Bits
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by: Spider
The following tale is based on my life... only fictionalized. It follows
the course my life set, but not all the details. The names have been
changed, but not the places, unless there was a need. I left my name
out, but have used a pseudonym that most can recognize- “Way” Actually
when I was little, some kids called me that. It was made from my middle
name (Wayne) and from the fact that when it came to getting us all in
trouble, I found a “way”. Anyway, “Way” is me. The rest of the
participants whether real or imaginary or conglomerations have names I
assigned them and personalities to fit. Only one is as she was. I
strained a brain cell to keep her as exact as I could. You’ll probably
guess who she was after you read this. (Clue #1: The book is named after
her) If you do figure out who she was, say a prayer for her and if you
can...one for me.
This is not meant as a
confessional to clear my “guilty soul”. It is a story of a person who
lived through those times. I felt no guilt and feel no guilt, although
there are those who will feel I should. It was a life, mine, and for the
most part of what is
written, I led it. That was and is my justification for everything. For
those of you who were too young to experience the times, it may open
your eyes to a history you weren’t taught in school, much as we of my
age were taught little of the world and history was a dry listing of
wars. For those who did live through it... You probably already know the
Underground part of the story. You will find no apologies, no mea culpa
or any soul cleansings. In its essence, this is as much as I can
remember plus the details filled into make it entertaining. Oh yeah a
part is all imagination, but I won’t say which. You would be amazed if I
told you, but I won’t. Author’s privilege.
We were the generation that went to fight a pointless war that was
doomed to bring defeat. By the mid-Sixties, it had become obvious to the
younger generation that ‘Nam was bullshit. We were fighting and dying in
a country just past the Stone Age, for political ideals that the
politicians couldn’t articulate because they did not understand the
causes. We wound up being cannon fodder for the toughest guerrillas in
the world to practice on. They had beaten the French and drove them out
much as they had fought the Empire of Japan in the early part of the
last century.
I never understood why we had to stick our noses in there. It wasn’t as
if Vietnam was a nuclear power or gave access to vital holdings of ours
(oil, minerals, or other valuables to be looted) or placed the continent
in danger of imminent attack. No, we were fat, dumb and happy until the
draft notices started creating losses in our young population. We had
just discovered rock ’n roll, marijuana, Free Love, sex (not the same
thing), acid and alternative life styles.
We had discovered our parents’ generation had lied to us about so
many things. Marijuana wouldn’t turn us into crazed rapists wallowing in
suicidal frenzies. That their idea of what made life good wasn’t what we
really wanted, became more and more apparent as time passed. The
Revolution was not only from the life-styles, the politics and our
upbringing, but from the system of values that said a woman was chattel
property and had few rights. We weren’t perfect at it, but we did try...
which is more than previous generations did. It was a time of great
change and a rebirth of Freedom for all. It was a first tentative step.
Goodness, I didn’t mean to preach at you. I still tend to get wound up a
bit and frankly wish those times were back. You poor kids of today,
those times were so much better than anything you can imagine of today
and I feel so sorry for you and what lies ahead.
The Underground will live again
in the story I tell here. Some of the most interesting parts are where
straight life impinges on the Hippie/Underground lifestyle. It wasn’t
always easy sailing. A Revolution of free people had not happened in a
long time and it was an attempt to do it peacefully. If there is any
Philosophy it will have to be found by you, the reader. I get headaches
when I try to find reasons for the successes and failures of us in those
times.
Most of all I want to tell a story of relationships that become
obsessions and what comes of them. Trust broken becoming less desirable
emotions. And growth. Facing reality and growing. Avoiding life and
sinking into love becoming an obsession that borders on suicidal
depression. Becoming the person I needed to be. Am. Not what I was.
Learning what life is about... Hopefully before it’s over.
Although the story is being told by “me”, the main component doesn’t
enter it right at the first. Be patient. She comes in further into the
story. The first part is so you can see where I was in my mind, my
community and with my friends. Great changes took place in that Society
that still echo over the decades and influence my life even now.
My story begins back in the 40’s, but don’t worry, it won’t be there for
long. It wasn’t that interesting... to me! It will cover a very
important incident or three. If there is an answer, I’ll give it. If you
find one...please tell me! I find I have a lot of questions about my
life and the hand that has been dealt me. A lot of questions! Hopefully
in the end there will be answers or at least a little peace. Now it
begins...
1- STARTING SOMEWHERE
by: Spider
I don’t know when I became a hippie or why, but everyone seemed to
reassure me that I was. I didn’t start out to be anything. I was too
dumb.
I was raised mostly on a farm by a pair of adoptive parents. They never
made a big deal of it, but my adopted father made it apparent later that
I wasn’t particularly wanted. My adopted mother is the one who wanted me
and after they had tried to have children without much luck, I guess
adopting looked pretty good to them. That is where I entered the
picture. I was a baby and didn’t have much to say about where I went.
They never talked about my blood mother except to say she was redheaded
and sixteen. Coming from the country, she was probably a real moral
example and an ideal barfly by the time she entered high school, if she
did. I only suppose that as I never met her or even knew her name.
Father? I doubt if my birth mother even knew for sure. What’s more, I
don’t care. I think not knowing the full story of one’s parental
shortcomings lets one create his own ideal or avoid having one and I
did... in spades.
My adopted Dad was a farmer, through and through. He had been an
electrical engineer and done pretty well in the scheme of things having
had a good career in Light and Power for several cities and towns. He
wanted to go back to the farm though. When his father (my grandfather)
died he took the chance and moved us back to the little hard scrabble
acres. He worked hard at it and was even what could be called obsessed.
That I wasn’t exactly what he wanted was obvious. I won a medal for
something in Sunday School and he was too busy to come. I joined the
Methodist Church and was the only boy to not have a father there at the
ceremony. I graduated from grade school and- you guessed it. Something
else needed to be done on the fucking farm. The same thing happened when
I made the track team and the basketball team in high school... He never
saw me at a single event even though we went to State one year and
nearly won it all. Never a word, never a glimpse though I stupidly
always looked for him in the crowds. Surely he would be there for my
high school graduation. He surely wasn’t. I guess I got a little bitter
about it.
When I was just barely a teenager, he had dropped me off at a kid’s
house in town since he was going into the burg anyway. It was a Saturday
afternoon party one of the kids was putting on. Mom would pick me up
when it was over, after doing the weekly grocery shopping. I was a
country boy and not familiar with the “sophistication” of the city kids,
especially when the city was under three thousand people. They had
records and were dancing- boys with girls! I stayed as much out of sight
as I could. I couldn’t dance and in fact this was the first time I had
ever even seen dancing outside of icky scenes in the movies.
There were two girls that caught my attention because they were unusual-
they were twins and easily the prettiest girls I had ever seen. They
were not only pretty, they wore makeup. I was enjoying myself just
watching these fairy tale creatures when one of them noticed me watching
her. She walked across the room to me and asked me if I’d like to dance.
Before I could finish stammering out that I couldn’t dance, I found
myself with a beautiful girl instructing me to put my hands on her and
hold her closer. I was so dry-mouthed I couldn’t talk. She said
something about shy boys being her favorites. She was a wonderful armful
and I hoped the song would never end. Her name was Betty Bell and her
sister was Barbara, who I found out was the outgoing one. For some
reason Betty kept getting me to dance. Her reason for picking me to pair
with that afternoon was never cleared up. To this day I wonder at it. It
sure wasn’t my good looks or wealthy background.
Later on the group started playing games. They were very strange games
to me in my naiveté. One popular one was Spin the Bottle. When it was
Betty’s turn she spun it carefully and it was pointed at me. She led me
to the closet selected to be the place where the players could have
privacy. I knew I was to kiss her and didn’t know where to put my hands.
I screwed my eyes tight and aimed where I thought she would be. Yeah I
missed, but she didn’t laugh. She patiently showed me how to hold my
mouth and when her pink tongue entered my mouth I was shocked beyond
anything I had ever experienced. She moved my hand to her breast, but
that may have been an accident. Her bra was nearly armor plate and I
didn’t know what to do with that little treasure, so I just held it like
a fragile egg. Subsequent dates did show me how to handle that portion
of her anatomy, but that was later on in school. I think my kid’s
erection lasted for a week and I was deep in thought about the new world
I had found.
Somehow I made it through high school and with pretty good grades. The
roughest part was when one of the Bell twins wound up pregnant according
to rumor. I had dated both twins and virtually any other girl that would
go out with me. Come to find out there were a lot of boys sweating it
out. Never did find out for sure if it was Barbara or Betty that was
knocked-up or even if they found a husband(s), as I was gone after
graduation to join the Army. Dad was glad to drive me the twenty miles
to the recruiting station and I never understood why until later. I was
just pleased he had come to see me do something and even shook my hand.
Whoopeeee.
The Marines wouldn’t take me as I was too low in weight... Skinny. The
Air Force didn’t interest me as I couldn’t qualify as a pilot. The Coast
Guard and Navy had too much water and stupid white uniforms. That left
the U. S. Army and I took it, just as the ink was drying on my diploma.
I was off to be the next John Wayne... After all my name was Wayne- Way
for short.
I’ve heard all the jokes so save your breath- “No Way, My Way, Way-ward,
Way to Go, and so on until I get ill. Being made fun of because of your
name is a sure fire “Way” to get a guy like me ready to rain on you. I
learned to be pretty good at it too. The Army helped in that respect as
I had the opportunity to study the martial arts... Karate mostly. I
learned to use my agility and light weight to avoid bigger men’s
aggressions and turn their attacks back on them. I tried out the
techniques in bars from Fort Campbell, Kentucky to Stuttgart, Germany to
Saigon, Vietnam before my tour was over. If they’d given ribbons for bar
fights I would’ve had as many as Audi Murphy.
I joined the Army as a skinny, nearly six foot tall, country boy that
was shy. That I had brown hair and eyes wasn’t remarkable. I was
determined to be a “hero” and win all kinds of medals. I was what was
called “gung ho”. I think that means “Dumb son-of-a-bitch”, which in my
case fit like a glove, as I was both.
There was one fight in Saigon I can remember that seemed to be typical.
Me and Bill Lumpkin- Lumpy, were on pass and looking for some action. We
found a couple of whores; actually fairly young girls who were selling
their butts to keep from starving. We wanted to get it on, so we got a
couple of hotel rooms and proceeded to thoroughly use, if not abuse
those little girls. You learn not to care about the “dinks” pretty
quickly in ‘Nam. They return the favor.
After we were satisfied and had paid the girls, we went to the bar in
the hotel to have a drink. On the door into the bar was a sign that said
“Marines Only”. We grinned at each other and pushed through to find that
there were about a half a dozen “Jar-heads” drinking at the bar. We
wandered over to a table and sat down. A nervous little waitress came
for our order, glancing at the growling Marines at the bar. Lumpy and I
had on our Tiger stripe cammos and had only our sidearms on. I stood and
took mine off dropping it on the table with a clatter. Lump did the
same. We were sipping our drinks as Lumpy said...
“It sure seems crowded in here with all these uniforms. Kinda stinks
too.”
I replied, “Hush Lumpy. Those are our brothers in arms. They are the
heroes of this war. Why they can do the impossible.”
“The impossible? How’s that?”
The growling of the Marines had ceased at my praise of them and they
were making crude assertive noises.
They could be such idiots. I continued...
“Yes, the impossible. They can lead a horse to water and make him
drink!”
“Make him drink? How can they do that?”
“Well, it takes three of them to do it. Two of them hold the horse’s
head under water while the third sucks his ass.”
We sat for a few seconds as the Marines puzzled it out and finally
realized they had been insulted. You could almost smell the sawdust in
their heads smoldering from unaccustomed thought. Then yelling they
leapt at me and Lumpy.
It seemed more like there were dozens instead of six. We gave a lot
better than we got and just might have gotten the upper hand if the MP’s
and Shore Patrol hadn’t shown up. I was half dazed and didn’t totally
come out of it until we saw the sun coming up in the grimy little cell
where we had been thrown. We all grinned through the bruises and
introduced ourselves around, as we all had the incarceration in common.
We agreed we didn’t like this cell too much and wanted out. I must say a
couple of them looked much the worst for wear. One big cheerful fellow
had a bruise on his cheek in the shape of a boot heel that I could
remember putting there. We all agreed it had been an enjoyable fight and
a lot of the tension from being in the Bush had been relieved.
I heard a noise and looked at Lumpy. He nodded and made a slashing sign
across his throat- the universal sign of death. I was afraid he was
right. It was First Sergeant Fuller and he was not happy. Heads would
roll. I thought briefly of disguising myself as a Marine and hiding, but
Fuller would smell me out I knew. He was relentless... He was
merciless...
“Well, come on me darlings. Don’t make me come drag your lovely butts
out here... so I can kick them half way to Hanoi, ‘cuz that’s where
you’re goin’ this time and that’s lettin’ you off easy. C’mon me
pretties.”
Lumpy and I must’ve looked pretty whipped, as the Marines were gasping
at the sight of Fuller... A three hundred pounder plus who stood six-six
and had no fat- only ugly on him. He filled the cell door and inspected
both of us for overt damage. Not finding any incapacitating injuries, he
reached in and drug us out much like a hunter dragging his frightened
prey out of the box trap into the daylight. Placing a big hand in the
small of our backs he unceremoniously propelled Lumpy and me into a
stumbling shuffle through the SP lockup and into the morning light.
“Say goodbye to your playmates, sweethearts,” Fuller croaked. “You are
going where they don’t play those silly games. From now on it’s my
rules.”
He meant it too. Lumpy and I were all over the map of Southeast Asia for
the next too many months. We weren’t near a civilized, non-hostile
posting until we became short-timers and had to start processing out of
the country. This was known as clearing Post and had mental, physical
and numerous other exams one was subjected to. Even Fuller couldn’t stop
us from that part of military procedure. The Captain that was in charge
of our unit had never laid eyes on us. As we waited to see him, we could
hear Sergeant Fuller briefing him on us. He said we were two of his best
troopers and were nominated for so many awards and decorations it made
my head swim to hear him calling them off. Looking at Lumpy, it must’ve
had a similar effect on him. We just called it, “staying alive.”
Entering the Captain’s office, we endured the most insipid, uninspired
praise for the next fifteen interminable minutes, being capped off with
a plea for us to re-enlist and stay “in-theatre” for another thirteen
months. We politely declined, insuring that Fuller wouldn’t eat any of
our vital parts for disrespecting the Captain. We were dismissed with a
sigh and “Thanks”. That was to be our full debriefing.
As we stepped into the street, Sgt. Fuller called to us to wait a
moment. He caught up to us and threw a giant arm around our shoulders in
an unaccustomedly comradely gesture. I almost flinched at the contact.
But then again, I wouldn’t dare.
“I want to personally thank you two and buy you a beer if you’ll consent
to share a drink with me?”
In a way it was embarrassing to be walking with this giant’s arm over us
all the way across the compound to the EM Club. It wasn’t that we were
afraid to show affection, but it was so out of character for Fuller.
Still if he wanted to buy the drinks, I wasn’t going to look a gift
horse in the mouth. (Especially if there was a Marine behind him).
We sat down and the Sergeant went to the bar to get us a bottle. When he
came back he had a quart of Jack Daniels and three nurses accompanying
him. It looked like a good old party was about to get under way. The
nurse I was with was not the best looking broad I had ever been with,
but she was the first American girl I’d talked to in nearly a year and
from the way her hand was straying already, it looked like a good
evening was in store for us. The liquor was flowing and the jokes were
getting funnier and that girl was looking sexier all the time.
I woke up the next morning with a pounding head, a dim recollection of
the previous evening and what felt like a mouth full of cotton. I could
see I was in a woman’s quarters and sure enough there was a naked one
next to me. She had cute little boobs and a fairly trim body, but her
face was a mess of smeared makeup. I really didn’t want to hang around
to see what was going to happen next. I had a bad feeling. I slid into
my camouflages and boots. There was no sign of my underwear. I did find
a bottle of JD that had a couple of swallows in it, so I drank it and
fought to keep the liquid fire down. There was no sign of Lumpy or his
broad. The last I remember of Sgt. Fuller was his grinning face in front
of me as he shoved a paper at me to sign. I think Lumpkin started
barfing and everybody was dodging and getting it cleaned up. I don’t
remember signing that paper like Fuller wanted me to do. I had an
inkling of what it was. I heard voices out front of the tent and decided
to find another exit. The back flap was laced up, but a quick slash of
my boot knife cured that and I double timed across the compound as I
heard some excited yelling behind me. I didn’t look back.
I got to the showers and stripped down. Inside I found a still drunk
Lumpy holding a nearly empty bottle and clutching a soggy piece of
paper. It was a re-enlistment form. It was a copy as I could see by the
carbon copy print on the signature. Lumpy had signed up for another six
years. Damn all Sergeant Fuller’s. My only consolation was that I hadn’t
signed it. Poor Lumpy knew he had screwed up.
The next three days were a constant chaos as Lumpy went to visit the JAG
lawyers, the Chaplin, the Inspector General and all sorts of odd
officers. They scheduled a hearing in a couple of weeks that his
lawyer/officer said he would easily win, but he had to stay until then
and I was headed back to the World in the morning. I was paranoid to
even have a drink and so was he. We went in town and scored a Prince
Albert Tobacco Can full of pre-rolled joints from a teen age street
dealer. It was some fine shit and after doing one, we looked up the dink
again and got as many as we had bread for. I put one can in my pocket
and the other four in my duffel bag. Lumpy had me smoke with him on his
supply so I would not use mine up before I got back to the World. We had
long since exchanged addresses and phone numbers. We sipped some warm
beer as we waited for my chopper to come. It was a sad climax to a very
dangerous time. I was glad to leave, but hated leaving my best friend.
They said that Lumpy would be following me in a few weeks and that he
would be on-post until his appeal or whatever it was got done. I know
the Army and Fuller better than that. If there was a way to screw with
Lumpy, Sgt. Fuller was the man to do it. I was getting away and that had
to infuriate Fuller.
Still I was headed home or at least back to a better place than where
I’d been. Unlike the other guys I had no idealized thoughts of what life
would be like in the States. I halfway planned on going to college, as
that had been touted as being the way to financial freedom. I had to do
the courtesy call at the farm for my adopted mother’s sake and let her
know I was back, but headed for school.
For some strange reason, I was discharged in New York right outside the
city in a place called Fort Hamilton. Nothing really there except for a
bunch of raw ass recruits. I grabbed my papers and fled as soon as I
could. I stopped by to see an old friend in Poughkeepsie. I hadn’t known
that Ned Bockee had bought the farm. His parents wanted to keep me
there. I think they would’ve adopted me. Damn war! I was still losing
friends. I had met Ned in Germany and we had run around terrorizing the
frauleins. Lumpy had transferred in and we three had been chosen for a
Special Assignment to Southeast Asia. Ned had been sent later to a
different outfit. We didn’t get to see each other there except once. He
was in the Delta.
My visit to the farm was gratefully uneventful except for Mom being so
upset at how thin I was. Food seemed to have become a substitute for
what she had missed in life. She had ballooned up a lot. She told me I
should leave and not come back as I might get trapped in that lifestyle
and wind up being a farmer. Things were not good on the old homestead.
I had decided to try the University of Missouri... Mizzou for my
adventure into higher education. I soon found out that was a mistake.
There was nothing I wanted to learn being offered. I did meet a girl
that was attracted to me. As the old saying goes, she had a rack. She
was nearly a virgin and somehow we wound up married and on our way to
California after the first of the year. I still had not shaved or cut my
hair. We lived in LA for a while and then went up to San Francisco to
visit my Great-Aunt. She had been the “black-sheep” of the family, but I
was slated to win that coveted title.
My new wife was knocked up by now and wanted to be with her family to
have the kid. It was ugly and the whole situation was degrading into a
fight-a-day plan, so we packed and drove straight through to St. Louis.
There wasn’t much of interest in SF anyway.
We needed money so I worked at anything I could get. I discovered I was
more than a little bit psychotic. Delayed Stress Syndrome coupled with a
touch of Homicidal Mania. I went to VA and found no help there. Most of
them were worse off than I was and that was the clerks that were
supposed to help the Vets. I finally landed a good job at the Chevrolet
Assembly plant on Union Blvd. in the city proper. My wife’s folks lived
in the county and it was an easy bus ride straight down Natural Bridge
to the plant. The old Ford we had come back in from California had seen
better days.
I still don’t know why, but her folks kicked me out when my wife was
about six or seven months along. She had turned into a stranger and was
going to have me served with divorce papers as soon as she could after
the kid came. I really didn’t mind. I wanted the mistake to be over.
I had a son. He was born healthy and strong. I was happy for awhile and
was working at anything I could to make a buck. I had crippled the old
Ford together and traded it for a six cylinder Chevy. It ran OK, but
arthritic turtles were faster. I somehow found my way to County Speed
Shop and was airbrushing shirts (Painting) in the parking lot for some
extra money. Every Saturday morning, until I had to go to work at Chevy,
I would set up and make an extra hundred bucks if I was lucky. Bear in
mind that $120 bucks a week was an alright salary, so making an extra
c-note was almost like another week’s salary. I wanted a faster car, but
all the money was going to support my now ex-wife and son and a hospital
along with making the Mercedes payments for her doctors and lawyers. It
was getting old.
One Saturday a fellow stopped by and the next thing I knew he was
selling the shirts, sending a kid across the street to the men’s store
to buy the T-shirts I was to paint and writing up a clear order
describing the design with an address. I had more work than I could do
that day. He said that was why he got their address and phone numbers.
When they were done I could mail the shirts, as he had collected a
mailing fee and increased my price to boot. I had way over four times
what I would have made on my own. I wanted to do something to show my
appreciation.
His name was Willie. He was an inch shorter than me, but fifty pounds
heavier. His hair was slightly wavy brown, but his eyes that were merry
and blue. He had the gift of gab. His clothes were impeccable. A Banlon
shirt tucked into a pair of pressed slacks with the pointed toes of a
fine pair of Italian shoes peeking out. He had a mustache and a real
small goatee. I trusted him immediately. I thought he liked me.
“What do you do for a livin’ Willie?”
“Oh, a lot of things. Right now I’m doing lawnmower repair and just
lookin’ for a place to do what I like.”
“What is it you like to do?” I had the feeling I had stepped into a
trap.
“Mmmm... I like to drink, get high and screw girls that run slower than
me.”
“Even the ugly ones?” I always was a smart ass.
“Those are the ones they invented paper bags for. You just cover their
heads and turn out the lights and they all look the same. “Course the
other night I had one that was so bad I had to use two bags.”
“Why’s that Willie?”
“Why in case one bag broke of course.”
With a humor like that Willie and I had to become friends and partners.
We quickly found greener pastures. Willie had done some time in small
carnivals and we were soon doing Fairs and Carnivals from coast to
coast, getting high and in trouble as much as two bachelors could. I
discovered I was senior to Willie by one day. Yes, I was born the day
before he was, which made us even closer. Our tastes in women were a bit
different, as he liked his a bit zoftig or politely full figured. He
said I liked the toothpicks with bumps. Between us we could find
something to please in almost any town. Sometimes the heifers already
had a brand on them, in which case we ran! There are a couple of towns
on the east coast we had best steer clear of for a century or two.
We added items as we went and learned to use iron-on transfers as
adjuncts to handpainting. The airbrush is a slow, temperamental tool and
people love to see it being used. That was the basis for acquiring a
crowd, Willie would tell them an outrageous price for what they wanted
and they would gladly pay. I usually took me eight or more hours to get
to their designs, as I took my time and really crafted each piece. We
always had several days work to be mailed out after the show was done.
Then we learned to screen print our own shirts. A good hand drawn design
could be screen printed on a shirt in black and I could use the airbrush
to color it in. It was less than 10% of the time needed for a
handpainted shirt. We adjusted the prices and hired a couple of guys to
do the color work and were able to go to multiple booths near all the
entrances/exits of the fair grounds and really make some bucks.
I had some extra grass (marijuana) I had picked up and had made some
“lids”, small baggies of high grade pot that we sold to the other
Carnies (carnival workers) as we traveled. Our profit margin was
tremendous. Willie soon had us a sideline of supplying the needs of all
the carnival workers. In one smaller town, we discovered a colony of
isolated druggies. The girls we had found would spend the night with us
and do anything- anything at all if we got them high. Seems they had
lost their supplier. With a Kilo costing a c-note ($100) for pretty good
quality and that breaking up into as many as 40 lids at $10 each, the
400% profit looked good. By the time we did the circuit the second year
we were rolling in cash and needed a place to put it. We bought into a
bar in St. Louis county. We eventually got controlling interest from the
drunk attorney partner who knew nothing about bars. The location was on
St. Charles Rock Road in
North-west St. Louis County, in the midst of a half a dozen other
watering holes. In the close surrounding area there were a good dozen
more bars. To us it was ideal. With a little maneuvering and a few
bottles of good hooch, we got the lawyer down to a third interest while
Willie and I each had the same. We controlled the books, but always made
sure we were fair to the drunk lawyer. That came in handy later. We did
buy him out during the second year.
We worked our asses off in the bar. First we tore out all the crap and
cleaned out all the junk that had accumulated for years of being a
redneck bar. We hauled all the booze out to where we could examine it.
We called on friends in the trades to come in and help in refurbishing
the place. The electrician not only rewired the place, he helped install
the new lighting for the bandstand. We had several levels of lighting
according to what the bands were doing. A complete new sound system and
intercom system was installed. Now announcements could be heard in the
bathrooms as well as on the floor. There were three new pay phones
installed where the bands wouldn’t drown out conversations. The old
dance floor was taken out. A quick call to a nearby dance studio got the
suggestion of good hardwood flooring as a surface to work with. The rest
of the flooring was a sound deadening carpet to kill echos. The walls
were draped for a similar reason.
The men’s room was made over to handle a fairly large crowd, but the
women’s room was decorated to appeal to ladies. Mirrors, no florescent
lights so makeup could be repaired without having to look green or some
other un-natural color. Chairs with soft seat cushions were placed
around. The stalls were attractive and clean without being Industrial.
We had louvered doors to improve the appearance, yet allow privacy.
Sconces and makeup lights illuminated the place.
Willie thought we might have gone too far at some of the changes, but if
I said we should do it, he would shrug and we’d do it. He wanted a
mirrored back bar to emphasize the good liquors and a large beer case at
either end of the bar. I suggested a cooler to pre-chill the beer be
installed in the middle. We set aside the end room for office and
employees locker room. A walk-in refrigerator was scheduled to be put in
beside the office. He grinned and in a day or two we had it in. It would
be easy for the drivers delivering to haul it all in and set it to cool
down and have the coldest beer in the county... or the city... or the
whole damn state! With a commercial roller conveyor line, we could move
the cases out to the bar coolers without a whole lot of handling and a
lot of back saving. Cases are heavy, but in Willie’s case... moving them
was a labor of love.
One day we stopped and looked around. The bar was done. It was what we
had visualized and dreamed of for so long. The people would come in and
get their hands stamped at the door. Right ahead of them was a 50 foot
bar with comfortable stools with backs. To the left were a few tables
and chairs for customers and us owners. Three booths filled in the extra
space. To the right of the door was the edge of the elevated stage and
in front of it was the glistening hardwood dance floor. A low wrought
iron railing surrounded the floor. Giant speaker cabinets on either side
of the stage foretold of the sound potential. The rest of the place was
filled with tables, chairs and booths. Everything was comfortable so the
customers would stay a while. The rest rooms were at the back. The
ceiling was just tall enough to aid in the sound and make it seem more
open. We were pretty proud of it. It had an atmosphere of fun yet was
efficient. Willie and I had yet to pick a name. “The Thirteenth Hour”
had been a suggestion by the girl he was fooling around with (and
subsequently dumped). It sounded good to me.
Kinda fit with the one AM closing time the Blue Laws dictated in
Missouri. Never knew what happened to that girl. I shoulda thanked
her...Oh well.
We were adding the final touches and had just accepted delivery on the
new neon sign, which was being put up, when a huge form filled the door.
We knew this guy from our own running of the Rock Road bars. He went by
the name of Mr. Clean, Cee for short or just C. No one knew his real
name. We found out, but aren’t telling. Cowardice is the better part of
valor.
“I hear you guys are getting near to opening. I’m the best bouncer
around and I’d like to work for you if you need some help. I ain’t
cheap, but they won’t break up the place if I’m here.”
Cee was 450 pounds and six four tall. He had a small goatee that circled
his mouth like something from Arabian Nights. He was totally bald and
had a large hoop earring in his left ear. He could have been a genie or
djinn. His reputation was to prevent fights, as a bouncer, and not just
stop them. He knew all the Rock Road troublemakers. At any price he
would be a bargain. Little did we know how much we would come to rely on
him and his crew of bouncers he would hand pick. We never had a problem
with fights or drunks forcing their attentions on any of the women. In
fact we had a Ladies Night on Tuesdays; a notoriously bad night for most
bars. The ladies drank for free, that is until a man sat with them. Then
he paid for the drinks ordered. With the best bands in the area and some
brought in from elsewhere, we soon had the reputation as being the best
place on Tuesdays for single ladies. That of course brought the men. If
they had a good time on Tuesday, they tried the other nights and found
them to be good too. We were the Number 1 bar in North St. Louis County
and some said in all of St. Louis. We liked to think in the World...
We hired the best working and
looking waitresses. We enforced a dress code and were the first to deny
entrance to less than fragrant men fresh from the job. We were the first
to have a cover charge to cover the cost of better bands. It wasn’t
much, but it meant a few hundred dollars more to get the really good
bands. We were revolutionary and it paid off in big returns. After three
months we had recouped the cost of construction and paid our lawyer
partner a big check as his share of the take. We even had a rainy day
fund started to handle slow seasons. We weren’t the cheapest bar by a
long shot, but for a decent amount of money, a guy could hear a good
band play, dance with some very pretty single girls and get his head
fuzzied by booze of some kind. Oh yeah there was always a lot of good
conversations around the bar too. We had made the bar the St. Louis
county’s favorite and my how the money rolled in... |
|
Willie pointed out that shops were being opened that catered to the
hippies and carried paraphernalia used in smoking grass. From the way
the article sounded every young person under thirty was going to be
“infected”. Willie suggested we try to find out more about it. Willie
had a feeling that “Head Shops” would be the coming thing. Then there
was the “Peace & Love” matter. The latter was what we most concerned
ourselves with or at least I was concerned with. “Free Love” sounded
good provided it didn’t cost too much. The long process necessary to
make a girl decide she was that kind of girl after all, was expensive
and time consuming. Any way to shorten the process and lessen the
expense would be appreciated. The objective was notches on the
headboard. I knew Willie was thinking of the business to be done from the back room in marijuana and other assorted goodies. We already did a fair amount from the bar, but it did make us a bit nervous, what with the liquor license to forfeit. Too many people we didn’t know were in there all the time. Since it wasn’t late, I suggested we run by my place for lunch and then we could stop by the stereo shop and see what was happening. We had the bar all cleaned up for tonight and the beer iced up behind the main bar. We had talked to the guy across the parking lot about an idea to make our Saturday’s into a real picnic.
Georgio had a fruit and vegetable stand and out back of it he had a
black dude that made the best ribs and pork and beef sandwiches you ever
tasted. He had a giant barbeque pit on wheels that he could move where
ever it needed to go. His name was Solomon and he was a chef par
excellence.
The idea was simple. Georgio had coolers to keep things cold, like slaw
and potato salad which could be made from the veggies he had on hand.
Solomon had a regular trade he cooked for, but he wasn’t doing all that
great. My idea was to make picnic benches we could set up and store
easily at the bar. Set them up on our parking lot on Saturday and have
our waitresses sell beer, barbeque and potato salad and slaw. Willie
suggested beans too. Solomon said his wife and oldest girls would be
able to make up the slaw, beans and potato salad, God knows we would
sell a lot of beer. Our parking lot would be used for the feeding area
and pick up point for the carry out. Parking would be across the street
in the parking lot for the shopping center if we needed it. Willie and I
had checked the licenses and if we didn’t make too much noise, the
ordinances said we could do it. Georgio and Solomon were enthusiastic
about it. Our radio advertising and a little extra for the newspaper and
all the promotion would be handled. Only one thing was left to take care
of- The cops! We had to have their support. Willie and I were steeling
ourselves for a visit to see the police chief this afternoon.
I suggested we stop by my place for a light lunch and regroup before
seeing the Chief. Willie hadn’t seen the place since I had finished
decorating and putting the new furniture in place. He gave a low whistle
when he walked in to the living room. The brown leather sectional and
the matching overstuffed chairs were inviting. He followed me into the
kitchen. I knew he liked greenery and the Ficus tree that Helen, my
decorator (that I had plans for) had helped me pick out was a pleasant
variance for the room. He flopped down at the table and asked if I had
any beer. I popped a can for him. It was a Coors left from our last trip
to Kansas City, Kansas. For some reason Coors came no further east than
there. We regularly drove ‘cross state to pick up as much as we could
haul and would wipe out the stock in any liquor store we found open. We
drank it and had it for parties. We wanted it in the bar, but there was
some political reason we couldn’t do that yet. With our license at risk,
we let the lawyers work on it.
“Way, when can we get started on this head shop idea. I gotta feeling we
need to get going or we’ll be too late. I’d hate to lose out to some
dumb ass that beats us to a good location.”
I stopped putting the leftover home-made soup in a pan to heat and
looked at Willie. “When you put it that way it tells me you have a place
spotted... Where is it?”
“Well, there’s this place I saw up on the Rock Road just down from the
old movie house that is open. It’s pretty long, but not too narrow. The
customers can park down by the theatre just two doors over. It has an
office in the back and a secluded back entrance. The whole thing has
air-conditioning and a gas heater for winter. The utilities are
included.”
“How many square feet since you ‘just noticed it’?” I continued making
the grilled cheese sandwiches and wondering if I could slip some arsenic
in Willie’s. It would be considered Justifiable.
“It’s 70 by 40- 2800 square feet out front. The office is another 600
square feet. Plenty of room to do what we want. The best part is there
is a secret place out back to hide a car in. I think it could be handy.
Next door is a shoe cobbler between us and the theatre and there is a
drug store on the corner next to the stop light. Between that and us is
a small beauty shop. It’s only a mile or so from the Thirteenth Hour.
Steak ‘n Shake is just up the street.” This was maximum “Willie sell”.
“I wonder how much info you’d have if you were really interested. When
are we supposed to go see it?”
“Anytime. I got the keys on me.”
“I’m glad you are waiting for my approval. How much deposit do we have
to put on it?”
“I already took care of that. It was only a couple of hundred bucks.”
“Somehow I think I’ve been railroaded. Do you know what we’re going to
put in the shop? Or do you have a plan on how to sell nothing?” My
sarcasm was water on a duck’s back- it just ran off of the protection of
enthusiasm.
“I’ve called a couple of salesmen that are supposed to handle Headgear.
I’ve got some catalogs coming and we’ll need time to plan it out as to
what we’re going to carry and how to build the shop up.”
“And do you know who is going to work in the shop?”
“Just one. You know your old friend from over at the Ornamental Iron
Shop? I got him interested and he’ll be stopping by.
“Sam Dells? He’s a biker. I don’t know if he’d be interested. That’s a
good job he’s got there. I don’t know if he’d want to give it up.”
Willie grinned, “Was a good job. They’re laying everybody off and
closing the place. The head man ran off with his secretary and left the
old lady to fend for herself and all those kids. Sam can’t wait to get
started.”
We had finished off the soup and some grilled cheese sandwiches along
with a couple of beers and were comfortable. By supper we would be ready
to kill something, but for now this would charge the batteries. Time to
do something even if it was wrong and with Willie’s guidance, it
probably would be..
Relief! The Police Chief was a real pussy cat. Willie and I explained
that we were the majority owners of the Thirteenth Hour and what we were
wanting to do with the “picnic” and that any officer who came by would
be fed free of charge just for helping to keep the traffic and crowds
straight. We thanked him for the assistance we had already gotten from
his officers in the bar (they actually hadn’t done anything) and he was
most gracious. Before I could stop him, Willie was blabbing about the
head shop, only he did call it a “smoke and young people’s gift shop”.
The Chief was listening and nodding. He said he knew the building and
would be happy to have a new business in there, “especially one owned by
such civic minded people as us”. I almost crapped right there.
We studied the catalogs and talked to the sales reps. They, in turn,
gave us the address of a place in Chicago that was supposed to be the
best head shop going. We took a couple of days and drove up to see the
place, Adam’s Apple. It was good and we got a lot of ideas from it. One
thing stood out though. They had a lot of glass and chrome and we
figured that was aimed at a less organic crowd than the people we were
wanting to appeal to in St. Louis. We understood the word ”Underground”
having been bikers and before that military veterans. Frankly the idea
of an Underground Society that had its basis in Peace and Love sounded
better than what was being pushed by LBJ or Nixon or whoever the plastic
politician in charge was.
The big lesson we learned on the carnivals was to show the wares and to
explain them to the uninitiated. We learned that by the way we were
treated. As a natural salesman, Willie was offended by the arrogance of
the Adam’s Apple sales people. However even with what was wrong, by our
observed estimate, the daily take had to be close to $2000. If we could
get to half of that we would be a large success. It was something to aim
at. We kept notes on all the names and addresses of suppliers we saw.
There turned out to be a lot of good ones. Looking in the phone books
from the named cities and/or calling information got us a flood of
catalogs. The shop design was gelling in our minds.
The stereo system was primary. We had one Underground FM Rock radio
station and another was being put together. The new underground paper,
The St. Louis Outlaw, was going pretty good and would be a credible
place to advertise. I envisioned doing cartoon ads to grab the
customers’ minds. We had settled on “Willyway” as the name for the shop.
“Willyway for your head”. I had a cartoon I drew of Willie that he
really didn’t mind too much and one for me that was something like me.
Not nearly as dashing of course. All in all, the advertising
opportunities looked good. Now to setup for the opening as soon as we
got it built and stocked.
It was busy for awhile. Pound nails and build all day. Read catalogs and
make out purchase orders half the night while watching the bar. If it
wasn’t for Mr. Clean running the bar and Sam handling the worst of the
building on the head shop, I might have run away from home. As it was I
was busy. In a fact I was so busy I nearly missed an opportunity.
Cee commented that a certain young lady had taken to dropping in every
night and buying a drink or two. Seems she sat at a table where she had
a view of me as I stupidly worked with the catalogs. Willie chimed in,
“Yeah, she watches your ass every time you walk by her and her necklines
keep getting lower. Skirt gets shorter too. Won’t be long and she’ll be
down to a belt.” yuck, yuck.
I’m human. I looked. I was stunned. She was a very tall blonde with long
hair and big blue eyes. She could’ve been a model if they took bustlines
that big. Like Willie oft said, “Where her legs came together they made
an ass out of themselves.” I have not seen as fine an example of
American Fox in a long time and I had trouble believing she was
interested in me. I walked by her and glanced back to see if she had
followed me with her eyes. She had! I walked back and stopped at her
table and asked her if I could buy her a drink.
“No thank you, I just got one.”
“Would you mind if I sat down?”
“It’s your bar, Way. You can do what you want.”
Her voice was honey and velvet. Her stare was bold and almost a
challenge. I was hooked now for sure. The band started a slow piece. I
held out my hand to her and she slid into my arms like she belonged. Her
eyes were just slightly lower than mine.
“What took you so long?”
“Wh... what do you mean?”
“I mean I have been coming here for the last two weeks and this is the
first time you’ve even looked at me.”
“I’ll have to apologize for that. We’re opening a new shop and I’ve been
distracted with it. It isn’t that I’ve been ignoring you. I’ve been
totally concentrated on that.”
I wouldn’t have thought it possible, but she snuggled in closer.
“Now that I have your attention are you going to show me your new
apartment over by Clayton?”
Alarm bells went off! I tried not to react that much and let her know
she had freaked me. This girl knew too much about me and I was
suspicious now.
“Why sure. After we go get breakfast we’ll go back there. Do you have
your car here? You could follow me.”
“Why don’t you leave yours here and we’ll take mine. That is if you
don’t mind. Mine has a bit more room than your Metropolitan.” (Freak-
freak- freak!!!)
“Tell you what, let me have the keys and I’ll have Cee bring it up front
just before closing and we can beat the crowd.”
She rummaged in her purse and managed to show a lot of cleavage in the
process. I’m not complaining. I seldom get to see a pair as big and well
formed as hers were. I took the keys to Cee and whispered to him to do
as quick a check as he could so I’d know what I was getting into. She
had said it was a Caddie Sedan de Ville. I expected a several year’s old
car- not a new one with the sticker still on the window. I saw Cee hit
the phone and knew I’d have the lowdown on her soon.
Mr. Clean motioned me over after what seemed like a long time. I excused
myself and we went to the cramped front office for privacy. On my way I
told the bartender to watch the blonde and keep her in drinks.
Cee looked grim. I waited for him to commence.
“She’s trouble I think or at least that is what my contact says. The car
is her daddy’s. He is a Vice-president of some sort at Monsanto
Chemical. Their family is kin to and pals around with the August
Busch’s. You know, Budweiser? She is the only daughter. Had a brother,
but he killed himself in a drunk car wreck. Her name is Jessica- Jesse,
last name Bondstern. Her dad has been married three times, is old money,
Harvard educated and very protective of his little girl. Now comes the
good part. She is a Playboy Bunny at the Playboy Club in the city. My
source says to watch the March issue to see her in all her charms, but
he doesn’t think daddy knows about that yet.”
“Yeah Cee, but what is she doing picking on me? She’s way out of my
circle and one of the best looking broads I’ve ever seen. God knows I
ain’t that good looking.”
“My man says she likes to associate with men her daddy would not approve
of. Supposedly she has had several abortions in the last couple of
years. By the way, I promised my guy a couple of hundred for the rush on
this.”
“Sure. Send him enough extra to let him know we value a good job and
appreciate him a lot. I can handle this now that I know what is going
on. Tell Willie I’m not going to breakfast. I’ve got a spoiled little
bitch to tend to.”
I went out to the Caddie. She was in the passenger seat and handed me
the keys through the window.
“You drive, Way. I think I’ve had too much to drink.”
The Caddie was nice and drove like a dream. I soon had little Jesse in
my apartment and was pulling her clothes off. I could tell she wanted to
go slow, but I didn’t care. Tonight I’d do what I wanted and if she
didn’t like it, she could leave- after I got done using her. She asked
me to use a condom so of course I made sure I didn’t. I nailed her three
times before falling asleep- woke up in the early morning hours and got
her again. I had a backlog to leave somewhere and I had made sure she
got it. I didn’t care if she got off or not. I looked and she was full
of what she had wanted to be in a rubber. She was surprisingly tight and
either put on a good show or else got her jollies real easy. The last
time I got her I rolled over and lit a joint. I guess I felt some guilt
because I offered her a hit. Turned out she had not toked up before. I
educated her and then had her blow me. She wasn’t very good at that
either. I didn’t care. I just rolled over and left her choking. When I
got up in the morning she was gone which wasn’t a surprise. I got up and
fixed breakfast feeling a bit smug. I went in the den and discovered
Jesse had left me a note that was two pages long. She told me how much
she had enjoyed herself and that she didn’t care if she got pregnant.
She said she had decided that I was the man she wanted to marry. She
listed all her sins that Cee had told me except about her father. She
said she wanted to move in and live with me until I could see how much
she loved me. I was getting seriously frightened. I called Willie and
told him I needed a ride to the head shop. He said he had a surprise for
me to look at and would be over.
The door bell rang and it was Mrs. Goldman, my landlady. I ushered her
in and offered her a cup of coffee. I had been collecting fine coffees
from over the world. This was some nice Colombian, rich roasted and
fresh ground. I had sprung for a brewer a chef friend had told me was
the best. The coffee was much better and Mrs. Goldman stopped by on a
regular basis once or twice a week at least to sample the latest fare.
She had a brindle, scraggly cat in her arms that was staring around with
big eyes and had missed quite a few meals. She sat him on one of the
kitchen chairs and he stayed.
“Oh I don’t. He was standing outside your door and I thought he was
yours. He’s really a nice cat and not a bit scared of us.”
“Well Mr. Cat, where did you come from? Hey that’s not a bad name is it?
Mr. Cat. Do you think you’ve found a home you old pirate? Mrs. G, would
you like to share him? I’ll get some food and fix up a cat door so he
can come and go as he wants. He can stay with you or here when I’m home.
You’ve got a key so if he needs food I’ll have a supply here in the
pantry. We can set a bowl out with water next to the outside faucet, so
that won’t be any trouble at all.”
That seemed agreeable to both of them, so that was how Mr. Cat came to
stay. I hadn’t had a cat since I was a kid. There was something about a
purring cat that took the tension away and I could sure use it now.
Especially when I read the note that Jesse left me. Willie would be
unbearable I knew.
Speaking of Willie, I heard a noise out front. A horn honked. I surmised
Willie had got another car, but it turned out I was wrong.
“Way, c’mon out and see your new car. Oh hi Mrs. G. When did you get a
cat?”
Parked at the curb was a long Pontiac Grand Prix Convertible, white with
a red interior. The thing was like new and absolutely beautiful. I was
jealous of Willie because that was exactly the kind of car I would buy
if I could find it. I sighed and went on out to see the beauty.
Willie beamed and dropped the keys in my hand as my jaw intelligently
hung open and tried to catch any errant fly in the neighborhood.
“Here go Way. I knew you have been awful busy so I took the liberty of
picking this up for you like you asked me to. I paid for it so you owe
me $1800. You better pay me quick before I change my mind and keep it. I
stopped by and had Harold put one of those new floor mount cassette
players in with the AM & FM push button tuning. He put some kind of
amplifier where the old radio was. Oh yeah, there’s a box of tapes he
had made up for you behind the seat. You need to see how he’s fixed the
Stereo shop up. He said this quarter will turn a profit and it looks
even better for the Christmas season this year. That’s another thing
we’re gonna make some bread off of.”
He turned to Mrs. Goldman and petted Mr. Cat who curiously sniffed
Willie’s hand, but decided he liked it in her arms and was too involved
to change. I stroked the upholstery of the Pontiac as if it were living.
I started it up and drove around the block.
I was stunned. I had wanted a car like this for so long. Willie was
going to get a hug no matter how it embarrassed him. The stereo was
terrific. Harold was right. As good as the standard units were, he could
improve them and had, if this was an example. The bass (woofers) was
overwhelming, yet the trebles (tweeters) were clean and clear. The
vocals could be understood if the singer enunciated at all. The Craig
unit, mounted like a miniature console on the floor, was easy to reach
and I had counted eight speaker locations. I knew there were a pair of
big bass speakers somehow in the trunk for I could feel their vibration
through the car itself when I turned the volume up. Harold had something
going with this kind of installation. I hoped it worked out financially.
The old days of a tape deck and a pair of small speakers were just about
over.
“What...what... what did you do that for,” Willie whined as he scrubbed
at his kissed cheek as if it had been infected with a plague. I noticed
his eyes said he was really pleased, but his macho got in the way.
“I kinda liked that. I may have to do that some more,” I quipped.
Willie just stared in horror. I guess the idea was a bit more than his
vision of himself could handle. I felt a giggle as I imagined me kissing
his cheek in front of some of his so-called-tough friends.
“Let’s go see the head shop and how it’s going.” I surrendered Mr. Cat
back to Mrs. Goldman, waved at Irving Goldman as he stood on his back
stoop and jumped in the car. Later I went to the bank and got Willie his
money for the car in hundred dollar bills. Willie liked hundred dollar
bills best.
We arrived at the headshop and found that only finishing touches were
left and that Sam was fast doing them. I parked in front, a thing I
wouldn’t be able to do after the opening on Saturday.
The whole front was glass slightly tinted to keep the light down inside
and limit vision in. The sign painter had covered the upper parts of the
window with the name, “Willyway.” Under it was “Head Shop”. Hopefully
not too subtle.
Going through the front door brought a riot of color and excitement and
sound. The stereo system was on the local underground FM radio station.
The sound was pervasive- easy to talk over yet the music could create a
mood. The walls were all painted flat black to display the riot of
posters that covered every possible surface. These would prove to be a
large part of the profits as they were big and could be afforded by most
people. The color and black & whites hung all over, interspersed with
leather goods of vests, sandals, purses and other essentials.
Facing the entrance was a pair of small glass counters in an “L”. This
was the “checkout” and display for part of the hundreds of varieties of
rolling papers. We also had our Underground Comix there too. A hippie
could always use some more papers and a good comic was about the
resultant level of entertainment a good high needed.
To the left were two large cases that had glass tops that were angled
from about four feet against the wall to two and a half feet on the
other end. The red one next to the window had a collection of
miscellaneous small items. A small panel swung down to allow the removal
and replacement of items. The other blue one had Bongs and pipes of all
sorts.
Behind the blue case was a room that rose almost to the ceiling which
was fourteen feet. This black room had a stair way rising three feet off
the floor and a platform that ran the length of the room and had a
similar stair at the other end. A wrought iron railing formed a hand
rail for the steps and a safety railing to keep people from falling off.
It allowed people to see the displayed goods on top of the room. Doors a
few feet back concealed storage of extra boxes of items.
The first steps led to an oval opening in the side of the room. Stepping
through and down a couple of steps, revealed a chamber illuminated with
four foot florescent blacklights. The posters displayed on the walls
were done in florescent paint. We had found many distributors for these
when looking for suppliers. We intended to be “the source” for posters
in St. Louis.
At the far end of the narrow
room was anther oval opening on the right hand wall. Looking through it
revealed what seemed to be rows of similar openings back to infinity.
Actually there were a dozen openings in similar partitions, all hung
with posters under the eerie glow of the black lights. The last doorway
had a large seamless mirror that reflected everything to produce the
dizzying effect of infinity. The floor was a foot of foam rubber so that
walking became a fun thing and falling was equally happy. Florescent
silly string was all over. Excited laughs and shouts of joy could be
heard all day as people too stoned to be other than amused, found the
room to be hilarious. Fortunately all the customer had to do was to
remember the number of the poster he or she wanted. If they forgot, no
one minded going back to get it. We called it the Infinity Room.
Under the crossing platform were cubby holes where the stock of posters
was kept rolled up and sorted by number. It was a moment’s effort to
extract the chosen poster, roll it and slide a clear plastic sleeve over
it for protection so the stoned customer could get it home unscathed.
Between the stairs was a pair of large all glass cases in which were
displayed roach clips, pipes- brass and glass, carburetors and other
exotic smoking aids and jewelry essentials. The first month we sold a
Peace emblem on a leather thong for the price of $2.00 each. They were a
resin casting of a hand carved piece and we paid $6.00 a dozen for them.
They were crafted pieces and we sold over two thousand the first month.
On the back wall next to the stairs was an opening with an arched top.
It was separated from the front by a heavily beaded curtain. Behind it
was a toilet room to the right that, in keeping with the front, had
weird angles to it. It had been that way when we got the place. To the
left was the office where Willie and I engaged in our extra-curricular
business activities. A water bed, small couch, large bean bag, two desks
and several chairs filled the place. The water bed was on the floor,
framed and curtained for an almost “Arabian Nights” effect. The walls
here were painted in large airbrush scenes that Willie and I had done
one night while trying out some of the acid from California. LSD sure
makes you see some strange shit. I was kind of proud of the running
nudes although it would be called sexist by some of my “sisters”.
Out the massive back door was a hidden alcove. It had been a way for the
dry cleaning plant, now closed, to have access to its trucks loading up.
Now it could serve as a hidden parking place. Willie said he had plans
for it. It was intriguing.
Willie was as proud of the shop as I was and I think Sam was even more
so. He practically lived here. As soon as we were open and he was
straight on the bookwork needed, we planned to make him manager and give
him a small share in the profits as well as a salary increase. “Pay ‘em
well or lose them to the competition”, was our motto. Besides Sam
deserved it. A large portion of the work was his and we liked him a lot.
We partied together a lot in the office area and life was very good. |
|
Willie was laughing at me. He found it funny that I was having trouble
with a female. I think it was because he always found himself in trouble
what with juggling wives, mistresses, girl friends, flirtations and
casual fucks. I had some admiration of how he choreographed it all into
a giant dance with him in the spotlight all the time. The stress would
kill me off in a week, yet he seemed to thrive and even need the
multiple relationships.
My current problem was one Jessica Bondstern nee Jesse. She was a real
Playboy Bunny and had a centerfold spread (literally) coming up. I had
been flattered that she had paid any attention to me and had “done a
roll in the hay” as the old expression goes. I had been so intelligent
that I had not used a condom and she was sure she was pregnant. Her
daddy did not know about this and I had been summoned to his presence
for an inspection - namely a backyard picnic he had when he had to check
out something he wouldn’t allow in his house. Willie found this to be
hilarious.
Jesse had come by with one of her girl friends from the Playboy Club to
drop off a few things. Mr. Cat, the traitor had liked them both. They
ruffled him and tickled and stroked him until he had turned into a
dishrag in their hands.
Jesse had taken Tiffany to see the bedroom and I could hear them
giggling. I peered around the corner and watched as they shed their
clothes and went to the bathroom. Jesse must’ve told Tiffany about the
shower. I stepped in the open and watched as four of the biggest tits I
have ever seen jiggled their way to the bathroom. Between them they had
enough legs for two more girls. I would have been hard pressed to decide
which had the best body or face. Brown or blonde they both had shaved
their beavers which I liked. I don’t know what would have happened next
as the phone rang and Willie was on it. I explained in sober terms my
misgivings and his giggle became a belly laugh- at my expense too!
Having found no useful advice there I hung up or should I say slammed
the phone down. I went to the bathroom in time to be too late. They were
through and Jesse handed me a towel to dry her back. What was wrong with
me? Most men would give up body parts to do what I was doing. Tiffany
presented herself for similar attention. I also made sure her breasts
were dry and roughed up her nipples until they stood out. Jesse watched
with minor interest.
“If you two want to screw, go ahead. Way and I aren’t married yet, so
it’s alright. He doesn’t like rubbers though.”
Tiffany sighed and said, “I don’t feel like getting all sweaty and
icky... you know- down there. Maybe later?”
I now knew what being put out to stud was like. I knew there was casual
sex to be had, but this was way beyond anything I’d heard of before. I
grabbed Jesse and threw her on the bed. I reached for my zipper to
release the trouser snake and stopped. Tiffany had scampered into a good
position to watch all the proceedings and was nearly salivating at the
prospect of watching me screw Jesse. Jesse was grumbling about her hair
being wet and needing to dry it. I got up and walked out.
I was having a very large Jack Daniels when they finally finished
dressing and came out of the bedroom. They looked good, of that there
could be no denying. I was starting to wonder about their brains.
Oh I did try both of them, but they were indifferent at best. They
worried about their hair and their makeup. Jesse finally told me she’d
had her period and wasn’t pregnant. I could’ve danced. Still I was to go
meet her father on Friday evening and I saw no way out.
I drove the Pontiac up the long curved driveway and parked next to all
the other cars. I could’ve retired on the money invested in those cars
alone. The Pontiac now had a set of Hallibrand Mag wheels and wide oval
tires. The slight lowering job had created a more aggressive stance and
not hurt the ride at all. More changes would come, but for now I was
satisfied.I thought it was the best looking car there.
I knocked on the door and was greeted by a man that had to be the
butler. He said I was expected and guided me through the house, I had a
feeling it was the long way so I would be suitably impressed. I wasn’t.
Jesse saw me and pounced over to grab my arm and escort me to a gray
headed, distinguished man she introduced as her father. An older woman
wandered over and was identified as “Mumsie dear”.
“So, Mr. Way, what do you do for a living? Mr. Bondstern questioned.
“It’s just Way- no ‘Mr.’ I have an interest in several businesses in the
north county. Nothing real big, but I make out.”
“My daughter says you’re a bit of a celebrity. Says you’re on the radio
and own a big night club and a head shop - whatever that is.”
“I do a late night broadcast on a new radio station with my business
partner in trade for advertising on air.”
“Yes, some of my people have heard you. KADI-FM an underground station.
They say you have a bit of talent at entertaining and between you two,
have a most popular program with young people. My people say your night
club has become the place to go, but they are a bit alarmed at this ‘Willyway’
shop of yours. They say your encouraging drug use and subversive
thought.” My warning light was activated.
“They’re absolutely right. We have drunken- drugged up orgies and burn
images of all the politicians in effigy. We openly advocate the over
throw of the system.”
“Come now, there’s no need to be antagonistic. My daughter says you want
to marry her and like any father, I’d like to find out more about you
before I give my blessing. She is my precious little girl.”
“Aberrant, addle-headed little slut working on whorehood you mean. I
don’t want to marry her and won’t. She has been trying to get me to
marry her by claiming I knocked her up. Now that I know I haven’t, I
have a piece of advice for you- shorten the leash and have ‘your people’
follow her and tell you the truth. Keep your trash home and away from
honest folk. She is a beautiful girl physically, but morally she’s as
bankrupt as you are. Take your money and shove it. I’ll have no more to
do with any of you.”
I turned and almost bumped into a very large man that I had to assume
was some kind of body guard. I dodged his grasping hands and pulled him
off balance so he fell. Before he could get up, I was gone out back
through the house. The last thing I heard was Mr. Bondstern laughing. I
was in the Pontiac and out of there. I didn’t care to see anyone so I
drove to Forest Park and sat next to the art museum looking over the
lake. It was peaceful, so I gradually calmed down. I walked over to a
pay phone there and called the head shop. Sam said it was going well and
Willie had picked up on some hippie chick and gone to the bar. I called
there and Cee said he had gone home. I decided to go to the garage at
Willie’s house and do some work on my bike I was building there.
The Harley was taking shape. I had extended the old springer front forks
by six inches which was extremely conservative. I had a lot of pieces
chromed and was in the process of putting them on. I had spent a lot of
time on smoothing the frame and tank and back fender. It had to be for
the black lacquer paint. I had laid several coats of clear on it and in
what I considered a daring experiment, had applied several coats of an
epoxy resin with a hardener to make it “bulletproof”. The stuff was so
hard I hoped it wouldn’t chip or wear. A good finish is difficult on a
bike and keeping it pristine is impossible. If this worked it would be a
major breakthrough. It looked deep. Forty coats of clear lacquer didn’t
look this deep. It looked wet all the time.
Willie must’ve heard me. He came tripping out in his underwear with a
joint to share. Having a partner that is like a brother is very cool. I
stopped what I was doing and filled him in on what had happened,
grinning at my cleverness at getting rid of Jesse. Willie listened and
frowned.
“You ain’t rid of her that easy. You just made yourself more attractive.
You know ‘forbidden fruit’. Her old man is gonna forbid her to see you
and that will mean she absolutely has to just to spite him. Naw, you
ain’t done with her yet.”
I was afraid he was right. Willie had a talent and sense about these
things. Like right now, he had a wife living in a rented house over in
University City on Olive Street Road. He had a mistress in Overland on
Airport Road. And he had a chippie here at his other house. In fact she
was coming out to the garage looking for him. She had remembered to put
on her shorts, but not a top. Her young cone shaped breasts were
jiggling with each step, the pink tips dancing as she walked to the
door. Willie waved her in and offered her a hit from the joint.
“Uh Willie, how old did you say she was? I got a bad feeling.”
“I think she said she had just turned eighteen.”
“No I didn’t. I said I had just turned thirteen and my sister is
eighteen,” the girl responded. “I called her to come get me like you
said, but she said I should stay here ‘cuz her boyfriend was there and
she couldn’t leave him all frustrated. Do you wanna do it anymore
Willie?”
Willie was a little pale around the edges, “I think I gotta get dressed
and drop you off somewhere.” He grabbed her by the arm and escorted her
back inside. After a bit I went in to get something to drink. I grabbed
a Coke and as I passed the hallway I could see them in the living room.
Willie was laid back on the couch and the girl’s head and hands were
bobbing over Willie’s lap. This was no inexperienced virgin for sure.
I left to go back to my apartment feeling much more relaxed. I pulled up
in front and parked the Pontiac in the garage. As I went to close the
garage door, a long legged form came flitting in under it. It was Jesse.
Willie was right. I wasn’t through with her.
“Oh Way, my daddy said I should come here and see if you’ll change your
mind. He says I need someone like you who’s strong and won’t put up with
me or my relatives. He said I should beg you for a chance. I’m begging!
Please let me stay.”
All the while she was talking, she was busy trying to unzip my pants and
pull me out. In spite of myself I was erect and ready. She devoured me
as if I was her last meal. I couldn’t hold back. It wasn’t that she was
good. I think it was her desperation. She still choked before she
swallowed, but she seemed to be enjoying it more. However it was a
mistake on her part to finish me. If I’d stayed teased to arousal, her
fantastic body would have tempted me and I might have relented. I
realized I cared absolutely nothing about her though.
“Look Jesse, just leave. You’re not good at any sex, so I have no use
for you at all. It’s a shame you never learned to use all those assets
you have. They look so good, but you are the deadest piece of ass I’ve
ever had. I’ve tried you and you can’t do anything very well. Tell your
daddy to get you some sex education. If you learn how to fuck and suck
some ugly horny truck driver might try you. I won’t though. You disgust
me.”
It was the last line that worked. I saw her centerfold, but even there I
could see she was not into the sexuality of the shoot. The camera man
must’ve gone nuts trying to find poses that would work. He had resorted
to using more concentration on her genitals and hiding her vacant face
behind a gauzy curtain. She had a great body, but her mind and attitude
overcame all of that. I actually felt sorry for her and her friend
Tiffany because I realized they didn’t even understand that they were
latent lesbians. That is why they were hanging around each other. I
hoped they would someday realize it, but with their brains, I doubted
it.
Willie dodged the bullet again. His little Lolita came from a real bunch
of low lifes. They not only knew what she did, they wanted her to become
a professional. Willie knew a couple of guys that ran stables so he sent
her to them. She only came back every now and then. She seemed to be
happy. Willie’s friends sent him a big redhead for his birthday. She was
over six feet two and built! When she heard it was my birthday too, she
called and soon another girl showed up. She was a well-endowed Italian.
She spoke little English, but she didn’t need to speak any. Another
birthday well spent.
The businesses were prospering. Willie and I needed our CPA’s to help us
find ways to keep from paying so many taxes. We had opened another Craig
Car Stereo shop in South St. Louis County. A small bar out by the
airport that was used by the pilots and airline folk needed an influx of
cash. We came up with it for a third ownership in Sir Robin’s Den. We
had paid to get the interior reworked to a more appealing look and hired
a new manager who now had a small interest in the profits. He had hired
some entertainment in the form of a piano player who wasn’t a bad
standup comedian as well. On other nights he had a guitar player who
could do from jazz and flamenco to easy background music and had a
girlfriend who sang along. It would be making money soon.
The passing months had been terrific. One event had proved to be most
advantageous. We had a visitor knock at our back door. Willie had opened
it and a very large police man had entered in a hurry. He had propelled
Willie back into the office. He flopped down on the couch across from us
and just stared.
“My name is Malone. I’ve been in you guys bar a couple a times to haul
drunks out. Maybe you remember me?”
I nodded and he went on.
“I been elected to contact you guys about a problem we got. We have a
need for some merchandise you guys are rumored to carry. Our source will
be indisposed for the next five to ten on a stupid he did. We could use
a new supply source that can keep it quiet and wondered if you guys
would be interested?”
“Is this what you mean Malone?” I held up a joint and lit it, passing it
to the big cop. He sighed and took a hit that indicated his expertise at
using grass. He wanted us to become his dealers. Willie was grinning and
I felt this was one of the things he had been working for all along. Had
he known this was a possibility or was it just Providence that gave this
opportunity to us? I doubted if I’d ever find out for sure and it really
didn’t matter. Malone would be the conduit we would work through, He
hinted to me that he had some other friends and opportunities that would
come available as time went by. I had no idea of how deep this would go.
Now I had good reason to hang around the headshop even more so. Willie
would drop by for awhile each day and then tend to the bars in the
evening which usually meant seeing if there were any interesting ladies
he could score. He had traded in his old double bed for a new waterbed
similar to mine. I accused him of keeping notches on the headboard. He
smiled and said if he did that it would be sawdust. After my experience
with the Bunny, I had been soured on the fairer sex and become monastic,
almost... I had dated Helen, the interior decorator that I wanted to
decorate my bed. Several times we had made out up to the
point-of-no-return only to have her duck out on me.
One night I had prepared my trap well and Helen would be under me or I
would know why. I had wined and dined her. I had plied her with some
rare Jamaican ganja that was supposed to induce a woman to need, with a
capital need, to have her brains screwed out. She had been passionate in
all the foreplay and had allowed me to guide her to the waterbed. Her
clothes and mine were on the floor. All I had to do was to do the final
insertion. She put her hand against my chest in a manner that said stop.
I did. Big mistake!
“Way I really want you and I know you want me, but there is a problem.
I’m married and we’re trying to have a child. If I go to bed with you, I
won’t know if the baby is yours or my husbands. I couldn’t hurt him that
way. I’m so sorry...”
She was dressed and out the door before I could come out of shock. I
didn’t try to see her again after that and just retreated into doing the
business. Willie had tried to fix me up with a couple of his trollops
and friends, but I just couldn’t get interested for some reason.
Malone was becoming a regular client, He started out with a few lids a
week and has progressed up to a pound a month. He wants the better pot
now and price doesn’t seem to be a problem. The other day he had me meet
him and had a dignified gentleman with him. He introduced the man as a
judge. I meet this guy almost every week with at least a half a pound of
the very best I can get. This guy peels off hundred dollar bills like
they were chewing gum. I know the judge can’t be smoking it all himself,
but he is very closemouthed until I happened to get some Maui Wowee.
This pot has been known to make a statue talk. I shared a joint with the
judge to let him “try it” to see if he liked it. He did and I found out
that he was buying for another two judges and a chief of detectives in
the County Force. Why he made the connection to come to Willie and me I
don’t know. I only know if I get hassled for almost anything I’ll have
several friends in high places. I’m in no hurry to test that though.
Things were going well with all the businesses, especially the Head
shop. Willyway was becoming a place that when people visited St. Louis
they stopped by to see it. I never saw anyone who looked bored in the
shop. We worked hard to make it a “people’s” shop and not be too
commercial. We held the prices to what seemed reasonable and tried to
improve the buying. Strangely the principal was working with the other
businesses as well.
Willie and I were in the office going over some catalogs. We made it a
rule to introduce something new each week and had just found some new
leather items. Purses, billfolds, moccasins and other stuff. The price
was excellent as it was being brought out of Mexico. I don’t think there
was any duty paid on it is why it was so reasonable. Probably hauled
across with the dope we ordered.
Sam stuck his head in the door to announce that a sales man was here.
Since sales men usually had loads of new stuff, stories and occasionally
some good dope, we welcomed them if it was at all possible. We told Sam
to show him back. Sam giggled and disappeared. Sam giggled? We soon saw
why. Sam escorted a good looking brunette in halter-top and shorts in
and set her sample case in front of the small couch. She introduced
herself as Clara. Her hair was longish and straight in keeping with the
times. Her legs and bare midriff were tanned and she looked fit. Her
halter top was strained trying to keep those big un’s in. She plopped on
the couch and the boobs almost escaped their confinement. Willie almost
strangled on his spit.
“C’mon in Bits,” she called to the small figure in the hall. I had seen
the small shadowy form and had figured it was a kid that Clara had
brought with her. What stepped out of the shadows was no kid. She was
small, even tiny, but absolutely the most perfectly shaped woman I’d
ever seen. I had been lounging on the waterbed, but sat up when she
stepped into the light.
“This is my roommate Bits. Let’s see, your Willie and your Way, right?”
Bits said Hello and it was the greatest sound I’d ever heard. Her voice
had a breathy quality to it that said “sex”. I had no choice anymore; I
had to be with her. I noticed that since she had looked at me her eyes
had not wavered either. Could she be feeling what I was?
Willie rolled a joint and passed it around. First Clara then Bits took a
hit. I took it from her and our fingers touched. It wasn’t a shock, but
something passed between us. When I took my toke I could taste her on
the joint or at least I imagined I did. My eyes were examining every
inch of her. I was like a starving man who found himself at a picnic, I
didn’t know how or where to start. I sat mute and just stared.
Her hair was light brown, long and sun streaked. It was a thick tangle
of unruliness that invited fingers to stroke it and use it to pull that
face closer for examination. Her face was an oval. Cheekbones high and
defined with those slight hollows under them that produce such dramatic
shadows in the right light. Her eyes were large and golden brown. I was
lost in them for what seemed like hours as they spoke to me.
Her lashes were thick and long, curling slightly. Her brows were
well defined and accented her wide open look. Her neck was a long smooth
column that formed shoulders that begged to be nibbled and held. Her
halter top covered what appeared to be large breasts. I could not be
sure of their form, but I was sure they would be delicious. As I stared,
her nipples reacted to my gaze and hardened- they formed little peaks
that threatened to tear through the thin cloth. “C’mon guys,” I cheered
them in my mind.
Her waist looked as if I could span it with my hands. She had no fat to
speak of, her mid section muscles stood out in ridges that cried out to
be touched. Her hips were in proportion to her size, yet she appeared
slim in a most feminine way. Her legs were slim with no trace of fat.
The muscles moved clearly under a sleek skin that glowed as she did
every place I could see. Her feet were tiny and arched with long toes.
As a package she was barely five feet tall and weighed under a hundred.
By no way could she be imagined to be a small girl. She was all woman.
I was hypnotized, mesmerized, fascinated, obsessed and that was the
parts I could understand. I could feel something about her that I had
felt for no other woman before. I refused to put a name to it, but fled
from the thought.
“Why don’t you show Bits the Infinity room,” Willie said. That was a
ploy he used when he wanted to get alone with a girl and make the first
move. It was so other worldly in there that anything seemed to be
alright. He winked broadly. It sounded good to me. I held out my hand to
her and she trustingly put hers in mine and rose to face me. There was
nearly a foot difference in our heights, but it didn’t matter. I turned
and led her out the door to the stairs of the walkway. As we walked
slowly she alertly looked at everything. She made a small sound as she
saw a small gold plated roach clip on a chain that was more jewelry than
practical. I reached in the case and pulled it out for her to see. She
touched my hand as she took it and this time something did jump between
us. She gasped and her eyes flew to mine. I didn’t know if mine were as
wide as hers, but I was seeing her for the first time. She was beautiful
in more than her physical form. I swallowed heavily.
Bits handed me back the little roach clip. I undid it’s clasp and
awkwardly put it around her neck, closing the clasp with shaking hands.
The end of it swung to settle between her breasts. “Lucky thing,” I
thought.
I took her hand and ducked through the oval opening into the Infinity
Room. Transducers turned every surface of it into a speaker so that the
music surrounded you without being too loud. The first room was the
largest and we moved slowly so Bits could see the black light posters
under the UV lights glowing in brilliant colors. She smiled and made
pleased little sounds as she looked at them. We reached the far end
where the entrance to the next room was. Looking through the oval
entrance you could see duplicate openings going back to infinity, thanks
to the mirror in the room at the far end reflecting the images. Bits
stepped through the opening and like most of the people fell down. The
rooms had a foot thick sheet of foam rubber on the floor painted black.
She sat there a second and then erupted in laughter. She rolled over and
stood up and staggered into me still laughing. She looked up at my face
as I looked at hers. Our eyes met. Suddenly she was on tiptoes and I was
bending down so we could kiss. Her mouth moved under mine hungrily and
her tongue found mine. It didn’t last long enough and she backed up a
step. Her hand braced against my chest as she panted and looked hunted
like a frightened little animal. Then she flew back to me and we kissed
again. She pulled back and looked at me with wide eyes.
“I... I wanted that real bad,” she said in a husky voice. I realized
that was the first thing I’d heard her say since “Hello”. Never mind all
the Day-Glo and florescent inks, she smiled and out glowed them all. She
went through and looked at all the posters and liked the way the last
room circled back. I looked at her and got lost in her voice as she
hummed and sang along with some of the songs the stereo was pumping in.
By the time we got out of the Infinity Room she was chattering at me as
if we had known each other forever. I had a brain seizure apparently and
couldn’t think of a valid thing to say.
We went back into the office. Willie looked up at me and smiled
knowingly. I guess I had my “Perfect Idiot’s Grin” pasted on. Clara
looked at Bits and they must’ve communicated in some female telepathy.
Clara smiled at me as if giving her blessing.
“Willie, that concert tonight. If these ladies aren’t busy or too tired,
maybe they’d like to go? It’s Ted Nugent and the Amboy Dukes. Would you
like to go?” I wasn’t willing to let this little one go easily.
Willie perked up, “Yeah, I almost forgot it. We got time to get a bite
to eat and get high and fool around a little before we go. So how about
it, do ya wanna go?”
Bits looked at Clara and was eagerly nodding her head. Clara sighed and
said, “Oh hell, what else were we going to do? Yeah we’ll go. But we
need to get to bed early”
Willie and I looked at each other. Had she read our minds? Unless she
meant sleep, it was going to be a night to remember.
I dug into the secret stash for some of the good drugs. I changed into a
Hawaiian shirt I kept in the shop for emergencies. Willie had to run an
errand, which was to alibi to his wife and mistress that he had some
business to attend to. The girls slid in with me in the Pontiac and we
headed up to Steak ‘n Shake to eat. Clara got in the back to eat when
the food came. Bits didn’t move over very much. I hadn’t been this keyed
up in years. I didn’t really eat much. Seeing Bits looking at me over
one of those giant burgers was food enough for me. Willie came rolling
up in his wife’s Ford Fairlane Convertible just after our food came.
Clara slipped over to Willie’s car with her food. He ordered something
and we waited for it to come. Meanwhile I was telling Bits about the
“Motor City Madman” as Nugent was known. She sipped on her shake and
watched me with big eyes. I guess I was nervously chain smoking. I
apologized and threw the butt out. She just looked at me in a peculiar
way.
“I’ve never had a man apologize to me before. It feels funny. You really
meant it didn’t you?”
“Yes I did. I had no right to be blowing my smoke in your face while you
were eating. I’m real sorry.”
She kneeled up on the seat and silenced me with her finger tips. She
leaned in and kissed my cheek and whispered “Thank you.” I felt like a
million bucks suddenly.
We got to the concert over in St. Charles across the Missouri River. It
was at an old theatre that had been cleaned up for this performance. We
were a bit early, but since the headshop was a ticket outlet we already
had our reserved seats down front. Clara and Willie clambered into my
car so we could listen to tunes and smoke a few. I pulled out the Piece
de resistance! Four double “O” capsules.
“This is Hawaiian Baby Wood Rose seeds. They’ve been processed to make
them the best high possible. They’re pure organic LSD. You drop half and
snort half for best quick results. Sam got these in a trade with a guy
last week. If we like them we can get more”.
I reached over Bits to get a mirror out of the glove box. Willie already
had a dollar bill rolled up to snort with. Clara and he did theirs and
they both gasped as the drug hit quickly. They each swallowed the last
part. Sam said that was what kept the high going for a few hours. He
said the best part was you never got out of control or paranoid. Bits
and I did ours. I had to fight a sneeze and finally had to snuffle it.
My head exploded. I suddenly wanted to taste this little elf in front of
me. I laughed. That’s what she was, a tanned elf. I knew if I moved that
mass of hair I’d see the points on her ears. I was so convinced that I
didn’t have to look.
We got out of the car and I locked it up. Willie carefully locked his
car and was headed in when I pointed out he had left the top down. He
cursed and laughed as he put it up and only had to check it for being
locked a couple more times. Thank God they had ushers and ours knew us.
We would’ve still been hunting for the seats today.
The first guy was a young guitarist we had hired in for a couple of gigs
at Sir Robin’s Den. He was very good and the audience was with him. He
did some off color stuff he hadn’t done at the bar. I remarked to Willie
how he needed to do that stuff in the bar and we’d get a better crowd.
He agreed.
What can you say about Nugent. He was wild. He prowled the stage, leapt
from high amplifiers and entertained the hell out of us all. The grass
smoke layered in the place, but there was no sign of cops or security.
It was a great concert. Bits even found an occasion to kiss me. I wanted
to touch that breast that leered at me, but I resisted temptation.
Willie and I had gone to get Cokes between groups and had made
reservations at a motel near where I lived, but actually in Clayton.
Willie said the girls had no where to stay. I had said I would take Bits
to my place, but Willie said that wouldn’t work if his wife went out
checking and found I was home when we had to “go on a business trip”. If
I could spend more time with the little elf- that was enough for me. We
smoked it up during the concert and we all felt good. My high wasn’t
just from the drugs. |
|
As we left the concert, Willie and Clara followed Bits and me to the
motel, Willie and I had selected on a visit to the men’s room. Willie
said that Clara had mentioned the girls didn’t have reservations
anywhere. Willie had his wife’s Fairlane convertible while Bits and I
were in my Pontiac ragtop. The Craig Car Stereo
had a local underground FM station on. Stairway to Heaven was
being wailed by Robert Plant and Bits was grooving to it. I had been
afraid she would be a DDH (Damn Door Hugger), but she had slid in next
to me and snuggled up like we always did this. Good weed has a way of
loosening everything up.
It was about a half an hour drive back to the shop to where Clara’s old
Chevy was parked. The girls had left their overnight bags in Clara’s car
and wanted to get them before we took them to the motel. As we pulled in
the movie house parking lot, two doors up the street from the head shop,
I asked Bits if it would be alright if we shared a room tonight. She
looked at me from where she was leaning against the seat and said in
what seemed to be the sexiest voice I can ever recall hearing, “I’d love
to”, before hopping out to retreive whatever it is girls carry in those
bags.
The girls were chattering in the lot next to their car while Willie and
I sat in our cars waiting. Bits came over to talk to me through the
window that was down.
“Clara says she’s too high to drive so is it OK if we take you guys’
cars?”
I assured her it was and she yelled back at Clara to “Go ahead”. I could
see Clara struggling with her suitcase as Bits skipped back over to get
hers from the trunk of the old sedan. It was a small case and she ran
back with it before I could put on my gentleman act and gallantly carry
it for her. As she tossed it behind her seat I saw that Willie was true
to form and hadn’t moved a muscle as Clara struggled with her bigger
suitcase. He did kick open the door for her.
“She always takes the kitchen sink with her,” Bits laughed. “She packed
half of everything she owns before we left. Someone at where she works
at Lenter Enterprises had told her about you guys so she made
sure she was ready. She even promised to do the apartment cleaning for a
month if I’d come along. Are you glad I did?.” As usual it was
rhetorical for she was on the move and climbing in.
She flopped down next to me and half kneeling, because she was so small.
She tugged my beard so she could lean up and kiss me. Suddenly I
couldn’t wait to get to the motel, there was that much promise in her
kiss. She leaned back against the dash to face me as we drove the too
many blocks to the motel.
The Stones were extolling the virtues of Brown Sugar on the stereo. I
was pretty damned happy- not to mention stoned from the smoke and the
Hawaiian Baby Wood Rose.
Her halter top showed a flat belly with really nice definition (what
would come to be known as a “six-pack”). Her breasts were not oversized,
but were full and round. The best description is- they were perfect.
Although she was elfin in size and delicate in appearance, she was
formed slimly and just a perfect total package. Her skin was tanned and
flawless. From what I had already touched, she was soft with the muscles
of a well toned body under that sleek covering. Lip lickin’ good. I
wanted to taste all of her everywhere.
I flat couldn’t believe how lucky I was. I did feel a bit of concern,
<“Would she let me go to bed with her or was she just another goddamn
tease? God knows I’ve seen enough of those. Oh well I’ve spent the night
on the floor before.”> My thoughts were tumbling on themselves. I did
have some anxiety since I knew I wasn’t what could be called
‘good-looking’.
“Hey, nothing is as serious as that,” she cooed as she leaned forward
from the dash, running her tiny hand up the inside of my Levi-clad leg
almost to where I wanted her to touch. When I gasped in surprise she
tossed her hair out of her face and uttered a musical little laugh. She
ran her hand too briefly over my little pride and joy maker, trailing
her nails across my stomach and producing flip-flops I hadn’t felt since
my early teen years in the back of my old ‘47 Ford. If she didn’t slow
down the main event would be over before the bell rung.
She leaned forward some more so I could see the inner curves of her
breasts and took my lower lip in her even, white teeth, lightly biting.
I revised my opinion of her breast size based on the fleeting glimpse
I’d had. God was I a happy hippie...
She looked behind and asked in a quizzical voice, “Is that Willie on our
(our!!!) bumper flashing his lights”?
I glanced in the mirror to confirm it and back at the speedometer
guiltily... <“Jeez- 25 miles per hour on St. Charles Rock Road on a
Friday night,” I thought. “I better concentrate or we’ll wind up in East
St. Louis -next April the way I’m going”>.
I waved to indicate I got the message and speeded up. Bits turned around
and sat beside me. The Bonneville kicked it up to my more normal 60 MPH
even though the limit was 40. I kept the police contacts, that Willie
and I had cultivated, busy taking care of tickets. Bits was hanging on
to my leg and starting to dig her nails in a bit, so I backed off a
little. We turned off on the side streets headed south and wound up at
our destination in Clayton.
“Did I tell you Willie had
called for reservations”, I asked Bits? She nodded in an enthusiastic
agreement. Willie probably knew this place, but I hadn’t been here
before.
“How fast is this car,” Bits asked, her eyes enormous. She was stroking
the red leather seat, obviously a bit impressed.
“I’ve had it past the speedometer,” I told her pointing at the
Stewart-Warner gauge set in the dash. The gauge was a 140MPH and
guaranteed to be accurate. Bits slid over to the door and opened it.
“I’ll get the room key,” she chirped and skipped after Clara and Willie
as they entered the office. It was just a few moments later she skipped
back out and waved me to follow her to the room. I crept just behind her
so I could watch her move. It was like those cut-off shorts had a pair
of puppies fighting in them. Utterly fascinating.
“The guys are right next door... We’re in here,” she indicated Room 32.
She unlocked the door and disappeared inside. By the time I got her bag
and locked the car she had the TV on and was exploring the bathroom.
“Oh I need a bath. Do you mind if I take a bath? I really need one. I
won’t be long. Will you wait or... Will you join me? That could be fun.
Do you want to?” She pranced and skipped around the room babbling-
stopping just long enough to grab my hair on either side to pull me down
for a quick kiss before skipping off to explore the Magic Fingers on the
bedside table. This hair and beard tugging were getting to be a habit
with her. Strangely I was starting to enjoy it too. I was laughing so
hard I had to sit on the edge of the bed or fall down. I fished a joint
out of my shirt and lit it. Sure enough she came romping out of the
bathroom to get her share. She took a big hit before I could caution
her...
“Hon, that’s some good Oxacan Green. You gotta take it easy on that
stuff. It’s real potent,” I cautioned her too late as she almost turned
purple before exploding in a spasm of coughing. She looked so miserable
for a second I wondered what was wrong.
“Shit, I wasted it and it tasted so good. Do we have anymore? Do you
have any change? I wanna soda, you want one too?” She dug in my pockets
and extracted some coins, ripped open the door and raced past Willie
with his hand raised to knock. Clara just dodged the flitting elf like
she was used to it.
“Oh great, you got one going. Is this the Columbian? Oh!” He answered
his own question as he took a hit from the joint he had removed from my
nerveless fingers as I lay on the bed helplessly laughing at Bits’
antics. Something thumped on the door so Clara opened it and Bits darted
in, her arms loaded with sodas.
“I got enough for everybody. You know those fuckers are charging a
quarter each. You need to start watching how you spend your money Way...
What’s the matter baby?”
All concern she leapt on the bed beside me. I must’ve looked like I was
strangling as I held in the hit and held back the laugh, I couldn’t help
it... I exploded in laughter holding my aching sides. Bits looked around
at the others in confusion for a moment.
“Oh, I’m doin’ it again ain’t I?”
Everybody nodded and we all broke up again. This would be a night to
remember. I gave Willie a couple of joints as we finished the one we
already had going. We talked about the concert and how great Nugent had
been. By then Bits had turned into a sleepy cat and was curled up
against me, nearly purring. Her head in my lap, with her hand pillowing
her head- she was aware of what her impudent fingers were doing to a
most sensitive part of my anatomy. I might get an ear job.
Willie stood up and stretched. “Well I got the Screamin’ Hungry Munchies
now. Anybody want to walk over to the Pancake House? Or there’s a Burger
bar next to that.”
Clara bounced up and hooked his arm. I shook my head and rolled my eyes
to indicate what was on my menu. Bits was very fetching with her
graceful legs pulled up and the shorts rolled up so far as to almost
expose her whole backside. She stretched, raising her arms over her head
and making Willie let out a low whistle as he got a look at what her
breasts did to the fast loosening halter I would soon relish removing to
scan the contents.
They dodged out the door and I momentarily didn’t know whether to wake
up Bits or let her sleep. I ran my hand down her side trying to decide
if I wanted to get a handful now or wait.
“I really like Willie and Clara is my Bud, but I thought they’d never
leave.” Bits said, her voice now husky and sexy. She rolled to her feet
and taking a sip of soda headed for the bathroom. I heard the bath tub
start filling and the steam started rolling out of the open door. Her
clothes came flying out of the door to land next to her suitcase. I made
note of the lack of underwear. No wonder her clothes looked painted on.
I took a big slug of soda as I tried to figure what to do next. Bits
appeared at the door sans all clothing. I choked. I knew she was
shapely, but not this much. Who would have thought five feet could be
that stacked? She stood with one leg slightly forward in an unconscious
model’s pose. Except for the hair on her head she had no hair anywhere.
The phrase ran endlessly through my head, “No hair-anywhere”, over and
over. I made an effort and closed my mouth from it’s slack drooling,
idiot expression. I hate it when it does that.
Her waist was tiny and well defined musculature ridged her mid section.
Her breasts were glorious. The size of large grapefruit with slightly
conical brownish tips from which her prominent nipples jutted. They
almost looked as if they curved upwards a degree or two. Her skin was a
golden tan with no breaks in the color indicating a lack of clothing
when she lay in the sun. “A nudist,” I wondered?
Only one word could apply to this enchantress: Beautiful! Followed
closely by Perfection!
“Are you going to join me,” she queried? She turned and disappeared back
in the bathroom, her backside a promise of Paradise. Tearing off my
suddenly restrictive clothing, I followed feeling like a great clumsy
oaf tripping after this graceful, elfin creature. I moved to join her in
the too small tub as she made room for my gracelessness.
“Ooo, is that for me,” she asked staring at my obvious arousal. She
snickered like a little girl as she reached to capture it in her tiny
hand. It jerked in response and she kissed it too briefly.
You probably won’t believe this, but the next hour we played like
children, exploring each others bodies and tasting each others lips in
lingering kisses. I have not been too much into kissing up ‘til now, but
she made it a new experience and I could not get my fill of her mouth
and darting tongue. I was sure that the word ”sensuous” was created to
describe her. Since the water was getting cold we dried each other off
with the big fluffy towels this motel was known for. I couldn’t resist
touching her and found her breasts with their perpetually hardened
nipples to need constant weighing and hefting. I teased them until she
said I was making them sore. I apologized and must have looked as
stricken as I felt because she laughed and tugged my beard until I was
once again kissing her nipples. We still hadn’t made love all the way
yet. It was like we were holding back and savoring each other, knowing
the first time only happened once.
Then we were doing it. Why people are so reluctant to make love to each
other I can’t understand. If you are just collecting notches on your
waterbed, that is one thing. But if you truly want to get to know
another person and see them with all their guards down, is there a
better way?
Bits and I made love. It was very urgent the first time, primed by our
long foreplay. We just couldn’t hold back. She was vocal and sure let me
know what felt best. For my part, she could do no wrong. After we had
burned off the anxiety and immediacy,
we started again- only more slowly and with less urgency. I have
been with a few women in my time and had a few things I had learned.
Bits responded to everything I did like a well strung violin. I played
her and in turn, was played. I don’t think she had a heck of a lot of
experience at playing- not that she was virginal. It was the enthusiasm
she used in exploring me and creating sensations. I lost count on how
many times she climaxed, but it got to the point I thought I would have
to use a pillow to smother her cries so the other people in the
thin-walled motel could get some sleep. My own orgasm, when it came
seemed to last forever and turn me inside out. I felt like Bits must
have a gallon of me in her.
Finally we did drift off to sleep. She was hugging my chest and I had my
arm laid across her, my hand encircling her perfect, but well chewed
breast. How long we slept I’m not sure, but I came awake to her doing
interesting things to me with her hands and mouth.
I told her, “If you keep that up I won’t be able to hold back”.
She looked up at me and innocently said, ”So don’t”.
I couldn’t! She made little choking sounds, but she hung in there with
me. She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand and mused, “I’ve
always wondered what that would be like”.
“Did you like it, pretty girl?”
“Yes. I especially liked the way you went out of control”. She
grinned...
I didn’t know if I had the strength to go again, but I did know some
oral exercises myself. I flipped her on her back and realized as I
started that I truly wanted to do this with her like she had done with
me. She really started shrieking her pleasure. She was stuffing the
corner of the pillow in her mouth to try to be quiet, but to no avail.
Bits was so totally into the love-making that she finally made me stop
because she had been having one orgasm after another and now was so
sensitive that a good kiss could start another cycle of climaxes. We lay
in each others arms and small talked until we finally slept. I don’t
know if it was very late or very early... I didn’t care- I was where I
wanted to be.
I woke up first, being a creature of habit and used to waking up at 7:00
each morning. I eased out of bed and got my watch off the seedy little
dresser. Sure enough it was a couple of minutes until 7:00. Time to get
the day started. I snagged my pack of Camels off the dresser and
gingerly sat on the arm chair that posed as the room’s “Easy Chair”.
Since I had no clothes on, I sat real easy until I figured my anatomy
was fairly safe from springs ‘n things from beneath.
The cigarette tasted good, but I really wanted a cup of coffee. Over on
the desk was a small basket. I got up and investigated it. A miracle! In
it were packs of instant coffee, sugars, sweeteners, creamers and best
of all, a small 1 cup immersion heater to have hot coffee and two white
china mugs. There was also some hot chocolate packs as well. A couple of
plastic wrapped spoons made up the contents. If there had been a bar and
condom machine the room would have had all there was possible to have...
at least for my purposes eyeing the nude girl in the bed.
The thought of the condom machine reminded me I hadn’t used
anything.<“Boy, that’s all I need. To knock her up on the first date,”>
I thought. Then I looked at her curled up in sleep, her hair tousled,
looking like Bridgette Bardot. I realized that was who Bits reminded me
of. I looked closer and really studied her. Damn, she could be a movie
star. She looked better than most of them and sure as hell was shaped
better. Although I had no practical experience in the matter, I
suspected that she screwed better too. I knew I wasn’t that good, but
Bits made me feel as if she was giving a standing ovation (Or was that
ovulation?). That reminded me of the joke about the guy who took an
asthmatic girl to bed. He mentioned after they were through that she had
made some unusual noises. She told him it was just her asthma. He said,
“Thank God. I thought you were hissing me.”
I let my eyes roam over Bits more freely than I had before. Man, she was
sensational. Every part was perfect and belonged with all the others in
perfect proportions. I thought. <“If I did knock her up I could do a lot
worse.”> What was I thinking? were the drugs making me limp brained?
My first marriage had not worked real well. Besides my “Delayed Stress
Syndrome”, we were both too immature at the time and had money problems.
That wouldn’t be a problem now... Money that is.
It was a bit depressing to not be sharing my life and bed with
any one. I lit another cigarette and went through the ceremony to make a
cup of coffee in the big white mugs provided. I sat back down to puzzle
over what I had been considering. As I stared at that perfect body I saw
her eyes open. One second asleep, the next awake, Just like me... Well,
almost.
“Hey sweet thing, want a cup of instant coffee.”
“How... how long have you been awake,” She stuttered. Apparently she
wasn’t quite awake yet. She tangled with the sheet on the foot of the
bed and tumbled into my lap semi-gracefully. I barely managed to set the
coffee down before I was catching a warm, sleepy, rumpled hunk of
femineity. It was my pleasure. She laid her head on my chest and wrapped
her arms around my neck while her legs crossed mine in a jackknife
position. She fit real well.
I sat that way enjoying her warmth for a couple of minutes. She raised
her head for a good morning kiss and tugged my beard to pull my head
down, which I was happy to oblige. It got a little deeper than that. She
really wrapped me up in her strong, slim, little arms. Her tongue worked
it’s way into my mouth and my hand found the hard nippled breast it
sought. I squeezed the firm softness and she moaned in her throat and
pushed against my hand wantonly. This was getting to be very
interesting.
It seemed like she weighed nothing sitting on my lap, but maybe that was
my testosterone surfacing. Her hand came from behind my neck and reached
down between my legs, caressing and cradling me. She must’ve liked the
reaction she got because she started that purr thing of hers. She slid
off my lap to between my legs and deepened her actions in a repeat of
what she had done the night before.
“Bits, I don’t know if I can,” I protested. I reached to pick her up,
but she brushed my hand away and made growling noises in her throat. The
last thing I wanted to do was to make a growling woman mad when she had
my most sensitive anatomy in her mouth. Besides it felt good... Really
good! I couldn’t stop if I wanted.
She finished me off in record time and were she a cat she would’ve
washed her whiskers. She was smug. She stretched that lazy way she had
that made her breasts and belly do wondrous things while watching me for
a reaction. I was exhausted. She made a little sound of disappointment
in her throat. It was amazing how much she communicated without words.
“Bits, we need to talk. I uh... I didn’t use anything last night and...
uh well, did er... do you,
you know... use anything”.
A bucket of ice water couldn’t have produced a bigger reaction. She
stiffened, turned to face me and said, “You don’t have anything to worry
about mister... It ain’t your problem.”
“Whoa! What did I say? God I didn’t mean to step on your toes. If I said
something wrong, I’m sorry. Bits, c’mon. Don’t be mad. I’m just worried
about you...” I trailed off as the iciness of her reaction set in. I
have never been so confused in my life. Women!!!
She looked at me in disdain. She grabbed her case and retreated to the
bathroom. I wanted to follow her. I could hear her sobbing through the
thin walls. What had I done to make her cry? I felt like a complete
boob, but I didn’t know why. Nevertheless I had to get cleaned up, so I
grabbed my shirt and shoes, slid my Levis on and knocked on Willie’s
door. Clara answered sleepily with the bed sheet wrapped around
her.Willie was still laying in bed suckin’ on a cheap cigar as was his
early morning thing. I
barged in past Clara saying I was only going to use the toilet.
Scrubbed a bit and mouth defuzzed after using Willie’s toothbrush and
mouthwash (we are real close friends), I emerged to questions I had no
answer for. I gave them the Readers Digest version of Bits’ reaction.
Clara said, “Don’t worry. She’s got some funny streaks. She’ll be over
it by the time you get back. Just don’t mention it again and you’ll be
OK.”
“Mention what? What the fuck did I do wrong?”
Willie was laughing quietly. I threw a pillow at him.
“You and your women problems,” he chortled. “You remember the time you,
me and Mr. Clean got those three broads at our bar that wanted us to
take them home and we finally did? That one you had with the tits for
brains... What was her name?”
“Karen... her name was Karen. Why?”
Willie turned to Clara and talked as if I wasn’t there, “Romeo here had
this chick that had boobs out to here...(he indicated an improbable
dimension) We all went to this apartment one of ‘em had and each of us
went into a different room. Mr. Clean and this chick... Oh he’s about
400 pounds and she wasn’t too far behind... They went in the living room
to use the couch. The broad I was with musta owned the place ‘cuz we
went in the bedroom with the squeaky springs. Way and this blonde bimbo
head for a mattress she had stashed in the attic part. Hell, we wasn’t
over ten feet from each other. Me and the broad got done and was having
a joint, listening to them. Mr. Clean was wheezing like a locomotive and
his girl was squealing like a pig. Way had his broad all but singing.
Man, did she get her kitty off. She was telling Way how wonderful he was
and how great he felt inside her. She asked him for a cigarette and he
musta tried to pull out ‘cause she yells at him ‘Don’t take it out’ and
he sez, ‘Damn lady, what do you think I got... A telephone pole’?”
Willie broke up laughing like he had that night. Clara laughed too. Her
sheet slipped a bit more and one of her boobs peaked out. It was a
pretty good size. I caught the flash of a hickey. Willie had fun last
night.
“Yeah,” I replied, “But do you remember Mr.
Clean rolling off the couch and puttin’ his foot through the
rotten floor into the apartment below? And the old broad that lived
there yellin’ she was gonna have him arrested for trespassing?”
Willie was on a roll, tears streaming down his face as he gasped, “Yeah,
all the while she’s jabbin’ him in the ass with a broom until he yells
at her, ‘ If you want a piece of my ass just ask for it, don’t scratch
like a dog.”
“Man its a good thing we knew them
cops..”
“Yeah! It pays to have friends in high places.”
I just couldn’t delay any longer, I went next door, but I had forgotten
the key. I thought about going to the office for a spare, but I decided
not to as there would have to be explanations and a lot of identifying
since I wasn’t the one who checked in. Bits had! I knocked on the door
softly. It opened slowly and then slammed open. I suddenly had an arm
load of sobbing female. Like I said she didn’t weigh much. I carried her
back in, her arms entwined around my neck. Her face was leakin’ tears
and I was getting soaked, but I didn’t mind.
“Oh, you came back. You didn’t leave me. I was so worried. Don’t leave
me... Please, please, please... I’m so sorry, I’m so....” She broke down
into sobs that were making me a bit misty. God, how could I be the tough
guy if she could make me break down too. I sat her on the bed and
kneeled in front of her. If I wanted to propose I was in the right
position. But I didn’t...or did I? I was getting dangerously close to
the “L” word. I hate it when that happens.
As calmly as I could, I held her face and looked her in the eyes, “I
didn’t mean to say anything wrong and I’m sorry if I hurt you. You
little dickens, your starting to mean a lot to me and I don’t want to
jeopardize anything we have going, even if it turns out to be nothing.”
I kissed her softly.
She responded to the kiss. It was sweet and loving and hungry and all
the cliches brought to life. “I... I’m sorry too Way. I got so scared
when I came out of the bath room and you were gone. I... I’m not very
good with relationships and I wanted you to like me so mu...”
I put my fingers against her full pouty lips to stop her talking. She
hugged me fiercely . I loved the way her body fit against mine and might
have crushed her a bit.
A voice came from the doorway. It was Willie and Clara. “Hey let’s get
somebody to eat and get this fuckin’ day started!” I grabbed Bits
battered case and carried it to the Pontiac. I threw it in the back seat
and locked the doors. I went back in and flopped on a chair, smoking
another Camel, as Bits repaired her face and she and Clara chattered.
I stood up. Bits grabbed my hand in a death grip and leaned into my arm
as we walked across the parking lot to the Pancake House. It felt like
she belonged there. I couldn’t have been happier. I knew I had some deep
feelings I had to explore and analyze, but they would have to wait. For
now I was content. |
