Tuesday, December 30, 2008

BBF and R&B

The uptown area of our little college town was probably like many small towns across the country. It consisted of about eight blocks of mainly two story brick buildings, the first floor housing a business and the second floor being either offices or apartments. All across the Midwest these buildings held appliance stores, repair shops, greasy spoons, insurance offices, and the like. This being a college town where the student population exceeded the townie population the stores were bars, head shops, taverns, record stores, boutiques, pubs, college book stores, bars, a Marx-Lenin reading room, bars, health food stores, t-shirt shops, taverns, and a bagel shop.

I walked with Linda, listening to her talk about something or other and remembering her voice and how she flirted with me at a dinner at Luigi’s when she was with a jerk who she later dumped and I was with Margery who later dumped me. No wonder I can’t remember what she was talking about, my mind was weighing other things.

We went up a narrow staircase that led from a door in between the record store and a gift shop. Linda’s little apartment was over the gift shop. It was clean, drafty, and decorated in the current style: cheap print cloth from India draped over beat-up furniture and used to cover banged-up walls. Macrame plant hangers were suspended everywhere with hand-thrown pots nested in them holding plants in various stages of certain death. A foot locker sat in front of the batik-covered couch doubling as a cocktail table. On it was a stack of art books, matches, a lighter, and a clean ash tray. Linda's foot locker was new and blue in color. The one back in my dorm room was olive drab and had my dad’s name stenciled on it as well as several shipping labels that were yellowing and peeling off. Mine went through WW2, her’s had probably come from a trendy, modern, 70's boutique. I liked mine better.

Linda turned the heater up, put a tea kettle on the tiny gas range, and told me to have a seat. I plopped down on the couch as she turned around and took her gloves, head scarf, and enormous Army coat off. I was instantly glad she did as under it she had on a beige sweater. It was a tight sweater and none too thick. No wonder she was cold when I saw her on campus, the poor thing didn’t dress properly and had started her day in this refrigerator of an apartment. Linda had adopted the popular habit of not wearing a bra and it was evident that she was still quite cold. I tried not to stare at the evidence, of course, while I immediately began to reconsider my idea of joining a celibate order or the priesthood. I mean, after, all, I’m not even Catholic.

She ducked into her tiny bathroom to mess with her hair since she had been wearing that scarf. I thought she looked fine when she came out, whatever she had done. She sat in a chair across from me and we engaged in small talk about school until the kettle whistled and she poured us some tea. Tea to me was a bag of Lipton dunked until a dark beverage was produced. Tea to Linda was a bunch of stuff that looked like green pot scooped into a miniature aluminum diving bell with holes punched in it. That device was dunked for a while in a mug of hot water until a pale, greenish liquid resulted. I sipped some and thought it tasted like yard clippings soaked in hot water. She sat down next to me on the couch and seemed to enjoy her tea and the warmth it provided.

We talked about her a bit. She had changed her major to Fine Arts which meant she’d be at school a fifth year. I wondered to myself if that was fallout from her pal Margery leaving, if she was afraid to leave school, or if she just liked art. After we talked for a while she remarked that I didn’t seem very happy or talkative—that I had changed since the last time she saw me—she hadn’t thought of me as being moody. I told her I was surprised she even remembered me and never considered that she might think of me, moody or otherwise. I told her I had broken up with a girlfriend and wasn’t very happy about it. She said she was sorry and asked how fresh the wound was and I told her that it had happened last December.

She smiled, almost laughed, and said, “Wow. That’s a long time to be down about breaking up with someone. Doncha think?”
I allowed as how it might be.
“I think there are a few girls around campus that would help you out with your problem, ya know?” she said. She said it with a very light-hearted tone—not an intimation that she had herself in mind for that gruesome duty. I considered her statement in silence for a while. She was right about one thing, I wasn't very talkative.
“You wanna get high?” she said.
“Nah, but don’t let me stop you,” I said.
“Cool,” she said. She went into the tiny bedroom on the other side of the wall behind the couch and came back with a very tightly rolled number and fired it up. I went over to the stove and poured hot water in my mug thereby diluting my beverage to something more like steaming dishwater and less like boiled weeds. Delish!
Linda had not been terribly keyed-up before she smoked, but she was very calm afterwards. She turned to face me on the couch and got seriously interested in me and what I was all about. Stoned she thought the most common and mundane things were “heavy.” I told her some stuff, some of it even true, figuring she wouldn’t remember much of it anyway.
After about an hour of this deep conversation Linda suddenly said, “Hey, are you hungry? Let’s go down to the BBF, OK, Willie-boy?”
“Sure,” I said. And we got our coats back on and walked a couple blocks down the street to the Burger Boy Food-O-Rama. After we filled up on burgers, fries, and milkshakes we walked back to Record Revolution where I purchased Live 'Full House' by the J. Geils Band and I’m Still in Love With You by Al Green. RecRev gave a fifty cent discount when you bought two slabs of vinyl so I always took advantage of their good nature.

Back out on the street Linda asked me to come back up to her chilly apartment right next door. It seemed like a very friendly request from a stoned young lady who had just had a good meal. I said I thought I’d rather go to the dorm and listen to my new tunes and invited her to come along. She said she thought it might be fun and so she walked down the hill with me. We got to my little room and she took her big coat off and sat on the bed in her jeans, tight beige sweater, and high fringed boots while I put on my new Al Green LP. We kissed during the six minutes of the first two tracks. Her sweater came off quite easily during track 3, “Love and Happiness” and I enjoyed her firm, bare breasts and erect nipples to the fullest of my limited ability.
By track four I was pretty certain I had never really been serious about celibacy.


suburban hotwife said...

Ah, someone to take your mind off of Jackie! You must have been really happy to have that private dorm room to invite her back to. I am not surprised that her tight beige sweater was cast aside as the tunes got you two in the mood! Gotta love Al Green...

Glad to have you blogging again!

L. said...

The humorist writer in me is squeeing at the description of Linda's apartment ("holding plants in various stages of certain death") and the tea ceremony ("yard clippings soaked in hot water")

And I am also glad that life goes on, post-Jackie, though we kind of already knew that.

You're rather talented, Mr. W. And I don't just mean performance-wise.

Kyra said...

I never believed you would take the celibacy route anyway. I want to hear what happens during Track 5. I'm pretty sure I would have let you get my tight sweater off my Track 2 though.

Welcome back, Wil.

Wil said...

SH- Not sure she took my mind off of the other one, but she did make for a nice change of pace from relentless gloom. Gawd I was such a dope... I should have known that 24 years later I'd be back to bangin' Jackie like a screen door on a hot summer day!

L.- Talent around the blogs I read is abundant. I'm trying to keep up and falling farther behind all the time. Thanks you for the kindness.

K- You had a lot more under that college girl sweater too!

What I want for the New Year is the ability to sit in my office every day, do my work, and read my favorite sexy blogs. Then about twice a week I could pound out an entry in this crazy CTW thing.
And yet, the event that would make that possible is something I dread more than anything else.

swingerwife said...

Funny thing, Wil. I could never put your name and the word celibate in the same sentence without laughing my ass off. Sorry....

Wil said...

SW- Really? I had gone more than 3 months without any... ya know... sex! I felt like I was half way to the monastery already. Of course now I'm not nearly so, er, active.

college said...

celibacy is overrated. I should know i go to a Jesuit institution...I'm glad the stories keep coming...and the learning...what is this LP business,and burger food o rama -- are we talking knockoff of burger king..."Heavy" stuff man!

Wil said...

Sit down for a while college while I tell you stories of a far different world. Music was sold on large black sheets of circular vinyl, burgers were 15 cents and you got a free cartoon glass with purchase of a large Coca-Cola (made with cane sugar), and college girls got wasted and wanted to have sex because they were on the pill and AIDS hadn't been invented yet.
Yes, we were pioneers, charting a brave course through a dangerous world.

Cheating Wife said...

I love the recollection of details in her apartment. You have an amazing memory, Wil!

You have me thinking a college retrospective post would be fun! I certainly have enough material....lol

Welcome back, you have been missed.

Jane's Teeth said...

I'm new to the blog world and developing my reading list. I love yours! Thanks for writing, Wil. I feel like I know you already and I haven't even read all the way through.

Wil said...

CW- Of course Linda might tell you that she didn't have any frickin' batik in her apartment and then you'd doubt my memory. But who ya gonna believe? :-) I would read every word of your college recollections by the way.

JT- The last day of the year and you finally get here! Thanks for dropping in. Please tell all your best girl type friends where I am too. OK, tell guys too. Although I'm worried that you feel like you know me already... cause, hell, maybe you really do!

Riff Dog said...

Oh, I miss those days of vinyl.

And with Al Green playing, she didn't stand a chance! ;-)