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Personal Examination


Dr. James Bock moped about the clinic, making everyone
feel even worse than they did anyway. All the women had loved
Janet. Long after she withdrew from the practice to bear and care
for her and James’s four children, she remained a mother hen to the
women of clinic staff. No one could understand why Janet allowed
herself to become obese; it seemed beyond even James’s ability to
control. Thin before her first pregnancy, she added more and more
weight as James Jr., Clive, Sophia, and Susana arrived in quick
succession. With increasing weight came less activity leading to
still more weight gain.

A heart attack, unexpected, massive, definitive had taken
her. James’s sadness affected Amaka most of all. As her culture
and human feeling directed, she had stepped in to see to James’s
and Janet’s children. The house Mamma kept for her and her
brood was small, but Mamma’s heart was large and she smothered
the little orphans with affection. They would be OK. It was James
that worried Amaka.

The relation between a man and woman is mysterious,
Amaka thought. “Good” marriages sometimes are hell from the
inside. Men and women cling to partners that “everyone” knows
are wrong for them, bound by love, desire, custom, who knows
what? Amaka did not pretend to know what had gone on between
James and Janet. I was another universe from the one she and
James inhabited. In theirs, James was her master, as he was
Janet’s, but they were also friends, business partners, lovers and
parents of her children. Amaka felt herself married to James even
though he went home to Janet every night and was married to
neither. James made love to Amaka at the office frequently,
usually more than once daily, more frequently, Amaka believed,
than he made love to Janet, especially after she grew fat. In a way
it was like the culture of her childhood homeland in which James
had Janet as his Senior wife and she was his Junior. wife. The
passion had gone from his relationship with Janet, only love, duty,
or whatever it was that bound him, lingered.

Amaka was, therefore, surprised that Janet’s death had so
devastated James. Only with immense will did he attend to clients,
leaving Amaka to do virtually all of the seduction and conditioning
of the women who continued to be sent to the clinic in increasing
numbers. Certainly it affected their love making. The joy, the
passion on the infrequent occasions was gone. Amaka felt James
had transferred to her the obligatory sex he had with his deceased
partner.

James stopped having sex with the other women of the
clinic completely. It hurt them all, but especially Suzie and
Megan, the youngest women who were highly sexed. Amaka
made a few adjustments in James’s conditioning of them so that
they could at least find some release in sex with each other, but she
could not erase their desire for James himself.

This could not go on. It would not be easy. She might not
succeed. But she had to try.

When James halfheartedly suggested sex with her in the
office the next Friday evening, Amaka for the first time said no.
She waited to see if he would take her. If he wished, he could fill
her with an overpowering desire that would make refusal
unthinkable. He could make her body move at his pleasure even if
her mind remained unconvinced. His did neither, but only looked
at her, puzzled.

“Pick me up at my house Saturday night at 8:00, darling.
I’ve made plans for dinner. It’s rather formal” Again Amaka
waited to see if he would go along. If he didn’t want to, he could
just make her forget all about the arrangements. She had guessed
right.

“OK. Why not?” James grinned almost shyly. It was the
first smile of any kind Amaka had seen since Janet’s death.

Saturday was a busy day. A lot was riding on this night,
the happiness not only of her and James, but of many others.
James could make many things right, or, if she failed, leave dozens
of people, himself included, in misery. Amaka was glad she was a
woman. She had the insight and, she hoped, the charms to make it
happen.

Amaka had concluded that James felt guilty about Janet’s
death, but perhaps even more about her life. He had used his
powers, not maliciously, but irresponsibly. He had only just
stumbled onto his strange ability when he met Janet. She was the
first woman whose life he had remade. Although Janet must have
loved James over and above his power over her and though she had
lived for the children she had with him, her life had been wrenched
too far from her own goals. James probably never thought he
would fall in love with the woman whose life he had turned upside
down. James could give her unbelievable pleasure, but he could
not make her totally happy. Now he never could.

Most of James clients were probably happier for his
interventions in their lives, but there were a few who had also
suffered from James’s use of his powers. Amaka suspected that
Janet’s death had reminded James of his culpability in those cases,
too. He needed to face what he had done, but he had to get beyond
it without hating himself. That was her task.

The element of surprise would be important. Fortunately,
James knew Amaka only as a beautiful, if exotic, woman who had
fallen somewhat accidentally into his power. Typically for a man,
he had not been too curious about the woman who had shared her
body with him for the last four years. It was time he learned some
things.

“I want him to fall in love me, Mamma,” Amaka explained.

“He already loves you, child.”

“That’s what he thinks, too, but not totally. I want it all.
Give me juju, Mamma.”

“It’s dangerous girl. Juju could make you evil and
manipulative.”

“No, Mamma. Just give me the good juju”

“Juju isn’t good or bad, Amaka. It draws its power from
what is in your heart. If your motives are even a little bad, the juju
will be evil and that evil will be multiplied many fold.”

“I have to try, Mamma.”

“Oh, Amaka! Are you sure?”

“I’m sure, Mamma.”

“Amaka you are my first born daughter. I can’t believe
anything bad of you. If you want to use juju, I will do as you say.”

Mamma went to the corner and pulled a key from her
bosom to unlock the ancient chest. Carefully she withdrew several
small carved wooden objects. Amaka knew what she had to do
and had brought out candles, arranging them in an ellipse with a
mat in the center. Amaka stripped and lay naked, perfectly still on
the mat, waiting. Mamma went round the ring of candles, lighting
each and repeating a chant. Then she danced around the circle of
burning tapers, rolling her ample hips and singing softly, before
stepping across the invisible threshold. With great precision,
Mamma passed one and another of the idols over Amaka’s body.
The final one she passed three times around each breast and three
times around Amaka’s mound, intoning the age-old ritual. When
she finished Amaka was deeply entranced.

Mamma smiled down at her sleeping daughter, the mother
of her four grandchildren, still her little girl. “Time to get up,
honey. Let’s do something with that hair. You need some
practical juju, too.”

It hurt when Mamma knotted her hair into scores of tight
plaits. Into each she wove in a piece or two of tinsel. It was a five
hour job, but when she finished, both women were pleased with the
results. Amaka went to her bath and soaked a long while, allowing
the oils and unguents to be absorbed by her soft skin. When she
emerged, she shown.

Naked, Amaka went to her closet and removed a garment
from a back shelf where it had remained for years, awaiting such
an occasion. The noble fabric responded to the touch of an iron
and became as new. Amaka slipped on a diaphanous blue brassiere
and a pair of navy thong panties and began to dress. Carefully she
wound the Ukmoh around her shapely hips and drew the top in the
same fabric over her breasts and shoulders. It took several
adjustments to get the scalloped hem even with her ankle bones as
Mamma had taught her. Mamma helped coil the matching Ubaletu
around her shining black plaits and fluffed it until it added four or
five inches to her height. Amaka examined herself in the mirror
approvingly while Mamma looked on with pride. The craft of five
hundred generations of African women had perfected this look.
She would be irresistible

Mamma opened the door for James and ushered him to the
living room to wait. Perhaps she was unaware of the psychology
of making a man a little impatient before Amaka made a dramatic
entrance. James was just slightly startled when Amaka greeted
him from the doorway, “Good evening, darling.”

James was stunned. Amaka had been working for him over
four years. He had been fucking her exactly as long, although they
had been making love for a shorter period. He had seem her daily.
He had seen her in cute mini skirts, in elegant tailored suits, in the
sexy smocks she wore around the office, in hot pants and bikinis,
and of course in nothing at all. Now as looked at her, it was if he
had never seen her before, never.

Could this be the woman he worked with every day?
Standing before him was a princess or a queen. An empress or a
goddess! James could not take his eyes off the vision that had
addressed him. Speech was impossible. His eyes caressed her
from head to foot. The garment she wore was a deep yet somehow
brilliant blue, a blue of sky that can only be seen from high
mountains at twilight. Unsurprisingly, in that crepuscular
background, gold studs and inlays sparkled like the first stars in the
firmament when the sum has not yet yielded his dominion to night.
A headdress of the same resplendent cloth adorned her head. The
light caught and thrown back by the inlays made it a diadem.

James scarcely heard as Mamma told the elegant couple to
have fun, that the children would be fine and ushered them out. As
she closed the door, she said silent prayer to Ussa, et Fillis, and the
Holy Spirit.

Amaka took James’s arm and allowed him to escort her to
the car, open the door for her, and see that she was seated. Hardly
daring to look at his beautiful companion, James was heading in
the direction of the city before he remembered to ask where they
were going. Amaka told him to drive to the river front. James was
puzzled, knowing there were no restaurants in that area.
Nevertheless, he let Amaka direct him to park and lead him to the
wharf.

A long ramp led to a brightly lighted deck of a dinner cruse
ship. Amaka had timed their arrival well and only minutes later
the vessel weighed anchor and eased into the deeper waters of mid
river, quickly leaving behind the built-up parts of the city.
Cocktails and canapés soon gave way to a full dinner with dozens
of other couples.

James and Amaka didn’t talk much over dinner; James
because he couldn’t; Amaka because it wasn’t necessary. As he
gazed at her, not able to get his fill of looking, the words and
images of the classic music video came back to him. Like Whitney
Houston, Amaka could say, “I’m every woman; it’s all in me.” It
was an epiphany; it was time to dance.

The band struck up a Latin beat and James and Amaka took
center stage on the floor. As the combo pumped out the Salsas and
Meringues of Carlos Vives and Niche, James marveled at his
partner. Of course her dancing was superb. But Amaka put a
wiggle in her hips and a subtle contortion into the movements of
her belly that reminded everyone of the Afro-Caribbean origins of
this music.

The panting couples were taking a break from hard driving
techno-rock when the ship reached its southernmost point and
swung round, allowing those on both sides to view the long incline
up on the Virginia side towards Mt. Vernon, brilliantly illuminated
for the benefit of the dinner dancers.

On the way back, the orchestra wisely switched to ballads
of the ‘60s and ‘70s that put everyone in a mellower mood. As the
liner pulled to within sight of the Washington Monument, the
music had drifted farther back to Hoagie Carmichael and Cole
Porter. James was holding Amaka very close and they swayed,
almost asleep in each other’s arms, to the magical old lyrics.

It was well past midnight when the last of the happy
couples descended the gangplank, most looking more at each other
than at where they were going. James thought Amaka had never
felt softer, had never fit more perfectly into his arms, as if she had
always been there. If, that is, the world had even *existed* before.
Was this not the first night of a newly created Earth, a terrestrial
paradise that might be lost, but never again equaled? James
dreaded for this night to end. Reluctantly he pointed the car
toward Amaka’s house in upper Northeast.

“Not that way, darling,” she smiled.

James looked at the lovely woman at his side, not knowing
how to believe his good fortune. He started to ask her something,
but Amaka stopped his lips with a kiss.

“Home, James,” she ordered.

Amaka seemed to have no shyness, walking into the stately
home James had shared with Janet. Without having to ask, she led
James to the bedroom. She allowed him to watch as she removed
the Ubaletu and shook her plaits free. He stared in fascination as
she untied the Ukmoh and let it drop to the floor. He didn’t have
to wait long before she shed the bra and panties and began
undressing him.

They made love. James had believed he had made love to
Amaka many times. He now realized that he was wrong. They
had only had loving, tender sex. It had been wonderful sex, but
nothing like this. “James, James, oh my love, Oh James, James”
Amaka sobbed between orgasms.

James could only repeat her name like a mantra, “Amaka,
Amaka, Amaka, Amaka” his voice, too, broken with feeling as he
thrust himself deep into the woman clinging to him. “One flesh”
The old Biblical phrase flashed into James’s mind. It had always
struck him as material and crude. Now he knew it was but a literal
description of what his and Amaka’s bodies sought -- coupling,
joining, fusion, a melting together, a perfect union.

A terrible tenderness came over James as he felt Amaka
drift off to sleep. She lay cradled in his arms, so perfectly trusting,
snuggling closer as her breathing grew soft. Did any man deserve
this trust; did he; could he earn it? He never wanted her to leave
his side. As James drowsily held the now sleeping woman, he
realized that not only had he and Amaka never made love before,
they had never slept together. “Sleep together.” It was much so
much more than a euphemism for having sex. It was a totally
different way of making love, one in which the elbows and the
backs of the legs, the knees and the shoulder blades, could
participate for hour after hour, long after the genitals no longer
touched.

The last thing James remembered before going to sleep was
Amaka’s hair tickling his nose. He could have flicked it aside, but
decided he would rather just fold her into the crook of his body.
The first thing he saw in the next morning was Amaka’s smiling
face. Compared to this moment, he had never been happy before.
Tears filled his eyes. “I love you so much, Amaka.”

“And I love you,” she replied. “You are a good man,
James, worthy of a woman’s love. You must believe that and not
keep torturing yourself over Janet.”

“But I ...” Amaka stifled his protest with a kiss.

“Whatever you did, Love, is done. Janet left you four
children whom she loved above anything. The best thing you can
do is give them their daddy back. Look,”

Amaka clapped her hands and two by two the children filed
in. Amaka’s children, being used to constant coming and goings
since they were babies, were more outgoing than Janet’s. Ifi led
James Jr. by the hand even though he was several months her
senior. Efe tugged at the shy Clive. Little Jerome and Sophia were
already best friends and playmates and followed their brothers and
sisters in without coaxing. Mamma entered last holding the babies,
Leroy and Susana.

As James looked from one to the other, he was consumed
by love for them all. He knew that he had to remake a life for them
as well as for the wonderful creature lying at his side.

“They’re all *here*” James stated, somewhat foolishly, but
Amaka understood what he meant.

“Of course, darling. Mamma brought them last night. This
is their home. It’s our home. They have a wonderful Mamma, but
they need mother and father.”

It took a few days to work out the sleeping arrangements
and a routine to get everyone bathed and fed in the mornings and
still permit James and Amaka to get to the clinic by 10:00 AM or
so. The nature of the practice changed. James and Amaka became
even more equal partners. Now they never took a client just
because his or her partner wanted a subservient sex maniac. They
interviewed the couple carefully and made the adjustments
necessary, usually to both.

Amaka did not need to tell James what to do about the ex-
clients. Over many weeks and months he made calls, tracking
down people and getting them into the clinic for business, but
within a year things were falling into place.

*****

It had not been easy to locate Kathy Black. James was
appalled at finding her in a housing project struggling to support
six children by four different men. When they heard her story,
however, Kate and Bill Jenkins of NAP (National Association of
People) had no trouble deciding they wanted Kathy to head up
their legal staff. Kathy was surprised how old Bill Atturbury had
changed and after making him court her assiduously for several
months agreed to marry him.

Bill Atturbury could have been their grandfather, but
Pauline, Carlitos, Chun and Chan , and Malcolm Jr. couldn’t have
been more delighted. He read them stories, and played horsy, and
could make an elephant sound that never failed to set them
giggling hilariously. This was so much more fun than running a
conglomerate, Bill turned his remaining interests over to Trent. He
took Pauline and Carlitos to pre-school and even found changing
the diapers of Susana and Martin Luther hugely satisfying.

As much as he adored these children, however, Bill begged
Kathy to let him get her pregnant just one more time so they could
have one baby of their own. Kathy told him he must be out of his
mind. It could have been cause for a row, but they loved each
other too much to argue over numbers. Eventually Kathy
compromised on three.

*****

When James called, Angelica supposed that he had decided
it was time to give her another child. She was puzzled when,
instead, he asked her to send Robert to the clinic for another visit.
Wonderful “after sales service,” she laughed to herself in the days
and nights that followed . Angelica loved the improvements in
Robert. He was as sweet as ever, but seemed somehow more
imaginative in his lovemaking. He no longer just waited around to
please his ever-horny wife, but took more initiative, fucking her at
times and in places that Angelica wouldn’t have thought of.
Angelica would have to thank James personally when she saw him
next.

Another motive for seeing James intervened. “What’s
going on, James? I’ve missed my period.” Angelica demanded,
more than a little annoyed.

“Do you need to ask what that means?” James replied,
amused.

“It’s not funny, James” Angelica snapped. “Why treat me
like that? I never deny you. I enjoy letting you get me pregnant.
There was no reason to get me down to the clinic, impregnate me
and then make me forget the whole thing!”

“You haven’t been to the clinic, Angelica and I didn’t get
you pregnant.

“Then who did?”

“How should I know?” James teased. “Have you been
sleeping around?”

“No, you bastard, only with ...” She stopped and rapidly
counted the days. She had been ovulating soon after Robert’s visit
to James’s clinic. A look of consternation spread over her face.
“But that’s impossible.”

“I reversed Robert’s vasectomy, Angelica, and told him
about our now defunct arrangement. I’m sure Robert will be very
happy to find he’s going to be a father for the first time.”

“My god! I’m as horny as ever. So from now on I’ll have
to take precautions?”

“That’s up to you, but don’t expect too much help from
Robert. Under the circumstances I can bet he will be wanting to
make up for lost time.”

*****

Malcolm Foster was mad as hell. He had been waiting in
this damned doctor’s office for forty five minutes. He could be out
on the street dealing. This delay was costing him money over
$1500, but it couldn’t be helped. He wasn’t here of his own free
will.

Everything had started going wrong for Malcolm several
months ago when his favorite woman, that horny white bitch
named Kathy had been snatched out of his life. He had had made
with her. She craved sex and by giving or withholding his woman
pleaser, he had made her a virtual sex slave. The oversexed slut
had learned to cook for him better than any of his black girlfriends
and she had let him make her pregnant twice. Malcolm had been
thinking it was time she started working on another little bastard
when everything changed. He didn’t underhand how she suddenly
was able to laugh off his bullying and then get some rich white
man screwing her. Even before the old bastard married her, he
installed Kathy in a fancy apartment with security that didn’t let
Malcolm in.

Malcolm though his luck had turned when Horse Jones and
the other four Wizards starters showed up at his house one day. He
quickly learned his mistake. It was funny, they seemed to know all
about him. “Kathy tells me you like white girls,” Horse said a
little menacingly.

“Sure, Bro’,” Malcolm replied nervously. “Them white
bitches really likes a nice big piece of black meat.”

“And I believe you’ve said that you like to ‘get a horny a
white woman so addicted to my cock she’ll let me make her
pregnant,’ or word to that effect?” asked “Jumper” Bradford

“Uh ... sure,” Malcolm answered truthfully, but growing
apprehensive about this line of questioning.

“Well, that real convenient,” remarked Rufus Prescott

“Because we’ve got just the girl for you.” continued
“Apple” Appleby

“Drop those pants, my friend. Let’s see if you’ve got what
it takes to keep a hungry woman satisfied,” Jumper ordered.
Malcolm was a big man, but no more than any one of these five
LARGE black men. He decided to comply. The team made a
quick assessment of Malcolm’s crotch assets and went into a
huddle.

“It’s worth asking her, I guess,” said Rufus.

“Come in here, Ethel, baby,” Apple called. “What do you
think?”

A thin redhead in hot pants appeared in the door. Ethel
Patterson appraised Malcolm carefully, paying especially close
attention to the zone between his legs, then grinned. “I’ll take
him.”

“Looks like you’ve got yourself a new girlfriend,” smiled
Horse.

“What are you talking about, man?” Malcolm objected,
looking over the woman who was looking him over. “That ain’t no
woman. that’s a scarecrow! Look at her! Hell, I’ve seen bigger
tits on a gnat. And her rear end! There ain’t enough meat on her
scrawny ass for a man to sink his teeth into.” Malcolm protested.

“Sorry you feel that way,” Rufus frowned. “We were
hoping to find someone to take a very enthusiastic lady off our
hands. Coach says she’s wearing us out.” The others nodded in
agreement.

“What’s going on?” Ethel objected. “You told me you
knew someone who could keep me happy.”

“He will, baby. He will,” Apple reassured her. “Just be
patient.

“You obviously don’t know a good thing when it looks you
in the eye, my friend,” Horse lectured with the full support of his
team mates. “I guess you’d better go talk to a friend or ours.
Here’s the telephone number. Ask for an appointment with Dr.
Bock and tell them Horse sent you.” Malcolm had understood that
he was not free to ignore the suggestion. That’s why he was sitting
here, in this funny looking room, waiting to see some dumb
*women’s* doctor.

“You can come in now, Mr. Foster.” said a tall beautiful
back woman. Malcolm again thought his luck was about to
change. This time, he was right.

Several weeks later Malcolm was lying somewhat dazed
and exhausted, looking up into the shining eyes of the lithe redhead
who straddled him. It always amazed him that a woman who
weighed no more than Ethel could *drain* him the way she did.
No matter how many times he made her cum, she kept demanding
more and more until he was a noodle. “Oh, is that all?” Ethel
asked, never able to hide completely her disappointment when
Malcolm petered out. “Is my ‘tweet chocolate popcicle all tired-y
poo?” she continued, slipping into baby talk. Malcolm was
drifting off. “Tweetie,” she asked pensively. “How would ‘ou
wike doing me doggie?”

It was like mentioning food to someone after a big meal.
Malcolm groaned. The woman was insatiable! “Oh, baby, I’d love
to, but not right *now*.”

“Oh, I know ‘at. Wight now my widdle boy is going to
take a wong nappy so tomowow he will be big and twong again,”
Ethel reassured, obviously referring more to Malcolm’s limp cock
than to him. “Mamma Ethel means would ‘ou wike to do her the
doggie way all the time for the last month or two?”

Malcolm had been having trouble paying attention. Even
when she didn’t have him fucked him out, Ethel’s baby talk made
him sleepy, but the implication of her question suddenly brought
him fully awake. He looked up at her, his eyes wide with surprise.
If she weren’t a proper wife and mother, the expression on Mrs.
Ethel Foster’s face would have to be called a shit eating grin.

“‘At’s wight, ‘ou naughty boy. ‘Ou put that bid old bwack
baby-maker in a bewey of ‘ou’s bwand new widdle white bwide
once too often duwing our honeymoon. Now ‘ou’ll just have to
suffer the consequences!” she teased.

Malcolm was too happy to say anything as Ethel looked
down at him, as if awaiting his reply. “Ouuuh!” she brightened.
“I’ll take that as ‘yes,’” she said and began to hump up and down
again on Malcolm’s reviving cock.

*****

“Hell, no I’m not paying more than 6 cents a MCF for
Bangladeshi gas. If they don’t want to sell at that price, tell them
*they* can build the damned pipeline!” Trent Atturbury snapped,
punching off his cellular so hard it might be damaged. Life was
funny , he thought. The last thing he ever expected in life was
being saddled with his father’s business. Unless it was enjoying
the hell out of it! Trent had wanted to be a writer, moving words
around on paper. Moving men and money around the world turned
out to be much more fun!

The turn of events in Trent’s life was almost unbelievable.
First his father had gone off the deep end over Kathy, an old
girlfriend of his, a welfare mother with a houseful of children.
Then Daddy decided to chuck the business and turn everything
over to him so he could play daddy to Kathy’s kids and a growing
number of his own rug rats. The horny old goat had just gotten
Kathy pregnant again.

As a condition of giving Trent control of a multi-billion
dollar empire, however, Daddy had insisted Trent see some kind of
psychologist, a Ms. Amaka Ebe, to “put some spine” in his
formerly wishy-washy personality. Well, wishy-washy he was no
longer, at least not in the office. Better still, however, through
Amaka, Trent had met an incredible woman!

Ayo was a member of Amaka’s family. Trent didn’t
understand exactly what the relationship was. Months ago he had
accepted Ayo’s advice that their liaison remain a secret among his
business colleagues. “I’m not a woman you take out,” she had
told him with a grin. “I’m a woman to come home to.” He knew
what she meant. Not that she was black and he was white; he
would have killed anyone who made *that* an issue, but the
difference in their ages and her girth would have raised some
eyebrows. Ayo had the body of a woman who had lived and loved
quite a few years longer than Trent. She was built on the “Aunt
Jemima” model -- the original, not the Naomi Campbell look-alike.

No one knew it, but Ayo was his other half. Outgoing
where Trent was withdrawn, passionate when he was too analytic,
patient when he would jump to conclusions, keeping in mind the
big picture where he could be lost in detail. Ayo knew nothing
about the oil and gas business, but she had saved his company from
several big mistakes with her insights.

Most important, Ayo loved Trent. She loved him enough
to make him tell her everything. When she asked, “How was
work?” she expected, and got, a full, blow by blow recounting.
She beamed with pride at Trent’s triumphs, grew angry or
dismissive of his conflicts, comforted him in occasional failures.
Whatever happened, she was on his side, encouraging him, having
more faith in him than he sometimes had in himself. Whether in
happiness or despair, Ayo always told him he was wonderful and
made him believe it by making love to him. hot, heavy, passionate
love.

Nothing ever seemed to dampen Ayo’s spirits, so when
Trent found her crying one evening, he was more than surprised,
he was alarmed. He had never needed to comfort her before. It
was not easy to take the large woman into his arms, but her
consternation made her slip into his embrace. She lay her head on
his chest and sobbed. “Oh, Trent, darling, I’m so sorry. Please
forgive me. I didn’t intend for it to happen; you’ve got to believe
me. I’m afraid of what you’ll say and I’ll do it if you tell me to,
but it’s wrong and I don’t want to.”

“Ayo, Ayo. What’s wrong? What could you possible have
done to need my forgiveness? Did you damage something? That
Bukara in the living room? Don’t be silly. This is now your house
as much as mine.”

“No Trent, it’s not the carpet; it’s ... it’s everything. I’ve
messed up. I just didn’t think it could still happen; I thought I was
too old.”

“Ayo, honey, you’re not making sense. What do you mean
you thought you were too old, that you’ve messed up everything?”

“Our life, Trent. I messed it up by getting pregnant and its
yours and I don’t want to get an abortion. Please let me keep it.
I’ll move out and never bother you about it, but please let me keep
your baby.” Her words poured out in a single breath.

“Oh, Ayo, honey! Trent almost shouted. “This is the most
wonderful news you could have given me. I was worried
something was wrong with me. You don’t know how jealous I’ve
been of James and your niece or whatever she is. They’ve got four
already and she expecting again. Now we are going to have a
baby, too.”

Ayo looked up at Trent, relief and adoration in her still
tear-filled eyes. “You mean it? You want to have a baby? With a
big old woman like me? You want to make me fatter?

“You are not ‘fat,’ Ayo. You’re round, and every pound
you’ve put on since you were Amaka’s age had gone to places men
like to see them. If the baby takes after you, we’re going to have
the handsomest boy or the most gorgeous little girl imaginable.
Who have you told?”

“Nobody, I was afraid you’d make me ...”

“You don’t know me as well as you think, if you believed I
would let you, much less make you abort a baby, even if the baby
were not mine. Case closed. Get up and call Amaka to tell her
she’s going to have a new little cousin.”

“What do you mean, ‘cousin?’” Don’t you know, Trent?
Amaka’s not my niece, she’s my daughter. She’s going to have a
new little brother or sister.”

“Ayo, this is so wonderful! Yesterday I was an unattached
though spoken for male; now I’m going to be a father. And I guess
I’m Amaka’s father in law and I’ve got grandchildren! There’s
just one more thing I need.”

“What are you talking about?” Ayo asked, amused by
Trent’s strange, expansive ideas of family.

“I need a wife.”

*****

Bloody inconvenient, Col. Steve Trevor thought. Not that
he was unhappy that his wife had let him make her pregnant again.
He loved seeing Diana, who was so active and trim, gradually slow
down and plump up when she was having a baby. He even loved
making love to her when she was pregnant, at least he supposed he
did. All he could actually remember from their nights together was
lying at her side, stroking her swollen belly, gently sucking and
kissing her laden tits and sometimes tonguing her to one orgasm
after another. But they must make love. Steve Jr., two, Drucilla,
one, and Diana’s expanding belly was proof of that.

Still it was bloody inconvenient. Why did it have to
happen that every time he got Wonder Woman pregnant, Diana
turned up pregnant, too?

*****

Paul Graves was surprised to get a call from a Dr. James
Bock. It took him a minute to recall the strange doctor who a few
years ago had fixed that junior partner in his firm so she would
fuck him. Kathy, he seemed to remember her name. She had
really been hot, couldn’t get enough of him. He had enjoyed her
until he got her pregnant and he had moved on. That was about the
time that Betty had found out about his affairs. She had walked
into Paul’s office one afternoon to find his secretary carefully
positioned over an arm chair with Paul fucking her like blazes.

Funny, after Betty had divorced him and he was free to
screw any woman he wanted to, it turned into a bore. Finding
them, telling them the same damned funny stories, taking them to
the same restaurants and back to his apartment, fucking them for a
few weeks and then getting rid of them -- always the most difficult
part. Where was the fun in that?. Sometime he even missed Betty.
She was certainly a lot more interesting to talk to that the bimbos
he picked up.

This was pretty strange. The doctor suggested they meet at
a downtown club. Paul was inclined to say no, but James
suggested he had a new woman he wanted to introduce to Paul.
What the hell? Paul agreed. He had never been very good at guy-
to-guy talk, but he found that after a few beers, it was really easy to
open up to Dr. Bock. Paul was telling the doctor things he never
had really thought of before -- how tired he was of the meaningless
conquests of airheads, how he missed his children, how he even
missed having a woman who was his equal, who looked out for his
interests, who would tell him he was full of shit when he was, who
didn’t think his beer belly “was cute.”

“I’ve got just the woman for you” James said.

Perhaps there was some surreptitious signal or perhaps it
was Kismet. Just them Paul Graves glanced over towards the
entrance of the club and saw her standing there. At first he didn’t
recognize her. His eyes met hers and his mouth dropped. Slowly
she walked toward him. It was Betty, but ... but .... Paul had never
seen her like this, at least not for years. She had on a tight-fitting
off-white dress cut five or six inches above her knee. The
matching heels gave a roll to her hips that drove him crazy. As she
drew closer he noticed the kind of large, flashy earrings he had
wanted her to wear for years. Since the last time he had seen her,
she had lost inches around the waist without reducing her ample
hips and eye-popping boobs. If “babe” could be applied to a
woman almost fifty, Betty was a babe.

Paul was so struck by seeing Betty again he hadn’t noticed
she wasn’t alone. “Good evening, Paul, James. May I introduce
my friend, Arnold.”

A tall muscular blonde stuck out his had to shake. “Hi.” he
smiled.

Paul was struck silent again. As he shook hands with the
young man he tried to place the face. He had seen it before. My
god! This was the himbo that had appeared on TV with Sen.
Finger. Instantly everything was clear. Betty had gotten herself
sexy as hell again and now had this hunk fucking her lights out.

“Hello, Arnold. What is your line of endeavor?” Paul said,
trying to be civil.

The smile faded from the young man’s face and he looked
at Betty for help. “Arnold is a handy man,” Betty explained. “At
least *I* find him very handy. Hope you’re keeping well, Paul.
Now if you’ll excuse us ....” Betty took Arnold’s hand and led him
away to a corner booth.

“Amaka is bringing your date. I can’t imagine what is
keeping them,” James remarked. Paul wasn’t listening. He was
staring through the dim light to see what his wife, well, his ex-wife
was doing with the young man. They had been kissing for about
two minutes non stop and Betty was starting to squirm. Paul
thought he could see Betty’s short skirt rucked up closer to her
crotch as she spread her legs. From her movements it was pretty
evident where Arnold’s hand had gone and what *it’s* line of
endeavor was. Presently, several other patrons glanced over at the
moans and grunts coming from the couple in the corner booth
where a woman in a short white dress appeared to be having an
orgasm.

“Ah, here they are,” James boomed, not seeming to pay
attention to the spectacle over in the corner. Reluctantly Paul
turned his attention to James and the two women who had just
walked in. One was tall, black, and .very beautiful. The other was
a shorter cute blonde about 25.

“Sorry we’re late, darling,” said the taller woman as she
kissed James.

“Paul, this is my wife, Amaka and Megan. Megan works in
our office.

“I answer the ‘phones for Dr. Bock.” Megan put in.

Drinks arrived and James inched close to Amaka. The
lovers began whispering softly to each other. Paul was left to
pretend to listen to Megan’s chatter as he tried to see the action in
the corner booth. James, Amaka, and Megan were the only people
in the club who seemed oblivious to what was going on. Betty had
thrown her head back on the seat. Her eyes were closed and sheer
ecstasy rippled across her face. Her blouse was open and Arnold’s
face was buried in her well endowed bosom. If Betty had come
with a bra, it was no longer extant. From the way her tits had
jiggled as she walked in, Paul was convinced she hadn’t worn one.
Arnold appeared to be sucking one tit and them the other without
removing his hand from between Betty’s legs. She was whinnying
in rut.

“You wanna dance?” Megan asked her distracted partner.
He didn’t, of course, but anything was better than the torture of
watching his wife, well, his ex wife, getting fondled and finger
fucked. The music was some strange mixture of keyboard with
lots of electronic rhythm, far too fast. Paul didn’t really know
what to do out on the floor. The other dancers were just gyrating.
Paul tried to gyrate, too, but didn’t do it as well as Megan.

Objectively speaking, Megan was a sexy little thing. She
had big boobs that bounced in syncopation to the music. Paul
didn’t understand how she could dance like that in what must have
been five inch heels, but supposed she had had lots of practice.
The provocative way her hips wiggled ought to have had him
plotting how to get her out of that red miniskirt and his prick into
her no doubt juicy little cunt. She was pretty, sexy, and not too
bright -- just his type. But for some reason Paul felt no attraction
to her at all. He would have been worried about his age and
hormone levels had he not realized he still had an erection from
watching Arnold orgasm his wife, well, his ex-wife.

Because he wasn’t good at this ridiculous excuse for
dancing, Paul was tiring rapidly just as Megan seemed to be
getting warmed up. She was flinging one arm and then the other
into the air and letting out intermittent jungle-like cries. Soon
every man in the club except James was staring. Even Arnold took
a break from working on Betty’s twat to look. Betty, too, sat up to
see what had caused the interruption in Arnold’s wonderful service
and grinned at the sight.

Recovering rapidly from twenty or more minutes of
uninterrupted foreplay, Betty nudged Arnold to lead her to the
floor. Arnold was happy to comply as this brought him closer to
the wild little blonde. If having trouble keeping up with the
contortions of his partner was humbling for Paul, seeing his wife,
well, his ex-wife, start performing an only slightly less frenetic
version of whatever Megan was doing, was acutely embarrassing.
Where the hell had the woman learned to dance like that? When
Betty ground her hips and jiggled her tits, she had a lot more to
grind and jiggle than the girl.

Perhaps sensing that a riot might break out if the hot little
blonde’s and her older companion’s display of blatant sexuality
wasn’t curbed, the band switched to a ‘70s ballad. Megan deflated
like an untied balloon, disoriented by the slower 4/6 beat. Paul
tried to lead, but Megan was hopeless. Glancing over, Paul saw
that Betty was in the same predicament.

“Do you mind?” Paul asked smoothly, dropping Megan’s
hand and tapping the young man on the shoulder. Neither Arnold
or Megan had ever heard of “cutting in” but the maneuver went off
without a hitch. Arnold and Megan were left staring at each other,
not knowing what to do, as Paul swept off with his wife, well, his
ex-wife.

“My god what a spectacle you were making of yourself!”
Paul whispered between clenched teeth, hiding his ire from the
other dancers behind a broad smile.

“What about yourself, *darling*?” Betty hissed. “You
were perfectly ridiculous clomping around to a techno-beat.”

“I mean over at the booth! At least she wasn’t giving me a
blow job in public.”

“Don’t complain to me. *You* were the one who had the
way with the ladies all these years.”

“If you’d dressed and looked as hot as you do tonight, I
wouldn’t have been chasing skirts.”

“When did you ever invite me to a place like this, where a
woman who looks like a woman is appreciated? The only place
you ever took me was to those damned cocktail parties with your
corporate clients,” Betty shot back. “Well, looks like you have a
woman with the proportions you like.”

“What do you mean? You’ve got the proportions I like,
babe.”

“I mean the little blonde. Looks like her bust size exceeds
her age which exceeds her IQ.”

The other dancers marveled as the suave gentleman and his
elegantly sexy dance partner glided around the floor, unaware of
the exchange of vituperation passing between the smiling couple.

“But I’ll take that as a compliment, anyway. Thank you.”
Betty continued, slightly mollified.

“I mean it, babe. I’ve never seen you looking so good.”

“Not having to put up with *you* had given me more time
to spend on myself,” Betty explained, icily.

“Well, what can I say? Did you had to leave me to become
the woman I’ve always wanted?”

“Why didn’t you tell me what you wanted?

“Well, I did, didn’t I? I’m sure I told you I liked a woman
in heels and earrings and you don’t need to be told men like to see
a woman’s legs.”

“You told me how you liked ‘a woman’ to dress. You
never told me that you’d love to see ‘me’ dressed that way. I
wanted to be your wife, Paul, not your whore. Why didn’t you
ever send me any of those flowers I kept finding receipts for?”
Betty was sobbing softly now and had snuggled into Paul’s arms.

“Oh baby! I was so stupid running after sex from all those
chicks, but I never loved anyone but you.”

“Paul, darling, I want to believe that so much.”

“Elizabeth, my love. Please come back to me. Give me a
change to prove I love you every day for the rest of my life.”

James and Amaka like everyone else in the club were
riveted on the couple standing in the middle of the dance floor, no
longer moving, crying into each other’s arms. Amaka leaned over
and kissed James approvingly. Then she noticed Arnold and
Megan over in the corner booth. Arnold appeared to be sucking
one tit and them the other without removing his hand from between
Megan’s legs. She was whinnying in rut. Amaka leaned over and
kissed James again.

End of Story