The Freak Pt. 04 of 05

We drove into Massachusetts Avenue and found a place to park about a block away near Harvard Yard, the name given to the main campus. The time was just after ten. Mrs. Atkins had said to come any time so we walked together to the Admissions Office, finding her at her desk. I introduced Barbara and we took our seats. The very first thing I did was pass the folder of photographs across the desk.

"I had asked Barbara to marry me the previous Friday night—Friday before Palm Sunday. She wore her engagement ring to school on Monday and there was a bit of a disturbance among her classmates when they first saw it. The nun who was teaching the class grabbed Barbara by the wrist and wrenched the ring off her finger. Later, just before noon, Barbara approached the teacher and asked to have the ring returned."

"I told her that I wouldn't wear it to school again, but she grabbed me by the elbow and yanked me into her classroom. She called me all kinds of names. Whore and slut were the kindest. And...."

I could see Barbara having difficulty recounting the incident so I jumped in. "The results of that incident are in this folder." I sat back as Mrs. Atkins opened it for the first time, gasping as she first saw the photographic evidence of the hell that Barbara had been through.

"Barbara drove my car to my parents' house and my mother called me at school. I phoned my attorney who told me to take her to an emergency room in Yonkers while he phoned a friend who is a detective. I think you can imagine what happened next. One of the things that the nun told Barbara was that she had been beating girls for almost twenty years and that the principal knew all about it. Yesterday I went to the school to get her records and to demand the ring and action against the teacher. It was an interesting conversation because I was working for the police, the entire thing was recorded, and she basically screwed herself and the monsignor from the archdiocese who is second only to the cardinal. Later he did the same for her and himself, too. That's what we were doing yesterday. There's more, but I think you'll be able to read all about it in the newspapers even up here in Massachusetts.

"The reason I asked for the meeting is that I won't be in a dorm. I need to find an apartment to rent. Can you point us to something worthwhile?"

"The one thing I strongly suggest is that you stay away from any of the nearby apartment buildings. They are primarily for students and they tend to be noisy and there have been a lot of problems with the police. I suggest you try to find a house to rent if you can afford it. I can recommend a real estate agent if you like."

"That would be great. Next question—Barbara was set to attend a college in New York, but now she'll obviously be here with me."

"I know about St. Claudia's. It's a fine school. Tell me something about your experiences there, Barbara."

"Well, the first thing I can tell you is that I'm not in Jack's league. I had a B+-A- average at St. Claudia's. I wanted to study business management in college and I had a score of 1210 on the SAT."

"I'd like to suggest Lesley University. I happen to know that they have openings for September, especially since you won't need a dormitory room. Some students fail to understand that they need to maintain their grades during senior year so occasionally college acceptances are revoked. My husband is Director of Admissions there. Why don't I call him for you? Incidentally, Lesley is almost next door here in Cambridge."

"What is the school like," I asked.

"It's much smaller than Harvard and it's more for students like Barbara—good students, just not good enough for a school like this. Their programs in business and education are well regarded. How long will it take to get Barbara's records?"

"Um...about ten minutes; I have her records in the trunk of my car. I had planned to give them to my school next Monday when Barbara registers."

"You know, a lot of public schools won't accept a married student."

"I have that covered. My attorney has secured a writ from a judge of the New York State Court of Appeals. That's the state's highest court. The writ orders the school district to accept her. Apparently, there's nothing in the state law barring married students, but the cost of fighting the school's decision is more than many can afford.

"I know that colleges don't want records that come from students because of the potential for cheating, but I could have lied about having them."

"Hmmm. Okay, can you get them for me? I'll phone my husband while you're gone." I was out of my chair in a flash, remembering to give Barbara a quick kiss before disappearing onto the sidewalk.

* * * * *

Mrs. Atkins wasted no time, picking up the phone as soon as Jack was out the door. I was nervous as I sat there. I had never imagined that I would be able to find a college so easily or so quickly. I listened carefully as Mrs. Atkins spoke to her husband.

"Morning, Roger, I'm going to do you a big favor and send you a young woman as a prospective student in business." She continued after a short pause. "Yes, she's here in the office as we speak. Remember last night when I told you about the outstanding student-athlete who was coming to see me? The student I'm referring to is his wife. They have an extremely interesting story to tell you. I'm going to look over her records in a few minutes. I'm sure they'll tell you why they have her official records. Yes, I know, but in this case I'm sure they're real. You can take me out to dinner if it works out for you. Okay...bye, dear."

"Is everything okay," I asked.

"Yes, Barbara; he'll see you this afternoon and he'll arrange for a student to take you on a tour. You'll find Lesley to be an intimate place. There are about 4,500 students, but most of them are part-time graduate students either in education or business. Those are their two claims to fame. There are only about 1200 undergrads, but because of the graduate students the library and other facilities are really very good as is the faculty even though they lack the snob appeal the faculty has here. Truthfully, I like many of their instructors more than ours. They're more down to earth. I think you'll enjoy the tour. How many students in your school?"

"St. Claudia's has about 400 students...all girls, but I'm sure you understand that." I was about to continue, but Jack rushed back into the office, passing a grey folder across the desk to Mrs. Atkins.

"Wow, I guess you do have the official records. How'd you manage this, anyway?"

"My lawyer's brother-in-law is a judge. He explained what had happened to Barbara and asked for an order for the records. It was either give them to me or my attorney would have phoned the police. What they don't know is that my lawyer had already phoned the police and they are definitely involved. Mind if I ask what your religion is?"

"Not at all; we're Episcopalians. Hardly anything is a sin to us. I know all about Catholic guilt. There are probably millions of Catholics in the Boston area." She stopped chatting then and began to peruse Barbara's records. After about ten minutes she took a pad and pencil to check some figures. "Okay, Barbara, I compute your academic average to be...88.4 percent. You won't have any trouble at Lesley." Reaching into her desk she retrieved a multicolored map of what I presumed was Cambridge. "Here's a map of the area. I'm circling the address for you. It's only three blocks away. I'll phone my husband once you leave and he'll expect you between 1:00 and 1:30.

"If you want a good, cheap place for lunch try Elsie's behind the west end of Harvard Square. Their hot pastrami can be a bit fatty, but it's really good. Just turn left outside and go straight ahead through the Square. Turn right and you'll see it on the left. I'll tell my husband to suggest a real estate agent for you, too. He knows several good ones in the area." She stood, shook our hands and Jack led me outside into the beautiful sunny day.

* * * * *

We did have lunch at Elsie's and Mrs. Atkins' assessment was right on track. We left, following the map, in plenty of time to meet with Mr. Atkins. He met us in the lobby and escorted us to his office. "Barbara, I'd like to take a look at your records even though Sandra has already done so." He continued a few minutes later after quickly scanning Barbara's file. "Okay, everything seems to be in order. If you like what you see here today you can come back and complete an application."

"Under the circumstances with my school I don't know how I will get any references."

"Well, let me hear your story and then I'll decide what we'll do." He sat back in his chair, but listened carefully--stopping Barbara and me several times and I could tell that he had some doubts until I slid the folder of photos across his desk.

"Who took these pictures?"

"I don't know his name, but he was the Yonkers Police photographer. Barbara's back has been so bad that even this morning I was only able to touch it to apply an ointment and bandages. I don't know how she was able to handle the drive up here."

"I understand that you married her to protect her."

"Yes, sir—that's correct. I promised that I would love, cherish, and protect her when I proposed so I would never allow her to return to that school. Unfortunately, her foster parents would have insisted had I not stepped in."

"Foster parents? Are you an orphan, Barbara?"

"Yes sir; technically I was a ward of the state since my parents died when I was three. I've been lucky until now to have the same wonderful foster parents the entire time. I've heard some real horror stories about other kids."

"Yes. Hmmm. Okay! I have someone waiting outside to take you on a tour. She's a sophomore. Let's go find her." We stepped outside into the lobby and an attractive brunette stood. Mr. Atkins introduced us to Michelle Baker then left us to her. I could easily understand why she would be chosen as a guide. She was knowledgeable, bubbly, and gregarious with an excellent sense of humor. We had a great time with her over the next hour and I had to agree with her. Lesley was an interesting and friendly place. We were stopped and greeted several times by students and staff alike. I could tell by the expression on Barbara's face that she would make every effort to enroll.

It was almost five by the time Barbara had finished her application and had received Mr. Atkins' approval. "I'm just looking for a reason to take my wife out to dinner. She told me she'd thrash me if I didn't accept you, but I would have under any circumstances. I think you'll fit in well here." He recommended a real estate agent in the area and marked the address on our map. We shook hands and left, with Barbara elated and me relieved. Now we only had to find a place to live.

Rather than return to our motel in nearby Belmont I drove us into Boston toward Faneuil Hall and Durgin-Park. I had heard about this place when I was here with my parents, but Dad didn't want a big meal. Now, even after a big lunch I was starving, I guessed from all the nervous energy I had expended during the day. Apparently, Barbara agreed because we each ordered their huge prime rib as we sat side by side in the middle of a long table with about twenty other patrons. I enjoyed the company and it seemed that they did, too.

Several diners asked why we were here, immediately recognizing our New York accents. We explained that I was headed to Harvard and Barbara to Lesley and that brought another whole series of questions and comments. But when someone noticed my height and asked if I played basketball Barbara couldn't contain herself. You would have thought that I could walk on water to listen to her, but when she said the words "All-American" the men at the table went wild. They wanted to know all my statistics and were disappointed that I didn't know most of them. "I only know that we won 129 games and five state championships in a row. That's all that matters." Then Barbara mentioned that I played baseball, too and I was relieved when our huge slabs of meat arrived.

We were stuffed when we left the restaurant and eating like that always makes me tired so, by the time we arrived at the motel I was ready to sack out. Barbara, however, had other ideas. Remember that part where she told me she was going to show me her love every minute of every day? She wasn't kidding. First, she dragged me into the shower. It was close quarters in the tub—so close that Barbara's succulent breasts were constantly rubbing into my body as she carefully ran her soapy hands over my torso and especially over my cock which responded strongly in spite of my exhaustion. Who would ever think that taking a shower could be so much fun?

Finally, Barbara handed me what was left of the tiny bar of soap and I had the opportunity to return the favor. After more than a week of pain she was at last able to tolerate my touching her back. There was still discomfort, she told me, but that was all. I rubbed in the ointment until it dried, but the bandages were no longer needed.

"I'm looking forward to doing missionary again," she whispered as we climbed into the bed. "I enjoy wrapping my legs around you and forcing you as deep as possible into me." I thought that was a great idea, too. As predicted, Barbara had gotten her period on Saturday while we were at the bungalow. I would never have guessed how horny having it would make her. Her only restriction was no oral on her. Twice she had sucked me to completion, swallowing every drop my testicles and prostate could produce and I had always thought that was a lot.

Tonight, it would be cowgirl. For one thing we still had to consider the injuries to her back. For another, Barbara thought it would be neater. She would rush to the bathroom to insert a tampon then return to me with a wet washcloth to wipe her blood from my organ. That's what she had done almost a dozen times over the past four days although being home with my parents and sisters had crimped our style considerably.

Barbara pulled the bedspread and blanket down as I lay on the left side of the double bed. She carefully placed her body perfectly on top of mine, her incredible breasts easily within my reach, as her lips sought and found mine. Her tongue spent more time in my mouth during these sessions than it did in hers. Barbara's love and passion for me never failed to amaze. Reaching between her legs I found her extremely wet and eager. I grabbed my rod and aimed it in the direction of Barbara's slit. She did the rest, beginning with a slow sensual rhythm.

I was tempted to move my hands behind my head so I could relax and watch Barbara in action, but her firm breasts with their hard swollen nipples were irresistible. I rolled them gently between my fingers while massaging each orb, knowing how much Barbara loved tit play. Sure enough, she threw her head back and drove that big sensitive clit into my hard muscles. In less than a minute she was humping me with abandon, developing the friction that would bring me to my inevitable climax even as the friction on her clit was doing the same for her.

I had read in the Kinsey Report that simultaneous orgasms were extremely rare. I wouldn't know from our experience because Barbara and I had achieved that goal almost every time and from the tremors in our bodies I guessed we'd reach it again tonight. Suddenly, Barbara reached for the other pillow and held it to her face. It swallowed her scream just as my hips drove into her, lifting her body easily and holding it there until both of our climaxes had ebbed.

I had shied away from wrapping Barbara in my arms for fear of hurting her, but tonight she pulled my arms up and around her body. "Damn, Jack, but I've missed this. I've always felt so loved in your arms. Unfortunately, I have to get up." She kissed me and jumped out of bed, trotting to the bathroom. It was fascinating watching her insert the tampon then washing her groin with the wet cloth. Barbara and I were very open with each other. We pissed and moved our bowels in front of each other and I'm sure we'd wipe each other if necessary.

Barbara cleaned me then rinsed the washcloth in the basin and returned to lie on my body as she had every night since we had begun making love. I pulled the blanket over us, kissed Barbara and turned off the light. We fell asleep almost immediately after a long but productive day.

* * * * *

We were up early and asked the motel office where we could find a decent breakfast. They sent us up the road to a big shopping mall where there were several restaurants in outbuildings. We found one that was like a diner—well, it was the closest thing we could find. I assumed that diners weren't all that big in Massachusetts. We ate heartily not knowing what we might find for lunch.

Following our map we arrived at the real estate agent's office just after nine. Sara Kline was a woman in her forties and it was obvious that she was a native from her accent. She had several ideas that we found helpful. She suggested that we look in neighboring Somerville, a blue-collar community nearby because property values were somewhat lower there and also that we think about buying if we planned to be here for at least four years. "I'm sure you're aware of the problems with renting. When you leave you get nothing back. On the other hand, you are responsible for maintaining the house and yard if you buy. Here that means shoveling a lot of snow."

She drove us around for more than three hours, first showing us several apartments. They were much as Mrs. Atkins had described. The hallways were littered and there was loud music bursting from apartments even though it was only mid-morning. Next she showed us several houses that were for rent. While they were quieter, they were all in poor physical condition and one house had a front porch that I was sure would collapse under my weight.

Finally, she showed us four houses that were for sale. I remembered several things my parents had said about when they were looking. I checked floor plans, knowing that nothing we looked at would be ideal. We wanted three bedrooms—a fairly big one for the master and one for a study center. The third we could use for storage or as a guest room in case we had a little visitor for a weekend. I knew that Carole would love to come for a few days. I also wanted at least one and a half baths and an eat-in kitchen would be a plus. The first two we saw were too small. One had windows that were ancient without working storm windows. Replacing them would be a major expense. The second had terrible water pressure and the third bedroom was smaller than the closet in Big C's bedroom. It helped that I had worked summers and weekends for my dad. I checked out all of the plumbing to make sure it was up to snuff with copper supply piping and galvanized and cast-iron wastes. I also checked out the fixtures—sink, basins in the bathrooms, toilets, and tubs.

The third house was a big improvement. There was a small nook off the kitchen where we could eat most nights and the master bedroom was twelve by fifteen—big enough to handle most bedroom furniture sets easily. There was also a small powder room—basin and toilet—between the kitchen and living room. It had a full basement with a decent oil burner that had been replaced only five years ago. It was on a slight hill so water from snow or rain would drain away from the house. The lot was small, but that was the norm in Somerville.

The fourth house was okay—better than the first two, but not as good as the third. Mrs. Kline told us that the husband had been transferred and that they were eager to sell. Asking $18,500, we offered $16,500. I knew that they would come back with a counter offer and we'd make another before we settled. How could I know that? I'd had two flashes while riding in the car.