Ty & Cinda–A Tale of Forbidden Love-Part 5

CHAPTER 15

We walked together into the school office to turn in our early dismissal note. Mrs. Roscoe laughed when she saw it. “Don’t trust him to go on his own, eh Cinda? I can’t say that I blame you. I never let my husband go on his own either. He can never remember what the doctor said. Okay, here’s your pass.” She handed Cinda the blue excuse slip and we walked out into the hallway. One of the first people I saw was Mitch. He didn’t look very happy.

“Surely you’re still not pissed about New Year’s Eve?”

“Yeah, but not your part. We got stopped by the cops not even five minutes after leaving your place. Jeremy was arrested for DUI and all of us were taken in for possession of alcohol by a minor. My parents had to leave a party and wow, were they pissed! I’m grounded for a month. I can’t even hang out after school. I am so fucked.”

“That’s what happens when you mess with alcohol. It might be different if you were at home, but you’re just asking for it in a car and especially on a holiday like New Year’s Eve. You can read about it in the paper or see it on TV every day. Just be glad you weren’t in an accident where someone was injured or killed. Then you’d really be fucked. C’mon, Cinda we need to get to class.”

We left school at 9:30 and were in the doctor’s office twenty minutes later. This was a big practice with eight surgeons and several physician’s assistants. The waiting room had dozens of chairs and two TV’s. As badly as I felt I realized I was lucky. There were patients in all kinds of casts including one man with both legs encased from his toes all the way up to his hips. We waited for twenty minutes before I was called to an exam room. I took Cinda by the hand and followed the nurse. I turned down her offer of a prescription for more painkillers then we waited for the doctor. Luckily, we didn’t wait long.

He handed me a plastic mask with adjustable elastic straps to go both behind and over my head. “What do you think, Ty?”

Moving it in my hands I could see that it was much too wide and much too flat for my head. “I don’t think it’ll fit.”

He laughed. “That was a trick question, Ty. It won’t fit until I’ve adjusted it to your head. Watch this.” He took the mask from me, placing it on the counter. He turned on a blue light which I recognized as UV—ultraviolet. After exposing it for about five minutes he picked the mask up and held it to my face. I was amazed when it bent around my head. It fit almost perfectly when he was done. He adjusted the straps being sure to tell me—okay, to tell Cinda—not to make them too tight. He finished by checking my nose and cheek. I felt better when he told me I was making excellent progress. He gave me a note releasing me to play again. We were out the door five minutes later and back to school by 11:30.

I got a few expected laughs when I walked out to practice with my mask in place. I wore it at every practice and every game. My only problem was sweating into my eyes. I solved that by removing it and toweling off at every time out and every foul shot. We were undefeated through the regular season and into the playoffs as I had a spectacular season averaging more than 31 points and double figures in rebounding and assists, too.

We ran over the competition in the regionals and went all the way to the state finals still undefeated, this time facing a team that had a highly skilled seven-footer. Even a collapsing zone couldn’t cope with him. Kenny got into foul trouble early and we didn’t seem to have enough with him on the bench. Trailing by fourteen at the end of the third quarter we were in a huddle with our coach between quarters when I took charge. “Listen, guys—get me the ball and get the hell out of my way.” I looked around and didn’t see anyone complain so I wiped my face and returned the now familiar mask to my head.

Jason passed the ball to me to start the fourth quarter. I dribbled up court, passing my opponent with a change of pace dribble and moving toward the foul line. Instead of pulling up for a shot I charged ahead for a layup, challenging the seven-footer. I leaped to the basket, holding the ball aloft in my right hand, drawing him in for the block when I switched suddenly to my left, spinning the ball under the hoop, off the backboard and into the basket. I brought my right hand up under his arm, making contact and drawing the foul. He threw his arms up in disgust. This was going better than I’d hoped. We trailed by eleven once I drained the foul shot.

Back and forth we went with my drives slowly cutting into the lead. We had it down to eight when I drove again. I faked up with my right and switched again to my left. When he moved that way I brought the ball back to my right again. Now my hand was past his body; the layup was a breeze. I made sure to bring my arm up into his body on the follow through. Foul!

He went berserk, screaming at the ref. “What the hell is wrong with you? Are you blind? That was a charge! Damn you!” A second later he was called for a technical. A “T” counts as a personal foul and that was his fifth. He had to be restrained as he was pulled to their bench still screaming and venting his outrage. I made the fouls shots—one for being fouled while making the basket and two more for the technical. We trailed by three when we took the ball out of bounds. Another layup, easy this time without a giant in my way, and we trailed by one.

They came down court, scoring on a short jumper—down three. Now their strategy changed. They fouled Mark before we brought the ball inbounds. He made both and we were down one again. They made a foul shot and I rebounded the missed second, passing to Jason with only five seconds to go. They fouled again. The clock read 0:03.4 when Jason stepped to the line. I knew he was nervous so I was relieved when he made the first. I moved to the left side of the lane knowing that his shot usually went to the right when he missed. Sure enough, the ball clanged off the right side of the rim, bouncing high into the air and to the left. I moved left and leaped high—my arm extended–spearing the ball with my left hand. I held it for a second before flipping it in a perfect high arc toward the basket. It fell through as the buzzer sounded. We’d won at last! I sank to my knees in exhaustion and relief.

The court was pandemonium as more than a thousand fans rushed the court. I stood hurriedly and kept my mask in place in self defense from the well-wishers. I must have been back-slapped a hundred times at least when I heard a familiar voice behind me. I turned and Cinda carefully removed the mask before rushing forward to hold and kiss me. She held it for more than a minute as the fans around us cheered. I whispered, “You know I’m a sweaty mess,” when she broke it.
“I don’t care. You were magnificent.” I kissed her again then moved into line for the handshakes with the opposing team.

I had reached the end of the line when their coach shook my hand. “That was the most amazing performance I’ve ever seen, Ty. You’re some player…just incredible.” He shook my hand again and I was able to return to our bench. Everyone was jumping around and celebrating. I sat down exhausted, but not too tired to accept the championship trophy and the MVP award. A month later I was named All State and Mr. Basketball. Later, in early April, I was selected to the AP and Parade Magazine All-America teams.

Holly came over often to play with Fred so he understandably became very protective of her. Thus I was shocked one morning during our Easter break when Fred began to bark, something he rarely did. He was racing back and forth along the fence and barking like crazy at Holly in the yard next door. I knew something was wrong. Fred raced in front of me as I opened the gate to her yard. He ran in, grabbed her by the elbow and pulled her back to the house. I walked cautiously past them.

Mrs. Warren opened the back door visibly upset. “Why is he biting Holly?”

“He’s not biting me, Mommy. He’s just pulling me.”

Then I saw the reason why. “There’s a snake out here—looks like a copperhead. “Cinda,” I called, “Bring my short shovel and the hoe from the garage, will you please?” She was there less than twenty seconds later.

“Be careful, Ty.” I would be; I’d killed these snakes before. It rose up as if to strike as I approached. I feinted with the shovel in my left hand then took a vicious swing with the hoe in my right. The hoe severed the snake’s spine about four inches behind the head. It writhed around on the ground for almost a minute before it died.

“Don’t go near it,” I warned. “It can still bite and the poison is still deadly.” I picked up the head with the shovel and dumped it into their trash. Then I returned to the body and picked it up, carrying it also to the trash. I crouched when I reached Holly. “Looks like your arm is all covered with slobber, Holly.”

“That’s okay, Ty. I think Fred saved me.”

“That’s why he’s here—to protect all of us. Pretty good at his job, wouldn’t you say?” Holly just smiled as she hugged and kissed her pal.

When the school year ended I was again number one in our class with a 98.6 percent average. Cinda was number two at 97.8. Mr. Whittaker told the entire school how pleased he was to have her as a student at the annual awards assembly. What a hypocrite! Then he announced that he would retire at the end of the year. Cinda and I were pleased, but probably no more than most of the other students.

Cinda and I had been so busy last year that we’d never even thought about a honeymoon although every day with her was like a day in paradise. “How’d you like to go to Disney World? It could be a honeymoon for us. If we drive we could stop by in Louisiana so I can see my favorite mother-in-law and her no-good son.” Cinda howled; she knew I loved Monroe like a brother—probably better than most brothers.

“Oh, Ty do you mean it? Think we could stay with your grandma again?” I started to make some calls. First were Mom and Dad—arrangements for Fred–then Grandma and finally hotel reservations for a week at the Disney’s Animal Kingdom Lodge. We dropped Fred off with Mom and Dad on Friday afternoon and left on Saturday morning. Cinda and I were eighteen—almost nineteen now; we had a MasterCard and a Visa, but I still had Dan Shulman manage our financial affairs. He’d done very well in this area, suggesting a CPA who’d recommended a variety of mutual funds. I had insisted on no-load funds, preferring not to pay five percent commission—almost $500,000 on the bulk of my inheritance. That would have been ridiculous. One of those suggestions was a triple tax-free municipal bond fund that had earned more than five percent over the past year. Overall, my investments had earned 8.3 percent—roughly $800,000. Most of it had been reinvested; the proceeds from the tax-free fund replenished my bank account.

We always rose early, but the night before our trip we could hardly sleep—that’s how anxious and excited we were. We’d celebrate the first anniversary of our meeting tomorrow. What a wonderful year it had been. Driving now would be a lot easier, too; Cinda had passed her driving test in April. I often let her drive to and from school and on other short trips. I drove for two hours before pulling off to get breakfast then Cinda drove for an hour. We alternated throughout the day, making excellent time and covering more than 650 miles before stopping and staying at a Best Western for the night. Up early again we reached Grandma’s just after noon.

She greeted us with hugs and kisses. “Oh, it’s so good to see you. Dear God, was it a year ago that the two of you met each other? We have so much to talk about, but first Cinda I think you should go and see your mother. She’s been talking nonstop about your visit all week.” I unloaded the truck, moving our suitcases into our old room. We raced to the truck once we had kissed Grandma good-bye. Five minutes later we were in front of Cinda’s old house. If anything it looked worse than it had when we left. I had barely stopped the truck when Cinda was out the door. I expected her to run to the house, but she waited for me; we walked hand-in-hand to the door. Momma opened it before we had even climbed the steps. Cinda ran up to hug her Momma. I followed a few steps behind, hugging and kissing Momma, too.

We walked into the house together. Cinda hugged Monroe then he hugged me. “All-American–not too shabby; I saw that last basket on You Tube. That was incredible. How many points did you have in that game?”

“I don’t know. I don’t keep track of stuff like that.”

“Well, I do,” Cinda interjected. “Ty had 59, a new tournament record, and he had seventeen rebounds, too. He was playing against a seven-footer. It was the most incredible game I’ve ever seen and I saw all of Ty’s last year. The team was 32-0—undefeated, thanks to Ty.”

“I was only one member of the team. I know you understand that, Monroe, even if your sister doesn’t.” Cinda stuck her tongue out at me and we all had a good laugh. “I thought you had a great game against Auburn. Cinda and I were glued to the TV the entire game. She refused to get up even to pee. I thought she was going to ruin our couch.”

Even Cinda laughed at that although she did say, “I went at half-time, so there.” We all laughed again then we made arrangements for dinner. Momma told us it was lonely being here in the house by herself, but that Grandma had spent a lot of time with her comparing notes. “You should get a dog, Momma, like Fred.” Then we all listened while Cinda told at least two dozen stories about Fred including her episode with the plumber and how he had lunged at Mitch and how he had saved Holly from the copperhead. Finally, she told about Fred taking attendance every night, his cold nose on our cheeks. “The only down side is thunder. Fred gets terrified. Sometimes he’s actually shaking. I sit on the floor then and his head is in my lap. I never thought I could love a dog. Then I met Fred.” Cinda looked at me with the same loving expression I’d seen every day over the past year.

We piled into the truck around 5:30 and drove to pick up Grandma then it was up to Morgan City for dinner. As usual, we had an outstanding time, well worth the expense even though we were exhausted by the time I drove into Grandma’s driveway at 11:30.

The first thing that Grandma had asked Cinda at dinner was about her new school. She and Momma were thrilled by Cinda’s grades—and mine, too. Then Momma asked if she had made any friends.

“Yes, Momma I have five very good friends. My best friend goes steady with Ty’s best friend, Kenny. We do a lot of things together.”

“Are these girls white? Do you have any black friends?”

“Yes, and no—it’s interesting that my skin color has never been an issue with the white girls, but it is with the black girls just as it was here. I know a number of black students, but many of them are snobs, because their parents are professors or doctors. Mandy’s father is a very wealthy investment banker, but you’d never know it by her. I met her and Kenny the very first day I was there and they welcomed me like I was family. Of course, being married to the school heartthrob has made things easy for me.” Cinda grinned as I scowled. Monroe just laughed.

Most of the conversation throughout dinner was either about our experiences or about Monroe’s at LSU. I was surprised to learn how much time Grandma and Momma had spent together, but the more I thought about it the more I realized it was to be expected. They had so much in common.

We had kissed Grandma and retired to our room where we showered, together as always, and I waited for Cinda to finish with her hair. In a year of firsts for Cinda one of the highlights occurred when Mandy took Cinda for her first beauty salon appointment. Momma had always cut Cinda’s hair herself to save money. Cinda told me afterwards that is was the second most amazing thing she’d experienced, second only to making love with me. “It was wonderful having my hair washed and dried and then styled. I had a manicure and pedicure after that. Mandy was with me the whole time and all we did was laugh. Don’t you think I look great?” That was a no-brainer—I always thought she looked fantastic.

Cinda was just about to get into bed with me when I asked her if she was going to open her suitcase. “No, I’m already dressed for bed,” she commented as she pointed to her gorgeous naked body.

“Well, maybe you’ll need something in the middle of the night.”

“I’m sure I will, but what I’ll want is in the bed, not in my suitcase.” I gave her the same look she had given me so many times when I was exasperating. “Okay, I’ll open it just to satisfy you.” She did a double take first at me and then back into the pile of clothing. Sitting there on top of her neatly folded clothes was a square box wrapped in gold foil with a white satin bow. “I hate to tell you this, but the bow is squished flat.”

“Even you’d be flat if you were squeezed in there. Why don’t you open it? Happy anniversary; I met you exactly one year ago, probably the luckiest day of my life; I love you!”

A tear came to her eye as she exclaimed, “Oh, Ty—I didn’t buy you anything. I didn’t even realize until Grandma said something earlier.”

“That’s quite alright. I got my best present ever a year ago today. You’re a gift that keeps on giving.”

“But, Ty when did you buy this? We haven’t been apart in more than a month.”

“I had a little helper…Mom. Go ahead—open it.”

Cinda’s eyes were like saucers when she saw her gift. “Oh my God—I don’t believe it. Is it real?”

“I’ll shoot the jeweler if it isn’t. Cinda took the two carat diamond pendant out of the box and I helped her put it on. She was back into the bathroom to check it in the mirror. She turned off the light and proceeded to thank me for the first of three times before we rose for breakfast where she pushed her chest out for Grandma to notice.

“It really is lovely on you Cinda. Sorry, but I knew about it before you did. Martha told me about it last week. Be careful with it when you’re in Florida. It would be so easy for someone to pull it off your neck while you’re in a crowd.” Cinda nodded and helped Grandma with our food as I told her not to worry—it was insured.

We spent a wonderful week. I even played ball at the park several times. I was shocked when several younger kids asked for my autograph. It seemed that Monroe had been bragging about his brother-in-law. I obliged every request even though I thought the whole idea was silly. I was really nobody special.

We left very early the following Saturday morning, arriving at Disney World at six after driving for almost thirteen hours. We went up to our room on the third floor with our bags then ate a light dinner in one of the hotel’s restaurants. Back by 7:30 we sat on our balcony to watch the herd animals at the hotel’s pond. Cinda was fascinated. I thought it was pretty neat, too. We were in bed early, made love as usual, and were up early the following morning, taking the resort bus to Magic Kingdom. We spent the entire day and even stayed to watch the evening parade and fireworks. We returned the following day to finish what we’d missed the day before then taking the monorail to Epcot. Again, we stayed for the fireworks.

After two tiring days we tried Animal Kingdom. It’s a smaller park and the crowds were smaller, too. Cinda, especially, loved seeing the animals on the safari. I wondered if she would like a real safari in Africa. We finished Disney World the following day at Hollywood Studios. Then we took a day off, relaxing and hanging around the hotel pool.

We finished up with a trip to Sea World. It was a change we welcomed after four days of “make believe.” Too soon we had to leave. This time we took two days to drive to Louisiana. We decided en route to invite Momma and Monroe to visit us. We stayed two days just to rest, taking everyone out to dinner again our last night. Cinda retrieved a big bag from the truck bed once we had arrived at the restaurant. She distributed the gifts from Disney and Sea World with hugs and kisses. We left reasonably early—we expected to have an early start in the morning.

Cinda and I were in the shower when I stepped up behind her placing my arms around her waist while I nuzzled her neck. “My goodness, what is that big hard thing that’s sticking into my ass? Hmmm?”

“It’s my spear. I’m taking you captive. You have to do everything I tell you.”

“Yes, sir; please don’t hurt me. I’ll do whatever you say.” She raised her hands in mock surrender. “Please, sir…I’ll suck your cock.”

“Not tonight, darling; if you do that I won’t be able to take care of you and that would never do.” I turned her around to take her into my embrace. We kissed under the hot spray. Our lips were mashed together when I reached under her thighs to lift her legs to my shoulders while I pressed her against the tiled wall. Cinda reached down, feeling her way to my cock.

“Spear me, Ty.” I couldn’t help myself; I laughed like crazy, but I did as requested, spearing my delectable wife in her hot tight pussy. “I love you, Ty. You’re just wonderful, know that?”

“No, but I do enjoy hearing you say it. However, that comes in a very distant second right now to what you’re doing to me. No wonder I always want to make love with you.”

Cinda giggled then squeezed my cock with those powerful vaginal muscles. I moaned in response so she did it again and again. I drove into her as hard as I could for several minutes before reaching down between us to rub and pinch her clit. I could feel the tremors running through her body as she came explosively. That was all it took for me—my cock felt like a machine gun so rapidly did I spew ropes of semen into her precious vault. I could have stayed there for another ten minutes, but the water suddenly turned cold. I turned it off and carried my love out so I could dry her.

Grandma must have gotten out of bed at four. She had our breakfast ready for us at five, refusing our offers to clean up the dishes and kitchen. “Don’t be silly, Cinda—I have all day. It will probably take that long for the water to get hot.” I gulped in embarrassment, but Grandma just laughed. Five minutes later we were away.

It was mid-afternoon the following day when Cinda drove the truck into the farm. As happy as we were to be home, Fred was even happier. He licked Cinda’s hand as his tail wagged wildly. We visited with Mom and Dad for more than an hour, telling all about our trip and about Momma, Monroe, and Grandma. Mom invited us to dinner and we were glad to accept. We were both too tired to cook. Mom excused us shortly after dinner, but making us promise to come back again the following night by promising me pot roast—my second favorite after her fried chicken, what my bastard grandfather had referred to as “nigger food.” As much as I loved Grandma I didn’t miss him a bit. I was sure he was securely ensconced in the bowels of hell.

While we were there I asked if they would accompany us to Louisiana again later in the summer so I could visit LSU. I couldn’t begin to guess how many colleges had expressed an interest in me. Getting letters from coaches was exciting when I was in sixth grade, but by eighth it was tedious. I never paid too much attention, thinking I’d probably go to Indiana. Now with Cinda as my wife I had another idea. We agreed to go the first week in August. I’d phone Monroe so he could make the necessary arrangements.

We slept in the following day, getting out of bed primarily to pee and shower. We skipped breakfast, choosing instead to put Fred out into the back yard while enjoying some freshly squeezed orange juice using fruit we’d bought in Florida. We weren’t surprised to see Holly run into our yard. She loved to play with Fred. Cinda called her over to us, giving her a big trash bag with a bow on it. She almost fainted when she saw the huge Minnie Mouse doll inside. She loved Minnie.

Cinda and I had taken the PSAT and had done very well, a combined score of 226 for me and 200 for Cinda out of a possible 240. Having more than a month of the summer free we had decided to study for the SAT which was scheduled in November. We found it amazing that almost everyone in school was jealous of our grades, but barely anyone gave any thought to all the hours we worked to earn those successes. We agreed to study a minimum of three hours every morning leaving the afternoon and evening for social engagements, mostly with Kenny and Mandy.

CHAPTER 16

I had asked Mom and Dad to accompany us to Louisiana for my visit to LSU. Mom especially was thrilled—she’d get to see Grandma once we had visited the campus. We walked out of the plane to see Monroe waiting just outside the security area. Cinda introduced him to Dad and Mom and while we were talking we heard another voice, “Hi, Todd.”

Dad turned toward the voice. “Ty! I can’t believe it! What are you doing here?”

“I guess Ty failed to mention…I’m an assistant at LSU now. It would be a real feather in my cap to bring Ty on board.”

“Then I guess,” I replied, “you should show us the campus.” We stepped into a big van—big enough to handle all our bags in addition to the six of us. The driver took us directly to the Pete Maravich Assembly Center—the 13,000 seat arena where LSU plays its home games. I was really impressed to see “Welcome Ty” on the marquis. Coach Beamon took us on the tour, spending almost three hours trying to sell us on the university.

“I’m sure you realize, Coach that Cinda will be attending with me.”

“Yes, Ty–Monroe has told us. When he’s not bragging about you he’s bragging about her. I don’t know if we can get a full scholarship for her—that’s out of the Head Coach’s authority—but I assure you that we’ll do what we can. Can you work out for us?”

“Of course, I have my stuff in my bag.” Back to the van I retrieved my practice uniform—shirt, shorts, jock, socks and sneakers. “You must have a trainer who can tape my ankles.” Most of my teammates ignored this practice, but then they didn’t have a 44-inch vertical leap either. Coming down from that high was stressful on my feet and ankles even though my feet were exceedingly strong. I had done it to myself as a freshman and sophomore, but Cinda wanted to learn and I was pretty sure she felt it was her contribution to my success. Now I sat on the training table while Coach Beamon told me what to expect. He wanted me to play one-on-one with a guard from their team and later, two-on-two. “No problem,” I told him.

Ten minutes later I walked onto one of the two practice gyms. It was a regulation sized court with only minimal seating. Cinda, Monroe, and my parents sat and watched while I warmed up, shooting and dribbling with both hands. My opponent introduced himself and I knew immediately that he was the star of the team. I’d have to play my best to do well.

I had to hand it to him—he was an excellent player, but I beat him twice—15-11 and 15-6—by utilizing both hands equally well. I was able to block several of his shots so effectively that he had to resort to other less effective tricks. We might have been equals offensively, but my defense won the day. He clapped me on the back when we were done.

“Well done, Ty; you just beat our best player. Let’s try two-on-two now.” I met the other players on the court. I was paired with a forward who was about 6’7” and solidly built against my prior opponent and another big man. We used basic strategy—pick and roll and give and go very successfully. These are probably the oldest plays in basketball and they’re still used effectively today. We won both games—15-12 and 15-9. I scored and passed well, but the highlight of both games was my defense. Coach Beamon was extremely pleased then I met the head coach who had watched everything from an office window. I was offered a scholarship on the spot. I told them that I accepted. This was something Cinda and I had discussed for hours. She wanted me to be happy and I wanted the same for her. I realized that college in Baton Rouge, less than a hundred miles from her home would be perfect.

School started before we knew it—we were seniors at last! We had a new principal named James Henderson. He looked to be in his mid thirties and was very dynamic, something dear old Harold hadn’t been for more than thirty years according to Dan who had known him for even longer. We were quite surprised one morning when he asked to see us. After welcoming us to his office and offering us seats he began what appeared to be informal remarks although I was certain he’d practiced at some length. “At first I thought you might be twins; imagine my surprise to learn you were married. May I ask how you met? I detect a southern accent, don’t I, Cinda?”

She began our saga, one that was well known to our friends and when she was done I chimed in, “And now you know, sir that I needed to be defended by a 100-pound woman.”

Cinda laughed and so did he. “From what I’m told that’s anything but true. You’re a legend here—outstanding athlete and outstanding student. That’s pretty incredible.” He shook our hands again and we left with much better feelings than the last time we were in the principal’s office.

We took the SAT’s in early November and our weeks of toil and study paid off handsomely. Cinda earned a 2300 and I had a 2360 out of a perfect 2400. We were overjoyed. There was nothing to be gained by taking it again. Our scores would qualify us for any university in the world.

Our basketball team was looking stronger than ever. Kenny and Mark were now three-year starters and this was my fourth. We had lost Jason, a good guard, and Jon, a small forward, but we had picked up four starters from last year’s 24-4 junior varsity. Even better, one of those players was 6’6” and another was my height—6’4”.

I had called time-out three minutes into our first game. They threw a junk defense, one designed to double and even triple team me whenever I moved inside the foul line. I could have probably shot all day from the three-point line, but I planned to drive to the basket whenever possible. My teammates had to be ready to move to the basket and receive the passes I would deliver for layups. They “held” me to 34, but I had seventeen assists, a school record. We won 89-54. The new kids played the entire fourth quarter.

The remaining games before Christmas were carbon copies—some crazy defense specially designed for me, plenty of assists, many of my baskets coming off fast breaks or offensive rebounds—as we won by an average of 28 points. I felt a bit of trepidation when I walked onto St. Ann’s court two days after Christmas for the final of their Holiday Tournament. They, too, tried a special defense—a triangle and two with the two shadowing me all over the court. Unfortunately, I was taller and able to jump much higher than the players guarding me.

I passed the ball to Mark as soon as I crossed the mid-court line then brushed one of my defenders off a pick by Kenny. Mark delivered the ball right on time as I reached the apex of my jump. I rammed it home with a thunderous dunk that appeared to shake the entire gym. Our fans went wild; theirs groaned. It was a sign of things to come. They missed their shot and Kenny rebounded, passing out to Mark who caught me mid-stride at the mid-court line. Two dribbles and I slowed down so I’d be fouled as I dunked again. We ran the score to 17-5 and then to 28-9. At halftime it was 47-16. I rested the entire second half. I “only” scored 27, but that was more than enough. It looked like we’d run the table again. Then I got the phone call.

It was Saturday afternoon, the first weekend in January, when Momma phoned. I often spoke with her, but it was Cinda she usually wanted to talk with. Not today—she was serious when I heard her speak. “There’s no easy way to say this, Ty. Your grandma passed away last night. She was supposed to pick me up for some shopping up in Morgan City. I called when she was an hour late then drove over there with the Sheriff. His men were able to get into the house. We found her in bed, a peaceful look on her face. She had a weak heart, Ty. She hid it well, but she told me several times over the past year that she felt she was on borrowed time. I’m so sorry. Can you call your mother or would you like me to do it?”

“I’ll make the call, Momma. I guess we’ll see you soon. Bye.” Cinda sat next to me, her hand in mine. “It’s Grandma, Cinda…she’s gone.” I broke down and cried terribly into Cinda’s shoulder as she held and caressed my head. Slowly between gasps I explained what Momma had said. “I said I’d call Mom, but I think I should go. Will you drive? I don’t think I can just now.” Cinda put Fred out. Somehow he knew once again that something was wrong. I hugged him then we were out the door for the fifteen minute ride to the farm.

Cinda led the way luckily. I could barely see through the tears which only got worse when Mom came to the door. “It’s Grandma,” Cinda explained. “Momma just phoned.” She went on to explain the conversation.

Mom came to me to hug me. “As evil as your grandfather was, Ty that’s how good your grandmother was. She’ll be missed.”

“I know, Mom. I already miss her.” We went in and sat while Dad called the Sheriff’s office and then the mortuary where Grandma’s body was taken. The call was only ended for about five minutes when it rang. Cinda answered once she saw it was Pastor Robbins. He offered to coordinate everything until we could get to Louisiana. Dad made flight arrangements for Wednesday morning after my game on Tuesday afternoon. I’d miss Friday’s game. Suddenly, it meant nothing to me. I slept poorly that night. Thank God I had Cinda with me. She helped me in the shower and later she dried me and put me to bed where she comforted me with her body. She slept on her back, pulling my head to her breast. I suckled for more than an hour until I fell asleep at last.

We met Kenny and Mandy outside church as usual. They could tell immediately that something was terribly wrong. “I need a favor, Kenny.”

“Anything…what’s wrong?”

“Ty’s grandma passed away, Kenny. She was a wonderful woman, just the opposite of his grandfather. We stayed there together before we were married and after, too. She did so much for the poor, too.”

“When are you going?”

“Wednesday morning; I’ll be back Sunday afternoon. I have to miss Friday’s game.”

“That’s not important. Your family comes first.” Kenny and Mandy hugged me and we went in to church. It was one of the rare times I couldn’t wait for it to end. Kenny volunteered to take care of Fred. He’d pick him up after Tuesday afternoon’s game. Cinda and I went home, ate a light lunch and I sat quietly on the couch. Fred came over to rest his head on my leg, his soulful brown eyes locked onto mine. I was in a real funk when Cinda came in from the kitchen.

“Come on, Ty. Come with me.” She extended her hand and kept it there when I didn’t respond. Leaning forward, she pulled on my arm, lifting me from the couch. “Didn’t think I was so strong, did you?

I smiled for the first time in more than a day. “I’ve always known you were strong.” She led me down the hallway. “Where are we going?”

“I know what you need, Ty and I expect no arguments from you.”

“But….”

“I said ‘no arguments.’ Come with me.” She stopped by the bed to remove her clothes then she turned to face me. My sweatshirt was pulled quickly up and off. My jeans went the other way. In seconds I was naked and surprised to see my fully erect cock. “See,” she said, “I know exactly what you need. Lie down. Don’t make me force you.” She began to giggle and even I had to laugh, but I didn’t argue. I knew she was right. I needed to move on and this would be the first step. I lay down, moving to the center, my arms up to welcome my love.

“Thank God I have you, Cinda. I don’t know if I could get through this without you.”

“I think you would, Ty. You’re a very strong person. Now….” She never finished that sentence; her mouth covered mine with a long passionate and wet kiss. It seemed to last forever and when she broke it my rock hard cock was buried within her. “I know you’re hurting terribly, Ty. This is why I’m here. I’m here to help you. We’ll get through this together. I know it will be hard, but together we’ll manage.” She leaned down to kiss me as she rode my cock for almost ten minutes. I was suffering, but I learned that I still had biological needs. I blew into Cinda, coating her sensitive vaginal walls with my seed. She relaxed on my chest when I was done. “I love you, Ty. You’ve helped me so much. Now it’s my turn to help you.” She kissed me then closed my eyes with her hand and we found peace; the chance for a quick nap.

Cinda and I walked into the main office first thing Monday morning. I didn’t say anything. I just handed the note to Mrs. Roscoe. She read it quickly before saying, “Oh, I’m so sorry, Ty. When will you be back from Louisiana?”

“We should be back by Sunday so Cinda and I will be back in school next Monday.” There were other kids in the office so by third period everyone knew that my grandmother had passed away. Almost everyone was sympathetic. Coach told me that Friday’s game was meaningless. We’d run through the League Tournament with or without the win. Then he prepared us for Tuesday’s opponent.

We’d had some difficulty with this team and their fans in the past, but today was the worst. No sooner had I walked onto the court than several of their fans began chanting, “Grandma…Grandma.” I was livid. I knew how to make them pay.

We were walking out to the opening tip when I called my teammates together. “Listen, guys—get me the ball and get out of my fucking way.”

One of the new starters began to object, but Kenny stifled that in a second. “You can call the shots when you make All-America. Until then, shut up and do what you’re told.” I almost always handled the jump ball—I could jump much higher than anyone else on the team. It was almost funny watching me out jump players who were four to five inches taller. I tipped the ball to Kenny who passed it back to me a few seconds later. I dribbled up court, unsurprised when two guards tried to stop me. I dribbled right, spun around back to my left and through the double-team to the basket. A quick leap led to a dunk and a foul on their too-slow big man.

I was on fire. I couldn’t miss, but I took care of my teammates, too. We led 31-17 at the quarter; I had 21 points on eight for nine shooting, four foul shots, and seven rebounds. I was just getting started. We led at the half 63-36. I had 46 points and 16 rebounds. Coach wanted to take me out, but I refused. “I owe those assholes, Coach. They disrespected my grandmother and they’re going to pay.”

Sometimes a player might have a good half, but lose it when play began again—not so today for me. I couldn’t miss and I didn’t. I began to take long three pointers to conserve energy. I had 78 of our 97 at the end of the quarter. The game was over, but I wasn’t. “Time to shift into overdrive,” I told Kenny. He shook his head in disbelief.

I had noticed that some of their passes were careless, the kind one might make in practice when the defenders aren’t trying to get in the way of the offense. I picked off their first pass, took one dribble over half-court and fired a long jumper—three points. I stole the ball seemingly at will, scoring on seven straight three-pointers, most from almost half court. I had outscored them 21-0 over three minutes. They managed to get a hurried shot off, but missed and I grabbed my twenty-ninth rebound. I dribbled quickly into the front court, going behind my back when a defender cut in front of me. I took my time advancing the ball until I was at the foul line. I pump faked and jumped straight up for the shot as my opponent landed on my back.

“I’d like a time-out after the second, please,” I told the ref when he handed me the ball for my first foul shot.

“Sure, Ty the way you’re going tonight I think you could make them blindfolded.” I took the first right-handed and the second lefty.

Time out was called and I walked to the bench, passing their fans on the way. “You’ll think twice before insulting my grandmother again.” I sat on the bench telling Coach, “You can take me out now.”

“Gee, thanks,” he said sarcastically, but patted me on the back. Once it was clear I was done for the day the public address announcer stated for all to hear, “Ty Feldner scored 101 points, a new school and modern-day state record and pulled down twenty-nine rebounds.” I knew the state record was 113 set way back around the beginning of the twentieth century in a game that was 156-10, or something like that. I could have set a new one, but I’d sent the message. That was enough.

The gym, filled to the brim like most of our games, erupted chanting “Ty…Ty…Ty.” I turned back to find Cinda cheering the loudest. I was drained–more emotionally than physically–when the game ended with the score 126-76. Kenny hugged me first; “Incredible, Ty…just unbelievable.” Then Cinda reached me. I never thought she could—the crowd on the floor was packed shoulder to shoulder.

“Oh, Ty I wanted to kill those kids when they taunted you, but I think your solution was better.” She hugged me tightly until I left for the team handshake.
Once again, their coach was last in line. “Ty, I wanted to throttle those kids when I heard them. I’ll report them to the principal first thing tomorrow morning. Their behavior was despicable. I’m sorry to learn of your grandmother. You’ll be in my prayers. I also thought your performance was unbelievable. How many shots did you miss? Not many, unfortunately.”

“Thanks for the sentiments, Coach. I never keep track of personal statistics. The only thing that matters was that we won.”

“Spoken like the true champion you are.” He shook my hand again and I walked back to Cinda. We spoke for a few minutes before I disappeared into the locker room for my shower. Once done, I was interviewed by one of our local TV stations for almost five minutes. That happened after almost every game. Kenny followed me home then took Fred with him, Fred’s food, bowls, bed, and leash in the trunk. Cinda and I had a quick and quiet dinner. Afterwards we went to bed. I was exhausted, but Cinda brought me back to life. She led me in for a second shower. She ran her soapy hands up and down my body as she kissed me repeatedly. Finally, she took me out and dried me carefully. Then she led me to bed.

My mind and my muscles were tired, but my cock was neither. It stood up from my body like a flagpole. Cinda covered my body with hers then licked her way down my chest to my abdomen where she began by kissing the tip of my cock. “I haven’t yet figured out why this part is so soft and spongy when the rest is so hard. I’m sure there’s some biological reason, but I don’t care. I just know how much I love it. I love popping it in and out of my mouth.”

“I think I already knew that,” I replied with a chuckle as Cinda swallowed me whole. Up and down her head moved and she sucked me toward oblivion. Her tongue tickled my shaft, but not for long. My need for Cinda knew no boundaries. Now, especially, with the stress I’d been experiencing I needed her more than ever. She sucked me mightily, her lips wrapped tightly around my helmet, and I blew, flooding her mouth with my slick ejaculate. She sucked me dry then cleaned my cock lovingly. Typically, she asked nothing for herself. I pulled her up to me, kissed her quickly as she placed her head on my shoulder. Dear God, I wondered for probably the millionth time, what did I ever do to deserve the love of such a woman?

CHAPTER 17

We rose even earlier than was our custom for the trip to the airport. We left after breakfast for the forty minute ride. Neither of us had ever flown so I was surprised to learn that Dad had reserved business class for us. Four hours later we were in Baton Rouge where Monroe awaited us. He hugged and kissed Cinda then hugged me. “I’m so sorry, Ty. Your grandma was a wonderful woman. I don’t know anyone who didn’t like her.” I thanked him and we walked into the baggage claim area for our bag. Thirty minutes later Monroe drove us to Grandma’s house. Mom, Dad, and Momma were already there.

It was kind of eerie sitting there in her living room without her. I half expected her to walk out of the kitchen at any moment to offer us Cokes and cookies. Monroe turned on the TV, finding ESPN to ease our boredom. We watched the sports news for more than a half hour. Most of it dealt with pro or college basketball or hockey. Then I was shocked to see my face on the screen.

“Ty! That’s you!” Cinda was so excited. I was shown rebounding and taking several long three-pointers before dribbling up court, making the pump fake and stepping to the foul line. The commentator described how I had scored 101 on 37 of 41 from the floor, including thirteen three-pointers and fourteen free throws without a miss. “Senior Ty Feldner has committed to LSU,” was his final comment.

“I was going to ask about the game, Ty, but I see you drew a lot of attention in our absence.”

“A bunch of guys from their school insulted Grandma, Dad,” Cinda explained. She went on to explain what they had done and how several of our fans were going to beat the stuffing out of them until they saw Mr. Henderson nearby. “Then, after the game, it was no longer necessary.”

“Weren’t you going to tell us, Ty?” It was Mom speaking.

“No, Mom,” I said with a chuckle. “What has Dad told me probably a hundred times?”

Mom and Cinda replied simultaneously, “Self praise stinks.” Ordinarily the room would have been filled with laughter, but not today. Cinda and I excused ourselves so we could change out of our clothes—my good gray suit and Cinda’s navy blue dress. We emerged ten minutes later in golf shirts, shorts, and sandals. We went to a seafood buffet for dinner. I couldn’t believe how many of those crawfish Monroe could eat.

I wasn’t surprised when Cinda offered me one. “Don’t you trust me,” she asked. I closed my eyes and opened my mouth. She squeezed the tail and the meat fell into my mouth. All I could taste was the hot sauce. The crawfish’s tail was more chewy than tasty. Cinda smiled, kissed my cheek, and whispered, “You don’t have to eat any more. I know they’re not for everyone. Thank you for trusting me.”

We were back at Grandma’s house by nine and it took a special effort not to look for her coming out of the kitchen as she had so frequently when Cinda and I had lived there with her. We excused ourselves to our room. “I remember this shower, Ty. We had some wonderful times here, didn’t we?” My only response was to give my wonderful wife a big kiss. We washed each other as had become our habit—running our hands frothy with soap over each other’s skin, I loved to run my hand between her glorious butt cheeks; she always had fun washing and stroking my cock and rubbing my balls until I was hard as a rock. Then she always enjoyed making it soft. Tonight was no exception.

Cinda rolled on top of me, pushing those beautiful firm and smooth breasts into my chest. Rubbing her nipples into my hair, round and round in circles on my chest always made her hot—that’s what she’d told me any number of times. Cinda rubbed her slit over my cock—oh dear God, what a feeling! When she moved forward just a bit I slid slowly into her tight sweet vault. My hands found the globes on her ass—her smooth muscular butt. Hell, her entire body was one smooth muscular part after another!

She slid down my pole in five short thrusts until was seated deep within her core. We moved together at what we recognized now as our pace. Starting slowly meant our pleasure would be prolonged. Moving at this pace meant that we’d get hotter and hotter for each other until, in time, we could take no more. Then we’d go at it like rabbits until nature took its course. We came together, exploding in mutually exhausting orgasms. We always slept well afterwards, even me who had never slept well until I met and fell in love with Cinda.

We met with Grandma’s attorney the following morning. Personally, I would have preferred to skip it. I knew my Grandma was dead; I didn’t need another reminder. I held Cinda’s hand tightly as Mr. Cardwell took his seat at the head of the table. He made Grandma look like a kid.

“I won’t bother to read the entire will,” he began. “Most of it is just legal mumbo jumbo that helps attorneys justify the huge fees we charge.”

“Like you?”

“You must be Ty. Your grandmother told me you’d say that. I saw you on ESPN—quite the accomplishment.”

“I thought it was lousy basketball,” I replied. “Basketball is the quintessential team game.”

“Yes…uh, well I suppose we should just move on. I’ll deal with the smaller bequests first. Let’s see…okay, here we are. ‘I bequeath to my good friend Joanna Oates the sum of $500,000.’” I thought Momma would faint. “’To my favorite granddaughter-in-law, Lucinda Marie Oates Feldner, I bequeath the sum of $1,000,000 in the hope that she will spend it frivolously. To the Church of the Good Shepherd I bequeath the sum of $5,000,000, knowing that my good friend Ralph Robbins will use it well for the congregation.’” I looked over at Rev. Robbins; he had a tear in his eye. “Now to the two major heirs—Ty, your grandmother bequeathed you a trust of $40,000,000. You will receive $10,000 each month until your twenty-fifth birthday when the trust expires and the money is completely yours. The trust is a means of avoiding the estate tax. Why the federal government would create a tax that any lawyer with half a brain can overcome is something I’ll never understand. Martha the remainder of the estate which I estimate at $50,000,000 goes to you, also in a trust with the total becoming available to you at age fifty. You will receive $25,000 every month. Any questions?”

“Yes, I do. Who manages the trust and how much does he get?”

“Your grandmother warned me about you, Ty—very good questions. I will manage both trusts until I die then my associate Sam Davis will take over, and yes, Ty—he’s a lot younger than I am. The firm will receive $125,000 annually for your trust and $200,000 for your mother’s. We will hire a financial advisor your grandmother has approved to manage the actual investments. He’s from Baton Rouge. I’ll provide you with all the necessary details in due time. I’d like to add that Emma was a very old friend. I knew this day was coming, but I prayed it would be well in the future.”

He shook our hands and we left, back to what I still thought of as Grandma’s house although it now belonged to my mom. We changed into our dress clothes, went out for lunch, and arrived at the funeral home by two for the first session of the wake. Rev. Robbins took Cinda and me aside before we entered. “You’ll see your grandmother’s body in the coffin. It can be a bit overwhelming, especially the first time. Remember that it’s only her shell. She was much more than her physical being. Try to remember that when you go inside.” I nodded my acceptance and walked in, still totally unprepared for the whole thing.

Cinda and I knelt at the casket. Grandma looked peaceful, but artificial—the makeup, I guessed, couldn’t quite cover the sallow skin unless it was very thick. Cinda’s hand on my arm helped to steady me as I rose from my prayers. We sat in the front row with Mom, Dad, and Momma. Rev. Robbins stood nearby to introduce us to all of Grandma’s friends and acquaintances. It was one of the longest times I’d ever experienced. We left at five going straight to a nearby restaurant. I couldn’t believe that we’d have to endure the same stress again tonight and tomorrow, too. That night I was amazed that so many of the guys from the park came to express their condolences. Monroe also came early that evening, sitting next to me in support.

The next day, Friday, was more of the same. I couldn’t believe that Grandma knew so many people then Rev. Robbins told me that many of them were poor people from his church—people who had been helped over more than thirty years by Grandma, and always behind Grandpa’s back. I realized then how much courage Grandma had. Plenty of people talk a good game, but she actually carried through many times and at great peril to herself. I was sure Grandpa would have killed her if he had found out.

Saturday finally arrived—the day I dreaded more than any other—the day of Grandma’s funeral. The high school gym had been rented; it was the only place that could hold the crowd. The bleachers were filled as were almost all of the hundreds of seats that had been placed on the gym floor. Rev. Robbins walked in behind the now closed casket. Mom and Dad followed him; Cinda and I followed with Momma and Monroe last. We sat in the front row as Rev. Robbins walked to the podium. He read some scripture mostly dealing with eternal life after death. He finished by reading the 23rd Psalm. Finally, he called me to the podium to speak about my relationship with Grandma.

“I’ve played ball in front of thousands of screaming fans, but I’ve never been as nervous as I am now. I think that many of you know that I never met Grandma until I was seventeen. I thought my parents were getting divorced, but it turned out that my grandfather was a controlling bastard. I learned later from my parents that I actually came here to protect my mother from him. I guess I did a pretty good job. I’ve never regretted my part in my grandfather’s death, but I’d do anything to bring my grandmother back. I learned from Rev. Robbins that she was the bravest, most courageous person I’ve ever known. She helped people in the community knowing that her husband would likely kill her if he ever found out. I only hope that I can live up to the high standard she has set.” I dried my eyes and returned to Cinda’s side. She hugged me, kissed my cheek, and squeezed my hand. I prayed she’d never let me go.

The interment was private—for family only. I learned then that many of the graves in the area were above ground due to the low elevation—we were less than ten feet above sea level– and high water table. The limousine pulled to a stop next to a large marble crypt with the name “Walker” carved into the stone. “Your grandfather had this built for himself, Ty,” Rev. Robbins mentioned quietly. “I guess he never thought he’d run into someone like you.”

“Yeah, this looks like it’s much too good for him, but it’s not nearly good enough for Grandma.” Cinda’s arms around me held me up. I needed her support more now than ever. Thank God the ceremony was brief. We returned to the house where Cinda and I were able to change into more comfortable clothes while we met with many of Grandma’s friends who stopped by. There was food and drink aplenty as we began to move on with our lives.

Monroe drove us up to Baton Rouge and the airport Sunday around noon. Soon we were back home; I drove straight to Kenny’s house. Fred was thrilled to see us, licking our hands and wagging his tail as Kenny told us about Friday’s game. “Bottom line—we lost, but I think it was a good experience for us. Most of us rely on you too much. We played hard and well, but we lost it at the end by three.” I was actually pleased; I knew we’d murder them if we met in the league tournament.

We were back in the house with all of Fred’s stuff and were relaxing for the first time in more than a week when Cinda spoke, “I was shocked that Grandma left me money. I have no idea what to do with it.”

“I’d like to suggest you keep it in your own account. You read what Grandma told you—spend it frivolously. Buy expensive clothes or shoes or whatever. If there’s one thing I know–you deserve the best.”

“You know, Ty I grew up poor so I can’t really conceive of so much money. I’d buy maybe two or three outfits a year and they’d have to last. Shoes? Some of mine are five years old. I just don’t know if I can spend so carelessly.”

“I know how you are; you’re thrifty, but keep in mind that we now have more than fifty million dollars. That’s much more than anyone needs. I’m inclined to give most of it away to charity. We’ll keep enough to take care of you and our children if something was to happen to me, but the rest we’ll donate to charity.”

“Gee, Ty I never gave any thought to having a family.”

“I think it’s a long way off—after we finish college. That has to come first.” Cinda agreed with a familiar twinkle in her eye. I put Fred out then joined her in our bedroom. We showered together before falling into bed to make the most passionate love together. We fell asleep eagerly looking forward to going to school again. I had survived the ordeal. Cinda was right; we’d done it together.

The alarm woke us, but I needed to take a minute. “Thank you, Cinda. Thank you for everything. I love you.”

“I love you, too–but you don’t have to thank me, Ty. You would have done the same for me. Isn’t that what being married is all about—supporting and helping each other? You’ve helped me plenty of times. All I did was return the favor. Enough talking; kiss me and let’s get up. We need to get to school.” We hustled into the shower, my hands on her butt as she giggled all the way. We walked into school an hour later. It was great to be back.

We won Tuesday’s game easily and went on a winning streak that ended only when the season had ended with another state championship. We hosted a party for the team the following Saturday night. Of course, there were a few fellow students who tried to crash the party, but Kenny and I were able to convince them otherwise. It was a great time either in spite of or because of the lack of alcohol. Cinda and I had finished the cleanup and were in the shower when I had a sense of déjà vu. “I know something you don’t.” Cinda told me as I soaped up her butt crack.

“Oh…you mean about Kenny and Mandy getting engaged?”

She gave me a look of amazement. “How? I know Kenny didn’t say anything. Mandy swore me to secrecy.”

“I don’t have to be Sherlock Holmes to figure it out. Kenny isn’t college bound. His dad owns a very successful custom woodworking business and it’s always been his wish to join his dad once he graduates. He and Mandy are great together so I simply added two and two….”

“And got four—really, Ty you are amazing. Now let’s go to bed so I can feel just how amazing you can really be.” A minute later I found myself kneeling between her legs as she rubbed my hard cock into her slit while I bent forward to lick, suck, and nibble her swollen nipple.

Cinda pulled on my cock, telling me, “Now, Ty—please give it to me now!” I pushed and slowly entered Cinda’s body. I was never able to drive into her in a single thrust. She was just so tight; of course, I loved it just as I loved her. Five thrusts later I was seated deeply within her slender body. Cinda’s face showed her rapture then it showed how hard she was working. She rotated her hips to bend my organ and create the friction we’d both need to complete our journey. With Cinda, getting there was at least half the fun.

We moved together for almost ten minutes when I noticed tiny changes in Cinda’s body—tremors running the length of her body, changes in her breathing, in how she gripped my body, in her loss of coordination until all three came together in a massive convulsion that shook her like a rag doll. There would have been a loud scream—loud enough that our neighbors would have called the police—had I not covered her mouth with mine. The highlight of this for me occurred when her cunt gripped me so tightly that I had no alternative—I came in a mammoth torrent that drowned her poor pussy in my cream. Moving very slowly I slid off Cinda to lie next to her until she moved into our sleeping position with her head on my shoulder, her crotch pressing into my thigh and leaking my seed badly.

“Ty,” she whispered, “ever think about doing it in my ass?”

“No, but the idea has a certain appeal. You know how much I love your ass.”

“I think I’ll have to do some research on the net. Jennifer told me how much she loves it.”

“You’re kidding; when did she tell you that–tonight…at the party?”

“Yeah, she said she gets great orgasms, but doesn’t have to worry about getting pregnant. In fact, she told me she’s still a virgin.”

I had to laugh. “You’ve got to be kidding—she takes it in the ass, but she’s still a virgin. That’s incredible.” I kissed my wife’s head and closed my eyes. Fred dutifully stuck his nose into Cinda’s neck then came around so I could pet him. The three of us were asleep seconds later.

Nobody was at all surprised three weeks later when I was again named Indiana’s Mr. Basketball. Two weeks after that I was named the AP’s player of the year and then earned the same honor from Parade Magazine. I turned down the opportunity to play in the McDonald’s game as I did last year. I’d had another outstanding year averaging 34.4 points, 12.5 assists, and 15.1 rebounds a game. I also had excellent figures for steals and blocks. I was the first player in state history to score more than 3500 points in my career.

Cinda and I flew back to Baton Rouge during our Easter break to find a house. We wanted to rent, but could buy if necessary. Grandma’s will had cleared probate. Cinda had received a certified check for a million dollars and my $10,000 a month had begun earlier that month. Coach Beamon referred us to a local realtor who was a huge LSU booster. We didn’t care for any of the rentals—they were either run-down or in what we considered a bad neighborhood. Several were on busy streets. Truthfully, we didn’t want to be in a “student area” where we’d have drinking and a lot of noise. We decided then to buy. We found a nice foreclosure with three bedrooms and two full baths on a quiet cul-de-sac. The house was two years old, but had never been occupied. We got a good deal and arranged for carpeting and a fence to be installed before moving in over the summer. The realtor said she’d monitor both for us.

My final surprise came at the annual awards program. Cinda and I went to dinner with Mom and Dad before driving to school. We told them of our plans for my inheritance before dinner. “I plan to give away at least a million every year once I’m twenty-five. By then I’m sure I’ll have at least fifty-five million. Who needs that much money?”

“I’m not surprised Ty, not even a little,” Mom commented, “and you owe me a trip to Hawaii, Todd. Your dad and I had a little bet and I just won.” We were seated together in the eighth row when Mr. Henderson opened the program. First on the agenda were the letters and other awards for each of the sports. I received my letterman’s sweater with the thought that I’d probably never wear it in Baton Rouge. Next were the most valuable player trophies. I already had two so I wasn’t surprised to receive my third. “Might as well stick around, Ty,” Mr. Henderson announced. Now I was surprised as an easel with something big and covered with a black cloth was brought out onto the front of the stage.

“Ty, you’ve set so many records and were the major force in bringing the school two state championships, the only ones in our brief history. The Board of Education has voted unanimously to retire your number.” The drape was lifted from the easel to reveal my jersey–number 24 with my name in bold red letters–mounted and framed along with all the records and honors printed below. There were three game photos on each side. It was a totally unexpected honor. I stood there red-faced in front of the SRO crowd that gave me a standing ovation. I was pulled to the podium where I thanked my teammates and coaches, and mostly Cinda and my parents for their undying support. I shook Mr. Henderson’s hand again and returned to my seat where Cinda embarrassed me further by kissing me deeply in front of everyone present. The final awards were for Valedictorian and Salutatorian. Both recipients were named Feldner. I beat Cinda by less than a single percentage point—98.7 to 97.9. I could see Mom and Dad beaming.

Cinda and I had done nothing but study for the past month and we’d continue until the end of school. Advanced Placement courses can result in college credit, but to get it a student would have to do well on the annual exams. Exam papers were graded from zero to five; only the two highest—four or five—would earn college credit. I’d never received anything lower than five. Cinda had some fours before we were married, but only fives thereafter. Each of us had enough credits for almost an entire academic year.

Finally, after hundreds of hours of study, it was time for graduation. I had tried for weeks to learn what Cinda was going to speak about. However, she refused to give even the slightest hint. “You’ll have to wait just like everyone else,” she commented with more than a giggle. We were seated in the gymnasium, the graduates in folding chairs and the guests in the bleachers. Mom and Dad along with Momma and Monroe had choice seats thanks to our accomplishments.

Mr. Henderson had just finished his introductory remarks when Cinda was called to the podium for her speech. “I believe that life is a journey, one that is shaped by the decisions we make. It was almost two years ago that I made a momentous and difficult decision that has changed my life’s journey forever. I was at our local park in Louisiana watching my brother and his friends playing basketball when this white boy with hair like straw came to play. I’m sorry to tell you that my friends assaulted him with racial jibes and insults. I had a choice then to join in, ignore, or step forward against the others—against my friends–for what was right. That was the choice I made. It was a decision that has changed my life completely, leading first to friendship and later to love and marriage to the smartest, most amazing straw-headed young man.” Then she told about the consequences—how we studied together, got to know each other, and fell in love. Then she told how our marriage had brought her to Indiana and made her a better, more complete person. She finished by telling how much she looked forward to our future together. How all of us—all our classmates—had so much to look forward to provided we had the courage to make the difficult decisions life would present to us.

I began my speech by comparing life to basketball. I told how there was little real luck in either, rather that luck was usually the result of hard work more than anything else. “It’s amazing how the luckiest people are also the hardest workers.” I also spoke about our marriage and how, as partners, we had made each other stronger through our refusal to accept anything but the best from each other. I finished jokingly, “I want to thank my wife for rescuing this straw-headed kid that afternoon down in Louisiana. She’s saved me physically, spiritually, and emotionally any number of times—when I was shot by my grandfather and punched at St. Ann’s being the most obvious. She’s been the steadiest and most positive influence in my life every single day since then.” I returned to my seat, hugged Cinda then, hand in hand, we received our diplomas. We hugged, kissed each other briefly, and applauded as our classmates received theirs.

We hung out for a few weeks, mostly to pack up our belongings for the movers. Our house in Baton Rouge was ready. The realtor had emailed us photos of the carpets and the fence in the back yard. Cinda and I had taken Fred to the vet for his annual shots and we had listened carefully while he explained the problems of having a pet in the south. Mostly, we had to be concerned with fleas that would be present all year long. He suggested some pesticide sprays we could use in our yard and house and some medications we could use on Fred. Finally, he recommended a vet from Baton Rouge, one who had graduated with him.

We finished our packing a few days early so I phoned Kenny to ask if he wanted a day at the lake. He agreed eagerly. Cinda and Fred were in the back seat when I picked up Kenny and Mandy. The first thing I noticed was the ring on Mandy’s finger. “About time you went public, isn’t it?”

“Yeah…I guess, but the main reason is we want to ask you something before you move away. Would you be my best man?”

“Cinda,” Mandy asked from her seat next to Cinda, “would you be matron of honor? Although I have kind of a hard time seeing you as matronly.”

“We agree,” Cinda said for both of us. She and Mandy spent the rest of the trip and most of the day discussing the wedding plans. We swam and played with Fred until the sun had almost set. Then we left, driving home where we said good-bye to Kenny and Mandy with hugs and kisses, inviting them to visit us in our new home.

The movers came two days later, emptying our small house in only a few hours. We went then to stay with my parents until the weekend. We had a good time with them although our sexual escapades were somewhat subdued due to their presence. I noted with a grin that they had never rented their new apartment over the barn.

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.

NOTE: I will begin to post the further adventures of Ty and Cinda in Baton Rouge and at LSU within the next week. I hope you enjoy the rest of the story.

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