Tuesday, July 06, 2004

Steve's first two-and-a-half-some, part I

I've been looking forward to Independence Day for quite some time.

Each year, my college friend, Rob, hosts a July 4th party at his cabin on the beach for all the guys and their girlfriends. The crowds have gotten smaller and smaller as the guys have married off; only 5 were expected this year.

I had been hoping all along that I could bring Lila; I figured that she could tell her mother that she was going to visit her dad for a couple of days. Her parents are barely on speaking terms, so her mother probably would not call her father to verify the story. And the cottage is over an hour away, so there is no chance anyone from my "work life" would see me and Lila together.

But, alas, Lila is in lockdown, and her mother would not be amenable to any trips, even to her dad's house. So, time for Plan B!

Kelly (the "new and improved Kelly") was thrilled to go. So I picked her up at around 7:30.

I took one look at her and my stomach dropped, as if I had just gone over an unexpected dip.

Her hair was in a ponytail. She was wearing a white halter top, with the big ties in the front, like Mary Ann from Gilligan's Island. She had faded blue denim shorts, and those open-back sneakers that I love. And her sunglasses hung in between the cups of a pink bikini top. She just looked really fun and sexy. And ready for the beach.

She hops into the car, and immediately, off come her shoes. She puts her feet on the dash. Pink toenail polish. The scrunchie in her hair is pink, too. What is it with this girl and pink? I bet her favorite Aerosmith song is........."Walk This Way". He he he...

"I'm SO looking forward to this," Kelly says. "What a week I had!"

We talk all the way there. Kelly grew up not far from the beach and she really loves the water. I love it, too: It really relaxes me.

We arrive at the cottage. Rob is outside waiting for us.

"Stevie Wonderrrrrr!!" he shouts. His nickname for me.

Rob is just as bad with the girls as I am. And he's been doing it longer. I've known him ever since my sophomore year in college, and I don't think I've ever seen him with the same girl twice.

And Rob's a bragger, too. He's always got some crazy story about how he banged this one while her sister watched, or how that one snorted coke off his dick. Half his stories sound like bullshit, but every once in a while I speak to a girl who's been with him, and he seems to be on the level. Normally, I just dismiss guys who tell stories like that as liars. Real players keep their stories to themselves (or publish them anonymously in blogs, he-he).

He's a good-looking guy, as guys go: six feet tall, about 180, tan, muscular, dark hair. Rob's always been in good shape, unlike me.

Back at school, Rob used to try to help me with the girls. He'd walk up to me at a party, throw his arm around my neck, and say, "Stevie Wonder, THAT chick over there is gonna fuck you tonight!"

So I'd turn around, and there'd be some girl with an ass the size of two kegs, or some hideously ugly chick.

"No fucking thanks," I'd say.

"Better than whacking," I'd hear, as I walked away. Not sure about that.

I ALWAYS pursued the hottest girls. I got humiliated a lot, but that provided a lot of motivation for me to better myself. NEVER did I settle for nasty chicks, just to get laid.

So Rob rushes up to the car and practically tackles me as I get out. "You made it, buddy!!"

Kelly gets out.

Rob drops me like a hot potato and walks slowly over to her. "And who! is! this!" he says, staring at her.

"Rob, this is Kelly; Kelly, this is Rob," I say.

"Nice to meet you, Rob," she says.

"Wow, Steve. WOW!" Rob says. "She's even hotter than the one you had last week!"

What an asshole.

"That's funny Rob. But since you've been telling that joke since 1995, you might want to work on some new material."

Notice, I don't get all flustered and panicky, trying to make sure everyone knows it was just a joke. That just makes you look guilty.

A girl walks out the front door and stops next to Rob. "This is my girlfriend, Taylor," Rob says.

Taylor is hot. She's tall, about 5'10", short auburn hair (think Bridget Fonda), and really skinny. My guess is that she's no more than an A cup. But she has really nice legs, like a figure skater.

"Let me help you take your stuff to your room," Rob says. "Then you gotta come outside. The bonfire's already started!"

"We actually get a room this time," I say.

"Crowd's not as big as it used to be, Stevie," Rob says.

The bonfire is amazing. It's a giant metal can filled with wood, cardboard, and just about anything else the guys could get their hands on. Flames lick 15-20 feet up into the clear black sky.

All five guys are here now, three of us with girlfriends (Rob, me, and our friend Jim), and we're all sitting around the bonfire.

I am sitting on a log, with my legs spread apart, and Kelly is sitting in between them, holding my right hand over her chest. The fire is crackling and popping. I can smell the sea air as it blows in briskly from the ocean. It smells nice mixing with the flowery scent of Kelly's hair. She leans back to me, as if to say something. I lean over.

"I'm having a really good time. Thank you for inviting me," she says, rubbing my hand.

Yeah, no problem. Being second choice is not so bad, is it?

Rob is "holding court", telling college stories, and everyone is laughing. I still owe him for sticking me out before.

"Hey Rob," I say. "Tell 'em about that time the cop caught you with your dick in your hand!"

Everyone laughs. Rob freezes.

That's right, asshole. You fuck with the best, you die like the rest.

"We were at this party," I begin. "And Rob was hitting on this girl all night, and she wanted NOTHING to do with him. It might have been because she was his sister, but I'm not positive...."

Raucous, drunken laughter.

"..and after hitting on her for hours, Rob needs to take a piss, but there's ten people in line for the bathroom. So he heads outside, and finds a secluded spot near the parking lot. And he whips it out, and starts pissing. And pissing, and pissing, and pissing....."

More laughter.

"And, all of a sudden, he hears this redneck voice: 'HEY! YEW! WITH YER DICK IN YER HAND! GET OVER HERE RAGHT NOW!!!' So Rob turns around, and it's a STATE COP!"

Everyone is cracking up now (I'm sure it would have been less funny sober).

"Meanwhile, the girl is just overjoyed that Rob finally left her alone for 10 seconds, so she's making a beeline to get the hell outta there. So she runs up to her car, which, coincidentally, is parked RIGHT NEXT TO WHERE ROB IS PISSING!!"

They are howling now. They have a sense that a payoff is coming. Rob is chuckling a little, but he's embarrassed as hell.

"Rob sees the girl, and the cop, and starts rushing to tuck his junk back into his pants. And the girl is screaming, 'YOU FUCKING PERVERT! YOU WERE JERKING OFF ON MY CAR!!'"

"OH FUCKING SHIT!!!!" Jim says, convulsing with laughter and spitting beer everywhere. Kelly is doubled over, laughing.

"So the cop goes ballistic," I continue, "and throws Rob into the back of his car. And it takes Rob an hour to talk his way out of it. So, everyone, what is the moral of the story?" I ask.

People start shouting answers.

"Get in the bathroom line before you have to go?" someone says.

"Don't hit on your sister?"

"Whack off in private?"

"Only piss in the woods?"

"NO!" I say. "If there's a chance you're gonna strike out, wear Depends!"

Everyone laughs and cheers.

"You know, I've never heard that story before," Taylor says, looking at Rob.

"I don't tell it every year," I say. "Only when the time is right."

...to be continued...