Chronicles Of An Academic Predator - 42. Chapter 42

May 24, 1963

 

I didn't have classes or office hours on Friday, a luxury I'd allowed myself all semester. Based on all the shit I'd had to deal with this year, it turned out to be a good idea. My original thought was that on Fridays I could escape into my study and focus on whatever research project had captured my attention. In reality, it had turned into a day to get domestic things done. Today, though, I'd blocked out most of the day to watch the construction on my new condo and to do some shopping for things they'd need to finish it up. Things like cabinets, door knobs, faucets, etc. I'd committed to having all these bought by Monday, so I'd be busy over the next few days.

 

That exemplified how things had gone since I'd gotten back to Chicago. On Monday after class I'd gone to see the building manager about the 21^st floor, only to find that my parents had already bought and paid for it. Stunning. I felt like such a fraud about that, since I had my own money. Of course, they didn't know that. I felt sneaky with this secret wad of cash left to me by my grandfather. Still, it was reassuring.

 

But that wasn't the only thing. My dad had leaned on his contractor friend, the same guy that did the work on my office, and the work had started the next day. There were a few things I'd asked him to do that I think irritated him at first, but once he adopted my vision, he approached it with zeal. I told him that we had to do something about the windows. The place was just too damn cold in the winter. This was a challenge, because any new windows would have to exactly replicate the existing ones so the building looked the same externally. But this guy was resourceful, and he found some state-of-the-art double paned windows that were supposed to completely block the heat and cold. Neither one of us believed that claim, but we figured that it had to be better than the old ones. That cost me an extra $5000. Since there were no internal walls yet, it was a bare shell, I wanted extra insulation on the outer walls. That was much cheaper. Only an extra $1000.

 

Finally, the toughest part was the ceiling. I wanted tall ceilings, but the Condo had only been built for eight and a half feet spaces. There was much more space in between the condo and the floor above, but it would require re-routing pipes and drains, not to mention sound insulation and a custom crafted ceiling. Tack on an extra $7500 for that one. But when they were done, they'd pushed the ceilings up almost two feet, and that made the condo seem huge. Plus all the ceilings were done in solid wood paneling just like my office. I chose a light cherry color because I loved the reddish tone but didn't want it to be dark.

 

So here we were, ten days later, and they'd completed all of that work, and studs were up on all the internal walls. Today they were plumbing, then electrical, drywall, and finishing work. They were pushing to get it done by the end of the month. All I cared about was that it was finished by the time Isidore got here. I wanted her to feel comfortable and happy. In the end, the project was going to cost me between $50 and $60 thousand, but it would be worth it. It would be a palace.

 

My father did have an ulterior motive in doing this. He'd hinted that, with an election coming next year, he'd like to get involved in city politics. Crampton Construction had opened its satellite office in Chicago last month and was trying to get traction on local contracting. Part of that involved having good political connections to smooth over any permit issues. I had a feeling he'd want that to be my job. I'm not sure I wanted to do that, but we'd see.

 

Jason knocked on my door and asked me if I wanted breakfast. “You planning to go upstairs and check up on your own personal Versailles today?” he teased.

 

“Watch it buddy. You don't want to lose your grace and favor lodgings.” Grace and Favor lodgings referred to the apartments in the palace that the Kings of France let their courtiers live in.

 

“Careful your majesty,” he joked back, “the peasants may start revolting.”

 

“Or they may just be revolting?” Jason had really come out of his shell since we'd gotten rid of his mob problem. “You ready to defend your thesis next week?” I said changing the subject. Jason had worked like a fiend to complete his thesis, but he was nervous about his defense.

 

“I'm as ready as I'll ever be. I'm still nervous as hell.”

 

“Don't be. Besides, I'll be there, if you get nervous just look at me and I'll smile at you, or do this,” I said, putting my finger in my mouth like it was a dick and I was sucking on it.

 

“Great, then I'll be up there stammering and stuttering with a hard on.” I cracked up and he just shook his head and left for campus.

 

I went upstairs to check up on the guys. To be honest, there was some serious eye candy there, and I went up there to inspect frequently. What I was inspecting was a different matter. There was one guy up there that really caught my eye. His name was Rafael, and he was Hispanic. I wasn't sure from which country, but I heard one of the other guys teasing him about being a Cuban. He was tall, about 6'2”, and as befits a construction worker, really well built. He wore white t-shirts that were too short, so when he reached up to do something it exposed his lower stomach and his black treasure trail. His black hair was long, longer than was fashionable, and sometimes he pulled it into a pony tail. No one did that, so that made him seem more exotic. Finally, he wore tight jeans that bulged, really bulged in the crotch. I don't know where he found them, but they were tailored to fit him perfectly, like skin. And when he turned around and showed off his ass, they perfectly accentuated his tight little butt. Whenever Rafael was up there, I stayed longer. I wondered if he noticed.

 

Today, the place was empty. I began wandering around, checking things out, when I heard a noise on the other side of the condo. I walked toward the noise, but did it quietly, practically walking on my tip toes. There was a large vent that went from the floor to ceiling, and the space behind it was almost private, sheltered on the other side by the stairwell. As I peeked back there I saw two legs sticking out. I moved in more closely and peeked around the corner. There was Rafael, leaning back with a look of ecstasy on his face. Looking down, I saw that his pants were open and he had his cock out, hard as a rock, gently stroking it, while he used his other hand to play with his nipples.

 

I felt my cock harden as I watched him. He opened his eyes and looked alarmed, scared, and jerked up quickly. I moved my hand out as if to say “stay and he saw the tent in my pants. He smiled a knowing smile and leaned back again. I knelt between his legs and took his hard cock in my mouth. It was average length and girth, but it wasn't circumcised, and that always fascinated me. I worked on his pole, using all my talent. I felt him getting excited, tasted his pre-cum. It had a pleasant, almost sweet taste. I slowed a bit and teased him, looking up to meet his eyes. They were filled with lust, while he had a sexy grin on his face. I decided it was time, and I went back to work on his dick again, this time with a mission to make him cum. It didn't take long; in no time he was shooting his sweet load into my mouth. When he was done he tried to push me off, but I pushed him away and squeezed the last drops out of his cock and licked them up.

 

“Gracias,” he said.

 

“De nada,” I replied, and headed out to do my shopping. As I meandered through the hardware stores, I thought about my sluttiness. I really enjoyed blowing Rafael at the time. There was something dangerous and secret that made the encounter exciting, and at the same time there was the pleasure I got from giving him such obvious satisfaction. But now that it was over I felt cheap and dirty. I'd had these encounters for years and never felt this way, but I did now. I went downstairs and took a long shower. This used to be fun and exciting, but now I knew I'd give it up in a heartbeat when Jeff got here.

 

June 8, 1963

 

Graduation Day, with all of its fanfare, all of the proud students, and even prouder parents. It would really be a fun day if it weren't for that fucking song. I guess I am destined to hear “Pomp and Circumstance” once or twice a year for my entire career. And it wasn't like I only had to hear it once. It repeated over and over and over again. I should be excited too, since this is the first time I'd been seated on the dais, with full professorial regalia, taking my place as a member of the esteemed faculty. But there was that stupid song, grating in my brain, acting like fingernails on a chalkboard.

 

Now the music stopped, but it was replaced by monotonous speakers. I smiled to myself, trying to contemplate which was worse. The first man droned on, replaced by another man, then another. Finally Dr. Peterson went up and introduced all of us, the one time I'd have to pay attention. I stood up and took my applause just like my colleagues. Then it was diploma time. There were five of us delegated to hand them out and shake hands. I'd thought that the older professors would want the honor of doing the task, but their basic introverted personalities recoiled at that, so it fell to the more junior members of the faculty. I was last in line to shake hands, while Adams got the suckiest job: reading all the names.

 

We had two doctoral candidates, and they both went by. I politely shook their hands; I really didn't know them. Then came the four master's candidates. The first three went by without incident, but when Jason got to me he gave me a big hug. I smiled, even after Peterson glared at me for violating university protocol. Not like it's codified. I thought about what the language would look like if it was codified: “The professor shall grip the student's hand firmly and shake once, at which time no other part of their bodies shall touch.” That almost made me laugh outright, which probably would have been another violation.

 

Then came the undergraduates, all 67 of them. I'd had half of them in one of my advance level classes. When they walked by, if one of them had taken my class and knew me, they'd hug me. Peterson just glared at me, and I just went with it. I was normally so reserved and controlled, it seemed ridiculous that I should turn into the “hugging professor.”

 

After the ceremony concluded we went down to mingle with the students and parents. Peterson cornered me. “What the hell was that all about Dr. Crampton?”

 

“I honestly don't know sir. A spontaneous gesture of affection. I really had no idea it was going to happen, but with all the parents sitting there, it seemed best to just go with it.”

 

He studied me severely. “I suppose you're right,” he grumbled, and moved off.

 

Then Dr. Broughton came up to me and said “Well look who we have here. It's the hugging professor.” He laughed and I joined him, even though the laughter was at my own expense. Making jokes like that was so out-of-character for him. I wondered wryly if that nickname would stick.

 

June 9, 1963

 

Isidore was due to arrive at 5PM tonight, so that gave me a few hours to complete one more important errand. If I was going to drive her and Ace to Claremont, I'd need something besides the Corvette. At the same time, I loved my car. Interestingly enough, I ended up with six parking spaces to go with my whole floor, so I decided to splurge and get an extra, bigger car.

 

So last night, in order to avoid thinking about sex and getting in trouble, I'd focused on figuring out what kind of car I should buy. I didn't want a station wagon. I just couldn't handle that. I wanted a convertible, but I figured that in the winter that might be too cold for Ace. So that left me with a Sedan. Then I had to decide what kind. The first criterion was that it had to be a General Motors vehicle, of course. The new Cadillacs were too massive and hulking. My mother had an Oldsmobile, and I didn’t want to look like I was copying her. A Chevrolet was too plebeian (my father would freak). So that left Pontiacs and Buicks. Even though I’d loved my Pontiac, in the end I decided on a Buick. I planned to hail a cab and go to the nearest Buick dealer, my pockets stuffed with cash and my checkbook.

 

I walked into the kitchen to find Jason there, as usual. “Hey Jason, what are you doing today?”

 

“Nothing planned.”

 

“Wanna come with me? I'm going to buy a new car and then pick up Isidore and Ace.” He looked thoughtful for a minute.

 

“Sure, why not.”

 

We got to the dealer and got mobbed by salesmen, as usual. I picked the cutest guy and he showed us a bunch of cars. I liked the new Riviera. It was cool and it had a big trunk. The Electra would have been more practical, and cheaper, but I didn't want to drive a hulk around, and if Isidore drove, she wouldn't want to either; I reasoned that cars in Europe are smaller.

 

Jason watched me dither over the choices. I think he was as frustrated as the salesman. “JP, you don't want the Electra. It's not you. Get the Riviera.” I caught the salesman's look of relief, so I decided to torture them both.

 

“I don't know Jason. The Electra has some cool features. Let's go look at it again.” I waited for effect, and then I started laughing. “OK, you're right, let's do the Riviera.”

 

They had two, one was the base model and the other was loaded. The leather interior and wood dash pushed the price up to about $4200 after I was done bargaining. The guy argued with me on price until I pulled out $3000 in cash and offered to write a check for the rest. So, with time to spare, Jason and I drove my new Buick to the airport to pick up Isidore.

 

We waited by the gate for the lumbering jet to maneuver in. As a bonus, I'd sprung for First Class so Isidore would have room with Ace, which meant they were almost the first ones off the plane. Isidore looked great. She must have taken some of the money I'd given her and bought some new clothes. She wore a chic suit that accentuated her slim body, and her curved hips and large breasts. I didn't remember her boobs being that big, but then I remembered that she was breast feeding Ace. Her brown hair was coiffed perfectly, even after a grueling flight. When they passed through the gate and she spotted me, a huge smile spread across her face and she ran over and gave me a big hug.

 

“It is so good to see you JP. It has been a long trip. Customs and Immigration was not fun. You may not get me to go back if only to avoid that again.” I laughed and led the way to baggage claim.

 

“Isidore, this is Jason. He doesn't speak French, though.” She smiled at Jason and held out her hand to him which he shook cautiously. The look on his face was hysterical: that 'love at first sight' thing.

 

“What happened to Jeff?” she asked. She must have thought I'd dumped Jeff for Jason. That made me chuckle.

 

“He's finishing up school. Jason and I aren't romantically involved. He's my assistant, and a very good friend. He's very heterosexual, and if I'm not mistaken, he's about to get a big crush on you.” She giggled. Jason looked at me, oblivious, since he didn't understand spoken French well enough to figure out what the fuck we were saying.

 

Ace was not happy. He cried relentlessly until Isidore handed him to me. Then he shut up. What a great feeling! I walked around with him, patting his back, waiting for the luggage. Jason gave me a goofy look, like he couldn't wait to give me shit about being a daddy. A porter helped us drag the baggage out to the car and loaded it in. I tossed him a buck and held the door for Isidore and Ace. As soon as she got settled she whipped out a boob to feed him. That really shut him up. Just like his father, I smiled. Jason just stared unabashed.

 

“Jason, quit staring,” I told him, and he blushed three shades of red.

 

“This car still smells new,” Isidore said.

 

“It is. I bought it a few hours ago.” She looked at me strangely. “My other car is too small, and I planned to drive us to Claremont, my home town, next week.”

 

“More traveling?” she asked exhaustedly.

 

“My parents want to meet you. And Jeff is graduating.” She grinned at me.

 

“But my English is not so good,” she said, concerned.

 

“My mother is French, from Champagne. And my cousin Stefan was raised in Paris. Along with Jeff, all three speak fluent French, as does my brother.” She looked relieved that there would at least be people there she could communicate with.

 

The straightest route home was to take Touhy, which wasn't terribly exciting. As we approached the Lake, though, and the skyline came into view, Isidore was impressed.

 

“Such big buildings. I've always wanted to live in a tall building.” she said.

 

“Good,” I said.

 

We pulled up to the condo and parked next to the Corvette. “Is that your other car?” she asked.

 

“Yes. It's a bit tight for three people.”

 

The elevators had to be changed, since I had the whole floor. Next to the 21 button there was a key lock. Anyone else who hit 21 would go up to the floor and a “door bell” would sound. They wouldn't be able to exit the elevator until they were buzzed in. I pulled out my key, turned it and we whisked up. I smiled when Isidore held her ears, but stopped smiling when Ace woke up and complained about it. Neither the elevator ride nor Ace’s bad mood lasted long.

       

The elevator doors opened onto the newly completed condo. Isidore's eyes bulged at the sight of it. It was truly magnificent. The elevators opened directly into the living room, so as soon as you walked out the whole vista of the Lake exploded into view. She seemed so transfixed she couldn't move.

 

“Come on Isidore, let me show you your room, and Ace's.” Jason vanished, slipping off to his room.

 

“Who is Ace?” she asked.

 

“It's the nickname Jeff gave to Andre Charles. I hope that is okay with you?”

 

She smiled. “I think he will like it when he is old enough to understand.”

 

I showed her to her room, which was on the north side of the building looking toward campus. I'd gotten the basic furnishings. I led her through a connecting door into Ace's room. This one I'd kind of gone nuts on, getting all the little shit you need for babies. A crib, rocking chair, changing table, dresser, etc. And it was all done in shades of blue.

 

“JP, it is beautiful. I cannot believe you went to all this trouble for us.” A tear rolled down her face.

 

“Here Isidore, let's put Ace down to sleep.” We slid him into his crib and he seemed contented. I led her into the kitchen and offered her something to drink.

 

“Let me show you my second favorite room,” I said and led her into the rec room, as I'd decided to call it. There were some toys in it, but the biggest thing was its size. Ace could ride a trike or whatever around in here with no problem.

 

“You built this palace for us?” she asked.

 

“Well, yeah, kind of. For you, Ace, Jeff and me. And maybe Stefan if he comes to visit, and Jason if he decides to stay in Chicago.”

 

She started crying and hugged me tightly. I wasn't used to women. This was going to take an adjustment. We went over to the table in the kitchen and sat down.

 

“Two months ago, before I met you, I was worried that Andre, or, how do you say it, Ace?” I laughed. Her pronunciation sounded more like Ass. “Anyway, I was worried that we'd end up in the streets, that I'd have to end up as a whore to support us. I was scared, worried, and so guilty that I'd brought my baby into a world that would only contain hardship.” She bit back some tears.

 

“And then you and Jeff show up like knights in shining armor and whisk us off to this palace. And I don't even have to have sex with you.” We both started laughing.

 

“I read your letter to Andre, and you seemed worried that your father would marry you off to some local villager. I thought that was more the way of France?”

 

She looked taken aback. “Then you do not know the ways of France, monsieur. My family is petite noblesse. Even though we don't have much land, and much money, we have pride. Lots of that. My father would rather me give birth and raise a bastard than marry a peasant farmer.”

 

“I'm sorry. I didn't realize the, uh, status of your family. It sounds very much like my mother's in Champagne.”

 

“I do not mean to be severe, but you can see how ridiculous that is. So I cannot marry a peasant, but I can live in Paris and become a whore. These attitudes are out-dated and even dangerous. My father seems to think I was the town slut, but Andre was my first.”

 

I studied her carefully. “Really?” came out of my mouth before I could stop it.

 

“You do not believe me either; I can see it in your eyes. Did you plan to lure me over here because you thought I was an easy woman?”

 

“Do you have a penis?” I asked. She looked at me funny, and then we both laughed.

 

“Isidore, I'm sorry, I just didn't realize that Andre was your first. I have no reason to doubt you, and quite frankly, I don't care if you've been with other men or not. You are tired; you have had a long journey. I am not used to dealing with women, as you may imagine. Let us be more, uh, understanding, Okay?”

 

“JP, you are right. Forgive me. People have been looking at me as if I screwed half of France. You are offering me a new start, and I am indebted to you.”

 

“Does this mean you might stay?” I asked.

 

“How could I leave after all you have prepared for us?”

 

June 13, 1963

 

Isidore and Ace had settled in just great. I found that Ace was bringing out paternal instincts I never dreamed I had. One night, when he couldn't sleep, I picked him up and climbed in bed with Isidore and just laid him across my chest. I was just wearing boxers, so my chest was bare. His little head rested right over my heart and I think the thumping just sang him to sleep. She opened up her eyes and stared at me briefly, smiling.

 

The more I was around her, the more she impressed me. My original thought was that she was from French peasant stock, used to roughing it, used to life being tough, turned out to be completely wrong. Her redoubtable attitude was just her way of coping with stress. I ‘d been worried that my mother would think the same thing, that she was from a peasant family, and sneer internally. French society was quite stratified. But I knew now that I was mistaken. This past week, surrounded by the elegance of the condo and the removal of worries about where she'd eat and sleep, a graciousness reminiscent of my mother began to emerge. If I would have picked Isidore as my wife, my French relatives would probably have given their blessing, grudgingly, as was their way.

 

But as attached as I was getting to Isidore, it was nothing compared to Jason. If she wasn't in her room, or Ace's, he'd be hanging out with her, helping her speak English or trying to learn French. His ear for pronunciation was horrendous, so I think Isidore learning English was the more likely result. Between the two of us, we tried to talk up the wonders of the U.S., this great country we called home.

 

All that bombastic praise for the U.S. had turned out to be pretty embarrassing last night. We'd been watching the news and the main story was all about the racial tension in the South. France has its own racial issues, but not like the U.S. One scene showed Governor Wallace of Alabama physically blocking the door to The University of Alabama to stop Negro students from registering there. Then President Kennedy had made a landmark speech calling for Civil Rights Legislation. The response? The murder of Negro activist Medgar Evers. How do you explain to someone that the U.S. is the best country in the world when we persecute and murder our Negros just because they're colored?

 

Now as we drove through Indiana and Ohio, heading to Claremont, Isidore just stared at the countryside in amazement, reacting like most Europeans did when they saw the vastness of America. “There is so much room, so much open space here.” A strength to partially counter our social ills; acres and acres of land. We'd left early in the morning, might as well since Ace got us up, so we made it to Claremont around 4PM. I had spent much of our trip explaining all the intricacies of Claremont society to Isidore and preparing her for all the people she’d be meeting. I jabbered on as we turned up Skyline and found the private drive, and then finally we arrived.

 

She carried Ace in while Jason and I got the bags. We went in through the kitchen, and of course Vella was there to meet us. “Well who have we got here? Now miss, you just let me hold this pretty baby,” said Vella as she almost ripped Ace out of Isidore’s arms. I gave Isidore a reassuring look. Vella enveloped him in her arms and he seemed completely content. I laughed. “Come on,” I said, and led Isidore into the living room. Jason took that opportunity to escape, heading over to Vella's to see Sammy and Jeff.

 

My parents were there, and my mother, gracious as always, rose quickly to greet Isidore. Isidore seemed thrilled to find a fellow Frenchwoman here in this obscure part of America. After a brief greeting to my father, the two of them vanished into the house to see the guest room and temporary nursery they'd set up. Vella tagged along with Ace.

 

“Well JP, I didn't expect you to show up with a woman and a baby after our last conversation.” I stared at him, stunned, until he realized I was joking. I just laughed and gave him a big hug.

 

“Dad, come on, I want to show you my new car. I had to get a bigger one for Ace and Isidore.” I dragged him out to the garage and showed him the Riviera. He was impressed. He looked all over it. I spotted some movement out of the corner of my eye and saw Jeff walking over to the house. “Be right back Dad,” I said, both to tell him I was leaving and to warn him not to look.

 

I ran over to Jeff and hugged him for the longest time. “You're making a scene baby,” he whispered.

 

“Sorry,” I said. “Come see my new car.”

 

The three of us spent a good amount of time exploring the Riviera. I hadn't gotten a chance to bond with it much. “It's almost the same color as the Corvette,” Jeff said. “You're stuck in a rut.”

 

“It's all they had on the lot, smart ass, and I was in a hurry to get to the airport.”

 

Jeff looked at me with raised eyebrows. “You bought it on your way to the airport? That's a bit impulsive for JP Crampton, don't you think?” My father grinned at my discomfort.

 

I rolled my eyes at him. “Come on in and say hi to Ace. Maybe he still likes you.” He trailed after me as we wandered into the house. Isidore and my mother were still in the guest room. When Jeff came in my mother walked over and put her arm in his, her way of telling the world that she liked him. Isidore, much more self-conscious around my mother, gave Jeff a demi hug and a kiss like my mother did. Andre had gone to France and found his very own version of my mother. That thought was disturbing, so I squelched it before it ruined my mood.

 

They were busy chattering so I drug Jeff off to my room where I could say hello more appropriately. I locked the door and planted my lips on his firmly.

 

“JP, they're right next door. We should be careful.” he said.

 

“They'll have to get used to it,” I said, as I dropped to my knees and pulled out his hardening cock. He stopped objecting when I took him into my mouth.

 

June 14, 1963

 

After a night of mad, passionate love making, I woke up more tired than I probably should have been. The fatigue didn't last long though. The long shower I took and the realization that this was Graduation Day, again, perked me up considerably. At least until it dawned on me that I'd hear more of that fucking song. Oh well, nothing could be entirely perfect.

 

I found Isidore in the living room with Ace. She’d put a blanket down on the floor and was playing with him. I knelt down next to her and poked his tummy playfully.

 

“It sounded like you had fun last night,” Isidore said with a raised eyebrow.

 

“I did. Hope you don't mind the noise. You'll probably hear it a lot.”

 

She laughed. “No, it was cute. You make funny noises.” That made me blush, which made her laugh harder. She didn't know that I really hated being teased about personal things like my orgasmic sounds. I got up and headed for the kitchen. She'd figure it out soon enough.

 

I stuffed some food into my face and headed back to my room to get all dressed to the nines. I had a green suit that almost perfectly matched my eyes, got my hair to poof just the way I wanted it to, and stood back to admire my handiwork. I was a handsome guy, if I do say so myself. Except for the short and scrawny body, I thought, with a scowl. Back in the living room everyone had started to assemble. Jeff and Stefan had already left, taking Jason with them. My mother looked exquisite as always, and my father looked the part of the leading citizen. But the most stunning was Isidore. She'd gone to get changed when I did, and she looked great. She had light brown eyes, almost the color of my light cherry ceiling, and she'd found a skirt and jacket that matched them much as I'd done.

 

I stood next to her and thought about what a handsome couple we made. Sally, Tonto's maid, had volunteered to babysit, so the four of us headed out. Abe and Vella were already on their way. We took my father's Cadillac. He'd gotten a new '63 at the beginning of the year, same blue color, but I hadn't had a chance to ride in it yet. It was nice but big. Too damn big.

 

This being Claremont, there was a reserved section for the town dignitaries. My parents guided us over there and made them add two extra chairs for me and Isidore. We sat next to Tonto and Barry, whom I introduced to Isidore. For the town matron, Tonto always managed to look frumpy, especially when she was flanked by Isidore and my mother. I felt mildly ridiculous, sitting there off to the side as if I was some modern day aristocrat. I had a strong urge to stand up and shout “let them eat cake,” but that would certainly fly in the face of decorum.

 

And then it started, that hideous song. It played while the graduates filed in. I saw Jeff and Stefan, both looking incredibly handsome. And I saw Carol, looking none-too-happy. She certainly didn't look pregnant. What a little bitch. I scanned the crowd and, much to my surprise, I spotted Fred Hayes and his ancient-looking wife. That woman's life must be a living hell. I wasn't expecting them to be here. I guess Jeff was their son, even if they didn't deserve him.

 

And then the music stopped, and a man got up and talked, followed by a lady, and then another man. I almost wished the music would come back, but then it did and I regretted my wish. Would I never learn? Jeff and Stefan were among the first to cross the aisle, and we all cheered enthusiastically for them. I noticed that the Hayes' didn't move at all when Jeff got his diploma. Assholes. There were a lot of students at the combined high school so handing out the diplomas took forever. Finally it was over, the horrible song stopped, and the graduates tossed their hats into the air. Then the crowd erupted into an orgy of hugs.

 

We got up and made our way toward Jeff and Stefan. We got to Stefan first. I introduced him to Isidore and the little shit turned on the charm right away. I just shook my head. Isidore seemed to have his number right from the start though. She flirted harmlessly, keeping him at a distance, but not so far away that he lost interest. I scanned the crowd for Jeff and saw him cornered with his parents. I headed over there to save him.

 

“So when you gonna get a job like a real man?” asked Fred.

 

“When I get out of college,” said Jeff with venom in his voice I rarely saw.

 

“College? What a waste of time. You been hanging out with those fancy pants people up in the Heights and now you think you're too good to work.” I pondered how an idiot like Fred Hayes could father such a great guy like Jeff.

 

“Congrats Jeff,” I said moving up next to him.

 

“Well if it isn't Mr. College Professor. Guess I don't have to be nice to you now, not much you can do to me since they forced me out of the mill.”

 

I eyed him coldly. “Don't bet on that.” We stood there, Jeff glaring at him while I just gave him my cold stare.

 

“What business you got butting into a family conversation?” his mother interjected.

 

I looked at Jeff. “You done talking to your parents?”

 

“Yep,” he said, and we walked away. I heard Fred yell a few choice words at me but I ignored him. It seems that since he left the mill he'd become more and more unhinged. Still, for Jeff's sake, I avoided any public displays of affection.

 

We all headed over to Tonto's house. She was hosting a graduation party for both Jeff and Stefan, and had told them to invite their friends. Isidore was uncomfortable because her English wasn't good and she wanted to go home to be with Ace, so my parents drove us home first. Jason decided to skip the party too. I think he wanted to hang around Isidore. I took that opportunity to pick up the Riviera so I could come home when I wanted.

 

I got back to Tonto's and the party was in full swing. Everyone was drinking heavily so I figured I might as well too. This was going to be quite the celebration since it started at around 4pm. By 10pm, there weren't many sober people left. The older denizens like my parents started leaving until there were only teenagers left, plus me and Tonto. We sat in the kitchen chatting about nothing in particular. I had stopped drinking a while back and I was sober enough to go home, so I headed out to find Jeff and tell him I was leaving.

 

I wandered around the downstairs area and couldn't find him. I couldn't find Stefan either. I smiled. That little slut. I headed upstairs and heard noises from Stefan's room. I opened the door and there was Stefan, driving into Carol while Jeff fucked him. Carol being there bothered me. It bothered me a lot. But at the same time, seeing Stefan getting drilled was a turn on. Jeff saw me and looked worried. He smiled at me, as if asking me to be cool with this. I closed the door and walked over to Stefan and kicked off my pants and took my hardening cock and pushed his mouth onto it.

 

I was standing right over Carol now and she said, “Ew gross, I don't want to look at your balls.” I smiled at Jeff and Stefan and squeezed my legs together, holding her head between them, and lowered myself down so my ass was almost in her face. She was pitching a bitch but the three of us just laughed. Then I farted and she screamed, pushed away from Stefan and threw her clothes on.

 

“You're a pig,” she said, glaring at me.

 

“And you're a whore,” I countered. She tried to slap me but I caught her hand. Her eyes blazed fire and she tore out of the room and down the stairs.

 

“Now where were we gentlemen?” I said, and jammed my cock back into Stefan's mouth.