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Message-ID: <50719asstr$1110942603@assm.asstr-mirror.org>
From: "Gina Marie Wylie" <gmwylie98260@hotmail.com>
Subject: {ASSM} Spitfire and Messerschmitt Ch 28 {Gina Marie Wylie} (teen, mf, mff, cons)
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Date: Tue, 15 Mar 2005 22:10:03 -0500
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<1st attachment, "Davey Ch 28.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, mff, , voy, 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 28 -- Busy Saturday

Mornings, what can you say about mornings in our house?  My first
sensation was warm lips on my morning hard-on.  I couldn't stop
my lips from twitching with a smile!  Oh yeah!

Wanda was using her tongue, her hand, and her lips... a
full-court press.  How much of an idea did Dad have about Woman
C?  Wild, wonderful, and orally very skillful Wanda?  I just lay
back, enjoying every second.  Wanda seemed a little impatient;
usually she didn't make sounds that I took as impatience.  I
reflected on yesterday, and teasing Mercedes.  What a cool idea!
It would not hurt my male ego a bit to have Mercedes or Wanda
whimpering and moaning, begging me to hurry!

However, there was a limit to such things, as I'd also learned. 
Wanda found the right combination and I started coming.  I sighed
in pleasure and lifted up, opened my eyes as I started to thank
her.

Pammie spoke, a little crossly.  "I thought that was going to
take all morning!  Jeez!  You'd think you'd be eager as hell!"

I stared at her, stunned.  Beyond Pammie was Karen.  Seeing Karen
smile was a rare thing -- but now she was laughing.  "Pammie, I
told you, two girls.  Two.  He's just a little tired."

Pammie sucked hard on my shrinking erection and let it pop out of
her mouth -- a very vulgar sound.  She looked at me and then
frowned.

"You thought I was Wanda."  It wasn't a question.

I was a little sleepy, still coming down from a hormone high.  "I
thought you were pretty good."

"I always wondered why Loreena Bobbit slept with a knife in the
headboard of her bed.  There's a lot to be said for quick
response."

"And a lot to be said for taking your time and not making
mistakes."

Pammie turned to Karen.  "You will please note, that in spite of
his bravado and bullshit, he's starting to get hard again."

I laughed and she frowned.  "That would be because Wanda's
standing outside on the patio, nude."

My sister was outside, standing by the door leading out to the
pool.  Wanda slid the door open and came in.  "Nothing like
getting nekkid in the early morning to put a little spring in
your step!"

She waved at my midsection, "Although I don't think you were
trying to put some spring into Davey's step.  Elsewhere,
though..."  Wanda smiled, Karen smiled and Pammie frowned.

"You got Jack, you got Davey.  It would be nice to have a guy
knocking on my door, if you know what I mean."

"Pammie, everyone knows what you mean," Wanda told her.  "Right
now you are trying too hard.  You're pissing people off, which is
the opposite of what you want.  Chill, girl!  This afternoon
there are going to be two dozen guys here.  Rock solid studs,
each and every one.  Unless you have forgotten everything you
ever learned as a freshman cheerleader, that's a winning
combination."

Pammie looked down at me.  "You liked it, right?"

"Pammie, you brought me off.  That's a statement of what I
like."

"Why so long?"

"We didn't go to the game yesterday.  Last night Mercedes,
Shellie and I stayed here."

"You're really doing two girls?"  She seemed startled.

"I have two girlfriends, yes.  Pammie, if you want me to answer
people's questions about you, just keep asking me questions.  If
you expect me to keep my mouth shut, do the same."

Karen spoke up again, "Pammie, you're being silly.  Let it go. 
You have me.  Keep chasing everyone else in the universe and you
won't have anyone."

Pammie turned to Karen.  "Et tu, Brute?"

Karen smiled.  "We don't read Julius Caesar until next month.  I
have no idea what you could possibly mean."

That ended it, with Wanda and Pammie both laughing.  Even I got
the joke.  I hit the shower and a minute later hit the water.

Pammie jumped in at the same time and tried to keep up.  I just
swam steadily, pretty much ignoring her.  After two laps, Wanda
and Karen jumped in, and after another, Emily was swimming as
well.  We didn't have that big a pool; five made it a little
exciting, particularly when Pammie and Emily had a little trouble
keeping to their lanes.  I was still swimming when they all
decided that breakfast would be good.

I showered quickly and went to dress.  Pammie was lying in my
bed, nude, her legs spread.  I shook my head.  "Pammie, you are
my sister's friend.  Karen's friend.  Even Emily's friend.  My
mother likes you.  But it's not going to happen."

I turned my back on her, went into my closet and started my
chin-ups.  After a few seconds I knew Pammie was watching.  She
didn't say anything until I stood up.

"Shit."  Just that, one word.

"What?"

"Fifty chin-ups with both hands.  Twenty with each hand.  Shit."

"I've been doing them for years, Pammie.  It's no big deal."

She walked over and bumped her breasts into my chest.  "Davey, I
get the message.  You're a man of steel.  It's not going to
happen.  Let me be the first woman in your life who tells you
that she's jealous of the women who really are in your life." 
She came up, balanced herself with a hand on my arm and kissed my
cheek.  I saw there were tears in her eyes.

"What?" I asked, not understanding.

She shook her head.  "You're a guy, you'd never understand."

"So, explain and maybe I will.  Maybe not, but unless I have a
clue, you're right, I'll never understand."

"Guys, Davey.  Wanda and I are used to having our way with
whomever we want.  Jack came back from camp and blew Wanda's
mind.  Then she blew you.  Jack is so... immature.  I've my own
tastes and maybe I didn't suck up to guys the right way.  I don't
know.  All I know is that this is our senior year and the
prospects are awful.  Jack?  The Neanderthal?  Chuck?  Give him a
little jailbait pussy and that's all he can think about.  He
tried hitting on Emily last night and pissed off Rob."

She stopped talking for a second, a distant look on her face. 
"Your mother talked to me a long time last night.  I pretty much
blew her off.  Maybe she's right.  San Angelo High is pretty
small potatoes.  I'm pretty sure I'll get a scholarship to
Austin.  No small potatoes there!  She told me that's where she
met your dad.   That a lot of her friends never met a guy in high
school who was worth a shit.  Jeez... I hope she's right."

At breakfast I was stunned to learn that my family, including
Emily, plus Mercedes' parents and a couple of her brothers and
sisters, plus a whole slew of others were going to Fort Stockton
to watch the baseball game.  Even Shellie was coming with
Mercedes' family.

I blinked.  "Who's going to be getting ready for the party?"

My dad grinned.  "Friends.  Friends of friends.  Not to worry!"

A while later Wanda drove Pammie and me to school.  I was
relegated to the back seat.  I was surprised to see that they'd
brought their cheer uniforms.  "Why's that?"

"Davey, last time you guys blew the game.  Today, the
cheerleaders have agreed: win the game and we blow you."

I managed an "Urk!"  Surely she couldn't be serious?

Pammie laughed at my expression.  "And you think the football
team plays as hard as it does because we jump up and down and
yell, 'Two, four, six, eight...?'"

I shut my mouth and sat silent until we were turning into the
parking lot.  "And Mercedes?"

"We raffle the best players off after the game." Wanda said with
a laugh.

"We won?" I asked.  "I thought the game hadn't started yet."

She stopped the car, turned, and shook her head.  I've known my
sister for a long time; I know when she's busting a gut,
laughing.

A little later we were on the bus, headed for Fort Stockton.  Two
dozen ballplayers, a couple of coaches and a half-dozen
cheerleaders.  I sat next to Mercedes and after a bit I leaned
close and whispered into her ear about motivational psychology.

She grinned at me.  "We'll have to see if we can motivate octopi
like that!"

"Aren't you interested in whom?"

"Are you?"

"Sure!" I replied.

She leaned close, whispering in my ear.  "Pammie?"

I blinked, stunned.  She punched my arm.  "Been there, done that
myself, Davey.  I understand.  God, that's one persistent
woman!"

"I'm sorry," I told her.

"Apologize to Shellie, but I don't think she's going to begrudge
you either.  Davey, do you love me as much today as you did
yesterday?"

"More," I replied honestly.  I'd thought about it a lot.  More,
for sure.

"Davey, Shellie and I love you.  Love us back, and you have the
keys to the kingdom of heaven."

It's a measure of my confusion that I was worried about her being
sacrilegious.

We arrived at the high school in Fort Stockton.  I'd been there
twice before, but I'd never gotten to see the visiting locker
rooms.  They made Mercedes dress out with the cheerleaders, but
no one seemed to mind, not even Mercedes.

I was a little surprised when I heard the lineup.  Mercedes,
Jack, Chuck, and then me.  I'd known I was going to pitch the
first three innings and I was sure I was ready.

The Fort Stockton people saw Mercedes when she came to bat, and
started in on catcalls.  She slapped the first pitch over the
first baseman's head and motored into first, easily.

Jack was still Jack the Neanderthal.  Their coach went out to the
mound and the first pitch to Jack was low and away.  The second
was lower still, but more or less down the center of the plate. 
Not even Tiger Woods could have golfed that pitch!

A minute later Jack walked.  He trotted down to first, while
Mercedes went to second.  The catcalls were a little muted now
from the other dugout.

When Chuck had gotten up to go to the on deck circle, he'd
stopped in front of me.  "Jack and I are going to play poker with
you guys tonight."

I nodded, surprised.  "You can't keep your face still.  Learn to
lie," he waved at home plate.  "Come up to bat and drool like a
moron."

I only paid Chuck half a mind.  Lie?  How would that help? 
Wouldn't everyone know I was lying?  Chuck poked the first pitch
just out of the shortstop's reach.  Mercedes flew home, Jack was
on third and Chuck was on first.

Drool?

I'd done Spanish conversations; I'd done Shellie's script.  I
mentally turned off my thoughts.  I didn't drool, but I went to
the plate looking like a helpless, spineless pitcher.

Damned if it didn't work!

The pitcher served up a fastball, chest high, right down the
middle.

I smashed it as hard as I could, and sure enough, it was over the
outfield before it started to arc down... way beyond the fence. 
I hustled down to first, rounded and headed for second.  I saw
Chuck ahead of me and slowed down.  He was skipping and laughing,
having a good time.

Jack and Chuck shook my hands at home plate, and it was four to
nothing.  I had two home runs that inning, but Rob was batting
fifth and he struck out, ending our inning.

When it came time to pitch, it was the reverse.  I pecked around,
getting some foul tips, a lot of strikes.  One, two, three and
they were down.  Dispiriting, I was sure, going down in order,
when you're losing eleven to zero.

I got to bat in the second inning as well, but it wasn't very
pretty.  The first two pitches were well inside and low.  The
third was waist high, but I had to move or I'd have been hit. 
Instead, the ball hit my bat and the ball started down the first
base line, not going very fast but fair.  I sprinted towards
first, making sure I stayed well away from the ball.  I kept
expecting to see the ball fly past me, but it never did. 
Instead, I'd just touched the bag when it hit me in the back,
just below my left shoulder blade.

Coach Wells was up in a millisecond, hollering at the umpire,
saying that the ball had been thrown deliberately to hit me.  
Me, I was standing on first, trying hard to rub the afflicted
area on my back.

I have no idea about the arcana of baseball rules; eventually
Coach Wells went and sat down and I stayed where I was.  Then Rob
hit a grounder up the middle, their second baseman grabbed it,
stepped on second base, shot it over to first and I had to dive
to miss being hit a second time.

I simply picked myself up and dusted myself off and went to the
bench.  Coach Wells came over.  "I'm going to pull you."

"Once before I objected.  This time, sir, it's personal.  Let me
pitch to the first batter.  Then, sir, I will shut up... I
promise."

"If you hit him, there's not a god-damn thing I can do to save
your ass."

I looked at him in distaste.  Weren't we supposed to look up to
our coaches?  Coach Wells didn't, in my opinion, do a very good
job.

"Coach, they might play the game that way; you might play the
game that way.  But when I want to intimidate someone, I play it
another way."

"One batter.  For Christ sake's, Harper, don't hit the fucker!"

I just got up and headed for the mound.  Mercedes stepped up next
to me.  "First chance I get, I'll cream one of them!"

I laughed.  "Sweetie, my job is to cream on you.  Leave them
alone.  I have a message I want to deliver.  Don't spoil it."

Then I saw the batter and I wanted to grin.  Mr. Second Base Man.
 Better if it had been the catcher, but he would do!

"Payback's a bitch, isn't it?" I called in to him from the mound.
 His eyes went wide and I added, "Let's see how you do eating
one!"

He stepped out of the box and said something to the umpire.  The
umpire promptly came towards me.  Coach Wells and the pitching
coach came trotting out.

"Harper, you will not retaliate."

I waved at the plate.  "Have I thrown a bad pitch?"

"No, but you just said..."

"I pitch hardball," I told him.  "You get on back and get on my
case when I've done something wrong.  Besides, I'm just playing
with his head.  I'm going to dish them up, but he hasn't got the
stuff to sit at the table."

There was more jaw-jaw, but if an umpire started benching players
who talked trash, there wouldn't be much baseball.

Josh called for a curve, down low.  I shook him off.  A curve,
waist high.  I called out to him, "It's going to be an elbow high
fastball, right down the middle.  Get set!"

I wasn't really that mad, but I just sort of let my mind flow,
thinking I was really mad.  I wound up and put everything I could
on the ball.  The batter was standing as far away from the plate
as he could.  He didn't even try to swing.

The smack of the pitch hitting the catcher's mitt was loud. 
Solid and loud.  Josh was right up, throwing the ball back to
me.

"Ready to eat another?" I called, and the guy glared at me.  Josh
signed another curve ball, up and in.  "Another elbow-high
fastball coming up!" I called.  The batter got set, this time
closer to the plate, his bat doing little circles in the air.

Again I threw it as hard as I could.  The guy swung, but way, way
late.

"What, you don't like what I dish out?  Maybe you should look at
the scoreboard, eh?  Maybe you should think about how to improve
your game!  Here comes number three."

I didn't bother with a sign; Josh didn't either.  The batter
headed for the bench after another late swing.

I glanced at Coach Wells and he nodded.  There had already been
someone warming up.  I turned to the other bench and bowed.  "The
way you guys play ball is scary, but we're not afraid -- just
laughing our heads off."

I trotted off the field to hoots and hollers from my teammates.

The other day when I'd left, the team fell apart.  Today our
second pitcher got the next two batters out on strikes.

There was a conference on the mound; somehow we'd managed to
spend almost an hour on two innings.  Seventeen to nothing...
well, they had done better in the second inning.

We ended up playing four innings instead of the six planned.  I
hit only once more, then someone else got the job.  Coach Wells
put up second stringers in all of the positions except first
base.  They did a whole lot better against our second string...
when the game was called the score was twenty-five to zero.

It turned out to be they had one string left in their bow.  Coach
Wells gathered us up, before we went in to shower and change. 
"The ump has requested that Jack, Chuck, Davey and Mercedes
undergo urinalysis."

Jack was resigned, Chuck and Mercedes were furious.  I just
laughed.  "Where do I whiz?"

It was a comedy; Mercedes didn't take the test because they
didn't have anyone who could watch her pee.  I filled the bottle
and let some trickle down the sides.  It wasn't even the
millionth time I'd gotten pee on my fingers; it didn't bother me.
 I washed my hands then took my shower.

In the showers everyone was laughing and joking.  The team morale
was good and the previous issues seemed to be bygones.

When we went out to the busses, Wanda came up next to me while we
waited.  She dragged me a few feet away from everyone else. 
"Pretty good, little brother!  Five RBI's in two innings!  Five
strike outs, no walks.  Did you know Stockton only had one strike
out?"

"I wasn't paying attention."

She slammed her fist into the muscle of my arm.  "Davey, you have
to pay attention!"

I rubbed my shoulder.  "Sure, Wanda.  Whatever you say!"

"No, I'm serious.  You guys are beyond good, right now.  Stockton
is just crummy.  You will play good teams later in the year. 
Teams that are going to give you a run for your money.  Don't be
contemptuous of them."

I thought about it, decided that she was right.  "Okay," I told
her.

She looked around, and then leaned close to my ear.  "We had to
change the blow job rules."

"Why change the rules?" I asked.

"The cheerleaders give a lot of different prizes, so we can
motivate as many people on the team as we can.  Longest ball,
most hits, most RBIs, the most of this or that...  Davey you won
all of them.  If I hadn't put my foot down, every girl on the bus
would have been lined up to give you a blow job, and everyone
else would hate your guts."

I shook my head.  "Wanda, I just wanted to play, that's all. 
Little rewards like that..."  I looked at her and told her with
my eyes that I was doing just fine in that department.  I mean,
if people can read me like a book, why not use it?  It had worked
pretty well earlier.

"Well, the cheerleaders voted.  The whiz kids win.  We draw
straws.  Sometimes, for one reason or another, some of us don't
partake of the chances offered.  Doesn't happen often, Davey -- I
told them I didn't want to take a chance of winning.  Pammie told
them it was that time of the month.

"Relax, Davey."

"Wanda, I don't even like potluck dinners."

She laughed.  "You'll like this, I promise."

"And when do we get our reward?  What the hell are you going to
do for Mercedes?"

"On the bus, stupid.  Do you think it's a coincidence that Mr.
Humphries, the auto shop teacher always drives the teams?"

"I never gave a thought who drove the team bus," I told her.

"Well, I realize it's not your cup of tea, but he's young, cute
and single.  The rest you have to imagine, because my lips are
sealed."  She zipped her lips.

"Mercedes?"

"He, he!  That was a problem!  Where there's a will, there's a
way.  I was surprised at how many people were in that drawing! 
Even me!  I didn't win, though!"

"Jack and Chuck?"

She shook her head.  "Sat them out, too.  Jack's had his turn
with me, I'm pissed at Chuck."

"So we just sit on the bus, and wham, bam!  It happens?"

"Yep.  I assume you have more decorum in your little finger than
the entire football team.  You will not stand up afterwards,
punching the air while your cock oozes jism all over the
upholstery.  And you will not be grunting, 'Arf! Arf!' either."

"I think you can rest assured, there's nothing like that on my
schedule for the day."

A few minutes later, Mercedes joined us.  Wanda grinned and went
to talk to Pammie and some of the other cheerleaders.  "You
heard?" she said, whispering.

"Yes."

"Are you going to be upset?"

"Are you?"

She shook her head.  "You love me.  This is like someone sending
you a valentine.  Not that big a deal."

"Once upon a time it was my wildest fantasy.  I'm still having
trouble adjusting to it."

"So, a problem or not?"

I shook my head.  "But Shellie..."

She smiled at me, and patted my arm.  "Davey, you are a truly
nice guy.  But you're shy.  Shellie is a truly nice girl -- and
she's shy, too.  I like to think of myself as nice... but I'm not
shy.  When I'm around, things happen.  When you and Shellie are
together, you get stuck for words... and make love instead of
talking.

"Don't get me wrong, it doesn't mean you like her less than you
do me, or vice-versa.  But what it does mean is that I talk to
you and I talk to her.  Let's just say the subject of a fourth
person has come up in our conversation before last night.  Just
not in conversation with you.  Let's say also that Shellie is no
different than any other woman: if it's safe and controlled,
she's not opposed to experimentation.

"So, let's just say I've talked to her about some of the possible
benefits of school athletics and she doesn't have any problems
with them."

"I thought you were kidding last night," I told her.

"Nope!"

Then it was time to get on the bus.  Instead of sitting next to
me, as she had on the way to Fort Stockton, Mercedes went to the
back, sitting in a corner.  Directly in front of her were two of
the cheerleaders.

A tall black girl, one of two on the cheerleading squad sat down
next to me and smiled broadly.  "I hear good things about you,
Davey!"

"All lies," I told her.  "What's a cute girl like you, doing in a
place like this?"  I waved around the bus.

She laughed.  "Luck of the draw, I guess.  Wanda says there's not
a prejudiced bone in your body."

I blinked.  "No, not a one."

"Good, a lot of guys are intimidated by tall women."

"Respectful is the word," I told her, laughing at the joke. 
"Wanda has seen to it that I've grown up being respectful of the
relative distance our heads are from the ground."

She held out her hand.  "Ellie Simms, don't believe we've met."

"Davey Harper.  Can't say as we have."

"I'm a junior," she added.  "So, it's not been that long since I
too was a freshman, wondering what high school was going to be
like.  So far, it's been fun."

"I have to say, I've had my ups and downs," I told her.  "But
overall, it's been more than fun."

"You really have two girlfriends?"

"If you're really not going to tell the world.  Yes."

She laughed.  "I'll understand then, if it takes you a little
longer to come."

"I'm a teenager," I told her.  "Always ready."  Even if, inside,
I'd just as soon be sitting with Mercedes talking about IQ
testing octopi.  Which was the real me?  The wuss who was going
to let a girl I'd never met before go down on me?  Or the wuss
who'd say no?

It wasn't far to the freeway from the high school, and in a
minute we were humming down the road.  Up in the front of the
bus, some of the team started singing "Michael, Row Your Boat
Ashore," which I thought was really lame.

Ellie smiled, leaned across me, her fingers working the zipper to
my jeans.  A second later, she had my erection in her hand. 
"Well, you're right about the ready, part!"

She leaned close and put her mouth on me.

I suppose it shouldn't be a surprise that everyone does it
differently, but I was a little surprised.  Ellie used her
tongue, used a lot of suction, didn't use her hand for much but
holding on.  She was sucking so hard, her cheeks were making
contact along my length, and it was like I was inside a woman.

I don't think I lasted a minute, if that.  But I couldn't tell,
because after a few seconds, I was stone cold electrified in my
seat.  Ellie moved a bit, and suddenly I was cupping her breast
through her cheerleading blouse.  Then she really poured on the
heat and I was coming like a geyser.

My breathing returned to normal, and I was halfway able to think.
 Behind me, Mercedes shrieked; Shellie was right, we were noisy.
On the other hand, Michael Rowing his Boat sung loudly made total
sense.

I turned back to the girl in my lap; Ellie was still leaning over
me and my hand had stayed glued to her breast.  She giggled.  "I
do believe you are still ready to play!" 

With that she sat up, but left her hand on my erection, which
wasn't as rock solid as before, but was nowhere near gone.

Ellie leaned close, whispering in my ear.  "After a good game,
sometimes on the bus back, we party.  Maybe we don't have the
same partners we usually do.  Everyone understands, mostly.  Do
you understand that what happens on the bus stays on the bus?"

I nodded, tongue-tied.

She smiled and moved, straddling my lap, facing me.  She reached
between us, and a second later; she was sliding my hard-on past
the elastic band of her underwear.  An elastic band that wasn't
very tight.

It took a bit to slide deeper inside her.  She was a little
moist, but not a lot, but gosh, she was tight!  I put my arms
around her waist, pulling her tightly to me.  Mercedes?  Shellie?
 I was hopeless, I thought.  Put a willing woman on my lap and I
was helpless and hopeless.

I no longer noticed that I was on a bus with maybe forty people,
or a few less, sitting close enough to hear every moan and
thrust.  Anyone could turn and see that I had my hands on her
breasts, lifting her blouse out of the way and all knew what part
of me was buried deep inside her.

We fell into a rhythm, a little like I'd done with Mercedes the
night before.  This time neither of us was rushing, going along
at our own pace.  Her arms were around my neck, we were kissing
hard, her tongue wasn't as active as either Mercedes' or
Shellie's, but mine was busy.

We kept at it for quite a while, and then as if we both knew we
had to finish, we speeded up.  She moaned and came.  I was
surprised, Ellie had been so good with everything else, but I was
used to the girl using her vaginal muscles to keep going after
she came.  Ellie's muscles relaxed and she went from being very
tight, too a lot of extra room.  I nearly came out; I did lose
focus.

I opened my eyes, mildly frustrated.  Ellie's eyes were still
closed, she was still breathing hard.  I knew where we were, less
than ten minutes from school!  I moved and let myself slide out.
That woke her up.

"You didn't finish," she said, whispering in my ear.

"Almost there," I mumbled.

"I could tell!  But you pulled away!"

"Almost there, meaning a couple minutes from school."

She turned and looked and giggled.  "My, how time flies!"

She lifted up, rearranging her shirt, while I slid my erection
back in my pants.  What was Mercedes going to say?

I turned around, expecting to see her laughing at me.  Instead,
all I saw were two sets of feet on the seat, one set with her
toes pointing up, the other pointing down.  The one on top was
definitely Mercedes; the one on the bottom was definitely one of
the cheerleaders.  I grimaced as I let my eyes rove over the bus.
 A lot of people, any one of which could blow the whistle on
Mercedes and whoever she was with.

One of the girls on the seat in front of Mercedes turned around,
said something softly, there was a scramble of movement in the
backseat.  I didn't know the girl who'd spoken to Mercedes, but
she was laughing when she turned back to say something to the
girl sitting next to her.  Both of them looked amused, not
pissed.

I looked back at the others.  No one seemed to be upset.  What
had Wanda said?  She'd been surprised at how many volunteers
there had been to be with Mercedes?  I laughed to myself.

Ellie leaned close.  "What's funny?"

Either I hadn't laughed to myself or someone else could read my
face like an open book.  "I was thinking someone would be --
upset -- about Mercedes."

"You said it before, we're teenagers.  Horny all the time.  Happy
when we can get it... and you know, somehow the bastards who
can't deal with it don't get on the bus... don't usually get on a
team, either.  Everyone's cool."

"Jack?" I said, nodding at the front of the bus where Jack and
Wanda were sitting, still singing.  Kumbaya.  Ick!  The part
about summer camp I hated the most were the stupid songs!

We were off the freeway, and I saw the driver glance back and
smile.  I turned and Mercedes was brushing her hair, while the
girl next to her looked a little lost.  Mercedes turned to her,
patted her shoulder and said something.  The girl, a sophomore, I
thought, but not someone I knew, nodded.

People were waiting for us, including my parents and Emily and
Shellie.  One thing my father would never do was let a bus beat
him back to town.  Mercedes' parents and a couple of her brothers
and sisters had been at the game and were present as well.  She
handed them her gym bag, then she came over to where I was
standing and talking to Mom and Dad about the game, Wanda putting
in her two cents worth as well.

When we got to the car, I realized that there was a small
problem: seven people, five seats.  Dad saw my expression.  Damn!
 I was getting sick and tired of people doing that!

"A guy with two girlfriends needs to be able to figure things
out, Davey.  Like how to get two girls on your lap!"  He thought
that was hilariously funny, and Mom was shaking her head.

Shellie sat on my lap; Emily sat next to us, with Mercedes
sitting on Wanda's lap on the other side of her.

As soon as Shellie got comfortable, I got hard.  She didn't say
anything, but she pulled my arm around her waist, and for the
rest of the trip she lightly moved her bottom over my lap.  I was
nearly ready to come before we got home.  And Wanda had her arms
around Mercedes' chest, kinda high, squishing Mercedes' breasts.
Oh my!  It looked like it was going to be a pool orgy, not a
party!

We had not quite an hour before people were supposed to start
arriving.  Dad was getting his barbeque paraphernalia ready,
checking the meat and all of that.  And, for the first time in my
life, I realized that Mom's perpetual quest for a neat house had
paid off -- there wasn't that much to get ready.  Chips and dips,
an ice chest filled with drinks and ice.

Pammie and Karen showed up early, and they too pitched right in
to help.  In the next few minutes I made a point of thanking them
both.  I also thanked Emily, Shellie and Mercedes, who were
helping with the preparations as well.

Then Shellie and Mercedes went inside to change into bathing
suits, and a few minutes later I did as well.

By one in the afternoon, you couldn't have asked for a better
day.  In was in the high 80s and looked like it was going to get
into the 90s, and while it was more humid than I liked, it wasn't
too bad.  It had been in the 70s and low 80s for the game... good
old West Texas weather!

People started arriving and we started having a good time.  There
were a lot of people from the baseball and football teams,
including girlfriends; there were a lot of cheerleaders as well.

It was just one of those lucky things that happen, if you want to
call it lucky.  I was standing in a group of people, talking
about chin-ups, of all things, when I saw my dad across the
patio, working on getting the charcoal going for his cooking.  He
picked his cell phone off his belt.  He listened, not speaking. 
After a second, he put it back.

His eyes went around the pool and the forty or so people gathered
in our back yard.  About half were getting wet, including
Mercedes and Shellie.  He saw me looking at him, and he pointed
at me.  I nodded.  As I walked, I saw him get Wanda, Jack and
Chuck coming to him as well.

I got there just as he was talking to Jack and Chuck.  "I want
you two to go to the gate.  No one leaves, until I tell you,
okay?"

Jack and Chuck nodded.  "Don't get curious, either.  Wanda, round
up a helper.  No one goes out the front door, until I tell you,
okay?"

"And I'm not supposed to look outside, right?" Wanda said.

"You'll know soon enough.  Just be cool.  Davey, come with me."

We went through the house, which I thought was a little odd. 
Then I realized that going out the gate meant that someone could
have seen the front of the house.  Then I put it together. 
"Fesselhof?"  I almost choked.  Not with all these people here! 
Please, please...

"Fesselhof," Dad said, nodding.  We went out the front door. 
Half a dozen police cars were there, lights but no sirens.  Chief
Ortega was talking to two men who were detectives; I'd seen both
of them before.

Chief Ortega waved at Dad and I followed along, breathing a sigh
of relief.  He was brief.  "About forty minutes ago, Nicolas
Fesselhof drove himself to the Albertson's.  He got out and
headed into the store.  The detectives following him stayed in
their car.  After about ten minutes, when he didn't reappear, one
went in.  He'd gone out the back.

"The call went out at once.  There were two detectives here,
who'd just seen Fesselhof arrive in another car.  When he got out
of the car, he started for the house.  When the two detectives
approached him, he drew a pistol.  They drew their pistols and it
was only the arrival of additional units that convinced Fesselhof
that today wasn't a good day to die."

The chief of police nodded at a patrol car.  I couldn't see him
well, but I recognized the back of Fesselhof's head.

"I have no way at all to keep this from going public very
shortly," the chief concluded.

Dad shrugged and told Chief Ortega.  "We're going to finish the
party.  I'm not about to let a chuckle-head ruin the day for a
lot of nice kids."

"You know what's going to happen, Phil."  He was talking to Dad,
but looking at me.

Dad had warned me... but really, what could I have done
differently?  Fesselhof had been the one doing things, I'd said
some rude things to him, but I'd never hit him, even when he hit
me.

"He's going to stay in jail this time, right?" I asked, bitter as
hell.

"This time he stays.  Davey, I'm sorry."

"Chief Ortega, it's Fesselhof.  Not me, not you, not anyone. 
Fissionhof is as good a name as any."

"Davey," the chief said, his voice quiet, "Fesselhof had two 9mm
pistols, both with fifteen shot magazines.  He had another four
magazines with him when he was arrested and another sixty rounds
loose in his pockets.  He threatened police officers with a
pistol.  No, he won't be out anytime soon.

"There is a matter of concern about the vehicle that evidently
had been left for him, parked behind the grocery store.  It was
stolen a few days ago in San Antonio.  The plates are different,
front and back, and they too are stolen."

For a second I just blew it off.  Like, who cared?

I swallowed.  I cared.  That was the same description as the car
that had tried to hit Mercedes and me in front of the movie
theater.

Chief Ortega continued to look at Dad.  "I called Willy Coy,
they'll be talking to Fesselhof shortly.  We had no reason to tap
Fesselhof's phone, but there's a federal Patriot Act wiretap
warrant in process now.

"My detectives will stay; we'll put another couple of officers
here as well."  He waved at the mass of cars parked on the
street.  "Traffic control, you know?"

"Thanks, Vic."

"No problem, Phil.  I don't think there's any real risk, but
that's because I'm confident in my people.  Phil, most people
aren't nearly as confident in law enforcement."

Dad grimaced.  To be fair, I had to agree with Chief Ortega. 
Before I'd met him personally I rarely thought about the police,
and didn't have polite thoughts about them when I did.  Since I'd
met him, what they did more often mystified me rather than
inspired confidence.

The Chief turned and walked back to where the two detectives were
answering questions from two other detectives.

Dad turned to me.  "I don't want to tell them," he waved at the
gate to the pool.  "But I'm going to have to."

"Yeah.  But he's right.  It wouldn't be fair if they didn't know
there was a risk.  It seems -- impossible."

"Yeah."  He turned and headed for the front door; I'd expected
him to go through the gate.

Inside the front door he confronted Wanda and Pammie, both of
whom had the drapes spread, peeking outside.

"I'm sorry about this," Dad said to her.

"That little fucker Fesselhof?" Wanda said.

Dad nodded.  "The police have him, but we have to let people
know, Wanda.  I'm really sorry, but he had two pistols and a lot
of ammunition.  I promise, come spring, we'll do this again...
but if people want to leave, we're going to have to let them."

"Wanda," Pammie said.  Wanda turned to look at her.  "My parents
nearly freaked the first time.  I told them how nice Davey is,
how nice they know you are.  They think you're a positive
influence on me.  This time they are going to do more than freak.
 Particularly my old man."

"Tough shit!"

Pammie was trying to be patient.  "They aren't going to let Karen
and me come over any more.  Sewing lessons will have to be at our
house, or some sort of lame shit like that.  Davey is going to
become a pariah, Wanda.  I know my old man."

"We'll deal with it," Wanda said.  "I'm not going to let some
brainless peckerhead mess up my day."

So, we went outside.  Dad called everyone out of the pool, over
by the grill, and then he explained about Fesselhof.  At least he
didn't mention that other thing, but Fesselhof was going to be
enough, I was sure.

The more I thought about, the more depressed I got.  What could I
do?  What had I done to these people?  I beat Fraulein Kimmel in
a poker hand for Christ's sake!  Everyone in the game that night
had beaten her at least once!  I'd laughed in Fesselhof's face! 
When he hit me, I didn't say or do anything!

After Dad explained, Wanda spoke up.  I really, really wish she
wouldn't have done that, because her statement was couched in
terms of wusses and wimps.  People looked at each other, then
they all went back to the party.  See no threat, hear no threat,
must not be a threat, right?  They weren't wimps or wusses!  No
sir!

Both Shellie and Mercedes told me that I had every right to be
terrified of the reaction their parents were going to have.  "My
father is going to be hard to handle," Mercedes said.  "He's
going to talk to my mother.  God!  Why did I say that stupid
thing to your father about my mother!  We could have asked him to
put in a good word for us!"

"We still can," I said stoutly, pretending like my father was
falsely accused of infidelity every day.  Shellie just reached
out and pulled me close, pillowing her head on my shoulder.

The party soldiered on; people ate barbeque, they laughed and had
a good time.  More or less.  Still, by five in the afternoon,
people were leaving and by six, everyone was gone except Mercedes
and Shellie, Pammie and Karen, Jack and Chuck.

A little after six Mercedes' father appeared to collect Mercedes
and Shellie.  The smoldering look of anger on his face told me
he'd heard.  He didn't say anything, just collected Mercedes and
Shellie and left.  Wanda left to take Pammie and Karen home. 
When Wanda got back she wouldn't meet my eyes.  My heart sank and
sank.

Jack, Chuck and I sat out by the barbeque, watching the westering
sunset.  "This is such a piece of shit," Jack said.  "Davey man,
this is like when people were dumping on me.  Yeah, it was my
fault; I was stupid.  Okay, fine -- I wised up.  Not ever going
to happen again.  Fissionhof?  What a useless sack of shit!  Just
put him behind you!"

My father had been cleaning the grill; I was surprised when he
spoke up.  "Jack, you ever played against a guy who tried to
clothesline you every chance he got?"

"Sure, you just have to be careful."

"Exactly.  Now, supposing you're at a game, and see that asshole
talking to one of the assholes you're about to play.  A few
minutes later, the asshole tries to clothesline you.  Coincidence
or on purpose?"

"Someone is due to get pounded!" Jack said.

"Amen," Chuck added.  "No coincidence.  It's no secret everyone
trades notes.  We do it ourselves.  But that's not how we play."

"Exactly," Dad said.  "Davey has someone in particular who
doesn't like him.  There are certain -- signs -- of how they came
after Davey once before.  The same signs are here with Fesselhof.
 Someone who plays in the really big leagues."

Jack looked at him, then at me.  "Someone else is after you?"

I nodded.

"Anyone in particular?" Chuck asked.  He sounded like it was a
joke.

"Yeah.  I took more than a hundred dollars off her at poker the
other day."

I wish I could say that Jack and Chuck rose to the occasion.  I
shouldn't have mentioned how much I'd won.  Their eyes lit up and
that's all they could talk about, sure it was going to be them
winning big in the game later.

After a bit, Hammer and Blade arrived, with someone who wasn't
Willy Coy with them.

"Phil, this is John Fox," Blade said, introducing him.  Then
Blade introduced the rest of us, including Jack and Chuck.  They
made it quite clear that a poker game is a social event, first
names only.

"You know how Willy is kind of our spiritual father?" Blade said.
 Dad and I nodded.  Blade bowed to John Fox.  "Say hello to
gramps."

John Fox laughed at that, easily, with no trace of rancor.  He
was on the tall side, salt and pepper graying hair, but no trace
of baldness or a receding hairline.  He moved like Blade, even if
John Fox was probably close to sixty.

Dad reached out his hand and shook John Fox's.  "You the John
Fox," Dad asked, "who worked in South America a few years ago?"

John Fox allowed that he was.

Dad shook harder.  "Curt Williams and I were at school together.
Thanks.  I mean really, thanks."

John Fox turned to the rest of us.  "Once upon a time we had a
little 'hostage rescue team' in South America.  Practically every
guerilla group at one time or another would take an American." 
He waved at Blade.  "You were there, describe a typical op."

"We would go in, free the hostage."  Blade's eyes met mine. 
"Then we killed all the kidnappers.  Every last one, men,
women... all of them.  Anyone involved with them.  You don't hear
much about Americans being taken hostage in Central and South
America any more.  Yet there are dozens of kidnappings every
day."

Jack and Chuck stood wide-eyed, surprised.

John Fox nodded to me.  "Davey, is it?"

"Yes, sir."

"Willy is right now asking Mr. Fesselhof some questions.  A
little before midnight, Blade will leave to continue to ask some
more questions.  At dawn, Hammer will be there.  Hammer is a very
convincing interrogator."

Everyone looked at Hammer.  Huge arms, huge thighs, muscles,
muscles and muscles.  I think Jack was a little jealous.

I was surprised when Chuck spoke up.  "Like, questioning all
night?  Isn't that torture?"

John Fox smiled at Chuck and Jack.  "You ever pull an
all-nighter?"  They both nodded.  "Were you tortured?"  They both
shook their heads.

He looked at me.  "Probably not yet, eh, Davey?"

Dad spoke up.  "He has two girlfriends.  Soon, real soon now!"

There was general laughter.

"Poker!" Hammer said.  "Poker!  Poker!"

Dad explained the rules, shuffled and we cut.  Jack won the deal
and promptly proved that the drugs really had short-circuited his
brain.

"Five card draw, aces and deuces wild," Jack announced as he
started to deal.  He dropped a card in front of Dad.

"Stop!" Dad said.

Jack looked at him.

"What part of, 'if you call wild cards, don't bother to deal to
me!' didn't you understand?"

Jack blinked.  "This is your house, I can't deal you out."

"Sure you can," Dad said, sliding the card over in front of me. 
"I won't play.  Sorry, Jack."

John Fox coughed and everyone looked at him.  "Son, a word of
advice."  Jack looked like he wasn't interested in hearing any
advice.

"When it's your table, feel free to call your own games.  Do you
know why Phil has that rule?"

Jack shrugged.

"Because having wild cards makes it easier to get better hands,"
John Fox told him.  "Mind you, you do know that the order of
hands stays the same?"

Jack snorted and nodded.

"Yes.  The reason why is that the relative odds of a particular
hand winning doesn't change.  So, if the order doesn't change,
why go to the trouble?"

"It makes it more interesting!"  Jack said firmly.

Dad spoke up.  "Jack, who wins, who loses, is determined by who
has the highest hand after everyone who's in has called.  I can
guarantee you that if you use wild cards, that in an hour, you'll
be sitting there with your dick in your hand, because you won't
have any chips to play with."

Hammer chuckled.  "I'm not sure I needed that metaphor!"

Jack bristled.  "If you don't want to play, that's your
business."  He looked around the table.  "Anyone else want to
drop?"

I decided that, all things being equal, if Dad thought Jack and
Chuck were going to be broke in an hour, I wanted a little of
that, so I took Dad's card.

Everyone else stayed in as well, and I picked up my cards after
Jack finished dealing.

I thought to myself, 'A piss-poor hand'.  That's what Bruce
Willis had said in Armageddon about how the NASA brains had
assembled his drilling machine.  Sure, piss-poor.  Three aces, a
king and a ten.

I contemplated things.  The odds were all whacked, no doubt about
it.  But starting with four of a kind was a good thing.  I shoved
out a quarter.  Long before Chuck or Jack got to bet, the raises
were maxed.  I pitched one card and for my trouble got a second
king.

I laughed.  Five of a kind.  Sure, what were the odds of that?  I
realized that with eight wild cards, not that wild.

I pushed my quarter out, John Fox, Hammer and Blade promptly
folded.  Chuck raised, Jack raised.  So, what the heck, I raised.
 They coughed up the money and I showed the five kings.

If that was bad, what happened after that was terrible.  Only
Jack and Chuck called wild cards, and the third round, Chuck gave
it up.  Jack and Chuck were spending money like it was going out
of style; another couple times around and Jack called seven card
stud without wild cards.

The change to all hands without wild cards didn't stop the
hemorrhage.  I mean my father, John Fox, Blade and Hammer went
after them with a vengeance.  Their stacks of change melted like
ice cubes on the pool deck this afternoon.

At the end, Dad explained table stakes to Jack, who had just a
dollar left.  That's all anyone could bet.  The worst thing about
it was that Jack won that hand.  He perked up... and lost it all
the next round.  Chuck lasted another twenty minutes, but he did
it because he passed just about every hand.

I more than held my own, winning a little, steadily.  After Chuck
went out, Dad called it a night.  I was up about thirty dollars,
and was patting myself on the back... until I looked at the
stacks of coins the others had.  They'd piled up a lot more.

Dad looked at Jack.  "You know I have a great deal of regard for
you, Jack."

"Yes, sir."

"Do you understand that you don't play poker worth a shit?"

Jack laughed.  "I thought I did.  I guess not."

"Chuck?" Dad asked.

"Like Jack, I thought I was on top of my game.  It's humbling to
lose so fast.  I have to think it wasn't an accident."

"We mugged you," I told him.

Chuck looked at me without expression.

I bit my lip.  I'd been on his case too much in the last two
days.

"Accurate, if not polite," John Fox told Chuck.  "Young man, both
of you understand what you have to do.  Your problem is, you let
your ego and your assumption that real soon now the odds would
turn in your favor control what you did.  Son, the odds never
changed.  Never.  Three of a kind with two wild cards is nothing
to write home about.  Four of a kind?  That's going to happen a
couple of times a night when you play with wild cards.  Reflect,
gentleman, on what you could have done better, to more effect."

Jack and Chuck left, Dad and I going with them to say goodbye. 
They weren't much interested in platitudes, obviously nursing
bruised egos.

Dad stopped before we went into the house.  "They won't be back.
They needed a lesson; we provided it.  I'm pleased you did so
well."

"Well, I wasn't bluffing."

"Which is why," Dad said with a grin, "you didn't usually beat
us.  No, what I'm most impressed with is that you didn't gloat,
you didn't talk down to them when you realized everything they
thought they knew about poker was wrong."

"They didn't leave happy campers," I told him.

Dad laughed.  "Poker is about winners and losers.  Happy isn't in
the equation; winning and avoiding losing are.  You did good!"

Blade broke in.  "But they didn't whine, you have to give them
credit for that."

I'm afraid I was wallowing in self-pity.  "Leaving out that
tomorrow I have a feeling I'm going down to zero girlfriends."

He laughed.  "Davey, it's simple.  You are being wronged.  I
don't like that.  It's not because you're my son, I'd stand up
for anyone I think is getting the short end of the stick."

"Like Jack?" I asked, remembering what Dad had done for Jack
after the Labor Day party.

"Like Jack and Chuck," Dad confirmed.

When we were inside, I was a little surprised that no one wanted
to continue... until I realized they were off to the city jail to
see how Fesselhof's questioning was going.

The most important part of the evening came at the end.  John Fox
shook my hand.  "Monday, there will be an assembly at your
school.  Blade and Hammer are going to go over the nature of
terrorist threats.  You won't ruin their surprise, right?"

"No sir, I'm not going to reveal anything."

"I've heard good things about you, young man.  Keep up the good
work!"

"Sir, near as I can figure, tomorrow I turn into a pariah.  You
can take your good work and shove it!"

He smiled.  "Always looking for skillful advocates of a position!
 I'll keep you in mind!"  He shook Dad's hand, told him it was a
lovely evening, and then they were gone.
Once again, in the moments before sleep, I remembered Shellie
against me, Mercedes' shriek, Wanda, Pammie and Ellie going down
on me.  Ellie sitting on me.  I don't think I slept a whole lot
that night.

<1st attachment end>


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