Thursday, January 28, 2010

The Visit

Mona called from a pay phone about an hour up the road. She had gotten a late start and then made a wrong turn on the outer belt around the state capital. That added another half hour. I was already anxious about her coming for the weekend and the fact that she was late just made it worse. Was Chet out of the picture? Was I just being used to get back at Chet? I had no idea.

My apartment outside of dear old college town was basically half of a second story above a business by the highway. There was no stairway inside—the only way to my door was a long, black metal stair on the side of the building. It was kind of like a fire escape bolted to the wall. There was a long climb up to a landing where my door was. One of the benefits of this odd setup was that, as long as my stereo wasn’t blaring, I could hear anyone coming up the stairs. I was sitting in the living room watching my 10” B&W TV that got 3 stations via rabbit ears when I heard footsteps on the stairs. I opened the door before Mona got to the landing.

I welcomed her into my humble home. We hugged. Her hair smelled like cigarette smoke. I have never been a smoker but most of the women I, er, spent time with back in those days were smokers. I struggle to remember what brand of soda or beer any of them preferred but I remember well the favorite cigarette brand of each. (for example: Sharon- Winston and, incongruously, Marlboro occasionally, Denise- Tareyton at first, then Benson & Hedges 100’s, then Virginia Slims, Suzanne- Salem, Kendra- Virginia Slims, Jackie- non-smoker… and on and on.) Why is that, I wonder? I have a theory but I won’t bore you with it. So, of course Mona smelled like smoke; she had, no doubt, been working her way through a pack of Winstons all the way down the road.

I went clomping down to her Camaro to haul her luggage up. She had a gigantic light blue Samsonite suitcase and one of those matching box-like cases with the handle on the top that held cosmetics and toiletries. You don’t see those much any more. They were designed like a tackle box with cantilevered trays under the lid and a mirror built-in to the underside of the top. Well, the mirror part wasn’t like a tackle box. But you knew that. So I got her stuff moved in and put it in the bedroom. I gave her the quick tour: this is the living room, there’s the kitchen, the bathroom is there and the bedroom is across form the bath. That took about 10 seconds.

Mona reported that she was exhausted from the drive and plopped down on the couch while I got her a beer. We talked for a while and she was barely able to keep her eyes open. I'm such a sparkling conversationalist. She got ready for bed first and I followed her ten minutes later nervous with anticipation. When I got into bed I could hear her slow breathing—not snoring exactly, that would sound really unromantic. I said her name softly and got no response. I stared at the ceiling in the dark for a long time before I too fell asleep. What an exciting reunion!

I awoke Saturday morning before dawn with Mona pressed on top of me kissing my chest.
“I’m sorry I fell asleep last night, sweetie” she said.
I said nothing, but put my hands on her shoulders and pushed her down my body until her mouth found my stiffening cock.
Winston magazine ad from mid- 1970's

Wednesday, January 6, 2010

Back To School

Driving back to school Sunday night after my “Spring Break at Mona’s House” I was pretty confused. Just a few weeks earlier Mona was just a memory linked to Sharon and that failed relationship. Then she calls and I end up spending three nights of my break at her house, two nights of one-on-one intense sex and one night of doubling her with her pal Chet. The whole week had shaken me. When I was seeing Sharon I had a great relationship with Mona. She was flirty, attractive as hell, fun, lots of laughs… but I never spent much time considering what it would be like to go to bed with her. After all, I was with Sharon and they were friends and she was older and more experienced and… and… and…

But, to be blunt, fucking her was extraordinary. I learned something every minute I was with her. Still I had to admit to myself that, as exciting as it was, I didn’t really enjoy the time we spent with Chet. And that was what was bothering me as I drove along. I knew I didn’t want to share her. Or, more precisely, I didn’t want to be the other guy. Mona had done a good job of making me feel like I was the guy but, come on, he was at her place when I got there that night and he was there when I left and there was no way to make out of that anything other than what it was. I was just the stunt guy brought in when the script she was writing called for taking it from two cocks at the same time. Being a stunt man's good honest work, but I wanted to be the leading man. Hell, I wanted to be the director. I learned something very important about myself that week even if it took most of the three hour drive to understand it. There was no way anything would work out with Mona and thinking differently was just delusional. So I was looking forward to seeing Ann next weekend, maybe fool around with Sparkle again from time to time and it would be like the week with Mona never happened. All I had to do was let Mona know I'd be too busy with school stuff for her to come down.

I had been back in my apartment about ten minutes when the phone rang. I hadn’t even unpacked anything yet so I let it ring. It must have rung twenty times before the caller gave up. A half hour later it rang again and I answered. It was Ann. She said she’d been calling for a while. We stayed on the phone about an hour and she told me how her trip to Florida had gone. She asked what I’d done. “The same boring stuff,” I said, “shot some pool with the guys, hung out, nothin’ much.” She sounded quite excited about coming down to visit the next weekend. That was gratifying. My mind was reviewing the fact that Mona had invited herself down for the same weekend but I didn’t think there was any value in bringing that little fact up with Ann.

By the time I got off the phone with Ann I was tired and fell into bed. Before I fell asleep the phone rang again. I got up, stumbled out to the kitchen, and answered the big, black wall phone.
“Hullo…”
“About time you answered. I’ve been callin' all night,” Mona said.
“I got in about an hour ago.”
“Yeah, you’ve been on the phone that long. I kept getting a busy signal.”
“Then I went to bed,” I said.
“So you don’t wanna talk to me? You’d rather go to bed?” she said.
“Mona, you OK?”
“Yeah, I guess, why?”
“You sound, I dunno, kinda worked up, angry or sumpthin'” I said.
“I’m in a bad mood. I wanted to talk to you hours ago and it just kept ringing... and then I kept getting a busy signal the last hour or so. I wanted to talk to you hours ago…”

“Well, I was on the road. I’m here now. Is everything OK?”
All I could hear was the white noise on the phone line.
Then Mona said, “I had a big blow up with Chet before he left.”
My heart thumped. I didn't say anything for a few seconds.

“Really? What about?”
“Ohhhh… a whole buncha shit… he took off early this afternoon and I’ve been calling you ever since. Just wanted to talk. But I’ll let you go back to bed,” she said.
“Mona, it’s OK. I can talk.”
“Oh sweetie. I can’t wait to come down and see you next weekend,” she said.
The moment she said that I knew I’d need to come up with a plausible reason to postpone Ann’s visit.