Chapter 7

It was near the end of senior year when Tabby's parents died.

I sat with her and her aunt Kathy at the funeral home, watching her trying to keep it together and almost crying myself. It seemed life was always bound and determined to shit into my cornflakes.

The funeral director was a huge fat guy named Alfred Barnestead, the complete antithesis of the stereotypical mortician. The only thing typical about him was the black suit he was wearing. He was rosy cheeked and white haired, almost a Santa Claus instead of a dealer in the dead. All he was missing was the long beard.

Kathy Langston was busy signing papers and doing her best to maintain a stern business-like appearance. The fun-loving, partying, comic book and skin mag dispensing woman was long gone, leaving behind a tired looking mid-forties women who had just lost her favorite brother. It broke my heart a little to see the fun leak out of her like an old balloon.

Luckily, David and Barbara had made their own arrangements long ago and all that was needed was to sign the papers confirming things. The funeral costs were also prepaid, so that wasn't going to be a bother either.

"I believe that is all we need," Barnestead warbled. He had a reedy thin voice that sounded like Little Anthony from that doo-wop group, the Imperials. In spite of the situation, I wanted to laugh every time he spoke. It was so funny hearing that tiny voice from this huge ass guy.

"The service will occur day after tomorrow at three P.M. with viewing tomorrow evening at six. The caskets have been pre-arranged by Mr. and Mrs. Langston and you need not be any further involved. Will there be any questions?"

"No," Kathy said, taking a deep breath and rising to her feet. "I believe that's all we need."

"Very good, and let me once again express my sympathies to you for your loss." The guy actually sounded like he meant it too.

"Thank you," we said, and filed out of his office quickly. None of us wanted to be there anymore than strictly necessary. I bet he was used to people hurrying out of his office like they had an appointment five minutes ago.

Tabby clung to my hand, still silent. Her face was pale - for her anyway - and her eyes were dull. She was walking like a robot, her normally bouncy walk a plod. Her curls hung limp and lifeless. I was really worried about her.

Of course, I wasn't much better. The Langstons had been like parents to me for over ten years, and their death had come as quite a horrible shock. But I wanted to be strong for Tabby, so I did my crying by myself.

"Are you kids hungry or something?" Kathy asked, once we were back in the station wagon.

"No," Tabby said lifelessly. "Let's just go home."

I nodded agreement and Tabby burrowed into me, like a little girl. On any other occasion, it would've been quite romantic, but now all we wanted to do was to comfort each other. I stroked her lifeless hair and tried not to cry, both for her and myself.

It was the night of the senior prom that it happened.

After that Halloween dance, both of us had gotten part-time jobs. We didn't like it since it meant more time apart, but we were doing it for our futures. Due to the Langstons' income Tabby couldn't get much financial aid, and I was just too damn lazy for all the paperwork. Bureaucracy was something I hated with a passion. Also, back in those days, you could still get a Harvard education for less than fifteen grand, so college wasn't completely out of my reach as long as I worked part time and didn't blow my money on beer and cigarettes and stupid shit like that.

So I got a job in town working for a hamburger stand and Tabby got a job in the library. My paper route I had given up a long time ago to a new kid, and I had about four hundred dollars saved from it (a lot of it went toward my guitar and amp a couple years ago.)

I worked four to nine Monday through Thursday, and so did Tabby, so that part worked out. By the time of the senior prom, I had worked there two years and I had a grand total of eleven hundred dollars in the bank.

I had set aside some money for the prom night, knowing Tabby would want to celebrate in style; a girl only gets one senior prom and I wanted hers to be as special as I possibly could make it. I didn't rent a limo, but I polished my new car and waxed it and detailed the interior till it was shiny as a new pin.

My eighteenth birthday present from the Langstons had been an only slightly used Mustang Cobra. They were hot items down at the Portland Meadows, but I wasn't interested in racing. I loved that dumb ass song by the Rip Chords though, and I sang it every time I got in the car. "Hey little Cobra don't you know you're gonna shut 'em down!"

Tabby bought her dress in March. I was not allowed to see it, just like the dress for her thirteenth birthday party.

As I had predicted, her eighteenth birthday party was spectacular. The Langstons had sprung for a keg and left twenty kids at the farm, making Tabby promise that nothing which would bring Bryson back to the house would occur. Barry and the boys played a raucous set and some stuff we just made up on the spot, and which none of us could remember in the morning, although Barry swore there was a tune in there that would make us millions and millions. "I swear it's true," he'd say, every time he would recap that party in future years. "There was a song we did that would've been bigger than "Satisfaction." I swear it."

The prom was being held on May seventeenth, 1966. Barry and I had been supplanted by a professional band, which was all to the good. None of the band members wanted to play; we wanted to be with our girls on this special night.

Mrs. Langston took pictures by the thousand, it seemed. "You two are so grown up," she sniffled, clicking away. "I remember when Tabby dragged you in here twelve years ago, looking all scared. Now look at you."

"He sure ain't the same little squirt he was back then," David nodded, posing for a father daughter shot.

Indeed I wasn't. I wasn't a hulk, but I had grown to six-two and one-ninety, pretty respectable. Tabby herself was no pixy anymore, standing at five-eight, pretty damn tall for a girl back then. It also meant we didn't look totally ridiculous standing together. Her heels put her right about at five-ten tonight.

She was wearing an elegant off-the-shoulder gown, light blue with small ruffles at the cuffs, bosom and waist. Nothing ridiculous, but she was definitely dolled up. Her hair had been wrestled into a teased do piled on top of her head, held together with bobby pins. She was wearing a little makeup, but only a little. A light floral scent misted around her, just enough to tease and tantalize, but not enough to choke on. I was very proud to have this girl on my arm for one of the pivotal events in our lives.

I had gone into town and, after picking up my tuxedo which I had been measured for way back in March so I would be first in line, I got a small corsage, and I had carefully pinned it to her dress, while Tabby gave me a smile bright enough to blind me.

"You'd better let us go if we're going to make dinner on time," I said to Mrs. Langston, who was still snapping pictures. "Don't worry, I paid for photos too, so you'll get to see us dancing."

"Oh thank you," she gushed. "I know you guys will be the best couple there. God, I'm just so proud."

Giving us hugs and telling us to try and be home by dawn, they sent us on our way.

There was a lot more leg exposed as Tabby got into the low-slung Mustang and I didn't even bother trying to hide my appreciation of it.

"Down boy," she smiled, carefully and deliberately lowering the hem of her dress. "You'll get your chance." And she stared deliberately at the front of my tux pants and licked her lips.

Over the years her voice had lowered until it was a husky, smoky blues-girl voice, and she was making full use of it now. I closed her door and quickly walked a little bowlegged around to the driver's side. Did she mean what I thought she meant?

"Where are we going for dinner, Bobby?" she asked in that smoky voice of hers.

I cleared my throat and started the rumbling engine. "We're going into Portland. There's a steakhouse called Anderson's that just opened up earlier this year. I've heard good things about it, so I made reservations."

"Oh good," she laughed. "I was expecting you to say we'd go to Suzie's Diner out on Grand Boulevard and think we were dining in high style."

"Hey, what do you think I am," I squawked indignantly, "some kind of country bumpkin with no culture and no class?"

She smiled again and patted my knee. "Well, if the shoe fits..."

"Aren't you the one who dragged me to the god damn farm in the first place, girly?" I asked.

"Yeah, blame a lil girl like me," she pouted, pretending to sulk.

"We could skip the damn prom and go find a symphony somewhere if you want real culture," I smirked.

"Don't you dare," she said, glaring at me.

I laughed. "Okay, okay. So you don't mind being stuck with an unclassy country bumpkin like me?"

She sighed in mock exasperation. "Well, if I must, I must." Then she smiled and held my right hand, making me feel warm all over the way it always did. "Tonight is going to be great, I just know it, Bobby."

"I think so too," I said, squeezing her hand and turning the pony loose to run on the highway. "Definitely!"

The steakhouse was excellent. It appeared we were the only prom couple to be there, because the place was pretty quiet. There were only about a dozen couples in the dining room, and one old guy sitting by himself. He looked up and smiled at us, and then went back to his newspaper and his coffee.

The most surprising bit came at the end of the meal. Our waitress came up to us and said that the old guy was paying for us. He saved us about forty dollars, for which I was glad. He said we reminded him of he and his wife, the way we looked at each other and touched hands through the meal. He tipped his hat to us and headed out the door.

"Well that was odd," Tabby murmured, sucking thoughtfully on a mint.

"Nice of him though."

"He seems incredibly lonely," Tabby said, still softly. "I can't imagine what life must be like for him, seeing echoes everywhere."

"That's depressing," I said, thinking about it for a second. I heard that old song in my head. I memorized the note you sent, go all the places that we went. I seem to search the whole day through, for anything that's part of you. That would be one fucking sad life, indeed.

"Enough depressing stuff. We're here to have a good time. We'd better get rolling."

"Lead me to my chariot, peasant," Tabby said, standing up and looking haughty.

"Your chariot awaits, Madam," I said, bowing extravagantly and offering her my arm.

When we got out of the restaurant into the mild spring air, I saw the old guy leaning against a lamp pole smoking a cigarette. His hat was pulled low over his eyes so I couldn't get a good look at his face, but he had the look of a once athletic guy who had kind of wasted away. I thought it was a trick of the light, but he looked a little shimmery, like I was seeing him through a heat wave.

He nodded at me and kept watching as I escorted Tabby to the Mustang. Really weird.

"Well, this isn't up to my usual standards," Tabby sighed, eyeing the Mustang the way you might gaze upon a rag which has been used to clean up some dubious spill, "but since it's all we have, I suppose I can cope with it tonight."

The old guy laughed quietly from behind us. I ignored him and opened up the passenger door. "Ah, but just wait till you see how fast it goes, my lady."

"Hmph," she huffed. "Speed isn't everything."

I got in behind the wheel and revved the engine. I loved that sound, all them horses under the hood just itching to go. "It might not be everything, but it's sure fun anyway," I said. We pulled out of the parking lot in a spray of gravel. The last thing I saw was the old guy by the lamp pole, waving at us. And he still looked creepy.

This was the hard top Mustang, so Tabby didn't have to worry about her hairdo getting all messed up by the wind. This being the era before the double nickel speed limit, we tore down the freeway at ninety miles an hour, with the radio blaring. The big hit everywhere, of course, was Question Mark and the Mysterians song, "Ninety-Six Tears." I turned it up and we sang along as the miles disappeared.

We pulled up in front of the high school at seven forty-five and got out, Tabby clinging to my arm like it was the most precious thing in the universe. There were young, ripe girls in dresses everywhere, but I only had eyes for Tabby.

We gave our tickets to the principal, who was manning the table in front of the gym door. "Have a good evening," he told us, before turning to the next couple in line.

"Let's find Barry and the others," I said, pulling Tabby toward one side of the gym.

"Nuh uh," she snapped, yanking back on my arm and giving me a poisonous glare. "Tonight is our night and you're not going to spend it yammering with those guys about guitars and cars and honkytonk bars. Got it?"

"Yes ma'am, loud and clear," I laughed. Guitars and cars and honkytonk bars ... there had to be a song in there somewhere.

"Good," she said, the glare morphing into her usual beaming smile. She wrapped both arms around mine and leaned her head on my shoulder as we traversed through the gym. It was a completely female gesture that said "this guy is mine, hands off."

Apparently all the other band members' girlfriends had said the same thing. I caught sight of Barry, with Melissa Saunders on his left arm. He shot me an apologetic look and nodded slightly toward her. I got it.

I took a look up at the band on the stage. There was a piano, a couple of guitars, a drum set, a bass player, and even a guy playing a trumpet, or some kind of horn anyway. Maybe it was a saxophone.

Just then the band started up and I suppressed a groan. It was old swing music. I had nothing against it per se, but this was not going to be a good night for a lot of people. Not many knew how to ballroom dance.

"Oh noooo," Tabby moaned, hiding her face in my shoulder. "I don't know how to dance to any of this stuff."

The crowd was beginning to express their displeasure. I heard booing start from the back of the gym and it quickly escalated. The band came to a screeching halt and the frontman, a short guy wearing an army style crew cut and a Gibson guitar laughed heartily into the microphone.

"Gotcha there guys," he snickered. "We got nothing against modern jazz, unless they try to play it too darn fast. Let's get to some real music!"

The crowd hollered and jeered at him and he just laughed at them. Then he strummed a triumphant E chord and the band was off into "Rebel Rouser."

I dragged Tabby out onto the dance floor and we danced. We danced to the fast songs and we moved in real close for the slow songs, or we did until the chaperones moved us apart with a ruler, snickering at us while they did it.

There was one absolutely hilarious moment during the prom. Tabby had to visit the ladies' room and I wanted something to drink, so we went our separate ways for a little bit.

I was waiting for Tabby near the hallway leading to the rest rooms when Tabby came out. I was getting ready to go to her but before I could, a guy named Milton Farmer, one of the guys on the wrestling team, stumbled toward her. Milton was about five-four and maybe one-thirty. He was a tiny guy, but strong as an ox.

I guess somebody brought liquor to the dance, because Milton was more than a little drunk. He came up to Tabby, looked over her appreciatively and, gazing up, up up at her hungrily, said in what he thought was a seductive voice: "God, I could fuck you all damn night."

My mouth dropped open, but before I could do or say anything, Tabby's face scrunched up and I thought she was going to hit him. Instead, she looked him over just as slowly as he did, but with an expression of someone eyeing a pile of shit on the carpet they had to clean up. Then, she looked down, down at him. In a voice so cold it bordered on absolute zero, she said: "If you do, and if I ever find out you did..." Leaving the threat dangling ominously, she shot him a final poisonous glare and moved over and snuggled against my side again.

I couldn't help it. I dropped the cup of punch I was holding and laughed so hard I thought my ribs were going to bust. I leaned against the wall and howled like a hyena. "If I ever find out you did ... Jesus Tabby, that was fucking priceless!" And I howled some more.

Poor Milton, being drunk, just laughed right along with me, not getting that we were laughing at him. Even Tabby joined in, the way you kind of have to do when somebody is laughing madly. It's contagious.

Milton staggered away, probably forgetting all about us and Tabby leaned on me as I got control of myself. I wiped the tears off my face and rubbed my sore stomach.

"God, that was great, Tabby," I said, still giggling every once in a while. "That was the most brutal put down I ever heard."

Tabby smiled. "I enjoyed it too. That guy's a creep even when he's not drunk."

We went back onto the dance floor and picked up where we left off, and forgot all about Milton.

The very last song of the night was a real sappy song called "I love How You Love Me," which had been a hit a few years ago for the Paris Sisters and later redone by Bobby Vinton. The piano player, who was a reed thin girl with hair equally as short as the frontman's, did the singing. She had a very good voice and Tabby and I stared into each other's eyes as we swayed to the song.

"I love you, Tabby," I said into her ear, her light floral scent making me dizzy.

She snuggled her face into my neck and licked it gently, causing goose bumps to ripple everywhere. "I know that, Bobby. And I love you too."

She sang along with the piano player into my ear, using that low husky voice of hers. It was such a tender moment I almost cried.

"I love how your heart beats whenever I hold you," Tabby and the girl on stage sang. "I love how you think of me without being told to. I love the way your touch is always heavenly, but, darling, most of all I love how you love me."

It was one thing to hear it on the radio, but when your girl is swaying in your arms and singing into your ear, it takes on a whole new dimension. A lot of guys won't admit it because it ruins their macho, manly reputations, but having a woman think so highly of you is one hell of a motivator.

Chaperones and rules be damned, I danced her to one side and, when the song was over, I kissed her like it was our last kiss. She responded enthusiastically, her eyes closing and body relaxing into me.

"God, we need to get out of here," Tabby said breathlessly, pulling away from me just in time. I saw a chaperone coming in our direction.

"Do you want to go to an after-prom party? I heard Mike Smith was throwing one at his house," I offered. I didn't dare get my hopes up about what she had hinted at earlier.

"Bobby, you dumb ass," Tabby said, looking at me as though I had a head full of rocks. "I have an idea for our own party."

I couldn't help it. I grinned like the village idiot. And she smiled at me, that same smile I had seen on Mrs. Langston's face at the lake all those years ago. It's the "I'm your woman and you're the most important thing in my world" smile.

We got caught up in the bottleneck leaving the gym and I did end up talking with Barry for a little while after all. We did manage to avoid any mention of our guitars, cars and honkytonk bars, much to Tabby's amusement. We complimented our dates and said we'd had a great time. The closest we got to guitars was praising the band, which had actually been pretty damn good. If they had some original talent they might get a contract.

"See you guys Monday," Barry and Melissa said, heading toward Barry's truck. "We're going to Mike's house."

We waved and headed for my Mustang, Tabby rubbing my arm suggestively the whole way. I was harder than an iron bar and thankful that it was dark out so nobody could see my predicament.

"Well Bobby, I told you that I was saving my virginity till I was at least eighteen. What do you say? Do you want it?"

I looked at her like she was the one with a head full of rocks this time. "Of course I want it. But I want it only if you're really sure you want to give it."

She smiled at me and squeezed my hand. "I've wanted to give it to you for a very long time, Bobby. Now, find us a hotel."

The air in the car was filled with a sense of heady anticipation. My heart was beating fast and my palms were damp. Tabby wasn't doing much better. She was squirming a little, but I couldn't tell if it was with lust or nervousness. Her face was flushed and her hand was a little moist too.

We pulled up in front of the Clark County Inn on Seventh Street. I went in and got us a room and we went upstairs. When the door clicked shut behind us, sealing us into the silence, my nervousness doubled. My heart was pounding in my throat. Was I going to be good enough for Tabby? Would I fuck this up and make her first time a horrible memory?

Now that the moment was actually here, Tabby, normally a brash and spunky girl, looked shy, biting her lip and fiddling with the ruffles at her waist.

"Are you having second thoughts?" I asked, carefully keeping a bit of distance.

"No, I..." she paused and took a deep breath. "I've thought about this for so long - every girl does - and I guess I'm just a little nervous. But I'm not having second thoughts. You're the man I want, Bobby, and you've been since we were six years old."

I hesitantly held out my arms to her and she moved into them, snuggling her head under my chin. "Love me, Bobby. Love me like you mean it," she whispered into my neck.

I started by taking all the pins out of her hair. I loved that hair, it was so bouncy and full of body and life. Her lustrous locks (sorry couldn't resist that one) spilled onto her shoulders releasing a faint scent of coconut shampoo. I ran my fingers through it, hearing a purr from her as she nuzzled her face against my neck. It was cool and silky, like stroking an autumn night.

I tilted her head up and started kissing her. I started at her eyebrows and cheeks and worked my way to her mouth. She met my kisses hungrily, all her nervousness apparently gone, although mine was still there.

I moved down to her neck and started nibbling it. She tasted so good and her skin was so soft and supple. I could feel her pulse beating like a small bird under her skin as I nibbled over her veins. Her head went back and she sighed deep in her chest. I was marking my woman.

I moved behind her and unzipped the dress, which dropped gently off her shoulders with a soft rustling sound, pooling in an indigo heap at her feet, along with the slip she had worn under it. Then I stood back and just admired her in her bra and panties.

My skinny little Tabby had blossomed spectacularly. She was well padded, but not fat exactly. Her breasts were not enormous, but they were pretty big, more than a double handful but not much more. Her belly was rounded, just enough to obscure her hipbones.

Tabby shimmied out of her bra and panties, showing me dark brown nipples and neatly trimmed pubic hairs, then she did a twirl, showing me her butt. It was huge. Her butt was a work of art, jutting out behind her with a little bit of a shelf on top. I had touched it before, but always with clothing in the way. I wanted to get my hands on it now that it was uncovered, so I stopped her from turning back around.

"God your ass is beautiful," I murmured reverently, rubbing circles on her soft naked back and watching the goose bumps rise. I moved my hands down to it and started kneading it lightly, admiring the heaviness and firmness of the glorious globes of flesh in front of me.

"I know it is," Tabby said, and there was a bit of a laugh in her voice, mixed in with the lust. Her voice had gotten lower and smokier and it made my cock throb hearing it. "My ass is the best in town."

"In the state," I rejoined, coming back around her and reclaiming her mouth, keeping my hands on that ass.

I could smell the scent of what I guessed was her arousal. Her hips pressed into me and I decided I was overdressed, so I started to unbutton my shirt.

"Let me," Tabby said, breaking the kiss. "You admired me, now it's my turn."

She unbuttoned and removed my dress shirt and t shirt, tossing them unceremoniously onto a chair. She ran her little hands all over my chest and arms and shoulders, making me shiver the way I had done to her.

"Mmm," she murmured in her throat. Her eyes were wide and dilated and her lips parted. "My man."

"My Ebony Eyes," I choked out."

"Always, love," she whispered, kissing me again.

She got down on her knees and licked around my bellybutton, making me squirm. Then she untied my shoes and I stepped out of them, freeing her to undo my pants, licking each inch of skin as it was revealed.

Finally I was as naked as she was and she was staring at my cock. It throbbed and bobbed in front of her and she looked up at me.

"I've never done this before, but I've talked to a couple of girls and they say that I should get the first cum out of the way so the second lasts longer. So if I do something that's uncomfortable, let me know."

She didn't wait for an answer but carefully took me into her mouth.

She wasn't bad at it. She had enough sense to realize that teeth were a bad thing, and that the head was the most sensitive spot.

She started swirling her tongue around it like was an ice cream cone and in about thirty seconds, I tapped her shoulder. "It's coming," I managed to get out.

She locked her lips around me, gave me one more tongue swipe on the sensitive underside and I blew like a rocket. My head rolled back, my fist clenched and I pumped what felt like a gallon of sperm into her accepting mouth and I felt her swallow every bit of it. Only a couple drops escaped to run down her chin, and that sight instantly got my motor running again.

She released me with a wet pop, causing my cock to throb in protest at being outside of that warm place. Looking up at me, Tabby licked her lips and smiled like a cat.

"Holy damn," I said breathlessly. "Where did you learn that?"

"Girl Scouts," she said primly. "Now, it's your turn."

I led her by the hand to the bed and got her down on it. I kissed her, tasting my essence on her tongue and lips, but it didn't bother me. Then I kissed and licked my way down her body, squeezing and sucking her breasts until they were puffed and sensitive. I skirted her pussy and just licked her thighs, nibbling on the sensitive backside of her knees and just barely grazing her pubic curls.

"Damn it, don't tease me," she cried, her legs flopping open almost as if they had a mind of their own. Her musky arousal was igniting me again, making me want to plunge wildly into her and fill her with my seed. But I didn't want her to come away with a memory of a crude forceful first time. Also, she needed to be as lubricated and aroused as she could be to make the pain of penetration as minimal as possible.

"Your wish is my command," I said, and then I sucked on her outer lips, blowing lightly on her hot and feverish looking pussy.

Her hips bucked and she tried to pull my head inside her. I saw something stick out at the top like a little button, so I licked it with the end of my tongue and she cried out loudly. I ran a couple of fingers through her curls and around the opening of her pussy. The inner lips were open and seeping moisture. I guessed she was ready, but I wanted her to have at least one orgasm first, since she had given me one.

I stuck a finger inside her and sucked on her clit. I couldn't believe how tight she was; I could barely get that single finger inside. Her butt came off the bed and she clawed at my hair. I felt her inner muscles try to grab my finger and hold it, and with one final swipe of my tongue I pulled out of her.

She gave a loud moan/scream and relaxed slowly onto the bed, panting heavily and with a light sheen of sweat coating her body.

"Jesus, never mind me, where did you learn that?"

"Christian Fellowship," I smirked, coming up to give her a shiny, sticky smile. I was hard as a rock again and I wanted her.

"In me, I want you in me, now," she said feverishly. "Hurry!"

Our mouths got busy on each other and she pulled me on top of her, wrapping her legs around my hips. She was soft and warm and so female. I don't really remember lining up or pushing into her but there I was, poised right at the entrance to her vagina.

"Easy Bobby," she gushed, her eyes opened wide and breath coming in quick pants of need and nerves. "Go slow, slow..."

I eased carefully into her hot, tight wetness, quarter inch by quarter inch. Every molecule in me wanted to just slam and pound, because it felt so unbelievably wonderful, but luckily I was in control.