Chapter 21A

Monday got off to a bang when I gave Bud his morning wake-up and he gave me a serious pounding. It had been a couple of days since I had ridden a big cock or worn my pacifier and my pussy had shrunk all the way back to near-virgin status. When Bud tried to push into me too quickly, it made tears come to my eyes. He stopped right away when he heard me cry out in pain.

"You OK?" he asked.

"Yes," I said, biting my lip and sniffing back a tear. "Don't stop! Please don't stop! Just go a little slower. I'm sorry. I've gotten tight again."

"You sure have! I can feel it," he said. "It feels great. Like the first time all over again."

"For me too. But please be gentle; as if I was Jolene. OK?"

After that, it was all he could do to get his cock into me without losing his load in the process. Thinking about fucking Jolene made him so excited that he could hardly stand it. All the time he was trying to ease it into me, I could feel his cock throb and jerk as if it were about to explode any second.

His arousal was contagious. Feeling him stop and hold very still while the compulsion to cum faded set me on fire. It was as if his excitement was pouring into me, filling me with his heat over and over until I was the one who was dying to climax.

It seemed to take forever for him to work his big cock all the way inside. I felt every glorious inch of it sliding up inside my pussy and force its way into my womb. It was incredible! When his pubic hair at last brushed against my clit, I could hardly stand the intense sensation.

When he was fully inside, he trembled like he couldn't take it anymore. He clenched his jaw and ground his groin into my clit.

I lay back and quivered with anticipation as his big cock flexed and then spat a powerful stream of hot cum into me. The scalding jet triggered my climax and I clutched him to me as he filled me up. The heat rushed through me, radiating outward from my womb. I felt like my body was an expanding balloon and my consciousness was sitting on the very top as it soared upward. The feeling was so real that my eyes flew wide open and I stared up at the ceiling as if I were about to crash through it into the sky.

Just as I thought for sure that I was about to smash into the plaster and lathe, I felt the balloon pop and my mind become weightless. The heat of my orgasm rose to a blistering level, sending me screaming into the void of pleasure. It seemed that I floated there for a long time, but when my head fell back onto the pillow I knew it had only been a few seconds at most.

I lay on Bud's bed with his sweaty body half covering mine and exulted in the feeling of riding a really great orgasm as it slowly diffused through my nerves and my blood and my bones, leaving me exhausted and rejuvenated, spent and recharged, wasted and fulfilled, all at the same time.

"Now that," I moaned emphatically, "is the right way to start the day!"

Bud managed a weak chuckle.

"Couldn't have said it better myself. But you may have to carry me to the shower. I think I put everything into that one."

I was feeling so good I couldn't pass that up. I rolled us over and pried my pussy off his bloated cock; then I picked him up off the bed and carried him like an oversized infant into the bathroom between his room and Jim's. I set him down on his feet in the shower stall, smiled up at him tenderly and cranked on the cold water.

I had to speak up so he could hear me over his screams.

"Don't be late for school, darling!" I told him as he frantically tried to turn the valve around to get some hot water going.

On my way downstairs to do my chores, I told myself that I was just being playful, that I hadn't mistreated Bud for cumming so hard while thinking about Jolene while he was screwing me. There isn't a jealous bone in my body.

School was average. For a Monday, I mean. Or maybe it was just an average Monday. Nothing at all happened that was terribly interesting. Steve was officially in training for the match on Saturday and had to save his strength. Jim and Neeka got together by themselves between classes and so did Bud and Jolene. I saw Polly at Gym, but we got split up on different volleyball teams and the best we could do was to share a washcloth after class.

I was just coming out of my last class for the day when Angie came up beside me.

"Guess what!" she said, excitedly.

I had a sudden feeling I knew 'what', but I was wrong. It wasn't about George.

"I had a date on Saturday!" she said, bouncing and holding my arm.

"Great, Angie! Who with?" I asked, bouncing along, even though I wasn't sure why.

"Myron Benedict!"

I knew who Myron Benedict was, but I didn't actually know Myron, if you know what I mean. He wasn't the kind of person a cheerleader would normally hang with, and even as an ex-cheerleader I hadn't so much as seen him in the hall between classes.

Myron was kind of a nerd's nerd. As best I remembered, he wasn't bad looking. In fact, aside from being as thin as a rail, he was sort of handsome. But he was in the Science Club, the Chess Team, and he worked in the school library in the afternoon when everyone who wasn't playing a sport was watching those who did. If he had anything like a social life, I wasn't aware of it.

"Myron Benedict?" I echoed, cluelessly.

"Yes!" Angie bubbled. "And guess what? He has a car!"

Suddenly I thought I knew where this was going.

"You didn't!

"I did!"

"No!"

"Yes!"

"Tell me everything!" Maybe then we could both stop bouncing.

She dragged me around the corner of the cafeteria's delivery entrance and fortunately upwind of the dumpster.

"I ran into him in the hall on Friday. I mean, literally. He had his nose in a book and wasn't looking where he was going. I tried to dodge, but he dodged the same time I did and we smacked into each other. His books flew everywhere and we got tangled and we both ended up on the floor.

"Neither of us was hurt or anything, but it was awfully embarrassing. He just sat there, blinking at me. I thought he might have lost a contact, you know? So I got up in his face to see, but I couldn't tell. Then I wondered if he wore contacts at all and if he didn't then he must be wondering what I was doing staring into his eyes like that.

"Well, I got flustered and I didn't know what to say, so I said the first thing that came to mind."

Angie seemed to wind down some. She smiled crookedly and said, "I said what you told us to. I said 'Hi', then I asked him if he liked oral sex."

"And what did he say?"

"Nothing. He just looked at me like I was talking jibberish. Then he smiled. It was great! Right then I knew we had connected, you know? It was like we had moved past all the awkwardness and stuff and we could relax and be comfortable with each other."

"Intimacy breeds intimacy," I observed.

People are programmed for relationships. You act a certain way around your family, another way around your friends, and another way around strangers. We think there are rules for these relationships and we unconsciously try to follow them. This is why you get so nervous about your parents meeting your boyfriend or going on a blind date with someone you've never met — it messes up your practiced patterns of behavior, like putting a chameleon on plaid.

I had proven to myself that it was possible to make people jump from one relationship framework another by changing the rules on them. Take a stranger and act like they were your friend and they would follow that set of rules along with you. Never mind that they may never have laid eyes on you before, they will fall right into certain patterns of behavior that they associate with that relationship.

This means the best way to make new friends is to treat them like your old ones, and the best way to make a guy into your boyfriend is to treat him like you have already been intimate or that it's just about to happen. It puts them into a state where they will do anything for you. They become eager to please and very pliable. You can then wind them around your little finger with no trouble at all.

"Yeah, like that! Anyway, we talked for a few minutes about stuff and then he asked if I wanted to go see a movie or something on Saturday."

"Looks like Myron didn't want to waste any time. You must have made quite an impression."

"You think? So I said 'sure!' and we set it up, then we both split. Saturday, he shows up to pick me up in this little car that looks just like Neeka's but not as old, you know?"

"I know."

I think she meant 'run down' rather than 'old' but she was being polite.

"Anyway, he's got on about a gallon of this awful cologne, so I make him drive with the windows down so some of it can evaporate and I can get close to him without needing to hold my nose. We talk some in the car on the way and we find that we both like a lot of the same things — movies, books, food and stuff. The surprising thing is that he talks like normal people, you know. I thought he was this genius-type guy who would be over my head a lot of the time like... Well, like another very smart person I know."

I have no idea who she meant. I let it pass without comment.

"So, we get to the movie and the place is packed. There is a line around the building and the radio station van is parked out front. So I tell him, 'We don't have to do this. We can just go park somewhere if you'd rather do that.' I swear; he left skid-marks getting out of there. I didn't think those cars could do that.

"He drove us out to the old Clark Supermarket building over next to the river and parked so we could look out on the water through the cattails. It was so romantic! There were a couple of other cars out there but he stopped far enough away so we wouldn't be disturbed.

"When he turned the car off, there was this awkward moment when neither of us could think of what to do or say. I was trying to think of something when I noticed that it was going to be hard us to snuggle because of the darn big console in the way."

"Oh!"

"Yeah. Getting in the back seat wasn't going to work either. You know how small the back seats in those cars are?"

"Very cramped," I said, remembering how Sue and I had almost knocked out the back window of Neeka's car.

"Damn right. So I'm sitting there trying to think of how to get us back to where we were when we met, and my hand is just sitting on this nice thick gear-shift. I'm just casually running my fingers up and down the thing when I notice that Myron is staring at my hand like I had seven fingers or something. I keep fiddling with the thing and the more I fiddle, the harder Myron breathes. It's like he knew what I was thinking and he couldn't wait for the show to start!

"I couldn't disappoint him after that. I told him to get in the back and I would show him something he would never forget. As soon as I though seriously about doing it, I got sooooo hot that there was no way I wasn't going through with it. Myron crawled over into the back and watched while I stripped off my clothes until all I had on was my socks and sneakers.

"When I turned around and straddled the console, I thought he was going to die, he was squirming around so much. He had to sit with his legs split and I could see that the crotch of his shorts was stretched very tight over his... you know."

"So, could you see everything?"

"I could tell his religion! Seriously, his thing looked huge to me. It looked so uncomfortable all trapped in there, so I told him he could take his shorts off if he wanted."

"Did he?"

"In about a second! His undershorts too! When he took hold of it and started pulling on it, it made me so hot I thought I would swoon!

"When I got the top of the shift-thing into my pussy, he gripped his cock so tight it looked like he was strangling it. I rubbed around for a bit to get it wet and then I slid down on it until I was sitting on the console, just like you did. It felt so good, I think I must have started cumming right away. I don't remember much about it, except that it felt so darn great to have him watch me ride that hard stick like that.

"It must have really turned him on because I had only been fucking it for a couple of minutes when his thing just exploded all over me, covering me in streams of his stuff. He just kept shooting it on me and moaning like he was dying! It was great! I had a really big cum and so did he!

"Afterward, he helped me to get off the shifter and he wiped off all the sticky stuff with his t-shirt. Then we just crawled into that tiny back seat and he held me. I was in heaven! Thank you for teaching me that trick, by the way. It's a lot of fun by myself, but it's even better with someone who's really getting off on watching me do it."

"What happened then?"

"While he was holding me, I was holding part of him, if you know what I mean?"

"Un hunh."

"Well that part got limp and then, while I was holding it, it started getting hard again. He started moving his hips like he wanted me to rub his... cock, so I did. He liked that. He liked it a lot. After a little bit, he wanted to put it in me. I was kind of keen on the idea, too. But there just wasn't enough room in that darn backseat."

"What did you do?"

"We got out of the car. I was so giddy and hot by then that I didn't even think about someone seeing us. Well, maybe I did, but I sure didn't care! When he backed me up against the car, I just laid back on the hood, spread my legs and let him have his way with me."

"'Let him have his way with you'? I haven't heard that one lately."

"OK, I let him stick his hard cock into me and fuck me silly. Is that better? Give me a break, I'm new to this. That night was my first real time... with a boy."

"Sorry."

"Anyway, he lasted a lot longer the second time. It was better for me. And it just kept getting better and better, the longer it lasted."

"Did you cum again?"

"And again, and again! I've never felt like that before. Is it always that good?"

"If you're lucky. Did he use any... protection?"

"You mean, like a condom? I was so turned on I didn't even think about it. I just wanted him to do it to me, you know? I didn't think about getting myself preggers until later. By then I didn't really care if he did or not. I was having such a good time that if he asked me, I would have told him to go ahead and knock me up."

"He didn't pull out?"

"Yes, he did. He came all over my stomach instead."

"You sound disappointed."

"I guess I was. I mean I am. I mean, I don't exactly want to get pregnant, but if it happens I won't be heartbroken about it. I've always wanted babies. At least, for as long as I've been, you know... able to."

"Yeah?"

"My mom had me when she was younger than I am now. All the women in my family had their babies when they were young. And we're a big family. Now, anyway. I have four girl cousins within a year or two of my age. Two have already had babies and three are pregnant now. It's almost a tradition."

"How about a career?"

"Sam, my career is going to be raising children and making my husband happy. That's a tradition in my family, too."

I wanted to tell her not to make up her mind too soon about things like that, but she seemed to know what she wanted and she apparently had a lot of support if she did get pregnant. A lot of company, anyway.

I was just a teeny bit jealous. I guess every girl dreams of having babies. It's instinctive. But some of us have careers, too. Mine just made it impossible for me to settle down to family life just yet.

Angie ran off when Myron pulled up in his dusty little car with the big clean spot on the hood. I wondered if either of them realized that it was kind of obvious what made the spot. Then I wondered how long Myron planned to wait before he absolutely had to wash his car.

They both seemed very happy. They were an odd couple, but no odder than many. I was happy that they were happy.

I walked through the parking lot, smiling to myself when I saw a familiar plain tan car drive slowly down the road. I dug into my bag to check if my phone was still on, and it was. Then I walked to the closest street and waited for good old Bob Foster to pull up.

"Hi, Sheriff," I said when he rolled down his window.

"Afternoon, Sam. Um, pretty day, isn't it."

This didn't sound good. Sheriff Foster had never seemed socially awkward to me before, but now he was almost stammering. Something had him upset. Something that wasn't a police emergency.

"It sure is. Hang on, I'll hop in and we can talk."

I went around and got in the passenger side. His car was very clean for being several years old. I figured it was getting some special treatment at the Department Motor Pool, or whatever they called it.

He had stopped at the drop-off/pick-up curb, not in a parking spot. I was about to say something about that when I remembered that he wasn't likely to get a ticket.

"Sam, I know we had an agreement. About keeping your identity confidential and all. And I want you to know that I have kept to the letter of that agreement. I have fended off all the papers, the TV people, and the busybodies who think they have a right to know everything about everybody in town. But I had a visit from someone whose, ah, request I couldn't refuse."

"The Governor's Office?" I said, helpfully. Mom had predicted this, so I wasn't totally shocked that he wanted to meet me.

"Heh! I knew the Governor before he got into politics. I even helped in his first campaign. I can tell him to piss off and make it stick. No, I'm afraid this goes higher up than that."

I suddenly had a chill and it wasn't from the air-conditioning. I wanted to ask the obvious question, but I couldn't bring myself to do it. Foster answered it anyway.

"This comes from the Homeland Security people. Senator Fowler called me and told me they were sending someone down. He implied that if I refused to talk to this gentleman, that the next call would be from higher up."

"Higher? You mean..."

"Yah. This has got just a little above my pay-grade, if you know what I mean?"

"I do."

I thought I did. I thought I was ready for this. I had thought a lot of things that were starting to seem like wishful thinking — squared. It's funny how a harsh enough light can really evaporate your daydreams and light up your nightmares. At one point, I had been scared of being hauled off by men in black suits and never seeing the light of day again. That one seemed to be casting some long shadows at the moment.

The back door of the car opened and Neeka got in, dragging her garment bag with her. I had been so caught up in imaging what Foster's visitor wanted that I hadn't noticed her approach.

"You didn't think I was going to duck out on you now, did you?" she asked, silently.

"OK, Sheriff," I said, more confidently. "We can go now. Let's go talk to the man from Washington."

If he was startled by Neeka joining us, he hid it well. He just nodded and put the car in gear.

Foster drove us to the Federal Building downtown while I tried not to let my nerves get out of control. After what seemed like a very short trip, he turned into the underground garage and the guard raised the gate as though we were expected. I started a log of events to support my budding conspiracy theory.

"He probably just knows the Sheriff's car," Neeka said. "Relax."

That was easier said than done, and I failed miserably. When I got out of the car, I was so nervous that I had some adrenalin going and when I shoved the car door shut, it made a noise so loud that I thought the window would break. A couple of people who had just got off the elevator turned their heads at the noise, but things always sound too loud in bare concrete rooms, so they went on with their business.

"Sorry," I said to the Sheriff.

"Don't worry your little head about it." His folksy manner was sliding all over the place. Another time, he might have thought twice about using an adjective like that to me.

Foster took us up in the elevator to a plushly-carpeted hallway and then opened the doors at the end onto an even more plushly-carpeted meeting room that was lined with wooden shelves neatly filled with tan and red law books. The parts of the room that weren't expensive-looking wood were green marble with little streaks of gold in it.

"Your tax dollars at work," Neeka said, silently.

I smiled at that as I walked into the room. It was probably a good thing. The first impression I made wouldn't be that of a terrified girl.

I was only a little surprised when the door shut behind us and Foster was no longer there. Whatever level of political power existed in this room must have made him very nervous. I kept the smile on my face by an effort of will.

I shivered, but not from nervousness. The air conditioning in this building seemed to have been intended more for a meat locker rather than a workplace. It seemed darn cold to me and Neeka agreed. For the first time in weeks, I wished I had worn more clothes. My thin white blouse and my pleated hip-hugging flip-skirt were fine for the school's marginally-adequate air-conditioning, but not for some place trying to simulate polar conditions.

The man sitting on the far side of the conference table seemed very young to be an emissary of the powers-that-be. He was thin, dark-eyed, black-haired, and had such a prominent hook-nose that I glanced at his head to see if he were wearing a yarmulke. When he stood, I saw that he was very tall, as well.

"Good afternoon, ladies. My name is David Solomon." He flashed a warm smile and held out his hand across the table.

I leaned over to shake his hand. Despite the low temperature of the building, his palm was just a bit damp and I wondered if Mr. Solomon might be just a tiny bit as anxious about meeting us as I was about meeting him. That would explain why he seemed to want to keep the table between us.

"So," Solomon said, sitting down, adjusting his shiny grey suit-coat and motioning us to the leather chairs on our side of the dark, thick table that I assumed to be mahogany. "You must be The Dragon. And you are..."

"Ace," Neeka volunteered.

He could have got that easily enough for himself. We had been dropping that name freely.

He offered us coffee or soft-drinks, which we declined. Then he said, "I'm pleased to meet both of you. I must say, you seem... shorter... in person."

I decided not to be offended. It could be a ploy to put me at a disadvantage and I wanted to keep a clear head. I knew he had to have seen the TV footage. And even I had noticed how I looked taller standing on top of the tank, so I really couldn't blame him for the comment.

"It's hard to judge much of anything when I'm suited-up. That's one of the reasons for wearing a disguise," I confided, setting my heavy bookbag in the chair to my right and sitting down in the chair opposite Mr. Solomon.