Preface:
This story is based on actual events.
All characters are 18+ unless specifically stated.
I've chunked this story down into chapters for different audiences.
The sexier part begins in Chapter 2 if you'd rather just jump right into it.
_____________________________________________________________________________
"Never open the door to a lesser evil, for other and greater ones invariably slink in after it."
― Baltasar Gracian
_______________________________________________
Dark Night
Chapter 1
Remember Me
Days pass without distinction, as trees on a shoreline. This one, the same as that, separated only by some distance on the shore. Landmarks emerge on the horizon, then fade as we pass. Isolated dangers, reefs, and sandbars are concealed in the dark water.
The Coral Head Restaurant paid less than the cashier job that I had at Shop-Easy but the tips were amazing. I'd make as much on a Saturday night as I did for a whole week at the store. You need to be part entertainer and part model to be a good carhop. I was always a bit chatty and a little flirty so it didn't take long for me to get the hang of it.
You need to learn how to navigate crude men who think they're clever but once you're past that then it's a breeze. It requires some level of tolerance to deal with all the pet names and waves of lewd, suggestive commentary some nights. That's not to say that I'm gorgeous. I blend for the most part but I guess that I'm absolutely stunning after last call on a Saturday night. Some men just can't resist one last shot at bagging some game from the hunt before they head home to their wives.
They roll in just as charming as can be, halfway in the bag, slurring their speech and acting like they're 12 years old. I swear, each glass of rum reduces their IQ by 10 points. Clumsy buggers too, dropping their cutlery on the floor all night and trying to look up my skirt. How could a girl resist suave gentlemen such as that? It used to scare me but, like anything else, you get used to it.
There was a group of guys that used to hang out there. I'd seen them around. They were near my age and came from the south end, like me, but they were in a different catchment area so they went to a different school.
They'd come to the restaurant almost every night and hang out, chatting up the girls or polishing their wheel or whatever single guys do to fritter away the hours when they're not bird-doggin' chicks. The groups that came around were a bit fragmented and rarely mingled, birds of a feather and all that. The rich kids hung with the rich kids and the street rod guys hung with the street rod guys.
I connected with this one guy. I'd seen him at rallies and sporting events back in the day so we got to chatting about my school and his school, social kind of things like that. There was that six degrees of separation so we knew some of the same people. It didn't take long before he was asking me out. He was very nice and he had his dad's car most nights. He'd pick me up after close and drive me home, which was a new deal for me. Who could pass up on a chauffeur-driven ride home? It was infinitely better than sitting in the back seat of a beat-up old taxi that smelled like a mixture of Lysol and vomit. *gag*
I was a virgin when I started dating Mark. That's not to say that I didn't make out with guys before. I had a healthy libido and I was as active as most girls, I think. I'd even go so far as to say that I'd be on the upper end of the bell curve of the statistical average on a psych survey. Maybe not, I don't know. I only know that I thought about sex a lot. It's just that I never had the opportunity to be alone with a guy long enough to close the deal.
Mark had his dad's car all the time and I closed the restaurant on weekends so we had a ton of opportunity. Late nights, big cars, you get the picture. And it was a big car too. It was one of those SUVs with seating for nine people; an Escalade or Yukon, one of those. I can't remember which it was but it was a people carrier, leather seats and all. I swear, we christened every seat in that car over the summer.
Anyway, so he was out with his buddies one night and he texted me.
Mark - supp Cupcakes?
Vickie - Homework. hbu?
Mark - cruising. wanna hang?
Vickie - For sure. I'm done. Rescue me, please! Jailbreak!
Vickie - Where to?
Mark - nowhere. just a drive.
Vickie - Gotcha.
Mark - CU in 5
Vickie - Okie doke.
I was pretty much burned out after reading over assignments so I was glad to have an excuse to duck out. They were just cruising around so I didn't bother to change because we weren't actually going anywhere. I was wearing sandals, no socks. I was a chemistry major and we always made fun of the guys that wore sandals and socks. They said that you can always tell a grad student by their footwear; sandals, and socks. I never paid much attention to it before, but once someone points it out, you can't unsee it, socks were out.
So yeah, sandals, a tank top, and jean shorts with white cotton bikini briefs underneath. I probably should have put a bra on but I never thought much about it at the time. He said just a drive, so that's casual, right? Okay, I guess that there are varying degrees of casual. There's business casual, golf club casual, and backyard barbeque casual. I took it as backyard barbeque casual. In retrospect, golf club casual would have been a better choice.
Mark rolled up with three of his buddies tagging along. There was one guy in the front and two guys in the back. The guy in the front wasn't moving so I made a beeline for the back until the front passenger door popped open, Mark flipped up the center console and waved me over.