Sunday, March 13, 2011

The Summer of Bow-Chicka-Wow-Wow

The same warning to family on the last post applies to this one as well.  All “Family of Bluz” should close this page and check back for the next post.  This is a story about yours truly doing the Freak-Nasty with his roommate all over town and trying not to get caught.  While it is not necessarily explicit, graphic mental images may ensue.  You have been warned.  I promise that the next post will be fit for general consumption.  (As much as any of my posts are…)

In the last post, I told how after several years of quiet lusting, I finally got it on with my hot blond roommate, “Diane,” (so named because her demeanor often reminded me of Diane Chambers from “Cheers”) once my girlfriend and I had broken up.  Of course the fact that the Ex-Girlfriend still lived there did complicate things a bit.  (If you haven’t read the last post, you should probably do so before reading this one.)

Now that the ice was broken, Diane and I went to town every chance we got, meaning, “whenever the Ex-Girlfriend was out of the house.”  Lucky for us, that was most of the time.  If she wasn’t in class, she was working with her Community Theater group or Children’s Theater.  Even though we were broken up, (and I mean really broken up, not “on a break” like Ross and Rachael), we really didn’t want to cause any bad feelings or pain.

So that meant we had some anxious moments.  Diane loved teasing me when other people were around.  Like I’d be in the kitchen with the Ex-Girlfriend, and she would walk through wearing nothing but her nightshirt.  When the Ex-Girlfriends back was turned to her, she’d pull up her shirt and flash me the beave.  Then I’d have to try and keep my composure, lest I have to explain a reaction to the Ex.

We didn’t tell anyone at work what was going on either.  Everyone knew we were roommates, but no one knew anything else.  So sometimes, we’d both be up in the cash register island, and if I were standing in the passageway, she’d pretend she had to squeeeeze by, so she could rub her ass against my crotch.  She’d walk away, tossing a smirk over her shoulder.

Our shared commutes to and from work were unbelievable.  Most of the time, whoever wasn’t driving had their hand in the driver’s pants.  Other drivers nearby must have thought it was strange to see someone looking so happy to be going to work.

One night, on our way home, she said, “Turn left over there,” pointing to a small road leading off the 4-lane highway.  As we drove down the narrow road, the pavement turned to gravel, which then turned to dirt.  Next thing I knew, we were in the middle of some farmer’s field.  I don’t know what he was growing there, but I knew what I was growing.  She said she knew this place from her younger college days.  I didn’t doubt it.

So there we were, in the middle of some field, getting it on atop the hood of her car, about 200 yards from I-75.  I don’t know if the passing trucks were laying on their air horns for us, or to warn errant drivers in front of them.  All I can say is that there was a lot of honking going on.

We visited that field a number of times throughout that summer.  And if we were home late, we could always chalk it up to a problem with balancing the registers when we were closing up.

One night when we were all home, Diane asked me to go with her to get some cigs.  I agreed, so off we walked to the gas station down the block.  On the way back, she said, “Lets go this way,” motioning for us to take the long way around the back of our block.  Then as we were going along, we passed a hedgerow in front of a large house.  

She said, “Let’s see what’s behind here,” so we walked around behind the hedges.  She dropped to the ground and pulled me down with her, where we proceeded to have some wild, front-lawn nature sex, about three feet from a public sidewalk.

By the time we got back home, the Ex-Girlfriend was about to start calling the hospitals.  Diane made a beeline for her room, so she could check her pants for tell-tale grass stains.  I told the Ex that Diane was having a tough time at work and we needed to talk about some things, so we took a long walk around the block.  (Remember, cell phones weren’t invented yet.  People actually left the house and you couldn’t contact them until they came home again.)  Knowing I’m such an awful and awkward liar, I tried to work as much truth into the story as possible.

But what I was learning with Diane was that danger-sex in public places was an awful lot of fun.  The risk of getting caught made the act so much hotter and irresistible…

There was one time, though, that I came thiiiiiis close to getting caught with my pants down.

Diane and I were having a go at it in her back bedroom while the Ex was at rehearsal.  Now let me describe how our place was laid out… If you came in the door, the living room was in front of you.  If you turned right immediately, you’d go through the kitchen into a hallway.  My bedroom with the Ex was on the left.  The bathroom was the next door on the right, then Diane’s bedroom was the last door on the left, adjacent to my bedroom.

So we were right in the middle of some hot monkey love when the front door is flung open and the Ex announced, “I’m home… stop fucking now!

That wasn’t the alarming part because that’s what she always said when she came home.  But this was the first time that it applied.  But she almost always got a ride home from rehearsal and we were counting on hearing the car pull up.  This time, she walked home.

Uh-oh.

Immediately, I yanked out so fast I’m surprised the Ex didn’t think I was opening champagne in there.  We were under the covers and I had my shorts around my ankles.  I desperately tried to pull them back up and get out of bed.  I could hear her approaching, but my shorts were caught up in the covers and my ankles and they weren’t moving.

This was very bad, because while the Ex wouldn’t think twice about our being alone on the bed, being under the covers with my pants down would be another matter.  But try as I may, I was unable to quickly get myself right and all I could do is resign myself to the huge commotion that was about to be unleashed.

Except… instead of coming all the way down the hall, the Ex turned right into the bathroom to have a pee.  With the precious extra minute, I was able to pull my damned shorts up, get out of bed and get myself, er, presentable.  I was walking down the hall right as she came out of the bathroom.  She never suspected a thing.

I, however, damn near had a heart attack.  It was so much easier just to screw behind the bushes.

At the end of August, 1985, we all moved out and went our separate ways.  I still saw Diane at work, of course.  I had my own apartment about a mile away.  It was cheap, primitive and low-rent, but it was all mine and I loved it.

Diane made it over only once, where we tore one off for old time’s sake.  By then, she was starting to get on my nerves at work, with the “pretentious” stuff.  I also started sniffing around this other girl who was much younger, so Diane and I kind of drifted away from each other.  Eventually, she left the store to go and get a real job, befitting her degree.  By mid-1986, I moved to Cleveland for the opportunity to manage my own store.

I ran into Diane one more time in the 80s, at a wedding of a mutual friend.  She was with a guy about 15 years older than her.  I heard through the grapevine later that she had been engaged to some other guy who had left at the altar.  I felt terrible for her.  I was really hoping she’d found some stability and happiness.

Then in 1991, I was working in Albany NY.  Out of the blue, I got a phone call from Diane.  She was living in South Carolina and she’d gotten my number from a mutual friend.  I was thrilled to hear from her.  By that time, I’d had a couple of disastrous relationships while living in Cleveland before moving to New York, where I knew exactly no one.  I was bored and lonely and not really loving my new life.

After a couple of phone conversations, she invited me to come visit her in SC.  I didn’t have a whole lot of cash, but I had enough for an occasional plane ticket, so I jumped at the chance to go on an adventure.

Thinking about it right now, 5 years doesn’t seem that long, but at the time, it seemed like a whole lifetime since we’d last seen each other.  Maybe it was because we were both light-years away from the lives we used to lead. 

I really had no idea what to expect when I got there.  Would she still be smokin’ hot?  Would she still dig me?  Would there be hot monkey love?  Would she still be annoying?

When she picked me up at the airport, I thought she looked good.  She’d put on a little more weight, but she wasn’t the only one.  I sure wasn’t the long, lean kid I was back in the apartment anymore, either.  Still, I wondered what was in store that weekend.

I got my answer at Burger King.

I hadn’t eaten since lunch, so she stopped by the BK drive-thru on the way home.  While we were in line, she asked me to get a coupon out of her glove compartment.  When I opened it up, I saw a long strip of condoms, all attached together like lottery tickets.

From my point of view, that’s exactly what they were and every one was a winner.  We spent the weekend sexing each other up just like we used to, albeit with a couple more rest stops.  When I floated back into my store on Monday, my staff was unanimous.

They said, “If we knew a weekend like that would make you this easy to work with, we would have gotten you laid months ago.”

Diane and I spoke only a couple more times by phone after that.  I know she moved out to Colorado for a while, then I heard she went back to South Carolina.  I’d moved around a lot since then too, so neither of us had each other’s contact information.  I’ve never heard from her again.

One of the things she told me when I last saw her was that she had multiple sclerosis.  She seemed perfectly fine to me at the time, but I wonder a lot about her now.  Annoying or not, she’s always had a fond place in my heart.

In fact, while Brill was still alive, whenever I’d go out to visit him and Rik and John, someone would invariably bring up her name.  Long ago, we’d all compared notes and found that we shared many similar experiences with her.  And it was all good.  It was like a bond between us.  Then Rik, Brill and I would raise a toast. 

To Diane!” we’d say, and smile slyly to ourselves; each of us recalling some nasty little tidbit from our memory banks.  (Because he was married so young, our buddy John was the only one of us that was never with her, so he’d sit that one out.)

You know, when one girl has been with each of three guys who are lifelong friends, and there was never any bad blood about it, you know she must have been pretty special.

Cheers, Diane.  You’re one unforgettable girl.

20 comments:

  1. Wow! You got in on all over town. You just go on with your bad self! lol

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  2. Is this the time to tell ya about using the EX's pillow for "support" or was it a payback for making accusations prior to our actual Bow-Chicka-Wow-Wow times ????

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  3. "UNDER THE BOARDWALK/Out of the Su-un/UNDER THE SIDEWALK/We be hav'in some fu-un...".
    How 'bout in a hammock, standing up!

    This is a funny, warm tribute to your Olde Flame. "Diane" would be pleased.

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  4. Warm tribute, Mary Ann? Warm? I think it is pretty damn HOT, and I think Diane would want it that way!! Way to go, Cowboy!!

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  5. Raven,
    Honestly, I had no idea how the “danger” factor would make things so much more exciting… as if it was ever dull in the first place. But still, that wasn’t something I made a habit of. Diane was the only one with whom I’ve ever done that kind of thing in public.

    Hell, I was 23… what the hell did I know?

    Anonymous/Rik,
    It sounds like “just desserts” either way.

    One thing I forgot to put in this story is that when I was visiting Diane in South Carolina, she told me that during that same couple of months, the Ex banged this freshman kid she knew from her theater group who’d been following her around.

    Rather than being pissed, it actually made me feel better about the whole thing.

    Mary Ann,
    They didn’t have boardwalks in Bowling Green, unless you count Monopoly games. Standing in a hammock? I’d break an ankle for sure…

    Judie,
    At least we didn’t have to watch out for cactus. I imagine that would be an occupational hazard of being a Hot Arizona Auntie.

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  6. Funny, you downplayed the disclaimer, but gave us more of the good stuff. The only time I've ever attempted anything in public we got stopped (thankfully, before we got started) by a patrolman. I cannot believe the next to the highway thing.

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  7. DG,
    I realized that I might be scaring away some of my regular visitors because it seemed like I was about to break out a bunch of explicit porno stuff.

    But all along, I consider this all one story. I just had to break it up for spacing considerations.

    That field was wild. The things you have to do when you drive a small car. (I had a Honda Civic, she had a Pinto) I hope we didn't leave any butt prints on the hood.

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  8. Oh, you are sooo right! I once slipped on the fallen cactus pad of an opuntia ficus indica and my butt landed right on top of it. It has millions of hairlike spines that are almost impossible to see, but I sure felt them--for several months. Rod got so tired of "checking my butt."

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  9. Judie,
    I always hated those little pickers that came off in whatever touched them. We had little cacti beside our basketball hoop. (Great location, eh?) We were always getting them stuck in the ball, in our hands... one of our party-guests's giant ass...

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  10. That's the difference between guys and gals. I can think of few acceptable circumstances where me and two of my girlfriends could have been with the same guy and celebrated it down the road. Maybe us ladies should loosen up a bit?

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  11. You wouldn't break an ankle. You would be carrying on the family tradition of do'in things the hard way.
    Throughout the post, I kept hearing the old Drifters song, "Under The Boardwalk". Never even thought of Bowling Green OR Monopoly. Both seriously interfere with the tone of the story.

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  12. Thank God I don't have a GIANT ASS! It is just a regular sized ass, whatever that means!!

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  13. Jessica,
    I think a situation like that is pretty rare among guys too. It’s just that for one, we were all best friends. For the other, the timing just worked out. Brill was pretty much done w/ her (or at least not upholding his obligations) when Rik came around. And he was never really interested in anything more than a couple of rolls in the hay. Throughout all that, I was engaged. So we were never in competition.

    There was one guy, one of my “fringe” friends, that was all over Diane way back when I first met her. Him, I was pissed at because I was still trying to get something started. He should have backed the hell off. He was a dick, though. We didn’t keep him around too much longer.

    Judie,
    I’m sure your ass is within standard spec. The guy that took a tumble into our cacti was a really big dude. It probably took weeks to get all those pickers out of his ass, just due to the size of the real estate involved.

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  14. The pictures you insert (heh) into your posts are the BEST.

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  15. Funny thing is, if Diane wore red lipstick like that, she'd totally look like the girl in the first picture.

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  16. Cassie,
    I bet she was all blushy when she wrote that, too.

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  17. OMG, dangerous place sex (and just playing) is the BEST. So much fun. It's pretty fantastic to have stories like that in my memory of the guy I chose to spend the rest of my life with. Neat how that worked out.

    That summer sounds like it was so exciting, which is exactly what you need when you're 23. Here's to Bluz goin' out and gettin' it done! :)

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  18. Cristy,
    Yes, it was a very good thing to do at 23… NOT at 49… too much to lose, now. And I’m pretty sure I’d throw my shoulder out, trying to get busy in a Pinto. Well… ON a Pinto…

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