Invisible Girl (An Erotic Romance), Pt. 12

Chapter Twenty-Five

Not surprisingly, Jane slept late the next morning and when she awoke she found herself feeling much better.  Her appointment was at eleven, and it was more than an hour’s drive to the city, so she hurried to get showered and dressed.

When she came downstairs she saw that her mother had put out fruit and muffins for her.  Her mother was already dressed and ready to go, so Jane quickly sat down to eat.  

Next to her place-mat was an envelope with her name on it in her father’s handwriting, and inside it were two twenty-dollar bills.  She looked up questioningly at her mother.

“I told him we were going shopping,” she said,  “and now I guess we’d better.   I have to do a couple of errands after your appointment anyway.  Maybe you’d like to shop by yourself for a while after we have lunch?”

Jane wrinkled her nose and said, “It’d be more fun with you.  Anyway, I don’t know my way around the city.  I’d get lost or something.”

Her mother came over and gave her a quick hug.  “You’re right, it would be more fun that way.  How about if I drop you off somewhere and come back for you?  Maybe a record store?”

Jane thought for a moment and shrugged.  “Sure.”

“Well, you don’t have to decide this minute.  Are you about ready to go?”  

Jane nodded, stuffing the last piece of muffin into her mouth.  “All right, I’ll just go up and get my purse.”  

Her mother had hardly left the room when an idea suddenly struck Jane and she dashed over to one of the kitchen drawers and pulled out a Boston phone book.  

She quickly found what she was looking for and wrote the information down on a scrap of paper and stuffed it into her pocket, along with the money her father had left for her.  Then she hurried to clean up the breakfast remains and pay a last visit to the bathroom.   

When she came out her mother was waiting and they locked up the house and got in the car and drove to Boston.

Jane was more than a little nervous about meeting with the gynecologist, who was an old college friend of her mother’s.  She wondered if the doctor would ask her all kinds of personal questions about her sexual experiences.  She certainly hoped not, especially if her mother was going to be in the room with them.

She needn’t have worried.  Doctor Weissman, a woman about the same age as Jane’s mother, but with prematurely gray hair and a calm, no-nonsense manner, let Jane’s mother stay in the examining room only long enough to fill out the necessary legal paperwork while Jane was being given a cursory physical examination.  Then she shooed her outside to wait.

When they were alone, Doctor Weissman drew up a stool and asked Jane a few questions about her menstrual cycle and gave her a short lecture on preventing disease before explaining how birth-control pills worked and the importance of taking them regularly.  Jane asked how soon they would start working after she began taking them.

“I usually tell people to wait at least seven days.”  Doctor Weissman smiled and continued, “Why?  Are you in a hurry?  When did you have your last period?”  

When Jane explained that she was just finishing, the doctor said, “Well then, you’re lucky: there’s really no chance of your getting pregnant for several days after your period ends.  I’d still recommend using some protection though, just for the sake of disease prevention—unless you’re absolutely sure the boy you’re going to sleep with isn’t sleeping with anyone else.”

Jane smiled timidly and looked down.  “Oh, I’m sure.”

“And I’m assuming you’re not sleeping with anyone else—is that right?”

“Yes.”

“Well, then…  I guess that’s all right.”  

Doctor Weissman looked down thoughtfully for a moment, then looked up at Jane and said, “You know I was friends with your mother in college?”   Jane nodded.  “Well, I was with her when she found out she was pregnant.  She was very upset.  She was already engaged to your father, so that was all right, but it meant she wouldn’t be able to finish college.  Wouldn’t have the career she’d been planning—she wanted to be a journalist, did you know that?”

Jane shook her head slowly, astonished.  She’d never thought of her mother as anything but what she was.

Doctor Weissman leaned forward and patted her on the knee.  “Your mother loves you very much, and I’m sure she’s glad you came along.  But I think she’s always regretted not finishing college.  Not really finding out what she could achieve.”  

She paused, then said, “I’m not telling you this to make you feel bad.  It’s just that I know she’d be heartbroken if the same thing happened to you.  So I want you to promise me that you’ll be very, very careful.”  

Jane nodded and Doctor Weissman scribbled something on a pre***********ion pad, tore off the page and handed it to Jane, saying, “Here’s your pre***********ion…” Then she reached into the pocket of her white lab-coat and handed Jane a card, saying, “…and here’s my office number.  I want you to call me if you have any questions or if there are any problems, all right?  Will you promise me that?”

Jane nodded again, soberly, and said, “Yes.  Thank you,” as she carefully stored the card and pre***********ion in her purse.

They both stood up and the doctor put an arm around Jane’s shoulders as they walked towards the door.  “You know, usually when young women come here for birth control I have a little speech I make about not confusing sex with love…” She looked down at Jane with a considering gaze.  “But I suspect you already know the difference.  Am I right?”

Jane blinked a few times in confusion, never having thought about it, but finally said, “I…think so.”

Doctor Weissman gave Jane’s shoulders a squeeze and said, “I think so too.”  

She walked Jane out to the waiting room and handed her over to her mother, saying, “She’s all set, Eva.”  She gave Jane’s mother a quick hug, saying, “I can’t believe we’re old enough for you to have such a grown-up daughter.”

“Me either,” Jane’s mother replied, smiling—a little sadly, Jane thought.

She mused over what Doctor Weissman had told her as she and her mother made their way back to the car.  

As they drove out of the parking lot, her mother asked her how she’d liked Dr. Weissman and she replied, “She’s nice.  I was afraid she was going to be scary but she wasn’t.”

Her mother nodded.  “It’s better to have a woman doctor for this kind of thing.  I’m so glad she and I kept in touch.”  She was silent for a moment, remembering, then said,  “We had so much fun together in college.  We used to double-date: your father and I and she and Gerry Weissman; she was Rachel Goldner then.”

“She told me you wanted to be a journalist.”

Jane’s mother glanced over at her in surprise.  “She remembered that?  My goodness.  I’d almost forgotten it myself.”  She concentrated on her driving for a while.  “We all had such big plans back then.  I think Rachel’s the only one of us who did what she set out to do.”  

She was silent after that, and Jane sensed the same sadness in her that she’d noticed earlier.

“Mom?  Are you sorry you didn’t finish college?”

Her mother didn’t reply at first, then said quietly, “Sometimes.”

She reached over and took Jane’s hand while she drove, saying, “I wouldn’t have missed having you for anything, honey, you know that.  But sometimes I do wish it had all happened just a little later, that’s all.”

They rode along in silence for a while, lost in their own thoughts.  They stopped at a pharmacy to get Jane’s pre***********ion filled, then went on to a restaurant her mother knew.

After they’d ordered, Jane asked, “Do you have to go to college to be a journalist?”

Her mother looked curiously at her.  “Well…no, not technically.  Why?”

Jane chose her words carefully.  “Well, you’re going to be writing that book with Dad, and that’s kind of like journalism, isn’t it?”

“Yes, I suppose.”

 “Well,” said Jane, leaning forward, “Why can’t you write about other stuff?  Maybe for the Ledger?”   The Ridgeton Ledger was the town’s daily newspaper.

Her mother was taken aback.  “The Ledger?  What on earth would I write about?”

Jane shrugged.  “I dunno, but it comes out every day and they have to fill it up with something.”  She shrugged again and sat back.  “I just thought it might be fun, if you wanted to do it.”  She picked up a roll, tore off a large piece and began to butter it.

Her mother stared thoughtfully into space for a while.  Then she said, “I’d never thought about it.  The Ledger…” Then she shook her head.  “No.  They have full-time reporters, and I’m…”

Jane cut her off, even though she had a bite of bread in her mouth.  “Mom…” She stopped, swallowed and went on,  “You could write about stuff that they don’t.  I mean, they write about politics, but you actually work with the Democrats all the time.  You know what’s going on with them way before the Ledger does, don’t you?”

“Well, that’s true…” her mother replied slowly.  “I wonder…”

 “Do it, Mom.  Why don’t you write a sample story and send it to them?  I’ll bet they’d like it.”

“Hmm…  It’s a local paper…they should be interested in local politics.  Or even local views on national politics…” 

Jane’s mother was drumming her fingers thoughtfully on the table, lost in thought.  Jane watched her silently, holding very still so as not to distract her.  Finally, her mother returned her focus to Jane, shrugged, smiled and said, “Well, it’s worth a try.  Why not?”

Jane smiled back and said, “Yay.”

When they’d finished eating and were on their way out, Jane’s mother asked the woman at the register if there was a record store nearby.  There was one just a couple of blocks away, so Jane said she’d walk there and meet her mother back at the restaurant in an hour or so.  As soon as she’d seen her mother off, however, she hurried back into the restaurant and showed the woman the address she’d copied out of the phone book and asked her how far away it was.

 “Well, that’s a bit of a walk, sweetie, but you could do it, I guess,” she replied.  “Or I could call a taxi for you…”

 “No, that’s all right, I’ll walk,” Jane replied.

The woman gave her directions:  “Go out the door, turn left.  Turn left at the corner, go down two blocks and that’ll be Commonwealth Ave.  Turn right and it should be about six blocks up.”  

Jane thanked her and hurried out.

The directions were good and soon she found herself, perspiring somewhat heavily after a fast walk on a hot day, outside the place she’d been looking for: Ruffles.

This was definitely the place Chrissy had told her about; there was even a mannequin sporting thigh-highs (and not much else) in the display window, along with a lot of other frilly looking sleepwear and underthings.  

Someday, Jane thought, when I have more time, I’m going to come back here…and bring Peter.  Oh god, wouldn’t he love this!

As it was, though, she had to hurry.  She went inside and with the help of a saleswoman quickly found a pair of white stockings similar to the ones Chrissy had worn.  And then, on impulse, she also picked up a lacy crimson bra and panties set.  The party she and Peter were going to would be too informal for the thigh-highs, but she wanted to wear something special for him.

After paying for her purchases, she hurried back the way she’d come and then on to the record store, where she quickly grabbed the latest Beatles album, paid for it and headed back to the restaurant, slipping the little bag from Ruffles inside the larger bag with the record as she did so.  

All this subterfuge wasn’t really necessary—her mother knew she was having sex with Peter, after all—but she didn’t want to flaunt it.

Her mother arrived a few minutes later and together they went shopping for summer clothes.  

Until Peter had come along Jane had never paid much attention to clothing, letting her mother make most of the decisions.  But now each item she held up before her in the department store’s three-way mirrors was seen at least partially through Peter’s eyes. Plus, she would be working this summer and needed to look nice for that.  

She was glad her mother was along—she had great clothing sense and was a great help at finding things that were flattering but still within the bounds of good taste.  

Next Jane helped her mother find clothes for herself.  She had no idea that shopping could be as much fun as this.  When her mother took a break to use the restroom, Jane even picked out some more underwear—not as exotic as what she’d purchased earlier, but things for everyday wear that would still look good if anyone happened to take the rest of her clothes off.  

Thinking about that possibility, she flushed.  Oh god, she couldn’t wait for tomorrow night!

When her mother returned they were ready to leave.  Jane tried to give her mother the money she had left, but her mother waved it away, saying, “No, honey, that’s for buying records and things.  I’ve got this.”  And Jane gave her a hug and said, “Thanks, Mom.”

They were nearly to the main doors when Jane’s mother noticed the office-supplies department, said, “Wait one sec,” and went in. 

Jane saw her pick up something and purchase it, but was too far away to tell what it was.  Her mother returned brandishing a tiny little bag.  “New typewriter ribbon,” she said.

Jane smiled.  “Way to go, Mom.”

Chapter Twenty-Six

By the time Saturday night came around Jane felt ready to burst with anticipation: It was summer; she was going to a party with her boyfriend—and she could make love to him whenever she wanted to.  

She wanted that to be soon.

It was still light out and a perfect June evening when Peter drove up.  Jane had been waiting by the screen door since long before he could have been reasonably expected to arrive, and before the car had even come into view—the moment she heard the sound of tires on gravel—she had called out a quick good-bye to her parents and stepped out onto the porch.  

And when she judged that Peter had driven close enough to see her clearly, she placed her purse at her feet, then put her hands behind her head and struck her favorite pose.  She wanted to be sure he noticed what she was wearing.

It was a red sleeveless cotton dress with white piping around the edges and a row of white buttons down the front, and it fit her closely in all the right places, so that the slim shoulder straps were practically unnecessary.  

She held the pose as Peter pulled up and stopped.  The setting sun bathed her in golden light so rich and warm that she felt as if she were standing on a brightly-lit stage.  Like the one in the Band Room.  Oh god…  

She dropped her arms back to her sides, grabbed her purse, ran down the steps, yanked open the car door and jumped in beside him, eager for the evening to begin.  

They kissed quickly and then Peter drew back to look at her some more.  He gave a low whistle and said, “Hel-lo, gorgeous!  Wow, you look…wow.”

Jane smiled and said, “You look pretty scrumptious yourself.”  

He was wearing his usual tight jeans and a snug-fitting black polo shirt, and she wanted to run her hands all over them.  

They stared at each other hungrily for several seconds.  Then Jane said, “We’d better get going.”  

Peter nodded, tore his eyes away from her and started the car again.  He turned the car around and headed back out of the driveway.  But he drove slowly, turning often to glance at Jane, his gaze full of desire.  She knew exactly what he was feeling, and looked back at him the same way.

It was impossible to wait.

As soon as they were down the hill and out of sight of the house, Jane said, “Stop.”  

Peter understood immediately and not only stopped but switched off the engine.  He barely had time to turn towards her when she leaped at him and covered his mouth with hers.

They kissed with passionate intensity, tongues intertwined, moaning out loud.  Jane had Peter pinned against his seat, her breasts pressed against his chest, her left arm around his neck—and his right arm was around her waist pulling her even more tightly against him.  

Jane felt possessed.  She jerked his shirt loose from his pants and ran her free hand up inside it to feel his coarse hair against her palm.  She found his left nipple and pinched it, eliciting an even louder groan.  She cried, “Oh Peter!” against his open mouth and reached down to begin rubbing the front of his pants.

She couldn’t wait, she couldn’t wait!  She freed her left arm and began frantically undoing his belt and opening his pants.  He helped her by raising his hips and pushing his pants and underwear down to his knees, his fully erect cock springing forth.  She quickly encircled it with one hand, stroking and squeezing it as she leaned forward to kiss him again.

Oh god, she wanted him so badly!  She wanted nothing more than to tear off her panties and straddle him, right now!  

But the one, infinitesimal part of her brain that was still able to think rationally told her to wait: that this was only the beginning, and that they had the whole night to do whatever they wanted with each other…the whole summer!

So instead she tore her mouth away from his and, pressing it to his ear, whispered, “Peter…I want your cock in my mouth!” then turned, scrambled into a kneeling position on the seat beside him, and swooped down to take him into her mouth.

Peter cried out from the sudden sensation of her lips and tongue on him.  There was no teasing sensuality this time, no affectionate play—this was an assault.

The tightness of Jane’s dress was constricting her movement, so without missing a stroke or even slowing down she reached back and undid the bottom five buttons before returning her hands to his cock.  This allowed her to spread her knees apart for better balance, and a good thing, too, because just as she did so she felt Peter’s hand begin to stroke her thigh.  

She was amazed that he still had the presence of mind to do anything at all, considering what she was doing to him, but was not about to complain.  Especially when he reached up and roughly pulled her panties aside and began to stroke her, and then penetrate her with his fingers.

They were both too excited to last long, and they didn’t try.  There would be time for leisurely lovemaking later.