Chapter 35
Jake woke up Saturday morning at seven-thirty. It was hard to get out of bed because Erika and Melissa were sprawled across him, one on either side. He shimmied off the end of the bed as nature was calling too loudly to be ignored. The bath's other connecting door to the guest room was partly open; as he was shutting it he caught a glimpse of Scott's ass shining in the morning sun. It was moving so fast it was a blur. Underneath Scott was Debbie, gasping like a fish out of water as Scott poured it to her. Jake quietly closed the door on the tableau and performed his watery ablutions. He was downstairs by eight, and so were a horde of other people. Sven, Erik, and Barry Miller were collecting Charles to take him skeet shooting. Barry, who considered himself the subject matter expert, was even lending Charles a shotgun. Old Charles looked quite the country squire as they headed out. Helga and Maria were there also; they were traipsing off on some mysterious shopping trip to Orlando with Helen.
By ten after, he was alone with his coffee. Jake had been thinking for a few days now about trying his hand at investing. He did not remember much about individual stocks, but he knew trends that would emerge. He would need an investment professional to help parlay his knowledge into money. Money, that might present a problem, although he had almost fifteen hundred dollars in the bank. Helen would probably be willing to lend him a thousand for even a mystery project. All told, a sizeable sum for a student, not a big nest egg. Hum, quick money? Then, Eureka! Today was January 8, 1972; the Super Bowl was next weekend. Being a life-long Dolphin fan he knew that they would be stomped by the Cowboys in Super Bowl VI. He just needed seed cash and a bookie or two. Now for an investment advisor -- he grabbed the phonebook and let his fingers do the walking
Melissa came downstairs at nine dressed for the office. He thought she was cute in her business suit with her hair in a bun. She sat down with a cup of coffee and they blabbed like old folks. Jake asked her if she had any money he could borrow for ten days. She said she had fifty in her purse. Jake told her he was thinking along the lines of five thousand. Melissa gave him a look then pulled out her checkbook.
"Do I dare ask what this is for?" she asked.
"You don't dare unless you want to know that I'm betting it all on the Super Bowl," Jake replied.
She nodded and started writing out a check. "Bet twenty dollars for me," she said.
She tore out the check and handed it to him; it was for ten-thousand and twenty dollars. Jake gave her a quizzical look.
"I have a job, remember; did you think I work for free?" She explained.
They finished their coffee as they talked football; she agreed that Dallas was probably going to win but thought it was going to be a close game. She scoffed at the notion of a blowout. They made a side bet that involved many sexual favors; it would be an extra win-win as far as Jake was concerned. Melissa headed out the door at nine-fifteen, fending off Jake's groping hand as she ran.
At 9:30, Jake started calling investment advisors in reverse alphabetical order; he figured anyone working on Saturday must want to make money. On his third call, he got an answer. The woman who answered the phone at Sterling Investments said that there would be someone in the office until two. Jake made an appointment for eleven. When he went upstairs, Erika was just getting out of the shower. She was clean, naked, and, to Jake's delight, she was randy. They made love as Erika preferred, slow and passionately, in the missionary position with her knees waving at the ceiling. Erika drove like Mario Andretti in the final laps of an Indy race to get Jake to the Sterling offices at eleven. She dropped him at the door and said she would return to pick him up in an hour.
There was only one person in the Sterling Investment office, a young woman probably in her mid- to late-twenties. Jake walked to her desk.
"Good morning, I'm Jake Turner, I have an appointment."
"You are kind of young to need investment advice," said the woman.
"You are kind of young to be giving it," Jake replied.
"Touché," she said with a laugh, "Have a seat, I'm Martina Sterling, but you can call me Marty."
Jake sat down and looked her over; Marty was about five-five and stocky. She had black hair, cut short and crisp; she wore black horn-rimmed glasses, a young woman trying to be taken seriously. Her accent was classic New York.
"How may I help you, Mr. Turner?"
"I want you to make you and me rich," Jake said, "I have some ideas, but I need an expert to make them effective."
She laughed again; she had a nice laugh, genuine and unforced. She quizzed him about his aims and long-term plans. When Jake laid out his financial goals, it was hard for her to suppress a smile and take him seriously. He spoke nonchalantly about impossibly large sums of money. Jake switched gears and asked her about herself. She told him she had worked on Wall Street but saw the glass ceiling would inevitably hold her down. She had visited Palmdale on vacation once and had liked it enough to move here to strike out on her own. She hoped there would be enough investment demand as wealth moved south with the snowbirds and retirees. This was her third month as her own boss; she admitted that getting established was truly tough sledding.
Marty was just what he was looking for; she was smart, hungry, and motivated. They quickly reached an agreement. Jake told her to work up a strategy that could take advantage of a potential shortage of oil and gasoline next year. Also, he wanted her to learn what she could about the semiconductor business and which companies were doing practical innovations. She took notes and asked a few insightful questions. When they finished discussing details, she asked him how much he had to invest.
"When the Cowboys win the Super Bowl, I'll have over ten grand, right now I got nada."
She shook her head in wonder; if she ever felt the need for a man, this brash kid would be the one. Just about then, Erika walked in to retrieve him. As Jake was making introductions, another tall blonde walked in. Marty introduced her as Tina, her friend and roommate. Marty told him it would take her about a week to research and develop a plan. Jake invited Marty and Tina over to the Turner house for the Monday following the Super Bowl to discuss the results. Marty accepted for both Tina and herself and said they would be there at six.
Once they were in the car Erika said, "That's one you can forget; she's a lesbian."
"I went to her for investment advice, not loving; I have you for that. Besides, she was giving you the eye; I think she might like to try a Norwegian on for size," Jake said teasingly.
"Yeah, well, I already have a woman; she might like Debbie though."
Jake caught some continued flak about the Reader's Digest article in school the following week. Especially after the magazine hit the newsstands on Tuesday. He was teased mercilessly by his closer friends and ended up autographing about fifty copies of the magazine for people in the halls, many of them were truly touched and impressed to know a true hero. Vickie Greer was also a hot hallway topic that week when she showed up in maternity clothes. Jake told her how sweet she looked; she told him very quietly that she could now actually feel his baby growing in her and that made her want him again very soon. She went on to tell him that Melissa's teasing had made Bill boiling hot and she had reaped the steamy rewards Thursday night. Bill was comfortable with the teasing but he did not want any repeats of New Year's Eve. Melissa had told Jake the same thing; it was the liquor that loosed their inhibitions at Maria's party.
On Monday, Jake paid Tiny a visit at the gun store. Of course, trust Tiny to know a bookie; several reliable ones, as a matter of fact. Tiny played the greyhounds at the dog track next to Daytona International Speedway. A bunch of bookies hung out there watching the pari-mutuel television feed from the big horse racing tracks up north. When Jake showed Tiny that he had twelve and a half thousand dollars to bet, Tiny let out a whistle. He said it would be best to lay off the bet to three or four different bookies. He made some telephone calls; with Jake feeding him information, the bets were placed. Tiny got him 12 to 10 odds because Jake had picked Dallas by ten points and bet the under line for total points. It sure looked like a sucker bet. For Jake to win, Dallas had to out score the best defense in the NFL by eleven or more points, in addition the total number of points scored by both teams had to be fewer than thirty. Jake gave Tiny the money to hold since Tiny had made the bets.
Thursday Jake was called to the office again, this time from study hall. The school secretary handed him a mailbag bulging at the seams.
"These are addressed to you, Mr. Turner; that magazine named our school so people wrote to you here," she said. "No one minds, but you have to deal with this mail yourself. Please remember to give back the mailbag, it's government property."
Jake nodded dumbly, hoisted the bag over his shoulder, and made his way back to the library. Sitting down at his table, he told Beth what was in the bulging bag. They were opening a letter each when Rebecca came over to see what was going on. Jake repeated the story; Rebecca sat down to help. Most of the letters were from girls; a few poignant ones were from parents asking Jake for advice on how to get their sons off drugs. Jake had them sort the mail into three piles: girls, parents, and other. He did not think he could answer all the letters but he was going to read them all and respond to the ones that caught his attention. A portion of the letters had the page from the article enclosed for his autograph and many of the letters included photographs of the senders. He was definitely answering the bunch wanting the article signed. Jake wanted exposure and he was getting it, he did not plan for this, but he was developing the basis of a powerful personal mailing list which would prove essential to his future success.
On the way home, Melissa took him to a stationary store to get a supply of envelopes. He sat at the nook reading, signing and stuffing envelopes until suppertime. After supper, he was back at it. Most of the letters from girls were of the fan mail variety, the 'I think you are cute' type young girls send to their teen idols. A few of the letters were intriguing enough for Jake to pen a reply. Helen, somewhat alarmed albeit impressed with the volume of Jake's mail, told him that she did not think it was a good idea to use his home address so Jake decided to get a post office box before he put a return address on any of them. The mail kept coming by the bag-full for several days and Jake spent a lot of time sorting, reading and answering letters for the next few weeks.
Friday, Jake signed up for the baseball tryouts that were being held the following Monday; for position he listed 'outfield'. Tryouts were for three days; actual practice for those selected for the team started the twenty-fourth. The baseball season was thirteen weeks long, twelve weeks of regular season games then a double elimination tournament to decide conference champions. Baseball had been Jake's best sport the first time he was in high school. He had played right field. Good glove, good arm and decent with the bat. Slow foot speed and lack of commitment had kept him from moving to the next level. Those shortcomings would not be a problem in this life.
Saturday morning, Melissa dropped Jake off at Liz's little house. It was hard not to still think of it as the coach's place. Liz's Mercedes was in the driveway already. He let himself in to find Liz kneeling in wait on the floor by the couch. She looked incredibly beautiful as she knelt there in a long dark blue silk robe. Her long hair hung straight down her back almost touching the floor. Jake pulled her to her feet and into his arms; she melted against him as he kissed her fiercely.
"What are you wearing under the robe?" Jake asked after they broke the kiss.
"I'll show you as soon as I get you some coffee," she replied.
Jake took a seat on the couch as she disappeared into the kitchen. She returned a few minute later with two mugs. Jake let out an appreciative whistle as she came through the kitchen doorway. Liz had shed the robe in the kitchen; she stood before him in a camisole and tap pants the same dark blue as the robe. The outfit looked good on her tall lanky frame, her small breasts made delightful bumps in the long top while the loose-legged tap pants hugged her little rounded ass. She knelt back down beside him after setting the mugs on the coffee table and draped her arm across his knees. Jake sipped his coffee and brought her up to date about his life since they were together last.
Liz did not share much information about herself but appeared intensely interested in what went on in his life. When Jake mentioned his bet on the Super Bowl to get investment capital she said he should have come to her and she would have given him the money to invest. Jake laughed and reminded her that she had tried to buy him off once before. She reddened in acknowledgement; she had accused Jake of going with her niece for her money. Now they were together and she was trying to give him money. She asked him why he needed to make investments now, his girlfriend was rich and intent on marrying him, and his parents were well off. His future looked as if it was taken care of. Jake told her that he did not mind that Melissa had money; and it did not make him feel inferior, but he was going to need his own eventually.
Jake told her all about Martina Sterling; he said he knew as soon as he met Marty that she was a going to become a force in the investment world. Jake said he had an idea about starting a mutual fund with her. Liz said she might be interested in that and she bet others would also. While they were talking, Jake was playing with her nipples under her silky top. Liz liked her sex a little rough and especially got off on having her nipples tormented. As Jake pinched them firmly, she moaned for him to squeeze harder.
Jake stood up and walked towards the bedroom with an eager Liz shadowing him. He commented on the changes she had already made to the bungalow. She smiled happily at his praise but he had seen nothing yet, in a month it would be a love nest worthy of a sultan. The bedroom was another pleasant surprise; heavy drapes shut out the light from the window as candles provided the only illumination. Lying on the bed were four black leather, velvet-lined cuffs. Sturdy ropes were tied to the big cannon ball posts at the four corners of the bed. Liz had indeed been busy redecorating. She sprawled spread-eagled on the bed, still in her little outfit, her breath quickening as Jake took his time attaching the cuffs. Jake ran the ends of the ropes through the rings sewn into the cuffs; he pulled them tight. when Liz tested her bonds she could not move. A surge of desire swept through her as she contemplated her helplessness; she almost climaxed as her master lifted up the camisole and laid the body-warmed silk over her face.
Jake was shocked when he saw her fresh tattoo. Women with tattoos were a rarity in 1971, especially among society doyennes. The tattoo was a line of the three small cherries you would see on a winning slot machine; inside the first cherry was a heart, the other two contained his initials. Jake smiled when he noticed that totally coloring in the cherries could erase his initials and the heart. The design clearly suggested he had been central in two of her three cherries. He was touched; he spent the next hour showing her his appreciation. Jake ate and fingered her to orgasm, then climbed on her and rode her rhythmically until she came again. He switched back and forth between fingering and dickering until she was ecstatically exhausted. She had the energy for one last climax as he spurted his seed on her bared breasts. He used the towel on the nightstand to gently clean her off -- never releasing her from her bonds. He fetched a glass of ice water and held her head up so she could drink. When her thirst was slaked, he lowered her head back to the bed, flipped her top back over her face, and started teasing her with an ice cube from the glass. "This," thought Liz, "is all the medicine that I really needed."
It was four o'clock Sunday afternoon, January 16, 1972. Jake was sitting on the couch in the living room with Charles, Rafe, Ray Robinson, Sven, and Erik watching the Super Bowl. Jake was nervous even though he thought he knew the outcome of the game. Suppose it was just different enough in this time line for one team to score an extra field goal. In the first Super Bowl VI, Dallas had won 24-3; if the score somehow became 27-three, Jake would lose his bet on the over / under. While the others booed the Cowboys and quaffed Budweiser, Jake fretted until the final whistle. Charles asked Jake why he was so edgy; Jake said he had a little money bet on the game. Charles would have had a coronary if he knew exactly how much. Charles was by nature a frugal man. Jake teased him about the presidents in his wallet all having fingerprints on their necks because Charles squeezed them so tightly. When the Cowboys did win by the predicted score Jake had to suppress a whoop. It would not be politic to overtly celebrate a Dallas victory in a room full of disappointed diehard Miami fans.
The next afternoon Jake had Debbie drive him to the Gun Rack to pick up his winnings. Jake doubted if there would be any ill will from his winning but it did not hurt to err on the side of caution. What Jake did not expect was the crushing bear hug and sloppy kiss on the cheek he got from Tiny. After just as effusive greeting for his sister, Tiny handed Jake an olive-drab ammo can.
"There you go, Jakey -- exactly twenty-seven thousand, five hundred dollars. I am also ten grand richer, thanks to you. All my local bookie buddies were glad to cover my own Dallas action because they had so many Dolphin bets. They were not quite as happy this morning when they paid up -- but they still made a bundle because the Cowboys covered the spread."
After more handshakes and hugs, Jake and Debbie managed to escape for home. At the house, Jake sat at his desk and counted out the money into three piles. He owed Helen the thousand he had borrowed from her; ten thousand-forty went to Melissa. His foray into quick money gambling had netted him $16,460. After he replaced most of his money from the bank, he had a fifteen-thousand dollar nest egg to begin serious investing.
Marty, with Tina in tow, arrived at six-thirty that evening for the agreed client meeting. Jake made the introductions; he got a kick out of Marty and Tina's befuddled looks when he introduced Melissa. Muffy was being blatant about her relationship with Jake. Before they died of suspense, Jake quietly explained that Erika was a close friend of both Melissa and himself. Marty had to give her presentation at the dining room table because Charles, Helen and Melissa also wanted to hear it. She told them that, based on what Jake had surmised about the oil shortage next year, petroleum futures were the best bet if one were willing to take a high-risk route. Shortages meant higher prices; one-year futures were selling for around ten dollars a barrel today, those contracts would probably bring at least twenty to twenty-five a barrel in a severe shortage. Jake could not believe how simple and sound the idea was. Marty next told Jake her research on semiconductors had led to a company called Intel; they had just released something called (she looked down at her notes) the 4044 microprocessor at the end of 1971. Rumor had it they were about to release a next-generation processor twice as fast as the first.
Jake brought up the idea of an investment fund; he suggested a private mutual fund, one selected people could buy into for, say, ten thousand dollars a share initially. After the first quarter of operation, new investors would have to pay whatever the current value of each share would be worth at that time. Almost simultaneously, Helen, Melissa, and Charles said, "Count me in". The Sterling Fund started with four members and forty thousand dollars. Within a week most of the Turners' friends bought in. Liz bought two shares, somehow neglecting to tell Jake that one was in his name. Sara Douglas bought a share and so did Dr. Douglas. The Johanssons, Sorensons, and even Carl McClelland bought a share also. Maria was in as was her new close personal friend, Barry Miller. Jake got Charles to talk Rafe into joining; Turner furniture loaned him the up-front money and would deduct repayment from his pay at ten dollars a week, of course Charles planned on forgiving the debt and calling it a bonus. Martina Sterling was amazed that all these people would invest so much money on what appeared to be the hunch of a kid still in high school.
The Sterling fund soon had over a hundred thousand dollars to purchase petroleum futures. They would have had more but Jake insisted they diversify and buy two hundred shares of stock in Walgreen's Drug Stores and a hundred shares of Intel for each member. Jake and Marty agreed that they would buy as many futures contracts as they could get on margin whenever the price was eleven dollars a barrel or less.
Helen and Melissa invested part of their trust funds into Sterling over the course of the next year. When Marty stopped buying futures contracts, they had options for over forty thousand barrels. She unloaded the oil in April of 1973 at twenty-six dollars a barrel. Because they were invested in oil, Sterling missed the general market crash of 1973 and 1974. Instead, Marty bought one-year certificates of deposit. Those CD's earned a decent six percent. When they matured, Marty put them back in the market at its low. Stocks gave way to silver at three dollars an ounce in 1977. When Nelson and WH Hunt tried to corner the silver market in 1979, Marty unloaded a little over two million ounces at forty dollars an ounce. In seven years, an original share of the Sterling fund had gone from ten thousand dollars to two and a half million. Jake owned ten of the forty shares. Jake's knowledge of the future combined with Marty's market savvy made everyone a multimillionaire.
After the excitement of the start of his investment career, the rest of the week was a drag. The slow week crept like a snail towards Jake's sixteenth birthday on Friday. The family was throwing a bash for him Saturday night; he knew about the party, but the details were hush-hush. More important than the party to Jake was the eight-thirty appointment he had Friday morning at the Department of Motor Vehicles. Barring a natural disaster, he would be licensed and auto-mobile by ten o'clock Friday morning.
The major redeeming feature for the slow school week was baseball tryouts. His new class schedule he could do while somnambulant but when Jake stood in the outfield, he was in nirvana. The sheer beauty of the act of catching and throwing the ball was cathartic. Jake discovered that this life's body was superbly adapted for baseball. His eyesight was better than twenty-twenty and his reflexes were lightening quick. His ability to hit full stride in only a couple of steps gave him an edge on the base path as well as in the outfield. He could run down most balls hit in his vicinity; he went down to first base so quickly, he beat out many routine ground balls. By Wednesday, he was the starting center fielder; by Thursday, he was batting cleanup.
It was finally Friday morning and Jake was standing at the counter to have his picture taken for his license. This was the first month of the first year that a picture was required on all new drivers' licenses. Helen dropped him off at school at ten-fifteen; halleluiah, let freedom ring, it was the last time a parent would have to drive him anywhere. At school, Jake showed his friends his newly-minted license; he got high fives from everyone. He also got birthday kisses from about half the girls that were in school that day.
When Melissa picked him up from practice, he couldn't resist saying that from now on he would be driving himself around. "Wrong answer," she said succinctly. Tomorrow he was being dropped off at a remote safe location until the party was ready. Rebecca and Katie would be baby sitting him; they would bring him to the house at six. Jake accepted his fate graciously; a day with the dynamic Doane sisters was by no means unbearable punishment.
That night Jake drove the Boss Mustang to Gail Martin's house. He had called her for a date earlier in the week. For the first time in this life, Jake picked a girl up for a date in an automobile he was driving unaccompanied. Jake rang the doorbell then endured the ritualistic inquisition Bob Martin seemed delighted to put him through. Gail looked sharp in her London Fog trench coat as they headed out onto the highway. Jake asked her where she wanted to go. She pulled a motel key out of the trench coat's pocket and dangled it in front of his face.
"I want to go the Sea Vista Motel, Room 27, and there I shall give you your present," she said.
Jake reckoned that was a good idea and headed toward Daytona Beach. Once they were in the motel room, Gail pushed Jake onto the king sized bed. She stood back and undid the belt on her coat; when she whipped the coat open, she revealed that all she had on under it was a short black nightie and black stockings. She crawled onto the bed with him and started taking off his clothes.
"There are some things I want to try tonight, darling Jacob, birthday boy; you are going to be my experimental subject. I would appreciate it if you would just lie there and let me play."
Who was he to argue with the lady? Jake let her have her way with him until almost eleven o'clock. They tried every position she could dream up or had heard of. She rode his face while sucking him off, rode his dick facing his feet as he played with and probed her ass, and tongued his butt as she delicately jacked his dick. He answered her questions and demonstrated his answers. At eleven, they went for a walk on the beach. She gave him head under a lifeguard station; then he returned the favor. Back in the room, she dressed in a skirt and blouse she had cached in the room earlier. He had her home by twelve-thirty, his dick still tingling from her humming 'happy birthday to you' on it. Jake drove home and stumbled into bed, snuggling up to Melissa's warm body.
The next morning Melissa dropped Jake off at the Doanes'. His little cuties were wearing shorts and tee-shirts. He groaned when they told him the three of them were remodeling a room upstairs into a nursery. The sisters had already emptied and cleaned the room; tarps were already in place to protect the hardwood floors. Jake shooed Katie out of the room because of the paint fumes. He started Rebecca cutting in around windows and the door while he cut in the ceiling. The two of them finished painting the room by eleven-thirty. They went downstairs and ate a leisurely lunch, allowing the latex paint to dry. By half-past-noon, the tarps were removed and the sisters were putting up A-B-C wallpaper border at a height of about four feet from the floor. Jake, meanwhile, was put to work assembling a baby bed, changing table, and assorted accessories. By three, Jake was showered and in the bed for a nap; Rebecca took care of Private Turner so they could all get some sleep before his big night.
Jake woke up at five; the Doane sisters were already up and were
making themselves beautiful for his birthday party. Jake got up, put on
his robe and slippers, then tried out the contents of his Christmas
toiletry kit. New clothes he had never seen before were waiting at the
foot of the bed. It was a righteous outfit, so he put it on without
complaining. They left the Doanes' gingerbread Victorian house at a
quarter till six. At six-oh-five, they pulled into the large colonial
revival Turner home. The driveway and edge of the lawn were filled with
cars; Jake thought he even caught a glimpse of Sara's Chevelle
submissively tucked away in front of some other vehicles. As the trio
approached the house, they could hear music and laughter coming from
within. It sounded like a big rowdy crowd; Jake could hardy wait to get
in the house and to party hearty.