The Making Of A Gigolo 15 Agatha RobertsChapter 5
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The Making Of A Gigolo (15) - Agatha RobertsChapter 27 free porn video
It was late June, and Mirriam’s car was parked in front of Prudence’s house. While she and Bobby were both spending several nights a week at the Harris house, they drove separate cars. That’s because Jeff Hamilton always came with Mirriam, and Bobby usually took Constance somewhere while the “older folks” as they called them, grinning, spent time together. That had happened tonight, which was why Mirriam’s was the only Dalton vehicle parked out front.
Initially, Jeff had gone with Mirriam to Prudence’s house to get away from Jennifer and Candy. While the research was going well, and the team was working well together, he didn’t want to be tempted during off time. The girls had finally asked for permission to take the van to the roadhouse in Granger, where they could dance. Jeff assumed they were quite popular there, but didn’t ask a lot of questions, as long as they promised him they wouldn’t drive drunk. By then, though, it was more or less habit for him to go with Mirriam, and that continued.
Prudence was putting Kyle and Katherine to bed. That was a sometimes complicated and time consuming process, with last drinks of water, and bedtime stories, and so on and so forth. Prudence popped her head into the living room.
“Kyle has an upset stomach. He feels warm. I’m going to sit with him until he falls asleep.”
“We should probably go,” said Mirriam. “It’s getting late anyway.”
Bobby drove aimlessly, with no particular destination in mind. The only noise in the car was the radio, which was playing softly. They’d gone to the A&W for root beer floats. To say the relationship between Bobby and Constance was tense was not fair, really. After spending the night together, sleeping fully clothed, and clearing up the misunderstanding that Bobby had about her relationship with Jeff Hamilton, there had been some kisses. Those kisses had been serious, and both of them knew it.
But there was a lot of baggage that went along with both Bobby and Constance. For Bobby, it was all the women he had loved, and the children he had made with them. For Connie, it was her dead husband, and the fact that she’d had special feelings for Bobby most of her adult life.
A few kisses, no matter how heartfelt, cannot overcome baggage like that. They had always liked spending time together, which is what allowed them to see each other again after those kisses. Neither took anything for granted in the relationship. It wasn’t rocky, but it wasn’t smooth either. They had spent eight or ten evenings together since that night, and had yet to kiss again.
Those eight or ten evenings had been full of talk, though if you’d have asked either one of them what they’d talked about neither could have given much of a list. It was just comfortable to be together, even if all they did was drive around, or go to a park and swing on the swings in the dark.
Bobby had just completed a turn when his hand went to the volume knob on the radio. He turned it up.
“I know that tune!” he said.
The words that were being sung by a young female voice, when he turned the radio up were:
“I want to be Bobby’s girl
I want to be Bobby’s girl,
That’s the most important thing to me...”
Constance reached for the knob and turned it down. Bobby immediately turned it back up.
“And if I was Bobby’s girl,
If I was Bobby’s girl,
What a faithful thankful girl I’d be.
Each night I sit at home,
Hoping that he will phone,
But I know Bobby has someone else”
Constance reached to turn it down again.
“That’s the song you’re always humming!” accused Bobby.
“It’s a silly song,” said Constance.
Bobby turned the radio back up and then slapped at her hand as she tried to get to the knob.
“I want to be Bobby’s girl
I want to be Bobby’s girl,
That’s the most important thing to me...
Still in my heart I pray
There soon will come the day
That I will have him all to myself...
I want to be Bobby’s girl
I want to be Bobby’s girl,
That’s the most important thing to me...
And if I was Bobby’s girl,
If I was Bobby’s girl,
What a faithful thankful girl I’d be.
What a faithful thankful girl I’d be. “
The radio announcer’s voice cut in, sounding much too jovial.
“And that was Marcie Blaine’s 1962 top three hit Bobby’s Girl, a blast from the past and an all time favorite. That was for all the girls out there who are pining for the man they can’t have. And now, on to...”
Constance’s fingers hit the button that turned the radio on and off, and it went silent.
Bobby moved his hand, from where it had been protecting the volume knob.
“Don’t you turn that back on, Bobby Dalton!” she snapped.
“What’s the matter with you?” he laughed. “You’re the one that hums that all the time. I remember now. Wow, that was a while back. Mamma used to sing along with that when it came on the radio and tell me that there was a girl out there for me somewhere.” He chuckled again. “I was thirteen, and I didn’t know anything about girls. They scared me back then.”
“It’s just a song,” grumped Constance.
They were passing the town square, and he pulled into a parking slot. He turned off the engine and turned to face her, putting his knee up on the seat between them.
“You hum it all the time, Constance.”
“So that has to mean I want to be Bobby’s girl?” She leaned against her door. “It’s true, you know.”
“What’s true?” She’d given him conflicting signals.
“You do have someone else. You’ve always had someone else.”
“I don’t have anybody else right now,” he said.
“Yes you do. You still go see Erica, and I know you and the twins are...” She stopped, and then started again. “Never mind. There are lots of women, Bobby, and you know it.”
“You never seemed to care before,” said Bobby.
“Why would I waste my time?” she asked. “I can’t compete with them! I could never compete with them. They were all so beautiful, and sexy, and they loved you, Bobby. I could see it in their eyes!”
“They didn’t love me,” said Bobby, quietly. “They needed me ... some of them for a little while, and some longer ... but they didn’t love me. Not like you’re talking about.”
“You are such an idiot, Bobby Dalton!” snapped Constance. “Every one of those women would have married you if you’d asked them!”
“That’s not true,” said Bobby, his voice steady. “We’ve been all over this, Connie.” He was quiet for a few seconds. “And you’re wrong about not being able to compete either. You could have competed any time you wanted to.”
“Are you insane?“ she yelped. “I’ve loved you since the first week I knew you! I heard that song when I was ten, and I had dreams for years of meeting my Bobby. And all the time I was a mousy little girl with crooked teeth, and boys didn’t pay any attention to me. Then you came tromping into my life, and you made love to my mother, and gave me a brother and sister and...”
She was cut off when he lunged across the seat and kissed her, to shut her up. Part of that was because she was right. He’d been twenty-one, when they met, and she seventeen. He’d thought of her more as a sister, back then, of a sort. He’d been making love to several of his sisters for years, Connie just hadn’t been like that. He’d been interested, but she hadn’t been ready for that, and he’d shied away from her for that reason.
But the other reason he kissed her was because he couldn’t help himself. Her confession had opened a window in his heart, and bright sunshine had blazed in through it. When she’d said she loved him, that night in his room in the barn, he’d interpreted it as friendship love. Even the kisses hadn’t penetrated the shell he’d built between himself and Constance. He’d known she was just comforting him, and he’d taken her kisses as that ... comfort. It was important to him in a critical way, but he still classified them as comfort kisses.
Now, though, things she’d done ... things she’d said took on a deeper meaning. It hadn’t been as platonic as he’d thought, and he realized that the feelings he’d had for her hadn’t been as platonic as he’d tried to make them either.
She pushed him away.
“Stop,” she moaned.
“I love you,” he said.
“No you don’t,” she whined. “You don’t even know what love is. You said so yourself.”
“Connie,” he said. He meant to go on, to tell her everything he felt, but it was so jumbled up inside him ... there was so much to say ... that he couldn’t put it in order. If he spoke now, it would be like tossing pieces of wood on the floor and expecting her to be able to envision the table they’d make, if they were put together. “Don’t push me away,” he finally said.
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