After Joan graduated from high school she went away to college. Not just away as in Hartford, New Haven or Boston, she went all the way away to Lawrence, Kansas. We were all amazed that she had accepted a scholarship that far away. Ok, we were amazed that she'd been offered a scholarship in the first place, but to the University of Kansas? Joan had applied to as many schools as she could, hoping to be accepted at one with a good financial aid package. She had hurt her chances by being in an all girls Catholic high school, but her grades had been good and she had an excellent recommendation from a nun at the school whose brother just happened to be an alumni and benefactor at KU. In 1961, who you knew was still very important, and Joan was offered a partial scholarship and a part time job at the university. All of that, taken together, would just barely allow her to get by financially if she was frugal. My parents were dead set against her going, both because of the distance from home, and because she would be beyond their reach if she decided to spread her wings and soar. My mother hadn't forgotten Joan's streak of rebelliousness when she was a sophomore in high school. In the end, it was decided that it would be unfair to deny her the opportunity of a college education. She promised to study hard, attend mass regularly, and to faithfully avoid the temptations of the boys she'd inevitably be meeting in college.
Joan confided to Ellen that she had met a guy on the train trip out to Kansas and had surrendered her virginity to him in the Pullman berth my grandfather had arranged for her through one of his fellow conductor's. Joan had a great time during her two years being away at school. If she didn't particularly distinguish herself academically, she was certainly well liked and popular on campus. At the end of her sophomore year Joan was placed on academic probation and lost her scholarship. She told me that she had enjoyed herself for the whole two years she was away, but that she knew it was time to come home and begin her adulthood. She swore to all who would listen that her party days were behind her and she just wanted to meet a nice boy and get married and settle down.
Joan had always been extremely pretty, and she had a body that had been turning heads since she was twelve. She had chestnut brown hair and was wearing it down past her shoulders when she came back home. She still had a large bosom, thin waist and full hips. Her dark brown eyes were set back and her lashes were long and striking. She had somehow picked up a lot about make up and how to dress while she was away, and she knew how to make the most of her natural assets, and how to conceal any defects through make up and misdirection. She certainly wasn't shy or reticent around boys and men after she got back either.
In the summer of 1963, Joan started her campaign to attract the attention of a particular young man from a noted, highly distinguished, and exceptionally wealthy local family. Bartholomew Deveroux Poynton, "Beadie" to his friends, was a twenty three year old recent graduate of Yale University. His father, grandfather and great-grandfather before him had all graduated from Yale in their time and had come back to Connecticut to practice law or to run the many family business interests. Each had spent one year abroad between their sophomore and junior years, making future business contacts, and sowing their wild oats. It was pretty well accepted in our little part of the world that the Poynton family was Main Line, top of the heap. You could aspire to no greater heights than to be able to say that you had dated a Poynton if you were a young lady residing in southeast Connecticut. Of course, the Poynton men always married into other Main Line families, from places like New York, Boston, Philadelphia and Richmond. In more than one hundred years, no Connecticut woman had met the nearly impossibly high standard for marriage that the Poynton's had set. For a poor girl coming from a family noted for their violence and lower class habits and values, even meeting a Poynton in a social situation, was considered to be beyond the pale.
Joan didn't think of herself as being a poor girl, and most assuredly didn't believe that who or what her family was should control the limits of her ambitions. She knew that she was very pretty and she knew that she had the figure that attracted first, second and third looks from all men who found women attractive. In her mind, unless "Beadie" was a queer, she'd get his undivided attention. Rumors around the area had it that "Beadie" was not only decidedly heterosexual, but was something of a womanizer, and that it had his parents very concerned. Supposedly, earlier in the year, a young woman of fine family over in Providence had suddenly decided to visit California for a six weeks stay after having been his steady escort during the four months preceeding her unscheduled trip west. That same source of rumors contended that a considerable sum of money had changed hands between the Poynton's and the girl's family.
I first learned from Ellen that Joan had set her sights on young B. D. Poynton. We were enjoying a late snack together, snuggled up on the couch. She was sitting between my legs and had her foot folded up in her lap, she was a little more flexible in those days, and I was massaging her foot with my one hand and eating the egg sandwich she had fixed for me with the other. We took turns sipping from a bottle of birch soda.
"I'm worried about Joanie, Jackie. She's getting ready to do something that I think is very dangerous." I waited for her to continue, pressing my thumb into the soft padded area at the top underside side of her foot and bending her toes while I chewed down the remainder of my sandwich. "That's good, what you're doing there, with your thumb, but quit bending my toes, that hurts." I had finished my sandwich by then and took the bottle from her hand and washed everything down with the soda before handing the near empty bottle back to her. "Don't you even want to know what Joanie's planning?" I started kissing the back of her neck then, reaching my other hand around her and cupping a breast to give me more leverage for the foot massage. Her nipple hardened beneath my touch and she leaned her back into me more and tried to push her butt closer to me. I started blowing in the hollow of her neck and kissing and nibbling right behind her ear. "Jackie, if you keep doing stuff like that, I'm going to forget what I'm talking to you about." I quit massaging her foot and began massaging up high on her thigh, slowly moving upwards in what we both knew would end in a full scale frontal assault on her pussy. "Dammit Jackie, this is important. Don't get me worked up before I get to tell you about your sister!" I let go of her aroused breast and moved that hand down towards her center, deciding that a pincer movement was called for if I was going to be successful in achieving my goal. "Ok, Jackie, if you don't care, I don't care. Just go right ahead and do what you want." I quickly lifted her up, and, with her in my arms, got up from the couch and carried her into our bedroom. That wasn't as easy to do as I made it sound, but there's something about a man being physically strong and forceful that turns a certain type of woman on. Luckily for me, Ellen has always responded well to the caveman touch.
I kissed her all the way into the bedroom and dropped her softly onto the bed. I opened my robe and was wearing nothing underneath it. As soon as she noticed how ready I was, she started peeling out of her pj's. I've always liked giving face to a girl and Ellen had always been a willing and grateful recipient of same. She had a taste like nectar, fish nectar, but sweet too. Once her juices started flowing fully, every part of her, near or between her legs got very sensitive and receptive to touch or tongue. She built up to things a little slowly, but when she got up to speed, she was like a runaway train, totally out of control and liable to jump the tracks. It was good for both of us. I got to work off the calories from our little snack and she got a pretty good workout as well. Her hair was wet and curly by the time we were through, as was mine. We rolled over and lay side by side, catching our breath and coming back down to earth. I had recently quit smoking again, and I really missed that after sex smoke. The first one in the morning, the one right after a meal, and lighting up just after sex. Those were the times I missed smoking the most.
"So, you were saying about Joan, something about dangerous?"
"Let's just go to sleep baby. I'm too tired from all the nick nick. I'll tell you in the morning. I love you." Another thing about Ellen, when she got tired and sleepy you could just forget about anything else, she was done. I knew better than to try to get the information out of her, so we just spooned together and dropped right off to sleep.
It was the next morning and Ellen was filling me in on the ridiculous plan that Joan had confided to her. "So, Joanie thinks that she can actually get this guy interested in her enough that he'll forget all about two centuries of family tradition and just fall in love with her and they'll marry and live happily ever after."
"Ellen, isn't that the American way? Boy meets girl, they fall in love, get married and live happily ever after. That's what we did, what our parents did, what's dangerous about that?"
"He's a Poynton, that's what's dangerous. Poynton's don't mix with people like Joanie and I. They do it with the DuPonts, the Rockefellers and the Lodge's. Even the Kennedy's aren't good enough for them, so how does Joanie stand a chance of getting anything other than a huge disappointment?"
"Jesus, baby, have you taken a good look at Joan lately? If Poynton has a dick, Joan's in with a good chance. I've seen lot's of those rich girls when I worked over at the Griswold. I never saw a one that could hold a candle to Joan as far as looks are concerned. I say if that's what she wants, let her take her best shot. All he can do is tell her no, not interested." Ellen gave me that little smile of hers then. The one that says: 'hah, I've trapped you again you stupid bastard!' I felt myself regretting whatever might be coming. You'd have thought, after so many times with her tricking me like that, I'd have gotten wise to her shenanigans and plots and been able to avoid one once in a while. I sighed in resignation. "So what have you two got planned? Can't you please leave me out of whatever it is?"
"We need $3,000.00, Joanie has to come live with us for a little time, and you have to help her move around and get into some places. Oh, and you can't breath a word of any of this to your parents. That's all."
"First, there's no way in hell I'm turning loose with any $3,000.00 for anybody. Do you have any inkling how much work needs to be done for me to have $3,000.00? A shit load, that's how much! And for what? So Joan can try to get her meat hooks into some rich guy? Thanks, but no thanks."
"But it's Ok about all the rest, her living here, you taking her places, and you saying nothing to your folks?"
"No, none of it is Ok! I won't have anything to do with any of it. In fact, I've got a good mind to call my mom and dad right now and tell them what you two are up to."
"So, you really don't believe Joan's good enough for the Poynton's, Jackie? Maybe you want her to go hang around the bars in Groton and New London and try to snag herself some Navy guy, a fisherman, or a fitter from out at the Electric Boat? Is that what you want? Joan wants to take a shot at this guy. Is that $3,000.00 worth more to you than Joan's happiness? One of the things I've always admired about you Jackie, is that you'll do anything for your family. When did that end?"
"It isn't just the money. If she needed it for an operation or for an iron lung or something, then I'd give it to her. This is different. I don't even approve of what you two are trying to pull off. It's like she's going hunting for this poor bastard. Like if he was a lion or a rhino and she was on a safari. You don't do that to people, hunt them and trap them like animals. Plus, Joan only has one thing she can use for bait. I don't think mom would approve of her usung that."
"Oh really, Jackie? What do you think she used, or my mother used, or I used? Sometimes I wonder how you men rationalize your stupid belief that men are superior to women. We've been leading you around by your dicks ever since Eve pulled off those two fig leaves and smiled at Adam. You still don't understand the process."
I should have just gone out and gotten into my Impala and left. If I had gone down to the car dealer's and traded up for that sweet looking '63 T-Bird convertible I'd been looking at for the past 10 months, I'd have at least gotten something I really wanted for the money, and still would have had almost half my three grand left after my trade in allowance. Instead, I decided to stand my ground and counter her with logical, well thought out and articulated arguments. The kind that blew large holes in Joan's ridiculous plans that Ellen had so thoroughly embraced.
We went at it for the better part of the morning, me telling her all the reasons why it wouldn't work out the way she wanted it to, and her asking me when I stopped caring about her feelings and my sister's feelings as well. She wore me down because I got hungry and a little bit horny too. There's something sexy about a woman engaging in a debate and not even trying to bring rational thought to her arguments. When she told me that it had to work because both she and Joan would be designing and sewing all Joan's outfits, I just gave up. I had been saving my money, trying to build up a nest egg that I could leave for Ellen when I died. I knew there wouldn't be any children from our marriage, but I wanted Ellen to be able live well after I was gone. When she said that thing about designing the clothes, I knew that no amount of money would be enough to protect her from herself, and so I just caved in and gave her everything she wanted.
As soon as I finished eating my two sandwiches, I immediately got the most exquisite blow job that she had ever given me, as my reward for caving in to her. It took a long time and she was so nasty in the way she teased me and acted while she was bent over me. She said things to me that made me blush and brought me so erect that it was painful. I almost came twenty times before she finally allowed me to. I was shaking all over when I left, my legs felt like they wouldn't hold me up when I walked out to my car to head down to the bank. The most humiliating thing about this total defeat was that I found myself, as I was driving down to take out the money, hoping that the three grand wouldn't be enough and she'd have to come back to me and try to talk me out of more. She must have sucked out all my brains when she drained me of cum.
I had to go over and move Joan and her things over to our house later that afternoon. My mother couldn't understand why Joan wanted to leave her own bedroom just to come over to our house, but she relented after Joan told her that it was time that mom and dad had a little more privacy in their marriage. She told mom that the sounds coming from their bedroom were causing her to have impure thoughts. Mom blushed and mumbled something about the walls being too thin. Once Joan got everything put away, she and Ellen began plotting their campaign. I was left totally out of their planning sessions, for which I was appropriately grateful. They did have me running and fetching things that they didn't have on hand when they assembled their war room, Ellen claiming it was one of the things I'd agreed to do during our debate.
The two of them, Joan and Ellen, began a campaign as detailed and well researched as that of the Allied forces planning for the D-Day landings. By the end of summer they had read every mention of "Beadie" Poynton, or his family, that had appeared in any newspaper anywhere along the Eastern Seaboard at anytime in the last decade. They had made several visits up to New Haven, to the Campus at Yale and to the the restaurants and clubs surrounding the campus, speaking with waitresses and barmaids, trying to gain any useful tidbits of information that they might be able to use. They had several large maps hanging on the walls, showing all the Poynton owned properties and businesses controlled or owned outright by the family. They drove alone over to Providence, Rhode Island and spent two days talking to people and finding out everything known and available about the young lady who'd reportedly been made pregnant and then bought off by "Beadie" and his family.
B. D. was an only child of two other only children. His mother had a pedigree going back to the Dutch who settled in and around New Amsterdam. Her father had passed away in 1962, and his considerable estate was still being probated. The big bulk of the estate consisted of large tracts of land in New York, Pennsylvania and New Jersey. Her mother had died several years previously. Estimates of the worth of her father's estate, after death taxes, was in the forty to fifty million dollar range. B.D.'s father was worth probably three times as much as his late father in law had been. With various trusts from his grandparents on both sides, B.D.'s personal net worth was probably already in the neighborhood of ten million dollars.
B.D.'s family were all avid sailor's, and kept an eighty foot sailing sloop in Newport. They had a farm in Virginia where they raised horses, not for racing, but for polo and dressage. Their jumpers were well thought of all along the Tidewater. They had divested themselves of their textile plants many years before, and were into banking, real estate and construction. There had never been a hint of financial scandal in the Poynton family, although it was widely rumored that B.D.'s grandfather had sold equities short beginning immediately before October, 1929, and had only begun covering his open positions late in 1933. There was almost no turnover in the personal staff at the three main Poynton residences, but Ellen had spoken on the telephone to a woman who had worked at their large brownstone in Manhattan for three years before being dismissed. The woman had given much information, volunteering it freely. Ellen decided, after being unable to find any shred of corroboration, that it was probably character assassination from a disgruntled former employee. She kept the information anyway, just in case she ran into corroboration at a later time.
By late September Joan was ready to make her first foray into the Poynton's world. I drove her down to Virginia to attend a horse auction that B.D. had usually shown up for in the past. I stayed away from Joan at the auction, letting her circulate among the horsey set, seeing as well as being seen. Joan attracted plenty of attention from the crowd of polo fans and horse fanciers, but old B.D. didn't rise to the bait. He had to have noticed her though, at least once out of the ten or twelve times she had occasion to stroll right past him. After the auction concluded, we drove straight back home. I was determined that Ellen and Joan could handle the next human safari by themselves. I needed to get back working if I was ever going to replace that money I'd foolishly let Ellen talk me into donating to their hopeless quest.
There was an important opening at a large art gallery in New York in November. The artist who was being featured at the opening was a college friend of B.D.'s and the Poynton's were being listed as patron's of his work. Ellen thought it was definitely worth attempting to get in there for the opening night. The problem was that it was by invitation only, and they had no invitation, and no clue as to how they'd get one. I called my grandfather up in New Haven and explained the problem. He, being a conductor on a commuter railroad between New York City and Connecticut, took the tickets of many big shots on Wall Street when they rode the train between work and home. He had done well for himself in the market on things he'd heard mentioned in the bar car of the commuter train through the years. Uncharacteristically, for him at least, he was able to come through with an invitation for two people. He probably traded three or four little bottles of booze that they sold on the railroad from the dining cars.