EchoChapter 11 free porn video

When you walk in the front door, more than half the floor space was open to the twenty-foot ceiling. To the left of the main door is a small kitchenette. It had a two-burner stovetop, a small oven and a microwave. There was a coffee pot, of course and a toaster on the counter, but that was it. A full-sized fridge was the divider between the kitchen and dining area.

The table was large enough for four people to sit and Grandma showed me that there were two leaves, along with four more chairs, in a closet under the stairs. The table could be moved out to the open area for dinner parties.

The living room area was a couch and loveseat facing a large, floor model television with record player and cassette deck built in. There were bookshelves to either side for balance.

Almost directly across from the front door were two more doors. The one on the rear wall that had small window through which the back yard was visible. The one on the right wall has a much larger window and, though the view was dark, it clearly opened into the garage area. Under the staircase there was a storage area and yet another door, open at the moment, that led to a small 3/4 bath.

Up the stairs was the sleeping area, a larger bathroom took a slice off the room but was totally worth it for the huge shower and bigger tub. The sleeping area was nice and open even with a new, king-sized bed and matching end tables. Two dressers, one with a mirror were on the other wall and a pair of recliners rested along the railing that allowed you to look down into the lower portion of the house.

On the far wall when you came up, there was a huge half-circle window that dominated the whole wall and let in a ton of light. I saw that Grandma had set up dark drapes to keep the light out when I wanted it, but it really made the place look like a million bucks!

Back downstairs, the rear door at the foot of the stairs exited into the garage while the second door, on the back wall, exited to the rear of the property. This had been the office area of the fire department and was now a pretty nicely equipped workshop. I could see Dad’s hand here as the tools were all hung up on pegboard, some nice rolling tool chests and even a heavy-duty workbench.

The garage itself was eighteen feet wide and forty feet in length, with a twenty-foot ceiling. The existing hoist had been completely reconditioned and was working now, thanks to Dad as well. There was even an oil pit. I could remove the steel grates, drive my car over the centerline of the garage, and have complete access to the undercarriage.

In one corner at the rear of the garage I had installed weights, a couple of benches, a pull-up and dip bar as well as a heavy bag and a speed bag. I was still taking bids on a pool for the back, the property was plenty big enough for a nice sized one, but other than that, it was a perfect bachelor pad!

“You know you used up all your Christmas gifts early, right?” Dad asked as I stood there and gaped. I just nodded and smiled. That was perfectly okay with me!

In November, I advised Grandpa to close out his positions on Coleco and Home Depot. Coleco netted us a little over $700,000 each and Home Depot, $1,700,000. At that point, I was Grandpa’s rainmaker and he started running his investment decisions through me.

I flipped both of us over into Harley Davidson. I had been a Harley fan since I was fourteen the first time around and knew that the government would pass a bill raising tariffs on imported motorcycles in a bid to help Harley, after its management buyout from AMF, all to help them keep their heads above water.

Just before Christmas, I sold us out of Pulte for a $720,000 payday and Chrysler for $1,250,000 each. I rolled those into Harley as well. Between Grandpa and me, I purchased a total of $8.7 million in HD stock, and put in orders to sell on the day after April Fool’s day. It wouldn’t double our money, but close. I sold it for net profit of $16,863,000 or $8.4 for each of us.

The tariff announcement came out 4/1/83 and I always thought that was appropriate somehow. American protectionism that actually hurt the market, though it did give Harley some time to regroup.

Don’t get me wrong, I had been a Harley fan forever, but that and other acts did little to lighten tensions overseas.

Meanwhile, I got myself a Christmas gift, a used 1982 Sportster I bought from another college student who needed the money for his now-pregnant girlfriend. At $1200 with only a few hundred miles on it, the price was a steal. I immediately took it down to Coast Cycles and had them hard-tail it for me, with an 8 over springer front end and a king-queen seat. Painted the same color as my Cuda, I managed to keep it from Dad and my Grandparents for a whole week after I got it back from being customized.

Surprisingly, Grandma and Grandpa took it best. Grandpa had been a bit of a motorcycle fan in his heyday, and Grandma had some fond memories of riding around behind him. Dad, on the other hand, was on the warpath and threatened to make me move home. Grandpa reasoned with him though, so we settled on me not actually riding it on the streets before my next birthday. I chafed at the restrictions, but I agreed. It was only a couple of months away, so I would wait.

I started wondering if it would be a good idea to go for emancipation. Not because of the fight with Dad over the bike, but because I couldn’t even get insurance on the bike unless he signed off. I was worth about ten million dollars as a fifteen year old and I couldn’t even legally register a $1,200 motorcycle on my own.

I discussed it with Grandpa, laying out the pros and cons, telling him about my frustrations with having to have legal adults backstop my decisions. He took it well, admitting that he sometimes had a hard time remembering I was only fifteen, but he still hated the idea of me growing up so fast.

It took some time, and plenty of assurances that I wanted nothing more that some freedom to make my own legal decisions, before he started to come around. I really had no plans to ditch my family, I was happier here and now than just about any time during my past life.

Now we just had to get Dad on board.

Dad shocked all of us. He only wanted my promise that I would still be here. Still be part of the family. The thought of me taking off had him in tears. Hell, it had me in tears.

Turning sixteen must have been a karmic change for me. That is the only way I can describe it. School ended a month later and my long dry spell ended as well!

I had been living in my new place for all of my sophomore year, and the only visitors I had over, other than family, had been Scott, Marjorie, Danica and her new boyfriend Jamal, an oceanography student. Anna Marie Bautista, now Gutierrez and her new husband had come over to check out the final look on the project house. Jorge had been the official architect on the plans we submitted, the big window had only been allowed because he had found earlier blueprints that had shown it was part of the original building that had been changed at one time. I still talked with Anna every now and then, on a professional basis dealing with offers that were starting to come in on the SandPiper property, but we weren’t ever going to be besties.

The first week of summer, however, there was a knock at the door and, when I opened it, dressed only in a pair of loose gym shorts, I found a knockout brunette wearing a bikini top and a pair of shorts much like mine.

“Hi!” she said with a big smile. “I’m Susan, and mom said I should come and introduce myself.”

I must have looked confused because she tilted her head, staring at me pensively.

“My mom is Amada Williams, lives at that house over there?” she said, turning to point to a house that was across the street and about three lots down.

“Sorry, Susan, I am sure I looked confused, but it is very nice to meet you. I am afraid though that I haven’t met your mother.” I said, shrugging. “Would you like to come in? Let me just get a shirt on. My name is Wayne, by the way.”

“Oh, no need to get dressed for me!” she said brightly, giving me a once over.

She came in and stood there looking at the house, obviously surprised by the layout. Meanwhile, I ran up and put on a t-shirt and grabbed some boat shoes while I was there.

“Oh my god, is that really a fireman’s pole? Can I use it?” She asked excitedly, jumping in place which did wonderful things to her bikini top.

“Sure, come on up.”

She dashed up the stairs, passing me and allowing me a look at her from the rear. I think I decided, at that moment, that I really, really wanted to get to know her.

The fireman’s pole had been refinished and sealed against corrosion, and I had installed a thick, foam and rubber pad at the bottom around the pole so that if you actually slid down, you would have a cushioned landing.

Susan paused at the top of the stairs to give my bedroom the once over, then walked to the corner where the pole was installed, looking down through the circular opening in the floor. The safety rail around it was painted bright yellow with a single opening and she stepped through, giggled as she grabbed the pole and slid down, bouncing to a stop at the bottom.

“That is so awesome! I have wanted to do that since I was a little girl.” she said, her smile huge. She had the cutest dimples.

“Can I offer you something to drink? Coffee? Juice? Soda? I would offer you a beer, but it is kind of early.”

Today was the first official day of summer for me, classes would start again in a week, and I had slept in, skipping my morning workout. With the pool still not ready, an unexpected delay with the wrong sealer being ordered, I wasn’t in the mood to go on campus anyway.

“Orange Juice sounds good.” she said, wandering over to lean against the back of the couch. “Mom said that this used to be a fire station a long time ago, but when she bought the house across the street, some company that painted busses was here. I know she is curious about the inside of the place. I bet if you invited her over, she’d be thrilled.”

I handed Susan a glass of orange juice and started a pot of coffee for myself.

“Susan, I don’t want to sound rude or anything, I am always happy to have beautiful women knock on my door, but why would your mother tell you that you should come and meet me? I haven’t really met any of my neighbors, too busy with school.”

“Oh! Duh! Sorry, Wayne! I feel like such a ditz. Your car. Mom said you had the bitchinest 70 Cuda she had ever seen. I’m kind of a tomboy, I guess. I like cars, and I have a 69 Cuda in the garage over there that I want to restore. It was my Dad’s baby. He died when I was nine, and my mom has kept it all this time, but never wanted to drive it. It needs a lot of work now.”

“Oh! Well, that’s fantastic! While I do regular maintenance stuff on my car, for anything more than an oil change, I take it to my Dad. He owns six regular garages where he used to do a bunch of custom work, but he just opened a new place this year that just focuses on hotrods and restorations. He’s is a mechanical genius! In fact, he built my car.” I said happily, then leaned forward and, in a stage whisper, added, “It’s what he calls a Resto-Mod. It is a 70 Cuda but came with a wimpy six cylinder and a hard top. He converted it, put in a built Hemi and supercharger, upgraded the suspension and a few other goodies. It looks perfectly stock, if rare, but real collectors would turn up their nose.”

“Can I see it?” she asked wistfully.

I took her through the back door and she stopped dead when she saw the workshop and the rest of the garage setup.

“I am so jealous! This place is ... its ... it is the coolest house I have ever seen!” she gushed, running a hand along my work bench. She walked over to the Cuda, the top was down, and looked inside.

I walked over and popped the hood, then excused myself to get my coffee. When I returned, she was bent way over, her head alongside the block looking at the headers and her cute little butt sticking way up in the air.

I took a sip and enjoyed the view for a moment before making noise to let her know I was back.

She popped up like a gopher from its hole, her face red. “I was just...” but I waved her off with a smile.

“Keys are in it if you want to start it up.”

She grinned again and ran to the driver’s door, sliding into the seat with a purr. She waggled the gearshift to make sure it was in neutral and turned the key.

I watched, fascinated as she sat there for a minute, eyes closed, just listening to the motor. A couple of blips of the gas and the whine of the supercharger was more evident. I could actually see the goose bumps on her arm from where I was standing.

When she shut down the car and climbed, regretfully I think, out again, I noticed her nipples were actually denting the front of her shirt. I thought I was in love!

She was quiet, wandering over to the bike and running her hand along the seat to the sissy bar.

“Mom said she was pretty sure that you are going to UCSB?” she asked, her hand still on the sissy bar of the bike.

“Yes Ma’am. I will be a senior this fall. I have been taking summer classes the last two summers, and this summer too. With the extra credits I earned in High School, I will be able to graduate in December, but I think I am going to stick around and graduate at the end of the next school year. There are a couple of courses I want to take. You in school?”

“Berkeley. I’m just a sophomore next year though. We’re from Colorado but I got a scholarship and Mom sold the house to move out here. It was just too expensive in San Francisco, but she has a cousin down here and found the house.” she waved her hand towards the front of the garage. “It’s close enough that I can come home for long weekends and holidays.”

“If you aren’t in a hurry, I was going to make some breakfast. You are more than welcome to join me or keep me company if you have already eaten.” I said, scrambling for an excuse to keep her around longer.

“I’d like that, but let me go tell Mom, okay? Five minutes, promise!” she said with a smile.

“You want to call?”

She shook her head. “No, she’ll want details.” she said, blushing a bit. “I would feel weird telling her about...” she waved her hand “all of this with you standing there.” she admitted.

“Invite her for breakfast too. I rarely ever get visitors and I would be happy to cook breakfast for both of you.”

Amanda Williams knocked on the door just a couple of minutes later and it was yet another surprise. She grinned brightly at me and greeted me. “Mr. Moore, how nice to see you again!”

“Mrs. Williams, if I had known you lived practically across the street, I would have invited you over a long time ago!” I said with a wink, inviting her inside.

“Mom, you know him?” Susan asked, a suspicious look in her eye.

“I honestly didn’t, baby, or didn’t think I did. I mean, he is a client where I work at the realty company! His broker is Anna Gutierrez, you’ve met her.” Amanda explained, laughing. “When he opened the door, I was just as surprised as he was!”

“I met your mother in passing a couple of months ago when she started working there. I have only been to the office three times, so it is not like we had a lot of time to get to know one another. Besides, there is no way I would ever have guessed she had a daughter your age, but I can definitely see where you get your beauty.” I told Susan, crossing my heart.

I saw them exchange looks, and smiles.

“Well, come in, have a seat. Can I get you some coffee? Juice? I even have tea, if you prefer, Mrs. Williams.”

“Amanda. Please, we’re neighbors and I am not at work. And coffee would be lovely.”

“Only if you call me Wayne!” I said, pouring her a mug of coffee. I added a container of cream and a sugar bowl to a small serving tray (thanks Grandma!) and brought them over to the table.

“So, I had planned on Omelets and hashed browns for breakfast, but I also have some fresh fruit, cottage cheese and I think I have the fixins for pancakes.”

“Wayne, I would be happy to cook if you want to show Mom around. I know she’s dying to see what you have done with the place.” Susan said, sticking her tongue out at her mother.

I laughed when Amanda made the same face, and said, “She’s a pretty good cook, Wayne, and she’s right, I watched the work crews when they were here and I really was curious about what was happening over here.

I walked her around the house, asking her to excuse the unmade bed upstairs since I had just woken up and hadn’t been expecting company. She loved the huge window and surprised me by taking a trip down the fireman’s pole. She sounded astonishingly like her daughter and, when I followed her down, she was standing there chatting with Susan about how much fun it had been.

While I showed her the garage, she told me that she knew I was a customer at the real estate firm, but since she was the receptionist, she didn’t know what I was buying or selling, just that the big boss was impressed by me. She also had never seen what kind of car I drove, so ended up being clueless about who owned the place.

She loved the look of the pool area, and commiserated with me about the delays, especially now that summer was here.

Back inside, she took a seat at the table and I joined her, enjoying the sight of Susan happily bopping around the kitchen making breakfast. Susan had turned on the stereo while we were outside, keeping the volume low, and was listening to the cassette I had in the player at the time, the Eagles Hotel California.

Over breakfast, I learned more about the pair. Amanda had been married to an Air Force pilot whose aircraft suffered an engine failure over the ocean. They had recovered him, but too late. She had been raising Susan alone since then.

Her parents were old-time money from back East, so her trust fund was sufficient to let her live a life of leisure, but she said she would go stir-crazy without doing something and had taken a job as a receptionist just to kill time while Susan was up a Berkeley.

“Well, since my neighbors turned out to be so nice, setting aside that you are both beautiful, I feel a bit guilty here. I have a few secrets and if, as I hope, we all become good friends, I should really come clean.”

I told them the basics, but that was enough to shock them. That I was just sixteen, a senior at UCSB and that I had started with a thousand dollars two years ago but was to parley that into enough to live comfortably.

“I have a hard time believing that!” Amanda said, shocked. She blushed and waved her hand. “Not that I think you are being untruthful, please understand. But you are sixteen and have already earned enough to...” She paused, turning to her daughter. “Mr. Bautista was all a flutter about his daughter bringing in a millionaire and then that client brought in a group of millionaires and created an investment partnership.”

She turned back to me. “Wayne, what about your parents? They are okay with all of this? This is simply amazing!”

I mulled over what I wanted to share, not wanting to get into my personal issues with family.

“Amanda ... It’s a long, sordid story, but my mother decided she wanted nothing to do with me until there was money involved. My father, on the other hand, is a fantastic guy. He owns several businesses and a car restoration shop in town. My grandfather is a retired judge, and both of them have been nothing but 100% supportive of me. They let me be me, I guess is the best way to put it. I graduated high school at fourteen, I will have a college degree at seventeen, and it is all possible because of the faith they had in me.”

“Well, I am impressed. I never would have guessed your age. You carry yourself so confidently and you look...” she paused, blushing a bit. “You look older too.”

I saw Susan nodding and smiling out of the corner of my eye and turned to look her way.

“I hope this didn’t scare you away!” I said with a grin. “If the offer is still open, I would love to see your car. I am taking classes this summer, but just three days a week and I could even convince my Dad to kick in a bay at one of his shops, and expert advice, if that is something that interests you.”

“So, you are just interested in me for my car?” she said with a fake pout.

“Well...” I paused, grinning at Amanda who had a smirk on her face and a single raised eyebrow, “I couldn’t honestly say that, but it is a convenient excuse to spend more time with you.” I finished, shrugging.

“And if I already have a ... friend?” Susan asked, her tone light and teasing.

I shrugged and winked at Amanda, but said to Susan, “Then I will only be interested in you for your car and will be asking your beautiful mother out to lunch instead.”

That earned me a laugh from Amanda, a scowl from Susan, and some hope that this summer would be interesting.

The Williams ladies left, after a promise from me to come to their house the next day for lunch and a look at Susan’s Cuda, and I had itchy feet. I wanted to get out and enjoy the free time so I fired up my bike and took a ride.

I pointed the bike north; Pismo Beach was only an hour and a half north and a nice ride too. During the ride, my mind turned to the events of the last two years. I was living a fucking fairy tale! Sure, not everything was feasts and magic, but this life so far was better than anything I had experienced the first time around.

There were still nights I woke up sweating, clutching my sheets and my mind racing. The fear that this was all a dream was all too real to me. There were regrets as well. Events and people from my first life that I would probably never meet. I could only hope that if there were people I had interacted with that needed that contact, perhaps someone else would fill that gap.

Rolling in to Pismo, I slowed when I spotted a restaurant parking lot full of bikes! Some kind of event or gathering was happening and the eye candy was too tempting. My stomach was growling anyway, so this looked like a great place to stop.

I pulled into the parking lot and found space at the end of a line of two dozen Harleys. I backed the bike in, making sure I was far enough away from the next bike in line not to piss anyone off, and shut her down.

EVO motors hadn’t come out yet, though they were on the way, so it was shovels as far as the eye could see. There were one or two pans and even a knuckle head. It shouldn’t have been a surprise to me, I was riding an Iron Head after all, but still, in my day it was the EVO and the Twin Cam that ruled the roads.

I walked along the line, spotting two more Sportsters. One was hard tailed and setup not too much different than my own, the other was almost stock, except for a solo seat. It was strange, standing there amidst the bikes. I had been riding for more than 40 years, despite my current age, and I felt kind of naked at the moment. I had gotten my first tattoo at seventeen and, at my death, I had full sleeves, tattoos from shoulder to wrist. I had ink on my chest and back as well, but I stood here right now with virgin skin. It was just a weird feeling.

Turning for the restaurant door, I felt dozens of eyes on me. There were a dozen outside tables and they were all full. The majority of the men sitting here eating were patched, wearing Banditos 3-piece patches on their vests. There were another group, mostly at tables by themselves, but a few sitting in with the Banditos. Their colors identified them as Los Lobos, a Banditos affiliate back in the day.

I was a little surprised to see the clubs here, So Cal was historically Hells Angel territory and I seriously considered just leaving. I wasn’t even wearing a vest though, much less colors, and I was hungry as hell, so I headed inside.

There were another thirty or forty men inside, along with a few women who were obviously riding with them, and I wasn’t surprised to be completely ignored as I threaded through the crowd to the counter. I wanted to get something to go, and I would eat outside by my bike.

I waited patiently, giving my order for a burger, fries and a coke to the lady at the counter, then moved down to the pickup area and just watched people in the restaurant interacting.

Everything seemed copacetic, no unusual tension so I guess they were not out looking for trouble. There were very few civilians in the place though, the biker crowd either having run them off or maybe encouraging people to not stop, to move on to another establishment.

Food in hand, I exited the building and sat on my bike, balancing the soda on my tank as I dug fries out of the bag to eat. I had just stuffed a half-dozen in my mouth when I saw three of the Banditos members heading my way. Swallowing quickly, I grabbed my soda to wash them down before they got close.

“Nice bike. You local?” The three guys who approached me were all in their mid to late twenties. All were dressed in a uniform of sorts. Jeans, either no shirt or sleeveless t-shirts, denim vests with patches showing their allegiance to the club, their function within the club for one of them, and a couple of memorial patches for club members who had died.

The one speaking to me had a patch that said ‘Striker’ on his chest and was a couple of years older than the other two.

“Thanks! Just got it finished a couple of weeks ago and I am having fun with it.” I said jovially. “I am just passing through, not a local guy, but I saw the bikes and was hungry so I thought I would stop and check them out.”

“Lot of guys call those chick bikes.” He said with a grin, his thumbs in his pockets and his stance relaxed, so I hoped he was just pulling my chain.

I shrugged and smiled in response. “I’ve heard that, but never really understood it. It has plenty of power for me, but I am just a kid so...” I shrugged, taking another sip of my soda. The last thing I wanted to do was mix it up. The Banditos had quite a rep back in the day, vying for supremacy and territory in California.

“Ever think about joining a club?”

“No sir. Too busy in school.” I said respectfully.

The guy nodded. “Makes sense. If you are going to be around this evening, we are having a bit of a party down on the beach. You should stop by.”

“Thanks! If I am still here, that sounds like fun.” I was doing my best to seem amiable, but there was no way in hell I was going to a beach party. Civilians are better off, in most cases, staying clear of the club scene. Without a rabbi, a protector in the club, it could turn ugly really fast. One misplaced word, one action that a member found objectionable and things could go bad really, really quickly.

I saw dozens of men exiting the restaurant and heading for their bikes. The three guys talking to me just nodded and started getting ready to leave. It turned out that the three bikes closest to me were theirs, so them walking my way was as much out of necessity as it was anything else. Something I was glad to learn.

I sat there and ate my burger as the place slowly emptied, the men kicking bikes to life and filling the air with the rumble of the big V-Twin engines. Once it looked like the majority of them were ready, a pair pulled out and stopped at the entrance to the parking lot as the rest started moving, getting lined up.

The sound of that many bikes rumbling, then growling loudly as they gave the engines gas, was as exciting today as it had always been, and I had a big smile on my face as they pulled out, turned North and took off.

By the time I had finished eating, the parking lot was mostly empty. Only a couple of cars, probably belonging to the staff, were still in the lot towards the rear. I policed up my garbage and tossed it in a can near the front doors, then headed back to my own bike. I was surprised to see two girls, young women, standing next to my bike.

“What’s wrong mister, your bike wouldn’t start? All your friends left.” One of them asked.

“Not with them, and I just finished eating. It will start just fine.” I told them with a smile as I leaned over the tank and slipped the key into the lock. The two girls were dressed for the beach, with bikini tops and short shorts over their bathing suit bottoms. Both were in good shape and pretty enough, but they looked nervous.

“Nice to know. They might have been coming back for you.” I heard a male voice say.

I turned my head and saw two men walking up, belligerent looks on their faces. They were dressed much like the Banditos and their hangers-on had been, but the distinctive colors of their patches told me that I didn’t want to be here.

“Good afternoon.” I said calmly, but inside, my heart was pounding.

“It is not a good day for an independent to be in Pismo. Especially not a good day for you to be hanging out with those guys.” one of the two growled.

“I was out riding and was hungry. When I saw all the bikes, I figured I could eat here and check them out.” I explained, holding my hands out to my side.

“He looks pretty young, Joe. Hey kid, how old are you?” The second of the two, silent until now, looked younger than the first by a decade, but just as tough.