Chapter 7: Whereupon Kenny and Jenny Watch

Jenny and I walked into MacBurgerSlut’s hand in hand which I thought was peculiar behavior for a “first” date. Granted, we had already done the nasty (God, high school behavior is catching), but since we were playing first date we should behave accordingly, part of me thought. Fortunately, the reasonable part of me had already decided to just enjoy it. It was a “first date” at MacBurgerSlut’s after all. Holding hands was therefore perfectly and fittingly high school.

The parking lot was crowded. The entry way was very crowded. The dining area was completely crowded. We had absolutely no problem at all getting to one of the cute little and bored burger bunnies behind the counter. A painfully young one named Stephanie pulled herself away from her disappointment at being on the wrong side of the cash register long enough to listlessly take my order for a patty of ground herbivore with various accessories and Jenny’s order for a salad and diet pop/soda (of, sigh, course).

Unfortunately, as I had writen, the dining area was completely crowded which left the pair of us without a seat. We stood together next to the place where one gets one’s straws, napkins, and little packets of catsup. Jenny scanned the restaurant (if you could call a fast food joint a restaurant which I can’t see what else to call it since, as established in a prior, unrelated story, I owned no thesauri).

Someone shouted over the general din of not sober teen spirit, “Ms. Smith” which is (as I now realize that I may have neglected to inform you, dear reader) the surname of my darling Jenny. Flailing my head around, I suddenly failed to see anything other than teenagers in various poses of chemically induced non-coordination. Jenny, however, succeeded in finding the voice’s source. A tap against my arm and a finger point later, my overwhelmed attention was brought to a table full of girls.

This is after all a sex story, so as not to disappoint the more dedicated perverts who may have wandered into this story, I shall describe them in at least general. They were all about fourteen and had that fresh attractiveness which at first excites and then causes massive waves of guilt and shame (at least in those of us who the phrase “she is old enough to be your daughter” means something).

Their dress ranged from the extremely baggy seas of cloth to almost non-existent, shrink wrap. Each wore exactly what she needed to draw attention to what girls their ages shouldn’t be drawing attention. Their bodies were still developing but had clearly reached a point of maturity that told of their collective womanhood. They carried themselves with the pride that only a young woman not yet used enough with herself to develop insecurities has.

About the time my thoughts were shifting away from “what a bunch of cuties” to “they’re old enough to be your daughters,” Jenny grabbed my arm and lead me to the table with the proud announcement, “those are my girls. Let’s go over and say hi!”

I let the chance to say something like “you’re not old enough to have kids that old” pass and obediently followed my tow. I had no need to start thinking pure thoughts, because I began to think irritated thoughts associated with time resented and spent not alone with a new lover but with people you don’t know and she has the need to show you off to. The girls moved closer together, and Jenny took the silent, assumptive invitation. Somehow, we ended up separated and I became surrounded by two larval babes.

Both stared at me in a way that I predicted I would be subject of a later discussion with lots of drawn out “so” and much giggling.

“This is the squad of cheerleaders I coach at Gil Thorp,” Jenny informed me, before introducing each in turn.

Afterward she added to the girls, “girls, this is Kenny Gamera.”

Since I had spent my time concentrating on wishing we were at another table, alone and otherwise getting to know each other and not being displayed to jailbait, I had no clue of the name of the cute Asian girl who said, “He’s cute. Is he your boyfriend?” let alone any of the others.

Jenny looked right at me, making eye contact.

“Yes.”

Except for two of them in the corner who were too busy glaring at me, the teens started to giggle. A wave of embarrassment with a hint of pride and a slight after taste of utter awkwardness swept over me. The conversation continued around me, while I discovered that, despite my supposed maturity, I could still shift nervously in my seat.

I kept myself distracted by thinking about what Jenny had said, but the joy I felt continually looked over its shoulder. Finally, my thoughts shifted to a few years back. Small, angry memories stomped into my mind causing joy to retreat whimpering into a corner. I felt my hand rubbing along my left leg as the name Gina ran through my head like a broken hearted postal worker with a brand new assault rifle.

“Kenny?”

Jenny stood next to me, with her hand on my shoulder.

Her eyes studied me as if she were trying to find where the exit wound was so she could figure out where the entry wound might be hiding.

“Uh?”

“There’s a table open,” she pointed to where a girl in a red halter top and cut offs stood. Memory suggested that she was late of this table. “Amber is holding it for us.”

I stared up at her for a moment as the more pleasant of my current thoughts gathered themselves into enough force to take the field from those associated with a certain former girlfriend about whom I do not care to discuss at the moment.

“Uh,” and after a short pause, I then added, “okay.”

As I stood, the girl to my right touched my arm. I jumped which generated more concern in Jenny’s look. I quickly pulled on a little composure.

“Yes?”

“Excuse me, Mr. Gamera. But do you play chess?”

Naturally, I replied, “uh?”

“Just wondering.” She looked sheepish and the other girls giggled. “I mean you don’t need to, like, answer or anything. I’m just, you know, curious.”

I marshaled myself enough to give her a blank stare and say ... well you know... ,”uh.”

Jenny in a much better job of not acting not okay.

“Sorry, ladies, I’m afraid pretty girls effect him that way. He should be in better operating condition next time you get to see him.” She grabbed hold of my arm. “Let’s go, Kenny.”

By the time we had reached the table, I had rejoined reality enough that I hoped that she would not ask...

“Are you all right?”

I looked up to confirm that the girl in the red halter had left.

“Yes, I’m fine.” My mouth formed something that one could call a smile if that particular one was generous.

“Pretty girls do that to me.”

Her expression didn’t shout “bullshit” because her voice did it instead.

“Kenny...”

I interrupted, “Jenny, please. Don’t push. I’m trying very hard to impress you, right now. Don’t force me to make you come to your senses.”

She reached out and touched my arm. I looked down and stared at where her fingertips lay on my shirt sleeve.

Then I closed my eyes and begged myself not to cry.

“She hurt the you really badly, didn’t she?”

I shook as the sob I had been trying to hold back made a mad dash to the outside world and racked my body. Willing away tears, I mentally picked on myself. My first date since ... With a woman that I barely knew, but still loved deeply. In a restaurant full of people ... Being watched by a table full of vicious teenagers...

And I fall completely apart.

Real suave, I thought to myself. Real cool. No wonder you’re alone. What woman would ever want a pathetic little boy like you.

I felt her fingers move away from their resting place even as I heard her shuffle from her seat across from me.

I prayed that she wasn’t walking away even as my mind’s eye watched her march to the door. I fought the tears back wondered how I could escape with at least a little dignity.

“Move in,” Jenny whispered into my ear. I felt her body pushed against mine to make room next to me. “Against the wall.”

I complied as she snuggled up against me. Her arm went around my shoulder. Her mouth moved against my ear.

“Don’t worry. No one is watching us,” she told me as she stroked my hair. “You’re okay.”

God help me, but I let go and began to weep. Despite all those rules to which no woman would ever admit existing, I cried as she held me and whispered assurances.

It made things both worse and better as I struggled with the knowledge that this little scene only confirmed. My body inched closer to hers as I craved the feelings of comfort even while I feared my weakness was pushing her away.

How and where and when the feelings passed, I neither know nor care. All that mattered was that, as per normal, they passed. I found myself in a crowded fast food joint, wrapped in a pretty, young school teacher. I opened my eyes and stared at the warm salad, the cold burger, and once shake. Jenny must have noticed my gaze.

“Let’s go. You can follow me to my place.”

“But, Jenny ... I thought you didn’t ... and Kim and Sherry ... I...”

“Fuck that. Fuck them. And fuck you. Preferably all night.” Her hand went to my crotch. “Again.”

I looked up. Surprisingly, few of the teenagers had paid attention to us. Of those who had, most turned away when they noticed that I noticed that they noticed. One who had asshole football star all but written all over him flashed me a thumbs up before returning to his asshole friends.

“Looks like some people may be thinking about us later,” Jenny squeezed my penis through my clothing. “Let’s live what they’re going to be imagining.”