Chapter 1: A Day in the Life of Michael Peter Loucks

May 22, 1981, West Monroe, Ohio

"I'm really sorry," April Nash said, her head resting on my chest.

"It's OK. I understand. I promise."

"You're going away," she sighed. "But I'm only sixteen, and I wasn't ready."

"I know," I soothed. "I told you last night it was OK."

"But you paid for the motel room!" she protested.

"Whatever," I said dismissively. "We spent the night here instead."

"Your Senior Prom night. On a small hill in Ulysses S. Grant Park."

"With my steady girlfriend, whom I love."

April took a deep breath and let it out. And then another.

"I could, uh, do something for you," she said shyly.

"It's not necessary," I said gently, fighting the urge to allow her to do something I was positive I wanted.

"I want to," she whispered. "But I don't know how. I've never given a, uh, uhm, blowjob before."

"I've never received one, either," I said with a grin she couldn't see.

"I've never even seen one before and never touched one."

Not even through my jeans, despite my encouragement that she do so.

"That's OK; no girl has seen it since I was in diapers! And nobody has touched it but me!"

"Do you do that?" she asked. "You know?"

I did. What else was I going to do? I was eighteen, and the closest I'd come to sex was feeling April's firm breasts through her shirt! Despite repeated but careful attempts, she'd never let me go further. I'd been surprised when she'd agreed to me reserving a motel room for Prom night. I'd been disappointed when, after the dance, she'd told me she couldn't go through with it. I'd offered the park as an option, knowing that the nice weather and a secluded spot would allow us to be together undisturbed.

My plan for Prom had only worked out because of dumb luck. Her dad, a widower, had been called out of town on business, leaving her alone for the week. Her older sister, Cassie, who was eighteen, had simply smirked and said she wouldn't tell. Cassie and I had dated briefly in ninth grade but had never really hit it off. We were friends, but beyond a pair of goodnight kisses, nothing had happened between us.

That was the story of my life so far — date a girl for a few months, get a few good night kisses, and have the odd make-out session, but that was it. I was eighteen and had never so much as touched, let alone seen a bare breast. West Monroe was a quiet, conservative town in southwestern Ohio, and despite all the stories I heard from kids who lived in other towns, our school was not the hotbed of sexual activity that, say, Milford High School allegedly was.

I'd heard about that school during a regional chess tournament when some girl from near Cincinnati had talked about a guy who had invented something they called 'strip chess'. I had no idea what the rules were, but that hadn't stopped me from trying to no avail, to convince the two girls on our chess team to play with me. I'd never met the guy who invented it because he had more or less quit playing not long afterwards. Supposedly, he'd moved overseas, which suggested he was in a military family.

I had met April on the first day of Senior year. I'd bumped into her walking into the building while talking to my best friend, Dale, about what we'd done over the Summer. He'd been traveling with his parents, and I hadn't seen as much of him as I usually would have. I wasn't paying attention and literally walked right into April. I'd apologized, helped her pick up her books, and we'd exchanged a look. At Dale's encouragement, I'd found her at lunch and struck up a conversation.

That's when I discovered that she was Cassie's little sister. She didn't remember me, which wasn't a surprise because I'd only taken her sister on three dates before we called it quits, and I'd never actually met April back then. Despite my having dated her older sister, she agreed to a date the following Friday. A few weeks later, I gave her my class ring, which she had to wrap with thread to keep from slipping off her finger. We'd been a couple ever since. There was a lot of kissing, and eventually, I'd been allowed to place my hand on her small breast, but I was never allowed to go any further. And that's what led to 'touching myself' as April had just asked.

"I do," I admitted. "It's pretty common for guys."

"And that's my fault?" she asked.

I laughed softly, "Only partly. The joke is that teenage boys get boners from a slight breeze! And I don't think that's much of an exaggeration!"

"I'll, uh, do that if you want," she said shyly.

I was already rock hard from her previous offer, uncomfortably so. There was no doubt in my mind that she could see the outline of my erection if she looked. It had to be obvious, even to someone as innocent as April. I wanted her ruby lips on me so bad; I almost lost it just thinking about it. Several deep breaths kept things under control. Just.

"It can wait," I said. "Until you're really ready."

"But you're going away to school! I don't want to lose you to some college girl!"

"I'll only be about forty-five minutes away! I have my Mustang, so I'll be able to come home whenever I want to."

I was going to William Howard Taft University in McKinley, Ohio, due east of West Monroe. I'd be studying pre-med, and then I'd be going to medical school. After medical school, I hoped to get into a program that would let me train in trauma — working in the ER. But between now and then, I had four years of university, the MCAT, four years of medical school, the dreaded 'Match', and an Internship.

Truth be told, between continuing my karate training, playing chess, and going to school, I wouldn't have much time to do anything else. Even coming home on weekends was going to have to be limited because I'd need to work to earn my spending money. Mom and Dad were paying for college, but as with their rule about my car and insurance, I'd have to work for anything extra.

"You won't give me up for some cute college girl?"

"I love you, April. That's why you don't need to do anything you aren't ready to do."

On the other hand, I was ready! And not just for the tentatively offered blowjob, but for sex. I'd been ready for years but had never found a willing partner. And it sure wasn't for lack of trying! The problem was, I didn't want to lose April because she did something she'd regret or would upset her. I felt like Pinto in Animal House, a movie Dale and I had snuck into when it was in the theatre, with an angel on each shoulder giving me contradictory advice.

And speaking of angels, what would my priest say? Father Herman Alexandrov of Holy Transfiguration Orthodox Church would NOT approve of the thoughts in my head. He certainly disapproved of me fondling April's breasts, which I'd reluctantly revealed in confession after it had first happened. As Head Acolyte, I was supposed to be setting a good example for the younger men. The challenge was that hormones and 'setting a good example' did NOT go hand-in-hand!

"Let me, please," she whispered. "To show you how much I love you."

And that was either exactly the right or wrong thing to say, depending on what my goal was. I gently sat up and turned April to face me. I was going to regret what I was going to say next, but I couldn't let her do it. Not for THAT reason.

"You do not have to show me that way, April. You really don't."

"You don't want me to?" she asked, blushing slightly.

Oh, I did. I VERY much did. But not this way. Not here. Not as some sort of proof of her love that did not need to be proved. I put my arms around her and looked deeply into her eyes.

"I love you, April. When you're ready, we'll do everything. When you're ready."

I was already regretting the words as they left my mouth, but I also knew it was the right thing to do. And that was what I strived to do — the right thing. To never hurt anyone if I could help it, to do my best to make people I loved happy, and to be a true friend. It wasn't easy, but it did make life satisfying. I wasn't perfect by any means, but I did my best.

I kissed April softly, and she kissed me back.

"I guess you should take me home. Cassie will be looking for me, and Dad is supposed to be home about noon."

We stood up and walked back to my black Ford Mustang. I'd bought it used after my Sophomore year, using money I'd earned mowing lawns, doing yard work, and any other odd jobs I could find. When I'd turned sixteen, I'd taken a job at the local hardware store, stocking shelves, filling orders, and running the cash register. That paid for gas, insurance, and my dates and let me save a bit of money. Fortunately, my parents paid for karate, along with my chess club and tournament fees.

I'd started karate just after I turned fourteen. I'd figured out I simply wasn't good enough at baseball to play in High School, wasn't tall enough for basketball, wasn't big or fast enough for football, and hated the idea of being on the track team. I didn't mind jogging, which I did three times a week at the behest of my karate instructor, but beyond that, I had zero interest in running.

I drove April home, kissed her goodbye with one of our usual closed-mouth kisses, and then headed home to our four-bedroom tri-level house.

"Mike?" my mom called out. "Is that you?"

"Yes, Mom. I just dropped April at home."

"Did you have a good time?"

What to say to my mom? Rachel Loucks, as everyone except me and my little sister Elizabeth called her, was a typical conservative Russian Orthodox mom. She was born to two Russian immigrants but married my dad, Peter, who was what you'd probably call a mutt. He knew of relatives from England, France, Germany, Italy, and the Netherlands. Mom knew I'd planned to stay out all night but didn't know exactly what I'd planned. And that was probably a good thing.

"April and I went to Grant Park after the dance. We talked and fell asleep under the stars."

"You behaved like a gentleman? Nothing you need to talk to Father Herman about?"

"Yes, Mom," I sighed. "A perfect gentleman."

"I know it's tough, Mike. But you'll find there's a lot less trouble if you behave like a gentleman than otherwise."

"That's good advice, Son," I heard my dad say from behind me.

"I've heard this lecture a million times," I sighed. "I'm going to take a shower."

"I think Liz is in the bathroom," he said. "Have some breakfast first."

"You're lucky we're in the Feast before Pentecost!" Mom declared. "How about some bacon and eggs? And juice."

The fact that it was the 'Feast' meant I could dispense with the usual Wednesday and Friday fasting rule we followed. No animal products of any kind were permitted on those days. At this point, after eighteen years, I was so used to it that I didn't even think about it. I just glanced at the Church calendar on the fridge each morning, and if the square was pink, I knew it was a fasting day. If it was white, I knew it was a non-fasting day.

"Sure. And some tea, please. That Russian stuff you have from Grandpa."

"Coming right up!"

She had breakfast on the table for me about ten minutes later, and after a brief before-meal prayer, I started eating.

"Hi, Mikey!" my little sister said when she came into the kitchen.

She knew I hated being called 'Mikey', and she did it simply to get my goat. I'd told her to stop so many times I knew it was useless to protest. To my family, I was Mikhail Petrovich Loucks, though my birth certificate read 'Michael Peter'. My sister was Elizaveta Petrovna Loucks, though her birth certificate read 'Elizabeth Petra'. I was named for our maternal grandfather and my sister for our maternal grandmother, with our dad's name supplying different forms for our middle names.

"Hi, Lizzy!" I sneered in response.

After she started calling me 'Mikey', I simply started calling her 'Lizzy', though I always altered my pronunciation of the 'i' to sound more like an 'e'. But not quite enough for Mom and Dad to get upset. There was no way that implication was true; that much was certain. My little sister was the object of lust for every single male in a twenty-mile radius, save me and my dad. The rest of our extended family lived outside that radius, as did our priest.

She was gorgeous, and the main problem was she knew it. She had a reputation as a major tease, and her behavior fit exactly with her favorite song, Dancing Queen by ABBA, though she was only fifteen, not seventeen.

ABBA was, at best, OK. I strongly preferred REO Speedwagon, Styx, The Who, Billy Joel, and my dad's Beatles and Rolling Stones albums. I also listened to a bit of Siouxsie and the Banshees and The Cure, suggested by a British exchange student who'd been in our school the previous year.

"Dad, don't forget we need to be at the school at 4:30pm this afternoon for graduation," I said as I finished my breakfast.

"How could I forget my eldest and only son's graduation?" he said in mock outrage.

"Just making sure!" I said with a smile. "I need to shower, dress, and get to the hardware store. I'll be home by 3:30pm."

School had finished on Wednesday for Seniors, and I'd started working full-time at the hardware store again on Thursday. I needed to make as much money as I could over the Summer to tide me over until I found a job in McKinley. Mr. Orlov and my grandfather, Mikhail Ivanovich Borodin, knew several people in McKinley, and I hoped that they could help me find a job that I could work around my class schedule.

"I bet it was HARD last night," Liz said sotto voce.

But not quite soft enough to escape my mom's hearing, which at times seemed uncanny.

"Elizaveta Petrovna Loucks!" my mom said in a stern voice, reprimanding her.

I simply ignored both of them and went to take my shower. A bit of Irish Spring soap and Head & Shoulders shampoo, and I felt clean enough for the day. I brushed my teeth, put on my Brut deodorant, slipped on my robe, and went across the hall to my room to dress. Ten minutes later, I kissed my mom goodbye and headed out to my car to drive the five miles to the hardware store. I parked in my usual spot and went inside.

"Morning, Mr. Orlov," I said to Ivan Orlov, my grandfather's best friend, who owned the store.

"Good morning, Mikhail Petrovich! How was your dance last night?"

"A lot of fun! What do you need me to do today?"