PART TWO e – The Townhouse

  "What about you. You ready for bed?"

  "Yes. Please."

  "Okay. You still listening?"

  "Hanging on every word, dear."

  "Good. Go get me another snack microwaved. The other two ate mine. I want the same thing. We have some. Bring it back in here, and don't dilly dally. Move. I gave you an order, mister."

  I was speaking softly so no one would hear. He whispered in my ear.

  "Thank you for that."

  "You want some? Get a move on."

  I winked. He smiled and stuck his tongue out at me. I swatted his face, pyfully.

  "Watch your sass. I'll give you something to use that tongue on. Now go, would you?"

  He went and was back in not many more seconds than it took the microwave to run. He smiled, and put the pte in my p, and gave me some little kisses, holding my ankles.

  "Look up at me."

  He did.

  "I wanna ride my property, if you think that would be fun."

  He nodded.

  "I figured as much. Would you mind taking this pte up and waiting for me in our bedroom? I'll be up after I shut the lights and the TV and everything off."

  "I'm looking forward to it."

  "You better be. Get going."

  When I came up to the bedroom, I sat on the foot of the bed, and he came up to me. Without being asked, he started to undress me. Pampered. I had to only lift one foot, then the other. I stood up, and he took my jeans off, and I stepped out of them. He pointed at my panties, and I shook my head no and smiled.

  "Go sit. You like a show? You might as well get one from a girl that actually likes you."

  He sat in the desk chair he turned around, and I gave him a little imitation of the bending over, pantie and leg show she had been trying to pull off.

  "Now you can pull them down."

  I stepped out of them, when he had them slid down to my ankles. I lifted my arms, and he took my T shirt off for me. I went back to the bed, and sat down once again, at the foot of it. He came back, and held my ankles and I got little kisses. God, how I love that. I pulled him on top of me, then told him to put some music on. For privacy. He did. I directed the volume with up and down finger motions, then fshed the OK sign. He came back, and I pulled him on top of me again, before rolling on top of him, pinning him underneath me. I tucked my legs in, and gave him his ride. I extended it as long as possible, starting and stopping to prolong it.

  He asked if I wanted him to clean up his mess. I smiled, and shrugged. He went about it. I got what I was starting to call a mouth quickie. Then, I sat on his face, so he could actually clean me. He didn't compin. He never does. It never gets old. I whispered in his ear, that he was going to get a quick clean up too. I cleaned him up, until he brought me up to let me know there was no destination. I kissed him anyways.

  "Do me a favor?"

  "Anything."

  "Py some fetch for a little bit. I missed it."

  I sat on the foot of the bed and tossed my socks and panties all around and over, and he fetched with his mouth, crawling back. I either tossed them again, or got ankles held and my little kisses.

  "Think you can sleep now?"

  He nodded.

  "Lay down with me."

  He did.

  Laying close, we could talk in each others ears. Privately. I like to talk some, falling asleep together.

  "So. Was that better, than your run of the mill, once every six months thing that gave you the idea you liked this?"

  "Not even in the same league."

  "Hmm. Thank you."

  "You're welcome."

  "So. After one every six months…"

  "Twice? Then never again. Until you."

  "Right. But, it let you know there was something missing. That you wanted."

  "I… already was interested. Like you said, it pops into your head, whether you want it to or not. She, was just the first real offer of any kind, ever. I jumped at the chance, to try… what had popped into my head since I was young. That I couldn't talk about."

  "And then?"

  "And then what."

  "And then, once you got a taste, the idea came back. Worse. More often. Stronger. That was how it was for me. I gave myself a little taste? It wanted more."

  "Yeah. It wants fed. It waits, it wants to grow."

  "Became your fantasy, huh? I admit it became mine, after the first polite one happened."

  "Yeah. Same here. You know guys… take matters into their own hands, I'm sure."

  I smiled.

  "I've heard rumors. I know. You know girls do too, right?"

  "I've heard. As often as guys do?"

  "I think we're the same that way, boys and girls. What do you… think about. Or do you use… inspirational material."

  He smiled and tapped his temple on the side of his head gently with his index finger.

  "Oh. I don't need material. It comes from in here. You?"

  "Same. So tell me. What do you use for… ideas."

  "You first."

  "I asked first. We're also, in bed. I'm in charge in bed. So… do I need to beat it out of you? I have quite a collection of switches, you know. The music's on. You're not going to get something to cry for, but I can arrange a few love taps, if it gets you talking."

  "Do you think that would work?"

  "I know that will work. I have a simple method. You get one, until you decide to talk. You don't talk yet? You get another one. Pretty simple. Now I asked you twice. You need a gentle reminder, I can tell. Go, and get me one. A long one."

  "Which one."

  "Medium. I'm tired, I'm not going through this forever. I'm gonna make this short and sweet."

  He brought it back.

  "I, am going to turn the music up. You? Over the foot of the bed. I'm going to hold one hand. When you feel like talking, you… squeeze my hand to let me know."

  I turned the music up, and he was waiting for me. I held his hand, and backed off and really lit him up. He got a couple more, I was hauling off and letting him have it. I know his ass already hurt, it shouldn't take long. It didn't. I got my hand squeezed several times, after several of these good ones. I handed it to him, and pointed to put it away. The corner of the closet, with the others. He came back, and I took a picture of his boo boo butt. It was marked up, sure, but none of the wicked looking hard things. All surface marks, all burn and sting. Perfect. I shared the pic with him. These red lines were on their own, residing on the tops of his legs.

  "I asked a question. I want an answer. What do you think about. Any more stalling? You risk getting a trip to the basement. I'm tired, I'm in no mood to py games. I won't be gentle. Talk. I'm not asking again."

  I winked.

  "Could be anything. But, recurring themes work for you?"

  "Sure."

  "Girls that look like you. Birthday smacks type of thing…"

  He blushed bad.

  "…and, maybe, tied up once or twice? There, I said it."

  "Hmm. I must make you happy."

  "Very. Its hard to ask, the first time. When you… brought it right up? I thought I was gonna have a heart attack for a second there. Now, your turn."

  "I get to direct the action. Sometimes, I'm getting it good and quick. Or… I give the birthday smacks kind of thing. What do you see me suggest? What I like. Like I'm some kind of mystery? I'm not."

  "You said you were tired."

  "I am."

  "Bedtime?"

  "I would like."

  "So? Say something."

  I smiled.

  "I'm not in charge, outside of sex. Not really. Its not my thing, I told you that before. The average person on the street, yeah, there's a stereotype… and it just isn't me. Now, if I'm going to razz you about the dishes, the garbage? That's different. We pnned on it. But, even in pces where I actually am in charge, a little bit? No, you don't see me walking around, pointing at things, being bossy."

  "Oh. You're not a… the hell are they calling it this year anyways…"

  "Being bitchy?"

  "No. I don't watch TV like I did when I was young. But when I do? Most of the women on the shows, and in movies. They… you know. Smart girl reading gsses. Gray business suit, office clothes. She's walking around with a clipboard. Always stopping to… point, and issue orders. Has a little frown, and nods a lot. Says all right, everyone gather around. They just flock to listen. Then? She uses that… am I in trouble if I call it, the… newscaster dy voice?"

  I ughed, and I made it a point of him knowing I wanted him to ugh at it too, it was okay in my book.

  "Yeah. I compin about that stereotype too. They, whoever they are? Are really pushing that stereotype. That, was called the "girl-boss" for a while there. Still is, in certain circles. I'm sure they'll push it more, and… get a better name."

  "Yeah. Everything needs a name. It can't just happen. The magazines and talk show hosts, have to get the memo and advertise the new thing."

  "The, smart girl gsses? Yeah. Women buy them now. No prescription, not even regur reading gsses. They're… ft pieces of gss. They think it makes them look smart. The clothes you described? Gray businesswoman's pantsuit. It comes? Any shade of gray you want. You forgot, the hair simply must? Be pulled back in a bun. Clipboard? Yeah. You forgot the little briefcase. She has to take the clipboard, out of the briefcase. And? It's called an itinerary, not just a list on a piece of paper on the designer clipboard. You gotta call it the itinerary. The briefcase? I guess it's for holding the clipboard, I don't know. Shall I continue?"

  "Please. I never heard a girl talk like this before. Continue."

  I shrugged and smiled before going on.

  "The pointing? Everyone looking as she directs and is in charge of, simply everything around her, all day at work? Oh yeah. She adjusts the gsses, whether they slip or not. The little frown? You forgot the irritated shake of the head. And that newscaster voice? That oh so fake, gather round team, I'm issuing orders, and you just naturally hang on my every word? Yeah. Believe it or not, us girls have a css or two. On, tips and tricks for succeeding in the business environment. They push what you just described. The girls all do it. Its… all totally a made up thing."

  "Whats the point…"

  "Women are taught to pretend to act like this. So… they'll grow up to be little girl-bosses. The girls? Most of them aren't like that naturally. They're just imitating the silly newscaster girl voice. It's supposed to make her confident, and take-charge. That… attitude you described? That… gather around, while she directs the sun rising and setting, she's in charge of that too? That is, some girl somewhere noticed coaches, and how they see them talk. So? That's how anyone confident, and in charge? Should be. Its all so fake, it would be funnier if it wasn't so tragic."

  "What's so tragic about it?"

  "Well. For one thing. If women are such natural girl-bosses, like they cim. Then why do women have to be taught how to dress, how to talk, how to frown, what kind of gsses to buy and when to touch them. Answer? Its no different than when the little girl pyed dress up, as the princess. The adult girl? Is pying dress up, to be the girl-boss at work. Here's the tragic part. That coach act? Writers at Retards Monthly, were asked for an article. How to act and dress to dominate the boys at work, or something. The girly writer? Sees coaches, during games. She thinks that's how a confident leader is now. You pyed sports. You know it and I know it. Coaches only act like that during a game? At game time. Or during practice. They raise their voice, so everyone can hear them. The hand motions? Are because in the confusion of a game or big practice, it makes sense. Coaches don't act like that all day. When there's no game or practice? They act like normal people."

  "And the girls are walking around all day, imitating game day coach behavior. This isn't a trick? I'm not getting… extra basement time for ughing?"

  "No. It's silly. Here's the sad truth. You take any 100 guys, and stick them on a field, or an office, or some factory floor somewhere. I don't care where. Pick the 100 at random. You come back an hour ter? With no prompting, with no rules… you'll come back and see several guys standing, with a bunch of guys near and around them. Asking questions, they'll think and give answers. Point over there, is where he's talking about. I don't care who you put in charge ter on, you come back again, with no warning? Those same guys, in charge or not? Will be the ones everyone goes up to, checking what they should be doing, and asking if they're doing okay. Those? Are your natural leaders. That's the guy that should be the coach, that's the guy that should be the manager. Not… whoever they put in that position."

  "Makes sense. It happens in the service. Everyone knows when its crunch time, who to ask for what. On paper? So and so, is an inspiration to his men, and they hang on his every word and gesture."

  "Yeah. Women are people, just like men. The women divide themselves up, naturally, the same way. Now. Take a few girls, and stick them on that field, with the men. They'll do what the men are doing. Looking around and deciding which guy they should huddle around. A good… top leader? Can figure out which people to put in the position. The one everyone naturally looks to, without being told. Now, you fuck that up? Oh, boy. Think… coach's kid, thinking he's the assistant coach. Think… owner's son, is going to be a floor boss, or an office manager. If they're not natural at it? Fucks everything up. These people, act like they're in charge. They're not really. It gets worse when they… try to fake it and force it."

  "How old are you again? I'm kidding. I feel like I'm listening to someone older than me. Go on…"

  "Its all fake. We're teaching girls, most of whom should not be in charge of something big… to py dress up, and learn to act the role like they're in a school py. And men, that try to… force that? Not any better."

  "Wow. You saying that you're not a… girl-boss?"

  "Nope. Sorry to burst your bubble. I keep telling you. Just because I tell you what I want in bed? That comes… natural to me. I'm not… I didn't read some article. How to be dominant in the bedroom. What to say, how to say it. Read this month's Retards Monthly big article? You can go from getting grabbed and bent over, to riding tops in one day. Doesn't that sound silly? That's because it is silly. Now. Imagine a girly girl, reading that article, then trying it on her next boyfriend. Would it… work for ck of a better word?"

  He thought about it.

  "Would I like it? And I seem to like that, too. Hmm. No, it wouldn't… feel right."

  "See? Now, she can py that, one night, or one weekend. For fun. That? Is role pying. Now, let's take me. When I casually say… hey, bend over. I wanna smack your butt. Why does it work."

  "You're right. It's natural. I don't look over one day, and see you prancing around, you forgot to be in character."

  "In the bedroom? That's me. Now, the rest of the day? Normal life? No… I don't walk around, ordering everyone around. If I did? It would be fake."

  "I just saw you put on a show downstairs. Very hot, by the way. You sure didn't seem like you have a problem with it."

  "That? Is different. You see me act even remotely like that any other time? No. For as much of an insufferable cunt as my reputation might be, no. If I don't do a few things around here, they wouldn't get done. I just do it myself. After I do it myself, yeah, I make some snide comments. But I don't yell and carry on."

  "But what I saw…"

  "What you saw. How do I put this. I'm a tomboy. I rode dirt bikes with the boys. We pyed tackle football. If a guy has a girlfriend, and… some guy in the group thinks he's gonna, I don't know. Shake his dick at her when we're around the campfire on the weekends. She was doing the girl version of the same thing. Why does she think she can get away with it? Because. Girls don't fight as often as boys do, growing up. Usually. When we do? It tends to be, name calling, getting other girls to make fun of her. The big fight? Mostly pushing and shoving. Hair pulling, scratching, tearing clothes. Cat-fight. The punches? Are like puppies swatting you with their paws. You've no doubt seen little girls cat-fight bigger girls. Well? I hung around all guys. I'll punch a girl right in the mouth."

  "Yeah. It was a whole lot more, like the guys having a discussion about someone smacking their girl on the ass."

  "Because that's what it was. If you let a guy smack your girl on the ass? She's either going to compin, or sometimes, after the guy gets away with it and you let him do it… she'll go fuck him."

  "Aren't you the… girl-boss on the team?"

  "Not like you think. I don't walk around pretending I'm the assistant coach. I'm a pyer. If the coach asks me things, if the coach tells me to just do things without asking on the field. Yeah. I'm doing what I'm told, just like everyone else."

  "So you are coach's pet."

  "No. Coach's pet? Always kissing up. Asking to do things. Am I bringing the coach an apple everyday? No. In football, you call pys. Its a lot more pnned, what you're trying to do. In soccer? Its a mess. We work on how to react to things in practice, then scrimmage it. In a game? When that happens, we know how to react. Problem is, every game is different. Every pyer is a different combination of things. You move pyers around to account for it. Coach doesn't get the luxury of getting a chance to call pys, with things starting and stopping, like football, or baseball."

  "So you…"

  "If I see a girl with a problem on some mismatch, yeah, we have hand signals to temporarily switch positions. We know to fall back to regur, when the ball's back up field, and the coach can have a chance to switch pyers around, if he liked how it went. There's no time to argue, you instinctively follow a signal. The girls go with it, the coach likes it. He wants me to do it, its a band aid, its temporary. If he sees it working? He'll make the switch during a timeout. There's big shot coaches, and there's fluid coaches. He's a fluid coach. I can't py with a big shot, you do it like we do it in practice, and my way or the highway. A fluid coach sees that? He'll create mismatches, and eat you alive."

  "Why do they even have anything but fluid coaches then?"

  "Little league? Most of the coaches beat it into their heads. Do what I say! Like we practiced it! The girls get used to it. You get to junior high? Most of them are still like that. High school? Too many of them, and the little schools don't know any better than to look for another kind of coach. My high school coach? He had to expin fluid to us. Now, you got stars all over the states. These girls come here, and lots of them had my way or the highway coaches… that's what they're used to. The coach? Has trouble getting them to py this way. Freshman girls take a while to get used to it. Can't have some girl rolling her eyes, and not following signals. There's one or two more of me on the field. We're in it, we can see things the coach can't see. But what he can see, is when the temporary switch is working."

  "And… the fact you protect the girls, and can move yourself into position to…"

  "Yeah. If you're gonna steal the little girl's milk money? You're gonna hear from me. Do you have any idea how dirty girls soccer is at this level?"

  "Not really."

  "Hmm. You watched on TV. Leg show."

  He smiled, shrugged and blushed a little.

  "Yeah. Guilty."

  "On TV. The camera, follows the ball. The ref? Watches the py around the ball. Lots of shit is going on, everywhere else. Yeah, the girls that py dirty? Learn how to get away with murder. They learn when they're in position, that the ref can't see them. The crowd? They see it. They scream, they boo, the coaches pitch a fit. What the ref doesn't see? You get away with. Example. The dirty pyer will rip you onto the ground, by your hair, right before you bolt up to see who gets the free ball. She does that a couple times, that girl starts watching her. Instead of the ball, like she has to."

  This was all new to any TV watcher.

  "Then, another girl sees, and comes over and knocks her over. Can't have that. I'm used to it. Try pulling my hair. Try knocking me over. We got girls spping, punching and tripping, and get away with it all game. Guess what I do, when everyone's watching the ball. I'm waiting on it. I let her do it to me a couple times, I'm timing it, she gets my elbow in the mouth. I'll give her stitches or knock a tooth out. I put her out of the game."

  "You don't get a penalty."

  I shrugged, and grinned.

  "When I'm getting ready to bolt for the ball, my elbow just happens to accidentally get a perfect shot in the mouth. When I'm turning around on the ball, my fist just happens to whip right into your mouth. These things just happen."

  "What if you get in a fight?"

  "Oh. It better be worth it. If I can get a starting pyer, eating us alive, to take a swing at me? If I can talk shit and get her to punch me in the mouth, and start a fight? I let her. She? Gets thrown out of the game. Or, I can put her out of the game."

  "Pnned."

  "Oh no. Perish the thought. But, when I'm sliding in to get the ball, I'm supposed to be going for the ball. If I just happen to take her leg out, and she gets a limp? Star pyer out. We jokingly call it… you'll love this one… adjusting the other team's roster."

  "Then they send in their goonie bird."

  "Good. Most goons? Aren't good pyers. And I'm not intimidated anyways. Send in two goons, and other girls are trying knock me around? Great. Big, dumb, slow pyers on the field now. We can burn right around them. Other girls are more interested in getting close to me, and trying to knock me over. Instead of watching the ball. Yeah. I get beat up most of the rest of the game. I'm drawing penalties. That's shots on goal, free shots. That's a stopped py. Coach gets freebie pyer changes, without a time out or waiting for a chance. We get awarded possession. I spend the rest of a game like that? Getting the shit beat out of me, and I can't retaliate. But…"

  "But…"

  "Those three zy whores you see dropping pizza boxes and throwing cups around, and hiding dirty dishes anywhere they drop them all around the townhouse? That's the main starting line. The best center, and the two best wings. They're fast, and they have the wind to keep it up all game. They have great ball control. They can pass fast, tight, and accurate. On the move, and stitch up the field in seconds. Now, they can burn around the goons sent out. They cut around those retards like race car drivers avoiding traffic cones. They're accurate when they take shots on goal. Also, they all one time it. Most people, have to stop the ball, then take their goal shot. They're ripping in on the move, and that st accurate pass? They're running full tilt, and take the shot on the fly. Accurate, it's no hail Mary goal shot."

  "You mean…"

  "While I'm getting the ever loving shit beat out of me, the rest of the game, during a game like that? Yeah. They're running the other team's backfield to death, and getting shots on goal left and right, and scoring. Those three, and the others like them? Their game, is to run and gun. I py fullback, and I move up and switch around. Give those three little breaks, get their sprint wind back. I can handle it for a short time, then I go back. I move up and take out their problems, their obstacles. Then I go back and let them do their thing. Those three? Are the… stars. They get their picture in the paper. One of them, gets the winning goal in a tight game the st minute. Me? I just get the shit kicked out of me the whole time."

  "I had no idea."

  "Just how it is. Coach has enough stars coming in. He wants a couple more like me. He says, I'm what's hard to find. I'm not really great at anything, but pying fullback. But, I'm pretty good at moving around. After games? Yeah. You'll see one of those three, the team carrying them on their shoulders off the field. They get their picture taken. They get interviewed. Me? I'm crawling home all beat up. I don't wanna go to the bar to celebrate. I want nothing more than to get home, get a hot shower, y in the tub for an hour and get whirlpool-ed. Which, is where I'm starting to think you come in."

  "Hmm? Oh, sure. You can put your arm over my shoulder, and I'll get you home and tuck you into bed."

  "No. I have a fantasy running in my head about it."

  "Oh. You… want some special treat after a big game? Anything. Just ask."

  "Not that kind of fantasy, Boo Boo."

  "That's my nickname now?"

  I smiled.

  "Boo boo butt? Boo Boo. Will you blush when I call you that? I won't do it, if it'll embarrass you around the house."

  "Have fun. And what does this little fantasy after a big game have your little Boo Boo doing for you?"

  "Honestly? I could tell you. Like I said, its a fantasy. Not something I expect. But, if you're asking."

  "I am. Tell it like a story…"