Hello again. Remember me? My name is Rebecca May Walker. My friends just call me Becky. I previously mentioned that my neighbor, a college guy named Jake, and I had become acquainted with each others bodies, just not intimate. I would give him hand jobs and he fingered me until we would both cum. He would spy on me from his upstairs neighbors window while I swam in my pool naked. I would put on some private shows for him and soon we were doing more than looking from afar, we were touching each other in intimate ways.
This began in August. By September, it had happened dozens of times. We pretty much did everything with each other except doing the deed, or going 'all the way.' Not that we didn't want to. It's just that we were both freshman in college, and didn't feel pressure to have a full sexual relationship with other with him living next door, and four years of college to go. Then, something changed, through no fault of our own.
I remember it well in my mind. It has been almost nine years now. As was my routine, I got up, showered and turned on ABC. Many times in my classes, we would discuss what was happening around the United States or around the world so I made sure to keep up on current events. As I made a pot of coffee, I would watch the local news until 7 a.m. when Charlie Gibson would come on with the news on Good Morning, America. It was 6:40 a.m. Good, I could catch the weather report and traffic before heading out.
I was waiting for the coffee pot to fill when I heard a familiar voice on the television. Just not the one I was expecting. The voice on television belonged to Charlie Gibson. I thought to myself, 'that's odd.' I looked at my watch, then re-checked the time on the microwave. It wasn't seven yet. What is he doing on, so soon? It was Tuesday morning, September 11, 2001.
My eyes were glued to the television set that we kept in the kitchen. My mom and dad soon joined me. What was that he was saying? A jet, fully loaded with fuel had accidentally run into one of the twin towers in New York? My parents and I hung on his every word. Each of us sitting around the kitchen with coffee cups in hand, glued to our kitchen television, joined by millions of others doing the same thing around the world.
I got a page from my school. All classes had been cancelled until further notice. Good. Then, the station switched over to their heavy hitter, their big gun. Charlie Gibson was upstaged by Peter Jennings who normally wouldn't be seen until the dinner hour. As we watched, to our horror, another plane crashed into the second of the twin towers. Now, the commentators switched from saying it was accidental, to terrorist attacks in New York.
The world was stunned. How could any country have the balls to take on the military might of the United States? US citizens sighed with one collective sigh and all had the same thought: Find the Bastards and Nuke Them! I realized that would be going off 'half-cocked' and eventually the President came on the television and said, that yes, we would find out who was responsible and that there would be hell to pay when they did!
For days and weeks afterwards, the country was in shock. Almost 3,000 dead? It was my generations 'Pearl Harbor,' which we only read about in history books but found it difficult to relate to.
Jake and I became closer. We spent more time together and we found ourselves talking about our futures. Everything was so uncertain, so up in the air. We held hands, we made out every chance we got, and we wondered out loud whether marriage might be in our future, to each other. Like everyone around us, we stopped talking about trivial things. The latest movie. Manicures, the latest fashion in clothes that we just had to have, or maybe that fantastic vacation we were thinking about taking. The kind of trip that only the well-off could take, making others envious. So we could make sense of things, take back control of our lives and sleep better at night knowing that we were masters of our universe. Lots of puffing ourselves up, looking down on others, glad we had the money to go to college and one day be rich.
All of that stopped. Just...stopped. It didn't mean as much somehow. We were afraid, for the first time in our lives. Attacked on our soil. Could we ever feel safe again? Relationships took on a deeper, more spiritual meaning. Jake was real. He was my neighbor. He made me feel safe. Naturally, my feelings for him changed. I could begin, for the first time, to visualize spending my life with Jake, and having children with him and doing anything to make life normal again.
As if that wasn't enough to deal with, my life was about to change again. In retrospect, it's good we don't know the future. I think we would react in rather conventional ways. We would give up, waiting to die. We would try to put 60 years a living into the next few months. We would cry daily, wondering 'why me?' Or we might find inner peace, or make peace with a higher deity, and devote the remainder of our lives, in helping others and doing good deeds.
At the time, not knowing my future, each day was filled with the mundane. Doing things as I had always done them and trying to remain calm, and sane. Hey, change is tough. You can find solace in the mundane when your world is being turned upside down.
Jake and I were still turning each other on with our nightly rituals of me swimming nude and him jerking off watching me. I really liked exposing myself to him, and he really enjoyed watching, so we were a perfect match. One night, about 12:30 a.m. I gave Jake a phone call.
"Hello, Becky! How are you doing?"
