The Humper Game Pt. 07 Ch. 06

Author's note:

This is, in all its seven parts and their many chapters, one very, very long story. If long stories bother you, I suggest you read something else.

No part of this story is written so as to stand on its own. I strongly suggest that you start with the beginning of Part 1 and read sequentially—giving up at any point you choose, of course.

Earlier portions of this story were basically chronological, with occasional jumps ahead to wrap up threads that wouldn't be pursued further. From about this point, events as presented are somewhat less in chronological sequence. To some extent, different threads are followed to a stopping point, and then another thread is picked up at an earlier point. I think this won't be confusing.

All sexual activity portrayed anywhere in this story involves only people at least eighteen years old.

This entire story is posted only on literotica.com. Any other public posting without my permission in writing is a violation of my copyright.

Ellen and I both had jobs waiting, thanks to my father. That is, he had contacts with people who knew people who knew of opportunities. This gave us openings, no more. We had to apply and to satisfy those who were actually in a position to hire, but we were placed somewhere near the front of the line. Or lines. It seemed that a lot of job openings never were posted, but were filled in this way, probably even more in Washington than elsewhere. We jettisoned some of our stuff—expecting to buy newer and better when we had moved, or just getting rid of it. The rest we packed up and shipped, or drove ourselves, to the DC area. We had found an apartment not too many miles from Mom's and Dad's house. Driving across the country, together but in separate cars, fully loaded, was an experience I hoped never to repeat, but we made it safely.

Ellen's work involved a lot more hours than she wanted long term, but for a beginning that was probably very good. She was working with clients who had a variety of different problems, trying to help them. Most of these were people who couldn't afford much, and so came to the agency that hired her because the fees were low or in some cases even waived entirely. They were, of course, subsidized, by the government or a foundation.

Sometimes she came home exhilarated, feeling that she had really helped someone. Other times, she was frustrated and moody, particularly when there were obvious steps a client needed to take but the person was unwilling—or when the person professed willingness and understanding but continued with the old behaviors. We spent a lot of time with me holding her, trying to comfort and reassure her without saying much. She knew that she needed to learn to distance herself some from the client and his or her problems, but she found this very hard. In part, she felt—and thought—that putting up such walls opened her to a formulaic approach to their problems. I thought she was right, that she needed to really care about the people she helped, but still she needed to learn to put other people's problems behind her when she came home. Not, "It's just a job," which she was told repeatedly should be her attitude—but also not as though these people were her family or close friends. I didn't know how to help her find the right balance.

My own work wasn't what I had expected to be doing, but I found myself fascinated. The Washington area has an overabundance of specialized museums and libraries, most of them involving history in some way. I was working for a museum—though it included a library. I had to read and organize materials—working closely with their librarian—but also to help people consulting the museum's collection do research, or in some cases do it for them. Or just answer questions. Sometimes, organize and teach "workshops"—special classes on specific topics, open to the public or to groups who requested them. I continued to struggle with giving people too much information, but on occasion I dealt with people who were very eager for every last detail I could give them, and that was a joy—for them, too, I thought. I had some repeat students in the workshops, and I thought that was why. I helped other staff members, too, as needed.

Both before and after taking that job, I consulted by phone with Uncle John and with Professor Wheeler, as well as two others of my professors. They thought it was a very good opportunity for me and encouraged me to take it. As I got into it and began to feel, well, almost like this job was designed with me in mind, they all were very pleased and too polite to say, "I told you so," even though they had.

I enjoyed working one on one—or with two or three—more than teaching a group of twenty or thirty. But even a formal teaching setting for a group was really enjoyable, to me. I had to work to keep from drowning a class in details, OK, but the students were mostly there because they cared about the topic. And it was a far cry from the academic environment I'd imagined when I'd discussed teaching with Professor Wheeler and Uncle John. A college instructor or even an associate professor typically spends years teaching introductory courses, the same ones over and over. My workshops were usually unique, however much overlap there might be, because they were mostly one-time classes aimed at specific requests. The handful that were given repeatedly, well, they mostly ran three or four sessions, perhaps two or three times per year as there was demand—and the students were more varied and generally more mature than the typical group of college freshmen. They were also devoting their own time out of busy lives, so they were there because they really wanted to be.

Ellen and I were both too new at our jobs to get the vacation time we wanted. I felt we needed to visit Ellen's parents, and we did at Thanksgiving, but even a four-day weekend didn't give us much time there. I thought Mother and Father understood and accepted this. We also went there for Christmas, again. And Ellen's father had business in Washington often enough that they came to visit us more often than we could visit them—Mother coming with him just for the chance to be with us. I thought they were impressed and pleased with my job. Very possibly Father had called in some favors from some associates to get reports on how I was doing. If so, apparently the reports were very favorable. It seemed that they both thought I was taking care of Ellen pretty well, too.

Over a couple of years, we had several brief visits from John Miles. Once Mary Miller came along with him. Clearly he was monitoring us, wanting to see whether we would be available and suitable for staff—at the school, or the whole island, or both, I was never completely sure—and to nudge us in that direction if he needed to. This was frustrating to me simply because it was so indirect. I wanted more information. On the other hand, if I really was needed, I would feel obligated. That school had given me a kind of maturity, in many areas, that I thought I never would have gained otherwise. More, I mostly shared their concerns about the present directions of the country, and saw no practical way to do anything about it.

Mary mentioned one thing more. There were training videos for sex ed instructors, which wasn't much of a surprise. But it seemed that three separate videos had been put together involving me, specifically.

One dealt with my complaints about the way the program was handled, and they both said it was really pretty effective. I hoped that meant it would really bring about some changes! It apparently included rants on my part about oral and anal sex activities, but especially about the need for instructors to bear down on the goal of pleasing one's partner rather than oneself. "Rant" was not the term Mary used—she said "comments"—but I remembered making the speeches in question, and that's what they had been.

The second included some of my discussions with Bella, about my own experiences. The third covered my problems responding to Sam, how the problems had been solved, and what had happened between us thereafter. I wasn't exactly sure what those were supposed to teach. I avoided asking. I was a little afraid of the answers I would get.

Not too surprisingly, given our ages and state of life, over those couple of years Ellen and I were invited to a lot of weddings. Kelly and Jon I've already mentioned. Jim and Helen, Art and Susan, Pete and Tammy, Claire and Jeff, Barbara and Jon, Rosa and George. Some other friends, too. Again, we were short on vacation time. Our employers allowed us to take some unpaid leave—Ellen's with more reluctance than mine—but we didn't get to all of them that we wanted to.

We did get to see Jim and Helen married. Well, we kind of had to—I was Jim's best man. I was surprised at how beautiful Helen looked, but not at how happy they both were. I had some things I wanted to say to them, but I thought that the final preparations and the wedding day weren't a suitable time. But we had called them—each of them—occasionally, to touch base, and we kept this up after their honeymoon, so eventually I brought them up.

I usually called Jim, but this time I called Helen direct. I made sure Jim was there before I went on. Ellen was with me—for this kind of thing she almost always was.

"Helen, I've thought about what you said to me, back right before our wedding, and I have a couple of things I need to say about it. First off, I forgave you, and I still do, for anything and everything you may have done to me that was wrong, if I didn't make that clear. I only want to say, I think there's less than you felt like. You said that you thought you had probably made disparaging remarks about me to some people. I guess you would know, so you probably did—and I forgive you for them!—but they can't have been too serious, since I never heard anything about them. It seems they probably were general, and people likely just saw you didn't like me, and there's nothing wrong with that! And everything else you said involved just your own feelings. I'm glad you straightened those out, and I hope I deserve what you think now, but unless you somehow treated me wrong as a result, there's nothing to forgive there.

"A little bit, you probably did, but I guess I'm as much to blame as you. It was obvious that you didn't much like me, but there's nothing to forgive in that, certainly. But I have to confess to you, what I saw in you was probably affected by it. I judged you to be, well, kind of prissy and maybe self-righteous. You know, 'Everyone has to measure up to my standards in every way,' like that. And I assumed it was just the way you were, so I didn't come and talk with you about it. We never had to work closely enough together for this to be a problem—or for me to learn better. I don't think I did you any serious harm because of this, but I failed you as much as you failed me in this, so I hope you'll forgive me, too."

I waited for a minute or so. Helen finally said, "I see what you meant about me, a minute ago. I hope you were wrong in what you thought about me, but I doubt there's anything actual to forgive. By now, I know you well enough to say, if you had anything specific in mind, you'd say so. If there is anything, though, I forgive you, without any question at all."

"Thank you. The other thing I really had to bring up is for Jim, though you come into it too, some.

"Jim, one thing I've been noticing, and especially when we were there for the wedding. Um. I'm not sure how to put it, and I did try to think ahead. You always tended to be, um. To put up a front to everyone that was kind of goofy. It took a little getting used to, to see that it was a front, not the real you, you know. But that seems to have kind of faded out of the picture. That worries me just a bit. I don't mean you needed it, I'm just worried a little about why. I guess I should just come out and say that I hope Helen hasn't pushed you to change it, against your will somehow. If it's for her, but if it's not against your wishes, that's fine. And both of you, please forgive me for butting into your affairs."

There were hoots of laughter from both of them, but Jim answered. "Phil, you sure called that one wrong! It kind of bothered Helen at first, but she got used to it."

She interrupted. "I decided that if it bothered me that much, I needed to tell Jim we should just drop everything. That was way back when we first got started. And once we'd been together a while, I learned to enjoy it. Mostly."

Jim went on after a moment. "Actually, it's my boss. She's nice, or this would be a lot harder to take. After I'd been there a little while, I guess when she was sure I was really a good choice in everything else, she sat me down for a talk. She wasn't as gentle about it as you just were, though. She said that I'd seemed to be the perfect candidate for the job in everything else, but that they'd all kind of worried about that, when they were deciding. And she basically said, when you have to deal with clients, once they get a chance to know you they'll see that you're reliable. But some of them won't wait for that, they'll just take their business elsewhere. She said, so we really need you to stop being like that, at least on the job. It's fine to think things are funny, but please keep it to yourself. Well, she's the boss, so I said I'd work on it. And of course, she was right, anyway. It's one thing to irritate a teacher, even if you may have him for another class later—and I did irritate some of them, and they said so. But she's right, if I make a client think our whole outfit may be undependable, that's a problem.

"Anyway, it's kind of automatic, by now."

Helen said, "He just saves all his weird thoughts up for me!"

I said, "I'm glad to hear that. I mean what Jim said, but also what you just said, Helen. I learned to enjoy it, but even so, sometimes it was kind of frustrating, trying to get a straight answer out of you.

"In fact. Um. I don't think this is gossip, at this point, and I hope it will amuse you. You remember how Barbara Dearie used to be. I don't know whether you realized that I took a turn with her, that first day of the game. You were both busy with everyone else, absolutely everyone except me and three forfeits—and Mr. Miles, I guess—watching Ms. Miller. But Barbara had been really abused by Wagner, I'm sure you remember that. So when I went to her, first we just talked about that for a couple of minutes. She really was hoping to avoid having to get screwed, but she knew that couldn't last, of course. So I told her I was there for a turn, and that by the rules she couldn't say no, but that if she felt she needed to I wouldn't insist. Well, she was really down, so I tried to amuse her—to relax her some—by being silly. I quoted from The Pirates of Penzance, to be specific. And she told me I wasn't a goofball, so to quit trying to sound like I was. But she said I sounded like you, and she said you weren't really a goofball, too, even if you liked to sound like it. Or maybe she said you liked to pretend you were.

"I think she really was slightly amused, though, and that may have helped a little. Something did, anyway, as you know."

Helen said, "That was you? It was really obvious that she had changed, totally, about that time. And of course she was part of your little group, pretty soon. But I had no idea you were the reason for the change. And that's something else really good you did, that I didn't know about, however you managed it. She was always nice, but she kept it hidden pretty deep, and she had never been happy before, the way she was after that!" I suddenly remembered that Molly had thought there might be a couple of girls—no more—on first name terms with Barbara, before that, and wondered whether one of them might have been Helen. I didn't follow up on that, though. None of my business, really.

So in the end, I thought everything I needed to air with Helen was out in the sunshine, and I also could quit worrying about Jim. After that, though, when we talked, he would sometimes let bits of the old Jim, the goofball Jim, peek through for us. And I wasn't all that sorry about the change, as long as it wasn't against his will. I was glad he had an outlet for his off the wall sense of humor and logic, too.

There's a bit in one of Rex Stout's novels that reminds me a lot of Jim. The narrator, Archie Goodwin—Nero Wolfe's leg man for the detective work Wolfe won't go out and do himself—Goodwin was a lot the way Jim used to be, though not usually quite as much. But part of his job was to needle Wolfe into getting off his duff—figuratively—and working, so this was an asset. Sometimes.

But anyway, at one point Goodwin was dealing with a dangerous situation, involving a bad guy who was trying to recruit him. And he said something cute, and the guy told him something like, Your problem is that you find things funny. And someday something you find funny will blow your head off. And Goodwin-as-narrator says something like, Only later did it occur to me that wouldn't prove it wasn't funny.

That was a lot like Jim back in high school, really. Learning when to be serious was a very good thing for him. Goodwin is kind of a smart aleck pain in the neck, to my mind—even while I enjoy reading his point of view.

Pete and Tammy had us for best man and matron of honor. They both had lots and lots of close friends of long standing, so this was a big surprise and a big deal to me. Like Jim's and Helen's, this wedding was a very joyous occasion for me. And we had the added joy of seeing their parents and Pete's uncle Jim again. The rest of the band was there, too, and what dancing there was at the reception was contras and squares.

I wished we could have gotten to more people's weddings.

We couldn't go to Jon Voyage's wedding with Barbara Dearie—it was in Barbara's home town, and we couldn't get time off—but the two of them had moved not far away from us. After they were married, we got together with them around once a month, for a couple of years or so. Later on not quite so much, but we still saw them fairly often. It was really kind of a shock to remember how shy and standoffish Barbara had been, before the first day of the game in gym. She had turned into one of the warmest, most outgoing people I had ever met, and Jon was really blessed to have her. And she to have him!

It also turned out that, somewhere along the line, Barbara had decided to go by "Barb." She had decided not even to mention it to people who knew her well as Barbara, so we never heard until they were living near us. She would laugh if I apologized for forgetting, and it did take me a while. I think it was a little like Sam—she felt it fit her better, the way she was now.

As I've already told you, we made it to Kelly's and Jon's wedding, flying in Friday night and back Sunday afternoon. At the reception, I sat with Pastor Mac and his wife, which was a blessing for me and possibly for them.

Revision: 8/14/2019