The Making Of A Gigolo (15) - Agatha Roberts - Cover

The Making Of A Gigolo (15) - Agatha Roberts

Copyright© 2008 by Lubrican

Chapter 1

Erotica Sex Story: Chapter 1 - Agatha Roberts, set out to unmask Bobby Dalton as the pervert she and others were sure he was. The Dalton Bed and Breakfast was already changing the lives of Mirriam Dalton and her infamous son, and would now become the scene of crisis. Are Bobby's days as a purveyor of physical delight to dozens of women over? In this, the last full book in the series, we find out how Bobby feels about all this.

Caution: This Erotica Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa   Consensual   Romantic   Reluctant   Heterosexual   Incest   Oral Sex   Masturbation   Petting   Lactation   Pregnancy   Slow  

1976 - July

The fireworks were over and people were streaming to their cars or walking home. The lights on the bandstand had gone out, though there were still strings of other lights still on, here and there. Most of the cleanup would take place the next day. There was no rain threatening, so no one felt like staying late to fold chairs or take down tables.

Bobby Dalton was in no hurry to get to his car. The twins had come with their mother and left the same way. He’d been doing a last minute emergency repair on a faucet after the washer in it had disintegrated and it wouldn’t stop running, and he’d come to the celebration straight from that, in his car. He was walking slowly through the semi-dark when he saw the woman he’d been thinking about earlier in the evening.

Agatha Roberts was also in no hurry to start the walk home. She had picked up her chair and moved it out from under the trees so she could watch the fireworks. She’d always loved fireworks. They were like castles in the sky when she was a little girl, and had fired her imagination back then. They still did. They were so bright and cheerful and beautiful. And so temporary. She always felt a little let down when they ended. While she didn’t think about it consciously, the fireworks were a metaphor of the dreams she’d had as a teenager. There had been a few bright moments in her life, like bursting sprays of electric color, but they had faded, leaving only drifting smoke on the wind. She sat now, alone, still staring at the sky, her mind elsewhere.

She sat alone because none of her friends liked fireworks, at least not like she did. To some of the people she circulated with, the fireworks were only noisy, dangerous things that had to be endured. Some of them wanted the city council to pass an ordinance banning fireworks inside the city limits. Agatha was secretly horrified by that idea. Shooting off fireworks with her brothers had been a highlight of each of her years, growing up. But her friends sat at the tables and clucked about how, while it was pretty, as the bursts of color filled the skies, it was also a waste of good money. Even though it wasn’t their money being wasted. Had someone pointed that out, another discussion would have started about the Chumleys and how they had more money than they needed to begin with.

And so, she always picked up her chair and moved to where she could enjoy the sights without having to listen to what would otherwise ruin the show. On this particular night, she had settled in beside a blanket, upon which a man and his wife sat, with their three children. The children had danced and shouted, awed by the huge balls of light in the sky, exclaiming that this one was the best, then saying the same thing again when the next burst took place. Husband and wife simply sat, staring upwards, holding hands.

She had enjoyed the antics of the children and envied the quiet closeness of their parents. Children had been one of her bright and colorful dreams as a teenager. The first two or three years of her marriage to Harry had turned those dreams not just to smoke, but to ashes, as well. There had been no children. She didn’t know why, but it didn’t matter. Then Harry died and she was alone. Her friends expected her to act suitably and decorously, as befitted a proper widow. Her friends had made clear how sorry they were that there could be no man in her future ... that she’d had the only man she was destined to have. She didn’t understand why that was, but they made it clear. To be honest, after Harry, she wasn’t all that interested in finding another man anyway. Marriage, and living with a man, had been somewhat of a disappointment to Agatha.

“Good evening.” The deep voice startled her out of her reverie and she looked over to see who had spoken in the dark. She tensed instantly.

“Nice night,” said Bobby, when she didn’t respond to his greeting.

“Yes,” she said tightly. She looked around. What if someone saw him talking to her?!

“Would you mind if I asked you a question?” His voice was soft, in the dark.

She could see people over by the lighted areas, but they were all moving somewhere. Her friends would have wasted no time leaving the park to go home. It wasn’t seemly to stay up late. Early to bed and early to rise was their credo. They wanted to be healthy, wealthy and thought of themselves already as wise.

“It’s a free country,” she replied. She felt almost proud. She’d heard a young person use that comment at the grocery store and had been secretly waiting to try using it herself. It sounded so modern.

Someone else had left a chair a few feet away, and he got it and sat it in front of her. He sat down and leaned back. She could barely see his face in the dark.

“You don’t like me,” he said, his voice almost casual.

She frowned. Why would he say that? She’d taken such pains to make herself look alluring to such as him. She’d controlled her disgust for him while he was at her house! He went on, in the dark.

“And yet, you had me come over ... several times in fact ... to do things I could have done all at once. Why do I get the feeling that you wanted me at your house ... but not because I repair things?”

She was astonished at how he’d seen through her ruse. She was also very nervous. Her plan depended on him being ignorant of any danger until the trap was sprung.

“That’s nonsense,” she said, trying to control her voice.

“I saw you watching me, while I was dancing with Jill,” he said. “It looked like maybe you wanted to dance too ... but then you turned and hurried away.”

“More nonsense,” she muttered. She started to say “I’d never dance with you,” but managed to bite that off. Insulting him now wouldn’t help her cause. “I don’t dance,” she said instead.

“I see,” he said.

He was quiet for a while, and she didn’t know what to do. Why didn’t he just get up and leave?

“That’s too bad,” he said, finally. “I’ve seen you walk. You’re very graceful. You walk like someone who would enjoy dancing.”

Agatha was thunderstruck. He’d paid her a compliment! Her mind fluttered. She had loved dancing, when she was in school. She’d had to love it secretly, because her parents didn’t approve of dancing. They hadn’t approved of lots of things she was interested in back then. All of her dancing had been done privately. She’d watched the other kids, remembered their actions, and practiced them alone in her room, with the music in her mind.

“I guess your friends might think that was odd,” he said, interrupting her train of thought. “If you danced with me, I mean.” He was quiet again for a few seconds. “They don’t like me either,” he added.

He sounded like he was pulling away ... almost like he was saying goodbye, somehow, and she felt panic rising in her. She needed him to be interested in her. Her plan on exposing him required it.

“My friends don’t make my decisions for me,” she almost blurted. She knew that was an outright lie, but how could he know that?

“You must be a very strong woman,” he said.

Agatha’s mind buzzed. Now why had he said that? She wasn’t strong. She was terrified right this instant, in fact.

“Could I ask you another question?” he asked.

She’d been able to dodge his first one. He’d paid her several compliments since then. Maybe her plan was working better than she thought. She felt helpless. If it was working, though, she had no idea why it was working.

“All right,” she said.

“You and your friends don’t like my friends,” he said. “Could you explain why that is?”

Agatha felt honest surprise. Surely he knew. It was obvious. Maybe he was just stupid.

“What on Earth makes you think we don’t like you?” she asked, avoiding the question again.

“I’m not stupid, Agatha,” he said softly.

It was the first time he’d used her first name. It was also like he could read her mind, because she had been thinking he must be stupid.

“We simply appreciate high moral standards,” she said, flustered enough to say it without thinking first.

“And you think our standards are low,” he said.

“Women who have children out of wedlock have low moral fiber,” she said, automatically.

“My mother and father were married when I was born,” said Bobby. “So why do you dislike me?”

He kept getting back to that! She wished that she’d just gotten up and walked away. But her plan prevented that. And the way he was talking made it clear that her plan was in trouble anyway.

“I don’t dislike you,” she said, trying to make it sound genuine. “In fact I admit that I called you to my house because I was a little curious about you.”

There, that ought to repair the damage. She was uncomfortable being that forward, but it had to be done.

“You seemed afraid of me,” he pressed.

“You’re just the first man who’s been in the house since Harry...” she didn’t finish.

“I see,” he said. “I don’t want to be a pest about this, but could I ask another question?”

“Go ahead.” At least he wasn’t just walking away, like Harry had seemed to do so often.

“Why did you marry Harry?”

Her mouth dropped open. What in the world did he mean? She was so flustered that she just spoke her mind.

“Why does anyone get married? To make a family. To have security. To raise children.”

“Didn’t you love him?” asked Bobby.

This was insane! She was getting more and more unsettled by this conversation.

“Of course I loved him!” she said weakly.

“Well, you didn’t say that ... and I just wondered.”

He didn’t sound like he was being sarcastic. She wished she could see his face better, to see if he was smirking or not. He went on before she could think of any response.

“And I was just thinking that some of the people you and your friends don’t like are just like what you said. They wanted to make a family, and raise children. That’s what they’re doing, in fact.”

“But they’re not married!” she blurted.

“That’s true,” said Bobby. “But they made a family just the same. How come you and Harry never had any kids?”

He was so impertinent!

“I don’t know,” she said.

“Did you try?” he asked.

“Young man!“ she barked, unable to keep her emotions in check any longer. “That is not a proper question to ask a lady!”

“Sorry,” he said, not sounding sorry at all. “It’s just that you said you married him to make a family and then you didn’t do that, and I guess I was just curious ... that’s all.”

“Why do you even care?” she said, her voice loud in the darkness.

“I’m just trying to figure out what you want from me,” he said.

That didn’t make any sense to Agatha at all. No matter how she thought about it, it made no sense.

“I don’t want anything from you,” she said.

“And yet ... you called me to your house ... not once, but three times.”

“I told you,” she insisted. “I was just curious about you.”

“And yet, when I’m curious about you in return, you take offense,” he pointed out.

She had no idea what to say. How did he talk her in circles that way?

“Can we start over?” he asked.

“What?”

“You’re interested in me and I’m interested in you. Can we just start over and see if we can figure this out?”

“Start over?” She couldn’t make any sense of that either.

“Yes. Hi. I’m Bobby and I’m interested in you. Would you like to spend a little time with me and get to know each other?”

She was dumfounded.

“Well ... um...” She had no idea what to say.

“It’s really very easy,” he said softly. “You either do or you don’t.”

She thought furiously. He was asking her for a ... date ... wasn’t he? Could it be that simple? Were her elaborate plans for nothing ... or were they working? She took a breath, and then it hit her: He was interested in her!

“I ... I ... oh my!” she gasped. Her stomach felt like she’d eaten something that didn’t agree with her.

“Why don’t we start by you telling me a little about yourself?” he prodded.


Agatha opened her front door and stepped into the dark house. She felt better immediately, just because things smelled right ... felt right. She closed the door and turned on the light. Her eyes squinted immediately. She’d been in the dark for what seemed like hours and the light seemed blindingly bright.

She almost ran to the bathroom, hoisting her dress as she ran. Thank goodness she’d left off her pantyhose because of the heat. It had felt almost lewd sitting in the park with naked legs, but she was glad, now. She sat heavily, and just in time, as her complaining bladder was finally able to relax.

She looked at her watch. It was after midnight! She’d stayed up hours past her bedtime! What if people had seen her hurrying home so late? It occurred to her that no one could have seen her. They’d all been decently in bed for hours. She flushed and headed for the bedroom by habit.

As she got out of her clothes she realized she wasn’t sleepy. Not at all. They had been talking for hours. She couldn’t believe it. It felt like only half an hour had gone by.

She realized that couldn’t be, though. She hadn’t been able to say anything, almost, for at least that long. She wasn’t sure why she’d stayed at all, except that she kept trying to make her plan work. She now realized almost everything she’d done had gone against her plan, not helped it.

There in the dark, he’d wheedled things out of her, little by little, asking her questions ... hundreds of questions! As the time had somehow slipped by, she’d found out they went to school with some of the same people. He was only three years younger than she was, and had been a freshman when she was a senior.

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