Message-ID: <1458eli$9706141112@qz.little-neck.ny.us> X-Archived-At: Path: qz!not-for-mail Followup-To: alt.sex.stories.d Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories Organization: The Committee To Thwart Spam Approved: X-Moderator-Contact: Eli the Bearded X-Story-Submission: From: Krieg Lite Subject: Jenny (Mf+ teen play) Chap 4 As found in the noodle box... [WARNING: This is a non-erotic interlude. Skip this chapter and wait for chapter 5 if you're looking for the good stuff. Maybe even chapter 6 for the serious good stuff.] [WARNING Two: Might be an appreciable wait before the posting of the next chapter.] ------------------------------------------------------------ Chapter Four The Date Despite a relatively good sleep, all day the next day I was as nervous as some pimply faced adolescent awaiting his first date. I had spent most of my free moments during the day regretting letting Jenny talk me into this thing. I couldn't think of any way it could turn out well for me. I could think of a dozen ways it could turn into a minor or major disaster. I could even wind up in jail. Not necessarily likely, but possible. But at the same time, there was a certain excitement associated with it. As the day progressed, my excitement mounted. It was very much like the time I had agreed to go skydiving: class was fun, but that first time I knew I was going to step out of an airplane was a totally different kind of feeling. I wondered if this would end up the same way. After I had done it once, the second time just wasn't the same, and I gave it up. Of course, just as with skydiving, a second time wasn't guaranteed anyway. At two minutes before seven, I knocked on the door. Jenny opened it. She was dressed in blue jeans and a loose shirt and was carrying a dust cloth, which she had apparently been using. She said in her best voice, "Oh, good evening, Mr. Palmer. Won't you come in? Mother will be with you in just a moment." She then turned and screamed up the stairs. "Mom! He's here!" And then back again to the young sophisticate. "Please sit down. Could I get you some coffee or something?" "Yes, Larry? Would you like something?", Jenny's mother came walking down the stairs, all ready to go. Remarkable. "Or do we have time? By the way, I'm Helen. I don't think we quite got to that last night." "Helen, you look lovely!" She actually looked better than that, but I thought I'd better keep something in reserve. "Thank you very much, I think I will have a cup of coffee." "Coming right up!", Jenny said, and left the room. Helen smiled at me and shook her head, her eyes twinkling, as a sign of resignation with the behavior of her offspring. I started to relax, though I wasn't sure why. Nothing had happened to change my original misgivings about the probable end result of the evening, so it might have been simply contagious resignation. By the time Helen and I had seated ourselves opposite each other across the coffee table, Jenny was back: as good as her word. My relaxation was interrupted by Helen's next words. "So you got lucky, huh?" After a moment's no doubt delightful observation of my discomfort, she continued. "I wish my office were creative enough to think of raffling concert tickets. I'm afraid football pools for filthy lucre are more the style there; perhaps it's because with most of them music is more often associated with work." I breathed again, and without pausing more than was necessary to get her timing right, she followed up with, "Not that I object to taking their money, of course." I chuckled appreciatively (and honestly), and disavowed any incipient civilization on the part of my office mates, pointing out that someone had probably got stuck somehow with a couple of tickets which he had used the pool to get rid of. And then commented (again honestly), "This coffee is delicious!" "I'm afraid I'll have to give Jenny credit for the coffee. Though I feel compelled to add that I taught her how to make it." Helen paused, then said "You know, I did win something worthwhile once. I was in the third grade." She went on to tell a cute, and probably totally invented, or at least energetically edited, story about winning a typical third grade contest which gave her a book on the great composers. She told it well, and her timing was impeccable. She reached the punch line just as it was time to leave. I was no longer just relaxed, but impressed. And pliable, I'm afraid. Although I didn't realize it at the time, Helen had been taking command, in a way, or at least limited command, or at a minimum control. Never questioning, much less insistent, she used stories and anecdotes to tell me about herself, and also to get me to tell her about myself. And I loved every minute of it. And I told her. One mildly jarring moment came when we left. Jenny saw us to the door, and said cheerfully and innocently, "Good night Mom. Have a good time. I'll see you tomorrow." Although she had said nothing other than "OK, Jenny" at the time, once we were out of earshot Helen told me, "Much as I hate to, I suppose I'm obligated to explain that Jenny is going to spend the night at her friend's. Hence her remark about seeing me in the morning." I could feel her eyes twinkling in the darkness. While we were in the car on the way to the restaurant, I learned that the third grade book on composers had led to an interest in music which lasted until college, where she majored in music. At the restaurant (Chinese, always an effective litmus) she showed that she was a good, and skilled, eater. She knew how to select her food, and it was obvious that while not exactly a vegetarian, meat was not a primary part of her diet. She also knew the difference between good food and mediocre, and was not afraid to make the distinction once she had tasted it. Always a perfect lady, she could still make intelligent conversation about the food while she continued with her account of her personal history and her exploration of mine. She had grown up next door to Jenny's father -- a classic romance celebrated in teen songs immemorial, at least those of our era. They had dated throughout high school, and had gone to the same college, where they got married while she was a sophomore and he a senior, and when she had been three months pregnant with Jenny. His family had had money, so continuing school was not a problem, or even an issue. Jenny had been born in July, so Helen hadn't missed a class. Her husband by this time was already gainfully employed (as a junior executive in his father's company), so neither Helen nor Jenny were deprived of physical or emotional nourishment. Things started to fall apart shortly after Helen graduated. Not necessarily because of her graduation, but just because they had been married for a couple of years and marriage wasn't what they thought they had been waiting for all those years. By the time Jenny was three and a few months they had parted, more or less amicably. After the divorce, Helen had gone to work, first as a secretary, and then later by virtue of some school contacts, as a music instructor at the school where she had graduated. Work had not been a real necessity for her at the time, because her ex had been more than generous. Once they were apart they could stand each other again, and they remained friends. Until he died in a car accident a year or so later. He had left her name on his insurance policy. His family had never really accepted the divorce, still considered her part of the family, and offered to continue her support. She would not accept it; but she did decide that she needed to be more than a teaching assistant, so she went for and got her masters, and then her doctorate, and now had tenure. And together with my reciting my history to her, that took care of dinner. But unless you understand that I had never until then even confided to my mother or my ex-wife most of what I told her it would be very difficult to explain that I had been -- in the most literal sense -- +--------------' Story submission `-+-' Moderator contact `------------+ | story-submit@qz.little-neck.ny.us | story-admin@qz.little-neck.ny.us | | Archive site +--------------------+------------------+ Newsgroup FAQ | \ .../assm/faq.html> /