The Conspiracy

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It seemed impossible to get Jason to snare Nancy.
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Some things just aren't meant to be. Physical impossibilities, like apples falling up, or frogs singing The Star Spangled Banner. Things that are way too remote to count on, like rolling twenty consecutive sevens. Or, at odds of one in 175 million, you could include winning the Power Ball in that category, too. You can add to that list the way my friend Jason was feeling about striking up a lingering relationship with Nancy Peterson. It just seemed totally impossible!

Now I'd known Jason since high school, and I knew that he was a good guy. Trouble was that he was so completely, absolutely, through and through, scrupulously, microscopically honest that he projected his feelings to the world, including his lack of self confidence. He was incapable of putting up a brave, cocky front to make a good impression. How many times have you met some guy who came up to you with a friendly smile and firm handshake and said something stupid like, "Glad to meet you, sir," and you came away thinking, "Now there's a good young man, solid, sensible, intelligent. Got a real future ahead of him." Chances are the guy in question could be a forger or rapist or foreign spy, but his good first impression had carried the day. Now for every one like him, there are a dozen others whom you have barely noticed, or turned away from, who never even made it to the handshake because of the initial impression they projected. Fact is, I'm one of the favored few with the firm handshakes et cetera, which helped a lot when I was lining up investors. Jason, on the other hand, falls into the company of losers who never even get a turn at bat.

Okay, suppose you're that kind of a loser. Makes sense that after a while you'd become adjusted to it and you'd lower your expectations, right? Of course, and that's just what they all do, all except Jason. He came into my garage one day when I was working on one of my sports cars. They're a hobby of mine, and this one was a really sad-looking MGB roadster that would provide plenty of challenge for a few months yet. Oh, wait. You don't know me, do you? Then I ought to explain that I invented a couple of trivial gadgets that hit it off well with housewives, and then parlayed the income from those little beauties into a pretty potent portfolio that supports my wife and me comfortably whether we ever do another day's work or not. I bought a nice house on a small man-made lake, and then bought and demolished the house next door to build a garage that could house a dozen cars, six across by two deep, with additional shop space ahead of their front bumpers and an unfinished second floor that could be turned into another spacious home. Usually I can be found tinkering on my toys in my wonderful playroom, and in good weather I often keep the south-facing overhead doors open to let in daylight, fresh air, and the occasional neighbor who wants to indulge his curiosity or talk about the prospects of our floundering football or blundering baseball team. But on that day when I was removing the rear end of the MG from its accustomed perch on the rear springs, Jason walked in and I swear the air temperature dropped ten degrees and a cloud blotted out the sun.

I rolled out from under the car on my creeper and wiped my hands, looking at Jason and taking a wild guess. "Either the sky has fallen or you struck out with Nancy again," I ventured, and he nodded. The sky looked okay to me, so I zeroed in on Nancy. "Did you talk with her or just turn and walk away as usual?"

"Well, both. I talked, and she seemed friendly enough, but I couldn't think of much to talk about so I finally said 'Have a nice day,' and left."

"You know, saying almost anything would have been better than walking away. I bet if you'd said, 'I'd love to get into your pants!' she probably would have come back with some remark that would start a conversation. O you could try, 'I bet your pussy tastes better than ice cream.' Even if she'd slapped your face, she'd know how you feel about her and then you could go back later and apologize, and that would get something going between you two. How can I ever get you to think positively and go at this Nancy project as if you just know it's all going to work out? Maybe I ought to go at this from the other end, and have a talk with Nancy. How would you feel if I could tell you that she has a case of the hots for you? I wonder if that'd work?"

"No, don't say anything to her. That'll just make it worse."

"Nonsense. It can't get any worse. The worst thing that could happen is that she'd say she isn't interested in you, and then you can just back off and try with someone else. But I've watched her eye you when you weren't looking. I think she's just looking for you to make any advance at all and she'll pounce on you."

"Hah. Fat chance."

"Okay, here's how I'll leave it. You're probably right, so I won't mess you up. You just go on trying this your way, and I'll keep my nose out of it. Suit you?"

"Yeah, I guess so. Well, see ya around."

I waited till Jason had walked down the street to his house, and when I was sure he couldn't hear I pulled out my cell phone and made a call. "Nancy? Chuck Farmhill here. What's the best looking girl in the county doing on a beautiful afternoon like this?" "No, that's the whole reason I called, just to see how you are. But as long as I've got you on the phone, there's something important we need to talk about. Got time to drop over here to my garage? I can't very well go out on the street looking like this, with my coveralls on and all smeared with dirt and grease, but you always look so perfect that you'll brighten up the neighborhood as you walk over here." "Tell you what: just come in the garage. The doors are wide open. We'll grab a couple of iced coffees out of the fridge and go out on the patio and talk." "Okay, great."

I know Nancy, and I know a little bit about women in general. She'd take ten minutes deciding what to wear over here, then a half hour to shower and dry and style her hair, another half hour to dress and put on makeup so carefully that she'd look as if she didn't wear any, then finally make the five minute walk from her house to mine. So I checked the fridge to see that it was properly stocked, went out and arranged two chairs carefully on the patio overlooking the lake, put some CDs on the player, and then went back to work on the MG. I had the driveshaft wiped down and inspected and the universal joints apart when she arrived, looking like the cover of a women's magazine.

"Damn it, Nancy, how do you always look so stunning? And why? Got any idea how many of the housewives around here hate you? I don't know the exact number, but for a rough guess let's say all of them. How do the kids in your class pay attention to their lessons when they'd rather look at you?"

"That's why I teach the primary grades, get 'em before their testicles have descended. But I always get the most fathers out on parent-teacher conference nights, so I guess I haven't lost it yet."

"Come on out to the backyard." As we walked past the refrigerator I opened the door and waved my arm. "Help yourself to whatever you'd like." We walked down the hall past the rest room and the doors to the stockroom and the shop, and out onto the patio that was shaded from the afternoon sun by the house and the big acacia tree. We settled into the chairs that offered a view of the wide part of the lake, with the island off to our left, the clubhouse at the far right, and the waterfronts of a dozen well-kept houses in between.

Nancy led off the conversation. "I've got a good idea what you want to talk about. Want to bet on it?"

"Sure. A dollar says you're wrong."

"I wrote it down on this slip of paper." She pulled a little sheet from a memo pad out of her purse and set on the table between our chairs.

"Hold on while I write mine down." I pulled out a piece of paper where I'd been jotting notes about what I need to get for the MG, and wrote on the back. Then I pulled out a dollar bill. "Here's my money. Where's yours? Put up or shut up."

"Right here, but I really don't need it because I'm gonna win."

"Okay, when I count to three we'll both turn our papers over. One, two, three."

We looked at the two places where the name "Jason" had been written. Nancy smiled and picked up my dollar.

"All right, Chuck, let's talk. You tell me, what do I have to do, pull his pants down on the sidewalk and give him a blowjob in front of everybody on the street?"

"Hey, that might work. But seriously, we've got to do something. Every time I see him, Jason looks a little more dejected. You know what a good person he is. He's loved you since seventh grade. If you settle down with him, you'll never have to wonder whether he's fooling around on you, or worry about what he'll do when you get older and put on a few pounds or get crow's feet by your eyes. Jason loved you when you were a skinny adolescent, before you filled out to where you could model swimsuits. He loves you for what you are, not what you look like. If we don't get this moving along it's going to ruin both your lives. And I wouldn't be much of a friend to either of you if I just stand back and let that happen."

"Sure. You're right on all counts, but you're preaching to the choir. What can we do?"

"It shouldn't take much. Think about creating a situation that's unusual, so that we can shock him out of his comfort zone and get some action going. And while we're at it, you'll have to drop the innocent maiden act and be ready to grab him as soon as he shows a glimmer of interest."

"Aw, gee, after all these years of trying to act ladylike, you want me to show my true self?"

"Nancy, I know your true self better than you do. I want to see you two together before I die because you're both good people and you deserve each other." I sat and reflected for a few seconds. "If he doesn't ask me to be his best man, I expect to be your maid of honor."

* * * * * * * * * *

The rest of the afternoon, Nancy and I worked out a plan, like two conspirators in the original "Mission Impossible" show. We weren't Peter Graves or Leonard Nemoy, but we did the best we could. We'd just got to a concept we both liked when I heard the garage door next door go up. I excused myself to go and welcome my wife home from the buying trip she and her partner had made to the northern part of the state, making a sweep of out of the way places to pick up a few bargains. In another two months the cold winter weather would shut down the antique business there, while our milder climate would breathe life into it here.

"How'd it go? Any real finds?"

"A wonderful bed. We can display the headboard and footboard in the shop and keep the rest in the barn. It's the kind of thing that lends an atmosphere to the place and I don't care whether it sells or not. We got it for a song. Some really good metal signs, and then the usual dribs and drabs of kitchen and dining room stuff. Oh, we picked up an old revolver in beautiful condition that I want you to look over."

"Sounds like a worthwhile trip. Where's all the stuff?"

"Still on the trailer. I parked it in the barn for now, and some day soon you and George can help us unload it and arrange the stuff in the shop. What've you been up to?"

"Working on the MG. And right now I've got Nancy over on the patio, planning a party with me. C'mon over and join in"

"Soon as I wash the road dust off. You can grab me a beer and a chair, and I'll be right there."

Ruth came walking across the backyard, and when she caught Nancy's eye she threw her hands in the air and yelled, "Aha! I caught you two at last! Call the lawyer!"

Nancy feigned shock and threw her arms across her chest. "Oh, what a good thing we got our clothes back on in time!" She stood and the two of them hugged.

"What's going on here?" asked Ruth. Is it a surprise party for me, in honor of, oh I don't know, what?"

"More of a surprise for Jason. Now, mum's the word."

"Let me guess. You're going to pry out of him the fact that he loves you, and then you're going to throw him down on the ground and have your way with him."

"Pretty close. Here, Chuck, can you twist the top off this bottle? My little lily white teacher hands are too soft for anything harder than a whiteboard marker." I did the honors on all three beer bottles, while Nancy started the explanation.

"We'll throw a party. Chuck thinks he can get the upstairs over the garages cleared out and cleaned to be our party house. We were thinking maybe Halloween, but that seemed to call for too much preparation for the party house and for the party goers. So we pretty well settled on the tail end of September, and we can call it an end of summer party. Invite friends and neighbors. You two would of course be host and hostess, and we'd get the whole thing going with some party games and plenty to drink. Then we stage a phone call from somebody. A sudden crisis that needs you two to dash to the rescue. You tell everybody to keep partying, and name Jason and me to act as the host couple in your absence. So we have to stay till everybody else leaves, and we'll be working together to get things moderately straightened up. I'll be hovering at his elbow, and if that doesn't get the trap sprung, I'll turn my ankle and need a macho man to help me. How's that sound to you?"

"Audacious! Let's get a sofa, along with some other furniture, and he can lay you on the sofa and then lay you on the sofa. Gotta use the old, 'Oh, you're so strong. What would I ever do if you weren't here? Come and lean down here and let me give you a kiss.' I know that'll work because it worked on Chuck!"

"So that's how you pushed him to get serious about saving you from spending your life as a spinster!"

I couldn't hold back any longer. "You know, I've wondered how that happened. One day I was a carefree bachelor, and the next I was up to my armpits in wedding plans. We both went so deep into the hole on that wedding that I had to get hot inventing stuff to keep us from bankruptcy. And then I kept at it, thinking that the first one would fizzle out. Of course, what made it really click was that Ruth got me to quit inventing after I hit two good ones in a row. So I got out before I sank all of our earnings into a loser, like that guy who invented the hula hoop. You know, if Ruth hadn't got me down on that sofa I'd probably be working in some garage as a mechanic to this day."

"Don't forget, we started on the sofa but we ended up on the floor. My mother never did get those stains out of the carpet. She said if she ever re-carpets the living room, she's going to cut out those pieces and frame them and hang them up on the wall. Tell you what, Nan, if you can land Jason on our sofa, don't wipe it clean and we'll give you the sofa as a wedding present."

I thought about the bare space up over the garages. "Hon, we'll have to get some furniture. Maybe you could start looking around at used furniture at Goodwill or wherever."

"Sweetheart, I don't object when you spend thousands on some goofy old car, so don't you start getting stingy with the guest house that I've been dying to build. You hire a crew to come in and clean it up, and then stand back. I'll take care of the furniture and decoration. A little remodeling, too; move some walls and do some plumbing. Nan, there'll be two bedrooms all furnished, ready to use when you get Jason to come around. So you can tell him your ankle hurts too much for the sofa, and drag him away to get you really comfortable on a bed while you convince him that he proposed to you."

"Hey, I did propose to you, didn't I? Come to think of it, I don't remember saying it. The details of that night seem a little fuzzy to me. I do recall you telling me about it afterward. You said I didn't get down on one knee, I was lying on my back. And whatever I did down there on the floor, it seemed to make you happy, so I guess it worked out okay."

"Well, there's nothing fuzzy about the results, is there? All's well that ends well."

No argument there. You can't improve on perfection.

* * * * * * * * * *

Preparations for the party went ahead full blast. Ruth had persuaded her partner to run the antique shop for about a month while she acted as our purchasing agent and general contractor, with Nancy as her assistant. Contractor Ruth got a couple of walls moved, kept two crews of plumbers busy fixing up the kitchen, bathrooms, and wet bar, and finished it all off with cool colors that blended perfectly. There were three bathrooms, one with a toilet and sink just off the living room, and two more with huge stall showers for the two bedrooms. The kitchen was fully functional, and there were dishes and flatware all washed and put away, ready for use. The stove had a flat top, easy to clean up no matter what got spilled on it. A huge flat screen TV dominated one end of the living room. At the other end was a wet bar, all plumbed with its own sink and drain connection. We now had the ideal place to hold a party, and it was exactly what we'd been planning to do with that space for the two years since the garage building had been completed, so we killed two birds with one stone. Well, one of the birds was Jason and he hadn't been bagged yet, but we were confident.

Ruth took me for a final walk-through inspection on the Saturday before Labor Day. After looking it all over, I commented, "Too bad we can't have a drink to celebrate the completion of our guest cottage."

"What do you mean, too bad? There are three kinds of beer and four kinds of soda in the refrigerator, the bar is well stocked, and you probably didn't notice the refrigerated wine closet, with a dozen bottles all chilled, positioned just right to keep the corks moist. Whatever you want to drink, we've got it right here."

"Well then I'll have a whiskey and soda. What can I get you?"

"I'll have the same. Bring 'em over here and we'll cuddle and have a drink together." So we did, and when I mentioned that I could really do with another drink it dawned on us that we didn't have to worry about counting our drinks because we could not only walk home, but we could even stay here all night and avoid having to negotiate the stairway if we were a little unsteady. So that night we completely christened our cottage.

We were on the sofa when I pulled Ruth to me for a kiss. It was like being on a date. Her lips parted just a little, and I sneaked my tongue in. The kiss lasted about five minutes, in which time she lost her blouse, bra, shoes, and jeans, and lay in my arms in just her thong. My shirt was gone, along with my shoes and socks, and my jeans were unbuttoned and unzipped. I stood, bringing her up with me, and slid her thong down to the carpet. Meanwhile, Ruth had hooked her thumbs into my waistband and slid my jeans and underwear off. We stepped out of the pile of clothes and looked around to see where we wanted to go next. "How about the carpet, make it just like that magic night at my parents' house?"

"Good idea. I'want to keep track of what happens this time. When we get to the proposal part, be sure to alert me so I don't miss it the way I did then."

I sat down on the carpet, which felt as soft as a fur coat. I pulled Ruth down onto my knees and helped myself to her luscious tits. I was sucking one as if I needed nourishment while I twiddled the other nipple with my fingers, and after a long suck I switched. "You're going to leave bruises on them if you're not careful."

"Maybe that's what I want to do, mark you for my own. You're the most exciting thing that's ever come my way, and that's from a man who's driven a car that weighs less than a ton at over a hundred miles an hour. Make no mistake, you're the pinnacle of my existence and you always will be, forever. You're my greatest thrill. I'll never get enough of you." As I was saying this, I was sliding my fingertips across her G spot but I hadn't touched her clit yet.

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