"They Call Us Gypsies" (closed)

[heartofcourage]

Grace was quiet in the back seat of Jason's car, listening to him try and make small talk with the woman that was driving them with a serious expression on her face. She watched as the familiar scenery went past, all of them each holding their breath as they passed over the tall bridge that went over the river. When they passed that, it seemed to be smooth sailing...until they reached her house.

Grace's heart sank as she saw Jake stalking onto the porch, his face red with his anger. She hadn't expected him home until late that evening. He had told her that he had a dinner scheduled with an old lawyer fan, but it seemed that things had changed.

"He's not supposed to be home just yet." Grace said softly as Jason looked at her with as big of a shock on his face as she had. "Jason, don't go. It's alright."

"It's not alright." Inga muttered. "Not when he's that angry."


"Grace!" Jake hollered with anger in his voice. He half turned to open a path up the steps and into the house before demanding, "In the house ... now."

"Just ... just wait a moment, Grace," Jason tried, coming around the vehicle. "I'll talk to him, and everything will be--"

"NOW!" Jake hollered, looking at Grace as he jabbed a pointed finger toward the porch at his feet. Then, looking to Inga, then Jason, he growled, "And get that fucking ... gypsy ... whore away from my wife."

Silence echoed around them as Jake said that, Grace looking from Jason to Inga. Inga had a neutral expression on her face as if she were so use to those words. She knew how other people thought about her and this man wouldn't shake her. Grace, however, burned bright red in embarrassment as she opened the door and scurried out, hurrying towards the porch.

"Jake, you're going to apologize." Grace said softly, feeling braver than she probably actually was.

 

[DeadManTyping]

"Jake, you're going to apologize."

The words were barely out of his wife's mouth before Jake's hand swept through the air at her face. The slap was so sound against her cheek that it would echo back to them from upon the walls of the houses to the east and west; and the force of it had been so great that Grace would have toppled off the porch if her husband had not already been grasping her elbow with his other hand.

"JAKE!" Jason hollered louder than he'd yelled at his brother since they been kids. He rushed toward the steps, but Jake was already manhandling his wife toward the open door. As his brother gave Grace a push into the house and turned to close the door, Jason hollered, "Stop! Jake, stop!"

But the door simply slammed at Jason neared it. He tried the handle but it didn't budge. Beyond the window, Jake only stared at his brother for a moment before he pulled the shades closed to block the view of what was happening beyond them.

Jason put a little more force into trying to open the door but to no avail. He could break it down, of course ... but ... to what end? It was Jake's house, Jake's wife, and Jake's doings. Jason had no right to interfere ... even as his brain was reminding him with emphasis what Inga had said about his family obligation.

 

[heartofcourage]

Grace let out a cry of surprise as Jake slapped her hard. Her face ached from where his hand had made contact, but she was far too stunned at the fact that he had struck her to really react. She stumbled, but his hand was on her elbow and she was being pulled into the house before there was time to protest. As he shoved her inside and slammed the door behind him, Grace looked up at her husband with great fear. He had never acted like this before.

She turned and ran for the stairs, intent to lock herself in the bedroom before he could do anything else. It was the only thing that she could really think to do in that instant. She heard Jason yelling outside, trying the door only to find that it was locked. She knew her brother in law wouldn't be helping her. She was on her own in this fight.

Inga was out of the car the moment that she saw the slap, standing there dumbfounded. She had seen men treat their wives like trash, but never in broad daylight and never in front of a family member. Jason seemed upset by the turn of events, but as he tried the door to the house, the fight seemed to leave him entirely.

"You're just going to give up? Just like that?" Inga asked him, so confused as to why he wasn't doing more or going to find some help.

 

[DeadManTyping]

Jason's frustration was growing rapidly, even before Inga chastised him for his inaction. He clenched his teeth so hard that his jaws were beginning to hurt. He glared at Inga for a moment, then looked to the door. Pulling back, then surging forward, he forced it open by breaking the framing around the lock.

"No," he said softly as he glanced at Inga. "No, I'm not just going to give up."

Jason entered the house with haste and -- having heard Grace's rapidly moving feet ascending the stairs -- expected to have to chase his brother up the stairs as well. Instead, he came to a sudden stop at the bottom of the steps as he round his brother standing in the kitchen, calmly pouring a drink. Jason hesitated, then walked slowly in to stand near his brother.

"What was that all about?" he asked softly, still torn between defending his sister-in-law and offending his brother. "I've never seen you do that to--"

"And you won't see it again," Jake cut in. He lifted his drink to take a sip as he turned to eye his brother. Lowering the tumbler, he said with an apologetic tone, "It was wrong of me. It won't happen again."

Jason didn't look convinced, causing Jake to reach out to grasp his arm for a reassuring squeeze, saying, "Trust me, Jason. I ... I was angry ... but ... I'm past it. I saw the three of you out there together. I couldn't imagine a good reason for seeing that, but ... I'm sure that there was one. If Grace was with you ... well, I'm sure there was a good reason for it."

Jake hesitated, sipping at his drink again. Jason wasn't sure whether or not his brother was expecting that reason about which he was talking. He couldn't really tell him the truth, obviously.

"She brought me a pie," he said, which was true but at the same time had nothing to do with the incidents that came afterward. Talking just a bit louder than what was necessary, hoping that Grace could hear him through the vents that allowed heat and fresh air to circulate about the house, he continued, "I injured my hand and couldn't drive. Inga ... the gypsy you so kindly referred to as a whore, offered to drive ... and I came along because..."

Jason forced a smile, despite not feeling the humor that supposedly led to it, "Well, because she doesn't drive."

"She doesn't drive," Jason said, repeating more than questioning.

"No, and ... well, it was a bit frightening I can tell you."

They stood there simply staring at one another a moment, with Jake again sipping at his drink. Jake finally asked expectantly, "And...?"

"And what?" Jason inquired with uncertainty.

"And what do you want, Jason?" Jake pressed. "Grace is home. Grace is safe ... safe from me. You did what you broke my door down to do, so...?"

They stared a moment more, before Jake continued, "So...?"

Jason studied his brother a moment longer, unsure of whether or not to believe him or not. But, again he was at that point where he was asking himself what he could do. He backed up a small step, half turned, hesitated to study Jake for another moment, then turned fully and headed back out to the porch.

"We're leaving," he told Inga, passing right by here without stopping. He got in the car, saying, "Grace will be fine. Jake promised."

 

[heartofcourage]

"He also promised to love and honor her and that obviously isn't happening." Inga shot back as Jason simply told her that everything would be alright because Jake had promised. "He hit her. And you're going to walk away so quickly from that?"

She watched as he kept walking and she let out a sigh of frustration. Of course Jason would side with his brother, the man that was probably supporting his farm. It made Inga angry, but there was little she could do by follow after him as they headed back to the car.

"We can drive around town and come back by." Inga offered, seeing the look of indecision on his face. "Or we can forget about it and simply go back. I mean, what is she to me? Nothing. She is much more to you."

Inga moved to get the car going again, helping Jason to fire the engine before she slipped back behind the wheel and put it into motion.

Grace watched out the windows of her bedroom as Jason drove away with the gypsy. She had locked herself in the bedroom, a shivering mess as she heard the low conversation drifting up from downstairs before everything was silent. She had no idea what Jake might do now, but she was terrified. He had never struck her before. No man had ever struck her before. It certainly wasn't what she expected from her husband.

 

[DeadManTyping]

Jason sat next to Inga in silence for a long moment as she waited for his answer to what they were going to do. His brain was having a brawl with itself, one side repeating There's nothing you can do while the other was warning He's going to hurt her, and you're the only one who can help her.

"That way," he finally growled, upset at himself, not Inga. He gestured an extended finger ahead of them, the opposite direction of the route that would get them back to his home and her camp. "I need some things at the hardware store. We'll ... we'll give Jake time to settle down..."

He looked to Inga and gave her a slight smile before telling her, "And we'll take Grace back to my place. Okay?"



Inside his house, Jake walked to the front door as we watched his brother and the gypsy depart. The door frame was broken but the slide latch still closed. He secured the door and walked calmly back to the kitchen to freshen his drink. He drained it in two big gulps, set the tumbler aside, and calmly made his way to and up the stairs to Grace's door, which he found locked.

Without even bothering to ask her to open the door, Jake repeated his brother's actions downstairs and slammed against the barrier. The door flew open, and Jake entered and crossed toward his wife, telling her in a soft, calm voice, "Take your clothes off, Grace."

 

[heartofcourage]

Inga glanced towards Jason as he directed her towards the hardware store, telling her that they would give Jake some time to calm down before he took Grace back to his place. It was perhaps the best deal that she would get out of the entire situation and so she nodded to accept, directing the car towards the direction that he was pointing in.

Grace whipped around as their bedroom door crashed open and Jake entered. He seemed calm until he opened his mouth and told her to take her clothes off. Grace instinctively crossed her arms in front of her chest and shook her head.

"No." She said. "Not now. I need you to leave, Jake, before you do something that we both regret."

 

[DeadManTyping]

"Oh ... I'm not going to regret anything," Jake said calmly as he continued to move closer to Grace. In a flash, he slapped her again. But this time, without grasping an elbow to hold her, Grace spun and fell upon the bed behind her. He told her, still calm, "No at all."

He grabbed at Grace, manhandling her forcefully down onto the bed. One hand was at the back of her neck, gripping it tightly and -- if necessary -- directing her face into the bedding to prevent any possible screams from alerting the neighbors; while the second hand pulled ferociously at her dress, tearing it and the slip below it until -- except for her panties -- Grace was bared from the tops of her boots to the small of her back.

Jake worked his belt and pants loose, pulled his hardening cock through the fly of his boxers, and -- after using his knees to push her legs open -- lowered his full weight down upon his wife. He reached down to his groin, grasping his erection, and directed it to find Grace's hole.

Then he pushed...

 

[heartofcourage]

This slap was just as brutal and just as unexpected. Grace couldn't help the scream of terror that burst from her lips as she spun and landed on the bed. His hand was in her hair, shoving her face into the mattress until she swore she couldn't breathe. She fought back this time, as much as she could. She wasn't going to let herself be humiliated again.

Her hands pulled at his own, her nails digging into his skin as his hands pulled at her dress and slip. She bucked and screamed again, the sound muffled by the pretty comforter that he had let her pick out the week that they were married in Kansas City. She had taken such pride in the piece of decoration, but now it just felt like a torture.

Before she knew it, she felt Jake pressing against her, his hardened shaft seeking entrance into her body like it had just nights earlier. She bucked, kicking her legs furiously to stop him.

"I didn't do anything wrong!" She screamed at him. "Jake, stop!"

She hoped she screamed loud enough to wake the dead. She hoped that someone would hear what her husband was doing to her and come to her rescue. However, she knew that there was very little chance of any of that happening.

 

[DeadManTyping]

"I didn't do anything wrong!" She screamed at him. "Jake, stop!"

Despite doing her best to stop him, Jake felt Grace's opening give way to him. He pushed slowly, ironically not wanting to hurt her there. He hesitated, pulled back a bit, then pushed again, repeated, and repeated until the full length of his shaft was wet and slipping in and out of her.

"I didn't say you did anything wrong, honey," he said close to his wife's ear with the sweetest tone as he continued to penetrate Grace with long slow strokes. Still speaking softly to her, as if sharing sweet nothings, Jake told her, "I'm not punishing you, Grace."

And yet, he most certainly was. He grasped her at the wrists and held her arms against the mattress while holding her small frame to it with his greater weight. And he continued stroking, stroking, stroking deep into her...

 

[heartofcourage]

Grace whimpered as he whispered against her ear that he wasn't punishing her. Of course he was. This was most definitely a punishment of the cruelest type. She felt him slipping into her body, working himself in until he was able to glide freely. How he was able to make her wet even in the darkest of moments was beyond her and she truly hated herself for that.

She pulled at her wrists, tears wetting her lashes as his hold remained firm. The rest of his muscular weight pinned her to the mattress, ensuring that she would simply lie there and take what he was doing. She thought about screaming again, about not stopping until someone heard her. What would that accomplish in the end? He would be even angrier than he was right then and it would be a million times worse.

"I hate you." She blurted out, her face flushing red as the bed creaked beneath them. "I hate everything about you, Jacob Townsend."

 

[DeadManTyping]

"I love you, Grace Townsend," Jake whispered sweetly, as he once had in the days long before he'd ever begun finding pleasure within her. He continued to stroke deep and slow, making love to her. The pleasure of her tightness, her warmth, her wetness was driving him quickly toward climax as he moved his face to reach her cheek with his lips and kissed her, repeating, "I love you, Grace."

He released hold of one of Grace's wrists, slipped the hand under her head, and wrenched it back until he was looking into her eyes. He forced a kiss onto her lips, then released the new hold on her, again pressing his mouth close to her ear.

"I love you, Grace ... and you love me."

He was close, and now -- for the first time -- his love making began to feel more like rape. He began slamming his groin against her butt cheeks, sinking his shaft as deep and hard into her as possible, ignoring any reaction she might give.

Jake grunted loud and long as he rammed his cock fully within her one last time to feel it leap again and again, filling her with his seed. He maintained his full intrusion within Grace until his ejaculations came to a full end ... then ... he simply lay his full weight upon the much smaller woman and enjoyed the euphoria.

 

[heartofcourage]

As Jake came, she clenched her eyes shut tightly against the feel of his cock jerking inside of her. He knew exactly what he was doing. If she got pregnant, it would be that much harder to leave. With a child to care for, there would be more rules if she asked for a divorce. He could still see the child and as an extension, still be a major part of her life.

It made Grace ill as he lay on top of her, his chest rising and falling quickly against her back. He was smothering her, making sure that she knew just who had done this to her. She didn't believe for a moment that he loved her as he had never shown her anything that had resembled love. He was a cold man.

She finally managed to push him off, quickly pulling herself to her feet as she turned and looked down at her husband. "I want you to leave or I'll leave. Until you come to your senses." She pulled down the skirt of her dress, covering her naked thighs and hips as she struggled to find the strength to make him follow her wishes.

 

[DeadManTyping]

Jake slowly rolled off the bed away from Grace and pulled his pants his pants up, fastening them and the belt again. As he walked around the end of the bed, he smiled politely to his wife, telling her, "Go ahead, Grace. Leave."

He turned away toward the broken door, heading for the hall. He hesitated there, though, looking back to say with that same polite voice he'd been using through the entire rape, "Leave, Grace. I won't stop you. But ... be back by six, please. I'm thinking chicken. Wouldn't chicken be nice?"

His smile widened, and he left her sight to head downstairs to make himself another drink.

 

[heartofcourage]

The way that Jake calmly smiled at her, telling her to leave but to be back in time for dinner, made her sick to her stomach. She shrank away from him as he moved past her to go down the stairs. The moment that she was alone, she scrambled to pack a bag. She put clothing into the bag, the bare essentials. She was sure that if she stayed behind, Jake might do something terrible to her beyond what had already been done.

When Jake was occupied with his drink, she slipped out the front door with her bag, unsure of where she was going to go. She couldn't go to her father's home. He would send her right back to Jake with the warning that she better not mess this all up for the family. Instead, she turned her journey back towards Jason's house, knowing that he would give her shelter if she only asked for it.

 

[DeadManTyping]

Jason had wandered the hardware store for several minutes, picking things up, putting them down, and moving on. His mind wasn't on the work he needed to accomplish back at the farm, nor was it on the items available here to help him finish those tasks. No, instead, it was firmly on the mistake he'd made by not insisting that Jake let him take Grace away from the house before he and Inga left twenty minutes earlier.

He looked up toward the Romani woman standing on the wooden boardwalk before the store. (The hardware store owner had refused to allow the gypsy through the door, claiming that the last time the thieving bastards had been here, they'd very nearly cleaned the place out while his now former sales clerk had been in a back room being sodomized by one of the unholy demons.) She'd thought Jason should have done more, of course, and he'd repeated to her at least three of fours times that he knew that and that he would, just not then.

But then was then, and now was now.

Jason couldn't put off acting any longer. His greatest fear, of course, was that Jake might cause Grace serious harm. But running a close second to that was the fear that Jake had been entirely truthful when he said he wouldn't hurt his wife and -- if Jason rushed back in to save an otherwise unharmed Grace -- that returning to the house under the assumption that Jake had lied would destroy their brotherly relationship for the near or even distant future.

"Let's go, back to Grace," Jason said to Inga as he hurried out the store's entrance past her. He descended the steps to the Ford, grasped the crank in one hand, put all of his emotion-enhanced might into it, and cranked, cranked, cranked until the vehicle's engine fired to life. As he hopped in, Jason didn't realize that he hadn't said Back to Grace's house or Back to Jake's house, but had instead said Back to Grace herself. When they were ready to head forth, he looked to Inga with a sincere, apologetic expression, and -- whether for Grace, for Inga, or for everything -- told the Romani woman, "I'm sorry."

It took barely over a minute to reach the block on which Jake's house set, which gave Jason little time to contemplate how he was going to deal with the situation ahead. But that decision was made for him when he looked down the road ahead of them and saw...

"Grace...?" he murmured to himself as he focused in on a woman hurrying away lugging a suitcase in both hands. He leaned to his right to look around the dusty window screen, studied the figure, then leaned back in and pointed Inga toward his sister-in-law. "There! It's Grace."

As they passed it, Jason's eyes swept the windows of the house, wondering whether or not his brother had seen his wife slip away, which was Jason's presumption. He checked four windows on two floors and saw nothing, then was shocked as they rumbled past the front porch to find Jake standing there with a drink in his hands, watching the passing car and his escaping wife seemingly without a worry in the world.

Had Jake given Grace permission to leave him? No. Jason couldn't even imagine that. Odds would have been better that she'd put a knife in Jake's back after he'd beat her again. So ... why was he just standing there watching his brother and the gypsy drive past ... slow down and stop ... and board Grace up into the back where Jason joined her to offer a shoulder to cry on if need be?

The last think Jason saw of his brother was the man lifting his tumbler of liquor as if toasting their future luck...

 

[heartofcourage]

Grace’s only hope was that Jake wouldn’t follow her. He could drag her back to the house if he wanted but she needed to be free of him. He had been overbearing for much of their married life but he had never been this violent before. To be truthful, she was scared. She didn’t want him near her nor did she want him to be a part of her life at the moment.

At the sound of a car approaching, she turned and felt relief at the sight of Jason. As it slowed and Inga looked at her through the window, Jason leapt out to help her with her bag. Grace’s cheek was bruising faintly from the hard slaps she had received and her body shivered uncontrollably. She could only watch as Jason loaded her suitcase into the car and ushered her into it, sliding into the backseat beside her and slamming the door shut.

“Can I stay with you? For a while? At least until Jake gets himself together?” Grace asked in a soft, hopeless voice. “I’d go home to my parents but they would send me back in an instant.”

 

[DeadManTyping]

"Of course you can, Grace," Jason said without hesitation as he politely gestured Inga to get them out of there. "For as long as you like."

He took one last look over his shoulder to find his brother casually sipping from his drink and turning to reenter the house. Jason could only wonder what Jake's response was going to be. He was at a total loss, because he would never have imagined that Jake would let Grace out the door in the first place.



Inga's driving wasn't nearly as frightening on the way back, though, honestly Jason's mind might have been more focused on Grace than the road. Arriving at the house, Grace was taken to Jason's bedroom upstairs and told it was hers for as long as she needed it. Jake would move some of his things to the downstairs bedroom which he and Jake had shared through their childhood and teens, until the latter left for college.

A couple of years ago it had been redecorated for a Methodist pastor and his wife whose parsonage had been destroyed by a tornado. The teen boyish look had been replaced by a plain, almost dour appearance with less than joyful colors and a total absence of what anyone would think of as décor. The twin beds had remained, though, at the request of the couple who did not share the same mattress at night.

(That didn't mean they refrained from sex, though. During their three month stay, Jason had very often come home or awoke at night to the muted sounds of the couple as they tried but failed to prevent their host from recognizing their grunts and groans, moans and cries of ecstasy.)

"I have a hog that Papa Don might appreciate for the camp's midday feast," Jason said out of the blue after his sister-in-law was settled in upstairs and Inga was alone with him in the kitchen. He turned to look to the beautiful Romani, explaining, "I can't be with Grace every moment of the day. I have work to be done. So ... I thought ... maybe if you didn't mind. I understand from chatting with your grandfather that you are responsible for bringing in a certain amount of income. And I thought, maybe the hog could be compensation...?"

It was ironic that every since walking into Inga's tent that one night, then having her walk into his house the next day, all Jason had been able to think of was getting Inga back here again, hopefully with the result that they stripped away their clothes and woke up the chickens with the sounds of their ecstasy; and here he was inviting her into his home and it had nothing to do with fucking her.

 

[heartofcourage]

Inga had been looking out his window as he got Grace situated in a room upstairs. She could hear the both of them speaking in soft tones before a door closed and Jason soon appeared at the base of the stairs. She turned and look at him, considering his offer of giving her Papa a hog in exchange for Inga staying there to help care for Grace.

"There's no need to pay them anything. I pay more than my fair share most of the time." Inga said with a shrug of her shoulders. "And if anyone says anything, I'll take care of it."

She meant Marla, but that was beside the point. The little whore could contain her jealousy for a while longer for all that she cared. If Jason was asking her to do something, she would. It seemed that he wanted to take this seriously and a man like his brother was very likely to strike when anyone least expected it.

"I can even get my good for nothing cousin to come and act as a guard. I might keep him out of trouble for once in his life." Inga said with some heat in her voice even though she wasn't terribly mad at Gregor.

 

[DeadManTyping]

Inga's mention of her cousin caused Jason's stomach to turn with anxiety. His guilt over having beaten Gregor to a pulp was only growing. He knew he'd have to apologize to the man at some point. But ... not just now.

"I need to do some work," he said, snagging a day old roll from the bread box before heading toward the door. His path was going to take him close past Inga, but he stopped when he was directly before her. He looked into her face, and -- as he forgot about all the mayhem of the day -- he remembered how beautiful she was ... and how badly he wanted to be naked with her. He forced his eyes to divert from the woman, then before heading out said, "Thank you very much, Inga. For everything."



Outside, Jason divided his time between doing chores and dealing with the Romani. Every ten or fifteen minutes, it seemed, there was another boy or two, man or two, or combination therein coming up to him as he worked to either offer his a service or good or ask him for one or the either.

It became so annoying that Jason finally made his way into the camp to find and talk to Papa Don. He smiled and laughed when he located the Romani patriarch sitting in a rocker in the shade of his own wagon getting his feet scrubbed and rubbed by a woman a well under a third his age. Papa Don smiled and gestured Jason to a nearby stool. As the farmer sat, the young girl splashed the contents of the bucket out onto the grass, tossed all the cleaning tools into it, set it aside ... then leaned into the elderly gypsy to give him an erotic kiss.

"She's a good girl," Papa Don told Jason as the stunned farmer watched the young, petite thing walk away into the crowd of Romani and guests enjoying the afternoon games, crafts, and other fun. He said with a kindly, sincere tone, "Can you believe that little figure keeps an old man like me so warm at night."

Jason laughed, then apologized quickly. He engaged Papa Don in negotiation concerning the constant flood of Romani to his farm house, and when they'd reached an agreement, he stood to leave again.

But halfway across the circle within the vardo, some parents parted to go this way or that ... and there was Gregor. Jason stopped short, and the two just stared at one another a long moment.

"Sorry about that," the farmer finally said, pointing a finger toward Gregor's swollen, black left eye. "I, um ... I thought that..."

"That I had my way with your brother's wife," Gregor filled in. When Jason didn't correct him, Gregor continued, "I didn't."

"I know that now," Jason told him with a sorrowful tone.

"But I would," Gregor said, surprising the other man. Gregor walked to stand a bit closer to Jason, not wanting others to hear them. He said softly, "I would ... if she wanted me."

Jason studied Gregor for a moment, again surprised. He was a strange one, this gypsy. Who verified that they wanted to have intimate relations with a married woman ... to that woman's husband's brother?

"I love her," Gregor began again.

Jason couldn't help but laugh. "You don't love Grace."

"I do," Gregor repeated.

"No ... you don't!" Jason stressed. "You may want to have sex with her ... but ... you haven't known her long enough to say that you love her."

"I have," Gregor continued, adding, "And I do."

"Grace is my brother's wife!" Jason argued. But, as soon as he'd spoken the words, he remembered Jake slapping Grace so hard she'd almost fallen. Was that love? As he turned to continue toward his ranch house, he finished, "You need to stay away from Grace."

Jason hadn't gotten more than a half dozen steps before he remembered the other reason he'd come here. He hesitated, then turned back to Gregor. "I'm wondering whether you could spare a man to watch over my house. A little security."

Gregor laughed. "You want me to provide a gypsy security guard for your house to keep the gypsies from stealing--"

"Grace is staying with me a while," Jason cut in. He saw the change in Gregor's expression: the man looked about ready to salivate. "There was an incident in town ... concerning my brother. and I'm ... I'm afraid we might have some trouble with him."

"I will send Harold," Gregor confirmed. "He'll keep Grace safe ... from what ever man you don't want near her comes by."

Jason thanked Gregor, then headed back to the house to continue with his chores.

 

[heartofcourage]

The house was quiet when Grace had woken after a long nap. When Jason had left, she felt so incredibly weary and she couldn’t help crying her eyes out for a while. She had never thought for a moment that her life would turn out like this. She had never really been a girl who dreamed of fairy tales. She had grown up onna farm and understood hard work and hunger. The world that Jake had whisked her away to had been fun at first, but now it felt like a prison.

Jake had never been particularly warm and loving, but he hadn’t been violent. The last few days was a harsh wake up call that she wasn’t sure she wanted to wake up from. A divorce would be messy. Jake wasn’t the kind of man to let something go easily. Her hope was that a couple of days away from home would wake him up to what she had done for him in their short months together.

After she woke by late afternoon, she showered in Jake’s bathroom and then made her way downstairs. She heard conversation on the porch and peeking through the windows, she saw the gypsy woman Inga speaking to another man that looked more muscle than anything else. Thy seemed familiar with one another, sharing a cigarette back and forth as they watched Jason in the distance.

Jason was working his horse’s hooves, making sure they were in good condition. His chickens pecked around his feet, causing as much chaos as they threatened to get underfoot. Grace decided to stay in the house, choosing to start dinner for all of them to feel some sort of helpful in the situation.

 

[DeadManTyping]

Gregor flinched in surprise as the sudden realization that Papa Don had been standing next to him for an unknown time, staring off into the distance at the Townsend farmhouse, just as Gregor had been. He asked with confusion, "What are you doing?"

With a soft tone -- still looking toward the home -- the Romani patriarch asked, "What are you doing?"

Gregor didn't embarrass easily or blush often, but he managed both now. He lied, "Nothing. Just ... standing here."

"I am doing the same," Papa Don answered, also lying. He looked from the home to Gregor, smiled a bit, and clarified, "I, too, and doing nothing ... just standing here."

Gregor diverted his eyes as he realized that his face was exploding in red. Then, glancing to Papa Don, then to the distant structure, he said quietly, "She's in there. And ... I want to see her."

"Yes, I know," Papa Don said, sounding very sympathetic to Gregor's plight concerning the Townsend woman. Looking to Gregor with a bit of a smirk he said, "And you should miss your cousin's company."

"I'm not talking about--!" Gregor started. But as he'd turned his eyes to Papa Don, he'd caught the old man's smirk and realized he was being played. Again his face exploded in redness. He once again let his gaze travel about the camp a moment before looking back to the house. In a softer voice, he said with sincerity, "I need to be with her."

After a moment of no response from Papa Don, Gregor looked to the Family's patriarch, finding the older man studying him. Gregor realized how his last comment had sounded and quickly clarified, "I don't mean ... be with her. I mean..."

"Be with her," Papa Don said with understanding. After a bit, he said, "Then go be with her."

A moment of silence passed between them, surrounded by the noise of the carnavale rising all about them, a sound neither of them seemed to register. Gregor broke the stillness near them with, "She doesn't want to be with me. She ... she doesn't want to be anywhere near me. I ... I really messed this one up, Papa Don."

The patriarch looked to Gregor, then held his hand out, opened, palm up. He wiggled his fingers to the younger Romani as if wanting Gregor's hand. The younger man smiled curiously: while the gypsy girls and women often walked about holding hands as a sign of loving family and friendship, it wasn't a common thing for the males to do the same. Gregor thought it was very empathetic of his elder to wish to show such family and friendship by giving the younger Romani a squeeze of the hand.

Then Papa Don blew away Gregor's misunderstanding by waggling his fingers at the end of his empty palm and asking, "Will you be contributing to the treasury from your pocket tonight?"

Gregor immediately realized that it was his coin, not his hand that Papa Don had wanted. "I'll be working. As always!"

The older man's expression told Gregor that he'd only been playing with him. Gregor took one last long look at the house, then looked to the older, wiser man and asked, "Will she ever want me the way I want her?"

Papa Don moved close to Gregor, pressing an open hand to the side of the man's face that wasn't black and blue, smiled lovingly, and quipped, "No. Not a chance in hell."

As Papa Don turned and walked away, he laughed and said over his shoulder, "You're wanted at the card games."

Gregor watched the old man disappear into the growing crowd. The sun had descended beyond the distant, low lying hills an hour earlier, and the carnavale had already begun to come alive. The more family oriented games and activities had begun to fade away as the more adult -- and more lucrative -- games and activities had begun replacing them.

Looking to Inga's Seer tent, Gregor found her usual signage replaced with one from one of the other Romani fortune tellers. One of the gypsy girls had been earning her coin running to and from the house and camp all afternoon, fetching necessities and passing messages; and while he hadn't learned much in specifics, Gregor had gleaned that his cousin might not be in her tent earning tonight, instead staying at the house to help Jason with his sister-in-law.

Gregor didn't know exactly what had happened between Grace and her husband, but he assumed it had to do with one of the man's hands landing upon the woman's body in an inappropriate way. He had no idea that Jake had slapped Grace silly -- twice! -- let alone raped her a second time in as many days. And that was probably a good thing, for if Gregor had known, he probably would have been in town right now bludgeoning the judge with a rock from his own flower garden.

But he knew that it had to have been dramatic if Inga was passing on an evening of her biggest money making venture to watch over a woman she didn't know. Or ... was this about the other Townsend in the house? Gregor had also gleaned that Inga had been spending a lot of her time over then closer to Jason than to Grace. There was a possibility, Gregor imagined, that his wasn't the only infatuation affecting the Family at the moment. And that made Gregor smile. Knowing that his cousin was getting all hot and bothered for a man she couldn't have -- well, for any longer than the Family's stop in Clark County, anyway -- while he was having the same feelings for the man's in-law ... well ... that was worth a smirk and a chuckle.



For the next couple of hours, Gregor tried to take his mind off the house and its occupants by assisting in a variety of money making ventures, from card cons to pick pocketing to exotic and even erotic side shows. It all earned his pocket a little coin, a little bit of which -- as Papa Don had pointed out earlier -- would leave his pocket and go to the treasury.

There had been plans to hold another bare knuckle fight tonight, but it had been cancelled. The story of the fight between Gregor the Great and Carl the Club had spread, and the locals were eager to see yet another face pounding, this time hopefully being administered by a local upon a gypsy, not the other way around.

But with Gregor's face still black and blue and sporting stitches from his beat down administered by the Farmer Townsend; and the Family's back up champion, Harold standing watch at Jason's, another alternative was needed for the Big Tent. Luckily, the ratio of male guests to female ones rose as the darkness of night deepened, and the Romani had something more than bare knuckle fighting for which the men of Clark County would spend their coin to see.

Marla was going to do her Arabian Nights belly dance.

Gregor served as chief barker for the event, standing outside the Big Tent advertising to the passing men what he promised would be the most erotic thing upon which their gaze had ever fallen. To help promote the event, two of the other beautiful Romani women stood with him, dressed in outfits as equally sexy and revealing as those Gregor promised Marla would be shedding within.

The price to get inside the Big Tent was steep: $2 a head. Yet within an hour of his beginning his promotion, Gregor had to close down admittance and put a couple of Romani males at the tent flap to keep wanna-be-guests outside.

Inside, an elevated stage had been arranged to fill one corner of the tent. Long, flowing swathes of colorful cloth hung from the tent supports decorated the space above both the stage and viewing area. A desert scene filled the back drop of the stage, and -- even though they didn't come from anywhere near Arabia -- four of the Family's llamas were flanking the stage, held onto by scantily clad Romani women, with animal and human both there to add to the exotic nature of what was to come.

And as what was to come came to be, the crowd of men went nuts. Marla came to the stage, swaying and shaking to the music provided by the Romani men sitting off to her right. She was very skilled at this form of entertainment, from both the dance perspective and the cock-stiffening one. The men hooted and hollered as she moved from one side of the stage to the other, always as close as possible but never too close at the same time. Some of the Romani men who would typically be out in the crowd picking pockets or luring male guests to the sex or gin tents were instead here to ensure that those in attendance stayed under control.

The money already earned at the Tent's entrance had been impressive: Gregor had allowed almost 100 men inside before telling the others they would have to wait for the second show. But that revenue was about to increase greatly as Gregor began to suggest that Marla was getting a bit warm and needed to shed some layers of clothing ... if only the men would encourage her with their change.

Suddenly, the tent filled with the sound of coins bouncing upon the wood stage. Gregor smiled -- as did Marla -- as pennies, nickels, dimes, quarters, and even the odd silver dollar or two bounced across the platform and rolled over the back edge, where a trio of men were quickly gathering them up and tossing them into shallow pans.

"Please, gentlemen!" Gregor urged with a volume that washed over the noisy men. "Is this beautiful, exotic woman from the desert not worth more than a few pennies?"

And while Gregor's questions caused the volume of coin to increase a bit, it was Marla's taunting of the men with a piece of clothing almost shed that really increased the rain of money. When the coin gatherers nodded to Gregor that an expected amount of money appeared to now be theirs, he would change up his barking to indicate to Marla that a stage had been reached. And she would shed another layer of cloth or another string of beads.

The Romani had come to know much money they could glean from the local men for such an erotic act, and they played it very well. By the time the different constituent parts of Marla's costume had been decreased to just those hiding her most erotic of womanly features, the rain of coins had pretty much decreased to a light sprinkle.

But Gregor knew there was always one or two men in the crowd who had a pocket still filled with paper money with which they would part given the right circumstances. As Marla unfastened a final layer of clothing that, all alone by itself, was hiding both her bosom and her groin, Gregor made one final offer to the gathered men.

"Which one of you fine, upstanding men," he called out from the corner edge of the stage, "would like to be the man who helps our Arabian princess out of what continues to hide her from his eager comrades' gazes?"

Before their eyes, Marla pretended as though she couldn't get the last of her fasteners loose, thus denying the crowd their full view of her body. Leaning over the crowd and calling out with the excited voice of a child enjoying his first sugary candy, Gregor continued, "Which one of you will be the man who stands right here--"

Gregor moved closer to Marla, placing one hand on the small of her back just above her now revealed butt, causing the calls from the excited men to increase greatly; while the other hand pointed to the floor directly before Marla's bare feet. He continued, "Right here ... to be the first to gaze upon the beauty of this exotic ... erotic creature from the distant deserts..."

The crowd roared, and men began flashing paper money before them or over their heads. But being the professional -- and gypsy -- that he was, Gregor could see with a quick scan of the exhibited money that there was no one man showing the amount he wanted to see.

"Which one of you fine, upstanding men," he continued, moving closer to the edge of the stage so that he could more clearly see the cash offered, "will be the one who helps our beautiful Arabian Princess out of the last articles that are hiding her from us ... AND ... will then go backstage with our Princess ... to assist her ... in putting her clothes back on ... but ... without ... a rush ... to do so."

The implication was obvious: the man with the winning hand -- hand of winning cash -- was going to get some personal time with the young beauty who was nearly naked before he and many of the men of Clark County.

Suddenly, the cash being flashed grew: not by the number of hands waggling it but by the quantity in some of those hands. Men began calling out dollar amounts, bidding on being with Marla as if she was being auctioned ... which, essentially, she was. Soon enough, men were hollering ever increasing dollar amounts in the high two digits ... then the amount reached three digits...

"One ten..."
"One twenty!"
"A hundred and twenty five!"
"One thirty!

The bids increased as did Gregor's smile. He knew the crowd would reach high in the 100s before the bids thinned and Marla knew who she'd have pawing over her. Or, at least Gregor thought he did.

The bids reached almost $200 when suddenly from the back a man hollered, "Five hundred dollars!"

The crowd suddenly hushed, or at least it did relative to the level of noise that had existed. Hands lowered and money began to disappear, but one hand remained high ... and it held a wad of dollar bills. The crowd parted, and the winning bid came forth. A wide eyed and genuinely pleased Gregor urged the man to the stage, and -- as if he himself was going to strip -- showed him off to the crowd before turning him to Marla.

The dancer herself was conspicuously pleased. Never had a man offered her so much money to help her out of her clothes ... and that other thing that would come afterward, also. The music, which had been muted and almost undetectable, increased in volume again as Marla began an erotic dance around the man standing center stage. Then, directing his hands to the last two fasteners keeping her body hidden, she whispered to him, "Let's see what you have bought."

The man tugged, and Marla's last coverings fell away. The crowd roared, despite the fact that many of them couldn't see past the man to get a view of all the female goodies. But after Marla had gyrated up against the man for a moment, she spun around him to give the audience a view of her now fully nude body. The men went nuts, of course, as she continued her previous dance, keeping close to the man who had paid more to have her later than all of which had been earned by other means.

There was a bit of a disappointing sound as Marla suddenly led her patron off the stage and toward the back room where she would compensate him for his generosity. The boys who had been gathering coin hadn't stopped, but now they were atop the stage snatching up coins before any of the guests tried to get their own hands upon them.

Of course, the money making wasn't entirely over. Gregor launched into his barking concerning the nearby tents filled with women as lovely and erotic as Marla. And while most of the men -- those who had tossed all their coin at Marla's feet -- were done with Romani women for the night, may of those who had shown their paper money were heading toward the tents near the back of the field where the gypsy prostitutes would earn their contributions for the Family's treasury.

 

[heartofcourage]

The sounds coming from the celebration just beyond the farmhouse were growing louder by the minute. Grace kept looking through the open window of the kitchen towards where the tents seemed to be packed with people. It didn't bother Inga or Harold in the slightest as they continued on with their conversation, onto another cigarette as Jason worked in his barn.

Grace had cooked until she was exhausted. It might have been too much for just the four of them, but she wanted Jason to be alright with the choice of allowing her to stay. On a farm, that meant pulling her weight in some way or another. She had always been a good cook, one of the best in the county, so the pile of potatoes, fried chicken, greens, and desserts would keep them all happy at least for one night.

Grace stepped out onto the porch, dusting her hands on her apron as she looked at Harold and Inga. "Dinner's ready." She said softly, the woman turning to look at Grace over her shoulder.

"You cooked?" Inga asked, snubbing out her cigarette and glancing towards Harold.

"I thought it was the least that I could do." Grace said with a slight shrug of her shoulders. "Jason didn't have to do any of this for me and you didn't either."

Inga was quiet as Grace said that, wondering just how the woman could look upon what had happened to her as something that needed to be repaid. No one deserved to be treated like trash by the person that was supposed to love you beyond reason. She would never understand why women were taught that. Her Papa had taught her to have some pride, to live as independently as possible, and to always be stubborn.

"I suppose I'll go get Jason then." Inga said as she stood and gave Harold a look, telling him to stay put as she walked across a dirt path towards the barn.

She stepped into the open door, the sounds of animals surrounding her as she heard Jason doing something within. She could see him mucking a stall at the end of the row, looking far more handsome than any man had the right to. His hair was mussed, his brow covered in sweat, and his muscles rippling beneath the thin cotton shirt that he had worn. Inga felt her entire being melt in the most embarrassing way as she caught herself staring. Shaking herself free, she made her way towards him, pausing a short distance away until he put away his hay pick.

"Grace made us all dinner." She mentioned in a cool tone, much cooler than she felt in that moment.

 

[DeadManTyping]

Jason's attentions had been so thoroughly divided that -- although he'd been out here working for hours -- he'd barely gotten anything done. Anything important, anyway. He'd slung some hay and poured some grain and chopped some wood and -- as Inga suddenly appeared in the barn's doorway -- was mucking soiled straw from a stall.

But his mind had been so filled with competing thoughts that he hadn't been able to concentrate on anything complex, such as looking at the starter of the Ford or completing his plan for the new chicken coop or anything else that would have taken real brain power.

He brushed his hair away from his sweaty brow as he returned Inga's stare back to her. She was ... oh, so beautiful. No, not just beautiful. Jason knew a lot of beautiful woman. Valerie at the dry goods was beautiful. Marlene at City Hall. Paula at Western Union. Grace! Grace, his sister-in-law was beautiful. Maybe the most beautiful of them all.

No, Inga was something more than that. Inga was exotic. That dark hair, dark eyes; that sometimes brooding expression that -- in a flash -- could suddenly become flirtatious, sensual, suggestive, even erotic. Jason had wanted to fuck her from the moment he'd seen her. But, c'mon, honestly? He wanted to fuck every good looking skirt that came into view the moment it came into view. He was a guy, after all.

The difference was that now ... the only skirt Jason had an interest in being with ... was Inga. How could this be? He barely knew her. And yet, as with Gregor belief about Grace, Jason was absolutely certain that he was meant to be with the incredible gypsy woman.

She approached him, telling him that Grace had made them dinner.

And without hesitating, Jason stepped up to Inga, pressing his dirty, sweaty body against her as he wrapped one arm around the small of her back and lifted the hand of the other arm to the back of her head, and pressed his mouth fully against hers.

 

[heartofcourage]

Inga was exactly sure what kind of look Jason was giving her as they stared at one another in the barn. He was breathing heavily, considering her from a distance. She had always known men were attracted to her. Hell, there were even some women that would have done anything in their power to spend just one evening with her. However, she had never found that one person out there that completed her. She wasn't even sure that Jason could be that person, but he was an excellent candidate.

When he stalked forward and pressed himself against her, Inga didn't stop it. Instead, she wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him even closer. Then their lips touched and she melted. She absolutely surrendered herself to him as he grasped her tightly around the waist, his large hand cradling her head so that he could kiss her just the way that her wanted to.

She had to grin as she thought about how thoroughly into her he really was. He had sent Marla on her way for her. He had made her breakfast. He had let her drive his car. This wasn't just an infatuation, Inga thought to herself.