Too Clever by a Mile Ch. 08

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Cathy and Steve face many new problems.
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Part 8 of the 9 part series

Updated 10/14/2022
Created 04/06/2012
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carvohi
carvohi
2,548 Followers

Theresa had been skyping back and forth with Cathy for several days. All she heard was Cathy and Steve, Steve and Cathy, Cathy, Cathy, Cathy, Steve, Steve, Steve; they just didn't get it.

Theresa knew the truth. Cathy knew nothing. Steve knew nothing. If they knew they wouldn't feel the way they did. No, it would be entirely different.

Theresa remembered, she remembered everything. Steve wasn't this great guy Cathy talked about. He was a cad, a bounder, the worst kind of creep. She knew. She knew the truth.

When Leah had been alive Steve had been the wiliest Tom Cat in six states, a real night owl, a sexual prowler. Leah found out, she'd learned what a creep Steve was. That's when she turned to her, to Theresa. Theresa had been there for her; she'd always been there. Cathy had asked her if she had a significant other. Well she did, and she had; in fact she put flowers on her grave every week. No one else did. Steve never did. He was too weak.

When Leah found out about Steve's wanderings she'd fallen into Theresa's to arms. They made love. Leah became her paramour. She and Leah; it was idyllic. Leah was on the verge of telling the bastard she was going to leave him. She was going to leave him for her. Imagine, Steve's wife dropping him for a lesbian. If Leah hadn't gotten sick it would have happened too! It would have been Leah and Theresa, not Leah and Steve.

But Leah did get sick, and Steve fell into a funk. He collapsed in his own effluvium. Call it guilt, remorse, regret, whatever, Steve's sadness knew no limit, but it wasn't a normal kind of gloom. Steve had felt trapped, snared. His happy go lucky life style had been overturned. He was suddenly swamped with new concerns, new problems, and for the first time he was inundated with real responsibility.

His problems would have broken him if it hadn't been for her. When he was down, while Leah lay dying, and then afterward, it had been Theresa, good old Theresa who'd come to the rescue. Theresa had saved Leah, and then she'd saved Steve.

But Leah had told her everything. She told her about the lonely nights, the discovered infidelities, the anger, then Leah had told her about Allen, yes Allen. Good old Glynnis never knew, and still didn't know about her wonderful loving devoted one and only. He hadn't been that wonderful loving one and only after all.

Theresa wondered how it would all pan out if little Stevie, cutie pie Cathy, and Ms. Perfect Glynnis, and of course that stalwart of fidelity Allen all got the news. What if they all got the news at the same time? What if they did? Well they had it coming! Theresa wasn't sure what to do. In her way she loved Steve. She liked Cathy too. Glynnis was an old friend. They all mattered. They just didn't understand. How would they? It was like there was this circle. Whenever someone drew it they were on the inside, and she was on the outside. Theresa didn't know what to do; she just didn't know what to do.

++++++++++++

Cathy wasn't the best when it came to reading other peoples thoughts, but she hadn't grown up in a compete vacuum. Her father had been one mean son of a bitch. She hated him. Still, she guessed he had his reasons, not that it excused him.

Cathy was a firm believer in retributive justice; a person does wrong, they confess, we forgive, but they still get punished. In fact, if they confessed, and are really penitent, they should want to be punished.

Steve was still carrying around a lot of guilt and anger. After talking to Theresa she bet she had some skeletons in her closet too. Then there was Leah, but she wasn't saying anything. Then again, maybe she was. Steve, she knew, was capable of hurting people, but she was convinced it didn't happen without provocation. He beat her poor rear end mercilessly, but she'd figured it out, that hadn't been her ass he was walloping, it had probably been Leah's, and not just for dying.

She knew a few things. She had Steve's number. She could and certainly would make him a happy man. But then what about Theresa? There was no reason for her to do anything for Theresa. That woman had done things to her that had been unnecessarily mean, maybe a little bit anyway.

She had every justification for getting even, hospice notwithstanding. Did she want to hurt Theresa? Did she want to get even? She would have once, but no not anymore.

Cathy made up her mind; Theresa was going to be become her best friend. Sure Theresa liked the girls, and she didn't go that way, but so what, friends were friends no matter. Yeah, Theresa would look good dressed up as a Fairy God Mother, or a cow girl. After she got finished with Steve, after she had him had him all married and tucked away, then she'd get Theresa on board. Whatever pain and unhappiness they were carrying, she figured there was enough love to go around to fix just about anything. She knew that because every day she saw those little kids; she saw what love could do.

Cathy looked in the mirror. Steve would be home soon. The person she saw in the mirror wasn't the same one who'd shown up some time back. That artificially sexy woman was long gone. Staring back at her now was the original plain Jane, the first Wallflower; dark brown hair put up in pig tails, no make-up, mousy brown eyes, and itty bitty boobies. She had no idea what Steve saw in her, but she was sure glad he did.

She got dressed. She got into her little uniform; a simple camisole, white blouse, cotton panties, tan pleated miniskirt, white knee highs, and brown and white saddle shoes. This wasn't one of her school girl uniforms. She'd stopped doing that a while ago; this was just what he liked, and what he liked he got. He'd get home, they'd eat dinner, she'd help clean up, and then they'd talk about their days. She'd talk about her visit with the kids, phone calls she might have made, and anything else she thought was important. Steve would comment a little bit about his day, new kids on the way, and money for the hospice.

Then there was one other thing; Theresa wanted to take everyone out to eat. She was sure he'd agree.

Steve got home and Cathy was waiting in the foyer, "Steve we got a call from Theresa. She wants to take everyone out to dinner."

"Really what's the special occasion?"

"I don't know, she just said it was something she wanted to do."

He answered, "OK. Can we talk about it later? I've got something else on my mind right now."

++++++++++++

Steve got this wild hair up his ass. He needed to do something with Cathy he'd thought about for a long time. He'd been reading up on tattoos, women being branded, and such. He found out a lot of times those tattoos women wore meant something.

Once he was out getting some doughnuts and this woman was in line ahead of him. She had on one of those little bra dresses; the kind with the strapped shoulders and low cut at the chest so everyone got a got glimpse of her cleavage. She was a nice looking woman, but she had these tattoos. Later he found out the bar code she'd had tattooed on the back of her neck was probably her pimp's name and phone number. She had what looked like Norse or Germanic runes on the back of her hands and on her chest right under her head across the clavicles. He read where the runes probably told people she was a prostitute.

Steve wondered what it would be like if he had a woman with tattoos like that. He made up his mind to find out.

Cathy got back from the hospice a little late one afternoon. Steve was waiting for her in the sitting room. He called out, "Hey Cathy. Get cleaned up and put on a dress I got you. It's upstairs, then come down here."

She wondered what Steve had in mind. She'd had a really good day. All the kids were doing well, and she felt kind of perky. Maybe he had something special in mind. She ran upstairs and into their bedroom. She saw lying on the bed a yellow bra dress and matching yellow cotton panties. She slipped out of her Snow White' costume and tried on the bra dress. It was too short, too tight, and too small even for her tiny breasts. She put it on anyway. She slipped on the panties, a pair of tennis shoes and skipped down the stairs.

When she got to the sitting room Steve was there, waiting. He gave her a stupid grin and said, "Come on over here and sit down."

She bounced over knowing whatever it was it was probably really dumb, "OK, here I am."

He gave her an evil grin that didn't quite meet evil's muster, "Bend over my knee and pull down your little yellow panties."

This was news, "Steve I thought we weren't into spankings anymore."

"We're not my little muffin. I've got something better."

Little Muffin? Something better? "OK, what have you got?"

He smiled again. He still couldn't look mean, "You're my woman aren't you?"

"This is silly, yes, I'm your woman."

"Can you prove it?"

"I love you that ought to be proof enough."

"I mean what if you're out and somebody asked, who's your man, what could you show him to prove that you were mine?"

She got cute, "A marriage license?"

"No not that. I mean what could you show, like a brand or a tattoo."

Gee, she thought, he really is off the wall today, "I have my locket."

"No I mean what have you got. I mean what have you got that's actually on you?"

This was getting boring, "What's on your mind Steve?"

"Your ass is on my mind."

"My what?"

"Your ass, I want to brand you on your ass."

"Steve."

He smiled again.

Now she thought that supercilious grin was starting to take on an evil glint.

"I have in this box," he pointed to a small box sitting beside him on the sofa, "a red hot branding iron ready to be used to mark you as my woman."

"You want to brand me?"

"Right on your little pink ass!"

She didn't believe it, "Show me the brand."

"Only of you agree to let me brand you."

"You show me a branding iron in that box, and I'll let you brand me on my ass."

He smiled, "Promise?"

She didn't for a minute think he actually had anything like that in the box, "I promise."

"You won't ruin everything if I show you?"

"No I won't ruin anything."

"When I open this box you'll see the branding iron and you'll know right away how excruciatingly painful it will be so you'll have to promise not to cry too much or try to run away."

She wondered what really was in the box, "OK

Steve I promise not to cry too much, and I won't run away."

"OK, you asked for it." he slowly and deliberately opened the box and pulled out a small paint brush, a tube of high gloss permanent blank ink, and a small piece of plastic. The plastic was apparently where he'd squeeze out the paint.

She wanted to laugh out loud, but choked it back. She gave him her best Joan of Orleans I'm ready to be burned at the stake look. She sniffed as if she were about to cry, "If being branded by you with that red hot iron is the only way I can prove my love for you, then go ahead, do your worst."

He grinned sheepishly, "Lay across my knee little filly."

Cathy obediently lay across his knee. She whimpered, "Please be gentle. My skin is soft and unused to such treatment."

He patted her on her head, "I understand. I've had to do this many times to other young women. I know the fear and trepidation in your heart for it will most certainly change your life forever." He gently ran his hand down the back of her head and the nape of her neck, "Be courageous my pet for this is a magic brand. You won't feel any pain, but it will be permanent. You'll wear my mark on your rear for the rest of your life. So from this day forward whenever any man asks you who you belong to you can pull your panties down and show him my initials and my insignia."

She played along, "Yes mi 'lord."

Steve squeezed some ink on the plastic tablet, "Are you ready?"

She whimpered, "Yes mi' lord, please be kind. I'm so afraid."

He leaned forward and kissed the back of her neck, "There will be no physical pain my sweet little lamb, only the pain of knowing you will forever be known as the chattel of the great Mr. Steve Murphy." He took the paint brush and started to decorate her right ass cheek. He took his time. He went back and forth from the paint to her cheek several times, "Now I'm going to take my mouth and gently blow it dry. Try not to flinch."

She murmured innocently and sweetly, "No mi' lord. I mean yes mi' lord."

He took the next several minutes and blew the paint dry. As he blew on the wet paint he took his hand and wisped his fingertips up and down her spine giving her chills and shivers with each loving swipe. Once he figured it was completely dry he asked, "Little dove, would you like to see your new brand?"

She giggled, "Oh sir may I?"

Together they got off the sofa and walked over to a mirror that sat above a table. He held her dress up in case the paint wasn't completely dry. With her at a forty-five degree angle, and him facing the mirror they both looked at Steve's handiwork. There on her ass in dark black ink were the initials S. M. encircled by a heart.

Cathy kept up the pretense, "They're beautiful sir."

He smiled at her through the mirror, "I thought it would be fun."

She pressed against him. She put her hand on the inside of his thigh and felt his erection. She asked, "Steve don't you have three initials? Why didn't you put the initial of your middle name?"

She thought another second. She knew the initial of his middle name; she'd seen it on checks he'd written and on mail they'd received, but his actual name she didn't know, "I don't even know your middle name. What is it?"

He squeezed her a little closer. He kissed the top of head, "My middle name is Andrew. I didn't think it would be appropriate to brand you with S.A.M. It's too close to S&M."

She stood up on tip toes, just high enough to reach his mouth. With her arms on his shoulders she kissed him, "Mr. Murphy I find you absolutely incorrigible."

He asked with pretended incredulity, "Does that mean you won't go to bed with me?"

Cathy kicked off the panties that were dangling around her ankles. She jumped backwards up on the table, "No that means I have to have you right here, right now, this minute, right on the table!"

He unbuckled his belt and let his pants drop to the floor, "If you're the one wearing my initials on your ass, then why am I always the one taking orders?"

With one hand holding his head she kissed him repeatedly on his nose and mouth. She used her other hand to guide his penis in her vagina, "Because you love me."

He wrapped his arms around her, and they did it right there on the table. Afterward they snuggled on the sitting room sofa. She curled herself around and looked at the inked on initials, "They won't wash off will they?'

He kissed her neck, "They just have to wear off."

She kissed him back, "The ink might wear off, but never the ownership."

He kissed her again. A few minutes later they were bouncing on the sofa.

As they bumped and flailed about, he half opened his eyes. Hers were closed. Her hair was a tangled mess, eye make-up, what little of it there was, was smeared. He glimpsed her tiny nose, perfect eyebrows, adorable crescent ears. She was such an urchin, some would say she wasn't especially pretty, but she was oh so beautiful to him.

++++++++++++

Theresa had something in mind for Cathy. She saw the tenderness and affection Steve and Cathy exhibited toward one another; plus her devotion to the children was undeniable. Still, Theresa wanted something; she wanted that singular thing that would once and for all prove her sincerity. She talked and skyped back and forth with Cathy constantly. At last, she thought she'd found it. It was something so simple, so forthright that she kicked herself for a fool for not thinking of it sooner.

A new act had opened at one of the better night clubs in the central city. It involved a hypnotist's gimmick wherein he summoned selected subjects from the audience, placed them in a hypnotic state, and asked them silly questions. It was a dumb little show really. He got mostly women to come on stage where they performed childish tricks and outlandish stunts. It was a little embarrassing, but everybody seemed to have a good time.

Theresa paid the man a visit, and she made some suggestions that might improve his show. At first he declined, but with the appropriate pecuniary incentive she got him to accede. She also got him to agree to find a way to get her target guests on stage.

++++++++++++

Cathy talked to Steve, "Theresa has made reservations at the Brentwood for next Friday. She wants us and the Peregoy's to go with her. What do you think?"

Steve was reading a periodical magazine and wasn't paying much attention, "If you want to."

She saw he was in another world. Just as good she thought, "Good, I'll tell her it's a date."

Steve answered, "Mm hm."

A few nights later Cathy, Steve, Allen, Glynnis, and Theresa were all in the audience ready for the show.

The hypnotist started his show with the usual disclaimers plus promises from the audience they all understood it was just in fun, and they wouldn't hold him accountable for any silly embarrassment. This was followed by several comical little skits and a few feats of real hypnotic achievement. These were all accomplished to show the audience the authenticity of his act.

With the preliminaries out of the way the hypnotist discreetly got Theresa's attention, and went into the routine she wanted. He started his spiel with enthusiasm, "Now we're going to try something a little off the wall. To do this I'm going to need some new volunteers from the audience. Could I get three ladies please?"

Everyone looked around the room. Most were pretending to try to see who else might volunteer. They did this to avoid being volunteered by a friend.

The hypnotist looked out at the audience, "All right I don't see anyone rushing to come up. Tell me should I choose people?"

The audience cheered. There was a general clamor for him to make the selections. He looked out in the crowd. He pointed toward Glynnis, "There! I see a beautiful young lady right there ready to come up."

Everyone laughed. People started to point to Glynnis and encourage her to come up. Finally she reluctantly agreed.

The hypnotist called to the crowd, "Let's give our first volunteer a round of applause." While everyone applauded he added, "To ease the burden on our first participant maybe we can get her to help by choosing someone else to join us on stage?"

Glynnis turned and pointed to another woman. She pointed to an elegantly dressed young woman at her table. The audience cheered, and the elegant young woman was compelled to go on stage.

Cathy hesitantly went to the stage. She was attired in a beautiful black cocktail dress. It was very low cut with small straps and tiny short sleeves on the outer most extreme of her shoulders. The cut was low and swept broadly down and around to just above her breast line. Her small breasts were tightly sheathed in comfortable demi-cups, but still gave the impression they might spill out of the dress any second. With a little imagination one might have seen the uppermost border of two dainty brown aureoles.

The dress had a tight but not uncomfortable empire waist, and a loosely cut skirt that drifted softly down to just above her knees. It was an elegant gown that gave the impression of revealing more than it really did. Her dress was companioned by black nylons and black leather four inch heels that shimmered as she walked on stage.

Her hair was short, of course dark brown, parted on the left side and combed across the front of her forehead. The rest of the cut did not extend further than the bottom of her ears. It glistened under the bright lights of the stage. It was lush and thick. Many of the men in the audience saw it and fantasized they were rummaging their fingers through her tight luscious coif.

carvohi
carvohi
2,548 Followers
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