AAA+ Everything Box

Deanna, having moved the folding to the kitchen table next to me, said, "So, do all the girls coming over here clean your house for you?" She was smiling. Obviously, the answer was no since she'd seen the dirt as proof.

I shook my head and smiled in admiration, "Only the ones that are superwomen and will take over the world someday and become a matriarch to a giant family of world-taker-overs."

She nodded at my attempt at a compliment with a sly eye of knowing when she was being bullshitted. Still, she raised an eyebrow at me and repeated, "Giant family. Huh. Okay. Sounds like a challenge."

"We all have goals in life. I'm sure you have, like, life plans already?"

"Duh. Some of them are... more nebulous now that I'm closer to a decision point and yet farther from being certain. When I started college, my dad joked that I should be paying rent now."

I laughed. "Are you?"

"Nope, but I do have to help out grandma more than I want. She can't cut her own toenails anymore. Getting old kind of sucks."

"Better than the alternative - not getting old."

"True." She considered that. "So, you just want your chores done? What about your homework, too? Or, just hourly cock-suckings?"

"Not hourly, but... there is a certain... pressure."

She laughed.

Thinking, though, I added, "But not the homework part. I'm actually liking doing it now. I've been working on ... math, and physics? And, it's kind of fun. Like, way more than last year." I didn't add that I was a semester ahead in math and I'd done it mostly in the last week.

She nodded, then asked, "So, you have a dishwasher, but there aren't any racks in it, and it looks like it's from the cretaceous period."

"Yeah. I think it was broken when we moved in. Mom's had lots of car bills, this bill and that, one thing after another. You know. We never got around to it."

Moving her head that direction, she said, "That's not a hard thing to replace, you know. A cheap one is only a couple of hundred bucks. No frills, loud, whatever, still - workable. My uncle replaced ours last year, he's really handy. I watched him, though, and it didn't seem that hard. Dad gave him a case of beer and that was that."

She had a point. I might be able to do it. I demurred, "I'll think about it. Thanks for the suggestion."

Continuing, she said, "And, just so you know - your yard is totally overgrown. My cousins cut lawns, they could whip this place into shape. Probably wouldn't charge you much."

I shot that down quickly. "No chance. We have like Zero money. I had a job at the DQ over the summer, plus lawn mowing myself? Now, I'm out of it, no income. Not much cash for anything. With the recession, no one is hiring, either."

She'd finished folding laundry and got it all back in a basket, so she moved on to the fridge. She opened it and stared, then started moving things out to the counter.

"What are you doing?"

"Spills. Fridge shelves. Easy to clean with hot water, usually. Just keep me company."

I did more than keep company. It was a two person job. We danced around, washing and drying the glass refrigerator shelves.

After it was completely empty, she went to work on the inside walls. Her efficiency was amazing.

I had to ask. "Why are you doing this?"

"I see a problem, I fix it. It's the Renselatt way. Dad always says that, anyway."

"Your family is... Irish? Uh...?"

"Some French, I think. G'granmere only spoke French." She pronounced that as, 'Frrahnch' with a lightly-rolled 'r'.

We chatted as she cleaned, and pretty soon the fridge was bright and clean. I'd found one appliance bulb of a two pack in the junk drawer and that made it light up better. I'd also taken the chance to throw out some things that weren't... new. The open space looked nice.

Mom was going to love this.

"Is your mom coming down again?"

"Uh... Probably not. I think she..." I realized why she wasn't, but I didn't want to say.

"What?"

"Well, a couple of days ago? I had... someone over, and we were, kind of, HERE, but we shouldn't have been here, doing what we..."

"NO! In the kitchen?"

I smiled weakly, "Uh, yeah. It was good, really. No, great, actually, and kind of spontaneous... I'm a little embarrassed to describe it, but.."

"Don't fail me now! Details!"

"Uh, so she was on the table, and I was..." I gulped, there was no genteel way of saying this. "Uh, down on her? I was licking? And, she loved it, you know. So, she was kind of loud, maybe, and her legs were up, on, like, over my ears? So - I didn't hear my mom come in."

"Did your mom freak?"

"No, she's really laid back about stuff. Just kind of rolls with everything."

"How'd you find out, that she was in the room?"

"She -- the girl? -- she'd stopped, uh, screaming? I guess, like she opened her eyes I guess, and ... I'm watching her look up and then I hear her say to my mom, like, _conversationally_!!!, she says, "Oh, hi Mrs. Bolton!"

Deanna was laughing her ass off, but her eyes were also soft like she was commiserating, empathizing with me. "And, let me guess. Were you dressed?"

"No."

"Ooooooooo, yeah. That's gonna... Yeah. Might be a thing."

"Mom hasn't said a word."

Deanna's recognition, at that moment, that there was something going on with my ability to persuade people to do things, flashed in a few moments behind her eyes, like, she knew that I had to be doing something practically magical.

She didn't say anything, though.

One of Carol's ideas in the instructions was to regard everything I did as pretty close to totally normal, and confidential. What we didn't include was the fact that other people around me were not doing normal things. No normal mother would do what my mom had done, and certainly not Deanna's mom.

It was near bedtime, so I changed the subject. "I need to read some stuff for tomorrow, so, maybe, we could get ready for bed."

Deanna raised an eyebrow and licked her lips, twisting her body slightly in an obvious reference to herself, "Do you want a late-night snack?"

I had to laugh, too, but said, "YES, definitely, but Not, I think, Here. Tonight at least."

We both carried laundry baskets up and she help me put them away in my closet and big chest of drawers.

This led to a discussion about how I didn't probably need clothes that were 5 sizes too small anymore, and it turned out Deanna was a bigger help than I thought she would be.

Later, after we'd showered and gotten into an (again) fresh-sheeted great-smelling bed, lights out and naked, lying side by side staring at the ceiling, she asked me, "I know it's normal for YOU to be having girls over every night, and I do feel special that I get to be one, don't get me wrong, this is so very cool, but... do you miss having one person?"

I thought about it. I said, "Yeah, well, Uh... I have Carol, sort of, as a special person I come back to, but everyone is new and fun and special -- body, mind, spiritually, whatever way, they're great, and I'm really loving getting the chance to know people."

"And have passionate sex with them."

"Hopefully. Not assuredly, but hopefully."

Here we were getting close to the idea that it was assured, and she kind of knew that, on some level.

Another of Carol's instructions was to treat anything about me as confidential. But, that didn't mean she couldn't talk with me about it.

She asked, obviously meaning about the sex, "You can..."

"Yes?"

"Make me."

"Do you not feel like that?"

"No! No, not at all! I mean, I do, feel like it. It's just... you COULD, like, MAKE me. If I didn't want to. I think. I think you could. I know you never would, that's... I know, deep down, with a kind of assurance, like, SO certain, that you are someone I totally, utterly trust. I don't know why. I don't even know why I know it, I just do."

Then, the kicker.

Contemplatively (she was figuring this out as she was talking, I think), she said, "You could have told me to trust you, as an order? And, to forget it? So, maybe I'm doing this because you're manipulating me. But, I'd never know. I have to be, I think, over-trusting you, since my rational sense is I'd NEVER do this."

"Even with a long-term boyfriend?"

She huffed, "Ha! If we could get away with it, sure. But, my parents? Not happening. Not until I'm graduated and moved away at least, which is why I figure I'm going to either do graduate school or just move to Montreal and be done with Freakin' Manitoba."

"I like it here?"

"Sure, it's great, but I want something Different. I speak enough French, I think, I should be able to get by. Far away from my parents, that's a Good Thing."

I nodded. She sighed and was quiet for a minute.

"But... Now? You just told my parents that I can have as much sex as I want and they should like that, and... they accepted it."

"You object?"

"WOW, no!! Not at all! I know you mind-warped them. I'm pretty sure you did me, too. I can feel it, that my intellectual sense is questioning this whole thing but my emotional center, my love-center, my heart? That's... SET on you, utter and dead-on absolute positive that you are some kind of epic new person I just HAVE to know, and ... it's true, you do get my breath all caught up when I look at you -- but I'm not normally like this?"

I turned over towards her and hugged her to me, letting my hands roam over her soft skin, gently, gliding but firm caresses over her ribs, forward, around her back, and front, finding her breast and cupping it, not touching the nipple but letting the sheet do the touching as I moved it, then down again.

My cock was on the side of her leg, my attention on her body, and my face nearing hers.

She asked, "What do you ... want?"

I knew the implied direct object was 'from life', so I answered as clearly as I could think. "Love? I think. Learning... It's fun. Uh... Helping people in some way, maybe helping mankind somehow? Really, I'm probably not that far off from normal - you know, finish college, find a career, big family, house, maybe in a bigger town, whatever. That's the eventual stuff, not sure what my schedule is. I think I'm speeding up the normal schedule in terms of dating, but hopefully I'm going at the right pace... For You..."

My hands found their way south and stroked her legs, not to the center, not grabbing up at anything, but pulling and touching and making her want it.

And, she did want it. Her hand went down on her own to help herself, then moved my hand, guiding me from her thigh upwards, to cup, and dip, and glide, and roll, and ... repeat.

Her breath came more rapidly. My cock was definitely hard. She stopped my motions, got down, and sucked me enthusiasm until I came, slurping and swallowing and humming with satisfaction. She lay beside me, then, and paused, but still played with my cock so it didn't really go down.

Her straddling me and tucking me back and inwards gave me another great view. I really liked looking up at boobs and just squeezing them as my dick slowly got bounced on.

I moved my hand down to help out, using my thumb on her clit, but her moving up and down made the angle and access hard. I even tried to put a little power into the idea, inventing a 'psychic probe' or something to stimulate her clit with my brain, but, alas, that wasn't in my wheelhouse.

She did come, upon my Big-O, whereupon I came as well, thrusting up into her soft wet but very mobile firmness.

Sleep came easily. I hadn't gotten enough over the weekend.

== Chapter: Sunday Morning ==

The next morning, again we danced through the shower routine, though I was getting the hang of giving instructions about how the morning would go.

Mom gave both of us giant hugs as we came downstairs to have breakfast (eggs and English muffins). She thanked us profusely so we walked to school with more than a little pride in a job well done.

Carol met me on the steps into the main building where we usually met up.

"You're getting noticed."

"How?"

"You walk to school with a different girl all week long, and it's going to get noticed. This isn't a big town."

"Oh." I thought for a minute. I didn't know why it was a mystery, I should have thought of it. There were more nosy people in my town than streetlights.

Carol waited for my answer and (getting my shrug), said, "Well, whatever we do, whatever you do, the rumors are not nice about the girls you're walking with. It's ... really mean, actually. And, since I'm your girlfriend, supposedly, I'm getting name-called as well."

"Maybe I'll just ride my bike to school instead of walking with them?"

"No good. People are watching now, so if a girl walks from a different place than her own house, well, you know."

"Right." I had to think on this one. Really, I needed a car...

"It's not that bad yet. Just a few rumors. But, it's enough. If people see it again, they'll start it much worse, and any girl that goes over to your house is going to end up a total pariah."

[ I didn't say anything then but I loved that Carol used words like 'pariah' ]

We walked into the school. "Maybe... Cancel appointments for the next several days? I'd love to sleep next to you or Kate if you can, but if ..."

Carol's eyes lit up, "Oh, no, that's fine!" Her eyes darted sideways, considering something, "Kate won't mind, but we'll have to work it out."

Just before we broke off, she said, "Oh, we have to sit alone at lunch. Stuff to tell you."

We kissed and headed off for our classes. The kiss was noticed, barely, but people standing near us, I think, but it was really hard to know what people were really thinking about. I suspected the vast majority of it was entirely self-involved.

Morning classes were boring and I was having a great time reading the rest of my physics book. My problem-working was in a spiral notebook, and I was liking how easily I could apply some of the calculus I'd been working on to the physics problems.

The trouble was, I got caught.

In calc, she was prattling on about something basic, and I was only sort of paying attention. For some reason, I got it in my head to try to figure out the field strength of a football (soccer ball, for those from the States).

That is, each if each of the hexagons on the surface didn't actually touch, but were geometric shapes extending to the center, with each one having an opposite electrical charge. It just kind of occurred to me when I was reading about Maxwell's equations, and how Gauss' law would affect each hex individually.

The math was kind of hairy, especially when I started thinking about the path an electron would take if I fired one at the ball from outside.

This meant a fair amount of doodling, which I could do while almost-paying-attention, but I got lost in my imagination and heard my name.

"Mr. Bolton."

I looked up and saw a set of problems on the board. One of them was, "1/a + 1/b = 3/2018" and "Integers a, b"

Realizing that people were looking at me, like I should know this, I ... hadn't seen that one before. The pressure built, like, social pressure, that I had to say SOMETHING, even if it was wrong. I looked at it, but, really, nothing... until...

Something clicked and I saw a way around it, "Uh, maybe use ... if ...Hmmm... 1009 is prime, so... one pair is, 1009 and 2018, it's one. Oh, and reverse, 2018 and 1009. Then, multiples of 1009, I think. Just, like, 2 of them, looks like."

My teacher, Mrs. Swern, nodded at me with a confused, almost apprehensive look. She said, "Okay. Great." She took a breath and said, "Anyone else have a different solution?"

The way she said it meant she didn't really expect anyone else to get it, and no one did, so she kept going, erasing that one and putting up some other thing about factoring some long cosine thing.

Playing it back in my head, I realized what I'd done wrong. I wasn't supposed to know that answer. I hadn't had that yet. The problem seemed too hard for a normal math class.

I tried to pay attention during the rest of class, but I couldn't. I realized I was blushing and embarrassed.

As the bell rang, Mrs. Swern pointed at me, accusingly, to come up to her desk. Someone noticed and said (like I was getting in trouble), "ooooooo!"

When people had cleared out, she looked at me. I'd never touched her, on purpose. I was trying NOT to touch people. She sat at her desk and got out her grade book, leaving me to stand there, waiting. "Right. B-, C+, A-, B, ... Inconsistent." She looked up at me, "Not anywhere near your potential. Why are you crapping on me?"

"Uh, what?"

"You're purposefully dogging it. I'm not an idiot. I walked by your desk several times, over days, and I'm seeing you writing. I think, fine, he's doodling. Odd scribbles, spheres, whatever, you're drawing things. I'm cool with that, kids do that all the time. Then, I noticed double integrals, partial diff-eq. Today, you had some linear algebra, matrices, and it looked like you were struggling with another partial differential. It wasn't surprising you were struggling - that was a hard one. I know what I'm looking at, I have a bachelor's in math."

I nodded, admitting to it.

She cocked her head to one side, then stood up and led me to the chalkboard. "What's Newton's method of positive positioning?"

I actually didn't know that one, so she put an equation on the board, kind of an odd one. I'd seen the notation before, but the problem wasn't that hard. "I'm guessing -- you're applying two compounding rates here, so that's... this, maybe?" I wrote what I thought was the solution. "Seems right. The areas cancel out, and it just turns into trig."

Her breath kind of inhaled. "You've never seen this problem before?"

I shook my head no.

"Oh." She stepped back a little. "I... wow. Uh, here, Mr. smarty-pants. Do this one." She wrote again. The bell rang; I was missing history. "Relax. I'll write a note."

I looked at the problem. I didn't get it. It had no solution. "Null set. No solution. Can't work. Middle lemma prevents the other two from being true. Like the four-colors map problem."

She nodded. "Why are you here?"

"Huh?"

"You don't ... you don't need this class, why are you here?"

"I want to fit in."

She smiled. "Yes. I can help you with that. You want math tutoring?"

"Sure!"

"What in?"

"Some partial diff-eq is... odd." I rolled my eyes, "And... stats. I'm having trouble with stats. The book I have doesn't explain very well and online it's confusing, too."

She wrote something on another slip of paper and handed it to me. "Call me, my cell, anytime you have a question."

"I'm up kind of late sometimes..."

"Whenever. Middle of the night, I'll answer. Just ask the question, I'll do what I can, and go back to sleep. It's no problem. One thing, though."

I looked at her with an implicit "?"

"When you write your first published paper, I want a mention. Just my name. That's all. Then, it's an even trade."

I laughed. I wasn't planning on writing any papers, so I shrugged. "Deal."

She held out her hand to shake, but I backed away, "No shakes. Deal, though."

== Chapter: Monday Lunch ==

Carol was waiting for me at the table at lunch, like usual. This time, though, she showed me her phone.

The total amount received made my eyes bulge a little. The funds transfers summed over $10,000 already (though it was near the first of the month).

"Kevin, you've got to get a business bank account, and pay taxes. The RCMP or inland revenue is going to find you and throw away the key."

I had to agree. "I need a company name, and... an accountant? Maybe?"

"After school. Skip practice, you're 'still hurt'."

"What about you?"

"I know, I missed the girl's meet on Saturday, just like you. Coach has to know something's up. She'll really know, and the rest of the team, if I don't work out today."