Plain Jane the Chameleon

"Yeah."

"Good. Where are you headed, or are you out in search of me?"

"Joyriding. My aunt gave me the car last night. I filled it with gas this morning, and here I am."

"Gas? Are you sure you didn't fill it with petrol?"

Folding up the map, Jane lifted my can and gave it a shake. Finding it still held half of the soda, she lifted it to her black lips and tilted back the can, two seconds later it was empty.

With the can still in her hand, Jane turned and walked back to the stone fence. Crushing the aluminum under her booted foot, she pushed and worked the thinned out can between two of the stones. When she was done, it was secure and visible.

"Are you able to see the can then?"

I nodded affirmation.

"Good lad. When you come to visit, you park here. Hop the wall and head straight back. It's about a hundred-fifty meters."

"Come to visit?"

"Small town equals no secrets. Victoria told me you were staying with Edward and Marge for the summer. So, I imagine while you're out driving the countryside, at one time or another, you'll find there aren't many female suitors, so you'll more than likely be inclined to drop over for a visit."

Shocked, I nodded again.

"Swell. Now be a good lad and give us a ride to Plwmp."

"Where? And who is 'Us'?"

"Plwmp you dim wit. It's a little place not far from here. And us is me, you daft prick." She shook her head with a look of disgust. "Feckin Americans, none of you Yanks can speak English."

The first thing Jane asked was why the car had no radio. I tried to explain it wasn't my car, but she still questioned how enjoyable it would be driving around all summer in a car without music. The word 'blasphemy' was used more times in our trip than I had ever heard it used before in my life.

"So, what is Plwmp?"

"Well Michael. I'm not sure it's any of your business, but since you were gentleman enough to offer me a ride, I'll tell you. On Saturday nights, we dance."

"Dance?"

"Jesus. Please tell me when you're in New York, you dance."

"I suppose."

"Suppose? So, does 'suppose' make you a wallflower? A delicate little daisy who's afraid to express himself when the music starts?"

"No...well...maybe. But...I have danced."

*****

The nondescript building was almost windowless, and the outside walls were a painted yellow plaster. There wasn't a parking spot at the house, but I pulled up as close as I could. The thud of bass pumped from inside, and the few windows there were, changed colors every few seconds.

"You shouldn't park the car here, someone will smash you, sure."

"I'm not parking. I'm dropping you off."

"Dropping me off? How do you expect me to get home, twit? I didn't take my bike now did I?"

The inside of the house was like nothing I had ever seen. All the walls were painted flat black. Neon paint and neon paint splashes brightly shined everywhere. There were lots of lights, speakers, and little, if any, furniture. But there were people. Lots of people. Moving, dancing, mingling. And most of them were dressed in the same style of clothes Jane was.

Dressed in jeans and a rugby shirt, I looked out of place.

Putting me in the corner, Jane gave me a 'be straight back', and left me by myself.

A half dozen tunes played non-stop, back-to-back, and I didn't recognize one of them. But an already sweaty Jane returned to save me. She handed me a glass of thick red ale.

"I love this song," she screamed over the music. "Dance with me."

It was the first time our skin touched. Her smallish hand grabbed mine and dragged me along with her. There was no option to decline.

The tune was slow and somber, yet people still moved to the beat. It wasn't Billy Joel's, "it's still rock and roll to me" or Hall and Oates, "Maneater", but people seemed to like it.

"Best song ever."

Still holding my beer, I leaned into her sweaty body.

"I've never heard it."

"You American wankers. It's The Smith's, 'How Soon is Now'."

From that point in the night, I lost track of how many times I danced. It was more than I ever had before in my life, combined. The Smiths. The Specials. Tears for Fears. New Order. Joy Division and a group of bands without names. They all played songs very foreign to me. And it wasn't until late in the night when I finally heard one, I knew. Billy Idol belting out," Dancing with myself". Bodies banged and clashed in a flood of furiously flailing arms and heads. By the end of it, I was as sweaty as Jane.

Standing back in my designated corner while Jane went to the 'ladies', I watched the strange crowd milling about.

"Oy, mate. You wiff Jane then?"

A tall guy with about ten more inches of spiked hair, was talking directly to me. He had jeans and combat boots. A black T-shirt and the sleeveless jean jacket with the cover of what I would later find out was the Clash's London Calling album painted on the back panel.

"We're friends."

"Sweet. Mind if I take a run at 'er then?"

"Take a run at who?" Jane had returned without either of us noticing.

"You, babe."

"Feck off Billy, or I swear to Christ, you'll get a boot in the balls."

"Yeah? Who's gonna do it then? This little piss ant?"

Jane spoke into Billy's ear, and his eyes didn't leave me, not once. When she was done, he gave her a curious, 'him?'.

"What did you tell him?"

"I said your uncle is a roadie for The Talking Heads."

The next time I saw Billy, he was getting on the back of someone's scooter.

The old Mini fired up and I pulled the switch for the lights. Jane pointed her finger in the direction she wanted to go, and I put the car in gear, turned the steering wheel, heading off towards God knows where.

The cool evening air came in through the cranked down windows. It felt good against the warm sweat I had worked up during the tunes I danced to.

The sound of a pop top being removed from a bottle made me look Jane's way. Shortly after, Jane held the bottle to my lips and tilted it back. Fanta Root Beer filled my mouth. It was very cold, and it washed the flavor of the shitty beer I had had earlier from my taste buds.

With a series of turns, I ended up on a dark road with some features I remembered. To my left were large pastures and the ocean. To my right was the three-foot-high stone fence.

"Just there." Jane pointed to the spot where she wanted me to stop. She didn't need to tell me. I could see the reflection of the light hitting the can she had put between the stones.

The Mini came to rest against the wall, under the shroud of darkness and the low hanging pear branches.

"Thanks for bringing me with you to the club tonight."

"It's not a club."

"Looked like a club."

"Well, its' not."

Jane fidgeted for a second, then spoke.

"You in a hurry to be home?"

"No."

"Good, shut this thing off and kill the lights."

Jane turned in her seat, laid her legs in my lap, leaned back so her head was resting on the door post, and looked at me for the first time since we had left the dance.

"Be a love a rub my feet. They get so sore dancing in these old things."

"You mean to tell me you have feet hidden away somewhere in these boots?"

I unlaced and pulled off the Dr. Martens. Peeling down her small pink socks, I found the contrast odd. Pink socks, almost everything else, black.

Without any hesitation, I took the first foot in my hands and started working on it.

"How old are you, Michael?"

"Eighteen."

"Oh, to be so young and so sweet."

"Why, how old are you?"

"Here is a life lesson for you. It's impolite to ask a lady her age. Most never divulge information of that nature. Friends and lovers are always kept guessing. Only husbands and fathers know the truth about a lady's years."

She could see my look of embarrassment and concern. To comfort me, she put her hand on the side of my face.

"Don't fret Michael. There are many things in life to learn. All I want to do is teach you the ones that will be most valuable to your everyday life...and apparently teaching you how to rub a lady's feet is not one of them. You do a wonderful job."

"Thank you. As a kid I rubbed my mom's. She worked standing up all day."

"Did you know feet are one of a woman's erogenous zones?"

"No..." I said shyly. I had no idea.

"Well, it is for me anyway. Probably not for your mum. On me though, rubbing my feet is like rubbing my clitty or sucking my nipples. It turns me on so much I'm putty in your hands. Remember those words, Michael. If you want something from me, rubbing my feet will aid you in achieving your goals."

"I see."

"Would you like me to teach you things, Michael?"

My head bounced as it nodded.

"Good. I fancy you, but you'll have to behave yourself. I don't want either of us getting into trouble."

"There'll be no trouble from me."

"I'm sure there won't."

It had been over an hour since we stopped next to the stone fence. I hadn't stopped rubbing her feet, and she hadn't stopped chatting. But as I put pressure on her soft instep, her head tilted back, and she let out a very sexy moan.

When she finally leveled her head, Jane smiled at me and pressed her free foot against the hardness of my manhood. Her curled toes toyed with the length of my jean covered shaft. She moved her foot up and down it, only stopping long enough to rub the circle of the head.

"Do you like me touching you there?"

Nodding saved me from trying to find any words.

"Good," she said as she sat into an upright position and moved toward me. Seconds later, she had loosened my belt, and released the button on my jeans.

Reaching into my briefs, I felt the warm touch of her fingers as they wrapped around my cock and pulled it free from the confines of my pants.

"What a lovely horn Michael," she whispered into my ear. "Do you think I should try to play it."

For the second time I just nodded.

"Not quite, baby. I need to know you want it. Tell me to do it. Ask me or beg me. Either way, I need you to tell me what you want."

"Please, Jane. Will you please..."

"Will I 'please' what, Michael? Wank you? Suck you? Be a man Michael. Tell me what it is you like. Tell me what you'd like me to do with your cock."

"Suck it. I want you to suck my cock, now. Please, Jane."

"Crude, forceful and polite, wrapped together. I like it very much."

In the darkness I watched but could hardly see as Jane's painted black lips covered the tip of my cock. With a slight push she lowered her head to completely engulf me. After that, the only things I could see was the movement of her raven black hair as she bobbed her head on my crotch.

Back in Jersey, Lydia had never even kissed my cock. Never, not even once, had it been as far inside of a mouth as it now was in Jane's.

Every time Jane clenched and sucked. Every time she swirled her tongue around the head, or cupped my shaft with it, I thought I might explode.

Feeling Jane's work, I had a flashback to my friend's house. In an old garden shed near the river, we had watched one of his father's old Super 8mm porn movies. The kind with no sound. I remember watching it over and over. Not one of the guys looked like they were having as much fun as I was. And I would swear on my life, Jane was doing a much better job than any of the hags that I had watched sucking cocks, as their images flashed against the old wooden wall.

Moving my thoughts to the present, I tried to cup Jane's tit, and got a simple, 'no', for my efforts. I put my fingers in the black spiked hair and got them swatted away. No matter what I tried, she shot me down.

Even in the heat of the night, the wet spittle on my cock felt cool when Jane let me plop out of her mouth. And if I thought anything Lydia and I did was a great feeling, then what Jane did next, was over the top.

Using her lips and teeth, Jane bit and sucked at the underside of my shaft as she worked her way down to my balls. Licking, sucking and biting, until I felt her clamp onto and suck one of my balls into her mouth. Her hand once again stroked me, as her mouth massaged my balls.

This was the beginning of the end, and Jane knew it.

"You like me doing that?" she smiled.

Moving back to the tip, she went back to work.

Nothing I thought about worked. I thought back to fourth grade when I got beaten up at recess. I thought about breaking my new skateboard the first day I had it. I thought about the day someone stole my jean jacket and my life's savings of thirty-seven bucks that were in the front pocket. It was taken out of my friend's car while we were parked on the Shores. I recall crying, but nothing I thought about worked, because all these bad things couldn't hold a candle to the goodness that was happening to me in the front seat of this car.

Done. It was over, and I knew it. My left arm touched her back, whether she liked it or not. My right hand squeezed the steering with enough force to damage it. My back was pressed up against the seat, and my feet were planted squarely on the floor. I pushed so hard; I was trying to put holes in it.

My mind raced with visions of pleasure. I was about to cum. I flashed back to what Jane had said earlier. She had told me to tell her what I wanted, and now was the time.

"Jane, I'm cumming. Please, swallow it. Swallow it all."

I wanted to hold her head as I shot my load down her throat, but I didn't dare. I also wanted to see her face as she choked down my week's build-up of cum, but I knew it was impossible, so I did the next best thing, I enjoyed the moment.

Frozen, I could feel my cock begin spurting. It was pumping every single drop my balls had to offer. My head was tilted back. I was done, yet Jane kept sucking. She was sucking and licking my manhood. And I loved it.

It seemed like minutes before she lifted her head from my lap and used her thumb and forefinger to wipe her black painted lips.

"Jane, oh my god, thank-you. That was..."

The palm of her hand touched my cheek. It was followed by her lips touching mine. A soft kiss. A sexy kiss.

"Be thankful, Michael. Not insecure. You told me what you wanted, and I gave it to you. There will come a time when you will have to reciprocate," she told me in a hushed tone, before returning her lips to mine.

"Jane, I want to fuck you."

"Fuck me? Fucking is so crude, yet very sexy." She paused to look at me. Almost as if disappointed. "Michael, we're done for now, so you can put your thing away."

"But it's still hard."

"I would imagine it's often very hard."

Rolling her socks into a ball, she stuffed them into her pocket, and pulled on her combat boots, not bothering to take the time to tie them up.

Stepping out of the car, she grabbed what was hers and closed the door. I jumped out behind her.

"Jane...can I at least walk to home? It's pretty dark in the orchard."

"There's no need to worry. I've walked it many times before."

"I'll see if there's a flashlight in the trunk."

"I've no need for a torch."

"Jane, please let me..."

"Look, Michael. You're quite lovely, but I'm knackered, and walking me home won't change anything. Another lesson for you. If a woman says 'no' it's no. And the reason I say 'no', is because this week isn't the best week for what you have in mind. I promise, if you give it some time, it will happen soon or later. I'm not about to make you any promises, but play your cards right, and it will happen."

"But...what about...you know...what just happened?"

"Did you enjoy it?"

"Absolutely."

"Then be still and savor it. Better times are on the horizon."

Jane hopped onto, then over the stonewall fence, and started to disappear into the darkness.

"Michael."

"Yes."

"Unless you are invited, never come looking for me. Remember, that is a rule. Understood?"

"Okay."

"No, it's not okay. I need you to tell me you understand."

It was almost as if I was being scolded when I called out into the complete darkness.

"Yes, I understand."

*****

Sunday, Monday, and Tuesday, Jane rode by the house or the fields on her bicycle. She would wave, but she never made any attempt to stop and talk with me.

On Wednesday, I was pulling out a few stumps with my uncle when he alerted me to my guest.

"Lad, looks like you have company."

Looking toward the road, I could see Jane leaning on an old, crooked apple tree. She looked very different from the girl who had given me my very first blowjob a few nights before. Gone were the tough, hardened, edges. Back was the soft, delicate femininity.

"Back in a minute, Unc," I told my uncle as I took off my gloves and headed over to Jane.

"I highly doubt that lad."

"Oh yeah, why?'

"Cause if I were you, I'd be gone for the day. Pretty little flower like her. Waiting for the likes of you."

Walking toward Jane, I watched her movements. Everything she did was...sexy. The way her legs moved. The way her hands and fingers idly played with an apple leaf she had pulled from a branch. The way her natural colored hair shone in the sunlight. It was all very captivating to me.

"You look damp."

"I've been swimming."

"Swimming?"

"Yes. I was swimming in the sea. It's quite chilly today, but I love it. It excites me. It makes me feel like a salty girl."

"Salty girl?"

"Yes, a salty girl. The saltwater dries and pinches when it clings to my skin. Lick my neck and see."

Looking back at my uncle, I noticed he wasn't paying any attention to us, so I moved in, and as told, I licked her neck. The taste of salt coated my tongue, and along with the sweet smell of her floral perfume, I was building a tent in my jeans.

"It tastes a bit like when I kissed you the other night."

"Completely different. The salt you tasted the other night was a combination of my sweat and your semen. Today's salt is from nowhere else but the sea."

"Either way, I love the taste of you Jane."

"It shows. Now tuck that thing away, because there's nothing, we can do about it in front of Edward. Can we?"

Her smile made the sunny day, even brighter.

"You're a good listener, Michael."

"Do you think so?"

"I do."

"Then tell me why."

"Because you didn't come looking for me."

"I wanted to, but you hold me not to."

"And that's why you'll be rewarded."

"Rewarded?"

"Yes. Something special for both of us. It's a slow time for farming right now. And tomorrow will be bringing rain. Lots of rain. So, ask your uncle for the day off. If he agrees, you know where to find me."

"And, if he doesn't?"

"You'll still know where to find me, it'll just have to be later in the day."

*****

As predicted, the rain came down hard. So hard, that by early morning my uncle had called it a day. Said he and my aunt had some 'catching up' to do. He got a light slap from my blushing aunt. But even with the slap, she asked me to drop the girls down the road at their friend's farm.

I told them I was going out driving, so it was no problem. I said I shouldn't be very long, but not to wait any meals for me. And after a quick shower, I borrowed one of my uncle's yellow rain slickers and some boots. After my drop, I would be on the way to Jane's house.

The windshield wipers on the old Mini did their best to keep up with the downpour, but it was futile effort at best. I actually passed the can marker twice. And when I finally found it, I had mixed emotions. Excitement and nervousness wrestled inside of me. In the end, excitement won the battle.

Jane's pear orchard wasn't nearly as well kept as my uncle's. There was much work to be done. The grounds appeared to be neglected. Lots of branches scattered about and the trees were in need of pruning, but they did bear lots of fruit. Fruit which would grow much bigger in the upcoming months.

Walking straight back as she had told me to do, I caught sight of a house. A small stone-built house that was more of a cottage, with its old, shuttered windows and thatched roof. As I approached, I could see and smell the smoke coming from an inside fireplace. At the big, red, front door, I used the old brass knocker.