Chapter 10

"All right," I replied. "First thing's first. What would you do to get off this rock?"

Frieda blinked. Then she thought for a moment. Finally, she assumed a rueful expression. "Look, Jack, I'm really starting to like you -- you get more impressive by the minute -- but I'm not Beth. At this point, you could tie a piece of twine around her neck and she would follow you everywhere if, when and until you got lucky and stumbled into a pickup -- no offense Sweetie! -- but I'm not built that way. I've been fooled before, and I just can't lock myself down for a maybe. If it happens and we are together or can get that way, I'll be the first one to get naked and jump on your cock, but for now I need to hold my options open."

I settled back in my seat. "That's fair." Unsurprising, too -- Frieda wouldn't be big on trust.

Frieda turned to Beth, "Sweetie, I wasn't trying to be mean. Jack, here, more than rates anything you need to do to keep him. I'd marry him, if I were you, while you wait. But I can't stick myself out there on a maybe and run the chance that I'll be in the Ladies Room when the walls come down -- or that Jack might just decide I'm not as hot as some other chick on site at the last second. I'll be happy to hang out with you guys, and if it happens, I'll want to interview, but I can't go joining a harem in waiting..."

Beth seemed to take this in stride. She reached over and put her hand atop mine and asked, "Jack, can I handle this?"

More or less baffled, I said, "Sure..."

Beth pulled her purse onto the table and reached into it, pulling out a piece of paper. She handed it to Frieda. "Read this." Then she calmly placed her purse back on the floor.

Frieda unfolded the paper. It took maybe two seconds for her eyes to pop. Then she looked up at me. "I've seen a couple of these. Is it genuine?"

I cocked my head. "I don't know -- what is it?"

Frieda passed the paper -- and I recognized it instantly; it was the document I'd pulled up on the computer at Beth's that morning -- her status notification. "Yes." I handed it back.

Frieda looked a little shaky. "It says she's already -- you're already..."

"Yes." I nodded.

Frieda picked up her margarita glass and took a big slug of it, then put it down and played for a moment with a water ring on the table. "Could I, like, get a dog collar?"

I grinned. "Spikes, or those diamond-shaped metal studs?"

"Oh, spikes, of course." She began to smile.

"You'll have to take it off if I decide to suck your neck, or whatever," I teased.

"That's fine, I'm sure..." She drew some more pictures in the water. "What am I signing up for, exactly?"

"The standard concubine thing," I replied, pulling no punches. "Sex on demand -- and anything else I want, for that matter. Kids. In return, you come with us when I'm done here and I support and protect you and give you a place to live -- until we irritate each other beyond tolerance, at which point, I try to find you another place to live." I paused. "I'm doing this for Beth; I don't promise love, although I love Beth and I love both of my other concubines -- it's way too early for that. But if it works, it works."

Beth looked unhappy, but Frieda said, "That seems fair. No promises you can't keep."

"Exactly," I agreed. "I'm being as honest and straightforward with you as I know how. There are no guarantees -- I can't predict the future. But I meet my obligations."

Frieda glanced down at the paper. "This was effective last night."

"That's right."

"When are you leaving?"

"Saturday."

"If I say yes, when is it effective?"

"As soon as you pass the test drive," I told her. "One of those will be in process wherever it is they are generated before we leave the building."

Frieda nodded; clearly, she EXPECTED a test drive. "Okay."

"So we come back to my original question," I murmured, "What would you do to get off this rock?"

Frieda looked me in the eye and declaimed flatly, "Anything. Name it."

"Are you a virgin?"

"Technically -- in one hole. My stepdad and his brother left my pussy alone," Frieda replied. Beth gasped. "Probably because I wasn't quite eleven when Mom filed for divorce, and she warned him that if he gave us trouble he would go away for pedophilia."

"You were still lucky, I bet," I replied.

"You're not surprised."

"I've seen your CAP scores -- or had them interpreted for me, anyway," I informed her. "I don't want to be seen as an abuser; would you give it to me?"

"You're fine -- we understand each other. You're not trying to tell me you love me and that I ought to be nice to you," Frieda replied in a flat voice. "I'd be happy to fuck you."

"God..." Beth covered her face.

"It's all right, Sweetie," Frieda told her, patting her shoulder. "Jack is handling things just right. He's not being mean -- he's telling me what I need to hear -- straight up, the way I need to hear it." She eyed me. "You know a shrink?"

"I know an AI." I paused. "I could pass on the test drive, but that would be doing both of us a disservice, wouldn't it?"

Frieda smiled ferally. "Yeah. You wouldn't know if I was any good, and I would feel like a charity case -- like I hadn't earned it. What do you want? Name it. The cherry is no problem -- I've been wanting to get rid of that for years."

"How's your head?" I asked.

"I'm out of practice -- but I'm told it's like riding a bicycle," Frieda replied, her eyes on mine.

<From her statements, it is a high-probability that she has had no sexual contact with a male since she was ten,> the AI supplied.

'Tell me something I DON'T know!' I thought, but didn't bother to subvocalize. I patted the bench on my left. "Get naked and climb up here and show Beth how to give a blowjob." I patted the bench on my right. "Beth, you get naked, too, and climb up here to learn how."

Beth got big eyes and glanced around, but Frieda didn't. She threw her tank top over her head and regarded Beth, "Sweetie, I can walk, but YOU have NO CHOICE! Get moving -- your man gave you an instruction!" She undid her jeans and stepped out of them.

"Jack?" Beth gulped.

"Now, Babe," I said gently. "Don't worry -- I can empty the place if I have to. Nobody is going to do anything." I chucked her under the chin.

"Yes, Jack." Beth bucked up, stood up, and started getting out of her clothing. Frieda was already crawling along the bench and reaching for my zipper. I shucked out of my pants, pulling my stinger from the hidden holster at the small of my back and putting it beside me on the bench.

"Ooooo! Nice!" Frieda collected my somewhat lank but already erecting cock. I've seen porn flicks where the guys start out dead in the water and take forever to get an erection, even while being attended to -- and I've never understood it. I get hard just thinking about having a woman touch my cock -- never mind having one actually DO it... I was like stone before Frieda had jacked it twice! She looked up at Beth and said, "You hit the jackpot here, Sweetie -- this thing is BEAUTIFUL! And a good two inches longer than Uncle Bart's..." Beth was just crawling onto the bench as Frieda rolled her lips over it. Releasing it with a pop, Frieda said, "Cut, too! No nasty goo under the foreskin..." She rolled her lips up and down it a couple of times -- they felt MARVELOUS! -- and then she murmured, "Yeah, just like riding a bicycle..." -- then she stuck her face in my pubes, swallowing it to the root!

"Holy shit!" I gasped. While she was down there, she proceeded to swallow, too!

Frieda popped back off it, smiling. "Am I passing?"

"Oh, yeah..." I gasped. Dottie and Tina didn't do THIS -- maybe because I hadn't had their throats modified...

"Step-Daddy and Uncle Bart weren't this big -- but I was a lot younger, too, so I had to learn deep throat," she confided. "It still works, I see..."

"I hope they're under a jail somewhere," I croaked, "but..."

Frieda smiled. "Yeah -- you reap the benefits..." Turning her attention to Beth, she intoned, "Come closer, Sweetie, and let Auntie Frieda teach you all about sucking dicks..."

I settled back, slouching against the bench, my eyes glazed. Frieda's head would bob, and then Beth's... Frieda would make comments like "See this spot? It's REAL sensitive..." or "Suck, but just enough to bring your cheeks in over your teeth -- otherwise, it's too rough for him and too much work for you..." or "Use that tongue! Your pussy doesn't have one, which is probably too bad..." and "Ease up going in -- rest your mouth. But tighten up coming back and give the ridge at the back of the head a workout..." Frieda's answer to deep throat was, "Don't try to do this -- get the basics down first. But you can see that it IS possible..." -- and her throat worked over my glans. Heavenly...

The bartender minced over and stood wiping his hands. "Hey, uh..."

I eyed him. "I'm guessing that this isn't a whole lot different than what would have happened if those two had won," I opined. The guy grimaced; I knew I had him. "Except maybe you'd have gotten some, huh?" I guessed.

He grimaced again. "Yeah."

Frieda's head popped up. "You had probably fifty opportunities, and you blew it, Buster! Now he owns me -- and YOU'RE out of luck! HA HA HA!" she announced sarcastically.

I shrugged. "When she's right, she's right... Audience participation tonight will be limited to viewing. Send the waitress over, will you? I need another beer."

He didn't want to hear that -- but I didn't give a damn. I was about eight seconds from getting a nut in Frieda's throat... Holding her head in place, I grunted, "Finish me!" She had no problem with the instruction, taking me deep and swallowing until she knew I'd hit the point of no return, then backing off to take my seed in her mouth. I hunched and grunted and gushed and enjoyed it thoroughly; when I was done, she backed off smiling with her lips closed and beckoned Beth over. Beth leaned up and Frieda locked lips with her; Beth grunted in surprise and I realized that she was taking delivery of a snowball.

"Good stuff, huh?" Frieda grinned, backing off.

Beth gulped and nodded, then grinned back. "Thtickth in my bratheth..."

"It's a snack for later," Frieda chuckled.

The waitress showed up about then. "You wanted something?" she asked faintly.

"Another beer for me and two more margaritas for my girls," I replied.

"I didn't expect this, earlier," she muttered.

"It just happened," I replied, "but it was an outgrowth of the earlier incident. They tended to do this kind of thing, didn't they?" I asked, referring to Prince Charming and company.

"Well, yeah." Clearly, it embarrassed the woman.

"And management tolerates it."

The woman nodded.

"Yet you work here..."

"I..."

"Bring us our drinks, Honey." I waved her off.

Frieda, now sitting on the bench to my left, muttered, "You were rough on her."

"When did you see them pass around that girl?" I asked.

"It's been months."

"How many times do you figure it's happened?"

"Several," Frieda admitted.

"And she's still working here," I accused. "She's a cocktail waitress -- she can find work elsewhere. She likes it. She likes to watch. The bartender is probably fucking her."

Frieda shrugged, grinning. "So she has issues. Sounds like concubine material." Eyeing me sidelong, she asked, "So, did I pass?"

I rubbed her shoulder. "You pass. Welcome to sex slavery."

"Promise me you'll fuck me soon."

"You're not allowed to make demands," I reminded her.

"Yes, Master," she grinned unrepentant. "Can I beg a lot?"

"That's allowed." I tugged Beth closer to me and kissed her on the neck. Frieda was more outgoing; I would need to pay attention to Beth to make sure she wasn't eclipsed.

The waitress came back, eyes downcast, and began placing drinks on the table. "Can I play with her?" Frieda whispered.

"Okay."

Frieda turned and unloaded on the waitress. "Stay a while, Honey. Pull up a chair -- we know you like to watch." The waitress froze, looked around -- toward the bar, in particular -- and dragged a chair around to face us.

I made sure I had a nipple in each hand; Beth had picked up my stinger and was holding it in her lap. "Don't pull the trigger," I whispered in her ear, "You won't like the result."

"Are you married, Honey, or do you just wear that ring to keep the flies away?" Frieda asked. "Where's your old man?"

The waitress flicked a glance at me before replying, "God knows. Technically, I'm still married -- but it's only because I can't find him to serve papers. He hasn't done nothing for me for a while." I guess I should describe the woman: Black, busty, a little thick, but not huge. Tall. Nice legs for a black woman; they tend not to be shaped the same as whites -- fewer curves, or different ones, anyway. Her skirt was demure for length, but molded itself to a nice, padded ass. She was right around thirty, at a guess -- maybe just short of it. She wasn't done up for the bar only -- more a working waitress rig that would allow her to work the family-oriented restaurant area -- but her assets were on display. She had a nice face -- the nose wasn't as big as usual, although it was a bit short. She had puffy cheeks and big lips, but they made her look a bit younger than she was.

Meanwhile, Frieda continued the interrogation. "How many kids?"

"Three. A boy and two girls. How did you know?"

"You've got the look." Frieda paused, then let go the next zinger, "So how often do you have to fuck the bartender?"

The waitress took it between the eyes; her lips pursed and her eyes widened and she rocked like she'd been hit. Then she dropped her eyes to the table top and muttered, "Depends. He likes white chicks better -- and the other waitress is white. Still, she isn't on and you've probably stirred him up -- I'll probably have to give him a blowjob, anyway, tonight. Otherwise? Every couple of weeks. Longer than that if Troy and Tony drum up anything. Like I said, he prefers white chicks." The bartender was a beefy bald guy with a moustache -- a white guy.

"Is it a problem?" Frieda asked.

"Not usually." The way she clammed up, you knew there was more.

"Come on, Honey..."

"I'm gonna want more tonight," the waitress whispered, blushing an eggplant shade.

Frieda giggled and turned to me, "You like chocolate, Jack?"

Caught short, I muttered, "Don't know -- never tried it. But I've got my hands full." Then I sat there reprocessing images of the waitress' expressions -- hope, then disappointment.

Frieda shrugged. "What's your name, Honey?"

"Tara."

"You like your men to be able to handle themselves, don't you, Honey?" Frieda pressed.

"Yes."

"In fact, I bet you like it for them to handle YOU..."

"I... Gotta go. Other customers..." Tara stammered and got up quickly. She was across the room in a flash.

Frieda leaned against my shoulder and giggled. "How many women can you have, anyway, Jack?"

I blinked. "You know, I really haven't asked. I'm at four now."

"Maybe you should," Frieda opined. "How many do you think you can handle?" She started jacking me again.

I thought about it. There were days when I left Tina and Dottie alone -- usually for their sakes. I'd been known to do both of them -- twice -- but it wasn't a normal thing. If I had more, I would fuck more -- but I was committed to two more already. Was that enough? Frieda's hand on my cock was probably skewing things... "Stop that, you! You're distracting me!"

"Yes... Master..." Frieda grinned from ear to ear.

"Drink up -- we're about done here, I think," I announced. "We can relax, so don't bolt them, but in ten or fifteen minutes..."

"Okay," Frieda replied. "We can watch the boys watch us. Beth, Sweetie, wiggle your shoulders." She cackled at the response; there were at least a half-dozen sets of male eyes tracking the girls' every move, and several of them reacted significantly.

Beth was aghast. "Why would they look at these floppy things?"

"It's how we're wired, Babe, it's how we're wired..." I grinned and mauled one of those 'floppy things,' enjoying it immensely.

It was with some reluctance that I bid the girls to go off to the Ladies Room and re-don their clothing a few minutes later; it would have been fun to just walk out with them naked, but it would have been trouble all around, I figured. While I waited, I paid the tab; Tara minced over with it and I asked her when she was on next -- not that I had any serious plans. I thought to check with the AI, too, 'How many concubines am I authorized?'

<As many as you can successfully integrate into your harem,> the AI replied. <Four does not appear to be the limit at this time. It is highly possible that Tara Kingsley would integrate smoothly.>

I limited myself to a noncommittal grunt. The girls came out and I waved them toward the door. The bartender had the balls to call out, "Come back and see us!"

Once in the car and moving, I asked Beth, "Is there any reason we need to go to your parents' place tonight?"

Beth shrugged. "I don't know, Jack. Daddy might need to talk to you..."

"Hadn't thought of that," I mused. "Okay, we pick up the cars and convoy to your place. But we may be sleeping at mine." Beth reached across to rub my leg and I returned the favor when driving allowed. After a bit another set of hands came over the back of the seat to rub my chest. "Sit back and wear your seatbelt," I ordered Frieda, "We don't want to lose you because I got distracted and we got run over and you weren't belted in."

"No blowjobs in the car, then?" Frieda teased.

"Not while moving, anyway."

I had no problem compartmentalizing the whole Confederacy pickup issue while at work. I did what I needed to do and made a few preparations here and there -- including a carefully worded email to my youngest daughter Judith, and then, after some thought, another to Maureen; since Maureen hadn't made pickup yet, she might as well be available for this one. Neither of them said anything startling, of course -- just that we were planning a family get-together for Friday night and Saturday morning and I really wanted them to come and meet Beth's new fiancé. Even knowing as little about women as I do, I figured that the first part of the request would get a roll of the eyes, but the second would bring them running...

The other item on the agenda was a perusal of the girls at the office -- with new eyes, as it were. The knowledge that Vera would decapitate me and desecrate my still-flopping body if she caught me fooling around with another woman had kept me from anything serious in the way of sexual fantasies regarding the staff in my office -- and to be fair, it wasn't hard. But there WERE a couple of young research assistants who might measure up...

Britney Shelton, for instance: Although not amazing, one way or the other, she was decidedly nondescript, with hair just the brown side of red. She switched back and forth between contact lenses and eyeglasses on a schedule I'd never been able to determine. She might even be a bit thin -- she had that bowed leg thing. Cute she was, without being wildly exciting. More important, probably, I fancied that I held some interest for her -- although I was careful not to encourage it. She had a fine, sharp mind; if I got to continue my work or something similar, she would be a valuable asset.

I must have telegraphed something; she looked up from crunching the reams of emissions data we had been given from a system with a known Sa'arm incursion -- looking for something resembling communications -- and queried, "Doctor?"

I waved her off. "Sorry, woolgathering."

"Anything I can help with?"

"Memories of youth and folly."

"You make it sound as if you were old," she murmured, with a smile, eyeing me sidelong.

"Compared, say, to you?" I retorted. I surprised myself, that was the closest I'd ever come to a flirt.

She realized it, too! "It's purely physical," she replied, "and easily fixed."

I smiled ruefully. "Mental, too -- a recognition of lost opportunities and missed cues. We get wiser too late."

"Nonsense!" Britney retorted. "All right, age IS in the mind -- especially nowadays -- but you haven't missed anything -- or you don't have to."

I realized that I'd been right -- she WAS interested! I backpedaled, "I have a spouse with firm opinions on where I should be and what I should be doing -- and she would take a dim view of my returning to adolescence."

Britney looked away. "She's a modern woman. Surely she realizes that under the current circumstances she may have to learn to share -- or face the possibility of being dispensed with..."

"True," I agreed, "but it won't be graceful, and it won't be a moment before she has to." I withdrew as gracefully as I could at that point.

I need to say here that I was perfectly happy with my lot. I was hopelessly inept, socially, and still a virgin right up to the day that Vera descended upon me while I was distractedly attempting to puzzle out the mysteries of separating the whites and colors at the university Laundromat, roped me and dragged me into her bed. Once captured, I placidly allowed her to lead me to the altar and apply the bridle and saddle -- and I hadn't lost by it. On that fateful Wednesday morning, the discovery that my eldest daughter was finally taken care of made everything perfect -- then the specter of my own extraction shook things up...

Now, extraction had always been a possibility, and the default option was to accept it -- but I hadn't gone hunting it because of Vera's lack of enthusiasm and the peripheral dread of the havoc the whole thing would wreak upon my domestic tranquility. In any scenarios I dreamed up, Vera and I would be together when the curtain dropped; I would give her a good shake, and we would move on... Frankly, scenarios where we weren't together were fraught with uncertainty -- even terror! The current circumstance was radically different than anything previously envisioned -- and not necessarily an improvement.

Vera and I had been together for nearly a quarter of a century -- and while the new had decidedly worn off, we were both somewhat broken in, if you catch my drift. Sex wasn't the nightly activity that it once had been, but that was a function of age and familiarity -- and of course, Vera's manipulations of supply to keep me 'a good boy.' Fine. When she wanted something -- something that happened with fair regularity -- the gates opened. On the other hand, my wife had good monetary sense and understood that 'buy now, pay later' didn't mean you NEVER paid, or that you didn't pay for the privilege. Her household management seldom required tuning and had managed to allow us to be reasonably independent, even on my meager means. We were comfortable; the impending adjustment to the matrix of duties and responsibilities inherent in our relationship was as daunting to me as it was to Vera.

Nonetheless, the change in circumstances sparked a certain quickening in me -- and in others, as they detected it. The gist of the fact that I had roused myself from dormancy apparently went through the female staff like wildfire; while I thought that I was being circumspect, apparently I might as well have been carrying a sign!

I work for a private research foundation associated with a university; everyone in our little group had at least a working idea of the CAP scores of the others, even though it was impolite to discuss it openly. Still, you could discern CAP score among the females by mode of dress, if nothing else -- not that anyone even closely approached the near nakedness of some of the more desperate denizens of more public venues. Even the older fifty-something assistants (whatever happened to the word 'secretary?') tended to go to some effort to display some décolletage -- or even a bit of thigh, if it was likely to be of benefit. A couple went too far, in my opinion -- but then, I was happily married to Vera, and as such well aware that tastes differ... When a woman goes to THAT much effort -- particularly in an environment where more wild clothing is frowned upon for one reason or another -- they tend to defeat the coverage efforts of what they ARE allowed to wear, to the point that accidents happen; I'd seen a few nipples on the odd occasion when a blouse that had been unbuttoned one button too far revealed the contents of a brassiere deliberately left loose. The scent of blood in the water sparked a series of wardrobe adjustments that nearly doubled the number of such happy accidents in a single afternoon!

I was having coffee in the break room at mid-afternoon when Leland Philpott sidled up to me and asked, "So, is that new after-shave on the market REALLY an aphrodisiac?"

"What? I've no idea what you're talking about!" I blustered.

"Come now," Leland snorted, sweeping his glance around the room -- which had at least four more females in it than the average for the periods when I decided to consume a bit of coffee. "SOMETHING you've said or done has half the female staff following you about and baying and spending time in the Ladies Room rolling up their skirts and lopping buttons off their blouses! Care to enlighten me?"

"I'm afraid I may have emitted an unguarded word or two in the presence of one of the research assistants," I admitted, "totally by accident."

"You flirted with some young thing?" Leland snorted. "Vera will have your head on a pike!"

"It was... accidental..."

"Nonetheless..." Leland swept his eye over the nearby collection of feminine pulchritude. "Despite the distinct personal danger to you, I'd be grateful if you kept them going for a couple of days..."

I chuckled and waved him off.

I went home at the regular time; Vera met at the door in a VERY fetching black baby-doll nightie and heels, holding a glass of wine. I was thunderstruck! "Where did THAT come from?" I asked, taking the glass and allowing Vera to take my laptop case from my nerveless fingers. Her nipples were up and poking the translucent fabric and her areolas, while crinkled, were still highly visible and the size of a silver dollar.

"We needed to update Beth's wardrobe for Jack, and I took the opportunity to do the same for you. You like?" She smiled widely.

"Very much!" I confirmed.

"I thought you might," she replied, her voice turning sultry as she moved in close.

I never even sipped the wine; in fact, I've no idea what I did with the glass! Five minutes later, we were in the bedroom; I was naked, and Vera had lost the tiny thong that came with her outfit and I was poised at her opening. Generally, Vera required cunnilingus to warm her up -- or perhaps it was just our agreed upon payment for my right to penetrate her -- but this evening she was hot and wet and ready without the usual foreplay; a good thing, since I, too, was somewhat pre-charged from events at work and her unprecedented display. I pressed my length home in her vagina with an urgency we hadn't managed to work up in some time, and the noises she made reminded me of our early years together when sex was entertainment and pleasure and joy for both of us, not mere release.

Afterward, when I'd rolled us over so that she wasn't crushed by my weight (odd, since she probably weighs more than I do), she kissed my neck and stroked my face and admitted softly, "I'm scared to death."

"So am I," I whispered back.

"It's different, though," she insisted, coming up on her elbows to engage my eyes with her own. "I've been, well, lax. I've abused you. And the price for me could be ugly. For you, it's just fear of the unknown."

"That assumes that I'm perfectly capable of operating on my own without your support," I insisted. "THAT is a fearsome thing!"

"Beth and I had a long talk," Vera muttered, "and I realized that I've been a fool and an idiot. I CAN be replaced... And you have ALWAYS been ultimately in charge."

"Really?" I blinked. "I hadn't noticed."

Vera smiled, somewhat tremulously. "Remember this morning? You put your foot down, and I came to heel. Whether I liked it or not was irrelevant. Thinking about it, I surfaced other times -- MANY other times -- when you exercised your authority. I just failed to recognize the fact."

I snorted, surprised. "Frankly, if asked, I couldn't have come up with a single incident -- but I know you are right, as usual, my love."

Vera drew patterns in my chest hair. "You see, we CAN do this -- we DO! I just have to break some bad habits..."

I pulled the face to mine and kissed her and she lay her head on my chest after for a few minutes before saying quietly, "Have you given any thought to whom you will select as your other woman?"