Jillian And Her sister Summer 1989
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DominoesChapter 13: Summer 1989-1 The Groundskeepers free porn video
Waking up on Friday morning as a high school graduate changed nothing, except that I was going to have some free time to reflect on the way Cindy had left. Strangely, I felt no loss, just cheated that we hadn't talked about what had happened in the cottage.
The free time that I thought I was looking forward to having, evaporated at breakfast. First, Mr. Oldham invited me, well; he informed me that I was going to accompany him to the office that day. And then Suzanne told me that Mr. Oldham was going to play golf with us on Tuesday afternoon. "If he likes playing with us he may join us every week," she said, smiling adoringly at him.
Mr. Oldham didn't lower his newspaper. What a pity he didn't see how Suzanne looked at him. I wondered if he knew what he had in Suzanne.
"That's great," I said to acknowledge her announcement.
"If you invite a friend to play with us we can make it a foursome," Suzanne said. She had no idea that the mere mention of a foursome generated a vision in my mind of the three girls in the cottage.
Who would I invite to play? How many golfers did I know? Karen Parker was the only one that came to mind, and Cindy had destroyed my chances with her. In one day Cindy had defined the meaning of one domino, the three dots and one dot and she had tarnished the meaning I had assigned to another one. I would be lucky if Karen ever spoke to me again; I could forget about the domino; us having sex together twelve times.
Mr. Oldham dropped his newspaper and told me it was time to get ready. We were going to work.
I went upstairs, shaved and got dressed for the office. I had graduated from high school the day before and deserved some time to relax, didn't I? Had he forgotten how hard I worked in school? What the fuck was going on?
As I was following Mr. Oldham out the front door, Suzanne said she would see us later. On the way to his office Mr. Oldham talked mainly about current events. We were in the elevator, between the third and forth floors when he told me why I was there.
"I want you to observe today," he said.
I nodded and we left it at that. What the fuck?
The first thing I noticed was the new secretary. Stacy, who occupied the open area between Mr. Oldham's and Suzanne's offices, was wearing a summer outfit, mauve, and a ready smile. She handed Mr. Oldham a stack of telephone messages and asked me if I wanted coffee. "It's no trouble," she assured me, but I declined anyway.
As I watched her trot off to get Mr. Oldham's coffee I 'observed' that Stacy also wore a wedding ring.
I spent the morning seated in a far corner of Mr. Oldham's office, observing a constant stream of visitors, some from outside the company and the rest being company executives. Mr. Oldham introduced me to each visitor, explaining to company people, "You remember Sam, he graduated high school yesterday." To visitors the message was different. "Meet my son, Sammy."
I shook hands with the visitors, nearly unable to contain my emotions. Mr. Oldham had just introduced me as his son; what the fuck?
Mr. Oldham kept all the meetings brief and to the point. Some of visitors made presentations, to which Mr. Oldham would make comments or suggestions and usually tell the visitor to see Stacy to make a follow-up appointment. When each visitor left, Mr. Oldham would move from the round table, where he held the meetings, to his desk where his telephone was located. While he was using the phone, Stacy would come into the office and make notes on a single sheet of paper he kept in front of him. I enjoyed her brief visits.
Denny greeted me warmly when he came in for a short meeting. "What are you going to be doing this summer?" he asked and I had to tell him I didn't know yet.
Mr. Oldham answered that question for both of us. "Sam's going to observe," he said. What the fuck was he talking about? What department would I be assigned to?
Suzanne stuck her head into the office at about ten A.M., winked at me and waved to Mr. Oldham. I don't know if she was just arriving at the office or she was between appointments herself. When we left the office on our way to lunch a substitute was seated at Stacy's desk and Suzanne's office was dark and empty.
It was a business lunch. We met a prospective investor who was interested in one of the Real Estate Investment Trusts that Mr. Oldham's company managed. Again, Mr. Oldham introduced me as his son. I half-listened to their conversation, only pricking up my ears when I heard Mr. Oldham quote a statistic that I recognized from working with Denny the summer before.
The afternoon was a near duplicate of the morning with three exceptions. We moved to a conference room for one of the same presentations we had seen that morning, only this time several executives were in attendance. After that we went to the cafeteria where a birthday party for a female employee was in progress. We only stayed long enough to sample the cake and for Mr. Oldham to wish the young lady happy birthday. Then it was back to Mr. Oldham's office for more meetings and telephone calls.
Just when I thought I would fall asleep from boredom, the third exception arrived for an appointment and I saw a domino fall.
"This is my son, Sam. He graduated from high school yesterday," Mr. Oldham said to the young woman as they shook hands. She turned to congratulate me before taking her seat. I got the impression she would have preferred that I not be in the room.
I alertly 'observed' the conversation and gleaned that her name was Wanda Rowell. Mr. Oldham was seeing her as a courtesy to her father who was an investor in one company's R E I T's. Wanda was seeking Mr. Oldham's advice concerning her continuing education. She had just received her Bachelor of Science degree in Business from Pontiac College and had been accepted in the school's Master of Business Administration program, which was to begin in September.
Wanda was having second thoughts about continuing her education. "As you know, my father is in ill health and I'm an only child."
Mr. Oldham said that he was aware of Mr. Rowell's health issues, but he was unaware that he only had one child.
"I'm thinking of withdrawing from the masters program and concentrating on a few more undergraduate subjects that will help me manage dad's investments, courses in architecture, insurance, even business law," Wanda said, looking to Mr. Oldham for guidance.
I expected him to tell her that I was going to attend Pontiac College, but he didn't. I was hoping he would say, "Sam is entering the school as a freshman and it would be a big help if you would answer his many questions." But instead, he urged Wanda to proceed with her plans, saying an MBA would serve her well in any career she chose to follow.
Wanda became insistent, wanting Mr. Oldham to agree with her that it would be more helpful to understand construction techniques than the theoretical management methods taught in the masters program.
Mr. Oldham wouldn't let her sway him, nor did he go further to convince her that his advice was sound. They were at an impasse. He asked her to give his regards to her father and Wanda left the office in a huff, without even glancing my way.
The dots on the domino came to me. It was snake eyes, one dot on each end of the domino. I decided it meant Wanda Rowell and I would be getting together even though the graduate school was across the river from the undergraduate school.
We could hear some of the employees in the outer office saying goodnight to each other. Suzanne came into the office and took a seat across from Mr. Oldham. She picked up the sheet of paper that had been of interest to him and his secretary all day. She told me to have a seat at the table.
"It's test time, Sammy. Let's see how much you've observed."
"You didn't say anything about a test," I objected, looking at Mr. Oldham for help and getting none.
"What did you observe? Start with this morning," Suzanne said.
I closed my eyes because I didn't want to see their reaction if I made a mistake. I tried to name the visitors and the subjects discussed. If I couldn't remember their name, I described them as best I could. Suzanne had the benefit of having the schedule in front of her. She made a clucking sound each time I got an appointment out of order or couldn't remember what the meeting was about. I tried to make Wanda Rowell's visit sound trivial, saying she was seeking advice. I opened my eyes to see Suzanne looking at Mr. Oldham.
"Oh, is that Earl Rowell's daughter?" she asked. Mr. Oldham confirmed that she was correct.
"Does she look more like her father or her mother?" Susanne asked, this time directing the question at me.
"I've never seen her parents," I said, suspecting Suzanne was trying to trick me.
"Describe her and I'll decide which one she favors," Suzanne said, toying with me like she loved to do.
I decided to get it over with; otherwise she would tease me the rest of the evening. "Five six, one hundred ten and one-half pounds, wearing a black suit with three inch heels, short dark hair, dark eyes and a dimple in the middle of her chin."
"Perfume?"
"Yes, but I can't name it."
"Any distinguishing characteristics?"
"Yes, green fingernails, whiny voice and thin ankles."
"Green fingernails?"
"I noticed that too," Mr. Oldham inserted, coming to my rescue.
Suzanne took pity on me. "Take my car, Sammy. We'll be home in an hour or..." she glanced at the paper she had been holding and then looked at Mr. Oldham before continuing, "possibly longer."
Stacy came into the office with another sheet of paper and said goodnight. I walked out with her and we rode the elevator to the lobby together.
"What's on the paper you and Mr. Oldham are so interested in?" I asked.
A slight smile came to her face. "That's Mr. Oldham's work schedule. We make notes about what was discussed with visitors and telephone calls he takes. Sometimes we have to use the back but that one sheet of paper becomes the history of the day. As you know, Mr. Oldham likes everything kept simple and orderly."
"I know he doesn't like to waste paper," I said and Stacy smiled her agreement.
I would have liked to have asked Stacy more questions to see if she knew what my summer employment was going to involve, but someone was waiting for her, a man that I assumed to be her husband. "Have a good weekend, Sammy," she said as we parted.
I always liked driving Suzanne's car, especially when she wasn't with me. Since she moved in with us, full time, she preferred that the car be parked in the garage. I decided to drive around the neighborhood for a few minutes before putting the car away.
It was nearing six P.M. on Friday evening and the tennis courts were beginning to empty, but I spotted Sean McCarthy and I stopped to say hello.
"Want to do something later?" he asked.
"I don't know. What do you have in mind?"
"There's a party at the house in back of me," he offered.
"I'll have to see if I can get out," I said, wanting to check my telephone messages before settling for a neighborhood party where I didn't know anyone. I was still holding out a glimmer of hope that the six and six domino might come true. What if Karen called?
Sadly, there were no messages and no mail had arrived. I checked the oven in the kitchen to see what Betsy had prepared for our dinner before heading out to the pool to take a few laps.
Ned surprised me when he dived in at the far end of the pool and slowly approached me. "Have any more dominoes made their appearance?" he asked.
"Yes, I saw one today," I said and for the next fifteen minutes I entertained him with the account of Wanda Rowell's visit to Mr. Oldham's office. I described her looks, short dark hair, green fingernails and slim ankles. I also describer her disposition toward me as dismissive, like I wasn't in the room.
"What do you think the domino means?"
"I think it means whatever I want it to mean," I answered, realizing I was being cocky, but truthful. I had become convinced that the outcome of the dots on the domino would be what I wanted it to be, except that I was having second doubts about Karen's domino. Perhaps Cindy's antics had altered the outcome?
"Your dominoes have certainly piqued Penelope's interest," Ned said. "She says she doesn't believe in your theory, but she still wants to know if any more come true."
"Me too," I said. Oh how I wanted one more to come true.
At dinner Mr. Oldham outlined my summer work program. Since my vacation had been cut short by the flu epidemic at school and by the early start of classes at Pontiac, his demands on me were not great. He wanted me to 'observe' the company and write a paper on my findings.
"You can spend as much time at the office as you like. You will have freedom to interview executives, managers and workers as you see fit. I have some suggestions, but the approach you take will be up to you."
Mr. Oldham didn't expand on his suggestions and I didn't press him as to what they were. I was trying to think of how I would go about the assignment. I didn't want to spend my whole summer sitting in a corner and 'observing' like I had done that day.
I called Sean to say I was going to stay in, but that I would see him the next day and perhaps we could make plans for Saturday night. I didn't commit to firm plans because there was always the fingers-crossed possibility that Karen Parker would call.
Suzanne came into my room before turning in for the night, saying she had spoken to Mr. Oldham about my summer project and she wanted to clear up any question I might have about it.
"John will announce at his Monday morning staff meeting that you will be conducting interviews within the company. Knowing John, he won't dictate that everyone sit up and do tricks, but you will have a passport to go anyplace and talk to anyone and ask anything you desire. If anyone gives you any crap, come to me, okay?"
"I won't have any trouble getting what I want," I tried to assure her.
"Don't be so sure. John tells people you're his son, but all the employees know that you're adopted. In any case, there is the 'bosses son' stigma to be dealt with. If you don't receive the respect you deserve come to me. I'll take care of it, okay?"
"Okay," I said, having no intentions of ratting anyone out.
Suzanne gave me some other insight about my summer assignment. "You're going to be on your own at college. This is John's way of helping you become accustomed to being responsible without anyone looking over your shoulder. You can goof off all summer or you can work your ass off; it's up to you. It will be the same at school. But just between you and me, John's counting on you to do an outstanding job, both this summer and at school," she said, winking at me.
"Thanks, Aunt Suzanne," I said as she left my room.
She was out the door before she turned. "Remember, I'm the bulldog. Come to me even if someone looks at you cross-eyed. I don't want John knowing anything about it," she said before disappearing.
I went out for an early run on Saturday morning, had breakfast with Mr. Oldham and went upstairs to my room to glare at the telephone, willing it to ring. At nine-thirty I gave up and dialed Karen's number.
We got into an argument before I had a chance to invite her to play golf with us. She blamed me for the way Cindy had disrupted the softball practice and I accused her of lowering Barbara in the batting order in retaliation.
I didn't apologize for Cindy's actions and she didn't admit to doing anything to make Barbara renege on her promise. "You cost me a blowjob," I said.
"You cost yourself a blowjob. You and your ... slut, 'camel-toe' girlfriend are not welcome at my practices, ever again," she said, sounding agitated.
"She went back to school. Anyway, she's not my girlfriend," I answered, trying to sound calm.
"You're still not welcome at my practices," she said her voice sounding tense.
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