Amy's Birthday Week Ch. 05

(Author's note: welcome, one and all, to the final chapter of the first act of Amy's story! If this is your first time here, I would advise you to go back and read the previous chapters to get the full story. If you can't be bothered to do that, here's the gist: these stories chronicle the summer of 1993, when young Amy Lefebvre turns eighteen, graduates high school, and throws herself headlong into the world of adulthood by indulging her sexual desires for much older men. Read on to find out more...)

***

Amy Lefebvre sat in a deck chair in her backyard on Friday afternoon, and felt supremely contented. The past week—the five days since her eighteenth birthday—was in serious contention for best week of her life. The days had been entirely carefree, filled with hangouts and video games and comics, while the nights been incredibly exciting and maybe a little dangerous, as she went out each evening in search of new sexual partners. She had embraced adulthood with gusto, taking advantage of her new legal status to sleep with a growing collection of older men. In four days, she'd had sex with five men, ranging in age from thirty-six to forty-seven. The men in question had varied widely, from a married banker to a pair of hard-living factory workers. And that was just what she'd hoped for; she wanted to experience the full range of what the world of men had to offer.

So now she lay in recline, appreciating how lucky she'd been and pondering where the future might take her. A perspiring glass of lemonade rested on the chair's arm. Amy was dressed in denim shorts, a white t-shirt, and dark sunglasses. The sun shone brightly overhead; maybe she'd finally get a little colour on her pale skin.

As she speculated idly about where the coming evening might find her, she suddenly felt a small pang of guilt. A number of her classmates were planning on attending a house party that night, and Amy's two best friends, Daisy and Mary, had been deeply disappointed when Amy had said she wouldn't be going with them. She would have loved to, truly; they always had a great time at those things. But she had only a limited amount of time before her dad returned from his vacation to Newfoundland, and she planned to squeeze in as many dalliances with older men as she could in that time. The just-out-of-high-school boys who would be at the party just didn't do it for her.

Amy hoped the girls had fun at the party, and smiled a little wickedly at the thought. The two of them were very different in that respect: Daisy Choi was renowned among the boys of their age group for both her skill at and eagerness to perform blowjobs. Amy had lost count of the number of guys she'd swallowed at this point. Surely she'd find some lucky boy at the party to lavish her attention on. Mary Gilder, on the other hand, had never even kissed a boy as far as Amy was aware, always insisting she "wasn't ready for anything like that", a prudishness that had inevitably earned her the nickname "the Virgin Mary" (which she hated.) She'd have to find something else to entertain her while Daisy did her business. Amy once again felt guilty that she wouldn't be there to keep Mary company.

Stop it! she chided herself, Mary is a grown woman, she doesn't need a babysitter. The girls will get along just fine without me. She couldn't be faulted for wanting some time to herself, she decided. She'd make it up to the girls after her father was back and life had resumed a certain normalcy. She was hoping that she would still be able to find time to steal away for her hookups once routine was restored, but she knew that their frequency would have to decrease dramatically. So she could hardly be blamed for wanting to pack as many as possible into the two-week period that she was in the house alone, with no job and indeed no real responsibilities to speak of whatsoever. In short, there would never be a better time for her to get laid.

So far her strategy had been beautiful in its simplicity: every night that week she had simply headed over to the town's premier watering hole, the Angry Moose, and picked a guy out of the crowd to share the night with. There were always lonely men to be found in a bar. However, she knew that if she continued going regularly, she would probably start running into some of the same men she'd previously slept with, and she wasn't quite sure what she'd do in that situation. She wasn't averse to hooking up with any of them again in the future, but for the moment she was trying to cast her net wide, rack up as many individual experiences as she could, and she wasn't sure how that would play out if there were previous conquests around. She was considering mixing up her playbook a little, starting as simply as checking out one of the handful of other bars in town. Maybe next week, she thought. Tonight at least she hoped to go back to the Moose, to check out the Friday crowd. She took another sip from her drink.

"Well, isn't this a lovely sight!" she heard a voice call from off to her left. She sat and up and turned her head, and sure enough, there he was. Grant McNeely, her handsome fifty-three-year-old neighbour, the man largely responsible for her sexual fixation on older men, looking at her from over the fence that divided their yards.

"If I'd known I'd have an audience, I would have put on my bikini!" she said with a laugh. Something she probably wouldn't have said a week ago. These past few days had really done wonders for her confidence. "How's it going, Grant?"

"Oh, not bad, not bad," he said. "It's Friday night and I just got home from work, so I'm pretty happy."

"What, they didn't give you the day off?"

"Today or yesterday! The plant never sleeps," he said.

"Well, would you care to come over and join me for some lemonade? You've been working so hard, you should relax a little."

"You know, that sounds lovely," he said. "I think I just might." He stepped down and began walking around the fence, and Amy got up to let him in at the gate. As he stepped into the Lefebvre backyard, Amy reached up and wrapped him in a hug, which seemed to take him by surprise, but he returned it after a moment.

"Sit down, make yourself comfortable," said Amy. "Just give me a sec to go inside and get you a glass." She turned and entered the house through the sliding back door, and only then allowed herself to notice how her heart was pounding. She took a deep breath and continued into the kitchen, her hands shaking as she poured a large glass of lemonade. It was happening. The man she had dreamed of all her life was here, in her backyard, just the two of them. She was serving him drinks. And she had never been more terrified in her life.

Just calm down, she told herself. Be cool. Breathe in. Count to ten. He's been over here a million times before, this is nothing special. She still felt incredibly nervous, but had at least managed to get her shaking hands under control by the time stepped back outside and handed Grant his glass. She sat down in the chair next to his.

"I haven't seen your dad around all week," said Grant after taking a sip. "What's he been to?"

"He's clear across the country. On vacation to Newfoundland! It's just me this week and next week, here all alone."

"What? That's incredible! He didn't mention anything about a vacation to me."

"Well, it was a surprise. I'm actually kind of relieved to hear you say that, I was kinda half-worried he'd have asked you check in on me and report to back to him, or something like that."

"Come to think of it, why aren't you out there with him? Kind of odd to go on vacation without your kid, isn't it?"

"I actually wanted it this way! I just turned eighteen and just finished high school, so I wanted to have some time on own, to be the woman of the house. Get a taste of being an adult in charge of my own destiny."

"See, when I was your age—long time ago, now—that meant getting out of the house. The year I turned eighteen, me and my cousins took my Uncle Al's car and drove to the west coast and back. Made it all the way to Nanaimo!"

"Sounds like fun!" said Amy. "I do hope there's some more travelling in my future, but right now, I'm really enjoying just being right here."

"Well, that's good to hear," said Grant. "And I know I already said it the other day, but happy birthday." He raised his glass to her, and she followed suit.

"Thanks!" she said, and drank. "So, did you ever go the other way? You ever make it to Newfoundland?"

"Yes indeed!" said Grant. "I've been to every province and both territories in my time. It's quite a country we've got here."

"This is my dad's first time out East," said Amy. "But I go once or twice a year, to visit my mom."

"I'd forgotten she was out there!" said Grant. "Your dad's not staying with her, is he?"

"Yep, that was his plan."

"Will that not be a little awkward?"

"Oh, they get along pretty good these days. The divorce was finalized, like, eight years ago, they've had a lot of time to calm down. And having thousands of miles between them most of the time helped, I'm sure."

"You don't think they're... getting back together or anything, do you?"

"Oh God, no!" said Amy. "What are you doing, man, making me think about my parents having sex?"

"I said nothing of the sort!" said Grant with a laugh.

"Well, much as I hate to admit, it would probably be good if he had sex with someone on this trip. He hasn't really dated at all since the divorce, I don't think he's gotten laid in years."

"Yeah, I know what that's like," said Grant absently. Then, all of a sudden, he snapped to attention.

"Oh God, what am I saying? Forget I mentioned anything about this, this isn't fit conversation for—"

"For what, Grant? For kids? I'm eighteen now, remember? We're two adults, we should be able to talk about adult things."

"Oh come on, Amy, that's not how it works."

"Of course it is! I'm officially a grownup in every way. I could get married tomorrow, if I wanted to."

"Well, I still feel like it's something I shouldn't have brought up. I just kinda forgot who I was talking to. I mean, you're younger than most of my kids!"

"Speaking of which, where are they right now?"

"They're both out with friends. Patrick's sleeping over at his buddy Simon's place, and Carrie and some girlfriends are getting ready for this big end-of-year party at someone's house or other." Carrie (age eighteen) and Patrick (sixteen) were the youngest of the six McNeely kids, and the only two still living at home.

"Oh yeah, big party at Luke Nixon's place. I heard about it," said Amy.

"Are you going?" said Grant. "Sounds like most of your graduating class will be there. Should be a real rollicking good time."

"No, Daisy and Mary are going, but I'm staying in tonight. I had other plans." Oh boy, have I got plans, she thought.

"Ah, that's a shame," he said. "Sounds like fun. Means I can't ask you to keep her out of trouble for me!"

"Does that mean you trust me more than your own daughter?" said Amy with a laugh. "Do I seem like such a square to you?"

"Oh, it's not that!" said Grant, but he was smiling as he did so. "But I've seen how wild her friends can get when they all get together. Your little trio just always seemed a little more low-key."

"I don't know if anybody's gonna be low-key tonight, if everything I've heard about this party is true."

"And what have you heard"

"Uh-uh-uh, I ain't no narc."

"Alright, alright," he said. "I get it, let the kids have fun, I'm cool with it. I trust Carrie. It's just natural to worry a little over things like this. Don't want her to come home to me pregnant or anything."

"Oh, I don't think there's much chance of that," said Amy with a snort, taking another sip of lemonade.

"What was that?" said Grant. Amy immediately froze up a little. It had apparently been her turn to make an overly intimate remark without thinking.

"Nothing!" said Amy quickly. "Just, you know, she's a good kid. You don't need to be worried about her."

"You panicked a little, just now," said Grant, narrowing his eyes. "I think you meant something else by that remark."

"Nothing!" said Amy again, feeling more panicked by the second. "It's—just a little joke. Forget I said anything."

"Oh come on," he said. "Now you've really piqued my curiosity."

"Look it's—it's not the kind of thing you can discuss with a girl's dad. You don't want to hear it, trust me."

"I just want to know what you were referring to. You said it means she won't get pregnant, so it can't be that bad, can it? Come on, I promise I won't get judgmental or anything."

Amy knew that saying anything would be a bad idea... she was finding it very hard to deny Grant, who had been the object of her affections for so long.

"Look, if she ever finds out I said anything, she will kill me."

"You have my solemn vow," said Grant, raising his right hand, "as long as it doesn't involve anything dangerous or seriously illegal, Carrie will never know that I know what you're about to tell me."

"Alright," Amy began, stumbling over her words awkwardly. "So, like, Carrie—your daughter—well, she's, you know... sexually active."

"I'd surmised as much," said Grant. "It's not the fifties anymore, I'm okay with that, as long as they're careful."

"Yes, mm-hmm, and well, she's, she been... active... with a number of different guys at school."

"And yet you think she's unlikely to get pregnant for some reason?"

"Yeah, she's, uh, she's got this nickname, you see."

"A nickname?"

"They call her, uh... 'Cumshot Carrie.'"

There was a lengthy silence.

"Cumshot Carrie?" He repeated, eventually. Amy began speaking again, much more quickly than she had been before.

"Yeah, it means she likes it when guys, you know, finish on her face and chest. Not inside her. It gets her off. She's kinda well known for it. So, you know. Can't get pregnant from that."

Grant leaned back in his chair, looking incredulous.

"Hey, you asked for this!" said Amy. "You practically begged me to tell you what I meant! You could have just listened to me that it was nothing important, and we could have moved on to other topics."

"You're right, you're right," said Grant. "I suppose I should have listened. But now... Oh god, when I see her face tomorrow..."

"Hey, you made me picture my parents fucking earlier," said Amy. "If I've now made you picture your daughter with jizz on her face, I'd say that makes us even."

Grant looked stunned, and for a moment Amy worried that she had crossed a line. Oh God, what have I done? He's gonna yell at me, he probably hates me now, he'll never speak to me again... but then Grant broke out into a deep belly laugh, and all of the tension immediately dissipated. Amy giggled a little herself, feeling an immense flood of relief.

"Well, Amy," said Grant, finally getting his laughter under control, "I can honestly say this is the most interesting conversation I have had in some time." Amy's heart soared at these words.

"Thanks for inviting me over here," he continued, standing up. "The lemonade was delicious, and your candour had shaken me out of the living coma that works puts me into. I should probably head home, you mentioned earlier that you had plans for this evening..."

"NO!" said Amy, shooting violently up from her chair. He looked started by her sudden reaction. She cursed herself inwardly for losing her cool.

"Forget my plans," she said, "I've been having a really good time with you. You should stay, we could—we could order a pizza or something." She cursed herself again. Order a pizza? Yeah, that'll convince him that you're a mature young woman worth paying attention to... but then Grant smiled.

"That sounds lovely," he said, "as long as you don't mind spending your evening with an old fart like me."

"Please," she said, "you're, like, the coolest guy I know." She blushed a little as she spoke. Feeling a sudden burst of confidence, she reached out her hand toward him, leaning forward slightly in a kind of mock-bow. He grinned and took her hand (causing a little thrill to run through her) and then leaned forward as if to kiss it. Her heart skipped a beat, but he stopped an inch or two shy of making contact with her skin. They both straightened, and she led him into the house.

***

An hour later, the two of them sat around the Lefebvre kitchen table, finishing the pizza and sipping glasses of coke. Amy couldn't believe how well the night was going. She had interacted with Grant in social situations all her life, but the two of them had rarely (if ever) been alone together for any extended period of time in the past. She had worries that, with no one else around, he might get bored with her, or regard her only as a little kid, not to be taken seriously. But she had now successfully held his attention all evening, and as time went on he seemed to be engaging with her more and more as an equal. It felt almost too good to be true. Finally, during a lull in the conversation, Grant leaned back and let out a contented sigh.

"This is really is just what I needed tonight," he said. "I was feeling in a bit of a rut after the week I'd had at work. I should've known, you can always count on the Lefebvres to shake things up a bit. We've always been lucky to have you guys next door."

"You make us sound like we're the most exciting people in town," said Amy. "You know my dad sells insurance, right?"

"Hey, that sounds more interesting than what I do."

"You work up at the sheet metal plant, right?"

"Thirty-four years," he said. "I started at the bottom, about as low as you can get, just doing grunt work on the factory floor. Slowly worked my way up to the bigger and better positions. Nine years ago they took me off the floor and gave me a cushy office job, doing sales. They money's good, and it's nice not having to do manual labour every day, but dear lord is it dull. Some days all I want to do is go back downstairs and actually do something, you know?"

"Yeah, I hear you," said Amy. "It's stuff like that that makes me really unsure of what I want to do with my life. It seems like all the high-paying, non-dangerous jobs are also boring as fuck."

"So you don't have any idea where your future is headed?" said Grant.

"Not really. I'm planning on trying to get a job soon, spend the next year or so figuring things out."

"Well, nothing wrong with that. I didn't go to college or university when I was young, and things turned out pretty well for me."

"I know a lot of older people like that," said Amy. "These days, it seems like everyone is expected to go to university. I don't get it. Seems like there's a lot of other ways you could live your life. Not that I'm judging or anything. My brother is in university, and my best friends are both going in September."

"Oh yeah? Where are they headed?"

"Mary's going to U of M, Daisy's going all the way out to UBC. But I don't think either of them has a super clear career path planned out either."

"It's a shame, everybody going their separate ways like that," said Grant. "I've got kids living in three different provinces at this point!"

"Some people can't wait to get away," said Amy. "But me, I like it here."

"I'll drink to that!" said Grant, taking another sip of coke.

"You want to move to the living room?" said Amy. "Got comfy on the couch?"

"Well, sure," said Grant, "as long as you don't mind having me around. I really don't mind heading back to my place, if there's something else you'd rather be doing."

"Oh believe me, Grant," she said, getting up and leading the way, "there is nothing that I would rather be doing right now than this."