Chapter 1

Greetings readers, welcome to my Bildungsroman journal. My name is Janus Paul Pulaski III, but everyone calls me Johnny. My grandfather uses Janus, my father took Paul. I became Johnny because my two-year older sister hung the moniker on me. I am a high school senior, and I just turned seventeen.

This story is a writing assignment for senior Honors English. The idea, according to Miss McElroy, is to write our life story ‘stream of consciousness,’ then edit and rewrite it later. I like the idea because, unlike many of my contemporaries, I have lived what I consider an interesting life. Of course that’s just my opinion, other people might be bored to oblivion by my story.

“Let your recollections flow onto the paper without regard to content,” she said.

Okay, Miss Mac! Just remember, you asked for this!

Before I can tell you about me, I need to tell you about my family. They, especially my grandfather, are amazing.

See, my grandfather, Janus Paul Pulaski, Senior, was born near Krakow, Poland in 1930. His father was a farmer tilling nine acres of beets, onions and carrots. Papa J remembers that his family was poor, but close-knit and happy. All that changed in the autumn of 1939, when Nazi Germany invaded Poland from the west and Russia poured in from the east. The invading forces quickly routed the Polish Army, and the conquerors partitioned the country. The Krakow region became part of the German protectorate under the rule of a despot named Hans Frank. My grandfather’s family continued to farm their land, relatively undisturbed until 1941, when Germany invaded Russia. Shortly after, drunken German soldiers raided the Pulaski farm in November of 1941 - Janus believes they were after liquor and women - my grandfather, along with his older brother Viktor and his older sister Katrina managed to escape into the foothills. The farm was burned and their parents were killed.

Janus, Viktor, and Katrina made their way further into the Carpathian Mountains where they eventually joined a Polish resistance unit of the Free Polish Army. At the age of eleven, my grandfather became a soldier. Sixteen-year-old Viktor was killed in a failed attack on a troop train in 1942. Katrina died of pneumonia in the harsh winter of 1943. My grandfather fought on.

In 1945, my grandfather’s guerrilla band fled westward in front of the advancing Russians. Grandfather Janus ended up in a displaced persons camp in the American sector of Germany. My grandfather refused repatriation to a communist Poland. Instead, he traveled to France, where, in 1947, he enlisted in the French Foreign Legion. He was seventeen years old.

Janus Pulaski enlisted in the Legion under his own name and, ironically, served with some of the same former German soldiers he fought against in Poland. Grandfather spent six years in the Legion, serving with the 2nd and 5th Foreign Parachute Regiments in Indo-China and Algeria.

In 1953, Papa Janus immigrated to the United States. It took him a year to learn enough English to enlist in the US Army. Because of his years of prior military experience, and his ability to speak several foreign languages, he was chosen for Special Forces training and assigned to the 10th Special Forces Group in Bad Tolz, Germany. In 1961 he was medically retired because of wounds sustained during his second combat tour in Vietnam. He retired as a Sergeant First Class at the age of 31. All told, he had spent twenty years in someone’s army.

My grandfather settled in Milwaukee, Wisconsin, when he retired, lured to the city by its large and active Polish community. Trained as a combat engineer, he started working in the construction industry. It took him less than two years to become a construction superintendent supervising commercial building construction. In 1963 he met, fell in love with and married my grandmother, Nadia.

Nadia Kaminski was second generation, Polish American. Descended from Polish Royalty, she could trace her family back to King Kazimierz, King of Poland from 1447-1492. Nadia was the perfect wife for Janus Pulaski. She polished up his rough edges and supported him in all his endeavors. Janus and Nadia had two sons, Viktor, born in 1964 and my father, Janus Paul, Junior, born a year and later.

My father grew up in a happy home, Nana Nadia made sure of that. My father and his brother, my Uncle Viktor, were complete opposites. Viktor was gregarious, outgoing and ambitious, my father was quiet, contemplative and happiest when working on something mechanical. Uncle Viktor was tall and slim, with aristocratic features. Victor seriously exploited the royal heritage passed down from my grandmother. He played it up in college as a means of connecting with the right crowd. After breezing through college, his growing list of connections landed him a job as a stock analyst in Chicago. Within a year he married his first heiress.

My dad was tall as well, but he had the heavily muscled build of my grandfather. After high school, my father eschewed college in favor of a full-time job as an auto mechanic. At twenty he had already earned a following for the small shop my grandfather helped him open. One July day in 1985, Sonia Krupchek pulled into Pulaski’s Auto Repair with a badly overheating engine. By the time my dad had finished replacing a split radiator hose on her Honda Accord, she had informed my grandfather that his son was going to be her husband and the father of her children. Janus Senior shook his head in wonder as the prim looking young woman left the garage. She seemed smart enough but with her dark blonde hair in a tight bun and her glasses perched on the tip of her nose, she seemed hardly the type to snag his son.

That was the last time my grandfather ever doubted anything my mother said. That afternoon at five, the Accord pulled back into the garage. He watched in wonder as the totally transformed woman took about five minutes to bewitch his son.

Sonia Krupchek was twenty-four years old when she met the Pulaskis. She was a graduate student at Marquette University, working towards a doctoral degree in physics. Yep, my mom is one smart woman. My grandfather was more than pleased that Sonia was attending a Jesuit school, you see, my grandparents were very devout Roman Catholics. Heck, you’d have to go to the Vatican to find their equals. Why my mom zeroed in on my dad is family lore. Dad claims that it was because he was irresistible. Mom says it was because he didn’t talk much. Whatever their reasons, they were meant for each other.

Anyway, Paul and Sonia were married in 1986. Mom finished her dissertation that summer and accepted a job with the National Aeronautics and Space Administration. She was pregnant with my sister, Katrina, when they made the move from Milwaukee to Florida.

They decided to settle in Palmdale, a small town twenty-five miles north of the Kennedy Space Center. Janus Senior and Nadia sold everything they owned and moved down, too. No way were they going to be separated from their grandchildren. Future grandchildren were also the reason they gave for subsidizing a four bedroom, three-bath house in a nice neighborhood for my parents. My grandparents purchased a smaller house about a mile away.

Katrina Maria Pulaski was born in June of 1987. From the minute she departed the womb everyone knew she was something special. I swear, Katrina was born with a plan for her entire life mapped out in her head. By the time I was born in November of 1989, Katrina was talking, walking and reading. My parental units must have used up all the good genetic material making Katrina because I didn’t turn out nearly as well.

Hmm, as I read back over this I noticed I forgot a few family members. I also have maternal grandparents, Gustav and Sylvia Krupchek. The elder Krupcheks are both professors at The University of Wisconsin at Milwaukee. Oh, and did I mention they were both hippies? Yep, card carrying throwbacks to the sixties era. Right down to their orange and white Volkswagen microbus with about a hundred Grateful Dead stickers in the rear window. Gus and Syl (even Mom calls them that) bought a condo on the beach in a clothing optional building. They visit every summer for at least two months. On the surface, you’d think that Janus Senior and my mom’s folks would be anathema to each other. After all, politically, Papa J is slightly to the right of Attila the Hun. But it’s not like that at all, mainly because my mother and father laid the law down to both sets of grandparents early on.

Now seems a good time to talk about my father. At first blush, Paul Pulaski seems as if he were the most ordinary guy in the family. Not so. Not so by a long shot. I’ll tell you right now, flat out, my dad is my hero. Sure, he doesn’t say much, but when he does talk, people listen. He has very little formal education, yet he is as smart as my mother in a lot of ways. Ask anyone who has ever met him, and they’ll all tell you, “Paul Pulaski is the most honest man I’ve ever met.” The longest speech I ever heard my father make was when I was twelve. I was in awe of how everyone looked up to him, so I asked him why.

He said, “Don’t lie, don’t cheat, don’t steal, and don’t ever quit. Treat everyone with respect until they stop deserving it. Never hit a woman or a child. Your integrity is the only thing that can’t be taken away from you. To lose it, you have to give it away.”

So, now that you’ve met my family, it’s time for my story. Everything I’m about to tell you is true to the best of my recollection.

My life up until the start of the ninth grade was normal enough to bore you to tears. I have brown hair and hazel eyes, I’m not movie star handsome but at least my features fit my face. I was a happy kid, by and large, all through grade school and junior high. I earned good grades, had lots of friends, and didn’t have a care in the world. Man, oh man, did that ever change once I started high school. Ninth grade was my personal hell. The main reason my freshman year sucked so badly was because I hadn’t started puberty yet. I was the classic loser: scrawny, hairless and had a dick the size of a Vienna sausage. My slow development was compounded by my age. I was born on November first and the year I started kindergarten the first of November was the cutoff for starting school. I was four when I started school and forever after I was the youngest person in my class. My plight was not helped by my sister. Katrina was two grades ahead of me was effortlessly shattering every sports and academics record in the school. Katrina was six feet tall and a slim hundred and thirty-five pounds. I was a puny five foot six and one thirty. It was humiliating. My only refuge was my schoolwork.

After Christmas break, just as I was resigning myself to a life as a eunuch, I sprouted my first pube. Yes! I was as proud of that one hair as one boy could ever be. By the end of February, I’d grown a nice little patch and had my first wet dream. Soon after that I discovered the joy of whacking off. For the next couple of months one of my hands was pretty much permanently attached to my dick. I became an expert wanker. I was so good I could change hands and gain a stroke! I was perpetually hard, regardless of how many times I choked that thing into submission.

It was not just my hormones and pubic hair growing either. All of the sudden my body hit a growth spurt and by March I was five-eight and one-fifty. Puberty that had eluded me for so long had arrived with a vengeance. Girls started to notice me about then but I was so shy around them I couldn’t marshal a coherent sentence if my life depended on it. After gurgling and mumbling like an idiot in front of Marcie Winters, a junior varsity cheerleader that I adored, I decided to ask my dad for some advice.

That evening when Dad came in from work, I buttonholed him in the garage. Dad heard me out then shook his head sadly.

“Johnny, I’m not the person you need helping you. Your mom is the only woman I ever seriously dated.”

At my crestfallen look he put his big meaty hand on my shoulder.

“I think the person you need to talk to is your Uncle Vik. If anyone knows how to talk to women, it’s gotta be him.”

Duh, Uncle Vik, of course! Viktor Pulaski could talk a hungry dog off of a meat truck. Vik was currently married to heiress number three, this one a billionaire thanks to breakfast foods and feminine hygiene products. Last we heard, Viktor and Alexandra were in Poland. Viktor had talked Alexandra into helping him regain my grandmother’s legacy. It cost ten million Euros in bribes to reestablish the Kaminski title and another fifteen million more to purchase part of the original land holdings including a forty-four-room castle. The new Count and Countess were in the process of restoring the ancestral manor in preparation for my grandparents visiting there that upcoming summer.

I called Uncle Vik the next day right after school. After some chitchat about the family, I got to the point. Uncle Vik chuckled when I finished my lament.

“Johnny, I don’t think I’ll be able to help you much because the only advice I can give you is: dazzle them with brilliance or baffle them with bullshit. Basically, that’s all I do and, if you are anything like you father, that won’t be your style. I think what you need is a female’s prospective, maybe Katrina can help you out.”

I mumbled my thanks, trying hard to mask my disappointment. Katrina is the absolute last person in the world I’d ask for help. I felt geeky enough without my sister adding her two cents worth. Besides, my sister was the object of some spectacular jerk-off sessions so it might be difficult for us to talk when all my blood would be south of the border.

Now wait a minute - just because I choked my chicken thinking about my sister naked doesn’t make me a pervert. My sister, wet from the shower, with a too small towel wrapped around her tall lanky body would give a medical cadaver a woody. I used to position my self at my door nearly every morning for a glimpse of her as she strolled from the bathroom to her bedroom. Then I would jump in the shower and flog my log thinking about the towel dropping. You have to admit that as fantasies go, that one was pretty tame. It only occurred to me as I write this that she might have made those trips for my benefit. After all, I’m sure she owned a bathrobe, so it wasn’t necessary for her to wear a towel just big enough to cover her butt cheeks every morning.

So anyway, back to my problem. Uncle Vik’s suggestion had merit. All I needed was a potential confidant. I wracked my brain thinking of candidates. I went through Katrina’s friends, the few girls I knew and family friends. None of them seemed to fit my requirements. Then, with epiphanous suddenness, it hit me: Mrs. Wentworth.

The Wentworths moved into the neighborhood when I was twelve. They lived on the next street over and a block north of my house. That meant they lived in my lawn mowing territory. Stan Hoffman, Buddy O’Neil, Richie Caldwell and I divided the subdivision up the year before so we wouldn’t be competing for the same jobs. Of course I was the only one of us that actually looked for jobs. The others guys received fat allowances so mowing was a lark for them. I on the other hand was expected to work if I wanted more than the five spot I received each week for allowance. There were not any lazy Pulaskis!

So I introduced myself to the Wentworths on the day they moved in and gave them my sales pitch. I had to be creative to compete with the professional lawn services, especially in pricing.

Jesse Wentworth was a mean looking dude with a shaved head, bulging muscles and a cobra tattoo on his neck. He wasn’t very tall and appeared to be in his early thirties, probably ten years older than his wife. Leah Wentworth was just the opposite of her husband. She was sweet and soft spoken, about five foot five and slightly over weight. Leah was one of those women just on the edge of being pretty. Oh, don’t get me wrong, she wasn’t a bowser or anything. It’s just that her features sorta didn’t go together, know what I mean? Her nose was a bit large for her face, her eyebrows were thick and bushy, she wore unstylish glasses, and her dirty blonde hair was chopped haphazardly short. Like I said, she was sweet though, and always seemed to enjoy talking to me. I learned a lot more about Leah as time passed, I’ll share what I learned with you later.

Before the Wentworths moved into the house, an older couple named Schofield lived there. The Schofields were snowbirds, spending the winter in Palmdale and the summer is Connecticut. The Schofields had been about my best customers. I was really sad when I found out they had been killed in a car wreck. Mrs. Wentworth gave me a cold soda when I collected for my first mowing. She sat on the porch with me chatting while I drank the soda. I found out that the Schofields had been her parents.

Jesse Wentworth was an asshole, plain and simple. Every other word out of his mouth was an ‘F’ bomb and he treated everyone like shit. A little over a year after they moved in, Jesse was busted running a methamphetamine lab in a mobile home he had rented. He was caught red-handed with the drugs, a big wad of cash and a sawed off shotgun. Nine months later Jesse received the mandatory fifteen-year maximum prison sentence, no time off for good behavior, no early release. I ended up with a nice little gig with Mrs. Wentworth, mowing and keeping up with the little bit of outside maintenance her house needed.

All righty then! I had my candidate picked, now all I needed was enough courage to ask her to advise me. Surprisingly, the next Saturday that I went to mow her lawn, that little problem solved itself, sort of. I remember the day was warm and windy for March. I had worked up a pretty good sweat mowing. I rang Mrs. Wentworth’s doorbell, looking forward to that frosty Coca-Cola. Mrs. Wentworth answered the door.

“Hey, Johnny, come on in, it’s too windy to sit on the porch.”

I followed her into the house. It was the first time I’d ever been inside. As we made our way to the kitchen I glanced into a room off to the side of the family room. The room had a universal weight machine, a bowflex and some free weights resting in wooden racks. I stopped dead in my tracks.

“Wow, Mrs. W! That’s a nice setup.”

She nodded, “Jesse was fanatical about working out. I guess he has plenty of time for it now.”

She stopped talking for a few seconds and seemed to be thinking. Then her smile got bigger and she said, “I’ll make a deal with you, Johnny. You can use this stuff anytime you want, as long as you teach me how to use it and allow me to workout with you. I need to lose thirty pounds while I’m still young enough to do it.”

“Gosh yes, Mrs. W! You have a deal,” I said sticking out my hand for her to shake.

She clasped both of my hands in both of hers, “We have a deal if you call me Leah,” she amended.

Oh, yeah. That’ll work, I thought. Not only will we be together so I can ask her stuff, but I also get to use the weight equipment. We walked into the kitchen and had a glass of iced tea while we developed a plan for our self-improvement. I was in charge of finding exercises for each of us on the Net, and for developing our routines. Leah was going to study up on diet and nutrition, low calorie for her, lots of protein for me. We agreed to meet again after school on Monday and get started.

On the following Monday we started working out using Jesse’s exercise equipment, and a few pages of exercises I downloaded from the Internet. Leah had a portfolio of diet and nutrition information for each of us. She went way past me in the info-gathering department. It took us about thirty minutes to complete our workouts, then Leah gave me a short class on how I could build muscle without steroids. I have to say (and this is important for what happens later) that when Leah Wentworth decided to do something, she did it to the hilt. Leah taught me the difference between being involved in something as opposed to being committed to it.

“Think about the breakfast you had this morning, Johnny,” she said. “The chicken that provided your eggs was involved, the pig that provided the bacon was committed.”

By the end of our first week, she had purged her house of anything containing sugar or fat, dieting with the discipline of a Franciscan monk.

Over the next few months Leah gradually opened up and told me about herself. Hers was an all to common story of marrying an abusive jerk then sticking by him. Her misshapen nose and chipped front teeth were presents from Jesse. Jesse had damaged her self-esteem even more than her face.

I was bench-pressing two hundred-fifty pounds for the tenth rep, when I felt her cool fingers slide into the leg opening of my shorts. My prick uncoiled from its slumber until it was a gleaming ivory monolith. Her eyes widen in surprise when I was fully erect. “I didn’t know you were so big, Johnny,” she said, “I‘ve got to have you in me now.”

Well, that’s the way it was in my fantasies, anyway. The reality was that Leah and I became good friends. We talked about every subject under the sun and encouraged each other during our workouts. Yes, she told me what she, as a woman, liked or disliked, although she added the caveat that she was a hopeless romantic. In return, I answered her questions about what type of female appealed to me, and why. By the end of May, Leah had lost twenty-five pounds and I was up to five-nine and one hundred sixty-five. Heck, I even had a little six-pack action developing on my abs. Leah and I were congratulating each other after our weekly weigh in when Leah floored me by saying.

“Johnny, my breasts have shrunk to nothing. No matter how much I work out they’ll never get any bigger.” Jeeze, she sounded sad.

Leah always wore sweat pants and a loose sweatshirt. The only change in her appearance I had noticed was that her face was slimmer. Where I pulled what I told her next from, I’ll never know.

“Leah, you have the talent, the money, and the ability to be or do most anything you want. If you want bigger breasts, buy them. I think it’s time you started doing things for you.”

Leah looked at me oddly, and her eyes slitted like a cat’s. I knew that look by now. What I’d said was making her think. Well, dammit, it was true. Leah was very bright and she had a major trust fund from her parents that had been shielded from Jesse. I cracked up when she told me that while she was married to Jesse she only received an amount from the trust fund equal to what Jesse made in salary each month. Jesse had to work even though his wife was worth several million dollars.

Two weeks after my little self-improvement speech, Leah picked up the conversation again.

‘Johnny, I’ve been thinking about what you said a while ago, you know, about doing some things for me. I decided you were right. Then I had a bout of conscience about being greedy. I guess residual Jesse is still messing with my head.”

When I nodded my understanding, she rushed on, “ So, I’ve applied for admission at UCF (University of Central Florida). I’m going to do the whole dorm experience and everything. Also, I’m leaving for a spa for a couple of months before classes start. I want it to be ‘a new me’ making a fresh start.”

“I’m happy for you Leah, you deserve something good for a change.”

“Yeah, well remember you said that because when you turn fifteen and can date. I want to be the first girl you take out. You owe me that, Johnny, and you are the only man I trust.”

Her declaration caught me by surprise, but on reflection it made sense to me. Taking out Leah would allow me a date with someone I was comfortable with, plus, hopefully she wouldn’t laugh at my social ineptness. Of course for Leah, I was that safe date experience she probably needed before she actually sought any relationships with guys her own age. I stuck out my hand.

"Deal,” I said.

I got my buds Stan Hoffman and Richie Caldwell to start working out with me and Jesse’s equipment went into Stan’s garage. Stan, Richie, Buddy O’Neill, and I had been hanging together since the third grade. We swapped around being best friends, but we always hung out together. Last year Buddy moved to Texas so we were down to three. My friendship with Stan and Richie was strained when they matured so much earlier than I did. I had shied away from being around them because I was ashamed of my physical self. Not any more though, and my friends were glad to have me back.

I didn’t go to Stan and Richie for advice about women because I’d been listening to their bull about sex for years. Both of them had tales of semi-conquests and fleeting liaisons that they were always eager to share. Stan had the added benefit of an older brother who told him the ropes. Both of my friends thought my sister was a goddess. Stan and Richie both had younger sisters.

You can’t believe how happy I was that I grew so much. Heck even the Moose (my nickname for my sister, she called me Runt) commented on how I wasn’t such a shrimp any more.

So about here I need to put in a sidebar about my sister. I was as much in awe of Katrina as everyone else. The woman was superhuman. She was a cinch for valedictorian, already had a perfect 1600 SAT score from her junior year and was the captain of the volleyball and soccer teams. Yet, despite all her successes she was a nice, down-to-earth, pretty high school senior. During the summer between junior and senior year college recruiters courted her in droves even though she made it plain that she was going to the Air Force Academy if offered an appointment. It wasn’t bad having her for a sister, although like I said, until I started growing I was the butt of some cruel ribbing. None of that was the Moose’s fault though. She stuck up for me when she needed to, and let me fall on my face when it was to my benefit.

We talked some, she and I, but we were never confidants. Katrina was a private person and like I said, so very focused on what she wanted from life. We didn’t have much in common until I started playing high school sports. I don’t think I’ll ever rise to the level of maturity or whatever that I’ll need in order to deal with Katrina as an equal.

Katrina had an active social life to go along with everything else. She dated a wide variety of guys from college grad students on down. She never went steady with one guy though. She told me once, right after I started dating, that she loved sex in any shape, form, or fashion. She also said that, from a purely mechanical standpoint, she was the best she’d ever had. Incredible.

Chapter 2

Football tryouts started the first of August, ten days before school started. My ass was the second one in line at sign up. Coach Boyette took my application and did a double take at how I’d grown.

“Them balls finally dropped, huh, Pulaski? ’Bout damned time.”

The coach and I had a relationship from last year when I was riding the bench on the Junior Varsity. Because I was a quick study with a good memory, I became the coach’s walking playbook. Since his personal playbook ran to 225 plays, I was in demand.

“Gimme something tricky that’ll get a first down on the ground,” he’d say.

“Fake 27 sweep, 32 dive,” I’d regurgitate.

Coach Boyette was almost as tough as my grandfather. He believed that discipline and desire were as important as talent. Because I took my dad’s never quit rule to heart, I was Boyette’s kind of player. As a JV, I received the same instruction as guys who were much bigger and more talented. If a starter showed an attitude, coach would yank him from the game and put me in for a couple of plays. I played every position except quarterback that year, gamely flinging my puny body against opposing behemoths.

So anyway, I got signed up. I put down free safety and split end as my positions. Those were the only places where I figured brains and my slightly above average foot speed would work. I was almost five foot-ten by then and weighed a solid one-sixty-eight. Tryouts were actually enjoyable for me. It was a lot of fun using my new body. I made the team, firmly second string, but still on the team. I was the ‘nickel back’ on defense and the fifth eligible receiver on a few desperation pass plays. Best of all, though, I was on the special teams: kickoff, kickoff return and punting. I was the Palmdale Banzai.

School started the second week of August. The state kept moving the start date up because of anticipated hurricane related school closures. Before long I figured they would have us go all year around and end the charade. I quickly reentered the routine of high school life, much happier than I was the previous year. My new stature and deeper voice made me much more confident in myself even if my natural shyness prevented me from being the life of the party. In class I answered questions when called on but I seldom volunteered information. Socially, in general, I guess I was the same way. I could hold up my end of a conversation okay as long as I didn’t have to initiate it. With the guys, that was cool but with the girls it was a disaster. I tried to be more out going with girls but I just couldn’t seem to focus. It was weird. And it sucked!

I’ll tell you how bad it was. At my buddy Richie Caldwell’s house one day, his little sister Jenny pulled me aside. Jenny had just turned fourteen and was a freshman. Somehow without me noticing, she had grown up a whole bunch.

She came right to the point, “Are you gay, Johnny?”

Oh shit, I could have died right then and there. I looked quickly around to make sure no one was in earshot.

“No,” I hissed, “what gave you that idea?”

She gave me this seriously condescending look as she continued, “’Cause if you are, it’s no biggie, you know?”

“Jesus, Jen, will you stop saying that. I like girls - exclusively. Now what made you think I’m queer?”

“Michelle figured it out because you are the only one of our brothers’ friends who don’t check us out all the time. Michelle said she did everything but strip for you and you just ran off. That doesn’t sound like any guy who likes girls to me.”

The Michelle in the conversation was Michelle Hoffman, the younger sister of our third buddy, Stan Hoffman. Michelle and Jenny were best buds for life, you seldom saw one without the other. I remembered the incident Jenny mentioned. The memory made my dick twitch in my pants. Two weeks ago, when we were all swimming at Stan’s house I saw Michelle topless when I passed her room on the way to the upstairs bathroom. Michelle was right, I bolted like my ass was on fire, scared shitless she’d tell her folks and I’d be sent to prison as a peeping pervert or something.

“I liked what I saw,” I said defensively, “but you don’t go after your friend’s sister.”

Jenny looked at me incredulously. “Richie gets a hard on when your sister drives by here in her car. You better discuss that rule with him again, I think it got superseded after he saw her in a bikini last year.”

“Okay, Jen, whatever you say. We cool now?”

Jen stood there for a second or two acting like she was thinking then gave me a bright smile.

“I don’t know, Johnny, I think we need proof.”

As I look back on that conversation, I cringe in embarrassment at how easily this woman-child manipulated me. Instead of laughing off the whole thing as a misunderstanding, I did exactly what I later learned the fiendishly clever Michelle had plotted.

“What kind of proof?” I asked.

“If you went over to Michelle’s and you two made out, then no one could say you were gay cause Michelle could swear you weren’t.”

Yes, it was a flimsy story in retrospect, but you have to remember that I was just getting over a traumatic freshman year. Even though I had absolutely nothing against anyone’s lifestyle choice, I certainly didn’t want even a hint of that attached to me. Michelle Hoffman, way too bright for her age, figured that out and used it to entrap me. Still, I played for time.

“Umm, okay, I’ll call her and arrange it,” I stammered.

“No, I’ll call her and tell her you are on your way, and I’ll cover for you here,” she countered. “Now go.”

So off I trudged towards the Hoffman house. Convicts on death row were more motivated for their last trip than I was. I was about to be busted as a sexual slacker by the evil sisters of my two best friends. My grandfather would finally get his wish and I’d have to enroll in a Catholic school. I’d go on to Seminary, become a priest, and die a virgin. The secret of my shame expunged by the Vatican just like the dudes in ‘The Da Vinci Code.’

Michelle answered my knock.

“Gee, Johnny, don’t act so happy to see me,” she pouted.

“You called me a fag, Shelly. You’re right, I should have brought you flowers.”

I don’t know where I found something flip to say, considering the circumstances. I guess I was just too angry to remember I was shy. Michelle must have noticed the same thing. She gave me a funny look and pulled me into the house to the family room. After we were sitting side-by-side on a love seat Michelle started talking.

“I don’t really think you’re gay, Johnny, that was just a way to get you to make out with me. I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings or make you mad. But you and Stan and Richie always call each other names like that anyway. Now you’ll hate me forever.”

Towards the end of her little speech her bottom lip started trembling and she unleashed the one weapon that had me defenseless. She cried. I awkwardly put my arm around her and tried to comfort her. She plastered herself against me, both arms snaking around my neck. Her new position made me acutely aware of her bigger than average breasts pillowed against my chest. The Hoffmans were of German descent, all of them blonde, blue-eyed and robustly Teutonic. Michelle would never be petite. She would forever be a nice handful. The tiny amount of will power I possessed crumbled to dust and the mighty Kong started to stiffen. (Hey, it’s my dick! I’ll name it what I want!) In an embarrassed panic I tried to turn away from Michelle, she tightened her arms and turned with me, ending up on my lap. She felt my erection immediately and gave a little wriggle with her butt.

“Oooo, Johnny,” she cooed, “did I do that?”

Do you see a pattern emerging here? The one where I am always on the defensive when it comes to dealing with women? I figured you could. Heck, Stevie Wonder could see it. I peeled Michelle off and sat her beside me.

“Yes, you did that, Shelly, I told you I’m a normal guy and you’re a pretty girl.”

I must have said the right thing because Michelle kissed me right on the lips! She didn’t use her tongue, but she sure took her time. Her lips were warm and moist. She finally pulled her head back and gave me a dreamy look.

“You are the first boy, I ever kissed like that, Johnny,” she sighed.

Once I admitted to it being my first serious kiss also, things instantly got better between us. She was surprised at how little experience I had until I pointed out that like her, I had just reached puberty. By the time I left fifteen minutes later Michelle had conned me into a pact where we would keep each other updated on what we learned about sex and love and whatever else went with it. Seems Miss Smarty Pants Michelle was as bereft of experience as I was. Since I was within three weeks of being able to date, Michelle figured that I’d be doing most of the passing on. She said that was fine with her, because she trusted me more than anyone she knew, including Jenny Caldwell. Oh, and we made out some too, just so we could say we did.

Before I knew it, November was here. School and football were keeping me too busy to worry about anything else. I, unfortunately, had little to contribute to Michelle’s pool of carnal knowledge. Our pact said we had to do it with someone else first. So, reading Internet erotica for pointers wasn’t going to cut it. I even had to cut back on my rigorous regime of self-abuse, as stimulation and energy were hard to come by.

A week before my birthday Leah called me. I hadn’t heard from her in almost six weeks.

“Hi, Johnny. Miss me?”

Her voice sounded different, younger and more vibrant with a touch of a southern drawl.

“Of course I miss you, the only beautiful girl that would talk to me up and left.”

Was I gallant or what? She actually giggled into the phone then, a tinkling, sweet as honeysuckle sound. My dick, dormant for days, inflated majestically. That was a first, old Kong had never even twitched around Leah before.

“I have a feeling that’s a temporary problem, honey. I changed my name back to Schofield, Johnny, and I’m using my middle name now as well.”

She called me honey! “Your middle name?”

“Yeah, Rachael. I’m officially Rachael Schofield now, a new me, a new name and a new life. I don’t know how I can ever thank you enough, Johnny.”

“Heck, Rachael, that’s easy to do. All you have to do is be happy. That’s thanks enough for me.”

I thought I had said something wrong because the phone went silent for a second. Then her voice, softer now, came back on the line.

“You made me drop the phone, Johnny. You are so sweet, and I know you don’t lie to me, even to make me feel good.”

We chatted for another fifteen minutes working out our first date arrangements. Rachael hit on the idea of picking me up outside the gym after next Friday night’s home football game. When we rang off I went downstairs to talk to my parents. I’d briefly mentioned to them that I thought I had a date for my birthday but I had been skimpy on the details in case it fell through. Now it was time to clue them in. My parents knew about Leah Wentworth but had never met her. My grandfather had met her once when he dropped me off at her house. His endorsement of her character eliminated any doubts my parents might have had about her. I found my dad and grandfather sitting on the porch having cold brewskis. Dad told me Mom was out shopping with Katrina and Nana Nadia.

I sat down on the porch swing and told my dad and Papa J all about my plan for my first date. They listened to me without comment until I wound down.

“Your friend sounds as if she’s rediscovering herself. Good for her, but she is still going to be fragile for a while, Johnny so be careful, okay?”

“No problem, Dad, we’re just friends,” I said.

I started inside to finish my homework when my grandfather stopped me.

“You have protection, Johnny?”

I blushed hotly, “No, Papa, it’s just a first date between friends.”

“Famous last words,” he said.

Still beet red I bolted up the stairs as my father and his father clinked their beer bottles together and laughed.

My birthday, November 12, was on a Wednesday. The only present I wanted was my learner’s permit. My grandfather volunteered to take me down to the Department of Motor Vehicles to test for it. I was nervously waiting outside the main entrance of the school when he drove up at ten sharp. I jumped into his crew cab pickup truck and off we went. As soon as I had my seatbelt on, Papa’s dog, Jethro, stuck his head over my seat and gave me a big slobbery kiss. Lots of old folks have dogs. Usually they get those small, cuddly, and easy to manage ones. Ah, but not Janus Pulaski, his dog is a huge tri-colored hound dog, bred for hunting deer. Jethro has a head the size a large watermelon with a tongue as big as a two-pound strip steak. Papa thinks Jethro is the reincarnation of Rin-Tin-Tin. Given that Jethro is pretty much a sweet natured doofus, the rest of the family is not so sure about that.

My grandfather, at the age of seventy-four, is probably more fit and healthy than most men in their forties. He and my grandmother are comfortable financially so they could be living that easy retiree life of golf and travel. But Papa is not wired like that.

“I am a man,” he says, “and a man works.”

So Papa has a woodworking shop where he custom makes furniture for people. He is also in high demand for small home repairs. He hires me to work for him on some of his repair jobs.

We arrived at the DMV at a quarter after for my ten-thirty appointment. Papa snagged a parking place close to the entrance and we left Jethro sprawled out across the rear seat snoring like a chain saw. I took the written test while my grandfather flirted with all the women in the DMV. Maybe I should have gone to him for help with women, because his rap even had the younger women giggling and blushing. I aced the written test and emerged from the DMV at eleven-thirty with my sparkly new learner’s permit. Oh, Yes! Passage to manhood, part one, underway. We get back to the truck and Papa threw me the keys.

“You drive, Johnny. Take us to Mama’s Diner for lunch.”

The football game on Friday after my birthday was against a weak non-conference opponent. The game was well in hand by the middle of the second period so us subs got in for mop up duty early. I played free safety for the entire second half. I had a good game too, made a couple of open field tackles, and even intercepted a pass. Man I was on cloud nine. After a quick shower and some celebrating, I exited the gym with a few of my teammates. I was barely through the door when a red headed hottie fell in beside me and slipped her arm through mine.

“You were awesome tonight, Johnny,” she cooed.

The voice was the only thing about Rachael Schofield, nee Leah Wentworth, that I recognized. I stopped and turned to face her. I was speechless. Rachel’s hair was down to her shoulders and colored the dark red I loved. Gone were the wire framed granny glasses, replaced with green tinted contact lenses. Her nose was straight now, and fit her face perfectly. The shapeless clothes I had always seen her in had morphed into tight jeans and a soft gray sweater. Her clothes were stylishly molded to a body straight out of Playboy Magazine. She certainly had breasts now. perfect grapefruit sized orbs sitting high and proud on her chest.

“Say something, Johnny,” she said.

“You are the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen,” I gasped.

When she smiled at my answer, I saw that her chipped front teeth had been capped. She took my arm again and led me to the parking lot.

“Where are you taking me?” she asked.

“Steak and Shake for a bite to eat then down to the beach. The football team is having a little get together to celebrate,” I answered.

She squeezed my arm in agreement as we walked into the parking lot. She led me toward a bright red BMW. The car screamed coolness without being flashy.

“Wow, nice wheels.”

“My trust fund made a lot of money while I couldn’t get to it,” she explained sheepishly.

She gave me the keys and I drove us to the Steak and Shake. We went inside and after a short wait commandeered a booth. People I knew from school stared at us in slack-jawed amazement as we sat side by side in the booth. Rachael was beyond terrific, laughing at my lame jokes as she snuggled happily against my side. The waitress had just left with our order when my sister strolled up to the table with her date.

“Hi, Ru - er - Johnny, can we join you?”

I looked at Rachael and when she nodded, said, “Sure, Sis. Have a seat.”

Katrina slid into the booth and then so did Josh Turner. Joshua Turner was a serious big man on campus and about one of the nicest people you’d ever want to meet.

I made introductions all around and waved the waitress back over. Katrina knew nothing about Rachael, not because it was some big secret, it just never came up. My sister and I orbited the sun at different distances during the school year and seldom had opportunities to talk. I could tell Katrina was about to explode with curiosity. Finally, she could hold it no longer.

“Rachael, I don’t remember seeing you around school, did you just transfer in?”

Rachael made it into the best date ever hall of fame with her answer. She grabbed onto my arm and leaned towards Katrina and Josh.

“Goodness, no! I don’t go to school here, I’m a freshman at UCF. I met Johnny last summer when he did some work on my parent’s house. I’ve been impatiently waiting for him to be able to start dating ever since.”

Oh, Dude! Was it ever so sweet to watch my unflappable sister stunned speechless. Rachael smiled sweetly and kissed me on the cheek before she delivered the coup de grace.

“He is the sweetest, sexiest man I’ve ever met. I’m gonna keep him.”

Katrina recovered quickly and by the time our sodas arrived, the four of us were all chatting like old friends. We invited Katrina and Josh to the beach with us but they begged a previous engagement. When we left, I put my arm around Rachael and she snuggled close to me. Every eye in the place was on us as we walked out to the parking lot. If I had dropped dead at that exact moment I would have died content.

Once we were in the car Rachael asked me if she had done all right. I assured her that she had been perfect. That got me another smile and a kiss on the corner of my mouth. We motored over the causeway and down to the beach approach by the jetties. Most of the team and their dates were already there. A couple of the coaches were charring some dead mammal flesh while groups of players were sitting around bullshitting about the game. I introduced Rachael around and we joined in the conversation. Rachael fit in comfortably. She was friendly and funny, all the while making it obvious that she was happy to be there with me.

At eleven, she whispered to me that she’d like to go for a walk on the beach. We excused ourselves and walked down to the water holding hands.

“This is the best date I’ve ever had,” she sighed.

“Me too,” I replied.

She punched me in the arm, “It’s the only date you’ve ever had.”

“Yeah, you’ve ruined me for other women.” I said it light and breezy but I meant every word.

“Does that mean you’ll ask me out again?”

“Is tomorrow too soon?”

Rachael spun herself toward me. She wrapped her arms around my neck and pulled my face down to hers. Awkwardly our lips met, then she took charge and kissed me. I tried to mimic what she was doing, letting my lips stay soft against hers. When her little tongue pried open my lips, I touched it with the tip of mine. I don’t know how long that kiss lasted but it seemed to stretch on into infinity. When she pulled her head back, I opened my eyes and looked down. Her face in the wan streaky light of the moon was all rapt wonderment and blissful smile. She blinked her eyes and bit her lip pensively.

“Johnny, that was so good it was scary,” she whispered, “do it again.”

We kissed again with even more spectacular results. Then we turned and walked along the beach. We talked as we walked, both of us trying to grasp what was happening between us. Rachael said this was crazy. that things were going too fast, and life really wasn’t like what we were feeling right then. I, of course, knew absolutely nothing about life and told her so. Then I reminded her that most of what she knew about life was from being with the wrong person. We never really figured anything out but agreed that we would talk about it more tomorrow.

Rachael delivered me to my doorstep at midnight on the dot. I floated into the house as she drove over to spend the night at her place. My parents were in the family room pretending to be interested in the television. I walked in and flopped down on the loveseat across from where they sat snuggled on the couch.

“I don’t guess we have to ask how your evening went,” my dad deadpanned.

“Tonight was the most perfect night that ever happened in the history of mankind,’ I gushed. “ I invited her over to meet you tomorrow, is that okay?”

My parents laughingly agreed that it was indeed fine with them and sent me to bed.

I slept in the next morning, straggling down to the kitchen just after nine. Dad, I knew, was down at his business until noon. Mom was sitting in the breakfast nook drinking coffee and reading the paper. I kissed her cheek and said good morning, made myself a huge bowl of raisin bran and joined her. Mom had a seriously important job with the space program. She traveled a lot between Cape Canaveral, Johnson Space Center in Houston and Washington. It was nice to sit and shoot the breeze with her. We talked about school and the game last night then Mom took off her glasses and gave me a sadly sweet look.

“You’ve grown up on me over night, Johnny. You’re not my little boy any more. I look at you now and see your father in you more and more.”

I reached over and took her hand, “I’m kinda proud that you think I’m becoming like Dad, there are a lot worse things a person could be.”

I waited until ten to call Rachael. She picked up the phone on the second ring. She sounded happy and bubbly and quickly agreed to come over in half an hour. I rocketed upstairs for a quick shower and to brush my teeth. I couldn’t wait to see her again.

Rachael was right on time. She looked freshly scrubbed all-American cute, in jeans and a black and gold UCF sweatshirt, her lustrous cayenne pepper hair in a ponytail. I introduced her to Mom and we sat down to get acquainted. At eleven my grandparents came over. I introduced Rachael, then Papa asked me if I would help him load and deliver a piece of furniture from his shop. I looked at Rachael, worried that she would feel trapped being there with my mom and Nana.

She gave me a smile and said, “We’ll be fine, Johnny. While you’re gone, your mom and Nana are going to tell me embarrassing stories about you.”

When we returned an hour later the three women had moved into the family room. Rachael was sitting between Mom and Nana on the couch looking at old family photographs. I swear to God, the first girl I date, the first visit to my house, and my mom is showing my naked butt baby pictures. I was saved from further embarrassment when Dad came through the door. He joined us in the family room, gave my mom a big kiss and introduced himself to Rachael. She blushed crimson when he told her that I was one more Pulaski with a prettier girl than he deserved.

We did the lunch with family thing then went to the mall. Rachael wanted a couple of CD’s from Music Town and she needed a few things for school. It was fun just hanging out with her. She had changed her physical appearance sure, but she was also more confident in herself now. We drove to her house from the mall so we could talk. Rachael led me to the living room when we arrived. I was surprised to see the room had been redecorated. The new furniture was all browns and tans. matching accents and painting pulled the room together. Rachael proudly told me she had picked everything herself, mostly from catalogs. She had an eye for design, which was her declared major at UCF. She sat me down at one end of the couch then sat herself at the other end.

“I told your mother I was going to have this talk with you,” she said.

I thought ‘Uh-oh,’ but fortunately kept my mouth shut while I nodded.

“I told her I wanted to continue to date you if that’s what you wanted. I also told her that I wasn’t going to steal your youth. I want you to have friends, meet girls your own age, and go on other dates. But I want you in my life, Johnny. You are my rock. Can you live with that?”

I told her I could and that I wanted to keep seeing her, too.

“I like being around you, Rachael. You make me feel good just by standing next to me.”

Rachael scooted over next to me then and we cuddled and talked. She asked me about girls my age and how that was going. I told her about my run in with Michelle and Jenny and about my pact with Michelle. I told Rachael that if it bothered her, I’d forget about it. She laughed, said it was great for now, and she was going to have to keep me in new things to teach young Miss Hoffman. Then she turned serious.

“Johnny, when you kiss me it makes me feel things I never felt with Jesse. He’s the only man I ever slept with, you know. I’m not at all experienced. Sex between us was strictly for his benefit, the worse he could make me feel the better he liked it. I don’t know if I’ll ever enjoy it, I don’t know if we’ll ever do it, so don’t expect too much, okay?’

I felt a twinge of disappointment at what she was saying. The kisses last night had ignited my hormones and I had masturbated to visions of a naked Rachael riding me. Stronger than the disappointment though, was a wash of shame that I was so concerned with me when stuff was so hard for her. I vowed to myself that I would never do anything to make her feel bad.

“I won’t try anything, honest. I just want to be with you,” I said.

“Oh, I want you to try stuff, Johnny. How are we going to know if I like it? Just stop if I tell you to, Okay?”

“Oh, yeah. I can live with that,” I said happily.

Then to show her I understood, I pulled her against me and kissed her.

We went out to dinner and a movie that night then drove back down to the beach. We sat on a picnic table under the pavilion overlooking the beach and watched the high tide batter the seawall. We didn’t talk much or even make out. The mood was just too perfect.

Rachael went to church with us the next morning. She wore a nice little print dress that went down to her knees and a pair of dressy two-inch heels. It dawned on me that I had never seen her legs before and that they were definitely worth looking at. I whispered as much to her when we took our seats. She chided me for hitting on her in church, but her smile told me she really didn’t mind my comment.

After Mass we all went to Denny’s for lunch then I rode home with Rachael to help her pack. She had to get back to campus and do some homework. The main UCF campus was in Orlando, thirty-five miles from Palmdale. It was a little after three when she drove me to my house. She shut off the engine and turned in the seat to face me.

“Thank you, Johnny,” she said, “that was the best weekend I can ever remember having. Now kiss me and tell me you’ll call me before I start crying.”

I did both then hopped out and waved as she motored away. She was right. It had been a great weekend. I trudged into the house, missing her already. I called Stan to see if he wanted to work out. I figured the exercise would take my mind off Rachael.

Chapter 3

The Monday after my dates with Rachael was amazing. Guys came up to me all day asking about the girl they saw me with. To top it off, girls were paying me more attention, too. I could understand about the guys. A hot girlfriend with a cool car gave you instant stature. With the girls, though, what did it matter? Well it mattered for sure. Girls who had snubbed me for years were suddenly smiling and saying hello while some girls that I though of as friends were cool toward me. I ran my problem by my sister when I saw her at lunch.

“That’s easy Runt, the girls being nice now see you as maybe worth having, if someone as hot as Rachael likes you. The ones who already liked you are miffed because you found someone like Rachael. By the way, she is a terrific girl, Johnny but don’t you think she’s a little old for you?”

“We’ve been on two dates, Moose, I’m not ready to propose yet. Put yourself in my shoes, here is this absolutely gorgeous girl wanting to go out with me, the guy who couldn’t hire someone to do that six months ago. Now I’m supposed to be choosy because she’s older than me?”

At gym Stan and Richie pull me aside in the locker room.

“Spill it,” Stan said.

I gave my buds a non-detailed synopsis of my dates. I explained I hadn’t told them about Rachael because I didn’t want to jinx it. They nodded wisely as if my weekend fit in with their own dating experiences.

“My sister is seriously pissed at you over this,” Stan added.

“Why is she pissed? I told her and Jenny that I wasn’t going to mess with my friends’ sisters.”

Both Stan and Richie looked sheepish. “Ummm, I told Michelle that we would forget that rule. I got to thinking that it wasn’t fair for us to try to run our sisters’ lives. I mean would it be fair if Richie and your sister wanted to go out but didn’t because of you?”

I was speechless for a few seconds until it hit me.

“You like Jenny, don’t you?”

Stan shushed me and swore me to secrecy.

Then he said, “So we are agreed, we can go out with each others sisters as long as we treat them with respect.”

Richie agreed and I nodded as well, I figured I didn’t have much to worry about. I shouldn’t have underestimated my friend Richie like that.

At football practice even Coach Boyette got in on the act by dogging me about being to tired to practice because of my hot new girlfriend. He broke everyone up when I slipped down running a pass route by braying from the sideline. “It’s hard to stand on your feet all day if you’ve been standing on your dick all night, ain’t it, Pulaski?”

Yep, Rachael Schofield was better for my reputation than hitting the lottery.

It was Thanksgiving week, and we were out of school Thursday and Friday. I called Rachael Tuesday night to wish her well for the weekend. She had committed to flying up to Rhode Island to spend the holiday with her mother’s parents. She sounded as sad as I felt that we wouldn’t be together but insisted that I go out if I had the chance.

“Don’t mope around the house, Johnny,” she ordered. “Go out and have some fun or your parents will have second thoughts about us.”

So that’s how I ended up at the Hoffmans’ house on Saturday night. Stan invited me over to hang out because his parents were out of town and his older brother had a date. He casually mentioned that Jenny was spending the night with Michelle. Richie was spending the weekend hunting with his grandfather and uncle. How convenient. The Hoffman’s had a heated pool with a hot tub built in next to it, and a cool game room with a huge plasma television. The game room was strictly the turf of the teenaged Hoffmans, an inducement to keep them from finding other places to party.

I was on my good behavior as we sat around eating pizza and watching a Blockbuster copy of ‘The Transporter.’ Michelle was sitting next to me trying to figure out how mad to be at me. When Stan and Jenny slipped out to sit by the pool, Michelle turned off the TV and turned to face me.

“I heard all about your new girlfriend,” she sniffed.

“We had two dates, Shelly, that hardly qualifies her as my girlfriend.”

“I heard that she’s in college and is a model or something.”

“Her name is Rachael, and she goes to UCF. Why are we talking about her when I’m here with you?’

“How can I compete with a hot college girl with a sports car, Johnny?”

“It’s not a competition Shelly, last weekend I dated her, and tonight you’re my date.”

Her mood improved immediately. “Is this a date?”

“Sure it is, we are together eating pizzas and watching a movie. What else could it be?”

Michelle smiled and jumped up from the couch. “You’re right, what else could it be.” she hit the pause button on the DVD player and cranked the satellite receiver to a country music station. Walking to the sliding glass doors she announced that she was turning the lights off. When she rejoined me on the couch it was by the faint glow of the lights inside the pool. She sat close to me and draped my arm over her shoulder.

“So,” she asked, “did you learn anything new?”

I kissed Michelle like Rachael and I kissed thinking Michelle would be shocked. Instead, she took right to it and was surprisingly terrific at it in only a couple of tries. Rachael kissed passionately but I could always tell she was keeping herself in check. Not so with Michelle, she kissed with wild abandon. We had been kissing for about five minutes when Michelle fell back on the couch dragging me on top of her, she moaned into my mouth and ground herself against my leg. I stopped kissing and watched in bug-eyed wonder as her arms dropped limply from around my neck.

“You okay, Shelly?”

“Yeah,” she said dreamily, “very okay. Now get down here and make that happen some more.”

I had to laugh as I bent down to kiss her again. The little minx had had an orgasm. Once again I wasn’t leading anything, I was just along for the ride. I kissed her again and we squirmed around until I was between her legs. Michelle had on a button up blouse and shorts over her bikini. I had on jeans and a polo shirt over my bathing suit. Yet through all those layers of clothes my hard shaft and her eager little cleft found a way to rub against each other. The next time she started that little panting noise I decided to see if I could make it even better for her. I trailed kisses down her neck into the open collar of her blouse. When I kissed my way to the top of her cleavage her hips slammed up and ground against me holding us both up. Black dots danced in front of my eyes as I came about a gallon in my Baggies. I groaned as we collapsed on the couch.

“Did you, too?” she asked.

“Oh, yeah,” I said.

“She smiled, “Good.”

I think that Michelle’s unrestrained sexuality took away all my embarrassment. Oh damn, did she love this stuff. I was amazed that she was still so unspoiled because she was so hot natured. We got up off the couch, my swim shorts starting to stick to my groin uncomfortably. Michelle understood my plight and suggested we get in the hot tub. We sat cuddled up in the tub for almost an hour talking and laughing. Michelle showed me how she used the pulsating jets of the Jacuzzi to get herself off. She was more open about her sexuality than anyone I’d ever met. When I commented on it, she told me that the only other people who knew about her were her mom and Jenny.

“From the first time we kissed, Johnny, I trusted you. I knew you’d accept me and not make fun or take advantage of me. I’m starting on the pill as soon as I have my next period. In six weeks or so I’ll be able to have sex if I want. I swear when I’m around you my body is on fire and all I can think about is us making love.”

Sunday afternoon I was back at the Hoffmans’, this time it was Richie, Stan, and I lifting weights and shooting the breeze in the garage.

“So Stan is hooked up with my sister, and Michelle is after Johnny. I guess that means I have to ask Katrina out,” Richie said.

Stan and I gawked at him trying to figure out if he was serious. Richie was the Romeo of our little posse, an accomplished ladies man. But still, this was Katrina Pulaski he was talking about so nonchalantly. Katrina was about as far out of our league as Paulina Porizkova. I started to say something and Richie held up his hand.

“I won’t break her heart, I promise,” Richie said. “Now all we need is a plan.”

You’ll notice that Richie has no shortage of self-esteem. Richie had been like that from the time we were in the third grade. I suppose it’s genetic or hereditary because his entire family is that way. The Caldwells are part of the ‘beautiful people country club set.’ Richie’s (Richard Drake Caldwell’s) father, Jack Caldwell, is the general manager of TnT Ford, the largest Ford dealership in the nation. His Mother, Denise Drake, is a former University of Florida cheerleader and Homecoming Queen. She is now a local television personality who co-hosts the Palmdale Fox television affiliate’s morning show. Richie is a handsome dude. He has perfect blonde hair, dazzlingly white and even teeth, dark blue eyes and a flawless complexion. If he had any faults it was that he wasn’t very tall. He stood about five-eight. To make up for that slight Mother Nature whipped him up a taut, slim, muscular swimmers body with the grace of Mikhail Baryshnikov.

At the mention of a plan, both boys eyed me expectantly. I was the unofficial leader of the great triumvirate and it was to me they looked when a scheme was needed.

I sighed, “Are you sure about this, Richie? The Moose is perfectly capable of twisting your head off, if you piss her off.”

Richie smiled and answered, “I know that, and that’s part of the allure. Yes, I’m positive.”

What I said about my sister twisting his head off was literally true. Katrina has studied martial arts since she was nine. When other girls her age were taking dance or cheerleading, Katrina was working her way towards black belts in Taekwondo and judo. Katrina started competing in tournaments at the age of eleven and at twelve was the US Amateur Athletic Union Junior Champion in judo. She had a relentlessly aggressive style and knew her stuff. I figured Katrina was as safe from Richie - or any other male - as she wanted to be.

“I’ll work on it,” I said, “but don’t expect any miracles.”

The semester was coming to an end and Christmas break was looming as we headed back to school after Thanksgiving. I was stuffing my head full of facts nightly preparing for mid terms. I did well in school and took all honors courses but I had to work at it. I called Rachael Monday night and we talked for an hour. She said she missed me a lot but couldn’t come down the following weekend because of midterms. She was really applying herself and wanted the best grades she could get. I was disappointed and told her so, but I also told her that around my house school came first so I understood.

With a free weekend coming up I turned my attention to a plan to get Richie together with Katrina. I thought for a while and a glimmer of an idea came to me. I called Richie.

“Richie, do you guys still have the houseboat out on Lake Jessup?”

“Yeah, why?”

“Well suppose you asked your parents about having a party on it this weekend, would they let you?”

“I guess.”

“Further suppose you said you wouldn’t need any parents there, because my sister was chaperoning.”

“I’m on it,” he said excitedly.

I left conning the parental units into the plan in Richie’s capable hands. He could sling a load of crap bigger than a tugboat could pull. I had full faith in his ability to con his parents into just about anything. I next called Stan and asked him if he thought his folks would go for Michelle and him going, too. Stan thought that it would be no problem. All he had to do was to guarantee no drinking or drugs. As further camouflage, he said he would say the invitation included his older brother Evan and then make sure Evan begged off. The Evan angle was perfect, I told him to talk to Evan right now. By nine that evening Richie had the houseboat, and a catered lunch provided by the marina. Stan had secured all the permissions at his end. Now it was up to me to get Katrina to go for it.

I walked to her room and knocked on the door.

“Hey, Moose, got a minute?”

She called me in and spun her desk chair around.

“What’s up, Runt?”

I began the delicate task of telling Katrina the truth without telling her Richie’s plan.

“Rachael has to study for midterms this weekend and can’t come down. I have a chance for a date with another girl but I need your help.”

Katrina jumped on the other girl thing, as I knew she would. She really was uncomfortable about my relationship with Rachael for some reason.

“Who is the other girl?”

“Michelle Hoffman.”

She nodded in approval and said, “Nice girl, cute and more your speed, too.”

“Yeah, well, if we can’t get someone older to go with us it won’t happen. Richie wants to spend Saturday on their houseboat with Stan, Jenny, Michelle, me, him and his date. His parents are okay with it as long as someone older is along. We are trying to eliminate having parents hovering around, Evan can’t go because he’s got something going for Saturday already. I was hoping you’d help us out. I know it will be boring for you but the boat is huge and we wont bother you.”

Boy did I sound sincere and with just the right touch desperation (Please notice that every word I spoke was technically the truth. ‘Aha,’ you say, ‘the part about Richie having a date was a lie.’ Well, Mr. Prosecutor, what do you think I was working on now? And as further evidence I submit that I named no names.). Katrina sat there for a minute looking at me, pondering her answer. I had put her on the spot, she had to either give up a Saturday or leave me more firmly in Rachael’s clutches. Have you ever noticed that really smart young people sometimes overthink a problem? I could see the wheels turning as she decided to sacrifice a day to ‘rescue’ me.

“Okay, bro. I’ll do it for you, but don’t make me make you regret you asked.”

“Thanks, Katrina! I’ll owe you big time.”

I called Richie and told him my part was done. The rest was up to him. I had a momentary pang of conscience about tricking Katrina but all in all it was not a big thing. I figured the worst that could happen was she’d spend all day with her laptop working on some project she always had going. And who knows, she might actually have a good time.

Even though we were knee deep in midterms, football practice still happened. Friday night was our conference playoff game and coach was driving us hard. We had a good team but we were far from dominating, the playoffs were going to be an uphill battle.

Our chances for advancing took a serious hit Wednesday, when two of our linebackers got busted for joyriding in a stolen car. That afternoon as we were lining up for calisthenics, Coach Boyette pulled me aside.

“Practice with the linebackers today Pulaski, and you’d better be balls to the walls.”

Wow, Palmdale was famous for producing linebackers, we were like the Penn State of Florida prep football. The coach was giving me a serious opportunity. I practiced exactly as he expected, hurtling myself all over the field with complete kamikaze abandon.

Friday night’s game started on a wretchedly sour note when our middle linebacker went out on the second play from scrimmage. He dislocated his shoulder when he and a crossing tight end collided accidentally on a play going in the opposite direction. In our defensive scheme the middle line backer was defensive play caller and our best athlete. it was a devastating loss. Coach called a time out and revised our defensive line. He brought up one of our cornerbacks as a linebacker and put me in the other spot. We were now playing with four linebackers and only one safety. We held together pretty good in the first half with coach signaling the defensive alignments from the sidelines. We went into the locker room trailing 14-10. I was playing a solid game, nothing spectacular but I was holding my own.

In the second half the Daytona team exploited our makeshift defense by passing the ball on nearly every down. They ran us ragged and scored on a couple of long bombs. When we trudged off the field it was on the losing end of a 34-17 score. I was sore, beat up and dejected. Coach Boyette gave us a hold your head high speech and that was it for our season. I sure could have used Rachael’s company that night.

The Saturday after our game dawned clear and warm, a late Indian Summer day that makes you glad you live in Florida. Richie told us to be ready by nine so Katrina and I were in the kitchen with our backpacks when the doorbell rang. When we hit the door Richie was waiting, with a sweeping gesture he pointed to a stretch Lincoln limousine waiting at the curb. Katrina’s eyebrows worked up and down as Richie chivalrously took her backpack and led us away.

When I told Katrina the Caldwell’s houseboat was big I wasn’t kidding. It was a fiberglass two-story wonder, fifty feet long and twenty feet wide. It was moored at a fairly swank marina at the tee shaped end of a long dock. The boat was actually owned by the dealership that Richie’s dad ran. It was a floating party barge for entertaining clients. Even Katrina was impressed. Richie was the perfect host, he showed us around the boat, pointing out the staterooms and telling us to throw our backpacks into one of them. Richie had explained his lack of a date on the ride over. He explained that the houseboat would stay tied to the dock, while we were all out on the fan deck squeezing into wet suits to go jet skiing. He naturally paired up with Katrina.

We sped around the lake for an hour on the small two person jet boats that had been tied to the stern of the houseboat. Katrina loved powering around the lake with a happy Richie snuggled up to her back. When we were back on the houseboat, Richie sent us to change while he cranked up the grill. You had to give it to the boy. He had taken my idea and had run with it. It was amazing that he was able to throw all this together in just a few days. Richie burned some burgers and dogs on the grill and pulled some salads out of the fridge. Katrina had loosened up and was talking and joking with us as we ate.

Richie and Katrina fueled up the jet skis and went riding again while the rest of us went into the boat’s lounge and found the Florida football game on the big screen. Cable TV on a houseboat! The wonders of technology.

Stan and Jenny slipped off after about twenty minutes, leaving Michelle and me cuddled on the couch.

“Having a good time, Shelly?” I asked.

Her eyes were sparking when she answered, “I’m having a wonderful time, Johnny! This is sooo romantic.”

“Jenny and your brother seem to be hitting it off, how’s it going with them?”

“I think they are further along than us. Jenny is like thinking about going all the way very soon.”

I hadn’t expected that much information. “Hmmm’” was my lame response.

“Now tell me about Richie and your sister.”

“I have no idea what’s going on other than they seem to be getting along okay.”

“I’ve never seen your sister so relaxed and friendly. She is the most intense person I’ve ever met.”

“She is a really nice person, Shelly. She’s just so focused, it seems like she never relaxes. I’m really glad she’s having fun.”

We made out a while on the couch but I kept it from getting too hot and heavy. Michelle was a little disappointed until I told her that we were just getting warmed up and I wanted to save the really good stuff for later. Just as the dusk was gathering over the lake Katrina and Richie roared up. We all went down and helped secure the water craft and square away the fantail then we went to change for dinner. The amazing Richie had made reservations for us at the marina. We had a nice meal and strolled back to the boat about seven. It was beautiful out there on the water as a big hunter’s moon lanced a brilliant shaft of moonlight across the deck.

We were all standing at the railing looking at the moon when I noticed that Richie had his arm around Katrina and she was leaning against him. While I was staring in disbelief, Jenny slipped into the lounge and started some soft romantic music piping out onto the deck. It only seemed natural to pull Michelle to me and start to sway to the music. When I looked around the other two couples had the same idea. We were scattered around the large deck, each couple cocooned in a soft pool of darkness. Michelle turned her face up and we kissed as we danced. When she broke the kiss she pulled my head down and whispered in my ear.

“We are going to go inside in a while and find an empty room. Then I’m going to trust you to keep me from letting you do what I want you to do.”

We danced for another ten minutes then slipped inside. I glanced at Katrina and Richie as we passed through the doors. She had her head on his shoulder and was molded tightly against him. His hands were resting on the flare of her sleek hips, his lips softly on her exposed neck.

I forgot all about my sister when Michelle snicked home the lock on the stateroom door. We fell on the bed in a tangle of arms, legs, and lips. I know I keep saying this but … the next hour and a half was the highlight of my life, up to this point. Before it was over I had my hands and lips on every square inch of Shelly’s delicious body, and her body was a work of art. She was well padded everywhere, yet you could feel firm muscles underneath. Her breasts were perky for their size and weight, the firmness of youth defying gravity. Her little mound was covered with a neatly groomed thatch of silky blonde hair. Her ass was shapely and blemish free … until I put a hickey on it, at her insistence.

I lost count of the number of orgasms Shelly had that night. She had a bunch though, and I enjoyed giving her every one of them. I was able to put my research into cunnilingus to practical application too. As the saying goes, one lick and I was hooked. One lick and so was Shelly. The only thing about Michelle that was odd to me was how quiet she was as she came. She explained to me later that she always had to restrain herself at home to keep anyone from hearing her so she had lots of control that way.

“One day when we are alone I’ll let myself go and we’ll both see what it’s like,” she promised.

She didn’t neglect me either. She was as interested in seeing and playing with my equipment as I was hers. Hers was the first hand besides mine wrapped around my dick.

“Oooh, it’s so big and hard,” she said.

I liked that, liked it a lot. Never mind that her experience in dicks was limited to the one in her hand. She shyly asked if she could take me in her mouth. “NO,” I said firmly… yeah, right. It was both of ours first blowjob so I honestly don’t know how good her technique was. I do know that as far as Kong was concerned, it was the best in history. Shelly swallowed all of my cum that didn’t escape her overflowing lips. She told me later that swallowing was okay, but she was only going to do it for someone she thought was really special, in the future. We took a quick neck down shower and headed to the lounge at nine-thirty. We were both sated down to our toenails.

We arrived at the lounge at the same time as Stan and Jenny. Richie and Katrina were in the galley getting sodas. We helped Richie pick up and straighten up the houseboat, then we grabbed our bags and hoofed it to the waiting limo.

When the limo arrived at our house I kissed Michelle goodnight and hopped out. Richie got out and walked us to the door carrying Katrina’s backpack. I went in the door first, and Katrina followed … about three minutes later.

I never found out what happened between Richie and Katrina. Katrina thanked me for inviting her along though, and said she had had a good time. Richie was closed mouth about it as well, and I didn’t try to pry any information out of either of them.

They did go on a few dates after Richie got his driver’s license in early December, but by tacit agreement we never double dated. I know that at any function that required dancing, Richie was Katrina’s date of choice. She was never bothered that he was four inches shorter than her. After he got his license we all saw less and less of Richie. He had a lot going on, including landing a few acting jobs at Disney studios, down near Orlando.

{strong

Chapter 4

I plowed through midterms the following week. I was very comfortable with the tests and thought I had done very well. I talked to Rachael on the phone a couple of times but she was still distracted with her own midterms. Winter break started for us on the fifteenth of December and Rachael came down on the seventeenth for a week. She was flying out on the twenty-third to spend the holidays with her family in Rhode Island. Rachael told me that reconnecting with her family made her very happy. We spent most of the time she was home together. We Christmas shopped, hung out at my house and went out at night. Rachael was my date to three Christmas parties. One of the parties was a fancy to-do that my mom’s work threw.

The NASA party was at the Officer’s Club at Cape Canaveral. Rachael and I rode down to the party with Mom and Dad. Katrina didn’t go to the party. Instead she was at one being thrown by Josh Turner’s aunt and uncle at their ranch. Josh had some seriously famous relatives. His uncle was Jake Turner, the former POTUS, and his mother Angela was the President and CEO of the Turner Furniture and Appliance empire.

I was wearing a new suit for the NASA shindig. I was five-ten by then and a solid one-seventy-five. I had outgrown my other two suits. Rachael was wearing a shimmery jade green cocktail dress that fit her like a second skin. She looked beyond fantastic. The party had a live band that was damned good. Rachael loved to dance so we spent most of the evening on the dance floor. The music and dancing really brought her to life. She literally glowed with happiness.

Rachael and my physical relationship moved forward during that week as I built on the experiences I had with Michelle. I went very slowly with Rachael, always aware of her fragility. I had noticed with Michelle, and now with Rachael, that I was very attuned to what they were feeling. I have always been sensitive to people and since I hit puberty that awareness seemed to be magnified. As I spent more intimate time with Rachael I was able to hone my sensitivity to the point where I instinctively knew how to keep her receptive to what I was doing.

On the day before she departed, Rachael said she just wanted to hang out with me at her house. I rode my bicycle over there with the presents I’d bought her for Christmas. Rachael greeted me at the door in a green plaid miniskirt topped by a red sweater. She liked it when I told her she looked cute and Christmassy. Rachael was really into the whole Christmas thing, so we were soon on the couch snuggled under a comforter watching a Christmas DVD she’d bought. I was lying behind her on the couch. Her head was resting in the crook of one of my arms the other around her holding her to me. As the movie progressed I slipped my hand under her sweater palming her breast. Her breast fit my hand perfectly. Not surprising, I guess, when you consider that Rachael opted for the implants she had based on my description of the size I liked.

When the movie ended Rachael turned off the television. She stayed nestled in my arms, her hand lightly stroking the arm I had under her sweater.

“I love being in your arms, Johnny. It’s the one place in the world I feel safest.”

I murmured my agreement.

“Lets go to the bedroom so we can be more comfortable,” she whispered shyly.

We were breaking new ground here because I’d never been in her bedroom. I untangled myself from her and helped her to her feet. Then impulsively, I swept her into my arms and set off for her bedroom. She gave a startled gasp when I picked her up, then sighed and wrapped her arms around my neck. When we got to the bedroom I swept back the covers and deposited her in the center of her bed. Her arms remained firmly locked around my neck so I was leaning awkwardly over her.

“Johnny, you keep doing things and doing things that make me feel so good. And every time I think I can’t feel any better you do something else,” she whispered fiercely.

I pried her arms loose and lay down next to her. She turned to face me and our lips came together in a kiss so achingly sweet it took our breath away. Rachael didn’t make a peep when I pulled her sweater over her head and unfastened her bra. When I attached my lips to her nipple, her hand came up and she held the back of my head. Her nipples were as perfect as her breasts, small pink nubbins centered on quarter sized areolæ. Her nipples were sensitive and she gave a little moan as I moved from one to the other, my tongue trailing down into the valley between her breasts. I spent a long time gently worshiping her upper body. When I felt she was ready for more I moved my hand down and slowly ran it up her thigh.

Rachael clamped her thighs together but she didn’t stop me from touching her. I moved up to kiss her again as I softly stroked her thighs. In time, I progressed up to where I was lightly stroking her mound through her panties. After a few minutes of gentle rubbing she groaned in surrender and her thighs fell apart. As I slipped my fingers under the leg band of her satin high cut panties I couldn’t help but compare how much wetter she was than Michelle. Rachael was soaked and she gave off this intoxicating musky aroma.

I easily slid one finger into her wetness. She rolled her hips up eagerly taking more of my finger. I sawed my finger gently in and out of her and her moaning grew in volume. I upped the ante again and started tugging her panties down. She raised her hips to help. Off one leg then the other the silky panties came. Golly, were they cute little things, those panties. They were green satin and lace and matched her bra down to the little satin bows on the side. My girl liked green and the color was perfect for her. Her make over didn’t extend to her pubic hair. It was nicely trimmed but was a dark blonde color.

With the barrier of her dainties dispensed with, I wasted no time in burying my face where that wonderful odor originated. Suddenly Rachael started frantically pushing my head away.

“Stop it, Johnny! I’m all wet and nasty down there.”

I looked up at her incredulously.

“You’ve got to be kidding! I love it that I make you wet, and you smell so good! I want to taste you, too.”

She looked at me dubiously but her death grip on my hair relaxed a little. I went back to doing what I wanted, happily exploring what felt good to her. Again, unlike Michelle, she was vocal in her appreciation. Hot damn, I loved to hear her moan and babble my name! When she came she gave a squeal and went rigid, then started pumping her hips furiously against my face. Her gyrations caught me by surprise and she split my lip against my teeth. Rachael wasn’t multi-orgasmic, she pushed my head away and curled up on her side. Not knowing what else to do, I pulled the sheet up over her, moved up on the bed, and held her. Can you imagine how surprised I was to feel her sobbing against me?

“What’s the matter, Rachael?”

“That was so good and so sweet, Johnny. It was the strongest climax I’ve ever had. I guess I’m just overwhelmed is all.”

What guy doesn’t like to hear that? She sniffled then giggled.

“You still have all your clothes on, get naked and get under these covers with me.”

I jumped out of bed and stripped, conscious of her eyes on me. When I was buck assed, I stood up and faced her. I wasn’t real shy about my body like she was but I was a little apprehensive about what she’d think. After all, unlike Michelle, I wasn’t the first guy she’d seen naked.

“You have a nice body and penis,” she said. God, did she sound formal.

“Kong,” I corrected.

“Kong?”

I pointed down to where my dick was waving in front of me.

“Him. His name is Kong.”

Her eyebrows went up and down and she giggled.

“You named your penis?”

“Sure! He’s a dick sometimes, but he’s my best friend. He’s got a couple of other friends, but they’re both nuts.”

She was laughing now as I hoped she would. She swept the covers back and patted the bed.

“You and Kong better get in here with me, we wouldn’t want him to get a head cold.”

We cuddled and kissed and fooled around until my balls ached from all the stimulation. Finally Rachael grabbed Kong and pulled me towards her.

“I want you in me, Johnny. I want to make love.”

“Let me get some protection,” I said.

“No need for that, unless you feel safer with a rubber. I’m still on the pill, it helps regulate my periods.”

Then I had to swallow my nerve and fess up.

“Umm, this is my first time Rachael and I’m really, really horny. I’m not gonna last long.”

She nodded solemnly. “I am honored to be your first. Now come on, let’s get the first one out of the way, so we can have fun.”

As advertised, I came within a few strokes of entering her. But Kong, bless his heart, stayed hard and we could continue. Rachael was hot and wet and very slick, especially after I came in her. Intercourse was just as good as I ever dreamed it would be. Rachael didn’t climax the first two times we did it but after a shower and a marathon round three she huffed and moaned and even screamed to a crashing orgasm. We stayed in bed all day playing around, I loved going down on her so I did that a lot.

We talked, too. She told me why she was so amazed by our lovemaking. Jesse, her ex, had a big dick and some sick ideas about how to treat a woman.

He made fun of how wet she got, calling her a slut and worse. He’d make her douche then he would cram himself into her when she was mostly dry. He liked the friction and got off on hurting her. I sincerely hoped that some big guy named Bubba was giving Jesse a taste of his own medicine up there at the penitentiary in Stark.

I went home in time for my midnight curfew. Rachael saw me out the door with a kiss. She was wearing a loosely belted black silk kimono that made me not want to leave. She told me how great the day had been and how much she loved the necklace I gave her for Christmas. She said she was going to miss me and she couldn’t wait until we could be together again.

This is how much she missed me. Three days after Christmas she called me.

“Johnny, I don’t think we should see each other any more,” she said.

Just like that, no how are you, no how was Christmas, just, “Johnny, I don’t think we should see each other any more.”

I disagreed with that completely and told her so.

“We’re getting too serious, Johnny, and you’re too young. I don’t want to ruin your life. This is the way it has to be.”

“What do you call what you are doing now if it’s not ruining my life?” I argued.

She was crying now, and I was, too.

“I’m sorry, Johnny, I really am.”

Then she hung up.

Happy New Year, Johnny Pulaski!

I think people have always thought I was mature for my age because I didn’t talk much. I never talked much because, like my father, I was a basically a shy person.

When I hit puberty I thought I could change that and it would help me with women. Well, those days were over. I withdrew into my room and spent the rest of the holidays seeing how miserable I could be.

My folks tried to talk to me but my dad was helpless in his own shyness and my mom was ill equipped to deal with a heartbroken teenage boy. She was a relentlessly pragmatic problem solver but the problems she excelled at didn’t involve relationships.

Even the Moose took a stab at it. But Katrina had thought all along that this is where my relationship with Rachael would end.

I was morosely studying calculus on the Wednesday after school restarted, when my grandfather came into my bedroom.

“Come with me, Johnny.”

“I have to study, Papa,” I protested.

He tossed me my jacket and said, “That wasn’t a request.”

We went out and got in his truck and he drove us out to a state park about ten miles from the house. Once at the park he let Jethro out of the truck and put down the tailgate. He sat down and patted the metal. I sullenly flopped down beside him. For a minute all we did was watch Jethro tear around the park, running full bore in great looping circles. Jethro ran with joyful abandon, his huge ears streaming out behind him, his oversized tongue lolling out of his mouth. My grandfather fired up his pipe and started talking.

“I’ve lost a lot of people in my lifetime, Johnny: my parents, my brother, my sister and scores of brothers in arms. I think about them a lot. I mourned their passing then got on with my life. It was never easy but I cinched up my rucksack and moved out.

“It’s time for you to do the same thing. Time to end your little pity party and rejoin the living. You are a Pulaski and that’s what we do. Now talk to me.”

So I told my grandfather the whole story, my voice breaking on occasion as I relived my hurt. He didn’t say anything other than an occasional “go on” to keep me talking. When I finished my story he knocked his pipe out on the heel of his hand and repacked it with tobacco.

“I know that this is probably not what you want to hear, son, but that girl did a lot for you. And she did it when she was fragile and vulnerable. Don’t judge her too harshly, she’s carrying a bigger load than you can imagine.”

I took my grandfather’s words to heart and tried to get on with my life. I started working out again with Stan and Richie, although now that Richie had a license he was a frequent no-show.

I talked to Michelle once in a while but I really had to force myself to do it. I was reverting to my old tongue tied self and couldn’t seem to stop the skid.

School was just a way to fill my days as I went mechanically through the motions of socializing and learning. Then things took a radical change in early February.

The cause of the change was a girl in my biology class. Her name was Caroline Hernandez. Caroline was smart. She was pretty. And she was painfully shy. She was the oldest of seven children and her being in high school was an iffy proposition because her family was strapped financially. Caroline was already baby-sitting as many as five nights a week to help out her family. Caroline and I weren’t friends, but we were nodding acquaintances because we also had the same homeroom and study hall.

I was on my way to social studies when I remembered that I had left my book in my locker. I resigned myself to being late and veered down the corridor to pick up my book just as the bell rang. I turned the corner and almost ran into a very frightened Caroline trying to pull her arm out of the grasp of an older looking Latino guy. He was saying something to her in Spanish and she was violently shaking her head. I pulled up short.

“This guy bothering you, Caroline?”

The guy spoke before she could. “Get lost, Dude, this ain’t none of your business,” he said.

I looked the guy over. He was about my size and wore the typical gangster uniform. He had a cruelly handsome face with medium length thick black hair. His fists were clenched. L-O-V-E was tattooed on the knuckles of one hand, H-A-T-E on the other.

“Then let her go, so it can keep being none of my business,” I said.

“If I let her go it’s gonna be so I can kick your ass,” he snarled.

I hadn’t been in a fight since a playground dust up in the sixth grade. My father and grandfather taught me how to defend myself. Fights just didn’t seem to happen to me.

“You don’t want to throw down here in the hall or we’ll both get suspended. You let her go, and you can explain it to me in the park behind the Baptist church after school,” I said.

He shoved Caroline away from him and barked something at her in Spanish. She scampered away in fright as he turned back to me.

“I’ll be there,” he said. “I’m gonna enjoy fucking up your pretty white boy face.”

The confrontation happened between fourth and fifth periods so I only had two hours before I was out the front doors and walking toward the park. Caroline was waiting on the sidewalk for me, her eyes brimming with tears.

“Don’t go over there, Johnny,” she pleaded, “Arturo is mean and he will hurt you.”

I shrugged, “If I don’t go he’ll just find me somewhere else. Might as well get it over with now. You go on home and tell your folks about him.”

She started to say something then spun around and left.

As I walked the two blocks to the park I thought about why I didn’t do more to defuse the situation with Mr. Arturo. I could have I was sure. But I think the truth was that all the anger I felt at Rachael jilting me made me unconsciously spoiling for a fight.

When I got to the park there were at least fifty kids there with more arriving by the minute. Word of the fight had spread like chicken pox. Arturo was standing with a couple of guys who could have been his clones when I walked up. I dropped my book bag and stood waiting for him. Arturo ambled over and took a boxers stance in front of me.

Arturo didn’t waste any time as he flicked a jab at me and began circling to my left. It didn’t take me long to figure out that I was in way over my head as he snapped off a lightning fast two punch combo that rocked me on my heels. Then he threw a flurry that left me sitting on my ass with a bloody nose.

That was a preview of Johnny Pulaski. To read the rest purchase the book.

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