This is a mobile proxy. It is intended to visit the IOMfAtS Story Shelf on devices that would otherwise not correctly display the site. Please direct all your feedback to the friendly guy over at IOMfAtS!

My Debate Partner

by Joel Young

Chapter 4


I imagine that every teenager fantasizes about his or her perfect first sexual experience. And while my passionate night of lovemaking with my debate partner, David McAndrew, in October of my junior year of High school exceeded every possible expectation I had ever considered, I never imagined the terror I would experience the morning after.

We were sound asleep, still cradled next to each other, when the banging on our motel room door started. At my first awareness of the intrusive sound, I thought it was part of a dream. As it continued to demand greater levels of my attention, I finally began to remember that I had to get up and go to a debate tournament. As the banging continued, I thought perhaps one of my parents was knocking on my bedroom door at home to remind me to get up and get ready. Then, I became aware of David - naked next to me and still asleep.

"Oh... my... God," was all I could say when I realized where I actually was, remembered what had happened the night before, and I figured out the probable reason someone was banging on the motel room door.

The terror set in when I heard Mrs. Weber's voice. "Joel! David! Open the door!"

I looked at David sleeping, apparently oblivious to what was happening. Then I looked at the clock. "OH MY GOD," I gasped when I saw that it was 8:20 in the morning. I somehow managed to croak out, "Coming!" Mrs. Weber must have heard me because the banging stopped.

I got up, realizing that I was naked. I frantically looked for my blue jean shorts. I found them flung over the arm of a chair, and I put them on. I went to the door and opened it.

Mrs. Weber entered the room, glaring at me. She looked at David in the bed and looked back at me. A few moments later, she inhaled deeply through her nostrils, and I could almost read her mind. She was checking for the smell of marijuana. She looked around the room, obviously scanning for contraband, beer cans probably. Smelling nothing and seeing no contraband, she looked at David who was finally starting come out of his previous comatose state. She looked at the clothes, including my underwear, scattered around the room. She looked studiously at my face, and she knew.

I was paralyzed by the terror I felt. And then, David amazed me once more.

"What time is it?" he asked, stretching his arms out in an effort to wake up. "Did we oversleep?"

Mrs. Weber answered in an angry tone. "You certainly did. It's almost 8:30. Everyone is waiting in the cars, and you two are unacceptably late. What the ... HELL... was going on in here?"

"Well," David replied. "I'm sorry for oversleeping. We obviously used poor judgment when we stayed up so late working on our arguments. We'll get ready right away."

"Yes, you will!" she answered. "Get out of that bed, put your clothes on and come with me, NOW!"

David seemed to be fully awake now. "Excuse me, Mrs. Weber," he countered. "But I don't think that would be such a good idea." His tone was controlled and overly formal. "Frankly, I would prefer not to show you or Joel the natural condition in which I usually awake. And seeing that I sleep only in my briefs, I would like a little privacy. Also, I will need a shower if I am to do my best today. Perhaps Joel will too, but we'll be quick. It seems that Joel and I have created a problem, and I think that it would be appropriate if we were allowed to solve it. If you give us that chance, we will find our own way to the tournament so that we make no one else late. And, if we start solving the problem now, I suspect we may be able to arrive on time. It starts at 9:00, correct?"

I was in awe of David. How could anyone only 15 years old take such total control over an angry adult? But, he was a natural debater. He refused to be put on the defensive, talked to authority figures with authority, showed absolute tact, and used perfect logic with a little implied sexuality thrown in for shock value. Then, he ended with a closed question that would naturally call for an agreeable response. He had learned his lessons well. Fortunately, Mrs. Weber must have appreciated his communication skills at some level, because she let us off the hook - without giving up control of the situation herself.

"Look, you two," she said very sternly while crossing her arms. "I don't believe for one minute any of your claims of innocence. But I will make a deal with you. You get yourselves to that tournament - ON TIME! And IF you win all three of your debates, I will pretend to accept the load of bunk you just dished out. Do we understand each other?"

David couldn't leave well enough alone. "Ah, it always does come down to winning, doesn't it? We even learn it in High school."

I quickly broke my silence. "Mrs. Weber, thank you," I said. "We'll be there, on time, and we'll win. I promise."

She turned and walked out, not even bothering to say goodbye or to close the door. David continued. "Yeah, that's right. We'll just go out there and win one for the ol' Gipper!"

"Just get in the damn shower, McAndrew," I said. "I'll call down to the desk and see if they can help us with a ride."

He got out of bed and headed for the bathroom while doing a little dance. Although he had lied about the briefs, he flaunted the fact that he had told the truth about his "natural morning condition."

Talk about this story on our forum

Authors deserve your feedback. It's the only payment they get. If you go to the top of the page you will find the author's name. Click that and you can email the author easily.* Please take a few moments, if you liked the story, to say so.

[For those who use webmail, or whose regular email client opens when they want to use webmail instead: Please right click the author's name. A menu will open in which you can copy the email address (it goes directly to your clipboard without having the courtesy of mentioning that to you) to paste into your webmail system (Hotmail, Gmail, Yahoo etc). Each browser is subtly different, each Webmail system is different, or we'd give fuller instructions here. We trust you to know how to use your own system. Note: If the email address pastes or arrives with %40 in the middle, replace that weird set of characters with an @ sign.]

* Some browsers may require a right click instead