Leaving Home Chapter 6

Leaving Home
Chapter 6

The one good thing about canceling our trip to Santee was that I could phone Jeremy, the head pro at Farmstead, about some lessons for Jennie. We met with him on the range at 11:00 on Friday morning. I spent an hour hitting balls while Jeremy improved Jennie’s technique. I could help her, but Jeremy had the technical knowledge that I lacked. He was also a 2-handicap while I was a 15. They worked together on putting for about fifteen minutes before we loaded our bags onto a cart and went out to play a round. In my opinion, Farmstead is a reasonably easy course with wide fairways on most holes. What makes it unique is the 18th hole, 674 yards from the men’s tees, and a par 6. It’s the only par six that I know of.

Jennie and I played slowly, but I thought she did well, scoring three pars while shooting a 112. In another month, she’d be under a hundred, for sure.

We thanked Jeremy, and I gave him $150, telling him we’d see him again on Monday. Jennie was positively glowing on the ride home. “Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. I had such a wonderful time. I had no idea golf was such a scientific sport.”

“I suspect you could say that about all sports. As casual observers, we’re unaware of all the technicalities.” Jennie reached over and took my hand in hers. We were back in the driveway fifteen minutes later. We were just in time to meet with the new cleaning contractor. After checking the house, he said he would charge $75 weekly. That was more than May had charged, but I doubted they would stick their noses into my business.

Jennie and I went into the shower before going out to dinner. Instead of a big meal, I drove back almost to Farmstead, stopping at Christopher’s for pizza and beer. I was initially from Long Island, New York, and there were over half a million Italian Americans and plenty of pizza joints. Most of the pizza I’d found here just sucked, but Christopher was originally from Brooklyn, and his pizza showed it.

We sat in the simple restaurant and ordered two Yuengling’s and a large pie—extra cheese and sausage. We enjoyed our beer as we watched a golf tournament on one of the TV’s. I saw Jennie thinking about how the pros planned and executed their shots. Ten minutes later, our pie arrived, and we ate. Knowing Jennie, I doubted that we’d have any leftovers. We didn’t. There wasn’t even a scrap left on Jennie’s plate. “I’m sure you realize pizza isn’t big in Iowa. Well, that’s not true. It is big if you like Pizza Hut. This was much better. I liked it.”

I couldn’t suppress a chuckle as I replied, “I noticed.” Jennie turned the most delightful shade of red. I leaned across the table and gave her a quick kiss. “You’re also beautiful when you blush. Speaking about beauty, I just had an idea. We should get you an appointment to get your hair and nails done. I know of a good place for a manicure, but you should get a pedicure, too.”

I asked our waitress if she knew of a good beauty parlor in the area. She laughed. “Take a good look at my hair. It’s in a ponytail for a reason. I’ll ask some other women, though, if you want.” I did, and she returned about ten minutes later, dropping the bill on the table. She also gave me a piece of paper with “Carla’s” and a phone number. “It’s not called Carla’s anymore,” she said, “but nobody could recall the new one. They said the phone number is the same, though.” I knew where Carla’s was—right across the street from Holden Brothers’ huge farm store. I’d gone there several times in the fall to buy tomatoes, peppers, and even North Carolina apples. I never knew apples could be grown in North Carolina, but I’d never be described as a farmer.

The following month was hectic for the two of us. We could play golf twice a week even though the weather was chilly. I met with a locksmith and selected a high-quality lockset and deadbolt for my front and garage doors. He also recommended a device that would effectively secure my sliding glass door. I had already changed the code for my house alarm. Next was a fence.

I met with two contractors who had experience with wrought iron estate fencing. Both had excellent references, including three churches, a funeral parlor, and the county’s richest man. They were close, but I chose the more expensive one because he could start immediately. The previous owner had installed large stone pillars on either side of the driveway. They were perfect for the remote-controlled gate I wanted. A concrete footing every eight feet would serve as a strong base for the vertical posts, with additional stone columns at every corner. The dock would also have a gate with a numerical keypad on each side for better security.

Jennie had been studying the DMV manual online for two days when her new birth certificate arrived. I was pleased, but I could see that Jennie had her concerns. “Are you sure this is safe, Doug?”

“I think we would have had a visit from the police or homeland security if it wasn’t. They sent the birth certificate instead. I’ll bet that even that small county gets dozens of requests yearly. It’s just a routine deal. How many reasons for getting a new one can we think of? Fire? Flood?”

“Lost while moving?”

“Sure, probably more than all the others combined. How about eaten by a pet?”

“Okay…how about eaten by a kid?”

“Was that something from your sordid past?”

“No, but I would have done anything to escape from that loser and my non-mother.”

“I know, and you did it, didn’t you?”

“I would have done it sooner if I had known you’d take me in.” That remark was accompanied by a sly smile that I returned as I sent her back to work. I connected to my wi-fi through a new laptop I’d bought. The stolen one was still in the police's hands as evidence of the theft. Using the computer, I could access my investment program, where I learned I had earned over $50,000 over the past weekend. I kept the program running even though my current investments earned me millions every week. I would donate virtually every dollar to selected charities before the end of the year.

Since the 9/11 tragedy, the state has required much more stringent identification, so on Wednesday morning, I drove Jennie to Conway, South Carolina, so that she could get a social security card. She used the same story she had told the clerk in Tennessee, except this time, she told the clerk that she had no idea if her parents had requested a card for her as the entire contents of their house had been consumed in the fire. For Jennifer Marie Townsend, born in Tennessee on August 4, 1992, nothing was on file, so she walked out with a new card. From there, we went to my bank, where I transferred $2,000,000 from one of my investments to Jennie's checking and savings account.

Once she had received a statement, she would need only two more things—a cell phone bill addressed to her at my, or our, address and proof that she had been added to my automobile insurance.

“I’ve thought about getting a lease agreement and charging you rent. That’s another form of identification the DMV accepts.”

“I’m paying you rent,” she asked in shock.

“No, of course not, but a rental lease is much easier for you than a utility or cable bill. Of course, I’d be open to bartering…services for rent or meals.” I couldn’t hide the grin.

“If that were true, you’d wind up owing me money after the first day,” she replied with a grin.

“Too true,” I said as I leaned over for a quick kiss before resuming our trip to Dr. Whitney’s office. We had a 4:30 appointment, so I thought we’d be lucky to wait less than an hour. We stayed for less than half that and went in together again.

“I’m not accustomed to seeing two patients at once,” Dr. Whitney announced when she walked through the door. “But if that’s what you want….”

She shuffled through some papers before sharing my test results. “Douglas, you’re fine—no sign of any STDs.” She listened to my breathing and heartbeat before shooing me from the table and addressing Jennie. “Jennifer, most of your tests are perfectly normal—exactly what I would expect of someone your age. Unfortunately, you do have Chlamydia. There are two primary antibiotics—Doxycycline and Azithromycin. Of the two, I much prefer the Azithromycin. If you take a seven-day dose, it will be in your system for fourteen. That should be more than enough to clear it up. I don’t know how long you’ve had it, but there are some reasons to be concerned. Do you know who might have given it to you?”

I explained how Jennie and I had met and her life during her five years on the road. “She’s lucky. That’s all she has.” Dr. Whitney nodded and examined Jennie as she had me. She wrote two prescriptions—antibiotics and birth control. I paid the bills, and we were gone. I stopped at the nearest CVS to fill the prescriptions and took Jennie out for dinner.

She looked at me sadly. “I’m so sorry, Doug.”

“Don’t be. We both knew this was a possibility. It changes nothing. We’ll continue using condoms until we go back in two weeks for your next test. You don’t even have to see Dr. Whitney. They’ll call by Friday, and then we’ll go out and celebrate.” I leaned over to kiss her, then continued down to Main Street in North Myrtle Beach, where I turned left and drove about a half mile to Flynn’s Irish Tavern.
I ordered two Smithwicks, carefully pronouncing them as they do in Ireland—Smittick’s—two onion soups and two orders of corned beef and cabbage. The food was as delightful as always, and the Smithwick’s, a wonderfully smooth Irish red ale, hit the spot after a long and challenging day. We were stuffed by the time we left an hour later.

Jennie took her DMV written test four weeks later once her identification documents had been received in the mail. She needed a score of eighty percent and earned a ninety-six, getting twenty-four of twenty-five correct. I was happy for her—extremely happy. I can help her get a passport now that she has her permit. Once she had that, she’d be set for life with her new identity. Even better, she’d tested clean on her second STD test and was two weeks into taking birth control. In another two weeks, I could push my bare cock into her. It was something we were looking forward to.

The day after our appointment with Dr. Whitney, I drove to Santee to meet with John, the dog trainer. We took our clubs, taking time that afternoon to hit a few buckets of balls at the Lake Marion Golf Course. We stayed nearby at the Best Western Santee Inn, dining the first night just down the road at Captain’s Quarters and the second at Clark’s, just off I-95. We made the most beautiful love both nights, our need for each other lasting well into the early morning hours. We were bleary-eyed in the morning but got up early enough to shower and eat a decent breakfast before driving to the kennel.

We met with the trainer, a good old boy with a deep southern accent I could barely follow. He introduced us to Lady, a spayed female German Shepherd about twenty months old. She bonded with Jennie almost immediately. Lady was a beautiful dog with light tan fur over most of her body, barely concealing her powerful muscular body. We spent two days there working and training with Lady. She was usually a sweet, gentle dog, but she was watched out when she was commanded to attack. I felt genuinely sorry for John’s assistant when Lady almost pulled his arm from his shoulder. But, showing how well she was trained, she released and returned to our sides as soon as commanded.

Lady climbed eagerly into the Honda’s rear seat, resting on the front seat next to Jennie’s. I drove north on I-95 until we reached SC-378 eastbound, although northeast would be a better description. It went in the exact direction of our house--ending in Conway, only thirty minutes from home. The trip was about two hours and forty minutes long, so we were home well before noon.

Jennie walked the property with Lady while I set up the water and food bowls we’d previously bought at Pet Smart. Lady’s bed, a four-foot-diameter corduroy cushion filled with cedar shavings, was at the foot of our bed. Our fence was due to be installed in another week. I felt safe for the first time since moving here.

Jennie and I became closer and closer as the days passed. We played golf together as she began to improve, breaking 100 less than a month after her first game, exactly as I had predicted. We went to local theater productions; professional variety shows like the Carolina Opry and productions at other theaters in the Myrtle Beach environs. We joined more than a hundred others at the House of Blues Murder Mystery Dinner Theater, winning a prize for picking the murderer successfully. That we were the only ones to do it made the evening even sweeter. I’ll never forget that night. It was the first that Jennie and I had unprotected sex, although it was more about making love than just sex.

As always, we returned to the house, opened the gate with the remote, and watched it close automatically once we had passed. I put Lady out while Jennie made the bed ready. We showered together, extremely familiar now with each other’s bodies. We hugged and kissed as the steam built, surrounding us in a thin fog. It was more than ten minutes before we turned the water off and stepped out to dry each other. The kissing and touching continued to the bed. The fact is we barely made it there before Jennie jumped my bones.

Jennie practically threw me onto the bed and then slithered up my body until her lips and tongue found my cock. “Don’t get too excited, Doug. This is going into my pussy where it’s going to flood my womb with millions of tiny little swimmers. I’ve been looking forward to this for too long.”

“You’ve been looking forward to it? Take a guess how I feel!” I thought at the time that my heart must have been beating two hundred times a minute. The sensation of feeling my bare flesh against hers drove me wild with lust. I pounded up into her as she clutched me tightly with her vaginal muscles. There was no way I could resist this for very long, and I didn’t. Jennie didn’t care. She begged for my cum, and when I exploded into her, she was ecstatic.

“Thank you, Doug. You have no idea how much I wanted that.”

“But…I didn’t take care of you.”

“Don’t worry. I know you will, either later or tomorrow morning. I’m not at all disappointed.” I guess not; she had a huge shit-eating grin on her face. She moved me under the blankets, pulled them up to my chin, and joined me, her naked body leaking onto my thigh. I lay there for several minutes, asking myself if it could improve.

It did the following morning when Jennie once again made love with me. It was missionary this time, except her legs were over my shoulders and bent in two. I couldn’t believe that she could even move, but she could and did, creating a rocking motion that rubbed my cock into the anterior wall of her vaginal canal. That’s nerd-speak for rubbing her G-spot. Jennie came twice, shaking wildly and screaming in her ecstasy before I deposited another big load deep within her. I pulled my body from hers, not wanting to hurt her, but she stayed in that position for a good fifteen minutes, at least, while we came down from our high. We kissed and touched each other non-stop as I savored the smoothness of her skin and the lushness of her body.

Eating three meals a day had a fantastic effect on Jennie. She had added twenty pounds over the past three months, and all of it went into the right places. She retained her flat abdomen, but her breasts had grown into a solid C-cup, and her hips and ass had become rounder and curvier—and a whole lot sexier, although I found her sexy when she was as thin as a rail. When she came out of the beauty parlor that first time, she had been completely transformed from a skinny vagrant and beggar to an incredibly hot and beautiful young woman. Heads turned when we walked into the restaurant that evening and every evening after.


To be continued