On Monday morning I overslept. Having had my bedtime delayed by Petri’s telephone call and having it interrupted by Ollie’s telephone call and being awakened again by Laura’s hand around my cock in the early morning gave me three good reasons to turn off the alarm and go back to sleep.
Petri’s call came early and was welcome. She was alone and wanted someone to talk to. I was alone too. Unbeknownst to her, Petri supplied some helpful information. Huley was out with Jake Trainer and had taken action to deceive her parents. Her plan was to sneak into the house long after her parents came home.
Ollie’s call was reactionary. Having concluded that Huley must be with me, his attack upon me was punctuated with abrupt bluster. When Huley arrived home Ollie dropped the phone to confront her for coming home so late. Rosita apologized for her husband’s mistake. I took advantage of the situation and learned the name of Ollie’s lawyer which I wanted in case I had to ask Mr. Waite to intercede in our dispute.
Laura’s interruption of my sleep was a welcome interlude. She stripped me of my shorts and gave me step by step instructions as to what she wanted me to do to scratch the itch she claimed to have had for days.
When I left for school Laura was sleeping and Charles was working on the picket fence. He was putting it together in sections and said someone from Jimmy’s crew would help him fit them together.
At lunch time I checked the cafeteria, hoping to return the book to Huley but she was not there. I wondered if she had slept in after the late night or if it was something more serious, like Ollie striking her again. I hoped that she had merely decided to get some rest.
I tried to get Katherine’s attention in the library but she would not look at me until I was standing in front of the table where she was sitting.
“You can talk to me, I handed the paper in this morning,” I said. The paper was not due until the end of the week but the subject was beginning to bore me. Having found out some of Mrs. Davenport’s quirks, I decided to play it safe and not stray from the formula Katherine had suggested.
She furrowed her brow, “It would not be a good idea. Sheila asked me to read the papers again. She has spies everywhere.”
I moved away and took a seat across the room. Twice, when I looked in her direction I caught her watching me. She smiled and bowed her head, embarrassed. The second time it happened I smiled back. When I looked again she was not there.
I got home early because of our dinner date with the Waites. I knew something was wrong immediately. The tears in her eyes I saw when she came into my arms were uncharacteristic. She was shaking.
I didn’t have to ask. I knew it had to be something to do with Ollie. I held her. Neither of us spoke.
We must have stood in the middle of the kitchen for five minutes, Laura shaking and me trying to console her.
She stepped back, her face serene but awash with stains and strain. Her eye fastened to mine as she came back to me. She balked when I tried to steer her toward the bedroom, her body resuming the shaking that I had witnessed a few minutes before.
She took me by the hand and led me to the second bedroom. It took her seconds to shuck her clothes and when I did not follow her lead she tucked the tip of her tongue between her lips and made short work of stripping me, letting my clothes drop to the floor.
“Hold me,” she said. With only the sheet over us it made the heat our bodies generated noticeable.
She stopped me when I stroked her back. “Just hold me. I want to be reminded by the chill that you can not shield me from my past.”
“But I can,” I protested, moving my hands down her back. Her body went rigid, telling me to stop. The palm of my hand was at the small of her back.
She signaled that she wanted to take her favorite position, me on my back and her head resting on my chest. I could feel the ends of her hair tickle my thumb.
“Don’t do that,” she cautioned lazily when I pulled a strand of her hair gently. “Let me feel the chill.”
“Because the chill represents your past and you want to be reminded of it?”
“That’s right. You’re helpless to erase it. Don’t move your hand. Don’t do anything to make me more comfortable.”
This made no sense. How long did she need to feel the chill? How long did I need to feel it? I was hungry.
“Want to kiss me?”
“No, kissing you would be enjoyable and that would make me comfortable.”
“Want me to move my hand from you back?”
“No, leave it there but don’t move it.”
“What does my hand being there represent?”
She was silent. I felt her breath move the hair on my chest. I wondered if she heard my question. Was she asleep? “It tells me you would like to wipe the slate clean but you can’t. If you could you would rub my back and make the goose bumps disappear. You would rub the cheeks of my ass and make me forget. But you can’t do that. Keep your hand there to remind me that you care.”
“That’s deep,” I said as soberly as I could, afraid that a snicker would generate heat and thereby make her more comfortable.
“It’s not deep. It’s just the way I feel right now. By indulging me you are showing that you care.”
“Getting goose bumps for you shows that I care? What about kissing? Wouldn’t a kiss or two show you that I care for you?”
“It’s not the same at all. Kissing would express our feelings for one another but in so doing it would make me more comfortable. It would take the goose bumps away. I need the goose bumps right now. Indulge me.”
The areas where our bodies touched were warm. I could feel heat being transferred from her face and tits on my chest and where my hand rested in the small of her back but my legs were beginning to get cold. The single sheet did nothing to stave off the cool air which I realized, was due to the heat having been turned off. Was this Laura’s doing? When had the telephone call arrived? I was cold and hungry.
“Can I move my legs?”
“My legs are cold too but we mustn’t move them.”
“Can I put my left hand on you butt? I would like to squeeze it.”
“That sounds delicious but you mustn’t”
“Imagine how good it would feel. Is your butt getting cold?”
“Don’t talk that way. Don’t make me think about how good it would feel. It’s none of your business if my butt is cold.”
At least she was not mad at me for bringing about Ollie’s most recent phone call. She had not met me at the back door with fists flying. Was this her way of punishing me? Why was she punishing herself?
“Why aren’t you mad at me?”
