A lot of me went into this story. A lot of it is true. Back in the late fifties, western Montana was a wild place to be and the girls were just as wild as the country. I guess I just want to remember almost how it was.
Ironworker
He slid down the steel column from the third deck to the ground. Quitting time! His favorite time of day. "See ya tomorrow, Johnny," he said as he headed for his truck. He took off his tool belt and dumped it into the built in tool box, jumped in the cab and sped off to the motel. He loved these out-of-town jobs. He was in Kalispell, Montana erecting a big storage facility. He had been there for two weeks and he estimated he had another six weeks to go to completion.
He opened the door to the motel room and flopped down on the bed. He rested there for half an hour, then rose and got into the shower. Iron work was hard, dangerous, dirty work. He scrubbed his body clean. "Time to eat," he thought.
He got in his truck and drove to the diner. It was a typical small town eatery. It wasn't big, but the food was good and there was plenty of it. He had a big T-bone steak, chocolate malt and apple pie for desert. After the meal he drove back out toward the job site, parked and just sat watching the river flow past. He saw a few trout jump and resolved to come back tomorrow with his fishing gear.
The sun was going down so he drove back into town. On the other side of town was a bar, The Green Lantern. As he walked in the door he was greeted by some of his crew and the bartender. He was well known on the local bar circuit. He sat at the bar and guzzled the first beer of the evening.
Half an hour later one of the local sluts came into the bar and sat on the barstool next to him. "Buy a lady a drink, hon?" she asked.
"I might if one ever shows up," he sneered. The slut was one of many sperm receptacles that inhabited the bar circuit. He had seen her many times and even screwed her once when things got desperate.
He was just about to leave and go to the next bar when a new, very pretty face walked in. The face sat atop a body that was to die for. Nice big, round tits, a wasp waist and super-fine round little butt. He stopped dead in his tracks and watched as she approached.
"See something you like?" she asked.
"Oh, hell yeah," he replied. "Do you want a drink?"
"Sure," she answered. "I want a rum and coke."
The drink was ordered quickly and they sat at the bar and talked. She was very easy to talk to. "So what are you doing in this bar? It's kind of a rough place," he asked.
"Maybe I'm looking for a kind of rough guy," she answered. "What's your name?"
"I'm Benny, Benny Joseph," he replied.
"I'm Kate Thompson." She stuck out her hand. He took it and shook it lightly. "Your hands are rough, but your touch is gentle," she remarked.
"I'm an ironworker. We're building that storage facility out on the river."
She squeezed his bicep. "Oooh, hard. I like that!" she exclaimed. She looked him over more carefully. He was only 5'9" but he had no fat at all on his well defined body, at least the parts she could see. He had several scars on his hands and his nose looked like it had been broken more than once. "Do you get in a lot of fights?" she asked.
"Only when I'm not dancing," he laughed.
"Now here's a guy who can take care of himself," she thought. "What are you doing later?" she asked.
"Usually I have a few beers and if there isn't any action, I go home and go to sleep. I have to be up early in the morning."
"What kind of 'action' do you expect to find?"
"You never can tell out here in these little bars."
The band took to the stage for the first time that evening and started playing some country songs. When their first break came the lead singer came over to Benny and said, "You want to sing a little tonight?"
"Sure, why not?" said Benny.
