Mr. "Non-Descript" gripped the steering wheel with white knuckle intensity as we drove below the speed limit to Brewer's Gym.
"Don't want to waste gas." Mr. "Tight Wad" preached.
The adage "time is money" popped into my head but I kept silent. His "save money" principals were carved in stone like the Ten Commandments, irrefutable and biblical in their proportions.
With a line of traffic behind us, our torturously slow advance to the gym continued. California drivers are not a patient lot and car horns were trumpeting their displeasure. A sudden desire to force my foot onto the gas pedal gripped me but it took all of my will power to exercise self control.
Mr. "Indy 500" was totally unfazed by all the commotion and truthfully, I've seen corpses with more animation.
When we pulled into the gym parking lot, I jumped out of the car and ran inside. As I waited for the receptionist, Mr. "White Bread" entered and stood next to me.
"Ray, you don't have to wait" I said with irritation.
"Oh, I don't mind" He said in bland rebuttal.
Before I had a chance to continue arguing, the receptionist appeared and I handed her the gift certificate.
"I'm sorry Mr. Poole but the certificate entitles you to a Monday, Wednesday and Friday membership." She said with a note of real regret.
Mr. "El Cheapo" immediately got to his feet and started arguing with the young woman. I was astonished, the cadaver came to life. Anything that involved money and its usage was the stimuli that excited him. It was readily apparent who had purchased the gift in the first place.
The manager appeared and tried to restore some semblance of order. But, "Old Tight Ass" was on a mission and argued like a desperate defense attorney who's client faced the death penalty.
"Ray, shut up! I bellowed.
Mr. "Pinch Penny" had a startled and hurt look on his face.
"It's my gift, I'll handle this!" I declared with conviction.
In a minute or less, the manager and I reached a compromise. A one hour introductory session was offered as a solution and it left everyone smiling except for "you know who."
Mr. "Pain in the Ass" was sitting in the reception area with a sorrowful/dejected look on his face. Despite my pleas for him to leave, he insisted on waiting.
A pretty and blonde exercise tech in her late twenty's explained each exercise and the equipment in detail. As I looked up at her from my reclining position on the chest press machine, she reminded me of a young Megan.
The golden hair, "girl next door" looks and athletic build were raising my temperature. I thought about Megan and the summer of my sexual enlightening...
After my introduction to Megan's hot muscular body on graduation night, I became her willing and studious pupil. My first taste of pussy had me ravenous for more and she saw to my needs on a regular basis.
Megan delighted in teaching me the proper techniques and methods. However, with only two weeks until the start of our college careers, intercourse was the only act left to be taught.
One very sultry night, I ran into Davis at Via's Pizzeria. His eyes were bloodshot and betrayed recent pot smoking. Because of my relationship with Megan, I had seen little of him all summer.
"Hey man! How's it hangin?" he drawled in a pot affected voice.
I gripped his hand in the customary handshake of the times.
"Good to see you man!" I stated with enthusiasm.
"How's Megs the muscle woman?" he inquired with interest.
I expected Megan to arrive any minute from her five mile run. But, before I had a chance to answer, his glassy eyes grew wide with excitement.
"Man, I got accepted to PSU at the last minute! I'm going in the fall!" He exclaimed with glee.
Davis and I at PSU, look out coeds! He gave me enough pot for a few joints and we made plans to drive the three plus hours to PSU together.
Megan walked in and when she saw Davis, embraced him. She was fond of Davis and fond of the weed he generously shared with us.
"Hi Megs, how've you been." He asked with sincerity.
Davis was the only friend she allowed to call her Megs.
"Never better." She stated with positive energy.
Davis was relating his PSU story when a buxom brunette came up behind him and put her arms around his skinny waist then rested her head on his back.
"Hey Molly, you remember Megan and Poole?" He asked in a sweet voice.
The unattractive and large breasted girl nodded in the affirmative but her eyes had the same glassy look as Davis'. After some brief chit chat, they left to attend a summer concert at the "A" Field.
Davis had found his sexual teacher. Molly was the girl voted "Most Likely to Expose Herself At A Party" an honor she willing accepted. An insatiable cock hound, she was the go to girl for blow jobs at most of the parties. How she and Davis hooked up was a mystery.
Via's Pizzeria was mobbed as usual but we managed to find a table in the back. Megan's face had a pensive and circumspect expression.
"Poole, I need to talk to you about something." She stated in a serious tone.
At that moment a group of rowdy patrons entered and the decibel level rose dramatically. It was impossible to have a conversation let alone an important one.
After we ate, we drove to Megan's house and snuck into the 2nd floor of the garage. The entire time the look on her face showed deep concern. We sat on the floor facing each other and she was unusually quiet.
"Poole, we start college in less than two weeks and..." her voice trailed off.
I was staring at her waiting for her to go on when it hit me right between the eyes.
"Megan, you don't have to say. I understand." I said with total honesty.
It was impossible to maintain a relationship separated by the continental United States. Megan's head hung low and I saw tears forming in her eyes.
"It doesn't change the fact that I love you." I stated with feeling.
