"2nd Photo" is the middle segment of a three-part story, and each part is intended to be self-contained. But the interested reader may want to refer to "1st Photo" in which, of course, the main players and plot situations are introduced. One reader had a wonderful idea about the direction this work ought to take, but inasmuch as I had the second part in rough draft and the third part outlined, and being a first-timer and not overly confident, I decided not to take any detours. (However, I've filed that suggestion away for future reference. If there's sufficient interest I'd like to bring some of these players back for future stories.) In any case, it is hoped that where this part of the story does go, and where it reaches its destination in "Final Photo", will please that reader and you as well.
Beware
*
I.
Rod Cochran sat in the bleachers of Cougar Stadium, vaguely watching a squad of scantily-clad cheerleaders dance around plastic palm trees to "The Girl From Ipanema" jarringly played by the practicing Clearmont College Marching Band. The warm morning sun made him drowsy, bringing on a languid daydream and faint stirrings of desire. He was back at Barrow Lake, watching Mrs. Sutton emerge from the water, coming to him across the sand, mounting him and riding him as if he were a wild horse. Then he was sharply brought back to reality when the sight of a thin, awkward member of the clarinet section came into view -- Timmy Griffin. And once again Rod had to ask himself what Mrs. Sutton -- Toni Sutton -- ever saw in that bean-pole nerd. And then he remembered what she had told him on their way back from the lake two weeks ago: "I can get him to do what I want -- and not be blackmailed."
That thought stung him hard. For it was his witnessing of Timmy's encounter with Mrs. Sutton which directly led to Rod's uncomfortable role as her blackmailer, coercing the beautiful mature woman into an afternoon of the most intense sex he had ever enjoyed. The second photo that Rod had taken of Mrs. Sutton and Timmy during that encounter -- the one in which she was holding Timmy's cock while he pleaded with her to let him cum - was shoved into a pocket of his shorts. The thought of what he was about to do with that photo brought a jolt of expectant pleasure to him, followed quickly by a pang of a more ambiguous feeling, one which Rod wanted to ignore for the present. The sharp bleep of the director's whistle signaled a break for the band. Rod went down to the field and motioned to Timmy.
"So how did you like our bossa nova number?" Timmy asked, running over to Rod.
"The band sounded great, but the cheerleaders are overdressed."
"You gotta make a joke out of everything, don't you, Cochran?"
"Lighten up, Timmy. I'm about to make your day."
"It's Tim, not Timmy."
"Sure. Tim. C'mon, I want to show you something."
Rod threw an arm over Tim's boney shoulders and guided him behind the bleachers. When he was satisfied that no one was observing them, he pulled the envelope out and handed the photo to Tim.
"Oh shit! That's Mrs. Sutton and - "
"You. I like that expression on your face, don't you?"
Tim took a step back and doubled over, almost dropping his clarinet. Rod thought Tim was about to be sick. He snatched the photo away and returned it to his pocket telling Tim,"Take it easy, man."
"Where did you get that?" Tim was about to break into tears.
"Where do you think?"
"You were there? You saw everything?!"
"Not everything. Just enough."
"What are you going to do with it? Blackmail me or something?"
"Do I look like a blackmailer? Hey, I'm your friend." Rod almost gagged getting the words out.
"If my grandma ever saw this - "
"What's granny got to do with it?"
"She's got all the money in the family. I gotta trust fund waiting for me when I graduate. I'm fixed for life. If she ever laid eyes on that picture, she'd cut me off like . . .like cutting off my dick."
"Ouch. Relax, will ya? Nothing like that's going to happen. This is just between us. I thought you'd be flattered."
"Flattered?! You really piss me off, man. I only fucked Mrs. Sutton once and it was her idea. And you had to be there taking pictures. You really are a low-life, Cochran."
"I'll try not to take that personally. I only showed you the photo 'cause I gotta little proposition for you. How would you like to see Mrs. Sutton again?"
Tim suddenly seemed to forget his predicament. His eyes widened with excitement.
"Sure. Anybody would. She's a beautiful piece of ass."
Rod looked away. He could hardly stand to hear the object of his love and passion described so vulgarly.
"Is that what this is all about? Me and Mrs. Sutton?" Tim asked eagerly.
"Mrs. Sutton wants you to be her toy-boy for a night." There, he thought, I finally got it out.
"She told you that?"
"Just the other week."
"Which means you've been seeing her."
Rod nodded.
"Which means you've been blackmailing her with the same goddamned picture."
Rod wanted to slug his classmate, but the band director's whistle interrupted his quick anger.
"I like to think that I persuaded her with my great charm and wit."
" That' ll be the day. When do I see her?"
"How about Friday night?"
"Okay. Where?"
"I was thinking on your dad's yacht down on the river. Its not being used, is it?"
"Mom and Dad are over in Europe with Grandma. They won't be back 'til the end of the month."
"Perfect. I'll call you in a day or so and set it up."
"And nobody's going to know anything about this except us, right?"
"Correct."
"And there's going to be no more pictures, right?"
Rod mockingly raised his hand. "Scout's honor."
Tim nodded and started for the field. He hadn't gone far when he turned back to Rod. A large grin cut across his narrow face. That's it, Rod thought, give me a great big shit- eatin' grin you simple-ass son of a bitch. Goddammit, what the hell am I doing, anyway? Mrs. Sutton's voice suddenly was in his head:" Is that why you're doing this to me? To get revenge on Timmy because I chose to be with him and not you?" And now here he was arranging a rendezvous between Mrs. Sutton and Tim because . . . Well, I'll be damned if I know why, he thought.
Rod shook his head and jogged to his car. It was going on high noon. Time to call Mrs. Sutton.
II.
Twelve minutes later Rod pulled onto Earlywine Drive and parked down the street from the Sutton's large rambling home in the neighborhood of Hyatt Park, the same affluent suburb in which Rod lived. Seeing the house, he once again returned to the afternoon a few weeks ago when he approached the bath house behind the Sutton place and saw Timmy servicing Mrs. Sutton doggie-style. But at the moment, instead of focusing his anger -- and his jealously -- on Timmy, his mind's eye stayed on Mrs. Sutton, the way her hair swayed, the heaving of her exquisite breasts, her control over Timmy And he thought how soon it would be when he would bring them together again. And for whatever confused reason, that thought right now excited him.