Chapter 5: Tall, Blonde, and Fully Armed

The Saturday morning light came through a crack in the blinds. Wisely, it shone upon the beautiful, sleeping form of Jenny who was curled up asleep besides me on her bed. I leaned against my hand and watched her, from outside the sun beam. Peaceful and quiet, she glowed with life. Tears welled in my eyes as I thought about the night before. It had been a long time for me. A little too long maybe, but she...

Never mind.

Just succeeding in not waking her in the process, I got up from her bed. After one last look, I shut the door to her room leaving it unlatched so not to disturb her. I padded down the hall and walked into the foyer. As you may recall, dear reader, that was where the two of us had deposited our clothing. The AC felt too cool on my exposed genitals and rear, plus I had never learned to feel comfortable flapping around free and easy, plus flying bacon grease does not tickle. The sum total came to my needing at least my briefs before I started breakfast (Ken’s rules of conduct number four: always cook breakfast for your date when applicable).

Besides there was a roommate about...

“Not bad for a white boy.”

... and a beautiful, blond Viking-warrior-princess disguised as a police officer.

Please imagine the following from a cartoon; the wasckly wabbit has once again turned the hunter’s devices against him. The hunter has been blown to kingdom come, and covered in black soot, he stands before the camera wearing just his pokka-dot boxers. He grins; he blushes; he covers himself with both hands as he makes the universal body gesture for “I really gotta pee.”

Got that picture in mind?

That was me.

Without the boxers.

“Hahahahaha ha,” I meekly giggled with a machine gun cadence.

“But his vocabulary is a little bit larger than I have been led to believe,” she said as she sized me up.

Hopefully, not because she was deciding where a karate kick would do the most damage.

“Uh.”

“That’s the word I was waiting for,” replied my tormentor, starting to the kitchen behind me. As she went by, her hand flew out. It landed with a loud smack right where the huge scar that ran down my leg began on the left cheek.

“Erp!”

“Hmmm, damp. Good boy, he sleeps in the wet spot.”

(Rule number two)

Before I could reply, she had disappeared into the kitchen. I sorted through the scattered clothes for something more than my underpants (inclusive) to the sound of first water running from a tap and then a coffee maker starting its morning duty. Eventually, I assembled shirt, Fruit of the Looms, and pants to protect my charms from further unnecessary observation.

If not out right abuse.

On entering the kitchen, I found Joe DiMaggio’s second greatest contribution to mankind finishing its work with a gurgling sound. The pot was about a cup short. The cop sat at the small table which filled the corner opposite from the counter with the pot. In both hands, she held a coffee mug reading “Nightsticks Make for Better Lovers” that I assumed held the missing coffee. After a sip, she looked and smiled at me (evilly). I blushed; I grinned; she gestured towards the coffee maker with her mug. That directed my attention to another with the words “Yes, Ma’am” on it.

I looked at her. She nodded at a slight angle. With a sigh, I poured myself some coffee using the offered mug and took the kitchen chair across from her. She smiled at me, again.

I got more worried.

“So, have fun last night?”

“Uh.”

“Sure as heck sounded like it.” She took a swallow of coffee, then looked at me with eyes like blue lasers. “And don’t say ‘Uh’ this time!”

Taking my lines from the borrowed mug, I replied, “Yes, ma’am.”

“Good boy.”

We both sipped our coffee in silence. She studied me over her cup; I avoided eye contact. I no longer feared a karate kick. I merely prayed that, for whatever reason she continued to size me up, it wasn’t going to hurt badly.

After a half cup, I found my voice. “Where’s Kim?”

“Hmmm, Kim is still in bed. She won’t be bothering us.”

She gave me another quick moment of study. “But what you really want to know is who I am and what I’m doing here.”

Yes, that would have been a good next question, and one I should have been wondering about. I hadn’t because the woman acted as if she owned the place; her presence felt natural enough that I had never questioned it, like one would never question the presence of a siamese cat.

“I’m Sherry, Kim’s friend. I really enjoyed the book you helped her find.”

I gulped down some coffee before replying. “I was just doing my job.”

“Yes,” she answered, “but there aren’t a hell of a lot people who will do that anymore.”

I shrugged. “What I would like to know is what do you want from me?”

“Hmmm, the boy has teeth after all. I was beginning to wonder,” she said aloud to herself. Then, she replied to me, “I would just like to find out a little about you. I wouldn’t want to see Jenny hurt. She’s very special.”

I looked at her, lifting my eyes from the portion of the table at which I had been staring. It was my turn to study.

I watched for any sign that her and Jenny had...

The look on her face clearly said, never you mind.

I realized right then that it was none of my business.

I sighed and went back to looking down at my half of the tabletop. Having just met me, Jenny may have only used me for the night. Tonight, tomorrow, even Sunday in the afternoon, she may wish to go her own way without me. I could hope for more, but I had no claim on her.

“A gentleman, too. Very rare now days.”

My head snapped up and hissed, “will you quit talking as if I weren’t even here!”

“Sorry, it’s a very bad habit of mine.” This time, she smiled for real. She rose for from her seat at the table and made her way by me. “Tell Jenny that I’ll be getting off at five and that she can leave Kim pretty much alone till I get here.”

She stopped behind me. Bending over, she planted a peck on my cheek. “By the way, you pass.”

With that, she left me to my devices in the kitchen.

It weren’t much of a kitchen.

Granted, an omelet pan may have been a bit much to ask for, but no eggs?

I did, eventually, find a box of pancake mix and a partial carton of milk that I stretched with a little water.

By the time I had built a decent sized stack, Jenny had entered in a robe she had tossed on without bothering to tie shut. It treated me to peeks of her body as she silently went to the coffee maker. Standing on her pretty toe tips to reach into the upper cabinet, she removed a mug covered with small pictures of harp playing angels floating across it. She filled it with coffee and walked over to hug me tightly from behind.

I was rewarded with the second peck to the cheek that morning.

“Good morning, Jenny.”

“Good morning, Kenny.”

She giggled at the bad poetry of our names together.

After finishing, she added “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” I replied. “But I needed breakfast too.”

“Especially after last night, stud,” she said as a hand moved to my crotch. “How many times did we do it last night?”

“I wasn’t counting.”

She giggled into my ear. I felt her tongue on my earlobe. “I was.”

Jenny stepped away from me and went to the table with her cup in her hand. She sat in the place that Sherry had occupied during my interrogation and pushed Sherry’s used mug to the side and placed her own down on the table.

Noticing the cup I was using, she shook her head with another giggle. I brought her a plate of pancakes and placed it in front of her with a flourish.

“Your breakfast, mum.”

“Thank you, Kenneth,” she answered with the same stilted, stuffy voice that I had used in serving her.

As she ate, I finished turning the batter into pancakes, eating one while I made the next. When offered seconds, Jenny refused. She also suggested that I not make any for Kim.

“She won’t be leaving bed for quite awhile,” she explained.

With the last cake, I stood at the stove with empty plate in hand. Jenny smiled at me and got up from the table and went to the coffee maker. First pouring herself a cup, she carried the glass pot over to me and refilled mine and placed the pot on the counter. She then took the plate away from me to set next to the pot. Without anything to block her, she reached up and touched her lips to mine.

Too quickly, she stepped away from me again.

“Let’s go get cleaned up, big boy.”

Ignoring our freshened coffee, she took my hand to lead me along. She was almost skipping and moved just a little faster than I was. I, thus, was dragged into the bathroom where she quickly shed her robe.

“Strip!” she told me.

I complied with her command, during which time she started the water and adjusted the temperature. When I took my briefs off, I found myself shoved into the shower. The water was warm but not hot. I relaxed in the water for a moment and the spray hit me in the face. When I turned, it was to Jenny with the Nancy loves Ronnie look on her face again.