A Fool Stumbles Into Love Ch. 04

Cal didn't feel like being called a sheep, but he didn't want to hurt her feelings, besides he liked it when she bossed him around, she didn't do it much, but she was good at it, "OK, so you've got a sheep."

Maureen was a little frustrated with Cal, "I didn't mean it quite like that. I meant, well, never mind."

By then Cal had passed through his 'let's argue' phase. He didn't like disagreeing with her; he much preferred waiting on her, "Once when I was in high school and I still had mad spells about my mom, how people treated her and all. My grandfather sat me down with a deck of cards. He took one card out and gave me the rest. I remember he said, 'you're playing with a short deck.' I didn't get it till he handed me the card he'd taken out. It was the queen of hearts. I remember him saying, you find her, you'll be all right.'"

Cal looked at Maureen, "He's a smart old bird."

Maureen responded, "I like him." She also especially liked the idea it had been the queen of hearts.

Cal looked down at her. She was a lot lower because she was on her butt. He was a lot bigger and taller anyway, and that made him feel good, not superior good, protective good. He looked at her and said, "Baa baa."

Maureen teased, "OK, we've seen the cemetery, now what?"

Cal made a face, "Oh, you're so insensitive."

She punched him in the stomach, "Come on, I'm hungry."

He made as if to get up, but she wouldn't let him. She said, "Well! OK, where's my chicken?"

He looked at her a little confused.

She was still teasing, "You made Sandy chicken."

He laughed, Maureen must have known about the Sandy trip to the cemetery all along, He said, "And she didn't like it. Come on I'm taking you to the Olive Garden. I want some lasagna."

Maureen let Cal help her up, as she stood she said, "Cool."

As he led her back to the boat Cal started to think about what Maureen had said. What if there was some purpose to his life? What if there was something bigger he was supposed to do? If there was he'd better get on it. Heck, he was already twenty-six. Then he chuckled to himself.

Maureen heard him, "What was that?"

He answered, "You said God put each of us here for a purpose. I figured out what mine is."

She didn't know if he was kidding or was serious, "Really, what?"

He laughed, "I'm supposed to build you a gazebo."

She laughed then too, "It better be good; cause God and I are sharing notes, and I'm taking names."

They got back in the boat. He helped her in, got the thing back in the water, and chugged back to the put in.

They got back to the put in quickly; he and she got the boat back on the trailer, they went first to his house to pick up some clothes, then back to Maureen's to get ready for dinner. They were both dead on their feet, but the Olive Graden was the next thing on the agenda, and that was that.

Maureen sat comfortably beside Cal in his grandfather's truck. Already it had been a long day. As they drove back and forth from house to house she thought about the coming evening. She didn't mind that they were going out. It would be OK even if they were too tired later to take advantage of the empty house. They could still cuddle and kiss. Of course, she was looking forward to sex in an offhand way, but sex had never been a central part of her life. She almost never touched herself down there, not that way. Maybe once in a while, but as a rule she thought it was silly and just a little bit wrong, not that it didn't feel good sometimes.

Cal was thinking too. If he'd known what Maureen was thinking about regarding the sex he would have agreed. He wanted it to be right, perfect. By right his idea was relaxed, slow, and pain free. He'd read where a girl's first time wasn't always pleasant. True Maureen wasn't a virgin, but it would be her first time with him, and his first time altogether. He didn't care if he had fun, but he wanted things perfect for her. He wanted her to think about their first time together and have only the most wonderful thoughts and memories. If that meant waiting a day or two, that was OK; this was something that shouldn't be rushed.

He thought about the 'purpose thing' too. Maybe he wasn't going to be the next Bill Gates or Steven Hawking, but he wasn't Clyde Barrow either, at least he didn't think so. Maybe his purpose was to take care of the girl riding beside him. Sure she could pretend to be the shepherd if she wanted to, but he'd be the real protector. He already had a kind of embryonic plan in his mind; they'd get married, make kids together, and be a family.

He'd seen other kids growing up who had to eat dinner with their parents and brothers and sisters. He recalled when he was little sitting in other people's living rooms while they all ate together. He remembered fathers asking questions like; what did you do in school today, do you have any homework, don't forget we're going to grandma's tomorrow. He'd almost joined the Boy Scouts once; but they had a father and son dinner. He went, but ate alone. He quit right after that.

He remembered reading a survey where they asked people what was the most rewarding thing they ever did; the winner, hands down, was raising kids. He wanted to do that. He thought, with Maureen that could be a pretty good thing.

He watched her out of the corner of his eye as she sat beside him in the truck. She was so pretty, she was so nice, and so much fun to be with. She was going to make some beautiful babies with someone; that someone he hoped was him.

He remembered that hackneyed old saying, 'for every man there's one woman, and for every woman one man.' He looked at Maureen again. He believed that.

He kept these things to himself. He knew he needed to marry her, but she still might change her mind. He didn't think so; it would break his heart is she did, but she'd said it, 'you can't make people do what you want them to do.' Still, he was twenty-six and she was twenty-four, they were both the right age for it.

Maureen had noticed the sideways looks, she looked up, "Penny for your thoughts."

He grinned, "You have the most beautiful green eyes."

Maureen ignored the comment. She turned her head. She was blushing.

They got back to Maureen's parents. She used the downstairs bathroom and her bedroom to get ready. She made Cal go upstairs; by 6:00 they both up to speed.

Cal had on a pair of dark pleated slacks, the black casual shoes she liked so much, black socks, and a blue button down shirt. Maureen thought he looked very masculine, and told him so.

Maureen was wearing a white button up blouse with a peter pan collar she'd kept opened at the top. She'd picked out a light green pleated mini skirt, dark green stockings, dark brown high heels, and a matching light green V-necked pull over sweater. He thought she looked especially feminine, and he told her too.

Since it was Tuesday night they didn't expect the Olive Garden to be too crowded. They were wrong, but the wait didn't turn out as bad as it could have been.

They were seated in a booth. The people in the next booth were a little loud, and kept talking politics. Maureen could tell by their rants and raves they were not only on the stupid side, but they were deliberately trying to get everybody to hear them. Cal wasn't the political type, at least he hadn't evinced any opinions to Maureen, but he resented the noise. He told Maureen people ought to keep their voices at a lower octave when in public.

Maureen agreed citing that people didn't go out to eat in order to hear everybody else spout their feelings. She told Cal she used the word feelings when referring to the big mouths behind them, since a feeling required no thought, no facts, and no intelligence. She deliberately said these things loud enough so they could hear. They did, but it didn't seem to matter.

Cal and Maureen both ordered lasagna, a glass of red wine, and the house salad. The waitress was a pretty girl, maybe nineteen or twenty. Maureen told Cal she thought the girl was flirting, but Cal said he thought she was just being nice. Maureen disagreed. Cal said she was jealous. Maureen told him to shut up. He shut up, but he still laughed about it. Maureen didn't laugh.

Their food came and it went down smoothly. They avoided conversation while they ate. Maureen didn't talk because she was hungry. Cal kept quiet because he was afraid he might talk with food in his mouth, or he might inadvertently spit. Both were considered bad manners, and he wanted her to be proud of him.

They each got a coffee when they finished their meals; then they started to talk. To Cal it seemed like coffee had become the official time for gabbing.

He started off. He'd been thinking about the 'not making people do what you want' thing. He said, "Summer's almost over."

Maureen answered, "Yeah, pretty close."

He asked, maybe pushing a little bit, "You going back to that college and that karate school after Labor Day?"

She didn't look up, but she was glad he'd brought that subject up. She played it close to the vest, "Probably, why shouldn't I?"

Cal hemmed and hawed a little. He fiddled with his napkin, dropping it on the floor and picking it back up. Then he got out what he wanted to say, "I thought maybe you'd hang around a little while."

Maureen was coy. "Why," she asked?

He stirred his coffee, pretended to drink some. He added a packet of sugar, something he never normally did. He tried to be casual, but it wasn't coming out that way, "I don't know. I just thought. I thought that..."

She interrupted, "Thought what?" She acted and tried to sound incredulous, "You thought I'd hang around here with you?"

That had hurt. He pretended to drink some more of his coffee. He wondered if he was wrong about her after all. He tried to pick it up, "I thought..."

She interrupted again, "You thought what? You thought maybe I'd hang around just to be with you? You thought I might stay because I loved you. You thought I might hang around and we'd stay together. Is that what you thought?"

To Cal those were exactly the things he thought, but she sounded like those were the last things she'd considered. He started to say something, "Well yes. I thought..."

She dropped him again, "I know you. You thought I'd stay, we might move in together, and maybe worse, like get married."

He listened. She sure had him right. He tried to explain, "No I meant. No, yes, I thought. I mean I thought, well yeah, maybe we could get married or something."

Maureen smiled. She'd done it again. Geez, he was slow, "You asking me to marry you?"

He answered, "Yes, I guess I am."

It was like they were playing pool. It was time to close for the kill, "You guess! Guess you might want me to marry you? Well do you or don't you?"

Cal watched her facial expressions, and listened more carefully to the tonal inflections in her speech. Yeah, she was playing with him again, "Maureen will you marry me?"

She sat back on her side of the booth, "No. I can't marry a virgin." She'd said it loud enough so other people nearby might hear. She said it loud deliberately.

He didn't care. He could care less what people heard or thought. He turned up the volume as loud as he could without actually yelling, "Maureen will you deflower me? Please?"

She laughed and kicked him under the table, "I guess I'll have to now."

It was his turn, "Have to what. Marry me or deflower me?"

She sat up. He'd gotten her, "Yes I'll marry you Cal, and yes we'll sleep together too."

He looked around at the young waitress who'd been standing by listening to everything, "Check please."

The waitress handed him the check. He helped Maureen up, picked up the bill, left a hefty gratuity, and escorted Maureen out of the restaurant.

Maureen told him, "You didn't have to leave that much you know."

Cal answered, "Yes I did."

She asked, "Really? Why?"

"I want her to remember the night she heard a man ask a woman to help him lose his cherry."

Maureen hugged him as they stepped on the street,

"You're a rascal, a real rascal."

He smiled.

They got in the truck, but Maureen wasn't quite ready to go home yet. She insisted they stop at the mall. She had to make a few purchases. He waited in the truck while she went inside. She was gone about thirty minutes, and came out with two shopping bags.

He asked, "What did you get?"

She answered, "Just some stuff."

He asked, "What kind of stuff?"

She replied, "Cleaning stuff."

He said, "OK."

They went on back to Maureen's parents. Both were tired, but both understood, tired or not, something important had to happen that night.

Maureen got Cal to go upstairs to do any tidying he needed to do. She said she wanted to straighten her bedroom before she invited him in. He agreed.

She got in her room and opened the first shopping bag. She'd bought satin sheets and pillow cases. She stripped the bed and redid it. The satin felt slippery.

She noticed her mother had left an odd looking envelope on her bed stand. She slipped it in the drawer.

Maureen went to her bathroom. She redid her make up; adding a little more eye shadow, a tad more lip gloss, and a smidgen more mascara.

She took a comb and brushed out her hair. Maureen believed one of her best features was her hair, and she wanted it to look especially good. She combed and re-combed it till it glistened and was shaped the way she wanted; long, loose, and wavy, filtering lustrously around her face and down on her shoulders. Then for effect she added a black silk ribbon to each side; not tied in bows, just tied and twined in her hair. She thought they looked cool, as in cosmopolitan.

She checked her finger and toe nails. They were all set with clear nail polish.

She went to the second shopping bag, and pulled out the negligee she'd bought. It wasn't very long; coming just below the line of her vaginal area in front and butt cheeks in the back. It was black, made of silk with a plunging neckline, capped shoulders, a tight bodice with a broad black strip of satin that held her waist in a tight cinch.

The gown, really a teddy, gave the appearance of buttoning up the back. Where the broad satin cincher wrapped in the back she attached a large black matching satin bow. The bow was huge, incredibly black and shimmery; she thought it was terribly sexy.

The neckline, the hem, and the shoulders were all set out with tiny ruffles that she thought added to it's femininity in profound ways. To add to the imaginative character of the outfit she tied a thin black piece of silk around her neck, but didn't loop it in a bow. She let it hang suggestively; one end down her left clavicle, the other over her should blade. She thought about tying another piece of silk to her left wrist but changed her mind. That might be over doing it.

The outfit came with a pair of reasonably loosely fitting panties. The center front of the panties was transparent, but the areas around her hips and rear were all black silk. A fairly large black bow was affixed to the very front at the waist, and in the back, just above the top of the crease of her rear was a similar bow. Both the waist and the hem of the panties were cut out in the same small ruffles.

She slipped on a pair of stockings that came all the way to the top of her thighs, and finished them with a pair of black high heeled shoes. The tops of the stockings were cut out in lace, and the front of each shoe had a shiny black bow.

She checked the nylons carefully. Cal had never seen her legs when they weren't at least partially covered with something. She did that to keep her awful scars well concealed. She didn't think it would matter, but she didn't want anything to spoil this, their first evening.

She stood up and looked her self over in the mirror. She was trying to be as sexy as she could. She thought she looked pretty good. She wanted to look especially hot, but not cheap. She believed her black hair, the black teddy, nylons and shoes would stand out starkly against the white satin sheets.

One last look in the mirror, one last splashy gargle, a final tiny spurt of perfume; she checked her pussy by looking through the transparent center piece of the panties. It didn't look right. Her vaginal area wasn't right. She'd trimmed it earlier, but now she realized the hair got in the way of the overall effect. She pulled down her panties, got out the razor and cream, and shaved away all the last residual hair. She wiped it off thoroughly with a balm, and pulled her panties back up. There she thought, maybe it was wanton, but the pink clarity of her vagina showed through the transparent material with a sexual insistence, a physical clarity that couldn't be denied.

She justified the nudity of her pubis by telling herself it was for Cal only. Nobody would ever know; nobody else would ever see it.

Finally fully satisfied that she was the best she'd ever looked. She left her bathroom, went over to the side of the bed, and sat down. She called out, "Cal you can come in now."

There wasn't any answer.

She called again, "Cal, I'm ready."

Still no answer.

One last insistent time, "Cal!"

Nothing; only dead silence. She got up and went in the living room. Cal was lying on the sofa, fast asleep. He looked good in a pair of white boxers, and a light blue T-shirt; every bit the man.

Damn, thought Maureen. She went over and picked up the television remote, sat down and gently lifted his head so that it rested in her lap. She felt his warm breath on her denuded mons. She turned on the television and found an old Johnny Depp movie She looked at Johnny Depp on the screen; then down at Cal. She had no idea who Johnny Depp was married to, but she bet if his wife saw Cal tonight she'd be jealous.

She started watching Sleepy Hollow. Cal's face was pressing against her pussy, making her feel damp. She tried desperately stay focused on the movie. Remote in one hand, Cal's head on her lap, her other hand holding his chin to keep him from getting any deeper in her puss, she slowly drifted off to sleep.