Strange RelationshipsChapter 38: Tabitha Tests Her Money-Maker free porn video

Paul Matheson ushered Tabitha Adams through the entry of his four- plex, one of a half-dozen in this apartment block. No one was around; Paul shrugged to himself. It wasn't like this was the first time he'd brought a woman home; on the other hand, it WAS the first time he'd brought home a black woman. They went up the stairs to his second-floor apartment in silence; Paul hadn't been inclined to talk about the run-in in the restaurant parking lot, and Tabitha had been content to rub his arm and shoulder while he dealt with driving, phone conversations, and some thought. Rodday was gonna be pissed, for sure, she figured, and if Paul needed to think to be sure they didn't get caught up in something else, she wasn't going to get in the way. The difference between Paul and his people and Rodday's was really obvious when you watched 'em mix it up; Rodday's people were wild and noisy and tried to scare you, while Paul and his people were quiet and emotionless and just did what needed doing to put an end to things. Tabitha was pretty sure that Flood and his two buddies could have just as easily woken up dead, and that even the broken bones were the results of conscious decisions on the part of Paul and Scott and the guy they called Thud. Tabitha wondered what was next; if Rodday thought about it, things might simmer down, but if he just reacted, there'd be a shit storm, for sure...

Paul unlocked the door and let Tabitha in; a glance around said that this place had probably never seen a woman's touch. The toys were out in plain sight, all over the place, and the emphasis was on gym equipment and electronics rather than furniture. No plaques, no pictures, very little bric-a-brac -- everything seemed to be functional. Well, the forty-five inch TV with the cable gear attached to it was a lot better than her nineteen incher with the foil-tipped rabbit ears... "Women don't show up here much, do they, Honey?"

Paul shrugged. "When you get to be my age, every woman out there has issues. And it's always the other guy's fault -- until you talk to him, too. I've done my share of divorce work, and it sours you for tales of woe. Usually it's all about some woman trying to get paid for the rest of her life for goods she never delivered in the first place. Or you have to walk on eggs around her because she's ruined; you do or say something, and she flinches and tells you that her first husband -- or her second, or third -- did that..."

"But you been married, too, ain't you, Honey?" Tabitha rubbed his arm. Actually, this wasn't a surprise; johns usually go to hookers because their other outlets are poor or nonexistent -- NOT for variety. She'd heard similar a million times...

"Yeah. Twice. I got lucky; they weren't in for it for the buck, and we had no kids, either time. First time while I was in the Service -- too much time away killed that -- the second after I started PI work. Basically, it was the same thing -- life was one big stakeout, and she got bored waiting. I didn't have time. Maybe I still don't, but it sure seems like I have plenty, some nights."

Tabitha headed for the kitchen. "There any dirty dishes in the sink? Thank fuckin' God! This place is so damned neat -- you'd toss my skinny ass out the window in a week, or strangle me wit' my pantyhose..." she cackled. Paul's place had surface clutter, but was neat and clean beneath. "I ain't a domestic goddess -- I jus' cain't stand drudge work. That's why I do what I do -- I was s'posed ta be a princess an' have servants ta clean up after my ass while I laid on my back an' put out for the king, but there was a screw-up, somewhere. Doin' it for money pays the bills and ain't really work, but I ain't been able ta afford the servant thing. My place is a hole, an' it'd be worse without Nate."

"I have a maid," Paul confided. "She comes in twice a week."

"Y'all would hafta keep her if I moved in -- an' she'd probly charge more..." Tabitha was grinning, but there was a wistful edge to it. Paul wondered why the woman would throw herself at him and then say things like that...

"Something to drink?" Paul asked, guiding her to the couch.

"Whatcha got?"

"Well, beer, mostly, although I probably have soda, too, and could scare up tea or coffee."

"Beer's fine, Honey."

"It's Miller."

"Good. I hate Bud."

Paul headed for the kitchen, and Tabitha, ignoring the offered seat on the couch, followed him. "When you gonna stop runnin' from me, Honey?"

Paul cracked the refrigerator and reached in, passing a bottle to Tabitha. With his head still in the door, he replied, "When I figure out what you REALLY want."

Tabitha waited until she could engage his eyes, "I wanna know if my moneymaker still works. And I wanna know if it's... pleasant... or it's just there."

"Why me?" Paul produced another distraction, looking for a bottle opener.

Tabitha twisted hers off and stepped inside his guard, her eyes laughing, " 'Cause you're a project, and I need a project." Putting her hand on his chest, she murmured, "C'mon, quit fuckin' around..." and raised her face to his.

Further retreat was just stupid; he'd learn nothing more without entering the trap, so he took the offered lips. They were big, pillowy and incredibly soft, and the tongue that came out to play was frisky, despite the ball piercing. She handled her tools well...

But then came the reminder that those WEREN'T her tools -- or at least, they weren't her professional ones. Tabitha stepped back and husked, "You know, hookers don't kiss johns. This is for fun..." Taking his free hand she started pulling him back to the living room, "How busted down is that couch?"

"Bad enough that I won't want to finish up there," Paul admitted as she plopped down and pulled him down beside her.

"Well, le's cuddle awhile," Tabitha returned, leaning against him. "Feel free -- this ain't a fight," she added, draping his left hand across her shoulders and over a breast.

Paul watched, bemused, as Tabitha tipped up her bottle and downed a swallow. He took a big pull from his and sat it on the coffee table. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"It means we ain't teenagers an' I ain't arguing with ya over whether we're gonna fuck, Honey. Jus' pretend you own it -- been there before -- an' the only thing you gotta worry about is keepin' me happy about it." She took another pull from her beer, "Jeezus, I gotta give you the play by play?"

"Okay," Paul cupped the offered breast. "You have to realize that it's unusual..."

"Not for me, Honey," Tabitha countered. "Bein' easy's in my job description." She lifted her chest, pressing into his hand.

Paul gave a quick squeeze to the offered breast and moved his hand to the blouse buttons. "Well, you said this was for fun -- you don't want to mess with the thrill of the chase?"

"Some other time," Tabitha replied, putting her beer on the table, " 'less you gotta have it..." That done, she used both hands to pull him in for another kiss.

Paul got a hand into the open blouse and absently fingered the upper slope of Tabitha's left breast while pursuing the kiss. The bra was a fairly formidable item of the push-up type; only a direct attack was going to defeat it, so Paul swept the hand down to her ribs, which displayed evidence of her thin build. "You need more meat on those bones," he declared as they broke the kiss. "I might break you."

"I'm wiry," Tabitha grinned. "You'll find out." She shrugged her way out of the blouse and popped the clasps on her bra, sliding it off, too. "Better? Open up, I wanna play with your joystick."

"Is there some kind of hurry?" Paul asked, nevertheless opening his fly and undoing his belt. "We've got all night..."

"I wanna see if I can get three by morning," Tabitha replied, nuzzling his neck while she reached into his fly. "First pass might be quick so we can figure out recovery time."

Freeing his cock from his boxers turned out to be a fight; Paul was already hard. Paul helped out a bit, then reached across and hefted a breast. Tabitha sighed. Handling man-meat was a familiar activity, and the big paw mauling her breast was gentle. "I gen'rally like my nips fucked with pretty hard, but what with the studs..." She jacked Paul expertly, sizing up his thick six inches. Yeah, it was a nice one -- firm, good-sized without bein' stupid. She was pleased with it -- it would have been embarrassing if the big beefy guy had had a little tiny prick. This one had a nice, fat head and was solid; she'd seen guys Paul's size who had high blood pressure, and the meds left them kinda flexible -- and bigger cocks, usually seen on bruthuhs, tended to the same thing. Apparently, it was all about blood supply... She shifted her attention back to the pleasant cradling of her left tit, "Maul 'em a little, le's see how they do, Honey." Paul shifted his primary attention from the area around the nipple to the nub itself, approaching it from above and below to avoid directly messing with the inserted studs, and started tugging and twisting, gently. Tabitha groaned, and he stopped, instantly, but she murmured, "S'okay. It hurts kinda good -- that itchy sore healing kinda thing. Actually, it ain't any different than what I'm used to -- jus' easier to get. Use ta have to bear down pretty hard..."

"Maybe they'll be more fun, then..." Paul stifled a gasp. Tabitha's hand, more or less on autopilot, was providing an incredible hand-job. "Hey, look, you're 'way too good at that..."

"Huh? Oh!" Tabitha stopped pumping and squeezed Paul's cock at the base in order to help him maintain control. "Better?"

"Yeah." Well, it was a matter of opinion, when you consider that the stimulation had backed off, but he apparently needed to save that cum for somewhere a bit less anonymous.

Tabitha sat a moment and grunted, "You know, Honey, this couch shit is for the birds. Le's go to bed."

"Okay." Paul stifled embarrassment at having to get up on loosened pants with his erect cock sticking out before him and got up to follow Tabitha. "Through there," he directed, pointing, "On the left."

Tabitha followed Paul's directions while divesting herself of her skirt, which left her standing in the middle of the bedroom in nylons, a garter belt and her shoes, which she kicked off as soon as she stopped. "Want these things?" she asked, indicating the stockings.

"I've never messed with them; they'd probably be a distraction," Paul replied.

"Fine. You be right, of course. We get goin', it'll jus' tear 'em up." Tabitha plopped at the foot of the unmade bed and began removing them. Glancing up, she added, "Why don't you get outta that stuff?"

Since he was holding his pants up, Paul dropped them, toeing out of his shoes as he kicked clear. It wasn't an exercise in speed; Paul was still wondering why they were approaching this so matter-of-factly, and was taking his time. No, it was purely convenience. He went ahead and got out of his shirt, leaving his boxers; Paul tended to wear underwear for the occasion -- briefs for work, boxers more for decoration. Realizing that he might end up in a variant of this situation had driven the selection of boxers tonight, and they had already been convenient, but one look said they weren't important to his 'date'. The unmade bed hadn't fazed her, either; Paul hadn't thought to straighten the mess there, and was embarrassed about it, but Tabitha just hitched herself up from the foot until she was comfortably draped with her feet on the floor and crooked a finger, smiling seductively. "Is this where you take advantage of me?" Paul asked, grinning.

"Somethin' like that," Tabitha agreed. "Why don'tcha take a look around?" She lifted and spread her knees in a pose best suited to a gynecological exam -- or heavy sex.

Paul stepped up and ran his hands down her inner thighs, then up along her sides, ignoring her kinky pubes and the territory beneath for the moment. With Tabitha basically on her back, her tits didn't look so floppy, but Paul wasn't that concerned; they FELT fine, and cradled well in his hands, which was what counted. Tabitha was the ebony side of chocolate -- semi- or even bittersweet -- and Paul had never had a black woman. She was painfully thin, to the point of being wasted -- some of which was due to her basic body type, and some of which was her lifestyle. Her ribs were prominent, not buffered by fat, and her belly was tight, sunken, and ridged with muscle visible from holding her upper torso and head up to watch him. Oddly, Paul found this sexy; very few of his female partners had ever approached being fit -- in recent years, he'd become used to having to work around substantial bellies and a certain lack of flexibility in his sex partners. And while Tabitha did still appear to be a bit wasted, she didn't appear frail; she'd described herself as 'wiry', and Paul agreed with the assessment.

Tabitha found herself wondering if Paul was just going to plug himself into her without even removing his boxers -- the move to caress her sides had taken her by surprise, and brought him in VERY close. She thought about holding him up and getting a couple of fingers before just taking in his pecker, but she'd been driving all night -- it was his turn. Objectively, she had no idea why she was here with him instead of, say, Scott -- something about this big bastard set her off, though. Maybe it was the muscular thickness of him; he was big, husky, without being fat. Maybe it was the brush-cut and his washed-out blue eyes, or that ridiculous moustache. Or maybe it was his air of competence; he moved through the jungle, aware of the predators, and well able to take care of himself -- and her, for that matter. He had a little, light-colored body hair, but not anything bushy -- just a patch on his chest, rings around his nipples, and a trail that disappeared into his boxers, which was the only thing either of them was wearing at this point. Tabitha couldn't put a finger on it, but he made her pussy itch to look at him; even that morning in the hospital, when she was in no shape to be touched anywhere, he'd caused her to be flustered -- something which had allowed him to overcome her natural reticence and get her signature on the release for the cops. Since then, she'd chased him shamelessly, using come-ons out of habit despite the fact that they embarrassed them both; while she really didn't want to treat him like a john, she just couldn't come up with any alternate method of getting his attention. God knew it'd been FOREVER since she'd been in a relationship where sticking it out there and being blatantly obvious hadn't been a winning tactic...

Paul was different, though. He was about as suspicious as they come, and there was no obvious damned reason for her to like him, so things hadn't been smooth and easy at all... Tabitha knew that the best thing she could do right now was keep her mouth shut and let him play. If it worked, it worked; if it didn't, talking would fuck it up for sure. Besides, his hands felt good... She sighed a bit, relaxing.

Paul had no idea what he was accomplishing -- after all, it was Tabitha's profession to make it look like he was some kind of sex god. How in the Hell was he gonna know the difference? He shrugged and passed his hands down her flanks again, not because it might please her, but because it pleased him -- God knew whether she'd tell him the truth if he asked her if it pleased her... Paul was more than a little bit intimidated -- all he could do was his best... Her splayed position kept him from working her ass, so he brought his hands up drawing them along the outside of her thighs from her waist to her bent knees, then back down along the outside of her calves. Sensing approval, he let his palms cross the tops of her feet and working them up the insides of her calves and back down her inner thighs. Switching to the backs of his hands, he let them drift up and down her inner thighs while he took stock.

Paul was pleased with Tabitha's body, on the whole; her feet were narrow and well-formed, rather than the flat puddles at the end of the leg so often seen on blacks. Thin as she was, she didn't approximate the rail- thin stereotype seen regularly -- obviously, at one point her legs had been well, if firmly, fleshed. Her thighs had distinct hollows, and were set on hips wide enough that there was probably a visible gap when she stood with her knees together; such easy access was probably of benefit to her in her profession, Paul mused. "What?" Tabitha asked at his short chuckle.

"Certainly easy to get to," Paul amplified.

"Been havin' trouble, Honey?" Tabitha chuckled.

"Let's just say you're a little more limber than what I'm used to." Paul went to his knees; it was time to examine the goods.

From close up, Tabitha's pussy was well-worn -- it might as well have had a 'ten million served' sign. The thin inner lips were loose and even darker than the rest of her skin -- totally black -- but they exposed a shocking pink interior, and the whole thing was clean and well-displayed under a neatly-trimmed patch of wiry pubes. Paul slid his thumbs along the fringed lips, pulling them open, examining her vaginal opening in surprise -- it looked as tight as the lips guarding it looked worn! Tabitha hissed, "That's nice... Why don'tcha feel around a bit inside..."

"You sure?"

"I'm hopin' for a good bit more than that, Lover!"

"Oh, all right." Paul inserted a finger in her tunnel, a three- or four-stage operation as she was tight and not that soaking wet -- but he was watching her eyes, and they didn't reflect serious injury. "How's that?" he asked as the lube picked up.

"Ummm, pretty good! What'cha think?"

"It's surprisingly tight..."

"Ya cain't peddle loose shit, Honey. They pass the word -- I'd be outta business in a month!" Tabitha chuckled. "Lemme guess, them cows you been datin' be all loose shit, too?"

"Well, not all of them. Most seemed pretty tight to start, as a matter of fact. But I expected you to feel kind of -- I dunno -- used?"

"Honey, that's an EDUCATED pussy!" Tabitha bore down on his finger, her opening nibbling at it. "That's the good shit!"

"Shit, I guess so!" Paul grunted. "So does this thing work?" He started working his thumb over her clitoris.

"Whoa! Holy shit!" Tabitha's eyes bugged.

"What?" Paul stopped as if stung.

"When I'm workin', I don't let johns fuck with that..."

"You're not working."

"Yeh, I noticed," Tabitha gasped. "Awright, go ahead."

"Why don't you... enjoy your work?" Paul asked, thumb once more at work.

"Hookin' is a service business," Tabitha gasped. "And I'm givin', not gettin'. 'Sides, fakin' a cum takes a lot less energy than gettin' one, five, six times a night. Mostly, though, it's 'bout not gettin' emotionally involved."

"How long has it been since you had sex for fun?" Paul asked gently.

"Long time. Uuuh! Looong time!" Tabitha undulated under the attack on her clit. "Even when it wasn't fer money, I took it out in trade... Uuuh! Doin' it too often to really be doin' it fer fun..."

"What do you do when... ?"

"Diddle. Uuh! You do that pretty good!"

Paul found himself wondering whether it was worth using his cock. "Well, if you don't really enjoy fucking..."

"Well, now, it's always been fun... It's kinda mental, ya know? Bidness is bidness..."

"And fun is fun?" Paul grinned.

"Uh huh." Tabitha was mauling her own nipples and panting hoarsely. "Been a few days on vacation. Work's... uuh... kinda been off my mind for a coupla days... Lordy! Right there!" Tabitha got stiff as a board, shook, and her eyes rolled up.

Paul chuckled to himself, thinking, 'Well, now I know what I'm shooting for... ' He kept working on her swollen clit and working his finger in her spasming tunnel while Tabitha jerked and thrashed. It took about a minute for her to visibly settle down; Paul let up and said, "So, that's the real thing?"

"Yeah," Tabitha gasped. "Cain't do that fer customers -- they'd rip me off while I was wasted, afterward..."

"I can see that." Tabitha was limp as a dishrag; Paul could feel it.

"That was good," Tabitha husked, "but it wasn't a dick."

"We'll get around to that," Paul replied. "How do you feel, inside?"

"Nary a twinge." Tabitha heaved herself up. "Lessee if this tongue thing adds to a blowjob."

The Astronomy Club meeting was winding down. "This isn't an all- nighter, is it?" Darla Jean asked.

"It is for us," Mary replied, "I'm taking Stick and Teddy back to my place."

"Us, too," Jimmy added, "Amy's staying the night. Danny and Thelma have the other bunk."

"Ummm, okay," Darla Jean murmured, "I, uh, didn't plan on it. What about you?" She turned her attention to Randall.

"Things are kind of... loose," Randall replied. He wasn't tied down to a particular time -- Astronomy Club meetings went all night regularly, and his parents had learned long since not to worry about them.

"Can you take me home, then?" Darla Jean asked.

"Yeah." In a perfect world, he'd have some smooth line that would result in Darla Jean riding him like a bucking bronco again, but reality didn't seem to offer it. "Be right back. Got to use the..." He waved toward the bathroom/changing room at the far end of the pool house.

"Let's go out and look at Jimmy's pool," Mary suggested, her eyes telling Darla Jean that she had more than that on her mind. "You can wait for Randall there..."

"Okay, I guess," Darla Jean replied, and headed for the door. Teddy hopped up, but Mary quelled him with a tight shake of her head; Stick picked it up and went back to his discussion with Danny.

Outside, Mary murmured, "Nice, huh?" eyeing the pool.

"Very."

"Jimmy would open it, I bet."

"I don't have a suit."

"Neither did Thelma or I, Prom night," Amy offered from the door. "We got wet, anyway."

Darla Jean eyed Amy. "You guys are still meddling."

Mary eyed her, "And we're wrong?"

Darla Jean looked flustered. "Look, we can't just do sex!"

"You know by now that he's capable of more than that," Mary replied. "I'm not trying to be pushy, but you don't want to get stupid, here, just because things started out backwards. Randall isn't Mr. Romance, but he's a good egg -- and his rep as a lover is going to make things suddenly easy for him in the short term, which will be a distraction. Nonetheless, he KNOWS who he's better off with, even if YOU don't!"

Darla Jean grimaced. "I do, too -- but you and I have talked. Despite Todd and Dwayne, I'm not sure I want to be exclusive yet, even if he IS a soul-mate."

Mary shrugged. "If there is a guy around who you can talk into NOT thinking with his gonads, it's Randall. I suggest that you take advantage of that, rather than just tossing the whole thing."

"Huh? How, exactly?"

"Be honest. Tell him you like him, but you're not done testing. Enter into a non-exclusive partnership. Each of you can play, but you anchor yourselves with each other. Try out the emotional piece, and see if it fits."

"And sex?" Darla Jean queried.

"I heard you," Amy murmured, grinning. "There were real fireworks, there! I bet each of you is using the other as the standard to measure others against. Maybe you ought to keep that fresh?"

Randall came out of the bath and looked around. Darla Jean was gone; Mary and Amy were missing, too, and Thelma was sliding out the door. Jimmy looked up, "Some kind of female thing, Man. Why don't you cool it until they come back?"

Randall shrugged and wandered over to Jimmy and Teddy. "Any idea what?"

Teddy shrugged. "Mary headed out of here with that look in her eye -- I think she's gonna try to paper over things."

Randall sighed. "Well, it was what it was."

"Actually, it is what it is," Jimmy interjected. "You want Darla Jean?"

"Well, yeah. She'd stomp the competition even if we were just having sex," Randall admitted. "Add everything else..."

"Okay, well, granted, your stock isn't doing too well at this point," Jimmy argued, "But I bet Mary is reminding Darla Jean that HERS is in free-fall, too -- and that you did the right thing about it."

"Okay, so? What do I do?"

"Well, she's probably between a rock and a hard place," Jimmy guessed. "She can't just open her legs -- that'd be cheap. But she'll want to, if Mary makes any impression on her. You need to pay attention and read the signals -- even the dim ones. Don't push her too much, but take anything she offers and ask for more. Work the other side, too -- friend and colleague, romance -- broad-spectrum attack. Dig?"

Randall nodded, thoughtful. Jimmy added, "Show a little confidence, too, Man. You've been there before. Don't go all limp on her. You heard them, earlier; chivalry is dead. If you're gonna use it, make sure you get something back."

"What do you mean?"

"Tit for tat, Man. I'm still learning, but it goes like this: You open a door for her, she owes you a kiss. Maybe it's just a peck, but she owes YOU, too! It's not a freebie because you're stupid and can be walked on." Jimmy grinned. "I started this with Amy a few days ago; you'd be surprised. They start thinking that they owe you, and it's a chink in the armor. It makes letting you get away with things more reasonable... You get the idea."

"Well..."

"There are other aspects," Jimmy added. "The more she nibbles on you in public, the less competition you'll have. And it's a mind-set thing. Pretty soon, she'll realize she LIKES to nibble on you. It only gets better from there..."

Teddy laughed. "Yeah. You and Amy are downright disgusting!"

"Yeah? You got any idea what YOU look like with Mary all over you all the time?" Jimmy challenged.

"Well, she does Stick..."

"And she does YOU, too!" Jimmy laughed. "She tends to be real touchie-feelie with you BOTH, which gets you noticed..."

Teddy sighed, "Well, I'm gonna stop worrying about it. Everyone who is important to any of us knows what we're up to, anyway."

Jimmy sobered. "I knew you were kinda sliding that way -- but Stick Williams?"

"It's, uh, unique, but it works," Teddy sighed. "I'm surprised you didn't freak at Danny..."

"You know, it never came up," Jimmy sighed, scratching his head. "I don't guess it's important."

"Him and Stick seem to be getting along..." Randall pointed out.

"Well," Teddy chuckled, "they have a couple of things in common: embarrassment, a lack of serious interest in astronomy, friends on site... I'm not any too worried that they'll pair up or anything..."

Randall strangled his attack of homophobia, "Sorry."

"Changes things a bit, doesn't it?" Teddy eyed Randall.

"It shouldn't. I apologize," Randall offered.

"Doesn't mean that any of us doesn't like girls," Teddy pointed out. "All three of us do. It's a range -- Stick and Danny, well, I wouldn't worry about them. If you wanted to worry about somebody, it'd be me."

Randall absorbed this. "Okay. I refuse to do that."

"Then we're all set."

Amy stuck her head in the door, "Jimmy? Can we go swimming?"

Ears perked up all over the room. "You KNOW what the swimsuit collection looks like," Jimmy warned.

"Come out here and we'll negotiate." Amy crooked a finger, and her eyes swept the room. All of the males started moving, various significant glances flickering between them.

Sales were more difficult outside. "I don't have a suit, either," Mary moaned, "and I look like the Goodyear blimp!"

Amy shrugged. "Teddy's seen you, right? Stick, too?"

"Of course."

"Well, these big floppy things are eye-magnets for boys, but they're pretty saggy," Amy replied, hefting her breasts, "so what?"

"At least you two have meat on your bones," Thelma complained. "I look like a skeleton in shrink-wrap! Thank God..." Thelma shut up and Amy chuckled. Thelma was superstitious about making any comment that made it sound like she took Danny's attentions for granted.

Darla Jean quirked an eyebrow, "What?"

"Danny sees her a little differently than most," Amy filled in. "Thelma hasn't figured out that she's a sex goddess yet."

"Didn't Danny just announce he was omnivorous?" Darla Jean queried.

Thelma blanched, and Mary winced, but Amy shook her head, "That was B. T. He's done. But he showed again what a good egg he is by taking the heat off Teddy and Stick."

"B. T.?" Thelma asked.

"Before Thelma." The subject of conversation appeared in the door, so Amy moved to others. "C'mon, Mary, suck it up! You can stay in the deep end."

"With the other whales?" Mary replied, but she seemed to be moving a bit.

"Look at the bright side," Amy replied. "We'll all get a look at Stick's harpoon. And Teddy's." She turned to Darla Jean, "Wanna see what you're missing?" She flicked her eyes at Jimmy.

"I've heard," Darla Jean laughed, "You just want to see whether or not I got the better end of the deal after all."

"Well, it's a paid admission thing," Amy laughed. "You KNOW the boys will all shuck if we do." She eyed Darla Jean closely, "Give it a chance."

Darla Jean got the hint. This was a prime opportunity to get sucked into an intimate situation without actively instigating it. The things Darla Jean needed to say to Randall were pillow-talk for after sex -- if she had to get all obvious about getting him there, it would take time or it would make her look slutty -- or both. A situation like this granted some plausible deniability -- she'd gone along to be with the group, things had gotten out of hand, etc. "I will if Mary will."