Part 11

"I'll drive you to school," Steve's dad told him Tuesday morning.

"I still can't guarantee getting back," he said on the way to school. "I certainly will try, though."

"You don't have to, Dad. I just thought of the possibility. I would feel horrible if you got into some terrible accident pushing yourself to get home."

"I haven't gotten into a terrible accident yet, and I drive all over half the state."

English class was uneventful. They were starting on research papers. The next time he saw Shannon was for lunch. They had a table without her friends around, for once. Of course, lower classmen took the other seats; but each party ignored the other. It was as close as you could get to privacy in school.

They traded disks once again. "I liked your fantasy," she said after she had stowed her disk in her backpack.

"It looks like Dad is coming home on Saturday. Even if he doesn't make it, I doubt that I'll know that in advance." That should be clear to Shannon without anyone who might overhear getting the drift.

"Well," she said, "you did have another possibility. If that's our only choice, I can live with it."

"That's wonderful. You trust me, then." And he had better be worthy of her trust, he thought. After weeks of being deprived of Shannon, he wasn't sure that he could be.

"Of course I trust you. Haven't you always been trustworthy?" She wasn't sure what that meant. The one she really didn't trust was herself. After being deprived of his hands for weeks, after seeing what her parents thought she was, she wasn't sure whether she trusted him to stop or feared that he would stop. Still, there was only so much you could say with an audience around, even if they didn't seem to be paying attention.

They talked until they had to leave the lunch room. All that Steve could think of, however, was that Shannon had agreed to go to a motel with him. His father registered ahead, and he knew what he was doing. Steve would have to call around. The next time he could talk to Ken, he told him that he couldn't come to the meeting that night, but not why.

"We'll miss you," said Ken. The truth was that there wasn't much more to do until Saturday morning. "You know, you're the only person who still notifies me that you'll miss a meeting."

"Hey, I owe you. We owe you. And if Shannon can get out on Saturday, we'll owe you much more."

Steve was the first of his family home when the school bus finally dropped him off.

He ran to his room. Shannon would consider a motel. Maybe having Dad come home wouldn't be so bad after all.

He pictured them together. He pictured Shannon as she had been a few times at babysitting houses. But this time there would be no responsibilities to distract her. This time, no kids could possibly intervene. This time, no parents could come home unexpectedly. This time, they wouldn't have to keep one ear cocked for a car driving up.

How much would she let him take off? He would see her breasts, touch her breasts, suck her breasts. Would he see her mound with its lovely hair? Would he touch it?

Would she touch HIM? He could remember her sweet hand. Hurriedly, he opened his belt and pushed down his trousers and underpants.

But once he was finished, he still hadn't found the motel. He had to clean himself up and go get the phone and the directory from the hall table. He plugged the phone into the back of his computer and dialed the first number.

What he learned shocked him. The room would cost him upwards of fifty dollars. "Our checkout time is noon," one bored desk man told him.

"What is that?"

"If you stay the night, you can stay the morning, too. You have to check out by noon, though. If you want to stay the afternoon it's another sixty-two dollars."

After that, he asked the checkout times of the places he called. Most were noon; one was eleven.

This was much more than he spent for lunch-time treats for a week; this was more than his Internet service cost for a month. This was comparable to the application fees at the colleges. Sixty two dollars for a couple hours of a date was more than he could think of as a personal expense. But he couldn't turn down the opportunity. He desperately wanted to have that time with Shannon.

But the big worry was the problem of actually getting the money. He still had his check from Hauksbee's, and -- since he wasn't spending money on taking Shannon out -- a few dollars hidden in the back of his drawer. He could get the money for the motel, but then he would risk running out before the next payday.

And he couldn't tell anybody why. Hauksbee had been unsympathetic when other employees had asked for an advance, but he would always ask what they had spent it on before turning them down. The old man was, frankly, nosy. His mother would ask in even greater detail.

And, nobody would believe that he took Shannon to a motel to make out. A motel meant only one thing. And he could kiss Shannon goodbye if he even said "make out" in the same sentence as her name. Wave goodbye to Shannon -- no kiss at all likely. It was a miracle that the girl would even consider going to a motel with him; she sure wouldn't like being known to have gone to a motel with him.

Could he tell his mother that he'd lost the money out of his pocket? Impossible. For one thing, he wasn't that good of a liar.

There was only one chance. Mr. Jensen had said that he was grateful. Let him show that gratitude. It wasn't as if Steve wanted his money. All Steve wanted was the money that belonged to him, the money in the check. He would go to the bank tomorrow, and ask for fifty dollars more back than usual when he deposited the check. He'd better ask for sixty more, just to be sure. Actually, he was tempted to ask for a hundred more. He could just picture getting to the checkout counter ten minutes after noon. Or he could get there ten minutes before noon, and the checkout time had been changed to eleven.

Anyway, he would deposit the check tomorrow. He would ask Mr. Jensen for more money back than usual. If he objected, Steve would ask how grateful he was about Amy. It wasn't as if it was his money.

When his mom got back, he asked her for a second lunch to eat after school. He wasn't going to take the bus home before going to work. "Make sure you pack your toothbrush," she said. Her concern that he brush after every meal was normally a pain. This time, it stopped her from asking about other things.

Roger was going to head out again Thursday. Rachel was a good mother who wanted her family to eat together. It was just that she was happy to say goodbye to her man while their son was safely out of the way.

Steve took Shannon's disk up to his room after dinner. The letter was great. She liked his stories. She didn't complain that they were too sexy. She liked the gift and the brownies. She said she loved him, would -- he knew -- have to say that or break up with him. But saying it was one thing; approving of him was quite another thing. These days, she seemed to approve of everything he did.

She said that she would think about the motel. Clearly she had. Almost, it would have been better if she had said "no." Then he wouldn't have to tell her that they were too expensive. On the other hand, he thought about her in a motel room. He thought about Shannon, her body, her breasts, the neat place between her legs. Then he had to stop thinking about that. He'd already done that once, today. And there was a letter for him to write.

I'm glad that you liked my gifts,
although I'm sorry that they were all you got this
year.

I've told you before. I'm on your side. Sometimes,
I think you might have made the wrong decision (not
about this, about other things long ago.) but that
doesn't mean that I'm on the side of people against you.


Well, these are my fantasies. I don't say that you
should wear your wedding dress on our honeymoon. I
just have it in the story. As to the blue panties,
what is wrong with a blue garter? Or something?

See the story.


Slowly, he undressed her until she stood before him
in her last garment. It was a pair of white
panties. He kissed her ardently and eased her down
on the bed.

"White panties," he thought. "White for a virgin.
She has never been with anyone else before.
Quickly, he removed his own clothes. Then he lay
down beside her and kissed her again. Slowly, the
kisses trailed down over her lovely breasts. These
responded, she responded.

Finally, he dragged his attention away from that
perfection. His kisses trailed lower. Just above
the line of her hair, just above the elastic of her
panties, he stopped. "I love you," he said. His
hands went to her waist.

"This," she thought, "is it. This is the last
protection of the virginity I've kept so long. She
lay there with her legs tight together for one
moment longer. Then she spread her legs the
slightest bit. She raised her hips as he tugged the
panties down.

As he slowly removed the white panties, he saw her
lovely hair appear. The sight of those delightful
curls took his breath away.

The odor of her arousal was even more stimulating.

She saw the look of adoration on his face. "Do you
like that?" she asked.

"It's the loveliest sight in the world," he said.
He pulled the panties down over her feet. Then he
lay down beside her again. They kissed. He took out
the Trojan and put it on.

"I've been yours since our first date," he said.
"Are you now mine?

"Yes," she said. "I'm yours. All of me is yours."
She spread her legs.

He kissed her again while he took his place between
them. She felt him at her entrance, the place no
other man had ever been.

He raised himself up to look her in the eyes. "I
love you," he said.

He entered her with one forceful shove. She felt
him fill her up.

Totally enclosed, he bent down to kiss her again.

He decided to not write any more. He was getting himself all hot again. And he still had homework to do.

The news about the wedding clothes could be helpful. On the other hand, the blue panties weren't what he had in mind.

He deleted the description of the aroma. Shannon might not like that. Mallory's books -- books sold to girls -- never mentioned it. He decided not to mention any pain, though the books did deal with that.

Shannon read Steve's letter as soon as she got home. Steve didn't know any more than he had written the first time.

The story was something else again.

They had been married for more than a year,
And it was cold in their house.
. . .

He decided he would never get used to the beauty of
her breasts. They were round and smooth. He kissed
them, and then kissed her on her lips. Their
tongues met. An electric thrill ran through him.

Finally, he returned to her breasts. He kissed all
that smoothness before continuing on to the hard,
red nipples. These responded to his suction.

Finally, his hands parted her legs. "Oh, yes," she
said. He stroked there while still kissing those
rose-red nipples. She was panting when he applied
the Trojan and moved over her. His tongue returned
to her lips. He licked all over them before
thrusting between them. Her tongue met his as he
made another entry below.

Filled at all openings, she moved sinuously under
him.

"I love you," he said. "Oh, how I love you! Oh!"

While he was saying that, he exploded within her.
Moments later, she had her own climax.

When it was over, he stopped moving. After lying in
her arms for a minute, he pulled out and away from
her. When he had helped her put the nightie back
on, she turned on her side to go to sleep. Having
disposed of the Trojan, he cuddled up against her.

They drifted off like that, wrapped together.

Steve loves Shannon. Oh, how he loves her.

Shannon, at that moment, loved Steve more than ever before. He was worth everything else. Even being nice to her parents would be worth it if they allowed her to be with him again.

Ken had known since the first conversation that he would have to call Shannon's mother again. He could tell himself, though, that the call would be better if he made it at some other time. Tuesday night, however, was as late as he should go. And his conscience had been pricked by Steve's honest statement that he and Shannon owed Ken.

He waited until his mother went into her room. Ken wasn't supposed to know what she was smoking in there. Then he made his phone call.

"Bryant residence. May I help you?" The voice sounded like Shannon's; the words sounded like some business. Well, he could be businesslike, as well.

"Mrs. Bryant, please." A few moments of waiting.

"Allison Bryant speaking."

"Mrs. Bryant, this is Ken Dalton. I'm president of the student council. We spoke once before."

"Yes, Ken. I remember."

"What I was wondering was whether you had decided about Shannon's participation in the gym decoration Saturday morning." Ken would bet any money that Shannon wouldn't show. He could stand that if it made Steve happy.

Allison hadn't thought about that for days. Once, she had decided that she would never let Shannon out of the house for that. Then she had decided that she should do something to make up to Shannon for spying on her. Then she had forgotten all about that question.

The evening meal, however, had been almost civilized. And she needed to decide. Well, she and Wayne needed to decide. Then she rethought. Wayne wasn't bearing the burden of this punishment; she was.

"Actually, Ken, I haven't quite. I'll tell you what, Shannon has permission until she misbehaves again. I'm sorry if that puts you in a position of uncertainty. But that's the way it is."

That sounded better to Ken than what he was expecting. If Shannon got out, Steve would be grateful. If Shannon fucked up, it would be her fault.

"Well, Mrs Bryant, I have to take what I can get."

Allison thought that it was worth her while to tell Shannon. After all, she might modify her behavior if there was a reward in sight. And, if she didn't, having told her would put another punishment in her parents' quiver.

Shannon had finished her homework. She didn't plan to answer Steve's letter while her parents were awake. She was going over the story in her head while she changed clothes for bed. The knocking surprised her. "I'm not decent!" she called.

"It's Mom."

"Just a minute." Shannon pulled the nightgown down over her head and stepped into her slippers. She opened the door. "What is it?"

"I just talked to that Ken fellow again," Allison told her daughter. "He wanted to know if you were going to be at the gym on Saturday. I said that it was your choice. If you don't pull something nasty between now and then, I'll let you go. If you misbehave, even if you put on one of the moods you've been on recently, I'll pull the plug."

"Well, thanks for telling me. I did promise, after all."

"So you did. And it is within your power to keep that promise. I didn't promise." Allison turned on her heel and walked away. Let her daughter deal with responsibility for once.

Shannon's resolution to be obedient until Saturday didn't cover waking up in the middle of the night. After all, they had never told her not to. More important, that was the time to answer Steve's letters.

I think I'll be able to get out Saturday.

Mom says that it's a matter of being nice to her and
Dad. Which means that they can pull the plug any
time they want, but they always could. Look what
they did over your visits.

Anyway, I'll be on my best behavior. Whatever I
think up, I won't try 'til Sunday. For that matter,
I'm getting tired of this grounding. I just might
give them whatever they want.

If I can figure out what that is.

Anyway, I'm on for Saturday. Wherever we can be.

The story was nice. I've told you before,
that you don't have to tell stories only about a
married couple.

Shannon loves Steve, too.
Oh how I love you.

And on that thought, she buried the disk in her backpack and snuggled into bed.

Steve took two "lunches" with him in his backpack Wednesday morning. Another student was talking to Mrs. Foster in the hall, but he and Shannon had both taken their seats already. He turned towards her and mouthed "I love you." She smiled at him just before the bell rang. Then Mrs. Foster came in, and they had to talk about library research.

They exchanged disks at lunch. Some of her friends joined their table, but they were friendlier to him than they had been before. He knew his glumness wasn't helping Shannon, but he didn't want to tell her about the problems with the motel -- not that he could mention a motel in present company -- until it was in the past. What if Mr. Jensen wouldn't give him the money?

Roger was due home for a late lunch. Rachel took off her bra and inserted the diaphragm during a pause in lunch preparation. She had the table set when Roger walked in the back door. They kissed.

"Mmm," he said, touching her breast through the blouse.

"Lunch first." She thought of the meatloaf warming in the oven. It would dry out in ten more minutes, much less a pause long enough for lovemaking. Besides, this was his last day at home for nearly a week, and Steve was out of the way for hours; she didn't want a quickie.

They sat opposite each other in the kitchen. Occasionally, his ankle rubbed up her calf. Two could play that game, and her shoes were easier to remove. They quickly put their dishes in the dishwasher, working together with the benefit of years of practice.

"Save room for dessert?" she asked, heading barefoot into their bedroom.

"Dessert? What's for dessert?"

"I am."

"I always have room for that." He was working on her clothes by this time. She started on his. Still, he was wearing an awful lot of them. When he got her blouse unbuttoned, she broke to take it off and hang it up. He took the time to remove his own shirt and undershirt. He pulled her against him for the first kiss with his skin warming hers. She felt his hands grip her bottom cheeks and his erection press the zipper of his trousers against her belly.

He felt her nipples against his chest. He'd never doubted she wanted this; the flirting over lunch had only confirmed their pattern before his trips. Still, the evidence was welcome. And the actual feel aroused him. He licked her lips. Her tongue welcomed his. Her buttocks flexed under his clasping hands.

Rachel fanned her hands up and down her husband's back. She did enjoy the feel of skin. Then she pushed him back. Long married, she knew better than to attack his trousers before his shoes were off. He sat down on the bed and she knelt to untie his shoes. He ran his nails very lightly over her back while she did this. She pulled off his shoes and then the socks one after the other.

She pushed herself up with a hand on his thigh. He stood to kiss her again. He smoothed his hands upwards, stepping back to get access to her breasts. She stood looking at his face and enjoying the sensations of his playing with her breasts. When he bent to kiss them, she pulled his face against her. Then her hands strayed to his belt. He didn't straighten until his trousers had puddled around his ankles.

Then he unbuttoned the waist of her skirt and pulled down the zipper. He was in his jockey shorts, but she was completely naked. "Dessert," he said. He stepped forward, leaving his trousers lying on the floor and bending his right leg between hers. He pulled her against him in a tight hug. When he straightened, he was holding her up off the floor. Her thighs clasped his thigh tightly, and her weight pressed all her sensitive parts against his leg. She enjoyed the rubbing that generated as he took the few steps to the bed.

He kissed her forehead. "Dessert," he said. He lowered her to the bed and kissed her nipple. "Dessert." He kissed a line down that breast and up the other. Then he kissed down her belly. He kissed an elaborate circle all around her navel, then thrust his tongue into it. When she writhed at that tickle, he kissed further down.

He spared only one close-mouthed kiss for her mound. His attentions to her thighs, in contrast, were wet. To Rachel, they seemed to go on forever. Finally, she tugged his hair until his mouth was where she needed it.

He parted her outer lips with his thumbs. He licked up the edge of her inner ones. The taste was delightful. He licked harder and was rewarded with more of her fluid. Only the tip of his tongue touched her clitoris, and that was as gentle as he could make it. Still, she shivered.

He lifted his head to say "Real dessert." He kissed her thighs again, slowly zeroing in on her lips. She spread her legs, wanting him at her center now, knowing that his slowness would ultimately enhance her pleasure. She hadn't wanted a quickie, but Roger's schedule might drive her crazy.

Finally, his tongue licked between her lips again. He tasted one side, and then the other. He moved his arms upwards until his hands could reach her breasts. He cupped each breast with a hand, taking the nipples between thumb and forefinger in each case. He timed it so that he squeezed her nipples very gently just when his tongue reached her clitoris.

"Oh, yes," she said. "Yesss!"

Rachel was slightly puzzled that Roger wasn't using his finger yet. She stopped thinking, however, about what he was doing -- much less what he was not doing -- to enjoy the sensations that were coming her way. She was burning hot in the cool room. There was a fire in her belly, a hotter fire between her legs. That fire flared through her body, controlling it, moving it.

He enjoyed her writhing under his face and within his arms. When she convulsed, he clamped his open mouth over the top of her genitals and inhaled. Still sucking, he closed his lips slowly until they were on either side of her clitoris.

The fire consumed her utterly. When it left, it took her with it.

The tense, writhing, body under him suddenly went limp. Roger abandoned all contact except to lie with his face on her mound. She gasped under him; he gasped over her. His deep breaths brought the aroma of her arousal through his nose. Minutes later, he moved up in the bed beside her. He hugged her gently, being careful that he was neither touching the sensitive parts nor interfering with her breathing.

When Rachel came back, she felt Roger lying against one side and his hand on her other shoulder. She was contained in his arms, and in his love. She reached up and squeezed the hand on her shoulder.

"I love you," he said. "I'm sorry I have to go away." Well, he had to.