Labor Force Participation FChapter 4 His Victory
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Carolyn Pierce felt she was in a race with herself. Which would she produce first, a child or a dissertation? It was a race she was losing, which meant -- in some sense -- that she was winning it, too. But she definitely would prefer to produce the dissertation first, and it didn’t look like she would. For one thing, once a dissertation was finished, it was quite finished. You needn’t feed it or diaper it. She had no illusions that the baby would be so simple. Anyway, the dissertation was coming along slowly. She was still struggling with the first draft, and she was clear that there would be others.
She’d already limited herself. The locations of bookstores in Chicago had changed to the bookstores in a Northern section of Chicago. With that limitation approved, she had been able to finish the interview section of her research. The library research had been less trouble. Arranging all that information so that it both made sense and could be comprehended by a reader was the current struggle. And, as her pregnancy advanced, she was not only moving more slowly, she was thinking more slowly.
The rest of the world didn’t stop because she was concentrating on two things, either. She was still assistant-teaching one course, and she was still attending Aldersgate UMC. The last got her a call from Judy Grant.
“You’re a member of the UMW, aren’t you?”
“Sorta. Gladys had me fill out a membership app and pay the dues. I’m not really planning to attend until I’m slimmer.”
“Hah! You think you’ll have more time after the delivery. Really, they’re less trouble -- hard as that is to believe now -- when they’re inside you. Anyway, don’t tell Gladys...” She didn’t like the sound of that, but she kept her silence. After a moment, Judy went on.
“You, of all people, should remember the brouhaha over the last rummage sale.”
“Well, I’m married to the man who started it.”
“Bill didn’t really start it. He just refused to roll over. Well, some of us are getting a little tired. The group needs new blood at the top, and won’t get it until some new people attend, which won’t happen as long as it’s the same old - same old, which won’t change until we get some new blood at the top.”
“You make it sound hopeless.”
“It nearly is, but not quite. The executive committee is the four officers, president, vice president, secretary, and treasurer. They move up the chairs. Only death, and maybe not that, can keep this year’s treasurer from becoming next year’s secretary. And so forth. Well, some of us want to elect Gladys as treasurer. Otherwise, it will be Grace Benton, and nothing will change. Enough of us with formal membership attending the meeting can elect her. Gladys has ideas. Not that Grace doesn’t, just that Grace’s ideas are the center of the problem. Can we count on you? And don’t tell Gladys.”
“Seems a nasty trick on her.”
“Well, she’ll do the job if she’s elected. She needs to be able to say that she’s as surprised as anybody, which will be true. Can we count on you? Saturday at 6:30.”
“All right. I’ll try.”
And she made it. The meeting started with a reading of the minutes of the last meeting. The business of the UMW seemed to be conducting meetings to report and vote on conducting the last and next meeting. There was a devotional, which consisted of one woman reading from a booklet in a monotone. All this time, women were looking at the new attendees. They elected a president, vice president -- who was asked to continue taking minutes for this meeting only, and a secretary with only one nomination each.
“Are there nominations for Treasurer?” Jane Wiggins, the new president asked.
“I nominate Gladys Hagopian,” Judy said in a louder, clearer voice than most of the previous speakers had used. There were murmurs seconding it.
“Other nominations?” Jane looked right at Beverly Trueblood.
“I nominate Grace Benton.” Several people looked like they were counting the likely votes on their fingers. But Grace got up.
“Grace Benton declines.” She looked around the room. “You women think you’ve done something special. Well, I know Gladys. She’ll do the work. But that won’t mean much if you go home and forget this. If you really want to support her, you should attend more meetings than once a year.” She sat down. Gladys was elected by the same unanimous vote and joined the other officers at the head table.
Well, the others could support Gladys or -- if they chose -- not support Gladys. That meeting had been too long sitting in one position. The baby told her so. She seemed to be kicking in all directions at once.
Carolyn Pierce was dressing for church. The job shouldn’t have been difficult. She had only a few dresses formal enough for that setting, and -- as a member of the choir -- those were covered through most of the service. The problem was that most of those few dresses no longer fit. She should have gone for a more flowing style back when she’d bought them instead of the close fit to show off her narrow waist. This was the last dress that fit, and it barely did. She’d worn it last week, anyway....
Friday, Bill Pierce finished the August 31 Chicago Tribune he’d got that morning, put the sports section in front, and folded it under his arm. He knew Carolyn read when he was gone, but they didn’t discuss the outside world. The real news of the week was Carolyn’s pregnancy, and the Tribune didn’t cover that. He planned to take her out for dinner. She was responsible for dinners at home -- except for her crush times, when he bought take-out. He was responsible for dinners out, and they...
Bill Pierce cleared the table Sunday morning while still wearing the robe over his underwear. He went to join Carolyn in the bedroom where she was already dressing. “I think,” Carolyn said, “that I show in this dress.” Well, her pregnancy showed more, and more delightfully, when she was wearing nothing at all. Still, knowing it was there, he could see it easily. “Ihm hmm.” He bent to kiss the tiny bulge that held the fruit of their love. From her frown, that was the wrong answer. They...
Bill Pierce noticed Carolyn come up from the choir-robing room wearing what was now definitely her best dress. It was flowing, not blatantly announcing her pregnancy, but Gladys had guessed -- in front of half the choir -- the first time she saw it. He moved to a table with two empty chairs. Richard and Judy Grant, their son Pete, and their daughter Marilyn were at the table. Pete was a freshman in high school and Marilyn was a senior, nearly two decades over the age of kids he enjoyed...
The grill was hot and sending enticing aromas floating throughout the neighborhood. Everywhere there was laughter and conversation as the family caught up at the last blast of summer - the annual Labor Day cookout. Zach stole a glance at the cooler as his uncle fished out a beer. Daydreaming about how good an ice-cold beer would go down, he sighed. There was no way he was going to risk trying to snatch up a couple with the whole family in the back yard. Twenty-one was the drinking age, and his...
Image of perfection Object of an affection in sexing Fantasizing freaky positions of you in submission Pushing pulling twisting and moaning A Place where I could store my erection Splendid features Tongue kissing fucking Look up cause I got mirrors on the ceiling Reflecting your ass bouncing silly Soon as you come in right away If you’re willing Splay your legs open Game played by 2 My sexual motivation Got you yelling spots for me to do? Amazed by the way you grind Just for fun I bet ill...
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Willing Participation I was at loose end, so decided to try the new strip club that had recently opened up. On arriving I was informed that the club was strictly “Members Only”, and that the fee for the year was $50. The door fee would be $25. I filled out the application form, and noted a whole load of “The undersigned agrees to blah blah blah” legal mumbo-jumbo, and who reads that stuff? I signed and paid my $75. I was handed a ticket with 24 printed on it. The show had yet to start. I...
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The grill was hot and sending enticing aromas floating throughout the neighborhood. Everywhere there was laughter and conversation as the family caught up at the last blast of summer – the annual Labor Day cookout. Zach stole a glance at the cooler as his uncle fished out a beer. Daydreaming about how good an ice-cold beer would go down, he sighed. There was no way he was going to risk trying to snatch up a couple with the whole family in the back yard. Twenty-one was the drinking age, and his...
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Several “hours” later, after what seemed hours of being with her, I knew I liked it for sure, and that is I had to admit that I loved being “milked” by her. In other words, I had to say, to myself as well as her too, that I absolutely loved it when she pinched her nipples together and that milk sprayed heavily all over me. It didn’t matter. No it didn’t. I couldn’t get over it as she happily, merrily, and freely pinched them together, and as she did one or the other exploded. It came out so...
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even though it was simply a case of memorization. Most of the time was spent trying to find a comfortable position that would rest my still shocked and quite sore pussy. If I sat in any conventional way, it would constantly remind me of all the repositioning and abuse it had undergone for the “A” I was trying to make. Sometimes, I would sit Indian Style to “stretch –it-out” as if it was a muscle recovering from an intense workout. If I did find some rest that would take the dull ache of my...
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