The Awaking

For me, it started the day after my 15th birthday.

I had suffered through the embarrassing ordeal of having my mother be one of my teachers in the spring semester.  The ending of the school year trumpeted, for me the end of school, the beginning of summer which started of my celebrated birthday.  Despite my parents, both educators in the local school system, being nearly over bearing and puritanically conservative people, they were very considerate when they came to throwing my birthdays.

However, it is at that time when I started to be aware of issues, like that what passed as “conservative” opinion in the house I grew up in was really just bigoted monger-ing.  I had learned that individuals of color, regardless of ability seldom scored as well as other Caucasian and Asian students in my parents classes.  They both were considered hard teachers, but over the years, one would hear things at the house and the rumors in halls at school.

So, the last semester before my 15th birthday, I did a little experiment.  Having been a top student, possessing exceptional study skills as is typical with any one that has teachers as parents, I knew that the I would produce an “A” paper.  I knew a girl from an African American family that was a nice gal, but seldom ever received a grade higher than a “B,” She was typically upset with the grades, which previously I put down to seething jealousy and lesser abilities.  But, I still had to know.  So, I switched papers with her.  I had put the most work that I have ever done on any report that I had ever worked on in school, and knew it would finish the year for me with straight A’s.

The gal, Tina, agreed to do so.  Unfortunately, my fears were confirmed.  Tina received an “C+” and I received my typical “A.”  I couldn’t recall being more confused and disappointed in how unfair that it was.  I walked around in a shocked state through the last two days of school and the through the following week to my birthday.  I didn’t even find solace in running all day on the tennis courts as I had, even two weeks earlier.

So, that following Monday, when educators are still at school, I was home alone, looking at the nifty birthday gifts, which included the Michael Jackson’s Thriller Album.  I remember opening that and seeing the disapproval in my mothers eyes.  It was the greatest album then and every one wanted it and a friend had got it for me.  So, dressing in a tennis skirt, tee shirt, and bobbie socks, I grabbed my Prince racket bag that contained all my tennis equipment and rode my bike to the courts to try to but this whole matter behind me again.

It was then I decided that I would peddle by Tina’s house, which was really out of the way, but I felt that I had to apologize to her for my family and the unfortunate discoveries I had made.  Even though I was barely past five feet in height, the tennis and bike riding had made my 110 pounds agreeable to my tennis outfits.  I had “discovered” what boys liked at a dance during the fall semester for Homecoming.  I was not impressed with the jittery and uncertain way that they seemed to all possess in abundance.

So, in the hot morning, I had no idea as to what I was really going to say when I got there.  But when I did arrive and learned that Tina had already left for one of a couple band camps that she would be at this summer (she being a really talented musician, something that I wasn’t) from her father, who was home for a while the local plant shut down for two weeks of maintenance and upkeep.  Her father, it struck me was not as old as my parents, and after some cajoling from him, I explained why I was there.

It turned out that he recalled my mother, who he described as a bitch, and knew all along that she didn’t like blacks.  The name calling of my mother was a cold bucket of water in my face.  Here was a man calling my mother a bitch with out a second thought.  It turned out that he had my mother for a teacher shortly after his parents, Tina’s grand parents, moved to the area.  He too had been a good student before, but couldn’t ever get higher than a “B-“ Hr recalled that he was blistered good when he brought those grades home by his father.  After years of substandard grades, they just learned that grades for blacks from my mother were never going to be any higher.  My mother was a bigoted racist it turned out.

I nearly broke in to tears.  I didn’t want to hear it, but already knew it.  Tommie, as he wanted to be called, had not gotten the scholarships he needed to get into a more prestigious college and settled for the community college, where he did receive better grades, but a diploma from the local community college didn’t carry the weight of a more reputable college did.  As a result, for the last 15 years, he had been scratching out a living at the local wood mill.  You could see that his lot I life wasn’t what he had planned and the welling of memories only served to make him more bitter.

His commanding presence was immense.  I had been aware that Tina had lost her mother in a car accident along with her surviving grandfather on a trip back to see family out of state.  As the accident happened away from the town, the local press barely paid any attention and this man was supporting his family on his own.  Two more children, both younger than Tina, would yet experience the set backs of veiled racism in the schools, and much latter, life in general.

I was overwhelmed with regret and needed to make amends for the difficulties that my parents had caused him.  I said as much.

“Well now girlie, I can hardly have the beating that my pa used to hand out because of the grades I received taken back,” he smirked.

“No, you’re right, you can’t.  My mom should have gotten the spankings instead,” I blurted out.  “But I can try to make it up for you.  I can cook and clean for you and take care of your other daughters when you return to work.”

“The two youngens have gone to their aunts for part of the summer.  My wife’s sister spends time with them as a surrogate mother for the two.  They have not yet gotten past their momma’s passing.”  He added reverently. “So, unfortunately, aside from a little cleaning for the next two weeks, there isn’t much you can do.”

But I could see that his mind was racing.  Out of some where in my mind, I said quickly, “how about you take the spankings that my mom should have received and that you got out on me?” I quickly, “please.”

“I don’t think that would be the best solution and not really enough to make up for things.” he chided gently.

“Please, I will do what ever I have to make for everything.  I swear,” I said, nearly pleading with him.                

“I don’t think that you know what you are actually offering sweetie.” He stated, but it came out as a question.

“Yes I do, I really do.” I said, not really knowing what I offered, being swept away by the tides of emotions.

“Are you serious?” he asked incredulously.

“Yes I am!” I responded emphatically.

“So, you are willing to be a servant for me?”

“Yes I am!” I responded again.

“Well, today I will need to watch you clean the dishes.” he said.

He motioned over to the sink.  There were only a couple dishes in the basin.  He sat in a chair at the table in the kitchen as I walked over to the sink.  I felt a wonderful ease as I ran the water and knew that he was watching me in my skirt from behind.  My plump little butt bulging the tennis skirt out.  I thought quickly that I had wished that I hadn’t worn the liner panties with them.  Then I could give him a little tease.

In short order I finished the washing the dishes, dried them and put them away slowly.  When I turned to him, he appeared to have appreciated my efforts to sway a little while I was at the sink and the bending that I did to put the dishes away.  However, he said in a flat tone, “if you come back tomorrow, I will know that you are serious about being a good little girl and maybe even a good little slave.  There will be a test if you decide to come back and even the ledger, so to speak, with the difficulty and disappointment that your mother caused.”  With that, he politely ushered me out the rear door where my bicycle was and gave me a stinking swat on my behind as he said, “I’ll look forwards to seeing you here, that is if you are serious.”

The ride back to my house was an ordeal of pleasure.  The bicycle smile was definitely at work.  I was wet thinking about the swat and the opportunity to begin making things up for him and his daughters.  I knew that I would gladly do what ever he wanted.  The wetness all over my thighs and seat was all the proof I needed.  The following morning couldn’t come quickly enough.

The remainder of the day was terrible.  The heat was stifling in my house.  Even though Tina’s family didn’t have central air, the air their seemed so rich and caused such a nice swelter.  The heat in this house, where I felt as if I was a stranger was intolerable.  Unfortunately, my parents insisted that using central air during the mid day before July 4th was not very thrifty.  Now, with nothing in my mind but hiding the frustration of waiting for the sun to go down I tried to read while the sweat tricked over my back under my tee shirt and under the bra I had on.  I was only reading every other word of a magazine article as my mind races with concerns and desires.

I wanted to not see my mother that evening but as the afternoon gave way to the early evening, dinner was being prepared, I would.  There was not getting around that.  That my mother didn’t come up to say that she was home was a little odd, and with all that my mind had considered, her knowing was a possibility.  I had no idea how.  Maybe some one had seen me and my mother drew a conclusion, which in this case was the right one, if not only premature. 

I was certain that my plan to rectify my family’s covert racism would be obvious to them and I would be in for a level of trouble that I had not encountered before.  However, and much to my real surprise, it was apparent that they were unaware.  There would be no lecture.  Tina’s father hadn’t called to tell her mother what was in the offering.  I would be free to actually do what I really had need to do.  Until then, I hadn’t recalled that he said that there would be a “test.”  What sort of test did he have in mind?

I had briefly enjoyed the dinner when I realized that my secret was safe, but as I put away dishes for a second time today, my mind started to wonder and the remaining evening’s chores were completed with a minimal of awareness.  Time slid by and darkness fell as I considered as to what he meant as a “test.”  Surely I wasn’t going to have to write a paper for him to grade?  Sleep was, that night, difficult and seemed only fitful when it did come.

Not realizing it, I slept until nearly mid-morning.  Evidently my night passions had left me more tired than I could recall.  I must have had some dream in which I was interacting with it as the sheets were all a jumble.  As I would normally, I slept in panties and a tank top.  The panties I wore were still wet, soiled with my passions in a dream that I couldn’t recall having.  I wasn’t a virgin.  I had lost that so-called innocence the year before after a football game to one of the senior players at a victory celebration.

Even though I seemed to have avoided a reputation as an “easy gal,” afterwards, I tended to enjoy making some of the boys feel good by rewarding them orally.  I had been with three other boys since the first time.  I didn’t see the issue with why girls didn’t like doing it.  I knew that I did.  But then again, I didn’t throw myself at the boys.  I didn’t have to.  It might have been that the boys I went to school with were intimidated by my parents, both being educators.  It might have been also that I started to develop a little earlier than some of the other gals and was nearly a C-cup already.

While this was a boon in some more obvious areas, It was going to prevent me from ever becoming a better tennis player or playing at a higher level.  I had to face it, even with the tightest sports bra, if I kept developing, the flopping around was going to be a distraction in more than one way.  It also would ruin my form as I couldn’t get my arms in to the right angle for my back hand.  So, bouncing all over and playing from only one side of the court, I had resigned myself to the glass ceiling that I was going to run into.  Small breasted gals always seem to be the only players that made it past college, with the rare exceptions of some of the Eastern European players, but they tended to be on the professional stage briefly.  One notable exception from the American shores easily comes to mind, but she hits the ball hard then all but the top men players, which I don’t.

But my lovely C-cups opened new doors for me.  Even only barely at 5'2" ( I always say that I am 5'3" as I round up) I weigh less than 100 lbs, though only just barely.  So, I was a little lighter and shorter than all of my peers.  Though I knew that I was only was going to grow from this point on in my life was outwards, not upwards.  Though, it wasn’t that bad of a thing.  Being well developed on a small frame with a tight narrow behind and thin, if not really toned legs, was not a bad hand to be dealt, even if it meant not being the tennis star that I dreamt all those years for. 

I noticed this for the first time as I completed my shower and walked back to my bedroom nude.  Only a towel wrapped up on my head to dry my hair.  I watched myself in the mirror.  My lean and nubile body, well tanned, looked back at me.  I decided then, I was so eager to set things right yesterday for all the mis-deeds my mother had done unto others, that what I could really give him was my body.  It certainly caused eyes to watch, heads to turn and barely audible whistles of approval to be generated.  Why not give him this body in return as payment.  I wouldn’t be just a servant or slave and tease him a little like I did yesterday.

The morning heat was no where near the level that it would be in the afternoon, but between the hot water shower and the heat in the air, I was starting to perspire and I watched how a bead of water started just below my neck as it trailed its way down, slowly rolling down the center of my  chest as it trailed slightly to the left to graze and trickle the inner part of my left breast, tickling, causing me to shiver, which shook it further down on to my flat, toned tummy.  There is took an agonizingly long time to watch trailed ever further downward until it was lost in the tangle of my trimmed hairs just above my treasure.  The one thing that I owned.  The one thing that I would really give.       

I knew that I was to be a little naughty today.  So, I found a pair of high-waist, what we gals called, whale tail thongs.  I had to keep them hidden from my mother for obvious reasons.  But I had them on, another tennis skirt with out the liner.  A thin bra and a typical tee shirt.  In case I was stopped, I grabbed my tennis gear and ran down the stairs outside, forgetting even to grab a bite to eat ( I had power bars in the bag that I would always munch on).  I rode on to go meet my future.

(Part 2 to come)