Chapter 3: Love Threatened

We did not have a good year...

We had a GREAT year!

The football team was disappointing, though.

I red-shirted that year, but knew I'd be starting next fall-I was a lot better than the senior who started at tight end and his sophomore backup. I knew that Coach was saving me for that extra year at the end of my college career when, hopefully, both the team and I would be better. That was OK. Hanna was a year behind me. This way, I'd still be in school for her senior year. We both were determined to graduate and wanted to do it together.

Hanna enjoyed the year, too. She had to transfer to a different high school, because we were living on the university campus-a two-hour drive from home. Since day care was included in my scholarship, she ran on the cross-country team in the fall and played basketball in winter, as well as track in the spring.

Meanwhile, with Coach Ullrich's blessing and encouragement, I'd been allowed to compete in track for the university. I rapidly learned that I wasn't even in the race in middle distances, but that I could really throw the discus. Apparently my size, strength, and long arms, with the blessing of superior coordination, made me a 'natural' for the event.

That spring, Hanna and I were even able to compete in some 'open' meets, where we were paid to appear! (We were scrupulous about running everything through the university athletic department, so that we would not lose our amateur standing with the NCAA or the AAU.)

I won the discus event in all the dual meets, and was second only once, to the national champion, in an open meet.

Hanna didn't win, but was respectable in the jumping events in the open meets. She tore up the high school competition. Her stomach and leg musculature is phenomenal, as is her arm strength. The weight of her boobs was a difficulty-it was both more to lift off the ground, and affected her center of gravity-but she had the strength to overcome that.

(It always amazes me that, at rest, she is smooth and sleek, like a lingerie model, and didn't look at all like the ripped, angular female athletes we often see.)

She'd been best in state in both high jump and pole vault and set a state record. At the state meet-held at Autzen Stadium on the university campus-she tied her state record to win the pole vault, and achieved a personal best to win the high jump. Coach Myers, the track coach, assured us of her own 'full ride' scholarship in the fall. (And, like me, she earned a couple of small academic scholarships, too.)

We moved home for the summer, into our 'chicken coop, ' to spend some time with our families and to let his grandparents spoil Jason rotten. We took outrageous advantage of the 'built in babysitting', when we went to track meets here and there-including a couple in Europe, where Mom and Jason came along.

It was astounding how much an 'amateur' could make at track-just for showing up-if your name was in the news. I came to really appreciate the discus. It was, for me, an easy event and provided very welcome income for our family. (It sure beat hell out of the usual summer job!) Hanna had to work a lot harder at her events and constantly improved in competition against the best in the world, but she wasn't normally in the top three, like I was.

Jason was growing and happy and our parents were glad to spoil him! Even my brothers got into the act. I had to lay down the law about some of the things they were teaching him.

We managed two weeks at dad's cabin on the lake, while the grandparents cheerfully took care of Jason. The boat ran well and I got in some good fishing and a lot of constructive loafing. Hanna complained that I made her do all the work but that wasn't true. She was just griping for effect and enjoyed herself as much as I did. I chopped all the wood for the fires we enjoyed in the evenings and did the heavy cleaning, as well as all the work with the boat.

She especially enjoyed teasing me with a bikini at least two sizes too small. I got even though.

Mid-day the fishing isn't all that good anyway, so I pulled the boat into a deserted grassy shore. After sandwiches washed down by sodas, Hanna removed her top-to get an 'all over' tan, you know-and stretched out on the grass. I lay beside her, and gently began petting and stroking, just teasing with my fingertips... until her arousal became evident when she peeled off her bikini bottom, and jerked my swimsuit off, too.

Not to be hurried, I increased the tease by adding my mouth to the stimuli, kissing everywhere. Paying attention to the soft spot at the back of the knees is a lot of fun... Near her center, I kissed and licked the crease where her thighs join the hips, then up to visit her breasts, and then a nibble behind the ears.

By that point she was pleading, whimpering in need. When I finally moved above her, she grabbed me to try to force me in. I just froze, until she relaxed and let me control things.

Rubbing the head of my cock up and down her slot ensured adequate lubrication-she was soaked. I paid special attention to her clit, and was rewarded with an explosive orgasm before I even started to shove it in. I just rubbed up and down through her labia until she 'came down' a bit, then smoothly entered her.

Her legs and arms encircled me, and she enjoyed a second intense orgasm as soon as she felt me touch her cervix.

This was marvelous-I get more enjoyment from my beloved getting off than worrying about my own pleasure-and I'm never disappointed. By the time we were sated, Hanna could barely speak and I was exhausted. But we had in mind to do it again, soon.

Her hard body was so strong and so limber, we were able to achieve some remarkable positions during our vacation-once even making love with her doing a head-stand in the shower.

Why?

Just because we could.

It was a loving, joy-filled time for us and we still treasure the memories, laughing uproariously when either reminds the other of some of the crazy, fun things we did.

Living with her was always fun. Her cheerful attitude and quirky sense of humor made it so... I'd learned to avoid her volcanic temper.

By the time fall football practice started, we were rested and ready for school. I was the heir apparent at tight end. Last year's backup wanted to start, but he just didn't have my size, speed, or ability to catch footballs.

The competition was much tougher than I was used to-everybody on the field had been a 'star' in his high school. Our team was very good, I thought, until I actually played against some of the other schools in the PAC-10. It was an education that, thankfully, I absorbed quickly.

Without modesty, I can honestly say that the competition spurred me to a new level of play. I learned the tricks-legal and not-that defensive lines use against the offense, both when I was blocking and when I was getting out on a pass pattern. I learned how to pass block and block down for a sweep against some of the best and most agile defenses in the country. I learned how to get loose to get into the pattern and how to run the patterns crisply.

Most of all, I learned how to catch the ball, knowing I was going to get hit. And how to hold on to it, once I caught it.

I still needed to learn to recognize defenses and adjust routes on the fly. That would come in another year or two. But I was learning and improving. Coach Ullrich was pleased.

One of Hanna's classes was "Calculus for Students Who Are NOT Engineers"-though that wasn't its official title. Not as rigorous as the classes for science and engineering majors, it was tough enough.

Hanna soon made friends with a girl in the class, Holly Irons. Holly was very pretty and reasonably bright. She and Hanna were comparable in many ways, except height. Petite-about 5 feet one-and curvy, Holly was more a 'bubbly' type, where Hanna was just fun. Hanna enjoyed a good joke and was an accomplished practical joker. Holly's sense of humor was warped.

Holly attracted men like bees to honey. She often called Hanna for help on an assignment she hadn't had time to complete herself... because she had dates most nights.

More than once I heard Hanna on the phone with her. "Holly, you've just got to learn to say NO. You can't go out every night of the week and expect to get good enough grades to graduate. Now, promise me you won't go out again until Friday."

Holly always promised.

And always broke her promise.

Her problem was that she really liked men. She honestly thought she was searching for the ideal man, to marry and settle down. But she liked them all. Lots. And had no problem with going to bed with most of them, which kept them coming back whenever they were horny-most of the time for college guys.

She often had dinner with us-usually about once a week, on that one evening she didn't have a date. Her conversation was hilarious, as she related her various adventures during the past week. But after a couple glasses of wine, she'd turn serious and wonder if she'd ever find "Mr. Right". Hanna would assure her that she would. "Just keep kissing the frogs. There's a prince in there somewhere."

Personally, I was glad Holly only visited about once a week. Very attractive and sexy, she flirted with me outrageously. Hanna laughed it off and so did I. But I knew she was available if I wanted it. And she knew damn well she was testing the water.

We had a good season and finished third in the PAC-10. UCLA and Washington both beat us. But we got invited to the Aloha Bowl and had a game after Christmas. I caught three long passes, as well as a bunch of 'dinks'. My touchdown put us ahead and we never trailed after that.

Holly, by spring, had fallen in and out of love a half-dozen times. Most of her romances broke up when her 'true love' realized that she was incapable of an exclusive relationship.

Hanna gave her a shoulder to cry on and her cheerful, positive steadiness to lean on.

But by spring, we both, though we liked Holly a lot, were convinced there was something wrong.

Probing gently, Hanna became convinced that Holly was addicted to sex-if slightly kinky, so much the better. I didn't disagree, but thought there was more to it-maybe some childhood abuse or other psychological trauma.

The football team had a psychologist on retainer, who was available to anyone on the team. I made an appointment to consult her.

"Dr. Rabb, thanks for seeing me."

"Any time Gary. What's your problem?"

"It's not mine. Really. Hanna and I have a friend who seems addicted to sex. I think there's something more there than simple addiction to orgasms. I think, in fact, that her problems are rooted in her past. She's a really sweet girl and we want to help her. But I wanted to check with you before I do something that will do more harm than good."

She thought about that for a moment. "Gary," she said, seriously, "this kind of thing is best left to professionals. My advice to you and Hanna would be to distance yourselves from this person as rapidly as possible."

"And then what would happen?"

"I have no idea. But it would probably be messy. And it wouldn't get all over you... Gary it's not your problem. Don't borrow it from your friend. This kind of thing doesn't lend itself to a quick fix from an amateur. I repeat: Get out of it NOW."

"Doctor, I can't do that. I don't turn my back on friends, ever... Now, here's what we thought we'd do. Please tell me if this can cause harm-and what to look for or do if we have a chance to help as a result of this..."

She didn't like it, but she helped.

Hanna and I were on the track team together, which was fun. For both of us, sports was kind of our 'office'. It was through our athletic prowess we were paying for our education and most of the family expenses. In a very real way, it was how we made our living. Being able to 'work' with Hanna, outside of our normal joint workouts, was pure pleasure. She was fun on the trips, too.

One thing I especially appreciated was the quality of coaching we got. (Oregon is known as a track Mecca, and the coaches were all superior.) Hanna's heights increased, as she mastered better techniques. By the end of the season, she usually won in the dual meets and often in the larger events.

I had put on another ten pounds for football and, since it was mostly in my upper body, I kept it there for track. It all helped me throw farther. (I plain wasn't strong enough for shot put at that level. And concentrating on discus was enough, with the schoolwork I had to do and the study the football team required even in the off-season.)

Hanna set a university freshman record for pole vault, in our fourth meet-against Cal, as I recall. Even after having Jason, and needing to lift her big boobs over the bar, her legs were strong and springy enough to put her among the best at the jumping events.

And at that point in the season, my throws were the longest in the country. But then my main competition, a guy from Alabama, beat my distance in an open meet. No problem, I'd see him at an open meet in June.

Although she jumped well and placed in the conference meet, Hanna just missed qualifying for the NCAA track meet. She was mildly disappointed, but not crushed. She still had another three years. Meanwhile, I'd won all the late season meets and won NCAA easily. The team ended up fourth, though. We didn't have the sprinters we needed.

We arranged for Holly to spend the summer with us.

She told us that she could spend the summer with her mom, but that she was really an outsider there. Her mom always had a 'boyfriend' and didn't really want the constant reminder of her real age that a daughter in college provided. Her dad had disappeared several years before and Holly had no idea where he was-nor desire to find out.

We wondered what had happened to make her feel that way.

Our hope was that, surrounded by our families-and their warmth and love-she'd open up and we could begin to help her.

At first, I thought we were succeeding.

Then we found her, one afternoon, in bed with my brother Derry. After they were done, Hanna told Holly she felt that it was a pretty shitty way to repay us, seducing her brother-in-law. Holly wept and said she'd be good but that she was soooo horny and he was soooo sexy...

A week later, finding him alone, she came on REAL strong to Aiden. Hanna had told our parents about her problem and what we were trying to do for her. Asked if it wasn't a bit more trouble than she was worth, Hanna assured them that Holly was a good person who was just really messed up. So Aiden just grabbed her wrists in one of his big paws, and turned her over his knee.

He was surprised, about the second smack-hard enough to leave red marks through her jeans-when Holly started to moan. "Yesss, daddy. I'm a bad girl. Please don't hurt me daddy..." Her face took on a sly look. "I'll give you a blowjob with your fuck, if you don't hurt me... Momma expects me to do her later today, and I can't if you hurt me."

With that to go on, we all surrounded Holly with love, but insisted she tell us what was going on.

It seems that when she was just turned nine, her father raped her. When she protested, and cried, he beat her, fairly brutally, while his cock was penetrating her. This became the pattern. She'd get beaten, then raped... or both, simultaneously.

She'd gone to her mother. Still very young, she didn't know what to do-and wasn't experienced enough to know that her mother's response was not typical. Her mother raped her too... and demanded sex from her daughter frequently thereafter.

When her mother started having frequent men around-both before and after Holly's dad took off-she sometimes demanded Holly have sex with them, thinking her preteen daughter would keep them interested longer.

By the time she got to college, Holly knew all about being raped and used. She also knew that the ideal was one man and one woman who loved each other and were exclusive. That sounded heavenly to her.

She just couldn't do it.

Sex, to her, was such a cheap commodity that it was completely divorced from love. She understood that most people didn't think that way, but didn't understand why. Sex, when she could choose the time, place, and partner, was a nice thrill, and one she couldn't get often enough. It had nothing to do with love. It was like smoking a cigarette-and about as important, emotionally. She often thought she was in love and promised to be exclusive to the current object of her affections.

Problem was, she'd get horny, and someone else would be handy, and she'd soon be in bed humping his socks off.

All we could do was surround her with love and prevent her from engaging in casual sex. It wasn't easy, but we started to see some real progress. Holly was sleeping better at night and wasn't obsessed with sex all the time. She started taking more interest in other things around her. In fact, she started to turn into a really wonderful person... the Holly we all knew was there somewhere.

Hanna's lawsuit against Dick Pritchard came up for trial. She'd joined all the other kids who'd been injured in Dick's attack. (The 'wrongful death' suits by the parents of the two students killed in his shooting spree would come up about six months later. My slander suit against his parents would not make it to trial for at least two more years.)

It was an interesting event. Dick's dad had put most of his assets into Dick's name, as a tax dodge-barely legal. Then we'd arranged the court order that essentially 'froze' those assets, so they'd be available to pay the judgments against Dick-and his lawyers couldn't strip them for fees first.

The word around town was that Dick's parents were having a tough time, since they'd been using those holdings as collateral for other deals they had been promoting.

But the funniest part of it, from my standpoint, was that Dick's lawyer had to get the judge to allow him a set fee from the property. Without that, Dick couldn't get a lawyer to defend him in this civil suit, or the wrongful death suits.

Actually, the thing never went to trial. The lawyer settled with everybody by dividing up what Dick had. Most of it was real estate that had to be sold to determine the exact amount available. This included a nice office building downtown. Hanna's dad, Aiden, suggested we'd take that, as Hanna's part of the settlement. The appraisal was low, he felt, and showed a value less than Hanna's share.

Aiden wanted the building and Hanna could earn a good rental income from it. Mostly, he needed more space for his company. He'd have preferred to own his offices, but didn't mind paying rent to his daughter. Part of the deal was that he handled the rentals for the rest of the space.

When Hanna and Aiden went to inspect the building after it was transferred to her, they found the Pritchards moving out of the best office suite in the place.

Giving a glare that would have frozen them solid, if possible, Mrs. Pritchard hissed, "I hope you're happy! And I hope this place gives you nothing but trouble! You've done all you can to ruin us. Well, I hope you get it all back, double!"

Her husband just glared at them and hauled boxes of files out to a U-Haul.

Turns out, several drains were plugged-the plumber said it had to have been deliberate. And the electrical system was all messed up, though the electrician straightened it out easily. He said it was sabotage, but done by an amateur.

Hanna's dad just attributed it to spite by evil-minded people and forgot about it.

We heard later that they'd done similar things to some of the other properties that were sold to satisfy the judgments against Dick. But it backfired on them. The word rapidly spread through both realtors and contractors that Pritchard had done those things, and his contracting business, already hurt, ended. No one would do business with him under any circumstances.

The grapevine reported that the Pritchards blamed Hanna for all of this-and me by association. Their reasoning, according to the rumors, was that none of this would have happened if Hanna hadn't blatantly teased Dick, coercing him into coming on to her a bit strong, and then humiliated him so cruelly and publicly. It seems that the fact that their son attempted to rape her, hit her several times, and had a reputation for being 'over the line' with his dates, just didn't appear on their horizon. They would not-COULD NOT-accept any blame for themselves or their son. So it must be Hanna's fault.

My parents were worried about it. "Gary, those people HATE," Mom said one evening. "You kids be careful."

One of the stupidest things I ever did was shrug off her warning.

Dick, meanwhile, was exhausting his appeals. The federal courts all turned him down, and he couldn't get an appeal to the Supreme Court. His execution was scheduled for sometime between Thanksgiving and Christmas.

That fall, the football team looked stronger than it had in years. The students and alumni were excited about our prospects. None of the coaches or team was talking Rose Bowl-but it was sure on everybody's mind.

I had a great fall practice and was solid as the starting end. I'd reached six feet, five inches and two hundred thirty-five pounds. I didn't have blinding speed, but I could motor right along and my reflexes were as good as anyone's. My patterns were crisp and I'd learned how to fake out a cornerback-at least, some of the time-and could usually get separation from the defenders. Most important, my size, ability to jump, and good hands allowed me to catch passes in traffic and hang on to the ball.

Our quarterback was very good. (He later made a career in the NFL as a solid journeyman.) He could get the ball to the running backs with maximum deception and delivered his passes with a good touch. And he had the arm to zing it in there, when that was needed. Of necessity, he and I became friends.

Don 'Godfather' Morrison was a member of one of the premier 'jock' fraternities on 'Greek Street'. He was also the one who kept the house GPA high enough that they weren't suspended. A guy who loved a good party and had a reputation for going through women like popcorn at a movie, he was bright enough to know when to call it a night and tuck it in.

Don and I soon became known as the 'odd couple', after the movie. Most people didn't realize that Don was closer to 'Felix' than I. Had things turned out that way, he could very easily have settled into a relationship like Hanna and I had and that would have been the end of his life as a party animal.

From my standpoint, his best feature was that he was loyal to his friends. He visited our apartment often and usually stayed for dinner. Though he obviously appreciated her beauty, he never hit on Hanna nor even hinted that he would if encouraged. We appreciated that. We'd study or talk, or work over the playbook. Hanna was always a part of things-keeping it fun-and Jason became his little buddy. Once in a while, he'd get a 'faraway' look in his eyes, when he looked at Hanna and Jason. We asked him about it, but never got an answer. "It was another life..." he said and changed the subject.

I learned Don and his thinking. And we both learned what the coaches were teaching us about recognizing defenses, and how to adjust to them. The result was that, though a tight end, I caught more passes than any other receiver. Don and I enjoyed making the other look good. He'd throw one out there as far as he could, counting on me to get under it. Or I'd adjust and make the catch when he couldn't get it where it should be.

We won our first five games easily and were four and oh in the PAC-10. But Don went down in game six with a cracked rib. He was only out three weeks, but it hurt. We had Rose Bowl dreams, but Don was a key to their fulfillment.

The backup quarterback, Chuck Grey, was a sophomore with a great arm, but not much experience. Fortunately, he was smart and he'd been working hard, preparing for his big chance. We managed to beat USC and Washington State in tough games.

Meanwhile, Don spent a lot of his time in our apartment. He explained, "The reporters all know the number at the fraternity. If I'm there, I have to answer the phone-constantly. Here, I can be myself, relax and heal, and keep up with my work... Have I said that I really appreciate your having me around so much?"

"No, Don... only once or twice this week," Hanna laughed. Jason demanded a seat in his lap, then promptly collapsed in sleep, as children his age do when they are tired. Don again got that look in his eyes.

"Don," Hanna asked, "won't you tell us what bothers you? You have a deep hurt, and it involves a child, or I'm a dim sum."

With a sad smile, Don said, "You're anything but a dim sum and you know it. OK. I'll tell you about it. But I have to know that it will never go any farther."

We both swore to keep his secrets, and he told us his story.

When I had just turned sixteen (Don told us), my sister, Kathy, was fourteen. She is one of those girls who can be mistaken for twenty-five, when she puts on makeup and dresses 'adult'. She also has a mature outlook and the sweetest spirit I've ever known.

We'd always been best friends, sort of like you two. I never understood other boys who talked about girls like something slimy, or as if they were from some different planet. Kathy and I knew all about our physical differences and that we looked at things from a different perspective. But it was no problem. We shared our similarities and celebrated our differences.

Like most kids, we'd 'played doctor'-though it wasn't a big deal, as we'd been open with each other about everything, including our bodies, as long as I can remember.

I'd been thinking about girls as sexual beings for a couple years. Then Kathy came into my room one evening, from the bathroom we shared. She was naked, from her shower. I remember thinking that she was beautiful. Her breasts were swelling and her hips were no longer straight up and down, but were pleasant arcs from a pinched waist.

She was excited. "Don, look here!" she waved something at my face.

"Look at what?"

"I'm having a period!"

"So? That's what girls do."

"Dummy. It's my first period. Now I'm a woman. I can have babies!"

I stood and embraced her and told her I thought it was great.

A week later, she was back, crawling naked into my bed.

"Kathy, what the hell are you doing?"

"I want you to teach me about sex," she stated in her straightforward way... Well, I said we'd always been open with each other.

I was sixteen. I would be lying if I said I wasn't turned on. But I had to be honest. "Kat, I'd love to. But I'm not sure I know any more about it than you do."

"You mean, when you go out with Vikki, you don't... ?"

"No. We don't... Kat, I... Damnit, I'd really like to teach you, but it isn't fair!"

"Huh? Why not? We can teach each other."

By that time, my cock was doing ALL my thinking, and I agreed. Kathy and I did teach each other. We learned what the other liked and didn't like; where to touch and where to stroke. After a couple months, either of us could get the other off in less than four minutes.

"Don, there's one thing left," Kat told me one evening, as we lay panting on her bed.

"No, Kat. We can't do that."

"Why not?"

"It's wrong. It's incest..."

"So? What we've been doing isn't?"

You know how it is when you're sixteen...

It was no contest. Kat won.

It was fantastic! More wonderful than my wildest wet-dream.

She seemed to feel the same way about it. We couldn't get enough. We were soon, literally, addicted to sex-with each other.

[Hanna and I looked at each other. We certainly knew where he was coming from.]

For the first two months, we were crazy. Then, at least I had sense to start buying and using rubbers. We hated them, but Kathy was not willing to ask Mom to put her on the pill.

That went on until the summer after I graduated from high school. Kathy finally asked mom about the pill-said she'd been having real trouble fighting her urges. She'd rather be safe than all of us be sorry, she said. So she saw the gynecologist and got a prescription. When she started taking the pills, she thought she was protected immediately, not knowing she needed a month or so for them to become really effective. I didn't know any better, either. So we had unprotected sex-and she got pregnant.

[By this point, Don was close to sobbing. We could tell that this was the first time he'd talked about this with anyone. Hanna put an arm around him and held him, while I got a glass of wine for us all. After wiping his eyes, thanking Hanna, and taking a gulp of wine that deserved more attention than he gave it, he continued.]

Somehow, the fetus was damaged. Kathy carried it long enough to know she was pregnant-morning sickness and all that. She figured she'd been pregnant eight or nine weeks when she miscarried.

Of course, Mom and Dad had fits, when they learned she'd been pregnant. And they hadn't a clue who was the 'dirty bastard' who'd knocked her up. I didn't know about it until I went home one weekend and Dad cornered me for a confidential talk-he wanted to know if I knew who it was.