Chapter 3: Freshman - Miss Rowell wearing black

Mr. Oldham and Suzanne were surprised when I stayed at home on Wednesday night.

"I wish I had known you were going to be here. I would have planned something special," Suzanne commented. "You do plan on having Thanksgiving dinner with us, don't you?"

"Yes, Aunt Suzanne," I said, catching her off guard.

"John, he's reminding me that I'm not his real mother again," she said, good-naturedly.

We had a big Thanksgiving meal, just the three of us. Suzanne and Mr. Oldham talked about previous Thanksgivings when they were growing up. Suzanne was quite open, telling of little things that took place in her family. She said that being the only girl had its advantages but also there were drawbacks. Mr. Oldham recalled one Thanksgiving when he was eight years old. The turkey came out of the oven overcooked and his father raised so much hell about it that his mother stayed in her room crying all day. It was hard for me to imagine Mr. Oldham ever being eight years old. I didn't have a Thanksgiving story to tell but the closeness we shared, three unrelated adults posing as a family, made me think of my own family.

My mother's telephone rang ten times before I gave up. Where could she be? It dawned on me that she could be at work and that's where I reached her. We talked warmly for several minutes before she became distantly sullen. "I hope you're nice and comfy in your posh room, Sammy. Did you have your fill of turkey today while your sister went hungry?"

"What do you mean? Heather isn't going hungry," I fired back at her.

"How would you know? Just when she needs you the most you've abandoned her."

"What are you talking about? I sent her money for months. She's twenty-one now. She can start supporting herself," I said, hoping it didn't sound as hollow to her as it did to me.

"No she can't. If you weren't so self-centered and selfish you would know that she's expecting and really needs help. I've got to go attend to a patient; she's dying and needs me."

I put the receiver back in its cradle, feeling numb. I didn't believe her, not about the dying patient nor about Heather expecting a child. First, my mom was a nurse's assistant, not a nurse. She had left nursing school without graduating just before Heather was born. Would a nurse's assistant be expected to attend to a dying patient? And why hadn't she told me about Heather when she came for the visit?

I sat down at my computer, fuming.

Thursday, 23 November 1989

Dear Heather,

Why didn't you tell me you were expecting? When are you due? Enclosed is a check. Tell me what you need and I'll try to help you.

Your loving brother,

Sammy

I wrote the check for one thousand dollars, put a stamp on the envelope and drove to the post office to place the letter in the outgoing box. I was back in my room, still feeling down from the telephone call and the prospect of my sister being destitute, when the call came from Jeannie. She was the only Baldwin daughter at home and said she simply had to get out of the house. Josh and his mother were at his grandparents' house.

I admitted that I needed to get out of the house, too. Seeing Jeannie would be fun. It would also give me the chance to tell her to stop encouraging Marcy to give in to Press.

"You're looking good. How does if feel to be a senior?" I asked when I got in the car with her. It seemed strange to ride with Jeannie driving. She had always been the kid sister to Jessica and Cindy and I still thought of her as being a little girl although I'd had sex with her.

"You've let your hair grow out!" she exclaimed. "Looks great on you."

We went to a movie and nearly got thrown out of the theater for making so much noise. "Jessica's coming home for Christmas," Jeannie whispered in my ear. Her lips felt soft when they grazed my cheek. I noticed her hair smelled clean.

"Is Cindy still coming?"

"Yeah, we'll all three be together for a few days."

We watched the movie for several minutes before Jeannie leaned over and put her lips to my ear again. My cock jumped when I felt her breasts against my arm.

"Let's get out of here," she whispered.

This can't be happening. She's Josh's girl. I've got to control the situation.

I was relieved when she said she wanted to go to the ice cream shop and talk. That's what we did. Jeannie told me about Josh playing quarterback and how proud he made her feel when they danced together after the games. She wanted to know about Pontiac College and if I was seeing anyone there. I told her no.

"You've got to stop telling Marcy to go all the way with Press," I said, looking stern.

"Why?" Jeannie asked, sounding shocked.

"She's not ready."

Jeannie squint her eyes and smiled. "Are you sure you're not saving that honor for your self?"

I didn't have an answer. How absurd. All I could do was laugh.

"As I recall," Jeannie paused, smiling, "you're pretty good at taking a young girl's virginity."

"That's not it at all," I answered, defensively. "Marcy's like a..." I paused, "like my best female friend," I said, unable to get Heather out of my mind. How could I think of Marcy as a sister when I couldn't take care of my own sister?

Jeannie kept me in suspense until she stopped in front of my house. "Okay, I'll tell Marcy sex isn't always what it's cracked up to be, but I can't guarantee that she'll save herself for you," she quipped, just as I was closing the car door. She sped off before I could tell her it wasn't about Marcy saving herself for me.

I found things to do in my room Friday afternoon, working on my journal, reading, doing anything to be near the telephone. I was surprised when Suzanne said I was wanted on the downstairs 'phone. Had Karen forgotten my number?

Wanda Rowell was friendly, in an 'I'm-superior-to you' tone. She was asking, well, she was reserving a ride back to school with me. All she wanted to know was what time I was planning to leave. All remaining details were assumed. I couldn't refuse her. I told her I would be leaving Sunday morning at six am. She said she would be ready. I assumed that meant that I was to go by her house and pick her up?

Karen was in a somber mood on Friday night, receptive to my advances, giving, but not her fun self.

"When is Christmas vacation? Will you call me? Will you write? Will you tell me if you see more dominoes?"

We did the full split on the living room floor again because she knew how much I enjoyed it. I know how much she enjoyed it too. You couldn't count the number of times she came. This time we were both naked from the start. We both enjoyed it a lot, even if it took forever for me to come.

"That was quite a workout," I said when we kissed goodnight. We had started the night with a blowjob before I had a chance to undress and then we fucked twice on the bed before she did the split on the living room floor.

"Tonight was our fifth dot on the domino. Some dots stand out. I hope you look back at this one with fond memories."

"I'll always remember this night," I said.

"This dot was special," she said, clinging to me, like she wanted me to remember our parting too.

The next morning Mr. Oldham was ready to talk about my trouble at school.

"I've asked Cary to find out what they have on you. If he can't make any headway on the 'phone or via fax he'll pay the college a visit. If he comes over there he'll look you up so be available to spend some time with him."

"Yes, Sir," I said. I knew Cary Abrams was Mr. Oldham's attorney, not a real estate specialist or a company employee. I believe he had something to do with my adoption papers.

"Do you know who this kid's parents are?"

"No, Sir."

"Cary will find out. We'll head this thing off before it gnaws at you," he said.

"Thank you, Sir."

I didn't tell him that I had slept lightly since the fight, always on the alert. Sometimes I hoped Roland would come in and jump me so we could get it over with. But he never did.

I got everything ready to load in my car early the next morning. Suzanne pestered me, reminding me to drive carefully and to be pleasant to my passenger, Miss Wanda Rowell.

"Be on your best behavior. Her father is an important member of the Cobra Board," she reminded me.

I didn't know what the Cobra Board was but I knew Suzanne was warning me to be pleasant to Wanda for a good reason. She didn't waste words when it came to business. "And get a good night's sleep tonight. You have a five hour drive ahead of you," she reminded me.

Her calculation of five hours to drive the three hundred miles was out of thin air. We hadn't discussed how long it took to make the trip and she'd never gone along but her estimate was close and I had to respect her wishes. Besides, this was going to be my last good night's sleep for a while.

We got on the road about six thirty, fifteen minutes later than I had planned, because Wanda wasn't ready when I got to the Rowell home. Her parents invited me inside the house and offered me coffee while we waited for Wanda to get her shit together.

The Rowells acted as if they didn't know their daughter had promised to be ready to leave when I got there. They were accommodating and I tried to be on my best behavior per Suzanne's order. If Mr. Rowell was really ill, as Wanda had claimed when she visited Mr. Oldham's office, he hid the illness very well. Mrs. Rowell's build and facial characteristics were very similar to her daughter's, but English was definitely her second language. She spoke with nasal tones that made me think she was French.

Wanda finally appeared, dressed in black, a Navy pea coat and slacks, and carrying a large duffle bag that I tossed in the back seat. She hugged her parents and waited for me to open the car door for her. When I got in the driver's side she was whiffing the air, like she smelled Ann's pussy. Damn, I thought I'd gotten rid of that smell. The groundskeepers had never complained about it. But Cecile and Noreen never complained about anything except being taken home early.

We didn't talk for the first half of the trip. I wondered if she was thinking about last night. Had she had a night like mine? No way!

My last night with Karen was all I wanted to think about and I was content to make the whole trip in silence with a smile on my face if that's what Miss Rowell wanted.

Our sixth night together was a little different from the other five. To start with, we actually had dinner and, instead of the lounging apparel that she had so casually discarded before, she wore a long evening gown.

Kevin, now a seven-year-old second grader, had dinner with us and objected to being sent to his grandparents' house for the night. Karen appealed to his desire to be a 'big boy' but he didn't buy that trick. He wanted to hang around and watch us play dominoes. Karen countered, saying the game we were going to play was too complicated for a seven year old. She offered to teach him the game when they were alone. When that didn't work she turned to me in desperation.

I didn't know why she had mentioned playing the game of dominoes but that was how I opened my argument. "Your mom is going to teach me the game tonight and she'll teach you how to play when I'm gone. When I come back at Christmas we'll play. I only have one night to learn how to play. You'll have four weeks. Do you think you will be able to beat me?"

Kevin smiled and nodded. "Will you really play with me?"

"I will but you're going to have to let your mom give me a private lesson tonight, okay?"

He cocked his head, like he smelled a rat. Karen suggested that he call his grandmother to let her know he was on his way. "Say goodbye to Sammy," she said.

"If he only knew the games you're going to teach me," I said after Kevin left.

Karen took a seat on my lap. "I'm a wicked mother," she lamented.

"Do his grandparents know what's going on over here?"

"Mmmm ... They think I'm wicked too. But they're accommodating my indiscretion as long as their grandson is protected."

She sat there on my lap, waiting for me to ask another question. I couldn't think of anything else I needed to know.

I think she wanted to make our last night together special. But really, it wasn't much different from the other five nights, except for the removal of her clothes. The dress was black with a plunging neckline. She wore nothing underneath and once we got the dress off everything else was familiar. We knew each other's bodies, what we liked, the sounds we made to approve or disapprove of what the other was doing. There were no surprises.

Even though I knew them intimately, I would never tire of her small breasts and hairless pussy. The thing that continued to astonish me was her compliant nature and her acceptance of the domino theory. She no longer accused me of using the falling domino as a seduction device. She said she wanted to believe in the dots.

I got her to tell me how she gained the ability to spread both legs out at one hundred and eighty degrees into a full split. She lay with her ass on the side of the bed and hinged her legs out parallel with the edge of the bed.

"I started ballet when I was in kindergarten and could already do this," she said, holding out her hands for me to take them. I looked down at her pussy, admiringly. My cock was twitching with anticipation.

"I'll bet the little boys liked watching you back then."

She smiled and I felt her pull me closer, until my cock was touching the outer folds of her pussy. "Later, I took up gymnastics and that's what I did until high school."

She pulled on my hands and my cock cracked the folds of her outer lips. "Back then I could hold my legs like this for hours but I'm out of practice now."

We held hands as I pushed into her. "I played basketball in high school."

We were still holding hands as I began to move. "That's when I developed a big butt and muscular thighs."

I moved in and out slowly, listening as Karen continued to explain her sports background. "I played tennis in college. My fat ass and strong legs were a good fit for tennis."

"Your ass isn't fat and you have beautiful legs," I corrected her, watching for a reaction to my thrusts. Except for an occasional twitch of a facial muscle you wouldn't have known that we were joined.

She was maintaining the split. "Thank you," she said, "but I think your perception might be influenced. She was still holding my hands and speaking in a matter-of-fact tone, like my cock was having no affect on her.