Jumping at Shadows

There is no actual sex in this story

I thank Asylumseeker for his patience and editing skills.

*

If anyone tells me that life is supposed to be simple, I might just start crying. For me life, and especially relationships with women, has been a never-ending mystery.

My story starts when I was in grade school. My father was a struggling building contractor with a lot of experience in framing, but lacked the depth of experience in dry-walling. One day he ran into Steven, another struggling contractor who knew a lot about dry-walling but otherwise was very weak in his building skills.

Needless to say, my father and Steven soon realized that they would do a lot better if they worked together, and before I was in junior high they had turned their partnership into a thriving local business. Naturally my father Dave and Steven were thrilled and brought the two families closer together.

For me this became a problem because Steven had a daughter Janet who was in the same grade as I at school. Of course our fathers decided that they had to start living in a nicer neighborhood, and the summer before I started seventh grade, both families moved to one of the more exclusive neighborhoods in Fresno and took up residence in adjoining houses. I found myself always subtly pushed to spend time with Janet.

Well, spending time with Janet was not terrible. She kept her brunette hair in a short and sassy arrangement. Thanks to an energetic younger brother she tended to get out and run, so her body was slender, even if she had only a hint of breasts when we started school that first year.

As we journeyed up through high school Janet and I seemed to naturally drift into a relationship and dated exclusively throughout the intervening years. I enjoyed her company and was looking forward to living with her once we completed college.

Unfortunately the worm decided to reveal itself during our first term at UCLA. I had talked with my father and was pretty sure that a degree in architecture and drafting would help move the business forward and increase profits, and both he and Steven loved the idea.

Janet was not sure what career path she wanted to take, but was also attending UCLA, although we accepted our parents' edict that we not live together during our freshman year.

I honestly can say that I did not see it coming. I had just completed my last mid-term and wanted to take advantage of a night without studying so I gave Janet a call. She begged off claiming that she needed the evening to complete a term paper she was working on. Since she was not available I found myself at the student center shooting pool with several guys from my dorm.

We were in a back corner so I guess Janet did not notice me when she wandered in about an hour after we had started playing. I would have been a bit upset that she showed up without telling me she finished early, but the fact that she was draped over some hoodlum wearing a biker jacket really got my blood boiling. My opponent was tapping me on the shoulder to alert me that it was my shot when I saw Janet's hand slide down the guy's front and give a squeeze to his crotch.

I would have slammed the cue down, but my roommate had finally realized what I was looking at and snatched it away before I could do any damage to it or the tables. He had a hand on my arm and was trying to say something, but I stormed over to the table where Janet and her date were sitting. They were so absorbed in their petting that it was a couple of moments before Janet looked up and noticed me with a gasp.

"Interesting term paper you're working on Janet," I hissed. "I'm figuring that it's either a class on Human Sexuality, or you decided to write some paper about 'Cuckolding Throughout the Ages' and wanted to test your thesis."

Janet had been sitting on the inside of the booth and was struggling to get free of her boyfriend as I removed her class ring from my finger and then unhooked the necklace she had gifted me for graduation. I put the ring on the chain and then dropped the jewelry on the table in front of the guy who seemed to be clueless to the situation.

"Well Janet, I'll let your new man take these. I could never wear them with pride after seeing how loyal you are. Have a wonderful life."

I turned and walked away as Janet continued to try to climb over the guy. He must have figured out that he was in the middle of a domestic problem because I soon heard a new voice join in the calls for me to stop, but other than grabbing my jacket from my pool opponent I did not stop until I reached my dorm room.

Ten minutes later I was sitting on my bed and wondering what I had done wrong when the pounding started on my door. I could hear Janet screaming through it.

"Nate, please. Talk to me. It was a mistake. It meant nothing. Please!"

At first I listened, but my thoughts kept going back to the fact that she had outright lied to me when I had called earlier. I could hear her words, but I had little to no trust in them and my anger at her was enough that I feared what I might do if I opened the door.

The pounding continued and I finally had to hunt down my i-pod and turn the sound up to drown out Janet's increasingly hysteric cries. I could not relax and finally pulled out my math text, figuring that some intense study might help take my mind off the disaster, which my social life had just become.

I guess it worked, because the next thing I remember my roommate was gently shaking me to wake up as I slumped over my desk.

"Dude, your girlfriend is sleeping just outside. I had to sneak into another room on the floor, she spent hours trying to get in," he whispered.

I thought for a moment and realized that I could get away with missing my one Friday class for a week, and nodded. "Sounds like I need to disappear for the weekend. Let's hope the slut stays asleep for a few more minutes."

My roommate looked a bit shocked. "Aren't you going to talk to her?"

I shook my head. "I've had plenty of girls offer their pussies to me since my junior year in high school. I never accepted those offers because I respected Janet and our relationship. Now I find that she didn't have enough respect for me to admit that she was stepping out with other guys. And don't try to claim she didn't have her hands all over him. You saw her squeeze that bastard's cock," I snarled back, trying very hard to stay quiet.

Janet must have been tired, because she never woke as I stumbled around grabbing a few items of clothing and then stormed out of the room. My roommate later told me that her wails of despair when she woke up and learned I had left for the weekend were heard throughout the dorm and handed me an envelope signed by Janet's hand. That letter ended up thrown in a drawer, to be ignored.

Janet did try to get in touch with me for the rest of the term, but she lived in another dorm and the building guard soon figured out that I no longer welcomed her visits because he forced her to get someone to sign her in which gave me time to sneak out. Of course my parents and hers quickly became involved and I was to hear constant remarks like "She really loves you" or "You are being unfair" throughout the term and into the winter break.

The next term allowed me to relax as Janet seemed to back off. My roommate and the other guys in the dorm also decided that a nice guy like me needed to get out, and I soon found myself dragged to a couple of frat parties. At one I ran into a cute dark-haired charmer named Trish and soon was dating her regularly.

Trish proved to be a wild yet wonderful date, and by the end of the school year we were near-constant companions. Summer was going to be difficult, but we worked out a plan where she would visit me for a couple weeks, and then I would spend a week up at her parents' place.

The plan worked nearly perfectly, except that Trish happened to be visiting when my father hosted the annual summer picnic for the business. I knew that Steven and Mildred would attend, and had little doubt that Janet would also show up, so I tried hard to find a way to avoid showing up.

My father insisted, and so on that warm July Saturday found Trish and I sitting at a picnic table watching a bunch of kids when Janet walked up to me.

"Can we talk? Can we finally talk?" Janet demanded. I felt myself tense and Trish put a gentle hand on my shoulder.

"Talk about what? About how you lied to me that night when you said you were going to study? About how it was some accident when your hand squeezed that bastard's cock as you walked into the student center? Or perhaps you want to somehow make me believe that you always study with no bra on and your blouse unbuttoned almost to your waist?"

I heard a hiss from Trish and a loud shout of "Don how could you?" from my father as Janet ran away covering her face.

"How could I what, father?" I asked as I turned to him. "How could I tell the truth about what Janet did that caused our breakup? How could I be so vindictive towards a cheating slut? I told you that I did not want to be here because I knew she'd try to talk to me. You insisted, so you have to accept the consequences."

Trish seemed a little saddened as I got up and stormed off towards my car, half dragging her as she refused to release my arm. We ended up spending the night in a hotel where at first I used her like a whore before her patience and love brought me back to sanity. We woke up the next morning cuddled together, and somehow she was wearing my class ring.

My sophomore year had me putting a lot more time into drafting classes and I found that I loved the challenge of balancing form, function and cost. Kevin Huffman, one of my professors, took an interest in my work and soon I was spending extra time working on small projects for him. He even worked through his contacts to find me a summer internship with a major Central Valley architecture firm, and said that if I did well there, I could expect another after my junior year.

Trish and I got together at least two nights a week, and just about every weekend. I was feeling confident and happy, which was another way of saying I was a clueless idiot.

It was that summer I discovered the truth about Trish. The company I was interning for had just won a new job in Sacramento, and my boss surprised me one Thursday afternoon by telling me that they wanted me at the site at six a.m. the next day. Trish lived with her parents about three miles from the site, so I figured I would drive up the afternoon before and surprise her.

I was the one surprised. I had turn turned onto her street when she appeared out of the door of her parents' place wearing a mini-skirt and a pair of come-fuck-me pumps and walked confidently to a car waiting by the curb. I pulled a bit closer to see her get in the passenger side and give the driver a kiss that must have melted the seats with its passion.

Tears threatened to blind me, but somehow I managed to drive my car until I was directly across from the driver's door. I blasted the horn for just a moment and then reached around my neck to pull out the promise necklace Trish had given me as a birthday gift. I could see the driver trying to figure out what was happening as I put my arm out the window and dropped the chain onto the street.

The shout of "No!" coming from this still-parked car followed me down the street as I drove away.

The rest of the summer I threw myself into the work and asked for extra duties whenever possible. The more travel and site time I spent, the less time I had to reflect on my two cratered relationships. Trish at least did not bother trying to call after my father told her that I was traveling for work, and might be home at the end of the summer.

The only message she left was, "Tell him I'll explain when we return to school."

I scoffed when I found that note taped to my door when I returned from one of my trips. It had been nearly two years and I still refused to stay in Janet's presence if she tried to speak to me. Trish knew that and I had to wonder how she would manage to explain the fact that I found her ready to christen some guy's car with her pussy when I had promised her I would be true to her.

Trish was a bit cleverer than Janet. She had heard me comment about how most classrooms on campus had two or more exits and that it proved remarkably easy to avoid Janet simply by leaving from the exit that she was not standing next to.

Instead, Trish figured out what elective courses I might take and had friends audit them for the first week. I entered my American History class that second week to see Trish walk up to the professor and ask him to sign off on an add slip before she looked my way and then sat down in the front row.

I was upset, but there was no way that Trish was going to get me to slink off like some thief in the night. For the entire term we performed an interesting dance where she attempted to find a way to sit next to me, and I did my best to arrange that she could not approach me during class. In some ways it was like high school as several times she left notes in my bag or on my desk, always offering to meet me to explain.

Perhaps I could have met her, but my roommate reported that she was going out on regular dates. He made the news a bit more clear when he said that the frat rumor mill said that she was a sure-bet date. I left Trish a note the next class that simply said. "I do not talk to girls who sleep with entire frats." After that, Trish stopped trying to approach me, but remained in the class.

I was not without dates during this period. I guess after having both Janet and Trish decide that one man's love was not enough, I lost some of my faith in romance. Instead I dated a series of young ladies and built up a reputation for a great date, but completely uninterested in a relationship. I did treat the girls with respect and was happy to just sit and listen sometimes, but never dated the same girl more than four times and any dates after the second always included sex. Summer of my junior year found me back with the architecture firm, but now spending most of my time under one of their senior project managers. I found that there we many tricks which were not taught in school. He seemed impressed with my drive and intelligence and as the summer wound to a close he asked me if I had plans after I graduated.

Part of me wanted to return home, but my parents were still on my case about dumping Janet. Most of my visits home eventually ended with me locking myself into my room for the night and then leaving the next morning after a series of angry words. They kept trying to make it sound like Janet was pining away without me, but she had joined a sorority after I dumped her and my Greek friends told me that she was now the life of most parties and a good reason why that sorority was highly regarded for exchanges and such within the Greek system.

So, I ended up admitting that my future plans were very much in flux, but that I was not sure I wanted to commit at the time. California is a wonderful state but I had to wonder if something caused the girls here to become sluts and I wanted to see other parts of the nation before I committed myself to anything. The manager, Jason, slapped my back and told me he completely understood.

The biggest advantage of what had happened to me was that the two breakups and later disinterest in relationships had left me plenty of time to study. I was on schedule to graduate on time and had even planned on taking a pair of post-graduate courses in my final year. Kevin Huffman, my professor friend, continued to praise my work and often found contests or other activities I could use to broaden my skills. It was one such contest which started me on a new path.

The contest was to design a special custom home. The project had some strict guidelines, although it was mostly a test of one's ability to use computer-assisted design to create a blueprint and then display it. The classes I had taken gave me a strong background in the design work and use of the computer system, but I lacked much ability with the more artistic portions. My designs were solid and always met the demands of the assignment, but they tended to lack that final piece which made others say, "Wow."

Well, it turns out that Kevin knew a young lady studying interior design who had the opposite problem to mine. He told me that she had an eye for what would fit, and could use the display programs to show how her designs might look in practice after selection of materials and customizing. He insisted that if I worked with her I would definitely win, and even took the time to set up a meeting for us at three in the student center.

"Trust me," he said when I glared at him after he handed me a note with the time. "I would never guide my favorite students wrong."

Well, I had no answer to that, and his guidance in regards to my summer internships had been both instructional and lucrative, so two forty-five found me sitting in the booth remarked on in the note and nursing a Coke.

Thirty minutes passed while I sat there waiting and I finally decided that Kevin's friend had stood me up.

I had my bag sitting on the bench next to me and was closing it back up when I heard a voice say, "Oh God, please tell me that you are Don and that I'm not too late."

I turned and was ready to tell this girl that anyone who could not be on time was not someone I wanted to partner with when I saw her and my brain came to a complete stop. Trying to describe Bethany Ann Fisher is like trying to paint a picture without colors. I can start with the basics.

She has long blond hair that usually falls to her waist, unless she had put it up to clean. Her blue eyes seemed deeper than the sea and her perfect lips have a touch of rose to them even without lipstick. Tall and slender, I found out later that she played high school basketball but decided to concentrate on her studies in college, and with perfect breasts that screamed for me to reach out and touch them. Even her outfit when I first met her was perfect. It was attractive but understated, and sexy without appearing slutty.

However, at that moment this gorgeous blond beauty was looking at me with concern until finally my mind restarted.

"Oh, sorry. Yes, I am Don, and while you are a bit late, I guess waiting for someone as beautiful as you is not too much of a chore," I replied finally.

The lady slid onto the bench on the opposite side of the booth, dropping her backpack on the floor.

"I should introduce myself, since I imagine that Professor Huffman forgot to give you my name. I'm Bethany," she said and held out her hand.

"Charmed," I said as I took her hand. I had a wicked thought and before she could pull it away brought it up to my lips and gave it a quick kiss. Bethany pulled her hand away and blushed, but there was a smile in her eyes.

"You're dangerous," she decided as she opened her bag and pulled out a copy of the requirements. "However, we are here to put together an entry for this contest. Do you have any ideas?"

I am not going to bore you with the next seven hours of conversation. Bethany and I proved to be every bit as compatible in design as Professor Huffman thought, and what followed that last line was a marathon session where we discussed design, detail, materials, positioning, construction difficulties, and finally the cost for our entry.

In many ways it was as if we were designing for a real customer. Our skills really did compliment each other. Once we had a basic idea, I could put the walls and major structural points in quickly. After that, Bethany would follow and spot all the interior points which would need decoration. She would sit and ask me what materials I would recommend and then find something which brought out some aspect of my design with a flair that I had never managed.