Amply Rewarded (2 page)

* * * *

Tommy was way younger than my father, but wanted to be just like him. He idolised the life my dad had and swore that, since his wild days were over, he would try to get on track, save some money and buy a house. I liked hearing about the wild days.

He used to invite me to help him with the apples. Our apple trees were the farthest from the farmhouse. Together, we walked through tall grasses down the groves and around the bend of my father’s land. Once out of everyone’s sight, Tommy showed me sides of himself that nobody else saw. It was in the orchard that he gave me my first education on pleasuring men.

Tommy chased me, grabbed onto my waist and I ran, laughing—we were playful like that. I had always been a good runner and therefore had never been caught, but there was something about Tommy—his brute strength, his dark skin—that made me want to be caught, if only to see what the next part of the game involved.

We tumbled to the ground. He tickled me and I laughed and laughed. We rolled around together like tumbleweed until I ended up sitting on him, my legs wrapped around his waist, his sweaty arms wrapped around me. The sun beat down on us through the slight shelter of the apple trees and we kissed. It was so gentle…in the beginning. Within days, my lips touched so many more parts of him than his lips.

He explored my body with amazement. His eyes were shocked and delighted each time I revealed a little more of myself and felt the warmth of the summer sun on my bare skin. It was as though he were doing this for the first time. I knew that could not be true, because I spent many nights hiding on ceiling planks in the barn, listening to the men talk about women they had known and what had happened. Tommy had the most to tell, but always went last. In retrospect, he was just as virginal as I was but, back in those orchard days, I would have insisted he knew all there was to know about pleasing women.

Tommy taught me to enjoy my body. His strong hands felt raspy and rough against my skin as he reached underneath my dress, up past my stomach, along my side to my breasts. His thick fingers circled my nipples and I could feel myself wanting more and more of the sensation he was giving me. My body writhed with delight, and I moved from where I had been sitting, on the lawn, to my favourite position—straddling him on his lap. My nipples stuck out, and were so much harder than I could make them myself, when I touched them in private.

I wanted more. I became a slave to the insatiable desires of my nipples, as though they functioned independently of me.

One day, we were secluded out in the orchard. I couldn’t stand the pulsing sensation between my legs any longer. To Tommy’s amazement—he had always called me a lady—I tore off my dress and panties and sat down on him, completely naked. I arched myself back so that my nipples were at the level of his mouth. He sucked with passion and disbelief.

I was excited at once by my body and by the idea that this should not be happening, that my father had sternly warned me against associating with men. What was I to do? There was nothing I wanted more than Tommy’s tongue on my breasts. Until, of course, I wanted Tommy’s tongue all over.

I felt the swelling underneath his work pants. He wanted to share it with me, as if it were a precious gift. I took his enthusiasm as an offering of knowledge. I welcomed it by unzipping him and loosening the constraint on his cock. He was already hard and his discomfort showed. His face expressed relief when his cock was finally free. It was stunning. Intuitively, and with the same greediness that he’d shown when he’d sucked on my nipples, I took him into my mouth.

It was delicious, like the first ripe fruit of the season. I guiltily gorged and tried to hide more and more of it in my mouth. He collaborated by taking my head between his hands and moving me up and down his shaft as he emitted loud, encouraging moans. Time seemed to stand still as we moved together in bliss. Just when I became accustomed to our rhythm, I felt an urgency build in him. It made me quiver with lust and curiosity. He used strong hands to move my head faster and faster until he almost yelped and released a gigantic pool of juice into my mouth.

He lifted my head and studied my facial expression with an intensity that I had never been given. His offering slid down my throat and I licked my lips. Then he kissed me.

* * * *

I became addicted to our shared interest. I learned how to take him from calm and flaccid to abundant and giving with my mouth, my hands and my breasts. To my knowledge, he didn’t talk about it with the other men, perhaps for fear of what my father would do. I was pleased that he had not jeopardised our secret. I had not learned everything I could from him. I wanted him to take my virginity but he told me to be less eager. That was not our only difference of opinion.

Tommy was not only a gentleman but—poor thing—he was also a man in love. Somehow, in his mind, he had equated my acceptance of his tutelage with my acceptance of him. He wanted us to slow down, he said. He wanted us to be more tender with each other. He asked me to go with him to Boise on a shopping trip.

“To the farm equipment supplier? How exciting.” By then, I had mastered the miracle of sarcasm.

Tommy was about five years older than me and had long since passed his sarcastic phase, if he had ever had one. He was seldom as amused by me as I was. “Come with me, Julie. I want us to look at something. Something nice.”

As soon as the words came out of his mouth, I was panic-stricken. I didn’t know what exactly he was referring to, but I could tell that I wouldn’t approve. I’m not exactly sure why, but I went along with it. Inexperience meant I didn’t have gracious ways of getting out of undesirable situations.

Three hours later, we were in Boise. Tommy pulled into a strip mall that had a jewellery store, a pet store and a grocery store. My pulse raced through my body.

“Julie, I’ve been thinking…” He wasn’t looking me in the eye anymore, but staring straight ahead at the noisy traffic. “You really mean a lot to me and I want to get you something special.”

Focusing on the pet store, I said, “I don’t know, Tommy. I mean, kittens and puppies are a big commitment and I’m just not sure I’m ready.”

“Julie, c’mon, be serious. I’m talking about a ring here.”

“What for? You going to ask me to marry you, or something?”

“Well, maybe not just yet…”

“I should think not, Tommy. I’m only nineteen.”

“But in a couple of years…”

It was worse than I had anticipated. Because I had been afraid of this inevitable talk, I had imagined it many times in my head. In my imagination—unlike now—I’d always come across as thoughtful and diplomatic.

“Tommy, that’s really sweet but you’re my first…well…boyfriend… If that’s what you are… I mean… C’mon… You work for my father…and… Well… I’m young…”

“That’s why I said in a couple of years. I want to get you a promise ring. And then, when the time is right—”

“When the time is right?” I interrupted him because I hated the ease with which the words rolled off his tongue. “Then what, Tommy? You’ll propose? Then what? We’ll get married, move into a house—or, worse, stay at the farm… Move into my parents’ bedroom? Is that what you want?” The idea was vile. Years of a possible future flashed before my eyes and repulsed me.

“I love you, Julie.”

He played it as if it were a magic hand he had been dealt at cards.

“Oh, bullshit,” I said.

“What?”

“You heard me. You don’t love me. You just love the idea of me. Keep working at the farm, take over the family business, the family daughter.”

“You’re awful. How can you even say that? And how dare you tell me how I feel?”

“Get out.”

“What?”

“You heard me. Get out.”

He was as mad as anyone would be who was three hours away from home and knew they were about to be dropped off and left behind. I didn’t have a choice. I suppose I could have been nicer about the whole thing, but that would just have encouraged him. It would have given him a sliver of hope that we shared a mutual vision for our lives, which we did not.

As I shoved over to the driver’s side, fastened my seatbelt and reversed out of the parking stall, I took a look at Tommy in my rear-view mirror. He was cursing and kicking the pavement and flailing his arms about. I felt sorry for him at the same time as I felt I had narrowly escaped a horrid future with this grubby, small-minded man. A promise ring? What was he thinking? We had barely fooled around, and already he wanted to shack up with me? Linda Evans would have said no, too.

* * * *

When I pulled up to the plot of lawn where we keep the truck, my mom came running out of the house. “Show me the ring,” she cooed, rubbing her floured hands on her apron. She stopped short of hugging me. “Where’s Tommy?”

“You knew about this?”

“Well…uh… Your father told me not to say anything, but they had a little chat the other night and…”

It was the worst conspiracy I’d ever had the displeasure of witnessing. I knew I’d have to leave this place. My parents were all too set on the idea of my furthering their ambitions. I couldn’t bear the thought of not seeing the world, of not knowing what it felt like to make it on my own. If Tommy wanted to stay here, let him. As for the farm, it was a clear oversight on my parents’ part to only have the two of us, and unfortunate that my sister was so useless.

* * * *

“What’d you do with Tommy?” my father asked, by way of opening up the dinner conversation.

“I dropped him off in Boise.”

“In Boise?”

“Yep.”

“What, the ring he gave you wasn’t big enough or something?”

“Not big enough at all.”

Faith gave me a dirty look and my parents just looked as if I’d committed the worst sin imaginable. After a lot of uncomfortable throat clearing, my mom picked up where Dad had left off.

“I can’t believe your biggest objection is the size of the ring.”

“If you knew me at all, you’d know I wasn’t talking about the ring. My dreams are bigger than all of this.”

I pushed my chair out, marched past her, out into the orchard, and kept on walking. I didn’t want to talk to anyone for a while. I had been taken aback by the tone of my own voice. The strength of my words came from my heart and they were true, but as soon as I’d said them I’d known I’d said something they would not understand. They’d never be able to comprehend my thoughts, ambitions, feelings or beliefs. We were so different.

When I came back into the house, everyone was still in the kitchen eating. A hush came over the room when I walked in and sat down. I filled my plate and, just as I began to eat my lumpy mashed potatoes, I saw my father’s smirk. The only sound in the room was cutlery on plates. Everyone averted their eyes.

“Why, I just can’t believe you can make a fella walk all the way from Boise. That’s a good day of walking,” my father said. Everyone at the table laughed.

“You owe me my best guy,” he continued. “Maybe Tommy’s not your dream man, but he is mine. So I’ll expect you bright and early out there since you seen to it that my guy’s nowhere around.”

I couldn’t argue with my father. His verdict was fair and I set my alarm, got up at five and joined him and the other men outside in my work clothes. The harvest stops for no one.

I was sitting on a barrel, eating an apple, when I spied Tommy’s figure at the gate. A couple of the guys ran over to him and my father, somewhat instinctively, turned to him. I took it all as my cue to go inside for a while. I liked watching soap operas but being in one was not my style.

I’d thought we had been discreet. I’d thought no one had known. Finding out that they had was not only devastating, but it irked me. I’d always had my secret plan, my secret version of myself, and the way they all looked at me now, I could tell the only version of me they saw was Tommy’s.

* * * *

However secret we’d kept ourselves before, news spread about the cruel way I’d rejected Tommy. Everyone disapproved of me and offered their sympathies to him. It was so typical. Faith told me I’d made the worst choice of my life and that now I’d never find a decent man, since I’d ruined things with Tommy. She could be so dramatic.

“He’s like every other man,” I told Faith. “I could get him back like that if I wanted.” I snapped my fingers.

“You could not.”

“Watch me.”

The dare was on. I had never lost an argument with Faith about anything. With my naïve sister in tow, I went to our room, where I changed into my white summer dress. Of all my clothes, this dress was the most revealing of my cleavage. I peeled off my panties and tossed them under my covers. Faith followed me out back to where the men were working.

“Tommy? Can I have a moment with you?”

He cocked his head to one side, confused by my friendly tone. “Sure.”

I took him by the hand and led him off to the orchard. I turned back and gestured to Faith to follow us, which she did not. I felt like I’d won already.

On the way to the orchard, Tommy said, “I’m heartbroken.”

“Don’t be so sentimental,” I said.

“I wanted to you to be my wife and you just laughed at me. Do you have any idea what that does to a guy?”

“It wasn’t personal. It’s not you I find laughable—it’s marriage.”

“Marriage?”

“The whole charade of it, the idea of one woman and one man acknowledging before God and man that they will only ever love each other.”

“What’s wrong with that?”

“Nothing, but it’s not the way my heart works. And the idea that marriage means monogamy. I find that laughable, too.”

“You do?” He was incredulous.

“Of course. I’ve heard you talk about other women. I know you have needs.”

“Oh, Julie. You overheard us? Oh, baby, I’m sorry. That wasn’t for your ears. That’s just how guys talk. I was making it up.”

“It’s okay, Tommy. It’s natural. I have needs, too.”

“I was planning on taking good care of your needs once we got married.”