Chapter Text
In the many versions of what important lessons one has to learn from life, (besides ‘to thy own self be true’, buy low-sell high or don’t kid a kidder and don’t bullshit a bullshiter) the biggest of them for me anyway is.......don’t let the pablum dry on a bowl. Yup, when that crap drys on something, it’s worse then cement and you have to chisel it off.
The month of May was a total balls to the wall sprint to the finish line where I thought ‘finally I can begin my life’...just to turn around in June to find myself back at the starting gate. Only this time it wasn’t the ‘midnight oil’ I was trying to burn, nope. It was my fat ass, trying to get in some kind of shape for Jump School this August. From early morning to the moment I fell into bed, when I wasn’t caring for or playing with Jeff or playing with or caring for Deans daughter Emma, was running, cycling, doing sit ups, push ups, chin ups any kind of ups to work off the puppy fat. Oh and find a light brown tuxedo with dark brown piping, a three button stitch with a yellow ruffled shirt and brown bow tie. I was a groomsman at the mating of Sharon and Bry-an.
Had to call all over town to find one that was the right cut and color AND was available for that weekend. I was just glad to be in the monkey suit instead of an omegas gown, army green was my color, not the mint green nightmare the bridesmaids and other omegas were going to have to wear.
Was sent a picture from a magazine of the tux, with the admonishment to have it ready for Saturday, the 24th of June. Not the most orthodox mating invitation I would ever receive but what the hell, what else did I have to do? John’s back to NATO HQ, Dean’s in Germany, most of the RIT cadre will be headed down to Fort Bragg soon (camp was back to 6 weeks, apparently the 5 week experiment was kind of bust) Naomi-mom said she was going on ‘vacation’ for the next two months in the Middle East. Didn’t say where but mentioned in passing she had to brush up on her Persian. Great, not like that neck of the woods didn’t have enough troubles. Now they have my mother to worry about.
Had heard from Her Mummy-ship that she and Dad......I kinda like that.....never had a ‘real’ father. Zachariah always demanded we call him whatever rank he was at the time. For a tall guy, he thought awfully short. But anywho, they were going to be in England visiting relatives. And thinking of England in all the fun ways natch, got an invite to come down the week of the 4th of July to visit the Reynolds. They’re going to be moving away to Germany in September. Lewiston got a posting as Second in Command of First Corp, BAOR in Bielefeld.
Lisa and Ben will be leaving for Germany in mid August and I’ll be heading for Officers Basic Course shortly after I get back from jump school. Got my orders for OBC but there’s a problem. Am only allowed 600 pounds of household goods and that damn couch is at least half of it. Plus, I’m not allowed to bring dependents. What am I gonna do with Jeff? I can’t leave him with Karen Singer for over six months. Have got to figure something out, maybe Mummy-ship and Dad can help.
So, in the mean time, am marking time, working out and having the chance to be a full time papa to my pup. Jeff is about four months old now. He’s still a big boy, at 26 and a half inches long and 25 pounds. He’s my little sumo wrestler. There are more freckles now dotting his nose, “the angels sure love you.” I coo’ed, “they’ve kissed you...here....here and here and here and here! Jeff would laugh, wave his arms and legs, then let out a God awful pablum fart.
Holy crap, if the Army could bottle that stink, it would outlawed by the Biological Weapons Convention.
Camp was starting on June 9th this year, though the cadre had report today, June 6th. Got a phone call from Sargeant Major Dalton to come in and pick up my orders for jump school, as they’d just arrived that morning. Being the FNG, he was left behind to man the fort with Phyllis and Becky till everyone got back in July. Okay, it’s a little early for orders to come in but maybe the army did something right for a change. So put Jeff in his new blue and white sun suit (present from Opa, aka: Dad. Zachariah would never think of something like that) dropped the little matching hat on his head and off we went to the ROTC office.
Stepped outside in the sunshine. Whew! It’s not terribly hot out yet but man. The humidity is almost as bad as North Carolina’s. Oh crap and I’m gonna be in Georgia in August. That’s gonna be worse. Oh, well. I’ve got two months to get used to humidity.
Drove down to the RIT campus and parked in the little parking lot in front of the Admin Building. Got Jeff out of his car seat and the two of us went up to the fifth floor. The idea that the army did something right thing, pure wishful thinking on my behalf. As per usual, there was a SNAFU.
“WHAT THE HELL DO YOU MEAN I’M GOING TO JUMP SCHOOL THE SECOND WEEK OF JULY!?” Was really glad I’d handed Jeff to Phyllis before she handed me the orders. Think I would’ve dropped him in shock.
“Actually,” Sargeant Major Dalton was a rather taciturn alpha with a long craggy face and eye brows like the Hanging Gardens of Babylon. “You need to report on the 7th, first full training day starts on the 10th.”
“SOMEBODY MADE A MISTAKE!”
“That does tend to happen,” he agreed. “But word of advice Sir.”
“Yeah?”
“Roll with it Sir, your future stomach ulcers will thank you.”
My mouth opened and closed. He was right of course but I was no where near ready. The moms were not going to be in town, Karen would be all by herself with Jeff for three weeks. “Maybe I could get the orders changed.”
“I wouldn’t try that Lieutenant,” Sargeant Major Dalton leaned back in his chair and propped his feet up on the desk. “Those slots fill up fast, you give this one up and you’ll prolly not see an opening until next year. Maybe. From what I hear, you had to give up your place last year, the Army ain’t gonna keep giving you chances. So I’d just put your mind to it, get yourself in as good a shape as you can and go.”
He was right of course, I’m an omega. How many times will ‘this ‘Alphas Army’ give people like me a chance? Even with Johns influence, no. I’ll earn it myself. Want no one to say the Winchester name got me anything I couldn’t earn by myself. Okay, let’s prove I can turn on a dime and give you nine cents change. “Thanks Sargeant Major,” gotta liberate Jeff from Phyllis then head home to quietly (or loudly) freak out and then do a load of sit ups.
“Met your mate once years back,” heard him say. When he find out? Suppose anyone would’ve told him. The cat was way out of the bag on that bit of news.
“Oh,” turned back to hear the story. “When was that?”
“Afghanistan, late 50’s.” Daltons brow rumpled in thought. “I was part of 10th Special Forces in those days. Your mate was the assistant military attache at the embassy. Interesting fella. Made quite the impression.”
“What did he do to make you remember him?” Suspect that is quite a story in itself.
The Sargeant Major winked, “if I told ya, I’d have to kill ya.” Or not.
Damn. It must’ve been good, what ever it was. “Come on, what was it? Just a hint?”
The ‘green beanie’ NCO took on a look of great contemplation, turned his face to heaven and finally said, “your mate supplied the ball for a buzkashi match between two rival villages.”
“Buzz...what-ie?”
“Buzkashi, it’s the national game of Afghanistan. It’s kinda like polo only played with a goat or calf carcass as the ball.”
Okay, sounds like a charming local custom. Not like I’d been to a few cock fights in Panama. Mostly as a ‘bag boy’ or to take home the loser for chicken soup. Now that got me thinking, how could getting a dead critter be so earth shattering? Unless it was who he took it from...and afterward, considering it’s been pretty tenderized, does everyone sit down for shish-ka-boobs?
Oh the fun and hilarious fellow that is John Winchester. And a man who is still very much a mystery to me. Since Sargeant Major was not forthcoming with any more details, I take my pup, fold my tent to wander off into the bright sunshine of a June Rochester day. Okay, I gotta get going on getting my ass in shape.
“By the way Lieutenant,” Sargeant Major hefted himself from his chair. “Meet me tomorrow morning at 07:00 am at the running track out yonder. You gotta a PT test to pass before heading down to Benning. In your packet should be a little booklet, ‘Guide for Airborne Students’, it’ll tell you what you have to do to qualify. Gird your loins Sir. If you don’t pass tomorrow, we will try it again in a week and if you don’t pass then, we will wait another week.” He looked at me through those shaggy brows, “but you will pass.”
Inwardly I was in a puddle of tears, outwardly put on the bravest face possible, “drive on Sargeant Major.”
Went home, lay Jeff down for a nap and got changed into a pair of gym shorts, sweat shirt with the arms cut off and my jump boots. Locked the door, stuck the key in my pocket and started running down Countess Drive. Ran to Winterberry Loop, went the length of that, then turned and trotted up Countess Drive and back home. Oh man, considering I’d been in PT almost every morning since April, this should’ve been easy. But it wasn’t. It’s one thing to run on a flat track, quite another on a road with rises and hills. This wasn’t even factoring in the humidity. Which is crazy, I was born in Panama. But too many years in Germany and New York State definitely thickened up my blood.
Tiredly climbed the stairs, need a drink of water. Maybe two drinks of water. Can’t even begin to dry out now. Don’t even bother with a glass, just lean in and suck it right out of the facet. Oh man, am I thirsty. Need a shower too. Am just a big sweaty mess. Go to the bedroom to check on Jeff, he’s awake and waving his arms at the colorful mobile (gift from the cadet battalion) hanging over his bed. It was a cute thing with zebras, giraffes and elephants all chasing each other around and around to the wind up music box tune: ‘I Talk to the Animals’.
“Hi there Big Guy,” leaned over his crib and kissed his cute puppy belly. “Let your stinky papa take a shower, then we can get you up for lunch and watch papa do push ups.” Jeff agreed or at least looked agreeable. Went into the bath and took a quick shower, sluicing off the sweat and dirt, then came out with a towel around my hips. Looked at myself in the bedroom mirror. Didn’t look much different, still had wide hips, a soft belly and tits that still hadn’t shrunk down enough. Which reminds me, have to express some milk for Emma. Poor little thing is still colicky.
Didn’t bother dressing, just went to the kitchen, stopping on the way to do a few chin ups, then pulled out a pan, the milk from the fridge and his puppy cereal from the cabinet. Set the milk in the pan to warm, then sat on the floor to knock out a few push ups and sit ups.
Turned off the heat and poured in the pablum to cook, then went to the bedroom to get Jeff out of his crib. “Puppy curls!” Lifted him up and down in rapid secession, of course the little shit loved it. “You’re gonna be daddy’s little airborne trooper. Woooooo, jump up, hook up, shuffle to the door!” Think I’ve got the best pup in the world.....most times. Or at least when he lets me sleep. Jeff still wakes in the middle of the night but less now that I put his cereal in the bottle for him to suck on. Man, that stuff knocks him right out.
Jeff’s neck has gotten stronger, he can lay on his tummy and hold his head up now. He also is able to sit up by himself, for a moment any way, before tipping over. Timmmmmber! It’s kind of funny to watch, he just sits there, then topples sideways with this surprised expression on his face. Then lays there for a moment looking pissed off (damn you gravity) and gives off this angry bellar. Which stops immediately when you set him up right. Spent a good half hour doing that one day, then burned off a little more time kissing the bottoms of his soft little feet (oh there is something about puppy toes) and the mandatory rounds of ‘patty cake’ and ‘shoe the horse and shoe the mare but let the little colt go bare’.
Got back to the kitchen with Jeff on my hip, got the pot off the burner and got the milk out of the fridge to pour in to cool the gunk down. There’ve been times I’ve just did the old ‘ready, aim, fire’ with the boob milk but now trying to dry out, going longer and longer between expressing myself.
Which did beg the question on the last well puppy visit with Doctor Mosley, would the ‘hexium milch’ come back after the nursing milk dried up?
“Nope,” she said, looking up over the rims of her glasses. “Now that you’ve had a pup, your body will stop manufacturing it. It did it’s job. Hexium milch was a beguiler, hence the name, ‘witches milk’. It was one of those things an omegas body does to attract an alpha. Same reason why your hips broaden and belly gets soft when you started to have sex regularly.
At least there was light at the end of tunnel, that wasn’t a train, where I could finally get out of wearing nursing shirts. Though, there is that lacy one John bought me from Pellars in London for Christmas that I wouldn’t mind wearing for him a few more times. Or Jenny. Ooooo, have to stop thinking like that....or until after I get Jeff fed and laid down for a nap.
Sat down with him on my lap and spooned the goo into his mouth. Took a few bites myself, tastes like Cream of Wheat, kinda bland, so put a pinch of sugar in. This is a boy who likes saffron chicken soup and swigged onion soup like a champ last month. Jeff ended up wearing half his lunch across his face and t-shirt. Which is why I still haven’t invested much in his clothes. T-shirts, plastic pants and diapers is mostly what he’s still in. Other then a few shirts, overalls and the sun suit, that’s what clothes he has. Course will have to buy more at the Thrift Store (there’s always a bumper crop of puppy clothes really cheap there) when we get down to officers basic.
Finish up with lunch, leaving the pan, spoon and bowl to soak in the sink. Walk back into the bedroom and lay the little guy down for his nap. Wind up the music box on the mobile and let the giraffes, zebras and elephants chase each other around and around. ‘If I could talk to the animals, just imagine it, chatten with a chimp in chimpanzee....’
Then lay myself down, took a leaf from Dr Spocks book and most of the cadres mates. When the pup sleeps, so can you and I took that bit of advice to heart. Also took out ‘Spurs’ the vibrator from under the bed. Was NOT going to be caught ‘flat footed’ again. Also a spit towel from the pile of clean laundry on the bed that I hadn’t put away yet and the lotion for Jeff’s butt on the bedside table. Okay, already for a little fun.
Let’s see, a nice easy setting. Something for a long slow afternoon or until Jeff wakes up. There we go, mmmmmmm, that’s good. Who do I think of? John? But of course. Dean? Toss him in the mix. Jenny and Lewiston? Oh God yes! Benny....NO! I can’t think of him......or maybe just a little bit. “Mon Biche,” heard his seductive voice echoing through my memory. “Little Dove.” But then again, isn’t forbidden fruit the sweetest?
Replay that night down at Fort Bragg where he and Daddy Ashton free me from the chivato and then heal my wounds. “Jeff’s quiet today, but then again a PT test and getting sucker punched slowed him down a bit.” Turned over on my stomach. “One of the bastards gave me a good kidney poke.”
Picture the scene, Daddy had just left to bury the jar leaving Benny and I alone in his room.
“Oh mon biche,” Bennys hand was like a magick wand as the pain crept away and the warmth spread across my lower back. “Wish I could’ve stopped it.” His fingers traveled across the furrow of my bottom til they touched the lips of my vulva. Unconsciously canted my hips to the presenting position.
“Happened too fast,” was pleasantly warm and fuzzy headed. “There were too many and you would’ve been hurt too.” Sighed contentedly as Bennys hand cupped my pinks, this is the best I’ve felt in two days. “Wouldn’t want you hurt. You’re too dear to me.”
“Pour petite piroque,” my traiteur clucked his tongue. “Poor little broken boat. Been tossed by the waves, crashed against the rock and left to lay upon the sand to be burned red by the sun.” Could feel a drop of slick glad down my channel and drop into his palm like a bead of dew. He brought it up to his nose, breathing in the bouquet before his tongue snaked out to taste. “Like pure nectar,” he sighed.
Turned over on my back, raising my hips. “There’s more if you want”..........scratch that. Sounds like a line from a bad porn movie. The kind they play over at the Lyric ‘Art’ Theater over on North Clinton Ave. Kinda went there one night with Dean. How could such dumb movies make you wanna have sex.......but sadly.....they do. But in any event, made up for the bad dialog by turning ‘Spurs’ up to the next setting and saying something like.....“please Benny please. I need you.” Also turned back over on my stomach and into the presenting position. There we go, that’s better.
“Little Dove,” Bennys hands rest gently on my backside. “Are you sure? Your insides are still pretty raw.”
“Please.” I beg. “You’re a healer, please help me.” Okay not as corny. Alright now, let’s cut to the chase. Don’t know when Jeff will wake up or the phone will ring or someone will be at the door or all the idiotic things that seem to happen when I wanna have sex. Which is why this personal make out session has to so brief. Okay Benny, do your thing. Turned the vibrator up to max and let fly. Greased my palm with the baby lotion and let ‘Miss Michigan’ take over.
True to form, the moans, groans and ‘oh Bennys’ woke someone up. Thank the Alpha God he’s not old enough yet to have stood up to catch the sight of his papa with his ass in the air, vibrator rattling like an old truck on a dirt road, jerking off into a spit towel. That’s the problem with solo sex, it ain’t pretty.
The time slips by way too fast. I run several times a day, cycle for miles up and down the hills of Henrietta, sit ups and push ups, chin ups, doing anything and everything I could think of. As I failed the PT test the first time I took it. Swam laps in the pond in front of the rental office until one day when the secretary came out and asked me to kindly stop. Not that my Johnny Weissmuller impersonations were not unwelcome or entertaining, it was simply they didn’t want the liability should I fuck up and drown. Though she did admit how the office would miss my grand exits from the water. “Like watching our own personal Swedish movie.”
Can’t argue with that logic I suppose and as for the whole Swedish movie thing.....thank you. I think.
The weekend of the 24th rolls around and on Friday morning the 23rd of June at 07:00 AM, I took the PT test again for the third time and finally passed. At 08:30 AM, I’m packing the brown tux carefully away in the black gator suitcase. All my honeymoon pretties were piled neatly on the bed. Look at the garter belt, tap pants and the other bits of pieces of silk and satin, ribbon and lace. They seemed to belong to another omega and not me. Or not the me of right now. Instead, in went a couple pairs of khakis, jeans, pull over or button up shirts, socks and my dress shoes.
Also tossed in the ‘congrats on getting mated’ card with twenty bucks in it. Money was the one gift that everyone wanted and was never turned down.
Also packed the good collar, didn’t have many occasions to wear it and this seemed like a good opportunity to do so. The duffel was full of mostly my babes clothes, diapers and other things that make traveling with a pup akin to planning an invasion. It took two trips up and down the stairs but am finally ready to go. Had untied Jeff’s car seat/carrier from the passengers front side where I’d had it roped to the seat. Now roped it to the back of the passengers seat with the end of the carrier resting on the back bench. Drove down to Fairwood to pick up Ben who’s agreed (or at least his mother did) to be my plus one for this hog wrestle.
Also dropping off a few bottles of milk I expressed over the course of the last day or two. Hopefully that will hold Emma till we get back on Sunday. Get over there, park in front of Apartment #25 and knock on the front door. “Milchmann,” I call out, tapping on the timbers. Then, tried a different tact: “democracy!”
The door jerked open and Ben stepped out clapping his hand over my mouth. “Plleeaseeeeeee!” He begged. “Emma just fell a sleep. Took forever for Mom to get her quieted down, so plllleasesees! Shut the fuck up!”
“Here’s some milk,” I whispered. “This should help.” My First took the bag to put in the fridge and after a few minutes came back outside. “I told Mom I was leaving now. She told me to tell you that if something happens to me, she holds you personally responsible. There will be no place you can hide as she will find you, skin you alive and hang your pelt up on the wall as a trophy.”
Oh those wacky Germans. “What? She isn’t going to turn me into a lamp shade?’
Ben gave me a sour look and went to the car. “Not funny asshole.” Okay, that went over like a lead balloon. The pout lasted for a mile or two until I apologized. “So, where is this place we’re going to?” He asked with still some grump in his voice.
.
“Lake George,” I tried a more conciliatory tone. “It’s about 5 hours from here in the Adirondack Mountains. Think of it kinda like Friedrichshafen on Lake Constance. Only tacky as hell. You know, typical American.” He nodded sagely, (looks like I’m forgiven). Like most Army brats, he knew the tourist towns and Servicemens resorts in Germany. And other then his trips with friend Josh to Sylvan Beach and the 4th of July weekend to the North Carolina shore last summer (that still hurt. It was suppose to have been my honeymoon with Dean), he’d really seen nothing of a ‘regular’ American vacation.
Like me, Ben hadn’t been born in the States. He came into the world at the Frankfurt Army Hospital in 1962, then lived in France till the American military was kicked out in 1966 after the Frogs left NATO.
“We lived out of suitcases and used Dad’s foot locker as a table for months cuz they lost our house hold goods.” Had heard similar stories from people who were given a few scant days to get packed up and out of country. Even heard of someones roast turkey getting boxed up while still in the oven. “We stayed with Moms parents in Stuttgart when Dad was in Vietnam and Korea, then came here about four years ago. Lived in at Fort Dix for a year, what a hole that is, then came up to Rochester.”
To pass the time, Ben and I compared notes on the places in Germany we’d been. Laughed over the crazy crap we’d gotten away with, the school trips to London, Amsterdam and West Berlin (getting in trouble at the East German border for peeking out the windows of the train). You know, the fun stuff. But there was also the not so fun part of where we lived. The warnings to vary your routes so the Red Brigade won’t get you, or the MP’s on school bus’s and the ‘go bags’ every one kept by the front door. The scary reminder that we lived on the front lines of a cold war that had every chance of turning hot in a heart beat.
Rolling up to the Henrietta toll booth to get on the Thruway, the toll taker handed over the ticket and wished us a good trip. According to the time punch on the ticket, was about ten minutes after nine in the morning.
Had to stop about an hour and a half later at the Dewitt Travel Plaza in Syracuse to hit the can, pick up some overpriced junk food then get back on the road. True to form, the minute we hit the Montezuma Swamp, it started to rain. Even though the sun had been out and shining all the way from Henrietta, the clouds were all bunched up over Syracuse and the rain was coming down like it was day 3 of the 40 and we better know how to tread water. Course the minute we’re on the other side of Syracuse, everything lets up like someone turned off the sprinkler and the sun is back out. Welcome to New York State, don’t like the weather, wait five minutes, it’ll change for you.
Once we get to Albany, I paid the $3.50 to get off the Thruway (highway robbery if you ask me) and on to the Northway (just as good a road and costs nothing to be on it). There was a Howard Johnson’s at the Latham exit, so had to stop for a lunch, pee and diaper break. Okay, maybe we shouldn’t have but couldn’t resist the lure of clam strips. Both Ben and I ordered the large clam plates, fries and indian pudding. Jeff had his bottle and a few spoonfuls of the pudding. I picked up the check for the both of us and were soon back on our way.
Had sat down with the check book earlier in the week to see just how much money was left, there was a goodly sum in the account, if I was careful. So should be able make it to August and a regular monthly paycheck without too many troubles. As long as there weren’t any disasters, knock on wood. Was debating on whether to drive to Fort Benning or fly. Was thinking of maybe driving to DC to spend time with the Reynolds and then flying out of there. Either way, have to make up my mind fast, as I have to get out to the travel office at the Seneca Army Depot to get my plane ticket.
If I do drive to DC will leave the Bug at the embassy where it’d be a whole lot safer then just sitting in parking lot in Riverton or Fort Benning. Will also leave my good collar and valuables with Karen.
Along with the picture of the tux, Sharon had sent a map showing how to get to the camp where the mating party would be staying. The main drag was exactly the way I’d heard Bry-Ann describe it, “like the Jersey Shore in the mountains.” Which Ben seconded, as we drove by tacky souvenir shops, cheap looking motels, bars and ‘The House of Frankenstein Wax Museum?’ Oh brother. The road takes us out of town, through the twists and turns of the mountains following the lake. My First is playing navigator, calling out the road names, land marks and finally.... “there, that mail box that says ‘41’ and ‘Franklin. Turn right there.”
We turned onto the side road, driving through a spread of pines and maples, till it leads us up to a rather impressive three story Tudor style, for lack of a better word, mansion, I turned to Ben. “Are you sure this is the right place?” Was expecting a little bungalow with a rickety wooden dock. Maybe a float made of barrels hanging just off shore. No, this was NOT what we found by a long shot.
“Positive,” Ben was just as amazed. “According to the mail box out at the turn off, this is 41 Cramer Point Road.” He whistled appreciatively. “Holy shit. That’s some ‘cottage’. Sharon’s family must have had mucho denaro to afford this joint.” According to the little omega, it was a little something passed down from her paternal grandparents to mom and dad on their mating day. No wonder she could go to St. John Fisher without a scholarship, then even be able to consider law school afterward. Her folks must be loaded.
Pulled the Bug up next to the other cars along side the house in front of the three car garage and we got out. Unbuckled Jeff from his car seat, “come on kiddo. Ooooo, you need a new diaper.” Had changed him down in Latham but looks like he’d filled his diaper in the mean time. Wonder if I can take him down to the lake to clean off. Ben had gone over to knock on the front door to let someone know we were there and what now?
Turned to find him coming back down the walk followed by a pleasant looking middle aged beta woman in a sun dress. “Hello, I’m Celia Franklin, Sharons mother.”
Shifted Jeff so that the fragrant smell of ‘Eu de Dirty Diaper’ was not so prevalent. “Uh, hi. I’m Castiel Novac, friend of Bry-Anns from RIT. This is my First, Ben Winchester and this little imp, who I really need to get some clean three cornered pants on, is my son Jeffery.”
Mrs Franklin smiled, “welcome to our little shack in the woods. Come on, let’s get you settled in and a chance to freshen up.” Got the gator bag and the duffel out of the back seat as Ben grabbed his stuff. We were lead into a grand foyer and then into one of the most impressive living rooms I’d ever seen since coming to the ‘Land of the Big PX’. And I’d spent the summer at Quarters One in Fort Riley. Maybe tt wasn’t like the castles in Germany or manor houses in England, but damn.....damn!
“You have a beautiful home Mrs Franklin,” I said marveling at the huge stone fire place, white washed stucco walls and the leather couches and chairs that just seemed to invite you to sit down to cuddle up with a book, glass of wine or a long lazy nap (or a long lazy fuck). “It looks like a Tudor in the revival style of the 1920’s.”
“Why thank you and call me Celia,” she said leading us up to an impressive carved oak stair case. (Again saved by finishing school, a short course in vintage architecture.) “You have a good eye, yes the house was built by my mates father as a summer get away back in 1924,” The first flight of stairs, lead up a second flight, Celia kept talking while Ben and I were huffing and puffing to keep up. It’s bad when a 40 some odd year old beta could leave a healthy 16 year old alpha boy and a 22 year old omega carrying a 2 ton (one of those tons was pure puppy poop.) babe and luggage (would it have killed ya to take one of the bags ya bitch?) up a flight of stairs. But finally we reach the third floor. “This will be your room, there’re twin beds that can be pushed together and Sharons old crib for your pup. The bath is across the hall and there’s central air or you can just open the window and use the ceiling fan.”
Set the bags down and switched Jeff to a little more comfortable position on my hip. “Thank you. We can get cleaned up and be down in a little while.”
“Good,” she turned and walked toward the door. “The mating rehearsal is at 07:00 o’clock tonight and afterward Bry-Ann’s family is hosting an old fashioned pig roast. The men were up digging the pit early this morning, getting the charcoal going and laying in the pig. You’ll met my mate Irv and Stew Whitman a little later, they’re are out playing golf over at the Top of the World. Tootles.” And with that off her chest, Celia left in a rustle of cotton.
Ben and I stood there for a moment, before he stage whispered “wow.”
“And how,” I added. Then turned my attention to the little stink-o on my hip. “Come here dude, let’s get you cleaned up.” The bath had a large claw foot tub and shower just perfect for cleaning up a messy pup. And me. Had been feeling a little grody as the Bug only had 2-60 air conditioning. Two windows open at 60 miles an hour and really needed a bath. Got the worst of the shit off my wiggly pup and flushed down the toilet. Filled the tub with about an inch of warm water, then proceeded to wash him down. Boy those are some nice smelling guest soaps, gotta remember to snitch one before the weekend is over.
Had folded a small towel to make a pillow for Jeff’s head. He happily splashed, cooed and peed like a fountain. Some day I’m gonna remember to put a wash cloth over that little whiz cicle.
Drained the water, picked my little one up, then got the shower going. Stood there enjoying the feel of the warm water running down my body and for a few minutes just let my mind wonder, not really thinking of anything. Didn’t wanna think of any of the stuff I had to do in the next days to get ready for the next few weeks. Like leaving Jeff with Karen. Not that she wouldn’t adequately care for him, just the didn’t like the thought of leaving him for all that time. Hmmmmm...need to give her some money for his diapers, food and such. She prolly won’t wanna take it but will make sure she does. A couple of hours or days is one thing...almost four weeks is another.
Jeffs startled cry brought me back up, the water was turning cooler and he didn’t like it. “Sorry Sweetheart, sorry Papas sweet boy. Papa will fix.” Turned off the stream and high stepped out of the tub. Wrapped my babe up in one of the big fluffy towels off the rack and set him on the large vanity. Ohhhhh...more of those nice soaps. The bath also sported a crapper and a bidet, fancy schancy. Note to self, tell Ben NOT to piss in the bidet.
Put a towel around my waist, picked up Jeff and walked back across the hall to our room. Ben was unpacking...well...shoving his clothes into the dresser. “Hang your jacket up in closet, can’t have you looking like you slept in in. Oh, the bath is free, though I’d give it a few minutes for the water to warm back up. And the toilet is on the right, bidet is on the left...don’t mix them up.”
He gave me that patented look only a teenager can give. “I ain’t stupid, know what a bidet is. Mom is always carrying on about Americans, their lack of civilized bathrooms and their weird obsession about toilet paper.” Ben snickered, “considering that German toilet paper is like wiping your butt with a splintery stick and the crap the French make is like wax paper, in a way I can see her point about having an ass hose.”
“We won’t even talk about Turkish toilet paper,” had opened up the gator bag and pulled the monkey suit out, putting it the closet next to Ben’s jacket to let the wrinkles hang out. If it needs more, can touch it up with an iron in the morning. The ceremony wasn’t until 10:30 tomorrow morning, so there was plenty of time to get it looking presentable.
Get Jeff’s little butt oiled, powdered and diapered. Kissed that plump little belly and blew raspberries. His green eyes shown like sun light on dew kissed leaves. My babe has a thatch of dark hair that is getting a little thicker on his noggin. Pulled out the same blue and white sun suit and a hat from the other day, dressing the little wiggling body. Then set him in the crib to give me a chance to get dressed. What do I put on? Had brought a pair of cut offs and sweats but think I’ll error on the side of caution, took out sandals, the best pair of jeans that almost fit me and a short sleeved rugby shirt. Left the shirt untucked to cover the ‘dun-lap’, as I said, they ‘almost’ fit.
Ben had shucked off his clothes, picked up the towel I’d dropped on the floor, wrapping his around his waist. Couldn’t help but run an appreciative eye over his neatly muscled landscape. Football may have put on some beef but a growth spurt kept it from turning to fat in the off season. The boy is a Winchester through and through, tall, good looking, dark haired with a heart breaker smile. Oh the Whitman and Franklin sisters and omegas aren’t gonna know what hit em. He noticed me noticing and flexed his biceps. “See something you like?”
“Assbutt,” I growled. Oh I was so busted. Hey, I’m mated, not dead. Trying to play it cool, picked up Jeff from the crib, “get in the shower, you stink.”
“Ha! You just wanna piece of this.”
“You wish,” and with that, left him to go get cleaned up. Made the long decent down the stair case, thinking I should either be tap dancing like in ‘Yankee Doodle Dandy’ or yelling ‘Rhett, Rhett, where shall I go, what shall I do?” Well frankly my dear, I don’t give a hydroelectric damn. Got to the bottom of the stairs only after making a few sword jabs like Errol Flynn, then just stopped to listen. Need to know where the people were in this monolith, hmmm seems to be the sounds of humanity coming from down the hall to my right. So, hitched Jeff on my hip and walked down a dark wood paneled hallway, passed a rather large dining room, now I really need to have a sword fight and swing from the chandelier hanging over the long wooden table. Pushed open the swinging door and...you know that scene from the ‘Wizard of Oz’ when Dorothy opens the door to Munchkin Land, there is such a burst of color that it takes your breath away? Yeah, that’s what it was like walking into that kitchen. I either wanted to put on shades or look for Glinda the Good Witch.
Where as the rest of the house was all dark wood, white, brown with occasional dots of deep forest green, the kitchen was an explosion of burnt reds, yellows, light woods and bronze colored appliances. Hoooolly Shit! There were about eight woman of various ages and secondary genders bustling about preparing enough food to feed a small army. Recognized only one, Mrs...no....Celia and the rest must be some kind of relatives or friends.
“Um....hi?” They all turned......“anything I can do to help?”
“Girls,” Celia announced, putting down the knife she was artisticly attacking a watermelon with. “This is Castiel, he’s Bry-Ann’s friend from school and part of the wedding party.” She wiped her hands on a dish towel and walked over. “And this handsome little fellow, is his son Jeffery.” Course that’s when the little brat gives a happy “aaaaaaaaahhhhhhh” and throws out his arms. The women of course melt for him and he’s whisked away and passed from hand to hand. At this rate, the pup’s feet are never gonna touch the ground.
“My gracious, what are you feeding this boy?” One of the ladies was gasping under Jeff’s weight. “He’s got some good heft to him.”
“His doctor says he’s in the 95th percentile.” I was rather proud of that fact. That MY pup was a head of the other pups. Dumb, I know but there you have it. “He’s only four months old and born a month early.” The ladies made the appropriate cooing and aaaawwwwww noises, Jeff was soaking in the love and beaming it back like a Telstar satellite.
Introductions were made all around, four of them were aunts and cousins of Sharon and the other three were Bry-Ann’s mom, aunt and older mated sister. The rest of the sisters, brothers and cousins were down by the lake sunning themselves or out in one of the speed boats. “Where’s Sharon and Bry-Ann?”
“Oh, Sharon is at the Crystal Spa in Saratoga,” one of the cousins chirped up. “She’s there for a last hurrah day. You know, kind of like a bachelor party only she’s an omega and a girl. Then some shopping for the honeymoon. They’re going up to Montreal and staying at the Ritz.” She sighed, “sounds so wonderful.” Checked her neck and finger, no bite or ring. Looks like the old maid beta cousin.
“Bry-Ann is with her father and Irv playing golf,” Celia was back to mutilating the watermelon. Huh, wish I’d known that before. could’ve gone and whacked a balls with Bry during the school year. “Why don’t you go down to the boat house and introduce yourself to the rest of the family, don’t worry about Jeff, we can watch him for a bit. Noticed a crib in the corner with two pups about Jeffs age sound asleep in it.
“If it’s no trouble,” I began but was shooed out the back door with the admonishment to mingle. Now felt weird without a pup on my hip. Walked out into a stone patio and down a set of stairs that lead to a large boat house. Breathed in the smell of pine, lake water and roasting pig. Mmmm, that is gonna be one tasty porker in a few hours. Make my way down to the water, the door to the boat house was open to show two motor boats in the bays. A cabin cruiser and sleek speedster. Wow, Sharons folks do have a bit of coin.
On top of the boat house was a sun deck with wicker chairs, chaise loungers and umbrella tables. There was a transistor radio playing loudly from a small tiki bar set up in the corner and next to it a metal wash tub full of melting ice and beers. The chairs and loungers were decorated with mostly alphas and a few betas in their early to mid 20’s sunning themselves talking softly amongst themselves.
Walk over to the wash tub and fish through. Urg, American beer. Not a Coors in sight. Even the Bass ale is that nasty import shit. Oh well, better then nothing I suppose. Pull one out of the ice, pop off the top on the edge of the bar (a little something I learned from the ladies who babysat me when we lived next door to a whore house in Panama) and take a long pull. Not bad but not the best. Could feel a few eyes on me, well might as well pick someone to talk to and get it over with.
Hmmmm, who looks like less of a jack wagon....tough call in this crowd. But it was solved for me when this short alpha male type ambles over. “Hi, Nelson Eddy” (You gotta be kidding me) “Cousin of Sharon.”
Took his hand, oh let’s play the hand crusher game to show the little ‘mega their place. But finishing school did have a ploy for such occasions. A little pressure in the soft spot between the thumb and fore finger, works every time. “Hi, Castiel Novac, friend of Bry-Ann from college.”
Eddy grimaced and let up quick. “You’re in college?” Don’t sound so surprised jerk off.
“No, just graduated. Gotta Bachelors degree in Criminal Justice and a commission from the Army ROTC. In fact,” I said with modest (okay not really) pride. “I was the first omega from my school to get a commission.”
“I didn’t think omegas were allowed in the army.”
“Yes we are. Have been for a few years. In fact, I’m going to jump school in a few weeks.” Ha, fool that you are, take that. “Am thinking about Pathfinder or Jungle School too.” Now that last was just an empty boast. There is no way in hell I’d step foot in Panama with Manuel having any kind of power there. Now Pathfinder is another story. It’s only five weeks, Quartermaster is one of preferred branches to go and the school is in Fort Benning, Georgia. I could do that. It’s something to look into. Took a swig of ale, oh yeah, that’s not good.
Nelson smiled, fished out a beer and was in the process of excusing himself for being less macho then an omega, when the roar of an engine came from out in the water as a large wooden speed boat came barreling into the little cove.
“Nice boat,” I watched as the girl at the wheel cut the engine and let the momentum take the craft up to the dock.
“It belonged to grand-dad.” Nelson looked relieved to have something to brag about. “He used to race it back in late 30’s early 40’s. Won quite a few trophies in his day. It’s a Hacker Craft triple cockpit, built in 1930, Kermath engine, 225 horsepower, can reach speeds of 60 miles per hour...” He suddenly stopped in mid-sentence as his nose wiggled like an excited rabbit.
“Sorry,” blushed to the ears. “I like fast cars and motorcycles, didn’t think talking about boats would do that too.” Haven’t slicked like this since Tim the tech and I got kicked out The Pillars Steakhouse during a rather memorable lunch when I was interning with the Rochester Police. Talking about Black Betty and taking me out on his motorcycle to the ‘Can of Worms’ interchange.....“oops, sorry. Did it again.” A couple of other alphas drifted up. Shit, gotta boogie. “Excuse me, think I hear my mother calling.” Made my escape before something unfortunate happened, as there were too many of them and just one of me. Slipping into the boathouse to just hide out for a bit to regain my composure and apparently I wasn’t the only one. The smell of excited omega just permeated the air in there.
The floating phallic symbol had just pulled into its bay, as two of its riders nimbly jumped out on to the cat walks to moor it in place. Even in the dim light could tell she was a beauty. Leather seats, mahogany body, lovingly constructed by hand and all those horses under the hood. Oh crap, not again. “If you get the slicks just seeing this baby moored to the dock,” one of them followed her nose right to where I was trying to stand inconspicuously behind the door. “You’re gonna drop trou and present after you cruise in her.”
Narked out, stepped away of the shadows. “Um, hi. Castiel Novac...”
“Wow, you are real.” one of the omega boys said. “Bry-Ann talked about you a lot. We called you ‘Cas the Corpse’ because we didn’t think you were real the way she talked you up. Just some dead body she dragged around. “Hi, Jeff Whitman here, Bry’s brother. And this strikingly handsome dude is Jared.” Whoa, twin omega boys? Rare as hens teeth. Good looking too, prolly about Ben’s age. Singlely they would have a good mating contract price, but together? Those two would go for big buckaroos. And I have really got to STOP thinking like that.
Two of the omega girls were high school buddies of the twins, while the other two were Sharons teenaged cousins. Which explained why they were so practiced at jumping on to the cat walk without a mis-step. “So are you guys in the wedding party too?”
The twins made a stereo bitch face worthy of a Winchester, “yeah we are. Have to wear those stupid omega gowns. That was the only way Sharons mom could get the church and the preacher to agree to the ceremony, as there’s gonna be no biting or Sharon getting naked at the altar. We get stuck looking like fruit loops.”
I could understand their pain. “That’s a big 10-4 good buddy. I got mated last year. Thought the priest was gonna bust a gusset because my mate didn’t do a ‘Jaws’ on my shoulder.” Then smirked, “he did later on.” Pushed aside my shirt to show the mark, “he’s a bull alpha.”
Good thing someone decided to shut the boat house door cuz there was enough slick in the air to start a mating frenzy. Course they all had to know about Johns equipment and prowess, did I get pregnant and a whole mess of other things that only omegas talk about in private (So close your ears bitches). In a while Jiff (cuz two Jeffs are too confusing) picks up a bucket from the tool stand near by, dips it in the water and upends it on himself. Then passes it to his twin. Yeah, I guess we can’t go out stinking of slick. Then each in turn till it was my shot at it. “HOLY FUCKING @#%^**&^%$#@! THAT’S COLD!”
Everyone smirked. “Yup,” one of the girl cousins said. “Never gets any warmer then that. That’s pure melted Adirondack snow you’re feeling. You should be here on New Years Day when the Polar bears come out.”
“They come down this far south from the Arctic?”
“No dumbo, the Polar Bear club. The idiots who jump in the water in the middle of winter.” She cocked her head, “you never heard of em?”
“Uh, no.” Felt a little foolish. “Nobody I knew was ever that dumb to jump in a lake in winter. Though my brother Gabe and I had to abandon ‘ship’ on the Main River in Wurzburg when the raft we built came apart. That was kinda early in the Spring and colder then crap.” And on that note, they decided I was a big enough weirdo and it was time to go up to the main house to change clothes.
I was trotting after the teens up the stairs when Jiff came to a sudden halt and took a few quick steps back. “Oohhhhhh say can you seeeee the stone fox who’s up there talking to Mom!?”
Jared took a fast look, turned and fanned himself. “Good night John Boy! You can tuck me in any night of the week!” The four omega girls were equally enthusiastic...“he’s so decent looking! Do you think he has a girl friend or an omega or.....who cares! Awe sooky sooky! Meeeeeooooowwww! Ohhhh pour on the milk, I could eat him with crackers!”
Walked around the giggling teens to see what the hubbub was all about.....okay. Ben was standing there talking to a middle aged alpha lady......oh no. I knew he would prolly be omega nip, but didn’t think Benjamin Winchester would be the cocaine to omega-dom. Okay, gotta play it cool. No, let’s really embarrass the shit out of these guys. “Hi Ben!” Waved to him. “Wanna meet my new friends?”
The pups squealed and smacked me on the arms, “no! You didn’t, you can’t.......heellllloooo there.” Instant cool, just add alpha.
Ben ambled over taking his time, doing his best Steve McQueen impression and gave that same smile Dean gave me that first day at RIT when I was admiring his fine ass running around the ice rink. “Guys, this is my First, Benjamin Winchester. Ben, this is....” went on to introduce everyone. “Why don’t you guys get to know each other, I have to check on Jeff.”
Walked off and left the lot of em to stutter and stammer at each other. I can be SUCH a bastard sometimes.
Several hours later, I was standing with the rest of the groomsmen at the altar in the Saint James Episcopal Church. They were assorted cousins on both sides and Sharons alpha brother, as the bridesmaids were cousins, friends and Bry-Anns beta sister. The twins were the there to cover their heads and show off their bare ass omega butts. We had practiced processing in, groomsman first, bridesmaids second, omegas third. Then in came the bride, escorted by her father.
Her dad would hold her hand until the priest would ask, ‘were you given a pearl of great price to replace the one you hold today?” Wonder idly what Bry and her family gave to have Sharons contract?
Daddy sez he was, priest sez he can now hand over the merchandise (not quite in those words but close enough) and dad now puts Sharons hand in Bry-Ann’s. The priest asks the questions...blah, blah, blah...do you take this.....yeah, yeah, yeah......put on the collar.......put on the ring (for Bry-Ann) kiss and there you have it. Omegas put your clothes back on and lets go get drunk at the country club.
Sharon is looking rested and well shopped (if the forgotten tag on her obviously new skirt is any indication) from her day in Saratoga. Bry-Ann was brown as a nut from her time out on the links with dad and father in law. Which is going to look super when she puts on her white tux. Good thing the ‘no biting’ light is going to be on. With all the white and yellow duds, it would look like something out of a Hershel Gordon Lewis movie.
When Celia Franklin decided that her little omega daughter was going to get mated like any beta or alpha. I tell you what, when that beta put her mind to something, she could almost put Naomi-mom to shame. Notice I said ‘almost’. It was amazing what she did in just a month.
She must have put the strong arm on someone because the church, priest and country club were all cobbled together in three weeks.....in June and these were some pretty nice places too. One of Sharons more talented aunts and cousin made her mating gown along with all the bridesmaids dresses and omega gowns as their gift to the happy couple. Like an omega gown was hard, it was a long chiffon poncho with breech clout to match.
Rehearsal only took about an hour, so it was still plenty light out at 06:00 and dinner wasn’t going to be for another half hour.....soooooooo, hows about a ride in that shiny speed boat? But first have to get Jeff fed, changed and set down in his borrowed crib. He was in the puppy corral along with the other little guys, which was good for him as he never really was around any other pups, except in the waiting room at the Womans and Omegas clinc, when we went for check ups.
“Hi there Champ,” I hefted him up and nuzzled into his sweet chipmunk cheeks. “Have a good time with the other pups?”
Jeff yawned, “dadddaddadd.”
“Papa, say papa. You said it once during graduation. Come on, you know you can do it.”
“Daddadaadaa.”
“You’re killen me here.” Sighed and wandered about the ground floor looking for a quiet and secluded place to nurse, as I didn’t feel like climbing all the way back up to the third floor till I had to. The front living room would be nice, oh to sink into those leather couches but too many people around. Check that, too many alphas around to whip out a tit. Ambled down a hallway and right next to a small water closet, was what seemed to be a den/office/husbands hiding spot. Either way, it was quiet and had a lock on its door.
The room was comfortable, very manly and there as the aroma of books, good cigars and brandy infusing the air. Not like Johns hide away at Fort Riley, which was more of a working office, this was more of a get away to smoke, drink a fine brandy or scotch and discuss alpha male things. There were built in shelves, lined with hard covered books and not a paper back in sight. There was a leather couch against the wall, two overstuffed leather chairs facing it and a large ottoman that seemed to serve double duty as a foot rest and coffee table. A rather expensive big brother of the little flowered version I have back at Riverton. The walls were white wash plaster, ebony wainscoting with dark beams on the ceiling. There was original art on the walls, hunting dogs, pheasants and alike.
Jeff was eating mostly that mushy food that looks and smells like c-rations. Cows milk in his bottles rounds out his meals these days. Was still expressing some milk for Emma as it seemed to be the only thing controlling her colic. Just didn’t want to show up at Benning still dropping milk left and right. Sighed as I stretched out on the couch, pulled the rugby and nursing shirts off, letting them fall to the floor. Gave my chest a little shake, the boobs seemed to be a bit smaller but still see a nursing shirt in my future for a while. Oh why does life have to be like an infantryman with a jeep? Either dead stop or full bore?
Jeff was all for the change up in diet, as he latched on and started sucking for all he was worth. Making little grunting sounds and pat patting my breast, he was one happy boy. “Silly puppy,” sighed and leaned my head back. “What am I gonna do with you? Will just have to love ya I guess.” Closed my eyes for a moment, must have been tireder then I figured (had been up since ‘oh dark thirty’) cuz I’d dozed off and the next thing I know, am hearing a deep alpha male voice speaking in the gentle cadence of someone reading a story aloud:
“Who comes?” demanded the scout, throwing his rifle carelessly across his left arm, and keeping the forefinger of his right hand on the trigger, though he avoided all appearance of menace in the act. “Who comes hither, among the beasts and dangers of the wilderness?”
“Believers in religion, and friends of the law and the king,” returned he who rode foremost. “Men who have journeyed since the rising sun, in the shades of this forest, without nourishment and are sadly tired of their wayfaring.”
“You are then, lost,” interrupted the hunter, “and have found how helpless ‘tis not to know whether to take the right hand or the left?”
“Even so; sucking babes are not more dependent on those who guide them then we who are of larger growth and who may now be said to possess the stature with the knowledge of men. Know you the distance to a post of the crown called William Henry?”*
The voice stopped a moment, “that’s right down the road from here. If you’re a good pup, I’ll take you down there.” Could hear the flipping of pages...... “you wanna hear more about Hawk-Eye, Uncas and Chingachgook?”
“Dadadadadadada!”
My eyes fly open to see my son contentedly leaning against the chest of Irv Franklin, Sharon’s father. He had one hand on Jeff’s middle and in the other, the small hard cover book he’d been reading from. I guess after this, ‘Pat the Bunny’ just isn’t cut the mustard for my boy. It was the kind of sweet scene that I’d imagined for John or Dad.....then noticed my shirts neatly folded on the ottoman.
Kind of jumped a bit, but was relieved to find a colorful afghan draped over me. Irv looked up over his reading glasses. “Hi there, nice to see you awake.”
“Uh, hi Mr Franklin. Uhhhh, sorry about the intrusion, just wanted a quiet place to nurse Jeff and not to seem ungrateful, but how did you get in? I locked the door.”
“Skeleton key, the pups used to lock themselves in here or the bathrooms all the time when they were little. Dad had one made years ago to fit about every lock in the house.” He nuzzled Jeff’s soft downy hair. “Great to have little ones running around the place again and it’s Irv. Mr Franklin was my father.”
Sat up, keeping the afghan against my chest. “What’s going on now?”
Irv set the book down on the ottoman and stood up. “Stu Whitman has that pig out of the coals and was carving him up when I left to come in here. So, I suspect the hungry horde is making short work of it. “Tell you what, me and the mugwump here will head outside to the party, while you put yourself together. Sound good to you?”
“Sounds like a plan Stan,” Irv got up holding Jeff in the ‘shopping bag’ position, crossed the room and out the door. I stood and sniffed the air cautiously.......just in case....nope not even a hint of of cum, slick or arousal. Should’ve known better then to doubt a man with an omega daughter but considering the lewd side glances Zachariah had been sending my way over graduation weekend, I could be none too careful. Sad to have this moment of uncertainty about an honest and good man.
Got dressed and went out to find the party in full swing. Tiki torches lead the way down the stairs from the back porch down to boat house where some one had gone wild with the Christmas tree lights. The radio was still baring away: “Here we go with the Top 40 hits of the nation this week on American Top 40, the best-selling and most-played songs from the Atlantic to the Pacific, from Canada to Mexico. This is Casey Kasem in Hollywood, and in the next three hours, we'll count down the 40 most popular hits in the United States this week, hot off the record charts of Billboard magazine for the week ending June 17th 1978”
A long table was set up on the deck and looked like it was about to fall in from the sheer weight of all the food piled on it. In the corner, attached to a long extension cord stood a refrigerator with a beer tap on its door. “Best kegerator money can build,” Sharons brother Bill slapped me on the back and handed me a glass. “There’s a guy up in Port Henry that makes em. Dude is a genius.”
Taking a sip, wait until Bill’s out of sight, then pour the beer over the side. Blahhhhh, American beer tastes like shit. Decide on a Pepsi instead and dig it out of the same wash tub that was full beer this afternoon. Ohhhhhhhh, caffeine! Have been soooo good with just one cup of instant coffee a day but now....now...oh come to me oh dark goddess of fizz. Take a near by church key, flip off the top and take that cold wet mouth to my lips like a lover. Guzzle down the whole thing, set the ‘dead solder’ down and fish out an other. This one I take slow to enjoy the taste caramel, sugar and caffeine.
Figure it’s time to find my pup and get him to bed. As I’m mingling my way through family, friends and ‘who the hell are you types’, pass the omega boys and girls I’d had met earlier today. They were surrounding Ben giving him quite the rush. “The local drive in is playing a double feature, ‘Grease’ and ‘Sargeant Peppers Lonely Hearts Club Band’, you wanna go with us?” Jared and Jiff are on either side of him as the girls are working hard to keep his attention on them. Oh to be the ‘belle of the ball’. My First wearing a big shit eating grin on his face.
I find Jeff still with Irv Franklin; the two of them are with the rest of the adults in a little glade away from the loud music and Christmas lights. They had a card table set up with a few lawn chairs, lit by the soft glow of jar candles. Jeffs face was covered in pork grease and barbecue sauce and he was happily sucking on a hunk of pig’s ear. Having been to enough roasts, I know how tasty those things can get. “Hey there Pops,” Irv called out. “You aren’t gonna have a problem feeding this pup. He eats everything. Never saw a young-un so less fussy about his supper.” Which of course lead to stories of Sharon and Bry-Ann, what they would and wouldn’t eat. Toilet training mishaps and all matter of sweet embarrassing little stores that I tuck away to bust on em later with. But in the mean time...
“Think it’s time somebody gets a new diaper and put to bed.” Held out my arms to which Irv reluctantly lets him go. “Come on there ‘Sunshine’, say ‘night night’. I take his little hand and wave.
“Irv!” Almost dropped the pup in surprise. Irv of course preened happily, “smart little guy you got there. You can bring him back any old time.”
Fuck. Little brat says everything but ‘papa’.
Was pretty well pooped out by the time we get to the third floor. Shut the window to block out the sounds of the party then turn on the air conditioning. Remembered back to those hot nights in Panama where us pups would be camped out on the balcony under mosquito nets just trying to catch a little breeze so we could sleep. “It’s a long way from a barrio balcony,” told Jeff as I washed him down in the bathroom sink. “To this. Even if we’re just guests.”
“Irv!”
“Papa, say papa”
“Daaddadaaaaddaaaaa!”
“Good night John Boy, you’re going to bed.”
The next morning I wake up to find Ben plastered to my back like an octopus and a stick of morning wood up the crack of my ass. Winchester the Third had only got himself partially undressed, he must’ve been awfully quiet or I was awfully tired, didn’t even feel him come to bed. His pants and shoes were off but everything else stayed on. Which brought attention to his face which was awash in peach lipstick, somebody did a ton of smooching. Then, on a whim, tossed off the covers. Oops, lipstick on the dipstick. Only this was a light shade of cotton candy pink. And that’s when I pushed him out of bed.
He woke with a start and a more then a few curse words. Bi-lingual too, color me impressed. On the other hand, don’t. “Why the hell did you do that?”
Sat cross legged on the bed looking at him like he’d turned into the most interesting bug under the microscope. “How was your night last night?”
Ben grumbled getting to his feet. “You woke me up to ask me that?!”
“Only cuz you’re paved in two different shades of lip stick and now that I notice, hickey-city.”
He dashed out the door and to the bath. Could hear the shower running a moment later. Walk over to the crib to where Jeff was wide awake and filling his diaper. Ewwww, that barbecue sauce was not coming out well at all. “Sorry kiddo, gotta wait a moment or two for your.....brother.....uncle....oh what the ever livin rat fuck relation he is, to come out.”
Herr Winchester der Drei came out a little bit later, wearing nothing but a towel and a look of shameless alpha pride.
“Dummer affe,” leaned over the crib and pulled off Jeff’s plastic pants. Yuck. “What did you do..er..let me re-phrase that....what did they....brilliant Novac, it’s obvious what they did. Okay, let’s take it from the top.. were you at least careful?”
“Nothing happened,” he began. “Okay, stuff happened. But not what you think.”
“I can think a lot of things,” I said darkly.
“We went to the drive-in. The first movie was really great.” He did a few dance steps and sang: “Grease is the word it’s got a groove, it’s got a meaning” Huh, didn’t know Ben had such a nice singing voice. Then he made a bitch face worthy of any Winchester. “The second movie was so stupid we left after 10 minutes.”
“Okay, then what?”
“We came back and took the cabin cruiser out.”
“In the dark?!”
He got rather defensive, “it had running lights and we were just following the shore line. Went to Cannon Point and pulled on to the little beach there. Sat around, had a few beers, nothing special.”
“And I suppose those hickeys and lipstick just appeared on you through osmosis?”
Now Ben got defensive, “geeze. You’re worse then Mom.”
Now THAT got my dander up. “No, I’m your First. I’m going to be defending you if the shit hits the fan. Okay pup, spill. What happened?” Made a mental note: Jeff darling. You are never going to leave the yard until you’re 30. And even THEN I’m going to have to think about it.
He shifted and squirmed, “they wanted to know if you were really my First.”
“Yeah, so?” Knew right where this was going because I heard enough stories from other omegas in Finishing School.”
“Told em yes you were. So they wanted to know if you taught me any.......‘stuff’.”
JESUS H. CHRIST! Why does everything I do come back to bite me in the ass?!
“So I told em about you taking me ‘around the world’ and ‘the missionary stories all authentically told in the missionary position.”
“And what did they say?” I choked out.
“They loved the bouncy little locusts.”
Slapped a palm to my forehead, “you did have rubbers, right? RIGHT?”
He looked offended. “Of course, you taught me to be a responsible alpha. But I didn’t need em. They were all on the pill and suppressants.”
I’m dead, Ben’s dead.....we are ALL fucking dead! “You popped all their cherries!? Do you know how much trouble you’re in?!”
Ben looked like the proverbial cat that ate the canary. “None, those cherries done got popped already. I didn’t go where any alpha hadn’t gone before.”
On the upside, okay. No harm-no foul. On the downside.....I’M COMING ELIZABETH! IT’S THE BIG ONE HONEY! This is the Universes way of getting back at me. I know it. For all those covered over gray hairs on Naomi-Moms head and all the trips she made down to the MP’s office to talk Gabe and me out of trouble. Only to whup our ass’s all the way home. “Get dressed, go downstairs and make nice. The mating ceremony is in.......three hours. MOVE IT! MOVE IT! MOVE IT!”
He picked up his clothes and took off for the bathroom as I stood trying to get my heart to stay in my chest and not hammer its way out. “Jeff, don’t you EVER do anything like that EVER!”
“Irv!”
“Papa, say......oh what the fuck.”
He cocked his little head questioningly. “Fuc?” You can say that and not Papa? Oh that just figures.
Went downstairs after getting Jeff and myself cleaned up and dressed. The house was an anthill of activity, half the people were scurrying about, while others were sitting at the large kitchen table trying not to move...or puke....or have their brains leak out of their pounding heads...or all of the above. And yes, I can not help myself. “Hey Nelson Eddy, how you do’in buddy?”
Nelson looked up at me from his coffee though eyes that looked like road maps of Korea. “I hate you. The rest of us hate you and you can eat shit and die.”
Anything else I was gonna say was cut short by Celia who was popping bread into a four slice toaster next to a large coffee urn. “Be nice now. Some of us just celebrated a little hard yesterday. Anything I could make you?”
Didn’t want to be any trouble but it looks like she had some scrambled eggs and sausage already started. (Obviously the overhead oven fan was roaring along at full blast to keep the smell from drifting) Picked up a paper plate and a plastic fork, dished up some eggs and sausages along with a cup of coffee. Then took a seat at the table. In three....two.....one....Houston we have lift off. I suddenly found myself alone with seven abandoned coffee cups. “I did absolutely nothing wrong,” poked some egg into Jeffs mouth. “All I did was sit down.” Wait for it......“do you think it was my breath?”
Celia shook her head, “when Sharon described you I didn’t believe a word of it. Now, I think she may have under exaggerated you.” Somehow don’t think I’ll be invited back to Cramers Point any time in the near future. Jeff ate most of the scrambled egg, while I finished off the sausage, after which we went back upstairs to get into our respective monkey suits.
A nanny had been hired for the day to watch all little people under the age of seven. The pups could come to the mating ceremony but were taken back to the house the minute church was over.
From the Glens Falls Post-Star, Society Page Monday, June 26th 1978:
On the 24th day of June 1978 at the Saint James Episcopal Church, Miss Sharon Louise Franklin, omega daughter of Mr. and Mrs Irving Franklin of Scarsdale, New York mated Alpha Bry-Ann Elizabeth Whitman, the daughter of Mr and Mrs Stewart Whitman of Verona, New York. The right reverend Father James Grey officiate the ceremony. The bride was collared but what is now the newest fashion, not bitten and the groom placed upon her own finger the promise ring of no prerogative.
The mating party entered to ‘Ava Maria’, Miss Franklin entered to ‘The Bridal Chorus’. The soloist sang ‘Evergreen’ from the movie ‘A Star is Born.’ The recessional was a rousing rendition of the ‘Wedding March.’
The bride wore a satin A line floor length gown with a medium train, lace bodice and bell sleeves. Her veil was silk tulle and also floor length. The brides maids wore mint green halter style evening gowns, the maid of honor in a similar style only in yellow. The omegas were clad in black chiffon with matching breech clouts and head covers. Groomsman were in yellow while the best man was in a brown tuxedo. The reception was held at the Lake George Club where the Brides family have been members for three generations. The happy couple will be honeymooning in Montreal, Canada before returning to Rochester, New York where they are students at Saint John Fisher and the Rochester Institute of Technology.
The Lake George Club, nice joint for a reception. Food was okay, the champagne a whole lot better. Think I drank most of a bottle. The cake was chocolate and I had three pieces. The band they hired seemed to know every song under the sun and played it well, cuz the dance floor never stopped jumping. Later that evening, I learned how to water ski, prolly should’ve taken off the tux first (don’t think I’ll get that deposit back) and turned down at least six offers of sex from various members of both sides of the family. Bry-Ann and Sharon didn’t take off for their wedding night at the Gideon Putnum Hotel in Saratoga until late as they were having too good a time. They promised to be back the following morning to open wedding gifts before heading out to Montreal.
Jeff still will not say Papa. But can now say ‘Irv’, ‘fuc’, ‘dada’ and ‘poo’.
Ben disappeared half way through the party with the twins, the girl omega cousins, their friends and two beta bridesmaids. He didn’t reappear until the next morning wearing nothing but a smile and one of the bridesmaids dresses.
I didn’t ask.