Emily and Matt: A Summer Lovin Story
Author's note: Here is my entry into the 2024 Summer Lovin contest, and this is a slight departure from some of my other stories. Neither main character is described physically. This is intentional as I leave it to the reader to form their own imagery. I do not want to say he looks like some hunky actor, or she's a spitting image of some model. I've always found such descriptions both tedious and pretentious, not to mention incredibly unoriginal. If you need an actual image, I suggest you visit a photo-sharing site like Flickr or Instagram. I was told once that the brain is our most erotic organ, and I fully agree with that. Enjoy my story using whatever images you feel most likely defines my characters.
"C'mon, Barkie, let's go!" the powerful male voice commanded using Matt Barker's nickname. "We're going to Red's, all of us."
"You guys go, I'm gonna pass on this one," came the strained reply.
"Oh, no, dude," the powerful voice retorted, "we all agreed, tonight we go to Red's for darts, and who knows maybe find some pussy."
"Nah, I'm not up to it."
"Not up to it? Dude, summer's flying by and you've been out once? twice? I mean come on; don't you at least owe your dick something?"
The first speaker, Josh Hundley, was the organizer. He'd make the plans for the guys who lived in the house off DuBois Street. He'd make the plans and then coax the other four guys to fall in line. He wouldn't take a "no" from anyone without first putting up a multi-faceted argument to the contrary. Matt Barker, the reluctant attendee, knew he'd eventually give in, but his goal was to demonstrate to his friend that he'd go of his own free will and not just because someone like Josh Hundley expected it.
"All right, I'll go," came Matt's less-than-enthusiastic reply.
Matt agreed to go, but not because he felt he owed anything to his penis. True, he had broken up with his girlfriend just before the spring semester ended, and hadn't been serious with anyone since, but Matt wasn't into one-night stands or the other types of hook-ups common amongst today's college crowd. Truth was, though Matt would never admit it to his housemates, he was a romantic. He was someone who would take an interest in a girl, nurture a relationship, find commonalities, have three or four dates and then have sex, but only in that order. He wasn't a prude or a "good boy" or even religious, he just felt comfortable if the relationship followed a linear path, with "relationship" being the operative word.
On the other side of the conversation was Josh, the sweet talker who could charm a girl into bed (at least certain types of girls), seemingly at will. Sex was the goal, and Josh was the ultimate hunter. He didn't care about relationships any more than he cared about the classes he took. He'd score three times in a week and skip classes just as often. His grades reflected his lifestyle, and he knew his college days were numbered. But so long as there were willing female partners to satisfy his urges, he'd stick around for another semester.
"All right, now you're talking," came Josh's pleased response. "Come on, guys, let's get to Red's before Matt backs out again."
Two other guys joined the group who walked the five blocks to Red's. Each of them had summer jobs so they could pay their rent and have money for nights out. They all ranged in age from twenty-two to twenty-five. None were studious enough to bother with summer terms, but none wanted to return home to parents and house rules for the summer, either.
The group made their way to Red's talking loudly and laughing louder. On occasion one would grab another and put him in a headlock or shove someone into the oncoming path of a young lady, but they eventually made it to Red's intact, showed their identification, and entered the crowded bar.
They found a table large enough for all and Josh went to the bar to place the first order for beer. He returned, followed a minute or two later by their waitress who placed four cans and four glasses before the guys.
"Pay now or do you want to start a tab?" she asked.
"Tab," Josh answered. He offered her his credit card and she walked away to another table of rowdy guys.
Matt looked at the waitress. There was something familiar about her, but he couldn't quite place the face. She was not unattractive but did not have any standout features that Matt's mind could recall at this moment. Truth was, she looked like any one of maybe fifty girls he knew from around campus, or the office where he worked, or even friends of his sister. He thought about her for a minute or two, then joined the conversation.
While any of the guys in the group would easily walk away from the others if the right girl came along, tonight none were really on the prowl for female company, though Josh had a radar that did not have an "off" setting. Tonight was a chance to get out and enjoy a summer evening with three weeks to go before classes resumed.
They talked of guy stuff, which means they bullshitted each other, bragged about doing things they never did, and talked with authority on football, baseball, women, sex, and how great they performed their work tasks and how stupid their managers were. In other words, they did nothing but exchange lies all night long.
As the evening wore on, the guys at the next table were getting drunker and more obnoxious. The waitress put up with their sexual innuendo and artfully dodged the stray hand that went for her waist or her backside. One of the guys caught Matt's attention when he boldly declared that he was ready to "fuck the little bitch the next time she brought their latest round."
"Hey, sweetie!" the drunk slurred as the waitress came without any more beer.
"You guys have had enough, Craig at the bar says no more for you," she explained.
"Bullshit!" the drunk responded.
"Sorry, no more," the waitress replied.
"Oh, come here," he said as he reached for her arm. Grabbing it, he pulled her close. "Beer makes my dick hard, wanna feel it?"
The waitress had seen this before. She'd seen it too many times and knew how to get out of his grasp. She stomped on his foot which elicited a howl from the drunk.
"Hey, cunt!" the drunk began as he stretched his arms.
Matt was watching the scene unfold. He was about to step in when a bouncer came over.
"You!" the bouncer growled at the drunk, "Get out. NOW! Consider this your one and only warning."
The drunk looked at the new arrival and then back to the waitress. The bouncer outweighed him by twenty pounds. His companions, each in a varying state of drunkenness, decided not to push the issue and headed towards the door. The drunk reached the door but looked back one last time and watched the waitress heading for another table as if nothing had happened. He exited the bar.
Matt watched the scene unfold, though none of his companions were even aware there had been trouble. They were so engaged in their guy talk that any voices from other tables simply became white noises. Matt thought harder about the waitress.
"Emily Saunders," he said out loud.
Josh looked at Matt. "You say something? Who's Emily Rogers?"
"The waitress," Matt began, "she's Emily Saunders. She was in my American history class."
"History? What kind of moron takes a history class?" Josh retorted.
"Fuck face," Matt replied to Josh, "it's my major."
"Goddamn, dude," Josh laughed, "why the fuck are you a history major? Girls don't take history classes."
"Not the ones you know. Hell, the girls you know can't even spell history."
"The girls I know suck dick, and if you had any brains, you'd cut the history shit and get yourself laid."
A new waitress came to ask if the guys wanted anything else.
"Where's Emily?" Matt asked.
"She's off at eleven, I'm your new server."
"Eleven?" Josh asked. "Oh, shit, I gotta be to work at six. Guys, I'm calling this one over." He turned to the new server and asked her to settle up the tab.
They took out their wallets and gave what they believed to be their portion of the tab. Matt was relieved the night was over. Josh might be arrogant and egotistical, but he drove delivery and knew he needed a clear head in the morning. Matt led the way to the door ahead of his companions. He walked out into the warm summer evening.
Outside, he saw Emily who was confronted by the drunk. Evidently he had left the bar but had hung around to wait for Emily.
"Leave me alone, please," Emily said, a noticeably fearful tone to her voice.
