Chapter 6

Despite sleeping for most of the flight home, and falling asleep in the limo, I still slept until after eight in the morning local time. By the time I woke up, all the soft, warm bodies I fell asleep amidst had deserted me.

Painfully extricating myself from the bed, I managed to drain my bladder by myself. I guess I made enough noise getting up to be heard, and Pam was there when I finished.

“Good morning, sleepyhead,” she said just before kissing me. “Shower?” she asked. I agreed, and she helped wash me, being extra careful around the four large, purple and black bruises on my chest. Despite the pain, Little Brian enjoyed the view of a wet, naked Pam, and her touch as she washed me. Once I was dried off, Pam helped me sit in the chair in the bedroom, and began kissing Little Brian, eventually making him very happy.

“Everyone else wanted to help give you a shower, but I pulled rank on them,” she chuckled. “I wanted you to myself for a few minutes,” she sighed contentedly.

“I enjoyed it,” I replied, stroking her face as she smiled up at me. “Are you having second thoughts about the others?” I asked nervously.

“Oh, no,” she replied. “You and I were both going in different directions for much of the time we were over there. It was fun, but I just wanted a few minutes alone with you.”

We finally made it downstairs where my breakfast was waiting. While I ate, I was briefed about what they’d learned since waking this morning.

Pam had hundreds of e-mails and text messages from our friends and classmates. They wanted to know how I was doing. The local news had carried far more coverage of the incident than the national news.

Janice told me that Andrew had been in contact with her while we were gone, using e-mail, texting, or phoning. He landed a new account--a big one. One of our regular customers managed a professional building across from the nearby mall. Their old gardeners worked Monday through Friday to take care of the grounds. They wanted to know if we were interested in the account, but they wanted the work done over the weekend so the tenants didn’t have to put up with the racket from the mowers, trimmers, edgers, and blowers all day.

When Andrew looked at the center, he couldn’t believe that it took three men forty hours each to do the work. They had been milking the job. He took the job at the same rate, agreeing to do the work over the weekend. The first Saturday, he took all seven of my employees, and they had the entire job done in six hours. The next week, they rearranged their routes so that each of them had two days off again, and moved Adam from part time to full time.

Despite it being winter, most of the lawns we took care of were still green. A green lawn is a bit of a status symbol in Southern California. Most Bermuda grass lawns turn brown, but many customers with Bermuda grass have their lawns overseeded with winter rye to keep the lawn green all winter. Many lawns consisting of types of grass other than Bermuda grass stayed green year-round. Andrew and Wayne also did tree pruning for those customers who wanted it, having some of the others take one or two of their houses while they did all the pruning. Our customers were all quite pleased with the service and were recommending us to others. Andrew suggested starting another employee. He said that Wayne recommended someone, so Janice told Andrew to hire him.

Mom said there had been voicemails from Mr. Breland, Mr. Powell, Conrad, Rick, Roy, and even Eric Coffman thanking us for everything and hoping I was feeling better. Evidently, all the talk about the attack on the movie set had people clamoring to see the movie, even though it wouldn’t be released for a few months. The funny thing was that while everyone knew that a stunt double did it, the camera angle the news stations all used made it look like Eric did it.

Mr. Breland also wanted to talk with us about including footage of me catching and throwing the grenade as special footage when the movie was released on DVD. They would cut the scene before the terrorists were visible, and would make sure neither of the two terrorists that Conrad shot were visible when I threw the grenade back.

Once people found out we were home, there was a constant parade of friends stopping by to see us. I was exhausted by supper and went to sleep right afterwards.

My employees all came by Sunday to see us. Janice paid them for last week, and gave Andrew the thousand-dollar bonus I asked her to. I thanked him for doing such a good job, especially for landing the account at the professional building. They were paying us based on the one hundred twenty hours it took the old company, but it took us a little less than forty hours each week now--five employees on Saturday.

Monday morning we went with Janice to her OB-Gyn. We even got to see a sonogram showing the tiny blob, which made the trip especially worthwhile, despite the pain from my injury.

After lunch, I decided that I needed to do my Christmas shopping. I was kicking myself because I didn’t even think about buying anything while we were in Europe. Pam told me not to worry about it. Realizing that Christmas was the last thing on my mind while we were there, they each bought something for me to give the others.

Still, after being cooped up in a hospital room, an airplane, and the house, I was getting cabin fever. Just then, I had a brainstorm. After coming back from my room, I announced, “I’m going to go out to check on our customers.” They were all sitting around the family room, each doing something different, yet all enjoying the company and camaraderie of each of the others.

Six pairs of raised eyebrows made me think that might not be a wise idea. “What?” I asked.

“You can’t drive yet,” my mother reminded me.

“I know,” I replied, “I probably couldn’t even reach the keys,” I added, looking at the pegboard where our keys were hanging on the wall just inside the kitchen door to the garage. “Wanna play chauffeur?” I asked Pam. Six jaws dropped in unison just like six sets of eyebrows raised seconds ago.

“You’re going to let me drive your car?” she gasped.

“As long as you promise my mother that you won’t speed,” I replied.

“I promise,” she squealed excitedly to my mother, who was now laughing.

“I thought you never let anyone else drive your car,” Pam exclaimed.

“Well,” I paused thoughtfully, “there is one more condition.” Unsure what I meant, Pam just stared at me impatiently, waiting to learn the condition.

“I can’t imagine not allowing my wife to drive my car,” I said as I knelt ... slowly, and grimacing a lot ... and extended my hand, which held the ring I asked her mother to buy in Madrid.

For a brief second, the room was so silent that I could hear that everyone was holding their breath. Then Pam squealed, “Yyyyyeeeeesssss!” and threw herself at me before remembering my bruises and cracked rib. Pandemonium broke out at Pam’s exclamation, and I shrieked in pain as Pam knocked me ass over teakettle.

As I lay on the floor forcing myself to take slow, deep breaths despite the pain, I had to marvel at the ingenuity of the guy who started the rite of a man kneeling when he proposed. That way, he didn’t have as far to go before hitting the ground as he would if he were standing and she bowled him over.

“‘Sokay,” I groaned to let everyone know I was still alive. Pam was kneeling next to me, tears running down her face and dripping onto my arm while she clutched my hand.

Two hours later, the ER doctor told me no additional damage had been done other than a new bruise on the back of my shoulder. “It was worth it,” I groaned.

The doctor chuckled, and Janice intercepted Pam when she tried to launch herself at me again. “You have to wait until after you’re married to kill him or you won’t inherit his car,” she chided Pam, much to Pam’s embarrassment and the amusement of everyone else. Unfortunately, I laughed too, and that hurt like hell.

Christmas was two days later. Yesterday saw most of my old girlfriends and Pam’s new female friends who hadn’t previously dated me stopping by to see “the ring.” To the woman, they thought Pam’s reaction was hilarious, although they did claim sympathy for me. It was hard to tell if they meant if since they all were still laughing.

For Christmas, I was impressed with the gifts I gave everyone. Each of them was thoughtful, insightful, classy, and obviously, nothing I would have figured out by myself. I did have one gift for each of my slaves that I bought, or more accurately, had Granddad buy. He liked the idea so much he got them for my grandmother, too. Each of them received a set of classy silk chokers in black, red, and white, as well as one to match their favorite color. They were symbolic collars as there was no ring on them to attach a leash. They could wear the chokers with the fanciest dress or with everyday clothes. For a minute, I was worried that the reaction from the women would put me back in the hospital, but Pam intercepted them this time.

We had invited Mrs. Grimes over for Christmas dinner. She called and told us that Bruce showed up this morning to surprise her. We told her to bring him over too.

She was surprised that we thought of her while we were in Europe and bought her gifts. I was surprised, too, but wisely stayed silent while she ooohed and aaahed over the gifts.

While we were eating, Bruce asked if I thought the school would let me skip a day or two each week starting in mid-February, as long as I did my assignments the way I had while I was in Europe.

“Why?” I asked which made him grin.

“We were brainstorming, trying to come up with ways to help raise money for the NASCAR Foundation,” he explained.

[Author’s note: the NASCAR Foundation is a charitable organization that raises money to support multiple charities, especially those helping children.]

“Anyway, one of the drivers jokingly said that you should charge for a chance to ride in your car. By the time we finished playing with his idea, we realized it could work. We want to have you drive a souped-up version of your car. People can pay you to give them a two-lap ride around whatever track we’re at that weekend.

“We’ll provide two cars that look identical to yours, both souped-up like racecars, and show you how to drive them on each track. We think there will be dozens and maybe even hundreds of people at each track who will pay for a ride. You became somewhat of a celebrity when you stopped that attack,” he said.

“I’m not even healed enough to drive my car yet. I’m not sure I’ll be healed enough in two months even if the school lets me,” I warned.

“If you agree, we’ll take care of the rest,” he offered. Getting no dissent from anyone else when I looked to each of them, I agreed.

Bruce was on the phone immediately. “He agrees, but we need to get his bruises and cracked rib healed,” he warned. “Okay, send me the time and address,” he added before hanging up.

“You have an appointment with two specialists tomorrow. The first is to evaluate your cracked rib. The second is with an acupuncturist to help heal the bruising,” he explained, looking at his cell phone when it chimed. “The appointment with an orthopedic specialist who deals with athletes is at 10:00 tomorrow morning. The appointment with the acupuncturist is at 2:00 tomorrow afternoon. I’ve used him before and he still amazes me,” Bruce gushed.

“That was fast,” I replied.

“We hoped you would agree, and needed to check the status of your injuries before committing additional resources to the project. We already had tentative appointments in case you agreed,” he explained.

“Don’t worry about school. Mr. Breland will talk to the Principal. He says they were impressed that both you and Pam managed to turn in all your assignments in a timely manner, and you both did excellent on them. Breland wants to help sponsor you with ads for the movie on the car. Evidently, they’ve been pressing, hoping to release the movie in April, or even late March. He even agreed to be a co-sponsor for my car for the first half of this coming season if you agreed,” Bruce informed me.

That night was the first time since the shooting that I felt healed enough for sex aside from the frequent blowjobs I received from the women in the household, including one from my grandmother.

The girls had to do the work, and were each limited to two minutes except for Pam. She got to be the one to finish me, coaxing the load of cum she wanted. She did share it, letting each of the others share as they got a turn cleaning her out using their tongues. They were still pleasuring each other when I drifted off.

The next morning, the orthopedic specialist, assured us that my rib was healing nicely, especially considering Pam’s tackle. The original injury was minor enough that he was positive I would be ready to drive a racecar by February 1.

Dr. Chin, the acupuncturist, was a trip. The needles didn’t bother me and I was amazed at how much better I felt afterwards. He recommended a couple of herbs for me to take, and assured us that I would heal long before the NASCAR season began.

With those reassurances, Bruce was on the phone again. “He’ll be ready,” he assured someone.

The next day, Pam finally got the chance to drive my car, driving me around to see each of my employees in action. Andrew accompanied me to the Meade Plaza Professional Building to meet Mr. Carmichael, the property manager. He was definitely pleased with our work at the office complex, and had recommended us for two other properties his company managed. He told us we should hear from them within a week or two.

“You look familiar,” he commented as we were preparing to leave.

“He’s the stuntman who caught the grenade and threw it back at the terrorists,” Andrew exclaimed proudly.

“You?” Mr. Carmichael asked animatedly.

“He’s still got the cracked rib and the bruises from the bullets to prove it,” Pam interjected.

Wednesday, we heard from school despite the fact that it was still Christmas Break. Principal Woodson reminded me that Pam and I had to continue turning in our assignments on time for the days we missed. He added that he thought it was wonderful that I would volunteer so much time to help raise money for a charity.

Saturday night we had a quiet New Year’s Eve party. I realize that our household was much different than most, but there was a strong sense of family amongst us, from Pam and me as the youngest to my grandparents.

Despite only seeing Dr. Chin three times in the last five days, the bruises felt much better. I felt good enough that I managed to spend a few minutes with each of my women tonight, although we did it doggie style. Once again, Pam claimed the right to receive the load of cum everyone else helped get me excited enough to deposit inside of her. Once again, she shared.

We went back to school Monday, and Karen started classes again. She would stay home while we went to the racetracks, but we wouldn’t usually be gone more than a few days at a time. When Pam and I arrived at school, it was hilarious watching people stop and gawk, heads turning as Pam drove my car slowly into the lot. I was nearly late to every class because everyone wanted to ask me questions. I’m sure there were at least twenty-five kids who received detention today because they were late getting to class.

We heard from the property management company, too. After making sure we didn’t have to do the work on the weekend, I went out after school and looked at the two jobs. Once I estimated what I should charge, I tripled it and submitted my bid. They called that evening, giving us the jobs. After talking it over with Andrew, I knew we needed to hire two more people. Janice helped me put a help wanted ad in the paper for Wednesday.

By Wednesday night, I’d hired Steve and Jim, both of whom had previous experience. I explained that I expected their work to be first rate. After a week, Steve had worked out great, Jim, not so much. When I told him he was fired, he threatened me. My laughter caught him off guard. “You don’t recognize me, do you,” I asked. “Do you remember the news about a stuntman who caught a grenade and threw it back at the terrorists?” I asked.

“That was me,” I told him when he nodded. “I was the driving and martial arts double in a movie.” He decided he was better off taking the money he’d already earned and leaving. It was odd. Despite the bruises, the adrenaline my body released left me ready in case he had started something. Still, I was glad he decided that he was overmatched.

Justin had been my third choice and was glad to get the job. Fortunately, he worked out quite well.

By the middle of January, I was only feeling an occasional twinge from the bruises. While still excused from PE, Dr. Chin insisted that I start martial arts again, but I couldn’t spar. Starting two weeks after I first saw him, he had me doing tai chi to improve my range of motion and to keep me in shape. The orthopedic specialist pronounced my rib fully healed and gave me the okay to drive a racecar. I’d been driving my car for a week, although I still let Pam drive occasionally.

Bruce called and told me not to make any plans for weekends for the foreseeable future. Starting Saturday, I would be learning to drive a racecar.

When Saturday arrived, I was even more excited than I’d been while learning to do the driving stunts. We started with a car used by a company that people pay so they can drive around the track themselves. Alternatively, they could have someone drive them just to see what being in a racecar was like. That means there was a passenger seat.

Bruce started out slowly, meaning only reaching 100 miles an hour for the first lap. The two-mile lap took about a minute and a half to complete, and Bruce talked the entire time, pointing out marks I should hit to run the best lap time while maintaining the best control of the car. They spray-painted the marks onto the track, and I was supposed to run over the marks with the left front tire. Missing a mark meant I’d have to deal with stronger centrifugal forces that would try to push the car up towards the wall and would make it harder to control the car, or that the tail of the car would try to slide out from under me.

The second lap went by much faster as he upped it to 150. This time, Bruce only mentioned each mark as he drove over it, obviously concentrating on his driving.

The third lap had me screaming like a little girl as he hit speeds I was sure had to be close to breaking the sound barrier, all while holding the car only inches from the wall as he came out of the turns into the straightaway. That meant I was only inches from the wall as we rocketed around the course.

Pulling onto pit lane after the fourth lap, Bruce was laughing at me. “I may need to change my underwear,” I groused, causing him to laugh so hard he had to stop the car completely so he didn’t crash.

It was several minutes later before I stopped shaking. By then, his crew chief told me that we’d only hit 199 miles per hour, but averaged 174 on the last three laps. I still think we were going nearly the speed of sound.

When I finally stopped shaking, they had me drive. My first lap averaged a speedy 93 mph. Driving a car at 140 miles per hour down a drag strip definitely did not convert to the same speed on a curved track. I had to maintain a speed where I felt I could control the car through the curves. I upped it to 124 on the second lap, already feeling the external forces acting to push, pull, and twist the car towards where I didn’t want it to go. Wrestling with the steering wheel to hit my marks on the third lap, I accelerated to 143 mph. I ran two more laps close to that speed before pulling into the pits.

There, the crew chief asked about the last three laps and I explained where I had trouble keeping the tail end of the car from sliding out from under me.

“Down half a round on the track bar,” he said to one of the crew members. I watched as they complied, using something that looked like a long socket wrench on the passenger side of the car in the rear window. When I drove off again, the car handled better, and I upped my fastest lap to 157 mph.

“Not bad,” Bruce complimented as I slowed and stopped on pit lane.

“Damn, I felt like I was wrestling an alligator out there,” I complained, getting laughter from Bruce and from someone on the other end of my radio.

“The race announcers are always telling everyone how difficult it is to handle one of these cars, but you have to experience it to fully appreciate what they mean,” I said.

“Now imagine doing that with a car right next to you as you drive through the curve,” Bruce commented.

“Oh, hell no,” I retorted emphatically, adding laughter from the pit crew to Bruce’s laughter and the continuing laughter in my headset.

Just over an hour later, my arms were exhausted from fighting the car around the track. Overall, I finished fifty-four laps. When I ran thirty laps without pitting, I averaged 153 mph, and supposedly hit 171 once. I also scraped the car against the wall on that lap. I felt terrible, but the guys told me not to worry. This car was one that fans paid to drive, and it had seen much worse damage. They were impressed that was all the damage I did considering how fast I managed to drive, and that I’d never driven any type of racecar before.