Takin' it to the Banks

Chapter 5

	Six forty five came very early to someone who had staggered to bed
just before two.  Too early; it took fifteen minutes for the regularly
increasing volume of the alarm clock to bring Marion fully to her senses.
Lurching up, her soaked crotch reminded her of the previous evening's
activity, but she didn't have time to deal with it - Twyla was going to be
late!  She snatched at a tissue, and dabbed at herself on the way to her
daughter's room.  Usually, she'd be wearing panties, but ten minutes' search
had failed to surface where she'd flung them at Aaron's.  Rushing into her
daughter's room, she shook her shoulder, "Twy, get up!  You're late!  It's
seven already!"

	"Mmph!  What happened?" Twyla asked, blearily, sitting up.

	"I overslept," Marion admitted, "Guess I'm not the nite owl you
are..."

	Twyla focused instantly.  "So, Mother," she teased, "when DID you get
home?  I'll not ask how it went..."

	"About two," Marion related.  "Why not?"

	Twyla was grinning from ear to ear.  "Well, aside from the fact that
you're walking funny and could probably glow in the dark, there's that stuff
running down your leg..."

	"Oh!"  The tissue, which Marion had been secreting in her left hand,
came out, and Marion began an embarrassing and awkward attempt to stop drips
under her nightie while Twyla giggled.  Climbing out of bed and going to her
dresser, Twyla blandly announced, "I recognize the problem; I get it quite a
bit, lately."

	"Ummm, yeah."  Marion, thoroughly embarrassed, got out of there.  In
the bathroom, she finally settled upon a tampon as a cleanup device, (Boy,
talk about tender!  She'd been seriously stretched and rubbed on!), and made
for the kitchen to make breakfast for herself and her daughter.

	Twyla came in and watched her mother move about for a moment,
grinning.  "Sore?"

	"Um, yeah.  It's been a while." Marion admitted.

	"Good sore?"

	"Yeah," Marion sighed, "Very."

	"Wanna talk about it?"

	"Yeah, but not now - there's not enough time.  Later?  I've got some
thinking to do, anyway..."  Marion's pensive expression puzzled Twyla, but she
was right; there was no time.  She dropped it.

	 As it was, Twyla held Mickey up for five minutes when he arrived,
messing with makeup.  Mickey was heard to whine, "C'mon, Twy, do it in the
car!  I don't want you looking THAT good, anyway - I can't handle the
competition!"

	Marion showered and cleaned up for work, pensive.  'Now what?' was the
question foremost in her mind.  Would Aaron ignore her?  If he did, would it
be because he was done with her, or because they were at work?  What if he
didn't?  Where could they have any peace?  And what did SHE want him to do?
That was unclear; last night had been sweet, but...  This control thing - she
just didn't know about it...

	Aaron waited until eleven thirty, during Marion's first pass through
the kitchenettes, and caught her in a semi-enclosed one off the next radial
hallway.  Making work out of his tea preparations, he leaned across,
whispered, "When can I see you again?"

	Marion glanced around, but they were alone.  "I don't know," she
replied, "Last night was...  unexpected.  And taxing.  I'm sore..."

	Aaron glanced around nervously, but his hand settled familiarly on her
hip.  "You're okay?"

	"Uh huh.  But..."  She paused, "I'm still... not sure..."

	Well, he'd rolled the dice...  "I don't think YOU think I'm asking
that much..."

	Her glance flicked up.  "No, but that's not all there is to it, is
it?"

	"There are...  implications," he replied, hesitating, "A whole range
of them.  I can't tell you..."  Someone entered the room, and the conversation
ended abruptly.  Aaron left, filled with disquiet.  Had he gone too far?  He
didn't THINK so...

	Marion completed her morning chores on automatic, distracted.  What on
Earth was she going to do?  Aaron was...  sweet.  Compared to Ed, he was the
White Knight!  But these weird ideas...  Marion had a tough time thinking of
herself as a slut, even as a matter of untapped potential.  Sure, she liked
her sex, and Aaron - well, Aaron had rocked her world!  But did that make her
a slut?

	On the other hand, there was Aaron's answer.  She'd stood there in
that Men's Room, staring at him and that cock, and if his eyes had so much as
flickered, her knees would have hit the tile.  Maybe he should have done it;
maybe, if he had, she wouldn't be capable of questioning his stance on the
matter.  Maybe she wished he had...

	Marion shivered, something that had nothing to do with the
temperature, and hurried to her car.  Was this a onesie?  In the face of
Aaron's continued interest, did she possess the strength to keep it that way?
Why on Earth would she WANT to?

	Aaron, watching her leave from the third floor windows, had similar
dark thoughts.  What if he'd pushed her too hard?  Would her instinctive fears
drive her away, despite the fact that she'd obviously enjoyed their time
together?  And could he afford to let that happen?

	Arriving home, Marion handled domestic preparations for lunch and a
little laundry, and lay down for a short nap until Twyla's arrival at two-
thirty.  Sleep brought uneasy dreams, an odd mix of fear and pleasure.  A hand
that touched her gently, then suddenly stung.  And the results were the same;
she moved not a muscle, but felt joy...  The alarm woke her, and she washed
her face, but the frown lines didn't wash away.

	Twyla arrived home, Mickey in tow, but one look at her mother's face
and she shooed him out promising him the evening.  The grace with which he
accepted this told Marion that an evening's pleasure was implicit in that
promise.  When Twyla joined her at the kitchen table, her first shot was, "Are
they all that easy to please?"

	Twyla blushed and smiled.  "Sometimes.  Mickey and I go back quite a
ways, and we have our shared interests, trust, and friendship - but sex is
wonderful for both of us; I'll not deny him.  I promised him I wouldn't..."

	"You WHAT?" Marion erupted, amazed.  This was so close to what SHE was
dealing with.  And it was somehow odd...

	Twyla took a bite of her sandwich, pensive, then took a shot at
explanation, "Some of the girls at school have decided that it isn't fair to
clamor for equality in other things, but wield the whip where sex is
concerned.  Girls want to be treated the same as boys at work and play, but
they want to hold unfair advantage over them where sex is concerned, playing
games with double-standards, being capricious, and acting like whores to get
what they want."

	"Whores?"

	"Uh huh.  Whores," Twyla asserted.  "A whore prostitutes herself to
get things she wants - money, jewels, a meal ticket...  And generally, they're
dishonest about it.  Most girls learn a game at their mother's knee that has
been popular for centuries, a bait and switch tactic designed to get them a
permanent provider while doing as little as humanly possible!  Promise him joy
and happiness, and above all, SEX - all he has to do is marry you...  And
then, AFTER he's bought the pig in a poke, if it all becomes too inconvenient,
play the 'oppressed female' card!"  Disgust crossed her features.  "Chivalry
isn't dead, but it SHOULD be!"

	"So you promised Mickey sex?"  Marion didn't get it.

	"Not at first, no," Twyla admitted.  "You saw us that night.  It all
started with a talk in the Ladies' Room with one of the girls - a girl who was
getting a lot of male attention by acting outrageous.  She told me that I had
everything it took to compete with her - all I had to do was step up to the
plate, and be serious about it.  She even suggested a tactic..."

	"Oh?"

	"You're not gonna like this..." Twyla opined.  "Dina was gathering
male eyes - including Mickey's - by showing her tits, among other things.  It
kind of crystallized things at the Prom; girls who were all show and no go
couldn't hold their dates' attention - but girls who were willing to commit to
SOMETHING could...  It didn't have to be sex, but it wasn't enough to talk
trash, or just be decorative; there had to be follow-through.  Some of this
kind of fell out of Mandi's Rules..."

	"Mandi's Rules?"  This was ALL news to Marion...

	"Mandi is a girl at school who hadn't gotten much attention until a
couple of weeks before the Prom - but she went solid gold, fast!  She met a
boy, and they hit it off, but he had some really modern ideas about what was
fair in a relationship.  Well, long about their third date, she wanted to feel
his hands on her back - something that happened while they were dancing on
their first date, because she'd been wearing a halter.  But THIS night, she
was in a blouse - and there was another couple there!  So she proposed the
following rule:  If she let him touch something, but not see it, future access
was hers to control.  But if she let him see AND touch it, it was his, on
demand, conquered territory - she couldn't wave it in front of him one night,
and deny it the next.  This let her take off her blouse without appearing to
be a slut..."

	"You never win that way," Marion pointed out.  "You stand to lose
territory every date!"

	"Who wants to win?" Twyla returned.  "If you date a boy two dozen
times, well, are you gonna continue to see a boy you DON'T want to get in your
pants?  Think about it!"  Twyla paused a moment, taking another bite and
chewing it reflectively.  "Mandi goofed up and lost ground really fast - it
seems she'd told Rick, her boyfriend, of a time when she could be caught out
virtually naked - but it all worked out and the whole thing set a new standard
for boy-girl relationships, one where the girl had to bring something to the
table besides empty promises.  Think about it, Mother - why is divorce such a
big thing?  In general, now - not you and Dad..."

	"Couples find out they're not compatible?" Marion hazarded.

	"Uh huh - generally, because the girl stops acting once things settle
down.  Oh, guys do it too, but they're such simple creatures, don't you
think?"  Twyla grinned.  "Mostly, it's because once she's married a girl
doesn't have to primp like a movie star any more  - and sex, if she provided
it at all, isn't important.  But to guys, it's ALWAYS important - they think
with that thing!  So it's, like, breach of contract - false advertising!"

	"Hmph.  You're right - that doesn't describe your father and I..."
Marion grunted.

	"No, maybe not - but I think it describes the general case.  Once
divorce became available as an out, guys took it - or girls did, after their
guys started wandering..." Twyla offered, eyeing her mother, sidelong.

	"Back to the main story!" Marion wanted this line of questioning
closed off.  It was too uncomfortable.

	"Okay.  Well, Mickey was coming around already when we left - there
was the discovery that I really WAS a girl, not just supposedly - but I was
still being chicken.  After I talked with Dina, I decided to stop being such
an idiot - but I also knew that I wasn't going to get anywhere with false
advertising.  So I stopped dancing with Mickey like he was my brother, or
cousin, or something, to see how he would react."

	"And?"

	"The results were...  amazing.  Mickey loosened right up and let me
know I had his full attention.  It was great!  I probably could've stopped
there, but..."  Twyla blushed.  "I wanted to be sure."

	Marion raised an eyebrow, "What did you do?"

	"Well, first, I told him that we were doing Mandi's rules," Twyla
related, diffidently.  Then she raised her eyes to her mother's, "Then the
next time Dina flashed her tits, I told Mickey that he could ogle hers or have
mine!"  She grinned.  "I don't think Mickey even LOOKED at Dina the rest of
the night!"

	"So when did you...?"

	"Oh, right then and there!  I unzipped the bodice and dropped it and
stuck his hands on them!"  At her mother's gasp, she continued, "It caught on,
too!  In half a minute there were a dozen topless girls on the dance floor!"

	"You shouldn't have done that!"  Marion was horrified.

	But Twyla was adamant.  "Yes, I should have!  Mandi's rules, remember?
No false advertising - deliver the goods!  There was no better way to convince
Mickey that I was serious!  Besides, this was Mickey, not some jerk - we had a
long conversation in the garden, afterwards - it turned out that Mickey was as
worried that being a couple would ruin our friendship as I was!  He's so
sweet..."

	"Okay, so I'll ask you again - when did you promise Mickey sex?"
Marion demanded.

	Twyla eyed her, eyes twinkling.  "Well, never, actually - not in so
many words!  I didn't decide until we were on the porch - just before I waved
off the limo..."

	"YOU w...!"

	"Yes, I did.  You thought Mickey did?  No, I did it.  As to when
Mickey realized he was gonna get it, well, you were there, on the stairs!
That's when I let him know..."

	"Weren't you telling me when it was that you promised Mickey he could
have sex whenever he wanted it?"  Marion demanded.  "Wasn't that the subject
of this conversation?  How come I feel like I've been going in circles?"

	"Mother!" Twyla erupted, irritated.  "Don't be so dense!  We HAD sex -
therefore, if he wants, we will have sex again!  It is implicit in Mandi's
rules!  I gave it to him - now it's his!"

	Marion, deflated, shook her head.  "Aren't there any limits?"

	"Why should there be?  He wants it, I want it - both of us have the
good sense not to ask for it when it isn't practical.  What other limits need
to be set?" Twyla asked pedantically.

	Marion rubbed her face.  "A fat lot of good you're going to be for me,
listening to MY problem!"

	Twyla grinned.  "Well, I'm gonna, anyway.  Give!"

	"Okay.  This all starts with you two," she announced wearily.
"Hearing, and occasionally SEEING you two have sex is killing me!  Not because
I disapprove, but because I'm horny - and jealous!"  At Twyla's triumphantly
smug glance, she queried, "You knew?"

	"Uh huh.  Mickey does, too."

	"Gawd, I'll never be able to look him in the eye!"  Marion hung her
head.

	"Ever wonder why the door is always open?"  Butter wouldn't melt in
Twyla's mouth.

	"Why don't you just get out the rack and thumbscrews?" Marion asked
rhetorically.

	Twyla shrugged, "I thought it might be easier to know than to
fantasize..."

	Marion shrugged.  "In some ways, maybe.  In others..."

	"Go on," Twyla prompted.

	"Okay.  So, I go to work a ticking sex bomb," Marion resumed.  "There
really aren't that many decent guys in that office, and most of THEM are
married - besides, its work; I can't just troll.  But there is this nice guy
in IT.  He always treats everybody nice, not like furniture, or something.
Monday, I went in to clean the Men's Room at noontime, and I didn't pay any
attention when I called out to see if it was occupied, then went busting in,
to find Aaron standing at the urinal, wrestling with a cock that was bigger
than Mickey's!"

	Twyla's shoulders shook, and her eyes twinkled, but she kept her voice
level.  "What did you do?"

	Marion wiped at her face, a study in distracted embarrassment, "I
stood there and stared at it, like a complete idiot!  For all I know, I
drooled!  And it got bigger..."

	Twyla couldn't hold it back.  "Oh, MY!" she squealed, laughing
uproariously.

	"Yeah," Marion smiled despite herself.  "After a minute or two, poor
Aaron turned away, and I found my manners and my good sense, and got out of
there.  But...  I could draw pictures of the thing in 3-D, from memory!  I was
a wreck!"

	"Aaron..."

	"...Morgenthaler, the nice guy from IT," Marion elaborated, then
sighed.  "So, anyway, yesterday came, and I started acting like an idiot.
When I went back at five, I started mooning around while cleaning the glass
doors outside IT, hoping for a glimpse - just total teenage crush time.  I
must have polished half of the glass away, but no sign of him.  Then I went to
clean IT's kitchenette, and here he comes, and proceeds to find six different
ways to touch me while he's making tea!  It was ridiculous, and crazy, and
totally transparent - and I LOVED it!"  Marion paused a moment, smiling.
Twyla was grinning from ear to ear - this was the good stuff!  "He wandered
back to his cube, but a couple of minutes later, I saw him headed for the main
hall - and I just KNEW he hadn't drunk any of that tea, and he was headed for
the Men's Room - the tea had been TOTALLY a game!"  She shook her head.  "I
went a little crazy, I guess - I snatched up a roll of toilet paper and ran
for the Men's Room!  And just like the day before, I just stood there watching
the thing grow!  Aaron knew who it was - he didn't make any effort to cover up
this time.  He just turned around and let me get my fill!"

	Twyla sat there, eyes huge.  "You did that?"

	Marion nodded.  "I wanted a LOT more - and Aaron knew it - but one or
both of us was too chicken.  I finally got a grip, and ran out of there.  I
was standing out in the hall, shaking, trying to figure out how I was going to
put my request for transfer, when Aaron came out and suggested that we go to
dinner and talk..."

	"Oh?  Did he yell, or was it more like blackmail?"

	"Oh, no, nothing like that!  He was... nice.  He came up behind me and
put his hands on my hips, and said, 'Don't you think we ought to talk?'  I
stood there with my mouth open, and he just drew me against him.  I felt him
against my ass, and then he slid his hands up to my nipples, right there in
the hallway!  But Aaron's nice - really nice.  There wasn't any sarcasm, or
anything; if I'd gotten stupid, he'd have played it off - but I managed to
send the right signals, and he just kind of gathered me in..."

	"Then what happened?"  Twyla was breathless.

	"Well, after work, I followed him to a restaurant - the diner down on
Third - and we talked over dinner.  Aaron is just as inexperienced at
relationships as I am, so we played it straight; he asked some questions,
trying to figure out what I was looking for, and I answered, and then he gave
his answers to the same questions - stuff like 'Do you want just sex, or a
long-term thing?'  Only not that way - Aaron is really intelligent, and he
comes off that way.  What he said was..."   Marion pondered a moment, "He
said, 'What do you hope for in a successful relationship between us?'"

	Twyla nodded.  "What did you say?"

	"Well, we made kind of a pact to play straight, so I didn't tell him
what I thought he wanted to hear - I told him the truth:  I wanted it perfect,
and I wanted it forever, but I'd settle for a good deal less!"

	Twyla blinked.  "And you came home when?  What did you do between ten
and two?  Sit alone in the restaurant and drink coffee?"

	"No," Marion replied, pensive.  "That's what I THOUGHT was going to
happen.  What DID happen was he said 'Me, too,' or words to that effect.
About that time, we decided we'd done about all we could do in a restaurant,
so we went to his place."

	"And?"

	"And, well it was wonderful!  He was kind, and gentle, and every time
it seemed like we were going to hit the wall, he did or said something that
fixed it.  And the sex was unbelievable, but..."  Marion stared vacantly at
the tabletop, remembering.

	"But what, Mom?  What is it that has you all knotted up?"  Twyla
hadn't heard ANYTHING bad...

	Marion looked up at her daughter.  "I learned a hundred things last
night, at least.  I need to say some things about your father, things that
never really came home until last night.  They're hard, but you need to
understand them to understand my problem with Aaron."

	Caution colored Twyla's reply.  Dad wasn't much of a father - wasn't
much of anything, as far as Twyla could see - but Mom had never bad-mouthed
him...  "Go ahead."

	Marion stared off into space, and the words dripped slowly out, "I
discovered a lot during the divorce; things I knew, but ignored while we were
married.  But I really didn't have a basis for comparison until last night, so
I really didn't realize...  Your father never loved me.  He never even put
forth any effort to even really be considerate, never mind loving.  I'd been
told this, but I didn't understand it:  I was just a steady piece of ass -
something to tide him over until his next conquest.  It was your Dad's nature;
he was never faithful to me - even the night he took my virginity, he slept
with Aunt Felicia!  On any given day, if he couldn't find another woman to
have sex with, he came home to me.  I'm sorry..."

	"No, its okay," Twyla was a bit shocky, but nothing serious.

	"Your father's greatest gift was his ability to charm women - but he
generally couldn't hold onto them.  I found out why THAT happens, too, last
night..."  Marion mused a moment, "I was the exception - I gave him what he
wanted, when he wanted it.  These 'Mandi's Rules' you're talking about?  Well,
I played by them.  If your Dad wanted sex, he got it.  If I had a headache, I
took two aspirin, and he got it.  If I was on my period, I douched, and he got
it.  I never denied him; I liked sex, and he was supplying it - the thought
never entered my mind."

	"One evening with Aaron pointed the whole thing up in ways that I'd
never have believed - you see, Aaron is kind, gentle, thoughtful, considerate
- and brutally honest, something your father NEVER was.  Little things, like
how he woke me up this morning.  When you father and I were going together, we
would have sex, and then it was time for one of us to go, almost immediately.
He would say something like, 'Oops!  Look at the time!' and he'd be gone.  Or
if I had to leave, it would be something else, but I had a couple of minutes
to get into my clothes, or I'd be doing it in the hallway!  I didn't really
know any better, but..."  Marion shook her head.  "Last night, Aaron and I
had, well, just incredible sex!  I came so hard I gushed all over him!
Compared to Aaron, well, I'm pretty sure why your Dad had problems holding on
to his women - he's not that big, and he's not very innovative.  I think we
only ever did two positions; variety for your Dad consisted of having a new
bed partner, not trying something new with an old one.  I'm sorry I'm putting
him down so..."  She sighed.  "Anyway, it was stupendous - and exhausting!  I
fell asleep, and Aaron did, too.  But when he woke me, it was to say, 'Can you
stay, or must you leave?'  That might not seem big to you, but I KNOW from the
way he said it that I could have rolled over and gone back to sleep, and he'd
have been thrilled!  And that's a first!"

	"Mom, I don't get it!  What's the problem, then?" Twyla let
exasperation slip out.

	"Aaron has this idea," Marion returned.  "We first spoke about it at
dinner.  You see his first wife was apparently a total bitch, and punished him
by denying him sex - so he wants me to give up my right to say 'no' where sex
is concerned."  She rubbed her face, and husked, "He can be very controlling;
when we were making love, he got me in a frenzy, then he said things - and he
teased ME into saying things - things I'm not sure I can deal with."

	"Well, from what you've told me, you gave Dad anything he wanted..."
Twyla murmured.

	"Hon, your father owned me, like I was a farm animal or something -
but I didn't know any better!  Aaron," Marion shook her head.  "Aaron wants me
to do the same thing, but to be conscious of what I'm doing - and to admit
that I like it that way!"  Marion hung her head.  "He... got me hot, and then
he made me beg...  then he rubbed my nose in it, asking me what kind of person
would do anything for sex.  And then he...  made me say I was a slut..."
Tears ran down her cheeks.  "I tried to argue, but...  In the Men's Room that
second time...  all he would have had to do was crook a finger..."

	"And what, Mom," Twyla asked gently.  "You'd have fucked him?"

	Marion nodded tightly.  "I'd have fucked him, or sucked him - I'd have
got down on that floor naked, right then!  And he knew it, and he...  used it
on me...  I couldn't argue - I couldn't defend myself..."  She locked tear-
filled eyes on her daughter.  "I want him - but he scares me so!  Today, I
asked him if just granting him control was the whole thing, and he said
something about implications...  I don't know where it would go, and I don't
think he does, either - but I don't know if I can..."

	"Mom, did he get you to SAY you're a slut, or did he get you to ADMIT
you're a slut?"

	Marion opened her mouth, closed it, looked away.  "Admit it - if his
definition of slut is correct."

	"What was his definition?"

	"Ummm," Marion worked hard at remembering the exact words.  "He said,
'What do you call a woman who can't control herself where sex is concerned?
One who has to have it, and will humiliate and degrade herself to get it?'"

	"Uh huh," Twyla replied, "That's probably a pretty good definition.
And he humiliated and degraded you?"

	Marion nodded.  "He made me say I was one, then he said 'Sluts don't
wear panties'.  I kicked mine off so fast, we couldn't find them!  I was on
fire!  I offered him every hole I had - even my ass!  I've never..."

	"You know, sluts are different than whores," Twyla offered
thoughtfully.  "Whores use sex; sluts just enjoy it.  Mickey and I have talked
about this; I guess the subject has come up among the guys at school.  Guys
despise whores, but sluts, well, every boy wants one..."  Twyla grinned.  "We
girls use the terms interchangeably, usually while pretending that being a
slut is a bad thing.  But guys see a difference, and to them, being a slut is
NOT a bad thing..."

	"So," Marion grated, "Aaron's right?  I'm a slut?"

	"Mom," Twyla replied levelly, "I'M a slut!  Sex with Mickey is
something I've learned that I don't want to do without!  If you admit to being
a slut, it's not the end of the world!"

	"But don't sluts sleep around?  That's what I asked Aaron - if I'm a
slut, why don't I sleep around?" Marion demanded.

	"What was Aaron's answer?" Twyla responded.

	"That I was shy, and lacked opportunity, and had good sense.  That
being a slut was only one part of my nature, and that other parts masked it,
generally."

	"And what's wrong with that answer?" Twyla inquired.

	"Nothing.  Dammit."  Marion drew designs on the table top with her
finger.

	"I can ask Mickey," Twyla offered, "but I think there are sluts that
sleep around, and there are 'kept' sluts.  The ones that sleep around get some
contempt, because they're ALL about sex, but 'kept' sluts love their man..."

	"Well, okay, maybe - but what am I gonna do about Aaron?  What if this
is only the tip of the iceberg?" Marion asked querulously.

	"That's your call, Mother," Twyla replied, then eying her, added,
"Maybe."

	"Oh!"  Marion went bolt-upright.  "I've got to call Doctor Benning!  I
need Pills!"  She dashed out of the kitchen, leaving Twyla wondering whether
she'd made a decision in the matter - or just found an excuse to tuck it away.
Come to think of it, that was a pretty interesting excuse...