Too Clever by a Mile

They got to the hospice late, after midnight. All the children were supposed to be asleep. When they walked in the nurse at the desk told Steve the newest child was sound asleep. He could look in, though she advised against two visitors. Steve suggested that Cathy look in on the little girl she'd seen on her first visit. Cathy assumed the girl was probably asleep so she agreed.

The nurse agreed to allow Cathy see Ginger since it was on Steve's dime. While Steve went down to look in on the new boy, the nurse escorted Cathy to Ginger's room. When Cathy first looked in she barely recognized the girl in the bed. She remembered a fairly bright and perky, though sick, little girl. The girl she saw on this night looked horrid.

The nurse whispered, "It's the medication plus the leukemia. One stops the pain, but nothing stops the disease."

Cathy moved over to get a closer look. As she did the girl rolled over. Her deep dark brown eyes were filled with water, "Miss Cathy?"

She was trapped! The last thing she wanted was have to stop and talk to somebody's dying child, "It's me."

The little girl tried to move. The nurse intervened. She looked at Cathy, "We better go."

Ginger tried to squirm and sit up, "No, please."

The nurse was caught between a rock and a hard place.

Cathy got a little closer. She was quite scared, "Hi kid."

Ginger patted the side of the bed, "Lie down here."

Cathy looked at the nurse hoping for a rescue.

The nurse looked back her, "In for a penny in for a pound."

Cathy lay down beside the sickly girl. She whispered, "How have you been?"

Ginger asked, "You and Mr. Steve boyfriend and girlfriend yet?"

Cathy lied, "We sure are."

Ginger managed to snuggle a little closer, "Lie here with me. My mom and dad are far away all the time, and I have three brothers. They can't see me much. Gee your body feels cool."

Cathy realized the girl was feverish, probably achy, and certainly more than a little lonely. Cathy had never had to worry about being lonely. She'd grown up with a mom and dad and two brothers. Her mom had always been home. Aside from an abusive father, right up until the time her mother killed herself, she never lacked for anything. Cathy thought about it. She'd had a rough time, but nothing like what this little girl was going through. She got a little closer to Ginger, "I'm awful tired. I have to go home soon."

Ginger squirmed a little closer, "I feel fragile. Stay here; stay with me."

Cathy knew what fragile meant, she probably ached all over. She whispered back, "Maybe for a little while."

Ginger whispered. "My mom has big bubbies. Yours are small. I like yours. They don't get in my face."

Cathy was nonplussed. She hated her small breasts. She'd often considered implants. This was the first time anyone had ever praised her for being little, "I bet you'll have nice ones like your mom."

Ginger smiled, "I don't think so."

"Sure you will."

Ginger's eyes got wider, "Only when I'm in heaven."

That scared the shit out of Cathy. This little girl knew, "Don't say that."

The nurse realized things could get out of hand. She didn't want Ginger to get upset, "Miss Cathy you have to go now."

Ginger held on tightly, "You'll come back?"

Cathy pulled away, "Sure I will."

"You promise?"

"I promise."

Steve was outside Ginger's door when Cathy came out, "Thanks for letting me stop by. I got to see the new boy, and while you were with Ginger I got to walk around a little bit, I get here everyday, but sometimes I don't get around to see the kids. How's Ginger?"

Cathy gave him a look that would have killed a weaker man, "Take me home."

He realized her visit must have been traumatic, "It's hard to watch."

"She really is going to die."

He understood, "They usually do."

She had tears in her eyes, "How do you?" She couldn't complete the thought.

He took her hand. "I'm sorry."

After that their relationship evolved in another direction. Cathy started to see things differently. Steve wasn't just another man waiting to be emasculated; he was different. He made her feel different. She realized he never talked about himself; it was always the hospice, and the kids, and helping people. He was a different breed of cat.

One thing led to another. He asked her to move in with him. She refused. He promised no hanky panky, but that didn't matter. Her answer was still no.

He persisted. She still wouldn't move in, but he kept wearing her down. She wouldn't move in, but she did succumb to his endearments.

He was a real gentleman. They kept the carnality to a minimum. She was glad of it. Somehow though he started working on her appearance. He was a good talker. He got her out of her brassieres, and into camisoles, and he persuaded her to give up on the hair rinses. She couldn't figure him out. He was so kind, so considerate, and in many ways so persuasive.

Under his caring and considerate eye she slowly metamorphosed. He made her feel prettier without the extra make-up, without the spiked heels, and without the sexy clothes. She was becoming somebody else. She didn't know who yet, but she knew she liked her.

Steve found Cathy an easy person to influence. She wanted someone to tell her she was prettier just being herself. She wasn't very pretty actually, but she sure looked better as a real person than she did as the caricature of a sexpot. He always believed pretty was as pretty did; it's what people do that makes them pretty not how they look. In that respect he thought she got prettier every day. He told her too.

He found excuses to hold her hand, maybe protectively rest a hand on her shoulder, guide her by the elbow. When they talked he found reasons to touch her face, her cheeks and ears; maybe there was an imaginary piece of food, an errant lock of hair. He could tell she liked the attention; often she'd involuntarily lean into his hand like she was looking for a caress. She pretended to be worldly, sophisticated and cynical, but there was a gentle side, a girlish soft side he sensed was crying to get out. He did everything he could to cultivate that side of her.

She started looking more wholesome. He got her to forgo the slick dresses and pseudo-austerity of her mannish suits. He got her into skirts and blouses, and jumpers, and pretty day dresses that showed an entirely different side of her. He got her to start to see big breasts and curvy thighs weren't necessarily sexy, that sexiness was in a bright smile, and flashing eyes. In that respect he got her out of her phony colored contact lenses. She started to look younger, more crisp and clean, healthier, and he had to say, more vivacious. She stopped looking like somebody's whore, and started looking like somebody's pretty girlfriend, maybe his girlfriend. He had to admit he was smitten.

More Changes:

Cathy's relationship with Steve, and the way she was changing was troublesome. She'd thought she had a purpose, but that purpose kept getting blocked by good deeds. At first it was Steve's good deeds, but pretty soon she found herself something of a co-conspirator. They spent more time at the hospice. Cathy went with Steve to see all the kids, but she always managed to find an excuse to spend most of her time with Ginger.

Ginger's leukemia seemed to go into remission, and that cheered Cathy up. Maybe the little girl would beat the odds. She started bringing her presents. She bought her a big panda bear. The kid loved it. They made up stories, they told fibs to the nurses when they came in. She met the girl's parents. They were nice people, a little tired but nice.

Steve felt good about Cathy. He liked being with her. He'd been lonely since Leah had died, and Cathy gave him another reason to get up each morning. It took a lot of talking but he eventually managed to get her to move in with him. At first she occupied his bedroom, while he slept down the hall. Then he managed to break through. He thought he'd found a way into her heart.

It had happened quite by accident. He guessed those kind of things usually did. They made plans to visit one of his acquaintances, a potential donor. Cathy came downstairs wearing a long blue dress with a deep cut decollete, bare back, ultra high heels, and dark blue stockings. She thought she looked good.

Actually the dress looked too large, and the color just wasn't right for her. There was too much plunge to the neckline for a woman with such small breasts, and the open back looked tawdry. He remembered how one thing led to another.

She asked, "How do I look?"

Steve smiled, "You look terrific, sexy, but are you sure that's what you want"

Cathy grew diffident, "Why, what's wrong?"

Steve grinned, "The Hanseth's are both in their seventies. They might not appreciate your beauty."

Cathy got defensive, "Well what do you think would meet the Hanseth's approval?"

He answered, "I don't know, let's go up and look?"

Together they went upstairs. Cathy opened the closet and all her drawers. She defiantly told him, "OK, pick something out."

He grinned, "Is it all right?"

She was perturbed, "Yeah, pick something."

He laughed, "All right. I'll pick while you get undressed."

She thought, not a bad idea. So she slipped out of the dress while he rummaged through her clothes.

She was standing in her bra, panties, and stockings when he turned around. He had a simple tan blouse. It was a soft cotton fabric, short sleeved, pretty V-neck. In his other hand he had a dark brown pleated skirt.

She looked at what he had. He'd chosen things she normally set aside as day wear, "You want me to wear that?"

He looked at her. The bra she had on looked out of place. She had small firm breasts; the brassiere made her look like an adolescent trying to appear older than she really was, "The bra is very pretty, but it looks unnatural on you.

"Unnatural?"

"You're petite Cathy. The bra makes you look like you want to be a big woman. You're not some big buxom blond; you're delicate and feminine. I mean your chest is naturally beautiful without the added accoutrements. Let's find you a nice camisole; something that will show your best qualities to full advantage."

"Camisole?"

"Cathy I think you've got a great shape, but maybe you could wear something a little different up top?"

"Up top, like what?"

"I'm not being fresh, but you have delicious breasts, yet you don't show them in their best light."

"Best light?"

He blushed, "They're small. You don't need a lot of trim work. Let your breasts go free. They'll be even prettier than they already are."

She liked the way he talked to her, the nice things he said about her body, a body she'd never been very pleased with. She started to undo her bra. Steve fished out a camisole. He walked over, "Here let me help you?"

While she stood still, maybe a little miffed at his confidence, he carefully slipped the camisole over her shoulders. As he did his hand softly rubbed over her. As he drew the camisole down over her chest, he softly rubbed over her breasts with the palms of his hands.

Cathy felt the warmth of his hands. They were dry and firm, not overlarge but good steady hands; and the way they passed over her aureole and the sides of her breasts made her feel warm. Her nipples reacted like they had a mind of their own by getting larger and pressing outward like they were independently reaching up for his fingertips. She turned around. He was much taller than she was. She had to look up to catch his eye. As she looked up he looked down. He had hazel eye, but at that moment all she saw was pupil. She felt a wave of pulsating warmth sweep over her.

He took his right hand and held the back of her head. He leaned down and softly kissed her parted lips. While he kissed her his left hand gently caressed her bottom.

In an instant his pants were down. An instant later they were both sitting on the bed; him on the bed, her on his lap with her legs straddling his. She slowly sank down on his manhood. It wasn't some high striking moment, no earth shattering event, but it sure was warm and sensuous. She slowly rose and fell on his penis.

He sat there kissing her face and caressing her breasts. It was over in five minutes. He sprayed his semen deep inside. She didn't resist. It hadn't been an earthquake, but it sure felt comfortable and good.

Immediately afterward she rested her head on his shoulder, "Well that was unexpected."

He fumbled around trying to find something to say, "I didn't mean that to happen. I'm glad it did though." He kept kissing her.

She kissed him back.

He commented, "I'll call the Hanseth's."

She replied, "No we better go. It's for the hospice."

He was surprised by her remark. So far he'd rightly interpreted her interest in the hospice as mild condescension, like he was being patronized, but this time she sounded different. He thought he detected sincerity, a real concern, "You're right."

It had happened so fast. It had been so comfortable, so warm, and so natural. The next morning he was back in his own bedroom. It was the start of a new paradigm. From then on, though they had their moments, mostly they talked and cuddled. Only occasionally did the proximity of their bodies result in anything more.

He liked the closeness of her body. She was small, much smaller than any woman he'd ever been with. He could wrap his arms it seemed almost around her twice. He felt more manly sleeping next to her than he'd ever felt with any other woman. He couldn't explain it, he just did. Maybe it was her diminutive size, maybe her soft lilting voice, maybe the unconscious gentility of her demeanor, but he found himself, more and more, thinking about her, contemplating a future with her.

Cathy sensed the change too. Cathy's husbands had been weaklings. Neither showed that much affection. They played the sex game. They hopped in bed. Played the macho thing, got done and went to sleep.

Most of the time Steve didn't even want to have sex. He just wanted to be close. She preferred that. Often sex with her husbands had made her feel claustrophobic. They'd want to climb on top and bounce around and hammer away. Sometimes she felt like they were just masturbating in her womb. She didn't have to be there at all. Steve made her feel different, more feminine, and like it mattered that they were together. He made her feel soft inside.

When they had sex he talked to her, usually he just whispered what she called sweet nothings, but he knew she was there, and she felt like he wanted her to have as much pleasure as he did. He cared if she had anything happen. Once he'd ejaculated prematurely, something her husbands occasionally did too. Steve didn't just roll off and go to sleep. He kept cuddling and kissing and fondling until she got her satisfaction too. The moment wasn't quite the same as a real orgasm, but she felt really good afterward, all cuddly and goose bumpy.

After that first time their conversations started to change. Steve opened up more about the hospice, what he wanted to do. She had ideas too. She wanted to contribute more. She couldn't explain the way she felt; maybe it was Steve, maybe it was the idea of the kids, maybe it was Ginger?

Something's Up:

One evening late after Cathy and Steve had eaten Steve got a phone call. It was Theresa one of Steve's oldest and dearest friends. Steve was lounging on the sofa in the living room, reading a pamphlet published by a much older, larger, and more successful hospice. Cathy was on the carpet at his feet watching television. She had her head on his knee and her hand in his trousers.

It seemed lately Cathy spent more and more time kneeling near where he was sitting or pushing whatever he was doing out of the way so she could take over his lap. She was getting to be like a puppy dog that way, always looking for attention. When they weren't kissing or cuddling she was hovering.

He had to admit he liked it. Whether she was on the floor, on his lap, or just laying her head on his lap she always managed to find a way to get his zipper down so she could fiddle with his penis. He was hard half the time he was awake anymore.

The other day he was in his office at his desk working. Cathy was sitting on her behind beside him just letting him fondle her hair when an old friend and heavy contributor came in. Cathy slipped under the desk between his legs. The man, an older gentleman, had taken up a seat across from Steve. Luckily the desk went all the way to the floor in front so the older man couldn't see where she was hiding.

There Steve sat at his desk, ink blotter on top, him looking like he was working and this older man seated across. The older man kept asking questions about some blueprints related to a proposed addition. Under the desk Cathy was on her ass, her head right at his groin with her hands all over his scrotum and penis. She didn't touch him with her mouth. She'd never done that, not yet anyway, but there she was right at his crotch. Every time the older man asked a question she tickled his penis or ran her fingers over his scrotum. It was all he could do to keep from laughing out loud. Here was this older man, a close friend trying to be serious, and all the while Cathy was playing with him.

Once the man had finished he remembered walking him out the front door only to return to see Cathy stark naked kneeling in the middle of the rug. He tried to ignore her, but she tackled him and wrestled his pants off. They did it right there on floor, though he got rug burns on his knees It was really marvelous.

Anyway he got this phone call from Theresa. She said she needed to see him right away. She had some news that would be of interest to him.

The next day they got together at her house. She said she had some disquieting news about Cathy. Apparently Allen and Glynnis Peregoy had met her or seen her someplace else. They checked her out through a mutual friend who knew a lawyer. It seemed Cathy had a past. She'd been married twice already, and both times she'd managed to strip her husbands of nearly all their resources. Worse she had apparently done it with a certain amount of animosity; something about getting what they deserved.

Steve listened. He said it sure didn't sound like the Cathy he'd come to know, but Theresa assured him it was true. She had names and dates, no pictures. It looked damned incriminating. Was Cathy a gold-digger, and was he her next victim? He went back home that afternoon deeply troubled.

Later that evening Cathy must have sensed something was wrong. She kept questioning him about where he'd been and what he'd done that afternoon. Also she said she felt sick. She'd seen Ginger that afternoon while he was out, and the girl didn't look so good.

Steve wondered whether Cathy was really worried about Ginger, or if she was using Ginger to get at him. Up till then he would have bet his last penny she cared about the kids, but Theresa's revelations cast a long shadow of doubt. He decided he needed to take some concrete action.

The first way to check on Cathy's story he figured was to see if she was sincere about contributing to the hospice. To accomplish that he got his lawyer over one evening, and together the three of them worked out a plan where Cathy could invest her money in some of Steve's projects, and concurrently set aside some money for the hospice. They showed her the paperwork. She'd signed it without hesitation. Steve thought that was pretty strong evidence she was for real. The second test would come at a dinner party. As it turned out it would the first of two big dinner parties where Cathy would be the center of attention.

Steve and his friends who knew the score had planned something with Cathy in mind, then a few evenings before the party Steve had this malevolent urge. It wasn't what he would call a cruel urge, but it was definitely different from the normal way he felt. He was angry; angry at himself, and angry at Cathy. He was unhappy about what he'd heard and couldn't accept it. He bought some ribbon at a craft shop, some red ribbon. That evening after he and she had finished a nice dinner of fish and salad and she'd gone upstairs and put on something for bed, he called her in his office