Family Affairs Ch. 10byD.C. Roi©
Mary awoke the next morning even more confused than she'd been when she went to bed. Matt Williams was still on her mind and that bothered her. She vaguely remembered having some kind of dream about him and, try as she would, she didn't seem to be able to dislodge thoughts of him from her consciousness.
But, on the brighter side, having experienced an orgasm, even if it was self-induced, she was a little less tense than she had been. She stretched and her leg bumped something hard. She reached under the covers and found the dildo. "Best purchase I ever made," she thought. For a second, she had an urge to use it again, but fought it off, got out of bed and put the dildo in a safe place in her lingerie drawer.
A half-hour later, showered and dressed, she walked downstairs. Ricky was already up, lying on the sofa watching Saturday morning cartoons.
"Morning, sleepyhead," he said.
"Morning, Ricky," Mary said. "Want breakfast?"
"Silly question," Ricky replied. He didn't take his eyes from the TV.
"I'll yell when I have it ready," Mary said as she walked into the kitchen. She leaned down to get a frying pan out of the cabinet, and felt her breasts swing free under the sweatshirt she wore. She had decided not to wear a bra and felt a bit naughty about her decision.
Matt got up about the same time Mary did, took a shower, dressed, and went downstairs to find his parents sitting at the breakfast table.
"Good morning," he said.
"Good morning, Matt," they replied. His mother got up and poured him a glass of fresh-squeezed orange juice.
"Uncle Ezra called early this morning," his father said. "Your grandmother is worse. It looks as if she might not live. Your mother and I have to fly to Seattle today."
"You want me to come along?" Matt asked. His grandmother, who had cancer, had been ill for a long time, but recently, things had been getting worse. He knew it wouldn't be long before she died.
His mother shook her head. "Until we know for sure how bad it is," she said, "it's probably better you don't go. If it turns out this is something serious and we have to stay a while, you could miss a lot of school."
"Yeah, and with the basketball playoffs coming up, the school will need their ace photog to record that for posterity," his father added.
"You sure?" Matt asked as he poured some cereal into a bowl and put milk and sugar on it.
"If Grandma gets worse, we'll arrange for you to fly out later," his mother said. "There's nothing you could do out there, anyhow."
"When are you leaving?" Matt asked.
"Our flight leaves at one," his father replied.
"You want me to drive you to the airport?" Matt asked.
"We'll take the Mercedes and leave it in the long-term lot," his dad said. "That way, you won't have to worry about meeting us at the airport when we get back."
"OK," Matt said.
After breakfast, Matt helped his mother with the dishes, then went up to his darkroom and spent the rest of the morning working on a photo series on the athletic and cheerleading squads. He began a collection of pictures of Dianna Hillman similar to the one he had of Mary Forrester.
Matt suddenly realized what he was doing. "This is silly," he thought. "She doesn't give a darn about me. She's interested in Ricky."
About eleven, his mother knocked on the darkroom door and told him they were packed and ready to go. "Don't forget to eat," she told him. "There's plenty of food in the freezer and you know how to cook."
"Yes, ma'am," Matt replied. "Don't mothers ever realize their offspring can take care of themselves?" he wondered.
"And make sure you're careful with the truck," his father added.
"And don't stay up all night working in your lab, either," his mother said. "You have homework and you need your sleep."
He got a kiss and hug from his mother, and a hug from his father, who slipped some money in Matt'ss hand as he was going out the door. "Just in case you need a little extra," his father said.
Matt didn't need the money. He did quite well selling photos and had a nice-sized nest egg in the bank. He could live on his savings for several months.
After his parents left, Matt went back to his darkroom and worked on the photo series a little longer. Then, screwing up his courage, he walked to the phone in his bedroom.
"I ought to call Dianna," he thought. "I really should call her. I mean, I wouldn't want her to think I forgot our date."
He took a deep breath, picked up the phone, and dialed Dianna's number.
"Hello?" Dianna said. Her voice sounded nice.
"Hi, ah, this is Matt," he said. Why was his voice cracking?
"Hi," Dianna replied.
"What do you want to do tonight?" he asked.
"I dunno, what were you thinking about?" she asked.
"Maybe we could get some pizza, then see a movie?" Matt suggested.
"OK," Dianna said.
"What are you doing now?" Matt asked.
"Ah, nothing, really," she said.
"Want to come over here?" Matt suggested hopefully.
"Now?" Dianna asked.
"Sure," Matt said. He couldn't believe he'd been bold enough to invite Dianna to his house when his parents weren't home.
A long silence followed his invitation, and Matt got scared. What if she decided not to come? What if she cancelled their date?
"Sure, I guess so," Dianna said.
"Great!" Matt said. He realized his heart was pounding. "I'll come over and pick you up."
Matt put the phone down and stood there, staring at it. He couldn't believe he really had a date. Not only that, Dianna had agreed to come over to his house. And he was home alone. Maybe he should have told her that.
He went downstairs, got his jacket, and went out to his pickup truck in the garage. He'd talked his father into buying the truck, a brand new Dodge 4 by 4, with big off-road tires mounted on white spoker wheels. It looked big and rugged, and was, but it also had the full luxury treatment inside, including automatic transmission, stereo and tape deck; even air-conditioning.
Matt climbed up into the cab of the truck, pressed the button to open the garage door, and turned the ignition key. The starter whined, the big V-8 roared to life and settled into a rumbling idle. He slid the shift lever into "reverse" and backed out of the garage.
Dianna put on a loose pullover top and pair of snug-fitting stirrup pants. She wasn't sure about her decision to go to Matt's house. After the previous night, she'd been thinking of herself as Ricky's girl. Still, she told herself, Matt was a nice boy, even if most of the kids in school thought he was a little nerdy, and talked about him behind his back.
The doorbell rang. Dianna's mother yelled there was a young man there to see her. Dianna grabbed her coat and headed down the hallway from her bedroom to the living room. Matt and her mother were talking.
"So you're the boy who takes all those wonderful pictures of school activities?" her mother was saying. Blushing, Matt nodded.
"You're a really good photographer," her mother went on. "I like takin' pictures, but mine never come out the way yours do."
"Taking the pictures isn't the hard part," Matt said. "People make a big fuss when you take a picture they like. Mostly, it's luck."
"Hi, Matt," Dianna said. She knew that Matt, like Ricky, came from a family with a lot more money than hers, and was ashamed of her parents and their low income status. Matt's parents were both college graduates and important people in town. She was glad her father wasn't home. He was down at the bar, drinking with his friends, and would be miserable when he got home.
"Hi, Dianna," Matt replied. "Ready to go?"
"Nice meeting you, Mrs. Hillman," Matt said, then walked with Dianna to the front door and held it for her as she went out. Dianna found the chivalrous gesture endearing.
"Wow, is this your truck?" she asked. She looked at the shiny red vehicle sitting at the curb in front of her house.
"Actually, it belongs to my folks," he explained, "but they got it the way I wanted it. They don't let me use it to go to school, yet, though. My dad thinks it's better for me to ride the bus."
"It's awesome," Dianna said. Matt opened the door for her and she climbed up into the high cab.
"Ricky didn't come into the house last night when he picked me up," Dianna mused as Matt walked around to the driver's side of the truck and climbed in. "And he didn't hold doors for me, either." She felt a twinge of guilt about comparing the two boys.
"Your mom's nice," Matt commented as he started the truck and pulled away from the curb. "Is your father working?"
"Ah, no, um, he, um, has a kind of club meeting he goes to on Saturdays," Dianna lied. She knew he wouldn't want to be with her if he knew what her father was like. A nice boy like him wouldn't want to be dating the daughter of an alcoholic.
Matt drove back to his house, pulled into the driveway, on into the garage, and shut off the engine. Dianna saw him push a button, and realized the garage door was closing. She looked around and saw that the other half of the two-car garage was empty.
"Are your folks home?" she asked.
"Ah, no, they, um, they had to go out to Seattle. My grandmother's real sick," Matt said.
Dianna experienced a surge of disappointment. "Maybe I was wrong about him," she thought. "I can't believe it. Did he figure he could get me over here and get in my pants, just like other guys think they can?" She thought Matt was different.
"If...if you'd rather do something else..." Matt said, sensing her hesitation, "...we can. I mean, we don't have to stay here."
"That's all right," Dianna said, surprised that she agreed. He'd given her an out and she wasn't sure why she didn't take it.
Matt got out and held the door so Dianna could get out, then they went in the house.
"Want a soda?" he asked when the got in the kitchen.
"Sure," Dianna said. She looked around. The house was beautiful. It reminded her of pictures she'd seen in magazines her mother had. It would really be nice to live in a place like this.
Matt handed her a glass filled with soda. "Want to watch a movie?" he asked.
"Sure," Dianna said.
"Any particular movie you want to watch?" Matt asked. "Our collection is pretty complete." He led her into the living room and walked over to a large case filled with video cassettes. "We have most of the new ones, and a bunch of classics."
"Do you have any Shirley Temple movies?" Dianna asked.
"Which one?" Matt said.
She suggested one, he found it, put it in the VCR, and turned on the big-screen TV. Dianna sat down on the sofa, noting that Matt chose to sit in an easy chair near her. She was confused. Why had he asked her over if he wasn't going to make a move on her?
"I thought my mother was the only Shirley Temple fanatic in town," he said as the film began.
"I think she's incredible," Dianna said. "Shirley Temple, I mean. She was so talented. There's never been anyone else like her."
They watched the movie without saying much. When it was over, Matt asked if she'd like to see another.
"I...I don't think so," Dianna said.
"Would you like to see my photo lab?" he asked.
"Sure," Dianna said.
He got up. "It's upstairs, just off my bedroom," he explained.
"Here it comes," Dianna thought, expecting the worst. She was sure he would make a pass at her when he got her upstairs. But, despite her misgivings, she followed him up the steps.
Matt really did want to show her his lab. That surprised, and for some odd reason, disappointed Dianna.
In fact, he gave her a complete tour, and when he finished, he handed her an 8 X 10 glossy of her in her cheerleader uniform. Dianna loved the picture.
"This is a very good picture," she said. "It...it makes me look really pretty."
"Thanks," Matt said, blushing. "It's...it's easy taking good pictures when you have a good subject." Dianna was fun to be with and he really liked spending time with her.
Dianna was having similar feelings. "How do you decide when a picture's right?" she asked.
Matt shrugged. "I'm not sure," he said. "Mostly, I take a lot of pictures, then try to pick out the best ones after I develop them." He went on to explain the process, and found it difficult to do. It seemed so easy when he did it and so hard to explain it. "I can show you better than tell you," he said, finally, picking up his camera.
They spent the next hour moving around the house, taking pictures. Dianna felt a little like a model, he snapped so many shots of her.
Later, after they finished developing the film and were waiting for it to dry, Matt looked at her. "You hungry?" he asked.
"Ah, sort of," she replied.
"How about I make us something?" he suggested.
"You can cook?" Dianna was surprised.
Matt grinned and nodded. "I sure can, what would you like?"
Dianna didn't know. She wasn't sure about his professed cooking ability. Her father always said cooking was woman's work. Maybe his idea of cooking was warming up TV dinners or making frozen pizza. "Whatever you like is fine with me," she said, finally.
They went down to the kitchen and, while Dianna watched in amazement, Matt began to get things out.
"Can you make a salad?" he asked her.
Dianna nodded and said, "Sure."
"Stuff's in the refrigerator," Matt said.
Matt was making a bacon and cheese quiche, he told her. Dianna was impressed. She'd never had quiche before. Soon he had it baking in the oven and wonderful smells began to fill the kitchen.
The quiche tasted good, too, Dianna discovered when it was finally done. "Matt, this is incredible!" she told him.
"Thanks," he blushed.
"You're really amazing," she said. "You take wonderful pictures, and you're a good cook, too."
His face scarlet, Matt nodded and said, "My mom always says I'll make some lucky working girl a good housekeeper."
Most of the guys Dianna knew regarded cooking the same way her father did. She'd never thought about it much, but now she realized Matt was different. And it was a nice kind of different, she thought.
Matt was pleased by Dianna's praise. He found himself strongly attracted to her, but was having so much fun he didn't want to spoil it by making a move on her.
Dianna was equally attracted to Matt, and was confused by his failure to make sexual advances. Wasn't that what boys always did? He was really fun to be with; thoughtful, funny, and interesting. Why didn't he make a pass?
After dinner, Matt suggested another movie. This time he made the choice, and they watched "Blazing Saddles." The movie left both of them weak with laughter.
Sitting together on the sofa seemed natural, so did holding hands.
Eventually, to the disappointment of both of them, it was time for Matt to take Dianna home. He drove her to her house, and she found it very natural to sit close to him in the big cab of the truck as they drove along. That really made an impression on Matt. He pulled to the curb in front of her house.
"I really had a terrific time today, Matt," Dianna said as they sat in front of her home.
"Me, too," Matt replied. He boldly slid his arm across the seatback, behind her. Like so much of what had happened between them, their kiss seemed natural. It was a soft kiss, one full of warmth and tenderness, and it shook both of the young people to their very cores.
After the kiss, feeling very up, Matt took a chance. "Ah, there's a big dance next Friday night. Would you go with me?" he asked.
Dianna almost said she would, then thought of Ricky. Maybe he'd ask her. "I...I don't know," she said.
His eyes full of hurt, Matt said, "OK."
"I really did have a good time today," Dianna said. She realized she'd hurt him by not agreeing to go to the dance with him. "I really did."
She kissed him on the cheek, slid out of the truck, and ran up the sidewalk to her house. At the front door she turned, waved to him, and watched him drive away.
Inside, she ran down the hallway to her bedroom and fell on her bed, crying. She thought she was in love with Ricky, yet she'd felt so comfortable, so happy with Matt. And she was drawn to him. The kiss he gave her shook her more than Ricky's had. She had no idea what she really felt, or what she really should do.
Matt was confused, too. He thought Dianna liked him, and believed she had a good time with him. Why, then, wasn't she willing to go to the dance with him? It looked like he was doomed to a life without a girlfriend. Even the girls who seemed to like him didn't want to go out in public with him.
Discouraged, he went home, got undressed, and went to bed. He fell asleep, never realizing that he'd gone a full day without thinking about Mrs. Forrester.
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