This piece is the third in a series of stories that are autobiographical. I've not listed names or places to protect the identity of the people involved. All of the events you will read are true. I kept a journal at the time, so the accuracy of what is contained in these stories is very good. Some of the dialog is seared in my memory and some of it is recreated based on the events, but is very much in keeping with the way we'd talk. There is probably less conversation in these stories than I should have -- we communicated a lot and would talk during sex -- sometimes to turn each other on, sometimes about dreams, desires and wants. I hope you enjoy the memories as much as I have enjoyed writing about them. - Author
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After camp I moved back to my parent's house for a short bit. My folks are great, but growing up they were the original WASP's and could be pretty uptight about things. After having been on my own for the past four years through college, I appreciated having a place to stay until the job I had lined up for mid-September started, but I chafed at some of the restrictions, including a fairly early curfew and some house rules about guests.
I'd told my folks about the fact that I'd met someone earlier in the summer at the training camp. When they asked what her name was, I told them and my dad's reply was, "You've got to be shitting me." (G's name was really a guy's name -- or at least it sounded like it.) I had to disabuse him of the notion that I was talking about a man, and that it actually was a woman I was involved with. If you know where I lived at the time, you'd understand the significance.
I had a job doing casual work that kept money coming in, which was particularly important considering what the pay was like at camp - even for an area director's position. In the evenings, I was spending my time poring over information about apartments in the area I was heading to, along with new car brochures as my current car kept having issues.
It was just after dinner time on a Thursday, and I was trying to decide on which apartments that I could afford to look at. My dad was reading the newspaper, and my mom was watching something on the television when the phone rang. My dad is - well - conservative with money. The phone was an old hard-wired AT&T wall phone with the retractile cord that was in place since the house was built in the early 1960's and they hadn't replaced it with a new version with a cordless handset -- it was still rotary dial, even!
My mom went to pick up the phone and I could hear her having a sort of awkward conversation with someone at the other end. You could tell that she was a bit uncomfortable. Finally she called me to the phone.
"Hello?"
"Oops. Hiya, sweet cheeks!" It was G on the phone. Somehow I wasn't surprised.
"What did you do?"
"Well, I asked for my sweet-assed man to come to the phone, but I guess your mom isn't like mine."
"Yeah, you could say that again." I hadn't warned her ahead of time and in hindsight I wished I had. My folks weren't talking about whatever G had said to my mom on the phone, so I figured I must be safe.
We caught up on what the other had been doing since our last call in the Medic's office at camp. Neither of us had written as we were both focused on other things -- me, on my impending move, and G on her return to college to finish her Master's degree. It was mostly mundane life stuff, but it was just nice to talk with her and hear her voice on the phone.
Then she started in on all the things that she wanted to do to me the next time we were together. I'm amazed that the phone cord wasn't melting. She then asked what I was planning to do to her.
"You already sound like you have a good list."
"That's it?" I could hear her disappointment over the phone.
"Mmmm-hmmm."
"Your folks are in the room, right?"
"They might as well be."
"Well, I guess I should get to the point", G said.
"What's that, beautiful?"
"This is your booty call. Literally. I'm calling for your booty. You're driving out here tomorrow and your sweet ass is mine for the weekend."
"I am? Uhhh, oh I _AM_!" I can be slow on the uptake. "Where are we staying, and when are we meeting?"
"We're staying here at the the 'rent's place and you're getting here as soon as you can, because you want my sweet pussy. We're gonna work on my list and you'd better think up your own. Come ready for anything, 'cos you know I don't disappoint."
I was slightly confused about how this was going to work at her parent's place, but I took down the address and some cursory directions from the highway. For the rest, Rand McNally was going to have to come to the rescue.
"I love you, G, and I'm looking forward to seeing you tomorrow."
"You know it. Love you, *MWAH!*"
With that, the line clicked off.
As I hung up the phone, my mom came back into the kitchen. She sidled over to me and whispered, "She sounds like a hot ticket!"
"You got that right, mom."
She asked about my plans and I divulged the basics -- I'd be leaving in the morning heading to stay at my girlfriend's parent's house and I'd be back either Sunday night or sometime Monday depending on how things worked out. I went up to my room to put some things together for the weekend as my mom broke the news to my dad, smoothing things over a bit in the process.
As I grew older, I later found out that my mom had been a "hot ticket" herself in her youth. Friends of my mom's eventually let things spill about her. She'd been a beauty queen in a few local pageants and was a popular girl. She had become a nurse (as had her friends), and they'd all headed out to a big city where they worked together. It sounded like they liked to party. Life is full of surprises.
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The next morning I loaded my duffle bag into the car, gassed it up and headed out toward G's house. It was going to be a pretty long drive, but I figured I'd be there by about lunch time. My car had other ideas.
As I was headed to G's, the car's engine started to buck a bit when I was about halfway there. I managed to get off the highway and nurse the car to a local garage.
The guy at the garage didn't seem happy to see me. He was a balding, heavy-set guy with massive hands, covered in grease from head to toe and smoking a stub of a massive cigar that smelled absolutely terrible. He said was already pretty busy and would look at the car and see what he could do after he finished what he was working on. I was stranded, and I really didn't want to rock the boat.
After waiting for maybe two hours, I poked my head into the shop bay from the greasy coffee area with slippery red vinyl stools which doubled as a waiting room. I let the mechanic know I had an important appointment that I needed to get to this afternoon that was still a fair distance from here. He looked at me and asked how important the appointment was. (I figured he was sizing me up to see how much he could overcharge me.) I looked him in the eye and simply said, "Pussy." He roared with laughter and told me he'd get right on it.
True to his word, he headed out to the car and after a little bit of poking and prodding, changed out some spark plug wires and the distributor. With the car running smoothly again, and a much smaller bill than I anticipated, I left him with a generous tip. He told me, "You might not believe it, but I was once young, too, you know. Go enjoy yourself, young man. I wish I was in your shoes today!"
I hit the road again and as I got closer the anticipation of what awaited me started to roll around in my head. It was a bit distracting as I drove and I had to rip myself back from the daydreams that were going on in my head to keep from getting killed before I arrived. Still, no matter how hard I tried to get my head back in the driving game, I was distracted and it was hard not to notice that my jeans were unusually restrictive.
I got off the highway, and managed to find G's house, navigating the local suburbia with little difficulty. The directions were really better than I thought, as brief as they were. As I pulled up, I noticed that the garage doors were open, but no cars were there. I pulled to a paved spot to the side of the driveway and parked. The anticipation was back, swirling through my mind. I grabbed the duffle and some flowers that I'd picked up along the way and headed to the front door.
*Ding-Dong!*
There was a slight delay and I heard some rustling behind the door and it swung open. A completely naked G was standing on the mat in the entry hallway striking a pose for me. I stopped to admire the view with a wink and a smirk on my face before I stepped across the threshold closing the door behind me.
She virtually launched herself at me clinging on and mashing my lips with hers. When we finally came up for air, I started to drop the duffle bag and the flowers so that I could return the embrace. "Oh, no you don't." she replied. "This is part of my fantasy. You need to be holding your bag."
She then took the flowers and set them aside on a table. "Oh, poor dead things." (Lesson learned -- live plants ok. Cut flowers? Not so much.) She grabbed something that I couldn't see from the table and was on her knees in front of me in a flash. G unbuckled my belt and undid the jeans I as wearing, pulling underwear and pants to my knees in one swift motion, my erection springing forth.
"You're late. Was work hard today, dear?"
Work? My mind spun a bit, but I rolled with it. "Yeah, really rough day at the office --you know how it gets."
"Let me take that briefcase. I'll make you feel better." She reached for my duffle.
Briefcase? I'm slow on the uptake, but I saw the pattern that was emerging. "You always make me feel better, gorgeous. That smoking body and dirty mind do it for me."
She grasped a hand around my shaft and stroked slowly, looking up into my eyes. "How was your boss, today, was she... hard... on you?"
