I had left my notebook behind someplace. Damn! I back tracked my trail: the library, the bookstore, the walk through the mall, and then finally into the park. That's when I saw him, the old guy, reading my notebook.
Shit, it was the one with my stories in it, too -- my incest stories!
Worst of all, they were in the back of an old senior history notebook that was left over when I graduated from high school. It had my name and address all over the front. I couldn't just leave it behind.
He didn't look that mean and tough, though. If I had to fight him for it, I could probably take him. He was just an average looking guy, pretty nondescript really. About 5'9" I'd say, maybe 160 lbs. Kinda wiry with hair a little too long. He had on rumpled clothes, cotton trousers and a short sleeved button down shirt. A real nobody.
So I walked right up to him and told him flat out, "That's my notebook. I want it back, now!"
He chuckled, flipping the cover over and looking up at me, squinting into the sun as he did so. He gave me a kind of a cockeyed smile. Whoever he was, he had an easy-going face with steel blue eyes.
"Sure kid," he said casually, like it was no big deal at all. That was a real relief. He held the notebook out to me. I went to grab it, but he held on to it for just a second longer than he should have. Kinda just long enough to get my attention and to throw me off balance. Then he released it.
Leaning back, he smiled nice and friendly and then he said, "You know you're going about it all wrong, don't you?"
"Going after what?" I said, playing ignorant.
"See, that's what I mean, kid. You got no confidence. You're going about it all wrong."
"Look mister, just butt out of my business," I said, then turned to walk away.
"Fine by me, kid, but you'll never fuck 'em that way."
"Yeah, well what you know about it," I said, not even deigning to turn fully around, just packing away my notebook into my knapsack.
"I know I fucked more women than you got pairs of socks, that's what I know. And I know you ain't never gonna fuck no decent woman with any approach like what I read in there. Shit, you must be a virgin kid. Do the worlds a real favor, go fuck a real woman before you try and write about it."
That stung, and it stung to the core. That's what I had been trying to do really. My vast experience with women had been feeling up a few small tits hot and heavy on the front seat of Mom's car. That and just living with a single mom that didn't date much and a big sister that did. Lot of good either one of them did me.
I must have looked as dejected as I felt, because the guy said somewhat sympathetically, "Look, kid. It ain't no big deal. If half that shit you wrote is true, just go home and show some balls and fuck either one of them. Broads are pretty much all the same. They may say they want romance. What they really want is a real man that knows how to fuck. How many really nice guys have you seen dating the cheerleaders at school?"
He definitely had a point there. Every respectably hot babe I ever knew in high school dated the biggest jerks of them all. All the real loudmouth jocks got the best chicks. Sensitive guys, caring guys, we got squat.
"Look, kid. Park your can a minute. If you're gonna try and write about this shit, let me tell you how the game is really played," he said so confidently that I found myself sitting on the far edge of the same bench just listening. "Okay, let's take this mom you wrote the first story about. Let's say, for the sake of argument, she's not even your mom, just some generic mom. What did you call her?"
"Georgia."
"Yeah, nice touch there," he started off complimenting. "That name conjures up a sweet Southern gal. I've known a few Georgia's in my time and at least two of them were very sweet in the sack. I didn't get the third one now that I think about it, but I nailed her sister that night instead. I should have stuck with that Georgia though. The sister was a real tightass, and I don't mean that in a good way."
"Anyway, so this hypothetical Georgia of yours, she's been on her own since you were eight. That's ten years right? And you say she's not had many dates. That tells me a couple of things right there. Either she's giving it up on the side without even having to be dated or she's doing without. Either way, you got an easy in to fuck her right there."
He sat there like nothing else needed to be said. When I still looked puzzled, he shook his head and tried to spell it out like he was talking to an elementary schooler.
"Okay, let's take the first one. If she's screwing the pants off some guy without having to be dated, she got round heels anyway. A woman like that is just waiting for a big handsome kid like you to come home and put the meat to her.
"And if she's had none, well that's even better kid. You think us men corner the market on being horny? Hell no! The secret to understanding women is that when everything else is said and done, they really do act like men more than they want to tell the press. Broads want to fuck just as much as we do, kid. They just got to have the proper pretext. Give them a good enough reason and you can get any broad to fuck you anywhere at any time."
That's when I figured it out. This guy was so full of bullshit he stunk of it.
"Yeah, right mister. It was nice talking to ya," I told him, getting up to leave.
"You don't believe me, do ya?" he said, grinning up at me, squinting back into the sun again. "Jeez, why do I bother? I'll tell you why. I like a challenge and you look like a pretty decent kid. You could be worth something as a writer someday. Who knows, maybe I'm helping out the next Ernest Hemmingway of porn stories here?"
He reached into his pocket and pulled out a thick wad of bills.
"Tell you what, I got two hundred dollars here," he said, pulling off the first two bills. They were both hundreds and it looked like there might have been twenty or thirty more where they came from. "My two hundred says you take me home with you right now and if I can't fuck 'Georgia' right in front of your eyes in thirty minutes you keep the money and I walk out the door never to be seen again."
"You're joking, right? No way I'm gonna take you home with me and even if I did, there's no way in holy hell you could get into MY mother's pants in thirty days much less thirty minutes."
"So what have you got to loose?" he asked, waving the bills in front of my face. "You hold the money even. If I can't get the job done, and get it done right under your nose, you get a clean two clams."
"Look mister, as tempting as the free money is, I don't even want a guy like you knowing where I live. No offense or anything."
"None taken, kiddo. From your angle, I can't say I blame you. But I already know where you live. 123 Sycamore Street, isn't that right?"
Shit! The address on the notebook!
"If I was a real scumbag, I'd just hang around until you weren't around and fuck Georgia anyway. She'd be really easy picking's then. I'm trying to challenge myself here, kid. I'm giving you the edge. It'll be at least half as hard again to get her naked and on her back with her own son looking on."
I vacillated, not able to decide what to do, which left this guy with even more time to talk and get into my head.
"Look, if I strike out, you tell her what a phony I am and that nothing I said is true. I'll throw in some obvious lies that she can check out and then she'll know what a heel I am and never fall for my line of shit again. She'll be inoculated. Think of me as a virus or something."
"But if I'm right, not only will you get to see me fuck your mother, but I'll guarantee you that you can have sloppy seconds right after me, kiddo. How about it? Bang you mom for sure or win an easy two hundred-dollar bet. Shit son, you can't lose this one!"
Actually, it did sound like too good of a deal. "What's in this for you?"
"You mean other than the chance to bang your mom?" he cackled, even more so when I winced at the way he said it. "No, it's a good question, kid. One you should have asked about five minutes ago. People never do things for unselfish motives.
"See, number one, I love to prove I still got it. It's easy to go to some neighborhood bar or church where women are wanting to get laid and score," he said. When he saw me wince again when he said 'church', he cackled merrily again. "Most churches are filled with single gals wanting to find a husband or ignored wives that need a man. Either one is just a whore waiting to happen, kid. But I digress.
"Besides just proving I can do it, I'd also ask this, too. You described the older sister real nice in those stories, too. I'd want to stick around until she comes home from her date and fuck her, too. Mother and daughter teams are fun to fool around with. Especially the pretty ones. Yeah, I'd want to stick around and help you fuck the two of them together for the first time. Kinda set you up right from then on out, you know. After today though, you'd be on your own. Bird's gotta leave the nest sometime and all."
He was so overwhelmingly confident that it was funny. I started laughing aloud. The thought of this stranger talking his way into my staid, quiet home and actually having sex with my totally asexual mother and my sister who'd never be seen with an older guy like this... The audacity of him thinking he could set it all up in thirty minutes or less... It was just too much to bear!
He joined me laughing, but for entirely the opposite reasons. "So, we got a deal," he said after a moment or two of laughing. That only made me chuckle more, then I just shrugged and said sure, why not? Easiest two hundred dollars I ever made!
It was only a ten-minute walk to my house anyway. Sis would be gone until late, I knew. She always had a date on Friday night. This guy was just talking away like it was all for real, but it sure didn't feel that way.
"Remember what I said about pretext, kid? Okay, here's the pretext for your mom. I'm gonna be the vice cop and you're gonna be the kid I caught soliciting a prostitute..."
"No way!" I immediately protested.
"Don't sweat it, kid. I'll tell her you were real clumsy about it and it was obviously your first time. With a hooker, anyway. Though it would be better all the way around if you'd just come out and admit you're a virgin to her. Moms really dig that, you know. But I'll leave that up to you. As a vice cop, I wouldn't know that.
