Chapter 1: Megan
Background — According to Debra
Sammy Oldham asked me to start this off, because I was the first to hear how he and my friend, Megan Freeman spent the night of her graduation from Pontiac college.
I'm Debra Simmons Evans. My husband is Charles Evans, Junior, and we were expecting our first child any day now.
I never knew Sammy very well until the beginning of our senior year at Pontiac College. I had heard stories about him since he was a freshman at Cromwell Military Academy, and I was a freshman at Forester Woman's Preparatory School. Forester is the sister school to Dearborn Military Academy, and the D.M.A. football team played C.M.A. two times each year.
It was rumored that Sammy had a crush on me from the first time he saw me. I think we danced together after the second game that year, and then I didn't see him again until we were juniors. I couldn't believe the changes in him. He was taller than I remembered, and he was a starting linebacker on the C.M.A. defensive team. He hardly looked at me at the post-game dances. I heard through the grapevine that he had a girlfriend who was a senior at Speedwell School for Girls.
Charlie and I are from the same home town, but we didn't know each other until we met at a party, and I learned that he went to C.M.A. Out of curiosity; I asked if he knew Sammy Oldham. Charlie said that he not only knew Sammy, they had been roommates when they were freshmen. He offered to bring Sammy home with him for a weekend if I would like to meet him. I was mildly interested, and told Charlie that I would go to a party with them if I were free.
I don't remember what happened, but we didn't go to the same party. I did, however, see a remarkable change in Charlie after that weekend. He was more confident, and he looked you in the eye when he talked to you. It was years later that I learned that they had gone home with a couple of girls, and Charlie had lost his virginity. Sammy came home with Charlie one more weekend that year. Charlie's dad made him go camping, and that left Sammy alone with Mrs. Evans for two nights.
I always suspected that something had happened, but Charlie was extremely closed mouth about that weekend. It wasn't until Sheila made two trips to Pontiac when they were juniors, that I learned the visits were to have sex with Sammy. Charlie was broken up to think that his mother would fuck his best friend. By that time, we were lovers, and I got him to see things through their eyes. Sheila was remarried, and if Charlie's stepfather condoned the trips, why should Charlie take exception to his mother screwing his friend. I argued that Sammy was not to blame. It was better that she worked out her sexual frustrations with someone she knew, than to pick up a stranger in a bar. Apparently Cyril, her husband, couldn't satisfy her. Charlie eventually came to terms with his mother's needs, and he forgave his friend.
That was about the time that Charlie suggested that I transfer to Pontiac College for my senior year. At first, it was just a suggestion. I told him it would be impossible. My parents would never approve. Besides, I couldn't think of leaving my roommate and best friend alone. Megan Freeman's boyfriend was graduating. Charlie said that Megan could transfer, too. "We'll get a house together," he said.
I'll have to admit that it sounded tempting. I began working on my parents and Megan. My parents said definitely not, and Megan wasn't keen on the idea either.
Charlie wouldn't give up. What finally convinced me that I had to come to Pontiac was Charlie's confession that he had been sleeping with a girl from the town. I knew that I had to protect my interests. I begged my parents to let me transfer, and they relented. I had to tell Megan about Charlie's admission that he had been sleeping with someone to make her agree that I had to transfer. She decided to apply at the same time.
I didn't find out until later, but Sammy had already stolen the girl from Charlie. That's when I began to believe the stories I'd heard about Sammy. He'd gotten Charlie laid for the first time, he'd seduced Sheila, and he'd taken some native slut away from my boyfriend. I know now that I should have warned Megan about him. She had a boyfriend, and she and Mel had tentative plans to marry as soon as Megan graduated. Sammy was in a similar situation with Kelley Harvey. Warning Megan wouldn't have done any good anyway. It was instant infatuation from the first moment they laid eyes on each another.
Transferring to Pontiac was a mistake for both of us. Had I known that Charlie was going to knock me up the first week of classes, I would have never agreed to come. It was the same for Megan. Mel broke up with her, and she leaned on Sammy for support. They told us that they weren't having sex, but we all suspected that they were. It was just too evident by the way they were together. She stayed at his apartment two nights each week, and she stayed in his hotel room the night of our marriage. When he broke up with Kelley, Megan blamed herself, and they went their separate ways. She started relying on Chase for support, and Sammy made frequent trips to Florida. He said it was because his parents were building a house there, but we all knew it was to be with a girl he had met.
After all the trouble I'd gone to, I didn't graduate with the class. My parents insisted that I come home where I could receive better care. Charlie wasn't in favor of me going home, but he knew that I wasn't attending class half the time, and he agreed that I should get the best care available. I hated deserting Charlie, and I hated leaving Megan too. We cried the night before I was to leave, vowing to talk on the phone as often as possible.
I didn't get to go to the graduation. Cyril and Sheila drove to Pontiac, attended the ceremony, and helped Charlie bring our stuff home. They arrived at ten PM on Sunday, the first of June. Charlie said Megan's flight home was the next morning. Chase was delaying his trip home in order to take her to the airport.
That brings you up to date. As you can see, in the eight years I've known of Sammy Oldham it has always been through hearsay. Until this year, I'd formed my opinions about Sammy based on what others had said, and I must admit that my opinion of him was not good. Now, after attending his Friday night parties, and hearing my husband and best friend praise him, I've decided that I was wrong about Samuel K. Oldham.
Sammy Oldham is loyal to his friends, but you don't want to get on his bad side. I never thought he especially liked me. He endured me because I was his friend's wife. I think that is one reason he asked me to record this particular period in his life. In addition to being in constant contact with Megan, and being the only one that heard everything that happened, I can be objective.
June 1, 1993 — According to Sammy
It was graduation day, and this was to be my last night in Pontiac. Victor heard about a block party, and having nothing else to do, I tagged along. We lost each other in the crowd, and I was about to leave when I spotted Megan. She was surrounded by four admirers, not more than ten steps away.
They didn't see me. I used the shadows and the milling crowd to conceal myself as I watched the four under-graduates vie for her attention. Chase joined the group, carrying two beers. I told myself to leave. There was no reason to linger. We'd said our goodbyes after graduation. She was Chase's girl. Why prolong the agony? One more second and I'll disappear into the crowd, I thought as I watched her accept one of the beers, smiling.
The smile faded as our eyes locked, and I knew it was too late to make my exit.
"Sammy, did I leave something at your apartment?" she asked, handing her beer to Chase, and walking toward me.
How many times had it thrilled me to see her walking toward me? This was different. What had been a casual friendship, watching out for each other, was changing with every step. I knew it; she knew it too.
"Yes, Megan, I put it in my pencil drawer."
Subconsciously, I counted the steps that brought her closer. How many times had we run together, kissed, and even shared the same bed?
And then, she was a foot away. We were touching, smiling, taking each other in. It didn't occur to me to consider the consequences. The thought of what I would say to Adeline, or what we'd tell our friends didn't cross my mind.
After nine months of pretending that we were just friends, this was different. The way she felt in my arms was different from all the other times we had hugged. The way we kissed was real, not casual. The crowd detected that this was different. Their cheers made us break the kiss, and smile at one another.
Megan placed her hand in mine, and we began to run, grinning at each other, not looking back. The crowd cleared a path for us, like they knew this was the real thing.
I'll admit that I wasn't thinking clearly. I was aware of how her hand felt in mine, and that we were heading in the direction of my apartment, but I was in no hurry to get there. I was consumed with the happiness that I felt, and from her smile, Megan was feeling the same as me.
We ran up the stairs, and I had trouble getting the key out of my pocket because she was all over me, pressing her body into mine. I gave up finding the key, and kissed her, invading her mouth and letting her tongue search for my tonsils. This was definitely different, and right. It was definitely right.
We were forced to stop when we ran out of air. I was dazed, but I found the key and opened the door. Inside, it all came back to me. It was the same as the day we had met, standing at this very spot in the kitchen. She hadn't changed from the blonde, California girl with the runner's scar on her knee. She was even dressed the same as that day nine months before.
Monday, June 2, 1993
What time was it? The sun was high. It had to be nine, maybe nine-thirty. I was headed for the bakery because the refrigerator was empty. This was my chance to be alone, to think about what I'd done, what we'd done. I was pretty sure that it was a big mistake.
I bought half dozen bagels, a quart of orange juice and four cups of coffee before heading back to the apartment. Would Megan be awake? Would we talk about what happened? What would we say? Would she have regrets?
Would I have regrets? Something like this had happened two years before. Shirley had left and I'd agreed to drive her roommate, Tammy, to the airport the next day. She practically begged me to fuck her. I made sure there would be no strings before I agreed to do it, and there had been none. She never attempted to get in touch with me, and as far as I know, she never told Shirley. I'd even forgotten to include her name on a list of my conquests I'd supplied to Kelley, and later to Marcie.
I was rationalizing. This was different. Tammy meant nothing to me; Megan meant everything.
I stepped into the apartment and was depositing my purchases on the kitchen table when I heard Megan giggle. I went to investigate the cause, but when I got as far as the bathroom I stopped to listen. Her soft voice was interrupted by fits of laughter, short silences, followed by almost indiscernible discussion. I crept closer to the bedroom door, and decided that she was on the telephone. It wasn't hard to know who she was talking to. It had to be Debra Simmons Evans, the girl I'd had a crush on so long ago.
"Me? Sorry? No way! Last night was incredible. I'll treasure it always."
After a short pause, and another giggle, "Four, I think, although it may have been five. I kind of remember waking him and telling him that I was going to fuck him. He let me be on top. It must have been five times."
Another pause and more giggles, "No, he didn't make me do anything I didn't want to do. He's gentle, and very considerate. I was the aggressor. I couldn't get enough of him. I'm just sorry it's over. I wish I didn't have to leave today."
I took a seat on the floor, waiting for Megan to speak again. "What do you think? Of course it's sore, but it feels delicious. My legs ache like I ran a marathon last night."
She listened to another question from Debra. "I'd do it again in a heartbeat, but I've got a flight to catch. Hey, what time is it? My flight leaves at eight-thirty and I haven't had a shower ... WHAT? It can't be. My parents will kill me."
I heard her mutter under her breath as she dialed another number. "Mom, I have bad news."
"What are you doing, Sammy? Did she lock you out of your bedroom?"
I looked up to see Zelda, obviously having come out of the other bedroom, and obviously naked. She turned her attention to the bedroom door when we heard Megan shout, "It's not my fault! I didn't miss it on purpose."
Zelda shrugged, and continued on her way to the bathroom. There was no indication that she was embarrassed at my seeing her tits and pussy. She hadn't made a move to cover up, and I'd hardly taken notice. An outburst from the bedroom got my attention, and I was filled with concern for Megan.
She was sitting in the middle of the bed, nude, staring at my cell phone. Tears were streaming down her cheeks. She looked up at me and tried to speak, but nothing came out.
"I heard," I said, going to her. She slumped into my arms, crying. I ran my hands over her back, trying to comfort her, and felt her body shake.
"I made the reservation weeks ago. The airline won't let me change it now. It was a non-refundable ticket."
I felt her wet cheek next to mine as I stroked her back. "Let's take a few minutes to consider our options. Maybe there's a way..."
"My mom is pissed. They will have to pay full price for a replacement ticket," she whispered.
"Tell them it's not necessary. I'll replace your ticket," I offered.
"Thank you, but that's not necessary. I have a credit card that's strictly for emergencies. This is an emergency," she said, pulling away to look at me, attempting a smile.
She seemed to enjoy the way I was admiring her breasts. They were small, but perfectly shaped. I wondered if she would think it crass if I called them 'runner's tits.' She wiped the tears from her eyes, smiled and I smiled back.
"We'll go to the airport and make arrangements, but first, let's have something to eat."
"I must be a sight. Give me a minute to wash my face."
"Zelda's in the bathroom."
"Zelda's in the bathroom?" she repeated, like she hadn't heard me correctly.
"It looks like she and Victor hooked up last night."
"Is that what we did, hooked up?" she asked, grinning mischievously.
"Call your mom and let her know she doesn't need to replace your ticket. I'll be back when Zelda is out of the bathroom," I said, getting up and heading for the door so she could have some privacy.
"You don't need to thank me. I'm partially to blame for you missing your flight."
"That's not what I wanted to say. What if I can't get another flight out today? Would it be okay if..."
I was anxious to get to Florida to check on how the new house was progressing. Anyway, the apartment was technically Victor's. He was paying the rent as of that day, and would want me out. A devious plan was forming in my mind. "Tell your parents you'll let them know when you have a definite time of arrival," I said, and watched her smile in agreement, like she'd gotten the same devious idea.
As the four of us sat at the table, having orange juice, bagels and coffee, it became clear to me that Zelda had plans to take up residence in the apartment. I wondered if Victor had offered Gladys that honor. Zelda let us know that she was remaining at school for the summer semester. "My parents are going to be away, Europe I think. It's not like they don't trust me to be alone at home. They'll be happy to hear that I have my own place, and at a very reasonable rate," she said, giving Victor an adoring glance.
Megan looked amused. "You don't seem like the domestic type, Zelda. Is doing laundry and preparing meals going to agree with you?"
"Victor's going to help, aren't you, Honey?"
His grunt made me snicker, but I didn't comment. Victor hated shopping, and I'd never known him to lift a finger to maintain the apartment. I'd assumed that he would have Gladys to keep everything running smoothly, and invite Zelda and Wendy to help pay for expenses. I had a feeling that both he and Zelda were in for a shock, which could become disastrous once the sexual intrigue wore off.
I wanted to get on the road, and I could tell that Megan felt the same. We said goodbye to Victor and Zelda, went by the house on River Street that Megan had shared with Charlie and Debra, retrieved her bags, and left Pontiac in the same clothes we'd worn the night before, without showering.
The airport was north of town. If Megan noticed that I was heading east, she didn't comment. I looked over at the way she was settled in the passenger's seat. She wore no makeup, but her hair was brushed, and her face was a picture of contentment. I smiled and she smiled back. I reached over and put my hand on her bare thigh. She smiled again as she covered my hand with hers.
We drove for an hour, each consumed with our own thoughts. Every so often, I would look over at her, move my hand on her thigh, and we would smile at each other. Otherwise, we were silent.
To my way of thinking we had been working up to last night for nine months. It was inevitable that we would be traveling east together, with no definite plans. We'd worked hard to graduate college, and deserved to enjoy each other's company for a day or two before we embarked on our real lives. Would another day or two be enough to work it out of our systems? Hell, another night like last night would kill us both. I decided to let her decide when she'd had enough of me. I resolved to head for an airport the second she gave the slightest indication that she was tired of me. How long would that take?
We'd been on the road about two hours when I spotted a motel and pulled in. Megan gave me quizzical look.
"Check out that pool," I said, as if the blue water justified stopping for the day at one PM.
"It looks expensive."
"I have credit cards with very high limits. Anyway, you want a shower, don't you?"
"Yes," she said in a sheepish tone of voice.
"I'll bet you're hungry, too. There's a restaurant next door."
She turned her head to look at the restaurant. "It looks expensive."
"Wait here, I'll be right back," I said, heading for the office. Minutes later I was back with a key to a room on the second floor. We drove around the building.
"I only need the smaller bag," she said.
"Is there a swimsuit inside?"
"Yes, I think so," she said.
I told her to use the shower while I checked in at the office. Wanda answered on the first ring. "What's going on?" I asked.
"Where are you?"
"I'm on the road, headed east. Did the old folks get back all right?"
"Yes, they said they had a good time. I think they both have visitors in their office. Do you want to talk to them?"
"No, I just saw them yesterday. Tell them I called from the road, okay?"
"Sammy, where should I say you are?"
"They don't care where I am as long as I stay away from the office until the Omaha building mess blows over."
"You're wrong! They care very much where you are."
"Don't you get it? They're sending me to Florida so I don't have to take the heat from the investors. Overseeing construction on the house is a 'make work' assignment. The contractor knows what he's doing. He doesn't need me looking over his shoulder. They're going to keep me down there until the investors stop asking why they let me screw things up."
"Got to go," I said, cutting her off when Megan came out of the bathroom with a towel wrapped around her head, nothing more.
She laughed at the way my mouth was hanging open. "You've seen it all before," she laughed.
"It's the way you're dressed. I haven't seen that hat before. Is it new?" I asked, pointing to the towel.
She blushed. I ducked in the bathroom and when I returned ten minutes later I wore only a towel wrapped around my head. Megan's eyes bugged out.
"You've seen it all before," I said, but that didn't stop her from watching me dress.
"This is the only thing I could find to wear," she remarked as we walked to the restaurant. "I shipped most of my clothes home."
"I like it," I said, glancing at the sundress and sandals she was wearing. "We'll go shopping later. I'd like to find a black dress for you to wear to dinner tonight."
"No, we won't," she said in a voice that had a ring of finality. I differed, but didn't correct her.
I was astonished to watch Megan eat. She put away an enormous lunch.
"Rule number one," I said, "in future, tell me when you're starving. We're not on a strict schedule. We can stop any time you want."
She smiled coyly. We returned to the room, and I guess she thought she was off the hook as far as shopping was concerned because she took off her dress and hung it up.
"I need to rest after that big lunch," she said as she sprawled on one of the beds. I took off my shoes and joined her.
"It doesn't have to be black," I said, referring to the color of the dress I intended to shop for. I didn't really care as long as it wasn't green or white. Kelley wore green constantly, and Shirley was partial to white.
"Take off your shirt," she said, disregarding my remark about the dress.
"May I ask why?"
"I want to look at your chest."
By the time I'd removed my shirt, she had set her bra aside, putting her breasts on display. "Fair is fair," she quipped.
She lay facing me, seemingly fascinated by my bare chest. I know I was fascinated by hers. I let her set the tone. She didn't make a move to touch me, and I kept my hands at my sides, some distance from her breasts. I felt my cock stir in my pants.
"I heard you tell Debra that your legs ached, like you had run a marathon. Did you win?"
She didn't look up from my chest, making me wonder what she found intriguing about it. I ran and played tennis for exercise, but it had been two years since I'd worked out regularly.
"I didn't finish. The marathon I was referring to was how many times we did it," she said, keeping her eyes on my chest.
Would she find it funny if I asked if it was a marathon fuck? I thought not. "Would it help if I gave your legs a massage?"
Her eyes didn't waver, like she was considering my offer. "Running doesn't put my legs through the kind of workout that we put them through last night. I opened them as far as I could the first time, then, the second time I tried pointing them toward the ceiling."
I watched her eyes, thinking that she would look up to see if I understood, but she kept her eyes focused on my chest. "Was the second time better?"
Megan blushed. "Every time was better," she said, showing me that she had misunderstood the meaning of my question. Should I clarify that I'd been asking if pointing her legs toward the ceiling was easier on her legs, not whether the sex had been better?
She continued. "The third time, I wrapped my legs around your thighs and locked my ankles."
This time, she did glance up, smiled, but only briefly, before averting her eyes to my chest. I decided that she was using it to shield her embarrassment from a subject she found difficult to discuss. "That way was better," she added.
Should I restate my offer to massage her legs? She was on a roll, and I wanted to keep her talking.
I waited while she studied my chest. "The fourth time, I folded my legs back, like scissors, and held them. You put your hands under my ass to support it. That was the best."
"I'll file that for future reference." I said, and had barely gotten it out of my mouth when she brought her lips to mine. I put my arm around her, and felt her breasts snuggle to my chest.
Her explanation of what was making her legs ache must have been exhausting because she fell asleep in my arms. Perhaps our night together had been more tiring than I'd thought. I closed my eyes, and awoke in total darkness. There was a blanket covering us. My arm was draped over her waist, and her hand was holding mine to her breast.
So much for taking advantage of the pool, I thought, as I listened to her breathe. Shopping for a dress was out of the question. What time was it? I was hungry, and I needed to take a leak, but I was held captive by her small hand.
What made her talk candidly about the positions of her legs during our sexual encounters the night before? She'd made the mistake of holding her legs as far apart as possible and pointing toward the ceiling. I hadn't suggested it. It wasn't my idea for her to put so much strain on her legs that it made them ache later. In fact, I didn't care what she did with her legs while we were having sex. Frankly, I hadn't paid any attention to what she was doing with her legs.
Apparently, she had liked for me to put my hands under her ass to lift it off the bed. Was that her reason for going into detail about what she'd done with her legs while we were fucking? "That was the best," she had said. Was she referring to the way her legs felt, and not the sex? The thought made me laugh, and that caused her to wake up.
Megan must have been surprised to find that it was dark in the room. She stretched, and turned over to face me.
"I'm sorry I woke you," I said, not explaining the reason I had laughed.
"You were sleeping, too."
"I hope it was you that covered us with the blanket?"
"It was me," she confessed, pressing her lips to mine before exclaiming, "You need a shave."
"I know, but not as much as I need to piss," I said, running to the bathroom. I was shaving when she joined me, pulling her panties down and taking a seat on the toilet.
"Did you notice what time it is? Are you hungry?"
"It's ten-thirty and I'm starving," she said, just as her pee hit the water below.
We made it to a pizzeria just before its closing time, and the owner took pity on us. He made us a large pepperoni pizza, but told us we would have to take it home to eat. We took it back to the motel room along with large Coca-Colas.
"This reminds me of your Friday night parties," Megan said, as she polished off the first slice and reached for another.
"I don't remember you scoffing down the first slice and reaching for a second so quickly."
"It must be the sex. If we keep this up I'll be as big as a house," she laughed, blushing.
"No you won't. Sex is good for the figure," I retorted as I reached for a second slice of pizza.
"As long as my diaphragm does its job. I'll be as big as a house if it fails me."
I'd never heard Megan talk so openly. I loved it, and wanted her to keep it up. It was like she was liberated. "I have a question about something you said before."
She looked thoughtful, chewing slower than before. She was wearing cut-offs, and looked especially cute with a T-shirt and no bra, the picture of a truly liberated woman. Megan nodded for me to continue.
"You said 'it was the best' when I put my hands under your ass and held it off the bed. Did you mean it put less strain on your legs, or was the sex better that way?"
She reached for her third slice of pizza, and I didn't think she appreciated my question. She took a big bite and looked at me.
"Sammy, would you mind if we turned out the lights?"
Her request puzzled me, but I didn't question her reason for wanting the room darkened. I was perfectly willing to grant her wish if it would make her talkative. I grabbed a third slice of pizza and turned off the lights.
She talked and I listened, about how much she had enjoyed the night of graduation and the following morning. The darkness made her open up. She gave me credit for making the night memorable; saying that I'd kept her guessing what was going to happen next. She answered my question regarding the fourth time, saying that she found the position her legs were in was quite comfortable, but 'it was the best' because it took me forever to come, and I'd stopped to let her compose herself after each of her three orgasms. She also confided that she'd especially enjoyed the fifth time when I let her be on top. "I was so glad that you didn't flip me onto my back and take over. You don't have a macho bone in your body," she whispered.
Megan found me in the dark, pulled me to my feet, and began removing my clothes. I followed her lead and peeled the T-shirt over her head. When she got to my shorts she stopped and I took this to mean that she wanted to keep her panties on.
The long nap had left me wide awake, but we got into bed anyway. "I have a question," she said, indicating that it was my turn to talk. Things couldn't have been clearer; this was to be a night with no sex.
"Okay," I said, accepting her wishes for me to answer her question.
"Do you think I'm sexy?"
What kind of question was that? Didn't she know that I had lusted for her from the moment we had met? Couldn't she see it in my eyes, my actions, and the way my cock jumped in my pants every time we'd been together?
"No," I said.
"You don't?" she asked in a hushed, devastated tone.
"How do you think I've stayed on my best behavior the last nine months?"
"Do you mean?" she began, but couldn't continue. She moved away from me to the far side of the bed.
"Megan, there are more important things than sex appeal. I've cared for you from that day we met in my kitchen. To me, you were the essence of perfection, and nothing has changed my thinking about you. Hasn't it been apparent from the beginning that I worshipped the ground you walked on? I always watched out for you. Do you remember how I advised you not to run along the river because of the way the guys fishing leered at you? Every time we ran, I made sure you got home okay, and when you stayed at the apartment, I got you off without penetration. When you became Chase's girl, I encouraged you both. Damn it, Megan, you're the sexiest girl I've ever known. There, I admit it!"
It startled me how quickly she leapt into my arms, kissing, and mashing her breasts against my chest. "I believe you. Everything you said is true. I've seen it. You truly care for me. I care for you, too."
We held each other, laughing, kissing, and repeating how we felt about each other.
"I have a question," she said when she calmed down.
"How come you jumped my bones last night after treating me like a leper for all those months?"
"It felt right," I said.
She snuggled to me, and I held her until we fell asleep.