Saturday, August 26, 1961
Business had been brisk when Linda entered The Bungalow a week earlier, normal for a Saturday night. The smoke was so thick you could cut it with a knife. She took a stool at the bar, and while the bartender poured her a glass of Chardonnay she lit up a cigarette, further contributing to the atmosphere of the rural tavern.
A long time had passed since Linda had last hung out in a drinking establishment, even longer since she'd done it alone. Before the divorce, she and Richard went out occasionally, but since then her focus had been on her son. Now that the teenager was spending more time away from the nest, it was time for her to do the same.
The miniskirt that the blonde thirty-eight-year-old wore revealed a pair of well-preserved legs, which she kept crossed to avoid revealing a lot more. Her short halter top displayed her tight midriff to advantage and barely kept her ample breasts confined. Add to that the red shoes, and there wasn't much doubt about what she had in mind.
On the Wurlitzer jukebox, Patsy Cline was complaining that she was Falling to Pieces, at a volume that nearly precluded conversation. The raucous laughter coming from a group of loggers in one corner suggested there was more to Olympia beer than the water for which it was famous. The bartender watched the group carefully. He didn't want to, but he might have to cut them off.
In a few minutes, Linda's glass was nearly empty. The bartender was about to approach her about another when the frat boy jock sat down beside her.
"Can I buy you a drink?"
She smiled at him. "Sure. Thank you."
Without comment, the bartender brought him a Coors from the tap, and her another glass of wine, giving Linda time to assess her new companion. She doubted if he was twenty-one, but in rural bars at that time, attitude was more important than age.
And attitude was something the frat boy had in abundance. The OSU tank top he wore revealed biceps that spoke both of bodybuilding and hard work. Below his rock-hard abs, nearly-new shrink-to-fit Levi's revealed a package he was obviously proud of. He sampled his beer.
"I haven't seen you here before. Are you local?"
She took a sip of wine to calm her sudden nervousness.
"Yes, I live nearby. I don't get out much."
"That's too bad. You definitely brighten the place up."
Not a bad start for a pickup line. As she smiled at him, she wondered how experienced he was at picking up an older woman in a bar.
"Thank you." She glanced at the group in the corner. "I gather you're not a logger."
His smile was deliberately self-deprecating. "Nope, just a humble college student on a summer job with the forest service."
Humble, my ass. Full of yourself is more like it. Her hand touched his bicep lightly.
"You must work out a lot."
He smiled at her. "Nice of you to notice. Yeah, it goes with wrestling and playing football."
They sipped in silence for a few moments while the frat boy considered another pickup line. The bartender broke the tension by pushing a basket of peanuts closer to them. They occupied themselves for a while by shelling peanuts and making small talk until the college kid decided on the direct approach. He put his hand on her knee and looked into her eyes.
"It's kind of noisy in here. Maybe we should go somewhere quiet so we can talk without shouting."
She smiled and put her hand over his.
"Where did you have in mind?"
************
The sign at the Lucky Horseshoe Motel said there was a vacancy, unusual for the weekend at the no-tell motel where, if desired, rooms were available by the hour.
While the frat boy went into the office and secured a room for the night, Linda watched the horseshoe on the neon sign flash on and off with the same steady rhythm she hoped her hunk would use while screwing her. It occurred to her that she didn't even know his name. Did it matter? And he was half her age. All the better when it came to the bedroom.
In their dark room, the frat boy locked the door and closed the deadbolt. He turned to find Linda removing her blouse and skirt. Kicking off his shoes and stripping off his shirt, he pulled her into a close embrace and kissed her gently. As she unbuttoned his jeans and reached inside, she whispered words of surrender into his ear.
"Be gentle. It's been a long time."
He smiled, and his ego responded.
"I'll make it good for you."
He was true to his word. By the time the early summer dawn approached, Linda's needs had been fully satisfied. As she lay beside her young jock stroking his muscular chest, she regretted nothing.
************
As far as Linda was concerned, it had been a one night stand. She was trying to put her frat boy out of her mind when he called a few days later, inviting her to join him Saturday night at a local dance - a scholarship fundraiser sponsored by the Eagles. She accepted without hesitation. His younger brother, Buster, was staying with him for the week, and he knew from their previous encounter that she had a teenage son. Could Buster hang out with him for the evening?
Linda agreed without consulting her fifteen-year-old son, but when she approached him, she found she had a hard sell to make. Eric frowned.
"How old is this kid anyway?"
"He's a seventh-grader."
"So I'm supposed to baby-sit this kid while you go out and screw with your boyfriend."
His mom played the guilt card.
"I've spent years baby-sitting you, Eric. It's my turn. And where screwing is concerned, I suspect you've been getting your share."
The guilt helped, and the details of his own sex life were best avoided. He agreed, with a token show of reluctance.
"Okay, I'll do it. When do you expect to be home?"
"I don't know. Plan on making breakfast for Buster as well as yourself."
Eric suppressed a smile. Yes, his mom deserved her fun, and deep down he was happy she was getting some. Fun, that is. He gave her a quick kiss.
"I can handle that."
************
"I wish you'd wear something besides those indecent shorts and that obscene t-shirt. I don't want you to give my date the impression that you want him to screw you."
It was now Saturday evening, and his mom had pre-date jitters. Eric evaluated her closely.
"Why not? It's the impression you're going for."
"That's different."
"Not really."
She was getting further behind.
"Okay, but try not to have an erection when he gets here. It shows too well in those shorts."
He smirked. "I'm glad to hear it shows. I may have a hard time controlling it if he's as hot as I hope he is."
She stomped into the kitchen.
"Forget it."
Eric smiled. Since his dad left, his mom hadn't had a boyfriend. Now he realized how much shit he could give her, especially since they both understood he was gay. He hollered after her.
"How big is he?"
"About six feet. I suppose he weighs 180 pounds or so."
"Cool. I'm only six inches on a good day, and I never weighed mine."
She returned to the living room doorway long enough to glare at him.
"Very clever."
Eric smiled. Their relationship had undergone several changes lately, and was once again on the move. Eric was enjoying every minute of it. That was when the car, a 1956 Rambler, rolled into the driveway. The dots lined up. Eric grinned broadly.
"Did Gary show you how the seats fold flat in that model? You won't even have to get a motel."
"How did you know about that feature?"
"I read about it."
Her snort of derision suggested she didn't believe him. There was a moment of silence and then she was back in the doorway.
"How did you know his name was Gary?"
He was the picture of innocence.
"Didn't you mention it?"
She gave him a penetrating look before she replied.
"I guess I must have."
Gary and Buster got out of the car. Buster carried a small overnight bag, and he didn't seem too happy. Although about average for a seventh-grader, five feet tall and one hundred pounds looked small standing next to Gary. Wearing Levi's and an OSU tank top, the kid was a miniature version of his big brother, complete with a blond crew cut, developing biceps, and hard abs.
Eric got wood immediately. He looked down and smiled. Yes, his boner showed very well, and he made no attempt to hide it. In fact as his mom passed him on the way to the door, he rubbed it to make sure she noticed. She pretended to ignore him as she greeted their guests and made introductions.
"Eric, this is Gary, and this is Buster, of course. This is my son, Eric."
Eric smiled and shook Gary's hand.
"Hi, Gary. I'm pleased to meet you."
Gary didn't bat an eye.
"Nice to meet you too, Eric."
Eric gave Buster a high five.
"We're gonna have fun tonight. I've got some cool games we can play. And we can watch Gunsmoke since Mom won't be here to insist on The Lawrence Welk Show. Want a soda or something? Mom left some cookies on the table."
As they headed for the kitchen, Gary and Linda quickly departed.
Eric opened the refrigerator door, and Buster spoke for the first time. His voice was at that frustrating adolescent transition point where he sounded like a cross between Mickey Mouse and Johnny Bravo.
"How about a beer?"
"I'll see what I can find."
Eric didn't normally drink beer, but he'd been given no restrictions on what he could serve his guest - or consume with him. He looked in the back of the fridge and found a couple bottles of Coors. He popped the tops with the wall-mounted opener and handed one to Buster.
"Have you had dinner?"
"Yeah, Gary and I ate before we left home."
"Cool. There's leftover fried chicken in the refrigerator if you want some. Potato salad too, I think."
Buster took a swig from his bottle.
"This will be great. Thanks, Eric."
"Don't mention it."
Buster plopped down on the sofa in the living room and kicked off his shoes. He'd been looking at Eric's shirt.
"Did you really get laid at the Eros Arcade?"
Eric didn't want to get into that adventure. "No, it's just a joke."
"How did you get the shirt?"
"A friend bought it for me. Where I usually get laid is at Cock Rock."
Buster grinned. "Yeah, Gary told me about that place. He says it's got hot and cold running pussy."
The kid was clearly made from the same cloth as his brother. Eric pushed the conversation a little further.
"No lie. How about you? Ever had sex?"
Buster's eyes wandered. "Yeah, a few times."
Eric changed the subject. "Wanna watch TV? Or we've got a lot of card games and board games."
"Got a chess set?"
Eric was surprised. "Sure"
Buster turned out to be a good player, and a nice guy, demonstrating to Eric that he should avoid first impressions. Maybe Gary played chess too. When all you've done with a guy is have sex, it wasn't wise to make assumptions about other aspects of his life. Or his little brother's life.
Chess morphed into checkers, and then they took time out to watch TV. At some point, both boys had pulled off their shirts, and now they sat on the floor side by side with their backs against the couch and their shoulders touching, watching Gunsmoke. Eric put his arm around Buster's shoulders and pulled him closer.
