Prick Van Winkle

by Lubrican

Chapters : 1-2 | 3-4 | 5-6 | 7-8 | 9-10 | 11-12 | 13-14 | 15-15 | 17-18
19-20 | 21-22 | 23-24 | 25-26 | 27-28 | 29-30 | 31-32 | 33-Epilogue

Chapter 17

During the rest of the shopping trip June didn't say anything more about Becca. She did ask a lot of questions about Denny, thinking she was prying subtly. It didn't occur to her that she was talking to a trained interrogator, and that he could see right through her. He started returning the favor, asking her personal questions. It was when he found out she had more children than Gidget and asked who their fathers were that she told him he was being nosey and settled into an uncomfortable silence in the back seat.

Bob shook his head as Denny and June outfitted him with walking shoes, complaining that they looked huge on his feet. But when he took a few steps he was amazed at how resilient the soles were, and how comfortable they were to wear right out of the box. In his day each pair of new shoes had to be "broken in" before they were comfortable at all, or before you could wear them without getting blisters.

When they got back to the cabin June insisted on meeting Sally. Bob said he was going to fix something to eat and Denny took June to the other cabin. An hour later June came back by herself. She started taking her clothes off as soon as she closed the door.

"Again?" asked Bob, smiling.

"Of course." she said, unashamed. "Talking about Becca made me horny."

Ten minutes later Bob suckled at a stiff nipple as he gently slid his rampant member into June's pussy and she gave a moan of relief.

"Is this what you want Denny to do to Becca?" he asked, pushing hard and mashing her cervix with the tip of his prick.

"We're not here to talk about what he does with Becca." she moaned. "You pay attention to what you're doing with me."

Bob paid attention, having a blast watching as June reached her pinnacle twice in five minutes.

"Ohhh I love doing this with you Daddy." she moaned as she relaxed after her second orgasm. "Do this with me forever, pleeaase?" she whined.

"What if I knock you up again?" he asked, feeling his own orgasm approaching.

"Then I'll have another of your beautiful babies," she beamed. "But I wouldn't count on it. My periods are getting pretty spotty these days."

"So, should I find myself a younger woman?" asked Bob, thrusting harder.

"No!" she barked. "You're mine ... ours ... Ohhhh Daddy, I love it so much when I feel that up inside me." She cooed as his prick belched ropes of hot spunk into her pussy and he sagged down onto her ample breasts. She stroked his back with her fingertips and kissed his cheek several times.

When he rolled off of her she rolled up onto her side and looked at him, putting her hand on his chest as he caught his breath.

"You do make beautiful babies, you know." she said softly. "We shouldn't hog you. You should be able to make more beautiful babies with some lucky woman."

"Whenever one of you girls is around," Bob panted, "There wouldn't be anything left to make any beautiful babies with."

Her laughter tinkled. "You know how to make an old woman feel good, I'll say that for you."

"You're still just a girl to me, sweetheart." he said. "I have a feeling you always will be."

"Even when I'm gray and baggy?" she teased.

"Even then." he said seriously.

"Then I suppose we can share you with some fertile young woman." she said.

Becca's announcement that she wanted to go out with Denny had gone pretty much as June had described it, though not exactly.

"Mom, I'm eighteen," said Becca firmly. "I'm an adult. I can go out with whoever I want to."

"You may be recognized as an adult by the State of California," countered Gidget, "but you're still an inexperienced girl. That man is too old for you. You have no idea what men are like."

Becca, who remembered the delicious feeling of her great grandfather's prick sliding in and out of her delighted pussy, thought she knew exactly what men were like, but she couldn't tell her mother that. Instead she tried to downplay the sexual aspects of the date she wanted to go on.

"Mom, it would just be a first date. He's a policeman, for pity's sake. If you can't trust a policeman, who can you trust?"

"He's a man." her mother said stubbornly. "They all want the same thing. They want to lie and make a baby in you and then leave you defenseless to raise it."

"I can't believe you really believe that," said Becca. Her mother had never talked about Becca's father, except to say that she was madly in love with him when he made her pregnant, and that she was never sorry she'd had Becca. Now, in the heat of argument between two women, new information, slim though it was, had come out.

"Sweetheart," said Gidget. "Relationships are hard even for adults. You need to take it slow and be around boys your own age. They want the same thing, but at least they don't lie about it. I'm sure Denny is a nice man, but he's a man, Becca, not a boy. While they all want the same thing from a woman, Men know how to push a girl's buttons so she can't think."

"Is that what happened to you?" asked Becca, sure that it was. She remembered her lesson with Bob quite well.

Gidget looked at the light of her life. She didn't want to confess to her stupidity as a girl in college, to the fact that she had been played by her suave college professor, that he had crushed her heart so badly that she hated all men for a long time after that. She saw herself back then as a weakling girl who had been cast adrift in the big, bad world. She'd fought tooth and nail to make her own way, embracing the women's lib movement, sure that she didn't need a man for anything. Still, there had been long, lonely nights when all she could think about was what it would be like to have one of the brutes in her bed, pressing her to the mattress, making her feel that lovely zing she missed so much.

It came to her suddenly that she didn't know all that much about men, and that embarrassed her too. She'd worked with them, socialized with them, and turned probably a hundred down when they made the inevitable move that showed they were all pigs who just wanted sex. The trouble was, she wanted sex too, all those years, just like they did, and that confused her.

"Something like that." she answered belatedly, as she saw Becca waiting for an answer. "I don't know what to tell you any more. I thought my life was ruined, but obviously it wasn't. You're perfect, and I have a good life. Part of it was that I didn't want to turn out like my mother."

"Why?" asked Becca. "Grandma is a wonderful woman."

"I know. She's so happy all the time it makes me sick," said Gidget sourly. "But she had three of us, and none of us know who our father is, and that just convinced me that men only want one thing and never take responsibility for the wreckage they create."

"So I'm wreckage?" asked Becca just as sourly.

"Of course not." barked Gidget. "I couldn't imagine the world without you in it. It's just so confusing when you bring men into the picture."

"You know what I think?" asked Becca. She knew her mother hadn't gone out with a single man all the time she was growing up. "I think you need to get laid."

Gidget's reaction was satisfyingly explosive. She was so aghast she was speechless. Becca put up a hand, smiling.

"See Mom? Women know how to push buttons too. It's not just men. We all do it to each other. The trick is knowing what to do when your buttons are pushed."

Gidget was thinking of something appropriately harsh to set her daughter straight with when she had the epiphany that her little girl wasn't so clueless after all. The harsh words died in her throat.

"And you think you can control it when your buttons get pushed?" she asked.

"Probably not." admitted Becca, thinking back to how she felt when she seduced her great grandfather. He had even resisted and she couldn't wait to go forward. "But I can at least choose what kind of man I want to be with when all those buttons get pressed. And I think Denny is a nice man. I'd like to get to know him better to find out for sure, but I'm pretty sure he's a good guy." She kept going. "You told me once that you loved my father. I don't know what happened, because you won't talk about it, but if you loved him, and you love me, then maybe what happened wasn't so terrible after all."

Gidget was stunned. Becca had noticed something she had known down inside, but never admitted. Her life had been pretty good, all things considered. Other than all those lonely nights, she really couldn't complain about how things had turned out. She tried to imagine what life would have been like if her professor had gotten a divorce and married her. Now that she was older, she knew in her heart of hearts that he would have had affairs with other coeds. He'd had two affairs while she was pregnant with his child. She had just chosen the wrong man, that's all. Her dreams of love and happiness had overshadowed her common sense. And there had been men in her life who hadn't hit on her. She had seen appreciation for her in their eyes, but they had been polite enough to mask that interest because she didn't return it. She was still convinced that most of them wanted to bed her ... but some of them hadn't acted on that urge.

"I suppose it wasn't at that." she admitted.

"So I can ask him out?" asked Becca eagerly.

Gidget felt herself stiffen and relaxed intentionally. "I'm still worried. He's so much older than you. And regardless of how strong you think you are, a man has a way of getting under your skin ... if not your blouse." Gidget blushed.

Becca felt the crack in her mother's obstinacy weakening.

"What if somebody else went with us? Would that help you not to worry so much?"

"A double date?" asked Gidget, suddenly interested. That might actually be a good idea.

Becca grinned. "Mom, people don't 'double date' any more. That's called hanging out, these days. You're showing your age."

Gidget, sensitive to her age and the fact that while men still looked at her hungrily, it wouldn't be all that long before she was sure they'd stop, felt a surge of recalcitrance toward her daughter. Then she smiled.

"Okay, hanging out then. You can go if one of your aunts hangs out with you."

"Mom!" Becca was horrified. "You want me to take Aunt Polly or Aunt Sunny on a date with me?"

Gidget smiled a satisfied little smile. She had unwittingly hit on the very thing that would cancel the date.

"That's right, young lady. One of them has to go with you. Then and only then will I approve."

"I'm an adult, mother," said Becca acidly. "I don't have to have your approval."

"Yes dear," said Gidget sweetly, "but you're my baby too, and I know you won't do anything that would hurt your poor old mother." She was remarkably chipper as her mood improved. She was just sure the date would never happen now. "Now, I have to go do some shopping. We'll talk about this later."

Gidget hummed to herself as she drove off. She might be getting up there, but she still had it when it came to dealing with her daughter.

Back at the house, Becca picked up the phone. Her mother might not have felt nearly so chipper if she'd have seen the smile on Becca's face.

Becca knew instinctively that her Aunt Sunny was out of the picture. That left Polly. She figured that her first hurdle was getting Aunt Polly to agree to go with her under any circumstances. Once that was accomplished, and she had no idea yet whether she could pull it off, then the next step was to ensure that someone else came along to occupy Polly's time so she'd be too busy to keep a close eye on Becca. It was a somewhat nebulous kind of plan, without any firm foundation. For that matter, she didn't even know if Denny would consent to a date.

But, as young girls do, she proceeded with step one of what could result in a complete train wreck, and did it with both enthusiasm and the conviction that everything would work out perfectly.

"Your mother said what?" asked Polly when Becca had explained.

"She says I can go on a date with this guy, but somebody ... either you or Aunt Sunny has to go with me."

"Why on earth would she say that? Who is this man you want to go out with?"

"You remember at the hospital? When we got searched? You remember the tall one named Denny?" Becca tossed out offhandedly.

Polly laughed out loud. "You can't be serious! Why Becca, he's got to be in his mid twenties."

"Yes, but he's cute, and he wasn't wearing a wedding ring or anything, and he was polite, even though we really were a handful." pointed out Becca.

Polly laughed again. "You can say that again. In fact, I was several handfuls for that other young man." Her laughter turned into a giggle. "I haven't had that much fun in years! I'd almost forgotten how exciting it was to have a man's hands on me."

"As I recall you were complaining pretty loudly," said Becca.

"Of course I was. A woman has to keep up appearances. But never mind. I shouldn't be talking this way around you."

"Aunt Polly," moaned Becca. "I'm eighteen. I can go out and do whatever I want. I'm an adult now. Why won't anybody treat me like an adult?"

"You're right dear. So why don't you just go out with him anyway? Your mother can't do anything about it. You don't need me along."

"Aunt Polly, you know I love my mother. She'd have kittens if I did that and it would be tense in the house for the rest of the summer. I don't want to go off to college in the fall with her still mad at me. Come on. It would be fun."

"Oh yeah what a lot of fun, watching you two neck or something from the back seat." snorted Polly.

"I could find someone else to go along ... you know ... kind of like a double date?"

Polly laughed again. "Becca, I'm thirty-nine years old. I'm married, though Roger wouldn't care. Who would want to take an old woman like me out on a date? Besides, I wouldn't know what to do. It would be very uncomfortable."

"Not if you just talked and got to know each other. Who knows? You might find a new friend," said Becca. "Don't you know somebody who's interesting that you'd like to get to know a little better?"

"No I don't," said Polly. "I'm busy with my career and taking care of Frannie to let my eyes wander to things I shouldn't think about anyway. You'll just have to see if Sunny will go with you. She's not married."

"That won't work." sighed Becca. "She about had a conniption fit when Val said she wanted to go out with that detective guy. She'd never agree to go along with it."

"Well, sugar, that's the biz," said Polly. "Pick a younger guy and tell your mother to butt out. I gotta go honey, sorry." The connection went dead.

Becca wasn't about to give up though. Denny was about the same biological age as Bob, and after what she'd experienced with Bob, she had no interest in trying that with some fumbling teenager.

Next she called Val.

First she asked Val how her date with the detective had gone. The cousins hadn't been able to get together since then and she was burning with curiosity.

"I can't talk about it right now." whispered Val. "My mother's in the next room."

"Oh! It was that good?" squealed Becca.

"Ohhh Becca, you have no idea."

"I bet I do," said Becca defensively.

"That reminds me," said Val, still whispering. "I'm not mad at you any more."

"You were mad at me?" asked Becca.

"Yes, about Grandpa ... what you did with him."

"Oh," said Becca. "Why didn't you say anything? I thought you'd be happy for me."

"I was, but I was jealous too. But not any more. If you hadn't done that I probably wouldn't have gone out with Zack and I'm really glad I went out with Zack."

"Wow Val, this sounds serious." breathed Becca.

"It is serious," said Val. "I can't believe it myself. Everything just clicked or something. I've never had an experience anything like it."

That reminded Becca of why she'd called. She explained the situation to Val and asked if maybe Zack could get her Denny's number.

"If Aunt Polly won't go along with it why bother?" asked Val.

"I have an idea," said Becca. "I don't know if it will work, but I at least want to try it. I really want to ask Denny to take me out."

"What if he says no?" asked Val. "I don't want you to get hurt."

"You asked Zack out didn't you? Were you worried about him saying no?"

"Yes," said Val. "I was scared half to death."

"Well that's you. I'm not too worried about it. Besides, if he says no then he's not the kind of guy I think he is and I won't want to go out with him any more anyway."

"You're too much," said Val. "Hold on a minute."

Becca heard the line go on hold and waited. After what seemed like a long time she came back on.

"I got it." she said. "But Zack says you can't tell anybody how you got his number. He said he only broke department rules because he's helpless when I ask him for anything. Isn't that sweet?"

"I have got to hear about that date," said Becca.

Val giggled and gave Becca the number. "It's his cell phone. Zack says he carries it on duty, but won't answer it if he's busy. You can leave him a message on it too. Good luck."

Denny had just parked the car and Bob was putting on his new walking shoes when Denny's cell phone rang. His ring tone was "Another one bites the dust". He flipped it open.

"Yeah?" he said. He looked startled as he listened.

"How did you get this number?" he asked. He listened and then said "No, I'm not mad ... just surprised, that's all. Believe it or not we were just talking about you." He grinned and waved at Bob and June. "I'm up in the mountains visiting my sister and I ran into your great grandfather. Your grandmother is here too."

He listened for a few seconds, and his smile got bigger.

"Well, we were talking about you because your Grandmother said your mom is close to having a stroke ... what about? ... I think you know what about."

Both June and Bob were standing alertly near Denny now. They had both figured out who he was talking to and were amazed.

"What?... " Denny looked stricken. "You're kidding me, right? ... Oh good grief! ... I haven't even heard anybody use the term 'double date' since I was in Junior High School." Denny's gaze went unfocused. "Brian? ... Which one is she? ... Oh, that one. I have a feeling Brian will cooperate. But hey, Internal Affairs would probably frown on all this ... it needs to be outside of Sacramento ... Sure, I think it would be fun ... okay ... talk to you later."

He flipped the phone closed and scratched his head.

"That was Becca." he said.

June gave an explosive "Hah! I knew it! What did she say?"

"She said that her mother forbade her to go out with me unless it was on a double date with one of her aunts," said Denny, grinning.

Bob laughed out loud as June looked shocked.

"Which one?" gasped June.

"She says she's going to get Polly to go with us. She wants me to set her up with Brian, my partner."

June looked even more shocked. "But she's married! And she's twice his age!"

"I remember her," said Denny. "She was the one who said she was married to a gay man, right?"

"Yes, that's right." agreed June. "But..."

"And, as I recall, I had to scold them both during that search about getting a little raunchy," said Denny.

June's eyes popped. "You're right!" she said. "I remember now."

"So, what do you think?" asked Denny.

"I can't believe you'd seriously consider having Polly along," said June. "Becca's an adult, like I said. Why would you want to make this into a dog and pony show?"

"I'm a peace officer, Ma'am," said Denny grinning. "We try to promote domestic tranquility. Becca's mother couldn't really complain if we did it that way, now could she?"

June laughed. "It would serve her right too!" she hooted. "But now that I think about it, who would chaperone Polly and your partner?" She grinned.

"How serious could things get if her niece was right there with her?" asked Denny. "My intentions, of course, are strictly honorable, and I'd be protecting her virtue too."

June wrinkled up her eyes and squinted at Denny. "You, young man, are a dangerous ... young man. Maybe I should ride along for the fun too."

"Sorry Ma'am," said Denny, trying to look contrite. "As you well know, my car only seats four."

"Not if I sat between whoever's in the back seat," said June, leering.

"June, leave the man alone," said Bob.

After a two hour hike, during which both June and Bob kept up remarkably well, Denny retired to his sister's cabin. June was sore and asked Bob for a rubdown. That, of course, turned into him rubbing her in places that weren't sore, including the inside of her vaginal canal. They lay together, spent, and cuddled until both realized how hungry they were. They fixed supper together and then talked for hours as June described her life while Bob slept. It was the first time the two of them had really had time enough to talk about things in detail, and both enjoyed it immensely.

Then, of course, they got hot and sweaty in bed, falling asleep together after rolling apart, but still holding hands.

Chapter 18

The next morning June took Bob to see Doctor Adams. This time Bob knew where he was going and nobody noticed them in the building at all. Dr. Adams had already had some tests run on Bob's blood, and on this day he had a long list of various scans and other tests that they went through. Adams accompanied June and Bob to lunch, asking detailed questions about everything Bob could remember about the day he had gone to sleep. When they got back to the hospital Adams did a DNA test on Bob. Some of the test results were back already, but none showed anything of interest, except that Bob appeared to be a perfectly healthy twenty-five year old male. Even the scarring on his leg where a dog had bitten him as a young boy appeared to be scar tissue that was no more than ten or fifteen years old. The x-ray of his teeth showed two small cavities, neither of which could possibly have been there for more than a year and, according to the oral surgeon Adams called in to consult, probably wouldn't even have been noticed by an exam in 1950 due to the technology available at that time.

It was clear to everyone who examined him that Bob had just stopped aging for fifty years. To see if being awake again had changed whatever that amazing phenomenon was they took all kinds of measurements, even down to the length of the hairs on Bob's arms.

Everyone was extremely excited.

Becca went to see her aunt this time, instead of calling her on the phone. She picked a time when Fran would be there, expecting her cousin to bolster her cause. She took Fran outside, as if she had come only to see her, and explained everything to her.

Fran listened, her face neutral. Finally Becca was done.

"So," said Fran. "You want to hook my mom up with that young guy who searched her." She didn't look happy.

"Yes, isn't it cool?" gushed Becca.

Fran didn't think it was cool at all. It wasn't that she was disgusted about her mother going out with a younger man. She couldn't really conceive of her mother on a date of any kind. Living in a house with a straight mother and a gay father had exposed Fran to a large number of things. Seeing her father with another man didn't shock her. Her relationship with him was, oddly, just about like any girl's relationship with her father. He loved her, and set rules for her, helped her with her homework when he could and taught her how to play baseball and ride a bike. He was, in her opinion, just like any other man, except that he got his emotional kicks with men instead of her mother. Her mother, on the other hand, had not exhibited any sort of sexual drive for as long as Becca had known her. The first time she'd seen her mother acting sexual in any way, shape or form was during the search that had brought this whole thing on.

On top of that, like Val, she was jealous of Becca's experience with Grandpa. That Val had been out on a date with an older man too just made it worse. Val hadn't told her anything about what went on, on that date, telling her she was too young to understand.

That was the real problem. Everybody around her thought she was too young to do anything! Yet she was curious too. She got horny just like her older cousins did. She had dreams like they did. And, in the same odd quirk that seemed to affect all the Winkle women, she didn't have much interest in men her own age.

So, at this point in time, when Becca was trying to enlist her to help get her mother to go on a date, Fran was a very frustrated young woman.

"What's wrong?" asked Becca. She knew her cousin intimately, and saw the consternation on Fran's face.

"I'll tell you what's wrong," said Fran heavily. "Everybody else gets to do fun things with men except me."

"But you're just..."

Fran cut her off with a shout. "Don't you tell me I'm only sixteen!" She lowered her voice when Becca shot a look at the front door. "I know how old I am. Did you know my grandmother had Mom when she was only fifteen?" Becca looked confused. "And Aunt Martha had Aunt Sunny when she was fifteen. and ... your grandmother had your mother when she was fifteen too! None of them were too young to have fun with men!"

Becca was shocked. "Yes ... okay ... but that was way back then. None of our mothers had us until after they were out of High School."

"I know that too," said Fran. "But it's still not fair! You and Val get to have all the fun. When will it be my turn?"

Becca may have only been two years older than her cousin, but two years ... and the experience Becca had with Bob ... made a pretty big difference in how she looked at things.

"You have plenty of time to catch up." she said, reaching out to touch Fran's arm. "Come on, I know you want to be all grown up, but don't try to grow up too fast. And don't be mad at us. We can't help it if we're older than you."

"I'm not mad at you," said Fran dejectedly. "I'm just jealous. And now you want my mom to go out and have fun too. It just doesn't seem fair at all, that's all."

"So? Go on some dates, silly." chided Becca. "You're a good looking girl. I know boys are trying to chase you."

"Are you going out with a boy your age?" asked Fran acidly. "Did Val go out with a man her age? Are you trying to get my mother to go out with a man her age?"

Becca blinked. "Oh." was all she said.

"Yeah ... Oh!" said Fran meaningfully. "Okay, here's the deal. You help me and I'll help you."

"What do you mean?" asked Becca hesitantly. "Who do you want to go out with?"

"I want to have some fun with Grandpa ... like you did," said Fran.

"No way!" squeaked Becca. "He tried not to do anything with me. He'd never agree to do anything with you."

"But if he would ... you'd help me?" asked Fran.

Becca didn't see any likelihood of that happening, so it didn't seem at all dangerous to say "okay."

Little could she know how momentous that simple "okay" would turn out.

Inside, Polly had no idea that she was about to be blindsided. Her niece's attempt to get her to chaperone while double dating had been something so far out that it had stuck in her mind. Polly's life with men hadn't been quite so tumultuous as her sisters' lives had been. She loved Roger when she married him, and still loved him, though probably in a different way. She was ... comfortable with him. She'd had several experiences with men before Roger, and he seemed no different from them. If anything, Roger had spent more time - back when they still made love - paying attention to her needs during intercourse than the others had.

It had been complicated.

He had actually been trying to "go straight" by marrying her. What she found out later was that whenever he was fucking her, he was thinking about a man he liked. When he'd finally confessed everything out of shame that he was mistreating her, he hadn't even been able to get an erection with her after that. She'd been mad as hell initially, but because of Frannie, both of them thought better of breaking up. Since then she hadn't thought much about men. The men Roger hung out with, of course, weren't attractive to her because she assumed (incorrectly) they were all gay too. She had looked at other men occasionally, and had spent many a night with her hands between her legs for a while as she dreamed of being with some of them. But she never had the courage to make an overture, partly because it would look like she was cheating, and partly because she was sure in the back of her mind that the man she picked would probably turn out to be gay too. Eventually she left "men" behind in a way, convincing herself that sex was way overrated anyway. Instead, she poured her energy into her career and her daughter.

But that young policeman, sliding his hands all over her body at the hospital, and his attention to her as a woman had reawakened something deep inside Polly ... a tiny little itch that kept wanting to be touched or scratched.

Now Becca's suggestion to double date had dangled hope like a carrot in front of a donkey. It had made something in Polly want to say "Yes!", if only the part of her that was bored to tears with work and the world in general. The idea of going out and having some fun in the company of a man was attractive. A bigger part of her was afraid to take the risk. It had made her moody, and she was still moody when Becca showed up to see Fran. She was baking cookies. She always did that when she was moody. It cheered her up. She was thankful that Becca hadn't come in trying to revive the idea. It would have been much harder to say no again, for some strange reason.

She was therefore unprepared when Becca and her daughter came in from outside and plunked themselves down at the kitchen table.

"Uh oh," said Fran suddenly.

"What?" asked Becca.

"She's making cookies. That means she's in a funk."

"You shouldn't talk about people behind their back," said Polly smiling a little.

"I have to," said Fran airily. "Your back is turned to us. What's wrong?"

"Nothing," said Polly. She didn't want to bring anything up with Becca sitting right there.

"You yell at me when I say that," said Fran.

Polly turned to frown at her daughter. Raising a teenager was frightening sometimes.

"This is different." she said stubbornly.

"Oh, okay," said Fran. "Can we have a cookie?"

"No," said Polly shortly. "It will ruin your dinner."

"Dinner's not for hours." moaned Fran theatrically.

Polly ignored her, putting another tray of cookies in the oven.

Becca wasn't so sure things were going well enough to put her plan into action. Still, like most young women, she was too impatient to wait.

"I called Denny." she said into the silence.

Polly stiffened and then tried to relax. She pushed away at the fluttery feeling in her stomach. "That's nice. So you're going to go in spite of your mother?" she said.

"He won't go out with me," said Becca.

Polly felt her heart lurch with empathy and turned around.

"Oh, sweetheart, I'm so sorry."

"He won't go out with me unless I find a date for Brian too," said Becca, watching Polly closely. "You remember Brian?"

Polly felt her breath catch in her chest and put one hand there. For sure she remembered Brian. His whisper in her ear after his hands had slid all over her body had made her nipples tingle. She had had to manufacture the outrage she tried to display, when what she wanted to do was tell the man he might have missed something and should probably search her again ... more thoroughly.

"Yes." came out of her mouth while she was preparing to say "Who?"

"Denny says that he and Brian are partners, and they like to do things together, even off duty. He said it's kind of like being brothers. And he said he couldn't go off and leave Brian all alone some night while he went out and had fun with me."

Becca darted a look at Fran, who winked and nodded slightly.

"It's too bad you don't want to go with me. Would it be okay if Fran went along? She could be Brian's date. My mother might agree to that."

Polly felt faint and leaned against the stove with one hand. It was hot and she jerked her hand away.

"Absolutely not!" she said. "Frannie's too young to go out with an older man like that. You are too, young lady."

"Mom" moaned Fran. "Come on, Becca would be there to take care of me. Nothing would happen. Didn't you say he wanted to go miniature golfing Becca? What could possibly happen playing miniature golf Mom?"

"You girls are in this way over your heads," said Polly earnestly. "Those are older men. They've been with lots of women. They're adults and they'd want to treat you like adults. But you're not adults. No. I can't allow this."

"Well then," said Becca sadly, "Maybe I can get one of my friends to go with him. Mom won't like it, but that's just too bad. I want to go on a real date with a real man. If mom kicks me out can I at least stay here until school starts?"

If Polly would have had the control to look at Becca closely, she would have seen that Becca's expression just didn't quite match her sad comments. She might also have noticed that her own little girl had a small smile on her face, after being denied the chance to do something she apparently wanted to do.

But Polly wasn't looking at the girls.

What Polly was looking at in her mind's eye was two young girls out with two experienced men. What that looked like in her mind's eye was two sets of naked male buttocks bounding up and down between two sets of slim teenaged legs.

"No!" gasped Polly. Then her mind caught up to the last thing Becca had said. Her motherly instincts kicked in on top of her own desire to do something crazy and she blurted "I'll do it! I'll go with you."

Becca was out of her chair in an instant and she smothered her aunt with hugs and kisses, thanking her profusely. It wasn't until Polly shoved her away laughing that Fran remembered the role she was still supposed to be playing.

"Damn!" she said, not too loudly. "I never get to do anything!"

Polly's eyes flashed as she lit into her daughter for cursing. Fran was so pleased with her acting that she had to put her hands in her face to keep her mother from seeing her grin. Polly, of course, thought she was crying and dropped into the role of consoling mom.

"Don't cry honey ... you'll get your chance. I promise. Tell you what ... if this date with Becca works out, and I go on any more, maybe you and I can double date."

Fran didn't have to act to put horror on her face as she raised it.

"Mom!" she gasped.

Polly looked shocked and then unaccountably she felt giddy. She was going on a date with a handsome man, and her very own niece was going to be there to make sure it was only a date. She wasn't even incensed at her daughters obvious repulsion at the idea of going out to have fun with her mother.

"Never mind. You'll have hundreds of dates soon ... thousands of dates!" said Polly. She skipped and did a twirl as she swung the oven open and grabbed a pot holder to pull out the cookies.

"Would you girls like a cookie?" she asked gaily.

As it became clear to the media that they weren't going to get the front page story they were all hoping for, Bob's case faded into the background. Negotiations with Amalgamated were not concluded within the twenty-four hour deadline their CEO had stipulated. That's because, while the paperwork was being reviewed, Gus casually mentioned that this settlement did not include "the other matter" which was going to be filed separately.

"What other matter?" asked the head attorney for Amalgamated.

"The one where somebody in your company skimmed three hundred and thirty thousand dollars from your payments to Bob over fifty years and then committed a felony by cooking the books to cover it up," said Gus, smiling indulgently.

He happened to have the paperwork with him that showed quite clearly that no cost of living increases had ever been applied to Bob's payments. That, alone was almost prima facie evidence that something had gone wrong. Everything came to a halt as the Amalgamated lawyers left the room in a rush. It took almost another hour before they returned. The CEO was with them again, this time.

Riley Henderson got straight to the point.

"This should be an internal matter," he said. "I have identified the person who ... shall we say ... made the mistake. It will be corrected and Mr. Winkle's shortage will be paid to him. Doubled, in fact."

"That's a pretty expensive ... mistake," said Gus, smiling.

"How much?" asked Henderson, his voice tight.

"Fifty million, three hundred thirty thousand," said Gus, calmly.

"And you both sign a non-disclosure statement concerning the ... mistake?"

"Of course," said Gus. "As you said, perhaps this should be an internal matter."

"Done!" barked Henderson.

"But sir!" gasped the head lawyer.

"I said done!, snapped Henderson. "Get the new agreement prepared. I want to see it in two hours!" He turned to Gus and Bob. "Could you come back in two hours?"

Gus smiled, but only a small smaile. "We'll go get something to eat," he said.

The settlement was completed with an almost fanatical attitude of secrecy, in which Bob was required to not only never mention the fraud to any other person, but was also enjoined to keep the entire settlement secret. That was no problem, but when it came to the money, the company tried to give him only the $330,000 in cash, and set the fifty million up as an annuity, pointing out that any family ought to be able to exist on thirty or forty thousand a month. They would, of course, invest the remainder. Gus pointed out that they might actually make money on that deal, especially if Bob died for some reason. He also happened to have records showing that Amalgamated had paid out, on more than twenty occasions, insurance claims larger than the one Bob was involved in.

"Just pay the man," he said. "You want us out of your hair and we'd love to never darken your doorway again."

In the end, Gus got what he wanted. It really was easier to know their dealings with Bob Winkle would be permanently finished, and that news of a major fraud, committed by a fiduciary officer of the company would never become public.

The most humorous part of the whole deal was when someone asked Bob what account the money should be transferred into. He'd expected a check, and everybody in the room laughed when he asked about that. Electronic transfers were explained and Bob thought, for the first time since awakening, about bank accounts. He knew that his account with Valerie had been closed before her death. She had transferred the money in it to an account with only her name on it because that was easier. But Bob, when he'd gone to sleep, had a Christmas account at a different local bank, which was still in business. Inquiries revealed it was still active. It was in both his and Martha's names and had been completely forgotten by Valerie. There had been $15.25 in the account when Bob went to sleep. The bank, as banks do, watched over the money faithfully and the account now had $174.13 in it, fifty years later.

Since that was the only account Bob had, and since it was easier to use that instead of opening a new account and having to explain the situation, Bob simply gave them that number.

On a Thursday afternoon, in high summer, Bob had Betty take him back to Circleton. She had some things to do at home. He walked to the Circleton Savings and Loan ... just to check and make sure he was, in fact, a millionaire. He didn't want a fuss, and knew the chances were there would be, so he asked to speak to the president of the bank. That personage, he was told, was not available. He was home, recuperating from an illness. Bob was questioned closely when he asked for whoever was in charge, but refused to say anything except "I am a customer of the bank." He was shown into Tiffany Le'Fleur's office by a nervous employee, who kept glancing at an unusually alert security guard. Bob had had enough experiences with security guards, and the first thing he did was hand his 1950's era driver's license to Tiffany. She stared at it, went pale, and sat down. The security guard was at the door instantly, his hand on his pistol and Bob, ready this time, put both arms up in the air.

Tiffany gasped and waved frantically at the guard. "You will not be needed Frank." she managed. Frank looked worried and his glance went from Bob, with his hands still in the air, to Tiffany, who was standing again. When the wire had come in making the deposit that more than quadrupled the bank's assets, the place had gone crazy. Her boss, Myron, had "an episode of unusual excitement" as they were calling it, and was sent home. Tiffany had done her research and knew all about Bob. "Frank, come in here and sit down." she said firmly. She knew Frank well enough to know that he suspected she had just been handed some kind of threatening note. She thrust the license at him. "Look at this." she ordered.

Bob let out a soft sigh and straightened his arms even more stiffly above his head.

Frank edged into the room, keeping his eyes on Bob, and tried to keep doing that while he tried to read the license. Bob looked to see who was watching, and sighed with relief that the blinds were drawn.

"Shit!" said Frank as it finally sank in. He'd been involved in getting Myron out of the building when he had his breakdown, and had been clued in to the events that precipitated it.

"Can I put my hands down now?" asked Bob.

"Yes Sir!" said Frank, jerking his hand away from his sidearm. "I'm really sorry Sir," he said, sidling toward the door. It was just a little misunderstanding, Sir." he gasped. "I'll just go on about my business now Sir." He fled, pulling the door closed firmly behind him.

"Thank you," said Bob. "Security guards and I seem to affect each other like cats and dogs."

"Please sit down," said Tiffany weakly. "I'm pleased to meet you." she said helplessly. In her memory, the biggest depositor in the Circleton Savings and Loan had just over seven hundred thousand dollars in the bank.

"I don't want to be a pest," he said, "but I got a settlement from an insurance company recently and just wanted to check and make sure it got here."

"Oh, it got here," said Tiffany, able to breathe again. She sat at her desk and tapped keys on her keyboard. She then invited Bob to come around and look at the screen. His Christmas account now had a balance of $50,330,174.13 in it.

"Good," said Bob. "Do you suppose I could get some checks or something?"

Tiffany let out an emotional explosive laugh that threatened to turn into a full fledged boo hooing jag. The thought of what Myron had looked like as he was dragged babbling from the bank sobered her.

"Mister Winkle, believe me when I tell you, you can have anything you want." she said.

"I'm kind of famous," said Bob, glancing at her hand and seeing a ring indicating that she was married. He felt bad about assuming she had meant he could have her too if he wanted. "I'd sort of like to avoid problems with the public."

"I'll take care of everything myself," said Tiffany. "Would you like some coffee or something while you wait?"

"I'm fine," said Bob. "Thanks."

Tiffany scuttled out of the door, closing it behind her. There was a discreet knock and Frank stuck his head hesitantly in the door when it opened.

"Uh ... I sort of forgot this." he said, handing Bob's license back.

"No problem," said Bob, smiling.

"Uh ... I've got a kid at home ... do you suppose I could get your autograph for him?" asked Frank, blushing.

"Sure," said Bob grinning. He got up and went to Tiffany's desk where he'd seen a pad of note paper. He took a pen from an ornate holder and signed his name with a flourish. He dated it and handed it to Frank and said "Tell him to take care of it. That's the very first autograph I ever signed."

"Wow," said Frank in awe. "Thanks!"

Bob only had time to look at some of the motivational posters on Tiffany's wall before she was back with a leather checkbook cover in her hand.

"These will get you started." she said breathlessly. "We have your address and you'll get several more boxes of checks in the mail. Feel free to have your accountant contact me to make arrangements for business checks or whatever you need."

"Thank you," said Bob, smiling.

She handed him a small rectangular card in a little paper sleeve.

"I went ahead and opened a credit card account for you. It's our bank card."

Bob pulled the card out of the sleeve and looked at it.

"What do I do with this?" he asked.

Tiffany swallowed as she realized they hadn't had credit cards when this man went to sleep. "You present it for purchase and the vendor takes it as if it were money. Then they charge the bank directly for the purchase, and you pay us back later."

"So I can only use it once?" asked Bob.

Tiffany stared at him.

"You said they take it from me like it was money," said Bob.

Tiffany blushed. "No, that's not what I meant. There's a machine that can read the card and it takes the information and charges it to your account. Then they give the card back."

"Oh," said Bob, "So I don't want to leave this lying around."

"Oh no!" said Tiffany, beginning to think she was talking to a seven year old. "You need to be very careful who you give this to. It should only be someone you trust."

"I think I'll just write checks," said Bob trying to hand the card back to Tiffany.

Tiffany grunted in frustration. "Look, hold on to it for a while. Some vendors don't like to take a check and you might need it. Just be careful with it and don't lose it. If you do lose it please call us right away. okay?" she asked hopefully.

Bob looked at the card doubtfully, but then slid it in his pocket. "Okay." he said.

"Is there anything else?" she asked anxiously. "I could introduce you to Bob Pryor, he's our investment counselor."

"I don't know too much about all this banking stuff," said Bob.

"He could help you set up investments so you could make more money," said Tiffany helpfully.

"I think I have enough money," said Bob wryly.

Tiffany was shocked. You could never ... ever ... have enough money. Everybody knew that. The shine on her view of Bob was dimmed a little more.

"Well, have your money manager contact us then. I'm sure we can work with him to your satisfaction on CDs, IRAs, mutual funds, money markets or anything else you might be interested in." Tiffany put on her best completely fake smile.

Bob nodded, noticing that the smile did not go to her eyes.

"Sure thing." he said. "Thanks again."

"Thank you, mister Winkle," said Tiffany again.

Bob decided to get out of the bank before anybody else fell all over themselves to thank him for something. He'd have to ask Martha what the hell a money manager was. Why would someone need to manage money? You either had it, or you didn't. He knew all about paying bills at the end of the month, but that didn't take anything special. You had a budget and you tried to stay within it. He was an accountant, and knew about stocks and bonds, but what was a money market? Was that someplace you went to buy money? Why would anybody want to do that? He had a sinking feeling that being rich wasn't going to be as easy as he'd thought it would be.

He went back to Betty's house and browbeat her into taking him to the DMV so he could take the test and get a new driver's license. He was tired of having to be taken everywhere. He was also thinking about buying a car of his own. His '38 Desoto, a hand-me-down from his father when he got married, was long gone.

When Betty saw the line at the DMV she said she was going to walk back home. She had laundry to do and didn't want to wait.

"If you flunk the test, call me and I'll come get you." She grinned, but wasn't worried.

Oddly enough, the only trouble he had at the DMV was from the overly chipper lady who asked for his old driver's license. When he presented it, she got suspicious, then surly. Bob didn't want to make a scene, but when he found out she intended to keep the license - "Old licenses are forfeit to the State upon renewal" she quoted from the law - he snatched it out of her hand. It was one of the few things he had from the days he remembered best. The no longer chipper lady got demanding and then downright intractable when Bob refused to surrender the license.

Finally a supervisor came over to see what the hubbub was about. Miss Chipper, who Bob now thought of as "The old battle axe" started quoting rules and regulations right and left. Her crowing blow was supposed to be that, according to his "previously issued license" his date of birth put him at seventy-five years old, which, of course, required a doctor's release for him to continue driving ... which, she pointed out ... he did not have.

The supervisor looked at Bob and said "Hey, I know you." The supervisor, an old broken down CHiPs officer waiting for retirement took Bob out himself. He basically had Bob drive around for half an hour while they talked. For the first time, being famous worked out for Bob. He left with his old license and his new one after enduring a lecture from Miss Chipper, who had now been renamed Miss Pouter, on how he must never ever present the old license as identification from this point on.

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