"You know I had this funny feeling that you were coming for trouble
but I never knew so here I go just running after you”

- Black 'n Blue (1985) - “Miss Mystery”

           SOMETHING OLD, SOMETHING NEW
Paul B. Johnson State Park
Sunday - March 16, 1986

My first speeding ticket!

It was my very first speeding ticket and while most people can remember their first speeding ticket, few remember their first speeding ticket with the same kind of fond memories that I do … I received my first speeding ticket twenty-one months after I had gotten my driver’s license and trust me … my first speeding ticket was long overdue with the kind of driving that I had become accustomed to.  In fact, everyone, including me, was surprised that I hadn’t gotten a speeding ticket sooner (or more of them) but then the kind of people who habitually get speeding tickets are usually either too dumb to ever be behind the steering wheel in the first place or the kind of rank amateurs who don’t know how to drive fast on public roads and who generally go about doing it badly whenever they do.

The day that I got my first speeding ticket started out pretty much like any other had started out that year … Rick called shortly after lunch and asked me if I wanted to cruise down to the local state park a few miles south of town.  It was going to be hot that Sunday afternoon in March and that held the promise of lots of sunbathing beauties at the park, high school and college girls wanting to thaw out after the winter.  A few of our coworkers from County Market were headed there as well and that meant at least a cooler of cold beer, chilled wine coolers.  Good times for Rick since I would be doing all of the driving and he would be doing all of the drinking.

I agreed probably more readily than I should have and an hour later found Rick and me slowly cruising the park in my 1978 red and black Chevrolet Camaro Rally Sport.  We were on the lookout for babes with bikinis and friends with alcohol.  It was truly a beautiful day, the sun was shining brightly, there wasn’t a cloud in the sky, the Spring of ’86 would be coming to an end soon and with it my junior year in high school.  What a year it had been so far!  Summer would start soon and after that, my senior year … my last year in high school!

I was excited!

There was lots of activity on the water front, boats and skiers on the lake, people fishing and swimming near the shore and all manner of oiled down, bathing suit or bikini clad or scantily clothed beauties soaking up the sun on towels here and there, walking along by their selves or in groups.

And that’s when I got my first speeding ticket.

How fast was I going when I got my first speeding ticket?

Thirty-five miles an hour.

Yes, you read right; thirty-five miles an hour but since the posted speed limit was fifteen miles an hour, you can honestly say that I was easily doing well over twice the legal posted speed limit when I got busted for speeding my first time.  At least that’s what I like to tell people when they ask me how fast I was going when I got my first ticket.  It’s worth the effort just to see their expression.

The truth is that I was going down a steep grade with the automatic transmission shifter pulled all the way back and down into first gear, my foot was off the accelerator, and I was coasting in a fifteen mile an hour zone.  I couldn’t tell you if I was doing six miles an hour, eight miles an hour, ten miles an hour or how fast I was going … I do know that I was going slow … way too slow for my or my Camaro Rally Sport’s liking since she tended to run a little warm when driven for a prolonged time at low speeds … like cruising around at fifteen miles an hour on hot asphalt on a hot day around the lake at a state park.  It should also be noted that two weeks ago I had installed true custom dual exhausts on the Camaro Rally Sport along with free flow turbo mufflers and the whole exhaust system rumbled nicely, especially at low speeds, in low gear, on a steep downwards grade.  If I had to describe the newly acquired sound of my Camaro Rally Sport, it would be that it emitted a “very aggressive, deep burble” and I guess it was the sound of my new exhaust system that first drew the ire and then the adverse attention of one very gung-ho park ranger with a real chip on his shoulder and something to prove that day.

Lucky me.

The first time that I saw the park ranger he was stepping out into the road to block my path waving commandingly for me to pull over at the bottom of the hill.  Now, I don’t know about this guy but my mommy taught me at an early age that it wasn’t a smart thing to step out in front of a moving car, no matter how slow it was going, especially if the driver’s head was turned in such a way that the driver was looking at women in skimpy bikinis instead of you but that’s the situation that the park ranger put himself into.

As it was I didn’t see the park ranger until it was almost too late … I was driving very slow, looking out my right side window at all the bikinis soaking up sun by the lake side when I turned my head back around to check the road ahead.  It’s a good thing that I did because that’s when I saw the park ranger step out from the side of the road not fifty feet ahead, stand directly in front of my Camaro Rally Sport, turn his head and raise his hand in the universal indication to “stop” or maybe he was a mime and he was trying to hold back a wall that was closing in on him to crush him.

I stopped all right but it wasn’t pretty.

The following actions all happened almost simultaneously; my gloved left hand gripped the steering wheel tighter and I let go of the console mounted gear shift with my right hand.

My right arm flew up and locked arrow straight out in front of me, palm mashing flat the horn button of the Camaro Rally Sport’s steering wheel as I prepared to swerve hard in order to avoid the sudden appearance of what I took to be some dumb ass state employee with a death wish.

My right foot went from hovering over the accelerator to stomping down hard on the brake pedal.

The power front disc and rear drum brakes of the Camaro Rally Sport instantly grabbed down hard.

All of the Chevy’s forward speed bled off almost instantly, the Camaro Rally Sport coming to a loud horn blowing, complete stop with barely a chirp of rubber from the protesting tires.

The Camaro Rally Sport rocked on its suspension before settling out.

The horn was still blowing at the park ranger who now stood only about five feet in front of the Camaro Rally Sport’s front end with his hand still raised in the “stop” gesture.

We came to a stop so fast that Rick was caught completely by surprise, letting out a long string of hate filled profanity directed at my ability or rather his perception of my inability to drive my own car.

“What the hell are you doing?!” Rick asked, looking around confused after having been thrown around in his seat at the sudden brake stop.

“Trying to not run over that stupid retard.” I said flatly, right palm still pressed flat and hard against the horn button in the center of the steering wheel.

“What stupid retard are you talking about?”

“That stupid retard.”

Rick looked out the front window and shook his head.

“Where did he come from?”

“Hell if I know.  If I hadn’t seen him in time and slammed down on the brakes, he’d have been my hood ornament.”

“What the hell?!  Did he step out in front of you?” Rick asked, puzzled at the situation.

“Yeah.” I said, watching the park ranger sneer at me.

Then I realized that I still had my hand locked down over the horn button.  I let off the horn button and the silence was abrupt. I sighed heavily and leaned my head out the window to stare at the angry park ranger standing in front of my car.

“Hey!  What is your problem?!” I shouted at the top of my lungs; suddenly mad at this park ranger for stepping out in front of me and expecting me not to run him over.

“Pull it over!” the park ranger shouted.

He pointed at me with his right hand and finger while motioning where he wanted me to go with his left arm.  He repeated the identical gesture twice.  When I didn’t immediately start to edge the Camaro Rally Sport forward and over to where he wanted me to go, he pointed at me with both hands and fingers then used both hands to slowly, exaggeratedly show me where he wanted me to pull over to.

“NOW!  Pull it over NOW!” the park ranger shouted at me.

“Christ!  What does that muppet want with us?”

“Hell if I know but he’s telling me to pull over there.” I replied, feeling my body start to slow down as well.

“Why?!” Rick asked.

I sighed and turned to look at Rick.

“I don’t know why the stupid retard wants us to pull over, Rick.  Why don’t we just pull over and either ask him or sit here in the car and wait for him to tell us why he wants us to pull over.”

Rick didn’t seem to have a snappy comeback to that so a deep huff from him sufficed.  I could tell that he was trying to work on a comeback … trying and failing.

Honestly, at the time, I didn’t know what was going on so I dutifully pulled over thinking that there might be an emergency or an accident or that the road ahead might be closed to traffic and we were going to be asked to turn around and go back the way that we had come from …  I mean, if a park ranger steps in front of your car and almost gets reduced to a road waffle, you kind of believe, instinctually, that it might be important and worth pulling over for.  In hindsight, I started to feel a little bad that I had been girl watching and not paying attention to the road even though I was in first gear at little more than a fast idle but … lesson learned.

I pulled the aggressively burbling Camaro Rally Sport over into the little turn around area and wedged it between a 1985 blue and silver GMC Jimmy and a huge gold colored ’76 gold Lincoln Continental Mark IV that was pulled into the run off backwards, its long heavy nose facing the road.  I noticed that I was the third driver that the park ranger had pulled over and he was even now stepping out in front of an old silver and red Ford Mustang II and signaling them to pull over.  I put the console mounted transmission shifter up into Park and kicked down the parking brake.

“He’s got that Jimmy, the gold Lincoln, us and now he’s pulling over that Ford?  What the hell is going on?” Rick asked out loud.

“I don’t know.” I mused.

“What is his damn problem?!  Has there been an accident?” Rick asked, confused, looking around at the other cars that were parked next to us.

“I don’t know.” I said, again, louder while relaxing in my driver’s seat and tapping my fingers on the edge of the driver’s door.

I really didn’t know why the park ranger had pulled us over but I was sure that I would find out soon enough.

“Well, you pulled over …” Rick started fuming again.

“That ranger was motioning for me to pull over …”

“You could have driven around him …” Rick said.

“I almost drove over him …” I mused.

“You should have driven away from him and left him standing there in the middle of the road with his thumb stuck up his ass.  Damn, he’s only got a beat up old Chevy state service truck.  You could have left him easy, doubled back and been out of the park before his head stopped spinning.”

“He’s probably got a radio.” I said, looking down at my own CB radio that occupied the center console and dash below the aftermarket Kenwood stereo.

“Yeah.  A walkie talkie.  Maybe.” Rick chided, fuming.  “Why the hell did you pull over?”

“I pulled over because I thought there might be an accident or the road might be out up ahead …  I mean, he just stepped out in front of me and put his hand up … What was I supposed to do?”

“You were supposed to tell him to kiss your tax paying ass and leave him in a cloud of dust.”

“Pushing the long skinny pedal flat to the floor isn’t the answer to every situation.” I said, knowing that I was right in what I had done.

“Well, speed should have been your answer to this situation.  Speed and your middle finger.” Rick chided.

I didn’t say anything … Rick was in one of his moods where only cold beer, being the center of attention and lots of it was going to make him happy and less argumentative.  Anything other than that, any answer back to what he said was just going to be an invitation for him to argue more or try to drive his point home even deeper.  A long moment of silence passed.  I reached up and cut the engine off … no use wasting gas idling.  A cool breeze blew in through the open windows carrying with it the smells of early spring.  I turned the key back one notch and turned up the Kenwood stereo, tuning in WHSY Rock 104.5, my local favorite radio station that played the contemporary stuff as well as classic rock.  .38 Special’s “If I’d been the One” was about halfway done and I settled back in my seat a little bit further, took a deep breath and rubbed the bridge of my nose with two fingers, massaging hard and raising my sunglasses up on my furrowed brow.  Damn it felt good and I closed my eyes to enjoy the moment.

“I wonder why he’s pulled all of these people over?” Rick asked.  “We weren’t playing the radio loud at all and we don’t have any beer.”

“Yet.” I said.

“Yet!” Rick agreed with just a hint of sadness.

I opened my eyes just in time to see the park ranger finish up talking to the couple in the Jimmy.  The girl behind the steering wheel didn’t look very happy with the ranger.

“Well, I’m sure that we’re about to find out soon enough.  Here comes Ranger Prick.” I said.

“Ranger Prick!”  Rick laughed out loud then looked over at the park ranger as he made his way from a GMC Jimmy pulled over beside us on the right, walked in front of the Camaro Rally Sport and back around to his state truck.

“Son of a bitch looks like Elmer Fudd trying to audition for the Bee Gees.” I mused.

Rick laughed again.

“You have got to be kidding me.” Rick said, laughing.  “If that screwy retard is a park ranger then I’m the damn Easter Bunny.”

“I’m dwiving in mah kar listen’ to da ray dee oh …” I started singing softly, imitating Robin Williams’ rendition of Elmer Fudd singing Bruce Springstein’s “Fire.”

This only caused Rick to laugh even more and I couldn’t help myself so I joined in as well.  Now, I’m sure that the state park service had some kind of dress code but if they did, I seriously doubted that the park ranger who had pulled us over had ever been told about it.

Let me describe this park ranger for you.

He wore brown ankle hiking boots, brown socks and tan, multi-pocket camp shorts with a wide leather belt.  He wore a park service button up shirt that was open for the top third of the buttons, exposing his far more white than tan and not quite so hairy chest as well as the gold chain he wore.  Dark stains were visible under the arms of his shirt.  His mirrored shades were carried on the front of his shirt by inserting the leg of the frame down through the button hole of one of his breast pockets.  His hair was the kind that a much older man would have sported naturally and I felt sorry for him rather than feeling any kind of intimidation.

“Did anyone tell him that the ‘70’s are over?” Rick asked.

“Wow.  I think that we just found the long lost member of The Village People.”

This caused Rick to laugh out loud again and I realized that if I kept Rick amused he might just not be so critical of everything that I did and therefore he wouldn’t be getting on my nerves.  No, I doubted that the park ranger’s wardrobe was on the list of approved appearance guidelines but that was how the he was dressed as he stepped back over to his park service Chevy pickup truck.  The park ranger looked up, counted the cars around him, then rummaged around the interior of his truck until he found a metal clipboard with some official looking forms on it.  There was just the hint of a smile on his face as he marched over to my Camaro Rally Sport, folded his arms, cocked his head and looked down at me sitting in my car.

“You got any beer or alcohol in your car?” He asked loudly in a voice that people parked on each side of us could easily hear.

“No … but if you’re thirsty I could run go and get you some.  Wouldn’t take me very long, either.” I said in a friendly manner, smiling.

“Run go get him some!” Rick said loudly, spontaneously laughed out loud at that statement, kicking his feet against the floor board and holding his sides.

Rick probably laughed a lot louder than he should have which made the park ranger straighten up an extra full inch in stature, sucking in his stomach and sneering.  I could tell that he was about to say something but I cut him off.  If I was going to get a ticket or whatever it was that the park ranger had clipped to his board then I was going to have some fun with this penis clown before it was all over with.

“Hey!  Is your truck dead?  Do you need me to jump your truck off because if you do I’ve got some jumper cables in the trunk and I can …” I asked, looking up at him, speaking before he could.

“I need you to be QUIET.” The park ranger said loudly, sneering at me.

I shut up but I didn’t stop staring up at him, never breaking eye contact; his eyes to mine.

“I pulled you over because you were speeding.”

Huh?

What?

Speeding? 

With my foot off the accelerator, the automatic transmission racked back into first gear and coasting downhill?  That didn’t make a lot of sense.

“Speeding?” I asked, confused and amazed at what I was hearing and still not sure that I had heard him correctly.

“Yes.  Speeding.” The park ranger said as he leaned over a little to emphasize his point.

“You’re kidding, right?  Speeding?” I said back, confused at the situation.

“You were speeding.”

“How could I be speeding when I was coasting downhill with the engine idling and the transmission racked all the way back in first gear?!”

“You were speeding.” The park ranger said again.

“Uh.  How fast was I going?” I asked, still lost in amazement at the hilarity of the situation.

“You were doing thirty-five miles an hour in a fifteen mile an hour zone.  That’s speeding.”

“Thirty-five in a fifteen zone?!  In first gear?!  Coasting?” I asked out loud, not believing what I had heard.

“That’s bullshit!  Ask him if you can see his radar gun …” Rick said.  “Otherwise he’s talking out his ass and he’s got nothing on you.”

I motioned for Rick to be quiet.  Rick had a way of turning simple problems into compound predicaments and the favorite tool that he used to do this was his big mouth.  His great big mouth.

“Ask to see his radar gun.  Oh, that’s right!  He doesn’t have a radar gun!  Unless he carved one out of wood!”

“Do you think that speeding in a state park is funny?” the ranger asked, clutching his clip board like he was a preacher and it was his Bible or maybe it was his security blanket.

“I think that pulling someone over for coasting downhill in first gear and saying that they were speeding is funny.  Thirty-five miles an hour?!  Since when is thirty-five miles an hour speeding?”

“It’s speeding when the posted limit is fifteen miles an hour!” the ranger said.

“I was coasting downhill in first gear and you’re busting me for speeding?  What did I do, pass a snail?”

The ranger started to get mad.

“I was idling downhill … coasting … you screwy retard.” The last three words I said only loud enough that Rick could hear them.

Rick snickered.

“Don’t get smart with me, boy.  I got you.  I heard you coming half a mile away over the spillway.” The park ranger said smugly.  “The park speed limit is posted at the front gate, fifteen miles an hour.  You were doing thirty-five miles an hour now give me your license and don’t give me any more attitude.”

I sighed because it all just didn’t make sense.

“So, let me get this straight.  You don’t have a radar gun in your state truck there but you heard my car off in the distance and because you heard my car, you equate noise with velocity?”

The park ranger glowered at me, fuming.  I decided to push his buttons just a little bit further.  Hell, I was in it this deep already.

“So … is a basic high school education a requirement to be a park ranger or can you be a park ranger if you have no comprehension whatsoever of physics or mathematics at all?”

“Son, your smart ass mouth just got you a ticket.”

“I was going to get a ticket anyway …” I muttered.

“Peel out and let’s leave.  Hell, Fred Flintstone could outrun this retard in the Flintstone mobile.” Rick said.

“Shut up.” I said flatly to Rick.

The park ranger obviously thought I was talking to him.

“What did you say?” he asked.

“Nothing.” I replied.

“Nothing?  Give me your license because I’m not going to ask you again.” Park ranger said, stabbing a finger in the air at me while his other hand went to his belt and his walkie talkie.

Walkie-talkie.

Boy, that was intimidating.  If he pulled that walkie-talkie out and called for backup I’m sure I’d be in a whole world of trouble.  I sighed, dug out my wallet and surrendered my driver’s license to the park ranger.  The corner of his lip curled up as he read over my license, did an almost military precise turn and walked briskly back to his state truck.

I guess everyone in life had to have a hobby.

Mine was making fun of idiots.

Ranger Prick’s hobby must have been busting people’s balls whenever he could to make up for his lack of a set of his own.  It probably gave him a sense of power.

“Son, your smart ass mouth just got you a ticket.” Rick mimicked the ranger.

“Do you want to say that a little louder, Rick?” I asked.  “I’m sure that if you keep making smartass comments that he can hear that I’m going to eventually wind up going to jail over this.”

“Yeah.  They’re going to put you in jail … a jail made out of Lincoln Logs.” Rick said flatly.

Rick looked around at the three other vehicles parked at the bottom of the spillway, at the other drivers all fuming at having been pulled over for who knew what.  I stared at the state truck and watched the park ranger pull up his metal clipboard, stick my license in the snap clip at the top and start to fill out a form that looked pretty official from where I sat.  Maybe I was going to really get a ticket and maybe it was even going to be a real ticket, like where I’d have to pay real money and not like do arts and crafts or make a bead necklace to get out of it.

I should have been mad as hell … I should have been but I wasn’t; in fact, I was pretty calm.  In fact, I was kind of happy which surprised me because I didn’t exactly know why I was happy and I thought about that.  While Rick fumed in the passenger seat I lost myself in thought at what was going on.

It was my first speeding ticket.

My first speeding ticket!

Call it a rite of passage.

Oh, my parents were going to be pissed and I was going to catch hell five ways from Sunday for getting a speeding ticket but then I thought about it and I had to smile.  Thirty-five miles an hour in a fifteen mile per hour zone.  Ha!  My parents weren’t going to know what to do when I showed them this!  On one hand, I just got my first speeding ticket and it had been for over twice the posted legal speed limit.  On the other hand, the ticket was for doing thirty-five miles an hour which no one could honestly say was anywhere near the definition of speeding.

My first speeding ticket.

Thirty-five in a fifteen zone.

Yeah, I was such a menace to society; a real rebel and outlaw.  They better lock me up and throw away the key because the streets weren’t safe with me behind the wheel.

I laughed, just a little, because I actually looked forward to telling my parents about the ticket, just to see their initial reaction and then to watch as the hilarity of the situation sank in with them and they pondered whether to punish me or not, whether they could punish me or not.

I went back to musing on my current situation.  I was getting a speeding ticket for doing thirty-five miles an hour in a fifteen mile an hour zone and the park ranger didn’t even have a radar gun.  How did he know how fast I was going?  How could he tell how fast I was going?  He said that he had heard me … that he had heard my Camaro’s exhaust and because he could hear me that meant that I was speeding.  Hell, he was just guessing at best and what made me mad was the fact that he was basing the ticket on the fact that he had heard my car rather than having actually seen my car in motion.  He was equating noise with speed which made no sense at all.  I mean, I could turn my radio up all the way and make a lot of noise but that didn’t mean that my radio was doing a hundred miles an hour just because it was really loud.

“Huh.” I said out loud.

“What?” Rick asked.

I didn’t answer him.

I smiled because I guess that a high school education really wasn’t required to be a park ranger … maybe you just had to be good at dressing badly and stomping out abandoned camp fires and filling out forms and threatening to throw campers in Lincoln Log jail if they didn’t obey the rules.

I snorted at that.

“What?” Rick asked, again.

I shook my head and ignored him.

This ticket wasn’t going to be that expensive, no matter what Ranger Prick tried to scare me into believing, but it was the simple principle of the matter that made me angry … Getting a ticket for speeding in a state park, especially when you weren’t speeding, was tantamount to a shakedown.  I felt like I was being mugged by a pair of park rangers and apparently they were making money hand over fist at this little spot.  The more I looked at the two rangers, sitting in their truck, writing out tickets, the more I thought that this was just a license to steal.

“Maybe he’s trying to make a quota.” Rick said, oddly enough syncing with my own thoughts exactly.

“Maybe he’s collecting for the Park Rangers Secret Ball.” I said.

Rick smirked and looked out the passenger side.  I leaned up in the driver’s seat to scratch a sudden itch behind my left ankle and that was when I noticed her parked beside us …

Her.

Looking at me.

Her.

She was sitting there in that big gold ’76 Lincoln Continental Mark IV parked next to my ’78 Camaro Rally Sport with less than fifteen feet separating us.  She was an older woman, mid to late thirties if I had to guess, long brunette hair cut in a style that was popular a few years ago.  She wore a cream colored sun dress, two thin straps over her shoulders, and Wayfarers.  She was looking at me, her arms crossed on the door sill of her car and her chin resting on her arms.  She was looking at me … just … looking.  I don’t know how long she had been looking at us … at me … but it must have been longer than I had noticed her doing it.

She pushed her Wayfarers up on top of her head.

We made eye contact.

She had really pretty eyes.

She smiled, looked away for a second, turned to make eye contact with me again and smiled, again.  I guess she had heard everything that I had said to the park ranger, the distance between us wasn’t that much and the exchange had been kind of loud.  If so, then she definitely got a show out of my little bit of civil disobedience.  I finished scratching my ankle, leaned back and looked over at the woman.  Her Ray-Ban Wayfarers to my cheap sunglasses.  She smiled.  Again.  Her smile was mesmerizing, bewitching, and for some reason that made all the bullshit that I was going through right now just a little more tolerable.  I couldn’t help myself and I smiled back.  My thought right then was "what did I have to lose?"

“What the hell is this dumb son of a bitch trying to do?  Get the Ranger of the Month award?” Rick asked in a hushed whisper directed to me, snapping me back from the thoughts that I was having.

“I think he’s trying to impress her.” I said.

“Who?” Rick asked, looking around.

“Her.  There’s a female ranger in the front seat of his truck.” I said, pointing towards the park service truck.  “Pretty young too and not bad looking except she’s got a scowl on her face like she’s got cramps or something.”

“Wow.  I didn’t see her.  You’re right!  She doesn’t look happy at all.”

“Yeah, well, you wouldn’t be happy either if you had Disco Elmer Fudd as your partner for the whole fucking day.” I muttered in reply.

“Disco!  Elmer!  Fudd!” Rick repeated as he laughed out loud.

… and the female park ranger didn’t look happy.  She sat there, looking sternly bored while the other ranger wrote the tickets.  Every now and then she would look around at the people that her partner had pulled over and she’d scowl … just scowl.  I guess there weren’t any happy rangers at Paul B. Johnson state park today and probably not a lot of happy campers, either.  I guess a scowl was now standard issue with each ranger badge and shirt patch.  I even saw her yawn and stretch and when she had finished that she just sat there … scowling, like everyone who wasn’t wearing a park ranger uniform was somehow beneath her.  She was younger than the other ranger was, raven haired and attractive if it weren’t for what could be that permanent scowl on her face. 

A transfer might do wonders for her …  or a new career choice.

I smiled at that thought then turned to look back at the gold Lincoln parked next to us and again made eye contact with the woman sitting in the driver’s seat.  Wow.  I'd been so lost in my own thoughts that I'd forgotten about her there next to us.  She lifted her chin from her arms, sat up straight in the driver’s seat and took her sunglasses off, setting them on the Lincoln's wide dash in front of her.  I watched as she pulled her long hair back with her fingers then let it fall again as she checked herself in the side view mirror and then the rear view mirror. Satisfied with whatever she had been working at she picked up her sunglasses from the dash and started chewing on the end of one of the frame legs, slowly turning her head to the side to look back in my direction, smiling coyly as she did.   The woman in the big gold Lincoln was very attractive and the best thing that I had seen all day at the state park … so much more attractive than all the high school and college girls that Rick had been drooling over since we started cruising the park looking for his beer buddies.

Rick could have his young girls …

At this point in my life I was only interested in women … older women … and what had my attention right now was a woman … a real woman … and we were staring at each other across a gulf of about fifteen feet … staring eye to eye and she was slowly chewing on the end of her Wayfarers.

“You’re moody.” Rick said.

“Not moody.  Just quiet.”

“Quiet?  You’re only quiet when something’s got your attention … so … What’s got your attention?” Rick asked.

“Not what.  Who.” I said.

“Okay.  Who?” Rick asked.

“Her.” I said, not bothering to break eye contact with the woman.

“Who?” Rick asked again, looking around.  “The bitchy park ranger?”

“No.  Her.”

I could feel Rick moving around in the passenger seat to try to see what I was looking at.

Her.

She had small earrings, single punches, conservative in nature, and a strong chin … not that droopy kind that comes with certain women and age.  The years had been kind to her but her eyes looked … sad.  Her smile almost seemed like an effort, like something thrown out there with little hope of it even being seen but when she smiled again, the second time she had done that, her smile was the kind of smile that was worth waiting for.  She threw her smile like it was the only thing that she had left and she threw it like she didn’t expect to get much back for the effort.

“Who?  Her who?”

“Over there.  Parked right next to us.  The woman in the big gold Lincoln.” I said in a low voice, nodding my head slightly to my left.

“Huh?  Where?” Rick asked, ducking his head some and trying to stare out my window as well, getting a little close for my comfort.

“Right.  There.  Parked next to us.  Her.  Sitting in the big gold Lincoln.  The old, big, gold Lincoln.”

Rick leaned over so far that he almost put his head on my shoulder.  I could feel his breath on my neck and ear and I was tempted to remind him that we weren’t dating but right as I was about to speak, Rick caught sight of the woman in the gold Lincoln and he fox whistled … softly but right in my ear.  I doubted that it carried much outside of the Camaro Rally Sport and if the woman sitting in the gold Lincoln heard it, she didn’t give any indication of having noticed.  I shoved Rick back off of me, with not a little effort, sat back in my seat, turned back to my left and continued to watch her.

“Try not to stare, dumbass, and for God’s sake don’t drool on my shoulder or lap.”

She must have noticed that I was staring at her because she took a long time to stretch, raising her arms way above her head, clasping her hands together behind her seat, grabbing the headrest of the Lincoln and arching her back.  Her breasts bunched up under her sun dress, filling it and pushing it out as she turned her head slowly from side to side, letting her long hair swish across the span of her neck.  She finished by lowering her arms and running them down the small of her back, jutting her chest out again as she finished stretching.  She knew what she was doing, she knew that I was watching her and I couldn’t help myself.  She was preening … and I was mesmerized as she put on a show for me.

Rick was less than impressed.

“Damn!  You’re right!  She’s not half bad looking … for someone’s mother.” Rick chided, laughing.

“Someone’s mother?  She’s not that old.” I said.

“Not that old?  The hell she isn’t!  She’s as old as your mother is!” Rick said.

I looked again as she continued to preen there in the driver’s seat of her Lincoln.  Rick may have been right.  The woman in the Lincoln may have been my mother’s age but that didn’t stop me from admiring her beauty.

“She may have a few years on her but she is top grade fine.”

“Fine?  Hell, she’s got to be in her late thirties at least … maybe her forties.”

“What’s wrong with that?” I asked.

“What’s wrong with that?!  That’s old!  She’s old!” Rick said.

“Her age doesn’t bother me.”

Rick laughed.

“You’re nuts!  You seriously want to put it to that?”

“And you wouldn’t?” I asked.

“Hell, no!”

“I would.” I said.  "I'd take that for a test drive and knock the frame out from under it."

“You’re … nuts!  She’s … old!” Rick stammered.

“She’s fine.” I said.

“Fine.  She’s old!” Rick said laughing.

“There’s not a gray hair on her.”

“Not where you can see it!  That pussy is probably full of dust and cobwebs.  Face it, Shields … She’s old!” Rick chided.

“…” I started to saying something, really feeling the need to get defensive and not really knowing why.

Rick was getting under my skin right now and he knew it and that was making him happy.  Rick liked to get under people’s skin, maybe as much as the park ranger liked writing tickets and maybe for the same reason.

“How can you be into women who smell like Oil of Olay and get off on Tupperware parties?  Why don’t you pop a tent over someone younger … ?” Rick said.

I turned to face him.

“Someone younger?” I asked out loud.

“Yeah.  Someone younger than … her!”

“Someone younger than her?  Someone like Pam?” I shot back, immediately regretting saying it.

Rick was about to say something then shut up when he thought better of it.

“Fine.  Whatever.” He said.  “It’s your dick so put it in whoever you want to.”

“Gee, thanks, dad!  I think I will!” I said sarcastically.

“Fine.” Rick said.

“Fine.” I said.

Rick started to say something else but ended up with a short huff instead.

I turned back and stared at the woman in the gold Lincoln parked next to us.  She smiled again, third time, took on a demure look and the silent flirting continued in earnest between us. She stared at me.  She had beautiful eyes.  She put the end of her Wayfarers in her mouth and slowly chewed on them, staring at me and just for a second she cut her eyes at me.  Minutes passed on that warm Sunday afternoon and not a word was said between us.  Me watching her made me completely forget about the ticket that I was getting.

Me watching her made me completely forget about anything else in the world.

The ranger finished the ticket he was writing and gave it to the female ranger who slowly got out of the state truck and walked over to where we were parked, moving between the woman in the gold Lincoln and me.  The female ranger handed the ticket and driver’s license to the woman in the big gold Lincoln, said a few words to her that I couldn’t hear then turned and walked back to the park services pickup with about as much enthusiasm for her job as you could expect given the circumstances.

I’d probably be next.

The woman in the gold Lincoln started her engine, a big engine by the rumbling sound of it … probably something like a big 460 cubic inch V8 choked to death by a two barrel carb and soda straw sized exhaust pipes.  Ford was famous for putting big engines in their luxury yachts and choking them down to nothing with wimpy carbs and tiny exhausts and with that thought I found myself sorry that she was leaving.  So much for that little show.  I turned my head forward and closed my eyes, thinking about the ticket and how stupid it was that I was getting this ticket.

Suddenly I was back in the real world.

Suddenly I wasn’t as happy as I had been a few seconds ago.

Next to me, the woman in the gold Lincoln looked down at the license, then at the ticket and then back up to the license.  A confused look crossed her face then she smiled, put her transmission back into Park and put her Wayfarers back on.  I was leaning back in the driver's seat, head reclined and eyes closed when I heard the big heavy door to the gold Lincoln squeak open then slam shut.  Curious, because the Lincoln was still idling and curious because if she had gotten out to give the ranger a piece of her mind then I might get to see what her body looked like.  I opened my eyes, turned my head to the left and saw the woman walking towards us, ticket and license in hand at her side.

She was an older brunette, tall, slender, almost six feet tall at least, with a nice shape to her from what I could see; thin but not skinny, long legs and tan leather sandals to go with her cream colored sundress.  Her tan suggested that she spent her spare time outside more often than not, the outdoors type or her job let her stay that way.  The woman had a really nice body … shaped, curved, proportional.  Nothing really stood out but then nothing was lacking either.  I watched her walk up to the side of the Camaro Rally Sport and stand there a few feet away, arms crossed in front of her and holding her ticket and license in her hands.  There was the smell of flowers, strong now, so I guessed it was her perfume.  Whatever the scent was, it hadn’t been noticeable until she had walked over and stood near the Camaro Rally Sport.  I had no idea what she wanted but she had my undivided attention at that point in time.

My.

Undivided.

Attention.

I saw my reflection in her Wayfarers as she approached and I guess she saw her reflection in my sunglasses.  She looked down at the ticket in her hand then looked back up at me.

“Christopher Shields?  Excuse me?  Are you Christopher Shields?” she asked.

I stared at her and a really weird feeling came over me right then.

How did she know my name …?

“Huh?” Rick asked, trying to lean over again and look out the driver’s side window at the woman standing there.  Of course all he saw of her was from her waist to her tits.

I pushed him back.

Hard.

Again, that took some effort because Rick was a big guy.

“How does she know your name?” he asked, chuckling because he was obviously confused.

That was the common question.  I didn’t have an answer for him so I shrugged my shoulders as he leaned over again, crowding my space.

“Hell if I know.  Hey!  Get your retarded ass off of me.” I said softly, pushing him back, again, over into the passenger seat.

I’d stopped asking why weird stuff happened in my life years ago because it just did and that was how my life was.  I’d gotten used to it, even looked forward to it from time to time because it kept my life interesting.  I couldn’t say the same for the company that I usually kept.

“Christopher?  That is you, right?  Your name is Christopher, right?” she asked again, her voice unsure as she looked at the ticket in her hand again then back at me.

“That’s me.” I said, still not sure how this woman knew my name or what she wanted with me.

She smiled and handed me the ticket.

“Well then, I think that this belongs to you.” She said.

I took the ticket from her.  Sure enough, it was my name was on the ticket …

“How did …”

About that time the female ranger walked back over and realizing that we had already worked out the ranger’s mistake, she handed the woman her ticket and with what amounted to an afterthought handed me my driver’s license.  The female ranger had all the enthusiasm of the clinically bored.  She thought about saying something, saw the three of us looking at her, thought better of it, turned and walked back to the state park services truck.  I guess her day already sucked enough and she hadn’t wanted to provoke three angry tax payers who knew that they’d been handed paper for nothing other than some idea of a quota or a need to increase park revenue through the thinly veiled guise of traffic enforcement and public safety.

“They’re more interested in throwing paper at us than making sure that we get the right ticket back.” I said.

“He’s on a power trip.” the woman said.  “She’s not far behind.”

I looked at the ticket and grinned because this was a rite of passage.

I held the ticket up.

Oh, I wanted to keep this piece of paper!

I hoped that I could keep this piece of paper!

It was my first speeding ticket, my very first speeding ticket!  Who knew that a little piece of paper, a reprimand given for bullshit reasons, could bring such a feeling of joy and accomplishment in my life but then I lived my life differently than others.  Others would see this as a failure … I saw it as a rite of passage.

“What did they get you for?” I asked her, not bothering to look up from my ticket.

The woman looked at her ticket, studied it then pursed her lips.

"What?" she asked.

"Your ticket.  What did he cite you for?"

She looked down at her ticket.

“Speeding; twenty-three in a fifteen zone.”

“Twenty-three in a fifteen?” I mused out loud.  “He got me for thirty-five in a fifteen and I was coasting downhill with the transmission pulled all the way back into first gear.  How does he know how fast we were going?  He doesn’t have radar.”

“I think he’s just guessing and trying to get his quota filled this afternoon.” She said.

“He’s not the only one trying to fill something this afternoon …” Rick said slowly, mockingly.

If the woman heard him she didn’t understand that the jab was directed at her.

I ignored him.

Rick didn’t like to be ignored.

Rick liked to be the center of attention so he snatched the ticket out of my hand and started reading over it.  I let him have it.  He mumbled as he read each box of the ticket, skimming it quickly.

I turned back to talk to the woman standing beside the Camaro Rally Sport.  I guess this made Rick even more agitated because he leaned over, shoved the ticket in front of my face and began to gesture as he talked in a voice that was one step below shouting.

“This is bullshit!  You hear me, Shields?  Bullshit!” he said angrily and loudly at last, almost loud enough for the pair of rangers to hear him even where they sat in their truck.

The woman standing beside my Camaro winced.

I winced because Rick was almost shouting in my right ear.

“Total.  Bull.  Shit.” He said as he held the ticket up and stabbed a finger at it so hard that he popped the paper, making a loud crack and almost pushing his finger through the paper.

If Rick ripped or tore my first speeding ticket then I was going to be pissed.  The woman standing next to my Camaro Rally Sport became a little concerned at Rick’s outburst and took a step back away from the Camaro.  Damn it!  Rick was ruining this for me, because I was getting something that he wasn’t … attention.

“What do you care?  You’re not the one that’s going to have to pay it.” I muttered.

“It’s still bullshit.” He said, handing the ticket back to me.

I read over the ticket myself.  Speeding was the only box marked even though the ranger had threatened me with far more.  I was surprised that he hadn’t put a check by the boxes marked reckless driving and racing and I was glad that there wasn’t a box marked “smartass punk” or “kid with a big mouth.”  If there had been such a charge then in my case, I could easily have moved that from a misdemeanor to a felony with little effort at all on my part.

“You can wipe your ass with that … it doesn’t count if it’s in a stupid park.  Those rangers aren’t real cops.  You’re stupid if you pay that because they’ll never come looking for you if you don’t pay it.”

Somehow, I knew better than that.  Especially being a young driver like I was with an almost brand new license.  Everything was geared against young drivers, especially insurance rates for kids like me with fast cars like the one I had.

I continued to look the ticket over.

It felt strange and wonderful to hold that piece of paper in my hand and instead of being scared or mad, I felt a certain kind of awe.  My information was all there, address, social security number, everything from my driver’s license including my date of birth but the ranger had spelled my last name wrong … “Sheilds” instead of “Shields.”  I thought back to the basic rule or grammar that I had learned years ago in elementary school … “You put the letter “I” before “E” except after “C.””

Idiot … but then like I said a basic high school education wasn’t a really big determining factor of if you got to be a park ranger or not.  If you could chase a squirrel away from a bird feeder or piss on a camp fire and put it out they probably hired you on the spot.  I glanced over the rest of the ticket to see what else the ranger had gotten wrong …

There was my birth date but on second glance it was the wrong date.

Huh?

Uh.

Hold on …

I looked at the ticket again.

I had been born in 1969 but the ranger had not only gotten my name spelled wrong but he had put down that I was born in 1967.

That was odd.

I looked again to make sure that the “7” wasn’t just a “9” with a really flat oval, the byproduct of being written in haste and anger.  No, it was a “7” all right, no mistake about it.  Not that it mattered that the ranger had listed me as being two years older than I was but I thought it was still a little odd.

What could a mistake like that on a ticket do for me?

Would that affect how the judge reviewed my case?  Would I have to prove that I was sixteen rather than eighteen?  Could I get off on some kind of technicality because the ranger had made all of these mistakes when he wrote my ticket?

Probably not.

Yeah, it was my first speeding ticket but it was all bullshit and now it was full of clerical errors and stupid mistakes.  I don’t know if that diminished it in any way or not.  I wasn’t quite sure right then.  Remembering how angry the ranger had acted towards me I was surprised that there weren’t little drops of spittle on the ticket.  He seemed to be issuing tickets as fast as he could so it was little wonder that he had made a mistake or two.

“You’ve got your ticket and license back so let’s cruise and find the others.  There’s beer waiting.” Rick whined loudly.

“Yeah, for you.” I said, turning to look at the woman standing next to me.

She had taken a step towards the Camaro, I was sure of it, and she seemed to be waiting … wanting for me to say something.  I felt awkward because I didn’t know what to say.  I felt that I should say … something.  There was this … feeling … in the air, like something was happening but Rick’s whining was ruining the ambience and the mood.  Sometimes Rick could be a real anchor to hang out with.  The woman looked like she was about to say something … there was a pause, a long pause.

Say something, I thought.

“Let’s go, Shields.  Damn it!  We've wasted enough time already.” Rick said loudly.

Yeah, I wasn’t going to get anywhere with Rick whining in the passenger seat.

I needed to say something so I said it.

"Sorry.  We need to go.  We’re supposed to meet some friends from work.” I finally told the woman, thinking it was about the dumbest thing that I could say at the moment and almost wincing after I said it.

“Oh.” She said, sounding disappointed.

“Yeah.” I said, sounding disappointed as well.

And like that it felt like the moment was over.

I cranked the Camaro Rally Sport, put my foot on the brake and shifted from Park to Reverse.  The transmission engaged gear with a dull thud.

“Hey!” the woman said.

“Yeah?” I said, surprised that she had spoken.

“Where do you work?” she asked, just like that.

I wasn’t expecting that and it took me a second or two to recover.  When I did I just threw everything out there for her.  What the hell ... what did I have to lose?

“County Market.  You know the really big grocery store across the highway from Cloverleaf Mall there in Hattiesburg?”

The woman nodded as I started backing out from where we had parked.  I had that nagging feeling … something else needed to be said so I took a chance.  I stopped, hard enough to rock the Camaro Rally Sport on its shocks and hard enough to jolt Rick in his seat.

“Aw hell.  Now what?” Rick asked.

“Shut up.” I told him.

Before Rick could say anything I leaned my head out the Camaro Rally Sport’s window.  The woman had turned and was walking slowly back to her big gold Lincoln.

“Hey!  I just thought of something!” I said loudly.

The woman stopped, turned and looked at me over her shoulder, almost cutting her eyes at me.  She had really beautiful eyes.

She had really beautiful eyes.

“Shields?  What are you doing?” Rick asked loudly.

“Shut up.” I growled at Rick, under my breath.

It was an angry, serious growl.  The kind of growl that promised an impromptu ass kicking if it went ignored.

Rick shut up.

What I was doing was wishing I had an ejector seat on the passenger side, like James Bond’s Astin Martin had in “Thunderball”, but I didn’t say that out loud even though my right thumb kept pressing down on the gear selector button, clicking it on and off, just like it was an ejector seat switch.  Instead, I ignored him ... again.  It was getting easier to do as the day grew longer because Rick had almost used up all of the patience that I had reserved for him.

The woman stood there, looking at me.

Expectantly?

“Listen!  I’m working tomorrow night, four to ten … at County Market.  Why don’t you stop by and see me?” I said.

"You're working?" she asked.

I nodded.

“Tomorrow night?” she asked.

I nodded.

“Four to ten, late afternoon and night shift.  Stop by if you can and we'll talk for a while.” I told her.

She smiled, tilted her head slightly.

There, I’d said it and even though it didn’t feel as right as I wanted it to at least it didn’t feel as wrong as I was scared that it might even though it still felt kind of awkward.  Rick muttered something and I turned to look over my right shoulder to back out of the spot we were parked in.  An incredulous look came over Rick’s face.

“What?!” Rick asked in a loud whisper, laughing.  “What did … ?  Were you just hitting on her?”

“No.” I said, still looking over my shoulder and backing the Camaro Rally Sport into the road.  “I was not hitting on her.”

“Yes, you were!  You were!  You were hitting on her!” Rick exclaimed.  “You were hitting on that old woman!  Dude!  What is your problem?”

“I wasn’t hitting on her, Rick.”

“Yes, you were.  You hit on her and she’s old enough to be your mom!”

“I wasn’t hitting on her.”

Rick laughed, stomping his feat and throwing a little tantrum there in the passenger seat.

“You were hitting on someone’s mom!  Like you really had a chance at that!” Rick chided.

“Yeah, whatever.” I whispered.

And that’s when he really started laughing, rocking in his seat and kicking his feet hard enough against the floorboard of my Camaro Rally Sport that I thought he might dent the metal.

“You are so retarded!” he said.  “Hitting on someone’s mom!  Man!  That's desperate!”

I did a slow reverse J-turn and shifted from reverse to neutral to drive.  The transmission clunked into gear and I took one last look past the over dramatizing Rick to see the woman again.  The woman turned and stood there watching us, her hands were clasped in front of her, her license and ticket held tight.

“Keeps life interesting.” I said.  “If I was hitting on her then the worst that she could do is say no.”

“Or laugh at your stupid ass all the way back to her home!” Rick added.

“Or that.” I whispered as I agreed more to myself than with Rick.  

“Probably wouldn’t be the first time a girl laughed at me for trying to talk to her.  Damn sure won’t be the last.”

If Rick heard that last bit he didn’t comment.  Putting my license and ticket in the pocket on the front of my shirt I slowly drove away from where we had pulled off with all the other cars and their unlucky drivers.  I drove slowly away, keeping the Camaro Rally Sport at around ten miles an hour … and when I looked in the rear view mirror the woman was still standing there, holding her ticket, watching us drive away … just standing there, watching us drive away … and there was a smile on her face.


Rick and I cruised on around the lake, keeping our speed well below fifteen miles an hour.  If I was going to get another ticket from Disco Elmer Fudd it was going to be for going too slow.  Rick and I eventually found our friends on the far side of the lake.  Right from the start I was the brunt of most of the conversation and now that Rick had beer and an audience of his peers he could be the center of attention which is what Rick liked best.  He proceeded to let our run in with the park ranger be known in every single detail.  Rick chided me for not only thinking that the woman in the gold Lincoln was attractive but also for the fact that I had tried to pick her up by inviting her to stop by County Market the next time that I was working.  I endured the good natured ribbing but as I sat there on the wooden picnic table, Pepsi can in hand, staring out across the lake at Paul B. Johnson state park I couldn’t get the woman in the gold Lincoln out of my mind.

Fifteen minutes later, the two park rangers drove slowly by in their pickup truck, checking the various groups of park visitors.  I guess that they had finished handing out their daily quota of tickets and were either moving to a fresh spot to set up their next speed trap or they were calling it a day.  Rick saw the park pickup truck with the two rangers drive slowly by and pointed it out to the rest of the group. The ranger who had written me my first ticket stared at my parked Camaro Rally Sport then leered at me as he drove past.  His look was that of a hair trigger, like he would jump on me again if I gave him even the tiniest excuse to do so and that he was looking forward to the opportunity to do so.

What an asshole … I thought and that was about the nicest thing that I say about the ranger.  The female ranger, sitting on the passenger side, simply watched us with the same tragically bored look that she had had before.  She wasn’t scowling like she had been but she was nowhere near smiling.  I watched them, watched her as they drove past, finally seeing her turn her head to face forward when her interest in us had been filled or she realized that any fun she might get out of hassling us wasn’t worth the effort that went into doing it.

A few minutes later the big gold Lincoln Continental Mark IV cruised slowly by with both windows down.  The woman looked over as she drove past … it looked like she was looking for something … or someone.  Rick noticed the big gold Lincoln and brought it to everyone else’s attention.

“Hey!  Hey, everyone!  Look!  There goes Shields’ new girlfriend!  The one he was hitting on!  She’s as old as his mom!” Rick chided, laughing and nudging me to make sure that I saw the gold Lincoln.

I turned around and watched the gold Lincoln drive slowly by.  The woman looked my way, dipped her head and watched us over the top of her Wayfarers for a few seconds as she passed then looked forward and slowly drove on.  The big motor under the hood growled lowly as it moved all of that metal carefully along at the posted speed limit of fifteen miles an hour.

“… Or should I say your new old girlfriend.  Ha!  I bet you want to Oil of Oh Lay her!”

Rick then started hopping around like he was either riding a bucking horse or dry humping the air in front of him all the while he kept shouting “Oh lay!”

The others in the group thought that was hilarious and laughed.  One even spewed Old Milwaukee right out of his nose as he almost choked on his beer and another simply patted me on the back sympathetically while telling me it was okay, that it was just Rick and that it was just the beer in Rick.  I just smiled and nodded, taking the good natured ribbing for what it was and watching the gold Lincoln as it slowly passed on out of sight down the park trace.  I didn’t know anything about Rick’s sex life but I felt sure that I had had more sex than he ever had and I could count the number of times that I had been with Pam on two hands and about half a foot and that was just since late December.  The more Rick drank the more he couldn’t let go of the idea that I had found the woman in the gold Lincoln attractive let alone that I was actually having thoughts about her and he continued to ride me every chance he got about the situation.  Even though the jokes continued at my expense off and on for the next two hours, becoming more and more vulgar as the beer and wine coolers were depleted, I just couldn’t shake the funny feeling that I had … It was like everything that had happened today had been predestined.  Even now I wasn’t upset about getting the ticket.  

Still … there was just the weirdest feeling to the afternoon, like something in my life that was supposed to have happened had just happened, like some rite of passage had just been completed and not even getting my first speeding ticket could diminish that feeling in the least.  When I thought of the woman in the big gold Lincoln I kept getting the strangest feeling …

... the strangest feeling.

It was a little after seven that night and I was working at County Market on the Front Wall displays with Rick and one of our night managers, Mixon.  I was working with my red bowtie hanging loose, my shirt unbuttoned on the top two buttons and already I was starting to sweat from building the third of seven new displays that Mixon had decreed we would put into the Front Wall that night.  Rick, our previous day exploits still fresh on his mind, just couldn’t let the whole speeding ticket incident go and was reciting it detail by detail to Mixon, laying it on thicker and thicker, as we worked on filling and squaring the displays.

“... And then, to top it off, Shields tries to hit on this old lady by telling her that he worked here at County Market and that she should stop by here tonight to see him when he was working.”

Mixon looked from Rick to me.

“You tried to hit on her?”

“She asked where I worked.  I told her.  I don’t think that was hitting on her.”

“You also told her when you worked and asked her to stop by and see you.  You hit on that old woman!  Admit it!” Rick said.

“Old woman?” Mixon asked.

“Old woman.” Rick said, laughing.  “She had to be in her late thirties … maybe early forties.”

“Forty’s not old.” Mixon said.

Rick got a sheepish look and said nothing as Mixon slung a case of grape Faygo cola into the huge, six case wide display we had there on the Front Wall.  Glass bottles clinked on glass bottles loudly and the whole display rocked back and forth causing Mixon to grimace just a little. I’d seen the kind of mess that a full column of Faygo could make if it came crashing down.  You did not want to be anywhere near that kind of soft drink disaster let alone part of the clean-up crew.

“What did she look like?” Mixon asked me.

“I’ll tell you what she looked like … she was old.” Rick said.

“I was asking Shields.” Mixon stated flatly.

I shrugged my shoulders and used my box cutter to slice the top off of a box of Duncan Hines chocolate cake mix, stuck my hand between the boxed product and the cardboard then made a U-shaped cut across the front to create a display window for the cake mixes.

“What did she look like?” Mixon asked me, again.

I stopped working.

“She was about this tall …” I said, showing Mixon with my hand.  “Nice hair, nice figure.  She had these beautiful brown eyes … and this ... smile.”

Mixon looked at me then copied the motions that I'd gone through.

"This high and a nice smile doesn't tell me what she looks like." Mixon chided.

I shrugged my shoulders, not really wanting to be having this discussion and wondering how it started let alone how I got dragged into it.  Oh, that's right ... Rick started it.

"She wasn't bad looking." I said.

“So she wasn’t bad looking?” Mixon asked, turning to look at Rick in order to give him some grief.

“If she comes in tonight you can judge for yourself.”

Rick put his box cutter down on top of the box he was about to cut for display.

“If she comes in …” Rick chided.  “Which she won’t.”

I shrugged my shoulders, looking back towards the cashiers and seeing Pam talking to another cashier.  Pam caught my eye and quickly looked away.  I thought about the events of the past few months and went back to my task at hand.

I was sixteen.

She was eighteen.

She had been my first.

I had been her second.

She had been a mistake.

“Do you think that she is going to show up tonight to see you?” Mixon asked, stepping between us and throwing another case of glass Faygo soda bottles on the display he was building.  His smile said that he was starting to have fun with this.

“The only place that she’s going to show up is in his dreams … his wet dreams!” Rick said, laughing and pointing his box cutter at me for emphasis.

I shrugged my shoulders again and went back to stacking product and straightening a display.

“If she does, she does and if she doesn’t, she doesn’t.  Never hurts to try.” I muttered to Mixon.

“See!  I knew he was hitting on her!  Like he had a chance!  She’s not going to show, Shields.  No way that woman is going to show up here for you!” Rick said.

“You never know!  She might …” I said.

Mixon was good with that but Rick wouldn’t let it go.

"She's not going to show, Shields."

"Fine." I said, really wanting to drop the topic and just get the Front Wall finished.

“Fine." Rick mimicked.

"Fine." I said, again, and leaving it at that.

But that wasn't good enough for Rick.

"I bet you …” Rick said, digging out his wallet and pulling out a bill.

“You what?” I asked.

“I bet you, Shields.  Come on, I bet you.”

“Bet me what?”

“I bet you five bucks that she doesn’t show up tonight.  I need some folding money for beer after work so what do you say?”

Mixon looked at me and back to Rick.

“Are you going to take that action?” he asked.

“Why should I?” I asked.

“Because taking his bet is probably going to be the only way to shut him up so I can get any work out of him tonight.” Mixon said.

“Then why don’t you pay him?” I asked.

“Because it’s not between him and me, it’s between you and him.  I don’t care if your woman shows up or not or how old she is I just want this wall done by nine and it’s not going to get done if RIck doesn’t shut up and start working.”

I sighed, dug out my wallet from my back pocket and looked inside.  I had a twenty, a ten, two fives and a few loose ones; all I had left until I got paid this Friday.  What the hell, it was only money.  I might as well be throwing it down a wishing well but I was getting tired of Rick riding my case over what had happened.  The truth was that I had done something that Rick was too scared to have ever done … I had talked to a woman.  Just like that, I’d talked to her and flirted with her.  It would be worth a five spot to get him to shut up.  I pulled out a five dollar bill and handed it to Mixon.  He took the five dollar bill from me and then walked over and took the five dollar bill from Rick.

“There’s nothing like easy money except maybe cold beer … especially when you’re paying for it.” Rick said as he laughed in a taunting manner.

“What the hell are you talking about?  I buy most of your beer as it is.  I’m probably the only sixteen year old in Hattiesburg that spends ten dollars a week on beer and never gets to drink a drop of it.”

Mixon laughed at that and Rick fumed.  I went back to working … grabbing up a box of Kellog’s Frosted Flakes and starting to cut it for display in the Front Wall shelf.  Seeing that I wasn’t taking his baiting any more, Rick grew silent, smirking every now and then but not saying anything.  Even if I lost the bet it had been worth five dollars to buy some relief from Rick’s constant jabber and taunting.  Even Mixon seemed relieved that Rick had shut up, if only for a little while but like they said … silence was golden … especially in Rick’s case.  The problem with silence being golden is that sometimes you just had to buy it and it usually didn’t come cheap.

I was a few minutes late getting off work that night.  Mixon had called the bet at quitting time and I’d lost my five spot to Rick who flaunted it at me as he went to buy beer.  He chided me about my taste in women and walked away laughing, snapping his winnings crisply between his hands for emphasis and just to rub it in.

"That was girl money." Rick said.  "Girl money."

Yeah.

It had been girl money.

Who was I fooling?

Rick was probably right but it never hurt to try either; I may not have been the best looking guy walking this planet but I damn sure wasn’t shy.  There was never a need to be shy … if you were interested in a woman, just tell her.  Talk to her, get to know her, ask her out and if she doesn’t want anything to do with you move on because there were millions of women out there and it made no sense to waste any time on just one, especially if she didn’t want to waste any time on you.

You could waste a lot of time with the wrong person and that was time that you could never get back.

Pam had taught me that.

I knew what I wanted and I knew it was out there, somewhere.  I waited fifteen minutes there in the parking lot … waiting for what I wasn’t sure, but I sat there on the hood of my Camaro Rally Sport with my back to the windshield … drinking a Cherry Coke, thinking … watching the traffic pass by on Highway 49 and the late night customers coming and going from County Market and Cloverleaf Mall.  Being a teenager was tough, every day was tough … you had questions that didn’t have answers or nobody gave them to you.  Every day you learned something new and it was usually learned the hard way.

10:18 PM.

The woman from the water park may not have shown up but thinking about her doing just that had been something nice to think about during my shift, helped me pass my time.

“Would have been nice …” I said softly, thinking of her as I slid off the hood of my Camaro Rally Sport.

I hopped in the driver’s seat, started the Rally Sport and slid Bon Jovi’s self-titled cassette into the Kenwood.  I drove away listening to Bon Jovi’s “She don’t know me”, strangely appropriate, and trying to figure out which local fast food restaurant was going to get my money tonight.

I’d spent the week thinking about the woman.  I caught myself looking for her … in traffic when I drove my car, at the mall when I went shopping, everywhere I went I looked for her … for her car … and I never saw her once.  I figured there couldn't be that many old big gold Lincolns in this town or area so spotting her should have been easy but I never saw her.

Thursday was another 4 to 10 shift, get the shopping carts in from the parking lot for the first hour then front wall duty with Brad Davis for the next three hours following that.  Brad was a new guy, first year at Jones, and he’d been at County Market for about two weeks now.  Normally I didn’t like new guys to help me on the big projects like Front Wall, Middle Aisle or Produce and Dairy but Brad was a good worker.  A little slow but a good worker, he learned quick and he didn’t need constant supervision.  You could give him a project and he’d do it.  I liked that so I didn’t mind working with Brad because I knew that he didn’t drag ass and that meant I didn’t have to pick up any of his slack.

The yellow Duncan Hines cake mix display that I’d set up two nights ago was being moved to the right in order to make room for some EZ-Tyme biscuit mix.  EZ-Tyme was good stuff and it was cheap which meant that it sold a lot and that meant that the display had a lot of product movement speed to it.  In other words, you would always be refilling or even rebuilding the display on a daily basis where other stuff you might add a box to it every few days or maybe once a week.  Front Wall was our bargain display, where we sold some of our best products cheap and we hit you with the Front Wall just as soon as you came in the store.

It was sometime around 8pm and I was behind the Faygo display, four feet deep back and under a rack unit, standing on an old wooden pallet topped with plywood and surrounded by old dirty spiderwebs and a bunch of those long, grayish brown granddaddy long-legged looking spiders you saw in places that didn’t get a lot of human visitation.  I hated spiders but I had to move the display of cake mix over and the easiest way to do that was to get up into the display, back behind the product itself, and use my feet to just shove it over the foot or so that I needed it moved.  Otherwise I was going to have to unstack the whole cake mix display and move it one by one and that was the stupid way to do it.  I liked to think that laziness was the mother of all invention and right then I was being pretty lazy moving the display the way that I was doing it but the lazy way worked in my book for both speed and final outcome.  So there I was, behind the display, back against the braces of the shelf unit, pushing with my feet to get the stacked cake mix boxes where I wanted them to go and that’s when I caught a glimpse of her …

Her!

The woman from the water park!

She was in the store and walking past the front registers and down the Middle Aisle displays.  She was dressed casual, yellow shirt, tan slacks and dark colored sandals.  I saw her look left towards the deli and then right towards the medicine aisle, looking for something … or maybe ... someone.  Her brunette hair flowed across her shoulders and a large, soft leather purse was slung over her right shoulder by a single wide strap.

It was her!

My head got a warm flush to it and my heart raced in my chest.  I was sure that it was her!  I pushed the cake display with everything that I had and the display moved, slowly at first, denting the side of the case slightly, but it moved.  It took me a few minutes but I got each of the six columns of the cake display shoved over and then was able to climb out from the dust, the dirt, the darkness, the tight confines, the spiders … and back out into the light.  Brad was waiting outside the display and I reached for his work apron, using it to wipe my dirty, dusty hands off as he looked on in mild if amused anger.

“Why don’t you wear a work apron?” he asked, looking at where I’d wiped my dusty hands on his already dirty apron.

“Why would I want to wear one of those?” I asked.

“Because these things keep your clothes and hands clean?” he said flatly.

“No.  Those things make you look like a dork and only new guys wear those.  They’re lucky I wear one of these stupid red clip on bowties …” I said.

“I’ve noticed that you don’t really wear a bowtie as much as you unbutton your shirt and just let it hang from your collar one ended, dangling.”

I looked down at bare chest, chest hair, my Saint Christopher medal and the dangling bowtie.

“And unless one of the owners of the store decides to show up this is about as dressed up for County Market as I’m ever going to get.”

Brad lifted a box of General Mills Captain Crunch cereal from his green stock cart to the fold out metal tray and pulled out his boxcutter.

“I couldn’t ever get away with half the stuff that you do.  They’d write me up and shove me out the door and I need this job, sad to say.” Brad said.

I shrugged.  Honestly, I did get away with murder at County Market, and I enjoyed every single minute of it but when you were a good worker, a really hard worker, then management cut you a lot of slack.  I brushed myself off, turned to see if I had any dirt or dust on my shirt or jeans and then headed off towards the back as Brad went back to his green stock cart and began to cut open the box of General Mills Captain Crunch cereal that was going in the Front Wall next to the cake mix I had just moved, on the side opposite of where the EZ-Tyme Biscuit Mix was going.  I grabbed my boxcutter, slipped it into my back pocket and walked around by Produce.

“Hey!  Where are you going?” he asked.

“I’ll be back.  Gotta go check on ... something.” I told Brad, leaning back around the corner just long enough to tell him what I was doing then I was off again.

His only comment was a grunt, given without even looking up as he continued to use his boxcutter to cut and shape the front boxes of the Captain Crunch cereal display.  Like I said, Brad was easy to work with, a bit slow but methodical.  It may have taken him twice as long to build a display as it did me but his displays always had this sort of mathematical perfection to them, that photo perfect layout like you see in advertisements in magazines, marketing perfection from any camera angle.  That and he didn’t say much when he worked, nothing much other than what needed to be said so I liked that about him as well.  Sometimes I just needed an extra pair of hands without an extra mouth coming with them.

As I walked down the Produce aisle, I could look down each and every aisle, the width of the store, to see if I could see the woman from the water park or not.  I stepped up my pace … she had vanished from sight somewhere about Aisle 4 which was the International Foods and Magazines and Greeting Cards aisle.  I walked past that, looked down it … nothing but some other customers.  Aisle 5 vegetables, 6 was juices, 7 was canned meats and 8 was sugar and flour … different but all the same with no sign of her.

Where could she be?

I know that I’d seen her …

I moved on past Aisle 10 where we kept the baby foods and rounded the corner where Produce turned into the Meat Department with all of its standing coolers, lean over coolers and counters staffed with smiling red coated employees.  Something about the Meat Department employees always bothered me … It was like they were not only a separate department (we didn’t handle anything in the Meat Department) but how the Meat Department was almost like it was on another planet.  The change in temperature from the rest of the store, the smiling employees who stared at you from behind the counter and lean-over coolers, how they always worked with meat, how they used these big powered band saws to saw up meat custom order, the aluminum tables with rollers way in the back where they slid the raw meat into screaming power saws, the blood on the floor, the pieces and chips of raw meat on the floor and how the red coated Meat Department employees were always smiling, always jovial, sometimes in small groups laughing and smiling like everyone else in the store was part of their little private joke, laughing and smiling like butchers should never be or do.  It was almost like they were characters in a Steven King novel.

I walked around the stand-up freezers that marked the outer boundaries of the Meat Department.

She wasn’t there, either.

I walked past one of the coolers, headed towards where Middle Aisle divided the Meat Department in half.  There were lots of customers here but none of them were her … maybe I’d been mistaken when I thought that I’d seen her but I hadn’t been just looking for her … no, I’d been looking for whoever was wearing the dress, sandals and purse that I thought had been her and still I hadn’t seen any woman in the store dressed like the woman I had seen walking down Middle Aisle.  County Market was a big store but it wasn’t that hard to find one person in the store, not if you knew what they looked like or what they were wearing.

I stopped near one of the end displays on Middle Aisle in the Meat Department, there was a trash can there, a small one.  I flicked open my box cutter, checked the razor blade and saw that it was nicked and jagged, I hadn’t changed the blade in about a week.  I flipped the blade and saw that the other side had been used up pretty much as well so I tossed the old blade in the trash can and pulled a new blade from my pocket, removed the paper wrap from the sharp metal edge and reloaded my box cutter.  I looked up and down Middle Aisle and across the Meat Department, tapping my box cutter flat against the palm of my hand then twirling it between my fingers … looking … seeing nothing.

I sighed, frustrated.

I knew that I’d seen her … the woman from the water park and now I couldn’t find her.  It was like she had just ... disappeared.  What if I hadn’t seen her?  What if I had wanted to see her and had just thought that I saw her?

Then I had another thought … what if she really was here then what was I going to do when I found her?  Talk to her?  I’d thought about her for the last few days, even fantasized about what I would do if she came to see me, what I would say, how the conversation might work out but all of that felt useless right then.  It felt like I had spent three days studying for a major social studies test then found out when I got to class that I was taking an algebra test instead.

I was assuming that she was here for me because I asked her to stop by and it struck me right then that was assuming a whole hell of a lot on my part.

What if she wasn’t here for me?

What if she didn’t even remember me?

What if she was just here to shop for some groceries?

That would be awkward and might even be a little creepy.  I’d find her on a side aisle, walk up to her … Hey!  Remember me?  The kid in the red Camaro Rally Sport from the water park?  We got speeding tickets together and I thought you were flirting with me so I flirted with you and took a chance and asked you to stop by and see me at work and here you are, where I work, just like I asked you to and so I’m going to assume that you’re here to see me.

Suddenly the thought that I might be in way over my head sent a really cold chill of self-doubt up and down my spine … suddenly, finding her seemed like a dumb idea … a really dumb idea.  Suddenly I wasn’t so sure that I wasn’t reading a lot more into the situation than there actually was.

I stood there trying to decide if I should go looking for her or just let it go.  I was lost in my own thoughts when I saw Brad come walking down the Middle Aisle, wiping his hands on his red apron and looking up and down each aisle as he went … searching.  I guess he was looking for me because about halfway down Middle Aisle he noticed me standing there at the end of Middle Aisle at the start of the Meat Department and he quickened his pace towards me … as much as Brad could quicken his pace.  Brad moved like a hobbit … a hobbit on permanent disability.

“Hey!  There you are!  I was looking for you.” He said.

“Yeah.” I said.  “Sorry.  I was looking for someone.  I thought I saw them come in the store.”

“Were you looking for a woman?” Brad asked.  “Yellow shirt, sandals and a big leather purse?”

My world came to a screeching halt.

“Yeah!” I said, probably more readily than I should have and kind of regretting my anxiousness.  “Where is she?”

Brad gave a little smile.

“Is she your mom?” he asked.

“Uh, what?  No!  She’s not my mom.” I said quickly.

“Older sister?” Brad asked.

I shook my head.

“So … Who is she?” he asked.

Even then I wasn’t sure who she was.

“Someone I met a few days ago.  She said she might stop by and talk to me one night this week.”

“She talked to me.” Brad said, smiling.

“Huh?  She talked to you …?  You talked to her? When?” I asked.

“A few minutes ago.  She asked about you.” Brad said.

She asked about you, he had said.  My heart skipped in my chest.

“Where did you talk to her?” I asked him.

“Up on Front Wall.”

I knew then that I had to talk to her.  If she had asked Brad about me then she was here to see me.  I pushed past Brad and started to walk towards the front of the store, each footstep had a purpose and that purpose was to get me one step closer to the woman from the water park.

“She’s not there.  She left already.” Brad said to me behind my back.

… and like that I stopped and waited.  

The good thing about Brad was that he didn’t talk much.  

The bad thing about Brad was that he didn’t talk much.

“She left?” I finally asked, not sure if I heard him right or not and not sure if I had wanted to hear what he had said.  “Like, she’s gone?”

“Yeah.  She’s gone.  She left.”

“Why?”

Brad shrugged his shoulders.

“She seemed like she was in a real big hurry.  She asked Jack about you and he told her that you were up on Front Wall.  She came up there and looked around then asked me if I had seen you.”

“She came looking for me and I went looking for her and we missed each other along the way.  Story of my life …” I said flatly, biting my lip and getting mad at myself.

I sighed and stared up at the ceiling.

"Story of my life." I whispered.

Brad looked at me, waiting.

I took a deep breath and looked at him.

“What did you tell her?” I asked.

“I told her that you had gone to the back for something and she said to tell you that she was sorry that she missed you and that she might catch you another time …

Another time.

“And …?” I asked.

“And then she left.  That’s about it.” Brad said, shrugging his shoulders.

I looked up at the ceiling and then closed my eyes.

“Damn.” I said softly.

I had missed her!

Her!

The woman from the water park!

She had come here looking for me and I’d missed her!

She had come here.

Looking for me.

And I’d missed her!

I let that particular sequence of events rattle around my head a little bit then sighed.  Brad started to walk away back towards the Front Wall then stopped and turned to say something.

“Oh, she did ask me when you were working again and I told her that you were working tomorrow night ...”

I lowered my head and looked at him.

"You told her that I was working tomorrow night?" I asked.

“Yeah.  That was okay, right?  To tell her you that worked tomorrow night?” he asked.

I nodded, still not sure what had just happened only that I had missed it.  I guess my look conveyed something I didn’t want to convey because Brad didn’t say anything … he just shrugged his shoulders and walked on back to the front of the store.  Now I realized how I felt about what had just happened.  I felt sick.  My chest hurt.  The woman at the water park, the one that I had invited to come see me had come to see me and I had missed her.  That might have been a good thing since I hadn’t really known what I was going to say to her if she came in the store.  I mean, I had practiced what I would say to her but that had just been wishful thinking because after Monday night I had doubted that I’d ever see that woman again.

Apparently I had started something between us.  I wasn’t sure what it was but it was something and I had started it and she had come calling at my invitation to the place that I worked.  Yeah, I thought to myself as I headed back towards the Front Wall … I had definitely started something.

But … what had I started?

And more important, where was it going to lead to?

That night I stayed after work for about twenty minutes, just in case the woman from the water park did decide to show back up.  I sat on the hood of my Camaro Rally Sport, my back to the windshield, drinking a Pepsi from the vending machine and listening to Black ‘n Blue’s song “Miss Mystery” off of last year’s Without Love cassette.  It was a song which, I felt at that time, was a pretty appropriate song since this woman had basically swept into my life and everything about her was a mystery.

I was anxious and excited that day.  The whole day I thought about the woman from the water park, I thought of what I'd say to her, how I'd say it ...

All that night I had looked for her but she never showed.  My head was on a swivel all during my shift looking up from what I was doing, trying to see everybody who came in the store.  I’d even volunteered for Front Wall duty, something my manager had jumped at to change and add me to.  He got a great Front Wall worker and I got to be right there, at the front of the store, near the entrance, if she came in to see me.

But she didn’t.

I waited and watched for her, all shift long … but she never showed.

Another four to ten shift at County Market with Rick on the Front Wall was over and done with.  Rick and I had to gather up the shopping carts from the parking lot before we could punch out and leave but that didn’t take long.  All the time that I was gathering up the shopping carts I kept looking around the parking lot, looking for the woman from the water park and her big gold Lincoln but I never saw her.

Rick and I punched out on the time clock, he went to get beer and I went to the magazine aisle to get the latest issue of Hot Rod magazine (the cover spread promising “10 easy modifications” and a “350 IROC Camaro vs. Mustang GT” drag test which I looked forward to reading).  I went through Jeanne’s line to pay for the latest issue of Hot Rod magazine.  Rick jumped in front of me and dropped a case of Bud Lite on the conveyor belt.  I let him go ahead, not seeing any use in pointing out that he had cut in line and not really caring at the same time (especially since it wasn’t my hard earned money he was buying his beer with tonight).

Rick paid for his beer with a twenty then asked me if I wanted to go get something to eat and go cruising with him.  Even though it was a Friday night, I just didn’t feel like it or rather I didn’t feel like spending time with Rick right then.  Rick had backed off almost all the way from teasing me about the woman at the water park when we had worked together but even so I still just didn’t feel like hanging out with Rick tonight.

Not tonight.

There was that weird feeling in the air, the feeling that I’d had all day long, the feeling that I couldn’t shake.  I’d had a full week at school, I had a ten page short story due in English class on Monday and right now, tonight, I just wanted to relax and unwind and to see what kind of trouble I could get into on my own. I needed to clear my thoughts and that was next to impossible to do with Rick in tow with all of his constant talking, his juvenile antics and his incessant need for both beer and attention.  Sometimes the more beer he drank the harder it became to tolerate Rick; he was definitely a person that you liked to hang around but in measured, chosen amounts of time.

Rick hugged his double bagged beer tight to his chest as he walked away like he was the happiest person in the world and I guess, right then and there, he just might have been.  I watched him grab a bag of ice from the cooler at the front of the registers and then walk out the front doors.  There I stood, lost in my thoughts again.  I don’t know how long I stood there but I guess it was long enough.  Jeanne gently threw a small wadded up paper towel at me, the same one that she had been using to clean the glass on her laser bar code scanner, and asked me if I wanted to buy the magazine that I was holding in my hand.  I had to snap myself back to the here and now, unaware that I had been somewhere else, lost in thought.  I slid the magazine and a five dollar bill toward the scanner.  County Market discounted its books ten percent at the register, it basically took care of the tax on the magazine but even so I had enough change left over to get a canned soft drink from one of the vending machines outside on my way to my car.

I took my receipt, grabbed up my magazine, said goodnight to Jeanne and walked out the front of the store into the humid Mississippi night air, taking my red clip-on bowtie and name tag off the first chance that I could and unbuttoning my shirt an extra notch.  I stood there, alone, on the sidewalk at the front of the store and flipped through my new magazine, just doing a recon of the articles while trying to decide what I wanted to eat.  Having the freedom to eat at any fast food restaurant you wanted to was initially great until I realized that after a while they all kind of started to taste the same.  Rick started his faded red Ford F150 pickup truck, cranked his radio loud and drove slowly past me standing there on the sidewalk.  I looked up as he stopped in front of me, brakes squealing slightly and exhaust throbbing loudly.

“Are you sure you don’t want to go cruising?” he asked.

I nodded.

“Yeah, it’s past your bedtime, isn’t it?  Hey!  Don’t wait too long for Mary Poppins to show up!” Rick shouted, throwing his head back and laughing almost maniacally from the driver’s seat.

I shook my head and Rick saluted me with a single middle finger pointed skyward then drove off with Van Halen’s “Runnin’ with the devil” playing loudly through his self-installed aftermarket stereo system.  I closed the magazine and walked to the end of the sidewalk, to the advertisement covered benches and the loudly humming Coke machine.  A patina of insect husks was scattered across the top of the vending machine … a graveyard of winged casualties from the nightly worship of the fluorescent light fixture above it and their inability to ever obtain that which they seemed to desire the most.  I guess life was like that to one extent or the other … just one big tease filled with unfulfilled desire and ultimately undeserved disappointment followed by unearned punishment.

The woman from the water park hadn’t come by the store tonight.

I batted away a few of the flying insects as I dropped some silver into the machine and selected a Cherry Coke.  The aluminum can rattled noisily down from the guts of the Coke machine and I took the cold drink from the dispenser trough, used a clean part of my shirt to wipe the top of the can clear of dust or grime and popped the top.  The Cherry Coke wasn’t sweet tea from Sonic but it was here and now and sometimes that was all that mattered when you were thirsty and tired.  I took a long drink as I leaned up against the metal support pole for the awning of the sidewalk, looking out across the parking lot there on the side of the store where Ingo and Pam had parked their cars.  Ingo and Pam were in the store, probably doing some grocery shopping.  Pam really wanted to play house and that was about all she would ever be good at … playing house with Ingo.  She stayed over at his place more than she stayed in the dorm on campus.  That’s all she thought of life, that it was just one big game of playing house.  If she flunked out I guess she’d just move in with Ingo and work at County Market full time.

And they'd get married.

And they'd have kids.

Maybe not in that order.

After what Pam had put me through I found that ignoring the two of them was easier to do as time went on, even if Ingo had started appearing at the Market waiting on Pam to get off every night that she worked.  I guess if he was overprotective before she had her fling with me then he was more than that way now that she had run back to him.  Sometimes it felt like Ingo was gloating.  It didn’t matter, though, because she wasn’t my problem anymore and he certainly didn’t have much to gloat about.   It wasn't like I wanted her back or I was going to challenge him or anything.  I'd had Pam.  She wasn't much.  If she was his entire world then Ingo was a really sad individual with low expectations.  Sometimes in life there are things that you may think are gold but the only reason you have them is because they’re worthless to other people.  Pam was like that, worthless to anyone but Ingo and Ingo was worthless to anyone but Pam while neither was the wiser for it.  Sometimes life was funny strange like that as well … delicious irony served up when you were the hungriest for it.

No.

There had to be something better out there than Pam.

I just had yet to find it.

I kicked off from the pole that I was leaning up against and started walking across the parking lot towards where I had parked my '78 Chevy Camaro Rally Sport way up the hill under the light.  I was burning Friday night time and that only came around once a week so it was at least semi-precious in nature.

I had to get out of here.

I looked at my watch … It was eight past ten on a Friday night in Hattiesburg, a college town.  There had to be some fun out there somewhere especially on the early start of a weekend … odds were better than good; the only problem was in finding it.  I weighed the possibilities for what they were and took another drink from my Cherry Coke.  There, at the top of the hill at the edge of the parking lot was my ’78 red and black Chevrolet Camaro Rally Sport sitting in the spot that I always parked it in under the utility pole light.  I walked up the hill to my car, changed out of my work shirt, trading it for a black t-shirt that I’d thrown into the back seat of the Rally Sport earlier, sat back down in the driver’s seat and listened to WHSY Rock 104.5 FM while the Rally Sport idled and warmed up.

The warm night air came in through the rolled down driver’s side window.

10:16 the digital green numbers on the Kenwood stereo proclaimed as the sharp, folksy guitar riffs of Jay Ferguson’s “Thunder Island” began.  I hadn’t heard that song in a long, long time and it was an old favorite of mine, enjoyed and cherished long before I could ever drive, call it an oldie from ’78, a long time ago when I was in third grade and music was just starting to be an escape to me.  I put my head back into the seat, relaxing and listening to the guitar riffs.  I took a drink from my Cherry Coke and closed my eyes.  My eyes burned because I’d been up late the past few nights so I kept my eyelids closed, let my eyes rest behind my lids and let my mind wander.  I was going to count to five and open my eyes.  By the count of twenty I still hadn’t opened my eyes then “Thunder Island” was halfway over and I still hadn’t opened my eyes.

“I like that song.” She said from within arm’s reach of my left.

I sat bolt upright, almost spilling my Cherry Coke and turned quickly in my driver’s seat to see who was talking to me, to see who had walked up on me while I was sitting here, eyes closed, listening to my music and not paying attention to anything in the world.  That had been dumb … real dumb to let myself fade out like that.  It could be anyone who had walked up to me there while I had my eyes closed and I wasn't paying attention.

Anyone.

And there she stood … her.

God!

It was her!

The woman from the water park.

I tried to say something but I couldn’t because I was paralyzed from the neck up.

“Christopher?” the woman asked as she stood there next to my Camaro Rally Sport, her arms folded across her chest.

I let out a breath that I didn’t know that I had been holding.

It was her!

No way!

It was her!

The woman from the water park!

The woman with the big gold Lincoln!

“Remember me?  Down at the water park?  We met last Sunday afternoon?” She asked, almost as if reading my thoughts and she gave a little nervous wave before folding her arms across her chest again.

And she was nervous … that much was easy to tell.  I wondered if she was naturally reserved or just really shy?  With not a little effort I found my voice and answered her, hoping that I wouldn’t stammer out of being caught like this by surprise.

“Yeah ... ” I said though not as loud as I would have liked to.

I should have said something else, something more.

“Oh, God!  Look ...  I’m sorry.” she said softly, concerned.  “I scared you, didn’t I?”

I looked around, hoping that I hadn’t spilled any Cherry Coke on me.  Yeah, she had scared me.  I’d totally let my guard down in a place I thought I was safe, waiting on my RS to warm up, listening to an old favorite song, window down, eyes closed, my mind in neutral and far away.  I had been totally oblivious.

“No.  I just shut my eyes for a few minutes, listening to the song there and I guess I got lost in my thoughts.”

“I didn’t mean to sneak up on you like that …  Didn't really think I was sneaking up on you ...”

“Hey!  It’s okay.  I wasn’t expecting anyone to be this far out in the parking lot … it’s one of the reasons I park here, to be away from everyone else.”

"Oh!" she said, obviously thinking about that..

I quickly looked around and there, behind me, was her big gold Lincoln parked perpendicular to my Rally Sport.  How did I not hear that disco tank pull up behind me … I must have really been zoned out to have missed something like that idle up behind me … or maybe she really had snuck up on me … on purpose.

“You do remember, right?” she asked, her look now more concerned.

“Yeah.  Yeah!”  I said, still not really believing that she was actually here.  “We met each other at the water park last Sunday.  I remember.  I mean, it’s not often you get to be part of a group ticket giving set up by a reject from the Village People.”

She gave a soft laugh and then smiled and nodded.

One recurring thought kept running through my mind as I stood there next to my car.  She was here, standing on the other side of her car; the attractive older woman that I had talked to last week at the water park when I got my first speeding ticket!  She was here and she had parked her gold Lincoln next to my Camaro Rally Sport.  I’d thought about her all week long, I’d practiced what I was going to say, what I was going to do when or if she ever did show up and right now all of that scripting I had worked on, all that practicing and waiting for my chance to be cool and smooth had just checked out of my brain and run away from me.

My heart was redlined.

My mind was blank.

I had nothing other than the one fervent hope that my jaw wasn’t hanging open and I wasn’t standing there looking like some awestruck teenage jackass.

She was here.

She was here!

Just the two of us … and then it hit me; she had called me by my name and it wasn’t the first time that she had done that.  She had called me by name last week at the water park as well, like she knew me.  So how in the hell did she know my name?  I had never even seen her before last week and I damn sure hadn’t ever met her before then so how did she know me by name?

That was the part that was driving me crazy trying to figure out.

“I thought you might stop by last Monday night …” I said.

She seemed to think to herself.

“Thought?” she asked.

“Thought.  Hoped.” I said, venturing.

She smiled then and I think she blushed.

“Thought or hoped?” she asked.

What?  

Wow.  

Was she flirting with me?  

I had to think about what she had just said for a second and then I chose my words carefully.

“Both.” I said at last though not as loud as I probably should have but it seemed the best answer I could give with my mouth dry and my throat half way the same.

She lowered her head slightly and when she spoke she spoke softly as well, turning to look off into the distance.  Jay Fergusson finished up "Thunder Island" and Journey's "Wheel in the Sky" started playing on the radio ... another long time favorite of mine.

“I’m sorry.  You asked me to stop by and I really wanted to … but something … some things … came up last minute and I just couldn’t.” she said, seemingly exasperated when she mentioned “things”.

“That’s life.” I said.  “Brad told me that you stopped by last night.”

“Who?” she asked.

“Brad.  The guy you talked to last night.”

She nodded, tilted her head.

“You asked me to stop by and see you and I wanted to … I just had to do it when I could and hope that you might be here whenever it was that I could stop by.”

“And you did.  Last night.  I’m just sorry that I missed you.” I said.

“That was my fault. “ she said, sighing heavily.  “It probably wasn’t a good time to drop by here.  I didn’t have much time, I probably shouldn’t even have stopped by but … I saw your car parked up here on the hill and … I wanted to stop by while I could, maybe catch you at work … and ...”

“And we missed each other.” I said.

“I guess so.  One of the guys in the store, you said Brad was his name …?”

I nodded.

“Brad said that you’d be working until eleven tonight and I wanted to get here in time to see you so … well … here I am.  I finally made it.  Me.” she said sounding somewhat sarcastic then trailing off.

“Ten.” I said.

"What?"

“Ten.  I got off work at ten …”

Her expression immediately took a dive.

“Oh!  Ten!” she said, looking at her watch.  “Oh.  So … you’re already off ... work …”

I nodded.

“Yeah, I punched out a few minutes ago.  Got a book and a drink.” I said, holding up the magazine and the can of Cherry Coke.

She seemed to think about that.

“And if you weren’t off why would you be sitting in your car way out here listening to the radio?  Good one.  Smooth.” She half whispered to herself, chiding herself, nodding in some personal understanding and then hugging herself tight.

“It’s okay.” I said instinctively, trying to reassure her but not knowing why I was doing that or why I would have to.  It just felt like I should do it and it seemed to help the situation that was building between us.

“The guy I talked to last night said you got off at eleven and I was trying to get here early enough to see you tonight.” She said flatly, not even bothering to look up.

“Nope.  I’ve been off the clock for a while now.  I was just on my way to get something to eat.”

“Oh.” She said, yet again, lower, with definite disappointment.

And with that it was like she had said all that she had to say.  I got a sense of impulse from her, like she hadn’t planned much ahead, like she was winging it and that when things didn’t go according to how she had thought they might go she was lost and spinning her wheels trying to compensate.  There was just an instant of silence and then I took up the slack because at that moment in time I felt that if I didn’t say something that we would probably not have very much more to say.  Ever.

“I’m glad you stopped by … Last night and now, tonight.” I said.  “And since I’m off work, now, and since you’re here, now, and since Rick’s not around, now, well … maybe now we can finally talk ...  some.”

I opened the driver's door, stepped out of my Camaro Rally Sport and stood in front of her.  She looked up then, quickly, and smiled.  I watched her as she stood there, across from me.  If we had reached out for each other our fingers would have touched with plenty of overlap.  She was tall and slender, maybe even a bit taller than I had remembered her being.  I’d say that if we were standing toe to toe we’d be nose to nose, a little more or less.

I looked at her and drank her in with my eyes from bottom to top; red painted toe nails, dark brown leather sandals, sun tanned skin, white multi-pocket knee length camp shorts, narrow leather belt, a yellow short-sleeve buttoned blouse and her below shoulder length brown hair.  I doubted that I looked as good after my six hour work shift …

“I came by Tuesday night but I didn’t see your car anywhere in the parking lot so I didn’t stop, I just kind of drove through the parking lot looking for your red car, here, to see if you were working or not.  I guess you weren’t working that night.”

I thought about what she just said.  Wow!  She came by, looking for me, Tuesday night and I hadn’t been here.  So that was a couple of times this week that she had actually come by the store looking for me, I noted to myself.  That gave me more confidence than I was going to let myself have.

“You’re here.  Now.” I offered.

“I’m here.  Now.” She said, almost resigning herself to the fact, smiling.

“I waited on you … last Monday night …”

“You didn’t wait on me, did you?  Monday night?” she asked, concern in her voice.

“A little while, yeah, in case you did decide to show up.” I said.  “I didn’t want you to think that I’d asked you to come see me and then hadn’t really meant it, you know?”

“Tell me that you didn’t wait on me after work last Monday night …” she chided me and there came a blush again.

“I did … but not long.  When you didn’t show up during my shift I waited for you about ten minutes after I got off work and then I left.  Kind of gave you the benefit of the doubt and all …”

“You wanted me to show up, didn’t you?” she asked, crossing her arms and looking at me slyly.

I nodded.

“I wouldn’t have asked you to drop by and see me if I hadn’t wanted you to and I stuck around afterwards just to make sure that you didn’t think that I hadn’t meant what I said.” I told her.
   
“I’m sorry you waited.  You shouldn’t have.  I wasn’t even sure if you meant what you had said to me that day in the park.  People say a lot of things, you know … I learned a long time ago that just because someone says something they don’t always mean what they say.  Sometimes people say things just to … say things.”

“It wasn’t just talk.  I meant it when I said it and it wasn’t … it isn’t a problem.” I said.  “That day at the park last Sunday, I wanted to stay and talk to you then but I had Rick with me and everything was so rushed.  It just got a little crazy there for a while, didn’t it?”

“That’s how it seemed.” She said, nodding.

“It just felt like talking to you would have been … I don’t know … a good thing?  Like talking to you would have somehow made getting the ticket kind of worth it, you know?”

She blushed and smiled.

“That probably didn’t make a lot of sense.” I admitted.

“I think that’s one of the nicest things said in one of the most roundabout ways that I’ve ever heard …”

I shrugged my shoulders because I guess it was.

“Things just didn’t work out that day …”

“Your friend was kind of pushy.” She said.

“Yeah, with Rick whining about wanting to find his friends and getting some beer and me having to do all the driving … it just felt like …”

I tried to search for words, stared off across the highway at Cloverleaf Mall and all the traffic.

“Everything felt really rushed that day.” She said softly.

“Yeah.  It just felt like we didn’t have any time to talk.  That’s why I asked you to come around and see me last Monday night, if you had wanted to … maybe things wouldn’t be so rushed.”

“And I couldn’t … and you waited on me … after work.”

“Don’t worry about Monday night … I usually hang around here a few minutes after work just to unwind, listen to some of my music and figure out what I’m going to do after I punch out.  Just like I was doing tonight.”

“But you did wait on me …”

“I waited because I wanted to see you again.” I immediately winced and I hoped that she didn’t see that.  I hadn’t intended to say something like that but there it was out in the open for better or worse.

She seemed to think about that for a few seconds.

“Did you wait on me after work any other night this week?” she asked, real concern evident on her face.

“No … but I thought about you.” I said.

This time she really blushed.  I could see that condition clearly even in the poor light of the parking lot.  She smelled of flowers, a perfume I wasn’t familiar with but one that was deliciously inviting.

“A little or a lot?” she asked, looking up and giving me that smile again.

Huh?  It took me a second to realize what she was asking me.  Oh, man.  She was flirting.  How do you answer a question like that?

“Sorry.  What did you say?” I asked her, feeling guilty for having been distracted by something as simple as the fragrance of her perfume.

“I asked you if you thought about me a little or a lot?” she said, smiling and turning her head to the side playfully.

She was flirting.  Again.

“A lot.” I said mainly because I had.  “I thought about you a lot.”

She crossed her arms again and looked away across the parking lot towards the highway.  Right then I didn’t care how old she might be because she was a really attractive woman.  Rick could go blow smoke up a monkey’s red distended ass if he didn’t think so …

“You said that you thought about me a lot.” She mused out loud, leaning back against the fender of her Lincoln.  “So … What did you think about the most?”

That was an easy question to answer and I shook my head as I chuckled.

“Your name.” I said, honestly and truthfully.  “I thought a lot about your name.”

“My name?” she asked, obviously surprised and confused by the look of her expression.

“Yeah.  Your name.  Actually, I’ve thought a lot about your name the last few days.”

Her expression became one of obvious surprise and … concern?

“My name?  What’s wrong with my name?” she asked incredulously.

“Nothing, I guess … That is, if I knew what your name actually was which by the way, I don’t.  You know my name but I don’t know your name.” I said.

She was obviously at a loss for words.

“So, you see I thought about you a lot the past couple of days but what I thought about the most was your name.  I spent the last couple of days thinking about you, trying to imagine what your name was, trying on different names for you, trying to see which one fit the best.”

“Which one fit best …?” she repeated softly.

“Yeah.  You know … Susan.  Sarah.  Catherine.  Michelle.  Claire.  Bunny.”

“Bunny!?” she asked, looking up suddenly, laughing, her arms going straight to her side, her shoulders hunching up in an incredulous display.

I waved her quiet, smiling and laughing.

“No.  I just threw that last name in to watch your expression.  You …”

She looked at me in a somewhat serious way, cutting her eyes at me.

“Your name isn’t really Bunny, is it?” I asked, cautious, hoping that I hadn’t just really stepped into it with both feet.

She shook her head and I felt relief.

“You don’t remember my name?” she asked, still the incredulous tone and another look of concern on her face.

“It’s kind of hard to remember your name when you never actually told me your name.”

“You know my name.” she chided.  “I told you my name last Sunday when we talked.”

I shook my head.

“No, you never told me your name.”

"I ... didn't?" she asked.

I shook my head.

“What?  Never?” she asked.

“Never.” I said.

“I never told you my name?” she asked, doubt in her voice directed at me.

I shook my head.

“You know my name and since I don’t think that I ever told you my name either then I figure you got my name from my ticket, you know, the ticket that female ranger gave to you by mistake …”

She thought about that for a second then nodded as a look of sudden and complete realization appeared on her face.  I heard her give a small, surprised gasp.

“You got my name from my ticket, didn’t you?” I asked, smiling.

And now she looked positively embarrassed.

“Didn’t you?” I asked her again, sure of myself and my reasoning this time.

“Yes.” She said, embarrassed. “I got your name from your ticket but I thought for sure I told you my name when I gave you back your ticket.  Are you sure that I never told you my name?”

“Nope.  You never told me your name.”

“You’re sure?  You’re really sure?” she asked, still not fully believing me and with a slight smile beginning to form at the corner of her mouth.

“I’m sure.  In fact, I still don’t know your name … We’ve been discussing this for five minutes now and about all I do know about you is that your name isn’t Bunny and that’s probably a good thing that it isn’t.”

She thought about that for a minute, looking away and going pensive.

“No, I guess I never actually told you my name.  Things were so rushed that day I just thought …” She mused in a voice barely loud enough for me to hear then she laughed quietly, shaking her head at the memory.

“Wow.” She added, softly.

She stopped and sighed, looking down at the pavement.  Another long instant of silence and she bit her lower lip in thought.  She did that a lot, I noticed.  The instant dragged on then she looked up, purposefully … like suddenly she was in charge of the situation which, I guess she was since I felt like more of a bewildered spectator than an actual participant in what we were trying to share at this point.

“So?  What did you finally decide to name me?  Uh, call me?”

“What?” I asked.

“You said you’ve been thinking a lot about my name … what name did you give me?”

I smiled.

“Mary.” I said.  “I finally settled on Mary.”

“Mary?  Why?” she asked.

“I picked Mary because Mary sounds … mature ... and it sounds educated and that’s what I imagined you were; that’s how you seemed to me when I first met you and that seemed like a fitting name for you … Mary.”

She had a kind of natural beauty; a kind of beauty that I imagined didn’t take a lot of upkeep to maintain.  She was the kind of woman that could get out of bed, run a brush through her long hair, throw on some clothes and be out the door without ever touching lipstick or eyeliner and she’d still be attractive.

“Mary?” she asked.  “So out of all of the names that you could think of you picked Mary?”

I blinked and realized that I’d let my mind wander and wonder, again, about her.

“Yeah.  Mary.  Like the old Jimi Hendrix song ... "And the Wind Cries Mary".” I said.  “I thought you were a Mary.  Uh, I mean, I named you … I mean, I thought of you as being named Mary.”

She thought about that for a second then nodded.

“Mary.” She said.  “A bit old fashioned I suppose … but close."

Huh?

Mary was close to her name ... her real name.

"How close?" I asked, curious as to how close I'd come to figuring out her real name.

"My name’s Marie.” She said softly and then she smiled; that same tantalizing smile that she had given me last week at the water park when I’d watched her as I was driving away.

"Marie!  I was close."

"Pretty close." she agreed.

"I hadn’t thought of calling you Marie but now that you told me what your name is … yeah, it fits you.” I said.

And it did.

Perfectly.

Marie.

Her name was Marie.

And now I knew her name.

I finally knew her name.

“Well, I hope my name fits me because I’m kind of stuck with it.” She said, forcing a laugh.

And like that something between us fell away and we were closer.

“And it sure beats being named “Bunny.””

Marie laughed and nodded.

“Yeah.  I guess it does.”

“Marie.  That’s a start.” I said.

“It’s a start.” She agreed.

“Actually, it’s more than a start because it’s a whole lot more than I had five minutes ago.  Here I’ve been thinking of what your name might be all week long and now I actually know.” I said.

“Now you know.” She agreed happily, using her arms and hands for emphasis.

Then there was silence, the awkward kind that I never liked, when the driving energy between two people seemed to start to lose momentum ...  I didn’t feel like letting that happen … not with her, not with Marie.

Not if I could help it.

“For what it’s worth, what I said about the name Marie … the part about that name sounding mature and educated … look, all of that isn’t just a name … that’s what I imagined you were, that’s how I remembered you from the waterpark last Sunday and …” I trailed off, having lost my train of thought and not really sure what I was even trying to say.

Marie smiled.

“I know what you’re trying to say and I appreciate it.”

“I guess tonight I’m saying a lot of stuff the wrong way …” I said.

“I appreciate it when you say it, no matter how you say it.”

“No matter how long it takes me to say it …” I added.

“That, too.”

And then I had an idea.

“Look …  I know that we’ve been trying to catch up with each other all week and all but … it’s late, Marie ...  I had a long day and I just got off six hours of work.  It’s Friday night, I’m hungry and I need to get away from this place and the farther, faster and sooner the better.”

Her expression grew concerned for a second and then she seemed to resign herself.  She had that same look like I’d seen her give at the park when Rick had pitched his little fit and I’d had to drive away, leaving her standing there.

“I … understand.” she said, sounding a little bit disappointed and leaning back on the gold Lincoln in visible reservation.

She lowered her head and bit her lower lip.  This was not the way I wanted the conversation to go …  Not the way at all.

“No, I don’t think that you understand.  I really need to get away from here and …”

Marie looked … what?

Lost?

Dejected?

Rejected?

“… And I’d like some company if you’re not doing anything else right now.”

When I said that a kind of little shudder passed through Marie.

“What do you say, Marie?  Come with me?  Let’s go somewhere.” I said.  “Somewhere other than … here, in this parking lot.  Somewhere that we can sit down and talk for a while.”

Marie looked up then, probably quicker than she intended to because her look betrayed her emotion.  Her eyes lit up, she stopped biting her lower lip and a small smile formed on her face.  She had beautiful brown eyes, dark brown eye brows and thick lashes.

“What did you have in mind?” she asked.

“Just … talk.” I said, thinking that I’d explained it pretty well already.

She shook her head.

“No.  Sorry.  What I meant was where did you want to go to get something to eat?”

“Oh, sorry.  Nothing fancy for sure …” I said.  “God knows I’m not dressed for that.”

Marie gave a little laugh, looking me up and down almost like for the first time but that smile of hers came back then, the same smile I’d see last week at the water park and then again when she drove up.  That smile was amazing in its immediate power to make me desire her.

“How about IHOP over there on Hardy Street?  It’s open late, it’s relaxed; we can hang out there for a while, they let people dressed like me in with no questions asked … which doesn’t speak much for their customers, I guess.”

Marie gave another short laugh, looking me back over.

“And …” she asked.

“And we can talk until we run out of things to talk about, until you get bored with my company or until they run us out of there.”

Marie seemed to think about that.

“I’m buying if you say yes.” I said, throwing that out there to see if it would help her make up her mind or not.

“You’re buying?” she asked, surprise in her voice.  “Why are you buying?”

“I’m buying because right now, tonight, all I’ve got to burn is money, time and half a tank of premium in my Rally Sport here.” I said, patting the fender of the Camaro Rally Sport that I was leaning up against.

I turned, walked around the passenger side of my car and used my key to open the right side door of the Rally Sport, thinking that if I didn’t do something I’d spend the next hour here trying to coax her into going to get something to eat with me and that I’d spend that hour watching her stare at either her feet or the highway out in front of the store.  I lifted up on the handle of the passenger side door and opened it for her.

“I’ve got an empty seat right here, next to me and I’d like some company, Marie.  If you get bored or tired or things don’t work out or … whatever, I’ll bring you right back here to your car, we can call it a night and go our separate ways.  No demands, no promises.  What do you say?” I asked.

To my credit Marie really seemed to be thinking over the idea.  She looked from her gold Lincoln to the empty passenger seat in my Camaro Rally Sport and then back to me standing there by the open door … twice.  It was almost like she was wrestling with something or weighing something in her mind, her face gave that much away.  Finally she gave me a half smile, not that wonderful full smile that she’d given me a few minutes ago, but a half smile nonetheless.  Marie looked off towards the highway.  She was bouncing lightly on her heels as she stood there in front of me … nervous or happy?  It was hard to tell but she still had that half smile on her face so I chose to think it was the latter.

She folded her arms across her chest, lowered her chin and stared at her feet for a few seconds then slowly lifted her eyes to stare at me.  It was like she still wasn’t decided but … close.

“Look.  It’s Friday night.  Come on, Marie.  Good looking guy like me, fast car like this?  I can’t vouch for the food at IHOP but it sure beats standing here in the parking lot in this heat and humidity and making small talk on an empty stomach.”

She laughed, shook her head and cut her eyes at me.  Cut those eyes sharp in a bewitching way.

“You certainly don’t sell yourself short, do you?” she said with that smile again.

So we were back at least to her smiling at me.  I took that for what it was worth and ran with it.

“I’m six foot tall, Marie.  I find it really hard to sell myself short.” I said, sticking my thumbs in the front pockets of my jeans.

Marie threw her head back and laughed out loud then; a good, strong laugh preceded by a short, sharp snort and it was like laughing was something strange to her, like she hadn’t laughed in a long time and like she was happy to do it even though it was something that seemed unfamiliar to her.

“Something to eat, some company and a chance to just sit and talk for a while?  It’s been a while since someone’s offered me all that at one time … with no demands attached.” She mused, lapsing into silence.

“No demands attached.” I said, matter of factly.  “If we run out of things to talk about or things start to drag and you get bored I’ll have you back here at your car before you know it.”

“Fast car.” She said, smiling.

“Fast car.” I said.  “In fact, if you need proof I got a ticket  in this very car just last weekend.”

Marie laughed again.  I waited, now with my arms folded across my chest as she thought some more, looking from me to the gold Lincoln to the Camaro Rally Sport and back to the highway behind me again.  It was now obvious that she was a little nervous.

“So … Is this a date?” she asked softly.

“What?” I said, still not sure if I was hearing what she was saying.  The heavy late night traffic in the background was interfering with me picking up on everything that she was saying, especially since some of the stuff she was saying she was mumbling more to herself than to me.

“A date.  You know, dinner, company and conversation.  Two people, a guy and a girl, together.  That’s what usually makes up a date … last time I remember going on one.”

“Has it been a while since you’ve been on a date?” I asked her.

“Yeah.  It’s been a while … a long while.”

I thought about that.  Why had it been a long while for someone who looked like she did?

“I … guess.  Maybe.” I said, feeling awkward and not really sure where the conversation was starting to drift to or how to answer her.  I didn’t really think I was asking her on a date … just more of a get together.  A date seemed kind of formal, like maybe we needed to get to know each other a bit more before it could be considered a date.

Those are the thoughts that were running around my mind right then.

“So … are you asking me out on a date?  Tonight?” Marie asked, loud enough that I could hear her this time.

I shrugged my shoulders because I really didn’t know how to respond to that.  I thought about the situation and gave it the best answer I could.

“I’d like to think that it’s what you make of it.” I said.  “Just you and me and like I said, no demands, no promises.  We’ll see where it goes … at least for a little while.  I mean, there’s something here, between us …”

“You think?” Marie asked in a sultry voice.

“If there wasn’t, Marie, then I wouldn’t have thought about you all week long … and you wouldn’t have come looking for me at work all these nights like you did.”

Marie nodded.

“Yeah, I guess that was kind of a dead giveaway, wasn’t it?” she mused.  “Not exactly playing hard to get.”

“You don’t have to play hard to get with me; I'm not fond of games ... I like to know where I stand.”

Marie thought about that.

“Come on.  Let’s go.  Just for a little while.” I said, trying to get something definite out of her.

“Just for a little while?” she asked softly with a teasing look on her face, arms still folded across her chest but wearing a big smile.

“Just for a little while.” I said.  “If it turns into a date then it turns into a date.  If not then it doesn’t.  If it doesn’t work out, hey, we’re only out some time.”

She nodded and looked around the parking lot one last time.

“Come on.  Get in.” I said, motioning to my Camaro Rally Sport.  “I’m driving and buying and you’re riding.”

She started to walk towards the Camaro then stopped.

“Wait.” She said flatly.

A cold wave crept up me and I hoped that I hadn’t pushed her too far, that she hadn’t changed her mind.  Marie looked around the parking lot nervously then pointed to the side of the store.
 
“Let me move my car.  I parked funny and I don’t want to leave it here parked this way.” She said.  “Is it okay if I leave my car parked … down there beside the store for a little while?”

“It should be fine down there.” I said.  “At least for a little while.”

Marie smirked at me.

“Meet me over there on the side of the store.  I’m going to park down there.” She said, starting to get back in her gold Lincoln while motioning over to the area on the side of the store.

I watched her as she got back in her car; she didn’t so much walk as she glided.  Glided.

Yeah.  I could watch her move back and forth all day long and never get tired of the swish that her hips had as she walked.  I wasn’t sure what it was that I had going for me or what it was that had caught Marie’s eye and made her interested in me but I wasn’t stupid enough to waste the opportunity that I’d been given.  Whatever it was must be working and I decided to milk it for all it was worth.  I closed the passenger side door of the Camaro Rally Sport, slamming the heavy door shut then walked around and stood there with the driver’s side door open, looking out over the mostly empty parking lot.  Marie cranked the huge gold Lincoln’s engine, put the transmission down into drive and drove slowly across the parking lot.

I quickly traded out my dirty white short-sleeve button up work shirt for a clean black T-shirt that I always kept on a hanger in the back seat.  I opened the center console and dabbed on a few fingertips of Stetson cologne that I kept there to freshen up after work if the situation called for it.  I stood next to the Camaro Rally Sport and looked down to where Marie was parking her big gold Lincoln near the side of the store.  I took a deep breath, got in the Camaro Rally Sport and slowly drove down the hill to meet her, smiling because the last time that I’d driven this slow down a hill I’d gotten a speeding ticket … and met Marie.

I picked Marie up at the side of the store, stepping out of the idling Rally Sport to once more open the passenger side door for her.  This surprised her and she smiled as I let her slide down into the Camaro Rally Sport and I shut the passenger side door for her.  I sat down in the driver's seat, noticing that she had already put on her seatbelt and was halfway turned in her seat to watch me get in the car.  I buckled up and shifted down into drive.

Once she was in my car Marie seemed to relax and we drove in relative silence to IHOP there on Hardy Street with nothing to keep us company except the throaty rumble of the small block under the hood and the quiet roar of the air conditioning turned on high.  Now IHOP certainly wouldn’t have been my first choice for a first date, if this really was a date, but this late at night it was probably the best place left open and the atmosphere certainly was casual if to a fault.  The kind of people that occupied IHOP at this time of the night weren’t the kind to care about who came and went or how long we stayed.  Ten minutes later we were walking into IHOP and being seated by the hostess.  There weren’t many customers at that time of night, the bars hadn’t let out yet, so we placed our order and were served pretty quickly.

Marie was starved for attention and apparently she had been for a while now.  She gave off the air of someone who had been rejected or ignored a lot, someone who wasn’t used to being told “yes” or having someone pay attention to them and I found that strange given that she was an attractive woman.  When it came to conversation, Marie did most of the talking and I was only too happy to listen.  Most of the stuff that we talked about was trivial, nothing deep, nothing personal, but she would get on a tangent and ride it to the end and I was only too happy to follow her along her conversational meanderings.  Sometimes she chided herself for getting too deep into something or going off too far from the topic but I didn’t mind.

Somewhere along the way she told me her last name was Rogers and that she had been born in the state of Washington.  Upper Pacific Northwest.  She mentioned LSU once and hinted that she worked for a company that kept her on the road a lot, sometimes even out of the country, which made for a constantly changing schedule.  Anything past that and Miss Mystery wouldn’t say much, more than living up to the nickname that I’d given to her.  For some things Marie seemed open and willing to talk, for others she became quickly guarded and quiet.  I learned not to force the issue as that seemed to make conversation flow a lot smoother.  I also learned that if I let her, Marie was only too happy to do most of the talking, almost like she hadn’t had anyone to talk to in a long time.  Conversation was easy with Marie, you just let her do the talking and you steered her from there with a kind word or a short reply.

I paid for our dinner in cash, left a good tip for our waitress, got a large to-go cup of sweet tea and looked at my watch; it was a quarter after eleven.  We’d been at IHOP for about forty minutes all told.  When I asked Marie what she wanted to do she didn’t immediately answer.  It was like she was thinking, thinking a little too hard, maybe, or maybe just not ready to give me an answer.  As for me, I wanted to spend more time with her but I didn’t want to do it sitting here at a table at IHOP.  I needed to get mobile, I didn’t like just sitting somewhere … I wanted to be alone with her, just the two of us so I offered her two choices off the top of my head … we could ride around Hattiesburg, cruising, talking and spending time together or if she was bored and had finally had enough of my company I could take her back to her big gold Lincoln at County Market and we could call it a night.

“No.” she said, flatly, in a half-whisper, holding her hands on the table.

"No to ... which?" I asked her.

She looked up at me almost as if she was lost.  There was a second there when it looked like she was almost scared that I was going to call it a night and take her back to her car at the store.  I was a little lost as well because Marie was hard to read, she flowed in waves, sometimes high, sometimes low.

“Don’t take me back to the store ... not yet.” She said and left it with that.

I wasn’t quite sure what she meant by that but her decision was fine with me because it was what I wanted as well.  I smiled because I was glad that I’d have more time to spend with her.  I didn’t know very much about her just that I really liked being with her and apparently the feeling was mutual if I was at least reading that right.  There was just something about Marie … this was all happening so fast and I felt powerless to do anything about it.

“I want to spend more time with you, Marie.” I told her mainly because it was true.

Marie looked up then and gave me a smile.

That smile.

We got up and left.  I held the restaurant door open for her and we walked across the still hot and humid parking lot to my car.  I unlocked the passenger side door of the Rally Sport for her, casually holding her hand while helping her down into the low slung Chevy then shutting the heavy door only after she had belted up and gotten comfortable.

That’s when I realized that I had just held her hand for the first time and that’s when I knew for certain that I liked holding her hand … I really liked holding her hand.

When I got in the Rally Sport on the driver’s side, Marie leaned over slightly towards me, her flowery perfume was still strong enough to attract and confuse at close range.  The force of her presence next to me, her scent, having her move near me, around me so close inside my personal space … it was a heady experience.  I turned, her eyes to mine, and I smiled.  Marie was a really attractive woman and I found it hard to break eye contact.  Inches separated us … it might as well have been miles right then and there.  I could smell her perfume, almost feel her breath and I fell into her eyes, staring … just staring.

“You have really pretty eyes.” I told her before I could stop myself from telling her.

Marie smiled and blushed, looking away slightly and like that the moment was over.

Broken.

Gone.

Yeah.

I cranked the Rally Sport, put it into gear and edged slowly out of the parking lot, turning East on Hardy Street.  I hadn’t gone quite a block when Marie asked me to turn around and go the other direction, back West, back towards highway 98.  I wasn’t sure why she had asked me to do that but I didn’t have anything better to do and if turning the Rally Sport around and going the other way meant that I would get to spend more time with Marie then I didn’t have to be told twice.  I nudged the Rally Sport over into the left turn lane, did a U-Turn at the intersection near the old Avanti Cinema and headed back West on Hardy Street, passing the IHOP where we had just had dinner and continuing on.

She started talking.

She explained that she wasn’t used to manners, that she wasn’t used to someone opening the door for her to get into a car and out of a car, holding the door for her at a restaurant, pulling her chair out for her to sit down at a table … she thought it was all really nice how I treated her. 

She called it old fashioned and she told me not to take that as anything bad.

When I told her that I'd been brought up as a gentleman, she smiled and cut her eyes at me and twirled a strand of her long hair in her fingers.  Her voice was a sultry whisper, barely louder than the air conditioner in the dash but it was doing a number on me when combined with both her perfume and her nearness.  Marie was intoxicating, the kind of intoxicating that could lead you to make poor decisions without regret and the kind of intoxicating that gave me the courage to reach for her hand to hold it again.

My hand found her hand.

She stopped talking, her voice trailing into silence as she looked from my hand to me.

She slid her hand into mine and I held her hand, tight.

A smile crossed her lips.

She cut her eyes at me.

It took her a few seconds to remember what she had been talking about but when she did she started back up where she had left off only now we were holding hands and now she seemed … happier.

I really liked holding her hand.

I found that it was the little things that I was doing, the things that came natural to me that she was eating up like they were coated in honey and cinnamon.  Marie seemed to crave the smallest of attentions, a casual compliment in passing about how she was dressed, a comment on how I liked how her long hair looked or when I told her that she had really pretty eyes … it was the little things like that which she seemed to hang on every word like each word was sugar coated gold. 

Marie, it seemed, had been starved for attention and she had been starved for attention for a long time now.  I couldn’t understand that, not with someone like Marie who was as attractive as she was.  She could have her pick of any man that I could think of so why me?  Was it because I had paid her attention or because I was paying her attention now?  She seemed lonely and she seemed like she had been lonely for a while now.  That was the feeling that I got from how she acted, from how she talked.  I also got the feeling that she was happy with me and that she was happy to be with me … that somehow I made her happy and that she craved that.

Her hand still in mine.

We pulled up at a traffic light and stopped.

“Where do you want to go?” I asked, not sure what she was wanting.

“Just keep driving.” She said softly.  “Let’s just ride around for a little while longer, okay?  I’m enjoying this.”

“I wish we could have done this that Sunday that we first met.  Riding around the lake like this, with you, maybe sitting down under a tree somewhere and just …” I said.

“Talking?” Marie asked.

“Just being with you, like this.” I said.  “This is … nice.  We don’t even have to talk.  Just being with you is nice.”

Marie looked at me, smiling, squeezed my hand then looked back out the passenger side window, losing herself in her thoughts once again.  It was hard to read her, if I could read her at all.  She was here then she was gone again.  When she was here I was her focus, when she was gone again she was on her own.

I had said that we would drive around and talk but she did most of the talking and I did a  whole lot of driving.  I drove west on Hardy Street, past Elam Arms, past the Junior Food Mart / Eagle’s Nest, past the Krystal, and the Western Sizzlin’ steak house all the while managing to hit every single damn red light that Hattiesburg had to offer along the way.  There was a quiet between us, a silence but it wasn’t an uncomfortable silence like before in the parking lot at County Market.  No, this silence was the kind you could lose yourself in with someone else at your side, the kind of silence when two people seem to be so in tune with one another to the point where no words need to be spoken.  It wasn’t so much silence as it was simply quiet togetherness, the kind that has the promise of a coming certainty to it that is almost tangible.

I was content to let the radio do most of the talking as I sipped sweet tea from my Styrofoam to-go cup.  WHSY Rock 104.5 FM was playing some good songs right then; we had left IHOP listening to the last part of The Eagles “Tequila Sunrise”, followed by Fleetwood Mac’s “Rhiannon” and now ZZ Top’s “Rough Boy.”  Lately I’d become quite partial to ZZ Top’s “Rough Boy”.  The video to the song, playing often on MTV, was a science fiction special effects laden extravaganza.  Marie, apparently, had finally run out of things to talk about because she lapsed into silence as we drove.

We had the windows of the Rally Sport rolled up, driving with the air conditioning on to fight the ever present south Mississippi humidity and heat.  Marie rode with her legs crossed at the ankles, leaned over slightly towards me in her seat, her left elbow resting on the center console and our hands still together.  Marie had great legs and I caught myself looking over at them every chance that I got.  She caught me doing that twice and offered no reproach sterner than that now familiar coy, knowing smile … that same spellbinding smile that she had given me all night long now.  I guess she was eating up that attention as well because when she caught me looking at her legs she blushed, looked down and then back up at me … expectantly?

I wanted to put my hand on her leg.

I wanted to run my hand up and down her leg.

I wanted to feel the warmth, the smoothness of her skin with my fingertips.

All of these thoughts ran through my mind like a runaway locomotive as I held her hand.

We drove slowly west down Hardy Street, got on Highway 59 at the 98 / 59 interchange and I started driving north on Highway 59 towards Laurel.  Loverboy’s “Queen of the Broken Hearts” was playing on the Kenwood and Marie still sat quietly, looking out the window of the passenger side at the passing scenery and occasionally back at me.  She sighed one time, loudly and when I looked over I saw that she lost in thought, again.

Where was she?

There was an uncomfortable silence between us.

Should I say something?

Should I do something?

This was all so quick, so … strange, that I was lost.  I felt like I was being dragged along … like my life was on rails and all I could do was hold on and let whatever it was that was going to happen take me all the way to it ... but to what and to … where?  I’d thought about this woman a lot in the last week, played out scenarios in my mind for if she actually came to see me, rehearsed what I would say to her, even entertained fantasies about her … but now ... now that it was happening, now that everything was playing out the way it was I felt lost.  All of this was beyond anything that I'd imagined would happen, beyond anything that I'd ever rehearsed or planned for.  So far the best I had been able to do was think twice before I said anything and to be as private as I could without being rude or obnoxious.

The old saying “God gave us two ears and one mouth so that we should listen twice as much as we talk” kept coming to mind tonight and I was doing plenty of listening.  Marie, it seemed, was happy to talk and all I had to do was pay attention to her and every now and then give her a simple affirmation or confirmation of what she had just talked about.  She talked and I listened ... and took mental notes.  Slowly but surely I began to build a picture of her ... her past, her life.  All I had to do was let her lead and just follow her.

So far it had almost been easy.

So far.

I thought about taking the off-ramp that would have let me head north on highway 49 to Jackson.  I’d have gotten off at the Pep’s Point exit and cruised the back roads until I came out near North Forrest High School then made my way back to Highway 59 somewhere around Eatonville.  That would have been a good cruise, I’d done it often enough when I wanted to be alone but tonight I wasn’t alone and something told me to stick close to the city.

I took the off ramp at the Highway 49 / Highway 59 interchange and headed south on Highway 49, back into Hattiesburg.  Up ahead, just past USM, was Hardy Street and further on down the highway was County Market.  The digital clock on the Kenwood stereo said it was 11:35.  When we got to the stoplight at the intersection of Hardy Street and 49, Marie turned to me and asked me to take a right by USM and I did, edging the Rally Sport over into the turn lane and onto Hardy Street, heading back towards IHOP.

Back the way we had just gone.

“Where do you want to go?” I asked her, looking over at her.

Her hand still in mine.

Something in her had changed.  Before she had been quiet, undecided and now she seemed decided, committed.  She had made up her mind about something, something that she had been wrestling with since she first got in my car back at County Market … that much was easy to see.  She had been lost in thought before.  Now she seemed focused and out of that focus came a single imperative.

“Drive.” She said.

Okay.

“Where to?” I asked.

“My place.” She said, softly, looking up at me, a smile on her face.

Huh?!

“Your place?” I asked and immediately regretted asking it because I sounded so confused when I said it.  I was just glad I hadn't stammered it out.

“Uh huh.” She said.

“It’s not far.” She added quickly.

Her hand gripped mine tighter.

Tighter ... then lessened.

“What about your car?” I asked.

She shook her head.

“You can take me back for my car later.  You said it would be okay if I left it there for a while.” She said.

Later?

How much later?

I looked over at Marie and she had a look in her eye, a look that I’d never seen in a woman before but one that was instantly recognizable to any male of the human species, ingrained through thousands of years of masculine development and dominant heritage.  If I believed in the theory of Evolution and if I actually believed that somewhere down my family line there used to be some Neanderthal ancestors then the emotions, the feelings and the urges I was having for this woman were all communicated between us in a simple, held stare.  I nodded and nothing more was said because I really didn’t know if anything should be said and I felt that if I had said something … if I had said anything … it probably would have just sounded dumb anyway so I kept my mouth shut and I drove.


Her place, as it turned out, was a two bedroom apartment at Chateau Grand so true to her word we didn’t have far to go once we hit Hardy Street … just a bit past the IHOP and down near the University Mall.  We had passed this place about fifteen minutes ago.  This time, as fate would have it, I managed to get all green lights on the way.  There was a certain amount of anticipation between us and I felt that I probably had the greater share.  I was treading water here.  I felt like I was in over my head, way over my head and the only thing I could do was my best.  I just hoped it was good enough.

The night felt heady as I drank the last of the sweet iced tea from my IHOP to-go cup.  Her perfume was carried on the currents of the Camaro Rally Sport’s air conditioning, blowing on the third out of four fan speed settings, and I drank her scent in.

Chateau Grand.

I’d seen these apartments often enough, from a distance, near the University Mall, behind the Pizza Hut and the old Bonanza steak house but I’d never been to these apartments before … mainly because I’d never known anyone who actually lived here.  No friends.  No relatives.  The Chateau Grand were older apartments populated by older people; they had been here since before I could remember which was at least back to the fall of 1976 when my family had moved to Hattiesburg and the apartments had been old or seemed old even back then.  They weren’t the oldest apartments in Hattiesburg … but they were damn close.

“Turn here and take a left ...” She said quietly and I did, putting my turn signal on … tic-tic-tic … and edging the Rally Sport into the turn lane, turning by the familiar red angled roof of the Pizza Hut that I’d frequented since I was a child and driving down South 37th avenue.

She had me make another left on Essex Street where I turned left again onto North 35th Avenue.  I turned into the complex’s parking lot, pulling up at the rear of the apartments and she pointed to a parking space between a sky blue 1965 Ford Mustang convertible and a faded dark blue on blue full size 1979 Chevy station wagon.  I glanced up and down the row of vehicles ... a late '70's white Chevy pickup, a tan Chrysler New Yorker, a white Buick Lesabre, a white Chevy Citation X-11, a dark blue Chevy Impala, a baby blue rusted Chevy LUV pickup that was jacked up in the back, a old yellow Ford Futura and a Mercury Cougar.  All in all it looked like a used car lot and not a high end one at that.

I pushed the console mounted shifter up into park, stomped down on the floor mounted parking brake, turned the Rally Sport off and sat there.

Suddenly there was nothing but the slight hiss of the air conditioning dying in the dash.

My heart was racing so loud I thought that Marie could hear it.

A quick glance at my watch told me it was 11:48PM. 

Marie sat there ... looking at me … waiting? 

Yeah.

I quietly took a deep breath, got out, tossed the keys in the air and caught them in my hand as I walked around the back of the Chevy and opened the passenger side door for her.  Something was going to happen.  I could feel it.  Marie was waiting patiently for me to open her door this time and she slipped sideways in the seat, lifting her legs together at an angle out of the Camaro Rally Sport and reaching a hand out, quietly asking for me to help her get the rest of the way out of the car.  Her legs would have made her a great dancer … if she never had been one.  Man, she had great legs.  I held out my hand to help her climb out of the low slung Chevy and she took my hand; it was more than just a friendly grip … she had a hold on me like she didn’t want to let go … and she didn’t … even when I helped her out of the Camaro Rally Sport.

We were holding hands.

Again.

It was the second time tonight that I’d touched her, that my skin had been against her skin, and I knew that I wanted to touch her more; a lot more.  The feeling that I was getting from her right then and there, mixed with the looks that she had been giving me during dinner and on the way over to her place was that what I really wanted from her probably wasn’t going to really be a problem … not tonight.

Not with her.

My head was swimming from how fast this was all happening and from what little control I felt I had over what was happening.  We stood there, separated by inches, her hand in mine, our eyes staring into each other’s.  An eternity seemed to pass where no words were spoken, nothing was said, it was only Marie and myself, holding hands, and enjoying each other’s touch.  She reluctantly let go of my hand and I shut the car door behind her then locked the Chevy.

“How long have you lived here?” I asked.

“A while.” Marie said.  “Would you like to come in for a drink?”

“Yeah.  I think I’d like that.” I agreed.

“Good.  I think I’d like that, too.” She said, smiling, then turning and walking away.

I stood there for a few seconds.  Marie had just invited me back to her place and invited me in for a drink.  No woman had ever done that before.  I took a few seconds to relish that being a definite “first” in my life.  I looked up and saw Marie looking at me expectantly.  She had stopped after a few steps and turned around to see why I wasn’t following her.

Why wasn’t I following her?

What the hell was wrong with me?

Get it in gear, Shields, I told myself; get it in gear!

I chose not to say anything, merely nodded, caught up and fell in step behind her.  Marie smiled at me then dug her keys out of her purse as she walked ahead of me.  I followed her across the complex through the simple courtyard to her apartment.  Her sandals tapped out each foot step across the concrete sidewalk, my own boots doing the same, out of sync, and creating a weird staccato that echoed in the enclosed breezeways.  I took the time to admire her gait again and the swish of her bottom in those camp shorts as she walked ahead of me.

Feelings in me began to stir.

Feelings for her.

I may not have had much experience with women but I wasn’t exactly naïve. 

Wary?

Maybe. 

Expectant? 

Maybe. 

Cautious?

Hell, yes.

Marie unlocked the apartment, flipped on a few lights on the wall behind her and leaned up against the front door, holding it open for me as I walked by her and then on inside.  The apartment had a neutral smell to it, not new, not old … just there.  It smelled like it was partially lived in, like one of those demo units that apartment complexes sometimes have set up to show potential renters.  Light scents of fruit or flowers tickled my sense of smell while an artificial cold that was in stark contrast to the heat and humidity outside was much more noticeable.

“Nice place.” I said.

“I like it.” She said.

I started to look around the apartment … it seemed an unconventional layout. The front door had opened into a wide living room, there was what I thought was probably a porch to my left just outside the living room though heavy drapes obscured the view.  There was a closet just behind the front door, and a door to a bedroom across the living room and to my left.  The living room branched off into an eating area and the kitchen next to that.

“I’m going to step to the back …”

When I looked at her questioningly she smiled that smile again.

“Have a look around if you like.  Make yourself at home ... I won’t be long.” Marie reassured me, pushing off from the wall.

I nodded, watching Marie walk across the living room to the bedroom, enter and close the door behind her … and like that I was left alone in a strange woman’s apartment with nothing to keep me company but my irresistible curiosity and the irrepressible need to find out more about just who I was with and just how far down the rabbit hole I had tumbled.

Her apartment was painted in dark earthy tones that had been popular in the 1970’s but here in the ‘80’s seemed out of place, almost medieval in outlook.  The carpet was dark colored, the paint on the walls was dark; it was just a dark apartment that seemed to soak up any light.  It was also sparsely furnished but what it did have was tasteful and well done.  I looked around, curious, wanting to know more about her because I barely knew her name let alone anything about her and yet here I was.

In her apartment.

Invited in for a drink.

No diploma on the wall; no framed and displayed professional certificates of any kind.  The artwork that was on the wall was dated, classical, what you might find in an older person’s house … much older than Marie appeared to be.  There was a large tan sectional sofa, a tan love seat with ottoman, a mismatched chair and a half with ottoman, two end tables, a glass topped coffee table and a tan recliner with a tan ottoman all apparently from the same manufacturer and grouping.  I slightly revised my opinion of the interior decorating by moving the period back to early 1970’s Mexican family restaurant estate sale but it did somehow go with the colors of the apartment.

There were a few Celtic crosses, medieval looking iron candle sconces and various pieces of artwork and relics that looked tribal but definitely were not African, not as far as I could tell but that was only because I thought that they didn’t have the look that a typical African piece should have.

Polynesian?

Samoan?

What did I know?  I didn’t have the background to know for sure but the relics and tribal art were scattered all around the apartment, on almost every surface or hung on every wall.  It was almost like a small museum but from what culture I still couldn’t be sure.  Maybe it was a mixture of cultures or just one culture through various historical periods.

Odd but neat.

The spacious living room turned to the right into a dining area.  There was one of those old paintings depicting an old man, eye glasses folded, praying over the bowl of soup and some bread.  I’d seen that painting way back in first grade in the mid ‘70’s in my classroom.  The painting was hanging near a small oak dining table.  Heavy wood, thick, well made and dark stained.  Two equally well built chairs were placed at the dining table.

Either she ate alone a lot or she didn’t expect a lot of company.

Or … she was alone … and had been alone … and ate up every bit of attention that someone might give to her because she was lonely.

Things clicked in place … sort of … or at least some of tonight seemed to make a little more sense.

The only photos I found were near some built-ins on the front wall.  The built-ins looked recent, even handmade.  There were several color photographs but none of them were of Marie … The photos showed a man, obviously American, bearded, fat and older, and a woman, half his height (and half of his age and weight by the looks of it), very petite, thin and obviously of South American descent.  She wasn’t pretty by any standards other than, I guess, the standards that belonged to the man in the photos.  He seemed to be enjoying her company because there were enough smiles shared between them.  The backgrounds were varied and exotic, no two alike … but who was the man in the picture?

A friend?

A coworker?

Her father?

Her grandfather?

Her aunt and uncle?

Her husband?

No.

Not a husband. 

Marie wasn’t wearing a wedding ring. 

Still, that didn’t mean anything. 

A woman at work was married and she never wore her wedding band on her finger.  Marie could have her wedding band and engagement ring zipped up in her purse for all I knew … or cared, I realized with a slight smile as the thought rolled through my head.  Right then I didn’t care if Marie was married or not … I was here, she had asked me in for a drink, and I was going to play this for as much as I could get out of it.  I thought back to the ridicule that Rick had put me through last Sunday and Monday night over Marie and I smiled.  If he could see me … us … now … his jaw would hit the floor.

“Go to hell, Rick.” I whispered as I thought of Rick, out there, somewhere in Hattiesburg, riding around in his old beat up red Ford F150 truck, drinking Bud Lite, listening to Van Halen and trying to convince himself that he was having fun on a Friday night.

If I had taken Rick up on his offer then I wouldn’t have been around when Marie had stopped by looking for me and I certainly wouldn’t be here, now … but where exactly was I?

Was I in trouble?

Was I in danger?

After all, what did I really know about Marie?

Trust your instincts, I told myself.  This didn’t feel like trouble … or danger; no, this felt eerily serene.

Calm.

New.

Strange.

Wonderful.

... Like it was supposed to happen.

I felt like I was on rails, like I was in a roller coaster that was creeping along and I was belted in for the ride.  I looked around and thought that whether I’d stepped through the looking glass or fallen down the rabbit hole it wasn’t that bad looking of a situation from where I was standing.  I looked up at the built-in book shelves, simple but sturdy.  The books on the shelves were all heavy in weight as well as content, all theological in nature, tomes on religious beliefs from around the world, travel guides to places that I would never have considered going to and classic literature in hardbound, very old editions plus the occasional dictionary in English as well as other dictionaries in a variety of other language editions.  There were also Bibles in various editions as well as various languages.

Now that was a little strange.

Marie lived in this dark apartment, surrounded by a large variety of reading material of a deeply religious nature and highly intellectual level along with what looked to be genuine artifacts of historical and/or religious relevance.  If the stuff in her apartment wasn't real then it was a bunch of really good fakes.  Was Marie a teacher, perhaps a professor of theology or religion at the university?  Was she some kind of archaeologist?  That might explain her busy schedule that she had talked about but, no, she said she worked for a company that kept her traveling.  Did the company sell bibles?  Suddenly I realized that I had no idea what Marie did for a living but the more I tried to think of what she might be the more intrigued I became and the more determined I was to find out all I could about her.

Hell, I could be sharing a drink with the tit-slinging equivalent of Indiana Jones for all I knew.  A thought crossed my mind … a naughty thought of her and a brown fedora, an old leather jacket, a gun belt, a bullwhip, boots … and not much else.  Yeah, I’d pay full admission price to see something like that.

Marie was definitely Miss Mystery.  I smiled and started whispering the lyrics from the song to myself.

“You know I had this funny feeling that you were coming for trouble but I never knew so here I go just running after you.”

I walked back over to the separated kitchen and found a plastic salt and pepper shaker, shaped like an old woman and an old man.  The two figures stood in a ceramic base that said “Nicaragua.”  A toothpick dispenser said “Brazil” on it and showed a painting of a rain forest.  The refrigerator was stocked with soft drinks and your basic run of groceries; butter, bread, eggs, cold meats, juices.  Some of the other stuff seemed exotic, foreign specialty foods that I knew that we didn’t sell at County Market … the kind of foods that you would have to get from a dedicated supplier like a mom and pop grocery store where the owners didn’t speak any English and neither did the containers the food came in.

The woman in the pictures …

The drawers were full of basic kitchen supplies; silverware, napkins, placemats, one held old bread loaf twist ties and stacks of cut and uncut coupons though many of the coupons were out of date by weeks or, scattering a few of the ones on top to see the ones below, outdated by months.  The refrigerator held another mystery; a whole bunch of magnets in the shape of faraway places and labeled as such; Peru, Venezuela, Portugal, Spain, Colombia, Bogota, Chile, Mexico, South America … and still more, some from places I didn’t think ranked a name on a magnet.  A magnet held a church bulletin with some highlighted prayer requests, the bulletin itself was dated for a Sunday four weeks prior, from some non-denominational church in Laurel; a church I wasn’t familiar with.

Preacher?

I didn’t know of any women who were preachers.

Preacher’s wife?

Having an affair with a preacher’s wife was a guaranteed ticket to hell if ever there was one.

Preacher’s sister?

Might not be the express train to hell that a preacher’s wife was but probably close; call it flying coach instead of first class.

I shook those thoughts from my mind and went back to thinking of Marie as some kind of sexy world hopping, bullwhip cracking archaeologist instead.

I heard water running through the pipes in the other end of the apartment, perhaps a toilet flushing and a minute later a door being unlocked so I finished up my random snooping, pondering why someone would have such a large collection of refrigerator magnets from so many different countries?  She said that she worked for a company that required her to travel a lot but what did Marie do for a living?  When she said that she travelled a lot I thought she meant around the United States but maybe she meant travel around the world.  Travel like that took either a good job or a good bit of money and an equal amount of time.

Was she a stewardess on an airline?

That would explain the travel but not the interest in religion.

Did she work on a cruise ship, maybe out of New Orleans?

Again, travel but not the religion.

Did she work for the government?

Did she work for the university?

Was she here from somewhere else or did she barely live here because she was always on the go, always somewhere else?  I guess the answer was the same as why someone would have a large collection of photographs, of people other than their self, in picture frames out on display in their apartment.

Miss Mystery … or was it Mrs. Mystery?

I realized that I was taking a lot for granted without knowing a lot about Marie.

I heard her open a drawer somewhere outside the kitchen, footsteps, the sound of a box of matches opening and a match being struck to life.  Long seconds passed and then she walked back in and stood next to me in the kitchen.

She was barefoot.

Painted toe nails, a deep wine color.

I'd missed that earlier and she had been wearing sandals.

Her long hair was brushed and she smelled of flowers, stronger now, freshly applied and her fragrance mixed with her physical nearness was almost overpowering in a sensual way.  I closed my eyes and slowly, deeply breathed her in.

“I really like your perfume.” I said quietly, slowly opening my eyes.

She had moved closer to me while my eyes were closed, so close now that we were almost touching.

“It’s from Rio, from a little open air market.” She said, softly, moving slowly around me from my right to my left, almost touching, almost brushing up against me.

Teasing.

“Rio?” I asked.

She nodded and made an mmmmm sound.

“Rio de Janeiro.”

"Brazil?" I asked. 

"Last time I checked that's where Rio was." she said, smiling.

Dumb, Shields.  Of course Rio de Janeiro was in Brazil.

“Go there often?” I asked intrigued since this was another piece of her past that I now knew about.

“I’ve been a few times.  Mostly business.  Travel.  Not lately, though.  I haven’t been back down … there … in a few years ...” She said, trailing off into silence.

I was about to ask her what she did for a living when she flicked her head and her long hair back then leaned back against the refrigerator, her arms and hands behind her cushioning her back, supporting her.  Her look said that all of the small talk, what there had been of it, was done with.  Marie had the look of a woman who had already made up her mind.

“Have that drink with me?  Now?” she asked cutting her eyes at me.

Yeah.

No more small talk.

“What are you offering?”

Marie bit her lower lip and looked around the kitchen.

“There’s a bottle of red there in the stand.” She said, motioning with her eyes to the counter top near the refrigerator.

I spotted the bottle of wine but it really wasn’t my first call for a late night drink, more like something that we should have started the evening off with if we had gotten an earlier start to the evening.  The truth of why I wasn’t fond of red wine was that the last time I’d had wine I’d tried to get drunk off of it.  Oh, I’d made a mess of things with that little exercise and ended up throwing up red vomit all into a friend’s toilet all the while promising God that if the mess in the toilet bowl in front of me wasn’t fresh blood from my disintegrating stomach lining that I’d never abuse wine like that again.  So far, God and I were keeping our gentleman’s agreement.

“I’m not real big on wine. Got anything else?” I asked, hoping that she did.

She looked at me then, that smile came back, and she nodded with her head this time to a different part of the kitchen … never taking her eyes off of me.
 
“I know you said that wine wasn’t your favorite but it’s a good vintage.  I had a glass last night but if the wine isn’t to your liking then I’ve still got other stuff ... gin, vodka, most of a fifth of whiskey.”

Whiskey.

“Whiskey is fine.” I said, steering the topic back to something that I could stomach.

“Whiskey it is, then."

"Besides, wine’s more for  small talk and I think we’re past all that.” She added with a slight smile.

I really didn't have anything smart to say to that, the best I could hope for was that my expression wasn't that of dumbstruck.

“If whiskey is what we’re drinking then there’s a bottle of Jack Daniels and some shot glasses in the cabinet there by the sink.  Can you handle that?” she said, nodding with her head in the direction she wanted me to look.

“Drinking or pouring?” I asked, never taking my eyes off of her.

“Both.” She said, leaning there against the refrigerator and running her eyes over me.

I moved over closer to her, standing near her, partially blocking her against the refrigerator.  She had started to flinch, to move ever so slightly out of my way and then she gave a slight quiver as she stood her ground.  Our eyes roamed over each other and finally met, point blank range.  I could feel her breath and as I moved just a little closer I could hear her catch her breath and hold it.  And there she was, doing it again, biting her lower lip, looking at me … expectantly.

“I take my whiskey neat.  You?” I asked.

“Same.” She said quickly, letting her breath out again and matching the tone of her voice to mine.

I pointed up to the cabinet where she had nodded her head towards and she nodded again before slipping past me, almost touching me as she went, teasing, again.  I watched her glide by and she stopped halfway through the threshold, reached out, and leaned up against the threshold, placing her whole body against the trim and molding herself to the door frame.  She turned to look back at me, cut her eyes and gave me that smile again as she moved off.  She threw one last glance back at me and as she did so there was that look again, like I was being anticipated.  She ran her hand through her long hair and played with it as she glided around the corner with that tantalizing swish of her bottom in those camp shorts.

Barefeet on vinyl.

Barefeet on carpet.

I stood there for a second after she was gone, took a deep breath, slowly let it out and shook my head.  I kept trying to figure out what I had hold of here or what had a hold of me but I still didn’t know for certain.  Did I really need to figure it out?  I thought about that as well.  Marie had made up her mind ... so ... why hadn’t I made up mine?

The cabinet by the sink wasn’t so much a cabinet as it was a hidden bar with a cabinet door on it.  I stood there, staring at the contents of the cabinet … it was like an all you could drink liquor buffet, an alcoholic’s wet dream come true.  Inside there was whiskey, bourbon, vodka, wine, and a bottle of tequila with US customs stamps on it.  If Marie kept this cabinet stocked then she had a varied and intense taste for the bottled spirits.  All in all, there was some serious hardcore alcohol and liquor in a space that was only three feet tall, a foot and a half deep and two feet wide by my first guess.  Since it wasn’t advertised I guessed that it wasn’t something that someone wanted everyone to know about and since it wasn’t secured I guessed that no one under the age of consumption had access to it in this apartment … except for me, tonight, now.

Whiskey.

Oh, I’d developed a taste for whiskey several years ago, at a sleep over at a friend’s house while his parents were out on the town.  I was thirteen and he was fourteen but we thought that we were grown.  That first time I held that bottle of Jack Daniels in my hand … it looked so good, that dark liquid inside the glass.  The smell almost took your breath away and the first taste did.  I thought I had been poisoned but seeing my friend’s reaction I decided that I wasn’t going to make as big a fuss as him and so I took another drink.

Fought it.

Took another.

Fought it.

Somewhere in that personal battle I realized that this would become routine the more that I did it.  After a few drinks from the bottle I started to feel funny … good, but funny.  Then I started to feel great.  The world got kind of out of sync, I felt funny, funny things became funnier.  I liked this feeling, this weird, funny, out of sync with the rest of the universe feeling that I was having and I had started something, something that would only grow with me the older that I got.

My adventures with whiskey became as regular as I could make them and I was the first thirteen year old to get a hangover among my friends.  I’d been smart enough to take a shower the next morning, brush my teeth and go through two mouthfuls of mouth wash to get any trace of the whiskey off of me and my breath.  I guess that I’d succeeded in that.  When my mother asked me what was wrong I’d told my mother that it was fatigue from staying up too late and playing too hard and she believed me.  After that, I worked on my tolerance as much as I could, matching my intake to what I knew I could hold.

The first time that I threw up whiskey taught me that throwing up whiskey wasn’t something that I wanted to do ever again … or do often if it could be avoided.  The more I drank, the better I got at it.  Overall, I think I’d done all right because by the time that I was fifteen I could drink any of my friends under the table and even some freshman as well as a few sophomore college students if I had to, if the parties that I’d been invited to and had stayed all night at were any indicator of my ability to drink and hold my liquor.  Hell, I’d even won a few bets along the way as well, surprised a few people including myself on an occasion or two and made a few mistakes along the way but every party you could walk away from was a learning experience.

There we go … found you.

I had to move an unopened bottle of Taaka vodka to get at the whiskey and I found both Jack Daniels and Johnny Walker there at the back.  I grabbed the bottle of Jack Daniels out of simple taste preference; it had been opened but was still almost three quarters full.  That familiar label … I think I would have drank it even if it had some pirate age skull and crossbones on it.  I grabbed the bottle of whiskey and a pair of shot glasses, thought better of that and grabbed two tumblers instead then shut the door on the liquor cabinet and walked on out of the kitchen with my hands full of good stuff waiting to happen.

Right then there was nothing between Marie and I but air and opportunity.

The rest of the apartment was darkened now.  The candles in the wall sconces had been lit, the lights had been turned down low with their dimmers and the room was bathed in flickering candlelight.  I guess that took me a little by surprise and if I felt that surprise I hoped that my face didn’t show it.  She stood there, barefoot, beside the small brown oak dining table.  There were only the two chairs and the only decoration present was an artificial magnolia floral center piece on a green trimmed, vanilla colored runner that draped a good bit of material off each side of the table.  Two tall white candles burned one to each side of the floral center piece and I knew what she had been doing before she had joined me there in the kitchen.

She watched me with curious eyes as I set the bottle of whiskey and the two tumblers down on the table.  The way that she kept looking at me … it was almost like I was some kind of present and she couldn’t wait to open me up.  She seemed ready to spring, to pounce, but always holding back, anticipating but never following through and being all the more spurned for it.  Her looks had become those of a patient, restrained animal.  It was exciting and scary at the same time and I began to wonder just who was teasing whom.

“You didn’t see the shot glasses?” she asked, curious.

“I did … but I saw these instead and thought better of it.” I told her, holding up the tumblers.

“Well, I guess it’s up to you since you’re pouring.” she said.

“That’s kind of how I saw it ... ” I said, nodding to myself and glad now that I had chosen the tumblers instead of the shot glasses.

Three years of playing around with the good stuff that comes in the kind of fancy bottles that adults feel the need to hide away in the tops of their closets and in locked cabinets had given me a pretty good background in what I liked, how I liked it and what it did to me if I liked it a little too much.  A deep buzz was a wonderful thing but it had to be carefully maintained and I’d gotten quite good at it in the past year.  I could keep a buzz, a really good, deep buzz, going for hours without losing it or tossing my cookies … the secret was moderation and pacing yourself; liquor wasn’t something you went after hamfisted, no, it was practiced, it was a dance and it was nothing if it wasn’t choreographed to the inner music of your own soul.

Marie said something but I was lost in my thoughts.  Damn.  Why was I letting my mind wander so much?  

Why here?  

Why now?  

Being with Marie was just … easy.  There was something about her that I felt comfortable with and that made me let my thoughts wander.  I snapped back to the present.

“Sorry.  I was … thinking.  What did you say?”

Marie smiled coyly.

“I asked if you were always like this?” she asked, running her finger around the rim of the tumbler as I twisted the top off the bottle of Jack Daniels, sniffing the aroma of the bottled spirit, finding it both familiar and to my liking.

“Like what?” I asked, not sure what she was asking.

“Sure of yourself.  Easy to be with.” She said.

“You mean ... cocky?” I asked.

Marie shook her head.

“No.  Not cocky.  More … confident … than cocky.  Cocky is just arrogance trying to be sure.  It’s empty for the most part.  I don’t get that from you.”

I shrugged my shoulders because I really didn’t have an answer to her question.  Her own answer to mine had been deep enough for me to take a few seconds to mull it over.

“So?” she pressed.

“So … what?” I asked, still not sure what she was asking or what she wanted.

“So … are you like this most of the time?”

“Most of the time.” I said because I’d learned that as well from experience when I was fifteen years old and had started going to my first college age parties courtesy of some of the guys that I worked with at County Market.

“I guess I’m just not used to that in …” she said and trailed off.

“Never mind.” She whispered.  “It doesn’t matter.”

Silence.  Pensive.  I began to wonder exactly what it was that she was used to … being alone?  Being ignored?

“So … What are you like the other time?” she finally asked.

I snapped out of my wondering thoughts.

“What am I like the other time?”

“Yeah.  What are you like the other time?”

I smiled.

“The other time I’m really quiet and hoping not to get noticed by all the useless and boring people as I’m making my way out of the nearest door.” I said.

Marie laughed softly at that as I poured a finger’s worth of whiskey into each tumbler then set the bottle down, picked up the two tumblers and handed one to her.  She reached over and took the glass that I was holding back for myself.  I let her have it then held up the offered glass as if in a toast.  She raised her eyebrows just a touch when I did, cocked her head and bit her lip again, just a little.  I hadn’t figured out if that was a nervous habit, if she knew she was doing it or not, if it was some kind of “tell” or what but damn, when she did it I liked it when she did it.  It was sexy.

“A toast?” she asked.

"Two people, candles, whiskey ... seems like something needs to be said."

She smiled then, just a little, maybe somewhat amused ... maybe just interested.  I looked at the whiskey in the glass then at her.

“To you, to me, to us, and to good whiskey.” I said coming up with something off the top of my head.

It sounded okay once it was out there … not good, not bad but okay.  Marie nodded in silent agreement to the impromptu toast and we touched tumblers with the sound that glass makes when it meets glass.  I held my glass up to the candlelight, swirled the whiskey around in the glass, looked at it again then held it up close to my nose.  Man-made ambrosia.  They say that smell is the greatest trigger of memories and when I sniffed whiskey the familiar smell ran through my nose like chain lightning, my mind exploded in memories of all sorts, most not even related to my days of drinking.

The smell of whiskey.

Liquor stores that my mother and grandmother had taken me into when I was really young ...  Walking among the rows of bottles and colored liquids, trying to imagine what all of these bottles were for … seeing the giant Beefeater statue, the old musket on the wall, and all the other displays for the various liquors with their old time depictions of horses or cowboys or people from a different era.  I remember the smell of liquor stores … that wonderful aroma of brewed spirits all mixing together but it was the aisle where the whiskey was that I really liked walking down.  I could stand there with my eyes closed and just breathe the scent of bottled whiskey in and out.

I loved the smell of whiskey, almost as much as I loved the smell of burnt rubber, of gasoline … of the scent of a woman held tight in my arms.  The first two I could lay experience to on with almost a weekly if not daily occurrence, the whiskey less so.  The latter had been few and far between but nonetheless enjoyable when it was to be had and I’d had enough so far to know that I liked what I’d gotten.

Here, now … whiskey in a tumbler.

Marie.

Candles.

Her smell.

The smell of whiskey.

Her being close to me.

Barefoot.

The hint of things to come.

These were the good things in life, monumental good things and that’s what my first drink of whiskey was ode to, right then, right there; all of those things.

I closed my eyes as I put my glass to my lips, drank deep, feeling the whiskey hit my tongue, letting it flow across the inside of my mouth and I held it there, basking in the flavor of the spirit.  After a few seconds of quiet contemplation I let the whiskey do its warm, slow burn all the way down my throat.  It was a familiar fire and one I’ll admit that I’d not been intimate with for a few weeks now, far longer than I should have.  However, the good thing about drinking whiskey was that it was a lot like riding a bike: once you got the basics, you never forgot how to do it and the more practice that you put into it the fancier the tricks you could do to impress your friends.

“And that … is good whiskey.” I half whispered mainly because it was and it had been a while since I’d had a drink.

I opened my eyes to find Marie watching me with her drink still in her hand.  Her look held questions.

“You seem to take your whiskey pretty seriously.” She said, smiling, arms crossed and holding her own tumbler close to her chest.

“Is there any other way to take whiskey?” I asked.

Marie seemed unready for my return question and she thought about it for a few seconds.

“I suppose not.  You just got me curious for a second there is all.” She said as she sipped on her whiskey.  “You’ve got your own little ritual.  Most people just drink the stuff.”

“I’m not like most people.” I said.

Marie smiled then and looked at me like she was trying to evaluate me on some level.

“No, you’re not.  You’re definitely not.” She said, raising her glass.

She took another drink of her whiskey.  Her expression said that I had more experience at this than she did … a lot more experience which surprised the hell out of me since there was such an obvious difference in our ages.  Maybe there was a big difference in our backgrounds as well and how we took our pleasures, what we were used to and what we expected out of life itself.  I took my tumbler and belted back my second swig of whiskey, draining the glass.  She managed to take another sip of her whiskey without the obvious grimace and slowly twisted in place to the inner music of the whiskey beginning to do its charm.  Her eyes stared into mine.  She had pretty brown eyes that seemed to almost glow in the gathered candlelight.

Whiskey brown eyes.

I’d once read that you should always compliment a woman’s eyes.

“You have really pretty eyes.” I said because the truth was that she did.

“You told me that already, tonight.”

“Yeah, but I couldn’t see your eyes like I can see them now.  I thought you had really pretty eyes before but …  

"But ... what?" she asked.

"But now I’m sure of it.”

“And how are you sure of that?” she asked in a whisper.

“The candles here … they really bring the color in your eyes out.”

Marie blushed then, held her glass close to her chest using both hands and continued to stare at me.  She wanted to say something … but didn’t.  I could see it in her face.  Maybe it had been worth saying but it hadn’t been the right time to say it or she didn’t know how to say it.  I watched as she raised her glass again, sipped down the last of her whiskey and confidently held out her tumbler for a refill.  I picked up the bottle by its neck and poured myself another finger as she slid her glass up next to mine.

I may not have known what Marie’s game was tonight but as it stood, it was late on a Friday night, we had spent dinner together talking about a whole lot of nothing in particular and now we were back at her apartment.  Candles had been lit, I was on my third finger of whiskey, she was on her second finger of whiskey and we were on a first name basis.  A little voice in my head told me that it couldn’t get any simpler than that.

My watch said it was 12:11 PM which meant that I’d been here at Marie’s place a little over twenty minutes and here we were sharing whiskey in tumblers from a bottle of Jack Daniels.  Neither one of us was feeling any pain, in fact, the apartment with its dark wood furniture and leather appointments all lit by candlelight were really starting to relax me.  She sat her tumbler down on the dining table and I stood beside her ready to pour her more whiskey when she reached up and put her hand over the top of her glass to cover it.  I tilted the bottle back and took a step away as she picked up her tumbler, held the glass dangling in three fingers at her side and slowly walked back into the kitchen.  I took my tumbler and the bottle with me as I followed her.

Marie stood there at the kitchen sink, looking out the kitchen window with her back to me, lost in whatever thoughts … or regrets … that she might be having.  She finished the whiskey in her tumbler then rinsed it out under the faucet and put the glass in the sink upside down so it would drain.  I stood there next to her, looked at the bottle of whiskey and put it on the counter top.  I took a sip of my whiskey and held the tumbler in front of me as I stood there, next to her.

“Marie?” I asked softly.

I wasn’t sure where we were or why we had reached the point that we now stood at.  She lowered her head just a little but said nothing.  There was a pending quiet between us, the feeling that the silence should lead to … something … but neither one of us seemed sure as to what that was or how to make it happen.  It was almost like there was an invisible wall being built between us, one brick at a time, one row of bricks at a time, and I could almost hear them being put into place.

Marie sighed heavily and it seemed that she was … frustrated?

I took a deep breath as well and another drink of my whiskey, staring off across the dimly lit kitchen and trying to understand just where I was and what kind of situation I was in.  I had the feeling that I probably didn’t have much time to figure all of this out … if it really needed to be figured out at all.

I was blowing this … that much was obvious.

I felt like I was screwing up something that was being handed to me, something monumental and opportunistic.  I felt that time was running out and once whatever chance I had was gone then it would be gone forever and I’d probably regret this missed opportunity for the rest of my life.  That was the set of feelings and thoughts that I had right then.

There was an opportunity here, an opportunity for me, for her, for us, for there to be something between us but something just wasn’t clicking, maybe I just wasn’t clicking, and that opportunity was fading.  I turned in time to see the clock on the countertop change from 12:15 to 12:16.  Just like that, another minute gone, another tick of the clock past and what was I doing but using my boots as anchors and staring at a little bit of whiskey that was left in my glass.

I looked over at Marie.

She didn’t look back.

Touch her, I thought to myself.

Touch her, damn it!

Just reach out and touch her!  Rub her arms, caress her shoulders, lift her long hair up and kiss her there on the bare skin of her neck, lean close and whisper in her ear … do something!  The worst that she’s going to do is turn around and slap you or tell you to stop it or maybe ask you to leave but if you’ve come this far I doubt any of those things are going to happen.  You flirted with this woman last week at the water park.  You asked her to come see you at work and this woman came to see you Tuesday night, Thursday night and now tonight, at work.  She came looking for you … she came looking for you at the place you work, just like you asked her to.  Three times she came to see you.  You’ve spent the last week thinking nonstop about this woman and tonight she came to see you and you took her out to get something to eat and then she invited you back to her apartment for drinks.  This woman has freshened up in the back, she’s shared a bottle of whiskey with you … She’s barefoot, she’s lit candles all around the apartment and cut the lights down and that wasn’t because she wanted to save electricity.

Are you getting it yet, Shields?

There’s no one here but you and her.  You and her and she invited you back here so that she could be alone with you!  You’ve been here almost half an hour and besides some small talk the best you’re doing is standing here trying to figure this situation out and trying to figure out what to do next?  What the hell is wrong with you?  What the hell is there to figure out?  Do I need to draw you a picture of what you’re supposed to do with a woman like this when she acts like this to you?

Are you even listening to me?

Fine.

Here’s what you do, Shields; you either start putting out or you start getting out … right now.  If you don’t put out, be the Boy Scout and tell her that you’re sorry but you can’t do this then take her back to get her car at the store then you can go home and go to bed … alone.

But …

… and I promise you this …

… if you don’t do something to her, with her, tonight, right now, then you will remember this night for the rest of your life as the night that you didn’t grab what was there to be grabbed with all you had for all it was worth and you didn’t make it … and her … yours.  You will remember this night for the rest of your life but you won’t remember it with anything except a whole bunch of what-ifs and a whole lot of regret.

Yeah, that much was obvious.

I took another sip of whiskey and glanced sideways at the small clock sitting there on the countertop; 12:17 AM.

Put out or get out, make a decision, Shields, and make it now.

And, like that, I made my choice.

“Hell with it …” I muttered as I drained almost the last of my whiskey in one long swallow.

I put my glass down on the countertop, probably harder than I should have, on the other side from where I had placed the bottle.  Marie jumped slightly at the thud of glass on counter top and tensed as I stepped up behind her … was she shaking a little?  I thought I saw her tremble.  I reached out for her, with arms and hands that felt like they were made of solid lead and twice as heavy.  I stopped halfway then slowly reached the rest of the way for her. 

It took a lot more effort than I thought it would have.  The last few inches that separated my fingertips from her skin seemed less like inches and more like miles.  Marie turned her head slightly, dropped her chin and closed her eyes, like she knew what I was about to do … like this was what she had been waiting for.  She rose up just a little on the front of her feet like she was anticipating me … I could see that she was biting her lip and … she  was slowly moving her head up and down like she was listening to some song that only she could hear.  I put my hands on her arms just above her elbows, stepping in close, and began to slowly run my hands up her arms, across her shoulders, to the edge of her neck, touching … feeling. 

This is what I wanted to do. This is what I’d wanted to do since I’d first put eyes on her that Sunday afternoon at the water park.

She let out a long sigh, went back flat on her feet, swayed slowly there, under my touch and I continued to slowly, softly rub her, moving across her shoulders, down her arms and back up again, slowly, gliding my fingertips across her bare skin.  I slid my fingers back up her arms, across her shoulders and touched her long hair.  I used both of my hands to slide my fingers slowly up the back of her neck gently pushing through her long hair before running my fingers back out again, slowly, dragging my hands and fingers through her long hair as I went.  Her hair was warm, soft, silky and smooth.  It flowed through my fingers like dry water and fell away in long strands.  I moved in close, stuck my face into her long hair and breathed her in deep.  She smelled of shampoo, flowery, something I had no idea what it was but somewhere in the back of my lizard brain whatever the scent was it woke up the caveman in me.  I breathed her in and she pushed her head back against mine, rubbing her head against my cheek and my head, sighing.  I moved back from her, running my fingers through her long hair.

Her hair was soft … so soft.

I wanted to touch her … I just wanted to touch her.

No.

I wanted to do a lot more than that to her; in fact, I wanted this woman like nothing I’d ever wanted before … and I was going to have this woman if she gave me half the chance.  Marie was new to me, she may have been older than I was but everything about her, every part of her that I touched and every part of her that I felt was new to me.  She was so different from Pam.  She was so different from any other woman I’d been with.  Marie had experiences that I didn’t.  She could give me experiences that I’d never had and that I very much wanted right here and now.  That’s how I felt about her, about being with her.  She was something that I wanted to experience, to have, to be with and to explore.  Marie was a safari, an adventure waiting to happen, an unknown territory to explore.  There was a long stretch of time there when I had touched her that I had expected her to tell me to stop or I had expected her to turn around and either grab my hand or even throw a slap at me but she didn’t …

She hadn’t. 

In fact, Marie did something that I didn’t expect her to do … She tilted her head back towards me, arched her back and gave a deep sigh.  Her back bowed, her groin and hips went flat against the countertop and her shoulders leaned back towards me as her head fell back and her long hair went slack.  Her full breasts jutted out under her yellow blouse.  Her eyes were closed and her lips were pursed, partially open.  She let her long hair fall straight back towards the floor and I ran my fingers through it.

Soft.

Flowing.

Like dry water.

I rubbed her long hair against my face, breathing her scent in again.  I reached up as close to her head as I could and slid my fingers back in through her long hair, gently gliding them slowly back down, all the way to the end of her long hair.  I did this several times, every other time that I did I pulled on her long hair, gently, tugging her back towards me just a little.  When I pulled on her long hair she either sighed or moaned.

“I like that … when you run your fingers through my hair slowly … like that.” She whispered.

I took my time, running my fingers through her long hair, letting her long hair slowly fall between my fingers.  I ran my fingertips up the back of her neck, behind her ears, over the top of her head, pressing, massaging.  Marie moaned softly and gripped the countertop to keep from falling backwards as she balanced herself against my advances, almost rising up on her tip toes.  I clenched my fingers tight and pulled her long hair back then, steady but firm, causing her to groan louder and grip the edge of the counter harder with both hands.  Marie made a soft sound like a low growling tiger and then a sound like a whimper.  I kept running my hands and fingers through her long hair, pulling, slowly then harder and harder until her head was actually being pulled backwards and she was moaning, trying to pull her head forward against the strain of my grip.  She made noises that I had no experience that a woman would make … or could make.

“Pull my hair.  Like that.” She said between clenched teeth.

I did.

“Pull it … harder.” She groaned softly but firmly.

I pulled harder, using my grip on her long hair to bend her even further back towards me. Her breath quickened then and she adjusted her stance, grabbing onto the counter top so hard that her fingertips went red and her knuckles went white.

“Harder.” She whispered.

“Harder?” I asked, not sure if I had heard her right or not.

“Harder.” She whispered through clenched teeth and hot breath, turning her head slowly from side to side.

I pulled her long hair back, hard, working both my hands up into her long hair and grabbing two handfuls of her long hair, moving down and gently but firmly pulling as I went, moving down slowly and out to her shoulders and letting my fingertips glide across her skin there as she growled out a long, deep moan that sounded more animal-like than human.  I pulled her long brown hair back, hard, as I pressed myself against her, my groin to her bottom, pinning her against the counter top from behind and she bucked back, making noises that I’d never heard any woman make before, they were primal noises, almost animal-like growls and whimpers.  She slowly moved her hips, grinding her bottom backwards against my groin, into my groin, into my growing desire for her.  I stirred and moved forward, pressing my groin to her bottom, pressing her against the cabinet in front of her and holding her tight against it.  She in turn pressed back against me, her breath coming in quick pants, groaning and growling down low.

What the hell did I have a hold of?  

Strangely enough, “tigress” was the word that popped into my mind right then.
 
“Let go.” She said suddenly, pushing back against me more determined now.

Huh?

“Let go.  Please.” She said again, softly but firmly this time and I did, taking a step back from her and unpinning her from the counter as she caught her breath in quick pants.

Did I do something wrong?

Had I gone too far?

Marie, her back still to me, looked up at the ceiling and sighed deeply … or maybe she was catching her breath.  She paused, just long enough for me to worry that I really had gone too far with her then she quickly reached up and hurriedly unbuttoned her blouse, three buttons down from the top, with fumbling, shaking fingers.  She tilted her head to one side, letting her long hair flow to the left as she pulled her now loose collar wide exposing the right side of her neck and her shoulder.

Bare, tan skin, the kiss from the sun over a long time, lightly sprinkled with freckles.

She turned to look over her shoulder at me as she cut her eyes and held her blouse open like that, expectantly.  She nodded towards me, nodded for me to pay attention to what she was showing me.  I reached up and lightly ran my fingertips across the bare tanned skin of her right shoulder and neck and I could hear her catch her breath again and hold it.  Soft, warm tanned skin under the touch of my fingertips.  I moved in closer, my head against hers as my fingertips traced her bare skin.

“Kiss me.  Here.” She said, pointing to her neck.

I did.  Slowly at first, moving up and down her neck and shoulder, finding what bare skin I could and putting my lips to her flesh.  I could smell her perfume.  Each time that I kissed her, my lips to her tanned skin, I could smell her perfume on her skin.  Her eyes were closed.  Each time that I kissed her, my lips to her tanned skin, she would draw in a sharp breath and hold it.  I moved slowly across the area of bare skin that she had shown me, kissing softly as I went.  The fifth time that I touched my lips to her bare skin she whispered …

“Kiss me … harder.”

My hands on her hips, holding her, my body pressed up against hers … I nibbled her there where her neck starts to rise from her shoulder and she made a low, guttural moan, grinding her bottom back against my groin again.  I pressed into her and she pressed her bottom back.  I felt her skin in my mouth, my tongue gently flicked her skin before I closed my teeth down on the nape of her neck.  She tasted … clean and dirty and salty and sweet.  Her perfume was intoxicating, mixing with her natural scent, and I drank her in with every breath I took.  I nibbled again, harder, and she moaned deeper, rubbing her head back against mine.

“Harder.  Kiss me harder.” she moaned.

I did.

Once.

Twice.

“I want you to bite me.” She whimpered.

Whimpered.

I stopped what I was doing because I didn’t know if I had heard her right or not.  When she noticed that I had stopped, she turned her head to look at me over her right shoulder.

“Bite you?” I asked in a whisper.

“Bite me.” She whispered again.  “On my neck.  Here.  Just like you were just doing only do it a harder.”

“Bite you?” I said, still not sure I had heard her correctly.

“It’s okay.  I want you to.  I like it.” She whispered.

It was okay, she wanted me to and she liked it?  

Jesus!  

This was something totally new to me!

Marie used her fingers to show me where she wanted me to bite her and I did, lightly, with my lips acting as a cushion between her skin and my teeth.  It didn’t seem very effective or erotic to me, more like a really soft pinch.  In fact, I had trouble applying any pressure while trying to shield her skin from direct contact with my teeth.  I thought I was doing okay.  Evidently I was being too gentle and evidently I was doing it wrong.

“No.  Use your teeth.” She said in a low voice, louder now than her whispering had been.

She pointed to a spot on her neck halfway to her shoulder so I did, with my teeth, lightly.  I clamped down and held her with my teeth, feeling my breath hot on her skin as she moaned and writhed against me.  I pressed myself into her, pinning her against the counter again as she writhed against me.  The smell of her perfume, the taste of her skin in my mouth … my fingers dug into her soft skin and she moaned.  I bit down again, pinched up her skin between my teeth and I flicked my tongue across that pinched up skin, left to right, slowly.  She moaned deeply.

“Bite me harder.” She whispered in a growl.

“Harder?” I asked her in a whisper as I moved my lips near her ear.

She reached back with her right hand, put her hand on the side of my head and pulled me to the side of her head.

“I want you to.” She begged in a hushed voice.

I moved down to where she had showed me and bit her then, slowly increasing the pressure I was applying to the spot she wanted me to and she let go with a moaning growl again.  Marie shook slightly, raising and grinding her bottom against my groin, putting her head straight back, then moving her head slowly to the left side where her long hair slapped against my face.  Her eyes were closed but her mouth was open and her expression was one of pure, strained ecstasy.

“I want this.” She moaned. 

I bit her, on the neck.

Once.

“God.  I want this.” She moaned.

Twice.

Goose bumps rippled up her arms, I could feel them under my fingertips.

“You’re giving me a fever.” She whispered, her voice going low and sexy with a heavy emphasis on the word fever.

She dropped her arms, her right hand found mine, her fingers spread to fill in between my fingers and then clenched tight, her left hand came up to find my left hand, her fingers meshed with mine while I still held her head.  I took this as it was and continued to work her shoulders and neck with my mouth, tongue and teeth.  She shuddered again and moaned there in my arms as I pressed myself into her, forcing her against the counter.  She leaned back into me and I bit her on the shoulder, even harder than before.  Marie let out a long, pained whimper.  A quick shudder ran through her entire body, then another little shudder.  I let go of her hands and wrapped my arms around her from behind, running my hands up and down her body.  Her arms came up over her shoulders, her hands grabbed my head and pulled me into her.

“God, you’re really giving me a fever.”

She bent her head forward, using her left hand to lift her long hair up and out of the way so that I could get at the back of her bare neck.  I paid a lot of attention to that area, biting her there, nibbling and nuzzling as she pushed her bottom back against me, grinding her bottom into my groin.  She grunted as she tried to push back from the countertop but I parked my boots, shifted my weight against her and held my ground, pressing myself into her in turn and pinning her.  I drank in her flowers scented perfume, drank in the scent of her long hair, the salty taste of her skin, flicked her ear lobe with the tip of my tongue and ground her earlobe softly between my front teeth.  She tried to turn to face me over her shoulder and made a purely animal-like growl as I went back to kissing, nibbling, and biting her neck.

“... have me.” She said in a sultry whisper as she writhed harder, slowly up and down then back and forth, serpentine-like now, gyrating in place, lifting the bare part of her leg to rub against my jeans. 

She pushed me back slightly then, away from the edge of the counter, grabbed my right hand and slid my right hand down lower until it was halfway between her navel and her crotch, over that wonderful curve in God’s design of women where her stomach starts to fall into that v-shaped space between her legs.  My palm was flat to the shrouded zipper of her camp shorts, my fingers spread, pulling her back into me, crushing her back into me.

“You can have me.” She whispered.

Marie pulled my left hand down from her neck and hair, pulled it across her chest, across her now wrinkled and unbuttoned yellow blouse, putting my palm inside the open top of her blouse and placing it there over her right breast as she pressed my hand down hard.  When she did I squeezed, with both of my hands, top and bottom.  I felt her swollen nature, felt her need for me there as well.  She moaned and bucked, throwing her head back and I continued to work her shoulder and neck with my mouth, tongue and teeth as my hands cupped her, chest and groin, kneading.

“This … ah … uh … mmm.” She whispered between breaths, never finishing what she had started to say or if she did finish then what she said was too low to be heard or understood by me.

I grabbed two handfuls of her like I owned her.  Marie let out a long, guttural moan and became an absolute out of control tigress in my arms, bucking and writhing, trying to break free of the hold that I had on her despite the weight and leverage that I was putting against her.  I realized then that despite the cool nature of the apartment that both of us were starting to sweat.  I could feel her sweat on her skin, smell the slight trace of it and her skin began to taste saltier under my tongue. 

I could feel my shirt sticking to my back.

She writhed under me, moaning and sighing, grunting and growling, bucking her groin against my hand, her hand on the outside of her shorts trying to push my hand deeper into her crotch, her other hand on my hand that held her breast, mashing it tighter to her chest, trying to force it back and forth, rubbing.

Her breath was coming short and loud and fast.

She turned her head to face me as best as she could ...  

The look in her eyes … her whiskey brown eyes.  

The sounds of her fast breathing, almost panting, as she stood there … the tip of her tongue slicing between her lips to moisten them and then vanishing again into her mouth as her lips parted and her breathing became rapid and heavy again.  She made a sound then, it was a moan that was long and drawn out and the look on her face was something that I would remember for a long, long time to come.

Three months ago I’d lost my virginity to Pam, an eighteen year old cashier that was flunking out of college and who would never amount to anything in her life other than a sub-mediocre housewife, at best, who would be totally dependent on whoever she married to take care of her.  I’d lost my virginity because she had been lonely and I’d been bored.  Tonight I figured I was going to lose whatever else I had left to lose at this point to Marie and I was more than all right with that.  Hell, if Marie had asked for my soul in equal trade right then and there I’d probably have given it to her willingly and with no regrets.

Marie was going to be my second, of that I had little if any doubt, and right then I wished to hell that she had been my first because Marie was everything that Pam wasn’t … Marie was sensuous, she was passionate, she was hungry, she was alive and she was wild.  Marie knew what she wanted and she was determined to get it now that all the ice was broken, now that all the small talk was done with and now that the whiskey was doing its magic on both of us.  Yeah, there was only one thing left to do and Marie and I were already on our way to doing that …

Well on our way.

Her head went to the side again and my lips and teeth found her hot, sweaty neck.  Her smell was feminine, raw, mixed with her perfume.  She was more intoxicating than any liquor, any drug could have ever been.  I let the flesh of the nape of her neck slide through my teeth.  She struggled against me, trying to turn around to face me, but I put my muscles into it and held her fast.  She grunted and became aggressive then, so different than the quiet, demure stranger that I had been drinking whiskey and trading small talk with just ten minutes ago.  Marie was a whole new animal, a caged wildcat that had been spurned for far too long and now she had come into heat.

I didn’t know her story …

I didn’t care.

This was here.

She was now.

This was happening.

I was having this woman.

Tonight.

Right here.

Right now.

Marie was hot and bothered, she moved, she shimmied, she swayed, she writhed, she growled, she moaned, she panted, she whimpered, she whispered, she begged, she responded, she grabbed, she held and she gave just as good as she got if not more so.  Right then if I knew just one thing about how tonight was going to turn out it was that we were both going to be really sore and tired tomorrow.  

It was also then that I realized Marie had stopped talking …

I don’t know how long ago but she had stopped talking to me in words that I could understand and now the only noises that she was making were composed of animal-like sounds, whines, whimpers, grunts, moans and low cries.  Marie pressed herself back against me, hard, finding me not willing to move and she growled a delighted kind of frustrated groan.  I slowly let her go and turned her around to face me.  She stood there before me, her long hair was disheveled, her blouse wrinkled and halfway undone.  Her look was that of a wild, even desperate woman, a long strand of her hair hanging low covering her left eye and side of her face.   Marie took a step forward.  Her hands began sliding up my chest, her fingers digging into me, clawing, gripping, through my shirt.  She slid her hands over my chest, exploring, feeling, taking for her own.  We melted into each other, nuzzling against each other, cheek to cheek, my lips sliding down to her neck, down to where her open blouse let me get at her bare upper chest, back up her throat and under her chin.  She whimpered as she lowered her chin to force me to pull back from her neck and chin then she head butted me lightly, nuzzled me, tilting her head slightly sideways to invite and accept me and her eyes were there to guide me on in.

I reached over to my tumbler on the counter top, found a little bit of Jack Daniels still in the bottom, dipped my finger there, wet it and ran my whiskey moistened finger across Marie’s lips.  Her breath took in sharply.  She licked my finger, flicking the tip of my finger with her tongue as she did so, a taunting, naughty, knowing, experienced look on her face.  I took my finger, dipped it back in the whiskey and wet her lips again but this time I kept my finger away from her open mouth … her look became one of frustration as I taunted her, teased her, and then I moved in, our lips met, crushed hard against each other, parted, and we kissed.

Our first kiss.

 … Our first real, mutual kiss; tongue wrapped, whiskey laced, hot and wet, deep and hard.  

I tasted the whiskey on her lips.  Desperate, needed, wanted and desired.  She moaned deeply as our lips touched, molding, our tongues darting in and out of each other’s mouth as our hands slid across each other’s body with a mind of their own.  My mouth crushed down on hers.  The taste of whiskey, the smell of flowers, the hint of musk and sweat, the feel of Marie in my arms, my lips to hers, her tongue wrapped around mine, the feel of her skin under my palms, along my fingers; right then and there she was all that I needed and everything that I wanted.

She grabbed my head, pulled me to her.  We kissed.  Again.  Long, hard, deep, finally coming up for breath and then we kissed again just the same.  Kissing her was every bit as sensuous as nibbling her and biting her had been, maybe even more so.  Her hands groped for me, explored me, ran up and down my chest then slid around me to my back, her left hand going high to pull my head hard against hers and her right hand dropping to spread her fingers across my bottom as she pulled me into her as hard and tight as she could, groaning, trying to mash her groin against mine.

I broke our fourth kiss, used the side of my head to gently push her head to the side and then kissed her again on the side of the neck, moving down towards her shoulder line again, biting her there.  Her breathing was coming in quick sighs and moans now and one of her legs moved up the back of mine, slipped and went back up again like she was trying to climb me.  I moved back down, kissing her under her neck, across the top of her chest, right at the edge of where her breasts began.  I could almost hear her heart beat in her chest.  She shuddered again, a quick, deep shudder.  She grunted and grabbed my head in her hands, pulling me up as her mouth found mine again.

We kissed.

Long, hard, deep as she pulled my hair hard, grabbing my head and pulling me into her face, crushing my lips hard against hers.  I pulled away from her, turned her around facing the cabinets and molded myself against her.  She reached forward and steadied herself against the counter, leaning on her arms and hands.  I went in to her neck and slowly clamped my teeth down again on her neck and shoulder line, biting, slow and hard, my hot breath against her bare skin.  She moaned and put the side of her head against mine, hard, pressing, rubbing her head against mine while she moaned.  I nibbled her shoulder line, moving along her shoulder, to her neck, up behind her ear, to her earlobe, forcing her head back up and off of mine as I did.  A tremble broke through her body.  I took her earlobe in my mouth, sucked on it, then I bit down on her earlobe firmly, pulling back as I did so, pulling her head back towards me.  She moaned again as another tremor passed through her body and she ground her bottom back against my groin ... hard.  Her hands came up and grabbed me, pulling me into her from behind as she ground back against me again.

Serpentine.  

Slow writhing.  

Her breath was coming hot and fast, short and shallow.  

The next few seconds all ran together ... one of those instances where a lot happens at the same time in the blink of an eye.  I ran my left hand up across her stomach, across her chest, slowly, before sliding my hand into the loose folds of her unbuttoned shirt.  She sighed and moaned as I pushed my left hand up under her bra, my left hand to her hot, smooth, bare skin, cupping her right breast, easily finding her nipple and gently pinching it between my thumb and forefinger while at the same time I ran my right hand down the inside front of her camp shorts, shoved my right hand down inside her already damp panties as she moved her legs slightly apart in anticipation.  My hand pushed farther down into her panties and across the coarse softness of her pubic hair, my fingers gliding through her  damp curls until I found where her nature parted and her womanhood began.   I cupped her there ... she was swollen, hot, wet, slick  …  and at the same time I pulled her back to me ... breast and crotch, I grabbed two handfuls of her and held her like I owned her ... like she was property.

"I want you." I said, my voice strong and close in her ear, taking her ear lobe in my mouth, sucking and nibbling on it gently.

... and that’s when the whole universe exploded.  

Marie made a sound that I’d never heard any woman ever make before.  Her breath rushed in and she made a deep, even hurtful moaning sound that rose in intensity.  Her legs slammed shut against my right hand, bunching my fingers together hard enough to hurt.  She reared up, reared back like she was trying to buck me off of her and that's when I felt her tremble in my arms, hard.  

I didn’t even have time to think what that meant as she shuddered, paused, then shuddered again harder in my arms.   I felt her quiver against my hand.

She made sounds then.

Whimper.

Shudder.

Moan.

Shudder.

Moan.

"Gah ...." she said in a long drawn out whisper.

Marie’s head was back.

Her eyes were closed.

Her mouth was open.

Her breath came in fast and shallow pants.

Her chest heaved up and down.

I didn’t move I just held her tight, pulling her close to me top and bottom, as her whole body trembled in my grip and she seemed to melt back into me.  Her fingers held tight to the counter … almost to the point of pain and her moan rose almost to a cry then faded to a whimper.  I grimaced through a smile as she whispered “oh” over and over again, every few seconds, just after each large shudder wracked her body.  After a few seconds, Marie’s head leaned forward, her hair fell around her head then she flipped it back, slapping me with her hair as she put her head on my shoulder and fell backwards into me again, almost full weight.  I readjusted my stance to support her and I held her there in my arms as she shuddered slightly and went almost completely limp in my arms.

“Um.” She half-whispered and that was the last sound that she made short of the sound of her breathing heavy.

Slow and heavy.

I held her and didn’t let go, held her tight, held her close to me from behind, left hand still holding her right breast, the other still grabbing a handful of her womanhood, my hand still caught between her tight held thighs.  When she seemed to have stopped shaking so much I slowly, lightly nuzzled her neck with my stubble covered cheek and held her tight.  I just held her in my arms, her eyes shut and her mouth hallway open.  Her breath came rapid and shallow then started to deepen and lengthen.  I had a pretty good idea what had just happened and all I could think right then was it had never been that way with Pam.  

Marie made another little sound, almost an apologetic sigh and grunt.  I supported her and didn’t do anything to take away from this moment she was having, this moment I had given her.

Damn, I thought to myself.

I did that.

I did that to her.

I caused that to happen to her.

Me.

Part of me was jumping up and down on the inside, throwing myself a parade and the other part of me was just awestruck ... trying to take it all in and make sense of it all.  I'd never seen a woman do that before ... Pam had never done anything like that before.  This was all new to me.  I nuzzled her neck and gently kissed her cheek when she turned her head towards me.  Her hand came up and rubbed the side of my head and face as she put her head to mine, rubbing.  I buried my face in her neck and she leaned her head over, pressing down, holding me there.  Her fingers spread as she drove them through my hair, clenched my hair tight in her fingers and pulled back, hard, peeling me away from her neck.  She slowly uncrossed her legs, released the grip her thighs had on my hand and I slowly let go of her groin, carefully taking my hand back out of her camp shorts.  I turned her slowly around to face me, reaching an arm around her, putting my hand on her bottom and holding her closer to me.  Marie looked like she was about to say something and then simply closed her eyes and her mouth and put her head against my shoulder.  I took her in my arms and held her close, waited until her breathing had become deep and slow again, waited until she had once again slowly opened her eyes.  I kissed the side of her neck softly as her lips pursed and her head went slowly forward and down, her long hair draping.
 
I didn’t know what to say.

It felt like I should say something ... I felt like I really should say something but I couldn’t think of anything to say that seemed appropriate to the moment so I just stood there, holding her tightly to me, as tight as I could, losing myself in her, losing myself in the moment, thinking that this was something that I'd never forget as long as I lived.   

It was hot in the kitchen … we were both sweating and until that moment in time I didn’t realize that she hadn’t been the only one whose breathing had been rapid and shallow.  She turned to face me and molded herself to me, putting her head to my chest and her arms around me.  Her arms slowly went up and down, hands wide, fingers spread, from my waist to my shoulders and back again.

“You don’t play ... fair.” She finally whispered her head flat against my chest, her long hair draped over her face, mouth agape slightly, breathing hard but slowly.

“I don’t remember saying that I would.” I told her, whispering it to her as I still held her tight.

It seemed like a long time passed while I held her … just held her.  Time ceased to have any meaning, there was just Marie and me, her in my arms, me holding her.

“God.  That was ... Ah, I’m still shaking.” She said at last.

And she was, ever so lightly, every now and then.

“I noticed.” I said, smiling, feeling her in my arms as the tiny tremors occasionally raced through her body.

I held her for a minute, maybe two, just savoring the moment, just slowly rocking in place with her in my arms.  She wrapped her leg around mine, leaving my right thigh to ride up against the inside of her left thigh, the inside of her crotch.  I felt her slowly lift and lower her leg, rubbing the back of her bare leg against the denim of my jeans and pants leg, almost like she was slowly getting ready to climb me.  I ran my fingertips slowly up the side of her cheek.

“Not bad for an eighteen year old.” She whispered to me, her face almost buried in my chest.

I wasn’t quite sure that I had heard what she said so I thought that shrugging my shoulders and nodding was better than asking her what she had said or meant.  I wasn’t sure that we had finished … I know that I hadn’t and I hoped that we weren’t.  I still had a need and I held her close to me.  A long time passed, at least to me, then she leaned away from me, nuzzling her cheek next to mine.

Our lips crossed, touched, met and we kissed.

Kissed again.

Soft.  Our tongues danced slowly around each other this time, not the ravenous wrestling match that we had enjoyed just moments before.  Marie leaned back from me, slowly opened her eyes and looked at me.  Her breathing was deep and slow and we stood there, her arms on my shoulders, my hands on her hips, slowly swaying in place, dancing to silent music.  I looked at her … she was a mess … Marie looked like she had just been mugged by a hurricane.  Her shirt was hallway out of her waistband, unbuttoned, one collar turned the wrong way.  Her hair was disheveled, some hanging down in her face and my thoughts went back to what she had said.

“Marie?” I asked softly.

She tilted her head to look at me, stared into my eyes.

“You said something … out loud … when you  …”

“Mmmm?” she asked, curious, looking at me now with those big whiskey brown eyes.

“We at vola?  I think that’s what you said.  At least that’s what it sounded like.” I whispered as I stood back from her.

Marie’s clothes were a mess, her long hair was a mess and she looked up at me through fallen bangs.

“What?” she asked in a half whisper, using her right hand to sweep her hair from her face.

Her look was one of mildly shocked surprise.

“We et vola.” I said softly, trying to say it like I remembered her saying it.  “You said we et vola or what you said sounded like that.”

Marie’s look became one of concern and ... quickly growing embarassment?

“I said … no.  Are you serious?  I said that?” she asked, definitely surprise on her face and maybe … embarrassment.

I nodded.

“No!  I didn't!  I really said that?!” she asked.

She was starting to blush as I nodded again.

“Of course I said that … how could I say that … how could you … how could I …?” she muttered, like she was looking through a list, rattling off questions that had no answers.

Fading into silence she simply hung her head, her long hair falling about her face.  It was easy to see that she was embarrassed now.  She looked away and ran her fingers through her long hair, pursing her lips then biting her lower lip.

“God.  I can’t believe I said that … that … when …” she whispered, closing her eyes and shaking her head, smiling.  

“God.” she said, a lot louder than a whisper, in a tone that made me think of self-condemnation.

There came the sound of soft laughing, from her.  Marie turned, an embarrassed look on her face as she buried her face into my chest, shaking her head slightly from side to side.

“Hey.  Hey!” I said softly, trying to get her attention and get her to pull her head out from my chest.

“What?” she asked, flatly, not bothering to lift her head from where she had buried it in my chest.

“It’s okay.  What you said … I kind of liked it.”

“It was dumb.  It's just something that I say ... that I ... do ... sometimes ...”

“It was French, wasn’t it?  What you said … when you …”

I waited.  She looked up, stroked a strand of hair from her face and smiled at me.  Her smile was bashful, almost apologetic.

“I never took French but I think I can recognize it when it’s spoken … some of it at least.” I said.  “It is French, right?”

Marie moved a fallen bang out of her face and looked at me.

“Yes.  What I said was French.”

I nodded and smiled.

“Sorry.  I guess I kind of lost myself there with you.  Like I said, you don’t play fair.  You had me in a fever.  I was in another world.”

“I don’t mind.  I really don’t.” I said, trying to reassure her.

“Yeah.  Yeah, I bet you don’t.” she teased, looking me eye to eye.

She was still embarassed.

“So …?” I asked.

“So …?” she asked softly, cutting her eyes at me and trying not to smile.

Trying and failing.

“So … what does it mean?”

“What?”

“What you said.  What does it mean?”

“Why?” she asked, cutting her eyes at me.

“I’m curious.  I don’t know what it means and it obviously was something that you said when …” I trailed off.

There was obvious and then there was too much obvious.  I left it at that.

“Tell me.” I pressed.

Marie just held me, her head slowly moving back and forth in a "no" manner.

“Tell me.” I said.

“No.” she whispered.

“Yes.”

“No.” she said louder.

“Yes.”

Marie huffed.

“It’s silly.  It’s just … something I say sometimes.”

“Sometimes?”

“Um hmmm.  Sometimes."

"When?"

"When I’m happy.”

“When you’re happy?”

“When I’m happy ... or when I'm comfortable with someone.”

“Tell me.”

“No.” she said, coyly, almost giggling.

“Yes.” I said, leaning in.

“No.” she said but with less resistance in her voice this time, giggling even more.

“Tell me.” I said, moving in closer and she quickly darted her head away, giving a little cry.

As she darted her head away, she exposed her neck and I darted my head in between her shoulder and her neck.  She moved her head back, pinning me, squealing and laughing, trying to cover her bare neck and trying to push me away but I was already where I wanted to be and I decided to leverage an answer out of her.  I kissed her on her neck, she pulled at me, I nibbled her then moved slightly up, finding her ear, nibbling her ear lobe and whispering to her in a soft voice to tell me what the words that she had said meant.  She broke quickly under my soft assault, sighing, grabbing my head in both hands and holding me tight.

“Okay!  Okay.  It means … yes, there it is.” She half whispered but whole smiled, reaching forward with her mouth and slowly kissing me.

“Yes, there it is?” I asked, not really understanding.

“And it’s not “we et vola”, it’s oui, et voila.” She whispered in a husky, seductive voice, using proper French and not seeing the need to explain anything else.

Yeah, it sounded better coming from her lips than from mine.  I mulled over the meaning of what she had said at the height of passion.  No, nothing more needed to be explained.  Marie pulled back, looked at me then frowned.

“God!  Of all the … I go and ... I can’t believe I came in French.” She said softly, running her hand through her own hair, laughing more to herself, her voice mumbling, heavy emphasis on the words came and French.

She folded her arms and seemed to pout a little, biting her lip and smirking, slowly shaking her head like she was having a good laugh at herself on the inside.

I thought about what she had just said.  She came in French?  And she was embarrassed?  If that was an orgasm she had just had then there were Richter scales nearby that had probably recorded it.  I reached out and touched her side, along her arm and finally ran my hand up to her cheek.  I traced the side of her cheek and she reached up and held my hand tightly to her face as she turned to look up at me.

“It’s not embarrassing.” I said.

“It’s embarrassing.” She said.

“It’s not embarrassing.” I said.

“Yes, it is.” She said still hiding her face.  “Of all the things that I could have said … when … with you … I had to go and lose myself and … say something … stupid … something … silly … like … that.  Like that!”

“Actually, you whispered it, kind of out loud but you still whispered it, right there almost in my ear and for what it’s worth I thought that was really … sexy.”

Marie slowly looked up at me, cutting her eyes like she couldn’t believe what she was hearing.

“Sexy?” she asked.  “You thought me saying that was … sexy?”

“Sexy.” I said.

"Really?" she asked, almost in a shy like manner.

"Really.  I mean, I’ve never had anyone say anything like …”

I struggled to find the right words, any words, to fill the hole that I felt that I was digging.

“Say anything like …” Marie asked, probing.

I sighed.

“I’ve never had anyone come in French for me before.”

There.

I’d said it.

Marie seemed to think about that for a minute, tugging at one of her bangs.

“No.  I seriously doubt that you have.” Marie said, skewing her jaw to the side and looking at me smugly.

“Wait.  I didn’t mean it like that.” I said.

Damn it.

Marie put on a pouty face and I chastised myself mentally for ever having said anything about it at all.

“What did you mean, Christopher?” she asked, still pouting and looking almost angry.

Great.

Now we were headed for an argument or … something … which was the last thing that I wanted right then.  Especially right then.

“I meant that … I’m not used to people … to a woman … that I’m with … saying something like … that.”

Marie stood there, pouty and maybe angry, arms folded, cutting her eyes at me.

“And what exactly does a woman usually say when you’re running your hands all over her body?” Marie asked in a put on miffed voice.

“Honestly?” I asked her, seeing that maybe, just maybe I had a chance to pull this nose dive out before I cratered the night all over the place.

“Yeah.  Honestly.” Marie demanded, folding her arms in front of her.

It was then that I realized that we were playing and I saw a perfect thing to say to try to steer us back to where I thought we needed to be going.  It was everything I could do not to smile.

“Well ... usually what they say is “Oh God!  I’m not THAT drunk!  Get the hell off of me!  Help!  Help!  Somebody call the police!” …” I said with a perfectly straight face, my blue eyes staring into her brown eyes.

Whiskey brown eyes.

Wait for it.

Dead pan, jaw skewed, eye to eye with me.

Wait for it.

There came a second for what I had just said to sink in and when it did the corners of her mouth trembled and then she giggled and then she threw her head back and roared out laughing.  I couldn’t help it and seeing her laugh like that made me laugh as well.  After a minute Marie composed herself, snorted, giggled and managed to finally get her composure.  Looking at me, she cocked her head … expectantly?

“Really?” she asked.

I shrugged my shoulders and she smiled.

“Do you speak French?” I asked.

“Oui.” She said, far more coy now than she had been a minute ago.

“Fluently?” I asked.

“Oui, oui.” She said in a sultry whisper.

“Wow.  Okay, so how do you say “Oh God!  I’m not THAT drunk!  Get the hell off of me!  Help!  Help!  Somebody call the police!” in French?” I asked her.

Marie laughed and put her hand over her mouth.  A few seconds later she took a deep breath, shook her head and looked at me.

“Well, it certainly doesn’t sound like “Oui!  Et voila!” that’s for sure!” she said, shaking her head as she laughed.

I laughed in turn and shook my head.

“No, I guess it probably doesn’t.  It probably doesn’t sound anywhere near as sexy as what you whispered, to me, here, when you were … when I was holding you tight and ...”

“… And …?” she asked.

“When I was holding you tight and making you mine.” I said.

"Were you making me yours?" she asked.

"I was making you mine." I said.

Marie reached up and caressed my cheek.  I leaned into her hand and she put her other hand to my head, pulled me to her and kissed me, softly, then deep and slow.  When she withdrew there was another look about her …

“Thank you.” She said softly.

“For what?” I asked her, blue eyes to her brown eyes.

“For being with me … now.  Here.  With me.  For just … taking your time with me.  I haven’t had something like that in … a really long time now.” She said, sighing and closing her eyes.

The last few words were a husky whisper.

I didn’t know what to say so I just put my hand out and ran my fingers across her cheek, up the side of her face and moved some loose strands of her long hair out of her eyes.  She took my hand in hers, held it tight, squeezed it hard, then held it to her cheek and closed her eyes.  We stayed that way for what seemed a long time, her just nuzzling my hand with her eyes closed then she reached to my waist and pulled up my black T-shirt as far as it would go.  Tugging twice I got the message and raised my arms above my head.  With a grunt of her own she pulled my T-shirt straight over my head and off, wadding it up and throwing it on the counter behind me where it knocked over the old man and old woman salt and pepper shakers I had been looking at earlier.  Her hands ran through my chest hair, slowly, her palms moved over my stomach, up to my breasts, over each breast and back down again.

Her hands were warm.

My skin was sweaty.

Her fingers were hot, pressing into my skin, sliding across my chest.

Friction.

Exploring.

She picked up my gold Saint Christopher medal, pulled it to the end of its gold chain and me along with it, looked at the gold medallion and paused.  It’s like time stood still as she studied my chain and pendant, turning it carefully in her fingers, looking from it up to me and back down again at the medal.

“This is … Catholic, isn’t it?” she asked.

“Saint Christopher medal.” I said.

“Saint Christopher medal?  Really?” she asked.  “You have your own personal saint?”

I nodded.

“But ... It’s Catholic?”

“Pretty sure it’s Catholic.  That's not going to be a problem, is it?”

Marie looked at me sharply, her expression a mixture of … surprise … fear … anger?

“You’re not Catholic, are you?”

I shook my head.

“No.  I'm Lutheran.  I just like this better than a crucifix.”

She put her finger on my Saint Christopher medal.

“I don’t know anything about Lutherans.  Does your faith require you to wear a … Catholic symbol … like this?” she asked.

“No.” I said.  “Lutherans are kind of against regulations but I figure it can’t hurt if I do.  It’s kind of all from the same place, I guess.”

Marie looked at the medal again, turning it this way and that on the chain, running her finger over the details of the relief.

"Catholics have a lot of saints." she whispered.

"That they do." I agreed.

“So … who is Saint Christopher?”

“You’ve never heard of Saint Christopher?”

She shook her head, looking at me, curious.

That was strange, considering the amount of religious material present in her apartment.

“He’s the patron saint of travelers.  He protects those who travel or who are on a journey.”

"And ... are you on a journey?" she asked.

I shrugged my shoulders.

"I'd like to think that life is a journey.  It only stops being a journey when you let it stop."

She looked at me then ... surprise in her eyes.

"Wow.  That's pretty deep."

I shrugged my shoulders.

"It's just how I see life." I told her.  "Life only gets boring when you let it."

She nodded then looked at my Saint Christopher medal again.

"Not many people have their own personal saint.  You must be really good to have your own saint.” She said in a sultry, amused tone.

“Comes in handy sometimes.” I said.

“I bet it does.” She agreed.  “Gives you some extra protection.”

“The way my life is, I need all the extra protection I can get.” I said, thinking back to just a few months ago when Ingo had tried to run Pam and I down in his little piece of junk Capri.

“Yeah?  Really?  Like extra protection from what?”

My mind snapped back to the here and now.  I looked at her disheveled hair, her ruffled clothes, her whiskey brown eyes …

“Oh, you know … Like extra protection from some horny woman who yanks my T-shirt off and wants to have her way with me late at night in the kitchen of her apartment.  That kind of situation.”

"That kind of situation?" she asked, starting to snicker.

"Yeah.  That kind of situation." I said, smiling.

Marie laughed so hard she half snorted.  I chuckled and watched her as she regained her composure.  She took my Saint Christopher medal in her fingers again, looked at the Saint Christopher medal again and then cut her eyes at me.  A really mischievous smile formed on her lips as she held the medal in her fingers.

“You know what?” she asked, her voice going low and soft.

“What?”

“I think this Saint Christopher medal of yours is broken …”

“You think so?” I asked, playfully.

“Uh, huh.” She said in a husky whisper.

“Yeah?  Why do you think that?” I asked, looking down at the Saint Christopher medal in her fingers.

Marie looked at me, pulled hard on the medal and pulled me close to her as she leaned her head closer, putting the tip of her nose to mine, her forehead to mine.

“Because if this is supposed to protect you from some horny woman who just yanked your T-shirt over your head and wants to have her way with you in the kitchen of her apartment then let me tell you what, Christopher … this little piece of metal is doing nothing for you tonight.” She whispered, looking at me with that smile.

That smile.

“Nothing?” I asked playfully.

“Nuh-thing.” Marie said back, mouthing the word slowly and taking extra care to pronounce the two syllables deeply.

Before I could think of anything to say to that she dropped the Saint Christopher medal back to my chest and then things picked up where they left off.  She leaned down and licked my chest where my Saint Christopher medal was, lifting it from my chest and chest hair with her tongue, taking the medal into her mouth and holding it between her teeth.  I looked down at her and she looked up at me, cutting her eyes in a sultry fashion as she gently tugged on my Saint Christopher medal, pulling on it, pulling me closer.  She flicked the medal from between her teeth to her tongue, sucked my medal into her mouth, ran her tongue over the chain, pulling on me to come closer to her, using my Saint Christopher medal as a leash.  She bit down on my Saint Christopher medal, roughly tugging on it before letting it slide out of her mouth, slide from between pursed lips that seemed to kiss it as they let it go.  The medal landed against my chest, warm and wet with the attention that her mouth had just given to it.

She touched the Saint Christopher medal, ran her finger tip over it and flicked my Saint Christopher medal with her finger again, tracing it then moving her finger up my chest, up my throat, along my cheek to the side of my face where she held me in her hand.  She was about to renew her advances on me when I dropped low, put my arms around her and lifted her up to where she was sitting on the counter top.  She took my head in her hands and we kissed, her leaning down and me reaching up.  This kiss was much longer, deeper, more passionate and it was the kind of kiss that you could not only melt into but that you could completely lose yourself in and that’s just what we did.

I pulled away from her and moved from her lips back down her neck, to her throat, to the bare skin of her chest where the valley of her breasts began.  She had a light dusting of freckles there, the first time that I’d noticed that.  I wondered if she had freckles anywhere else on her body and I decided that I was going to find out.

She gripped my head and sighed deeply, throwing her head back as I reached down and pulled her blouse out of her camp shorts, running my hand up under it and along her back, along her stomach, along her side.  Her skin was hot, damp with sweat.  I smelled her natural scent on her skin and breathed it in … just as intoxicating as her perfume had been, maybe even more so.  I opened the top of her now loose blouse, exposing her chest, the upper curves of her breasts and most of her bra, kissing her there lightly, tracing the curves of her now exposed chest.  She hung her head and cradled my head in her arms, panting and rubbing her face against the top of my head as I nuzzled her breasts.

I lifted her up, sitting her on the counter top, she bounced on her bottom and scooted back with a quick grunt and sigh.  She grabbed my head and pulled me up to her, our lips met, our tongues danced in each other's mouth.

Desperate.

Hungry.

Her clothes and hair really were a mess ...  

I broke our kiss and put my head on down past her waist, pulled her shirt up, nibbled her bare flesh just below her ribs and she squealed, swatting at me as I nibbled her on her soft skin.  Goosebumps flashed across her skin.  She squealed and arched her back, pushing down on me and I pushed her back into the cabinets, rolled her backwards over my shoulder and lifted her up over my shoulder by her bottom.  She gave a half-startled cry as she fell over my shoulder and hung there, her arms waving wildly as she tried to steady herself, to balance herself.  I stood, slowly, with her slung halfway over my shoulder, carrying her caveman style as I turned and walked out of the kitchen. 

I had to have this woman. 

Every Neanderthal instinct in me was telling me that I had to have this woman.

It was my turn now.  

I was going to have this woman and from the sounds that she was making I think she knew it as well.

Knew it.

Accepted it.

Wanted it.

I headed across the living room to what I hoped was the master bedroom or at least the bedroom that she had gone into and closed the door behind her earlier.  Marie bounced on my shoulder, I held her securely there, left arm across the back of her legs holding her tight to me and my right hand on her bottom … firmly on her bottom, fingers spread, gripping.  Her legs came up bent at the knees, her ankles and feet pointing the way ahead as she balanced herself with her arms holding my waist from behind.  She giggled then laughed, her long hair spilling down as I carried her bouncing on my shoulder across the living room to the bedroom.

I found the bedroom; there was already a pair of lights on beside the bed and a couple of candles lit on the dresser.  

Candles.  

This had been planned.  

I’d been expected.  

What we were about to do had already been approved … by her. 

This was happening and the more I thought about it the more I realized that I really didn't have any say in the matter.

I leaned down and gently rolled her forward over and off my shoulder to where she hit the bed, bounced once and lay there, knees bent, legs spread, supported on her arms, looking at me like she had no idea what to make of me or what to make of the situation that she now found herself in.

“Ever been carried off to bed like that before?” I asked her.

She shook her head slowly from side to side, half smiling, then biting her lower lip in anticipation.  I slowly got onto the bed, moving on top of her, supporting myself above her on my arms, looking down on her as she looked up at me.  She ran her hands up and down my arms, across my bare chest, her fingers through my chest hair and she took hold of my Saint Christopher medal as it dangled there in the air between us, pulling on it gently, tugging, drawing me slowly down on top of her, towards her waiting lips. 

I woke slowly.

TKO’s haunting “I can do without you” slowly turned into ZZ Top’s “Gimme all your lovin’” … a weird mixture of the two songs that  I realized I was just imagining in my head, part of a dream that was fading quicker than I could remember it.

… and then it was gone and along with it the haunting melodies echoing to silence. 

Silence.

Strange.

I licked dry lips and felt the deep fingers of sleep withdraw from my mind like old rotting roots being pulled up out of the ground.  My body ached … arms, legs … neck, back … 

I was sore all over.

And then I realized that I wasn’t where I thought I was.

I wasn't where I was supposed to be.

Hell!

I wasn’t where I normally should be.  The bed I was on wasn’t mine.  I was naked.  That much I was pretty sure of ...  I reached out, silently, with every sense that I had, all the while without moving at all.  The beginning sense of panic was fought back down and replaced with a deep sense of curiosity.  I was trying to remember ...

I wasn't where I was supposed to be so ...

Where was I?

The sensation of soft cloth against my body.

Slow, cool air moving over my skin.

There was silence with small, unknown sounds.  The whisper of the air conditioning through the vents in the ceiling, the slow hum of the ceiling fan as it rotated on its lowest setting … whuh … whuh … whuh.  The soft clinking rattle of the brass chain against the porcelain lighting fixture as the overhead fan vibrated on its mount.

And there, next to me … she stirred softly.

She.

Her.

I could feel her in bed with me.

Realization snapped me alert.

Her!

Marie.

The woman I’d met at the water park.  The woman that I had flirted with and who I had asked to come see me at work and who, last night, had done just that.  And here I was, in her bed, naked, next to her, spent.

I felt strange but in a good way.

My mind raced as I tried to put pieces to questions and answers to puzzles.  My mind still wasn’t all the way awake.  There was that slight fear that comes with having done something spontaneous without a lot of forethought.  Parts of me hurt, the tops of my thighs felt like they were carpet burned where she had ridden me, my wrists hurt where she had put all of her weight against them supporting herself, my groin hurt like I’d been tackled there repeatedly and that part of my mouth that anchored my tongue down felt like it had been stretched and yanked on by someone who had a favorite pair of needle nose pliers and who had never read let alone ever intended to live by the basic humanitarian codes set aside in wartime by the Geneva Convention.

It took me a few seconds to remember why all of that hurt, to climb up out of the deep sleep that I had been in and to remember where I was, who I was with and just what we had done.  The memories came rushing back then and all I could think of was … God … whatever price I would pay one day for what we had done, right then it felt like a bargain in the making.

The things that we had done ...

We had made love … 

No, we hadn’t made love.

We hadn’t made love because there was no love to be made.

No, Marie and I had fucked and we had fucked like animals, like two desperate, rabid, sex starved animals which I guess is what we had been.  All civilization cast aside ... Neanderthals ... heathens ... there had been nothing but the two of us.  There was passion and emotion, neither hampered with promises or commitment, boundaries or limits.  There was sex without love … just pure, physical desire, wanton and bestial.  Something with Marie and me had clicked, deep down, something primitive, something primal, something ancient and instinctual from the moment that we had first met nearly a week ago and now here I was, in her bed, spent, naked and recovering from the kind of sex that leaves both marks and the kinds of memories you one day look back upon and smile.  Of that I had no doubt.

I looked over at her laying there next to me.

After I'd carried her back to her bedroom ... to her bed ... time had ceased to exist.  I took my time with her and gave her everything that I had.  She was new to me and I explored her, every inch of her body.  Time had become meaningless ... minutes stretched into hours, hours into days ... all while I was with her.  What we had done to each other, with each other, wasn’t love.  There had been no love.  What we had shared had been desire and desperation and need and want and exploration and pure physical pleasure bridled by the most primitive of natural urges; loneliness.  I had gone after Marie like there was something desperately missing in my life, like there was a void that only she could fill, that only being with her in the most simplest, most natural way that two human beings could ever be with each other could fill.  There had been no poetry, only graffiti.  No elective cosmetic surgery, just a viscous, drawn out knife fight.  It had been beautiful and ugly, good and bad.  We had thrown ourselves at each other with such utter abandon that what we had done together could never have been mistaken for an orchestrated ballet; no … what we had shared had been more like a wrestling match held in the middle of a demolition derby while a thrash metal band played in the background.

The sounds she had made ... cries, moans, screams, grunts, groans ... words whispered, profanity muttered, desires expressed and requests asked for, begged for, through clenched teeth and pursed lips.  Marie wasn't afraid to ask for what she wanted.

After that we had fallen asleep … her first then me, together, holding each other, there in bed with the lamp on the end table still on.  We didn't say anything because there was no need to.  Simple touches sufficed.  I had slowly rubbed her bare skin, softly, petting her, up and down her naked body, slowly, until she had fallen asleep there in my arms and then I'd fallen asleep there, next to her, holding her.

Bare skin to bare skin.

Her warmth against mine.

I looked over at the clock on the bed stand … 3:38 AM in red, digital numerals.

I’d slept about an hour and a half and awoken almost as suddenly as I had slipped off into sleep.

I lay there, lost in thought, in a bed that I’d never been in before tonight, naked, sore and tired; lying next to a woman I’d never been with before tonight.  I could feel the warmth from her body, her skin against mine.  I could smell her long hair, her skin.  I could feel the rise and fall of her chest and somehow I knew that she was happy.

Content.

Safe.

Secure.

Right here.

Right now.

Marie was happy.  I didn't need her to tell me that ... I could tell that by her posture, by her body language, the sound of her breathing and the slight curve of a smile on her lips.  Marie was sleeping; her breath was slow and deep.  I was sixteen years old and this was the first time that I’d ever spent the night with a woman.  I guessed that it was some kind of achievement to note in the diary of my life … God!  I was sure that there would be other times like this later on and throughout my life but this … this was the first time for that situation and that made tonight, right now, special, at least for me it did and I lay there thinking about that fact for a while … wide awake, eyes open and mind lost deep in thought as the woman that I had shared my body with lay asleep next to me.

I took her nakedness in, marveling at her body, her curves, finding each freckle on her body, each tiny mole, and trying to force myself to remember this just the way it was.

Last night, being with Marie had been the twelfth time that I had had sex in the past four months but only the second woman that I had ever gone to bed with.  I lay there thinking about that as Marie stirred beside me and snuggled closer, interrupting her breathing slightly before getting comfortable and going back to a more restful pattern.  I didn't move at all and almost immediately her breath went back to slow and deep.  I doubt that she had really woken at all or even knew that she was doing it … she was just naturally seeking out that which made her happy or made her feel secure.  I turned my head to look at her … She was a really attractive woman by any standard that you would use to measure physical beauty.

I lay there for what seemed a long time, gently stroking Marie’s face with the soft touch of my fingertips, stroking the curve of her ear, the soft skin of her neck, touching her long hair and slowly running my fingers through it.  Every now and then she would make a soft noise, a good noise and then her breathing would go back to steady.  I lay there, looking at her, thinking about how I had managed to wind up here with her, in her bed, next to her.  Looking at her naked body I felt an urge, a desire, and a need for her … a real need, a primal need, begin to awaken itself deep down inside me.

My passion for her awoke.

I wanted her.

Again.

I slowly pulled away from her then gently rolled her over on her back, spread her legs and eased down between her legs.  I ran my arms up under the back of her thighs, feeling the smooth skin of her inner thighs against my cheek, slowly moving on up, kissing her as I went, before finally resting my head on her belly and kissing her there … softly, kissing her around her navel, sticking the tip of my tongue into her navel, flicking the edge, above and below.  The smell of her skin, the warmth of her skin against the tip of my tongue.  She didn’t open her eyes but I could tell she was awake now, enjoying the moment, surprised to be woken up in this manner.  Her head went back and her lips opened as her breathing began to quicken and shorten.  Her hands came up, her fingers spread across the side of my head, through my hair, pushing me gently back downward.  

Slowly.

Downward.

I let her guide me, kissing, teasing, flicking my tongue across her warm, bare skin, kissing her softly as I moved under her guidance.  She looked down at me, looked down at the attention that I was giving to her, her stomach slowly rising and falling, her back arching, her fingers running through my hair, digging in, pulling and guiding me where she wanted me to pay her attention.  

Downward.

Slowly.

I took my time, exploring her, working her up to the point of release, each short quiver and moan from her a prelude of the inevitable, ever building cascade.  Her whispered requests guided me and soon her body was shaking again, her breath coming in quick gasps.  I took her to her edge then pushed her straight over.  She moaned loudly, a moan that became a sharp cry as I let her have her release.  I stilled myself completely as she trembled under me, as her fingers pulled at my hair, as she held me in a vise-like grip with her closed thighs and as she rode her release in waves there under me.  Each wave a moan or a grunt and a short, sharp tremble of her body.  It was like last night at the kitchen counter only this time I could feel her release much closer ... I could almost share it with her.  Her fingers flexed against my head, in my hair, with each wave that she rode, pulling, tugging, petting.  

The sounds she made.  

My name whispered.  

When she was spent and had relaxed I slowly moved up and away from her, leaning over her, supporting myself on my arms, my Saint Christopher medal dangling like a pendulum.  She opened her eyes and her look was a half questioning one.

"I want you." I said.

Before she could say anything I pushed myself up, sat up on my knees and gently urged her to roll over on her stomach.  She willingly complied as I grabbed her by the hips and pulled her up on her hands and knees then took her from behind, sharing my still unspent desire for her.  I reached forward and grabbed a handful of her hair, pulling her back to me, pulling her head back and she bucked hard back into me, slamming into me and I met her charge with my own.  

The sound of skin on skin.  

Her grunting and moaning.  

She tossed her hair and pulled her head away, I let her hair slip through my fingers as she hung her head straight down and repeatedly slammed herself back into me, matching my thrust with her counterthrust.  She was a piston, loading and unloading herself against me.  Methodical.  Machine-like.  Reciprocating with the only end result being to burn up against me.  I held her hips loosely as I let her have her way for a while, maintaining my balance as I relaxed and let her take charge.  When she slowed her pace I grabbed her hips with both hands and began to take over where she had left off.  She accomodated my desire by putting her bottom up as high as she could while she put her head down on the bed, turning her head sideways to the left and bracing herself with her arms held to each side to support herself.   

I tried that position but it didn't seem to really work ... for either of us ... 

The angle was wrong.

"Hold on ..." she said.  "Here.  Let me do this ..."

Marie grabbed a pillow, put it under her hips and groin, then went down flat laying across it with her bottom slightly elevated and that position worked great.  I didn't say anything, I just took her; took her like I wanted her.  This time was longer than the time before and I started slowly, taking my time, two becoming one again ... hot skin on hot skin.  I tried to clear my mind as I started to drive into her however her constantly softly urging me to take what I wanted, to take what I needed, in the way that she said, in what she said and how she said it, in how she moved under me ... all of that only caused me to quicken my drive against her but strangely it didn’t bring my own release any closer.  For some reason my release moved farther and farther away, making me work harder and harder for what I wanted and I chased my desire with everything that I had.

The sounds she made.

I pinned Marie under me, her breath mixed with hard grunts, muffled screams into the bunched up sheet in front of her and even sharp cries mixed with the occasionaly seemingly agonized blasphemy as I lost myself fully in her.  Her fists were clenched tight, gripping bunches of the sheet up in her hands, her head was turned to the side, her eyes closed tight, her mouth open wide and the sounds she was making only drove me to work her harder and faster there under me.  Seeing her half pained, half pleasured facial expressions that changed with each stroke.  I had never had to work for what I wanted this hard but what I wanted kept eluding me.  

It was like I had forgotten how to find my own release.

It was like everything was numbed to the point of being utiltarian.

This was starting to feel like a ... chore.

It was making me frustrated.  

I was right on the edge, always on the edge but never enough to drive on over into completion no matter how fast or how hard that I drove myself into her.   I was relentless but I was one straw short of breaking the camel's back.

Just one straw ...

Always one straw.

"Damn it." I muttered, stopping and resting.

Two still one.

I was supported on my outstretched arms, catching my breath as sweat ran down my back and forehead.  Marie turned her head and said something but I didn't understand her.  I changed my posture slightly, put my legs over the back of her legs, my ankles across her ankles, using my legs to force her to spread her legs wider there under me.  I took her arms, grabbed her wrists at her side, pulled her arms out to where I could support myself on my outstretched arms and lifted myself up as I pushed her down, hard, into the bed.   She gave out a long gutteral moan as I put all of my weight on her ankles and her wrists, setting her up the way I wanted her positioned, the way I needed her positioned and then I went at what we were sharing for everything that I had left in me ... I treated her like she was surplus property and I owned her.

Marie cried out, her palms open, turned up at the wrists, her fingers splayed wide apart and her legs started trying to come up under me at her knees, to lift up, but I wouldn't let her.

I was relentless.

I didn't stop.

I couldn't.

I had it now.

I could feel it.

I was close.

So close.

This was going to work this time.

I was chasing my release and it was close.

The sounds she made.

The sounds we made.

Skin on skin.

Two as one.

I had her pinned at ankles and wrists with all of my weight and I was just driving myself against her with a strength and force that was intended to leave no stone of her temple left standing.  There were sounds, deep animal-like sounds, all around me ... my world was filled with noise and chaos and physical exertion.  I was sweating.  Droplets of sweat from my brow fell on her shoulder, on her back as I drove into her time after time after time and that's when I realized that some of the noises, the deeper more animal-like noises, were coming from me and not her. 

That was another first for me ... 

Before now, before Marie, I'd never lost myself in someone like I was losing myself in Marie, not even earlier this morning when I'd first taken her in this very bed, when we had first shared our bodies.  That time had been cautious, somewhat guarded ... a time of exploration restrained only by immediate desire.  My eyes were closed but I could see everything.  My breath came through my open mouth ... fast and shallow as I drove myself into her, looking for my own building release.  The air down my throat was hot, my lungs were burning, my head was beating with my pulse in my temples and my skull felt like it was going to explode and the only thing I saw was the color red.

Her face was again buried in the sheets, the muffled sounds she made grew more desperate with each thrust but that only made me work harder for my own release, the sounds she made only drove me to throw myself into her harder and faster.  I looked over my shoulder ... her feet were hanging just off the bed, cocked all the way back at her ankles, her toes curled towards the bed, her fingers spread out as wide as they would go, all the while with her pinned there under me.   I shifted my weight on her wrists, hard, jerked her arms into a better position for me and found new leverage.

I was lost in a blinding white glare of total abandoned sensuality.

So close.

I drove once ... 

Hard.

Twice more ...

For all I had ...

As hard as I could.

Everything happened then at once.  

Teetering on the edge ... slipping over ...

There!

I let myself go, surrendering myself wholly to what I had worked so hard for.

I finally found my release.

I made a sound then ... it was primal and drawn out as my whole body shuddered.

God!

I felt like the head of a match striking and coming to life.

Supernova.

Marie!

I may have screamed her name in my head.

I may have screamed her name out loud.

It sounded the same either way.

Her fingers dug into the sheets and she bunched them up in her closed fists.  Her head came up, her teeth clenched, one long moaning grunt from her as she was biting the sheet, pulling it up with her teeth in front of her, her eyes shut tight.  

Nothing else mattered right then ... 

I didn't even realize that I hadn't stopped driving into her with everything that I had.  

My body was on automatic ... my mind lost to the blaze.  

Brilliant white glare; I rode the expanding shock waves of a dying star.

I think Marie cried out something half blasphemous as the sheet fell from her mouth … it wasn’t French but it did start with an “F” and it was just four letters long though she did manage to pronounce it in three syllables, followed instantly by her taking the Lord's name in vain … said in what sounded like a half-cry of pained anguish and half cry of pleasured exhultation.  I felt her shudder under me then she went slack at the same time.  I really couldn’t be sure because right then I was lost in myself and not paying her or her whimpering or her sobbing or her crying any more attention.

That time had been so good that it actually hurt!  

Suddenly I felt weak and fell on top of her, full dead weight, and she moaned loudly again, reaching back with her hands and arms to grab me, to pull me into her, to pull me closer, to run her hands over whatever skin of mine she could touch, just slowly running her hands over my skin, up and down.  I just lay there, on top of her, both of us collapsed upon each other, her under me and the two of us still joined as one.   I caught my breath as my body slowed, as the pounding in my head lessened …   

Compared to Marie, having sex with Pam had been like fucking a still warm corpse.

My skin to her skin, me looking down, and marveling at this woman under me, this woman who had shared … who was sharing … her body, her nakedness, her raw sexuality with me.  I moved her hair out of her face and kissed her on her temple, on her cheek and nuzzled her.  There was just the two of us, me on top of her, there in her bed, the sheets all messed up and her whispering words that were either too soft for me to hear or I was still too out of it to even recognize for what they were or what they might mean to what we had shared or what we were sharing. 

There are moments in a man’s life that he will never forget and right then I thought to myself that surely this had to be one of those moments ... at least it was for me.  I would never forget this moment, with her, not ever.

I thought about saying something but nothing seemed like it was good enough to say so I didn't.  I just lay there, on top of her, kissing the bare skin of her left shoulder and rubbing my right cheek against her hair.  Marie’s eyes were closed, her mouth open slightly and her breathing slowly returning to normal.  Every now and then she would tremble under me, a sort of hard jerk sometimes followed by a little jerk after.  Her fists clutched in the sheet again as she lay there under me, her head to the left, her eyes shut softly and her mouth open with lips pursed.  Every now and then she would whisper "guh" softly and nothing else.

I lay there, on top of her, just melting into her, feeling the warmth of her body to mine, feeling one finally become two again and still I held her.  After a few minutes Marie slowly opened her eyes and looked up at me, looked over her left shoulder at me, a lock of her hair fallen across her face.  Her look ... she just looked at me ... like she had never seen anything like me before. 

Maybe she hadn't.

I'd sure as hell never seen anything like Marie before and that was the damn truth!

She turned to stare straight ahead, wiggled her bottom, once, twice.  I let go of her and tried to rise up but she moved under me, rolled me off of her onto my back, then took the pillow out from where she had been lying across it.  I scooted over on the bed and she moved to lay on top of me with her head nuzzled in the right side crook of my neck.  My arms went around her, my hands moved up and down the bare skin of her back, her bottom ... up and down, slowly, just caressing her.  She reached out with her left hand, found my left hand, bent it up to beside me then took my left hand in her left hand, laced our fingers and then got comfortable halfway atop me.  I kept rubbing her, caressing her with my right hand.

She said nothing.

Nothing could be said.

Nothing needed to be said.

I could feel the rise and fall of her chest against mine, feel her breasts, her bare skin, against the bare skin of my chest.  I reached up, ran my hand up and down her back, down her bottom, cupped her, squeezed her lightly, then just started running my hand up and down her bare back, up and down her bottom, finally resting my hand on her bottom.  A light kiss to my neck, another to my cheek and a nuzzle of her head against me.  Her hair draped against my shoulder and neck.  I felt her hot breath against my skin.  

Her left hand and fingers squeezed my left hand, once, twice, held and then released.

I got up, went to the bathroom, found a washrag, ran some hot water through it then used it to wipe down.  Marie came in after I finished and I washed the washcloth off, got it warm again, and handed it to her for her to wipe down.  I leaned up against the wall, watching her.  She finished, put the washcloth back in the tub then came and stood in front of me.  Her arms came up, went around my shoulders, pulled me to her.  We kissed, a soft, slow kiss, then she took me by the hand and led me back to bed.

We lay there, side by side, and she snuggled up next to me, wiggling her bottom, wanting to be spooned.  

I wrapped my arms around her, my right arm under her neck and back across her chest.  She tucked my arm around her and put her head against my arm.  I put my left arm over her left hip and across her stomach, my little finger at the border of her groin where her thick, dark brown pubic hair started.  I moved my little finger slightly, ruffling her pubic curls gently, coarse and soft at the same time, tracing the line where her bikini panties had been hours earlier, moving in and out of the border of her groin, moving slowly, lightly from pubic curls to bare skin and back again ... just tracing, just lightly touching, lightly tracing, slowly back and forth, her panty / bikini line.  She moaned contentedly as I conformed my body to hers and she pulled the sheet and blanket up around us, getting comfortable then adjusting her posture against me.  She was beside me under the sheet, cuddled up, with me spooning her from behind … my left arm wrapped around her and her hand resting on mine, her fingers laced with mine.  

Freckles dusted her shoulders, her upper back, the side of her arms …  I kissed her softly on her arm, on her shoulder, and on her neck where the fall of her hair exposed bare skin.  

Just lightly kissed her over and over again, the feel of my lips against her warm skin.

"I guess last time wasn't enough?" she asked in a whisper, slightly amused.

I stopped kissing her shoulder.

"Huh?"

"That's twice tonight.  Are you going to let me get any sleep before tomorrow morning?" she asked, smiling.

I shrugged my shoulders.

"Depends on if I wake up horny again or not." I said.

Marie laughed.

"God! I don't know if I can take you waking up horny again!" she said, smiling.

"That's the chance you take when you close your eyes next to me." I said, thinking that sounded pretty damn good for something I just threw out there on the spot.

Marie laughed again, softly.

"I have to warn you ... I'm a light sleeper." I told her.

"Maybe I'll just smother you in your sleep ... use a pillow to make sure you never wake me up again." she said playfully, grabbing a pillow and turning around to try to put it over my face and head..

I took the pillow away from her and shoved it under my own head.  She got another pillow, put it under her head, and snuggled back down next to me, letting me spoon her from behind again.  My fingertips traced her skin, lightly, softly, played with her hair.  A minute passed.  Her breathing was soft.  Another minute.  Every now and then a contented little mumble or groan as I traced my fingertips over her skin, across her shoulders, the top of her arm, the side and back of her neck, her ear ... behind her ear, down the side of her throat, across her chest, tracing her neck line, tracing the area where a necklace would fall if she were wearing one.

"That's ... feels nice." she whispered.

"It's supposed to." I said.

"Why do you do that?"

"What?"

"Just ... touch me like that.  Just rubbing me like that with your fingertips."

I shrugged my shoulders and kept tracing her.

"Do you want me to stop?" I asked.

"No." she whispered.

"You're not used to this ... are you?" I asked.

"No." she whispered but it was a flat whisper.

"I can tell." I said.

She turned then to look at me.

"How can you tell?" she asked, her voice low.

"I can tell because you're soaking this up.  Ever since I first touched you last night you've soaked up every bit of attention I've given you, like you were starving for it."

She thought about that.

"Guess I have at that ..." she whispered.

"Like a flower in the desert." I said.

"Yeah.  Pretty much." She laughed softly.

I didn't comment on that, just kept touching her, rubbing her lightly ...

"Hey." she whispered.

"Yeah?" I asked, not looking at her but rather at her skin, at the freckles, at my fingertip gliding over her skin.

"Look at me ..." she said, turning around to face me, still wrapped in my arms.

I looked right into her whiskey brown eyes.

"Hey." she said again, smiling.

"Hey." I said, eye to eye, then letting myself smile.

She leaned forward then, slowly, shutting her eyes.

Closer.

Closer.

I closed my eyes and leaned in.

Hot breath.

Lips touched.

Slowly parted.

Her tongue slipped past my lips.

My tongue met hers.

We kissed.

Deeply.

Softly.

For a long time.

Then she withdrew, just as slow as she had engaged, and she turned away from me, snuggling down beside me again.  I moved back in close to her, spooning, pulling her to me close.

"I think you got a bit spirited there towards the end, didn't you?" she whispered.

That was an understatement.  Parts of me still hurt in ways that they'd never hurt before and I think the same might go for her as well.

"What can I say?  You go face down, bottom up that really brings out the Tarzan in me." I whispered.

There was a pause as that sank in.

"Go face down ... bottom up ... Tarzan!" she chortled.

Marie threw her head back and laughed out loud, threw her head back so hard that she boned me in the forehead, barely missing my nose.  When I jerked away to grab my forehead in pain she just laughed even harder, curling up there in a ball, facing me, wrapped in the sheets and laughing until tears started coming down her cheeks.  I don't know if it was what I said or what she accidentally did to me but it wasn't long before I started laughing as well.  She rubbed the back of her head and I rubbed my forehead as we laughed.  Marie then set up in bed and looked at me.

"So that was ... what?  Tarzan sex that we just had?" she asked, catching her breath.

I rubbed my forehead which still throbbed from her unintentional head butt.

"No ... when we do skull knocks like that, that's more like Neanderthal sex ... I don't advise having Neanderthal sex because I don't think you would like it very much."

She smiled.

Whiskey brown eyes.

"Okay ... I have to ask ... what is Neanderthal sex?" she asked, snickering and reaching out to rub my forehead.

"Well, let's put it this way ... foreplay for Neanderthal sex is pretty simple, not much to it at all ..."

Wait for it.

"It's simple, huh?"

Reel her in.

"Yeah.  I hit you over the head with my club and then grab you by the hair and drag you back to my cave to have my way with you."

Marie laughed again then smiled at me, looking at me over the top of her knees which she had just pulled up to her chest.

"And what would you do with me once you got me back to your cave?" she asked, cutting her eyes at me.

"Oh ... I'd probably throw you over a rock, you know, face down, bottom up and just do you Dino style."

"Dino style?" she asked, laughing a little behind her drawn up knees.

"Yeah ... you know ... Dino style ... like Fred Flintstone's pet dinosaur?"

"I'm almost afraid to ask ... what's Dino style?"

Wait for it.

"Well ..." I started.

"Yeah?"

I reached over suddenly, grabbed her, and flipped her around on the bed, pulling her to me.  Before she could even cry out in surprise I was behind her grinding my groin against her bottom making the high pitched "BowWowpWowpWowp!" sounds just like Fred Flintstone's cartoon pet dinosaur, just rooting and rutting against her in a comical fashion.  Marie laughed hard and tried to pull away but I pulled her back against me and just played into the whole role, rolling over on my back and letting her collapse there on top of me, laughing, kicking and squirming.  I let go and just lay there with her on top of me, each of us catching our breath.

"So ... That's ... Dino style?" she asked going limp as my hands came up around her and held her tight to me, my chest to her back, her hair flopped over me, partially over my face.

"Well, I have to slobber a bunch on you, lick you a lot and then bury the bone but ... yeah."

"I think you've already done that ... all of that ... " she laughed, shaking her head. 

"Yeah.  I guess I have." I whispered.

I pulled her back to me and held her, again.  She didn't resist and we held each other like that for a minute ... maybe more ... me lost in her presence there next to me and every now and then her giving a small chuckle and shaking her head slightly.

"You know ... getting dragged back to the bedroom by my hair ... that just might be fun." she whispered.

"Yeah?" I asked.  "You won't say that when your bottom gets a carpet burn on it from getting dragged across the shag ..."

"Dragged across the shag." Marie said as she laughed.

"Tonight's feature presentation on Adult Masterpiece Theater is "Dragged across the Shag" starring Cock Hudson and Ivanna Humpalot." I said in a very professional, elderly sounding voice.

Marie laughed hard.

"You make it sound like some kind of ... stag film." she said, catching her breath.

"Wow!" I said, chuckling.

"What?" she asked.

"Stag film?" I asked.

"Yeah?  What about it?"

"Sorry.  It's just that I haven't heard a porno called a "stag" film in a long time."

"That's what we always called them.  A bunch of boys back in high school used to brag about having one.  They told me about watching it.  Asked me if I wanted to see it." Marie said.

"Did you?" I asked, curious.

"No.  Didn't think it would be a good idea to be the only girl there with eight or ten football players." she said.

"Might have been the script for a new stag film." I said.

"That's what I was afraid of ... "

I stroked her as she lay next to me.

"Have you ever seen a ... "

"Stag film?" I asked, snickering.

"Yeah.  A ... hell, a sex movie." she asked.

I nodded.

"A few times.  Can't say there's much to the script or story.  It's pretty mindless but then I don't guess you watch something like that expecting Shakespeare.  Some of the stuff gets ridiculous ... like the scenarios that they put together.  It's weak, really weak, like some guy is buying a house and ends up having sex on the sofa with the realtor to close the deal." I said.

"Seriously?" she asked.

"Seriously.  Like I said ... no real plot.  Buy a house, have sex with the realtor.  Pool cleaner boy has sex in the pool house with the rich unhappy wife.  Silly stuff like that ... like I guess they somehow need a backstory to explain why two people want to have sex."

"How many of those films have you seen?" she asked, turning her head to look over my shoulder.

"Four or five." I said.

"Okay ... how old were you when you saw your first ... sex film?" she asked.

I thought back.

Memories.

"Saw the first one when I was thirteen."

"Thirteen?"

I nodded.

"Okay ... tell me that story."

"Not much to tell.  It really wasn't all that monumental at the time, either." I shrugged my shoulders next to her.

"Tell me anyway ..."

"Why?" I asked.

"Because I want to hear about it."

"Okay ... My friends and I were all together at my friend Matt's house and one of my friends said he had a porn tape.  Matt said we'd watch it after his parents went to sleep for the night and since we had two horror movies we just watched those instead.  I remember that we watched "House by the Cemetary" and "Nightmare on Elm Street" and we watched them back to back.  We waited on his parents to go to sleep then we took the VCR, the TV and a pair of extension cords and we all went outside in the backyard to his dad's wooden storage shed."

"His dad's storage shed?"

"Yeah."

"Wow." she said.

"That place smelled like old pesticide and fertilizer and potting soil and bugs but we sat out there watching the porno, all of us in this big half circle around the TV and VCR in the dark with just the glow of the TV to light up the place.  There was Chris, his brother Pat, Jay, his brother Mark, Kenny and Matt and me.  We had a pair of extension cords run all the way out to the shed and since the shed didn't have any windows and his parents slept like they were dead we thought we were pretty safe from prying eyes."

"But you weren't." she said.

"Nope." I said, laughing.

Marie took a sudden deep breath.

"You didn't get caught by his parents, did you?" she asked.

I shook my head.

"No.  Better.  We got caught by Matt's older brother, Mark."

"You're serious."

"Yeah.  Mark came in from a date and noticed that the TV and the VCR in the living room were missing.  At first he thought the house had gotten robbed but then he looked around, saw the pair of extension cords going across the backyard out to the shed and kind of figured out where the TV and VCR had gone ... he just hadn't figured out why."

"What did he do?" Marie asked as she started giggling.

"Let's put it this way ... he snuck out there and he scared the crap out of everyone in the shed."

"No!" Marie said, laughing.

"Oh, yeah, he did!  We were all sitting there in this old dark shed, watching this porno ... I even forget what it was called, didn't really matter I guess, because we were pretty much making fun of it all the way through and suddenly the shed door just slams wide open and we hear this big deep voice shout "What are you boys doing out here?!""

Marie started laughing hard and I started laughing at the memory.

"Man!  You should have seen it!  When Matt's brother threw that shed door open and shouted at us like that I think nearly everyone in there almost wet their pants." I said, laughing so hard that I almost couldn't catch my breath.

Marie was laughing so hard now her body was wracked next to mine.

"Oh, God!  That's funny!" she choked out in between laughing.

"Yeah.  Almost everyone in the shed jumped straight up, two bailed and started to run across the yard ... I don't know where they thought they were going.  I think the two calmest kids in the shed were Matt and me and for different reasons all together."

"What did Matt do?"

"That's the weird thing.  Matt didn't even blink an eye, it was almost like he knew that was his brother doing the pranking.  I guess they pranked each other so much that Matt just suspected his brother would be the one throwing the door open rather than their dad.  Any way, after that everything was cool.  His older brother never sold us out and we joked about it for a long time after that ...  Still remember that, all these years later ... "

"That's funny." she whispered, giggling again.

"Yeah.  Now it is.  When it happened, not so much but I guess you had to be there."

"What did you do when his brother busted in on all of you like that?"

I smiled.

"Well, I was sitting next to the shed door using it as a back rest and when Mark jerked the door open I literally fell out of the shed backwards.  I didn't have time to be scared or do anything other than be really surprised that suddenly I was falling over backwards.  I went from watching the porno to suddenly leaning on empty air and nothing.  I was flipping backwards, seeing night sky, moon, stars, grass, Mark standing there shouting like he was Matt's dad, seeing two of my friends jump out of the shed and start to run away and then I hit my head on the ground and saw a bunch of new stars and bright lights."

More giggling.

"How old were you?" she asked.

"Thirteen."

"Thirteen!  God you were young!  I was seventeen when the guys asked me if I wanted to see that sex film."

"Gotta start somewhere ... better early than late I guess." I said. 

"I guess." she whispered.  "Still haven't seen one ... uh ... sex film."

"Don't worry.  You haven't missed anything."

She murmured something I couldn't understand and I ran my hands through her hair, slowly.  She closed her eyes and I stroked her cheek, her neck, and her shoulder.

"Still ... dragging you by the hair from one end of the apartment to the other ... I don't know ... you might actually like it." I whispered.

"You never know ..." she whispered back.

"Well, I do know that you seem to like it when I pull your hair ..." I said.

Marie smiled, took a bit of her long hair and twirled it nonchalantly.

"Can't help it.  Doing something like that kind of lets me know I'm yours.."

Huh?

Marie turned in my arms to face me.

"Let's just say that pulling my hair does for me what ... I think ... me being face down, bottom up does for you." she whispered.

"Brings out the Tarzan in you?" I asked.

"I wouldn't say that ... but pulling my hair brings out the ... wild woman in me." she whispered, moving closer and kissing me on my forehead then moving down and kissing me on the lips.

"You're serious?" I asked, not believing her.

"Rowrrrrr." she half growled, half purred in her throat.

"It does?" I asked, feeling myself stir once more at the sound of her growl.

"Mmmmhmmm." she said, again, moving in closer.

"And do you know what?" she whispered, her lips right next to mine.

I felt her hot breath on my lips.

"What?" I whispered.

"That part where you got on top of me and you put your legs over mine and grabbed me by the wrists and just took control ... "

"Yeah ..."

"Yeah, that really and I mean really put me over the top there towards the end."

Really put her over the top?

Wow!

"Really?" I asked.

"Seeing stars really." she whispered, nuzzling me.

Damn.

I didn't have much time to think about what she had just said because her lips were on mine.

Her tongue to mine.

Her lips to mine.

We kissed like that ... just lightly, just lips touching, tongues touching, lips touching.  Hot breath, wet lips.  Our kissing went on for what seemed forever then she suddenly withdrew.  I hadn't opened my eyes the entire time we'd been doing that but now I was looking at a really mischevious look on her face.  She bit her lower lip.

"And ... Going to sleep now.  Nighty-night." she whispered, in a little girl's voice, almost teasingly.

Before I could say anything she turned, suddenly, readjusted the sheets and covers to cover her, rolling and yanking all of the cover off of me and wrapping it around her.

"Hey!"

She didn't answer, just made a fake snoring sound.

"Hey!"

I poked her in her bottom with my finger and she flinched.

"What?" she asked, not even looking at me this time.

"You've got to give me some cover."

"Nuh uh.  Get your own.  I'm going back to sleep."

I looked around the room ... nothing.

"There is no more cover." I said.

"Tough.  Now leave me alone.  I'm going to sleep." she said.

"Not with all the covers on you, you're not."

"Just watch me, buster." she growled.

I frowned then poked her in her bottom with my finger again.

Again.

Harder.

She huffed.

"What?" she asked, playing like she was irritated.

"Am I going to get any of that?" I asked, poking her in the bottom again while looking at how she was covered up.

"I'd say you already got some of that." Marie chided, smiling and slowly turning to look at me over her shoulder.

"Come on ... Give me some of the cover.  I'll get cold." I said.

"If I give you some of the cover then I'll be cold." she whined, playing with me.

"There's plenty for both of us ... at least there was before you rolled up like a burrito there so share and I'll spoon you and keep you warm."

Marie looked at me ... mischevious.  

Still a bit playful.

Still wanting to play.

"What if I don't want to share?" she asked.  "What if I'm comfortable ... Just.  The.  Way.  I.  Am?"

Each of her last words a separate sentence in and of itself.

I sighed and looked at her.  She could tell that I was getting a little frustrated but she still wanted to play.  That much was evident.  Well, I had a little play left in me as well.

"If you won't give me any cover then I guess I'll just have to make you."

"And how do you think you're going to do that?" she asked.

Suddenly I reached forward and grabbed her in her sides, tickling her ribs through the covers and she jerked her body plank straight, let out a howl, squealing and squirming around as I tickled her.  She tried to get away but I was on her, holding her, tickling her.  Oh, she was ticklish!  I had to remember that!  She kicked and pawed at me like a playful kitten but she had wrapped herself up in the sheet and cover being playful and now that was working against her by trapping her.  I flipped her over on her stomach, wrapped up like she was it was easy as flipping a rolled up rug.  She was still rolled up partially in the blanket and sheet so that in and of itself was restricting her movements but below her knees was now exposed.  

Bare legs below the knees.

The bare bottoms of her feet.

I sat on her legs, just above her knees, stradling and pinning her.  I reached down and grabbed one of her exposed legs, bending it back and I began to tickle her exposed foot.

"Oh God!  No you don't!  Don't you dare!  If you do I swear I'll ..." she pleaded.

I did ... and that's when she went absolutely nuts; thrashing around, laughing, crying, threatening, pleading, begging ... trying to reach back for me but I'd played this game before.  I had her laughing so hard that she could barely catch her breath.  I had all of my weight over a part of her legs where she couldn't do anything but flop at the torso and squirm at the waist.  I was limiting her ability to turn around and in doing so I was also staying out of her arms' reach.  I had her right where I wanted her and I tickled her feet as she thrashed.  I tickled her until she was begging me to stop, tears in her eyes, her breath coming in gasps, and her threatening me that if I kept that up that she was going to wet herself or she was going to wet the bed.   I let her up and while she was recovering, sitting there, her legs pulled in tight to her chest, looking like a kitten that hadn't decided if it was through playing, I took the cover she had taken all for herself and I did my best to spread it across the bed or at least across us.  I patted the bed beside me and she slowly, cautiously moved in to curl up next to me.  I tucked us in, her next to me, me spooning her.

"I thought you had to pee ..." I said.

"I would have ... if you hadn't stopped tickling me."

"You know, if you had wet the bed then I'd have made you sleep in the wet spot." I said.

"Meanie." Marie said as she kicked me, playfully, by slamming her foot back against my shin.

The swipe of a kitten's paw.

Quiet.

Me holding her ... just holding her.  Touching her softly, tracing her body with my fingertip, lightly, just barely touching her.

"You really don't play fair, you know that, don't you?" she chided in a whisper that faded out to nothing.

"Would you have it any other way?" I asked her, curious as to what her answer might be.

Marie took a few seconds to think about that.

"No." she whispered, closing her eyes.

Didn't think so.

I bit her lightly on her shoulder and she moaned, touched her hand to my head, pulling me to her as I kissed her shoulder, her neck and nuzzled her head.  I put my arms around her and snuggled her in close.  Within minutes she was asleep again, breathing softly there as I held her.  I held her, thinking about her, thinking about us, thinking about what we had done ... and if, after this time together there'd ever be another time like this.  

I was lost in deep, maybe even selfish thoughts of Marie when hard earned, hard won sleep found me as well.



My alarm went off at five and I woke to that unfamiliar bedroom once more.  For a second I had that fear again of not knowing where I was or how I had gotten there because nothing was familiar but then everything came rushing back.  I guess I’d fallen asleep thinking about Marie and the events leading up to the here and now.  The lamp was still on and I was still in bed with Marie.

Marie.

My first speeding ticket and a roller coaster week had brought me to this exact moment in time.  I thought back to those events again, quickly replaying them in my mind but not dwelling on any one in particular for any long amount of time.  I turned my head there on the pillow and looked at the naked Marie asleep next to me, cuddled up beside me, her right leg over mine, her right arm and hand on my chest and her head in the crook of my shoulder.  She was wearing my black T-shirt now and nothing else.  When she had gotten up out of bed to go get my T-shirt out of the kitchen I had no idea but there she was, wearing my black T-shirt.  I admired the curves of her body, how her bottom arched and how I got just the peek of her dark brown bushy pubic curls there exposed next to my thigh.  I ran my fingers through her long brunette hair … my fingers moving slowly through her long hair.  

Hair like dry water, falling, flowing through my fingers.

The smell of her hair.

The smell of her skin.

The smell of her there next to me.

Realizing I had only about an hour before I needed to be home, it was with some amount of sadness that I woke her gently with soft touches, soft words and soft kisses because it was time to go and I needed my shirt back because nothing causes your parents to really interrogate you like being out all night long and showing up the next morning bare chested.

Once she had gotten comfortable with being awake she climbed out of bed, stood and stretched.  I marveled at her stretching, her arms high, hands clasped as my T-shirt rode up on her arched back fully exposing her bottom … her sexy bottom.  My eyes fell to that space between her thighs where I could catch a glimpse of the dark pubic curls of her nature, the puffy "w" shape of her womanhood and I felt an urge for her, a want for her, a need for her, again start building way down low inside me.  I wanted to lose myself in her, again.

I watched her stretch in front of me … 

Marie finished stretching and she turned to face me, the bottom of my T-shirt riding an inch above the dark brown pubic curls that formed the upside down triangle of her groin.  That instant in time, that image of her like that, was seared into my memory.  She started to take my T-shirt off, slowly.  I watched the shirt rise past her navel, clear her belly, rise over her full breasts and then slide over her neck and head.  Her long hair popped out of the shirt as she pulled it over her head.  She handed the shirt back to me and I took it from her but I didn’t put it on, I just kept staring at her naked body, taking her in, letting my eyes slowly wander across her curves, her features, across everything that made her all so decidedly a woman ... so decidedly a very desirable woman.

“What?” she asked in a half whisper, smiling, crossing her arms and covering her breasts in doing so, almost hugging herself.

“You.” I said.

“Me?”

“You.”

“What about me?” she asked, half cautiously, half curiously.

“Everything.” I said, no hesitation on my part.

Marie blushed.

“Everything about you … you’re …” I said and tried to find a word that didn’t sound dumb or inadequate.

“What?” she asked, smiling.

“Beautiful.” I said.  “You’re so ... beautiful.”

Marie leaned close to me, slowly closing the distance between us, and kissed me gently on top of the head.

“What time is it?” she whispered.

I looked over at the clock on the end-table.

“A quarter after five.  I’ve got to get going.”

“Got things to do today?” she asked.

“Yeah.” I said, realizing that I had absolutely nothing to do at all today.

I told her that I was going to get a quick shower and that I had to leave after that.  Marie walked up and stood in front of me.

“Don’t forget …  I need you to take me back to the store to pick up my car.  We left it there last night, remember?” She said softly, nuzzling her head against my chest.

Oh, yeah.

Right.

Damn.

I’d forgotten all about that little detail of our adventure.  Logistics could be a real bitch sometimes, especially if you were trying to get somewhere on time and someone else was involved.


I stepped into the shower and started to let the hot water run over me, closing my eyes and relaxing, feeling the hot water play over the sore muscles in my neck and back.  I don't know how long I stood there, hot water running over my body but the next thing I knew as that the shower curtain was roughly pulled aside and Marie stepped in as well, naked, pulling the shower curtain back closed behind her.  She had a mischievous look on her face as she moved up next to me, her now wet body conforming to mine as her hands roamed and her mouth and tongue found mine.  The hot water ran between us, over our bodies as we stood there kissing deeply, our arms and legs wrapped around each other, slithering against each other, our skin slick as hot water cascaded over our bodies.  Our lips met, our tongues wrapped around each other.  I felt my need for her awaken again and she felt it too, sliding both of her hands down to my groin, taking me in her hands.

I started to say something but Marie gently pulled away then slowly dropped to her knees in front of me.  I felt her cheek on me, rubbing me across her cheek and lips, then I felt her lips on me, her mouth, her tongue, her hands and I let her worship me.  She let me be selfish this time.  She built me up to completion and this time it was a straight forward rush that left me weak.   My grip on the shower curtain rod and the shower head threatened to pull one down on top of us and jerk the other right out of the wall but they held even as I let go.   Marie never withdrew from me, her hands moved around to my bottom and fingers spread, pulling me into her, taking everything that I had without complaint.

That had been ... unreal.

When I finally opened my eyes I stared down at her.  Marie, her hair slick with water, beads of water across her body, opened her eyes slowly, withdrew from her attention to me and looked up at me.  She slowly stood in front of me, pulling me to her and wrapping her body around me again.  There in the shower, her worshipping me like that … I counted that as a first as well.  It wasn't the first time that I'd showered with a girl but it was the first time that a girl ... no, a woman ... had done that to me, all the way to completion, especially in the shower.

And it had been given to me with nothing expected in return.

Given because she wanted to give it. 

I put that in my Book of Firsts as well.

My hands ran down her wet back, up again, found her bottom, pulled her into me, cupped her and held her.  There was something so sensual about touching her wet skin, her slick bare skin as the hot water cascaded over us.  She crushed her lips against mine and her tongue slid into my mouth and mine into hers and we kissed, deep, for what seemed an eternity.  Tongues dancing around each other and hands sliding over skin soaked slick in the hot water spray of the shower.  When she withdrew she put her forehead to mine, the tip of her nose to mine and we stood like that for what seemed like an eternity.

God …

I didn’t know what to say because anything that I thought I might say just sounded really, really dumb so instead I just pulled her to me, pulled her water slicked hair in my clenched fingers and she moaned, opening her mouth a little as I pulled her head up to be level with my own.  I moved in, my lips wrapped around her lips and my tongue found hers.  I pushed her back, hard, into the tiled wall of the shower.  We kissed, long, hard, deep, there in the shower with the water running over our bodies.  I let my kiss show her what I thought of her wants and her desires and how much I appreciated what she was willing, what she wanted, to do for me.  I pulled her hair, hard, to twist her head like I wanted, to expose her neck and shoulder, to nibble and bite her, to crush my lips against hers and try to yank her tongue out of her mouth with my own tongue.  I rubbed across her cheek, across her neck, up to her ear, nibbled her ear as she moaned and groaned there in my arms.  And like that we kissed and held each other for a long time there in the shower ... losing ourselves in each other amidst the tight confines and the steam of the water ...

Afterwards we bathed each other, taking turns exploring each other and quickly rinsing off after the hot water finally started to run out.  I stepped out of the shower, dried off, and then helped her step out.  I dried her off, taking my time and held her there in front of the wide mirror above the dual sinks, just held her and stared at our reflection, our bodies wrapped in towels, holding each other, nuzzling each other.  She turned to me, put her arms around me and her towel fell to the floor.  I ran my hands over her naked body, losing my towel in the process as well.  She turned, her back to my chest as we stood there, again, just lost in each other, lost in our reflection as if seeing ourselves, as if seeing each other for the first time.  She put her head against my shoulder and I ran my hands through her still damp hair.  There we were, skin to skin, chest to back, bare feet on cool tile floor, our image staring back at us from the mirror, our image searing itself into my memory.

Marie's body wasn’t super model fine and it probably wouldn’t have ever graced the swimsuit issue of Sports Illustrated but it wasn’t dumpy or plain either.  It was almost catalog stock, the kind of body you might find on a woman that was modeling women’s clothing in a Sears catalog or a woman you'd find on display in a copy of Hustler Rejects or even a polaroid from the magazine's "Beaver Hunt" section.  She had long arms, long fingers.  Her breasts were large, natural and bouncy, each a good handful and maybe a little more.  Several light bronze colored stretch marks radiated from her large areolas across the surface of her breasts, like a spider web, almost invisible until you got really close or the light hit them just right.  Her large nipples stood out like the tips of my thumb and when she was excited lines popped up around her nipples like the exposed roots of an old stump.

Her bottom was sexy, full, and upside down heart-shaped.  Her stomach had just a hint of droop to it and where it began to drop down into her groin another set of light bronze colored stretch marks radiated up from her upside down dark brown pubic triangle, more noticeable than the stretch marks on her breasts but still not so much that they stood out or drew attention away from her natural beauty.  The radiating stretch marks above her groin made me think of the classic rays radiating up and away in a caricature of the sun.

There were no scars on her body but she had a dusting of freckles across her nose, across her shoulders, across her chest, across the tops of her breasts, down her arms … dots from the sun.  Her legs were long and strong and when she stood there with me, we shared almost the same height.

Marie had a great body.  

It wasn’t perfect meaning it wasn’t sculpted by personal trainers and unlimited budgets all with the eye to sell something in a commercial venue and make an obscene profit off of gullible women who weren't comfortable with who they were.  No, Marie’s body was natural and she was natural, not some animated mannequin put on display for profit’s sake.  Marie was the woman who had just moved in next door … the single woman you took quick glances at when she was outside working her yard or getting her mail.  Marie was a suburban fixture … She looked like someone's mom ... anyone's mom.  If she didn’t drive that big, gold Lincoln she would have been right at home driving around in a full size Pontiac station wagon or Chevrolet passenger van, maybe with a pair of kids riding along inside.  She could have been a librarian, a doctor, a teacher, a nurse, a legal secretary, or any of a hundred different jobs that a woman like her could have made her life around … but right then and there, she was in my arms with my hands slowly moving over her body, taking her all in, and marveling at her natural beauty.

Marie was a mystery and the more I tried to solve that mystery the deeper the mystery became and the more questions I had to ask myself about her.

Marie was natural, she had a natural beauty to her and I lost myself in her.   I lost myself in the feel of her warm, smooth skin under my fingertips as I slowly glided my hands and fingers over her, barely touching her, my fingertips barely touching her skin ... gliding.  I lost myself in the smell of her skin as my lips hovered over her shoulder, kissing her, moving gently up her neck line to her ear.  I lost myself in her sighs, in her quick little gasps when something I did sent a tiny jolt through her body and set her skin alive with goose bumps.  I was lost in Marie, I was lost in the moment, just being with her, right then, right there.  It was all that I wanted ... just being with her, right then and there, like that, holding her, gently touching her, fingertips gliding over her skin, watching the reflection of her there held in my arms, her mouth slightly open, her eyes closed, and listening to the sounds that she was making ... soft sounds.

Her eyes were closed, her mouth open slightly and she was moaning in a low, soft way … maybe less of a moan and more of a … purr.  

A contented, secure purr.  

I wanted to say something to her but nothing felt like I should say it so instead I held her in my arms for a little while, for what little while we had left together there in the last of the darkness that we shared before the sunrise.

We got dressed, putting on the same clothes that we had worn the night before … her probably for simple convenience and me because I didn’t have anything else to wear.  My T-shirt smelled of her … her perfume, her natural body scent, a hint of her sweat and even somewhat like her long hair.  I reveled in it, breathed her in deep.  Her scent, even though faded, was still heady and intoxicating.

We left and she locked the apartment door behind her and took my hand as we walked down the breezeway to the parking lot.  It was early light, overcast and gray.  I held the passenger side door of the Camaro Rally Sport open for her and helped her in.  Our drive back to County Market that early morning was spent in silence listening to nothing but the dull roar of the small block V8 under the hood.  Marie sat there in the passenger seat, legs crossed at her ankles, leaning on the center console with her left arm through my right arm and her head on my shoulder for the whole trip.  I put my head on top of hers and nuzzled her in turn.

I’d never been with someone like Marie before.

Neither of us said anything because I guess right then and there neither of us really needed to say anything.  It was as simple as that.  We were each lost to our own thoughts and those thoughts were probably about each other … at least I know that my thoughts were about her.

I pulled my Camaro Rally Sport up beside her big gold Lincoln and put the console shifted three speed automatic transmission up into Park.  Dew covered her car from hood to trunk in a fine, visible layer of wetness.  Marie hadn’t moved from where she sat leaned over the center console with her head resting on my shoulder.  I tilted my head and nuzzled her again, breathing in the smell of her long hair and closing my eyes as I did so.   Eric Clapton's "Layla" started playing on the radio.   It was a long song, almost seven minutes worth of limited lyrics, a dump truck load of haunting guitar chords and a seemingly never ending piano coda.  It was on my list of favorite songs, one of few that Clapton did that I liked, but "Layla" was definitely on my list.

God Marie smelled good, every part of her. 

I wanted to be with her, again. 

Here and now. 

I couldn’t get enough of her; there was just something about her.  With her, here, now, I could lose myself completely in her and that was a feeling that I just didn’t ever want to end.  I wanted to turn the Camaro around, drive back to her place, pull her clothes off and spend the rest of the day in bed with her, naked, exploring her, sleeping with her, showering with her, holding her … over and over and over again until I was just physically too spent, too raw, too sore to do anything else.  I wanted to utterly lose myself in this woman, totally and completely.

Again.

Time after time.

But was she feeling the same way?

Marie hadn’t said a word the whole way back to the store and even now we sat in silence.  There was that uncomfortable silence again … that damn uncomfortable silence like we were running out of momentum … like what we had shared was ending now … possibly forever.  Maybe somewhere out there, in the soundtrack of my life, some sad piano was softly playing in adagio, had already reached its crescendo, and was even now fading out.  All that was missing was some biting cold and a constant down pour of rain.  I would have said snow on the ground but it just didn’t snow in Mississippi.

Was this the first and last time that I’d be with Marie?

I didn’t want to think about that as a possibility.

I didn’t want that.

Maybe it was selfish of me but I wanted Marie.  I wanted to see her, to be with her, again.

I wanted her all to myself.

As many times as I could and as often as I could.

I wanted to say something but everything I thought about saying just sounded clichéd when I played it over in my mind so I went with the only thing that I felt was safe to say and even that sounded overly clichéd.

“Can I see you again?” I asked, finally breaking the silence.

That sounded really stupid, maybe even greedy, but it was the only thing that sounded the least stupid when I thought about saying it.  I really wanted to see her again more than anything and I was scared of what her answer was going to be.  I was scared that last night was just a one-time thing, a fluke, something that really shouldn’t have happened but somehow happened anyway and now could never ever happen again.

“Do you want to see me again?” she asked, not even bothering to look up.

Huh?  That was a dumb question, I thought.  A really dumb question given what we had just shared in the last few hours.

“Yes.  I want to see you again.  What kind of question is that?”I asked her softly, kissing her on the top of the head and trying to reassure her.

Marie looked up then, staring into my eyes.  There was a kind of sadness in her expression and I felt afraid that what we had shared last night would be all that we would ever share.  I didn’t like the idea of that.

“What’s wrong?” I asked her.

“It’s … complicated.” She said with a frown.

“Not for me it isn’t.  I know what I want ... I want you.” I said, smiling and trying to get her to smile.

It didn’t work.  If anything, she sank farther down into her sullen mood.

“No.  Not for you.  Never for you but for me …it’s just … all of this ... it's complicated … For me.” She answered in a whisper, frowning.

I sighed.

“Marie?”

Nothing.

“Marie?” I said, louder this time.

This time she started a little then slowly looked up at me.

“Can I see you again?” I asked, still not sure if she had given me an answer or not.

“I think so.” She said, looking out the passenger side window.  “Probably.”

“Probably?”

“Probably.” She whispered.

I sighed and looked at her but she didn’t seem to want to make eye contact.  Suddenly I felt frustrated.

“You know, that’s not really an answer …  That’s more like … I don’t know … more like a guess than a real answer.” I said, knowing her reply certainly wasn’t the answer I was looking for.

“Sorry.  That's the best I can do.” Marie said flatly as she shrugged her shoulders, pulled away from me and sat up in the passenger seat.

Best that she could do, I thought?

“Best I can do ... for right now.” She whispered, almost as if reading my thoughts.

She put her arms around her chest and stared at the floor of the passenger side.  I put my head back into the driver’s seat, closed my eyes and said nothing.  Silence.  We were swimming in awkwardness.  I had to get some kind of control, get some kind of answers and make some kind of sense of what we had shared and where we might be going with that.

“I guess the real question I need to ask you is … do you want to see me again?”

“Yes.” Marie said firmly with no hesitation though she never looked up when she said it.

That made me feel better, a lot better than I’d felt just a minute ago.  Where there was a will there was a way or so my mom had always told me.  There was definitely a will to see each other, now all we had to do was work out a way to see each other … but what was keeping us apart?  What was complicating what we had?  This woman was definitely a mystery.

“And it’s not if I can see you again so much as it’s going to be when I can see you again.  Right?” I surmised out loud.

“Yes.  Something like that.” Marie said, still staring at the floor of the passenger side.

“And that’s all going to have to be up to you?”

Marie nodded.

“Why?” I asked.

“Because it’s ... complicated.” She said flatly.

“Complicated.” I mused.

“It's complicated.” She said.

I wasn’t quite sure that I was happy with that answer but it seemed to be the only answer I was going to get from her, at least for now.

“So … can I call you … Now that I know where you live maybe come by and see you sometime at your place?  You know, pick you up, take you out …?”

Marie turned to me, concern in her eyes.  Real concern so hard that it made my blood go cold.

“Don’t do that.  Don't ever do that.” She said, flatly, authoritatively and I could tell that it was a command that was also cast in stone never to be broken because that’s the way her words hit me right then.

Marie had just drawn a line and told me never to cross that line.  I guess my expression gave me away because when she looked up at me her stern expression softened a bit, just a bit.

"Why?"

“Just … please don’t do that.”

Not getting any answers ... so I threw something out there to break the suddenly uncomfortable silence between us.

“Ok.  Let me guess.  Doing that would … complicate things?”

“Yes, it would.  Very much so.” she said, no hesitation in her voice.

“Right.  So you can come find me but I can’t come and find you?  That’s how it is and that’s how it’s got to be?”

She started to say something then shrugged her shoulders and sighed.  I looked over and stared at her.  She was lost in thought, deep thought.  Her expression said that she was really wrestling with something, deep down inside.  The haunting piano chords of "Layla" played softly on the Kenwood.

“Look … how will …” I started to ask but Marie interrupted me.

“If you come by my place I may not be there.”

That confused me.  Why wouldn't ...

“Work?” I asked.  “Is it because of what you do?”

She started to say something, she looked like she really wanted to say something and then just didn’t.

“It’s work, isn’t it?”

“It’s …” she began.  “That’s part of it.  Kind of."

"Okay ..."

"Look, Christopher, like I said ... all of this ... it’s just really, really …”

“Complicated.” I said flatly, probably quicker than I should have.

She nodded, like I’d taken the word out of her mouth and I guess that I had.

“Complicated.” I said again, flatly.

“I know that I’m using that one word a lot but … it’s the only word, the best word, I know of that … describes … what it’s like … right now ... for me.”

I sighed maybe a little too loudly and she seemed to take that the wrong way.  I could almost see her getting defensive and ready to go into full blown argue mode so I put up my hands to reassure her that arguing with her was the last thing that I wanted to do right then and it really was.  Hell, I was just trying to figure out what I'd gotten myself into, how deep I was in it and where it was going, that is, if it was going anywhere at all.

“Hey!  Look!  I’m sorry.  I know.  I know.  It’s complicated.  For you.  I understand that.  It’s okay.  Look!  It’s okay!”

I showed her my open hands, motioning that she should calm down and back down.  She calmed, visibly.  I sighed more to myself this time as I turned in my seat, put my chin in my hand resting on the window and just stared out into the early morning nothingness that was the County Market parking lot.  I thought about everything that had happened … to me, between me and Marie, about last night … and it all brought me right back to here.

Right here.

Right now.

Sitting in my car with her.

“Marie, what happened between us, last night …”

Marie looked up at me then, whiskey brown eyes and a touch of sadness.

“That was … incredible … but it’s … not …” I paused, trying to find the words I wanted.

The words I needed weren't there.  

“It’s not … what?” she asked, concerned.

I went looking for the words I needed and I couldn't find them.  I couldn't find the damn words that I needed to say.  My mind was spinning gears and I was shouting at myself, inside my skull, to hurry up and say something ... something pertinent, something that meant something.

"What?" she asked again.

I sighed and held up a finger for her to wait a second as I collected my thoughts, found the words I wanted to say and tried to get my brain in gear with my mouth.  All in all it was an epic effort right then and there and I barely succeeded in combining those tasks.

“Look … what we shared last night … if we never shared that again … if what happened never happened again or if what happened never could happen again I just want you to know that I’d still want to see you … again … and again.  I'd still want to be with you.  I’d want to see you any time that I could.  I’d want to spend time with you, whenever I could, even if I could never … we could never … have what we had like we had what we had last night ... again.”

Marie stared at me ... just stared at me.

"Yeah.  Diagram that sentence for some bonus points on your next test." I whispered.

Marie bit her lower lip and closed her eyes.  She looked like she was almost about to cry.

Think fast, Shields!

Think fast, damn it! 

Think fast!

You're going to lose this!

You're going to lose her!

You're going to fuck this up!

My mouth popped into gear a second before my brain did but this time I think my mouth was smarter than my brain.

“Just being with you, like here, like now … I’m happy, Marie.  You make me happy.  I don’t have to have anything else but you, here, with me, and I’m happy.”

And that was the truth, it really was.  

There was just something about this woman that just being with her was one of the better things in life.  She slowly rocked back and forth in place, slowly, like she was working out some huge problem in her head.  She really looked like she was going to cry and when I thought that she might tear up she turned her head, made a sniffle sound and then turned back to face me.  She was at the edge of her composure and it was starting to show.  Depending on what I said or how I handled this, the water works were in the future if I screwed up.  She was that close to opening the faucet on those whiskey brown eyes and I don’t think that I could have stood to see that, not from her, not from those beautiful eyes.

“I understand.  Hey, I understand.” I told her.  “It’s got to be this way because it's complicated.  It’s up to you if and when you see me again.”

Marie nodded, sniffling again.

I reached over and put my hand against her cheek, lifting her head slightly.

"If that's the way it has to be ... if that's what it takes to see you again ... I can live with that, no problem."

Marie sniffed but still didn't look up at me.

“It’s just better if I see you … if I come to see you, when I can.  It’s got to be that way … okay, Christopher?” she said, her voice starting to break and crack.

“Okay ... and I'm fine with that.” I said, trying to reassure her but the only reassurance I got from her was a nod of her head.

“Otherwise it could get … it’s going to get … complicated.  Really complicated."

Marie laughed softly then to herself.

"Ha.  Yeah.  Really, really complicated really, really fast.  Boy, will it …” she said, trailing off.

“And you don’t need complicated …”

Marie suddenly threw her head back and laughed out loud, she did it so quick that I almost jumped in my seat.

“Need?  Do I need my life to get complicated?  God!  No!  Hell no!  Complicated is the last damn Goddamn thing I need in my life right now!  The.  Absolute.  Last.  Goddamn.  Thing.” she exclaimed as she shoved her hand and fingers into her hair, dug tight and closed her eyes, mouthing the last words as independent sentences in their own right.

I waited, not sure what I had gotten myself into but not willing to bail yet.

“Guess I should really have … taken all that into consideration before … Christ!  It doesn’t matter now.  Not that it ever really did, I guess.  Just one more thing to have to deal with in my life right now.” She muttered, the last part whispered to herself.

I mulled over what she had just said, trying to make sense of any of it and not really being able to.

“Damn it.  It was just so simple last night.  Why can’t it just be that simple all the damn time?” she whispered, frustrated.

“Because it’s complicated.” I whispered.

I said that and immediately regretted it because part of me felt that Marie was going to hear that and just lay into me with her fists like a runaway jackhammer.  Surprisingly ... she didn't.  Surprisingly she started to calm down.

“Because it’s complicated.” She agreed, after a long silence between us.

“And you don’t need complicated in your life, do you?” I asked.

“No.” she said, without any hesitation.

“No?  Or hell no?” I asked, smiling.

Marie gave a soft laugh at something she must have found funny.

“Hell no.” she whispered, agreeing with me and using her fist to wipe her eye.  

“Hell no, I don’t need complicated in my life right now.  I’ve got too much that’s way too complicated in my life right now and I don’t need any more damn complications, thank you.”

I looked into her eyes, water logged whiskey brown eyes.

“Am I a complication?” I asked her.

She seemed to think that over, longer than I was comfortable with.

“No." she said.

"No?  Or not yet?"

She smiled and nodded.

"Not yet.  You might be.  You could be.  Maybe.” She said, shaking her head then thinking about it more.

Right then I was really starting to dislike the word “complicated” especially how she was using it and how often she was using it.

“So … How complicated are we talking about?” I asked, trying to get … something … from her.

“Like I said … really complicated.” She said, apparently trying to leave it at that.

“More than I can imagine.”

Marie threw her head back into the seat and gave a mock laugh, a hollow mock laugh while closing her eyes.

“Oh!  A lot more than you can imagine.” Marie said.  “Oh, a whole hell of a lot more than you can imagine.”

“That bad, huh?” I mused.

Marie nodded but said nothing; her silence was an answer in and of itself and I felt like I had gotten all I was going to get from prying.

“So it has to be this way … for us.” I asked, mulling over everything that had been laid out.

“It has to be this way  … for me … or there can’t be … what we had … ever again.” she said in a whisper.

Silence.

“You mean what we have."

Marie looked up at me then.

Whiskey brown eyes.

Wet.

Sad.

"I'm not giving up on you, Marie, no matter how complicated what we have might be.” I said as I turned to look at her and put a hand on her shoulder.

Marie looked like she suddenly collapsed but it was just a frantic move to drop sideways and fall limp back across the center console of the Rally Sport. She put her arms through my arm and gripped my arm tighter, really tight and put her head into the crook of my neck, like she was trying to hide from something … like something was after her and I was the only thing in the world that could save her.  She literally fell across the center console and into me.  She said nothing, just put herself into me and held me tight, really tight.   I didn't hesitate ... my arms came up around her, moved up and down her and then pulled her into me even tighter.  I held her like I'd never held anyone else in my life and I held her like I wanted her to know that I'd never let her go no matter what.

"I'm not giving up on you." I whispered.

... and that's when the water works began.

I could feel her body shaking there in my arms, I could feel her crying more than I could hear her crying.  I sighed, softly, to myself, and leaned back into the driver’s seat, pulling her tight to me.  This was another release for her, a different kind of release and like a few hours before I just held her close and let her ride it out on her own.  I felt her tears … warm then cold, soak through my shirt.  I heard her sniffles almost as an after effect.  I felt her body heave, her breath come in sniffs and sniffles and the sounds she made, not as loud as the sounds she made last night and definitely not happy sounds.  I reached down, held her, kissed her on top of her head, put my head to her head and just held her.  Minutes passed like that and neither of us said anything.  Every now and then I heard a sniffle or two but nothing more.  Every now and then Marie would shake slightly and I realized that she was still crying. 

Was there a difference in the layers, the tiers, the levels of a woman's sadness and did that dictate the type of tears that she produced?  Suddenly that was an important question to me ... as important to me as the likelihood that it would never be answered.  

Crying? 

Weeping? 

Was there a difference?

I guess the real difference depended on what she was feeling and what she was going through on whether or not she was actually crying or weeping.  Maybe crying was when you were said and weeping was for when you were happy.  Maybe they were interchangeable.  Maybe you could only weep if you were a girl or a woman or you had all that fancy plumbing inside you and all those strange chemicals running through your body that women had.  I gave up trying to figure it out and just held Marie tight to me.  I let her have the time, all the time that she needed because I felt, somehow I knew, that she needed this as much as she had needed what we had shared last night.  I don't know how I knew that ... just that I knew that.  I sat there, in the driver’s seat, holding her next to me, as "Layla" finally ended, music that seemed somewhat appropriate to what we were sharing.  I was just starting to realize what I had more than willingly gotten myself into but I was still feeling right then, right there that whatever it was that I had gone and gotten myself into that it was worth the trouble ... worth more than the trouble.  A few minutes passed, six minutes if I could match times on the Kenwood. She had been crying for the better part of six minutes ... starting softly, going full blown tears then tapering off back to soft sobs and finally to just her jamming her face into my arm, holding me so tight that the sleeve of my T-shirt was bunched up in both of her hands.  I put my other arm around her, pulled her really tight to me and put my face to the top of her head, breathing her in deeply and holding her.

I kissed the top of her head.

Once.

Twice.

Why did what we had shared have to be complicated?

Why did something like this have to be complicated?

Why did life have to be so damn complicated when it came to being with someone who made you happy and just being with who you wanted to be with?

Life, I had come to realize as of late, was one really fucked up experience and as if to strike home that point Lynyrd Skynrd's "Tuesday's Gone" started to play on the radio.  Another classic favorite of mine and another very long song.  More than half of "Tuesday's Gone" had played out before Marie finally pulled her head out of the crook of my neck, nibbled quickly on my stubbly jaw line and then looked up at me.  Her hand went up to my face, cupping my cheek as she turned my head to look her eye to eye.  Her whiskey brown eyes were red.  Red.  Puffy.  Wet.  Tear tracks down her cheeks.  I reached up, used my finger to slide along her cheek, to wipe her tear track.  She looked like she wanted to say something.  Her lips trembled, she almost spoke and then said nothing.

“What?” I whispered.

“I …  I want to see you again.”

“Are you sure?” I asked.

“I’m sure.” She whispered and there was a confidence to her answer.

“More than anything else in my life right now, if I’m sure of anything then I’m sure of that.  I want to see you again, Christopher.”

“When?” I asked, regretting doing so since I thought it made me sound impatient, maybe even clingy.

She shook her head and shrugged her shoulders, a pouty look of indecision.

“I don’t know.  Soon.  I want to see you again, I really do.  It’s just that I don’t know when I can see you again, Christopher.  All I do know is that I am going to see you again.” She said.

Wow.

Okay.

"You are going to see me again?" I asked, not sure if I'd heard her right.

"I am going to see you again." she said in a broken whisper.

“Promise?” I ask.

Her look said that she simply couldn’t do that and I accepted that for what it was.

“Well, if you can’t promise me that then I guess I’ll just have to trust you.” I said.

“I guess you will at that.”

“Marie …”

She put a finger to my lips, then two fingers, before I could start to speak.

“Don’t ask …  No more questions.  No more answers.  Just trust me.  Okay.  If this is going somewhere then let's just see where it's going.  Please."

I nodded.

"I want this, probably more than anything else right now I want this and it’s the only way this can be, between us, but you have to trust me.  You have to trust me.”

That last part had been almost whispered.  I took a deep breath and looked out across the parking lot again.  Just holding her there, in my car, in the early morning quiet of the almost empty parking lot … that was something that I didn’t want to stop doing.  Ever.  There was something about this woman, something mysterious, something sensual, something strange, something that I’d never had before with anyone else and it was that something that I craved like a starving man at an all you can eat buffet.  Lynyrd Skynrd's "Tuesday's Gone" finished playing on the radio, another long ballad filled with blues and regret.  Local commercials started in and I reached forward and turned the Kenwood's volume all the way down.

“What we have … is it going to be worth the trouble that you’re going through … to have it with me?” I asked, still curious about her situation and what she wasn’t telling me and what that might mean I was getting myself involved with.

Marie sighed and seemed to think … think hard.  She wiped her eyes and then her cheeks and still she thought.  After several seconds she nodded.

“Yes."

"You're sure?" I asked.

"I'm sure.  I thought it was worth it when I came here looking for you.  I thought it was worth it last night when I … invited you back to … back to ..."

"Your place?" I asked.

"My place." she whispered.

"Your bed?" I asked, smiling.

"My bed." she said, smiling.  "I certainly thought it was worth it when we were together … all that we’ve shared.  Last night.”

“And this morning?  Right here, right now.  After all that has happened?  Is it still worth it?” I asked.

“Yes.” She said, no hesitation this time, leaning away from me and putting her back to the passenger side door and window, looking at me and crossing her hands in her lap.

“I still think it’s worth it this morning … Maybe even more so now.  Being with you … When I’m here with you … right now ….  It’s worth it.  You’re worth it.  To me.  I really think so.”

“Think so or know so?” I asked.

Marie didn’t answer.  Instead, she reached over, took my head in both of her hands, pulling me to her as she put her lips to mine.  We kissed there, hard, deeply, arms around each other, arched over the center console of the Chevy.  When she finally withdrew, it was with some obvious sadness and regret and I knew then that I’d be seeing Marie again.  I knew that way deep down inside and at that point the question wasn’t “if” so much as “when”.  The answer was, of course, whenever she came back into my life … whenever she could come back into my life.  Right then I realized that being with her wasn’t going to be easy for me either but it was going to be worth it and that being with her was going to pretty much be at her whim no matter how hard I tried to change that or rearrange that aspect of what we had … at least for now it was going to have to be that way.

“What we’ve got … it’s a little more than complicated, isn’t it?” I asked.

“A lot more than you think.” She said.  “Can you live with that?”

“I can live with that.” I said.  “If it means seeing you again, if it means being with you again.  Yeah, I can live with that.  I can live with anything that you throw my way.”

“Good.” She said, letting go of me then getting out of the Camaro Rally Sport and shutting the passenger door behind her.

“Miss Mystery.” I said loudly.

“What?  What did you say?” she asked as she walked around the front of the Camaro Rally Sport to the driver’s side door, leaned over into the Camaro Rally Sport through the open driver’s side window and looked back in at me.

“There’s a song I like … by a band called Black-N-Blue, it’s called Miss Mystery.  You probably never heard of them or heard of the song but you’re "Miss Mystery".  Just like in the song.”

Marie thought about that for a second.

“Do you have that song?”

I nodded.

“You’ll have to play that song for me.”

“Now?” I asked.

“Next time.” Marie said, looking down at her watch and making a face.

“I’ve got to go.”

“Yeah.  I’ll play it for you.  Next time.”

“Promise?” she asked.

“Promise.” I said.

She stood there … almost ethereal in the hazy early morning light.  

A goddess of lore and mythology made manifest, mist and sunlight.  

Bewitching.

“When do you work again?” she asked, looking from County Market to me.

I thought about my schedule and the week to come.

“I think I’m working again Monday night then Thursday and Friday nights.  Pretty much the same as last week.”

“Three nights this week.” She whispered, almost like I’d just given her three chances, three options to choose from which I guess I just might have.

“Yeah.  Tell me about it.” I agreed.  “Three nights makes for three long days.”

“School?” she asked.

“School and ... all.

She nodded and stepped back and I stepped out of the Rally Sport, walked her around to her gold Lincoln, stood in front of her and took her in my arms for what I felt, what I somehow knew was the last time then and possibly for a while.  She didn’t resist, in fact, she stepped into me.  Her mouth and tongue found mine.  My arms went around her and I kissed her back, long, hard, deep, letting my hands roam across her back.  It felt like a last kiss and as soon as we moved apart I immediately wanted her in my arms, close to me again.  Her look said that she felt the same way, maybe even more so than I did.  When I broke our kiss off I reached into my pocket and dug out the sales receipt for the car magazine from the night before.  I reached over into my Rally Sport, found a pen and wrote my phone number down on the sales receipt.

“Look.  Here’s my private number.  I still live with my parents but I’ve got a private line in my bedroom.  Call me if you want to talk or to, you know, meet up somewhere to get something to eat or go out or ...” I said, wincing because it sounded corny but I really wanted to see her again.

Marie looked at the piece of paper that I'd given her, silently mouthing the numbers to herself.

“You know … Call me.  If you want to.  If you need to.  If you can.  When you can.  If nothing else than just to talk … just to hear your voice.  I’d like that.  If I can’t see you … I’d like to hear you … hear your voice.” I said, almost wincing at how corny, how almost begging that sounded.

Marie smiled, took the slip of paper from my fingers and leaned forward to give me another quick kiss.  We said goodbye and I leaned on the roof of Rally Sport, arms crossed, chin resting on my arms as I watched her start her big gold Lincoln and drive out of the parking lot.  She was stopped briefly at the red light at the intersection then she turned left on Highway 49 north and I watched the Lincoln slowly vanish from sight as the last guitar licks from Skynard's "Tuesday's Gone" faded out.

We were playing a game now, her game, by her rules, and only she had a copy of the rules which meant that she could change them anytime that she wanted to and she didn’t have to tell me when or if she had changed them.

Her.

Marie.

My own personal Miss Mystery.

I stood there for a while, trying to wrap my teenage mind around what I had been through in the last eight hours because it wasn’t just a lot, no, it was a hell of a lot to come to grips with.  I looked out across the early morning parking lot of County Market, thankful that I didn’t have to go to school or work today because Marie had worn me out, physically and emotionally.  Last night, the last eight hours now, had been an emotional roller coaster.  Ups and downs and all arounds.  I was sore in places I didn’t think I could be sore in just from being with a woman in bed.  Now, if I couldn’t be with her then all I wanted to be was alone.

For a while.

For a good while.

And I wanted to sleep for a few hours.

Actions have consequences and sometimes those consequences have to be reconciled, when things happen to you then you need time to sort those things out and right now I needed some time to think about all that had happened to me in the last week.  Marie had thrown me for a loop, she had shaken my world up and that was something that I didn’t like happening to me.  I didn’t like not being in control, I didn’t like not knowing everything that I could about someone else and that was something that I was going to have to sort out and the sooner the better.

Right then I honestly didn’t know what I had gotten myself into but I knew that I sure as hell liked it.  I tossed my set of keys lightly in the air, caught them, jumped in the Camaro Rally Sport through the open window without even bothering to open the door and started the motor.  WHSY Rock 104.5 FM was playing Eddie Money’s “I think I’m in love” and I drove out of the parking lot deciding to let the song play out by taking the long way home.  I was late as it was and being a little later wouldn’t make that much more of a difference.



I got home, later than I wanted to get there but not so late that I couldn’t explain away where I’d been and why I’d been there.  My parents were already up, sitting out back on the patio, having their morning coffee and reading the paper.  I sat down at the wrought iron table and talked to them for a while.  They wanted to know where I’d been and what I’d been doing all night.  I didn’t see the need to tell my parents the whole truth so I changed up a few of the details of my story.  In fact, I told them that I’d gone out drinking after work with a college friend from work and that I’d had a little too much to drink at his place and thought it was better if I just spent the night there rather than get back on the road and try to drive home.  When my parents asked who the friend was, I told them just a college guy I worked with and that was good enough for them.

My parents saw the fact that I’d done something smart on top of doing something dumb but that, yes, I’d made the right choice.  Their only anger, limited as it was, was that I hadn’t called them and told them what I was doing.  I apologized and told them not to worry about me.  Time had gotten away from me and by the time I realized how late it was it had been way too late to call them.  Hey, I was a good kid.  I had a good head on my shoulders and I knew what to do and what not to do and so I got out of having spent the night with Marie with little more than a slight look of disapproval at the way that I was leading my young life.  I went back to my bedroom thinking that I had, quite possibly, the coolest damn set of parents in the whole world.


I was tired and had the rest of the day and that night to myself.  I pulled off my harness boots and shirt and lay there on my bed, intending to catch a few more hours of sleep just to top off what little sleep I’d gotten last night and all I could do was think of the night before.

“Oui, et voila.” I muttered, smiling, remembering what Marie had said.

French for ... Yes, there it is. 

Damn.  

She had said that, in French, at her release, held tight in my arms, her body shaking and trembling.  She had said that and then she hadn’t been able to say much of anything for a little while after that.

I reached down and fingered my Saint Christopher medal, just playing with it, sliding it along the gold chain and remembering that it had been in Marie’s hot, wet mouth, that it had been held between her teeth, that her lips had caressed it just hours ago and that shortly after that it had been sandwiched between her chest and mine as we writhed together in her bed, each trying to drive the other into submission and neither willing to yield.

“Not bad for an eighteen year old …” she had said.

“Not bad for an eighteen year old … What the hell did you mean when you said that …?” I mused, remembering her words, repeating them in a whisper.

I thought about those words, mulling them over and wondering just what had she meant by saying that?  I thought and thought and thought and then exhaustion overtook me; my eyes closed and I fell asleep.

My dreams were vivid, short and intense and it didn’t take long to get into them either.

I was in a Sammy Hagar video … 

I was in the music video for his MTV hit “I can’t drive 55” only it wasn’t in California it was in Hattiesburg and it was me, driving a ... black "Bandit" Trans Am balls out and being chased down Highway 49 north by … park rangers from Paul B. Johnson State Park.  I was on the highway and they were all chasing me in their state park trucks and somehow they caught me and hauled me into a courtroom and the judge, dressed in black, was … Marie!  The name plate on the bench said “Gambrell” but it was Marie in the judicial robes!  She even had the little hanging gallows on her desk with the Kenner big headed Han Solo “Star Wars” action figure with the noose around its neck only when I looked at it the head on the Han Solo figure it was my head.

“Not bad for an eighteen year old.” She said, banging her gavel.

Judge Marie pushed a button on the gallows and the Han Solo figure with my head on it dropped down the trap door and swung back and forth as Black-N-Blue’s “Miss Mystery” started playing loudly in the background, the opening guitar riffs synching with the swinging of the toy figure with a deafening intro.

I woke with a start … 

I was in my own bed, in my own bedroom.

Alone.

Marie!

Did all of that happen?

Did any of that happen?

Was Marie real?

Had last night really happened?

I let my heart slow down as I thought about the dream, as I replayed it in my mind.  Something at the back of my mind nagged at me … something that I’d forgotten.

The speeding ticket!

I’d forgotten all about my speeding ticket!  My mind had been on Marie all of the week and the speeding ticket had totally slipped my mind!  

My wallet!  

The ticket was in my wallet!  I quickly pulled my wallet out, looked in past the folding money that I carried and there it was, my speeding ticket from the water park nearly a week ago.

I still hadn’t paid it!

Hell!

I pulled the ticket out, unfolded it and looked it over again … 

There!

Now I remembered!

My birth date was wrong … it was listed as being in 1967 instead of 1969.  The park ranger had mistakenly put me down as being two years older than I really was which would have made me eighteen years old as far as anyone reading the ticket was concerned.

Eighteen years old … as far as anyone reading the ticket … was concerned.

And then it hit me!

Marie had been handed my ticket by mistake so she probably read over it trying to find out what she was being charged with, how much she was going to have to pay … she had seen the wrong name on the ticket, seen the type of car on the ticket, and realized the ticket was meant for me instead … the guy in the red Camaro Rally Sport parked next to her, the guy that had been paying her attention and who she had been preening for and that’s when she had probably started looking at the details.

Name (that’s how she knew my name and I didn’t know hers …).

Date of birth … June 1967.

Wrong, but that’s what she had to work with.  Okay, figure out the age … June 1967 to March 1986, two years earlier meant two years later ... sixteen plus two ...  Wow!  Eighteen years!  Actually almost nineteen years old, three months shy, but according to the ticket I was an eighteen year old!

Marie must have looked at the ticket, seen my date of birth and thought that I was an eighteen year old.  Most eighteen year olds living in Hattiesburg were college students, either at USM or at one of the surrounding area junior colleges.  Paul B. Johnson State Park was full of college kids looking for a good time.

Oh, man!

Ha!

Wow!

Okay.  So if I was right about this then Marie thought that I was eighteen years old because that dickhead ranger had made a stupid mistake writing my birth date on the ticket!  When she had become interested in me, when she had snooped around my ticket for who I was, what my name was, where I lived, how old I was … she couldn’t have known about the ranger’s mistake because even though the ranger had given her the wrong ticket she had given her the correct driver’s license.  All that Marie knew about me was what she had read about me on my ticket and some of that information was wrong, accidentally wrong, but she had no way of knowing that.

Wow.

I lay there, smiling at how things had come together in just the right way.  So, Marie thought that I was an eighteen year old due to her being curious about me and a simple clerical error on the ranger’s part …

That was great!

I lay back on the bed, smiling at how strangely everything had worked out to bring me to this exact moment in time.  Yeah, Marie may have been looking for something that day and she may have thought that she had found it in me when the female ranger handed her my speeding ticket by mistake.

And then there was the other side of the situation.  What would happen if Marie found out that I wasn’t eighteen years old?  What would she do if she found out I was just some kid, just a junior in high school instead of a freshman at college?  I had a pretty good idea what she would do … and I didn’t like that idea because I liked the idea of being with Marie.

If I wanted to have more of what I had with Marie last night then there was no way that she could find out that I was just sixteen instead of eighteen.  If Marie was going to keep a few secrets to herself then I felt that I was surely entitled to keep a secret of my very own, just one secret, and that’s exactly what I planned on doing, especially if it meant that I could keep on seeing her like I had seen her last night.  Yeah, if Marie needed an eighteen year old in her life right now then I could play that part no problem.  After all, if last night had been the audition for the part that I was supposed to play then I think I had just been chosen for the leading role in whatever bit of drama she was scripting.  The only thing I could hope for was a happy ending to whatever story she was letting me in on one chapter at a time.

“Not bad for an eighteen year old.” I said softly, chuckling.

If she only knew …

She.

Marie.

I checked my wallet ... both of my condoms were gone ... so it wasn't a dream.

No.

I could still smell her on my t-shirt.  

Whiskey and flowers.

Her natural scent.

Her.

Marie.

I drank her in.

Last night had happened.

The clock said it was 1:28 PM.  

I got comfortable and fell back asleep thinking of Marie, smelling her scent, thinking about her, thinking about the last week, thinking about last night, holding an extra pillow close to me and imaging that it was her there in my arms.

I woke up at 4:15 PM, got a shower, visited with my parents then went back out for the night.  I cruised Hattiesburg, listening to heavy metal on the Kenwood stereo system and then went to Cloverleaf Mall and hit my usual haunts; Bookland and Camelot Music.  I bought the latest issue of “Heavy Metal” magazine, “Terminal Road”; the eighth and latest post-apocalyptic “Traveller” paperback by D. B. Drumm, and “Seven Days in Sammystown”; the cassette album by the New Wave band “Wall of Voodoo” mainly because it had the single “Far Side of Crazy” on it.  I drove around Hattiesburg after that, listening to that entire album, twice, on the Kenwood and just sponging to “Far Side of Crazy” in particular.  “Faded Love” and “Don’t Spill My Courage” were pretty decent songs as well, the first one strangely enough reminding me of Pam but not reminding me of Pam near enough as The Replacements’ song “Miss Mascara” did from their recent album “Tim”.

I played “Miss Mascaracara a few times while just riding around Hattiesburg.  

Listening to that one song in particular, over and over, seemed to help me get my thoughts in order.

Two weeks without Marie had me thinking about her all day, every day.  

What we had shared … 

I hadn’t talked about that with anyone else, not even with any of my friends at school, certainly not with any of my coworkers and especially not with Rick.  What Marie and I had shared just seemed like it was something private, something special shared between the two of us and no one else, something better left not talked about.  Two weeks without hearing anything from her and I was starting to worry, to have second thoughts and to doubt her intentions but when I pulled into the parking lot of County Market that Friday afternoon and saw the big gold Lincoln parked in the spot next to the usual spot where I always parked my Camaro Rally Sport and my heart skipped a beat.  Marie had actually shown up before I went to work and was waiting there for me in the parking lot.

She was here!

Marie was here!

That was either good … or really, really bad.

Right then I didn’t know if I should be happy to see her or really scared that she was here, waiting on me.  The way I saw it she was either here to see me again or she was here to tell me that whatever we had shared had been some kind of mistake and that what we had was over and done with before it had even had a chance to really get good.  With some concern I parked my Camaro Rally Sport next to her gold Lincoln, stuck my red bowtie and my employee name tag in my left shirt pocket and stepped out of the car, prepared for the worst.

My heart was racing right along with my mind.  I hadn’t felt like this since I’d caught Pam cheating on me and sneaking back to her dorm that morning.  Marie must have seen me pull up because she was already out of her gold Lincoln, moving around the front of it and walking quickly towards me.  I started to say something but she moved right up against me, put her arms around me and her head against my left shoulder.  I slid my arms around her and she squeezed me tight, holding me … just holding me.  I gripped her tight as well.  Her perfume was strong and I drank in her smell deeply, burying my face and nose in the top of her head as she in turn buried her face and head into my chest.

A good minute passed as we stood there, wrapped in each other’s arms, saying nothing … just holding onto each other.

Silence.

“Hi.” I finally whispered, nuzzling my face against her long hair.

“Hi.” She whispered back, smiling but still not moving.

I squeezed her tighter, like I'd just been given something that I never thought that I'd ever have again, like I'd been given a second chance and I guess that I had.

“I missed you.” I said, still holding her.

She said nothing, only squeezed me tighter in her arms and pulled herself harder into me.  Her grip on me only tightened and I heard her sigh as she rubbed her cheek against my chest, nuzzling me, like a cat.

“I guess you missed me as well.” I whispered.

She gave a little noise that sounded a lot like “uh-huh” but was muffled because her face was buried.  We stayed that way for a minute or two, just holding each other and slightly swaying.  Time became irrelevant to me when I had Marie in my arms.  Marie finally looked up at me, whiskey brown eyes, but she still didn’t say anything.

“How did you know …?” I asked.

“I stopped by Tuesday and asked one of the guys working here when you worked next and he told me.  So … here I am.  I even got the time right this time, didn't I?”

Behind me came the sound of tires on pavement as Pam pulled her faded gold ’78 Chevy Monte Carlo into the parking lot.  Pam drove past us, staring at me and Marie as we held each other there by my Camaro Rally Sport.  Pam had a look of disdain on her face and she quickly turned her head and drove her car on down the hill.  I watched her out of the corner of my eye as she parked on the side of the store where she always did, where Marie had parked her gold Lincoln and left it Friday night before last and where Marie and I had said goodbye the last time that morning after.

Pam was working the same shift that I was, four to ten, and she stared at Marie and me again as she got out of her car.  What was Pam’s problem?  Sometimes it felt like she was wanting both Ingo and me and then sometimes it was like if she couldn’t have me then nobody could have me but at the same time she could have Ingo all to herself.  My misery seemed to be something that she desired in some weird way and even though it was over between us, even though there could never be anything between us anymore I still felt that she hadn’t let go all the way … Sometimes it felt like this was some kind of perverse game that she was playing with Ingo and me only he wasn’t smart enough to see what she was doing and I wasn’t wanting to play by her rules anymore.  I watched Pam go on inside the store and I looked at my watch … five till four.

I still had a few minutes to burn with Marie.  Not many, but a few.

We stood there on top of the hill, still holding each other, still whispering to each other, well after Pam had gone on inside the store.  Marie had noticed the way that Pam had looked at me, at us, and she asked what Pam’s problem was in some not so nice questioning.  I gave her the quick rundown of my history with Pam, the thirty second rundown.

“You dated … her?” Marie asked her voice loud for the first time.

“If you want to call it that.  She left her boyfriend for me and we dated until she cheated on me with her boyfriend and then she ran back to him.  It was … complicated.”

Marie laughed.

“It sounds ... retarded.” She said, running her hand up my chest.

“Well, I guess that’s as good a word as any to describe it.  Maybe there’s even a fine line between something being complicated and something being retarded.”

"Maybe not so much a fine line as a dotted line as in "cut here" ..." Marie said as she laughed again.

“Anyway … It was a mistake is what it really was.” I said looking down the hill across the parking lot and at Pam’s faded gold '78 Chevy Monte Carlo. 

“I was stupid.  I learned a lesson the hard way and now it’s over.”

“Are you sure?” Marie asked, fingering the row of buttons on my shirt and then using one finger to turn my chin to look at her.

“Am I sure that I was stupid or am I sure that it’s over.”

Marie smiled.

“Oh, there’s no doubt that it was stupid.  What I’m wanting to know is if you’re sure that it’s over?”

“I’m sure.  As far as I’m concerned it’s over.  As far as she’s concerned?  I could care less.”

Marie looked at me, eye to eye and her expression took on a serious look.

“So, I don’t have to worry about you and her?  I don’t have to worry about, you know, you two getting back together?” Marie asked, cutting her eyes at me and running her finger across the hairs of my exposed chest where she had pulled my shirt open.

I laughed out loud at the idea, especially now that I’d had some experience with both women.

“That is one thing that you most certainly do not have to worry about.  No regrets and no second chances there.  No second chances.  Not for her.  Not for anyone.  Ever again.”

“That bad, huh?” Marie asked.

“Trust me.  She wasn’t worth the time that I spent with her.”

“Am I?” Marie asked.

“What?” I asked.

“Am I?” she asked again.

“Are you ... what?” I asked, still not sure what she was getting at.

Marie sighed.

“Am I worth the time you’ve spent with me?”

I pulled her tight.

“No regrets so far other than it’s been a while.  Too long between being able to see you.” I said.

“Couldn’t be helped.” She said.

“You’re here, now.  That's what matters.”

Marie smiled, slowly unbuttoned the next two buttons of my white work shirt and opened my shirt with her spread fingers and hand, moving the button down collar away from my neck and moving closer to me with her lips.

“What are you doing?” I asked her, softly, feeling goose bumps rise on my skin even in the warm afternoon air.

“I want to give you … something.” She whispered in my ear.

“Something?” I asked.

“Uh huh.  Just … a … little … something.”

The way that she whispered that in my ear, her teeth nibbling on my ear lobe, her hot breath on my neck as her hand fully went into my open shirt and rubbed her palm across my right breast and nipple, her fingers moving through my chest hair.  Desire awoke and rose in me at her touch, stiffening, and I think she felt it as it did because she gave a low growl and moved her body still closer to mine, rubbing slightly up and down as she did, putting her weight against me and pinning me against my own car.

What was she going to give me?

Here?

In the parking lot?

In front of all of these people?

My mind raced with possibilities and screamed at potential consequences.  I had minutes, maybe less, to walk down the hill, across the parking lot, get to office at the front of the store and to clock in but right then I was tempted to just say the hell with it all, get in my Camaro Rally Sport and drive off … somewhere … with Marie.  If she had asked me to do just that then I very well might have … so powerful was the feeling I felt with her there next to me, in my arms, and her lips moving along the side of my neck, my ear, and my cheek. 

She was a drug and I was an addict strung out on her from the first hit.  I held her as she moved against me and I closed my eyes.  There we were, making out in the parking lot of County Market, at the top of the hill where everyone could see.  She had me pinned back against the side of my Rally Sport.  Her hands moved over my chest, slowly, rubbing me.  My hands went along the sides of her head, moving through her long hair as she moved closer and closer to what she wanted.

“What … are you … doing?” I asked her, my own voice coming in ragged whispered fragments.

“I’m giving you something you can show to your ex.” Marie said and I felt her lips on my neck, I felt her suck on my neck, take my skin into her mouth … biting it, hard.

Okay.  That felt kind of … different but different in a good kind of way.

Harder.

Uh.

Harder.

Ouch.

Oh, man, I thought, as Marie bit down harder, sucked, gripped part of my skin in her teeth and yanked.  Yanked hard.

Damn!

Marie really bit down then.  Hard.  Pain shot through me but it was mixed with a kind of tingle that washed it away as soon as it hit.

Son of a bitch!

It felt like she had taken a chunk out of my neck.  Marie pulled back, forcefully turned my head to admire her handiwork and smiled that smile that women smile when they’re faced with one-upping a rival.  Great, I thought as I reached up and rubbed my neck.  I leaned down to look at my neck in the driver’s sideview mirror of the Camaro Rally Sport.  Marie laughed a soft laugh.  Looking at my neck I saw that Marie had given me a … hickey.  Not exactly what I had thought she had in mind but …

Great.

The side of my neck where she had put it was visible even with my collar buttoned and I never wore my collar buttoned when I worked at County Market.

“Let her see that and know just how much of an ex she really is.” Marie said in a tone that suggested that Marie did not like competition, even former competition, for my attention.

“What did you …?”

“I just marked my territory.” Marie said.  “You’re branded, Cowboy.”

She marked her territory?

I was branded?

Whoa!  

Wait! 

Cowboy?

Did she just call me “Cowboy”?

I was her ... Cowboy?

I hoped that I wasn’t smiling as big as I thought I was smiling right then.

“Cowboy?” I asked.

“Cowboy.” She said, smiling.  “You make me think of a Cowboy … if this was a hundred years ago … you’d be a Cowboy.”

“Horse, hat and all?” I asked.

“Horse, hat and all.” She said as she turned and started to walk back towards her gold Lincoln.

I thought about that, smiling, as she started to get back in her Lincoln.

“Hey!”

Marie paused, leaned on the roof of her car and looked at me.

“Hey, what?” she asked, shielding her eyes from the glare.

“I'm going to see you tonight?  After work?” I asked her, rubbing my neck lightly.

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” she asked with a mischievous smile.

“You want me.” I said, feeling a little bit cocky now.

"Wouldn't be here if I didn't, Cowboy." she said, matching cocky for cocky and giving me that same smile she had given me weeks ago at the water park. 

I watched as she slowly got in her big gold Lincoln, started it up and drove away. 

Damn. 

Marie really hadn’t given me an answer and it was going to be a hell of a long shift spent thinking about her.  If I got to see her tonight then I hoped that tonight would be a repeat of what we had shared two weeks ago.  I sighed, took a deep breath, looked around the parking lot and then looked at my watch.

4:03 PM.

Oh, crap!

I was three minutes late for work!

I jogged across the parking lot and into County Market, punched in six minutes late, apologized to my night manager for being late, checked the work schedule to see that I was doing mopping and sweeping for the first hour of my shift so I headed to the back to get the big soft gliding push broom.  As I was walking down the Middle Aisle Pam was walking back towards the registers up front.  We passed on opposite sides of the Middle Aisle and she stared at me.

“Hey.” She said, half-heartedly, almost dejectedly.

I ignored her completely.



Later, sometime after five, Jeanne found me on her break and shared some of her Skittles with me as I was pulling trash and empty cardboard from the displays and shelves on the aisles.  I was tearing a box down into pieces when she walked up and stood there, a sly smile on her face, a bag of Skittles in her hand, and her receipt for the Skittles stuck to the bag with a red “THANK YOU” sticker.

“So … where did you get that strawberry?” she asked, pointing towards my neck.

“What?” I asked.

“That hickey, you know, that strawberry.  There.  On your neck.  Who gave that to you?”

I reached up and touched my neck where Marie had sucked on it out in the parking lot.  I’d almost forgotten about in the last hour because I’d been so busy with sweeping and mopping and now pulling trash.

“Oh.  This?” I asked.

Jeanne nodded.

It was still a little bit tender.

"Just something an old ... girlfriend ... gave me."

“Uh huh.  Pam saw your hickey.  It must have upset her pretty good because she’s mentioned it to me about five times so far in the last hour.” Jeanne said flatly, somewhat annoyed probably because Pam had brought her, again, into what Pam and I had once had.

My hickey upset Pam?  I thought about that and smiled, maybe just a little, but I smiled.  I’d tell Marie about it later.  She’d get a kick out of that bit of insight.

“What has she got to be upset about?  She cheated on me.  She left me.  She’s back with Ingo.  She’s got what she always wanted.”

Jeanne shrugged her shoulders in probably the most nonchalant way that she could.  

“Hey!  Don’t beat the messenger.  All I’m saying is that strawberry there on your neck has got Pam pretty upset.  I was cleaning the registers and Pam started helping me and it wasn’t two minutes before she started in on talking about the hickey there on your neck and asking me if I’d seen it or not.”

“What does she care?” I asked.

Jeanne shrugged her shoulders.

“I mean, seriously, what does she care if I have a hickey or not?”

“I don’t know.  Maybe she cares who put it there ...” Jeanne said as she shrugged her shoulders again.

Jeanne poured some of her Skittles into the palm of her hand and tossed them back into her mouth.

“Maybe she’s never had a hickey before …” Jeanne said softly.

“Yeah, well, I guess the closest thing that Pam’s ever come to getting a hickey from Ingo is that deep tissue bruise he gave her when he hit her in the back with that beer bottle that he threw at her that night she was trying to get away from him.” I said, remembering the events of just a few months ago.

Jeanne wagged a finger at me in a way that politely chastised me to be nice.

“So ...  you're seeing someone now?  When did this happen?” Jeanne asked, holding the bag of Skittles out for me to take some from her as she finished off the few that she had left in her hand.

“About three weeks ago.” I said, leaving it at that as I tore another empty box to pieces and stuffed it down into the shopping car with the already sizeable amount of cardboard pieces that I’d collected.

I’d be heading to the incinerator soon to drop off my trash and make room in my buggy for more cardboard.

Jeanne had that inquisitive look on her face.

“And?” she asked, smiling.

“I met her down at Paul B. Johnson’s while Rick and I were cruising the lake looking for some of his friends.”

I instantly, and I mean instantly regretted saying that because now Jeanne could ask Rick about Marie and I wasn’t sure that what I had was something that I, or Marie for that matter, wanted everyone knowing about and Rick had a big mouth sometimes.  Right then and there I felt that it was just going to be better in the long run if I just didn’t talk about Marie to anyone else, if what Marie and I had was kept more or less just between us … at least until I could figure out just exactly what it was that Marie and I actually did have between us.  Doing that seemed, to me, to be the best way to keep things from getting complicated, as Marie would have said.

“Is that the one that was supposed to show up that night at work when you lost the bet to Rick and had to buy his beer for him?”

Wow.  

That seemed like a long, long time ago now.  

I nodded.  So, Jeanne knew about that as well.  Great.  Rick must be running his mouth big time which meant that could be a problem.

“So your woman finally showed up, huh?”

I nodded.

“She’s a little bit old for you, isn’t she?” Jeanne asked.

I looked up at Jeanne as I tore a cardboard box down and put it flat in the shopping buggy on top of a pile of similar torn down boxes.

“Who said she's old?”

“Rick said she was old ... ”

I didn't answer, merely pulled an empty box off of the shelf and tore it down before dropping it in the growing flat pile of cardboard in the shopping car.

“So … How old is she?" Jeanne asked, eating a few more Skittles.

“Older than me, older than you.” I said as I shrugged my shoulders.

Jeanne smiled then.

“Rick said that you're probably dating someone's mom.  If you are, you know that makes you a home wrecker.”

I shrugged my shoulders.

“Are you wrecking another happy home, Christopher?"

I shrugged my shoulders again.  Lately I'd gotten good at shrugging my shoulders.

"Because if you are then that would make two homes that you’ve wrecked in just the last couple of months.” Jeanne said, leaning up against the shelf and looking down intently at her bag of Skittles.

Wrecking a happy home?

I hadn’t thought about it like that …  When I didn’t reply, Jeanne laughed and started walking away.

“Yep.  I knew it!  You’re wrecking yet another happy home!  Christopher T. Shields.  Professional home wrecker … References available upon request.” She said, laughing and walking off.

That’s when I noticed that she had left the bag of Skittles with me and her sales receipt as well.  The bag was still almost a third of the way full of candy. 

“Thanks!” I shouted as she waved over her shoulder rounding the corner of the aisle and heading back to her register up front.

I helped myself to the few that were left in the bag and turned to watch her go but she was already around the corner of the aisle and headed back to her register and like that I was alone again.

Home wrecker?

Was I really a home wrecker?

Pam and Ingo hadn’t been much of a home to wreck … hell, they weren’t even married!  Pam had been given a promise ring by Ingo, nothing fancy like an engagement ring, just some stupid little metal ring that he had probably gotten out of a coin operated vending machine and she was nuts over having it because it was probably one of the nicest things that she had ever had and it was her golden ticket out of the only life she had waiting for her if she didn’t grab onto Ingo with both hands and hold tight.  Whew.  Say all of that in one breath.  I guess I had busted them up, for a while, but I hadn’t done any home wrecking per se.  Hell, it had been Pam that had wrecked her own home when she had started flirting with me, when she had started coming on to me, when she had cheated with me behind Ingo’s back while he was off for the holidays up in Jackson and when she had broken up with Ingo to be with me.

I hadn’t wrecked that home … it was already wrecked when I came along and it really wasn’t a home, more like two clueless people playing house.  Not much to wreck there.

But with Marie …

Marie …

Suddenly, I wasn’t so sure. 

Suddenly I wasn’t so sure of what I was doing.  After all, Marie had said that what we had was complicated and that if we didn’t play by her rules that it would really get complicated and that was going to go really badly for her, especially for her.  I couldn’t call her, I couldn’t go by her place to see her, to visit with her, to pick her up and take her out …  The way that she said all of that made it sound like she didn’t want what we had to ever get beyond just the two of us.

Our little secret.

But what did I have with Marie?

What did I really have with her?

Miss Mystery.

I reached up and touched the hickey on my neck, rubbing it softly and remembering how it had gotten there as well as the look that Marie had given me when I asked her if I was going to get to see her tonight.  That smile she gave me, that same smile and right then Duran Duran’s “Hungry like the wolf” began playing softly in the back of my mind.

Mouth is alive, juices like wine and I’m hungry like the wolf …

Lodged into the background of the song there was the sound of a woman in ecstasy, whining and moaning in the throes of rising passion.  That song had been okay when it first came on the radio a few years ago, I’d even liked it for a while until I’d burned out on it, but this past week I’d almost worn out my Duran Duran tape listening to that one song over and over again … simply because it reminded me of Marie and the sounds that she had made when we were together.

I was hungry like a wolf for Marie but … was I wrecking a home now?

The truth is that I really didn’t know if I was wrecking a happy home or not or even if I was wrecking an unhappy home or not.  I honestly didn’t know very much at all about Marie and at that point in time I could honestly tell you that I didn’t really care, either.

I’d been with Marie. 

I wanted Marie. 

I’d waited two weeks to see her again, thinking about her every single day and night and now, today, this afternoon before work she had come to see me.  She had come here, again, to see me, again, and that wasn’t because she didn’t want to see me again.

I wanted her and she wanted me.

I wanted Marie, complicated or not, and if I was wrecking a happy home when I was with her then I guess that was something else I’d have to answer for one day.  I hoped that final judgment would be a lot later than sooner when and if I did finally have to answer for all that I’d done in my life so far.  It was my personal belief that the longer you put off final judgment, the more time you had to spend on stacking up forgiveness and redemption or at least that’s how I saw things.  I just wondered how much of a sin Marie was going to be … and how long it would take me to pay off whatever debt of spiritual impropriety it was that she was saddling me with?

If I was lucky, if I was really, really lucky then God graded on a curve.

At least I hoped so.

Time passed slowly that night because my head was filled with thoughts of Marie.

Good thoughts.

Naughty thoughts.

Memories.

I ran into Jeanne again as she was putting out restocks and I ran into Pam again as well.  She asked me which aisle an item was located on and I told her.  She didn't even say "thank you" and that was the total extent of our conversation that night.  I know that we had to work together and that what we had shared certainly complicated things between us but sometimes it just seemed like either she forgot what she had done to me, what she had put me through or she was still holding out that maybe I was an option in her life, like Ingo was the sure bet but if, somehow, he didn’t work out that she could always just bat her eyes at me, shake her ass and come running back and all would be forgiven and I’d take care of her for the rest of her life.

I shuddered involuntarily at that thought.

I looked at my watch.  It was 9:47PM.  I was going around straightening displays and had about an hour and fifteen minutes left before I got off of work.  Ten minutes later I was called to the office for a personal phone call.  I figured it was probably Rick wanting to see if I’d hang with him when I got off work, Rick wanting me to go drinking and cruising with him.

I was wrong.

It was Marie.

Her voice was sultry and she asked me to come on over to her apartment when I got off work.  I told her that I didn’t have a problem with that.  She then asked me if I remembered how to get there and I told her that I did.  I told her that I would be there as soon as I could after eleven but sometimes I had to stay late if they needed me to.  She told me to hurry if I could because she had a surprise for me.  I hung up and went back to work with the biggest smile on my face.

Ten o’clock rolled around and I didn’t have to stay late or help put out restock with the night crew and for that I was glad.  I gathered up the last of the shopping carts in the parking lot, punched out and left … passing Ingo sitting there in his beat up old Capri as he stared at the front entrance of County Market, leering, waiting on Pam to get off work.  He turned to stare at me as I walked past and for a change I decided to make eye contact with him.  His stare was blank as his eyes tracked me and his head slowly panned to follow.  Ingo had all the charisma of someone who had been embalmed and he could be a real creepy kind of guy if you let him get to you which I didn’t.  Ingo didn’t scare me, he just kind of creeped me out in that way that made me want to walk up to him and beat on him, especially for how he had treated Pam while she was with me … for how he was probably still treating Pam now that she was back with him.

I smiled at him then, a big smile, because I knew that I could do just that if I wanted to; to be as old as he was Ingo was a wimp.  Hell, I was surprised that he even liked girls but then I guess he needed Pam to pick out which clothes he was going to wear for the day and to help him get dressed in the morning since his mother was way up in Jackson and not around to do that for him anymore.  I also smiled because I knew that whatever he might be thinking he was going to be getting into that night with Pam, well, I’d had the same thing from Pam that he was going to be getting and it wasn’t anything to brag about.  In fact, in hindsight, it was pretty forgettable and if that was the best that he’d ever had, if that was the best he was ever going to get then his life was already a living hell that I didn’t envy.

Ingo could have Pam.

I didn’t have to get revenge on Ingo or Pam for what they had put me through the last few months, no … letting them get back together and be together was better than any revenge I ever could have come up with let alone implemented on my own and the thought of that … the realization of that tiny bit of truth … put a little extra spring in my step and a smile to my face as I walked up the hill of the parking lot to where my ’78 Camaro sat parked.

Maybe Ingo would get Pam pregnant.

Oh, that thought brought a smile to my face because if he ever got her pregnant then his life was fucked with a capital "F".


I drove my Camaro Rally Sport home, changed out of my dirty work clothes into some clean casual clothes, freshened up, threw on some English Leather cologne, brushed my teeth and told my parents that I was going to be out all night.  After the five minute interrogation my parents let me go, somewhat reluctantly, with the promise not to do anything stupid.  When they asked who I was going out with, I told them I was hanging out with a college friend from work and that I might not be home until late tomorrow morning.  I told my parents we were going to pull an all-nighter with some videos and pizza and to add emphasis to my charade I called ahead from my house to Pizza Hut to place an order for a large, thin and crispy pepperoni and Italian sausage pizza.  Ten minutes later I was backing my Rally Sport out of my parents’ driveway and headed to pick up the pizza.

This time was going to be different.  This time I’d set it up where I didn’t have to be back at the crack of dawn.  This time I had all the time in the world with Marie that I possibly could want and if it worked out that I could spend the night with her then I was going to spend the whole night with her.  I'd wake up with her in the morning, in her bed, and not have to worry about getting home early or taking her to pick up her car.  This time I padded the logistics in my favor.  The Pizza Hut I called my order into was literally within walking distance of Marie’s apartment, in fact you could even see the red roof of the restaurant from her apartment’s front door.  I picked up the pizza and a two liter of Coke at a little after 10:30.  I was hungry … no, I was starving.  I hadn’t had anything to eat since noon and I figured Marie might be hungry as well this late at night.  After all, a handful of Skittles would only go so far in saving you from starvation.


10:47 PM.  I knocked on the door and held the pizza in both hands.  I waited.  The locks were undone and the door was opened just enough that Marie could look out at me from behind the door, safe with the chain on it.  Her long hair was done up on top of her head, nicely, not hastily.  She had spent some time doing that.  I could imagine the effort she had put into it and I wondered why?

Was that effort for me or had she been somewhere else?

With someone else?

“Delivery?” she asked, smiling and obviously amused.

“I’m hungry.” I said.  “I haven’t eaten anything since noon so I thought I’d pick up a pizza on the way over.  I got enough to share.”

“What kind?” she asked.

“Pepperoni and sausage.” I said.  “Large.  Thin and crispy.  My usual.  Nothing special.”

Marie took a sniff at the door then seemed to cut her eyes at me.

“You put on cologne.” She said.

“I changed clothes too.  Went home after work and got all handsomed up to see you.”

“You got all handsomed up?” Marie asked, smiling.

“Yes, ma’am.  I handsome up real good when I put a mind to it.” I said, smiling.

Marie laughed.

“Well, I suppose you can come on in.” She said in a sultry voice.

She undid the chain from the door, opened it then invited me in.  I walked on in, past her still standing behind the door and I stepped on through into the apartment as she shut the door behind me.  I wasn’t expecting to see what I did when I turned around ...

There was Marie, wearing this strapless black dress that barely touched the top of her knees.  She wore black high heels, black stockings and with her long hair done up on top of her head she looked like she was going for a long night at some high end social gathering.  She stood there with her arms behind her, her hands flat against the wall and her bottom resting against her hands.  My eyes roamed up and down her body as she crossed her legs, looked up at me and smiled.

That smile.

That same smile.

Was it practiced?

Was it natural?

It was so enticing …

“Oui.  Et voila.” I said, smiling.

“Oui.  Et voila.” Marie said, saying the phrase much better than I had said it while drawing her hands across her body and then out as if presenting herself to me.

“Is that … my surprise?” I asked.

She nodded.

“Good surprise?” she asked.

I nodded probably more enthusiastically than I should have then remembered that I was holding a hot pizza.

“Uh … I brought pizza.” I said, holding the pizza box out in front of me for her to see.

“Uh huh.” Marie said.  “I can see that.”

“And you, uh, brought ... that.  Dress.”

“Uh huh.”

"Black.  Dress."

"Uh huh."

“And … uh … matching lingerie.” I said, looking at her stockings.

“As far as you know.” Marie said, nodding and smiling.

That smile.

She was not playing fair.

“Matching lingerie?” I asked her.

“Well, you might just have to have a look for yourself to be sure.” She said, reaching down and lifting her dress just a bit to show me that her stockings really were thigh highs.

“Uh, you’re not playing fair.” I said, pointing a finger at her accusingly.  “You’re really not playing fair at all dressed like that.”

“Turn-about is fair play.” She replied.

"Not if you cheat when you play." I said.

"All's fair ..."  she cooed.

“I guess you win.” I said.

“Oh, no.  I'm not letting you give up that easy.”

“I know when I'm beat.  It’s hard to compete with that when I’m wearing … this.” I said, pointing out just how casual I had come dressed to her place.

“Well, the night is still young.” Marie said.  “There’s still time for you to catch up, that is, if you’re really keeping score.”

“And you say that I don’t play fair …” I mused.

“You don’t play fair, Cowboy.”

“Yeah … but …”

“But …” she said, mocking.

“Wow.  That dress and all … that … just … wow.”

“So … How do you like it?” she asked, turning slowly to the left and then to the right.

“I … I like it.  A lot.  I like it a lot.” I stammered, unable to take my eyes off of her.

Marie turned slowly in place for me, showing me her dress and her body from all angles.

“You’re beautiful.  You are really … just … beautiful.  That dress really …” I whispered.

She blushed.

“That dress really makes you stand out …”

Marie gave a sudden look of concern.

“Makes me stand out?!” she chided, cutting her eyes at me but not in that good way that she sometimes cut her eyes at me.

“Uh, yeah.  Stand out.  I mean … In a good way!” I quickly added.  “That dress really makes me want to look at you … wherever you are in a room.  That dress really draws my attention.  Commands it, actually.  Hell, I can’t take my eyes off of you right now.  If you were in a room full of women you'd be the only one I'd be looking at and I wouldn't be able to help myself.  You're ... mesmerizing.”

Marie relaxed and smiled.  I even think she blushed, a little.

"Mesmerizing?" she asked.

"Mesmerizing.  Captivating.  Enticing."

Yeah, she was definitely blushing now.

“Wow.” I whispered.

“But … Do you like it?” she asked.

I nodded.

“Well, what about this?” she asked, reaching behind her back and slowly unzipping her dress.

I would have said “what?” out loud except that I was rendered totally speechless by what she was doing.  All I could do was watch her and hope that my mouth wasn’t hanging open like some slack jawed yokel farmer who had just seen a UFO buzz his herd of cows.  The soft whirr of the zipper barely carried the distance.  She put her arms over her head, wiggled once, twice and the dress fell slowly to the floor, bunching up around her ankles. 

Oh.

My.

God!

She really was wearing matching lingerie!

Marie was wearing black high heels, black thigh highs, a black garter belt, black panties and a black bra. Around her neck was some black beaded necklace that tied the whole ensemble together rather nicely.  Silence as my eyes drank her in and she let me take my time doing it, slowly turning in place again, rubbing her hand across her bra, down her bare stomach and across her panties, pulling the side of her panties down slightly on her hip then slipping down to her thigh highs and running a finger through the band there.  I could see just the bare wisp of a few dark pubic curls peeking out from the top of her panties when she slid the elastic down, teasing.  I was mesmerized and completely under her spell. 

The way her breasts filled the cups of her bra. 

The way her panties curved her over bottom. 

That little open space between the inside of her thighs, just below the inverted mound of her nature. 

Taking her all in I guess I had to add another notation to the “firsts” part of the diary of my life.  It was like a Victoria’s Secret ad had come to life in front of me.  Marie was acting like a naughty pinup girl, like an image you’d find on the nose art of a World War II fighter plane or bomber.

“How about this?  Is this a better surprise?” she asked.

I was truly speechless and I felt my desire for her start to awaken.

“I didn’t know if you would like the lacey stuff or not …” she mused.  “I haven’t worn this in a … long time … I wasn’t sure I could find all the pieces but I thought I might surprise you and wear this.  Tonight.  Just to wear it again … just to see your expression.”

I looked her over, top to bottom and back to top, standing there, me holding the pizza box and probably gawking.  In fact, I was lucky that I was still holding the pizza box and that it wasn’t on the floor at my feet, dropped due to shock and amazement.

And then her look changed.  She frowned and quickly lowered her head.

“Sorry.” She said at last, slipping out of her self-petting and preening.  “I’m sorry.  Look … this is … This was silly of me to do this.  I don’t know what I was thinking …  I shouldn’t have …”

She hurriedly reached down and picked up her dress, slid it back up and started to put it back on.  Her look said she was embarrassed … or ashamed.

No!

No!!

No!!!

I quickly stepped forward and put the pizza down.  When I reached out to touch her, she looked down and almost moved away from me.  I took her in my arms and held her tight.  Her perfume was intoxicating, as was the smell of her long hair.  I rubbed my hands over her bare back, softly, slowly.

“I like lacey stuff.” I whispered.  “Black’s my favorite color.  I don’t even know why they make this stuff in white or pink or any other color, I’d never ask you to wear anything but what you’re wearing right now … if you’d wear it just for me.”

I felt her nod her head against me but she didn’t say anything.  I held her like that, just rubbing her softly, holding her.  She smelled so good.

“This isn’t how it was supposed to go.” She said.  “I’m screwing this up.  I am really screwing this up.”

“No.  No, you’re not.” I said softly.

“Yes, I am.”

“No, you’re not.”

“I haven’t worn this stuff in … God.  I can’t remember.” She whispered.  “I don’t even know why I wore it tonight …”

“You’re wearing it now.” I whispered, not really knowing what else to say and feeling that was about the best thing that I could say.

“I just wanted to feel … I don’t know … wanted … again.” She said, shrugging, exasperated, trying to find the right words to say.

I held her tight and put my face into her long hair, kissing her on top of her head.

“You’re beautiful.  Wearing this makes me want to be with you.  Wearing this makes me want you; it makes me want you even more than I thought I could want you.”

She nodded her head against me.  I held her for a little while longer and then whispered that the pizza was going to get cold. She gave a forced laugh and stepped away from me.

“Well, so much for a shoulder to lean on.” She said.  “Even pizza wins out over me.”

“Marie …”

“No.  Go ahead and eat.” She said.  “I’m going to go to the back and change out of this silly stuff …”

“No.” I said firmly and loudly.

“What?” she asked, shocked … surprised.

I realized that I had to stop her from taking all of that off.  I had to remove any doubt she had as to how much I liked what she had done and how much I appreciated her effort.

“No, you’re not changing out of any of that!” I said and she stopped, looked at me, one arm at her side and the other across her breasts holding the other arm.

“Why?  It’s silly.”

“It’s not silly.”

“Yes it is.  This was just … silly.  Dressing up like this ...” She said, starting to get defensive and withdrawn.

“It’s not silly.  You said that you wanted to feel wanted, to feel needed but wearing that makes me feel wanted … it makes me feel needed … by you.  When you wear that, you make me feel special.  You make me feel special that you went to the effort to fix yourself up for me like that.”

She didn’t ask it but her eyes asked “you do?”

“Is that my surprise?” I asked her.

Marie nodded.

“That matching lingerie really …” I trailed off, unsure of what words to use.

“What?” she asked.

“That lingerie really makes me … happy.” I said, cringing at the word that I chose and feeling that it was so inadequate.

“What you’re wearing … it just makes me want you even more … and I didn’t think that I could want you any more than I do right now but I do.  I want you more than I’ve ever wanted you before.  Marie, you’re beautiful but that … all of that makes you just … magic to my eyes.  You’re bewitching and wearing that puts a spell on me.” I added and thought that sounded not only inadequate but pretty bad as well.

And just when I thought that I was really screwing things up … she smiled.  She smiled and she blushed.  I took that for what it was so I pressed what little I had to work with.

“So … I have to keep on wearing this?” she asked coyly.

“Yes, you do.  In fact, you have to eat pizza wearing that.” I said, pointing at her lingerie.

“Oh, I do, do I?” she asked, putting on a pouty face and putting her hands on her hips.

“Yes, ma’am, you do.”

“And then what?” she asked, smiling a little, being demure.

“And then I’m going to take my time letting you know just how beautiful and how magical and how bewitching you really are by slowly running my fingers and hands over every square inch of that lace and lingerie.”

Marie cut her eyes at me seductively.

“Come here.” She said extending her finger and beckoned to me.

“I’ve got pizza.” I said.

“I’ve got something better than pizza.” and she didn’t need to tell me twice.

I went to her, took her in my arms and held her tight, pulling her in tight to me.  I ran my hands up and down her back, her arms and grabbed her long hair, pulling hard so that I could force her head to the position that I wanted, a position that let me get at her shoulders, neck, and cheek.  It was just like this afternoon only she had a lot less clothing on and I had all the time in the world to be with her.  I buried my face in her neck, kissing and nibbling.  She sighed and panted, running her hands up my back, over my head, holding me tight, trying to climb me.  Our lips met, parted, our tongues found each other and we kissed deep, long, hot.

“You’re giving me a fever.  You know that, don’t you?” She said.

“I tend to have that effect on you lately.” I said.

"Yes, you do." she whispered.

I reached down with my right hand and started running it up the inside of her thigh.  She spread her legs slightly in anticipation and I reached between her thighs, to her groin, to her panty covered nature and gently cupped her there.  She was running a fever.  I could feel it through her black panties with the tips of my fingers.

Soft.

Hot.

Swollen.

Damp.

When I didn’t do anything other than cup her there she started writhing in my arms under my attentions, grinding her groin against my hand and making little whimpering noises.  I cupped her, held her to me, and continued to work her neck and shoulders before I moved over to her lips and mouth.

Hot breath.

Short breaths.

Almost panting.

Her thighs squeezed tight around my hand as she slowly ground her groin against me and moaned softly.  She moved her body up and down against mine like she was slowly trying to climb me.  My lips touched hers, warm, wet. I pushed my tongue past her lips into her mouth, found her tongue again and kissed her deep and long.  When I withdrew I put my head next to hers and just held her there, like that, two as one.  After we broke our kiss I don’t know who was the more out of breath, me or her.

“God, I really missed you.” She whispered. 

“I really missed you, too.” I whispered in her ear as I slowly pulled my hand out of her crotch and nibbled on her ear lobe one more time.

She sighed deeply, turned her head to meet mine and molded herself to me.

“Prove it to me.”

“Now?” I asked.

“Now.” She whispered in my ear.

So I did.

Pizza and Maslow be damned, some things just took precedence over basic survival and Marie, in lingerie, telling me to take her now was one of those things.  We skipped the foreplay which for us meant that we bypassed the whiskey and all the small talk and we just dove into each other.  When she was finished with me she had left a pile of discarded clothes, mostly mine, on the floor leading all the way across the living room to the master bedroom … the pizza forgotten where I had set it down on the coffee table. 

Duran Duran's song kept playing softly in my mind.  Our mouths were alive, her juices were like wine and I was hungry like a wolf … but not for pizza.

I took my time with her; the lingerie was like a set of boundaries that I explored with my fingers, lips and tongue, slowly, teasing her.  True to my word I showed her how much I appreciated her lingerie and her choice to wear it for me.  I showed her how much it meant to me that she had put that much effort into surprising me and fixing herself up for me.  It had been two weeks since my bare skin had last touched Marie’s bare skin and we made up for lost time.  We threw ourselves into each other, losing ourselves completely.  Once again it was primal and bestial; it started desperately, built to a fervent hedonistic act then worked itself into its own groove until finally ending.  The sounds she made, the words she uttered in teeth clenched whispers, the feel of her wrapped around me, of her gripping me, of her nature around mine, of her legs across my legs, her stockings against my bare legs.

The feel of her using my shoulders and her legs to rise off of me as I lay there, to rise and fall, to never miss her mark, the feel of her heart shaped bottom slamming down against my bare thighs, her arching her back, her long hair falling behind her, her eyes closed, her mouth open, sometimes grimaced, sometimes pursed, and her breasts bouncing in front of me with each rise and fall.  She would pause sometimes, sitting there on top of me, running her hands through her long hair, sometimes running her hands over her breasts, shaking slightly, shuddering sometimes, sometimes saying something that I could barely understand and then she would start the rhythm over again … taking up the slack and picking up where she had left off. 

The sound of skin on skin.

Her whispers, her mutterings ... too low for me to understand what she was saying.

Like she was invoking some kind of incantation.

It was like she was casting a spell.

There are things that once a man experiences them that he will remember these things for the rest of his life and Marie gave me those experiences there in her bed and with those experiences the memories that I would have to cherish.

Afterwards we lay there, holding each other, she still on top of me, my hands slowly sliding up and down her bare back and bottom.  My fingertips gliding over her soft, warm skin.

Spent.

Again.

I rolled, pulled her tight to me, drawing her in to conform to the shape of my body beside her.  She looked at me, put her fingers to my lips and traced my lips.  I kissed her finger and then put my head on the pillow beside her, using my finger to trace the bare skin of her breast, her chest, and her neck line.  She closed her eyes as I drew her lightly and softly, my finger the pencil and her skin the paper.  We stayed that way for several minutes.  I felt her next to me, I could hear her heart beating in her chest, feel the rise and fall of her chest with her breathing.

“What made you dig out the lacey stuff?” I asked, my voice a whisper, tracing my finger across the wide band of her thigh high stockings … the last of her lingerie that she still wore.

“Did you like that?  Was it a good surprise?” she asked.

“Yeah, I liked it.  I really liked it!  That was a really good surprise.”

“Really?” she asked.

“I thought that much was obvious.  I was just curious why you did it.  I mean, I wasn’t expecting that at all.”

She got comfortable next to me.

“That’s why I did it and … because I could. I wanted to surprise you.  I wanted to do something nice for you, something special because maybe I needed to feel sexy and pretty and wanted again.”

“Needed or wanted?”

“Both.”

“You are sexy … and you’re not pretty, you’re beautiful … and I want you.” I said.

“I know.  You show me that when I’m with you and that makes me happy.  I just wanted to make you happy.  Maybe give you back some of what you give to me … of what you’ve given to me in this short time that we’ve … known … each other.”

“Being with you makes me happy.  When I’m not with you …” I said, trailing off because I didn’t know what else to say.

She hugged me tighter but didn’t say anything.  I lay there, next to her, holding her.  We lay there like that for several minutes and then my stomach rumbled noticeably and that’s when I remembered the pizza in the other room.

“Is that your stomach?” Marie asked, smiling.

“Yeah.” I said, laughing.  “I forgot that I was hungry, seeing you in your lingerie.  I guess my priorities got messed up.”

Marie laughed softly and ran her hand down my cheek.

“I think your priorities are set just fine.” She said, smiling and looking at me.

I laughed.

“Yeah.  I guess they are.”

I started to get out of bed.

“Where are you going?” she asked.

“I’m hungry.  I’m going to get a slice or two … you want some?”

“Yeah.” Marie said sitting up. 

“Yeah, I think I do.  You warm up the pizza and I’ll get us something to drink.  Is Coke okay with you?  I’ve got a two liter in the fridge.”

“Yeah, that’s fine … as long as it’s not Diet Coke or that New Coke stuff.”

We both got out of bed, me naked and Marie sitting down to start unrolling her stockings.

“Uh uh.  Don’t even think about it.” I said loudly, wagging my finger and she stopped, huffed then smiled.

“What?” she asked, surprised at me raising my voice to her, looking up at me.

“You know what I said.  You have to eat pizza in the sexy stuff.”

Marie huffed and blew a strand of hair from her face.

“All of it?  You want me to put all of that stuff back on?” she asked, finding her bra on the floor and reaching for it.

“No.  I’ll let you off with just the stockings but if you try to take them off I’ll make you put them back on and … I’ll make you put all of it back on.”

Marie sighed.

“I should never have dug these old things out if you’re going to make me wear them all night.”

“Not all night.” I said.  “But I did say that you had to wear them while we ate pizza and I’m going to hold you to that.”

“Oh, you are, are you?”

“Yes.  I am.”

Marie stood up, walked down the hall in front of me, stopped, reached down and picked up my shirt that she had pulled off of me. 

“Hey!  What do you think you’re doing with that?” I asked her.

“Wearing it.  I’m cold.” She said.

"What if I'm cold, too?" I asked her.

"You can wear my dress." she said, smiling.

I laughed and shook my head.

"No, I don't think so." I said.

Marie held my shirt in her hands, bunched up, sniffed it then closed her eyes with the wadded up shirt held to her face.  She opened her eyes, smiled at me and then put my shirt on, quickly pulling it on like a jacket and leaving the buttons undone.  I watched her as I pulled on my black bikini briefs and my jeans.

“What?” Marie asked, turning to look at me and smiling.

“You really like wearing my shirts, don’t you?” I asked.

“Your shirt smells like you.  I like how you smell.  You have a good smell.  Your natural scent, the smell of your skin, your hair.  I like rubbing my face against your skin, smelling you.  It’s one of the things I find really attractive about you. ” She said. 

“And what are the other things.”

“Things.” She said.

“What things?” I asked.

"Things." she said again, smiling and blushing.

"So ... you're not going to tell me?"

Marie shook her head playfully, slowly, but she didn’t say, she just smiled that smile again and walked in front of me, wearing nothing but her black stockings and my shirt.  I watched, mesmerized, as she walked down the hall, thigh highs, bare bottom, dark wisp of pubic hair glimpsed every now and then teasingly in that hollow space between her legs as her bottom swayed, my button up shirt covering her nakedness from the waist up.  I knew that I'd remember that sight for a long time to come as well.

I got the pizza from where I had set it down in the living room and warmed up a few pieces in the microwave while Marie filled two glasses with ice and poured the Coke.  Watching her move around the kitchen, naked except for the black thigh high stockings and my shirt, was mesmerizing and I guess she thought the same because we kept catching the other taking long glances.  After I’d warmed up four slices of pizza I followed Marie back down the hall to the bedroom and we sat there on the bed, in various stages of nakedness, eating warmed up Pizza Hut pizza off of a paper plate and sharing a tall glass of Coke on ice.

Afterwards we got under the sheets, had heathen sex again then held each other and just basked in the afterglow.  Sometime during the afterglow we fell asleep but I couldn’t tell you who fell asleep first … it might even have been a tie.
 

Marie woke me the next morning with her hands and mouth, worshipping me to completion and even the afterglow.  I added that to my list of firsts that she had shown me in our time together.  It was the second night that I’d ever spent with a woman.  It was the second time that a woman had ever done that to me without expectation of something in return and the first morning that a woman had ever awakened me like that.  Afterwards I returned the favor not out of some sense of balance or fairness but because I wanted to.  

Afterwards I wanted her again and I really gave her bed a workout.  At one point she got so loud that I had to put a hand over her mouth to stifle all the noise that she was making and apparently that turned her on even more.  The more I tried to restrain her and fight her into submission the more aggressive she became, the deeper her growls and the louder her cries became.  Fury and desire rose between us; I finished well after she did and fell into her, collapsing on top of her, catching my breath as best as I could as she shuddered every now and then, rubbing her arms and hands up and down my back, holding me while our hearts and breathing slowed, her arms slowly moving up and down my bare skin, her fingers spread, rubbing me, touching me, caressing me.

“I did.” She kept whispering, every now and then, softly, sometimes as a small tremor ran through her body.  

I didn’t know what she meant by that … somehow I just accepted it, holding her there, two as one, our arms and legs wrapped around each other and two hearts trying to touch.  We showered and ate breakfast in the living room; Eggo waffles, warmed in a toaster, buttered and with a shared glass of milk.  Short of some small talk not much was said.  Breakfast wasn't really about the food, it was more the afterglow ... just being together, just being near.  Marie was the kind of person where just being with her was like talking to her and silence was our conversation.

I looked at the clock on the wall; 7:48AM.


After breakfast Marie and I went back to bed, snuggled, made out without having sex and fell asleep again in each other’s arms.  I woke up at 11:15 and realized that my parents were probably going to start getting worried.  I told Marie that I had to run some errands and she said that she had some to run a few as well.  When she asked me if I had to work that night I told her that I was free.

"How did you manage that?" she asked.

"It happens sometimes, less often than I'd like.  Luck of the draw, I guess ..." I said as I shrugged my shoulders.

That smile crossed her lips again.

“Want to meet me back here around seven, Cowboy?  Tonight?” she asked.

“You’re sure?” I asked.  “You didn’t get enough of me last night?”

“I’m sure and no, I didn’t.  Did you get enough of me?” she said, smiling.

“No.  I mean ... yeah ... I mean ... Yeah, I can do that.  I want to see you again.” I told her, trying to process what she said, what she was offering and my own desires.

"Promise you'll come back?  Tonight?" she asked.

"Yeah.  Promise." I said.

Wow.

Spending two nights in a row with the same woman … I was going to spend two nights in a row with the same woman at her apartment!  

I put that down in my Book of Firsts as well.

I got dressed, kissed her goodbye, a long deep kiss, at the door and left.  My parents were being good with me and I didn’t want to upset that relationship or throw any kind of chains around the kind of freedom that I was enjoying being able to come and go as I liked.  Hell, as it was Marie only lived about two miles from where I lived; I could have walked or ridden my Schwinn ten speed bike to see her if I had wanted to.

I spent the afternoon at home, cleaned and washed my Camaro, cut the yards, took a much needed nap, got cleaned up then went out for the night.  I told my parents I was going to be gone all night again but that I would be back in time for church.  Amid some grumbling I left and spent the night with Marie.  This time she was in a better mood … the lingerie was gone but that didn’t matter because I took her out to eat at IHOP again, kind of making it our special place, as much as IHOP can be a special place for two people, then we went back to her apartment and surrendered ourselves to our shared needs and desires.  

When we were alone together we were heathens, savages, pagans … we lost ourselves in each other totally and completely. 

There was only Marie.

Marie was passionate, as ravenous for me as she was uninhibited … unashamed of what she had and how she could use it.  She explored me and my boundaries as much as I explored her and her boundaries and the more we explored each other’s boundaries the more elastic or even non-existent we found those boundaries to be.  It was the thrill of discovery, of exploration, of limitless passion for both of us and it was the most wonderful thing that I had ever felt in my life.  Things that I'd read about in dirty magazines, things that I'd thought about for years, things that I'd always wanted to try with a woman ... Marie was willing, even eager and she had some ideas of her own.

We never said no to each other.

I lost myself in her and she lost herself in me.

Marie’s body was a playground without rules … without fences or limits.  Marie’s body was my own personal playground, my own private playground.  She told me what she wanted and told me how she wanted it.  When I wanted something from her she was just as willing to give.  Marie was pure undiluted hedonism when you got her hot and bothered and so far, experience had taught me that getting her hot and bothered wasn’t that hard if you just put her on a pedestal, made her the center of your attention and worshipped her with everything that you could give her.  It felt like someone had neglected Marie for a long time and that much was pretty evident.  Marie was ravenous for affection and attention and she ate up anything and everything that I offered her; she ate up everything that I gave her.  She met me with a need, with a desire that said that she was making up for lost time, lost chances, and that whatever her life was she was running a deep debt on affection and physical attention being paid to her.

When we were together Marie was an uncaged tigress let loose to prowl and hunt.  Marie was animal-like in bed that night and we didn’t go to sleep until late that evening.  As I lay there, with Marie snuggled up next to me sleeping contentedly, I listened to the still not familiar sounds of the apartment around me and I thought of just how lucky a guy I was.  Here I was, sixteen years old and I was banging this older woman like a drum set on the stage of a KISS concert.  Marie moaned softly in her sleep and I pulled the sheet up over her shoulders, wrapping my arm around her and snuggling in behind her.

Sleep came quicker than I thought it would.  

I slept until almost 1am in the morning and woke her gently in my usual way, exploring her.  I let her be selfish, built her up slowly until her release and then I let her sleep again.  I set my alarm on my watch and woke in plenty of time to spend more time with her, shower with her then make it to church.  When I left, it was with a feeling of certainty that I’d see Marie again … I had no idea when that might be, how many days or maybe even weeks would pass before I saw her again but I knew, I just felt way down deep inside, that I’d see her again.  

How long Marie would be with me I didn’t know but I planned on enjoying every single minute I could with her, as often as I could.  I told myself that I wasn’t going to take what we had for granted and that I was going to cherish every single minute that I got to spend with her and I guess that was, like most things in life, easier said than done.  It was definitely a convenient affair that I was having with her even if it was entirely at her whim, beck and call but I didn’t mind …  When you're sixteen and you've got someone like Marie in your life you learn to be pretty easy and open with how things flow.

My parents didn’t say anything this time around when I came home with just enough time to get dressed for church though my mom did ask about the hickey on my neck.  She was concerned, really concerned, that I had gotten back with Pam again and the thought of that worried her since my parents did not like Pam ... at all.  I was quick to reassure her that I hadn’t, that it was an entirely different girl that got a little carried away when we were making out last night and mom pretty much let it slide with a noticeable sigh of relief, something she obviously wouldn’t have done if she knew that I’d spent the last two nights rolling in the sheets having marathon sex with a woman who was probably as old as she was.  I wore a white button up shirt with a button down collar, add in a red tie to the outfit and with my dark suit coat on you couldn’t even see the hickey at all which was a good thing since if I’d gone to church with a hickey on my neck where everyone could have seen it I think my mom would have died from embarrassment.

Tonight was the night of my Junior Prom. 

It had been a week since I’d been with Marie, my second time with Marie, and the memories were still fresh enough that they sometimes kept me awake at night thinking about her.  It had been three weeks since I’d first been with Marie and four weeks since I'd first met her.  

Wow.  

One whole month.

The past month had really been one hell of a roller coaster.  Since my time with Pam was over, since there was no way that I could ask Marie to be my prom date and not wanting to miss my junior year high school prom just because it was, after all, my junior year high school prom (and the first prom that I’d ever been to) I did the next best thing that I could …  I asked Jeanne to go with me, more as a friend and less as a date.

Jeanne had no problem with this and it sure beat going stag.

Stag.

There was that term again.

Stag.

A male deer.

A single male deer probably looking to get lucky.

Stag.

What an antiquated term.

At the time, Jeanne was seeing some guy named Aaron.  Aaron was this blonde haired, blue eyed, athletic rich kid who wore preppy clothes, drove a black Porsche and had one hell of a bitch for an ex-girlfriend.  Aaron was on the outs with his girlfriend and Jeanne was picking him up on the rebound.  That was a bad move; at least it seemed to be a bad move to me.  Jeanne saw it as a relationship in the making, helping to pick up a fallen Prince Charming.  I saw it as Aaron trying to get what he could with Jeanne while he was taking a break from having to deal with his over demanding, over controlling ex-girlfriend and her family.   In short, Aaron was going slumming and Jeanne had stars in her eyes.

Jeanne was like me, she always attracted the ones that were somehow bad for her.   

Maybe one day Jeanne would start learning from her mistakes.

Hell, maybe one day I’d actually start learning from my mistakes.

I guess it would be interesting to see which of us got there first.

I changed into a rented tuxedo that I’d gotten from Floyd’s Formals on Hardy Street, bought a corsage at the Sunflower grocery store in the University Mall and drove over to Jeanne’s house to pick her up.  The air conditioner was blowing on high and WHSY Rock 104.5 FM was playing Boston's "More than a feeling" on the Kenwood.  As I was stuck in traffic on Hardy Street listening to the guitar riffs of Boston's hit I thought about Jeanne and my mind wandered back to the first time that I had met her …   She had started work at County Market around the same time that Pam had, way back in the fall of last year right as football season was gearing up and we were getting ready to enter a really busy seasonal shopping time.  That was almost eight long months ago.  Both Jeanne and Pam were from way north of Hattiesburg, up near Jackson.  Pam was from a little pothole in the road called Star, Mississippi and Jeanne was from a little bit closer in Mendenhall; both were going to USM this year.  It was Pam’s freshman year and it was Jeanne’s junior year, having transferred in after graduating from Hinds Junior College.

Pam was two years older than I was.

Jeanne was four years older than I was.

Pam was still a little girl; lost, confused and desperate.

Jeanne was a woman; mysterious, confident, sure, and exotic.

I smiled as I remembered seeing Jeanne that first time.  

I had been working Front Wall with Rick and Jeanne was checking customers out at her register.  She was one of the most beautiful women I’d ever seen, easily the most beautiful woman working at County Market.

She had a natural beauty.

She was a new employee.

I’d never worked with her before.

I'd never seen a woman as beautiful as Jeanne was before.

She was the take your breath away kind of woman that graced magazine covers and for which mere mortals could only hope to attract the attention of.

“What are you doing?” Rick asked as I stood there by Front Wall staring at Jeanne.

“Checking out the new cashier.  Have you seen her?”

“Which one?” Rick asked.

“The brunette there, the one with the pretty eyes and smile.  Register five.”

Rick looked down the line of registers at the cashiers.

“She’s new.  When did she start?” Rick asked.

“Today.  I think.  Maybe.  I don’t know … this is the first time I’ve worked with her.  I got a price check for her a few minutes ago.  She is fine.” I mused.

“What’s her name?” Rick asked.

“Jeanne.” I said.

Almost as if on cue Jeanne turned, saw me looking at her and smiled … and with one single smile from her I was smitten.

“She doesn’t know it yet but I’m going to take her to my prom this year.  She’s going to be my prom date.” I told Rick.

“Who?” Rick asked.

“Her.  Jeanne.  The new brunette.” I said, pointing towards Jeanne with my box cutter.

Rick looked at Jeanne again and gave one of his loud laughs.

“Her?  Oh dream on!” He said, laughing.

“Watch me.”

“Dream on, Shields!  You don’t have a chance in hell with someone like that!”

“It’ll happen.” I said.

“Right …” Rick chided.

And it did … just not the way that I’d thought that it would.

Jeanne was with me but she wasn't with me.  Thinking back now to all that had happened I might have had a chance with Jeanne … might have ... that is, if I hadn’t blown that chance by going and getting involved with Pam.  Pam and Jeanne had been friends and somewhere along the way when I'd become friends with both.  I guess I'd made the mistake of mentioning to Pam that I was interested in Jeanne ... more than interested because the fact was that right then I wanted to date Jeanne.  For whatever reason known only to her, Pam had decided that she wanted me for herself and I was stupid enough to get involved with her even though she already had a weirdo boyfriend slash pseudo fiance.  The problem with having a relationship with Pam was that it had been a disposable relationship from the start and I never should have gotten involved with her.  Pam had been a mistake; I should have just ignored Pam all together and gone for broke with Jeanne right from the start.  Jeanne had been the one worth chasing after, Pam hadn't been worth the waste of time, and, hindsight being what it usually was, I saw that now when I should have seen that way back then.

Mistakes made and lessons learned ... the hard way, as usual.

For a year that had started with nothing but promise nothing had gone like I had wanted it to go this year, not with Pam and not with Jeanne.  Nevertheless, here I was, taking Jeanne to my junior year high school prom just like I had told Rick that I was going to do all those months ago.  I was finally taking Jeanne to my prom … just not the way that I had wanted to take her to my prom.  The circumstances were different but the end result was the same and I guess in life that’s all that really matters.  Life doesn’t care how you get somewhere, or how you get something ... no, life only cares that you get it, when you’re supposed to get it.  Being happy isn’t always an option in life, hell, most of the time it’s not even on the menu; this I was coming to learn the hard way at an early age and this ... being here with Jeanne like this,  was just another hard lesson.  

Sometimes life gave you what you wanted just not the way that you wanted it.

Jeanne was renting an old wooden house on the east side of West 4th Street, a bit on down past Hattiesburg High.  It wasn’t a good section of town and it was only getting worse as the years rolled on and the undesirable aspects of Hattiesburg’s society moved closer and closer into housing that became increasingly affordable as the older gentry fled to other parts of the city when and as they could.  Why she had moved here from her townhouse over at Foxfire Apartments was a question that I hadn’t asked her yet but I guess she had her reasons.  I parked my Rally Sport in the two broken, overgrown concrete ruts that served as a primitive driveway on the side of her house, got out, adjusted my tux and walked up to the front door.  The old rotten wooden steps creaked loudly under the weight of my footsteps.  In a few more years they probably wouldn’t be safe to use at all.

I knocked on the front door of her rented house.

Old wood.

Cracked paint flaking.

I waited.

Old metal railing rusting.

Nothing.

I knocked louder this time.

Footsteps from somewhere inside the house … coming closer.

The sound of a very old lock being undone, tried first one way then another; Jeanne answered the door.  She was stunning … just … stunning … on so many levels.  She wore a strapless bright red dress that she really filled out and she was drop dead gorgeous to the point that I was almost speechless.

Almost.

“Hi!” I said and that was all I could say because Jeanne was stunning, the kind of stunning that would literally take your breath away and reduce any 20th century man to monosyllabic Neanderthal grunts at best.

“Hi!” she said, smiling.

Jeanne had a great smile. 

“How do I look?” she asked.

My brain was rebooting.  I'd never seen Jeanne much out of her work smock and white button up shirt and here she was dressed in a way that would slay lesser mortals who gazed upon her figure.  There was a pause, a silence as I tried to force my brain to work.  Her eyes were saying that she was waiting on an answer, an answer that was taking an eternity and a day to crawl from my brain to my lips.

“Stunning.” I said, because it was true, and I managed to say it right before the silence became uncomfortable.

Okay, that answer was multi-syllabic but close enough.  

Jeanne blushed, cutting her eyes at me.  Jeanne was an exotic beauty … the kind that ancient city states would have gone to war over to possess.  I gave her the corsage which she wore on an elastic band on her wrist and she helped me pin on my red rose boutonniere.  After that, she grabbed a small matched purse bag, said goodbye to her roommate and I walked her down the steps and down the sidewalk to my Rally Sport.  I opened the passenger side door for her, helped her get into the Camaro and then we left.  We didn't talk much on the way which I guess was for the best; if we had any thoughts we kept them to ourselves and didn't share.

Ten minutes later we were arriving at Hattiesburg Prep out by the old Beverly Drive-In, down Old Airport Road.  We made our entrance, were announced to the gathered crowd, and made our prom pictures.  Most of the music was contemporary Top 40 … Prince’s “Purple Rain” soundtrack album and Morris Day and The Time were popular as was Chicago’s latest album.  It wasn’t heavy metal but at least it wasn’t redneck country so thank God for small mercies.  Jeanne was easily the most beautiful woman there at the prom that night and she didn’t even have to try.  I had several compliments on her beauty and an equal number of envious glances from the other guys, especially some of the seniors.  Jeanne turned heads like whiplash.  A few of the other girls cast sharp envious glances her way … Jeanne exuded a natural kind of beauty, an exotic kind, the kind of beauty that even with all the money the other girls had paid to get ready for tonight, for their special night, they still couldn’t hope to match.

Here, in this place, now, in this time, Jeanne was mine.  

Jeanne and I danced closer than I expected that we would but not as close as I would have once liked to have danced with her given my sophomoric desire for her, what had easily amounted to a crush, just a few short months before.  The first time I saw Jeanne I was smitten by her but as the months passed and we got to know each other, as the emotional train wreck that was my affair with Pam happened, as Marie came roaring into my life, as cold, hard reality stepped in and dashed any stupid teenage crush that I might have had on her I came to realize that there would never be anything between Jeanne and me, never anything serious, never anything like I had wanted there to be.

Jeanne was an exotic, a rarity.  She had a natural beauty few other women could boast of but the odds of anything other than the most basic of friendships occurring between us were astronomically close to zero.  So close to zero as to be laughable … Jeanne might as well have been a glossy photo on the front of a photographer’s magazine, torn off and stapled to my bedroom wall beside my bed for as close as I would ever be able to get to her and to think that I thought, just a few months ago, that I could actually have, no, might actually have, something meaningful, something deep, something long lasting with her was nothing more than the fodder of testosterone fueled teenage boy daydreams.

I thought back to the women that had been in my life so far this year … Jeanne, Pam, Marie.  Each had been a learning experience in and of their own.  Pam had been a mistake.  A terrible mistake but she had been a learning experience, a trial by fire, and I wasn’t the same person that I was before I met her.  I guess that was good … it just didn’t feel like that sometimes.  Pam had taken something from me and even I could see that.  I don’t know what it was that she had taken from me but she had taken something and she hadn’t been nice when she had taken it.  Maybe somewhere down the road of life I’d need what she stole from me, maybe not.  Time and luck would tell, one way or the other, but I felt emptier for having ever known her.  Pam didn’t feel like a relationship … more like a romance if it had been written by Faulkner ... or Faust.

Jeanne wasn't so much a case of unrequitted love as she was just a daydream, a youthful fantasy fueled by out of control raging teenage hormones … wishful thinking on my part … and the tantalizing tease of our flirting with each other when we worked together.  The allure of wishing for something you could never have.  Jeanne was a high school boy’s glossy pinup in his locker … something he could stare at and think about ... nothing more.  My time with Pam, not to mention my current involvement with Marie, certainly complicated things to the point that I didn’t see any real way that I could ever have a chance of having any kind of relationship with Jeanne other than what we now shared.  Part of me, a bigger part of me than I was comfortable admitting, regretted not making a play for Jeanne all those months ago but I guess if I had then things between us would have gotten … complicated.  

Complicated.

There was that damn word again.

What Jeanne and I shared, this strange friendship, might not exist and things between us would certainly have been complicated, especially at work, if I had ever told her how I really felt about her all those long months ago.  Part of me thought that if I had told her up front how I felt about her then I might be here with her in exactly the way that I'd wanted to be here with her all those months ago.

Or I might not even be here with her at all.

Chances not taken.

Paths not chosen.

Words not spoken.

Feelings not shared.

Complicated.

I grimaced at that thought.

Complicated.

Yeah, if I had to use one word to describe this year, just one single word to describe my entire life right here and right now that word would be … complicated.

I guess Rick had been right from the start.

I had no chance with something … with someone … like Jeanne.

I was just a mortal.

No chance in hell.

Never had.

Never would.

Still … for two hours I had Jeanne alone to myself … something that I had hoped for, even wished for since I first saw her all those months ago, last fall, standing there at her check-out register at County Market.  Now it felt strange; this wasn’t the feeling of accomplishment that I thought it would have been because Jeanne wasn’t mine.  She was with me but she wasn’t mine.

This felt … distant.

This felt … forced.

This felt much less a date, much less two friends going to have fun and more like a casual business arrangement.

A favor being called in.

The truth was that tonight I needed someone for show, I needed a placeholder in my life to validate this coming of age experience and Jeanne was available but she was available for display only.  She wasn’t mine.  She was borrowed and in that regard she was mine in the same way that the tuxedo I was wearing was mine.  She was mine for a little while and she was a warm body filling an empty slot in my life, a slot that was empty only because things hadn’t worked out between us like I had wanted them to, because Pam had left me and because Marie wasn’t (and couldn’t be) here.  Jeanne was a stunt double in my dating life and even though we were a couple that night Jeanne’s thoughts were obviously on Aaron while she was with me and my thoughts were on Marie while I was with her.

She talked of Aaron often.

I thought of Marie often.

Jeanne’s perfume reminded me of Marie if not for the particular scent more so just for its presence.  Jeanne’s hand in my hand reminded me of Marie.  Dancing close to Jeanne, my right palm to the bare skin of her back, my left hand on her shoulder, reminded me of Marie.  The warmth of her skin.  The occasional brush of her hair against my face as we danced close.  I could almost close my eyes and imagine that it was Marie, not Jeanne, that was there with me.  Almost.  Marie had spoiled me in regard to companionship and for that I felt something akin to regret when I was with Jeanne.  Here was Jeanne, a woman that I had strong feelings for, had even had a serious crush on, since before I ever knew Pam and way before I ever knew Marie.  Eight months ago I had told Rick that I was going to take Jeanne to my prom this year and here I was, with Jeanne, at my prom.  Just like I’d said I would … 

... just not for the reasons I intended.

My own Pyrrhic victory.

Jeanne was another mystery in my life … but she wasn’t my mystery, not like Marie was, because I didn’t have a building interest, at least not anymore, in Jeanne like I did in Marie.  Maybe it really was my age, I thought as I danced with her, and I found that funny since Jeanne was just four years older than I was yet I was in way over my head being involved with Marie who was herself easily twice Jeanne’s age.  Twice and probably then some.  Jeanne was four years older than I was.  I was a junior in high school, she was a junior in college.  At this point in life age was relative, at least to me it was, because Jeanne could have been thirty or forty years old and I'd probably have still felt the same way about her. 

Jeanne.

She looked at me and smiled as we danced close.  That same smile that she had smitten me with eight months ago but it wasn’t the kind of smile that Marie could give me, not that kind of smile, and it never would be … never could be.   Jeanne was a mystery in my life but she wasn’t my mystery and if she wasn’t my mystery then what was she?  What did we have, where was it all going and more importantly … why?   Often enough Jeanne and I went out cruising and drinking wine coolers together after work and we had a lot of fun at work when we shared the same shift or our shifts overlapped but after everything was said and done we were just friends ....  Good friends but just friends.  We were just two souls hanging out late at night in the urban wasteland of Hattiesburg, unwinding and trying to make sense of this chaotic thing called life in a college town full of constant change and flow.  Jeanne and I were really good friends but still just friends and no matter how I looked at it that situation was never going to change. 

But … did I want to change that situation?

Did I really want to change that situation ... especially now?

If I could have a choice, right here and now, of being with Jeanne or being with Marie who would I choose?

Marie.

I realized then that these two hours with Jeanne … that this was all the time in the universe that I was ever going to get to be this close to her and right here, right now, dancing with her, slow dancing, arm in arm, holding hands, our bodies almost touching, her perfume strong, her eyes deep, her smile mesmerizing … this was the closest that I would ever get to being with Jeanne, to having my sophmoric daydream come true with her so I cherished that small amount of time that I shared with Jeanne while I had it.  I cherished what I had with her for what it was, for as long as I could have just that and … like all good things in life … it was over all too soon.

Two hours.

The blink of an eye.

Time to go.

After the prom I drove Jeanne back to her place, offered her my hand to help her out of my Camaro, walked her to the door, thanked her for going to the prom with me and said goodnight to her.  It didn't feel like the end of a date, no, it felt like I was returning something to a store, something that didn’t fit or something that I already had one of.  She kissed me on the cheek, as girls often do at the end of a date, picked up the bottom of her red dress and walked briskly on inside the house.  I stood there, her kiss still warm on my cheek but it didn’t feel like a kiss, no, it felt more like a receipt for having checked something back in from where it had been borrowed ... like a book from the library or a movie from the video store.  As I turned to pull the front door shut behind me I heard Jeanne call out loudly to her roommate and ask if Aaron had called while she was out.

Jeanne had been a placeholder in my life tonight and maybe ... just maybe ... I’d been a placeholder in hers as well.

Two hours.

Friends ... just friends.  

That was all Jeanne and I would ever be and I realized that now.  I also realized how far I’d come in just eight months, the choices I’d made, the situations I’d been through, everything that I’d learned the hard way.  I thought I had known everything there was that a guy could know eight months ago.  I'd thought that I was grown …  Man, had I been wrong.  I had been so wrong.  So damn wrong.  My time with  Jeanne and Pam and Marie had taught me a lot and I’d learned the hard way each and every step along the path that brought me to this point in time, right here, right now.  I wasn’t the same person that I had been eight months ago.  In fact, looking back at who I had been way back then I didn’t even recognize that person from eight months ago.  

That wasn’t me.

This was me.

Standing here.

Right here.

Right now.

Alone.

A lot had changed in eight months, a whole hell of a lot.

I had changed.

My needs had changed.

My wants had changed.

My desires had changed.

Misconceived preconceptions had been replaced with cold hard facts, more often than not in a merciless fashion.  Life this year had been a crucible to say the least.  I tossed my keys in the air and caught them and I kept thinking that I had finally been given something that I had wanted for eight months now, a tiny taste, a tease of what could never be and that I was somehow both far richer and far poorer for the experience.  As I stepped off Jeanne’s porch and started walking back to my '78 Chevy Camaro Rally Sport I thought back to eight months ago … it felt like a lifetime ago, it felt like an entirely different period in history.

“What’s her name?” Rick asked.

“Jeanne.” I said.

Almost as if on cue Jeanne turned, saw me looking at her and smiled … and with one single smile from her I was smitten.

“She doesn’t know it yet but I’m going to take her to my prom this year.  She’s going to be my prom date.” I told Rick.

“Who?” Rick asked.

“Her.  Jeanne.  The new brunette.” I said, pointing towards Jeanne with my box cutter.

Rick looked at Jeanne again and gave one of his loud laughs.

“Her?  Oh dream on!” He said, laughing.

“Watch me.”

“Dream on, Shields!  You don’t have a chance in hell with something like that!”

“It’ll happen.” I said.

“Right …” Rick chided.

And it did … just not the way that I’d thought that it would.

Kiss my ass, Rick.

Two weeks later, Jeanne and I were sitting out in my Camaro in the parking lot after work.  I don’t think we ever talked about our shared experience at the prom after the prom … I guess it really was more of an arrangement and less of a date, at least that’s what it felt like to me.  I wouldn’t have been mad or upset if Jeanne had felt the same way.  Jeanne had been as much a part of my prom as my tux had been and for pretty much the same reason.  To think what we had shared was anything else would have been fooling myself and right then, at that point in my life, I just didn't feel that naive.

Jeanne and Aaron didn’t last long.

I didn’t figure that they would.  

Guys like Aaron are easy to read, easy to see what they wanted … they were walking stereotypes; the kind that Hollywood makes bad movies and long running sitcoms about.  The trouble is that they end up fooling a lot of really nice girls like Jeanne and the really nice girls like Jeanne get hurt and that just makes nice girls like Jeanne hard and jaded.  Jeanne was telling me about Aaron and how he had run back to his ex-girlfriend, that somehow he and his ex had worked things out and patched things up, all the while Jeanne was spending time with Aaron trying to get close to him because she really liked him.  Jeanne kept talking; she needed to talk, to work things out, to tell someone about her troubles and tonight I was her designated shoulder to lean on.

I didn't mind.

I didn't have anything better to do with my time than sit on the hood of my Camaro, listening to one of the most beautiful women in Hattiesburg tell me her personal problems and ask me for advice on how to deal with what she was going through ... like I was some kind of expert.  What did I know?  Still, part of any good friendship was being there for your friend and part of being there was just that ... being there.  Listening.  Trying to help.  Knowing when to listen, when to talk and when to just shut up and let someone ramble as they throw up what it is that's making them sick on the inside.

I took a long drink of my can of Cherry Coke and that’s when I realized something … here I was with Jeanne and yet while I was listening to her tell me about her problems with Aaron all I could do was think about being with Marie.  I realized that not only had I accepted that any kind of relationship with Jeanne other than a simple friendship was never going to be anything more than wishful thinking I also realized that I didn’t really have any regrets about coming to that realization either.

Something had changed.

I didn’t want Jeanne like I had wanted her before.  

Eight months ago I’d given a lot to be with her.

A whole hell of a lot ... in fact I'd probably have mortgaged a testicle to be with someone like her.

Right now all I was prepared to offer her was some of my time, my friendship, my shoulder to lean on and maybe an ear to bitch in when she needed it. 

Did I still feel the same way about Jeanne that I had just a few months ago?  

No, I didn’t think so.

In fact, I was sure that I didn’t.

The mystery that was Marie had quickly obliterated the wishful thinking that was Jeanne until the point where my teenage daydreams of being with Jeanne were finally gone …  Jeanne had been replaced by Marie.  Daydream replaced with reality.  Fantasy with fact.  Jeanne had stopped being an object of desire to me, she had stopped being something that I couldn’t have and had just started being … what?

A coworker?

A friend?

Both?

Was this what Jeanne felt towards me when she was with me … this kind of plain sort of just being with someone else, someone familiar, just because you were really comfortable around them, because it was convenient to be with them and because they were fun to be around? 

No strings. 

No promises. 

No commitments. 

No hold me ups and no tie me downs.

No passion.

No regret.

Nothing more?

Was it as simple as that?

Jeanne started saying something about Aaron and I thought about relationships, in general and mine in particular, especially the ones that I had had this year, and I realized that I shared something with Marie that I could never share with Jeanne … an intimacy that was both bound and boundless.  I would spend whatever time I could with Marie because even though Marie was an irregular, sporadic part of my life she was still the surest part of my life and that, unlike my daydreams of being with Jeanne, was something that I knew that I could count on and having something you could count on … having even just one solid thing that you could count on in your life, especially when you were my age, was worth more than all the hoping and wishing and daydreaming in the world.

Just one solid thing you could count on in your life ...

Jeanne had been wishful thinking.

Pam had been a mistake.

Marie was real.

Jeanne said something and I smiled ... not because of what she said but because I suddenly realized, in an epiphany kind of way, that I had finally started learning from my mistakes.

After that first night when Marie and I had met in the parking lot at County Market and that one afternoon two weeks later there in the parking lot when she gave me the hickey on my neck, Marie almost never dropped by the store to see me which was probably a good thing.  Whatever secret or secrets that Marie was wanting to keep, her not showing up at work to see me kept tongues from flapping behind my back and maybe hers as well.  When Marie wanted to spend time with me, she would either call the store to talk to me for a few minutes or there would be a hand written note under the windshield wiper of my Camaro Rally Sport asking me to come to her place or meet her somewhere to eat after I got off from work.  If neither one of those happened then I waited there in the parking lot for fifteen minutes after I got off from work, half as a courtesy to her and half wishful thinking on my part and if Marie didn’t show then I got on with my life.

That was the agreement.

Hell, it might even have been a pact between us, set in stone never to be broken.

Don’t look for her because she would come looking for me if it was meant to be and if we could be together.  If not then it wasn’t meant to be.  Looking for her would … complicate things.  Complicate things up bad.  That was the agreement, an agreement that became not only a standard operating procedure for me but a ritual as well.  Marie would come looking for me if her schedule or whatever it was that complicated her life allowed for it and that part always made me curious, even a bit suspicious.  What kind of life could she lead if she didn’t want me to look for her, if she didn’t want me to show up at her apartment when I had time to spend with her, if she didn’t want me to call her and just talk to her?  What kind of relationship did we have it if only existed a few days a month, if even then?  Why all the secrecy and the long times between seeing each other?  I tried to turn what I had with Marie around in my mind but I just couldn’t ever figure out what game she was playing or why the rules were the way that they were but mainly I couldn’t figure out what I was to Marie … in her life, what was I to her?

Boyfriend?

Maybe, though it certainly didn’t feel like that.  If I was Marie’s boyfriend then it was the weirdest boyfriend / girlfriend relationship I’d been in yet.  Still, it wasn’t bad … no, not bad … just kind of weird, maybe even happenstance.

Convenience?

I was probably pretty convenient for Marie, considering that she was the one who always came looking for me and she had asked me to never come looking for her.

Lover?

Yes!  

Oh, God, yes! 

Dear Penthouse Letters …

Toy?

Hmmm. 

Maybe. 

Was I a toy?  

I could see me being Marie’s toy, something fun and naughty that she pulled out on the side when she got lonely and needed attention or companionship which went right back to the convenience aspect.  Was it really a relationship that I had with Marie or was I just getting used as a toy, as a plaything, when it was convenient for her?

Diversion?

Probably.  

I could see her, bored to tears with her life, bored with her job, whatever job it was that she had, looking for something to break that mundane monotony and along comes … me.  

New me.

Convenient me.  

Toy me.  

Plaything me.  

Diversion me who never tells her “no”, who is always as happy to see her each time as the first time.

Complicated?

That went without saying.  

Boy, did it ever …

Mystery?

Hmmm.

I doubt I was a mystery to Marie but Marie was one ongoing mystery to me.  The one thing that kept bothering me was why was Marie setting the rules for us being together?  The obvious answer was that Marie was married or at least heavily involved with someone and that she was seeing me, being with me, while she was pledged to someone else.  I could see where me showing up at her place, where me coming looking for her when she wasn’t ready to be with me or able to be with me would bring all sorts of unwanted grief into her life.  Her life would get … complicated, fast, just like she said.

If she was married and having an affair with me then was I worth a divorce?  I could see Marie being married, yeah, I could easily see that and I could also easily see why I would want to avoid making things complicated in her life if not for Marie’s sake then for my own sake.  If Marie was married and if she was seeing me on the side and if I was just a toy for her, a diversion, her bit of happiness in an unhappy life, then surprisingly, no matter how I looked at that situation I was fine with that.  After all, Jeanne had called me a home wrecker when I’d been dating Pam and when she found out that I was seeing Marie she had asked if I was wrecking another home.  Maybe I was wrecking a home, another home … maybe I really was a home wrecker.  But maybe, just maybe, Marie’s home had been wrecked long before I came along in her life and maybe I wasn’t so much a home wrecker as I was just helping her climb out of the wreckage that already filled her life.

Either way, I didn’t care.

I really didn’t.

I really didn’t care because Marie was my goddess and I worshipped her.  

She was my physical and sexual religion and part of the excitement of being with Marie was her mystery and trying to figure her out.  Part of the excitement of being with Marie was that there was no great big story to her that I actually had to figure out and wade through just to be with her.  Being with Marie was simple, there was no drama, no complex plot.  She came into my life like a whirlwind, a sexual hurricane, and then she was gone for a while and then she came back just like before, just as quick and strong.

Being with Marie was easy because it was simple to be with her.  Our connection was physical and sexual, tactile, sensual … so much of being with her was just being with her, of losing ourselves in each other in a way that I never thought was possible.  Part of the excitement of being with her was that I never knew when we would be together … just that we would be together … eventually, this week, maybe next, probably the week after that, maybe even the week after that.  I had her and I didn’t have her.  It was the anticipation and the longing that always made each time that we were together seem like that first time all over again.  It was the thought that being with her was wrong in some way and that just made her all the more desirable.  Each time with her was a chance to explore her again, to discover her again, to have her again fully and completely.  There didn’t seem to be any regularity to when Marie would get in touch with me but somehow she knew when I was working and she would call the store during my shift and ask me to come see her after I got off work … all part of the mystery that was Marie.

For what it was worth, after discussing the hickey incident over a bag of Skittles that night at work, Jeanne never talked about Marie again (to me or anyone else that I could tell) and to my credit Marie became my best kept secret.  I didn’t even talk about Marie to Rick even though a tiny, childish, selfish part of me really wanted to tell him all about her and what she and I were doing if only for the simple reason of both proving him wrong about her and of seeing his jaw hit the floor hard enough to crack the pavement.

It wasn’t worth it, though.  

Proving Rick wrong at the chance of losing being with Marie wasn’t worth the risk.  

No, Marie was a mystery to me but she was also a secret ... my secret.

I went through the rest of April without hearing from or seeing Marie but I thought about her … a lot … and I thought a lot about what we shared and the more I tried to figure out what we had the more the mystery of Marie deepened.

In late April of 1986 I was in my ’78 Chevy Camaro Rally Sport cruising down old Highway 42 on my way to Petal when I lucked up and found a 1979 black and gold Pontiac Trans Am sitting on a used car lot just across from the old Hercules chemical and munitions plant.  I'd been looking for a black and gold "Bandit" Trans Am since I was 14 and just like that, life had thrown me a kindness.

It was a 1979 black and gold Pontiac Trans Am … for sale.

I stopped and checked the Trans Am out.  The TA was everything that I had ever wanted in a sports car; big factory aluminum wheels, black on black, T-tops, big V8 under the hood and looks that could kill.  From the time I had been eight years old and had seen “Smokey and the “Bandit”” in the theater I had wanted a “Bandit” Trans Am and here was one, for sale!

$3600 cash.

That price was no problem.

I’d get a loan for the TA, float the note, sell the ’78 Camaro Rally Sport for $3600 and pay off the loan.  Basically I’d trade one car for another, get a better car in the bargain and skip out completely on having to owe anything. 

A week later, after a lot of wheeling and dealing, I drove the black and gold ’79 Pontiac Trans Am off the used car lot.

I sold the ’78 Camaro Rally Sport, with not a little regret, in May of 1986.  Jeanne, Rick and I took the Camaro on one last farewell cruise of Hattiesburg and ended up in the cul-de-sac where we always did … my personal sanctuary, drinking Bartles and Jaymes wine coolers and unwinding after a long shared shift at work.  I raised a toast of my wine cooler to my first car … and all the fun and hell that I’d had in it.  We each shared memories of the car like we were losing a friend ... or remembering a friend that had passed on ... and in a way I guess we were.

That Camaro Rally Sport had been my first car.

I’d done a hundred miles an hour with Rick down Lincoln Road in this car.

I’d had my first kiss in this car.  Vicki …

I’d made out for the first time with a girl in this car.  Kim …

I’d lost my virginity to Pam back in December there in the back seat of this car.

I’d gotten my first speeding ticket in this car and I’d met Marie in this car way back in March.

I’d taken Jeanne to my junior prom in this car in April.

… and now this car, my first car, was about to be gone.

Forever.


I spent a Saturday morning swapping the Kenwood stereo system over from the Camaro Rally Sport to the Trans Am and sold the Camaro Rally Sport to a fifteen year old two weeks after I bought the TA.  The kid had just gotten his license so I guess I was passing the flame on to him.  In fact, I actually made money on the sale of the Camaro Rally Sport and used that money to get a custom dual exhaust system (courtesy of Jerry’s Muffler on the bypass) put on the TA as well as new shocks and brake pads all the way around.  When the mechanic looked at the brakes he was surprised that the TA had rear disc brakes.  It was a rare option, he told me.  A really rare option in 1979.

What sadness I had from selling the ’78 Camaro was short lived, though, because in the Camaro’s place I had bought one very bad ass 1979 Pontiac Firebird Trans Am, a rare and wonderful black and gold RPO Y84 Special Edition, the car that I had wanted all along and the one that I wish I’d had from the start.

I now had a “Bandit” Trans Am.

A real “Bandit” Trans Am.

Oh, hell, yes! 

I finally had my “Bandit”!

The ’79 TA had the kick ass 403 cubic inch V8 under the hood (“6.6 Litre” proudly displayed on the shaker scoop with a nod to the English way of spelling "liter"), a 750 CFM Rochester Quadrajet four barrel carburetor, a TurboHydraMatic 350 three speed automatic transmission, the legendary WS6 performance and handling option, quick ratio power steering, rare four wheel power disc brakes, 10 bolt Safe-T-Trak limited slip differential, 15” x 8” aluminum wheels, manual windows, power door locks, Fisher glass T-tops (larger than the uglier Hurst T-tops), that black and gold color scheme and what I swore was at least three hundred feet of gold pinstriping covering her from nose to tail.  She was one of the most beautiful cars that I’d ever put eyes on and one of the fastest that I’d ever put a foot to the floor in because that 403 under the hood had a lot of guts to it … a lot more than the 350 small block in my Camaro had ever had.

And the Pontiac had her own smell … she smelled used … hot and used.  That black Naugahyde interior had a unique odor in the hot and humid Mississippi weather, especially if the T-tops were on, the windows were rolled up and the TA had sat for a while with the hot sun beating down on the interior through the front glass, the glass hatch roof panels, that big curved glass rear window and the side windows.  The carpet was old and that contributed as well to the overall olfactory ambience, that and the liberal amount of Armor-All protectant that I coated the interior surfaces in to keep them from drying out and cracking in the constant solar bombardment.

It was a smell that wasn’t all together unpleasant.

It was a tough smell.

It smelled like … car.

Used car.

Tough car.

Fast car.

Used to be someone else’s fast car.

Bad ass car.

My car now.

It was perfume, of a sort …  She had a scent all her own, unique, and just then, right then, I thought I might could understand why women liked the smell of a man so much.  I came to love that smell on hot days and how that smell would mix with the smell of cold air from the old air conditioning, blown through seven year old dash plumbing.  Hearing the AC kick on, hearing the rumble through the dash, the roar of the air blowing from the vents and I’d just sit there, in the driver’s seat, caressed by the cool currents of air … I’d close my eyes and be taken to other places on the wings of old smells and times I never spent with the Pontiac.

The TA also had a personality.  Oh, yes, that Trans Am had her own personality, one that I came to know quite well in the many years to follow.  Often I’d talk to her while we were driving, I’d tell her things, thank her for doing something incredible, thank her for just getting me around for a day.  I guess I treated that Pontiac like a lady, washed her, waxed her, bought only the best for her and took care of her and in turn I really think that she took care of me.  It was one of those rare relationships that guys have with a car … a relationship that comes along maybe once, maybe twice in a guy’s life with a car that he really, really loves and a car that really, really loves him back.  There was a connection between me and the Pontiac, a symbiosis maybe; we needed each other.

She wasn't just a car ... she was a friend, a best friend; someone I could count on.

The ’79 TA also came with two bonuses in the trunk … a well-worn cassette tape of Journey’s album “Escape” with a copyright of 1981 on the label and a somewhat worn issue of Penthouse magazine dated July 1982, both hidden under the loose trunk floor mat.  The Journey tape had a scratch to it that played annoyingly during “Open Arms” and a squeal that played every now and then during “Wheel in the Sky”.  The Penthouse had no really significant collector value that I could discern and I figured the trunk was just a convenient hiding place for this bit of porn for the previous owner; the teenage son of a local florist in downtown Hattiesburg and a student out at North Forrest.

The Journey “Escape” tape broke in the Kenwood the first Saturday of August.  Luckily it was a “clean” break, the tape simply snapped, the music stopped mid-song and the reels took up the slack then free spun on their spindles.  I scowled at my luck then shrugged my shoulders, drove over to Camelot Music in the Cloverleaf Mall and bought a replacement copy.  “Wheel in the Sky” became a song that I listened to over and over again there for about three weeks that summer because it just seemed to fit my life so closely.

I wanted to get away from Hattiesburg … maybe I wanted to get away from Mississippi all together.  I just wanted to go … west.  Midwest.  Maybe Northwest.  Not to California because things were stupid out there and just getting more stupid with each passing year.  No, I wanted to go someplace with mountains and snow and wilds and forests; maybe Colorado.  The TA’s big engine was rated for high altitudes so it would run fine at high elevations above sea level.  I wanted to go someplace where there was just long, straight stretches of road with nothing on either side … where I could see mountains or buttes in the distance, where sunrises and sunsets were magnificent, where there wasn’t a lot of humidity …  I wanted to go someplace where there was a small town, some place far away where I could live alone or with someone … special.  I didn’t want to live in a neighborhood or a suburb like I did now.  I wanted to live so far out that I never saw any of my neighbors, that I could walk outside naked in the sunrise or naked in the sunset and just enjoy all of God’s creation.

Colorado.

Wyoming.

Somewhere like that.

Somewhere far away from here, from everybody, from everything.

Maybe.

After college I’d leave.  I’d start saving up now.  Five more years and I’d hit the road to somewhere far away, somewhere that had wide, flat open places and mountains on the side … where I could live away from most of humanity, where I’d be dependent on myself and could make something of my own, of my very own.  Five more long years stuck in this place, stuck in Hattiesburg.  It seemed like an eternity but I realized that it would probably be over in the blink of an eye.  Five years from now I’d be looking back on this moment, remembering this conversation and probably asking myself either why wasn’t I hitting the road or what was taking me so long to get going.

Life was funny strange like that.

Yeah, just me and the TA … headed west into the setting sun, t-tops off, heavy metal blaring out the Kenwood stereo system, wind whipping at me through the open tops and rolled down windows, that big 403 under the hood rumbling as it guzzled premium and took me where ever I wanted to go.

The 403 cubic inch V8 under the hood was amazing.  It was a dinosaur of a motor, a relic from another era, a sledgehammer, an artifact of high performance.  The 403 was strong, strong enough to jerk an elephant through a keyhole, strong enough to boil the rear tires from a dead stop all the way through first gear and to snap them hard and loud shifting to second gear and it could even spin the rear hides, just a bit, when it shifted into third gear if you kept your right leg stiff and didn’t let your boot up off the long skinny pedal until you ran out of numbers on the speedometer.  The 350 cubic inch small block V8 Chevy under the hood of the Camaro Rally Sport had been fast but the 403 cubic inch V8 under the hood of the Pontiac would have smoked it, no sweat.  In a side by side race the TA would have run away from the Camaro Rally Sport like it was standing still.

Effortlessly.

No sweat at all.

Driving the TA around the streets of Hattiesburg made me feel like I was a Great White Shark let loose in a wading pool full of toddlers.  That 403 cubic inch V8 under the hood of the Pontiac was a bad ass monster of an engine.  In a year and era when everything was downsizing, when the latest offerings in Firebird and Camaro came with a 305 cubic inch V8 as their biggest motor I had a 403 cubic inch V8 under my hood.

In a land of miniature ponies I still had a dinosaur.

No substitute for cubic inches.

The TA had T-tops, not those dinky little, weird shaped Hurst T-tops but the larger, better Fisher T-tops.  I loved the T-tops … man, did I love the T-tops!  Cruising around with the T-tops off and the windows down, with the music playing from the transplanted Kenwood stereo system, the sound of that big V8 growling under the hood, the rumble of the dual exhaust system, the roar of the wind past you … that was what I thought heaven must be like … a gas guzzling V8 with loads of bottom end torque and endless roads with hard curves thrown in every now and then for good measure.  That and really good weather where you could always roll the windows down and take the tops off.  If it got hot enough, I’d just throw the AC on as well.  Gas was cheap, you could afford to run the AC wide open with the tops off and the windows down, especially on a hot day.

I parked my ’79 Pontiac Trans Am in the same spot at County Market that I had always parked my ’78 Camaro Rally Sport.  Man, it looked good up there on that hill and I’d often look at it, casting glances every chance I got when I was out on buggy detail, just to reassure myself that that Pontiac up on the hill, that bit of American V8 muscle, was mine.

I parked my TA there because that was my spot, the same spot that I’d parked my car in for almost two years now and because that’s the spot where Marie would look for my car … my old car.  If she didn’t call me then I hoped that Marie would see the TA and figure out that it belonged to me.  With her “please don’t come looking for me, I’ll find you” policy I had no real way to get in touch with her so I simply took a blank sheet of white copier paper, folded it in half and inside I wrote …

“This is my new car I just bought.  I sold the Camaro so don’t look for me to be driving the old red Chevy anymore.”

I signed my name so that she would know it was me and took out my English Leather cologne from the center console, dabbed my finger at the tip and smeared a trace across the note just under my name.  When I went to work, I’d put the note under the windshield wiper.  I hoped that if she didn’t see my Camaro that curiosity might get the better of her and that she would cruise by the Pontiac and see her name on the note stuck under the wiper arm.

I left the same note on my windshield, for two weeks, on every night that I worked at County Market.  Two weeks, every night that I worked, I checked the cologne scented note on my TA as often as I could and each time that I checked the note was still there. 

Two weeks. 

Marie hadn’t come by the store and I hadn’t heard from her.  For two weeks every time I got off work I’d take the note from under my windshield wiper and put it in my glove compartment, ready for the next time that I worked and I’d wait … fifteen, twenty minutes after work for her.  I’d wait on Marie to show up there at County Market but in all of that time she never showed.

Not once.

I was working a 4 to 10 shift at the store, five hours into my shift, when I went out to get in the shopping carts about nine o’clock that night.  I looked up at my TA parked on the hill and saw that the note on my windshield was gone!   At first I thought maybe one of the other guys at the store was playing a trick on me, maybe they had gotten curious, walked up the hill, read the note and now I’d never hear the end of it tonight at work.

But … what if? 

What if Marie had finally come by? 

What if she had read my note? 

What if I was going to see her again, soon? 

Tonight?

I hadn’t seen her in over a month … five weeks now, give or take.

My heart skipped a few beats as I stared up the hill at where I had parked my TA.  There, on the windshield, under the wiper, was a much smaller piece of pale blue paper.  Curious, anxious, I quickly walked up the hill and pulled the piece of paper from under the windshield wiper, hoping that someone from the store wasn’t playing some kind of joke on me.

The note smelled of perfume.

Her perfume.

It was from Marie.

It had to be!

I unfolded the paper and read the three words that she had written;

“Hot car, Cowboy!!!”

Hot car.

Cowboy.

Cowboy; that’s how I knew the note was from her.  No one else called me that.  Marie had called me “Cowboy” that second time that we were together.  She had told me that in a different time that I would have been a Cowboy, hat, horse and all.  Her Cowboy.  She had given me a hickey, saying that she had branded me so that Pam would know that I was taken, spoken for, … owned, by her.  I looked around the parking lot but I didn’t see her car anywhere.  I looked out at the traffic on the highway but the big gold Lincoln was nowhere in sight.  I held the note up again to reread it.

Cowboy. 

It was Marie’s nickname for me and she used it often.  I looked at the note, lifted it to my nose and breathed deep.  It smelled of paper and … her perfume.  

It smelled of her.  

Flowers.  

Flowers far away, carried on the wind.  There, just below her writing, was the perfect outline of her lips, done in lipstick.  She must have pressed the paper to her lips before leaving it.  Parts of me stirred in remembrance of what those lips could do and how they felt when they were pressed against my lips, against other parts of my body, against my bare skin.  I put her note in my shirt pocket and walked back into the store.  Every now and then, when I got a chance, I’d take the note out, read it again, and smell it again just to get a whiff of her perfume.  Thoughts of her carried me on through my work shift, naughty thoughts.

Thoughts of desire for her.

Marie called later that night, asking me to come by her apartment when I got off work.  Hearing her voice again … knowing that I was going to see her again, soon, tonight.

Hell, yes!

I got off work, freshened up, changed my dirty work shirt for a fresh button up tan expedition shirt I kept in the back of the TA and headed over to her apartment.  She wanted to see the TA and after I showed the Pontiac to her she wanted to go out cruising.  We ended up driving around Hattiesburg in the TA, windows down, T-tops off and air conditioning cranked up high.  We ate at Sonic on Fourth Street and after about an hour more of cruising we went back to her apartment and I spent the night in her bed making up for lost time … making up for nearly five weeks of lost time.

Five weeks without Marie; it was the longest that I’d ever gone without seeing her and it had felt like an eternity.  Apparently she felt the same way if I could take how she acted when our clothes came off as any kind of indicator.

I was Marie’s Cowboy.

Yippee ki yi yay.

Ride 'em, cowgirl!

The next morning we had an early breakfast at the Waffle House there on Highway 98 west and went cruising again in the Trans Am.  T-tops off, windows down, Marie in a red strapless sundress, Wayfarers on, wind blowing her long hair as that big V8 rumbled under the hood.

The Kenwood was tuned to WHSY Rock 104.5 FM and Sammy Hagar's "There's only one way to rock" saw us out of Hattiesburg.  The Scorpions “Rhythm of Love” started playing on the radio after that.  We cruised out west towards Columbia, down the really bad two lane highway known as “Bloody 98”.  Somewhere near Oloh, Marie undid her seatbel, grabbed the roof's center T-bar and slid over into my lap, just like Pam had done months before when she and I had first started cruising.  Marie put her arms around me and her head on my left shoulder as I drove.  Every now and then she would reach up, stroke my cheek or neck, and kiss me.

Sometimes a quick kiss, sometimes a longer kiss.

I could smell her perfume.

The wind through the open tops and rolled down windows blew her long hair back, waving it in the air currents.  I caught myself looking at her more often than not.  Often she would look at me, longingly.  She said very few words, but she touched me a lot.  Her fingers on my chin, on my cheek, the back of her hand stroking the side of my face, her finger tracing my lips ... slowly, softly.  I loved driving around with Marie beside me ... it was just the two of us, alone, together and the rest of the world could go to hell for all I cared.  As long as I was with Marie I had everything that I needed.

I drove one handed, left hand on the steering wheel and left arm supporting Marie, wrapped around her, right hand on her waist, sometimes on her thigh.  I slowly bunched up her dress with my right hand, grabbing it and pulling it up, inch by inch, working it slowly up around her knees ... then over her knees and starting to draw it up over her thighs.  She smiled and slapped my hand playfully but when I continued she didn’t resist any more after that.  I took off my driving glove and used my right hand to rub her knee softly, my fingertips to her bare skin, then slowly slid my right hand up the inside of her right thigh.  My fingers went under the bunched up lower of her sundress, feeling the warm skin of her inner thigh and gently traced her panty line, slowly, lightly, the touch of my fingertip against the material of her panties, against her bare skin, tracing it across her waistline, down the crotch line, over near the bottom, and back up the other side.

“You’re going to have to pull over somewhere if you keep doing that.” She whispered in my ear, grabbing my head, pulling it to her and nibbling lightly on my ear lobe.

Her breath hot and fast in my ear.

My need for her stirring as she sat, as she wriggled in my lap.

“I’m a good driver.” I said.  “I don’t need to pull over.”

Marie let go of me, moved back over the center console (using the overhead T-bar for support) and sat back in the passenger seat.  It wasn't an easy move to do, not at highway speed, but Marie pulled it off with more grace and agility than I thought she could have.  She buckled her seat belt again and sat there, her head back in the cushion of the seat.  She gave me a mischievious look and slowly raised her sundress.  My gloved hand found the bare skin of her thigh again.  Somewhere just past Oloh I reached up and took the driving glove off my right hand then moved my now bare right hand over to her right leg.  She gave a little start as I touched her, ran my hand over her leg, up and down, and then slid my hand down between her legs to her groin.  Marie sat back in the passenger seat, spread her legs slightly and I petted her there, slowly, sensually, teasing her, then bringing my hand up to her waist line then slowly back down again across the material of her panties.  She moved there, in my lap, getting into a better position.  She leaned over into me then as I petted her, fingertips gliding over her groin, over the sheer material of her panties, down to her nature where the panties were stretched tight over her rise and fall.  I drove, left hand on the wheel, right hand down her panties and Marie sitting there in passenger seat, her left hand on top of my hand as I petted her with only the material of her panties separating her hand from mine.  I pulled my hand back, traced the elastic waist band of her panties then slipped my fingers behind, sliding my hand down into her panties.  Marie drew in a sharp breath as I felt her pubic hair under my fingertips, rough and smooth, course and fine.  I found her nature, ready, anticipating my attention.  Just a little bit of this and she was holding me tight, moaning and sighing. 

“God … you’re in trouble now, Cowboy.” She whispered, her breath starting to come faster and shallower now.

“You think so?” I asked her, again, smiling, darting my eyes from quick glances at the road ahead to longer glances at her beside me.

“Mmm-hmmm.  You’ve got my trouble brewing.” She said as she moved to a better position,  using her left hand to hold my right hand and guide it while I petted her.

Brewing was right … her anticipation was noticeable in her expression, in the sounds that she made in how she felt under my fingertips.  

Hot.  

Swollen.  

Wet.  

Slick.

“I want to be selfish, Cowboy.  Let me be selfish …” She whispered, closing her eyes.

I let her be selfish.

Marie moaned and began to work herself to match what I was doing to her.  She moved, slowly, back and forth, there in my lap.  Her eyes were closed, her lips pursed as I worked her with my hand, finding her core spot and never letting up once I found it.  Marie rode my hand there in my lap and it was everything that I could do to drive the Pontiac, keeping it straight on the two lane, and work with Marie to let her be selfish.  She moaned, deep, then rose up some in my lap, starting to move against my hand, starting to writhe and grind against my hand but I never let her slip off the spot that I’d found … the spot that was driving her, pushing her, to her edge.  Her right hand pressed hard on my right hand, separated by the material of her panties, my hand inside, her hand outside; she grabbed my hand, tried to move it, tried to guide it, and I let her.

Marie’s moans and sighs were adding a lot of interesting background vocals to AC-DC’s “Back In Black.”  Traffic passed us in the oncoming lane at breakneck speed, sometimes the driver’s expressions at seeing that black Pontiac roar by, Marie in my lap, her eyes closed, her mouth open and then we were gone in a roar and a flash, just there long enough for me to see their expressions and for them to see Marie’s expression.
 
55 mph. 

Just us, just me driving and Marie riding my hand to her own selfish glory.  I drove … enjoying her … casting quick glances when I could from the road to her and back again.  Her head was back, almost hanging out the window as we drove.  Her hair was caught in the wash of the Pontiac at speed, blowing behind her in the wind.  Eyes closed, mouth open, breath coming fast and shallow; her expressions told me that she had given herself over to the moment, that she was concentrating on building herself up to her release and that nothing else, right then, mattered to her in the least other than her own pleasure.

“Muh.” She said out loud, drew in a deep breath and kept on working herself against me.

AC-DC finished up and Loverboy started in with their “Working for the Weekend”.  The irony wasn’t lost on me.  Halfway through the song Marie gave a short little gasp and cry then shuddered against me.  She put her head into the left crook of my neck as she clamped her thighs together, tight and her body shook.  Hard, then soft.  She shook again, gave another little grunt and moan and shook again.

The Pontiac roared on as Marie sat there, in the passenger seat, my hand in her groin and the TA shaking with the vibration of the big V8 under the hood.  I let her ride her release out and waited until she had stopped shaking.

“Oui et voila?” I asked, glancing from the road to her and back to the road again.

Marie huffed loudly.

“You’re never going to let me live that down, are you, Cowboy?” she whispered, her breathing still heavy.

“Nope.” I said flatly, smiling.

The green display on the Kenwood radio said it was 9:33 AM.

“Oui et voila.” She said in a whisper.

Her thighs were still gripped around my hand and I let her compose herself before I slowly pulled my hand out of her panties.   I reached down, got my driving glove and put it back on my right hand.  We drove like that for a little while.  When I looked over at Marie she was looking out the passenger side … the wind was still blowing her hair but she was staring off into space, silently, lost in thought.  Where she was I didn’t know, only that she wasn’t with me right then.  Wherever she was, I hoped it was a good place.


We drove out to Columbia, took the old two lane Columbia-Purvis Road all the way down to Purvis.  In Purvis I stopped for gas and then we hit Highway 59 back to Hattiesburg.  We were gone almost an hour and a half all together and when we got back to her place I spent the rest of the afternoon with her, losing myself in her affection.

She never got to take her sun dress off that first time … I wouldn’t let her.  Afterwards we lay there, togther, holding each other.   Time meant nothing when I was with Marie ... it was like I was isolated from the rest of the world.  There, in her bed, holding her, bare skin to bare skin, the warmth of her body next to mine, the cool air from the overhead fan falling down on us.  Marie turned to look at me, putting her hands on my chest and resting her head on her hands, looking at me.

Marie was quiet ... contemplative.

“Why?” she asked at last.

“What?” I asked her.

“Why do you … ?” she started then stopped.

Whiskey brown eyes.

Staring.

Silence.

“What?” I asked her, curious, smiling because I really wasn’t sure what she was getting at.

“Why do you treat me like you do, when I’m with you?”

“Huh?  Whoa!  Did I do something wrong?” I asked, sitting up slightly, suddenly concerned that I’d done something wrong.

“No!  No.  Wrong words.  Sorry.  Why do you give me so much attention?  Why are you so good to me when I’m with you?”

“Do you want me to stop?” I asked her.

Marie quickly shook her head.

“No.  No, it’s not that.  Listen!  Please.  Just listen.  It’s just that … I’m not used to that … to this … to all of this.  It’s nice, really nice ... it’s just that I’m not used to someone … treating me like you’ve treated me … like you treat me.  I’m not used to it being like this.” She whispered.

I shrugged my shoulders, not really sure if I should say something or just keep my mouth shut and listen.  Erring on the side of caution, I chose the latter option.

“When you’re with me you take your time.  You touch me and hold me.  You don’t make me feel like … something.  You make me feel like … someone.  Does that make sense?  Am I even making sense?” she said.

“You’re my goddess.  I worship you.” I said, smiling at her.

“I’m … wait ...  your what?” Marie asked, surprised.

“You’re my goddess.”

“Goddess?  Wow.” She said, running her hand through her hair, pursing her lips and thinking.  “That’s a new one, Marie.  I don’t think you’ve ever been called that before.”

“Goddess.” I said.

“Goddess.  Yeah ... Sometimes it feels like that, it honestly feels like that.  It feels like you’re trying to worship me.”

“Good.” I said.  “It’s supposed to feel like that.”

Marie thought about that for a minute.

“I’ve been called a lot of things in my life but “goddess” certainly isn’t one of them.  I might could get used to that …” she said, giving a little laugh and smiling but I could tell she was still unsure.

“Get used to it.” I said.

“I just might.” She replied, giving a partial smile.

“You better.  You know, I can’t say that I’ve ever really had a goddess in my life before so all of this is kind of new to me, too.”

Marie harumphed in disagreement.

“You make it so easy.  To be with you, to let myself go when I’m with you.”

I laughed.

“What?” she asked, smiling, confused.

“It’s an act.” I told her.  “I’m just winging it as I go.”

Marie huffed and rolled her eyes.

“Right!  I doubt that.”

“It’s true.” I said.  “When I’m with you, I just … treat you like I think you want to be treated, I treat you like I think you need to be treated.  Making you happy makes me happy.  That’s the only rule I play by.”

“Bullshit.” She said flatly.

Part of me was shocked because I think that was the first time that I’d ever heard Marie use profanity.

“It’s true!” I said, laughing.

“Bull.  Shit.  You don’t play by any rules that I know of when we’re together, Cowboy.” She chided.

I sighed.

“Actually, yeah, I do.  I really do.  I play by lots of rules you just don’t ever see me playing by them.  When I’m with you, when I’m not with you, yeah, I’ve got rules.  Lots of rules and they more or less all revolve around you now.” I said.

I reached out and touched her face, stroked her cheek.

“I don’t think I understand …”

“You’re my goddess.  I worship you.” I said again.

“Okay.  Moving on past that part, I understand that part, kind of, but why do you worship me?  I mean, it’s like you put me on some pedestal.  Don’t get me wrong, I love it … God, I love it … I just don’t know how to respond to it sometimes but I love it.  It’s just that … I just wonder … why?”

“Why not?”

“That’s not an answer.  You can’t answer a question with a question."

"Whose rule is that?" I asked.

"That’s my rule, Cowboy.” She said.

“Okay.  How about because I can.  Is that a better answer?” I said.

“Yes, you can.” Marie said, smiling a little smile and whistling.  "Still doesn’t really answer my question or make it a better answer."

“Okay, if you’ll accept that, how about because I want to.”

Marie smiled then, not that smile, but the kind of smile that I knew she smiled when she was happy.

“I can accept that.”

“And because you’re worth it …”

“And … there’s the problem.  You see, I don’t believe that.”

“You don't believe that?  Why not?” I asked.

“I’m … not worth it.”

“God.” I said aloud.  “You’re being serious, aren't you?”

“Please … I’m not worth it.” Marie said flatly.

“You are.” I said.

“Am not.”

“Yes.  You are.  I do it ... I treat you like I do because you’re worth it … and because I want to.  If you weren't worth it I wouldn't be here.”

Marie looked at me then with her whiskey brown eyes and put her hand to the side of my face, rubbing me softly there.

“I guess when I’m with you I want you to know that there’s only you and no one else.  When I’m with you, you have my complete and undivided attention.  When I’m with you, Marie, you are the center of my universe.  Nothing else and no one else exists and it’s been that way pretty much since I first set eyes on you that day in the water park.  There you were, in that big Lincoln parked next to me, I saw you for the first time and I haven’t stopped thinking about you since.”

Marie’s eyes got a little wider.

“Is that how you feel?  How you really feel?” she asked.

I nodded.

“Is that how you really feel ... about me?”

I nodded because it was true.  Marie looked at me, our eyes met and held.