Fooled Me Twice Pt. 01

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All characters in this novel are fictional, yet the settings are geographically accurate. This story is a dramatic mystery, with two romantic storylines, science fiction, and loads of erotic sex, including lesbian love, threesomes, and some B&D. No sex happens until Chapter 5, and no one under 18 is involved in the sex parts. I promise there is plenty of sex throughout the novel.

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I'm Martin Robert Lawrence Stevens, but I go by Marty, and this story is about my life, not all of it, just the good parts. Today's date is September 2nd, 2062, and I am sixty-six. Facts for this story came from journals I kept, ending when my eldest daughter graduated from high school. I decided to start writing my memoirs after receiving a letter mailed by my first wife, Liz, postmarked five days before I received it. Unfortunately, there was one major problem, Liz died forty years earlier.

So don't overthink what I've just written; please enjoy reading about my life because I enjoyed living it.

*****

I was born on the 5^th of July, 1995. You probably thought I would say born on the 4^th of July, but I missed that honor by three minutes. I heard many years later that Momma was very upset and tried to get the doctor to change the time.

My memories of growing up begin at the start of seventh grade, probably because that's when I started keeping a journal. My first entry was about the dance lessons Momma insisted I take because being able to dance would be valuable to me as an adult.

Or, as she told me, "Have you ever seen people that are excellent dancers with frowns on their faces?"

I couldn't argue with that statement, so grudgingly, I took lessons for several years. The dance studio belonged to Madame Carlisle, who settled in my hometown when her family emigrated from Hungary in the 50s. My dance classes were every Tuesday and Thursday evening. After my first lesson, I realized that most of the class consisted of older women like my mother, with large pillows on their chests for me to rest my head against during slow dances. I loved the fast dances because my partner's body parts were flapping around. Yes, I was a teenage pervert and loved every minute of dance class.

Momma also made me attend one of her meetings with the Fine Arts Society (F ART S). After that evening, I volunteered and almost begged to go with her. The members made up a delightful cross-section of women, ages twenty-five to seventy-five, my favorite age range for women. When Momma let me out of my chair, I began practicing the fine art of schmoozing.

My favorite patron of the arts was Mrs. Olivia Goldrake. 'Mama mia,' if Sir Isaac Newton had met Olivia, he would have questioned whether gravity could exist. When I directed my charm at her, she looked at me like a lioness glaring at her next meal.

*****

At this time, formal introductions are in order. Alexander Stevens is my father, but he goes by Alex and is the vice president and CFO of Stevens Aerospace and Defense, located in Greenville, South Carolina. That's his last name on the company stationery, but his older brother Bob is the president and CEO.

My momma, the Grande Dame of our household, is Darla Coleen Montgomery-Stevens, housewife,

mother, and mistress of the credit card. Her motto is "You earn it, and I'll spend it, and if I'm happy, you will be compensated with my charms, if you know what I mean." The first time I heard that statement, I had no clue what she meant. But, in the not-so-distant future, I would come to understand money was not the only currency in the world of grown-ups.

My parents, three sisters, and I lived in a comfortable five-bedroom home in a suburb of Greenville. I loved my sisters but couldn't stand to be around them. Dianna, or D as I called her, was older than me by almost seven years. Dixie was a year younger than me, and Danni followed Dixie by a year.

Did Momma and Dad stop having sex with each other in the years between Dianna's and my birth? I'll never know because I'm not bat shit crazy enough to ask Momma that question.

*****

The two years between the summer after seventh grade and the summer before tenth grade were uneventful years for me. I was a typical horny teenage boy going through puberty, and my height finally caught up with the girls my age. I had one exceptional erotic memory during that period of time and never told anyone about it until I started writing.

A year before she graduated college, Dianna was home for her last free summer before getting married. Her fiancé, Joe, was off on a one-month cruise because he was in Naval ROTC at Chapel Hill. So one Saturday, while he was gone, Dianna went out to hang with some of her girlfriends from high school. Well, that's what she told Momma, but I found out the truth later that night.

The phone rang at 10:45, and I answered on the first ring because I was expecting a call from a girl; okay, I was hoping for a phone call from a girl. Not unexpectedly, the girl on the other end of the line wasn't the girl I was hoping would call. It was Mindy McDonald, Dianna's BFF in high school.

"Marty, you need to drive to Ray's Roadhouse as fast as you can get here to rescue your drunk sister. We're hiding her in the ladies' room because she's been dancing and flirting with the usual scum that comes to this shit hole bar."

"Do you mean that dive near Simpsonville? That place is a slaughterhouse. What the hell are you doing there?"

"I wanted to go to the Tigers' Den, but Dianna insisted that she wanted to go here because she took a dare from a girl in her sorority."

"That would be Jenny, the bitch, and I'll bet she's not there, is she? Crap, she's lucky Momma and Dad are asleep. I'll be there in 20 minutes. Does anyone else need a ride, and are their bouncers working tonight?"

"No, the rest of us can fit in Joan's car, and there are three huge guys that keep fights from breaking out."

"Good, I don't have to bring my shotgun."

I got there in 12 minutes and parked right next to the entrance. As I walked through the front doorway, I was stopped by bouncer number one, "You're not old enough to be here, kid; go home."

"I'm here to pick up my sister, who is feeling no pain and is hiding in the Ladies' Room. One of her girlfriends called me and said she was dirty dancing with the wrong guys."

"Oh, that group. Tell them don't ever come back here because I don't need the aggravation."

He made hand signals to another bouncer, who walked down a hallway across the room.

How did I know these two were bouncers? Because they were big, ugly, and stupid-looking assholes, and being a bouncer was probably the only job they were qualified for.

A minute later, bouncer number two escorted Mindy, and Joan, another high school friend, to the exit door, and two other girls I had never met were dragging Dianna behind them. They jammed her into the passenger seat of Dad's pickup truck, and I pulled out of the lot, heading for home. In my rearview mirror, I saw the girls running for a car, and as the last girl got in, men started pouring out of the bar. I pulled over a mile down the road to lock Dianna into the seatbelt and shoulder harness and watched Joan's car speed past me.

Driving off again, I looked straight ahead, keeping my left hand on the wheel and holding Dianna up with my right arm, pinning her against the door.

When I arrived home, I parked in Dad's usual spot in front of the house and got out to help Dianna walk to her bedroom. Unfortunately, I couldn't get her to move or wake up, so I resorted to trickery. I whispered in her right ear, "Lady Di, this is Joe. I can't carry you, Baby, so you'll have to walk. But, if you walk for me, I'll shave off my mustache."

"Oh, Joe, you'd do that for me? Your mustache looks silly on your face. Please shave it off."

"Yes, Baby, I will." Sorry Joe, but she is correct about those whiskers.

She fell out of the passenger seat into my arms, and with my left arm around her waist and her right arm around my neck, we staggered up the front porch stairs. I pushed the front door open and helped her up and over the stoop. Then, after closing the door with my foot, we swayed back and forth down the hallway until we reached her bedroom. I was getting tired and barely made it to her bed before she collapsed on me. I tried to swing her around, so her feet were on the bed, and somehow she started wrestling with me, and I ended up on my back with her draped across my chest.

I managed to roll her off me without exposing a lot of skin before straightening her up on the bed and covering her up.

As I left her room, shutting the door, I heard her say, "I love you, Joe."

Success! Since it was after midnight, I went to bed and fell asleep thinking about the girl who didn't call me.

Now you may wonder, why is a 14-year-old driving his father's pickup truck? Because of an unwritten and unspoken handshake law in the south, male children can get away with driving without a license as long as they obey all speed limits and traffic signs. This was because many sons, as young as 12,

worked on the farm and needed to operate various vehicles on the county roads.

It was close to 11 o'clock when I got up and went to find something to eat in the kitchen. Dianna was nursing a cup of black coffee and appeared to have a big headache. She didn't mention the previous night, and I didn't bring it up. However, I did hear her ask Dixie if Joe had been home yesterday. Before I heard Dixie's reply, I walked away quickly, afraid my facial expression would give me away.

*****

A year went by, and Dianna only spoke about that night once more. Three days after graduating, she took me to the mall to carry boxes of special order candle holders to the truck. I saw her talking to Mindy while I hauled the last box to the car, and my mind was elsewhere, so I didn't think anything about it. That evening, when I was washing dishes after dinner, D came up, kissed me on the cheek, and said, "Thank you, Marty, I owe you one." I stared at her for a few seconds, and then the proverbial lightbulb turned on over my head, and I smiled and nodded.

*****

Family and friends will gather on the third Saturday in June to witness Dianna Stevens marry Ensign Joseph Grainger, USN. He is a Yankee from Michigan who graduated from the University of North Carolina with my sister and talks to me like I'm all grown up. Why would a Michigan boy go to college in North Carolina? Maybe he has felony warrants in Michigan, but I didn't care because he was cool, and I liked his stories about the Navy.

Even though I like Joe and love my sister, I didn't want to be a groomsman at their wedding. Momma wanted me to be a groomsman, and Dianna does what Momma says, and no amount of complaining by me or D would make a difference. I'd rather hang out on the Saluda River with my friends and go to the wedding as a guest.

I love going to weddings as a guest because of all the females there; blossoming high school girls with braces, college girls looking for their mate, married women trying to remember days past when they were single, and divorcees. Of course, the recently separated or divorced woman was looking for someone to hook up with for an hour or all night. Throw in all the champagne being gulped down, and you have a rowdy crowd of women flirting with every male in the room.

I never got in trouble at a wedding because Momma watched me like the proverbial chicken hawk.

Still, I try to dance with as many women as possible at weddings. I danced cheek to, um, you know, up against their chests, some wearing boulder holders, but many weren't restraining their girls.

Momma and I agreed that I could dance with any woman in the room, but only one dance to stay out of trouble. That gave me an out with the touchy-feely women and those who smelled terrible.

Truthfully, the only tits I've seen were pictures in Penthouse and Playboy magazines. But, hey, a guy can have dreams, right? So forgive me for ranting about my favorite subject.

Being a groomsman, I had to escort a bridesmaid from her sorority, a girl named Ruth Walker. Dianna's maid of honor, Jenny the bitch, described Ruth as fat, ugly, and stupid. Dianna never said anything about Ruth, but she didn't defend her from Jenny's verbal attacks. She only included Ruth in the wedding because Momma wanted an even number of bridesmaids and groomsmen.

The Tuesday before the wedding, Mama had a catered dinner for the bridal party at our house, but someone was missing.

"Dianna, where's the girl I'm escorting?"

"Ruth? I don't know. Hey Jen, where's Ruth?"

"I don't know? Maybe somebody forgot to tell her?" And all the sorority girls started cackling like witches in a coven.

I was furious that my sister and the rest of her classmates could treat a fellow sorority sister so poorly. So I went out the front door, intending to throw a flowerpot through Dianna's windshield, but was stopped by the start of a headache. I sat on the porch and tried to relax when an evil thought took root in my brain, my first evil plot.

Looking for Momma in the backyard, I spotted her by the pool, talking to a woman I'd met before, the one whose "girls" on her chest would confuse Mr. Newton.

I laid the drawl on thick, "Excuse me for interruptin', but two beautiful ladies lahk the two of yawl should have men fallin' all over themselves tuh hold your soft, supple hands, ah do declare." Then I bowed at the waist toward my momma's guest and sucked up some more, "Good evenin', Mrs. Goldrake. Yawl more gorgeous now than the last tahm I saw yoor lovely face. Is your husband escortin' yawl tonight? If not, ah'd like to apply for the prestigious position as yoor humble escort."

"Martin Robert Lawrence Stevens. Stop this disgraceful behavior at once." Momma looked a little pissed off at me.

"Darla, don't stop the boy from learning a valuable lesson, how to get what you want. Martin, please call me Olivia."

"And you may call me whatever you like, Olivia, as long as you call me." After my initial greeting, I didn't need the drawl anymore to get attention.

"Martin! You will not address Mrs. Goldrake as Olivia."

"Of course not, my sweet Momma. Might I be seated next to Olivia, oops Mrs. Goldrake, at dinner tonight; after all, is she not Dianna's wedding planner?"

"No, you may not. You are in the wedding party and will be seated next to the sorority sister you are escorting."

"Therein lies the problem, Momma. My date for the wedding, Ruth, is not here, so if I can't enjoy Mrs. Goldrake's charms at dinner, I want to sleep over at Chase's house. May I borrow your car, and then I won't embarrass you anymore on this fine June evening?"

I put on the biggest fake smile I could muster without breaking my face.

"Very well. But, Martin, I have a hectic day tomorrow and need the car back by 8:00 AM. The keys are hanging on the keyboard."

I turned back to Mrs. Goldrake, took her right hand in mine, and kissed her hand gently as I spoke in a husky voice, "Until we meet again, sweet Olivia."

I turned tail and ran for the house, giggling, before Momma could react.

I ran inside, grabbed the car keys, and went into Dianna's room, where I five-fingered $100 from her money stash in her teddy bear. Then, as an afterthought, I took D's VISA card from her purse and drove off in Momma's classic Cadillac El Dorado to the hotel where the wedding party was staying, the Courtyard by Marriott. I used valet parking when I arrived and walked to the front desk like I owned the place.

"Excuse me, sir. Could you tell me the room number for Ruth Walker? She is part of the Stevens/Grainger wedding party."

"I'm sorry, kid, but I can't give you that information."

"Well then, can you call her room and ask if she will speak to me? My name is Marty Stevens."

He looked me over, picked up his phone, and dialed.

"Miss Walker, I have a Marty Stevens here who wishes to speak to you." He listened to her and answered, "Very good. One moment." He addressed me and pointed, "Pick up the phone on that table."

I walked over to the phone on the table and picked it up on the first ring.

"Hello, Ruth. I'm Marty, Dianna's brother, and I will be your escort for the wedding. I came here because of the crappy way my sister and her college friends are treating you."

"What's the punch line, Marty?"

"Let me come to your room and talk to you. Just talk. I promise I won't let my year-old puberty loose on you unless you beg me to." I was a late bloomer.

She laughed and said, "What the hell. Room 416."

"I'll be right up. You won't regret it."

I hung up, skipped the elevator, ran up the stairs to the fourth floor, and knocked on her door.

The door opened, but she'd hooked the chain just in case I was an ax murderer calling on her. I could only see one brown eye and long, black hair.

"Hi. I'm Marty. May I come in?"

She chuckled and closed the door; I heard the chain clicking, and the door opened.

"Come in."

Her voice sounded very grown-up, rather sexy.

I walked past her and stopped at the end of the bed. I turned around as the door closed and froze. Ruth was beautiful, gorgeous, sexy, hot, a babe, and a stone-cold fox. She wasn't fat; she had a little extra padding here and there, and after she saw the dumb look on my face, a smile broke out and made my legs shake.

"Dianna's maid of honor, Jenny the bitch, told me you were fat and ugly. Compared to you, she's a pig."

"Why do you call her a bitch, not that she isn't one?"

"She visited Dianna last summer for a week, and when her bikini top got untied in the pool, she blamed

me. No one believed her except Momma, so I was on house restriction for a week. I only had to serve two weekend days because Dad took me to work with him and let me go off with my friends."

Sizing her up, I guessed she was 5-foot six inches without heels compared to my 5-foot ten inches height, so I had to look down to see into her eyes. She had beautiful eyes and soft kissable lips. My word, if there is such a thing as 'Love at first sight,' then I am suffering from this affliction.

"Ruth, um, do you like to dance? They, um, have a band here in this hotel. They play the music you, um, can dance to, not rock and roll or country, just good dancing music. They start playing at 8:00. It's almost 7:00 now. Have you eaten dinner yet?"

"Slow down, Marty, speak slower. Yes, and yes to your questions. I love dancing, and I've eaten already. I brought a few dresses, so let me pick one to wear for dancing."

Crap, I forgot about dressing up for dancing. But at least I was decent, wearing slacks, a button-up long-sleeved shirt, and my good loafers.

"Okay, How about I wait in the lobby while you change, and we can talk until the club opens?"

"That's fine because I don't know you yet, but you are cute."

I let myself out, and I was doing a Snoopy happy dance in my head as the elevator was going down.

Standing by the elevators, I was sky high, 'She thinks I'm cute.'

Ten minutes later, she came down wearing red, a dress and shoes. With red lipstick and hair neatly brushed, there was no doubt in my mind I was in love. I started planning our life together and wedding when she yanked me out of Marty World.

"Marty? Hello, Marty, are you in there?"

I stood up, "You are so beautiful, and I would be honored to take you dancing."

Offering her my arm, we sat on a sofa by the club door, and I asked the question driving me nuts. Well, I didn't ask; I just blurted out, "Why don't they like you? You're the prettiest, the smartest, and the nicest bridesmaid."

"You are so sweet, Marty, so I'll tell you what happened. My parents and I lived in Ohio, and I went to The Ohio State University, pledged at the same sorority, and everything was wonderful. Then my parents separated at the end of my first year when Mom caught him with an eighteen-year-old student. He was a professor at Ohio State, and there was quite a scandal when the story hit the news media. Mom moved to Charlotte, North Carolina, where my grandparents live, and I went with her because I didn't want to hear the whispers behind my back. So my sorority talked to the chapter at UNC, and they approved my transfer, and I went from being a Buckeye to a Tarheel. Even though I pledged at a sister Sorority, they resented me because I'm not one of them. I might walk the walk, but Ah'm sure ah don't tawk the tawk, shugah."