FROM FALL INTO WINTER... (Part 29e)

Right after Janie went over to talk to the man, Elle, who had been holding my hand, squeezed it. I turned to look at her and she had her eyes closed and teeth clenched. It only lasted for a few seconds. She then whispered that she needed to get home. We started while Janie was still talking to the man but only made a few steps before she again squeezed my hand and stopped. I stopped too. Within seconds I head the sound of puddling liquid. I looked at Elle's face and it was basically expressionless as she was just staring straight ahead. I just stood there, holding her hand. When Janie finally turned and walked back towards us Elle whispered to me not to move. We stayed there until we saw the ambulance leave. After all the cars had left we started, very slowly, back towards Elle’s house. I, again, took notice of the washline. Even though we’d lost a good part of the afternoon I knew there was still at least few hours before Elle’s parents would be home. That in itself excited me. I just assumed that Janie would head on home but she ended up following Elle and I up the walk to the house. I really wanted to yell at her, telling her to go on home, but I didn’t. Once inside Elle excused herself and went upstairs. That made me even madder at Janie. I’d hoped to at least get to rub Elle’s wet panties and maybe even get to see them. After all, I was pretty sure that she’d put on a pair of the heavy cotton for my benefit. After a few minutes I heard the inevitable sound of the toilet flushing and was a bit depressed. Just before Elle came downstairs the phone rang. It was Janie’s grandmother wanting to know the news about the ambulance. Janie took that as a hint to head for home, only it was about 10 minutes too late for me.

After Elle reappeared she got the idea to call her mother to tell her about the “excitement” and to see if she couldn’t find out what had gone on. Elle’s father was a member of the volunteer Fire Department and she had recognized some of the men who’d been at the site. Once she finished with that I hoped we could get into something much more personal. We did make it as far as the daybed/sofa before the phone rang again. Elle answered it and I heard her let out a sort of alarmed cry. (The only phone was in the kitchen and I couldn’t see her from the front room.) I jumped up and ran back to where she was. The look on her face was of pure shock. She wasn’t talking at all, just staring at the floor with her eyes wide open. I remember calling her name and when she didn’t respond, took the phone from her. There was no one on the line. I actaully had to shake her by the shoulders to get her to respond.

The “accident” just down the road was anything but an accident. Barbara’s father had committed suicide by hanging himself in the garage. I was shocked as well but nowhere near as much as Elle. I’d been exposed to death when my one grandmother had died but no one in Elle’s family had died since she’d been born and no one she really knew had either. The fact that she was a friend of Barbara’s and had met her father any number of times was one reason for her taking it so hard. But the real reason for it was in the way he had died... by his own hand in the form of suicide. In hearing that I knew exactly why we’d been chased away from the site earlier in the afternoon.

The only thing that brought her out of her “funk” was that her mother called back again and told her to remind her to take the wash in before it got damp again. When Elle “recruited” me to help I was as happy as I could be. The instructions were to take down and fold anything that was dry and to hang the damp things in the basement. We started with the sheets and then her father's shirts followed by both her mother’s and her blouses. That left just the underwear. Her mother had already sorted it before she hung it up. There was no doubt about which were Elle’s panties. I’d done a quick count in my head about how many there might be and actually came close. I figured on the ones she’d brought home from college and then what she’d worn since then. I knew she washed on Saturday’s at school so it was everything from Sunday through Thursday. I’d guessed a dozen and there were 13. But what I really wanted to know was if she was actually using any of the new ones I’d bought for her during my last trip home. There was no mistaking them as they were still fairly bright white. The Carter's Spanky Pants were a dingy color with a definite yellow tinge in the crotch area. The actual count was 4 of the new Nazareth, 6 of the Carter’s and 3 nylon. I was happy.

All the cotton panties had to be hung in the cellar because they were still a bit damp so I actually got to touch and feel them. There was no doubt about the new ones being much heavier than the Carter’s panties so it surely made sense to me for her to be wearing them at night. It was while we were still in the cellar that I remembered that she’d changed from the wet panties when we’d last come in the house. I wondered where they were. When we got back to the kitchen Elle headed for the downstairs bathroom. As soon as the door closed I headed for the stairs, taking two at a time, in hopes of finding them still in the upstairs bathroom. I got lucky. There, hanging on one of the bathtub faucets were the panties. I quickly picked them up to look at them and I have to admit that I took a sniff as well. Even though the wetness had wicked up a ways, the golden color of the crotch caught my attention. I knew I only had a few seconds and I barely made it back to kitchen before Elle reappeared.

The depressing news really put a damper on us doing anything in an amorous or sexual way. I honestly don’t remember what we did the rest of the afternoon. That night we ended up just sitting around with her parents watching TV and I do remember leaving relatively early. What had started out as such a beautiful and promising day had turned into anything but that.

To be continued...