House Rules: The Jack Gordon Story (7 page)

She
got into her car without another word. He knocked on her window, fear at her
leaving for good making him breathless. He hated how he felt right then. Wanted
that terrified sensation gone, never to feel it again. That dependence on
someone else—it was…not good. He had to banish it. She shook her head and
wouldn’t roll down her window. So he stepped back as she gunned the engine and
peeled out into the street.

His
head pounding with fury, he jumped into the truck and headed straight for
Brandis’s place. “Let’s go,” he called out to his friend who sat on the edge of
the pool behind his house. “It is party time now, my brother. Jack is ready to
roll.”

“What
about…the secretary?” His friend waggled his eyebrows at Jack.

“Screw
her,” Jack said, sinking into his dismay nice and deep.

Brandis
shrugged and didn’t say anything else about it, thankfully. He got dressed, and
they headed to a party, which blended into another and another for the entire
summer until all Jack knew was how many girls he could fuck and not give two
shits about, every single night.

Chapter
Seven

After
his senior year ended Jack spent a surreal few months filled with beer, pot,
and pussy. When he wasn’t working his ass off for his father, learning
everything he could about all aspects of building a house, he was studying for
his contractor’s and electrician’s licenses.

And
when he wasn’t doing those things, he was out deflowering virgins. He and
Brandis had developed an unspoken and very successful tag-team system,
approaching each party with two goals—getting drunk and getting laid,
preferably by more than one girl. Jack prided himself on identifying the
cherries, zeroing in on them, and relieving them of their burden, typically
with enough finesse they hardly noticed it was happening.

Brandis
claimed not to enjoy that, saying it was too much work for too little reward.
But Jack felt as though he was on a mission. He wanted every one of the girls
he had to have a positive first sexual experience and took the whole thing on
as a personal challenge. By the time they graduated and were into that unique
position of freedom—no more high school, yet not yet in college—Jack was firmly
entrenched as the life of pretty much every party.

“You
are a man whore, you know it?” Brandis declared from his perch atop a float in
the middle of his pool. Jack shrugged and drifted off in the sun, on one of his
very rare days off, dreaming as always of the lovely and giving Mindy.

When
he woke, the place was crawling with girl-flesh barely covered in bikinis. Beer
was flowing, and the party was on yet again. Sitting and sipping and taking it
all in his brain slipped out of “missing Mindy like a bitch” mode and into
locating his target for the night. He tried not to grin too widely when he
spotted her, a blonde, unfamiliar to him, sitting with another girl nearly as
hot, with her long, black hair tugged back in a ponytail. Then, he spotted a
familiar face at the edge of the party. He frowned and got up.

“Mo,
what the hell are you doing here?” His little sister sat in large swing with
some strange boy way too old to be sitting that close to her. Jack grabbed her
wrist and yanked her away. She yelped and smacked his arm.

“Get
off me, Jack. Jeez.” Her light complexion reddened as she scampered inside.
Jack watched her go, trying to square that his sister was way too
mature-looking for her own good, then shook his head. His father had hired a
lady to cook, clean, and serve as extended babysitter so that Maureen wouldn’t
be left alone for long stretches of time now that Jack worked nearly around the
clock. She was on her own a lot though, which bothered him.

Détente
existed once more between Jack and his father, although Jack could hardly look
at the man without remembering his words, what he said about Mindy, the woman
he’d paid to fuck his own son.

A
soft hand on his arm startled him. He turned, smiled, and accepted the cup the
blonde girl held out.

“Thanks,
gorgeous.” He leaned into her. “What a scene, huh?” He sipped, not looking at
her but sensing her gaze on him. He knew he looked great. Between the pure
physical labor he put in daily on the job sites, lugging drywall, holding up
trusses, hammering, and carrying every manner of tools around, he also ran
every morning without fail, and did three hundred sit-ups and push-ups no
matter how tired he was. The routine of it soothed him, helped him forget, for
a moment, his fucked-up family life and that he had but a few more weeks before
he could escape to college.

Worry
about leaving his sister behind tickled at his conscience but Mo seemed at ease
with her relationship with their father for now.  She was a tough cookie and
had a solid set of friends around.

The
discipline Jack imposed on himself felt great. The punishing exercise coupled
with the long hours of work and determined study so he could achieve beyond
what his asshole father expected of him centered him, gave him purpose. Well,
that and what he was about to do with the lovely female now under his arm,
giggling and running her hand up his thigh.

He
tugged her inside, down to the basement, needing a connection so badly his
teeth ached. She sighed as he eased her down on the couch, kissing her gently
but with purpose, increasing his pressure slowly as his cock sprang to
attention under his swim trunks.

“Mmm…this
feels promising,” she declared, reaching into his shorts.

He
smiled into her mouth. He’d found one with a little experience—a pleasant
change of pace. She brushed her thumb across his head, making him shiver. “Hope
you’re prepared, big boy,” the girl said with a touch of awe in her voice when
she looked down at what she had in her hand.

Jack
sighed and leaned over to snag a condom from the supply he kept in the drawer
of an unused table in the corner. “Like a Boy Scout, sweetheart,” he said,
handing it to her.

She
grinned and stood, slipping out of her barely there bikini and standing in
front of him in all her curvy glory. He licked his lips, sat up, and yanked her
hips close so he could bury his face between her legs. She gripped his hair
then pushed back, forcing him to flop over onto the couch so she could straddle
his face.

He
groaned and flicked at the tender button of flesh. He loved pussy, loved
looking at it, licking it, watching it come to life under his careful
attention. The girl was moist, her folds were soft, and she tasted like the
sweetest honey.

He
sucked her clit, slid a finger inside, and moaned as she gripped him hard. The
knee-jerk girls were the best, he had discovered. They came fast and typically
had no clue that they were among the rarest of women—the multi-orgasmic—and his
favorite.

He
looked up, watched her cup her own breasts and tug her nipples.
Perfect,
just perfect.
He reached in at an angle, seeking that bundle of nerves most
women possessed, right behind her pubic bone.

“Jesus,”
he yelped, nearly coming out of his skin when a soft set of lips encircled his
dick and a finger traced down his balls and lower. “Baby, I didn’t know this
was gonna be a party,” he whispered.

The
girl looked down at him and smiled, angling her hips so he kept going as the
other girl sucked his cock like a pro, until he couldn’t hold back another
minute. The girl on his face came again too, completing the moment. The other
girl still palming his balls moaned and jerked forward again, and again. Girl
number one climbed off him, and Jack put his arms under his head and watched
girl number two get fucked by his friend from behind. “Nice,” he said, admiring
the way her tits bounced.

“Her
idea,” Brandis ground out then closed his eyes and pounded harder. Jack reached
down to fondle girl number two’s clit, making her eyes fly open at the last
minute. Her lips were so full. He had to kiss them. So he did, and all was well
for everyone in the room.

* * * *

“You
are gonna kill me,” Brandis groaned as he slipped into the pool later, once the
party had calmed. Their two girls of the night had gone home after another
round of mutually beneficial playtime.

Jack
drank a beer and squinted into the moonlight. His body was sated once more, but
his heart still hurt. It was a feeling he was getting a lot lately, but
sublimated, unwilling to acknowledge his own need to connect beyond the
physical.

He
was fine, he loved fucking, and he was damn good at it. So be it. “Quit your
bitching, ya big baby. I didn’t hear you complaining earlier.” He heaved the
empty beer can at his friend. Brandis caught it without a glance and tossed it
to the side. Then he swam to the other end of the pool, leaving Jack with his
aching heart and sore cock.

He
woke with a start, not even realizing he’d fallen asleep and saw a different
girl sitting on the edge of the pool. It took him a solid minute to realize it
was Mo again. Her body had matured in ways that pissed him off, made him want
to throw a blanket over her.

But
Brandis and his sister Denise were laughing and joking with her. So he tugged a
slightly damp towel up over himself and went back to sleep.

* * * *

The
morning he left for college he woke, ran the usual ten miles, did push-ups and
sit-ups in his mostly empty room. At the last minute, Jack pulled open his desk
drawer and found it—the photo he had planned on leaving behind.

It
was of him, probably about age six, standing next to his mother. The woman was
wearing her usual mysterious half-smile, but Jack was staring at her with pure
adoration on his face. He touched the photo, trying to remember her.

But
she was gone. He had let her go completely. That fact hurt his heart more than
anything. He started to put the photo back in the drawer but at the last minute
tucked it in the one remaining open box that held sheets and towels, ready to
move on to the next stage of his life in East Lansing.

“Let’s
get a move on, boy. I paid the tuition—you need to get out of here.” Jack
looked up at his father, suddenly transported back to his six-year-old self,
wishing the daddy who’d carried him on his shoulders, taught him how to fish,
to hammer a nail, and fiddle around under the hood of a car, would come back.
That boy’s father had morphed into something nasty, evil in Jack’s eyes and his
heart hardened yet more. This asshole had driven Jack’s beautiful mother to
drink, then to seek attention from a stranger next door. And then to death.

“Yeah.
Fine. Thanks.” He refused to call the man anything.

“Jack!”
His sister raced down the hall and flung herself into his arms. He held onto
her for a second and wished for the millionth time that things were different
for them. “Behave up there,” she said, her face buried in his shoulder.

“I’m
pretty sure I need to say the same thing to you.” He put her down, sat on the
edge of his bed and took both of her hands. “Listen, Mo, don’t, um…” He ran a
hand around the back of his neck. “No dating and…stuff…you know, for a while,
anyway.”

Maureen
burst out laughing and hugged him again. Jack felt the distinct press of tears
behind his eyes but blinked them away. Heart pounding like a kick drum in his
chest, he kissed her forehead, then stood.

His
father still leaned in the doorway, something like a smirk on his face. At
least that’s how it appeared to Jack. “She’ll be fine. Won’t you, Mo-ster?”
Their father held out an arm.

Mo
hesitated then stepped close to him. “I’ve got your grandma and whatshername,
the sitter, to keep her in line.” Mo rolled her eyes and gave their dad a quick
squeeze around his thin waist. Then she ran out of the room.

Jack
knew she was not about to let them see her cry. Growing up around the two of
them with their extreme testosterone bullshit punctuated by bouts of actual
physical violence had hardened her. Jack hoped not too much.

He
grabbed the last box, turned to shoot his boyhood room one last look, then
walked out to his truck. Moving on had never sounded, or felt, so right.

Chapter Eight