The Shoplifter Chapter Four - Sex Stories

The Shoplifter Chapter Four

... really needed to talk to me, tonight. The last time he called they were back from the club, so my mother had spoken to him. It seemed to her he was an emotional wreck. He told her only that he really needed to talk to me right away. Their conversation was short, but sufficient. It was enough to convince my parents that he was the low down culprit that had “knocked me up” (to use my dad’s words). Of course, in their opinion, I had nothing to do with it at all. Kyle’s guilt was so evident in his repeated attempts to contact me and the urgency he had expressed to mother when he finally got through. So in summary, my parents had put everything together and concluded I was pregnant by Kyle and had a termination scheduled for Friday morning. All the Jamal stuff on my medical records was things I had dreamed up as a smoke screen to hide everything. Fortunately, most of my body was hiding from their view behind the kitchen island. I was wet from my breasts to my knees in a combination that included tons of perspiration. I was a wreck. I sat there freezing and perspiring at the same time. I would like to be able to recall more detail for you, but that is never going to happen. All I remember from that point is my dad continued to rant in anger and his rant was very severe. He used words I had never heard. I was physically sick and ready to up-chuck at any moment. I struggled to just stay balanced on the stool. He ended with two conclusions cast in concrete, One, I was not having any ...

... procedure at the woman’s clinic. The Websters just do not do things like that. Laws prohibited anyone altering my arrangements even though I was a minor…so... they were going to stand with me at the phone in the morning as I called and cancelled my appointment. That was that. I was having the baby—period. Number two, I was to call Kyle and tell him of my revised status as the mother of his baby. I was to arrange a meeting with him and me, my parent and his parents, the very next evening at our house, at seven. The solution was a quick wedding, no alternatives… “Do whatever you need to do. Drop the hammer on him if necessary. Use any threat you need. We want him here; we have got to move fast, this is outrageously embarrassing. Everyone at the club probably knows already, so we will need to cover it up. We will back date everything. We will say you two ran away last month and got married out of town. This will be the major gossip item at the club. If we don’t do this right you will become a spectacle with everyone we know. We need to move fast. A quick wedding and a reception at the club to tell everyone you were married in late April in Las Vegas. This is a fucking mess, Caroline.” I had never known my dad this mad. He was furious. He just went on and on. I did not have to lie—I never had a chance. The calls would be early tomorrow, because dad had to leave for a long meeting at Aronow & Associates and mother was committed to helping with a Make-A-Wish bake sale at nine. That ...