Something to Offer Ch. 01

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Middle-aged mom reflects on her coming-of-age.
10.3k words
4.55
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Part 1 of the 2 part series

Updated 09/22/2022
Created 09/04/2004
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Part 1 of 2: My First Love

Reclining on my sofa, I watch my pre-pubescent teenage daughter playing on the lawn with several other neighborhood girls, knowing these carefree days are short-lived indeed. I realize that she'll soon be interested in rolling around with boys instead of girls, even if she doesn't want to admit it.

The prospect of having mature discussions with my daughter, of helping guide her through the difficult time to follow, leads my thoughts back to my own sexual awakenings; a curious tale that ends with her miraculous conception at the very moment I discovered the true love of my life.

Not that my amorous activity started out on a high note. My initial experience was with the boy next-door. Not the proverbial, good-natured, wholesome boy next-door, but the far more common pompous jackass next-door. Of course, at the time I thought he was the handsome husband-to-be next-door. This fantasy was painfully crushed when all the bastard had to say the next day was, "Tubby babe like you better learn to swallow, 'cause you got nothing else to offer."

Although I didn't understand at the time what he meant, I knew it was a rejection; and not just any stray dismissal, but a stinging rebuke based solely upon my stocky stature. In retrospect, I should have told my mom, but I never did. Instead, I allowed this single slur to scar my psyche throughout most of adolescence.

Even so, my early high school years were generally enjoyable. I participated in some of the more academic extra-curricular activities. I had my share of friends, all of them female. The closest of these were Lynn and Denise, whom I had known since elementary school. By the time the three of us reached high school, we were a tight-knit trio, sharing our joys, dreams, and sorrows.

The one thing I never shared however was this nagging voice in the back of my mind, "No boy will ever want you." I had even begun to console myself that at least I'd loved and lost; if only once, when an odd request changed the course of my love life, and most likely the rest of my life as well.

It began one Friday afternoon in mid-November of my senior year, when I was walking to the school bus and Billy Drake appeared suddenly at my side.

"Hi, Wendy."

I looked about, as if there might be another Wendy nearby, so surprised was I that one of the athletic crowd would deign to speak to me.

"Hi," I replied tentatively, certain there must be a catch.

Billy's gaze shifted to the pavement before us. "You're eighteen, right?"

"Yes." It was true; I'd legally become an adult just in time to be one of the six or so people in Pennsylvania that favored Jimmy Carter over Ronald Reagan.

"You suppose," Billy half-mumbled, "that I could, uh, ask you to buy me some beer?"

I stopped. My first inclination was to summarily reject the request, but I filed my spite under 'unnecessary' and changed my mind. "Ok," I agreed with a shrug.

Billy's eyebrows shot up. "Cool!" He grabbed my hand and began to lead me in the opposite direction.

"Uh," I muttered. "Where are we going?"

"To my car," Billy replied curtly, as if I was daft not to have known.

After a few paces I realized a jock was really walking with meand holding my hand. Not that I had any foolish delusions that I was his girl or anything, but I found myself smiling just the same. I couldn't resist the impulse to grip his hand back.

The instant Billy felt my returned pressure he shook his hand. My spirits sank for all of a second before I heard a dull thud and saw Billy flinch out of the corner of my eye. I turned to search for the source of the noise just in time to see Billy's crumpled athletic jacket slide from his body to the ground.

"Sally was right!" came a voice to my left, beyond Billy. "You are a two-timing prick!" I craned my head from behind my companion to see the speaker. I expect my eyes must have widened considerably as I saw Cindy Pierce.

Cindy's face was so exquisite, her figure so fine, that one could practically hear the crackle of cocks hardening whenever she walked past. One of the upper echelon, she'd have been a serious candidate for prom queen if she'd only paired up with an equally elite athlete, instead of just an ordinary jock. In spite of the accompanying drop in her social status, Cindy had remained Billy's on-again, off-again, girlfriend for as long as anyone could remember.

"It's not what it looks like," Billy stammered.

Cindy crossed her arms and rolled her eyes. "Really?"

Billy declined to meet her stare or answer her allegation, opting instead to reach down and pick up his jacket.

The awkward silence got the better of me. "We're just going to get some beer," I said.

Cindy merely tilted her head and smirked.

"Yeah," agreed Billy, standing. "We're just getting some beer for after the game."

Cindy's brow jumped into her forehead. "And you need to hold hands for that?"

"Well, uh, we... " Billy stammered, worse than before.

Cindy sighed as she uncrossed her arms. "I didn't think so." She turned and stalked away.

Billy's gaze remained rooted to the ground as the gathering of chance onlookers slowly dispersed.

"I'm sorry," I finally offered, breaking his trance.

"Well," Billy shrugged. "I think it was about time for our monthly break-up anyway."

For the remainder of our silent walk to Billy's car I kept trying to convince myself that it wasn't my fault that Cindy had dumped Billy, but no matter how many ways I found to tell myself, I couldn't find one way to listen. The initial portion of the ride was more of the same. Neither of us spoke a word until we reached the liquor store.

Billy retrieved his wallet and handed me a twenty. "Get a couple six packs."

I took the bill. "What brand?"

Billy shrugged. "Whatever's cheap."

I felt like public enemy number one walking into FBI headquarters as I entered the establishment. After gaining my bearings, I found the beer cooler, grabbed the cheapest swill I could find and then headed for the counter. All my apprehension was for naught; the old man at the register barely looked at me, let alone ask for my ID.

Back in the parking lot, I opened the car door and set the cans in as far as I could reach before climbing in myself. Only after I'd settled in did I realize that I'd put the beer directly atop Billy's jacket.

"I'm sorry," I said, lifting the cans to the side before attempting to straighten the garment.

"Don't worry about it," said Billy. "This is my last semester in sports anyway." He tossed the jacket in the back seat as if he were tossing garbage into a dumpster.

"What do you mean?" I asked.

Billy sighed. "I'm failing second year math.Again. I'll be lucky to graduate. If I could find a job, I'd take it and dropout tomorrow."

I stared at the floor. I was sure I was going to Pitt. I never put much thought into the plight of those not destined for college. "I could help," I suggested. "If you want."

"What?" Billy asked. "Find a job?"

"No," I replied, trying not to laugh. "I could help you with your math."

"Huh," Billy snorted. "Just because it's easy for you doesn't mean you can make it easy for me."

"I didn't say it would be easy," I responded. "I just offered to help."

I turned my attention out the passenger side window; very much wishing the trip would soon be over. Only then did I realize we weren't heading toward my house. I turned back to Billy. "I live the other way."

"What?"

"You're going the wrong way," I said. "I live off highway eight, southeast of town."

"Damn," Billy uttered in a subtle, yet serious, way. After a few seconds of consideration, he looked my direction. "You sure you don't want to go to the game?"

Football has always been big in western Pennsylvania, never more so than when I was a senior. The Steelers reign as kings of the NFL was still so fresh we didn't realize it was over. Pitt and Penn State were both ranked in the top ten. Our high school was a perennial district power. The successes of the local teams were a stark contrast to the failure of the local economy; many turned to the gridiron as a means of inspiration or, at the very least, distraction. The game, however, had never interested me; I knew Dan Marino was cute, Terry Bradshaw wasn't, and that was about it.

"I'd rather go home," I declared before adding, "if it won't make you late for the game."

"Nah," Billy replied, steering the car into a convenient parking lot. "Plenty of time. We just get together before the game and hang out anyway."

For a moment, the thought of seeing how the proverbial other-half lived appealed to me, but I figured Billy would ditch me as soon as we were there and then I'd either be bored or begging a ride. Besides, my mom would wonder where I was and probably worry, even though I wasn't specifically forbidden from going places without informing her.

Billy guided the car back onto the road going the opposite direction. The conversation during the remainder of the journey consisted of small talk. I felt he was just as uncomfortable having me in the car as I was being there.

"Thanks for getting the beer," Billy said as he pulled into my driveway.

"No problem," I replied as the vehicle came to a halt. I opened my door, intent on departing.

"Did you mean what you said?" Billy asked, delaying my exit.

I looked over my left shoulder at him. "About what?"

"About maybe helping me with my math."

"Sure," I shrugged. "I guess; I mean if you want to. When?"

Billy nodded solemnly. "Soon."

"Next week?"

Billy raised his eyebrows in a begging manner. "Tomorrow?"

I smiled. "Ok."

Billy replied with a grin. "Great. How about I pick you up about six?"

"Fine," I nodded, resuming my departure.

"Thanks," Billy added as I closed the door.

I nodded in reply and gave a tentative wave before walking around the front of the vehicle.

"You're ok," Billy called from an open window as I reached my porch. I stood wondering what to make of this minor compliment as he backed his car from the drive and sped away.

* * * * *

I prepared for my upcoming tutoring appointment as if it was a true date. Sure, I knew Billy just wanted to stay in sports, but I also knew that I'd have him all to myself for at least a slice of an evening. I took two baths, combed my hair for half an hour, and changed my outfit a half dozen times.

I expected my mom to drill me over going to so much effort for a study session, but she only smiled and offered the use one of her girdles. In hindsight, I'm sure she understood all too well what I was experiencing.

Although initially repulsed by the idea of borrowing anything of my mother's, a little before-and-after comparison convinced me otherwise. I eventually settled on my best push-up bra, a low cut white blouse, a snug pair of jeans and a black sweater.

To Billy's credit, he didn't keep me waiting, his headlights illuminating the drive promptly at six, followed by a quick beep of his horn. I was at first dejected he didn't even bother to come to my door, but reminded myself it wasn't a real date. Gathering my belongings, I walked out to meet him wearing a genuine smile in addition to my carefully selected attire.

Climbing into the passenger seat, the dome light provided me with a good view of Billy's grease-stained jeans and ragged T-shirt. I concluded that he was indeed interested in studying, nothing more, and chided myself for being foolish enough to have a glimmer of hope that we might eventually be more than study pals.

To my surprise, Billy noticed that I had noticed. "Sorry 'bout the grubs," he explained. "I was helpin' James with his Nova and I didn't have time to go home and change."

"No big deal," I replied. "Not like it's a date or anything."

"No," Billy snorted, putting the transmission in reverse. "I guess not."

My eyes fell to the seat and a card with the words "Happy Birthday" over a small bouquet of flowers.

"Is it your birthday?" I asked, lamenting that I might have missed an opportunity to express my interest with a gift.

"Not until Wednesday," Billy replied. "Cindy just mailed it a bit early, I guess."

"Cindy?" I all but gasped. "Are you two back together?"

"No," Billy began. "She mailed it the day before we broke up. That's what I meant by a bit early. Go ahead and read it if you want. Pretty funny if you ask me."

My hand moved toward the card as if it was a snake. Picking it up, I flipped to the interior. There, below the token sentiment were Cindy's words:

Happy Birthday Billy!

But this card isn't really your real birthday present. You wait and see. I love you more than you can know, and I always will.

Love, Cindy.

I tongued my lips as I finished reading, unsure what I should say. Eventually I settled upon nothing and simply returned the card to its spot.

Looking at the road ahead through Billy's gritty windshield, it dawned on me I had no idea where we were going; or, for that matter, why. I had been so excited about the occasion I had never considered Billy's intended destination.

"Where are we going?" I asked, trying not to sound concerned.

"My place," Billy replied nonchalantly. "Why?"

"Nothing," I shrugged. "Just seems a bit silly when we might just as well have studied at mine."

"We can go back, if you want," Billy offered, "but I'd rather change first, if that's ok."

"No big deal," I replied. "Just trying to save you a bit of gas."

Billy nodded his agreement. "Good idea. Let's do that next time."

"Deal," I said quickly, thrilled there might be a next time.

Billy's home was a row house from the early part of the century, on a hill overlooking downtown. Even in the relatively dim moonlight I could tell it had seen better days. Many houses looked that way in that era of double-digit inflation and similar unemployment, but I had somehow harbored the silly expectation that all the popular kids must live in houses nicer than mine.

I still don't know if I looked surprised or if Billy was already self-conscious about his dwelling, but he at once addressed the structure's condition. "Hope you'll pardon the mess. The house is a bit old; y' know."

"No problem. I like Victorians," I said, hoping to sooth any embarrassment he felt.

Billy tilted his head and examined the facade with some scrutiny before asking, "What's a Victorian?"

"It's the style of home," I answered. "From when Queen Victoria was alive."

Billy grunted, shrugged, and then nodded. "Never knew we ever had a queen." He moved to the porch and unlocked the door. Throwing the portal open, he reached inside to turn on the light and then stood aside so that I might enter first.

"Thank you," I said, and walked through the opening into the foyer, which was really just a wide corridor with a stairway to one side.

Immediately a feminine voice issued from a room to my left. "Billy? Is that you?"

"Yeah, Mom," Billy called back, closing and re-locking the door.

A tall woman appeared wearing a simple blue bathrobe, her hair in curlers. She stiffened when she saw me, apparently not expecting her son to have company.

"This is Wendy," Billy said simply. "We're gonna study math a bit together."

Billy's mother smiled. "Really? Well, that's wonderful. Please, Wendy, make yourself right at home."

I nodded politely and smiled. "Why, thank you, ma'am."

"Yeah, mom, thanks," Billy added, in a tone far more dismissive than grateful.

Mrs. Drake sighed. "Ok. I'll leave you to your studying." She retired with a deliberate reluctance, back the way she had come. I realized with some horror that I often treated my mother the same way, and resolved to catch myself next time and do better.

"This way," Billy said, motioning with an open palm up the stairs.

I led until I reached a small landing crowded with five closed doors.

"First one on the right," Billy directed.

I opened the door and tentatively pawed the wall inside for a light switch.

"It's a bit low," Billy said, reaching his arm underneath mine. He flipped the switch, illuminating his room. "Maybe people were shorter back then."

I giggled politely at the mild jest and entered the room. I was prepared for a total mess, having heard some of my friends talk about their brothers. I was relieved to find it cluttered, but nowhere near the sty I had anticipated.

Billy moved to his desk and with both arms gathered the pile of loose papers. He looked aimlessly about for a better location for them before finally settling on the foot of his unmade bed. "I'll be right back with another chair," he said, darting from the room.

I chuckled to myself, thinking that at least he could count to two.

When Billy returned and the true tutoring began however, I found very little room for amusement. I quickly discovered that Billy really wanted to learn, but he simply didn't have the mental faculties to do so. Sure, I knew I was smarter than most, but I never quite grasped until then that claims of "I don't get it!" were sometimes true. I had always imagined other students got poor grades because they were lazy.

Inside of half an hour, the combination of the close quarters, the Drake's thermostat setting, and perhaps my own frustration level, left me feeling a bit overheated. Hoping a little more comfort might provide a fresh perspective, I removed my sweater and tossed it on the bed atop Billy's pile of papers.

Whatever interest Billy might have had in numbers vanished in favor of trying to look down my blouse. At first I was annoyed by his lack of attention to what I considered to be the topic at hand. Soon enough though, I became excited by his fascination with my breasts; I intentionally leaned and moved in various ways to give him a better view.

I wondered if Billy had a hard-on and even dropped my pencil once as an excuse to take a peek, but my reconnoitering proved inconclusive. Nevertheless the final portion of our studying was far more enjoyable, and no less effective, than had been the first part.

The trip home was mostly forgettable. I think I spent the bulk of the trip trying to think of something interesting to say, and saying nothing instead.

"When do you want to meet next?" I asked as the car pulled into my drive.

Billy shrugged. "Soon."

"Wednesday?" I offered, before reconsidering. "Oh, I forgot that's your birthday."

"Doesn't matter," Billy said. "I'm not doing anything anyway."

I smiled. "Ok, then. Wednesday it is."

* * * * *

I awoke the next morning fairly aglow, feeling more alive than I ever had before; a boy had finally shown an interest in me, a decidedly physical interest. A cute and available boy, too. I resolved that if there was an opportunity for more than mere ogling, I was not going to miss it.

I spent the next several days learning everything I could about physical intimacy. The public library and the local smut shop turned out to be excellent complementing sources. I discovered what the boy next door had meant with his once-cryptic slam.

After I got over the shock, I decided that if that's what a pudgy girl had to do to get a guy, then that's what I would do. Looking back, I can easily see that I all but oozed insecurity, but I was also resolute. I purchased a dildo and began practicing; determined that when the time came, I would be ready.

My excitement mounted as the Wednesday before Thanksgiving approached and with it our alleged study session, though cracking the books was no longer on my agenda. Keeping an eye on Billy as much as I dared in the interim, I had some confidence when his car pulled into my drive that he and Cindy had not yet reconciled.

I still smile when I recall the twice over Billy gave me as I answered the door. My sheer black blouse really got his attention.