Late September back in 67, I was on the prowl. I had managed to get a really good fake ID which let me into a number of clubs. I really was only just eighteen, but "mature looking," as I was once told. What was left of summer was going, autumn was well and truly coming, warm days, cooler nights. My summer job, and my part time work through the previous two years bought me a 10 year old VW Bus that hadn't been ruined by a bunch of hippies pretending to be artists.
I had fitted the rear cabin with a really thick sponge and some sheets adding both a rear window curtain and a curtain right behind the front seat. This was done entirely for fucking. I told my parents that it was really for me to get away camping, doing some surfing, or getting up to the Rockies but reality was, I wasn't interested in those things unless there was someone to fuck while I was doing them.
I had only just fitted the sponge mattress, after cleaning the back with degreaser and then hot, soapy water, leaving it to dry for a couple of days. I painted the inside panels with a sky blue. There was no roof panelling in the flatbed model, so I found one in a local car salvage yard, drilled some holes and fitted it. Not a great job but it worked. Total cost, thirty-five bucks - which was a shitload of money then, but worth it, I thought. I hadn't broken it in yet, but I was all prepared for it.
The night was too cool for a Tee, and I would never have gotten into this club with one on anyway. I parked the van and, being a Thursday, there was no line up, so I went inside. The bouncer on the door looked at me as I tried to walk past, "Got some ID there buddy?"
I just gave him that look of "why are you dicking me around shit-for-brains". I nodded and kept walking.
"I still gotta see it!" So I stopped, reached into my wallet, then gave him a "you're a dickhead if you think I am under 21" look, and showed him my fake drivers license. I wouldn't get away with that if I was giving it to police, even the thick local cops would bust my ass, but this guy didn't even touch it, he checked the date and said, "OK, but we gotta check everyone." I nodded and then ignored him.
Arrogance will get you further in clubs anyway. They remember you next time, so you won't have to go through the charade again. The lights were dimmed, there was spinning mirror, not the disco ball that was about to become famous, but a mirror with colored glass and a reflected light to shine on the ceiling. Then, that was seriously cool man, believe it or not. I specifically went to this place, on the Thursday night, not because this was really at the start of the club revolution, but because here was a lot of women, terribly old women, some even in their mid- to late-thirties. This was a place called, "grab a grannie" by the younger men that went there, regularly. It was full of married women on the prowl, cougars they call them now, but then it was just women who wanted to get laid by someone not their husband. The music was playing loudly and there were a lot of women, for sure; there were far fewer men than women, but older men. I looked again and saw they were actually older than the women. Husbands, maybe? Old queens? There were not too many young bucks like me around, but it was still early.
It was actually funny watching one overweight guy, seriously florid in the face, trying to dance, and I use that word loosely, with this girl who was obviously bored with him. Then his toupee started slipping. Fuck, this poor bastard just wasn't going to turn a trick that night. I didn't bother to go and rescue her, I thought, fuck her, she ain't that good looking. The music finished and this guy nearly collapsed in a heap. What looked to me like a heart attack was brewing. The music started again and this guy started jiggling again, I wasn't going to hang around there to watch, so I moved towards the bar.
There was an old woman there, alone, at the bar. She looked to me to be about mid-30s, alone and while she wasn't wearing a ring, you could see where it had been. She was actually quite attractive, nice body, firmed by a hugging dress, maybe so I went over and asked for a Coke. The bartender gave me a funny look, so I just said, I was driving to the midwest early in the morning, and didn't want a hangover. He opened a bottle and poured it into a glass, I paid, then the woman looked at me, and said, "So you're a traveller."
"I am tomorrow." Bullshit, but I didn't want to let her know that.
"Going to be away for long?"
"Just a week, maybe ten days, depends."
"Depends?"
"If it is interesting or not."
"What would be interesting?"
"Writer's workshops, then a conference and then more workshops." Those workshops were real, but I couldn't pay for them, so wasn't going.
"So you are a writer?"
"Not yet, but I want to be." Then to be a writer, you had to be published, magazines, newspapers, books were the ultimate. No internet then. I had a battered old Remington typewriter, a monster of a thing, heavy but it went where I did.
"What do you write?"
"Well, so far, nature stories, human drama-"
"Porn," she laughed.
"You mean "Lady Chatterley's Lover" porn. Or perhaps Henry Miller?" I replied.
"No, I mean good old fashioned hard-core pornography. Guy-girl, or guys-girls?"
I smiled, "Nah, Playboy said I was too tame." She laughed, and I thought this was too good an opportunity to miss. "Besides, we write best about things we know a lot about. And I am still researching that topic."
Again she laughed, and I really listened to it this time, a little forced laugh. We settled into friendly conversation, suggestive banter that grew more and more suggestive. The girl who was dancing with the toupee guy came and sat next to her and quietly said that she had enough of that guy. I bought a couple of drinks for them, and the conversation continued. I finally asked their names, the dancer said, "Molly," and the drinker said, "Helen."
"Pleased to meet you ladies, I'm David." I asked Helen if she wanted to dance, she nodded. We moved to the dance floor, then the lights went even more dim and the music slowed. By this time, the place was seriously crowded, which surprised me for a Thursday night. Obviously ladies night. The dance floor was a full of women dancing with each other. Helen got closer, wrapped her arms around me and pulled me even closer. I thought any closer and it won't matter about the clothes.
The music played through and Helen quietly spoke in my ear, "Are you going to take me outside and have sex with me?"
I was somewhat surprised, and replied, "I can't say I hadn't thought about it. I have a van, with a mattress, be a lot more comfortable than just going outside."
"Are you a boy-scout?"
I smiled, "No, but I thought I better be prepared."
I held her hand and walked her back to the bar, she grabbed her bag and then over the music, "Come with us, Molly." What? Molly looked up and then at me, and I looked at her, surprised.
"Why not?" I shrugged, after all, it wouldn't be the first threesome I had, just never with two women before. She picked her purse up and the three of us left the club. I led them down the street, around the corner. I stopped at the side of the microbus and opened the sliding door. I had a torch set up to shine off the roof, so turned it on. Molly and Helen got in, I followed them and slammed the door, locking it.