Of Lust and Love
Tales from the Eroticon of Beau Kotchio
Volume II
Getting It On in America: Modern Humor
Tales 20 to 37
For Adults Only
Beau Kotchio
Smashwords Edition, License Notes
This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. The ebook may not be resold or given away to other people, including minors. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person. If you are reading this book and did not purchase it, or if it was not purchased for your use only, please return to Smashwords .com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.
Copyright @ 2010 J. Beauxrêves Kotchio
Cover Photo: The Kiss by Auguste Rodin, National Museum of Fine Arts, Buenos Aires, Argentina, used with permission of Creative Commons’ Attribution 2.0 Generic license.
See last page for information about the author and other volumes in the series.
********
Preface to The Eroticon
Albert Einstein famously said, “God is subtle, but he is not malicious.” Perhaps this is true in physics, but in matters of the heart I am not so sure.
To see to it that we mate to ensure the survival of the species, the Creator, through Evolution, has foisted on us Desire. And so powerful and relentless is this drive that we make fools of ourselves as we succumb to its peremptory dictates.
Love and Lust are serious business, often sweet, sometimes sad, sometimes frightening. Also sometimes really funnyso long as somebody else is involved. Only the recognition that we are all touched from time to time by the madness allows us to empathize with the victims. Smarmy censoriousness is certainly unfair. Likewise Victorian prudery. No pretending here, as we explore the reality of what you know people really do and say.
So come empathize, have a chuckle, nod in recognition, be shocked, or shed a tear, as you explore this varied selection of my favorite stories from The Eroticon, One Hundred Tales of Lust and Love.
—Beau Kotchio
Of Lust and Love: Volume II
Getting It On in America: Modern Humor
The Tales:
20. Quickie Service
21. A Non-Negotiable Demand
22. A State University Girl
23. Motivation
24. The Quarterback
25. The Cop
26. The Alarmist
27. The I of the Beholder
28. A Surprise Explained
29. The Bride
30. Snowed In
31. The Doctor
32. Filling a Need
33. A Late Date
34. Writer’s Cramps
35. The Lady
36. Birthday Suit
37. The Babe
Like a box of chocolates, each of my books of short stories is not to be gobbled all at one sitting. Enjoy them, but take your time...that way you'll find them more delicious. —Beau Kotchio
*******
The Twentieth Tale
Quickie Service
One hot Saturday morning in July, Franny Lou’s Daddy invited her to accompany him on a trip from their farm to the hardware store. Franny Lou accepted eagerly and put on a light dress over her skimpy underwear.
During the summer, when school was out, Franny Lou seldom got a chance to make the long trip into town unless her Daddy allowed her to go along with him in the pickup on his rounds to the feed store or hardware store or grain elevator. There were always plenty of chores to keep her occupied on the farm, but it was lonely without young people of her own age. She was eighteen, a senior in high school, a cheerleader, and always ready for some fun. She hummed to herself all the way into town.
“Fill ‘er up!” Daddy said to the young man at the gas station, “and put me a case of that 20-40 oil in the back, y’all heah?” He headed for the rest room. “Ah’ll be back in a few minutes.”
The handsome young attendant acknowledged these instructions crisply with a nod. “Yes sir, Mr. Hornsby.”
Franny Lou opened her door, climbed down from the front seat of the truck, and leaned against the gas pump.
“Hi, Donny,” she murmured as she greeted the captain of the football team with lowered eyes.
“Hi, Franny Lou.” The young man smiled down at her pleasantly. He wiped a grease-stained hand across his damp brow, adding another black mark to his face. “How y’all doin’ this summer?”
“Sure is hot,” she said, “wouldn’t you like to get into the shade?” She laid one hand between her breasts and drew the palm of her other hand up her thigh, raising her skirt.
“You know it, darlin’,” he smiled, “I’m plenty hot, too.”
She glanced speculatively at the small gas station and its surroundings. Her eye lit on the enclosure out back where the trash dumpster was stored.
She winked at Donny and nodded in the direction of the dumpster. “Wanna show me your dirty stuff, Donny?”
His eye followed hers. He grinned. He topped off the gas, clanked the hose into its receptacle, turned the gas cap smartly, and followed Franny Lou around to the back of the building.
When he joined her in the enclosure behind the dumpster, she already had her skirt pulled up and her panties down.
Donny tucked a five dollar bill in Franny Lou’s blouse.
“Oh no, Donny, you don’t have to do that. I like you.”
“It’s OK, Franny Lou. I’m workin’. I got money now.”
She kissed his cheek. A little of her lipstick rubbed off on him and a little of his grease rubbed off on her. They laughed.
The two young people didn’t take long to complete their transaction.
When Daddy returned to the pickup, Franny Lou was seated in the front seat and the case of oil was in the back.
Daddy handed his credit card to the boy. “Did you fill ‘er up?”
“You bet, yessir…right to the top!”
Franny Lou looked straight ahead out the windshield, smiled, and hummed her favorite Elvis tune.
Finis
The Twenty-First Tale
A Non-Negotiable Demand
Her hair hung loosely about her shoulders, and some strands were drawn up behind her head and held there by a floppy bow. She wore large horn rim glasses with plain glass, for the look. She wore no makeup and no bra. Her dress hung shapelessly around her body and fell all the way to her hiking boots. Long strands of colored glass and stone beads were draped around her neck and hung to her waist, where she had tucked some flowers into her sash. She carried a neatly hand-lettered placard that read No Nukes! on one side and Make Love Not War! on the other. Annie Murphy was ready to do battle for Chairman Mao.
The leader of the march briefed them from the steps of the Library. “The capitalist roaders’ fuzz will be out in force. Chairman Mao teaches that we have to strike the war mongers hard, but in a way that frustrates them from using their counterforce. So we’ll march down to the intersection and all lie down in the street.”
Jimmy O’Connor got the call-up at work. He gunned his pickup, tore home, put on his uniform, and headed for the Armory.
The local National Guard unit had been ordered out to protect State property, namely the ROTC and National Guard Armory that stood on one edge of the campus on the demonstrators’ line of march. Like Jimmy O’Connor, the other Guardsmen were urgently summoned by telephone calls, and they too donned their uniforms, and sped by foot, car, and bus to the assembly point at the Armory.
They were issued rifles and ammunition. They were lined up on the Armory floor to receive their orders. The drivers of the Guard’s trucks were sent out to get the engines warmed up in case it should become necessary to move the unit elsewhere in a hurry.
“Now men,” the Major said firmly and slowly, “you are each being issued one rifle clip, and you will load, because those are the orders I’ve got straight from the President by way of the Pentagon and the Governor’s office. But boys, for God’s sake don’t shoot anybody! You hear that? Don’t shoot! We don’t want another Kent State. All we’re here to do is to show that the Government intends to defend its real estate. The Police will deal with anything else. Now these kids will probably try to get a rise out of you. Just ignore ‘em. They may even try to push you, but don’t push back. Don’t even use your rifle butts. Just stand your ground, that’s all you got to do today. Cool. Very cool. Y’all got that?”
“Yes sir,” the Sergeant Major answered for all of them and saluted.
“Leffff-t face!” the Sergeant cried, “column of twos, on the double!”
The Guardsmen trotted out of the Armory and established a perimeter around the building, standing shoulder to shoulder with their rifles crossed over their chests.
The marchers appeared around the corner of the Library and started down the street past the Armory. To Jimmy, it looked as if there were more than two hundred of them. As expected, some of the young people broke ranks from the rest of the group and drifted over toward the soldiers. Those that carried placards shook them at the soldiers and taunted them. “Capitalist lackeys!” they shouted. When the soldiers remained stone-faced and immobile, the demonstrators came closer.
“Good grief, Annie, is that you?” Jimmy said to the strangely dressed and coifed apparition jumping up and down in front of him.
The girl lowered her placard and stared. “Jimmy O’Connor? What are you doing here?”
“I’m in the Guard, saphead, can’t you see?” It was what he had always called her, the girl next door, as they were growing up. She didn’t mind. “What the hell are you doing here?” he demanded.
“I’m going to college,” she answered with a logic that escaped him. He thought perhaps there was hidden there some vague allusion to growing up, challenging authority, pushing the envelope. He was familiar with the feeling.
“Annie Murphy, you are out of your dumb mind! You could get hurt here! Don’t you see all those cops down there? You ought to go home before something bad happens.”
“Nothing bad is going to happen. We’re just making a peaceful demonstration. That’s our right as American citizens. We’re just going to go down there to the intersection and lie down on the pavement so the cars can’t go through.” She pointed toward the intersection.
“And the police are going to crack your heads!”
“No they won’t, Jimmy. Everywhere else this has been done, we just lie there until the police pick us up and haul us off to jail. It’s a lark. And we make our point.”
“Which is?”
“Stop the war, stop nuclear proliferation, stop picking on the Russians and Chinese.”
“Chee-rist! Annie, have you lost your marbles?”
“Of course not, Jimmy,” she flounced, “I’m a college girl now, not just some little girl next door.” So saying, she plucked a flower from the bunch at her waist and tucked the stem into the barrel of his rifle. She laughed mischievously and ran back to the line of march.
The police were now barring access to the intersection. Jimmy heard their bull horns. “Stop. You kids stop now. Do not come any farther. You are subject to arrest. Stop now.”
Before the marchers could get to their goal and lie down, the police began to advance toward them. They wore helmets and carried plastic shields and batons. As they reached the first ranks of the marchers they began to swing the batons.
The Sergeant’s radio crackled. It was the Major. “What’s happening?” he asked.
“They’ve already passed our position, sir. The police… well, sir. to put it plainly.…the police are fomenting a riot.”
“A riot? Now listen, Sergeant! You get your men out of there pronto. And for Christ’s sake, no shooting!”
“Yes sir!” It was all the Sergeant had been waiting for. He bellowed, “Unload your weapons. Unload! Into the trucks!”
Jimmy nervously scanned the mob as he quickly shucked the clip out of his rifle. Finally he saw Annie. She had fallen on her knees near the front of the crowd.
Jimmy tossed his rifle, helmet, and backpack into a truck and lit out running toward Annie. Policemen were now beating the marchers on their heads, and the blood was flowing. Canisters of tear gas arched up into the air, smashed onto the pavement, and exploded into blue clouds. Jimmy heard the voice of Bull Dawson, the police chief, on the horns urging his troops on. “Go get ‘em, boys! Get the Commie bastards!”
“Annie!” Jimmy cried. She was on her knees with one arm raised protectively over her head. A policeman seized her wrist and raised his baton.
Jimmy grabbed the baton and pushed the man from behind. He fell on his face. Jimmy snapped the baton in two and held the splintered end toward the policeman’s face. Jimmy recognized him…he had played guard on the high school team two years ahead of Jimmy. “Go ahead, Stevenson,” Jimmy growled, “just try it!”
“Dammit, Jimmy, you’re interfering with the law!”
“I’m preventing an unwarranted use of force. You touch me, and when this mess gets before the judge, your ass will be in a crack!”
Deprived of his weapon, the policeman scrambled away. “Fuck you, O’Connor!” he shouted from a safe distance.
“Hurry up, Annie, on your feet. Let’s get out of here!” Jimmy pulled her off the ground. Holding her arm, he hustled her away from the fracas in the street.
Her face white with shock, Annie still clutched her placard in one hand and Jimmy in the other.
He drove her home in his pickup. The rush of cool air from the car window steadied her.
She invited him in. “Sit in the parlor, Jimmy. I’ll make some lemonade. Mom and Dad are at work.”
She tossed her placard on the coffee table. He sat on the sofa. She was gone for five minutes and then returned with a small tray and two tall glasses of the pale yellow beverage. She placed the tray on the coffee table and sat down next to Jimmy.
Jimmy wiped the perspiration from his forehead and took a long swig.
Annie sipped her drink, then put the glass down. “Jimmy, today you saved my life,” she said, “…and you know what that means.”
“No. What?”
“Why, it’s an ancient custom.”
“What’s that?”
The corners of her mouth turned up. “It means…I belong to you!” She turned toward Jimmy, placed her hands on his shoulders, and puckered her lips.
“Good grief!” he cried. All the old aversion to the little pest in braids next door surged in his breast. “You almost get yourself killed playing Communist…maybe me, too… and now you want to make up? Dammit, Annie, you have really got this coming!”
He seized her by the waist, upended her over his knee, pulled up her long dress, and spanked her. She was wearing bikini panties and most of her bottom lay bare under his hand.
“Ow!” she cried, but then laughed gaily. “Go ahead, Jimmy, let me have it good!”
“My God, you Commie, have you gone kinky, too?”
“Ow!...Of course not, Jimmy. I don’t really care about any of that political talk...
Oww!...Chairman Mao and all that... Oooh! ...There’s only one thing I really believe is important...Ouch!”
“Oh great! What’s that…give all our money to the Russians and Chinese?”
“No, of course not, silly...Owww!...It’s this!” Still lying over his knees with her bottom exposed, she reached for her placard and held it up so he could see the side that read Make Love Not War. She looked into his eyes. “That’s non-negotiable.”
“Well, I can buy that.” He yanked down her skirt and freed her.
“I thought you would.” She threw her arms around his neck and kissed his mouth.
The sweet pressure of her lips melted him. He embraced her tightly and returned her kiss.
“We’re not kids anymore,” she observed. “I’m not showing it to you in your tree house,” she murmured as she brushed her lips against his. “I’m a big girl, Jimmy. Now you can do the wild thing with me, if you want.”
He laughed out loud.
And then they did the wild thing, right there on her mother’s sofa.
Finis
The Twenty-Second Tale
A State University Girl
Dolph Kriesky sat at his desk in his college dorm room and gazed absently out the window at the brilliant red and yellow leaves of the Fall trees. He loved this spot in the mountains of New England. But it was isolated…and a men’s school. He missed girls, and he wasn’t able to get away to visit women’s colleges.
He touched his pen to his lip. He was trying to compose a letter. The big homecoming football game was coming up, and he wanted to persuade his high school girl friend to make the long train trip north to be with him for the weekend.
As he thought of Carly, he smiled. She had been so sweet and shy. He realized that was why she had appealed to him. Of course he thought she was super pretty, too. He used to lie in his bed at home and picture the shape of her legs, the curve of her bust and bottom. She was so sweet, and yet so sexy, too. And her blonde ponytail was as cute as could be.
At the high school senior picnic she had let him take her by the hand and wander off to a private spot by the creek where they lay down together on a blanket and held each other and kissed. Her kisses had brought him to a painful erection against her belly, but they had never gone all the way. They had preferred merely to explore the sweetness of kissing and opening their mouths to each other.
And then the summer was over and they had gone off to college.
Dolph wondered if Carly were enjoying the big state university she had chosen. It too was in an isolated spot, far away in the mountains down South. She had written Dolph one letter, a cheery note about getting settled in. He had not responded right away, just as he never wrote home, and now he felt guilty because he had not kept in touch with her. She had not written again. He wondered anxiously whether she would accept his invitation.
At last he set to work and composed a brief note asking her to come up for the weekend one month hence. He didn’t add any news. After all, they could compare notes when they were together.
She wrote back promptly and accepted.
Carly arrived on the late Friday afternoon train with dozens of other young women who had decided to brave the snappy New England autumn to visit boyfriends for the homecoming weekend and football game.
Dolph stood on the train platform with the other boys and scanned the crowd. Finally he spotted Carly as she stepped to the door of one of the train cars. She was dressed in a camel’s hair polo coat, wool knee socks, and loafers, and she had a big wool college scarf wrapped about her neck. Her blonde hair was pulled back in the same pony tail she had always worn in high school.
She spotted Dolph, and he was pleased to see her eyes glitter with recognition. She waved eagerly.
He pushed rapidly through the crowd. “Hey, Carly, it’s really great to see you. Here, let me take your suitcase.”
He wanted to embrace and kiss her like so many of the other couples were doing, but his old shyness exerted itself, and he held back.
She promptly held out her hand, and he shook hands with her.
“Hi, Dolph,” she cried cheerfully, “you look great! New England must be agreeing with you.” She slipped her hand in his arm as they walked along the train platform.
“Oh yeah, I love it up here. ‘Course, I do get lonely. I’m sorry I didn’t answer your letter, Carly. I dunno, the time just got away.”
“Well, I admit I was hurt at first, Dolph. But I’ve gotten over that. And I was thrilled when I did get your invitation. I’m really happy to be here.”
She smiled up at him, exposing her beautiful perfect teeth.
Again he was tempted to hug her and kiss her right on the spot, but the moment passed.
“I’ve got a room for you at one of the boarding houses near the campus. Everything’s within walking distance.”
“Good. Can we stop by your dorm first? I’d love to see your room. She slid her hand down his arm and took his hand. I’ve never been to a men’s college before.”
“Oh yeah, sure.”
He admired her trim ankles and shapely calves as she climbed ahead of him to this fourth floor room. Her bulky coat hid the rest of her figure, and he wondered if her body was as appealing as it had been in high school.
In his small room, she stood at his window and looked out pensively at the colorful Fall foliage.
“When I went off to college, Dolph, I discovered I really missed you.” She turned and stood beside his narrow bed. “I’ve learned a lot at college, Dolph, and one of the first things I learned is, State girls don’t beat around the bush.”
She slipped the polo coat off her shoulders and let it fall to the floor. The only thing under her coat was the college scarf.
She sat on the bed then lay back on it with her hands behind her head. She opened her thighs invitingly.
“C’mon, Dolph,” she smiled, “I dare you…if you’re not still too shy like you always were.” She laid a hand on the inside of her thigh.
Finis
The Twenty-Third Tale
Motivation
Billy lay on the living room carpet and leafed through his father’s college scrapbook. He paused at a page to which a newspaper article had been taped. Now yellowed with a dozen years of age, the article was headlined, “GREEKS, COEDS STREAK GRADUATION”. Billy studied the accompanying news photo of a crowd of naked young men running after a crowd of naked young women.
His face screwed up with earnest curiosity, Billy put the opened scrapbook on his father’s knees. “Dad, what does streaking mean?” His father broke into a broad grin. The sight of the old newspaper clipping suddenly brought back fond memories.
The Delts had decided to wear nothing but shoes and socks under their graduation robes. They had secretly agreed that at the conclusion of the graduation ceremonies, they would all toss their caps in the air, throw their gowns on the ground, and streak as a body across campus to their fraternity house.
At the actual graduation ceremony, the Kappas had stolen the boys’ thunder―the girls tossed off their gowns first! They had then led the boys a merry chase beneath the towering elms of the university grounds.
The event was reported in the New York Times, the Los Angeles Inquirer, and every paper in between, not to mention the International Times Herald and other newspapers, magazines, and journals around the world.
Afterwards, the University authorities…red-faced, craven, and unsure what action they ought to take…issued a statement that basically mumbled “no comment.”
And when the Delts’ fraternity honor court attempted to determine who had leaked the plan to the Kappas, the discussion was heated until a wise senior pointed out that the outcome had actually been much more entertaining than the original plan. All the brothers then quickly agreed that no further attempt should be made to affix blame for the breach of fraternal secrecy.
Billy listened carefully to his father’s explanation. The reasoning was vague and the logic escaped him. Nevertheless, his father was sure he had gotten the drift of things, for his son immediately posed an intelligent question..
“Dad,” the boy asked eagerly, “when I grow up, can I go to State?”
“Sure Son,” the father answered fondly, and tousled the boy’s hair…“but of course it probably won’t be anything like the ‘60s.”
Finis
The Twenty-Fourth Tale
The Quarterback
Barbara McKenzie and Gloria Frye lay on their backs side by side at the beach. Each girl had a large towel under her, and each had rolled down the straps of her bikini bra and turned the edges of her briefs under as far as possible, the better to let the Florida sun’s rays reach as much as possible of their very smooth skins. They had taken turns applying cocoa butter to each other’s back and flanks, and the little breeze blowing up from the surf carried the heavy stench away from them to other nostrils. The girls lay with their legs straight but opened carefully, and with the insides of their arms turned palms up, so that King Sol could brown them evenly. It was essential not to show any white skin above the line of one’s strapless prom dress. Around them lay their tote bags, coolers, pocket book romances, cotton pullovers, and extra towels. Each girl wore reflecting sunglasses and a porkpie cap pulled down over her eyebrows, but they had propped their heads up with rolled towels so they could surreptitiously watch the boys who strolled by at the water’s edge or dived in the surf. As they watched, they chatted.
“I tell you, Barbara, I am definitely, but definitely, not going to any more frat parties with Bernie Smolsky.”
“I told you he was gross.”
“I cannot believe he threw up on my dress. I mean, have you ever?”
“Unfortunately, I have.” Barbara McKenzie carefully waved a fly away from her face. “But I still believe my mother is right about blind dating. You’ve got to do it. You never know when you’ll meet somebody you really like.”
“Well I am not going out with Bernie any more, that is for sure.”
“You’ll survive. Into every life, as Plato says, a little shit must fall.”
“Fuck Plato.”
Gloria Frye pushed up on her elbows and swept her eyes over the wet band of sand twenty yards away from their towels. Two well-muscled young men vigorously swatted a rubber ball back and forth with wooden paddles. Beyond, in the waves, several brown young gods sat astride surf boards.
“Here we are surrounded by all these hunks, spring break is almost over, it’s six weeks to prom night…-and you and I, Barbara dear, have not even had one decent invitation. Like, we are really up shit’s creek without a paddle.”
“Don’t be silly, Gloria. Six weeks is a long time. Besides, it’s not as if you have to just sit around and wait for some guy to ask you.”
“Oh, sure, these days we can ask the boy. How humiliating!”
“Yes, you can do the asking. But if you can’t stand that idea, there are certainly other ways to go about it.”
“Such as?”
“My god, Gloria, don’t be so stupid. You’ve got an ass. Just waggle it!”
“What’s that supposed to mean? I’m no slut!”
“I didn’t say you were. Me either. I’m just talking about doing a little flirting.”
“Oh, sure, Barbara, as if I were a great looker.”
“Looks aren’t everything. Besides, I think you are very pretty.”
“Thanks a lot, Barbara, but I don’t want to go to the prom with you.”
Barbara laughed and waved the fly away.
“Look, let’s make a bet, Gloria. I bet you I can show you how to get a date for the prom with anybody you want.”
“Fat chance!”
“No, I’m serious. Just think of somebody you’d like to go with…and then go after him.”
“Oh, sure. Clark Gable.”
“No, seriously. Bert Stallings, or Jerry Smithson.”
Barbara had named the head of the student government and the lead in the class play. Gloria turned, sat up on her knees facing her friend, and put her hands on her hips.
“Look, Barbara, if you’re so hip on this big idea of yours, why don’t you be the one to do it first. Like, just tell me, Miss Tiger Hunter, just who are you going to go after?”
“Don’t be silly. I’ll get a date. Jimmy Sutton will probably ask me.”
“Oh, so that’s how it is. Can’t take your own advice!”
“I didn’t say that.”
“Well, good. So, I’ll bet you right back. While we’re sitting around waiting to see if Jimmy Sutton will ask you, why don’t you just show me how you yourself can get a date for the prom with anybody you want.”
“It can be done… I just haven’t thought of anyone.”
“All right, then, let me help you. How about Carl Stone?”
“He’s going steady. That doesn’t count.”
“Well, then, if we may aspire to reach the stars, how about…Todd Ritchie. He’s not dating anybody. He’s too much in love with football.”
Barbara sat up with her arms around her legs and rested her chin on her knees thoughtfully. A picture of Todd Ritchie swam before her mind…the swatch of white blond hair, the square jaw, the clear blue eyes. She saw him on the gridiron, fading back to pass, then tucking the ball under his arm and running for the first down himself. She turned to Gloria and smiled weakly.
“I could do a lot worse than getting the varsity quarterback to notice me, huh?”
“So, smartass, what do you say?’
“All right. You’re on. If I get Todd Ritchie to ask me to the prom, then you have to go after somebody yourself.”
“Done. I’ll start my list.”
“What if Jimmy Sutton asks me first?”
“Stall him. You can always accept him later if you can’t swing it with Todd Ritchie.”
Barbara tossed her head.
“Okay. Done!”
They shook hands, then turned and lay face down on their towels. They tugged at their bikinis to make sure their bottoms were covered.
Todd Ritchie stood on the steps of the library holding his books in one hand like a football. His back to the door, he gazed out over the campus, then let his eyes wander up to the mountains in the distance. He might go camping up there on the weekend. With his free hand he zipped up his windbreaker.
As he turned to enter the library, a girl on her way out careened into his elbow. The books she had clutched to her bosom fell to the steps, and she too would have fallen if Todd had not grasped her with his free arm.
“Whoa!… Are you all right?”
The girl’s hands rested against his chest. His arm was like an iron bar around her waist.
“Oh,” she cried, “I’m so sorry. Really.” She felt him relax his protective grip. “I’m all right. Thank you.”
He dropped his arm and stooped quickly to pick up her books. She knelt beside him, pushed a strand of blond hair over her ear, and helped.
“I’m so sorry,” she said again. She smiled warmly. “I wasn’t watching where I was going.”
“Well,” he smiled back, “no harm done.”
“You’re Todd Ritchie, aren’t you?” she said brightly, as if she had just noticed.
He nodded modestly. “That’s right.”
He took her elbow and helped her rise as he stood up. She pressed the books to her chest. He looked down at her. She was pretty.
She glanced at his eyes, then looked down. She put out her hand. “I’m Barbara McKenzie.”
He took her hand. “Hey, Barbara. Good to know you.”
She withdrew her hand quickly. “Well, again, I’m sorry I bumped into you.”
“Any time.”
“Well, goodbye.”
She hurried on down the steps. Todd Ritchie shook his head as he pushed open the glass door to the library.
Gloria Frye shook her head in total disgust. “Barbara, that has got to be the dumbest thing you have ever, ever, ever done!”
“Well, at least now he knows my name.”
Barbara McKenzie took a deep breath, dried her palms by brushing down her dress against her thighs, and pushed open the swinging doors that separated the hotel lobby from the cocktail lounge. She glanced around quickly to get her bearings, noticed the directional sign to the rest rooms, and headed for the ladies room.
She only wanted to reassure herself about her hair and makeup. She had pulled her blond curls back and tied them loosely so her ears and neck would show. The dress was not cut low, but it fit snugly so that it pulled up her breasts and curved in under her ample rear. She turned once or twice in front of the mirror to check the alignment of the seams. She freshened her lipstick, blotted her lips, and tossed the tissue in the waste receptacle. She tucked her purse under her arm and re-entered the lounge with a confident swagger.
Once again pausing to look around, she sighted the bar and headed for it. The lounge was not very dark, and it was almost empty. At five-thirty on a Wednesday evening, there was also no band nor any piped-in music. She wondered why people came to such a place to drink.
She perched on a stool at one end of the bar and placed her purse on the stool beside her.
As she had expected, Todd Ritchie uncoiled himself from where he was sitting behind the bar and approached her.
“What’ll it be?”
“Hi.”
“Oh, hi! I didn’t recognize you…you’re all dressed up.” He smiled. “Let’s see, it’s Barbara, right?”
“How nice, you remembered. And you’re Todd.”
“Right.”
“What a surprise,” she said mendaciously. “I had no idea you work here.”
“Only outside football season. Part time.”
“What a coincidence.”
“What would you like to drink?”
“Oh, just a coke or something.”
“Coming up.”
He returned with a tall frosted glass. A cherry was impaled on the wooden stirrer and two straws also stood up in the glass.
He leaned back against the display of liquor bottles on his side of the bar and watched her while she lifted the glass, held aside the stirrer, and wrapped her lips around the straws. She looked at him over the edge of the glass and sucked suggestively.
“Waiting for a date?” he asked conversationally.
She lowered the glass. “Oh, no.”
“A lot of people wait for their dinner dates here. The hotel restaurant doesn’t open until six.” He folded his arms across his chest. “It’s a pretty good place to eat.”
She nodded. “Yes, I’ve been there.”
He looked at her for a moment, then looked away at the other end of the bar.
She spoke hastily. “Don’t let me keep you from your work.”
“No problem. Nothing much happening here.” He smiled. “Looks like you’re ready for a night on the town.”
She ran her hand through the ends of her hair.
“I’d love to go out with somebody, but...” She shrugged.
“Yeah, I know the feeling. You can’t always find somebody you want to be with.”
She nodded and let her eyes linger on his.
He wiped the bar with his cloth. “You know, Barbara, some people like a real hot spot, noisy, with disco. Me, I prefer a quiet spot, where you sit peacefully and talk to people.”
“Don’t you like to dance?”
“Not really,” he shrugged, then smiled sheepishly. “Well, fact is, I don’t know how.”
“You’d probably be good at it. You’re good on your feet on the football field.”
“Well, that comes from years of training.”
“Dancing is the same way, probably easier.”
He nodded his head doubtfully, so she smiled.
“You just need somebody to show you how.” She paused, waiting for him to pick up the hint. “But I agree with you, Todd. I like a quiet spot where two people can just talk and get to know each other.”
He laughed and looked around. “Pretty quiet around here.”
“Yes.” She picked up the glass, sipped, and looked at him. “I like it that way. You’re easy to talk to.”
“Would you like another coke?”
“No, thanks,” she sighed. “I have to go now. How much?”
“A coke? On the house.”
“Well, how nice. I knock the man down, and he buys me a drink. Now I owe you a favor.”
“My pleasure. You know…fellow students, tight budgets … we have to stick together.”
“I can relate to that.”
She slid off the stool and picked up her purse.
He smiled. “Thanks for stopping by.”
She smiled back. “Let me know when you want a dancing lesson.”
“I’ll do that.”
She didn’t look back as she walked slowly out of the restaurant, though she was dying to know whether he watched her bottom as she left. She thought it was her best feature.
He merely wondered why she had dressed up to come in for a drink.
Gloria Frye looked puzzled. “But he must have realized you only came down to the bar to see him.”
“Of course, silly, that was the whole idea.”
Barbara McKenzie expended a whole week in working out her next ploy for landing Todd Ritchie, but this time she was sure that followup meetings would be automatic. She discovered he had registered for buddy-system tutoring in English, and she had persuaded the departmental secretary to assign her to the task. Without putting her name on the file card, she had posted her appointment with Todd for one of the private meeting rooms off the main lobby of the girl’s dorm.
As he entered the room, Barbara stood up, smiled, and held out her hand. He looked surprised.
“Surprise, surprise!” she said, “but have no fear, Todd. I guarantee you will get an A in the course.”
“Well, this is nice, Barbara. I didn’t know you were in this course.”
“I’m not. I took it last year. Got a B. There, full disclosure accomplished.”
“Except for why you bother to waste your time tutoring dumb jocks.”
“I do it for the good of the University, of course. Mustn’t let our star quarterback flunk out!” She smiled at him from under her eyelashes. “Besides, I don’t waste my time. You’re my only pupil.”
“Well, then, let’s get to it. I’m due at the bar in a couple of hours.”
They sat at a bridge table and he showed her where he was in the readings.
For the first half hour they were uninterrupted. Then two girls came and sat together gossiping on the sofa.
For Todd’s next session, they agreed to meet elsewhere.
Gloria Frye nodded grudgingly. “Well, I know you get to keep meeting with him. But you have to waste all that time teaching him that bullcrap.”
“I can stand it. By the way, he’s no dummy. He just doesn’t have enough time to keep up with all the reading.”
Halfway up the mountain, Todd Ritchie turned his car off the main road and onto the paved overlook. Barbara got out of the car and sat on the stone wall. He joined her.
“Now don’t fall,” he warned. “Want a sandwich?” He had packed a picnic. They were both dressed in jeans and windbreakers.
She slipped her hand under his arm. “Oh, it’s so beautiful, Todd.” What was beautiful was the steely muscle of his arm. “What a view!”
Indeed, they could see for miles across the valley to the University campus. Beneath their feet, the mountain fell sharply away, so they were able to see over the tops of the tall fir trees below them. A hawk circled up on a thermal.
“Yeah,” he shrugged, “I come here a lot. The skiing is good in the winter, too.”
She inhaled the fresh air deeply. “It seems a shame to waste an hour here on an English lesson.”
“Well, would you rather take a walk?”
“Yes!” She swung her legs quickly over the parapet and ran to the road. Beyond the road, there was an upward sloping meadow. She called back to him. “I’ll race you up the hill!”
He ran after her. For ten minutes she set a rapid pace upward through the tall grass, and he did not attempt to overtake her but simply followed where she led. A passage through a rock outcrop led upward to another smaller patch of grass that was secluded from below. In this hidden spot she flopped down, panting but grinning at Todd as he joined her. He was far from being winded. He sat beside her and she leaned against him.
“My god,” she gulped, “you are in fantastic condition.”
“It’s the running, it’s what I do best.”
“I doubt it!”
Sitting cross-legged she pulled her windbreaker and the sweater under it off over her head. She was suddenly bare to the waist except for her brassiere. She was still breathing heavily, and her breasts stretched the pink silk fabric as she lay back on the garments she had stripped off. She extended her leg nearest to Todd and cocked the other at the knee. She put her arms over her head.
“God," she said, "the sun is hot, even up here.”
Todd smiled at her and lay on his back beside her, his hands under his head. “Yeah, you can get a sunburn even when you’re skiing.”
She propped herself up sideways on one elbow and gazed down at his blond hair and blue eyes. Her own honey-colored locks hung down beside her cheeks and brushed her shoulders.
“Do you ski a lot, Todd?” she murmured.
“Well, I used to. Of course, it’s hard to get any skiing done during football season. But next to football, I guess it’s what I enjoy most.” He smiled, musing. “You know, it’s great to have some buddy to go with you for the day, so you have a friend to talk to while you’re standing in line at the lift, and also while you’re riding up. Then, on the way down, you can race.”
“And at the end of the day, you can share a drink in front of the fireplace at the lodge, and dance.”
“Well, yeah, but you know I don’t dance.”
“Ah, yes, that’s the other thing I have to tutor you in.”
He sat up, resting his forearms on his knees. She lay back again on her windbreaker.
“Todd, do you like me? Would you take me skiing some time? If I teach you to dance, would you show me how to ski?”
“Why of course I would, Barbara.” He ignored the first question. “You’d be good to have on a ski trip. And if you can play the guitar and sing, you’ll be a hit at the lodge.”
He stood up and held out his hand to help her up. “Time to get to the bar,” he said.
She pulled on her sweater and windbreaker, then accepted his hand.
They climbed back down the hill. As he put the car in gear and backed up onto the road, he smiled at her. “Didn’t get much English done, did we?”
Barbara McKenzie paced up and down in the small dorm room she shared with Gloria Frye.
“I simply cannot understand it. I practically stripped for him, and he treats me like I was his sister.”
Gloria Frye shrugged. “Maybe you’re just not his type.”
“We’ll see about that…I’m not giving up!”
Todd Ritchie sat on the edge of the hard mattress on Barbara McKenzie’s bed. Gloria was conveniently absent from their dorm room. Only the lamp on the stand by the bed was turned on.
Barbara had coolly explained to him that nine o’clock in the evening, at her dorm room, was the best time and place for his next tutoring session because silence was enforced in the dorm, Gloria would be away, and.…Well, she had given persuasive reasons, and he had smiled, shrugged, and agreed to meet her there.
She had let him in, shut the door, motioned him to sit on the bed, and promised to return in a minute. Now he waited patiently, turning the pages of his book to find the assignment while in the next room, Barbara quickly stripped off her dress and underwear, scuffed off her loafers and socks, and pulled on her lace panties and teddy. She brushed her hair.
When she stood for a moment in the doorway, Todd sat up very straight and looked at her with wide eyes.
She walked to him, stood between his open knees, raised his hands to her waist, and placed her own hands on his shoulders. “Todd,” she said firmly, “…it’s time to dance.” Closing her eyes, she bent her head to his, and sought his lips with hers.
“Wait, Barbara! Please.”
He turned his head away, and her intended kiss missed the mark.
She straightened, frowned, but did not release his shoulders. His hands rested on her hips.
“What’s the matter, Todd? Don’t you like me?”
“Oh, god, yes, Barbara. But we’re friends. I want you for a friend. I can’t be your boyfriend.”
“Why not?…There’s someone else, isn’t there?”
He nodded. Haltingly, he explained.
Barbara McKenzie’s face was flushed. She sat rigidly upright on the edge of her bed. “I have never been so humiliated in my life. It is unbelievable.”
Gloria Frye was sympathetic, but she laughed anyway.
“Well, that exception wasn’t in the rules, so you lose the bet. He didn’t invite you to the prom.”
Todd Ritchie lay on his dormitory bed with his hands behind his head. Morgan Freishutz, the football team’s leading tackler, turned the lock on the door and returned to stand beside the bed. Unslipping his belt buckle, he gazed down at Todd’s nude body.
“You are so beautiful, buddy.”
“I like you, too.”
Morgan Freishutz lay down beside his friend.
Finis
The Twenty-Fifth Tale
The Cop
Beverly Thrasher blotted her lipstick, tossed the tissue in the waste basket under the dressing table, stood up and smoothed the skirt of her black cocktail dress. She inspected her hair in the mirror, using her fingers to adjust the way the dark brunette strands curled back to show her ears. She went to the dresser, clipped a strand of pearls around her neck, and added matching earrings. Then she loaded her black satin evening bag with the essentials of her trade…lipstick, rouge, tissues, recorder, a small can of mace, and her police badge. She dropped in her hotel key and snapped the bag.
The telephone rang. She was expecting a call from the desk of the hotel. Instead, she heard her mother’s plaintive query.
“Beverly, is that you? What are you doing at the Sheraton Hotel?”
“Oh, Mother! What a surprise. How nice to hear your voice.”
“Well, likewise, Beverly…I’ve been worried about you. You didn’t call us last Sunday.”
Beverly grimaced. “I’m sorry, Mom. I’ve suddenly gotten very busy.”
“Are you enjoying your new job with the Police Department? What are you doing?”
“Well, I can’t really tell you. It’s confidential, and very specialized.” She smiled to herself. “It’s under cover, so to speak. But I love it. It’s exciting.”
“Oh, Beverly, dear, you’re not doing anything dangerous, like spying on drug dealers, are you? I don’t want you taking risks!” Her mother’s concern was palpable, even over the telephone at a distance of one hundred miles.
“Now, Mother,” the daughter sighed, “we’ve talked about all that. And, no…it’s not particularly dangerous.”
But it was exciting. And that was important to Beverly. Until the day she had discovered her vocation in urban police work, her entire life had seemed a crushing bore. At her small high school, which served a placid farming community, Beverly excelled in her studies, was a cheerleader, had the lead in the school play. But her life seemed conventional and flat, and she longed to escape to the sophisticated outside world.
Finally, at the state university, she found her path to the challenge and novelty she craved. She majored in criminology—and she matured—so upon graduation she was promptly hired by the vice squad of the police department in her state’s principal metropolis. The big city was a colorful teeming stew of immigrants, slum lords, owners of small sweatshops and ethnic eateries, attorneys, politicians, developers, actors and other artists, traveling salesmen, convention visitors and other tourists, criminals, cops, and judges. It was thrilling!
Of course, her mother did not approve. Now, as Beverly stood in the hotel room and tapped her toe, her mother reverted to her old theme.
“Beverly, I just don’t understand why you won’t come back here and find something dignified to do that suits your background.”
“And get married and have babies.”
“Well, of course, Beverly. Why not?”
“Oh, Mom, that’s what I want, too…some day. But right now I just want to see the world and have some fun.”
“You sound worse than your brother!”
Porter Thrasher, two years younger than Beverly, had dropped out of high school and joined the Navy.
“Mom, if Porter can go to Japan, I don’t see what’s so dreadful about my traveling a few miles down the road to the big city. It’s women’s lib, Mom.”
“Well, as usual, I’m wasting my breath. In any case, Beverly dear, whatever it is that you’re up to, please do be careful.”
“I will, Mom. It’s all very well organized, believe me.”
They talked then of other things, exchanged endearments, and said their goodbyes.
The expected call from the hotel desk came through. Beverly acknowledged crisply and cradled the receiver. She took one last look at her makeup and clothing, tucked the purse under her arm, walked from her hotel room to the elevator, and pushed the button.
The tall mirror beside the elevator door reflected the face and figure of a stunningly beautiful young woman.
Beverly stood in the entry to the bar and surveyed the scene. Most of the stools at the bar were already occupied, but many of the tables in the dimly lit lounge were not. Beverly chose a small booth on the other side of the room. She sauntered through the lounge to the booth. Several men at the bar turned and looked at her, but she kept her eyes on her destination. She sat down by herself and placed her purse in her lap.
A waiter appeared and took her order for a ginger ale. He winked at her.
“Hey, beautiful. On the prowl again?”
She looked at him coolly and raised an eyebrow. “Johnny, be a dear and bring me some slim filter cigarettes and matches, will you?”
Returning, the waiter gave her the cigarettes, then put a paper napkin and glass with ice and straws before her. With a flourish, he poured her drink into the glass.
She ignored him and lit a cigarette. She drew in a mouthful of smoke without inhaling and slowly blew a smoke ring. She held the cigarette for a while, then laid it carefully on the edge of the cut glass ashtray. She held the straws with her fingers, applied her lips, and sipped her drink. Occasionally she looked around the room, but she did not look at any of the men sitting at the bar. She toyed with her pearl necklace.
Of the men at the bar, one looked at her occasionally. He also watched the clock behind the bar. Twenty minutes passed. Beverly sipped her drink.
Finally the man picked up his drink and walked to Beverly’s table. He smiled down at her. “Are you waiting for someone?”
She shrugged. “I’m waiting for another drink.”
“Do you mind if I join you?”
“That’s entirely up to you.” Her look neither invited him to stay nor go away. She seemed to be sizing him up.
“I’ll buy you that drink…if you’ll talk to me.”
“You don’t have to buy me drinks. A little talk would suit me fine.”
He took that as acquiescence, and he sat down. He looked around for the waiter, who quickly appeared out of the shadows.
“I’ll have another Cutty on the rocks. Bring the lady another of whatever she would like.”
Beverly nodded. “The same as before.”
The man moved closer to her on the padded bench.
“Are you at the manufacturers’ convention, too? I haven’t seen you before.”
“No, I’m just a local working girl. What do you do?”
“I’m a sales rep…tools and dies. Keeps me on the road, but it’s a living.”
“Are you married?”
“I won’t tell, if you won’t.”
She smiled. “Sorry, I guess I shouldn’t be nosey. What’s your name?”
“Harvey.”
“Well, Harvey, my name is Beverly. Beverly Thrasher.”
He laughed. “You’re the first one who ever gave me a last name.”
“First what?” She raised her eyebrows.
“Why, you know. Or maybe you don’t follow these conventions around like the other girls do.”
She smiled. “Just what did you have in mind, Harvey?”
“Well, you know, a little conversation, a few drinks, and maybe we go up to my room and get better acquainted.”
“That sounds harmless enough.”
“And then maybe you’ll be very nice to me.”
“Meaning?”
“Meaning whatever turns you on, baby! Doggy style, sixty-nine, backside…I love ‘em all.”
He was a brawny man, with a shock of dark hair that curled around the back of his collar. Beverly decided he was used to being admired by the women in his life.
“I don’t sleep with just anybody, Harvey.”
“What are you? One of those high-priced call girls with a little black book of regulars only?”
“Not at all.”
“So…name your price.”
She raised her eyebrows. “I don’t know if you could afford me.”
“I’ll give you one hundred dollars.”
She laughed without answering and sipped her drink.
“All right," he said, "make it five hundred.”
“Do you actually have that much cash with you?”
He pulled his wallet from his jacket, riffled the bills so she could see them, then began to pull them out.
“Not here.” She put her hand over his. “Let’s go up to my room.”
He stood up quickly, put a twenty dollar bill on the table, and stepped back so that Beverly could slide out of the booth. She led him out of the lounge to the elevator.
She unlocked her room and the man followed her in. She closed the door.
“Take off your jacket, Harvey. Would you like a drink? Please help yourself.” She motioned to the bar. “I’ll be right back.”
She disappeared into the bedroom. She put her purse on the dresser and stripped off the black cocktail dress. She put her arms behind her back and unhooked the lace brassiere while she kicked off her high heels. She pulled the pantyhose down to her thighs, then sat on a chair and pulled them from her calves and feet. She hastily gathered up all these garments and tossed them into the closet, from which she retrieved a pair of purple mules with puffs on the toes and a purple teddy that she pulled on over her dark hair. Panties were definitely not a part of this uniform. She picked up her purse and sauntered back into the living room.
The man turned away from the bar. His mouth fell open as he watched her come to him across the carpet. He put down his drink and opened his arms to her.
She slipped by him and went behind the bar.
“Money first, Harvey.”
He took the bills from his wallet and offered them to her. She shook her head. Her hands were busy opening her purse.
“Just put the money in the jar, Harvey.” She pointed to a small painted metal jug that sat on the bar.
He dropped the five crisp bills into the jug at the same moment she removed a tiny tape from the recording device in her pocketbook. She dropped the tape, into the jug. The bills and the tape fell through the open bottom of the jug into a metal safe the police department had installed under the bar.
He heard the plop of his money and the tape inside the safe, and he stepped back a pace with a puzzled look on his face.
She smiled. “Safety first. The boss doesn’t give refunds.”
“The boss?”
“Detective Sergeant Homer Zysmanski.”
“What?”
She had palmed her police badge. His eyes widened as she held it up.
“I’m really sorry, Harvey, but I have to tell you I’m arresting you for solicitation of prostitution.”
This was the part she always worried about. She held the canister of mace in her other hand behind her back. She knew exactly where the alarm button was located under the counter of the bar. The bar itself was a barrier that prevented any sudden violence.
“Son of a bitch!” he shouted. “You have got to be kidding!”
“It’s no joke, Harvey. Solicitation of prostitution is a misdemeanor violation of the State Code, Article l0, Section 46. Shall I read your rights? Or do you just want to surrender quietly.”
“Why, this is nothing but entrapment! You suckered me into this!”
“As I recall, I was minding my own business, and you made the most indecent proposition to me, for money.”
She smiled at him sympathetically, lifted her ticket book from a drawer, and began preparing a summons. “Anyway, it’s all on the tape…and I haven’t lost a case yet.”
“Son of a bitch! I could wring your neck! You don’t look like any police officer to me!”
“Officer Beverly Thrasher, badge number 3614, L.N.P.D. And please watch your language, Harvey. I don’t want to book you for resisting arrest.” She put crosses in several boxes on the form and wrote out a receipt for $500. “Do you have any I.D.?”
“Jesus-H-Christ!” He fished his driver’s license from his wallet, tossed it on the bar, then sat down heavily on the sofa and put his hands to his forehead.
She looked up from her ticket book and smiled. “Lighten up, Harvey. It’s all over. You’ve even paid your fine already.” She pointed her pen at the jug.
“Oh, great.”
She completed the summons form, snapped it apart, and dropped two copies in the jug. Then she took his glass from the bar, added ice, and refilled it with scotch.
She came out from behind the bar with the glass in one hand and his license and copy of the summons in the other.
He watched her as she came to him. She reminded him of a lingerie model on a runway, with her long legs flashing, the purple teddy brushing the tops of her bare thighs, her neat breasts pressing against the silky material, and her chin held down as she looked at him from under her long eyelashes.
She smiled. “Now comes the good part.”
He was still frowning but accepted the drink from her. She folded the summons around his license and tucked them into the breast pocket of his shirt and patted it.
“You paid for me, Harvey. Now you can have me.”
Facing him, she straddled his thighs and sat on his lap. She loosened his tie and freed his collar button.
“My god!” he said, “you really are a whore.”
“No, the City gets your money, not me.” She drew her fingers lightly down his cheek. “I just do this part for fun.”
She smiled, but pressed her finger into his chest. “And don’t forget: You’re under arrest. You can’t go until I release you…and you were ready to spend that five hundred dollars on me anyway, right?”
He laughed with her finally. He relaxed against the back of the sofa and took a long drink.
She took the glass from him and set it on the side table. She lifted both of his big hands onto her hips, then put her own hands on his shoulders.