This story is dedicated to all the Polly's I've known and wish I'd known.
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The late afternoon sunlight still shone on the treetops as we began climbing the wooden stairs of the old forestry service fire tower. When we got above the nearby pines and oaks, the horizon opened up around us. It was one of my favorite sights. But not today. Polly Wright was a step or two ahead of me. All I could focus on was her blue jean clad butt jiggling just inches from my face.
Last night I'd watched it moving and shaking all over the dance floor. Then about an hour later, its sexy roundness was bouncing up and down on the front seat of my old Ford while Polly held me tight and rose to meet my every downward plunge. It'd been sex of a different order than I'd ever known. Frantic, intense, almost driven. At the time, I couldn't believe what was happening. I still can't. After all, she'd been a virgin and it was our first date.
We'd bumped into each other that morning. Neither one of us was dating anyone. So when I suggested we break the rural boredom by going out that evening, she laughed and said okay. Back in high school, Polly had been well-liked and pretty enough, but a little quiet and mousy. Since then, things had changed. Although there wasn't much competition, she'd become one of area's leading lust objects. But she retained a vulnerable innocence that somehow made guys want to protect her.
My theory is her body stirs up most of the lust. It's improved since high school. Although still short, she now has nice, high boobs. She always did have an impossibly tiny waist and the legendary ass I've already mentioned.
I think it's that angelic face that makes guys want to run out and kill some evil dragon in defense her virtue. Her eyes are dark green and slanted—almost oriental. And with her long, dark lashes, they can seem to bore right into your soul. Now I know for a fact she's ridden horses practically forever. But with her delicate features and peaches and cream skin, you'd think she never went outdoors. All that plus short, chestnut hair means she's spent a lifetime having to put up with people saying she looks just like a china doll.
She told me how much she hated being called a china doll while finishing a Gorilla Killer. It's the specialty drink at the club we went to last night. She was more interested in the hurricane lamp shaped glass that came with the drink than the booze. Due to good taste and limited resources, I refused to help her out and stuck to beer. Later, she decided she wanted a matched set, which meant another one. It was sometime between those two Gorilla Killers that she began asking me questions about the guys she'd been dating.
"Bobby, I don't understand. Just when you'd think they'd want to, you know, they stop for a cigarette or something. Look, you know most of them and you're a guy and you've been around. Is it something about me?"
Before I could answer she changed subjects, I think. "Did you know I take birth control pills?" That wasn't exactly the question I'd been expecting. Not being sure what to say, I just shook my head. "Well, I do. I started my senior year in high school. I'd always had a problem with, you know, my time of the month and all that. The pills work great. And the doctor says they're why I grew out of training bras."
We both laughed. But I wondered about her problem with guys. While she never said so, it was obvious she was a virgin. Thanks to that beatific face, and maybe her always having been quiet and shy, she'd gotten a reputation. But in her case, it was as a "good" girl. In the rural south, even in 1970, that could be frustrating.
That's when I invited her to share a sunset with me the next day. I said if she was agreeable, I'd pick her up around suppertime and we'd go to the fire tower a few miles from her home. She got this silly grin and said why not?
We danced some more and when the band took its next break, she started working on her second Gorilla Killer—the one she needed for a matched set of glasses. If that first drink loosened her up, the second one almost blew her away. I'd tried some of that first one. It was a super sweet concoction of something that wasn't for me. When I asked the bartender what was in it, the list was too long for my short memory. All I know for sure is that after she finished number two, things started getting interesting.
Bashful Polly metamorphosed into a hot, seductive woman. Slow dances turned into grope and grind sessions. That's when I discovered her butt felt even better than it looked, and that she was a very enthusiastic kisser. This was fine with me. But if things were going to go any further, I didn't want it to be on the dance floor. When I suggested we leave early, she agreed.
On the way back she crawled all over me. That was even more fun than the dance floor. At least it would have been if I didn't have to worry about drunk drivers and overloaded trucks. But I remember thinking this sure wasn't what I'd expected on a first date with Polly Wright. I managed to hold her off until we reached my favorite parking spot. Then we screwed, and screwed, and screwed. Hell, someone had to be first, and second, and third.
But as I said, it wasn't like anything I'd ever done before. Polly wanted it, and wanted it bad. That was obvious. She was lifting her beautiful butt, helping me undress her even while mumbling, "No. No." And when I tried to lean back and scope her out, she pulled me closer, as if ashamed of being seen nude. That was a drag, because what little I saw was incredible. And I had to tell her. But she just looked embarrassed.
There wasn't much talking after that. We devoured each other. Our necks, faces, ears became late night tidbits. But even as she whimpered with desire and nuzzled my neck, I could feel the tears on her cheeks. I didn't want to hurry, but under the circumstances restraint was beyond me.
Knowing she was a virgin, I planned to enter her slow and easy like the books say to do. But she lunged up, taking almost all of me in one, frantic movement. I heard a small cry and felt her cling even closer. I waited, until she caught her breath. Then I finished the job. Her pussy was wet and hot and so tight it was almost painful. But what a fantastic pain.
Everything considered it's amazing I didn't come right then. As it was, I may have made it another ten seconds. Maybe not. But it must have been enough for her because we both exploded at the same time. All I can remember after that is an overwhelming sense of pure pleasure.
I don't remember if we paused before the second time or the third. Both were almost as intense, but with that same odd combination of passion tinged with remorse.
Much later, when I dropped her off, we kissed and I reminded her about sunset at the fire tower. She nodded and mumbled something. Then clutching her two hurricane glasses, she went inside.
Now, as we approached the top of the fire tower, I wondered how this scene was going to play out. She'd been quiet, acting like she was out of it. That made sense considering how looped she'd gotten last night, plus all the sex.
On the last flight of stairs, I spread out an old Army blanket and we sat facing west. There were hints of a warm, dying breeze. The sun had almost reached the distant horizon. I joked that we'd arrived just in time. When she didn't look at me or say anything, I asked what seemed like a logical question. "It took you awhile to come out to the car. No problem, but are you feeling okay?"
Turning her head, she studied me for a moment. The expression on her face, the look in those big green eyes, was sad, almost resigned. "I'm fine," she said. "I just wasn't dressed. I didn't think you'd come."
The answer floored me. It made no sense. "Why wouldn't I?"
"After last night, and what we did. I figured you'd be telling all your friends what happened. And I didn't think you'd want to be seen with a girl who'd do that on a first date."
If a gold star ever shows up next to my name, it'll be because I didn't laugh. But the truth is, what she said was sad, not funny. I'm no man of the world, but I was a few years older than Polly, had been to college a couple of years, and just gotten back from playing soldier in the Southeast Asian war games.
Unlike me, Polly had lived here all her life. She'd made good grades in high school and had won a small college scholarship. But right after graduation, her father almost died in an oil field accident. The doctors said his rehab would take months. So she'd stayed home and gone to work as a legal secretary. I suppose a lifetime spent here in the middle of our fundamentalist nowhere could give anyone some warped ideas.
"Polly, for me, last night was fantastic. It's something I'll never forget. But it was a fluke. And it hasn't changed my respect for you. Besides, I never talk. A long time ago I learned that if you keep your mouth shut, other guys think you're getting a lot of action. If you go around talking, they figure its bullshit. So it's in my best interest to say nothing. Anyway, just knowing we went on a date will be enough to make me the envy of every guy around here. And I like that. So I'd like for us to go out again, day or night."
