Oliver Smith
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The Ride
Top of Page The system was dead. Damn! I really needed to make some progress on that program. Very little is more frustrating than having a list of programs to write and no computer available. At least I was at home and I had a computer sitting on my desk that I could work on. There were a few things that I could use the PC for so I opened one of the application windows ad got to work on my alternative, but with less priority, project. It was late and I was falling asleep at the keyboard so I reached over to the component system that spread across to my left and pressed on of the selections on the receiver. The word "TUNER" flashed on the liquid crystal display and the soft, methodical voice of some public radio announcer drifted from the speakers placed around the room. Time drifted on until my son ad wife scrambled into the study. They were in the midst of some argument over clothes or something else equally as trivial. As far as I could tell, they were hoping that I would mediate in some way, but it was a standing policy of mine to stay out of such conflict. The argument was proceeding without any help from me so I turned my attention back to the PC. The argument stopped abruptly when the phone rang and both of the combatants stared at the phone and then me. Normally, I don't answer the phone. It's rare that it is for me and there weren't many people I wanted to talk to anyway. But under the circumstances I seemed obligated to pick up the receiver. "Hi," the feminine voice started, "Mr. Franklin, this is Cindy." When she stated her name, I recognized her voice and smiled. Cindy was one of my daughter's friends, one that I felt particularly comfortable with. But I had to be careful because my son and wife were equally uncomfortable with her. "Oh, hi Cindy. What's up?" I was trying to avoid sounding to pleased with the call sense two Cindy's worst relationships were standing next to me. "I was wondering if you could take me up to Forest Lake tonight. My parents aren't home and I have been invited to a party up there. I have no way of getting there." I wasn't sure how to respond to this request because a large part of my personality wanted to jump right up and obey her request. My relationship with her over the years has been very open and she has made many requests. But I also realized that any effort to honor this request would not be appreciated by two members of my own household. Not to mention that a forty-two year old man shuttling a fifteen year old girl to a party fifteen miles away to a house full of people I did not know while her parents are not home is opening himself to one of many negative possible outcomes. "Uh, Cindy?" I was flustered, "I'm not really comfortable with this..." "Oh, it's OK Mr. Franklin, I'm sure that my parents would approve. I'll call them as soon as I get there and tell them what happened. A friend of mine was going to take me and they knew about that." I pulled the phone away from my face and covered the microphone as I looked to my silent wife and son. "It's Cindy," the frowns and leers from both deepened, "she wants me to take her to Forest Lake." I was trying to sound as though I thought that this was a very bad idea, hoping that I was convincing. The look of skepticism in stereo was clear. "That's totally ridiculous," blurted my wife. My son was speechless. There were few people in this world that he hated more than Cindy. It was clear that my wife was looking at the legal, social and ethical issues of the proposal where my son was not understanding how anyone could want to do anything with this girl. Taking the cue, I lifted my hand from the microphone and brought the phone back to my head, "Cindy?" "Yes." "Don't you think it's a little dangerous for me, a man, to be picking you up at your house and taking you to someone's house when your parent's are not home?" I was trying to be logical and hoping that she would be satisfied with that. "I won't tell them how I got there, you'll be ok" It became obvious that logic was not going to work. "I...really don't think that I can do this right now...OK?" I was trying to sound simpathetic but reluctant. "OK. I understand. Bye." She hung up and I placed the phone back into the receiver. "I can't believe it," my wife said, "she really wanted you to take her up to Forest Lake?" "Yes." "It's eleven o'clock at night for gosh sakes. Do you realize how dangerous that is for you to be doing this?" "Yeh. There are a few problems with this, that's for sure." "Jeez Louise," she gushed as she left the room, "when are you coming to bed?" She was now in the next room. "I've got a lot to do yet. Go on to bed. I'll see ya later." I turned back to the screen and half consciously listened to the news that droned on in the background from the speakers. I was trying to concentrate on the work that spead across the screen of the PC but I kept thinking about Cindy. One of the things that was disturbing about the way that Cindy and I related to each other was the sexual tension that seemed to permeate everything that we did together. We never really touched, but it was there. It was there when I took her home, when I picked her up from school and when we talked to each other around the house. She would tell erotic jokes and I would laugh. She told me, in graphic detail, her experiences with boys. For fifteen, she had experienced a lot. In a way, I was jealous. When I was fifteen, I spent most of my time bored stiff in church: Sunday morning, Sunday evening, Wednesday evening, revivals, church camps. Cindy was living the life I wished that I had lived. I wouldn't dare tell anyone else this, but I did tell Cindy. This simply encourage her and our conversations became more intense. Somehow, I was able to get some work done between the news and my thoughts of Cindy. The house was silent except for my radio. The movement upstairs stopped, the televisions were turned off. Even the cat was curled up on the doorway to the study. I was surprised to see the red numbers on the digital clock glaring "1:00 AM". The coffee I had consumed over the last couple of hours left me plenty away and thinking of Cindy again. I convinced myself that I should call her and make sure that she didn't do something drastic, like try to thumb a ride to Forest Lake or call someone else. I was a bit concerned about what I would say if her parents were home and answered the phone. If that were to happen, I would simply hang up and leave it at that. I placed my fingers on the tracking ball of my PC and brought my card file window, looking up Cindy's number. It popped up clearly on the screen, beckoning. Without much thought I dialed the number and waited pensively. My finger was on the receiver switch ready to press in case her parents answered. "Hello?" It was Cindy. "Cindy, this is Clark," I paused. "Oh, Hi!", she seemed pleased. "I wanted to make sure that you were alright." "Yeh, I'm fine. Are you going to come and get me now? The party is going on all night." "Well, I wasn't planning on do that," I wasn't doing a very good job of sounding reluctant and she knew it. "Come one, no will know. It'll only take an hour of your time. See you in ten minutes." She hung up and left me caught in my thoughts. Rather than thinking about the potential consequences, I found myself caught in the challenge of pulling this off cleanly. The first obstacle was to get out of the house and into the garage without either the cat or dog waking up and begging to get out. Then there was the problem of getting the car out of the garage. These first two steps seemed impossible and made the rest of the endeavor seem simple. I was starting to think that getting out of the house was impossible when the challenge became too enticing. I save all the files I was working in the PC and pushed away from the desk. I was acutely away that from now on, any noise that I made would cancel the plan. There was plenty of light on in the study so I figured that I maneuver fine to the study door. Getting from the study to the stair leading up to the dining was going to be challenge because there were number obstacles that needed to be avoided and there was no light. This meant that I would have to feel my way around without knocking anything over of making any noise. If I make it to the stairway, I will have to figure out how to make it up the stairs without making any noise. From there, the foyer and garage door are the final obstacles before I have to figure out how to get the car out of the garage. At this point, I felt that I had a plan of action so I rose from the chair and careful stepped over the stack of books that spread along the floor by the desk. I stared at the cat lying in the doorway. If he were to awaken he would want to go outside and that would mean that I would have to open the outside door which is hard to open and would make too much noise. I was barefoot and there was plenty of carpet on top of the concrete floor of the basement where my study was located. This made it easy to move silently. As I stepped over the cat, one ear twitched and I froze. With no further feline movement I stepped into the dark of the family room and felt for the bookcase that I knew would be just beyond the edge of light coming from the study. I was trying to feel for strong solid objects that I could grope for silently, without fear of something sliding or falling. This was such a familiar path for me in the dark that I was surprised at nervous I had become. The pace was tortuous, but silent. After a half dozen steps, I felt corner of the hall leading to the stairway and quickly moved to the bottom of the stairs. This would be one of the more difficult accomplishments. I was very familiar with the sounds of these same stairs because I depended on them telling me when someone was coming down. This was especially useful when I was masturbating to one of my favorite erotic films. I would watch with the sound turned down while a portion of my brain was tuned to react to the slightest creak or groan from the stairway. I had the timing down quite well. I knew how many seconds it would take someone to get down the stairs after I heard the first sound relative to the number of seconds required to place my finger on the remote control, find the tape stop button, get myself all tucked away and zipped up. When asked why I'm sitting in the dark, watching TV with the sound off, I simply state that I was waiting for the dog to come in from outside and that I didn't want to wake someone up. This ploy generally worked. This time however, the noise of the stairway would worked against me. To avoid and sound from the stairs, I place my feet at the edge of each stair and discreetly made my way unnoticed. Knowing that the dog often sleep on the couch in the living on the balcony overlooking the dining room, I needed to be sure that he did not notice my movement. He not only makes noise moving around the house. He would want outside for only little while and then he would want back in, barking if one is not quick to open the door. All of the things were less than desirable at the moment. I made my way through the foyer, careful to avoid the shoes that were typically thrown randomly across the floor. With no lights, this had to be done by feeling my way with my toes. I opted to not try to find my shoes even though the chilly November Minnesota air and frozen ground would play havoc with my feet. The risk of noise resulting from my search was too great. Reaching the garage door, I turned the knob and pried the door open trying to avoid the usual clinking sound that the door makes. Getting into the garage was almost anti-climactic and would have felt good if were not for the task of getting the car out of the garage coming next. I quickly turned the light on knowing that this was one of the few easy and safe actions that I could take. The automatic garage door opener was not going to let me get the car out of the garage quietly, especially with the master bedroom sitting adjacent to the garage. I worked my way around my wife’s car and reached up to the rope which, when pulled, releases the door from the power track. This would allow me to manually open the door with out the powerful motor that usually does the job. Slowly pulled on the rope and signed when the release latch gave way with only a slight "click". I was now hoping that I could muscle the door up with little or no noise. I was doubtful that I could do it but I reasoned that if the door was pulled up a fraction of an inch at a time, the noise would be minimized, if not eliminated. It was starting to occur to me that Cindy would not wait outside in the cold for all of this to unfold but I was starting to convince myself that if all I accomplished was getting the car out of the garage without notice, that would be enough. It would be worth the exhaustion that I knew would overcome me the next day at work. It took me forty minutes to get the door up enough to back the car out of the garage. The whole process was complicated by the fact that my feet were bare and getting very cold. I had to keep moving my feet to keep the blood flowing in my to my toes. I also became aware of some other flaws in my plan. I was still in my pajamas and I didn't have my drivers license with me. There was a set of keys in the ash tray. At least I would not have to go back on get that. I felt that I was passed to point of turning back. If I'm going to get in trouble, I might as well do it big time. I'll just add driving without a license and driving in my bare feet to the growing list of mis-deeds that I was facing if caught. The stakes were getting higher and I was getting more excited. Cindy was only a minor piece of this work or perverted art. I was still standing up and holding the garage door. I knew that if I let go the door come crashing down and that it would not do so silently. Walking my hands along the now horizontal door, I approached the bottom and then walked my hands to the edge of the garage door. Holding the door up with one hand, I grouped for the shovel that usually stand just inside the door. Its handle was long enough to hold to door over the car while I backed it out. I was lucky, the shovel was there and I lifted up, placing it beneath the edge of the door. I would have to let the fall a couple of inches before it would rest on the butt of the shoulder. Relaxing my hold on the door slightly, it softly settled into place at the point where the shovel was lodged. Turning to the car, I moved my have frozen feet to driver's door and pulled up, slowly, on the handle. the door popped with a muffled clank. I paused briefly for any reaction. There was none. As I slid into the driver's seat and placed my numb foot on the brake I was hoping I didn't get a case of frostbite for my efforts. Opening the ash tray and removing the keys, I felt for the ignition key and placed it into the ignition slot once I found it. I turned the key to unlock the steering column and took a deep breath. I was beginning to think that I would pull this off. Pulling the clutch into neutral, I pushed with my left foot, which was still dangling from the car door, onto the floor of the garage. The car was a very small, lightweight model so I didn't have much difficulty moving the car backward. I would only have to push a few feet before the back wheels reached the edge of the level garage floor and start to roll down the steep driveway. Soon gravity was pulling the car and I retracted my foot and drew the door close to my side without closing it. The car picked up quite a bit of backward speed while I steered it onto the road, avoiding a couple of parked cars. There was enough momentum to allow the car to roll, backwards, down the block passed three of the neighboring houses. I felt that at this distance from the house, I would be able to safely start the car. If my wife heard a car starting in the night, it should not seem too unusual. The car started up without any trouble and I turned the heater on with the fan on high. It was time to think of my feet. I hadn't turn the car's lights on yet as I sat there in the dark car. The clutch was still in neutral so I folded my legs under the steering wheel so that I could rub my feet and help the blood circulate. The square numbers on the on the car's radio displayed "2:30 AM" and the whole operation was starting to take on an aura of fantasy. The night was half gone and I was just getting out of the house. Staring out through the windshield I saw the neighborhood I had been living in for ten years. It was very different in the hazy glow of street lights and adrenaline. There was no movement, the inch of snow in the lawns spread like mist beneath the street lights. Only the trails of footsteps in the snow betrayed the people in the neighborhood. I really didn't know anyone in all those houses and they didn't know me. I like that. Suddenly the passenger door opened wide and a human form filled the seat and frosted breath pasted itself on the windshield. A heavy coat covered the body and a stocking cap covered the head. Wiry, dark hair flowed from beneath the cap and twisted as the knit-framed faced turned to me. "Cindy!" I said almost before I realized what was happening, "what are you doing here?" "I got tired of waiting, so I came over to see if you were really coming." She smirked in light of the often used double meaning that the phrase evoked. Spontaneously, she grabbed my face and kissed my lips fully. I couldn't help but respond and slipped my cold hands under her coat. The warmth felt good. Her right hand worked its way into the crotch of my pajamas. That felt good too. The previous two hours of work seemed worth the effort at that point. Despite the fact that we had never touched before in any erotic manner, it felt appropriate. The moment was comfortable. I pulled myself away ad grabbed the steering wheel, "I guess we had better get you to that party. Huh?" Cindy smiled and settled back into her seat as I placed the car in gear and pulled away, pressing on the throttle with my bare foot and adjusting my pajamas trying to make room for the extra volume in my crotch. "You do know where this house is right?" "Not really, but I think we can find it." I wasn't really convinced, but I wasn't in any mood to be skeptical. I just enjoyed being with her. The fifteen miles went by quickly, with little talk. I don't think that either one of us knew how to deal with the situation we found ourselves in, or whether we were prepared to deal with the consequences. The Forest Lake freeway sign, ushered us to the right and I started slowing down and turning on to the exit ramp. The town itself was a mile from the freeway. There wasn't much activity going on at three in the morning. The road was empty of cars. The gas station at the freeway ramp had one car parked to the side, a layer of frost forming on it beneath the station lights. House lights crawled through the night, road stripes slithered in the car lights. Cindy's hand started caressing my thigh and I let my right hand move to her thigh. "I think we need to turn at the first traffic signal and then look for a house with lots of cars," she stated, breathing hard. I was feeling too good to argue. I would worry about my predicament later. I drove all over Forest Lake, looking for that house with lots of cars. I began to think that there weren't any parties going on that night. Or, perhaps, they were all over. Neither one of us seemed to care, we were caressing each other, cruising the streets and finding ourselves short of breath. "I think the parties over," she finally stated. I think you should take me home now. I nodded and steered the care back into toward the freeway ramp and headed back to our neighborhood. Cindy placed her head in my lapped and we fondled each other the rest of the way home. As I pulled in front of her house she rose up, kissed me once more and left the car. Her parent still weren't home and I left as soon as she disappeared into her house. She was safe. As I approached my house, I noticed that there were no light on so I figured that no one was disturbed by my little adventure. I was too tired to give much of a damn at this point so I drove on into the garage as though it were five in the after noon, not five in the morning. I shut the car off quickly, extinguished the headlights and listen to the motor cool down. It had been years since I had been that sexually aroused. Removing the shovel and lowering the garage door, I entered the house sat down on the stool at the breakfast bar. The dog appeared from behind the stool, tail wagging. "You want out?" I stated knowingly. Standing up, I approached the door and opened it, watching the fuzzy body disappear into the night. "Cliff," it was my wife, "what was that noise I just heard?" "It was the dog," I groused, "I just let him out. Go on back to bed. I'll be back up in a moment." |