Comments - and Part3 of the Serial

Looks like my idea for a contest died a horrible death.  Got a few entries that I'll publish later - and more promises than actual entries.  Did get one reader to give me permission to publish his short story - so that is one good thing to come out of it.

About my book?  I know that you're probably fed up reading about it - but thought I might give you a laugh.

My sales haven't ben that bad.  Not as good as I'd have wished - so I thought I'd have a proper look and see what was going on.  I'm anything but technical, but am at least aware of key words and meta words that they use on web pages and blogs - to get noticed by the big search engines.  That kind of thing.  Well? What I did was search for my book by topic, or category.  Could NOT find it.  Guess where it is?  Amongst titles that have "Walk" in the title!    Jesus Murphy!  Lulu files by (approximate) title.  I'm looking to find out what I can do - but so far, no luck.  Just shows what ignorance can do!

Another thing?  As far as I can determine, once the book price is fixed? That's that.  I wanted to be able to offer my blog readers a price break - but couldn't.  Now it appears that Lulu allows me to offer sales - just had two in two months - so what I'm thinking is this.  Do NOT buy a book or download of my book, unless you see a sale advertised on this blog.  I'll always post any sales that Lulu offers.

Okay, here's Part 3 of my current serial:

 

Real Husbands Don’t Cry

Part  3

"My MY!" she said.  "Is that a nice little erection I see?  Come here darling!"

Blushing, I did as she asked.  Then she took a gentle hold of my erection. "Can't let THIS go to waste, can we?" She was giggling now.  "You blush SO sweetly darling.  For some reason, I'm al randy as well. Let's go!"

And without letting go of me, she led me over to the bed where I'd pulled the covers back earlier on, then she laid me on my back.

"Yes! I think I like this!" she purred as she came down on top of me.

#     #     #

The following morning I was as quiet and sneaky as I could be.  I'd woken up happy and content, then blushed furiously as the events of the night before came into my memory.  It wasn't as if I'd done anything wrong – heaven's no!  But I wasn't overly happy about the role I'd played in our lovemaking.  I HAD to admit to myself that it had been wonderful, but I didn't want to think about it too much – and I certainly didn't want to face Joan so did my morning chores quickly before either woman was stirring, then left a note explaining that I'd just remembered an urgent task that needed doing at work and had left early to take care of it.

It wasn't until I was actually there, that I remembered that Helen, my boss, was due to come to our house for dinner that night.  Knew that I had to say something about that, then also remembered Joan indicating that she wanted me to start shortening my working hours.  It didn't take me long to figure out that I'd better broach the subject with Helen – it would be most embarrassing if I said nothing, then let Joan bring the subject up.  But as things worked out, I really had nothing to do with the whole thing.

"Hiya sweetie!"  Helen greeted me as she came into the office, then shouted a friendly 'good morning' at Rose, who was busy making coffee in the tiny little place that constituted our 'utility' room.  "Hear that I'm coming to dinner at your place tonight.  Gonna meet Joan's aunt Eileen?  How is she?"  She looked at me shrewdly.

"Lovely woman!" I stated emphatically.  "Has a delightful Scottish accent."

She looked at me even more searchingly.  Helen is, euphemistically, 'well built'.  Blonde with a cheerful disposition and head of a small, but growing, software institution, even though there's only her, myself and Rose in the office.  Always colorfully dressed and distinctly feminine in her outlook.  Loves those cord things that keep her glasses around her neck – she must have hundreds of those bloody things!  Makeup always in place.  But just in case you misread me?  Always a cold intelligence in the blue eyes behind her glasses, regardless of the smiling face she was presenting me then.  I've always felt more than a little intimidated by her.

So when she said.  "Got your coffee?  I think we need to talk before business starts to come in." I was a little nervous, but followed her into her office, where I sat in front of her desk, then laid my coffee cup on her desk.  She took a sip of hers, obviously thinking of what she was about to say.

"What's this shit about you cutting your hours?  Joan wasn't too explicit – but I understand it's what you want?  How come?"

My nervousness increased.  Was I supposed to tell her it was all MY idea?  But then I saw it – Joan had given me an out.  If I didn't take advantage of it I'd have to tell Helen that I was being bossed onto this position, and that I didn't want to admit a thing like that.  Male pride and all that – you know?

I toned my voice beautifully.  A hint of kindness and modesty.  Sighed.  "Helen?  You know Joan – right?"

She nodded.

"A bright, intelligent, woman who is striving to find herself!"

"Yeah?"

"And she's offered this job at the realtors!  Doesn't feel relaxed doing a job there and working to keep our home up at the same time!"  I put on a modest face.  "I can TELL what's going through her mind, and she was just on the point of refusing the job when I said that I'd help out!"

"Huh?  Help out in what way?"

I shrugged. "Take some of the load off her.  Housework.  That sort of thing.  Give her some time – that's the important point!"

"Like – mop floors?  Vacuum?  That sort of thing?" She had a strange look on her face.

"Well, not exactly those things precisely  – but you get my drift?"

She stared at me. "No.  Not at all.  You gay?  Some kind of fagot?  Likes to flit around doing housework?" 

I looked at her in horror.  "No Helen.  I'm not that way.  What did I say that gives you that idea?"  My mouth felt funny.

She took her time in answering me.  Took a few sips of her coffee as she thought of an answer.

"Steven?" She finally began. "You just don't seem aggressive.  Know what I mean?  There seems to be an element of effeminacy about you. No offense."

I shook my head.  "None taken.  But that doesn't mean I'm gay Helen!  I'm MARRIED for Chrissake!"

She stared before answering me.  "Being married has fuck all to do with it.  You know that, just as well as I do!"  She reached over the desk and took my hand.

"Steven?  I don't care if you're gay.  Honest!  There's just something about you and I must say that I've noticed it recently." She swished her curls.

I pulled my hand away and drew myself up.  "Helen?  I am NOT gay! Not swish, or anything else along those lines.  I just sense that my wife needs a little shove so that she can get confidence in herself.  If I have to help with the housework to move that along?  I'm all for it!"

"All for fem liberalization?"  She looked up at me as she asked this with a little sneer in her voice.

"I guess I am!"  I said loftily.

"Mmm."  She cocked her head and thought for a moment. "You telling me that you're a fem-libber?"

I was committed now, but there again?  What harm could it do?  "I guess that you could say that?"  I said even more loftily.  "I see no harm in admitting it!"

"Mmm."  She repeated.  "Not just for your wife?  For ALL women?"

"Of course!  What else?" I replied.

"Thank you Steven!" she said.  "Time to get back to work!  Saturday is tomorrow and I'd like the weekend off, so let's get on with the work, huh?"

I'd been dismissed, but somehow I had this feeling that I'd screwed up.  At the same time, I couldn't figure out why I had this gnawing feeling inside of me – so shrugged mentally and went back to my desk.  Called for Rose to come and freshen up my coffee.  Naturally, she was there quickly.

"More coffee Mister Steven?"

"Yes.  Thank you Rose!" I thanked her grandly.

She smiled – and damn near curtseyed!  I had a smile to myself.  There WAS something nice about having someone that deferential to you, then swallowed as I realized how close I had come to doing exactly the same thing for my wife!

"Something wrong sir?" She cooed.

"Oh no.  Nothing at all.  Why do you ask?"

"You just had a strange expression is all."

"I must have been thinking of something else Rose.  Off you go then!"

"Oh, thank you sir!" she murmured, then left.

About three o'clock that afternoon I got quite a surprise as Joan and Eileen came into the office.  Rose had met Joan before but got all fluttery and excited, even more so when Eileen was introduced to her.

"Don't look so surprised darling!" Joan said, giving me a kiss. "I've come to ask Helen if I can get you to leave early today."

"Any reason?" I asked.

She slapped my hand slightly and grinned.  "Silly!  Had you forgotten that we have company tonight?  I still have some shopping I want done and Eileen wants to ready the house and meal.  We both thought you'd like to give her a hand."

As I gulped in a sort of fright, I saw Helen come out of her office and bear down on us, smiling a welcome.  I wasn't sure if she'd heard Joan talk to me, but thought I'd better muddy the waters a bit – the way that Joan had presented it didn't make it look like MY idea.

"Oh?"  I managed.  "I've already talked to Helen about me helping you have time for the realty job.  Just didn't think it would be this quick – and anyway, we're kinda busy this afternoon?"

Helen came up to us, gushing out hello's to Joan, and being introduced to Eileen and they went through standard greetings.  I was sure that Helen had heard me and this was proved correct when she said to me.  "What's this about you being busy today?"

"Well, you said - and Joan thought that Eileen would like a hand – on top of that, I AM kinda busy with the Carmichael Software – there's a glitch in the sorting procedure and get my desk cleaned up for the weekend . ."

"Oh, you don't need to worry about THAT!" she said loftily.  "I'll give it to Rose.  She'd be just . ."

"Rose?" I laughed.  "But she can't  . ."

"Time she learned."  Helen said.  "You can leave any time you'd like Steven, but you don't need to leave just now Joan, do you?  It's been so long since we had a chat!"

Joan answered.  "Hey!   I'm just shopping for some clothes.  Just fooling around.  Steven can leave for home with Eileen . ."  She interrupted herself and addressed me. "I want my aunt to get used to our traffic, so want her to drive for a while. Okay darling?"

"But . . But . . But . ." I started.

"Oh stop it!  Just do as you're TOLD – would you?" Joan was very stern now, her patience obviously running out.

I wanted to complain, but saw Eileen out of the corner of my eye and she was shaking her head very slightly – a very obvious warning. So I swallowed and managed a sickly smile.

"Of COURSE darling.  I'll just take a moment and clean up this Carmichael . ."

"I wouldn't if I were you Steven."  Helen laughed.  "I think you'd better get on your hoss – if you don't want to piss Joan off any more!  I told you – I'll tell Rose what to do.  Just go on home with Eileen."  Her face was kindly, but there was no mistaking the sincerity in what she was saying.  I was her employee and she was making it obvious.

"Yes!  Come along dear!  Lots to do!" Eileen said.

Only Rose said goodbye to Eileen and myself.  Helen waved to her as she and Joan walked into her office, but now I was with Eileen as the two of us made our ways to my car.

"Can I have the keys please?"  Eileen asked me.

"Must I?" I asked plaintively, though I was handing them over as I spoke.

"Thank you."  Eileen said, taking them from me. ""Can we be seen here from Helen's office?"

"Yes.  Why?"

"I don't think you'll care for this too much Steve, but Joan's already given me some idea what she wants."  Eileen said this going around to the passenger side of the car.

"Don't know what you're talking about."  I said this, almost laughing.  "But you're not in the U.K. now.  That's the passenger side."

Eileen shrugged. "I knew that dear."  Then she opened the car door – and stood there, waiting for ME!

"Oh God Eileen!  No!" I said, realizing what was going on but reluctantly going to the car.

"Very good!" Eileen said as I slid into the car and she waited for me to get in before shutting the door behind me, and coming around to the driver side and letting herself in.

Once her door was closed, she spent the next few minutes, adjusting the seat and mirrors to her body size.  As she did this, she spoke to me.

"May as well get this over with Steven.  From now on, Joan doesn't want you driving a car – not ever!  You will always be driven – and you will always wait for a car door to be opened for you before entering or exiting a car."

"You MUST be kidding!" I spluttered.  "How can I get to work here?"

"I've to drive you to work, then pick you up when you're finished."

"But she's treating me like a woman!" I wailed.

"So?"  She started the car and we drove off.

I couldn't settle down, but we drove in silence for a while.  "She seems determined."  I said.

Eileen nodded. "It seems to me that she's getting that way.  Getting a much better idea of what she wants."

I shrugged helplessly.  "So what am I supposed to DO?"

She didn't take her eyes off the road.  "In a nutshell?  Whatever Joan TELLS you to do!"

I breathed through my nose.  "And where do YOU come in?"

"Don't shoot the messenger."  She said.  "You do what Joan wants – and what I want, because I'm passing on to you what she wants.  Is that clear?"

We were driving into the driveway.  Eileen used the opener and the garage door slid up in front of us. She drove in and parked, then killed the engine.  Looked at me.

"Steven?  Like it or not, you'll do as I tell you.  You don't like that,  DON'T do as I say.  But then, both you and I state our case in front of Joan.  After that, it's strictly between you and she."

She looked at me.  "Are we going to have trouble Steven?"

I sighed.  "I don't think so."  Reached for the car door handle.

"Leave that alone dear.  Let me get the door for you." She said, getting out of the car.

I blushed as I got started to get out of the car, after she had opened the door for me. "But you're the woman!" I protested helplessly as I started to swing my legs out of the car.

She held up a hand.  "Hold it!  Think you can hold your feet close together for me as you come out?"

"Huh?  Don't see why not – but do you have a reason?" I asked as I did as she said and exited the car, although as I got out it dawned on me that I'd just imitated a female getting a car door opened for her, and exiting.

Aw grief Eileen!" I remonstrated.  "What's all this in aid of?  Is it YOU that wants this stuff?"

"In this case, it is.  But I'll bet that if Joan saw you get into the car, she'll probably want you to do something like this from now on.  Okay?"

I got even redder as she closed the door behind me.

Once we got into the house she took a quick look at her watch. "Okay.  Jacket off.  Apron on.  We got a lot of stuff to get ready."  She started to take her own jacket off.

I stood stock still.  "I think I've had enough of this bullshit.  It just seems like it's never ending and I'm getting sick!  Really sick and tired  of . ."

She had hung her jacket up then turned towards me, shaking her head.  Then, as I was still speaking, she grabbed my arm and pulled.

It's not that she's awfully strong, but neither am I, and the surprise factor probably helped her to pull me easily to a nearby hall chair, where she simply sat down and – to my shame and horror – simply pulled me over her knees and spanked me on my bottom. 

It was all over so quickly, that apart from a squeal or two out of me, it was a silent operation  and took less than a minute before I was struggling to my feet.

"Don't you DARE cry!" She warned me, then added.  "I'm sorry Steven, but I can't have you complaining every time I tell you to do something.  I'm not some tattle tale that will report you to Joan for discipline every time you open your mouth, but I will not STAND for you being naughty. Now, do you want to put your apron on? Or do I spank you harder this time?"

Downcast and ashamed, I pulled an apron from its place and slipped it over my head.

"That's much better.  I want things to be pleasant.  Are you going to behave properly?" she said.

"You didn't need to spank me." I found myself whining.  "Wasn't necessary at all!  Caught me by surprise!"

"Aw shit Steve!  Is this you saying that I can't spank you when I feel like it?"  She wasn't mad, but there was a weary tone to her voice that disturbed me. 

"Well, no.  That's not it at all." I mumbled.

"Looks like we have to get this settled Steve.  Come over here and stand in front of me, will you?"

"I didn't mean anything Eileen.  Honest." I said, realizing that I seemed to have got myself in even more trouble.

She said nothing.  Just pointed in front of herself.  Meekly I went over.

She put her hands on her hips.  "Ask me to spank you!"

"Huh?"

"You heard!  Now ASK me!"

I could feel my heart beating in my chest at my subservient behavior, but now just wanted to get the humiliation over and done with.

"Will you spank me Eileen?" I asked, my voice trembling.

"Not if you ask me prettily.  Add 'pretty please – with sugar on it'?"

"Will you please spank me?  Pretty please with sugar on it?"

"Much better!  Same words – but with maybe a pretty curtsey? And you can call me mistress."  She added.

It only took me three attempts to placate her, using the same pleading words, but lisping like a little girl and curtseying deeply.  She finally relented.

"Feel like a man now?"

"No, mistress."

"Can't say that you act much like one either – curtseying and lisping while you ask to be spanked. You going to behave now?"

I blushed. "Yes mistress."

Her voice got friendlier.  "Think we can be friends – no more mistress shit – and maybe get some work done?"

"Yes Mist – I mean Eileen."

Eileen looked at her watch about an hour and a half later.  "I think we've done pretty well.  It's about five-thirty and I've no idea when Joan will be home.  Feel like a cup of tea and a biscuit – or do you say cookie? We probably won't eat until about eight, so it might be a good idea for us to eat something, even if it's only a little."

I nodded.  "Biscuit is okay with me.  I'm used to some of the British terms – Joan uses them now and then.  And yes – I'm all for a coffee if that's okay by you."

She seemed a lot more approachable as we sat over our tea and coffee, so I finally plucked up courage.  "Eileen?  Think you could tell me what's going on?  I'mstill  really confused these days."

She looked me straight in the eye.  "I don't KNOW, Steve."  She emphasized the word 'know', but then continued.  "But I think that I could make a very educated guess now.  A LOT better than I could last night."

"Would you mind filling me in?" I asked.

"I think that you already know dear, but if you want me to tell you what I think that Joan has on her mind?"

"Please."  I said.

"I'm repeating a lot of what I said last night, but have the feeling that you're ignoring the obvious so have to hammer it home.  You fell down in her eyes the night she beat you up.  Whether Joan wants to admit it or not, she has definite ideas of how male and female roles should be in a marriage.  Frankly?  I think that she's very fond of you – but she's starting to think that the masculine role in your marriage is what she wants.  That's about it."

I shrugged.  "Well?  Who's fighting her?  She's bossy already – so who's in the way of her getting what she wants?"

Eileen stared at me. "You haven't figured it out?  YOU are!"

"Huh?"

Her accent got thicker for a moment.  "Are ye daft?  If she's the man in the marriage – what does that make you?"

"I don't understand."

"Aw c'mon!  She s been treating you more and more like the woman of the house – and what have you done to stop her, huh? She's bought you nice aprons – that you wear without a murmur.  Has you cleaning up after her.  Now has you cutting back your work so that you can do even MORE?  Come ON!"

"It can all be explained. . ." I started.

"Brushing her hair last night in your bedroom? She was giggling to me about it today! She seems to LOVE you becoming more and more obedient.  Can't you SEE? She treated you like her personal ladies maid last night!  And she enjoyed every minute of it!"

"She told you?" I asked, offended by Joan's betrayal.

"C'mon Steve.  Do you think I'm an idiot?  I saw your behavior last night – and if that wasn't enough to make me wonder about your masculinity – or lack of same – I would have to have one eye blind and the other full of dirt not to see that if you weren't a sissy, you were rapidly becoming one!  Joan's only finding out what she wants – just like you are!"

"Me?"  I was indignant.

"You didn't have a hard on when she made you brush her hair last night?  Didn't enjoy being under her while you were having sex?  You're kidding yourself."

She paused.  "Maybe I am."  I said, but I still can't figure it out."

"Jesus Steve.  Let me get down to nuts and bolts.  Okay?"

"Think you can help?"

"Hope so.  You two have been married for some years now – right?"

"Yes."

"She was your wife.  Right?"

"I hope so."

"Looked up to you.  Gave up a decent job to stay and look after your house. Had your dinner on the table.  Made herself pretty for you.  Am I wrong on any of these things?"

"No.  That's pretty accurate. But she was never any kind of doormat."

"Didn't say she was!"  Eileen retorted.  "You were her husband.   She was your wife."

"Okay.  Okay!  No argument."

She continued.  "Laugh all you want, but she was brought up in a very macho society. She may have scoffed at it – and she did.  But it was an internal part of her belief. Men were the tough ones in a marriage.  A woman's job was to support him."

"Alright already!  I get the point!"

"Steve? The time for push becoming shove was the night she beat you up. If you had fought back?  Hurt her.  Held her hands and explained?  Any of those things.  But you didn't – even though you were in the right. You simply crumpled.  Admitted that she was the boss.  Since then, you've allowed her to convince herself that she IS. Now she wants to take her place as the 'husband' of the family."

"So?  I goofed.  But I want my place back!"

Eileen shook her head.  "You have your place sweetie.  You're her wife now.  I'm not sure how much she wants you to take over that role – but it's YOU that's the soft, weak, defenseless one.  It's YOU that's the homemaker. It's YOU that makes yourself nice and soft for HER."

I looked at her, and knew that she was telling the truth.  "But that's not what I want, Eileen.  Honest."

She shrugged. "Dear?  She's tougher than you now, and if I'm guessing right, just loves to take an opportunity to show it. You can go along and try to be her wife slowly – be needy and caring.  Give into her.  OR you can fight her and try to keep your male pride.  Up to you."

"What should I DO Eileen?  Please help me."

She stood up.  "Don't you realize it honey?  You're doing exactly what you should be doing.  Can't you see what a natural you are?"

"What do you mean?"

"You put that apron on.  Tie a lovely bow without a word being said, then help me to do the housework.  Don't have to be told a thing – just do what any girl would do under the same circumstances.  My only suggestion would be to make sure you run to her when she comes in and offer her a kiss.  Say how GLAD you are to see her.  How nice it is to have her home!"

"Like . .like . .like a  . . a wife?"

"Exactly!  Now c'mon honey.  Joan's had the meal all catered, but it's time we set the table – and there's some munchie platters I wanted to keep until last, so they'll be reasonable fresh for the guests when they have a drink."  She started heading out of the room. "Tidy away all of those dishes, will you dear?" she said to me as she headed into the kitchen.

"Sure."  I said to her retreating back as I got up and started clearing away, hardly noticing my apron swishing about me now.

I was helping her set the table a short time later, when I noticed something.  "Six? I thought that there was only the four of us.  Us three and Helen?"

Eileen was checking out the appearance of the room.  "Everything looks very nice dear – you've been a big help."  Then she thought for a moment.  "Eileen DID say who the other two was – but damned if I remember.  But lets get those veggie trays and that salmon platter ready – okay?"

Luckily enough, I was close to the front door when Eileen finally appeared about an hour later.  I say 'luckily' because I didn't have to walk over a large expanse of floor to welcome her.  KNEW that Eileen was taking in how I acted, but wanted to look as natural as possible.

"Well hello darling!" I smiled, going to her and offering my lips for a kiss.  "I'm SO glad to see you at last.  You're aunt has been driving me like a SLAVE!"

I wasn't swishy or anything like that, but my tone and actions were as close to how Joan had greeted me in the past, and I had to admit that I felt a trifle feminine -  but not embarrassingly so.

"Hello darling!" Joan said once she had kissed me then laid some parcels on the floor.  She had been surprised by my actions a little I think, but pleased because her eyes actually glowed.  "You two have been busy I see!  The place is SO neat and tidy!  Looks as if you've polished everything in sight!"

I couldn't actually help it!  I blushed.  "It was all Eileen you know."  I found myself twittering.  "She's the one that masterminded the whole affair."

"I figured that."  She said calmly.

"Oh, trust me!  Steven did very well!" Eileen said from back of us..

"Doesn't surprise me ONE bit!" Joan said.  "Seeing him in that apron?  He's starting to look positively at home!"  Then she looked directly at me, though I couldn't read her eyes.  "Tell me honestly Steve darling.  Don't you feel  . . just a  . . just a little.. strange wearing a pretty apron like that – sorta womanish?"

I lied, even though I felt my cheeks flush. "Well?  Not too bad!  But I can see the reasoning!  Protects one's clothes from all of the crap?  Makes sense!"

"So?  You don't MIND?"  She was inspecting me closely.  Eileen's words came to mind  and I managed to grin - albeit a trifle weakly.

"Ha ha!  Well – not really!"  An apron is SO functional – all of that good stuff.  You know?  I'm not really used to one for any length of time.  But it's SO practical!"

"You don't MIND?" She smiled at me.  "Let's face it.  Those aprons might embarrass someone else – someone who wasn't thinking correctly?"

End of Part 3