Homeless – CHAPTER 6

Adult story: Homeless – CHAPTER 6

by senorlongo

The one good thing about cancelling our trip to Santee was that I was able to phone Jeremy, the head pro at Farmstead about some lessons for Jennie. We met with him on the range at 11:00 Friday morning. I spent an hour hitting balls while Jeremy worked on improving Jennie’s technique. I could help her, but Jeremy had the technical knowledge that I lacked.

He was also a 2-handicap while I was a 15. They worked together on putting for about fifteen minutes before we loaded our bags onto a cart and went out to play a round. Farmstead is, in my opinion, a fairly easy course with wide fairways on most holes. What makes it unique is the 18th—674 yards from the men’s tees and a par 6. It’s the only par 6 that I know of.

Jennie and I played slowly, but I thought she did well, scoring three pars while shooting a 112. In another month she’d be under a hundred, for sure.

We thanked Jeremy and I gave him $150, telling him we’d see him again on Monday. Jennie was positively glowing on the ride home. “Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. I had such a wonderful time. I had no idea golf was such a scientific sport.”

“I suspect you could say that about all sports. As casual observers we’re just not aware of all the technicalities.” Jennie reached over and took my hand in hers. We were back in the driveway fifteen minutes later. We were just in time to meet with the new cleaning contractor. After checking the house he told me he would charge $75 a week. That was more than May had charged, but I doubted they would stick their noses into my business.

Jennie and I went in to shower before going out to dinner. Instead of a big meal I drove back almost all the way to Farmstead, stopping at Christopher’s for pizza and beer. I was from Long Island, New York originally and there were more than half a million Italian Americans there—and plenty of pizza joints. Most of the pizza I’d found here just sucked, but Christopher was originally from Brooklyn and his pizza showed it.

We sat in the simple restaurant and ordered two Yuengling’s and a large pie—extra cheese and sausage. We enjoyed our beer as we watched a golf tournament on one of the TV’s. I could see Jennie thinking about how the pro’s planned and executed their shots. Ten minutes later our pie arrived and we ate. Knowing Jennie I doubted that we’d have any leftovers. We didn’t. There wasn’t even a scrap left on Jennie’s plate. “I’m sure you realize that pizza isn’t really big in Iowa. Well, that’s not actually true. It is big if you like Pizza Hut. This was much better. I really liked it.”

I couldn’t suppress a chuckle as I replied, “I noticed.” Jennie turned the most delightful shade of red. I leaned across the table and gave her a quick kiss. “You’re also beautiful when you blush. Speaking about beauty, I just had an idea. We should get you an appointment to get your hair done and also your nails. I know of a good place for a manicure, but you should get a pedicure, too.”

I asked our waitress if she knew of a good beauty parlor in the area. She laughed. “Take a good look at my hair. It’s in a ponytail for a reason. I’ll ask some of the other women though if you want.” I did and she came back about ten minutes later, dropping the bill on the table. She also gave me a piece of paper with “Carla’s” and a phone number.

“It’s not called Carla’s any more,” she said, “but nobody could recall the new one. They said the phone number is the same, though.” I knew where Carla’s was—right across the street from Holden Brothers’ huge farm store. I’d gone there several times in the fall to buy tomatoes, peppers, and even North Carolina apples. I never knew that apples could be grown in North Carolina, but I’d never be described as a farmer either.

The next month was really busy for the two of us. We were able to play golf twice a week even though the weather could best be described as “chilly.” I met with a locksmith and selected a high quality lockset and deadbolt for my front and garage doors. He also recommended a device that would secure my sliding glass door effectively. I had already changed the code for my house alarm. Next was a fence.

I met with two contractors who had experience with wrought iron estate fencing. Both had excellent references including three churches, a funeral parlor, and the county’s richest man. Their prices were close, but I chose the more expensive because he could start immediately. There were large stone pillars on either side of the driveway that had been installed by the previous owner.

They were perfect for the remote controlled gate I wanted. A concrete footing every eight feet would serve as a strong base for the vertical posts with additional stone columns at every corner. The dock would have a gate with a numerical keypad on each side for better security, too.

Jennie had been studying the DMV manual online for two days when her new birth certificate arrived in the mail. I was pleased, but I could see that Jennie had her concerns. “Are you sure this is safe, Doug?”

“I think we would have had a visit from either the police or homeland security if it wasn’t. They sent the birth certificate instead. I’ll bet that even that small county gets dozens of requests every year. It’s just a routine deal. How many reasons for getting a new one can we think of? Fire? Flood?”

“Lost while moving?”

“Sure, probably more than all the others combined. How about eaten by a pet?”

“Okay…how about eaten by a kid?”

“Was that something from your sordid past?”

“No, but I would have done anything to escape from that loser and my non-mother.”

“I know, and you did it, didn’t you?”

“I would have done it sooner if I had known I’d be taken in by you.” That remark was accompanied by a sly smile that I returned as I sent her back to work. I connected to my wi-fi through a new laptop I’d bought. The stolen one was still in police hands as evidence from the theft. Using the laptop I was able to access my investment program where I learned I had earned more than $50,000 over the past weekend. I kept the program running even though my current investments earned me millions each and every week. I would donate virtually every dollar to selected charities before the end of the year.

Since the 9/11tragedy the state has required much more stringent identification so on Wednesday morning I drove Jennie to Conway, South Carolina so she could get a social security card. She used the same story she had told the clerk in Tennessee, except this time she told the clerk that she had no idea if her parents had requested a card for her as the entire contents of their house had been consumed in the fire. There was nothing on file for a Jennifer Marie Townsend, born in Tennessee on August 4, 1992 so she walked out with a new card. From there we went to my bank where I transferred $2,000,000 from one of my investments to a checking and savings account for Jennie.

Once she had received a statement she would need only two more things—a cell phone bill addressed to her at my, or our, address and proof that she had been added to my automobile insurance.

“I’ve thought about getting a lease agreement and charging you rent. That’s another form of identification the DMV accepts.”

“I’m paying you rent,” she asked in shock.

“No, of course not, but a rental lease is a lot easier for you to get than a utility or cable bill. Of course, I’d be open to bartering…services for rent or meals.” I couldn’t hide the grin.

“If that was true you’d wind up owing me money after the first day,” she replied with a grin of her own.

“Too true,” I said as I leaned over for a quick kiss before resuming our trip to Dr. Whitney’s office. We had a 4:30 appointment so I thought we’d be lucky to wait less than an hour. We waited for less than half that and went in together again.

“I’m not accustomed to seeing two patients at once,” Dr. Whitney announced when she walked through the door. “But if that’s what you want….”

She shuffled through some papers before sharing my test results. “Douglas, you’re fine—no sign of any STD’s.” She listened to my breathing and heartbeat before shooing me from the table and addressing Jennie. “Jennifer, most of your tests are perfectly normal—exactly what I would expect of someone your age. Unfortunately, you do have Chlamydia. There are two primary antibiotics—Doxycycline and Azithromycin. Of the two I much prefer the Azithromycin. If you take a seven day dose it will be in your system for fourteen. That should be more than enough to clear it up. I don’t know how long you’ve had it, but there is some reason to be concerned. Do you know who might have given it to you?”

I explained how Jennie and I had met and what her life had been during her five years on the road. “She’s lucky that’s all she has.” Dr. Whitney nodded and examined Jennie as she had me. She wrote two prescriptions—antibiotic and birth control. I paid the bills, and we were gone. I made a stop at the nearest CVS to fill the prescriptions and then I took Jennie out for dinner.

She looked at me sadly. “I’m so sorry, Doug.”

“Don’t be. We both knew this was a possibility. It changes nothing. We’ll continue using condoms until we go back in two weeks for your next test. You don’t even have to see Dr. Whitney. They’ll call by Friday and then we’ll go out and celebrate.” I leaned over to kiss her then continued down to Main Street in North Myrtle Beach where I turned left and drove about a half mile to Flynn’s Irish Tavern.
I ordered two Smithwick’s, being careful to pronounce it as they do in Ireland—Smittick’s—two onion soup’s, and two orders of corned beef and cabbage. The food was as delightful as always and the Smithwick’s, a wonderfully smooth Irish red ale, really hit the spot after a long and challenging day. We were stuffed by the time we left an hour later.

Jennie took her DMV written test four weeks later once her identification documents had been received in the mail. She needed a score of eighty percent and earned a ninety-six, getting twenty-four of twenty-five correct. I was happy for her—extremely happy. Now that she had her permit I’d be able to help her get a passport. Once she had that she’d be set for life with her new identity. Even better, she’d tested clean on her second STD test and was two weeks into taking birth control. In another two weeks I could push my bare cock into her. It was something we were looking forward to.