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Subject: {Kellis} "Wet Nurse" ( FMF)
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Wet Nurse
--a story by Kellis, Copyright 1999;  Comments to kellis@dhp.com

    "Losing a babe is hard, Jill.  How can you bear up so well?"
    The two women were standing at the foot of the sickbed.  Enough light
leaked around the cloistering drapes for them to see each other without
disturbing the sleep of the convalescent patriarch.
    The speaker patted the other's arm in sympathy.
    Jill shrugged, pushing back a strand of chestnut hair that had escaped
her bun.  "'Bear up,' Martha?  As if one had a choice!"
    The dark brunette continued earnestly, "I lost one myself, and it
nearly ripped out my heart.  I think it's wonderful that you can be so
fatalistic."
    "But your little girl was almost five.  In my case --  You knew my
first babe died, didn't you?"
    "No, I didn't.  You've lost two?"
    "At five your poor daughter was a person, but my two boys were still
babes.  Andy was only two months.  So many babies die in the first year.
I've learned to hold some part of my feelings back at least until they can
talk."  She smiled slightly.  "Fortunately I have two talkers running over
the hills with your Bob as we speak.  They talk enough for four."
    Martha smiled more indulgently.  "Girls though they are, I doubt they
outtalk my Bob.  It's interesting, don't you think, that only your girls
have survived and only my boy?"
    "So far.  If this war ever ends we'll both make more, I expect."
    Martha glanced at the recumbent figure.  He had ceased to snore some
time ago but the heavy breathing was regular.  "Do you ... enjoy that,
Jill?"
    The chestnut's eyes flashed.  "Should I know what you mean, Martha?"
    The brunette recognized a twinkle and licked her lips.  "I heard James
and you in the summer house one evening last June -- mostly you."
    "Did you!  I think that's when I conceived poor Andy.  If you heard
me, you know the answer to your question."
    "I'm so glad for you ...  Though at the time I thought you in agony at
first."
    "That, too, Martha!  Have you heard it expressed that a 'man possesses
his woman?'"
    "I believe so."
    "That's how it was.  James possessed me, every part of me.  My only
wish was to help him do what he wanted, get what he needed, give all he
had.  Such times are the most wonderful experience in life."
    Martha's eyes widened.  She took a deep breath.  "You speak as if they
were common."
    "No, not common.  'Twere common, they could hardly be wonderful.
Surely you know them, too!"
    "Well, I ... know of it.  In the summertime I've overheard the serving
women through open windows."
    "Here at Georgewood?"
    "Yes, in my youth.  I shouldn't tell you this, but it's not so bad to
hear of a boy.  Our mother whispered that James caused most of that
noise."
    "I don't doubt it."  Jill grinned.  "If we were cattle, he'd be a
prize bull."
    Martha sniffed past her smile.  "My brother, the bull!"
    Jill remarked complaisantly, "I'm certain he put the babe in my
maidservant, though she won't admit it."
    "My god!  You don't mind?"
    "Not really.  He'll not run off with a servant.  And he doesn't
neglect me.  Four babes in five years is my evidence."
    The brunette shook her head.  "You're such a strong person, Jill.  I
admire strength.  You're the right wife for James."
    "Thank you, Martha.  You're a dear sister."
    "In-law," the brunette corrected.  "James is strong, too.  Far
stronger than I."
    "Of course."
    "I refer to his personality in this case."
    "Are you so weak?"
    "In comparison.  Though I am a year older, he pestered me as a child
until I gave in to his demands."
    Chestnut eyebrows rose.  "'Demands,' Martha?"
    The brunette smiled self-consciously.  "Not as bad as that, Jill.
Fortunately we were too young."  The smile vanished.  "Else he might have
been just that bad."
    "How bad was he?"
    "I permitted him to compare us intimately."
    Jill studied her sister-in-law.  Slowly she smiled.  "How old were
you?"
    "Ten and eleven.  Of course we were still ignorant as babes.  I didn't
appreciate the significance of what happened until much later."
    "What happened?"
    "His thing ... stuck straight out."
    "And you touched it, of course."
    "I ...  Jill, I have never spoken with anyone of this, not even
James."
    "What did you do?"
    "We did a most thorough comparison.  In fact ... your analogy of
cattle is singularly appropriate.  I played ..."
    The chestnut's blue eyes definitely twinkled now.  "His calf?"
    The brunette flushed, nodding.
    The twinkle became a chuckle.  "He still loves that game."
    "Does he!  Do you mean that you ..."
    "Routinely."
    "But ... he is hardly a child!"
    The chestnut chuckled.  "Hardly."
    "But a grown man makes such ..."
    After a moment the chestnut asked, "Were you about to say 'an
effusion?'"
    The brunette retorted dryly, "I was about to say 'a mess!'"
    "It can be done tidily."  Jill cocked an eyebrow at her sister-in-law.
"I don't believe you never served a grown man so."
    "Well, of course ...  I suppose that every husband demands it."
    The chestnut grunted.  "Who waits for a demand?"
    Martha's eyebrows rose.  "Do you mean that <you> initiate it?"
    "Why not?  It causes him to return the favor immediately."
    "'Return the ...'  Oh!"
    "James has admitted making the servants squeal thus."  The chestnut
smiled reminiscently.  "Heavens, he makes <me> squeal!  He's learned to
wield his wicked tongue just --  But this is interesting, Martha.  Thank
you for your disclosure.  I begin to believe that incest is common in all
families."
    The brunette studied her companion.  "Including yours?  But you had no
siblings."
    "Perhaps not, but my father's sister bore eight, four after the death
of her husband."
    "I knew that.  Are you suggesting ..."
    "Why do you think there was no scandal?  My father simply wouldn't
permit it.  He raised Aunt Vera's children as his own along with me.  As
well he might."
    "I admired your father.  <There> was a strong man!"
    "Yes.  Unfortunately not stronger than a cannon shell."
    "This damnable war!"
    "Do you have any news beyond the battle for Peregrine?"
    "Only that our losses were frightful, and when the fighting --"
    "Lula!"  A husky voice rose weakly from the far end of the huge bed.
    Martha broke off in the middle of her sentence and hurried forward to
lean over the recumbent form.  She spoke in soothing tones, "Lula is ill,
Father, and can't come."
    Toward her on the fluffy pillow turned a curly white beard, parchment
skin with patchworks of wrinkles at eyes and forehead, and watery blue
irises set in unblemished whites beneath incongruously black eyebrows.  A
thinning mane of white hair spread around the face.
    "Ill?" the quavering old voice repeated.  "How can she be ill?  She
wath thpry enough thith morning."
    Martha glanced at Jill and sighed.  "I told you he'd not understand."
Back to the old man she continued patiently, "She suffered an accident
that seems to have hurt her back.  She won't leave her bed."
    "If I don't underthtand it'th becauthe you tell me nothing.  What kind
of accident?"
    "A ... fall, I believe."
    The old man grunted contemptuously.  "Clumthy wench!  You muth call on
Clemmie."
    "Clemmie?"
    "Before <I> have an acthident!"
    "Clemmie was sent to the village, Father.  She'll be gone another
hour."
    The old eyes glared.  "I cannot wait an hour -- nor even ten minuth."
    Martha squared her shoulders and raised her chin.  "Father, <I'll> do
it."
    "You will not!"
    "I'm sorry, Father."  She sighed heavily.  "If you miss the jar, you
can hardly lie in ... <it> until Clemmie returns.  It is I who must sponge
you off and replace the sheet and your night shirt.  Please don't balk me
on this."
    The old man grunted again but said nothing further.  The woman
retrieved a quart mason jar from the floor, clambered onto the high bed
and worked it under the covers toward his midsection.  After a moment's
fumbling she came to rest, kneeling, both hands under the covers.  She
blew a fallen strand of dark hair from her eyes and shook her head in mild
exasperation at Jill.  "All right," she announced.  "It's ready."
    "I felt you!" the old man confirmed testily.  A moment later he
breathed a long sigh of relief.  His eyes drifted closed and many wrinkles
smoothed as tension left his face.  Martha said conversationally to Jill,
"Mr. Mason's invention has many uses, but a tin cup might serve better for
this."
    "Why?" asked the chestnut.
    "Because one could hear the progress."
    "But with a glass jar you can <see> it!"
    "Oh, Father would never allow that!"
    The old eyes flew open again and peered toward the foot of the bed.
"Who'th there?"
    Martha rolled her eyes.  "Father, this is James' wife, Jill.  You've
known her for years.  She's come to stay with us while James is away."
    "Jill," muttered the old man, staring at the chestnut woman, who
curtsied and intoned, "At your service, Father Westry."
    The old lips stretched in an attempted smile.  "Tho Jameth had the
thenthe to marry a looker!"
    "Father," exclaimed the daughter in tones of disgust, "don't pretend
you never saw her before!"
    "How can I tell if I ever thaw her before?"
    "Well, of course --"
    "Thith room ith too dark to thee my own hand if I could raith it."
    Martha's lip curled.  "It's light enough for you to admire her looks.
Are you quite finished?"
    The old eyes, previously fixed upon Jill, seemed to turn inward.
"Almoth ...  One more squirt.  There!  And don't forget to shake it off."
    The woman's eyes grew round.  "Shake it off?"
    "Work the forethkin.  You muth watch when Lula doeth it."
    Jill grinned slightly.  Even in the dim light a flush had appeared on
her sister-in-law's face.
    Martha demanded, "Is that enough?"
    The old man's eyes had returned to Jill.  A matching grin was evident
behind the beard.  "Do it more," he ordered.
    Martha sniffed.  "I cannot believe you need it more!"
    But she remained in position.  The bedcovers trembled.  The old eyes
glittered on Jill's.
    Suddenly Martha snatched one hand away.  "That <is> enough!" she
cried, glaring at the old man's face.  She brought the mason jar forth
more carefully and held it up for inspection.  It was nearly a quarter
full of urine.  "You did well, Father," she conceded.
    "Told you it wath urgent," he said, still grinning.
    Martha got down from the bed, careful of the jar, found the lid and
breathed easier when it was screwed down tightly.  She stood beside the
bed, contemplating her patient.  "It's almost time for luncheon, Father.
Will you eat a bowl of broth?"
    "No.  Bring me a glath of port."
    "Have you forgotten?  The doctor permits you to have port only at
night."
    "Damn the doctor!  He'th the reathon thith room ith clothed up dark
ath midnight.  Jill, open thoth drapeth!"
    "It's dark so you can sleep," Martha protested.
    "Thleep!  I'll thoon thleep forever.  Jill, open them, pleath.  Thath
a good girl."
    The chestnut shrugged.  "Obviously you're not sleepy."  She went to
the nearest window and threw back the heavy drapes.  A bar of brilliant
spring sunlight fell across the bed, making all eyes blink.  Jill
returned, now to the opposite bedside from Martha.  The old man cocked his
head up at her.  The bright backlight turned the hair that escaped her bun
to reddish gold, reflecting on the creamy skin above her low cut summer
gown.
    His eyes narrowed.  "I do remember you."
    "Of course you do, Father Westry.  You and I opened the reel Christmas
last."
    "That we did!  How lightly you danced!  How thweetly you kith't!  I
wath jealouth when you left with Jameth."
    The woman laughed.  "Tell no one of that!"
    Martha cocked her head.  "What does he mean?"
    "I'm afraid I teased my father-in-law," Jill admitted.  "I always
wanted to be an old man's darling."
    The old face sagged.  "Now I'm jealouth of anyone who can dance with
you."
    Martha nodded.  "Of anyone who can dance, you mean."
    "Yeth."
    "Father, the challenge now is not to dance;  it is <to live>.  You
must tell me what you will eat."
    The old man sighed.  "Bring whatever you have.  It'th all only
thalt-water anyway."
    "You liked the honey and cider.  Will you try that after the broth?"
    "You are out of honey."
    "Oh, that's right.  The cider, then?"
    "Bring it."
    She raised her face to the backlit chestnut.  "Will you keep him
company?"
    "Of course."
    "I appreciate it.  I must empty this and make a tray.  I am learning
just how much we depended on Lula."
    She came around the bed and hugged the chestnut with her free arm.
"We are so fortunate that you could visit."
    "I'm glad that you need me, Martha."
    The brunette turned away and crossed the large room, bearing the mason
jar.  Hinges squealed as she opened the door.  When it had thumped shut,
Jill sat down on the edge of the bed, concentrating on the haggard face
before her.
    She asked, "What in the world happened to you, Milton?"
    "What have they told you?"
    "Of course James and I heard of the fall from your horse and the
broken leg, but this ..."  Her gaze upon him, propped up on pillows, cover
raised to his shoulders, conveyed her astonishment eloquently.  "Your hair
and beard are snow white in less than two years."
    He nodded.  "They didn't tell you the wortht.  I broke my fool neck."
    "Your neck!  But isn't that ..."
    "Fatal?  Usually.  If you believe the doctor, I'm a very lucky man.
I'm paralythed from the neck down, with no feeling in armth and legth, but
at leath I'm thtill here!"
    "Oh, Milton.  How terrible!"  Her cool hand reached out and stroked
his forehead.  "Cut down in your prime!  What do they say?  Will you
recover?"
    "They thay I'm too old."
    "How old is that?"
    "Thikthty."
    She repeated his word exactly.  "'Thikthty.'  Does a broken neck cause
such a terrible lisp?"
    "Not directly.  That part ith funny.  My falth teeth fell out and the
horth thtepped on them."
    "Stepped on them!"  She covered her mouth.
    "Ith all right!  Go ahead and laugh.  God knowth, I do!"
    "Why haven't you bought another set?"
    "Did buy them!  Can't thtand to wear them.  Only dethent dentith in
the county'th gone to war."
    "To war!" she snarled.  "How I hate that word!  Does that bear on the
reason James and I weren't told of your ill luck?"
    "I would not dithtract him, Jill.  What he doeth ith too important."
    "His family is very important to James!"
    "Egthactly."
    She nodded.  "I see.  Very well.  I know about it now, and I can help
you.  Your new teeth need to be ground to fit.  You may find this hard to
believe, but I can do that.  My father was older than you.  I helped him
with his false teeth.  I'll send for the tools today."
    His eyes lit.  "That would be wonderful!  If I could eat a dethent
meal ..."
    "What <are> you eating?"
    "You heard Martha.  Broth, thtrained thoup, thalt-water.  I love
honey, but ith not yet in theathon."
    "I can help you there, too.  Milton ..."  She took a deep breath.  Her
eyes narrowed purposefully and she added almost under her breath, "James
always says, 'Damn the conventions.'"
    "Perhapth a little too readily?"
    "I don't think so.  His string of victories suggests otherwise."
    "Yeth, but don't dithcount luck."
    "He believes in making his own luck."  She cocked her head at him.
"Martha says you're dying.  She's resigned to it.  The doctor gives you a
couple of months.  You certainly will if you don't eat."
    "When you fikth my teeth --"
    "We daren't wait for that.  Milton, why didn't you possess me
Christmas last?"
    He stared at her.  His eyes softened.  "Becauth you were my thon'th
wife.  I couldn't betray him."
    She nodded.  "We thought that was it."
    "'<We>?'"
    "James remembered us together before he passed out.  He asked me what
happened.  I told him."
    "You <told> him!  Everything?"
    "Everything:  where you put your hands, where I put mine."
    "Good god, Jill!  What did he thay?  Should I fear hith homecoming?"
    "He actually sympathized with me.  He accused me of cold feet."
    "Accuthed <you>?"
    "He claims that in gentle company the woman controls subsequent events
once they have gone so far."
    The old man stared at her and slowly shook his head.  "It wath hard,
but <I> wath the one who walked away."
    "Because I let you."
    "You <let> me?"
    "I sensed your embarrassment."
    "My god!"  The old eyes burned upon hers.  "He taunted you with it?"
    "Taunted?  Not at all.  He knows my lustful nature very well, Milton."
    She took a deep breath and seemed to change the subject.  "My fourth
child, your third grandson, Andrew Currin Westry, died just five days
ago."
    "I'm thorry, Jill.  I hadn't heard."
    "I suppose not.  He only lived seven weeks and I'm sure Martha wishes
to spare you ill news.  I'm telling you so that you'll see how you and I
can do ourselves a favor."
    The old eyes narrowed.  "How did he die, Jill?"
    She sighed.  "I don't know.  He developed a high fever in the evening
and was dead in the morning.  Our doctor is of course gone to war.  At
least he might have put a name on it.  I brought my girls here in hope of
avoiding the infection, if any should arise."
    "Thith wath four dayth ago?"
    "Yes."
    "Then your ... breath muth be killing you."
    Her eyebrows rose.  "My breath?"
    "Damn teeth!  I mean your bubbith."
    "Oh, god, they are!  I have bound them up, but they ache terribly.
I've not had a good night's sleep since ...  Can you ... will you help me
with them, Milton?"
    The man's mouth fell open, exposing a pink orifice in the midst of
white beard.  She chuckled slightly.  "Now, Milton, are you truly so
shocked as that?"
    His tongue appeared, licking his lips.  "What I am ith drowning."
    "Drowning?"
    "In thaliva.  I know the thweet flavor of human milk."
    Her eyes sparkled.  "Then you are hungry!"
    "Thtarving!"
    She nodded.  "I suspect that is only too literally true."  She sat up
stiffly.  Deft hands behind her opened the buttons of her dark gown, which
fell to her waist.  A camisole went over her head.  She untied two tag
ends on her chest and unwound the binding linens, letting them fall to the
bed.  Her breasts appeared at last, heavy and full, thickly veined, thin
beads of milk already standing out on the freed nipples.  She spun around
on the bed, settling her back against the pillows beside and above the
man's head, presenting the nearer nipple to his mouth.  He closed on it
avidly.
    The flowing milk actually hummed as it departed her.  She grimaced at
the exhibited power, so much greater than a babe's mouth, but within
moments her expression relaxed into the sag of relief.  "Oh, god, Milton!"
she breathed.  "You can never know how good this feels."
    After a bit she giggled.  He raised his eyebrows questioningly.
    "When James does this, he cannot resist biting just enough to annoy
me.  It may be unconscious;  more likely he does it in the belief that it
titillates me despite my protests.  You demonstrate that the absence of
teeth can be an advantage.  Not so a beard.  It tickles!"
    They lay in quiet contact until he had drained the one breast.  She
said, "I hope you're still hungry, Milton.  I have another that aches just
as bad."
    "Oh, god, oh, yeth!  Jill, you marvelouth creature!"  He licked stray
drops from his beard.
    Chuckling, she rose up and crawled across him, assuming a similar
position to present the other.  He attacked it with equal vigor.
    She frowned.  Her hand went to his forehead.  "You're perspiring, you
poor thing!  This is a warm day in May but they have you covered for
January."
    She pulled off the blankets, leaving only the top sheet in place over
his body.  "There, isn't that better?  Hold!  What's this?"
    Her hand slipped under the sheet to a tented peak previously covered
with blankets.  She felt him quiver at her touch.  She said wonderingly,
"I thought you could feel nothing from the neck down.  No!  That's right.
You told Martha ...  She grasped you here, didn't she?"
    The bearded head nodded without releasing her.  "My god, Milton, you
are certainly still a man in this part!  Can you ... feel with it in the
normal way?"
    Again he nodded.
    "How interesting!" she breathed.  "Though how can you be sure?  When
you have emptied me, perhaps we can find a way to test it.  That is, if
you wish."
    He nodded vigorously, causing her to laugh.
    They enjoyed their very companionable silence only another minute
before the squeaking door hinges announced Martha's re-entry.  "I'm sorry
I took so long --" she began but broke off upon approaching the tableau on
the bed.  Both man and woman had twitched at the first squeak, but neither
had man relaxed his mouth nor woman the arch of her back.
    Jill forced a smile.  "As you see, we found a way to pass the time."
    Martha stood at the foot of the bed, eyes wide.  A hand rose to her
mouth.  "You ... you're ..."
    "Feeding Father Westry," Jill finished for her.
    The brunette hurried around the bed and clambered to her
sister-in-law's side, hugging her about the waist, laying head on her bare
shoulder.  "Oh, Jill, I'm so glad!"
    "G-glad?"
    "I wanted to ask you to do it.  I knew your breasts were hurting you.
I just couldn't find a way ...  Oh, Jill, I love you!"
    Jill withdrew the arm that had been fondling the man beneath the sheet
and hugged the brunette in return.  "And love your father, too, I see."
    "Oh, yes," Martha declared.  She raised up to study the man beyond the
swollen breast.  "Is he taking it well?"
    "He has nearly emptied the both."
    "Oh, good!  Oh, this is wonderful!"
    Jill chuckled slightly but her face showed curiosity.  "You <wanted>
me to suckle him?"
    "I know about wet nurses.  I have even served as one."
    "Have you indeed!  Who was the man?"
    Martha shook her head.  "I'm not brave as you, Jill.  It was an old
woman who had served my grandmother.  I fed her several times after the
loss of my girl."  She smiled indulgently at the watching man.  "How is
this meal, Father?  Does it compare to the sexton's honey?"
    The man closed his eyes blissfully.  His mouth continued to work.  She
reached out and stroked his cheek tenderly.  "My big babe," she murmured,
"how sweetly you must suckle!"
    "This is no babe!" Jill declared.
    "His mouth is larger, I admit," Martha responded fondly.
    "And this, too, belongs to no babe," Jill added, slipping her arm
between them to pull the sheet below the man's hips.  He was still erect,
foreskin withdrawn from the crimson head.
    "Oh, Lula takes care of that," Martha retorted after a single glance.
    "Lula!" Jill repeated, cocking her head to stare at the man.
    "Yes, Lula!"  Martha's tone expressed vexation.  "Too well.  That's
what took so long.  I got the truth out of her."
    The man released the nipple at last.  "What did she thay?" he
demanded.
    "It's her back, all right, and front, too.  She's missed her courses
twice."  Martha sat up in the bed, eyes narrowed on the man.  "I don't
suppose you noticed if she douched, did you?"
    "Douched?"
    Jill's hand clasped the erect organ gently.  "Still a man where it
counts, Father Westry!"
    "That's the strange part," Martha continued.  "She claims Father had
nothing to do with it."
    The man spoke up.  "Did she thay who <ith> the thire?"
    "One of the lieutenants we boarded in February."
    "Hith name, daughter!"
    "Ah, Ellington, I believe.  Harry mentioned that he was killed before
Peregrine."
    "Good!"
    "Father!"
    "I mean, ith good becauth the bathtard of a war hero dethervth
rethpect."
    Jill glowered, "And the man who falls in battle is automatically a
hero."
    "Ith true!"
    The brunette took a deep breath.  "Father, respect or not, I must know
if the child could be ours."
    "Athk her again."
    "I ... wish to ask you."
    "How can I know, when you've given her to passing soldiers?"
    "I said 'could be.'  Did you usually ..."
    The passage of time had moved the bar of sunlight across their bodies.
The brunette's blush flared like a flame in the brilliant light.
    The man demanded, "Did I what?"
    "Ejaculate within her?"
    "Ha!"  He stared into the distance.  "Within her, yeth, but not to
make a babe."
    Jill smiled as Martha's eyes widened.  "What do you mean?"
    "After the firth time, when you watched to thee me not hurt, I cannot
recall another dithcharge into her quim."
    "Well, if not ... where ..."
    The man frowned.  "Where do you think?  In her mouth, of courth."
    Martha sighed.  "Well, then, I guess ...  The first time was too long
ago."
    Jill glanced at her curiously.  "You sound disappointed."
    "I am."  Her eyes fell.  "I had hoped ...  Father was such a fine
man ..."  She glowered at him.  "Why always in her mouth?  Have you no
further use for women?"
    He shook his head.  "It wath her choith.  I wath grateful for any
attention whatever."
    "But I know she is a lustful woman!"
    "She ith," the old man agreed, smiling.  "If you notith, my tongue
altho workth well, and Lula ith even lathier than she ith luthful."
    "Lazier!  You mean she reversed herself on you ..."
    "Egthactly.  We tried oneth with me on top, but she had then to work
even harder."
    Martha snorted.  "I have taken my station outside this door numberless
times to give you privacy with her."  She glared at him before swinging
passionately to Jill.  "How I wish that a lady might curse!"
    The chestnut laughed.  "A lady can do anything she wishes.  But before
you waste ingenuity in devising acceptable oaths, let me make a
suggestion."
    Martha had sat up, releasing her embrace of her sister-in-law.  She
shook her head.  "It seems too late.  Clemmie's belly is too old."
    Jill's hand reached out and raised the half-wilted organ.  "But this
article isn't."  Her eyes burned into Martha's.  "Have you considered that
you have two other bellies available to you and still potent?"
    "Two other ..."
    "With advantages that not even Lula had.  These bellies pregnant would
produce no comment, being the property of husbands who take frequent
leave, as neither would a resemblance to Father Westry among their fruit."
    Martha's face paled as she stared into Jill's eyes, her own eyes
shifting from one to the other.  Jill inclined her head toward the
extended hand.  "You have touched this fine article barely enough to feel
it stir.  Did you never want it all over you, inside you?"
    "I ..."  Martha's pallor vanished before an infusion of pink.  Her
eyes turned to the indicated article, already stiffening.
    "Wait a minute!" the old man cried.  "What ith thith propothition?"
    Jill smiled dreamily at him.  "A reason for you to live, Milton, and
the means:  mother's milk for the fortnight until your teeth are fitted
and beyond if you wish, and two eager houris to beguile your waking
hours."
    Martha's hand joined the chestnut's.  "I've always wanted ..." she
murmured, voice trailing off in evident fascination.
    "Of course you have," the chestnut asserted.  "You've loved and
admired him all your life.  You've squirmed in his lap to feel this very
same staff rise under your bottom."
    "You know that, too!"
    "We all do it."  She chuckled.  "Fathers think of it as <their> guilty
secret!"
    "But I'm his full daughter."
    "Which makes it all the sweeter for you."
    "About to betray her husband."
    "Men define betrayal differently.  Attendance on your father will
hardly reduce availability to your husband, especially when he's gone six
weeks out of seven.  And when it's needed, I'll jigger for you and you for
me."
    "What if they take leave together?"
    "Then Lula may resume with her mouth."
    "My god!" Martha breathed, her eyes shining.  "My god, it'll work!"
    "My god indeed!" the old man said dryly.  "Do I get no thay?"
    "Of course you do, Milton," retorted Jill fondly.  "I depend on you to
say, 'This one is empty.'"
    Martha had leaned forward, holding the plum-headed staff now in both
hands.  She glanced away from it long enough to suggest, "Or 'slip down
just a little.'"
    Both women laughed heartily.  After a moment the man contributed a
contented smile while his tongue searched for a last drop of milk in his
beard.



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