Chapter 27: Saturday, Sept. 8

The ride home was uneventful, if unpleasant. Between hunger pangs, the chill of the air conditioning (I really should have worn more than shorts and a T-shirt) and the inability to find a comfortable position in my seat, I never really got into a deep sleep. I dozed in and out, but would come wide awake at the slightest disturbance.

Bumps in the road were bad enough. Several guys cramping up and crying out was even worse. Teammates and a couple of assistant coaches did their best to help those afflicted. All the trainers, student and otherwise, were riding in the SUVs.

What really pissed me off was Jed slept like a baby the whole way. His snoring just added to the scene.

We pulled into the fieldhouse parking lot a little after 5:30 a.m., a good hour and a half later than planned, and staggered off the bus. At least I remembered to grab my backpack out of the overhead bin. We schlepped our equipment bags into the locker room and began loading up the laundry bags. I held my breath as much as I could throughout the process. My uniform was already souring.

After making sure pads, gloves and helmet were properly stowed in my locker, I changed back into the khakis I’d worn to school Friday. They weren’t exactly fresh, but they were warmer than shorts. I took comfort in knowing we wouldn’t face another trip like this until at least the third round of the playoffs. That would be late November and shorts would not even be a consideration by then.

Arturo Benavidez headed past me looking as bad as I felt, but he gave me an idea.

“Hey, Artie,” I called out, “is Tia Connie cooking breakfast today?”

“No, but one of my relatives will be,” he said. “We’ll be open by the time you can get there.”

I shouldered my backpack and headed for the door. Morgan and her geek pals were among a small crowd waiting outside. It was still more than an hour to sunrise and the predawn darkness was pleasantly cool.

“Do you need a ride home?” I asked, greeting her with a hug.

“The boys are going to give me a lift,” she said. “I’m ready to get home and get to bed. Thanks for the footrub. Will you be around this weekend? I might need you to give me another one.”

“I’ll be at the apartment,” I said. “Staci wants to go to a dance tonight, but I don’t have any plans for Sunday. Just call me if you need me.”

With a quick smooch, Morgan sent me on my way. I dropped the backpack in the passenger seat of the Beemer and started across town to Familia Benavidez. I needed some huevos con chorizo.

The restaurant was the emptiest I’d ever seen it, but it was just a few minutes after opening on a Saturday. I guess the construction crews that usually made up most of the breakfast crowd had the day off.

One breakfast burrito and a glass of pineapple juice later, I was on my way to Arlene’s. The sky was getting lighter as I pulled into my parking spot, grabbed the backpack and made my way to the apartment. The door was unlocked and I could hear Marie in the kitchen as I walked in.

“It’s me,” I called out, setting my bag in the easy chair.

“Daddy!” she squealed. “I missed you! Did you have a good trip?”

Marie came out of the kitchen clad in one of my dress shirts and nothing else. She’d done up a couple of buttons, but there was still plenty of skin on display.

“We won and nobody drowned, so I guess it was good,” I said as I collected a kiss.

“I was just starting breakfast,” she said. “Do you want any?”

“I’m good,” I said. “I stopped off and grabbed a bite on my way over. I just want to crash. I didn’t get much sleep on the bus.”

“Then get to bed,” she ordered. “I’ll try to keep the noise down.”

With another kiss, she pushed me toward the bed and went back to preparing her meal. I stripped down to my boxers and crawled in, pulling the light bedspread over me. I was out almost as soon as my head hit the pillow.

I don’t know how long I slept, but it was restful. I felt Marie spooned up against me with an arm draped over my chest.

“Good morning,” I croaked. “Or afternoon, as the case may be.”

“It’s a little after 11, so it’s still morning,” she grinned. “Tell me about the game. I tried to listen on the radio, but I didn’t really understand what they were talking about. I fell asleep during the delay. I woke up around midnight and the game was over. What happened?”

I told her of the events, weather delays and screwy plays.

“I don’t know which was worse,” I said, “waiting through the delays or standing out in the rain.”

After trying to explain some of the football terms to her, I could tell Marie still didn’t understand what I was talking about.

“We can watch some of the college games on TV and maybe I can make it a little clearer for you,” I said. “Right now, I need to go to the bathroom.”

I groaned as I tried to roll out of bed. I was pretty stiff and could still feel the hit I’d taken.

“Are you hurt?” Marie asked with a note of alarm.

“Just sore,” I moaned. “The last thing I needed was to be cooped up on a bus for five hours after the game.”

I walked stiffly to the bathroom and took care of business, then stepped into the tub and got the water going. The hot spray felt wonderful and I just stood there letting it hit my back for what seemed like hours. When the water started to cool, I hurried to soap up, scrub and rinse before it got cold.

Marie squeezed through the door and grabbed a couple of towels off the shelf as I stood at the sink studying my hair in the mirror. It fully covered my head, but would still be a few more weeks before I could put a part in it.

I brushed my teeth, but decided to hold off on shaving until time to get ready for my date with Staci. I was feeling almost human when I stepped out into the apartment with a towel around my waist.

Marie was waiting for me with a row of bottles lined up on the dresser and towels laid out on the bed.

“Lay face-down,” she commanded. “I’ll give you a massage.”

I followed my orders and waited as Marie got ready. She did that by removing my shirt.

“Don’t want to get any massage oil on it,” she giggled. “Those stains are hard to get out.”

The little waif yanked off my towel, climbed on the bed to straddle my legs and squirted some oil on my back. Her pubic hair tickled my butt as she scooted up to reach my shoulders.

“I normally use a massage table for Mrs. Jenson,” she said, “but I think this will work just fine.”

Marie began kneading my neck, shoulders and back as I groaned happily and melted into the mattress. I could feel the knots in my muscles loosening under her touch. She really was quite an accomplished masseuse.

After going over my back, she worked her way down my arms. I don’t think she sucked Arlene’s fingers the way she did mine, but I wasn’t going to complain. Scooting down past my butt, she worked on my glutes, thighs and calves, causing more wonderful sensations.

Marie got off the bed and ordered me to roll over on my back. Evidence of my response to her efforts was sticking straight out as I changed positions.

“That muscle looks especially stiff,” she smirked as she climbed astraddle my belly. “I’ll take care of that in a little bit.”

Marie squirted some more oil on my chest and began working her way down the front of my body. She shifted down my body until she bumped into my erection. Reaching behind her, she gave me wink and a slow stroke with an oily hand.

Lifting up and over the obstruction, she worked on my abdomen, hips and thighs. I was just about ready to go all caveman on her little ass when she shifted back down my shins, leaned over and began massaging my cock with her tongue, causing me to groan quite happily.

After a bit of oral attention, she moved again, lifting up and impaling herself as she began massaging me with her vaginal muscles.

“Welcome home, Daddy,” she gasped as I reached full penetration.

I think this massage had become as much about Marie’s satisfaction as mine.

I just lay there enjoying the sensations as she squeezed, rolled, bumped and ground her way to completion. I wasn’t far behind as she slumped to my chest. I gripped a buttock in each hand and began thrusting while she whimpered and shook atop me. With one more groan, I unloaded into her depths.

We lay there panting after the fact, Marie plastered to my torso. I loved the feel of her perky A cups pressing into my chest. I was in no hurry to move, but she eventually stirred.

“I think we both need a shower now,” she said, stretching to reach the box of tissues on the nightstand.

“I feel amazing,” I said as she got off me. “Where’d you learn to do that?”

“Julia had me take a course a few years ago,” Marie said. “She liked the idea of getting a massage whenever she wanted instead of having to make an appointment. If I had taken the state exam, I could have become a licensed massage therapist.”

“You should look into that,” I said. “Unless you just want to be Arlene’s housekeeper.”

I got up and followed Marie into the bathroom. The water heater had had plenty of time to recharge and we were soon washing away the massage oil, sweat and come. Marie paid special attention to making sure my dick was clean.

“Careful,” I said as she played with it like a favorite toy. “Staci said you have to leave some for her tonight. You’re going to have to stay in your own room while she’s here.”

“I know,” she pouted. “But I’ll get to have you all day tomorrow.”

I made sure the little waif’s tits and tushy were squeaky clean, but we managed to finish up before I disappointed Staci.

“I need to run home for a bit,” I said as I pulled on a fresh pair of boxers. “Why don’t we get some lunch? We can run some errands while we’re out.”

Marie eagerly agreed and reached for a house dress hanging from the clothes bar. She’d moved quite a bit of clothing out here.

“Bra and panties,” I reminded her. “You’ll be out in public and my folks might be home.”

That took the edge off her eagerness, but she complied.

I dressed for comfort — cargo shorts, T-shirt, deck shoes — and made sure I had what I needed. While Marie stepped into the bathroom to touch up her hair, I pulled the laptop out and plugged it in just to be sure it had a full charge the next time I needed it.

Leaving the AC running, we locked up and headed out about 12:15. The weather had cleared enough that I felt comfortable putting the top down. I let Marie pick where to eat and she selected a little sandwich shop she’d discovered not too far away.

“They bake their own bread and it’s delicious,” she said.

Their sandwiches came in three sizes on round buns — small, medium and bigger than your head. The really large ones could feed four normal people, or one of our offensive linemen.

We decided to split a medium, which was still plenty big. That and a couple of sides would be enough to get us through the afternoon. Staci wanted to eat early enough to get to the dance and Marie could fix something at the apartment at any time.

After eating, we headed for the house. Grandma’s Rover was parked in a position that blocked the carport and garage, forcing me to pull back out front. I helped Marie out of the Beemer and checked the front door, which was still locked.

I let us in to find a flurry of activity. Apparently, Grandma and the ladies had hit a Walmart last night to get sweatpants and T-shirts to use as sleepwear and worn that home. They’d all packed a change of clothes in anticipation of staying at the farm, but were in too much of a hurry to get on the road this morning to pull the bags out.

Mom had all the outfits from last night — they’d all worn Mighty Blue T-shirts and denim shorts, pants or skirts — in the wash and everyone had changed into fresh clothes while waiting on their laundry.

“I didn’t expect to see you today,” Mom said when we walked in. “Hello, Marie. What time did you boys get in?”

“About 5:30,” I said. “I slept at the apartment for four or five hours. I need to get some things for my date tonight, then we’re going to check on Marie’s car. I’m providing her transportation until it’s ready.”

“Karen and Kacie took the scenic route back, but everyone else is here,” Mom said. “Come in and say hello.”

I introduced Marie to my grandparents, Aunt Patty and my cousins. Kirsten scowled, seeming to sense more competition, but Grandma took to Marie like she was another granddaughter.

“Go do what you have to do, Gary,” Grandma said. “Marie and I can visit while she waits.”

Having been dismissed, I went to my room and started digging through my closet. The boots were next to my FootJoys and the jeans were stacked on the upper shelf. I took it as a good sign that the newest pair was on top of the stack. I’d gotten them back in the spring, so they should still fit.

I closed the door and tried the jeans on just to be sure. They were a little tight in the thighs and butt, but I could get them zipped and buttoned without too much trouble. At least I was able to breathe.

I dove back in the closet and found an appropriate belt, which had been a Christmas gift from Grandma and Grandpa last year. It was tooled leather, but didn’t have a buckle the size of a hubcap. Grandpa called it a “rancher’s belt.”

The crowning touch was a Buchanan Feed & Seed gimme cap I’d gotten a couple of summers back while visiting the farm. If this was a country dance as I suspected, the cap would fit in. There were just enough sweat stains to show wear without being gross.

I was going through my sock drawer for a pair to wear with the boots when Kirsten burst in without knocking. If she was hoping to catch me in my skivvies, she was disappointed.

“Who’s that girl?” my little cousin demanded as I sat on the bed to pull on the socks. As tight as the jeans were, it took some effort.

“Mrs. Jenson’s housekeeper,” I said. “I’m house sitting this week while Mrs. Jenson is on a business trip. Marie’s car is in the shop and I’m her ride until it’s ready.”

Kirsten didn’t look like she was buying it.

“She can’t be your girlfriend,” my cousin insisted. “You’ve already got too many girlfriends.”

“How many girlfriends do you think I have?” I asked, trying not to smirk.

“Too many,” Kirsten repeated. “Kacie says you could have bajillions if you wanted.”

“Well, I don’t want that many,” I said, losing the battle against the smirk. “I have some friends who are girls and we like to do things together.”

“Like kissing?” she demanded.

Among other activities, but Kirsten didn’t need to know that.

“You need to get out of here so I can change clothes,” I said. “I just wanted to make sure these jeans still fit.”

“Do they?” Mom asked, sticking her head through the doorway.

I pulled on the boots, tugged my pants legs down over the tops and stood up to await my mother’s critique.

“And what is this for?” Mom asked as she looked me over.

“Staci wants to go to a dance somewhere,” I said. “This is what she told me to wear.”

“They look a little tight, but I guess they’ll get you through an evening,” Mom said. “Don’t sneeze. We should probably get you a size bigger in the waist if you plan on wearing jeans more often. What kind of shirt are you going to wear?”

“Probably an Oxford cloth,” I said. “I can always roll up the sleeves if it’s too hot.”

“How are the boots?”

“They feel OK,” I said as she leaned down to mash on the toes and squeeze the sides. “I don’t think I’ve changed shoe size in more than a year.”

“Probably more like two,” Mom said. “Come on, Kirsten. Let’s give Gary some privacy so he can change.”

I quickly got back into the cargo shorts and deck shoes, rolled up the jeans with the belt through the loops and stuffed the socks into a boot before rejoining my family. Marie looked none the worse for wear and was chatting with my sister, who’d arrived with Aunt Karen while I was rooting around in my closet.

Kacie had a knowing grin as she gave me a hug.

“You should ask Aunt Karen about our trip home,” she said just loud enough to attract everyone’s attention.

Our aunt blushed furiously and stared daggers at her traveling companion.

“Anything we should know, Kay-Kay?” Grandpa asked, rather sternly, I thought.

“I got pulled over,” Aunt Karen grumbled.

“Three times in three different counties,” Kacie added a little too cheerfully.

“But I wasn’t speeding or driving in an unsafe manner,” Aunt Karen stated. “Two of them said they thought the dealer tag had expired. I guess we were the only car on that road today. I should’ve just stayed on the interstate.”

“Did you have the top down?” I asked.

“Yes, but what would that have to do with it?” my aunt replied.

I guess our local state trooper wasn’t the only badge around with a thing for blonde babes in convertibles. At least they weren’t wearing bikinis. They probably wouldn’t be halfway home yet under those circumstances.

With the latest family crime spree solved, I made my farewells, collected hugs from all the females and headed for the door with Marie in tow. I held the car door for her, then stuffed the boots, jeans and cap in the trunk.

“Your aunt is the one Mrs. Jenson and Mrs. Metzger want to take to Europe?” Marie asked as we buckled in.

“Aunt Karen,” I said. “The younger one. Aunt Patty, the one with the two girls, works at the club with Mom.”

“Tell Aunt Karen to stay out of Italy,” Marie said. “She couldn’t take two steps in Milan without receiving a marriage proposal or a modeling contract.”

It took a few minutes to get over to Redwood and make our way to Dietrich Automotive. The news we received upon our arrival was not good. Mr. Dietrich, David’s father, dealt with us personally in his little office. I was surprised he was working on a Saturday. You’d think being the owner’s son would have some advantages.

“To be honest, it’d be cheaper to just buy another vehicle,” he said. “I’m surprised it even made it down here. The engine’s a complete mess — cracked valves, warped cylinders, burnt rings — and the transmission’s about shot. The starter and alternator need replacing, too. We couldn’t do it for less than $5,000.”

“I only paid $1,000 for it,” Marie said. “It was the only thing available in Elk City that I had enough cash for.”

“If you drove that thing down here from Elk City, you got more out of it than you should have,” Mr. Dietrich said.

“What would you recommend, sir?” I asked.

“I’ve got a buddy with a used lot a couple of miles down the road, here,” he said. “He should have something dependable in your price range. How far do you usually drive in a week, young lady?”

“Not much,” Marie admitted. “Grocery shopping was my longest trip, but Gary told me that chain has a store here in town. Most of my other errands — picking up dry cleaning and that kind of stuff — don’t even take 10 minutes a day. I probably won’t even leave the city limits.”

“Tell ya what I’ll do,” Mr. Dietrich said. “I’ll give you $500 cash for the Honda right now. That’s probably more than you’d get from a junk yard for parts. I’ll fix it up for Dave. He needs something to get around in. That ought to cover a down payment with Bob McCloskey.”

“Sounds like the best offer we’re going to get today,” I said. “Do you have the title, Marie?”

“It’s in the glovebox with the registration,” she said.

“I’ll have one of the guys go get it,” Mr. Dietrich said, picking up the phone handset. “Are there any personal items in the vehicle?”

“No,” Marie said. “It doesn’t have a tape deck or CD player, so I just left all that boxed up.”

A few minutes later, one of the employees handed Mr. Dietrich the title. Marie signed it and received five crisp Franklins in exchange.

“Pleasure doin’ business with ya,” Mr. Dietrich said. “I’d appreciate it if you didn’t mention this to Dave, Gary. I’d like it to be a surprise. Good game last night.”

“Thank you, sir,” I said shaking his hand. “Come on, Marie, let’s go car shopping.”

Following Mr. Dietrich’s directions, we headed farther down Redwood until we saw a sign for McCloskey Motors. Mr. McCloskey himself was waiting for us as I pulled into the lot.

“You must be the young couple James Dietrich just called about,” he said before I could even get out of the car. “Bob McCloskey.”

“Yes, sir,” I said, shaking another hand. “Gary Robinson.”

I was reminded of Dad’s line about counting your fingers after shaking hands with lawyers and used car salesmen, but Mr. Dietrich had assured me this fellow was honest and an avid fan of the Mighty Blue, to boot.

“What can I interest you folks in today?” Mr. McCloskey asked.

“This is Marie Benson,” I said, helping her out of the car. “She works as a live-in housekeeper for a friend of mine. She needs something to run errands in, but she’s on a tight budget at the moment. Grocery shopping is probably the biggest chore, so she’ll need a little cargo space, but not much.”

“Let’s see what we’ve got,” he said, leading us through the lot.

The first few offerings were less than two years old and priced at more than $15,000. That was well beyond Marie’s budget for at least two more months, longer if she rolled over the investment with George Patterson. Mr. McCloskey kept up the chatter as he led us to another row.

“That’s a nice little roadster,” he said. “Mind if I ask what it cost you?”

“Fifty dollars,” I grinned, “plus TT&L.”

At his disbelieving look, I launched into the story of the Memorial Day scramble.

“That was my share of the entry fee,” I said.

“I saw that in the paper,” he said. “That was you?”

“Yes, sir.”

Then a look of realization hit him.

“Wait, you’re the Robinson boy on the football team!” he exclaimed. “That touchdown last week was a heckuva play, and then you recovered the onside kick. Sorry I didn’t make it last night, but that was just too long of a trip. Sounded like a good game on the radio. I’ve already got my tickets for next week. I can’t wait to see the Mighty Blue play in that NFL stadium.”

“Thank you, sir,” I said. “I hope we can make it worth your time.”

“I’m sure you will,” he said.

As we talked, Marie continued to look around. She seemed enamored with another Honda hatchback. It looked like the same model as the one Mr. Dietrich had taken off her hands, maybe a couple of years newer and with a better paint job. The sticker price — $4,999 — was just about the top end of what she could afford.

“Now this little honey just came in last week,” Mr. McCloskey said, quickly slipping into sales mode. “It was a high school graduation present for a young lady to take to college, so it’s got some mileage on it. She upgraded after she earned her degree this summer and got a good job out west.

“Jim Dietrich himself checked it out for me and made a couple of little fixes, nothing major. It’s got a five-speed stick, factory air and a nice stereo with a CD player. Power steering and breaks, but not locks or windows. I’m asking $500 down and 36 months on the balance.”

Marie thought hard. It would eat up almost all her available savings. If it was in good shape and she took care of it, it would easily last a couple of years even if she drove to the city and back every day.

The offer of a test drive pretty much hooked her.

“Just a moment, let me get the keys,” Mr. McCloskey said as he headed for the little portable building that served as his headquarters.

I elected to wait at the lot as they took the little hatchback for a spin. They were gone about 15 minutes. Marie’s eyes were shining as she got out and handed the keys back to the salesman.

“Are we ready to dicker?” he asked.

“What can you do for me if we put $1,500 down?” I asked.

“I bet I can come up with something,” he said. “Let’s step inside so I can run the numbers.”

Mr. McCloskey was willing to knock $500 of the asking price, which would more than cover TT&L, for the extra cash down. It worked out that monthly payments would be about half Marie’s pay, but she hadn’t been spending even a tenth since she started working for Arlene. Payments would start Oct. 1. The insurance shouldn’t be appreciably more than she was already paying, but it was a newer car.

As long as nothing went wrong for the next 60 days, Marie would be able to pay it off by the end of the year. If she rolled over her investment and things went the way Mr. Patterson envisioned, this would be the last used car she’d ever have to buy.

Marie forked over the cash she’d received from Mr. Dietrich and I pulled out my debit card. I had enough cash for this evening as long as Staci didn’t want to eat at Morton’s.

With all the paperwork in order, Mr. McCloskey handed Marie the keys to her new car. She felt confident enough that she could get back to Arlene’s without me, but I promised not to get too far behind her. With a kiss on the cheek to both me and Mr. McCloskey, she climbed in, buckled up and waited for traffic to clear to head home.

I was just about to climb into the Beemer and follow when Mr. McCloskey took me by the arm.

“I didn’t realize she was Julia Fairchild’s pet until we got to talking during the test drive,” he said quietly. “I won’t cause any trouble for you, but you’d better get that girl collared. Some pet owners might think she’s a stray and try to claim her.”

“Yes, sir,” I said. “Thank you.”

Jesus! Was everyone I ran into some kind of BDSM swinger freak?

I made it back to the apartment a little after 3:30 p.m. Marie was still sitting in her new Honda, parked in her spot off the alley. I think she might have spent the rest of the afternoon there had I not disturbed her reverie.

“Thank you for helping, Daddy,” she said when she got out, giving me a deep kiss of gratitude.

“We should get inside,” I said once she had her tongue out of my mouth. “I need to talk to you and it’s almost time to start getting ready for my date.”

The apartment was nice and cool as the little window unit did its thing. I took a seat in the easy chair and pulled Marie into my lap.

“Mr. McCloskey figured out your relationship with Julia,” I said, keeping a firm hold just in case she reacted poorly. “He said I need to get you collared to protect you from other pet owners. Mr. Reynolds said pretty much the same thing the other night at the grocery store.”

Marie trembled at the memory of the encounter with Reynolds.

“What I need to know is how you feel about it,” I said.

“My therapist said I need to move past that,” she said. “That I need to be able to say no to people like that.”

“I understand that and don’t want to do anything that your therapist would see as a step back,” I said. “What I’m worried about is being able to warn those folks off until you feel comfortable standing up for yourself. Mr. Reynolds said a choker would work. How do you feel about that?”

“It shouldn’t be too bad,” she said. “I’d only have to wear it when I’m out by myself. There shouldn’t be many of that group in this town. I don’t even remember Mr. McCloskey being part of it.”

“OK,” I said. “We can look for something tomorrow. I bet one of the boutiques at the mall will have something suitable. You’ll have to tell me what will work and what won’t. I don’t have any experience with that scene and I really don’t want any.”

I went out to the Beemer and got the things out of the trunk. When I returned, Marie was waiting for me with a glass of juice.

“You didn’t have any this morning and I forgot to remind you after your shower,” she apologized. “I’ll try to do better, Daddy.”

“Don’t worry about it,” I said as I accepted the glass. “I had some at Familia Benavidez when I stopped for breakfast. I think they serve that the way other places serve orange juice. That’s the default unless you specifically ask for something else. But a little more can’t hurt.”

I dutifully downed the glass, not really expecting to get a blowjob tonight.

“What shirt do you want to wear?” Marie asked. “I can iron it real quick.”

“I hadn’t really thought about it,” I admitted. “I was just going to grab the nearest clean one.”

“What’s Staci wearing?”

“I have no idea,” I admitted. “I would hope clothes.”

“Men!” Marie sighed in exasperation as she whipped out her phone and punched a button. “Hi, Staci. Do you have a moment?”

Marie moved back to the kitchen to plan my outfit with my date. I clearly heard “chocolate brown,” the color of the boots, but not much else that I could decipher.

A minute later, Marie came back to the front room.

“I’ll have him ready by then,” she said. “Have fun tonight!”

Turning to me, she had further orders.

“You don’t really need another shower, but it wouldn’t hurt to wash up in the sink and shave,” she said. “Give me the jeans. I’ll iron them, too.”

“See? You can be assertive,” I grinned. “Be sure to tell your therapist about it this week.”

“Go!” she ordered. “You’ve got less than an hour to get ready.”