Heather was a looker, as they would say in the old movies. Style, poise, legs that went all the way to heaven.
My friend Josh on the other hand was a pig of sorts. While Heather was the very description of elegance and grace that appeared right at home wearing a thousand dollar suit and holding a glass of five hundred dollar a bottle wine, Josh was the kind you expect to find passed out in front of the TV with a football game on and a couple of emptied six packs scattered on the coffee table.
Josh was a whole lot more like me than Heather. Yet, Heather could let Josh have a bunch of us rowdies over for a party and be a good hostess with all the vulgarity and grossness going on around her.
Not that I am that much of a rowdy. I'm better than those guys. They just remind me of my family roots. And, if you think this is one of those stories where the wife gets drunk and fucks everyone in the crowd you have the wrong fucking idea. Heather is ever the lady. They can cuss around her and be as foul and gross as they want. She won't condemn you or even raise an eyebrow. She just won't participate.
I don't remember how Josh and I became friends, just the day he invited me over to a football came and said there would be some other guys there, too. Beer and snacks were included, but I was advised if I wanted something special I should bring my own. When I hit the door with my six pack of diet coke the party was well underway. Everyone had consumed at least a couple of beers already and I thought I was getting there early.
The beer was the cheap kind they advertise on the front window of the quick mart and the snacks were potato chips and some of those cheap little cakes that seemed to arrive at the store already stale. The pregame wasn't even on the TV yet and the smallish 30 inch screen wasn't really the size a dozen drunks would gather around. But, everything seemed to be already in full party mode. Some of the guys had been there for an hour or more already.
Then Heather came into the room. Some of the men greeted her in catcall voices and others like me just became still at the moment and took in the sights. Now I knew what drew an early crowd to drink cheap beer and eat cheap snacks and watch the game on a too small television. It was her, Heather.
It was like someone invited the Queen. This woman did not belong in this crowd of slobs dressed in their camping shorts and ragged t-shirts bearing college names or pro sports team logos. Heather was wearing an expensive shiny shirt that looked like satin and pants that had to be tailored to look that good on that ass.
That was Heather. Long legs and dynamite ass. Trim waist, pretty face, dark brown hair, blue eyes and a beautiful smile. Maybe the lack of tit made the rest look better, but Heather was one of those girls with a dresser full of A-cup bras. Probably sexy and expensive bras, but still A-Cup. I didn't mind and the rest of the guys didn't seem to mind either. The draw to the party was not the beer, the game, or the television. It was Heather.
My first thought was like yours. She was going to get drunk and fuck everybody. But, Heather didn't drink and there was not even as much as a nipple slip showing all day. That was Heather and every guy there had a huge crush on her. Including the most recent arrival, me.
That was my first party. I never missed a one after that. Never much cared for Josh as a friend and as time went on, liked him even less. Probably mostly jealousy, but the guy is a fucking prick. No matter how early I would head for Josh and Heather's there was always several there ahead of me. I was beginning to think they arrived at dawn or spent the night camped on the front lawn.
I learned about Heather from conversations over heard between some of the guys. Heather's mom and dad were a lot like Josh. Heather's old man beat the shit out of her mother, and did it often. Finally he got sent off to jail for some picky-assed crime and while he was in jail the mom took Heather and ran.
Heather's mom found a job in another city and ended up marrying the boss. At eight years of age Heather had a new Daddy. One that was good to them, bought them nice things, let them live in a nice house, and sent Heather to college.
Out of college the step-dad got Heather a job at a friend's company. Heather did well and rose upward in the company. Then when she moved to a bigger apartment Josh was along helping friends at a moving company unload Heather's stuff into her new place. That's when they met and soon married. Heather married down to a comfort level. Josh was good to her, but really doesn't amount to a shit.
Heather makes six figures a year and Josh works for $12.75 per hour down at the plant. Where they live is more than a compromise. Josh would never fit in at a level where Heather belongs.
The only one on one encounter I had with Heather was one Sunday morning when I had forgotten to put my diet cokes in the fridge and she invited me into the kitchen to get some ice. While she stood facing away from me getting the ice all I could do was stare at her legs and ass. All the while wondering where in the fuck was Prince Charming when a girl needs to be swept away from here.
"This should put some sparkle in your soda." Heather gave me a sly smile.
I made eye contact and it seemed we locked on to each other for an awkwardly long time.
"Well, I guess I'd better get back in there. The game is going to start in another hour or so."
"Sarcasm, I like sarcasm. That's what keeps me going some days. Helped out a lot right now."
"Glad to be of service. What's the deal?"
"Josh needs friends. The parties are his way of keeping them. I know why these guys are here."
"You do? Why is that?"
"Let's just say Josh put on a few parties and the people kept showing up along with a new one every now and then. Like yourself, with you not missing a game the last month or so. Josh got to drinking too much and one weekend I decided to go shopping at the mall. The next week about half the guys didn't show. Josh was crushed. The next week he was down to two guys and one of them went home before the game was over."
"Yeah, I can see that. It's not about the game."
"The next week I let Josh know I would be there. Josh told his friends and the crowd was back. Even a couple of guys I'd never seen before. I know they stare at me when I am not looking. I know what they are thinking and I know what they hope would happen."
"I think it's more than hope. I think it's prayer. But, I guess it isn't going to happen."
"God, no! If you were a girl is there anyone in there you would want drunkenly ramming their dick up inside you?"
"Whoa! That's different."
"Sometime the lady forgets and bad things fall out of her mouth. Let's try to keep my potty mouth between us. I don't want any of those bastards thinking I would approve."
"Why are you here? You seem to be above everyone in this group."
"Same reason they are, except I don't expect you to take on everyone in the room."
"That was honest enough. So, what's your potty mouth phrase of the day?"
"So much comes to mind and I only get one phrase? I guess if I get one of these a week I'd say my phrase would be I want to eat your pussy."
I waited for the answer, or the slap, or the get the hell out of my house. Instead, it was the awkward meeting of the eyes we experienced a little earlier.
"You are a fucking dreamer, aren't you?"
I grabbed my ice and started the hell out of there.
"I can't wait to see what you come up with next week."
No Shit? Did she mean that or don't I know how to be beat down and insulted? All during the game I tried to think of what I would say the following weekend and what I should have said this one.
It got to be a game. I think we both wanted to flirt a little bit. I tried the girlfriend approach. Where I act more like a girlfriend and asks a silly question like the one I came up with the next week. Same situation ... ice for my diet soda, when Heather turned around she asked if I was staring at her ass. I said yes. She said good.
"Now then, what's your potty mouth saying for the week?"
"If you were going to let someone in this bunch do it, say they were all cleaned up and sober, who would be the one you would want to eat your pussy?"
"Hmmmm ... What's that new guy's name, or the guy that always sits on the arm of the couch. The guy in the wife-beater sleeveless undershirt leaves me breathless. I hope you don't think I am mocking you?"
"You don't have an answer?"
"I have answer. I'm just not going to tell you."
The next week I was wondering how she felt about her A-Cup tits. I really would have loved to see them. She surprised me with her answer when I asked her if there was anything about herself she would change if she could.
"I'd guess I'd change my ears."
Ears? I couldn't even tell you if she had ears. Then she showed them to me. She wanted them not to stick out so much. I didn't see it. When I asked if there was anything else she said no.
