Hey Jude

Scotty stared at the obituary and felt his heart break just a little. She'd lived to the age of 75 and built herself a good life filled with children and friends. Her reputation in the legal community was beyond reproach. She'd shunned appointments to the bench to work exclusively on helping abused wives and girlfriends transcend their misery, and reaped boxes of awards and legions of supporters and enemies in the process.

But when Scotty read the name Tammy Schaeffer, he remembered the night of their date. It was a night he'd never forget.

It had been awkward, as dates go. They had known each other for years. She was his big sister's best friend, and they had grown up together. Lila had been his defender, his mom when Mom was gone, but Tammy had explained things to him that Lila refused to. As they all passed through puberty, Scotty had grown increasingly fond of Tammy and suffered bouts of jealousy when she started dating boys her own age. Tammy and Lila had been high school seniors when Scotty was a freshman, so he'd had the benefit of their protection during that dangerous freshman year.

Lila had joined the Air Force after graduation and Tammy had gotten married. By the summer of '67, Lila was a senior airman and striking for staff sergeant, and had decided to make the USAF her life's work.

Tammy had lost her husband, a trucker, in an accident and collected a very large amount of money in a settlement. Far from being the grieving widow, however, she was relieved to be shuck of the abusive sonofabitch. The last of her bruises finally disappeared months after his funeral, but the invisible wounds probably would never fully heal.

She had returned to her hometown and taken her own apartment and decided to go to college to "make something of herself," whatever that meant. But it was summer, yet, and her best friend's dangerously handsome little brother had just graduated high school and in September would follow his sister into the Air Force.

Being eighteen years old in Colorado in 1970 meant one could legally drink three-two beer. It was the weak sister to real beer, and Coors was the only brewer who produced it, so high school seniors and junior college students drank the stuff by the keg. Scotty turned 18 in May, just a couple of days after graduating. He had not yet celebrated either event; Scotty's mom and dad were both working night shifts at the local sugar refinery, and Lila had sent a card from Rhine-Main Airbase in Germany. His birthday found him sitting on the patio sipping iced tea in the late May dusk. He was reading Steinbeck in the fading light when Tammy found him.

"Hey, sport, what'cha doin'?" she asked. He looked up and caught his breath. Her breasts pushed coyly from inside a brown polyester blouse with tan piping. Her perfectly-shaped hips were encased in brown and gold plaid wool bells, and leather boots added an inch to her sinewy height. Her long, dark hair was held back by a simple headband and fell in careless curls down behind her shoulders. Her big, brown eyes gazed at him from behind stylish wing-tip glasses.

Scotty remembered to breathe.

"Nothing. Just waiting for Saturday to get here," he said.

Tammy flopped down into a chair next to him. "What, no birthday cake? No presents? What kind of birthday is this?"

Scotty grinned. "Yeah, well, that's why I'm waiting for Saturday. Mom and Dad are planning a shindig for me. It's gonna' be a real heller."

Tammy laughed at his sarcasm. The Connors were well-known teetotalers, and there was no way alcohol was going to figure into their son's combination graduation and 18th birthday celebration.

"Look, sport, I know you've snuck a few beers before, but how 'bout I take you down to Dagershaw's Den and buy you your first legal beer. It should be on your real birthday."

Scotty glanced up. "You mean, like a date?"

"Sure, why not? My treat."

"Well, I do enjoy being seen with beautiful older women," he teased.

"Think what it'll do for your reputation," she replied. "Scotty Connor, out with the drop-dead gorgeous Tammy Wentworth. You'll be the envy of the whole Class of '67."

It wasn't what she said, but the way she said it. Her voice took on a husky tone, and her lifted eyebrow was more than just innuendo. It carried a hint of promise.

"Sure, I'm game," he said.

And so, they ended up at a table in one of the two taverns in town that served 3.2 percent beer. Tammy ordered a pitcher and two glasses, along with two Dagburgers and fries. They feasted on the greasy confections and imbibed liberally, and when the pitcher was empty and the plates taken away, they sat and talked, awkwardly, until the house disc jockey decided to spin "Hey Jude."

They moved to the dance floor, and when Scotty took Tammy in his arms, he felt her melt into him, molding her body against his. It was something he'd never felt with all the high school girls he'd dated, even with Melanie Sickles, his steady girlfriend their senior year. As they moved slowly around the dance floor, he felt all of her pressing against him; her breasts, her belly, her thighs, all moving with him as if choreographed by some higher power.

Paul McCartney's ode poured from the speakers and they moved in rhythm to the music, the lyrics speaking as if to them alone:

"So let it out and let it in, hey Jude, begin,

"You're waiting for someone to perform with.

"And don't you know that it's just you, hey Jude, you'll do,

"The movement you need is on your shoulder."

Emboldened by the beer and the scent of her Prince Matchabelli Wind Song, he murmured into her ear, "I've always had a crush on you." He regretted the words the moment they left his lips, and he expected her to laugh or otherwise rebuff his pass.

"I know," she said. "And I love it."

He stopped cold. "And I love it?" What did that mean?

Tammy pulled back and looked at him. "What's wrong?"

"Huh?" he looked at her eyes and her expression told him she'd elicited exactly the response she wanted. "Uh, nothing."

"Good."

She nestled her head on his shoulder and they continued to dance. Scotty felt his heart thudding in his chest. He felt something else, the same thing he'd felt the first time he'd made out with Melanie, and he tried to put a gap between them so she wouldn't feel him hardening. Tammy was having none of it. She held him closer, and he felt his thickening manhood pressed against her pubis.

"Na na na nananana, nannana, hey Jude..." McCartney chanted.

Scotty was breathing much harder than a slow dance required. Was he being offered an opportunity? Did her words and actions mean something, or was she just being nice? He stared into a chasm that would swallow his self-esteem if she denied him, an abyss that would devour his manhood if she so much as giggled.

And then he leapt.

"I want to kiss you."

She brought her head up and her big, brown eyes glistened. "Then kiss me," she whispered, and she offered her lips to him.

They kissed. Scotty could not stop kissing her. He wondered how long they should stay locked together, but Tammy made no move to break the connection. They danced slowly, their mouths trying to consume each other. At some point Tammy moved Scotty's hands down to her bottom, and he intuitively pulled her against him, his hands massaging her buttocks. Miraculously they managed to keep moving to the music, making love on the dance floor, his cock stiffening and her pussy becoming moist. They kissed until his hands, eager to feel more of her, strayed to her breasts. She pushed him away.

"Hey, let's grab a six-pack and go to my place," she said abruptly.

Scotty needed no coaxing. Tammy paid for the beer at the retail window and they held hands, pausing to kiss passionately several times, on the way to her car. Scotty forced himself to sit quietly while Tammy drove to her apartment, but once she'd parked, they scampered up the stairs and Tammy struggled to unlock her door while Scotty's hands dived under her clothes, groping her tits and her belly and any other part of her he could reach.

They practically tumbled into the apartment, and Scotty kicked the door shut. They made it to her sofa before they began casting off their clothes. She was as eager as he to copulate; it had been months since she'd had any sex at all, let alone anything that satisfied her. Neither noticed that they'd left the beer in Tammy's car.

Scotty had his pants down and was already trying to penetrate something -- anything -- with his turgid member before Tammy even had her panties down. Finally, she planted her hands on his chest and pushed him off.

"Whoa, there, stallion," she commanded. "Let's go to the bedroom and get our clothes off and do this like civilized people."

His ardor temporarily dampened, Scotty stood up and shucked off all of his clothes. By the time he was naked, Tammy was in her bedroom and when he followed her there, she, too, was nude. She pulled back the bedspread, blanket and top sheet of her bed, turned them down neatly, and then crawled on it and invited him to join her. Scotty climbed onto the bed and lay next to her. Tammy kissed his beautifully shaped mouth and he kissed back. She used her tongue to explore his mouth, and sucked his tongue lightly.

"I want you to taste me," she whispered.

"What?" His lust-addled mind fought for comprehension.

"I want you to taste me." She spread her legs wide. "Down there, taste me."

Scotty shuddered at the sight of her proffered womanhood. Afraid he'd soil the bedding, as he had on prom night with Melanie Sickles, when she'd laughed at him and vaulted out of the motel room bed to announce his failure to her girlfriends, Scotty took a deep breath.

"Please, sweetie, eat my pussy!" Tammy lay on her back with her arms open, and he came up over her and kissed her again, then kissed her neck and her throat, and then moved down to take one nipple in his mouth, and then the other. He caught the nipple lightly between his teeth and lashed at it with the tip of his tongue. Tammy felt electrical tingles shoot through her body. Scotty moved down her body, kissing her chest and her belly and then her mons. He buried his nose in her pubic hair and inhaled deeply, smelling the sweet, earthy aroma of her womanhood. He found her cleft and delved into it. Tammy drew her knees up and spread her thighs wide to give him access to his prize.

Her pussy was already moist and her body ached for release. Scotty plunged his tongue into her, sucking on her labia and lapping at her clitoris. She grabbed the back of his head and pushed him into his task. He bored into her female opening, flicking his tongue as deeply into her as he could. Tammy felt hot waves of desire wash through her, a hunger so acute it was almost painful. Without being aware of it, she began thrusting her pelvis, grinding her pussy against Scotty's face. He pulled back, gasping for air, and Tammy whimpered at the loss of contact. She finally found her voice. "Fuck me," she demanded. "Fuck me now!"

Scotty moved up over her. Tammy opened her eyes and looked up at him. She reached down to grab his manhood to guide it into her, and a thrill shot through her.

"Oh, God, it's so hard!" she gasped. "You are really ready!"

Scotty didn't bother wondering why she'd be surprised at that; his cock needed to penetrate her and he pushed forward until his hot hardness bumped against her pussy. He lowered himself into her and in the next moment Scotty sank himself completely into her. She drew a long, loud gasp and her back arched as her hunger got the first taste of what she needed most.

Scotty fucked her with deep, firm strokes, fully in charge of their copulation. Tammy was sure this virgin boy would come too soon, that she would need to keep him aroused for a second coupling, but he stared into her eyes, smiling, kissing her lips and her cheek and her forehead, murmuring softly to her.

"Tell me what you want, baby, tell me what I should do," he whispered in her ear. "Tell me what feels good."

The idea that he cared what she felt at that moment, as he stabbed his manhood into her body, that he wanted her to enjoy it sent shivers through her body. When he started to speak again, she threw her arms around him.

"Shut up and fuck me!" she hissed. "You're so goddamn sexy, I just want you to fuck me."

He persisted. "I remember you on your wedding day," he whispered. "All dressed in white. I was so in love with you that day."

"Oh, God, no!"

"Oh, yes. And after you and Lyle went away in his black Chevy Impala, I went home and I thought about you with him ..."

"No, no, don't say it!" The idea of being wanted by another man -- just a boy, really -- "Oh, shit, please don't say ..."

"I pretended it was me and I jacked off."

"Oh, God, no, Scotty, no, no!"

"I was in you that night."

She moaned, cursing at the way his words aroused her. "Shut up and fuck me!" she whispered.

He did not shut up. With a steady stroke, he murmured into her ear how he'd wanted her for years, how he'd envied all the boys she'd been with. He reminded her of the time she and Lila had gone out to make out with some boys and they scared the girls so badly Tammy had wet her pants. He fucked her while he told her how that had aroused him for weeks on end. She envisioned this man-child jacking off while thinking of her, and a tremor shot through her body.

They fucked for nearly a quarter of an hour, and then Tammy began to feel herself losing control of her body. In the same moment, Scotty began stroking a little faster, still gently but insistently. She matched his stroke, thrusting up to meet him as he pounded down into her, her arms and legs clenched around his body. Without warning, the orgasm broke over her like a red wave. She nearly blacked out as the sensations washed over her, drowning her mind in pleasure so thick and sweet it was almost suffocating. She wrapped her legs around his waist and her hands clawed at his back, scoring him in a half-dozen lines, goading him to fuck her more and harder, and he applied himself even more keenly, driving her to the peak of her ecstasy. She gave voice to her pleasure in a long, formless cry that echoed from the cinderblock walls of the apartment.

Just when she thought she could not endure the orgasm one more moment, it began to subside, and in the next moments her mind began to rise from the darkness of her animal passion and come slowly into the light of satiation. Her thighs ached and her arms trembled. Her own body's wetness covered her belly, her sex, her bottom, and it ran down onto the bed under her.

Scotty was still fucking her, but she sensed that he had entered the "I never want to cum" zone. His cock was locked into eternal hardness, his buttocks and abs were willing to stroke almost forever, and his mind was lost in the wet softness of her body. She wouldn't last long at this rate; her legs would soon tire and her pussy was soon going to become chafed.

"Cum inside me, baby, shoot our sperm inside me," she whispered. "Don't stop fucking me, Scotty. Yes, baby, keep fucking me. Fuck me. You like it when I say that? Fuck. Me. Fuck me, Scotty. Shoot all of your sperm inside me, make me pregnant, make me have your baby."

She coaxed him, cajoled him, and in a few moments his stroke changed, and he faltered. He picked up the stroke again, faltered again, and thrust uncertainly a time or two. Finally, with a deep groan of animal contentment, he buried himself in her and shot long streams of sperm deeply into her belly. Tammy clasped him tightly and whispered in his ear. "That's it, baby, give it all to me," she urged him, and he thrust again. "Yes, baby, come inside me, give me all of your cum. Come on, every drop, baby." He emptied himself into her, his cock twitching inside her as he deposited the last of his seed.

They lay still, trembling in each other's arms, drenched in sweat and other body fluids, panting and catching their collective breath. Slowly they disengaged until Scotty finally rolled off of Tammy and they lay side by side, naked, sated, expended and exhausted.

"I thought I was taking your virginity," she said, panting.

"You did. You're my first. Thank you."

"Jesus, where did you learn to fuck like that?"

"I read," he said. "I read a lot."

Moments later they were in each other's arms, drifting off into the deep fuzziness of post-coital slumber.

They fucked again in the early morning hours, lazily and half-heartedly, as if obligated by their youth to copulate as often as physically possible, lest they lose an opportunity to couple, to ejaculate, to receive semen. When the dawn came, Tammy kindly but insistently pushed Scotty out of her bed and made him go home, then returned to the earthy aroma of sex in her bed and fell back asleep.

Scotty made passes at Tammy a time or two that summer but she always turned him away, and always with kindness. She gave him a chaste kiss on the cheek the day he left for Air Force basic training, but then she moved away and he rarely saw her after that. Years later he would have reason to believe that she'd gotten pregnant that night but had terminated the pregnancy. While she never married, she had two children by different lovers, and they were both successful lawyers in their own right.

-0-

"What's wrong, sweetie?" His wife sat in the chair next to his.

"Hmm? Oh, just an old friend. It happens more all the time, you know."

She craned her neck to read the newspaper that lay open on his lap. "Oh, I'm sorry. Who was it?"

"You remember Tammy Schaeffer? She was Lila's best friend, the lady who managed the guest book at our wedding."

"Oh, yeah. Pretty girl."

"Mmm hmm. Friend of the family, you know. She was a big part of my childhood while we were growing up back home."

She leaned over and kissed his forehead. "Well, I'm sorry for your loss, babe. But like you said, it happens more often at our age." She got up and headed back to the kitchen. "You want eggs or oatmeal for breakfast?"

"Surprise me," he said.

He stared again at the photo of the beautiful middle-aged lawyer pictured in the obituary. He closed his eyes and lay his head back and began to sing softly, whispering to himself:

"Na na na nananana, nannana, heeey Jude..."