Chapter 11: Wheels

THE FIRST THREE WEEKS of December were typically insane. School would be out on the twenty-first for Christmas break, which meant the last three days we were in school there would be final exams in all my classes. Not only that, I’d promised several of the senior girls that I’d have their photos ready before Christmas. I’d been printing all the previous week and would be printing most of the next two weeks.

I looked at my calendar, meticulously kept up to date by Anna. The whole two weeks was blocked off and marked ‘Darkroom.’ I chuckled at that. Then I saw that right after our break started, the Saturday before Christmas was marked, ‘Anna’s senior photos and Attic Allure.’

She’d asked me to take her pictures after she turned eighteen. I wasn’t sure why she wanted to be sure to wait. Anna wasn’t a model and I wouldn’t be displaying any of her photos, whether nude or clothed. And I really couldn’t imagine Anna posing nude.

I mean, sure I could. I’d imagined her posing nude for me a hundred times. When she started showing up at the studio in a bra and panties this summer, while all the other girls were running around naked or in just their panties, I imagined a lot of things. But I couldn’t believe she’d actually do it. And I sure wouldn’t try to convince her. Still, she’d asked that the time be with only the two of us and none of the other girls hanging around.

I needed to think up a good scene and props for her. I wanted to capture more than the conservative and staid side that wanted to wait until she was seventeen before we kissed. We had waited, by several months. But I wanted to capture the bright and cheerful accounting assistant, the organizational genius who scheduled my photos and time, and the calm and collected director who talked Kent through his rather blatant display of genitalia. Anna had a lot more sides than the one she showed her church.

I spent Friday evening sitting with Chris watching TV and holding her heating pad against her tummy.

“In four weeks, I’ll have my stupid period again, and Monday after that, I want you to cut school with me and go to Dubuque so I can get birth control,” Christine said. “And a month after that, we can make love without a condom. I’m nervous and excited and trembling inside, thinking about you putting your bare penis in my vagina and coming in me. It would be almost like you were getting me pregnant.”

“Does getting pregnant excite you?” I asked.

“Yes. Not like I want to do it now, but someday I’ll want to have a baby grow in my tummy and come out of my vagina. Can you imagine that? A whole baby coming out of where you put your cock in?”

I could imagine it. My cock was pushing at my slacks and I knew Chris was aware of it. She groaned a little.

“You know if I wasn’t feeling so crappy, I’d be sucking you,” she said. “I love having you in me and fucking me, but there’s something about not having latex between us that really thrills me. It’s not like I’m ever going to come from sucking you. It would be cool if I could. But when I get you hard and feel you throbbing in my mouth, it’s such a feeling of ... power, I guess. I suppose you feel like that all the time, just because you get hard like that.”

“I guess so. I never thought of it quite like that. I think I feel more powerful when I make you come until you pass out. When I’m making love to you, I just feel so close to you and so completely in love. I want you in my life forever,” I said.

“Don’t talk about forever, love. It makes me sad. I just know we’ll have to part and then what will we do? Just be mine right now. Love me and let me love you. And Ronda. And ... you know.”

“Yeah. I know.” What was I supposed to say? I was planning a date with Ronda for the next night. It was a bit of a ritual that I fucked Ronda when Chris was out of commission. Even the weekend I’d been out with Roxie, I took Ronda out the night before and we had a terrific time in her bed. I’d love to repeat that. It was so comfortable and relaxed.

And I loved Ronda, too. It was different. I couldn’t really see spending the rest of my life with Ronda, no matter how passionate and loving she was. She was sex personified. Every guy who saw her cheerleading got a hard-on. And I got to go home with her and fuck like bunnies. There wasn’t a position Ronda didn’t want to try, nor a sex act she wasn’t interested in. She liked putting her pussy in my mouth as much as taking my dick in hers. We hadn’t actually done anal, but she loved butt play and I liked doing it.

The thing was that part of what drew Ronda and me together was our mutual love of Christine. Ronda loved girls and me. Christine turned out to be more bisexual than Ronda and I think she’d probably like to screw a couple of other guys in our class. But she’d also shown she wasn’t exclusive to Ronda when she had sex with Lori and with Roxie. The thing was, I didn’t think there was a ghost of a chance that Ronda and I would be together if we weren’t both in love with Christine. So, when Chris broke up with me, that would be the end of Ronda and me, too. I realized that would hurt just as much.

What a fucked-up world.

We celebrated Anna’s eighteenth birthday on Saturday the sixteenth in the studio with a cake and little gifts. As had become traditional, she sat on my lap during the celebration. I did not, however, touch her in any way that would cause an orgasm or even a moment of alarm. She was happy to have my hand on her waist as I held her there. We took no pictures.

Sunday afternoon, Anna joined Christine and Ronda at my house to study for our Senior English final. We were reviewing No Exit when Mom called me to the phone.

“How has the car hunt been?” Uncle Nate asked.

“So far, no luck,” I said. “I really need to pay attention to the Chicago ads earlier in the morning. I’ve called on two that were already sold.”

“Well, I’ve found one. A 1966 VW Kombi. It has two rear seats, but they’re removable so you can use it for cargo or camping. It’s in good condition without as many miles as you might expect for one to be on the market. And we’re looking at only $1700.”

“That sounds great!”

“If you want it, you need to get here this week. I can convince the owner to hold it if you tell me you’re coming.”

“Give me a second to clear it with Mom and Dad,” I said.

I quickly talked it over with Mom and Dad and we decided I could do it if I took the bus. The Chicago route came through town at about nine o’clock in the morning. I told Uncle Nate that I’d get in around three o’clock. Then I went to tell the girls what was going on.

“I bet I can get Dad to give me the wagon and I could drive you,” Chris said.

“That’s kind of you, honey, but I don’t think it’s a good idea. If you drove me into Chicago and I buy a car, you’d have to drive back here alone. You know how long and boring that trip is,” I said reasonably. She pouted a minute.

“I know,” Ronda said. “Why don’t we all catch the bus and then ride back with you?”

Chris was quickly all over that idea. It actually sounded pretty good to me, too.

“Didn’t the ‘63 microbus we saw only have two front seats. I don’t know about the Kombi. And this one is newer, but one of you might have to ride in back,” I said.

“How about it, Anna? Will you go with us so there are two in the back seat?” Chris asked.

“Um ... uh ... No, I don’t think so. This sounds like a trip for girlfriends. I’d just be a wet blanket,” she said.

I didn’t think having Anna along would dampen our fun at all, but the girls couldn’t convince her. Ronda and Chris were in full-fledged planning mode. They were figuring out what we should carry for food and how we should carry blankets, ‘in case the heat doesn’t work.’ Okay. Volkswagens were notorious for having poor heat, so I could see that Chris and Ronda might be cuddled up together in the second row seat under a blanket while I drove.

We got through our finals and were standing on the corner Thursday morning when the Greyhound came around the corner and we waved like mad to flag him down. I’d called in a reservation, but sometimes the drivers just kept rolling through if they didn’t see anyone standing out there.

We each paid the driver our fifteen dollars and made our way toward the back of the almost empty bus. Of course, almost meant that the back seat was full of some guy stretched out full length on it. We stowed our bags overhead as the bus picked up speed out of town and managed to get all three of us into two seats. It wouldn’t be a comfortable ride that way for the whole distance to Chicago, but I figured we’d trade off sitting across the aisle. With Christine on my lap and Ronda beside me alternately kissing me and getting felt up, it was a good way to pass the first hour or so.

We all sort of slept on and off, with one of my hands up under Christine’s shirt and the other under Ronda’s skirt. I’m not sure how I managed it, since I’m not double-jointed, but I had a finger buried in Ronda’s quim when she came. Chris followed soon after with Ronda’s fingers in her panties. Oh, poor me. We ran through the small towns in western Illinois without stopping, so Chris slipped off my lap and managed to wedge herself between the seats. At least a Greyhound bus had more legroom than a school bus. Once she was down there, Ronda helped her fish my cock out of my pants and Chris started sucking on me while I pretended to simply be watching the scenery. I was pretty sure the driver was used to all kinds of fuckery on his bus. At least we were being quiet. The guy stretched out in the back seat by the bathroom never stirred.

We stopped for half an hour in Rockford at a diner that packaged up sandwiches and coffee for us. We had food in one of our bags, but figured we’d probably eat it on the way home. We were back on the bus with about thirty more people from Rockford and more boarding at every little town between there and Chicago. We decided the girls would be safest if they occupied a double seat together and I remained alone in the seat behind them. I avoided having anyone in the same seat until Schaumburg, when all the remaining seats were filled. Fortunately, it was only about forty minutes from there to the bus terminal.

We got our bags down as soon as the guy next to me moved into the aisle and the three of us managed to get off the bus with only minor hassles. At least we didn’t have to grab bags from under the bus when the driver unloaded the luggage compartments. It seemed like most people, though, were traveling pretty light, possibly just coming to Chicago for a night at most. We’d be leaving in a few hours, I hoped.

Uncle Nate was at the station to meet us and the girls got in his back seat and I rode up front. He drove us back the way we’d come about a mile and went into Maplewood. He knew his way and we drove up to a house that had the van sitting in a driveway. It was the classic dove blue and looked shiny.

The Kombi didn’t have all the classic windows that the microbus had. It still had the split screen in front, but only a total of eleven windows instead of twenty-one or twenty-three. But otherwise, it was perfect. It had the side doors on the passenger side with mesh gray seats. I looked the upholstery over and it hardly showed any wear. I couldn’t believe the odometer—only 15,000 miles! This beauty was cherry.

“I really only owe the guy $1,700?” I asked Uncle Nate.

“Fifteen hundred. You owe me two hundred for the money I put down on it so he’d hold it for you.”

“Sold,” I said. The guy filled out the transfer of title and I peeled fifteen $100 bills out of my pocket that I’d gotten out of the bank the day before. As soon as we turned away, I gave Uncle Nate the other two.

“There’s a diner about six blocks from here,” Uncle Nate said. “Gas station, too. Why don’t we get a bite for dinner and make sure you’re full up for the trip home?”

“I’ll follow you,” I said. We loaded the bags into the bus, settled in, and I started it up. It had room for all three of us in front. It was a split seat, but double on the passenger side and single for the driver. I could hardly hear the engine from where it was all the way in the back of the bus. Driving it was a little strange because it drove ... like a bus. The steering column came almost straight up out of the floor. I could work the clutch okay, but the four-on-the-floor transmission gave me a few fits until I figured out the rhythm. I ground the gears a few times. The gear shifter was almost two feet long, running from where I could reach it fairly comfortably, down to the floor. It seemed I ran my hand up Christine’s leg every time I shifted. There was no hump in the middle of the floor. It was flat all the way back to the third row of seats.

It was also a little strange getting used to turning and steering. I was sitting right over the front tires. There was nothing between me and the road but the steering wheel and the split windshield. It was definitely an odd feeling to get used to driving it.

We didn’t dawdle over dinner because we had close to four hours to drive back to Tenbrook and I didn’t want any of our parents to be worried about us. We got out of Chicago about six.

By the time we got home, the girls had figured out that I had perfect seating to take all eight models and crew from the studio to Huntertown the next day for ice cream. That turned into shakes or sodas at Gerties when we realized Dairy Queen was closed for the season. Nine of us in the bus was max capacity. I suppose if my little sister wanted to come along, we could cram her in. If the girls had been guys, they’d have been hanging out the doors. I was interested in trying out other aspects of the van that didn’t involve having the seats in place. It looked like a fairly simple process to fold the seats down. Ronda figured her blowup mattress would cover all the space behind the front seats and curl up at the edges. Christine was already working on curtains for the windows.

First, though, I’d told everyone I was unavailable for the day on Saturday and that the studio was off limits. I had the entire day blocked out to work at as leisurely a pace with Anna as she wanted. She’d already said she wasn’t sure which outfit she should wear for either her senior portrait or her Attic Allure photo. As a result, she’d been bringing clothes over for the past week to leave on the rack. Then she’d spent a lot of the time I was in the darkroom examining the various drops and deciding what she wanted to use for her pictures.

One thing about photographing my regular eight was they knew the studio, the props, and the process. They could develop complete ideas before we ever started. It would be just a little trickier with Anna because we weren’t going to use any helpers to change scenes and props. Anna and I would need to do everything.

Except that. I wasn’t going to cross any lines with Anna. I kept telling myself that. I kind of thought she wanted the studio reserved for the two of us just so everyone else would speculate about what we were doing. I knew, though, that she’d talked it over extensively with Christine and Ronda. I wasn’t worried.

She arrived at eleven and I was set up for her school portrait. She looked happy and ready to work. She immediately went into the dressing room with her rack of clothes and came out a few minutes later in a lovely blue cashmere sweater. She’d obviously had her hair and makeup done to look perfect for her photo. Unfortunately, pulling on a sweater always messes the hair a little. When she was set, I went up to her and smoothed the few stray hairs that had flown away from her carefully styled coiffure. She smiled a radiant smile and I shot her picture. Then I had her pose in a couple of different directions with different expressions on her face. I think the best was when she looked at me and I said, “Ice cream.” Her face lit up with eyes wide open and a beautiful smile.

Of course, Anna had not decided firmly that the blue cashmere was what she wanted for her portrait. We went through the same process with a white blouse, and with a cute plaid shirt. With each outfit, I checked her hair and made sure none of her makeup was smeared. I often touched her cheek or her chin, tilting her head a little and once lightly stroking up from the corner of her mouth to elicit a particular smile. I think what Anna really wanted from her session was personal attention from me, so I tried to give her all of it.

Once the portrait session was done—and it had taken us much longer than I normally allowed for a senior portrait—we sat and looked through the portfolio of Attic Allure images. She commented about what she liked and didn’t like about each one. She seemed especially interested in the bare shoulder shots. The only time I’d seen Anna with bare shoulders was when she sat around in her bra and panties this summer. Even her prom dress had been up to her neck.

“Do you think my shoulders are pretty enough to do a photo like this?” she asked, pointing at a photo that showed a girl’s shoulders down as far as I could crop it without showing her nipples. Anna was getting a little worked up, I thought. I put my hands on her shoulders and turned her toward me.

“Anna, you are pretty enough that I could make a beautiful photo in anything you wanted to wear or not wear. You never have to worry about being pretty enough,” I said. “The question is, do you really want a photo that is so ... daring? You were there when I took this photo and you know Jennifer wasn’t wearing anything on top.”

Anna leaned toward me and lay her head on my shoulder.

“I wouldn’t be able to show a picture like that to anyone but you,” she whispered. “And maybe one day to my husband. I doubt if anyone else would ever see me topless. I’ve always been such a goody-two-shoes that sometimes it builds up a lot of wickedness trying to get out of me. I felt so evil when I was posing Kent. All I really wanted was to see his cock get erect and I didn’t have to do anything to get it there. You did all the work.”

“All I did was stand behind the camera.”

“That was all it took. One time in school, a couple of years ago, I noticed the middle button on my blouse had come undone. When I sat in class and leaned forward, my blouse gapped open. I saw Tom glancing my way and I just ignored the button until after class was over. I’m sure he could see my bra. And this summer when all your girls were running around naked, I wore just my underwear. And when I knew you noticed, I went out and bought a matching bra and panties that would um ... show more. I suppose all that sounds like nothing to you because you have beautiful girlfriends who run around naked and you can touch and ... stuff. And you have beautiful models from Chicago who drive three hours just to take off their clothes so you can photograph them. I’m still just a little prude.”

“I don’t think anyone thinks of you as a prude anymore,” I laughed. “You’ve shown us all that you are playful and want to make others comfortable. That doesn’t require being naked.”

“But I want to.” She heaved a huge sigh. “That’s what today is really all about. I want to act out my wickedness and not have any consequences. I know that sex is forbidden in the studio and you are careful to never cross that line. But sexiness is what the studio is all about. And that’s a line I want to cross.”