24
The Fullness of Time

The officer cautiously approached the side of the car with a hand resting on his still holstered Glock semi-automatic. In an instant, my mind replayed all the tall tales, horror stories, and accounts of police brutality I’d heard depicted throughout the years of my relatively short lifetime. The fact I was driving a car with a New York license plate didn’t help matters in the least either.

From behind mirrored sunglasses, the officer barked, “License ‘an registration please…”

While secretly wondering why the shades after sundown, I wisely conceded, “Yes, sir.”

He began what I perceived as the skillful art of prodding, “‘An I needs ta see yo inshorance card, if’n ya gots one.”

I started, “Now if I didn’t have…” and then, remembering where I was, simply made note of his name tag prior to respectfully responding, “Yes sir, Officer Overstreet.”

He collected the requested information, before turning toward his cruiser, “Wait here.”

The officer was gone before I could respond…not that he would’ve cared to hear what I had to say anyway. While waiting for him to return, my cell phone began vibrating. I reached to turn it off but remembered the call missed during the time I was at Kimberly’s place. I looked to recognize it was a 212 area code which meant New York.

I answered and requested in one breath, without allowing the caller an opportunity to speak, “Hello…let me call you back in a few minutes.”

“Willie! This Ernestina!” I heard.

The officer was returning, “Okay, but I’m dealing with a situation right now.”

“I know; that’s why I’m calling. Let me talk to the patrolman,” she directed.

How did you know…Who told you…Wait a minute; what the hell is this? How you know…?

“Seriously Willie, you continue underestimating the reach of law enforcement,” she reiterated.

“Listen, I don’t know how you know what’s happening but, how about you call me back in a minute so he won’t think you’re somebody I just snatched out my ass. I’ve got to go!” I insisted before quickly ending the call.

The officer approached, “Mr. LeBeaux, look like we might got a li’l bit of a pro’lem,” he started to explain. “It seems yo vacation gone have ta be sorta cut showt. Ya knows they’s a war’ant out fo ya in New York City?”

“Well, sir, that’s what I wanted to talk to you about. You see…” Just then, my cell phone began buzzing. “Uh… Sir.”

More bluntly, I felt, than was necessary, he asked, “What is it, boy?”

“Well, I started to explain that I was waiting for a call back from my parole officer in New York. You might want to talk with them. That should be the call ringing in now but I don’t want to make any sudden moves or anything,” I said.

Apprehensively, he directed, “Go ‘head, but slow. ‘An keeps yo hands in plain sight.”

“Hello,” I answered. “Yes ma’am Ms. Lady. There’s an officer here right now who was just explaining about the warrant. I told him you, my parole officer, should be calling back about the mix-up in the paperwork.”

Fortunately, the policeman couldn’t hear Ernestina chewing me out about having left New York in the first place, “I should let your ass go to jail and be brought back here in chains!” she snapped. “You’re going to owe me big for this shit…got me sticking my neck out for your ass…again!”

I assured her, “Yes ma’am, I sure would appreciate it if you could explain things to the officer and I’ll be on my way back to New York just as soon as he turns me loose,” before turning toward Officer Overstreet, “Here, sir, she wants to speak to you.”

He took the phone and casually walked to the back of my car for what seemed like an hour before returning. For a moment, I was more concerned about the usage of minutes on my calling plan than the possibility of ending up in jail.

Officer Overstreet approached. “E’erthin seem ta be in order, but you better git yo butt back up ta New York City ‘fore I find out diff’rent. Don’t let mornin find yo ass in my county, ya hear?”

“Yes sir, sir,” I uttered. “I’m on my way back right now.”

I drove the rest of the way to my parents’ place in total silence while thinking of the fact I’d just had two close calls in less than an hour…different circumstances, but still too close for comfort. Things were definitely starting to heat up on the home front.

As I eased up the dirt lane that symbolized our driveway, I saw Tammy seated in one of the two antique straight-back rocking chairs positioned on either side of the front door. She was wearing an old oversized button-down Oxford, sitting with her right leg hanging over one arm of the chair. I couldn’t help noticing the pink lace as I caught a glimpse when reaching the bottom of the steps.

“Did ya find what ya’s look’n fo?” she questioned.

Much more abrasively than I’d realized, “Says who I went looking for anything? Maybe I just needed some fresh air,” I responded.

She assured me with a little attitude, “Well, air ain’t ne’er gone gits no mo fresh than out here ‘way from all the folks ‘an dust in town.”

In effort to intentionally raise suspicion, “That depends on where in town you go,” I smirked. “Some places a lot more inviting than others.”

She cut, “Maybe if’n folk pay more ‘tention, they’d know when the inv’tation been ‘stended,” then added, “Uncle Ed ‘n Aunt Martha told me to tells ya they’s gone over ta Valdosta.”

I rhetorically inquired, only to receive the expected answer, “What in the world for?”

She rationalized, “Don’t know. Ne’er ask; they don’t of’er ta takes me so I figer it ain’t my place ta ask where they’s go’n, or what fo.”

I tried to avoid the deliberate opening, “And the purpose of me knowing that tidbit of information was…?”

Lifting her leg to give me a brief flash of the lace underwear, “Jest so’s ya knows.” She smiled. “Jest so’s ya knows.”

I felt the sweat rolling down my spine and asked, trying to steer clear of the path down which I knew she wanted me to travel, “You already ate?”

Her comment was a little more direct than usual, “Yeah. Yo’s in the ov’n like ya had asked ‘fore ya left,” she instructed.

I simply stated, before opening the screen door, “Thank you, Tammy.”

She winked, while pretending to fan herself with the lapel of the shirt and exposing just enough cleavage to say she hadn’t intended to give a peek, “After ya finish eat’n, I’s think’n ya might wanna have some de-sert.”

Excusing myself into the house I responded, “Yeah, maybe I’ll think about it.”

“Don’t think too long!” She teased.

Once I finished downing some of the best homemade chicken and dumplings I’d ever eaten, my bath water was started before I went into our shared room to get clean socks and underwear. When I returned to the bathroom moments later, Tammy was discovered reclined in the oversized ball and claw tub wearing only the country well water.

Pretending to be unfazed, I commented, “I thought you said you’d already taken a bath.”

“No, I says I done ar’eady ate,” she corrected, “Now I’s think’n ‘bout someth’n sweet, fo de-sert.”

“You know we’re cousins,” I said.

She began to explain, “Not fo real, we ain’t. Uncle Ed ‘n Aunt Martha don’t know I heared ‘em one night they’s on the porch talk’n ‘bout how I’s ‘dopted or someth’n.”

It was honestly difficult to tell whether she was more disappointed or confused. “And you think they’d approve of us just disregarding everything we’ve been told? What did the two of them say?”

“Someth’n ‘bout how I’s born to Aunt Martha second cous’n, ‘an my mom, who really ain’t my mom, but a cous’n n‘sted, but I a’ways calls her my mom, ‘dopted me. So that make Aunt Martha ‘n me third cousins, I think. Any how, it ain’t like we’s no blood kin ‘an if’n we is, then it ain’t close ‘nough ta make no ne’er mind.”

At that point, I was as confused as aroused and crossed to the bathroom window in order to conceal the effect her nakedness was having on me, “Well, they don’t know that you know what you do know, and I’m not supposed to know,” I said.

“So, ya ain’t wont me?” she pretended to sulk.

I managed to get my tongue out of the way long enough to form a complete sentence, “I never said that. I mean, who wouldn’t…want you?”

Tammy stood, stepped out the tub onto the floor, and walked to where I leaned with my back against the wall, water trickling from a flawless body. Placing her wet breasts against my bare chest, she leaned forward and whispered in an eager ear, “Does ya…wont me?”

The words refused to cross already parted lips, “I…I…”

She pressed, while taking both hands and raising my arms to place them against the wall. Tammy then began kissing my chest and moved to the neck and left ear to finally whisper in a voice that sounded like silk on cotton, “Well…does ya?” she questioned, “Does ya?”

The only words I could formulate were, “Ahhh…uhhh… Damn.”

“I’s tak’n that as a yeah,” She asserted. “That’s ‘cause I wonts you, for real.”

An over-anxious heart damn near leaped out my chest with her words being a defibrillator that nearly overwhelmed heightened senses. It wasn’t like I’d never been approached by a pretty female before or even that I hadn’t considered Tammy in a number of situations, but the sensuality she utterly exuded at that very moment totally took me by surprise. It was the closest thing to what I could imagine an out of body experience would feel like; I watched me bend slightly to take her into my arms.

“Ye…Yes,” I murmured. “Yes, I want you. You know I do...always have.”

“Ya knows I’s a’ways been yo’s,” she sighed. “Ev’n from way back when we was chil’ren; I knowed…wonted…’an waited.”

More surprised than anything, I questioned, “You’ve waited?”

“Yeah Will, I’s been wait’n fo ya all these years,” she stated.

I questioned in disbelief, “Are you saying…?”

“Ya gots ta ask?” she prodded.

I let go a nervous sigh, “You’re a…a…?”

Tammy finished my thought, “A vurgin.”

I nervously questioned, “Are you sure about this?”

She half seriously responded, “What…that I ain’t ne’er done it b’fore?”

“No,” I said. “That part I know you’re certain of. Are you sure you want me to be the one you…you know?”

“Will,” she whispered.

“Yes,” I answered.

“I knows ya done this b’fore,” she commented.

“Yes, it’s no secret I have,” I admitted.

“Does ya use’ly ask s’many dog-gone quest’ons?”

I couldn’t find the words, “Well…no. But I don’t normally…well, I’ve never…”

Placing her index finger to my lips, Tammy insisted, “Shhhhh, ya talks too much.”

I was wrestling with the morality of the whole issue, “But I just want you to understand…”

Her finger was, again to my lips, “Shhhhh,” she said. “I un’erstands alls I needs ta know.”

How we got from the bathroom to the bedroom was a mystery to me. The next thing I knew, we were on the bed with moonlight from the window perfectly encasing Tammy’s flawless form. Her kisses, passionate…body, inviting. I was captivated by the look in her eyes in response to the soft touch of my lips over succulent flesh, seasoned with lilac-scented bath oil. She sighed, tensed, moaned and released with every gentle caress. Her body stiffened when I moved to a point below her navel.

“Relax,” I whispered.

She instinctively questioned my motives, “What…is…ya do’n?”

“Relax and enjoy,” I urged.

Moments later she shrieked quietly, My body moved to meet hers. “Ooooh,” she grimaced as I eventually found that sacred place.

I forced the question, knowing there could only be one acceptable answer, “You want me to stop?”

Tammy commented while passing the protection she’d obviously found in the console of my car, “Ya don’t wants ta stop.”

Applying the personalized shield, I all but pleaded, “You want…me…your first time?”

“Ya talk’n a’gin,” she said. “Too much. Jest do what ya does ‘an let me d’cide if’n I likes it…now hesh up, ‘an does what it is ya does. I wonts it ta be da most wond’rful pain I e’er done felt.”

Moving into position, “Invitation accepted,” I said.

Forty minutes later found me breathless, exhausted, and Tammy unusually rejuvenated. “Ya ain’t gots ta stop,” she said.

I gasped, in utter disbelief, “Yes…I do.”

“But I’s need’n more,” she pleaded.

“What you need, sweetheart, are some formed plastics and a few C-cell batteries,” I half-joked.

She was seeking clarification, “Some what? I ain’t und’rstand’n.”

“Never mind. You shouldn’t understand,” I said.

“What I needs wit bat’ries?” she insisted.

I couldn’t bring myself to be annoyed at her innocence, “Never mind, sweetness. Let it go.”

In a more sincere tone, she asked, “What…I’s done did someth’n wrong?”

I quickly responded, to dismiss her concern, “Tammy, just let it go…it was nothing. You didn’t do anything. At least, not wrong anyway.”