Thursday, December 22, 2011

Cold Calls

My sales training lasted about fifteen minutes.  Most of that time Uncle Bobby spent teaching me that I  wasn't selling advertising, or commercial spots, or even the radio station.  I was selling my, our, audience to anyone who wanted to communicate something to them.  Another instance where I learned more from Bob than all of my college professors combined.  But that's a variation of a song I've been whistling all my life.  At least when I went to school it was affordable.  By now I've spent a fortune on several, let's just stick with 'several' shall we, educations.  Maybe someday I'll get some benefit from so much bread cast upon the waters.  I'm waiting.  Patiently.

The station's sales manager didn't have much to say.  He didn't manage any people actually since there were no sales reps other than him.  I found out later that Uncle Bobby actually handled the biggest billing accounts himself so, I suppose, the sales manager saw me as, at best, a nuisance and, at worst, competition.  His input came at the end when he handed me a list of all the accounts that were off-limits.  It was a long list for such a small community.

I took that afternoon driving all around town checking storefronts against his list.  I came up with about a dozen places where I would start trying my hand at selling.  The next afternoon I began calling on those businesses.  At the first place the only person in the shop wasn't the decision maker-- I'd come back later.  Store number two was satisfied with the Yellow Pages being their only ad outlet. I put them down as "undecided".  The next stop was a small rectangular shop crammed with gifts, plants, bric-a-brac, hand-crafted items and so on.  At the far corner of the shop I could see two women talking. I waited at the front register.

A few minutes later one of the two women made her way through the store towards me.  It had been a long, dry period since Denise had given me nasty good-bye sex, but even if I had been getting laid every night in my little trailer the woman walking towards me would have brought me to attention. 

"Is there something I can help you find?" she said.

She had a very welcoming smile and demeanor.
"Actually, I'm looking for the manager..."
"Well, there isn't really one of those... I'm the owner, manager, bookkeeper, janitor... you name it."
As I started to reply she broke into a big grin.
"You're Billy The Kid!"
"Nobody actually calls me that," I said.
"You do!  I listen to you all morning and you call yourself 'Billy The Kid' all the time!" she said.
"It's the station owner's idea.... I never used that name on air before..."
"Old Bob's a cheap S.O.B."

She knew Uncle Bobby.  That figures-- small town and all-- but it made me wary.  I wasn't about to agree that Bob was a cheapskate.
"Why does his naming me Billy The Kid make him, uh, frugal?"
"He had a morning guy a few years ago by that name and already had all those jingle thingies made up.  Plus now he's making you go out and sell advertising too... I assume that's why you're here.  Nah, Bob's a cheap bastard, but I love him just the same," she said.
All of this was throwing me for a loop.  I felt like the biggest no-nothing idiot on planet Earth.

She read the distress on my face I suppose as she quickly asked, "If you're not 'The Kid', what's your real name?"
I told her.
"Well, Wil, it's nice to meet you.  My name's Pamela. Pamela Scoggins."
"It's nice to meet you, Pamela.  I've learned a great deal from you in a short time.  Kinda knocked me sideways," I said.
"Aw, don't be all down, Sweetie!"
Pamela reached out and put her left hand on my right shoulder while grabbing my right forearm with her right hand.
"You're gonna do just fine here.  Hell, half the town's already talkin' about you, darlin'."
She let go of me and I said, "They are?  I mean, who is?"
"Most everybody I talk to.  We all listen to you every morning.  You're the best thing that ever happened to that station in the ten years I've been here.  So cheer up.  You're doin' great."

"Well... in that case Pamela... maybe we should talk about you advertising on that great morning show..."
"Slow down, Slick.  I'm closing up for my lunch hour.  Come back tomorrow afternoon and we can discuss it," Pamela said.
"Tomorrow afternoon it is," I said.
"See you then, Wil."

I decided that there was no reason to make any further cold calls that afternoon.  I drove out to my tin can home and spent some quality time alone.

Tuesday, December 6, 2011

Free Time

I could say that I learned more in the first six months working for Uncle Bobby at his little radio station just east of the Rocky Mountains than I learned in four years of college.  I could say that easily, but the larger truth is that I learned more about business in the first couple weeks at K--- Radio than I've ever learned at any school.

The work side of life was going great.  I was barely making more than minimum wage and I was living in a tin can owned by my boss and all I wanted to do was work-- nothing better than that, right?  My first week or so on the air was kind of rough-- I guess I was a little short on confidence.  I was doing morning drive.  It's called that because it's the time that people are sitting in traffic listening to the radio.  But I was broadcasting to people who would have to travel for hours to find a traffic jam.  More cattle were being driven than cars in my little audience.  I started to loosen up by week two and by the second month I thought I was doing well enough to start thinking about a bigger market.  But I had told the owner that I was in for six months minimum so I settled in and started having fun playing the hits.

The station was outside of town in a white concrete block building with the call letters and frequency painted in red and black on the front.  To call it a station logo would be to set the graphic arts back several centuries.  Inside the building was a tiny reception area, station owner Uncle Bobby's office, another smaller office for the sales manager, the control room, and a production room for cutting spots (recording commercials) that was the size of a walk-in closet.  There was also a record library that doubled as a room for the announcers to sit down and use the phone.  Just that and a unisex bathroom.  There was a coffee pot in the reception area and if you wanted a can of Coke or a pack of crackers the service station across the highway had vending machines. Ah, show business.

So there I was. A castaway on the prairie makin' with the snappy patter, weather, news, and sports between "Time In A Bottle" and "Kung Fu Fighting" five days a week between 6 and 10 AM and Saturdays between 10 and 2.  At some point during those first couple of months it dawned on me-- I wasn't getting laid.  Not even close.

To make celibacy tougher, I had time on my hands.  I'd get off the air at 10 AM and sit in the music library or cut spots until lunch.  I usually went to one of two local diners for lunch, ate alone, and waited to glimpse a woman who might be silly enough to hang out with the local morning guy who went by the on-air name of Billy The Kid.  (That name was Uncle Bobby's idea, not mine by the way.)  Nobody fitting the description ever came through the door.  I dreaded heading out to my dismal trailer in the evening.  Luckily I had to go to bed early to get up for my 6 AM shift.  On Sundays I'd just drive all over the area taking photographs and hiking around.

One afternoon I asked the station owner if there was more work I could do.  I was thinking maybe I could do something for Bobby at another station-- he owned two others in a couple of small towns a couple hours away.  But he suggested something I never even considered-- selling station advertising.  I immediately agreed to give it a try completely out of the lack of anything else to do in the afternoons.  The decision changed my life-- not only because it altered my career path but because the third business I called on as a spot peddler was a gift shop run by Pamela Scoggins.

Thursday, November 10, 2011

Life In A Tin Can

It's true, living alone in a trailer did make me long for the days back in the dorms at good old alma mater.

In fact, the longer I alternately boiled and froze in my $15/ month home the more I thought about the dorms... especially late at night...

Communal living had it all over the cold and lonely life.

Then again, my mind might have been playing tricks on me.

Wednesday, November 9, 2011

An Adventure Begins

About half way through my last year in college I started to wonder what I would could do for a living.  My degree wasn't going to be much help-- something I maybe should've figured out before I started school.  I had, however, taken a lot of radio, TV and film courses as electives.  What the hell, maybe I could make a living on the radio. Hey, dumber things happen every day!  As I neared graduation I started sending out dozens of resumes and air checks.

About a week after I moved back home I had a couple of responses.  To make a boring story shorter, one was for an off-air job in a mid-sized market and the other was on-air in a market too small to be classed as a small market.  We're talking tiny.  Now the mid-sized market could lead to on-air job eventually and clearly was the smarter way to go.  But the other one was out West in the shadow of the Rockies and meant being on the air every morning-- I gave them a call.

Turns out the guy I was calling actually owned the station.  We talked for a while and he finally said, "Look, I can't be flyin' you all the way out here just to interview. I'll hire ya sight unseen if you promise that even if ya hate it here you'll give me six months."  That sounded great to me.  After all, I was young and dumb.  I had to move myself out there, a very long two days of driving, but my new boss, Uncle Bobby, was going to front me $100 towards the move.  The rate of pay?  Well, I could have made as much mowing yards.  But as the old punchline goes, "What, give up show business?!?"

Plus, Uncle Bobby knew how tough it was to find housing in his windswept paradise so he was going to let me use a place he had for just $15/ month.  I don't have a picture of that palace but here's a reasonable facsimile. 

OK.  It might have been a little nicer...

Yeah, that's it.

Now I know what you're thinking. 

A place like that? 

Two words.

Pussy magnet.


Monday, October 31, 2011

Get Off My Lawn, You Damn Kids!

When I was considerably younger nobody over the age of twelve dressed up in costumes for Halloween.  In fact, you didn't want to be the dope who dressed up one year longer than all the cool kids.  Showing up for school in your homemade hobo outfit when everybody else was in their normal peg-leg pants, white socks, loafers, and paisley shirts meant you weren't in the clique.  Even if you had the latest Jan & Dean single before everybody else you were still a big dork.

Of course now fifty-two year olds dress up as harlots and nobody blinks an eye.  And their wives wear even more outrageous costumes!  I'm not against it, I'm just making a hackneyed observation.  I hear there's an opening for the final five minutes on 60 Minutes. 

Back in my day we bobbed for apples.  Motherfuckers.

Tuesday, October 4, 2011

Friday, September 30, 2011

Friday, May 13, 2011

Back Home, But First

I started to get the distinct feeling that I was going to unload in Candy's hungry mouth. It seemed a bit, um, premature to me. So I pulled back and got her off my cock. Looking at her big tits I figured a serious titty-fucking would be a great idea. But then again I had spent so much energy getting her pussy worked into a lather earlier... yes, better to bury it balls deep into that sweet, young slit.

I stepped over to the dresser where I had put my Walgreen's purchase and rolled a condom onto my stiff dick. As I walked back over to the bed she got flat on her back. She was in the middle of the bed so I grabbed her ankles with both hands and jerked her across the bed. When her ass was at the edge I put her legs in the air. As I let go she dropped her feet down but kept her knees pointed towards the ceiling. I ran the tip of my sheathed cock along her opening. She was still slick and I slipped into her easily. My feet were both on the floor so I had plenty of purchase as I got a steady rhythm going, filling her with cock, backing out to the tip, and then back in.

Candy let out a high-pitched squeak with every thrust. Sometimes it was a "yeah"... sometimes "fuck"... other times "oh"... but she made a noise every time I rammed it back into her. And with every thrust her big tits would float towards her shoulders and then roll back down. Up and back, up and back, until she'd hold them in both hands and tug at her nipples and moan an "oh fucccckkkkk" in time with the steady motion of my cock driving in and out of her slippery cunt.

The condom lessened the sensitivity so my feeling of urgency waned a bit. Still, the visual of this big-titted young girl taking my cock in her mouth and now her pussy was eventually going to trip all the switches and connect the circuits. After a good steady fucking I felt that rumble deep in my balls and picked up the pace, got her behind the knees, and pushed them up towards her head. With that I got a bit more depth and her high-pitched vocalizations turned guttural.
"Oh gawd fuck my pussy baby...fuck me .... gawd fuck me..." she repeated over and over and over.

I got her ass right to the edge of the bed and positioned her so her bare feet were on my chest so I could lean over her as we fucked. In that position I was driving almost straight down into her cunt and I tripled the speed and jack-hammered away at her fresh snatch. The sounds she made now weren't recognizable as actual words. Finally, I unloaded. And held still-- buried as far into her as I could possibly go.

About fifteen minutes later Candy said, "Omigod... I'm so late."
She jumped off the bed and started to pull her panties and sundress back on. "Oh shit, where did I leave my flip flops?" She was saying as she went out towards the kitchen.

"Can you stay another day?" she said, coming back into the bedroom.
Before I answered she said, "I could come over tomorrow morning, ya know, after about eight. That would give us some time before I have to be at work."
By now she had gathered up the few things she had been wearing or carrying when she arrived.
"No. I'm heading down the mountain in a few minutes," I said.

She threw a hip to one side and cocked her head. "Do ya hafta?"
"Well... when will you be back?"
"I dunno," I said.
After a pause I added, "You have my number now. Call me."
"OK. I will. Sorry I gotta go," Candy said.
"Hey, it's no problem. You better hurry up, I don't want you to get into trouble."
She grimaced. I quickly added, "this was fun."
"God it was, wasn't it," Candy said. Then she ran over and kissed my cheek, spun around, and went out the door. I marveled at her bubble butt as she left.

An hour and a half later I was out of the mountains and called my buddy who had loaned me the use of the condo.
"Hey Wil, what's goin' on?" he said.
"I'm on my way back home, just wanted to thank you for lettin' me use the place," I said.
"Everything go OK?"
"Yeah it was great. I got a lot done. Change of scene helped," I said.
We talked a bit about the usual stuff-- work and sports mostly.
Then my friend said, "Hey, did you try out any of the restaurants I gave you?"
I told him I had tried a couple of places but mostly ended up going to the cafe on the main drag. When I said the name of the place he kind of chuckled.
"Yeah, that place is pretty good. Gwen kept telling me to make sure you went there."
Gwen's his young girlfriend. My friend was married, briefly, a long time ago, and Gwen's the first female I've seen him really serious about since then.
"She own a piece of that place or something?" I asked.
"I wish! Nah, I dunno why. Guess she thought you'd like it. She's like that, ya know. As far as I was concerned you could eat at Hardee's."

We talked a bit more, I thanked him again, and then we hung up.

By the time I was home, for the second time that day, I had a feeling I'd been set up.

Thursday, May 5, 2011

Your turn

I was unbuttoning my shirt when Candy started pulling at my belt. I watched her unbuckle the belt, unbutton and unzip my jeans, and then undo the buttons on my black boxer briefs. She quickly pulled my stiffening cock out. For a young girl she exhibited a great deal of technique. I was especially intrigued with the way she would catch the ridge of my dick on her lower teeth and then proceed to roll the underside of her tongue back and forth over the head.

The sensation was unique and pleasurable-- almost friction-free and very slippery. Of course it also made it impossible to push into her throat. So I thought for a bit that she would balk at taking more in. But it was far from her only maneuver. I discovered, in fact, she had quite a talent for cocksucking. She went after my cock with at least as much vigor as I had used to finger-fuck her just moments before.

Yes, Candy went on to show me that she truly loved the feel of a hard cock in her mouth and throat and that she saw the benefit of lots of spit and drool. And what's not to like about that?

Wednesday, May 4, 2011

After Work Candy

I was contemplating attempting a first kiss when an odd sensation came over me. Not paranoia exactly, more like trepidation. This was going too easily. Maybe I'd watched too many noir films but it felt like a set-up. The buxom babe distracts me with her charms and her accomplices storm into the house while I have my hands full with, um, Candy.

I set my wine glass down, excused myself, and walked to the door. I set the deadbolt. If it was like those movies, when I turned around Candy would be pointing something deadly at me. You know, a gat, a roscoe, a heater, a convincer, AKA a pistol. I turned and she was still in the kitchen sipping wine. Hell, I don't know where she would have hidden a revolver anyway. The only thing she carried in with her was a small bag that I assumed held ID, car keys, cell phone, and not much else.

"Locking me in?" she said.
"Yeah I was afraid you'd run away."
"After I invited myself over... rrriiiight."
"You didn't really invite yourself, Candy. You demanded that I stay in town long enough for you to stop in."
She made a truly evil smirk.
"So, now that you're here, what is it you wanted?" I said.
"Oh, I don't know. Um, nice weather we're having... have you enjoyed your stay in the mountains? Guess there's lots of stuff we could talk about," she said.

I stepped over to her, put my arms around her, and leaned in for a gentle kiss. After the kiss she put her glass on the counter and we kissed more and with increasing passion. We moved a bit until her bottom was pushed up against the kitchen counter. Our bodies pressed against each other then, my left hand on the small of her back as my right found its way to her left breast. As I brushed across her sundress I could feel her erect nipple through the light cotton. And, as I did, her kisses became more demanding. She had her right hand on my shoulder and moved her left down to feel the bulge in my pants. I didn't let that go on for long-- I sure didn't want to get ahead of her. But I certainly did appreciate that she went for it. It was a pretty good sign she hadn't stopped in to discuss the weather.

She willingly accompanied me to the master bedroom. All but one of the blinds were tilted closed in the room and I went to adjust that remaining one to make sure the room was as dark as it was cool. As I turned back to her she had already kicked off her flip-flops and pulled her dress off. She stood facing me in nothing but her panties. I stopped myself from pointing out how eager she seemed to be. The last thing I wanted to do was make her self-conscious.

When I saw how large yet firm her breasts were I revised my estimate of her age downward. We kissed standing and facing each other. Then I sat her on the bed and helped her out of her panties. She started to rub my cock through my pants and I pushed her hands away. Sitting next to her on the bed and facing the same direction I leaned across in front of her. She, in turn, leaned back with her hands on the bed behind her as I slid the middle finger of my right hand into her closely trimmed but unshaven pussy. With my left hand I pressed down just above her opening. With light but insistent pressure I kept a circular motion going with that hand as I worked in and out of her with my finger. Her wetness looked almost like a slight, white foam clinging to her pussy lips when I pushed two fingers into her young slit while continuing to rub her with the other hand.

Candy moaned and let out a few gasping oh fucks. Then she brought her left leg up and propped her heel on the edge of the bed. She moved her left knee away from me thus spreading herself wide open. I responded by fitting three fingers into her and picked up the pace with both hands. Within a few moments she got extremely vocal before dropping onto her back. I took that as a sign that my hands had done all they could hope accomplish. I was used to it taking a bit longer, frankly, but who can argue with a satisfying result. I thought it was sweet that she had kept an older guy like me from having to work too long.

"Fuck, Mr. Wilson. That was incredible," Candy said finally.
"Was?" I said. "Why the past tense, young lady? You don't think we're done, do you?"

I began to get undressed.

Sunday, April 10, 2011

Oh Well, What's Another Day

On the way back to the condo I made a couple of stops. First at a shop I'd seen in my travels, The Wine Guy, where I picked up a couple of bottles. Then on to Walgreens. I had come up to the mountains unprepared for sexual misadventures so I thought a drug store visit was in order. Imagine how sad I'd be if curvy Candy had been willing... but not without a condom! I straightened things up a little around the condo and wondered when she'd arrive. White wine was in the refrigerator, red was on the counter... I made sure the bathroom was fresh and clean. Suddenly I started to feel like Felix Unger so I stopped and just relaxed. An hour passed with no knock on the condo door. Then two hours went by. I decided to get back to the work I'd brought with me. The afternoon dragged along. Finally it was 5 PM and Candy had not stopped in for a visit. I didn't have her phone number and hadn't given her mine either. Big mistake. I should have put it on the napkin. I think I didn't because the condo address was temporary but my cell number wasn't. Maybe I held back because of that. Stupid. Oh well. I guess I got stood up. I felt pretty dumb getting excited about the whole thing. Kinda felt old, frankly. Hell, I was sure she was at least twenty-five years younger than me. She probably had second thoughts. Couldn't blame her for that. ------------ The next day I skipped lunch and plowed through work. At 7 I went out and got a meal at a different place-- not the one where Candy worked. I watched TV when I got back to the condo that evening. I'm not much for most TV programs but old movies on TCM almost always entertain. I'd rather watch stuff from the 30's and 40's than most of the current stuff in the theaters anyway. I went to bed figuring I'd be done with the work I'd brought along after just a couple of hours in the morning. I went to sleep without jerking off to thoughts of Candy. Which isn't to say that I didn't jerk off, just that I thought of someone else. That should show her for standing me up! ----------- I was ready to blow town by eleven the next morning. It had been a productive few days, despite the no-show from my new young friend. For the hell of it I decided to stop at her cafe for lunch. It was late in the week and the town was starting to fill up with flatlanders for the weekend, plus it was earlier in the day than the other times I'd eaten lunch there, so there was a wait for a table. I opted to sit at the counter instead of sitting alone at a two-top that could be used for a couple. I looked around and didn't see Candy. Guessed she had the day off. I ordered and was drinking a cup of coffee when I sensed someone at my right. I turned and it was Candy. She put her hand on my arm and leaned closer. "Don't leave without talking to me, OK?" she said. I nodded. I dawdled a bit with my meal but there's only so long you can spend eating a club sandwich and chips, even if they refill your coffee eighteen times. Eventually I paid up and gave up my perch at the counter. I waited until I saw that she was up near the door and headed in that direction. She turned as I was a couple yards away. It was still noisy in the restaurant but she got close and whispered, "I'll be over in two hours, OK?" "I'm heading down the mountain." I said. "Don't! Really, I mean it, don't," Candy said in a low, husky whisper. I looked at her. "Two hours," I said. She beamed at me. And in her normal voice said, "That's great, Mr. Wilson!" ------------ An hour and fifty-five minutes later there was a knock at the condo door. I opened it and welcomed Candy into the living room. She had clearly not come straight from work. She was wearing a sundress and flip-flops, not the black pants, white oxford-cloth shirt and black shoes that were the uniform at the cafe. She also didn't smell like the restaurant. The sundress showed off her best assets in spectacular fashion. "Wine?" "Yum." "White or red?" "Is the white cold?" "It's been in the refrigerator for two days," I said. "Hmmm. Yeahhhhh, sorry about that..." "It's not a problem, Candy," I said as I opened the Chardonnay and poured her a glass. "I didn't have your number... sorry... I thought you had left town and hated me. I was so happy to see you at lunch... thanks for letting me come by..." "Candy, it's alright-- don't worry about it." I handed her a glass of wine. We clinked glasses and drank facing each other in the kitchen. As she drank I noticed her nipples were erect, very large, and trying to push right through her cotton sundress. Benjamin Franklin once said that "beer is living proof that God loves us and wants us to be happy." Given what I've studied about ol' Ben I'm sure he would agree with me that big, firm racks and sweet, round asses are evidence that God thinks we can be even happier than beer (or wine) can make us.

Friday, April 8, 2011

Back Up A Second

Dinner with Candy went well enough. I tried not to be impatient. It seemed important to her that we spend some time having a meal, talking, getting to know each other some more. I wasn't against that. But, truthfully, I hadn't made the drive to eat dinner and chat. I made the drive and paid for a good hotel suite for another shot at Candy. Well, that sounds crass, and, actually I liked talking to her and eating and drinking together in a nice restaurant-- but still, there was a great hotel suite waiting for us. The first time we got together had gone well despite her initial nervousness and I was certain this time would be even better. Maybe I should explain how we met. I was working on a project for my business and had gotten to a frustrating point. A change of scene away from my home office was needed for me to see everything with fresh eyes. It happened that a friend of mine had a condo in the mountains about three hours from my home. He offered it to me for a week and I took him up on the offer. I figured that four or five days alone in the mountains would be all I'd need to get off the dime and complete my project. The second day I was in the quaint mountain resort town I went to a little cafe on the main drag for lunch. It was after 1 PM and the rush was over so my waitress, a curvy young thing with lots of personality, gave me plenty of attention. Her name was Candy and she only worked there during the lunch rush-- 3 to 4 hours a day depending on traffic. I figured she was at least 25 years younger than me plus she was wearing a wedding band so I didn't think much about her sexually. I mean, I found her attractive enough, but I wasn't thinking, “man I've gotta nail that.” But... she was very flirty. Enough so that I found myself thinking about her that night when I went to bed. It wasn't that she was a knockout or anything. By modern standards she would be considered a little overweight. Her face was cute with a bit of “baby fat”, nice features, and shoulder length dark brown hair. As I was trying to get to sleep I kept thinking about the way she talked and the simple fact that “overweight” to some guys equals lots of round, soft, fun stuff to play with to me. Frankly, lying there in the dark thinking about Candy made my cock hard. I got to lunch the same time the next day. The place was empty as she refilled my glass of sweet tea. “So, what brings you to town? You didn't say,” Candy said. “I needed a change of scene and a buddy of mine let me use his condo for the week,” I said. “Cool. Just hangin' out then.” “Well, I'm doing some work stuff too, so it's not all fun and games.” A sad look flickered briefly across her face. “So, you're busy all day I guess,” Candy said. I kind of shrugged. “I'm not busy tonight,” I said, taking a chance that she might tell me that I'd misunderstood her friendly nature for something else. She looked at me for a second before she said, “I can't get away at night.” I looked her straight in the eye. After a couple of seconds she glanced away. “But I'll be done here in fifteen minutes and don't have anything planned for this afternoon.” I nodded slightly. “I'll go get your check,” Candy said. She came back and left with my credit card. When she came back with the receipt and pen I told her to wait while I signed it. Before I gave the pen back to her I wrote the address of my friend's condo on the napkin. “I'll be there all afternoon, Candy,” I said. “I'll keep that in mind, Mr. Wilson,” Candy said.

Thursday, March 24, 2011

Tuesday, March 22, 2011

Sunday Night

Not that long ago I found myself in a nice hotel room on a Sunday afternoon. By not that long ago I mean more recently than most of the encounters I describe here. (So... this fucking century? - ed.) And I didn't just find myself there, I meant to be there. After all I was paying for the room and I had driven a few hours to get there so "found myself" in the hotel is a stupid way to write it.

So scratch that first sentence. I haven't written anything for about six months or so. I'm rusty. Go easy on me, OK?

It was a Sunday. I got that basic thought down pretty clearly up above. A young friend of mine, Candy, was meeting me there and she was overdue. Not so late that I was worried, but a little late. I waited and relaxed by exploring the 100 plus channels. Many guys relax this very same way, by endlessly changing channels over and over and over again. Very therapeutic. Women often act annoyed when we do this in their presence. But we do it for two simple reasons: 1. we can 2. it's a way of shutting up TV people who bore us. Like when on ESPN they stop talking about baseball or football to talk about the NBA...*click*. If you're around we add a third reason: it pisses you off. I kid because I love.

Candy got there and I pulled the cork on the bottle of Cab I had brought. It was a decent wine but not showy. For some reason she had asked me to wear a suit and I might have been the only guy in the county wearing one in the afternoon that Sunday. She had dressed up too and if wearing a suit was the price I had to pay for seeing her like that, well, it was a very small price indeed. Glasses clinked and we tried the wine. Candy doesn't know a lot about wine but she knows that red wine helps her forget that she shouldn't be fucking me. Come to think of it, what more does she need to know about wine than that? I like Cabernet, I don't like sweet wine, so I bought something I liked. Is that too selfish? Not really. If she didn't like it she didn't say. She's such a cute young thing that she thought it was just "amazing" that I brought a bottle of wine. I admit it, I love it when a woman seems grateful. Helpful hint, don't bother faking orgasms. Spend more time faking gratitude. Unless you don't want to get along with men. Which is OK too. My helpful hints are worth exactly what you pay for them.

We just had one glass apiece before leaving for the restaurant. The only physical contact we'd had was when I opened the hotel door for her and we hugged and kissed cheeks. On the drive to the restaurant she started to apologize for being late...

Jerry didn't leave for the airport as early as she had figured he would.... she couldn't start getting ready until he was definitely gone and not popping right back for something he forgot... 'cause then he'd wonder why she was getting all dressed up as soon as he was out the door on a cross country business trip... then she made a wrong turn on the hour drive to the hotel... and had to dig through her bag for the directions... 'cause she didn't want to put it in the GPS 'cause Jerry might find the hotel in there and wonder what the hell she was doing going to a hotel... and she didn't know how to delete anything from the damn GPS... and she wasn't even sure she had put the directions in the right purse... but she had... and if it had been five minutes longer she would have called me... but she was sure she was getting close so she didn't and ...

I almost reached for the remote. But, her jabbering away didn't really bother me. It was kind of nice actually because it meant she was really nervous. I liked knowing that she was all keyed up about the evening ahead. We were going to share a really good dinner. And then we were going back to the hotel and we were going to do unspeakable things to each other for hours and hours. It excited her. And that was good.

"I wasn't worried. I knew you'd make it, or let me know if something had gone wrong. Anyway, it was worth the wait," I said.

"Thanks, Wil," she said.
And that was the last I heard about Jerry that night.