TA-123  Tied For Abuse
By Unknown


Chapter One

 Eighth Street downtown wasn't the best section of town but if you 
went through the city's urban development program you could pick up an old 
Victorian for a song. That's what Miranda Saunderson, and her room mate, 
Jan Feldon did last summer. It was the Wendell place, one hundred-thirty 
years old, and Miranda finally convinced Jan it was the buy of the century.

 Miranda and Jan were the owners, operators of Hendersonville's 
lingerie boutique, located in the heart of downtown, next to the deli and 
Cheap Shot camera store. They started the business back in eighty three but
didn't share a home until Miranda pointed out the savings to both if they 
bought a home together.

 That was her forte, saving money. Miranda was the sort of girl who 
lived frugally. She kept her share of the profits stashed away in bank 
accounts all over town, while Jan, well, let's just say the only thing Jan 
Feldon ever saved were ticket stubs from the Van Halen concert at 
Hendersonville's civic center last October, and a picture of Tom Cruise she
acquired after buying her Lady Buxton.

 It was getting late and Marty would arrive any minute. Jan scurried
around the house getting ready while Miranda fixed a chef salad for supper.
Typical scene of their lives together. Miranda spent her free time 
sketching designs for their lingerie store while Jan danced, kissed, 
flirted and frittered her evenings away on the arm of a different male 
escort every night.

 "What time is it now?" Jan yelled from the bathroom.

 "Quarter till."

 "Shit! Well, he'll just have to wait." Jan said, with defiance. She
pretended to mind running late for her dates, but the truth was, she loved 
keeping the men waiting. Jan thought it gave her the edge

 "Jan will be ready shortly, Marty. So, where are over the evening. 
She figured if you make a man simmer with anticipation right from the 
start, the entire evening would be under your control.

 Miranda got the salad dressing from the refrigerator then sat to 
enjoy the meal. She was used to dining alone. It was a nightly ritual, as 
Jan rarely ate at home. She flipped on the news then settled back.

 "Well?" Jan asked, entering the room. "What do you think?" Miranda 
looked up then gave a grin.

 "He'll go nuts." she said.

 "You think so?"

 "Absolutely, Jan, how could it miss. It's terrific."

 "I'm wearing the Sean LeFlur." Jan said, spinning around once then 
striking a sexy pose. Miranda didn't comment. Sean LeFlur was underwear. 
She wasn't quite sure how to respond.

 Just then, the doorbell rang and Jan scampered to the bedroom. She 
told Miranda to invite him in then keep him occupied until she was ready. 
Miranda didn't question it. She already knew the game. She opened the door 
and Marty came inside.

 "Hi, I'm Miranda, Jan's room mate, won't you come in?" she smiled 
sweetly. Marty introduced himself then took a seat on the sofa. He had 
flowers and candy for Jan and when Miranda offered him a drink, she took 
the pretty bouquet and put it in water.

 "Jan will be ready shortly, Marty. So, where are you two going?" 
she asked.

 "I thought we might have dinner at Marilee's then get in some 
dancing." he said, taking his scotch.

 "Marilee's?" Miranda smiled. "Lovely restaurant." she said, showing
approval. "The Ninth Street Disco?" she added.

 "Ya, Jan likes it there. So, Jan tells me you're the designer for 
the shop?"

 "Not really." Miranda blushed. She fancied herself a designer but 
was too humble to openly refer to herself as one. After all, she had no 
formal training in the field. It was just something she liked doing and 
something she did well. "I dabble in it." she said.

 "I'd say no was more than a dabble. Jan's modeled several of your 
creations for me and I must tell you." Marty fanned his palm up and down 
gesturing heat, then smiled. There it was again, Miranda thought. Reference
to Jan's underwear. Miranda wondered how many Hendersonville men had 
actually seen them. She dated a different man every night, all three 
hundred sixty five of them, and had been doing so since high school. 
Miranda's numerically efficient brain went to work with a quick 
calculation, figuring a potential of possible viewers and, after allowing 
for the standard ten percent margin of error, concluded the total number of
men who actually saw Jan's under things could be, one thousand, nine 
hundred seventy. Naw, she thought, there's no way. Miranda thanked Marty 
for the compliment then filled his glass again with scotch.

 "Careful," he warned, jokingly. "I'm a madman when drunk." Miranda 
blushed. She wasn't in practice talking with men. She dated once, in high 
school, but Chad Barrett wasn't a challenge to her feminine charm. He took 
her to the drive-in picture show and gurgled soda pop in between devouring 
two foot longs with chili, onion and relish. Making an effort with him 
would be like sticking your finger in an electric fan without getting cut. 
It would be the ultimate challenge but who would want to try?

 "Don't get drunk, Marty." Miranda said. "Jan would never forgive me
if her date passed out before you two had a chance to eat dinner."

 "Speaking of dinner, where is that woman?" Marty asked, looking at 
his watch. It was getting late and their reservation wouldn't keep forever.
"I'll go see what's keeping her." Miranda smiled. "Don't go away." Miranda 
went to the bedroom and found Jan listening to a Van Halen tape. She 
couldn't believe the attitude of the girl. A perfectly handsome gentleman 
waiting to whisk her off to dinner and she was keeping him all this time 
for no good reason.

 "Jan." Miranda shook her shoulder. Jan removed the ear phones. "Are
you coming?"

 "In a minute." Jan said, putting them back on.

 "Jan." Miranda shook her again.

 "What?"

 "Marty is waiting."

 "So, let him."

 "It's getting late, Jan. Maybe you'd better go. He brought flowers 
and candy." Miranda said, her eyes wide with brow raised. Miranda was 
impressed by Marty's romantic gesture. No one ever brought her flowers or 
candy. No one ever brought Miranda anything. She figured when Jan learned 
of her dates sweet offering the girl would put down the ear phones and 
hurry to be, by his side.

 "Oh, just great." she sneered. "I hate it when they do that." she 
snipped. "Men are such assholes, Miranda, don't you think so?" Miranda 
didn't understand her room mates reaction. Giving flowers and candy seemed 
like a perfectly lovely thing for a man to do.

 "I thought it was sweet." she said.

 "My ass! Don't they realize we don't look the way we do just by 
accident? Candy, for God's sake, Miranda. Would you eat it?"

 "Well, sure I would." Miranda said. "Maybe not in one night, but 
sure, I'd nibble. Good grief, Jan, the man didn't have to bring a thing. I 
like Marty. He seems very romantic. Anyway, he's starting to look at his 
watch. I think you'd better come on."

 "Oh, alright, just give me another minute. Ya know what your 
problem is, Miranda?" Jan asked, smirking. "You give too much importance to
a man. They're all just after one thing and the longer we keep them waiting
for it, the more control we have deciding when and how then get it."

 Miranda entertained Marty another five minutes before Jan finally 
came out with her bright red mini showing off the shapely curves of her 
sexy legs and Marty looked as if he'd explode the minute she entered the 
room. Jan had flare. She was exciting and flamboyant, yet sensually 
mysterious. Miranda often thought she'd like to be more like her business 
partner. Jan was flirtatious and vibrant. She had a knack of wooing 
customers, especially the men, and livening up a room seemed her specialty.
Keeping the books and sketching a few designs didn't have the ostentatious 
appeal Miranda fantasized about, but it was what she did best and, after 
all, for every mover and shaker there had to be an opposite. It was 
nature's law.

 Marty hailed a cab and they drove toward Marilee's. She sat with 
her knees to him and let his eyes feast on the sight of silk stocking 
disappearing under the skirt. Marty didn't waste a second looking at Jan's 
feminine figure. He took in every curve of it before the cabbie turned the 
first corner, and by the time they made Marilee's, his cock was feeling the
heat.

 The table was beautiful and Marty pulled out her chair. Jan always 
made it a point to flaunt her figure and as she sat down, let her date see 
a glimpse of garter belt.

 "I just love Marilee's. "Jan purred. "Don't you?"

 "It's very nice, Jan, very nice." Marty said. His eyes looked 
hungry but the menu at Marilee's wasn't what he had in mind. It alone 
wouldn't be enough to satisfy the pangs. He needed more than mere food to 
stop the yearning in his stomach. He needed Jan.

 "So, did you and Miranda get to know each other?" she asked, 
putting her napkin in place.

 "Miranda, sure, I guess. She's a nice kid. A little too 
goody-goody, but nice. Now, you on the other hand." he said, making that 
same stupid fanning motion.

 "What do you mean, goody-goody?" she asked.

 "Nothing, just ... well, you know what I mean, Jan. Miranda is the 
kind of girl you fix your brother up with. She's sweet and pleasant. She's 
the sort of girl you'd date if you wanted hot tea by the fire and a bag of 
Pepperidge Farm cookies. I like the kid, she's just, well, not a fire ball,
you know what I mean?"

 "Ya, Miranda is kind of dull, isn't she?" Jan smiled. Jan asked her
dates the same questions, the first always what they thought about Miranda.
She did it to feel the tingle of lust it gave her as all the men noted 
Miranda's sweet personality but lack of fire. Jan liked hearing it. She 
needed to hear it to feel superior. It was her only way to compensate for 
the void she felt working along side a woman who could handle any thing. 
Jan knew Miranda's brain was the reason behind their business success and 
she felt inferior to her most of the time, but when Jan's dates remarked 
that Miranda lacked fire, she somehow became engulfed in it, and the rest 
of the evening was hot for both she and her nightly selection.

 
 
 * * * * *

 The dishes were washed and put away and Miranda changed into the 
long tee-shirt nightie she'd bought during her trip to Disney World. She 
took out her sketch pad and doodled a few lines then let the book fall to 
her lap. Miranda didn't want to admit this, but she was lonely. Sitting 
home night after night was getting to her and after talking with Jan's date
she felt the realization stronger than ever.

 She thought back to their conversation and remembered the way Marty
looked at her when she spoke. Miranda liked it when a man looked right into
her eyes. She took it as a sign he had nothing to hide, that he was up 
front, honest and. to be trusted. Some men looked off when they talked, and
Miranda wasn't comfortable with that. The guy at Best Gas Station did that 
and she figured him to be married and stepping out on the wife.

 Miranda did that. She imagined whole scenarios about people's lives
just by the color of their hair or the way they moved their lips when they 
talked. She fancied herself a good judge of character, able to pick out the
good guys from the bad, but more than that, Miranda justified her 
loneliness because of her ability to judge people. She told herself that 
was the reason she didn't date. There was no one out there who's character 
couldn't be questioned, except of course Jan's dates, which all seemed to 
her the pick of the crop.

 She made some hot tea then settled in for the nine o'clock movie. 
Miranda loved the old black and white's. Fred and Ginger toyed with romance
between their spontaneous dance numbers and Jimmy Stewart had such innocent
appeal. She absolutely fell in love with him in, Mr. Smith goes to 
Washington. Miranda wondered at what point in his career he became known as
James. Maybe, she thought, it was after the war when he made, It's a 
Wonderful Life, but Miranda didn't dwell on it. She just soaked him in, 
whether they billed him as Jimmy or James.

 Tonight's feature starred Jean Crane in, Pinky, one of Miranda's 
favorites. It seemed silly having someone as light as Crane portray a black
woman but her performance was so convincing, the viewer had no choice but 
to believe it. Miranda wondered what her life would be like had she been 
born black. Would she have the shop with Jan? Would she even know Jan? Was 
it right for Pinky to deny the white's assumption she was white? Miranda 
tried to put herself in the same situation then speculate what she might 
have done. Probably the same thing, she thought. It wouldn't be a matter of
denying her race so much, just a way to get further alone in life. Blacks 
didn't have it easy back in Pinky's time, and for that matter, Miranda 
reasoned, they still don't.

 The evening dragged on and after the movie Miranda went to bed. She
wasn't tired really, but it was bed-time, and at bed-time you go to bed. 
She stared at the ceiling for awhile then rolled over on her stomach and 
tried counting sheep. Whom ever came up with that idea must have had mush 
for brains, she thought. Not only couldn't she picture what a sheep looked 
like, the three animals she did manage to conjure up kept slamming their 
heads into the hurdles. Miranda figured it was better to stare at the 
ceiling than get a headache watching poor furry creatures break their 
necks.

 She thought about Marty again seeing his pretty green eyes in her 
mind. What if Marty liked me better than Jan, she thought? What if he 
really wanted to take me to Marilee's but was too much the gentleman to 
break his date with her? Miranda closed her eyes and fantasized the scene.

 Marty knocked at the door and she let him in. Right away, his face 
lit up seeing Miranda's girlish figure and smooth complexion. She could 
tell he was eager to kiss her, but for the sake of lady-like behavior, she 
wouldn't let him, at least not yet.

 She offered him a drink then took the seat next to him. Marty 
couldn't concentrate on anything but her. His upper lip began to sweat and 
excitement welled in his veins. He undid his tie then the buttons on his 
shirt, and Miranda watched as he slipped it off exposing his muscular chest
and long masculine arms.

 Marty moved close to her on the sofa. He took her in his arms and 
pressed her face to his bare chest. She felt the wetness in her pussy as he
kissed her tenderly on the lips and just as she was about to break free, he
reached down fingering her smooth soft slit.

 Miranda couldn't fight it. The passion in her veins flowed like 
rain water down a gutter blocked street. She spread her thighs for him 
letting his masculine finger dip all the way in, then she lay back on the 
sofa as Marty knelt between her legs.

 The heat from his tongue warmed her soaking hole and the deeper he 
probed, the hotter she became. Her hands took his head and pulled him 
closer. Miranda felt the length his tongue slipping in and out, and she 
held him to her, letting the stimulation of lust overpower her body. 
Miranda's finger darted in and out of her pussy as she fantasized about 
Jan's date. She imagined Marty's moans of pleasure as he slid his swollen 
cock into her wide eager snatch and she moaned in reply, feeling the 
thrusts of her digit going deeper up the slimy canal. Miranda hadn't been 
flicked by a man in three years. She felt so guilty getting drunk that 
night and picking up a total stranger that she made it a policy not to 
date, until every memory of that evening was erased from her mind. She 
masturbated to get relief, that's how she managed, and usually she found 
herself masturbating using a fantasy involving Jan's date. If she liked 
him, she'd indulge, but if she didn't, she'd eat ice cream. That was the 
way it worked out, but this night, Miranda was indulging. She was feeling 
the deep penetrating throbs of Marty's cock as he buried it in her pussy 
and nothing would spoil it.

 
 
 * * * * *

 When Jan came home Miranda was washing her hands. Two minutes 
sooner and Jan would have had solid evidence which might have changed her 
opinion about her shy withdrawn room mate. Jan said hello then got a beer 
from the kitchen before coming in to tell Miranda about her date. Jan made 
it a point to fill her in. She liked seeing the envy on Miranda's face.

 "So, ask me what happened?" Jan said. Miranda dried her hands then 
grinned.

 "What happened?" she smiled.

 "He's the biggest jerk I've ever been out with, that's what 
happened." Jan followed Miranda to her room then told of Marty's attempts 
to get her in the sack. Miranda listened with her usual keen interest.

 "We were dancing, right. The jerk grabs my ass and say's, hey, 
baby, let's get the fuck out of here." Jan said. Jan used that word all the
time. She tossed it around like a little leaguer tosses his balls but 
Miranda never used it. The F-word wasn't a word ladies should make part of 
their vocabulary.

 "Did you leave?" Miranda asked.

 "Sure we did, what do you think." Jan laughed. She liked teasing 
Miranda. She got a kick seeing her squirm for the details.

 "Where'd you go?" Miranda asked, hoping Jan would take the usual 
pleasure in describing her evening.

 "Lake House." Jan said.

 "You're kidding? That's the classiest hotel in town. Did you get a 
room?" Miranda's face lit up.

 "No stupid, we fucked on the lobby floor, of course we got a room. 
It was great. I swear, Miranda, it was the nicest place I'd ever been in. 
They had crystal chandeliers in the rooms, can you imagine?" Miranda 
thought it amusing hearing Jan go on and on about the hotel's interior. 
There she was, in the swankiest hotel this side of the Mississippi River 
with a man handsome enough to be on television, and all she talked about 
was light bulbs on the ceiling. What was wrong with this girl, Miranda 
thought. Had she had so many men that taking in the dcor had become more 
exciting?

 "It sounds lovely, Jan." Miranda said, shaking her head in wonder. 
"So, will you be seeing Marty again?"

 "Are you kidding, of course not."

 "Why not?"

 "Because."

 "Because why, Jan. He seemed like a nice guy."

 "All men seem like nice guys to you, Miranda, God girl, you need to
get out more. Marty's a jerk. He's the kind of guy you take out, spend his 
money, get a good luck, and let go. God, I'm tired." Jan said, stretching 
both arms over her head. "I'm going to bed."

 "Jan." Miranda said, stopping her before she left. "Can I ask you 
something?"

 "Sure."

 Miranda wasn't certain how to do this. She'd never done it before 
and wasn't sure how to ask without seeming indelicate, but under the 
circumstances, she had to ask. It seemed like such a waste not to.

 "I wonder, well, if you're not going to see Marty anymore, do you 
think he'd go out with me?" Miranda felt the blood of embarrassment rush to
her face. How did she manage to get those words out, she wondered. It was 
border line humiliating just putting herself in the position of begging for
another woman's rejects but to do it with such desperation in her voice was
even more degrading. Jan looked at her, then a big grin smeared her face. 
She was astounded with Miranda. One, for asking, and two, for asking when 
she knew the man only wanted pussy.

 "Getting a little tired of serving sentence?" she joked, referring 
to Miranda's self imposed prison term for sowing wild oats with a stranger.

 "I just don't see any reason to let Marty get away." she said, 
being as rational as she could.

 "Hey, far be it from me to hog the field, honey. There's more than 
enough players out there for the two of us. Sure, I don't see the harm in 
your asking Marty out. I'll give you his number."

 "I couldn't ask him, Jan." Miranda said.

 "Well, how do you expect to go out with him then?"

 "I figured he'd want to ask me." Miranda said.




Chapter Two

 "Just lay it over there!" Jesse barked. "Jesus Christ, you'd think 
I was asking you to do brain surgery. Put it, no, not like that, here, just
watch what I do!"

 Jesse Vanderhorn always spoke to his son that way. He barked at 
him. Carl worked in his father's grocery store and after Carl's testing 
showed a slight disability in his learning skills, Jesse lost patience with
the young man and became more difficult to please.

 "Okay, dad, I can do it now." Carl said.

 "Be careful, don't make a mess with it. That's it, just lay the, 
no, no, no!" Jesse grabbed the plastic wrap from Carl's hands and told him 
to wash up for lunch. He wrapped the block of cheddar then came to the 
front of the store.

 "What can I get for you today, Mrs. Simmons?" Jesse asked the 
customer.

 "Have you got some elbow macaroni?" the little old lady said. "I 
want the small kind, Jesse, not that big kind."

 "Right over here, Mrs. Simmons." Jesse led her down aisle three to 
get the box of macaroni. He bent over backward for customers, showing them 
every kindness, but to his own family, Jesse was a tyrant.

 "What else for you, Mrs. Simmons?"

 "I need some milk."

 "Right over here. You stay, I'll get it for you. Two percent, Mrs. 
Simmons?" he yelled from the cooler.

 "Yes, I want the two. I don't want that watery stuff, Jesse. I 
don't like that watery kind."

 Carl worked in back cutting cheese and preparing cold cut platters.
He seldom came out front, more because Jesse didn't want the embarrassment 
than a lack of desire. Carl worked every day at Vanderhorn's grocery. His 
mother, Alice, usually helped him with the duties but this day she was 
seeing the eye doctor.

 Carl watched Mrs. Simmons from the pass through. He spied on all 
the customers that way. It was his way of mingling with the rest of the 
world. He'd stand back from the small opening and take quick glances to the
front. Once he saw a young kid put a candy bar in his pocket but Carl 
didn't tell his father. Jesse would have called the police and Carl 
couldn't see the point.

 Mrs. Simmons paid for her order then left. Jesse was quick to open 
the door and warmly tell her to come again. His reputation around town was 
one of good standing. Jesse Vanderhorn, they'd say. What a pleasant man. 
What a saint.

 Carl sliced the roast beef thin then rolled it into cylinders and 
arranged them on the lettuce bed covering the aluminum tray. He'd sometimes
stick decorative toothpicks through the meat rolls to hold them together 
but Jesse always had to rearrange them. He was rarely satisfied with Carl's
efforts, no matter how good.

 "Carl!" the old man yelled. "Come out here!" Carl came to the pass 
through and looked out. Jesse was holding up a broken pickle jar.

 "Get the mop and clear away this mess." he ordered. The young man 
did as he was told.

 The heavy mop bucket squeaked noisily when Carl rolled it to the 
aisle. He'd meant to spray WD-40 on the metal wheels but kept forgetting. 
The pickle juice was everywhere and Carl gave a sigh making up his mind 
where to begin. First, he picked up the pickles and, for lack of anyplace 
else to put them, slipped them into his apron pocket. Next, he took out a 
rag and wiped the splashing's off the other jars. When a jar of pickles 
smashes to the floor it sprays the juice all over the other goods. It 
seemed the logical way to clean, from the top down, but Jesse found fault 
and told him to mop first, and again, Carl did what he was told.

 "There's my little darling." Jesse said, speaking to Miranda as she
came into the store.

 "Hi, Mr. Vanderhorn." she said.

 "Jesse! Jesse!" the old man smiled. "What can I get for you today, 
missy?" Carl turned around and looked at Miranda. Her long silky hair 
flowed past her shoulders and her tiny frame and feminine curves made his 
knees weak and his heart nervous.

 "Just some milk, Mr. Vanderhorn." she said.

 "What am I gonna have to do to get you to call me Jesse?" he asked 
with a grin. "Hey, it ain't every day I ask a pretty young girl to call me 
by my first name." But it was. Jesse Vanderhorn flirted with all the young 
customer's, especially Miranda. He liked her. She was always sweet and 
always respectful. When she came in, he made it a point to wait on her. 
Miranda wasn't like some of the girls. Some would call him old man and make
fun of his bald head, but Miranda always showed class.

 "Now, Mr. Vanderhorn, what would your wife think if I were to start
calling you by your first name?" she joked. "Mrs. Vanderhorn wouldn't let 
me come in and shop anymore, then where would I get my milk and eggs?"

 "Never you mind about the misses, you darling sweet girl." he said.
"You just leave that to me. What else can I get for you?" he asked.

 "Nothing, thanks."

 "Who's that?" Miranda asked, seeing Carl on the aisle with the mop.

 "He's nobody, just a helper. You need tea?"

 "No, not today, thanks. I don't remember ever seeing him before, 
has he worked here long?"

 "Ya, long time. Carl works in back."

 "He's kind of cute." Miranda said.

 "You think so, eh, Carl, come over here. You come meet Miss Miranda
Saunderson." Jesse yelled. Carl felt like Jesse had just nailed a sign to 
his back reading, Ox at work, Don't feed the animals. His heart jumped into
his throat then fell to his stomach and before Jesse had the chance to 
order him over a second time, Carl disappeared to the back.

 "What's the matter with him?" Miranda asked.

 "Nothing's the matter, Carl's just shy. Two twenty nine." Jesse 
said, ringing her order.

 Miranda thanked the old man then gave her regards for Mrs. 
Vanderhorn before leaving. Jesse ran to hold the door for her then ran to 
the back room once the store was vacant.

 "Why'd you run like that?" he yelled at his son. "You looked stupid
running away like that. The lady don't bite, you know. You were rude to the
girl, Carl. What's the matter with you?"

 "I don't know."

 "What's the matter, girls scare you, Carl?" Carl shrugged. "Aaaah! 
What's a father gonna do with a son like you? Put that tray away before it 
goes bad. I can't afford wasting good cuts that way. I ain't made of money 
you know. Go on, put it in the cooler."

 "It's not " Carl started to tell Jesse he hadn't finished but the 
old man refused back talk.

 "Ah, ah, ah, never mind the lip. You just do what I tell ya!" Jesse
went to wait on his customers leaving Carl to follow out his orders.

 Carl was a handsome young man, tall, slender, dark brown hair with 
unusual hazel eyes. They had yellow flecks of color surrounding his pupils 
and his mother always told him the angels had dusted them giving him great 
vision. Carl liked his mother. She was kind and loving, but sometime even 
Alice made him feel awkward. She would never intentionally hurt Carl's 
feelings but in all her pampering and fussing, sometimes made him feel like
a child and not a lull grown man.

 It was a Catch 22 life for him at the store. Had Jesse seen the 
unfinished platter in the cooler, Carl would have gotten a lecture on 
cheating the customers out of their fair share, and if he got caught 
disobeying his father's orders, he'd hear the one about fatherly respect 
and how a child owe's that. Carl made sure his father was busy with 
customers before finishing the tray and putting it in the cooler.

 He thought about the beautiful lady Jesse wanted him to meet and 
how she was the loveliest thing he'd ever set eyes on. He'd seen Miranda in
the store a number of times but each time he kept well hidden in the back 
spying at her from the safety of his pass through window. From the moment 
he first lay eyes on Miranda, Carl felt something exciting in his soul. He 
wanted to be near her, to feel her hair and touch her smooth soft skin, but
he would never assume such a fantasy could come true, but at least now he 
knew her name. He thought it was the most beautiful name he'd ever heard.

 Carl never dated. He dropped out of school in the ninth grade and 
never experienced what it was like to kiss a woman. His only experience was
speculation from seeing movies and watching it on the big screen.

 Alice often dwelled on the improbability of having grandchildren. 
She knew how it was for Carl. He was awkward. His social skills were 
seriously lacking because he kept himself cooped up all day away from 
others. He never practiced speech with strangers. Carl was the sort of 
timid soul who would wander a city street completely lost before he'd ask 
directions. He didn't want the risk involved in dealing with people. What 
if they laughed at him, or worse, ignored him? Alice tried to resolve 
herself to the fact that Carl was an undesirable but at times she would sit
and cry feeling the deep sense of loss.

 Jesse, on the other hand, clung to the belief his son was a freak. 
Carl was an embarrassment to the family. An odd ball, clumsy and stupid. 
The boy showed no common sense, as far as he could tell, and between the 
two parents, Carl was made to feel different from the jest of the world. He
felt like the odd man out, awkward, clumsy, and undesirable.

 Carl saw the mop resting against the wall by the back room door and
remembered the aisle still needed mopping, but before he could pick it up 
and start back, Jesse was yelling for him to take care of it.

 Alice came back from the doctor right as Jesse was getting ready to
slap the boy and when she saw her husband's hand raised, let out a cry.

 "Don't you dare!" she shouted. "What is going on here?"

 "Never mind, what." Jesse barked. "He's got it coming." Jesse 
lowered his hand but Alice wanted an explanation.

 "For what?" she insisted. "What terrible thing did Carl do now?" 
she said, mocking Jesse's sense of terrible happenings.

 "Aaah, never mind, just forget it." Jesse stormed off. Alice 
putdown her coat then came to the boy.

 "What happened, Carl?" she asked, stroking his hair. Carl was glad 
to, see his mother but why did she have to stroke him as if he were a 
wounded puppy, he thought. If Jesse had slapped him, he could have taken 
it. She didn't have to treat him like a helpless victim.

 "Nothing, ma, dad got upset because of the pickle juice, that's 
all."

 "What pickle juice?" she asked. Carl explained .about the broken 
jar and as he related it, Alice's eyes grew cold and angry.

 "Never mind, Carl, you stay back here. I want to have a word with 
your father." She stormed from the back room to the register where Jesse 
was counting the days receipts.

 "What's the matter with you?" she snapped at Jesse. "How come you 
use the boy?"

 "What are you talking about, use? I don't use Carl, he uses us." 
Jesse believed that about his son. Part of him wanted to think the boy was 
incapable and therefore dependent on them yet the other half of his 
reasoning was thinking Carl wanted a free ride.

 "You smash a jar of pickles and the boy has to clean it up? What 
kind of arrangement is that?" Alice questioned.

 "It's his job!" Jesse barked.

 "Since when? Since when is it Carl's job to clean up after you?"

 "Oh, Mama-mia, Alice, what? The boy can't mop pickles now, what? 
It's Carl's job to keep this store clean, you know that. When the pickles 
break, it's his job to take care of it. For Christ sake, if I can't use him
to mop up around here, what the hell good is he?"

 "His job is making platters, Jesse, you know damn right well, Carl 
makes the platters. You break pickles, you clean them up. No more do I want
my son mopping up pickles."

 "Your son? I'm the boys father, for Christ sake. What, he can't 
help an old man now?"

 "Oh, don't give me that old man stuff, Jesse, it's worn out. You're
not too old to go to Flannery's Bar. You're not too old to chase Marilyn 
Arnelli around the stinking pool table. I don't wanna hear from old no 
more. Carl don't mop the pickles, that's all I gotta say."

 "I'll tell you, Alice, maybe Carl needs a new job, eh? Maybe 
working at the store ain't such a good idea. He can't, mop, he can't clean.
He can't be trusted to make platters the way he should. I think maybe you 
should find your son another job. Something special for his kind. How about
we get him a job sweeping the sidewalks, or maybe he could carry birdseed 
to the feeders the city puts out.

 I think he could be trusted with that. I don't wanna argue about 
this no more, the boy isn't pulling his load around here. He needs to be in
a special place where he can be with his kind."

 "What, his kind? We're his kind!"

 "No!" Jesse yelled, pointing a finger to Alice's face. "We're his 
parents that's all we are. His kind lives in institutions, they don't work 
in grocery stores!"

 Carl listened as his parents argued. It wasn't the first time he'd 
heard it. They did it once a week if they did it at all. Carl understood 
what they were saying. The testing he took showed slight disability in 
learning, that didn't mean he hadn't learned. He was a full functioning 
male with intelligence and pride, feelings and desires. He wasn't unaware 
how his behavior affected Alive and Jesse, just too timid to make a change 
in it.

 When he attempted to think on his own, Jesse squashed the effort, 
sitting his mental abilities were too lacking for initiative. When he gave 
in to his father and let the old man brow beat him, Alice was there to lick
his wounds. She didn't stand up for him. She didn't say, Jesse, let the boy
think for himself, he's capable. Alice just tried to smooth his hurts. Even
now as she stood toe to toe over the pickle issue, it wasn't clear what she
wanted.

 Was she saying, Carl doesn't mop pickles because he's the platter 
boy, capable of producing quality meat trays for the customers and if it's 
a janitor you want hire unskilled labor, or was she saying, hey, you don't 
make my poor, helpless baby clean up your mess, as a matter of principal 
because he's a poor helpless baby?

 Whatever the issue, Carl was sick of hearing them argue. It never 
changed anything. Jesse still made him feel like a bumbling doofus and 
Alice came around licking his wounds. When would they let him grow into his
manhood, he wondered. When will Jesse and Alice begin to see him as a full 
grown man?

 "Don't you ever say that to me, Jesse Vanderhorn, never! There's 
nothing wrong with Carl that a kind word from you wouldn't cure."

 "Oh, sure, now it's my fault he's an idiot." Jesse shouted.

 "The, boy is no idiot, he's just slow. There's a big difference in 
the two, Jesse, you of all people should know that."

 "What is that supposed to mean, Alice?"

 "Never mind, what! You just don't make Carl mop broken pickles, 
that's all I gotta say." Alice stormed into the back room to be with Carl 
but he'd left the mop resting against the butcher block and the door to the
alley wide open. He was gone.

 
 
 * * * * *

 Carl ran down Attison Boulevard toward the shore. He had to get 
away from the shouting. Another minute and he'd have exploded. His long 
lags looked like hinged sticks and he didn't stop running until reaching 
Atlantic Highway.

 Walking along the peaceful ocean front had a soothing effect on 
Carl. The gentle crashing of high tide waves set his ears to ringing and he
loved the smell of salted air and the whispering flutters of seagull's 
wings.

 It was cold by the shoreline and Carl had run out without his 
jacket, but he forged ahead up the long stretch of private beach, tucking 
his hands into his pockets and nestling his chin to his collar bone. He 
wondered if other families fought this way. The yelling; the anger? Did 
other father's hate their son's as much as Jesse hated him, and did other 
mother's suffocate with kindness the way Alice buried him with hers?

 The more Carl thought about his life, the angrier he felt. It 
wasn't the pickles. Carl didn't mind helping out and keeping the store 
ship-shape. He was a Vanderhorn too. His reputation was on the line just as
Jesse's. It was the way Jesse went about it. It was his degrading tone and 
demanding demeanor Carl had trouble understanding. It wasn't necessary to 
shout. He could hear, he wasn't deaf or dumb. Why couldn't Jesse inform him
that a jar broke on isle two? Why was it always an order instead of a 
revelation? And, Alice. She meant well, but her coddling left him 
frustrated. To just shove it aside would seem rude but at times that's what
he yearned to do. Carl wanted to shove the both of them aside, but didn't 
know how.

 He roamed the cold shoreline trying to calm himself but the anger 
welled inside like hot lava must churn in the bowels of the earth. He 
needed to release the burning and the only way he knew how was to 
physically lash out. Carl never directed his anger toward people. He was 
sensible enough to recognize the division between the people who hurt and 
the innocent public. He took his anger out on himself by bashing rocks to 
his legs or hitting his fist to a concrete wall until the blood ran off his
elbow.

 "Hey you?" A voice yelled. "This is private beach here. You're not 
supposed to be here." Carl turned around and saw a middle-aged man in 
bathing trunks quickly approaching. His mouth was moving, but in his anger,
Carl couldn't make out the words.

 "I'll have to ask you not to walk on this section of the beach 
anymore." the man said. "I pay good money for this beach and part of the 
reason is because it's private. Hey, are you listening to me?" the man 
shouted. 

 "What, I'm sorry." Carl said. He finally realized the man was 
speaking to him.

 "I said get off this beach."

 "Why?" Carl asked.

 "I told you why, are you, retarded? Don't come around here anymore,
this is private beach. If I see you here again I'll call the police." When 
the man turned around, Carl watched him walk off in a huff. What had he 
done wrong, he wondered? And since when had the ocean become private 
property? Carl became confused. His family's arguing drove him off and now 
a stranger was driving him from the one place he found solitude. Carl began
to scream as loud as he could. His mouth opened; his knees bent, and he let
out a shrill that could be heard a mile up the beach. The man turned to 
look and when he saw Carl screaming; ran toward his house to call the 
police.

 For thirty seconds Carl let off steam and when his scream finished,
he felt better. It was easier than punching stone and much more tolerable 
than pounding his shin with a rock.

 He walked to the road then had a seat on the bus bench. Carl 
watched the traffic passing, the shiny new cars zipping from light to 
light, passing, honking, rushing nowhere in particular. He felt a sense of 
calm in having no place to go, but Carl had to go somewhere. Everyone 
needed to be somewhere.

 He thought about staying on the bus bench but reasoned the driver's
would get angry having to stop then his refusing to board. He thought about
going to the library but his card was home in his wallet, and besides, he'd
already read every book they had.

 Finally, Carl concluded there was only one place he could go. He 
started toward Attison with a heavy heart and when he came to the alley, 
stopped to take a deep breath before going on. The grocery store was just a
few doors down and he hoped Jesse and Alice were through arguing. It would 
push him over the edge to hear their shouting now. He came to the back door
and took another deep breath. When he stepped inside, Alice was in the back
room. She was checking the meat platters for the morning pick-ups, seeing 
to it he had done them correctly.

 "Carl!" she said, tears in her eyes, running to hug her baby boy. 
"Where did you go, I was so worried?"

 "Nowhere, ma, I just went out."

 "Out, where out? You could have been hurt, Carl. You shouldn't just
go out without telling me. I worry so much. Are you alright?"

 "Ma, stop worrying about me, okay?" Carl said, hoping Alice might 
listen to his meaning.

 "How can a mother do that, Carl?" she said, hugging her boy.




Chapter Three

 "I-I, I'm Miranda, Jan's room mate. Won't you come in?" she smiled 
sweetly. It was the same thing night after night and Miranda had done it 
for so long it sounded like a recording. Charles introduced himself as 
Jan's lucky number then took a seat on the sofa. He was one of the blatant 
jerks. The sort of guy only desperate women dated, but Miranda offered him 
a drink just the same. If Jan wanted to waste her time with losers like 
Charles, she wasn't going to pass judgment.

 "You must be Miranda?" he said, bobbing his neck up and down like a
turkey. She couldn't help wondering where he was six seconds ago when she 
told him that very thing, but bright wasn't an attribute the brazen 
possessed. Their oversized ego's usually blocked the passage of other 
people's words.

 "Right." Miranda smiled, handing him the scotch. "and you're 
Charles."

 "That's me, the one and only. Hey, good booze. So, where's the 
chick?"

 "I would imagine in the coop." Miranda answered. She loved playing 
games with hustler's like Charles. It didn't make a good impression on his 
type but in a direct way that was welcome knowledge.

 "Cute. You, Jan." he shouted. "burgers don't taste as good after 
they've sat under the heat lamp for two hours, get the lead out." he was 
laughing at his own cleverness. Miranda had to join in. This guy was 
definitely unique. Miranda would give anything to see the rock Jan lifted 
to find this jewel.

 "You two lived here long?" he asked.

 "Since last summer."

 "You ain't sweet on each other, are you?" he joked. Miranda thought
about it but decided messing with a mind like Charles's could prove 
dangerous to his health. She opted to deny involvement and just grin. Keep 
them wondering, she thought. Let the man squirm.

 "So, Charles, I see you're dressed for dinner." Miranda said, 
noticing his blue jeans and torn tee-shirt. "Where will you and Jan be 
dining this evening.

 "You're real cute, you know that." he smiled. "Hey, how about you 
and me getting together later. I'll get Jan home around mid-night and me 
and you can take it from there." Miranda couldn't tell if he was serious 
but she wasn't taking chances.

 "Gee, I'd love to," she said, face serious, tone sincere. "but 
there's a freight train due in tonight with five million tons of explosives
on it and I was hoping to get to the station before then and lay on the 
tracks in protest. I'm awfully sorry, Charles, maybe some other time."

 Charles didn't accept Miranda's answer. Instead he got to his feet 
and came to where she was sitting then knelt in front of her and moved his 
tongue in and out several times.

 "That's a shame, baby because you and me could make it real hot, 
you get my drift? I could really dig a compact pussy like yours, Miranda. 
Maybe you'd better reconsider before the offer is withdrawn."

 "Well, I'll let you know, Charles, but don't hold your breath." 
Miranda put her hand to his shoulder motioning him to move away then she 
went to check on Jan.

 
 
 
 * * * * *

 Oddly enough, Jan seemed more relaxed with Charles than she was 
with Marty, and when they finally left, Miranda started laughing. Jan must 
be one horny lady, she thought. Why else would she want to date a geek like
Charles.

 The living room looked smaller than usual and Miranda could feel 
the walls closing in around her. Another night alone was too much to think 
about. She tried sketching, but couldn't shake the feeling, then tried 
reading, but it only got worse. Miranda decided she had to get out.

 The paper said West Side Story was playing at the Valley Theater 
and she figured seeing it again would be a hoot. She made a call to her 
friend Karen and asked if she'd like to come along, but Karen was too much 
like Jan. Her date was due any minute and she had to get off the phone and 
finish her make-up.

 When Miranda called Susan she got the tired excuse, washing hair, 
but Miranda didn't care for her anyway. It was for the best. She tried 
several others but they either had plans or had excuses and Miranda was 
faced with the decision to go out alone or just stay in.

 She wasn't a wall flower by an stretch of the imagination, just 
preferred company at night. Hendersonville was a big town and Miranda 
didn't like the idea of walking the city streets alone. She was always 
fearful a strange man might lunge at her from a dark alley and yank her 
pocketbook from her shoulder pulling her muscle. Pain, in any form, was not
something Miranda dealt gracefully with. She was chicken when it came to 
getting flu shots and even more skittish having a blood count where the 
nurse jabbed her finger with a razor blade.

 The scheduled TV movie was, Broadway Sings, and even though she'd 
seen it at least 100 times, it was better to see it again then to risk a 
pulled muscle. Miranda checked the pantry for cocoa but Jan had used the 
last of it baking a birthday cake for Tim. She wouldn't have gone all the 
way to Vanderhorn's market but when you get a craving for a certain thing, 
nothing else will do.

 
 
 * * * * *

 Old man Vanderhorn was just closing up when she arrived. He let her
in then locked the door behind her.

 "Hello, missy, what can I get for you today?" he said. Miranda was 
appreciative he didn't turn her away. The next closest market was eight 
blocks down.

 "Thanks, Mr. Vanderhorn." she said. "I need some cocoa."

 Carl watched Miranda from his pass through window. She was so 
beautiful. Clean hair, smooth complexion. Her petite size was just right 
for Carl, at least he thought so. Carl stared at her for a long time. He 
watched her mouth when she spoke and listened intensely to her sweet 
feminine voice.

 "Baking a sweet for your sweetheart?" Jesse asked, with a teasing 
grin.

 "No, I don't have one of those. Just making some hot chocolate 
before the movie starts."

 "What are you going to watch, little lady."

 "Broadway Sings." she said.

 "I know that movie." Carl blurted, from the pass through. Miranda 
looked across the room and saw him peeking out. He looked cute bent over 
with his face taking up the entire opening.

 "You do!" she said, to Carl. "Did you like it?" Carl realized what 
he'd done and now Miranda was speaking to him. He wanted to die. He wanted 
to drop to his knees and faint never to wake again, but something in him 
responded and he answered Miranda.

 "Loved it, it's one of my favorites."

 "Mine too. It's coming on in ten minutes." she said. "Channel 
three." Miranda smiled at Carl then paid for the cocoa. Carl watched her 
every move as she left the store and his heart was pounding like a jack 
hammer hitting asphalt. He felt something for Miranda he'd never 
experienced before and it was making him nervous.

 When he looked at his cock it had swollen inside his jeans and Carl
put his hand to it feeling the bulge. He wanted to make it go away but knew
it would take more than pressing his palm to it. He read books about sex. 
He could tell you anything you needed to know about anatomy, especially the
female anatomy, but experiencing sexual arousal was new for Carl, at least 
direct sexual arousal. His only hard-ons came from looking at the Playboy 
magazines from Williard's News stand over on fifth.

 Carl put his apron back on and covered the protruding cock bulge 
when Jesse came to the back. His father was ready to close up and go home 
but Carl didn't want to take off the apron.

 "I'll stay and finish sweeping." Carl said.

 "What did you say?" Jesse made him repeat it. He thought he heard 
it but being Carl's first request to stay after hours, he wasn't sure.

 "I want to get some cleaning done before tomorrow morning, dad. 
I'll lock up before I leave."

 "Do you think you can?" Jesse asked.

 "Sure, I can lock a door." Carl said, showing his annoyance by the 
insult.

 "Fine, here's the key, but you remember to lock both, you hear. The
upper and lower, and make sure the alley door is closed tight before 
sliding the bolt." Carl convinced his father he could handle the job and 
Jesse went on home.

 Miranda got half way home before realizing Mr. Vanderhorn had given
her too much change. She gave him a five dollar bill for the cocoa and he 
gave her change for a ten. She scurried back to the store hoping to catch 
him before he left, but the place was dark.

 Miranda pressed her face to the glass and had a look inside. She 
noticed the light on in the back room and decided to knock. When Carl hear 
the tapping, he came around to the front. There she was, standing outside 
with her beautiful face against the door. Carl froze. He didn't know what 
to do.

 She spotted him through an opening between the Camel Filters 
display and Mrs. Vanderhorn's homemade cherry Danish case, and when she 
knocked again, Carl put the broom down then went to open up.

 "I'm sorry to bother you." she said, as he opened the door. "Mr. 
Vanderhorn gave me too much money."

 "Come in." Carl said. He stepped aside and let Miranda pass then 
locked the door.

 "I was hoping to catch him before he left but I guess I can leave 
it with you?" She handed Carl the extra bills then waited for his reply. 
Carl couldn't focus on anything she was saying. His mind went blank. He 
wanted to calm himself but screaming now would be impossible.

 "Will you tell Mr. Vanderhorn I returned his money?" she asked.

 "You just missed him." Carl said. "He's gone home. I told him I 
wanted to stay and sweep up before tomorrow so he gave me the keys."

 "Yes, well, if you'll just tell Mr. Vanderhorn that Miranda 
Saunderson returned his money. "She was amused by Carl's manner. He seemed 
friendly enough, but different somehow. He was soft spoken and polite and 
she liked the way he seemed nervous around her. It had been a long time 
since any man acted that way around her.

 "I'll tell him as soon as I get home." Carl said.

 "You don't have to do that." Miranda said. She didn't want him to 
make a special effort. "Just give it to him when you see him again."

 "I'll see him when I get home."

 "You'll, ah, I don't understand." Miranda smiled. He'd lost her 
somewhere along the line. Why would Mr. Vanderhorn's employee see him at 
home, she wondered.

 "I still live there." Carl said, shrugging his shoulders as if to 
apologize for the fact:

 "'wait, you're Mr. Vanderhorn's, son?" she asked with surprise. 
Carl nodded. "I had no idea. I thought you worked for him."

 "I do."

 "Well, ya, right, but you're his son." she said, flustered by the 
news. Why did the old man leave that part out the other day, she wondered. 
Mr. Vanderhorn didn't let on a bit.

 "Are you missing your movie, Miss Miranda?" Carl asked, noting the 
time. She looked at her watch then grinned.

 "Well, yes but that's okay. I wanted to get this back to Mr. 
Vanderhorn. I thought it might make his books come out wrong for the day. 
You know how it is when that happens. You can spend hours looking for it. 
Well, it was nice talking with you ... " she turned a palm waiting for him 
to fill the blank.

 "Carl." he said, and with ease.

 "Carl, good. I'll probably see you again." Miranda walked over to 
the door and waited for Carl to let her out. He slipped the key to the lock
and started to turn and Miranda interrupted his action with a question.

 "Is Broadway Sings really your favorite?" she asked, looking at his
big hazel eyes.

 "It sure is, well, one of them, I've got several."

 "Would you consider watching it with me?" Carl wasn't sure what she
meant. Did she want to come home with him and watch it or was she inviting 
him to her place. The thought of going to her place was more than he could 
stand.

 "I, uh, I." he stammered.

 "I'll tell you, Carl. I'm all alone at the house tonight and I'd 
really appreciate the company, besides, Broadway Sings is the sort of movie
you need to share with someone. I'll make you some hot chocolate." Miranda 
smiled. She was desperate for company even if it meant asking a stranger 
again. Carl felt the sweat building on his upper lip. His pulse raced with 
a furry but he managed to nod.

 "I have to call home first." he said. "I wouldn't want them to 
worry."

 "Go right ahead, Carl, I'll wait." He dialed the number then 
grinned at Miranda like a school boy getting ready to cut class. Jesse 
answered the telephone and when Carl told him where he was going, Jesse was
speechless.

 "She's invited me to watch a movie with her so I'll be home late. 
The money is in the register. I'll lock up tight." Carl said, then hung up 
the phone.

 
 
 * * * * *

 All the way to Miranda's he was quiet. He just listened as her soft
angel-like voice drifted from her lips out across the cool night air. Carl 
couldn't believe he was walking with her. She was too lovely for words, he 
thought, too beautiful to be seen with a stupid, clumsy, ox.

 
 
 * * * * *

 When Miranda told him to get comfortable and turn on the TV. Carl 
took the chair across from the sofa. He didn't want Miranda thinking him 
forward by sitting on the sofa. She might think he planned it that way just
to get her to sit next to him.

 It took less than ten minutes to make the hot chocolate and when 
she brought it in, Carl was still sitting in the chair. She put his on the 
end table on a coaster and Carl thanked her. He was intrigued with Miranda.
The swan-like grace of her movements, the pearly shine of her straight 
teeth. He wanted to touch her, just once, just her hair, and smell her 
skin.

 "I'd ask what I've missed." she said jokingly. "But I know this 
picture by heart."

 "Me too." Carl said.

 "You know, I didn't even realize you worked at the store, Carl. Why
haven't I seen you before?"

 "I stay in back most of the time." he said. "I make the meat 
platters."

 "I've had one, God, they're great, Carl." Miranda smiled at him 
with both sides of her face, and Carl could see it was genuine. He was good
about judging people by their smiles. If a person only used the muscles of 
their left side, it wasn't genuine. Miranda's face smiled a left and 
righter.

 "You liked it?" Carl asked.

 "You use such big pieces of meat on them. I just love the beef. 
It's so lean and it melts in your mouth."

 "The beef is my favorite too." Carl said. He was more relaxed with 
her than he expected. She was friendly and had a way of making you feel at 
home. Carl's legs began to lose their stiffness and he let his knees drop 
apart hitting the arm rests of the chair.

 "We have a lot in common, don't we, Carl?"

 "We do?" he asked, surprised by her statement.

 "Don't you think?"

 "I guess." he said, nervously. Carl wouldn't presume to think he 
shared the same interests with a lady as beautiful as Miranda Saunderson, 
but when she pointed them out, he agreed by nodding.

 "See, I told you." she said. "If you like monopoly, I'll just 
faint." Carl's lips felt numb with excitement. That was only his all time 
favorite board game. He'd play for hours if he could find a partner. He 
told Miranda and she laughed, letting herself fall back on the sofa 
cushion.

 "Where have you been all my life, Carl Vanderhorn?" she said. 
"Wanna play?"

 "What, now?" Carl said. "You'll miss your movie."

 "Oh to hell with the movie, Carl. I've seen it. I'd love a good 
round of monopoly if you're up to it?"

 They set the board up on the coffee table and each used a sofa 
cushion on the floor as their seat. Carl was banker and Miranda took on the
duties as Real-Estate broker. She won the roll, and right off the bat ended
up in jail.

 "Don't sweat it." Carl said. "It's just a visit." Carl rolled 
doubles and wound up four spaces past her but when Miranda mentioned him 
being out in front, he got a sad look on his face.

 "Did I say something wrong, Carl?" she asked, softly.

 "Oh, no, you couldn't."

 "Then why the long face?"

 "No reason, I guess it's just hard for me to imagine being ahead of
anyone." he said. Miranda heard the pain in his voice. What did he mean, 
she wondered. Carl could be ahead of any one. He was bright, intelligent 
and a deeper man than you'd expect to find working as a cold meat artist in
the back of a family grocery market.

 "Oh, I don't know, Carl. I can." Miranda said. "How about a 
refill?" she asked, reaching for his cup.

 "May I make it with you?" he asked. Miranda liked the way Carl 
phrased his question. Coming from anyone else, she would have questioned it
as a direct invitation to hump her box, but from Carl she knew what he 
meant. She let the corners of her mouth curl slightly then nodded. What 
Carl didn't know was she would gladly make it with him in the bedroom.

 "Are you any good?" she asked, keeping the same train of thought.

 "I don't know, I guess that would depend on how you like it."

 "How I like it?" Miranda laughed. She wasn't sure he wasn't being 
coy but decided to play it through just in case.

 "Well, wouldn't it?" he said.

 "'Well, let's see." she said. "What if I told you I liked it hot?"

 "I can do that." Carl said.

 "And if I told you I liked it smooth?"

 "Yep, I could do that too." he said, proudly. Miranda couldn't be 
sure Carl wasn't playing with her head. She had to find out. She thought 
hard on her next question then asked.

 "Okay, wise guy, what if I wanted it black?" she stated firmly 
knowing that would reveal Carl's true state of mind.

 "Well, I'd say that's the only thing I'm not in control of, but 
you'd have your wish just the same."

 "Huh?" she questioned. "What do you mean?"

 "Cocoa is already black, there's nothing I can do to change the 
color." he said, with perfect innocence.

 "You know something, Carl Vanderhorn. I like you."

 "Really?" he asked. Carl's eyes lit up like golden beacons and the 
tiny angel dusted flecks reflected a glimmer that made him extremely 
desirable.

 Miranda looked at him closely. How could I have missed him all this
time, she thought. She looked into Carl's shiny eyes then moved closer to 
him hoping he might take the gesture seriously and move toward her, but 
Carl just froze. He wasn't able to move a muscle. Her closeness was making 
his heart pound and when his heart pounded, his blood rushed, and when 
Carl's blood rushed, it filled his cock to capacity and before he could 
control himself, his pants bulged like rising bread dough in a warm covered
bowl.

 Miranda parted and Wet her lips making a move to kiss Carl's and he
had no choice but to let her. Not that he would have pulled away had he 
been able, but to be kissed by the most gorgeous lady your eyes have ever 
witnessed and not be able to respond, well, that was something else again.

 She closed her eyes and let her soft rosy lips brush to him hoping 
for a sign he approved, but Carl couldn't handle it. He was dumbfounded by 
the gesture and it was all he could do to keep standing.

 "Is everything alright?" she whispered, backing off just enough to 
speak.

 "Yes."

 "Am I making you angry?" she whispered again, hoping he'd be 
truthful.

 "No, you could never make me angry." Carl's breathing was labored. 
Having her soft breath tickle his ear was heaven. "Nervous." he said. 
"You're making me nervous."

 Miranda gazed into his eyes and with one smooth motion, moved her 
mouth to his. She let the fullness of her lips envelope his and when Carl 
felt the warmth of her body pressing to his, he lost control.


Chapter Four

 Carl's arms wrapped around Miranda tightly and he awkwardly lunged 
to her, forcing her off balance, but she didn't fall. Miranda held her 
ground trying to break his hold.

 "Carl, wait." she said, squirming in his locked arms. "Slow down, 
wait." she said again, but he was out of control. The passion burning in 
his body could light a thousand fires and letting her go would be like 
giving up his air supply.

 "Stop!" she shouted, and Carl did. He realized his actions and put 
his hands to his side then lowered his head.

 "Carl, please, just listen." Miranda tried soothing him. It was 
obvious to her he meant no harm. His sad face and boy like mannerisms 
captivated Miranda's heart.

 "Come on, Carl, let's go in the living room and sit down." Miranda 
took his hand leading him out of the kitchen and when they got to the other
room, Carl started for the front door.

 "Where are you going?"

 "I should leave now, Miranda, please, just let me go home."

 "I'd rather you stayed, Carl." Miranda said sweetly, and he looked 
at her to make sure the request was genuine.

 "Please, come sit with me. We'll talk. Everything is okay, Carl, 
please." He wasn't sure why Miranda wasn't angry but welcomed the chance to
smooth things over. Leaving wouldn't smooth anything but his embarrassment.
Carl sat in the chair across from the sofa but when Miranda took her seat 
she motioned for him to join her.

 "Are you sure you want me that close to you?" he asked.

 "Yes, I'm sure. Come on, sit with me, please." Carl did what he was
told. Miranda took his hand then tenderly patted it. "Look, we just need to
slow down, that's all, Carl. I'm not upset with you. If you really want to 
know, I'm flattered."

 "Flattered?" Carl asked. How in the world could she feel that way 
after what he'd done, he wondered?

 "Yes," Miranda giggled. "It isn't every day a man loses control 
over me, Carl." He immediately stood up and started to leave again but 
Miranda stopped him. "Why do you want to go?" she asked. "Because I did 
lose control, Miranda. I did exactly that. You said it isn't every day a 
man loses control over you, well it isn't every day this man loses it. I've
never done this, Miranda, you have to believe me. This has never happened 
before."

 Miranda assumed he meant his loss of control. She had no idea he 
meant the experience itself. She assumed at his age he'd been with a woman 
before.

 "All the more reason why I'm flattered then, isn't it? Carl, I 
meant what I said about liking you. I still do. We just need to slow down, 
that's all. Why are, you so nervous around me?" Miranda asked. She hoped it
would be the right starting place.

 "I don't know" Carl said, blushing. How could he tell her the 
truth. How could he say, because your beauty makes me weak and the sight of
you steals my heart.

 "But, you must know, Carl, think about it."

 He got up from the sofa and paced the room.

 Miranda watched him move up one end of the living room then down 
again. Her question hit hard and Carl wasn't able to answer. He wanted to 
die. He wanted to drop to his knees and faint, never to get up again.

 Suddenly, he bolted for the front door. Miranda couldn't stop him 
this time. He was halfway down the walk by the time she got to the door. 
Carl ran all the way home and Miranda felt terrible about it.

 Jan opened the shop then made coffee. The girls needed a full pot 
to get through the morning. It was sale day at the boutique and Miranda's 
designs were featured.

 Her line of peach satin teddy's designed last summer were on 
special and her newest creation, a flame red knit body stocking, was the 
special of the day. Inner You Boutique catered to the discriminating woman,
which was a fancy way of saying the broads with bucks. The garments were 
first class and extremely expensive. Jan and Miranda had many male 
customers who bought regularly for their wives and Jan's flirtatious 
salesmanship was a cinch for that kind of customer. Miranda had known Jan 
to model the items for male customers giving them the fantasy that their 
wives would look as sexy, but few women could look as sexy as Jan Feldon. 
She was hot.

 Miranda worked on the books until ten and when the first customers 
came in, she helped Jan on the sales floor. Miranda didn't have the same 
polish in dealing with the public but she did manage to make a few sales. 
She was thankful her livelihood didn't rely on it however, she'd starve. 
After things died down, Miranda went back to her office and left Jan to 
handle the last male client.

 "I'll be happy to model it for you." Jan said. His eyes lit up at 
the mere notion and when she returned wearing the skimpy black item, he had
to sit down.

 "You'll notice the French Cut over the thigh." Jan said, turning 
her hip toward the man then running her perfectly manicured fingers over 
her flesh.

 "Any woman would love this for those late evening get together's."

 "It's absolutely spectacular." the man said gawking. His mind was 
made up to purchase but he hesitated in telling her. Just a minute longer, 
he thought. It wasn't every day a man could get live sexy models while 
selecting their wives undergarments and Paul wanted this moment to last.

 "Please, take your time, Mr. Hamilton. Lingerie can't be rushed." 
Jan whispered when she spoke with men. The sounds slipped from her mouth 
like silk thread through satin. She enjoyed turning them on then watching 
them fight to control their bodies. It was a boost to her ego and a real 
fun thing to see. Paul was struggling with his body. His cock was tingling 
as Jan paraded up and back in front of his eyes. He could see through the 
lace of the garment to her pink nipples and the natural light hair on her 
luscious pussy made his mouth water.

 "I'll take it." Paul said, mesmerized by Jan's appeal.

 "Would you like to see something else?" she asked. Paul wondered if
Jan might consider modeling the string bikini style outfit hanging by the 
back mirror and when he asked, she told him she would, but only in private.

 Miranda came out for coffee just as Jan finished changing. She 
watched her partner lingering in the corner with Paul and after several 
girlish giggles, he took his purchase and left.

 All morning Miranda thought about Carl and how he'd run out on her.
She worried about him. It wasn't unusual for Miranda to have bad luck with 
a date but this wasn't bad luck, it was something different. Carl was 
different. He was real and kind, gentle yet scared. If she only had another
chance to talk with him maybe they could iron out the problem.

 Jan seemed happy in the store that morning. She pranced about the 
place making new window displays and folding the stock. They sold a few 
items but not many. Miranda knew they needed more money if the business was
to keep afloat. It seemed the same every month. Their sales would be 
dragging then Jan would come in at the last minute with a report of sales 
she'd made and forgot to write down. Miranda didn't question the 
transaction, after all, money was money, but she wondered who Jan was 
making all the ghost sales to.

 "Miranda." Jan shouted. "Are you in the back?"

 "I'm in my office." Miranda answered.

 "Listen, I've got something to take care of this afternoon so I 
thought I'd get started. Will you be here for the rest of the day?"

 "I guess."

 "Good, well, I'm gonna get going. Just lock up when you leave, I 
won't be back."

 "Where are you going?" Miranda asked. She didn't think it was 
prying. They always told one another where they'd be in case of emergency.

 "Just out, okay." Jan smiled. It was obvious to Miranda that Jan 
didn't want to say.

 "Fine, I'll take care of the shop, have a good time."

 After Jan left, Miranda looked over the books again. She noticed a 
strange entry under sales, one which wasn't there that morning. Jan had 
written it in. It was another ghost sales entry and Miranda shook her head.
Either Jan was too stupid to write the sales in as they occurred or she was
getting a last minute purchase from someone every month which always pulled
them through to the black.

 A few hours past and Miranda was bored. The store was quiet, no 
customers since morning, and she was getting a headache. She thought about 
stopping in at the Vanderhorn's store to see Carl but figured it might be 
better to let him make the first move. After milling around with nothing to
do, Miranda decided to just go home.

 
 
 * * * * *

 "That's the one, Jan." Paul said, sitting on the bed. "I want you 
to wear it." Jan modeled the tight string bikini Paul liked one more time 
making him squirm with anticipation then she came to him putting her 
breasts to his face. Paul pulled her close and licked the fleshy mounds 
then slowly slipped the shoulder straps of her underwear down exposing her 
tits completely.

 "And you're certain she won't come home?" Paul asked.

 "Yes, will you stop worrying, Paul. Miranda is hard at work. She 
told me she'd be there for the rest of the day."

 "If I get caught with you, Jan, it'll end my marriage. I can't let 
that happen, at least not yet."

 "You're getting to be a bore, Paul, you know that." Jan said, 
pressing her breasts to his lips. That would shut him up, she figured. Paul
slipped her bikini off the rest of the way then undressed himself. He was 
eager for an afternoon of fucking and Jan was the hole he planned to ream.

 His cock shot up like a rocket on the fourth of July when he saw 
her pussy hairs. Paul lived with a woman who's body had been ruined by too 
much pasta and seeing this slender, sexy frame in front of him now was like
being in his favorite candy store. He wanted it all.

 Jan got on the bed and Paul followed. He slid up between her legs 
and pressed the tip of his dick to her slit. She purred like a well fed 
kitten when he slipped it inside. The wetness of her feminine cunt 
swallowed Paul's cock all the way to the base.

 "Oh, God, Jan, this is wonderful." he moaned.

 "You like it?" Jan smiled. As if she didn't know. All the men she 
flicked liked it, and at two hundred a pop she had to make sure of that. 
Jan moved her agile hips up and down on Paul's penetrating meat. She 
squeezed her pussy muscles clamping down on the shaft then milking it hard.
Paul gasped a couple of times when she slammed her pelvis to his but it was
a gasp of excitement, not pain.

 "I want to eat you." Paul moaned.

 "I'm all yours, do whatever you like." Jan let the male customers 
go their own way for the full half hour. She figured if they paid that much
money for her she'd give them free rein. Paul slinked down and put his 
tongue to her slit then lapped the length of it, from ass to clit. His wife
never allowed him to eat pussy. Most wives lost their husbands that way. If
a man couldn't get his taste at home he was bound and determined to get it 
some place else. One thing for certain, he would get it.

 Paul licked and tongue fucked Jan's juicy cunt until he couldn't 
stand the excitement any longer. He had to ram his meat back into her pussy
and fuck until he exploded. She let him slip up behind her ass and stick it
in from that angle and when he did his cock lasted three good humps before 
spitting the wad.

 She moved over letting the man lay flat to rest. Jan usually made 
her customers leave after their first climax but Paul, she liked 
personally. She wanted him to work her over before he left.

 Jan went to her closet and got a box of rubber toys she often 
played with when she was alone, and when Paul saw them his eyes bugged out.

 "What is that?" he asked, seeing the thick rubber cock-like dildo.

 "This is what I want you to give me." Jan smiled. She handed Paul 
the contraption then mounted him, straddling his chest.

 "You just lay there Paul, and let this big fucker do the work." Jan
spread her legs putting one beside Paul's head and the other by his waist. 
Her juicy slit was oozing what was left of his jism and Paul watched it 
trickle out of her cunt and dribble onto his chest. He lined up the rubber 
cock then slowly let the knob pass inside. Jan squirmed onto it then slowly
took in up: One inch at a time she lowered her body onto it until the huge 
rubber dong disappeared up her hole.

 Paul loved watching the way her cunt muscles wrapped around the 
thing. It was the first time he'd seen a pussy in action. His wife never 
allowed him to look at her and Paul was getting an education.

 "Fuck me with it, Paul. Fuck me hard." Jan said, moving up and down
to aid his efforts. Paul did what she asked, slamming the dong deep, then 
yanking it out again. He reamed her pretty slit until she wailed for more 
then after his cock had rested he made her .bend over on her hands and 
knees while he rammed her pussy with the dong and tongue licked her ass 
opening.

 Jan went wild for Paul. She gave him the best act in her bag and by
the time he managed to bring her off, Paul was ready to hump again. He 
slipped his cock inside her asshole and started fucking and just when he 
was in the middle of the most erotic feeling of his life, Miranda came 
home.

 They didn't hear her come in. Miranda was always quiet as a mouse. 
She put her things on the kitchen table then stopped for a minute to 
listen. Strange sounds were coming from the back of the house and she 
rushed to see what they were.

 Miranda swung open the door to her bedroom and there was Paul and 
Jan entangled in sexual bliss. She froze for a second, knowing they hadn't 
seen her yet and she watched Paul flicking Jan's asshole with all his 
might.

 Miranda pictured herself in that position with Carl Vanderhorn. She
wanted his cock up her ass, as well as every where else. If only he hadn't 
run out that way, she thought, I'd already have had him.

 When Paul's cock reached the boiling point he couldn't stop fucking
Jan, and even after seeing Miranda at the doorway, he had to continue. It 
was the sort of feeling he couldn't turn off, an over the edge sort of lust
that had to be let out, but right after his dick spewed it's cream, he 
yanked out the penetrating cockmeat and covered himself with the bed sheet.

 "Miranda!" Jan shouted. "What are you doing here?"

 "I came home early. Excuse me, I didn't mean to interrupt." Miranda
left the bedroom somewhat in shock. It was the man from the store, she 
remembered, the married man buying lingerie for his wife. Miranda was 
beginning to see her room mate in a different light. She was beginning to 
understand where the money came from for those monthly ghost sales. Jan 
followed Miranda to the kitchen and tried to explain.

 "Listen, you've got to understand, Miranda. This is business." she 
said, wrapping her robe around her cum soaked body.

 "Business?"

 "Yes, damnit, business. I can't go into it now but you've got to 
try and understand."

 "I think I understand perfectly, Jan. The ghost sales?" Miranda 
asked.

 "We aren't making enough from the lingerie sales, Miranda, we 
haven't been for a long time. I didn't want the business to fold, I thought
you knew that."

 "I knew sales were down and we've been struggling but I had no idea
where the ghost sales came from nor the money. You should have said 
something. We could have taken a bank loan."

 "Oh, please ... " Jan laughed. "Why should we borrow money when we 
can make it like this. Do you have any idea how easy it is to make this 
kind of dough. Men will pay a fortune for a piece, Miranda. The single ones
are so fucking tired of playing the cunt game they'll gladly drop a wad to 
unload, and the married men, great day, those poor bastards live with women
who won't even suck them off. I pick up anywhere from eight hundred to 
fifteen hundred a day, Miranda, a fucking day, girl, are you listening to 
me?"

 "Hey, I'm not angry. It's your life, Jan. Fine, if you're happy 
flicking, then I'm happy for you." Miranda said. Jan started laughing. She 
couldn't believe it, Miranda said the word.

 "Did you hear yourself just now, Miranda? You said the F-word."

 "What, fuck?" Miranda asked. "Fuck, fuck, fuck. Hey, I know more 
that that one." she continued. "Cock, cock, cock. How about, blow job, blow
job, blow job, or maybe you'd be happy to hear me say cunt, pussy, dick, 
hard-on, or ass flick. What's the big deal, Jan, you think I don't know 
those words. You think I don't know what they are or mean?" Miranda was 
annoyed. She was tired of Jan treating her like a sheltered wall flower.

 "The difference between you and me is, I know them and choose not 
to use them, that's all."

 "Why are you so angry, Miranda?" Jan asked, with confusion.

 "I'm not angry." she yelled, but the truth was she was jealous. Jan
always got the best and Miranda got the books. She wanted to feel a thick 
cock slamming against her pelvis bone too. She wanted Carl's.

 "Do you want me to ask Paul if he'd do it with you?" Jan asked, 
thinking that might calm her down.

 "Oh, please, Jan, for God's sake. I'm tired of groveling for your 
left-overs."

 "Excuse me ladies." Paul said, standing by the bedroom door fully 
dressed. "I'll be leaving now."

 "Paul, wait." Jan said. "Don't go. We have the rest of the 
afternoon. Miranda was just leaving, and besides, I'm not finished with 
you. Miranda, you were just leaving, right?" Jan said, making a face at 
her. Miranda looked at Jan with contempt then said,"

 "Sure, I'm on my way. You two have a nice afternoon. I won't be 
back until mid-night. Stay as long as you like, Paul." She grabbed her 
pocketbook then stormed out.

 Jan took Paul's arm and led him back to the bedroom. She wasn't the
least bit concerned over Miranda's temper. Jan knew she'd calm down after a
movie and be back to her sweet self in no time.

 "I don't know, Jan, maybe I should leave?" Paul said.

 "Don't be silly. You don't have to go yet."

 "But, this is Miranda's house. I can't just put her out that way."

 "First of all, you didn't put her out, I did, and secondly, she's 
already gone. Stop worrying over Miranda, will you. It's me you need to 
worry over."

 "Do you think she recognized me?"

 "She remembered seeing you in the store, yes."

 "Oh, God." Paul said, sitting on the bed and covering his face.

 "Paul, Miranda doesn't know you from Adam. You're just a customer 
who came in to buy lingerie, that's all. What do you think, she'll run out 
and spend the evening trying to locate your wife?"

 Paul wouldn't budge. He sat on the bed like a wounded dog trying to
get the courage to walk.

 "Come on, Paul, snap out of it." Jan knelt in front of him then 
began unzipping his pants.

 "What are you doing?" he asked.

 "How about a blow job, Paul?" Jan cooed. "When was the last time 
Sharon gave you a good suck?"

 "Sharon never sucks me, you know that." Paul said, letting Jan 
continue the undressing.

 "Exactly, Paul, that's what I mean. Let me take care of you. I'll 
make you feel so good you won't ever want to go home again." She placed her
warm lips around Paul's cock head and gently sucked him up and when the man
felt his blood rushing, he lay back letting Jan take what she wanted.

 "That's a good boy." Jan whispered. "You just let Jan take good 
care of you. I'll make all your hurts disappear."



Chapter Five

 "You haven't said three words to me all day, dad, why?" Carl asked.

 "You didn't want to hear what I had to say last night when you 
called, why listen to me now?"

 "Last night there wasn't anything you could have said to change my 
mind, dad."

 "So, you hang up the phone on me?" Jesse shouted.

 "I was finished talking, that's all."

 "Ya, well, so am I!" Jesse stormed into the kitchen for a piece of 
Alice's pie and Carl followed close behind. Carl wanted to tell his father 
about Miranda. He wanted to ask about love and get his father's advise, but
Jesse wouldn't have a thing to do with it. He refused his son all the time 
and this would be no exception.

 "Please, dad, won't you just listen to me?" Carl begged. He wanted 
a normal relationship with Jesse. He watched television, he saw what a 
father son relationship was supposed to be like. It hurt him deeply 
whenever Jesse ignored him this way, but Carl was determined to make his 
dad listen.

 "Miranda asked me to watch a movie, that's all. I like her, dad, I 
have for a long time."

 "What long time, you just met her?"

 "Yes, but she's been coming into the store for a long time. I've 
watched her, dad. I've seen her come in for milk and eggs a lot."

 "What are you telling me, that you spy on our good customer's?" 
Jesse ranted. "Alice, did you hear that, this boy spies on our customer's. 
The next thing you know he'll be kidnapping them and raping them."

 "Jesse!" Alice shouted. She was appalled by her husband's 
implication.

 "Carl would never do any such thing, and you know it."

 "Do we, Alice? Do we know what this derelict is capable of, 
really."

 "Dad, please stop this." Carl begged. He couldn't stand it any 
longer. His father came up with new names to call him almost on a daily 
basis, and they cut to the bone.

 "I'm not a derelict, dad. I'm me, Carl. I don't hurt people and I 
don't rape them." Jesse turned around and started out of the kitchen but 
Carl blocked his passage. He wasn't letting Jesse run out on him any more. 
They were going to discuss this and clear the air.

 "Get out of my way, you sorry derelict." Jesse yelled.

 "No, I want you to talk to me, dad."

 "Jesse, hear the boy out." Alice pleaded.

 "What's to hear? I don't want to know what he did to that sweet 
little girl. She was one of our best customer's and now what? We'll be 
lucky if we ever see her again. You had no right to go over there, Carl. 
You should have said no."

 "Dad, I love Miranda Saunderson." Carl said. His mother's face went
blank when the words slipped out of her son's lips. He loved a woman, she 
thought, my dear Lord, my son loves a woman. Visions of tiny grandchildren 
came to her mind and suddenly she was prepared to fight Jesse no matter 
what it took.

 "Listen to the boy, Jesse. He loves this girl." she said.

 "Love, what is that? This boy has no concept of love. Look at him."
Jesse barked, pointing to Carl. "He's an overgrown idiot, a clumsy, stupid 
fool. He'll never be able to support a wife, what? Don't talk to me about 
love. This boy loves only himself, that was evident when he hung up the 
phone on me last night."

 "Dad, I didn't hang up on you, I was simply finished talking. Ma, 
make him listen to me." Carl pleaded. Why was Jesse so upset, he wondered. 
Was it because he hung up without giving him the chance to object? Carl 
knew his father would object. He always raised objection whenever Carl 
wanted to branch out, but Jesse objected just as strongly when he didn't. 
What was the man's problem?

 no more talk." Jesse shouted. "I'm done with the talking. You want 
to pretend you're normal fine, but don't expect me to play this stupid 
game."

 "What's the matter with you, Jesse?" Alice shouted. "This boy is 
more normal than half the youth in this stinking city. He don't use drugs, 
he don't drink, he don't smoke nothing, what do you think is normal? Carl 
is a good boy. He's got a learning problem, so what. You think he's not 
normal because his letters get jumbled up in his head, aaaah!" Alice threw 
up her hands.

 "I drink." Carl said. His words brought stillness to the room and 
Jesse took it upon himself to break it.

 "Great, now he's a drunk, don't stick up for him no more, Alice, 
you don't know this boy. You don't know what he's capable of doing."

 "I'm not a drunk, dad." Carl said, calmly. "I just said I drink. I 
had a glass of wine last night over at Miranda's."

 "Wonderful!" Jesse shouted. "So you think you're in love with a 
girl who's got a drinking problem, that's just great. Fine, you keep seeing
that slut and soon she'll have you swilling the stuff like water."

 "Miranda is no slut, dad!" Carl took offense to his father's slur. 
He didn't mind Jesse calling him names but he wouldn't allow him to bad 
mouth his girl. Miranda was a sweet lady and he wouldn't stand idly by and 
listen to is father run her down.

 "How the hell would you know?" Jesse shouted. "You don't even know 
what a slut is."

 "Yes, I do." Carl said.

 "Oh, my God." Alice sighed, taking a seat at the table.

 "A slut is a woman who lets men fuck her all the time." Carl 
blurted.

 "Mama-mia!" Alice wailed.

 "What kind of talk is that in front of your mother? Have you gone 
mad? Tell her you're sorry, go on, tell her. You don't say that filth in my
house, you understand me?"

 "You say it all the time, dad." Carl stated. He was confused by his
father's reaction to the word.

 He'd heard Jesse using it with some of the female customer's in the
store.

 "I never use such language!" Jesse denied.

 "Holy Mary, mother of God." Alice moaned.

 "Shut the hell up with that, Alice, for God's sake, we don't need 
to hear that on top of everything else."

 "Don't you yell at me, you sorry old man!" she snapped.

 "So you finally admit it then." Jesse quipped. "Old man!"

 "I know my son, that's what I admit, and my Carl don't make up 
stories. If he heard you say that word, then you said it. My Carl don't 
lie." Alice banged her fist on the kitchen table and gave Jesse a stare 
that would shatter glass. She defied her husband, and for the first time 
stood up for her son fighting for Jesse to recognize his manhood.

 "Carl is a full grown man, Jesse. He's not stupid like you say. 
He's bright and kind and intelligent. What, you think he needs to stay 
around here and work in the back? My Carl can go anywhere. He can get a job
anywhere and he can fall in love with a woman, he can drink if he likes, he
can even make babies if he wants to. You don't tell him he can't no more, 
Jesse, no more. My Carl is a man, you speak to him like a man!" Alice's 
voice got lower as she spoke. It was a winding down after saying all the 
things she wanted to say but never had the courage. Jesse was stunned at 
his wife's behavior. Alice yelled at him before but she never defied him. 
She never defended Carl's manhood, and Jesse was confused.

 "You don't know what you say, Alice. This boy is not full grown up 
here." Jesse said, pointing to his head. "He don't understand about certain
things. Love? What does he know from love?"

 "I know it's when you care more about the other person than you do 
yourself." Carl said.

 "See there!" Alice snapped. "He knows plenty."

 "Shut up, boy. You don't know shit about life. This Miranda, she 
takes you home, she gives you wine? Then what, huh? Did she make you take 
your pants down, Carl. Did she make you touch her or did she touch you?"

 "Mama-mia, I don't believe this." Alice sighed again.

 "If you're asking if we made love, the answer is no. She kissed me,
that's all."

 "Kissed you, what, on the dick she kissed you, Carl?"

 "For God's sake, Jesse, stop this talk." Alice shouted.

 "No, dad, the lips." Carl yelled. "She just kissed me on the lips."

 "And you let this slut violate you?" Jesse screamed.

 "Miranda is no slut, dad, stop calling her that. She is a lovely 
lady with a kindness about her I've never seen in anyone I've ever known."

 "From who do you know, Carl?" Jesse demanded. "You don't know 
anybody else. You keep cooped up in the store all day and you stay in your 
room all night, doing God knows what in there, so who do you know?"

 "I only meant she's a lovely lady. Kind and gentle."

 "And she drinks and she forces you to kiss her mouth!" Jesse 
screamed.

 "She didn't force me, dad, I let her do it. I only wish I could 
have kissed her back."

 "What, she have you tied up, you couldn't kiss her, what?" Jesse 
wouldn't stop shouting. He overreacted in a way more unlike anything Alice 
or Carl had ever seen. The veins in his neck bulged like ridges and the 
purple blood in them made him look as if he might explode any minute. His 
face was deep red, and his mouth splattered saliva with every yell. Carl 
couldn't understand Jesse's reaction, and neither could Alice.

 "No Dad, I was too nervous to kiss her. She's so beautiful." Carl 
said, softly.

 "Leave the boy alone, Jesse, can't you see he's upset now. You have
no right to treat him this way." Alice insisted. "He's your son, for God's 
sake, not some reject you found pilfering through your garbage can. Carl is
in love, Jesse, can't you be happy for the boy?"

 "Ma, please, I'm not a boy." Carl said, angrily. "I'm a man, okay. 
A full grown man. I have feeling and dreams, I understand about things like
work and love. There is nothing abnormal about me so please, stop calling 
me a boy, and stop treating me as if I were retarded. I get my letters 
mixed up, so what. I can read a little, I can read numbers just fine. I'm 
not a mental case, so please stop treating me like one!" Carl shook his 
head in frustration then sat down hard on a kitchen chair.

 Fine!" Jesse hollered. "You want to be a man, you want to fuck some
pussy, fine, then you get yourself another girl besides this Miranda 
person."

 "Mother of God." Alice shouted. She cringed at Jesse's choice of 
words. Never before had she heard such filth from his lips. She didn't know
he knew such language.

 "Don't fuck my customer's, Carl. You want cunt, you get it from 
someone else, or better yet you go buy it. I won't have you humping my 
customer's, you hear me."

 "For God's sake, dad, stop this, will you. I'm not fucking 
Miranda."

 "Carl!" Alice screamed. "Don't say those things!"

 "But, I'm not, ma. We kissed, that's all. I'm not interested in 
Miranda for sex."

 "So now you admit it." Jesse shouted. "We kissed, you say. So, you 
did kiss this cock teasing slut."

 "I swear to God, if you call her that one more time, I'll ... I'll 
" Carl stammered. He was going to threaten Jesse's life, but that was his 
own father. He couldn't bring himself to say the words and in his 
frustration slammed his fist to the kitchen table putting a deep split in 
the wood. Alice jumped three feet in the air when Carl's fist hit the wood.
It scared her half to death, but Jesse, he just bitched about the damage.

 "You call yourself a man, huh. A man don't go around breaking 
things like this, you sorry cunt fucker!"

 "God, Jesse. stop with this talk." Alice begged.

 "Shut up, you!" Jesse told him wife. "You just keep your mouth 
quiet!"

 "Don't yell at my mother." Carl said, calmly. He was angrier than 
he'd ever been and it had a calming effect on him. His emotions had past 
the violent stage and as they slipped beyond rage to a peaceful self 
assurance, Jesse shut up. He could see the anger in Carl's eyes. The fierce
determination that demanded Jesse stop his yelling, and Jesse kept still 
hoping Carl would let him sit at the table and talk.

 "Okay," Jesse said. "We'll talk." he slowly moved to a chair and 
sat down. Carl took his seat too and Alice just watched the both of them 
staring at each other. She had never seen her husband back down from Carl, 
but then, she'd never seen Carl defend himself this way.

 "So, what do you want me to say?" Jesse asked.

 "I want you to listen." Carl said, still staring Jesse down. "For 
the first time, I'd like you to just sit there with your mouth closed and 
listen to what I have to say." Jesse gave a loud huffing sound from air 
being forced out his nostrils, but Carl gave him that and continued.

 "For a long time now, you have put me down. I understand your fears
about me, dad. I do. I know you think I'm not right up here, but you're 
wrong."

 Alice listened to her son speak. He was perfectly articulate and 
sensibly calm. It was the first time she'd ever seen him so confident, and 
it felt good.

 "I have a problem reading some letters, I know that, but I've been 
working on that. I've read the books in the library and I think I've made 
great progress." Carl said.

 "What are you talking, you've read the books in the library" Jesse 
laughed. "Nobody reads a library full of books."

 "Well, I have, and I'm learning all the time." Carl went on. "I may
not seem like a man to you, dad, but I'm a man. I understand the 
responsibilities of being an adult and I want to have them more than 
anything in this world. I want to find another job, not one connected with 
the family store, and I want to fall in love and have a family of my own. I
want to make love to a woman."

 "Oh, God help me." Alice wailed.

 "And, I want to take care of her for the rest of her life. I want 
to marry Miranda Saunderson, dad, and I think she wants me."

 "What makes you think this Miranda wants you?" Jesse asked, 
remaining calm.

 "She invited me to her place last night and she kissed me." Carl 
said.

 "What, so now you think you'll ask her to marry?" Jesse laughed.

 "Not right now, no, but soon." Carl said.

 "Come on ... Alice, help me out here. Tell this boy the truth. 
Don't let him hurt himself this way."

 "Carl." his mother said. "Do you think Miranda feels the same about
you as you feel about her?" she asked.

 "Jesus Christ, Alice, that's not what I meant." Jesse's voice 
started to raise. "Tell the boy it don't mean nothing when a woman asks him
to a movie. Tell him woman kiss all the time and it means nothing."

 "Miranda wouldn't have kissed me if she didn't like me, and 
besides, she told me she did, twice."

 "Okay, so she likes you, Carl. That's not the same as she wants to 
marry. Alice, please, say something to this boy."

 "I'm not a boy!" Carl snapped.

 "Okay, okay, man then. Carl, Miranda is a nice lady right?" Jesse 
asked. Carl nodded "She's pretty, she's a business woman, right?" Carl 
agreed. "Okay fine, what the hell would a pretty, bright, desirable 
business woman want with you?"

 "Don't start again, Jesse." Alice said.

 "What, I'm speaking the truth." Jesse yelled. "He's a cold meat 
platter maker in the back of his father's store, for God's sake, think, 
Alice. Why would this girl want him when she could have a lawyer, a doctor 
maybe?"

 "She likes me, dad, she said so."

 "So, she likes you, big deal. Carl, you gotta understand about 
women. They say they like you just to get something from you, that's all."

 "Don't tell the boy that." Alice snapped.

 "I'm a man, damnit!"

 "Man, schman, what's the difference? Son, women just want money 
from men or sex, that's all. This Miranda just wants something from you."

 "I don't have any money." Carl said.

 "Right, now we're getting some place, for Christ sake, you stupid, 
she wants your dick, just like I tried to tell you before. The little cock 
fucking slut wants my Carl's dick, Alice!" Jesse pushed away from the table
then stood up. He was ranting again and Carl joined in.

 "Don't say that about her, I'm warning you!" he yelled. "Miranda 
isn't a slut!"

 "Please stop this." Alice begged, but it was too late. The two men 
were screaming at each other again.

 Alice wouldn't listen to it. She ran out of the kitchen to the 
living room. There was nothing more she could do. Jesse wouldn't give in 
and she feared Carl wouldn't either. It would have to end the way it ended,
and Alice knew it. As she ran toward the stairs, the front doorbell rang. 
Alice didn't want to answer it but when she saw Miranda through the lace 
door curtain opened the door.

 "This is a bad time for you to come here." Alice said. "Carl can't 
come out."

 "Is he alright?" Miranda asked. She could hear the yelling from the
kitchen and became concerned. "Is everything alright, Mrs. Vanderhorn?" she
asked.

 "Fine, just fine, now go away. I'll tell Carl you were here." Alice
started to close the door but before she could Carl came running into the 
living room. He was trying to get away from Jesse. When he saw Miranda at 
the door, his heart skipped a beat. Seeing her again was just the strength 
he needed. He smiled at her, then went to her.

 Jesse followed his son into the living room. He was winning the 
argument before Carl ran out and wasn't about to let him get away. Jesse 
saw Miranda at the door and laughed. He figured she was just the right 
person to pay a visit.

 "So, the little lady has come to see, Carl." he said. "Come in, 
come in. Get out of the way and let Miss Miranda inside, Alice." Miranda 
stepped into the house and Alice closed the door. The room was silent. Carl
didn't speak; neither did Alice, and Jesse was too busy gloating to talk. 
Miranda didn't know what they were arguing about but she could sense it was
a bad time.

 "Perhaps I could come back later?" she said.

 "Don't be stupid, missy, come in. We were just talking about you." 
Jesse laughed.

 "Come on, Miranda. We'll go see a movie." Carl said. He wanted her 
out of there before Jesse said something stupid, but before the door knob 
turned, his father had let it come out.

 "We were discussing why a girl like you would want a boy like our 
Carl?" Jesse said. "He don't have money, you know that, missy. Carl hasn't 
got a thing you might want, unless of course, you wanted cock. Carl has 
lots of cock."

 "Jesse!" Alice screamed.

 "Never mind, Alice, she should know what the boy has to offer. That
is what you're after, isn't it, Miranda?"

 "I'll come back another time, Carl." Miranda said scared half out 
of her wits. She didn't know what to say to Mr. Vanderhorn. Why was he 
talking to her that way, she wondered.

 "Maybe you can call me." she said to Carl. Jesse ran over and 
slammed the front door forcing Miranda aside. He wasn't letting her off 
that easily.

 "Nobody goes nowhere." Jesse yelled. Alice felt faint. Her knees 
became so weak she had to sit on the steps.

 "We just want to know why you want our son, that's all. It's a 
simple question. We want you to tell him yourself that the only reason you 
told him you liked him was to get in his pants. Tell him, Miranda, go on. 
Let the boy hear it from you so he'll know the truth." Miranda wasn't going
to answer Mr. Vanderhorn's lewd remark but if she didn't, Carl might thing 
it was the truth.

 "I told Carl I like him because he's a gentle, sweet, tender man 
with a bright head on his shoulders and yes, I'd like to make love with him
sometime, but that isn't why I said it."

 "You want to make love with me?" Carl smiled, feeling his heart 
soar.

 "Yes, Carl, I would. I really would."



Chapter Six

 Carl grabbed Miranda's hand and they ran out of Jesse's house, down
the sidewalk, to the corner. He felt free for the first time in his life, 
and happier than he'd ever experienced. Miranda kept up with him, but it 
wasn't easy. Carl leaped along the sidewalk pulling her every step of the 
way.

 "Slow down, Carl." she laughed.

 "You have to say that to me all the time, don't you?" he smiled. 
Hearing Miranda say she wanted to make love with him made him feel like a 
man for the first time in his life and nothing anyone could say could ever 
take that away.

 Carl slowed down and let Miranda catch her breath. She bent over 
taking a rest and Carl paced back and forth over the sidewalk.

 "Let me take you out to dinner." Carl said.

 "Okay, where?"

 "Anywhere you want to go." he said, Carl didn't care. What ever 
Miranda wanted was fine with him.

 "But I thought you didn't have money, Carl?" Miranda asked. She 
heard Jesse say Carl was broke. How much could he have working in a grocery
store all day?

 "I have plenty of money, Miranda, see." Carl took out his wallet 
and showed her a wad big enough to choke a horse. She couldn't imagine 
where he would get such a roll and was afraid to ask, but Miranda wanted to
be sure Carl wasn't spending money that wasn't his.

 "Carl." Miranda asked, with tact. "Where did you get that?"

 "I earned it." he said, proudly.

 "Where?"

 "Working."

 "At the store?" Miranda questioned. She knew Carl couldn't make 
more than minimum wage.

 "Ya, at the store."

 "How much do you make, Carl?" Miranda asked, curiosity mounting.

 "Dad pays me four dollars an hour." Carl said. "But after taxes I 
make about a hundred and thirty dollars every week."

 Miranda made six times that and still had to pinch pennies. She 
couldn't imagine anyone getting by on such a meager amount, but then it 
occurred to her, Carl lived at home. He didn't go out, didn't drink. He 
didn't have much to spend his money on and if he saved most of it, he just 
might have some put away.

 "I'm not prying or anything Carl, but just out of curiosity, how 
much money do you have." she asked.

 "Well, there's about sixteen hundred here." he said, innocently. 
"Is that what you wanted to know, or were you asking how much money I have 
everywhere else?"

 "I guess everywhere else." Miranda smiled.

 Carl thought about the question for a minute then asked if she 
wanted to know because she wanted his money and when Miranda told him 
absolutely not, he believed her.

 "Dad said all women want money or sex. I'm glad you just want sex."
he smiled.

 "Carl! That's not true." Miranda said. She was annoyed that Jesse 
would tell him such a thing.

 "I don't want your money or sex."

 "But, you told me you wanted to make love, Miranda."

 "Yes, well, I do, but that's not the same thing."

 "Why not?"

 "It just isn't, that's all, damn, Carl. If sex was all I wanted I 
could get that anywhere. I told you I wanted to make love with you because 
I like you very much, Carl."

 "Well, okay, I'll tell you then." Carl said. He told Miranda that 
he'd been working at the store for eleven years, ever since he turned 
sixteen. He'd saved his checks every week for all that time, except every 
Christmas when he spent a little for gifts. Between the money he'd put away
and the interest he'd earned, Carl was boasting a bank account holding more
than one hundred thirty seven thousand dollars. Miranda's face turned 
white. She couldn't imagine him having that kind of money, but Carl proved 
it by letting her see his bank book.

 "Does Mr. Vanderhorn know about this?" she asked.

 "No, neither does mom. They think I spend my money on books and 
magazines."

 "Why, do you have a lot of them?" Miranda figured he must have for 
Jesse and Alice to think that's where one hundred thirty bucks a week was 
going.

 "Oh, sure, I've got tons of them. I get magazines from Williard's 
New stand, but he gives them to me. I always get one copy of every one he 
sells."

 "How you don't steal them, do you?"

 "Stealing isn't legal, Miranda." Carl said. "He gives the outdated 
copies to me. When I get them they're a month out of date but most of the 
time you can't tell, unless it's Time or News Week. They sometimes have old
news, but most of the others are just as fresh as if they were the current 
issue. I also have a lot of books. I buy some at yard sales and library 
sales. I've got the whole collection of Sherlock Holmes murder mysteries 
and I only gave three dollars for them."

 "That's amazing." Miranda said, with a warm smile.

 "Ya, I never allow myself to spend more than ten dollars on books 
in a months time, but at twenty five cents a book, I can get forty of them.
I don't always find that many, but sometimes I do."

 "Do you read them all?" Miranda was impressed. She'd never known 
anyone who read forty books before, and the way Carl was talking, that was 
a months haul for him.

 "Sure, I do. I've read every book in the library." Carl said. He 
didn't think that unusual. He thought everyone read, books at night. Some 
people worked nights but they must read during the daytime, that way his 
reasoning.

 "The library?" Miranda questioned. "Nobody has read all the books 
in a library, Carl." she smiled.

 "That's what my dad said too, but it's true, Miranda. Why would I 
lie about something like that? We have to get off this corner now." Carl 
said.

 "Why?"

 "It has a bus bench on it."

 "So?"

 "Well, if the driver comes and we don't get on, he'll be pissed 
that he had to stop." Carl explained.

 "Let's get on it then, Carl. Let's take a bus all the way across 
town and back."

 "What for?"

 "Just because. Let's just ride around until we see a place we want 
to stop." When the bus came they boarded. Miranda paid the fare. She wanted
to put his mind at ease about wanting his money. They rode for miles 
looking at all the lights and decorations in the store windows, then got 
off to have dinner.

 Carl was a gentleman all through the evening. He was considerate 
and kind, loving and funny.

 Miranda liked him more and more and when they decided to take in a 
movie, she kissed him as. soon as the house lights went dark. Carl kissed 
back this time controlling him passion. If Miranda wanted to make love with
him, that must mean his dream to marry her was becoming a reality. He lost 
his nervousness somewhat and was better able to respond without mauling 
her.

 They watched a sex film, It wasn't a good one, but they both were 
intrigued with it. The leading man was a shoe repair man living alone. He 
kept his shop in the rear of his home and worked late at night fixing 
shoes. One night a young girl came to the shop wanting her heel repaired 
and when the man let her inside, she laughed at him.

 The man grabbed the young girl then locked the door. He put a gag 
on her so her screams couldn't be heard then he carried her to the back 
room. His cobblers bench was long and made of oak. The man cleared it by 
using his arm and knocking everything to the floor. He hoisted the young 
girl up to the wooden table then tied her hands and feet with rope. She 
squirmed and twisted trying to break free, but to no avail.

 After pulling all the shades in the shop, the man came to the table
and looked at the girl. .She was young and lovely, not unlike Miranda, and 
he unbuttoned her blouse letting her breasts fall free. Next he pulled off 
her skirt and panties leaving her completely nude and vulnerable.

 The young girl acted afraid but Miranda and Carl could easily see 
it was an act. She needed three or four more years of acting school to 
convince the audience, but they figured there was no harm in using 
imagination.

 The man stood along side of the young naked girls body and grinned 
devilishly. He touched her nipples with his fingers then let them travel 
the length of her body all the way to her toes. He was teasing the girl, 
poking and probing her curves before using a more stimulating method of 
fondling.

 The camera gave Miranda and Carl a close up of the girls pussy 
slit. It zoomed in close showing the pink folds of skin surrounding her 
hole and Miranda looked over at Carl for his reaction. He was leaning 
forward in the seat taking in every detail and she smiled at him deciding 
not to disturb his enjoyment.

 The shoe repair man slipped his finger up her pussy, pushing it all
the way in, and she squirmed on it trying to get him away, but the more she
wiggled, the faster his finger darted in and out. He wanted to finger her 
cunt until it flowed wet with juice.

 After the man managed to get the girl's cunt running, he went 
around and inched between her spread thighs. The camera had to shoot from 
overhead to catch the shot. It showed the long tongue slipping in and out 
of the girls pussy and he was lapping up her cunt cream as quickly as she 
dribbled it. His face wasn't touching the girls body, just his unusually 
long tongue, and after several minutes watching him lick her snatch, the 
camera moved around under the table showing the man's stiff cock. He was 
masturbating himself while he sucked her slit clean and getting it ready to
fuck the pretty maiden until she fainted from the pain.

 Miranda winced seeing the size of his schlong, but all men in sex 
movies had unusually large cocks. John Holmes sported a fourteen inch cock 
and this guys made his look dwarfed. He held the thick meat up then backed 
his face away from the young girls wet slit. His eyes were shining with 
lust as he stood on a stool to line up the throbbing cockmeat with her 
pussy.

 It was, of course, a perfect match, and when he rammed it to her, 
the girls ass lifted off the table. The man slipped his hands under her ass
cheeks raising her onto his dick. He flicked her cunt so fast the camera 
had to back off to keep from getting a blurred shot. Miranda's own pussy 
started to twinge at the thought of tacking a cock that size. She could 
almost feel the pain it would induce and as Carl looked over at her, she 
was engrossed in the picture. He figured she must be enjoying it and opted 
not to disturb her.

 The man violated the girl in every imaginable way. He fucked her 
throat then took her virgin asshole. He even drove a thick hammer handle up
her cunt and made her dizzy with pain. He worked the girl over with every 
ounce of strength he had and when his huge cock finally shot it's load, 
Miranda watched with amazement.

 The camera man pulled in close as the massive cock squirted cum. 
The man held it over the girls mouth and let the spray squirt from his piss
hole so that the camera caught every blast. His dick pulsated like a fire 
hose filling with water and the slit in his knob opened like the mouth of a
volcano. Hot lather flowed from it, streaming out the slit past the girls 
face then onto the floor. It was firing fast, one stream after the other 
and as the man realized he was missing the girt, he stood up on the stool 
and pointed his cock downward. The girl opened her mouth and took in the 
jism. It was hot and thick and she swallowed every drop she could get.

 The man bled his cock for her, milking the hot cum up the shaft and
into her eager lips. She wanted it and he gave it to her. Next, he went 
around to the girls cunt and lapped it a few times licking up her sweet 
excitement. Carl loved seeing that part. He longed to taste Miranda's cunt 
the same way.

 The shoe repair man took out three rubber dongs from under the work
bench. Miranda felt embarrassed seeing them because they were just like 
hers. She kept a supply of rubber cocks on hand for all the lonely nights 
she spent watching old movies.

 The man used the biggest dildo in the girls pussy. The camera came 
in for the close up and the entire screen was filled with the shot of her 
wide spread pussy lips and gushing cunt slit. He shoved the dick in until 
it sank all the way to the fake rubber balls.

 The huge veins on the thing rubbed to her clit and the girl, shaken
at first, began humping her pussy onto it like a wild animal. She was 
hungry for a fuck and the man used his fake thick cock to give her what she
needed.

 Next, he pulled out another dong and slid it up her ass. She wailed
out when it penetrated but the rag tied around her mouth didn't let the 
scream be heard. It was a muffled sound, like air pressing against the side
of a rubber tube.

 The camera showed how the man alternated dongs in her holes. First,
he'd let the big cock thrust all the way up her cunt and as it came out, 
the one in her ass went deep. He was showing it in slow motion for the 
audience and Carl was completely absorbed with the action. His cock swelled
to full size and Miranda noticed him squirming in the seat trying to get 
comfortable.

 She couldn't fault Carl for getting aroused. Her own slit felt like
it was draining from her canal into her panties and when she reached under 
her dress for a quick feel, discovered she was right. The crotch of her 
panties was soaking wet.

 Miranda thought she'd give Carl a thrill. She reached over and took
his hand guiding it up her dress to the wet place. Carl's eyes got big when
he felt her thigh and bigger yet when he felt her wetness but when Miranda 
pulled aside her panties and let him dip a finger to her pussy, Carl's eyes
almost came out of their sockets.

 He fingered her slit in the movie theater with passion. Sliding it 
up and down, in and out, in and out, until his hand was drenched from her 
cunt juices.

 Miranda slumped forward letting her hips come to the edge of the 
chair and Carl was able to go deeper. He finger flicked her pussy deeply 
and Miranda wondered if his cock was as large as his hands were big. She'd 
heard you could tell the size of a man's dick by the size of his hands. If 
there was any truth to it at all, Miranda was in for a dick about as huge 
as the shoe repairman's on the screen.

 Carl looked into Miranda's eyes as if to say, please, I need you, 
and she looked back with the same message. He slipped from his chair and 
tried to squeeze in front of her but there wasn't room. She made him get 
back in his seat and finger her some more.

 Carl's cock was screaming to get out of his pants. It was pressed 
so tightly against the fabric his blood supply was choking off. Miranda 
reached over and let the thing free. She unzipped his pants and pulled it 
through the slit in his jockey shorts. When Carl's dick came out it 
stretched halfway up his abdomen. She couldn't believe the size of it.

 He looked at her again this time saying, please, let me luck you 
now, an Miranda couldn't deny him. She got up from her chair and sat in 
Carl's lap putting her sopping wet hole around the throbbing rod then 
slowly lowered herself onto it as if impaling herself on a long sword.

 The chills running through Carl's body were electric. This was the 
first time in his life he'd fucked a pussy and it was better that he ever 
imagined. The slick wet walls of her cunt enveloped his cock and the 
smoothness of it made him wince with passion.

 She took him in as far as she could and Carl closed his eyes and 
let the feelings overtake his body. She slowly pumped up and down on Carl's
cock and the more she did, the more difficult his breathing became. He 
huffed air from his nostrils like a bull and he clenched his teeth 
together, grinding them into one another.

 As Carl's passion rose, so did Miranda's, and soon she was humping 
her cunt over his, cock like a woman possessed. The men in the seats around
them were watching them flick, but Miranda didn't Scare. She wanted Carl's 
hard long cock as deep up her pussy as it would go and nothing was going to
keep her from bringing him off or being brought off.

 His balls started to draw tight. Carl could feel the excitement in 
his bones and he moved his hips up and down meeting Miranda's strokes. He 
was flicking cunt. Really getting a piece of it and it felt better than 
good. He put his hands to Miranda's hips under her dress then pulled her 
down on his cockmeat. She let him, even helped, and as Carl felt the cum in
his balls begin to well he pulled faster letting his body relax and the hot
lather from his dick make its way out the shaft and up Miranda's deep 
sucking cunt.

 When Miranda saw Carl cumming she continued humping her pussy onto 
his dick. She rubbed the thick veins of his shaft over and over her cut 
pulling the foreskin up and down until she climaxed on it. It took her 
longer to bring herself off but Carl held fast letting her finish. The men 
next to Carl watched as his Miranda came off and they all had their cocks 
in hand masturbating as she went over the top.

 "Everybody's looking at us, Miranda." Carl said, noticing it.

 "Where?" she asked turning around. There they were, men surrounding
them on all sides and Miranda felt awful. She was embarrassed beyond 
imagination until Carl asked her if it was good. She told him the best and 
when the men around them cheered, she smiled.

 "I'd like to marry you, Miranda." Carl said. He just knew this was 
the perfect time to solidify their relationship, but Miranda went cold with
the words and climbed off his cock. Her pussy dripped cum all over his 
slacks as she tried to get back to her seat and Carl wondered why she was 
acting so upset.

 "Is everything alright?" he asked.

 "No, Carl."

 "What's the matter?"

 "Let's just get out of here."

 "Why, Miranda?"

 "Just come on." She got up and ran up the aisle then out to the 
street. Carl tucked his spent cock in then followed.

 "Miranda, wait up." he yelled. She stopped for him and turned 
around.

 "Why did you have to spoil everything?" she asked.

 "How? What did I do?" Carl was confused. He didn't understand what 
was wrong.

 "Why did you say that?"

 "What, ask you to marry me?"

 "Yes, damnit!"

 "I love you, Miranda, that's why. I've loved you from the 
beginning."

 "Oh, please, Carl. We've know each other for hours, what 
beginning?" Miranda ran down the street with Carl chasing her and when she 
wasn't able to run any further, she stopped.

 "Everything was so good, Carl. Why did you ruin it? I won't marry 
you, Carl, damn you. Why did you say that?"

 Carl didn't understand. He thought she wanted the same as he. He 
thought Miranda loved him, why else would she want to luck him that way? He
didn't try to keep up with her when she started running again. He just let 
her go.

 Miranda ran all the way to the bus stop then sat on the bench. She 
was confused and hurt. Carl made a mockery of her in front of everyone. He 
let her make a fool of herself by flicking him in front of complete 
strangers then he joked about it by suggesting they marry. Any girl who 
flicks in a movie theater isn't the marrying kind, she reasoned. Why did he
insult her that way? Miranda reasoned she had it coming. If she would stoop
so low as to lose her control that way, he had a right to make fun of her.

 Miranda was so wrapped up in her own guilt that she failed to 
realize Carl was serious. He wasn't making digs, or poking fun. He loved 
her and he wanted to marry her and have babies and a dog and a house full 
of cats. She couldn't see the innocence of the man, or the purity of heart 
because her own self doubting got in the way.

 Carl walked home a shattered man. Jesse was right, all women wanted
was money and cock. Miranda got what she wanted and now she wanted to move 
on. He felt sick on his stomach and Carl stopped to throw up. More than 
anything he wanted Miranda for his wife, but what hope was there now if all
she wanted was cock?



Chapter Seven

 The bus dropped her off three blocks from Vanderhorn's store and 
Miranda walked toward home, eyes tearing, spirit depressed. She felt 
terrible for losing control that way. She was eager to have Carl but 
regretted taking him that way.

 She tried not to look at the store as she passed but it was 
impossible. She was drawn to it. Drawn to Carl's little place of work. 
Miranda glanced through the store window and just as she got past the door,
Jesse opened it and called to her.

 "Missy." he said. "Missy Miranda?" She turned and looked at the old
man. Miranda didn't want any trouble from Jesse. She glared at him but his 
face was calm, his voice gentle. She didn't see the harm in talking with 
him providing he kept civil. Miranda figured he would offer an apology for 
earlier and she wanted to give him the chance.

 "Mr. Vanderhorn?" she said, letting him know she was willing to 
listen.

 "Missy, please, may I speak with you a minute?" he asked. "Please, 
I promise I won't yell at you again, or say unkind things to you, Missy. I 
just need to speak with you. Please come inside and we can talk. Jesse 
looked sincere but what could he possibly have to say, she wondered.

 "We can talk right here." she said.

 "Please, Missy Miranda, not out here where people will heir. I must
tell you about my Carl. The street isn't the place." Jesse was pleading, as
if some horrible secret would be exposed in the street and his family would
be forever ruined. She could see the earnest expression in his eyes, a man 
desperate to make things right, and because it was his store and because 
Miranda wasn't the sort to turn people out, she agreed to talk inside. She 
stepped into the store and Jesse locked the door.

 "Just to keep customer's out." he explained. He pulled down the 
door shade then asked if she'd like something to drink.

 "Help yourself to anything, Miss Miranda." he said. Jesse was being
too kind, almost deviously kind, but Miranda took a coke then asked what he
wanted to say. Jesse was reluctant to talk. He asked if she'd come to the 
back room where they could sit. She followed him and Jesse got her a chair.
He took pains for her comfort then thanked her for coming inside.

 "I want to tell you about my son." Jesse started. He looked tired. 
Weary was a better was to describe him. His face looked ragged, like he'd 
just finished battling a wind storm.

 "Alright." Miranda said. "But, I must tell you, Mr. Vanderhorn, I 
think very highly of Carl. I realize you don't approve of us seeing one 
another, but Carl is a grown man and should be able to date if he chooses."

 "Yes, and that's why you should listen to what I have to say." 
Jesse pulled his chair closer to Miranda's. He was sitting close enough to 
touch her knees if he took the notion, and Miranda sipped her coke and let 
him continue.

 "Carl is a special boy, Missy. He's not like other men."

 "I realize that, Mr. Vanderhorn." she said.

 "Carl is different." Jesse said, looking at her. She wondered what 
the point was. She realized Carl was special, Jesse didn't have to tell her
that.

 "What is it you want me to know, Mr. Vanderhorn?" she asked, losing
patience.

 "Carl is, well ... " he hesitated. "Carl is slow, Missy."

 "But, he's smart. He's not the dummy you think he is." she said.

 "No, no dummy, this I know. I'm not saying he's not smart, Miranda,
Carl is slow. He doesn't know about certain things and a girl like you 
could harm a boy like Carl."

 "I would never hurt Carl." Miranda insisted. She didn't like 
Jesse's implication one bit. There was nothing she did, or would ever do, 
to hurt Carl Vanderhorn. She liked the man.

 "Let me finish." Jesse snapped. Miranda watched Jesse struggle to 
gain composure. He was like an explosive ready to ignite and she backed off
letting him speak. The very last thing she wanted was a scene with Jesse 
Vanderhorn.

 "My Carl, he's a good boy, Missy, a real good boy. He never hurts 
no one, my Carl. He keeps to himself, and that's the way it should be." 
Jesse stated. Miranda didn't agree with Mr. Vanderhorn, but she let him 
have his say.

 "My Carl, he does well by himself. He works in the store, he 
doesn't bother the customer's. He keeps quiet back here, Missy. Carl is a 
quiet boy. He needs to stay away from the people because Carl, he's like an
animal."

 Miranda heard enough. It was one thing to say Carl was different, 
even slow, but to call him an animal? She had to interrupt.

 "Mr. Vanderhorn, what are you trying to say?" she asked, abruptly. 
"Are you telling me to stay away from Carl, because if you are, just save 
your breath. First of all, he probably won't want to see me again and even 
if he did, nothing you could say would keep me from that. I like Carl, I 
like him very much, and as much as you think he's an animal, I find him to 
be the opposite."

 "Carl's never experienced a woman, Missy, not until ... " Jesse 
stopped. He didn't want to let her know he was in the theater tonight. He 
watched them flicking in the movie house and Jesse wasn't going to let it 
slip.

 "My Carl, he don't understand about the women, Missy. He only knows
about them from magazines. He's never had a real woman. He wouldn't behave 
the right way. I'm afraid for you, Missy, that's why I want to talk. You 
could be in danger with my Carl." Jesse said it in an apologetic fashion. 
Miranda felt odd knowing the truth but wasn't sure she should mention it. 
If Jesse knew they had done it in the movie theater he might become violent
and toss her out. She decided to listen.

 "Carl, he dated no one all the way through school, Missy. He left 
school early and never developed. He's a normal man though, with normal

 desires for the women, you know what I mean. I just think he might 
get over excited and harm you in some way." Jesse said. His concern for 
Miranda's welfare didn't seem genuine. His expression did, and so did his 
voice, but Miranda had trouble accepting his words. If Jesse had been 
concerned for her welfare then why would he make those ugly remarks about 
she and Carl? She let him talk but needed more than a few words to convince
her he was sincere.

 "My Carl, he's like a young animal, Missy. You know what I'm 
saying, don't you?"

 "To be honest, Mr. Vanderhorn, no I don't. Carl is wonderful to me.
He's gentle and sweet. He got a little worked up the other night when we 
kissed but it wasn't difficult to calm him. I don't fear for my safety 
around Carl, Mr. Vanderhorn, I trust him completely."

 "How did you calm him?" Jesse asked.

 "I just asked him to slow down, that's all."

 "Then what?" Jesse's eyes were getting more intense. He wanted the 
truth from Miranda about the other night. He wanted to know what they did.

 "You know, Carl is a grown man, Mr. Vanderhorn. He shouldn't have 
to talk with you about his sex life."

 "You lucked my Carl, then?" Jesse asked with outrage.

 "No, we didn't do that, and what if we had, what business would 
that be of yours. You know, this conversation is silly. Carl doesn't have 
to answer to you and neither do I. Does Mrs. Vanderhorn know you ask these 
things?"

 "Never mind, Mrs. Vanderhorn, Missy. Alice doesn't know from 
nothing. It's Carl I want to deal with, Carl and you." Jesse leaned forward
putting a hand to Miranda's knee then he pressed harder than he should and 
asked if she liked Carl's dick.

 "I don't have to answer this." Miranda said, attempting to get up, 
but Jesse didn't allow it. He stood and pushed her back down in the chair 
then grabbed her hair to make her sit still.

 "I saw what you did, Missy. I was there in the movie house tonight.
You lucked my Carl in the theater, I saw it. I got a cure for girlies like 
you, Missy. Girls like you go around teasing old men with your charms then 
you luck their boys, leaving the old man out in the cold. I have a cure for
your kind."

 "Let me go, you old fool. What's gotten into you?" Miranda yelled. 
She wanted to run but Jesse had such a grip on her hair she wasn't able. He
would have pulled it out by the roots had she attempted to move.

 "My Carl thinks he can come in here and steal my lady, but I won't 
let him. It was fine when he was younger. Then he wasn't a problem in the 
Store, then I didn't have to fight for my ladies, but now ... now he's a 
man and he takes from me. Carl never had proper respect for his father, 
Missy. That's wrong not to show proper respect. He can't take you, I won't 
allow that."

 "Old man, what in hell are you talking about?" Miranda asked, 
squirming from the pain in having her hair tugged. She became fearful of 
Jesse. His eyes glassed over and he wasn't making sense.

 "Us, Missy, us. I've had my eye on you. I've been courting you all 
these months and Carl won't take you from me."

 "You're nuts, Jesse, you know that?" Miranda yelled.

 "Keep your voice down, Missy." Jesse pulled a rag off the butcher 
block counter and stuffed it in her mouth then forced her to stand up. He 
made her climb up on the butcher block and lay down. Miranda didn't know 
what to do. If she tried to run the old man would hurt her badly, but if 
she did as he said, it might be worse. As she got up on the block, Miranda 
kicked Jesse in the stomach then made a wild dash for the back door. It was
locked tight and before she had the chance to get away, Jesse had grabbed 
her by the hair.

 "No, no, no." he mocked. "You won't get away from me that easily. I
have to teach you a lesson, Missy I have to make you understand that you 
don't luck with my boy." Jesse slammed Miranda's body against the steel 
door then bent her arms behind her and pulled up. He was hurting her. She 
had to go where he led or he'd break her arms.

 "Up!" Jesse yelled. Forcing her up on the block again. This time he
looped rope around her legs and tied them down. He pulled on them hard 
until her thighs were spread wide, then he wrapped the rope around the 
table legs.

 "You won't get away from me, Missy. Not now." Jesse's eyes stared 
at her body. It was as if he could see through her, and when he secured her
arms, Miranda panicked. She began thrashing trying to break free but Jesse 
had tied her so securely, she wasn't able to move more than half and inch 
in any direction.

 "No use, Miss Miranda. You may as well give up." he said. "I'm 
going to teach you about men like my Carl and why you shouldn't luck with 
him." Jesse said. He pulled his chair close to the butcher block then had a
seat. He wiped his brow then slipped the hanky back in his pocket.

 Miranda watched his every move. What would he do, she thought. Has 
he gone mad? She listened as Jesse explained more about his Carl. She could
see the envy in his eyes, the hatred for the boy. She imagined that Jesse's
mind believed Carl was trying to take his girlfriend away and he would 
punish her for letting it happen.

 "Carl don't need you the way I need you, Missy Miranda. Carl has 
his books and magazines. I've caught him with them. He takes off his pants 
and lays on the bathroom floor with them, I know I look under the door and 
see what Carl does. He makes noise in there, Missy, like a wild animal 
killing prey. My Carl, he's a big boy, eh?" Jesse smiled.

 "Where you think he gets that, Missy?" Jesse smiled again. "You 
think he's big, Missy?" Miranda didn't respond. She just glared at the sick
old man and waited.

 "Let me prove what I say." Jesse said standing. He undid his pants 
then slipped them off. Next, his boxer shorts came down, and Miranda felt 
sorry for him. Jesse sported a cock half the size of Carl's but in his mind
he was bigger than the boy.

 "You see this dick, Missy?" Jesse asked, lifting the limp shaft 
then bobbing it up and down. "This is a family inheritance, that's what 
this is. My Carl, he got his cock from me, you can see that, can't you 
Missy?" Jesse asked. Miranda, again, didn't respond, but this time Jesse 
slapped her mouth.

 "Say!" he demanded, and Miranda agreed. "That's better, Missy. When
I ask you, you say, do you understand?" Miranda nodded. She was afraid of 
Jesse. He'd gone mad, and the more he talked the worse it became.

 "I want to see your pussy, Missy." Jesse reached up and slipped 
Miranda's panties down. Her legs were so wide apart they only came to 
mid-thigh, and when Jesse took the butcher knife and sliced them off her 
body, Miranda whimpered. He was reckless with the thing and she was afraid 
he'd cut her legs.

 Jesse lifted Miranda's dress exposing her nude body from the waist 
down. He positioned himself between her legs for a closer look and as his 
breath got closer and closer to her cunt, Miranda began crying. What would 
the old maniac do, she feared.

 "Look at this." Jesse said smiling devilishly. His eyes fixed to 
her slit and his face lit up like a lamp. He was gawking at her spread 
pussy slit and rubbing his cock at the same time. Jesse wanted to fuck it 
but he held off.

 His finger poked at Miranda's hole. He flipped the lips back and 
forth watching them stick together then he used his finger to separate them
again. He was watching her muscles tensing and loving every second.

 Miranda's cunt muscles tightened when the tip of his finger touched
her opening, as if she could have kept Jesse's finger out if he'd wanted to
finger her. He teased her, making her use the muscles then he lowered his 
face and did the same with his tongue.

 Miranda was spread wide. She wasn't able to budge an inch and when 
Jesse licked her opening with the tip of his tongue, she flinched and 
clamped down. The old man laughed. He thought it was amusing the way she 
reacted. He wanted to show her there was no sense in fighting him. He'd get
inside her slit anyway.

 "You can't stop me, Missy, why try? Here, you squeeze down on my 
finger as bard as you can and let's just see how much you can prevent." 
Jesse forced his middle finger up her cunt and it dragged against the dry 
walls until his finger went deep enough to find lubrication from Carl's 
deposit, and when the old man's finger ran through the cock slime, he 
became angry.

 "You slut!" he yelled, jabbing her slit hard with his finger. "You 
like a cock, Missy, I'll show you what flicking sluts like you should 
have." Jesse ran across the room and took out a frozen salami from the 
freezer case. He wrapped his hanky to it then ran back and shoved it into 
Miranda's cunt.

 The freezing temperature of the thick meat made her cry Out and the
forceful way Jesse reamed her hole gave her pain. She wanted to get away 
but couldn't move, and the more she struggled the more difficulty Jesse had
making the think go in. He forced it up and when Miranda figured she'd do 
better to relax and take it, the man stopped.

 "A slut like you will take meat, eh, Missy." he said. "You like the
salami too, don't you?" Jesse was out of control. He yanked out the thick 
frozen meat tube and threw it to the floor then he used both hands to 
spread her slit wide. His tongue sank deep up her pussy and he bit the 
tender flesh of her pussy lips as he tongue fucked the hole.

 Jesse licked her for several seconds then hit her hard. He wanted 
to make her suffer for making a fool of him. He wanted Miranda and she ran 
off with Carl. Jesse taught all the young girls a lesson when they refused 
him. He used the back room to teach them respect. Slut's shouldn't shun old
men, he said. Slut's should be lucky an old man wants them.

 Miranda lay as still as possible. She tried to relax and keep the 
pain down to a minimum but Jesse had had enough of her. He was planning to 
dispose of her the way he got rid of the others. He picked up the butcher 
knife then came around to her neck.

 "I'm sorry, Missy, but this can't end any other way. Carl shouldn't
have let you destroy him this way. He's just a boy, Missy, a stupid boy. 
He'll be better off with you out of the way and so will I." Jesse lifted 
the knife over Miranda, and just as he was about to stab her, he heard a 
rattling at the back door. He turned to see Carl entering the back room, 
and when Carl took in the scene, his mouth hung open in awe.

 Miranda was tied to the butcher block table, her legs apart, and 
Jesse stood over her with the long thick butcher knife. Carl didn't know 
what to think. He became confused then realized Jesse was going to kill 
Miranda.

 "What are you doing?" Carl questioned, walking toward Jesse.

 "Stay where you are, Carl, or I'll cut her." Jesse shouted. Carl 
stopped. He could see the old man meant every word. "What are you doing 
here, you should be home?" Jesse added. He hadn't planned on Carl coming to
the store. He figured after Miranda ran off, the way she did, he'd go home 
to his room full of magazines.

 "I came for the aprons, dad."

 "Not now, you can get them later." Jesse yelled.

 "What are you doing to Miranda?"

 "Teaching her a lesson for you, Carl. "Jesse said.

 "Me?"

 "Yes, son. She ran out on you, I saw her. Shed left you in the 
movie house alone and she made a fool out of you in front of the others. 
She's no good, Carl, no good, we must get rid of her." Jesse insisted. Carl
knew his father was mad. It was in his eye, the same distant stare he used 
when yelling at him for some little mistake he'd make with the platters. 
Carl didn't know how yet, but he had to get the knife from Jesse, and get 
it fast.

 "She didn't run out, dad. Miranda didn't leave me."

 "I saw her, Carl. I was there." Jesse insisted. Carl's mind was 
reeling faster than it ever had. He was frantically assessing the situation
and when he remembered something his mother told him about arguing, he 
looked at his father and smiled.

 "I wanted to teach her a lesson too." Carl said. "I wanted to teach
her that I'm not a dummy. Miranda thinks I am, dad." he said.

 Miranda's eyes widened with Carl's words. None of it was true and 
she became fearful Carl was cracked too. She couldn't believe he'd slip 
away from her that way. Miranda didn't want to die but the more Carl spoke,
the more evident it became that her time was up.

 "Let me, dad." Carl said. "I'm the one who should get rid of her. I
want to teach her." Carl stepped closer and Jesse became confused. He 
hadn't expected Carl to be this agreeable. Could it be the boy finally saw 
it his way, he wondered. Jesse lowered the knife and stepped back. He was 
mesmerized by Carl's advancing form and when the boy was close enough, he 
grabbed the knife and knocked Jesse to the floor.

 Miranda's heart soared. She realized it was all an act Carl put on 
to get the weapon. He cut the ropes holding her legs and arms then turned 
the knife on his father.

 "You sick old man!" Carl screamed. "Is this what you do back here 
at night?" he asked. "You teach girls lessons?"

 "Carl, son." Jesse pleaded. "It's for their own good, I have to do 
it. They are bad girls, Carl. I only teach the bad girls."

 "Miranda isn't bad, she's wonderful. Get up, you old fool." Carl 
ordered. Miranda jumped down from the block and stayed behind Carl. She 
kept away from Jesse, hiding behind the shelter of Carl's form.

 "What are you doing, son?" Jesse pleaded. His face twisted, his 
eyes still glassed over.

 "Get back!" Carl snapped. He didn't know what to do with Jesse. 
"Sit down and keep quiet!"

 "What are you going to do, Carl?" Jesse pleaded again.

 "Carl," Miranda said. "You can't hurt him. If you do; you'll go to 
prison, you don't want that. You'll have to call the police, Carl, that's 
what you have to do."

 "Don't listen to her, Carl, it's a lie. If the police see you 
holding that knife on me they'll put you away."

 Carl became confused. His father was right about the knife. What 
could he do?

 "Let me think!" Carl shouted. "Just shut up and let me think!" Carl
shouted. Jesse and Miranda were talking a mile a minute. He couldn't think.
It was too confusing for Carl, trying to sort out what to do. He held the 
knife on Jesse while Miranda kept to the side out of the way. Jesse kept 
dogging Carl and the boy was frustrated. What Jesse said made sense.

 "She ran out on you, Carl. All her kind wants is money or cock." he
said. "Didn't she run out of the movie house right after you let her have 
it?" Jesse drove the point home. He wanted Carl to see slut's like Miranda 
are all alike and deserve punishment. He kept saying it over and over again
until finally, Carl told him to stop.

 "Carl, think about it, go on. Think for the first time. She took 
your dick in front of those other men and she made you luck her. She humped
up and down on you until you lost your semen. That was your semen, Carl, 
what you needed to be a father, and she stole it from you. You've lost it 
now. You can't be a father now, Carl, not without your semen." Jesse went 
on and on, and again, Carl warned him to shut up, but he wouldn't. He kept 
talking making Carl more confused.

 "Did she ask if you'd pay for the movie?" he said, thinking he'd 
get Carl on another track.

 "No, I offered to pay for the movie. Miranda didn't ask me to pay."

 "Did you show her your money?" Jesse asked.

 "Don't listen to him, Carl, he's lying. He's trying to turn you 
against me, can't you see that? I didn't take anything from you, Carl, 
think. What about all those books you've read? You know about semen, Carl, 
think. Your body will make more, you know that, and the money, I don't want
your money, Carl. Please, don't listen to him, Carl, women want more than 
money and dicks." she pleaded.

 "She's lying, Carl, she ran away because of the money. You're 
broke, Carl, Miranda wants a man with money. Did she ask how much you had?"
Jesse asked, frantically. He knew he had to talk fast or Miranda might 
convince him she was right.

 "She asked about all my money." Carl said, thinking back.

 "What did you tell her?" Jesse asked. He just knew when Carl told 
Miranda he was broke he could use her running away to prove his point, but 
when Carl told him about the money, Jesse was shocked.

 "What are you talking about, Carl? You don't have any money."

 "I do have money. It's in my account." Carl insisted.

 "If I wanted your money, Carl, would I have run away? You have 
plenty of money, don't you see that. I ran because I wanted to get away, 
Carl. I was trying to get away from myself for hurting you the way I did. I
thought you were angry with me in the movie house. I was lashing back at 
you." Miranda tried to explain and Carl listened but didn't understand. Was
she angry at him or was he supposed to be angry with her, his mind became a
jumble.

 "She's lying, Carl, she's a woman, they only want cock and money 
and when Missy here knew she couldn't get your money, she flicked your cock
then ran." Jesse shouted.

 "Just shut up, both of you!" Carl insisted. He was more confused 
than before, but when Miranda pleaded with him and finally explained that 
she felt awful making it with him in front of the others and she thought 
he'd lost respect for her, Carl responded with understanding. Jesse tried 
telling him it was a lie but Carl wouldn't listen. He knew Miranda was 
telling the truth.

 "You had no right to tie up Miranda that way, dad. She never hurt 
you, and even if she had, you can't go around tying up people." Carl said. 
"Come over here." Carl poked the knife at his father making the old man 
move toward the cooler. He forced Jesse inside then told him he'd be back 
with the police.

 He forced Jesse against the shelf and the impact of Jesse's body 
hitting it made a package fall off the top. Jesse's face became fearful 
seeing the wrapped package and when Carl picked it. up shivers ran through 
his body and it wasn't the cold air from the freezer causing it. The 
severed hand of a young girl fell from the package to the cooler floor and 
Miranda screamed. Carl jumped back three feet and Jesse hung his head low 
saying nothing.

 "Oh, God, Carl, what has he done?" Miranda said, taking hold of 
Carl's arm. "We have to get the police." she added.

 "What is this, dad, explain what this is?" Carl insisted. He 
couldn't believe his own father would do such madness but there it was, the
evidence, and Carl felt sick. When the package moved again, a foot fell 
out, then an ear. Carl threw it down then ran from the cooler and Miranda 
followed slamming the door locking Jesse inside.

 "What am I going to do?" Carl asked.

 "We must get the police, Carl.

 
 
 * * * * *

 Carl and Miranda ran from the store leaving Jesse locked in the 
cooler with the evidence. Carl ran toward home and she followed. He was 
half in shock and half angry How could Jesse do such a thing? How could he 
be so sick, and what about Miranda? How could he consider doing the same 
thing to such a sweet girl?

 When they reached Carl's house it was dark. Alice had been asleep 
for hours. Carl fumbled with his keys to find the right one, but he was so 
upset he couldn't do it. He pounded at the front door until Alice came and 
opened up.

 "My God, Carl, what is it?" she asked, seeing the fear on his face.

 "Don't ask, ma, not now." he said. Carl ran up to his room and 
slammed the door leaving Miranda alone with Mrs. Vanderhorn. She didn't 
know what to say. The old lady looked so concerned but if Miranda told her 
about the cooler and Jesse, she might go into shock or worse, have an 
attack right there in the living room.

 "What's wrong with Carl, Miranda? Tell me, please."

 "He'll be fine, Mrs. Vanderhorn, please, just sit down."

 "Did you say something to upset my Carl?" she asked. Miranda had to
laugh. There was nothing she could possibly have said to induce such fear 
in a man.

 "No, Mrs. Vanderhorn, I didn't say anything to Carl. He'll be fine,
just give him a minute.

 "I'm going to check." Alice started for the stairway but Miranda 
grabbed her arm and pulled the woman back.

 "Let go of me, you little hussie!" Alice barked.

 "Please, just leave him alone, Mrs. Vanderhorn. Carl will come down
when " Before the words left her lips, Carl was on his way down. He looked 
into his mother's eyes then wept.

 "Carl, my boy, what is the matter?"

 She followed her son to the living room then had a seat. Carl 
couldn't tell his mother the truth. It was too awful, too gruesome. She 
must be told but he didn't know how to do it. He looked to Miranda but she 
was just as uncertain. Finally Carl asked his mother to make coffee. He 
wanted to get her out of the room while he telephoned the police. She was 
reluctant at first but Carl promised he'd tell her all about it when she 
got back.

 Alice went to the kitchen and put on the coffee. She was getting 
the cups ready when she heard the dial on the phone. Carl was making a 
call. Alice picked up the extension and listened. She covered the 
mouthpiece and waited for the line to answer.

 "Police emergency, officer Alderman speaking." Alice cringed when 
she heard Carl talking to the police. She knew something awful must have 
happened to Jesse.

 "I'm calling to report a murder." Carl said. "I found the body at 
Vanderhorn's Grocery Store on ... "

 "Ya, I know Vanderhorn's store, who am I speaking with?" the 
officer asked.

 "This is Carl Vanderhorn, Jesse's son."

 "Right, we met once last year. Now, slow down and tell me what you 
found?" officer Alderman said.

 "A human hand, a human foot and a human ear. They are inside my 
father's store wrapped in a package in the freezer. My father is locked in 
there with it. I found him trying to murder my girlfriend tonight and when 
I stopped him and untied Miranda, we found the body parts."

 "Whoa, whoa, slow it down, son, what's this all about. Are we 
talking about Jesse Vanderhorn?" the office asked.

 "Yes, he's my father. I'm afraid he's killed a girl. Please, get to
the store quickly. We left him locked in the freezer."

 "Will you meet us at the store and open up?" the policeman asked. 
Carl agreed. He hung up the phone then sat down next to Miranda.

 "It's done." he said. "Finished. I have to meet them there."

 "I want to come with you." Miranda said.

 "Oh, God, Miranda, mother?" Carl said. He jumped up then ran into 
the kitchen. Alice wasn't there. The coffee was on, but she was nowhere to 
be found.

 The store was pitch black and when Alice came in through the back 
door she turned on the light. The butcher block still had ropes tied to it 
where Miranda was held and the salami he forced inside her was on the 
floor. Alice picked it up then threw it down quickly when she realized what
had happened.

 The freezer door was locked from the outside and as Alice peeked in
the window, she saw Jesse trying to hide packages. She knew what he was 
doing and the fact that he was trying to hide them made him guilty. Alice 
Vanderhorn had spent years living with Jesse and she put up with more 
torment than most. He was a tyrant. A barking, demanding, violent tyrant 
who beat her, and forced her to perform unusual sex acts. She hated the 
very sight of the man, and now this. Alice had reached the end of her rope.
She could no longer suffer the consequences of Jesse's life.

 
 
 * * * * *

 Carl and Miranda waited for officer Alderman to arrive. They 
watched from the street in front of the store. Carl was calm, at least more
than he was, and Miranda seemed to handle things better too. They worried 
about Alice but figured she'd gone back to bed. It was late, after all, and
Alice most likely figured Carl and Miranda had a fight.

 "What do you think will happen to your dad, Carl?" Miranda asked, 
thinking about the human body parts he kept in the cooler.

 "I don't know."

 "He'll have to go to trial, you know."

 "Yes, I knew that much. I guess he'll have to die for what he's 
done."

 "What if they find him crazy, Carl. They might you know, he seemed 
awfully crazy to me." Miranda said.

 "Jesse isn't crazy, Miranda, he knew what he was doing. He's a 
tyrant, that's all. I hope they hang him for what he's done."

 "I wish the police would get here." Miranda said, feeling the chill
from the evening air.

 "I don't. I hope they take an hour. That way Jesse will be frozen 
solid." Carl looked to the sidewalk and spotted his signature. He turned to
Miranda and smiled.

 "I put that in the day they poured the walkway." he said proudly. 
"I was a small boy then. I've lived my whole life right here on this 
block."

 "I grew up out west." Miranda said. "My daddy hat a cattle ranch 
out there and I used to ride all the time. I might go back someday." she 
said.

 "It's the police, good, they're here."

 "You Carl Vanderhorn?" the officer asked.

 "Yes, and this is Miranda Saunderson. My dad is inside the store, 
come on, I'll show you." Carl said.

 "Not so fast, Mr. Vanderhorn. Where exactly did you leave him?"

 "In the cooler, sir. There was no other place. He's been locked in 
there for thirty minutes, I've kept track of the time."

 "And you say there are human remains in the cooler with him?"

 "Yes, in a package. It was up on the top shelf but when I threw dad
in, it came down."

 "Why were you throwing him in the cooler, sir?" the officer asked.

 "This is ridiculous!" Miranda spoke up. "Can't you guys get the 
story after Jesse comes out of the freezer?"

 "No ma'am, we can't. We'll get it now, just keep still." the man 
said.

 "He had Miranda tied up in the back room and was going to stab her 
when I caught him. I didn't know what else to do." Carl said.

 "Fine, show us where you've got Mr. Vanderhorn." Carl unlocked the 
front door then turned on the lights. As the door opened, a loud shrill 
scream came from the back and officer Lambert and Mahaley pushed Carl aside
and ran to the back room.

 The screams came from the cooler and when they ran around to the 
door, saw Alice Vanderhorn slumped over a stack of cardboard boxes. Jesse 
was holding a knife and the officer's drew their guns and demanded he drop 
it, but Jesse got that look in his eye and when he saw the way Carl looked 
at him, he threw the weapon at one of the officers and the other one shot 
him.

 His old tired body fell to the floor and when the officer felt his 
pulse he was dead. Alice was also gone and when Carl realized what had 
happened, he broke down. Miranda helped him to a chair then hugged him 
tightly. The officers found the remains of Jesse's victims on the top shelf
of the cooler, and once they called for the coroner, Carl had to be taken 
to the hospital in shock.

 
 
 * * * * *

 Miranda crawled into bed and wept. Leaving Carl at the hospital was
difficult but he needed rest. She thought about the horrible tragedy with 
Carl's parents and tried to sleep but the horror of it kept playing over 
and over in her mind like a recording. She was sobbing heavily when Jan 
came home and when the girl heard Miranda crying, came to her bedroom.

 "Miranda, is everything alright?" she asked.

 "Yes, go away."

 "Hey, there's someone here I want you to meet." Jan said. "Robert, 
come meet Miranda." The young man stepped into Miranda's bedroom then went 
up to her. He was drunk, as was Jan, and when he threw back Miranda's 
covers and sat next to her, Miranda was startled by the strangers intrusion
and she jumped off the bed then backed away from him. Jan laughed so hard 
she wet herself and had to run to the bathroom. When Robert was alone with 
Miranda, he stripped down while she watched and started fondling his cock.

 "Hey, honey, Jan's told me all about your .problem. She said you 
don't get any. I can fix that for you, sweetheart." he slurred.

 "Get out of my room." Miranda shouted, but Robert moved closer. He 
was a big man, six feet, and wide shoulder's. Robert pressed Miranda up 
against the wall then kissed her mouth.

 His breath stank of stale beer and cigarettes and Miranda thought 
she'd get sick if he didn't stop. Robert's hand slipped to her crotch and 
grabbed a feel of her cunt but when Jan came back and saw him, she became 
angry.

 "What the luck are you doing?" she asked loudly.

 "Hey, baby, you told me your little friend didn't get any dick so I
was just giving her some of mine."

 "Get him away from me, Jan!" Miranda screamed. After all she'd gone
through, the last thing she wanted was a drunk man pawing her bones. The 
way Miranda tried to fight him off made Jan bust out laughing and when 
Robert saw that, he moved closer to Miranda knocking her to the bed.

 Her sore body hit the mattress and Robert's cock hit against her 
pelvis bone. He scrambled to get it inside the girls pussy and Jan 
continued laughing. She was high and drunk. It wasn't unusual for her to 
lose control. Jan really wanted Miranda to have fun and in her drunken 
state, figured she was.

 Robert managed to luck Miranda's pussy. He forced his thick cock 
between her legs then rammed it all the way in. Miranda was sore from 
Jesse's torture and she started to cry but Robert wouldn't stop.

 When Jan finally noticed Miranda's pain, she pulled her date off 
the girl and when he slapped her, Jan hit him over the head with a vase. 
She beat Robert all the way out the front door and when he got into the 
hallway, dick still out, Jan slammed and locked the door. She ran back to 
check on Miranda but the girl was routing around in her closet.

 "What are you doing?" Jan asked.

 "Leaving, that's what!" Miranda yelled.

 "Where?"

 "Back home."

 "Miranda, you are home." Jan laughed. She was acting silly and 
trying to take the suitcase from Miranda but the girl managed to shove Jan 
on the bed then start packing.

 "Come on, Miranda, really, where are you going this rune of night?"

 "I told you where."

 "West? What the luck's out there?" Jan giggled.

 "Get out of my way, Jan." Miranda said, pushing her aside. She was 
bound and determined to leave. She'd taken all the Jan Feldon she could 
stomach and all the trauma her heart could manage.

 "Did you have a fight with that boy of yours?"

 "No."

 "Okay, so why are you acting this way?" Jan probed.

 "I'm just fed up, Jan, okay. I don't want to talk about it."

 "Well, how the tuck are we gonna fix what's wrong if you won't talk
about it, honey. Come on, sit here with big sister, Jan and tell me all 
about what's eating you, or is that it honey, is it cause nobody's eating 
you?" Jan laughed again.

 "I'm sick of you, Jan Feldon. You're nothing but a cheap luck."

 "Hey, honey you'd better watch them F-words." she warned through 
her laughter. "They'll start becoming part of your every day talking and 
then who will you put down? You always did, didn't you, Miranda, put me 
down, I mean?"

 "You put yourself down, Jan."

 "Stay with me, Miranda, don't leave me. What'll I do without you?" 
Miranda looked at her drunken friend then sneered.

 "Hire a tucking maid, Jan!" Miranda stormed out of the house then 
hailed a cab. She wanted out of Hendersonville forever and told the cabbie 
to drive to the airport.

 She jumped inside and was on her way home. The business wasn't 
making it anyway and Jan could do just fine keeping things up to pay the 
bills. She wanted to feel the cool western wind in her hair and smell the 
clean air again.

 Miranda inherited her father's ranch when he passed on. Her mother 
died when she was young but she never told anyone. Miranda didn't want 
others to know what she was worth. Her father left her a huge estate with 
plenty of acreage and even more money.

 She worried about Carl. He was all alone in the hospital. Both 
parents gone in the same night, and now she was running out. She made the 
driver turn around and head toward the hospital. Miranda wanted to say 
good-bye to Carl and explain why she had to leave. She couldn't bear 
another minute of that city or its people.



Chapter Nine

 Carl was resting quietly when nurse Devon entered his room. She 
brought fresh water and a wash cloth for his throbbing head. Miss Devon 
stood at the foot of Carl's bed smiling as she watched his young firm body 
squirming under the sheets. She liked the way his hips moved and the way 
his shoulders fanned out from his tiny waist.

 Carl was resting with his eyes closed. The upset in losing both 
parents was too much for him to cope with. Nurse Devon gave him a shot 
earlier and it was helping.

 "Carl?" she called softly. "How are you feeling?" Carl mumbled 
something and the nurse had to get closer to make it out. She nestled her 
lovely face to his neck then asked him to repeat the words. Carl's fading 
voice mumbled fine, and nurse Devon grinned.

 "I'm going to sit with you awhile, Carl, would you like that?" Carl
nodded.

 "Fine." he managed again.

 Nurse Devon sat next to him putting the cool cloth to his head. She
wanted to help him feel better but was more interested in looking at his 
body. She lifted the sheets and saw he was still fully dressed.

 "Let me get you out of these things, Carl. You can't rest 
comfortably in these jeans." The young nurse closed the door to Carl's room
and hung out the do not disturb sign. She wanted time alone with him and 
planned to steal. it.

 She removed the sheet from Carl's stretched out form then put it on
the chair next to the bed. Nurse Devon liked the shape of Carl Vanderhorn. 
She liked his size and appearance. She enjoyed taking care of all her young
male patients and showed them all the same good treatment.

 Nurse Devon unzipped Carl's jeans then slid them down past his 
knees. She lifted his feet and took the pants off then folded them and put 
them on the table.

 Next, she unbuttoned his shirt. Carl's chest was full and covered 
with fine hair. He was a handsome man alright, lull grown with a masculine 
shape any woman would want to fondle.

 When she had him down to his under shorts, nurse Devon hesitated. 
She didn't know if pulling them off was such a good idea. What if he 
objected, or better yet, what if she were caught? She checked the door 
again making sure all was clear then she decided to remove them.

 Slowly she slipped the underwear down around his hips and Carl lay 
perfectly still letting the woman undress him. The medication had relaxed 
him completely and he wasn't aware she was up to any wrong doing.

 As nurse Devon's hands glided over Carl's hips, he flinched. She 
was tickling him, something he wasn't used to feeling around his hip area. 
Carl never felt a woman's, hands on him before, at least not where nurse 
Devon had hers.

 Her eyes got as big as silver dollars when she saw his limp dick. 
It was bigger than her boyfriends when he was rock hard. Miss Devon 
wondered how large the thing might get with a little stroking.

 She checked the door again then sat down to experiment. She decided
to give Carl a rub-down. The lotion was cold and Carl moaned as she applied
it to his stomach but soon the heat from her palm made everything alright 
and Carl lay back enjoying the treatment.

 Miss Devon rubbed his stomach with tiny circles getting closer to 
his cock with every round. She tickled his belly button then his sides and 
when her palm edge brushed to his dick, Carl groaned slightly. He wanted 
her to continue.

 His legs spread apart letting her know how much he liked the 
rubbing and nurse Devon smiled letting her fingers make their way lower to 
his groin.

 She cupped her hand and grabbed his balls. Carl moaned when the 
warm palm held them. He'd never felt a female hand on his nuts before and 
it felt better than he imagined.

 "Is everything alright?" she asked with a whisper. Carl nodded. His
breathing increased and soon he was squirming in his bed.

 Nurse Devon had one palm rubbing his dick and the other his balls. 
She worked him over gently letting the blood fill his cock shaft and as it 
grew and grew, she watched with awe. Never, in all her years as a nurse, 
had she seen such a huge dong. It seemed to stretch halfway up his stomach.
Nurse Devon rubbed the foreskin of Carl's cock up and down. She closed her 
fist then coated the thick shank with lotion making her movements sensual 
and slow. Carl was in heaven with nurse Devon's touch. She was tenderly but
firmly massaging his cock and it felt wonderful.

 When Carl began to respond to her touch, nurse Devon lowered her 
mouth to it. She took the head inside sucking it in past the rim. Her wet 
tongue licked all over the tip of his dick. She tried to force it inside 
his piss slit but it wouldn't go. Carl was loving the feeling. Between the 
pill he'd taken and nurse Devon's hot lips, his cock was growing steadily 
Carl was groggy. He couldn't see what was happening but he could feel it. 
The relaxed feeling in his body made him close his eyes and feel the 
excitement nurse Devon brought.

 When she started sucking his shaft, Carl couldn't hold back. His 
hips moved to her mouth and he humped his ass up and down in the bed hoping
to drive her soft hot mouth further down. Nurse Devon sucked in every inch 
she was able but her mouth was no match for the size of the man. He was 
huge, Thick shank of meat with large bulging veins and a big helmet with 
well defined rim. His was a cock supreme, the royal cock. It was a man's 
penis, no question, all meat and all ready.

 Carl pumped nurse Devon's mouth. His balls swelled then tightened 
and his pulse raced. He was getting head and loving it. She loved it too, 
feeling the fullness of the man inside her. Nurse Devon wanted to climb up 
on him and ram his cock up her soaking slit. She quickly pulled up her 
uniform to reveal a garter belt and stockings but no panties.

 She learned long ago to be prepared for every shift.

 She mounted the man then let his rod slip into her hole. It was 
heaven feeling her hot wet box sliding down over his shaft. Carl thought of
Miranda's cunt and how it made him feel at the movie house. He wondered how
she was? Where she was? He wanted to see her again and feel her silky cunt 
tucking up and down over his long meat pole.

 Carl's hands held nurse Devon's hips. He drove the pole deep into 
her slit and she took every inch. His balls ached with cum and just as it 
was about to explode, Miranda came in the room.

 She froze at the doorway watching nurse Devon's tiny ass humping up
and down on Carl's cock. She could see the woman's ass cheeks slamming 
against his balls, and Carl, he was humping it into nurse Devon as fast as 
he could move. Miranda was shocked at the sight.

 Carl let out a moan when his dick exploded with spray. His cock 
convulsed sending a torrent of shimmering cum into Miss Devon's slit. He 
pulled her body onto his rod and held it there until every drop of the jism
squirted into her slick canal.

 Nurse Devon climbed off carefully. She didn't want to startle Carl 
or make him flinch from her movements and when she put down her dress and 
started for the bathroom, she saw Miranda at the foot of the bed.

 "Who are you?" Devon asked.

 "I'm Carl's girlfriend." Miranda said, glaring at the lady.

 "Oh, well, he's resting now, as you can see."

 "Miranda?" Carl asked with a smile. "What are you doing here? I 
thought you'd be home asleep by now."

 "What were you doing, Carl?" Miranda asked.

 "The nurse fucked me." he stated. That was the thing about Carl, he
was direct and honest. It didn't matter what the subject, he'd tell it like
it was. Miranda couldn't get angry with him because he was so honest. She 
was annoyed however but mostly with the nurse.

 "I'll see to it his needs are met from now on, nurse. You may go." 
Miranda snapped, and nurse Devon stepped into the bathroom.

 "I came to see if you're alright, Carl?" she said, sitting next to 
him on the bed.

 "Better now." Carl said, and Miranda wasn't sure what he meant. 
Better now that he was resting in the hospital and had been given some 
drugs or better now because Nurse Good-Body just cleaned his pipes.

 "How do you mean?" she asked.

 "Just better. I feel fine now. I'll probably go home tomorrow." 
Carl said, then thought about that. Home where, he thought, to his father 
and mothers place? Somehow that didn't seem like the right thing to do.

 "Well, that's another reason why I stopped by, Carl. I wanted to 
say good-bye." The room went silent. Carl felt his heart sinking when 
Miranda spoke the words. Where was she going that a goodbye was necessary?

 "Where?" he blurted.

 "West."

 "Your family's place?"

 "Yes."

 "But, Miranda, what about us?"

 "You don't need me, Carl, look at you. Even the nurses are 
clammering for you. You'll get over me in no time." Carl sat up in bed. He 
didn't want to get over Miranda. He wanted to marry Miranda and have 
babies, and live in a house with a white picket fence, and have a dog and a
cat. He didn't want nurse Devon, or any other hot cunt babe. He wanted 
Miranda Saunderson, the most beautiful woman in the world.

 "You can't, Miranda."

 "But, I am."

 "No, please." he begged.

 "Carl, I have to."

 "Why?"

 "Because, that's why. I just can't stay here anymore." Miranda 
thought about her life in Hendersonville and the more she remembered of it 
the stronger her desire became to get out. Jan Feldon was using her, the 
men she brought home used her, even Carl would eventually wind up using 
her. She had to get away.

 "Please, Miranda, don't leave me. I love you."

 "Carl, you just think you love me, look at you. You can have any 
woman you want. You have looks, personality, you've got a great cock and a 
ton of money to live happily ever after. You don't need me."

 "But I want to live happily ever after with you." he pleaded.

 "Look, I didn't come to discuss this, just to tell you good-bye." 
Miranda got up then leaned over and kissed his forehead. She was going west
and nothing anyone would say could stop her.

 "I hope you get out soon, Carl, and I hope you have a happy life. 
Good luck."

 "Miranda, wait, please, don't do this." Carl jumped up from his bed
but felt too weak from the sex with nurse Devon to take a step. His legs 
were shaking and his knees gave way. He had to lay down again. He called to
Miranda from his bed but she wouldn't turn around. She took a deep breath 
and left the room.

 "Nurse, Devon! Nurse Devon!" Carl yelled.

 "What is it honey?" she asked, stepping from the bathroom.

 "I have to catch Miranda, nurse Devon, please. Don't let her get 
away."

 She had been listening to their conversation and heard about Carl's
money. Nurse Devon wasn't about-to go chasing another woman for this man. 
She planned to snag him for herself.

 "Now there honey pie, I'm here for you. Let her go, Carl. If she 
loved you she'd be here. This Miranda obviously cares more about herself 
than she does for you. You let her go, honey and you and me will take care 
of each other."

 Carl had no choice but to do what nurse Devon told him. She 
wouldn't go after Miranda and he couldn't. He plopped back in the bed then 
stared at the ceiling.

 "Carl, didn't you like the fun we just had?" Devon asked.

 "Sure, I did."

 "Well, why the long face?"

 "You're my nurse, Miss Devon, Miranda was my girl."

 "Nurses are somebody's girl too, Carl. I'd like to be yours."

 
 
 * * * * *

 When Carl got home from the hospital the house felt eerie. It was 
dark and damp and the air hung with memories. Carl couldn't stand being 
there, not after what Jesse had done. He had to take a motel and sell the 
place.

 Christie Devon came with him to the Realtor's office. She wanted to
help Carl through his problems and see to it he got a square deal. Christie
spent all her spare time with Carl. She wanted his cock and his money, just
like Jesse told him, but Carl didn't see that. He saw a sweet helpful lady 
trying to make him feel good and help him with his money.

 Once the house sold, Christie helped Carl find an apartment. She 
spent his money to buy furniture then spent more of it to buy him a new 
car. She used a little of the money to buy clothes for herself, but 
Christie Devon told him they were for his benefit. Carl didn't mind. He 
didn't need money. He needed Miranda and without her, everything seemed a 
waste.

 He thought about Miranda night and day. He even went to the house 
and spoke with Jan. She gave him Miranda's address but not before asking 
him in for a drink. Jan tried with all her sensual powers to get Carl in 
the sack but he couldn't, not after kissing Miranda in that house.

 Carl went back to his apartment and found Christie cooking supper. 
She'd all but moved in and he figured it was just as well. If he couldn't 
have Miranda he may as well settle for Christie. She wasn't that bad 
anyway. She had a pretty face and a nice wet tight cunt to fuck.

 After supper Carl proposed and Christie accepted. She was overjoyed
and he was happy for her, but his own feelings were a different story. He 
still wanted Miranda.

 Over the next several weeks, Christie made preparations for their 
wedding. She hired the photographer, ordered the invitations, ordered the 
cake. She made all the church arrangements and even handled arrangements 
for Carl's bachelor party. He didn't know any one to invite so Christie 
arranged a gathering of all her old flames.

 Every man at the bachelor party had tucked Christie at one time or 
the other but Carl didn't mind hearing them talk about it. He didn't love 
the girl so it didn't bother him. Christie was just that kind of girl, he 
figured. She needed men and lots of them. He couldn't see himself starting 
a family with her but if he couldn't get the one he wanted he'd take what 
he could get.

 The wedding day arrived. Carl was standing in the church waiting 
for the ritual to begin and he was wondering about Miranda. He could see 
her riding her daddy's horses and wearing tight jeans and boots. It turned 
him on just thinking about it. He wanted her more than ever. Christie was 
preparing to make the walk. She didn't waste a minute humping half the 
ushers the night before, after all, Carl was her meal ticket and stud 
performer, nothing more. Christie wasn't in love with the man, just his 
assets.

 They played the music and the bride marched down the aisle being 
given away by none other than her last boyfriend. She did look lovely, long
flowing hair, not as pretty as Miranda's, and big brown eyes, but no where 
near the beauty of Miranda's. Christie was a sexy little tart, but no where
near as mysterious as Miranda, and as Carl watched her approach, he felt 
his heart die.

 "Dearly beloved." the preacher began. The room became a blur to 
Carl. He was losing his hearing. The minister's lips were moving but he 
couldn't make out the sound.

 "We are gathered here today in the sight of God ... " Carl couldn't
stand it. He had to get out of there. The guests would faint if he ran out 
but he'd faint if he stayed.

 Christie was all smiles. She was marrying one hundred thirty some 
odd grand with a huge pleasure pole and it didn't matter to her what 
anybody thought. All the men in the room were her ex-lovers and they all 
knew why she chose Carl.

 "To join together this man and this woman Carl felt faint. He was 
sweating like a stuck pig. His life flashed in front of his eyes. For a 
minute, he was back in the store gazing out through his pass through window
at the only girl he ever wanted. She was smiling and wearing that short 
black mini she used to wear. His heart felt heavy thinking about marrying 
another. He couldn't ... he wouldn't!

 "In holy matrimony." the preacher said, and Carl said no.

 "Excuse me." he said to the reverend. "Ah, excuse me, there's a 
small problem we need to take care of before the ceremony goes any 
further." Carl said. The preacher was stunned but willing to listen. He was
used to something going wrong at every wedding because something always 
did. This was the first time he'd been interrupted however, except that one
time when Janet Dickson's father objected on the grounds that Walter was 
gay. Mrs. Dickson had a fainting spell when she found out how her husband 
knew. The preacher listened to Carl voice his concerns.

 "Ah, I realize we've all gathered here today to witness a joining 
of two people but there's a problem with all of this." he said. "You see, 
Pm in love with another woman."

 The room was so silent you could hear a fart and Carl let the 
stillness lag for several seconds before going on.

 "I met her last year while working in my father's store. I fell in 
love with her immediately. She's beautiful, ah, oh, not to say Christie 
isn't, but Miranda is spectacular, whereas Christie here is pretty."

 "Carl!" Christie yelled. "What are you doing?"

 "We can't do this, Christie, I don't love you."

 "So what?" she snapped. "What makes you think I love you?"

 "You're marrying me, Christie?"

 "So, you're marrying me too."

 "But, see, that's the thing, Christie, I'm not marrying you. I want
to marry Miranda." Carl said.

 "Oh, tuck this, get up here and shut your mouth. We've paid for 
this wedding and it's cost a mint too. Just forget Miranda, Carl. The girl 
isn't good for you." Christie tugged at his clothes trying to force him 
back to the alter but Carl wouldn't budge. He made up his mind and that was
that. He wanted Miranda Saunderson and he was going to find her.

 "No, Christie, I won't. I won't marry a woman I don't love."

 "Please, Carl, you're just scared. All men get scared when they 
come to the alter. Just take a deep breath and you'll be fine."

 THE END

 Author's Note

 Cornelia Q. Kissinger is my name, and I hope you've enjoyed reading
my latest erotic tome. I know I enjoyed writing it! I get so turned on when
I sit at my typewriter each evening, in front of a crackling fire, and tap 
away, capturing my most lurid and exciting sexual fantasies on paper!

 I always type in the nude.

 Not only do I find it more comfortable, but when I feel at loss for
words, I can just glance at the mirror on the wall, and inspiration courses
through me!

 I'm quite a voluptuous woman. I'm twenty-eight years old with long 
blue black hair and almond shaped violet eyes.

 My figure is shaped like a perfect hour glass, and I'm quite proud 
of my enormous, jutting, milky breasts.

 I've been writing smutty fiction since I was a senior at Vassar.

 Not only did this activity prove to be very lucratic, but also very
rewarding.

 I love my work, and I'm well paid for doing it! My husband, Lannie,
owns a construction company just outside of Butte, Montana.

 He's an incredibly hot man, and I'm still as much turned on by him 
as I was on our wedding night five years ago!

 He's a big, brawny, outdoors type with a macho, hairy body and ten 
inches of fat, throbbing cockmeat.

 Lannie loves to read my novels.

 In fact, every evening when he gets home from work, Lannie takes a 
long shower, slips on his bathrobe, and sits by the fire, reading the pages
I have written during the day.

 Invariably, he gets a huge, throbbing hard-on.

 And I take a break from my typewriter to kneel between his strong, 
hairy legs, open his robe, and wrap my lips hungrily around his rigid, 
pulsing member.

 Lannie loves it that I'm so sexually uninhibited. We always try to 
spice up our sex life with novel new things.

 Our favorite pastime is getting some third person to join in.

 Sometimes, we enjoy having a lovely young mulatto woman over, and 
Lannie and I absolutely devour her luscious body before Lannie tucks us 
both.

 On other occasions, Lannie brings home one or two of his strapping 
construction workers and watches while they tuck the bejangles out of me!

 Lannie loves taking photos of me having sex with other men, and I 
guess I'm kind of an exhibitionist that way, too!

 Isn't life a blast?


THE END
