Being of Service Ch. 02

This is a sequel to the first part of "Being of Service." Suffice it to say, read the first part first! If you have, you can skip this paragraph summary of the first part...

Shelly, an old high school girlfriend, had gone her separate way after graduation. I didn't hear from her, though heard from others that she had become a lesbian and was living in Seattle. I was surprised when she called me twenty years later, to tell me she and her partner wanted a child. When I found out they wanted Shelly to get pregnant the natural way, I opened my mouth to say no, but out came yes, even though I had had a vasectomy and knew I could not get her pregnant. Okay, I'm an asshole who thinks women are objects. But how often has a lesbian asked you for a sperm donation? Yeah, thought so. I wanted to say no, but instead my little head said yes. I justified my decision because they were treating me as a sperm bank. That's an object, isn't it? Did she love me? Did she want me to be happy? No, she just wanted my wiggles and jiggles to get what she wanted...

*****

Shelly was coming to visit again. It was the sixth. The previous times Susan had come, too. But Susan couldn't pull off yet another two days away from work. I met Shelly, alone, at the airport.

"Good to see you," I said, trying to smile.

I had just received a phone call from Susan, threatening to kill me if anything happened to her precious Shelly.

I had had enough, and without Susan it was going to be easier. I was ready to relieve myself of my guilt, about my vasectomy. I was going to tell her.

"Good to see you, too," Shelly whispered, bending forward then leaning into me for a kiss on the lips.

It surprised me, not the kiss, just the lips, and the length, and the sensuality. I opened my mouth as her arousal spread to me. She pulled away, looked nervously around.

"Not here," she giggled nervously.

I opened her door and waited. She slid onto the big front seat of the 1965 Lincoln Continental. It was the same car I drove ten years ago in high school. I'd bought it from my dad. I had the roof down. I tossed her luggage in the back seat.

"What d'ya think?" I asked, closing her door. "You won't be too cold?"

She smiled, shook her head, and I was a nervous senior all over again. I ran to the other side, got behind the wheel.

"Takes you back, doesn't it," I said.

Shelly ran her fingers delicately along the dashboard, then down across the push-buttons for the radio.

"Is this...," she started.

"Yeah," I interrupted.

She looked at me with eyes that lit my fire. I put the key in the ignition and cranked up the rumbling engine. I looked at her and smiled.

"You remember?" she asked, sliding over next to me on that long, front bench seat.

I put it in gear and punched the accelerator, jerking the car towards the exit. Shelly let the sudden power take her, put her head back and laughed. As we picked up speed on the on-ramp, her beautiful hair floated above and behind her. She moved closer. I reached across her to turn on the heat. She put her hand on my hip. I flinched.

"Shelly..." I stumbled.

"It's okay," she said, giving my leg a squeeze. "It feels good not to have Susan lording between us."

It was true. Susan was always keeping us apart, even when we fucked. The butch had never been as enthusiastic about having a child, about Shelly getting pregnant, about me getting her pregnant.

Shelly's finger drew a line down my leg, then moved down to the inside of my thigh. Her long, pink fingernails scraped along as she headed to my crotch. I tried not to notice, just kept driving, working to keep my speed constant. And I did, until her hand reached my ball sack, which she cupped and pressed gently. The Lincoln jerked forward.

"Shelly..."

I wasn't comfortable with her being so friendly. Even though I knew we were heading to my house to spend the week trying to get her pregnant. The previous times had been very formal and mechanical. This was more... personal.

"Did we ever do it," she asked, giving me another squeeze that shot the Lincoln forward again. "Did we..." She looked up at my face, "in the car?"

I snorted.

"Don't you remember? We never did it anywhere!"

I nervously flicked on the lights, caught myself just as I almost tried to put the top up.

"I was a bewildered nerd," I said.

I was relaxed with a sense of calm at being able to say it, aloud, the shame of my teenage sexual prowess now shared with the one girl I would have liked to have been my first. I glanced down at her.

In the evening light, Shelly's face was magical, as if it hadn't changed, not in all those years. I looked into her eyes and felt my stomach churn. I wish I had made love to her, back then, in the car, in my bedroom, in my locker! She squeezed my ball sack, again.

"If you keep doing that, I'm going to fuck you right now."

I tried to say "fuck" like it was dirty and I were a tough guy, but it just came out like a weakling, a nerd. My shoulders slumped. She squeezed my ball sack again. I looked down and she had an impish grin.

"You asked for it!" I said.

I yanked the steering wheel, crossed three lanes of traffic. Shelly screamed. I made the off ramp, barely missing the crash barrels, and squeaking in front of a honking car. I barreled down the exit, slid into a right turn. I knew there was a park just a few blocks away. I pulled off the road, drove down the lane, jerked the car left, into an empty parking lot, pulled to a stop in a space facing the pond.

I stopped the engine, put off the lights, turned, and yanked her to me. I thought I might have hurt her, but she just laughed. She was suddenly silenced as I pressed my lips into hers. We kissed, our lips and tongues furiously making a our faces slippery.

She melted back, sliding down the leather seat until she was on her back. Her knee was up, her dress to her waist, her legs spread. I rolled on top of her, pressing the bulge in my pants into her frilly, rose-colored panties. She made no effort to resist. She really wanted me to fuck her, right here, in the open, in the car.

My eyes swept around the empty lot. I thought about putting up the roof, but she was already tugging at my belt, pushing my pants down. I looked around, then slid down my underwear while Shelly yanked her panties over her feet. I stared at the darkness of her naked crotch. She wiggled down. I saw a glint of light reflected in her moisture before she wrapped her legs behind my butt, poking me in the ass until I was down on top of her.

I'd never made love in a car before, much less a convertible out in the open. I was sure I would be too nervous. But the thrill and excitement I felt quivering in Shelly's body quickly focused me. I gasped as I easily plunged inside her and started pumping. A couple ravaging thrusts and I was shooting my load. I realized too late that I was only thinking of myself. I opened my eyes to find Shelly staring, terrified.

"Sorry," I said.

But her eyes never budged, and then I saw a shadow move. There was somebody there, right beside the car. I had no idea what I should do. What if it was a policeman? What if I got a ticket?

"Get off me," Shelly growled, angry and impatient at my inaction. "Now!"

The hair on the back of my neck stood on end. She was really scared. I pushed myself away, sat up. It was the last thing I remember. There was a flash as something whacked my head and knocked me out.

When I woke up, Shelly was stroking my head, shaking, crying.

"Shelly?"

I tried to move, but I wasn't sure which way was up, so I lay my head back down. She stroked my head, bent over and kissed me, and kept crying.

"I'm so glad..." she whimpered, then burst into tears.

We lay there for a long time. Slowly, the dizziness was replaced by a pounding headache. Shelly was still weeping.

"What's wrong," I said, knowing something was up. "Shelly?"

I sat up, overcoming the spike that was going through my head. Shelly was crying. As my eyes focused, I saw her dress was torn. I followed the pieces as they lead to her crotch. Even in this light I could make out the claw marks on her legs. I felt like I was going to throw up.

"What happened?"

It was a stupid question. She answered by holding her arms and head away from her own body, like it had some disease. I spun around, looking for the bastard that had raped her.

All I saw were shadows, every one of them filled with a man waiting to rape Shelly. Shaking, I pulled myself behind the wheel, started the car. I kept watch over the shadows as we waited for the roof to grind into place.

That weekend Shelly rarely left the bathroom. I wanted to call the police, but Shelly said no, that she was scared of Susan's reaction, who would blame herself, and me, for not being there to protect her. Besides, how was Shelly going to explain why we were pulled over in a deserted parking lot. And what if they caught the guy, and he told what he had seen. No, Shelly was going to keep it a secret. She swore me to secrecy, too.

Two weeks later I got the call. It was Susan.

"She's pregnant! She's pregnant!"

The partner that hadn't been thrilled about having a child was overcome with excitement.

"Thank you, thank you, thank you," she said.

Susan, the butch, started to cry, so she put Shelly on the phone.

"Hey," she said.

"Hey," I said.

I heard Susan's cheering fade away in the background as Shelly moved to a more private room.

"Shelly..." I began.

I started to tell her, I wanted to tell her.

"I'm sure it's yours. I'm sure of it," she interrupted.

"Shelly..." I began again.

"He used a condom. I know he did. He had to, didn't he? Or else there would be evidence. And he wouldn't be that stupid."

We were both quiet for a long time. But I didn't say anything. I couldn't bring myself to say anything. It had gone too far. My lie had grown into a nightmare and now the truth would hurt so many people. I didn't say anything, because I am a shithead.

"Thank you," Shelly said, crying now, too. "Thank you!"

There was another long pause, but I knew I wasn't going to say anything.

"We're going to name him William," she cried, "after you."

"Yeah," I said, "Thanks," keeping the phone to my ear long after she had hung up.