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<1st attachment, "Tom's_Diary_4-09-02.doc" begin>

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

	The following is fiction of an adult nature.  If I believed in
setting age limits for things, you'd have to be eighteen to read
this and I'd never have bothered to write it.  IMHO, if you can
read and enjoy, then you're old enough to read and enjoy.

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

	All persons here depicted are figments of my imagination and any
resemblance to persons living or dead is strictly a blunder on my
part.

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

	Official stuff:  Story codes: teen, mf, con.

	If stories like this offend you, you will offend ME if you read
further and complain. Copyright 2003, by Gina Marie Wylie.

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

	I can be reached at gmwylie98260@hothothotmail.com, at least if
you remove some of the hots.  All comments and reasoned
discussion welcome.

Below is my site on ASSTR:
http://www.asstr-mirror.org/files/Authors/Gina_Marie_Wylie/www/

My stories are also posted on StoriesOnline:
http://Storiesonline.net/

And on Electronic Wilderness Publishing:
http:// www.ewpub.org/

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++	

Tom's Diary

Tuesday, April 9, 2002
	
	I woke up at my desk, around two thirty in the morning.  The
house was dark and quiet and I went downstairs and checked the
kitchen for flaming dust bunnies, of which none were in evidence.
 Being there I got a drink of water from the fridge, sipped it
for a minute while I contemplated the quiet and the dark.

	I went back to my room, climbed into bed and pretended to sleep.
 I wanted a dream, any kind of a dream.  What I got was very
short periods of sleep; I kept waking up.  In fact, after a bit,
it was like a metronome with a tick every twenty minutes.

	About a quarter of five I gave it up.  Sure, I could plead
sickness and probably get a day off from school.  But for one of
the really rare times in my life, I wasn't about to miss the day.
 First, I had responsibilities.  I was a chauffeur.  Then I was
supposed to go meet Marcus Stewart-Jones and be oriented to what
was on the street.  

I shied away from what I was afraid was the real reason I felt so
off: that the thought of getting expelled, bogus reasons or not
was stressing me out more than all of Jenny's, Mary's or my own
problems before this had. Sam and his gun had been extremely
stressful, but it was over quickly.  The accident with the car
had been stressful too, and while it wasn't over as quickly, I'd
gotten up afterwards and carried on.

What would they say if I didn't show up?  Honestly, I was fairly
sure the principal and the vice principal wouldn't say anything.
Instead, they would nod their heads sagely and think of my
absence as vindication of their take on my actions.

I went ahead and got my shower before anyone else's alarm clock
went off, I was dressed and in the kitchen long before any one
else.

I rummaged around in the pantry, found what I was looking for. 
Two boxes of chocolate cupcake mix.  Mom liked to make things
from scratch, but cakes and cupcakes were too much of a pain. 
Lately, in fact, such things had all but vanished from our diet;
the 'use by' date on the box was April 1st, 2002.  

I made the double batch, putting in the first tray just as Mom
came in.  She sniffed the air after a few minutes and came and
gave me a hug.  "Lately I've sworn off chocolate.  It's not my
ribs every calorie seems to be sticking to these days.  Probably
unfair to the rest of you.  Thanks, Tom."

I kissed her, and in a minute we were holding and hugging each
other.  It was nice to feel the press of her breasts against my
chest, and I responded by pressing my erection between her legs.
After a few seconds she sighed and pulled away.  "At your age you
can just drop your plans and go spend the day in bed."

I shook my head.  "I have to go to school today.  I don't want
them to think I'm afraid."

She hugged me tightly, but this time it was motherly and not
sexual.  "God, Tom.  You're almost grown up!"

"Almost," I agreed.  I copped a feel through her blouse.  "I
still have hormones, though."

"You do, you definitely do.  And you're going over to Mary's
tonight?"

"Yes," I told her.  "Which reminds me, I need to get my things
together before school.  I'll pick them up when I drop off JR and
Jenny, but I'm going to have to hustle to get downtown by five."

Actually, Central and Baseline was well south of downtown and I
was going to have emulate a rocket ship to get there on time.  Of
course, I was ten thousand times more wary and cautious than I'd
been this time last week.

"And what exactly is this errand of yours?"

I met her eyes.  I'd not wanted to have to explain it, because I
wasn't entirely sure I could.  "I asked the police if I could
ride along; watch them do their job," I explained to her.  "They
said no.  I asked the fire department.  They said no.  Eleanor
gave me the name of someone who goes out at night on the street,
to help kids in trouble.  I'm going to meet with him.  I'm hoping
to be able to spend Friday evening doing that."

She was silent, looking at me steadily.  I popped the first batch
of cupcakes out, then slid in the second tray, and worked on
getting the first tray refilled.

"Just be careful, Tom," she finally told me.

"Every day, in every way that I can," I assured her.  "It's just
that... well, I want to do something for people.  I don't know
what, I don't know how.  Probably it won't work out, but I want
to have at least looked first."

She nodded.  "Well, French toast this morning."  She fetched eggs
and stuff.  Mom's French toast is really nice; and there's
absolutely nothing wrong with maple syrup, either.

JR was feeling better, and I got a kiss from her and another from
Jenny for the cupcakes for lunch.  I went to school feeling
particularly good.

Mr. Miller seemed to be surprised to see me, but didn't say
anything.  There were no notes from on high, nothing was said.  I
spent the morning in my usual classes, doing the same thing I
usually did in school.  There were times in the last few weeks,
even before I met Marsha Richardson that I seriously questioned
the utility of school.

Uncle Craig had gotten my back up by wanting to take over home
schooling.  What would have happened if the proposal had come
from Mom, with notice that Uncle Craig would add some insight
into business and finance?  I grinned to myself.  Yep, Uncle
Craig had blundered there.

Lunch was more interesting than what lunch usually was, although
I had to admit that the last few weeks had provided some
interesting lunches.  I was sitting, holding hands with
Elizabeth, when Sue Ellen came up with a girl I didn't
recognize.

Actually, I didn't recognize her face, but how many girls at
school had a bandaged nose, her arm in a sling, and fading
bruises on her face?
	"Tom," Sue Ellen said as she got to the table.  I stood up and
held out my hand to the girl.  "Dawn Driscoll.  Dawn, Tom
Ferguson."

It was her left arm that had been wracked up; so we did a proper
handshake.

"Thanks, Tom," she told me.

I shook my head.  "It wasn't the least bit difficult, didn't
require any thought at all."

What had Janey said, quoting Dawn?  That she was upset that the
cheerleaders had offered themselves, when, if anyone should do
that, it should be her.

She had let my hand go, and now stood regarding me.  I regarded
her back.

"That's really is all you want, isn't it?" Dawn's voice was
soft.

"That's all," I told her.  "Nothing else.  I'd have done it for
anyone."

"Janey told me about what you told her, what you did when the
other cheerleaders made their offer."

I shrugged.

"I don't have a very good opinion of guys, you understand?"

"I can understand," I told her.  "A lot of that going around
these days.  Not all of us are bastards, though.  Maybe not all
that many of us, but a few rotten apples sure leave a bad taste,
afterwards."

She nodded gravely.  "I did what I hear another girl did.  I left
home, moved in with a friend and her father.  My parents were
told by Children Services that if they continued to work on
getting Keith out on bail, they'd revoke their parental rights. 
Tomorrow he comes out."  She shook her head.  "They mortgaged our
house to do it.  I left last week; what was the point?"

"I'm sorry," I told her.

"You know what my friend's father told me?"

I shook my head.

"He wanted to know why someone from the family, someone from
school, someone, anyone at all, hadn't stepped on Keith like a
bug, a long time ago."

I sniffed.  "The thought occurred to me, too."

"It's like I told him, Tom.  It gets to be a habit.  You lie to
yourself, you lie to others; all to pretend it's not the problem
it is.  Cover it up, hoping not to make it worse.  Hoping not to
set him off.  And now...  I'm pretty much an orphan.  Not as much
of an orphan as Jennifer Reese, but way too close for comfort.  I
will never, ever, shy away from telling it like it is, again."

"Good," I told her.  "Keith, Sam, Roger Parker.  All are history.
 What's left for us is the future."  I gave Elizabeth a grin when
I said that, and she showed just the tip of her tongue between
her lips.  "We have to make it better."

"Yeah.  Well, I know I've said it before, others have said it. 
Thanks, Tom."

"And you're welcome."  I paused, remembering that Janey had said
she and Dawn were close.  "How's Janey?"

"Grumpy."  Dawn said.  "She gets out of the hospital Thursday or
Friday.  Janey hates sleeping on her stomach; she snores she
says."  She grinned at me, "I could tell her she snores laying on
her side, on her back..."

And that, I thought, made it quite clear where Dawn was coming
from, and going to.  I smiled at her, she smiled at me, and she
turned and walked away.

"Cat's goodbye," Sue Ellen said softly.

"Pardon?" I asked, not understanding.

"Not a long drawn out scene.  Just, bye and go.  Cats usually
don't bother with the goodbye, either."

Oh.  That was an interesting concept.  I contemplated how I said
goodbye to people.  Was I cat?  It didn't seem like I made a big
deal out of saying goodbye.  I contemplated being upside down.  I
contemplated what would have happened if I'd not been lucky.  Did
I really want to check out, without telling the people I love,
goodbye?

Then it struck me.  I had gone over to Tony's.  I've been going
to Tony's since grade school.  Even after he moved, it wasn't
that far away; I rode my bike over there a million times.  I left
for school every day; my parents went places.  Every day, we
would go do our individual things, all of us.  Make a big
production out of saying goodbye every day?  Wouldn't that
cheapen and devalue the sentiment?  It would sure get old fast. 
For me and for everyone around me.

I met Sue Ellen's eyes.  She looked like she was going to giggle.
 "I didn't expect you to go off into never-never land," she told
me.

"It's something I never thought about," I told her.  "Now I'm
wondering if it's something you could over do."

She smiled.  "You can overdo anything, Tom.  Like you and me."

We were a little ways away from everyone else, she had pitched
her voice low.

"Sue Ellen, it was good.  But..."

"Yeah," she said with emphasis.

"Friends, though, right?" I told her.

She reached out, and grabbed my arm with both hands, and twisted
hard.  "You better be!"

"Uncle!" I called, "I promise!"

I went back to Elizabeth, who had put her nose in a book almost
the instant I'd gotten up.  Tony saw her mark her place and smile
at me when I sat down.

"Gosh Tom, isn't it nice to know you come ahead of a book?"

I put my hand on Elizabeth's and squeezed gently.  "Tony, some of
us are just glad to be there at the end of the day."

He grinned at me, and then checked out Elizabeth.

I sat back down, pulled out my lunch and handed Elizabeth one of
the cupcakes.  Since I made them, I'd seen fit to include a
couple of extras with my lunch.

She took it, and then spoke to me, deadpan.  "Tom has found the
secret of women, ladies.  We should kill him; chocolate unlocks
crossed legs and libidos."

Sue Ellen reached over and grabbed my lunch bag, pulling out the
other two cupcakes I had stuffed away.  She took one, handed the
other to Shannon, helped herself to the other.  "Naw, let's just
lock him away in the kitchen and promise him some quality time,
anytime he makes more chocolate whatever."

"Chocolate, eh?" Tony said.  "I'll have to remember that."

"Mom says that chocolate doesn't stick just to your ribs," I
proffered.  "Thighs, hips, tummy..."

"Breasts?" Elizabeth said, hopefully.  It was even better than
the deadpan line a second before.

"Gosh," Sue Ellen said, glancing down.  "I hope not!"

It was like I was lying in the sun, basking in the warmth.  Only
this was the warmth from friends and lovers.  It warmed the
heart; something that sun warmed skin was just a pale imitation
of.

When bell rang at the end of lunch, I half expected to get called
to the office.  Nothing had happened, so I started towards my
next class.  Enroute, my cell phone starting buzzing to itself on
my belt.  I stopped and picked up.

"Bill Carstairs, Tom."

"Sir," I said politely.  "I thought you would get back to me
sooner."

He didn't seem to mind the criticism.  "On your behalf, I told
the school district not to undertake a personnel action against
one of the school secretaries."

"I don't understand," I told him.

"It's a bureaucratic thing; called covering your ass.  The
principal decided to drop the whole suspension thing; then issued
this letter of reprimand to the secretary who he'd given the job
of researching what you're supposed to have done.  It took some
major league pressure, but they finally coughed up the
secretary's original memo.  It's just a simple recitation of the
facts, mostly accurate.  The interpretation was all this Dr.
Stone's.

"I told the secretary to refer the matter to her union
representative.  Now, like I said, that's not going to happen. 
The bottom line is that you are no longer under threat of
suspension.  Maybe someone in the district management will have a
quiet talk with him, but..."

"I just wanted it straightened out," I told the lawyer.  "I
wasn't looking to jam any one up."  I was kind of proud of myself
for that line; stole it from a NYPD episode I'd seen once.  I
don't watch much TV, but now and then I did.

"That should be it, Tom.  Glad we could help."

I put the phone away, and then had to hustle for my first class
of the afternoon.

I'd not been that sleepy last night or in the morning, but after
the phone call I was sleepy.  It was a fight to stay awake all
afternoon.  I dropped JR, Jenny and Penny off first at our house,
picked up my things for overnight.  Then I went to Mary's house
for a bit, and Elizabeth and I sat on a couch and kissed for a
while.  I didn't want to get too romantic, and Elizabeth just
enjoyed being hugged and kissed.  I enjoyed it when I could sense
her getting excited and horny.  Knowing that you can arouse
someone; I don't know how to describe it.  It's nice; a
compliment to you as a person, as a lover.  Is there a better
compliment?  I don't think so!

After about a half hour I told her that I'd be back around seven
and set off into the afternoon traffic for South Phoenix.

I took the Squaw Peak Freeway, and the traffic going into town
wasn't as bad as the surface streets had been yesterday; of
course, I then had another four or five miles to go further
south, but I took 16th Street, which wasn't too bad.

I was expecting I'd be late; as it was, I was about twenty
minutes early.  I didn't want to sit in the van for that long, so
I decided that if nothing else, I could wait inside.

The office was set in a row of small stores.  There was a beauty
salon, a small restaurant, a dentist's office, and the one that I
wanted.  South Phoenix Youth Outreach had Venetian blinds in the
windows, blinds that were closed.  I opened the door and walked
in.

	There was an area about twenty or so feet on a side, with a desk
and some file cabinets in a corner.  There were two doors in the
back wall.  One was labeled, 'Rest Room' and the other was open,
showing an office beyond.  The office was warmer than most
offices and homes, low 80's I thought.  The air was moist, too. 
It had been a while, I realized, since I'd been anywhere that
relied on evaporative cooling.

	Dad had told me once that growing up in Phoenix everyone's
favorite place to go in the summer was the Palms Theater, which
at the time was one of the few air conditioned public places in
the city.  Everyone else relied on water trickled through pads,
with a fan sucking in outside air that was cooled as the water in
the pads evaporated.  That had been more or less the standard up
through the 70's and early 80's, when it started to change.  A
lot of people used heat pumps, which is what we had.

	How much would it cost, I wondered, to cool a huge place like
the building I was thinking about.  I made a note to myself in my
mind.  Look at utility costs, water, electric, gas, trash
collection and be sure to put that in the memo Craig wanted.  I
was pretty sure he was going to be even worse than Dad had been
about zoo animals left out of my survey, if I left anything out
of what he wanted me to do.

	There was a very tall black man, talking to two much shorter,
very plump black women.  He was also very thin, and moved with
quick, nervous energy.  He was in his thirties, I thought, but he
could have just been one of my hyperactive classmates from the
way he moved.

	He'd glanced at me as I came in.  I just stood still, knowing
that when it was my turn, I'd be seen.

	One of the black women nodded and sat down at the desk, pulling
a laptop out of a case I'd not seen before, because it had been
behind the desk.  She plugged it in and booted it up.  The other
woman talked for a few minutes more, then she walked past me,
ignoring me.

	The man, Marcus Stewart-Jones, I presumed, turned and went into
the office in the back.  He was gone for four or five minutes,
and when he came back, he had a Pepsi can in his hand.

	"Marcus Stewart-Jones," he said, offering me his hand, still wet
and cold from the soda pop can.

"Tom Ferguson."

He looked me up and down, seemed to sniff in derision.  "So white
boy, you want to ride along and look at what's happening on the
street, eh?"

"Yes, sir."

"It's Marcus," he growled.

"That's what I want to do, Marcus."

"Tell me young mister rich white kid, why would you want to do
that?  Is it a school assignment?  Going to get some extra credit
doing some volunteer work for your preppie school?  Or you just
want to see how the other half lives, so you can go back home and
tell yourself how good you've got it?"

I felt my anger start to rise, but I quelled it.  I took an extra
second, and then looked him in the eye.  "In the last couple of
weeks, I've had a chance to help a couple of people.  I liked
doing it.  But I realized I don't have a clue what the world's
really like.  I've just seen a tiny, tiny bit of it."

He cast his eyes upward.  "Oh Lord!  A do-good lookie-lou!  A
voyeur!"  He pointed at the door.  "I don't need you, rich white
boy.  Just take yourself back outside."

"Funny," I spoke, trying hard to keep my temper, "the other day I
was talking to a nice black girl who told me that the only
discrimination she's had in her life was from other blacks who
think because she gets good grades that makes her white.

"The other day, my girlfriend had a heart attack on the street. 
Her heart stopped.  I gave her mouth-to-mouth until the fire
department arrived.  I didn't hardly think it was remarkable or
that it mattered at all that some of the firemen and paramedics
were white, some black, and some brown.  Last week I was in a car
accident, the fire department and police came and rescued me.  It
took a couple of hours.  All the colors of the rainbow on that
crew, Marcus.  It wasn't worth paying attention to; they were
people doing their job.  That's what they told me.  Just doing
the job.  Both times, they did their job well.

"I wanted to ride along with the police; I can't.  I'm too young
and it's too dangerous.  I wanted to ride along with the firemen
or paramedics.  Ditto, actually, they were more emphatic about
it.

"All I want to do, Marcus, is ride along and see what it's like
on the street.

"You're right, I'm rich.  My parents are wealthy.  I can no more
help who I was born to than you could.  So what?  They did a good
job of keeping the sort of thing I want to see away from me, when
I was growing up.  Well, I wouldn't saw I'm grown up yet, but I'm
old enough to see more of what the underside of life is like."

He stared at me for a few minutes.  "First thing, you come along,
you gotta keep your mouth shut.  Can you keep your mouth shut?"

I nodded.

It took him a second to realize that was all I was going to do. 
He looked like he'd swallowed a lemon.

"Another thing, the most important thing.  You will not be
judgmental."

"If I'm not talking, I should think I would be keeping my
opinions to myself."

"Body language, that and there are times you'll just feel like
you just have to talk.  That's a lot of what I do, out there.  I
talk.  Weather, this and that.  Nothing serious.  I never ever,
nor will you, hint, make a sound, face, grimace, whatever, that
in any way disparages them or their lifestyle."

It wasn't that I hadn't thought about what it was like to live on
the streets, but I realized instantly I'd been looking at it from
my own point of view.  I'd be worried about staying warm, staying
cool, staying dry.  Where to pee.  I would worry about being
robbed, all of that.

Why were kids out on the street?  Really?  Marcus had said it. 
Lifestyle.  A lifestyle that they'd chosen.  A shitty, horrible,
icky lifestyle.  Why choose it?  What had Jenny said?  Kill him
or run away.  Why choose it?  Because the alternative was worse.
Marcus was right, though.  Jenny had had reason to run away; what
about some kid who just thought he or she was being 'smothered'
by their parents?  Whose parents didn't like their friends,
clothes, music... whatever.  Would I be judgmental about someone
like that?

"I will keep my opinions to myself," I told him.

"Well, Friday at six, here.  Do not wear those white boy preppie
clothes.  Old jeans, holes are good.  Cutoffs, raggedy ass
cutoffs, that's okay too.  A t-shirt, white boy; an old one.  Old
sneakers, ones that have been in the bottom of the closet for
years."

"Yes, sir."

"Now, get out of here, before I forget I promised Eleanor I'd do
this.  You are making a mistake, white boy.  What you will see
will range from kids hanging, to kids so deep in shit they can't
see straight.  Drunk, stoned, high."

"I understand," I told him.

"No you don't.  Now, leave."

I left.

I got in the van and drove and drove.

I'd kept my temper; it had gotten easier to do as my conversation
had gone on with Marcus.  We rubbed each other the wrong way, no
doubt about it.  I could do anything if I had to, just for the
one evening.  Also, I wasn't entirely sure that the interview had
been entirely what I thought.  He had been contemptuous at first,
and then at the end, seemed to agree to my coming along with
hardly any discussion.  Either I'd said something he liked, or
maybe it was just a test, to see how I'd react if he dumped on
me.

Would Eleanor have sent me to see someone as prejudiced as Marcus
seemed to be, without a word of caution to me?  How much had she
told Marcus about me?  I decided that it wouldn't hurt to ask
Eleanor.  But not today, today I wanted to visit my friends and
have a good time.  I had not had a good time since I'd left
Mary's house.

Traffic was worse on the way back, and even though I'd left a
little after five, it took an hour to get to Mary's.  Shannon let
me in, and I gave her a hug.

"How are things?"  I asked her.  I could hear sounds coming from
the kitchen, and could smell something yummy, even if I wasn't at
all sure what it was.

Shannon looked at me and shook her head.  "There are times I look
back over the last few weeks and just shake my head.  I can't
believe what's happened.  Good, bad, good, bad... now good again.
 I never thought I'd like to sleep with a girl, but Joanna is..."
 Shannon sighed.  "Gosh!"

I smiled.  "Yep, I've lived with JR her entire life and she still
gets me like that."  I'd told Shannon why JR hadn't been at
school on Monday, she'd asked and I'd told her.  Maybe, for a few
minutes, I was a little nervous about that, because I could only
remember once before when someone had said a particular girl was
having her period, and that had been JR telling me about Penny. 
Shannon had just nodded as if it made all the sense in the world,
and had called JR as soon as she got home from school, Monday
night.

I was chasing after things that could wait, I thought.  I made a
mental note to talk to JR about what the rules were about talking
to other people about things like a woman's period.  I was sure
women had a raft of things like that, that maybe they'd just as
soon not have public knowledge.

Mary and Elizabeth came out of the kitchen, and Mary came right
up to me and kissed me.  She was wearing the same sort of outfit
as when I'd first seen her, jeans and a blouse, tied across her
stomach.  She was just as stunning, as beautiful as that first
time, and I kissed her with as much passion as I could.

Then it was Elizabeth's turn.  In a way, she was completely
different than what I first remembered her.  She dressed much
more conservatively than Mary, but she now had a smile on her
face, at least when I was around.  And she too was radiantly
beautiful.  And when I kissed Elizabeth, she was aggressive,
sticking her tongue into my mouth, running her hands over my back
and bottom, pulling me against her.

"Dinner will be soon," Shannon reminded her sister.  We all
laughed at that and Elizabeth and I pulled apart.

"Since you came into our lives," Mary said, putting a lilting
emphasis on the word 'came', an emphasis that resulted in more
laughter.  "All sorts of things have changed.  I won't say I was
an indifferent cook before, but I'd gotten stuck in a rut of
doing the same things, because they were relatively easy, and why
not?

"Since I met you, and particularly Ellen, my horizons have been
broadened in all sorts of ways.  So, I got out my cookbook, and
Elizabeth and I have been experimenting.  We hope you and
Shannon, as guinea pigs, will find the experiment worth while."

"Oh, ick!" Shannon said, "Test animals!"

"What are you going to test on us?" I asked, curious.

"I made gazpacho soup," Elizabeth said proudly.  "If you can call
something soup that doesn't get heated, and is served cold from
the refrigerator."

"And I made pork chops, sauted in butter, mushrooms and garlic. 
I don't know about anything else, but dinner smells heavenly."

I thought it did too, and told them.

"You forgot flowers," Shannon announced.

Dj vu all over again, as Yogi Berra would say.  Last night it had
been JR's period pointing out to me that I'd gotten too casual
about a very important thing.  Today, I hadn't brought flowers.

I looked at the clock, it was six thirty.  "Since I didn't
promise to be here until seven, I'm going to rewind the clock. 
Back in a second."

I dashed out to the store and indeed got a nice basket of
flowers, while adding to my mental list in huge letters, PAY
ATTENTION TO LITTLE THINGS... they're not, not really.

When I came back, the greetings were recapitulated, which was
it's own reward.  That reward was followed by a nice dinner;
everything that the first dinner that I'd had with the three of
them hadn't been.  The conversation was light-hearted, puns and
short, funny anecdotes.

Elizabeth was a careful observer of people.  All her life people
had thought she was a loner, quiet and shy, wrapped up in her own
pursuits.  It seemed to me that Elizabeth was all of that, but
more.  Her main interest in life was mathematics; her next big
interest was why people did things.  I'd thought about that a
time or two myself, although usually I'd scratch my head, shrug
and mutter something about different strokes for different
folks.

But, in the last few weeks I'd extended my baseline of people I'd
met by a considerable amount.  And my relationships with the
people I'd met had frequently been accompanied by very heart felt
conversations about a lot of important things in their lives and
mine.

Still, because the conversation was light, there were quite a few
places we didn't go.  Then dinner was over and we all helped
clean up.  I realized from overheard comments that in the past
clean up after dinner had been something that Shannon and
Elizabeth had been doing, one at a time, for a week at a time. 
They had seen how Mom had organized things at our house and had
realized something Mom had made a point of for as long as I could
remember:  chores suck.  However, if you have to do something
that sucks, it sure helps to know that there is someone standing
next to you, doing the same chore, or one very much like it.

Maybe Mom or Dad might not be helping with the dishes, but in a
day or two, they would be.  Once Dad had commented that the only
things that Mom couldn't make a spreadsheet do was the chores
themselves, and walk the dog.  The next day, the computer started
barking, whenever you looked at the to-do list.  Mom is cool, no
doubt about it.

But the truth was important: no one was exempt, and if someone
was doing a chore, most likely everyone else was doing a chore
too.  Neither Mary or her husband had done dishes for years;
Shannon and Elizabeth had also had more than their fair share of
other cleanup chores to do too.  Bill Leary had mowed the grass,
taken on the garbage and a few other things; but that had been
it.  Mary had done a little more, but Shannon and Elizabeth had
born the brunt of the work.

They agreed with Mom: chores suck, but if someone else is with
you, helping, it goes down a lot easier.  And if no one is
exempt, well, that's another thing you can't complain about it. 
It was another way to say what I'd been thinking earlier; little
things are important.

After dinner and dishes, Elizabeth looked me right in the eye. 
"I know what I'd most like to do."

"I'd like to do that myself," I said, a trifle smug.

Elizabeth was getting much better at zingers, I learned.  "You
like math too?"

"Ah, no."

"Well, I'm going to study for a while.  Shannon's going to
practice."

"I'm going to read a book on accounting," Mary interjected.

I nodded, not minding at all.  "I haven't left the house without
a book to read or homework to do since I was too little to
remember anything."

I did have a little homework to do, and I did it.  Then I read
ahead in my American history book.

Around nine thirty Elizabeth put down the book she was working
out of, which was, I was sure, a college calculus text book,
smiled, and vanished into the bathroom.

I let my eyes rest on Mary.  I hoped I would never get to the
point in my life that Bill Leary had reached, where he couldn't
see the wonderful, beautiful people around me.  She met my eyes,
her eyes gray and laughing, as I loved to see them.

"I'd asked Ellen to come tonight too, but she's indisposed."

I nodded; JR had explained it, sort of.  "Saturday night, she
tells me, she won't be indisposed."  Mary's smile was enough to
light up any room.  "So my thought was that tonight you and I
would be together, and you and Elizabeth could have the
weekend."

That sounded like a plan, and I nodded.  "Except, Elizabeth says
that like as not, she'll be indisposed this weekend.  So...  I'm
going to sleep by myself tonight, and have a surfeit this
weekend."

She came close and we kissed, and after a little of that, I
cupped both her breasts with my hands.  She sighed, and kissed
harder.  When we pulled apart both of us were breathing hard, I
was as hard a rock and Mary's eyes were glowing.

Once again, I was in a quandary.  In every rational world, I'd
now take Mary by the hand and we'd start making serious love in
her bed.  Instead, in a few moments Elizabeth would be back and
I'd be going to her bed and making mad, passionate love to her. 
Then I realized that in most people's definition of a rational
world, I wouldn't be lusting after a woman almost the same age as
my mother.  I would be content with one.

Elizabeth was a young woman any rational person could be content
with.  Seeing the future?  What of it?  She was a beautiful
person, with a wonderful mind.  What could anyone reasonably want
beyond that?

Mary leaned close and kissed me on the forehead.  "I'm detecting
signs of thinking in there."

"Yeah," I replied, wishing I could be more sure of myself.

"Tom, Elizabeth and I talked.  Oh, how we've talked!  You've
taught us both something important here in the last few weeks. 
There's more than one reason to have sex.  Oh, the Catholic
Church I was raised in says not, but I have a lot of other
problems with church doctrine besides that.  Sex is for making
babies.  Sex is for having a good time, letting your hormones
romp.  And if the two people making love want that joy, if they
aren't out to hurt each other or anyone else, then I'm all for
it!  Sex is for healing, Tom.  I expect it's also a good aerobic
workout.

"All sorts of things.  Too many people have spent too much time
trying to tell other people what it means to them, and not
interested in how anyone else sees it.  You're comfortable with
sex, Tom.  And now, so am I.  Once an hour, once a day, once a
week; I love it all.  I am looking forward to the weekend, Tom. 
There was a time that I was content to reach the end of the day
and happy to go to bed by myself.  This is better, trust me."

"You'd think," I said a little nervous, "that with something I
started to do, then went and did to a fare thee well, that I
would be more comfortable with it."

"You love us, Tom.  You want to keep us all happy, all of the
time.  You can't, Tom.  You have a life; we have our lives.  We
couldn't, shouldn't, live our lives together twenty-four seven."

I nodded at that.

Then Elizabeth was there, wearing nothing but a smile, and
tugging on my hand.  I blew a kiss at Mary, and went where I was
more than happy to go, even if I wasn't sure how right it was.

Elizabeth undid my shirt, while I undid my jeans and kicked them
all away.  She pushed me down on her bed, and straddled me, her
knees up around my head.  I smiled, blew on her thin pussy hair,
and kissed her pussy lips, running my tongue through them,
finding her clit at the end of the stroke.

Elizabeth sighed, "Like that!  Like that, Tom!"

So, I did some more like that.  And a lot more.  I blew lightly
on her, I used my tongue, I stroked with my fingers.  I even used
my nose to trace little lines on her inner thighs.  Then I slid a
finger inside her, moving it around in her vagina.  She was
moist, and grew more so as I rubbed inside her.

"Use two fingers," she breathed, and I did.  It was all I could
do, though, not to laugh.  Where had Elizabeth heard those words?
 In a dream?  Or from Jenny?

"You're awfully small and tight," I murmured, "I don't want to
hurt you."

That reminded me of something I had to do, and I shifted, sliding
her a little down my chest.  "Elizabeth, about birth control?"

She looked at me, and shook her head.  "Tom, it's something I
took care of before I ever went to bed with you.  It's one thing
to think you know what's going to happen, but I'm pretty sure you
can change some of it by doing things different.  There will be
plenty of time for kids, I promise.  And I will have yours."

"JR took me by surprise," I admitted.

"What do you mean?" she asked.

I was used to Elizabeth knowing everything.

"She's having her first ever period this week," I told her.

I could see Elizabeth's eyes furrow.  She didn't understand; I
thought that remarkable, but I added, "JR saw what I was doing,
and while she didn't cast her nets as far and wide, she did sow
some wild oats.  And since she hadn't had a period yet, it was
unprotected sex.  All of it."  I paused, then shrugged, "except
with her girlfriends."

"Oh!" Elizabeth sighed, and moved to lie down next to me.  "I can
see why that's caused a stir.  I wasn't sure what it was."

"I thought you knew everything?" I was half-joking, not sure
exactly what I meant.

"Tom, be real!  I'm fourteen years old!  There hasn't been time
for me to see all of my own life, not to mention the lives of
everyone else.  Little bits and pieces; some things I suspect are
important, some that probably aren't.  Sometimes I can see why
they are important, but other times it's like coming in during
the middle of a movie, watching for a few minutes, then getting
up and leaving.  Even if you'd heard someone describe the movie
generally, you really haven't seen enough of it to be sure about
very much.

"Combine that with not being sure of anything... well, trust me,
Tom, I don't know everything and I don't want to.  It's as much a
curse as a blessing, that's for sure.  You just don't know; I
don't know."

I reached out, and laid my hand on one of her small breasts.  "We
didn't have dessert tonight, so, I'll have to nibble a little
something, if you don't mind.  Because I'm really, really
hungry."

I leaned close and licked her nipple, then circled round it,
leaving saliva tracks all over her breast.  Then I did it to her
other breast.  I set down to some serious kissing on her breasts,
while my hand moved down over her stomach.

Every woman I'd made love to, everyone, it seemed to me, I'd
gotten off just touching them.  Feeling the warmth of their skin,
the muscles just underneath, the fine downy hair of stomachs and
chests.  Sensing a woman becoming aroused was just plain a good
thing.  I loved it.

When Elizabeth wrapped her hand around my penis, it grew in her
hand.  I hoped it was as sexy for her as it felt for me, because
it felt really, really good.  I wasn't surprised that I'd gone
limp; thinking about the close call with JR did that very
effectively.  But I was glad I hadn't gotten hard again until
Elizabeth had her hand on me.

"Tom," Elizabeth spoke, her voice tight.

"Elizabeth, my love, I hope this is as nice for you as it is for
me."

She laughed, although she sounded a little hoarse.  "Tom, if it
was much better, I'd be a jelly spot on the bed.  Tom, make love
to me!  Please!  Now!"

Since I had been making love to her, and since she was lightly
tugging on my erection I decided that she wanted me in her.  And
I was right.

I rolled on top; she spread her legs, helping me push inside her.
 She'd been moist before, now she was really wet.  She heaved
with her hips, clawing at my ass as she lifted against me.  She
shuddered, and came.

"Again!" she cried, "Don't stop!  Fast!"

I started stroking into her, and this time Elizabeth was the
fire.  She seemed beyond horny, beyond reason; just wanting to be
made love to.  She came another time a minute later, as I was
pushing deep into her and then again a short time later.  Each
orgasm seemed to make her uninhibited, more eager.

I'd not made love to Elizabeth very much, and this time was as
different from the times before as it could be.  But there was no
doubt in my mind what Elizabeth wanted, and I wanted it to.  I
moved faster and faster, my hips slapping against her.  She was
very wet, and there were loud sucking and squishing sounds as I
moved in and out.  It would have been gross if I'd been thinking
about it; it would have made me laugh at other times.  Now I was
as wrapped up in making Elizabeth come, as she was it having me
in her.

It was too intense for either of us to last very long.  She
clamped down hard, closing her legs, squeezing me with her
vagina.  I came, an explosion that rocked me, leaving my ears
ringing.

I didn't fall asleep, but it was close.  I felt Elizabeth push,
and I pulled away and lay down next to her.  She wrapped her arm
around me, put her head on my chest and started nibbling on my
cheek.

"Thanks, Tom," she whispered.

"Oh, Elizabeth," I laughed, "thank you!" I told her with all the
emphasis I could muster.

She giggled and I put my arm around her shoulder and hugged. 
"That was nice,"

"That was me hornier than I can ever remember being before," she
told me.  "I don't know what came over me.  I felt this ache
inside of me, and I knew you could fix it.  And I didn't care
what you did to fix it."  She grinned at me.  "In fact, I think
you just gave me a taste of something I didn't understand
before."

"What?" I asked her.

"Unrequited hormones.  Common wisdom says you guys have this all
the time.  In which case I understand why guys can lose it."

I figured she was talking about the Sam-Roger-Keith axis.  "Well,
I don't understand losing it completely.  Not with someone I
wasn't sure wanted to be with me."

She kissed me again.  "I know; I guess I'm being unfair, because
I know you're like that."

Elizabeth smiled at me.  "When we've made love before, it's been
so beautiful.  It was something I'd imagined in my head,
everything great and wonderful and beautiful and good."  She
paused and giggled.  "I'm running on.  It wasn't all cerebral,
but I spent a lot of time in my own head.  This time, I just
wanted you, needed you."

"I won't get too far away, not any more.  You know what I'm doing
tomorrow?"

"Looking for a place for all of us to live.  Oh, Tom, it's going
to be so beautiful, it..."  She suddenly stopped talking,
clapping her hand over her mouth.  "I shouldn't talk about it. 
It will be wonderful."

"I hope so," I told her.  "We should get some sleep, tomorrow
will be here before we know it."

"An hour and ten minutes, according to the alarm clock,"
Elizabeth agreed.

I chuckled.  "What, it was so boring, you're watching the
clock?"

She gave me a mock punch on my arm.  "No, silly.  If we get some
sleep, we can wake up early and do this again."

Now that sounded like a plan to me!

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