Chapter 25

Wednesday-Thursday, May 30-31

My second lesson from the Arlene Jenson Academy for Incorrigible Boys was every bit as enjoyable as the first with the added bonus that it was my first time in bed as opposed to on top of the comforter with Kacie.

It’s not that we tried anything new or different, it’s more that I was able to relax without having to worry about anyone walking in on us and simply let the experience wash over me. So many of my couplings with Kacie (and both with Morgan) had such a frantic quality that the end result was pretty much all that mattered.

With Arlene, the journey was just as important as the destination.

The oral session included further advanced instruction (I really needed to figure a way to take notes on the subject other than “There! Right there!”). By the time she sat astride me and resumed the equestrian act with rolling hips and gripping thighs, I was ready to renounce my religion for her. And I think she knew that.

Despite knowing my true age and the legal risk she was facing, Arlene seemed to abandon herself to the experience, making it that much better for both of us. I think part of that was due to being in the privacy and security of her own home.

Although it felt like we’d done more tonight than Saturday, less time had passed from beginning to end. It was still pushing 10:30 when she sent me to shower.

“One of these days, we are going to get to cuddle after,” Arlene said, standing in the doorway of her bathroom wearing a dressing gown as I rushed through another shower.

I just hoped neither Mom nor Kacie got close enough to me to catch the floral scent of Arlene’s soap when I got home.

“Maybe you can advise Kacie and Morgan on the matter,” I said as I began rinsing the suds off my body, “I haven’t had a chance to cuddle with them, either.”

Arlene got a thoughtful look on her face at that. I quickly finished washing, toweled off and grabbed my clothes. If nothing else, my time with Arlene was teaching me how to bathe faster.

With one last kiss and a promise to see each other at the pool the next day, I slipped out the back door and into my car.

I walked into the house just before 11 p.m.

“I was just about to send out a search party,” Mom said from the shadows, obviously trying to spook me. I hated to tell her she’d pulled the trick so often that I now expected it.

“Don’t pay the ransom, Mom, I escaped,” I said, reciting another of Dad’s favorite lines.

“Where were you?” she asked.

“Out driving, learning how my car handles,” I said, a statement that was not totally untrue. “It’s too fun a ride to just leave it sitting in the driveway all day.”

“Where did you go?”

“The north shore of the lake and some of the country roads around there,” I said. “I spent quite a bit of time driving the curvy parts. It was educational.”

Well, I had gotten educated on curvy parts, right?

“Did you eat?”

“The Catfish Place on the north shore. There was only one other customer in there.”

“That old place is still there?”

“It was tonight,” I said. “It looked like it might fall down the next strong wind.”

“It looked that way 20 years ago,” she said. “Get to bed. You’ve got work in the morning.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Kacie was waiting for me at the bathroom door. As I feared, she took a sniff when I walked by.

“Now, where did you really go?” she asked as I began brushing my teeth.

“Like I told Mom, the north shore of the lake,” I said after a rinse and spit. “Had dinner at The Catfish Place.”

“Then why do you smell like a ladies’ soap?” she accused before figuring out the answer on her own. “OMG! You were with Arlene again!”

“Quiet!” I hissed. “Mom might hear!”

“What are you going to tell Morgan?” Kacie asked.

“The same thing I’m about to tell you: She figured it out about you and me,” I said. “That means Mom’s either figured it out herself or is about to.”

Kacie just looked sick. I pulled her into a hug as she started shaking.

It wasn’t lost on me that every time I’d had sex with Arlene Jenson, I wound up with a crying girl in my arms within a half hour.

I don’t know how long I stood there with Kacie holding on for dear life, trying desperately to not make a noise that would alert Mom. She eventually allowed me to lead her to her bed and tuck her in. With a kiss on her forehead, I went back to my room.

Kacie looked no better the next morning. Mom was quick to pick up on the fact that something was out of kilter, though for the wrong reason.

“Starting early this month, Honey?” Mom asked. “That happens to me sometimes, too. I’ve got some tablets that’ll help. I’ll get you a couple before I leave.”

Kacie neither confirmed nor denied the onset of her period, which was due within the next two days, but I took mom’s reaction as something of a good sign. If she really did know what we’d been up to, she wasn’t letting on. I didn’t think my mother was that good an actress, but I’ve been wrong before.

I headed over to Jed’s and we once again did our running on the fairways of the back nine. He brought his football with him so we could get in some snaps if time permitted. He was of the opinion we could do our lower-body lifting at the Activity Center’s gym, which had a row of Bowflex machines. While the football coaches dictated free weights were the way to go, Jed said any work was better than none and the club facility would allow more guys to work out at the same time.

This time, we tucked our shirts into the waistbands of our shorts to keep them relatively clean and took a quick wash in the sink in the men’s changing room before we dressed and headed over to the tennis center.

Serge, the tennis pro, was waiting for us and a couple of the other guys were already there. All I knew about Serge was he was originally from one of the Balkan countries and had a totally unpronounceable (and unspellable) Slavic last name. I couldn’t have told you if he was Bosniak, Serb, Croat, Slovene or what. I do know he was on the pro tour for a few years before taking over from the former pro who got caught entertaining lady members in the shagging shacks.

Mr. Alvarez, Mr. Ferguson and Mom were there to lend a hand if needed. Mom already had my stuff laid out since she knew my sizes. I still had to go through the process of trying it all on just to make sure.

The gear included two pairs of tennis shorts (I don’t know why I expected Bermuda shorts when we were being outfitted by the tennis shop) and four polo shirts in various pastel shades (but no pink!) with the club logo on the left breast. I was surprised they were providing us with tennis shoes. Mr. Alvarez said the soles would provide a good grip on the wet pool deck, not that we’d do any running, but were expected to move “briskly.” A package of ankle socks topped it all off.

As Serge and Mr. Alvarez helped Jed and his teammates, I was amazed to learn they actually made tennis gear in those sizes. I was further amazed that Serge had enough of those sizes in stock to outfit 15 guys, not one of whom weighed less than 250 pounds. We must have some very large tennis players at Prairie Star.

It took a couple of hours to get everybody taken care of, then Mr. Alvarez had us load everything up and head back to the Activity Center. I wish I could have had a bird’s-eye view of 15 very large young men carrying shopping bags across the parking lot. I’m sure some of the lady members must have wondered what we were buying.

In the men’s changing room, Mr. Alvarez showed us the corner we were assigned to, gave us baskets and showed us our dedicated laundry hamper, then told us to get changed after everything else was put away. He also gave us Sharpie pens and had us put our basket number and initials inside each article of clothing. I felt like Mom was sending me off to sleepaway camp.

Once we were ready, Mr. Alvarez came in with another shopping bag, handing out bottles of SPF 45 sunscreen and wide-brimmed floppy hats.

“You’ll need this, even you gentlemen of color,” he said. “You’re going to be out in the sun for hours at a time and skin damage will be an issue. Just ask our lifeguards. If you don’t want to have a doctor cutting off pieces of your face in 20 or 30 years, you will use this.

“Wear the hats and stay hydrated. I don’t want anybody keeling over because of heat stroke.”

All of the football players were well aware of the dangers of heat-related illness, something they were lectured about repeatedly when they began practice each August when temperatures regularly exceeded 100 degrees. Almost every year, there would be an article in the newspaper about a high school or college player collapsing or even dying from excessive heat. Jed said the coaches always posted those on the bulletin board in the locker room as a reminder.