Architecture student Bobbi is on summer break and finds the vintage motor inn of her dreams but really lucks out when the older owner is pretty hot himself. Summer romance and self discovery.
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Mustang Sally
'Mustang Sally you better slow your Mustang down.'
Jerry Robertson
I'll admit I noticed the Mustang before the girl driving it. Poppy red 1965 Mustang convertible. I know this because it was the year I was born and it is a car I coveted all my life.
The girl quickly grabbed my attention. She stood behind her open door and seemed to study the office, then she looked up at the HiWay Motor Inn sign. She pulled her black cats eye sunglasses down her nose. The corner rhinestones winked in the sun as she looked at me through the front window. I would not pick her for a tourist, and certainly not in our little town.
When the interstate went in and bypassed our town, things went downhill. I worked here when I was a kid and of course it became mine after my Dad passed, which was right about the time my wife wanted me to sell it. I was kicking it around but then she died, so after that there was no reason to change.
The bell on the door jingled when Mustang Sally stepped in along with a puff of hot humid summer air . She smiled and removed her sunglasses. Chocolate brown eyes and hair made me want to see if she tasted the same.
Where the hell did that come from.
I'm dreaming, I laughed to myself, this girl is young enough to be your daughter.
"Hi! I just love this place!" I smiled, waiting for her to ask for a room. She had an elbow on the high check in counter and all I saw above it was white with red polka dot top. "You're the owner?"
"Ah, yes, yes I am. Can I help you with anything?"
At all. I hope.
・Not really, I always wanted to stop by. This is such a great example of googie architecture.・
Before I could reply, the phone rang and I went back to my desk to answer. While I tapped in the dates of stay and information in the computer, she came back and perched on the edge of my desk. She crossed her legs, and the white sandal dangled off perfectly manicured red toes that matched her capri pants that matched her car.
I had to ask them to repeat the information before I hung up.
She sat saying nothing and still smiling, giving me time to notice the midriff top she was wearing, which I had not seen since i was a teenager. This top was obviously current though and buttoned low, exposing a lot of her ample cleavage, and tied in the center of those wonderful breasts.
She held out a slim manicured and and said, "My name is Roberta Jeanette Thibideaux, but you can call me Bobbi for short. That's Bobbi with an I."
"I thought your name would be Sally."
Roberta 'Bobbi' Jeanette Thibideaux
"
All you want to do is ride around Sally
"
On an impulse I turned into the parking lot of an old motor inn on the outskirts of town. I imagine before the interstate, it was a happening place. Today I suspect they do mostly hourly business.
As an architecture student, I noticed the googie style, popular in the fifties and sixties. The sweeping roof lines, and bold dramatic angles. The atomic HiWay Motor Inn sign that was spelled out in individual letters vertically soared high and could be seen forever it seemed. A wall of breeze block punctuated the style.
I parked and marveled at how this place had just been lost in time. No one had marred it's atomic significance with renovations.
I hadn't planned on going in, but the silver fox guy at the desk caught my eye. No one ever accused me of being bold, but here I was.
The bell on the door jangled loudly and would have caught his attention most anywhere on the property. There were twelve units in a U shape, with the office at the front on one side, the other looked as though it may be laundry and storage, so all the units were well back off the street.
At five foot six inches I'm not short, but the check in counter nearly came to my shoulders. It was the same sweeping curves as the roof line. I gazed around a room that I was sure had not changed from the day it was built.
I noticed him staring at me, with a bit of a frown. "Hi! I just love this place!"
Whoa, girl, is that the best you can do.
"You're the owner?" I asked, knowing by now he would think i was totally nuts. His phone rang before I got in deeper. Especially after my googie comment.
I walked around the high counter to check out the rest of the room, but I could not help but check the handsome proprietor. He could have been my Dad, and did have a little bit of a Dad bod, but there was a latent maleness that usually only younger guys have. And what I was thinking about him was definitely not Dad like, I thought wryly.
While he took the call, I sat on the edge of his desk, which would normally be another bold ballsy move for me. I chalked it up to the atmosphere of this place. His voice was raspy and deep bass. A voice i could listen to all day. A voice I could get rich by pandering him to women for phone sex.
He leaned back in his office chair just as I crossed my legs and noticed he was distracted by my sandal swinging off my toes. Although I saw no ring, I wondered if he was married.
He hung up and I introduced myself. I had to wonder what made him think my name would be Sally.
Who the hell was Sally anyhow?
But I decided then and there that had more important things to discover about him.
"I remember having gone by this place as a little girl and wondering about it. I guess I loved architecture even then."
"Oh, you're an architect?"
"Student. Another year and I will be. I'm on break." Done with talking about me, I looked around the room. "This place looks as though it hasn't been touched since it was built."
"Not really. My wife wanted to do some updating, but my father was adamant it stayed the way it was."
Wife. Ugh. I was afraid of that. Why should I care, I asked myself.
Because he is intriguing, that
'
s why!
"Well no offense to your wife, but I'm glad you father wanted it to stay that way. I take it he has passed?"
He nodded. "Yes, both my wife and my father."
I almost grinned but caught myself at the last moment. "Sorry to hear that," was all I said, and he nodded, giving me the feeling it had been a while back.
I picked up a piece of mail off his desk. "So you're Jerry Robertson?" I didn't know if he heard me he was so busy watching my leg swinging next to his, but he did nod.
"Yes, sorry, I should have introduced myself."
"Was your wife's name Sally?"
"Huh... No, why?" He looked quizzical, then exclaimed, "OH! No. Haven't you ever heard the song, Mustang Sally? Way before your time, so maybe not."
"Ohhhhh, yes of course I have! I just didn't put it together. I love that song! I have it on an 8 track in my car." He started to say something but I interrupted, "Yeah yeah 8 track wasn't factory until 1966 but it was installed as a hang on."
"You really know your car, don't you?" he said, impressed.
"Yes. It's the only car I've ever known. My Daddy had it and passed it on to me. It's all i have of him."
"I'm sorry, honey," he said sympathetically. I nodded, my eyes straying to his open shirt and the silver hairs glinting in the black fur on his chest. Thinking about how hairy he may be caused me to squirm a bit on his desk. "You can sit in a chair if it'd be more comfortable."
"No, I like it right here, Jerry." I liked using his name for the first time.
Jerry Robertson
So Roberta Jeanette Thibideaux was a college student. Still too young for me, or I was too old for her. Either way. Although she did seem to be flirting with me. But it could just be her personality. The friendly type.
She uncrossed her legs and let them dangle, and leaned forward a bit, which gave me a great view down the valley between her breasts. I got a glimpse of delicate white lace of her bra, which made me cross my legs to try to hide the growing bulge in my lap. Too late because I saw her smile.
"What have you designed? Buildings, houses...?" I trailed off knowing really nothing about architecture. Hell I didn't even know this old motel's design had any historical significance.
"I've designed most everything for my classes, but I love designing modern homes with touches of mid century modern. It's very popular now thankfully."
"Is it something that would be popular around here?"
"Nah, I doubt it, but I plan on working in Atlanta anyhow."
An hour away. Oddly I felt a bit depressed at that thought. "Okay I'm sure you'd be busy there." She nodded.
I excused myself and picked up the phone, spending the next five minutes explaining why I did not rent for short amounts of time.
After I hung up, she asked, "You got something against afternoon delights, a little lunchtime nookie?" I just stared at her, shocked. "Or you just don't like sex," she stated.
"Of course I do!" Although I couldn't think of the last time I had a date that involved sex. Not many available women to choose from in this little town and most of them had known my wife and felt sorry for me more than anything. My wife had lingered with her cancer.
She leaned towards me, offering an even better view of those luscious globes, and said, "Then what do you have against them renting from you for a few hours of fucking?"
My eyes were mentally caressing those ivory skin breasts and her words coming at the same time made my balls ache.