The Perverted Poet Society

"Jack be nimble, Jack be quick, Jack jumped over the candlestick.

My oh my he should have jumped higher, good God Almighty, great balls of fire.

They were still giggling when I launched into the next one.

"Old Mother Hubbard went to the cupboard to fetch her poor dog a bone

When she bent over Rover took over and gave her one of his own."

I rolled into another one.

Little Jack Horner was off in a corner, eating Miss Christmas Pie.

He stuck in a thumb that caused her to come and thought I'm a lucky guy."

There were screams of laughter as I left the stage and Jill was grinning. Amanda was looking at me like I had two heads. "I read my nieces those rhymes. It's gonna be a while before I can keep a straight face when I do."

This led us into a discussion about nursery rhymes and fairy tales, and how they were often about serious things disguised as a chlid's rhyme. Four and Twenty Blackbirds was about pirates and hangings, Little Jack Horner was based on greed and betrayal at a royal level. Jill, it seems, knew none of that and listened to us spellbound. We were saddened when closing time came around.

She hugged us both when she got back to her hotel, and we walked her to her room. I didn't know it, but she had a very popular blog and a million or better Twitter followers, and when she mentioned her friends, poet Jill Parker and her husband Jack showing her a good time while she was in our town, we were floored. When she suggested people come the club to hear us, especially my 'Naughty Nursery Rhymes," the place was packed for a month.

We did one week before deciding to let it blow over, and stayed away from the place.

Jill and I were an "item" by then. We'd go on about two dates a week. She asked to see my place a few weeks later and I brought her home, grinning as she explored the two-bedroom cottage, touching what she thought were antiques and gushing over the stained-glass accents on the windows. Her eyes widened when she saw my bedroom, the massive four poster bed my father had built for me almost overwhelming the room.

Without warning she got a running start and belly flopped onto it, bouncing instead of sinking into the double thick mattress with pillow toppers and giggling like mad. "I love it!"

"So do I. And it's firmer than it looks and feels. If you were beside me, despite the difference in our height and weight, it wouldn't pull you in. I'd have to use my arms for that."

Her eyes grew huge and I thought I'd made a mistake until she grinned. "I don't believe that. You'll have to prove it to me. Come here."

She patted the bed and I kicked my shoes off, beside her in an instant. We lay facing each other for a second before I pulled her gently to me. She snuggled instantly, kissing my neck as I stroked her hair and back.

She moved up until she was over me. "I hope we get to the point that I spend a lot of time on this bed, without clothes and snuggled to you as we drift off to sleep after a bout of love making. It won't be tonight, but I really want to cuddle. I trust you, Honey, but I'm getting over a really, really bad relationship and I'm a little nervous. Can you do that for me?"

For answer I pulled up a playlist on my phone: soft songs, some in languages I couldn't understand but really loved. It was my sleep program. I synched it to the speakers in the house and it seemed to waft over us from everywhere. I dimmed the lights until you could barely see and laid back down.

She was in my arms instantly. We shared our most intimate kisses in our relationship, our tongues exploring and remembering. By this time, she was on top of me and lay her head on my chest. I ran my fingers through her hair gently, and a few minutes later I heard her breathing change and knew she was asleep. I tried to wake her but she snuggled tighter.

I let her sleep for a little while and eased out from under her, gently pulling the covers back. Jill was wearing a lightweight summer dress and it had ridden up, showing a pair of lavender bikini panties that just barely covered an outstanding bottom. I tried and failed miserably not to look as I slipped her sandals off, then covered her gently. Easing into my side, she was against me in a second, snuggling until every inch that could be was melded to me. I went to sleep feeling her breath on my cheek.

*****

I woke to see sunshine streaming in. She was still against me, but sometime during the night her dress had bunched up and I had my hand on a very nice feeling rump. I tried to pull back and she giggled, letting me know she was awake. "That hand is just fine where it is. I think it spent the night there, and my butt liked it."

She was pressed against me hard enough to feel my erection, and I was afraid to move as she ground against me. She slid up on my chest and we spent a few moments kissing. She pulled back when my hand started wandering.

"None of that, Mister. I want breakfast. You can start it while I shower. Do you have an extra toothbrush?"

"There's a four-pack under the sink. They were on sale. What would you like?"

"First I'd like a shirt to wear after the shower while the wrinkles in my dress relax. After that, whatever you have is fine."

She grabbed a company tee out of a drawer and dashed into the bathroom. I got up and used the half bath, splashing my face and wishing I could get to my toothbrush. Going into the kitchen I got out my waffle maker and started my batter, getting eggs ready to scramble, and starting the sausage on low.

I could hear her singing as she showered and it sounded very domestic, which gave me a good feeling. The eggs were scrambled, the sausage almost done and I was pouring the first set of waffles into the maker when she came into the kitchen. My shirt never looked that good on me. It hung to just above her knees and I could make out the hard little points of her nipples. I tried not to look.

She grinned and gave me a kiss on the cheek before plopping down at the table. "Coffee. Now." Then she giggled.

"You pamper me this time and I'll do you next. I make excellent crepes. Now feed me."

I watched as she destroyed three waffles and a plate of eggs. She told me she didn't eat a lot of meat, and just nibbled on one piece of sausage. After she was stuffed, she talked about how good the eggs were.

"Free-range chickens. I get them at the Farmer's Market, as well as most of my food. I'm a local businessman and I'm a firm believer in shopping local. Besides, it almost just as cheap and I know where my food comes from. I was gonna go today but..."

"Ooh! I'd love to go! Hurry, take me home so I can change!"

We left the dishes, something that irritated me normally, but I'd take her smile over a clean plate anytime. She yelled for me to wait as she dove out of the car once we go to her apartment, impressing me with her speed as she came back out, wearing tight little shorts and a cute top. Her hair was held back by a scrunchie (I know because she told me) and the curls were going everywhere.

*****

The Market was in full swing by the time we got there. I think she talked to every vendor there, putting vegetables into the basket I carried, promising me a home-cooked meal. I grinned when she met Vickie, the woman who sold me eggs. She was a throwback to another generation when the term 'free spirit' was in vogue. She had on a vintage dress that flattered her figure and a matching scarf, holding her almost waist-length red hair back.

She was in her forties, but you had to look close to tell. I'd met her before I knew about the market, helping a friend of mine build her an "arts and crafts" chicken house. It was some of my best work, including gables with gingerbread trim.

It cost far more than any return on eggs she'd get, but her husband was very rich and he indulged her hobby. He had another hobby, watching his wife being serviced by younger men, two and three at a time, if possible.

When they offered, I abstained, which disappointed her greatly, and she vowed to seduce me eventually. She tried hard and it was very tempting, but there are just some lines I would not cross. Finally, she decided to be my friend and champion, touting me to her rich friends. I'd gotten several very lucrative jobs because of it.

As a thank you, I got my friend to help me precut everything and while she was at the market, we put up a custom shed to hold her gardening tools. It looked just like an old-time outhouse, right down to the crescent moon on the door. I read about it somewhere and looked them up. Her husband grinned and let her discover it on her own, filming it. She let out a scream and then examined it in detail, insisting he film her sitting on the fake seat, which was in reality a chest for her smaller tools.

They posted it on her vlog and it was one of her highest rated ones. People even started sending her videos of their own versions, and some were quite creative.

Vickie looked at Jill, then me, and sighed. "Damn, there went any chance I was ever gonna have. Who's your honey, Honey?"

I introduced them and they seemed in no hurry, so I wandered over to a table that held birdhouses: very elaborate, intricate birdhouses. I admired the workmanship and detail when the little girl behind the table started talking. "Hi, Mister! Wanna buy a bird house? Daddy makes them and we sell them for, for what again, Daddy?"

A guy who looked a little old to be having a daughter that young finished with the customer and grinned at her. "Ari, Honey, it's for the Hillary House, remember?"

He reached out and I shook his hand. "Dave Waxman. This little bundle of energy is my daughter, Ari. We come here once a month, which is about as long as it takes me to build enough to sell, and the money goes to a shelter for women and children in bad situations."

"That's admirable. These are excellent. Your eye for detail is quite good."

"You work with wood?"

I gave him my card. He took it and smiled. "I've heard of you. I own an old house myself, and it's a constant struggle to keep it up and looking original. Right now, I need to replace some gingerbread but can't find anything in that particular pattern."

He showed me a picture. "You'll have a hard time finding that. If you do, it'll be original and cost you a fortune. Your best bet would to find someone like me to build the replacements."

"Could you do it?"

"Not right now. I'm buried for at least the next five months. If you can wait until it turns cold, things calm down and I could do it then. Give me your email, and I'll send you links to other guys I know who can handle this sort of thing. Any one of them would do a good job for you or I wouldn't recommend them."

Jill had come over by then and the little girl had her in a serious discussion as she showed her the birdhouses. She looked over at me and smiled. "Ari says this one would be perfect for our backyard, maybe by the fence. It kind of looks like our house. What do you think?"

"I think Ari is a pretty smart girl, as well as being a good salesperson. We'll take it and put it up after lunch, unless you'd rather have another?"

I was still trying to come to the implications of her saying 'our house' as I paid. Mr. Waxman grinned. He glanced at Ari as she helped Jill box the birdhouse, leaning in a little closer.

"Thanks for buying that one. It's been overlooked twice because of the price. I have a personal stake in this. Ari and her big sister aren't mine by birth. They were both in a situation like the one Hillary House deals with. God gave me two beautiful daughters, so I do what I can to help someone else find theirs. It literally saved my marriage."

I thought that was a story worth listening to sometime. He held up the card. "I can wait. I'll give you a call in October."

We put the birdhouse and the vegetables in the back seat. Jill was a little quiet on the way back to the house. I made her walk around with me until she declared a spot perfect for the birdhouse. By then, she was smiling and went in to make the lunch she promised me while I got out the tools necessary to install the house.

I was under strict orders not to do it by myself, so I went in, washed up, and asked what I could do to help. Apparently, a man offering to help was outside of her experience but soon she had me wrapping corn to put into the oven. We'd stopped at a market, a real butcher's market, not a chain store, and I thought I was going to have to drag her out. She and the butcher would still be talking if I had stood still. She chose four really nice pork chops, two chicken breasts and deboned thighs, and a pack of homemade pork sausage.

While I was outside, she had rubbed the chops, and we grilled them on the patio while she brought out the sides. It seemed she was as good around a kitchen as she was around words. We ate too much and ended up asleep on the couch for an hour when the heat drove us in.

I woke up on the couch and she was on top of me. Maybe this could become a habit. I eased her off gently, and she popped one eye open. "I was perfectly fine where I was."

"Yes, you were, but the tea is telling me it needs to be recycled. I'll be right back."

She was up by the time I got back, taking her turn with the bathroom, giving me a kiss and a grin when she got back. "Let's go put up the birdhouse."

Jill discovered my anal-retentive side, especially where wood was concerned. I wouldn't let go until the house was exactly level. How did I know when it was level? Easy. I used my two-foot level, lining it up until all the bubbles were dead center. She didn't know whether to admire my attention to detail or find a therapist.

"I wish I could be here to see a family move in."

"It's pretty late in the nesting season, Honey. We may not get residents this year." She smiled slightly when I said 'honey' and 'we.'

In the end, I bought one of the next-gen trail cams, one that linked to your phone. I set it for her phone and two weeks later she nearly blew my eardrums out when she called. "We got bluebirds!"

"Well good for us. Coming over?"

"I'm already here. Dinner in an hour. You be on time, Buster. I mean it."

She had fixed me a meal and I got wrapped up with a fussy customer, trying to finish a project before I left. It put me two hours late coming home and she was PISSED! She also wasn't there, my food was in the trash can, and I didn't see her until poetry night. I took her hand and calmy apologized, saying it was thoughtles of me not to call. Then I made her tear up.

"It'll probably happen again, Honey. I promise I'll call from now on. So, no more storming off, okay? Besides it'll be kind of hard to storm off when you live there."

It caught me by surprise when it came out and I tried to backtrack. Jill let me stutter for a minute before stopping me with a kiss. "I heard what you said. You can't take it back and I think we need to discuss it at greater length soon. Now come on, I have a new poem I want you to hear."

The poem was about the power of love, especially at the beginning of a relationship. It was emotionally moving, as most of her stuff was, and she looked at no one but me as she recited it.

We had become intimate a week before. I'd like to describe it, but I couldn't do it justice. She was about as perfect as a young, 26-year-old woman could be. Soft in the right spots, firm where she should be, responsive, passive one second and demanding the next. She was self-conscious about her breasts, because she could really fill out a bra, but I thought they were perfect. Absolutely perfect. When she confessed her insecurities to me, I made her smile when I told her I was going to compose a poem in honor of her boobs. "Knowing you, it will be sick and disgusting. I can't wait to hear it."

I thought about that for a while. I'd said it in jest but now it was a challenge. I was working on it.

We went to my house after the readings, and she wanted to snuggle instead of play. She laid until I thought she was asleep, then she raised her head off my chest. "You really think we should live together?"

I wanted more than just living together, but instinct told me I should go slow. "You know I do. We need to get to know each other, see where the triggers and the hot spots are, then learn to deescalate and share. I won't beat around the bush, I'm interested in a permanent relationship, but willing to go at your pace. If it looks like it won't work, I'd rather we look each other in the eye and part with dignity and respect. I warn you now, I'll do everything in my power to make sure it never comes to that."

She lay back down for a few minutes before popping back up. "Saturday. We'll need your truck. The apartment is rented and I have to make sure to pay my share until my roommate can replace me. One load will suffice, maybe two."

Then she started kissing me, and I had a feeling the snuggle part of the evening was over.

*****

Two weeks after we moved her in her math teacher friend called and asked if I'd have coffee with her, at Starbucks rather than the club. She asked me not to tell Jill until after I had talked to her. I was a little uncomfortable about that, but she promised to call Jill from the coffe-shop as soon as the conversation was over, to let her know what she'd done and how reluctant I was to do it.

Cindy was sitting, fidgeting with her cup when I arrived. She let the silence stretch for a second before speaking. "Jill is going to kill me for telling you this, but you need to know it. She was engaged before you two met. They had been parted for about nine months when she started going out with you. She'd dated a couple of guys once or twice, maybe a month beore you met, but they went nowhere. You, you're different. You make her laugh, something we hadn't heard a lot of from her, and she smiles a lot more.

"The parting was not... amicable. In fact, it was intense and bitter, ending with him beating the hell out of her and trying to rape her. Fortunately, the screams were so loud the neighbors called the cops. He'd knocked her out, but she woke up and immediately started screaming again. He was punching her in the mouth when the cops broke down the door. He was arrested for domestic abuse, aggravated assault and given 48 hours in jail, standard for a case like that. Then he was charged and had to bond out, which took another two days. There was a shiny new restraining order waiting for him, and his lawyer told him whatever he did, do not violate it.

"He immediately violated it, first by calling her all times of the night and day, then stalking her. She got fed up, took the recordings she'd made, with short videos of him following her, and they arrested him again, raising his bail three times over the original. The man was from a wealthy family and his father tried to get her to drop the charges, indirectly offering her money and hinting how close he was to the head of the school board. She sent him away.

"The next week she got a call wanting her to appear before the school board, to answer claims against her. She showed up, played the recorded conversation before they could speak, and told them in harsh terms he was off limits, and if anything happened to her career, even if it couldn't be traced, she was getting a lawyer and playing the tape on the evening news. Then she walked out.

"He didn't go to jail, but was ordered into anger management and counseling, and he had to pay her medical bills and her counseling. He also had to pay her fifteen thousand dollars, or rather Daddy did. She has two dental implants and that's where the tiny scar on her bottom lip came from.

"Jill thought it was over until he came out from behind a car in the parking lot of the club after poetry night. I can still hear her screams. He was drunk and drugged up or he would have never done anything so stupid. Bad for him. Mr. Marks, you know, the old guy with the oriental wife? He owns a dojo and is one of three people in the U.S. to hold the advanced degree he has. That 68-year-old man kicked his ass. He was out when the police arrived and Mr. Marks was gone. He never saw who kicked his ass and everyone in the parking lot seemed to be suffering from memory loss when they were interviewed.