Chapter 1: Reunion

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

Desc: Romantic Sex Story: Chapter 1: Reunion - When Deputy Sheriff Cliff Henson, of Clearwater, MT, learns that his ex-fiancée, celeb singer Kylie McAdam, will attend their five-year high school reunion, he volunteers for the night shift to avoid seeing her. Yet, Kylie has a way of worming herself back into his life, upsetting his carefully planned future.

Deputy Sheriff Clifford Henson, Cliff to his friends, entered the driveway to his parents' house. It was empty. His parents were still at work at the General Store his father owned and Cliff had no siblings. He mostly had the place to himself and living with his parents fit his fiscal needs at the moment.

At 24, he was a college graduate with a major in pre-law, and he planned on attending law school. He needed savings for that, and spending three years as a deputy sheriff in his hometown, Clearwater MT, and living rent-free in his parent's home, would allow him so save up his pay and get some law enforcement experience under his belt. Cliff's goal was to work for the state as a prosecutor.

On the table in the living room he found a letter addressed to him. Finally, six years after he came of age, he had succeeded conditioning his mother against reading his letters and it was indeed unopened. Ripping the envelope open he groaned when he saw the gaudily colored invitation.

Dear Class of 2002, he read.

Guess what, five years have passed since graduation, and it is time for our first reunion! The reunion committee has picked July 6 as the date, and of course the Clearwater High School gym as the venue.

We can promise you an exciting program with live music from our own Clearwater Revival Band, and hopefully from our most famous class mate, Kylie McAdam. Yes, that's right, Kylie McAdam will attend and lend her star appeal to our reunion!

Please send us a note that you plan to attend and don't forget your significant other. I guess we all know who will accompany Kylie!!!

Marjorie Edwards

President, Organizing Committee

Cliff felt the bitter bile rising in his throat.

Kylie was coming home to Clearwater to attend the reunion and probably bask in the admiring looks of her class mates. She would also bring along her half-assed TV actor boyfriend, Hugh (call me Huge) Dumont. The two were filling the tabloids because of his regular run-ins with traffic laws, her public drunk hissy fits, and the so far unsubstantiated rumors of drugging. The last major story had been when he had given her a shiner in a L.A. nightclub and spent the next three weeks issuing apologies in every day talk show that would give him a stage.

It still hurt Cliff. Kylie had been his girl. They began dating in their Sophomore year in high school and stayed a couple all through school and into their college freshman year. For his eighteenth birthday Kylie gave him her virginity, and for her eighteenth birthday he gave her his grandmother's diamond ring. To everybody who knew them it was a done deal that the two would marry once they finished college. Things had turned out different.

In February 2003 they had found flyers for the state contest of Superstar!, one of the emerging casting show formats which enjoyed stellar ratings. Aspiring musicians were to send demo CDs to the organizers. Feeling silly and for the heck of it, Kylie sent a selection of five cover songs from the time in their high school band, the Clearwater Revival Band, and just like that she was selected for the state casting show. It was held in the same city as the college they were attending and Kylie decided to go for it.

Kylie always had a fine voice and she could cover a variety of styles. She picked two ballads and two Rock numbers, and by the end of the show she had won the state tournament. So far it had been fun and Cliff had supported Kylie and helped her, even accompanied her on his acoustic guitar during the ballads.

Things changed then. For the national competition the participants had to go to L.A. and they would be sequestered for a month while every week ten contestants were culled. Kylie and Cliff did not figure that she would spend more than two weeks given that she was a rank amateur, and Kylie decided to give it a try. Cliff had to stay back home but in the first weeks she called him on a daily basis.

Suffice to say, Kylie went on and into the final competition. At that point she was a household name and the newspapers and the emerging blogosphere took note of her. Suddenly Cliff found himself a person of interest as Kylie's boyfriend and he even flew to L.A. for the semi finals to pose with Kylie. He would always remember that weekend for it was then that he noticed the change in Kylie. Along with a few other boyfriends of semifinalists he lodged in a cheap motel and he could not spend one moment alone with her. She was constantly in briefings, dress fittings and practice, and before the semifinals rolled along on Sunday evening, Cliff had to pack his stuff and was on a plane home.

Kylie had a hissy fit, something completely uncharacteristic for her, when she reached him on his cell phone already back in their apartment. She berated him for leaving her without saying a word not even allowing for the fact that she had been completely unavailable for him during the entire visit. Then she demanded that he should come to L.A. for the finals. Cliff had to refuse having important tests on Monday and Wednesday after the Sunday evening (West Coast Time) final. He would not even be able to make the return trip in time, let alone get in any study time. Her farewell that evening over the scratchy cell phone connection was frosty.

She did not call him all week. She did not mention him when she gave her stammered acceptance speech after winning ("Oh my God, I cannot believe it! This is too much!"). He tried to call her all night to congratulate but her cell phone was switched off and she did not answer her voice mail.

Monday's papers were filled with a smiling Kylie hugging the producers of the show, the other contestants, and the half-assed celebrities who formed the jury. She still did not call Cliff. Tuesday's headlines were of another quality. A photog had captured the moment when Kylie stepped out of the limousine of the show's producer. Her lipstick was smeared, her eyes looked glassy, and the evidence that she was sans panties was there for the world to see since her dress had ridden up. The pair of silk panties hanging from the producer's coat pocket was the piece de resistance. The scandal sheets went crazy.

Back home the impact was terrible. One day Kylie was the Queen of Clearwater, their girl who made it big on national TV; the next day more than half the town turned against her. Her parents, when they returned from L.A., could add nothing to what people knew; they had been kept away from her. They had tried to contact her but she did not answer her cell phone. For the next weeks the McAdams did not show their faces in town if they could help it. They wrote to Cliff to apologize for their daughter, and in a way it helped him to cope.

The damaging photos notwithstanding, Kylie had her two months of fame. Then her first album, hastily arranged, was thrown into the music store shelves, but it was a shoddy production and it was later rumored that its gold status was due to massive buying from her producers. She toured after the release but it was clear that her appeal was already waning. The fresh faced girl from Montana had turned into a moody party girl who ran with the rich and infamous socialites for a while.

When next year's contest came along her producer had already cut her loose, citing a lack of potential and discipline. It was telling that this was followed by her best phase. Instead of playing to large crowds, she assembled a group of session musicians and began to play small club gigs. With nothing else but word of mouth to go for her she soon became a top live performer in L.A. and one of the bigger labels signed her on for a three year contract. This time she received more than a token cut from the record sales and in quick order, she recorded two albums which both went gold all by themselves. She wasn't a superstar by any stretch but she had become an artist of her own.

Then, two years ago, she met the proverbial bad boy, Hugh Dumont. He had played a rebellious detective in a cop show that never saw its second season. He then snatched a role as replacement character in a popular sitcom which was on its last leg and was canned a year later in mid season. This was followed by a string of guest starring roles in various crime shows, mostly playing female murder victims' sleazy boyfriends, a role he began to transcend into his private life.

He and Kylie met at a party, and as every gossip service dutifully reported, they hit the sack within an hour. A stormy relationship ensued with lots of headlines. Kylie had to post bail for him at least three times when he was arrested for assault and DUI. He loved to throw things at waiters and parking valets, and he ran over a paparazzo with his car. Kylie posted bail and kept her mouth shut.

Her singing suffered though and her third album for the new label stank to the high heavens. She was spotted drunk in public more than once and rumors were about that she snorted coke. And now she was coming home with her bad-ass boyfriend.

There was no way he would attend the stupid reunion Cliff decided. Let her have the stage, let her parade her boyfriend, Cliff was not going to watch the spectacle. The Sheriff was always short handed on weekends and it would be no problem to be put on duty. He made a mental note to talk to Sheriff Cramer.

Luke Patterson was unhappy.

"Man, Cliff, that sucks! For once we have a real gig again and then you pull out?"

"I pulled duty, Luke. It's a Saturday and nobody will swap."

"Oh, shit! It would have been so great, with you and ... Oh fuck! Jeez, Cliff, I didn't think. Yeah, I can imagine you don't want to share the stage with Kylie."

"Or a zip code," Cliff added. "Keep a lid on it, Luke, will you? I'm on duty, period."

"Yeah, well, it sucks. Why the hell does she think she has to come anyway? I don't think even her parents have seen her in four fucking years."

"Don't ask me, I don't want to know."

"Shit. Listen, Cliff, you take care. I'll spread the word that you are fighting crime. See ya!"

"Yeah, see ya, and have fun. Go rock 'em!"

Cliff watched his friend going back to his table at the diner. Luke and Cliff had drifted apart a little in the years after high school. Going to college does that to high school friends. Cliff did not go home much to reconnect during the remainder of his college years. Everything in Clearwater reminded him of Kylie and he felt that he was the laughing stock of the town. He just buried himself in the books and attended extra courses over the summers, managing to graduate a year ahead.

By then, the money had run out and he had to decide whether to attend a lousy law school immediately or to go to a decent school later and work in between. He picked the latter when Sheriff Cramer offered to hire him as a deputy. Cramer was his mother's cousin, and she wanted to help. The pay with overtime amounted to over forty thousand dollars, and Cliff had been able to save most of it by living with his parents. He was not socializing much and he certainly spent no money on girlfriends. At the end of his three year stint he would be sitting on a hundred grand, enough for a good law school if he could scare up a scholarship or two.

Kylie McAdam felt a growing unease. On the surface this had to do with Hugh's driving. He was going over ninety miles per hour in the rented Porsche which he had insisted they take.

'We're stars, baby, ' he had claimed. 'We can't just drive up in a piece-of-shit Chevy.'

The car was great, no doubt, but a BMW or an Audi, even a Lexus, would have been in keeping with their celebrity status and their financial situation. Kylie was painfully aware that sales of her albums were dropping and the negotiations for a tour were dragging along. Hugh had not had a role in more than seven months which added to their cash flow problems.

The winding road was adding to her discomfort. Having a Bloody Mary for breakfast had been a bad idea all along. She had also taken painkillers against her headache and she felt woozy.

"Can we stop for a sec, Baby?" she shouted over the noise of the engine.

Shrugging, Hugh pulled over. Kylie was out in a flash and then her stomach heaved and heaved until her breakfast was splattered over the ground in front of her feet. She felt weak and cold. Where was Hugh? Oh, God, no! Hugh was sniffing from his little silver spoon.

"Can't you stop that? You have to drive," she complained.

"Oh, fuck it! This baby drives almost by itself," he boasted. "Want some?"

"God, no! You know I don't snort."

They had another hour to drive, on their way from Missoula Airport to Clearwater, and Kylie was apprehensive. It was her first return to Clearwater since her win at Superstar!, and she was not a little worried about the reception she would get. The stupid girls of the committee would eat out of her hands, no problem, but there were a number of people who would not be friendly. Like her parents. The conversation on the telephone had been frosty. Her parents had been unforgiving and they refused to let her and Hugh sleep in their house. That had hurt, chiefly because she could relate to them. She had not called them in four years, only sent greetings cards for holidays.

Then there would be Clifford, Cliff. Once her soul mate, lover and husband-to-be, she had not heard from him either. Well, that wasn't true. She had heard from him alright. Twenty-four voice mails, asking her to call back which she had not heard before it was too late. Then the twenty-fifth message which arrived after the paparazzi photos showed her up as a cheating slut. Cliff's voice had sounded dead, devoid of feeling, devoid of life. She could still remember every word.

'I know now why you won't take my calls. I can see how you moved on. I never thought I'd ever say this to you, Kyles, but you can go to hell! I hope I won't ever have to see you again. All your stuff will be at your parents' house. I'll change the locks, so don't come here anymore.'

With that the message ended. She had cried, had tried to call him, but the connection was refused. He had put her on the no-call list. She never tried again. Now she would see him at the reunion. She had refused to go for that reason but her agent had talked her into attending. She needed a few positive headlines for a change after a year of being permanently stuck on the police report pages having to bail out Hugh time and again for drunk brawls.

Hugh. He had seemed like a nice guy, a little rough around the edges but charming. He was a star too, or so she thought. She was drunk at that party and he had fucked her inside minutes of meeting. He liked to fuck rough, and initially she enjoyed the kick after the awkward, kinky sex with Don Brentano, her first producer.

Those months with Don had been surreal with his fetish for dominance games, and Kylie remembered the time as a continuous haze mostly due to her heavy drinking. There was always Champagne at Don's house and happy pills, lots of them. She knew now that he had filled her up with alcohol and pills from the start and that had been the main reason for her rotten behavior.

Now her relationship with Hugh was going sour too. Two months ago he had slapped her at a club when she refused him the money he needed to buy coke. He had apologized to her for weeks and she had forgiven him, but the easy trust was gone for good. He was doing more and more coke, and he had lost two roles for showing late on the set. Perhaps it was better if they did not stay at Kylie's parents', not with her father being the Clearwater County District Attorney.

They were passing the Clearwater township limits and Kylie swallowed heavily directing Hugh to her parents' home. On the way they passed the Hensons' house, but Kylie could not see anybody outside. Then Hugh parked the metallic-blue Porsche in her father's driveway and it was time to face the music.

Her father had become so old! Kylie could not help the tears when she saw him. His mouth which had always had a smile for her was now a thin, grim line. They shook hands in the driveway like strangers and Kylie followed her father with burning eyes.

The sight of her mother just about killed Kylie on the spot. She was emaciated to the point that she looked like a skeleton. Her head showed only a spotty fuzz of thin, white hair. Cancer! With burning shame Kylie realized it. Her eyes were still alive though and they fixated Kylie with a cold stare.

"I guess we can count ourselves lucky that you need the PR of showing at the reunion," she said with heavy sarcasm in her voice.

"Mom, I didn't know!" Kylie whispered miserably. "If I had known..."

"Well you couldn't. After all, you did not answer our calls or emails and you never gave us an address. So, what the hell do you want now?"

This was her mother? This cold and accusing woman?

"Mom, I received the invitation and I wanted to come and make peace with you and Dad."

"Oh, I didn't know we had a fight. Kinda hard to have one without any contact. Again, why did you come? And who is that junkie?"

"Mom!" Kylie flared up. "How can you..."

"Oh, shut up! I can see his pupils. Driving a rented Porsche, snorting coke, and not two live brain cells to rub together either. Obviously that's the world you chose to live in. Again, what do you want?"

Hugh decided to turn on his charm. "Mrs. McAdam, we came here so I can meet you. Kylie and I have been together for over a year now and I wanted to meet her folks."

"You've met us. Anything else?"

"Mom, is there anything I can help you with? You know, there are great doctors in L.A. Maybe you can get experimental treatment there."

"I'm recovering just fine. I don't need doctors from L.A. I had pancreatic cancer, and the chemo almost killed my liver. That's why I'm so thin. I may still need a liver transplant, but right now things look up."

"You're not ... I mean, you..."

"I'm not dying if that's what you mean. You can wait until your ten year anniversary for the next visit."

Kylie looked at her father imploringly. "Dad, can't we at least talk some?"

James McAdam shook his head sadly. "Well, Miss Superstar, we could have used your support six months ago when your mother was so sick and weak. You wouldn't answer our calls then. You wanna know who helped us out when I couldn't keep my eyes open after waking three nights in a row? It was Clifford. He came in after a full shift and kept watch. Offered it freely too. He did this after all the shit you heaped on him. After you traded him in, first for that sleazy old lecher and now for a useless poser."

Hugh puffed himself up. "Mr. McAdam, this is getting a bit too much. I have something to show for. I am a well respected actor."

"A bit part player, and a lousy one. A poser who rents an expensive car to show off. Let me tell you one thing – you better not drive anywhere before you sober up, or by God, I'll have you pulled over and tested. And if you test positive, I'll prosecute you and there ain't enough sleazy lawyers in this state to keep you out of jail. Now go, and I mean on your feet!"

"Dad, you're throwing us out?"

He looked at her. "Kylie, you're our daughter, but don't expect us to act as if you didn't tear our hearts out. Go now, go to your reunion and be a big star. That shit doesn't fly in this house anyway. Come back when you've found yourself again."

They had to leave then and Kylie was feeling physically sick. She had expected a few choice remarks but not the coldness and the complete rejection. She had not expected to find her mother so sick. What had she expected then? Hugh broke her train of thoughts.

"Is your old man off his rocker? What did he mean, we should walk?"

"He's the district attorney for the county. If you get into that car he'll call the sheriff and then they'll pull us over. You want to be tested for cocaine?"

"Shit! So what do we do? Call a cab?"

"I'll do it," Kylie sighed. The visit had started bad and it was getting worse quickly.

"And now, our star, our superstar, Clearwater's most famous daughter, here she is! I give you, Kylieeeeee McAdam!"

Chuck Abrams was doing his Ed McMahon number announcing her and Kylie stepped up on the stage where the remnants of the Clearwater Revival Band were stepping into the background. A few spotlights were directed at her, but she could still make out many familiar faces. Cliff was not among them but then again he would not stand close to the stage to admire her.

"Good evening, Clearwater!" Kylie intoned. "It is so good to be back. It feels like ages and I want to hear all about you before I'll leave. Anyway, great anniversary, Marge!"

A few people clapped their hands but most just stared at her, some not too admiringly.

"So, Class of 2002, the guys who just played were my band back then and perhaps we can talk them into another little revival?"

A few people clapped, but Luke stepped to the front covering the microphone with his hand. His voice was low but his words were crystal-clear. "Kylie, unless you can talk Cliff into joining, and good luck with that, there won't be any revival. Besides, I can't remember us being your band. Either you brought your own canned music or you'll have to do your stuff a capella."

With that, the three remaining band members climbed off the stage to leave Kylie openmouthed. Even Janet Running Elk, once her best friend, followed Luke and Peter with a sad shake of her head directed at Kylie. She could hear a few chuckles and giggles.

"Should I sing at all?" she asked hesitantly and at least the majority of the crowd cheered her. Bracing herself Kylie took the mic. "Luke, can you guys lend me an acoustic guitar? Please?"

"The blue case," Peter Loring shouted back, pointing at a guitar case.

"This isn't exactly how I envisioned this but I guess you guys have your reasons," Kylie said sadly as she opened the case. All the blood rushed from her face when she saw the instrument. It was Cliff's Ovation, the guitar he had played when it was just he and Kylie. She had last seen it at the state contest where he had accompanied her. She looked up at Peter.

"What are you doing with Cliff's Ovation?"

Without malice, sadly, Peter answered. "He gave it to me. Said he didn't want to play it no more."

Kylie nodded and picked it up, closing her eyes briefly. Without thinking she quickly tuned it using her ear as only reference. Then she sat on the lonely chair up front and began a slow strumming the way Cliff had taught her almost seven years ago. The song she sang was one from her latest album; not very popular in other words. Elevator music, Cliff would have called it. She quickly brought it to an end by cutting on the repeat segment. Kylie was a live performer at heart and she could sense the mood of a crowd. No, the R&B numbers would not fly with that crowd.

She tried some of the songs she had sung on her second album, the one produced after her successful run as a live act. This was more like it, but still she could not really connect. They were nice enough to give her applause, but this was not how Kylie wanted her performance to end.

Suddenly she knew what to sing. The words and the music came to her without conscious effort, the words she had penned down six years ago while Cliff had improvised on the melody. They had performed it as a duet a few times, but mostly they had kept it to themselves. Now Kylie felt the overwhelming urge to sing it. 'The Sky Below Us' was a song about the high-flying exultation of being in love.

She was slightly rusty and her guitar play was far from perfect, but she let her voice grow into the song. It felt good and it felt right. If anything, she wished that Cliff would hear her and join her on the stage, but that would never happen again. He must hate her after the way she'd betrayed him, after she'd publicly humiliated him.

Sadness enveloped her and for the last verse she stopped playing the guitar and indeed sang a capella. Even through her sadness she noticed how much better this song suited her voice than the silly R&B numbers she had done on her recent album. She ended it with tears running down her cheeks and she rose from the chair, carefully clutching Cliff's guitar to her chest.

"Folks, that's all for today. I planned on a bigger program but I can't do it tonight. I'm a little bit emotional right now and I ask you to forgive me."

Peter was standing behind her and took the guitar from her hands storing it away in the case.

"Peter, if Cliff ever asks to have the Ovation back, do you think you can give it to him?"

Peter nodded. "It's his. I'm only safekeeping it for him."

Emotionally drained, Kylie went to the bar. Sure enough, there was Hugh, talking up the two hat check girls, college girls at best. He noticed her and shook his head.

"'Sup with you, Kyles? You're all weepy and stuff. And that last song, God, who wrote that shit?"

"I did," she answered curtly and he guffawed.

"For real? Get outta here! I guess you need some of Hugh's TLC, Baby, to get this shit outta your system."

He was slurring a bit too much, talking a bit too loud, and people looked at him, some with obvious disdain.

"Thanks for getting shit faced while I'm having a meltdown here," Kylie said bitingly.

"Fuck, cut the drama queen shit. So they don't love you anymore? Big deal. This is the greatest assembly of losers I've seen in my life."

"They are the people I grew up with, Hugh. They are my class mates. Compared with us most of them are winners. At least they have friends."

"Yeah, but you're not one of them anymore. Let's go back to that roach burgh. If you get me there before I fall asleep I can get your mood up if you know what I mean."

"God, Hugh, you're such a prince among men," Kylie said sarcastically. "Let's call a cab."

"God, you're stupid," Hugh jeered. "I'm getting the Porsche back."

"No, you're not!" Kylie argued. "You're drunk."

"Aw, you're a stick in the mud. It's just a mile and a half to the motel. What's going to happen? I'll drive real slow."

"I can drive. I haven't had a drop since this morning," Kylie offered.

"Dream on," Hugh laughed. "You couldn't drive a car like that to save your life!"

"You're an asshole," Kylie sighed.

They left then and neither of them saw how the younger of the hat check girls flipped open her cell phone. Her name was Leslie Cramer. She was the Sheriff's daughter and bound for the State Trooper School after the summer break.

Editing and advice by SpikeCO

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