The Rent-a-Man Blues

The Rent-A-Man Blues

by Robert Lubrican

zbookstore Edition

Copyright 2015 Robert Lubrican

2^nd Edition 2025

License Notes

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to zbookstore.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

Rights to use cover art purchased at istock.com

 

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Table of Contents

Chapters: Prologue | One | Two | Three | Four | Five | Six

Seven | Eight | Nine | Ten | Eleven | Afterword

 

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

 

Prologue

Megan Tomlinson graduated from the school of hard knocks before she graduated from college. Of course most people have problems to deal with as they grow up, but Megan seemed to have more than her share. Like when she'd gotten pregnant at sixteen, and decided to keep the baby.

Along the way, she learned that, with each problem, there usually came an opportunity as well. Such as happening to get hired at the same fast food restaurant as Sam Tomlinson. She knew of him but had never talked to him. He ran in different circles than her boyfriend, Randy, whose father had gotten a transfer to another state right after she told Randy he was going to be a father. Coincidence happens, of course, but it hurt her that Randy had never even said goodbye when his family moved.

Sam was friendly to her, which was rare. A lot of her friends found little time for her as her belly swelled. They seemed to think her condition was 'catching'. But Sam had been in puppy love with her for years and was less concerned with the fact that some other guy had gotten her pregnant than that she was willing to give him a chance now. Of course she didn't know about his years-long crush on her, and he had no idea she was basically being shunned by most others.

Still, it seemed like an unlikely match as their budding friendship moved outside the fast food joint. She was tall, over six feet and had been a setter on the volleyball team before she got pregnant. He was five-eight, genetically beefy and a whiz at math. He tutored her, in fact, in the math class she was having so much difficulty in and it changed both of their lives. That was because he had a knack for explaining things that helped her understand years of fuzzy mathematical concepts so that they all made sense. Her current class started making sense too, until she didn't need his help any more. Now math was fun, which was something she'd never experienced before.

They grew closer and closer but their future looked dismal. Her parents wanted her to go to college, despite the baby, and her mother was willing to care for her grandchild while Megan went to classes. Her test scores suggested she should pursue engineering and they lived in Atlanta, home of Georgia Tech and one of the finest engineering programs in the country. But there was the money issue. Her grades hadn't generated scholarships, and her family wasn't wealthy.

Sam was also from a family of few means. He also wanted to go to college, but his plan was to join the military and use the GI Bill for that.

A solution to that problem had arisen on prom night, when Sam had proudly escorted his six-months-pregnant girlfriend to the dance. He heard the snickers but didn't care about them. He considered those people idiots. As they danced to a slow tune the baby turned in her womb and he felt the movement. It astonished him. They'd held hands before, but before this night they hadn't hugged, or kissed, or traded any of the sweet nothings that most sweethearts do. He was her steadfast more-than-just friend and she was his most appreciative wounded dove. But feeling that baby move in her changed everything in Sam Tomlinson. After the prom, while they sat, munching on fries and burgers in the car, he asked if he could feel her belly. She had changed into maternity pants and a T shirt, and simply pulled the shirt up to bare the stretched skin that covered her unborn daughter.

As his hand moved over that skin, the baby moved again, almost as if she recognized the hand of one who loved it. And he realized he did love her. He was in love with Megan, and the baby under his hand was simply part of her.

"I wish I was her father," he whispered, without realizing he'd spoken aloud.

She leaned over and kissed him with warm lips. It was impulsive, unplanned, and almost shockingly pleasant.

"I do too," she whispered back.

He was startled, as his brain tried to understand what had just happened. Then she was kissing him again as her body and soul reached for the love and closeness she had been denied before this. She was like a starving woman who had suddenly been offered a feast. His reaction was similar, as unbelievable things happened between them, things he had only dreamed of on long, lonely nights as his fantasies ran wild.

She would have let him have her sexually, except it was impossible in the car, in such a cramped space. Instead she did for him the only thing she'd never done with any other boy. She used her mouth on him until he exploded in hysterical joy, convincing herself that swallowing was mandatory, to show how much she needed his love.

It was a wild night, and both were a bit dazed the next day. He proposed the next night, in front of her parents. They weren't impressed until he laid out a surprisingly well thought-out plan, wherein he joined the Army, which came with the kind of benefits for his wife that Megan did not currently have, including both medical care for her, but also for the baby. There was a housing allowance, and Fort McPhereson, right there in Atlanta had services available, such as the PX and Commissary. She could still go to college and her mother could still provide the daycare while that happened.

Once he'd laid it out her parents stopped frowning. Her mother looked at Megan, who looked like a pale marble statue.

"Do you love him?" she asked, almost immediately wishing she hadn't. It wasn't fair to either of them.

"Oh, I love him all right," she whispered. "I just can't believe it, that's all."

There was more talk, hours more, but at one point Megan just shouted "Yes!" at the top of her lungs. That came in the midst of a discussion about what he'd be doing in the Army (something he didn't know yet) but everybody present knew exactly what her screamed affirmative meant. There was a brief pause while the two youngsters hugged and kissed each other and then it was back to making sure that everything had been thought of.

It had.

Well ... except for the needs of the Army, which, at the moment he enlisted, meant they needed bodies to fill slots in the Military Occupational Specialty numbered: 11B. That was infantry. His scores on the entry test qualified him for many other MOSes, but the recruiter had been instructed to fill infantry slots, so that's what he did.

On the "don't-tell-anybody-I-told-you-this" recommendation of the same recruiter they got married before he joined. That made things much easier in the sense that it made her benefits kick in immediately after he raised his hand and swore the oath all military personnel swear, to defend the constitution and oppose all enemies, both foreign and domestic. When he went off to basic training she could get a military doctor and make all the plans to deliver the baby in a Military hospital.

Then they sent her husband to basic training, after which he went to his first unit, which just happened to be on the next rotation for Iraq.

He did two tours which, with extensions, meant that out of his four year enlistment he was actually only stateside for a total of thirteen months. The problem with that was that "home" was defined as Megan's parents' house because she was still in school. He, on the other hand, was stationed at Fort Lewis, Washington. It was tough on them both, but they bucked up and just called it a down payment on the rest of their lives, because soon he'd be out. The problem with that was that she was in a five year engineering program, which meant he'd have to find some way to support her for a year before she could get a job and then he could use the GI Bill to get his own degree.

They were young. His bright personality had taken some hits because of what he had seen over there, but they were still full of hope.

Which is why he extended for a year, with his commander's promise that he could stay stateside.

His commander lied, and it wasn't in writing, so there wasn't anything Sam could do about it.

So he went with the unit when they deployed again.

Five days after he arrived in country, the vehicle he was riding in on patrol hit an IED. Sam and two of his brothers in arms were killed.

He was survived by his wife and four year old daughter, who bore his name, if not his genes.

Chapter One

On this bright spring day, as Megan looked back over all the problems she'd had in her relatively young life, she was sure there had to be a way to deal with this latest one. It was going to be a stinker, but she was sure it could be done. She turned to Hamako Fukuji, a slim dark-haired girl with glasses that masked, to some degree, her Oriental features.

"Are you sure about this, Hamako?" she asked.

"I'm certain," said the girl. Her English was flawless because she was a graduate student in the Engineering school and had spent six years in the United States. Megan had hired her as a translator when a Japanese industrialist expressed interest in producing her invention. "My sources in Tokyo were very clear. Mr. Nakimura is very well known as a successful industrialist, but very traditional man. He is old school in ways you would not understand. Because you have signed everything with just your initials, he has no idea you are female. If he finds this out, though, he will refuse to do business with you. He would lose face with his colleagues if he negotiated with a woman."

"He talks to you!" Megan pointed out.

"In his mind, I am merely an underling, someone to whom you ... a man ... has entrusted certain communication tasks. All I do is speak and translate Japanese. He might wish to bed me, but as far as business goes, I am nothing."

"That's kind of harsh," said Megan.

Hamako shrugged. "It is sometimes the way things are in Japan. Change comes very slowly there."

"But he wants to come here!" said Megan. "He wants to talk to the inventor!"

"Did I not translate that information for you?" Hamako sounded injured.

"Of course you did," moaned Megan. "How am I supposed to become a man in just three weeks? I have too much invested in this for the bottom to drop out now. Men are so pig-headed!" She finished with a snarl.

"Why do you think I have found ways to remain here?" asked the thoroughly Americanized young Japanese woman. "You think I want to go back home and take up my traditional role as a subservient, tip-toeing, non-speaking woman? Not me, sister!"

"I need this to work, Hamako," pleaded Megan.

"All you have to do is find yourself a husband for Mr. Nakimura to negotiate with," said the girl, simply.

"Like they grow on trees," snorted Megan.

"I am plain," said Hamako, humbly. "Yet men hit on me constantly. You are beautiful. You should have no problem getting a man."

"I don't want a man!" moaned Megan. "I've had two. The first one was a jerk and the second one was the love of my life and was taken from me, breaking my heart. My track record with men ain't great, Hamako."

"You have many friends. Hire one to become your husband until Mr. Nakimura leaves. He is only coming for a site visit and to have face time with his intended business partner. He could send anyone to do his bidding but he wants to come himself and throw his weight around, impress and manipulate you. He probably thinks that by being here in person he can save ten times what it will cost him to come here. This is something Japanese men do. He will come, boast, drink, do business, and leave. He has many irons in the fire, and as long as the company here is well run, he will not think of it again."

"How can I run the company well if he can't know I'm a woman?" moaned Megan.

"He doesn't know you are a woman now. A little trick while he's here will maintain that subterfuge. Once he leaves and the plant is built it will be too late for him to back out. All you need is a man to front for you while he's here ... sort of a rental husband."

"A rental husband," sighed Megan. "That doesn't sound all that great to me."

"Well, you must do something. Confucius say even a turtle only makes progress when it sticks its neck out. Besides, maybe you can find someone to rent who is handsome ... friendly ... maybe even fun to be with," said Hamako.

"Someone handsome, friendly and fun to be with is the last thing I need," growled Megan. She caught herself before she said how long it had been since she'd had sex. It had been so long, in fact, that she couldn't remember what it had been like. She didn't need a man messing up her life again ... dragging all those feelings out of her mental closet, where she'd stuffed them.

"This is America," said Hamako. "Surely there is a rent-a-man type company here somewhere."

"Now you're making it sound like there will be expenses involved. I don't have much money. I've spent it all developing the invention."

"If I had any money I'd love to get in on the ground floor. Maybe you can barter a piece of the company in exchange for this rental; husband's help with this little problem. Surely you know someone in the business community, someone you've done business with."

The answer appeared in Megan's mind like a burst of fireworks. She couldn't believe she hadn't thought of him immediately. He already knew a lot about the invention. She had bounced ideas off of him for years and he had given her good advice. He did know business, having run his own for a decade, and he had contacts all over the place he could enlist to help them pull this scheme off.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Bob Tomlinson leaned against the corral gate, rolling a cigarette and split his glances between that task and looking at Megan Tomlinson. He'd looked at her a lot over the years, starting with when his little brother, Sam, had gone all moon-eyed over her in high school.

He licked the edge of the paper and completed the roll, shaping the final product with his fingers.

"Let me get this straight," he said. "A Japanese industrialist is interested in your invention and wants to build a plant to make it here, in the U.S.A., and he's coming to meet you to get that ball rolling ... except he thinks you're a man."

"Right," Megan nodded.

"But as anyone can plainly see," said Bob, his eyes darting down and back up again, "You are clearly not a man."

"Right," she nodded again.

"And you want me to find you some man to pretend to be your husband ... and the inventor of The Stitch Bitch."

She frowned. "I'm not calling it The Stitch Bitch anymore," she said. "I liked that name, but it just won't work on a global basis."

"So what are you calling it now?" asked Bob.

"I don't know," she said. "I'm looking at several things. But that's not the point, Bob. This is my big chance, and I don't want to blow it."

"Blow it," mused Bob. "Hold that thought."

Robert Meredith Tomlinson, former CEO of Techron Plastics, which he had started, built and then sold, making him a man worth hundreds of millions, was leaning against the corral that held some of his hundred thousand dollar hobbies. He reached into his torn and dusty jeans, pulling out a strike-anywhere match. With well-practiced motions he brought the nail of his right thumb to the white tip of the match and, holding the stick firmly with the other fingers of that hand, nicked the surface with a quick jerk. The match flared to life and he touched the ball of fire to the tip of the freshly rolled cigarette he had put in his mouth with the other hand. He took a long drag, blew it out with a long sigh, and dropped the rest of the cigarette to the ground, where the tip of his dusty cowboy boot ground it into the dirt.

"I wish I still smoked," he sighed.

"Based on what I just saw ... you do," said Megan, her voice wry.

"I only take that first drag," he complained.

"It's still smoking," she pointed out.

"A pack a day is smoking," he argued.

"Come on, Bob. You're supposed to be helping me."

There had been another reason for Bob's extended ritual involving his cigarette. He only carried the little bag of cut tobacco and papers when he was working with his horses. It was part of his "costume" as he thought of it. But the real use it had just served was to get him past her comment about "blowing it."

Bob Tomlinson had been a hard-driving college sophomore back when his little brother had started dating Megan Trimble. Bob was in the chemical engineering program and it was kicking his ass. That was because, while classes took up only six hours a day, the homework and studying for those classes required double that, leaving only six hours for eating, sleeping, going to the toilet and everything else there is in life. It's pretty hard to have a successful romance when you can only offer your true love half an hour a day, max. For that reason, his social life was put on hold until such time as he could get through some of the hairier courses. Living at home helped financially, but there were too many distractions from studying.

Such as little Megan Trimble, who wasn't so little. She began to turn up more and more often at their house and it was clear that Sam was smitten by her. She was cute as a bug, and Bob had dozens of fantasies about her, young as she was. Of course he didn't do anything about it. She was Sam's, after all. And much too young.

Then there was the revelation that she was pregnant - something that had happened pre-Sam - and the even bigger revelation, at least for Bob, that Sam didn't care. After that he could see the pain in Megan's eyes sometimes and pretty soon he didn't care who the father of her child was either. He learned that there is something about a pregnant woman that makes her sexy by default. He could look at any woman walking down the street and imagine that she might be willing to be intimate with a man. Such as himself. But looking at Megan, he saw a woman who was undeniably willing to be intimate with a man. She had been intimate with a man. The evidence was right there, sticking out for all the world to see. And if she'd done it for sure with whoever ... then the fantasy that involved her being willing to do it with him too was easy to think about. Fantasy was about all he had time for anyway.

He kept an infrequent eye on her as his studies got even more demanding, and when she and his little brother decided to get married he shoved his fantasies about her into a hidden place in his mind and was happy for them.

It was as his own dream of owning a company began to come true, that his brother's dreams, and those of his wife, were crushed. Sam's death hit them all hard, but it was especially rough on Megan. Then his father's Alzheimer’s progressed to the point where his mother had her own hands full. She wanted to keep him at home as long as possible. So it fell to Bob to try to take care of Megan and Raleigh, his "niece", though he still had trouble viewing the cute little girl in that capacity, while running his burgeoning company and keeping an eye on his parents too.

It was a lot to put on any man's plate, but Bob had been born to slay dragons, in a world where there weren't any. So he sallied forth to defeat other beasts, in the form of problems that people he loved were having.

Eventually Megan got back on her feet. Raleigh, who leaned on him heavily to be a stable male presence in her life, was impossible not to love. What they had gone through with Sam prepared them, at least a little, for the loss of Bob's father when the Alzheimer's took him. Then, only six short months later his mother, lost without the man she'd spent the last forty-five years with, abandoned the will to live and slipped into eternity to go find him.

Obituaries often use the words "survived by" as they list the people left behind. In losing first his little brother, and then his parents, he finally understood what "survived" actually meant. He had no one but his little brother's widow and her daughter. And they had little more than him.

But it was complicated. There was some question as to whether Bob Tomlinson and Megan Tomlinson were still officially related. There was no question at all that Raleigh had none of the blood of his family running in her veins. And yet, they were still indelibly linked by being survivors. That bond was as strong as a blood bond, at least as far as Bob was concerned.

His business, thanks to all those hours he'd put in studying, flourished. He had several really good people working for him. He won multiple government contracts, which was when the sharks started circling. But he knew about the sharks and instead of waiting for his share of wealth to come from future profits he sold the company to the sharks and took his profits then and there, banking more than three hundred million. That let him 'retire' at the tender age of thirty. He bought the ranch and some breeding stock, and took it easy for a while. Being there for Megan and Raleigh was just part of life, so he kept doing that too.

He experienced the same issues that almost anyone does who comes into a lot of money. There are literally thousands of people who desperately want to help spend it. Not only that, they somehow feel that they have the right to help spend it. And, while he now had time for women in his life, the kind of women he met these days were more attracted to his money than to him, which didn't serve his needs worth squat. Truth be told, he could hire a live-in hooker for less than a girlfriend would cost him, but he wasn't interested in casual sex. He had that with his hand, whenever it was needed. And that was free.

So, after a thoroughly unsatisfying period of about six months, he more or less became celibate and concentrated on his horses and thinking up new ideas for plastics.

There came a time when Megan turned down his offers of "a loan" and began her stubborn drive to be completely independent, and capable of raising her daughter without anyone's help. He was still welcome in their home, but not his money. She had always loved sewing, and supported herself as a seamstress. Part of that involved fancy embroidery, which could be done by hand - at enormous expense - or by machine. But the computerized machines that did this kind of work would accept only proprietary software, which the sewing machine companies invariably contracted out the development of. When the contract was finished there was no support for the software problems that invariably popped up over time. A program designed to run on Microsoft Vista, for example, refused to work once Vista was left in the dust by advancing technology. The sewing machine companies were in business to build machines, not update and upgrade software. It was very frustrating to the (mostly) women who used that software.

So, educating herself on how these systems worked, Megan designed an embroidery module that could be used with any machine, via adapters that were specific to each brand. Bob's advice and counsel was welcome, but she refused his offers to buy into "the company," seeing them as more attempts at charity. They weren't. His mother had had an expensive sewing machine, with an embroidery module, but the company refused to keep up with technological advancements, meaning the module couldn't be used after a year or two, unless one had an antiquated computer to slave it to. In a world where some people had never even seen a three and a half inch floppy disk, that was all that would work with that extremely expensive system.

Megan had solved all that by creating a software translator. So her system could be used on any machine, and would be able to be updated at her website, once it was built, regardless of the brand of machine the customer had. The potential for sales was enormous and Bob knew that. Owning a piece of the company would simply be a good investment, in his mind. He had been there when she did the first test, and muttered "Stitch ... bitch!" It had, and he had suddenly been enveloped in the arms of a dancing, screaming woman.

And that was when Bob was reminded that, with all the troubles and issues he'd had to work through over the last ten or so years, he'd never seemed to find the time to get himself a woman. He was reminded of that by the feel of her breasts crushed between them, and the smell of her hair, and her arms pulling him to her.

And suddenly, little Megan Trimble-Tomlinson represented a whole different kind of woman than she had before. It was as though he had been transported back to those hectic days when he was distracted from studying by that cute, pregnant girl who grinned and chirped, "Hi Bob!" when she came over to see his little brother.

It only got worse as the next year went by. He was happy with her successes, even though she hadn't been able to turn her invention into a money-maker yet. He did get her to let him fund some prototypes, but she insisted on formal documents, listing it as a loan, to be repaid, with interest. That was fine with him. He just wanted to ensure that she had a chance to succeed, as he had been able to succeed.

But she was still a major distraction in his life. She was healthy, beautiful, and a joyful person just to be around. He tried dating again, but his "wimmen skills" as he thought of them had atrophied. Plus, his money still drew a certain kind of woman he wasn't interested in at all.

Meanwhile Raleigh grew up and got just as distracting as her mother was.

All of which is an admittedly long-winded way of explaining that, when she said she didn't want to "blow it," what Bob Tomlinson had thought of didn't have anything to do with failures in business. And it was to get the image of her soft, pink lips wrapped firmly around his aching erection out of his mind, that he went through his cigarette ritual.

"Bob?" Her voice brought him back to the present. "Surely you know somebody who could help me ... somebody I could trust ... just to get me through this. I'm sure that once Mr. Nakimura sees everything, and we get production going, and get some sales under our belts ... he'll thaw to the idea that a woman invented it. I just need a little help from a man to get me there."

A thoroughbred racing horse named Pickaninny stuck his nose between the slats of the gate and nipped at the shirt covering Bob's shoulder. He got some of Bob's skin with the shirt and the man ducked away, cursing.

"Hold your people!" he snapped at the horse, which snuffled and stamped, eager to go for a run. He turned to the woman he tried to think of as his friend, or sister-in-law, rather than a MILF.

"Look, you're making this a lot harder than it needs to be. I know you're all proud and stubborn and don't want to take anything from me. But surely I could pose as your husband for a couple of days and it wouldn't hurt your cherished independence."

Megan blinked several times.

"You?" Her voice was high.

"You can even hire me, if it will make you feel better," he said. "I charge a dollar a day, and not a penny less, payable at five in the evening every day I'm on the job. Cash money. No checks accepted."

"You?" she said again, sounding dazed.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

While Megan wasn't aware of just how often she was stripped bare and bedded in Bob's mind, Bob wasn't aware of how often Megan gazed at his shoulders and shivered, ever so quickly, at the thought of running her hands over them. Tall women are at a disadvantage in many ways. One is that shorter men don't approach them all that often, and every woman seems to want a tall man, so those go pretty quickly.

In Megan's case, her experience with men hadn't been all that happy, all things considered. She had loved Sam with everything she had in her, and those few, short years she'd had him were the happiest in her life. But the rejection by Raleigh's father and losing the love of her life had all gone together to sour her on the whole concept of romance. It hurt too much. It wasn't worth it to get to know a man, only to be hurt by, or lose him.

But deep in her mind there were things she barely acknowledged to herself. Foremost among them was that, more and more often over the last three or four years, when her eyes strayed to Bob, they looked at him like he was a man. Not Sam's big brother. Not her brother-in-law. Just a man. A man she liked in ways that were difficult to assess. He woke up things in her that she'd tried to keep asleep for years, things that made her blush when he looked at her.

Yet, looking at the task at hand, deciding whether to "rent" a stranger to come into her house and be in close contact with her for days, compared to having Bob do the same thing, was a no-brainer. Bob was on a different plane of existence. She already knew him ... felt like she'd known him forever. He didn't judge her or try to game her. He cared what she thought - she knew that deep in her bones - and he also cared what happened to her and Raleigh. He was like a solid, old-growth oak tree, tall and stable and unshakable.

Still, butterflies attacked her stomach as she thought of him staying in her house for a week, being familiar with her, such as putting his hand on her back, or around her waist, touching her like a married man touches his wife. Would she need to kiss him?

It was at that point in her life that Megan admitted to herself that Bob Tomlinson was sexy.

She had always known it on a subconscious level. Even when she was in love with Sam she had noticed his big brother. But she had thought hundreds of boys were 'cute' before, and that's all she thought it was, back then. And she'd gotten so used to seeing him that that initial, "He sure is cute," thing got to be so routine that she stopped thinking about it.

Then Sam was killed and Bob's strength was the only thing that let her keep from breaking, herself. He had no idea how important his encircling arms had been to her, in those days. He had no idea that, months and years later, as she healed enough to become more normal, that her attraction to him made her feel guilty. And he had no idea that she'd eventually worked through those feelings and come to peace with the fact that she sometimes lay in bed, gently rubbing her clit, while she thought of him. She still apologized to Sam for it, but the guilt was gone.

Which is why, when he offered to, "pretend to be her husband," as he put it, her mind went a little crazy, in terms of what that might mean.

Finally, though, she beat back the images of them, in bed naked, and the bed rocking like it was in an earthquake, and cleared her mind. It would never work. She knew herself too well. She'd be completely unable to keep her hands off him. He'd be disgusted with her. They were related, after all ... or as good as related. It would be like committing incest!

"I'm not so sure that would be the best idea in the world," her voice said, full of longing.

"Nonsense," he said firmly. "It will be perfect. Besides, I don't have time to become a high speed dating service for you. I don't have that many friends and I don't want them dropping me because I got them involved with a disastrous situation like this."

"I can't sleep with you," she gasped, as the images returned to her fevered brain.

"Of course not," he said, unaware of what she was thinking. "And I know that. Other guys might not. It could get awkward. And even if things get uncomfortable for us we can work through that. We love each other, right? Trust me, this is the perfect resolution to the problem."

Megan, always the problem solver, put her mind to work. He wasn't going to drop this idea and she needed his help. And if he did it, then at least that part of the Nakimura problem would be taken care of. And she could manage things.

"Okay, but we don't sleep in the same room or anything," she said.

"Of course not. That's a given. How would he know anyway?"

"Right. He'll meet you at formal events and such, and we can invite them over for a cookout or something. You can handle the business meetings."

"We can tell him it's a family business, that you're my secretary," said Bob. "That means you'll have to be there for all the meetings. If I need information, you can give it to me."

"Yes!" she said, getting excited. This was all going to work out after all. Bob could bring it off easily.

It wouldn't be a problem for them. It would work.

They were both sure of it.

And things might have actually worked out that way - meaning it was no problem for them - if she hadn't gotten all effusive about the problem being solved.

"Oh thank you so much!" squealed Megan, who just naturally moved to enfold Bob in her arms.

Once again she felt wonderful against him. Once again he got the whiff of clean hair and the hint of some kind of perfume. His hands slid across her back. The urge to kiss her was almost overwhelming and he felt his cock lurch in his jeans. He removed his hands from her back, raising one for another purpose.

Meanwhile, she felt the muscles across his upper back and the strength in his hug. He smelled ever so faintly of tobacco and horses and dust, and she yearned to find a pile of hay they could lie in. She quite consciously inhaled against his shirt instead of looking at him. Looking at him would be a bad thing to do right now because she knew she'd want to kiss him if she looked at him.

She jumped and squawked as his hand left her back and swatted the tight rear end of her jeans.

"Now, go invent something and leave a man to manly things," he said gruffly.

Now she stared at him, color in her face. That hand on her ass had stung, but it had felt good too. She licked her lips. For just a second she wished she could be the vamp with him, seduce him and teach him a lesson. It wasn't nice to make her feel this way; even if he wasn't aware he was doing it. She pushed that thought out of her mind and tried to think of normal things.

"Remember you promised Raleigh she could go riding Saturday," she said with a wave and a grin.

And then she took off running and jumping, like a happy young puppy who was just excited about life.

Except she was no puppy, Bob thought as he watched her butt bounce. No puppy at all. Images of things canine rushed into his mind ... bitches in heat ... doggy style ... Megan looking over her shoulder at him on all fours, invitation in her eyes ...

With a groan he turned toward the barn. He'd have to relieve the stress before he worked with the horses. If not, his tension would seep into them and his trainer would yell at him for exciting the animals. He never entered the house any more. Mrs. Holliday ran that as a Bed and Breakfast, and she didn't need any help from him. He had a little bedroom in the barn, built just in case he needed to spend the night at the farm. He had originally thought it might be a good little love nest too. It had been a long time since he thought of it that way, though.

Now, suddenly, he imagined Megan ... on that bed.

He hurried now, eager to let the growing lump in his jeans out to play.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

"That's perfect!" squealed Raleigh, as her mother explained the agreement that had been made, earlier in the day. "Uncle Bob will be the perfect husband for you!"

"Pretend husband! And I don't know about perfect," sighed Megan, remembering how she'd felt in his arms.

"Besides, this way maybe you'll actually finally get some," said Raleigh, her face completely straight.

It took Megan a few long seconds to process what her ears had just heard. Then she had to convince herself it had actually been said. Only then did she react.

Except that response wasn't what the casual observer would have expected. Said observer would have expected Megan to yell at her daughter, or at least chastise her for such a bold and naughty suggestion. But Megan's reaction was defensive, rather than offensive. Like some men, to avoid crying in public, laugh during the sad parts of a movie, Megan's reaction to a concept so dangerously close to her own desires was to laugh as well. It released the tension inside her. Of course she felt compelled to explain ... or perhaps justify ... her laughter.

"That's the farthest possible thing from Bob's mind," she giggled, almost hysterically. Her nipples tingled, for some reason, and she almost reached to squeeze them through her blouse and bra.

Raleigh's reaction to that wasn't what that casual observer might have expected either.

"Don't be stupid, Mom," she said. "He's had the hots for you for years."

Megan did not want to have this conversation, mostly because she did not want to have to seriously entertain the concept of Bob and her in any relationship other than the safe, comfortable one they already had. She delivered what she thought was the closing salvo in the skirmish.

"That's silly, dear, and in any case, I would never consider ruining a perfectly good friendship that way. Now why don't we get supper ready? I'm starving."

Raleigh didn't respond verbally, but the look on her face was one that many a parent has seen before; that look that says "I do not believe my parental unit can be that stupid and uninformed about something so critically important." That's because she was quite aware of the way Uncle Bob looked at her mother, when her mother wasn't looking at him.

And she was also aware of how her mother looked at Uncle Bob, when he wasn't looking too.

That didn't present a huge problem, really. All she had to do was get them both to admit how they felt.

No ... the fly in the ointment, was that while she knew Uncle Bob made her mother's panties get damp ... he made Raleigh's panties get damp on a regular basis, too.

That was the problem.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Like many girls who grow up without a father, Raleigh had a bit less self-confidence around men than her peers did. While anybody you asked would pronounce her beautiful, popular and fun to be around, in her own mind that wasn't the case. Had Hamako been consulted, she would have responded "Confucius say, there are no mirrors in nature, where one can see one's own beauty."

If anything, she felt like an outsider most of the time. Only a couple of weeks from her eighteenth birthday, she could only think of seven or eight girls she felt comfortable being around, and many fewer boys. That's because at six feet, two inches tall, she towered above everybody except the other girls on the volleyball team. With the same flaming red hair as her mother, and full, firm breasts in her thirty-six inch bras, she looked a bit like an Amazon warrior princess. When she stared at you with her dark, blue eyes, you felt like there was some feline link in her DNA ... some connection to the big cats. Lush lips made the whole package delightful to look at ... from ten or fifteen feet away. And a lot of boys in the school had looked at her from distances like that.

But that didn't mean it was easy to ask her out. She'd been on dates, but was uncomfortable because the conversation always lagged. Boys didn't seem to want to talk about much. She knew what boys wanted. She'd heard all about what boys wanted from some of her friends who let boys do a lot of things on dates. And she knew she wanted ... something. The problem was that what that ... something ... was, wasn't clear in her mind, and she was the kind of girl who only did things when she was sure of why she was doing them, and what she wanted out of the deal. What she did not want was some boy trying to push her into something before she was fully ready for it.

Uncle Bob was the one man she felt completely comfortable around. Even when she was swimming in his pool and his eyes raked over her bikini-clad body, all she felt was warm and happy. When he appreciated her, it felt fabulous. And she'd had lots of fantasies about what was going through his mind while he looked at her. She had even teased him from time to time to stoke those fires. Like many young women her thoughts were only partially formed, misty places that hid something she just knew would be fantastic ... but which also had a scary feeling about it somehow. She was in no hurry to find out what that fog hid. In the meantime, she'd just imagine it.

In fact, that was the problem that affected the whole Tomlinson triangle, as it were. Relationships with the opposite gender are the most complicated relationships there are. And that probably goes for any living creature. Ask the males in the genus of spiders called Latrodectus, of which the Black Widow is a member. Now that relationship is complicated! There are very few organisms where the male goes willingly to his death after mating.

While human intra-gender relationships are always complicated, the reason for the complication is not. It's simple biology. There is a natural urge in the female to search for an acceptable male to fertilize her eggs, and a natural urge in the male to do the fertilizing. What makes it complicated is that the women are choosy, while for the most part, the men are not.

And if that wasn't enough, the culture in which these humans exist tries to regulate sexual behavior. There are rules about who can fertilize whose eggs ... complicated rules.

Take, for instance, interfamilial relationships. Family members are expected to be close, closer in fact than they are to others outside the bloodline. Family members are often willing to sacrifice their own lives if that sacrifice will save others of the family. But that closeness is not approved if it includes the afore-mentioned fertilization behavior; even if both parties are all for it.

And if that isn't complicated enough, then there is the issue of definitions. In a situation like this one, Bob and Megan had no blood relationship, only a legal one. And maybe not even that, considering Bob's brother was dead. Neither his brother's nor his DNA was part of her body. So he was her "uncle" only in terms of a cultural custom, by which relatives of someone you married became your relatives, though only in a legalistic sense.

There are those who might take issue with this argument, by distilling it down to "No blood ... no foul." But that ignores the social and cultural conventions.

The point is that Raleigh thought of Bob as her uncle. And Megan thought of him as her brother-in-law. Bob thought of them as blood family too.

And social convention says one doesn't lust after or have sex with her uncle ... or her brother-in-law. Even if they both want to.

It's complicated, for most people. And that's why in these people, as they contemplated bringing Bob into the house, to be in close, intimate contact with the two women, it generated some passionate, nervous energy.

It didn't matter that it was make believe. The fact it was temporary wasn't important.

What mattered was that the man both women loved, and who loved them, would soon be ... available ... in a new and disturbing way.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Bob moved in a week before Mr. Nakimura was due to arrive. They had argued about that, Megan suggesting he wait until two days before their arrival, while he wanted to come earlier than that. He said it was necessary for him to get used to the house and his role. He did not know, for example, where the linen closet was. Any husband would know things like that and he wanted to be ready for anything. That caused some consternation for two reasons.

First off, Megan, quite frankly, didn't want him walking around with bulging briefs any longer than necessary. She kept having dreams about that and it was beginning to make her anxious.

Second, her plan had always been for him to sleep in the spare bedroom. The problem with that was that Hamako's classes had ended for the summer and she was required to vacate the dorm. In the past, she had gone to stay with her roommate in South Carolina for the summer. They were best friends and Hamako was like another daughter in the family. But her presence was required to complete the negotiations, so she had to stay with Megan as well.

And she had already moved into the spare bedroom.

That meant Bob had to either sleep on the couch, or in a bedroom with one of the women.

"He can sleep with me," offered Hamako, her Asian features as inscrutable as the stereotype.

"What?" Megan gasped, unprepared for that "solution" to appear.

"In my room," said Hamako, demurely. "I don't mind." She glanced sideways at Bob, who was looking at her with interest.

"I didn't know you felt that way about me, Hamako," he said, half teasing.

"You never asked ... did you," she pointed out.

"Down girl," said Raleigh, who had hung around all morning, waiting for Uncle Bob to show up. "He's taken."

"Only for pretend," said Hamako, innocently.

"That will be enough of that!" snapped Megan, frowning. "He's old enough to be your father!"

"But he's not my father," said the girl.

"He will be sleeping with me!" growled Megan. She blinked and looked embarrassed. "I mean in my room!"

"That's fine," said Hamako. "But if he snores or something ..."

There was a long pause as Megan's scowl deepened. Finally Hamako laughed.

"You people are so serious about everything. I was only joking." She finally grinned. Then she turned to Bob. "Though you are cute, for a white guy."

He bowed formally. "I'll attempt to snore. Believe me."

The Japanese girl giggled and covered her mouth.

"Enough levity," said Megan. "We have plans to make, and speeches to rehearse. You girls fix us something to eat while I help Bob get his things situated."

The two girls scurried off, heads together, while Megan followed Bob out to this truck to start carrying boxes inside. They had to salt her house with his belongings, so that a casual visitor would believe he lived there.

Chapter Two

They were standing in Megan's bedroom. She had removed some of her clothes from the dresser to make room for some of his, and crammed hers into the boxes he emptied. They were currently contemplating the bed.

"I can sleep on the floor," said Bob. "It will be like camping."

Because of how she was feeling, Megan's response was both truthful and not well thought out. Her response was curt and businesslike.

"Good."

"Good," he said too, a little miffed that she was so eager for him to be on the floor. "Now, what else?"

"I don't know," she said, feeling helpless. "You already know where everything is in the house, don't you? Now, I guess we just wait."

"I'll go check on the horses, then," he said.

"I don't think it's a good idea for him to know about the ranch," said Megan. She didn't have to explain who "him" was. "If he finds out about that, he'll think we're rich enough to do this by ourselves."

"We are rich enough to do this by ourselves," said Bob.

"You're rich enough, not me," she said, frowning. "We've been over this before, Bob!"

"I know, and I still think you're being ... ah ... unwise, for not letting me help you." He refrained from calling her an idiot.

"And what happens if you loan me the money and I can't pay it back some day?" she asked, folding her arms under her breasts.

He examined the expanse of cloth above her arms, not caring, suddenly, whether she knew where he was looking or not.

"I'm sure I could think of some way you could pay me back." He realized how serious he was, and didn't want her to get mad at him for that, so he forced a grin, as if he had just been kidding.

The problem was that made her even more antsy as images of him, naked, flowed through her mind. For some reason, though, in all those images, all he was wearing were cowboy boots. And that was what saved her, because that was funny. She let the tension out by laughing.

Now it was Bob who frowned. "It wasn't that funny," he said.

She reached to put her hands on his upper arms, turning him toward the door.

"Go play with your ponies," she said. "Just don't bring a bunch of horse poop back when you're finished." She stopped, thinking suddenly about the fact that Bob usually drove a restored 1965 Shelby Cobra. It looked as expensive as it was. "Hey, what are you going to drive while he's here?"

"I've got my pickup," said Bob. He was referring to a 78 Chevy, which was mostly puke green, with one black door and one red fender. It ran like a top, and he didn't care what it looked like. It was, "the ranch truck."

"We can be a one-car family," said Megan.

"No way I'm being held captive like that," said Bob. "I'll find something. I'll stop by a dealership on the way home."

"You can't just go buy a car, simply because you're doing this," she complained.

"Why not? I can always sell it when this is all over."

"Men!" she said, darkly, and stomped past him to leave the bedroom.

Bob followed and wandered around the house, looking at things. He'd been there lots of times, of course, but never under these kind of circumstances. He had no idea what it was going to be like, but he wanted to be prepared. He found Raleigh in the den, leaned toward the screen of their computer.

"Hey," he said. "What kind of car would you like to have?"

"What?" She turned to face him. "What are you talking about?"

"Your mom says I can't drive the Cobra while I'm here and she won't let me drive the ranch truck either. So I'm going to go buy something. You've got a birthday coming up, right?"

"You're kidding!" she gasped. "Really? You'd buy me a car?"

"No, I'd buy me a car, and then give it to you when I don't need it anymore." He smiled. "But if it just happened to be the kind you'd want, so much the better."

"A lemon yellow five liter Mustang GT!" she said immediately.

"I was thinking used," he said, smiling.

"Okay, an older one, but in good shape," she said.

"Your mother would kill me," he said.

"Yes, but I'd love you forever and ever," she said, jumping up and running to hug him.

It was a good hug ... a much better hug than she intended at first, wherein she rubbed her body against him in a most passionate way.

"Careful, girl," he said into her hair. "It's just a car."

"Sorry," she said, blushing and jumping away from him. "I just didn't think we'd be able to afford something for me for a long time."

"Maybe you should go with me to help pick something out," he said.

"Awesome!" she yelled, and dashed out of the room.

He went to the computer to turn it off, since she had abandoned it in her rush, but as he reached for the mouse, he looked at the screen, which was full of text. The words "hot, dripping pussy" leapt out at him, hitting him like a ball bat between the eyes, and he peered more closely at the screen.

It was a story of some kind. He used the mouse to move things around, and found the title at the top: Fiddling Around With Uncle Bob, by Lubrican.

"No! You can't read that!" yelled Raleigh, as she dashed back into the room. She pushed him away from the computer desk. "That's private." Her fingers flashed and the screen went blue as she dumped the file.

But Bob had seen the title, which might be the file name as well. And he was going to be living here for the next few days. He planned on doing a little exploring, to see just what Raleigh was reading. She was a big girl, and almost eighteen, so he wasn't worried about her. But he was curious. Guys rarely found out what a girl was actually thinking or fantasizing about, and he wasn't about to miss a chance, especially with this girl.

"I'm ready to go," she said, nervously, standing back up.

He noticed that she wasn't wearing a bra under her shirt. It was made obvious by the nipples straining to poke holes in it. He looked away, sighing. Living with these two women was going to be interesting. No doubt about that.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Her dream of owning a Mustang wasn't as ingrained as she had let on. In fact, she saw at least five cars, all of which produced the squeal, "That one! Ohhh I love that one!" In the end, she chose a five year old Mini Cooper, which amazed Bob, though he had to admit it was probably the best choice from the vantage point of economics. It was a fifteen thousand and change, which was inexpensive, considering it only had 44,000 miles on it, and was also cheap to insure and operate.

When he agreed, Raleigh jumped up and down. Her un-fettered breasts bobbed in her blouse, which drew the attention of both the salesman and Bob. But only Bob got a hug.

Raleigh had hugged him before, many times in fact. But this hug held a passion in it that was different from her usual happy, glad-to-see-you hug. That passion caused the hug to be a bit more personal, whether she intended it to be or not. She plastered her body to his, for example, instead of hugging only with her upper body, as most hugs are delivered. And because there was full body contact, the hug felt different to them both, and fanned the flames of that passion higher. She had also jumped upwards a bit, as she threw her arms around his neck, and his instinct was to catch her weight. The easiest, most natural way to do that was for his big hands to cup her tight, round bottom.

Of course that felt different to both of them. Her initial, "Ohhh thank you so much, Uncle Bob!" was replaced by her wide-eyed stare into his eyes, their noses almost touching.

Then, so suddenly that neither of them was prepared for it, their lips were pressed warmly and urgently against each other.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

"Dude!" sighed the salesman, who was only four or five years older than Raleigh.

That broke through into Bob's consciousness, and he suddenly realized what had happened. He let go of her ass, which let her body sag down enough to pull her lips from his.

"You're welcome," he said, grinning, trying to make it look less like the clearly incestuous thing it was. The salesman was well aware that she was his niece.

Raleigh had also been astonished by the kiss, and delighted in a way that made her pussy suddenly damp. But she shoved all those amazing, interesting thoughts aside. She, too, was aware that the salesman was watching. But there wasn't anything she could say. Instead, she just tried to get out of the situation.

"Can I drive it home?"

The salesman, who was surveying her with a clearly lusty look, now, said, "I have to arrange for financing."

Bob said "How about I just write you a check."

The man looked surprised. They had come in the ranch truck. "I'll have to wait until it clears."

"Never mind," said Bob. "Come on, Raleigh. We've got things to do."

"But I like that one. I thought you said I could have it!" she moaned.

"Come with me, girl!" he ordered, his voice suddenly hard.

She bowed her head. She couldn't have told anyone why. His voice commanded, and she obeyed.

"Now let's not be hasty," said the salesman.

"See you," said Bob, and he pulled Raleigh out of the store.

"Why'd you do that?" she complained, once they were in the car.

"He pissed me off," said Bob.

"But we spent two hours looking at cars. I liked that one!"

"Watch and learn, sweet thing," he said.

He went to the bank and Raleigh went in with him. She watched him make a withdrawal, though she couldn't hear the conversation. A man in a suit came from somewhere talked to him about it, but only for a half a minute. The money was given to him in a fat envelope, and he did not count it. He took her back to the truck without any explanation.

Then they drove back to the dealership, where the same salesman approached them, a knowing smirk on his face.

"Decided to do the smart thing?" he suggested.

Bob opened the envelope and took out a wad of cash that made Raleigh's eyes pop.

“I've got $14,500.00 in my hand. That's what I'm offering for the car. If you don't want to make the sale, we'll take our cash elsewhere."

"But we agreed on fifteen-five!" complained the salesman.

"That was before you suggested I might write you a bad check," said Bob.

"I can't take a thousand dollars off that car!" shouted the salesman. "The owner would kill me!"

"So you're saying no sale," said Bob.

The man eyed the money hungrily.

"I have to call the owner," he said.

"Sorry. We're hungry. Too bad," said Bob. "Come on Raleigh. They don't want our money."

They hadn't gotten ten feet before the salesman stopped them. Bob arranged for the insurance while the salesman filled out the paperwork for the sale.

Twenty-seven minutes later Raleigh drove off in her new car.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

They didn't have a chance to talk about what had happened. Megan thought the car was extravagant and grumbled about that until Bob just left to go out to the ranch. He told Raleigh to pick him up in time to get back for supper and she nodded. He couldn't gauge whether she was upset about the kiss or not.

When she did pick him up, he didn't know what to say. It turned out she broached the subject first.

"You know that hug and kiss we had at the car place?"

He nodded and started to apologize.

"Be sure to do that to Mom when you're pretending to be her husband. It will make her crazy."

His jaw dropped. She was so calm about it all! He'd been worried that he'd ruined everything, but it was obvious she wasn't traumatized by what had happened.

"Your mom would kill me if I did that."

"I don't think so," she said. "She's always thought the only better man in the world than you was Daddy."

"I don't know about that," he said, skeptically.

"Well, I do."

"She's already mad at me for buying the car."

"That's just because she thinks she's supposed to be," said Raleigh.

"So that kiss didn't scare you?"

"Me? Scared of you? In what universe?" She laughed.

"I'm glad," he said.

"I wouldn't even mind if it happened again," she said, her voice flippant.

He glanced at her. "That would be trouble."

"Some trouble is a lot of fun." She grinned.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Megan seemed to be over her huff at supper. Hamako ignored Bob, which caused him to sit and contemplate what he was involved in. The Japanese girl had teased him before and he was pretty sure she'd do more than just tease ... if he asked her to. But Raleigh was doing the same thing. And Megan wouldn't like it if he did anything about either girl.

The question was ... why? Technically, both girls were old enough to make their own decisions and seek out whatever attention from men they wanted to. Granted, Raleigh was his niece, but it was in name only. Sam wasn't her biological father.

So why was Megan obvious about not liking Hamako's advances toward him - even if they were only in fun?

The obvious reason he could think of , especially considering what Raleigh had said, was that she had feelings for him herself.

But she'd never shown that side of herself to him before. She'd been friendly, loving even, but he always thought it was just because of their common relationship with Sam. Now, however, there was suddenly tension between them.

That tension could be felt that night when Megan said she was tired and was going to bed. Bob, who happened to be playing a board game with Hamako and Raleigh, said he'd try not to wake her up when he came to bed. The air mattress was on the other side of the bed from the doorway, but he felt like he could feel his way in the dark.

An hour later, when he closed the door softly behind him, though, her voice came softly from the bed.

"I'm still awake."

"I thought you were tired."

"I am," she said, crossly. She turned on her reading light. She was wearing a plain, white, cotton nightgown. It made her look dowdy, but he didn't smile.

"Want me to tell you a bedtime story?" he quipped.

"This is insane, Bob," she said. "How did we ever get involved in this crazy scheme?"

"It's not a crazy scheme." He frowned. "Okay, it is a crazy scheme, but only because you have to lie about it to this guy. It's not crazy that I play the part. We know each other. We can pull this off better than you could with anybody else. Tell me I'm wrong."

He saw the emotion in her eyes then, and suddenly knew Raleigh had been telling the truth. There was emotion much more deep than pure friendship in her eyes. And now she was worried that she'd embarrass herself or something. He held up a finger.

"I need to tell you something," he said.

"What?" She still looked nervous.

"When Sam brought you home ... I was a little jealous of him."

She blinked. "What?" Her voice had risen almost an octave.

"I miss him. And I know you do too. But it's always been really easy to be around you, because I liked you then and I like you now. There's nothing wrong with liking each other."

Now her eyes took on a trapped look, darting to the sides and then back to him.

"What are you talking about?"

"I'm just saying that it doesn't need to be weird between us. I mean while we're pretending to be married. I'm saying that if I need to do something ... like kiss you, or something ... to make this look real, then that's not going to bother me at all."

He stopped. She just stared at him, her eyes big and round. Finally he went on.

"I think the best thing for us to do is just be ourselves and talk things out. If you're worried about something, then just tell me. We can talk about anything. I know we can. So there doesn't have to be any tension between us. Okay?"

She blinked. He let her think. He contemplated leaving and sleeping on the couch after all, but stayed. This needed to be settled, one way or another.

"How come you never got married?" she asked suddenly.

"I think you already know the answer to that," he said in response.

"What do you mean? How could I possibly know that?"

"How come you never got re-married?" he asked back. When she didn't answer, he did it for her. "Because you never met anybody who made you want to."

"So you haven't met any women who made you think about that?" she said, her voice neutral.

"I never met any women I felt like it was appropriate to explore it with," he said, his voice also neutral.

"If I let you sleep in the bed with me ... would you try anything?" she asked.

He thought that was an interesting question.

"If I did ... would you let me?"

Suddenly the front of her nightgown had two points on it, where the tips of her breasts were.

"Why do you think I'm making you sleep on the floor?" she asked.

"Propriety's sake?"

"Who would know? Hamako? Raleigh? That's the other reason you're in here, mister. Both of them would probably try to sneak into bed with you, otherwise."

"You know how to make a guy feel good," he said, smiling.

"And you know how to make a woman lose her mind," she snapped.

"Okay," he said. "So I sense that you're fighting this attraction you have to me. And that's fine. I don't mind sleeping on the floor. It's only for a few nights. You can make it through that. I'll help."

Looking angry, she turned the light back off. He lay down on the air mattress.

It took some time, but eventually he heard the even rhythm of her breathing that told him she was asleep.

Only then did he let himself drift off too.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

In the few remaining days left before Mr. Nakimura arrived, Megan was frantic, going over her invention again and again. It worked fine, but she needed something to do, so Bob left her alone. Hamako had nothing to do until her countryman got here either, and she asked about the horses and ranch, so he offered to take her and give her the grand tour. When he said she could ride a horse, she got all excited. Raleigh immediately said she wanted to go too.

Once there, it became obvious, at least to Bob, that Raleigh was jealous of Hamako. It was displayed in the superior attitude she displayed when she showed off her knowledge about the horses, and how to saddle them and on and on. Hamako was scared, at first, but once she got up on Wendy, the mare Bob had chosen for her, she beamed. Bob only walked the horses, which, of course, Raleigh wasn't interested in. She was on Star, a gelding, who was feisty. They seemed to like each other, and both liked to run. So he let them, which gave him a chance to talk to Hamako.

"So, I thought Japanese girls were all self-effacing and shy. Where did you learn to flirt?"

She giggled. "There is a boy named Jonathan. He teased me when I first came here. It was awful, because I was embarrassed all the time. But finally I understood he was just teasing, and then it was fun. His girlfriend helped me learn now to tease him back ... flirt with him. She even had him kiss me once. But my parents would have a heart attack if I had a white boyfriend."

"That's too bad," I said. "I bet you're breaking a lot of young men's hearts."

"Now you are flirting with me," she said. She looked sideways at him. Her coy attitude made his penis twitch.

"Are you complaining?"

"Not at all. I love to flirt. But Raleigh doesn't like it when I flirt with you. She wants you and her mother to fall in love."

"You think so?"

"I know them both pretty well. Raleigh has a ... how do you say ... a crush?"

I nodded.

"She has a crush on you herself, but she has told me she hopes this pretending causes things to happen between you and Mrs. Tomlinson.”

"Really!"

She looked embarrassed. "I don't think I was supposed to tell you that."

"It's all right."

"I like Mrs. Tomlinson, and I like Raleigh. I do not want there to be stiffness between us."

He contemplated the "stiffness" he was thinking about at the moment, and smiled.

"Why are you smiling?" she asked.

He ignored the question.

"So, if you can't have a white boyfriend, what do you do? Are there many Asian men around here?"

"Actually, there are," she said. "But I didn't come to America to find a Japanese boyfriend. I can have that at home."

"So you have some little white boy toys on the side, and your parents are none the wiser?" He smiled, thinking he'd made a joke.

"Not yet," she said. "I'm afraid if I lose my virginity, my mother will know, somehow."

Again, his jaw dropped. He would never have believed a Japanese girl would say something like that. Especially to a man, and her elder to boot!

Raleigh and Star came thundering back, the girl riding easily, her hair flying and her breasts bouncing. A wide grin split her face.

"She has it so bad for you," said Hamako, giggling.

"I thought she wanted things to happen between me and Megan," he said.

"Oh, she does," said the interpreter. "But she wants things to happen to her too. She's also a virgin, you know. We're both curious about what it will be like."

This time Bob was speechless, staring at the Japanese girl who had so shattered the stereotypes in his mind about Japanese girls. And, before he could respond in any way, Raleigh arrived, the horse skidding to a stop, grass and dirt flying.

"I thought we came here to ride!" she panted, her cheeks pink and her breasts heaving. “You two can talk any time. What are you talking about anyway?"

"Brad Pitt," said Hamako, smoothly. "We both think he's hot."

Bob went into a coughing fit, trying to hide his grin.

"What?" Raleigh looked confused.

"So how do you make a horse go fast like that?" asked Hamako. "Like this?"

Bob saw instantly that she'd seen television shows, because her feet, in the stirrups, went away from the horse and began to swing back inwards ... much too hard. He drew breath to yell, but it was too late. Even Wendy, as sedate as she was, reacted to both heels slamming into her flanks. Her front feet came off the ground a good foot and a half, and she leapt forward. Hamako, not ready for the movement, leaned backwards dangerously, her arms flailing. She lost the reins in the process, and then fell forward as her mount took off. Bob saw her grab the saddle horn and hoped that she could hold on as his own heels communicated urgency to his animal.

He caught up with her within fifteen seconds, which is seven seconds longer than a rodeo rider has to stay on a bucking bronco. What saved her was that her horse wasn't bucking. It was just running flat out. Rather than try to stop Wendy, he simply reached for the terrified girl and, wrapping an arm around her waist, pulled her bodily over and across his lap. In the process, he got a handful of modest, Japanese breast, firmly encased in a sturdy bra. Her movement, and his efforts to keep control of her, managed to get her breast thoroughly mauled before he got his horse slowed and could drop her onto the ground.

She stood, shocked, looking up at him. Her right hand came up to cover where his hand had been, but it was an unconscious move. Her eyes were wide.

"Wow!" she gasped.

Bob saw that Raleigh was chasing down Wendy, who had already slowed, when she lost her rider. He saw her lean to grab the reins, and wheel the horse, bringing it back.

"Tell her what you want gently," said Bob, staring down at Hamako.

"Oh," she said. She looked down and saw that her hand was covering her breast. She jerked it away.

"You have to get back on her," said Bob. "If you don't, you'll be afraid of horses forever."

Hamako's reaction to that was to take hold of the headstall on either side of Wendy's face and scold her - gently - for "scaring the pee out of me." Then, with some difficulty, she mounted again and sat, looking from Bob to Raleigh.

"Confucius say, our greatest glory is not in never falling, but in getting up every time we do. Still, maybe running can wait until my second lesson," she said.

Then, to Bob's astonishment, she looked at Raleigh. "You have to have him snatch you off a horse someday. You'll love it."

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

The rest of the day was uneventful, by comparison, but as Bob watched the two girls ride, he couldn't get thoughts of Lady Godiva out of his mind. He finally gave up and enjoyed the fantasy, figuring that what the girls didn't know couldn't hurt them.

The problem was that when they got back to Megan's house, his mind was still primed for sex, and Megan looked even better to him than the girls did.

"Do I really need to stay here tonight?" he asked.

Megan's stare was flat, almost hostile.

"Are you with me on this or not, Bob?" she asked, her voice in perfect concert with her stare.

"Of course I am," he said. "It's just that I don't see the need to make things harder than they already are."

He was thinking that hadn't come out quite right when he saw her face tighten even further.

"I'm sorry I'm so difficult to live with," she said, acid in her voice.

He would never quite be able to articulate why he did what he did next. It would be a good bet that he didn't understand it himself. But Raleigh's comment about kissing Megan popped into his head, and that was clearly the impetus for his action.

It took him only two long strides to reach her. He saw her eyes open wide in alarm as he bore down on her. But then his arms were around her and her face was pulled to him. His lips almost bruised hers and, for just a few seconds, both of them looked into each other's eyes in un-focused wonder at what was happening. Then, as if there was a phantom director for this mini-movie scene, their eyes closed, and the kiss softened. His hands pressed her to him with strength that took her breath away. Her own hands fluttered, but then came to rest, gently, on his waist.

It was when he felt his tongue slipping into her mouth that he realized what he was doing, and pulled back, watching her eyes open again. There was a mixture of wonder, surprise, and maybe a tinge of fear in her gaze.

"Yes ... it is difficult living with you," he panted. "But some difficult things are still worth doing."

Something whispered drew their attention, and their heads swiveled to see both girls staring at them. Hamako was flushed, while Raleigh was pale, her mouth open.

"Well ... you told me to!" said Bob, looking at Raleigh.

What could have turned out to be very awkward ended up being humorous when Raleigh breathed, "I changed my mind!" and then had to explain that she'd never seen anybody kissing her mother at all, much less like she had just been kissed. She had, of course, seen such kisses in countless movies, but it was completely different when it was her mother being kissed.

Hamako thought the whole episode was hilarious, and she started teasing Raleigh.

"You so have a crush on him!"

Raleigh didn't have a chance to respond to that before her mother said, "Who told you to do that?" to Bob, her hands still on his waist.

Bob, not wanting to get into that, said smoothly, "They thought a little practice might be in order, in case something of the sort is needed when Mr. What's-his-name is here."

"Nakimura," said Megan, her voice firming. "And I don't think that will be necessary while he's here. I don't think the Japanese are big into public displays of affection." She glared at her translator, and, as if she'd just discovered where her hands were, pulled them away from Bob's waist. She stepped back. Her cheeks were flushed.

"Let's not fight again ... honey," said Bob. "Not in front of the children." He grinned, trying to lighten the mood.

Megan stared at him for a long half minute. He let her. At least she wasn't snarling at him anymore. He began to think about the kiss and realized it had produced evidence of his arousal. He wondered if she'd felt it pressing against her as their loins touched during that kiss. Almost as if she could read his mind, she glanced down at his groin, but her eyes bounced away almost instantly.

"I agree," she said, her voice calm. "Not in front of the children.”

The rest of the evening was without incident. Again, he stayed up after Megan went to bed.

This time, when he crept into her bedroom, her breathing was slow and steady, signaling she was already asleep. With a sigh, he lay on his air mattress. He wanted to masturbate, thinking of the three women under the same roof he was under. But he was sure it would make too much noise.

And the last thing he needed was Megan waking to catch him doing that.

Chapter Three

Suddenly the waiting was over. There was no longer time to be nervous. Raleigh had originally intended to stay home when the others went to pick up the Japanese industrialist at the airport, but at the last minute she decided to tag along.

There is an old saying in the military: "No battle plan survives contact with the enemy." Others might refer to Murphy's Law. In any case, things went off track rapidly.

Hamako had done her homework and recognized Hiroto Nakimura as soon as he appeared among the disembarking passengers. She held up the sign with his name on it in Japanese characters. His smile told her she had guessed correctly that his sense of tradition would appreciate his native language being used.

But what they were not prepared for was the woman and young man who followed him off the plane, both of whom were obviously also Japanese.

Bob, Megan and Raleigh watched as Hamako bowed low, her upper body stiff and her face showing no emotion. Rapid words and phrases in Japanese were exchanged and there was much bowing between the four countrymen. Then Hamako turned and addressed Bob, also bowing to him.

"Mister Tomlinson, may I introduce Hiroto Nakimura, and his nephew Akio Nakimura." Her hand swept grandly toward the two males. "Also Mrs. Nakimura has accompanied her husband on this trip," she added, as though it was of little, if any importance.

The Tomlinsons bowed. There was unspoken tension, however, primarily because that of the three visitors, Akio was the tallest at five feet seven inches. All three of the Americans almost literally towered over their guests. On top of that, both Japanese men's eyes were right at the height of Megan and Raleigh's breasts. Megan wore a 38D bra. Raleigh wore a 36C. Consequently, there were what amounted to mountains of breast flesh for the men to stare at, and they did so, looking somewhat in awe.

They might have been able to cram three people into the car, but once they saw the luggage it became obvious there was a serious problem. At the point where the pile of bags already pulled off the belt totaled fourteen, and it became obvious there were more, Bob pulled Raleigh to his side and handed her his credit card.

"Go rent us an SUV," he said, his voice low. "A big one. Get a Caddy if they have one."

"Got it," she said, looking excited.

Bob turned back to see yet another suitcase pulled off the belt by the young man. Apparently Hiroto Nakimura liked to travel in style.

Two redcaps with carts materialized out of nowhere, no doubt smelling a dilly of a tip, and began to load the baggage onto their carts without direction. Again, apparently by magic, they looked to Bob, instead of the foreign family, waiting for him to tell them where they were going.

By the time they got everyone but Raleigh into the Escalade, and all the luggage split between the back of the Caddy and the car they had come to the airport in, Bob had dropped over three hundred dollars in cash and credit, but all he did was smile and point out to Hiroto all the luxury features of the rental car. The man actually spoke English pretty well, but Hamako hovered at his side, always ready to be of service.

His wife and nephew took their seats in the back of the Escalade and sat, mute. It wasn't until Bob got in the driver's seat that he realized Megan hadn't said a word since Hamako had made the introductions. He looked around and found her standing beside one of the rear doors. She didn't look happy.

Bob opened the door for Mr. Nakimura and got him seated. Then he closed the door and went to Megan.

"Everything's fine," he said.

"Sure it is," she whispered sarcastically.

"Do I need to kiss you again?" he threatened.

She backed up. "No!"

"Then get in the car, woman, and let's get these people to their hotel."

"This isn't going to work," she said, her face falling suddenly.

"Nonsense," he said. "It's working already."

But it wasn't working very well.

With Bob and Hiroto in the front, Hamako had to sit in the second seat. Megan, deciding that the women would get to know each other, invited Mrs. Nakimura into the third row of seats. It was at that point that it was determined that Sinho Nakimura spoke almost no English, and was, for all intents and purposes, terrified. That meant that Hamako had to split her attention between the front and back of the car. Meanwhile, Akio, who turned out to be nineteen years old sat next to Hamako looking amused, watching her lean forwards, and then backwards.

There wasn't anyone to watch his face, but had they done so, they'd have seen extreme interest displayed there, concerning the translator in the car and the Amazon woman she was translating for.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

 

Hiroto wanted to talk baseball. Luckily, Bob was a Mets fan so he could speak that language. That was good, because Hamako was needed to help Megan try to get Sinho talking, something she wasn't used to doing, especially with strangers. And so the Japanese woman resisted, trying to give monosyllabic answers to Megan's questions. Finally, Akio turned to face his aunt, and rattled off some Japanese that was heated, yet muted at the same time. It almost sounded like the boy didn't want his uncle to hear what he was saying. Hamako nodded, and spoke as well. The woman licked her lips and spoke rapidly, barely above a whisper. Akio looked at Megan.

"You must forgive my aunt, Mrs. Tomelson."

"Tom-lin-son," Hamako corrected immediately. "Meh-gan Tom-lin-son."

"As if I could call her by her given name!" he snapped. He started to say something else, but stopped, and looked back at Megan. "My aunt is very traditional." He glanced at Hamako. "Unlike Miss Fukuji, here. In Japan, the only time a traditional woman chats is when there are no men present. I have instructed her that while she is in America she must adopt American ways, and that this includes idle banter with other women."

"I see," said Megan, trying to wrap her mind around the idea that a nephew could "instruct" his older aunt on how to behave. She was even more mystified when Sinho reached out and stroked Akio's hand, saying something that made Hamako look away for a few seconds. Then the woman turned to Megan.

"I try talk you ... okay?"

"I'd like that," said Megan, smiling.

For the next half hour, Hamako's attention was pulled different ways as she translated mostly for the women in the back, and sometimes for the men in the front.

Meanwhile Akio sat and examined all three of the new and interesting women, his eyes sparkling.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

 

All the Tomlinsons felt exhausted by the time the Asians were installed in their hotel, and the American family could finally go home. Bob decided to just keep the Escalade. They'd need a big vehicle to ferry people around and it was only for three days. So he drove it home, followed by the family car, which had the three women in it.

What Bob did not hear might have interested him. It certainly riveted Megan and Raleigh.

"I was so surprised that Akio would just tell his aunt how to act," Megan mentioned.

"Things are very different in Japan," said Hamako. "Culturally, I mean."

"Of course," said Megan. "But I thought every culture required young people to defer to their elders, at least in public."

"That's true," said Hamako. "But there is a different dynamic going on here."

"That's obvious," said Megan.

"I mean really different," said Hamako, her voice sounding strained.

"Well spit it out, whatever is on your mind," said Megan. "I need to know everything, so that this all goes as well as possible."

"You must understand that what I'm going to tell you is just a guess," said Hamako.

"Okay, it's a guess," said Megan. "I still need to know."

"I'm basing it on the things they said, and the way they touched each other," said the girl.

"What do you mean?"

"Mrs. Nakimura hasn't had any children. I have to assume that's because she can't. In Japan, having a son is very important, especially to a man like Hiroto Nakimura. I do not know this for certain, but I suspect Akio has a brother, or brothers ... older brothers. And he has been ... loaned out ... if you will, to his uncle. This would have been done when he was seven or eight. Ten at the latest. There wouldn't be anything formal but he is sort of adopted, I imagine. And she is treating him as if he is her son, and he is treating her as if she is his mother."