"What're we going to do about this mess? I can't believe they were so destructive, Doug."
"I'll contact my insurance company first thing tomorrow morning. Well, maybe not the first thing, but early then I'll call the painters and finally, the furniture company to get a replacement for the couch. Then I'll need a fence company and I'll have to postpone our meeting with the dog trainer. I probably should have taken more precautions, but as the saying goes—there's no sense crying over spilt milk. I'm sure to get my laptop and I-pad back, but it will take time, unfortunately. Why don't we just go to bed?"
"Good idea; I'm too stuffed to even think about dealing with this now." She held out her hand and I took it as we walked together to the bedroom. We stripped and showered, but no sex tonight. I went to sleep quickly with a promise of a great blowjob in the morning.
I got it, too—first thing, exactly as promised and well worth waiting for. Jennie sucked me dry, leaving me exhausted again at 6:30. We rested together and rose at seven. I fixed a breakfast of bacon and French toast for the two of us. I would have preferred for us to be naked, but I half expected a visit from the law and I knew May would be here around nine-thus, my sweatshirt and jeans while Jennie wore a sweater and Capri's.
We ate in the kitchen, looking out toward the marsh and waterway, a dozen slices of hot egg-soaked bread, a pound of crisp bacon, butter, and genuine Vermont maple syrup. I ate quietly, but Jennie was ecstatic. "Damn, Doug; this is the best breakfast I've ever had."
"Thanks for the compliment, even if it isn't true. I'm sure your mother must have done something right in the kitchen, even if only once."
"My mother never made breakfast. She's the reason why I can't stomach cold cereal. I must have had frosted flakes a thousand days in a row then I had shredded wheat for the next thousand, besides don't you know to never refuse a compliment?"
"I do now so why don't we finish up so I can get to work?" We dug in, eating like we had last night. We tackled the dishes together and Jennie volunteered to make the bed while I got busy on the phone. My first call was to my insurance agent. He told me he would get the crime report from the sheriff's office. Next I rang Sunset Painting. They were two brothers from New Jersey—Al and Joe. They were good workers and always showed up on time. Ten minutes later we had an appointment for Saturday morning. I had just ended the call when May and Le'andra walked in ready to work.
"My lord, Mistuh Doug; what on earth happened heah?"
"Burglary and vandalism...last night. Just work around it until the adjuster shows up. He should be here by one. Jennie and I will handle it if you're gone by the time he comes. Okay? Good, now I have to make a few more calls so, please excuse me." I returned to the office while they got to work. My call went to a major furniture store in High Point, out in the western half of North Carolina. Lots of people think of it as the furniture capital of the world and they're probably right. I spoke to a salesperson, giving her the invoice number from my order. She found it in her computer and told me I could have the order duplicated in ten days. They even had my credit card on file.
I was about to place another call when my phone rang. It was a sheriff's deputy. I made an appointment to meet with him in an hour. He was actually early which was okay with me. "We got 'em, Mr. Preston. They're all eighth graders at the middle school in Shallotte. We busted the address you gave us at 11:00 last night and found your equipment and a closet full of electronics from the other jobs they pulled. I thought the kid's father was going to kill him. They're not poor. Dad's a service manager at one of the car dealers in Shallotte. The kid—Duane Putnam—gave up his pals in a heartbeat. They're all up in Bolivia in the courthouse. I understand the judge gave them hell. They'll be held responsible for restitution on all damages."
I couldn't keep from laughing. "They might be able to pay my painting bill, but my couch cost $8,000. Besides, I have insurance that will cover almost all of it. If the insurance company wants to go after them—well, that's their business." We shook hands and I walked out to the deck to start the grill. It was Thursday—hot dog day—for Jennie and me, but especially for May and Le'andra.
My usual job with the dogs done I called Jennie, May, and Le'andra to the table. I poured four Pepsi's while they prepared their plates. Like every other week, May's and Le'andra's were filled by the time I was in my chair next to Jennie. I noticed there was a tension in the air. In previous weeks the lunch was punctuated with lively conversation. Today's was marked with a stony silence. I resolved to get to the bottom of it once Jennie and I were alone again.
May had finished by two so I took Jennie's hand and led her to the couch. "Want to tell me what's going on with you and May?"
Jennie lowered her head and turned away. "Oh...it's nothing."
I lifted Jennie's chin with my finger then leaned in for a lingering kiss. "Okay, it obviously isn't. Tell me about it. You know I'm here to support you."
There was a tear in her eye when she turned to face me. "May told me I was a slut and a tramp because I was obviously sleeping with you, both figuratively and literally. She said it was bad enough when I was in the other room, but now the situation was intolerable. That's what she told me—intolerable."
"I have to agree. It is intolerable." Jennie had a hurt and confused look on her face as I lifted the cordless phone from its charger. May was on the speed dial. A few seconds later I had May on the line as I clutched Jennie close to me. "Hi, May—Jennie tells me you have some moral issues with the way she's living here with me."
(I like you, Mistuh Doug, but that woman is causing you to sin. You all will be headin' straight to the devil.)
"I guess this goes against your conscience."
(It does, Mistuh Doug. It truly does.)
"Well, May I'd never want you to do something that goes against your conscience so I'm going to resolve it right this very minute."
(Praise the Lord. Thank you, Mistuh Doug.)
"May, you're fired. I don't want you to ever come back. I'll have to find another cleaning company—one that knows how to mind its own business. Don't worry about my key. I've been thinking about upgrading my locks and now's the perfect time for that. I'll also change my alarm code. Thank you for sharing your thoughts May even though the entire matter is none of your concern. I'll miss our Thursday lunches. Good bye, May, and good luck." I ended the call before she had a chance to respond and blocked her number.
"That tell you anything?"
She reached up to kiss me before responding, "Yes. I couldn't believe what she said to me. You're doing something good—something really good—and all she could say was how bad it was and how I was going to burn in hell."
"I'm sorry, Jen. That should never have happened. Let me get the phone book so I can find another company." I retrieved the book from the closet and less than a minute later I was thumbing through the yellow pages. I found several and picked Blue Ribbon, only because I liked the appearance of their half-page ad. I was pleased when someone answered on the second ring. I set up an appointment for the following afternoon.
Jennie and I were kissing and touching each other and—truth be told—she had my cock out and had begun to lick when we heard the doorbell ring. "Damn," she exclaimed. "Just when the fun was starting. I'll get the door." She answered and called back, "It's the adjuster, Doug."
His card said his name was Peter Malcolm, Independent Insurance Adjuster. He shook my hand and took a good look around. "Wow, what a mess. Was this an expensive couch?"
"You might say so. It cost me $8,000. I have the receipt in my office." Jennie trotted down the hall, returning shortly with my file. I handed it to Mr. Malcolm.
"Do you have replacement value in your policy?"
"Of course."
"Then you'll get the full value for the couch plus the cost of repainting. I think they'll have to prime the area again or these foul words will bleed through. That's especially true since your walls are white. Do you have a copy of the policy handy?"
I did and once again Jennie was running down the hall. She returned with it in her hand. "Ahhh, I see you have a $1,000 deductible. I'll estimate your painting job at $500 and your couch at $8,000 so your insurer will send you a check for $7,500. I'll hold off for about a week. Let me know if your painting comes in at a higher figure. You might want to sue the parents for the money. I'm sure the company will. Well, I have another appointment. Keep my card in case you have to get in touch with me again." We shook hands and he left, Jennie locking the door behind him.
"Can we resume where we left off?"
"Yes, my dear...we most certainly can." I rose from the couch and took her hand. We walked together, kissing and groping each other, into the bedroom where our clothes fell to the floor like rain. Jennie pulled me down right on top of her with a laugh. We looked into each other's eyes for a second then we came together in a powerful embrace and a torrid kiss that went on and on as our tongues dueled and danced. We rolled from one side of the bed to the other.
I'm only human and there was a limit to what I could endure without needing to be inside her hot tight cunt. Luckily, Jennie had shown an ability to read my mind. She rolled me over onto my back while pulling a condom from my night table. She had it unrolled down my throbbing organ in a flash then she slowly descended onto it, savoring the sensations of her tissues stretching around me. I'm not huge by anyone's imagination, but I know I'm above average at just over seven inches in length and almost six inches in circumference. All I know is that in my limited experience I'd never received even a single complaint about it. On the contrary, my cock had received several accolades, even earning a blue ribbon from one of my undergrad conquests.
"That's the part I love best, Doug—the part when you stretch the bejeezus out of my cunt."
"If only May could see you now. Her conscience must be driving her crazy right about now." I chuckled a bit before kissing Jennie again.
"Enough fooling around; can we get down to business now?" I nodded as I drove into her with force, lifting her bodily from the bed. We fucked in earnest now, forcing our bodies together with speed and power. Jennie was rubbing her poor clit raw in her desire to cum. She spread her legs even farther, forcing her clit from its hood then her eyes became as big as saucers as the sensations overcame her. She screamed at the top of her lungs as her body shook and for our first time—squirted, covering my abdomen in her aromatic juice. Finally, totally exhausted, she collapsed onto my body. I held her tightly, thinking to myself, "I love you."
CHAPTER 6
The one good thing about cancelling our trip to Santee was that I was able to phone Jeremy, the head pro at Farmstead about some lessons for Jennie. We met with him on the range at 11:00 Friday morning. I spent an hour hitting balls while Jeremy worked on improving Jennie's technique. I could help her, but Jeremy had the technical knowledge that I lacked. He was also a 2-handicap while I was a 15. They worked together on putting for about fifteen minutes before we loaded our bags onto a cart and went out to play a round. Farmstead is, in my opinion, a fairly easy course with wide fairways on most holes. What makes it unique is the 18th—674 yards from the men's tees and a par 6. It's the only par 6 that I know of.
Jennie and I played slowly, but I thought she did well, scoring three pars while shooting a 112. In another month she'd be under a hundred, for sure.
We thanked Jeremy and I gave him $150, telling him we'd see him again on Monday. Jennie was positively glowing on the ride home. "Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. I had such a wonderful time. I had no idea golf was such a scientific sport."
"I suspect you could say that about all sports. As casual observers we're just not aware of all the technicalities." Jennie reached over and took my hand in hers. We were back in the driveway fifteen minutes later. We were just in time to meet with the new cleaning contractor. After checking the house he told me he would charge $75 a week. That was more than May had charged, but I doubted they would stick their noses into my business.
Jennie and I went in to shower before going out to dinner. Instead of a big meal I drove back almost all the way to Farmstead, stopping at Christopher's for pizza and beer. I was from Long Island, New York originally and there were more than half a million Italian Americans there—and plenty of pizza joints. Most of the pizza I'd found here just sucked, but Christopher was originally from Brooklyn and his pizza showed it.
We sat in the simple restaurant and ordered two Yuengling's and a large pie—extra cheese and sausage. We enjoyed our beer as we watched a golf tournament on one of the TV's. I could see Jennie thinking about how the pro's planned and executed their shots. Ten minutes later our pie arrived and we ate. Knowing Jennie I doubted that we'd have any leftovers. We didn't. There wasn't even a scrap left on Jennie's plate. "I'm sure you realize that pizza isn't really big in Iowa. Well, that's not actually true. It is big if you like Pizza Hut. This was much better. I really liked it."
I couldn't suppress a chuckle as I replied, "I noticed." Jennie turned the most delightful shade of red. I leaned across the table and gave her a quick kiss. "You're also beautiful when you blush. Speaking about beauty, I just had an idea. We should get you an appointment to get your hair done and also your nails. I know of a good place for a manicure, but you should get a pedicure, too."
I asked our waitress if she knew of a good beauty parlor in the area. She laughed. "Take a good look at my hair. It's in a ponytail for a reason. I'll ask some of the other women though if you want." I did and she came back about ten minutes later, dropping the bill on the table. She also gave me a piece of paper with "Carla's" and a phone number. "It's not called Carla's any more," she said, "but nobody could recall the new one. They said the phone number is the same, though." I knew where Carla's was—right across the street from Holden Brothers' huge farm store. I'd gone there several times in the fall to buy tomatoes, peppers, and even North Carolina apples. I never knew that apples could be grown in North Carolina, but I'd never be described as a farmer either.
The next month was really busy for the two of us. We were able to play golf twice a week even though the weather could best be described as "chilly." I met with a locksmith and selected a high quality lockset and deadbolt for my front and garage doors. He also recommended a device that would secure my sliding glass door effectively. I had already changed the code for my house alarm. Next was a fence.
I met with two contractors who had experience with wrought iron estate fencing. Both had excellent references including three churches, a funeral parlor, and the county's richest man. Their prices were close, but I chose the more expensive because he could start immediately. There were large stone pillars on either side of the driveway that had been installed by the previous owner. They were perfect for the remote controlled gate I wanted. A concrete footing every eight feet would serve as a strong base for the vertical posts with additional stone columns at every corner. The dock would have a gate with a numerical keypad on each side for better security, too.
Jennie had been studying the DMV manual online for two days when her new birth certificate arrived in the mail. I was pleased, but I could see that Jennie had her concerns. "Are you sure this is safe, Doug?"
"I think we would have had a visit from either the police or homeland security if it wasn't. They sent the birth certificate instead. I'll bet that even that small county gets dozens of requests every year. It's just a routine deal. How many reasons for getting a new one can we think of? Fire? Flood?"
"Lost while moving?"
"Sure, probably more than all the others combined. How about eaten by a pet?"
"Okay...how about eaten by a kid?"
"Was that something from your sordid past?"
"No, but I would have done anything to escape from that loser and my non-mother."
"I know, and you did it, didn't you?"
"I would have done it sooner if I had known I'd be taken in by you." That remark was accompanied by a sly smile that I returned as I sent her back to work. I connected to my wi-fi through a new laptop I'd bought. The stolen one was still in police hands as evidence from the theft. Using the laptop I was able to access my investment program where I learned I had earned more than $50,000 over the past weekend. I kept the program running even though my current investments earned me millions each and every week. I would donate virtually every dollar to selected charities before the end of the year.
Since the 9/11tragedy the state has required much more stringent identification so on Wednesday morning I drove Jennie to Conway, South Carolina so she could get a social security card. She used the same story she had told the clerk in Tennessee, except this time she told the clerk that she had no idea if her parents had requested a card for her as the entire contents of their house had been consumed in the fire. There was nothing on file for a Jennifer Marie Townsend, born in Tennessee on August 4, 1992 so she walked out with a new card. From there we went to my bank where I transferred $2,000,000 from one of my investments to a checking and savings account for Jennie. Once she had received a statement she would need only two more things—a cell phone bill addressed to her at my, or our, address and proof that she had been added to my automobile insurance.
"I've thought about getting a lease agreement and charging you rent. That's another form of identification the DMV accepts."
"I'm paying you rent," she asked in shock.
"No, of course not, but a rental lease is a lot easier for you to get than a utility or cable bill. Of course, I'd be open to bartering...services for rent or meals." I couldn't hide the grin.
"If that was true you'd wind up owing me money after the first day," she replied with a grin of her own.
"Too true," I said as I leaned over for a quick kiss before resuming our trip to Dr. Whitney's office. We had a 4:30 appointment so I thought we'd be lucky to wait less than an hour. We waited for less than half that and went in together again.
"I'm not accustomed to seeing two patients at once," Dr. Whitney announced when she walked through the door. "But if that's what you want..."
She shuffled through some papers before sharing my test results. "Douglas, you're fine—no sign of any STD's." She listened to my breathing and heartbeat before shooing me from the table and addressing Jennie. "Jennifer, most of your tests are perfectly normal—exactly what I would expect of someone your age. Unfortunately, you do have Chlamydia. There are two primary antibiotics—Doxycycline and Azithromycin. Of the two I much prefer the Azithromycin. If you take a seven day dose it will be in your system for fourteen. That should be more than enough to clear it up. I don't know how long you've had it, but there is some reason to be concerned. Do you know who might have given it to you?"
I explained how Jennie and I had met and what her life had been during her five years on the road. "She's lucky that's all she has." Dr. Whitney nodded and examined Jennie as she had me. She wrote two prescriptions—antibiotic and birth control. I paid the bills, and we were gone. I made a stop at the nearest CVS to fill the prescriptions and then I took Jennie out for dinner.
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