Chapter 1: Summer of 1991
Copyright© 2007 by Fable
Sex Story: Chapter 1: Summer of 1991 - Junior is the continuation of Burr, Dominoes, College and Sophomore. Shirley is out of his life and he's floundering, trying to pick up the pieces. If you haven't read the previous books, do so. If you have you'll be rooting for Sammy to pick up the 'pieces.' Junior covers Sammy's third year at Pontiac College, but first he spends the summer of 1991 in Atlanta where he meets and becomes 'very' involved with new friends.
Although I had been there twice before, I paid more attention to Holly's neighborhood this time because it was going to be my home for the entire summer. The houses were of different style and, while up-scale and well kept, they were built very close together.
The taxi driver carried my one piece of luggage and golf clubs to the breezeway door. I thanked him with a tip and waited until he was out of sight before picking up the flower pot to retrieve the key to the door. It wasn't there. "Shit!"
I turned to see a lady on the other side of the short fence that separated the two lots.
"Holly wanted me to give you this." The glare from the bright sunlight on her bleached blond hair made me almost miss the key she was holding up for me.
"Oh, good," I said as I walked toward her.
"I'm Sandy Santeria." The quiver of her parted lips reminded me of a frightened rabbit as she dropped the key in my hand.
"Thank you, Mrs. Santeria."
"Please, just call me Sandy," she said, as she turned toward her front door.
I stood there, watching her walk away, hoping the short fence would hide my hard-on. Sandy Santeria was in her early forties and all woman. She wore her bleached hair long, her neckline low and her shorts cut very high.
"Call me Sammy," I yelled and watched her smile, timidly as she disappeared into her house. For someone who had to know she was sexy, Mrs. Santeria seemed very uncertain of herself.
It was a quarter past eleven on Saturday morning, the eighth of June, when I let myself into Holly's house. After storing my clubs in the breezeway and my bag in one of the spare bedrooms, I found the controls for the air conditioner, opened the drapes at the rear of the house and went to the kitchen where I was sure a note would be waiting.
Welcome to my home. You couldn't imagine how sorry I am that I can't be here to 'make sure' you have a pleasant stay.
As you know, Beulah comes on Monday and Friday mornings. She will clean on Monday and do laundry on Friday. She doesn't cook so you will be on your own for meals. You'll find a good supply of staples in the kitchen, but you'll need to stock the fridge, breadbox and fruit bowl.
The pool boy comes on Thursday afternoon and the gardener's day is Friday, unless it rains, so you may see him on Saturday. I don't know their names as the company hardly ever sends the same person. The security company lets all the help in, makes sure the house is secure and the back gate is locked.
My neighbor to the East is Mrs. Sandra Santeria and to the West it is a crotchety old gentleman named Smyth. Except for Smyth, everyone knows you're going to be my guest for the summer.
Have fun, Sammy.
P.S. The house is still on the market. Dianna also knows you're going to be here.
I peeked in the refrigerator and discovered that other than a good supply of soft drinks, it was empty. The air conditioner was still working hard to rid the house of stuffiness so I decided to go shopping.
Except for a few extra miles on the odometer and different upholstery, driving Holly's car felt exactly like mine. On the other hand, shopping was completely different from what I was used to in Pontiac. The supermarket was huge and crowded. I found the essentials, fruit, bread, milk, juice, snacks and meat, but forgot to pick up fresh vegetables.
Back at the house, I called home to let Suzanne know I had arrived safely and, after a makeshift lunch of half a cantaloupe, filled with cottage cheese, I lay back on a lounger next to the pool.
There were others to notify that I had arrived in town, Neill, Patti and Cassie. There would be emails to answer from Marcie and possibly Shirley, but for now all I wanted to do was to relax and reflect on the week past.
'No strings, ' meant something entirely different to me than it meant to Tammy. After her shocking me by asking if she could sleep with me on Friday night and agreeing to 'no strings' I fully expected to get up the next morning and deliver her and her luggage to the train station. Not Tammy, she decided to stay another day. This surprised Charlie as much as it did me.
I tried to talk to her while we were having breakfast. "Tammy, I'm going to work this afternoon and I need to study for exams tomorrow. Charlie does too. Isn't your family expecting you to arrive tomorrow?" I asked, hoping she would understand how tight my schedule was.
Tammy's answer was to sit on my lap and whisper in my ear.
"I'll call home and tell them something came up. There's another train tomorrow."
What 'came up' was my cock. Tammy felt it and wiggled her ass to make sure it stayed that way. I smiled apologetically at Charlie, picked her up and carried her back to my bedroom, hating myself for giving in.
"No strings, okay? I asked as I stripped her T-shirt off and reached for her panties.
It was the triumphant smile that crossed her face when she said, "No strings, no regrets," that made me order her to get on her hands and knees. Tammy loved my demands and hurried to comply with them.
Maybe it was the way Shirley had turned on me before she left or maybe not wanting to be alone. It might have been the praise I received from Tammy every time I fucked her. She was just what I needed to temporally take my mind off of Shirley's departure.
Tammy knew my exams were important and was never a distraction. She was obedient, followed orders and was appreciative; what more could one want? She stayed until the following Thursday morning.
As we said goodbye at the train station, I wished her well and she told me for the sixteenth time how much she had enjoyed our few nights together. "You're incredible, Sammy. I've never experienced anything like that before."
I must have fallen asleep on the lounger because the next thing I knew I was awakened by a cloud casting a shadow as it passed overhead. I jumped into the pool to clear my head and was greeted by a gruff voice as I climbed out.
"Who are you?"
I looked around and saw a pair of eyes peering over the fence. "I'm Sammy Oldham, Sir. I'm borrowing the house for the summer. You must be Mr. Smyth."
There was no answer and the eyes disappeared. I shook my head and went inside, wondering if he had to stand on something to look over the fence.
After living in a small apartment with three others for the past nine months, it was a welcome change to be on my own in a luxurious house. I took advantage of the solitude to relax and waited until the next afternoon to answer email and let Neill and Patti know I would be at work in the morning.
A few minutes after I talked to Neill, the phone rang. Cassie greeted me sounding excited. She wanted to tell me about her summer soccer season. She was playing with the big girls and the schedule sounded grueling; they played three or four games each week and practiced on off days. I promised to come to at least one game each week and she said she would send me a copy of the schedule. "Put it on your refrigerator so you don't forget," she said.
There were two upbeat emails from Marcie, one from Brenda, but nothing from Shirley. She hadn't exactly promised to keep in touch. I reminded myself to face the facts; we really were over.
The next morning I forgot how early construction people get started in the morning and arrived a few minutes late. "Just for that you have to stay late," Patti kidded me. It was good to see her in high spirits. She briefed me on the progress; the steel was in place and concrete was being poured.
Neill showed me around the site and we went over the construction schedule. "We'll be closing in the sides soon and then the fun begins," he said.
The best part about starting early is that you get off early too. I went back to Holly's house and sent an email to the home office, advising Mr. Oldham, Tom, Donna and Wanda what I had witnessed that day. Within minutes Wanda sent a reply, asking that I get a handle on expenses. She complained that the Atlanta office was dragging its feet.
My job, as it evolved, was that of a glorified errand boy. Nine out of ten emails I received were requests for follow-up on something that should have taken place a week before. The tenth message was usually from Mr. Oldham, praising me for a job well done. I reported for work early, stayed late, acted as a go-between and tried to please everyone.
The only drawback to my summer was living alone. I hated cooking for myself. On nights when I attended Cassie's soccer matches there was an open invitation to dine with the Fenton family. Otherwise, I usually stopped at a small family restaurant for my evening meal. Then I would go the house, check my email, run, jump in the pool, and go to bed early.
Attending Cassie's soccer game was my only amusement for the first week. She introduced me to her teammates, which was a real treat. They were very athletic, some were kind of plain, but most were real babes. For a thirteen-year-old, Cassie was very perceptive. She pointed out which ones had boyfriends, which ones liked other girls and which ones liked both boys and girls.
"Ginger asked me if you are my boyfriend," Cassie whispered one night after a match. Neill and Doris were in the front, Claudia never came with us so Cassie and I had the backseat to ourselves.
"Which one is Ginger?" I asked in a normal voice, seeing no reason to whisper.
"Aren't you going to ask what I said?" she asked, not trying to hide her angst from her parents or me.
"What did you say?"
"I told her you're twenty, way too old for me. Ginger has short dark hair."
"They all have short dark hair." This was far from true. Many of the girls were blond and wore their hair in a ponytail while on the soccer field.
"Ginger has really short hair. It's cut like a boy. She usually plays center midfield."
"Really short and plays center midfield. Now I know which one she is. Why would she think I'm your boyfriend?"
My question got Doris's attention. She turned in her seat and I felt her eyes on me as I waited for her daughter's answer. Cassie's eyes darted to her mother before hesitantly answering my question.
"I think she likes you," she said, making her mother smile and turn toward the front of the car.
"Oh," I said, wanting to drop the subject. If I wasn't mistaken, Ginger was one of the girls who Cassie had described as liking both boys and girls.
Seeing Doris's reaction to the mere suggestion that I could be her daughter's boyfriend made me decide to squelch that idea. I spoke loud enough for her parents to hear me explain to Cassie that I had just ended a relationship and had no plans to even date anyone new. "Besides, I'm no longer a teenager. Ginger's only seventeen, isn't she?"
Neill spoke up; hinting that he had seen sparks between Patti and me. I attempted to dispel that assertion, claiming Patti and I needed to concentrate on our jobs, that it was too soon to become involved and that I was only here for the summer. While weak, my reasons for not hooking up with Patti were met with approval from Doris. She chided her husband for sticking his nose where it didn't belong.
"Will you run with me on Saturday?" Cassie asked.
"Sure, what time?" I agreed, relieved that we were changing the subject. I was no longer Neill's errand boy, I was Mr. Oldham's errand boy this summer, but we worked together and I didn't want Cassie's parents to think I had designs on their daughter. They had enough to worry about with their older daughter. Claudia was eighteen and trying desperately to prove that she was an adult, while only succeeding in irritating her parents.
I should have known there was more to it. Cassie could have found a running partner among her teammates. In fact, she did. "I just happened to mention we would be running this morning," Cassie confessed when we saw almost all her teammates, the ones that liked boys and the ones that liked both sexes, stretching in preparation to join us.
"Don't you have practice later today?" I asked.
"Not until three o'clock," Cassie answered.
The girls ran three or four abreast with Cassie and me bringing up the rear. After twenty yards she peeled off and I was joined by one of the pony-tailed blonds. I soon saw a pattern; the blond asked three questions, mainly about college, and fell back to be replaced by another ponytail, who asked three questions. I had to listen closely because all the girls had Georgia accents, which I found charming, but some of the words they used were difficult to understand.
The track was one mile long and it took three laps for all members of the team to ask the three question limit. When it became Ginger's turn her first question was about college life and then she plowed into new territory. "Do you think my hair is too short for blowjobs?"
She was so serious that I didn't dare laugh. "I think your hair is just right. I like short hair," I said, wondering if that was the answer she wanted to hear. It was.
"Some guys want to pull your hair. I don't like to have my hair pulled and that's the reason I cut it short; not because it makes me look like a boy."
"You don't look like a boy. I thought it was because you play soccer and long hair can slow a soccer player down."
"I just wanted you to know why I wear it short."
"Come on, Gin, that's four questions," we heard from another ponytail, who was trying to crowd Ginger out of the way. Ginger fell back and I answered two more college questions before the third question took me by surprise.
"Was she giving you that crap about why she has her hair cut short?"
"I didn't think it was crap. It sounded reasonable to me."
Ponytail scoffed, "She doesn't do blowjobs. Ask my brother. He'll tell you she doesn't put out, either."
After all the girls had had their turn we ran another lap, just to lend credence to the morning workout. Cassie joined me.
"Are you angry at me?"
"No, why should I be?"
"I had to arrange it. They ganged up on me. I'm still the kid here. You understand, don't you?"
I laughed and put my hand on her shoulder for a second. "I understand. Would you like me to say something to them to show that we're just buddies?"
"NO! Don't say anything."
Cassie slowed down until we were ten yards in back of the pack. "You could put your arm around me or something. They think you're my boyfriend."
I was dumbfounded. "I thought you told Ginger that I was way too old to be your boyfriend."
Now it was Cassie's turn to scoff. "That was so my mom won't get worried. I may have told some of the girls ... well ... I'm just trying to fit in ... does that ... are you angry with me?"
I didn't know what to say. While I knew I needed to assure her that I wasn't angry I was concerned that her boasting would get back to Neill and Doris. "I'll help you convince the other girls, but you're going to have to level with your mom. Tell her we're just buddies and you're trying to impress the older girls. She'll understand."
"Do you think so, Sammy?"
"It's the truth, isn't it?"
She looked up at me and back at the track several times before saying, "Yes, it's the truth."
"Promise to tell your mom what we're up to?"
"Yes," she reluctantly agreed.
"Okay, I'll do my part," I said and I may have played my part a little too convincingly. While we were stretching the discussion was mainly whether to shower now or wait until after the afternoon practice. I was planning to go home, shower, jump in the pool and then find something to eat.
"I'll phone you later, Cass," I said, loud enough for her teammates to hear me.
She came to me, a big grin on her face.
"Thanks for calling me Cass," she whispered.
I put my hand on her back and pulled her closer. "You're welcome," I whispered, smiling.
Cassie's next action startled me. She stood on tiptoes and kissed me on the lips. I recovered quickly and holding her by the shoulders, bent down to place my cheek next to hers. "Make sure your mom knows what we're doing before she hears about this from someone else," I whispered, giving her a quick hug and looking to see if her teammates were paying attention. They were.
"I will," she said, pulling away, still smiling.
As I drove to Holly's house, I hoped that Cassie didn't really expect me to telephone her later. Perhaps I should call just to make sure Doris was up to speed with our ruse.
But I didn't get a change to talk to Cassie until the next day. My neighbor to the East called as soon as I entered the house.
"This is Sandy, next door. Will you join us for lunch, Sammy?"
I showered, hopped the short fence and dined with Sandy and her daughter on the patio. The daughter, Cathy, who was visiting her mother, excused herself twice during lunch to attend to her baby, a girl not yet six months old. During her absence, Sandy explained to me that Cathy was a widow, her husband having been killed in Iraq. "My granddaughter was only a month old when Harry was killed."
I didn't know what to say. I wasn't accustomed to hearing about death this close to home. I was relieved when Cathy rejoined us.
"I was just telling Sammy about Harry," Sandy said to her daughter. I smiled at Cathy, still not certain if I should comment. She grimaced and excused herself again.
"I was wondering if you would mind if Cathy uses your pool, Holly's pool. She's having trouble losing weight after giving birth and the exercise would do her good."
"Sure, just tell me when she would like to come over. I'll leave the gate unlocked."
"Could you ... would you mind being there to keep her company? I'll have to stay here to watch the baby."
"I'll be glad to ... do you think she'll want to talk or..."
"I don't know. Just be there, please?"
Cathy came back to the table and we arranged for her to use the pool that evening, after dark. "I hope this won't spoil your plans," she said, sounding and looking like a frightened rabbit, reminding me of the first day I met her mother.
I laughed and assured her that I didn't have plans. I thanked Sandy for inviting me to have lunch with them and left, wondering about two things; why it was important that I 'be there' when Cathy was in the pool and why she wanted to use the pool after dark.
As it happened I got busy with correspondence and forgot to unlock the gate, forcing Cathy to ring the doorbell. She came inside the house wearing a white, one-piece swimsuit and carrying two towels, tucked to her belly like she was trying to smuggle something into the house. Her hair, long and bleached like her mother's, was tucked inside what looked like a shower cap. I escorted her to the back door and told her I would be right out after I changed into swimwear.
"You don't have to watch me. I'm not suicidal," she practically spat at me.
"I haven't been in the pool all day and I like to swim," I said, trying to assure her that it was no trouble for me to 'be there' as her mother had requested.
She shrugged, as if to accept my explanation. By the time I changed and got outside she was in the pool with water up to her neck. As I approached she put up one hand to hold me at bay.
I took a seat on the diving board and watched her paddle around in one spot, never venturing to the shallow or deep end of the pool. After minutes of silence she finally spoke.
"You're probably wondering why I'm so self conscious?"
"Your mom told me you're having trouble getting back down to fighting weight."
"She thinks it's because of the baby, but that's not it. I let myself go after the 'Bay of Pigs.'"
"Bay of Pigs?" What was she talking about? "The Bay of Pigs was nearly thirty years ago."
Cathy had stopped moving in the water. "My husband was killed on February the twenty-third, the first day of the liberation of Kuwait. I lost my husband so I can call it anything I want." She sounded decisive, but from the 'scared rabbit look' I wondered if she was going to cry.
I needed to say something, but what? "You have earned the right to call it anything you want."
"I can let myself go too if I want," she said, defiance masking the frightened rabbit look. She was beginning to move again.
I nodded my agreement, which was a mistake because that's not what she wanted at all. She began to cry and I jumped off the diving board into the water, stupidly, as if to rescue her.
"Don't come near me," she screamed, holding up one arm to ward me off.
I swam to the side of the pool and took my place there, keeping my distance.
"I'm fat," she declared.
"No, you're not, but if you want to lose weight swimming is good exercise," I said, trying to sound reassuring.
"I'm only going to be here one week," she lamented.
"You're welcome to use the pool as much as you want."
"Thanks. I don't have a pool at home." At least she wasn't crying.
"I run. Running or jogging is good exercise too," I offered.
She silently watched me, I presume, to make sure I was keeping my distance. After a few minutes she forced an admission. "It's my tummy."
"Ah! Crunches are good for reducing your waistline."
I grabbed the side of the pool and demonstrated the crunch while explaining the purpose and benefit of the exercise. "It's easy in water. Try it," I suggested.
I counted the reps as she raised her bent knees out of the water until she had done twenty crunches. "That's enough for tonight. We'll do twenty-five tomorrow, ' I said.
She wanted me to turn my back when she got out of the pool. I obliged her, saying I would unlock the gate. I didn't mention the eyes peering over the fence on the West to Cathy. Actually, it was ironic; I couldn't watch her get out of the pool, but Smyth could.
"I'm sorry your husband died," I said to her as she walked through the open gate. She was holding the two towels in front of her.
"Thank you, Sammy. Goodnight."
I locked the gate and went inside. It was too late to call Cassie and it would be the next day before I got a chance to speak to Doris. She was cautiously amused, displeased with her daughter for misleading her teammates while kidding me for robbing the cradle. I was relieved that she took our little prank so well. After all, I worked with her husband and I wanted him to think well of me.
Cassie sounded subdued, like it had been hard to confess what she had done. "Hey, when I get to be thirty you'll be twenty-three," I said, trying to cheer her up.
"You'll be married when you're thirty."
"You may be married when you're twenty-three," I countered and almost heard the wheels turning in her head.
"It could happen, couldn't it?"
"Don't tell anyone about our engagement yet."
She laughed and told me not to worry. "I'm not telling my mother anything, ever again."
"How was your practice yesterday?" I asked, really wanting to know if the other girls believed our little deception.
"We sold it; they're all envious of me."
We ended the call, both laughing. I couldn't wait to talk to Marcie.
"You're sounding chipper this morning," Marcie mused. "Did you hear from Shirley?"
Being reminded of Shirley set me back. "No, did you hear from her by any chance?"
Marcie must have heard the emotion in my voice. "No, I haven't heard from her either. Tell me what's going on in Atlanta."
First, I told her what Cassie and I had pulled off, even making the kiss on the lips sound necessary. While Marcie was amused, she warned me not to lead the young girl on. I told her not to worry, that Cassie was cool and we moved on to my next door neighbor's daughter. This, she could really get into.
"It's too bad she's only going to be there a week. That doesn't give you much time to work your magic."
"What do you mean by my magic?"
"Saving fat girls is your specialty. Look what a good job you did with me."
I was tired of hearing her border on self-pity and rather than come right out and tell her I turned on her. "I did do a good job with you, didn't I? I turned you from a belligerent bitch to the sweetest girl I know."
"Yes, but I was young and impressionable and you had plenty of time with me. I wish you luck with Cathy. I do have one suggestion."
"What's that?" I asked, relieved that she hadn't responded to my referring to her as a belligerent bitch. I was already sorry for saying such a thing.
"Diddle her. That's part of your magic."
"How can I do that if she won't let me get close to her?"
"Repeat after me, I can do it; I'm special."
"You always make me laugh."
"Say it, I can do it; I'm special."
"I can do it; I'm special," I said, reluctantly obliging her.
"I want to know how you do it. Email me every night."
"I'm so fucking lucky to have you to talk to. Thanks for everything, sweetie."
"I'm fucking lucky too," she said as we ended the call.
I now had a challenge. As Marcie had said, it was too bad that Cathy's visit was so short. I would have to work fast.
Holly called to make sure everything was to my liking. Actually, I believe she had other reasons for calling. "Have you seen Dianna?"
"No, but I'm not here very much. I haven't seen the maid or the other two guys either."
"Have you met that creep on the West?"
"I saw him spying on me and spoke to him, but he didn't answer."
Holly laughed. "I used to sunbathe topless and I suspect there's cum splattered all over his side of the fence."
I told her about meeting Sandy. "Her daughter is here for a week. Cathy's husband was killed in Iraq and she has a new baby."
Holly remembered the daughter and was sorry to hear of her loss. She told me to tell Sandy that she had called and promised to call again.
That evening Cathy came through the gate, again clutching the two towels to hide her stomach. Her hair was hanging loose and although it was dark, I could see that she was wearing a two piece swimsuit. Just before jumping into the pool she glanced at me and tossed the two towels on a nearby chair.
I took my place on the diving board and waited for her to say something.
"Are you a good person, Sammy?"
"I try to be good; sometimes I'm not."
"There are only two kinds of people, good or evil. Which are you?"
"I don't know."
"Do you have a girlfriend?"
"No," I answered without elaborating.
"Do you like girls?"
"I'm partial to them."
"In case you're wondering why I seemed ... standoffish last night I promised myself that I won't let another man touch me for at least a year after Harry died. I may never let a man touch me again, but I would like to get rid of this paunch just in case I change my mind. It was nice of you to help."
"Does your tummy feel the effects of the crunches?"
"Yes, how did you know?"
"That shows its working. You need to swim twenty laps and then do twenty-five crunches tonight."
I remained on the diving board and talked her through twenty-five crunches, encouraging her to hold her tummy in longer, until it hurt.
Cathy didn't try to hide when she got out of the pool, to the delight of Mr. Smyth, I'm sure. She was smiling when she left.
I immediately reported our progress in an email to Marcie.
There is still no word from Shirley and this is the last you will hear about her from me until there is.
Tonight, Cathy showed up in a two piece swimsuit and didn't try to hide her body from me and Mr. Smyth as she jumped into the pool. (She doesn't know Smyth is watching.)
She loosened up a bit and I thought we were making great strides until she said she isn't going to let another man touch her until at least a year after her husband's death.
She complained that it is hard to hold onto the side of the pool while doing crunches. I suggested that with a little support under her back she could let go. She looked at me, blankly and then closed her eyes, like she was considering my suggestion. I snuck a peek at Smyth's eyes and saw that he was nodding his agreement with me.
Another encouraging thing happened. She got out of the pool, dried off and left with both towels draped over her shoulders. As I let her out the gate I considered telling her I didn't see what all the fuss is about. Her paunch isn't all that noticeable. At the last second I reconsidered and kept quiet.
That's all for tonight.
Love ya sweetheart,