Steve's sexual initiation came during the summer of his 18th year.
Except for his youth, there wasn't anything terribly appealing about him; the girls in his town were unimpressed and made that plain anytime he'd try to talk to them. After a while Steve would get tired of ridicule and rejection and retreat back into his nice safe shell.
So there he was, a skinny, nerdy barely-eighteen year old with a normal sex drive and no one to take it out on except himself.
All that changed that night in late September 1997. Thinking back, he still remembered what a nice night it had been; summer weather just starting to shade into fall, a nice breeze rattling the leaves of the elm tree outside his window. He'd had his bare feet up on the desk and could feel the breeze tickling the hair on his shins.
It was Friday night, but as usual he had nowhere to go and no one to spend it with. His mom was off with her friends, celebrating their survival of another week at work.
He had his keyboard and mouse balanced on his lap, but no, he wasn't watching porn. He was trying valiantly to keep his squad of paratroopers alive through another German ambush. On the stereo speakers, The Rollins Band was drowning out his soldiers' calls for help, but he already knew just how much trouble they were in.
During a pause between screaming tracks of Henry, Steve heard a ringing other than the ringing in his ears and cursed loudly. Pushing buttons frantically he paused the music, paused the game and ran for the cordless phone. As usual it wasn't on its charging base and he tore off on a search mission, tracking in on the ringing.
The laundry room, of course. Where else would a mom leave a phone? "Hello? Hello?" he said, gasping for air.
A woman's voice laughed in the background, then said, "Steven honey, are you okay? You sound..."
"I'm fine, Mom. I was just racing for the phone. You having fun?"
She laughed again. "Oh honey, we are havin' great fun." She sounded a little drunk. "How about you, are you havin' fun?" Before he could answer, she went on. "Stevie honey, would you do me a little favor?"
"Uh, sure. What can I do for you?"
"Well, I'm afraid I went an' had a little more to drink than I was supposed to." Raucous laughter in the background greeted that statement and he guessed she'd had a lot more to drink.
"Ah'm still okay to drive, but maybe it's best not to have to explain that to our local police friends. Could you be a sweetie and give your mom a ride home?"
"Mom, all I've got here is the dirt bike. I don't think I can get you home on that."
She stifled a laugh. "Stevie, you don't have to get me home on that. All you have to do is get here an' drive me home in my own car. We can fetch your bike tomorrow after you sleep till noon."
"Oh, yeah."
"Maybe I should drive. Maybe ah am less drunk than you."
"No, no, I'll be there. You're over at your friend Louisa's, right?"
"Yep. I'll be waitin'. We'll all be...waitin'."
He rooted around for something halfway clean to wear in front of a houseful of motherly, critical women. His jeans were out; they were looking seriously trashed even by his slack standards. He decided a dark gray t-shirt would serve, over a pair of black gi pants from deep in his bottom drawer. Maybe they would all be too drunk to notice the wrinkles.
Fifteen minutes later, standing on the pegs, Steve balanced the Kaw up Louisa's annoying gravel driveway. He shut down and tucked the bike against the house where no drunken ladies could accidentally bump it. No doubting they were drunk; their laughing and hoots drifted over from the far side of the house. He tried to identify the woman on the stereo. The girl from Heart? No...Bonnie Raitt. He nodded approval and pushed open the door.
"Stevie!" yelled Louisa over the music, throwing up her arms in welcome.
"Hi Mrs. Webber. Where's Dan tonight?"
"Who knows? With his no-good daddy someplace for the weekend. Long as he's back in time for school Monday, I'm happy."
How could only four women make so much noise? By the door was his mother and her best friend Louisa. Behind the kitchen counter he recognized Bessie, a lively little fireplug of a woman, and their coworker Jenna.
Throwing her arms around his neck, Steve's mother hugged him from the side and gave him a warm kiss on his cheek. "Thank you for coming, Steve. You deserve a big hug for this."
"Uh..." His cheeks colored.
"Hell yes!" shouted Mrs. Webber. "I'll see that hug and raise you!" She also stood on tiptoe and hugged him, pressing her body full against his front and showering kisses on his face.
"Yeah, me too!" squealed Bessie, and the last woman came around to complete his embrace. He was surrounded on four sides by soft, fragrant, busty women and his body couldn't help but respond.
"Whoo!" hooted Louisa. "When I said I'd raise you, that ain't what I had in mind, but I'll take it!" And she pulled his hips even tighter before she released him.
"What's that?" asked Bessie and looked down at his tented pants. "Oh, a hard man is hard to find!"
"Sumpthin' like that," said Jenna. "But that one ain't hard to find. Uh huh!"
His face bright red, Steve turned to his mom. "Are you ready to go home, Mom?"
For some reason all the women seemed to find this hilarious. "Act'allly honey, I kinda misled you. It's not me who needs a ride home, it's Jenna. She says she's gotta be up awfully early in the morning..."
"I do!" she insisted. "You don't have a shift tomorrow. but I do!"
"...so could you give her a ride home an' then come back for me? I was supposed to be the designated driver, but..."
"But now she's the designated drinker!" crowed Bessie.
"Catch UP! Catch UP!" chanted the ladies, and Louisa handed her a shot glass of something clear.
"Oh lord..." groaned his mom and tossed off the shot.
"Where do you live at?" Steve asked Jenna, through the laughter.
"Over off Lester Highway. You know the big fish camp out that way? Right by there."
