She kind of looked like Ann Romney
Part 2 -
After another round of scotch, the elderly couple paid up and toddled off to their room leaving me up at the bar with two middle age women. Both were strangely garish, yet desirable enough to hold my fascination. One, an aging Hanover County socialite well over a hundred miles from her domain, the other a bosomy, raven haired bar mistress in a tight skirt. Each appeared from different sides of the tracks, but now crouching upon the railroad ties like feral cats. In an effort to even things out a bit, I raised my glass and offered cheer - “ A holed up traveler could find no better lodgings, refreshment and company than this”
“Do what ?” laughed the blonde.
“In the company of two lovely and alluring women” I returned then lowered glass to my lips. Starr flashed a smile, but the other gave me a curious look - “What’s your name ?” Her question seemed more like a demand.
“Jim Drowning Otter” I lied.
“Drowning Otter ?” She laughed - “How in the world does an otter drown ?”
“He’s an Indian boy” Starr informed her and sharply added - “You shouldn’t make fun of another’s name” The barmaid then moved closer to me as if she was displaying alliance. I reached across the bar, gently squeezed her shoulder in appreciation then ordered another vodka lemonade. Starr smiled and then turned to make my drink. This time in a fresh glass, much taller and wider than the last, mostly vodka with a splash of lemonade. She told me this one was on her.
Tossing a good slug down my gullet, I lit another cigarette then half swiveled as to face the blonde. Two strands of her over sprayed hair were now sticking up, but somewhat cocked, like television rabbit ear antenna. Watching yet another strand slowly becoming displaced by the large fast spinning ceiling fan, I ogled her up and down and spoke in a low tone - “How in the world does an otter drown ?” Slowly turning my head and casting a leering glance at Starr, then back to the blonde’s blouse still damp and somewhat transparent, I answered - “In pure ecstasy” The hard spirits I’d been quaffing had once again transformed me into a caddish Mr. Hyde-like deviant. Any sense of decent human morality on my part had rolled off well turned curves like low fast moving clouds through the Blue Ridge Mountains.
The barmaid seemingly already on my stringer,
I was now carefully angling for another to go with that first catch.
This lounge was like a trout stream during
a caddisfly hatch.
Looking into her eyes, I offered a snarling smile and asked her name. Hearing the air rush up her expanded nostrils, I caught sight of a slight blush playing upon her face.
“Well, what’s your name ?”
Her blue eyes darted from side to side and all three antenna-like strands were wavering in the artificial breeze. Regaining her composure, she replied - “Marcia” but included no last name. She did offer a seemingly sincere apology and said I had an unusual name. Now slightly slurring her words Marcia informed me - “I’m probably going to wrap a blanket around me and dry my clothes in the guest laundry.
“Why do that ?” I asked.
“Well I can’t stroll out in the buff”
“That would be nice” I returned then offered - “I’ve a pair of swimming trunks and Tshirt you can borrow while your duds are drying” This was an attempt to get Marcia into my room, or at least insure her return to the lounge. She accepted the trunks and Tshirt, but requested I go fetch these clothing items from my room. “I’ll have another drink in the meantime” She said with a smile.
Having offered I was more or less bound to comply. Bolting out of the bar, I swiftly procured both trunks and a thin white Tshirt then returned with them to the lounge. Gulping down the rest of her margarita, Marcia thanked me and promised to return my duds. Just in case I gave her my room number.
Now Starr had my full attention. It seemed she had taken my act of kindness as means to shoo away Marcia. Obviously on purpose, she feigned accidentally dropping a plastic beer pitcher on the floor and then sensually bending over to pick it up thus allowing me a generous view of her well turned rear and legs. Rather giddy, I asked if she could do that again, but Starr smiled and told me - “Maybe later” She then filled two pitchers and strutted out towards the table of five. Upon her return I excused myself - “Gotta go to my room and make a call. I’ll be back in a short bit”
“Take your time, I’ll be here for awhile” She returned with two winks.
Back in the motor lodge room I loaded another bowl and blessed it with butane flame then drew in a tremendous amount of pungent smoke. Following a bit of lung jarring coughing and choking, I felt it tinge well with all the vodka and even more so upon finishing my smoke. Ambling back into the bar I was surprised to see that creepy cigar smoking fellow now sitting at my place at the bar with his drink and blathering away at Starr. Thin, swarthy with graying sandy hair, he had one lazy eye and extruded a particular musty body odor. One place to drink is as good as another, so I plopped down for stools down from ‘Creepy’ and Starr was soon to follow.
“So how much later ?” I inquired.
She at first seemed not to know what I was talking about then after several seconds appeared to have remembered.
“Depends on what you’re doing later” Then She purred - “I should be getting off at 6:00”
Symbolically sniffing, it was obvious she had caught the scent of high grade smoke upon me. She then whispered in my ear - “I can match whatever you are willing to share with a bottle or two of vodka.
6:00 was only 25 minutes away. I had another strong drink and waited while several weird scenarios wildly played inside my skull…
it's a bird, it's a plane, it's President Romney
-
stilltrucking
- Posts: 20607
- Joined: October 24th, 2004, 12:29 pm
- Location: Oz or somepLace like Kansas
Re: it's a bird, it's a plane, it's President Romney
Labors of a drunken Indian many miles away from home.stilltrucking wrote:Labors Of Hercules
Re: it's a bird, it's a plane, it's President Romney
A few more people trickled into the lounge including a rather dark smallish fellow who reminded me an artist’s rendition of a Homo Erectus I once saw in a library book. Standing around 4’10”, he was clad in a bright Hawaiian style shirt, wrinkled kaki shorts and shod in loafers, but upon having a closer look at his face, a chill went down my spine. Big deep set, solid black eyes not unlike a nocturnal monkey, somewhat shaded by heavy brow ridges that met an extremely low hairline. A doo that looked similar to Rolling Stones guitar player Ronnie Wood’s, complete with a stiff cockscomb on the top. Just below his small flaring nostril nose, a protruding apish muzzle sporting a slight beard-like growth. He might have been Malaysian, but in my state, I could not really tell. I was more surprised when he ambled behind the bar and greeted Starr then inquired about her day in perfect American English without a trace of any accent. Starr returned his greeting, gave a brief account of her working day then went on to introduce him to me. He was Lonny, Starr’s relief and the lounge’s bartender until closing time. Extending a gnarled hand, I grasped it and could tell by the grip, Lonny was a lot stronger than he looked.
While Starr was in a room behind the bar, Lonny and I engaged in a bit of small talk regarding current weather conditions. Motioning with a quick jerk of his gnarled thumb at the cigar smoking creep, Lonny whispered - “Freak show tonight”
“What do you mean ?” I returned.
Lonny issued a few short barks of monkey-like laughter and said - “If you’re staying the night, come back here about 11ish”
“For what ?”
Issuing another bark of laughter, he said - “You’ll see”
About that time Starr came sashaying out of the back room and around the bar. Standing beside my bar stool, she asked if I was ready. Between the drinks, smoke and my brief conversation with the hominid behind the bar, I was somewhat caught off guard by her question. It took me about half a minute to get it together and that was only after taking notice of her posturing and old familiar fire playing in those pale blue eyes. Casting a quick glance at Lonny I saw his ape-like mouth split open into a toothy smile. Was it on account of me being totally fucked-up, or were they sharp canines glimmering in the dim barroom light ? I involuntarily inhaled sharply through my nose and shuddered realizing my substance intake so far was nowhere near the usual limit. Slugging down my drink, I slid off the stool and accompanied Starr to my lodgings.
Fumbling with the key and a loose doorknob, I finally managed to let ourselves in. Swiftly hanging a do not disturb sign on the outside knob, closing the door and setting the chain lock., I made my way to the small motel room table. Pulling out one of the two chairs, I offered Starr a seat.
“What about this ?” She asked pulling two bottles from her black canvas shoulder bag.
“What have you got there ?” I inquired.
Thrusting the two bottles about three inches from my face I could not help but see a bottle of vodka and another of dark rum.
“There’s some cups by the sink” I informed her.
My eyes never left her legs as she walked over to the sink basin. As this point I felt secure in these lodgings, behind a locked and chained door having completely forgotten not only Lonny, the Java Man, but Marcia as well.
I wasn’t all that mindful of anything outside this motel room.
Some deviant thoughts swirled in my head soon to be cooled down by Starr’s next words. Holding aloft a white square plastic bucket she said - “We have no ice or mixers” Handing me the bucket, she proceeded to fish out a hand full of change from her bag - “Get me a couple of 7UPS and whatever you want. There’s a soda machine around the corner next to the ice machine.
Although not really wanting to go out into the wet weather again, I gallantly obliged. Iced-up, I then fed the soda machine with change getting five cans of 7UP and one Hawaiian Punch for a little color. I thought it odd Starr didn’t want Coke to go with the rum. Slightly staggering up the wet walkway lewd thoughts and plans once again swirled in my skull. I was a good couple a hundred miles from home, about half tanked up on top shelf vodka, all the while still buzzing from my earlier smoke, with an overly friendly, buxom raven haired woman awaiting me now just a few steps away.
I felt absolutely great and gave quick thanks to the spirits watchful over travelers, revelers, gamblers and fools…
While Starr was in a room behind the bar, Lonny and I engaged in a bit of small talk regarding current weather conditions. Motioning with a quick jerk of his gnarled thumb at the cigar smoking creep, Lonny whispered - “Freak show tonight”
“What do you mean ?” I returned.
Lonny issued a few short barks of monkey-like laughter and said - “If you’re staying the night, come back here about 11ish”
“For what ?”
Issuing another bark of laughter, he said - “You’ll see”
About that time Starr came sashaying out of the back room and around the bar. Standing beside my bar stool, she asked if I was ready. Between the drinks, smoke and my brief conversation with the hominid behind the bar, I was somewhat caught off guard by her question. It took me about half a minute to get it together and that was only after taking notice of her posturing and old familiar fire playing in those pale blue eyes. Casting a quick glance at Lonny I saw his ape-like mouth split open into a toothy smile. Was it on account of me being totally fucked-up, or were they sharp canines glimmering in the dim barroom light ? I involuntarily inhaled sharply through my nose and shuddered realizing my substance intake so far was nowhere near the usual limit. Slugging down my drink, I slid off the stool and accompanied Starr to my lodgings.
Fumbling with the key and a loose doorknob, I finally managed to let ourselves in. Swiftly hanging a do not disturb sign on the outside knob, closing the door and setting the chain lock., I made my way to the small motel room table. Pulling out one of the two chairs, I offered Starr a seat.
“What about this ?” She asked pulling two bottles from her black canvas shoulder bag.
“What have you got there ?” I inquired.
Thrusting the two bottles about three inches from my face I could not help but see a bottle of vodka and another of dark rum.
“There’s some cups by the sink” I informed her.
My eyes never left her legs as she walked over to the sink basin. As this point I felt secure in these lodgings, behind a locked and chained door having completely forgotten not only Lonny, the Java Man, but Marcia as well.
I wasn’t all that mindful of anything outside this motel room.
Some deviant thoughts swirled in my head soon to be cooled down by Starr’s next words. Holding aloft a white square plastic bucket she said - “We have no ice or mixers” Handing me the bucket, she proceeded to fish out a hand full of change from her bag - “Get me a couple of 7UPS and whatever you want. There’s a soda machine around the corner next to the ice machine.
Although not really wanting to go out into the wet weather again, I gallantly obliged. Iced-up, I then fed the soda machine with change getting five cans of 7UP and one Hawaiian Punch for a little color. I thought it odd Starr didn’t want Coke to go with the rum. Slightly staggering up the wet walkway lewd thoughts and plans once again swirled in my skull. I was a good couple a hundred miles from home, about half tanked up on top shelf vodka, all the while still buzzing from my earlier smoke, with an overly friendly, buxom raven haired woman awaiting me now just a few steps away.
I felt absolutely great and gave quick thanks to the spirits watchful over travelers, revelers, gamblers and fools…
Re: it's a bird, it's a plane, it's President Romney
Sitting an armload of soft drinks and ice bucket upon the walkway, I searched my pockets for a motel room key that was left on the table by an impaired individual.
“Shit !” I cursed, then proceeded to knock upon the door. When my gentle tapping provided no results, I began to bang, but that didn't bring Starr to the door either. The elderly couple who were drinking in the bar earlier gave me a disgusted look and shook their heads while walking by, kept somewhat dry under colorful umbrellas. I returned with a simple greeting and commented on the weather then continued banging my fist upon the door as the couple scurried away. Just when I was about to head up to the office for another key, Starr opened up for me. As we gathered up sodas and ice off the walk she asked me how long I had been standing outside. Doffing my dripping hat and coat, I replied - “Not long at all. It’s really raining cats, dogs and frogs out there” Sitting two 7UPs along with my Hawaiian Punch on our party table she put the rest in the mini fridge.
“So how do you want yours ?”
Ready to shift to something else, I said - “Half rum, half 7UP with a splash of punch on top”
In no time we were set up, I enjoyed my mixed drink while Starr filled a plastic motel cup with straight rum and had her soda beside it as a chaser.
“So what was that aroma you carried back into the lounge earlier ?”
“What do you mean ?” Although I knew what she was getting at, the question slurred out anyway.
“Smoke” she returned with a puckering grin.
“Oh yeah” I said - “Smoke” Rising out of the chair I ambled over to my travel bag and retrieved not only the stash, but a small ceramic drinking cup that had been forgotten. Not all that crazy about drinking out of plastic, I poured my drink into the cup then proceeded to load one up. A fine blend of several high grade varieties, the weed emitted a pungent fragrance upon opening the small glass jar container.
“Hmmmmmmmmmmm” Starr purred - “Smells delightful”
“Not bad as far as whoodee goes”
“What’s whoodee ?”
I went on to explain how the word whoodee was from a distant area’s jargon - “It’s what we call this stuff”
All ready for firing, I passed the pipe to Starr and blessed it with butane flame.
Taking only two puffs off the first bowl, I loaded another and let Starr enjoy it all herself.
Finishing, Starr issued a -“Wow !” and then giddily blathered away about the good time she was having followed by a -”Thanks, I needed that”
“Not a problem. Grabbed you right by the boo boo, eh ? “ I said while mixing up another drink. While at the mini fridge for some more ice, I cast another glance at Starr that ascended from those black suede high heel pumps, up her legs, torso and settled upon her face, framed by raven black hair with greenish glints. ‘Colorful in a mismatched way, somewhat sensuous, quite stoned and getting snockered’ I thought, then began to picture her in my head with less clothing on in some cheesecake pose. Sure they were perverted thoughts, but it seemed we both had something similar in mind, especially when Starr returned my gaze with a seductive smile, crossed her legs and wiggled one foot. Allowing myself a twisted grin, I turned on the small motel room radio/alarm clock and found a decent rock-n-roll station.
“Thanks for keeping me company tonight” I told her while seating myself.
“And thanks for the same” She smiled.
Starr and I quaffed liquor and engaged in a bit of small talk. It wasn't even 7:00PM yet and we still had plenty of time ahead of us. Starr informed me she didn't have to be anywhere until morning. Conversing more with my foul weather companion, I learned she was a widowed mother of three children now all grown. Her husband, Alvin suffered a fatal heart attack some two years ago. Four days a week, Starr worked at two different jobs.
“I could get by with what Al left me, but I could use a little more”
At 48, Starr was still a fine figure of a woman and I’ll admit some of the gestures and looks from her made me tremble a bit in a nervous but otherwise giddy juvenile way. I had been out with a few of older women before, but they were either coworkers, or home town ladies, old friends. Never had I been out with a widow before and now my mind sought to remember if there was any ill luck associated with such. Starr seemed forthright and honest. She probably wanted an enjoyable, no strings attached fling with a stranger rather than local suitors. Someone she wouldn't have to see on a regular basis. Watching her get up and walk to the bathroom, I said - “Very nice”, then went back to quaffing my drink. The rum was having a different effect on me and there were thoughts of making a move on Starr upon her return. Packing another bowl, I puffed away to an old Doobie Brothers song while trying to make sense of the framed still life print hanging above the bed. ‘Is that a fly painted on that pear ?’ I asked myself, but upon closer inspection it was a real fly that had been swatted and left upon the picture, obviously overlooked by housekeeping as it appeared shriveled with a bit of dried innards splattered on the adjacent apple.
Death on still life.
I was standing by the bed still admiring this motel room art when Starr emerged. Advancing to meet her, we halted about a foot from each other, then both of us leaned in, our arms open for a passionate embrace...
“Shit !” I cursed, then proceeded to knock upon the door. When my gentle tapping provided no results, I began to bang, but that didn't bring Starr to the door either. The elderly couple who were drinking in the bar earlier gave me a disgusted look and shook their heads while walking by, kept somewhat dry under colorful umbrellas. I returned with a simple greeting and commented on the weather then continued banging my fist upon the door as the couple scurried away. Just when I was about to head up to the office for another key, Starr opened up for me. As we gathered up sodas and ice off the walk she asked me how long I had been standing outside. Doffing my dripping hat and coat, I replied - “Not long at all. It’s really raining cats, dogs and frogs out there” Sitting two 7UPs along with my Hawaiian Punch on our party table she put the rest in the mini fridge.
“So how do you want yours ?”
Ready to shift to something else, I said - “Half rum, half 7UP with a splash of punch on top”
In no time we were set up, I enjoyed my mixed drink while Starr filled a plastic motel cup with straight rum and had her soda beside it as a chaser.
“So what was that aroma you carried back into the lounge earlier ?”
“What do you mean ?” Although I knew what she was getting at, the question slurred out anyway.
“Smoke” she returned with a puckering grin.
“Oh yeah” I said - “Smoke” Rising out of the chair I ambled over to my travel bag and retrieved not only the stash, but a small ceramic drinking cup that had been forgotten. Not all that crazy about drinking out of plastic, I poured my drink into the cup then proceeded to load one up. A fine blend of several high grade varieties, the weed emitted a pungent fragrance upon opening the small glass jar container.
“Hmmmmmmmmmmm” Starr purred - “Smells delightful”
“Not bad as far as whoodee goes”
“What’s whoodee ?”
I went on to explain how the word whoodee was from a distant area’s jargon - “It’s what we call this stuff”
All ready for firing, I passed the pipe to Starr and blessed it with butane flame.
Taking only two puffs off the first bowl, I loaded another and let Starr enjoy it all herself.
Finishing, Starr issued a -“Wow !” and then giddily blathered away about the good time she was having followed by a -”Thanks, I needed that”
“Not a problem. Grabbed you right by the boo boo, eh ? “ I said while mixing up another drink. While at the mini fridge for some more ice, I cast another glance at Starr that ascended from those black suede high heel pumps, up her legs, torso and settled upon her face, framed by raven black hair with greenish glints. ‘Colorful in a mismatched way, somewhat sensuous, quite stoned and getting snockered’ I thought, then began to picture her in my head with less clothing on in some cheesecake pose. Sure they were perverted thoughts, but it seemed we both had something similar in mind, especially when Starr returned my gaze with a seductive smile, crossed her legs and wiggled one foot. Allowing myself a twisted grin, I turned on the small motel room radio/alarm clock and found a decent rock-n-roll station.
“Thanks for keeping me company tonight” I told her while seating myself.
“And thanks for the same” She smiled.
Starr and I quaffed liquor and engaged in a bit of small talk. It wasn't even 7:00PM yet and we still had plenty of time ahead of us. Starr informed me she didn't have to be anywhere until morning. Conversing more with my foul weather companion, I learned she was a widowed mother of three children now all grown. Her husband, Alvin suffered a fatal heart attack some two years ago. Four days a week, Starr worked at two different jobs.
“I could get by with what Al left me, but I could use a little more”
At 48, Starr was still a fine figure of a woman and I’ll admit some of the gestures and looks from her made me tremble a bit in a nervous but otherwise giddy juvenile way. I had been out with a few of older women before, but they were either coworkers, or home town ladies, old friends. Never had I been out with a widow before and now my mind sought to remember if there was any ill luck associated with such. Starr seemed forthright and honest. She probably wanted an enjoyable, no strings attached fling with a stranger rather than local suitors. Someone she wouldn't have to see on a regular basis. Watching her get up and walk to the bathroom, I said - “Very nice”, then went back to quaffing my drink. The rum was having a different effect on me and there were thoughts of making a move on Starr upon her return. Packing another bowl, I puffed away to an old Doobie Brothers song while trying to make sense of the framed still life print hanging above the bed. ‘Is that a fly painted on that pear ?’ I asked myself, but upon closer inspection it was a real fly that had been swatted and left upon the picture, obviously overlooked by housekeeping as it appeared shriveled with a bit of dried innards splattered on the adjacent apple.
Death on still life.
I was standing by the bed still admiring this motel room art when Starr emerged. Advancing to meet her, we halted about a foot from each other, then both of us leaned in, our arms open for a passionate embrace...
-
stilltrucking
- Posts: 20607
- Joined: October 24th, 2004, 12:29 pm
- Location: Oz or somepLace like Kansas
Re: it's a bird, it's a plane, it's President Romney
President Romney
I am trying to imagine the future without him.
Could he have been our last best great white hope?
I just don't know anymore.
I am trying to imagine the future without him.
Could he have been our last best great white hope?
I just don't know anymore.
- Attachments
-
Re: it's a bird, it's a plane, it's President Romney
Starr's arms closed around me like a steel vice somewhat hampering my ability to grope while embracing her. She was a hard kisser with a tongue as strong as a conch’s foot. Fortunately this was not the cold season because if my nose was plugged up, I wouldn't of been able to breath. Starr’s body was pressed extremely close to mine and I felt an old familiar stirring within part of me. Shifting my eyes from her face while being pushed backwards by this over passionate wildcat, the last thing I saw before hitting the bed was that smashed dead fly upon a painted pear.
“Wait a minute !” My words managed to escape both our lips. I wasn't quite ready to roll in the hay so early in the evening. Selfishly, I wanted to be more in control of this situation. More titillation would be in order, an erotic show, or courtship dance so to speak. Me sitting at the small motel table, enjoying my drink while watching Starr bounce around and maybe strike some seductive poses clad only in undergarments, high heels, or less. Cheesy and somewhat degrading perhaps, but why not ? Half snockered, smoked up and in the company of a buxom woman quite ready to engage in a passionate bout of lovemaking, my sense of morals had gone ka-put .
Rising up on her arms above me, there was a fierce look in Starr’s eyes.
“What ?” Starr hissed then her face somewhat softened and she asked - “What’s wrong baby ?”
Slipping out from under her, I got up and made for the table. Pouring myself a straight shot of rum, I slugged it down, smiled and said - “You’re a fine figure of a woman, how’s about coming out of your work attire and let me gaze upon your beauty for awhile”
“Oh one of them, huh ?” She giggled.
“One of what ?”
“Al was the same way”
“What way ?”
Instead of answering me, Starr slowly began unbuttoning her red blouse and revealing a black lacy bra which restrained a pair of large alabaster hued breasts. Right off the bat I noticed a tattoo on the left one and upon closer inspection it was two small red hearts with the name Alvin between them. Starr started to say something, but her lips closed in a strange grin as she pulled off the blouse and wiggled out of that tight black skirt. I felt a small thick stream of rum tinged drool running down my chin. Wow ! What a dish. My right hand trembled a bit while pouring another slug of rum. Black lacy bra panties along with thigh high stockings, garter belt and pumps of the same somber color. A mourning widow, or someone who definitely had plans of hooking up with another on this rainy night ? Kind of big boned and as tall as me, she had a certain sex appeal, especially for one in my substance addled state of mind. Before I could feign accidentally knocking a cigarette lighter, or empty plastic motel cup upon the floor and asking her to pick it up, Starr turned around, slowly bent over to scoop her skirt up off the worn green carpet. Neatly folding and placing her garments upon the low motel dresser, Starr then removed her brassier exposing two large, slightly sagging, but otherwise beautiful breasts. Sashaying back to the table, she jiggled them a bit then leaned down with her hands upon her knees, red lips puckered only inches from mine.
Just as my hands instinctively reached out to cop a feel there came a loud knocking upon the door.
Although interrupted I rather enjoyed the bouncing jiggle as she quickly stood up.
“Who the hell can that be ?” Starr asked in a hissing whisper then told me - “She who it is and send em away !” She ordered while sprinting to the bathroom.
‘Hope it ain't the cops’ I thought while hiding my stash - “Hold on a second !” I barked at the door while lighting another cigarette in an attempt to mask any incriminating scents. Hot boxing the cigarette and exhaling clouds of smoke, I ambled over and opened the door slightly with the chain still on. My eyes adjusting to see through the crack and outside, I saw it was Marcia. She was clad in my old Tshirt and swimming trunks.
“Well are you going to let me in ?”
Turning and casting a quick glance at the bathroom door then back at Marcia, I should of told her now was not a good time, but closed then unchained the door and let her in anyway. It was an old Tshirt that didn't fit me anymore, brought more or less with me to Floyd County in case I needed clean cloth to check my oil. On Marcia it looked great doing little to conceal the full curves of her breasts. Marcia’s blonde hair was wet as if she had just came out of a shower.
“That damned dryer isn't drying all that spiffy” She blurted out - ‘It’s taking the longest time to dry my clothes”
Before I could offer any response in regards to Marcia’s misfortune, Starr’s voice came booming through the bathroom door - “Who is it ?”
Not thinking all that clearly, I replied - “Come out and see for yourself”
At that Starr’s head and part of her bare upper torso leaned sideways out the door and with a scowl on her face she said - “Oh it’s her”
“I’m sorry” Marcia snickered - “Am I intruding on something ?”
“Just a little” Returned Starr strutting out with a small motel towel barely wrapped around her almost naked body. Sitting down, I poured another slug of rum and took another quick look at the fly long smashed upon that still life print.
“I was just letting you know that it may take awhile to dry my stuff” Then she added - “After all you did give me your room number”
With a mysterious smile upon her face, Marcia turned to the door and said - “I’ll be back at the lounge in case you guys want to get together for a drink later”
With that, she stepped back out into the rainy night. Before I could even get up, Starr let her towel drop and quick stepped it towards the door then secured the chain. With a swift much appreciated jiggling twist of her well turned body, Starr walked to the bed with all the grace of a big she panther. Laying down on her side, she motioned me over with her index finger. Poring a good measure of dark rum down my gullet, I swiftly came out of boots, socks, jeans and shirt. She reached for the lamp, but I insisted - “Let’s leave it on”
At that she smiled and we proceeded to have a rather lively, dimly lit roll in the hay…
“Wait a minute !” My words managed to escape both our lips. I wasn't quite ready to roll in the hay so early in the evening. Selfishly, I wanted to be more in control of this situation. More titillation would be in order, an erotic show, or courtship dance so to speak. Me sitting at the small motel table, enjoying my drink while watching Starr bounce around and maybe strike some seductive poses clad only in undergarments, high heels, or less. Cheesy and somewhat degrading perhaps, but why not ? Half snockered, smoked up and in the company of a buxom woman quite ready to engage in a passionate bout of lovemaking, my sense of morals had gone ka-put .
Rising up on her arms above me, there was a fierce look in Starr’s eyes.
“What ?” Starr hissed then her face somewhat softened and she asked - “What’s wrong baby ?”
Slipping out from under her, I got up and made for the table. Pouring myself a straight shot of rum, I slugged it down, smiled and said - “You’re a fine figure of a woman, how’s about coming out of your work attire and let me gaze upon your beauty for awhile”
“Oh one of them, huh ?” She giggled.
“One of what ?”
“Al was the same way”
“What way ?”
Instead of answering me, Starr slowly began unbuttoning her red blouse and revealing a black lacy bra which restrained a pair of large alabaster hued breasts. Right off the bat I noticed a tattoo on the left one and upon closer inspection it was two small red hearts with the name Alvin between them. Starr started to say something, but her lips closed in a strange grin as she pulled off the blouse and wiggled out of that tight black skirt. I felt a small thick stream of rum tinged drool running down my chin. Wow ! What a dish. My right hand trembled a bit while pouring another slug of rum. Black lacy bra panties along with thigh high stockings, garter belt and pumps of the same somber color. A mourning widow, or someone who definitely had plans of hooking up with another on this rainy night ? Kind of big boned and as tall as me, she had a certain sex appeal, especially for one in my substance addled state of mind. Before I could feign accidentally knocking a cigarette lighter, or empty plastic motel cup upon the floor and asking her to pick it up, Starr turned around, slowly bent over to scoop her skirt up off the worn green carpet. Neatly folding and placing her garments upon the low motel dresser, Starr then removed her brassier exposing two large, slightly sagging, but otherwise beautiful breasts. Sashaying back to the table, she jiggled them a bit then leaned down with her hands upon her knees, red lips puckered only inches from mine.
Just as my hands instinctively reached out to cop a feel there came a loud knocking upon the door.
Although interrupted I rather enjoyed the bouncing jiggle as she quickly stood up.
“Who the hell can that be ?” Starr asked in a hissing whisper then told me - “She who it is and send em away !” She ordered while sprinting to the bathroom.
‘Hope it ain't the cops’ I thought while hiding my stash - “Hold on a second !” I barked at the door while lighting another cigarette in an attempt to mask any incriminating scents. Hot boxing the cigarette and exhaling clouds of smoke, I ambled over and opened the door slightly with the chain still on. My eyes adjusting to see through the crack and outside, I saw it was Marcia. She was clad in my old Tshirt and swimming trunks.
“Well are you going to let me in ?”
Turning and casting a quick glance at the bathroom door then back at Marcia, I should of told her now was not a good time, but closed then unchained the door and let her in anyway. It was an old Tshirt that didn't fit me anymore, brought more or less with me to Floyd County in case I needed clean cloth to check my oil. On Marcia it looked great doing little to conceal the full curves of her breasts. Marcia’s blonde hair was wet as if she had just came out of a shower.
“That damned dryer isn't drying all that spiffy” She blurted out - ‘It’s taking the longest time to dry my clothes”
Before I could offer any response in regards to Marcia’s misfortune, Starr’s voice came booming through the bathroom door - “Who is it ?”
Not thinking all that clearly, I replied - “Come out and see for yourself”
At that Starr’s head and part of her bare upper torso leaned sideways out the door and with a scowl on her face she said - “Oh it’s her”
“I’m sorry” Marcia snickered - “Am I intruding on something ?”
“Just a little” Returned Starr strutting out with a small motel towel barely wrapped around her almost naked body. Sitting down, I poured another slug of rum and took another quick look at the fly long smashed upon that still life print.
“I was just letting you know that it may take awhile to dry my stuff” Then she added - “After all you did give me your room number”
With a mysterious smile upon her face, Marcia turned to the door and said - “I’ll be back at the lounge in case you guys want to get together for a drink later”
With that, she stepped back out into the rainy night. Before I could even get up, Starr let her towel drop and quick stepped it towards the door then secured the chain. With a swift much appreciated jiggling twist of her well turned body, Starr walked to the bed with all the grace of a big she panther. Laying down on her side, she motioned me over with her index finger. Poring a good measure of dark rum down my gullet, I swiftly came out of boots, socks, jeans and shirt. She reached for the lamp, but I insisted - “Let’s leave it on”
At that she smiled and we proceeded to have a rather lively, dimly lit roll in the hay…
Re: it's a bird, it's a plane, it's President Romney
Laying face to face with each other, Starr attempted to engage me in a bit of dreamy eyed pillow talk, but I had a couple of other things on my mind. One of them being Marcia and the other concerned what Lonny told me of a freak show.
“What goes on at the lounge late at night ?”
Starr seemed slightly put off by my question - “What ?”
“That guy Lonny said something about a freak show at the lounge later tonight”
Rising to a sitting position, Starr gave me a strange look, laughed and then said something about ‘Dirty George and Delilah‘.
“Dirty George and Delilah ?”
Sliding off the bed, Starr bounced it on over to our table, got two cigarettes out of my pack, a lighter and glass ashtray. Lighting both of them up together, she passed one my way and stood by the bed all but naked smoking. Looking straight ahead instead of down at me, she inquired - “So did you enjoy yourself ?”
Realizing my question about a may have been a tad insulting, especially after what we just did, I had to say something more positive - “Very much so and I was hoping you will spend the night with me here” adding - “That is if you haven’t any other plans”
Smiling, she leaned towards me dipped her ashes, stood up straight with her bare bosom thrust out, exhaled a long stream of smoke and said - “I don’t have to be anywhere until later tomorrow morning”
“That’s great, Starr, we can pick something to snack on from that little diner beside this place, have some more drinks, maybe smoke a few more bowls, cuddle up and watch a little television”
Taking a seat beside me on the bed she said - “That diner is going to be closing in an half a hour or so, but they have munchies at the lounge” Starr went on to run down a list of bar food. I guess chicken fingers and fries would have to suffice. Informing me that she was not hungry yet, Starr asked if I could pack another bowl. It was only a little after 8:00 and I had sobered up a little.
“Sounds like a plan”
She seemed comfortable enough with me not to be concerned about getting dressed or even wrapping a blanket around herself. Clad only in stockings and a garter belt, she was quite a pleasant sight sitting there at that little motel table. She told me how her and Al use to smoke, but since he passed she rarely came across any good weed. Always generous, I removed the cellophane off a cigarette pack and proceeded to pour a good amount of my stash into it - “Here stick this somewhere safe in your bag” Her company was greatly appreciated and going as far as making an uncertain statement, I informed her - “I’ll be passing this way with some friends here in about a couple of weeks, if you like and can get the time off work, you can go camping with me. You do like to camp, don’t you ?” True we would be heading into the hills again, but this motel was a bit our intended course, but my friends could be persuaded to take a detour. Why not ? Starr would be fine camping company and perhaps she had some friends.
She jumped at the chance - “You really mean it ? I haven’t camped since I was in my twenties" At the prospect of future time together Starr became quite giddy and quickly got into the rum again. She inquired what we would be doing at camp. Having a straight shot of rum myself I replied - “Fish or hike during the day and revel at night. In fact I've been playing around with the idea of camping down on the New River or maybe at Claytor Lake maybe hooking into some muskies rumored to be there” However any fond thought of fighting a muskie soon faded and I was back to ogling along with some playful, yet gentle groping and tweaking. Starr was getting a little more snockered and seemed not to mind at all. ’Why do all the good ones live so far away ?’ I asked myself while staring at the woman setting across from me. Of course I had an extremely good buzz going on, but any future events and the certainty of tomorrow’s sobriety could very well change attitudes. The mere though of such a dismal not so distant future had me pouring another slug of rum into my cup. It was still early and I had the option of staying another night. Perhaps Starr would invite me to her pad. This idea would be presented later, but for now on this blissful night, I would concern myself with what was at hand, a pair of well turned legs under the table.
“I hope Muffy is passed out in her room by now” Starr stated.
“Muffy ?”
“Yeah that preppy chick running around in your swimming trunks. Better throw them away and get a new pair”
“Oh you mean Marcia”
“Whatever” she laughed.
Reaching a bit further and gently caressing Starr’s inner thigh I chuckled - “Did you hear where she was coming from ? A George Bush fund raising event down in Roanoke”
“Bush ?” She laughed - “What a stiff. My Alvin was a union man and told me Bush is a damned Nazi”
“Nazi ?”
Quaffing down her rum Starr went on to tell me how Bush’s father Prescott was a card carrying member of the American national socialist party. Having never heard this before I was quite surprised - “Well I’ll be damned. I thought Bush, Reagan and the rest of that crew were just run of the mill imperialists like the rest of those evil fuckers running the show” Politics didn't seem to go all that well in my naked inebriated state, but I was more puzzled by Starr’s next words - “Screw her”
“Screw who ?”
“Muffy, I hope she is at the bar later”
“You want me to screw Muffy ?”
Starr cut me a slit eyed look and replied - “What you do is your own business. No I’m saying let her be at the bar”
Now I was curious - “Why ?” It seemed Starr had a wild streak in her.
Weird fires now played in her eyes and she informed me - “I’m off the clock and can say what I want. Let’s party with Muffy, if she’s still there”
“Party ?”
“Why not ? Get Muffy all messed up and take her to school” This had me wondering what she meant prompting another gentle nipple tweak.
“I don’t need any trouble”
At this point I had almost given up on any notions of sharing the rest of this rainy night with two women, especially with one having ill feelings for the other. No late night freak-a-rama was worth any crazy drunken drama, especially involving myself, many miles from home and holding. The present situation seemed exciting enough without having to be in the middle of some unnecessary drunken barroom brawl. Sure Marcia’s usual daily goings on probably did not involve any overly friendly interactions with women such as Starr or long haired revelers like me, but she didn't deserve any hard biting ere. I thought how dreadful circumstances such as this savage rainstorm bring people together. Aside from a small bit of haughtiness displayed no doubt to remind others of her elevated status, Marcia’s actions were not all that insulting to me. Marcia was not only thoughtful enough to come to my room and let me know about the dryer, but invited us to join her later at the lounge. Of course she was inebriated and far removed from her usual social circles. Having another big slug of rum I took a gander at Starr’s bare bosom and wondered how she would look bra less in that Tshirt of mine that Marcia was now wearing. Taking full notice of what I was leering at all the while not having a clue of the deviant fishing stream ‘fly rod’ thoughts again swirling in my mind, Starr jiggled for me. Quite appreciative, I told her - “And earlier upon pulling into this place I thought my night would be one of naught to do but laying on the bed and flicking through television channels”
“So what would you be doing back home ?” She asked while pouring herself another drink.
“There’s probably a good chance I wouldn't be sitting in a motel room partying naked with a lovely almost equally naked person such as yourself”
For a brief moment I thought of my wife, or lack of, off on another business trip with her coworker Richard. I had been married for six years and probably only spent two of those together with my wife. There was no doubt in my mind Richard was dicking my wife, just as she probably had no doubts I was out doing my own thing as well. It seemed it had turned into a marriage of convenience, two paychecks going into the mortgage and other bills. In the beginning I was ready for a change and to become a family man, but early on my first wife made it quite clear she did not want to have and raise children that would take away from her professional life which had me wondering why she even got married. Not the person I was earlier engaged to. She always volunteered to take these business trips and now was in the Adirondacks with Dick. Oddly enough aside from our honeymoon whenever we traveled anywhere her widowed mother accompanied us. The whole experience thus far had transformed me into very jaded if not dissatisfied individual when it came to long lasting loving relationships. Family and true friendships meant more and I could always count upon my blood kin and old friends, people in my life she seemed not overly fond of. My home life was not all that bad, Coming and going as I pleased, never hurting for cash, adventurous weekend excursions into the wild hinterlands and party towns, camping, fishing smoking, drinking with friends, romping with women either in a tent or motel room. In my mid thirties I was not far removed from the person I had been during the 70s. While some of my old crowd had cut their hair, cleaned up their act, gotten married, moved within new circles, or accepted Jesus and no longer sat by our fires, I associated with those who still did. As the age of Ronald Reagan and his successor George Bush wore on, there were less of us sitting around those big campfires.
“Probably in some snooty ass Williamsburg tavern drinking overpriced booze” I added.
Actually it felt quite good to be away from the colonial capitol now jammed packed with tourists. I really enjoyed my few days in Floyd County, but this stopover proved rather enjoyable as well. Although she mentioned her deceased husband on occasion, Starr did not overly inquire about my personal life, but she did want to know more about the nightlife of Williamsburg. “ A multicultural tourist and college town with more hotels, motels and restaurants than you could shake a stick at. The bars all pretty much suck, either preppy college hangouts, or tourist theme taverns where the assholes won’t hesitate to cut someone like me off after only three or four drinks. They’re all in walking distance and will suffice if I’m too looped to drive anywhere better. There‘s a few my friends and I aren‘t allowed to drink in anymore”
“Places frequented by normal people” She laughed and went on to tell me that her bar was a hopping place on some nights - “Probably not so much tonight because of the weather” This had me thinking of what Lonny told me earlier.
Seeing a chance to inquire about this again, I asked - “So what about Dirty George and Delilah ?”
“Oh you mean our weekend entertainment ?” She giggled
“What is it like dinner theatre or something ?” I knew such a form of entertainment existed back in Williamsburg.
“Just wait, you’ll see” Starr purred then leaned in to run her moist tongue along my jaw and neck. By this time I alright with doing exactly that, just waiting, but not in a uncomfortable manner. Starr rose from the table, slightly staggered over to her shoes, tried slipping them on while standing, but had to perform this task while sitting on the bed. Then she got up again and began slowly dancing to America’s Horse with No Name playing on the radio. It was weirdly erotic and at times I couldn't hold back a sardonic bark or two of laughter.
“After two days in the desert sun
My skin began to turn red
After three days in the desert fun
I was looking at a river bed
And the story it told of a river that flowed
Made me sad to think it was dead”
For some odd reason I was glad when that song ended and the next one, Deep Purple’s Hush proved much too fast for Starr’s dancing ability in her present condition. She instead plopped down on the bed and wiggled. “Dance for me !” She slurred , but I informed her that too much rum and vodka tinged none too well in a cocktail shaker. Instead I ambled over for another horizontal boogie with her in the bed.
We rolled around until about 9:30 and by then I knew there was a need to get something in my belly instead of booze if my reveling continued. Listening to my stomach’s gurgling growls, I said - “Alright let’s get dressed and get some vittles”
Dudded up, with all of the lipstick washed off my face and neck, I accompanied Starr back into the lounge…
“What goes on at the lounge late at night ?”
Starr seemed slightly put off by my question - “What ?”
“That guy Lonny said something about a freak show at the lounge later tonight”
Rising to a sitting position, Starr gave me a strange look, laughed and then said something about ‘Dirty George and Delilah‘.
“Dirty George and Delilah ?”
Sliding off the bed, Starr bounced it on over to our table, got two cigarettes out of my pack, a lighter and glass ashtray. Lighting both of them up together, she passed one my way and stood by the bed all but naked smoking. Looking straight ahead instead of down at me, she inquired - “So did you enjoy yourself ?”
Realizing my question about a may have been a tad insulting, especially after what we just did, I had to say something more positive - “Very much so and I was hoping you will spend the night with me here” adding - “That is if you haven’t any other plans”
Smiling, she leaned towards me dipped her ashes, stood up straight with her bare bosom thrust out, exhaled a long stream of smoke and said - “I don’t have to be anywhere until later tomorrow morning”
“That’s great, Starr, we can pick something to snack on from that little diner beside this place, have some more drinks, maybe smoke a few more bowls, cuddle up and watch a little television”
Taking a seat beside me on the bed she said - “That diner is going to be closing in an half a hour or so, but they have munchies at the lounge” Starr went on to run down a list of bar food. I guess chicken fingers and fries would have to suffice. Informing me that she was not hungry yet, Starr asked if I could pack another bowl. It was only a little after 8:00 and I had sobered up a little.
“Sounds like a plan”
She seemed comfortable enough with me not to be concerned about getting dressed or even wrapping a blanket around herself. Clad only in stockings and a garter belt, she was quite a pleasant sight sitting there at that little motel table. She told me how her and Al use to smoke, but since he passed she rarely came across any good weed. Always generous, I removed the cellophane off a cigarette pack and proceeded to pour a good amount of my stash into it - “Here stick this somewhere safe in your bag” Her company was greatly appreciated and going as far as making an uncertain statement, I informed her - “I’ll be passing this way with some friends here in about a couple of weeks, if you like and can get the time off work, you can go camping with me. You do like to camp, don’t you ?” True we would be heading into the hills again, but this motel was a bit our intended course, but my friends could be persuaded to take a detour. Why not ? Starr would be fine camping company and perhaps she had some friends.
She jumped at the chance - “You really mean it ? I haven’t camped since I was in my twenties" At the prospect of future time together Starr became quite giddy and quickly got into the rum again. She inquired what we would be doing at camp. Having a straight shot of rum myself I replied - “Fish or hike during the day and revel at night. In fact I've been playing around with the idea of camping down on the New River or maybe at Claytor Lake maybe hooking into some muskies rumored to be there” However any fond thought of fighting a muskie soon faded and I was back to ogling along with some playful, yet gentle groping and tweaking. Starr was getting a little more snockered and seemed not to mind at all. ’Why do all the good ones live so far away ?’ I asked myself while staring at the woman setting across from me. Of course I had an extremely good buzz going on, but any future events and the certainty of tomorrow’s sobriety could very well change attitudes. The mere though of such a dismal not so distant future had me pouring another slug of rum into my cup. It was still early and I had the option of staying another night. Perhaps Starr would invite me to her pad. This idea would be presented later, but for now on this blissful night, I would concern myself with what was at hand, a pair of well turned legs under the table.
“I hope Muffy is passed out in her room by now” Starr stated.
“Muffy ?”
“Yeah that preppy chick running around in your swimming trunks. Better throw them away and get a new pair”
“Oh you mean Marcia”
“Whatever” she laughed.
Reaching a bit further and gently caressing Starr’s inner thigh I chuckled - “Did you hear where she was coming from ? A George Bush fund raising event down in Roanoke”
“Bush ?” She laughed - “What a stiff. My Alvin was a union man and told me Bush is a damned Nazi”
“Nazi ?”
Quaffing down her rum Starr went on to tell me how Bush’s father Prescott was a card carrying member of the American national socialist party. Having never heard this before I was quite surprised - “Well I’ll be damned. I thought Bush, Reagan and the rest of that crew were just run of the mill imperialists like the rest of those evil fuckers running the show” Politics didn't seem to go all that well in my naked inebriated state, but I was more puzzled by Starr’s next words - “Screw her”
“Screw who ?”
“Muffy, I hope she is at the bar later”
“You want me to screw Muffy ?”
Starr cut me a slit eyed look and replied - “What you do is your own business. No I’m saying let her be at the bar”
Now I was curious - “Why ?” It seemed Starr had a wild streak in her.
Weird fires now played in her eyes and she informed me - “I’m off the clock and can say what I want. Let’s party with Muffy, if she’s still there”
“Party ?”
“Why not ? Get Muffy all messed up and take her to school” This had me wondering what she meant prompting another gentle nipple tweak.
“I don’t need any trouble”
At this point I had almost given up on any notions of sharing the rest of this rainy night with two women, especially with one having ill feelings for the other. No late night freak-a-rama was worth any crazy drunken drama, especially involving myself, many miles from home and holding. The present situation seemed exciting enough without having to be in the middle of some unnecessary drunken barroom brawl. Sure Marcia’s usual daily goings on probably did not involve any overly friendly interactions with women such as Starr or long haired revelers like me, but she didn't deserve any hard biting ere. I thought how dreadful circumstances such as this savage rainstorm bring people together. Aside from a small bit of haughtiness displayed no doubt to remind others of her elevated status, Marcia’s actions were not all that insulting to me. Marcia was not only thoughtful enough to come to my room and let me know about the dryer, but invited us to join her later at the lounge. Of course she was inebriated and far removed from her usual social circles. Having another big slug of rum I took a gander at Starr’s bare bosom and wondered how she would look bra less in that Tshirt of mine that Marcia was now wearing. Taking full notice of what I was leering at all the while not having a clue of the deviant fishing stream ‘fly rod’ thoughts again swirling in my mind, Starr jiggled for me. Quite appreciative, I told her - “And earlier upon pulling into this place I thought my night would be one of naught to do but laying on the bed and flicking through television channels”
“So what would you be doing back home ?” She asked while pouring herself another drink.
“There’s probably a good chance I wouldn't be sitting in a motel room partying naked with a lovely almost equally naked person such as yourself”
For a brief moment I thought of my wife, or lack of, off on another business trip with her coworker Richard. I had been married for six years and probably only spent two of those together with my wife. There was no doubt in my mind Richard was dicking my wife, just as she probably had no doubts I was out doing my own thing as well. It seemed it had turned into a marriage of convenience, two paychecks going into the mortgage and other bills. In the beginning I was ready for a change and to become a family man, but early on my first wife made it quite clear she did not want to have and raise children that would take away from her professional life which had me wondering why she even got married. Not the person I was earlier engaged to. She always volunteered to take these business trips and now was in the Adirondacks with Dick. Oddly enough aside from our honeymoon whenever we traveled anywhere her widowed mother accompanied us. The whole experience thus far had transformed me into very jaded if not dissatisfied individual when it came to long lasting loving relationships. Family and true friendships meant more and I could always count upon my blood kin and old friends, people in my life she seemed not overly fond of. My home life was not all that bad, Coming and going as I pleased, never hurting for cash, adventurous weekend excursions into the wild hinterlands and party towns, camping, fishing smoking, drinking with friends, romping with women either in a tent or motel room. In my mid thirties I was not far removed from the person I had been during the 70s. While some of my old crowd had cut their hair, cleaned up their act, gotten married, moved within new circles, or accepted Jesus and no longer sat by our fires, I associated with those who still did. As the age of Ronald Reagan and his successor George Bush wore on, there were less of us sitting around those big campfires.
“Probably in some snooty ass Williamsburg tavern drinking overpriced booze” I added.
Actually it felt quite good to be away from the colonial capitol now jammed packed with tourists. I really enjoyed my few days in Floyd County, but this stopover proved rather enjoyable as well. Although she mentioned her deceased husband on occasion, Starr did not overly inquire about my personal life, but she did want to know more about the nightlife of Williamsburg. “ A multicultural tourist and college town with more hotels, motels and restaurants than you could shake a stick at. The bars all pretty much suck, either preppy college hangouts, or tourist theme taverns where the assholes won’t hesitate to cut someone like me off after only three or four drinks. They’re all in walking distance and will suffice if I’m too looped to drive anywhere better. There‘s a few my friends and I aren‘t allowed to drink in anymore”
“Places frequented by normal people” She laughed and went on to tell me that her bar was a hopping place on some nights - “Probably not so much tonight because of the weather” This had me thinking of what Lonny told me earlier.
Seeing a chance to inquire about this again, I asked - “So what about Dirty George and Delilah ?”
“Oh you mean our weekend entertainment ?” She giggled
“What is it like dinner theatre or something ?” I knew such a form of entertainment existed back in Williamsburg.
“Just wait, you’ll see” Starr purred then leaned in to run her moist tongue along my jaw and neck. By this time I alright with doing exactly that, just waiting, but not in a uncomfortable manner. Starr rose from the table, slightly staggered over to her shoes, tried slipping them on while standing, but had to perform this task while sitting on the bed. Then she got up again and began slowly dancing to America’s Horse with No Name playing on the radio. It was weirdly erotic and at times I couldn't hold back a sardonic bark or two of laughter.
“After two days in the desert sun
My skin began to turn red
After three days in the desert fun
I was looking at a river bed
And the story it told of a river that flowed
Made me sad to think it was dead”
For some odd reason I was glad when that song ended and the next one, Deep Purple’s Hush proved much too fast for Starr’s dancing ability in her present condition. She instead plopped down on the bed and wiggled. “Dance for me !” She slurred , but I informed her that too much rum and vodka tinged none too well in a cocktail shaker. Instead I ambled over for another horizontal boogie with her in the bed.
We rolled around until about 9:30 and by then I knew there was a need to get something in my belly instead of booze if my reveling continued. Listening to my stomach’s gurgling growls, I said - “Alright let’s get dressed and get some vittles”
Dudded up, with all of the lipstick washed off my face and neck, I accompanied Starr back into the lounge…
-
Steve Plonk
- Posts: 2483
- Joined: December 12th, 2009, 4:48 pm
Re: it's a bird, it's a plane, it's President Romney
Poor little Romney Annie & Mittens--they're like little lost kittens... 
Goodbye, Ryan...
Thud, goes the lead balloon of their losing campaign... splish splashing into Great Salt Lake...
Goodbye, Ryan...Thud, goes the lead balloon of their losing campaign... splish splashing into Great Salt Lake...
-
stilltrucking
- Posts: 20607
- Joined: October 24th, 2004, 12:29 pm
- Location: Oz or somepLace like Kansas
Re: it's a bird, it's a plane, it's President Romney
If that was the case, I could not call it an off topic extravaganza.
I mean what else can we do with Mitt Romney other than to emerge and brighten the passing of his parade ?
Re: it's a bird, it's a plane, it's President Romney
Just a travel story. I knew it was wrong to post it here, but did it anyway. What's the worst that can happen,
a shunning ?
a shunning ?
Re: it's a bird, it's a plane, it's President Romney
It was a lot more dimmer inside this lounge than my previous visit. The bar area emitted a weird glow and bathed within it was Marcia, Lonny, that creepy cigar smoking guy I now knew was George. With him an overly tan, rather thin woman with long white hair. She was clad in a black calf length evening gown with a slit up the side. The black, white and brownish orange tan contrast enhanced by bar lights was quite a sight.. Upon seeing Starr and I, Marcia squeaked in delight. Still wearing my Tshirt and trunks, she was still throwing down margaritas. While Lonny applied a swizzle stick attempting to fish something out from under the cash register like a twig tool wielding chimp, George grunted back unintelligible replies to the equally unintelligible hissing and wheezing tittering coming out of the white haired woman’s mouth. Advancing slowly we passed the table of five, all slobbering drunk, but quite engrossed with what I suspected was Dirty George and Delilah. A drunken man in what looked to be a grey factory uniform of some sort, complete with a name tag stood by the bar sipping a beer and occasionally asking - “What in the hell are they talking about ?” It was obvious, like me this was the fellow’s first time experiencing this type of weirdness. Extending my hand for a friendly shake, I replied - “I don’t think the real show starts until around 11:00” Then I asked - “First time here ?”
“No I use to come in here a lot when Fred Cooley owned this place a couple of years ago, but never seen this kind of crazy shit” Shaking my hand he introduced himself as Ed Frank confirmed by the name Frank stitched upon his shirt.
“Quite frank aren’t you Ed ?” The white haired woman hissed with a sharp turn of her head, hair whipping around like frost covered witch grass in a sudden gust of cold wind. Ed gulped down his beer, sat the empty glass mug down upon the bar with a thud, and said "Screw this Saturday morning cartoon shit, I’m out of here !” He then asked Marcia if she wanted to go up the road to another bar, but upon her polite refusal, tossed two bucks on the bar and quick stepped it out. I had a feeling the closest thing to a normal human being just walked out of this strange motor lodge lounge.
Sitting down beside Starr I called for the hominid-like bartender’s attention who was smiling and holding a shiny dime aloft the had successfully retrieved from under the cash register. After consulting Starr over Delilah, George’s strange conversation and Gary Wright’s Dream Weaver moaning from the jukebox, I proceeded to order for the two of us. Tonight’s fare would consist of chicken fingers, fried clam strips, jalapeño poppers and a large order of fries, all no doubt frozen out of a box and oven heated. While we waited, Starr sipped a large rum and Sprite and I enjoyed another vodka lemonade. Marcia slipped off the stool she was sitting on and perched herself next to me. I couldn't help but notice Starr’s head lean in and turn. Her eyes were slits of baleful blue fire as she greeted Marcia with a particularly savage clinched tooth smile. Marcia however by this time was bubbly drunk and it seemed she did not even notice Star’s glaring eyes.
“I see you two decided to come back” She slurred - “How was the party ?”
“Party ?”
Gently patting my knee, Marcia leaned in, smiled at Starr while speaking to me - “Nothing special, huh ?” then asked - “So you have something good to drink back in your room ?”
Before I could even attempt an answer, Starr’s visage soften somewhat and in a sweet friendly manner replied - “We have enough for a few nightcaps and would love to have you join us a little later” If Marcia failed to sense the venom hidden behind Starr’s seemingly genuine invitation, I sure did. Strange and terrible thoughts began to swirl about in my head - ‘What if Starr in her inebriated state had plans of waiting till Marcia passed out on the bed, or floor and slitting her throat with straight razor, or box cutter ?’ I've seen women who have fallen in love in one night and with such emotions enhanced by booze or other substances become psychotically jealous and possessive. My eyes darted to the exit as I planned a quick avenue of escape in case some weird wild cat fight suddenly broke out. I’d rather see two rowdy drunk guys go at each other with pool sticks than to watch a womanly whirlwind of sharp painted talons, gnashing teeth and fur flying. Perhaps I was just imagining such impending savagery. As our drinks arrived I tried to think of other possibilities. They were pleasant thoughts of three happily substance addled people having the grandest of times frolicking back in my room.
“Hey, why don’t we get a table” Starr suggested with a strange glint in her eyes. Grabbing our drinks, we sat down at a table next to the party of five. Not wanting to spark off any extra animosity, I scooted my chair close to Starr’s as to make it appear without a doubt, she was with me on this strange and rainy night. Having rolled around the hay with her a couple of times, I knew this buxom Amazon-like woman was strong enough to snap Marcia’s neck like a twig, but now those fiery blue eyes showed not a hint of malice and she even engaged the tipsy Hanover County socialite in a bit of small talk mostly about the weather, clothes dryer and perhaps a complement regarding her finger nails. It was shortly after Marcia excused herself to the ladies room I asked Starr - “You’re not planning to kill her or anything ?’
“Don’t be silly” She laughed, then kissed my cheek - “Think of it as a diplomatic mission”
“Diplomatic mission, what are you going to do, bridge the gap between two weirds ?”
Starr regarded me with a strange look and asked - “Do you like me ?”
An odd question as we were now in the lounge setting together. Not knowing exactly what to say my thoughts drifted back to an old roadside advertisement sign of a use car dealer - “I know no strangers, just friends I've never met”
Starr flashed a smile and said - “Well I’m glad we've met and become friends” Having heard that, I weighed the differences between friendship and just being friendly. Although quite passionate, having sex with someone who either dislikes or out to get you is not all that a warm and cheery experience. Starr seemed friendly enough, but I knew nothing of her until checking into this quaint establishment and what a fun spot it was.
Marcia seemed to be pacing herself now, sipping instead of guzzling margaritas. Starr on the other hand was putting down a fair amount of rum, downing her mixed drink almost in one gulp. In my time, I had seen women who could drink average drinking men under the table. The two young ladies at the next table were not such women. One rising from her seat suddenly went all wobbly and fell into a crumpled heap upon the dark red lounge carpet. Laughing all the way down she continued to do so not a half foot away from my booted feet. Seeing this Lonny bolted from around the bar and approached this impaired young lady. “Get up and keep it together or I’m going to have to cut you off and maybe have you barred” Lonny informed not only the prostrate woman but her friends as well. That was quite generous I thought as those fern and brass taverns back in Williamsburg would of ran them out after their fifth pitcher which for the table of four and one on the floor was ten pitchers or so earlier. In my opinion someone should be able to drink how much he or she wants, as long as they keep their shit together and respect the boundaries of others. The other young lady helped the wobbly legged one to the ladies room.
“Just look at them, you filthy minded animal, they all want me !” The words ripped through the cocktail music like a goshawk’s talons. It was Delilah, now sliding off her bar stool like some slender she-lizard. Pointing a black polish talon at George’s face, she threatened to invite us all to frolic with her while he would be bound to a chair and forced to watch.
“Oh please do ! I’ll do anything for you,, because I love you” George gurgled.
At that she screeched - “You’re nothing but a shit stain to me, Dirty George !”
“Hey, hey !” Lonny interrupted - “Watch your language ! I've got people getting ready to eat here, Delilah”
“ I've got something they can eat ! You too Lonny, that is if you have a taste for me” For about ten seconds the small subhuman-like bartender looked up at Delilah then spouted out something in his singsong native tongue adding in English - “No thanks, I had some fried chicken gizzards earlier”
Needless to say all during dinner I marveled at the Dirty George and Delilah show which was naught but a degrading seemingly well rehearsed theater of pain induced pleasure. Finishing this fine bar fare and another vodka lemonade all the while having about all the lounge entertainment one like me could stand, I took a chance and invited both Marcia and Starr back to my room.
At this point I simply wanted to party, but if something else were to pop out of the toaster maybe there would be a little more jam to spread around…
“No I use to come in here a lot when Fred Cooley owned this place a couple of years ago, but never seen this kind of crazy shit” Shaking my hand he introduced himself as Ed Frank confirmed by the name Frank stitched upon his shirt.
“Quite frank aren’t you Ed ?” The white haired woman hissed with a sharp turn of her head, hair whipping around like frost covered witch grass in a sudden gust of cold wind. Ed gulped down his beer, sat the empty glass mug down upon the bar with a thud, and said "Screw this Saturday morning cartoon shit, I’m out of here !” He then asked Marcia if she wanted to go up the road to another bar, but upon her polite refusal, tossed two bucks on the bar and quick stepped it out. I had a feeling the closest thing to a normal human being just walked out of this strange motor lodge lounge.
Sitting down beside Starr I called for the hominid-like bartender’s attention who was smiling and holding a shiny dime aloft the had successfully retrieved from under the cash register. After consulting Starr over Delilah, George’s strange conversation and Gary Wright’s Dream Weaver moaning from the jukebox, I proceeded to order for the two of us. Tonight’s fare would consist of chicken fingers, fried clam strips, jalapeño poppers and a large order of fries, all no doubt frozen out of a box and oven heated. While we waited, Starr sipped a large rum and Sprite and I enjoyed another vodka lemonade. Marcia slipped off the stool she was sitting on and perched herself next to me. I couldn't help but notice Starr’s head lean in and turn. Her eyes were slits of baleful blue fire as she greeted Marcia with a particularly savage clinched tooth smile. Marcia however by this time was bubbly drunk and it seemed she did not even notice Star’s glaring eyes.
“I see you two decided to come back” She slurred - “How was the party ?”
“Party ?”
Gently patting my knee, Marcia leaned in, smiled at Starr while speaking to me - “Nothing special, huh ?” then asked - “So you have something good to drink back in your room ?”
Before I could even attempt an answer, Starr’s visage soften somewhat and in a sweet friendly manner replied - “We have enough for a few nightcaps and would love to have you join us a little later” If Marcia failed to sense the venom hidden behind Starr’s seemingly genuine invitation, I sure did. Strange and terrible thoughts began to swirl about in my head - ‘What if Starr in her inebriated state had plans of waiting till Marcia passed out on the bed, or floor and slitting her throat with straight razor, or box cutter ?’ I've seen women who have fallen in love in one night and with such emotions enhanced by booze or other substances become psychotically jealous and possessive. My eyes darted to the exit as I planned a quick avenue of escape in case some weird wild cat fight suddenly broke out. I’d rather see two rowdy drunk guys go at each other with pool sticks than to watch a womanly whirlwind of sharp painted talons, gnashing teeth and fur flying. Perhaps I was just imagining such impending savagery. As our drinks arrived I tried to think of other possibilities. They were pleasant thoughts of three happily substance addled people having the grandest of times frolicking back in my room.
“Hey, why don’t we get a table” Starr suggested with a strange glint in her eyes. Grabbing our drinks, we sat down at a table next to the party of five. Not wanting to spark off any extra animosity, I scooted my chair close to Starr’s as to make it appear without a doubt, she was with me on this strange and rainy night. Having rolled around the hay with her a couple of times, I knew this buxom Amazon-like woman was strong enough to snap Marcia’s neck like a twig, but now those fiery blue eyes showed not a hint of malice and she even engaged the tipsy Hanover County socialite in a bit of small talk mostly about the weather, clothes dryer and perhaps a complement regarding her finger nails. It was shortly after Marcia excused herself to the ladies room I asked Starr - “You’re not planning to kill her or anything ?’
“Don’t be silly” She laughed, then kissed my cheek - “Think of it as a diplomatic mission”
“Diplomatic mission, what are you going to do, bridge the gap between two weirds ?”
Starr regarded me with a strange look and asked - “Do you like me ?”
An odd question as we were now in the lounge setting together. Not knowing exactly what to say my thoughts drifted back to an old roadside advertisement sign of a use car dealer - “I know no strangers, just friends I've never met”
Starr flashed a smile and said - “Well I’m glad we've met and become friends” Having heard that, I weighed the differences between friendship and just being friendly. Although quite passionate, having sex with someone who either dislikes or out to get you is not all that a warm and cheery experience. Starr seemed friendly enough, but I knew nothing of her until checking into this quaint establishment and what a fun spot it was.
Marcia seemed to be pacing herself now, sipping instead of guzzling margaritas. Starr on the other hand was putting down a fair amount of rum, downing her mixed drink almost in one gulp. In my time, I had seen women who could drink average drinking men under the table. The two young ladies at the next table were not such women. One rising from her seat suddenly went all wobbly and fell into a crumpled heap upon the dark red lounge carpet. Laughing all the way down she continued to do so not a half foot away from my booted feet. Seeing this Lonny bolted from around the bar and approached this impaired young lady. “Get up and keep it together or I’m going to have to cut you off and maybe have you barred” Lonny informed not only the prostrate woman but her friends as well. That was quite generous I thought as those fern and brass taverns back in Williamsburg would of ran them out after their fifth pitcher which for the table of four and one on the floor was ten pitchers or so earlier. In my opinion someone should be able to drink how much he or she wants, as long as they keep their shit together and respect the boundaries of others. The other young lady helped the wobbly legged one to the ladies room.
“Just look at them, you filthy minded animal, they all want me !” The words ripped through the cocktail music like a goshawk’s talons. It was Delilah, now sliding off her bar stool like some slender she-lizard. Pointing a black polish talon at George’s face, she threatened to invite us all to frolic with her while he would be bound to a chair and forced to watch.
“Oh please do ! I’ll do anything for you,, because I love you” George gurgled.
At that she screeched - “You’re nothing but a shit stain to me, Dirty George !”
“Hey, hey !” Lonny interrupted - “Watch your language ! I've got people getting ready to eat here, Delilah”
“ I've got something they can eat ! You too Lonny, that is if you have a taste for me” For about ten seconds the small subhuman-like bartender looked up at Delilah then spouted out something in his singsong native tongue adding in English - “No thanks, I had some fried chicken gizzards earlier”
Needless to say all during dinner I marveled at the Dirty George and Delilah show which was naught but a degrading seemingly well rehearsed theater of pain induced pleasure. Finishing this fine bar fare and another vodka lemonade all the while having about all the lounge entertainment one like me could stand, I took a chance and invited both Marcia and Starr back to my room.
At this point I simply wanted to party, but if something else were to pop out of the toaster maybe there would be a little more jam to spread around…
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