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Subject: {ASSM} The Second Chance (2)
Date: Sun, 9 Jul 2000 23:10:28 -0400
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<1st attachment, "TSC (2).txt" begin>
Chapter Two
"Tommy," my mother called up the stairs. "There's a letter for you."
I had never before received a letter, and I could not imagine who would
write me. I jumped from the bed where I had been reading and clattered
down the stairs two at a time.
"You seem to have a pen pal," Mom grinned as I snatched the envelope
from her hand and went out onto the porch.
I sat on the top step and turned the item over in my hand. It was
addressed in a childish scrawl to Thomas Horger. I ripped it open and
found a single slip of paper inside upon which was written, again in the
same immature hand: "Are you the Thomas Horger who remembers Alice
Farnsworth, nee Colsen?" I shuddered, breathed out and failed to inhale
until I gasped. Alice! Alice has followed me! I thought with
incredulity. I looked again and saw an address for Alice Colsen and a phone
number. All boyish thoughts were swept from my mind. I was again fully an
adult. I got up and went back into the house.
"May I use the phone?" I asked my mother in a distracted voice, not at
all like that of her young son.
She looked at me queerly.
"Is there something wrong, Tommy?" she asked anxiously.
"I need to call someone in Chicago."
"Tommy, you sound so strange."
"Please I need to make this call. I can't explain."
I still spoke in a soprano voice, but one with the determination of an
adult who expects to be obeyed.
"Darling, if there's anything . . . . .
"Mother I must make this phone call and in private," I said sternly.
She looked at me, her pretty boy, as though I had been suddenly
possessed by an alien, which was close to the truth.
"Yes, of course. I'll go outside," she said with a curious
submissiveness and went onto the porch.
I dialed the number and after three rings a woman's voice answered.
"May I speak to Alice?" I asked in my sweet sounding soprano.
"Who's calling?" the woman asked suspiciously.
"I'm Melissa from school," I lied.
A moment later a child's voice said "Hello?"
"Alice this is Tom," I said with some urgency. "I gave my name as
Melissa. Can you talk?"
"Pretty soon, Melissa," the child answered. Then in the same little
girl voice she said, "Yes, Tom. I'm alone now."
"Alice!" I fumed. "Why did you do this?"
"Tom, I can't explain it now. My mother will be back in a minute. I
need to see you, but I'm just a little girl and I can't get away. Give me
your number. I'm in a freakish situation. I need to escape."
"Are you healthy?" I asked.
"Yes, and you?"
"I'm twelve years old, Alice. Can you believe it?"
I gave her my telephone number and we then hung up. I shook my head in
astonishment. Alice would be nine or ten years old. I wondered what she
looked like.
* * *
That afternoon `Aunt' Clara came to visit as she did every week or so.
She wasn't really my aunt but an old friend of my parents who had doted on
me since I could remember. She frequently brought me presents, although
none that time
"Hi, Tommy," she gushed and gave me a grand embrace accompanied by
kisses to my face.
Until that day I had always accepted such familiarity like a little boy,
but the new guy inside of me relished the smell of the woman and the feel
of her body. She was no taller than I, five two. Clara was a pretty,
dainty creature with short cropped hair as black as obsidian. She was only
thirty years old, although she moved and spoke with a grace and dignity
that seemed to be much older. I had a fond affection for her, and she
obviously loved me.
"She can't have children, Tom," my mother once explained with a smile.
"She wants to snatch you away.
I would very much like to have been snatched that afternoon, but Mom was
upset with with me and wanted to find comfort in Clara's visit. I hung
about and peeked in on them from time to time, wanting another kiss from
the pretty woman. But Mom shooed me away.
Before she left Clara found me on the front porch.
"You have a mysterious penpal I hear," she said as she palmed my cheek.
"She's in trouble, Clara, and I have to rescue her."
"Is it really that serious?" she replied and pulled me to her gently.
Her soft cheek was against mine. I felt her small breasts pressed to my
chest.
"You smell of honeysuckle," I whispered and sucked on her earlobe.
"Tommy, you shouldn't" she protested but did not let go of me.
Mom interrupted us, when she came to the front door. and we stood
quickly apart.
"Harriet," Clara announced. "I'd like to take Tommy down to my cabin
for a week or so. I have some chores for him. Do you mind?"
"He's at loose ends here, Clara. You can have him, if he wants to go."
Clara looked at me in a certain way I could not comprehend.
"Do you want to come with me, Tommy, perhaps a week from now?
"Sure," I replied.
I had been to her comfortable cabin before a number of times, and she
never asked me to work too hard. There was a warm pond not far away from
it where I loved to swim.
* * *
That evening, when my father returned from the university, I lounged on
the couch in the living room reading the financial pages of the newspaper.
I heard him whispering with my mother in the kitchen. He soon came into
the room and stood next to the couch.
"Tommy," he began with a certain gruffness, "do you realize that you
have frightened your mother?"
"No," I replied. "How have I scared her?"
"You didn't scare her. You've frightened her with your recent behavior,
especially today with that business about the phone call."
Dad sounded a bit testy.
"I have a penpal in Chicago. I had to call," I replied calmly.
He gave me a look of complete exasperation, although, as always, he held
his temper.
"Why are you reading the financial section," he blurted out. "You
haven't any stocks, and I surely don't."
"I'm going to get rich on the stock market," I answered, looking up at
him with a straight face.
"That's what I mean, Thomas! You've been talking so strange lately, and
that's what worries your mother."
I had to tell someone at least part of the truth, and he was the person
I most trusted. I tried to speak maturely, but my childish voice betrayed
the effort.
"I can see the future, Dad," I began slowly. "Sometime soon, and I
think it will be this week, you're going to smash your car at the
intersection of Summit and Elm. No one will be hurt, but you'll face a big
repair bill."
My father look at me in astonishment for just a moment and then grinned.
"I can ruin your prediction, Mandrake," he replied gaily as if we were
playing a game. "I'll take the bus for the next week."
"Yes," I said, looking at him intently. "If you take the bus, you'll
avoid the crash. And I also suggest you lose thirty pounds and see a
doctor about your high blood pressure, or you'll be dead from a stroke
within two years."
The man gaped at me with an open mouth.
"Tommy, this is not funny. What's gotten into you?"
"I want to tell you, Dad, but you won't believe me. I've told you about
the crash, so now you'll be more careful and avoid it. If you could
convince Uncle Alan not to go surfing next March off Malibu, he won't
drown. If you would advise Professor Smythe not to fool around with that
graduate student of his, I forget her name, there will be no scandal at the
university."
My father uttered a choking noise and glared at me with incomprehension.
"How did you hear about that? He almost shouted. "It was revealed to
the Faculty Senate just this afternoon."
"So you believe me?" I asked. "You accept the fact that I can see the
future?"
"Absolutely not!" he sputtered. "You learned about this somehow."
"I wish I could convince you," I sighed in regret. "But I cannot recall
all the minutiae from 1948."
"Then tell me about the new car styles for 1949," he challenged me.
"They've not been revealed yet, but I know them. I have a good friend at
GM."
"They're blocky, clunky looking." I replied in despair of convincing
him. "Ford Motor will give its employees a tin ashtray with the new Ford
model displayed on it. Aunt Gretta in Dearborn will get one, and she'll
give to me."
Dad pushed my legs aside and sat down beside me on the couch.
"Tom," he said in a restrained voice." Are you playing some kind of
prank? It's not at all like you."
I was suddenly overwhelmed with emotion and I pushed my face against his
shoulder. He fondled my head.
"What's the truth, boy?" he asked affectionately in a soft voice.
"The truth is more bizarre than you can imagine, Dad. I can tell you
about what's going to happen, and over a few weeks or months you'll see
that I'm right. What will you do then?"
"I'll love you as my son," he replied and kissed the top of my head,
where I had once been bald.
"I can't explain it, Dad. You're a philosopher, not a physicist.
"And you're a physicist?" he asked with a big smile..
"Yes. Ph.D. from Chicago in 1967. And I was awarded the Noble Prize
in 1987."
The man jerked upright and almost fell off the couch.
"There's no easy way to explain it, Dad. I know it sounds impossible,
but I'm from a different time. I'm sixty seven years old, but I'm also
your son.
"You claim to be from the future? he gasped and shook his head in
disbelief.
"Not exactly. I'm from a different universe."
He pressed his head against the back of the couch with his eyes closed,
as though he wanted to sleep and then awake to normalcy.
"It's true, Dad," I whispered. "It's all true."
His eyes blinked openly suddenly and he sat straight.
"It's not possible. It just can't be." Tears streamed down his cheeks.
"It's true, Dad. I would never lie to you."
"But you could be crazy. You could be brain damaged from that bike
accident of yours."
"I know the future, Dad. Be patient and check out what I tell you."
"I want you to talk to Dr. Sloan," he said with determination.
"No!" I replied with equal determination. "No one else can know of
this. Can you imagine what trouble I'd be in, if this became public?"
"Sloan is a psychiatrist, Tom. He would be able to understand this
better than I. You can trust him. We've been friends since kindergarten."
"I'm sorry," I said firmly. "No one else can know. It would be just
too dangerous. I'll write down some things I remember from this time,
inconsequential events like little Cindy Emmons finding a fifty cent piece
on the curb in front of her house, like Jimmy Fowler breaking his ankle.
Those things happened, will happen on our street perhaps in early Summer of
this year."
"Make your list, son. I can't say I believe you, because that would
take a leap of faith, and you know I'm not a religious man. So you're
either telling the truth, which is improbable, or you have a serious
problem.
"The problem I have, Dad, is quite serious. I'm a sixty seven year old
man caught in a twelve year old body. I need your help to get me through
this, to help me reach physical maturity without going through the tedium
of adolescence."
"I don't know how I can assist you in that. I can't control the growth
of your body."
"You can get me out of school somehow. I could take a college entrance
exam, perhaps."
"You're bright, Tommy, but aren't you afraid of making a fool of
yourself, and of me?"
"Please, arrange for the test. How could you look forward to going into
the seventh grade at the end of the Summer?"
He chuckled lightly and then blushed.
"What?" I asked.
"It's just I recall a saying about youth being wasted on the young."
"G. B. Shaw said that," I replied. It's an old man's fantasy, of
being young once again with the experience of a lifetime."
"It's a fantasy all right, but I don't consider myself to be an old
man."
"You're talking about sex, I suppose."
"What else?" he replied sheepishly. "Twelve year old girls can be
powerfully attractive, although, of course, one doesn't admit that in
public."
"Dad, do you realize that we've been conversing as adults?"
"Tommy, it's mind boggling," he replied and shook his head.
"There's a girl, Dad, a woman actually in a child's body. Her name is
Alice. She's the one I called today. She followed me. She killed herself
for me."
"Killed herself? The man looked aghast at me. "Tommy this is not
amusing."
"I killed myself, Dad. It was the only way to leave where. . .I was."
"This is becoming macabre and ugly, Thomas," he stated indignantly.
"Alice needs my help, our help. We have to go to Chicago."
"I need a drink," he said wearily with a wave of his hand and got up
from the couch.
"I'd like one too," I said. "Do you have any Stolichnaya?"
The confused, sweet man stared at me intently and then shook his head in
resignation.
"I can't afford a bar, Tom. All I have is a half bottle of Old Crow."
I felt very relieved that the truth was out, that my dad accepted me.
We talked long into the night and he allowed me more than one glass of
whiskey, which overwhelmed my small frame and set me asleep. Dad evidently
carried me to my bed, where I awoke the next morning with an aching head
and a troubled mind.
* * *
"But why?" I heard my mother's voice as I came down the stairs.
They were in the kitchen, from which wafted the odor of coffee and
toast.
"It's a guy thing, Harriet," Dad said. "We want to get away for a few
days together. It'll be good for the boy."
"So, where are you going?"
"To Chicago. We'll stay at Alan's cabin on Coldwater Lake for the
overnight."
I then came into the kitchen.
"Well, good morning , boy," my dad said with a grand smile.
Mom looked at me apprehensively, but I went to her, as usual, and gave
her a peck on the cheek. She suddenly grasped and squeezed me, and she
uttered a sound but not a word.
"You must be hungry," she eventually said. "What would you like before
your trip?"
"Pancakes," I responded in my soprano voice and sat down at the table
next to my father, who gave me a wink.
Like men of that time, we waited to be served by the woman of the house.
"Jimmy Fowler fell off his bike a little while ago, just in front of our
house," Mom said as she fussed at the stove. "He broke his ankle."
Dad's eyes grew huge, and he stared at me with a gaping mouth.
* * *
The address led us to a house divided into four apartments on Woodlawn
Avenue just north of the University of Chicago campus. I knew that
neighborhood so well.
"We can't park on this side of the street," my father grumbled and made
a U-turn..
Black Muslims used to dominate this area and keep it safe in their
fascist manner, but the few faces I saw on the street were white. I
suddenly recognized my logic error. I was in the past and remembering the
future.
My dad was worn out from the trip and a bit on edge.
"Is this the place?" he asked in exasperation as he pulled the car to
the curb.
"Yes, I believe so," I replied in a distracted voice, wondering whether
I had visited that house in the future for a seminar with a weird,
brilliant professor who paced before his students in his pajamas.
We got out of the car and walked up the cement stairs which led to the
front door. I pushed the buzzer and waited. Eventually the door opened to
reveal a young girl. who appeared to be tall for her age. Alice, as an
adult, was an inch taller than I.
"Yes?" she inquired.
"Are you Alice?" I asked. "I'm Tom."
She looked at me in astonishment, her mouth agape.
"Are you really Tom, Thomas Horger?"
I nodded, and she just stood there staring at me. She had an oval face
that was almost pretty. Her light brown hair hung loosely, in need of a
brush. Either she or the apartment had a sourer aroma. She was not
skinny; her limbs were well filled out and shapely, although her blouse
betrayed nothing. She was just a few inches shorter than I.
"Professor Horger," she finally said, "you are a very pretty boy."
"No prettier than you, Mrs. Farnsworth," I replied with a grin.
"My name is Colsen," she insisted. "I'm not married."
"Good God, Tom, what is this all about?" my father protested. "She's
not ten years old and she talks like that."
"I'm ten," Alice insisted, "since last week."
"But . . ." Dad began to say.
"Who are you people?" a blowzy woman demanded loudly, coming suddenly to
the door.
She seemed to be not entirely sober, although it was just one in the
afternoon.
"Are you aliens like this one?" she asked with a slurred voice, nodding
at Alice. "Are you from the UFO?"
"I'm sorry ma'am," my father stuttered. "I would like to introduce
ourselves."
"No need for that. I know you. You have green slime instead of blood
just like this creature here who was my daughter before you took her over."
She spat on Dad's shoe.
"Get out of here, all of you!" the woman shrieked and push the three of
us onto the stoop and slammed the door.
"This is one of her better days," Alice said with disgust. "Can we go
now?"
"Go?" my father asked in surprise.
"Yes, Dad. We're taking her with us. She can't stay here.
"But Tom, how can I manage this? And besides it's kidnapping."
"Dad, let's get into the car and drive away from here. We'll work
something out."
Despite my soprano voice and pretty, twelve year old body, he knew I was
old enough to be his father and was more accomplished than he. I felt
sorry for the man as we walked towards the car, a pre-war Studebaker. He
appeared to feel utterly defeated and useless.
"We need you, Dad," I said truthfully. "You're very important to us."
"You are aliens," he said somberly as he opened the car door, "just as
that woman insisted."
"You know that's not so, Dad," I responded weakly, weary of the
argument.
Alice and I got into the back seat of the car and my father pulled away
from the curb.
* * *
"You're not what I remember," I said to the young girl sitting next to
me.
"I'm the same person, Tom, as you well know. But aren't our bodies so
delightfully different?"
Alice snuggled close to me and offered her face for a kiss. It was an
adult kiss, the kind that an old, loving couple would exchange while they
remembered their youth.
"I never touched you, Alice, for all those years," I sighed into her
ear. "I loved you when you were a dumpy, old woman, and you loved me, but
we never kissed."
"I would have pushed you away, had you tried. and I would have been
disappointed in you. We both had lovely marriages."
"But we're dead now, in Purgatory, and we can realize our fantasies."
"We're hardly dead, Thomas. And you now have a chance to relive in a
different way your experience with that girl who has always nagged your
mind."
"You mean Sara. I've already seen her, but Ritchie excites me more."
"Ritchie?"
"Yes. My buddy since kindergarten. I never appreciated how beautiful
he was, until I saw him with the eyes of an old man."
"Tommy, you had better restrain yourself. You could get into trouble."
"How? For having sex with a twelve year old, when I'm twelve myself?"
"What I mean, Professor Horger, is that you could get into trouble with
me. I died for you."
Alice gazed at me ominously and I averted my eyes, a wave of shame
overwhelming me.
"You're behaving like a little boy," she admonished me. "You're
thinking only about sex, when we have a world to conquer."
"Most world conquerors have had a hearty sexual appetite," I suggested
with a kiss to her soft cheek.
"I'm your woman, Tom. I'll bear your children. I know you'll fool
around a bit in your youth, and maybe I will too. But never forget that
you belong to me."
* * *
It was dark when we reached Coldwater Lake in Michigan. Dad was
exhausted. He had refused to let me or Alice drive, although we knew cars
better than he.
"You're just kids," he barked, when we offered to relieve him.
The man refused to acknowledge the reality of the situation, although he
nevertheless accepted it in some peculiar way. The two kids in the back
seat, who snuggled, giggled and kissed each other across the state of
Indiana, he knew, were older than he. His ambivalence became clearly
apparent, when we settled into the cottage and he assigned sleeping
arrangements.
"Alice and I will have the two bedrooms, Tommy. You'll have to sleep on
the couch."
"I'll sleep with Alice," I replied with determination.
"You can't sleep with a girl!" he protested, his face becoming
dangerously inflamed.
"I want Tom to sleep with me," Alice declared. "We've been wanting to
do it for the past twenty five years."
"But you're just a child!" Dad exclaimed.
`I'm a virgin child, that true, but I'm older than you, and I want Tommy
tonight."
The exasperated man shook his head and turned to go to his room.
"You're weird people," he mumbled before he closed the door behind him.
* * *
Alice seemed a bit skittish, when we were alone in the bedroom.
"Are you shy about revealing you body?" I asked.
"No, of course not, not this one. But I would never have let you see my
old one. It was a shambles."
"Then why are you so nervous?"
"Well," she hesitated for a moment, "I really don't want to do it
tonight, although I know that's what you expected."
"I anticipated it, Alice, but I never expected it."
"I'll sleep with you naked, Tommy, but I afraid of the hurt, if you fuck
me. The first time I lost my virginity was very traumatic.
"We'll work up to it over the next days or weeks, whatever it takes," I
replied, secretly disappointed.
"That's so sweet of you, darling," she said and leaned herself against
me. "It was just ghastly that other time with the football player, I don't
remember his name. I was fifteen and he was a senior. He had an enormous
cock and didn't know how to use it properly."
"Well," I replied, "I have a smallish cock and I do know how to use it,
although I won't tonight."
"I'm not sexually attractive, am I, Tommy?"
"You're a flat chested ten year old, Alice, although you have a fine
looking body otherwise. You're like Chinese vegetables; not entirely
cooked. May I undress you?"
"Yes, of course. I'd like that. We'll have pleasure tonight, although
my body is too immature to feel the big ones."
"I'll give you a big one, before too very long," I promised as I pulled
off her shirt.
Her chest was as flat as a boy's. She was not skinny. She had some
heft. But Ritchie had more tit than she. When I had the girl completely
undressed and lying on the bed, she looked quite lovely. Despite her
immature chest, the rest of her was arousing. her well-formed legs
especially.
I undressed as she lay on the bed gazing at me with an expectant look on
her face.
"You're beautiful, Tommy. Am I a pervert to acknowledge it? You're
only twelve years old."
"And you're just ten," I replied and laid on the bed beside her.
Alice fell upon me and kissed my face desperately.
"Let's go all the way tonight, Tommy. Why put it off?"
"I want to lick on you first."
"No, Tommy. Do it now." She pulled on my body.
I came between her youthful thighs and positioned my cock. Alice's
nostrils flared in excitement.
"Do it!" she urged me.
I pushed at her but did not break through. I jammed her and she cried
out, but I did not rip the girl. With a violent thrust I penetrated her
and she screamed in pain. I quickly withdrew and lay beside her as she
sobbed on my shoulder, kissing and licking me all the while.
"Thank God that's over," she murmured.
"I'm sorry, Alice," I said lamely
"You had to do it Tom, and I'll remember you forever."
"Perhaps even my name?" I asked playfully.
"I'll have your name into my old age," she mumbled as she kissed down my
body toward my throbbing cock.
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