Mr. Wallace and Me Pt. 08-10

Part 8:

It was almost 4 p.m. when I finally dragged my weary, naked body out of bed, grabbed my white terricloth robe and walked tentatively to the bathroom. The house was quiet. Mom and Dad must have gone out. I needed a shower, and my eyes half open, I looked at myself in the bathroom mirror. The weight I had lost off my slim frame in the last month was evident in the deep concave from my ribcage to my waist and hips. I could see right away that my breasts were all puffy and my nipples, raw, sore and extended. My arms at my sides, I turned my body -- a bit too femininely for my liking, with my slender right shoulder moving forward toward the mirror -- and saw that Stan's bite mark on that shoulder hadn't totally disappeared. More distressing was looking down and seeing Stan's dry, crusty sperm on my lower back and tight bottom.

The horrible events of the previous day washed over me along with the hot spray of the shower. In a span of 16 hours, Mr. Wallace, Dr. Phillips and Stan had all used me for their pleasure. Those three men had their tongues in my mouth, their penises inside me, and I had for one reason or another ultimately surrendered to each of them like a helpless girl. Something within me felt almost flattered that I had been considered so desirable, that each man had been so turned on by me, that they had all acted so lustfully and cum inside me or on me. But I hadn't wanted to have sex with any of them, I mean .... not really ... not at first ... not uintil they started putting their hands on me, caressing my shoulders, kissing my neck and back ... and my mouth.

I made the water almost scalding hot and let it run over my slender, aching body. I gingerly fingered and let the water clean out my poor, battered rectum. When I closed my eyes, I saw Mr. Wallace's unseeing eyes, his mouth open and drooling as his corpse held me captive. I was so ashamed of myself for what I had done with his inert body. An array of faces flashed in my mind: Mr. Wallace, Mr. Maddox, Gary, the store clerk, the moustachioed mailman, Mr. Blanchard, the absurd Dr. Phillips, Stan ... and finally Mr. Drummond. What was it about Mr. Drummond that made me feel just a little bit better when I thought of him?

I had determined last night that I was through being humiliated by men, that I wanted only to go back to being Bill, the 18-year-old horny teenage boy I was before Mr. Wallace caught me jerking off at work. Now, it was time to do just that. I got out of the shower, dried my body with a towel -- not too tenderly, despite how sore my nipples were -- and put on my bathrobe. Looking at myself in the mirror as the mist cleared away, I thought about moving the robe one more time just off my slim shoulders ... but no! No more! From now on, I'm a man, and a man I'll remain forever.

When I got back to my room, I noticed that last night I had been so exhausted -- mentally and physically -- that I had merely dumped the bag of feminine clothing and shoes from Mr. Wallace's house onto the floor near my bed. Still in my robe, I put the bag behind a box in my closet, right next to the bag containing the schoolgirl outfit I had worn the previous week. I figured I'd find the right time to get rid of all the girlie stuff in the next few days.

I got dressed in jeans and a T-shirt, then raided the refrigerator. I was ravenous. I didn't remember the last time I had eaten. I spent the rest of the day and evening taking it easy, resting my weary, sore body, playing video games and catching up on Facebook with my high school buddies in their first year of college. Mom and Dad had gone out to dinner and a movie. When they came back, Dad told me again to call them next time I would be staying out later than usual. I told them I would. I went to sleep early, and felt much better when I woke up Monday morning. My breasts weren't so puffy, and while my sore nipples still reminded me of what they had been through, they were healing rapidly. I tried not to think about Dr. Phillips and whether he would be able to track me down after I stand him up on Saturday.

Following Mr. Drummond's instructions, I called in sick to work and told them I didn't think I'd be in until Wednesday, at the earliest. The woman at the security guard company said that would leave them shorthanded because my supervisor wouldn't be in. For some reason, she didn't say "Mr. Wallace" or inform me that he was deceased. I told her that I was sorry they were shorthanded, but I can't help being sick. She got huffy, said to call her when I felt better, then hung up on me.

I hadn't done much swimming since graduating from high school, but I went to the YMCA and gave myself a good workout. It felt great to use those muscles again. My body, even more slender now than when I was competing, cut through the water with ease. It was also great to look at some of the pretty girls in the pool and feel like a horny teenager again. Each hour that passed that day, I felt more and more like Bill. Billie was fast becoming a distant memory. That night, I went out with my parents for Chinese food. It was great to just be their son and talk about plans to go away to college less than a year from now.

The next afternoon, I got dressed in my one and only suit and went to the office building address that was on Mr. Drummond's business card. The law office was a large suite in a big office building. After I told the pretty receptionist that I had an appointment with Mr. Drummond, she told me I could go right in. Mr. Drummond was standing by his desk hurriedly putting some papers into a briefcase. When I walked into his office, he looked at me for a second or two, seemingly wondering who I might be, then he smiled.

"Billie?" he said. "I didn't recognize you there for a second. My goodness, you look so different."

I'm pretty sure my face turned red. For a fleeting moment, I flashed back momentarily to how attracted I had been to Mr. Drummond and how he has come to my aid on Saturday, but in my blue suit, I was feeling masculine and quickly dismissed such thoughts.

"It's 'Bill,' Mr. Drummond," I said. "Not Billie. Not anymore, OK?"

"Sure ... Bill," he said, and resumed putting papers into his briefcase. "Look, I haven't heard anything from the coroner's office, so it looks like we pulled off our little deception the other night. It appears we're in the clear as far as Ted's death is concerned. After the funeral Thursday at St. Mary's, we can put all this behind us."

All I did was nod. I knew the reason Mr. Drummond hadn't heard anything from the coroner's office. But I had determined that I wasn't going to tell him anything about what happened with Dr. Phillips. I probably should have, but I didn't want Mr. Drummond, who had been so kind and classy with me, to know how I had debased myself with the horrid medical examiner.

"Bill," he said. "I owe you an apology. There are a few details we still have to discuss, but there's an emergency and I've got to catch a plane to Chicago. That's where our main offices are located. I'll be back tomorrow. Could you meet me here about 3 p.m. tomorrow?

I was a little unnerved, but smiled and said that as long as he didn't mind seeing me in the same suit, I supposed I could come back tomorrow.

"I'm really sorry," he said. "But you're not the only person I'm disappointing. My goddaughter is visiting on a break from college, and I'm supposed to take her out to dinner tonight."

Mr. Drummond's bearded face lit up.

"Wait a minute," he said enthusiastically. "Billie ... I'm sorry ... Bill ... would you do me a huge favor?"

After all Mr. Drummond had done for me, there was no way I could say "no."

"Tina, my goddaughter, doesn't know anyone in this town," he said. "Would you do me a huge favor and take her out to dinner tonight?"

I shrugged and said, "I guess so," and Mr. Drummond picked up his cell phone and pressed a couple of buttons.

"Tina?" he said into the phone. "It's Uncle Nathan, honey. Look, I know I just got off the phone with you a few minutes ago, but I feel rotten about leaving you all alone for dinner."

He paused a few seconds to listen, then spoke again.

"No, sweetie, it's not all right. A friend of mine, Bill ..."

Mr. Drummond covered the phone with his chest and asked me my last name. I told him, "Donahue."

"Donahue," he said with a smile. "Bill Donahue, he's a good friend of mine. He'll take you out to dinner tonight. You'll like him."

He paused again to listen.

"Yes, Tina, I know this isn't the first time, and you didn't have fun the last time I was called away," He looked at me and smiled. "But I think you'll like Bill. Look, just have dinner. You've got to eat, don't you? OK. Good. I've made reservations at La Marseillaise. Dress nice or I'll tell your parents on you."

Mr. Drummond winked at me and smiled, hearing his goddaughter giggle at his empty threat.

"I'll see you tomorrow when I get back from Chicago," he said. "What's that? Yes, OK. Now that I stood you up again I owe you a new dress, you little con artist. I've got to catch a plane. Be a good girl. OK. Me, too. Bye."

Mr. Drummond put his cell phone away and reached into his pocket for his billfold. He peeled off three $100 bills and handed them to me, telling me that the French restaurant where he had made reservations was expensive.

"Bill," he said, "I really appreciate this. Any money left from this evening, you keep."

Mr. Drummond gave me Tina's room number in the best hotel in town, then thought a moment and peeled off another two $100 bills and thrust them into my hands.

"Tina's very special to me, Bill," he said. "Her father's my best friend. I drove her mom and dad to the hospital when she was born, and I've watched her grow up. It makes me feel better that she won't be alone for dinner tonight."

I said I would try to be good company for her, and Mr. Drummond smiled.

"I'll see you tomorrow, Bill," he said as he led me out his office door. "Thanks again for doing this."

Driving to the hotel, I wondered what Tina would look like. She's in college, Mr. Drummond said, so she's going to be older than me. I just hope she's not too creepy. I chafed in my suit and hoped I wouldn't make a fool of myself by eating with the wrong fork or something in that fancy French restaurant.

My mom's car was probably the oldest one the valet parking attendants saw all day. I told them I'd be right out, and they moved it off to the side instead of taking it to the parking lot. Tina's suite was a long ride up the elevator to the penthouse. I figured a college student couldn't afford a room like that, and that Mr. Drummond was footing the bill. I made sure my necktie was straight, adjusted my blonde pony tail and knocked on the door, a little nervous about what to expect.

The door opened, and all my breath left my body. Tina was stunning. An inch or two shorter tham me. Long, straight black hair, slender, curvy body, the top of her perky breasts peeking out of a low-cut, expensive-looking, blue, sleeveless V-neck dress. Her slender, stockinged legs in the short dress went on forever down to her black 4-inch heels. She looked at me and broke into a wide smile.

"YOU'RE Bill Donahue?" she asked incredulously.

I nodded, probably looking young and dumb.

Tina took my right hand in both her hands and drew me into the room..

"I am SO happy to see you," she said with a big smile. "Uncle Nathan didn't say you were a young, cool guy. Look at your hair. It's so beautiful. I'm so jealous!"

This gorgeous woman didn't have to be jealous of anyone for anything. She laughed and gave me a quick hug.

"You should see the old guys Uncle Nathan has pawned me off on for dinners over the years when he was too busy to see me," she said. "Icky old guys, and I'd have to sit through a boring dinner at that fancy French restaurant Uncle Nathan likes so much."

"You don't like that restaurant?" I asked, surprised that I was able to speak.

"Would you mind terribly if we didn't go there tonight?" she asked, again taking my right hand in both of hers. "I'm just dying for a burrito, and maybe a movie. Would that be OK?"

She smelled like lilacs, and she wasn't only beautiful, she was nice. Tina made me feel like a co-conspirator in a plot to thwart Mr. Drummond's plans for her this evening. I stammered that anything she wanted was fine with me.

"Oh, you're a doll," she said, smiling. "Give me a minute to change. I feel like a freaking debutante in this outfit."

I stood there stunned as she disappeared into the bedroom portion of the suite. Here was this amazing college girl, at least three years older than me, and she didn't seem disturbed that she'd be going out with a kid just out of high school.. She actually seemed happy to be with someone younger.

About 10 minutes later, she emerged wearing a sleeveless, fuzzy, beige high-neck halter sweater with a hint of a bare midriff over a short jean skirt, bare legs and calf-high felt boots.. I had never seen anything so sexy and beautiful.

"Do I look OK?" she asked.

What came out of my mouth was more of a tortured gurgle than anything intelligible. My face felt flushed, and I was nodding vigorously.

"You know, Bill" she said, "If I'm going informal, you should, too. That tie has got to go."

Tina sidled up close to me and slowly unwound the knot in my necktie as her playful hazel eyes locked on my confused ones. I could smell her light perfume. I didn't know what to do with my hands. I wanted to put them on her bare skin so much, but I figured that would be the end of our date. Finally, she teasingly slid the tie off my neck, folded it neatly and femininely and put it into my jacket pocket. She looked at me, then smiled and unbuttoned the top two buttons of my white shirt..

"There," she said. "I'll have the coolest date in town tonight."

She went to the closet and put on a gray trenchcoat, tying it snugly around her waist. I never knew a trenchcoat could be so sexy. It clung to her tight curves, leaving her knees and calves bare so that if you didn't know better, you'd think she was nude underneath it. Her long black hair trailed behind her as she grabbed her small purse, took my elbow and led me out of the room.

I was pretty sure my feet never hit the ground as we made our way to the elevator where two men in business suits and a middle-aged woman were inside when we went in. The men's eyes explored Tina from head to toe. As far as they were concerned, I was invisible. I had a fleeting thought, wondering if the men would have been so disinterested in me if I had been wearing makeup and the schoolgirl outfit I had on a couple of weeks ago. The same thing happened when we walked through the crowded hotel lobby. I may as well not to have been there at all. Every set of eyes -- male and female -- seemed to follow her every step as we walked to the revolving doors. If Tina noticed, she gave no indication, chatting with me as we made our way to my mom's car. I started to apologize for how old the car was, but she shushed me, put a slender finger to my lips, smiled and said it was fine.

I opened her door for her, stole a quick look at her legs as she sat down and quickly went around the car, gave the attendant two dollars, sat down in the driver's seat, put on my seat belt, and we were off. Tina crossed her legs and I tried really hard not to look at them as I drove toward my family's favorite Mexican restaurant a few miles away.

"So," I said, trying to make conversation, "you call Mr. Drummond, 'Uncle Nathan.' He didn't tell me you were his niece."

Tina giggled.

"Oh, he's not really my uncle," she said. "I've just called him that ever since I was a little girl because he and my parents were so close and he was around the house all the time. I had the biggest crush on him when I was 13 or 14, can you believe that?"

"Yes," I said, my mind wandering for a moment back to when I wanted so much for Mr. Drummond to kiss me, and he wouldn't. "I can believe that."

We got to the little, out of the way Mexican restaurant, and when Tina oozed out of her trench coat and sat down, I couldn't believe I was with such a pretty woman. All through dinner, Tina seemed genuinely interested in what I had to say, making me feel important. I rattled on about high school and my friends and my uncertainty about where to go to college, and she didn't act bored at all. I finally realized that I was talking too much and asked her if she minded very much Mr. Drummond being called away tonight.

"Absolutely not," she said, touching my sleeve. "You're incredibly good company. So much better than Uncle Nathan's older friends. Would you believe that when I was 15, one of them grabbed my bare knee under the table at that French restaurant?"

"Really?" I said. "When you were 15? How old was this guy? What did you do?"

"Oh, he was in the service with Uncle Nathan," Tina said. "Probably he was about the same age, except because he was fat, he looked even older. I'll never forget, it was the first time anyone ever came on to me that way. His name was Mr. Blanchard. I think his first name was Dennis."

I started to cough as my enchillada got caught in my throat. Mr. Blanchard? The same Mr. Blanchard who had copped a feel on me that Saturday? It had to be. There couldn't be two Mr. Blanchards who were Mr. Drummond's war buddies.

"You'll wouldn't believe," Tina said, "what pigs older men can be."

"Oh," I said, still recovering from swallowing my enchalada the wrong way and remembering the events of the last few weeks, "I wouldn't find that hard to believe at all."

"I was so surprised at this fat, sweaty, old man's hand on my knee that I didn't know what to do," Tina said. "I just sat there and let him keep his hand there, and then he moved it up onto my thigh.... and I spilled my Coke all over his suit."

Tina giggled at the memory.

"I told him that I was sorry, that it was an accident, but I don't think he believed me. I told him I had a headache and that if it was all right with him that I wanted to leave. On the drive to the hotel, he casually moved his right hand over and played with my skirt. My body was pressed against the opposite door. He said he wanted to stop off at his house on the way so he could change his shirt. I was only 15, so I didn't know that was an excuse to get me alone. But I was smart enough to stay in the car when we got to his house instead of going inside. He tried to talk me into coming in, and he wasn't happy when I said I was fine in the car. He didn't say anything to me the whole way back to the hotel."

Tina moved her right hand over my left across the table, giving it a gentle rub.

"It's so nice," she said, "to be with a gentleman tonight."

After dinner, we went to see a movie. After taking off her trenchcoat, she started out holding my hand in the dark theater, and I thought things couldn't possibly get better. Then, she took my right hand, moved it around her bare shoulders and cuddled up against me, her head resting on my shoulder. Her soft arm felt so good as I timidly squeezed it every now and then. After several minutes, as her body rested against mine, her long fingernails absently scratched against the top of my right thigh. I didn't know if she could tell, but my small penis was rock hard. It wasn't much of a movie, but I was really sorry when it ended and we got up to leave.

The ride back to the hotel was much too short. When we arrived, I was uncertain whether to have the valets park my mom's car or if she wanted me to walk her to her suite.

"Have them park it for you, Bill," Tina said. "If you don't mind, I could use some company."

Mind? I wouldn't mind keeping this incredible woman company for the rest of my life. The lobby wasn't as crowded as when we left, and when we got to the elevator, it was empty. When the doors closed behind us, Tina pulled my jacket lapels toward her and kissed me tenderly. It was an amazing kiss. I was so surprised that I could barely return it.