Root of All Evil

There was some explaining to do. Jake was in no condition to explain anything; I knew that, but I don't think dad knew that. Dad leaned with his back against the door, his mouth tight and wrinkled as he scanned the two of us on the bed. He didn't know where to start, what to ask or what to say. He huffed as he seemed to think about either building into a scream or to be cool and handle the embarrassing situation for all concerned in a mature, lowkey and reasonable manner. I heard a wail and a loud thump as Rachel threw her weight into her bedroom door guarded by mom.

Dad threw his arms on his hips, "Jake?" I wasn't sure if it was a question or a demand or what it was. I don't think dad knew what it was supposed to be either. But it was a start for a man talking to his employee, a family friend, a soon-to-be enlisted man in the United States military and probably the most salient aspect -- the kid caught fucking his virgin daughter while her sister (and his girlfriend) were thought to be out of town.

Jake knew my dad expected something like an explanation out of him at this moment. Jake had no clue what to say in response, even if he could talk while reeling under the influence. Jake dropped his head to his knees and rocked a little, managing to say, "Oooh. Oh god."

"Leah, is he drunk?" I nodded.

"Leah, are you drunk?" I shook my head. This was shaping up to be a very painful game of twenty questions.

"Son! Look at me." Dad spoke sharply to Jake and Jake lifted his head to meet dad eye to eye. "Son. I don't know all of what happened here -- I don't really care to know. I don't know what's been going on between you and my two daughters. Son, do you understand what I'm saying to you?"

"Yes sir." Jake was looking scared and sober as he looked at dad leaning his back into the door. "Yes sir. I'm sorry."

I couldn't let my beloved twist under dad's glare, especially since he wasn't responsible, nor did he know what he had done. I jumped in to offer an explanation, "Daddy, it's my fault, I..."

Dad held up his hand to stop me. "I'm talking man to man with Jake here. But this involves you too Leah, so you can listen, but let me finish this business with Jake. I'll have your mother deal with you for the woman to woman talk a little later." Dad sighed, "Damn it you two. This is a big mess."

"Son, I thought you had a good head for business, but this business is not good. It appears you've got more creditors than assets to satisfy them both. You're in a hell of a pickle Jake. Do you hear that racket up above us?"

"Yes sir. I am real sorry." Jake sounded sincere. I could tell by the look in his eyes he was still struggling to figure out what he'd done and how he'd ended up naked in bed with me. I loved him and wanted to make it up to him and show him I would be true and give him the love he needed.

Dad shook his head after hearing Jake's apology. "Son, I'll bet you are. But I'll bet you don't know the half of it right now in your state."

"Yes sir. It won't happen again." Jake nodded his head in solemn assurance.

"I doubt that that's true Jake. I really doubt that." Dad shook his head side to side and suppressed a grin. He then dropped back into a serious tone as he addressed Jake with another question.

"Son?" Dad stepped toward us, stopping at the edge of the bed, folding his arms across his chest. "Son, you've got what, another month before your time is up at the store?"

Jake looked up to dad standing over us, "Yes sir. I have twenty-seven days. At least I did up until tonight. I'll resign right now. You won't have to fire me, unless you want the satisfaction. I'm sorry about this sir."

"Not so fast. Jake, I'll keep you on, but I'm going to insist on a serious obligation and an honorable condition to make things right with my family, which you've managed to fuck up royally tonight."

"Yes sir. I owe it to you and your family to honor you." What could Jake say? As quick minded and silver tongued as he usually was, he was in no position to do anything but what dad insisted. I listened with my heart in my throat, knowing that under the circumstance, this could be a huge request.

Dad looked grim. "Jake? You know that sign in red letters I have above the counter? The one where I spell out my store policy?"

Jake nodded, "The one that says, 'You Break It. You Buy It?'"

"That's the one son. That's my store policy and that's my home policy." Dad took a deep breath, "If Leah is pregnant, you marry her. That's the most honorable deal; I'm going to insist on it. Understand son?"

Jake took the deal offered without blanching. He was too good to let his thoughts or plans show, even under duress. "Yes sir, I understand your policy and that it's your honor that's involved."

Since Jake didn't argue or even let on that this was an unwanted proposition, I took it to heart to mean that he secretly wanted me to be his wife.

"Jake, you'll be in the military in a couple of months. As an enlisted airman, you'll get good health benefits, courtesy of the American taxpayer. Your veteran's benefits will be able to take care of your wife and family, better than I might be able to. Jake, it's your baby -- if Leah's pregnant. I know you; I know you'll do the right and honorable thing."

I was stunned. What I'd just heard being negotiated man-to-man was possibly my whole future. I was being bartered like the stock in the family store. I was ripped into a different universe as I tried to get a grip on what had just been agreed to between my dad and Jake, my first lover. The bargain they had just struck could possibly make me Jake's wife very soon. Everything for me had changed in the exchange of a few words.

My shock and confusion of being bartered for, in the name of family honor, didn't last long. I warmed to the idea of being Jake's wife. Hot blood coursed through my veins; my ears burned, and I was sure my skin had ripened into a flush red under the thin sheet covering my naked body. The idea of being bartered as a blushing bride excited me. I would be the most devoted and loving wife to Jake. I had to make plans for the two of us, and maybe the baby. I was the happiest I'd ever been.

Dad said, "All right. Leah I'm going back upstairs to talk with your mother. You need to be there too, after you get decent."

I protested, "I'm in the middle of doing Jake's laundry for him."

"I'm sure the young man can finish his own laundry. He's going to have to get used to a lot of responsibility real soon Leah. I expect you dressed and upstairs. We need to talk. All of us." He turned and walked out of the room, closing the door behind him.

As soon as I heard dad's footsteps going upstairs, I dropped the sheet from my shoulders so I could display my tits to Jake, whom I considered my fiancé. I gave a hot, passionate kiss to my man as he sat wedged into the corner. "Jake, you were so wonderful to me. Don't worry, I love you and I promise I will be the best, most loving wife a man could ever want. Jake you deserve the best and I will give you anything you want. That's what is going to make you and me so completely happy."

Jake pulled his knees up to his chest and tipped his head onto his legs. "All right Leah, whatever you say. I'm sorry I got you into this... I wasn't... Leah, I don't know what just happened. Hell, I don't know what's going on."

I petted his down-dropped head. "Sorry honey, I got to get upstairs to see what's in store for us. I guess I'll get what I deserve. Don't worry honey, I am going to like what I'm getting." I'd just called Jake 'honey' - twice, and it felt so good and right. "Don't worry about your clothes either, I'll throw them in the dryer before I go up. When you hear the timer go off, they'll be ready to wear."

Jake turned his head sideways, "Yeah, Leah. Yeah could you turn off the light on the way out? My head is splitting open something fierce." I hopped back to plant a kiss on top of his head to make my baby feel better. I then did as he'd asked, leaving him in the dark. Poor boy, he was in the dark in more ways than one.

I found my glasses on the hallway floor, where Rachel had kicked them when she was knocking over furniture on her forced way to her room. I dressed and met dad and a tearful mom seated at the kitchen table. Dad told mom that Jake had promised to marry me if I was pregnant. Rachel was eavesdropping and burst into a pitiful wail from the other room and flew out the front door screaming into the night. Mom collapsed into loud sobs and dad looked hurt, confused and confounded. I was happy in the middle of the chaos. I was glad that Rachel was feeling some heartbreak.

***

I think I was a little late with my period. I told mom I was late. Mom told dad. Rachel heard the news and was seething, but at least she'd stopped throwing furniture and wailing around the neighborhood.

I was excited to let Jake and his mom hear the news. Jake and his mom were invited over to our house for dinner to discuss and help plan the upcoming wedding. My wedding came together on short notice, since the groom had an obligation to ship off for basic training a few days after the ceremony. It was agreed that since I would soon be a military dependent, that my prenatal care and all ob-gyn matters would be taken care of by the US Air Force.

A few days after the planning dinner between our families, I got my period. I didn't tell anyone since so many big plans had already been put in place. I would end up heartbroken if my big day and my happy future was stolen from me.

The ceremony was short, small and sweet. Dad offered to pay for a honeymoon at a small resort near the base where Jake had to report and he paid for a tiny apartment for me to stay in while Jake went through his training. Mom thought I should stay home until my husband was stationed at his base. I said I wanted to be close to my new husband and be there for him. I didn't want anyone to see that my baby bump would not be developing.

After about a month or two, I told Jake and everyone that I'd lost the baby.

In our early marriage, Jake was never mean to me. In some ways I wish that his indifference would have taken the form of anger or even violence; I think I would have been able to handle a man who was hot and then cold. But his even-keel, never hot, never cold attitude while ignoring me was extremely hard to take. It felt crueler than being physically beaten. Jake often had some extra duty assigned to him by his commander and he would not come home for a long time. The rare times when he was home, he seemed preoccupied and gave very little attention to me. My husband, whom I adored, didn't have any time for me and my loneliness grew to take an emotional toll on my spirit.

Jake got his orders and was posted to Aviano Air Force Base in Italy. I researched and read everything I could about Italy. When we arrived at Aviano, I was ready for our newlywed adventure with Jake and excited to delve into Italian culture, especially Italian cooking. I discovered that most military wives enjoyed socializing only with other American wives and drinking. I was not going to spend my time lounging by the pool or getting tipsy in the club, I was going to immerse myself in the surrounding culture.

I hoped that if I served my husband delicious Italian cooking with fresh ingredients, he'd see the love I poured into my cooking and caring for him. I was going to be a great cook and a great wife for Jake. I started making trips to the open market. I loved the idea of the fresh Italian herbs blended into the local dishes using ingredients perfected over two thousand years.

I found that I had a talent for picking up the Italian language in my daily stroll through the market, admiring the fragrant herbs and getting to know the vendors. I became a familiar curiosity among the bustling market stalls, 'Guarda, e la ragazza Americana', I'd hear them say as I passed; "Look, it's the American girl." I grew more comfortable speaking with the vendors and asking questions of the old women at the market. I practiced my Italian by asking for tips on cooking, the culinary questions of a young wife drew a crowd of opinionated women - each loudly dismissing the others' advice while offering me 'the secret' to make my meals special.

As my language skills developed fast, so did my admiration for the food and importance of family, both highly treasured in Italian culture. Among the market women, food and family were inseparable in their language and in their way of thinking. I explained that I wished to master making good food to please my husband, this was understood without saying by all the women in whom I'd begun to confide. The subject of my husband and our love life were natural questions stirred into the subject of food. Cooking, food, love, sex and family, they were all part of the same thing, like the ingredients simmering in a pot of sauce.

I wept as my emotions bubbled to the surface when I told the ladies that I felt abandoned and rejected by my husband. I just wanted to be loved. I wanted to find a way to please him and make him open up to me and share my love. The women took me as their 'triste sposa Americana', I was the sad American bride. My marriage and my love life became a common topic among the local women and the subject of many freely offered suggestions when I was visiting the market. The advice given to me covered the kitchen and the bedroom or the bedroom and the kitchen. A problem in one was a problem in the other. Fix one and the other will fall in line. I was hungry for the old-world feminine wisdom on how to be a good wife, in the kitchen and in the bed. I was hungry to be accepted by someone. I found acceptance like a little chick being gathered in under the protective wing of my many mother hens.

Every woman had a secret for me, 'garantito per funzionare. Lo giuro'. "Guaranteed to work. I swear it," they'd whisper to me, handing me the secret aphrodisiac and patting me sympathetically. I wanted to believe in their garden magic, natural remedies from mother earth. In turn they wanted to hear the results, the juicy details of kitchen concoctions and cock seductions and all of the sexual secrets. The women were invested in their 'sad little American bride'. They wanted me happy, they wanted me pregnant and to have lots of babies.

"Ciao Leah. Did you make love last night?" they asked. "Did you prepare everything right, just the way I told you?"

I answered, "Yes. Thank you for the black truffles. I prepared them as I was told."

"It is important that you soaked the truffle in your sex juice. Did you stimulate your vagina with the black truffles inside you?"

"Yes, it was one of the most enjoyable dishes I've yet prepared." My answer got a scandalous twitter to rise from the women gathered around me. "I imagined the first time I made love with Jake. It got me excited remembering him growing stiff and opening me with his penis as he pushed far up inside me. My thoughts of Jake got me excited and I rubbed myself while I held the black truffle between my pussy lips while dreaming of the mad love that the two of us would be making that night after the meal."

The ladies listening in chortled at the secret preparation. I was told, "Good girl, you did that well. When your feminine scent mates with the black truffle's musky scent, it makes men feel like they're possessed by a wild boar of the forest. The truffle will make men more loveable and women more tender."

"So what happened in bed Leah?" The small crowd of love coaches wanted to know how my love food worked. "Did your husband become a wild boar and root inside of you with his tusk, digging and tickling you with his hard horn, looking for hidden and delicate things?"

I blushed. "Jake got home later than he said. I had his special supper ready; I had my secret black truffles prepared to go into the dish. I had told Jake, 'I'm going to make you an extra special meal, so hurry on home for your surprise.' But my husband didn't arrive when I expected him. I used a generous amount of the 'love herb', basil and also added a touch of anise for Jake's youth and manly vigor." The ladies all nodded and commented with approval on my choices of aphrodisiacs which I'd included in my cooking."

"I waited for a long time. When my husband finally came home, I served him his meal. I wore a new bra that lifted my breasts and I made sure that my bosom was hanging out of my dress for a pleasant view while he dined. I asked him, 'How did you like your special supper my love?'"

"He answered, 'It was nice.' That's all he said. The passive indifference in his words, after all that I had done for him, was like a hot knife in my heart."

I could feel my lady friends' hearts ache in sympathy with me. "After Jake had finished his meal, I kissed him sweetly on the neck and said, 'Hey honey, I've got something to show you. I think you'll like it.' I nuzzled my boobs into his face and took him by the hand to lead him into the bedroom. I made him sit on the bed. I took off his shoes and socks and sucked his toes in a slow and seductive way while I knelt in front of him. He laughed as I tickled his feet with my tongue. I rolled my hands up his pant legs, making sure he got an eyeful of my cleavage as I came to his zipper."

"I lifted his manhood out of his trousers and showered it with loving strokes and small kisses. My husband seemed to be enjoying my attention and I was willing to forgive his unappreciative remarks about the special supper I'd made for him."

"I loved all over him, licking the underside of his shaft with long, slow laps of my tongue. Just like you've told me works best for a man. I opened my lips and took him in deep. I let my tongue roll all around his hard hilt. I was eating him up, making him feel slippery and soft like the skin of a truffle. I thought my man had been transformed by the magic of the black truffles I'd fed him." My audience of experienced wives smiled as if my description rekindled fresh life into old, dry memories lying dormant in their gray heads. "I stroked him slow and sensuous as I sucked the tip of his cock. He let me play with him for a long time, and I knew he was pleased with me by the rigid response in my mouth and curled fingers."

The small group of my intimate advisors nodded and smiled, approving of my bedroom skills, skills they had each taken time to describe to me, the young wife, in earlier conversations. I was feeling surprisingly at ease as I recounted the lurid description of my intimate moments with my husband. My mentors were wanting to hear it all and offer helpful suggestions to the sad American bride. I wanted them to know that I had taken their intimate advice and was using all of the wifey bedroom tricks they had given me. For their part, they were pleased to hear the details of how their secrets for kitchen and marriage bed worked on a young man. They leaned in close, urging me on, afraid I was going to stop telling my story before I got to the sexy part. They wanted a big, happy finish for me. They thought they should be involved in the climax since they felt responsible for the exciting foreplay. We women were all in it together, we were sisters.

Needing the approval of my big sisters, I continued my salacious story. "My husband had gotten very stiff with my playing in his pants. I was excited for our night and excited to try out the boudoir moves everyone told me to try. I rolled his trousers and underpants off and tossed them across the room, taunting Jake like I was a naughty girl, ready and willing to make a wild mess of things." My teachers of seduction wiggled in delight as I described my sexy moves.

"I was already moist and slick, I got hot looking at Jake's erection as I rose to my feet, telling my lover, 'I've got some shiny little flimsy nothings to show you. It's a surprise just for your eyes.' I turned my back to Jake as he watched me, I undid one button on the back of my dress at a time while I took peek-a-boo glances over my shoulder to keep him engaged in my intimate show. I let my dress fall from my shoulders as I pretended I was trying to keep it up, but that I'd exposed my skin accidently as it fell to my ankles. I bent over as if I was going to retrieve my clothing, making sure that I wiggled my ass in front of his lusting eyes. It was a good show, just like I'd practiced all week in front of the mirror. I loved playing my little game of 'are you staring at me? Oh you are such a bad boy!'"