Wendy

If you read parts one and two you will recall this adventure took place before the seven taboo words had been defined. Coffee was perked and a pack of cigarettes was sold for less the today’s sales tax. Some things have not changed.

“Look, I’ve got a paper to write,” I said in a rather harsh tone. It was true, I was behind on work in three out of four classes and did not have time to chat.

The telephone was off limits to me on week nights. It had always been that way while Marcie lived there; the practice continued when she moved out and my friends knew that I did not take calls. However, there were exceptions.

What if there is an emergency? It could be one of any number of business associates, a supplier with news of a delivery or one of my funeral home contacts.

Mothers of the bride are my specialty. They are all the same, hell bent on planning the wedding. Since one of the first things they want to take care of is the floral arrangements, they sometimes call us even before the engagement hits the paper.

‘Who would be calling me a 7 p.m. on a Monday night, just as I was sitting down to study?’ I wondered. The phone call could bring new business. Or.....It could be Wendy. I picked up the phone on the forth ring.

“You didn’t finish the story!” She had an annoying habit of demanding a response without the courtesy of ‘a how do you do.’ If she ever gets in front of a judge I thought; the scene made my rib cage tickle.

“Sure I did,” I answered, thinking I knew which story she was talking about.

“Well, did you?”

“Did I what?”

“Did you do step five?” Her voice was tentative but I knew it was only for effect. There was nothing tentative about Wendy. “With Ellen, I mean.”

That is when I told her about the paper, it was not due until Friday but I was smothered with other work and wanted to convey it to her.

“What’s the subject? I went to college you know, perhaps I can help.” Her tone was sympathetic, consoling.

“Business Law,” I answered sarcastically. I had taken a course in business law the previous year and had enjoyed it. It was that introduction to the law that made me see the necessity for a special contract with the plant suppliers. I did not volunteer the actual name of the course or the subject of the paper.

Not hearing a response, I got a little anxious. The silence was uncharacteristic. Had I hurt her feelings? Unlikely, I thought, but still....

“Yes, we did step five. It was the greatest 30 seconds of my life.” I said, pausing, expecting a laugh. Wendy mumbled something about me needing to do my paper and said goodbye.

“Hey Fab, hold up.” It was Benney Farmer. We had become seat mates in a history class the year before. The instructor insisted on seating us alphabetically so there we were in the F section, Benney was behind me. I had not seen him since the class. “What’s up?” I asked, a little annoyed at being stopped, my next class was on the far side of the campus and I was invariably late getting there.

“Are you going to the game?”

“Football?” I laughed, “Is that why you stopped me?”

“Remember Sandy Merrid?” he asked, a look of excitement on his face.

I blinked. Of course I remembered her. She sat across the aisle from me in the class we took together. I nodded.

He must have seen that I was in a hurry so he got right to the point. He and his girlfriend were going to the game on Friday night and needed a date for her friend, Sandy. He already had the tickets.

“Why me?” I grinned, looking for the catch. “Does Sandy know about this?”

“Sure she does,” he said with a confident grin. “She suggested you.”

I agreed to the date and I turned to leave. Benney placed a hand on my shoulder.

“Bring a blanket Fab. It will be cold out there. Think about it, you and Sandy cuddling under a one!”

Later that day I sotted Sandy. I wondered if it was a coincidence as I we had not seen one another since the last school year. I had forgotten how cute she was; she was a small girl with a narrow face, making it seem long for her body. Her hair was jet black with a silky texture. She spied me and came my way.

Her dark eyes fairly twinkled as she peered up at me and said, “I hear that we’re going to the game with Benney and Joyce.” Her knit sweater had highlighted my day; it clung to her upper torso, accentuating her small breasts.

I did not mention the Friday night date to Wendy when she called. Just because she had invited me over the past two Fridays did not mean she would expect it to be a ritual, would she?

“You weren’t sure about the color of the robe?” Her tone was accusatory as if she was a queen scolding one of her subjects.

“I was making the whole thing up, remember?”

She let her breath explode and exasperated she said, “Cotton! What am I going to do with you, how am I going to get it right. Can’t you see this is important to me?”

“Cranberry,” I said. “The robe was darker than the night gown but not dark pink or red; I think you would call it cranberry.” Of course I remembered the robe, how it looked, how it felt to the touch and how it always seemed to come open as we danced. “The material was satin,” I added, recalling how it felt.

“Makes sense,” she said. It was evident she believed me. “I guess you weren’t making it up.”

The next day I stopped by the library to check a reference. On the way up the front steps I saw that Sandy was coming down on the far side. She did not see me.

“Sandy,” I yelled to her. As she turned her hair swished across her face before reversing its course and gently coming to rest against her thin neck.

She ran toward me and stood one step above, very near. We stood eye to eye.

“Is this your free period?” she asked, handing me her books to hold. She raised both arms to the back of her head and with a swift move, rearranged her hair to her liking. She then gave her head another shake and smiled at me.

Sandy placed one hand on my chest, inside the jacket I was wearing. I felt her small hand press against my shirt. She had a mischievous look on her face as if she would give me a shove. I held my ground or step, as it were.

“Should I bring a blanket Fab, or will you?”

This would be my first date with a girl my age in a long time. The last one had turned out to be a disaster. I had invited Patsy King to the junior prom. We were both high school juniors and I considered her to be one of the most attractive girls I knew.

It was common knowledge that she had broken up with an older kid named Mike. Patsy accepted and we went to the dance with another couple. After the dance the other guy drove us to a quiet lane. She did not complain but I did, silently.

Mike, the former boy friend, had heard about our upcoming date. At first he ordered me not to go to the prom with Patsy. It was evident to me that she was the one who had done the breaking up. Somehow, Mike was of the opinion that he still had a claim on her but I wanted to test my dancing skills and I wanted to do it with Patsy.

“She’ll know that you had something to do with it if I call off the date,” I reasoned. “Even if I don’t tell her why, she’ll know you are the cause.” I could see the wheels turning.

After some negotiating which was mainly him talking and me listening, him showing me his muscles me watching but we finally came to terms. I was to take Patsy to the dance then home, no detours. It was also agreed that Patsy was not to know of our arrangement.

Finding myself in the back seat of a car with Patsy was not my plan. I had not foreseen the need to tell the driver of my pack with Mike. From my vantage point in the back seat I could hear what was going on up front. It would have been futile to divulge my agreement with Mike. Besides, she was sitting next to me, charming, delectable and willing.

We mimicked what was taking place in the front seat for two hours. My fear of what Mike would do to me was overcome by Patsy’s charms. We locked our tongues together and moved to a prone position on the car seat. I tried to keep a small distance between our bodies to keep her dress and my suit from wrinkling; Patsy did not share my concern. She pressed her body to mine and I knew that she knew of my stiffened cock and exactly where it was pressing against her. I moved my hand from behind her shoulder and slid it along her left side.

When my hand came to rest on her breast I felt a tooth make contact with my upper lip. I squeezed.

The tooth increased its pressure. I shifted my hand to the other breast.

Two teeth had my upper lip in a hold.

I unfastened two buttons and inserted my hand.

The hold on my lip became viselike.

I eased my hand out and backed off.

She loosened her grip on my lip. I tasted blood.

“Undo your bra, I’ll never find the catch!” I whispered. She shoved me to the side and within seconds was back on the seat, reaching for me.

I sucked on her tits for the next hour, contented. It was better than being bitten by this vampire. Patsy moaned, let out little gasps and held my head in place pressing it to her at times, easing up at others.

Her dress had ridden up. I moved my hand up her inner thigh. Her legs opened as much as was possible in the confines of the narrow seat, receptive to my hand. Her pants were soaked with moisture. I eased my hand past them and made contact with her lips, penetrating.....

A commotion came from the front seat, loud whispers and sound of a hand striking bare skin. Voices were raised followed by the rustle of two teenage bodies stiring.

Startled as if awakening from a dream we froze. We heard the car start and begin to move.

We sat up and tried to rearrange our clothes.

Patsy and I talked about events at school. We spoke mater of factly about a class we were both in. It was as if we had been to a dance together and now we were on the way home.

What happened in the back seat was not the disaster. That came the next day when Mark paid me a visit. He seemed to know everything that had taken place. Not knowing how much he really knew I assured him not much had happened which proved to be a tactical error.

To him ‘not much’ was too much. It was only Marcie’s skill in the use of a broom stick that saved me from a severe beating. She deftly prodded his backside then pulled Mark off me by his ear. Before he left he gave me a last warning. “Never go near my girl again!” I complied. Although, I did consider asking if he wanted to smell my finger.

I did not attend my senior prom. But I went to a dance. Marcie let me borrow her car, the big Buick convertible with four air holes along both sides of the hood.

Dressed in my new suit I drove the car to the school parking lot. Some of the couples going to the dance may have seen that I did not have a date but I did not care. I walked two blocks to where Mrs. P. picked me up in her station wagon.

We danced around her upstairs bedroom before, during and after sex. Mrs. P kept the music low and the lights out. When we heard her daughter come home from the dance I snuck out the back door and walked back to the high school to pick up the car.

“Did you have fun Honey?” Marcie asked as I came through the door.

“Every thing is fine,” I answered. I was telling her what she really wanted to know, that her car was safely home.

“That lawyer friend of yours was here.” Priscilla told me when I got to the shop on Wenesday afternoon.

“Really, did she say what she wanted?”

“She wanted to use the bathroom in the house.” Pris gave me a coy look.

I was relieved that Wendy did not call. My disposition was such that I would have said things to be regretted later. It was beyond my comprehension as to why she would stop by my home and ask to use the bathroom when I was not there. It was insanity I thought, she only lived six blocks away. I was infuriated with her boldness and her foolish quest for details and with her inquisitive nature.

Thursday passed without incident. I did not see Benney or Sandy at school and Wendy did not call. My rage at her silly stunt was cooling. I looked forward to the football game.

Benney and I made final arrangements. We settled on times and which order for me to pick every one up. I was to pick up Sandy, Benney and then Joyce. He gave me his telephone number in case I got lost or was running late. As we parted Benney shook my hand like an old buddy. It crossed my mind that we hardly knew one another. I suspected that he did not have a car.

Later, when I bumped in to Sandy she was in high spirits. Her mood was infectious as she touched my arm and said, “I just love football, don’t you, Fab?”

I smiled, withholding my feelings for the game. I considered that ‘Fab’ was not my nickname it had been adopted by Benney. Until now he was the only one who called me that. It was a name I found repulsive. She squeezed my arm as we parted.

“Cotton?” It was the voice I was beginning to adore. Or Abhor?

I grunted and looked at my watch. It was seven fifteen. I was already five minutes late according to the way we planned it. Had I left on time my phone would have gone unanswered.

“Do you still have that stack of records?, the ones you and Ellen danced to?” Wendy continued as if she knew I was captivated by her every word.

“Didn’t you find them when you were here the other day?”

“Oh that, you sound angry,” she said. From the tone of her voice, I had an idea that she was pouting.

“I can not understand why you needed to use my bathroom, couldn’t you hold it until you got home?”

“I didn’t,” there was a short pause, “use your bathroom that is, for heavens sake, Cotton, I had to see the layout, I had to see your sofa. Don’t you see?” The last sentence was drawn out, almost pleading.

“I’m not much of a housekeeper, I hope you didn’t see my unmade bed?”

“Will, don’t you?” she said, ignoring my question.

I checked my watch again. Mentally, I formed an excuse to the police, ‘officer, the reason I was speeding is that I am already late to pick up the hottest date you can imagine. We are going to a football game don’t you see. I have two blankets in the back seat.’

He would give me a ticket.

“Don’t I what?”

“The records silly. Bring with you about 7:30?”

“It may be 7:45. I’ll need to make a ‘phone call but I believe I know where the records are. They are 45’s, do you have a machine?” I asked, giving no thought to what I was saying.

Benney was beside himself. He cursed me. I could hear his mother in the background; telling him to control his language. “You’ll have to call Sandy,” he aserted. He called Joyce for the number and called me back with it. Benney was still steaming mad.

Sandy was hurt but said she understood the circumstance. I told her our company lawyer had called an emergency meeting. “It’s part of my job,” I explained.

The shade of the robe was a lighter one that I had described as cranberry. The sheen of it looked more like silk than satin.

‘Little things mean a lot’ was the first song. The material of her robe could have passed as satin and without light, the shade did not matter. The tie came undone as it I slipped my arm under the robe and around her waist. We danced cheek to cheek in our stocking feet. ‘Violets,’ I thought, sniffing her hair. Her lips were receptive.

‘Say I look nice when I’m not’ ‘Little things mean a lot’

We dispensed with the robe, throwing it on my pants and shirt which had been scattered between the record player and where we danced. The red string at her neck was drawn tight. The red hearts were wrong, they were clustered near the drawstring, Ellen’s hearts had been in a straight line, across her chest.

I said nothing about the discrepency, knowing it would have ruined the mood. Wendy’s eyes were closed and took no notice as I untied the draw strings and removed them. I slipped one hand inside the night gown. I cupped first one breast, then the other. Wendy reacted with a soft mmmm but I was uncomfortable with the position.

When the arm moved to drop a new record I lifted the gown. Wendy raised her arms to assist me. Before I could bring her close she lifted my T shirt. I raised my arms to accommodate her. My shorts joined the pile of discarded clothes next. We resumed dancing, naked except for our socks.

Wendy’s body was not quite a large as it appeared in the clothes she had a habit of wearing too tight. Her stomach was relatively flat. I explored her butt cheeks. They were ample and made for groping. We had slowed our movement to a gentle sway.

I was uncomfortable. My cock was wedged between us like a brittle bar of candy.

The damned loveseat was not going to work. Unlike the couch at my house, the armrest rose disproportionately to the size of the rest of the piece. I pondered the problem as I guided Wendy toward the loveseat. I was stumped.

But Wendy and considered the situation. As we collapsed on the small piece of furniture I discovered a large pillow had been placed next to the armrest; this raised her butt high enough to clear the obstacle. I marvelled at her ingenuity. I wondered if she had tried the setup, a dry run so to speak.

Knowing Wendy’s obsession with detail, I searched my memory. The steps I had decided was the key to success.

I planted a series of kisses on her neck, careful to return to her lips as I caressed her tits. Her arms were latched on to my back. I had to break her hold before moving down to suck her nipples. They were taut in seconds and Wendy moaned her approval. My hands moved over her stomach like a baker kneading dough.

Backing up, I was rewarded with relief. My cock had reached the end of the loveseat and was waving in the air. Kneeling, I planted a wet kiss on her inner thighs and made and I made my way toward the prize.

When I placed a finger at her entrance and parting the lips Wendy’s hips trashed and a leg flew high into the air, crashing into my kidney on the way back down.

She was obvious to the pain she had rendered and after a few seconds so was I.

That smell again of violets. She had bathed in it. Wendy’s legs were thick, strong and sweaty, hendering my hearing. As I lapped the violets I thought I heard an incoherent stream of praise. There...more...do it more...don’t stop..oh...oh.. Stimulated by the verbal appause, I asaulted her pussy with my tongue; first one finger, then two.

Her entire butt came off the pillow, eclipsed only by a shriek that I was certain would bring the police. Her body rolled like a desert tumbleweed. I withdrew my fingers. Her hands which had been holding my head in place, relaxed. I used this lull in the action to retrieve the rubber. On my knees and still between Wendy’s legs at the end of the love seat, I dressed my cock.

“Step five,” Wendy commanded. She had recovered and was tugging at my head. I crawled up to be even with her face. She took my head in her hands and guided me to her lips. It was a moment of rapture, for both of us.

“What did Ellen say?” Wendy murmured. She was barely audible because of her lack of breath. I tried to recall what had been said, I did know it was not ‘step five’.

“Are you prepared?” I answered truthfully. She wanted to know if I had protection.

Wendy’s eyes opened. Astonishment filled her face.

“What was your answer?”

“I said that I didn’t.” I answered truthfully.

The coffee table broke my fall. That delicate, polished and expensive piece of furniture that I had admired last week was not as delicate as I had thought.

The power generated by her left arm and left leg rivalled that of the defensive tackle who was tossing our quarterback aside at that same moment.

Wendy’s rage was still evident when I regained consciousness. My head had taken a blow from the corner of the table and my back felt as if a hatchet had been buried there.

“You despicable Bastard! Your ineptitude is sooo immature.” She screamed at me.