Chapter 11: July 5, 1978

“Where is she?” I grumbled to myself.

“It’s seven o’clock,” griped Magda. “She’s in bed where we should be. Why do we have to leave so early?”

“Because it’s a long drive home,” stated Dad as he put another piece of luggage in the station wagon. His tone indicated he didn’t want her to say anything more about it.

We were ready to go home. I had a great time with Murray the day before. The picnic was a huge success with ribs falling off the bone and enough food to sink a battleship. The two of us snuck away afterwards and I ate Murray out through the two orgasms. On the last one, I came prepared and so deliberately pushed a Vaseline-greased finger into her ass just as she came. Murray went spastic, orgasming so hard that she almost passed out.

Murray then had me stand over her as she lay panting on the ground and jerk off all over her body. That, of course, necessitated another dip in the lake to wash off. I help the weak-kneed Murray down to the lake. We laid in the lounge chairs until she had to go to the bathroom. She was all reinvigorated when she came back so we joined in the volleyball games and playing Marco Polo afterwards with Magda and several others.

After the fireworks, I asked Dad if I could stay up later than my normal curfew. Dad looked at his watch and told me I could stay out until eleven, much to Mom’s alarm. Mom immediately turned to Roman, who was sitting nearby, and lifted all of his restrictions. I turned and ran forward just as Magda about how she should be allowed to stay up late.

Murray and I ended up at the clearing, and it was a good thing. Murray ended up screaming out her passion bent over a fallen tree trunk with two of my fingers stuffed into her vagina and another two shoved deep into her ass. I spurted all over Murray’s ass after her orgasm as she lay there limply bent over the tree trunk.

Murray was totally spent. I had to half-carry her down to the lake to get cleaned up. Even the ice cold water only revived her a little. I barely got her back to her room and myself back to my cabin only seconds before my curfew time.

“Let me take that,” said Dad to Mom, picking up the suitcase she was carrying.

“Thank you, dear,” said Mom with a smile.

Dad returned her smile and pack the suitcase in the car. To me, any argument that Mom and Dad might’ve had last night was gone by this morning. I wondered if the two of them had managed to be alone. As soon as I thought about it, I got all embarrassed. I was thinking that Murray would like anal sex just as much as Mom did. I was luckily saved by the arrival of Aunt Susan.

“I couldn’t let you go without saying goodbye,” said Aunt Susan to all of us.

“We had a great time, Susan,” said Mom.

“Yes, we did,” agreed Dad. “We’ve been discussing it and we thought we’d stay for three weeks next year.”

“Excellent,” said Aunt Susan merrily. “I’d love to have you here. Write to me with the dates and I’ll put you down in the reservation book.”

“We thought the week before the Fourth through the week after the Fourth,” stated Dad.

“Very good,” said Aunt Susan. “I’ll send you a confirmation letter, Anton. I wish you a safe trip.”

Mom gave Aunt Susan a hug and went back into the cabin to make sure we hadn’t left anything behind. Aunt Susan waved to the rest of us and turned to go back to her house. I ran after her.

“Aunt Susan!”

She turned and waited for me.

“I ... I wanted to thank you,” I said. “I ... Our talks really helped me.”

“Really helped?” asked Aunt Susan pointedly. “Our talks weren’t meant to be a seduction guide.”

“Oh, no!” I exclaimed in alarm. “I haven’t ... I mean, Murray and I, we...” I tried to relax and took in a deep breath. “Murray and I haven’t had sex ... I mean, intercourse.”

“You haven’t?” asked Aunt Susan in surprise.

“Nope,” I answered softly, trying to keep an eye on where my parents were. “A lot of touching, but I was trying to respect a promise she made.”

“A promise she made...” repeated Aunt Susan. She looked me in the eye and smile. “I’m proud of you, Stephan. Most boys your age wouldn’t have cared about her promise.”

“Well, I did try to get her to break it, but...”

“Did you cross the line she had set?” asked Aunt Susan. I shook my head. “Then you did the right thing, I know it wasn’t easy.”

“Is everything all right here?” asked Dad, walking over. “We need to get on the road.”

Aunt Susan pointed with her head and asked, “Do you think you can wait five minutes?”

Dad and I both looked and saw Murray running up the hill from the motel rooms. She was carrying something and waved when she saw us looking at her.

“Five minutes,” Dad told me. “When you hear the car horn, you’d better come running.”

“Yes, Sir,” I said quickly before taking off towards Murray.

“Thank God!” gasped Murray as I approached her. “I thought I’d missed you.”

“You nearly did,” I told her.

“C’mon, let’s go someplace private,” she said with a gleam in her eye.

“I can’t,” I said. “Dad only gave me five minutes to talk to you.”

“Damn!”

“Hey, we’re coming back next year,” I said. “For three weeks, with the Fourth of July week in the middle.”

“That’s great,” said Murray, still slightly put out. “Maybe we can arrange to come at the same time. My parents said they like it here.”

“What’s that you have?” I asked, pointing to the book she was caring.

“Oh! Oh! I forgot!” said Murray, excitedly bouncing up and down. I noticed the bouncing produced a wonderful ripple effect. “I brought you a gift!”

She must’ve noticed my look of embarrassment as she then said, “Don’t worry. You gave me my gift last night. Here!”

“A composition book?” I asked, looking at the black-and-white cover.

“It’s for you to write down your experiences, thoughts, and anything else you want to jot down,” said Murray. She then looked downcast. “I’m sorry it’s not as nice as my diary, but it was the only thing I had.”

“It’s perfect,” I said. Murray perked up a little. “It really is. If I had a fancy one like you have, I’d be to ... self-conscious ... to write in it. I be afraid my words wouldn’t be good enough for. This book I’ll write in.”

Murray squealed in delight and threw her arms around my neck. The next thing I know she’s kissing me all over my face.

“Oh, God... (kiss) ... you’re just so... (kiss) ... hot! (kiss) ... I wish... (kiss) ... we could... (kiss) ... get away.” Murray stopped kissing me and looked me in the eye. “You promise to write in it?”

“I promise.”

Murray swooped in and gave me a big, wet, sloppy kiss. Her tongue darted into my mouth and she squeezed her body up against mine. She pulled back after several seconds with her lips all red and puffy, and spread out in a wide smile.

“Ooo, I’m gonna love reading it,” said Murray.

“Only if I get to read yours,” I joked.

Murray jerked in surprise and her eyes widened in shock. She then recovered and said, “Oh, no! A girl’s diary is sacrosanct. That’s where she puts her dreams of sugar and spice.”

“Trust me,” I told her. “I already know about sugar and spice as you can tell by my cooking. Why do you get to read my snips and snails and puppy dog tails?”

“Because I want to know more about you,” said Murray softly and touching my cheek. “I want to read about your snips and snails and puppy dog tails when we meet here next year. Okay?”

“All right,” I agreed, “but you probably find it very boring. Like, I gotta week at home before I head off to scout camp.”

Murray shot me a sultry look with her hazel eyes and said, “I think your year is going to be a lot more interesting than you realize.”

“What do you mean?” I asked just as Dad honked the horn.

“Trust me,” said Murray with a smile as she backed away.

I was ready to grab her, but Dad honked the horn again. Murray waved and started jogging towards the clubhouse. I watched her and decided a naked, running female was a beautiful sight. I turned and started towards the car before Dad had the sound horn a third time.

“Hey!”

I turned around at Murray’s shout. She was about twenty yards away.

“You look kind of sexy in clothes,” she yelled before turning and disappearing down the road.

We were driving home and I was sitting in the backseat of our station wagon with Magda. Roman had the coveted rear window area, which I had lost any right to for not coming because Dad had to honk the horn three times. I had pen in hand and was just staring at the blank first page of the composition book.

“What are you doing?” asked Magda.

“Murray gave me this book to write stuff down,” I told her in a low voice so no one else could overhear us. “I don’t know how or where to start.”

“At the beginning,” stated Magda. I shot a sour look at her. “Okay ... okay ... you may not remember that far back seeing is that you are fourteen. Hey, when I started my diary, I started with my name and birthday and how I got my diary.”

“You have a diary?” I asked in surprise.

“Yes, and don’t go looking for,” warned Magda. “We just left The Pines, so write about it in your journal.”

“Journal?”

“It sounds better for a boy than ‘diary’,” explained Magda. “Also, don’t embellish. Just write the truth.”

I decided to follow her advice. I started off telling who I was and some facts about myself. I then wrote about our drive to the Pines and my time there. I was actually enjoying myself. So much so that I never noticed Mom looking back at me.

I was writing about Paul’s summer job with Aunt Susan when I stopped with a thought. I made a mental note to myself and then continued to write. When Dad pulled into a gas station to fill up, I waited until everyone else had gone inside the store before approaching him.

“Dad, can I ask you something?”

“Sure. What’s on your mind?”

“Murray gave me a journal to write in,” I said. “I’ve been writing about our time at camp.”

“I was wondering what you were scribbling,” said Dad.

“Well, I got to the part about Paul working for Aunt Susan,” I explained. “It got me thinking. Do you think Uncle Sal would hire me?”

Dad stopped and looked off into the distance. I knew he wasn’t ignoring me, but that he was giving thought to my question.

“I don’t know,” said Dad after a couple minutes. “I’m not sure if you’re old enough to work in a restaurant.” I opened my mouth to protest, but Dad cut me off. “I mean, lawfully hired. You may not know, but there are state laws which govern at what age children can be hired and how long they can work.”

“Oh, I didn’t know,” I said. I then straightened up. “I’m not a child, though.”

Dad smiled and said, “You’re under eighteen. I believe the legal term is a minor. By state law, you’re not an adult yet. As for Uncle Sal, you have to ask him ... personally. If he can and does hire you, he will probably start you off as a busboy and minimum wage.”

“Oh.” I was crestfallen.

“Son, it’s a starting position for someone with no formal training and no restaurant experience,” stated Dad, putting a hand on my shoulder. “Uncle Sal would expect you to do your best and give an honest day’s work. Do you think you can do that?”

“Yes, sir.” I trembled a little bit in fear, but took in a deep breath. “Can I go with you tomorrow to see Uncle Sal?”

“When you meet with him, it’s Mister Armetti, not Uncle Sal,” suggested Dad. “You don’t want him to think he should hire you based on the fact you know him well. You want to impress him. What do you think you should wear?”

I hadn’t given it any thought. From Dad’s question, I knew shorts and a T-shirt wouldn’t cut it. I pictured how Uncle Sal dressed whenever I saw him at his restaurant. He was always impeccably dressed.

“Sunday best,” I said to Dad.

“ ... with shined shoes,” he added. “Think about what you’re going to say to Mister Armetti. He’ll want to know why he should hire you.”

The rest of the family came out of the gas station store. Mom brought Dad and me each a bottle of water. I thought it was a little strange buying groceries from a gas station. With convenience stores popping up all over the place, I wondered if grocery stores would be forced to close. It also didn’t feel right that convenience stores were open seven days a week, even Christmas and Easter.

We all piled into the car and I continued writing until we arrived home. I was surprised to find that I’d filled three quarters of the book, but had only managed to finish up on what had gone on at The Pines and the drive home. I figured I’d better buy a couple books at a time, so I’d always have one on hand.

It was late afternoon when we pulled into the driveway. We lived in the two-story Georgian house just north of Baltimore City. I had taken over the guestroom last year because I was tired of sharing the finished attic with Roman. Of course, I had to vacate the guestroom every time we had overnight guests, though.

Mom fixed us a quick meal of salad with grilled chicken strips and Dad whipped up a Thousand Island dressing for it. It was Magda’s favorite dressing.

“Be ready to leave at 6:30,” Dad told me after dinner.

“Go?” asked Magda. “Go where?”

“Stephan’s coming with me to work,” said Dad. “He wants to talk to Uncle Sal.”

“Oh, ... about what?” Mom asked me.

“I’m going to ask him for job,” I said.

“Oh, that’s ... nice,” said Mom in a tone that was carefully neutral. “Wouldn’t a position in a lawyer’s office serve you better? It’ll start giving you the experience you need and will look good on your law school application.”

“Mom!” I was really embarrassed.

“Well, look at Roman,” Mom pointed out. “He’s interning again at Chase Bank.”

“Mom, he was in high school when he applied for his internship. No lawyer is going to hire me because of my age.”

“You’ll never know unless you try,” said Dad.

“We can invite Pete Copeland and his wife over for drinks,” said Mom enthusiastically, heading for the phone. “He’ll be able to tell us about any available positions.”

I looked around hopelessly, waiting for someone to rescue me. Mister Copeland was our next door neighbor and a lawyer. He was a pretty down to earth guy, but I knew he was a high-level partner at some firm downtown. To hear my parents talk, he was as rich as Midas and his workaholic ethics broke up his first two marriages. Mister Copeland was in his mid-50s and his newest wife was not yet thirty, which really sparked the neighborhood gossip. One thing I didn’t want was for my parents to shove me at him like I had no control over my life.

Unfortunately, my wishes and embarrassment were not a consideration for Mom. It no time at all, she’d invited the Copelands over, opened the bottle of wine, and put out cheese and crackers. Before I could blink, the Copelands were sitting in our living room chatting with my parents.

“You’re lucky you caught us tonight,” said Mister Copeland. He was dressed in blue jeans and a knit shirt. “One of my clients canceled tonight’s appointment.”

“Yes, thank you for inviting us,” gushed Mrs. Copeland, leaning forward to touch Dad’s knee.

I saw Dad gulped nervously as his eyes snap down. Mrs. Copeland was wearing a loose, low-scooped blouse. When she leaned forward, the blouse fell away from her biggest features. Mrs. Copeland was a bleach blonde trophy wife, according to what I heard around the neighborhood. She had the biggest rack I’ve ever seen. I’m sure Dad was able to see right down to her belly button.

“We’re delighted you could come,” said Mom, stepping forward and handing Mrs. Copeland a glass of wine.

Mrs. Copeland was forced to sit back up to accept the glass. Dad sat back bright red cheeks.

Mister Copeland tried to hide his smile and asked, “Well, to what do we owe this honor?”

“Stephan is looking for summer job. He was to become a lawyer, so we thought that working for a law firm would put him on the right track.”

“Mom!”

Mister Copeland chuckled, took a sip, and said, “This is a nice wine. It is a good idea to intern with the law firm. Unfortunately, our selection for summer interns was conducted in April. I’m afraid you’ll find that true of all the law firms. Stephan, how about you and I take a walk on the back porch?”