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Take The Pledge

By: Dinsmore



He had fallen in love with her soft blond hair done up in pig tails and her bright blue eyes in the second grade. She had been taller than he had been back then. He was smaller than most of his classmates and not remotely athletic. Another girl had actually beaten the crap out him early the following school year. He was often teased and picked on in elementary school but never by her. She'd always been kind to him. She'd endured his clumsiness during dancing class, even asking him to dance when he was too fearful to ask anyone to dance. 

Their parents knew each other; perhaps that was why she had been kind. His parents worked for a living; hers did not. Her parents were divorced and she spent most summers with her mother in some upscale site on the Riviera. He spent most of his in a primitive log cabin in the back woods of Maine. 

His parents were "wannabees", desperate to cling to even the lowest rung of the social ladder. Hers were descendants of the earliest settlers in the New World; in the history books, her great grandfather had a paragraph devoted to his exploits as did her grandfather. Her father's exploits graced the tabloid gossip pages; the articles focused on his womanizing and his penchant for marrying the wrong women time and time again. 

His father killed himself one day and the family's grip on the social ladder slipped. No more private school or dancing classes. They moved. His mother remarried and they moved several more times in the next few years. They ultimately ended up on a small farm in a desolate region of what was commonly known as Appalachia. 

His parents drank and his step-father abused him. That marriage---his mother's fourth---ultimately ended in divorce after she got beaten badly enough to leave permanent scars. He had stopped the beating by confronting his step-father with a .270 Remington deer rifle. Something in the scared young boy's eyes had told the cruel man that he would not dissuade the boy from killing him. 

The awful man had denigrated the young boy at every opportunity. His favorite expression had been an old rural colloquialism: "you can't make a silk purse out of a sow's ear." He had beaten the frail youth often and viciously. 

The step-father's departure coupled with a growth spurt quickly served to reshape the boy's potential future. In the summer that followed the bastard's permanent exit from his life, he constructed a crude set of weights from old pipe, cement blocks and cast off farm implement parts. 

His mother had been told that he was quite bright but didn't apply himself. He hung out with the losers and was viewed as a loser by other classmates. He often got in trouble in school, more acting out than anything else and nothing criminally serious. Still he had endured too many visits to the principal's office, coupled with a hard paddling which was always followed by a severe beating when he got home. 

When he showed up in late August prior to his sophomore year in high school for football tryouts, he expected to be ridiculed, certainly not accepted. Everyone in the small community knew what had happened to him and to his mother. To his amazement, he was met with kindness in a rural society that could not comprehend the cruelty of his step-father. 

There were barely enough kids in the small community to adequately field a football team so he was awarded a uniform. His physical training regimen over the summer had been relentless...almost obsessive. While lacking previous sports exposure and athletic prowess, he impressed both the coaches and established players alike with his tenacity, toughness and fitness. He was a faster runner than he realized, having never had the chance to compete with others. The countless runs along the mile and a half long dirt road up and down the small mountain which separated his home from neighbors had given him stamina and endurance as good or better than anyone on the team. 

He couldn't yet throw a football very well; he had the strength but not the technique or the repetitions. He was only just getting over his ingrained blink response to an object coming toward his head at high speed and often failed to catch the ball; again he was learning and his coaches saw promise. He seemed to bounce up quickly after being tackled; he paid attention and never complained. As his foot work improved during the pre-season practices, he also became adept at judging a runner's impending moves. Having done so, he always delivered a bone crushing tackle which immediately ended the opposing player's progress. 

Still a bit too light to be a linebacker, he was the perfect size for the secondary. His instincts had developed far quicker than anyone expected. After impressing the coaches in the pre-season scrimmages with his toughness he was awarded the starting job at free safety in the first game of the season, beating out a senior who had irritated the coaches with a poor work ethic. In his memory, it was the first time in his young life that he had won anything at all. He was determined not to relinquish his role as a starter and return to the far end of the bench. 

He was nervous and terribly unsure of himself through the first couple of plays; fortunately the plays were away from him. On the third play of the game, the other team's star running back stormed through a massive hole in the line, slipped past the linebackers and accelerated into a full speed dash toward the end zone. The runner in question easily outweighed the novice defensive back by fifty pounds. The coaches turned their heads away when they realized that the untested sophomore was the only person left who could prevent the easy six points. 

The tackle was perfectly executed; an all-pro would have been proud. More importantly, it was, while completely within the rules, as vicious a hit as the young opposing running back had ever received. Defensive backs were little; he on the other hand was a bruiser and he intimidated them. His reputation preceded him and he had fully expected the young safety whom he had never heard of to wimp out and attempt a half-hearted stop. He had in fact barreled directly toward him certain that his will would falter. He had misjudged. The sharp sound of the collision startled everyone in the small stadium; the force and pain startled the running back so much that he made an uncharacteristic mistake: he lost control of the football. 

Much to the young safety's surprise he saw the football sitting on the ground within arms reach. He scooped it under his body and held on to it for dear life. The referees had to pry it out of his hands. The young man came back to his senses and bounded to his feet unfazed. The home crowd cheered deliriously. He reached down and took the hand of the running back and helped him to his feet, much to everyone's surprise. 

"Nice fucking hit!" the larger boy said with a slap on the back. 

He was greeted at the sidelines by more praise from coaches and other players and more slaps on the back. He enjoyed the feeling; in a matter of barely a week, he had won a competition to become a starter and done something highly worthy of praise on the field. It represented more positive reinforcement than he had experienced in his entire miserable short life. He felt more self-worth than he had ever known. It was an addictive feeling. Maybe he wasn't a fuck-up or a loser. 

The visiting team attempted to run plays away from him following several more crucial third down stops. He took the role of free safety to heart and always seemed to be where the ball was, often delaying the players advance or making the final stop. It seemed to all that viewed that first game that he got stronger, more skillful and more bruising as the game went on. 

In the final minutes of the game, the visitors were driving down the field toward a score; the home team had a slim lead. If the opposing team succeeded in scoring there would not be enough time on the clock to recoup. The home team had virtually shut down the run; as the clock ticked down the visitors went to short passes to the sidelines to stop the clock. 

The opposing coach couldn't miss how empty the home team was leaving the middle of the field; he called a post pattern to take advantage of it. The wide receiver was open, almost standing still, a few yards from the end zone. The pass was right on the money. 

He had read the quarterback's eyes; using his superior speed he'd moved to the center of the field intent on knocking down the pass and preventing the score. Somewhere in those couple of seconds his quick mind put the pieces together. 

The clock would stop on the incomplete pass; the other team had time for two or three more plays and were within the twenty yard line. They were a stronger team who seldom failed to score within three plays inside the twenty. He needed to catch the ball, certainly not his forte. It was important; it would essentially end the game and his team would win. He would receive more back slaps and praise. That would make him feel better than anything he had ever experienced. 

He timed his leap perfectly, knowing he easily had the height to bat the ball away; that's what his coaches expected him to do and they'd be okay with that. It was time to step up; it was time to show people that he was not a loser...he was a winner. He caught the ball in what could only be called sports highlight fashion. To everyone's surprise he stayed on his feet. 

Common sense said go down and protect the ball; that's what the coaches expected. But suppose the offense screwed up and fumbled or something? A safety would result in a loss. The other team still had time outs remaining and the home team was still dangerously close to their own end zone. 

The other issue affecting his decision was simple; there was a huge empty field between him and the other end zone almost ninety yards away. He was finally beginning to grasp how fast he was; he doubted that anyone could catch him. Even if they did he'd be on the safer end of the field. His strong hand and arm crushed the ball into his side. It would have taken the jaws of life to pry it from his death grip. 

No one even touched him as he dashed down the field. The fans went nuts. There were more atta-boys and back slaps in the end zone and when he got to the bench. There would be a kick off to the visitors but they could not possibly come up with two scores in the remaining seconds. 

The head coach uncharacteristically came over as he moved to his position on the bench. 

"Coach, I know I was supposed to go down but there was no one in front of me, I..."

"That's okay, son. You done good! You made the right call. Hell of a catch and hell of a run. You are a winner."

The coach drove the point home by handing him the game ball a few minutes later in the locker room. Everyone agreed with the decision. 

That first game occurred on the Friday night prior to the Monday beginning of the academic year. In small town rural America, everyone attends the Friday night football game. Kids who had always avoided him smiled and said kind words. Even the principal who had paddled him on several occasions commended him. Teachers praised his actions. The principal asked him to step into his office during the lunch hour. It was a far different visit than he had ever before experienced. 

"John, don't worry; you're not in any trouble," the principal said with a smile. John had never recalled seeing him smile before, certainly not in his presence. 

"I'm sorry that I did not fully comprehend what you—and your mother---were going through. Had I known I would have done something about it...other adults would have also gotten involved. This is a new year for you and I sense you're feeling pretty good about the way it has begun. Don't let it go to your head. It's a lot more meaningful to have others bragging on you than to do so yourself. 

"On another note, you are very bright; you are possibly the most intelligent kid in your class according to your test results over the years but your performance in class has always been marginal. You're capable of far more...you have the potential to do great things. I'm going to challenge you to show the same work ethic, grit, determination and toughness you showed on the field Friday night in your studies. Make me---and yourself---proud. 

"One final note before the class bell rings. Adults say this all too often and don't really mean it. If you ever just want to talk, bounce a problem off of me---whatever---I'm here and you don't need an appointment. I let you down; I intend to make amends for that. Now get out of here." 

It had been completely unexpected; the principal was the last person in the world he would have thought gave a shit. His challenge did not fall on deaf ears. When first semester grades came out, John Tyler had received an 'A' in every single course. He would in fact never receive a lower grade throughout his high school years. He'd not only made the honor roll he'd made the special honors list accompanied by only one other student with a perfect record, a girl. More important than the grades, John had become almost obsessed with learning anything and everything. 

In retrospect, that sophomore year would become almost a blur in his memory. He went out for wrestling and helped the team win a district championship. He went out for track in the spring and tore up the cinders in the 220, 440 and 880. His mother sold the farm for a profit, moved closer to his high school and took a job which greatly improved their financial status. He had friends and neighbors to hang out with...good kids, not losers. 

In his junior year, the coaches decided to let him play both ways and sent him in at wide receiver on third down plays. The team had their best record in over a decade. Late in his junior year, he was nominated to the National Honor Society; he was the only junior boy to receive the honor. 

He tried out for the Junior play and to his shock was given the leading role. The teacher who directed the play told him that he had picked John because he believed he was the only one who tried out who had the brain capacity to memorize all the lines. He also seemed to project well. John knew nothing about acting but thanks to a patient mentor turned in a very respectable performance. He became more confident and sure of himself in social settings. 

He had taken the PSAT as a sophomore and earned the highest score in the class. The guidance counselor told him it might well be the highest score ever achieved at the school. He needed to be thinking about college, he had been told. With his athletic accomplishments, academic record and if he did well on the SATs he would have no problem getting a full scholarship to a regional state university---maybe even THE State University. He took the SATs as a junior just after Christmas. He cleared the magic 1,400 combined mark that ensured he could attend any university he desired. 

He got his drivers license during the summer between his sophomore and junior year when he turned sixteen. He was shocked when his mother gave him an older but well maintained car for Christmas, made possible by her improved financial situation. He had almost saved enough money during summer jobs to buy a car; she wanted him to save it for when he went to college. 

He really discovered girls and what was then known as "heavy petting" late in his junior year and the summer which followed. The cutest girls flirted with him. Girls still scared the hell out of him, at least in one on one encounters. He often went on double dates with a friend from sports to help bolster his lack of confidence. 

Date night was Saturday night; there was no time during the week nor was it the fashion. Typical dates included a movie, a burger at the drive inn and a visit to the local church sponsored dime dance followed by a make out session often in the young lady's drive way. At eighteen just as the senior year was starting, John was a virgin as were the majority of the other kids. He'd rubbed a breast surreptitiously here and there through several layers of clothing but that was as far as his sexual education had progressed. He'd never gone steady and didn't have a regular girl friend. He was a little frightened about sex. 

"Never marry a girl who let's you and if she let's you then you have to marry her," seemed to be the conventional wisdom that parents foisted on their offspring. It was terribly confusing. 

In the spring of 1965, John graduated from high school with more varsity letters than anyone could count; he was first in his class and valedictorian. He'd been voted Most Athletic and Most Likely to Succeed. He had been vigorously recruited by top schools across the country. He was an athlete, a scholar and relatively poor. His extracurricular involvement said he was well-rounded. His teachers sang his praises from the roof tops. 

He'd visited many of the schools that wanted him. His coach had significant influence on his decision. He himself had been a promising high school footballer who had been chewed up, used up and spit out by a big college powerhouse. He'd served in the war and completed his degree under the GI Bill. 

"John, you're a gutsy player but this is small high school ball. If you go to the Big Ten or SEC or even one of the independent powerhouses like Penn State or Notre Dame every kid there is going to be good, quite probably 'gooder' than you. They're going to have played against better competition in high school and have had better facilities and better coaching. You're likely to end up as a practice squad tackling dummy who gets one or two plays a game when the score is 42 to zip---and you will be expected to put academics on the back burner. They don't really care if you graduate or get an education...and I believe you do care."

"We're on the same page, coach; I want an education. Even State scares the heck out of me! Thirty-thousand students on a single campus? We don't have that many people in the whole county. Still, the Ivy League...I'd feel like a worm there...a hick from the hills. I just don't think I'd fit."

"Well, you're too damned smart to go regional; that would be a waste. Look, there are some damned fine schools, private or formerly so---schools such as Duke, Virginia, Wake---that treat football as less than a way of life and more as an extra curricular activity. They're not going to win conference championships or receive bowl bids but you could compete there and get an education right up there in quality---and status---to the Ivy League."

John ended up selecting just such a school which was ranked in the top twenty-five nationally in academics. They had a Division I football program that probably should have been at the top tier of Division II and in fact played non-conference Division II teams in order to have any hope of a winning season now and then. 

He had loved the small town feel of the historic campus of fewer than 6,000 students. The football coaches had stressed the fact that academics came before football. Not everyone who went to school there came from money and prominence. The administration seemed determined to ensure a diverse student body. There were kids like him: bright, talented, athletic, of modest means and determined to get ahead in life. 

The student-teacher ratio was as favorable as any school he had considered. The professors he had met genuinely seemed interested in their students. It was coeducational and the girls he had seen were fetching. It was far enough away from his high school town to be a dramatic change for him. 

He'd gotten laid for the first time at the beginning of the summer before college. The girl in question had gone steady with a boy through high school and everyone assumed they were among the few who were fucking. He had dumped her as soon as he graduated. John didn't even find her particularly attractive; she'd always had a weight problem and was distinctly chubby. She had come on to him at the local eatery where kids hung out. She's suggested they go for a ride and directed him toward one of the local lovers' lanes. 


Take The Pledge



They had started to make out in the front seat and she had grabbed his cock. He had removed her bra and fondled her ample breasts. She had facilitated his hand in its trip to her hairy pussy without hesitation. And then she had taken charge. 

"We can do it if you want. . . in the back seat."

He accepted her invitation and they were both soon quite naked. It was awkward and there was a certain amount of fumbling. Her bushy little twat was the hottest, softest, tightest, most amazing thing his virgin cock had ever experienced, certainly better than his own right hand. He came almost immediately. Fortunately he was young and his cock stayed serviceable. He continued to thrust inside her and grew rock hard again. She seemed very pleased and made appropriate noises. He came again. He dropped her off at her home a half-an-hour later. 

The two got together two more times before John left for a summer job closer to where he would be attending college. The second time she had sucked his cock and let him cum in her mouth. She had then trained him in the elemental points of cunnilingus. Afterwards he had fucked her from behind with her chubby butt glistening in the moonlight that streamed through the back window of his car. 

The third time she had been having her period and complained that early summer allergies had made her nose stuffy. 

"You can do it in my ass if you want; I've done it before...I don't mind."

He had almost said no; somehow it seemed dirty and unappealing. What turned him on the most was when she produced a small tube of petrolatum and proceeded to grease her own little hole, forcing three fingers of the slippery substance inside her rectum. It was an obscenely erotic vision. She had handed him the tube and he quickly understood what he was expected to do. 

Her ass was, tight, buttery and very hot. He fucked her twice that way. He was sure he preferred pussy but the ass fuck had not been remotely unpleasant. He left early the next morning and never saw her again. 

His summer job paid better than any others he had had. He was a counselor at a nine week camp which included a boys section and a girls section. The boys section was devoted to football; the well-separated girl's section was all about cheerleading. There were stiff penalties and stern warnings from the administrator about fooling around with the attendees. At the end of the lecture, the older man had grinned suggestively and indicated that fraternization among the male and female staff was certainly acceptable and expected.... just keep it down to a dull roar. 

Variety was not on the menu; quickly young men and women paired off and tended to spend the summer in monogamous relationships. He quickly caught the eye of a nubile young red head with freckles and an Irish surname. He found her quite adorable and wondered how long it would take to get a hand in her pants. 

She was far more worldly than he was; she had his cock in her mouth the first night of camp and at least once a day until the camp was over. She was sexually experienced and he was a willing pupil. He had grown very fond of her and hoped they might stay in touch when camp was over. She went to school a couple of hundred miles from where he would be matriculating. 

Alas, she told him she had a regular boy friend, that they were essentially engaged and he had just been a summer romance. It was his first experience with a girl who wasn't sizing up a boy for a tux, a ring and a stroll down the aisle. He had had no idea that such women existed but hoped he met more of them. 

He met more young women with the sweet colleen's modern attitude during his first two years in college. He avoided those with white picket fences and babies on the brain. He became a one-sport athlete and made a significant contribution to his university's fortunes becoming an all-conference safety. He loved college; he excelled academically and Appalachia soon became almost a distant memory. His mother had moved to the other coast soon after he had graduated from high school. They exchanged letters and short phone calls but didn't see each other for several years. 

Friends, many more fortunate than he was, invited him to their homes and helped expand his horizons. He signed up for dance class, ostensibly because there were hot women in that class but also because he hated having two left feet. By the end, he had become an acceptable dancer. He was thrifty; he made decent money during the summers and in jobs near campus during the school year. 

He shared a nicer apartment than he could have afforded with another young man during his junior year. His roommate's parents had taken a shine to John and felt that he would be a good influence on their own son. 

At first, he had wanted to reject what he viewed as charity. 

"What had you budgeted for rent this year, John?" His roommate's father had asked. John had told him. 

"Then fine, pay that amount. This is not charity, John; as a father I'm being self-serving. I'm depending on you to keep my son on track. You're far more grounded than he is; you have better discipline. We've noted a drastic improvement in his maturity just from being your friend. You've been a good influence on him. Keep doing so. You seem like such opposites---how did you two ever become friends?"

"He makes me laugh; as much as you wring your hands over the fact that he doesn't seem to take things very seriously---I take things too seriously at times. I obsess; he doesn't. He's a more healthy influence on me than you might realize."

John had taken his responsibilities quite seriously, much to his roommate's chagrin. At the end of the first semester, his grades had dramatically improved and he seemed to be growing up and requiring less supervision. His parents were elated. John had joined the family for part of the Christmas break. His roommate's father had handed him a check. 

"Don't even think of saying no! This is the rent you've been paying; I'm giving it all back to you and I don't expect you to send me checks for rent next semester. We've pulled our hair out over the years, wasted money on psychologists, tried military school---all to no avail. My son barely got into my alma matter---wouldn't have without my contribution to a new arts center. He was rapidly becoming a twenty year old alcoholic. You accomplished more in one semester than we have in his entire life."

"He's just finally growing up. He'll be fine. He's a good, loyal friend."

"Because he has a grown up around day in and day out to emulate. Thank you, John. We owe you more than this check."

"Don't sell him short; I had to grow up early---too damn early. He had the luxury of waiting. As much as I've ragged his ass over the last few months---and gotten him down to a two drink limit---being around him has lowered my blood pressure. I've learned a lot from him---and his parents. Thank you."

"You're a pretty neat young man, John. Know I mean it when I tell you that if you ever need anything---just ask."

John continued to excel in college and ended up sharing the same apartment until he graduated. He had struggled to decide whether it was time to go get a real job or continue his education. He had taken entrance exams for law school and business school and done well on both. His perfect two hundred on the law school entrance exam had attracted offers from the top law schools in the country. He's always found law and government fascinating but had never really thought of becoming a lawyer. At the last minute, he accepted an offer from one of the top law schools in the country. 

His roommate for two years and he were just completing the final cleanup of the apartment. Everything John owned was in a U-Haul attached to the back of his aged automobile. A moving company had picked up his roommate's stuff. The roommate was off to Europe for a year to contemplate his future. They had just picked up their last mail together and filled out forwarding cards. As they sat on the front steps for the final time, his roommate was seriously perusing a very slick formal looking magazine of sorts. 

"What the hell is that?"

"It's the ultimate jerk off publication, dear John. Cotillion."

"Say what?"

"It's the cotillion 'catalogue'. In the old days young ladies were presented to the male world of eligible bachelors at a 'coming out party' often as young as sixteen or as soon as they graduated from high school. Today with more women going to college it traditionally happens after they get a Bachelors---often from some elite finishing school---indicating that they are ready for marriage. In the old society social circles, women really only go to college to prepare themselves to be someone's wife. It's a terribly pagan ritual and I try to duck it every year but the babes...well, see for yourself!" 

John perused the glossy publication. Each page had another glamorously perfect woman's pictures with a short treatise on who she was, where she had gone to school, what she had been involved in and so on. John certainly didn't know any of the girls nor recognize any of the names until he got to page twenty-two. The name was right and too unusual to be anyone else. She was tall, blond and perfect. She still had the same sweet eyes but without her name he would almost certainly have missed her. 

"Are you going? When is it?"

"My mother would kill me if I failed to make an appearance; it's in two weeks at the Plaza."

"Your dad once said if I ever...how do I get an invitation?"

"Consider it done! As modern times have encroached there are seldom enough eligible young bachelors to fill the dance cards and you'd certainly stand head and shoulders above the average slobs. My mother is on the committee. Consider yourself an invitee. Why? I never sensed that this crap meant anything to you. By the way, you need a tux. For Christ's sake, don't buy one. I have several as does Dad and we're all the same size."

"Why? Her," John said, pointing to the picture of the girl he had fallen in love with in the second grade. 

"My, my, you do set your sights high! I've actually met her although it's been a few years. She's stunning, very rich and as cemented to the very core of old society as any one in here. I recall that she was quite pleasant...even normal which was a surprise in view of her pedigree. Although the girls aren't allowed to have dates---after all it's a horse show---I have to believe she is already spoken for. Her family is just going through the motions in the spirit of tradition and expectations."

"We went to school together: first, second and third grade. I danced with her in dancing class. She won't remember me but I remember her pretty little blond pig tails and having a crush on her. I certainly never meant anything to her but it would be fun to see her...dance with her one more time."

"I have connections, old buddy! My mother does in any event---one dance---and then you're on your own."

Two weeks later John was pretty sure that the tux he had borrowed from his former roommate was not remotely used. His good friend's parents had brought in a tailor to ensure a perfect fit and he had to admit he looked quite debonair in the evening finery. 

At the debutante ball of the year at one of New York's most legendary old hotels, each young lady descended a spiral staircase as she was introduced. They were all glamorous and there certainly wasn't a dog in the bunch. When the only woman there that John cared about descended the stairs, his heart raced. He was not alone; she was truly the most breath-taking young lady in attendance. 

Everything was terribly scripted and steeped in tradition. By his fifth dance, he knew there hadn't been a single one of them he would have kicked out of bed. They were gorgeous, elegant, bright and pleasant. Dance number six was the only one that really mattered. 

She might have recognized his name but it was a common name; he didn't really look remotely like the scrawny boy she had brushed up against in elementary school. She couldn't have had any expectation that he would be here; his parents had not been at this rung on the social ladder. 

When she smiled and he took her in his arms in the rather formal dance pose, he was almost breathless. They made small talk; she had the most beautiful, soothing voice he had ever heard. He said little, answering when she asked a question. 

"So, Mr. Tyler, where are you off to following college?" 

He recalled that the male attendees had a brief summary of their life entered in the lady's dance cards which in John's case had simply indicated that he had graduated from a very respectable university Summa Cum Laude. 

"A law school in Connecticut."

"The law school in New Haven, I would suppose."

"That's right."

"Nicely phrased and quite modest."

"And you, Miss..."

"This is all so foolish. My name is Jacqueline but it's a mouthful. Call me Jackie."

"John, just John."

"Have we ever met before, 'Just John'?" she quipped. "Your eyes seem very familiar somehow."

Before he could answer their dance had ended; there would not be another one for the two of them. Later at a heavily chaperoned post-dance gathering, they might chat again. He was almost relieved; he didn't want to lie but wasn't sure he wanted to answer her question. 

"Thank you for this dance, Jackie; I'll treasure it always. I hope this isn't inappropriate but you have the most beautiful bright blue eyes God ever gave out and your shiny blond hair...it belongs in pig tails." 

As quickly as they had come together they separated to attend to their next partner. For his part, John could have simply left at that moment but understood his obligation to fulfill his responsibilities. 

Throughout the evening he danced with a delightful assortment of beautiful, socially prominent and universally wealthy young women. He occasionally stole a glance in her direction; she was the belle of the ball. At least once, he was sure he caught her looking his way. 

The informal affair which followed did not mandate his attendance; he could have left. In spite of the formality, it was obvious that a number of the young ladies and gentlemen in attendance had a previous relationship and had gone off to pursue more interesting physical activities. John's best friend had said, "almost certainly already spoken for" so he was surprised to note that Jackie lingered. He was even more surprised when she broke away from a group of admirers and came toward him. She was very close to him; he could feel the heat of her body...taste her sweet essence. 

"So, 'just John,' you are the enigmatic bachelor of the evening. None of my cohorts seem to have a clue who you are and you unquestionable made quite an impression on all of them." The blue eyes twinkled; she was being playful but not in an unkind way by any stretch of the imagination. 

"And you?"

"Pardon me?"

"What kind of impression did 'just John' make on you?"

"Very favorable I'd have to say. At this stage in my life, I suppose I've received my share of compliments---and lines---but what you said about my eyes...my hair...it didn't come out like something either prepared or made up on the spot. It was as if it had been in your mind...and your heart...for a very long time?"

He smiled but did not really answer; he changed the subject. "Jackie, my best friend and former roommate---and sponsor this evening---told me that these affairs had become more tradition and formality than a coming out or introduction---that modern debutantes were essentially, 'already spoken for' and judging from the number that have already beat a path to the exits..."

"I was, I suppose; yes, I was until quite recently. I don't believe I am now---I'm not! How about you...are you spoken for, 'just John'?"

"I've only been in love once...second grade, but I fear it was very one sided and unrequited. So unless that beautiful little girl with the bright blue eyes, and the blue gross grain ribbons securing her shiny blond pig tails chose to speak up and claim me...I'm footloose and fancy free."

She trembled as the recognition hit her; it was the eyes that gave him away. A sweet young boy with almost sad eyes who once she'd even felt sorry for. . . a very clumsy dancer...then...not now...small for his age...frail...certainly not now. Her astonishingly quick mind wasn't at that moment thinking of marriage, picket fences or babies. She wasn't here for that; she had in fact ended an engagement that would certainly have resulted in that. 

Jackie had grown up to become a very reluctant princess. Both of her parents showered her with "things" because they seemed unable to shower her with genuine love and affection. They were kind and well meaning; she loved them both dearly but they were so terribly wrapped up in their own weaknesses and issues of their own making. 

Jackie was fortunate that her grandfather had recognized that she had not inherited the foolishness and irresponsibility of her parents. While the old gentleman had cut off her father from the family fortune, he had left him with a small trust fund. It allowed her father to continue to live in reasonable luxury. Jackie's paternal grandfather knew full well that his son was incapable of surviving without it. 

Her mother had not come from money; she had received a sizable settlement after the divorce and child support---even though Jackie only lived with her three months out of the year. She'd blown through the original settlement and no longer received the child support since Jackie was over twenty-one. She was in hot pursuit of another well-heeled husband at that very moment. 

Most of the rest of the sizable fortune was earmarked for charity; granddad had no intention of leaving wealthy heirs. He had provided for Jackie; it was a comfortable, somewhat modest and very secure trust fund. She could live reasonably well and do nothing with her life as her father had done. She certainly would never need to marry security as her mother had done. 

'Just John' had captured her imagination when she had first seen him; she had enjoyed his strong hand at her waist as they had danced. His comment at the end of the dance had taken her aback and she was not a young woman easily rattled. She had first thought that he was cute and quite dashing. He was close to or the same age as she was. It was the beginning of summer. 

As much as she was relieved to be out from under a suffocating relationship of her ill advised engagement, she missed things...male companionship, the comfort of a man's hand in hers...the physical part of a relationship. A fling had definitely been a possibility; she had come across the room to explore those possibilities. A summer affair. . . nothing past that. But then he had come dangerously close to tipping over the boat. 

She had planned to simply seduce him and inevitably fuck him and then keep him around for the summer to please her...give her comfort. But now...he was in an odd sort of way an "old friend" and protocol said they needed to talk, catch up and then maybe they could drift upstairs and fuck. If he'd really carried some torch for her since the second grade...that could get weird. She'd play it by ear. 

"Come on, 'just John' let's get out of here. I obviously need to change---you don't; you look fabulous. Meet me at the Park entrance in---twenty minutes?"

She appeared right on schedule in a turtle neck cashmere sweater and Capris. 

"I definitely feel overdressed!" he intoned. 

"Nonsense! A man can wear evening attire 24/7; a woman can't. Here's my car. Mike, take us to..."

John had no idea where they were going; he didn't even care. She had her own car and driver and, from the looks of Mike, he doubled as a body guard. His car was well into its second decade. He could not have imagined in his wildest dreams that he would be sitting next to her driving to some late night spot together. What had he expected? The normally well-grounded young man who always had a plan on or off the field was flying without a net. It was a fairytale beyond his comprehension. 




Take The Pledge



How had he missed it? She'd removed her makeup...and her hair was in pig tails with pretty little blue gross grain ribbons securing them. He could not take his eyes off of her; he was back in second grade. She was every bit as beautiful only now she was a young woman...a tall, flawlessly beautiful, perfectly appointed young woman. He wanted to kiss her, hold her in his arms...make love to her. 

She made the first move, sliding across the seat, wrapping her arms around him...and her lips touched his lips...her tongue darted...she sighed almost imperceptibly and he knew his life would never be the same again. 

The kiss...it had been intended as a first step in her planned seduction. . . but it had been so much more. She fought it with every fiber in her body, breaking away gently and reluctantly. . . smiling at him as her mind raced. You're looking for fun, comfort, hopefully decent sex...a summer fling. You're not looking for the "one" and this man couldn't be...nothing in common...not any possibilities.

And then she was back in his arms trembling with the realization that no man's arms and lips had ever made her feel that way before. Her head took control again; she broke away again. They were at their destination; saved by the bell. 

She was obviously known there and the couple was quickly escorted to a private booth in what was quite obviously a very elite section. 

"We have some catching up to do, 'just John'; you go first."

John was no longer a young man ashamed of the trials, tribulations and failures of his early life. He neither glossed over nor dwelled on the most painful episodes. His life had truly been an odyssey and he knew in his heart that he would overcome whatever came his way in the future. He had turned around what had begun as a quite miserable existence. He had no regrets about what he had endured and not a vestige of bitterness. He was the most open, candid and surprisingly undamaged man Jackie had ever met. Her eyes filled with tears when he completed his saga. 

"Jackie...I never in the world would want to make you cry. I'm sorry if my story was..."

"I'm not crying because I'm sad...you didn't make me cry. I've been surrounded since birth by people who have everything on a silver platter---and their lives are a collective nightmare. They achieve nothing! They can deal with nothing! They overcome nothing! They contribute nothing. And then along comes 'just John' who should be lying on one of the many garbage heaps of life...and I realize that my story pales by comparison. The only similarity it has is that we both were surrounded by dysfunctional adults---albeit relatively rich ones in my case. I honestly believe I came through it without becoming a complete nut bag! And I'm not even sure why."

"Tell me your story, Jackie...I care."

No man had ever listened to her as attentively as 'just John.' His eyes never left her and in those eyes she saw kindness, affection, even love...and that last one frightened her. As whole and mentally sound as Jackie believed she was, love terrified her...she rebelled against it...denied it. 

One of the more benign maladies that often exist in people abused at a young age is a need to take care of someone. John's roommate had not been the first one he took under his wing...wouldn't be the last. It's benign as long as it doesn't turn into some sort of bizarre pas de deux with a codependent who needs to be taken care of. At that instant, he wanted desperately to take Jackie in his arms and love the hurt away. 

In his early twenties, John was far more grown up than even he realized. He was just glimpsing the glimmer of possibilities---the startling realization that he and Jackie could really mean something to each other...even share a life together. He resisted the urge to become paternalistic and inappropriately comforting. 

"Jackie, listen very carefully. Here we are, reasonably intact young adults. In spite of the pain we may have suffered we're here and we're okay. We may deny it but there were people in our lives who brushed up against us, took an interest, cared---or we wouldn't be alive today. 

"I didn't realize until this instant that the one thing you and I have in common in spite of our different lives is a paralyzing fear of love...coupled with a desperate need for it. Look, we survived and grew by taking control...taking charge of our lives as soon as we possibly could. I don't let people inside...don't want to get hurt. Touch my heart and you can hurt me. We'll never complete the journey until we let someone...touch us...love us...accept love in return...because those who were supposed to love us the most betrayed our trust."

"Oh, John, I'm not remotely ready for love or..."

"Neither am I...I want to be...but neither am I."

"I know you're right; I reject it, rebel against it, deny it...push it away."

"I know that feeling."

"So how do we deal with it, oh wise one?"

"We take it off the table. Jackie, I pledge to you that I am no longer in love with you as I was in the second grade, I promise not to fall in love with you---or let you fall in love with me."

"That's a little crazy!" 

"Say the pledge---take it off the table. Friends, two people somehow linked who care about each other, like each other...maybe really special friends...but not in love."

"Does that mean not lovers?" 

"That would be a popular euphemism for fucking? Sex is sex...love is love. I think fucking is allowed. Say the pledge." She did so, raising her right hand mockingly. 

"Thank you for not trying to comfort me at the conclusion of my rant. I've had all of the 'there, there' pats on the head I can handle. Every man I've ever unloaded on---including my father---has done it. You didn't. Why?"

"Believe me, I wanted to...my heart wanted to take you in my arms and try to comfort you... I've been there too; it never made me feel better. It wouldn't have made you feel better...probably would have just pissed you off."

"It is not possible that in a little over two hours we have shared so much...so candidly...you are very dangerous...but very special."

"I'm in very special company."

"Okay, let me be sure I understand the ground rules. If I say something to you that you don't like---you'll tell me. We're not in love...we're not trying to be in love...we're friends...no games."

"No games."

"Good! Where are you staying?"

"I need to call some special people and tell them I didn't get mugged; we're staying at my best friend's father's fraternity house in the city."

"I would like you to spend the night with me...back at the Plaza. I doubt that the fraternity would be the appropriate setting. Sex will be involved---but don't you dare try to make love to me! I need to be held...fucked...comforted...but no love."

"Scout's honor! Is Mike going to be okay with that?"

"Mike is family; in the years he's been employed by my family, he's probably seen it all."

John broke his scout's honor in spite of his pledge; he couldn't help himself. He made love to Jackie many times. As the night wore on, even when they fucked playfully there was a tenderness...a respect...and more. She knew it; he knew it. They just didn't talk about it that night or on the following nights throughout the summer in the comfortable little cottage that she owned in her own right on the Cape. 

The summer came to an end too soon. They had both somehow avoided slipping and saying the words. She was cuddled in his strong arms after they had made love in the early morning light. Soon he would leave for law school and she would...do what exactly?  

As John drove the relatively short distance from the Cape to New Haven he felt empty and alone. His heart and body ached at how much he already missed Jackie. She'd come visit him at law school but she wouldn't be there with him night and day as she had been for almost three months. 

John buried himself school. A note came one day in her hand. It explained why she had not answered her phone. 

"I know this is hard, sweet, dear, 'just John'. You still mean more to me than anyone in the world. I'm not running away from you or from anything for that matter. I need to go do something important, something that has meaning. I'll write as soon as I can. I'm not leaving you; I'll be back."

He'd contacted her father; the man had no idea, having received a note himself. John worried; he buried himself in his studies and achieved the same stellar results he had in previous academic pursuits. He didn't receive her first letter for two months. The postmark told him she was on the other side of the world. She had joined a non-governmental relief organization and been posted fifteen thousand miles away. 

Her letters were not frequent; the country she had been assigned to had no postal service. She spoke of her tasks and responsibilities. She seemed terribly happy doing what she was doing. He missed her; he wasn't always sure that she missed him as much but he had long ago broken the pledge. He loved her and was in love with her. In spite of her gentle hints, he'd wait until he lost all hope that she would come home to him. 

John graduated with all the appropriate accolades and honors. He accepted the top federal clerkship offered. The letters became even less frequent. As he made one more move to accept a position with a top law firm in his field, he feared that he had lost her and began to accept it reluctantly. It had now been almost four years since he had talked to her, touched her...made love to her. 

Burying himself in his new responsibilities, he was quickly promoted. Three years later and in record time for the firm he was offered a partnership. Had it not been offered, the firm would have lost their top litigator and rain maker. It had been over a year since her last letter. He knew what she was doing; "Don't wait for me, 'just John', get on with your life." She was pushing him away.

As he contemplated his thirtieth birthday he decided to try one last time before throwing in the towel. Maybe she had fallen in love...with someone else. He knew he had to know to get any sense of closure. 

It took several weeks and the calling in of some favors before he found which NGO she was currently with. It took some legal saber rattling to get the NGO officials in New York to tell him where she was. It took almost forty-eight hours to fly to the dismal little country in which she now served as director. It took almost a day by Land Rover to get to the small village where she was based. The villagers seemed very protective of her; he finally convinced one of them to take a note to her that simply said, "just John is here."

He was quickly granted entrance to the village; he saw her coming toward him, a little thin but as beautiful as she had ever been. They hugged and they wept but did not speak for several minutes. He spoke first. 

"Did you finally fall in love with someone?" he whispered. 

"No...there's no one in my life..."

"I did," he replied. 

"I hoped you would...move on...forget me...live your life..."

"Sorry, babe, I broke the pledge. I waited for you. I came to find you...I love you...come home with me or let me go...but I'm in love with you...no one else."

"That's why I left...I broke the pledge too...probably that first night at the Plaza."

"Then it's settled! Let's go home. You have nothing more to prove."

"I can't...they need me...I'm a different person than that silly little princess you knew...I..."

"There are lots of people who need help at home. Where I grew up comes to mind. Come home with me."

"John...I..."

"We're not getting anywhere. I bought one round trip ticket and a one way ticket. I leave in two days. Here's the flight information; your ticket will be waiting at the counter. I miss you so much it hurts every damn day! But don't do it because you feel sorry for me...do it because you love me...and you know I love you...and we have a life to live together...I can't stay here; if you are here and I stay...I'll have trouble leaving."

"John, just move on...I..."

"No! You have forty-eight hours, give or take, to make a decision. Those three months before law school were the happiest of my life---and yours---and you know it! You've paid your debt! You've given back and you can keep giving back at home---with me. I don't have any more words inside me and I'm so frustrated I could spit. I love you; I want to marry you...I want to spend the rest of my life with you---stop fighting me...please."

He kissed her one last time and returned to his vehicle; he was convinced that he had failed. His thoughts turned to life after Jackie. He wanted children; he wanted to fall in love...again. No challenge he had ever faced tore him apart as much as this one did. He wanted to be angry at her...he'd let her touch his heart and she had said no. But all he could do was love her...and wish that she could love him. 

What kind of man hangs on for seven years and travels 15,000 miles for a woman? A pretty special one, Jackie thought to herself. She'd done everything she could think of to push him away. She had come to believe that she would never have love...never truly give it or accept it. That she wasn't capable of it. He had snuck inside so easily. The village elder interrupted her musings a day later, addressing her in broken English. 

"You think enough...now go...go! You do much here; we are grateful. We will miss. But he miss more...you miss more...he love...you love...go to him...go to him now!" 

She almost didn't make it in time; the airplane door was closed. 

"Please, please. . . the only man who has ever loved me...I've ever loved...is on that plane...If I don't get on...it's over...forever...I can't do that to him...please?"

They relented and let her board; John had heard the door close and was for the first time in as long as he could remember beaten, defeated and lost. In spite of his strong constitution, he wept uncontrollably. His tears prevented him from hearing the door reopen. 

He looked up as a figure moved down the aisle toward him... a tall obviously female figure but through his blurry eyes...he couldn't be sure...pig tails...shimmering blond hair...blue ribbons...bright blue eyes. He feared he had become delusional and then the vision spoke. 

"I think that's my seat."

"Yours and no one else's on earth." 

He released his seat belt, jumped up and crushed her in his arms. Their lips met and their tears of pure joy flowed together. The flight attendant decided to take her time...informing the pilot that there would be a brief delay. The other passengers cheered and clapped. They took their seats and held each other's hands. 

"You cut that pretty close."

"Traffic was hell. So, bring me up to date...what have been doing while I was gone?"

"Got my law degree, did a clerkship, got a job, made partner, high six figures...the usual."

"John...the money...the money granddad left me...I always knew it would be an issue...come between us."

"I have a decent job, Jackie; I know you can't touch the principal but give away the earnings every year if it makes you feel better. I think we'll manage. Even better, use it to set up your own NGO at home in the poorest regions of Appalachia. Trust me---they need help."

"You didn't give up on me for seven years?"

"More like...hell, math is not my best subject. I lied that first night; I was still in love with you from second grade."

"Do you intend to make lying to me a habit?"

"It's a foolish man who lies to his wife."

"I'm not your wife yet."

"Maybe the Captain could help out."

"That's only on ships. You've never proposed."

"That's easily solved. I'm in love with you and you're in love with me. Will you marry me and spend the rest of your life in my arms?"

"I don't suppose you have a ring."

"Actually, I do." John said slipping the bauble on her finger. 

"A little overconfident, aren't we?"

"Dear heart, every speck of confidence I've ever had in my life deserted me when I left you two days ago. I was sure I'd lost...and when the door closed...it beat me down like nothing has in my entire life. . . even my step-father. I've carried that ring with me since the day I found out you were gone."

"Who would have thought that a touch of kindness to a fellow second grader would lead here; you don't give up easily, do you, big fella?"

"Not when there's gold at the end of the rainbow."

"I'm a pretty lucky little girl."

"We can argue about who's lucky over the next fifty years or so. With a little more luck that's the only thing we'll ever argue about."

Edited by Techsan