At Long Last: Gwen Ch. 03

During the week I finished the initial draft of the text and Gwen and I celebrated with a nice dinner.

Early Friday morning my dean called to say the school definitely wanted to interview Gwen and the dean listed the dates they could accommodate her. When would her schedule allow her to fit into one of the dates ranges he had provided.

Because I had taken the call, I said, "Excuse me, Charlie. I haven't yet heard anything about the funding for her trip."

Gwen nearly fainted and was waving her hands violently for me to drop the topic.

Charlie yelled, "For God's sake, Will, this is for a lectureship. This isn't for a tenured position or top research position. There is no travel money for a position such as this."

My response was, "Look Charlie, I know my memory isn't what it was and I know yours isn't either, so why don't you ask your finance lady just how much that last grant I landed made for the school?"

"Damn you, Will. Do you always have to be a hard ass?"

"Charlie, if you had to spend your life dealing with bandits like yourself, you'd be a hard ass, too."

"All right, fine, Will. We'll pay for the trip, but I can't promise we won't route her through Winnipeg and Pocatello."

"You do that and let me accompany you to Budgetary Affairs to explain a plane ticket via Winnipeg and Pocatello."

"Will, you're a son of a bitch."

"Maybe I am, but Gwen isn't and I'm going to give the phone to her. Treat her nicely."

Gwen gave me one of her patented, 'You are an idiot' looks as she took the phone from me and then said, "Hello, Dean Carlton. I'm really thrilled to have the opportunity to meet with your search committee."

Charlie was still royally ticked and his response was a bit testy. "We're really looking forward to meeting you, too, but only if you leave that jerk you're marrying at home."

Gwen made me so proud. She gave it right back to the dean when she said, "Surely you're not referring to Will. He's such a pussycat."

Charlie burst out laughing and we could hear him muttering, "'A pussycat'. Yeah, right."

They settled on a May visit after Barb was out of school and could make the trip with us.

//

Barb drove to Gwen's on Friday evening so she could accompany us to the airport to meet her Grandpa. Even meeting Grandpa wasn't without drama because he didn't want to meet us at the baggage claim because he wasn't checking any baggage. No matter how Gwen explained it, Grandpa did not want to meet us at baggage claim.

Finally, completely exasperated, Gwen said, "You'll meet us at baggage claim or you'll spend the weekend in the airport and that's the last we're going to hear of it."

Miracle of miracles, Gwen's dad did show up at the baggage claim. He was a bandy-legged, small old guy who just looked pugnacious. However, it was rewarding to see his face light up when he saw Gwen and Barb. After much hugging and kissing, Gwen introduced me to her dad.

Her dad looked at me incredulously and muttered, "Will David!?"

Gwen, Barb, and I all looked strangely at him and he stared at me wordlessly. Finally, he broke into a grin and said, "Yes, you're the same Will David I watched play basketball years ago."

He turned to Gwen and Barb and said, "This guy had the sweetest jump shot this side of heaven. He could elevate, then the stroke, then the wrist snap, and that ball went through the hoop. Oh, Gwen, this guy could shoot out the lights."

Then he whirled to face and he stuck out his chin and yelled, "But you couldn't rebound for shit!!"

I thought Barb would have a stroke. Instead she yelled, "Grandpa! Your language!"

The old guy turned to Gwen and asked, "What I say?"

Gwen said, "You just yelled 'shit'loud enough to be heard three concourses away."

Grandpa turned to Barb and said, "Sorry, Sweetheart."

Then he turned to me and yelled, "And, you played defense like a pussy!!"

I think Barb was trying to yell 'Grandpa,' but something like 'Grawpawwk' came out of her mouth. Gwen grabbed her dad and shook him and said, "Dad, now that's enough! Stop it!"

The old guy was mystified. "What I say?" he implored of all of us.

Gwen said, "Your language is awful. Now, calm down and speak softly without swearing and using foul words."

Her dad looked askance at Gwen and said, "I won't be able to speak all weekend."

Barb injected, "That, Grandpa, would be an improvement."

Properly chastised, Gwen's dad used a conversational tone to ask me, "Hey, why didn't you go pro?"

"I couldn't rebound for shit" was my response.

The old guy turned to Barb and Gwen and said, "See, I told you. Does this old man know his basketball or what?"

We left the airport and walked to the car. As we reached the car the old guy told me, "Did you know that I worked in the steel mills in Pittsburgh, Wheeling and Youngstown when I was younger?"

"No wonder they closed," was my response.

"Hey!" the old man said, delightedly. "This guy has a sense of humor."

In the car he said, "You know, you don't look like a Commie."

"No, I don't. They send us to Communist school and train us to look like Republicans," was my response.

This time both Gwen and Barb together said, "Will!"

The old guy never even heard them. "Why did you become a liberal?" he asked.

"I didn't know I was a liberal."

"Sure you are! You're parking your pickle in my daughter and you're not married to her."

There were some very strange sounds coming from the back seat and I asked, "Barb, did you just throw up in the car?"

"I'm about to, but I haven't yet," was Barb's response.

"Good. Hang tough, Barb. Well, Pops, they taught us in Communist School that Republicans don't have pickles, so I'm careful not to park mine anywhere and blow my cover."

I heard Barb saying something that sounded like, "Eeeeuuuwwwwww!"

"What a load of baloney, that is!" Pops yelled.

"Do you mean Republicans do have pickles? Why are they so angry all the time, then?"

Gwen's Dad yelled, "We are not angry all the time, dammit!"

I distinctly heard a pleading tone to Gwen's voice as she said, "Will, please stop."

I said, "Ok," and slowed the car and pulled off the highway onto the shoulder.

I tuned around to see why Gwen wanted me to pull over and found her glaring at me and yelling, "No, you idiot. I didn't mean the car. I meant I want you to stop baiting my Dad."

Her Dad yelled, "What, what? Who's baiting me?"

Gwen said, with a distinct overtone of exasperation in her voice, "Dad, Will is just teasing. He really is not a Commie or a liberal or anything else like that. He's just playing with you."

"Really?" Pops asked me.

"I'm afraid so, Pops."

"Damn, I was really enjoying whipping your ass in that argument."

"Yeah, I think that's why Gwen made us stop."

Gwen asked, "Are you hungry, Dad? Do you want to stop for something to eat?"

"Sure! I'm hungry."

Gwen asked, "Where would you like to eat?"

"IHOP! That's my favorite restaurant."

Accordingly, we found an IHOP and Gwen's dad ate to his heart's content. After eating we went home and he was amazed to find five cats. More amazing was that the five cats were interested in him. Fluffy, one of Gwen's cats virtually adopted the old guy and parked herself on his lap. The old man was simply ecstatic. We soon discovered that we really didn't have to entertain the old guy at all. He played with the cats, watched television, looked at our books and asked questions. It was actually fun dealing with him unless something remotely political intruded into the conversation. Then, he tended to go bat-shit crazy, but we learned pretty quickly to steer the conversation away from topics that triggered his outbursts.

Gwen's dad tired early and he happily toddled off to bed. We had all noted that his clothes fit him too loosely and I gave Barb some money and asked her to take him shopping on Sunday to get some shirts and pants that fit him. Barb said she would.

On Sunday morning Gwen's dad was beside himself with joy because two of the cats had slept with him. Things got a bit sticky, however, when he asked if his grandson, Charles, would be visiting. Gwen explained, again, as simply as she could, that Charles was having emotional problems and he was hospitalized for them.

Again, this did not really compute for the old guy and he asked, "Is Charles in a loony bin?"

Barb concocted an interesting answer to his question by explaining that the 'loony bin' was reserved for people on the top two floors of the hospital and Charlie was only on the ground floor where people were helping him understand why he was so angry with, and mean to, people."

Interestingly, Barb's explanation satisfied her grandpa.

We did take him to church and that experience resulted in an amazing episode.

For reasons we couldn't discern, Gwen's dad was transfixed with the minister. In fact, he never took his eyes off the minister and listened intently to the sermon with an attention span that Gwen later indicated she did not think her dad still possessed.

As we departed church and approached the minister who was greeting and shaking everyone's hand, Gwen whispered to her Dad, "Don't swear at the minister." Happily, the old man did not.

We went to lunch and the old guy was strangely silent. We sat and ordered and I could tell that both Gwen and Barb were tense waiting for what they considered to be an inevitable rant about liberals in the pulpit.

After we were served, the old guy looked at me and said, "What do you think about that minister?"

I said, "I think he's a smart guy and he's well educated."

Gwen's dad nodded and said, "I think so."

Barb expelled a sigh of relief and Gwen looked heavenward and said, "Thank you, God."

Then, the old man just blew us away as he talked about the sermon during which the minister, by explaining how the original Greek words in this morning's Scripture, changed the meaning of the verses and how much clearer the writer's intent became when the contemporary meaning of the English words were set aside and were replaced with the meaning affixed to Greek words in the first century.

It was clear that the old man was enthralled with what he'd learned that morning. He wanted to know where someone could learn that and Gwen explained that it could be learned in college, but more likely in a divinity school or seminary.

For the first time in his life, the old guy asked Gwen what she taught. Gwen explained that, right now, she taught mostly statistics and her dad asked if that was like baseball averages. Gwen indicated that some of baseball's numerical indices were statistics, but she also explained how statistics were used in marketing, in production, in finance, in medicine, in psychology, in schools and so forth.

The old guy didn't forget to eat, but he ate a lot slower this afternoon than he had last evening. He was intent: he had focus. He also elicited a lot of smiles from us when he announced, "You guys are fun. You don't just bitch about things. You do stuff."

After lunch Barb took Grandpa to buy some pants and shirts and maybe a jacket and they returned from Wal-Mart with clothes that really fit. The old guy was amazed and he proudly pointed out that Barb was so smart that she took him to the Boys' clothing section instead of the Men's and that was why his clothes fit properly. He was tickled. Then he proudly held up the Wal-Mart bag and said, "Sam Wall -- a real American. If you want to buy American, go to Sam Wall's."

I laughed and was ready to ask him to check the labels when both Barb and Gwen yelled, "Willlll!"

I looked at Barb and said, "You're even starting to sound like your mother."

Pops played with the cats for a while and then announced that it was time for his flight home so we bundled him into the car and took him to the airport. We took him inside to the security area and watched him assault the area like it was beach landing. He managed to get into an argument with every security officer he encountered and the last we heard of him was a shouted, "Commie bastard!"

Gwen and Barb collapsed into each other's arms in relief.

I, myself, just let out a huge sigh and said nothing. Gwen looked at me and asked, "Is something wrong?"

"No," I smiled, "I was just comparing my life pre and post-you. Before you I led a well-ordered, restrained, predictable, quiet life and since you, everything in life is an adventure."

Gwen's response was, "Old Man, you needed a little spice in your life."

My response was, "I wonder what you consider a lot."

Gwen grabbed one hand and Barb the other and we marched out of the airport to the car. On the way, Barb said, "Will, you're a neat old guy. It's a shame you couldn't rebound."

Gwen laughed. I didn't.

When we got home Barb announced that she was staying the night and would miss her Monday morning classes. Gwen quickly disabused Barb of that idea and a grumbling Barb packed her things and headed back to college.

I said that I had to unwind and would watch the Celtics and Heat game. Gwen said she'd join me. Warning bells started jangling in my head because Gwen cared as much about basketball as I did about the mating habits of the Gila monster.

Sprawled on the couch I turned on the TV and settled back. Gwen lay on her tummy with her head on my thigh. Give her credit, she did watch for at least three minutes before she unzipped my fly and started rooting around saying "Ivan? Ivan? Come out, come out, wherever you are."

I impassively watched the game.

Gwen exclaimed, "There you are, you bad boy. Oh my, what a big boy you are."

I impassively watched the game.

Next, I felt a very warm and wet mouth close around my cock followed by a gentle sucking.

I, none too impassively, continued to watch the game.

When Gwen had me fully erect, she said to Ivan, "Be a good boy and I'll be right back."

As I watched the game I could see her peripherally removing all her clothes.

Once naked she sidled up to my left side and grasped Ivan and said softly, "This is a good game. You can keep watching and I'll just slip my nipple into your mouth and you can suck every time someone makes a basket."

We did that for a while as I used every ounce of endurance I had not to burst out laughing.

After a few minutes of this Gwen grabbed my left hand and pulled it to her pussy and told me not to take my eyes off the game, but to slide a finger into her little volcano. She grabbed my wrist and started sliding onto and off of my finger saying, "I'm glad this game is giving you a chance to unwind."

Where I found the strength not to burst out laughing I don't know. I do know that my face was contorted into series of grotesque masques as I struggled to look at the TV.

After a few minutes Gwen said, "I know I won't disturb your concentration by sitting on Ivan because you're so tall and I'm so short you can just look over my shoulder and not miss a second of this exciting action."

She then climbed aboard me and positioned Ivan at the entrance of her pussy. She stayed there for a few seconds remarking, "When have you ever seen two such evenly matched teams?"

With that, she rapidly slid down and then up and down and up and down my cock. I erupted into laughter and looked at Gwen who stuck out her tongue at me and said, "You still let me get away with murder, don't you Old Man?"

I had no answer for the little vixen. Or, if I did, it was to wrap my arms around her while she wrapped her hands around my face as she accelerated her piston action on my cock. We stared, in wonder, at each other and then we smiled and kissed.

The kiss triggered the little Princess into action and she pumped faster and faster up and down my cock until we were both groaning. I lost myself in Gwen although I do remember bellowing as I emptied myself into her.

We collapsed. I fell backwards onto the couch back and Gwen fell onto my chest. We decompressed for a long time and I finally spoke: "If you leaked all over this couch, you're going to clean it up."

Gwen giggled and said, "The pretty Princess is simply exhausted and must be carried to her bed. The older gentleman can return and clean the couch."

Groaning, I got up and carried the Princess to the bed, but she diverted me to the potty, first, and then to bed. As I laid her on the bed she whispered, "Hurry back."

I checked the couch and was delighted to discover that the little volcano hadn't erupted onto the fabric so I turned off the TV and prepared for bed. When I got into bed Gwen climbed on top of me and said, "Tomorrow is Monday. I can't wait to see what the new week brings."

My response was, "I certainly can wait."

//

Chapter 4 is dependent upon your feedback.