Blowing Jennifer's Mind Ch. 01

Jennifer snorted.

"So yeah..." Mike gulped down the rest of his beer, then poured some more into his glass. "Then my cousin died of a heart attack when he was sixty-two."

"Your cousin was sixty-two? How old was she?"

Mike tried to estimate Jennifer's age. His mother would turn fifty this year, and Jennifer looked younger. Mike liked the hunt, or fishing, as he called it. Gently reeling in a fish without losing it. But this wasn't some half-drunk skank at a bar. He had to be extra careful. "When my cousin died, Priscilla was...? I dunno. She was old. Forty...five-ish?... I think." He made a so-so gesture.

"Forty-five and old, hmmm... That makes fifty-five-year-old me feel ancient."

Shit! He was off by miles. Jennifer had a twelve-year-old granddaughter; of course, she was over fifty. He cursed himself for being an idiot. "Fifty-five? Whaaaat? I honestly thought you were like thirty, thirty-plus..."

"I'm thirty-plus." She batted her eyelashes. "Thirty plus twenty-five. So your forty-five-ish second cousin once removed in-law was sending you inappropriate signals. Then what?"

"Oh, she wasn't just sending signals." Mike wiggled his eyebrows. "A few months after the funeral, we went all the way. We did it in the stables, the grieving widow and me."

"Priscilla was a pedophile?"

Mike pulled back. "I was eighteen."

"Your point being?"

"You know what a pedophile is, don't you, Jennifer?"

"A guy who wants to star on To Catch a Predator, right?" she said. "I'm no expert; we didn't have that many of them when I was a kid."

"Poor thing. You had to buy your own candy?"

She chortled. "So, not a pedophile, but definitely a sexual predator."

"Hey, hey," Mike raised his palms defensively. "If Priscilla was a predator, then I must've been the first gazelle in world's history to jump into the lioness's maw willingly. And I'm not gonna tell you if you're going to be like that."

"Oh, come on."

"Nope."

"Pretty please?" Jennifer said in a childish voice, pressing her palms together.

"I seem to have piqued your interest."

"My interest is indeed piqued."

He hoped he'd piqued something else. "Anyway, so like I said, we did it once, in the barn, and she sort of took me. It was hot."

"What do you mean she took you?" Jennifer had drunk only had one beer, but her neck was flushed red.

"Well, you know how futanari girls get sometimes."

"Do I?"

He flicked some beer in her direction. "A lot of you girls like to dominate, you know, be on top. So one minute we were all over each other, the next she turned me around, pushed me against the wall, pulled down my pants and was like inside me, taking me." Mike's eyes opened as if he were savoring a pleasant memory. "It was super-hot."

"A forty-five-year-old futa taking an innocent eighteen-year-old boy. Sounds a little rapey."

"Tell you what. If Priscilla called right now to ask if she could rape me like that one more time, I'd be on a plane home in two seconds."

"Nice story." Jennifer grabbed another beer from the fridge but didn't open it. Instead, she pressed the cold bottle to her forehead. A tinge of red was definitely spreading across her neck and cheeks. Mike wasn't sure, but he glanced down and thought he saw a bulge in her crotch area.

They were cooking with gas now.

"Can you do me a big favor, sweetie?"

"Anything." He leaned forward with an enthusiastic smile.

"Can you open the Ikea bookshelf and be sure I have all the pieces? I hate to bother you like this, you being so sweet and all. But it would be a big help. I can't read the little letters on the instructions anymore, and I must've misplaced my glasses."

What the fuck?

Mike was standing on the living room floor a minute later, pulling out small, sealed plastic bags and counting the pieces. Where the hell had he gone wrong? He'd given all the right signals; she'd sent him all the right vibes. He hadn't expected her to rip off his clothes and take him on the kitchen island. Fifty-five-year-old women probably didn't do that. But he expected her to move in the right direction. He certainly didn't expect to build a damn bookshelf.

"Hey, you left your phone on the counter." Jennifer surprised him by sneaking up behind him. She held her right hand behind her back and handed him his phone with her left.

"Thanks! Happens to me all the time. When I was in high school, I lost a cell phone every week."

"I've a surprise for you, Mike. Turn around."

He turned around and was surprised beyond measure. Jennifer pulled a baseball bat with a red tip out from behind her back.

"Whoa!" He chortled. "I know when you're assembling Ikea furniture, sometimes you want to bash the damn thing, but we ain't there yet."

She gave the bat a swing over his head. "I didn't get Betty out of her closet so I could break the bookshelf."

"Betty?"

Jennifer patted the bat's head. "She's been with me for forty years, through thick and thin. So I named her. Betty, this is Bullshit Mike. Mike, this is Betty. Soon you'll get to know each other more intimately."

"What?" He straightened up.

"Sit down, asswipe." She pointed Betty toward the sofa. Gone was the sweet smiling lady of a moment ago. A pissed-off version of Harley Queen stood in her place.

"Jennifer, what're you...?"

She swung the bat close to his head, close enough that he could feel the wind whistling. He raised his palms like he was in a heist. "Jennifer, wait! What're you talking about?"

"Sweetie, you can drop the act. I knew you were full of shit from the moment you got here. I saw you cruising by yesterday in a sports car."

"Me?"

"No, your evil identical twin." She touched his chest with the bat. "I thought I might be wrong, but then you said I had a futanari daughter. I never told you my daughter was a futa. Or that I had a daughter."

"It's pretty obvious that you're not the only person living in this house." He took a step back, and she followed, the bat raised to shoulder height.

"So, a lucky guess?" She grinned.

"Yeah, that's a reasonable--"

"And the fact that someone called Iceman on your phone texted you the address of my house is also a lucky guess? Maybe he's a psychic?"

Fuck!

"Look, Jennifer, it's not what you think--" Mike took a step back, his legs bumping against the black sofa, and he had to sit down. "This ain't cool. All I did was help you put your groceries in the fridge."

"And all I'm gonna do is break your kneecaps unless you come clean this instant. What's the game plan here, Mike? If Mike is even your real name."

"Game plan?"

"It's a heist, right?" She sniffed the air like a hound. "It smells like a heist."

"What?"

"Telling me bullshit stories about made-up futanari cousins and sniffing my dress for an erection. What did you think? I'd jump you and we'd fuck each other's brains out while your Iceman buddy cleaned the house? A stupid plan, by the way."

"I... I'm not a thief." He tried to stand up. Jennifer growled, and he immediately sat back down. "Come on, don't be like that."

"My grandchildren live in this house. You have no idea how I can be when I feel my family is threatened."

"That's just silly. You've seen my face, I'm a student. Delta Kappa Epsilon fraternity--you can check me out. It would make zero sense to rob you knowing I live five minutes from here. Look at me, Jennifer; I'm harmless."

She eyed him thoroughly, then picked up her cell phone. "Don't move!"

"Are you calling the police?"

"I said, don't move!" she growled. "Hey, hon, it's me," Jennifer said to the person on the other end of the line. "Are you at the office? Super. I need you to check something for me, and I know it's gonna sound weird, but please, be a sport. Yeah. A guy named Mike... Wolf?" She looked at him questioningly.

He nodded. "Wolf. Mike Wolf." He remembered that her daughter worked at the Student Affairs Office, and he sighed with relief. His original plan had been to give her a fake name.

"Can you check to see if Mike Wolf is a student there? An economics major. Yes, I know it's a weird question, Daphne, but for once in your life can you trust your mom and do what she asks? I just wanna know if he's a student, nothing illegal. Uh-huh. Yep, I'm waiting." She absentmindedly swung the bat. "Thanks, sweetie, that wasn't so hard now, was it?" She sighed. "Your story checked out."

"Can I go now?"

"Can I go now?" She mimicked his high-strung voice and went even higher in tone. "So this was some kind of stupid fraternity prank?"

"Prank?"

"I've lived in this town for thirty years," Jennifer said. "I've seen a few. None as fucked as this one."

"It's a bet." He said quickly. "It's me against my fraternity. The Bangaroo Challenge."

"The Bangawhat?"

Mike winced. The next few minutes weren't going to be a walk in the park. "Each member of the fraternity puts a hundred and fifty dollars in the betting pool. Then they pick a target."

"A target? You mean a girl?"

"But not just any girl," he tried a smile. "She has to be a challenge. Someone outside the comfort zone of the guy taking the challenge."

"What challenge?"

He smiled apologetically.

"Well?" she said in a sharp voice. Then she must've figured it out, because her mouth twisted in disgust. "Bangaroo as in banging. Why me, Mike?"

"Well--"

"Be very careful." She raised the bat. "I know people."

"I don't."

She didn't smile, not a good sign.

"Look, I know it sounds made up," he said.

"I wonder why. You being so honest and all."

"Look." He showed Jennifer his cell phone. "This is Iceman on his last Bangaroo Challenge." He showed a selfie of a tall, handsome, broad-shouldered guy, naked and in bed. His hand clasped a naked blonde.

"Hey, that's the weather girl from Channel 32," Jennifer said.

Mike showed her another photo. "That's me on my last challenge."

Naked Mike in bed with a huge naked redhead. The girl looked to be at least six feet five, probably taller. It was easy to guess what the challenge was because Mike was average height. Different girl, same pose.

Jennifer frowned. "She's not a futanari."

"I never said I was only into futanari," Mike said. "Besides, I can't pick my target. That would be stupid."

"Because the rest of it sounds like it was made up by Albert Einstein."

He showed her some more pictures of different guys and various selfies.

"What's with the nude bed selfie?"

He locked his phone. He should have put it on auto lock a long time ago, if only he weren't so lazy. "You've gotta give proof that you and the target have been doing the nasty. If you can't take a naked selfie in bed in five days, you've lost the bet."

"And then what?" asked Jennifer.

"You pay half the total amount of the betting pool to the fraternity, and they spend the total amount on your Humiliation Party."

"Jesus, you college dicks have way too much free time on your hands. What's a Humiliation Party?"

He showed her a video of Iceman's humiliation party from a year ago. The guy was standing in a plastic kiddie pool, the water up to his knees. He wore a pirate hat that said "LOSER," fins on his feet, a tiny red thong with ribbons, and nothing else.

"What're they throwing at him?" she asked.

"Beer, toilet paper, used condoms. Shit like that."

"Classy and mature."

Mike smiled weakly. "I guess you've never been to college."

"Don't be a condescending prick." She tossed Betty, the baseball bat, onto the other sofa. "You're a fricking idiot, you know that? All of you."

"I should have come out with it sooner."

"Then I'd have kicked your skinny ass out the door."

He raised his finger as if he were in class. "Yeah. I think that was the reason I didn't. Maybe we...?"

"Maybe we what?" She put on a disgusted face again.

"This is new territory for me because I've never had a girl get the truth out of me with a baseball bat. But now that you know, I'm not suggesting we do it. But..." he paused. "We can pose naked in bed for the selfie. No one has to know the truth."

"And in other news, Honest Mike is very open to the idea of cheating on his douchebag friends. What a shocker. Are you a complete moron, Mike?"

"Yeah. Got a tough question? I'll give you..." he quickly scanned the old house, thinking about the jalopy she was driving. A hundred dollars was probably a great deal for her. "I'll give you two hundred dollars."

"For me to take a humiliating picture with you?"

"Three hundred."

She sat down across from him on the sofa, a wooden coffee table between them. She still looked mighty pissed, but her brow furrowed as if she weren't quite dismissing the idea out of hand. Mike felt a glimmer of hope. "What's the total share?" she asked.

"One thousand dollars," he said.

She pursed her mouth in disgust. "A thousand doesn't divide by a hundred and fifty, idiot. You're such a lousy liar."

"I meant a thousand dollars, give or take."

"Shut the fuck up." She reached for her phone again. "Hey, sweetie, it's me again. I've another weird question for you. Yeah. Delta Kappa Epsilon fraternity. Have you...?... It's...? Senator Durham? Really? Oh, so it's like a fraternity for idiots with rich fathers." She nodded. "So like spoilt douchebags with loaded parents." She looked at Mike. "That makes perfect sense. And how many students are there in this chapter? Sixty-seven? Wow, that's a big number. Thanks, sweetie. I'll see you tonight."

Jennifer calculated with her fingers. "One hundred and fifty dollars times sixty-seven. Take the one... Adds up to a little over ten grand in the betting pool." She smiled triumphantly. "One thousand dollars, give or take, huh?"

"Give or take nine thousand dollars." He gave her what he hoped was an apologetic smile now that he was caught.

"You're something else, Mike."

"Minus my own one hundred and fifty. So it's really only nine thousand nine hundred."

"And in other news, Mike can actually do math when he feels the numbers aren't going his way." She took a deep breath. "I'll do it for six thousand."

"What?" he yelled out.

"Six thousand five hundred?"

"Are you nuts? That's twice my share."

Jennifer shrugged. "Seven thousand."

"I'll give you one thousand dollars. And that's fair. One grand just for posing in bed for ten seconds."

"Eight thousand."

"I'll give you one thousand five hundred, and that's as high as I'm willing to go."

Jennifer took Betty and pounded the handle like a gavel on the wooden coffee table. "Not sold! Nine thousand."

"I suspect you don't really get the gist of the interaction normal people call negotiations."

Jennifer showed him her middle finger. "Ten thousand dollars paid up front. That's my final offer."

"Fuck off."

"No fucking, sweetie, just the selfie. Ten thousand dollars; take it or leave it."

He rose to his feet. "I'm leaving now. Because, no offense, but you're an idiot, Jennifer."

"Ten grand is a fair deal."

Mike headed for the door. "I get zero, and you get everything? Yeah, best deal ever. Did you learn your negotiating skills from Joseph Stalin?"

Jennifer also rose to her feet. "No selfie means you pay half the amount at the betting pool. The way I see it, I'm saving you almost five thousand dollars plus one Humiliation Party."

He paused and considered. He'd never lost a challenge before, so he forgot to consider the penalty for losing. He didn't have that kind of money, which meant he'd have to beg his father again. The thought of making that call to his dad made his belly churn.

"Nope," he finally said.

"Really?"

"No deal, Jennifer."

"Wow. You're really willing to lose five grand and your dignity just so I don't get anything."

"Yep," he said.

"So, petty and vindictive goes hand in hand with a liar and a douchebag. Figures."

At the door, he paused. "You know, Jennifer, it didn't have to go this way."

"You mean you could've been honest and generous instead of being a total douche?" She scanned his face. "Let me be skeptical."

"You act like I just grilled a baby on the barbecue and ate it in a bun with ketchup. All I wanted was for you and me to have a little fun, that's all."

She gave a derisive snort. "You wanted the money and the respect from your fraternity goons. Have you ever been with a futanari?"

"What?"

"Aside from imaginary cousins in bullshit stories."

"She wasn't...." Mike bared his teeth in a snarl. "Priscilla's real. And I've dated futanari girls before. I had a futanari girlfriend."

"Sure."

"She said I was the best sex she'd ever had."

Jennifer put her thumb under her chin. "That's me being skeptical again."

"Fuck you, Jennifer; I'd have rocked your world. I'd have knocked your socks off. Blown your mind."

She sent him an air kiss. "You better get going, sweetie, before your head gets too big to carry."

"I've been voted the hottest guy on campus twice. Wanna see my Tinder account? Chicks forget which side is left when they see my eight pack."

"Ugh." She heaved a deep sigh and scanned him again from top to bottom. "Okay, obviously I'm gonna regret this, but I'll let you take a shot."

"And you know something else, Jennifer..." He paused. "Wait, wait, what? You're going to do what?"

"Let you take a shot. I'm not getting any money, obviously. So maybe there's a small chance, I really doubt it, that you can use that pretty mouth of yours for anything other than lying and empty boasting. If you manage to blow my mind..." She mimed a bomb going off at her temple and added explosion sound effects. "Shit, why not? If you make it, I'll pose for that stupid selfie."

"Like for no money? Just sex?"

"If you can blow my mind."

"Are you kidding me?"

She sighed. "I'm going upstairs to my room. You can come up or fuck off. Your choice." Jennifer turned and started walking up the spiral staircase.

What the fuck?

Mike stood stunned on the doorstep. Never in his life had a girl or woman unnerved him like this.

Who the fuck did she think she was?

He was Mike Wolf, the Big Bad Wolf of Delta Kappa Epsilon. Champion of the Bangaroo Challenge. He could chew up and spit out ten girls ten times hotter and younger than her before breakfast.

Fuck this woman. He'd bang her so hard and so fast granny would have a heart attack. He was going to unleash the wolf on her.

Awooooooo.

He ran up the stairs, all fired up and ready to blow, going full speed into an empty bedroom. The wall was covered with a colorful scene from Finding Nemo. On the windowsill was a bowl. In it, a small goldfish swam on its side. There was a bunk bed in the room and two tons of toys lying around. He stepped on a Moana doll that went beep.

Oops.

Back down the hall, he entered another bedroom. A king-size bed took up most of the space, leaving just enough room for a closet on one side and a nightstand on the other, piled high with magazines. Jennifer stood with her back to him, looking out the window.

He suddenly realized that she was looking at the driveway, waiting for him to leave the house. Maybe she thought he wouldn't follow her up the stairs.

"Hey," he said, suddenly less secure.

She turned around with a surprised look on her face. "Hey, I didn't really... Sorry about the mess."

"What?"

"Can you step outside for two minutes? I want to tidy up."

"What the fuck are you talking about? This is the tidiest room I've ever seen."

"I haven't had a visitor since... Oh, never mind." She pointed at the door. "Off, you fuck. I'll call you when I'm done."

"Whatever." He stepped outside, waited what felt like two minutes, then called out, "May I come in?"

"Jesus, you've got the patience of a goldfish. Okay, come in."

He hoped she'd spent the time picking out hot lingerie, but no luck. She'd changed the sheets, the magazines were gone, and she'd opened the curtains.