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GingerChapter 2 free porn video
Coming out of the theater, I asked what she wanted to do now. "Can we go somewhere and talk? Some where some beautiful old girlfriend of yours doesn't show up for you to compare me to."
"Sure, I'll take you where I used to go parking. Are you okay with that?"
"I'm in your hands." Again Ginger mumbled something that I didn't catch and didn't repeat when I asked her to. I drove to a secluded part of the city. It wasn't a well known parking spot and I didn't expect the police.
When we got there, we reclined our seats and I asked, "What do you want to talk about?"
"Tell me about your sister? I've seen a picture of her. She was quite pretty. Your mother keeps away from the subject of her. I should know why if I'm going to be her companion."
"You're right. You should know what I know. I'm sure I don't know it all. I was too young to know what went on and much was kept from me. I don't know what happened between my father and mother. All seemed well when I was a kid. Then there was a lot of screaming between Mom and Dad. I could tell things between them were cold at the time. Mother wouldn't speak to my father for days on end.
"Then things warmed up for a little while and I thought our life was going to be like it used to be. Mom kissed Dad before he left when he said he had rented a camp and was going to spend some time there to find himself. Roberta left shortly afterwards, but then she didn't come home that night. Mom was going wild, suspecting the two were together. I was put in the care of a neighbor for a day. The next day all were home, but things were worse than ever."
I paused and Ginger asked, "Didn't you know what was going on?"
"I was ten years old. I knew from nothing. A little later, Dad asked me to come to him as he had something to say. He said that he was going to leave us. He acted real sad about this. He did say one thing and that was not to blame my sister for anything. Dad wouldn't say what I wasn't to blame her for just that it was a secret that she promised to keep. Then he said he was the one who was totally at fault and she was a good girl."
"Mother never knew he talked to me. Dad made me promise not to say we talked and I haven't to this day. He did say to trust my mother, for she was a good person and wasn't at blame for the trouble and it was him who was at fault. Two days later he was sick and Mom rushed him to the hospital. He never came home.
"Then things got really bad between mother and Roberta. Mom didn't want Roberta to go to Dad's funeral, but she did anyway. Mom was blaming her for something. I never said anything to mother, but thinking back now I should have stood up for my sister."
"You shouldn't blame yourself. You were only ten. I was older by three years when my father and mother were having problems and I didn't know what was going on either."
"I know, Ginger. Of course I can look back now and Mom just told me what was happening between Roberta and Dad. I think I knew, but didn't want to think that badly of either my father or my sister. Mom still blames sis, but regrets she was so harsh. I think she would forgive her if she found out she was still alive. When I get back from England and I have time to talk and be with mother, I'm going to tell her what Dad said to me just before he died."
"That would be wise. With so little time left, you don't have time to explain. Pete, have you had a single word from or about your sister in all these years?"
"No, and I don't think Mom has either. I know Mom never looked for her. She did report her missing because she was only seventeen when she disappeared."
"Pete, I thought I had it rough, but it has been so much worse for you. You have done so well for all of the trials you have been through. I know I can stop feeling sorry for myself and I can do the same."
"I know you can too. I'll help you in any way, too."
"You have already. I haven't known you very long, but I am going to miss you terribly."
"I'll miss you in very much the same way. The summer will go fast and I'll be home by September."
"But I won't be here. I'll have to back and live with my mother and go to school. I still have a year before I graduate. I will be seventeen by then, though."
"Oh, when is your birthday?"
"July, tenth."
"I'll have to remember when it is."
"That would be nice. I suppose we should go home. I don't want your mom to think you and I were doing something we shouldn't be doing. Especially after what has happened in your family." I raised my seat back from the position it was reclining. Ginger didn't and she acted as she wanted to say something more.
Finally she said, "Pete, I know I shouldn't ask, but I dared ask for this date, and you agreed to that. It has been a great date for me. You have treated me as an adult and showed me respect in front of the friends you met tonight. I have never been treated better by anyone. So what I am asking for is one kiss. I may never see you again because I will be in school when you return. I would like to have a kiss to remember you by."
"Ginger, I was hoping you wouldn't mind if I kissed you. I don't want you to think I am coming on to you, but I would like to kiss you." I got out of the car and while I was going around to the other side, Ginger raised her seat and stepped out waiting for me. She raised her arms and I came into them, hugging her to me. I smoothed her hair and taking her face in my hands I leaned down and slowly brought my lips to hers.
We kissed as lovers. She soon broke away, although I could tell she didn't want to. Hell, I didn't want to either. I hugged her hard one more time and then I let her go. I turned and walked back around and climbed into my seat as she did hers. I immediately started the engine and drove out of the secluded spot.
I glanced over at Ginger. She was sitting straight, staring right ahead. Her hands were folded demurely in her lap. Nothing was said for the thirty-five minutes to reach home. I parked in front of the garage and sat for a minute. One more time she said, "Pete, I'm going to miss you so much. Think of me sometimes when you're wandering around in the dusty bowels of some old monastery."
"I will Ginger. You can be sure of that." Ginger got out and ran into the house. Mom had been waiting inside for us.
"Peter, Ginger was crying when she flew up to her room. What did you do to her?"
"Just made her feel she was going to miss me a little while I'm gone. Mom, she really is a nice person. I'm going to miss her too." I turned and went up to my room, leaving my mother staring after me.
I spent the next day reviewing my orders for getting what my firm needed to make the presentation to the client. I had a laptop with applications installed on it where I could do sketches. I would use this to make my own presentation to the firm when I returned. It wasn't necessary for it to be perfect, but it would lessen the explanations I needed to make. I had a camera for the same purpose.
I had the travel tickets and I even had the reservation where I would be staying when I reached my destination. An account was set up for me to draw on. I would have to keep a record of my day-to-day expenditures, but I just had to load these into a file that the firm would retrieve.
I boarded my flight at noon and had to fly to O'Hare where I had to wait several hours before flying without changing planes to Heathrow. It took me more than twenty hours in all. When I arrived, I gave the taxi the address of the inn where I was to live.
"That'll be a bit from the wallet, Gov'nor."
"That's okay."
"Yank, are ye?"
"I am." I figured my ride would cost me less than if I had denied the question. When I reached the inn, I said, "Buy you a pint if you have the time."
"I am a bit thirsty, thanks." Before the pint was finished I had rented a Mini for the duration of my stay from the driver, whose name was Jim Hughes. This gave me wheels and I'd get a temporary license tomorrow. His taxi would of course transport me this evening. Tomorrow he would lead me through the regulations until I could get behind the wheel to drive myself.
I finally got upstairs to my room. One pint of English ale was going to be my limit from now on, I was sure of that. The next morning my taxi was at the door and he soon saw to it I had my license to drive. I told him why I was in England and Jim said the place I was to look at was several miles away and complicated to find. He looked at me as if I was crazy when I exclaimed how excited I was to find this place on my first day looking. I wondered why.
He offered to go with me after his turn in the taxi was finished. He wanted to make sure I could handle the car I had rented from him and we would go in that. I was introduced to his wife, Arlie, and two small children. He lived in a detached flat in a good neighborhood. She admonished, "Don't be bringing my Jim home with more than a pint in him." I promised I wouldn't.
We drove west toward the east coast where our client had said he had seen the monastery while in the plane. He had drawn a sketch of what he had seen during his flight from France. I showed it to the Jim, while he was giving me pointers about the car I had just rented. He recognized the building, but shook his head in puzzlement.
"What's wrong with it?"
"Your guy didn't see much of what it really is. I recognize it okay. That is only the gate that is still standing after the Germans got done bombing it in 1943. I can't know as they did this intentionally. It was suspected that flak over London didn't let a German plane come in on a run and drop their bombs. Frustrated, the bombardier used this for target practice on the way home before crossing the channel.
"What this person must have seen is the front entrance. It is massive even now and must have been a beautiful building when it was in use. It hasn't been used as a monastery for centuries ... five of them to be exact. I believe it was chartered in 1100 something and dissolved in 1547. I'm a bit of a history buff and have tramped around it several times. I still get pissed at the bloody bastards who bombed it."
I was having some trouble driving on the left side of the motorways and roads. I gave Jim a couple of scares, but he never said anything. Maybe I scared myself more than I did him, for I was nervous. Also the Mini was a much smaller vehicle than I was used to and I felt my butt was awful close to the road. It was a speedy little beast and I was beginning to enjoy the drive.
Jim was great at directing me. Just saying, "Next right, gov'nor," or he would spit out, "roundabout coming up, take the third exit."
We approached the monastery remains on a slant. This was a massive pile of stone three or more stories high. The stones themselves were small and had been fitted closely together. From the distance it looked to be a pair of square stone towers with an arch linking the two. The doors and windows were missing. Weather had worn away much of the mortar between the stones if any had been used at all. I wondered why it didn't fall down.
I pulled to a stop a good ways away and took pictures. "Now, tell me about it," I asked.
"Okay. You can see some of the stairs where the front of the building has crumbled. This gate was probably modeled after the keep that some of the castles used for safety. You can see a few of the small rooms, cubbies actually, where the monks lived and prayed. The Prior may have been quartered here or maybe just novices. No way to tell.
"When we walk around back you will be able to see how massive the whole structure was originally. What you see here is constructed of stone. The great hall behind this had stone walls, but the rest was built with massive oak timbers. These of course burned when it was bombed. Your client viewing this from the airplane had to have seen the I from several miles away. He would have been terribly disappointed if he had been closer."
"That's okay. I have a job out of it anyway." I made motion to start the Mini. As we passed by the entrance you could see right through the arch and the countryside beyond. "Shit, I'll never know what it looked like originally."
Jim sat next to me and he was grinning. Then he said, "How about the original builder's plans? Would they be of any help to you? Also there are some sketches of the building during construction."
I stared at him. "Pucker up, Jim you're going to get kissed." Jim climbed out of the Mini as fast as he could.
"Oh no, I'm not."
"Not by me, you fool. I mean by Arlie when I take you all out to dinner tonight."
"Okay then, you had me worried for a minute. Come on, I'll direct you to where this particular archive for the monastery is kept and you can see what I'm talking about."
I was introduced as a student to the librarian by Jim. Jim occupied himself in another part of the library. I perused the plans of the building that were nearly a thousand years old. I took pictures of the sketches with my camera. I knew the written notes wouldn't come out so I made notation of what I could read. Much of this was in Latin and what was written in English was old English and hard for me to decipher.
Jim was getting antsy by mid-afternoon so I closed up my briefcase, telling the curator I would return at some other time.
I took Jim, Arlie and the two kids out to dinner as promised. I watched the family and finally remarked the kids were very well behaved. "We were brought up that way and if you start young enough, there is little problem." I would see if it worked when I had a wife of my own and we had children.
Then I thought about my own family and how dysfunctional it was or had been in the past. I didn't remember, but when I was very young, me, Mom, Dad and Roberta, were much like this family. Somewhere, something went wrong with ours. I could wish I knew what it was for I would avoid it like the plague.
I spent the week at the same library using my CAD app on my laptop to draw what the Monastery looked like centuries ago. I was sending all of my efforts back to the home office. They could see what I was doing every day as I uploaded the day's files each night. I tracked down a couple of photos taken in the late 30's, but they were grainy.
I was directed by my firm to take time off on the weekends to see sights and enjoy myself. I availed myself of this, but always seemed to end up looking at some castle or monastery somewhere. Jim was my guide in this and knew a lot about the history or knew where to find more details of each building.
I began looking for a castle or monastery that was still inhabited that I could inspect. I found one castle that was open for visits and spent three days there. Much of this time I gravitated to the cellars. There were tubs where beer was brewed in days past. The wine racks were still in place. I used my camera extensively. And I was continually sketching what I observed. At night before uploading what I had seen, I used my CAD app to transfer some of this to files.
Once a week I connected with Jim and Arlie Hughes for dinner and I occasionally bought Jim a pint at the pub. I was keeping track of Ginger and Mom, by email. Any little thing unusual in their lives was sent to me in detail. I did the same, giving them insight into what my days were like. I remembered when Ginger's birthday was. Mom had said she was giving Ginger a party, inviting some of her personal friends. Ginger hadn't made any yet.
"Hi, Ginger, Happy Birthday." A loud squeal of happiness met my ear.
"Pete, my God, is this really you? I can't believe it. Oh, I want to thank you for the big birthday spray of flowers that arrived just an hour ago. This is about the best day of my life."
"It is good to hear your voice. I just wanted you to know I was thinking of you. I have some news. I may be seeing you before the end of summer. My boss thinks I have enough information so we will be meeting with our client in another three weeks. I'm to be at the presentation when we meet. I will have a hand in this and I'm excited.
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