Message-ID: <45119asstr$1067739004@assm.asstr-mirror.org> X-Originating-Email: [jimc_author@hotmail.com] From: "Jim C" X-Original-Message-ID: X-OriginalArrivalTime: 01 Nov 2003 18:46:26.0575 (UTC) FILETIME=[747C29F0:01C3A0A8] X-ASSTR-Original-Date: Sat, 01 Nov 2003 13:46:26 -0500 Subject: {ASSM} Lucky Tickets Chapter 08 (mf ff rom 1st teen non-con mc md humil) Date: Sat, 1 Nov 2003 21:10:04 -0500 Path: assm.asstr-mirror.org!not-for-mail Approved: Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories Followup-To: alt.sex.stories.d X-Archived-At: X-Moderator-Contact: ASSTR ASSM moderation X-Story-Submission: X-Moderator-ID: gill-bates, dennyw _________________________________________________________________ Send instant messages to anyone on your contact list with MSN Messenger 6.0. Try it now FREE! http://msnmessenger-download.com <1st attachment, "Chapter-08.txt" begin> Title: Lucky Tickets Author: JiMC Copyright and Disclaimer: This story is copyright (c) 1998, 2002, 2003. All rights are reserved by the author, including that of publication. Posting on-line is only allowed when permission is explicitly granted by the author, and then only for the complete story, including this disclaimer. Contact the author at for more information, referring to this story ("Lucky Tickets"). (Permission for posting on storiesonline.net and asstr-mirror.org is explicitly granted.) The following is a work of fiction and is just a fantasy. Any resemblance to any person, living or dead, is purely coincidental and entirely unintentional. There may be references to people in a historical context, but they are not really characters in this story. This is a story that describes some sexually explicit situations in a fictional universe that only vaguely seems to be similar to the real universe. Most of the characters in this story are under aged, however the target audience is adults (people over the age of eighteen) with broad minds. Chapter 8 It rained the very next morning. It was a hard, torrential rain, and the sky was dismally grey. I had called Patty the night before, and told her that my family was expecting her to arrive at eight o'clock for breakfast. Patty seemed pleasantly surprised over the phone. She had told me on a few occasions that I needed to deal with my parents, and I had done so, handling my mother without having to resort to using any of my lucky tickets. I took no chances with my step-father, however, not really knowing him as well as my mother. I had been on pins and needles almost the entire night before. I hadn't given a time limit on the wish I had given my step-father, and hoped that it would at least last through the morning. However, I did make similar sorts of wishes without any expirations, such as having Wendy and Camille trust me and treat me as a friend, and they were still going strong. I considered keeping my roll of tickets handy, but in the end, I finally decided that I would just take things as they happen. It occurred to me that Merry was able to explain about how the wishes worked when given a wish to do so (this sounds much more complicated than it really was). I thought I'd ask Patty to try an experiment later so I can figure out why some wishes require time limits, and possibly answer some other questions that I had occurred to me over the last few days. Patty arrived promptly on time, and she parked in front of my house. She ran from her car to my front door, trying to avoid getting too wet. The rain was pouring in sheets, however, so Patty was ultimately unsuccessful. She had a plastic kerchief on her head, and a nylon rain coat over the rest of her clothes, so only her shoes were wet when she got into the foyer. Since our family mostly just wears socks around the house, I had Patty take off her shoes and rain coat, and put them in the entrance foyer. The rest of my family were in the kitchen, waiting for my guest. I took Patty into the kitchen and introduced her, and they all exchanged pleasantries. "Why don't you sit down, Patty?" my mother said. "Thank you," Patty said, taking her seat. My mother seemed just a bit uncomfortable, but tried to be as good a hostess as she ever was. She offered Patty some coffee cake, which she accepted. "Jim tells me that you're a senior," my mother said. "Yes. I'll be going into twelfth grade when school starts after Labor Day," Patty said. "Jim will be attending high school as well," my mother added, carefully avoiding the fact that I would be entering a grade two years younger. "Patty," my step-sister said, "Is that your car in front of the house?" "Yes, Merry." "Wow. How old were you when your father gave you a car?" Merry always had her own personal agendas, and I was quite used to it. "I'd imagine she was a few years older than you are, young miss," my step-father answered. Patty smiled. "I got it last month. Seniors can park at school." "That sounds wicked!" Merry explained. "Have you picked out a college, Patty?" my mom asked. "I think I may do liberal arts at the community college for a couple of years," Patty said. My mother nodded. It hadn't occurred to me that college would be something that a high school student would have to think about. I realized that I would probably be expected to think about college in a couple of years, if not sooner. It occurred to me that the two year difference in my age and Patty's was a bigger gulf than I had thought during the past few days. (In retrospect, I think that making me think this may have been the reason for some of my mother's questions.) "Liberal arts sounds fine. I wish I had earned a college degree," my mother mused. The conversation that morning at the breakfast table continued in the same vein. It was pleasant enough, and only my mother seemed to be forcing her good humor, but I doubted that Patty would have noticed it, not knowing my mother as well as I did. After breakfast, I went to do the dishes, but Merry stopped me, telling me she'd do it, and I that I should attend to my guest. I was a bit surprised, but again, I had a pretty good relationship with her. Patty and I adjourned to my room. I put on a Beatles album at least so my mother could rationalize that we were just listening to records. Patty immediately removed her blouse and bra as she entered my room, almost before the door was closed. She then got on her knees in the middle of my room. "What are you doing, Patty?" "It's Patricia," corrected my guest. "Sorry, Patricia. What are you doing?" "You are supposed to tell me to put your penis in my mouth." I smiled. "You're Kristen this morning?" Patricia nodded. The episode with Kristen was still fresh in my mind. I ordered Patricia to pull my dick out of my pants. She unbuttoned, unzipped, and pulled my jeans down just as Kristen did before. She then took my cock and placed it in her mouth. "Oy um a fock'n butch!" I almost laughed. Patty was not any better than Kristen at talking with a dick in her mouth. I didn't laugh, though, since it would have spoiled the mood. "Oy um a fock'n butch!" I watched as Patty started sucking me in earnest. "Ummm um fummmummm bumm," she moaned, exactly as Kristen had done yesterday. The whole scene was really quite erotic for me, and seeing Patty sucking me while I was remembering Kristen doing exactly the same thing soon had me erupting in her mouth. "That was wonderful, Patricia!" "Thank you, James," Patricia said, pleased at herself. She still had my come in her mouth. "May I swow-woe?" "Well, I don't know how I can have you French kiss Patty, so I guess you can swallow." "Oy could kiss yoom," Patty suggested. I laughed and shook my head, not relishing the thought of tasting a full load of my sperm. Patty swallowed, and smiled in triumph. "That was fun," Patty said. "How did you come up with that punishment for Kristen?" "I don't know," I admitted. "I just tried to think of something that would embarrass her in front of the three of you." "Think you could come up with something embarrassing for me, James?" Patty said, emphasizing the name she used. I sighed. "I don't know. When I'm angry, I usually think of nasty ways of getting even. But I can't imagine me being that angry with you." "Yes, James," Patty said, a bit sadly. I was afraid that I had hurt her feelings... by not hurting her feelings. The whole situation seemed preposterous. "James?" Patty said, still in "slave" mode. "Yes, Patricia?" "Can we visit with Wendy and Camille again today?" I didn't have much in the way of plans for today. "I don't see any reason why not, Patty." Patty smiled at me and gave me a hug. * * * I had Patty drive me to her house. Unfortunately, her mother's car wasn't in the driveway. I had hoped to be able to "convince" Patty's mother that our relationship wasn't something that she needed to be concerned about. "You want to play in my room?" Patty offered. "Nah," I said. Normally, I would rather have had the opportunity to spend a day with Patty at the park, but it was still raining, even if it wasn't the torrential downpour it was earlier in the morning. "So, Patty, would you prefer to go back to Wendy's house, or maybe meet your friends at the mall?" "Wendy's house," Patty answered. "Sure she won't mind?" Patty gave me a "let's get serious" look and didn't bother answering vocally. She put the car into gear and headed back toward my house. "Where are we going? This isn't the way to Wendy's." "Camille's," Patty answered. "Her father brought her car to the auto shop to get a tune-up, oil change, and check-up so she can use it for school." "Oh," I said. Camille actually lived pretty close to where I lived, which made sense since she and her sister had baby sat for me when I was younger. "Hi, Patty! Hi, Jim!" Camille said cheerily when she answered the door. "Is that Patty, dear?" came a woman's voice behind her. "Yes, Ma," Camille answered, looking behind her. "She's with Jim, another of our friends." Camille's mother asked, "Do they want cake?" Camille looked at us, and Patty said quietly that we were heading toward Wendy's. Camille turned back to answer her mother. "Nah. They're just picking me up. I'll be back for dinner!" "OK, 'Milla," the mother said. "Call if you'll be late." * * * In the car, I looked in the back seat where Camille was sitting. "Milla?" Camille grinned. "My mother's side of the family calls me that." "Would that make me 'Jimma,' then?" I giggled. "Very funny." Patty looked over to me from her driving. "'Jimma,'" she said, looking at me. "Interesting name." I just grinned at Patty. The rain was starting to let up as we got to Wendy's house. Wendy's mother had already left for work. "Hi, guys," Wendy said as she answered her door. Patty returned the greeting. "Hi, Wendy. We figured we'd hang out here, if you don't mind." Wendy shrugged. "Mom wants me to do the grocery shopping today. We need cold cuts, so I'll need to shop first before we have lunch." I felt some money in my back pocket. "Um, what if I treat my friends to lunch? We could go, maybe, to Vaughn's." Vaughn's was a combination ice cream and fast food place just outside the mall, in a shopping center that also had a grocery store. Patty looked at me, curiously. "You have money for Vaughn's?" I smiled. "Courtesy of our favorite Princess Bitch!" Camille and Wendy started laughing. "You didn't!" said Wendy. "Yup." I started singing an old Louis Prima song my parents used to play, "Just a Gigolo..." "My god!" Camille said. "You got her to pay you yesterday?" I nodded, self-satisfied. "Uh, huh!" Patty raised an eyebrow. "You should be saving your money, Jim. Not spending it on us." I said, confidently, "There's more where that came from." Patty gave me another of her looks, one that indicated that she might be thinking that I was going to go into the Male Prostitute business. I hadn't yet told her about my arrangement with Kristen. I simply shrugged off Patty's look. Wendy looked at me admiringly. "You really are something else, Jim." "Are you going to keep us standing in the rain, Wendy?" I asked. Wendy, realizing that she was being less than the perfect hostess, invited the three of us in. We removed our coats and shoes in Wendy's foyer, and sat around the living room. "So," Wendy said, once we were all sitting comfortably. "What's new?" "Guess what?" Camille asked. "What?" Patty answered. Camille was grinning. "Guess who called me last night?" Wendy suggested, "Jack from the soccer team?" Camille shook her head. "Nah. Not a boy. Jackie!" Patty said, "You mean, Jackie as in Kristen's gang?" Camille nodded her head. "Uh, huh. She said that Kristen stood up her and a few of her friends yesterday at the mall. And afterward, Kristen had called her gang up, sounding quite strange, and saying things like maybe they could be nicer to other people." Patty was overjoyed. "YES! She listened to me! Yeah!" I nodded, never doubting for one minute the power of the tickets. Patty then looked serious. "I got a call last night. My mom said it was a girl, but when I got on, there was nobody there. Nobody called back, either. I figured it was a wrong number. Maybe Kristen's gang is calling us to tell us that they will treat us nice and whoever it was got cold feet." Camille nodded. "Maybe. Or it could have been a wrong number." Wendy looked at me and said, "You said that Kristen paid you yesterday?" I nodded. "May I ask how much?" I thought about it, and finally said, "I don't think a gentleman should answer that question." Patty gave a weak smile at me, but still had a look of concern. I knew that I would have to have a talk with her later to assure her that Kristen was just a special case. Wendy accepted my reluctance to answer, and changed the subject. "You know who called me last night? Gerry!" "The guy that plays the guitar?" Camille asked, eager for juicy gossip. Actually, I knew a guitar player named Gerry from my experiences with the high school band (my music teacher occasionally "loaned" me out to help out with stuff like school musicals). He was quite talented and had a band and everything. I didn't know Gerry's last name, so I couldn't ask if it was the same person. "Uh, huh," Wendy said. "Like, I've been trying to get him to notice me for MONTHS..." "Anybody with eyes will notice you, Wendy," Camille said. This remark was met with laughs at Wendy's expense, confirming to me that the girls were talking about Wendy's large breasts. The girls dropped into what I guess was typical female gossip. I wasn't too interested in this, but after a few minutes, I realized that I must have passed some sort of milestone in my friendship. I was probably the first guy that these girls would ever discuss such things around. I tried to follow the conversation, but it kept jumping around. I was feeling all too happy to be trusted like this to interrupt them. After about a half hour, I noticed that Patty was looking at me occasionally. And then I noticed that she pointedly started drawing me into their conversation, trying to get my opinions on things. The girls were talking about another of their classmates, a girl named Sally. She was dating a guy that had graduated a couple of months ago. Patty was saying, "I can't see why Sally would think that Kevin would be faithful to her, especially with him over three hundred miles away. What do girls see in older guys, anyway? I kind of like them younger." "Younger?" asked Camille. "How about Steve? Isn't he a hunk?" "Brainless, mindless jock," spat Patty. "I had my fill of them for a lifetime. I want somebody like Jim, here." All three girls looked at me. Quickly, I protested, "I thought you want me just as a friend, Patty." "Not you, necessarily," Patty said. "I said, 'like you.' I want somebody smart, mature, and definitely not a jock." "Hey!" I said in mock protest. Camille giggled, "Jimma Not-A-Jock. I like the sound of that!" Patty and Camille giggled at that. "Jimma?" asked Wendy, confused. "Jim heard Mom call me 'Milla. And he suggested that we call him Jimma." "No, I didn't!" I said. "Aww, poor Jimma!" said Patty, moving over to me. "Is Cammie hurting your feelings?" "Hey!" Camille said, "You're the one that said that Jimma wasn't a jock!" "Let's kiss and make up," Patty said, nuzzling my cheek. "There, Jimma. Feel better now?" Camille and Wendy both decided to get in on the action. Wendy said, "'Jimma.' I like that." She kissed me on my left cheek. "Yeah, Jimma," mocked Camille, who lightly brushed Patty aside to kiss my right cheek. "And it looks like Jimma Junior likes the attention, huh?" Camille had her hand on my crotch, which was starting to react to the proximity of the three girls nuzzling me. Camille wasn't dumb. "Aww, Jimma's little friend seems to be all cooped up in here. Think we should let him out?" Patty gave me a questioning look to as if to ask if I had any of the girls under the control of my tickets. I simply shrugged at her. I had no idea what had gotten into Camille. Camille turned to Patty. "Well, Patty. Do we get to see Jimma's little buddy? Or do you want to hog him all for yourself?" "Hog him?" Patty asked. "Uh, huh," Wendy agreed. Patty blushed as she realized her friends knew that the two of us had more than a non-physical friendship. Camille, said, "You said not Jimma, but like him. So, he's not yours?" Patty said, "No. I mean..." She blushed as she tried to get the words out. Camille and Wendy let me go. Camille said, "Oh, pooh! Patty, we're just teasing you and Jimma here." She went to hug her friend, and Wendy did likewise. I didn't want to be left out, so I went over to Patty and hugged her as well. "All friends, right?" "Right," Patty answered. "You're correct, Jimma Not-A-Jock!" I wondered how long that name would stick. * * * The conversation turned to other subjects, including school classes that I wouldn't have to think about for a year or so. I listened, but didn't memorize everything. Every once in a while, the girls would try to bring me back into the conversation, but I was happy to just be part of the group, just listening. The phone rang, doing little to interrupt the conversation except that Wendy went into the kitchen to answer it. Patty and Camille continued whatever they were talking about. Wendy came in. "Patty, it's for you." "The phone?" Patty asked. "For me?" "Yeah." Patty went into the kitchen. As soon as she left, Wendy said, quietly, to Camille and me, "It's Kristen. She sounds weird." "Ooh," Camille said. "Maybe the bitch really is going to apologize to us." Wendy shrugged. "Well, she didn't apologize to me. She just asked for Patty." "Huh?" Camille asked. "That IS weird." Patty came in, looking at me with an expression that I never her use before: disapproval. "It seems that Kristen is asking permission for me to let her meet with Jim." Wendy asked, "Why not ask Jim himself?" Patty continued looking at me. "That's a good question." I tried to look sheepish, but I was actually feeling victorious. I had won another battle against Kristen's bitchiness. I had made her ask Patty to arrange for my services, but had neglected to tell Patty about it. Seeing Patty's attitude now made me questioned the wisdom of letting this be a surprise to her. "I, uh..." I stammered. "Kristen seems to be addicted a bit to me." Wendy and Camille looked at each other in surprise. I decided to let them all know. "She has to make arrangements through Patty for my services. It's part of my plan to embarrass her." Patty shook her head. "Jim, something went wrong! She really sounds desperate!" Shit. Maybe I went a little too far. I didn't answer Patty. Patty pressed on. "She wants to come over." I looked at the three girls, and saw that none of them really wanted a repeat of yesterday's performance. "Send her over," I said quietly. "Huh?" asked Patty. "I said, 'send her over,' Patricia," in the same quiet voice. "Yes, JAMES," Patty said, still disapproving, and quickly returned back to the kitchen. Wendy and Camille didn't understand what was going on, but by now I think that they realized that Patty and I had some secret code between us. I looked at the two girls and said, "Don't worry. I'll make things right. I had just wanted to give Kristen a not-so-subtle reminder about yesterday. I may have gone too far." Wendy and Camille nodded, but didn't say anything. Patty came out of the kitchen. "She'll be here in ten minutes, JAMES." I sighed and turned to the other two girls, "Could we have a moment in private?" The two girls nodded and silently left. As soon as they were gone, Patty started talking to me in hushed tones. "You know, I wouldn't mind if you did that sort of thing to me. After all, I volunteered for that sort of thing and I will obey you voluntarily. But you did it to her using a ticket. Those things are powerful, JAMES. Yes, she's a bitch, and probably deserves to be shown up, but the voice I heard on that phone was as bad as you hear on those television shows where you see heroin junkies!" "I'm sorry, Patty," I said, keeping my voice low. "I may have fucked up, but I can also fix it." Patty looked at me, breathing heavily. This was one of the first times that I had seen her truly angry at me. She seemed to force herself to take longer breaths, and appeared to be counting to herself in order to calm down. "Yes," Patty finally said. "You can probably fix it. But you should think before you use those things. If you tell me that I'm addicted to your sperm, I won't go through withdrawal symptoms. I'll just play-act that way. But if her parents were to see or hear her in the condition she's in now, they'd probably take her to a hospital! A HOSPITAL, Jim!" "I wasn't thinking," I said. "Jim. Promise me you'll be careful with those things." I nodded and promised. I was angry at myself for having Patty upset with me. I don't know where the tears came from. Big boys aren't supposed to cry. "I'm... sorry..." "Don't beat yourself up, Jim," Patty said, quietly, holding my head between her breasts, holding my head like a mother would hold a crying child, which I guess is the perfect simile. Finally, Patty said, "What did you tell Kristen? And what did you actually want?" I sniffed, trying to will the tears out of my eyes. "I wanted to humiliate her; make her have to get permission before she could orgasm. I told her she needed to have my sperm in her mouth to come, that she was addicted to my dick and my sperm." Patty nodded, which I didn't see, but rather felt. "Well, you actually punished her more than you thought." "Yeah," I said. moving my face within her arms, hoping to wipe a bit of my tears off my face. "Well," Patty said, soothingly, "let's cure her addiction, and think about removing her need to ask permission. That sounds a bit too kinky." I could hear Patty chuckle a bit from my ears that were still against her chest. I was starting to feel better. "Can I get my bag of tickets?" I asked Patty. "You mean, 'may I?'" "Yes, Mother," I said, smiling weakly. Kristen arrived a few minutes later, and she looked even worse than Patty had described her. She was still topless, and looked completely defeated, as if she hadn't had any sleep since we last saw her yesterday. "Take a ticket," I told her as soon as I got over my shock of seeing her. "You have one wish," Kristen said without any emotion. "Kristen, your addiction to my sperm and any other addiction that I may have put on you are cured." Kristen looked at me dully for a few moments, and then said, "Your wish is my command." Patty looked at the girl and said, softly, "Kristen, what the hell happened to you?" Kristen slowly looked at me, and then at Patty. She took a breath and said, "I didn't go home last night. I found a phone booth that had a broken light, and I called my parents and told them I would be out. I called a few of my friends... I don't really remember what I told them, and I really don't care. I didn't have a place to go where I could be topless, and nobody would understand. I ended up parking on a deserted street. Luckily, nobody attacked me." I had no idea that my little game would have such far-reaching repercussions. Kristen closed her eyes, continuing her story. "I had images of me sucking... sucking him in front of the three of you... the picture that you guys took... I can't stop looking at it... can't stop fantasizing about it." Kristen took a deep breath. "I tried masturbating, but what he had told me was true. I can build it almost to the point of release, but only if I think of... his penis... and me sucking him... but I still cannot... you know..." I looked at Patty, who was giving me that "this is YOUR fault" look on her face. I shook my head, wondering how I could have fucked up so royally that Patty... my dear Patty... was angry at me. Unbidden, I felt my eyes start to water again. I sighed and handed Kristen another ticket. "You have one wish." "Kristen, you are no longer under any compunction to fantasize about me. And you're no longer addicted to me." I had repeated that last wish mostly to insure that it would work. "Your wish is my command." Kristen still looked like shit. I turned to Patty, and asked her if she knew where Kristen's blouse was from yesterday. Patty shook her head. "I don't know. It was here when the two of us left yesterday." I nodded. "Could you ask Wendy if she still has it? If not, see if you can get Wendy to lend Kristen something to wear." Patty still had an angry look in her eyes, but she did what I told her. I asked Kristen to come inside, but she was hesitant. "This isn't Patty's house," Kristen said. "No, it isn't." "It's not yours, either. Is it one of the... other girls?" I nodded. "It's Wendy's. Her mother is at work." Kristen just nodded, and continued to stand in front of me, her breasts still on display. Kristen showed no modesty, which in retrospect wasn't too surprising, since she had been topless for over eighteen hours already. Kristen actually had a nice body. Her breasts were a bit larger than Patty's, and had very dark aureolae--so dark that I almost couldn't make out her nipples. The defeated girl noticed my attention to her breasts, but still didn't hide them from me. The two of us continued to stand awkwardly in Wendy's foyer. I started to say a few things, but really couldn't think of what to say. Finally, I said, "I'm sorry, Kristen." Kristen didn't answer, but shrugged. She stared at me with a blank look on her face that I couldn't decipher. After about a minute, Kristen burst out crying, and I instinctively moved closer to her, and she put her arms around my back and rested her head on my chest. This mirrored the scene that I had with Patty a few minutes ago, and I did what Patty did, and simply pat Kristen on the head. I wanted to comfort the girl, but I didn't want to scare her; I was the one that had put her through hell. Patty came back with Kristen's blouse and bra, and stopped when she saw the two of us. My attention was on Kristen, and I didn't notice Patty's arrival. "I'm really sorry," I said quietly to Kristen. Kristen's response was to burst out in a fresh round of tears. This was a totally alien experience to me. I looked around, and was surprised to see Patty standing there, looking at me. She still had a look of concern on her face, and I was grateful that it wasn't the look of anger that she had before. None of us said anything more for about five minutes. Kristen finally cried herself out, and looked up. She seemed surprised that I was holding her, but she didn't push away. She finally spoke, "Why?" Why? That was a good fucking question. I had been asking myself that same question for about ten minutes, ever since I heard Patty tell me that my little game yesterday had had gone awry. I shook my head, "I don't know, Kristen. I really don't know. I've been wracking my brain trying to make sense of it." "But why?" Kristen persisted. "Why me?" That was an easier question to answer. "Because you are a bitch. And you turned a good friend of mine against me. I was angry at you and wanted to teach you a lesson." Kristen looked as if she had been slapped. Her mouth was open, and her eyes looked at me questioningly. "I? I turned your friend against you? I don't even know you!" I sighed, and said, "Patrice. She was a friend of mine until she started hanging out with you. Now she calls me a pathetic loser." Kristen looked confused. "I never told her to do anything like that!" She shook her head, and continued crying. I looked to Patty for support. She was still standing there, watching the two of us, and saw me look at her. Patty said, "Maybe if we go into the living room..." "NO!" Kristen shouted through her tears. I felt her arms go rigid over my shoulders. "What's wrong?" asked Patty. "That's where... you know..." "Oh," I said, softly. Kristen turned to Patty, and noticed that she had her blouse. Kristen cleared her throat and then said, "May I have my clothes back, please?" "Sure," answered Patty, bringing them over. Kristen broke our embrace and took the items from Patty. She methodically put on her bra, and then her blouse, not showing any indication of embarrassment about dressing in front of two strangers. "I... I need to get going..." Kristen stammered. "Wait," I said. "Kristen, I'm really, really sorry. I didn't know the consequences of what I had done to you. That was never my intention." Kristen sniffed and looked me in the eyes. I was expecting the girl to tell me to go to hell, but she didn't. She just continued to look at me. "I'm sorry, too," Patty added. Kristen looked at Patty, and then back at me. Finally, Kristen sighed and said, "I don't know. Last night was a living hell. And this morning, I had to call all around to find out where Patty lives... I didn't even know her last name! And then, when I call, her mother gave me the phone number here. I felt... I felt like I was losing my mind." "I'm really, really sorry," I repeated, not knowing what else to say. Kristen was still standing close to me, and I instinctively hugged her again. I felt her body stiffen, but eventually, her muscles relaxed, and she was crying on my shoulder again. It occurred to me at that point that perhaps a ticket would make Kristen forget about what happened, but something inside me realized that this was one fuck up that I would have to handle myself. I looked at Patty, who simply shrugged at me. "Did you eat anything since you left yesterday?" I asked her, softly. "Eat? Without wearing clothes? Are you kidding?" I nodded. "I was going to take Patty and the girls to Vaughn's. Would you please come with us? I want to make up for what I did to you." Kristen started shaking her head no, but then stopped. She just stood there. Finally, she looked up, her face inches from mine. "You want me... to have lunch with you... and your friends?" I nodded. "Yes. Could we please be friends? I'm really sorry..." Kristen still had tears in her eyes. She turned her head back onto my shoulder and started crying again. I gave Patty a look that said, "What did I do now?" Patty motioned to me to continue holding Kristen, and I did. Kristen's face was buried in my arms, and I heard her stammer, "You want me... to be your friend?" I nodded, knowing that Kristen couldn't see me, but could feel the motion. Kristen sighed. "I'll... I'll go with you. But could I go to the bathroom? I need to get freshened up." Patty offered to take Kristen, and Kristen accepted. I stood alone in the foyer, my mind going over what had happened. I had fucked up, big time. Patty thought that I was horrible. And God knows what Wendy and Camille thought about me. I found the other two girls in the kitchen, and they were talking quietly between themselves. Camille saw me and said, "You look like shit." "Thanks," I said soberly. Wendy added, "How's Kristen doing? Did she leave? I didn't hear her car." "She's in the bathroom with Patty, getting cleaned up," I explained. Camille nodded and said, "You should do the same. There's a bathroom back here." "Yeah," I said, not caring that I looked like shit. I sure as hell felt like shit. "What happened to Kristen?" Wendy asked. "Patty wasn't too specific." I sighed once again. "I fucked up. I gave her an order yesterday that had terrible consequences. I wouldn't blame Patty or Kristen if they never spoke to me again." Camille's eyes went wide. "Patty? Never see you again? Are you fuckin' nuts? She'd never do that to you!" "Huh?" I asked. Camille hadn't seen the look of anger in Patty's eyes. "Patty adores you," Camille said. "She spends all her time with you. You're all she talks about. So you fucked up. You're fuckin' human, goddammit!" "Well, news flash: Patty hates me," I said, not wanting to listen to Camille. Camille just shook her head. I looked at Wendy, who did the same. I sighed. For older and supposedly smarter girls, they sure were difficult to talk to. Wendy told me where the bathroom in the back was, and I went in. I didn't recognize the face that looked at me in the mirror. Did I look that bad? I almost looked worse than Kristen had, if that was possible. DAMN! DAMN! DAMN! I had almost fucked up a girl's life, and now the one special girl in my life was totally angry with me. I sat on the toilet and cried. I don't know how long I sat there. I was thinking of all the adjectives that described how despicable I was. I had probably figured out more than ever appeared in Roget, especially since they didn't put slang or four-letter words in that book. I heard a knock at the door. "Go away," my voice croaked. The door opened anyway, and Patty walked in. Patty was the last person that I wanted to see right now. I didn't need to feel any more guilt. I had more than I could handle at the present. I turned away from Patty, and continued my list of adjectives. I wondered if "execrable" was a real word, or was it "excremental..." or was that just another word for "shitty?" "Jim," I heard Patty say through the fog of my brain. "Don't go killing yourself over this." "Leave me alone," I wailed, tears freely flowing down my face. Patty sighed and slapped me in the face. I was stunned. "Get a fucking hold of yourself, Jim!" I put my hand to my cheek, which was burning. Patty had slapped me! I knew she was angry, but she was angry enough to beat me up! I just looked down at my knees. I had lost the best thing that had happened to me since I had found those fucking tickets. I actually hadn't considered killing myself until Patty mentioned it. I wondered if there were any razors in the bathroom that I could cut my wrists with. "JIM! LOOK AT ME!" "What?" I asked. "You don't need to tell me how revolting, repulsive, detestable I am..." "JIM! I SAID LOOK AT ME!" I refused to look at Patty. My mind fell in love with the word "detestable" and I idly wondered the etymology of that word. Did it have anything to do with the word "test?" Once again, I was shocked by another slap in the face, this time to the other cheek. "OW!" I cried, looking up at Patty. "I'm not angry with you... Jimma." Jimma? I thought back, and realized that this was the three girls' "friend" name for me. I wondered what kind of sick trick Patty was attempting to pull. "Jim!" Patty said. "I said, 'I'm not angry with you!'" I waited for the other shoe to drop. "Jim... Jimma..." Patty said, trying to get through the black cloud in my brain. I wondered what had been going on outside this bathroom, and I said, aloud, "Did Kristen leave? God, I hate myself! 'Detestable.' That's the word that describes me. Detestable." "Stop it, Jim," Patty ordered. "Kristen's still here. You invited her to Vaughn's, remember?" Vaughn's? I remembered asking the girls. Had I asked Kristen? Why would I? The poor girl must hate my pathetic and detestable guts. "Jim... Vaughn's. You invited us, and then you invited Kristen. Kristen accepted. Don't you remember?" Had I? I tried to remember being in the foyer, but my mind was focused on trying to work out a topper for "pathetic." "Jim!" Patty said. She sighed, realizing that she was getting nowhere. "Jim... I love you." Somehow, through the mists of my mind, those four words echoed and echoed, finding their way to me on my deserted island with a million copies of Roget's Thesaurus. Patty loves me? But she hates me! The two can't possibly coexist. I looked up, and saw Patty for the first time. I didn't see anger in her eyes. I saw concern. Patty was concerned about me? "You're back," Patty said, seeing some spark of life come back to my eyes. "Yeah. You must hate me," I said sourly. "I love you," Patty answered. "I was angry at you, but you sort of made things right. I'm proud of what you did in the foyer. That girl needed somebody to hold her, and you did. You treated her as a friend." "I did?" I asked, totally confused. Patty nodded. "Kristen's in a weird place right now. If she had gone any longer, she might have had a mental breakdown. She's fragile, but she's a strong willed girl. You have to admit that." "I'm glad she's strong," I said, still feeling angry at myself. Patty continued, "She's strong, but she needed somebody to hold her. You were that somebody. You invited her to Vaughn's." My mind was still full of raw emotions. I never realized the depth of the bond between Patty and me. "Jim... Kristen's starving. You invited us all to Vaughn's. I love you. Doesn't any of this make sense to you?" I looked at Patty, and did see love in her face. I got up off the toilet seat and fell into her arms. I cried like a baby. Patty kissed me, and brought me to the sink. She wet a washcloth and tried to make me look presentable. It was a chore; my eyes were red from crying, and both cheeks were red and bore Patty's hand prints. Finally, Patty got me as clean as she could get me, and said, "Come on. We're going out. You're driving with me." We exited the bathroom, and went back into the kitchen. "Where are the girls?" I asked Patty. "They went ahead to Vaughn's," Patty said. "We're to meet them." I nodded. In the foyer, I was surprised to see Kristen there. She had a look of confusion on her face, but also one of apprehension. I couldn't think of what to say to Kristen. And then, unbidden, I said, "Please forgive me, Kristen." Kristen just nodded. "C'mon," said Patty. "I need to get the two of you to the restaurant." Kristen sat between Patty and I in Patty's car. After seeing Kristen get into the passenger side, I started to move to the back door, but Patty gave me a look that indicated that I should sit next to Kristen. I obeyed. Kristen looked a bit nervous, but simply moved into the center of the bench seat. We drove in silence, and Patty eventually pulled into Vaughn's parking lot. Patty got out of the car, and as I started to get out, I felt Kristen touch my arm. I stopped. "I forgive you," Kristen said, quietly. "But I don't think I'll ever forget this experience." <1st attachment end> ----- ASSM Moderation System Notice------ Notice: This post has been modified from its original format. 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