Several weeks passed after one of the most memorable long weekends of Pete Taylor’s young life. Over that fateful weekend Pete and his girlfriend Katrina had mutually masturbated in her mother’s car on Saturday, explored oral sex on Sunday, and experimented with a 69 position on Monday. That same Monday they had even tried nudism on the small stretch of private beach that made up part of Pete’s parent’s property.
In addition, Pete had, during the same weekend, spied his step-sister having lesbian sex with her new college roommate, tried to blackmail the two into giving him a sex show the next day, and received his come-upins the day after that. To top it all off, Pete had been caught naked by his step-mother with her g-string in his hand which developed into her determining and, what Pete could only believe, encouraging a theoretical panty fetish on his part.
Pete’s life had since settled back down to as normal as his senior year in high school allowed. Along with all the academic work he found himself drowning in, he had successfully made the soccer team, though only as a second string bench warmer for the most part. It did not bother Pete in the least as he really only wanted to join so he could hang with his friends. After all, baseball was his sport, but that would have to wait until spring. If that were not enough, he continued his role as chief photographer for the school paper. He had even begun writing articles for the sports page. Thankfully, Katrina was always there for support, moral or otherwise.
On her side, Katrina felt swamped under science projects, yearbook and prom committee meetings, and the school orchestra. On top of everything else, she also volunteered her time as a candy striper at the local hospital. It was always a welcome relief to snuggle in the arms of her “Peteycakes”, a new nickname she had given Pete and loved watching him wince at. She had conceived the moniker in retaliation to Pete now calling her “Trixie” in reference to the small, rabbit-shaped birthmark on her right butt cheek he had discovered.
The frequency of their sexual encounters had subsided significantly as school activities preoccupied most of their time, especially now with college looming. They still managed to find time for each other and their new found love of oral sex. It wasn’t uncommon to find them late on a Saturday night, secluded on a lonely stretch of road, sixty-nining one another in the backseat of Katrina’s mother’s car. One particular Saturday night, two weeks before their anniversary on Halloween, Katrina insisted they discuss the occasion ahead of any hanky panky. “Business before pleasure,” was how she had phrased it.
“I was wondering if you had anything planned for Halloween this year, Peteycakes?” Katrina asked inquisitively.
“Me and the boys want to celebrate Halloween at Finnegan’s Pub this year now that nearly everyone’s of legal age. It’ll be a good change from Billy Bannister’s backyard, though those were always a blast. I also thought I could get the crowd to toast our anniversary and convince the d.j. to clear the floor and let us have a ceremonial dance all to ourselves. I bet you thought I was gonna say nothing, huh?” Pete asked with a smug look on his face.
“Oh, that’s so romantic,” Katrina cooed holding Pete’s hand in hers. “I thought we could do something different though,” she said resolutely as if there were no debate as to who’s idea was better. “I thought we could celebrate by renting a hotel room over the weekend, some romantic getaway somewhere and, well, maybe make love for our first time?” She looked as though she had just given her boyfriend the best present he had ever received, grinning enthusiastically in anticipation of his response.
Pete took a few seconds to absorb what his girlfriend had just said. “Fuck Finnegan’s!” he shouted with wide eyes and a big grin as he pounced on Katrina and kissed her deeply. It did not take long before the car’s windows were fogged with cries of “Oh, Trixie!” and “Oh, Peteycakes!” emanating from the vehicle.
The two weeks that followed the agreement to lose their virginities on their anniversary were extra special for Pete and Katrina. Every smile was brighter, every kiss longer, and they whispered twice as many sweet nothings into each other’s ears. Things had picked up at home for Pete as well. Ever since he assured Maggie that he did not have a panty fetish it was as if their relationship had cooled down a notch or two.
They had always gotten along, but there seemed to be a slight downcast, dispirited air about Maggie ever since. It might have gone unperceived if Maggie’s usual temperament had not always been so bubbly, bright, and breezy. Now that he and Katrina were to consummate their relationship, the news of which, of course, made it’s way to the couple’s mothers, Maggie had risen out of her slump. Pete had even made his way home one day and found Maggie, Vanessa, and Katrina in the living room all giggling together. When they spotted him Maggie and Vanessa greeted Pete in concert with a boisterously cheerful, “Hi, Peteycakes!” Pete shot a sullen “Hey!” back at the sound of that nickname and squinted an irksome eye on Katrina. She was staring out the window, chuckling behind a closed fist, too embarrassed to look at him. “It’s good to see Maggie as lively and upbeat as Vanessa again,” he thought. Even Arthur, his father, had gotten wind of the news.
“So my boy’s to become a man!” boomed Arthur with an approving glint in his eyes. It was a rare occasion when Arthur was around long enough to catch up on his son’s life. He offered Pete a shot of his favourite imported scotch over a game of billiards in the basement as a means of congratulations. Pete always enjoyed spending time with his dad and especially enjoyed beating him at billiards. Things turned awkward when his father began animatedly giving him advice on how to please a woman, complete with hand gestures and terminology. Pete just took it in stride, nodding considerately.
The Thursday night before Pete and Katrina were to check-in to the “Clover Cove Hotel” on an island six hours distance from their seaside town he received an e-mail from someone he did not recognize. “Who the heck is RSS86?” he questioned out loud. He immediately knew who it was after he opened it. “Rebecca! What does she want?” he questioned out loud again. Her e-mail read:
“Pete, I can’t stop thinking about what happened a month ago. I really want us to talk, face-to-face. Why don’t you come visit Samantha and myself at our dorm room, (26, Johnson Hall), either next weekend or the weekend following. Things are sure to be too busy and hectic here afterwards with term finals coming. I guess I just feel as though an unresolved monkey is ridding my back. It’s hurting my performance on the track as a matter of fact. Sam and I will treat you to a night on the town here in the big city. Let me know what you think. Either way, I miss you all. -R.S.S.”
Pete did not reply right away, he couldn’t. He needed time to mull it over. Two hours later he wrote back and agreed to meet with his step-sister. He mentioned that he wanted to visit not only for her sake, but for his as well. The sentiment was not completely untrue. He wrote that if he could not make it the first weekend of November than he would surely be able to make it the next and that he would keep her posted. An hour later he finished his message telling her he missed her too.
The following evening, Pete drove up to Katrina’s mother’s condominium in the old pickup truck Maggie and Arthur had given him on his eighteenth birthday. The camper top still bore the logo of Maggie’s floral shop, “Maggie’s Flowers”, on the side, but Pete did not mind. His parents had each spent quite a bit of money fixing the truck up and had even installed a cd player in it for him. Katrina came bounding out of her house and hopped in the truck looking as excited as ever. As they drove away they waved goodbye to Vanessa.
“This is it! This should be a weekend to remember. So is the Monday we’re taking off the first time you play hooky, miss Moretti?” Pete asked Katrina as they made their way onto the highway.
“Actually it is. I brought some snacks in case we get hungry. That reminds me, I made dinner reservations for tomorrow night. I hope they have decent oysters. I’m in the mood for raw oysters. How about yourself, Petey, what are you in the mood for?” Katrina asked.
“My sweet tooth is telling me fudge brownies, but my loins are screaming for pussy,” Pete replied laughing at Katrina’s “I walked into that one” expression.