Chapter 183: What now?

As soon as I got onto the interstate, I called Paula, Anna and finally Molly to get their thoughts about Emily’s town fertility dance. Of course, all three knew all about it. I was a big reason Molly sent her contact information to Mary. Yes, Emily had been in a funk, but Paula’s people in her town keeping her safe and had ever since she left the hospital, due to her magical recovery. These people would have intervened, however needed, should things become concerning. Unknown to Emily or her mom, they ensured that any egg Dick may have fertilized, should he not have used a rubber, would never implant in her uterus.

“David, I did a lot of research into the numbers,” Paula told me. “As you know, the town had a large issue with teenage pregnancy that started in the seventies until the town decided they needed to address the issue. At that time their teen pregnancy rate was in the high ninety percent range. If not for those who could not conceive, were uninterested, or some other reason, they would have been at one hundred percent. It appears that the town found a loophole, of the forms. With each planned pregnancy, with full parental consent, and during the period defined, wouldn’t count towards their teen pregnancy numbers. High school girls who got pregnant outside this time window, and those who were not yet in high school, counted. Fertility dance babies took the last name of the mother and the father listed as unknown. It greatly simplified matters that for the girls to participate their parents had to agree they would raise the child as if it was their own, as far as anyone out of town in concerned. So far this year they have had ten true teen pregnancies this year. This is extremely low when compared to towns surrounding them and other parts of the state. Their only spike was in nineteen eighty-one. A company in a neighboring town found themselves in a problematic situation caused by the unexpected success of one of their products in the early spring. Their product demand increased fifty-three times their current production. They needed people to assemble, test, package, and load this product for delivery by the end of August to have it on shelves for Christmas. Anyone sixteen or older would start at twice minimum wage, have transportation to and from the production facility, and they covered daycare costs for children up to eleven years old. Finding they still needed more hands, they paid fifteen-year-olds under the table, providing they had a parent working there as well. With the factory running twenty-four seven, anyone not already having a job went to work there. School ended a month early due to finding the high school teachers were making more money supervising and training their high school students than teaching. Elementary school teachers worked at the daycares the factory was funding. Then there was the heatwave that started mid-April and ran until September. Most homes in that town only had window air-conditioners that they rarely used. Everyone who went to work at the factor worked sixteen-hour shifts, with breaks and free meals, some pulling two shifts on, one off. The city pools never opened that year due to staffing issues.”

She put me on hold to deal with something urgent so I just focused on making good time while waiting on her to come back.

“As I had been saying before being interrupted,” Paula resumed saying. “The town’s middle school children were unsupervised, bored, with no open public pools, and curious about what was going on in the bodies. Sexual education teaching came toward the end of eighth grade, so none of them had any clue about pregnancy or birth control. Many had parents that were only home long enough to get some groceries, pay bills, sleep, and get ready to go back to work. Some cheap above ground pools appeared in some back yards and soon became the places to hang out, as were anyone with a shaded yard and a good sprinkler. What many around there still consider funny is that not even two weeks after school was out the eleven to thirteen-year-olds, who hadn’t yet started puberty or were only in Tanner Stage Two, were going around naked. Their curiosity about what he other sex had between their legs got their more developed peers curious too. Those physically able to have sex were doing so by the start of June. Similar large numbers of teenage pregnancy plagued cities all around the factory.”

I’m right.

Emily still lived in one fucked up place, even if what they were doing made sense.

The conversations felt like they had taken a long time, but they barely took a dent out of the total driving time home. I stopped about halfway home to find somewhere to each lunch. My phone showed a bunch of places, but an all-you-can-eat place stuck out.

I don’t have to haul ass to get home, so a nice long lunch works for me.

I pulled off the exit and followed the signs to the restaurant.

When I was pulling into the parking lot, I quickly saw that this was clearly a local teen hangout, like the food court near my school. I pulled in between two old pickups so old that they had long since lost their badges. Looking at my car and the trucks, my car looked worse than the old rusted pickups. As soon as I walked inside it became obvious that they were trying to figure out who I was and I if I lived around here.

Thankfully Molly had given me jean shorts and plain t-shirts to wear. Something that was always kind of in style everywhere.

All the tables and booths had at least two people sitting at them. I asked the waitress for a table for one.

“Honey, I take it you aren’t from around here,” she said as she walked up to me. “It doesn’t matter you ended up here today, you sure picked the right place to get some meat on your bones. Sorry, but this is our busiest time on the weekends. We’re completely out of tables and booths. Since it is only you eating alone, you can over to the tables where people wait for us to seat them. I’ll get you a check started.”

I didn’t even have to wait for someone to get my drink order. She put a cup at my spot with my check. I got some soda before heading off to the buffet tables.

Wow! This place looks like a bad dive bar, but they do have a lot of good food that I like.

From the buffet I loaded up a plate with BBQ pulled pork, steaks, and corn.

Can’t tell mom about stopping here. The food is better than what she had cooked at home lately.

I was working on my fifth plate when a girl walked over.

“None us use have seen you around here before, so I got voted to find out stuff about you,” she said like she was asking to put it on her Fakebook page. “Mom said it’s rude to speak with your mouth full, so you can tell me stuff between bites.”

She got the standard rundown kid ask someone new. I told her my name was David and I was heading back home after visiting a sick friend over the weekend. A quick look at her phone, and the leather guy’s class ring around her neck, told me a lot about her.

Before I told her anything else, I put down my fork and said, “Want to see a magic trick? You name is Sally, you’re dating a senior on the football team, where you’re a sophomore at Bob Robert’s high school. Cool trick, right?”

She went pale as she did her best imitation of a fish. The kids close enough to hear us started laughing.

Leaning close to her ear I whispered, “You’re still a virgin, wear plain, little-girl white panties with pink trim, haven’t done more than hold hands with your boyfriend, and you stuffed your bra to keep your sensitive nipples from brining you off all the time. If your boyfriend is gay, or pretending to be, nod your head.”

She did better this time, but I got a nod too.

In a whisper she asked, “No one knows you and we just met. How do you know so much about me that you shouldn’t? Only my mom knows I wear padded bras because of why you said I wear them. No one here even knows my boyfriend’s secret. I really must know how you know this, but we can’t talk about it here. I will come ask for a ride when you’re done eating and pay your bill.”

Ok. Now things are getting weird. Well, at least weirder than what is normal for me.

The kids in the restaurant began clearing out as I was working on my seventh and eighth plates. When I started working on dessert, I was pretty sure how I knew all I did about Sally from just my quick observations.

The waitress looks like she wants to kiss me just for paying my fifteen dollar and twelve cent check with a twenty. I headed to the bathroom while I waited on my change.

She is going to really go bonkers when she sees the twenty-dollar tip, especially since all she did was take away my dirty dishes.

In the booth with Sally was a girl looking close to our age. Her phone showed her name as Patricia, but she went by Pat. From what I heard she was trying to get a ride home now that everyone else was leaving. Her face clearly showed that she was hoofing it home.

“Pat, Sally already asked if I would give her a lift home. I have the time if you don’t live, like, twenty miles in the other direction from Sally and along a road with twenty-five mile an hour speed limit,” I told her.

Might as well tell her what I know about her from just being there a few seconds, so I told her, “You’re wearing your sister’s bra because it lets everyone see your tits if you are leaning just the tiniest bit forward. Before you come back here again, go to Ball-Fart first. You seriously need to get some of their odor-reducing, moisture-wicking panties. They will work better than a pad or panty liner to keep from leaving huge wet spots, like you have now, without looking like you are wearing a diaper under your clothes. There aren’t many virgins left in your high school. If you keep wearing puke-colored panties, you will be the only girl to graduate a virgin since the nineteen forties. That will turn off a bus full of Boy Scouts that haven’t been able to jack off in two weeks.”

Now she is doing the fish impression.

“Are you two coming, or do you plan to get another ride,” I asked them.

I saw them looking at the ticket as they whispered back and forth to figure out how they were going to pay it.

After putting two twenties on the table I said, “Oh jeez! Really girls? Sally your dating a football player. Maybe you two get lucky and someone picks up your bill most of the time, but not today it seems. Sorry for rushing you, but I’m halfway home and still need to do my homework for tomorrow. My friend was in a very bad place, so I grabbed some clothes and hauled ass. I really don’t want to be up half the night studying.”

Neither seems to be complaining about me paying. Wonder why Pat nervously reached over to hold my hand?

Sally climbed in the back to buckle into the middle seat. Pat didn’t try to even hide it as she unbuttoned her shirt to just below her bra. When she turned toward me to get into the car her tits were on full display.

I guess she is really trying to see how far she can make herself go with a stranger, or something.

When she was facing the front, she leaned down like she was trying to find the bar to adjust the seat. Then she asked if I could get it for her. She didn’t know how to respond to my pulling her shirt and bra to the side to get one of her rock-hard nipples in my mouth to attack it with my tongue. Instead of using my hand to adjust her seat, I pushed my hand under her shorts and panties to rub her clit.

With all the teasing she did at the restaurant, thought she would have gone in instantly, instead of taking close to five seconds.

“Sorry. Really. I keep forgetting I’m not driving my mom’s car. Mine has power seats. Just use the controls on the side to move it around. The tilt used to work, but since I never ride in that seat, I have no idea if it works now or not,” I told her as I got her shirt and bra centered again as I sat up.

I took my time walking around my car like I was checking it out. Once I saw that Pat had told Sally about what I had done I opened the driver’s side door and got in. They pointed me back toward the interstate.

“We have country fairs here all the time and none of their side-show people ever knew any of what you told us. Now that there aren’t any ears listening in you must tell us because you didn’t miss a thing about us, not even the private things like my boyfriend or details about our panties,” Sally demanded.

“Your names, school name, and grade were super easy to find out,” I explained. “Like every other girl with a cell phone you can’t stop checking it every few seconds. Seeing ‘Sally’s Phone’ and ‘Pat, not Patricia; gave me that info. The school name is on your boyfriend’s ring. Unless you two are getting it on in secret, a lot, he wouldn’t have giving you that ring right after the school year started. Now ... For the juicer details.”

Go ahead and squirm for a bit, this is going to be a lot of fun.

When safely stopped at a red light, I turned, reached back, and pulled up on the waistband of Sally’s panties. Pat was wearing cutoff jean shorts, so was easy to see the color and that she had on a pad.

Pat was glad she had on a pad by the time I was done telling them about working at the underwear store, why, and that I never knew there was a size twenty-eight X.

Once the fat jokes finished and the girls stopped giggling, I said, “Sally you’re wearing pink-trimmed nun panties. Pat’s panties are at least panties a girl trying to lose her cherry, or one that had already, would be wearing. No boy would ever try to get in those panties Sally. They scream little girl. Don’t touch. Your bra was too easy. First the padding made your breasts too round for the size of your bra and you had goosebumps on your arms and legs when you were talking to me. Your nipples had to be hard enough to cut glass, but there wasn’t even a hint of them pushing out. All the girls there had their hard nipples pushing out their bras. Pat was reaching for the fork she dropped and gave me a good show. Your barely an a-cup wearing a c-cup bra. Your mom would never buy a bra that was made to only be pretty but give no support. She doesn’t look like someone going around stealing a friend’s bra, so it had to be her sister’s. Even if was your bra, it is for softball shaped breasts that are far apart. Yours almost touch in the middle. Then we have Pat’s fat nipples ready for breastfeeding. You mom’s bra is at least a DD.”

They asked more questions to be sure no one just tipped me off.

To push my point home I told them, “Sally you don’t wear a bathing suit when you go swimming. One-piece and bikinis would need you to trim back the hedge. Boy shorts would make it clear you never cut the grass. Pat would still be bald as a little girl if not for the few hairs that grew on the sides and the few right above her clit. Not even close to having your first period explains why you have the pad too far back in your puke-colored panties. Pat, I bet you don’t even know that you pulled your leg up so your foot is against your knee. Any boy walking past was getting a great show at your soaked mound spotlighted by the light reflecting off something across from your booth. No fancy trick or smoke and mirrors needed. I am just observant. I saw there were six girls trying to hide that they got knocked up last spring, probably on prom night. Eleven are only now starting to show they got knocked up in June. None of the eleven were trying too hard to hide it. If they were then they wouldn’t have worn shorts so tight I could count pubic hairs and shirts tight enough that you see their ribs. They made it obvious that none of them were wearing underwear, a clear sign they were looking for more fun. Seven will be repeating the seventh grade unless your school has some way for them to learn remotely and a way to take their tests.”