Markwildyr.com, Post #204
Only one comment out there since the last post, and readership keeps on plunging. I’d like to think it’s my clumsiness with key words and lack of Google support and an absolute misunderstanding of follow.it, but it could well be my stories are stale. Nonetheless, I’ll go ahead and finish this one.
NOTHING
BUT THE BEST
Armed with my new-found
revelation about myself, I figured I needed a plan to see if I’d identified my
problem or if I was just whistlin’ Dixie. And what it came down to in my mind
was comparisons. So I used that to figure out my plan of action.
The first thing to do was test
my reasoning about girls. As I’ve already indicated, I’ve made it with a couple
of them, and they’d let me know that I was welcome again… although the fact I
hadn’t taken either of them up on it for six months or so might mitigate that
ready availability.
Bessy Sue was my selection
because she liked to titillate the guys and then—except for one or two of
them—pull back when the crucial time came. She’d done that to me, backing away
and then capitulating. To be honest, that was probably what landed me. Got me
curious.
I caught her coming out of
English class and fell into step beside her.
“Hi, what’s cooking,” was my
brilliant opening gambit.
“Well, hello, handsome.
Haven’t seen much of you lately.”
Aha! There was my opening.
“Certainly not as much as you saw a couple of months back.”
She turned and x-rayed me from
head to foot. “A couple of months? More like six.”
I’m sure I blushed. “Well,
things got busy, you know. Tennis season and all.”
She smirked. “You afraid I’ll
sap your strength?” Bessy Sue stopped on a dime, making me come back to her.
“Maybe that’s what I oughta do and then go bet on the other guy.”
“Any time, kiddo,” I said…
getting in deeper than I’d intended. But so far, our talk wasn’t producing any
results.
“I’m free tonight,” she said.
“But only if you take me to dinner… and I don’t mean at MacDonald’s.”
“How about Hatfield’s,” I
said, naming a semi-ritzy joint not far from campus.
“Pick me up at six. You do remember
my dorm, don’t you?”
She was being sarcastic, but
the truth was, I didn’t remember. Nonetheless, I could find out easy enough.
“Like it was yesterday,” I crooned in her ear. Pretty suave, even if I do say
so myself.
The steak and lobster dinner
at Hatfield’s was delicious, the time afterward with Bessy Sue, simply an
endurance match. I went back to my place still trying to catch my breath. Good
thing I didn’t have a match tomorrow, or she’d have bet against me for sure.
****
A freshman by the name of
Birchfield was the next step in my social experiment. No kidding, his name was
Birchfield—Birchfield Hastings—but everyone called him Birch. I’d heard vague
rumors about him. Rumors weren’t quite right. Just suspicions. The way he went
up at the end of a sentence when it wasn’t called for. Or his gestures. Not a
limp wrist, but something close. Anyhow, he played tennis, as well, and was a
fair hand at it. After a game one day, he’d tried to get friendly, but I had
other things on my mind at the time and kinda brushed it off. Come to think of
it, that was right around the time I was getting it on with Bessy Sue. Damn,
time flies when you’re not paying attention.
Actually, I ran into Nothin’
before I saw Birch. We saw one another at the library and did some studying
together before heading for the Student Union Building for a burger and fries.
He was so damned handsome and… and fetching sitting opposite me talking
and eating that I about trashed my program and broached the subject right then.
I knew for fact he’d gotten a dozen girls on campus, but he looked so fucking
innocent it about tore my heart out thinking things like I was thinking about
him,
But I’m nothing if not deliberate and disciplined,
so I curtailed my urge to make a move. Nonetheless, I sure had fun sitting
there reminiscing about our time as next-door neighbors, me getting hard as a
rock. It was okay because the table was sheltering me at the time.
****
Two days later, Birch was
batting the ball against a practice wall when I arrived at the courts. He
accepted my challenge, and we squared off for a game of singles. His game had
improved since the last time we’d played, and I had a little trouble putting him
away, but I managed.
He handled my complements on
his play in his usual “aw, shucks” manner. To keep something going, I gave him
a few pointers on what I perceived to be weaknesses. We even went back to the practice
wall with me standing behind him and correcting his backhand swing.
Occasionally my groin brushed his butt. Was that too subtle? Nope. I saw from
the glances he darted at me he’d noticed. Thereafter, he’d sorta thrust his
butt out so the contact was a little firmer.
When a couple of others showed
up to practice, I looked him squarely in his blue eyes and asked a one-word
question.
“Where?”
He didn’t even blink. “My
room. My roommate’s gone for the weekend.”
It was that easy. I barely got
the door closed behind us before he turned and walked into me. I hadn’t known
that guys kissed, but I guess they do. At any rate, we did. And that
wasn’t all we did. I can’t say the world moved, but the bed… and I think his room…
certainly did. That bed squeaked and squalled and beat up against the wall,
lending buoyancy to our gymnastics.
When I staggered back to my
dorm later, I had no trouble giving this experience a better mark than my bout
with Bessy Sue. Way better! The problem was going to be to convince Birch it
was a one-time thing. Well, provided it turned out that way, that is.
I was prepared to measure
things now, but landing Nothin’ wasn’t going to be as easy as simply crooking
my finger. My two yardsticks thus far and been willing… no, eager participants.
Yancy Charles Yates might have to be convinced. And I had no idea how to do
that.
* * * *
So far Willie’s
(maybe I should say William's since he hates that nickname) accomplished part one
and part two of his plan, but the harder one is yet to come. How will Nothin’
react to an approach? Can Willie figure out an approach? If so, will he have
the nerve to go through with it? We’ll see next time.
Website and blog: markwildyr.com
Email:
markwildyr@aol.com
Facebook: www.facebook.com/mark.wildyr
Twitter: @markwildyr
Now my
mantra: Keep on reading. Keep on writing.
You have something to say, so say it!
See you later.
Mark
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