Chapter 8

It rained the very next morning. It was a hard, torrential rain, and the sky was dismally grey.

I had called Patty the night before, and told her that my family was expecting her to arrive at eight o'clock for breakfast. Patty seemed pleasantly surprised over the phone. She had told me on a few occasions that I needed to deal with my parents, and I had done so, handling my mother without having to resort to using any of my lucky tickets. I took no chances with my step-father, however, not really knowing him as well as my mother.

I had been on pins and needles almost the entire night before. I hadn't given a time limit on the wish I had given my step-father, and hoped that it would at least last through the morning. However, I did make similar sorts of wishes without any expirations, such as having Wendy and Camille trust me and treat me as a friend, and they were still going strong. I considered keeping my roll of tickets handy, but in the end, I finally decided that I would just take things as they happen.

It occurred to me that Merry was able to explain about how the wishes worked when given a wish to do so (this sounds much more complicated than it really was). I thought I'd ask Patty to try an experiment later so I can figure out why some wishes require time limits, and possibly answer some other questions that I had occurred to me over the last few days.

Patty arrived promptly on time, and she parked in front of my house. She ran from her car to my front door, trying to avoid getting too wet. The rain was pouring in sheets, however, so Patty was ultimately unsuccessful. She had a plastic kerchief on her head, and a nylon rain coat over the rest of her clothes, so only her shoes were wet when she got into the foyer. Since our family mostly just wears socks around the house, I had Patty take off her shoes and rain coat, and put them in the entrance foyer.

The rest of my family were in the kitchen, waiting for my guest. I took Patty into the kitchen and introduced her, and they all exchanged pleasantries.

"Why don't you sit down, Patty?" my mother said.

"Thank you," Patty said, taking her seat.

My mother seemed just a bit uncomfortable, but tried to be as good a hostess as she ever was. She offered Patty some coffee cake, which she accepted.

"Jim tells me that you're a senior," my mother said.

"Yes. I'll be going into twelfth grade when school starts after Labor Day," Patty said.

"Jim will be attending high school as well," my mother added, carefully avoiding the fact that I would be entering a grade two years younger.

"Patty," my step-sister said, "Is that your car in front of the house?"

"Yes, Merry."

"Wow. How old were you when your father gave you a car?" Merry always had her own personal agendas, and I was quite used to it.

"I'd imagine she was a few years older than you are, young miss," my step-father answered.

Patty smiled. "I got it last month. Seniors can park at school."

"That sounds wicked!" Merry explained.

"Have you picked out a college, Patty?" my mom asked.

"I think I may do liberal arts at the community college for a couple of years," Patty said.

My mother nodded.

It hadn't occurred to me that college would be something that a high school student would have to think about. I realized that I would probably be expected to think about college in a couple of years, if not sooner. It occurred to me that the two year difference in my age and Patty's was a bigger gulf than I had thought during the past few days. (In retrospect, I think that making me think this may have been the reason for some of my mother's questions.)

"Liberal arts sounds fine. I wish I had earned a college degree," my mother mused.

The conversation that morning at the breakfast table continued in the same vein. It was pleasant enough, and only my mother seemed to be forcing her good humor, but I doubted that Patty would have noticed it, not knowing my mother as well as I did.

After breakfast, I went to do the dishes, but Merry stopped me, telling me she'd do it, and I that I should attend to my guest. I was a bit surprised, but again, I had a pretty good relationship with her.

Patty and I adjourned to my room. I put on a Beatles album at least so my mother could rationalize that we were just listening to records.

Patty immediately removed her blouse and bra as she entered my room, almost before the door was closed. She then got on her knees in the middle of my room.

"What are you doing, Patty?"

"It's Patricia," corrected my guest.

"Sorry, Patricia. What are you doing?"

"You are supposed to tell me to put your penis in my mouth."

I smiled. "You're Kristen this morning?"

Patricia nodded.

The episode with Kristen was still fresh in my mind. I ordered Patricia to pull my dick out of my pants. She unbuttoned, unzipped, and pulled my jeans down just as Kristen did before.

She then took my cock and placed it in her mouth.

"Oy um a fock'n butch!"

I almost laughed. Patty was not any better than Kristen at talking with a dick in her mouth. I didn't laugh, though, since it would have spoiled the mood.

"Oy um a fock'n butch!"

I watched as Patty started sucking me in earnest. "Ummm um fummmummm bumm," she moaned, exactly as Kristen had done yesterday.

The whole scene was really quite erotic for me, and seeing Patty sucking me while I was remembering Kristen doing exactly the same thing soon had me erupting in her mouth.

"That was wonderful, Patricia!"

"Thank you, James," Patricia said, pleased at herself. She still had my come in her mouth. "May I swow-woe?"

"Well, I don't know how I can have you French kiss Patty, so I guess you can swallow."

"Oy could kiss yoom," Patty suggested.

I laughed and shook my head, not relishing the thought of tasting a full load of my sperm. Patty swallowed, and smiled in triumph.

"That was fun," Patty said. "How did you come up with that punishment for Kristen?"

"I don't know," I admitted. "I just tried to think of something that would embarrass her in front of the three of you."

"Think you could come up with something embarrassing for me, James?" Patty said, emphasizing the name she used.

I sighed. "I don't know. When I'm angry, I usually think of nasty ways of getting even. But I can't imagine me being that angry with you."

"Yes, James," Patty said, a bit sadly.

I was afraid that I had hurt her feelings... by not hurting her feelings. The whole situation seemed preposterous.

"James?" Patty said, still in "slave" mode.

"Yes, Patricia?"

"Can we visit with Wendy and Camille again today?"

I didn't have much in the way of plans for today. "I don't see any reason why not, Patty."

Patty smiled at me and gave me a hug.

I had Patty drive me to her house. Unfortunately, her mother's car wasn't in the driveway. I had hoped to be able to "convince" Patty's mother that our relationship wasn't something that she needed to be concerned about.

"You want to play in my room?" Patty offered.

"Nah," I said. Normally, I would rather have had the opportunity to spend a day with Patty at the park, but it was still raining, even if it wasn't the torrential downpour it was earlier in the morning. "So, Patty, would you prefer to go back to Wendy's house, or maybe meet your friends at the mall?"

"Wendy's house," Patty answered.

"Sure she won't mind?"

Patty gave me a "let's get serious" look and didn't bother answering vocally. She put the car into gear and headed back toward my house.

"Where are we going? This isn't the way to Wendy's."

"Camille's," Patty answered. "Her father brought her car to the auto shop to get a tune-up, oil change, and check-up so she can use it for school."

"Oh," I said.

Camille actually lived pretty close to where I lived, which made sense since she and her sister had baby sat for me when I was younger.

"Hi, Patty! Hi, Jim!" Camille said cheerily when she answered the door.

"Is that Patty, dear?" came a woman's voice behind her.

"Yes, Ma," Camille answered, looking behind her. "She's with Jim, another of our friends."

Camille's mother asked, "Do they want cake?"

Camille looked at us, and Patty said quietly that we were heading toward Wendy's. Camille turned back to answer her mother. "Nah. They're just picking me up. I'll be back for dinner!"

"OK, 'Milla," the mother said. "Call if you'll be late."

In the car, I looked in the back seat where Camille was sitting. "Milla?"

Camille grinned. "My mother's side of the family calls me that."

"Would that make me 'Jimma, ' then?" I giggled.

"Very funny."

Patty looked over to me from her driving. "'Jimma, '" she said, looking at me. "Interesting name."

I just grinned at Patty.

The rain was starting to let up as we got to Wendy's house. Wendy's mother had already left for work.

"Hi, guys," Wendy said as she answered her door.

Patty returned the greeting. "Hi, Wendy. We figured we'd hang out here, if you don't mind."

Wendy shrugged. "Mom wants me to do the grocery shopping today. We need cold cuts, so I'll need to shop first before we have lunch."

I felt some money in my back pocket. "Um, what if I treat my friends to lunch? We could go, maybe, to Vaughn's." Vaughn's was a combination ice cream and fast food place just outside the mall, in a shopping center that also had a grocery store.

Patty looked at me, curiously. "You have money for Vaughn's?"

I smiled. "Courtesy of our favorite Princess Bitch!"

Camille and Wendy started laughing. "You didn't!" said Wendy.

"Yup." I started singing an old Louis Prima song my parents used to play, "Just a Gigolo..."

"My god!" Camille said. "You got her to pay you yesterday?"

I nodded, self-satisfied. "Uh, huh!"

Patty raised an eyebrow. "You should be saving your money, Jim. Not spending it on us."

I said, confidently, "There's more where that came from."

Patty gave me another of her looks, one that indicated that she might be thinking that I was going to go into the Male Prostitute business. I hadn't yet told her about my arrangement with Kristen.

I simply shrugged off Patty's look.

Wendy looked at me admiringly. "You really are something else, Jim."

"Are you going to keep us standing in the rain, Wendy?" I asked.

Wendy, realizing that she was being less than the perfect hostess, invited the three of us in.

We removed our coats and shoes in Wendy's foyer, and sat around the living room.

"So," Wendy said, once we were all sitting comfortably. "What's new?"

"Guess what?" Camille asked.

"What?" Patty answered.

Camille was grinning. "Guess who called me last night?"

Wendy suggested, "Jack from the soccer team?"

Camille shook her head. "Nah. Not a boy. Jackie!"

Patty said, "You mean, Jackie as in Kristen's gang?"

Camille nodded her head. "Uh, huh. She said that Kristen stood up her and a few of her friends yesterday at the mall. And afterward, Kristen had called her gang up, sounding quite strange, and saying things like maybe they could be nicer to other people."

Patty was overjoyed. "YES! She listened to me! Yeah!"

I nodded, never doubting for one minute the power of the tickets.

Patty then looked serious. "I got a call last night. My mom said it was a girl, but when I got on, there was nobody there. Nobody called back, either. I figured it was a wrong number. Maybe Kristen's gang is calling us to tell us that they will treat us nice and whoever it was got cold feet."

Camille nodded. "Maybe. Or it could have been a wrong number."

Wendy looked at me and said, "You said that Kristen paid you yesterday?"

I nodded.

"May I ask how much?"

I thought about it, and finally said, "I don't think a gentleman should answer that question."

Patty gave a weak smile at me, but still had a look of concern. I knew that I would have to have a talk with her later to assure her that Kristen was just a special case.

Wendy accepted my reluctance to answer, and changed the subject. "You know who called me last night? Gerry!"

"The guy that plays the guitar?" Camille asked, eager for juicy gossip.

Actually, I knew a guitar player named Gerry from my experiences with the high school band (my music teacher occasionally "loaned" me out to help out with stuff like school musicals). He was quite talented and had a band and everything. I didn't know Gerry's last name, so I couldn't ask if it was the same person.

"Uh, huh," Wendy said. "Like, I've been trying to get him to notice me for MONTHS..."

"Anybody with eyes will notice you, Wendy," Camille said. This remark was met with laughs at Wendy's expense, confirming to me that the girls were talking about Wendy's large breasts.

The girls dropped into what I guess was typical female gossip. I wasn't too interested in this, but after a few minutes, I realized that I must have passed some sort of milestone in my friendship. I was probably the first guy that these girls would ever discuss such things around. I tried to follow the conversation, but it kept jumping around. I was feeling all too happy to be trusted like this to interrupt them.

After about a half hour, I noticed that Patty was looking at me occasionally. And then I noticed that she pointedly started drawing me into their conversation, trying to get my opinions on things.

The girls were talking about another of their classmates, a girl named Sally. She was dating a guy that had graduated a couple of months ago. Patty was saying, "I can't see why Sally would think that Kevin would be faithful to her, especially with him over three hundred miles away. What do girls see in older guys, anyway? I kind of like them younger."

"Younger?" asked Camille. "How about Steve? Isn't he a hunk?"

"Brainless, mindless jock," spat Patty. "I had my fill of them for a lifetime. I want somebody like Jim, here."

All three girls looked at me. Quickly, I protested, "I thought you want me just as a friend, Patty."

"Not you, necessarily," Patty said. "I said, 'like you.' I want somebody smart, mature, and definitely not a jock."

"Hey!" I said in mock protest.

Camille giggled, "Jimma Not-A-Jock. I like the sound of that!" Patty and Camille giggled at that.

"Jimma?" asked Wendy, confused.

"Jim heard Mom call me 'Milla. And he suggested that we call him Jimma."

"No, I didn't!" I said.

"Aww, poor Jimma!" said Patty, moving over to me. "Is Cammie hurting your feelings?"

"Hey!" Camille said, "You're the one that said that Jimma wasn't a jock!"

"Let's kiss and make up," Patty said, nuzzling my cheek. "There, Jimma. Feel better now?"

Camille and Wendy both decided to get in on the action.

Wendy said, "'Jimma.' I like that." She kissed me on my left cheek.

"Yeah, Jimma," mocked Camille, who lightly brushed Patty aside to kiss my right cheek. "And it looks like Jimma Junior likes the attention, huh?" Camille had her hand on my crotch, which was starting to react to the proximity of the three girls nuzzling me.

Camille wasn't dumb. "Aww, Jimma's little friend seems to be all cooped up in here. Think we should let him out?"

Patty gave me a questioning look to as if to ask if I had any of the girls under the control of my tickets. I simply shrugged at her. I had no idea what had gotten into Camille.

Camille turned to Patty. "Well, Patty. Do we get to see Jimma's little buddy? Or do you want to hog him all for yourself?"

"Hog him?" Patty asked.

"Uh, huh," Wendy agreed.

Patty blushed as she realized her friends knew that the two of us had more than a non-physical friendship.

Camille, said, "You said not Jimma, but like him. So, he's not yours?"

Patty said, "No. I mean..." She blushed as she tried to get the words out.

Camille and Wendy let me go.

Camille said, "Oh, pooh! Patty, we're just teasing you and Jimma here." She went to hug her friend, and Wendy did likewise.

I didn't want to be left out, so I went over to Patty and hugged her as well. "All friends, right?"

"Right," Patty answered. "You're correct, Jimma Not-A-Jock!"

I wondered how long that name would stick.

The conversation turned to other subjects, including school classes that I wouldn't have to think about for a year or so. I listened, but didn't memorize everything. Every once in a while, the girls would try to bring me back into the conversation, but I was happy to just be part of the group, just listening.

The phone rang, doing little to interrupt the conversation except that Wendy went into the kitchen to answer it. Patty and Camille continued whatever they were talking about.

Wendy came in. "Patty, it's for you."

"The phone?" Patty asked. "For me?"

"Yeah."

Patty went into the kitchen. As soon as she left, Wendy said, quietly, to Camille and me, "It's Kristen. She sounds weird."

"Ooh," Camille said. "Maybe the bitch really is going to apologize to us."

Wendy shrugged. "Well, she didn't apologize to me. She just asked for Patty."

"Huh?" Camille asked. "That IS weird."

Patty came in, looking at me with an expression that I never her use before: disapproval. "It seems that Kristen is asking permission for me to let her meet with Jim."

Wendy asked, "Why not ask Jim himself?"

Patty continued looking at me. "That's a good question."

I tried to look sheepish, but I was actually feeling victorious. I had won another battle against Kristen's bitchiness. I had made her ask Patty to arrange for my services, but had neglected to tell Patty about it. Seeing Patty's attitude now made me questioned the wisdom of letting this be a surprise to her.

"I, uh..." I stammered. "Kristen seems to be addicted a bit to me."

Wendy and Camille looked at each other in surprise.

I decided to let them all know. "She has to make arrangements through Patty for my services. It's part of my plan to embarrass her."

Patty shook her head. "Jim, something went wrong! She really sounds desperate!"

Shit. Maybe I went a little too far. I didn't answer Patty.

Patty pressed on. "She wants to come over."

I looked at the three girls, and saw that none of them really wanted a repeat of yesterday's performance.

"Send her over," I said quietly.

"Huh?" asked Patty.

"I said, 'send her over, ' Patricia," in the same quiet voice.

"Yes, JAMES," Patty said, still disapproving, and quickly returned back to the kitchen.

Wendy and Camille didn't understand what was going on, but by now I think that they realized that Patty and I had some secret code between us.

I looked at the two girls and said, "Don't worry. I'll make things right. I had just wanted to give Kristen a not-so-subtle reminder about yesterday. I may have gone too far."

Wendy and Camille nodded, but didn't say anything.

Patty came out of the kitchen. "She'll be here in ten minutes, JAMES."