(Author's note: this is, as the title suggests, the third chapter in my ongoing series Amy's Birthday Week, following the adventures of young Amy Lefebvre in the week following her eighteenth birthday. You should probably read the previous chapters first. Just a warning, things get a little rougher in this one than they have before. If that's not your thing, feel free to check out now. Maybe we'll see you again next time.)
(Author's note II: this story is set in the summer of 1993. That doesn't actually come up much in this chapter, but it's useful to remember.)
***
Amy was beginning to wish these two weeks would go on forever.
Not really, of course; a part of her looked forward to her father's return home. It probably wouldn't be long, in the grand scheme of things, before they weren't living together anymore, and she wanted to enjoy the time they had left. And truthfully, as much as she was enjoying her days filled with laziness and hedonism, she really
was
looking forward to finding herself a job in the near future. Getting a taste of what the world out there was really like.
But for now, the laziness and hedonism were pretty fantastic. She could sleep as late as she wanted in the mornings; fill her days with whatever frivolities struck her fancy; and then of course, best of all were the evenings.
Amy Lefebvre had just turned eighteen, had just finished high school, and was taking advantage of these first two responsibility-free weeks of adulthood to experience her most secret desire: sexual encounters with men who were decades older than herself. The boys her own age had never done anything for her; it was guys in their thirties, forties, and even fifties that got her motor running. The past two nights had been a wonderful introduction to her new sex life, and with any luck Wednesday would continue her streak.
At eight o'clock that night, she was sitting on a barstool at the Angry Moose, the pub where she was rapidly becoming a regular, nursing a beer and casually surveying the room. Each night that she came here she found herself a little more relaxed, a little more unhurried than the night before. She seemed to be truly finding her element. And that wasn't all she'd found at the Moose.
She'd gone home with a shy man named Pete (age thirty-six) on Monday, and then had sex in the parking lot of this very establishment with a straightlaced banker named Scott (age forty), a married man whose family were out of town, on Tuesday. She wondered if she'd be able to push the envelope even farther today.
She'd been at the bar nearly an hour now, just sitting silently, watching what went on around her. No one had jumped out at her so far as a particularly promising candidate, but she was learning to be patient about these things. There were guys in the room, of course, and most of them were a good bit older than her, it was true, but everyone who was around now seemed...
safe
. That had been exactly what she'd been looking for when she'd picked Pete out of the crowd on Monday night, but now, she was looking for something a little wilder.
Look at me
, she thought, laughing at herself,
two days into this and I'm ready to get dangerous. What's it gonna take to get me excited by the end of next week?
She took another sip of her drink.
All of a sudden, she was snapped from her reverie by a loud noise down the bar from her. She turned to see two rough-looking, bearded men, dressed in worn jeans and flannel shirts and trucker caps, loudly ordering shots of whiskey from the bartender. They'd just walked in. Just by looking at them, Amy predicted with about eighty percent certainty that they'd arrived in a very noisy pickup truck, probably with a suspension lift. They were the kind of guys her dad would have called "yahoos."
He always said the word with a certain contempt; he didn't have a very high opinion of that kind of person. Amy had always reflexively agreed with him, but now, watching these two men from across the room, she felt a certain fascination. They way they took up more space than they needed to, talked and laughed far more loudly than was necessary, openly made comments about other patrons within earshot. Their general disregard for everyone around them was, strangely enough, sparking her imagination. She wondered how they would treat a woman, in bed. Without much respect, certainly, that was clear enough. And she found that thought... strangely attractive?
Could these guys be the touch of danger and excitement that she was craving? She bit her lip, feeling rather more nervous and unsure of herself than she had a moment earlier. She wondered how they would react if she went over to them. Would she be able to convince one of them to abandon his buddy and leave with her? The taller one, who seemed to be the "leader" (for lack of a better word) had particularly caught her eye. The more she thought things over, the more attractive he got. Surely he'd ditch his friend if a teen girl propositioned him? He didn't seem like a man with a lot of scruples.
Making up her mind, she got up from her stool and walked, slowly and deliberately, down the bar towards the two men. They were very engaged in their conversation and didn't seem to notice her, even when she came right up to them. She looked for an opportunity to interject. Finally, there was a lull in the laughter as the two of them took sips of their drinks simultaneously.
"My, my, aren't you guys something?" said Amy, positioning herself between them.
"And what do ya mean by that, girlie?" asked the taller one, looking her up and down. He didn't even try to hide his leer.
"Oh, it's just that you seem a lot more interesting than anyone else here," she said. "The life of the party, I guess you could say. I'm Amy."
"I'm Eric," he said, "and that's Rod." Rod just nodded at her. He seemed reluctant to speak to her for some reason.
"And what brings you fellas in here tonight?"
"Well, we've got the next few days off," said Eric, "so we're just getting things started for what should be a real great time."
"Oh yeah, I guess tomorrow's a holiday, isn't it?" said Amy. Truthfully, she had almost forgotten that herself, amidst everything else she had going on.
"Well, that's no guarantee for us," said Eric. "We work over at the cement factory, and things never shut down over there. Shift work, lotta weird hours. The plants runs twenty-four hours a day, three hundred and sixty-five days a year. But this year, things worked out in our favour for Canada Day."
"Oh, very nice! Congratulations!" said Amy. The factory in question was one of a few large manufacturing businesses that employed most of the town's population. The one named Rod continued to stare at her, silently and contemptuously.
"And what about you, girlie? What brings you here tonight?" Eric asked.
"Well," she said, "I just recently turned eighteen, and I've been coming in here a lot since then. I find I quite like this place. You meet so many interesting people here."
"And what is it that you find so interesting about us?"
"Well, you're different from the kind of people I usually hang out with. A little rougher, you know? I like meeting different kinds of people."
"Oh, so what, we're just a curiosity then?" said Rod with a sneer. He really didn't seem to like her.
"Now, now, be nice," said Eric. "I'm sure there's plenty of folks who'd enjoy the company of young Amy here tonight, but she's choosing to spend a little time with us. Now, ain't that nice of her?" Rod only grunted in response.
"Well, don't be
too
nice now. Seeing you guys expressing yourselves freely was why I wanted to come over in the first place."
