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A Fresh StartChapter 17: Independence free porn video
Well, it sounded like a good idea at the time...
After all, isn’t a swinging bachelor pad the dream of every high school kid in America? Wild parties every night! Nobody to tell you NO! You can drink and do drugs and get laid whenever you want! Right?
Well, maybe yes and maybe no. The getting is one thing, the keeping is another. For one thing, somebody has to pay for this. I was figuring that I could live in the apartment and be independent for about $6k a year. Figure another grand or two for additional living expenses - wine, women, and song. I had roughly $50k in the brokerage account. At ten percent appreciation a year, which was the average market growth during the period, that didn’t cover the $6k. I was doing much better than that, of course, but I still needed to conserve my funds. Fortunately, I knew what was going to happen to Ling-Temco-Vought and Gulf+Western, and Intel had their IPO earlier this year. Still, I needed to watch my pennies. It wasn’t going to be parties every night.
My big dilemma with my funds was that I needed to conserve and build my cash for the two upcoming events which would make me a multi-millionaire. In 1973 oil was going to skyrocket, and in 1979 silver was going to go even higher (relatively speaking) before collapsing back. The more money I managed to make and save now, the more I would be able to leverage then. I figured I could conservatively manage ten-fold returns on every dollar in 1973, and more than that in 1979. I was reading the Wall Street Journal and Fortune religiously.
Another reason was that all of this took time. Time to cook, time to do wash, time to clean house. This was all on top of time to do homework, time to run and exercise, and time to go to aikido class. I even contemplated quitting the pizzeria, to free up some time, but at least that provided some income. The only way to handle it was through rock solid discipline and time management. The average sixteen-year-old would never be able to handle it. By now I must be at least seventy, depending on how you count it. I had discipline to spare.
The one thing I knew I didn’t want to do was let everybody know I had moved out of my house. If the rest of the school thought I had my own place, I would be under never-ending pressure to be the party spot every weekend and most weeknights. Leaving aside that this didn’t actually appeal all that much to me, telling people no would piss them off. Far simpler to not let them know. It would come out eventually, but better later than sooner.
Not that I was going to live as a monk. Tuesday, after school, I met up with one of the guys I knew, one of the Vo-Tech crew who looked like he was better at robbing liquor stores than buying from them. Really, he was a very nice guy who just liked to ride and repair motorcycles. He ended up owning a Harley-Davidson franchise and did very well for himself. James ‘Tusker’ Tusk was in the tenth grade like me, but had been held back a year, and looked older anyway. I had him drive his car over to Towson Liquors with a list and a fifty. He drove back to school, and we transferred it to my trunk. I let him keep the change and a couple of sixes of beer. I let him think I was stocking up for a party.
I carried it up to the apartment covered with an old blanket, and then poured myself a shot of Black Velvet. It had been a long time since I had a drink! Felt good. After that I made myself a Seven & Seven and did my chores around the place. The biggest problem with living as a bachelor, which I remembered from my first go-around, was that if I made a nice meal, I always ended up with leftovers. All my recipes were family sized.
The one person I knew I was going to have to tell was the one I was most nervous about - Jeana. I wasn’t worried about her telling anybody, but she might not be all that thrilled about a boyfriend that independent. Certainly, her parents wouldn’t be! Dating is one thing, when the only place you can be alone with a girl is the back seat of the car in winter. A boyfriend with his own apartment is quite a different matter!
It had to be faced, however. The Monday after Thanksgiving, the same day I was moving into the apartment, Jeana told me that she would be able to come over to the house for dinner the following weekend. This was after my offer to her to bring her over at Thanksgiving, which she couldn’t attend. I ducked it by saying I would have to check with my mother, and then ducked it again later in the week, by saying we had guests coming in from out of town and we would have to wait. She just nodded in understanding. The following Monday, she asked again.
I was going to have to face this at some point. We had been dating three or four weeks already, and Jeana had already accepted when I asked her to the Christmas Dance at the school. I asked if she wanted to see my house that afternoon. Her eyes lit up, and after school I helped carry her books to the Galaxie and we took off. I drove over to the house, but parked across the street, and didn’t move to get out.
Jeana didn’t recognize where we were or understand why we had parked here but were sitting in the car. I turned to her and said, “Jeana, this is actually very painful and very personal. I have to ask you, please, not to tell anybody what I am about to tell you. Nobody, not your friends, and certainly not your parents, and I can’t tell you why until you agree.”
“I don’t understand,” she said, confusion tinting her voice.
“I know, but I am asking you to trust me. Can you trust me?”
She nodded slightly. “Yes.”
I nodded in return. I pointed out the windshield at the house. “That is my parent’s house. I grew up in that house, but I moved out a week ago. I have my own apartment now. I live on my own.”
“I don’t understand! What do you mean you moved out? You don’t live at home? You’re only sixteen.”
I took a deep breath. “I’m only sixteen. My brother - I think I’ve mentioned he’s a real pain?” She nodded agreement. “My brother, he’s more than a pain. He’s actually somewhat unstable. He’s dangerous, or at least with me he is. I had to move out, for my own safety. I made an agreement with my folks to move to an apartment in town. I moved out a week ago.”
Jeana looked shocked. “Can’t you go to the cops? About your brother, I mean.”
I shrugged and gave her a wry grin. “If only it was that simple.” I put the car in Drive. “Come on, let me show you where I live now.” We drove back over towards school, and I parked in my slot at the side of the garage. “I live upstairs.”
“Can I see it?”
“Sure. Just don’t tell your parents. They won’t be happy about any of this.”
I don’t think she believed me until I unlocked the door to the apartment and let her in. I played the gracious host, taking her coat and ushering her to an armchair in my living room area. “Can I get you something to drink?”
Jeana smiled. “What do you have?”
“That’s actually a very good question.” I opened up the refrigerator and peered in. “There’s some Coke ... some OJ ... a couple of beers...” I glanced over at her. “I don’t think your parents want me taking you home smelling like either a brewery or a distillery.”
“You’ve got beer?” she asked, shocked.
“Liquor, too, if you’re interested. I suspect your parents will send us both to jail if they found out, so please don’t tell them,” I replied. I pulled out some Cokes. “How about a Coke? Then you can tell me what you like and the next time you visit I’ll have something for you.”
She nodded and I poured some Coca Cola over ice for us. I brought it over and sat down on the couch facing her. “Not exactly what you expected, is it?”
Jeana drank some of her Coke and then came over and sat next to me on the couch. “Talk to me. Tell me what happened.”
“Oh, Christ, what happened? Okay, you asked. Don’t say I never warned you.” I lay back against the arm of the couch and Jeana cuddled up against me and looked up at me with those brown eyes. I told her most of it, though I left out the part about Hamilton dumping the rubbers at the table. I really didn’t think that was a good topic to bring up with a young virgin I was planning on seducing.
She was silent at the end, and I wondered if I had put her to sleep, but then she stirred and crawled up my body and kissed me. “I am so sorry. What can I do to help?”
Oh, Jeana, if you only knew. “You help just be being here. That’s all I need.”
“So why all the secrecy?” she asked.
“What do you think is going to happen when everyone in the world knows I am living on my own? Do you think your parents are going to let you come over here to visit? Do you think half the school is going to think they can come over here to party all the time? Can you think of anything positive that will result?”
“Do you really think that will happen?”
“Oh, baby, you have no idea! I’d never get anything done! And do you really think your parents are going to approve of this?”
She smiled ruefully at that. “Well, probably not.”
“Probably? Do you think there is any possibility whatsoever that your father would want you to be alone in my apartment on my couch while I was doing wicked things with you?” I leaned my face down to kiss her on the lips.
Jeana moaned slightly and crawled higher up, and in doing so my cock stiffened. It was my turn to start groaning. “How wicked?”
“Wicked, wicked, wicked...” I held her tightly and we began making out on the couch. If I have to spend my life alone, I definitely prefer it to be with a cuddly and beautiful young woman. I didn’t get too ‘fresh’ with her, limiting my hands to roaming all over her back and rear. I did determine she was wearing a rather substantial bra with a rear buckle, but hey, Jeana was packing some serious hooters; she needed a serious bra. We kissed with a lot of tongue action and some mutual groans and moans for about an hour, and then I rolled off her and took several deep breaths while sitting on the floor.
“Honey, we keep going like that, I’m not going to get you home until it is way too late!”
Jeana was breathing just as hard and looked at least as flustered as I did. “I think we should go.”
I just nodded and pointed her towards the bathroom. I splashed some water on my face at the kitchen sink, and then used the bathroom after she got out. When I exited the bathroom, I found her standing in the doorway to my bedroom. “Is that where I get to find out about the Carl Buckman Experience?, she asked.
I just groaned and rolled my eyes. “You keep kissing me like earlier, and you’ll get that experience sooner than you think.”
“I just think the bed might be more comfortable.”
“Is that an invitation?” I asked.
Jeana blushed. “Not just yet!”
I grabbed her coat. “Then don’t tease! Let’s get you home before I regret letting you go.”
I got her home in time for dinner, explaining that I had taken Jeana over to the house, which was technically true. I didn’t stick around but went home and made myself some canned beef stew. Then I did a shitload of homework and went to bed.
I called home the next afternoon. It took me two tries, since the first time Hamilton picked up, hung up, and took the phone off the hook. Fifteen minutes later I called back, and Suzie answered. She bellowed for Mom, and a moment later I heard the click as Mom picked up the phone, and then a second click as Suzie hung up. “Hello?”
“Hi, Mom.”
“Carling! It’s so good to hear from you. How are you? Are you ready to end this foolishness and move back home yet?”
Trust my mother to blow off my moving out as foolishness. Just then, to act as a counterpoint to her argument, I heard another click on the line. “No, Mom, I’m not moving home.” I raised my voice. “Hamilton, hang up the phone. It’s very rude.”
I could suddenly hear the telephone being muffled, and a faint “Hamilton, are you on the phone?” being called out. There was another click on the line, and Mom called out a second time, and then she said, “Carl, nobody was on the line. Stop picking on your brother like that!”
“Right, Mom. Here’s another good story - the check is in the mail.”
“Carling, stop it!”
I shrugged to myself. “Okay, Mom, the reason I called was to see if you and Dad were going to be home on Sunday.”
“Where else would we be? Why?”
“I’d like to bring Jeana over for a few minutes after church. Would that be all right?” I answered.
“Oh, that would be lovely. What do you think she would like for dinner? Maybe I can see if your aunts and uncles can come over, too...” Mom started rattling on, planning our engagement party.
“No, Mom, nothing like that. We won’t be coming for dinner. She just asked and I offered to bring her over. We’ll be there maybe an hour, tops. No family, Mom.”
“But Carl...”, she protested.
“No, Mom. And one other thing. If Ham isn’t on his best behavior, and I mean good enough for the White House, we’ll never be back.”
“Don’t you dare threaten me!”
“Best behavior, Mom!”
We said good-bye after that. All in all, it was a strange and strained conversation. I decided to call Dad at his office tomorrow. At least he wasn’t going to try and tell me how I misunderstood my brother.
I asked Jeana the next morning if she wanted to come over to my place on Sunday for dinner. She gave me a funny look and said, “I thought you didn’t live at home anymore.”
I returned her funny look. “I don’t. Why?”
“Then who’s making dinner?”
“Well, I am, of course. Anything in particular you’d like?”
“You cook?” she asked, astonished.
I gave her a peeved look. “Yes, I cook! I’ll have you know I took two years of home ec at Towsontown Junior High! I was an honors graduate of their fine dining tradition!”
She started laughing at me. “I don’t know what’s funnier, that you can cook or that you took home ec. You really took home economics?”
I held my hand up and made the Scout Sign. “Would I lie? What do you want me to make?”
“Me?”
“Tell me what you want, and I’ll make it.”
“You’re serious?” she asked. I nodded. “Pheasant under glass!”
I smiled. “Too many leftovers. And no glass. But I could do a chicken or small turkey.”
“God, no! We just had a turkey! You’re actually serious about cooking, aren’t you?” she said.
“I am. I am quite competent in the kitchen. I gather your father doesn’t do much in the kitchen?”
“Daddy can’t get his own ice cubes!”
I laughed at that. God knows I’ve seen many men like that. Some women, too. I married one. “Do you like seafood?”
Her eyes lit up. “I love seafood!”
“How about shrimp scampi over noodles, with garlic bread on the side, and perhaps some white wine, a nice Pinot Grigio for example.”
“For real?”
“Trust me on this. It will be delicious,” I assured her.
“Okay, you’re on, but I’ll believe it when I see it.”
“Trust me!”
“Make sure you have some hamburger thawed out, just in case!” She kissed me and went off to class.
This was really a no-brainer for a guy, any guy. If you pull it off, you look like a suave and sophisticated man of the world. If you fumble it, you look like you tried, and she gets to rescue you. There is no downside. I wasn’t going to fumble it, either. This was a family favorite that I learned from my mother. Aside from the shrimp, it is fairly inexpensive. I had already copied the recipe before I moved out. I had everything, including the wine, by Friday afternoon.
I traded off Sunday hours for a Saturday afternoon shift at the pizzeria. That evening I told her I was making the weekend all about her. Jeana’s eyes lit up. “What do you mean?”
“Just what I said. This is your weekend. Tonight, pick out whatever movie you want, no matter how much of a girlie movie it is, and tomorrow I cook for you.”
“I still can’t believe you’re cooking for me. My friends will never believe it!”
I smiled. “Just don’t tell them I’m cooking for you at my apartment. Tell them I’m doing the cooking over at ‘his house’ and imply my parents were there.”
“So, nobody knows you have an apartment.”
“And so none of your girlfriends decide to check out what is obviously a good thing by coming over for their own cooking lessons!” I laughed at her and leaned down to kiss her, squelching her return remarks.
Jeana stuck her tongue out at me. “Just for that, I’m picking out a movie you are going to hate!” I did, too. It was the last weekend The Last Picture Show was playing. We were still a week or two away from the releases of Dirty Harry and Diamonds Are Forever. I promised retribution.
Jeana had asked what to wear to my parents’ to meet them. I had suggested something simple yet sophisticated looking, like a fancy blouse and black slacks. She told me she had both, and I figured that with her trademark high heels she would look elegant and older than she was.
I was right, too. Jeana wore a long-sleeved cream-colored fitted silk blouse with a high collar, high waisted tight black slacks, and black pumps. She wore just a trace of makeup, and kept her hair tied back with a simple black ribbon. I picked her up shortly after noon, and told her, “You look gorgeous.”
“Is this all right?” she asked nervously.
“Perfect. My mother will love you!”
We made our escape, after promising I would bring her home that evening after supper, although I did say that wouldn’t be until eight or maybe nine. Her parents didn’t care; why should they, I was taking their daughter to meet my parents, not off to my bachelor love shack!
It was somewhat weird sitting in the living room with my parents like guests. They spent several minutes talking to Jeana and asking her the standard questions, like where did she live and what did her parents do. Nana was introduced, but promptly went to her room to lie down. Daisy came bounding up, so I got down on the floor to play with her, and then Suzie bounced through and was very amusing, even asking the question no one dared to ask, which was whether we were going over to my apartment later. I finessed that and said we weren’t really sure; we were going out to dinner. (Yes - out to dinner at the apartment. Not exactly a lie.) Then Suzie was off, followed by Daisy, who had quickly found a new master. Hamilton even made an entrance, although both he and I noticed that our father was watching him like a hawk. He was sent off as quickly as possible. Everybody glossed over the fact that I didn’t want to live there anymore.
All in all, a decidedly awkward afternoon, for all involved.
After about an hour, I figured we had done our duty, and Jeana had met the family. I nudged her tastefully and silently tapped my watch. She nodded and I mentioned that we had to be going and stood up. Jeana popped up like a little marionette, and despite some pro forma complaints from my mother, we made our escape.
Jeana spoke up first. “You have a very nice family.”
“Thank you. Would you like them? Think of it as the Christmas present that keeps on giving.”
She snorted and laughed. “That’s all right. I already have one of my own.”
“Maybe we can swap. That way you can end up as crazy as I am.”
“They’re not that bad! I think you’re being kind of hard on them.”
I sighed at that. “Yes - and no. You’re right, they’re not that bad. Dad’s okay. Suzie’s a little doll. Nana’s okay but more than a bit flaky these days. I think they’re trying to put her in a home. Even Mom isn’t bad, in a snooty, fancy sort of way. The problem is my brother, who is just totally off the fucking wall batshit crazy and out of control. He drives people away and makes them just as crazy as he is. I just hope Suzie can escape before he drives her around the bend as well.” Before, she had escaped, but he hadn’t been as bad then. Now I wondered.
We got to the apartment, and I let Jeana in. Her first comment was, “You’ve done something with the place! It looks different!”
I smiled. “Yes and no. Mostly I’ve been cleaning and getting my stuff put away. I did pick up a few things. Does it look better?”
“You bet!” she gushed. “Can you come over and work on my room?”
“Absolutely! Right after I get written permission from your father to spend the afternoon in your bedroom with you!”
Jeana blushed. “Let me think about that.”
I took our coats and hung them in the closet. “While you’re thinking about it, I need to start dinner.”
“You were serious about cooking?”
“Very.”
“What can I do to help?” she asked.
I grabbed one of the bar stools I had bought and brought it into the kitchen. “You can sit up here and inspire me to greatness.”
Jeana giggled and climbed onto the stool and crossed her legs. “Inspire you?”
“You have no idea!” I opened the refrigerator and pulled out a bottle of white wine. I know it’s supposed to be cooled, not cold, but I figured Jeana wouldn’t know and I didn’t have a wine cooler available. “Wine?” I asked.
“You were serious about that, too?”
“Absolutely.” I pulled out a couple of small glasses from a cupboard and fished a corkscrew out of a drawer. I didn’t have any stemware, but I was able to pick up a decent set of glassware and Corelleware dishes at Hutzlers using Mom’s twenty percent employee discount. “I think you’ll like this. At least I hope you’ll like it. It’s a Pinot Grigio, sort of an Italian Chardonnay, not too dry.” I pulled the cork and poured her a small bit in her glass. “Try it.”
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