Chapter 1: Advice is Abundant

Caution: This Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa, Consensual, Oral Sex, Anal Sex,

Desc: Sex Story: Chapter 1: Advice is Abundant - 1994 is the continuation of the Sammy's Adventures series. Sammy works hard, plays hard, and is benevolent. It is recommended that you read the other eight installments in order to keep abrest of the many references to past events and characters from the past. I would hope that new readers will start at the beginning, however, you may also find a description of past characters in the prolougue to 1993. 1994 contains 28 chapters, and posts will be made every other day.

January 1, 1994 8:33 AM

"Sammy, I'm not waking you, am I?"

I laughed. "It's great to hear your voice. I was going to call you later."

"Adam's sleeping it off, and I wanted to talk to you."

"Sounds like you partied last night."

"You remember Orlando Laredo from school. He invited all the C.M.A. and Speedwell kids who are going to school here. There's quite a group of us. His apartment was crowded. Everyone asked about you."

Orlando Laredo was my room leader when I was a junior. "He was a year ahead of me. Is he attending grad school?"

"Yeah, law, I think. He and Adam had a good time comparing notes."

"Who else was there?"

"Josh and Jeannie, Eddie and Celia, a guy named Spear. He was alone."

"Rodney Spear? He's in Boston?" I asked, remembering Spear from my senior year when I'd traded to get him to be my assistant so I could get rid of Spencer.

"Everyone wished you'd been here. Jeannie was talking about going to that ice cream shop with you last week."

"Yeah, I was getting ready to go to Denver."

"Guess who else was there?"

"Come on, Marcie, you know I can't guess."

"Gloria Remington, she really, really wanted to know everything about you."

"Gloria Remington? She's not still in school, is she?"

"No, she's working someplace in town. She's with Orlando."

"You mean ... with ... as in cohabiting? I don't believe it. Did she say what happened between her and Spence?"

"All she said about Spencer is that Orlando is a giant step up. They seem happy. Like I said though, she monopolized me, asking for information about you."

"I'll bet she did. What did you tell her?" I asked, remembering that day so long ago in the center cottage. Gloria was Spencer's girl. I'd just witnessed Cindy holding her tits as he slammed into her from behind. At first, Gloria resisted my advances. She screamed and fought me as I carried her into the other bedroom, but once I got her into position, and she saw that there was no escape, she settled down and enjoyed me slamming into her from behind the same way I'd seen her boyfriend slam into my girlfriend.

The next time we danced together, she asked if we could do it again. I told her no. I would never forgive Cindy, but I'd taken her back. We remained together through the rest of the school year and summer, until she left for college.

"I told her you are busy. She asked if you are with anyone, but I didn't tell her about Megan breaking it off or about Cynthia and you. I hope that's okay?"

"No problem. You were right by not saying anything about Megan."

"What did you do last night?"

I laughed. "I just missed being in the air when the year turned over. Cynthia picked me up at the airport, drove me to her house, and told me to close the garage door when I left."

"My God, Sammy, how did you let that happen?"

"Kelley had something to do with it. Cynthia accused me of lying about my age and a few other things. Once she gets something in her head, it's impossible to reason with her. She thinks she knows me, but I told her she doesn't know me at all."

"You're right about that. I don't believe there is anyone that knows you completely."

"You know everything about me. I don't hide anything from you."

Marcie was quiet, like she was thinking. "You should update your list and offer to tell her about all the girls on it."

"What good would that do?"

"It would give you a chance to show her that you're not a bad guy. I'll bet the ones that you're still friends with outnumber the ones that no longer speak to you."

"Like Gloria Remington? We're not exactly on speaking terms."

"No, but you could be. Gloria is like so many more that I can name. She holds no malice toward you. Didn't you say that Shirley was receptive when you consulted her about some research she had done?"

"I see what you mean. Megan sent a Christmas card and her note was signed, 'Love, Megan, ' She sent a check to reimburse me for her plane ticket to fly home. I guess you could say that we're on speaking terms."

"Alice came to your party and Jeannie was there, too. Let's go through your list and count how many you're still close with."

"I can name them, but I assure you that the ones that wouldn't talk to me if I called them outnumber the ones that would."

"I think you're wrong. Add up the three Baldwin sisters, the two landscapers and those two girls from Charlie's home town. That's seven that would talk to you, and then there's Charlie's mom..."

"I'm not so sure about Cindy Baldwin. I didn't attend her wedding. Anyway, telling Cynthia how adorable I am to past lovers would mean nothing to her. Kelley has her convinced that I'm a liar."

"Ah ha!" Marcie exclaimed. "That's the ticket. You've got to convince Kelley that you're not a liar."

"That's not possible. Kelley was technically correct about a couple of things she told Cynthia about me. I inflated my age by a few months, and she was right about my dumping Adeline when I hooked up with Megan. What Kelley didn't tell Cynthia were my reasons for dumping her. The only way she would admit that she cheated with the photographer would be for me to pretend that it never happened."

"Would that be so hard?"

As I considered her question, I decided it would not be hard at all. "No, but it wouldn't help me reach my objective of making Cynthia believe me. She's got it in her head that I slept with the woman I was negotiating with in Denver."

"Oh, my," Marcie sighed.

"It's not just her speech that is hard to understand. It's her reasoning, too. Before I left we talked about the possibility that I might have to nail the woman to make the deal. Cynthia said she was okay with it, even if it was not necessary to close the deal. After she heard Kelley tell her how rotten I am, she became convinced that I'd taken Sandra Lynch to bed and that I was lying about it."

"What's going to happen now?"

"It's hard to say. She once told me that she would not treat me badly again, even if I left her for someone younger. I wish I knew what to expect because she has the power and influence to bring me to my knees. I may be forced to have a word with Kelley. I can see it now; she'd like nothing better than to watch me grovel."

"The next time I see you in person, we'll talk," Marcie said, a sign that we were nearing the end of the conversation.

"I'd like that."

"The master is calling. I've got to go. Love ya."

"I love you, too," I said, and heard the dial tone.

As I stepped into the shower, I thought of Marcie's suggestion that I show Cynthia my list of the girls and women I'd bedded. I didn't see where it would prove anything if I told her which ones I was still on speaking terms with. There were several, like Kelley, that would deny that they remembered me, but given the chance, they would hop in bed with me again in a second. Admittedly, there were others, like Karen Parker, who didn't want anything to do with me.

As I was stepping into sweatpants, I noticed Jessica Langley's business card on my desk. Why was I leaving it in such a conspicuous place? I picked it up with the intention of putting it out of sight when I noticed a phone number on the back of the card. Was it her home number and had she written it down for me, expecting me to call her? I left the card on my desk and went downstairs.

John and Suzanne were excited to hear how I'd managed to make the deal on the Denver building without dipping into the investors' funds. We had taken the building over by assuming responsibility for the outstanding mortgage and the real estate taxes.

I told them that the Lynch brothers sent their sister to the negotiating table, probably thinking they would take advantage her feminine charms.

"She excused herself about every hour and went to another office to call her brothers. She would come charging back, like it was the second half and she had just heard her coach give a rousing speech. Each time, she would return with a small concession, such as a reduction in the amount of cash her side needed. However, the concession would be offset by a new demand. It took me two days to learn how to combat her style of negotiating. I excused myself, went down on the street, bought a newspaper and sat in a coffee shop for two hours. When I got back to the office, Sandra was fuming."

John and Suzanne laughed, patted me on the back, and he told me that he was going to propose to the investors that I be appointed manager of the Denver building. "The job will include retrofit, finding viable tenants and keeping the investors informed as to the status of your progress. Does that sound like something you want to take on, Son?"

Gee, I had assumed it would be my job to manage the building all along. Had I overstepped my bounds by telling Neill that he'd be moving to Denver? Would Cynthia Collingsworth and the other investors be watching my every move? "Absolutely!" I said, making my answer sound as upbeat as possible.

What I didn't tell them was how Sandra had tried to play me, first by inviting me to join her for dinner at her hotel, then trying to lure me to her room. I knew they were down to the wire, and all I had to do was hold out until the last day of the year. When we finally closed the deal at five-thirty PM on Friday, she asked to borrow money to pay her hotel bill.

I went with her to her hotel, produced my credit card, and signed my name.

"Thank you very much, Sammy. You've been a gentleman the past few days. May I treat you to a drink in the bar?" she asked.

I needed to go to my hotel, pack, and make flight arrangements, but I saw no harm in having a drink with her.

The hotel bar was a noisy place. It was obvious that most of the crowd was getting an early start on celebrating the New Year. I doubted if any of them were guests of the hotel, although some of them might get a room if they felt lucky. Sandy ordered a daiquiri. I settled for a beer, and when the drinks came, I offered to pay the check.

"Not yet, Sammy, we may want a second," she said, and I told myself it would do no harm to have another drink before we said goodbye.

Sandy downed her daiquiri and was ready for another before I drank half of my beer. "What do you have planned for this evening?" she asked as she watched me signal to the waitress.

"I'm hoping to catch a flight and be home before the clock strikes 1994," I said.

"It sounds like you have an important reason to get home," she said.

"Yes, I do," I said, thinking of Cynthia's willingness to pick me up at the airport, no matter what time my flight landed.

"Happy New Year, Sammy, maybe we'll meet again when you're not so anxious to get home."

"Happy New Year, Sandy," I said, and went back to my hotel to find that the next flight was not until nine PM. I could still make it in time to celebrate the New Year with Cynthia, but after having her cavalierly dismiss me, I wished I'd stayed in Denver.

The rest of the weekend passed slowly. I'm sure that John and Suzanne thought it strange that I was at loose ends, staying in my room, reading, or taking long walks around the neighborhood. I was anxious to return to the office and begin my new job.

After his weekly staff meeting, John showed me the memo he was sending to the investors requesting their approval to appoint me manager of the Denver building. In addition to applauding my most recent accomplishments, there was flowery language describing my plans to transform the vacant building into a model for the future.

Wanda and I worked on my first report to the investors while we waited for the votes to be returned. It was the second day before we learned that nine investors had responded, all voting in favor of my being named 'point man.' Only Cynthia Collingsworth's ballot had not been returned.

I noted that it was Wednesday, January the fifth, six months to the day since I'd seen Megan Freeman.

That evening, I had a call from Heather, wanting to know where her money was. After several questions, asking her why she'd waited until the fifth of the month to contact me, and if Andy had won an event, she confessed that she didn't know where he was. She said she almost knew that he'd gotten a stake from someone else, a wealthy female that followed the rodeo circuit.

"Heather, I'll send you some money, but you've got to get a job and take care of your son."

"How much?" she asked, without committing to do as I'd said.

"You'll see how much it is when the check arrives. In the meantime, get a job," I said, and hung up when I heard her complain that I wasn't being fair. I sent her check to my mother with instructions for her to give it to my sister after her first day on the new job. I assumed she'd go back to the café where she'd been a waitress, off and on, ever since she'd dropped out of high school.

I made it a habit to tour the first floor space with Daniel McDonald each day after the construction crew left. On Thursday, the third day of construction, there was still not much to see in the way of progress. Chalk lines on the floor showed where the partitions were to be built, and some building materials had been delivered.

"By this time next week, the studs will be up and the guys will be installing drywall," Daniel assured me.

The door to the lobby swung open and Wanda thanked the security guard for letting her into the space. She waved a single sheet of paper at me.

"Mrs. Collingsworth approved your appointment," she said, an air of triumph in her voice.

The message was brief: 'Mr. Oldham, I fully support you naming Sammy to guide our interests in the Denver building.' It was signed, CC.

I tried to hide the relief that I felt wash over my body. It was like the time I woke up cold and my mother was covering me with a warm blanket. Like the warm blanket was confirming my mother's love and concern, Cynthia was keeping her word not to treat me badly.

I told Wanda to release the first report to the investors, and I called Neill to give him the good news. He said he would travel to Denver over the next weekend, find an apartment, and set up shop in the building.

After another uneventful weekend, I needed to get out of the house, even for a couple of hours. Jessica Langley sounded surprised that I was calling.

"That was a month ago when I gave you my number. You must be extremely busy with girlfriends or you're very bored with them."

"That's right, it has been a month. I just found your number. Can I interest you in some ice cream?"

"Ice cream? I don't think so, it's the tenth of January."

"They have hot chocolate at this place I like to go to. I'll meet you there at ten minutes after eight."

When she didn't respond, I gave her the address of the ice cream shop and told her I would be waiting for her to arrive.

As it turned out, I had trouble finding a place to park, and I found her seated near the rear of the ice cream shop. She was already sipping a cup of hot chocolate.

"Thanks for coming," I said as I took my seat.

Jessica had not removed her parka. I wondered if it was so she could make a break for it if I said the wrong thing.

A waitress I recognized, from the last time I'd been there with Josh and Jeannie asked if I wanted my usual, and I responded that I did.

"You must come here often?" Jessica asked, speaking for the first time.

"I like this place because it's a good place to talk. They don't bother you until the movie lets out, and then they'll kick us out to make room for paying customers."

"You want to talk?" she asked, knowingly, like she didn't believe me.

"We don't have to talk, but it will be a pretty dull two hours if we just sit here and look at each other."

"Is looking at me that distasteful?"

"Not at all, but It would be more ... interesting ... if you would move your lips and make some sound come out."

She gave me a 'you-can't-be-serious' look. "I see what you're doing. It's called reverse psychology. You think girls expect you to try to get them in the sack, and by pretending that you only want to talk, they will say, 'this guy's sincere, ' and you'll be laughing all the way home about how easy it was to get in my panties."

She took a sip of hot chocolate before settling back in her chair, looking pleased with herself.

"There, I knew you could make your lips move and make some sound come out."

"You didn't hear a word I said, did you?" she asked, showing a pair of lines in her forehead.

"I heard you, and I agree that you have it right. I was using reverse psychology, but not for the reason you think."

She gulped and looked behind her to see if the waitresses were watching. They were not. "This is really getting weird. What other reason would you have to use reverse psychology?"

I took a bite of my ice cream and followed it with a swallow of water. "Doug told me you let a couple of guys work you over. He seemed to think that I could get you out of your funk. I don't know about that, but I'm a good listener if you want to talk about it."

Jessica Langley looked down at her cup, bit her lip and shook her head. "If you think I'm going to talk to a total stranger without knowing something about him, you know what you can do with your reverse psychology."

"That's fair," I began, "Do you believe in fate?"

She drained her cup, set it down, and glared at me. "If this is going to be about questions to find out what I believe in, I'm out of here."

"I take that as a negative. Let me tell you why I believe in fate," I said, and watched her relax, somewhat.

"It was July of 1985 when two things happened to me that I call fate. I got into a little trouble and was sent to live with a wealthy man. He's been a dominant figure in my life ever since. You might say he made me what I am today."

Jessica unzipped her parka, held her empty cup in the air for the waitress to see, and waited for it to be filled with hot chocolate before beginning to talk.

"This guy, we'll call him Paul but that's not his real name, came in looking for a car. I saw him, but we didn't meet until the third time he showed up on his salesman's day off. I guess I knew that he knew his salesman didn't work on Tuesday. I also knew that if I sold him a car I'd have to share the commission with his salesman. Well, he didn't buy a car that day, but he kept coming back on Tuesdays. I'm the schmuck; I told myself that he wasn't bad looking. I'd let him take a car for a test drive and we'd be gone for an hour. That lasted until my manager told me to knock it off.

"The next time Paul came to the dealership I refused to let him take a car, and me, for a test drive. He wanted my telephone number. Well, you know how it turned out from there; it was no time before he was coming to my apartment on my day off. He would leave at five-thirty. He made excuses, never wanted to stay for dinner and never wanted to take me anyplace.

"I should have known he was married. Hell, I didn't even know he was living off of his wife until she tracked me down. She said she wasn't angry at me; and only wanted to warn me about her husband. She'd already kicked him out. We cried together and guess what?"

"What?" I asked, watching her mascara run down her cheeks.

"She bought a car from me," Jessica said, suddenly changing from tears to laughter.

We laughed together for several minutes. I would have liked to hear about the second guy, but she was too wiped out to tell me more. It was only nine-ten when I walked her to her car. It was a late model Isuzu with dealer plates and 'low mileage' written on the windshield.

"Drive carefully," I said, as I opened the driver's door.

A look of surprise crossed her face as she got behind the wheel. "More reverse psychology?" she asked.

I didn't know what she was talking about until I was on my way home. Was she surprised that I'd ended the evening so early? Did she expect me to kiss her? Did she think I would ask to see her again?

Perhaps it was reverse psychology. At least we knew where we stood with each other. She'd unzipped her parka, but hadn't removed it. I judged her height to be five foot, five inches, but it was impossible to judge her weight. Her hair was dark and naturally curly. Until she lost control and her mascara ran, her face had been carefully made up, and her pug nose gave her a cute look.

I liked the grit she showed, proving that she would do whatever it took to make a sale. I especially liked her lips and the way she made them telegraph her disposition as she questioned my motives.

One thing was for certain; Doug had sent the wrong guy to 'make her productive.' I was washing my hands of Ms. Jessica Langley.

A note arrived the next day from Marsha Cody, announcing the next meeting of The Reapers to be held the following Saturday night. I considered a trip to Denver, but missing the meeting would mean that I was hiding, running away from adversity. Kelley deserved to know that she'd rattled the wrong cage. This tiger was sharpening his claws.

Daniel and I were inspecting the progress of construction on the first floor when there was a knock on the door. The security guard told me there was a telephone call for me. Wanda had transferred it to the lobby extension.

"Shit!" I said, thinking that I was not going to get by without having to pick up Cynthia on my way to the meeting the following night.


"Sammy, let's meet at that same place for breakfast. I'm buying."


"Yeah, can you make it?"

I was so happy to learn that it was not Cynthia calling to demand that I drive her to the meeting that I told him I'd meet him at seven AM the following morning.

Relieved, I went back into the space and found Daniel picking up beer cans.

"Fucking subs. I lay down the law with the contractor about this, but they let their subs get by with this shit every time. The drywallers want to work tomorrow. I've got a mind to let them wait out in the cold until I get good and ready to let them in," he said.

"I've got an appointment or I'd let them in," I offered, albeit halfheartedly.

"I'll be here," Daniel said. "I want to give them a piece of my mind, anyway."

We looked over the rest of the job and Daniel quoted the schedule for the next two weeks. "We'll have electricians and plumbers bumping into each other, but that's the way the general wants it. He's trying to impress you by finishing ahead of time."

"Impressing me isn't going to help him. We don't have any other work in this area," I said.

John and Suzanne were going out to dinner with Edith Rowell and a friend she wanted them to meet.

"Penelope left a casserole in the refrigerator for you," Suzanne said as she let John help her with her coat.

"Thanks, Suz, I'll manage fine. By the way, I'm going out for an early breakfast tomorrow."

"We never know if you're going to be here for dinner anymore." Her statement was more one of curiosity than scolding me for not keeping them better informed. I'm sure she would have liked to ask if I was still seeing Cynthia. She didn't ask who I was meeting for breakfast either.

I warmed the casserole and as I ate, Cynthia crept into my mind. While I was pleased that she was keeping her word by not making trouble for me, and I was relieved that she hadn't asked me to take her to the charity meeting, I had to admit that I missed being with her. Our time together had been short, less than two weeks, but those marathon fuck sessions were memorable. That woman was insatiable. What I missed most was going in to the office after a night with Cynthia and have Wanda greet me with a cup of coffee and sympathetic frown on her face. The next day I would be alive and boisterous, already looking forward to that night.

When I got to the restaurant I found Doug waiting for me.

"I ordered your coffee so people wouldn't think I was keeping this booth all to myself," he said, sounding wound up about something.

"I haven't talked to Marsha Cody yet, but I'm going to see her tonight," I explained, thinking that financing was the reason he'd wanted to meet me at seven AM on Saturday morning.

"When are you going to see Jessica again?" he asked, like he hadn't heard my reason for not knowing about the financing.

"I don't know," I said, happy to see the waitress coming to our booth. What was he talking about?

Doug let me order before he continued. "You've got her guessing about what your next move is going to be. I told her you're a busy guy, but she's wondering why you haven't called her for another date."

"That wasn't a date. I took her to an ice cream shop to talk and we talked. What else does she want?"

"Come on, Sammy, she's on to you. She knows you're stringing her along. She's wondering how many more dates you're going to wait before you put the meat to her."

"Is that what she thinks of me? You told me I might help her. You didn't say anything about her wanting to have sex. I got her to talk about one of those guys, but she cried in the ice cream store. I'm not going through that again."

"That's just it. You know how to talk to her. She's very impressed with the way you opened up. That's why she told you how she got taken advantage of. Wait until you hear the second story. It was ten times worse."

"Doug, I thought you wanted to see me about financing for your auto parts business. I'm not a shrink, and I don't want to hear how some guy took advantage of Jessica. She needs to see a professional."

"I thought we might go fishing," Doug said, anxiously watching me.

"It's January, Doug. Who is 'we'?"

My question must have made him think I was interested in his proposition that we go fishing ... in January. "You, me and Jessie," he said, like I should have known who 'we' was.

I played with the home fries on my plate, trying to keep from laughing at the absurdity of Doug, Jessica and I going fishing in January. "You're talking about an overnight camping trip, aren't you?"

"Two nights, how's next weekend for you? Jessie and I have Saturday off. We could go back to that same place. I'll bring the tent, equipment and the food. All you have to do is show up with a sleeping bag."

I set my plate of unfinished breakfast aside. "I may be traveling next weekend."

"When will you know for sure?" he asked, sounding insistent.

"Tell me something, Doug. What does Phyllis say about us sharing a tent with Jessica for two nights?"

"She's cool with it. When will you know if you'll be able to go with us?"

"I may not know until next Friday, but I think I'd like to talk to Phyllis before I commit. Meanwhile, I'll talk with Jessica again. I've got one very important question for her. If she answers it the way I want, I'll make sure I'm back by next Friday."

"What's the question?" he asked, suspicion dripping from his tongue.

"I'm not going to tell you. Do I have your permission to speak to Phyllis about this?"

"Sure, Sammy, we're friends, you don't need permission to talk to my wife.

I left the restaurant shaking my head. Why had I agreed to go fishing with him ... in January? At least I had two outs. If I didn't like what I heard from Phyllis I could back out of going fishing based on the answer Jessica gave to my question. Either way, I was in control.

I arrived late at The Reapers meeting because I had waited until the last minute to see if Cynthia would call to ask me to pick her up. She didn't call.

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Story tagged with:
Ma/Fa / Consensual / Oral Sex / Anal Sex /