Ty and Cinda face new adventures–some good and some bad–in college, cementing their relationship forever.

Mom and Dad were up early Saturday morning to see us off. We refused breakfast, telling them we preferred to stop after a few hours for a break. It was almost 5:30 when we hugged and kissed them good-bye and climbed into the truck, Fred with his head out Cinda’s window. I stopped at the end of the driveway to allow a big semi to pass then turned to look at her. “You ready?”

“You going to be with me?”

“Every step of the way!”

“Then bring it on, world!” She gave me a quick kiss then Cinda held my hand tightly as we moved forward eagerly into a bold new chapter in our lives.

CHAPTER 18

I closed the window once we were on the interstate to protect Fred’s eyes. Even a fly or a mosquito could blind him at highway speed. He laid his head on Cinda’s shoulder, instead satisfying himself with her petting in lieu of the wind in his face.

Traveling with Fred slowed us down considerably. We stopped roughly every two hours so I could walk Fred on his leash while Cinda used the facilities. Then she gave him a bowl of water. I always bought a Coke or gas in appreciation for allowing us to use their property.

Cinda and I had joined AAA, primarily for this trip. I had a Trip-Tik map and a series of guide books to help us find a pet-friendly motel. We stopped after driving a bit over 400 miles, going to a sandwich shop–one that had picnic tables outside—so we didn’t have to leave Fred in the hot truck. He sat quietly never begging or whining for food. I had trained him as a puppy to be patient; he knew he’d be fed once we returned to the motel.

I had learned early on that dogs are people magnets. Fred always attracted people—children especially, and attractive women, too whenever and wherever we stopped. I welcomed the children who always wanted to pet Fred; I had no interest in the women even though Fred enjoyed the attention.

Cinda and I showered together in the tub, the shower curtain, something we’d had limited experience with, barely giving us enough room to wash. On the other hand, I enjoyed the constant touch of Cinda’s tight body against mine. Even after all this time we were thrilled being together, touching and loving each other every bit as much as our first time back in Cinda’s room.

We were tired, but Cinda and I were never too tired for each other. I fell onto the bed and a second later a giggling Cinda covered my body with hers. “I know you’re beat, Ty; why don’t you let me do the work tonight?” Leaning down she kissed me with her usual tenderness and even more love as her inquisitive tongue explored my mouth.

Cinda loved to hold my head, gripping my unruly hair in her surprisingly strong hands as she mashed her lips into mine and slid her tongue into my welcoming mouth. She rubbed her breasts into my chest, swirling her swollen nipples through my sparse hair. Here I was—a nineteen year old—and I still shaved about once a week. Kenny told me one time that I was lucky. He was my age and he already hated shaving. Unfortunately for him, Mandy hated stubble and she’d told him several times to forget a beard or mustache.

My eyes were closed as Cinda began to work her way down my body, kissing and licking as she went. I opened my eyes in shock as she nibbled my tiny nipples. “Hey…I’m supposed to do that to you.”

She giggled as she whispered, “Okay,” and moved up to stick her hard wrinkled nubbin into my waiting mouth. I licked and suckled for several minutes. “That’s nice…really nice, but I’d better get to work if we want any sleep tonight.” Pulling her nipple from my mouth she kissed me again and moved quickly between my legs. Her tongue wound its way around my cock, spending more than enough time on the head as I groaned and gasped in ecstasy. Several times around my helmet with Cinda’s teasing tongue always drove me wild with lust. “I don’t know why, Ty, but I just love the texture of this. The way it feels on my tongue is just incredible.” All I could do was groan.

My rock-hard organ disappeared into Cinda’s mouth a second later. Her head bobbed up and down while her hands gently cupped and massaged my balls. Suddenly, she changed tactics and sucked mightily, tightly running her hand up and down my shaft. Dear God! How could I possibly resist? My balls pulled up to my body as my first thick rope of hot slick cream erupted into Cinda’s mouth and throat. Five times that was repeated until I was completely and totally drained. Cinda pulled the last drops from my tip, kissed it one last time, and climbed up my body to place her head in its usual spot on my left shoulder. I barely had the energy to pull the blanket over us. I had just whispered, “I love you so much,” when Fred came to stick his cold nose into Cinda’s neck. I petted him briefly then fell deeply asleep.

We drove roughly the same distance the following day once again stopping every two hours. We stopped for the night less than two hours from Baton Rouge and our 10:00 appointment with Dora Loomis, our realtor, and a representative of First Bank of Louisiana, the bank that had foreclosed on the property. Tucked into a pocket in the back of my seat was an official check for $125,000 payable to Cinda and me—our final payment on the house. I could easily afford to pay cash, the only worthwhile thing I’d received from my miserable excuse of a grandfather.

That night I returned the favor for Cinda, sucking her labia into my mouth before gently nibbling those delicate tissues between my teeth. I knew just how much that always drove her crazy. After tongue fucking her for almost ten minutes and bringing her right to the edge I withdrew my tongue so I could suck her swollen bud into the tiny space between my teeth. Only a fierce bite on her pillow prevented an earth shattering scream from my beloved. We slept well that night, too.
Arriving at the realtor about ten minutes early we led Fred into the office of Geaux Tigers Realty. “I hope you don’t mind,” I told Dora. “I don’t want to leave him in the truck.” She told me she understood. Dad had warned me—“Be prepared to write a lot of checks, Ty.” That was exactly what I did, using almost a quarter of my new checkbook’s fifty checks. Finally, after an hour and after we had endorsed the official check to the bank we received the keys and garage door openers, shook hands with Dora and the banker and began to leave.

“I’ll be watching for you, Ty. You’ve caused the most excitement since Shaq came to school here.”

I had to laugh. “Thanks, but I’m not Shaq…I doubt there will ever be another like him.” I took Fred’s leash and a minute later we were in the truck. Fifteen minutes after that we were in the garage. Cinda took Fred into the house to look around while I removed his bowls and the rubber mat we always used to contain water he spilled while drinking. I turned on the air conditioning and opened the taps to flush the pipes before drinking from them. Cinda turned on the refrigerator and freezer. We threw the first ice cubes made into the sink. Cinda put Fred out into the back yard. It had been sprayed by an exterminator last week and would be every month we lived there.

I carried everything in from the truck while Cinda phoned Monroe, making arrangements to get together for dinner. “Tell him to bring a date,” I called out as I began to inflate the air bed we’d use tonight until our furniture was delivered tomorrow. I placed it and Fred’s bed in the master bedroom then Cinda helped me make the bed with sheets, blanket and pillows. Only when we were done did we realize that we had nowhere to sit other than the floor. Cinda hugged me as we laughed at our obvious failure to recognize even that basic need. Leaving Fred in the house we drove to Home Depot where we bought some plastic lawn chairs then it was off to COSTCO where I bought a large screen TV and a wall mount. I spent about two hours that afternoon mounting the TV on the living room wall and connecting to the cable. I was done just before five and we were just about to relax when the doorbell rang.

As expected, it was Monroe—and his date. I almost fainted when I saw who it was. I led them into the living room. “Juanita!” Cinda was ecstatic. “You and Monroe? That’s incredible!”

“I told you I thought she was really hot and she’s even hotter now that she’s an incoming freshman.” Monroe had a huge smile on his face as he hugged his sister. “You look really great, Cin. I guess this white boy is taking real good care of you.” He laughed as we joined him. We all knew how much Monroe loved Cinda–and me, too. “Hey guys, I just love what you’ve done with the place—great furniture!”

“You can just sit on the floor, Monroe,” Cinda told him laughingly. We sat and talked until I asked where they wanted to go for dinner.

“How about a seafood buffet,” Juanita asked. “There’s a great one just the other side of campus.”

“Okay with me so long as I don’t have to eat one of those red spiders.” They all laughed, but I continued, “I was being serious.”

“Speaking of serious, let’s drive past the Maravich Arena on the way.” I gave Monroe a questioning look, but he just said, “Trust me. It’s something you’ll want to see.” We left around 5:45, climbing into Monroe’s new compact—a gift from Momma and her inheritance. He drove us a bit out of the way, taking a detour around the arena. There, hanging almost the entire height of the building was a huge banner of me taking a long jump shot in my hundred-point game. Beneath it was a single word—TY!—and the number 101. I was overwhelmed and embarrassed. Cinda was thrilled.

We had a great time and I was surprised that several people at the restaurant recognized me—the price, I assumed—of having a huge banner with your name and picture. I had to turn down offers for free dinners. “Thanks, but I can’t accept—NCAA regulations,” I explained.

Cinda and I listened as Juanita explained how she and Monroe had become an item since the wedding. “It was a bit of a struggle the last two years when I was so far away, but now that I’m a student here I’m looking forward to having a great time…but only after we’re finished studying. Nothing’s getting in the way of my education–not even you, Monroe.”

I treated to dinner, of course. I knew Monroe was almost broke—NCAA regulations once again. We returned to the house around 8:30, not detouring by the arena, thank God. I fed Fred and we retired to the living room to watch a baseball game on TV, relaxing as much as we could on the plastic chairs. I had enjoyed baseball as a kid, but I couldn’t hit a curveball if my life depended on it. Once I began to strike out all the time I switched full-time to basketball. That was back in fifth grade. I made the change then and I’d never looked back. We had a great time that night, but Cinda and I were taken aback when Monroe asked if they could stay over.

“You know we don’t have any furniture, Monroe,” Cinda told her brother. “We’re sleeping on an air bed. You’d have to sleep on the floor.”

“That’s okay, Cinda,” Juanita told her. “If you have an extra sheet and blanket I’m sure we can make do. Anything would be better than the backseat of Monroe’s car.” Cinda looked at me and I nodded with a smile. We set up what we had in the second bedroom. It shared a bathroom with the smaller third that we’d use as a study center. We even gave them one of our pillows and a couple of bath towels. Cinda always slept with her head on my shoulder. We retired with Fred to our bedroom, laughing once the door was closed and locked.

“Were we that obvious, Ty?”

“No, Cinda—we were worse. I’m sure that everyone in the area knew about us—how horny we were, still are–but look how well that turned out. I’m inclined to help them out so that means we need two major purchases in the next week.”

“Huh?”

“I had a feeling we’d need a car. I’m pretty sure we’ll have very different schedules—just the opposite of high school and we might need one when Mom and Dad come down for a game or the weekend. We can shop over the next few days if you like. I also thought we might need another bedroom set so they could stay over, but I never thought we’d have a need right away.”

“You’re such a genius, Ty. No wonder I love you so much.”

I had to laugh. Cinda wouldn’t let go of my IQ even though that was only one factor of anyone’s success. I’d known a kid in middle school whose IQ was over 160 yet he was barely able to pass his courses. He was so impressed with his “brilliance” that he was completely unmotivated. I recalled him telling me once that people should be judged by what they were capable of, not what they actually did.

“Right, Cody—that’s an utterly brilliant remark! Suppose you need to have your brakes fixed, but the repair guy loses his motivation after doing three. He’s capable but doesn’t care about doing well. You’d be lucky to live five minutes after leaving the garage. Or, suppose you needed surgery and the doctor loses interest half-way through the operation; then what?”

“Gee, I never thought of it that way.”

“Face it, Cody—you didn’t think, period. There are reasons why things are done the way they are. Your potential or mine don’t mean squat. It’s the results that count, not idle daydreams.”

“Ty…Ty, where are you? You seemed to be somewhere else for a minute.” Cinda brought me back to reality.

“Oh…just thinking, but here’s what your genius is thinking right now—we need a shower….”

“So we can get dirty again?”

“You’re psychic! You can read my mind!”

Now Cinda laughed. “I don’t have to be a mind reader to know that! It what you—and I—always want. Let’s go!” She helped me to undress; I reciprocated and we walked together into our shower. It wasn’t quite as big as the one in Grandma’s house, but it was pretty big—roughly three feet by six—and certainly big enough for both of us. Ten minutes later we were dry and lying on the air bed only inches above the floor.

Cinda was about to climb on top of me when Fred stuck his cold wet nose between us. We laughed as I shooed him to his bed. Cinda leaned down for a kiss, leading with her tongue and then her sweet plump lips. She mashed them into mine as only Cinda could. We held each other for several minutes, our mouths locked together as my hands explored her succulent breasts and the marvelous three-inch space between her long slender legs. Cinda was in incredible physical condition. We often jogged together, running in early morning or evening with Fred on a long leash. We’d continue that here in Baton Rouge, bringing Fred only when the temperature wasn’t a threat to him.

Cinda reacted strongly to my touch, rubbing her slit over my cock and encouraging it to grow and harden. Suddenly she shifted position and I disappeared into her. “Pretty slick move, Cinda.”

“I have a lot of imagination when it comes to you, Ty. Sometimes I sit around for hours dreaming up new ways to get you into me.”

I laughed and laughed until my sides hurt. “As though I needed to be convinced; you know I’d live in here if I could.”

Now Cinda laughed as she began moving on me. “That would make peeing pretty interesting. Oh, Ty! Keep that up; it feels so good. Oh, yes…harder, Ty.” I drove into her with all my strength, lifting her more than a foot off the bed with every powerful thrust of my hips. “Oh God…Ty…it’s going to be a big one…AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH! AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!” She collapsed onto my chest and as she did my cock felt as though it had exploded. My balls drained themselves as river after river of baby cream flowed into her tunnel.

“I love you so much, Cinda,” I whispered in her ear.

“That’s nice,” she whispered. She was barely lucid for several minutes as she recovered. Her orgasm was mammoth—one of the strongest she’d ever had! We lay there breathing deeply for almost ten minutes before she spoke again. Giggling, she whispered, “I’m leaking all over you. Your thigh feels like an ice skating rink.”

Now I laughed again. “How would you know what an ice skating rink feels like? You’re from Louisiana.”

“I told you—I have a vivid imagination when it comes to you. Want another shower?”

“No…we can have one in the morning, besides…maybe we’ll wake up around three or four, or whenever. I have a great imagination, too.” I kissed Cinda, pulled the blanket over us and we found sleep almost immediately.

CHAPTER 19

Monroe had just led Juanita from the shower. They had showered together before, but not often. Usually their efforts at coupling had occurred in the rear of Monroe’s Sentra in extremely cramped conditions. Nonetheless, it was something they both enjoyed immensely. “Are you sure it was a good idea to let Cinda and Ty know about us?”

“Sure, they’re not idiots, you know. Ty, especially, is really brilliant. They’d know soon enough and now we won’t have to squirm around in my backseat. Once were ready to sleep I’ll lie on my back and you can lean on me.”

“I hope I can sleep like…. What on earth was that?” 

“Unless I’m mistaken that was Cinda expressing her appreciation to Ty for a really great orgasm. I never knew she was a screamer.”

“Wow–that must have been awesome. I wonder how often they do it.”

“Often; I’d be surprised if it wasn’t every day. They are really in love.”

“Like us, Monroe?”

“Yes, Juanita…just like us. I’m thinking maybe we should put the towel under us until we’re ready to actually sleep. I’d hate to ruin their new carpet.” He turned to the bathroom, but Juanita had beaten him to the draw. They had shared one big bath towel thinking that they might need another later in the night. Now Juanita placed it in the center of the sheet then kneeled and pulled Monroe to her. Her cocoa-brown skin shone in the dim light that filtered through the blinds from the street. Her almost black nipples and areolas stood out hard in her excitement from her large breasts. Her hips appeared wide, but only because of her tiny waist. Her pubic area was trimmed neatly into an inch-wide landing strip. Monroe thought her cunt was beautiful—just like the rest of her.

Monroe’s skin was deep brown, almost black, and his body was what one would expect from a star running back. He had added almost twenty pounds of muscle since high school while retaining his quickness and speed, the result of many hours in the weight room—the same one he’d share with Ty. His chest, arms, thighs, and calves were powerful and so was his cock. Juanita had almost fainted when she first saw it. It was BIG, what was often described in online
porn as a BBC—a big black cock. Juanita was terrified at first, wondering if it could possibly fit into her. The question was answered ten minutes later — much to her (and Monroe’s) pleasure and satisfaction. She loved the way her tight pussy stretched around Monroe, seemingly to the breaking point.

Juanita lay on top of him, her legs straddling his hips as their lips met. Juanita had come to LSU early so she could be with him. The past two years had been tough on both of them. They spoke often on the phone, but were only able to get together about once every two weeks other than vacations when Monroe was home. They had first made love a week after Cinda’s wedding and had to be satisfied with sporadic mating until now. Juanita had hoped they’d be able to do it once or twice a week, but now with Ty and Cinda owning a house she was even more hopeful. Perhaps Monroe was right in sharing the nature of their relationship with them.

Juanita loved to make out, her tongue dueling with Monroe’s, just as she loved his big paws mauling her tits roughly. She knew, however, from experience that Monroe would grow impatient—and very horny from her touch. She giggled as she reached down between their sweating bodies for his rock hard cock. She broke the kiss to raise her hips before lowering herself slowly down Monroe’s big organ. It had to be a slow process unless she was in a masochistic mood. She’d once forgotten about his size and hurt herself terribly. Monroe was beside himself with concern, but she brushed it off. “It was my fault, Monroe—not yours. I need to go slower until my pussy adjusts to you.” She had kissed him then and continued, much more slowly until their pubic hairs meshed. Three minutes later her pain had been completely forgotten as the pleasure of their coupling and the onrushing of her orgasm had claimed control of her body. She had never dreamed that sex could be so fulfilling.

Juanita had several short-term relationships in high school before becoming involved with Monroe. They had been disappointing at best. Her relationship with Monroe had completely changed her mind—she loved having him inside her—couldn’t get enough. Tonight she rocked slowly, enjoying the freedom of movement she could never find in the cramped quarters of Monroe’s tiny Sentra. He remained still at first to give her a chance to gain an orgasm. He was an extremely considerate lover. Only after more than five minutes when he was sure Juanita was getting close did he drive into her hot cunt. The combination of his girth and her tightness meant that he wasn’t going to last long even if he had masturbated earlier that day.

They had moved together for about five minutes when Monroe began to feel it deep within his core. Juanita was already trembling as their pace grew faster and faster. She was just about to let go when he leaned up to cover her mouth with his. She came hard with a long grunt that was swallowed by Monroe’s mouth. Seconds later he erupted into her tunnel. Like Cinda, Juanita had been on the pill for several years. She lay her head on Monroe’s shoulder as they rested and recovered.

“Think we should take another shower,” Monroe asked in a near-silent whisper.

“No, we’ll probably just get sweaty again. I doubt we’ll sleep through the night with you on the floor. I’m sure we’ll want to do it again before we get up. Good night, Monroe—I love you.”

“I love you, too, Juanita.” He kissed her ear, put his arm around her body and pulled the blanket over them. They were asleep in minutes.

CHAPTER 20

Cinda and I rose early just as we did every day. She looked up to see that I was awake so she shimmied up my body for our morning kiss. “I’d like to make love and sleep in with you, but we have my brother and the movers coming. I hate to say this, but I think we should get up and shower.”

“This is one of the few times I hate to agree with you. C’mon, I’ll phone the movers once we’re out and dressed. I can’t see Monroe and Juanita lying around on the floor any longer than necessary.” I kissed my wonderful wife again then pulled her up and into the shower. Fred stretched then followed us, stopping only when we were in the water.

Our showers were never boring. We touched and groped each other under the guise of washing. We both knew what the other was doing, but we didn’t care. We were young and terribly in love. This morning was no different. We played with each other the entire time, somehow managing to actually clean ourselves in the process. We exited laughing as we dried each other and dressed. I removed the air from our bed while Cinda took Fred out to the back yard.

Our rental in Indiana had a four-foot chain link fence, but we had ordered a five-foot privacy fence constructed of pressure treated lumber. It wasn’t that we planned to ignore our neighbors. We just wanted to be able to get away by ourselves once in a while. My celebrity had already been established and one hundred foot high banners would only make things worse.

Fred was drinking from his bowl when Monroe and Juanita strolled into the kitchen hand in hand. “Sleep okay,” I asked.

“I did once Monroe wore me out,” Juanita replied.

“So did I and for the same reason,” Cinda told her with a huge grin.

“Let’s face it, Monroe—we have a couple of sex maniacs on our hands.” Then I laughed and continued, “Lucky us!” We all laughed and had a great time, becoming quiet only when I turned on my cell to phone the movers. I spoke for a minute than listened. “Let’s go out for breakfast. They won’t be here until eleven at the earliest.” Monroe picked the restaurant, a place near campus with BIG portions. Had this been a weekend we would have had a choice of all-you-can-eat buffets. Since this was a Tuesday we had to make do with enough food to keep me going for three days. Monroe was well known by the staff. Apparently, it was a student favorite. I was also known even though I’d never been there. I signed more than a dozen autographs before I was allowed to eat.

We returned to the house around ten. I put Fred into the back yard with a big bowl of water. Having him inside with the movers would be a problem. We said good-bye to Monroe and Juanita who thanked us repeatedly for the meals and the use of the bedroom. We promised them a real bed for the next time. They grinned wildly at that and cheered just before driving away.

I decided that Fred needed a good walk so Cinda took his leash from the truck and we strolled leisurely down the street. We saw plenty of children playing, even some shooting baskets in the driveway. Fred drew plenty of attention; I was relieved that I didn’t. We turned around after fifteen minutes and returned home, meeting one set of next door neighbors en route. They were concerned, as were our neighbors in Indiana, about having a couple of teenagers living on their own next door. “You know,” I began, “our neighbors in Indiana had the same concerns, but we’re serious students. We spend most of our time studying. We don’t drink or smoke or do drugs and we won’t have big noisy parties either. On the other hand, we’ll be available to babysit and we don’t charge. We don’t need money; we just like kids.” We took our leave just as the moving van pulled up the street. Fred went back to the yard for the duration.

The movers left by two and we faced the small mountain of boxes—dishes, pots and pans, silverware for the kitchen and sheets and towels for the linen closet. I loaded the dishwasher while Cinda addressed the linens. We knocked off for the day around five. I put Fred out again and we drove away, a list of local furniture stores in my lap. How could I allow my horny brother-in-law to pursue his girlfriend on our floor again? That would never do! Juanita merited a decent bed.
 
We looked at about a dozen sets in three different stores before returning to the first to seal the deal. We’d have the queen bed and mattress, a double dresser, two night tables, and a set of lamps delivered by Friday afternoon, just in time for Monroe’s next visit with Juanita. We had another date for dinner.

We worked the way we always did—hard and long—and by Wednesday afternoon we were mostly done. I phoned Coach Beamon about coming in to the practice court to work out on my dribbling, timing, and shooting. We set a time for 9:00 a.m. One of the equipment managers would meet us and help with clothes and taping my ankles.

Ned shook my hand as soon as we walked through the doors. He gave me a sleeveless gold nylon jersey and purple shorts, a jock and socks. I preferred to use my own sneakers for now. Once I was dressed he taped my ankles. I was putting on the two pairs of socks and sneakers when he asked, “What number do you want, Ty?”

“Is twenty-four available?”

“Oh, a Kobe Bryant fan, eh?”

“Uh…more Bill Bradley; I love the way he played—his all-around game was incredible.”

“You’ll be pleased to know it is. Not many kids your age even know about Bradley. He was just incredible at Princeton and he helped the Knicks to their only two championships. He made all his teammates better. That’s a good choice.” He sent me out to the court where Cinda awaited me with one final comment, “I put a rack of balls out there for you.” I thanked him and jogged onto the court, kissing Cinda quickly before moving to the ball rack a few seconds later.

Unknown to me Coach Beamon and one of the other assistants walked en route to a small filming room high above the court. “Which one is the good ball?”

“The fourth on top, why?”

“He’ll never find it. Twenty says he just takes the first one he picks up.”

Ty Beamon grinned. “That’s a bet.” They shook on it just as they entered the room. “Leave the lights off, okay? I don’t want him to know we’re here just yet.”

“Who’s the girl?”

“That’s his wife—Lucinda Oates Feldner. She attended the high school where I coached along with her brother, Monroe. He’s here on a football scholarship. He played for me—three year starter, but he’s not even close to being in Ty’s class.” They watched silently as I checked out the balls.

I dropped the first one from chest height; it bounced almost as high. I replaced it in the rack. The second was better, but bounced off a bit to the side. It was out of balance. I checked every ball in the rack and I was surprised that only one was any good. I picked up the fourth one I had checked and began to warm up dribbling with alternating hands as I jogged around the gym. Ty Beamon held out his hand. “Pay me!” He laughed as a crisp twenty found its way into his fingers.

I had just finished my first lap and began to jog faster, dribbling behind my back as I ran. This was a real test of my ambidextrous abilities. My third lap I went between my legs and the fourth I alternated behind my back with between my legs. I was sprinting before I was half-way done. “That was incredible, Ty!” Cinda hugged me tightly. “How’d you ever learn to do that?”

“By starting really slowly and then increasing speed; trust me—I messed up plenty before I finally figured it out. Okay…ready to feed me?” Cinda moved under the basket. I pointed my arm and she passed the ball to me in that direction. I ran to it just beyond the three-point line, caught it in my right hand, pivoted back to the left with a quick dribble then behind my back to the right before jumping high for a shot right-handed. Cinda retrieved it once it had passed through the net and bounced below; she passed it again, this time to my left. I made the same move in reverse, shooting the jumper with my left. All around the arc Cinda passed the ball and I shot. I had covered the entire arc twice when Coach Beamon and another man walked in.

“Well, Ty—we were wondering when you were planning on missing. This is Coach Ben Trimble. He works mostly with our centers.”

I walked over to shake his hand. “I try not to practice missing,” I said with a chuckle. “Missing doesn’t require much practice, besides there’s nobody guarding me.” I turned away to move to the foul line. Twenty minutes later I’d hit fifty in a row. “That’s my objective—fifty straight. What’s with these balls, anyway? They’re all garbage except this one.”

The coaches laughed. “Just a little test we try to throw at new players. You won’t see these again.”

“Yeah,” Coach Beamon chimed in, “Ben can’t afford it. I bet him twenty that you’d find the good one. Thanks…that was the easiest money I ever made.” A second later we were all laughing. I continued even as Cinda began to wipe me down with a towel. I excused myself for a quick shower. They were sitting on some folding chairs when I returned.

“I’m glad we have this chance to chat, Ty. You need to see one of the counselors about all the AP courses you both took. That info has to be put into the computers before you register.” We promised to do that next week. We stopped off at the Bayou Bistreaux in the Student Union for lunch, returning home just before one.

I phoned Admissions and scheduled an appointment for the following Monday around eleven which would give me enough time for a decent workout on the court. I planned to repeat everything I’d done today plus some rebounding exercises I learned from my AAU coach. Plenty of players could make that first big jump, but not many could repeat time after time. Having several hours of free time Cinda and I went shopping; we needed food badly. Two hours later the truck was loaded with bags, cases of soda and water, and fifty pounds of Purina dog food. We took more than an hour unloading and putting it away. We were both too tired to go out for dinner so we grilled a few burgers, gave the scraps to Fred and retired to the bedroom to shower and turn in.

I wasn’t surprised when Cinda rubbed her body against mine. We had made love every single night—and quite a few mornings, too—since I had returned to make her mine last November. It was our special time—the time that we spent to express our love for each other. I loved the sensation of Cinda’s skin against mine, the texture and the feeling of her strength beneath.

Tonight she sucked on my neck, reminding me of our ordeal at the St. Ann’s Holiday Tournament junior year. I was able to stop her that night, but now she seemed even more determined. “Please, Cinda…everyone will see when I go to work out.”

“Hmmm…I know. Let’s just say I’m marking my territory. I’ve seen some of those girls checking you out in the student union.”

I held up my finger. “You’ve already marked me. That’s why I wear this ring. Everyone knows very clearly that I’m taken. I don’t need a hickey for that.” I reached up to kiss her while she was still distracted.

“That was cheating, but…okay—no hickeys, besides I trust you even if I don’t trust those women.” She kissed me then rubbed herself on my thigh. “Did I ever tell you how much I enjoy the muscles in your thighs?”

“I can think of a few muscles of yours I enjoy, too.” I laughed and a few seconds later Cinda joined me. Then suddenly we both stopped. “How did I ever find you? You are nothing less than amazing.”

“If I recall correctly….”

I laughed again. “You’re right—you did find me and you’ve saved me many times since then. You make me feel that I’m the luckiest man on the planet—no, make that the universe.” I pulled her to me and flipped her over, moving between her thighs as I did. A moment later I was pushing into her core—the center of her femininity as she gripped me tightly, barely stretching around my swollen organ. If Cinda’s thighs were smooth as silk then her pussy was pure velvet and when she flexed those Kegel muscles—oh, my God! The feeling was heavenly. She flexed them tonight as we moved as one. Every time my swollen organ disappeared into her body she squeezed me for all she was worth.

“Oh…Cin…,” I gasped. Then, maybe three seconds later, I blew, coating her pussy with my juice. If I was tired before I was exhausted after. I fell asleep with Cinda still in position and my arms wrapped around her less than a minute later.

Friday was busy. I mowed the lawn and took Fred for a walk while Cinda cleaned up the house in preparation for Monroe’s visit with Juanita later that afternoon. I stopped several times so neighborhood kids could pet and play with Fred. He was becoming quite the neighborhood sensation. We received a phone call from the delivery men around one telling us they’d be here in an hour. Surprisingly, they were early and were done less than thirty minutes later. I tipped them and we set about getting the bedroom ready.

They came, as they did last time around five. Monroe looked around. “I’m glad to see you got some new furniture…not that those plastic chairs were bad.”

I laughed then told him, “That’s good; I’m glad you like them because Cinda’s bringing them over to your place tomorrow morning.” Cinda and Juanita broke out laughing. Had Monroe been white like me he would have been red as can be. We left for dinner and I told him we were thinking of getting a new car for Cinda. I thought we’d go after my workout and the appointment with Admissions.

“Doggone, Cinda—with all the AP courses you have you should be able to graduate early.”

“As many as I have, Juanita—Ty has even more and his grades were even better than mine.”

“Any idea what you want for a major, Cin?”

“I’m not quite sure, but Ty wants a dual major—Finance and Business Administration.”

I could see that Monroe was thinking. “I know you’re a genius, Ty, but the athletic department might have some concerns about all the work you’ll have to do. They want you to spend a lot of time at practice or in the gym.”

“I realize that, Monroe—my dad played for Indiana. I’m more concerned with my studies than I am with basketball. Cinda and I have discussed this several times. I’ll give up my scholarship if I have to, but I doubt that will be necessary. They knew what kind of student I was when they recruited me.”

I felt like having a great meal so we drove to a well-known steakhouse—my treat, of course. Back home, Monroe led Juanita to the second bedroom while I led Cinda to our room, closing the door once Fred had joined us.

They left Sunday evening and I could see that neither had a decent night’s sleep in days. Cinda and I laughed about it all night, stopping only to make incredible love to each other. Monday morning we were at the gym by eight and I joined Cinda on the floor a few minutes later. I had another good workout and was surprised when Coach Beamon asked me to come to the Athletic Director’s office. Cinda joined me. There were two somber men in ill-fitting grey suits there with the AD.

“Ty,” he began, “these gentlemen are from the NCAA enforcement division. They’re concerned about all the money you’ve been spending recently.”

“Why would that be anyone’s business but ours?”

“I’m Eugene Robinson, young man, and I’ll thank you to keep a civil tongue in your mouth.” I took Cinda’s hand in mine and started out the door.

“Please, Ty…we need you to answer a few questions. Where did you get the money from?”

I took a pen from the AD’s desk and wrote a name on a Post-It, handing it to the NCAA people. “What’s this?”

“You asked where I got the money. Get a computer and GOOGLE “Capt. Lew Walker” then you’ll have your answer. I inherited the money from him—ten million dollars. I also have a trust fund from my grandmother that gives me $10,000 a month. Any other questions?”

“I’m sorry, but we can’t just take your word for it. People do lie, you know.” I asked Cinda for my cell, checked a number in my phone book then dialed a number on the AD’s phone.

“Mr. Cardwell, please,” I said when it was answered. “Ty Feldner here.” I was directed to Sam Davis once I learned that Mr. Cardwell was out.

“What can I do for you, Mr. Feldner?”

“I’m in the AD’s office at LSU and some reps from the NCAA have some questions about the source of my money. I’ll put you on speaker.” Turning to the others in the room I explained that Mr. Davis was one of my grandparents’ attorneys. The conversation with Sam didn’t go any better than their conversation with me. He did explain that I was an heir to a fortune, but refused to send copies of the wills to them.

“I don’t work for either the NCAA or LSU although I am an alumnus. Come down to Morgan City and bring a notarized request from Mr. Feldner and I’ll let you review the document in my presence. Otherwise, forget it.” He rung off and I agreed to write a request that was notarized by one of the secretaries. They left in a huff.

“No wonder everyone holds the NCAA is such disdain,” I commented once they were gone.

“We agree, Ty, but we’re stuck with them until there are some changes. Thanks for the info. I’m sure everything will turn out fine. I doubt there will be any other problems.” The AD rose and shook my hand. Coach Beamon walked Cinda and me back to the gym.

“Trust me, Ty dealing with this now was much better than during the season. Then you could be forced to miss a game or two while they investigate.”

“What ever happened to innocent until proven guilty? I’d probably sue them if they pulled that crap with me. I can afford that kind of legal expense, but I can see how they might run all over a normal student.” We shook hands and I headed for the shower. Twenty minutes later Cinda and I drove to the Admissions office.

There was, of course, a limit to the number of courses we could get credit for. The bottom line was simple—I’d get credit for nine courses, twenty-seven credits—almost an entire academic year–and Cinda would get credit for seven. If I took an extra course during the summer I could graduate in three years and Cinda in three and a half. Once done we drove into town to check out some cars.
 
We stopped first for lunch where we discussed our needs. We’d prefer something big enough to hold at least four people—enough for Mom and Dad when they came down for a game or for Monroe and Juanita. That meant either a sedan or an SUV. In the end we decided on the sedan. I had an almost new truck to carry big loads making an SUV unnecessary.

We looked at some Chevys and a Buick. They were okay, but we weren’t thrilled. We didn’t feel the Cadillac gave good enough gas mileage. Then, by accident we stopped in at a BMW dealership. I thought I was pulling into the Toyota lot, but I was wrong—I’d missed it by fifty feet. “What the hell,” I told Cinda. “We’re here; we might as well look.” The salesman’s approach was different; he told us about the car, answered a bunch of questions and took us for a test drive, but he didn’t try to give us the hard sell nor did he try to convince us to take something we didn’t want. Truthfully, I didn’t think he really took us seriously, but I guessed that Monday must be a slow day. We spent more than an hour there and when we were done we agreed to buy a 5-Series hybrid loaded with options and a list price of almost $72,000 plus tax.

“You guys aren’t really serious, are you? How can you afford a car like this? The payments alone will be more than a thousand a month.”

Cinda and I laughed. “This is the second time today I’ve been asked about my finances. How about if I give you sixty-five…cash?” We negotiated for another half hour and agreed at $66,500. I phoned Dan Schulman and worked out arrangements for seventy thousand to be wired to our local account. We picked up the car on Friday. Cinda drove it a bit to get used to it then we picked up the amazed Monroe and Juanita.

“Doggone, Cinda—I knew Ty was taking great care of you, but this is too much; a BMW, for cryin’ out loud.” Almost anyone else might have used profanity, but I’d never once heard Monroe swear. Cinda drove us out for dinner and then we headed back to the house where Cinda thanked me again and again until I couldn’t get it up. That was after almost two straight hours of glorious sex. We had laughed at Monroe and Juanita last weekend; now it was their turn. I could barely walk the following morning.

CHAPTER 21

Orientation Week was here before we realized. We skipped some of the activities like the campus tour, but did take placement exams in English, math, and Spanish. I wasn’t surprised to learn that both of us were exempted from Freshman English. I qualified for advanced math and would start Spanish at level four. Cinda had to take basic math, but would start Spanish at level three. Overall, we were quite satisfied. Then we went to the Freshman Mixer. It was Cinda’s idea.

To say the arena was crowded would have been an understatement. I escorted both Cinda and Juanita although I could barely understand why we were there. “We should try to meet our classmates, Ty.” That’s what Cinda had told me, but all we met were a bunch of horny guys who were less than pleased to learn that Cinda was married and Juanita going steady with a star on the football team. Truthfully, all the guys took the rejection well except one black kid who wouldn’t leave Cinda alone. I finally stopped his advances by suggesting that we go home. Cinda agreed. I couldn’t believe that the guy followed us all the way to my truck. I was just about to challenge him, but Cinda stopped me. In retrospect a good beating and a few broken bones might have been best. I still remembered many of my karate moves even though I hadn’t taken any lessons in more than two years.

Classes went well; we studied for hours every day just as we had done in high school, and we went to every home football game, sitting at the forty yard line about twenty rows up rather than at the goal line with the other students. I had bought four season tickets so Juanita and Momma could join us. We cheered as Monroe had one outstanding game after another. We usually took them out to dinner after before retiring to our home with Monroe and Juanita enjoying each other in our second bedroom.

Basketball practice began in mid-October with a midnight practice which was mostly a show for the fans. We finished in less than an hour having done only the most basic drills. I showed up the following afternoon and was almost dressed when a big guy, at least six foot eight and 230 pounds walked over. I thought he was going to introduce himself, but instead he ran his mouth in an attempt to embarrass me. “You’re okay at making layups, white boy, but today you’re going to get your ass kicked. You up against the big boys now. You might as well go home before you get hurt.” He began to laugh as I walked off to the trainer to have my ankles taped.

I saw Coach Beamon with a bemused smile a few aisles away then Everett, the guard I’d played against last year, approached the big guy. “What the hell is wrong with you? Do you have any idea who that is?”

“Yeah…some skinny white kid who’s gonna get his head handed to himself.” I closed the door and hopped onto the table. I was all set and on the court ten minutes later. Remembering my father’s advice I planned on letting my actions speak for me.

We ran some offensive plays and some defensive drills. I worked mostly with the second unit until Coach Beamon blew his whistle and called us to one end of the court. “I want to see some one-on-one—offense and defense. Harden…Feldner come on out. I want to see five consecutive tries at both ‘O’ and D.’” I found myself facing off against the same player who had threatened to run me off the court. We shot foul shots to see who would go on offense first. I could tell that Harden’s shot was mediocre at best. I deliberately missed preferring to begin on defense.

Starting at the top of the key, Harden had barely begun his first dribble when I made my move. The ball had just bounced when I flicked it away, stealing it cleanly while he stood there still expecting the ball to bounce back up into his hand. I gave it back to him and went back to defense. Twice more I stole the ball before he completed even a single dribble. Some of our teammates were beginning to laugh.

He turned his back for next try, dribbling first to his right before pivoting back to his left thinking he’d be able to drive all the way to the basket. Unfortunately, I saw what he was about and stepped into his path just as he began the drive. He stumbled into me and fell onto my body. “That’s a foul,” he exclaimed.

“Yeah, it was, but it was on you, Glenn. That was a charge.” He jumped up irate and stomped back to his starting position at the top of the key. This time he turned, faced me, and went up for a long jumper, the ball clanging off the front rim. I had the rebound before he had the time to react and follow the shot. Now it was my turn.

I held the ball in my right hand before dribbling quickly right, reversing quickly with a behind-the-back dribble. I changed direction again going between my legs and when he crossed his legs to keep up with me I knew I had him. He fell to the floor when I changed direction again and dribbled by him for an uncontested layup. My next try was simpler—just a quick dribble right and a jumper I drilled cleanly through the net. Twice more I used simple quick dribble and shoot moves, shooting with both hands, and twice more I scored on him.

He bodied up against me on my final try, thinking to out muscle me, but I’d dealt with that tactic before. I dribbled away from the basket and he let me go. I turned once I was about twenty-eight feet from the basket, jumped up and fired off a long jumper. It was a move and shot I’d practiced over and over during the summer. My form was perfect as I squared up to the basket and released the ball exactly at the apex of my leap. It was a beautiful shot. We broke up into twos and threes for foul shots once it passed through the hoop.

I was in the shower when Harden approached. “You embarrassed me!”

“Yeah, I did, but I hope you realize you were set up.”

He stood there his muscular black body slowly relaxing as he began to think. “What do you mean?”

“How often do you plan offensive moves twenty feet from the basket? Not often I’d guess, while I live there. I’m a guard; you’re what…a power forward or a center? I’ll bet you usually work less than ten feet from the basket.” I extended my hand. “I’m Ty…Ty Feldner.”

“Oh, fuck…I just realized who you are—the guy on that banner.” He laughed and I joined him until he extended his hand to meet mine. “Glenn.” We shook and washed up. Fifteen minutes later I was on my way back to Cinda, dinner, and a long evening of study followed by my favorite activity of the day—making love to my beautiful wife.

Over the next week I worked my way up to the first team; Glenn’s progress mirrored mine. We worked very well together, as though we could read each other’s mind. I realized that my days of averaging more than thirty a game were behind me. The players in Division 1 were much bigger, stronger, quicker and more highly skilled than almost anyone I had faced in high school. Instead, I worked to make my teammates better, penetrating and dishing off for easy layups.

I thought I was doing well when the head coach pulled me aside. “Ty, we didn’t recruit you just to pass. I want to see you shoot more. You’re giving up a lot of open shots I’m sure you can make. Don’t be afraid to take them.” I shrugged my shoulders and returned to the drill. Everett was the point guard, handling the ball much of the time. We ran the offense and I saw an open lane to the basket. Two quick dribbles and I went up for a short floater. I tried it again and when the defense closed on me I easily bounce passed for layups, Glenn being the recipient both times.

Glenn and I were in the shower later when he commented, “Damn, Ty—you have the most complete game of anyone I’ve ever played with or against. It’s a helluva lot better playing with you than against, that’s for damned sure.” He clapped me on the back, almost dislocating my shoulder, before we returned to the task at hand.

CHAPTER 22

I had put the incident at the Mixer out of my mind when Cinda once again had trouble. We were at the student union Saturday afternoon and I had just gone to get some soda refills. The football team had just won again with Monroe running for almost 200 yards and catching a screen pass for a long touchdown. I saw the same guy approach Cinda and heard him while I was returning to the table.

“I got just what you need here, baby. That skinny white boy got nothing to compare to what I can give you.” He grabbed his crotch obscenely. I put the sodas down and was ready to take this guy apart right in public when Cinda rose and began to walk around him. I spun him around, ready to take his head off, when he reached out to Cinda’s breast.

I stood with him eye to eye, angry enough to kill. “Listen, asshole—I’ll take you apart bit by bit if I ever see you near my wife again. You may think you’re hot stuff, but I’ve put down much bigger people than you. I’d say “men,” but you’re obviously not much of a man. Find some single girl to annoy. C’mon, Cinda.” I led her out to the parking lot. She was heading home; I was en route to Home Depot before returning to take Monroe and Juanita out for dinner again.

I kissed her good-bye at the Beemer and walked to my truck. Once again, I put that asshole out of my head. Cinda drove straight home, not noticing the rusty old pickup that followed her. She pulled into and parked in the driveway. Cinda had just opened the door and turned off the alarm when she felt an arm wrap around her waist and another over her mouth. “Now I’m going to give you what you deserve, you fucking cock tease. You’ll enjoy the last minutes of your life wrapped around my cock before I squeeze the life out of…ARRGGGHHH…OWWWWWW!”

Fred had just come around the corner and launched himself at Cinda’s assailant, burying his fangs in his arm. Shaking his head ripped open a deep wound in the attacker. Fred moved back then jumped again, biting farther up the man’s forearm. The bite forced him back and as he turned around toward the door Fred bit his calf, puncturing a vein. His blood poured onto the floor as he began to run out the door. Fred was about to give chase until he heard Cinda, “FRED! STAY!” She had fallen to the floor gasping and shaking as she pulled Fred to her.

I had just begun my shopping when my cell rang. Cinda was rambling something terrible between gasps and sobs; it was clear that she was terrified. “Call the police, Cinda. I’ll be there as soon as I can.” I raced back to my truck and sped to the house, breaking every traffic law imaginable on the way. Parking on the street I ran to the house past the police cars in the driveway.

“Hold it, buddy—you can’t go in there. It’s a police matter.”

“I live here,” I explained. “It’s my wife that was attacked.” He allowed me to enter once I had showed my ID, warning me to stay away from the blood and not to touch anything in the hallway. I walked in cautiously and was almost stopped again when Cinda ran to me, burying her head in my shoulder as she bawled and gasped.

“Fred…saved me, Ty. I had just…walked in…when he…when he grabbed me. He covered my mouth…so I couldn’t scream. Fred bit him—twice, I think…in his arm and once…in his leg. Thank God Fred was here. He was going to rape…and kill me.” I held her even more tightly, my hand clutching her head– allowing her to work her way through the ordeal. Finally, I led her to the couch.

I petted Fred’s head and rubbed his ears once I was seated. “Good boy, Fred. You saved Cinda. You deserve a treat.” I continued to pet him for more than ten minutes to reinforce his good behavior.

Finally, the detectives arrived and questioned Cinda in detail. That’s when I learned it was the asshole from the student union. “I recognized the tattoo on his right hand,” Cinda told the detective. “It’s a black widow spider, complete with the red hourglass.” We gave a description—height, skin color, hair, approximate weight, even what he had been wearing. We stopped when we heard a commotion outside. I walked to the door and spoke to the officer. A minute later Monroe and Juanita joined us. I could see that Monroe was livid; he’d kill this guy, but he’d have to stand in line behind me to do it.

The police left around nine after taking samples of the blood for typing and DNA and dusting the walls and door for fingerprints. “We’ll check for prints, but contrary to what you see on TV I doubt we’ll be able to identify him from them. They’re only useful if the guy is either in the system or we arrest and print him.” The house was a mess when they left. I put Cinda to bed then returned to help Monroe and Juanita as they cleaned up the hallway. The doorbell rang about a half hour later; it was the press. I gave a brief interview, telling them only the bare basics of what Cinda had told the police. I went to bed just after eleven to find Cinda lying there still crying and gasping for breath. I took her head to my shoulder as we tried to sleep. It was hours before we found it.

Monroe and I were in the student union the following afternoon while Juanita stayed with Cinda. It was an unseasonably warm day with temperatures in the high eighties. Everyone in the dining area was in shorts and short-sleeved shirts—everyone except one black guy who wore long jeans and a long sleeved polo. We stood behind him—about fifty feet away– at the drink machines contemplating our next move—how to get our revenge—when I heard a low voice behind me. “That the guy?” I turned to see Glenn.

“Yeah, I’m positive. He harassed my wife here yesterday afternoon. I’d like to kill him. This is Monroe, Cinda’s brother.”

They shook hands and Glenn spoke again, this time in a virtual whisper, “You do realize that neither of you can go anywhere near him. The cops will look at you first and they’ll wring a confession out of you in less than an hour. Let’s face it—you’re amateurs. If you do this you’ll wind up in more trouble than him. No…you need to trust me. There’s no way I’ll be caught and I’ll take care of him good. There’s no real connection between us other than we’re on the team together, but so are fifteen other guys. I won’t go into detail, but if not for basketball I’d probably be a career criminal. I’ve never been caught and I won’t be caught now either. You need to leave this to me. I’ll take care of it tonight. Make sure you’re at home together so you have an alibi. Believe me—the cops will be at your place before they go anywhere else.”

“You’re not going to kill him?”

“No, Ty, but I can guarantee he won’t put his hands on another woman for the rest of his miserable life.” He turned and walked away. I looked at Monroe, shrugged my shoulders, and we left to return to our house.

That night—actually it was around three in the morning—Roland Dupree—a dropout from LSU– heard an insistent knock at his door. He lived in an off-campus apartment building in which the “apartments” were basic single rooms with a small kitchen and tiny bathroom. The management catered to students, but never really checked on the status of its renters. Roland found the building a good place to scout for new victims—unsuspecting women he could force his insatiable cock into. He had ignored the first few knocks, but they continued, even faster and louder. He was pissed as he opened the door, walking into a straight right that was reinforced by a band of two inch wide steel wrapped around his assailant’s fist. Roland, knocked cold by the blow, fell back into the room, banging his head on the tile floor. That was the least of his problems. Glenn had followed him from the student union and, as he had promised, his shadowing had been completely unnoticed.

Closing the door, the attacker turned him over onto his chest, knelt on his neck then moved a short-handled three-pound sledge from his left hand to his right. The glove-clad left held Roland’s wrist as the sledge slowly but carefully broke every bone in his right hand, the heavy hammer smashing every knuckle into bony pulp. Roland’s left hand soon received the same treatment. Once he was done the attacker, who had entered the quiet apartment building completely unseen, took the homemade “brass knuckles” and the hammer, peeked out the door, and walked silently down the back stairs into the early morning. He drove his car to nearby Port Allen on the Mississippi where he threw the steel band and the sledge onto a barge that was loaded with scrap steel and was headed upriver the following morning. Scrap went up to the mills in Pittsburgh almost daily. Then he drove back to the dorm, snuck into his room, and fell quickly asleep. He had been totally undetected and revenge had been meted on the attempted rapist. It was a great night’s work.

We had stayed in on Sunday morning, skipping church and planning on giving Cinda the time to regain her composure. Monroe and I were back at home from the student union when I phoned Coach Beamon; of course, he’d already heard the news on TV and read the front page of the newspaper. Home invasions weren’t an everyday occurrence luckily. Even luckier, there was no mention of the attempted rape. “Take tomorrow off, Ty. I’ll square it with the Dean. Don’t even worry about Tuesday’s game.” Damn! I’d completely forgotten about our opener. I thanked him on Cinda’s behalf, ending the call when the doorbell rang. Juanita answered it and a second later Momma walked in. Cinda broke down again, crying into her mother’s embrace. She stayed there for more than ten minutes before they sat and Cinda, once again, related the story from the moment she had entered the house until Fred had opened her attacker’s arm and leg.

“Come here, Fred,” she called, hugging and petting Cinda’s protector. Everything was fine until Monroe mentioned going after “the bastard.”

“I don’t want to hear that, Monroe. You’ll wind up in trouble—more than he’ll be in when he’s caught. Leave that to the police. Revenge is for fools.”

“Yes, Momma—you’re right, but….’

“No buts, Monroe—you may be the big football star, but I can still put you across my knee if necessary.” I would have laughed, but I would have been in it as deeply as Monroe if not for Glenn. I wondered if he’d really go after that asshole. More importantly, I wondered if he would be successful. I didn’t have to wait long—just over a single day.

The doorbell rang again around five Monday afternoon when I walked to the door. Fred was with me and he growled until I stopped him. “Hello, Detective—please come in. Any news yet?”

“As a matter of fact, yes–we have him in custody.”

“Wow! That’s fast work. May we ask how you tracked him down?”

“Actually, we responded to a 911 call from an apartment building just off campus around four this morning. We got a call that someone was screaming in one of the apartments. The responding officers found him on the floor, his hands crushed and bleeding. We identified him by the tattoo, but barely. That’s how badly his hand was beaten. He also had been bitten twice in his right forearm and the back of his right calf. The DNA will cinch it. Mind telling me where you were then?”

“Not at all, but you just proved we didn’t do it.”

“How so?”

“He’s still alive. He wouldn’t be if I’d gotten my hands on him.”

“Hmmm…I read the accounts of your…um, disagreement with your grandfather. I have no doubt you could do the job if you had to, but how about answering the question?”

“Monroe and I were here all night. I set the alarm when we went to bed around ten. I’m not sure, but I think the security company might have a record. It was turned off around seven when I put Fred out. I probably could have climbed out the window, but I didn’t. Cinda needed me to be with her.”

“Do you have one of those small sledgehammers?”

“You mean a three-pounder? Yeah, I do. I used it to drive stakes into the garden when we were up in Indiana. I’ll show it to you. It’s in the garage on my workbench.” I led him out the door. The sledge was right where I thought it would be. He checked it out then returned it to me. It was dirty, but there were no signs of blood or skin on it.

“I hope you didn’t do anything stupid, Ty.”

“No, I’ll be happy to let the law do its work. I have no desire to spend my life in prison on account of a lowlife like him.” I said good-bye at the door and I returned to my family.

“I’m so relieved, Ty. I can’t believe that someone beat him up.”

“I can. I’ll bet you weren’t the first he assaulted. Men like that are chronic and habitual offenders. I think he’s obsessed by attractive women. Who knows? I wouldn’t be surprised to learn that he actually raped some poor woman. We’ll probably never know and I’ll be damned if I’ll shed even a single tear for him. If Detective Sommers’ description was accurate I doubt he’ll ever be able to try anything like that again.”

“Well, I wish he was dead, Ty.”

“I think this will turn out better, Cinda. He’ll probably suffer for the rest of his life and I think he’ll need help just taking a leak.” I laughed and within seconds everyone else joined me.

“I’m feeling a lot better, Ty. Why don’t we go out to dinner? How about that seafood buffet we went to?”

“Sure, just as long as I don’t have to eat any of those red spiders.”

Cinda scowled. “That was lame the first time you said it, Ty. It’s even worse now. You’d never make it as a comedian.” Then she kissed me, shook her head and smiled. “Let’s go.”

We put Fred out and we left a few minutes later in Cinda’s Beemer. I drove, allowing Cinda to relax in the rear seat with Momma and Juanita.

The mood was lighter, but not quite up to our usual standard. For one thing, Monroe and I were still concerned about Cinda. It isn’t every day that one comes close to losing one’s life. Granted, it did happen to me back when my asshole grandfather tried to kill me, but this was Cinda. I was supposed to take care of her. Monroe and Juanita left once we were home. I thanked them for their help while Cinda stripped their bed. Somehow, I doubted that Momma wanted to sleep on sheets after Monroe and Juanita had made love God only knows how many times. She slept last night on the air bed, hastily set up in our study center.

Cinda came to me, her large inviting breasts pressing into my chest in the shower. She looked up at me in her beauty and her innocence and I realized once again how close I had come to losing her. Thank God for Fred. Without him I would have been lost, too. Cinda’s lips touched mine as she whispered, “I missed you last night and the night before, too. Please take me, Ty—right now…right here. Take me and fuck me hard.” I knew she was serious—I’d told her to never use that word.

I pulled her into my arms and kissed her roughly, my lips mashing forcefully into hers, my tongue pressing into hers. In seconds I pushed her against the wall as streams of hot water cascaded around us. My arms went between her legs as I lifted her, placing her ankles on my shoulders. Cinda tried to grab my cock, but I forced her arms away. My hips moved back and when they moved forward…I missed, the head bouncing over her abdomen. Twice more I tried and, as the saying goes, the third time was the charm. The head slid in, but it still took me another four thrusts before I was seated deep within her velvet vise.

In keeping with Cinda’s plea I banged her poor pussy ruthlessly, colliding with her cervix and using my pubic hair to rub her clit. She exploded—shaking in ecstasy– when I pinched and twisted it between my thumb and forefinger, her convulsions pushing me back more than a foot. I kissed her again as I filled her, coating the sensitive walls of her cunt.

Cinda giggled as I recovered. “Maybe you should put me down. Momma will know what we’re doing. We’ve been in here a long time and we’re dirtier now than when we began.”

“I don’t care if she knows. We’re allowed. We’re married, remember?”

“Yes, darling; I love when you do me, but I hate the thought of anyone else doing it. That’s what I was most afraid of, Ty—not dying, but…” I silenced her by covering her mouth with mine as I lowered her legs, grabbed the soap and bathed the most wonderful woman in the world.

We climbed into bed ten minutes later laughing and loving like old times. “I’m so lucky,” I whispered, “to have you, Cinda. I love you to pieces.”

“I love you, Ty, but I think we need to sleep. We have classes tomorrow morning and you have a game tomorrow night.” She kissed me again, snuggled close and the next thing I knew the alarm was blaring in my ear. I dressed, put Fred out and began breakfast. Momma left an hour later for work and we were back to normal. We had classes in different directions so I waved good-bye to Cinda and climbed into the truck.

We expected a reaction from our classmates and we got one. The story had made local TV and the front page of the Sunday newspaper, fortunately way down the page. Today’s told of the arrest of a suspect. Later in the week it would be revealed that four rapes and a murder over the past year had been solved with his arrest. This man would see a long time in prison, probably even life. Detective Sommers stopped by on Thursday evening with the news, confirming that other prisoners hated rapists even to the point of murdering them. Rarely were such killings ever solved. That sounded just fine with me.

I picked Cinda up after my third class for lunch at the student union before driving home for four hours of studying. Then I left for the pre-game meeting and dinner. I was on the foul line during the shoot around when Glenn dribbled over. Maintaining my concentration on the rim I spoke quietly, “I owe you one. Just make sure you move to the basket on my drives.” He shot the ball, laughing as it clanged off the front of the rim. Mine went through the middle of the hoop.

CHAPTER 23

We played our first game that night against the Southeastern Louisiana Lions—a school that was about fifty miles east of Baton Rouge in Hammond—a game that should be an easy tune up for us. I played well on defense in the first half, but, clearly, my mind was elsewhere on offense where I had three points and three assists. We were in the locker room at halftime listening to Coach analyze our play. “Fair, but that’s all. We should be up twenty instead of eight. You all right, Ty?”

“Sorry, Coach—it’s been a really tough weekend. I’ll be okay.”

“Don’t be afraid to be more aggressive. We all know how you can score. Okay…let’s go.”

We were walking to center court when Everett took me aside. “Relax, Ty. Your wife is okay and we’ll still like you if you miss a shot.” I laughed. The second half was better. I shot five for six—three for three on three pointers—and dished to Glenn for five assists as we opened up a twenty-two point lead midway into the half. I’d done okay and I felt better when Cinda joined me just outside the locker room.

I was determined as the season progressed to be an integral part of the team rather than carrying them as I did in high school. That honor went to Everett, our senior captain, although I had several games where I was on fire, much as I had been in my record-setting hundred point game. My play improved game by game once I was more relaxed and knew that Cinda was and would be safe.

We did well, finishing 22-8 before playing in the NCAA’s. We won our first two games–both against lower seeded teams–going all the way to the Sweet Sixteen where, unfortunately, we lost to an extremely talented Duke team by three. As expected Everett led the team in scoring at 22.3 points a game. I averaged just over eighteen with decent, but not outstanding, figures in rebounds and assists.

We drove north to Indiana once we had finished with our exams in mid-May, leaving Fred with Momma and Monroe. We had an appointment with a minister—Kenny’s and Mandy’s wedding. Mandy’s dad was a millionaire many times over and the wedding reflected his affluence. The ceremony was held in a cathedral; the reception in the finest catering hall in Indianapolis. I was dancing with Cinda when I asked her, “Wish our wedding was like this?”

“Never, Ty—I thought our wedding was perfect. Everyone I knew and loved was there. That’s all that mattered. Do you wish it was like this?”

“No…this is nice, but there was something special in your tiny church and Grandma’s back yard. I thought it was wonderful.” Then, to prove my point, I leaned down and kissed her. It lasted through the song and beyond much to the amusement of our friends.

We stayed for two weeks, staying with my parents and seeing many of our high school friends. Then we drove back to Baton Rouge for the second summer session. I was half-way through the required credits for graduation when the fall semester began. Cinda was only two courses behind me.

We were thrilled with Monroe’s success on the football field and couldn’t wait for basketball to begin. I did much better as a sophomore and even better the next two years and as a senior/graduate student I averaged a triple double—23.1 points, 11.7 assists, and 10.4 rebounds a game, leading the team to the tournament each year. We made it all the way to the Elite Eight my final year before losing once again to Kentucky. Some people compared me to Oscar Robertson because of my statistics, but that was absurd. There was only one “Big O.”

I had three priorities while in college—Cinda, my studies, and basketball—in that order. That’s why our marriage flourished and why Cinda and I did extremely well academically, graduating in only three years. I had a grade point average of more than 3.8 in my dual major while Cinda earned a 3.6 in Elementary Education, a program that proved to be much more rigorous than one might think. I actually began my graduate studies during my third year while finishing my B.A. I had earned my MBA by the time our class graduated.

I turned down a chance to play in the NBA, refusing to even work out for the pros. “Don’t waste your pick on me,” I told them. ”I’m not going to play.” I had proved I could, earning SEC Defensive player of the year as a junior and senior as well as first team all-SEC three years and first team All-American as a senior. Unlike virtually every college player intending to turn pro, I already had millions—millions I planned on giving away. Besides, I had seen how fragile life could be and I hated to be away from Cinda for that reason. Monroe or Juanita had stayed with Cinda whenever I had to play away from home. Then there was the other reason—Cinda was pregnant with our first child. That was my Christmas present during my senior year—the day she went off the pill. It was the best present imaginable. Four months later her doctor confirmed she was pregnant. Three months after that we learned she would deliver a girl.

I obtained a high paying job as an analyst for a major brokerage firm in New Orleans once I had my MBA, but hated dealing with the greed I encountered every day. Everything was about money and how to get more and more and more, even lying and cheating, scheming, using every underhanded trick imaginable to get more than a person could spend in two dozen lifetimes. It may have been the American way, but I quit after six months with Cinda’s blessing and encouragement just two weeks before the birth of our daughter Amanda. We stayed in Baton Rouge for another month before reaching a life-changing decision.

We moved to Indiana, buying a farm near my parents where I became a gentleman farmer, similar to, but not quite like my dad. The old farmer had been our neighbor and had lived his entire life there; he could have made more by selling to a major builder, but that was just what he wanted to avoid. “We got enough houses here. What we need are more farms—more open spaces.” I agreed, pledging to never develop the property.

I knew there were trees and a hill near a pristine pond on the farm. I’d used it for swimming and fishing many times as a boy. It was the perfect place to build our dream home and raise our growing family. The air was clean and the schools were great. Best of all, I’d be with Cinda every day as I managed my investments and the millions of charitable donations I’d make every year. That would make everything perfect.

We had two other great reasons—Kenny and Mandy and Monroe and Juanita. Kenny had started at the bottom, running the lathes and routers and band saws his father’s company used for six months before moving to purchasing and learning how to tell good logs from bad. Only after he had married Mandy did he move into management. They were our neighbors now as well as our best friends.

Monroe had been drafted by the Indianapolis Colts. He and Juanita married after our graduation. Once again Cinda and I played our roles as matron of honor and best man. They bought one of the large upscale homes in a nearby gated community. Monroe’s football career was cut short by a knee injury, but truthfully Cinda and I were relieved. He had a ten million dollar insurance policy and he’d avoided potentially life threatening concussions, spending his life as a TV commentator working for the Colts and occasionally the Chicago Bears.

Cinda and I still made love every single day once she was recovered from giving birth. We had six bedrooms in our dream house and we were determined to fill every one of them. Cinda was right; some decisions were life changers. I thanked God every day that she’d had the strength and courage to stand up for me so many years ago at the park. She’d made me what I am today—a loving husband and father, something I hoped to be for the rest of my days.

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