A Well Lived Life Book 4 BethanyChapter 45 Dumb Boy Part II
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A Well-Lived Life - Book 4 - BethanyChapter 44: Dumb Boy, Part I free porn video
January 1981, Milford, Ohio
On Sunday evening, after an uneventful but normal day, I called Jennifer. I knew I had to tell her about Kara.
“Jennifer, do you remember me mentioning Kara?”
“Sure. She’s the one from the ‘Holy Rollers’ table you were angling to deflower.”
“That’s the one. I did that, but it ended far differently than I expected,” I said, my voice dropping in resignation.
“How bad is this?” she replied with concern.
“Oh, not that way! That is, if you mean am I messed up, out of control or have a hysterical girl who is freaked out about what happened.”
“Then what happened?”
“I fell in love with her. We’re dating.”
“Dating? As in boyfriend and girlfriend? Exclusively?” Jennifer said, sounding a bit worried.
“Yes. I’m not having sex with anyone else and I don’t want to.”
“Wow! Maybe Bethany was right about you. I’m impressed. What about Stephanie?”
“That’s still going to happen. Nothing is going to stop that.”
“And Kara is OK with that?” Jennifer asked.
“She doesn’t know, and I’m not going to tell her.”
Jennifer laughed.
“What’s so funny?”
“Kara’s no threat. I had started to get worried about nothing. If you can’t tell her about Stephanie, there’s no future for the two of you. Enjoy the sex, if she’s any good,” Jennifer giggled.
“She’s a quick learner, and the sex is great. She might be a bit naïve, but she’s enthusiastic,” I answered, relieved that she was taking it well. “I seem to remember a young girl who was exactly like that a few years ago?”
“True! And you’re a pretty good teacher. I just can’t imagine a goody two-shoes like her blowing you or letting you fuck her ass.”
“Jennifer, what style of sex do I like the most?”
“In the past, just regular missionary sex, slow and sweet. But then you met Katt!”
“Katt and I are done. She’s with Mikael. And I’m happy with just simple lovemaking. Kara does like to be licked, and you know I love doing that!”
“So now you’re back to conventional sex? What the hell happened to you?”
“I fell in love. And I’m growing up. I had a spat with my mom and didn’t try to convince her of anything or try to argue her into a position. I simply refused to let her try to ruin my life again.”
“And what does Bethany say?”
“She’s supportive. We’re just friends at this point, but I’m taking her to Prom because Kara isn’t allowed to go to dances.”
Jennifer paused a moment. “I think this is a good development.”
We talked for a few more minutes about school and then said our goodbyes.
On Monday I stayed late to try out for the role of the father in I Never Saw Another Butterfly. I read my lines from the script and Miss Alvis told me that I had the part right then and there. I was a bit surprised but agreed to take the part. I took a copy of the script with me to start memorizing. I saw on the board that I would be playing opposite Bonnie Wonder, a cute Senior, who was playing the mother.
On Tuesday, Ronald Reagan was sworn in as President and unsurprisingly, the Iranian government decided to release the hostages that had been held for 444 days. I had been in Sweden when the embassy had been overrun and I remembered how Anders had been afraid that it was part of a lead up to a world war. The Soviets were still in Afghanistan, but I fully expected President Reagan to do something about that.
On Wednesday, Josh told me that he’d been accepted into the YFU program and would be going to Sweden next year. I let him know that it was entirely possible I could see him there because I was heading there on vacation in June of ‘82. I also promised to start teaching him some Swedish. After school, Beth and I made a visit to a vet in Springdale and demonstrated our software for his office. He was concerned about the cost of the computer and told us that he’d think about it. I encouraged him to talk to Doctor Grossi.
On Thursday, when I got to chemistry class, Kara kissed me on the cheek and then turned bright red.
“Steve,” she whispered, “I got my period this morning. Do you still want to go out?”
“Of course. I like just being with you. We could still make out, if you want!”
She smiled.
That evening we went to dinner and spent an hour in the apartment cuddling, doing just a bit of kissing.
“Thanks for being so understanding.”
“I know how your body works, and I know about periods. It’s fine. Don’t be embarrassed about it. You’ll be done when I come back from my symposium and we can make love.”
She kissed me deeply, and we headed to her house to drop her off before curfew.
January 1981, Cincinnati, Ohio
On Friday, I left school at noon to head to Cincinnati. I gave Ralph a ride, but he would come back to Milford with Mr. Yockey on Sunday because I was going straight to Don Joseph’s house. I followed Route 50 into the city and followed the directions to the hotel. I reluctantly turned the car over to the valet, and Ralph and I went inside. We found the registration desk for the symposium and I was surprised to see that I had a single room. I got my key and went to find my room.
The room was small, with just a full-size bed, a desk, a table with two chairs and a television, and the bathroom had a stall shower. The view out the window was only that of other fairly ugly buildings. I unpacked my weekender bag and went back down to the main meeting room. I found Mr. Yockey and Brent, and a moment later, Ralph walked in as well. We still had about 15 minutes before the introductory session and we weren’t ready to sit, so we stood in the back of the room.
I went to get a Coke from the refreshment table when I felt a hand on my arm and heard a familiar voice softly say my name. I turned to make sure.
“Hi, Becky,” I said with a note of annoyance.
“How are you, Steve?”
“I’m doing OK. How are you?”
“I’m OK,” She replied.
I said nothing and simply let the silence hang because I really had nothing to say to her.
“I’m sorry,” she said. “I made a big mistake. I’ve made lots of mistakes with you.”
“It’s all water under the bridge. There really isn’t anything left to say.”
“I know,” Becky sighed. “I didn’t expect to see you here.”
“I certainly didn’t expect to see you, either, but here we are.”
The lights in the room flashed a couple of times, indicating that the first session was about to start. I was annoyed but not surprised when Becky followed me and sat down next to me at one of the long tables. I contemplated getting up and moving, but decided that would just be too rude.
A man dressed in a suit stepped to the microphone and called the room to order. Everyone settled down quickly, and he welcomed us to the symposium and then described how it would work. There would be four presentations, one each from the government and the opposition leaders from Honduras and El Salvador, with breaks in between. Once they had finished, we would have a dinner where the US Ambassador to El Salvador would speak. After dinner, there would be a mixer with music and dancing. I looked around the room and saw that the ratio of guys to girls was only slightly off, about 60-40.
Becky leaned over and whispered, “Would you dance with me tonight, Steve?”
“That’s not a good idea. No,” I whispered back.
“Please! It’s just a dance. Just think about it.”
I sighed and listened to the introduction of the first speaker. Becky hadn’t changed. Actually, that wasn’t quite true, she had filled out a bit since she was fourteen and lost all of her baby fat. Her breasts had grown out as well — no longer just small bumps, they were firm and conical. Her hips had widened a bit as well, and I had to admit she had become a beautiful young woman. My mind flashed back to our lovemaking and caused an involuntary and undesired reaction. I shifted in my seat and tried to adjust myself for comfort without being noticed. Becky’s smirk, which I saw in my peripheral vision, told me I had failed.
At the first break, when I went to get a Coke from the refreshment table, Becky followed me.
“I see you still like me!” she giggled.
“We’ve had this discussion several times!” I said, quite exasperated.
She nodded and leaned forward to whisper, “But I still make you hard,” as she gently touched my arm.
“Becky!” I whispered sternly and went back to my chair.
The problem was, she was right. Becky still made me hard. Our lovemaking had been intense, though not as frequent as with other girls I’d had relationships with, and it had been very enjoyable. On the other hand, I remembered all the bad things that had happened between us, especially the unintended — by me — pregnancy and the resulting abortion.
At the next break, once again Becky walked with me to the table.
“You know we never really did talk things through,” she said. “It’s my fault, I know, because of what I did, both in deceiving you and in letting my mom pressure me into an abortion. Would you at least talk to me? Please?”
Dredging up all those old memories was not something I really wanted to do. I had pretty much dealt with everything and moved on.
“I’m pretty much at peace with the past at this point. I just don’t see the point of rehashing it.”
“You had lots of people to talk to. I didn’t. I’ve never really been able to talk to anyone,” Becky said, her voice full of sadness.
Given this was Becky, my first thought was that it was just another game she was playing, just another attempt to pull me into a relationship that I knew would be doomed even before it began. Even a friendship with Becky was fraught with all kinds of risks and danger. But, given the circumstances, I was probably the only person she could really talk to. I’d have to set limits, though, for my own sake. It was risky, but I was reluctant to let her suffer if I could help her.
“I’ll talk with you. But it has to be somewhere semi-public. We can have privacy, but not somewhere alone. And you need to know that I have a steady girlfriend, and we’re exclusive now.”
“I just want to talk. There’s an hour between dinner and the dance. We could sit in the hotel lobby. There are a couple of couches there that are private enough. Would that work?”
“Sure, that’s fine.”
After the last two presentations, the organizers covered how Saturday would work. In the morning, each country’s representatives would have a small meeting room where students could go to ask questions and spend time talking to each side. We would be divided into groups of six students, and we would be responsible for a ten minute presentation on Saturday afternoon about one major issue separating the government and the opposition. My rough guess was that there would be between three and four hours of presentations. Saturday evening, after dinner, was free time, and there were discounted movie tickets available. Sunday morning would be the closing session with an address by an Under-Secretary of State, followed by lunch.
During the half-hour break between the presentations and dinner, I went back to my room and relaxed. I turned on the radio and pulled out All the King’s Men and read. I was taking quite a few notes as well, and formulating my thesis, so reading was slower than usual. I only got through about fifteen pages before I had to head down to dinner.
When I walked into the dining room, I found that we had assigned places, and were seated randomly around the room. I was at a table with nine students from schools spread around the Tri-State area. Five kids were from schools in the city, the rest of us were from the suburbs, including two from Kentucky and one from Indiana. The food was decent, and I was entertained by the seven guys, all trying to impress the two girls at our table. One of them was constantly looking my way, but I wasn’t really interested. I’d made my commitment to Kara and, despite the flirty looks and smiles, I avoided anything that might convey interest.
When dinner was finished, I went to find Becky. We walked to the lobby and found a sofa that was along a wall in a fairly quiet area.
“OK, Becky, talk,” I said evenly.
“Can’t you please be a bit nicer?” she asked softly. “Please?”
I took a deep breath, let it out, and said, “I’m sorry. Tell me what you want to talk about.”
“Everything, I guess,” she sighed. “Everything I did wrong. Everything I messed up. About our baby. About my deceiving you. About the abortion. About us,” she said, a tear rolling down her cheek.
On reflex, I moved my hand to wipe the tear away and Becky smiled at me, that same smile that had always melted my heart. I felt bad for how she felt. She was right, I should be nicer to her.
“Just let it out. I’ll listen,” I said gently.
“I guess the first thing to say is that ever since you met me, and even before, I’ve been scared. Scared of relationships, scared of sex, scared of losing you, scared of being pregnant, scared about having the abortion, scared that my entire life would fall apart because I was foolish and insecure. Scared that nobody would want me,” Becky said, trying to hold back tears.
She was still the same frightened girl who I had known, and the events of the past two years had only fed her fears. I’d had a small part in that, I felt, because I should have known what it meant to her to make love, to give me her virginity. But I was young and stupid then. Of course, at seventeen I wasn’t exactly old, but I was certainly wiser and had more experience. I’d screwed up enough times and learned from those experiences. It didn’t stop me from being dumb, but I liked to think I’d gotten better. I was sure my sister would disagree, but that seemed to be her role in my life!
“We’re all scared,” I said gently, trying to reassure her. “Growing up is hard. We make lots of mistakes and cause lots of pain, both to ourselves and others. We have to learn from those mistakes and put them behind us. They will shape us, but we can’t let them control us. I have a very good friend who was raped when she was thirteen and ended up pregnant. She had an abortion. For a couple of years, her entire life was defined by that rape. Eventually, she decided not to be a ‘rape victim’ for the rest of her life. She’ll never forget what happened, but she no longer allows it to define who she is.
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