Chapter 11: Spring 1989-4 Cindy comes home

Polished belt buckles, spit-shined shoes, squared corners on beds and standing inspection at all hours of the day were coming to an end. Five days of review, three days of examinations and a two-hour graduation exercise were all that remained of my days, my weeks, my months, and my years at Cromwell Military Academy. Those were the thoughts that crossed my mind during evening formation.

Well, not really. My thoughts included my reward from Barbara, next weekend with Cindy and, dare I hope, Karen baring her ass for my inspection.

Interruptions, caused by cadets coming into my room to pour out their troubles, consumed most of Sunday night and made study impossible. It didn't take me long to discover the real purpose of their visits. They had no problems that needed my attention; they were curious about Karen and the car. "Is she as hot as she looks? How did it feel when she kissed you? That's a TR-8, isn't it? Is it an 80 or 81? Does she swallow?"

"Get the fuck out of here," I said to the last one, banging my fist on my desk, smiling to myself as a frightened Cadet retreated. Karen had created a stir among my fellow cadets. Karen had created a stir in me.

No new subject material was presented in class. The time was devoted to review and since my extracurricular activity, the drama club, was finished for the season, I used the free time to prepare for final exams. I didn't want anything interfering with my precious time with Cindy.

I refused to confer with anyone but room leaders with two exceptions. I had 'the talk' with Jerome Foster for the second time because I owed it to his brother that Jerome was well prepared.

"You're going to be a room leader next year and I recommended you as a member of the Colonel's advisory staff. I would advise you to play football but don't let football dominate your life. Concentrate on being a good leader and doing well in class. Don't disappoint me," I said to the tall black cadet. He stood at attention and never wavered.

"Thank you, Sir. I appreciate everything you've done for me."

"I didn't do it for you. I did it to pay back your brother for what he did for me. Send Maize in please. You're dismissed."

Eddie entered my room, concern showing on his face.

"At ease, Maize, are you ready for your exams?"

"Yes, Sir."

"I just wanted to say ... that ... I just wanted to wish you luck ... not that you need it. You'll do well. That's all I wanted to say."

We looked at each other, eyes moist. I didn't know what else to say. "How's Celia?"

"She's fine, Sir ... thank you for asking ... and you how are you?"

"Couldn't be better," I said, rising to my feet and extending my hand. "I just wanted to say so long. Things may get weird around here next week."

"Thank you for everything, Sir. You've been like... ," he said as he took my hand.

"You're dismissed, Maize," I said, sinking back into my chair, unable to say more. He did an about-face and left my room.

"You've been like ... a brother," I whispered, finishing his sentence.

Ned looked askance when he picked me up on Friday afternoon. "Where are your books?" he asked.

"I don't need them. I'm ready for anything," I answered him.

"Did you see a domino?"

"No," I laughed.

"I've been thinking about what you said. Penelope thinks you may be psychic or something. She wants to talk to you about the dominoes."

"Good," I answered. I welcomed the opportunity to talk with someone. I had considered talking to Dr. Koskowski about the dominoes.

"She suggested that you come to dinner tomorrow night," he offered.

"Cindy's going to be home from school," I said, thinking that was all I needed to say.

"You can bring Cindy," he countered.

What could I say? Ned never made demands on my time unless there was a good reason. I suspected it had been Penelope's idea to invite me and he didn't want to disappoint her.

"Okay, we'll be there but we won't stay late," I said. Ned smiled, knowingly and told me that dinner would be served at seven P.M.

The falling domino announced Cindy's presence before I entered the house. I felt a spot between my shoulder blades quiver as I opened the back door, knowing the domino had something to do with Cindy. It was the same combination, three dots and one dot that I had seen twice before.

I heard her before I saw her. Cindy was seated at the kitchen counter, casually chatting with Suzanne. They spotted me at the same time. Suzanne said something, "there he is now," or something like that, but I didn't hear her. My full attention was on Cindy, who was rushing toward me, giving me only seconds to take in the wide smile, the slender neck and long arms, the hair. There was something different about her hair.

We kissed, briefly and embraced, laughing. I knew the laugh, but there was something different. She felt the same, what was it?

"You made Colonel!" she exclaimed when we separated to look at each other.

"Major," I corrected her. "You streaked your hair."

"Highlighted," she corrected me. "It's called highlighting. Do you like it?"

I didn't like it. In addition to 'highlighting, ' her hair she had cut it shorter than I had ever seen it before. I nodded, glancing at Suzanne at the same time. She was shaking her head, slowly showing her own disapproval of Cindy's choice of hair coloring.

"It's ... different," I said.

Cindy was looking at me, critically examining the scar on my cheek, feeling the slight indention, and measuring how much my beard had grown since my morning shave.

"Dinner will be ready in a few minutes. Why don't you change out of that monkey-suit, Sammy?" Suzanne suggested.

Cindy turned to Suzanne, without removing her hand from my cheek. "I can't stay for dinner," she said. And then, turning back to me, "but I'll help Sammy pick out something comfortable to wear."

Suzanne voiced her disappointment that Cindy couldn't stay, but acknowledged that she understood. She had to eat dinner with her family on her first night at home.

I stopped at the entrance to the sunroom to say hello to Mr. Oldham, but he wasn't there. "He promised to be here in time for dinner," Suzanne informed me.

We climbed the stairs, hand in hand, a big grin on our faces. Cindy was dressed in white pants that clung to her thighs and ass, a red top stretched across her chest and she had white sandals on her feet. It was the first week in June and warm outside, but her bare arms showed she wasn't planning on staying until the night air would require sleeves. I was crushed to realize she wasn't staying. Was there a chance of seeing her later that evening?

As was my custom, I began disrobing the moment I entered my room, heading for my closet to hang up my uniform and find something else to wear. I paused, thinking something seemed strange; this was the first time Cindy didn't laugh at my toy-soldier wallpaper. I was placing my pants on a hanger when I heard her speak.

"Your machine is flashing. Want to hear the message?"

She entered the closet and was standing next to me when the machine started to play.

"You have four messages."

"Tuesday, eleven-eleven P.M."

"Three hits and two walks tonight, one was a double and I scored twice. I knew hitting third would make a difference, but I didn't think you would be able to convince Karen to let me. I owe you one. Call me to arrange the time and place."

Cindy gave me a questioning look. I shrugged my shoulders and placed my shoes on the top shelf where the shine would be protected.

"Thursday, ten-twenty-seven P.M."

"It happened again, two singles and a triple. But you only get one BJ; that was the bargain, right? Call me."

Cindy's mouth flew open and her eyes became big, a half-smile on her lips.

"Friday, five-fifteen P.M."

"Our game is at ten tomorrow. Can you pick me up at nine-thirty? Call me."

Cindy recognized Curtis' voice. "Don't tell me you're still babysitting him?" she said, accusingly, but fell silent when we heard the next time stamp.

"Friday, five-twenty-nine P.M."

"Sammy, did you hear from Barbara? Tell me if she doesn't pay off. I'll put her so far down in the lineup she'll bat after the pitcher. Oh, can you come to practice tomorrow? Call me."

"Who was that?" Cindy asked, accusingly. "Who was the other one? What did you do to get blow jobs?"

I tried to put my arms around her, but she backed away. "It's nothing like that," I tried to explain.

"It sounded like something to me. Who's Barbara? Who's the other one?" she asked, backing up more to stay out of arm's reach.

I was down to my shorts and socks, having forgotten about finding something comfortable to wear.

Cindy was at the door, ready to leave when I caught up with her. I coaxed her back inside the room, promising to explain everything. She took a seat in my desk chair, refusing to sit on the bed with me.

"You're going to laugh at this," I began. She relaxed slightly, leaning back in the chair, tapping her fingernail on the arm, like she was measuring the time she was allowing me to explain the messages.

"The last one was Karen. We've played mixed doubles a couple of times and she coaches a woman's softball team," I said, pausing to see Cindy watching me, still suspicious.

"I've been to some of their practices and met some of the players," I added, not disclosing my role as a babysitter for Karen's six-year-old son or her offer to introduce me to some of the single players or show me her bare ass.

"Who's Barbara?" Cindy asked again. I think she could see where this was heading.

I took a long lung-filling breath. "She's the shortstop. She wanted me to help convince Karen that she should be batting third and she..."

"You didn't?" Cindy blurted out. "You sold out for a blowjob?" she asked, accusingly as she turned to the answering machine and pushed the play button again.

"You have four messages."

"Tuesday, eleven-eleven P.M."

"Three hits and two walks tonight, one was a double and I scored twice. I knew hitting third would make a difference, but I didn't think you would be able to convince Karen. I owe you one. Call me to arrange the time and place."

Cindy nodded her head, like she had it figured out. I grimaced, knowing the next message would confirm her suspicions.

"Thursday, ten-twenty-seven P.M."

"It happened again, two singles and a triple. But you only get one BJ; that was the bargain, right? Call me."

Cindy stopped the machine and gave me a sly stare. "She got six hits and you get one blowjob. That's doesn't seem fair to me." Her voice was taunting, almost jovial.

"It was all a freak accident. I didn't think Karen would take me seriously. She made me tell her about Barbara's offer. I never thought Barbara would actually pay off. I don't plan on collecting, honest," I said, surprising myself at how serious I sounded.

"How old is Karen?"

"Twenty-six."

"She's the coach and she knows her players are bribing her doubles partner?"

"I guess you could put it that way," I had to admit.

Suzanne announced that dinner was being served. I found some sweats to put on and we started downstairs.

"What made Barbara want to bat third?" Cindy asked when we got to the stairway.

"She's probably insecure," I answered, having decided that was the reason.

"What makes you say that?"

"She bats left and throws left. How many left-handed shortstops have you known?"

This struck Cindy as hilarious and she was still laughing when she reached the bottom of the stairs. She said hello to Mr. Oldham, followed by goodbye to both him and Suzanne.

I escorted Cindy to the front door. We were making plans for the next day when something stuck her as amusing.

"I don't want you to miss getting your blowjob from the left-handed shortstop," she laughed. I assured her that I had no intentions of collecting, but she didn't believe me.

The night passed slowly. I called Karen and found that their practice was scheduled for one P.M. Curtis's game was at ten A.M. so I would be able to make both.

Curtis said his parents couldn't make it to the game. I told him to be prepared to make it a day as I was going straight from his game to the ladies' softball practice.

"Aren't we going to stop for lunch?" he asked. I assured him we would. It was assumed that he would bring his sister along.

I wondered if Cindy would be willing to tag along to the little league game and the softball practice; probably not.

I looked at the telephone, willing it to ring. Cindy hadn't said anything about calling me, nor had she ordered me not to call her. I was considering calling her when the phone rang, answering my wish.

"You didn't call me. Don't you want your compensation?" Barbara asked.

"Compensation?" I asked, bewildered. I had never heard of a blowjob being referred to as compensation.