Chapter 2

Bonnie surfaced two weeks after Mona moved in; one day, I opened the door to head off to go to work (this was before Mona learned my CAP score) and this long lean chick got up from where she was sitting on the floor opposite the door and said, "I can't make the rent."

Naturally, I said, "Huh?"

Bonnie clarified things for me, "Mona was my roommate; now that she's living here I can't make the rent. You're Pete, right?"

"Uh, yeah..." I wondered what was next -- a lawsuit?

"Mona says you're pretty nice," Bonnie added, looking me over. I returned the favor. She was a long, tall drink of water in one of those flower-child floor-length skirts and a halter top that, well, seemed undernourished in the cups. The hair was long and blonde -- but a shade dark enough that I didn't think it came from a bottle, especially given the reddish highlights. The face was, well, plain -- a little rabbity with buck teeth and freckles and not enough chin to keep it from being just slightly pouchy. She was about as different from Mona as you could get -- long and narrow everywhere Mona was round.

I continued my sparkling repartee by grunting, "Uh, thanks. MONA!!!"

Mona stuck her head out the door and said, "Oh, hi, Bonnie. Pete, I told you about Bonnie..."

"I remember." That didn't explain why she was here, though. "She says she can't make the rent or something. I, uh, need to go to work." Yeah, I was sprouting feathers, big time -- I did NOT want to get into whatever fight this pair was going to have! I hurried off, wondering if I was going to have to subsidize this Bonnie's rent in order to keep my chubby little main squeeze in my bed where she belonged. Worry was distracting; they could be tearing each other's hair out, the cops could get called, Bonnie might convince Mona to move out (THAT was a worry -- I was already thoroughly addicted), I might have to appear as a witness in Judge Judy's court, -- all kinds of possibilities occurred to me...

Everything but what actually happened.

When I got home -- a touch later than usual, as I'd stopped for a beer to fortify me before heading on home -- Mona met me at the door, dressed in my favorite manner -- which is to say buck naked -- rubbed my crotch and got right to her point, purring, "Pete? Could Bonnie move in with us?"

Caught flat-footed again, I blurted, "Why would you want to do that? Why would you want another woman around? Is she gonna pay?" I couldn't imagine a scenario wherein there was no reduction in my domestic tranquility.

"Sweetie, Bonnie and I go way back -- we've been together for years! THAT won't be a problem..." Mona assured me, while making sure the blood all rushed to my little head, leaving the big one at a disadvantage. She had my cock out, running her little fist up and down it with the confidence of someone thoroughly familiar with the tools of her trade.

"Where will she sleep?" I sputtered. I was NOT giving up my office in the second bedroom!

Mona dimpled. "Why, with us, silly!"

"Won't that cut into... ?"

"Oh, no! In fact, she'll help! I can barely keep up -- you're SUCH a stud..."

The first thought that occurred was 'Bullshit!' That was laying it on a bit thick, I thought. Later, I discovered that at any given moment, just about any woman can ride three guys into the ground -- but they tend to take longer to recover than we do, so the next night, while the guy is likely to be fully recharged, she's likely to be looking for the night off. I've discussed Mona's method of handling such things -- and it works, pretty well, three weeks out of the month -- but Mona was approaching that fourth week, when women generally don't generally want anyone playing in the mess. Apparently, that came up somewhere in Bonnie's arguments earlier in the day... "Baby," I blustered, "In my limited experience, women fight over guys..."

"That's when one of them is STEALING," Mona assured me. "We'll be SHARING!"

"And what does Bonnie think of this?" I asked.

"She's fine with it," Mona replied, the undercurrent being, 'of course... ' Before I could say anything about wanting to hear this assurance from Bonnie, Mona turned and yelled, "Bonnie!"

Before I could decide whether it was politic to wrestle my erection out of Mona's grasp, Bonnie came around the corner wearing a baby-doll nightie short enough on her to allow me to tell that the drapes matched the carpet. In fact, Bonnie's pubic hair -- such as there was of it -- was more or less straight, flowing in from the sides to a peak at the center that pointed at her clit. Her eyes found my cock and lit up, "Oh, wow! NICE one!" I got the impression that Bonnie had seen a few -- an impression that she proceeded to confirm by going smoothly to her knees and SWALLOWING ME WHOLE!

"HOLY SHIT!" I gasped. Somehow, Bonnie managed to run her tongue over my balls while her nose was in my pubes and the head of my dick was in her throat! A week before, I'd have blown a nut right there, but I was becoming somewhat seasoned; still, I lasted MAYBE ninety seconds while Bonnie took the tip of my dick from her lips to beyond her epiglottis probably thirty times ... When I grunted incoherently that I was about to blow, she collected it all in her mouth, then proceeded to play with it, straining it through her teeth and showing it on her tongue before snowballing half of it to Mona. Needless to say, my cock didn't go down...

Bonnie's nipples came up, though, tenting the nightie; she had some serious points, there -- and there was something odd about them ... I reached out gingerly -- rings! Bonnie had rings in her nipples!

"You like?" Bonnie grinned like a shark. The aggression level here was totally different than the flower-child persona of the morning. This chick seemed pretty certain of her capabilities ... I just nodded. "I do, too," she announced. "I like to have them twisted a little while I fuck. Are you up for that?" I nodded again and found myself being led to my bedroom by my boner.

Bonnie knew ALL about fucking; after stretching me out on my back, she tossed her nightie over her head, revealing some VERY interesting tattoos, and proceeded to ride me cowgirl-style until we were BOTH wasted. Once again, the difference was night and day; sex with Mona tended to be gentle and loving and romantic, but sex with Bonnie was fucking -- hard-edged, get your nut and enjoy it to the max, go to Hell fucking! I learned later that was the way they taught it at the school where Bonnie learned about sex; her brother hung out with bikers, and Bonnie got sucked in to a gang. She'd been a 'seat cover' for a couple of years before things just got too harsh and Bonnie went looking for something more gentle than the kind of rough bastards that liked to gang-bang a bitch until she was wall-eyed. Mona was the other end of the spectrum, soft and cuddly and considerate and most of all, needy -- but she didn't have a dick, and now, after sampling the far side for a couple of years, Bonnie was interested again, particularly if the owner of the dick involved could manage to approach the idea of being a little bit considerate.

I could do that.

Bonnie had some of the damnedest marks left over from her days as a biker bitch; a favorite was on her right butt cheek, where an arrow pointed at her asshole beside the notation, 'Oil weekly.' Dipping Bonnie's ass let you know she'd been 'oiled' DAILY at one point -- and that sphincter of hers remembered EVERY trick! I have to sheepishly admit that I got off on twisting those nipple rings; she would get this look on her face and say, "God! That hurts SOOOO good!"

So Bonnie moved in, too, and I got a bigger bed. The next week, we ran into what COULD have been a complication of that 'down week' issue -- you see, Bonnie and Mona had been living together for years, and as sometimes happens, their cycles matched. Bonnie, however, actually got hornier when she was bleeding -- she claimed it was the 'bitch in heat' effect -- so I learned to fuck it bloody. The texture was a little different; I won't go into details to keep from grossing anyone out.

A couple of days later, the girls were in the kitchen cleaning up after supper, gabbing. I was working at the dining room table -- don't ask why, since I have an office. I had papers scattered here and there, and my desk was already a mess, probably. Anyway, they were providing a background mumble until Mona, suddenly ten decibels louder, says, "Yes! I'm happy! I'm gonna be with Pete until he tells me to go away, then I'm gonna sit outside on the porch and cry for a couple of days and hope he changes his mind! What's wrong with that? I want to have his kids, but with those bugs or lizards or walking toadstools or whatever they are coming, it doesn't seem worth it..."

Thoroughly keyed in, I picked up Bonnie's quieter rejoinder -- one that proved that she was the deep thinker of the pair: "Whiskers, Pussy Cat, despite the fact that Pete says 'Huh?' a lot, he's pretty smart, except for common sense stuff. Did it ever occur to you that he might be smart enough to get picked up? What's his CAP score?"

"Jeez, I dunno..."

"You don't know? You tie up with a guy in a grocery store and you DON'T KNOW his CAP score? What DO you know about him?" Bonnie demanded.

"Everything I need to know!" Mona insisted. "He's sweet and he loves my ass and..."

"Yeah, and he's a soft touch and he's got a nice long cock -- Hell, I love him to death, too -- but what possessed you to just up and go home with a strange guy on the spur of the moment is beyond me!"

"You had to be there!" Mona declared stubbornly. "We just clicked!"

"And you don't know his CAP score..."

"No, Cricket, I don't. It would be rude to ask, anyway!" (I never heard either of these pet names before this particular conversation, but I discovered that they'd been using them for years... )

"Pete..." I jumped a foot, guiltily, and Bonnie smirked a bit before finishing the question, "what's your CAP score?"

"I don't care!" Mona declared staunchly, sticking her head around the door behind Bonnie.

"I know you don't, um, Pussy Cat..." I replied.

"See?" Bonnie insisted, "He's not stupid -- untutored, but not stupid! He didn't call you Whiskers..." Bonnie drew a finger across her upper lip and I got it -- Italian girls sometimes grow a little fur there. Personally, I think it's cute... "But you didn't answer the question, did you?" Her eyes turned calculating.

"It's okay, I love you anyway!" Mona assured me.

I turned to Bonnie. "What about you? Do you love me anyway?"

Bonnie gave me a crooked smile that reminded me just how worldly she was and said, "Sweetheart, you beat the fuck out of just about any guy I ever had sex with -- but if you don't have a five at least, then there is something about you that isn't right. I DO kinda hope it'll be a long time before I find it, but..." She would cover her ass -- it had been burned too many times.

"Would you go with me if I was picked up?" I asked.

Bonnie cocked her head. "Can I be head bitch?" I flicked a look at Mona and Bonnie handled the objection, "Whiskers can't be head bitch -- she's too soft and cuddly."

"She still might be the favorite," I argued. Mona preened.

Bonnie laughed and nodded. "True, but she wouldn't WANT to be head bitch -- too much responsibility."

"Stipulated," I agreed.

Bonnie turned to Mona. "Pack your bag, Pussy Cat! Did you hear that fancy word? Our Petey isn't any three and a half, Hon..." She cocked her head. "C'mon, Pete, quit screwing around..."

Sighing, I reached in my wallet, pulled out my card and handed it to Bonnie. Her eyes bugged. "Fuuuuuck me!" Then she locked eyes with me and added, "Any time!" making sure I realized she was serious. Turning to Mona, she declared, "Pussy Cat, we have a problem! We have to find two more girls that we can put up with so our lover man has a full house!"

Mona blinked. "What?"

Bonnie flipped the card upright so Mona could read it. "Our Petey doesn't get just two girls, Sweetie -- he gets four!"

"You can go?" Mona's eyes glowed -- then her face fell. "You'd take me, wouldn't you?" she asked hesitantly.

"In a heartbeat, if I can," I agreed.

Mona frowned. "Why couldn't you?"

"If they pick me up somewhere and you're not with me..."

"I don't want to lose you!" Mona declared, her face tragic. "I want to go everywhere you go, okay?"

I thought about it. "That might be hard..."

"No," she insisted, "I can do it. I'm sure I can!"

"I dunno. What about the Men's Room?" I challenged.

"I don't care. Please?" She turned those killer eyes on me.

"Don't you have to work?"

"Do I?"

"Don't you have bills?"

"I don't have rent, now..." She eyed me sidelong, realizing THAT could change. "I don't have a car payment."

"I bet you have insurance on that piece of shit," I pointed out.

"If I ride everywhere with you I don't NEED a car!"

"That's a point," I conceded. "Cell phone?"

"It's not a lot..." Mona started picking her fingers.

"Food? Beverages? Clothes? Make-up? Shoes?" I tossed out.

"PLEEEZE!" Mona begged.

'What about you?" I asked Bonnie.

Bonnie shook her head. "I can't be that dependent. What happens if you DON'T get picked up?" She eyed Mona. "I'll carry me so you can carry her."

I rubbed my jaw. "We'll try it."

"YIPPEEE!!!" I ended up on the floor; Mona has plenty of mass low to the ground to tackle me.

Since then, basically, Mona is never more than thirty feet from me -- ever. That started the morning after she discovered my CAP score. She called in to her work and quit her job as a secretary at an auto dealership and she went to work with me. I ended up putting an extra chair in my cube for her. The boss freaked until he discovered that he was getting almost twice as much work from the two of us, and he wasn't paying salary or benefits for Mona; that made it all right. If I wanted to screw Mona in the janitor's closet, it wasn't an inappropriate workplace romance -- she wasn't an employee. Nobody was gonna get sued. We had a hairy couple of days; I thought I was going to have to quit because HR kept threatening to have Mona escorted off the property, but I found a couple of articles on 'The New Workplace' where women committed to a high-CAP individual contributed to the company in exchange for the ability to be close to their 'sponsor' at all times on the Net and the hassle went away. Nowadays, I don't go to the Men's Room alone; Mona shakes the dew off my lily. It's just how it is. Does it bother me? NO! We go shopping. We go to the grocery store. We go to the beauty shop. If I get grumpy about going somewhere, we either DON'T go, or Mona makes sure I'm happy about it. Do I have to draw you a picture? Okay: She gets down on her knees ... At this point, there are two other guys in my department with the same deal -- and the girls are basically fighting off female employees to defend their territory, and I'm VERY highly thought of for blazing the trail! Some turkey in the legal department created a 'sexual harassment waiver'; I've got about two dozen signed ones in my desk drawer, with sticky notes attached from the female involved making sure I know all of her contact information -- usually hand-delivered to make sure I can attach a face -- and other body parts -- to the piece of paper.