Epilogue 1

Jo stopped her little jeep and scrutinised the badly rutted track I had indicated she should turn up. “Are you going to be okay?” she asked. “I don’t mind walking.”

Although there was no evidence of any lasting problems, to be on the safe side Dr Silverman had prescribed for me a regimen appropriate to someone who had suffered a very serious concussion. Because it was considered impact exercise, I wasn’t even allowed to resume running until after an all-clear at a six-month check-up. Dr Silverman probably wouldn’t be impressed at the jolting I’d get as Jo drove up the badly rutted track

Deep down, Jo and I were confident there wouldn’t be any problems, but we went through the motions to keep up appearances. In any case, less than half an hour earlier, Jo had stopped her jeep beside an empty field.

“We’ve got time for a quickie, haven’t we,” she had pleaded. “Do it hard and fast, I don’t need any foreplay.”

I much preferred a more sensual approach, lots of foreplay and skin-to skin contact. That seemed to deepen the bond between us and we could now each remotely sense the other’s emotional state, as well as direction and distance. I wondered just how much further our bond would develop; telepathy would be nice, so our communication could be private and independent of technology. Unfortunately our opportunities for love-making were strictly limited and often we had to make do with a snatched quickie. “Okay,” I agreed. “Have you got the blanket?”

Jo smiled and retrieved the blanket from the back of the jeep.

Barely seconds later we were on the blanket, screened by a hedge, with me pounding into Jo like a demon while she used her muscular thighs to encourage me ever deeper into her hot, moist, silky canal. If that wasn’t impact exercise, I didn’t know what was!

Afterwards we had lain there for a few minutes, getting our breath back.

“Oops,” said Jo, with her enchanting lopsided smile. “I’ve leaked. I’ll have to wash the blanket again.”

I leaned over and kissed her. “I don’t deserve you.”

“None of that crap,” said Jo. “You deserve me as much as I deserve you, and don’t you forget it.”

“Yes Mum,” I said, rolling my eyes.

Jo rolled on top of me and, holding me down, tried to kiss me to death as punishment. Well that was better than one of the five different ways she knew of breaking someone’s nose. “Are you ready to go again?” she asked, grinding her crotch against me.

“No, I need a few more minutes,” I admitted, although my little trouper was already back to half-hardness. “But have we got time? We don’t have to go there today, there’s always another day. But I thought you wanted to, and the Calhouns are expecting us.”

Jo pulled a sour face. “It’s not so much want as need. I feel I have to do it.” From somewhere she retrieved a tampon which she inserted to plug her leak, after wiping her nether regions on the blanket.

I wiped my slimy cock on the blanket, then folded it and carried it back to the jeep.

With a regretful sigh, Jo had started the vehicle and we resumed our pilgrimage.

The jeep was quite capable of handling the track up the hill. A very early birthday present from her parents, and in her favourite Forest Green colour, the little Japanese vehicle was rugged and practical without being ostentatious, having good reviews for safety and reliability.

My own parents were making me wait for a car, saying that one wasn’t justified at the moment. And even if I was lucky on my birthday, I was certain it wouldn’t stand comparison with Jo’s jeep.

“I’ll be fine,” I said, responding to Jo’s concern about my well-being. “I’m more worried about your jeep. Just take it very slowly: it’s very rough going.”

Jo put the jeep into four-wheel drive and selected crawler mode. Then she turned the vehicle up the track. Jo was a cautious driver, a welcome contrast to the white-knuckle rides with Cayenne.

I had been in hospital another week before I was allowed home, by which time the spells of weakness had disappeared. There was a celebration party on the day my family came to collect me. Dr Maltby, the Silvermans, the agency nurses and various hospital staff shared cake and soft drinks with my family and me. They wished their miracle patient well and asked me to keep in touch.

About three weeks after that, after another evaluation by Dr Silverman, I had been allowed back to school, although with ‘wrapped in cotton wool’ type restrictions in place and Dimitri acting as my minder, his reputation having been much enhanced by his selflessness in protecting me from Jaymon Solassie. The news embargo still seemed to be in place so the school’s official line was that I had been seriously ill. However the Drama Club grapevine had provided a fuller picture and virtually everybody unofficially knew that I had nearly died while rescuing Jo.

It helped that Jaymon Solassie was no longer around. Jaymon wasn’t the sharpest knife in the drawer and was a nasty thug too, but he was intensely loyal and would run through brick walls if ordered. Mr Kafkasian saw a use for him and arranged a deal in which Jaymon signed up for a five year stint with the army, thus avoiding the stigma of expulsion from school. He could even continue playing football when he wasn’t running through brick walls on behalf of the country. Somehow the School Hearing about our altercation with Jaymon never happened and the Suspension Notices had been expunged from Dimitri’s and my school records.

My return to school triggered an invitation to dinner at the Kafkasians’ house. The evening didn’t have an ideal start: Cayenne had been invited too and she had volunteered to collect me on the way. Her electric blue supermini still didn’t have any obvious damage to it, although that did little to assuage my fear of her driving. The frenetic way she drove was enough to ruin any passenger’s appetite, but we somehow arrived safely at our destination. The Kafkasians lived in a dauntingly impressive mansion fronted by an electronic gate. Pressing the intercom button and shouting, “It’s me!” was enough to gain Cayenne access. Thankfully she drove up the long driveway at a more respectful pace.

As soon as I was inside and the introductions had been made, I thanked Mr Kafkasian for all he’d done for me and my family. In return, he proceeded to kidnap me and grill me at length about my future plans. As if someone my age would have their next forty years all neatly mapped out! I got more and more wound up because I wanted to spend time with Jo but Mr Kafkasian seemed to be keeping us apart.

Finally it was announced that dinner was about to be served and we joined the others. Cayenne had been warm and friendly towards me but Marcus was giving me the stink-eye. I had a horrible feeling he’d seen pictures of the prom, perhaps even of Cayenne kissing me. Jo gave me an apologetic smile, obviously regretting the way her father had monopolised my time.

The seminal moment came when we entered the dining room to eat. I had been warned beforehand that it was practice in the Kafkasian household for each diner to stand behind their seat while Mr Kafkasian said a benediction.

Mr Kafkasian stood behind the chair at the head of the table while Mrs Kafkasian stood behind the chair opposite, at the foot of the table. Mr Kafkasian indicated that Marcus and Jo were to sit on one side of the table, with Marcus to his immediate right, and they moved behind their respective chairs. Then he indicated that I was to take the chair to his immediate left, opposite Marcus, leaving Cayenne to sit opposite Jo. Because we were sitting diagonally across from each other, Jo and I couldn’t even play footsie together, not that we had ever played footsie before.

“No,” I objected, before I could stop myself.

Everything in the room seemed to stop. You could have heard a pin drop. Even the catering staff stopped what they were doing to see the consequences.

“Mr Kafkasian,” I said, “I’m not here to apply for a position in one of your companies, I’m here because I want to get to know your amazing daughter better and become her boyfriend. I’d much rather sit next to Joanna and I think she’d like to sit next to me too.”

Joanna gave me a nervous nod of confirmation.

“And I think Marcus and Cayenne would much rather sit next to each other too,” I continued. “I propose we change the seating arrangements accordingly. All those in favour raise their hands.”

I raised my hand. Cayenne immediately followed suit, with Joanna a little behind her. Marcus looked conflicted. I guessed he wanted to sit with his girlfriend but he didn’t want to support me. That made it three against three.

Mrs Kafkasian broke the deadlock. “Well said, young man. Armin, I can remember when you too were young and railed against the injustices in this world.” She raised her hand.