brainsnorts inc >.<

Just as 12 was not easy to write, neither was this, but for different reasons.  It took longer than I thought, but it got easier as I progressed.  It might be very unexpected, or it might not be for some of you.  Hard to say.  I can only hope you enjoy it.

Also, for those worried about the incident with Lilly in the garage, the roleplay thing, that’s not over yet.  It is more significant than you might think, and it will resurface but not in the same form.  I know that’s cryptic, but I don’t want you to think it was a random thing.

Three questions at the end.

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Chapter 14

Monday afternoon, shortly before 5 pm, Jay was walking Peeek towards the baseball field as Rob backed out of his driveway and headed to Philadelphia, roughly a half hour northwest.  Both men could see Annie at the door, her mousy smile, dirty-blonde hair waving both goodbye and hello at the same time.  She closed the door and eventually ended up on her computer, waiting for a message from Jay.

A:  Ready when you are.  What’s up?

J:  Just come on over to my house.  Knock and I’ll open the door.  Wear what you were wearing a few minutes ago when you were at the door.  Also, bring a hairbrush.  Also, I forgot to tell you to come over on an empty stomach.  Hopefully you haven’t eaten dinner yet.

A:  hairbrush.  No dinner – didn’t eat yet, that’s fine.  When should I leave?

J:  5:20.  Give him time to be sure he didn’t forget something and might come back home

A:  ok.

Annie knocked.  Jay opened the door with a great smile and new jeans.

“Hi.  C’mon in.”

Confused for a moment, she popped a smile, nodded quickly, and walked in as if walking into a completely dark room without knowing where the light switch is.

“Just want you to know,” she said, “you sent me some really intense pictures.”  She tried but hesitated at eye contact.  “I mean, I can play along with certain things online and whatever, but I wasn’t sure what you were going for.”

“I can explain that,” Jay said, noticing how short she was and how much he liked it.  Makes that schoolgirl fantasy seem more real.

“I mean, I didn’t know if I was going to walk in here and get tackled to the floor and tied up or something.”

“Nah, I’m sorry.  Nothing like that is going to happen.”  He motioned to his sofa.  “Have a seat, and let’s talk.”  She followed his direction.  “First, we have to figure out dinner.  Do you want pasta with or without a meat sauce, chicken, or fish?”

“What, are you running a restaurant or something?”

“No, I just wanted to make us dinner, and I want you to have your choice.”

“Damn, didn’t even think about that,” she fought a smile but lost.  “Go with chicken.”

“Great, then I’ll open a Sauvignon blanc.”  He headed for the kitchen.  “Come on.”

He pulled three different bottles of wine from a low shelf and left them for her to choose.

“I really don’t know much other than white or red.”

“You want to learn?”

“Uh, sure,” she said.  Her arms shifted, and she kept half of herself behind the granite countertop as he popped open all three bottles and poured a little of each into six wine glasses.  “You must really like wine.”

“Just a bit.  Now, while I’m preparing the chicken, I’ll talk you through some basics about wine.”

For the next half hour, Jay prepared thin-sliced chicken breast, egg dipped, coated in a mixture of panko, parmesan, flour, and ground Ritz crackers.  In a separate pan, he sautéed planks of yellow squash in butter.

While doing that, he guided her through a wine education, explaining the differences between reds and whites as well as the subtleties within each.  He explained the differences between wines stored in oak and steel barrels and guided her to detect the taste of each.  He opened her senses to reisling and chardonnay.  He taught her about what is or is not champagne.  He explained why certain wines go with certain foods, especially certain cheeses.  He discussed the proper storage both before and after opening a bottle and why screw tops are actually better than cork, despite the popular misconception of the reverse.

Throughout the culinary education, Jay watched carefully and adjusted as Annie smiled, moved, moved close at times, and at one point even hopped up and sat on the countertop as he was showing when to turn over the chicken without tearing the coating.

He guided her to the stove and placed the spatula in one hand, fork in the other, guiding her through the dinner dance, pointing out how the smell of the frying squash was exactly like a toasting marshmallow and explained the chemical changes within the molecules of each that created that smell.  He kept close, sometimes closer, and let her lead the dance until he felt her leaning into him.  When he teasingly inched away, he knew she would inch the same way, as if her round ass were able to hold him and pull him towards her, which it apparently did very well.

When it was time for a little lemon in the frying pan, he was sure to put a drop on her neck and then, gently first, but eventually feast on it, and she pushed back against him even more.  And he pushed forward even more.  She let her head fall back, inviting the vampire to take as he wished from her blood.  When he used a little more teeth than before, she flinched at first, then stiffened, then melted back against him.

Six wine glasses had been half filled.  All were emptied and then two refilled.  She took a mouthful, then pulled him close to kiss him and filled his mouth with her wine.  His eyes seemed to disappear, and she did it again.  As he began to plate dinner, she added an ice cube into her wine glass and swirled it with her finger.  She took the finger and slowly teased his lips with it, then gently pushed her way into his mouth.

Her hips, under their own control, were grinding against him, teasing his hardness that probably could not get any harder.  She swirled the cube a little more and then sank to her knees in front of him.  She unzipped and lowered his pants just enough to expose him.  Again she swirled her finger in the wine and then traced his hardness with her cool, wet finger, gently blowing on it to enhance the cold.  Again, she swirled, traced, and blew, this time maintaining eye contact. 

She pulled the ice cube from the glass, crushed it with her teeth, and gently blew on him from beneath, the sides, and above, never once letting her mouth touch him, but never once letting him push too close to her mouth, always keeping the same few inches away.  She carefully tucked him back in his pants and zipped him up before turning back to the stove as if nothing else had happened.  

They shared more wine with dinner, and he jokingly lit candles to make it as corny as possible.  A few times she reached a finger and played with the flame closest to her, then dared him to do the same.  He did not want to but knew the eventual result would be worth the temporary pain.

He announced that dessert would be various things to dip in melted, dark chocolate.  Then he guided her to the sofa again, in front of the television, and sat her where he could stand behind her.  She was to find whatever she wanted to watch peripherally on television while they talked about whatever might randomly guide them.

As she channel surfed, they both found ways to reveal their senses of humor and intellect, making fun of certain shows and presenting thought-provoking arguments for or against issues raised by other shows.  While this happened, he brushed her hair into different styles, parted her hair different ways, applied a few different braids, and dug his fingers in for a mind-numbing scalp massage.

After her wine glass was again empty, and as the light of day also disappeared, he pulled her head back enough to grind himself against her neck while still tending to her hair.  When her eyes remained closed and voice remained quiet long enough, he unzipped his pants and placed his hardness on the back of her neck.  He reached forward, unbuttoned her blouse to expose her shoulders, and let his hardness find its way across her shoulders and upper back.  Instead of brushing her hair, he was now giving a neck and shoulder massage with more than just his hands.

Several times she let her head fall back, eyes closed, and mouth open, as if it were an invitation for him to enter it, much like the picture he had sent of the woman on her knees in front of him.  He teased and was close to fulfilling her suggestion, but he stayed mostly in check and control of himself even with full knowledge that most anything would be welcome and wanted.

He removed his shirt, pants, everything, and sat behind her, his legs around hers, his arms around hers.  She was still in control of the television, and, having the same cable system, knew where to find the adult menu from which she selected a title that involved one woman and a group of men.  He bunched her hair up with one hand and pulled her head to one side as his lips, teeth, and tongue attacked the other.  Attacked enough to leave a mark inside but not outside.  His other hand covered hers, and he worked her almost puppet like, guiding her hand to her breasts, guiding her to touch herself as he wished, as he ordered.

She tried to stand to remove her pants, but he held her in place in front of him.  He moved his ankles around hers and pulled her legs apart, then guided her hand lower and lower until it was in such a place that she wanted to remove the pants more than ever.  He continued working her hand over the material and, as hoped, rode his hips along with hers as she gyrated as much as she could, even straining her crotch against the tightness of her jeans for pleasure.

Knowing that her pants were staying on, she reached behind her to take advantage of his body.  He backed slightly so her hand could grip and stroke him.  He allowed it until it felt too good, and he was too close to ending.  He knew as well as anyone the differences between the pre and post-orgasm brain, the flood and then the depletion of endorphins, the lust and longing, and he was not going to risk that.  He assumed, however, it was different for women, some women, as he felt at least three body-shaking moments from Annie who quickly recovered and continued.

From a place she couldn’t see, he pulled a red and white bandana, covered her eyes, and tied it behind her head.  On any other day, she might have loved it, but not this day.  She turned to him, pushed it off, and almost through tears said, “Next time.  I want to see you.”  He hesitated and complied.

She pushed him back so that he was lying on the sofa, then she climbed and straddled him even with her jeans still on.  “Take them off,” she whispered.  “Please.  Take them off me.  Unbutton them, pull them off.  Please.”  She nodded, then he did, and then he did as she asked.  Then he removed everything else before allowing her on top of him again.  And again.  And again.

In the movie on the screen, one woman was surrounded, engulfed, and enjoyed by three men.  For Annie, it was one, but it could have been two or three as her head spun with wine, wishes, and wants.  She used every curve her spine could possibly form as she torque and twisted on top of him.

He flipped her beneath him because he knew the end was near, and he wanted that his way.  He needed to drive, to feel in charge.  With one hand, he held both of her wrists together above her head.  The other hand guided her legs, positioned her like a doll, whichever way he wanted her for however long until he moved her another way and another way.  Each change of position happened faster, increasing with everything else in rhythm until he knew it was only a matter of seconds.

He watched her eyes and waited for the moment when she realized that there was no protection on him, nothing to stop him.  He waited for her eyes to open a little extra wider, like a silent discussion that said, “Are you sure?  I don’t know.  Is it okay?  I don’t want to stop.  Should we stop?  I think we should stop.  I can’t stop.  Can you stop?  I can’t stop.  Don’t stop.”  And that’s what he wanted, and that’s when it was time for everything to come to an end.

He ground deep, as packing gunpowder into the barrel of a gun but never believing it was ready, packing and pushing deeper, adding more powder, pushing deeper again.  Until he had no more strength and she had no more room.

It might have been a minute or ten minutes before he realized how her legs were locked around his, still holding herself and him in place, the only place they should ever be for everything to be in the right place.  Any other place would never feel as right as this place at this very time.  He tried to get up, but she wouldn’t let him, not yet.  The longer she made him wait, the more he was unsure of what to do.  She was wrapped around him so tightly that as he tried to get up by nearly doing a push-up, he lifted her with him as she used every part of her possible to cling to him.  More than just her arms and legs.

“Blanket?” she asked.

“If you let me get up,” he smiled, and she released him.

Suddenly, the adult movie with the woman and men still going seemed wrong.  Not today, but maybe another day, and he clicked it off before pulling a blanket from his bed and returning to the sofa where he wrapped them both inside it, him behind her, arms surrounding her again and pulling her close enough for them each to feel the other’s heartbeat.

Jay was in the most comfortable position physically but not emotionally.  He couldn’t feel temperature or weight, as if he were floating in a suspension fluid that perfectly matched his heat and heaviness, like weightless perfection.  But his mind could not stop racing and bouncing, from the blindfold she rejected, the handcuffs still beneath the sofa, the ropes still beneath his bed, the liquid from the crushed medication still waiting for him to slip into her wine glass, the cameras, the leather straps, and the outfits that he assumed would be her size.  All of those things waited for him, called to him, asked, “When is our turn?  You can’t forget us.  We deserve to play too.”

Not today, Jay thought.  Maybe tomorrow.

She turned herself beneath the blanket and faced him.  He hadn’t seen eyes like that in too many years, eyes that were that close but actually wanted to be that close.  Wanted to feel that good and wanted him to feel that good.

“What do we do now?” she asked.

He closed his eyes and pulled her face to his neck.  To her, it likely seems affectionate.  To him, it was avoiding her.  It was implying an answer, implying that pulling her close was the answer when it was closer to the opposite.

He could feel her eyelashes against his neck, knowing exactly when they were open or closed.  They were open, and he felt each blink, but each blink lasted longer and longer until he felt that her eyes were closed and staying closed.  The longer hers stayed closed, the longer his stayed open.  He felt her arms, shoulders, and legs relax until her breathing was slow enough that he knew she was asleep.  He gave her one small kiss on the forehead, then he wished he had never met her.

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Question 1:  How – if at all – unexpected was this between Jay and Annie?

Question 2:  Did I do enough to show that, as with other situations, Jay is manipulating and gaining trust before pouncing on his prey?

Question 3:  Did I do enough to show that Annie did her best to reverse the role of control, and they each had their own moments of control?

For those interested, and in case I have not already stated so, I’m expecting Woodbury Avenue to reach between 25 and 30 chapters.  It’s good to know where you are in the grand total, and you’re about halfway through.  FYI.

Some of you had questions or concerns about Jay’s behavior in 12 and suggested that what he did was inconsistent compared to previous things.  You’re not wrong, but I think this chapter will clear that up.  If not, let me know.

Two questions at the end.  Thanks for sticking around.

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Chapter 13

It was a late Friday night, and Jay was having trouble sleeping.  Instead of three ounces of Sprite and nine ounces of wine, he went with all twelve ounces of wine but still three ice cubes.  It took more time to pour it than it did for him to drink it as he peered out the kitchen window.  He could see the tall trees rising behind Carl and Jenn’s house and insulated them from the train tracks.  The trees had an odd, rusty color, which Jay eventually realized was light cast from the roaring fire pit that he assumed Carl was feeding with chunks of wood, probably pine, Jay thought, due to the popping noises audible from across the street. 

Jay put on his night-black clothes and slipped silently out of the basement door.

His first stop was the back of Rob and Annie’s house.  They were in their basement, with the same layout as the other houses on the street, watching a movie at a safe distance from each other as the dog sat at Rob’s feet.  It did not take long for the dog’s attention to lean towards the window through which Jay was peeking, which caused him to move on.

He crept through the adjacent backyards until reaching the baseball field.  He sprinted through the dark side of the field, through the shared parking lot with the church, and reached the thick tree line that ran parallel with Woodbury Avenue while also hiding the train tracks.  Instead of walking through the trees along the far end of those houses belonging to his neighbors across the street, Jay walked deeper into the trees until he found the tracks.

Night vision, Jay thought.  That’s what I need next.

Tight-roping along the train rail, he avoided the snapping of twigs too close to the other yards and kept moving east until he could see from the backs of houses that he was directly along the fence line between Carl and Jenn and Steve and Carrie.  He then crept close to their back fences until he found a tree with low enough branches and thick enough leaves.  Jay shinnied up until he reached a strong branch and climbed to a height of about forty feet where he found some strong branches on which he could sit comfortably enough.

Jay focused on the chairs surrounding the fire pit where Carl was still tossing in occasional sticks and twigs, swigging from a beer bottle, and talking while motioning about something with Jenn and his best friend and fellow firefighter Sonny.  Although Jay could hear scant sounds, the interaction appeared as a disagreement between the men, and Jenn was staying out of it.

Boring, Jay thought after twenty or so minutes.  He pulled his cell phone from his pocket, pressed *67 to block caller ID services, pressed a few other buttons, and watched Carl head inside to answer his phone.  Jay watched as Sonny walked to the rear windows through which he could see, Jay assumed, Carl on the phone.  Jenn quickly stood behind him and worked her hands along his back, up his shoulders, and around to his chest.  She leaned her head against his back and seemed to hold him tightly, although he didn’t seem to be doing anything at all.  She stepped around to kiss him, but it only lasted a handful of seconds before Carl returned to the yard.

Something needs to be done, Jay thought.

He shifted his attention to Steve and Carrie’s windows but could only see a few kids watching television in the basement.  He could not find the parents anywhere, at least not near the windows.  After scanning a few more homes, he no longer felt the voyeur drive.  He climbed down, more slowly than the upward climb, but eventually reached the ground and retraced his steps on his way home.

As he approached the rear of his house, a set of car headlights flashed by quickly but caught his attention.  When the front of Steve and Carrie’s house was temporarily lit up, Jay knew they had just arrived home.  He quickly entered his basement and moved to the kitchen where he could see them as they stepped out of Steve’s Jeep.

Carrie walked carefully, too carefully, from what Jay surmised was having too much to drink.  Steve attempted to hold her upright, but he wasn’t completely stable himself.  They laughed, louder each time, and eventually Carrie’s platform shoes tipped and knocked her to the grass.  When Steve laughed harder and extended a hand to help her up, she pulled him to the grass next to her where they shared a happy, quiet moment.

Although the couple could not see, a crowd gathered in their living room window, small heads visible in silhouette to Jay as he too watched from his window.  Shortly after, Steve helped Carrie to her feet.  She kicked off her shoes, hooked a finger through the straps, took Steve’s hand, and pulled him to the sidewalk for a late-night stroll.  Jay craned his neck at the best angle possible to follow them through the window as they headed towards the baseball field.  He was about to leave through the basement and follow them, but they stopped, turned, and headed back to their home across the street.

Jay needed a shower to rinse off the sweat, pine needles, dirt, and other things.  After drying but before dressing, he sat at his computer and opened his e-mail to find a message from Annie.

At 11:30 tonight I’ll be online if you want to talk.  Email first so I know if you’ll be around.

Jay looked at the clock in the bottom-right corner of the computer.  11:39.  He quickly e-mailed back that he was online and going to the ChatLine.com site they had been on before.  He searched her ID, Phillygirl88 but nothing showed up.  He checked his e-mail again, still nothing.

With a fist that needed to relax, he went to the kitchen to fix another glass of wine, soda, and ice before sitting back down at his desk again.  There was mail from Annie.

Getting offline.  He seems suspicious of what I’m doing online, asking questions, so I’m going to sleep.  Also, that role play chat thing the other night was fun, but next time I have to be older.  12 is a little too young for something like that.  I admit it was exciting, but still a little creepy for me.  Not younger than high school next time.  Also got to admit that when I walked the dog past your garage today, it got me a little wet.  G’night.

He typed a reply.

Check your mailbox tomorrow for something important.  Not this mail, real mailbox.  Let me know when you get it.  You’ll know what it is when you see it.  Don’t worry.  It’s nothing that will make him suspicious.

Jay closed his laptop a little harder than usual.  He smiled at himself for what he had done, but he still had that fist for not being online at the right time.  Still naked, he went upstairs to his bedroom, lay on his back, and relived the episode from the garage.  After fully enjoying himself, he washed up and returned to bed for the night.

_____________________________

As Jay locked his front door Saturday morning, he heard Steve call him from across the street.

“Morning,” Jay answered.  “What’s up?”

“You still interested in playing softball with us?”

“Definitely,” Jay continued towards his car.

“Can you make it to a meeting tonight?”

“Sure.  Where?”

“Fire house,” Steve said.

“The bar, right?” Jay smiled.

“Right.  About nine.”

“No problem.”

“You want to drive with me?”

“Let me drive,” offered Jay.  “Designated driver.”

“I like the sound of that.  I’ll knock on your door at nine.”

“Excellent.” 

After polite waves, Steve clicked on his iPod and began his five-mile run and Jay drove to the Five-Star Diner for his regular Saturday morning breakfast.  Three eggs over easy.  Home fries with onions.  Three slices of rye toast, dry and well done.  Bacon well done.  Coffee.  Pineapple juice, which was free before eleven, thus it was always free for him.

_______________________________

At one that afternoon, Jay checked his e-mail and found a message from Annie.

You son of a bitch!  You think you’re funny?   That was brilliant.  Let me know what’s up.

_______________________________

At five that afternoon, Jay dug through his contacts for Kristi the waitress from The Fire House.

“Hello.”

“Is this Kristi?”

“Yeah, who’s this?”

“My name is Jay.  Older guy.  I met you one night a few weeks ago at The Fire House.”

“The guy with the twenties?” Kristi asked.

“Yeah.  You owe me a favor, remember?”

“Yeah.  Depends on what kind of favor you’re talking about.”

“Not talking about sex, if that’s what you’re afraid of.”

“Actually, that’s okay.”

“Really?” Jay smiled.

“Well, with you it’s okay.  Not just anyone.  But don’t spread that around.”

“Why me?”

“Because I could tell you’re a nice guy.  And it’s just sex.  Big deal.  If you’re going to throw me a hundred for safe sex, so what?  I have more of a chance of being hurt carrying trays of food all night.  And it’s not like I haven’t done that before anyway.  I mean, Carl’s giving us the chance to clean ourselves up, and that’s great.  But a little extra cash on the side isn’t bad, as long as it doesn’t get around.  You know what I mean?”

“Completely know what you mean.,” said Jay.  “You working tonight?”

“No, I’m off.”

“You going to be busy?”

“I’ll be home studying for final exams,” she said.

“College, right?  Not high school?”

“Yeah, relax.”

“I’m going to text you somewhere between eleven and midnight.  When I do, get down to the bar and I’ll explain when I see you.  And don’t worry.  No sex,” Jay said.  “Well, not tonight.  Maybe another night.”

“Okay.  I’ll be waiting.”

_________________________________

The Fire House had a large, round table in a corner that could seat up to fifteen, even though only twelve were there.  Steve stood almost the whole time, especially when a server brought yet another pitcher of beer.  There were three servers who helped with their table that night, and all three, who also looked just like Carl’s girlfriend Jenn, remembered and ignored the guy who tried to get them to take twenty-dollar bills off his crotch.  Kristi was yet further proof of Jay’s assertion that if you keep trying, you can accomplish anything, regardless of how wrong it might appear.

Jay was surprised to see Rob O’Connor at the table, but he was not surprised when he heard Rob telling the others about the two free Phillies tickets he got in the mail for Monday night’s game.  It all came down to who he would invite to take the second ticket, which prompted a bidding war, especially because the Phillies were playing the New York Mets, about the most sought-after team on their schedule.  It was disappointing to Jay that Steve was not interested.

“Okay, okay,” Steve directed.  “Let’s get the team settled.  Over thirty, so make sure you have proof.  Fast pitch.  Anyone have a position they prefer?”

“Doggie style,” one guy offered.

“Reverse cowgirl,” another cried, high-fiving the guy next to him.

“Sixty nine,” called another.

Whatever your wife wants, Jay was close to saying, but he never did anything that simple.

“I’m good catching, if nobody else wants it,” Jay said.

“Good.  Jay is catching,” Steve waved around, “this is Jay, my new neighbor.  He knows what he’s doing.  Taught my kid a curveball and added about fifteen to his fastball.”

Several men shook hands and waved, Jay waved back.  As he hoped, there was nobody who appeared familiar.  Jay still did not know why, but Rob still did not give him the fondest of glances.

By eleven, they had finished three pizzas and six pitchers, and Jay knew it was as good a time as any to text Krista that eleven-thirty would be a great time to meet in the parking lot.  He carefully explained several details that were not an option.  She didn’t have to have any kind of sex unless she wanted to.  Her face wouldn’t be seen.  She did not have to undress unless she wanted to.

By eleven fifteen, the team only knew when the next meeting would be.  By eleven-twenty, Krista was ready and parked next to Jay’s car in the far end of the parking lot.  By eleven-thirty, Jay had successfully guided the rest of the team, even Rob, to leave.  Five minutes later, Jay was carefully guiding Steve to the far corner of the parking lot, where his car was barely visible on a nearly moonless night.  Another five minutes and there were flashes of light beneath the trees near the dumpster.  One nearby resident closed his windows, thinking a powerful storm was on the way.

Twenty minutes later, Jay knocked softly on the door across the street.  Carrie answered in tiny Victoria’s Secret shorts with “PINK” across the ass and tank top that showed most of her belly.

“What the hell happened?” she asked.

“Softball meeting at The Fire House,” Jay said, lugging Steve from one side while Carrie took the other.  “I guess the drinking got out of hand.”  They rested near the second floor stairs before lugging him up.  “Does he do this often?”

“Not in a long time.  When he started running, he pretty much quit except for parties or something.”  Steve was zombie-like, able to move limbs when guided but without any real consciousness.

“I guess tonight was one of those times,” Jay said as they reached the bedroom.  “Kids asleep?”

“Downstairs watching a movie, probably fell asleep by now,” Carrie said.  “He’s not supposed to be drinking while training for the Fourth of July race.”

“I’m sorry.  I should have cut him off.”

“It’s his own fault.  If anyone should apologize, it’s me for how I’m dressed.”

They dumped Steve on the bed and rolled him so his head was near a pillow.

“Apologize?” Jay laughed.  “I should be as lucky as him to come home to someone dressed like that.  Who looks like you.  In fact, you better cover yourself up a little bit before I lose control of myself.”

“Oh, stop it,” Carrie blushed.

Jay saw a black dress hanging on a closet door in the bedroom.

“Is that yours?” he asked.

“Yeah.”

“Wow,” Jay exaggerated.  “Special occasion?”

“No,” Carrie shrugged.  “I just always wanted one of those ‘little black dresses.’  And I thought maybe he would like it.”

Jay took it from the door and held it in front of her.

“He will love it.  Unless he’s gay.  That’s fabulous,” he said.  “Which shoes are you going with?”

“I’m not sure,” she took the dress from him, held it herself, and turned with a slight preen.

“Let’s see your choices,” he said.

“It’s kind of late,” she said, “and it’s a little weird with him lying right there.”

“Hey, if you’re going to wear this dress, you better have the right shoes.  How about this,” he paused.  “Monday, when he’s at work and the kids are in school, we go to the mall and get some shoes.”

“You want to do that?”

“Of course,” he chirped.  “About noon, we won’t have to worry about sleeping Steve or kids or anything.  I’ll drive.  What time?”

“Eleven?”

“Great.  Eleven.”  He approached her for a hug.  She hesitated, but she went along with it.  She noticed that in her bare feet, she wasn’t as tall as she seemed when he spied on her from distances, through windows, or behind curtains.  “And I’m really sorry about him coming home like that.”

“No, really, forget it,” she said.  “I hope he’s got a giant headache tomorrow morning.”  Before letting go of the hug, he tried to make it ever so slightly aware to her how hard he was.  Then she followed him to the door on his way out.

_____________________________

Before Peeek’s tail could stop wagging when Jay got home, his phone rang.  The number on the display was not familiar.

“Hello.”

“Jay?  It’s Carrie.  Sorry to bother you so soon after you left.”

“No big deal.  Something wrong?  Steve okay?”

“No, we’re all fine,” she said.  “About the shoe shopping thing, Monday’s not going to work for me.  There’s something I forgot about.”

“Okay, maybe Tuesday instead?” he tried.

“Maybe Tuesday.  I’ll let you know.  But thanks for wanting to help.  It’s really nice of you.”

“No problem.  Seriously, I am thrilled to help,” Jay said, eyes tight, hitting himself in the head.  “You let me know when, and I’ll be ready.  And if something goes wrong with Steve during the night, don’t hesitate to call me.”

“Okay.  Good night.”

“Good night.”  He double checked that the call had ended, then he saved the number in his contacts under the name “Carrie Cell.”

“You fucking idiot!” Jay yelled at himself, enough for Peeek to flinch.  “You worked your way in, you had her feeling good about you, bad about him, and you had to push your stupid dick against her.  You scared her again just like last time.  You and your stupid, fucking penis that you can’t keep in check.”

He walked in circles, paced, slapped at the back of his neck on his way to the freezer where he pulled a bottle of vodka, poured nine ounces, added three ices cubes, then three ounces of cranberry juice, and drank half of it in one gulp.  He squinted and held the glass carefully as a shudder reminded him that he was not fully in control of himself.  Then he added a small sip, offering it as an apology to the vodka, an admission that he wasn’t as tough as he wanted to be.

Jay opened his e-mail and found a message from Annie.

You sent those tickets, didn’t you?  You schemed to get him out of the house Monday night.  That’s brilliant.  Game time is 7.  He’s leaving at 5.  I’ll be on ChatLine at 5:01.  Let me know what you have in mind.

Jay searched for a folder hidden deep in his computer’s filing cabinet, opened a folder labeled “Me,” and attached a picture of his very erect self to the e-mail back to Annie.

This is what I have in mind.

He found a picture of a woman from a few years ago.  She was on her knees in front of him.  He had a fistful of her hair.  As he looked at it, he remembered how her teeth had scraped him while he invaded her mouth.  He sent that to Annie also.  He found and sent another of the same woman, blindfolded, hands tied behind her back, face down on the bed, ass in the air and slightly reddened.  Then he found one more of the same woman.  In the last picture, her state of consciousness was not detectable, but it reminded Jay of what happens when you slip too much of something in someone’s drink.

He finished the rest of his vodka and cranberry, then he mixed another and poured it into a travel mug.  He changed his pants from jeans to loose-fitting shorts, sneakers, and a black t-shirt.  He put a straw in the vodka-filled travel mug and found his car keys.

Roughly a half hour later he parked outside of a small building on a distant highway.  The dimly lit sign said, “Adult Books – Private Booths.”  He and his travel mug went in at about half past midnight.  Without the travel mug, he came out about two hours later, after half a dozen anonymous men used him in the same way he had used the woman in the pictures he had sent to Annie, her co-worker, and many others over the past ten years.

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Question 1:  It might not be 100% clear, but what happened in the garage with Jay and Lilly was not real.  It was Jay and Annie in a sexual “role play” session in their online chat.  I am sure it was not clear at the end of that chapter (12) but was it clear here in 13 with what Annie had to say about it?

Question 2:  Do you see Jay’s behavior at the very end of the chapter as something he did for his own physical pleasure or to punish himself?

There needs to be a proper, but not even, ratio of creepy and redeeming, and I know that creepy needs to be the majority.  From this point on, there will be less good and more bad.  Because there must.

Two questions at the end.  I hope I haven’t lost you yet.  If you’re still here, then I still have a chance to keep you.  If you’re gone, then you aren’t likely to see this, so it doesn’t matter.

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Chapter 10

When David took the mound, Jay was already at the top of the bleachers on the first base line.  Halfway down were Carl and Jenn, he will a hat to keep the sun off his shaved head and she with a bikini top and cut-off shorts that a poll among the spectators likely would have suggested she was inappropriately dressed for a Little League baseball game.  Walt and Betty, who Jay later learned preferred to have a few cigarettes and keep a cooler beneath him, set up lawn chairs in the shade of a tree down the right field line.  Carrie, without Steve, was next to Jay at the top of the bleachers.

“It’s too bad Steve is going to miss this game,” Carrie said.  “Last year was David’s best with seven wins, and he’s so excited about having nine and going for ten.”

“Go get ‘em, David!” Carl yelled.

“You can do it, David!” Jenn followed.

“Is he at the gym again?” Jay asked.

“You would think so,” Carrie said, “but he’s got a meeting.”

“Meeting?  For what?”

“There’s a spring football meeting where he evaluates kids for next year.  Sets up rosters.  Schedules summer practices.  Picks captains.  Just happened to be tonight.”  She folded her arms across her chest and tightened her lips a few seconds, then sustained an exhale.

“Sometimes things come up,” Jay explained.  “I’m sure he set that up months ago, and there’s no way he could have known.”

“I know, but he could have maybe tried to change it.  He didn’t even try.”

Jay looked down the street but saw nobody.

When he turned back again, Carrie was standing on the bleachers, her knees at about eye-height to Jay, and she clapped as David finished his warm-up pitches and the first batter stepped to the plate.  Jay glanced up to catch a flash of white cotton beneath a khaki skirt.  Looking down so as not to get caught looking up her skirt, his eyes focused on her black flip-flops, and he thought about the first day he saw her when one fell off, causing her to run barefoot to catch up to her husband.  He kicked himself for not bringing his camera.

He reclined on his elbows a little more, thus lowering his eyes and creating a better angle up her skirt.  He then looked at himself, his own shorts, and watched and the fabric moved because inside his shorts, he was moving, growing, tightening, stiffening.  It was aimed sideways and right toward Carrie, and he like it.  Encouraged it.

A sharp yell and stomping feet jolted him.  “Woohoo!” Carried let loose after David began the game with a strikeout.  It snapped Jay’s attention towards her, and again he caught himself looking up her skirt.  And when she jumped, and the skirt flared a bit, the view was even greater.

“Hey!” Carl said from a few rows down.  “Nice going with the curve ball.”

Jay smiled, now more aware of his surroundings, and said, “He had it in him.  Just needed someone to show him how to use it.”

“Good job, Jay,” Jenn chimed in.  “Good job.”

It was then that Jay noticed her, leaning sideways, and more breast hanging from the side of the bikini top.

Jay turned again to see if Steve was coming, but something else was coming instead.  The rumbling, like had come when he was in Carrie’s backyard, peeking at her as her hand worked beneath the blanket, as Steve’s tongue worked beneath the blanket, and as Jay imagined he would have worked beneath the blanket.  The rumbling grew to a roar, a thunderous herd of elephants, trunks and feet blaring, somewhere behind the thick trees that ran parallel to Woodbury Avenue but a little more than a block south.

Jay watched everyone else, the parents, the kids, the grandparents, and wondered why nobody else seemed to care that such a churning monster was that close, just a homerun away from a pleasant, late-afternoon baseball game.

He heard what sounded like Carrie but couldn’t hear her above the train.

“What?” Jay tried.

“How did you get him to throw like that?” she tried again while taking a seat next to Jay.

“Just a wrist motion,” he said.  “One of those things that almost anyone can do with enough practice and desire.  You just have to want something bad enough.”

“Yeah,” Carried said.  “Want something bad enough, you can usually get it.”

“Do me a favor,” she said.  “Next time I’m standing on the bleachers, remind me to sit down so everyone can’t see up my skirt.

“You could have at least worn underwear,” Jay teased, earning him a smack on the shoulder.

“You wish I wasn’t wearing underwear,” Carrie semi-whispered, bringing a glance from Jenn.

“I wish I brought my camera.”

“Cell phone has a camera,” Carrie added.

“Good point.”  He found his camera app.

“Put that away,” she whispered, not as softly.  “You. Are. Bad,” she gritted, again touching his shoulder, but with more of a caress than a smack.

As the game progressed and David’s strikeouts added up, Carrie continued to cheer, Jenn continued to bounce in her skimpy top, and Carl threw Jay a few high-fives.  Even Walt stood from his chair, crushed a few beer cans, and clapped as loudly as anyone.  Assorted parents were throwing thumbs up Carrie’s way.  Jay imagined those parents were wondering who he was and why Carrie was sitting with him, and he imagined they would talk, especially the women, wondering what was so special about him.  And they might want to know more, especially the women who were tired of their boring husbands who worked late and didn’t pay enough attention to them.

After another strikeout by David, a record for him at nine in one game, Carrie again jumped and cheered.  Again, Jay looked up.  “Thank you,” he said, getting a nudge from Carrie’s bare foot this time.  It wasn’t until then that he noticed a small tattoo on the top of her foot.  At first he thought it was a trident, the three-pointed spear carried by Triton and Poseidon.  Then he realized it was not a trident but a chicken foot.  He didn’t know why he knew it, but he knew there was a significance to it and that it was not just a strangely random tattoo.  He noticed that and kept it for later.  He also knew there was a significance to the fact that this time she was still standing.

“What’s going on?” came a voice from behind them.  It was Steve, his dark gray shirt full of sweat except for a few spots of light gray.

Carrie whirled around.  “David is wiping them out!” she squealed.

“Nice,” Steve said before heading from the back of the bleachers around to the front where he made his way up, shaking hands and waving along the way.  It wasn’t until then that Jay realized Steve seems to know everyone and everyone knows him.  Compared to Steve, Jay was a nobody.  He may have been responsible in part for David’s stellar pitching performance, but very few people knew about it, and just as few knew who Jay was.  Although he did not have Steve’s or Carl’s popularity, he reminded himself that – for him – popularity was his enemy.  Anonymity was his friend.

One of the things that Jay missed the most over the past few years was one very special word.  Coach.  All his life it was a word constantly said by him and friends and teammates and other coaches.  When he was playing sports growing up, he knew how special it was to call someone “coach.”  And when it was his turn, and his playing days were over, he knew how special it was to be called “coach.”  He loved how various coaches would call each other “coach.”  It was a special fraternity that you couldn’t simply join but had to earn your way in.  Now, at least with David, he felt close to being “coach” again.  Close, but he would have to accept that for now.

Carl turned to Steve, Carrie, and Jay.  “Did you notice he’s got a no-hitter going?”

Jay looked out at the scoreboard and saw 0 runs, 0 hits, and 1 error, that being a throwing goof when the third baseman bounced one to first base.  He kicked himself for not noticing, but then again, when two of the most luscious legs he had ever seen were standing next to him, and she seemed to be intentionally letting him see up her skirt, it didn’t seem much of a surprise that he hadn’t totally zeroed in on the game.

“You think it’s because he’s throwing a curve?” Steve asked.

“I don’t know,” Carrie said.

“Definitely,” Carl said.

“Whatever it is,” Jenn said, untying and re-tying the neck string on her bikini, “he’s kicking ass.”

Jay noticed that since Steve’s arrival, Carrie had been more subdued.  She cheered less, but more importantly she stayed seated and kept her hands and feet to herself instead of touching Jay.  Initially, it bothered Jay, until he found a better interpretation.

If she’s acting differently, it’s because of him.  She wants to touch me and tease me.  She wants to show herself off, but she can’t with him here.  If she were still doing those things with him here, that would mean she didn’t think of it as wrong.  But she stopped because she knows it’s wrong, and she knows he won’t like it.  That’s a good thing.

Jay felt his pocket buzzing.  He had an e-mail from Annie.  Forget about me?

No, he answered.

A few minutes later.  Maybe you should come say hi.

Not now, he answered.

Afraid?

Jay looked behind him down the street to see if she might really know who and where he was.  He saw Rob outside mowing the lawn, keeping it as perfect as always.

Will get back to you later.

Won’t have time later.  Alone now.

Send me a picture.

As he waited, David began the seventh and last inning of an eleven-strikeout shutout, still a no-hitter.  The first batter grounded out to second base.

Jay’s phone buzzed.  Before he could check the mail, he was interrupted.

“Hey,” Carrie said, “text your girlfriend later.  David’s got one out in the seventh.”

“No,” Jay said.  “N-not my girlfriend.  I don’t have a girlfriend.”

“Then stop texting your boyfriend,” she teased.

“I don’t have a boyfriend,” he said, with a little added strength.  “I’m not gay.”

“Hey, sorry,” Carrie said.  “I was just kidding.  Watch the game.”

His phone buzzed again, and it was torturous not to answer or at least read it.  Fly ball to left field was the second out.

“One more to go!” Carrie yelled, now daring for a brief second to touch Jay’s shoulder again.  “C’mon David!”

Carrie, Steve, and everyone else stood, clapped, and yelled.  Jay stood next to Carrie and Steve.  Carl and Jenn stood below them, jumping and waving.  Jenn turned and waved at Jay, her breasts bouncing in her too-small top.

“Hey,” whispered Carrie, “stop looking at her.”  To Jay, it was yet another sign that she had feelings for him, jealousy that he might be looking at someone other than herself.

David had one batter between him and a no-hitter as well as his record tenth win in one season.  His phone again buzzed in his pocket, and again it pained him to be unable to read it.  The claps and cheers grew.  The foot stomps on the bleachers rolled and roared like tumbling bricks.  The vibrations of the stomps met those of the phone in his pocket met the extra pats on the back from Carrie met the jiggling top of Jenn.

Then it all disappeared.  Whether it was the first time David went all seven innings, the pressure of the moment, or just the good eye of that particular batter, a ground ball crept between third and short before rolling into left field for a clean hit.  As if the volume button was turned down, the crowd hushed to almost nothing except a handful of groans and grumps.

No! Jay thought.  You’re all wrong.

The next batter popped up to first base on the first pitch, the game was over, and David had never gotten such a reception from his teammates and coaches.  As for the crowd, then were nothing less than let down.

You’re wrong.  He did great.  Forget the no-hitter.  He threw a fabulous game.  Don’t be let down.  He needs you to pick him up.  Best game he ever fucking pitched, and you’re all sad that he gave up one little hit.  Who cares?  Celebrate him!  Enjoy him!  Give him his moment!  Don’t take it away!

Jay looked at the long faces and knew that they weren’t only taking joy from David but from him as well.  All the flirting, the touching, the teasing, the upskirt peeking, and the slightly jealous words from Carrie were all gone with the no-hitter that disappeared on a ground ball in the hole.  He no longer cared as much about David as he did about how far he seemed to have gotten into the fingers and toes and white panties of Carrie.

Hands were softly shaken and backs gently patted all around the bleachers than they would have been if either one of the infielders had come up with the ball.  That was the bleachers, but on the field they only cared about the win, which they got, and it secured their spot in the playoffs, all thanks to David, and some thanks to Jay as well.

Jay walked over to the fence near the dugout and stood where he could see most of the players.  Eventually, while listening to the coach’s speech, David wandered to where Jay could see him.  Jay waved, caught David’s eye, and he waved back with an added smile.  The coach was passing around a ball for each player to sign, then it was given to David.  Jay left for home.

As he passed Rob and Annie’s house, he remembered to check his e-mail.  He saw pictures that he did not expect.  A leopard print bra.  Hands pushing breasts together to exaggerate cleavage.  A tongue licking a finger.  A hand on each ass cheek.  He stepped a little more quickly to get to his computer.

____________________________

Just as he had received, Jay also gave.  After e-mailing half a dozen revealing and graphic pictures back to Annie, he was in the middle of reviewing her pictures very carefully while his pants were at his knees.  He was only a few seconds from finishing when there came a pounding on his front door.  He pulled his pants up quickly, fixed his awareness, and made it to the door just as Steve was walking away.  Carrie, however, was still on the steps.

“Hey,” she said, “we’re all going to Carl’s bar to celebrate the game.  You wanna come with us?”

“Yeah,” Jay said.  “You going now?”  He traded waves with Steve who was finding his car keys.  “Because I need a few minutes.”

“Yeah, leaving now.  Just drive your own car and meet us there.  You know where it is?”

“Yeah,” Jay said.  “Yeah, I’ve been there a few times.  I’ll just drive myself and meet you there.”

“Great,” Carrie said, taking a step away before turning back to Jay at the door.  She spoke softly.  “Oh, pervert, just try to pull that zipper up before you get there.”  She quickly stepped away as he stood dumbfounded.

He closed the door but immediately shifted over to a window where he could watch her, unseen through a curtain.  When they were gone, he sat again at his computer and found another e-mail from Annie.

Forgot about me again?  What took you so long?  Aren’t you going to send me something to look at?

He replied.  I will, but I have to go somewhere.  Will reply more when I get there.  Only ten minutes away.  Give me ten and we’ll talk more.

He washed up and change, then checked his e-mail once more.

Ok, but don’t make me wait too long.

He logged off, closed his laptop, let the dog out in the backyard to pee, and then headed out the front door.  As he started to back out of the driveway, he quickly stopped because someone was walking by.  He turned to see Annie and Rob walking their dog.

Rob, as before, kept his Phillies hat pulled low.  Annie kept her eyes down, but now she was holding the leash and he was smoking a cigarette.  After they passed, Jay pulled into the street and drove past them.  He tried to make eye contact with her, but it didn’t happen.  He turned the corner and headed for Carl’s bar.

At the first red light, he brought up his e-mail in his phone and sent a note to Annie.

Were you e-mailing when your husband was home?  That’s not very smart.  We will talk about that.

Jay continued to the bar, parked, and entered.  It didn’t take long to spot the loudest table where David was still in uniform and the smiling center of attention as he deserved.  Jay stayed at a distance at first, watching the boy’s moment as well as his own.  It had been a long time since he had people he could consider to be friends.  In a relatively short time, he had been invited to dinner, a barbeque, and baseball games.  He helped a kid win the approval of what seemed like a hands-off kind of father, and he seemed to have won his own approval from the mother.  He had a bartender and neighbor picking up his bar tab.

But he also had other things, like suggestive flirting with a married woman, a stolen key to the home of people who seemed to like him, an e-mail relationship that was turning sexual with a woman married to a man with violent potential, and a computer full of rape scene pictures and video.  He knew that both could not exist, and he would have to make a choice.  Or, the choice might eventually be made for him, just like the last time his self control decreased as his actions increased.

He looked at his reflection in the mirror behind the bar.

Something needs to be done.

He started forward, but before he could reach the table, Carl waved him over to the bar and leaned close.

“She’s here,” Carl said.

“Who?” Jay asked.

“That blonde.”

“What blonde?”

“From a couple of weeks ago.  You were in here about six or six-thirty.  Some blonde was talking to you, and then you left together.  Just giving you a heads up because she’s with her husband.”

___________________________

Question 1:  I had trouble ending this chapter.  There were another 350 words that I eventually cut because the chapter wanted to keep going, and I wanted to let it go out of curiosity, but it wasn’t going where I wanted it to go.  Did anything seem awkward about the ending?

Question 2:  I don’t like to deviate from my plan, but it happened in this chapter.  I had originally intended Carrie to be very much the “librarian” and “Miss Manners” type.  However, during this chapter, something told me that she needed to loosen up a little.  It will have to change the future of what I was going to write, but I am okay with that too because I know where to take it.  What do you think?  How did you envision her?  More of a”goody two-shoes” woman or able to flirt a little bit like most of us?  Does it matter to you at all as long as it works out well in the end?