152 comments/ 89812 views/ 130 favorites Interest By: oshaw It was the perfect day for it to happen. I'm surrounded by friends and family enjoying the happy occasion. Outside the vortex of gaiety are curious onlookers, either sneaking peeks at the celebrating crowd or staring with envious eyes wishing they merited being included in the guest list. My father, Harrison Williams sat near the head of the long table presiding over the affair. A large smile was on his face as he finished a story that brought peals of laughter from everyone. Multiple waiters and waitresses scurried to comply with the various orders of the assembled guests. A waiter deftly placed a rare third glass of Chardonnay in front of my mother, Tracey Williams. She idly ran her fingers around the stem of the wineglass as she smiled at her husband and then turned her attention to me. The look of pride and love coming from my mother was just another wonderful bonus for me. I thought of all the love and sacrifices my family underwent just to put me in this position. I was on the verge of becoming part of a world that I had dreamed about since childhood. It hadn't been easy. I had to carefully craft my college course schedule to coincide with my part time job at the bank and manage to spend what time I could with my girlfriend. For four long years I would rush from school to my job. Then after work, it was home to study and discuss the theoretical applications espoused by my professors against the real world experience of my father. I had to walk a delicate tightrope not to agitate my father as we debated radical changes to the business. Harrison Williams business philosophy could be summed up in the adage, "If it ain't broke, don't fix it." Even so, I would occasionally convince my father to try out a new idea and he would allow a trial run to see if any advantages would come from the new practice. Sometimes the proposed idea would utterly fail and we would spend countless hours debriefing trying to come to a consensus why it failed. Sometimes, the idea would succeed, but not to the extent anticipated, so we would carefully tweak the idea to maximize profit. Then, there was the one time the new idea was a raving success and I had to resist the urge to tell my father, I told you so. Alternately, I was fearless in letting my professors know what ideas passed muster and what ideas they should delete from espousing from the ivory towers. Many professors resented the public exposure of the failure of their business models and my grades reflected that bias to some degree, but I felt duty bound to tell my fellow students my experiences so they would keep from making a misstep when they were out making a living. While my ethical stand precluded me from graduating with honors, I did earn my degree which was one of the reasons for the festivities. Now armed with my degree in business I would join my father in running the family bank that had provided a livelihood for our family for six generations. I had already cast my eyes on the girl that I expected to help make it become the seventh generation. Staci Buckman was seated next to me talking to her mother seated opposite across the table from Staci. Staci and I had known each other our entire lives. We had been classmates throughout school. We started dating our senior year in high school. She followed me to the local college and while our time together was limited due to school and work, she and I continued our relationship. Weekends dates were few and far between, but still we managed to make a go of it. I was hellbent on consummating the relationship. In that respect I was your basic American male. Staci had been able to hold me off with comments about wanting to enter marriage as a virgin and diverted my lust with an occasional hand job. Now five years into the relationship, the countdown would finally begin. I checked my pants pocket for the hundredth time to assure myself that the jewelry box containing the diamond engagement ring was still there. After she agreed to my proposal, then Staci and her friends and family can begin planning the wedding. I decided to take the opportunity to appreciate Staci's looks. Staci was petite, with dirty-blonde hair, and endowed with tits that stood out on her thin frame. Sort of like Jennifer Love Hewitt. She had hazel eyes that could draw your attention. Enticing thin lips created a smile on her angular face that would beguile any man. She was smart, charming, and engaging. Practically the entire town was ready to adopt her into their family. Of course, some of the potential adopters reasons were baser than others. She was the subject of many wet dreams and the fantasy woman many men held in thought as they made love to their girlfriends or wives. I continued to watch as Staci erupted in laughter to a comment made by her mother. She unconsciously brushed aside a strand of hair that fell across her face. I thought of how I intended to reward her now that I would start working for my father and begin earning a decent wage while he groomed me to take over. I expected trips to Hawaii and Christmas vacations in London and three day weekends beach getaways for us. And we would plan our family. I wanted a son and a daughter, but as long as the babies were healthy that was all that really mattered. I nudged Staci for a quick comment and she smiled at me and gave my shoulder a fraternal pat as she entered into a conversation on the other side of her. I was slightly disturbed by her nonchalance attitude, but deemed it as a result of the entire table celebrating the good fortune of mine and Staci's graduation. I was soon engaged into a conversation with Staci's father. Mr. Buckman wanted to know if I was going to go with the group of men scheduled for an Alaskan hunting trip. The group consisted of the elite power structure of the town. All the movers and shakers; albeit, doctors, or lawyers, or businessmen migrated in this collegial clique. By inviting me, a message was sent that I was expected to join their ranks. Many of that power elite were present tonight at the dinner table. They came not only from a sense of commercial fealty, but because of the high esteem the Williams and the Buckmans had in the community. My father had helped so many during his career as the president of the Camden Bank & Trust. My mother worked tirelessly over many community projects to help and benefit the less fortunate members of society. The Buckmans had done so as well, donating proficiently to charitable organizations. As the proprietor of the family owned manufacturing plant, Charles Buckman was the richest man in Camden and he did all his personal and business banking needs with my father. Now with the pending engagement of me and Staci, the two families would be joined in a local dynasty. It would be Camden's equivalent of Prince William marrying Kate Middleton. And we would live happily ever after, I thought as I looked adoringly at my bride to be. Charles Buckman rose from the table with his wineglass raised and waited as the various conversations died down and everyone gave their attention to him. "I want to thank each of you for coming out tonight to help us celebrate this occasion. It seems like it was just yesterday that Staci and Troy and their classmates started school together. For all the crayon drawings that graced our refrigerator, for all the countless hours of helping you with your homework, for all the times we attended your school activities and supported you, Staci. For making your mother and me, the happiest and proudest set of parents possible as you've grown to be an adult, I wish I could properly express the love and feelings I have for you, my child." He said misty-eyed. Staci spontaneously got up and ran to her father for a hug as the audience burst in applause. "I love you and Mom so much, Daddy," she cried. That brought another round of applause. "Well Baby, now to the good part. For a graduation present, we are giving you a couple of tickets to an all expense-paid tour of Europe for the entire summer." Staci squealed in delight and kissed her Dad and Mom as they handed her a thick envelope. I started trying to calculate if I could take off that much time from work. No matter, if I couldn't, I was sure Staci and a lucky girlfriend would enjoy the trip of a lifetime. It would set back our marriage date but that would allow me to build up our nestegg while Staci had fun. I decided it was now or never and I got up and walked over toward Staci. I dug into my pocket and palmed the jewelry box in my hand. I went to Staci's side and Mr. and Mrs. Buckman stepped back graciously allowing me and Staci to be center stage. Staci looked at me quizzically as I stood beside her. I started, "I just want to take a moment to thank everyone for coming out here tonight to help celebrate our graduation from college. And while to Mr. Buckman it may have seen like yesterday, to me, it seemed like Chinese Water Torture." The droll remark got laughter from the room. "But, the one thing that made it all bearable is the remarkable woman standing beside me. We shared milk from the same carton in the first grade, got sent together to the principal's office for passing notes in the sixth grade," I said with a raised eyebrow that brought another round of laughter. "I finally wised up," I continued, "and asked her out for a date for Homecoming my senior year in high school. From there, we both went to college here and even though school and my job kept me from seeing her as much as I liked. It made me appreciate her all that much more." I turned to Staci and stared into her face. "And I do appreciate you, Staci. I've known for a long time what you meant to me. I have loved you since the first grade. I know what you will mean to me the rest of my life, because I intend to tell you, 'I love you' for the rest of my life. " I began sinking to one knee and presented the box into view and began to open it. I noticed Staci's eyes opening wide and she brought her hand to her open mouth. She began showing the sign of hyperventilating. "Staci Ellen Buckman, will you marry me?" By now, the entire restaurant was dead silent and focused on the dramatic tableau presented to them. They had drawn a collective breath waiting to be expelled in cheers for Staci's assent. I continued to gaze lovingly at Staci's face as the wide-eyed shock of the proposal was so evident on her face. Staci's eyes glanced wildly down the table, back to me, down the table, back to me. An unsettling nag began in my brain as the pregnant pause continued. What I originally saw as unbelieving shock now morphed into panic. Again, she looked down the table; ignoring me kneeling with the flawless two carat diamond ring stretched outward to her. "David..." she begged imploringly and bolted for the front door. There was the sound of a scrape of a chair being hastily removed from the table. An unbelieving and shocked audience caught a glimpse of someone chasing after Staci. The person turned only briefly to look at me as he ran past to chase after Staci. It was David Porter, my best friend and the guy I intended to ask to be my best man. The implications of Staci and David's actions sunk into the collective thought of the audience and everyone embarrassed attention was fixated upon me, the kneeling figure reeling from the event. I slowly got up off my knee and fumbled to put the jewelry box back into my pocket. I began walking zombie-like toward the rear entrance away from Staci's direction. I didn't look at anyone as I blindly negotiated the steps leading away from the building. My eyes full of unshed tears accompanied me as I walked past my car and began the long arduous trek home. ************************************** I sat behind my desk as the rays from the morning sun flooded my office. I swivelled my chair and looked morosely at the empty buildings decaying on the city square. One of those blighted buildings was the site of my proposal fiasco. Six years had passed since the humiliation before the entire town. Six long years of being the butt of jokes throughout Washington County. Six long years of being laughed at behind my back. The restaurant has moved on. Staci has moved on. David has moved on. The city moved on. The whole damn world has moved on. The only one who hasn't moved on was me chained by heritage and necessity to the Camden Bank & Trust. The intercom buzzed. "Troy, Mrs. Fuller is here to see you." I felt a slight irritation before I said, "Send her in." Before the door began to open, I was out from behind the desk walking to the door as it opened. "Let me get that, Mrs. Fuller," I said with some alarm at the big box the woman was toting. Damn it, Janet, you should have carried this in for her, I thought. I looked at the thin attractive brunette escorting the frail old lady. I took the box and quickly put it on my desk and then assisted Mrs. Fuller to her chair. "How are you today, Mrs. Fuller? Is there something I can help you with?" "Why no, child! I just wanted to bring you a lug of heirloom tomatoes from my garden. I still remember how much you love them!" Despite all the worries I felt, my spirit lightened as I recalled all the trips in Mrs. Fuller's garden as a child. Planting and digging up potatoes, onions, and peanuts. Setting stakes for tomatoes. Stakes for peas and bean crawlers to cling upon. Endlessly watering cantaloupes, honeydew melons and watermelons. Picking and shucking corn. Climbing apple, peach, and plum trees to gather their bounty. It was amazing that what now I perceived as drudgery was once a joy as a child. Maybe civilization has it backwards, I speculated. "Mrs. Fuller, can I get you something to drink?" "Well, I wouldn't say no to a glass of lemonade or sweet tea, if it isn't too much trouble." "Of course not! Miss Temple, if you wouldn't mind." Unseen by Mrs. Fuller, Janet Temple winked at me and said, "of course, Troy." She left to complete the errand ignoring the subtle look of irritation on my face. I sat in the chair next to Mrs. Fuller as befit her status of Very Favored Customer. "Are you sure I can't help you with something today, Mrs. Fuller?" I saw the hesitation. The kind old lady was struggling on how to approach the dilemma. "Mr. Williams—" "Troy, Mrs. Fuller, I'll always be Troy to you," I interrupted her softly. The lady smiled her gratification at my deferring to her status transcending mine. "Thank you, Troy. I have a situation. I need a personal loan of $20,000." At that point, Janet Temple entered the office with a tray with two glasses filled with ice cubes and a pitcher of lemonade. She poured the drinks and then excused herself. "...I need the loan, but I don't have anything to secure the loan," said Mrs. Fuller shamefacedly. Don't do it, don't do it, don't do it, don't do it, my brain commanded. "Can I ask you why you need the money, Mrs. Fuller?" "It's my grandson, he's finishing his last year in college but something happened to his paperwork for his student loan. I told him I would try to pay his tuition for him until the paperwork snafu is resolved." "How long would you need the money for?" I mentally sighed as I realized that I was going to do it. "I can pay it back in a year's time, Troy. He will have the paperwork cleared up on his other loan and that will be applied against your loan. In addition, he will be getting money from a grant and he will reimburse me. Also, he should have a good job after he graduates, so payments will not be a problem." "This is for Paul? Your daughter's eldest boy? They still live out in Seattle?" I enquired, trying to remember Donna's son and the few times I met him when they came to visit Mrs. Fuller. Then, I remembered being in lust with Donna Fuller so many years ago. But, that was just a wayward adolescent fantasy. I smiled ruefully as I put the past to rest. I mentally worked out the payments as we continued to talk and asked her if the monthly payments were in her range. She paused and asked what they would be for a year and a half. Not trusting myself 100%, I took out a calculator and told her the result. She agreed that was suitable and I dialed Tom Jenkins, in the Loan Department and told him the terms and to prepare the loan documents for Mrs. Fuller to sign. We spent the next thirty minutes recalling past events and enjoying lemonade. Then I escorted Mrs. Fuller to the Loan Department and directed the very capable Tom Jenkins to take care of Mrs. Fuller. Mrs. Fuller insisted on giving me a kiss on the cheek and said, "Thank you, Troy. You remind me of your father. Not too many bankers would give anyone an unsecured loan these days." "Mrs. Fuller, your family has always banked with us. I know your word is good enough," I assured the old family friend. "You just keep sending me tomatoes...and maybe an apple pie?" I begged and Mrs. Fuller laughed and said I would have one tomorrow. I walked back to my office only to find Janet Temple sorting through the tomatoes and separating the ripe reds from the greens. "What are you doing with my tomatoes?" I asked. "Troy, we're going to have BLT sandwiches for supper tonight." "Who is this 'we' you're talking about, Miss Temple?" I walked up behind her and nudged myself against her. She smiled as I folded against her. I knew her mischievous brown eyes were twinkling as I gripped her hips and felt her push her derriere against me. "By the way, it wouldn't hurt to be a little more professional here at the office, Miss Temple." My penis was already stiffening and seeking to probe her ass when she dreamily sighed, "Yes, Mr. Williams." She turned around and faced me and brought her arms around my broad shoulders. "You've gave her an unsecured loan, didn't you?" She gave me a soft kiss, "And you lowered the interest rate so we won't actually make any money on the transaction." "Yes, I did, Janet." "That's Ms. Temple to you, Troy," she corrected her errant boss and gave me another kiss. "If you keep being a sucker for every hard luck story that comes along, you won't be in business much longer." She moved to nibble on my ear. "If that happens, I'll just take my tomatoes and find a job somewhere." I kissed her cheek and neck and reached and gripped her tits. "Our tomatoes," Janet corrected as she put her hands over mine. "My tomatoes," I replied as I gently caressed her tits. "Ours" "Mine" "Ours" "Mine" A soft giggle was heard coming from my office. ********************************** It turned out that Bacon, Lettuce, and Tomato sandwiches were the fare du jour at my apartment that night. And Janet Temple was a much welcomed dessert. As dawn was beginning to break, I woke up and bumped around getting ready for my morning jog. Once dressed in my running attire, I kissed Janet on the top of her head which brought a smile from her as she stretched herself awake. "Why don't you come back to bed and get your exercise here?" "Don't tempt me. Are you going to shower here or back at your place?" "Why are you asking?" "Because I don't want to start taking a shower and get hit with ice cold water because you used it all up," I explained. "I could wait on you and we could share a shower," Janet suggested. I paused. "No?" She pouted sadly. "Well, I guess I better go home and get dressed for work," she sighed and collected her bra and panties off the floor. "When are you just going to start leaving some clothes here, Janet?" I asked. "It would simplify things." "Oh Troy, let's not get that started again. You go have a great run, I'll take a quick shower and I'll see you at work." She kissed me and pushed me on my way to go jog as she prepared to clean up. Interest I prepared to run by doing my warmup and stretching exercises. I looked up at my residence. Not too many people could say they lived in the same structure they worked at. Fewer still, would those be that lived in a three-story bank building covering a city block. As I had so many mornings, I admired the Greco-Roman architectural style of the matched granite stone and the Doric columns rising majestically at the front entrance of the building. My ancestor had built the first permanent building of the fledgling town. He had studied well the effect he wanted to project. Prosperity and permanence were the assurances that encouraged others to build. They closely copied the bank's architectural theme and the entire city square represented wealth, employment, and industry. Or it had, I sourly thought as I looked at the ghost buildings of the dilapidated city square. Now, my bank remained the last bastion. The final reminder of the past that brought so much regret. As I ran, the regulated tempo caused only the sound of my footsteps and breathing to break the silence. I used this as my quiet time. A time to reflect and focus. Foremost in my mind was the business; the Camden Bank & Trust. It was being besieged from enemies; from within and without. I had to remain vigilant every day since I had taken over as President of the bank. All it would take was to commit one wrong move and all my hard work and the lifework of my father and generations before would be taken from me. So many decisions to make and no one to help guide me. Not for the first time I felt all alone as I finished this run and staggered up the stairs to my third floor apartment. How I wished, I could forget all the troubles. A shower and a quick rest would have to suffice. People were depending on me. I stripped and gingerly stepped into the shower. Within seconds, the hot water dissipated into a cold spray of water. Another grievance I would have to take up with Janet, I thought as I rushed to bathe myself. Nine a.m. found me seated at my desk working as the official banking hours began. In reality, I had been working since seven a.m. shoring up deals for the bank's benefit. If all went well, it would continue to be this busy all day. At 9:25 a.m. the intercom buzzed. "Mr. Williams...you have some visitors." The oddness in Janet's voice alerted my defenses. Why hadn't she announced the identity of these visitors? A small voice mentally told me to refuse the callers, plead a heavy work schedule prohibited seeing any visitors today. Delegate another employee to resolve any problem arising. Realizing I had let an undue pause hang from responding to Janet's call, and I hesitantly told her to see the visitors to my office. The door opened and Carla Robbins, Susan Moix, and Staci Ellen Porter nee Buckman walked into the office. For the first time in six years, I was seeing Staci up close. The passage of years had been good to her. Her features had morphed from her previous angular beauty into more rounded features. She matured from being a girl into a young woman in the prime of her life. "Hello Troy," she sought desperately to catch my eyes. I knew she was trying to initiate a dialogue before any barricades could go up. In response, I waved my arm to the chairs on their side of the desk. Carla tried to initiate a hug with me but was made aware of my reluctance with any body contact with the three. If I refused Carla's hug, Staci could not be offended being refused. The three ladies promptly sat down in the chairs. I sat behind my desk. "How are you, Carla, Susan, Mrs. Porter? What can I do for you ladies today?" Staci winced at the cold civility present in my response. There was no warmness in the greeting, no sign that the passage of time had brought a desire to forgive the past wrong. She noticed that my gaze was fixed onto the high school classmates that accompanied her. "Please Troy, I'm still Staci. I would appreciate it if you'd call me by my name." "I'll keep that in mind Mrs. Porter. Once again, I'll ask y'all how may I be of assistance today?" "It's been ten years since we've graduated high school, Troy. We are on the reunion committee. We are trying to drum up recruits for the committee and support for the reunion," Susan took the lead in explaining the purpose of their visit. I remained silent. I had discovered in the course of my career that silence was a necessary and effective negotiating tool. Granted this didn't shape up to be the normal business deal I was used to, but the same principles applied. "Well, Troy?" Susan asked with exasperation. "I'm sorry, Susan. I didn't hear anything that requires a comment from me." Susan sighed, "Would you help out and lead the committee, Troy?" A minute passed before I replied. "Susan, isn't it traditional for the Senior Class President to head up the reunion committee?" Susan hesitated, knowing where the conversation was leading. "Yes, Troy, but—" "Refresh my memory, Carla." I turned to the woman I interrupted, "Who was the person that was our Class President?" "...David Porter." "That is correct, Carla. It seems to me that you are talking to the wrong person." "David has already said that he wasn't going to serve on the committee, Troy," Staci explained. I gave no indication that I heard Staci's comment or intended to respond to it. "We could really use your help, Troy," Carla suggested. "I understand, Carla, but since I will not be attending the reunion I don't see the need to be on your committee." I pressed the intercom button, "Ms. Temple, would you please come in." I could tell that the uneasy trio was searching for a new avenue of attack as all three insisted I had to attend. Before I made any comment, Janet Temple walked into the office. "Ms Temple, please escort our guests out of my office. I regret to tell y'all that I have a pressing engagement, so y'all will have to excuse me." "Come on Troy, you owe it to your classmates to attend our reunion," Carla valiantly insisted on one last effort. I whirled my attention back to my three classmates. "Oh, before y'all leave, I'd like to tell y'all a little story about owing people," I acidly began the tale. "A beautiful woman walks into a bar. No sooner than she sits down, a man appears before her. 'Madam,' he says, 'for your information I am one of the richest men in the world. I am so awed by your beauty that I am willing to pay you the sum of $10,000,000 to spend one hour making love to you.' At first, the woman is appalled at the suggestion. Then she starts thinking of all the things she can buy with $10,000,000. 'Okay, I will make love with you for $10,000,000,' she replies. Then the man asked, 'Will you sleep with me for $5.00?' Now the woman is quite upset at the insult. '$5.00! What kind of girl do you think I am?' She screams at the man. 'We've already established that. Now, we are just discussing price.' Do y'all understand the significance of 'owing' in that story?" I asked of my three classmates. "Perhaps, I can give you a better example. Imagine some poor dumb bastard thinking he found the perfect woman for him only to be humiliated when she runs off with his best friend. What the hell do you think is owed to him? The opportunity to jump and do her a favor the first time he sees her in years?" There was dead silence and icy glares for the insults bestowed. I was walking out of my office's back entrance which precluded me from the awkward situation of shaking their hands. I heard Staci's voice asking me to stop. Again, I chose to ignore my betrayer. I bounded up the steps and paced through my apartment. I continued to stalk around my apartment. I was systematically checking the views from the windows hoping to spot the departure of the trio of classmates that ambushed in to see me. I heard the door open and Janet's footsteps echoing toward me. I wheeled and hissed, "NEVER! NEVER! NEVER, do that to me again if you want to keep your job! Do you understand me?" She recoiled in shock from the venomous tone in my stressed voice. "...I'm sorry, Troy. I had no idea how to handle that." She replied in an abject apology. "Well, you damn well better figure another way if that...that...woman, EVER comes back to see me!" "They didn't tell me who they were! They only said they were your high school classmates," she protested. I paused a minute to calm down, but things were still awkward between the two of us. "Are they gone yet?" I asked staring out one of the windows. In my peripheral view I spotted Janet's nod to my question. I could tell that she was nearly in tears from my chewing out as she nodded yes, not trusting her voice to break out into a sob. "Then its time to go back to work," I brusquely walked out of the apartment to head downstairs to my office. Janet remained in my apartment to compose herself and fix her makeup before she made her appearance at her desk. When closing time came, I was left alone in my apartment for the entire night. That trend continued for two weeks as Janet focused solely on her job and I focused on mine. Then on a Thursday afternoon, right before closing Janet came into my office. With tears welling in her eyes she trembling asked me, "Are you ever going to forgive me?" I went to her and held her in my arms as she started crying. We went upstairs to my apartment and I did my best to make up for all the pain I doled out to her. By Friday morning things were back to normal. Saturday morning, we spent relaxing in my bed. We were engaging in pillow talk when she broached the subject. "Why do you hate her so much Troy? Why can't you get past her?" She asked as she drew lazy circles on my chest with her fingernail. I knew who she was referring to. I debated telling her that it was none of her damn business. I sighed, "You've moved here four years ago, Janet so you don't know the complete story. I'm going to tell you this one time, and one time only and I will never discuss this with you again. Is that a deal?" She looked at me with her big brown eyes and gravely nodded. "You know about me and her and how I made a complete ass out of myself at my graduation party by proposing to her. I know you must have heard that story a thousand times around this town." Her look told me the truth of my statement. Even after the passage of six years, I was still held in ridicule by the entire town. By now, my action was planted firmly in the town's lore and it was debated endlessly. "You have to understand we all grew up around each other, played with each other, went to school with each other..." I paused and then exorcized my reluctance of articulating their names. "David...and Staci were my closest friends since kindergarten. Staci would insist that we play house with her and we attended countless meals of imaginary pies and cokes and cakes and ice cream and candy. One day I would be the father and David would be our child. The next day David would be the father and I would be their child. Staci, of course was always the mother who dictated our actions." "As we got older, David and I grew into that period of childhood where we thought all girls had cooties and avoided Staci like the plague. Staci took it hard at first, but then she migrated to hanging out with all her girlfriends." "David and I were as close as brothers. We were at each other's house every day, playing Little League baseball, or in the Boy Scouts, or playing football. There was always something going on with us." I realized that as I began reminiscing that I couldn't help but have a faint smile from the memories. Well, that wouldn't last as I continued the tale. "We would still all see each other. All our parents socialized at the country club and parties and benefits. And of course, being in the same grade, we all had the same classes and teachers." "Then came junior high school and something magical happened to all the girls. Puberty started changing the girls into fantastic creatures. Boobs started appearing and asses filled out skirts and pants." "And like every adolescent male...well at least every heterosexual adolescent male, we started lusting over these girls we had spent years ignoring. But they weren't going to make it easy for any of us guys. So we were required to jump through hoops, like carrying books for them, or buying them a cheap bracelet or ring, or letting us know of another boy's attention." "That is what happened to me and David. We began seeing Staci in a new light and surprise...we both wanted her. And bigger surprise...we didn't want the other to succeed. And biggest surprise...Staci decided she wanted David." "You know even at that early an age to be rejected was quite a blow, but I recovered. I started dating and still maintained being friends with David and Staci." "Somewhere down the line, Staci and David derailed. He started cheating on her and he was open about dating others. It was messing Staci up and the week before Homecoming she came to me and asked me to take her out for Homecoming. I went to David and told him." "He said he was okay with it. He didn't intend to ever date her again. So we started dating and feelings grew between us. I started doing things outside of dating like helping her with her homework, washing her car, you know, things like that." "I even started spending time getting to know her parents better. I would go over there and get corralled into playing a game of chess and losing to Mr. Buckman, constantly listening to him lectures on whatever caught his interest. That was usually business, particularly concerning Buckman's Enterprises." "He kept throwing out these hominems, like 'In business, the big eat the small' or 'Do unto others, before they do unto you.' I would just sit there listening to the world according to Charles Buckman, hoping to impress him." "College came and Staci knew I was intent on preparing for our future. We had talked about getting engaged and marriage for a long time. She knew that I would be ready as soon as we graduated college. So this wasn't a bolt of lightning out of the blue." "She knew... We talked about kids and everything..." She should've expected..." I frustratingly groped for the words to make verbal sense of a situation that I still could not explain, much less comprehend. "She even picked out the damn ring." I commented while looking at Janet hoping this was making sense. Janet nodded and patted my arm to let me know she understood. Gathering my wits I continued, "I don't know when David came back on the scene. I never had any inkling that she and David were seeing one another. If she had told me...maybe I wouldn't be here today. Maybe, none of this would've happened. But I continued to see her every day at school and date her every weekend and I didn't have a clue anything was wrong." "So I get sucker punched in front of the whole world and everybody is laughing at me and talking about Staci and David's little Romeo and Juliet's romance. I never considered how Staci felt but it was enough for me that Staci decided to take him with her to Europe with her parents' graduation present." "She runs off with him and they go to London, to Paris, to Rome, to Athens and I'm stuck in Camden with my heart ripped from my body." "Every fucking day, I have to man up and go to my job and pretend that nobody knows what happened to me. Staci and David came home to a whirlwind wedding to alleviate all the rumors flying from their European romp. Afterwards, they were shuttled off out of state until the clamor died down. Staci and David were hired to work at one of Charles Buckman's subsidiaries in California until all the fuss died down. Meanwhile, Charles Buckman is pissed beyond belief for me putting his daughter and his family in this situation of public ridicule." "My little performance had consequences that were far reaching. The town was split apart on who was to blame for the fiasco. Unfortunately, Charles Buckman wasn't going to stand around and have people besmirch his little girl." "He came to visit me and Dad at the bank and laid the blame totally on me. Then he told us that he had been studying the matter and decided that our town needed another bank to break what he called our stranglehold on the town." "He was there to close out his accounts. They would be invested in a new bank opening across town, Buckman's Savings and Loans." "My dad tried to persuade him not to do that. It would cause a major rupture in the bank's finances. But Charles Buckman was not going to be denied. So he took out his money and my father had to scramble to find alternate financing to meet his obligations." "Word got out that he was in a bind, so he was negotiating at a disadvantage. Commercial lenders were charging him outrageous rates and he had to accept to keep the bank afloat. It was an hour to hour, day to day battle to keep the doors open." "But Charles Buckman wasn't finished. All of Buckman's Industry employees paychecks were drawn on Buckman's Savings and Loans and all the employees were pressured to open accounts in Buckman's for direct deposits, and debit cards, and credit cards. Then car loans and house loans were given at a rate my father couldn't match due to the problems we were having." "Customers were leaving by the droves. Buckman's ATM machines flooded the area as small businesses were persuaded to exchange our machines for theirs. Essentially, he had us in a stranglehold and he wasn't inclined to give up. He told all the local businesses that they would be well advised to move out to his location across town. They did, which caused the urban blight here on the city square." "That translated to less foot traffic into the bank. Which meant we continued to bleed away money. I was fighting right alongside dad every day tying to atone for my mistake that caused all this trouble. I persuaded my dad to give me access to some of the dwindling funds to trade in the stock markets and arbitrage transactions to staunch the bleeding. Luckily, I was able to be successful doing that. But, we continued to take hits." "My father was the president of the bank, but because of all the generations that passed there were relatives he was accountable to and they started raising hell that my father's stewardship was causing them to lose money." "Lawsuits were beginning to be filed by second and third cousins seeking to take advantage and wrest control of the bank from my father. He continued to get up and fight every single day. I was right there beside him." "But the stress was too much for my mother. Charles Buckman made sure that we lost our membership at the country club. Mom lost her positions on all the charity organizations. She was ostracized by the entire town...My mother, who never hurt anybody in the world was being ripped to pieces by every bitch in this town." "Her blood pressure skyrocketed and the day came when my Dad was called to the hospital. My mother had suffered a stroke." "He was never the same after that. He handed over to me the day to day operation of the bank while he tended to my mom. I would go home and watch him fuss over my mother. When he had spare time, then and only then he would discuss the bank." "She lasted two months before she passed away. My father was the embodiment of a dead man walking after that. Three weeks after she passed, he suffered a widow maker heart attack." "I lost everything I cared for in less than a year and now I was saddled with the responsibility with running the bank. I was inadequately prepared for that responsibility but now it was thrust upon me." "I scrambled for every penny I could find. And there were a lot of people that wanted to see me fail other than Charles Buckman to pick up the bank's assets. I was under immense pressure. Things were so desperate that I had to sell my parents' house and my house to tide me over at one point." Interest "That was when I moved into the bank building. All our business tenants had moved over into the Buckman's building so I had my pick of space. I converted an area for a kitchen and a bathroom but the rest is just open space. I had to shutdown the building's boiler to conserve energy costs. That's why I have trouble taking a hot shower. The entire building's hot water source is from an ordinary residential water heater." "So now you know why I'm living here in an empty oversized marble tiled cavern with inadequate hot water." "As far as the everyday struggle with the bank you have some idea of what I've been going through. From the first days that I took over, I've been scrambling to keep the bank afloat. I've had to resort to speculating in risky currency arbitrage and betting on minute to minute fluctuations in the market. Knowing all the while if anyone caught wind of the bank's exposed position they could cut us off at the knees." "I've had to offer loans to risky business ventures that no other banking institution would touch. And you know about the books... How I'm presenting a false set of numbers to show that the bank is secure. But, in reality, the real books shows how much trouble I'm in. If the examiners ever gets hold of them, I'll be finished and in prison." "That's why the Sorrant Oil field venture is so major for me. As you know, I've been working on this deal every day for the past two years. If I can pull this off, I'll be solvent once again. I can reimburse the bank and the creditors and stop robbing Peter to pay Paul. I can carry a legitimate set of books and not worry about having my head on the chopping block." "Information is knowledge, Janet. That is why I have all those files in my desk drawers. I have to stay ahead of everything Charles Buckman tries to do to finish me off. Do you think I like to keep confidential files on him, and Staci, and David? I have to just to make sure I cover all the bases." "Think about that. I have to keep tabs on the woman that broke my heart. I have to keep tabs on my once best friend... And I hate it... I fucking hate it, but I got to do it." I finally paused, amazed at myself that I finally broached the subject with someone and the psychological release I felt at the confession. Janet stared at me appreciatively at me for opening up to her and trusting her. "But Troy," she said, "are you certain that you can swing this Sorrant Oil deal? I mean , aren't you concerned about dealing with a Siberian oil deposit?" "Janet, as I explained it to you, my French contacts have done the heavy lifting to make this a reality. Once the oil wells strike the deposit, the oil will be refined at a plant that will be built on the coast of the Bering Sea. From there tankers will transport to the west coast ports of the United State and unload." "Just from the difference of time and distance from Middle East supplies will make it immensely profitable. This will be as close as a sure thing as there ever was." "The only drawback is there's a number of players that are getting interested in it. That is inevitable. You can never achieve total secrecy. The stock price for Sorrant Oil shares has been skyrocketing lately so somebody knows what it has under wraps. But, I'm close to getting a majority of the stock and after that I can dictate terms and the success will be assured. I just have to keep in the game regardless how high the stock shares goes up," I explained. "Then I can be free from the Buckmans. I can buy out the rest of my pissant relatives and stop all the lawsuits, have the bank on solid ground... And I can finally let go of David and Staci and start living my life again." "I'm ready, Janet. I'm ready to commit to someone and live out the rest of my days." As I stared directly at her, it dawned on her what exactly I was inferring. Her eyes widen and she caught her breath as I moved in for a kiss. Kiss after kiss, I moved to her delicate neck and stroked my face against her. Her arms moved across my chest as I adjusted my position. My hands moved against her familiar body. I moved lower to her chest. Kissing various positions of her tit. Lower to her ribcage. Kissing and nibbling. Her hands now on my shoulders urging me to continue to go lower. I paused to pay homage to her stomach and abdomen. The taut flesh reacted by jolts by my attention. I caught her scent. She moaned as I converged at her junction. Slowly, I moved my face nodding against her. She reacted to my scratchy unshaven cheeks moving roughly against the insides of her thighs. The discomfort she felt was being weighed against the portending pleasure I was about to endow upon her. Her hands blindly groped for mine and we interlocked fingers which limited me solely to using my lips, teeth and tongue. I tilted my head so I could gaze at her. Her face showed a desperate anticipation for me to begin as she stared back at me. Then slowly I opened my mouth and slid my tongue to taste her. Her body immediately arced in reaction as her legs lifted her off the mattress. It wasn't enough to throw me off however. I continued to lap, lick, nibble, probe and stroke her delightful little honeypot as she moaned and thrashed when I hit a particular apex for her. She disengaged my hands and I greedily brought them to help me pleasure her. I lightly caressed her labia as I continued to probe her with my tongue. Then deftly, I slid my middle finger in her. She yelped her approval and I felt her muscles gripping my invading digit. I began to slowly stroke it in and out of her. She reacted by shifting her body around and I felt her hands reaching into my boxer briefs to gain access to my stiffening cock. I sensed it becoming freed and immediately I felt her warm lips moving across the tip of the crown enticing me to full erectness. I felt the flicking of her tongue teasing the sensitive head and I moved forward to encourage contact. Slowly, I sensed the warmth of her lips sliding across my cock as she devoured my girth in the warmth of her mouth. I groaned my approval as her tongue swirled around my member. I enjoyed the vacuum of her suction as she encouraged me to climax by her suckling my cock. I had other ideas for my gratification. I finally eased away from her and my erect member sprung out of her mouth, throbbing for an alternate source of pleasure. I lined my dick against her pussy and slowly the bulb disappeared from view and I relished the warm moist haven it found. So much so, that I pushed gently in more and more of my penis. I moaned as her pussy tightened against me. She answered back with a moan of her own and begged me for a kiss. I moved into her clinch as we slowly rocked back and forth. The concept of time disappeared. The concept of worry was put on hold. All that mattered was the primal need to connect to another being. It was only for these fleeting minutes that I could forget the world. So, I made sure I treasured them. Janet began to shudder from a minor climax. Then another. And another. It worked wonders for my ego that I could provide for my woman. Her sighs and moans gave evidence that my efforts were appreciated until she finally begged me to bring her to the mountaintop. "I owe you one," she said dreamily. "God, I owe you a thousand!" She grabbed little Troy and swallowed him. In response, I engaged with more attention the task at hand and pursed my lips and sucked in her clitoris. The tremors erupting from her proved it was an effort well worth it. I rode out the storm and then reaped the reward of her frantic efforts to reciprocate by attempting to deep throat me. It was scant minutes later when I warned her of the pending climax I was trying to forestall. She moved away from my mouth and watched as I shot stream after stream of jizz on the bed sheets. She was adamant that she would never swallow my cum. So be it. There was no similar ban on depositing it in her pussy so I engaged in post coital play to keep her interested as I recovered for another erection. Moving against her exquisite body as she wrapped arms and legs around me as I gently fucked her and brought her to her second climax. From there, I repositioned her to her hands and knees doggie style and I held her hips firmly as I stroked her. I watched her buttocks reverberate from my pelvic contacts. She moaned and began to counter thrust against me. I moved my hand into her hair and tugged her head backward as I forcibly kissed her. She begged me to allow her to ride me cowgirl. I got in position and soon she was squatting over me, positioning my dick to the right angle to enter her. There she used her pelvis to squirm against me as I watched this beautiful vision approach her third orgasm. Just as she shuddered and convulsed, I erupted into her and she soon collapsed on top of me as I continued to kiss her in appreciation. It was noon before we finally got out of bed, showered, and got into our clothes. She told me she had to leave to visit her mother for an overnight stay. We made plans for Sunday evening. I spent some time corresponding with some oversea interests through the Internet and then decided to go for an afternoon run. As soon as I stepped outside to prepare stretching and warming up, I saw her leaning against my beat up pickup truck. As much as I wanted to avoid the confrontation I decided it was better to go ahead and get it over with. As I approached, she raised herself off my truck. "I didn't think you were ever going to come out today, Troy," she remarked. "What would you have done if I hadn't?" I asked. "I would have come back tomorrow and waited." "And, if I didn't show tomorrow?" "Then, I would have come to your office tomorrow and waited all day while you refused to see me and the whole town would have another laugh at our expense," she explained matter of fact. "Well, then it is a good thing I'm here so you won't be embarrassed before the whole town, isn't it," I replied with venom. The anger of the retort rocked her, but still she continued. "Troy, I just want to tell you I made a mistake, I made a huge mistake and I hurt you. That was never my intention!" She looked at me with pleading eyes. "For Christ Sakes, Troy, you surprised me and I panicked. You have no idea the pressure that a proposal puts on a girl. I was on display before the world and I was expected to give you an answer in front of the whole town?" I interrupted, "No Staci, you don't get off that easy! We had all those discussions! You even showed me what ring you wanted! So don't stand there and tell me how I surprised and embarrassed you! I wasn't the one who went running out the door with David Porter chasing after me!" I roared in response. "Yes, Troy, I ran and David ran after me and we were cowards and ran off together to Europe. But, I was coming back to my senses when I finally realized how I fucked up. I went to my dad and I told him that I was coming back to you because I loved you." "He went ballistic and told me that I had already made him a laughingstock and that I would not be allowed to repeat that error by getting back with you. He told me how he had publicly ended all personal and business relationships with your family and he wouldn't allow me to make him look like a fool again. Next thing I know I'm married to David and banished across the country until my dad saw fit for us to return." "My marriage has been a mistake, Troy. David, never loved me, he just loved the idea of being Charles Buckman's son. He just thought it was some colossal joke of sneaking behind your back and making a play for me. Then he felt pressured to help me after that night. But, he never loved me, Troy." "Otherwise, he wouldn't be chasing after other women, night after night. That is, if he can tear himself away from my father. David has filled some huge psychological role in Dad's life for having a son. And my Dad eats it up and nothing is too good for his son, David," she fumed sarcastically. Staci closed her eyes and said, "If there was some way I could take that pain away from you, I would. My actions cost me the best friend I ever had and I'll never get him back. It cost me the man I loved more than anything in the world." Even though I had steeled myself to remain cold and aloof, I reacted internally. I'd known this woman most of my life. Of course, she knew what buttons to push. So to defend myself I had to respond hard and push her back out of my life. "Yeah, Staci, you can take away the pain. Just tell me how I get over losing you? Tell me, how I get over losing both my parents in the same month? Tell me, how I survive day by day despite your father and your husband's attempts to ruin me? Tell me, how do I get over being a social pariah, being banished from the Country Club and every community organization? Tell me, how I can ever get a good night sleep without waking up from the nightmares you've caused me?" The bitter rapid fire interrogatories rocked Staci back and I saw tears well in her eyes. I knew I had to make my escape or be forever damned in my desire for her. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm going to go on my run and forget about you all over again." Barely holding it together, she nodded and I turned away from her and began to prepare taking my first stride. I almost tripped as she sobbed, "Okay, Troy, I made the effort and now I'll live with the consequences. One last thing, I wish you would reconsider your decision of not going to the reunion tonight. You still have a lot of friends among our classmates that would love to see you. And for those that don't, your presence would prove you aren't a coward." I pretended not to hear her last observation as I began my run. The last untainted thing in my life, the Zen of running was missing now as I barely stumbled a mile before I stopped at a city park bench and out of view from prying eyes began crying. I began to realize that if I lived to be a hundred that Staci would still haunt me. I remained there for the rest of the afternoon trying to decide what to do. ************************ I looked at the imposing building of the country club. Nothing was more a symbol of exclusivity in the entire town. Only the rich and powerful were welcomed; none others need apply. But, for certain special occasions, such as a high school reunion; the minorities, the downtrodden, the never haves, were afforded a brief rare glimpse into a lifestyle they would never know. I walked past some classmates gawking at the splendor of the surroundings and nodded hello to them. Even though I had been banished from the view six years ago, it no longer held my interest. Down the immaculate hallway with its plush carpet, decorative vases, landscape paintings...all the trappings of grandeur leading to the banquet room. There at the doorway was the obligatory table festooned with the Camden High Tigers logo. It was manned by my classmate, Susan Moix, who I had last seen at my office trying to badger me to work on the reunion. Her eyes widened at my approach. "Troy Williams," I announced to her as though I had to remind her who I was. "I didn't register so I guess I'll have to pay the late fee, won't I Susan." She flustered as she took my money and she said, "It will take just a minute, Troy." She began typing quickly on a laptop. I stood aside as Susan tended to other classmates who preregistered. They were given their name badges, complete with their senior picture and past accomplishments. Then they were given gift bags and were allowed to enter the banquet hall. Some of my classmates said hello to me, some ignored me, but it continued to be an uncomfortable atmosphere in the hallway. The laptop printer finally spat out my makeshift generic badge and Susan worked into a flimsy plastic holder, much different than the prepared laminated badges waiting on the table to be claimed. I managed to pin the badge to my shirt and took the proffered gift bag from Susan and I idly peered into it looking at the various cheap knickknacks inside. Not seeing anything I couldn't live without I deposited my bag atop a cluster of bags similarly abandoned at a trash can as I entered the banquet room. Maybe it was due to my heightened paranoia, but I sensed a drop in the volume of conversation as I entered the room. Not wishing to confirm my fear, I made a beeline to the bar. I hastily paid ten dollars for an overpriced gin and tonic cocktail. After sampling the drink, I was almost tempted to return the drink due to the cheap gin used. Instead, I walked away holding my drink as a shield not to engage with anyone. It only served to ward off most of my fellow classmates. Some persisted on conversing with me and despite the awkward initial comments, I began to enjoy talking to a crowd of old friends when David and Staci entered the room. David was attired in a business suit to differentiate himself from the rest of us. The event for the night was specifically casual dress. He sought to show his superiority from the onset as he looked down his nose to everyone. His aloof manner was befitting of a protégée of Charles Buckman. Staci on the other hand wore a simple black dress and was immediately flooded by female classmates that insisted she join them on the dance floor to participate in the Electric Slide. I watched as David tried to object and she ignored him to take center stage on the floor. The simple joy of doing the dance steps enticed a number of other classmates out on the floor to join her in enjoying the music. Once the song was over, she returned to David and I saw him make a comment that she apparently didn't like. Another song started up and Staci tried to drag David onto the dance floor. He resisted until she finally gave up. She remained by his side just watching the dancing until once again her girlfriends dragged her to the floor. For the remainder of the night there was the strange dichotomy of a cowered passive Staci by David's side and an animated relaxed Staci dancing on the dance floor. Never with a guy however. Whenever anyone approached Staci, they would ask David for permission to dance with his wife. He would always strenuously object until the guy left. Staci was continuing to be embarrassed by his behavior as the dance went on. The argument was getting more pronounced and strident with each rejection from David. Luckily for Staci, her girlfriends would continue to pop over to allow her to unwind on the floor. Her gyrations on the floor were much appreciated by every man in the room and I suspect there were a number of females that would have been willing to come out of the closet if only Staci beckoned at them. Still, loyally, she returned to David after every dance with his growing displeasure evident on his face. She would beg him to dance with her, but apparently titans of industry aren't allowed to have fun. Their agitations became more pronounced and there were fewer requests from people wanting to dance with Staci for fear of exacerbating the argument. That was when Staci looked across the floor and caught my eye. Without seeking permission, she left David and walked across the floor to me. Every pair of eyes were on us as she reached her hand out and said, "Dance with me." David's countenance could have caused serious injury from his glare. Hell, I had nothing to lose. I found myself trailing behind Staci as she continued to hold my hand leading me to the floor. "I thought you said you weren't coming to the reunion?" I replied, "I wasn't, until I was told how big a pussy I would be if I didn't show up." Staci giggled at my response as the intro to a slow dance number started. Her eyes widened as she feared I would reject the idea of body contact with her. Instead I shrugged and opened my arms into a close representation of a dancing pose. Interest She stepped toward me and I took her in my arms and we started swaying to the slow ballad that had gained popularity ten years ago when we were seniors in high school. I felt her hand shift up my arm. Then she stepped closer to me as we continued to slowly pivot around among our classmates on the crowded darkened dance floor. I could smell her shampoo and her soap and her perfume. It overloaded my olfactory sense. All those intoxicating desirable scents pushing me closer and closer to a point of no return. I closed my eyes and relished the fantasy in my head as we continued our dance. I was lost within my singular world of fulfillment. These few minutes made it bearable. Made me believe-- Suddenly, I realized that the music had stopped and the lights were brightly primed for a fast dance and still I had taken dance steps with Staci while lost in reverie. In full view of everyone, including David. Out of place, once again, in public. I heard a large peal of laughter to the side. Fred Carter was down on one knee pantomiming a proposal, his arm outstretched holding an imaginary ring as the people around him guffawed. I broke quickly from Staci and rushed toward him. He got up quickly from the defenseless position and looked concerned as I walked to him. The laughter quieted as I got closer. The DJ must have wanted to see what was going to happen because no song took up after the slow song. Fred Carter, now in business with his father owning the Ford dealership in town, my classmate, a guy I played with on the high school football team now paled as he anticipated me beating the shit out of him in front of his wife and our friends and classmates. He actually flinched as I stopped short of him. I looked at the pudgy balding man and compared him to ten years ago. The future did not bode well for Fred Carter. I spoke loud enough for everyone to hear. "During our sophomore year, Fred, do you remember the night you and your mother and your older sister came by my house?" Fred's eyes widened and I could tell that he wanted to beg me to keep quiet. "Your mother was bawling her eyes out, and you and your sister were doing so as well. You remember what she told my father, Fred? You remember how she told him about your father's drinking problem? You remember how she told my father how he pissed away every penny your family had getting drunk? You remember how she begged my father to help y'all?" "Do you remember what my father did? Do you remember how he went to your house and collected your drunk father and drove him to a rehab facility 150 miles away that night? Do you remember how my mother insisted that your family stay with us that week? Do you remember crying yourself to sleep in my room that night, Fred?" "Do you remember my father establishing a line of credit for your mother so your family could survive while your father was drying out? Do you remember my parents coming over to your house with groceries so you would have something to eat? That is after he got the utilities turned back on for y'all." " Do you remember how my father restructured your father's business loan so he wouldn't go into default and have my father repossess the business? Do you remember how my father made sure your father attended AA once he was released from the program?" "Do you remember how you and your father came back one night and swore that y'all would do anything for us in everlasting gratitude? Do you remember the day, your gutless father sent you over to withdraw your accounts over to the Buckmans? Do you remember how embarrassed you were at the treachery? Do you remember how my father treated you with dignity and respect?" "Well, remember that the next time you decide to insult me, you son of a bitch!" I said bitterly. I looked over the crowd. "I see at least eight more here tonight that I could relate a similar story. But, I'll let y'all off the hook because frankly there's not a damn one of you worth the trouble." I dared them, with eyes blazing. No one would catch my gaze. I turned and started walking toward the exit. At least no one would ever forget our 10th reunion. As I walked quickly through the parking lot, I heard the tempo of high heels sounding three times to each of my stride in an effort to catch up. I didn't need to be told who was chasing me. I swerved into a circle recognizing the futility of trying to escape. I ran my hands through my hair. And kept them on my head as she approached. All I could do was watch her come closer. I could only stare at her, helpless, miserable in my pain. "What?" she asked me to explain my silence. "I was just wondering if you have any idea of how beautiful you are," I said sadly, "and I was just wondering how in the hell I'm ever going to get over you." "...You don't have to," she quietly responded. "Yeah, I really do," I said. "And it's going to take some time, Staci, but I'll be fine in the end." "Please don't do this!" she begged, "I've lived that scene over and over every day as well, Troy. I don't know why I did what I did. I panicked and I ran away. For God's sakes, Troy, I was only twenty-one and I felt trapped!" She gripped my arms to prevent me from walking away. "When I went out with you on that first date you knew my history with David," she said. "You knew it and you still came after me. How does that make you any different than David?" "I didn't ever lie to you. I always told you I cared for him. Every God damned time that you asked me why I was with him when he treated me like he did. Don't you remember that Troy? I told you that I was with him because I loved him. I told you that every God damned time." "But you kept coming back to me anyway. And every time you looked at me...The way your eyes lit up when I was around, Troy... Do you have any idea how that made me feel? "And you treated me like I was a queen and I realized that I was falling in love with you. I hated the way David treated me, but I was conflicted. You would spend every second with me that you could. You'd come over and help me do my homework, or wash my car, or just hang around." You'd go spend time with my dad to get on his good side. I wish I had a dollar for every chess game I watched you lose to him, or listen to him talk about his business. "David kept cheating on me and the next thing I knew, I felt I was cheating on him with you. You kept asking me out and I began to accept that we were a couple and David was history. But, it still pissed me off seeing him date other girls. One of the reasons, David and I had trouble was he kept wanting my cherry. When I kept resisting he threw me away for girls that would drop their panties. I was livid about that! You never gave me an ultimatum and I was able to relax knowing I could go at my pace and I fell in love with you. Sure we didn't have sex, we just kissed a lot. But if you had ever pushed me, just a little bit, we would have and you knew it. But you also knew that I wanted it to mean something when I wore white at my wedding." "But always in the back of my mind I couldn't understand why David let me go. Why didn't he fight for me? How could he let me go to you?" "Then you and I were in college and we had our lives all mapped out. How we were going to get married and have kids. But while you continued to focus, I was still caught by my questions. And unknown to you, David came around to me and asked me to take him back. And I was trapped between the two of you." "On one hand, I had Mr. Serious; hardworking, dependable, and devoted to me. On the other I had Mr. Fun; dangerous, carefree, and unreliable. I know it sounds like a cliche, but the two of you made me feel complete." "When we had that train wreck of an evening, I panicked and I ran and I hurt you like I shouldn't have. I was so embarrassed by what I did that I kept running. I ran to Europe, I ran to California after I got married because my father banished me. It made no difference, Troy. Wherever I ran, you were still there in my mind." "So I decided to come home and face you. I owe you that. My life isn't going the way I wanted. I hate my life with David. I hate that he never stopped cheating on me, Troy. But it's not like high school when he cheated on me, like he always did, I had you to make me feel better back then. Now he cheats on me and I'm all alone, Troy." "The reality is that I belong with you. I made a bad mistake and I'm going to take care of that, Troy." "Yeah, but there's one big fucking difference, Staci, between our realities. The next day after you ruined me, you were still with David...and the next day...and the next. You didn't come back to me. I'm still locked into a hell not of my choosing. I wake up every day knowing the woman I love is with another man. Don't you see Staci? You've made your choice... and the circumstances afterwards will never allow us to be together, so please let me go." The heartbreaking pitiful begging I was reduced to caused her eyes to well up in unshed tears. I was breaking her hold she had on my arms. "I'm just going to walk away, Staci. Tonight was a mistake, just another big mistake" Where she got the strength, I have no idea. But, she grabbed my wrist and forced the palm of my hand against her tit. She looked up at me and said, "Now try to walk away!" She continued to hold my hand against her and God help me I started softly squeezing her and then I moved against her and began kissing her. She moved into my arms in acceptance. At once I was holding her familiar body, yet so different after six years of change. I tried to trace out her new form garbed in her dress. She moved her leg against mine to prolong contact. I immediately harden to the point of discomfort in my trousers. "Please, Staci, stop this now!" I gasped between kisses. She continued to throw herself at me and I continued to do battle with myself. Most telling was that I didn't fight her off. I wasn't rejecting her. I was meeting every moment of her passion with one of my own. She perched one leg off the ground and rubbed against me. I countered by grabbing her tight ass with both hands and lifting her off the ground. She responded by straddling me as I held her aloft. Slowly, she grounded her pelvis dryhumping into me. "Staci, I can't...If I do this, I'm no better than David. I don't have much left to me, but my conscience won't let me do this. If your marriage is so horrible, then leave him. Go divorce him and find someone to make you happy. There's too much history between us to overcome. Too much animosity and bad blood for us to ever get over. Your dad is going to destroy me or I'll destroy him. There is no other way." "I'm tired of you hurting me Staci. You have to understand I'll always love you. All this time, all this pain, all my pretense of hating you. It's killing me, Staci. I won't ever forget you, but I need closure between us. I need to be able to think of you as my friend, despite what is about to happen. If we continue tonight, I promise you that you'll hate me, or I'll hate you for the rest of our lives." My explanation was the catalyst for her crying jag as we continued to hold each other. Right in front of David Porter. He launched a haymaker as soon as I moved away from Staci and it caught me flush on the jaw. I dropped on the seat of my pants, disoriented from the blow. In a daze, I watched Staci prevent David from finishing me off with kicks as I sat vulnerable trying to clear my head. Lucky for me, David was followed outside with some of his minions; including Fred Carter who watched me with a sneer. The remaining group joined Staci in physically holding him back from maiming or killing me. David continued screaming at me, threatening me with death as they finally managed to haul him away. I continued sitting on the ground as the nausea and vertigo slowly abated. I groaned as I was finally able to get up. Again, I had the incongruous thought; Nobody would forget this 10th reunion. I limped home literally and figuratively all the while fighting to keep the contents of my stomach from rebelling on me. I staggered up the stairs and limped to the fridge. I collect ice in a dishrag and kept applying it to the most immediate hurt. Physical hurt that is—nothing was going to help with the newly ripped heartstrings I was suffering. Something strange was going on with my body. I started having trouble making my body perform the commands my brain were making. I felt something wet and oozy trickling down my neck. I finally managed to get my hand up there and with a slightly out of focus vision I could see blood on my fingers. After what seemed an eternity, I was able to punch up 911 on the speed dial on my phone and groggily told them my predicament. Fearing I was suffering from a concussion from David's beating, I was resolved to try to stay awake for the ambulance. Which transpired to being passed out when they arrived and took me to the emergency room. There was hustle and bustle as the medical staff had me jump through the hoops of my symptoms and how I had got in that condition. I simply told them someone had a disagreement with me and I left it at that. The consensus was that I was suffering from a concussion exacerbated from some inner ear damage that should heal without any complications. The upshot was I would stay overnight to be monitored in the event of my condition changing. Early next morning I had a couple of visitors. The Camden Police Chief along with the Captain of Detectives came into my room. When I saw them I assumed they were going to question me to ascertain who had beat me up. So I was mentally prepared for that scenario when they started throwing curves. It wasn't a matter of who I had an altercation with that warranted their concerns, but how I could account for my whereabouts after the fracas. In particular, when did I call 911 and whether anyone was with me prior to the arrival of the ambulance. I referred them to contact the ambulance service and the hospital to satisfy their curiosity of my timeline. If they had any other questions they could refer them to my attorney, I informed them. Both men left with a frown on their face. Normally, I would have been willing to oblige the police, but the hostile attitudes got my radar alerted. Within the hour I found out why. The hospital was abuzz with the news that Staci Porter was being tended to in the Emergency Room and was assigned a bed in the Intensive Care Unit. An unknown party had beat the holy hell out of her and she was comatose from the injuries and the medications used to treat her. My efforts to see her were easily defused by the medical staff and I felt a sense of frustration in not understanding what had happened. No doubt, my attempts to see her would add grist to the rumor mills. My hospital stay was extended another couple of days as the tending physician wanted to be doubly sure there was no extenuating circumstances from my concussion. There were only two circumstances that I was aware of. First, throughout the weekend, I had not heard word one from Janet, my would be fiancee. I could only assume she had heard of the spectacle at the country club and was pissed to the gills at me. Second, I had the misfortunate of having David Porter as a visitor. I turned to see him standing in the doorway of my room. The gloating grin was testament what he thought of my predicament. I continued to look at him as he relished the results of his sneak attack. "David, I can understand why you felt compelled to pick a fight with me, but why did you have to do that to Staci? " I asked. The sneer got bigger as he replied, "Do what? I have no idea what you are talking about!" "The only one with a motive to hurt Staci is you, David. What are you going to do when Charles Buckman decides to get involved?" "Don't worry about that, Troy. He and I have an understanding and the police have already been given their marching orders. Some 'unknown person' is the culprit to Staci's attack. When Staci gets better she'll be shipped back out to California to stay with her sister. Charles Buckman and I will continue business as usual of running you out of town like a beaten dog." I sadly shook my head. "Charles Buckman hates me that much? He would allow you to beat up his daughter and try to blame it on me?" "He can't stand the ground you walk on. You are an ongoing source of humiliation to his family. What you and Staci did at the school reunion was icing on the cake. He approved wholeheartedly of my measures to discipline Staci." "David, I can almost understand why he hates me. But, what did I ever do to you that caused you to hate me to the extent that you do?" My question startled David. For a brief second the malice in his eyes were replaced with a sense of doubt as he searched for an answer. "Mr. Holier Than Thou. Mr. I Think I'm Better Than Everyone Else," he harshly responded, "You thought I was going to let you get away with stealing Staci from me?" "You didn't let anything," I quickly interjected, "You dumped her and I went up to you and told you that I intended to ask her out. You didn't have a problem with that." "Well guess what, asshole? I changed my mind and decided I did want her and I snuck around every chance I could to get in her pants. And she still wouldn't give it up saying that she was saving it for you. Hell, even when we went to Europe after she ran away from you, all she did was mope and cry over you. She still wouldn't sleep with me. I was so pissed off." "Then we fly back into town and her father read her the riot act and told her that she would marry me, because he wouldn't tolerate any more scandals from her. So we had our shotgun wedding and she bawled like a baby when I finally fucked her on our honeymoon!" "So, now, I go out and have my fun and she gets to sit at home wishing that she never left her poor Troy and that is alright by me. Because when you are finally out on the street, she can have you as far as I'm concerned. I'll be running Buckman's Enterprises and you'll be dumpster diving if I can help it." "David, I'm just going to tell you once, you got a long way to go to get rid of me," I replied, "And don't think you'll be able to kick my ass. Even after you sucker punched me and kicked me, you never kept me down. I was getting up to fight back when Staci stopped the fight. I would've killed you." I said matter of fact. The implication that David lacked the ability to keep me down weighed in on him as he walked away. I wanted him to dwell on that fact. Somehow the days passed at the hospital. Janet was still Missing In Action. I was staying in touch with Tom Jenkins, who was running things on my behalf. I was contemplating weighing revealing aspects of the bank's affairs that he wasn't privy to when I was informed Staci wanted to see me. When I walked in her room I winced seeing the extent of her injuries and my animosity went to a whole new level. How could anyone do that to somebody they were suppose to love. She beckoned me to sit by her bedside and I held her frail hand. "I guess you've heard I'm being banished again," she said weakly. "I heard." "I'm sorry, Troy. I didn't mean to get you hurt. It seems like that's all I'm good for." She started to cry. "Hush, Staci. This isn't your fault. You need to leave. Get away from this, because however it ends, you are going to be hurt. Go out to California. Start over. Find someone you can love and put me and David and your dad behind you. Don't look back," I ordered. "I have someone here that I love," she insisted as she gripped my hand tightly. I removed my hand. "Will you love me if I ruin your father, Staci? Because, I intend to do that if I can. Can you stand the thought of being known in this town as the woman that betrayed her own father? I can't put you through that, Staci." Interest "Do you remember the joke I told in my office?" "You mean the one where you intimated that I was a whore?" She asked. "You aren't the whore, Staci. I am. You represented the millions of dollars offer. And I'm so willing to chase after you that I'd settle for your reputation being worth five dollars in the end. I can't hurt you like that. You are too dangerous to me, Staci. Leave and have a good life." I left hearing the sobs echoing in the room. The day that I was released I went to the bank and thanked Tom Jenkins for his stewardship in my absence. Janet's desk had been cleaned out and her copy of the secret bank books were missing as well. That evening as I was in my apartment loft, I heard the familiar footsteps echoing towards me. "Hello, Janet," I said without bothering to verify it was her. "I just dropped by to give you your key back," she responded. "Okay," I said neutrally. I waited. "Mr. Buckman wants to see you at the Country Club tomorrow evening to discuss business with you," she informed me. "Okay," I replied again. She waited for me to ask questions that I should be asking. Like, how did she know Charles Buckman and why did he chose her as an envoy. I wasn't inclined to oblige her. Finally, she left. *************************************** I entered the parking lot of the country club and turned off the ignition to my car and just sat there. I ignored the few passerbys that neared my vehicle as they entered or left the building. Summing up the focus and energy I would need to see me through this meeting; I began a series of deep breaths. Finally, I left my beat up old Chevy amongst the immaculate Cadillacs, Lexus, and Mercedes and approached the entrance. The receptionist commandeering the entryway was preparing for me to jump through all the hoops of announcing my name and the purpose of my visit. Then wait for an escort since I wasn't trustworthy to walk the hallway alone. I strolled by her as though she was invisible and ignored her shocked countenance and protests as they faded away while I continued down the hallway. Civility was not necessarily a priority of my current mindset. I would waste no energy on underlings tonight. Out of thin air, the country club manager, Thomas Clark appeared besides me matching my pace, stride for stride. "Good evening, Mr. Harrison, what a pleasure it is to see you here again," he said cordially. I glanced at him. Thomas Clark had been one of the few protesters that argued against my family ousting from the country club. It was a testament to his talents for overseeing the country club that kept him from losing his job in the general upheaval when Charles Buckman waged war on my family. "Good evening to you, Mr. Clark, it is nice to see you as well." Despite my overall intention, I felt duty bound to acknowledge my appreciation for his efforts. He nodded at me and with as little as was said and what was left unsaid, my companion and I continued down the hallway. "Mr. Buckman has reserved the study for your meeting tonight," he reminded me. We neared the study and he appeared on the verge of wanting to say something else to me. I slowed down to give him the opportunity. With a concerned look on his face, he began, "Mr. Harri...Troy...if I can be of any help to you after tonight..." I was touched by his generosity. "Thank you, Thomas, that means a lot to me," I assured him and we entered the study. If ever there was a memorial for old school male dominance it was reflected in the atmosphere of the country club's study. It wasn't as though women were banned from the room. It was just a matter of history and heritage that they were subtly discouraged from occupying it. The large room was resplendent with hunting trophies of various game animals mounted on the walls. Pictures of various and sundry expeditions festooned for viewing. I had a fleeting desire to see if any of the pictures were of any of the trips that my father had gone on. Or had in some imitation of Stalinist Russia was he pronounced a nonperson and the offending photographs removed. The faint aroma of expensive cigars competed with the hickory and oak logs blazing in the oversized stone fireplace. Lights and shadows danced on the plush leather chairs and sofas. The sheen of the polished mahogany furniture, several of which were crowned with Waterford's crystal decanters filled with various Scotch or liqueurs awaiting consumption. Shelves filled with rare first editions of literary masterpieces, many of which bore the autographs of the authors. A large globe sat in the corner which showed its antiquity with unchartered portions of the world and the names of forgotten countries and shifting boundaries. And in the exact center of the room; secure in his dominance of his universe stood my nemesis, Charles Buckman. His son, my former friend, David Porter hovered close by serving as a satellite. Glaring at me, just one command away from attacking me. He looked at his father-in-law desperate for the signal to destroy me. I watched the hulking form of Charles Buckman, remembering how intimidated I had been years ago when I courted Staci. All those little demeaning quips and jokes I endured as I studied the chessboard during one of the games he insisted on playing as I waited for Staci to prepare for a date. The inevitable gloating as he captured my King and crooned, "Checkmate," signifying yet another one of my losses. "Troy Evans Williams," he pronounced it as though levying my death sentence. "It has been a long time since I've seen you." "Not long enough, Mr. Buckman," I replied. "You wanted to meet with me, Mr. Buckman. So tell me why I am here, so I can get out of here and go home." "Why don't we have a drink, Troy?" He called over to the country club manager and asked him to go to the vault and bring him the decanter of Remy Martin Louis XIII Rare Cask, the manager stored for him. "I'm impressed, Mr. Buckman. What does a bottle go for nowadays?" "Last time, I bought one, Troy, it set me back about $25,000." "If I recall correctly, Mr. Buckman, the only time you toast with this is when you close a business deal." "That's right, Troy. I've closed a very major business deal and I feel like celebrating." "You mind if I ask what you purchased?" "Not at all, Troy," he commented as he took the decanter from the manager. Thomas Clark excused himself from the room as Charles Buckman poured healthy portions in the three brandy snifters and handed me one. "I just bought out the Camden Bank & Trust." He looked at me with his soulless eyes waiting for my reaction. "Strange, I don't recall agreeing to sell it," I said calmly. David had trailed and picked up the third brandy snifter and gave me a look of pure gloating. "You'll have to sell, Troy. Monday, the State's Banking Auditor is going to perform an audit on your bank. A copy of the real books you've been hiding from everyone will be presented for their review. After they compare them against the cooked books you have been fooling everybody with, an investigation will be launched. Then it is the simple matter of following the paper trail, Troy," he gleefully explained. "How did you find out about the books?" I asked. "Troy, I've always been two steps ahead of you," he chortled as he swished his brandy snifter to warm the beverage. "I know everything you've been doing. I hate to see that you never paid attention to any of the business lessons I taught you so long ago. I know about those ridiculous files you keep on me and my daughter, Staci and my son, David in your desk drawer. I know about all your business deals, Troy." He paused to light a contraband Cuban Cohiba cigar. I continued to wait patiently. "ALL your business deals," he emphasized as he puffed a smoke ring. "That includes the Sorrant Oil deal you've been working on. And, as I mentioned before, I have access to a copy of your books, Troy. That will make interesting reading across the country once that story gets out." "However...There is an alternative solution," Charles Buckman suggested. "If you cede over the bank to me. The real books will never be reported. There will be no investigation and you will get to walk away, rather than spend the rest of your life in the state pen on embezzlement charges." "Why would you want to take over a failing bank, Mr. Buckman? You buy it and you'll have to service the accrued debt," I asked puzzled for the reason. "Just call me sentimental, Troy. I'm remembering how you grew up with Staci. How you used to come over and play with her. Even when I thought you were going to be my son instead of David. I'm doing it for old times sakes. Think of it as not smearing the name of your mother and father. They wouldn't approve of their only child being a criminal." "As far as I'm concerned, you killed my parents, Mr. Buckman," I angrily interjected. "You've tried to destroy me and my bank. So after everything you've done to me and my family, you are going to blackmail me into giving you the bank. What happens to my customers when they can't make their car payments or house notes?" An irritated Charles Buckman replied, "What will happen is exactly what will happen to any of my customers that can't keep up. I will foreclose on them. I am in the business of making money, boy. If I told you once, I've told you a thousand times; in nature, the big eats the small. That was a lesson neither you or your father ever understood!" "I can still make this okay without you, Mr. Buckman. I have a pending deal involving the Sorrant oil reserves. Once that deal is signed, all my financial worries will be over. The money will be put back into the bank and no one will be the wiser. Even if you report me, there will be no way for you to prove it." Charles Buckman and David Porter laughed in my face. "You aren't going to be able to count on the Sorrant oil reserves, Troy. Unbeknownst to you, I have been buying up every share that comes available on the open market. I now own 63% of the stock and that number is climbing! I'll be richer than Bill Gates and Warren Buffett combined before its over and you'll be left in the dust, Troy. Checkmate, Troy!" I remained silent as he and David relished my obvious torment. He studied my discomfort as I began searching the room for an escape. Any escape. I glanced over at the table where an ornate chess set sat ready for a game. I thought of all the games I played against Charles Buckman and lost. I continued to stare fixated on the chessboard. The ebony Stanton pieces and their counterparts carved from ivory by a master craftsman many years ago. Now silently they were waiting for a game. Charles Buckman followed my gaze and a glimpse of a smile spread on his face. "You know Troy, it has been quite some time since we've played a game of chess. Why don't we make a little wager? If I win, David will take over as the President of Camden Bank & Trust and you go to the penitentiary." "And if I win?" I postulated as I took a sip of the very expensive cognac. The very idea seemed to have been a slap in Charles Buckman's face. I saw him redden and fight for control at the ludicrous idea. He narrowed his eyes and said, "If you win, you get to remain as President of Camden Bank & Trust and work for me for the rest of your life instead of going to prison." "If it wasn't for the fact that you've never beaten me in a game of chess, I might have been tempted to lose on purpose to keep you under my thumb. But I think it would be better all around for you to leave this town with your tail between your legs!" He malevolently hissed at me. He turned away and snatched a couple of chess pieces while he was shielded from my view. He turned back to me and stuck out both his fists at arms' length. In his hands were pawns concealed. All I had to do was guess right and I would start as white and have the advantage of the opening move. He continued to wait on my decision of which hand I wished to see open. I waited a half a minute before I brought the palm of my right hand underneath Charles Buckman's left fist. A knowing victorious gleam appeared in his eyes as he transferred the pawn to my hand. I clenched my hand in a fist, the pawn remained unrevealed to everyone. "Since I know I have the black pawn in my hand, I chose your remaining hand. I will start as white." I opened my hand to reveal the black pawn in my grasp. I saw a look of anger and frustration on Buckman's face as he hadn't calculated on my ploy. Ever since the first time I've ever played him, I was allowed the option of choosing pawns. Against the law of averages I always lost. It was only after I had fallen from grace that I dared to think how he accomplished that achievement. Through sleight of hand he always produced two black pawns for me to chose from. Even for something as trivial as a chess game he sought an advantage. We took our seats at the table. Gladiators removed from bloodshed by culture and civilization only. David moved and stood besides his father, serving as the loyal vassal he was. I made my opening move with a pawn. He instantly countered with a Knight's move. That assured me of his tendency to rely heavily on his Knights during the opening game had continued despite not playing him for six years. I made a move with Queen's Bishop. He brought out his other Knight. That confirmed he was committed to overplaying his Knights. Three moves later, my knight landed on his Queen's Bishop pawn. "Check," I quietly announced. He looked in disbelief at his predicament. My Knight was poised to take either his King or his Queen's Rook with my next move. Usually, the countermove is to have the Queen take the threatening Knight. That would not help him in the current game. My Bishop was poised to take his Queen in response if she attacked. The other usual countermove was to move the King and sacrifice the Queen's Rook. That could not happen here. Buckman had played his usual rigid game of protecting the King and denied him any maneuverability. He was trapped to take my Knight's sacrifice. Still, he searched for a way out. His eyes were darting to every piece on the board. I had leaned back in my chair to relish another taste of the brandy. "You're going to have to take my Knight, Charles. It is your only play." Again, he glared at me. Not just for having the temerity of capturing his Queen, but the audacity of addressing him as an equal rather than my superior. I continued to wait for the inevitable. Finally, in disgust he moved his Queen and took my Knight. I didn't hesitate as I moved my Bishop and captured his Queen. I held the Queen piece before him. I just looked at the piece, rubbing against the ebony princess. "Funny thing about in the other game we are playing, you had another queen and it still didn't help you," I commented. "What are you talking about Troy?" "Your queen, the spy you put in my office, Janet Temple. Your secret agent I was forced to contend with." I watched as he belatedly tried to bring his King's Bishop into action. I began setting up the next sequence of events. "It took awhile to realize who your queen was," I continued. "But, once I did she was easy to neutralize. All I had to do was feed her false information and I knew it would get back to you." I brought my Queen out to start doing battle as we continued to play. "You see, Chuck, there are two sets of books. But the false cooked books are the ones showing the bank is in trouble. The public books are real and show correctly that the bank is thriving." "I baited you into thinking that my bank was in trouble because I knew what your natural reaction was going to be. 'The big always eats the small,' isn't that what you always say, Chuck?" He had a stunned look on his face from my use of the patronizing nickname and my sliding my Queen diagonally across the board to capture his King's Rook. Again, I was able to quietly say, "Check." "I've known for close to two years that Janet was passing information to you Chuck. I knew you had her get intimate with me to get me to lower my defenses. I set up a couple of situations where I passed correct information to you via Janet. After you were able to stymie my efforts by her information you trusted her 100 %. Then occasionally I would provide her a legitimate nugget for you to feast on. That kept you hooked." Buckman moved his King out of harm's way into the next row. I then slid my Queen horizontally across the board and now his Queen's Rook was likewise a victim of the game as I removed it. "Queen and both Rooks gone, you aren't doing too good, Chuck," I observed. "But back to Janet. You relied totally on her reports and she relied totally on the information I provided her. You see, I constantly upgraded the false cooked books to indicate the gradual demise of the bank's assets." "Janet would verify the information on her computer and double check on my computer and then relay the information to you. Janet was never in a capacity to conduct a legitimate audit, so I continued to feed you false information." "That allowed me some breathing space to repair the initial damage you caused. What was scary was the steps I had to take over and over to build up the war chest I needed. I would commit every dollar I could to ride a half a point on a stock and cash back out of the market and consolidate the gains. Janet was always informed just a little too late to contact you in time for you to crush me like a bug. It had to be frustrating to see me dancing out of your grasp, day after day. " "Of course, for every gain I made, you were erroneously told I lost on four or five other transactions daily. You could and did verify the daily trading of the stocks in question and the reported trading activity would seem to corroborate Janet's information." Woodenly, he took my Queen's Bishop and I returned the favor and took one of his Knights. He made a move with his remaining Knight trying to pressure my King. I began ravaging his pawns with my Queen. "So you see Chuck, it won't amount to anything when the State Auditor comes in Monday. The real books will be presented, your information will be noted and an investigation will be conducted. The only evidence you have is a computer printout from Janet, yours and David's secondhand account of the information, and Janet herself." "There will be no corroborating evidence. The computer from Janet's office and my personal computer are already missing in action and replaced with new computers with only the correct numbers showing. You will never find the hard drives with the erroneous information you relied upon. The audit will take about a week and the final report will exonerate me and my bank." Now my Rooks were free as the end game approached. I took his King's Bishop. "So you see Chuck, your plan is going just about as well as your chess game. You underestimated me and now you are paying the price." His remaining Knight fell, Buckman's last major piece besides his King was his Queen's Bishop. I moved my King to a dark square, now his Queen's Bishop would remain impotent against my King. With my Queen and my Rooks, I began forcing his King to retreat. One torturous move after another and still Buckman would not concede. But I didn't want him to. I wanted his King trapped like a rat and finally we were there. My next move would have him in checkmate and he knew it. His face was burning in anger at the humiliating defeats I had presented him this evening. But there was oh so much more that was coming his way. "So, Chuck it looks like I've beaten you for the first time in chess. The moral of this story is never underestimate what lengths your daughter's horny boyfriend will go to score brownie points with her father, including tanking chess games." Interest "I guess I can count myself lucky that I didn't windup going with you and your drunken buddies on that Alaskan Hunting Safari. The thought of having to hang around you and suck up to you for an entire week makes me still want to vomit to this day. Thank God, David had no qualms to kiss your ass every day. David automatically lurched towards me eager to physically confront me until he saw the eager anticipation in my eyes. I think he realized that if we got in a fight that I would not stop until one of us was either seriously injured or dead. He wasn't ready to commit to that level. I stared at him for awhile and then gave the insult of dismissing him as a viable threat and continued my dissertation. "I know fostering Janet on me was your idea, Chuck. But which one of you came up with the idea of sending her to my bed, you or David?" Neither one owned up to it. "I guess I'll never find out how that came about. Maybe one of you is to blame; maybe both of you independent of each other hinted to Janet to try to kindle a friendship; or maybe, Janet did that of her own initiative." "What I do know is how it tore me apart again to remind me of a girl I cared about betraying me. What a brilliant idea to keep me off balance as you plotted to steal my bank from me. Not only would I have to relive the anguish, but I would also suffer the humiliation all over again every day." "So does it piss you off Chuck? The fact that I get to live to fight another day? That my very existence reminds you of the sins you've committed against my father?" "Now, normally, pissing you off would be a cause for concern, because even though I've thwarted your plan and kept my bank, I could look to see you regroup and launch another attack. But here is where the genius of having a queen like Janet comes into play," I continued to lecture Buckman as though he was unable to stop hearing about the trainwreck I've engineered for him. "I know she also told you about the Sorrant Oil Reserves that my bank has relied so heavily on to pull it back into the black. Just imagine, an estimated multi-million barrels oilfield that has yet to be tapped into. Sounds too good to be true, doesn't it Chuck?" "And, it is too good to be true, Chuck. Once again, I fed you false information through Janet. I created the Sorrant Oil Reserves out of thin air, Chuck. You were so intent in believing everything that Janet told you that you failed to do your due diligence. Why should you? I certainly wasn't devious enough to outwit you. It wasn't like I had exhibited any guile before. And you knew I could not dare take a misstep. So anything I invested in had to be bona fide." "Because of me you saw the vision of a mythical El Dorado. By investing the seed money of $100,000,000 you would realize profits in the billions. That you would destroy me was only the cherry on top." "You pored over all the reports submitted on the test fields and engineering reports that promised a sure success. All those reports from my desk that Janet purloined for your benefit. All those reports from strawmen that I created. They only existed in my mind and by my hands. But with enough paperwork created, I kept pushing you closer and closer to the edge until you jumped off the cliff voluntarily." "In the course of all the international business dealings I've had to engage in I've had ample opportunities to discover enough slightly unethical businessmen that would help me run a scam on you for a percentage. I created a series of off shore dummy corporations with their help. Each time you purchased Sorrant stock, your money was funneled right back to me." "I created a false bidding war which continued to drive the stock up and made you lose your money that much quicker. All the debt you were incurring was driving the price of Buckman Incorporated stock down. And I bought it up cheap with your own money. Through a syndicate of holding companies and mutual funds I now own a majority of your company, Chuck." Charles Buckman's complexion had undergone an amazing transition. Instead of the reddened anger he had exhibited, he now had the shocked look of a ghostly pallor as I continued to hammer him. "Within a month, there will be a new slate of the board of directors of Buckman Incorporated. All of which will be handpicked by me. The first order of business will be to oust you, Chuck on a vote of no confidence. The second will be to vote me in as chairman of the board. The third will be to change the name of the company to Harrison Williams Incorporated in honor of my father." "I realize that you will still be rich from your holdings, Chuck, but your legacy is gone. And that is what is important to you. The days of you being the benevolent despot of this community are over. That elaborate estate of yours, the Rolls Royces you and your wife drives, the condos you own, the private jet. All of it is in the name of the company for tax purposes will belong to me...I'll let you keep your mistress however." Charles visibly winched from my revelation that I knew of his secret life. David looked on stunned as his indomitable father developed feets of clay. "You will spend the rest of your life complaining about me to the FBI, the Security Exchange Commission, and every other law enforcement agency you can think of and it will not bring your money back to you. I covered myself with countless layers of defenses and I'm still adding layers." "You will grow old and bitter at your impotency to unravel my dealings. The political influence you once enjoyed will fade away and you will be left all alone shouting into an empty room for your revenge." I finished the last dregs of the cognac. I leaned forward to Charles Buckman, now gulping air as though he was a fish out of the water. I moved my Queen into the final row. "You see Chuck, you've been wrong all along about your business/nature analogy; It isn't the big that eats the small. It's the quick that eats the slow." I reached with one finger and slowly toppled his King. "Shah Mat," I hissed the etymological Persian term that over centuries had morphed to the term, "checkmate." The King is captured. I walked out of the room without bothering to look at the inhabitants. The ensuing fallout was dramatic and kept the town busy in gossip for months. I did indeed oust Charles Buckman and David Porter. Once, out of their comfort zone, they turned on each other blaming one another for their downfall. Mrs. Buckman divorced her husband at the public revelation of his latest mistress and proceeded to wrestle millions away from him in the divorce settlement. As I suspected, Charles tried to get the authorities to investigate me to no avail. With the loss of his wealth so came the loss of his political power since no one truly admired him without his money backing him up. His mistress left him for greener pastures and he engaged in a series of relationships that continued to create his downward financial spiral. It was pathetic to see him continue to assume the air of a VIP when he was the town's laughingstock. The town was shocked to wake one morning to hear of his suicide by shooting himself. The funeral was closed for family only. Staci and her sister flew in to attend and flew back out immediately after it was over. She didn't try to contact me. I knew she blamed me for her father's death. Still, David Porter tried to crash the funeral to convince Staci to stop the divorce proceeding she initiated when she was in California. After his failure, he came out in public with his relationship with Janet Temple. Yeah, my Janet Temple. They left for whereabouts unknown. ******************* "Power is an aphrodisiac," Henry Kissinger once surmised. I tend to agree with him. Twenty three months after my successful campaign against Charles Buckman I was still the lucky recipient of the attention of many lovely ladies. I harbored no false illusions that somehow I had grown more handsome or became more virile or that my personality had completed a much needed makeover. No, all I represented was the potential to an unending source of money, security, and prestige. Was I upset about it? Not in the least, I knew what the game was and so did the ladies. We satisfied desires for physical connections and I made damn sure that none of them made any emotional connection. I made sure that any financial obligations by my lovelys pressed upon me were minimal and transitory. In my shallow world that was enough to allow me to cope. Still sometimes, in the dead of the night, I would leave my slumbering bed partner for the night and spend time just watching out from my third story window on the quiet courtyard of the city. Still, looking for someone to believe in. Standing as a sentinel over my moonlit city that was going through a rebirth. With me leading the newly named Harrison Williams Enterprises, I sought out a number of manufacturing companies to relocate to Camden to end its history of being known as a one company town. By offering commercial loans at a very low rate, and persuading state officials to offer various tax breaks; a large number of companies decided to take advantage of the offers. The result was a boom time for the city of Camden. I initially anticipated that the Buckman's Financial Plaza would soon become reminiscent of what the downtown area once looked like; a deserted concrete ghost town synonymous with the failure of Charles Buckman. But, I commissioned a study and found that it made viable sense to allow the Buckman Financial Plaza to continue in business and to prosper. People psychologically wanted (and needed) the option of a choice. People like Fred Carter, my classmate running the Ford dealership. Fred would have resented and chafed at having to kowtow to doing his banking business with me at Camden Bank & Trust. But, give him the fiction of doing business with Buckman's Savings and Loans and he was like a duck in water. What did I care what entity got the money as long as it all channeled back to me. Oh, I still indulged in some ego stroking moments. The Camden Country Club did a never before reversal of a member's ouster and extended a membership to me. I suppose, after word got out that Harrison Williams Enterprises was contemplating placing a landfill adjacent to the golf course that it was felt that my opinion might sway the board of directors at Harrison Williams. I thought I spotted quite a few looks of hostility and irritations each time I came back to the country club, but as long as they left me alone, I left them alone. Still, for the sheer bedevilment of it I made it a point to promote minority membership and convert the study to a daycare facility once it was remodeled. I also took supper each night at the club as a show of my power. I took advantage of the situation and saw to it that Thomas Clark, the manager of the country club got full autonomy in running the club. He listened to my suggestion that the restaurant be improved to a five star facility. Now, I had somewhere I could take business luncheon partners to have a great meal or a game of golf, or both. One of my fondest memories was playing a round of golf with the female Chief Operating Officer of a corporation that I wanted to do business with. She sliced her second shot at the par five dogleg at the 13th hole. Somehow, we found ourselves together in the thicket of woods and found a new source of entertainment for the golf course. At least, I finally got some pleasure out of the game of golf. I could finally understand a little bit of the Zen of golf, albeit, in a different form than what was expected. Hey, you enjoy your type of hole in one and I'll enjoy mine. In fact, the same COO came back for another visit and lo and behold, sliced her shot right back into the same thicket which required us to disappear into the woods again. We were having a leisurely supper at the club enjoying the risque double entendres about the round of golf when Staci arrived. To say I was discombobulated would be putting it mildly. I realized the morsel of food poised on my fork had fallen off as I kept the utensil suspended in the air. My companion frowned at the break of conversation and turned to watch as the bewitching woman approached our table as I placed the fork down. She wasn't the only one. The entire dining area hushed as everyone focused on Staci. Christ, I hadn't seen or heard from her since she left two years ago. And now I had the weight of the fallout of what happened to her father and David to contend with. I mentally prepared for the showdown confrontation. I would try to manage this with what grace I could. I at least owed her that. Her focus was directed solely at me as she walked toward me. I don't know if her inattention to my dinner companion was intentional or not, but it apparently held no interest in Staci that I was not alone, or that we were in the crowded dining room of the country club. Now she stood by my chair, towering over me as I prepared for the humiliation that was sure to come. Then she knelt down by my chair, down on her knee and said, "I made a terrible mistake years ago. I'm here to make up for it, if you'll have me. Troy Williams, will you marry me?" There was no mistaking the sincerity in her voice, or in her face. Somehow, she was willing to look past how I destroyed her father, her family's fortune, her husband. All that concerned her was that she loved me and she was willing to put it out on the line for me. In a microsecond, I was pondering, should I...could I be just as forgiving? Could I let go the pain and be with the one woman that I so desperately wanted to be with? Would my ego allow the betrayal of my vengeance to be countered by her public ploy? Did the ghosts of my parents look over my shoulder begging me to let go of my past and join the only woman I could truly love? I was cognizant of the expectations of the unintended audience. Sitting across me, my dinner companion was waging a gamut of expressions on her face. There was the shocked stunned look as she reacted to Staci's proposal to me. There was an apparent look of jealous hostility of this breach of etiquette that can only be fostered by two beautiful women in direct competition. And there was something hidden in a clinical detachment as she watched the events unfold. Now, I found myself with the table turned. Now, I caught a glimpse of the pressure that every woman experience by a proposal. This was what it must have felt to Staci when I put her on the spot years ago. How could I experience all the reasons to say yes and no at the same time flood in my brain? I so desperately wanted my heart to say yes and my fears wanted me to say no. And I was being pressured to respond in public. Just as I subjected Staci on that fateful evening so long ago. "No." I wasn't sure I actually said it until I saw the calm composure of Staci's face crumble and tears welled in her eyes as she staggered up, maintaining the last vestige of her dignity as she walked out of the dining area with her head held high, ignoring all the gawkers. I don't think I ever loathed myself more than during that moment. Excited murmurs erupted throughout the room as I quietly signaled for the manager, Thomas Clark to approach my table. "Yes, Mr. Williams," he enquired. "Thomas, I know how impossible it is to keep things quiet during this age of social media. That said, I need you to let everyone know how unhappy I will be if I hear one word of this on Twitter, Facebook, Youtube, or any other site that will embarrass Ms. Buckman," I quietly instructed him. "I understand, Mr. Williams and I will take care of it." He left the table and went directly toward Fred Carter's table. After less than a minute of conversation, I saw Fred blanch and began furiously deleting something off his smartphone. When he was finished, Fred looked over at me with a worried look on his face. Thomas Clark had already left to go to the next table. Within minutes, Thomas Clark had gotten the word out that should anyone be so foolish as to publicly discuss the event ran the risk of incurring my wrath. After what I had done to Charles Buckman and David Porter, no one wanted to test me. I turned my attention back to my dinner companion. She had a strange look of bemusement on her face. "Well, I never had that happen on a dinner date before," she looked me in the eyes. "Really?" I finished the last of my wine, "It happens to me all the time," I drily explained hoping the tongue in cheek response would mask the raging emotional boiler inside me as I looked back at her. She attacked me before we even got to my car. By the time I was in the driver seat, she had me unzipped and was sucking my cock for all it was worth as I started the vehicle. How I arrived back at my place without having a wreck is something I will never understand. She jumped onto me straddling my body and I carried her up all those steps as she furiously kissed me. When we got to my bed, she ripped off my clothes and began giving me the Fuck Of The Ages. How she managed to keep me erect the entire night was an inspired mix of enthusiasm, experience, and downright debauchery. As dawn broke, we sat at the kitchen table, bleary eyed and exhausted as we shared cups of coffee. "I think I'll call a cab to take me back to the airport so I can fly out early to my office." "What is your rush?" I asked. "No rush, I just know when it is time to leave. Last night, I was pissed at that woman for disrespecting me and proposing to you in front of me. That is why I took you home and fucked the everloving shit out of you. " "But three things let me know we could never have that much of a future. One, that woman truly loves you to force herself to do something that publicly. Two, I could never do that for any man so whatever we are it isn't to the point that I would be willing to go that far for you." I could only nod to her comments as I found agreement with her. She was fun, but we both knew we weren't eternally matched for each other. "You mentioned three things. What is the third?" I asked. "Last night everybody in that room could look at her and tell that she was in love with you. I was looking at you the entire time and could tell that you are in love with her. In love or business, you don't set out in something you can't succeed at. I've already lost this fight." I watched as the taxi drove off carrying her to the airport as I weighed her words and contemplated my next move. I only had to wait less than twenty-four hours. Staci showed up again at the country club as I was dining alone and went to her knee again and publicly proposed to me again. Once again, I suffered through the turmoil of conflicting emotions as I was being put on the spot once again. Somehow, once again I managed to say no and once again my negative response caused Staci the pain of rejection and she slowly walked away trying to keep her composure as tears streaked down her face. The room erupted again in a buzz of excitement and I called Thomas Clark over and requested he repeat his service of the night before. I knew it was impossible to keep people from a whisper campaign of the event, but I could still attempt to limit the damage to being only local gossip. The third night the dining room was jam-packed by people anticipating Staci's arrival. They weren't disappointed as she did show up and propose to me again. Unlike the audience, Staci was disappointed as I once again refused to accept her proposal of marriage. This time it was unnecessary to instruct Thomas Clark to inform the people not to air any of the event they witnessed. He automatically went into damage control mode. Staci showed the next evening and left disappointed. And again the next night. And the next. And the next. Interest The event continued each evening. A week passed. Then a month. And Staci continued to appear to propose to me each evening. I couldn't understand how she managed to endure that much pain and rejection. But every night she appeared, hoping I would say yes and leaving each night with her heart ripped apart by my refusal. Her friends begged her to stop and to salvage what little pride she had and start over away from our hometown. She continued to ignore them. Then a few brave souls approached me and suggested that I stop dining at the country club so to put an end to the farce. I ignored them. Night after night it continued. One change was that I never took another date to dinner at the club. I could at least manage to keep the conflict just on the two of us and not subject anyone else to the spectacle. It was on a Friday evening and I was waiting. By now the initial clamor from mine and Staci's little drama tableau had settled into a lethargic acceptance by the crowd. Many began to not notice Staci's hopeful arrivals and sad departures. There she was right on time, still taking care to dress up for the occasion and still hoping against hope that she could persuade me to change my mind. She walked over and began her well-practiced kneeling when I raised my hand to stop her from lowering herself. "Staci, this marks a year since you've been back and proposing to me to marry you. Every night I say no and yet you keep coming back. How long are you going to keep doing this?" It was evident that she was flustered from the change of the ritual. But, she recovered and said, "Troy, I'm going to keep coming here every night and propose to you in hope that you finally accept that we belong together. And it doesn't matter if it happens tonight, or tomorrow or whether it happens years from now. I will do everything I can to make up for the mistake of not accepting your proposal." The heartfelt response resonated with her sincerity. "You know your batting average really sucks at this." She ignored my futile attempt to interject levity into the situation. "All I have to do is be right one time and then both you and I can spend the rest of our lives batting 1,000." "Look, Staci, I haven't had as much practice at this as you have, but perhaps I can do better." Before it registered with her, I had slid out of my chair and I was kneeling before her. My hand went into my pocket and gripped the object. Now as it sunk in Staci cried, "Oh my God! OH MY GOD, TROY!!" Tears of joy sprung from her eyes and her hands went unbelieving to her mouth as I opened the jewelry box and presented the ring for her view. "Staci Ellen Buckman" "Yes!" She screamed. "Will you-" "Yes!!" "marry-" "Yes!! Yes!! Yes!!" "me?" "Yes! Yes! Yes! Oh my God, yes, I'll marry you!" She pulled me to my feet in a display of adrenalin rush and held me close and kissing me as the room erupted into wild applause. She was sobbing in my ear, "Thank you, Troy! Thank you for making me so happy!" Somehow, despite holding on to me fiercely, I managed to get the ring on her finger, which brought on another round of smouldering kisses. I didn't think it was possible to persuade her to unclench from me, but eventually her girlfriends who were present had got her away from me as they ohhed and awwed over the ring. And, of course, began promptly planning for the wedding. I took Thomas Clark aside and told him to put everybody's bill on my tab. Yeah, even for that bastard, Fred Carter. I also told him to break out that rare bottle of cognac I had inherited when I took over all of Charles Buckman's assets. It was time I polished off the bottle with a toast shared with my bride to be. It was time to start letting go of the past. *************************** I watched her as she zeroed in on me like an unsteady kamikaze. She clutched in her hands a large yellow-reddish object. I tried to prepare myself in the event she chose to hurl the object at me at close range trying to anticipate the trajectory of where it would hit my body. Instead she reached out to have me take the item from her. "Peace!" she proudly announced. "Peach!" I corrected her. I emphasized the "ch" to distinguish to her how to pronounce the fruit. She nodded with the assurance of a three year old and repeated, "peace!" With that chore completed she turned around and waddled back toward the waiting bushel baskets full of the ripe, succulent fruit. If history repeated itself, I would soon be the recipient of another peach in a few short moments. I felt and softly squeezed the peach in my hand and sniffed it. It was ripe, ready to be devoured. I doused the fuzzy fruit in the pail of watery ice which had been utilized to hold the few longneck bottles of beer I rewarded myself with for completing the harvest. Then, using a pocketknife I began to half, then quarter the fruit, and removed the peach pit. Then I cut it into smaller sections so Karen, my child would be able to enjoy the tasty treat. True to form, Karen returned with another peach and held it out to me, "Peace, Daddy!" She demanded. Next to me, the love of my life started laughing at us. I looked over at Staci and smiled at her before returning my attention back to Karen. "Peach!" I repeated to correct her as I handed her a small wedge of the fruit. Her eyes gleamed as she tasted the fruit and pulp and juice smeared her face. Somehow, she always managed to leave the skin uneaten which would be deposited on my shirt. "Don't feed her too much, it is too close to suppertime," Staci reminded me. "I won't, Honey," I said as I took the opportunity to swig down another gulp of the Nectar Of The Gods and the cold amber liquid slid down my throat. "And no more beers or you'll be totally useless while I r-a-v-i-s-h you tonight." "Honey. She's three years old. She has no idea what that word means." I reminded Staci. "It never is too early to get in the habit. I don't want her to blurt out a word. She has no business repeating in public!" "Okay, I see your point. But as long as I get to keep eating your peach, you can have one of mine." I handed her a peach slice as a mischievous grin appeared on her face. "I intend to let you eat my peach all night long," she smiled tantalizingly. "Just remember. I got to unload these baskets at the Farmer's Market early in the morning." "Troy, that means we need to get an early start tonight so you can be ready to go in the morning!" The leering look on her face told me she had plans for me in the morning as well. "But, to help you out, call up one of those kids you hired as helping hands and delegate him to do that chore for you tomorrow, I think something is going to crop up and will need our undivided attention." I smiled back and then looked back at the acreage that consisted of our residence. When we married, I was content to remain at the bank building, but Staci was adamant that she wasn't going to raise a family in a bank building. I called my old family friend, Mrs. Fuller. She had gotten to the age where it was difficult to tend to her farm. Add the fact that her daughter was insisting that she move out west to live with her. End result; I purchased the Fuller's farm and a couple of other tracts of land that would allow me to be fully occupied as a gentleman farmer, but not overwhelmed by the task. For all my commercial enterprises, I had good managers overlooking my assets and I continued to supervise to make sure the engine ran efficiently. That no longer took every waking second of the day. I soon settled into learning about crop rotations, irrigation, and pest control. Staci, was hard at work renovating our new homestead and it wasn't long when she informed me of the need to remake one of the rooms a nursery. Karen came into our lives and any lingering doubts either of us had about our marriage was instantly swept away. Ironically, our happiness was the source of a lot of irritation of the locals that had observed our trials and tribulations up close. They couldn't understand why I was willing to marry a girl that had rejected me. And they couldn't understand why Staci would marry me after I rejected her. I could write an entire encyclopedia trying to get people to understand our reasoning and feelings or I can simply sum it up that I love her and she loves me and we finally caught ourselves at the right time. I sleep well. I am not haunted by the ghosts of my parents. Why should they haunt me? They only wanted the best for me and that finally happened. I am not haunted by the specter of Charles Buckman. He can not hurt me or Staci anymore so it is of no consequence. Likewise, with David Porter and Janet. The only person that can hurt me is Staci and in my heart I know that isn't going to happen again. The lessons we learned were painful and at a frightful cost and dearly bought and dearly cherished. The sudden epiphany I got as I watched Karen bring yet another peach for me struck home in its simplicity. Karen crawled into my lap and with all the God given innocence in her eyes looked into mine as she handed the fruit to me. "Peace, Daddy!" I gave her a kiss, "Peace." I agreed. Interesting Consequences "What a sweet girl." That's how almost anyone in my home town would have responded had you mentioned my name. Looking back I suppose I was the embodiment of the innocent, fresh-faced and naïve teen-aged girl. In some strange way I guess I knew that and embraced the role with a flourish, always smiling, always sweet, always sickeningly cute to be honest. I was cute though, physically I mean and not just as a projection of my personality. I got plenty of attention from people, guys especially, who didn't even know me beyond what they saw. I was blonde, fair, and enjoyed a naturally graceful build that only youth can provide. I had always been told I was pretty but had only recently begun to see it myself as the little girl freckles faded and the face and body in the mirror became more womanly seemingly overnight with my eighteenth birthday. I dressed conservatively, my reputation was a concern after all, but as most teen-aged girls I made sure what I wore was parent-acceptable but with an eye toward a flattering fit. My jeans were a bit more than snug in other words and my blouses selected to accentuate a developing bust line. The result was that I had no shortage of admirers, but as appropriate for a well-bred church-going girl, I enjoyed their pursuit but maintained their distance. I was popular too, involved in so many activities that one could hardly attend anything in our little town without bumping into me. It was exhausting but all part of the role I was determined to play out. Student council, FFA, Glee Club, theatre, tennis and a multitude of church functions kept me constantly on the go and in the public eye, and yes I had been Harvest Queen my Sophomore and Junior year back to back. Prom Queen had so far eluded me but as a Senior there was already talk that I was one to watch. I'm telling you all of this not to brag, none of it means a thing now so many years later, but to introduce you to the girl I was, to give you some understanding of the girl of that summer, thirteen years ago. Without that understanding the situation and events I'm about to relate won't have the impact they should. Keeping a firm grasp of who that girl was is critical in appreciating fully the events of July 18, 2001. To tell that story however I have to back up to almost a month before. I had spent a Sunday morning, as I always did, working at our church's nursery, chasing toddlers while their parents sang their praises. As the service ended and the expected throng of parents began to file in for their offspring, Mr. Lowery, my father's boss, appeared in my room. I was confused at first as the old man didn't have any children or grandchildren that I could recall and although not really a close friend of the family, my father had worked for him for more than 5 years and I thought I knew him pretty well. As it turned out he wasn't looking for a child, but for me. We exchanged a few pleasantries while I bounced a 3-year old on my knee and finally he explained the purpose of his visit. He and his wife were to attend a function, a conference or something, and would be out of town for several days. His wife was uneasy about leaving their place unattended and had asked him to arrange for a house sitter. When he had mentioned this to my father, good ole' Dad had offered me up. Inwardly I frowned at first, house sitting? It was summer and besides my regular activities and a part time job as a waitress at a local café I still tried to have a social life when I could. This would mean neglecting plans I had been looking forward to for weeks, a trip to a nearby lake and sparking the attention of a certain boy among them. I didn't have a regular boyfriend but was seriously considering giving this particularly cute boy the chance, for the summer anyway. Keeping the boys at a distance was a challenge, and certainly kept my father happy but could be misconceived as just being stuck-up, or worse. A regular guy for the summer would maintain my reputation and keep me from sitting home alone when I wasn't working, or worse having to pay my own way when I went out! The lake was going to provide the perfect opportunity to turn on the charm and let my guard down a little, just enough to rope the cutie in. In comparison, spending a week stuck in some stuffy house feeding somebody's dog and watching game shows did not sound like fun at all. My attitude changed instantly however when the old man filled in the details. He promised Fifty dollars a day, two-hundred and fifty dollars for the week, and of course use of their pool and hot tub. I bubbled up with my typical girly enthusiasm and agreed instantly. It would probably be boring but I would end the week with a tan, a purse full of cash and a good story about being cooped up all week to gain the sympathy of that soon-to-be boyfriend. The Lowery's were rich, not of the extreme West Texas oil variety, but were more than just well off. I know he owned several businesses like the one my father managed for him and he had property all over town. He was a big contributor too, presenting a check for ten thousand dollars towards our high school's new athletic track a year before. Their name came up every year during charity drives and Mr. Lowery had been declared the Grand Marshal of our Christmas parade that past December. I was a cute little fixture around town while Mr. Lowery was a power. It was a strange and unfortunate set of circumstances that would bring the two of us together. My parents were thrilled with the opportunity when I told them about it during lunch after church, my father especially perking up at the chance to get in good with his boss. Dad had been the manager of West Transit for several years but there had been talk about him stepping up to regional manager. Mr. Lowery had built three or four new offices in our part of the state and it would be a big deal for Dad and our family. We were solidly entrenched in what my economics teacher called the 'American Middle Class', which basically meant we weren't poor enough to qualify for financial assistance but not rich enough to live without worrying. My father's promotion to manager had helped but my older brother's college tuition and my plans to attend the university as well were a burden. Regional Manager would be a step toward "easy street", or so my father promised. Monday morning I arrived bright and early at the Lowery's place. I had been there before for a couple company Christmas parties but it was still impressive. The big stucco ranch house stood a good half mile from the main road in a rural stretch of housing between the city limits and the oil fields. The neighbors looked like they were doing pretty well too, enough to keep a few acres between their elaborate homes but the Lowery place stood out for sure. It had that western ranch look to it, all woodwork and carved stone, but it was a modern building with all the bells and whistles. An intercom would get you buzzed in at the gate, there were several satellite dishes on the roof and a windmill provided power from its perch in the pasture nearby. The manicured lawn was green despite the heat and shaded by dozens of beautiful shrubs and towering trees. I could only dream of living in a place like that someday. Mrs. Lowery let me in with a sincere hug and thanked me repeatedly for agreeing to the arrangement. My Dad's boss made an appearance and shook my hand but was busy on the phone during the next half an hour while his wife gave me a tour, explaining her many, many concerns and her expectations on my stay. In the end I was glad to see them finally just go, her big Lexus packed like they would be gone for a month speeding down the drive in a cloud of caliche dust. I had a few 'chores' that I would have to keep up during the week but otherwise I prepared for a life of leisure. Thinking back now I would love to have the opportunity again, to lie around and soak up some sun, watch a few movies on a huge plasma screen, make good use of a fully stocked freezer of expensive steaks and bask in a whirlpool bathtub the size of my pickup bed. At the time however, and at that age, it was pretty lame stuff. The boredom would cost me, cost me plenty. So I took a swim first, the dust of their leaving barely settling before I was in my suit and diving in. It was a huge, beautiful pool complete with rock ornamentation and little falls at one end with a hot tub adjoining. Afterward I tanned for a while, lying on a cushy lounger and listening to a stereo system piped out from the house. Lunch was next and then some television and then more swimming. It was great for a few hours but by mid-afternoon I was already beginning to regret my stay. "A whole week?" I questioned aloud while standing in their massive kitchen with a damp towel and a soda in my hands. I had made several promises that I was already regretting too. I promised to not have anybody over, no friends, just family. I wasn't to touch their liquor cabinet, not that I would have anyway. Mr. Lowery's cars, several vintage and really expensive models locked up in the garage, were off limits and I was forbidden to rent anything inappropriate on their satellite. "Right! As if." I thought, actually laughing at the thought of me renting porn or something. Now don't misunderstand, I wasn't a complete prude, I was maturing normally of course and had my own little private teen-age curiosities, but was pretty darn innocent for the most part. I had made out, sometimes a bit heavier than intended, with a couple of school boys but it had never progressed beyond kissing, groping and panting. I knew some of my friends had done much more and was even criticized by them for my reluctance. A few had tagged me 'preacher girl' for a bit last school year but it honestly wasn't religion that had kept me so chaste. Instead it was a kind of prissy pride. I understood I had something special to share and I would only be able to really share it like that once. I didn't mind waiting, besides, it was kind of fun to see the boys paw and beg for something and know they didn't have a chance of getting it. It would have been cruel had I acted like some other girls that used that power in a slutty, teasing way but I wasn't like that. I never teased, never gave the slightest hope to those I dated, but I couldn't help what they thought on their own or how hard they tried could I? Porn though? Not even a consideration. I was curious sure but the idea of someone, anyone, finding out I had watched something vulgar like that was mortifying, enough to dampen whatever curiosity I might experience. Besides, if I had to be completely honest with myself, that stuff embarrassed me. Call me a goody-goody but anything approaching open sexuality was still pretty uncomfortable for me, I laughed if exposed to it but inwardly felt like closing my eyes and blushing. So with no friends, no booze, and no porn, just what was I going to do? I laughed at phrasing the question in such an out of character way and chided myself for being such a 'priss'. So I set out to find something to occupy my time and did manage to keep busy the rest of the evening but wound up settling into bed early after a long and completely boring phone conversation with my mother. "What a wild start to a long week." I thought contemptuously as I drifted off to sleep. The next morning I was awakened by a call from Tracy my closest friend who was even then preparing to meet the others for the lake trip I had been so looking forward to. She razzed me hard on not being able to come but I played up the money and luxuries I was enjoying, not wanting to sound like a whiney kid. She saw through my bluff though, she always did, and promised as she signed off sympathetically not to have too much fun without me and to keep her hands off my boyfriend. I stared hard at the phone open mouthed. I hadn't even mentioned the boy before but somehow she had guessed my intentions! We were like that, closer than sisters. I laughed and told her not to worry that he would be mine whenever I felt like it and hung up giggling, feeling miserable. By ten o'clock I was going crazy, lying on an inflatable raft in the middle of that huge pool all I could think about was the lake and what I was missing out on. Desperate to just get busy doing something I made the hasty decision to go exploring. Yes, Mrs. Lowery had given me the tour but an "open the door and point" version only. It was a big house and although I knew it wasn't appropriate at all, I needed a distraction and some snooping might just be thing. I dried off, slipped a pair of shorts on over my suit and got started. The place was beautiful, lots of expensive furnishings, artwork and antiques and it was immaculately decorated of course but pretty darned uninteresting too. That is until I checked out Mr. Lowery's office. It was locked when I first came across the door which instantly peaked my curiosity. I half imagined one of those dungeon rooms in there with whips and hand cuffs hanging from the wall and had a fit of giggles when the image of Mr. Lowery being spanked by Mrs. Lowery in a latex suit popped into my head. I had heard about rich people being into such things. I was mildly disappointed though when after finally finding a spare key hanging on a ring in the den I discovered a plain old office instead. The computer was protected with a password, his desk was completely locked (no spare key there) and the shelves were full of incredibly boring ledgers and books on military history. I was about to turn my back on the useless discovery when I noticed a little gym bag, tucked back behind a filing cabinet in the corner. It was a plain, uninteresting red bag with a familiar logo on the side but I was curious. Mr. Lowery was a fairly fit old guy I supposed but not the gym type at all. What was in there? Money! When I pulled back the zipper I found myself staring at more cash than I ever seen in my life. It was stuffed with fat little rolls of rubber-band bound money, all denominations. Twenties, fifties and even hundreds were all jammed into that little bag to bursting. There were other wads of mixed bills too, tens and fives and singles all rolled up together. "What the heck?" I asked myself as I stood there looking down at what I guessed was tens of thousands of dollars, maybe more. It seemed stupid to keep this kind of money lying around the house. Rich people never paid in cash anyway, did they? I sat down and fingered through the rolls again, shaking my head. There was so much money just carelessly lying there in a bag when so many other people are struggling just to get by. We were struggling to get by I thought, I was struggling! I had to work through the school year and the summer when others were out having a blast. It wasn't fair, this was probably some secret little mad-money stash Mr. Lowery kept from his wife, to waste on who knows what. I could imagine him blowing it on one more car for his collection or another thousand dollar golf club or something. It was 'chump change' to him. Snapping off the rubber band on one of the mixed rolls, I counted the bills. There was $2700 spread out on the floor in front of me, just one little roll amid so many had enough cash to make a huge difference in my life. I clicked through a mental checklist; new boots, jeans, that purse I had been looking at, a real leather jacket, gas in my truck for months, and the new cell phone I had been begging for. Of course I couldn't just go out and buy these things, I would have to be careful, patient, devious, coming up with believable explanations as to how I was making these purchases without revealing my sudden windfall but I bet I could do it. I stopped, suddenly shocked at what I had been thinking. Without knowing it I was already planning how to use this money, money I hadn't even stolen yet. But I was going to wasn't I? I had made that decision in the first few minutes after opening the bag. Stealing, really? I hadn't been brought up that way and I couldn't imagine myself ever doing something like that, not really. So I left the bag alone, went back to wandering and swimming and snacking and dozing in front of the television but I came back to it that night, and the next day, and the next evening and again the day after that. I kept telling myself I would come to my senses, finally beat back the temptation but each time I looked at that carelessly stored bundle of wealth it just got worse. By Thursday of that week I had made up my mind. That one fat little roll of cash was coming home with me. My parents had come by a couple times to visit briefly during the week. They were just checking on me of course and under different circumstances I suppose I would have been grateful for the company but when they showed up Thursday I was uncomfortable the whole time, wishing every second they would just go. The money was still there in the office but somehow I thought they would sense my decision, clue in somehow that their sweet little daughter was a thief, or about to be. I hated keeping things from my parents but this was different, this was big. The guilt was overwhelming though and I honestly felt they would have to notice something was wrong. They didn't though, and they eventually left, congratulating me on almost finishing my job. The Lowery's were to return the next day and with them their gratitude and my check. My Dad gave me a big hug before he left, looking eye to eye with me and exclaiming how proud he was of me and how much this might mean to the family's future. I smiled and told him it was no big deal, returning his hug ashamedly. I waved from the porch as they drove off, grateful that their own cloud of caliche dust would mask the guilty tears falling down my face. I spun and walked smartly back into the house, a surge of willpower returning along with some token of the honor I had temporarily let greed displace. The money would stay right where it was. That was that! But it wasn't that and it didn't stay. Early that next morning, after taking some time to tidy up the place in preparation for the Lowery's return, I shoved that little, seemingly unnoticeable, roll of money deep into the corner of my purse wrapped up in a bundle of tissues. I spent the next couple of hours rehearsing what I would say, reinforcing my composure, and promising myself I would give no clue whatsoever that anything was wrong at all when the owners came home. I was brilliant. I had the advantage of having been active in theatre for several years and I played the part I needed to play. I was a terrible liar when confronted but I could hold a straight face if not under too much suspicion. I was the ever-so-grateful little teenager, so eager to please and concerned about every little detail, praying that they were happy with the job I had done for them. I played the part so well in fact that after a few minutes Mr. Lowery actually started hedging me to leave, my obsessions about how little food I had eaten, the condition of the pool, my keeping the place clean and my repeated appreciation reaching annoying levels. His wife was gracious however and it raised a little lump in my throat when she made her husband add an extra $50 to the amount they owed me. She hugged me in a motherly sort of way and I almost choked when she added, "You're like the daughter we never had hun." I left their home feeling relieved but guiltier than I had my entire life. Over the next few days I reconsidered what I had done constantly. I actually brought myself to the decision of returning the money at one point before considering the horrible implications in it. Even a commendable act of conscience at this point could be disastrous. They might forgive me, and then again they might not. Unlike when you're a child, saying "I'm sorry" does not make everything better. This was a big deal, a "go to jail" kind of deal, not to mention my destroyed reputation and the affect on my family. There was no going back, I had made my decision and I had to live with it. The trick was now to not make a mistake, play it very cool and very smart. I would sit on the money till winter at least. The guilt would surely fade, given time. Interesting Consequences Alter that same weekend my father stopped in at the little café where I worked on his way home late from work. I had been waiting tables for most of the afternoon and was about to clock off when he popped his head in the door. Ordering a slice of pie my mother would probably not have approved of, he swore me to secrecy on it then mentioned that Mr. Lowery needed to see me before I went home. I had forgotten something it seemed and he suggested I swing by and pick it up that night. I smiled and said sure but my guts cramped instantly. What did he want? The drive to their home was torturous. I figured the likelihood of this visit being related to the money I took was slim to none as discovery of that missing cash would certainly have played out differently than this. For one, the police would have stopped by the café instead of my father. But having to face the Lowery's again though, so soon, was terrifying. I might well have forgotten something I told myself, a ponytail holder, a pair of socks in the laundry room, anything was possible. That's all this was about, it had to be. I tried to suppress the agonizing feeling though that somehow they would know, they would take one look at me when I arrived and this time it would be obvious. By the time I reached the house my heart was racing, I sat there parked in their drive for several minutes, praying they wouldn't notice me out there, trying to regain my composure. As I waited for my nerves to ease I noticed Mr. Lowery's pickup was in the carport but the Lexus was gone. In its place was a big crew cab truck I didn't recognize. They wouldn't have invited me over if they weren't going to be here, I thought, and whose truck was that anyway? This wasn't a major concern at the time but the questions momentarily distracted me from my anxiety. Finally, with one deep ragged breath I got out of the car, strode up the walk and rang the doorbell. There was a short delay then Mr. Lowery met me at the door with the usual friendly smile. With that smile welcome relief washed over me. Feeling instantly better I followed him in. The house was dark but for the lights in the kitchen off to our right and I was a little nervous that perhaps Mrs. Lowery was already in bed, immediately dropping my voice to a whisper. He laughed and directed me towards the kitchen, laying my concerns to rest. Mrs. Lowery was at her sister's place for the weekend, he explained, and then motioned me to sit down. There on the kitchen table where I sat was a pair of my thong sandals and I immediately remembered I had left them by the pool the weekend before. I snatched them up and apologized, thanking him and made to stand and leave but he placed a hand on my shoulder and in a startling display of force sat me back down. I looked up a little shocked and hurt by the rudeness of the act and confronted an expression I didn't understand. Gone was the happy, friendly smile and kind eyes I was accustomed to. He looked sad now, even a little upset, like he was about to do something distasteful but had no choice. He licked his lips several times then told me he had just gotten off the phone with my father. He had explained he needed my help with some cleaning in the garage for a while that evening so we had time to talk. He looked at me grimly "And we are going to need some time." He motioned to an envelope I had noticed lying there on the kitchen table but had paid no attention to earlier. "Open it." He said flatly So I did, bewildered by the weird change of mood but privately, way down inside somewhere, I was trembling in fear for what this change in attitude probably meant. From the envelope I withdrew a clearly printed photo, apparently taken from a video. It showed me holding the red gym bag in one hand while my other grasped a tightly bound wad of cash. I was caught. Security cameras, of course there would be security cameras. I suddenly felt as foolish as I did guilty but even more I was terrified. I looked up at him, tears instantly forming and I started to mouth an apology but he just shook his head and placed a hand over my mouth to silence me. "I don't want to hear it Shaylee. There is nothing you can say that I want hear right now." He looked and sounded mournful instead of angry and somehow that was worse. "What you've done goes beyond betraying our trust, this is bad, a very bad mistake and I'm afraid there will have to be consequences." I did manage to squeak out an apology this time before he continued unhearing. "I haven't called the police yet but I will, I owe your father a little advanced warning first. You should make that phone call though. I think it's only appropriate as it is your actions that will cost him his job. " My tear-filled eyes suddenly widened. "His job?" I questioned, my voice cracking under the strain and impending sobs. "I don't understand." "I can't very well put my branch manager's daughter in jail and allow him to continue to work for me Shaylee, can I? It's a conflict of interest. No, darling this little stunt of yours is going to have serious repercussions. I would think a smart girl like you would have considered all that before robbing me." I sat there my chest heaving, the emotion welling up inside, looking up at him and realizing fully the enormity of what he was saying, the price my family was about to pay for my poor judgment. I sobbed, trying unsuccessfully to stifle my whimpering. Blubbering, I promised to pay all the money back, offered to give him the money they paid me back too. I swore to work for them at no charge, cleaning or whatever for as long as they needed. I went on and on in a sniffling, gasping fit of apologies, not acting anymore but in sheer panic at the realization of what this would mean. I would end up in jail or at best on probation and my father would be out of work. It would be publicized of course and everyone at school, our church, heck our whole town would know! The humiliation of such a thing occurring in a small town, the Harvest queen bound for prison for larceny, her parents forced to move unemployed and broke, was beyond comprehension. This couldn't happen, it couldn't, my petitions slurred into one long pleading cry for forgiveness. Mr. Lowery stood there above me silent. He looked down patiently and waited for my weeping to subside. When I finally regained control of myself I looked back at him, his pause giving me a faint hope that perhaps he was reconsidering. His face had undergone yet another change, this one worried me. There was an inexplicably playful edge to his expression now but a cruel one. He smiled mischievously at me, tipping his head to one side for emphasis. "Do you think there might be a another way to make this right Shaylee?" I nodded hurriedly, my shoulders shaking with conviction. "Hmm, well, maybe there is." He followed hesitatingly. "There is so much at stake here, maybe we can come to an agreement of some kind." Again I nodded, sniffing hard, wiping away tears and sensing a slim ray of hope. He knelt down in front of me then, taking my hands in his but gripping them hard, painfully hard. His big ranch-worked hands enveloped mine and I grimaced, pulling back but not able to free myself from that iron grasp. "Shaylee, If you want to avoid having your father out there in the field again, at his age and with that back of his, you will listen. If you want to not have every person you've ever known in this town look down at you like some piece of trash, you will listen. If you want to avoid jail and having a different dyke finger your ass and make you eat her pussy every night you will listen. Got me?" I got him, I got him completely. His unbelievable vulgarity had hit me like a splash of cold water and the tears stopped. I was all ears now, shocked and scared to death but listening, bent on every word. I had to get this right, whatever he was talking about, there was no room, no room at all for another mistake. I shook my head yes but he made me say it. "Yes sir" I croaked, swallowing hard again. "Good, so this is what you are going to do. For the next couple of hours you are going to do every fucking thing I say in exactly the fucking way I say it. Right?" Again the profanity startled me, I had never heard this man cuss, ever. I replied "right" without so much a thought as to what it portended. He continued. "If you don't, or even so much as hesitate when I tell you to do something, the deal is off and I call the cops immediately. You won't even go home tonight, I promise you that. Do you understand? Again I agreed, blindly. "Ok!" he exclaimed, a big smile on his face again as he tipped my chin up with a huge hand. "We are good to go then! You go on back in the spare bedroom there and put on what is laid out on the bed. I'll go have a beer in the living room, come on in when you're ready." He turned around and vanished down the dark hallway before I could even react. It was fortunate he didn't wait I guess because I didn't react, couldn't, not at first. I just sat there, my mouth open and my mind blank. "What the hell had he just said?" I wondered in disbelief. He wanted me to wear something? I was suffering from a little shock I thought, the rapid flow of recent events overwhelming me. From certain doom and destruction to a sudden reprieve and now this weird request all in the matter of a couple minutes. I wasn't sure what to think, wasn't thinking at all really. Having no real choice though, I got up and slipped down the hall in the other direction towards the light of the spare bedroom showing beneath the door. Opening the door I found the room as I remembered it, having slept there during the week of my stay. There was a one major difference though. On the bed, laid out carefully, were several pieces of lingerie, the kind you see in a magazine or maybe a racy movie but I didn't think anybody really wore. That was how I viewed them at the time, the sexy undergarments on the bed were as foreign to me then as a space suit. A pair of white lace panties lay next to a sheer and short baby-doll teddy. There were white net stockings with garters and a slinky mid-thigh, long sleeved robe of some absolutely transparent gauzy-white material. Lastly a pair of white high-heels waited on the floor, higher heels than I had ever imagined. Together they represented an image so outlandish that I just stared in awe. "Is he kidding?" I thought standing there. Just what the heck was he thinking? He was crazy if he thought I would let ANYBODY see me in something like that. Somewhere deep down the idea of wearing lingerie for my future husband or even a really special boyfriend someday had occurred to me before of course but marching out in front of my dad's boss, or any stranger for that matter, was totally inconceivable. For the first time I began to suspect what his real intentions might be and a shiver of fear entered into my already wild mix of emotions. The idea of what Mr. Lowery might actually have in mind for me tightened my throat, making it hard to swallow. Was he going to make me do it, have sex with him? "No way." I actually said aloud, although in a whisper. He wouldn't dare, I was still in school and he was, well really old and knew my Dad and everything. I couldn't even think of him in that way. He was more like a grandpa than anything else. Looking at what he wanted to see me wear made me ill. This couldn't be happening, he couldn't be serious. Even if he was though, I wouldn't do it, I wouldn't! Confirming his sick plan, whatever it was, was not going to happen I considered my options instead, and came up empty. I couldn't run, couldn't tell, couldn't fight or whine my way out of this and I got the feeling any attempt at negotiating would be pointless. I sobbed again quietly, standing there long enough that I began to wonder if he would come get me if I didn't appear soon. The idea that he may actually try to have sex with me was so unreal, so unimaginable that I had a hard time accepting that I might actually have to confront it. Sex had been something I had thought about of course, planned on even, but it was still a distant discovery. Confronted with it here and now like this, with him, was almost more than I could handle. It wouldn't happen, I told myself again, he wouldn't do it, he couldn't. It had to be something else, I forced myself to accept, some sick and kinky game obviously but not that. I wouldn't let it come to that. Resigning myself to at least having to play along to some extent however was one of the most difficult decisions I had made in my life. I took a deep breath and I pulled off my t-shirt, unsnapped my shorts, and kicked off my sneakers all the while grasping frantically for some way out. The lingerie fit, but barely. It was brand new, a tag still hanging from the robe, and I supposed in a sort of gross realization that he had me in mind when he had bought it. It was a bit small however, the panties stretching to fit around even my hips and butt and the baby doll snugged up tightly to my boobs indecently. I was thin sure but had begun to blossom over the past couple of years. My bust line hadn't increased as much as I would have liked but it was improving while my bottom was maturing at a sometimes embarrassing rate. My own underwear barely fit anymore, forcing me to move up a size, but the panties he had laid out were tight and left no room for modesty whatsoever. The baby doll bodice wasn't much better, all but transparent but including an underwire that lifted and cradled even my smallish bosom suggestively. The hose and garters were next and totally unfamiliar but I managed to get them right. The shoes actually did fit but I stumbled when taking the first step in them, unfamiliar with anything so garish as those monster stilettos. I finished dressing with the robe, sliding my arms into the gossamer sleeves and tying the wisp of a belt around my waist. It was like wearing smoke, concealing nothing but instead accentuated the next-to-nothing I had on underneath. Slowly I turned to the mirror above the dresser, privately curious. I actually tore my gaze away with a jolt, completely embarrassed by what I saw, but then cautiously looked back. The girl staring back at me in the mirror was a complete stranger. My legs seemed ridiculously long in the high cut panties and heels. My boobs looked at least a size bigger than they were, smashed into that underwire and forming cleavage I had never seen before. The garters and stockings lent a naughty, sexy aspect to a girl I knew without any of those qualities. It was humiliating but alluring, even to me. I was entranced by the sight and would have stood there gawking longer had a voice not echoed from the living room. "Shaylee! It's time to get in here honey. We don't have a problem do we?" Gone was the fascination, the allure and the strange curiosity. The stomach-twisting fear was back in a lurch. If I was going to escape this I had to come up with something fast, there was no more time to stall. "I have to walk in there like this first." I told myself, not sure if it was still a question or a pronouncement. There was no avoiding that, but God the thought of it caught my breath. Some naive part of me still insisted that it couldn't be leading to what I suspected. If I just went along it wouldn't be so bad, it would all work out somehow. "Take it one step at a time." I told myself, gritting my teeth. Without really realizing it I pulled the band from my ponytail and raked out my hair, combing some of the heavier sun-bleached curls forward across my shoulders, reaching but not quiet covering my bust. I stepped gingerly into the dark hall and toward the living room, balancing on the ridiculous heels, the dark holding no fear but the emminent exposure sending a cold shiver down my spine. The room was completely dark. The drapes had been pulled on the massive glass doors leading to the patio and pool outside. There was a trickle of moonlight stealing in through a crack here and there but my eyes were still adjusting from the bright bedroom and I could make out nothing. Evidently Mr. Lowery could see me fine however as he spoke from the far side of the room as I entered. "Well now, that's fine Shaylee, that's a girl. Come on in, just a bit more, now stop right there hun. I know it's dark but right there will work for now." I was standing effectively in the middle of the large living area, surrounded I remembered by a few lush recliners and a huge sofa. The large glass coffee table usually at the center was gone, otherwise I would have been nearly standing on it. My eyes slowly started to adjust and as the features of the room began to take shape I almost screamed. There were men sitting in the recliners, several of them! I stiffened, my breath catching painfully in my chest. My throat tightened in a hysterical squeek, my hands flew up to cover myself and I nearly bolted from the room when Mr. Lowery stopped me with a shout. "Don't you even think about it little lady! You keep your happy little ass right there and your mouth shut! We had a deal, remember? I can dial 911 before you even get to the door honey. Try and fuck me over and you and your family are done." It worked, his menacing tone I mean, instantly reminding me of the hopelessness of the situation and my secured compliance. I wanted to run but all the strength left my legs and I almost fell instead. Again my mind raced through the choices available to me and I was confronted with the same outcome as before. There was nothing I could do, no way to influence the situation, no way to alter the payment I was about to make for my own bad judgment. I remember feeling slightly relieved too though, in the midst of the embarrassment and humiliation, that the nightmare of sex with Mr. Lowery might not be forthcoming. With these other men here, each well dressed and professional looking, sipping drinks as they observed quietly, the situation was taking on a different feeling entirely. It was no less humiliating honestly, perhaps more so, but not nearly as terrifying as being raped by Mr. Lowery. I was so naïve. "These are business associates of mine Shaylee." Mr. Lowery announced from the bar as he stood to pour himself a refill. "Dear friends of mine too who have agreed to help me, help you really, reach a solution to this little situation we are dealing with. Don't worry; they can all be trusted to keep this arrangement our little secret. Once the evening is concluded you can go home without fear of any further complications, on that we are all in agreement. Aren't we boys?" There was a slow murmur among the men as they nodded. They met my furtive gaze openly as I scanned the room but quickly returned their attentions to what I was futilely trying to cover with my hands. There were four of them altogether, one distinguished looking guy with thick gray hair and glasses resting back in his chair, legs crossed, completely relaxed as he sipped at his glass. Another man, a heavy set guy in his fifties I guessed, sat beside him leering unashamedly, his hands working his knees in barely constrained excitement. Near the window was a tall rancher type, his skin browned from the sun and wrinkled from probably sixty years. He took his cowboy hat off as I looked at him and actually tipped it my way with a perverse smile. The last man, sitting near Mr. Lowery at the little bar in the corner, was leaning forward fixated, almost appraising me. He was younger, in his forties I think, and would have been almost cute but for the intense way he looked at me. His gaze was the most uncomfortable of all of them because he seemed to be inspecting me somehow, the real me underneath, instead of this dressed up doll Lowery had provided. Interesting Consequences "Relax honey" the big rancher eased with a twang "It aint like we're gonna jump you or nothin. We're here for a little fun, that's all!" His promise was meant to be reassuring but it had the opposite effect. I knew what a gang-bang was and up until his "jump you" statement I hadn't given that possibility a thought. Their presence had seemed a deterrent at first, removing the possibility of Mr. Lowery taking advantage of me completely, but now I saw that wasn't the case at all. Despite what he said there was a very real chance I would lose my carefully guarded virginity that night, lose it in a horrible orgy of grasping hands, leering faces and animal lust. I felt suddenly exposed, more naked even than standing there in lingerie on exhibit. I was being stripped of my will, my choice and my innocence as surely as I was my dignity. I started to cry, shamed by the tears as much as by their gawking. I covered my face and hoped somewhere the pitiful display would earn me some compassion. When I glanced up however what I found was the fat guy smiling, laughing silently, his big belly jiggling. The sight kindled a sudden fire in me, flaring my emotion in a way I didn't expect at all. It pissed me off! Who was this fat son-of-a-bitch to sit there and laugh while I bawled my eyes out? Who were any of them to kick back with their booze and stare as a young girl was victimized. The anger was surprising but welcome. I'm not known as the hot-headed type but I can show a temper. Up till now I had been consumed with guilt, regret, fear and embarrassment but this new emotion brought back a spark of dignity. My situation was hopeless yes, I had accepted that, but I didn't have to weep and blubber like some abused child. Whatever they took from me, there weren't going to see me groveling, not anymore. I glared at the fat guy then turned to Mr. Lowery. I tried to straighten up to regain my composure but it was difficult while keeping one hand across my bust and another covering my crotch. I managed it though and tilted my chin up in a show of self-respect. "Mr. Lowery" I said, voice still quivering but with what I hoped was a confident air. "I know we made a deal and I guess I have to go along with it, but getting hurt isn't part of it. I'd rather go to jail for the rest of my life than let you do that to me." The room was very quiet for what seemed like minutes but was only a few seconds I'm sure. When Mr. Lowery responded his voice was flat, matter of fact, but with perhaps just a touch of kindness. "Shaylee, we aren't monsters. What Mr. Kelmore said was right on. We're gonna have a little fun at your expense sure enough darlin, you earned that, but nobody is going to hurt you. That's a promise. You're damned right though that we have a deal and you're absolutely going to go through with it so the quicker you calm yourself down and get to it, the better. Hell you might just find yourself having a little fun too if you let yourself." Inwardly I felt a deep sigh of relief. "Fun?" not likely but it did seem as though my biggest fear could be put behind me. They could do whatever they wanted, promises or no, but there was a sincerity in Mr. Lowery's voice, and in the expressions of the others (accept for the fat guy who seemed to visibly disappointed) that made me actually believe him. I nodded looking back at Mr. Lowery and blinked away the last few tears. "What do you want me to do?" I asked meekly. Mr. Lowery smiled, more genuinely than he had all night. Looking at his friends he gestured to them and replied. "Well, for starters these boys would like a good look at you sweetheart. I have to tell you, you do that fancy outfit proud. I had no idea you were such a fine looking woman Shaylee!" I blushed, I actually blushed. I would never have admitted it at the time but his praise affected me. He wasn't calling me 'cute' or 'sweet' like a kid but appraising me as a woman a "fine looking woman" he had said. I tried not to smile back but I cracked a small one bashfully and he laughed, encouraged. "So let's just start with Mr. Matheson over there and let him go first. He tells you how to pose and you do it. Got it?" I was a little taken aback by the suggestion but quickly recovered. Posing? Strutting around however they told me to? "God, seriously?" I thought. The terror of possibly being raped had removed all other concerns and I had almost forgotten about what I was wearing, or more appropriately what I wasn't wearing. It all came rushing back now, not just the exposed skin but the lewd image the lingerie presented me in. I bit my lip. Now they wanted me to pose in it. "It isn't too bad though, just posing. Is it?" I reflected, desperately grasping for some perception that would ease the guilt and humiliation reemerging. I suppose it's what I should have expected. They dressed me up in that sexy lingerie like one of those girls in a magazine, they weren't going to let me just stand there covering up. Still, feeling somewhat relieved by their assurances I began to feel fortunate in a strange way. They only wanted me to pose while they watched. It was sick and unbelievably embarrassing but could have been so much worse. Looking at Mr. Lowery I nodded my head subtly. "Put your hands up in your hair girl, raise your arms sexy-like, you know?" came the first instruction from the quiet guy with glasses. I did so awkwardly and shifted my weight to one hip like I'd seen models do before. They responded with murmurs of approval and the guy with glasses applauded quietly, smiling and dipping his head in mock gratitude. The big rancher was next, asking me to face away from him, put my hands on my hips and look back over my shoulder. I tried it and felt like one of those old World War II pinup girls, profoundly self conscious of how my panties rode up in the back, clearly visible through the sheer robe. It must have been the look he was aiming for because he let out a low whistle and muttered under his breath. "You were right Lowery, she is something special. My oh my." The younger guy, in pretty good shape for a man his age, took his turn next. He asked me to lie down on my back, bring one knee up and raise myself up on my elbows. It was intimidating lying there on the carpet with all of them leering down at me but I managed it and again there was hushed praise and another whistle from Mr. Kelmore the rancher. I was completely embarrassed and awkward in my movements, my breathing was rapid and my heart pounded but some of my anxiety was fading. What I was being forced to do was undeniably shameful but with each passing minute a bit less stressful and the posing required me to think and thinking more meant feeling less. I was constantly aware of what I was at risk of revealing with each pose and hastily attempted to readjust the gauzy-nothing of my robe to maintain some illusion of coverage. Concentrating on the mechanics of what I was being asked to do was distracting me. As a result I was slowly becoming more comfortable with the situation, seeing it as a humiliating but necessary means to an end instead of the nightmare of a few minutes before. When Mr. Lowery gestured to the fat guy to proceed however and he blurted out his own impatient request, it changed dramatically. "C'mere girl, right here in front of me. I want you to get on your knees, look me right in the eye and shove your hands down the front of those panties." Startled and disgusted, I looked at Mr. Lowery for what I half hoped would be an objection, but there was none forthcoming. He just nodded at me, then again more sternly. Sighing I walked tentatively closer to the chubby little freak, his hands still kneading his knee caps as his heels pistoned up and down. I sunk to my knees in front of him feeling suddenly even more shamed and subjugated in that position than at any time yet that evening. "Do it!" he stage whispered to me, eyes burning with an unsettling kind of passion. I looked away as I reached down slowly but was firmly reminded I was to make eye contact throughout. Raising my head I looked him right in those hungry, glassy eyes and slid my hands into the clinging material below my naval. "Deeper." He ordered "All the way between your legs." I spread my legs a bit and reached further, feeling filthy in a way I had never before imagined. He held me there with his gaze for a long time, his eyes pawing over me and locking for long uncomfortable moments on where my hands were. "You wet?" he asked sneering. I didn't respond, my eyes widening a bit in surprise at the vulgarity of the question. He rocked back laughing. "You brought us a little choir girl didn't you Lowery?" He asked mockingly, wrapping a chubby hand around his beer can again. "God aint she sweet though?" Dismissed I stood up, gratefully backing away from the repulsive jerk. As I edged back to the center of the room I was met with another suggestion and the sordid game continued. For the next few minutes I responded to a succession of suggestive instructions, holding a dozen different poses. They were fairly unobtrusive at the beginning but became more immodest as each followed the last. The fat man especially delighted in placing me in poses that were degrading or outright pornographic. After sitting demurely, legs crossed on a stool for the guy with glasses the fat guy made me get down on all fours, legs spread, with my bottom in his face as I arched my back. He actually got down on the floor behind me, his face inches from my backside as he commented. "That is one grade-A piece of sweet ass there boys. I don't think it's ever seen cock, do you?" I shut my eyes and bit my lip in silent defiance. The nearness of him back there and the filth he was spilling about me were intolerable. Again I looked around for some sign of objection from the others but they didn't interfere. I was starting to get the feeling they were permitting him to push me to exploits they weren't comfortable suggesting themselves but were equally yearning to see. The trail he was blazing though made it easier for them to follow and follow they did. I was made to lie down spread eagle, spreading my legs as far as I possibly could and then to stand and jump up and down, causing my breasts and butt to bounce wantonly. Each pose was more brazen than the last and seemed contrived to shed my inhibitions in small manageable steps, inexorably leading me to something just a bit further. It was eventually the fat man of course that breeched the unspoken limitations of the game so far and edged me into something different altogether. "Ok girl, enough of this teasing, you strip down a little and let's get a real good look." He ordered. There was no reaction from the other men at all, despite the unexpected and considerable escalation. It was clear then that they had been waiting for this moment, playing me, drawing me slowly along. I knew that had he said something like this at first I would have been panic-stricken, perhaps even preferring the police to the sordid exploitation. Having already broken down some of my inhibitions however, abasing myself in the most humiliating of poses for them, it seemed like a disgraceful but manageable indignity. The other's silence at his direction was a unanimous show of support and I resigned myself once again to what was coming. I slipped the robe off my shoulders and it cascaded airily to my feet. Hesitating I couldn't resist a glance at the fat man, leaning forward eagerly in his chair. He nodded then gestured impatiently. "Fucking do it bitch, panties or the top next, your choice." The slur stung. Up to that point, despite the liberties they were taking, there had been a sort of respectful measure in the way they addressed me. Their requests had been accompanied with 'please' and each pose was followed by a show of appreciation. The tone of the situation had just changed however, markedly. "Let's go slut, enough with the shy act, you know your into this, quit jerking us around." He followed, sitting back in his chair impatiently and finishing the last of another beer in a sloppy gulp. Behind me Mr. Lowery spoke up for the first time in several minutes. "It's too far to turn back now Shaylee, better to just get on with it. It would be a shame to go through all this and still end up in jail, don't you think? Not to mention if you bail on us now I'm not so sure I can keep these boys quiet about it." His words were painfully effective. How could I turn back now? Jail would be almost a blessing if by fleeing our agreement it left these men free to disclose what had happened here tonight. Sure there was some risk in it for them but as respected business men they could spin the story any number of ways, all of which ruining my reputation and embarrassing my family on a level I couldn't imagine. Being outted as a thief would have been terrible but confessing to this sleazy performance was beyond comprehension. I realized at that moment that I had willingly removed every protection I thought I enjoyed. From that moment forward I had no choices, there were no more limits. The fear of what that lack of limits might bring was back, my chest tightening again and my pulse racing but there was a clear feeling of inevitability to it now. I was scared certainly but determined to do what I had to at that point, regardless of what it entailed. The stakes had risen to previously inconceivable levels and required equally inconceivable measures to manage them. I had lost some innocence somewhere back there bending and stretching and spreading for these men, probing my privacy and virtue with leering eyes. I had lost just enough perhaps to allow a more cynical and callous girl to do what was necessary to keep her reputation and freedom intact. Comically it took longer for me to decide what to remove first than it did to stripping period. It seems ridiculous now but even under the extreme conditions the self consciousness of a teenager was still intact. The idea of removing my panties in front of these men, showing them my most private of areas, was unnerving but it was where my breasts were concerned that I was truly timid. I had bloomed a bit late and even at that age I was still torn between being embarrassed at their sudden growth or that they had not yet grown enough. When wearing anything my first priority was to make sure it fit well up there. I knew my butt looked good in a pair of jeans but I still wasn't comfortable with my bust line at all. The under-wired teddy had graciously enhanced and somewhat hid me till now but the idea of leaving my breasts uncovered for their eyes was petrifying. I was still debating this ridiculous choice when the fat man grew impatient. "Are we gonna see something or not Lowery? I drove six hours for this shit, loosen this bitch up already!" Then he turned back to me. "Take it off sweetheart or I'll take it off for you!" Before I could react Mr. Lowery interjected but not in any way I might have hoped. "Maybe Mr. Louis has a point Shaylee. I realize this is hard for you. A little help might be a good idea but I don't think Mr. Louis is the right one to offer it. He seems a bit anxious, don't you think?" he laughed when he said this but a hard cast of his eyes as he glanced to the fat guy told me there was a warning there. I was subtly relieved that in some way Mr. Lowery was in charge of this presentation and he was maintaining some sort of discipline. The relief would be short lived. Mr. Lowery turned to the guy with the classes and the younger guy next. "Harvey, Drew? Do you want to do the honors?" Both men rose instantly, the younger man chiding the fat Mr. Louis for cheating himself of this opportunity. The fat guy spit a slur at him but remained seated, watching intently. The two men approached me and I had to fight not to flinch as they stepped in close, in front and back. Behind me the man with glasses, Harvey I assumed, reached down and grabbed the frilly bottom of the babydoll, rolling the material in his hands and preparing to draw it up. To my front, the younger man knelt down and slowly ran his hands up the sides of my thighs until a couple fingers hooked into the thin waistband of my panties. He must be Drew I thought and the name shot a memory through me like a bolt of electricity. My father had promoted to manager three years before and replaced his former boss who had taken an even higher position somewhere else. As a silly girl in junior high I hadn't paid much attention back then to his professional dealings or co-workers but had met a few. As this man prepared to tug my panties down, inches from his face, I suddenly realized I knew him. He was the previous manager, Drew Morrison, my father had introduced us at his promotion party. He had teased and picked on me that evening like a newly discovered uncle. I had liked him, I remembered that, with a sort of crush-like infatuation that only adolescent girls can experience. He had been young, still was, muscular and handsome and had treated me like a young lady instead of a little girl. Now here he was, his face only inches from my tummy, about to pull off my panties. After combing his eyes over my legs, belly and crotch for several seconds he looked up and made eye contact. "You remember me don't you Shaylee." He stated, not really asking at all. He knew I did. The connection somehow intensified the unbearable intimacy of that moment. This was no stranger but a man I knew, had spoken to, even crushed on. The realization made me nauseous, my legs trembling. What was happening to me was impossible. In the next second the baby-doll teddy was drawn up briskly, my arms lifting without warning as the material slid up across my waist, my chest, shoulders and finally over my head. Somewhere, dimly sensed amid the sensation of looking through the sheer material as it flowed past my face, I felt the tight fabric of my panties spill down my thighs. The teddy clung to my hair a moment and as I stood there helpless, my arms suspended above me as Harvey fought to free the garment, the falling panties halted. I realized that my garters wouldn't allow them to be removed independently. I was shocked as Drew then ripped them from my legs effortlessly with a sudden powerful jerk. The teddy and torn panties were tossed to the couch behind us and I stood there revealed. My hands were slowly returning to my sides but I made no attempt to use them for concealment. Any such gesture would have been pitiful and senseless. The room had become noticeably quiet. Even the fat Mr. Louis had laid his most recently opened beer can aside and merely sat, staring. The two men who had undressed me stepped back, Harvey's mouth open in what looked like a staged expression of awe. My breasts, now fully revealed, stood out plainly in the room's dim light. Firm, white and unrestrained they tingled from the coolness of the room and the ardent exposure. I gasped a little as the effect stiffened my nipples, the supple pink flesh rising visibly and it drew an appreciative hiss from someone. Each breath I took seemed to augment their display, unintentionally panning them up and then down only slightly but the subtle movement was tracked by every eye in the room. The cool air brought a chill up and inside my thighs as well, introducing the never-before encountered caress of complete exposure to what lay between. Shaving had never been a consideration down there, a light down of white blonde my only covering. Something more substantial might have been comforting as I stood there, my sheer nakedness screaming at me. I could feel their eyes roaming across the white swells of my butt cheeks, along the smooth toned stretch of my hips and belly and then sloping in to the not quite hidden recesses of my koo-chee. The nickname came unbidden to my mind, given by my mother when speaking to womanly cleanliness or privacy. It took on a whole new meaning now as my koo-chee was on full display. Interesting Consequences "Oh my God." Harvey commented finally, dropping breathless back into his chair. There were murmurs of agreement from the others but in hushed, half-stunned tones. I stood there trembling, not knowing exactly what to do as the seconds clicked by. The sensation of being seen nude was almost overwhelming. Would they ask me to pose again? The idea of taking on those provocative positions with only my hose, garters and heels left to me was frightful. But they didn't ask me to pose. What was suggested however was much worse. "You're doing great honey." Came Mr. Lowery's voice and I instinctively turned to him before quickly turning back to the windows in a blush, the only direction not occupied by a leering man. He continued. "Now what I've got in mind next might be a little difficult for you but I bet you can do it. In fact I know you can, and will, because as we have established Shaylee, you really have no choice." He was still using his tone and words as leverage but it really wasn't necessary. The last fleeting ounce of resistance had fled me minutes before. I felt keenly every second of the exposure, the humiliation, the embarrassment and fear but I no longer had the willpower to even consider refusal. "You're going to a little dance for us Shaylee. Nothing too fancy, I know you're not one of those girls as the strip club but I bet you can do ok if you want to." I had thought nothing could have embarrassed me more than what I had already endured but I was wrong. Dance? They wanted me to dance, like this? I could of course, I mean dance normally, but as Mr. Lowery had guessed I had no idea how to dance erotically. That's what they expected obviously, no matter what Mr. Lowery had said. The very idea of gyrating out there naked uncovered yet unmolested reservoirs of modesty, but he wasn't finished. "What you're going to do is a lap dance hun, one for each of us. You know what that is don't you?" He had moved from the bar to an open chair, all of them now reclined and waiting this next development casually. The panic gripping me was in stark contrast to the relaxed and confident air they were all exhibiting now, even fat Mr. Louis had settled down, basking in the certainty of my next performance. I did know what a lap dance was, vaguely. A stripper would pay close attention to one guy specifically, dancing for him close up, sitting on his lap, straddling him and basically rubbing all over him in the hopes of getting a huge tip. I knew what it was and had even seen it on a few R-rated movies but had no idea how to do it. I wasn't sure I could bring myself to even if I did. The lost look in my eyes must have cued Mr. Lowery because he gave me a nudge. "Shaylee? You're going to do this darlin, it really doesn't matter how good you are at it. The purpose is to show the man a good time and I'm pretty damned sure you can accomplish that if you put your mind and that body into it." He waited just a few seconds then pointed at the cowboy, Mr. Kelmore. "Now go on over and start with Niles, he's a good sort, he won't bite." He reached beside him and thumbed a remote I knew controlled the electronics in the house including the stereo I had used during my stay. As I moved gingerly toward the sun-browned old rancher, music ebbed into the room, a slow sultry jazz. I had no idea what I was doing and for the first few seconds just stood there in front of him, slowly, artlessly moving my hips to the beat of the music. I closed my eyes tight, feeling naked and ashamed and ridiculous all at the same time. Trying to shut out the nearness of the man in front of me I willed myself to just move to the music. It was impossible to escape him however. The scents of cologne, whiskey and cigarettes were strong on him and my legs grazed the denim of his levis when I accidentally ambled closer. Startled I opened my eyes and reluctantly returned his gaze, begrudgingly yielding to the realness of what I had to do. Fuzzy memories began to return to me, images of a stripper I had seen in a movie once. The similarity of my position here in front of this man brought her movements back in growing detail. Closing my eyes again I accentuated the movement of my hips and then dipped down, squatting provocatively between his legs then rose again, my hands on his knees for balance. It was awkward but it didn't seem to matter. As the moves came to me and I tried nervously to reproduce them the men in the room responded, especially the old rancher beneath me. I pivoted, dipped, swayed and undulated my hips but avoided several movements coming to memory for the sheer vulgarity of them. After a minutes however Mr. Lowery somehow suspected and chastened me with a sharp urging to quit holding back. My hesitancy had been obvious and with another of his threats pushing me I willed myself to let go. Spinning, I thrust my bottom in the old man's face and bent fully over with legs spread slightly and rod straight. Looking back at him from between my legs I knew he was looking directly past my butt and fully exposed pussy to meet my gaze. The name "koo-chee" just didn't seem to fit anymore I realized, what the men were seeing and what was right there in the rancher's face was my pussy, there was no other way to describe it. He let out a long shrill whistle and there were grunts of approval from all around me. The stunt had shattered another barrier within me and each move thereafter bled what was left of my dignity. I clasped my elbows tightly to either side of my breasts and shook them to the old man's delight. I raised one leg and perched one of my stiletto heels painfully atop his thigh while grinding my hips to the front and back. As the song neared its end I shocked even myself by turning away and sitting down on his lap. He barked a laugh in approval and brought his big callused hands up to rest on my hips. I looked each man in the room directly in the eye and began to writhe atop him, rolling my hips as he squirmed and fidgeted beneath me. When the song finally ended I stood up and they responded like school boys. It was if they had somehow forgotten I was a prisoner to the performance. They clapped and whistled openly and both rude and supportive comments assailed me as I stepped back to the center of the room. They might have forgotten the reality of the situation in their lustful exuberance but I had not. Subconsciously combing my hair back from my face with nervous fingers I could hardly believe I had found the nerve, the guts to do what I had done. Now, with the advantages of years, maturity and experience, I can consider the dance I gave him from a completely different perspective than that of the naïve young girl who performed it. In truth it was just suggestive movements and ogling but at the time it was so much more. I can still feel a tinge of what I felt back then, the utter impossibility of it all, the complete separation between the girl I was to my family, friends, church and school and the one I was presenting to those men. This sweet young girl who cared for toddlers every weekend in her church's nursery was naked but for heels and stockings, bouncing her boobs and strutting her ass in front of a room of strange men, flaunting herself more with each passing minute. I went to Harvey next, the most demure of the men, and I repeated my performance almost exactly. Despite the convenient memories I had a limited repertoire of moves to draw from and I repeated them mechanically. The song had a faster tempo than the first however and what had been slow and sultry before became more animated and raunchy. Even my small breasts were prone to bounce and jiggle given incentive, intentional or not. My considerably fuller butt wiggled as well when my gyrations became frenzied, much to Harvey's delight, his glasses actually knocked from his face once when he leaned too close for a look and got butted in the nose. By the end of Harvey's dance I was winded but emotionally more composed. I had adapted to the unthinkable in the last hour and had reconciled myself to behavior previously unimaginable. I was becoming grounded now, fully accepting the situation and my place in it, firmly focused on achieving my goal. Whatever the price, even one slowing inflating, I would pay it and walk out of that fucking house a free girl. My new-found confidence blanched momentarily however when Mr. Lowery gestured me to Mr. Louis next. His grinning visage and pawing hands filled me with revulsion as I reluctantly approached but I forced it down. "He's the worst." I thought to myself as I stepped between his widening legs. "Get this over with and the rest will be easy." The music started and I began to move as before, subconsciously maintaining a bit more distance perhaps and I often wonder if it was my obvious avoidance that caused him to react as he did. Without warning he reached out and grabbed me by my waist and pulled me hard against him. I started to squeal out an objection but my breath left me as my chest slammed into his, my pelvis into his groin. He pinned me there, my arms at my side, legs draped across the carpet behind me, hanging ragdoll like from a thick hairy arm. I wrenched my neck aside, frantically looking to Mr. Lowery for help but his expression revealed silent consent. He was watching, sitting back with a fresh drink in his hand and grinning feverishly. Looking back to the fat man I said nothing and resolutely waited for his next move. "Stand up bitch." He ordered coldly, actually raising me up off the floor with a deceptively powerful arm. He kept his hand at the small of my back as I did and drew me close again. His legs clamped in on me at my knees and his wild eyes were fixed only inches from my naked breasts. Pulling me still closer he slid his other hand around to fill it with my ass cheek then tipped his face up and popped my left tit into his mouth. I quivered there breathless, helpless as he suckled then licked and finally nibbled on my breast. The hand not occupied with kneading my ass came around and clutched my boob firmly, squeezing the nipple to a jutting point before taking it in his mouth again. His hand and lips hurt and I was completely disgusted by him but my nipple reacted instinctively to the stimulation, perking up hard and red. He smiled eagerly when he saw this and began to nibble harder. I winced and whimpered loudly once, unable to tolerate the unfamiliar and painful sensation but it only served to inspire him. He abruptly spun me around next, the song graciously nearing its end, and drew me back to sit on his lap. His hand reached around and grasped my breasts tightly, squeezing as my knees all but buckled. I could feel him wedged into the flesh of my butt, his hardness, his penis straining under the material of his khakis. The sensation and immediate recognition found yet another remnant of fugitive innocence hiding in my psyche. "There is a man's hard cock shoved into the crack of my butt." I thought disbelieving. He leaned forward and half-whispered for me to start grinding like with Harvey, pinching my titties hard for emphasis. I replied. With his hands pulling and pinching at my boobs I worked my hips and ground my ass into him. I could feel the intensity building, a change in his breathing and a strengthening and then trembling in his grip but before it reached whatever climax it was building toward the song ended. Mr. Lowery interrupted him when it appeared for a moment the song's end would not. The fat man cursed loudly but thrust me away, almost knocking me to the floor. He tugged uncomfortably at his crotch, pulling his belt higher up on his big belly and smiled at me wickedly. "We aint done yet little girl, don't you worry." He promised, grasping at an unopened beer on the end table beside him. Somehow the threat didn't surprise me, didn't even frighten me really. I was sure that he was right and that before I was permitted to leave I would have to deal with him again. Somehow I assumed, from the way this lap-dance nightmare had progressed, that Mr. Lowery would be last so I turned then to Drew and was hit again with that sense of depravity over and beyond even that already experienced with the others. It was the familiarity I knew, a layer of intimacy absent elsewhere in that living room, even with Mr. Lowery. Yes, as my father's boss I had seen and spoken to him regularly but had never come close to the connection I had made with Drew as a young girl that night at the party years before. We had shared something that night, on the surface only an unlikely friendship but secretly, I think we both knew, something more. I had liked him in a way I didn't altogether understand at the time but had been aware of how different, how powerful it was. It had seemed, at least as I look back now, that he had been aware of it too and fostered it. He hadn't acted inappropriately in any way, my age and his good sense precluded that, but even his innocent attentions seemed intended to kindle my pubescent female curiosity, they had to have been. Now here I was years later, naked and approaching the same man, some of those old feelings clawing their way through the storm of emotions I was already enduring. They added both an additional layer of shame and excitement as I stood looking down at him. His eyes were on mine, never dropping to the tantalizing flesh displayed before him. As the music started and I began to dance our eyes remained locked, a slight smile pulling at the corners of his mouth. He was seeing not only the body of a young girl the others found so appetizing but who I was as a person as well, that connection years ago allowed him that. All the embarrassment and humiliation, the absolute implausibility of this girl; me; Shaylee Moore, doing what I was doing wasn't lost to him. He was as much aware as I was. The difference I realized as place my hands on his knees and performed the now well practiced dip and grind was that he was feeding off it. So I wasn't surprised when he too reached up and pulled me onto his lap, straddling his legs with my own, bringing me face to face with him. I could feel him beneath me, just as hard as Mr. Louis had been but he didn't squirm or buck. Instead he leaned me forward against his chest and dipped my head down onto his shoulder. In the hidden space between us he traced a finger along my stomach, up across my sternum, narrowly grazing my right breast and then alongside my throat. He whispered in my exposed ear as his hand caressed my neck, his lips touching the flesh there making me shiver. "I've thought about this for years Shaylee. You have too, haven't you?" It was an egotistical and disdainful question, wicked in its implication, revealing lewdness perhaps more contemptible than even the open lechery of Mr. Louis. I was just a sexual object to these other men, to Mr. Lowery too, but to Drew I was that little girl at the party again. He was living a tainted fantasy of me he had conjured up countless times for years. The thought repulsed me. He was right though, in a small way. I had thought about him, shortly after the party and occasionally for months after. He had been an adult, a grown man, and had taken an interest in me. He was the first such crush I had ever experienced. I could not have at that time imagined him approaching me sexually but there had been a tickle of excitement thinking that he might like me that way. Not like Dad or Grandpa, Uncle Walter or even the boys I was friends with liked me, but in that other way. Every woman out there knows exactly what I mean, the strange mix of curiosity, shame and desire sometimes experienced as a girl matures. The feelings for him faded quickly of course and were replaced by more legitimate crushes on boys closer to my own age but the sting of that first, secretly tawdry, connection was still there. "Haven't you?" he asked again, nuzzling closer. I didn't reply, not sure yet if the answer would be yes or no honestly, but he didn't wait. His right hand slipped up to my bust and playfully cupped each breast then grazed my nipples triggering their instant response. His other hand was commanding more of my attention however as it retraced its path down my neck, chest and tummy but didn't stop. It slowed but continued to dip lower, below my belly-button, slightly to the side along the ridge of my hip and then centered again, racing across the curve of my thigh inwardly and then further down. His attentions were mostly shielded from view, nestled between the few inches between his chest and mine but somehow the privacy increased rather than eased my apprehension. His false portrayal of private intimacy was loathsome. His hand reached the warm crevice between my legs and splayed out, his fingers spreading my legs slightly. I couldn't help but let out a low moan, nervous energy and confused emotion escaping me. He saw it as encouragement and went further, rotating his hand and cupping my fleshy mound first then probing tentatively with one finger for the slit in the fold. My legs stiffened reflexively and my back arched. "His hand is down there. Right there! Oh God!" my mind boomed. He found the edge of my labia and parted me, struggling with the tightly closed lips as a single finger began to advance. "Why Shaylee, you're still a virgin aren't you honey?" he whispered, only louder this time, obviously intending that the others should hear. Again I didn't respond, couldn't respond, all my attention was directed solely on his hand and where that finger was going. The tissue was moist down there, and his digit slid easily between the folds but stopped before moving deeper. His head turned to catch a meaningful stare from Lowery. Shrugging his shoulders he slowly withdrew the offending digit, flicking the now incredibly sensitive tissue just above. My clitoris responded with an involuntary throb and I inhaled sharply from the intensity of it. He grinned evilly, obviously noticing my discomfort and leaned back, placing his hands on my thighs as he spoke to me but directed his voice to the room. "Well I guess we are going to have to keep your little cherry intact Shaylee hun. That's the rule we agreed to and I bet your plenty fucking glad to hear it aint you? You didn't come over here tonight expecting to go home good and fucked anyway did you?" The false intimacy was gone, his attempt at connecting somehow with the girl he remembered replaced by a disappointment driven callousness rivaling if not surpassing Mr. Louis' boorish indecency. "Still, there's a woman in there just nagging to get out and I don't think we need to pop a cherry to find her, do you?" He reached down again swiftly and rubbed a course finger across my clitoris again, tugging at the little hood of flesh as he brought it back up. I jolted, my legs stiffening and my back arched involuntarily in that brief moment of fierce but unwanted pleasure. Without warning he then grasped me around the waist and lifted me bodily, spinning me around on his lap until I faced the center of the room. His boots caught my legs from within and spread them widely as his hands rudely pulled me back against his chest. His breath was in my ear, his hands moving toward my uplifted breasts as he whispered. "Fine then honey, you don't get fucked. Good for you, but I think you owe us something for all the teasing you've been doing. Let's see the woman your hiding behind that little girl bull shit." As he clutched at my right breast with one hand he reached down with the other, enveloping my own hand in his and dragging it toward my crotch. I resisted but his strength and purpose were unrelenting. My hand was firmly shoved between my legs and forced to rub, moving up and down atop the warm flesh there in a spastic rhythm. I understood immediately what he was asking for, no not asking but insisting I do in front of them. The enormity of it hit me with a renewed sense of humiliation and shock I had thought impossible by that point. I had explored myself before of course, all girls do, and had even found that incredibly sensitive region Drew had so bluntly assaulted. I knew there was latent power there, something very special, but I had never had the nerve to explore it completely. Always after a few minutes of building sensitivity with the accompanying gasping, pulse-racing and intense emotion, I had chickened-out. I wasn't sure where it would lead exactly and the not-knowing was scary. I had read, heard about and even discussed what an orgasm was but had never had the nerve to experience one. I associated it with sex of course and despite being educated to the fact that it was very much a personal and independent experience, I was still intimidated by it. Now, in full view of strangers, I was being made to find it. Interesting Consequences "Do it Shaylee." Again Mr. Lowery had the last word and his tone broached no argument. Drew's hand released its grip on mine but hung there, prepared to reengage should I find the will to resist. He needn't have bothered. Looking about the room at the eyes fixed upon me I resigned myself once again to the impossible and brought my other hand forward to join the one set between my legs. Drew's legs had mine pinned down in a nearly uncomfortable spread and his hand were once again at my breasts, as much holding me reclined as satisfying his lust. Bent back at the waist and neck my pussy was out of my own sight but clearly in theirs. They watched as my hands found my warm and moistening fold and rubbed there a moment before pulling the tender lips apart. I tried to look away from the hungry eyes feasting on me but I couldn't, their expressions were animalistic, completely consumed with carnal desire. Fat Louis was tugging at his crotch disdainfully, his tongue looping out to run across his lips. Harvey squirmed uncomfortably in his chair, twirling the drink in his hand to the point it splashed across the chair arm unnoticed. The old rancher and Mr. Lowery looked on stoically but there was a predatory gleam in both their eyes I had not seen before. Behind me Drew began to whisper encouragement in his own sadistic way. The suggestions he made and the images he placed in my head would have disgusted me at any other time but thrust as they were into the fervor building in my loins they spurred me to abandon. He shared fantasies he had enjoyed at my unknowing expense over the years, some so depraved I blushed despite the completely deviant behavior I was engaged in. He bragged of masturbating the very night of that party long ago, his mind conjuring up impure images of the young girl I had been during countless ejaculations sense. He described in breathy detail what he could do to me, how hard his cock was and all the places he wanted so desperately to put it. I had found that special place and a mesmerizing rhythm down there. My hands seemed to move on their own, disconnected but oh so influenced by the scene around me and the filth I was hearing. As the mouths of the men twitched and their eyes narrowed or widened in fascination my tempo and pressure increased, the friction building and focusing in on the point where I knew hysteria dwelled. "If I go there" I told myself, clinging some semblance of control "If I move my finger only a little bit higher I won't be able to stop. I'll be on that ride I've never finished before and this time there is no slowing down, no stopping." Drew's fingers pinched down painfully hard on both of my nipples suddenly, drawing both a scream and a completely unexplainable jolt of pleasure beneath my hands. "Cum you little whore!" he said aloud this time "Dig those fingers in and squirt for us Shaylee, show us what a little slut you really are!" Inexplicably his abuse was like gasoline to a smoldering fire. I cried out, in half distress and half passion as I worried feverishly with two fingers directly on my clit. My other hand came up reflexively and pushed Drew's away, protecting but then grasping my own breasts. My hips began to buck and I might have fallen from his lap had he not held me in place. My breath was coming faster, each inhalation a gasp, each exhalation a whelp of ascending pleasure. My legs kicked and Drew spread them even further, digging his heels into the floor, locking me in that position of complete oblivion, complete abandon. I came. A shrill scream broke from my lips but was quickly stifled by my own hand, clasped hard across my mouth as my eyes stared wildy. My hips continued to buck uncontrollably and my legs flailed as Drew lost his hold. There was an intense warmness down there and a steady pulsing, sending thrums of pleasure throughout my entire body. The warmness spread, first to my thighs but then in slow liquid-like rivulets down my legs. I realized guiltily that it was liquid, my liquid, my cum cascading in a slow stream. The dim lights caught the dribble clearly and there were moans of approval around me. I lay there, awaiting the spasms of pleasure to subside, powerless to move or even think clearly before they did. Drew released me, dropping me to the carpet in front of him where I rolled to my side and drew up into a fetal position, small spasms still racking my body but now from tears rather than release. I heard a conversation around me but it held no meaning, no importance to me in my state. There was low talk at first but then raised voices and finally what sounded like tones of agreement. When I finally regained my composure Mr. Lowery was kneeling on one knee beside me, the other's attentions returned to their drinks for the first time in a while. He placed a hand on my shoulder and spoke quietly, compassionately. "You O.K. Shaylee?" I wasn't in anyway conceivable by any sane person on the face of the earth even in the most remote of ways FUCKING OK, but it didn't matter. I just nodded. "It's getting late hun and I think it's about time for you to head home." He followed, tugging at my arm a bit to raise me to my knees beside him. "Theres only one chore left for you to finish and our deal is complete darling, o.k.? After that you're home free." I leaned over and sat down on one hip, drawing my knees up under me and for the first time in more than an hour covered my breasts with my arm. The confidence and determination I had fostered during the torrid events of the evening were now gone, washed away in that flood of virgin passion. I was just a girl again, me again, sitting naked in heals and garters in front of these strange men. The self consciousness timidity and shame came back in a nauseous surge. Tears were forming again and I sniffed hard against them. "One more thing?" he had said, hadn't he? "Just one more thing?" I actually asked aloud. "Yes Shaylee, just one more thing." He replied almost laughing. "You've been a real sport all night. I wasn't sure you could handle it but you did. I'm real glad I'm not going to have to make that call to the police. I really, really am, you can believe that." Somehow I did believe that, this had been a sadistic opportunity for the old pervert and his buddies for sure but in the calming moments sitting there I could see that I had set myself up perfectly for it. It could have been much worse though, I admitted, prison or rape. He had at least drawn a few lines on their behavior and given me a chance to avoid the police and a life-ending disaster in the process. It was going to be ok now though, wasn't it? They hadn't really hurt me, just as they had promised and although I had done things I wouldn't never be able to forget, I was really no worse for wear physically. "What is it?" I coughed. "You're a gorgeous young woman Shaylee honey," He began smiling broadly "and this show you've put on here has us boys near to losing our minds." He gestured to the others with this statement and they agreed. "Fucking A" Mr. Louis said, tossing another beer can into the pile beside his chair. "Got me so I can hardly think straight gal!" commented the old Rancher Kelmore. Drew responded with something illegible, his mouth busy downing the bottom of a whiskey glass while the usually demure Harvey stumbled to his feet and spat. "I'm so fucking horny I think I'm gonna die!" Their outbursts would have been comical in any other setting, maybe even in that setting had it been anyone but me sitting there naked on the floor. As it was their words reinforced Lowery's intimation that we weren't quite through. That promise of home was still just a bit out of reach. I yearned for some to that reckless confidence I had experienced earlier but it wasn't there. I would have to finish this without it. I looked up at Lowery and raised my eyebrows, repeating my question silently this time. He looked down and for the first time I saw unease in his eyes, as if he were debating not only how to answer but wondering if he should answer at all. Finally after a noticeably long pause he leaned a little closer and spoke low, almost whispering. "You're going to have to give these boys and I some relief before you cut lose Shaylee? With just your hands honey or mouth so don't go freaking out! I just can't let these friends of mine leave like they are now, it wouldn't be right and well, I kind of promised. So take your pick of who and how but get it done right now." There, sitting on the floor, with the disgrace and indignities of the evening behind me I wasn't sure if I had any self-respect left but at this final suggestion I felt what might have remained die. There was some hushed talk between them while I sat there my mind whirling. My refusal however was never even a consideration. Something bounced across the carpet and landed with a cold touch against my leg. I looked down and found a bottle of skin-softening lotion lying there beckoning me. The site fostered an image of my hands sliding over Harvey's hard cock or pulling at Mr. Louis' dick beneath his huge belly. Mr. Lowrey and then Drew came to mind next, panting like a dogs as this time I sucked on their dicks with my mouth, their balls bouncing against my chin. In that few seconds I knew I could never do it, suck them. Jerking them with my hands would be mortifying but endlessly preferable to the indignity and disgust of actually putting them in my mouth. "Can I just use the lotion?" I asked timidly "I don't think I can do, you know?" "Her hands are fine, right boys?" Lowery replied, to which the others nodded although Mr. Louis looked soured in dissapointment. Taking the bottle in my hand I crawled the short distance to Harvey and kneeled in close between his legs. He fumbled at his belt until Lowery told him to just relax and let me do it. The notion smarted, somehow having to actually unbutton his pants and expose him myself made the deed more personal, even more humiliating. He eased his hands back on the chair arms and scooted forward a bit, nearly dropping his butt out of the chair. I sat the lotion aside and unbuckled his belt, unsnapped and unzipped then tugged his pants down to his knees and then to his ankles. His briefs got caught in my grasp and in that one swift motion I fully exposed his already hard penis. It was right there, only a foot from my kneeling face. I tried not to look at it but couldn't help myself. It was surreal, a strange man's hard cock right there and I was about to touch it, play with it, stroke it until it...I forced an image of the eventuality away in an embarrassed nudge. I tried desperately to separate the task before me from the man waiting for it. Spilling a liberal glob of lotion into my right hand I slid it over his cock and followed quickly with my left, slipping into a quick and steady rhythm. His penis pulsed in my hands, actually bobbing in spasmatic contractions when I let go to apply more lotion. His legs flexed on either side of me and I watched despite myself in amazement as the initially loose hanging ball-sac began to draw up, tighter and tighter, until it bulged taught and flush just beneath his thickening rod. I increased my tempo and his breath began to come in tight whistles between his teeth. His eyes rolled and then closed, his hands clutching in open air. The end came swiftly and unexpectedly. As one stroke followed another there was a sudden surge in my hands. Harvey let out a guttural moan and a jet of thick warm jizz spurted from between my fingers and landed with surprising weight on my forearm. I tried to continue, not certain what I was supposed to do at that point but he grabbed for my hands frantically as another shot and then another escaped him, lobbing up and arcing back onto his shirt. I pulled away and watched revolted yet curious as he grasped his own flesh and the shower continued, each succeeding spurt propelling a smaller wad a shorter distance. Finally a single plug of thick cum merely bubbled out and ran down his already sticky fingers. He was done. I backed away, wiping my arm across his pant leg without either of us really noticing. I was a little stunned by what I had seen, what I had been part of, what I had caused. It had been repugnant certainly, in a visceral, grossly organic way but powerful as well, mystifying in its intensity. It was the first time I had ever seen a man ejaculate, other than in static photographs shared by a more experienced girlfriend. His response had been so raw, his release so violent I couldn't help but be fascinated. As I turned then toward Mr. Kelmore I had to admit a certain curiosity. Would the old rancher behave the same way? Kelmore waved me away however, smiling timidly he gestured to Lowery beside him instead. "There's nothing I'd like more sweetheart but my plumbing aint what it used to be. I'm plenty happy just watching the show. Go ahead and give Lowery your attention there, I'm just fine." He emphasized this last statement with a long pull on his half-empty longneck but there was disappointment in his voice. I felt a strange mix of relief and compassion as I turned to Mr. Lowery. Again I had assumed for some reason that he would last, the very last recipient of what I dared to believe would be my last performance but I was wrong. My father's boss looked at me expectantly and shifted back in his chair much as Harvey had. "You're almost done Shaylee, make it good and your home in bed in thirty minutes." He encouraged. I followed the same routine as before, with his belt, his pants and then his cock. Lowery wasn't hard however when I exposed him. I considered the half-aroused but still flaccid penis in my hand a little perplexed. He let out a contented sigh and gave each of my boobs a playful squeeze before reclining back fully to accept my services. With another dob of lotion I began pulling him, hand over hand, stretching his member, milking it. He groaned and warned me not to neglect his balls. Responding apprehensively I reached down with one hand and cupped his sack while the other continued to work on his cock. They were heavy in my hand and I rolled them in my fingers uneasily. I must have done it right however as he began to stiffen immediately, his body and his penis in my other hand. I continued the dual manipulation, his hardening cock making it easier to stroke now and his balls in my hand beginning to tighten as I had seen Harvey's do. I returned both hands to his penis but he shook his head and gestured to his balls again. I did as I was told and within seconds he came too. It was not quite as explosive as Harvey's and he reacted differently but it was no less impressive. He shook, from his legs to his shoulders Mr. Lowery shook while I pumped cum out of him. His head pitched back so violently I thought he might be having a seizure or something for a second until he too grabbed at my hands, forcing me to ease back on the pressure and pace of my attentions. As I knew what to expect this time I aimed his pulsing member away and unloaded his spooge on the chair's armrest and the floor beneath. He nodded finally, wordlessly indicating I should move on while he lay there looking exhausted. His breathing was slowing but I wondered for the first time about the toll this might take on an old man. What if one of them had a heart attack or something? The thought both scared and humored me. "It would serve them right." I thought evily and replaced some of my apprehension and disgust with a desire to actually push one of the bastards just that far. Looking up from Mr. Lowery I found Drew waiting anxiously. As I approached he tried unsuccessfully to capture my eye but I purposefully directed my gaze elsewhere, anywhere but into his. Frustrated he reached out and spun me about as I neared, then drew me back so that I stood above him, straddling his lap, his words and hot breath behind me, focused right at my ass. "Go ahead Shaylee honey, get started only this is going to be a bit different." He teased wickedly. Unsure, I reached down between my own legs and found the button on his pants. As I opened them I had to bend over to reach and involuntarily thrust my butt even closer to his face. I felt his hands on my hips as I tugged at his pants and when his already aroused cock emerged he pulled me back even more. My hands wrapped around him and began the now familiar routine of hand over hand action supplemented by one or both stroking up and down rhythmically. I was conscious of my ass and fairly spread pussy inches from his face of course but had become numb to such exposure until a strange new sensation drew my attention back there and interrupted my administrations. "Shhhhh." He urged, pulling away a bit to deliver the warning. "You just keep doing what you're doing little girl and I'll mind things back here." The sensation returned and realized suddenly it was his tongue. He was licking me back there. As my hands returned to their work I could feel him lapping at me like a dog, then probing me with a surprisingly firm intrusion. His tongue slid over me, interlaced with kisses to my cheeks and pussy, tracing the flesh there from the sensitive top most portion of my pussy to the back and then further. As I subconsciously stroked faster he moved up and I felt his fingers spread my ass cheeks. I flinched when his tongue found my butthole, drawing a short laugh from him before he began furiously tongue-working the virgin tissue there. It was hard to concentrate on what I was doing while being so eagerly violated and I found my hands halting, a cautionary thrust of his hips necessary to put me back to task. His face was buried now, I could feel his nose wedged between my cheeks and trickles of his saliva and what might have also come from me ran down my thighs. His hands free he reached them forward and took my suspended breasts and kneaded them as I increased the tempo of my stroking. The hands began to clutch more fiercely and I his legs jerked spasmodically, announcing the impending climax. He began to slurp at the liquid mess he had made of my pussy and I could actually hear him swallow. His cock stiffened all too familiarly in my hand and I cried out as his hands reflexively clamped down hard on my suspended breasts. A powerful jet of semen erupted from his cock and I jerked my head to the side to narrowly avoid being splattered by it. I aimed it away but continued to stroke him, expecting his interference but it never came. He continued to 'eat' me back there, sucking and licking repulsively until his cock finally grew soft in my hands, spent. He released me and I stepped away, not wanting to look back, but I did. He returned my momentary gaze with a wink, his face wet and lips foamy with our sick joining. He laughed at me as I spun away, tugging at his pants. "You can think what you like of me now little lady," he said, rubbing a sleeve across his mouth, "but you will be thinking about that later, thinking about me later, I promise you that." To my horror I realized he might be right. I had no further time to contemplate him or his promise because Mr. Louis was next, the last, and he was waiting for me. I stepped toward him and felt the cold tang of fear in my belly again. He looked at me not with the desire I had found in the other's eyes but with a fierce resentment, as if had provoked him somehow. He was angry and the emotion was tied up somehow with his clearly visible arousal as he had already pulled his pants to his ankles and sat there ready. His t shirt was drawn up a bit over a huge hairy gut and his fat thighs almost touched despite spreading to the limits of the chair he occupied. His dick barely protruded from a nest of thick brown and graying pubic hair despite its hardness and I was silently amused at his comparative inadequacy. Interesting E-Mail MARCH 16, 2009 To Ed0613 from LOOKING88 Dear Ed: (I assume that's your name). I love porn and just finished reading the story you wrote, "The Gal and the Geezer" on the "Great Sexpectations" porn site and wanted to tell you how much I enjoyed it. I have read a lot of your stories but I think that one was the best. I am a 20 yr old female college freshman in Atlanta and it has always been my fantasy to have an older man as a lover. In my imagination, that was me having sex with that old man. Thanks for the story that helped fill out my dreams. It made me wet. I hope you will write me back. Lorrie MARCH 16, 2009 To LOOKING88 from Ed0613 Dear Lorrie: Thanks for writing and I am pleased that you liked that story. I always try to answer people that take time to write to me. As you may know if you read my bio, I am a 56 yr old, widowed, retiree, living in St. Petersburg, Florida, and that tale was (and still is) based on my fantasy of having a very young woman, perhaps collage age, as a lover. I was fortunate enough to do almost that last year. Although it was far too short lived, I had one of the wildest times of my life when I met a 24 year old, very attractive woman on the run from her abusive live-in ex-boyfriend. She moved in with me and we had a wonderful 8-month long, very hot, sexual relationship. I certainly miss her now, and get very horny especially after talking to someone like you. Think of me and stay wet. Ed MARCH 17, 2009 To Ed0613 from Looking88 Dear Horny Ed: How exciting! Since she had been living with a boyfriend, I imagine she was sexually experienced when you met her. Tell me about all the things you did and how you did them. I have a boyfriend and although we try to do it a lot, neither of us is very experienced and we are not quite sure what we are doing sometimes. I take the pill so I don't have any hang up about getting pregnant. He likes oral sex the best but I am just getting use to the taste of it. When we first started I couldn't let him cum in my mouth but now it isn't too bad. In fact sometimes I kind of like it. I like it when he does oral sex on me too but I can't seem to get him to hit the right spot all the time. Any pointers? Love, and still wet, Lorrie. MARCH 18, 2009 To LOOKING88 from Ed0613 Dear Still Wet Lorrie: The only thing I can suggest on your oral sex problem is to make him keep doing it until he gets it right. Show him your clitoris and make him find your 'G' spot and explain how sensitive they are. Let him play around with them for a while. When he touches the right spot with his tongue, tell him how good it feels. The 24-year-old gal I met, Martha, was a fireball in bed. She liked to be screwed from every angle and loved oral sex. Once in a while, after we had fucked, she would wake me up by sucking on my soft cock. That always got me ready again and I could go all night the second time. For oral sex, she liked to sit on my face so that she could look down and see my eyes. She would hold the headboard while grinding her pussy into my mouth and tongue with my nose rubbing against her clit. I liked that too because I could reach up and play with her tits while I ate her pussy. Maybe you could try that. Love, Always horny, Ed. MARCH 19, 2009 To Ed0613 from Looking88 Dear Always Horny Ed: We did it the way you said and it was the best ever! I made Todd lay on the bed and I got on top of him. First I sat on his penis for a few minutes but he almost had an orgasm so I had to stop that. Then I worked my way up to his face and sat on his mouth. Just like you said, with his tongue in my pussy, his nose was massaging my clitoris. I could look down and watch his eyes as he licked his tongue in and out of me like mad. That made me so hot I had a climax and almost drowned him with my juices. Later, I gave him a blowjob and took all of his cum. He was fucking my face so hard I was afraid he would hurt me but somehow his dick and cum tasted better when it was mixed with my pussy juice. Later on, when he was asleep, I tried sucking on him again and even though he got hard, he shot-off in my mouth without waking up. Tell me more about having sex with Martha. Love, Lorrie. MARCH 20, 2009 To LOOKING88 from Ed0613 Dear Lorrie: As I said in my last e-mail, Martha liked any kind of sex. She was on the pill too, so we never had to use a condom. I think she liked sitting on my cock, so she could be in control, the best. She would start by blowing me until I was rock hard and then straddle my midsection. She did a little trick of laying my cock down against my stomach and then lapping over it with the lips of her pussy, kind of like a hot dog in an upside-down bun. She would slide back and forth so that the head of my dick was rubbing her clitoris. Just about the time we were both read to cum, she would guide my cock into her cunt and sit down, ramming it deep in her pussy. She would rise up slowly and then plunge all the way down and then wiggle around. God, the sensation! When I came, it felt like I was shooting my cum into her like a fire hose. I get hard just thinking about that. Love, Ed. MARCH 21, 2009 To Ed0613 from Looking88 Dear Hard Ed: I can imagine what you mean about getting hard, I got so wet reading your last e-mail that I had to use my vibrator to relieve myself. When Todd gets here I'm going to screw his balls off, LOL, so to speak. Last night was Friday so we went out bar hopping. In one place I was feeling real horny and was telling Todd what I was going to do to him when we got home. A guy sitting on the other side of me heard what I said to Todd. When Todd went to the bathroom the guy said a couple of sexy things to me. One thing led to another and by the time Todd got back I had the guys dick out and was giving him a hand job right there at the bar. It was dark and not very crowded so only Todd could see what I was doing but he still got real pissed. Todd left me at the bar so the guy (I don't even know his name) and I went out to his car. He finger fucked me to a climax and I gave him a blowjob. I was standing at the curb trying to get a cab when Todd came back. I told him nothing happened after he left so we went back to his place and had sex. Todd's cock is much bigger than the guy in the bar and his cum is sweeter. Todd wanted to fuck me in the ass but I wouldn't let him. Have you ever done that? Love, Tender Ass Lorrie. MARCH 22, 2009 To LOOKING88 from Ed0613 Dear Tender Lorrie: Damn! That was quite an experience in the bar. I've been around a lot but I never had anything quite like that happen to me. I had anal sex with Martha a couple of times but I liked it better with my dick in her pussy. When we did do it that way, she would get on her hands and knees and put a special lube around her asshole. I would have to ease it in a little at a time, stop, pull it out a little and then push it in a little farther. Once it was in, I could stroke away and she had good control of the muscles in there. She could contract them and then ease off so that it felt like she was milking me. I don't know why she liked it at all; I don't think she ever had an orgasm that way. I do know that while I was fucking her ass, she would be playing with her clit but I liked it much better when she would get in the same position and I would fuck her pussy from behind. It felt like I could ram my dick up all the way up into her throat when we were like that. I would close my eyes, hold on to her hips, and pound my cock into her again and again, sometimes sliding her back and forth while I held still. Doing it this way she would also play with herself and often had a climax or two before I shot my wad. I'm going out bar hopping tonight and see if I can find someone as obliging as you. Love, Looking for Pussy Ed MARCH 23, 2009 To Ed0613 from Looking88 Dear Looking Ed: What you described sounded so interesting I let Todd try it this morning. His cock is so big it hurt too much so he finished by fucking me from behind like you said. I fingered my clit and, sure enough, I had two orgasms before he had one. I loved that! Later in the morning we started playing another game. We went to the park (It was a little cool) and I wore a very short mini skirt with no panties and a very loose blouse with no bra. My nipples were hard a rocks. I would get in front of a man or group of men and drop something. When I bent down to pick it up, they could see everything, my ass, my pussy and my tits. Todd was hiding in the bushes and took their pictures. I got so wet from letting the men see me that we went into the bushes and Todd fucked me. We went back out and flashed about ten more men. We were sitting on a bench and a guy across the way was watching Todd playing with my pussy. The guy took his dick out and was jacking off when a cop came along. He didn't see the guy with his dick out but he saw us and let us off with a warning. (He also gave me his telephone number when Todd wasn't watching) Later we went to an outdoor restaurant and sat across from another older man. When I moved around a little and opened my legs, he could see right up my skirt into my pussy. It was so exciting I got wet again. When I told Todd about the man watching he slid his hand under the skirt and fingered me again. The old man got up and went to the toilet with a big lump in his trousers. Todd followed him and said the old man was masturbating in there. We moved around the park and I was able to flash quite a few men during the afternoon but I didn't let Todd rub my pussy any more. By the time we got back, I was so hot that I had a climax as soon as Todd put his tongue in me. Has any body ever flashed you? Love, Chilly Titties Lorrie. MARCH 24, 2009 To LOOKING88 from Ed0613 Dear Beautiful Titties Lorrie: I did have a gal flash me once. I thought it was an accident but after what you talked about, I now think she may have done it on purpose. I was at a stock car race and standing by the fence in front of the bleachers. I turned around and there was an attractive woman with her husband or boyfriend sitting in the stands just a few feet away from me, just at eye level about the fourth row up, wearing a skirt. She smiled at me and opened her legs a little and I was surprised that she didn't have any panties on. Like you said, I could see straight into her pussy. She looked away but kept her legs open as long as I stood there. She turned around and smiled at me at least three times. Once she winked. I had to leave but when I came back again she had closed her legs. She didn't open them again while I was there although I waited a long time. I watched her for quite a while but finally she just looked at me and shook her head just a little as if to say "no". I went out bar hopping last night and did meet a nice, divorced lady. She wasn't as young as I would have liked but she was still very sexy. We didn't do any thing at the bar but we went back to her place and had some good sex. She has a nice, big house with a hot tub where we went skinny-dipping. At one point, she sat on the side with her legs in the tub and let me eat her pussy while I was in the water. At the last second she had such an orgasm that she imprisoned my head with my face mashed into her cunt. I didn't mind, her juices were sweet. She had a chase lounge on the pool deck so she laid on that and I fucked her there. I'm going to take her to dinner tonight. Love, Ed. MARCH 26, 2009 To Ed0613 from Looking88 Dear Ed: Sorry I didn't write yesterday because I got some bad news. Todd, my boyfriend/lover is a civil engineering major and left to go on an engineering field trip to South America this morning. He won't be back until late summer. We spent yesterday in bed. My pussy is tender and I know he said his dick is sore. Between oral and intercourse, we must have done it 10 or 12 times. The last time I sucked him off, there was almost no cum. At one point he couldn't get hard even after I nursed on him for ten minutes. I'm going to try something new and I will tell you about it the next time I write. Love, Tender Pussy, Lorrie. MARCH 27, 2009 To LOOKING88 from Ed0613 Dear Tender Lorrie: I was worried when I didn't hear from you yesterday but now I understand. I took my new lady friend Rita out for dinner the day before yesterday and what a time! She is kind of small. I guess you could call her petite but she can eat like a farm hand. She put away an appetizer, a 16-ounce steak with all the trimmings, a dish of crème frappe, 4 cocktails and a cup of coffee. When we went back to her place, I was afraid if I stuck my dick in her she would burst like a piñata but she didn't. We fucked like a couple of rabbits until almost daylight. I think I'll be seeing a lot of her. Love, Finally Getting Enough, Ed. MARCH 28, 2009 To Ed0613 from Looking88 Dear Getting Enough Ed: I'm so excited I can hardly contain myself. I told you I was going to try something new, well I did! I got a job at a massage parlor. Besides me, there are 3 or 4 girls and a big, burley bouncer that watches the counter and the door. I work 6 PM to midnight, five days a week. Yesterday, Friday, was my first day and I made over $400 in 6 hours. All I have to do is rub the men's bodies with some oil, turn them over and massage their cocks until they cum. For each customer I get $30 if I have my clothes on or $50 if I am nude when I do it. (Nobody ever did ask me to do it with my clothes on) I also get tips from the men and most of them gave me $20. I have to let the men touch me but I am not supposed to fuck them. The first two guys I had looked like business men. They were together and each one waited while I did the other one. The first one just lay there with his eyes closed while I jacked him off but the other one rubbed my ass and felt my tits. They both gave me $20 tips. The next guy was an older man but really neat! He was kind of small and mousy with a bald head and very white skin. When I turned him over he had a hard on with the smallest dick you can imagine. It was perfectly shaped but smaller than a hot dog, about 4 inches long and no bigger around than my thumb. It was the cutest thing I ever saw. I fondled it and caressed it for a while and then I couldn't help myself, I took it in my mouth. He had an orgasm almost immediately but because I didn't know him, I had to spit out his cum. (I'm not supposed to give them blowjobs anyway.) He tipped me $50 and said he would ask for me the next time he came in. The next guy was just average Joe, but he only tipped me $10 and he pinched my right tit very hard. I told Craig, the bouncer, and he said he would take care of him next time he came in. I don't think I will ever forget the fifth guy. He was a huge hulk of a man, at least 300 lbs with hair all over his body. He looked like a bear. When I finished rubbing his back with the oil, he looked like a wet dog with his fur all slicked down. I turned him over and you couldn't even see his cock and balls for the hair. While I was massaging his chest he put his hand on my ass. It was as if he gave me an electric shock! I was never so turned on in my life. While I was doing his upper torso, he was putting his hands all over me. He touched my pussy and I thought I was going to faint. The juice was running down my leg. Finally I had to stop what I was doing and let him finger fuck me until I had a climax. By the time he finished that, his cock was standing straight up out of the hair like a tree out of the forest. I jacked him off and he shot cum so high in the air I thought it hit the ceiling. There were gobs of it everywhere, on the table, on the floor, on me, on his face and some even went as far as the chair in the corner of the room. I had to clean it all up. He thanked me, gave me $30 and said he would be my regular customer. I was so wiped out that it was all I could do to finish my last customer. He touched my pussy but because it was so sloppy he quit and wiped his hand on the bed sheet. He still gave me a $20 tip. Anyway, that was my first day at work. I work again tonight but tomorrow is Sunday and the parlor is closed and I don't work on Monday but on Tuesday I work from 6 to Midnight. Love, Hot Stuff, Lorrie. MARCH 29, 2009 To LOOKING88 from Ed0613 Dear Hot Lorrie: Working in that massage parlor sounds like quite an experience. I'd like to hear more about that. I have had quite an experience of my own with my new friend, Rita. Last night we went to dinner and then came back to my apartment with a couple of her porn movies that I hadn't seen. We were side by side on the couch, watching one of them when she said she wanted to lie down. She stretched out with her head on my lap. Right away, she made some remark about the uncomfortable lump that was there. She unzipped my pants and, when she had trouble getting my hard cock out, she made me take my trousers and my boxers off. Now she was lying there, with her head on my nude lap and my hard dick folded between my legs, held there by the side of her face. She began caressing my balls and cock with her hands. When she kissed it, right on top, it was all I could do to keep sitting there. Finally she started sliding her lips back and forth on it without taking it into her mouth, like she was playing a harmonica. Just when I couldn't take it any more, she swallowed it. She is obviously well schooled in 'deep throating' because she was able to take it all, right down until her nose was buried in my pubic hair. Although I am not huge, I am a respectable seven or eight inches. She never batted an eye when I erupted into her mouth and kept sucking until I had to drag her off. I was so sensitive I couldn't touch it for a few minutes. I felt that turn about was fair play so I made her take off her clothes and sit on the couch. I sat on the floor in front of her, put her legs over my shoulders and buried my face in her snatch. I sucked, nibbled, licked, prodded and poked at her pussy and clit with my tongue until she was begging for mercy. Finally, when I knew she was in the throes of her second or third orgasm, I quickly got up and stuck my dick in her pussy. She was so wet I could barely feel it go in but I must have hit a home run because she let out a wail and wilted, jerking spasmodically every time I moved at all. When I shot my wad and quit fucking her, she curled up into a fetal ball and whimpered incoherently. I put her in my bed and she slept through until this early this morning. She called a cab and left before I got up. I tried to call her a few minutes ago but she didn't answer. How is it going at the massage parlor? Love, Ed. MARCH 31, 2009 To Ed0613 from Looking88 Dear Ed: Sorry I didn't write yesterday but there wasn't much to say. I worked Saturday and it was pretty much a repeat of Friday but with nothing outstanding like the day before. "The Bear" didn't come in, but handling all those cocks made me very hot so I had to use my vibrator when I got home. The massage parlor was closed Sunday and with Todd away, I was down in the dumps. Finally in order to feel a little better, late last night I went into a chat room on the computer. I talked with a bunch of people and finally I was talking to just one guy. He was kind of rude but he made me hot. He said he was masturbating as we talked so I got my vibrator and joined him. He sent me a picture of his dick with cum oozing out of it and that did the trick, I had an orgasm too but I don't have a camera so I couldn't show him. Interesting E-Mail He wanted my phone number but I wouldn't give it to him. He got mad so I just signed off. I work at the massage parlor again this evening. I hope "The Bear" comes again. I think I have found out something about myself. I like men! Actually not men, just their dicks. I like to see them, feel them, touch them, caress them and most of all, taste them. I love the feeling when I wrap my hand around one with just the head sticking out and suck the little bit of pre-cum off the end. I think I will try that this evening and see what whichever guy I do it to thinks. Love, Dick Lover Lorrie. April 1, 2009 To LOOKING88 from Ed0613 Dear Dick Loving Lorrie; Glad things are going well for you; it's very quiet here for me. I tried to contact Rita but she didn't answer her phone until late this afternoon. She was very vague and said she couldn't see me any more. She wouldn't tell me why so I told her to go fuck herself and hung up. Now I'm sorry I did that but that's water under the bridge so I guess I will be looking for a new piece of ass. By the way, just where in Atlanta is that massage parlor where you work? Love, Ed. April 2, 2009 To Ed0613 from Looking88 Dear Ed; Wow! What an evening! I had just gone into the office at the massage parlor last night when the cops raided the place. They went through all of the private rooms and caught one of the girls fucking a client, (we are not suppose to do that but some of the girls do it for extra money) and another girl jacking a man off. They arrested everybody there. They had taken us to a holding cell at the police station when "The Bear" showed up. It turns out his name is Guido and he is a big Mafioso. He also owns the parlor. Anyway, he knew all the cops and talked them into letting me go. Since they hadn't caught me doing anything he convinced them that they couldn't arrest me. (I think he also paid them off). He had his chauffeur bring me back to the dorm in his limo. It scared the hell out of me and I think I am through with the massage business, at least as a professional. I know you said that you are in St Petersburg Florida. Spring break starts Sunday and I need to get away from here for a few days. Could I cum and visit you? If I leave after class tomorrow, I can be there by early Saturday morning. Love, Horny for You, Lorrie. April 2, 2009 To Looking88 from Ed0613 Dear Horny Lorrie. I would love to have you. The sun is shining, the weather is warm, the beaches are beautiful and I am hard. Call me at 727-555-3408 and I will take care of everything. Love, Waiting to Meet You, Ed. --30— Copyright © 12-06-2009 by E. J. Sheeran. All rights reserved. This work, in part, or whole, is not to be distributed, reproduced, transmitted or posted, in any manner, without the express written permission of the author. For comments on this story contact me through the link below. Interesting Hobby This is the first story I've written in awhile. Let me know what you think. As the owner-operator of a small hobby shop, I've dealt with all kinds of people, and had a lot of experience reading the intentions of my customers. Every so often, however, one manages to surprise me, sometimes in a very pleasant way. I stocked a full line of sports cards, which attracted all of the younger kids in the area to my store. After school and weekends were always hopping for me, and I got to know a lot of the kids pretty well. There was always this one boy who stayed in the background of his group, never once spending any money. His clothes were always neat and clean, if not a little bit shabby and worn. The only thing I really ever learned was that his name was Gabriel. One Sunday morning, after the newest basketball cards had come out, I was surprised to see Gabriel come in by himself. He spent a long time standing at the counter, just staring at the hot cards in the cases. I started up a conversation with him, and discovered that he was a very bright young man, and that his mother worked very hard to make sure he had what he needed, but that there was rarely enough for anything fun. Over the next few weeks, he made a habit of coming in early on Sundays, before any of his friends came in, so that we could talk. I eventually offered him a part-time job, doing some light cleaning, card sorting, and things of that nature. He said he'd have to check with his mother first, but she wouldn't get off work until later that day. He promised to bring her in to meet me, so the three of us could discuss his working for me. After he left, things had gotten pretty busy, and I had actually almost forgotten my job offer to Gabriel, so when he came in just before closing, followed by his mother, I was a bit surprised. Then I got a look at his mother. She couldn't have been much older than 30, if even that old. She was a bit on the heavy side, but that's never bothered me much at all. Some of the best nights (and days) of my life have been spent with larger women. She was very well endowed, and was wearing a waitress uniform that hugged every plush curve of her body. Her skin was pale and creamy, dotted with freckles in all the right places, and she had the reddest hair I'd seen in quite a while. I welcomed the two of them in, and offered them a seat while I finished up closing the store. Gabriel was practically bouncing in his seat, he was so excited at the prospect of being able to get all the things he'd watched his friend's buy all this time. I sat across from them, introduced myself to his mother. "Hi. My name is Eric, and I'd really like to offer Gabriel a job here, helping out." "I'm Elizabeth Baker. You already know Gabriel. He talks about you all the time, and when he called me to tell me you'd offered him a job, I was pretty surprised. Do you mind if I ask why you're doing this?" "Honestly, I could really use the help, and having gotten to know so many of the kids in the area, your son is one of the few I think would really take this seriously, and appreciate the opportunity this is. I'm not going to work him into the ground, if that's a concern. My thoughts were that he could work maybe 5-6 hours a week, mostly after school. I can always use help getting things sorted and filed away, and I know Gabriel would do a good job for me. I'd pay him $6.00 an hour, and of course, his school work would have to come first." I could see the surprise in her eyes when I said how much I'd pay, and even more when I mentioned his schoolwork. She paused a moment to think, and I could almost see the hope fighting with the skepticism. "I think we can try this for a few weeks, at first. If it's okay with you, I'd like to reserve the right to change my mind on this if his grades start to slip at all. Gabriel is doing very well in school, and I really want him to work hard, to get into a good school later on…" "I wouldn't have it any other way, Elizabeth. Can he start tomorrow?" I asked. "Of course. I know how anxious he is for this. Gabriel, say goodnight to Eric, and wait in the car for a minute, would you please? I'd like to have a few words in private with your new boss." "Sure, Mom. Bye, Eric! See you tomorrow!" We both laughed as he practically floated out the door, happy as he was. "Why?" "Why what? Why offer him a job?" "Yes. Why do this, when you barely know either of us at all. Why go out of your way to do something like this?" "Because I really like your son a lot. He's been coming in every Sunday morning for several months, now, and we talk about all kinds of things. Honestly, he's told me a lot about you, and how hard you work just to provide the basics for him. I know he wants to have the money to spend on the stuff I sell, but he also wants to help you, so you don't have to work so hard. You can't tell him I'm telling you this, but he really wants to make enough money to buy you a new TV for your bedroom. He says you never get to watch anything you want to see, since he's always watching the one in the living room." Her eyes watered a little, and she smiled. "Your son is a very good young man, and I'd really like to help him out as much as I can, without making him feel like he's getting something for free, or worse, charity. I'm going to make him work, but have fun at the same time." As a small tear ran down her cheek, she smiled even bigger. "You are a very good man, Eric. My son is very lucky to have you as a friend." "I'm the lucky one, Elizabeth. I get to do something good, and not work as hard at the same time. The perfect plan, if you ask me!" She laughed, and then surprised us both by giving me a big hug. Her breasts pressed into my chest, and reminded me of just how attractive she really was. I put my arms around her, and I could almost feel her relax into it, before she pulled away, wiping her face. "I need to get him home, so he can do his homework. He'll be here right after school tomorrow, though." "I'm looking forward to it, Elizabeth." "Please, my friends call me Beth. I really hate to be called Elizabeth." "I think I can handle that, Beth. I'll see you again soon?" "Yeah, I think so, Eric. I think so…" She turned and walked out to her car, and as she left, I found myself admiring her shapely behind. Smiling, I locked the door behind her, and went back to work. The next day, right on schedule, Gabriel came in, and I put him to work. He really threw himself into his job, and did everything I asked him to do cheerfully, and with a real effort to please. We quickly settled into a routine, the two of us. He'd come in, work for an hour or two, and then do his homework, sometimes asking for help. I found myself looking forward to his time in the store, more and more. He talked about how happy his mom was for him, and said she always asked how I was, and admitted she had asked if I had asked about her at all. He laughed when I blushed just a little, and said he told her I asked how she was all the time. The thought of her wanting to know how I was sent a little shiver up my spine. The end of the school year came all too quickly, and Gabriel brought his report card in to show off to me. He had gone from a solid B+ student, to an almost perfect 4.0 over the few months he'd been working for me. I told him how proud I was of him, and surprised him by giving him a $50 bonus. He looked at the money in his hand, and I would have sworn he was going to buy cards. "Eric, do you think you could take me TV shopping tonight? I finally have enough to get Mom a nice TV." I had forgotten his goal, and quickly agreed to take him. He called his mom, and told her I had asked to help with a special project, and he'd be getting him just a little later than normal. She agreed it was okay, then asked to speak with me. I was actually a bit nervous to speak to her, remembering that hug. "Is everything okay? What's going on?" "I, uh…need some help picking something up, and Gabriel offered to help out for a little while. I'll be sure to drop him at home when we're done, Beth." "Oh, okay. Maybe you'd like to stay for dinner, tonight, then. I'd love to have you…I mean, WE'D love to have you stay…" I could hear her embarrassment through the phone lines, and laughed. "I'd love to. It's a date, Beth." "Great! I'll pick up what I need as soon as I leave work at 6pm. Will you be there by then?" "If not, I'll call you and let you know. How's that?" "Perfect! See you tonight, Eric!" "See you soon, Beth." I hung up the phone, turned to Gabriel, and told him the plan. He got this big grin on his face, but didn't say anything. We went and did our shopping after I closed the shop, and we ended up getting there about 15 minutes before she was due home. Just enough time to get the TV in the house, and put a big bow on it. Beth walked in the door, and stopped dead in her tracks. "What's this? Where did this come from?" Gabriel ran up to her, and threw his arms around her. "I bought it for you, Mom! I saved up all the money I made from work to buy it for your bedroom!" By this time, both of them were crying, and I admit, I had a tear in my eye, as well. Beth and I made eye contact, over Gabriel's shoulder, and she silently mouthed the words, "thank you so much." I shrugged, almost embarrassed by my small part in the whole plan. Beth started dinner, and went to change out of her uniform. She came back in wearing a pair of jeans that clung to her like a second skin, and a loose top that accented her breasts, without showing too much skin. She had applied just a hint of makeup, and looked quite sexy to me. Dinner went over quite well, and Gabriel couldn't wait to see how the TV looked set up in his mom's bedroom. I helped him unpack it, and carried it into her bedroom for them. As I entered the room, I couldn't help but notice the fact that her room was cramped, but very clean, except for the pair of panties lying on the sink. My expert eye noticed they were thongs, which I absolutely love, especially on bigger women. I saw Beth run over and grab them, so I pretended not to have noticed. We made eye contact again, and she smiled, embarrassed. I grinned, and looked away, not before noticing she was checking me out just a little. After we set up the TV, Gabriel went to watch his own show, leaving his mom and I alone in her bedroom. She sat down on the bed, picked up the remote, and flipped on the TV for the first time. I watched from the doorway, not wanting to seem too forward. "You can come sit down, Eric. I promise not to bite." "Maybe that's why I'm not sitting down, Beth. Maybe I like to be bitten." I said, grinning. "Maybe I had no intention of keeping my promise. Unless you sit down, you'll never know, will you?" "You do bring up a good point, but I was actually about to head out for home. I have an appointment pretty early in the morning. Rain check?" I felt bad. I could see the disappointment on her face as she got up off the bed. "Of course, you can have a rain check. I'll walk you out." We left the room, and as I said goodnight to Gabriel, I sensed some disappointment there, as well. Beth walked out into the hall with me, closing the door behind us. "Eric, thank you so much. You have done so much for Gabriel and I, that I wish I could repay you, somehow." "Seeing the two of you happy is more than enough for me, Beth. I really do like the both of you a great deal." Beth slid her arms around me, and looked into my eyes. "I hope you mean that the way I'd like you to mean that, Eric. I am very attracted to you, and would love for you to stay the night with me." "What about Gabriel? I don't want to do anything to upset him." "This was his idea. He knows I'm attracted to you, and told me to go for it, no matter what. He wants this to happen, too." I bent down, and planted a gentle kiss on her lips. At least, that was the plan. As soon as our lips met, passion took over. Beth pulled me closer to her, slipping her tongue into my mouth as she did so. Our tongues danced, and my hands moved up her body to her face. I broke the kiss reluctantly, and smiled. "Perhaps we should move back inside?" Without a word, she took my hand and led me to the bedroom. Gabriel turned around, saw me with his mom, and grinned. I smiled, and followed Beth. As her door closed, I could her Gabriel turning up his TV louder. We both got the giggles about that for a moment, until Beth pushed me down on the bed, and lowered herself on top of me. Our eyes met, and she smiled. She reached down and pulled her top over her head, exposing her large tits to me. My hands immediately went to work, kneading and caressing those large globes of fun. She moaned at my touch, and bent to kiss me again. I slipped my hands around her, and unclipped her bra, letting those babies free. She shrugged out of it, pinching her nipples and making them stand out more than they did already. I pulled her down to me and wrapped my lips around one, then the other, sucking and biting at them like a nursing child. She pulled my shirt over my head, and rubbed her tits against my chest while we kissed. My hands rubbed and squeezed her ass as she ground herself against my rock hard cock, which was straining to be let free. She slipped down my body, kissing me as she went, and undid my jeans. My cock was trapped in my briefs, but not for long. Beth undressed me completely, then took my cock in her hands, kissing and licking her way up the shaft to the head. I almost came right there, she was so good at it. She worked my cock over for quite awhile, giving me the best head I'd had in a long time, if not ever. "If you're not careful, Beth, I might not be able to hold back." I said. She stopped her work long enough to smile at me. "And that's a bad thing? I want to make you come. I want you to come for me like you've never come for anyone before…" Hearing that, there was no way I could fight it any longer. Beth wrapped her lips around my cock again, just in time for me to explode. I felt like I was shooting gallons of hot seed into her mouth, but she never stopped sucking, swallowing everything I had, and wanting more. As I settled, she gently licked and sucked all the come from my cock, leaving me clean and spent, for the moment. She moved back up my body, and we kissed again. I tasted myself on her tongue, and loved it. She snuggled against me, but I rolled her onto her back. "My turn, Beth. I want to do for you what you just did for me." She moaned her assent, and I went to work. I undid her jeans and slipped them down her shapely legs. Her scent was overpowering immediately, and as I slipped her legs apart, I could see why. Her little gray thong was dark with her juices, she was so wet. I buried my face into her snatch, running my tongue along the folds of her pussy. Her clit was rock hard, and just begging to be played with. So I did. I sucked it, licked it, rubbed it between my fingers, used every trick I knew on her, to give her as much pleasure as she had given me. I felt her body quiver and shake, and knew she was close to her first orgasm. I slipped a finger into her, and she moaned long and loud, her juices gushing past my hand as she exploded into ecstasy. I kept up the rhythm, driving to the edge and beyond. Her legs wrapped around my head, and she pulled me closer to her tight pussy. I buried my face in there once again, bringing her to more and more pleasure. Eventually, she pulled me away, totally spent. "My god, Eric. No one has ever done that for me like you just did. That was incredible." "I love to give pleasure that way. I've always had a gift for it, I guess." "I'll say you have a gift for it, all right. I've never had so many orgasms in one stretch before. I'm worn out." I smiled, and kissed her gently on the lips. We lay there together, close in all the right spots, her tits pressed to my chest, her wet pussy against my leg. I know we dozed off for a little while, because the next thing I knew, Beth was straddling my legs, and my cock was buried deep within her. She saw I was awake and smiled. "You fell asleep, but this big thing was wide awake. I didn't want to waste it, so I put it to use. You don't mind, do you?" "Never. I am your servant, forever and always." She leaned down and kissed me, all the while riding my cock. We moved together in rhythm, giving and receiving pleasure from the other, Beth leaking her juices around my shaft as she came, again and again. Finally, I felt my own release approaching. "Beth, I'm about to come, baby." "Do it for me. I want you inside me when you come." I couldn't have held back if I wanted to. My cock spit forth another heavy load of come deep into her waiting pussy, and she expertly milked me dry. She collapsed on top of me, and we lay there together for a time, each completely spent. Eventually, she moved to lay beside me, and whispered in my ear. "Would it be forward of me to say that I'm falling in love with you?" I turned to her and answered her with a kiss. "Not at all. I fell in love with you quite a while ago. I want to spend the rest of my life making love to you, Beth. You make me feel like no one has ever made me feel before." She laid a gentle kiss on my lips. "I feel exactly the same about you, Eric. Never leave me." We were married within a few weeks, and almost nine months to the day of our first night together, baby Lauren was born. I adopted Gabriel as my own, and together, the four of us lived happily ever after.