Chapter 35: Justine and Justine
Justin was in line at the paint ball arena to check in his equipment when he saw the fine ass plastered with his blue volley. It was a very fine ass and he had shot him there on purpose and shot him again as he turned.
Justin heard an "Arrrgh" before seeking shelter but he lasted just two more minutes before a girl got him in the balls. The guy's girlfriend he assumed.
While in line the guy with the fine butt turned around and saw him and said, "That must have hurt," he said referring to the yellow blotch on his groin.
"Nah, just a glancing blow. Was it a friend of yours?"
"No, I was on the red team." Justin felt emboldened and began to flirt but before he got to his best lines the opponent took the helmet off. It was a girl.
His sentence trailed off as his face registered disappointment.
"Am I that ugly?"
"No, for a girl you look terrific."
"Then why..... Oh, you were trying to pick up a guy. Sorry about that."
"Oh no. I am sorry. I should have known that such a beautiful butt could not belong on a guy. As you have deduced I'm gay."
"No problem there. I'm gay."
After taking their coveralls off and handing off the rental equipment they walked to the arena's small cafe together.
Justin said, "Let me buy you a coffee to make up for defiling your butt."
"My butt demands you apologize with some onion rings and a Dr. Pepper instead."
"Well, OK you bully."
Then as an aside to no one he said, "Ha, she fell into my ploy."
"Who are you talking to?"
"Oh, our audience."
She looked into empty space and said, "Oh, hi. I like rich men with flat tummies that would take me shopping everyday."
"Wow, you are good. Actress?"
"Well, OK. Is she rich?"
"No sorry. How about I get you a Dr. Pepper and onion rings."
"Well. OK, you bully."
They were grinning widely before they made it to the counter. Justin got a coke and french fries instead of coffee and they sat to chat.
"So, do you come here often," she asked in a flirtatious manner.
Justin gave her a fake offended look and answered tartly, "No, and I will never come here again. Those suits they have us wear lie to us."
"You are not the only one to think I was a guy. I still don't know how I feel about that."
"Well, out of that suit you look all girl to me. Yes, you are what, Five-ten? But the rest of you is pure girl."
"Thank you, I think. You are handsome and at least six-one so you should not have too difficult a time finding my replacement."
"It's frustrating, I had hoped to find someone to go to a concert with me tonight but my gaydar picked today to go boinkers."
""What concert?"
"The Cranberries."
"I can dress like a guy."
"Are you serious?"
"Yes, I love The Cranberries but there were no tickets available by the time I found out they were coming."
"I have two seats, I don't like being on the floor."
"I don't either. Whats your name?"
"Justin, and yours?"
He had to wait for her to stop laughing then heard her say, "Justine."
"No."
"Yes. But verbally lazy close friends call me Judy."
"Well, Judy is a fine name and I am an overall lazy guy."
Yet he never called her Judy. She didn't look like a Judy and she didn't feel like a Judy, she looked like a Justine he thought.
She was pretty, with short brown hair that framed her face well. Aside the beautiful butt she had tits with presence, not large but perfectly shaped. Her hand were nearly as big as his and he wondered what that meant in women.
He liked her.
Justine did think he was handsome and she would have never picked him out as gay until he confessed. He did do a flaming queen well she thought. He was slim but she could tell he had muscles. He moved like an athlete.
She liked him.
They got to know each other that afternoon and learned they had a lot in common. Neither had a partner at that time and neither had ever kept a partner for more than three weeks and the last of those had been many months before.
Both were twenty-eight years old and had left home the night they graduated from high school and had never returned. Their sexual orientation had made living at home a hellish proposition. Each however had the love and support of a grandmother.
Both had worked their way through college and both were teachers, he biology, she math. Before he asked she said, "No, I don't coach. I was never an athlete."
"You must have been asked?"
"Yes, but working and studying did not leave me anytime to play. How about you. You look like an athlete."
"Recreational softball, no pun intended. I do like baseball and watch games on TV."
"I love baseball," Justine said.
As they talked they noticed they shared the same somewhat outrageous sense of humor. Neither missed a line the other threw at them.
The conversation went from dead Norwegian Blue parrots to a discussion on whether Generalsimo Franco was still dead.
Justin greeted her request not to cry for her Argentina with a stunned expression and the question, "Why should I cry for you? And how did you know my friends all call me Buenos Aires?"
"You smell good." She said as she batted her eyelashes.
Actually he did.
They were getting along so well it came as a shock when they realized they needed to hurry to the concert venue.
He drove the twenty city miles at a not too terribly insane speed and got there in time but the lights in the concert hall had been lowered before they got to their seats so he held her hand and guided her.
Neither said anything when their hands stayed together much longer than necessary after they sat and did not release them until they stood to applaud their welcome to the artists.
They very much enjoyed the concert and both silently lip synched their way through their entire playlist. Both could sing but knew people around them didn't come there to hear them. They wished everyone else had felt the same.
As they joined in on the ovation at the end of the show Justine grabbed Justin's head and kissed his lips hard.
She said, "Thank you, thank you, thank you. This has been the best concert ever," then kissed him again.
