My Second Piece of Ass Ch. 17

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Someone spiked the punch.
4.8k words
4.47
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Part 17 of the 33 part series

Updated 09/22/2022
Created 02/21/2004
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Fable
Fable
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“Its after 8:30, aren’t you going to call your girlfriend?” Laura wanted to know on Thursday night.

“Not tonight,” I answered, not having the heart to tell her that Huley had ignored me at school. She was not in the cafeteria when I got into line. I found a two person table and took a seat facing the serving line, thinking I would spot her when she arrived. But she didn’t show up until I was ready to leave.

She was with Jane, a friend that I had only been introduced to. They were having a good time together when I approached.

“Hi, want me to sit with you while you eat?” I asked, feeling foolish because it was clear that she intended to have lunch with Jane.

Turning to me as if I was a stranger asking which way to the nearest telephone, Huley stiffened and said, “no thank you.” Her dour look and lack of emotion was as visible as the lack of sleep that was evident under her eyes. There was a swelling and her mouth drooped sadly. I wanted to reach out and move the stray strand of hair that hugged her left cheek but I didn’t dare. I walked away.

Laura accepted my short answer and I resumed my study, thankful that she had not been more curious. Telling her that our lunch date the day before had ruined my chances of spending the afternoon with Huley in her bedroom was not an option. If she found out Laura would blame herself; I vowed that she would never know. But if she pressed me I would have to make up some excuse for Huley not wanting to accept my calls.

That night in bed we talked. Laura’s news was that Mr. Husky, the man who had sold us the house, had stopped by to admire the paint job.

“At first I thought he was considering painting his rental property and wanted you to give him an estimate. But that was not it. He wanted to know if we would be interested in buying his property. You know he’s been advertising it. He wants to move near his daughter in southern California I believe.”

Laura took my hand in hers, saying nothing, letting me absorb what she had told me. I was puzzled, wondering why she was telling me this.

“What did you tell him? That we have no interest in his property?”

“Exactly, I sent him away.”

“He must be desperate to get rid of his real estate,” I offered, still not seeing the relevance. Why were we wasting time discussing this?

“Exactly, that’s what I thought. I called Harold, thinking that I would do him a favor. He makes a hobby of profiting on desperation.”

“Harold?”

“Mr. Waite. Harold Waite, the attorney.”

“Oh, sure, I know Harold.” I said, feeling a jab to my rib cage.

“Harold said it would be worth looking into. He had me call Mr. Husky to make an appointment to see the property. I told him Saturday morning was the only day you have free.”

“Me, what do I have to do with it?”

“Harold asked for you to come along. I told him we would bring Jimmy and Charles. Can you arrange that?”

“Sure,” I said without letting myself dwell on her motives. Laura was someone I never questioned. Perhaps it was my desire to please her. Perhaps it was simply that I trusted her. Although I was curious, asking what Laura was thinking would be like questioning the bond that held us together.

“There are four houses so it will take most of the morning, don’t you think? I want to present our findings to Harold on Monday after I get back from seeing Doctor Torpid.”

“Okay,” I said, planning the schedule for Saturday in my mind. Davie would take Eric and the two college students to work on the next house. In the afternoon I would take Charles with Jimmy and myself to do estimates for new painting work in the afternoon. Then we would place orders for the special items needed for the construction jobs.

“What day is this?” Laura asked, moving her body just enough to make me aware that she was still there.

“It’s Thursday but I think you know that, why did you want me to say it?”

“How many more days?”

“Let’s see, there are Friday and Saturday and Sunday. Do we count Monday?”

“I’m so horny. I couldn’t be any hornier. I wonder if I’ll be any hornier tomorrow or the next day. Do you think there are degrees of horniness?”

“Stop, please stop talking about it.”

“Does it bother you? Am I bothering you? Talking like this? Does it bother you?”

“You know it does.”

“Does this bother you? My tits on your chest?”

“You know it does but don’t move. Stay like that, don’t move.”

“Is your cock hard?”

“You know it is and don’t touch it. And stop talking this way. Stop teasing me.”

“Okay,” she said, “think about something else. Let’s try to get some sleep.”

Trying to divert my mind to something else I settled on the letter from my parents and how they referred to Laura as “that girl.” I needed to set them straight. I would tell them that I was not wasting my time. I would tell them “that girl” was part of me, my main reason for living.

By the next morning it did not seem so important to set them straight. My parents had the right to be concerned for my welfare. It was their duty; keeping them in the dark was mine.

I felt awkward telling three older guys about the change in plans. Jimmy and Charles were agreeable to wearing something other than their work clothes for one day. They seemed pleased that their professional skills were going to be used to assess the condition of property a rich guy had asked us to report on. Davie was happy to be entrusted with the job of prepping the next paint job with the help of Eric and the two college students. It was only Eric who raised his eyebrows when I told him he would be helping Davie.

At lunchtime I was busy speaking to Ken and Paul, the two painters helpers when Huley walked by. She did not turn and pretended not to notice me. Faltering in my speech for a few seconds, I recovered and finished giving directions to the house we were to tackle the next day. Happy to receive their pay for the previous Saturday, they didn’t seem to notice how I had stumbled through my little speech.

That night we went over the books Laura had been keeping on the painting business, bringing me up to date as to what she wanted me to do while she was away. She had just started to tell me how she thought we should go about evaluating the real estate the next day when Sylvia came in. She had worked the late shift at the library, closing at nine P.M.

“We have no secrets from you,” Laura said to Sylvia. She was beginning to fill Sylvia in on what Mr. Waite had asked us to do when the phone rang. The “leave a message and we’ll get back to you,” recording was ending when I heard Huley’s voice. “Randy, I need to speak with you about……”

“Hi,” I said, having dived across the bed to pick up the receiver.

“Hi.”

“What is it that you need to speak to me about?” I said, trying to sound reserved, remembering that she was mad at me and had been avoiding me.

“About tomorrow night. Can you come to a party with me?”

I scooted around on the bed so I could stand, and then paced the floor as far as the phone cord would reach, considering how to answer. What was I supposed to say?

“Randy, I’m sorry,” her voice was soft and syrupy. I pictured her in her room. It was after nine so her father was there, probably in the family room waiting for his snack to be served.

“What are you sorry for?” I asked, sure that she had lain a trap.

“For the way I treated you in the cafeteria. I’m sorry.”

“What about the way you treated me in the parking lot? You ran off without asking why I couldn’t come to your house that afternoon.”

“That too. I ran off because you hurt me. I was so looking forward to being with you all afternoon. Did you see my hair? It was for you.”

What she had said was totally unacceptable. It was not an apology. But I was curious as to why she was calling. And, I was thinking of her now, in the bedroom, wearing what?

“I called you that night. Where were you?”

“I know. Petri gave me your number.”

“Where were you?” I repeated, wondering if she would tell me.

“I went to see Jake in the hospital.”

“You know, Huley, there is one thing I don’t understand. I have one question. Why the fuck are you calling?”

My outburst only set her back for two seconds. With her sweetest voice she launched into a prepared speech. “Because that’s what couples do. I called to say I was sorry. I told you I went to see Jake and I called you to invite you to a party tomorrow night. That’s what couples do.”

Without my asking she told me about her visit to Jake Trainer’s hospital room. “I was feeling sorry for myself. Mama and Papa were out. I felt deserted because you had bailed out on me. I didn’t know if you had a date or something. That’s what I imagined. Petri wasn’t any help. I drove down to the hospital and found Jake. I just wanted someone to talk to, really,” she paused.

“What did you talk about?” I asked.

“Nothing really, there were other people there, his sister and a couple of guys from the team. The only thing that I remember was when he asked about you. He said we looked like a couple together.”

“How come you ignored me in the cafeteria?” How come you didn’t call me back?”

“I was still mad at you I guess. But it was so hard. I wanted to call you, really I did,” she answered.

“I have one more question.”

“What is it?”

“Did you wear your hair that way to see Jake? Did you have it in the bun?”

She was silent for a full minute. I pictured her entering Jake Trainer’s room wearing a short skirt and her hair stacked on the back of her head with five small black combs holding it in place. Five combs to be removed, one by one.

“I did it grand mother Hernandez,” she said.

It took a few seconds to sink in. “You braided it?”

When I returned to the kitchen table it was evident that Laura and Sylvia were very curious.

“What was that all about?” Laura quizzed me.

”I’ve got a date tomorrow night,” I said, “we’re going to a party.”

As planned, Jimmy and Charles arrived early the next morning, both dressed casually. We had coffee and Laura went over how we would go about appraising the deal proposed by Mr. Husky. She stressed the total deal, saying that we should not focus our attention on any one house unless the faults we found were so serious that they would affect the total package. She finished by saying it was Mr. Waite who had said to look at it that way. Jimmy and Charles nodded their heads in agreement. I was a little puzzled but did not say anything.

We set off, arriving at the unoccupied house on time to see Mr. Husky opening the front door for us. Jimmy and Charles walked around the outside while Laura and I followed Mr. Husky inside. When Jimmy and Charles joined us we took a second tour of the house.

Back in the car, Laura made notes as to what each of us had seen as we followed Mr. Husky to the next house. We stayed in the car, using every second to further discuss the first house until Mr. Husky motioned for us that he had cleared our tour of the house with the tenants.

After visiting the fourth house Laura was thanking Mr. Husky for the tour when he stopped her, saying that we had not seen his treasure, the house he occupied. Laura declined to look at his house, saying that she was sure our client would not be interested in the big house Mr. Husky called home. She thanked him once more and we parted.

On the way home she explained that the fifth house was far too large and too old to interest Mr. Waite. We had another cup of coffee while Laura assured herself that we had covered every detail on her check list.

Charles went with Jimmy and me to give quotes to the homeowners who had left messages during the week.

“You could be doing this alone, you don’t need me any longer,” Jimmy said to me at the end of the day. Charles agreed with him. I said maybe I would try going out on my own next week. If I was unsure of something I could always bring Jimmy back for an expert opinion.

We stopped by the house that was being readied for painting. As we talked to Davey and his three helpers I couldn’t help thinking that it had only been a few weeks since Jimmy and I had finished painting the first house together. Gathered there was the whole company, seven of us.

“What’s gotten into him?” I asked Ken, referring to Eric who had just addressed me as Mr. Tucker.

“Davey had a talk with us this morning,” Ken confided, grinning. I wondered if Lacy had taught Eric how to play whack yet.

While I was getting ready for my date with Huley, Laura was talking to Nadine on the phone.

“Take me by the library on your way. I’ll ride home with Sylvia,” Laura said as I was putting my jacket on. She had a handful of books in her arms and was wearing the baseball pants and one of the baggy tops we had bought for her. I helped her with her jacket, saying I liked the way the pants looked on her.

“That was Nadine on the phone. She was overjoyed that Charles got a check yesterday. She says he really likes working for us.”

“I’m glad she’s appreciative,” I said, thinking of Jimmy remarking how glad his wife was that they had a steady income. Charles had received three days pay for Monday through Wednesday.

At the library door Laura slid across the seat for a goodbye kiss. “Have fun tonight but remember, on Monday night you’re mine.”

“I’m counting the days,” I said, wanting to hold her longer.

“We’re going to dinner at the Waite’s,” she said, pinching my cheek.

“Oh no we’re not. That’s the night we going to play restraint,” I protested.

“Mr. Waite has invited us to his home. He wants to hear what we found today. We’ll be home early and play restraint until you beg to stop. I’m even going to let you win.”

She was out of the car before I could object. We’ll see who let’s whom win, I thought.

Something was amiss. I felt it the moment Rosita Pettersen met me at the door. She came to me and when I extended my hand she pulled me to her for a light kiss. “Pick up Julita and get out of here,” she warned, searching my eyes for an understanding. She turned.

Ollie Petterson appeared at the end of the long hallway heading our way, turning his head to speak to Huley, Petri and Jerry walking behind him. As they got closer we could hear the rise and fall of Ollie’s voice. He was grilling his daughters wanting to know who was hosting the party, who was going to be there and what time we would be home.

Rosita squeezed my hand as if to warn me of something. She backed away as Huley took her place next to me, answering her father’s questions, patiently telling him where we would be, some of the people she expected to see there and promising that we would be home by one A.M.

As we stood in the entryway of the Pettersen home several things came to mind. This was my third visit to the home but as far as Ollie was concerned this was his oldest daughter’s first date with me. He was not aware that we had spoken on the telephone nearly every evening before he got home and we had been together at school nearly every day. He was also unaware that we had spent a night together in a motel room.

It was also evident that Petri and Jerry were involved somehow, perhaps tagging along with us at the insistence of her father?

Ollie’s eyes were fixed on his older daughter who was gripping my hand. He had not acknowledged my presence.

I squeezed her hand and looked at Huley. Her hair was drawn back in the familiar bun and she was wearing more makeup than usual. She was dressed casually, jeans and the leather jacket over a school sweatshirt. The band of large beads around her neck was colorful but looked out of place. Her near twin, Petri, was standing behind Ollie but I could see that she was dressed similarly, minus the beads.

“You’re acting like they’re fifteen and going to their first party,” Rosita admonished her husband.

Rosita’s voice had a calming effect on all of us, especially Ollie. He looked at me for the first time, reaching to pat my shoulder and give me one of his bring-it-back-if-it-conks-out-before-the-ninety- day-warranty-elapses smiles.

“You’ll see to it that my daughters don’t misbehave, won’t you Randy?”

His piercing eyes had caught mine and would not let go. I knew that there was more to what he had said than the conduct of the sisters while they were in my care. We had an understanding; I would be responsible for their actions.

Huley made one last plea, “I don’t see why we have to take them along. They’re going to be the only high school kids there.”

But she backed away when she saw the set of Ollie’s jaw. I saw it too.

Jerry and Petri sat in the back seat giggling. Petri seemed delighted that her father had foiled Huley’s plans for her and me to be alone together in a motel room. Jerry probably didn’t understand why they were giggling; he was just going along with Petri.

Huley sat close to me in the car, first placing her head on my shoulder, then deciding her hair would get rumpled she sat up and placed her hand inside my jacket.

I opened the glove box and handed Huley the black scarf she had lost in the parking lot the day she had run off from me. She took it without comment and covered her hair.

The party was being held in a small house, devoid of furniture. Our hosts stood outside the front door greeting their guests. Hugh and Carrie were a couple from school that I recognized but not by name until Huley introduced us. She apologized for having brought Petri and Jerry who she referred to as high school kids.

Squeezing inside, I soon realized that Petri and Jerry were not the only high-schoolers there, making me wonder if I was the oldest guest at the party. The front room was crowded with sweaty bodies, high temperature and two giant vibrating loudspeakers.

We danced our way through the room, Huley and I leading the way, Jerry and Petri behind us. The kitchen was just as crowded with guests easing their way to the punch bowl which had been set up on top of the stove. A burly kid I recognized from school was ladling peach colored liquid into plastic glasses. We all took a glass and moved on to a room off the kitchen.

We took a sip of the sweet tasting liquid. There was a noticeable fizz that resembled ginger ale but to me, the predominant ingredients were a mixture of various liquors.

As I took a second sip, trying to discern what was in the drink Huley touched my arm and said she was going for a refill. Petri handed Huley her empty glass and ask for more punch. Jerry motioned to me that he would follow Huley leaving Petri and me in the room with sixteen other people in the small room.

“Dance with me,” Petri shouted over the sound of the blaring music, coming close enough to spill a few drops of my drink on the floor. I took another sip of the sticky liquid and handed my glass to a girl who was standing nearby.

She danced close, wanting to talk but I couldn’t hear what she was saying. What ever it was must have seemed funny to her because she was laughing constantly, feeling small and limber in my arms.

I tried to caution her about the drink being spiked with all sorts of alcohol but she couldn’t hear me.

When Huley and Jerry returned we made our way to the forth room carrying our drinks, passing the bathroom on the way. Huley was saying something but I could not make it out. Jerry tugged on my sleeve, motioning that he was going to get another drink. I handed him my empty glass.

When Huley started to follow him I caught her and shook my head. Shouting into her ear I warned her that there was an odd mixture of spirits in the punch. She hugged me, placing her lips near my ear she said she could tell. I moved her around the crowded room as if were dancing, failing to see her hand her glass to Petri who followed Jerry to the kitchen and the punch bowl.

We had been at the party about an hour when Petri stumbled into my arms with a silly grin on her face and her eyes glazed over. I had to hold her up to keep her from falling.

Fable
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