Sweat dripped down Nathan's face. Trish, his girlfriend writhed on all fours in front of him, her ass slapping his hips with every thrust. They were both eighteen years old, and tonight was their last night together. Tomorrow she would leave for college, and Nathan would continue on in town without her.
"Spank my ass, Nate," she said, looking back over her left shoulder. Perspiration beaded on her face, her brown hair tangled in it and stuck to her. He let a half-hearted palm drop with a smack.
"Harder." No more looking back, just head down, teeth grinding.
Bang. This time he gave her his right palm, and with a bit more force. Feeling the burning building inside him, he grunted loud, and tried to hold off. For distraction he let his left hand fly again, then the right again alternating from holding either side of her hips, and slapping her.
"Pull...my...hair." Trish's voice was barely clear enough to understand now, her own orgasm approaching.
With his right hand on the small of her back, he leaned in and snatched her brown locks with his left. Nate was in another world now. They had only done it four times before anyway, but all four had been standard missionary. Tonight was new, tonight Trish had wanted to try something different, and now she was asking for things he had never thought she wanted. His heart was pounding in his chest, and his head was swimming. Orgasm the only thing his body wanted now, his head finally gave up the battle.
Nathan was hit with the most powerful feeling in his short sexual career. When his balls started to pump, he lost control of his balance, and was unaware when he leaned forward and rammed Trish into the pillow. His hand still clutching the back of her head as she hit her own climax.
Four minutes later they were both aware enough to disengage. Both were huffing for air through wide sloppy smiles. It took them the better part of ten minutes to calm, and then Trish wordlessly rose and started for her clothes. Nate gawked at her skinny form as she dressed before he gathered his words.
"What was that all about, the spanking and stuff?" he asked.
"I wanted to try it out...since I'm leaving. What did you think?" She was fastening her bra now, and was already wearing her plain white panties.
"Awesome, sorry about smothering you." Now he was sitting up in his bed and lacing his hands behind his head.
"That was the best part...Listen." Trish grew serious now. "I'm gonna take off now. Be great Nathan. I'm really glad we got to know each other." She pulled her shirt over her head, and the last he saw of her was her rear end leaving the room clad in a pair of cut-off shorts.
Several minutes later, Nathan let out a deep breath. Trish hadn't been much of a girlfriend anyway; they went out only because neither of them had much going on. In bed her saw her as a supermodel. Out of bed, truth be told, her hair was rather mousy and her teeth were rather crooked. But, as Nathan glanced around the trailer he shared with his father, he knew that she had been just about the best thing he had going.
Now he was left living in a rented trailer with no car, and no girl. Advantages were simply something he did not possess. He was tall and thin, six foot, 130 pounds with plain brown hair, and ordinary brown eyes. Even in his nicest clothes, a lack of confidence grown from a life of have-not made him seem insignificant.
There was no money either, mom bailed out on him and dad when Nate was two. Dad meanwhile worked as a tow truck driver, and they used the company truck to get around. Eleven years ago dad had fallen asleep at the wheel and rammed a family on vacation in their minivan. Naturally they had sued, and now almost all of dad's checks went to the state to cover the lawsuit. At the end of the month there was never cash for nice things. Hell, they didn't even order pizza.
When the sun rose the next morning Nathan Prescott was acutely aware that his life was a clean slate. No more high school as of three months ago, no more girl as of six hours ago, and nothing left to do with his day.
Getting out of bed in his boxer shorts, Nate went to the trailer's front door and looked out. His father's tow truck was there as expected. Dad wouldn't go to work again until about six pm since he worked the grave shift. Taking three steps to the kitchen, Nate went about making himself a bowl of cereal.
For a few brief minutes, Nathan ate in peace. Sitting in a battered recliner staring at the news on TV, slowly shoveling a spoon loaded with cereal into his mouth, he was jolted when there was a knock at the door.
The door opened on it's own before Nathan could get up, and his gray bearded grandfather walked in with a brown package under his arm.
"Hey Pops," he said to his grandfather, and settled back into his cereal.
"Put that down Nate, I need to talk to ya." Pops sat down across from him in the old couch, and set the brown package in his lap.
In a moment Pops took in a deep breath and slowly began to speak, his eyes locked with Nathan's.
"Now I know you don't have much, and I get the feeling you don't expect to. So I want you to have something my grandfather gave me." The old man began unwrapping the package, and Nathan could see that the brown was actually old weathered paper. As Pops removed it the object inside was revealed to be a large book.
"You read this kid, and you can have or do anything you want. This can make your dreams come true, and your wishes turn to reality." The old man hadn't taken his eyes off of Nathan, and slowly held out the large leather-bound book.
With a bit of hesitation...Nathan reached for it also, but when he grasped it Pops wouldn't let it go. He thought he heard Pops saying something under his breath, and the book was suddenly quite heavy in his hand as Pops let go.
"There ya go buddy, every opportunity you could ever ask for, all bound in leather. Just remember to trust it, like you trust me. And do me a favor, kiddo?" Pops was softer now, almost frail. His eyes showed remorse and a bit of weakness.
"Sure Pops, what ever you want." Nathan stammered the words out not wanting to let the old man down, and also beginning to wonder what the hell he was talking about.
"Don't let your dad live like this forever, do what ever you can to get him up on his feet again. But as for the book, don't let your dad see it either, don't tell him I was here. Most importantly...don't let anyone else read it." Softness turned to ice when Pops spoke of the book, and the old man thrust a hand in his pocket and turned to walk out the door, stopping, only long enough to throw Nate a nod as he went down the steps.
Nate threw the book into his room, and forgot about it for the rest of the day. Much later, after his father had made off for work he remembered the tome, and dragged it out with him into the kitchen. Snatching a soda from the icebox, and dropping dramatically into the living room's lone beaten recliner, Nate closed his eyes and thought about how odd Pops had acted. A few sips of soda later, he plucked the book from his side and looked it over.
He first gazed at the front cover and read the title: How to influence people, and get what you really want! There was no author.
"That's a retarded title for an heirloom," Nate thought as he impassively thumbed the cover open.
Shortly he was looking at the oddest table of contents ever. The chapter titles were all blank...save the first. It ominously read, "How to start your adult life". As he turned to the first page of the chapter Nathan almost jumped out of his chair in shock. The page was blank when he first opened it, but the words appeared out of nowhere after only a moment. "Have all you desire and want. Just trust this text, and do as it says." The book will sort out the rest. Next came a list much like a to-do list. At the bottom of the list was a simple instruction telling Nathan to complete the list and then read more. It was pretty simple, everything on the list was something Nathan had planned to do anyway except for the third and last item.
It was a short and direct list. Get a job...something physical. Nate had figured he would have to do that anyway since he didn't have any skills. Then, get a car, again already one of Nate's current plans. Finally, and oddly "Go to a strip club". This was the one that had him confused. What the hell kind of person would put that on a "how to start your life" list?
However, since he was doing the others anyway, Nathan figured he'd end up doing the last one too. The next morning Nathan walked half a mile to a site where a company was going to build a strip mall. A foreman named Robert wasn't too impressed with Nathan's build or experience, but hired him to shovel sand into a cement mixer all the same. It took Nate the better part of the day to get to the company's main office and fill out employment paperwork. He got home just in time to see his dad driving off in his tow truck.
The next few weeks went quickly. Shoveling sand and hauling bags of cement was rough work, and he usually staggered back to the house aching all over, but by morning he was always refreshed, and never sore. It had to be the book...somehow it was taking care of him. He did what it said, and it took care of him. Or something to that effect that at any rate.
After three weeks, Nathan had managed to save up a few hundred dollars, and Robert approached him about staying on for a bit more. The concrete pouring was complete, but the job had to start framing. Robert explained that he would need some good grunt work to get that done.
"You don't bitch, and you work fast. My guys could use you. You'll end up as an apprentice in the union too. Once the union has you there's always work in this town." The bigger man had said all this through his morning coffee.
Since the jobsite was close, and he still hadn't gotten the car, Nate figured it was for the better. He just didn't realize how much better. The new job came with a five dollar an hour raise and union benefits. Work was still hard though; basically his "apprentice" job consisted of hauling tools and materials from wherever they were, to where ever they were needed.
Two months later, framing was almost complete, and Nathan had managed to buy a used pickup. It was ten years old, and pretty beat up, but it ran well enough. The morning after he drove it to work, Robert wanted to see him again.
