Sounds, they are something most of us live with and there are many sounds we take for granted and hardly hear anymore. Sounds like traffic, or trains, if you live near a busy road or railroad track where there are many trains during a day passing through. Other sounds tell the tale of our lives. Blind people need sound to be able to compensate for their loss of sight. Sounds guide them through this maze we call life.
Then too there are sounds that make us all soft and cuddly inside, like a child's laughter, a kitten meowing or purring; the sounds of a loved one saying 'I love you'; the sounds of a new spring day as the sun rises and you hear birds chirping or singing. There are other sounds that make us happy, like the great crack of a ball hitting a bat and you know it is out of here; or maybe the laughter of a child or one saying 'I love you Daddy!'
But just like the good sounds, there are bad sounds too; like shots in the night, a dog's growl, a woman or child crying or screaming. These sounds make us fear things we cannot see. This story is about those sounds that make us afraid, very afraid.
Let me give you some background first and then we can hear the sound of fear. I'm Steve Logan; I'm 26 years old, 6'-1", 189 lbs and fit between working out at the gym and running. I have wavy blondish red hair and am considered quite handsome by the opposite sex. I own my own business, although it is not a real money maker yet, but it is coming along nicely. I have many friends and one in particular is my best friend, next to my lovely wife; that is Joe Peterson. Joe and I met in second grade, I was bigger and he was much smaller than your average second grader, so he came to me to see if I could stop him being bullied. I said 'sure, no problem' and we hung around together from then until high school graduation.
Joe ended up to be fairly handsome, but short compared to me. His 5'-9" height and 165 lbs, added up to a nice package, but he is a pussy hound and is pretty good at it. He can just about talk any girl into his bed if he puts his mind to it. During our high school years, I can't count the number of times that my size, features, and athletic abilities brought girls flocking to me and Joe's charm and gift of gab got us both laid, a lot and I do mean a LOT. After graduation, I received a scholarship to the state university located about three hundred miles from our home town. Joe with mediocre grades and a fancy free lifestyle stayed around home and got a job selling used cars, at first. He actually was a good salesman and soon worked his way up into the new car dealership in town.
For me, I played football as a wide receiver and baseball as a great shortstop for three years until my knee was torn during a football game in October just before Halloween. I was sidelined for football, but my baseball hitting was unaffected and fielding suffered a little so I was repositioned to first base. But that was after being redshirted the rest of my junior year and part of my senior year. Since I still had one year left of my eligibility I was back to playing baseball for my fifth year as a senior.
I had not been lax with my studies either. I was able to get a Bachelor's in business management with an Associate's in computer drafting and with my five and a half years at University I came home with a MBA as well. I made good use of the scholarship and then paid separately for the summer schools I went to, to be able to get my masters before I left school. I started my small business in designing and setting up renovations for new businesses or when a business wanted to expand.
While in college, I met a lot of nice girls, but one stuck out like a rose among daisies. This was Cynthia Jean Thornton. Cyn was 5'-7", 125 lbs loaded into a 36C-25-35 frame. She was a natural blond, and cute as could be. She was a cheerleader and the head one when I had my accident. Surprisingly she never gave me a look until that fateful night in October, the 28th to be exact. The next day at school I was trying to juggle my books, my notebook and my crutches at the same time and it just wasn't working. I dropped my notebook and she retrieved it and then relieved me of my books and said, "Where to Handsome?"
To say I was stunned would be an understatement. Here was the head cheerleader; someone who previously wouldn't have given me the time of day, if asked; was suddenly helping me. I mumbled something about going to Economics class and she said, "Lead on Handsome, I'll follow you." Well she didn't actually follow me, she walked right beside me and when the hallways got crowded, she spoke up saying things like, "Make a Hole, important cargo coming through," or "Football Star needs some space to walk here."
When we got to my classroom and she helped me sit down in the aisle seat and then sat right next to me. I had to ask, "Do you have this class?"
"Sure, handsome, I usually sit up there," as she pointed to the last row where there were several jocks and some other cheerleaders. I usually got to class early and sat up front so I could get the most from each class.
"Thank you so much ... ah..." I started, but I really didn't know her name at that point.
"Oh, I'm Cynthia Jean Thornton, but most people call me Cyn. And you are Steve Logan, star wide receiver or were anyway and holder of several school records in both football and baseball. I heard that your batting average last season was an impressive .403 with 35 homers and 78 RBI's."
"Ah ... I'm pleased to meet you, but why did you suddenly decide to talk to me and even help me to class this morning?"
"Well, I kind of wanted to meet you for the last couple of weeks, but I heard that you don't think much of the jocks and cheerleaders that don't study and just squeak by. I'm not much better than them, but I do try hard to get something out of my classes. I need some help in some of my subjects and since you're out of commission for a while, I thought maybe you could help a poor girl out."
About then the professor walked in and I said quietly, "We can talk after class." We both then concentrated on Economics and tried to learn something.
That is how it started, I helped Cynthia with her studies and she helped me get around the school and to some parties on the weekends when we weren't studying. By Christmas break we were a couple and I took her home to meet my parents. I said that she was my girlfriend and that we dated exclusively. The reason we were together I believe is that she really liked me after she got to know me. As for me, when I was near her I felt different, I felt love, kinda like when I was around my mom.
They liked her right away, but my dad asked me later when we were alone, "Son, are you sure that you want such a pretty girl for a girlfriend. A lot of them pretty girls have a wandering eye. Now you just watch careful before you commit to something that's gonna break your heart later on."
I had explained how we met earlier in the evening and mom had Cyn in my old bedroom and I slept on the couch during our five day stay. I think that my small town parents and their old fashioned southern ways may have changed Cynthia's feelings toward me as she didn't say a whole lot on the trip back to school. She had gone shopping at the mall for some presents for my family, but when she came home she seemed different. I just thought she was missing her parents and their celebration. I told her that we could either go to her parents for New Years or Easter. She seemed to perk up then, but was still quiet most of the trip.
When we got back I didn't see much of Cyn for a couple of weeks and then it was just like nothing had happened. We hadn't had sex yet as I was kinda taking it slow. We had made out quite a lot and we had both done oral on each other. When I made oral love to her, it took at least an hour and she was always limp as a wet dishrag when I was done. That's why we always had her do me first.
We did go to her parent's home in St. Louis, Missouri during spring break. It was a long trip by car so we flew by way of her parents sending her the tickets. I was surprised, when she told me about them springing for tickets for both of us. I slept in the spare room at the end of the hall next to her parent's room. Cyn was in her old room downstairs. I got the distinct feeling that I was totally beneath them and that I was just poor white trash. I did talk a little to John Thornton regarding my records at school and my possible baseball career. I had been drafted by the Chicago Cubs as a shortstop, but then they said first base would be ok too, if my hitting could cross over into their Double A minors team the Tennessee Smokies. I guess he wanted to have his daughter bag some rich guy at school and I was not it. For all I knew they already had someone picked out for her.
The four days we spent there I hardly even saw Cyn. Her mother and she were always gone and I was left alone with the maid. Needless to say I was mighty pissed when we got on the plane to go back to school. Cyn wouldn't talk about the stay, she said she was tired and went to sleep, or at least it looked that way to me. Thank God we didn't live together yet. Monday morning first day back to school, I didn't see Cynthia at all. In fact I didn't see her until Friday morning of the next week. She came by my room before I left for class and asked if I was going to take her to the party that night at the Frat house. I told her I didn't even know about it but if she wanted to go, then I would take her, but I did ask, "Cyn, what happened, I haven't seen you since we got back from our trip to your folks?"
.... There is more of this story ...