Names Have Power: Tim's Magic Voice Makes A Harem (7 page)

Chapter 13
Gothika’s Offer

It was almost lunchtime the next day when my phone
rang. Susan said, “Mister Hansen, there are two women here to see you. They say
it’s personal.” Lowering her voice, Susan added, “One of them is Jeanette
McAllister. I recognize her voice.”

I asked, “Does the other woman have black hair and
humongous breasts?”

“Yes and
definitely
yes,” Susan said. Then
she again lowered her voice and added, “And she’s looking at me like I’m a box
of chocolates. She’s already asked if I have a boyfriend.”

“Susan, for sure I’d love to hear the answer to
that myself.”

“I
had
a boyfriend. His name was Adlai. I
dated him because he supported my freeing myself from the shackles of male
oppression. But the other day, when I was getting my hair dyed blond? I
realized then, men like Adlai didn’t interest me anymore. He’s
too
liberated, you know? So that night, I broke up with him.”

Very interesting
, I thought. But aloud I
said, “Susan, go ahead and send Ashley and Jeanette into my office.”

Seconds later, the two strippers walked through the
door. Jeanette was dressed in pea-green clothing that was conservative. Well,
as conservative as a woman with long strawberry-blond hair, breast implants, an
athletic figure, and a pretty face could manage.

On the other hand, Ashley didn’t bother trying to
look sedate—
her
outfit was black skyscraper heels under a three-piece
outfit of black pinstripe wool that showed a lot of tit. (Perhaps because
Ashley
has
a lot of tit.) My guess was, her ensemble was part of Frederick’s
of Hollywood’s Don Corleone Collection.

“Me and Jeanette, we have a problem,” Ashley said. “With
you.”

Without being invited to, Ashley walked to the
chair facing my desk and sat down. Jeanette moved to stand next to her, her
hand on Ashley’s shoulder.

“Tell me the problem, Ashley,” I said.

Ashley glanced up at Jeanette. “Slave Jeanette is
hot for you. Beyond her sometimes getting the urge for cock, I mean.
You
,
she’s super-hot for. And last night, I realized I want Jen-Jen to be happy, and
it bugs me when she’s not.”

“I see. And Jeanette, what do
you
have to
say about what she said?”

“I can’t stop thinking about you fucking me,”
Jeanette replied. “I fantasize about me fucking you not because
she
orders me to, but because
you
order me to. And maybe I’m in love with
you.”

Ashley’s head whipped around. “You didn’t tell me
that.”

I said, “I’m flattered, ladies, I really am. But I
don’t understand, why is this a crisis? C’mon, surely Jeanette has had crushes
on guys before.”

“Not really,” Jeanette said, “not since I hooked up
with Ashley. Guys are all immature, wimpy, or bullshitters, truly. But you’re
the real deal.”

“You’re not interested in guys you meet at Nimfo
Club?” I asked.

Both women laughed. Ashley said, “Guys who come to
strip clubs are losers!”

“Really, Ashley? You met
me
at your strip
club.”

“Because Mike dragged you there. If you’d walked in
our door under your own steam, we wouldn’t be having this conversation.”

“So why are you two here, Ashley? What do you want
from me?”

The mobster-wannabee stripper answered with a
strange question: “How many bedrooms are in your house?”

“Two or three,” I said, my face showing my
puzzlement. “I have three bedrooms, but I use one as a home office, and I’d put
a bed in there only in an emergency. Why?”

“Jen-Jen wants to serve you, but also wants to
serve me; and I want Jen-Jen to be happy. So here’s my idea: I move my
queen-sized bed into an empty bedroom of your house, and Jeanette moves her
twin bed into your bedroom or wherever it’ll fit. Then you fuck her whenever
you want.”

“I’m sorry, but—”

“You haven’t heard the sweetener.”

“Go.”

“I pay you five hundred bucks a month, and I myself
give you two blowjobs a week.”

“Ashley, I like you, but right now you’re a
stripper
and a whore
. Being a whore means your phone ringing all the
time, and you coming and going a lot. Denied.”

“What about a thousand bucks a month, three
blowjobs a week, and I quit the hooking?”

Now it was Jeanette’s head that whipped around. “You’d
really stop?”

Ashley replied, “Why not? House is nearly paid for,
and it’s a bitch dodging vice-squad cops.” To me, Ashley said, “You still don’t
get to fuck
me
, but I figure you’ll survive. Oh yeah, three sucks a week
from me, plus Sarah and two slave girls fucking and sucking you whenever you
want? You’ll survive.”

Not to mention, a blowjob every morning from
Susan
, I thought.

“Do we have a deal?” Jeanette pressed.

I picked up my phone. “As soon as I bounce it off
Sarah,
maybe
we have a deal.”

I expected Sarah to blow a gasket—or at least to
pout and cry. Instead, she said, “My Tim the Honey Dick is becoming a real stud
muffin. Just save some for me, sweetie, okay?”

I hung up the phone and told my visitors, “I’ll be
home around six. You guys can bring stuff then.”

I walked my visitors out to Ashley’s pink Lexus,
then returned to my office. Susan stopped her transparent attempt at looking
busy as soon as I passed by her desk. She asked me, “Can I ask what that was
about?”

I shrugged. “Tonight I’ll have two more women
moving into my house.”

“Two
more
women?” Susan repeated, her
eyebrows shooting up.

“Uh, yeah,” I said, kicking myself. I hadn’t told
Susan about my unusual home life, lest she blast me with a feminist rant.

But instead, Susan smiled and nodded. “So long as
they’re not working for you, good for you.”

“Actually, they are. Remember the other girls in
the commercial? But Sarah and Deborah moved in with me before then.”

Susan lightly punched my arm and grinned at me. “Sounds
like you’re getting that harem you’ve always wanted.”

Realizing that Susan was right, I started getting
erect. Which Susan immediately noticed. “Oh, my poor boss,” she said. “I wouldn’t
be helpful if I left you distracted by a hard-on.”

So saying, she took me by the hand, dragged me into
my office, shut the door, and dropped to her knees. I got my second
Susan-blowjob of the day.

It’s good to be king.

Chapter 14
Ashley + Ashley + Ashley

That Monday, I announced at the end of the Morning
Meeting that I was taking the rest of the day off—my first day off since my
father’s heart attack. Susie offered to walk me to my car.

“You’ll never guess what I did this weekend,” she
told me.

“I give up.”

“I moved into a new apartment. Meadow Green
Apartments, number 262. Have you heard of them? They’re in the 119-hundred
block of Grant Drive.”

“I know them, they’re, uh, near the dealership.”
They’re
also less than five—

Susie clapped her hands. “
And
my new
apartment is three minutes from your house! I checked last night. So feel free
to drop in anytime, for coffee or … whatever.”

“Wouldn’t that be inappropriate behavior?”

She slapped my arm. “
No
, silly, not unless I
move into
your house
. But if you come to my apartment, I can give you a
hot, wet fuck anytime you want. That’s just acting friendly.”

“To put it mildly,” I said.

By now we were at my car. Which was parked next to
Susie’s car. Through the window glass of Susie’s car, I could see a small
cardboard box on the passenger seat. The box was filled with hardback and
paperback books.

“What’s with the books?” I asked.

She blushed. “I’m going to donate them to Salvation
Army after work.”

“What have you got?”

She blushed redder. “Nothing you’d want to read.
They’re books I’ve outgrown.”

I put up my hands. “Sorry, didn’t mean to pry. But
I’m curious, and your acting mysterious isn’t helping it.”

Without planning to, I’d said the magic words. Susie
pressed the button on her door-lock remote. As her car doors THUNK’d, she said,
“Please don’t think I’m still a bitch.”

Seconds later, I had her passenger door open, and I
was pulling books out of the box. I remarked, “You’re right.
The Politics of
Virginity
,
A History of Male Oppression
,
Genetics and Gender
Roles: A New Paradigm
, and
Castrating Bitches: A Manifesto
—none of
these books are what I would want to read.”

Susie now was blushing all the way down to her
throat. “Like I said, I’ve outgrown them. They all seem so
shrill
now.
And if feminism means that a woman is free to choose, can’t I choose to dress
sexy and give heart-stopping blowjobs?”

“No argument from me,” I said.

Less than ten minutes later, I stepped into my
house quietly, because I knew that Sarah and Slave Deborah had gone back to
sleep as soon as I’d left for work.

A little after ten in the morning, my doorbell
rang. It was Ashley and Slave Jeanette, ready to move stuff in.

They weren’t moving a lot in, basically clothes and
a bed each, so I didn’t expect them to show up with a moving trailer. And they
didn’t—instead, they showed up in the company of two young men and a pick-up
truck.

The whole time the two guys’ backs and arms were
working, the men wore horn-dog smiles and their eyes were ogling Ashley and
Slave Jeanette. And when a yawning Slave Deborah walked out of my bedroom,
wearing an oversized green t-shirt and nothing else, the movers’ grins got
bigger. (So did Ashley’s.)

When the mover-guys’ hands were free, I introduced
myself, stuck out my hand, and asked them their names. Seconds later, I was
asking, “So, Steven, Benjamin, tell me: What are you being paid for this?”

“We’re not sure yet,” Steven said. “Gothika didn’t
exactly
promise
anything, you know? Not specifically.” He looked
unworried.

Benjamin said, “But she
did
tell us that she
and Peachy would be
very grateful
if we’d help them out.” Benjamin’s
leer told me how he thought that the strippers’ “gratitude” would be expressed.

“Uh-
huh
,” I said. I left in search of my
newest roommates. I found Ashley and Slave Jeanette in my bedroom, talking with
Sarah and Slave Deborah.

“So, Ashley,” I said, “what are you planning to pay
Steven and Benjamin for their hard work and the use of their truck?”

Ashley smiled. “Ten bucks apiece at first, but I’ll
let them talk me up to twenty.”

“Really?
They
think they’re going to get
some kind of sex from you two.”

“But I didn’t
promise
them that. I didn’t
promise them anything. If they didn’t nail me down to a fixed payment before
they started, that’s their own fault.”

“Just so I’m clear, Ashley: You don’t intend to
give blowjobs, tit-fucks, or pussy-fucks to these guys? Neither yourself nor
Slave Jeanette paying them with sex?”

Ashley smirked. “Please! Aren’t I a lesbian?”

I frowned. “Ashley Baker, I’m keenly disappointed
in you. You led those guys on, using carefully chosen words and tone of voice
and body language to promise those guys sex in so many words, making promises
which you had no intention of keeping. Lesbian or not, what you did was vile.”

A moment ago, Ashley had been smirking; now she
looked ready to cry. “I am so sorry! What should I do?”

“Didn’t you tell me that up till yesterday you
charged seventy-five bucks?”

“For a plain-vanilla blowjob, yeah.”

“Then give each guy a refund for the blowjob he
doesn’t get. Pay them seventy-five apiece, Ashley.”

Ashley should have argued a blue streak. But thanks
to my Power, she didn’t argue; instead she hung her head and said, “That sounds
fair.”

Being the sultan of a growing harem doesn’t stop my
grass from growing. After Ashley and Jeanette unpacked their stuff and we five
toasted the move-in with Budweisers, I went outside to mow my lawn.

I cut the side yards and back yard first, because
that’s the easy part—my pool means I don’t have to mow as much. I had just
started on the front yard when Gothika sashayed out, a glass of pink lemonade
in her hand. I let the mower die.

“Hey, you
hard
-working man,” she said when
she got close. She reached into a pocket of her black denim miniskirt and
pulled out ten hundred-dollar bills, which she handed to me. She said, “Why don’t
you take a break and come inside now? I’ll fix you lunch. Then you can sit on
the couch and”—she licked her lips—“I’ll make sure you
enjoy
your meal.”

I said, “Nah, it’s getting hot. If I stop now, I’ll
be cooking my brain when I go back outside.”

Ashley said, “Then how about we go into the garage,
and I’ll tonsil your tool by your toolbox? Eight minutes max, guaranteed.
Please? I’ve never sucked cock in a garage before.”

“Why are you so hot-to-trot to suck my cock
right
now
?”

“Maybe I’ve suddenly realized how incredibly
attractive you are, hmm?”

“Ashley, Ashley, Ashley. Don’t stand in front of me
and lie, not even for a joke.”

“Okay, fine,” she said. “After you went out to cut
the grass, I tried getting service from Jen-Jen. You know, to christen my new
digs? But
I couldn’t enjoy it.
All I could think of was, `I promised Tim
a thousand bucks a month and three blowjobs a week, and I haven’t paid up yet.’
So I need to get square with you, so I can get my clit licked and enjoy it.”

“Uh-
huh
,” I said. “Ashley, wait till later
for that first one here. I’m not interested in getting sexy with you right now.”

“
Ahem!
” a man’s voice said, behind me.

I turned around. Standing on the sidewalk was “Brother
Simon” Effib, along with his wife and teen daughter. Brother Simon was giving
me a disgusted look.

“Brother Simon” owned a nicer house than I did. He
lived in a mansion that filled the cul-de-sac that was at the end of my street.

And you know how it is—some people think that if
they own a bigger house than you, or a nicer car, they’re a better human being
than you are. I was coming to suspect that Brother Simon was one of those
snobs.

Both Brother Simon’s wife and his daughter were
looking at me intently, which was strange.

If you’ve ever tuned in to one of those church
broadcasts, you know what the three Effibs looked like. Brother Simon had a
pompadour. His wife had bleached-blond and teased hair, well-selected but
understated makeup, and well-tailored and conservatively cut (but brightly
colored) clothing. The teen was dressed the same as her mother, making
allowances for age, and so looked like the poster girl for corn-fed wholesome
innocence.

“Mister Hanson,” said Brother Simon to me, “we’ve
noticed that several
flamboyant
women have moved into your house recently,
of which
she
is typical.” He pointed his chin at Gothika.

“Oh, you mean us
strippers
?” Gothika said. “Yeah,
there are four of us erotic dancers living with Tim now. Is that a problem?”

“`Is that a problem?’ Woman, this is a god-fearing,
tax-paying neighborhood that believes in Christian family values. We do not want
immorality here. More to the point, we do not want immoral women here!”

I interrupted him with “`We’ do not? Are your wife
and daughter mute?” I turned to look at them. “What say you two? Do you call
four women whom you’ve never met, `immoral’?”

“Because they’re strippers?” the daughter said. “I
honestly don’t know. But if I looked like your girlfriend, I’d be tempted to
find out after high school, how immoral a stripper’s life could be.”

“Ashley Lynn! Be quiet!” Brother Simon said.

“Just being truthful, Father. Part of me is curious
to know how much men would pay to see me naked. And I’m
really
curious
whether Mister Hanson would pay to see me naked.”

Gothika strolled up to the girl and looked her up
and down, as if Daddy wasn’t mere feet away and glaring. “Girlie, you have a
pretty face, and your legs are shaped nice, but you need to get `work’ done.”
Gothika hefted her giant tits.

“Silence, woman!” Brother Simon said. “Ashley Lynn!
Home, now!”

The daughter rolled her eyes, smiled at me, then
turned toward her house. As she walked away, she murmured, “Now I’ll
definitely
have to wait.” I had no idea what she meant by that.

Meanwhile, Brother Simon’s wife was saying, “I’m
torn. A big part of me does think that stripping is immoral. But I’m like
Ashley Lynn—part of me wants to know that Tim Hanson and other men would pay to
see me naked.”

“Ashley Sue, stop saying these ridiculous things!
Are you touched by Satan?” thundered Brother Simon.

“No, just being truthful.” She smiled at me, and
her smile was more like Potiphar’s wife than a minister’s wife.

Brother Simon pointed at his large house. “Ashley
Sue! Home! Obey me.”

Ashley Sue gave me another sexy smile, then turned
and walked home. Brother Simon didn’t notice, but I sure did: Ashley Sue was
walking away with a definite hip-sway.

Brother Simon stepped forward and shoved a finger
in my face. “See what you’ve done? These immoral women whom you’ve brought here
have brought moral decay with them.”

I replied, “Word of advice: Don’t wave a finger in
the face of someone who’s pulled more than his share of engines, unless you
plan to lose that finger.”

Not trusting myself further around this blowhard, I
turned my back on him, walked back to my mower, and started it up. Brother
Simon yelled something, but the mower noise drowned it out.

To Gothika’s annoyance, I did not accept a blowjob
from her as soon as I finished mowing and bagging the grass. I showered, then I
ran errands, then the ladies and I went grocery-shopping. Oh, the envious
stares I got! Then came the women fixing dinner, and all of us eating it.

Then Sarah and Slave Deborah went to work, while
Ashley and Slave Jeanette washed dishes. By the time I was sitting in the
recliner and Ashley was slurping my cock, the sun had set and I could just
barely see into my back yard.

Slave Jeanette startled. “Someone’s in your back
yard!” She took several steps toward my sliding-glass door. “It’s a teenage
girl walking a bicycle.”

“
What?
” I said. I tried to stand up—no easy
thing when a woman has my cock in her mouth. “Let me up,” I ordered Gothika,
and—after two more slurps—she did.

As I was tucking my cock in my pants, Gothika
muttered, “Shit! The blowjob doesn’t count if it’s stopped halfway through.”

Seconds later, the automatically activated porch
light revealed Ashley Lynn standing at my sliding-glass door. As she knocked on
the glass, she was pulling a knapsack off her shoulder.

Slave Jeanette pulled open the door a few inches,
and spoke quietly to Ashley Lynn. Then Slave Jeanette turned to me and said, “She
says she needs help with her geometry.” Ashley Lynn, meanwhile, was looking
pleadingly at me through the glass.

I gestured for Ashley Lynn to enter; as soon as she
was inside, I asked, “Why are you asking
me
for help, instead of
somebody in your class?”

She said, “I fibbed to your roommate. I’m here so
that you’ll, um, take my cherry. I hope I’ve waited long enough.” Again she
looked pleadingly at me. “Mom and Father think I’m at Debbie Barrett’s house.”

Shit, my Power strikes again.
“You’re
offering me your virginity? Out of the question—go home!”

Ashley Lynn shook her head. “Mister Hanson, my
first time, it’s gotta be with you, right here.” Then she glanced down at
Gothika and back in my eyes. “Mister Hanson, um, I know it’s none of my business,
um, but was she giving you, um, a
you-know
?”

Considering that Gothika was kneeling more-or-less
in front of the recliner, my face was flushed, and my cock inside my shorts was
erect, I couldn’t very well lie. “Yeah, something like that,” I replied to
Ashley Lynn.