My name is Jeremy. The year is 1980, the place is somewhere in southeastern Los Angeles county, California. I was a young man with a good head on my shoulders but not much formal education. The ladies called me easy on the eyes. I had a handsome, well-proportioned body with a good set of muscles and an eight-inch cock that I knew how to use rather better than the average 1980's guy of my age. I was two months shy of my twenty-first birthday, with a new job as an apprentice machinist at a factory that had about ninety employees.
Her name was Anita, the foreman of the assembly line. She was a little over twenty years older than me, overweight, with deep wrinkles on her face. No one would call her beautiful now, though she had been drop-dead gorgeous when she was my age. She had lived a hard life that left its marks on her body and her soul. Her personality was brassy, cynical and a bit abrasive, even combative if somebody messed with her. But that was the surface picture, the face she showed a world she didn't trust that had been cruel to her. The face she showed to the people she could trust was rather different: she was friendly, cautiously optimistic, cheerful, and had a genuine heart of gold. She also had a physical saving grace: a set of nicely-shaped 46DD's. Yeah, you read the numbers right, that's huge even on a fat chick.
No one this side of God would have predicted that we'd even hook up, much less that she was destined to be the love of my life, and to give me sex that far exceeded my most fevered adolescent fantasies in both quality and quantity. This is the story of how that destiny came to pass.
Day one at the new job. The foreman of the machine shop was showing me places I need to know about like the stock room, the tool room, the first aid room, and of course the lunch room. He's introducing me to my coworkers, paying special attention to important people like the tool and die maker and the foremen of shipping, quality control, and the assembly line. As it happened, I met Anita last, just before morning break. Everyone I had met so far had been fairly friendly. It was that kind of company. But Anita was gruff and her greeting greeting very proforma and insincere, her natural reaction to strangers.
Just then the whistle for break went off. I told Anita I was going to the roach coach for a snack and asked her if she would like anything. She brightened a bit and asked for a bear claw. I went out to the food truck and got my morning coffee and a small plate of nachos and a bear claw for Anita. I also got her a coffee though she hadn't asked for it. Most people at the factory drank coffee, and I thought she might like one, and if not I could drink two easily enough.
I saw her sitting at a table in the lunch room, so I brought her her bear claw and coffee, and some sugar and creamer packets so she could fix up her coffee however she liked. She reached into a pocket to get some change to pay me back, but I told her "it's on me."
She gave me a big smile and a warm "thanks" and invited me to sit with her. I sat down and she asked how I liked the new job and we chatted through break. I had discovered that a little kindness went a long way with Anita. At the time I just filed it in my brain as a useful fact--it never hurts to have a good rapport with a boss, even one in a different department.
The next couple of months were mostly devoted to learning the job, but I made some friends and had some casual hook ups with some good-looking young ladies on the assembly line. This was the same pattern as in high school, no problem getting pussy, but it never lead to anything lasting. Anita watched my antics with that ladies with wry amusement, but I sometimes thought I saw her with a wistful look on her face, but I was never sure, and I didn't ask.
Anita and I often found ourselves at the same table at breaks and lunch, usually with other friends, sometimes one-on-one, often after one of us invited the other to join them. We talked quite a bit and the one-on-ones especially got pretty personal. It was obvious that Anita and I were becoming good friends.
She shared that she had been married when she was my age to what she thought was a nice guy who was really a cheating bastard who fancied himself to be a player. She discovered this when he brought home a particularly virulent strain of gonorrhea which ravaged her reproductive system and left her sterile. She'd kicked him to the curb, then got a great divorce lawyer who took him for every cent the bastard had ever seen. It wouldn't have been enough money were it twenty times as much, but it left Anita in decent financial shape. She'd gotten pretty wild after the divorce. There were many different men, none as bad as her ex but none of them really right for her, either. She'd pretty much given up, saying "I haven't had a dick that wasn't made of plastic in over five years" with a look of sadness and a tiny tear in the corner of her eye.
For a fleeting moment, I thought of offering her mine, but I said to myself "no way in hell, she's way too old for me and not pretty enough." Famous last words.
For my part, I expressed satisfaction with the parade of pussy I was getting, but frustration and sadness at my inability to find love. I wanted someone to make love to, not just fuck.
Anita reassured me, "God will bring you someone wonderful when least expect it." Her words proved to be prophetic, though in a way neither of us could imagine at the time.
The last Thursday of my second month on the job was the day before my birthday. Anita sat down at my lunch table and said, "Jeremy, there's a little beer bar a couple of blocks from here. If you'd like, we'll have a little party for you, and you can have your first legal drink." Anita and everybody else knew that I'd had plenty of illegal drinks--many of them were shared with my friends at the factory. I'd also smoked a lot of pot--also often with factory friends.
The party idea sounded like a lot of fun, so I said "sure, I'd love to." I had never been there, but I knew where the bar was. I had often seen coworkers going there after work.
Friday at end-of-shift, Anita said "happy birthday, Jeremy. We'll meet you at the bar." I drove over and when I walked in, Anita motioned me over to a table that had several small gifts and a birthday cake. Pancho the inspector had taken off work a half hour early and set everything up.
When everybody was there (twelve of us altogether), they introduced me to the bartender who they were on friendly terms with. He said "happy twenty-first birthday, Jeremy. Your beer is on the house tonight." and put a big mug of beer in my hand.
I made the sign of the cross in the air with the mug saying "in the name of the Father and the Son and the Holy Ghost", draining the mug in a single huge gulp, burping loudly and saying"amen." This performance evoked loud cheers and laughter from the gang.
