Timeout 4, Reel to Real: A Whateley Academy Fan fiction
Chapter 12

This is fan fiction for the Whateley Academy series. It may or may not match the timeline, characters, and continuity, but since it's fan fiction, who cares? To see the canon Whateley Stories, check out either Sapphire's Place, (http://www.sapphireplace.com/stories/whateley.html) or the Big Closet (http://bigclosetr.us/topshelf/taxonomy/term/117)." Here’s another chapter in part four of my TG/sci-fi/superhero/magic/one-size-fits-all epic. It’s not that bad; I do have an overall story arc in mind, honest. I’m much better than when I started this, though my grammar and spelling remain flawed; ask Itinerant if he is still… In our previous chapter, Itinerant said, ‘(Great. Now I'm getting 'cheep' shots … Doo-dah! Doo-dah!)’ Tisk tisk tisk, how *Camp*-town can you be? (Depends on how much horsing around I do. (-dah))

Your constructive criticism and advice continues to help. This is an exercise in the joys of creativity and in appreciation of the wonderful Whateley Universe. Any violations of copyright, trade mark or use of real people or incidents are purely for purposes of humor or parody and done solely for the free enjoyment of the reading public. All rights reserved in perpetuity, John from Wauwatosa WI, 2005-2012.

Adult content advisory: this chapter contains situations and topics unsuitable for young minds or your sanity. There is also some adult content written by a middle-age juvenile mind. You were warned.

Timeout 4,Chapter 12

It IS chapter 12, really. I *KNOW* chapter 11 had like TWO parts, I think, but this IS chapter 12. No foolln'

By John from Wauwatosa
Pronouns protected by Itinerant
Homophone herding by Holly Hart
Um, that means they proofed it &/or otherwise saved you from me.

Chapter 12, Sitting Pretty, V a c a t i o n

(Part one of Chapter 12 to be honest. Probably four, maybe five parts to this chapter in total)

Various locations in Iowa and Wisconsin, June 03-16, 2007

Sunday June 03, 2007

I woke to the sensation of something brushing across my face.

“Huh, wah? Flufppb?” You try talking with an ostrich feather twitching in your mouth. “What the … Who did that … Mel?!”

“Joanie, it’s 7 o’clock. Get up. We eat in ten minutes.”

“Okay. Jeese, that feather tastes awful.” I pretended to swat her for being a tease. Mel laughed as she ran out of my room.

I dressed quickly, brushed my hair, and hustled to the kitchen. I saw a buffet set out before me: juice, coffee, milk, eggs — several styles -- bacon, ham, sausage links, toast, waffles, bagels, jam, jelly, cream cheeses, and cereal. I don’t remember it all; I’ve seen resort breakfast buffets with less variety.

“Babs, why didn’t someone get me up earlier? I would have helped; I can
cook.”

“You think I did this all by myself, Joanie?"

"No! Yes! I mean this must have took a lot of work, and with you in …" The moment I spoke, I knew I shouldn't say it, but it blurted out anyway. " … your condition. Oh crap! I didn't mean … Babs, it's just this is too much; I'm no one spec …. I'll shut up now, *'k*?" If I'd said anymore, I could have put both feet and my crew cab in my mouth. ~~~ Dumb... dumb... dodo, brainless human being …~~ My mind chose that moment to remember an old Bill Cosby routine, and boy/girl did I fit it to a tee. FYI, when dope-slapping yourself make sure you miss. It hurts!

Babs laughed. "I'll admit I did the eggs, but I sat on a stool, as I worked. Mel did the toast and helped move things to the table. Bob did the waffles and sausage, and Eric did the bacon and ham. We wanted to give you a proper welcome home. We all love you so very much. Doing this for you was a joy not a burden.

“And it wasn't all that much work for me, honest; and you deserve it, dear. I like to do things for my friends and you, dear Joanie, are more than a friend. When we spoke a while back about us being sisters, I meant it.”

“It’s wonderful that you're doing this for me, Sis, but it doesn’t seem right, what with you being pregnant. I know that sounds old fashioned and maybe chauvinistic, but …”

“Ah, the remnants of the man is talking, Sis. I’m no invalid, just because I'm pregnant; I take things easier, but I can still do a lot.”

“Now I’ve insulted you. I’m sorry.” I fought back tears; I felt very stupid.

“It’s sweet you want to protect me, but I’m fine, honest. Tell you what, if you promise to take my children to a park or someplace fun, you’re off the hook. Moms hanging with their teenage children are a drag; pregnant moms, doubly so, triply so in my case.”

“Mom! It’s kewl hanging with you,” Mel protested.

Eric was right behind. “Like Mel said,” Eric echoed his sister.

“Sweet, kiddos, but don’t lie to your mom. I understand teens hanging with mom is uncool. Plus I tire easily now. I don't have the energy to keep up. Babs turned to me. “So is it a deal, Joanie? You'd be doing us all a big favor.”

“I’m not keeping them from church, am I?”

“It’s entirely up to Eric and Mel; Bob and I don’t force our beliefs on them.”

“You have a deal, but if you cook for me again, I’ll be very angry, *huff, huff*, very angry indeed!” Then we both got the giggles. I do a wicked Marvin the Martian. You know, his Roman Legionnaire's get up with the tennis shoes might just work for me. Hum, maybe if I substitute, trade his tennis shoes for some Roman sandals with the rawhide things laced criss-cross fashion up to the knees, with maybe a touch of heel, say no more than four or five inches … sort of Ben Hur meets Betty Page.

~~Ghods ! I AM shoe obsessed !~~

* * * *

Breakfast went pretty smooth;y after this, though I found, make that we found, ourselves *serving* Babs her's until she told us. "Cut it out, I'm not an invalid! Can't I eat in peace?" She tried to sound mad but it was clear she wasn't. We let her be after that. After eating we put out plates, cups and flat wear in the sink. Yeah, a dull story but important. How else would they get clean? Oh, we rinsed them and put them in the diswasher too. Mel had to show me how.

What! Who said that? I AM not stupid! We never had a diswasher at home so I never learned. Did I say dis washer? OH MY GHOD! I really am a blonde! And sorry about all the exclamation marks -- ! -- but Wallyword had a sale.

* * * *

With breakfast over, my two co-conspirators and I met in Mel's room to plan our day.

“What do you want to do…?” Eric got this leering grin on his face.

“Okay, I *know* what you want to do, but remember not until you’re eighteen, Eric?” I giggled, and he laughed.

“Just joking, Joanie.”

"I know you were, Eric. You were, weren't you?" That got a laugh from my friends. "So what do you two want to do today? You're the experts on this *town*, what's fun? Whatever you two want to do, I'm game … That means it's okay"”

Mel looked at me like she was about to say "I know what *game* means, Blondie." but she quickly smiled instead. “I have to be at Lisa’s by 4 o’clock for the chat session, but a day at the beach would be nice.”

“What my sister said could be fun,” Eric agreed.

Part of me could imagine just how much fun that could be, and I gave her a stern mental reprimand … and a mental high five. Healthy young bodies -- a certain young man's in particular -- in wet, clinging swimsuits … parts of me were drooling. When I got this thought about skinny-dipping …. Whoa momma!

“Get your suits, and make sure they fit; you're both growing like weeds, after all. Make sure you grab some big towels, sunglasses and sunscreen for us all, and we’re off.”

* * * *

Eric and Mel suggested this one park in Des Moines. It had a decent beach. There were nicer ones in the area, but the water was known to warm up faster than most other beaches in the area as it was on a reservoir on one of the rivers. I wore a sundress over my suit for modesty … and to tease a certain young man. Plain tennis shoes, a ball cap and a sports watch completed my outfit.

I mentioned the *sports watch*, as I said we were going to the beach which implies swimming, duh. If you are going to wear a watch while swimming any sane person would wear a sports watch since most sports watches are waterproof. Yeah, I know most people wouldn't wear a watch at all when swimming but Mel did need to get to Lisa's for the chat session. Does this make sense to you now? I brought this to your attention to prove I'm not completely blonde. I mean Geeze! A girl makes a few tiny mistakes and suddenly they think she's a ditz. I am so NOT one, a ditz that is . I am ALL girl I'll have you know.

Where was I? I was describing our trip to the beach. We brought along water bottles to keep hydrated but planned to eat out if hungry. I followed their directions, and we were there in less than 20 minutes. I parked and turned to speak.

“Make sure to use lots of sun block and reapply it often, particularly between 10 and 2 o’ clock. I’m a regen; you are not, and sunburn hurts.”

“Yes, Mommy,” they said. I ignored this attempt at baiting me. I am a mature woman after all.

I locked up any valuables they had in the truck; I had a special pocket in the bikini brief of my swimsuit to keep my truck key safe. It was a very small pocket, as it was a very small suit. It was that or wear the key on a cord around my neck dangling between my … ~~Eric would love that … Joanie, eighteen, remember eighteen.~~

“Eric, Mel, in an emergency, the key on me will get you in the truck to use my cell phone, but it won’t start the motor unless you know the security code.”

“And where is that key?”.

I smiled and moved closer. “It’s in my bikini bottom, Eric. ‘Wanna see?” I whispered that last bit in his ear, and he turned beet red. I said I ignored it, I never said I FORGAVE them for the *Yes, Mommy* crack.

“I’m just teasing you two. Come here please; I have something to give you both.”

I handed them each a key on a long colorful boot-lace to wear around their neck or waist. Each key was on a brightly colored, floating key-chain -- the ones they sell to boaters and fishermen -- just in case. "I think I can trust you two with keys to my truck. But no joyriding, I memorized the mileage reading," They chuckled.

We got to the water and laid out our towels on the sand to claim a spot. "I think it's time for some sunscreen. Mel, I’ll get your back with lotion. You’d better do Eric’s and mine; the two of us might get too enthused.”

She took off her cover-up and exposed a tasteful young woman’s bikini; it was nothing too wild or conservative. Some of the girls and guys on the beach checked her out from a distance -- checking-out the competition I assumed. My impression was she was *classed* as a future babe with an honorable mention in the overall competition -- though with a warning label of *serious jail-bait, hands off*. I thought she looked great.

“Mel, where did you get the bikini? I’m envious.”

“Mom took me shopping, I picked it out with her approval. She didn’t want me to get something too skimpy. What did she say? ‘No postage stamp thongs!’ But, Mom agreed, I needed something fashionable like my girlfriends wear. She's pretty kewl about stuff like that.”

“Your mom was right about no Brazilian-style bikini. I think what you have on is classic, tasteful and sweetly sexy. What do you think, Eric?”

“That if she wasn’t my sister, and I didn’t already have a girl, I’d ask her out … if she was a little older.”

I snickered, “I can see you’re a politician’s son, Eric.”

Mel coated her front, arms and legs in sunscreen, as I coated her back. She helped Eric, and I was glad I wasn’t doing his back -- or any other part of him for that matter. Helping his sister was embarrassing enough. ~~I swear every time I see him he looks that much more handsome, not that Mel isn’t blooming nicely.~~ If I’d tried slathering lotion on Eric, or visa versa, I just knew where our hands were going to wander off to. That kind of temptation we did not need. I filed *that* idea away for future reference. ~~Me, Eric and lots of slippery lotion … might want to substitute olive oil or cocoa butter for the sunscreen in *that* scenario, sunscreen tastes awful. Stings the eyes too … Ooooh, chocolate sauce … strawberries … whipped cream … maple syrup! ~~

“My turn,” I said and removed my sundress right on the beach. Mel giggled, and Eric’s jaw dropped clean off. We had to take him to the emergency room and have it glued back on -- Ta-dum! Sorry about that. I had my suit on under the dress, duh! I can safely say my outfit impressed him.

“Joanie, that is … I mean … Wow!”

“This little old thing?" *Little* being the operative word. "Carrie picked it out for me, last July. It’s sooo out of fashion, soooo last year. What do *you* think, Eric? This, this is ugly, I think I’ll take it off right now and throw it away. I’d rather swim naked than wear something so unattractive.” It was that pink thong-style bikini. You know the one that barely covers anything and does it so well too. I moved my hands behind my back and pretended like I was untying it. ~~I’m a mean little kid, teasing him like that. In my defense, this girl's entitled to some fun, even if it's only my imagination that can enjoy it. Meanwhile the *real me* is the unlucky one who has to be celibate … okay, faithful … Damn, even my inner voice mocks me~~

Eric swallowed hard and choked out, “I … I … I need to use the bathroom. Excuse me.”

He ran off, and we girls giggled at his plight. I, we knew why he ran off, and it wasn't because he was upset or angry; it was because of … Okay I’d made him all hot and horny in a completely inappropriate time and place. If I was still a man, I would have been embarrassed to be seen in public *like* that. I noticed other men on the beach *adjusting* their suits, wrapping towels around their waists and so forth in response to my attire. I witnessed women giving me looks that would burn through armor plate. I was definitely NOT a welcome sight in the eyes of most of the women near me. And for those of you who think my swimsuit was scandalous, there were several other girls with equally skimpy suits or worse. Some of the Speedos the guys wore were damn near G-stings; it made for pleasant *scenery* from my viewpoint. Just because I'm not intending to *buy* anything doesn't mean I can't window-shop. It's not like I was in the changing room trying it on for siz …. HEY that's an idea! Whoa! Simmer down girl.

Some minutes later, Eric returned, looking none the worse for the experience. He was most apologetic. “Sorry I ran off, ladies. So what’s the plan then?"

“Mel, let’s walk around for a while until the lotion dries, then we can swim.”

“Watch our stuff, would you, Eric, please? We’ll take turns, okay?” I said and we started walking. We didn't even give him a chance to reply. Stinkers ain't we?

”I’m not being hard on your brother by wearing this, am I?” Hands up, everyone who thought that bit was dirty.

“It’s a little mean, but only because you both know he’s too young. I’m sure he enjoyed the show you put on.”

“So did I. Let’s strut our stuff, girl.” I put a little extra something into my walk. If my hip sway got any greater I would have fallen down. I glanced back, poor Eric was staring at us -- okay, me. I mouthed 'Forgive me?' then smiled, He looked a lot happier. ~~He must really love me to put up with this. I'd better do something nice for him.~~

* * * *

As we strolled the beach Mel helped finish off coating me with lotion; touching it up here and there. We'd done a good job of applying it earlier but you always miss something. Technically, as a regen, I didn’t need it, but I wanted to set a good example. I made sure she was well protected as well. With her light complexion sunscreen is a must. We walked around for a good twenty minutes or more, checking out the beach and nearby park.

“Joanie, um … about your bikini. That’s one of those postage-stamp suits Mom wouldn’t let me buy, not that I’d be comfortable in public with that little on. It looks good on you, though.”

“It’s not that tiny, there’s at least a book of stamps in this, if you include the straps.” I wasn’t lying, with a normal stamp at roughly one square inch, there was at least ten stamps worth of material covering me … barely. So a book is actually twenty stamps; I'm allowed a little artistic license. And come to think of it, 'less IS more' was never more true than with regards to a good looking woman in a bikini. Am I really that much of a show-off? Don't answer.

The park was slowly filling up, as it was a great day, so we took an occasional glance back at Eric and our stuff. We walked to the far end of the beach and slowly walked back. On the return leg, we were photographed a few times, but nothing too intrusive. The women were less hostile towards me, as I’d made no *play* for their men, but they gave the guys some interesting looks for staring at us -- mostly me, but us.

Mel is pretty, for a woman in her early bloom, and I’m not saying that just because we are friends. I have this feeling, a premonition, she will be a beauty in a few years and remain so for a long time, but then her mom is attractive, even as a pregnant woman in her mid thirties. I know that is not that old, but her dad, Senator Joe, is in terrific shape for sixty plus. If you want to see what a person will look like as they age, look at their parents; really, it works. Factor in Mel's father, Bob, who I think is a major hunk, and odds are that both Mel and Eric will be good-looking adults and stay that way for a long time.

When I could no longer feel any wetness from the sunscreen, I gave Mel the okay to swim, but only if we did it as pairs or if someone watched.

“I see your brother is waiting patiently for us. Have fun, Mel, but always as pairs in the water to be safe. If you do swim, grab me or Eric as your buddy. No swimming alone, okay? You want to go swim with your brother first? We were kinda rude to him earlier."

“Joanie, I like my brother, but I’d rather swim with you first.”

I walked up to Eric and pouted.

“Sorry, Eric. Mel and I are swimming first, so could you watch our stuff, pretty please? I know I've been rude and ignored you, but I plead being a blonde and doing it to please Mel. Don’t worry, you’ll get your … chance.” I fluttered my eyes at him and pouted.

"Oh … all right," He sounded a little disappointed but okay with it.

I smiled then walked away with that extra sway in my hips. Eric shook his head but was grinning. I may tease him, but he knows how I feel about him -- smart kid. How can he be so young yet so grown-up? I feel positively juvenile in his presence. HEY! You didn't need to agree with me so fast *dear* readers.

We waded out into the water; it was a little on the cool side, but much better than when I’d gone swimming during early April in Lake Wisconsin. I surprised Mel by swimming around her, doing surface dives and the like. I never once lost my tiny bikini top or bottom. It did have a rubbery lining that helped it to grip to my skin, so it’s *perch* wasn't as precarious as it appeared. There was a diving/sunning raft 30 yards out, and I just had to try it.

“Are you up to swimming out to the raft, Mel?”

“Sure, Joanie; I'm taking Junior Lifesaving class this summer, with the Red Cross.“

“You're really good then, Mel. Let’s swim side-by-side to be safe, though, 'k'? Buddy system and all that.”

~~When did I get so preachy? Ghods, I'm turning into my mother!~~

We swam, and though I was faster and had to hold back, she wasn’t bad. Heck, I'm an exemplar, so she was doing great, considering. We got there, and this trio of older girls wouldn’t let her on. A pair of lifeguards sat in a rowboat moored at the outer limit of the marked swimming area watching carefully.

“My friend and I want to dive off the raft; could you clear one of the ladders?” Mel asked and very politely too.

“Go away; this raft is reserved for mature girls, not a little kid like you,” said a girl who appeared to be 15 years old and 30 pounds overweight. Her feet dangled in the water, as she sat in the ladder. Though overweight, she was not unattractive; she looked fit, like a beginning weightlifter. She could do Mel serious harm, if she got aggressive. Another of the troublesome trio, a tall, gangly girl, sat tying up the second ladder, and the third, apparently oldest and best-looking girl sunned herself on the raft

“This is park property for everyone to use; it’s not right,” Mel said in protest. This was like my incident with the Omegas, but without Whateley.

“Go away, before we get rough.”

I’d had enough. “Miss, that is a decidedly antisocial and unhealthy attitude you have. It’s not like you ladies couldn’t share the raft with others. Why not do the right thing and avoid unnecessary complications? There is lots of room, after all.” I admit it was a tad pompous, okay a lot pompous, but she pissed me off !

“Why not butt out and save yourself a pounding?” the somewhat chubby girl replied.

“I’m only in town for a couple weeks to visit dear friends, and this is how you treat guests to your fine state?”

“You talk the line, but can you walk the line?” Chubby’s fellow, or is that sister, ladder holder said -- the gangly girl.

"I thought it was ‘Walk the walk,’ and ‘Talk the talk.’” Illiterate! “Hon, that is the sorriest excuse for ghetto-speak I have heard in years. What are you anyway, mostly German and Norwegian in ancestry? Quit trying to pretend you’re *gangsta*; it doesn’t wash. You? African-American? With your pale skin, button nose and dirty blonde hair? Give me a break!”

“Doesn’t matter; what matters is we were here first, Blondie.” The ghetto wanna-be said.

“Them’s fightin’ words! I’m not a blonde, I’m a strawberry blonde, there’s a big difference,” I drawled then giggled. “Mel, should I do the you-know-what on them?” I could see she was getting tired, what with the poor grip she had on the side of the raft.

“The you-know-what, Joanie?”

“A Prairie Du Chien special?” I replied and giggled.

“Oh, like you did for me on Labor Day? Yes, please! This I have to watch.”

“You’re gonna to do a…?” Chubby was silenced as I time stopped everyone on the raft and swam around to Mel. I unfroze her, and we climbed onto the raft from the side; I boosted her up-and-on, and then she helped by pulling me up. We could just reach across the raft and keep touching each other’s hand while getting close behind each of the *ladder* girls.

“Mel, don’t push. Don’t even touch the girl, just say hello.” Mel nodded and I unfroze everyone.

“Prairie Du …whatthehellwasthat?! Where did you …?”

“Hello,” Mel and I said, simultaneously, from right behind the girls, who each immediately panicked and fell in the water. Contestant number three decided discretion was the better part of valor and dove off, saying, “Um, sorry.”

Chubby was clearly the leader, as I had thought. She swam towards the boat at the outer swim markers and complained. “Those girls shoved us into the water. They are troublemakers and should be kicked out of here.”

“What can I do?” A male lifeguard replied.

“You’re a lifeguard! Kick them out and call the cops!”

“I don’t think you would want me to do that. The girls never touched you, and your group was hogging the raft. They asked to share with you, so there is nothing I can do.”

“We were there first, and they pushed.”

“I was watching, too, and the young ladies did nothing wrong.” The woman life guard raised her head and looked at the raft.

“Hi, Mel! I take it this is the young lady you were telling us about in Advanced Swim class all this winter.”

“Yeah, isn’t Joanie great? This is just like how she saved my life, Liz.”

“What the hell?” Ms. Chubby interjected.

“That’s not nice language, Miss. Please, remember this is a public place.”

“So this is your VIP student?” the male lifeguard asked Liz.

“Delighted to meet you, Mel, and you too, Ms. Brown I assume? That’s a neat *trick* you have there. If I hadn’t seen the video of your rescue of Mel last Labor Day I would never have believed it. Please enjoy your stay. Excuse us, but we need to return to duty,” the male lifeguard said.

“Ms. Brown? Who the fuck is she?”

I dove off the raft, almost losing my top, and swam up to Ms. Foul Mouth. “Hi, we weren’t properly introduced. My name is Joan Brown, I’m a student and teacher at a school for mutants out east. I sing professionally, but you can call me Joanie. The charming young lady you gave a hard time to is my good friend, Melissa Johnson; her daddy is the Governor of this State. Let’s start over and let bygones-be-bygones, if that is okay with you and your friends?”

“I … Crap, you really are her. You’re just making fun of us. Why would a rich bitch like you be interested in some girls from a trailer park?”

I let rich and that other word slide for the moment. “Because five teenage girls can have so much more fun than two, and Mel’s brother needs teasing. He’s good looking for fourteen. You’ll have a great time. Want to hang with us?”

“Leave us alone!”

“I’m sorry that’s how you feel. I'm not making fun of you. I bet, if you dropped the hostile act, we could have a lot of fun together. I'm a girl, just like you."

"G-g-go ….!"

"Sorry you feel that way, but the offer still stands. B’bye!”

I swam back to the raft. I was in a good mood and preferred to make friends, not enemies. I do admit to imagining my time-stopping them and stripping off their swimsuits. I’m not totally without a mean streak, and they were mean to Mel. Should anyone actually hurt her, I shudder to think what I might do.

* * * *

Mel and I took turns diving, until I realized we’d been ignoring her dear brother.

“Eric must think we forgot him. Let’s head in, Mel.”

We got to shore and didn’t see him or our towels.

“I can’t see my brother anywhere.”

“I think our stuff was closer to that group of girls over by that big rock, Mel.”

“I think I see him, Joanie.”

He was in the middle of a group of four girls who were either teasing him or coming on shamelessly. I shushed Mel and chose to listen, as we closed in on them.

“So … dump your sister and her friend. If *I* was on the beach, and four hot young women came up to me, I’d spend the day with them.” She spoke in a come-on voice, low and sexy, trying to seduce him.

I hated this girl at once.

“For one, it’s wrong to cut out without even the courtesy of telling them. And for another, my sister’s friend is our ride home.” He spoke matter-of-factly, while looking the girl in the eyes and not her chest -- and to be honest, she had a nice chest. Hey, I used to be a guy from "America's Dairy Land." Deal with it. My Eric's body language suggested he was uncomfortable but was trying to be polite,

From the angle we were approaching, we could see them, but they, Eric and the four girls, could not see us, thus his answers were completely honest. Hey! I trust him, but a girl needs to be reassured every once and a while, and I'm worth it … or will be.

Ghods, did I just write that? Um, where were we? Right …

~~Go, Eric!~~ Let's say I was more than *a little* pleased with how Eric was handling these slu … whor … skan … *forward young women". ~~See, that was easy, Joanie. You didn't once call those f***ing bitches a bad name.~~

“We have a car. Shelly here got her license this April. My parents are out of town for the week. Angie here scored a bottle of her parent’s Jack Daniels, and I have some other fun *stuff*. Four eager babes with their own car, place, drugs and alcohol -- it’s a boy's fantasy. Where do you live?”

I really hated this girl.

“Uh, Terrace Hill.” He sounded very uncomfortable but stayed polite. They were placing him in an awkward situation. Part of me wanted to intervene but most of me wanted to see how this played out. Yes, "I've" got issues. So sue me!

“I knew it, girls; this is the Governor’s son -- Eric, isn’t it? You’re better looking in person than in your photographs, and you were good looking in those. I bet you’re a virgin; all that press scrutiny. We can help *fix* that. Wanna party with some sexy babes, handsome?”

I really, really hated this girl. I was *this* shy of … I took a deep breath then looked at my friend. Mel appeared conflicted, amused at her brother's embarrassment but angry as well. She did not like these girls, period. My opinion of the girls was far lower; my inner bitch was seething. I put my hand on her shoulder and shook my head at her. She nodded back. We waited.

Eric visibly straightened, then spoke in a steady, deliberate tone. “I’m flattered, but no. And it’s not because I’m the Governor’s son. I’m too young to drink, and I’m far too young to be having sex -- not that it isn’t tempting. I’m not even going to comment on the offer of drugs, other than that’s your choice, not mine, ladies. I'm here with my sister and her best friend. I’m responsible for them both, and her friend is my friend too. It wouldn’t be right to run out on them. My sister looks up to me, and her friend …I … I don’t ever want to disappoint either of them, ever.” He smiled, as he finished, still looking them in the eyes.

~~Words like that will get you a big reward someday, Lover.~~ I could hardly contain myself. I was torn between pounding the four bit**'s faces and screwing Eric senseless. Anger and lust are a volatile mix.

Mel's reaction was more subdued, but I could see she was pleased with her brother.

“Last chance, guy. Where are you going to find such good looking girls who are interested in having a good time with you? Why moon over some girl who won’t put out when you can have real women. I can see part of you wants it.”

Eric would have to be a corpse not to have some reaction to four girls in wet swimsuits. I had to admit they were attractive, particularly the one doing the talking. She had to be a cheerleader; she had that bouncy, perky, self-confident -- almost arrogant -- attitude and the looks to go with it. I really, really, really hated this girl.

“I’m sorry, I can’t. It wouldn’t be right. I know this sounds corny, but she is a wonderful girl, and I’m trying to prove I’m worthy of her … friendship.” The way he said ‘friendship’ translated as ‘love’ to my ears. I melted inside.

~~Hon, you just proved it. Damn, if you were only eighteen.~~

Any thoughts I had of beating the crap out of that blatant hussy was overwhelmed by my, um, *admiration* for Eric's actions. It was a good thing my swimsuit was still wet from swimming; I was THAT aroused. I would have jumped his bones there and then if not for my pesky conscience, damn it !

“Think of what you’re turning down!”

“I think he’ll do just fine with us, won’t he, Mel?” Timing is everything, and I wasn’t going to waste this gift.

“And you are…? Crap!”

“You’re the second person to tell me that today. I might have sand on my feet, but I am quite clean otherwise, I assure you.” Eric stared at me, a smile growing on his face. Mel giggled. I think her brother’s stock doubled in her mind today. It had tripled in mine.

“Have the ladies here been giving you a *hard* time, Eric? Sorry, that was naughty. Please forgive me? Mel and I were having too much fun, and I forgot. Mel, your brother deserves something for being so nice.”

I turned and whispered to her. She kissed her brother, and I gave him a hug. Hey, we were in public. The four girls stared at us looking confused.

“You didn’t know, so I’ll forgive you this time. I’m rather fond of Eric and Mel, and I don’t like seeing them hurt. Eric is also seriously underage; he’s fourteen -- you know, jail-bait? So back off.”

“You act like he’s your boyfriend?!”

“He’s a boy, and he’s my friend, as is his sister, so in that sense they are my boy … friend and my girl … friend.” Can I lie or can I lie? I gave both Mel and Eric a quick, one-armed hug. “I’ll give you ladies this, you have good taste in men. Eric is an exceptional young man; it’s a privilege to be his friend. I expect he will be a even more remarkable adult. It's a pity; if you cleaned up your acts, you'd have a chance at someone like him. You all certainly have the looks for it. You just need the *insides* to match. Looks fade eventually, but character shines on. Excuse us, ladies. We need to go.”

Yeah, I know I was dancing with the devil there, all but shouting "Eric is my lover!". Sometimes you just have to … Yeah, I'm an idiot, a love struck one at that.

“Eric! Heel!” Eric moved next to me and held stock still. He looked at me, and I almost broke up as did he. "Come." He walked by my side to the car. It was very hard not to laugh; he had read me so well. Mel giggled which did not help our control at all. ~~Oooh, and he’s house-trained!~~

See how mature I've become? How confident I am as a woman? I defused the situation calmly and rationally, not a hint of jealousy … And if I every catch those skanky bitches hitting on him again, I'll … Note to self: better edit that bit out, later.

* * * *

It was early afternoon, and I felt badly that Eric never got to swim. I wanted to make it up to him. So did Mel; she whispered as much in my ear. Now we all know the saying: 'The quickest way to a man’s heart is though his stomach' … Alright, alright! *Stimulating* a different part of a male’s anatomy gets his attention faster, but I’m talking about his brain. What did you think I was thinking about? Okay, that WOULD work, but remember he’s well under eighteen, and Joanie is no fool. Food it would have to be -- that and a good private cuddle later on. At this stage of the game, that is as racy as our relationship dare get.

We packed up and loaded our gear back in my crew cab. Mel spread out in the back, and Eric stretched out his long sexy legs in the front passenger seat. Did I say sexy legs? Damn it, he has sexy legs; not like I, as a woman, have sexy legs. I mean sexy for a guy; sexy like I am attracted to them. Let me explain. I doubt he’ll ever have one of those muscle-bound, body-builder physiques, and am I glad he won’t. If he is like his dad, he will be tall and athletic, but more like a runner with a firm butt and strong sexy legs. Damn, there are those legs again -- weird. A trim, fit torso, handsome face and eyes that make me want to be his and only his. I want to worship him; I want to drink his … Oooookay, girl, this is getting a tad graphic and years ahead of reality. Calm down … where was I? … He has these sexy legs … Aaaaaah!

I was driving out of the parking lot. “Eric, I’m sorry I forgot, and you never got to swim. That was very selfish of me.” I pouted and acted ever so sorry. I meant it too, mostly. Maybe I AM an actress?

“It’s okay. I had a good time watching the pretty women in sexy swimsuits having fun.”

“Who were they, the damned bitches? I’ll scratch their eyes out!” I shouted.

“I meant you and Mel. There were lots of attractive girls, I admit, but I’m responsible for my pretty sister’s safety -- and you are very pretty, Mel. And no one was anywhere near as hot as you, Joanie.” He was most apologetic. If I had been him I might have gotten some payback. I might have pointed back to one of those skanks … um forward girls, and said she was hot. Or could have pointed at some petite girl with short black hair and A cups, saying how busty blondes were so common. Eric was too much a gentleman for that.

I, however, snickered and quickly pulled off the road as that progressed to a full-out laugh, no way I could drive. “Eric, if you saw the look on your face.” The poor young man looked confused and hurt.

"You mean this was all a joke? That everything we've ever done is just some game for you? The big famous star finds some Iowa hick to make fun of? Someone to use and abuse then dump. I thought you liked me, even loved me, I love you!" He was red faced and crying,

Mel was shocked, I … I was …

~~Oh SHIT! ~~

"I was just having some fun, NO I mean it was all in fun … Crap, I mean …. Oh hell I love you damn it Eric I was just being silly I never meant to hurt …

"What's so freakn' funny all of a sudden?

Eric was laughing uncontrollably. Mel looked at him and she started in.

"I've been had? This was all a-a-a …?" *I* broke up.

"G-g-gotcha!"

Sometime later we'd calmed down to where we could look at each other and not break up.

"I get the message, ease up on the teasing."

"Don't stop being you, I love you as you are but sometimes …"

" …I go too far. Hear you loud and clear. Forgive me?"

He nodded and grinned. "I promise, Eric. I'll back off anytime it starts to bother you. I'll tell you this and it's the Ghod's honest truth. I’m so sorry I couldn’t tell those girls we are a couple. It kills me to have to lie about you. I’d give anything to have told them ‘Back off bitches, this man is MINE!’.” I growled the last bit and Mel laughed.

He looked me in the eyes. “It’s okay; I understand, what with me being so young and everything, we, and particularly you, have to be careful. I know you love me, and that’s enough.” He looked a little disappointed despite putting on a brave face. I was proud he was taking it so maturely. I knew he was hurting; I was hurting too.

“Here, let Doctor Joan cure what’s ailing you.” We were on a quiet road, and inside my truck, so I took a chance.

“Mel, keep a lookout.”

I reached over, pulled him to me, and kissed him square on the lips, hard. After thirty seconds or so, I figured I’d melted his brain to the constancy of maple syrup. The silly grin on his face, when I broke away, told me I’d succeeded.

Problem was *I* didn't want to stop … If his brain was maple syrup, mine was marshmallow cream. I kissed him again savoring him, drinking in his every smell, taste, texture. My heart started racing, I felt flushed, my nipples … I ached for him, I burned, I … NOW, I wanted him NOW. My legs moved apart, I felt the hot wetness between. I let go of him so I could rip off my …

~~WHAT AM I DOING?~~

"Forgive me I almost … I'm sorry, Eric. The trip is a bad idea. If I can't last half a day in your presence, how will I …"

"Joanie, I've seen Mom and Dad kiss longer than that. You both stopped, right?

"Huh, Mel?"

"You're new to being a girl, you probably aren't used to the feelings. You're overreacting. I mean you liked kissing Eric -- liked it a lot; so did he -- but you stopped."

"We did, didn't we, Eric. Were you uncomfortable? Was I coming on too strong?"

"It was fun, lots of fun, but I never felt uncomfortable. We could have done that for hours!"

"Now you're being silly. Eric. How would we eat?"

"I think you are right, Mel. I was just being overemotional. But you do know to tell us when Eric and I get out of line?"

"Sure, but you weren't … much."

"YOU!"

* * * *

It was well past noon. “Let’s go get something to eat. Since I spent so much time with Mel at the beach, why don’t you pick the place, Eric. Your favorite pizza, burger, whatever place; simple or fancy, I don’t care.” And I didn’t -- care that is. Not after that kiss; it cheered me up no end. Cheered me, then confused me, scared me, but in the end cheered me.

* * * *

Eric directed us to a local fast-food place; one of those so common years ago and all but killed off by the mega chains today. It reminded me of Trudy’s, a West Allis favorite of my parents and of mine back when I was a little boy. They even had lots of neon lights and uniformed carhops on roller-skates -- roller-blades now, actually -- just like Trudy’s had back in the sixties.

“They have good burgers, so-so fries, excellent pizza, and the greatest Chicago-style hot dogs. They’re so big, one is a meal even for Dad. Mom gets them on occasion and takes the leftovers home for later. Don’t feel bad if you don’t finish; sometimes I can’t.”

I hesitated. A good *dog* would hit the spot, but the way I ate that last one in the courthouse.… “Okay, Eric, I’ll try your favorite.”

~~I can do this; I just have to use a little restraint. It’s not like I have some oral fixation regarding a certain male appendage. I am a sensual woman, but I am not a cheap slut.~~

Who said, "She lies to herself a lot, doesn't she?" I'm waiting!

That's it, funny boy, bring it on!

I'm a what?! I am not a slut! Sometimes the urges are so strong but I don't … I would never cheat on … I mean, I'm monogamous.

Oh hell! You try being permanently 17, and see if you aren’t all hot and bothered 24/7/365 -- 366 in a leap-year.)

A girl-next-door type rolled up to my truck. “And what would you like to order?” She glanced at me, smiled, then looked down at her order pad.

They still used the little green paper waitress pads here, for authenticity. They could have used wireless PDAs and transmitted directly back to the kitchen, but where’s the fun in that? This way the patrons got to see athletic young women, and a few buff guys, skating back and forth in their tight fitting uniforms placing and delivering the orders. Oh my, yes!

“This is my first time here, but my friend Eric says you have great Chicago-style dogs. Three Chicago Dogs with the works, I think, and root beers or Cokes?”

“I’d get the root beer. They have the old-fashioned kind in those heavy frosted glass mugs.”

“You too, Mel?”

“Yes, Joanie.”

“Okay, that’s three Chicago’s with the works and three large root beers in the glass mugs.”

“That sounds fine.”

“That will be,” she added things quickly on a pad, “Fifteen fifty-six including tax.”

“Here’s twenty,” I said, as I handed a ten and a five to her. She looked at me, I mean REALLY looked at me, and her face went pale. I was afraid she’d faint, but she caught herself in time. “Y-y-yes, Ma’am, I mean, Joanie. I’ll b-bring your change with your order.” She rolled away awkwardly, almost stumbling a couple times.

“She seems to have recognized you.” Mel said nonchalantly. There was a series of LOUD screeches coming from the order windows and her fellow carhops. They all rolled over towards my truck to get a better look. They gave her excited pats on the back and returned to work.

She soon rolled up to my window. “Sorry, Ms. Joanie, they didn’t believe me. Gotta go, your order should be done soon.”

“No biggie,” I called back to her. For the eagle eyed among you., Yes I DID give her only fifteen dollars despite telling her I gave her twenty. Strange, I seem to have that effect on people. You don't think blond is contagious, do you?

BTW, I gave her an additional twenty when she brought the food so I didn't shortchange her, not for long anyway. And after dealing with me she EARNED that tip.

* * * *

To be continued and soon. No really. Would I lie?

John in Wauwatosa

P.S. DON'T answer that!