The Trojan Lasagna

This gave me some hope, and I was sorely tempted to ask if she'd thought any more about us but didn't because I didn't want to pressure her. When I walked her to her door and kissed her goodnight, it wasn't a quick peck, it was long and passionate, so I took this as a good sign as well. Baby steps, right?

++++++++++

Midwestern thunderstorms are like dandelions, sprouting up regularly from April through September. The one that was drenching us now was no exception. It had been chomping at the bit since morning, dark clouds flashing with dry lightning as the humidity became unbearable. Then around 4pm, nature unleashed her fury, and the rains came in the form of a deluge.

The storm had raged for about an hour when there was a knock at the door. I answered, and it was Rosalie. Etta and Jayden were with her.

She apologized for dropping in, but explained, "My aunt Dorothy had an accident and broke her leg. She's in the hospital, so Mom and I are going to see her and take her some things. This is a big thing to ask, but can I impose on you to watch the kids for a few hours until I get back?" I looked at Mom and she nodded, so, opening the door, I waved them in.

"Come on in, kids, have a seat, I rented the Tron movie from Blockbuster, you want to watch that with me? I'll microwave us some popcorn!"

Etta grinned and shouted, "Yaaay! Popcorn!"

Following his sister's lead, Jayden took his thumb out of his mouth just long enough to quietly repeat "Yay".

Rosalie gushed, "Thank you SO much, Josh," then called out to my parents, "and thank you, Mr. and Mrs. Lujack!"

Mom smiled and answered, "Not a problem, Rosalie, glad to help. I hope your aunt's not seriously injured."

As Rosalie turned to go, I looked out the window and saw Donna waiting behind the wheel of her Mercedes SLC. She smiled and waved at me, and I waved back. For some reason, I flashed back to the first time we met and she'd treated me like I was an adult, not a kid. The thought of it gave me a warm feeling, like Donna and I had a mutual admiration for each other. It was nice.

I got the movie set up in the VCR while Mom jumped in and made the microwave popcorn. I sat on the couch between the two kids, but they quickly snuggled up under my arms on each side. By the time the movie ended, they were both asleep, so I just sat there with them, enjoying their tiny snores.

Rosalie finally came and picked them up around 8 pm. The rain had let up, so Rosalie carried Jayden while I carried Etta back to their house so she could get their teeth brushed and tuck them in bed.

Rosalie had a standing rule that we were never to kiss in front of Etta or Jayden; as the old saying goes, 'little pitchers have big ears'. She was concerned that if the children saw us, they might say something to her estranged husband Steve, and it might cause complications with their divorce. Since both the kids were asleep, she broke her own rule and gave me a nice kiss goodnight as I left and whispered, "I like being your girlfriend."

I walked back home with a smile on my face and a lump in my pants. That lump instantly shrank when I walked back in the living room, however. Mom and Dad were waiting for me with serious looks on their faces. Before I could say a word, Dad blurted out, "We need to have a talk, son."

This was kind of unexpected. My grades were fantastic, I stayed out of trouble, didn't go to parties or drink, and never stayed out past my curfew. I had no clue as to what had them so upset.

"What's going on? Do I have overdue books at the library or something?"

'No, honey, it's nothing bad," Mom quickly assured me, "your father and I just have some concerns about you."

Immediately I became defensive, and snapped, "Concerns about WHAT? I've never so much as had an after-school detention!"

Dad tried to calm me, "Take it easy, Josh, and allow us to explain. You were 11, so you might remember how Terry's senior year in high school, he was a real hellion. He was always going to parties and staying out late, generally having a blast before he left for college. Your mother and I constantly worried about him getting into trouble, but thankfully he never did."

I remembered those days all too well, as I was the loyal little brother who unlocked the backdoor after Mom and Dad went to sleep, allowing my brother to quietly sneak back in without waking them when he came home from partying. Even now, I idolized Terry.

"Well, yeah, sure, my brother liked a good time, but he wasn't stupid about it. He didn't want to make you guys look like bad parents. But he still got good grades and turned out OK, right?"

Mom jumped in, "You're right, Josh, Terry did just fine for himself. In a couple of months he's marrying Janine, and she's a wonderful girl. We're very proud of him. But it's not him we want to talk about, it's you."

My anger returned. "What, you're proud of Terry but not proud of me? I busted my ass in school! I mean, shit, have you forgotten about my SAT scores?"

Dad angrily interjected, "Watch that swearing, Mister. That's not what we're saying! Of course we're proud of you! You're twice the student your brother ever was!"

"Then what's the purpose of this conversation?" I think my parents had forgotten I was on my high school's debate team. I could do this all night and all day if need be.

"Throughout high school and college, your brother was the quintessential party boy, more interested in having a good time than seriously settling down."

"Yes, but now he's settling down with Janine, so, again, what's the problem?" This was infuriating.

I could tell my father was getting frustrated, but if he thought I was going to make this easy, fuck that. He responded angrily. "Frankly, son, you've skipped the partying part and you're acting like a damned middle-aged man! Instead of out there partying and getting drunk, you're reading bedtime stories to the neighbor's kids, or feeding them popcorn during a movie!"

I couldn't believe what I'd just heard, but Dad pretty much slammed it home when he declared, "You're just too damn young to be this serious."

Now it was my turn to be frustrated, and I scolded him, "OK, I'm confused. You're telling me you're disappointed in me because I'm a good student who's NOT running around getting drunk on my ass and then sneaking back into the house? Is that what I'm hearing? Because if it is, we need to put you in a rest home, because I think you're becoming senile!"

Before Dad could explode completely, Mom put her hand on his chest and said firmly, "David, please sit. You're not handling this well. Let me try while you calm down."

One thing about my father, he was smart enough to know when mom was right, and not too stubborn to listen to her. I admired that about him; some time ago, I'd vowed to myself that when I got married, I'd try to be just like him. I'd never admit that to him, though, especially now when he was being such a damned butthead.

"Now Joshua Alexander," my mom said -- I knew things were serious when she called me by my first and middle names -- "what we're trying to say is that we saw how good you were tonight with Etta and Jayden. What we saw went way beyond mere babysitting. Those children adore you."

I nodded, "I'm glad. They're great little kids, and I enjoy being with them. I enjoy taking care of them."

She nodded. "It's plain to see that you'll be a very good father...someday. But Joshua, please listen to reason! You're only 18, after all. The point your father is trying to make is you're not acting like an 18-year-old. You're not doing the fun things that the average high school senior does, you're doing things that a grown, mature man does. It's like you've fast-forwarded over your youth. This is what worries us. Don't get me wrong, Rosalie is lovely, and it's very sweet of her to go with you to prom, but she's an adult with 10 more years of life experience. Her goals and yours might be too different for something like this to last. Prom is one thing but what if..."

I cut her off. "What if she gets pregnant at prom like you did?" Mom looked at me, wide-eyed with shock. I scolded her, "Oh, come ON Mom! Stop acting like it was a big secret. I got straight A's in Math, I didn't need a calculator to figure out that Dad knocked you up on your prom night!"

Dad stood up and shook his finger. "Don't you dare be disrespectful to your mother!"

I shut him down immediately. "Disrespectful? I'm being exactly the opposite! You and Mom did things normal teenagers do, she got pregnant, and things still turned out great! You've raised a family with two healthy and happy kids, and you've been faithful and loving to each other for 24 years!"

I turned back to my mother. "Let me ask you: After growing up and seeing you and Dad be the way you are, why is it a bad thing if I want to be just like you two? WHY?"

Mom and Dad were both speechless now; stunned by my logic and praise, I had them on the ropes.

Now I went in to hammer home my point. "Etta and Jayden are just two innocent little kids whose world is being turned upside down by their parents' divorce. They need all the comfort they can get, so if I can give them some by reading them a story or making them dinner or watching a movie with them, I'm going to. It's certainly what Dad would do if he were in my shoes. Why is my wanting to be just like him such a bad thing?" Still no response from them, so I hit them with my final volley.

"You say you're worried I'm missing out on my youth? You're too late on that, I already missed it! I may be a good student, but for four years my social life has been nonexistent! I may have wanted a prom date, but what I really need is a damned girlfriend!"

I was breathing hard, feeling really angry and resentful about all the fun times I missed out on. I took a calming breath to regain control, then kept going, in a calmer voice now.

"I fell for Rosalie the minute I set eyes on her. Thanks to Mom teaching me how to cook, I got her to like me enough where she agreed to go to prom with me. Since then, I've told her how I feel, and what I want. She still hasn't made up her mind about the girlfriend part. The scars from her divorce haven't healed yet, so she still has to decide if she wants the same things I do."

My mother was crying softly now, but whether sad tears or happy ones, I hadn't a clue. Dad's anger had thankfully dissipated. I'd just indirectly let him know I admired him; how could he be pissed off at me for that?

I continued, "Make no mistake, I've thought this through multiple times. If Rosalie decides I'm not what she wants, well, it'll suck, but at least I gave it my best. I'll enroll at Chicago University and disappear, away from here and out of everybody's hair."

Dad quietly asked me, "What if she decides she does want the same things you do?" I couldn't believe it, he actually sounded encouraging!

"If she decides she does want me, I intend to marry her as soon as she'll have me. I'll have an amazing wife and kids, while you two will have a sweet daughter-in-law, plus grandchildren like you've been teasing me about wanting. Then, I'll enroll in a university locally because no way would I want to be apart from my family."

At that, I was all done except for one final question, "So, are you with me, or am I on my own now?"

My parents finally capitulated. Mom said, "You're our son. We love you, and no matter what choices you make, we'll always be on your side." Dad nodded in agreement but said nothing, just patted me on the back and went to bed.

++++++++++

Fairburn, Indiana -- June, 1986

Finally, the big night was almost here. That Saturday morning, I picked up my rented tuxedo and patent leather shoes, then swung by the florist shop to get Rosalie's wrist corsage and my matching boutonniere to wear on my tux.

When it was finally time to pick up my date, I pulled the Galaxie into her driveway. The white Mercedes belonging to Rosalie's mother was parked in front, so it was no surprise when Donna answered the door. She was barefoot, wearing an old sweatshirt over some tight jeans, and with her hair up in a loose bun. Not for the first time, it occurred to me that if this was what Rosalie's mother looked like at this age, Rosalie would continue to look fantastic as she got older.

Maybe I was taking too long enjoying the 'Donna Landecker experience', because she said, "Thanks for the compliment, Josh, you're looking quite distinguished yourself there."

That snapped me out of it. "Hello, Mrs. Landecker. Is Rosalie almost ready?"

She laughed, "Josh, no woman in this family has ever been ready on time for anything. She'll only be a few minutes, though." Then she stepped in close to me and murmured, "You do look fine, Josh Lujack. My daughter is one lucky girl."

If getting a quiet compliment from my date's hot mom wasn't enough, Donna shocked me further by leaning in and giving me a quick kiss on the lips. I'd never been drunk in my life, but I imagined the way that kiss got my head spinning was a close approximation. All I could do afterwards was whisper, "Wow."

"Sorry, Josh, I couldn't help myself," she apologized, smiling, "you look so good I just had to sneak a taste."

I managed to gather my wits back enough to stammer out, "You don't need to apologize, Mrs. Landecker."

"So, you liked it? Maybe just a little?" I had no idea how to even respond to that question, but the look in her eyes told me that I needed to say something. I decided to keep it simple, and, more importantly, truthful.

"Liked it? How could I not? Next to Rosalie, you're the prettiest woman I've ever met!" The look of happiness in her eyes told me I'd chosen wisely.

"It will be our little secret then," she said in a quiet voice, then sighed, adding, "You're quite the gentleman, Josh. Never before has a man I kissed said 'Wow' afterwards. For the first time in my life, I'm actually jealous of my daughter."

Unsure of how to react to that, I felt myself blush a bit. As an 18-year-old virgin, this was all very overwhelming. Then she said, "Will you do me one favor?"

"S-s-s-ure, anything," I stammered.

"From now on, please call me 'Donna'. Calling me 'Mrs. Landecker' makes me feel like a retired school teacher."

Given that I was about to take my dream girl to my senior prom and her extremely attractive mother had just stolen a kiss from me, a two-word answer was about all I could manage at this point. "Yeah, sure."

Before things could get even more awkward for me, I heard a whoop of joy, then Etta and Jayden ran up and wrapped themselves around my legs. Glad of the distraction, I knelt down to talk to them. Etta asked, "Josh, are you going to read to us tonight?"

"Not tonight, kids, I'm taking your mother to a nice dance." Judging by their groans, this was not a popular answer, and I added, "I'm sure Grandma Donna can read stories way better than I can." Then I heard a woman gently clearing her throat; looking up, I became breathless at what I saw.

Rosalie stood there, looking incredibly gorgeous. She was wearing a blue strapless tube-top maxi dress with an ankle-length skirt, slit on one side. The shiny metallic dress accented every curve she had. She was also wearing matching shoes and a silver sparkling clutch purse. Her hair was no longer in a ponytail, now it was done up in a beautiful French braid. Her ruby-red lipstick instantly made me hunger to taste that mouth, but I knew I had to be patient. With any luck, that would come later. Nonetheless, I could already tell that when we walked in to the ballroom, I'd be the envy of every guy in there.

My mouth went dry, but I managed to say "Rosalie, you look fantastic." She walked up to me and took my hand.

"You look pretty good yourself there, Mr. Lujack," she said as she put her hand to my face, "now let's go and make this night unforgettable."

++++++++++

As we drove to the dance, she asked me, "Are you as nervous as I am?"

"Are you kidding me? What do you have to be nervous about? You're perfect! I'm the one who has a reason to be nervous. Not only am I going to the first dance in four years of high school, but I'm bringing the hottest girl there!"

"You're not the one who'll be 10 years older than anybody else there. If somebody figures out how old I really am, they'll probably call the cops and have me thrown out." Reaching into her purse, she pulled out a silver hip flask. Unscrewing the top, she took a drink, then offered it to me.

To be polite, I took a swallow. The burning sensation took me by surprise, and I had to pull over so I wouldn't wreck my Galaxie due to my coughing fit. Once I regained my breath, I apologized. "Sorry, I wasn't quite ready for that. I've never had hard liquor before."

Rosalie just smiled, "Don't feel bad, I'm sure you'll have several firsts tonight." I put the car in gear, and in about 5 minutes we'd reached the Hotel Valencia, where the prom was being held. "Park over in the far corner, please," she instructed, "preferably away from the overhead lights."

Finding an isolated parking spot, I did as instructed. Undoing her seat belt, Rosalie slid across the big bench seat and put her arms around my neck, then pulled me in for a kiss. This was not like the tender and innocent first kiss she'd given me, this one was a fully passionate kiss-me-like-you-miss-me kiss, and I felt her tongue press my lips open.

As I relaxed my jaw, Rosalie slipped her tongue right in, and teased my own. My hands moved as if they had a life of their own, caressing the dress material over her breasts. She moaned into my mouth, and suddenly I found myself with a very stiff occupant in my tuxedo slacks.

When Rosalie finally pulled away, my hands were trembling. (Honestly, if not for the warm feel of her body underneath my fingers, I could have qualified as a maracas player in a salsa band.) Every nerve in my body was now tingling, as if my central nervous system was getting overloaded. While I'd been enraptured the time she'd stuck out that pouty lower lip, after that kiss I would have given up college and taken up a life of crime if she'd asked. I'd been that swept away.

I tried to find my voice again. About all I was able to get out was, "Rosalie, that was...." And then I was lost for speech.

Sensing she had me in thrall, Rosalie giggled at my partial aphasia. "Please don't think I'm a bad girl. I'm a good girl. The difference between a good girl and a bad girl is that a good girl can still be bad, but she's not bad with just anybody. She's picky about who she's bad with, and I want to be bad with you."

Then she asked seductively, "But what do YOU want, Josh? Do you want this good girl to be bad with you?"

I was having a hard time believing this was actually happening. "Yes," was about all I could muster.

"I don't know why you're acting so surprised," she said as she reached down to unbuckle my belt and unzip the fly of my slacks. "Did you honestly think that all that work you put in cooking those wonderful meals and reading stories to my children was going to go unrewarded? Couldn't you tell my panties got wet every time you put food on our table?"

"No." With all the blood running from my brain to my crotch, single-word answers were about all I could handle.

"I promised to make this the best night of your life, didn't I?"

"Yes."

"Tell me what you want." Uh oh, this was going to require more than a one-word answer. Somehow, I was able to muster up the answer.

"I want my penis in your mouth."

"That's not what you want, Josh," she teased. Sure could have fooled me! Her fingers were now lightly stroking my member, and I was doing my best holding back so as not to make a mess. The tux was rented, after all!

"Only doctors, nurses, and virgins call this a penis. Bad girls call it a cock. So tell your bad girl what you want."