Chapter 27: Birthday Girl

Lori Turns Eighteen

Friday, June 27, 1975

Going over all my relationships in my mind – and now adding Janelle into the mix (or at least re-adding her) – didn’t make things clearer. Finding somewhere for Megan and I to go parking so we could fuck each other, like we both really wanted would have to wait until we both felt it was ‘safe’. There was another report of a murdered and mutilated couple, this time on the south side of Sydney, around Cronulla. My suggestion to Megan, ‘well, maybe he’s moved away from this area, and we are safe here’, didn’t go over at all well.

“Bugger it all,” I said to myself. “I’ll never understand women.”

At least the weekend with Lori and her parents should be enjoyable, first the birthday dinner, then sailing on Sunday. I decided to take things easy with her, just see how she was feeling about us, not put any pressure on her, just follow her lead. Maybe with the pressure of the exams behind her, she might relax, and concentrate on a future for us?

When I got home from school on the Friday afternoon, I spent time getting ready for the evening. I had a shave, then a shower and washed my hair. I took time deciding what to wear, and eventually settled on a new apricot coloured shirt, some dark brown pants, a tie and one of my father’s sports coats. Before I got dressed, I polished my shoes; a new two-tone pair; black and ox blood. May as well make a good impression for her, I thought; at least she might decide I’m worth going steady with.

When the Earle’s pulled up in their big Ford to pick me up, I was glad I had taken the effort to dress well. Lori was wearing a new dress, a long, low-cut emerald green dress, tight at the waist and under her breasts. There was a long slit up the side, almost to the top of her thigh. She looked stunning, standing with her parents at the entrance to the living room.

“Wow, Lori, that’s a great dress,” I said. “You look really beautiful.” I started to blush.

“Do you think so?” she said, and then twirled around, causing the bottom of the dress to flare out, showing her bare thighs. “You look pretty good yourself; I haven’t seen you in a jacket for a while.”

My parents wished her a happy birthday, and we piled into the car, Lori and I in the huge back seat. Lori moved to the centre of the seat, and I put my arm around her shoulder. I was almost tempted to rest my other hand on her thigh, but remembering my intention to back off her a bit, decided not to.

Once at our table, Jack ordered a bottle of champagne for us, looking at me and saying “you’re already eighteen, aren’t you Will?” It wasn’t a question that I was meant to answer. When we each had a glass, he started to propose a toast.

“Well, just on eighteen years ago, I was on a training flight from NAS Jacksonville out over the Caribbean, when I got a radio message to return to base immediately,” he said. “As soon as I had pulled up on the tarmac, there was a car waiting for me, and I was rushed to the base hospital, where Chris was in the labour ward. I was just in time to see my second daughter, Gloria Lauren, born. I’ve never regretted having to cut that training mission short, and now, as my little girl is about to become a woman in her own right, I couldn’t be more proud of her.” He took a big sip of champagne, and raised his glass to her. “Happy birthday, Lori.”

The rest of us chimed in with ‘happy birthday’.

“Actually,” Jack continued, “her birthday is not until tomorrow, and with all the time zone differences between here and Florida, summer time, and all that stuff, the actual moment of her birth is probably not until sometime early Sunday morning here. But this is near enough for us, anyway.”

“I didn’t know your full name was Gloria Lauren,” I said.

“I was named after my grandmother, my mother’s mother, Gloria Lauren Lee,” Lori said. “She was a proud southern woman, a descendant of Robert E. Lee, the confederate general.”

“Wow, that’s impressive, being related to him,” I replied.

“Well, maybe not,” she said. “I hate to say this, Mum, but she was a nasty old bigot, she never got over the Negros getting equal rights, being allowed to vote, all of that. She would still hanker for the days when the ‘niggers’, as she called them, ‘knew their place, as slaves. That’s why I prefer to be called ‘Lori’, so it’s not the same name as hers.”

“That’s ok, sweetie,” her mother said. “My mother grew up in a different time, in Georgia, where race relations, even now, are pretty bad. She was only reflecting the values she was exposed to as a kid; I don’t think she really forgave me for marrying your Father, a damn Yankee. But enough of that, that was one reason we decided to move to Australia, to escape all of the underlying racism around the US.”

“So you’re named after your maternal grandmother,” I said. “And Mary-Beth?”

“After my mother,” Jack said. “Also a southern lady, she met my father when he was doing his basic training, in Biloxi, Mississippi. Despite growing up there, she never had the same racist attitudes as Chris’s parents.”

“That’s because they weren’t descended from plantation owners, where owning slaves was a matter of course,” Chris replied. “It was a different world from what we know of here.”

“Anyway, we don’t have to worry about those family problems over here,” Jack said. “No snide comments about the girls not marrying into the ‘right families’, none of that stuff. Although I have to say, Will, both Chris and I are very happy about Lori’s choice of boyfriend, and when the time comes, you would be an ideal son-in-law.”

“Dad!” “Jack!” Lori and Chris both exclaimed at the same time.

“Now I thought we had agreed, Jack, not to pressure Will and Lori that way,” Mrs. Earle said to her husband. “When they feel they are ready, they will make the next steps.”

Lori’s face was scarlet, and she looked away from me.

“God, Will, I’m so sorry!” she said. “Dad! I thought I had told you about us, we’re not going steady, not yet at least; Will’s just a good friend. If – and that’s a big IF – we decide to get more serious than we are at the moment, it will be when WE want to. We don’t need you or anyone trying to force things along, okay?”

“Alright, alright, don’t fall out of your tree,” Jack said, trying to fix the situation. “I was just saying how nice Will...”

“I know what you are trying to say, Dad,” Lori said. “You and Mum have been working to push us together for years, now. Seriously, we can work things out ourselves!”

So much for my plans to keep things cool between Lori and myself, I thought. Even when I don’t put any pressure on her, there’s always her parents trying to organize her life. We fell into a rather embarrassed silence.

“Will, I’m so sorry about that,” Lori whispered to me. “I tried to tell Dad, but he just doesn’t listen to me.”

I squeezed her hand, to let her know everything was ok. Fortunately, the waiter arrived with our main courses, so we concentrated on destroying the grilled barramundi that was the evening’s special. Jack’s mistaken outburst had put a bit of a damper on the conversation, but after the main course plates were cleared, I held Lori’s hand under the edge of the table. She took my hand, and rested it on her thigh. Before long, she had slipped my hand under the slit in the side of her dress, pressing my hand on her warm flesh. She shifted slightly, and I felt her spread her legs open slightly, and my hand slipped down between her thighs.

I glanced at her, and she smiled slightly, pressing my hand in tighter between her legs. Was she really wanting me to touch her there? With her parents just on the opposite side of the table? Even though what we were doing was completely obscured from view, it was still risky, I thought. Maybe the riskiness of it is what she wants? I let my fingers rub slightly back and forward, on the upper part of her inner thigh. She responded by spreading her legs a little more, pushing my fingers up higher.

I was so surprised to feel my fingertips touching her bare pussy; she had gone out without panties on, wearing a dress split almost to the top of her thighs. And she was upset about her father suggesting that she and I should be going steady; meanwhile she had planned all along to have me rub her pussy, in public! I couldn’t understand her at all. Not that I minded touching her like this; I was starting to get turned on and erect, but these trousers were a little tight across the crotch.

Lori took my hand, and spreading her legs wider, pressed my fingers up against her pussy. I twitched my fingers against her smooth lips, feeling the wetness there. I felt her shiver slightly as my fingertip brushed over her clit; she sighed softly and leaned back in her chair. I had to admire her self-control; here we were in one of the area’s classiest restaurants, sitting right across the table from her parents, and I had my hand up her dress, my fingers rubbing her wet pussy. There was barely an expression on her face, even when I rubbed my finger around her swollen, throbbing clit, or pushed the tip inside her vagina.

After a few minutes, I felt her legs tremble slightly, and she swallowed several times. She reached down, and moved my hand away from her pussy, placing my now wet fingers on my lap – at least I had a napkin there to wipe the wetness from them. She pushed her chair back, and stood up.

“I just need a quick bathroom visit,” she said. “Will you all excuse me?”

Lori headed off to the women’s bathroom, and I discretely dried my fingers on the napkin sitting on my lap.

“So, you will be sailing on Sunday, Will?” Jack asked me.

“Yes, Lori asked if I would like to go with you, since Don will not be there,” I replied. Did he suspect what we had just been doing? I hope not.

“Great, we can teach you all about sail trimming, some more of the race tactics, stuff you really should learn,” he said. “I still want to get you sailing offshore with me; I guess Saturday’s are still out? With some practice, you could race to Hobart with Lori and me this summer.”

“That would be good, probably a lot of fun,” I replied. “But Saturdays are pretty much taken up for me while I am playing at the Mirage; we have practice each Saturday afternoon, then playing until 1am. That pretty much rules out the afternoon for sailing; I guess if I wanted to do Hobart, I really need to get some offshore experience, otherwise I would be a liability.”

“And you would need to get some good wet weather gear, too,” Chris said. “Plus make sure before you signed up to the long race that you weren’t prone to seasickness; 600 miles throwing your guts up is not nice!”

“Well, I think I have a reasonably strong stomach,” I said.

“The Hobart race will test that,” Jack said, as Lori returned. “I was just telling your boyfr ... I mean, Will, he should come out sailing off-shore on Saturdays with us,” he said to her. “Unless you would prefer one day a week break from him?”

“I’ve asked him that several times,” Lori said, as she sat down next to me. “If only he didn’t have that regular gig every Saturday night, he wouldn’t have any excuse.”

Lori’s return coincided with the arrival of dessert, huge servings of lovely pavlova. We tucked into it with great relish.

“You had me soaking wet,” she whispered in my ear. “At least there wasn’t a wet stain on the back of my dress!”

I just smiled at her; no sense in trying to draw attention to us. I wasn’t surprised at how wet she was, my fingers were soaking when I was rubbing her.

After we had finished a great meal, we walked slowly back to the Earle’s car.

“Dad, could you drop me off at Will’s place; he has my present there,” Lori asked her father. “He will drop me back home later, if that’s ok?”

“Sure, as long as you are home by midnight, ok?” Jack replied.

“I’ll have her back by then, I promise,” I said.

“We’ll see you Sunday, around 11?” Chris said as they dropped Lori and I off at my place.

“Sure, we are taking your boat up to the sailing club?” I asked, confirming the arrangements.

Once inside, I told my parents I had to get Lori’s present from my room, and I led her up the hallway.

“I can’t believe you were that bold,” I said to her. “Getting me to rub you like that, with your parents on the other side of the table! What if they suspected what we had been doing?”

“Oh, stop going on about it,” she said. “It was a real turn on, you rubbing me, why do you think I wore that dress with the split and went out without my panties on? You had me so turned on...”

“Now, here’s a present for you,” I said, handing her the wrapped box.

She carefully unwrapped the box, taking care not to rip the paper. When she opened it, and saw the necklace, she cried out.

“Oh Will, that’s so beautiful!” she exclaimed. “It’s the perfect colour for me, I love it! Can you put it on, please?”

I stood behind her, took the ends of the necklace from her, placed it around her neck, and fiddled around with the catch until it was fastened. She looked at herself in the mirror on the back of my door, reaching up to touch and adjust the necklace. I noticed she was still wearing the gold necklace that I had given her for Christmas last year.

“You really shouldn’t have. I said I didn’t want a big fuss made over things and this must have cost too much for you to be spending on me,” she said.

I continue standing behind her, my arms wrapped around her waist. The necklace did look really good on her, particularly with the dress she was wearing. She placed her hands over mine.

“You really make me feel special, Will,” she said softly. “I know I don’t deserve it, not the way I treat you, but when you said the other week I was your special girl...”

“You are a special girl ... a special person to me, Lori,” I said. ‘Careful, Will’, I said to myself. You don’t want to scare her by going too fast.

She turned around, and put her arms around my back, pulling us close together. Her lips parted, and her face was inches from mine. I felt her hand on the back of my head, pushing me closer. The tip of her tongue flicked across her lips, moistening them; I could see them glistening in the light. I licked my lips, wetting them in preparation.

Her face and lips moved slowly closer, Lori closed her eyes, and then I felt her moist lips on mine. Her tongue pushed forward, probing between my lips, seeking my tongue. I opened my lips a little more, and felt her tongue press against the tip of mine. Her hand was on the back of my head, pressing our faces together, while her other hand had moved to my backside, and she pulled me tight to her.

It was a kiss like no other; there wasn’t the raw, urgent desire that I felt with Megan. The last kiss that felt like this one was back in January, on the ill-fated cruise to the harbour with Lori. I was almost overwhelmed by the outpouring of emotions from her, all through that kiss.

After a short time; maybe a minute, perhaps a little longer; but far too short, she broke away from me. I could see tears flowing from her eyes; she brushed them away, and looked down at my feet, not wanting to meet my gaze. I could see where her erect nipples were pushing up at the front of her dress.

“Oh, Will...” she started to say, “I’m really sorry, I shouldn’t have ... the emotions just got to me. Damn it, and I go off at my parents for trying to set us up together, and then I go and kiss you like that. You must think I’m some stupid, crazy love-struck little girl.”

She sat on my bed, and covered her face with her hands, her shoulders heaving as she sobbed. I had no idea what to do; I recalled a quote that I had read from Oscar Wilde, ‘Women are meant to be loved, not to be understood’. What I couldn’t work out with Lori though – how the fuck was I meant to love her, when every time something looked like developing, she would cut me right off?

I sat next to her, and placed a hand on her knee. I knew if I said anything, I would fuck things up even more. After a few minutes, she stopped crying, gave a loud sniff and wiped her fingers over her eyes. I looked at her face, not only were her eyes all red, but her tears had made her make up run; there were black streaks down her cheeks. As much as I tried to, I started to chuckle.

“What’s so funny!” she said. “I didn’t expect you to laugh at me!”

“It’s not that, Lori, just look at your face, in the mirror,” I said.

She stood up, looking at her reflection in the mirror.

“Oh, shit,” she swore. “This is why I rarely use makeup. I’ll be back in a sec.”

She rushed off to the bathroom; I could hear the water running, then the sound of the toilet flushing. After a few minutes she returned; she had washed her face, and there were no longer the black streaks down her cheeks.

“Do I look ok?” she asked.

“You look great,” I replied. “Still as beautiful as always.”

She smiled wanly, and touched my cheek.

“You always know the right things to say,” she said. “Would you mind taking me home now? I’ve spoiled a lovely evening, I’m so sorry.”

“Lori, you haven’t spoiled anything,” I said. “But we can head back to your place, sure.”

My parents wanted to inspect the necklace on Lori as we were leaving, my mother fussed over it specially, and my father gave me a discrete wink. I’m sure they were scheming just as much as Lori’s parents were. As we were driving up the hill from my place, I asked her a question.

“Can we stop somewhere on the way and talk?” I asked. “I’m just really confused, Lori.”

“Uh huh,” she mumbled a reply. “I’m not surprised that you want to.”

Just past the high school, I turned off towards Wingi Jimmi reserve. I parked on the gravel, and grabbed a blanket from the back, to wrap around Lori’s shoulders, since the evening was a bit cool. I took her hand, and we walked down the grassy slope to a bench.

“Um, Will,” she started to say, “I know I owe you an explanation for my behaviour tonight, the kiss and all that stuff. But ... but ... I don’t even understand my reactions myself; I can’t explain why I am so scared of letting myself fall in love with you, even though inside, that’s what I really want. Can you give me time to work things out? We can talk about it all Sunday evening, I promise.”

“That’s ok, Lori,” I replied, putting my arm around her. “No pressure, just whenever you feel comfortable. How about you tell me more about growing up in the States?”

“Well, there’s not a lot to tell, most of the time we were on navy bases,” she started to explain. “As my father said, I was born in Jacksonville, Florida, and we lived on the big Naval Air Station there; my father was posted on an aircraft carrier that had its home port there. We stayed there until I was maybe five; then we moved to Norfolk, Virginia, close to my grandparents place. That’s when his ship was deployed to Vietnam, I didn’t see much of him for a couple of years. Mum was really upset, worrying about him all the time, afraid that any day, some senior Navy officers would come to our house to tell her that he had been shot down, was killed or missing or taken prisoner.

“It was fun there, living on the big base, lots of kids my age too. Mum went back to work, she taught at the community college on the base, teaching English and literature. We would also visit with my grandparents, pretty much every weekend; Paw-paw would take me out sailing in his boat on the big bay. It would have been really great, except my Father was off at the war; at night whenever the reports from Vietnam would be on the TV news, Mum would turn it off. I was old enough to understand what it was all about, the dangers that he was facing.

“One Thanksgiving, he was home for a few weeks, and I asked him why did he have to go there and fight. He said it’s because our country told him he had to, and it was his duty. I asked him ‘so what did those people in Asia do to us?’, but he really couldn’t answer that. I mean, I had seen Paw-paw’s photos when he was in the Navy in World War Two, and I understood why he went to fight the Japanese; we had been taught all about that, Pearl Harbor, everything about them and Hitler in school. It made sense to me why he had to fight, but I couldn’t understand why my father had to go over to Vietnam.

“Things like the cold war, the red menace, didn’t make much sense to a seven year old, I guess. Anyway, in 1968 he was reassigned back to the states, and one evening he and mum gathered us all around, and said that he had been offered a promotion, but it would have meant moving again, this time to the other side of the country, to San Diego, in Southern California. Mary-Beth and I were both upset, we didn’t want to move away, and neither did Mum. So, my father resigned from the Navy, and got a job with his current company, initially in Virginia. We had to move from the base, but we lived with my Grandparents – which I though was even better.

“After a couple of years, he came home one night and asked us ‘would you like to live in Australia?’; he had been offered the job of country sales manager here. Well, he showed us some photos, told us what it would be like, and we all thought it looked so lovely. Mary-Beth asked if she could have a pet kangaroo. I didn’t care; I just fell in love with the photos of the beaches, and all the colourful birds. He showed us photos of the Pittwater area, said that was where we might be living, and said he would get us a boat of our own.

“So, that’s pretty much how we got here; both Mum and Dad love it over here. I can’t see them wanting to moved back; in fact – and keep this to yourself –we have all applied for Australian citizenship. Now I’m eighteen I can apply on my own behalf. Probably by next January, next Australia day, I’ll be a genuine Aussie.”

“That’s so cool,” I replied. “How hard is it to get the citizenship?”

“Not all that hard, just a bunch of forms and all that to fill out,” she replied. “Because we’ve been here almost five years, and Dad is being sponsored by his company, it’s just a matter of course. Plus now I’m eighteen, I can get a US passport in my own right, not just on my mother’s. So I will have dual citizenship, US and Australian; so if ever I want to go back the US, I can live and work there without restrictions.”

I remembered something Janelle told me a while ago.

“Are you thinking you might go back to the US and work?” I asked her.

“I don’t know,” she said. “But its keeping my options open, you know. You never know what the future might bring; we may decide to travel overseas, and being able to live and work in the States would give us another option.”

“Us?” I asked. “Are you including me in that? But I’m not a US Citizen.”

“Well, I, um, you know,” she stammered. “Just on the chance we are still together when we finish university, I mean, you might want to come with me. And if we were married – I’m being hypothetical here – as my husband, we can get you a green card, even US citizenship.”

That was the first time Lori had even suggested, no matter how ‘hypothetical’ it might be, that we might end up together as a married couple. “Yet another complication to work through; things keep spinning out of control,” I thought.

“Ok, I guess that makes sense,” I replied. “Though wouldn’t I have to give up my Australian citizenship if I took out US citizenship?”

“I don’t know,” she said. “I don’t have to relinquish my US citizenship when I become an Aussie. Anyway, it’s just an idea: besides, we might not even still be together by then.”

I thought I should just let that one slide; no need to contradict her, and get into a ‘discussion’ about relationships.

“Anyway, when we have our citizenship ceremonies, you will have to come to see,” she said. “I’m sure my parents would want yours along, too. Your father, being a J.P. witnessed all of our applications, and he provided character references, too.”

I didn’t know he had done that; he hadn’t mentioned anything to me about that at all.

“Do you think we could head back to my place?” she asked. “It’s just a bit cold out tonight, and I’m feeling tired, too.”

We walked back to the car, and I drove the mile to her house. We had a brief kiss, nothing like the one earlier, before she got out.

“Thanks for inviting me, Lori, I had a great night,” I said. “Happy birthday for tomorrow, too. I’ll see you Sunday morning?”

“Ok, Will, and thanks for the lovely present,” she said. “And for being ... being so ... understanding, and not pushing me. I still don’t know why you bother to persist with me, but you are a great friend.”

With that, she ran down the drive to her front door. I drove home, slowly, trying to go over everything that happened in my mind.

Tying Bowlines

Sunday, June 29, 1975

Despite going over everything that had happened with Lori, several times, I was still no closer to understanding her. During the Saturday practice session, and that night performing I was distracted. Also with Megan being close to me, and us still not able to find a way to have sex, my performance was well below par. Not bad enough for any of the others to make a comment, but I certainly noticed it.

During one break on Saturday night, Megan whispered in my ear.

“Have you worked out how we can get together for some hot sex?” she asked. “Or have you decided not to bother about it, and forget about me?”

“No, I haven’t,” I snapped back, and was immediately apologetic.

“Sorry, Megan, I didn’t mean to sound like that,” I said. “It’s all getting rather frustrating; you know I want us to, but with all this stuff with this Ripper character, police patrolling everywhere, I really don’t know. Now maybe with the exams behind us, and the holidays coming up...”

I could see she was just as annoyed and disappointed about it as I was, but there really wasn’t much we could do about it. Maybe the two weeks holiday in August would give us some time alone? That was just over six weeks away.

When I got back home, and was putting my equipment back in my bedroom, my father knocked on my door.

“Got time for a talk, Will?” he asked.

Shit, I thought to myself – what trouble am I in now? Normally they were sound asleep when I got home, or would just stir slightly to ask if things were fine. So there he was, awake, his dressing gown over his pyjamas, wanting to talk. Had someone told them something that I had done? Was I in deep shit?

“How are things between you and Lori Earle?” he asked.

“Um, fine, I guess,” I replied. What was he on about?

“Are you two going together, what’s the term these days, are you two going steady?” he continued.

“Well, I don’t really know; it’s complicated,” I replied.

“Either you are or you aren’t,” he said. “There’s nothing complicated about it.”

“I wish I knew just where I stood with her,” I explained. “One moment, she’s really affectionate, talking about a future life together for us; then the next minute she’s all upset, crying, wanting nothing to do with me.”

“Uh huh,” he grunted.

“I mean, she’s really nice, I like her a lot, and we get on great together,” I continued. “I wish I just knew what she wanted, what she is scared of.”

“Tell me, do you love her?” he asked.

“I guess I do, yeah”

“Does she love you?”

“She says she does.”

“Do you love her as much as you loved Cathy Parsons?”

“Um, yeah, probably; but it’s different, somehow.”

“You haven’t tried pushing her, going too far?” Wow, let’s not beat around the bush, Dad.

“No!” I said emphatically. “We haven’t had sex; I don’t think either of us is ready for that yet.”

“But maybe that’s a concern behind her behaviour,” he started to explain. “Maybe she thinks that if she lets a relationship start between the two of you, then it will quickly lead to you having sex, and that she will somehow regret that. Remember, she probably knows just what her older sister might have done, and seen the effect on her, and not want to make the same mistake herself.”

“Yeah, well, she’s told me a little about what Mary-Beth did when she was her age, and even younger, and she doesn’t want to act the same as her,” I replied.

“What has she said? Has she given any reasons about why she shies away from you?” he asked.

“Well, she saw what happened between Cathy and me, how with all the stuff going on in our lives, we didn’t have the time for each other,” I said. “She’s somehow scared the same might happen with us, which we will end up hurting each other because there won’t be enough time in our lives to work at a relationship. Plus, in the back of her mind she still thinks Cathy and I will get back together.”

“And what do you think about that, not having enough time for each other?” he asked.

“Well, it’s not easy, particularly with all the study for school,” I said. “You would understand that. Plus, we both have other things going on, Lori has her sailing, and I’ve got the music.”

“True,” he said. “But when you get time, you go sailing with her, that’s good. You should try to make time for her; go sailing with her every Sunday. That way, you are telling her that she is important to you. Believe me, it may seem a little thing, and not all that important to you; but if you show in interest in sailing, learn about it, the terms, all that stuff - that will show her that she is important to you. Now, what about her fears that you’ll get back with Cathy?”