Chapter 15

Rosa's appearance in my bed during the night before turned out to be a goodbye fuck, at least for a time. Wednesday evening, Rosa joined her sister angels Chanda and Alexandra in being absent for the tale, and it left a more conspicuous vacancy. "Don't worry," Nick told Helena, "I'm having our distant angels add to my power when they can." This communication could have been given silently and probably was, so his verbalizing of it was probably for my benefit to lessen my concern for my lover in having to overtax her abilities. "Where were we?" he asked as usual.

"So I take it that Rosa and her entourage had no problem returning to San Francisco," I asked.

"Rosa says Simon's minions boarded the westbound train at Kansas City, but her role as governess to Belle and Belle's role as a spoiled rich teenager with an Indian nurse and the nurse's daughter also accompanying them had her hiding in plain sight. Of course, altering her appearance to an old spinster aided the subterfuge.

"Raul joined us in our travels to Chicago," Nick continued, presumably taking control of the narrative from Rosa's distant mental input, "and ended up partnering there with Sven not only in enjoying the O'Farrell twins but in establishing a rather sexy nightclub with the twins as featured attractions. Renaldo remained in St Louis for awhile, marrying Sarah before they headed south to Texas, Renaldo becoming a cowboy and Sarah a school marm.

"I stayed in St Paul for a couple of months ostensibly to assure the Chicago businessman I represented that the new Savings and Loan used his funds wisely in beginning to lend money as well as the building of their permanent location, attractive in its downtown location and in its solid structure reflecting a vault like security for future clients' peace of mind, but mostly to give my young lover time to mull over her departure from friends and family and to communicate with her teacher in New York about becoming her tutor and the teacher to take care of resigning her position and preparing for a future of constant travel.

"Soon after our arrival in St Paul, I stood in Esther's father's place in giving his daughter to her husband, Jacob in marriage. It would have been too difficult for her father to give up the time from his haberdashery to attend, especially since business had become better than ever with his restored confidence and Louisa's attractive presence. Esther's pregnancy necessitated the hurried wedding, and Jacob's many family and friends filled the small synagogue. The number of attractive young women in attendance, even with their envious, dagger-like glances, amused Esther. 'He could have quite a harem here, ' Esther whispered to her maid of honor, Greta, who responded with 'Maybe one at a time, ' and they giggled.

"Marriage became a leitmotif, because when I finally returned to Claire in St Louis with Esther and Jacob accompanying me, we attended the weddings of Esther's father with Louisa and of Renaldo to Sarah and of the oldest Jackson daughter Francine to her longtime boyfriend John. None too soon for the last of these, because a rounding tummy on the petite young woman--though taller and bigger boned than Claire, such a change couldn't help being discernable to eyes such as John's parents vigilantly in search of sinfulness--revealed proof of her lack of virginity."

After being greeted by an endless hug and many kisses by Claire the evening before when Nick returns to her from St Paul, and Claire always by his side touching him constantly, reassuring herself of his presence, they awake together in her narrow bed to a tentative knock on the door. Both naked from a continuation of comparative biology frustrating only in Claire remaining a virgin, Claire shouts, "Just a minute." She giggles and he chuckles when they make a mad scramble to hide their nudity, hers beneath a long nightgown and his in britches and a robe. A quick but loving and aggressive kiss delays her announcement, "Come in."

A sad and nervous Francine enters the bedroom. "I need your advice," she says quietly, rubbing her nightgown covered tummy.

"Sit," says her younger though somehow more mature sister, patting the unmade and rather abused bed beside her. Francine doesn't seem to notice the disorder of the bed linens or the damp spots or the odor those spots exude when she sits.

"John's parents are going to know of my condition," Francine sniffles. "I mean it won't be nine months after we marry that I give birth to his child. Maybe seven at the most. And ... his mother wants to be present when I don the wedding dress for the ceremony. He thinks it's her chance to question me and end the wedding before it happens if she finds me unsuitable."

"Tell them," Claire grumbles. "Tell them their pure as a snowflake son has succumbed to your charms even if it took years to break him, and neither of you regret a second of your physical demonstration of the love and devotion you share with each other."

"They'll ... disown him," Francine argues sadly.

"Who cares?" Claire responds, lifting her sister's head so their eyes meet. "He's reached his maturity, in his twenties now, and you are over eighteen. Only he could reject you, and that won't happen. And you have no need for his parent's money nor does he. He is gainfully employed in our father's business, in fact groomed to take it over. The way I see it, the only thing threatened by speaking the truth is estrangement between John and his family. And if their religious and moral nonsense creates that rift, it's their loss and not yours or John's. If they reject their son's love because your passion for each other overcame societal dogma, it shows how unsubstantial that love is. Imagine Mom turning her back on us for any reason. We could be mad as hatters, complete sluts or uppity spoiled bitches and..."

"She'd love us just as much," Francine realizes with a heartbreaking smile, embracing her sister awkwardly yet warmly. "I love you," she whispers.

"I love you too," Claire whispers back.

Francine sniffles. "I am going to miss you."

Claire ends the embrace keeping the intimate contact by holding her sister's hand and brushing back the hair that has stuck to her sister's teary face. "I promised to write Mom about my adventures. I will write you as well."

"I'd like that," Francine smiles.

"Perhaps a little less explicit," Claire adds, to which the sisters giggle and Nick chuckles.

At the wedding, Nick acts as surrogate father for John while Claire acts as maiden of honor. Neither of John's parents attends, but his oldest and youngest sisters manage to represent his family, the oldest with her minister husband and the youngest showing earlier signs of rebellion than her oldest brother had shown.

At the reception, John shakes his sister's husband's hand vigorously. "I didn't expect you," he tells the Presbyterian minister.

"Grace wished to attend," shrugs the plain and older man, ten years older than John's sister, dark haired and medium sized both in height and build with intelligent and compassionate eyes behind spectacles. "I thought it best she be chaperoned."

John's joy lessens considerably. His wife's hand tightens in its grasp of his. "I'm sorry if..."

The minister smiles. "Nothing to be sorry about, John. Grace reminded me of Christ's most important lesson, that of forgiveness. And yet ... seeing you two on the altar being blessed in your union and the love for each other practically glowing there, I found myself ashamed to be so condescending." He smiles lovingly at his lovely wife beside him smiling lovingly back and kisses her forehead. "I felt humbled by your love and felt blessed by my own and I learned a profound lesson from it. No, my dear brother-in-law, you need not apologize. After all, God Himself proclaimed that it is the duty of mankind to be fruitful and multiply." The women blush and the men chuckle and embrace.

For a wedding present, Mr. Jackson gives his new son-in-law two weeks off and enough cash for a comfortable honeymoon. The newlyweds decide that a visit to New York City would fulfill a romantic vacation. Neither Nick nor Claire objects to their company, and in fact Claire suggests it.

Minions meet the foursome at the train station in Manhattan and shuttle them to their opulent hotel where they share a two bedroom suite. Claire makes sure the newlyweds lose any shyness about making love so near to her by gasping and moaning as loud as possible while pleasured orally by Nick. When she returns the favor, the sounds next door of moans and a rhythmically creaking bed causes a wink as she stares into the eyes of her lover. She loves to watch Nick's expressions when she brings him to completion, always improving on her skills because of it, continually advancing on the original instructions Nick had provided her in becoming a great cocksucker. Nick certainly approves of her improvements, filling her mouth with his potent elixir within minutes. The potency returns his mouth to her cunt to bring her more climaxes while she attends to his cock in a sixty-nine position. However after the first climax, she moves her cunt from his mouth.

"Nick," she says. "Listen."

"I don't hear anything," Nick replies.

"It's too soon. How long will we make love when you finally remove my hymen?"

"As long as you can stand it," he tells her.

"Hours then," she tells him and they chuckle.

"I see what you're getting at," says Nick. "Perhaps the travel exhausted them. Or they're still shy about us being so near."

"When I'm lost in bliss, I don't care who knows."

"But that's you, my inexhaustible minx." He returns to his feast of her sensitive parts in illustration, for which her moans provide thanks.

"You ... should ... coach ... them," she moans. "Fuck!" she trembles with another cum.

"And I suppose you will be there when I teach them how to make love," Nick inquires of his lusty companion.

"More biology lessons, Professor," she moans, writhing from his continued attention on her seemingly endlessly needy pussy. The vibrations of his chuckle lift her closer to another peak. He slows his attention, keeping her at a high plateau without providing the final climax. She squirms like a piglet attempting escape from human embrace, except she attempts the opposite, his trapping of her most sensitive bit of flesh and nerves between his lips. His hands grip her tighter to sustain his tease, the squeeze of her taut yet malleable little buttocks only increasing her pleasure though not quite enough.

"Fuck me Nick," she moans. It becomes a mantra. "I need your cock ... hard inside me!" she adds. Her squirms become trembles, and he knows she's ready for the final explosion. He sucks her pin and licks it, his finger sawing at the textured flesh just behind her pubic bone. The greatest orgasm of her life seizes her and silences her. Her body convulses and her libidinous fluids shoot out covering his chin. His fingers press at her clit and his mouth opens to receive the last of her spray, enjoying the flavor of his success and her bliss.

With her orgasmic convulsions comes a tight squeeze of his cock by her hand and an unconscious rub that, with the utter thrill he gets from her ecstasy, brings him close to his own completion. He sits up still straddling her head with his thighs and gazes down on her blushing, beautiful, blissed out face, her eyes closed in unconsciousness, her lips lifted subtly at the edges in a profoundly satisfied smile, and he vigorously rubs his glans inches above that face until he pumps out semen onto her steadily rising and falling chest.

Relaxing on his side, he watches her sleep, his hand rubbing his spend into the skin of her abdomen and chest and breasts as if it were skin crème. Her youth, her cuteness, her vulnerability and her innocence stirs him like no woman has stirred him before.

"I love you," he murmurs despite her inability to hear him. His mind flashes through centuries of lovers and he finds no equivalence. "This is different," he realizes, continuing to speak his thoughts out loud albeit quietly. "I'm settling down to rest. Still wandering, still things to be completed, but with you, it's like settling down, reaching the end of my long seemingly endless and mostly lonely journey, coming home to rest at last, in your loving embrace, because there wherever we wander is my home."

Kissing her forehead, he stands and leaves the bedroom, returning a few minutes later to pick up his companion as gently as possible so as not to awake her and bringing her into the bathroom steamy with hot water, the miracle of modern plumbing. He sits with her on his lap on the commode and gently wakes her, making sure she sees his face first thing so as not to startle her by the change in location. She smiles lovingly at him. He takes her petite hand in his and presses it at her bosom. "I'm afraid you're release thrilled me so much I had to have my own," he explains. "I made you sticky when I shot on your chest."

"You can cum on me anytime," she smiles sweetly pulling his head down to bring their lips into contact.

"You're not startled that I moved you from the bedroom to here?" he asks after the kiss ends, his cheek resting against hers.

"It's like I floated here," she tells him. "I floated because my heart and soul felt so happy it soared. They felt happy because I dreamed you whispered your love for me and that you wanted me to end your loneliness."

"That wasn't a dream, my love."

They kiss again, and as they kiss, Nick carries her into the bath and maneuvers her legs to surround his torso and holds her butt with one hand while his other hand steadies their descent into the hot water, eventually having to plop down the last few inches and causing water to splash over the sides of the tub. They giggle within the kiss. He blindly reaches and finds the sponge and begins scrubbing her back.

At last the kiss ends. They keep their faces close. She smiles broadly and he smiles back. "What?' he asks.

Her smile becomes mischievous as she backs away until her cunt lips contact his placid penis. "I have him where I want him now," she says, rubbing at the contact.

Nick chuckles. "Not tonight, my love," he tells her.

Of course she pouts and increases the rub. She looks perplexed. Her hand examines his penis and finds it uncommonly flaccid. "Did I kill it?" she asks cutely, still pouting.

Nick laughs. "I'm fighting temptation, my love."

"Why?"

"It's late and I want a start fresh when I succumb to your wicked desires."

A contemplative look forms on her pretty face. In silence he finishes washing her back and begins working on her front. She hums with pleasure when he works on her breasts, rubbing her nipples only in passing.

"Stand up, Claire," he requests, and kisses her abdomen when she obeys. He cleans her legs, working towards the apex.

"Am I wicked?" she finally asks.

"I said it in jest, Claire. I am the wicked one here. I'm the old man seducing the innocent maiden."

"But I seduced you."

"And I think I've had enough experience with charming young women to know how to resist them. Like I told you before I prefer to let the flowers become fully in bloom before pollinating them."

"And yet here I am," she tells him, her fingers sliding across the gap between vaginal petals and lifting his fingers to do the same, "ready to be pollinated. There must have been power in my seduction; a wicked power. Before I met you, I dreamed of ravishment. My imagination filled with hard cocks. Every night I masturbated to these imaginings and even some mornings. I had a wicked need for it. And all of that need focused on you. Sure I borrowed cute boys and handsome men to put faces on bodies that held those ravishing cocks. But the real males that I used for my fantasies never held my interest. Maybe a flash of heat, but it soon abated because to be intimate with them meant having to deal with them in their entirety and that ... cooled me off. Mmm," she moans when Nick cleans between her buttocks and continues to her genitals.

Handing her the sponge, she begins cleaning his chest slowly, a dreamy expression on her face as she continues her monologue. "You know what was absent? I had my suspicions, especially witnessing how intimate Mom is with Dad and Hester is with Charlie and even Francine is with John even if they hadn't consummated their love. Last summer I experimented with a boy a year older than me, a brother of a girlfriend. He had been a featured face in my fantasies. A nice boy really and fairly bright. I suppose I could have jumped his bones or his bone I guess, like I did in my fantasies. I'm sure he wouldn't have minded. I did notice his interest when his britches tended to point at me. But a good girl doesn't do that and he'd probably become petrified with fright anyway. So we spent a week chatting and the next week kissing and maybe a couple weeks later touching. So yes, Nick, I have had that courtship experience. And I initiated everything, including rubbing him until he came in his britches. It was a mutual rub, but I didn't cum. Another week of that, and I finally had his naked penis out, rather a small one compared to yours, but I thought it was big enough at the time. And this time I played with it long enough for me to get mine before he got his, although I admit while my one hand teased his cock, the other one did a lot of the work for him to get me off. There it was, in the flesh, the tool for ravishment. And I realized like an epiphany that I didn't want it inside me. Sure it thrilled me to see it erupt, and I had the rush of climax swaying my mind, but despite that, the idea of having this kid gasping between my thighs shoving in and out after brutally puncturing my hymen, both of us naked and sweaty and completely exposed to each other ended my interest in him like a burst bubble."

Despite the distraction of the story, Claire completes the cleaning of her lover, saving the best for last. After stroking his penis with sponge, she tosses it aside and strokes it with both hands, her mouth leaning in to suck his glans and her tongue swirls around it. It has become hard again of course. Removing her mouth, she stares at it as she continues, "The next day I ended our little romance, telling him the reason for it. I didn't love him. Because of that, I didn't want any more intimacy with him. He didn't take it well, claiming to love me. His whining definitely convinced me I had made the right decision. I even heard him call me a cunt to my back when I left him in the park. Yeah, right, he loved me. And then you came into my life, and all those fantasy faces and cocks coalesced into you, and more than that, everything else about you made me feverish to bring you into my bed and ravish you. That's right Nick, you wouldn't be ravishing me. I'd be the ravisher. It's like you glowed like a knight in shiny armor. The way you attacked my father for trying to thrust Francine into your bed left my cunt dripping. I thought I'd die if you refused me."

She pouts and mewls when he delicately removes her hands from his cock. He sits back in the cooling bath water and turns her around and sets her butt in his lap. "Mmm," she hums when she slides her pussy lips back and forth on his cock.

Wrapping his arms across her torso, he pulls her against his torso and whispers "Ssshh. Calm down, my love." Her motion ends and she sighs when she feels his penis soften.

"You said you'd need a night of lovemaking for ending my virginity," she realizes. Her calm even surprises her. "Does that mean soon?"

"Yes my love. After your menses. I don't want you pregnant yet."

"It's been at least three weeks since I last bled," she informs him.

"You're young enough to have uneven periods. I don't want to risk it. And I do want to cum inside you."

"Me too," she nods. "I thought I had to wait for months, so another week or so won't kill me. Have you succumbed to my wickedness?"

"If you choose to think of it that way, my little succubus, but I prefer to think of it as your charm."

"Like 'oh what a cute and charming little girl?'"

"Maybe at first," Nick admits. "Not anymore. It's the charm of wit and elegance only found in a woman of maturity and intelligence and confidence."

"Thanks," she sighs and pulls his head down and twists her head up for a kiss.

"The fact that you're awesomely cute only adds to my adoration of you."

"Whatever it takes, my love," she grins.

He chuckles. "You are a wicked, wicked girl."

Nick might reconsider his opinion of his companion being remarkably mature for a sixteen year old (her birthday occurring a month before) except the pale, delicate looking, raven haired, 25 year old teacher reacts similarly when Claire sneaks up to her and taps her shoulder. Both women scream and when Miss Matilda Bouvier stands, they bounce together in a hug. And this happening in the oppressive silence of the New York City Library, it causes quite a stir and not a few "shushes." The hug itself looks odd what with Tillie nearly a foot taller than Claire putting Claire's mouth in the vicinity of Tillie's rather vigorously bouncing breasts, visible even behind Tillie's mannish white button down shirt.

"Do we need to collect your things?" Nick asks her.

"What's wrong with your hand?" Claire asks at the same time, noticing her right hand wrapped in a linen bandage.

"My brother-in-law masher came to rape me while my sister slept a couple nights ago and I slugged him," Tillie tells them proudly.

"You should have aimed lower," Claire growls.

"Follow me," Tillie whispers within a giggle and guides them behind the library desk, the gray haired male librarian nodding in permission, a sad but loving look on his face. Once in the back room, she explains, "Oh I did, with my knee, but when he bent over with his usual smug face looking sour and furious, I couldn't help slugging it. He must have a glass jaw because it was a knockout punch, or at least it put him on his back whereupon I jumped on top and proceeded to strangle him. I don't know what my sister thought when she awoke to see me straddling her husband, me in my nightgown and him in pajama bottoms, maybe some kinky sex or something, but she threw me out. At least she let me pack. I stashed my bags--my entire life in two carpetbags--here at the library. Wait here a moment."

When Tillie disappears through a door, Nick comments to Claire, "I like her."

"I knew you would," Claire responds, shaking her head. "She's full of surprises, but slugging a masher ... She's one of the most gentle and shy creatures I ever met." Claire giggles, "Except when she's not."

Having one hand usable, it takes Tillie two brief trips to haul two bags. She struggles carrying the second one. "Books," she explains.

"I could have grabbed that for you," Nick tells her.

"That's Walt's sacre sanctorum," Tillie replies. "Only because our head librarian is sweet on me was I allowed in. And because of his rather exhaustive work cataloguing the illicit, the explicit and the perverse, it also serves as the most restrictive collection in the library."

The subject under discussion enters the room and immediately hugs Tillie. He is inches shorter than her nearly six feet height. He glances at her friends. "It's okay, Walt," she says, and the gray haired man kisses Tillie.

"I'm going to miss you so much, Miss Bouvier," he speaks low and hesitantly, holding back sobs.

"You'll just have to use your imagination and your many resources," she retorts.

"You know it's not just that," he insists.

"I know," and they kiss again. When it ends she peals herself from his arms and sighs, "Better go."

He can only nod.

Nick carries both bags without any trouble as they exit the backroom, the spinster looking woman not much older than Tillie who has replaced her boss at the main counter looks sourly at her. She ignores the look and leads her student and her male companion through the front of the library and outside and follows them into the hansom cab awaiting them.

As soon as the hansom cab heads to the hotel, Claire asks Tillie excitedly, "What was that about?"

"You really want to know?"

"I do. And I wrote you that you can say anything in front of Nick without censure."

Tillie blushes. "Poor Walt is a very sensitive and private person, but has an enormous amount of repressed desire. His stature as head librarian for the City of New York prevents acting on it, especially with his hobby of studying erotica. He must seem to be only studying it, you see, with a priggish attitude as if it could never affect him. I have known him for years, and from the beginning I caught him staring at me. Unlike with my boorish brother-in-law, it did not bother me. When I began dressing more stag, at least from the waist up, a look I prefer but am not allowed at boarding school, his interest seemed to amplify. Finally he got up the courage to allow me into his sanctuary. I assisted him, taking notes on various erotic books and studies on perversion. Sometimes around lunch he would appear antsy, and when I returned after eating my lunch outdoors he appeared much calmer. I found out why when I came back for my umbrella and caught him ... masturbating. Everything fell into place. I told him to continue and watched fascinated when he ejaculated into a handkerchief which he quickly drowned in a bowl of rose water. The odor still hung in the air and I recognized it. I also noticed he took inspiration not from me but from drawings of an ancient Greek vase illustrating mano et mano sex. With a sigh, he asked me 'Do you not wish you lived in different times?' I told him I too wished I lived in Ancient Greece on the Island of Lesbos with Sappho seducing me with her latest verse." Tillie pauses, her lower lip caught between her teeth, looking searchingly into her favorite student's eyes. "Do you still wish me as your tutor?" she asks Claire.

"I know of your predilections, Tillie, as does Nick."

"Am I that transparent?"

Claire chuckles. "I'm afraid so."

"Claire worried for your position," Nick explains. "Along with her love of you and the possibilities your fond stares at her provoked in her substantial imagination, that promoted our hiring you."

"Go on with your story, please," Claire requests her blushing tutor.

"We both became much bolder after that," Tillie continues. "He wasn't interested in touching me when I exposed myself to him as we both frigged ourselves to completion several times since my discovery of his lunch habit, but I wanted to explore the extraordinary flesh that expanded several times its normal size and became like the nozzle of a fire hose shooting his milky substance into his handkerchief. He let me rub him and lick him and suck him. I didn't like the taste, but I liked to watch the spurts, so I bared my chest and let him ejaculate onto it. He seemed to have a fascination for my bared breasts which surprised me. He claimed it was an aesthetic fascination. I asked if it was similar to his fascination with my body and face that I had noticed ever since I knew him. After apologizing to me profusely, which I waved off and told him I considered it highly complimentary, he claimed his obsession had to do with bone structure and the way I moved. I found a clinical study of hermaphrodism which had a suspiciously tattered look to it and pages that seemed less flexible as if sized like a canvas. Do you know what I mean about hermaphrodites?"

"Hermes and Aphrodite," Claire guesses correctly, "the quintessential male and female gods in Greek myths. A combination of the two in one human?"

"She's brilliant, isn't she?" Tillie smiles at Nick.

"Yes she is," Nick smiles back and kisses Claire's broad forehead.

"There was a rather secret club in Greenwich Village not far from my sister's apartment that caters to ... my interests. It is lorded over by a rather rich and proud fellow and his equally proud wife, both beards for each other's preferences. Inclusion in the club requires a sort of membership rite which consists of bringing either the lord or the lady to climax. I have to admit it's the one time I wished I preferred the male gender because the lord is a rather handsome gentleman, tall and lean, while the lady is the opposite, short and fat and jowly and sweaty and..." Tillie shivers. "They found me wearing shirt and tie in a nearby park studying the passing ladies as I often did on Sundays, a frustrating exercise as I was too shy to approach any woman who looked back at me with similar interests and if they dared to sit beside me I became a stuttering mess which must have made them uncomfortable. The few exceptions unfortunately occurred when the lady looked young enough to be one of my students. If they were actually that young, we had no place for a private assignation because they lived at home. I probably would have lost courage anyway, feeling ashamed and all. But three of these young ladies were older than they looked, students in summer school at the university which adjoined the park, and they brought me to their dormitory rooms and we taught each other lesbian pleasures a little nervously because they had roommates who didn't share their sexual interests. Only one didn't expect her roommate until late in the evening and we enjoyed each other thoroughly both sexually and verbally. We almost got caught though. When the key entered the door we had finished ravishing each other and had dressed and shared supper in the room, though my shirt remained open to my belly button and her legs had been open under her dress with nothing preventing my view of her sex and her chemise had a transparency that did little interference with my view of her nipples. It was a most delightfully teasing supper. I buttoned a couple more buttons and she of course closed her legs and smoothed down her skirt by the time the roommate entered. We had hoped to air out the small room, and only the spicy Chinese dishes hid the evidence of our previous debauchery, but not quite enough because the roommate, a rather haughty blonde looking suspiciously at my new redheaded lover, sniffed the air. I made a hasty exit, letting the sadness of losing a promising lover come out only after entering the street. I saw the redhead a couple weeks later in the park and asked if my presence had caused her any grief. With a giggle, she told me her roommate had shared her suspicions with her ambitious lawyer boyfriend, a young man from a rich family whose amorous reaction surprised her. Being a high class gold-digger sensitive enough to notice his wandering eye even in her presence, the blonde saw this as an opportunity to set the hook and after a dinner date the couple became a threesome."