Coulson's Crucible

by Anna J. McIntyre

  “You know what I mean. So we can do it.”

  Sheryl was just fifteen, and Garret hadn’t been her first. But the girl loved to screw and he was more than willing to accommodate. She wasn’t his girlfriend, but she was always eager to get together at the last minute for some beer and sex. A petite little thing, she was not quite five feet three inches tall, with tiny breasts that could barely fill out an A-cup. A bottle blonde, she wore her thin hair long and her skirts short. He wouldn’t call her pretty, but that didn’t seem to matter in the dark.

  The one thing Sheryl insisted on was that he wore a condom. He had no problem with that and no shortage of condoms. When he first hit puberty, his grandfather had called him in the library for a private talk.

  “Do you like girls?” his grandfather had asked.

  “Sure, yeah, I guess,” Garret had responded.

  “Do you want to see them naked? Do you think about touching their breasts?”

  “Grandfather, please…” the question surprised and embarrassed Garret, yet he knew Randall Coulson well enough to understand that if the old man wanted to know something he wouldn’t stop until he had the desired answers. Finally, Garret answered truthfully.

  “Yeah, I do. Can I go now?”

  “No, we need to talk first. I should have had this talk with your father so your mother couldn’t have tricked him.”

  “Tricked him?”

  “That isn’t important now; it all worked out. She gave me three grandsons. Your grandmother was only able to give me one son. So in retrospect, the one thing your father did right was have three sons, even though it wasn’t his doing.”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Garret was confused.

  “Knowing how you are, Garret, you’ll take any opportunity that comes your way to stick your pecker in some pussy. I just don’t want you to be stupid about it. Here.” His grandfather handed him a box of condoms. “Keep that thing covered before you go sticking it anywhere. I don’t need you knocking up some girl, especially in Coulson. When it comes time to get married, you need to pick someone from the right family. A shotgun marriage might have worked for your father, but it probably won’t for you, considering the type of girls you’ll encounter here. Enjoy them all you want, but don’t leave a baby in them.”

  It was then Garret had realized his mother had been pregnant with Sonny when his parents married. He had never really thought about it before, but when he considered Sonny’s birthday and his parent’s anniversary, it wasn’t difficult to figure out.

  From that time on, someone—probably someone from the household staff on his grandfather’s orders—would periodically leave a box of condoms in his bathroom. He never suffered the embarrassment of trying to purchase them at the local pharmacy.

  Streets had been cut in on the far south side of town, but houses had not yet been built on the lots. Some of the streets were paved and some were dirt. Most of the lots were currently for sale by Coulson Enterprises’ real estate division. A few had already been sold, yet were still bare land. Cul-de-sacs along this area of Coulson had become a popular party spot for the bored teenagers of the small town.

  Garret parked the truck and got out with Sheryl. They could hear voices and music coming from nearby cul-de-sacs, from other teenage partiers. He grabbed a blanket and a six-pack of beer from the back of the truck and walked with Sheryl to an isolated spot away from the vehicle. The three couples in the truck bed had hopped out when Garret first parked and had headed out in opposite directions to find their own dark corner.

  One thing Garret liked about Sheryl, she didn’t care about all that preliminary bullshit some of the girls expected. No reason to sweet talk her or buy her gifts. After downing several beers, Sheryl removed her clothes. Garret didn’t bother removing his; he just unbuttoned his denims and put on a condom.

  When Garret was finished, he rolled off Sheryl, his breathing labored. Removing the condom, he tossed it into the dirt, tucked his penis back in his shorts, and zipped up his pants. Sheryl sat up and started to put her clothes back on.

  “Did you leave your cigarettes in the truck?” she asked as she redressed.

  “I have some in my shirt,” Garret told her. He looked up at the stars as he took the pack of cigarettes out of his shirt pocket. “But I think you smashed them.”

  “Well, you could’ve taken your clothes off. I removed mine.”

  The package was slightly squished, but the cigarettes remained intact. Garret removed two cigarettes and lit one, then handed it to Sheryl. He lit the second one for himself and continued to lie on the blanket, staring up at the stars.

  “Why? You got where you needed to go,” he said.

  “I know but still. I think it’s only fair you take your clothes off too.” Sitting on the blanket, she took a drag off the cigarette.”

  They sat in silence for a few moments before Sheryl asked, “What are you doing the Saturday before Halloween? Suzie’s having a party. Her folks are going to Vegas that weekend.”

  “My mother’s having one of her parties that night. I’m supposed to be there. I plan to cut out as soon as I can make my escape.”

  “A costume party?” Sheryl asked.

  “I guess.”

  “Can you take a date?”

  “To the party?”

  “Yeah.”

  “If I wanted to. Which I don’t.” Garret tossed his cigarette butt in the direction he had pitched the used condom.

  “Take me, Garret. Please. I’d love to see inside your house,” Sheryl pleaded.

  Garret sat up. “Sheryl, I’ve always been straight with you. We aren’t dating. You aren’t my girlfriend.”

  “I know,” she said sadly.

  Garret stood up. “Let’s get out of here.”

  “So soon?” She remained sitting on the blanket. The moonlight and stars above provided the only illumination.

  “If you want to go another round, I’m up for it,” Garret suggested. He dug into his pocket and pulled out another condom.

  “So you really won’t take me to the costume party?”

  “No. What do you want to do? You want me to take you home, or do you want to do it again?”

  Sheryl didn’t answer immediately. After a few moments of silence, she began removing her clothes. Garret unzipped his pants and returned to the blanket.

  Vera left Randall in the library, and she went up to her bedroom. On her way down the hall, she glanced in Harrison’s room. They hadn’t shared a bedroom since Russell’s birth.

  She had taken a shower before dinner, so getting ready for bed took her less than fifteen minutes. Exhausted, she climbed in between her clean sheets and fell asleep.

  “Fanny, come here to your Charles,” Fred beckoned.

  She knew what he expected of her. “Do we have to, Fred?”

  Vera was always frightened when he initiated the play. It hurt so much the first time. But then—then she came to enjoy the pain and the pleasure.

  “Don’t call me Fred. Remember, I’m Charles, and who are you?”

  “I’m your Fanny,” she said obediently.

  “Good girl. Remember how I saved you from that horrible man?”

  “I guess…” Fanny stammered.

  “Vera, do I have to read that part again to you?”

  “No!” She hated that part of the book. The man in the story reminded her of her music teacher.

  Obediently, she stood very still while he lifted her skirts and pulled down her underwear.

  “Hold your skirt up for me, Fanny, so I can see.”

  Together they looked in the mirror and watched while his fingers toyed with the hidden folds. Looking down, she wondered where her curls had gone, and then she remembered she didn’t have them yet. Glancing up, it was no longer Fred’s face nor Charles’ face, it was Anthony’s.

  It felt good—it always did—but then he—Charles, no Fred—or was it Anthony? —pushed her down on the floor and used his hard shaft instead of fingers,
hammering into her until she exploded into a million colorful pieces.

  Chapter 9

  “I really don’t want to go to church with you tomorrow,” Sonny told his parents and grandfather Saturday evening at supper. The family sat around the dinner table at Coulson House. Garret was the only absent family member.

  “It’s nonnegotiable,” Randall told his grandson. Sonny’s parents said nothing, but listened to the exchange.

  “Well, Grandfather, I’m an adult now. A college graduate. If I don’t want to attend church that should be my prerogative.”

  “Fine,” Randall said as he took a roll from the breadbasket and tore it in half.

  “Fine? Then you’re okay with it?” Sonny asked.

  “No. But I can’t make you go. As you said, you’re an adult now.” Randall took a bite of his roll. “Of course, I imagine an adult can pay for his own European tour.”

  “Are you saying I can’t go on the trip if I refuse to go to church with you?”

  “Certainly not. You’re free to go to Europe. You’re an adult. But I don’t have to pay for it.”

  Sonny sat dumbly at the table, saying nothing.

  “Dad, did you go to church when you were a kid?” Russell asked his father.

  “No, we didn’t start going to church until I married your mother.”

  “Your father’s right,” Randall said. “Your grandmother and I never attended church. My family was Baptist. When I left home, I swore I’d never go back. As for your grandmother, I can’t remember what church her family attended. But she stopped going when we were married.”

  “Grandfather, I would think you’d understand my feelings, considering you stopped going to church when you left home,” Sonny said.

  Randall set his fork on the table and looked at his eldest grandson.

  “You say you’re an adult, Sonny. It’s time you realize there are certain things we must do—for both business and political reasons.”

  “Political?” Sonny asked.

  “Yes. The future is unlimited for the men in this family. There may come a time we want to test the waters of politics, but before we do, we need to present the perfect image of the American family. The perfect American family attends church together on Sundays.”

  “I’ll go, Grandfather,” Sonny begrudgingly conceded. It was quiet for a few minutes at the dinner table as everyone ate. Finally, Sonny asked, “Does Garret go to church with the family?” Sonny couldn’t imagine his brother would still be attending church every Sunday.

  Vera looked up at Sonny and gave a sardonic smile. “Much to the minister’s chagrin,” she said.

  “I don’t understand?” Sonny frowned.

  “How old was Garret when you left for college? Twelve? I don’t think you appreciate your younger brother’s personal charm,” Randall said.

  “I don’t know why you find it so amusing.” Vera sounded annoyed. She looked over at her eldest son. “Garret is out of control and your father and grandfather find it amusing.”

  “Oh, he isn’t that bad,” her husband said. “He’s just a typical teenage boy, sowing his wild oats.”

  “I still don’t understand why you said much to the minister’s chagrin,” Sonny asked.

  “Some very nice girls attend our church,” Vera explained. “From very nice families. Garret seems to delight in flirting with—and sitting with these young girls at church, and it’s fairly obvious it makes their parents uncomfortable.”

  “The girls really like Garret,” Russell said.

  Anthony was getting restless. He figured it was time to step up the game. He hadn’t seen the princess since Friday night. He had driven by her house several times on Saturday but didn’t venture up the long drive to the estate or park on the street.

  Cruising around town on Sunday morning, he noticed the Coulson limousine at one of the churches. He parked across the street for an hour and just watched. When services were over, he saw them—the princess and her family. I wonder if she confessed her sins, he asked himself with a chuckle. Then he remembered protestant churches didn’t have confessionals, at least that is what he understood.

  Anthony watched as she got into the limo with the old man, her husband and oldest son. He recognized Garret, who was with a small boy. Instead of getting into the limo, the two were walking over to Garret’s truck. Anthony remembered she had a third son about this boy’s age. Taking a pair of binoculars out of the glove compartment, he took a closer look.

  Good looking boy, he thought. He didn’t think it was fair that her husband had three strapping boys and a hot wife. Especially considering the fact Coulson wasn’t giving the woman what she clearly needed. There was no way she would have responded the way she did in the bathroom if she wasn’t starving for a man’s touch. Another woman might have submissively let him have his way, but there would have been tears. There were no tears with the princess—just soaked panties.

  It wasn’t difficult to follow the limousine without being seen, considering the number of cars leaving the church parking lot at the same time. When they pulled up to a restaurant a couple miles away, he figured they were going to have breakfast. Knowing women, he knew where he would find her.

  Anthony slipped into the back entrance of the restaurant and located the women’s restroom. He stood by the door for a moment, waiting to see if anyone was coming out. Finally, a woman exited.

  “Excuse me,” he asked the woman. “I’m looking for my wife, and I think she went in the lady’s room. Was a redhead in there?”

  “No. There isn’t anyone in there,” The woman told him. Anthony thanked her and watched her walk away. When no one was looking, he slipped into the women’s restroom. He was pleased to discover a storage room off the bathroom. The door was locked, but it took him less than a minute to get it open and slip inside.

  The storage room was even larger than he had expected. It would easily hold two people. Keeping the door slightly ajar, he could see who was coming into the bathroom.

  She arrived even sooner than he had anticipated. The princess was alone.

  Vera was about to walk into the first stall when a hand from the storage room reached out and grabbed her, while a second hand covered her mouth. In the next moment, she found herself in a dark closet, held captive by a pair of strong arms.

  “Settle down, Princess,” the voice whispered. She knew instantly who it was. Vera did as she was told.

  “Please, let me go,” she whispered.

  “I just needed to see you. I missed you. You’re so beautiful, you know. I won’t hurt you.”

  “Please, just let me go. I won’t say anything.”

  “I know you won’t, Princess, because you know we’re meant for each other. I can give you want you need. A woman like you needs special care.”

  “Please, I’ll scream.”

  “No you won’t. If you do, I’ll tell your husband you came willingly.”

  “He won’t believe you,” she whispered.

  “He will, when I tell him how I know you have a sexy little heart shaped mole.”

  “Please…” Vera began to shake.

  “Princess, if you didn’t want this, didn’t need this, you would have screamed by now. You need what I can give you.”

  “No…” She trembled.

  “Baby, your husband isn’t man enough for a woman like you. When was the last time he gave you what you needed? Gave you what I gave you Friday night?”

  “What do you want from me?” she asked.

  Instead of answering her question, he showed her. Anthony’s mouth claimed hers while his arms wrapped around her, holding her close.

  Vera could not remember the last time she had been kissed like this. She had only been with two men in her entire life. The first was a neighbor—Fred, the husband to one of her mother’s best friends. She was only fourteen at the time and still a virgin. Vera never told her mother—or anyone what had happened.

  When Anthony kissed her—demanded she acquiesce—she wa
s that fourteen-year-old girl again, submitting from fear, confusion, and conflicting sexual desire. Anthony intuitively knew he was in control, that she would do whatever he asked.

  Without saying a word, he pushed Vera to her knees and unzipped his pants.

  Vera stood at the sink and looked into the mirror. Anthony had slipped out of the bathroom a few minutes earlier, and there were two women in the stalls. They had entered when she was still in the closet with Anthony—on her knees.

  Terrified that they would hear them or open the door, she submissively followed Anthony’s silent instructions. She could still taste him. Had she not followed his instructions exactly, her Sunday dress would now be spattered with his seed. She felt ill.

  Trembling, she washed her face with a paper towel.

  “I was just going to come back to check on you,” Harrison said when she returned to the table. He then took a closer look and frowned. “Vera, are you all right? You look all flushed, and you’ve been crying.”

  “I’m afraid I’m sick.” It wasn’t a complete lie. “I’m going to have the driver take me home. You stay here and enjoy your breakfast.”

  “Are you sure?” Randall asked.

  “Yes. It’s just a bad headache. Sometimes those make me ill.”

  On the ride back home, Vera sat alone in the back of the limousine, lost in private thought. Closing her eyes, she visualized herself on her knees before Anthony.

  For as long as she could remember, she was simply going through the motions. It wasn’t just that she was not happy—she felt nothing. While a part of her was repulsed over what Anthony had made her do in the storage room, he also made her feel something.

  By feeling something, she once again felt alive. A moth to flame, she thought.

  Chapter 10

  Garret took Russell home after church and then left to find his friends. Russell dashed upstairs to his room, changed his clothes, and came back downstairs again to go outside. He got onto his black Stingray bicycle and coasted down the long drive leading to the street. It gave him enough momentum that he didn’t have to peddle right away. He was planning to meet Ryan Keller for a game of over-the-line. But first, he’d stop at Tommy’s to see if he wanted to join them.