Next Man Up

^^^

Note from the author: One of the characters in this story has autism.

I'm not doing this to exploit her, make fun of her, or earn brownie points. The plot requires someone with specific characteristics, and she fits the bill.

I could have chosen a non-autistic person, but why should I have to? I've written stories about left-handed people, hairy women, blacks, whites, guys with small dicks, etc... I see no reason to make autistic characters off-limits.

She will be treated with the respect I give to all my characters. I will show her strengths. I will not hide or gloss over her weaknesses.

Oliver Cromwell is reported to have told the artist about to paint his portrait, 'Paint me as I am, warts and all'.

That is my approach. No one gets a free pass. If seeing an autistic woman held accountable for her words, actions, and sexual decisions will upset you, you should pass on this story.

^^^

"It wasn't supposed to be this way," Cliff murmured in a voice so low no one heard him.

He was in the hospital delivery room with his daughter-in-law and her team of caregivers. The mother-to-be looked like a marathon runner nearing the finish line. She was hot, sweaty, and noisily sucking air in through her mouth. She looked exhausted.

"Here we go," the doctor said. "One final push."

The doctor delivered the baby, checked it, and handed it to a nurse. After a quick cleaning, the nurse wrapped the child in a towel and held her up for Scarlett to see.

"YOU have a beautiful baby girl!" the nurse said enthusiastically. She placed the baby on Scarlett's chest.

Mom managed to smile as she looked at her offspring.

Cliff was escorted out of the room. The staff did the rest of the things that needed to be done.

Three hours later, he was allowed to visit the mother and child. Scarlett looked better. She had rested and showered. She was sitting up in bed and holding the infant in her arms.

When she saw Cliff, she said, "Little Gwen is adorable, but this is not how it was supposed to be."

"I know."

^^^280 days before^^^

Cliff stood naked in his bathroom.

The fit fifty-three-year-old man gargled and spat the mint mouth rinse into the sink. He looked into the mirror, grabbed his comb, and ran it through his thick sandy-colored hair.

He picked up a bottle of cologne. It was a gift from his deceased wife. "No. That wouldn't be right," he said, and he put it down.

He opened the door and stepped into his bedroom. A young woman was waiting for him. The petite brunette lay naked on freshly washed sheets.

He looked her over.

She was less than half his age. She was pretty. Her long straight hair reached two inches below her shoulders. It wasn't long enough to cover her breasts. He got a good view of her modest, distinctly feminine set. She had a mass of black pubic hair between her slim thighs.

Neither spoke.

He walked up to the bed and stood there with his limp dick hanging out. He looked nervous and ill at ease.

She looked at his flaccid cock, rolled onto her stomach, and crawled to him. She grabbed his prick and gave him head.

"Damn!" he murmured. He said to himself, "She's good at this. If cock-sucking or sex is one of her areas of intense interest, I'm in for a great night."

His eyes drifted down to her small, firm butt. He leaned over and patted it.

It didn't take her long to get him hard. When he had a firm erection, she flipped around, got on her hands and knees, and presented her ass to him.

He noticed her slit glistened, and the pubes around her labia were wet. He thought, "I didn't cause that. She must have masturbated while I was in the bathroom." He took his wet cock and slid it inside the attractive young woman.

"Ahhh," they sighed.

She pushed her butt into him and claimed all of his dick. She rocked into him. He started to thrust.

The bed squeaked, and the sound of heavy breathing filled the room as they had sex.

"Oh, God!" he moaned. He grabbed her hips and drove his dick into her faster and more forcefully. He ejaculated and filled her with his spunk before she achieved an orgasm.

She put her head on the bed and maintained contact with him until his dick shriveled and slipped out.

He sat on the bed.

She rolled over, sat beside him, and said, "See you tomorrow." She got up and walked out of the room.

^^^

The following evening Cliff was naked and in bed waiting for his paramour. He had placed some pillows against the headboard and reclined against them.

She entered the room, slipped a soft robe off her shoulders, and let it fall to the floor.

"Wow," Cliff said as she saw her nude lithe body. Her dusky-colored nipples were hard.

She climbed into bed, grabbed his cock, and said, "You're hard."

"Yes. Sorry about yesterday. I was nervous."

She released his penis, got on her hands and knees, and swung her hips around so he could take her doggie-style.

"Wait," he said. "I know we agreed there'd be no kissing. Can I suck on your breasts? Please climb on top of me, ride me, and let me enjoy your boobs."

"You want to suck my nipples?"

"Yes. I'd like it very much."

"Okay."

She spun around. She sucked his dick long enough to wet it so penetration would be easier. She straddled the sandy-haired man, and impaled herself, going slowly.

"Mmm," she moaned as she took his cock inside her.

"Oh!" he gasped.

She leaned forward and placed her hands on the headboard. Her breasts were near his face.

Cliff extended his neck and suckled on her stiff peaks. His lips kissed and explored the soft flesh of her breasts and nursed on her hard nips. He lay still and focused on her twin feminine treasures as she bounced on his cock.

They stopped when he came inside her.

^^^The next night^^^

Cliff opened the bedroom door and stepped inside.

"I am not ready," the young brunette protested.

She was on the bed, naked, and her right hand was in between her legs.

Cliff came to her. She looked at him wide-eyed. He gently grabbed her wrist and pulled her hand out of her crotch.

"I am not wet enough for intercourse," she stated.

"There is another way to prepare you," he said.

He sat on the bed, lowered his head to her sex, and licked it.

"No. That is too intimate."

He stopped, looked at her face, and said, "I am an old man. May I know the pleasure of tasting you? It will achieve your goal, and prepared us for what comes next."

She considered his words and nodded.

Cliff breathed deeply, inhaling her scent, and brought his lips and tongue to her gash.

"Oh," she moaned softly.

He feasted on her sex, enjoying the aroma, savoring her tart flavor, and loving the small sounds she made as his tongue caressed her clit. He stayed there longer than necessary to prepare her for penetrative sex.

He brought her to the brink of orgasm, stopped, and quickly climbed on top of her. He thrust his organ inside her.

"Ohh!" they cried out.

She clutched him. She wrapped her arms around his back, raised her legs, and hooked them around his ass. She pulled him to her as she thrust her sex against him.

"Oh, oh, oh," she grunted as they rutted.

"Ohhhh!" she hollered as she came.

"Ahhh!" he exclaimed and filled her pussy with his sperm. He collapsed on top of her.

They gasped for air. He kissed her neck.

"No kissing," she reminded. She scrambled out from under him, and rushed from the room.

^^^2007^^^

"Dad, I'm joining the Marines," Marcus said.

"What?" Cliff said as he looked up from the newspaper.

"I don't see the point of finishing college," the twenty-year-old said. "I've been there two years, and I don't know what I want to major in. I feel like I'm treading water.

"I should have signed up after high school as Tim and Terry did. They are making a difference, fighting terrorists in Iraq and Afghanistan."

"You promised your mother..."

"I know. I will finish my education when my enlistment is over. It'll be a heck of a lot easier. The G.I. Bill will pay for it."

"Don't worry about the money."

"That's not the reason. I need to get my shit together. Since Mom passed, I've been adrift."

"You and me both."

"This is a good thing...for me...for my country. I'll be doing something important."

Cliff stood, hugged his son, and said, "I understand. I'm proud of you."

^^^four years later^^^

"I hardly recognize you," Cliff said as he hugged his son.

"I'm dirty and haven't shaved in days," Marcus said.

"No. There's a different glint in your eyes. You left as a boy, and you returned as a man."

The two husky, sandy-haired men embraced.

At dinner that night, Marcus said, "While in the Marines, I learned about data analytics."

"In my day, the Marines were all about push-ups, midnight marches with full packs, and being yelled at by your drill instructor."

"I got plenty of that," Marcus said. They shared a laugh.

"Every organization benefits from improving operations, cutting costs, streamlining operations, and generally maximizing the efficiencies of their machinery and personnel. I'm going to college and get a master's degree in data analytics."

^^^2013^^^

In Marcus's final year at the university, fifteen other students were seeking the same degree. They could be counted on to be in the specialized classes with a few interlopers. The regulars got to know each other because, in business school, group projects are a way of life.

Scarlett was a studious, slim woman with bangs and long, jet-black hair. She caught Marcus' attention because, unlike the other women in the class, she made no effort to make herself attractive. She wore no makeup, her hair was always in a simple ponytail, and she didn't wear stylish clothes.

He took that to mean she was serious about her studies and not here to get an MRS degree. He saw many young women at the college who appeared more interested in finding a husband than in pursuing academic achievement.

A second reason he noticed her was that when the teacher called on her, she had the correct answer.

He worked on a couple of group projects with her. He saw that she had a gift for data mining, collecting, scrubbing, and analyzing gigantic caches of raw data.

To Marcus, she was the perfect person to partner with on projects. Others avoided her because she was different. To put it politely, she wasn't a 'people person'.

After class one day, Marcus approached her and said, "Hello, Scarlett, we have another group project. Want to partner up?"

She studied him before answering.

"Okay. We need two more participants. Will you find them? People like you. Me, not so much."

He nodded. She gathered her things and walked away.

Marcus filled the other slots with intellectually curious people who had taken the class to get a taste of data analytics. They didn't have a deep knowledge of the field and were not sought after by the other groups.

The four of them made a good team. Marcus and Scarlett did the heavy lifting. Tom had a background in financial consulting and a talent for creating spreadsheets. Marcia was interested in marketing.

Marcia and Tom constructed the PowerPoint presentation. She delivered it to the class, and Marcus and Scarlett answered the tough questions. The professor heaped praise on the group and told the class, "That was excellent. I hope the rest of you can match the standard they set."

The class ended, and the group gathered their things.

The professor came up to Scarlett and Marcus and said, "Companies want me to do projects for them. I have a request from one now." He tapped his jacket pocket.

"I no longer have the time. You have the skills. You could knock it out in your spare time and earn a nice chunk of change. Interested?"

"It's certainly worth considering," Marcus said.

The teacher reached into his pocket, pulled out a letter, and said, "Look this over. If you're interested, call them. Tell them I recommended you. If you decide to pass, drop the letter off at my office."

He gave the letter to Marcus and hurried away.

Scarlett looked at Marcus and asked, "What is 'chunk of change'?"

"Freedom."

She still had a quizzical look on her face.

"We have an opportunity to earn money by doing a data analytic project for a company. It'll be just like the class project we just finished, but this time, we get paid."

"I like data analytics," Scarlett said. "I find it fascinating, and I am good at it."

"You are very good at it. You have a gift. Let me look into it."

She nodded.

^^^

Marcus called the company, discussed the project, and listened to their offer. They came to terms. He talked to Scarlett about it, and she was on board. They completed it out in a couple of weeks.

"Scarlett, the customer is satisfied with our analysis," Marcus said. "Here is your share of the money." He handed her an envelope with cash.

She didn't look at it. She put it in her purse.

"Can I buy you a beer tonight or take you out dancing to repay you for your hard work?" He spoke in a jesting manner.

She heard his words as a serious offer and said, "I am busy tonight, but if you want to do something for me be my plus one on Saturday. My cousin is getting married, and I was told I should bring someone because weddings are a celebration of coupling."

"Oh. Okay," Marcus said, surprised.

"The wedding is at five o'clock. Dinner is at seven, and there is a party afterward. I planned on having an early lunch and leaving at noon. It is a two-hour drive. We will check into the hotel and rest. I will meet my mother at 3:00 to do my hair and makeup and become presentable. We will leave at 4:30 to go to the church."

"I see. You have it planned well."

"I like routines and schedules."

"What is the name of the hotel you're staying at? I'll call and get a room."

"The wedding party is taking over the Meadow Inn. All the rooms are taken. I have space for you."

"Okay. Want me to drive?"

"I like to drive. Give me your phone."

Marcus unlocked his phone and handed it to her. Scarlett typed and said, "I gave you my phone number and address. Meet me at noon on Saturday. Do whatever guys do to prepare for a wedding. Mother says that Friday night I should shave my legs and pits."

Marcus grimaced.

Scarlett noticed and said in a flat voice, "Did I overshared? Sorry for making you feel uncomfortable. I have autism. Do you know anyone who is autistic?"

"No."

"My brain is not wired like yours. I perceive things and react differently than you. We could argue over who is defective, but since there are more people like you, you are considered normal, and I am judged not.

"We can come across as awkward, emotionless, socially clueless robots. Some on the autism spectrum do not make eye contact, speak in a monotone, and have trouble communicating.

"We are not adept at reading body language and facial expressions. We do not understand nuances and figures of speech. Phrases like 'The early bird catches the worm' confuse us.

"We focus on the words and wonder, 'Why are you telling me about a bird?' I miss the rest of the conversation, thinking about this bird.

"We speak honestly. Sometimes, brutally honest. Do not ask me if I like your shirt or haircut. I will answer without any concern about hurting your feelings. You ask; I answer. You will get the truth.

"I was providing information when I said I will shave my body Friday night. It was not said to embarrass or titillate you."

She shrugged her shoulders and added, "I do not always know when I have said something inappropriate."

Marcus smiled and said, "I like your straightforwardness. We'll get along just fine. I'm not a big talker, so you won't have a lot of words to interpret. I've been in combat. It'll take more than sharing too much information to upset me.

"If I have a problem, I'll tell you, so feel free to speak your mind. If a situation develops, we will address it directly."

Scarlett said, "Thank you."

^^^

Saturday, Marcus showed up on time. They loaded the vehicle and hit the road. During the drive, they traded information. She learned Marcus was twenty-six years old, had lost his mother, still had a father, and that he'd been in the Marines.

He learned that Scarlett was twenty-one and an only child raised by a single mother. The bride was her cousin, Carolyn. She was the eldest daughter of her mother's sister, Christina.

"The groom is a man named Tommy," Scarlett said. "I have not met him. My mother says he is handsome. She hopes that someday I will meet someone, get married, and give her grandchildren.

"I am not sure that that will happen. I do not date. I am too busy with school and my hobby, astronomy."

"I'm interested in astronomy too. When I was in the army, I often sat outside and looked at the stars.

"It is great, right?" Scarlett said suddenly animated. He had not seen her so excited. She said, "I am completely obsessed with planets, stars, and galaxies. I spend hours watching YouTube videos about astronomy."

"I don't watch hours of videos, but I've checked out NASA and SciShow Space."

"Those are good. Have you seen Fraser Cain?"

"No."

"You have to. Do you have a telescope?"

"No."

"I have an Orion XT 10i scope. It is big enough to give a good view of the universe. As for eyepieces, I have a few 82-degree ones from Explore Scientific. The ultrawide design keeps planets in the field for a long time at the higher powers, and at the low powers, it is great for viewing star clusters, nebulae, and galaxies.

"With a 10" Dobsonian, I can see every object in the Messier catalog and many NGC objects. It shows a lot of details of the brighter galaxies and nebulae. It is good for star clusters too."

"Wow! You know your stuff."

Her face reddened, and she said, "I do. You probably have many interests and hobbies. Autistic people tend to have one or two interests, and we become hyperfocused on them. I am obsessed with data analytics and with astronomy."

She smiled and added, "Given the chance, I will geek out and talk about them for longer than anyone cares to listen."

He smiled and said, "We have another hour until we get to the hotel. Scarlett, tell me about astronomy."

She did.

Thirty minutes later, he said, "Scarlett, you have told me so much about astronomy that my head is spinning."

"Spinning?" she said, seeking clarification.

"Obviously, my head is not spinning. Let me say it another way. Thank you for talking to me about astronomy. I've heard enough for now. Please stop."

"Okay."

"Was I too harsh?" he asked.

"No. I prefer simple direct words. Be literal, clear, and concise. Avoid slang, nuances, and idioms like 'It's raining cats and dogs'. Also, I have a problem recognizing when someone is joking or being sarcastic."

"That must make understanding people difficult," Marcus said.

"Imagine," she said. "You are playing a game with a group of people, and no one will tell you the rules. Every time you say something, they say you got it wrong, laugh at you, and call you stupid.

"I focus so hard during conversations, trying to keep up, that it makes me stressed and anxious, and still it is not good enough. My classmates in elementary and high school would say, 'You stupid girl. You misunderstood me again'.

"When I responded, you said 'XXXX'. They would smile and say, 'Yes, but didn't you notice my facial expression, my body language, or the tone of my voice?' Or 'Hey, I winked.'

"Why cannot people just say what they mean?" she said. She sounded frustrated.

"Yeah," Marcus said, commiserating with her. "For some reason, we feel the need to augment our words."

"Another thing that annoys me," Scarlett said, "is people are always asking me 'How are you?' I have learned that your doctor, mother, or friends want the truth. Other people do not.