Let's Make a Deal Pt. 08

Author's note:

This is part of a long story. No part of it is intended to stand alone. I suggest starting with Part 1

In revising the whole story, I've corrected errors, but also filled in a lot. This has inevitably made it all even longer. My apologies to anyone who read it in the original form and now finds it changed for the worse.

If you're looking mostly for explicit sex, this probably is not the story for you, so why don't you just go on to something else? There is explicit sex in some parts, but even there it's not the focus.

Also, some parts contain religious discussions which will offend some people and bore others. If you're one of those people, again, why not go on to something else?

34. Music hath charms to soothe the savage beast.

Saturday, after a couple of hours at the office clearing up some details, Scott went grocery shopping, for himself and for Martha. He drove out of town on his way home and delivered the things from her list. He had sneaked a look at her laundry stuff, and he'd bought her laundry detergent, her usual brand (or the brand she had on hand, anyway) but unscented, as well as some staples she hadn't listed but he could tell she used. He didn't mention these things, just hurriedly left the bags with her before heading home with his own groceries. His own purchases were rather smaller than usual. He'd realized while shopping that he'd be eating meals with the women at least two or three days a week, and cut back, especially on perishables. Some of it he'd just transferred to what he gave Martha, of course.

He rushed through a few other errands and chores, feeling like the list was endless. For supper he just fixed himself a sandwich. By 6:00 he was at the dance space.

He was well before the time for the dance. A couple of weeks earlier, before he'd had any idea of the new complications of his life, he had agreed to play with the band playing that night. He had a standing invitation to sit in with this group whenever he wanted, anyway, but one of the guys, the guitar player, was out of town on business, and they'd asked him to play with them. Normally, if he sat in, he might get paid a few dollars, more of a thank-you from the band members than a share in their pay. He also got into the dance free that way, and he'd sit in maybe half the time. This time, he'd be lucky if he got to dance one dance, though that was allowable, but he'd get paid a fifth of the band's fee. Not big money, but nice. Bill, the fiddler, led the band, arranging bookings and everything else, and got a double share. Scott would have hated to have that job, no matter how much it paid.

Everyone else was arriving about the same time. They all greeted Scott with enthusiasm, not just the band but the folks there making sure everything was ready for the dance. The band tuned up and went over the set list. Bill had a list of likely dances from the caller, Tom, so their list didn't have to be much bigger than they expected to actually play. All these guys were experienced enough that they could wing it if they had to, and they'd played together enough that even things like solos could be taken on the fly, with Bill indicating who did what. Scott had similar standing invitations to sit in anytime from three or four other local groups, but this one he was especially comfortable with.

They warmed up and went through a sound check. Since Scott would be switching between guitar and mandolin, they had to play some tunes with him each way. The sound man and some dancers who came early to help said the sound was good. It sounded a little loud to Scott, but he knew that was because when the dancers were actually dancing, and the caller calling, they'd have to be loud enough to be heard. The overall level got turned down, while they warmed up on a few more sets of tunes before beginners started trickling in. He did remember to warn them all that his schedule had gone all unpredictable. He said he'd come when he could, but that he didn't want to commit for a while.

Tom and some of the early-arriving, experienced dancers began walking the beginners through the rudiments of contradancing. More beginners continued to arrive, as well as regulars. Some of those who were there for the beginner instruction had been there before, but still felt uncertain. It looked like there would be a good turnout. Ten minutes or so before the dance officially was to start, Tom asked the band to play, a little slowly, so that they could get the feel of dancing to music rather than just walking through the figures. He called the figures he'd been teaching, which were mostly the ones used in the first two dances, and which got them progressed down, and up, the lines. He pointed out again for the totally new ones how they would handle reaching the end of the lines.

Then it was time for the dance. The room was almost full. Tom called for people to find partners, then walked them through the dance twice, then called everyone to go back where they'd started. "Now, with the music," Tom called. Bill gave them four potatoes, bum-bumpa bum-bumpa bum-bumpa bum, and they launched into the first tune.

Scott and Chuck, the bass player, were holding down the rhythm, OK, though Scott enjoyed melody playing more. He got a few solos, and also played harmony to Bill, but mostly he was chording, bearing down on the off-beats. Fred, who played flute and whistle, could do basic guitar work pretty well, and used his guitar on one or two dances, leaving Scott free to do melody playing there. That night, Scott played way more guitar than mandolin. He was playing by memory and ear, tunes he mostly knew well, so he could watch the dancers, keeping an eye on Bill and Tom at the same time, and this let him vary the guitar rhythm quite a bit while keeping the underlying beat steady.

They played normal contradance music, jigs and reels, with marches or Irish polkas or hornpipes played as reels sometimes, depending on the dance and on what Tom asked for. Before and after the break, and at the end of the evening, they played waltzes. Some callers would ask for a polka or a schottische, very occasionally a hambo or even a mazurka, but Tom liked waltzes. Tom also slipped in an old-time square during the evening. He liked to do that. This made no difference to the band, really, as pretty much the same body of tunes was used for both. Though this was a singing call, which meant the specific tune was required and the band had to back off some on volume and intensity, and keep it simple.

Scott appreciated getting paid, but when he just sat in with the band he was happy to do it just for love of the music and the interaction with the dancers. Free admission to the dance, and whatever the band slipped him, were nice, but playing together and seeing how it got the dancers moving was the real joy for him. He'd meant to go dance one dance, but the time never seemed quite right.

The least enjoyable part of a dance like this, to the musicians, was when the caller taught it before dancing, but particularly with so many beginning dancers this was crucial, and it was just part of playing to sit and watch this happen. With a really experienced groups of dancers, the caller could walk them through a dance once, fast, send them back to where they'd started and have the band take it. A lot more dancing got done that way, and the band got no breaks at all, but it was a lot more fun for all concerned.

When the dance was over, he packed up as quickly as he could and went home. He had to get up early Sundays, and that was one problem with playing for dances.

35. Sunday Will Never Be the Same

Sunday morning, Scott managed to pack laundry bags along with his guitar and other things for church, and be there in time to set up for warmup on the morning's music. At the last minute, he also grabbed a few books from a shelf, stuck them in a grocery bag, and put them in, then added a couple of CD's. He'd already packed some clothes in a suitcase and put it in his trunk on his way out Saturday.

After church, when he'd packed up his guitar and other things, he drove off to Martha's house. He opened the garage door and parked in the extra bay. By that time, both of the women were out there to greet him. He handed Lynda the bag of books, and picked up his two full bags of laundry. Martha said, "I didn't know you played guitar! Should that go in, too?" He answered, "Well, I parked in the garage partly so it wouldn't sit in the trunk for a long time in the sun, but in the house would be even better. And the suitcase needs to come in, too." So she carried those in. Even so, he closed the garage behind them.

Once they were in, they both kissed him. Martha said, "You're earlier than we expected, which is great. Do you want to eat first, or other things?"

"Lunch sounds good to me. Breakfast was early, and I had a donut at church, too, but that didn't help much. But I'd like to change, first."

"I was thinking pretty basic for today, just sandwiches now. Lynda could get laundry started while we get it ready."

Scott went off to the study and changed into some of the clothes from his suitcase. He hung a couple of things in the closet, and saw the suitcases Martha had mentioned. He put the rest of the clothes he'd brought into one of them, and took what he'd been wearing, for church, down to Lynda in the basement, where the washer and dryer were. His church wasn't particularly formal, but he tried to wear nice clothes, and he kept them mostly separate from his other clothes. Of course, at work he also wore nice clothes, rarely very formal, so he realized that probably no one else would notice the difference, but he did.

When he came back to the kitchen, Martha came over and gave him a kiss. "While Lynda's still downstairs, I wanted to thank you again for what you did for her Wednesday and Thursday. I think you can see some of it, but you have no idea what it meant to her. Since she's been staying with me, and that's years now, I've tried hard to get her on an even keel emotionally. I've accomplished a lot. But it looks like you did more in two days. I doubt you've completely driven a stake through Ron's heart, her memories I mean of course, but I think she's put him behind her a lot more than I would have thought possible.

"I would have liked more attention myself, Thursday, but what you gave her was a lot more important. Thank you! It means a lot to me as well as to her."

When Lynda came back upstairs, she said, "What are these for?", holding up the books and CD's. Scott said, "I could be wrong, I didn't look at what you've got, but at a guess I probably don't much like the kind of music you've got. I don't know whether you can stand what I like, either, but I stuck in a couple of things. We could play one of them, or something you've got, during lunch, quietly enough that we could still talk. As for the books, again I don't know about you, but I enjoy reading aloud, or listening to other people do it, if they do it reasonably well. I thought that if it's OK, we could read from one of those. All this was a last-minute idea, and if nothing's acceptable, nothing's lost."

Martha went over and looked at the things. "I recognize some of the books, and I'd love it if you read from them, or probably anything you like. I don't know Max Bruch." He interrupted to tell her how it was pronounced. "The Respighi is wonderful. Why don't I put the Bruch on and we'll see?" She took it into the living room, and in a moment the opening strains of the concerto began.

She came back and started getting things out of the fridge. "For that matter, you could go in and look at the music I've got in there, while I get this ready." He wandered in, saw where the music CD's were—a much smaller collection than his—and started looking at them. A few, mostly fairly light classical things, some folk, some older rock, actually nothing he'd find too awful. He went back in the kitchen and said as much to her, as he washed his hands and started setting the table.

He told her, "I used to listen to rock, including hard stuff, when I was in college, but after we were married we kept the radio on a classical station all the time. I changed, and the music changed, and I really have tried to ignore everything popular for the last twenty years or so. What I do hear now I rarely like at all. It's strange, though. Some of the stuff I used to love I find totally unbearable any more, but some of it I still really love, even when I'm pretty sure I'd hate it today if I were hearing it for the first time. But for listening, I stick with classical and stuff like what I play."

"What's that, folk? Classical? I can't be sure from the case, but that looks like an acoustic guitar."

"It is, really, though technically it's an acoustic electric. Mics really don't work well for instruments unless you can hold your position relative to the mic. Otherwise, the sound changes every time you move. Not a problem for a piano, say, or even a string bass, mostly, but it's a big one for me. And of course mics pick up other things than your instrument. Well, that happens with a pickup on a guitar, too, if the other things are loud enough to vibrate the sound board—the pickup is just another kind of mic. But being able to plug in means that the sound guy isn't having to hover over your controls the whole time.

"Really, what I mostly play is folk, but it isn't what you probably think of when you say that. This is dance music, for contras and squares and occasionally some other related social dance types, and when I'm on guitar I'm mainly playing just rhythm. At church, I'm also just rhythm, but we use basically pop styles, a very different approach to accompaniment. Some I like a lot, much is OK, some I really don't like, but I'm not the one selecting the music, and I'm glad it's that way even when it's far from what I'd choose."

By this time Lynda had come in, early enough to have heard most of this. She put in, "OK, you said this is when you're on guitar. So what else would you be playing?"

"Mandolin is really my preferred instrument these days. That's when I'm playing for dances or something, I just play guitar at church. I can find my way around on piano and pennywhistle, and probably on harmonica but maybe not after all these years, but only enough to show someone what I want him to play, not well enough to seriously play. I really never played dance music on piano, the kind I play on mandolin or guitar, and I doubt I could keep up on whistle. Certainly not well enough to play anything more than basic melody. Of course, for folk dancing with a band, the piano plays almost all backup, and I haven't ever done that for real."

They sat down to eat. He looked at them. "You really want to listen to me pray?" They both nodded and took his hands. He gave thanks for the food and for the friendship and hospitality of the two women, and they commenced eating.

The Bruch concerto was still playing, and Scott asked them whether they liked it. Martha did, moderately well. Lynda said, "It's fine, but kind of tame." Scott thought to himself that "tame" wasn't a word he'd have expected anyone to apply to that piece, but tastes are tastes. He said, "This was and still probably is Bruch's best-known piece. In fact, I've heard an excerpt from one of his letters, or maybe a diary, where he expressed irritation at being asked to conduct it yet again. Something along the lines of, 'Please, please play something else, the second concerto or the Scottish Fantasy, anything but the first concerto.'

"The other piece on the CD is in fact the Scottish Fantasy, my first introduction to Bruch, and I utterly fell in love with it. It's pretty similar to this, actually. It's built around some Scots tunes. The last movement is the one that grabbed me, and what you hear most. It's based on 'Scots Wha Hae', best known as a song by Burns with those lyrics. But I've now played on a couple of the other tunes, for dancing I mean, and I really like most of it. We can stop listening to it at any point, of course. I brought the CD's on impulse, and there's no reason you should like it."

36. A mighty maze! but not without a plan;

Martha said, "Leave it on. We can talk in the meantime. You usually have a program, though you've been quick to toss it if we ask—thank you!—and you're the one in charge. But we talked some, and we had some ideas of our own. Do you want to tell us what you had in mind, or hear our ideas first?"

"Go ahead. I really didn't have anything specific in mind."

"Well, Thursday you took a long time with Lynda, as long as she needed, and that had me pretty interested even after dinner. And at your request, you used your mouth on me, and that was pretty wonderful, and then you came in. Lynda came up with the idea that you could, as you say it, eat her, but then just take me after that. She thinks, strange as it may seem, that she can be satisfied with just one orgasm!—if she gets to watch you with me right away. And I hope watching you two will turn me on so much that I can come too without so much work on your part, first time in a couple days for you—you poor deprived boy!. Then maybe something fairly quick, one or both of us, before you leave tonight, whether we get anything out of it or not. But we most likely will."

Scott said, "Sounds great to me. I hope it works as well as it sounds. But that reminds me. Martha, you proved me wrong, Thursday, and I need to thank you for it." Both women looked kind of puzzled. "I'd said that having you both, um, attending to me sounded good but I thought it wouldn't work. But when you jumped in and helped, in the middle, well, I didn't feel too bad about focusing on Lynda, since that's what I was supposed to be doing. I'd hate to have told you to do what you did, but when you just jumped in and did it, it was what I needed. Thank you."

They cleared the table. The CD had finished, and Scott had barely heard the Scottish Fantasy. Scott made dishwater and did some dishes, the few things they'd used but also the breakfast things that were in the sink or on the counter. The women went off and unloaded the washer into the dryer, and got a second load going.

They went into Martha's bedroom, after bathroom breaks all around. When they turned down the covers, Scott saw that Martha had done something different. Where they'd used bath towels to try to catch the mess, she now had what looked like a twin bed sheet, folded in maybe thirds or quarters, stretched across the middle of the bed and tucked in on both sides. Martha saw him looking at it, and said, "I thought I'd try this. It at least covers more and should stay put better. If it turns out not to be absorbent enough, I may try putting a towel or two inside it, next time." Scott kissed her, holding her for a moment and saying, "Thank you. I felt bad about the mess we left last time, even with those towels, but I couldn't think of anything better."

He sat on the edge of the bed, and Lynda kissed him. She was so very beautiful! He wanted to make sure he never let on to either of them that he found Martha more desirable, for reasons he didn't really understand himself. But Lynda's sheer physical beauty was sometimes almost enough to take his breath away, and that was before he touched her in any way, while she was fully clothed. It didn't take more than one long kiss to have him fully erect. He'd already been more than halfway ready just from talking and anticipating. He knew he'd have trouble holding back long enough with Martha, even with the condom.

He undressed her, a bit at a time, as they continued to kiss and fondle. She was careful not to give his penis too much attention. Obviously she remembered what he'd said that other time. By the time he sat her on the edge of the bed and prepared to zero in with his mouth, she was already panting somewhat. He did his best to add to the lubrication, especially outside the labia, and licked and nuzzled. He slid a finger up and down, and then in. After a short while, he pulled it mostly out and added a second finger. That was a bit too tight, he thought. He held them still, not very far inside, continuing to lick and nuzzle. She moaned, then again louder. He pushed his fingers a tiny bit farther in and left them still again, as he continued with his tongue and lips. Pretty soon she came, hard, and he just tried to hold still against her.