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Message-ID: <49592asstr$1098825004@assm.asstr-mirror.org>
From: "Gina Marie Wylie" <gmwylie98260@hotmail.com>
Subject: {ASSM} Spitfire and Messerschmitt Ch 19 {Gina Marie Wylie) (Teen, mf, cons)
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Date: Tue, 26 Oct 2004 17:10:04 -0400
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<1st attachment, "Davey Ch 19.doc" begin>

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

	The following is fiction of an adult nature.  If I believed in
setting age limits for things, you'd have to be eighteen to read
this and I'd never have bothered to write it.  IMHO, if you can
read and enjoy, then you're old enough to read and enjoy.

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

	All persons here depicted are figments of my imagination and any
resemblance to persons living or dead is strictly a blunder on my
part.

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

	Official stuff:  Story codes: teen, mf, cons.

	If stories like this offend you, you will offend ME if you read
further and complain. Copyright 2004, by Gina Marie Wylie. 

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

	I can be reached at gmwylie98260@hothothotmail.com, at least if
you remove some of the hots.  All comments and reasoned
discussion welcome.

Below is my site on ASSTR:
http://www.asstr-mirror.org/files/Authors/Gina_Marie_Wylie/www/

My stories are also posted on StoriesOnline:
http://Storiesonline.net/

And on Electronic Wilderness Publishing:
http://www.ewpub.org/

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Spitfire and Messerschmitt

Chapter 19 :: Repairs and Rearrangements

I met Mercedes after school at her locker.  We then rushed out to
the parking lot to Wanda's car.  Emily was already there, and in
short order we were home.

"I understand," Wanda told me, "that a repair guy will be here in
an hour or so?"

"That's what Dad said," I told her.

"Emily, do you need to do any library work?" Wanda asked.

Emily shook her head.  "Well, I do.  Then we'll check out how
Pammie and Karen are doing, studying."  Wanda smiled at me. 
"Later, brother!"

I turned to Mercedes and she laughed.  "Can you hear someone at
the front door from your room?"

"You bet," I told her.

A few seconds later, she was in my arms and we were kissing like
there was no tomorrow and not much of today left.  When the
doorbell eventually rang, I was not in any condition to answer
it.

I picked up my Spanish book and carried it to the front door,
holding it a little low to obscure the evidence that I'd rather
have been naked in bed with Mercedes.

The repairman was a guy in his thirties who just loved to talk. 
"Can't imagine what can be wrong," he told me.  "I helped install
the unit.  These are super-reliable.  It usually takes ten,
fifteen years before one breaks down."

"It wouldn't come on," I told him.

I showed him the breakers; he flipped the ones labeled for the
furnace blower and heat pump.  I followed him outside and saw him
test the power.  "You shut it off," I told him.

He smiled at me like I was a stupid moron.  "I flipped breakers,
yeah."  He waved at the guts of the heat pump, now visible since
he'd taken one of the side panels off.  "You know what happens if
the power's on anyway and I ground myself?"

I swallowed.  "Oh.  Sorry."

He grinned.  "My father trained me; my wife expects me home later
tonight so I can read Tik-Tok of Oz to my four-year-old son. 
Let's just say, getting electrocuted would ruin a lot of my plans
for the evening.  Never take anything for granted."

I started to say that my dad felt the same way about guns, but
decided that the only person unclear on the subject of safety was
me.

He fiddled around a bit and then went inside.

I followed along, curious.  He popped open the fan unit and
pulled out one of the filters.  He held it up and I could see it
was thickly matted with crap.  "What part of 'clean the filters
every month' didn't you folks understand?"

I cleared my throat.  "I don't want to criticize whoever
installed this, but the fact is they didn't make it clear to
either my father or mother... or I'd have been told to deal with
it.  I wasn't."

"The fan senses the filters are clogged; it pops a breaker in the
heat pump.  Without that, one day the house would burn down when
the fan smoked because it couldn't pull any air through the
filters."

"Could you show me what I'm supposed to do about the filters? 
What do I have to do to clean them?"

It wasn't hard.  The filters weren't like fiberglass ones that
you tossed; they were stainless steel that you ran through the
dishwasher.  Except, they had to be cleaned first, or they'd have
screwed up the dishwasher.  Stolidly I listened to the lecture. 
Finally, the unit was running again, blowing cool, dry air into
the house.

I signed the bill and he vanished.  It was, I saw, nearly five
o'clock.

I went into my room where Mercedes was busy doing some algebra. 
"That took a while," she said quietly.

"In all of my life I've never caught my father screwing up," I
told her.  "Today he screwed up.  Pardon me if I cherish it, if I
want to do a little happy dance..."

She grinned.  "I'd rather you save the last for me."

"Chuck Bradshaw told me today after practice that he and Jack,
Pammie and Wanda are going to the dance after the game Friday and
that I was expected to come."

"I assume that means, bring your friends?"

"Right now, I'm assuming nothing.  However, Chuck did say to
bring my friends."

Mercedes dropped her hands by her sides and looked down at her
right hand.  "Funny, isn't it?  I always assumed jocks were
knuckle-dragging Neanderthals.  Yet, now I'm a jock.  My knuckles
are two feet off the ground."

"You are a little low slung," I said, keeping my voice mild.

Gosh, Mercedes is strong!  The next thing I knew, I was flat on
my back on the bed, a Spitfire tickling me.  But, oh boy!  Was I
ever stirred!

After it was clear who was firm and who was firmly on top, she
let go.  "We need to work."

"Yeah." I was a little sour.  I kept contemplating the odds of no
one being home for a while.  I could just leave the door closed
and Mercedes and I could go do what I was pretty sure we both
wanted a great deal.

Still, she got up and I got up with her.  We went out to the
family room and sat snuggled together reading our biology
assignment, then talking about it.  At six, her mother knocked on
the door and I went back to my room and sat down on the bed after
Mercedes was gone.  I picked up her bra and ran my fingers over
the cups.  I sighed.

Wanda laughed from the door.  "Not getting enough?"

I shrugged.  "Is there such thing a thing as getting enough?"

She laughed.  "Little brother, you have me there.  Mom called me
a while ago and said if the air-conditioning was still on the
blink, we could go out to eat.  Otherwise, I was to fix
something."

"Okay," I told her.  "It works.  Oh, and you're not going to
believe it.  They told Dad the filters had to be cleaned once a
month... and I guess he forgot.  They were plugged solid."

Wanda walked over and knelt down in front of me.  I'm sad to say,
I was suddenly hoping she wanted to go down on me.

"Little brother, Dad told me to do it.  Since you clean the pool,
he told me, I could clean the filters.  I forgot all about it. 
If you tell him..."

"How can I not tell him?  I watched the guy find the problem, he
talked to me about what had to be done; and then I signed the
bill.  Dad is going to ask what was wrong."

"Please," she pleaded.

It was clear what she wanted.  I was supposed to lie about it.  I
didn't know how that was possible and I wasn't sure I wanted to.
Of course, it was my sister Wanda.  She picked up my hesitation
almost as fast as I did.

"I guess I don't deserve it, do I?"

"Wanda, two weeks ago I'd have laughed in your face.  Today, I'm
not laughing."

"And I don't even have the guts to come out and ask you to lie
for me.  Dad will ground me for sure; no pool party, none of
that."

"It's getting a little late in the year for a pool party," I said
mildly.

"Weekend after next," she told me.  "That's what we agreed."

"We did."

It was odd; Wanda and I had never really done favors for each
other.  The first time she'd asked one of me she'd thrown in
herself as part of the bargain.  Why had she done that?  Because
she didn't think I would agree otherwise.  Would I have agreed
without the offer of sex with her?  I sighed again.  Probably
not.

"Thanks, Davey," she said and stood up.

I reached out and grabbed her hand before she could turn and go.
I tugged, and she looked at my lap.

"Little brother, I'll mush you flat."

"Then I will be a mushed-flat little brother.  Sit, woman!"

She sat.  It wasn't as bad as all that, not really.  I put my
arms around her and looked at her steadily.

"Mom was right about something," I told her.

"Mom usually is," she agreed.

"She told me that making love to someone more than once or twice
takes it out of the casual category and leads to something more.
I love you, Wanda."

"Tell me it's not the 'I want you to be my wife', type of love,"
she said, looking concerned.

"No, not that.  But the kind of love that's not going to go away
tomorrow or next week.  Or next year.  The forever kind of
love."

She wrapped her arms around my neck and leaned close and hugged
me.  No kissing, just a straight hug.

"That means a lot to me, Davey."

"So, I don't know what I can do -- but I will try to do
something."

"You can't lie worth a damn, Davey.  Don't get yourself in
trouble because of me."

"If I get in trouble, I get in trouble.  It's my choice, Wanda. 
You asked, I'm agreeing.  Okay?"

"The first chance I get, I'm gonna fuck your socks off!"

I shook my head.  "This isn't because of that.  You're welcome to
fuck my socks or shirt, or whatever off, anytime, just about. 
But I'm doing this because I want to help you, my sister."

She hugged me tighter for a couple of minutes.

She finally let go and smiled at me.  "So, what do you want to
have for dinner, Davey?"

"You?" I said, laughing.

"No... food."

"Steak, corn on the cob, some biscuits and salad," I told her,
mostly kidding.

"Coming up!"

She bounced up and went out the door.  I was a little slower
getting up, because while she didn't seem to weigh a lot sitting
on my lap, when she'd bounced up, that had hurt.

I spent some time online looking up things like PCR, the
polymerase chain reaction.  Wanda had set up the computer, so it
reminded me I had an email.  I don't get many, but I remembered
I'd forwarded Shellie's drawing to my hotmail account, so I
opened it up and printed it.

Emily came and fetched me for dinner.  I was a little surprised.
It was steak, corn on the cob, biscuits and salad.  Of course,
they'd all been frozen or in the fridge a while before, but I
could tell she was trying to be nice.

I showed Wanda and Emily Shellie's drawing.  They both laughed at
it.  Plus, it turned out that Wanda had had Mrs. Saunders too and
thought it was really cool.  She wanted a copy for herself, so I
told her I'd forward her a copy.

Dad came home a little later, ahead of Mom for a change.

I fetched the repair ticket and handed it to him.  "What was the
problem?"  He asked.

"There's a circuit breaker inside the unit that had popped," I
told him.

He looked at me for a time then nodded.  "I'm glad it was that
simple.  I don't suppose you remember where that breaker is?"

I shook my head.  "He told me that you have to be sure the power
is off.  Or you fry."

"Just pull the breakers," Dad told me.

"He had a little tester thing to be sure," I told him.

Dad nodded, "Good habits keep you from making bad mistakes;
sometimes you forget.  He's right to check."

He turned to Wanda.  "Is that steak I smell?"

"Yes, sir."

I winced.  Gosh Wanda, you haven't called him "sir" for a couple
of years.  He's going to connect the dots.

"I take it from your response that I should fend for myself."

"I'll get the steak out to thaw," she told him.

They went into the kitchen and I smiled wanly at Emily.  Emily,
though, knew none of the byplay.  "Can we go over more of the
algebra?"

"Sure," I told her.  "Later, though, I need to do some research
on the computer."

She nodded and we cleared off our dishes and went and studied.

Much later, tired and mildly frustrated, not to mention horny, I
sat in my bed again, looking at Mercedes' bra.

My next conscious thought was that I had a really painful
erection.  Then I realized that my painful erection was in
someplace very pleasant.  I opened my eyes and saw Wanda sitting
astraddle my midsection, a pleased expression on her face.

She giggled when she saw my eyes were open.  "Davey, did you know
I've come twice, even though you are flying on autopilot?"

I looked down at where my cock was buried inside her; there
certainly seemed to be a lot of lubrication there.  She squirmed
and undulated and I groaned in pleasure.  She did it again, and I
surged up, pushing deep into her.  She lifted her head, her eyes
closed, as I hit the spot.

For the next few seconds the sounds were a little vulgar, a lot
of sucking and slurping, but they didn't bother me.  Or Wanda. 
"Take off your shirt," I murmured, as I started moving faster and
faster.

She reached down and pulled it up and off, tossing it across the
room.  Her breasts never failed to amaze me; maybe I like smaller
ones better, but there was nothing wrong with watching Wanda's
breast bounce and jiggle as we made love.  I reached out and
cupped them both, chafing her nipples to hardness with my palms.

I was getting close and Wanda knew it.  The grin on her face grew
positively wicked.  Without warning she stopped and I felt her
muscles tighten around my cock, squeezing.  I'd seen words like
"in a vise" used to describe it; Wanda wasn't anything like that.
 But she surely squeezed out every bit of cum I had in me; I shot
like I'd never shot before.

She squirmed and I popped out of her, still leaking fluid.  Wanda
nestled in the crook of my arm, and looked up at me grinning.

"I do believe you've been practicing!" she told me.

"A little, not as much as I'd like."

"You hear about the dance tomorrow?"

"Yes, I did.  What's up?"

"Peckers, I hope!" Wanda laughed at her own joke.

"At school?"

"Pammie and Karen aren't supposed to stay long.  That whole
Southern Baptist dance thing.  Her parents think as long as she
and Karen stay with a group, there won't be any hanky-panky going
on."

"Well, if Chuck and Jack are along, I don't imagine there will
be," I said to my sister.

Wanda grinned, then leaned over and pressed her breasts into my
chest, her arms going around my shoulders.  I looked into her
eyes and felt something very different from the usual twinge I
get between my legs, looking at a naked girl.

"What?" Wanda asked, curious about my change of expression.

"I really did fall in love with you."

She rubbed her breasts against my chest.  "You can be in as much
love with me as you want, just so long as you know that no one is
going to get in the way of my plans.  No one."

"Two weeks ago, I didn't care a bit about your plans.  Now I do.
And like yesterday, I'll do what I can to help."

There was a soft knock on my door and Wanda spoke up, "It's
open!"

Emily peeked in.  I wanted to kick Wanda.  I was still oozing; I
expected she was too.  Something Emily didn't want to see, I
thought.

"Is it safe to swim?"  Emily asked.  "I don't see the chemical
box."

Wanda looked at my clock and said it had been long enough.  Emily
smiled and pulled the door shut.

"Is it a good idea to ask her to come in when we're like this?" 
I asked.

Wanda kissed me on the cheek.  "You know I sleep with her, she
knows I sleep with you.  She knows I'm going to the dance Friday
with Jack and you're going with Mercedes.  She knows I care about
her a great deal, but she knows she doesn't have an exclusive
claim on me.  No one does."

Wanda kissed me again, this time a toe-curling kiss that left me
trying to get her into position to go again.  She laughed because
it was a futile struggle.  She didn't want to, and I was all but
powerless to move her.  "Davey, the last couple of days Emily has
been talking about this guy from school.  Rob.  He wants her to
be in the movies or something."

"Rob Oliver, he's on the baseball team."

"Good!  They're talking, right?"

"Yes, more with him than with anyone else except you and me."

"Perfect!  I need a shower, I stink."  With that, she was gone. 
The last thing I saw was her blonde ponytail bouncing as she all
but bounced herself across my room and out the door.

I swam like normal again, while Emily sat on the side and
watched.  When I finished, I sat next to her.  "Wanda, sometimes,
gets these odd ideas.  I'm sorry about this morning," I
explained.

"I knew where she was," Emily told me.  "I waited for a few
minutes after the bed stopped squeaking before I knocked."  She
had a mischievous grin on her face when she said that.

"I have trouble understanding it," I explained, "I don't want to
make you uncomfortable."

"Davey, you aren't.  Wanda does a little, sometimes, but that's
okay too.  The other day she took me to a cheerleader practice. 
Watching them... I had no idea that what they did was so hard,
took so much practice.  She's trying to help me fit in; it's
hard, because I don't really fit in with hardly anyone."

"You do just fine," I told her.  "You had some shitty things
happen to you; when I see you smile like you are right now, I'm
happy for you.  It's what a person should have in life."

"Even if the person doesn't have a clue what she wants?"

"You'll figure it out one day," I assured her.  "I know you will.
 I might even be able to figure out what I want, too."

I rinsed off and spent more time on the computer studying the
polymerase chain reaction.  It sounded elegant enough, but one
site had a long 'debugging' section, and another site had
pictures of PCR done wrong.  I couldn't see anything that was
going to be useful for our project, but then, I wasn't the
expert.  Just the wannabe expert.




We weren't as early as we'd been on Wednesday, but we were still
early.  I sat down next to Mercedes.  I might not have thought
much about her hair, but Mercedes had; I watched her braid her
hair for the next twenty minutes, while we talked.  Mostly the
topic was the algebra quiz that was coming up, but some on the
science fair project as well.

Emily also watched Mercedes and when Mercedes eventually
finished, Emily asked her if she'd show her how to do it. 
Emily's hair wasn't nearly as long as Mercedes and Mercedes said
she'd do it at lunch.

Algebra wasn't as bad as I'd feared.  I was pretty sure we were
going to have to derive the general equation for calculating the
slope of an equation -- and that was partially right.  There
were, though, a half dozen simple algebraic equations we had to
either simplify or expand.  I saw a grin on Mercedes' face, Emily
looked confident, Shellie and Karen didn't have much expression
on their faces but I got the impression both of them thought
they'd done okay.

After English, on the way to our Office class, Shellie pulled me
off to the side.  "Did you send my drawing to anyone?"

"I showed it to my sister last night, she thought it was cool and
wanted a copy, so I sent it to her," I explained.

"Somebody sent it to all of the mailboxes at school today,"
Shellie said, her face very pale.

I grimaced.  "I didn't tell her not to send it to anyone, but I
don't think she'd send it to everyone."

"Someone did.  If I get caught..."  Her eyes were large and
round.  A little puffy too, as if she'd been crying.

"I'm sorry, Shellie.  I won't ever do it again.  What can I do?"

She shrugged. "I didn't sign it with my real name.  Just if
someone asks, you don't know who drew it, okay?"

"What can they do to you?" I asked, clueless.

"I don't know about the school, but they would tell my mother. 
And she would ground me and worse.  Take away my computer. 
Davey, please.  I don't think I could live any more without my
computer.  It's my window on the world."

I was impressed by her last sentence.  In some ways, Shellie
reminded me of an onion.  There was always another layer
underneath the one you were looking at it.  Only, unlike onions,
her layers were wildly different.

"What are study mates for?" I stated firmly, to reassure her. 
"We take care of each other.  I won't tell anyone, and if you get
in trouble, I'll help out.  You can come over and study at my
house.  I have a computer, Wanda has a computer, my parents have
computers... there's almost always one not being used."

"Do you have a DVD drive?  Can you write them?"

I blinked, and then laughed.  "Hey, are you a computer hacker?"

She shook her head; Shellie wasn't amused.  "No, I just do a lot
of drawing.  Can I give you a backup of my stuff?  It's on two
DVD's.  Promise me you won't show them to anyone?"

"I promise.  Sure, I'll keep it safe.  Wanda has a drive thingie
that plays movies, but I don't."

We sat down in class.  I expected Mrs. Saunders to say something,
but she didn't.  In fact, she was as boring as usual.  Of course,
that meant I had time to work on Algebra and English.

When we got to lunch, there were some changes.  Fesselhof was
sitting by himself at our table.  I looked around and saw Karen
half way across the cafeteria, waving at us.  I led Shellie over,
leaving Fesselhof with a nasty scowl on his face.

Today the seating was different.  Emily and Mercedes were sitting
on one side, with Rob still next to Emily, while Karen was
sitting on one side of the other bench.  I sat down next to her
and Shellie sat down in the remaining spot.

"The asshole was at our table," Mercedes said, her fingers busy
with Emily's hair.  "I decided not to push his face in again."

"We need to ease up," I told her.

"I'd rather slug him," Mercedes said darkly.  "This table is
awful."  It was on a traffic path, there was a steady stream of
people walking past; quite a few of whom stared at Mercedes and
Emily.

Rob laughed.  "I used to sit two tables over, with the other guys
on the baseball team.  It's not that bad."

"I guess."  Mercedes sounded unconvinced.

"Speaking of guessing," I asked everyone, "how did you all do on
the Algebra quiz?"

There was a chorus of "okays;" I felt good about what I'd done
too.  "We should study tonight, if we can," I told them.  "I know
we don't have a quiz or test coming, but I want to make sure
everyone is caught up."

"I am," Emily told me.  "But I don't mind more review."

Karen shrugged.  "Algebra isn't my thing.  But, I think I did
okay on the quiz.  If you guys want to study, I'll be glad to get
out of my uncle's house.  Any excuse is a good excuse."

"I'd like to," Shellie told me.

I looked at Mercedes and she laughed.  "Oh yeah!  I like it!"

That afternoon in geography, Colonel Terrell talked about how
people had come west.  We learned a lot about how fast a man
could walk, how fast a horse could walk with a rider, how far a
wagon could travel in a day.  It was a little scary thinking
about what it must have been like in those days, to take
everything you owned, put it in a wagon and head west.  Two
thousand miles was something you could cover in a car in a few
days.  For those people it was at least four months and if they
were unlucky, much longer.  A lot of people died along the way.

At the start of PE, I sought out Jack.  "Did Wanda send you a
cartoon?"

He laughed.  "Yeah!  I hated that woman!  She was on my case
practically every day; I kept falling asleep."

"Did you send it to anyone?"

He looked at me and nodded.  "A couple of guys I know.  Why?"

"Could you email them sometime and tell them not to send it to
anyone else?  They're looking for whoever drew it."

"That bites!  I never thought about it."  He paused, frowning. 
"I can't believe any of the guys I sent it to would give it to a
teacher."

"Someone did.  They sent it to everyone at school."

"I'll ask around."

Mercedes came up and smiled at me.  "We were talking about that
cartoon of Mrs. Saunders," I told her.

"Yeah, someone blind copied everyone in school.  My guess is they
should be looking at everyone who got an 'F' in her class,"
Mercedes contributed.

Jack laughed.  "Half the football team, the first grading period,
two years ago.  She was so boring!  Then we got our shit together
and managed to pull out the semester grade.  Now, we make it a
point to find out who's in her class and keep their head above
water."

Coach Delgado worked with me a little about throwing curveballs;
Coach Neville spent a lot of time with me going over how to bunt,
how to stand at the plate and pull the ball.

Coach Neville went out on the mound and pitched to me.  I wasn't
sure what the point was, until his first pitch went right down
the middle of the plate and all I did was stand there with my
mouth open.  Gosh, that had been a fast pitch!

He rolled off four more pitches, curves, sliders, changeups.  I
could make contact with most of them, but invariably the ball
would be foul.

"Just to keep you humble," he said, later.  "Not many high school
pitchers are as good as I am, but some of them are."

"Gosh, sir!  You should be playing ball, not coaching!"

He looked at me and shook his head.  "Baseball didn't used to be
a sport where there were very many injuries.  These days though,
you play at 110% all of the time.  I messed up my ACL.  I can
walk okay, but I can't run.  I have to be careful how I pitch
too, I have to land just right when I put my right leg down.  Or
I fall on my face."

I felt an inch high.  I was getting a lot of that.

"Davey, let me tell you, I thought I was going to die when the
doctor told me I was done playing.  But I come out here and help
you guys... you just have no idea what that feels like.  None. 
It's the greatest feeling in the world, watching young men come
along.  Learning the lessons, some of them pretty hard, then go
on and do well."

"And the guys like Fesselhof?"

He nodded sagely.  "There are always people like that, Davey! 
Some can't be helped; others won't be helped.  Never let someone
like that get under your skin if you can help it.  They do, but
you have to be tough!  Don't do anything stupid!"

The period ended a little short and we ran through a line of a
half dozen women who took our measurements, then we were handed
our new uniforms and they checked the fit.  They really did look
nice and everyone seemed pleased and enthusiastic, even listening
to Coach warn us about how we were to take good care of them.

Then the showers and off to Spanish, then home with my friends,
studying.

Much later, after everyone had left and we he had finished
dinner, I had time to buttonhole Wanda.  "How many people did you
send the cartoon to?"

She grimaced.  "At least one too many.  I was surprised when I
got another copy back from someone I didn't even know.  I have
four copies now, counting the one that was copied to everyone at
school."

"And if anyone comes back to ask you about where you got it?"

"Got what?  I get a lot of Internet humor.  I thought it was
funny and sent it to a few people.  I trashed the original,
because it wasn't that big a thing."  She smiled archly at me,
obviously having understood what I was asking.

Was I being selfish?  I was asking my sister to lie for me, so I
didn't have to lie myself if it ever got back to me.  I wasn't
going to tell anyone who I got it from, but I knew I didn't want
to tell anyone a lie, either.

Wanda, as usual, was more pragmatic.  "Rest easy, little brother!
 They will not even drag your name from my cold, dead hands! 
Yesterday you did something for me I have no way to repay.  That
was in a league by itself.  This?  Nothing, little brother! 
Nothing!"

"The artist could get really screwed," I told her.

"It's cool, Davey!  I'm not going to tell!"

"Tell what?" Dad said, appearing from the living room.

Wanda laughed, "That would be telling!"

Dad smiled at her.  "Two things.  I've penciled in a note on the
calendar in the kitchen to clean the air filters on the first of
every month.  Whoever does it, should cross it out."

I felt like my butt was dipped in ice water.

Dad, however, kept on.  "This last concerns you, Davey.  The
Judge is going to play poker this Saturday."

I was off the hook?  I wasn't sure if I was glad or sad; I needed
the money.  On the other hand, I seriously doubted if playing
poker with Dad's friends was going to be the way.

"However, Ruy d'Silva also called yesterday to tell me that he'd
rather save for his daughter's college education.  Now and then,
he said, was okay, but as a regular thing, he politely,
gracefully declines."

He waved at the family room.  "The Judge's wife isn't up to
company, so we're going to continue meeting here for a while. 
The Chief feels it would send all sorts of wrong messages were he
to hold it at his office; he's single and lives in a small
apartment so he can't host it there, either.   Willy and his
friends are in apartments, too.

"So, it's up to you if you want to play.  There are always people
who want to play."

I thought about it.  They were good players, Frau Kimmel had been
okay, but had a weakness when it came to someone my age.  Even if
she returned, I doubted if she would make the same mistake twice.
 And I'd had a really good night, luck-wise.  Why should I assume
that I would continue to have good luck?  Couldn't it just as
easily turn bad?

Wanda spoke up, well-intentioned, but making it harder.  "We're
going to see Triple-X Saturday night, Davey.  You and Mercedes
would be welcome to join the rest of us.  Emily, Pammie, Karen,
Jack and Chuck."

A few seconds later, I realized I was dithering, unable to make
up my mind one way or the other.  "Once more," I told Dad.  "It's
not that I don't want to, but I am trying to save money."

He walked over and stuck out his hand.  Mystified, I shook his
hand.  "You, Davey, have learned something of inestimable
importance.  Playing poker like we do is recreation, like going
to the movies.  Sure, there's the possibility of big jackpot, but
mostly you will find yourself even or a little down.   You are,
Davey, welcome anytime.  It's up to you."

I nodded, and after a bit I settled down with Wizenbeak.  The
story was winding down, the final bit of the plot fairly clear. 
I finished the story and smiled at the last sentence of the book.
 "They lived in interesting times ever after."

That certainly described my life!

<1st attachment end>


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