Being Don Being Donny - Chapter Two

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Miss Morgan stayed late into the evening. I was in heaven. We sat in the living room for a time, with my head nestled up against her shoulder, my face within an inch of her warm bosom. We talked for over an hour about my parents, friends, and neighbors, and what I should do about school, come the fall. Again, I swear, she was a lot like my mom. She had the same warm, caring disposition. Mom was more attentive to my needs than her own. I wanted to tell Miss Morgan that she reminded me, but then, I may have insulted her. Mom was quite heavy, while Miss Morgan’s body was, well, not skinny no, voluptuous, yeah, voluptuous.

She ran a hand through my straggly hair, commenting on how long it was. After I got over blushing, I explained that I tried cutting my hair myself once to save money, but did such a rotten job, dad had to finish what I had started. I ended up with a crew cut, which I hated. It made my face look fatter and my ears stick out.

Since then, I just let it grow out, so dad wouldn’t scalp me again, combing all the hair at my temples back over my ears.

"So, you prefer your hair long like this, eh Donny?"

"It’s okay. It’s better than the crew cut. My ears don’t look so big. I’d like to get it styled better, but I can’t waste any money, especially now, with dad sick."

"I’m glad you realize your father’s condition is an illness. It isn’t entirely his fault: the drinking. People under stress use what they feel works Donny, and alcohol can help an adult person put aside worries when used in moderation. That’s why we have to put the blame on the alcohol, not your father. After dinner, I want you to help me find all the remaining alcohol in the house, so we can get rid of it to remove temptation when your father returns.

Besides, if we demonstrate to the social worker from the county that there is little cause to worry in the way of temptations available for you to misuse, we probably can relieve her very nervous attitude toward your being alone here. She has a job to protect. Let’s make it easy for her. Shall We?"

"I’m all for that idea. She was gonna make me go to some orphanage if you didn’t step forward to agree to look in on me, daily. Then what would have happened? With no one here to keep an eye on things, someone can break in and steal the only things of value dad and I have left. I’m sorry to be such a bother to you."

"Donny, I tried to explain something to you earlier. It’s very involved, and I tried to justify some things, so you’d understand better. It was a mistake. It was a good idea, but premature. For now, I want you to trust that my volunteering is as much for my benefit as it is for yours. I didn’t do it for your sake alone. I need someone to care for in my life. I’ve been on my own and alone for a long time now, too long!"

"Alone? How can someone so pretty be alone? There have to be ‘tons’ of guys out there jumping for the chance to ask you for a date. If I was a little older and could take you out, I’d jump at the chance. You’re really pretty!"

"I’m not keen on starting a love relationship at the present time, Donny. You’ll understand more about what men want, as you get older. Men my age expect a woman that looks like me to do more than just kiss them if they go out on a date. You’re coming into the age now of discovery. Young men, your age start to feel the urge to explore the sensations your body is demanding. I saw how you reacted at the counter earlier. I know what your inner feelings toward me are right now. I need a different kind of love, right now: family love, not that kind of love."

"Why don’t you want a guy you can really like, you know, the kind that wants to have a family, settle down with one woman, and get married?"

"I didn’t have many choices when I was your age. When I got a break and was able to go to college, I decided to become a lawyer and start a career. Men feel funny about girls with ambition. They want a girl to stay home, raise kids, and put the food out on the table every night when they get home. They want to be the ‘breadwinner’. They don’t want to compete for that role with an educated woman like me. I don’t want a guy that thinks like that. I need someone who is willing to share the household chores. Until I find someone like that, I’ll continue to live by myself. Having a man of my own to look after isn’t extremely important to me."

"I’ll share the chores. Heck, I do them all now, anyway. You can look after me!"

"Fine, you can be the man I’ll look after, but I’ll continue to look after you as a son until your dad is well. Don’t expect me to share any of your household chores here. I have a place of my own to keep straight."

"I’ll share those chores too, in exchange for your looking in on me. It’s the least I can do, ma’am. I can clean, do laundry, even cook for you, if you show me how."

"You’ll be busy for at least your senior year of high school before long. Getting your high school diploma will be your first priority. With this house to take care of, you won’t have enough time to look after one another. Besides, your dad expects you to get a part-time job to help out with the expenses. We don’t know when he’ll be able to return to work, do we?"

We went back to the kitchen and continued talking while she showed me how to cook and prepare the fresh foods she bought instead of canned goods. That was the best meal I had in a long time. By the time we finished clearing the dishes, it was late. I asked her if she wanted to stay and watch the late news, but she begged off. We talked over coffee, instead. She was feeling me out about how we were going to meet the county’s requirements on a regular basis.

She said she’d be back in the morning after she ran some errands. She wanted to drive me over to the hospital to visit dad. After she left, I watched a late movie and went to bed. I was too tired to remember to do what I had planned earlier. If I did, I wouldn’t have used her image for inspiration, as I planned. It would be like using an image of an older sister if I had one. That wouldn’t be right.

I woke to the phone ringing. It was late. Miss Morgan was upset. She was on her way and expected me to make coffee. She was bringing breakfast but made it clear, she expected me to be up and have breakfast ready for her in the future, with the foods she wanted, instead of the ‘fat pills’ I planned on. That’s what she called chocolate donuts. She arrived just as the coffee was ready.

We planned out the day. She had a checklist with her that she must have set up after she left the night before. We went over it, making changes to compensate for the things I wanted to do that she didn’t know about. I usually did the laundry on Saturday mornings, changing loads while I cut the grass. She insisted on our going to the hospital first. No problem, I told her I’d do the laundry and lawn later after she left for the day. She had other plans. She wanted to take an inventory of all the clothes we had, to see what needed mending, replacement, or additions.

On the way to the hospital, we reviewed my new daily schedule, to make sure it included everything. Seeing dad was number one on the list until school would start. She even had my meals planned, snacks and all. Then, she insisted that I had to start exercising, to get rid of some of my excess weight. That wasn’t good. I shrunk back into the car seat and grumbled.

"You have to exercise, Donny! If you expect to eat heartily, you need to burn it off! Otherwise, you’ll continue to be plump!"

Plump? Guys aren’t plump! "Aw, who needs it?"

"You do! If you drop a few pounds, you’ll find a job easier. You told me no one wants to hire a chubby kid. In fact, your posture already suffers from the extra load you are carrying. I’ll bet you’ll need a whole new wardrobe in smaller sizes before you return to school. Think of it, Donny. Girls will look twice if you drop a size or two. Bad habits creep up on you. It’s important to offset them with good habits. You need to exercise. I’ll help. I’ll set up a routine for you."

We didn’t get to see dad. We talked to a doctor. Dad had somehow snuck out of the hospital and got loaded while Miss Morgan was over last night. I thought I had heard some noise out in the yard. It must have been dad, but he never tried to come into the house while she was there. Some bar called the police to pick him up after he caused trouble. They refused to serve him any more liquor after he got too drunk. He became abusive to other customers, mooching drinks.

Dad would have to be put into a secure section of the detox unit. The doctors already did it, saying he was an obvious threat to himself. The police verified his condition when they returned him. He admitted being under medical supervision when they were going to put him in the ‘drunk tank’ at the city jail. They returned him to the hospital instead. God knows what might have happened if he didn’t admit he was an alcoholic in recovery. Miss Morgan signed some papers, as my guardian, attesting to the doctors’ notification of next of kin.

On the way back home, Miss Morgan was very quiet. When we got to the house, she searched everywhere for booze, with my help. We found bottles stashed in the basement, in the rafters, in the small garage out back, and all over dad’s bedroom, even in the attic. Most of them were empty, but not all. They were after she poured everything down the drain of the kitchen sink and rinsed out the sink.

We filled a garbage can with empty bottles. I didn’t realize how much booze dad planted all over the house. He wasn’t taking any chances that he’d run out if and when the liquor stores were closed. That’s when I realized just how bad his drinking was. Before that, I thought he was in control. Obviously, he wasn’t.

We drove over to Miss Morgan’s apartment. She wasn’t talking much like she was deep in thought. I kept my mouth shut. I didn’t want to discuss it. If I did, I’d be criticizing my own father. It isn’t right for a kid like me, with problems of his own to point a finger at a parent and pass judgment.

Finally, after a long time, sitting in her kitchen over coffee, she looked at me with a tear in her eye. "We have to make some changes, Donny. We have to close up your house. We may have to sell it to help pay the cost of your dad’s care."

"But it’s my house, too."

"Yes, that’s true. Your mom left you her interest in her will. It’s in trust until you are old enough to own the real property outright. I know, because I’m the trustee. It won’t be easy. I will be able to save your interest, maybe your dad’s. Your dad is incompetent for the time being. The papers your mom drew up a few years ago took what’s happening now into consideration. Creditors can attach his interest for his debts, but they won’t be able to break the trust and evict you, as long as you can remain self-cognizant. Don’t worry about the legal mumbo jumbo. I think it will be best for you to stay here with me for a few days."

"I’d rather stay at my house if you don’t mind, Miss Morgan. Mom would want me to. I have to take care of it while Dad is sick. I can’t stay here. What will happen if it stays vacant too long? The county social worker will blame me."

"What if your dad gets out again and comes home in an irrational state of mind, in search of the liquor he stashed away? What will he do if he discovers we got rid of it? He’ll blame you, Donny. I don’t want to see the two of you bitterly fight. You’ll give him money to buy liquor if that happens. Won’t you?"

"I suppose if I don’t have another choice."

"I know you would. I would, too. You couldn’t stand by to watch your dad suffer from withdrawal. We have to do what is right and best for him. We can’t let him have a place to run to if he sneaks out again. Sooner or later, he’s going to be able to get released. When he first gains freedom, he’ll head for his liquor stash.

The only way to prevent that from happening, is to completely change the place, so he won’t even recognize it as his safe haven, his prime resource, or we can sell it to buy something else with your half, and pay off creditors with his half."

"I don’t want to sell. It was mom’s house. Dad was seldom there. He was always on the road. He didn’t drink when he was out on the road working. Once he gets back to work,"

"I don’t think that will happen. They won’t give him his sales position back. That’s water over the dam. Someone else took the job over. He’d have to start all over.

That’s a tough assignment, starting from scratch, with a ‘monkey on his back.

He’d be better off going into some other line of work, a complete career change, without the stress, like I did. We have to think this out clearly, Donny. You have to spend the night here for a while. It’ll be safer until we figure out what to do."

"What did you do before you were a lawyer, Miss Morgan?"

"Let’s say I was in sales. It isn’t important. That’s over."

I agreed to spend a week or so at her place. I had to sleep in the cotton pajamas she let me borrow that first night. I got a woodie; thinking that her body was in it before mine. I got off in the bathroom, before going to bed. I didn’t want her to see the effect her pajamas had on me. I woke up halfway through the night with a woodie, dreaming about wearing in pajamas and filling them out the way she would. I had to sneak into the john without her seeing me and whack off again. Wow, was I hot! I did the same thing in the morning.

The next day, a Sunday, we went back and I packed up some of my clothes. We cleaned out the fridge and locked up. I didn’t use pajamas, normally. I didn’t tell her until that night. She would have stopped at a store to buy me some. I wanted to wear hers again to see if they’d caused the reaction they did the night before.

We went to a bookstore. She bought me some books on the subject of alcoholics and how to deal with the problem if a family member is an alcoholic. She bought a few books for herself, too. I saw parts of some of the titles. She wanted to read about adoptions, teen psychology, and puberty. Apparently, she decided she had made a long-term commitment, not a temporary arrangement until dad was out of the woods and working again.

We spent the afternoon reading. I got a crash education on alcoholism. I found out I had known nothing, learned little, and had a lot of learning to do to be of any help to dad. We decided that until school started, we’d meet each morning over breakfast; plan the day’s activity and exercise schedule, and have a study period to glean what we could from books and other resources.

She showed me her computer, and how to log on. She had a ton of programs on law, and her "blotter" or "desktop" made access to several things easy. We spent the evening on the computer playing games. She was surprised that I didn’t have a computer. We couldn’t afford one, so the only savvy I had was from using the ones in the school’s computer lab. She promised to correct that.

I wondered what I’d have done if she didn’t jump in to bail me out. I was getting used to being with her more and more.

Before retiring, she told me it wasn’t proper for me not to wear pajamas while I was visiting someone. She presented me with another pair of pajamas, instead of the cotton ones I’d worn the night before. The pale pastel cloth looked weird.

"What kind of cloth is this? They’re all wrinkled funny."

"They’re a textured cotton, Donny. The wrinkles are called crepe. The texture is woven in to help the pajamas feel more comfortable. It’s the only other pair of plain pajamas I have for you to use. Try them. If you like them, we’ll go shopping to find you some of your own with the same texture. What did you wear at night at the camp you attended?"

"Swim trunks, boxer style. Other kids did, too."

"Hmm! I see. I suppose that would work fine. Funny. I never thought of that. Did you bring a pair of swim trunks with you?"

"No, I forgot. I was worried about leaving the house empty and didn’t think of it." I was fidgeting. Lying about the swim trucks made me nervous.

"Did you conveniently forget the swim trunks because you wanted to wear a pair of MY pajamas again, Donny?"

"I don’t ever wear pajamas. I couldn’t remember to pack pajamas I don’t have."

"I was talking about bringing your swim trunks, Donny. You remembered to wear them at camp. Be honest, why didn’t you bring them?"

"Okay. I guess I’m a lousy liar. You already know. I wanted to wear the ones that I wore last night again. Wearing them gave me chills and Goosebumps because they were yours." She broke out into laughter. I turned ten shades of red.

"I hope you remembered to bring undershorts, Donny. You’ll be wanting to wear my panties, next. Ha! Ha! Ha! How sweet! You’re the first man to try to get into my panties in a long time. Don’t let your hopes get up too high, young man. Then again, you did offer to do my laundry for me. Let me think." She watched me get redder. I wasn’t thinking about her underwear when I offered to do chores for her. I really didn’t, but she was making it sound as if I wanted to peek at her stuff. If I had known she think that, I wouldn’t have been so eager to offer.

"You’re bound to come across some of my under things, sooner or later, Donny.

I don’t always remember to clean up after myself in the bathroom when I’m in a hurry. There is only one bathroom in the apartment, so tell me. What will you do if you see some of my underwear in there?" She pointed to the bathroom, the bathroom where I wanked off three times already

"I dunno. I used to see my mom. They didn’t bother me."

"I don’t think that’s the same thing, Donny. I think my things DO bother you, a lot! Otherwise, you wouldn’t want to wear them. Tell me, was it the feel of the cloth, the fact that a woman wore them, or is it because they’re mine?"

"I" She was teasing me and enjoyed doing it. I wanted to cry.

She reached out across the table and touched the back of my hand. "All men like the feel of women’s things. That’s why women wear pretty things, to get men all excited. Don’t worry about it. You’re okay, Donny. Nothing is wrong with wanting to feel things that are nice. Some men like it so much; they wear satin or nylon underwear, themselves. Maybe you’re one of them. There are several brands made for men. We’ll find out. I’ll get you some of your own."

"No, don’t! You’ll know." I stopped. I said too much.

"What will I know, Donny? I’ll know my undies excite you? Too late! I know that already. If they didn’t excite you, I might be worried. If you don’t want to feel that way, something is wrong. It’s perfectly normal for a young boy to experiment. I’ll be glad to help when the time comes. It’s better for you to get it off of your chest and get used to the sight and feel of unmentionables. Otherwise, you will never stop undressing me with your eyes. You’ve been doing it since the day we met."

"I’m sorry, ma’am. I don’t mean to do it, but I can’t help it. You’re the only pretty woman I ever got close enough to being with one on one. Mom was different. I don’t know how to stop myself from thinking about the way you look and move."

"I’m not sure I want you to stop, Donny. It is kind of fun. I like being admired. Call it vanity if you’d like, but I don’t feel threatened when you secretly undress me with your eyes. I need someone’s affirmation that I look nice as much as any woman. As long as we keep your interest in my body within proper limits, we will both enjoy your innocent attention to my femininity. We’ll cultivate it properly, with some discretion so we won’t need to be embarrassed about it. If matters get out of hand, I’ll try to let you know. You can’t be lusting after my body when others can see. That’ll get us both into trouble. We don’t want that to happen, do we?"

"No, I guess not. What would people think?"

"Exactly! Let’s make a deal. The next time we’re alone together, and I notice that you are excited; I don’t want you to run off to hide your reaction. I want you to be candid when I ask you about the way you feel about me being close to you in private. We can use your interest in my body to practice dealing with involuntary compulsive attraction. It may help us to understand how a normal, mature person can become addicted to a substance, such as alcohol. Deal?"

"Really? You don’t mind?"

"Not the way you do it. You are usually polite and complimentary when you gaze at my bosom. When I walk, you check my legs and hips like other men, but your look is critical, not lustful. It seems you search to find a flaw, and don’t. My ego is bolstered and my mood improves when you smile at the way my calves move when I walk up a flight of stairs. Didn’t you think I noticed you looking?"

"Gee! I was trying not to be obvious. I probably looked like a silly kid, drooling."

"Not at all. You were a perfect gentleman. I wasn’t making fun of you earlier when I laughed. The thought entered my mind that you couldn’t help yourself, any more than your dad can help to need liquor to wash away his sorrow over his loss of your mom. I only laughed because we’re both sensitive to your dad’s addiction, and not our own. I wondered how to let you know that I know you were watching. I thought you’d like to know the similarity between our own actions and your dad’s. If we’re not careful, your need can be just like his.

You probably look at the girls in school and the girls cruising the malls the same way. They notice. They don’t show it, but you can, believe me, they notice. They notice every guy whose head follows as they pass. Do you think girls spend so much time in the malls to spend money? They go to the malls to strut their stuff!

Wearing pretty clothes and being lusted after is addictive as alcohol. Some girls can’t help themselves. All they think about is the way they look. We two can talk about that kind of need. It’s called compulsive desire. We can discover ways to deal with it. You could use some encouragement to improve your interest in the way you look. We’ll use our talks to improve your self-pride in how you look.

That’s enough for now. In the morning, I want a full report on how those pajamas feel against your skin. You might as well feel comfy and learn something during your visit with me. We’ll work it in with dealing with your dad’s problem.