The Blameless Bystander Ch. 05

The woman ignored his remark. "I made these for you—to pay something." she mumbled. She thrust a paper plate with a dozen cookies out the open window of the car.

"Thank you, Mrs. Jacobs. You didn't have to do this, but I'm glad that you did!" James accepted graciously.

"It ain't nuthin'," the woman mumbled, looking away.

"More than you think, Mrs. Jacobs. A single man like me doesn't get this kind of thing very often unless someone thinks of him," James insisted.

Well, alright then!" Raymond's mother answered, her tone brightened slightly. She rolled up the window and started backing down the driveway.

James watched the station wagon back down about thirty feet or so. Then he waved good bye and turned back toward the back of the house. As he did, there was something moving that he saw in the corner of his eye. It didn't surprise him. It was the curtain in the nearby window in Mrs. Wilkinson's part of the house.

He knew instinctively that the landlady wouldn't like the tutoring sessions, but this was a point on which he would dig in his heels. He paused to see if the old woman would come waddling out the front door for one of her interrogations. When she didn't, he started walking slowly to his stairway. He would give her every chance to confront him, if she wanted to.

When Mrs. Wilkinson failed to venture from her lair, James considered the matter closed. He bounded up the stairs ready to get some dinner ready. He had some sliced ham from the Thrifty Mart and some eggs, so he decided that he would try that. That would give him a good base when he went out for his run early the next day.

***********

James bounded out of bed the next morning looking forward to his morning exercise. He threw on his running clothes. As he stepped lively to the door he glanced at the scrubbed skillet and plate in the dish drainer. He congratulated himself on getting the eggs cooked just right the night before, and credited the meal for his feeling so good that morning.

He was stretching in the yard looking up at the early morning sky. It promised to be a rainy day, but no sign of rain yet. As the days of September ticked away the mornings were getting chillier. He reminded himself that shorts wouldn't be enough. He'd have to get out his sweatpants. He finished his stretching and started on his route.

The coldness of the morning air encouraged him to quicken his pace. The streets and houses had all become familiar landmarks as he loped past them. James found his stamina and muscle tone improving with the daily routine. At some point, he reckoned, he would have to expand his route. He wanted to get in as much work as possible because when winter arrived the snow might make it impossible to keep a daily schedule.

As he ran, he started thinking about his new charge, Raymond, and Mrs. Wilkinson peering at them from behind her curtain. He had expected a complaint or an interrogation from her, but received none. Maybe he was just imagining that he was to meet opposition at every turn. Why would the old woman even care?

"Why indeed?" he answered himself, pondering the obvious point of Raymond's social status. He didn't know if his assumptions were true or not. It was easy to assume, given his low regard for the unpleasant lady. He realized that it didn't matter. Only Raymond's tutelage and, of course, his part in it mattered.

James was amazed that a young man in Raymond's circumstances could rise to the level that he had. He had decided on the spot during their first tutoring session to accelerate the lesson's pace. It was apparent that there was a lot of potential in the young student. It had been the right decision, because he saw the spark that he ignited in the pupil as soon as he did it. Raymond had every tangible factor arrayed against him. Most of the other students had everything going for them. Raymond stood where he did; his classmates—well, they stood lower.

The only possible explanation was that Raymond possessed an inner spirit that transcended the bounds of wealth and social standing. It told him that if he had faith, all would work out; fairness would win over injustice; optimism was preferable to complacency; better times awaited starry-eyed believers.

"I hope that he never loses it," James said to himself. "It's what I felt in Guatemala; but it's too late to get it back now. I'm too old." He placated himself that he might be an instrument in preserving that good part of Raymond. That would be enough. "If only the student could become the teacher." he puffed as the running winded him. "I would be a willing pupil." Times were getting better for James, so he felt justified in allowing some good feeling to creep back into his outlook.

His concentration was interrupted by the front door opening in one of the small ranch houses that faced the end of the street that he was running on. It was at a tee in the road, where one street met another; the house sat opposite. As he approached he wondered who might venture out. The door opened wide, and then closed abruptly. James didn't think much of it. He turned the corner and ran on.

After he had made his way fifty yards down the road a notion came upon him to try a different route. He abruptly stopped and turned to run the opposite way. The gym teacher, his blonde ideal, Amazon goddess, was just tuning from her driveway onto the road ahead of him. James had not seen her in quite a few days. Even in school she didn't seem to hang around the teachers' lounge and James never visited the gym.

James was quite sure that she had seen him as he made the turn onto the street. He could only hope to match the pace that she set. He would never catch up. He wasn't sure that he wanted to. He was enjoying the view from behind just as much as he had the front. He did wonder what difference he would find in her perfect body, compared to Vicki's. He knew it was only a fantasy. He had slept with Vicki a grand total of two times, and he was already thinking of trading up—if trading up was indeed what it was.

Ahh, Vicki! He resolved to see what she was doing for dinner.

************

"Ethan, this is Jarrod speaking," said the voice on the answering machine tape. "I need to speak with you as soon as you get this. I've been trying to get you all morning. Call me at my office." It was the end of the message. The tape stopped turning. The red light on the machine blinked angrily.

The Reverend Chandler returned home an hour later for lunch. "You've got a message on your answering machine," his wife said without looking up. She was preparing lunch for him. "I didn't play it. I just got in, myself."

Ethan strode to his study without speaking, and played the tape. He grinned smugly as he heard the Mayor's message. He picked up the phone and punched in the number that he knew by memory.

Jarrod: This is Jarrod Morris speaking.

Ethan: Hello, Jarrod; this is Ethan.

Jarrod: Ethan, you've got to fill me in on what's going on. This whole town's buzzing about something that you said to Harvey English yesterday.

Ethan: That's just what I was hoping for. You know how Harvey likes to pass on what he hears.

Jarrod: Well, everyone thinks that you're going to expose something going on in the High School.

Ethan: Maybe so.

Jarrod: Don't play games with me, Ethan.

Ethan: It's not something for the phone, Jarrod.

Jarrod: Then stay where you are, I'll be right over.

Ethan hung up the phone. He called out to his wife in the kitchen. "Judith, Jarrod Morris will be joining me for lunch. Would you set an extra place?"

***********

James was carrying his tray with his lunch to the Teachers' Lounge when he saw Raymond Jacobs at his locker.

"Tell your mother that I liked the cookies," he called to him. "How are you doing with that assignment that I gave you?"

"It's a lot different than anything that I've ever had," Raymond answered. "I'm going to reread it, like you said to."

"Don't worry, you'll get it. Just keep at it," James answered.

"You never stop, do you?" James heard a familiar voice behind him. It was Vicki. "Teaching, I mean. I heard about your 'off the record' student." Vicki had a tray in hand and she and James walked together into the lounge. They found two empty chairs in a corner.

"How did you find out about Raymond?" James asked.

"Doris—who else?" she answered. "Let me tell you, she is mad as a wet hen. She says that Raymond is her student and she should have been offered the tutoring job first."

"I wonder how she found out," James mused.

"Her mother told her, according to her." Vicki answered. "I have to warn you. She said that if she found you tutoring Raymond on school grounds, she was going to force the union to do something. I saw you talking to Raymond, so that's why I butted in."

"Thanks! I owe you one," James said. "I'll have to make it up to you."

"I'll think of a way," Vicki said, with a slight smile.

"How about tonight? Why don't we drive somewhere for dinner?"

"Well, there is a place in Corning that's nice. We wouldn't want to be seen together here in town. To tell the truth, I think that I'd like to stay in tonight. We'll save Corning for another time."

"Sure, no problem," James looked crestfallen.

"I didn't mean stay alone," she laughed. "Why don't you come over at six and we'll have something simple."

"Hey, sounds like a plan," James said, sounding much happier.

***********

Jarrod Morris sat across the table from Ethan Chandler. He alternately glanced from Ethan to his bowl of steaming soup and back again. The Reverend sipped his soup and gnawed a piece of bread. While Jarrod looked nervous, Ethan appeared oblivious to any worry.

"Eat your soup before it gets cold," Ethan urged his guest.

"Ethan, you've told me nothing about what you said to Harvey English," Jarrod nervously reminded him.

"I'll tell you everything—after we eat our soup," Ethan answered

"I'm sorry, Ethan. I'm just not hungry," Jarrod retorted.

"Shame," Ethan said with an air of detachment. "It's good soup."

"C'mon, Ethan!" demanded the Mayor. "Out with it!"

"Nathan hired a defrocked priest from Rochester to teach Math in the High School," Chandler said calmly.

"What?" Jarrod exclaimed incredulously. "Nathan isn't careless that way. Are you sure?"

"I got it personally from Homer Briggs," Ethan answered calmly. "He's in a position to know." Morris' face took on a look of consternation. "He could have been defrocked because he's a pedophile. Many of them are," Chandler continued. "I think that he is."

"What proof do you have of that?" Morris asked.

"So you think that Nathan is careful and I'm not?" the Reverend answered evasively. "Why else would there be all the secrecy from Nathan?"

"You're not planning on exposing him on Sunday based on that?" Morris demanded.

"Why not? It's my duty, and the church is going to be filled to capacity waiting to hear what I've got to say."

You can't do that, Ethan. I've been running around the countryside on our financial campaign. Everyone will think that I've been beating the drum for you on this pedophile thing. If you're wrong, it'll blow up in our faces."

"I'm not wrong. I just know it," Ethan replied, not losing his calm. "What if I'm right? What will people say if you, the Mayor, stopped me from proclaiming it from the pulpit?"

"Look, I'm not saying to give up on it; just get more proof," Jarrod assured him.

"It's too late. Everyone is expecting..."

"That's your problem. If you come out on this too soon he could end up getting away with it. The law will be on his side. He'll sue you, the church and every board member. I'll be run out of office as Mayor. My insurance business will be ruined."

"What can I say ...?" the Reverend pleaded.

"You'll just have to finesse it." The Mayor said. "Just give them something, but no specifics and above all, no names. In the meantime, I'm going to pay a visit to Nathan."

"No, no. That will tip them off!"

"Alright, but remember—no names until we get some more information," Jarrod instructed.

"But Becky is in his class. He is her Math tutor!"

"We have to keep this secret. If you pull her out, it'll tip them off. Don't worry; pedophiles go for younger kids, anyway."

****************

James and Vicki were finishing their meal of meatloaf and baked potato. It was nice to have some company for the simple meal. They talked about James' tutoring Raymond Jacobs, and of Doris and her mother. A weekend trip later in the Fall to a Bed and Breakfast in the Wine Country was discussed, as well.

"That was good, Vicki—almost as good as the Meatloaf Special at the Bates Diner," he joked as he cleaned his plate.

"Any more 'compliments' like that one and you can forget about 'dessert'." she bantered back. "Unless, of course, you were hoping for something from the 'deep freeze'."

James held his hands in surrender. "Truce! I give up!" he said laughing. "What's for dessert, anyway?"

"Something 'tasty'." she hinted in a sultry voice. "Help me with these dishes and we'll see what we can find in the 'dessert room'."

Twenty minutes later James followed Vicki into the bedroom. She kicked off her shoes and quickly pulled her sweater over her head, leaving only her white bra covering her from the waist-up. "Let's just get naked as fast as we can," Vicki said nonchalantly. James willingly complied. In less than a minute they had shed all their clothes and Vicki turned down the bed covers. She quickly launched herself onto the middle of the bed on her stomach.

"Why don't you climb up here and give me a backrub?" she cooed up at him. James took a long look at her naked form below. Vicki had sunk her head down into the pillows and her arms were outstretched in a relaxed state. Although he had seen her nude a number of times, it was a different perspective. She looked seductive in that vulnerable pose, with a number of inviting creases and crevices exposed.

He mounted the bed and straddled her. He felt his scrotum resting against her buttocks. When he reached up to knead her shoulders the soft skin of the sack caressed her round cheeks and was caressed back, in return.

"Ohhh, that feels good!" she sighed. James agreed, and didn't ask her if she meant his loosening the muscles of her shoulders and back or the rubbing down below. "Just keep doing that for a while," she sighed again.

James' hands started working in twin circles, enlarging the radius on each pass. At one point he let them fall to the sides of Vicki's ribcage where her large breasts had squeezed out. He rubbed them a little, finding that they would be better attended later from the front position. He let his hands drift lower to the small of her back and to the top of the crevice between her cheeks. He began to wonder how to exploit the area as he sat atop her.

He reached forward again, looking for something new. As he did his erection nestled in between the rounded globes of her buttocks. It lay in there lengthwise. It felt good, so he held the position for a few seconds.

"You like that, don't you?" came the muffled voice from the pillows. Vicki flexed a little and it seemed to widen the gap. James nestled down even deeper. It felt as if a warm, gloved hand was gently stroking him. James rose back up to resume the massage. As he would reach forward he would lower himself and Vicki would allow to him submerge into that tender fold. They continued for a while, each enjoying the contact and stimulation. James left a trail of clear, viscous fluid on Vicki's back. He caught traces of the familiar, friendly aroma.

"Let me turn over now." she said languidly. James lifted up and she quickly spun around so that she was lying on her back looking up at him. James continued to straddle her, and reached forward to massage her breasts. "It's time for dessert," she announced. "Kneel on the floor alongside the bed."

James did as instructed, although confused, and Vicki turned at a right angle and maneuvered so that her center was at the very edge of the mattress. She placed her legs atop James shoulders. "Lick me!" she commanded. James was unsure where to start. He knelt before her, staring into her wet sex. "C'mon and lick me!" she repeated urgently, betraying her desire. She reached her hand to her labia and spread them open with her index and middle fingers.

When James enjoyed Vicki's oral service it had never occurred to him that he might be asked to return the kindness. He never wondered to investigate the source of the peculiar, musky aroma that signaled imminent sex, either. In the few moments, it had become quite clear and Vicki's instructions were very explicit. He didn't dare wince or hesitate. Vicki hadn't. He lowered himself so that his face was even with the target. He closed his eyes. He was too close to make out any details, anyway. He drew in a deep breath to inundate his nostril with her musk. He stretched his arms out to hold her around the hips. With his grip secure, he pulled his face close to her and snaked his tongue out between his lips. He tentatively tasted her—a small sample.

As soon as James' tongue touched her, Vicki clasped the back of his head and pulled him tight against her. The bridge of his nose slammed against her pubic bone. She bucked back at it. His tongue thrust as deeply inside her as he could reach. For good measure, Vicki wrapped her legs tightly around his head. She grasped his hair, moving his head so that his tongue hit the right spots.

She tasted a little salty. It didn't take James long to get used to it. He learned that there was a spot near the top juncture of the labia that made her purr out her pleasure the most. When his tongue hit it she pressed herself even harder against him. He concentrated on it. As he worked it harder, Vicki's breathing hastened.

"You're doing just fine, Sugar. Just keep that up for a while," she panted. James did as he was told. He was enjoying it, which surprised him. He thought that he understood better why she enjoyed doing it to him. He kept at his task, raising his head only for quick seconds to get a gulp of air. Then he would resume. Vicki didn't release her grip on his hair, or of her thighs enclosing his head. At times she would gasp or moan out her pleasure and James listened to it like a siren's song. He had no idea how long he performed on her, and he wasn't keeping track.

All at once the clamp with which she held him came loose and she backed herself away from the edge of the bed. She turned herself to resume her place lying in the middle of the bed. James remained on his knees on the floor. He waited for instructions.

"That was fine, James—real fine. Now, c'mon up here and finish me off," she breathed in a sultry, hushed voice. James remounted the bed as she spoke. "Finish yourself off, too," she added.

James wasted no time in bringing himself to her entrance. He paused to wipe the wetness from his face. "Leave it on! I like it that way." she whispered from below. James moved forward, entering her.

It felt good as he slid forward. It might even have been better than that first time. It was hard to tell—it was different. One thing that he did feel was that he was more deserving of what he received from her. He had reciprocated in advance, paid his dues. He would have no fear that he might be sated and his partner left unsatisfied. Of course, he spoke none of this, just stroked in and out. She seemed to like that, too.

He thought that he would come right away, after being so excited when his manhood had rested in the crevice of her backside. He was wrong. He stroked long and hard, stretching himself a little more each time. With each stroke she squeezed him a little harder with the strong muscles inside her. The stroking provided a pleasure of its own, not just a path of ascendancy to climax. He was glad that it was lasting a while.