Date: Wed, 21 Apr 2004 20:11:54 EDT
From: KissAndCuddleGem@aol.com
Subject: POP FINDS A WAY (INSTALLMENT 9)

This story is purely a work of fiction and any resemblance to persons
living or dead, or to events that may have occurred, is purely
coincidental.

Moreover, none of the actions of the characters in this story is presented
with the intent to condone, approve, or sanction their behavior.

If it is illegal for you to read the material in this story for any reason
whatsoever, including but not limited to you not being of legal age, or, if
the content of this story is to the best of your knowledge and belief
unlawful in your particular jurisdiction, please read no further and close
the part(s) of my story that appear onscreen immediately.

The above-expressed disclaimer also does apply to any and all installments
of this story, including those, if any, following this installment.

All questions and/or comments with regard to this story, my fourth story
and series for Nifty, are most welcome; and, if you wish to contact me,
please feel free to email me at: KissAndCuddleGem@AOL.COM; and I will most
definitely respond to email, as appropriate.


Pop was recounting to me exactly what had transpired the night of the poker
game.  He was providing key details that I admittedly had been definitely
wondering about.  We were seated now, at Pop's request, on the living room
sofa.  Sometimes the tone and flavor of the recount resembled very much a
formal confession.  At times I was greatly moved by what Pop was saying,
his version of things, at other times I thought that I'd like nothing
better than to get right out of my seat and, for the mess he has gotten us
both into, slap him right in the face.  Sometimes his speech was rambling,
his description of events confusing.

Finally, something in the recount raised a flag in my mind; and so I
blurted out incredulously: "You mean you were drunk that night?!"

"Yes, that's right, son, I am not proud of it and all.  But in truth I was
flat out drunk the night of the poker game.  In fact, I've had a problem
with booze for years; and only now I am finally facing up to it and getting
some help, why I even attended an Alcoholics Anonymous meeting recently and
I intend to keep going to the meets and do their whole program, the whole
nine yards.  I know I never would have wagered the things I did, especially
your college fund, if I was sober."

"But, Pop, I never would have gone out and picked you up beer that night if
I knew you had had an alcohol problem, I feel so responsible."

"Jerry, don't even go there.  This is not your fault, you had no way of
knowing that I had this problem.  Your mom, rest her soul, and I have been
doing all under the sun to hide my alcohol problem from you.  Frankly, I
thought I had things under control; and I have always liked you helping out
with the refreshments, even while the game is in progress.  I like the
father-son closeness then, I never told you this, but you closely take
after my dad.  When I look in your eyes, it is just like being with him for
me."

"Pop, this plan that you and Uncle Robby came up with, you must realize
that it is insane.  You can't be serious about us going through with it?"

"Jerry, all I can say is is that you are my flesh and blood; and I love
you, that will never change.  I've racked my brains trying to come up with
alternatives, but there is nothing out there that will give us 'the out' we
need.  I even looked into a part-time job for you.  The thing is that,
without Grandma's inheritance and nothing more than my pension check from
the military coming in, we are in danger of losing the house.  This house
is to be yours one day; and it has been passed on from one generation to
the next as a symbol of pride for this family.  I know I'll just crack,
Jerry, just lose it completely if we have to lose this house and end up on
the rolls or worse."

"But, Pop, I just don't think I can handle it, it's too great a
sacrifice."; and, upon saying this, I began to cry.

Suddenly, a crazed glare came over Pop's face; and he began yelling: "Too
great a sacrifice?!!!  What about all of those years I sacrificed, worked
my butt off for you?  So you can get an education, have a roof over your
head, have food in your tummy, even go to that sissy cub scouts you wanted
to be a part of.  What about what I sacrificed for you, young man?  Now, I
am sorry that this is not convenient for you.  But you just march yourself
up to that room of yours now; and wait till further instruction from me.
Oh, by the way, don't touch that bag of clothes by your bed just yet,
that's your wardrobe for when your new 'employment' here begins.  I had to
scavenge around at flea markets for the stuff, can't afford the brand-new
designer threads like your Uncle Robby had especially for you.  Don't you
worry about a thing, I will always be in the room right next door when you
are...ehr...'occupied', I won't let any harm come your way.  You just bang
on the wall or holler or knock over or ring the bell on your night table;
and I will be there in a flash.  You have my word."

The next thing I knew I was up in my room.  Well, at least it was
technically my room.  When I entered it, I could barely recognize it.  I
was literally flabbergasted.  There were colorful beads hanging from the
ceiling and dangling against the wall on each side of the headboard of the
bed.  There were small gypsy-style lanterns, electric lanterns, set on
surfaces throughout the room, designed to provide intimate lighting I
guess.  The regular lamps had been removed.  There were replacements for
the bedspread and linens, all of which were feminine floral prints and
gaudy pastel colors like lavender and lime green and hot pink.  There were
strips of lustrous wine-colored fabric and disco style tinsel balls hung
across the ceiling and the posts of my bed were adorned with gaudy burgundy
bows.  Though I had never stepped foot in one myself, from seeing them in
the movies, I instantly recognized that I was now standing in what closely
resembled a room in a house of prostitution, a room in a whorehouse.

Instinctively, I thought that I should just make a run for it.  Just as I
was about to put that plan in motion, Pop opened the door without even
bothering to knock and quietly slipped in.

"Well, what do you think?  It's something, isn't it?  The room, right?"

"Oh, yeah, Pa, it is something all right."

Apparently, Pop did not pick up on the sarcasm in my voice, as he, upon
hearing this, continued: "Well, let me tell you son, all will be just fine.
I hear how they poke fun at us at the supermarket and in the mall, how they
call us 'white trash' all the time, not even caring if we are within
earshot.  I hear their jeers, their mocking, oh, yes, I do, and, let me
tell you, it hurts, it really hurts me deeply.  I know I've taught you to
just ingnore all of the name-calling or just shrug it off.  Yet it all
hurts me just the same.  We'll show them all yet though, right, Jerry?
You'll be the first one in this family to go to college, graduate from a
nice fine college or university, and make something out of himself.  Your
old man made a mistake, though we don't have to let it wreck the dreams I
have had for you, for us.  Tomorrow morning we will review the schedule I
set up for you, it's an administrative day at your school, so no classes
for you, we will have plenty of time then to get you all up to speed with
your new regimen.  I'm so proud of you, Jerry, helping us out like this,
like a really brave young man."

I could see just how choked up Pop was before he left what was till of late
the room I had always known to be the room of my boyhood.  There were
genuine tears in his eyes.  How could I just sneak out now, sneak out the
window now?  I mean I could see that Pop was really counting on me, that he
had such pride in me, such dreams for me.  I did not know what I was going
to do exactly, though leaving Pop in the lurch just seemed to cruel.  Plus,
where would I go?  I knew that Uncle Robby was most definitely one brick
short of a load, much too unstable, much too unpredictable, though secretly
I hoped that he might somewhere down the road step in to help me and of
course I knew better than to alienate a potential ally.  Anyway, going back
to Uncle Robby was no solution certainly.  I thought of going to a friend's
house, though I was afraid that Pop might come and find me and blab all
about what I did with Uncle Robby during the holiday weekend, all of the
sexual stuff, him taking my cherry and penetrating me over and over, all he
did to make me "ripe".

I began to excitedly pace the room, trying to sort things out.  I imagine I
closely resembled a loon in an insane asylum, with all of my nervous
movement.  I thought perhaps I might be missing something.  As I turned
back from the window, my eyes caught the pile of garments overflowing from
a paper shopping bag on the computer desk chair.  I walked closer to the
bag, I saw all of these slutty bikinis and thongs, some of them were
swimsuits and some were nightwear.  All of this effort on my part to resist
the fate at hand seemed so fruitless at this time.  Just before I drifted
off to sleep on the bed, both emotionally and physically exhausted, the
last thought I had was that perhaps I should just trust Him, the one above,
accept the reality that for whatever reason or reasons Pop simply could not
find another way, and do my best to be the best slut, the best slut for
Pop, for Pop and myself, that I possibly could be.