The Reunion Show – part 4
If you’re not 18 or older, blah,
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After what seemed an eternity it
stopped raining. Not that I really cared. It didn’t take me
long to warm back up once I got into the hot tub. All of us were
yentering in the tub when someone brought up the topic of the other two
girls, Tracy
and Samantha. We all wondered when they were coming in.
“I think that they’re coming in from
out of town; maybe out of state. I can’t remember” Jessica said.
“Do y’all keep in touch or
something?” Charlie asked.
“No. I just heard that they
moved away some time ago.”
“Hey Mike, isn’t that shirt gettin’
on your nerves in this tub?” Deanna said, smiling.
“Not as much as you are” I
replied and in an instant thought, ‘oh shit, I don’t even know her,
where’d that come from’, so I just laughed real loud and said “Just
bustin’ your balls, hun. Didn’t mean to be rude; sometimes
smart-ass comments come out before I can stop them. Don’t take it
personally.”
Deanna looked at me for a few seconds
and said one word. “Bitch.” We all laughed at that and I
mentally wiped the sweat off of my brow. I have no idea what made
me say that. I’m just an asshole, I guess.
“You know it really is getting on my
nerves.” I felt kind of awkward and was content to leaving my
shirt on until ding dong said something. I took it off and sat
back. I guess I didn’t have to be shy anymore since I was no
longer a bean pole. I guess it’s just something that you don’t
ever get rid of. Oh well.
“I think I’ll do the same,” Scott
said, and he proceeded to take his shirt off. Oye vey! I
think that it’s pretty clear by now that the feelings of anger that I
had toward him when I was younger were gone. He seemed like a
really friendly guy and someone that I could easily slip into a
comfortable friendship with. Top that off with the fact that I
was attracted to him and you have….well, I don’t know what exactly
you’d have. But I was definitely attracted to him. I knew
that I was going to have to keep my lustful feelings in check.
I’ve learned from experience that lust can sometimes get in the way of
good clear thinking (ahem, ahem).
But then the shirt came off and all
the good, clear thinking went out the window. He had a beautiful
chest and was really quite toned. You could tell that he paid
attention to his workout but he didn’t look like a ‘roid’. And
while he didn’t have a 6-pack of abs (like my 10 pack) his stomach was
nice and flat. All of that was covered with hair. I think I
got farblondzhet (for those of you unfamiliar with yiddish terms, it’s
pronounced “furblungit” and means “all mixed up” – I love Yiddish
termonology!) looking at him. I was dying to stare at him but,
no-no-no, Mikey’s not out of the closet and we’re on television.
Plus I didn’t want to embarrass him by drooling all over the
place. That would have been messy of me.
“Hey, do any of y’all want to show me
where the liquor is? I’m not into champaigne and I’d like to make
a drink that I really dig.”
“Hey, I’ll show you,” and Freddie got
up out of the tub. He and I went downstairs and into the kitchen
where there was a mini bar set up. I hadn’t noticed it when I
first arrived.
“So Mike, where are you living now?”
“I’m in Marietta. How about
you?”
“Vidalia.”
“As in the onion, Vidalia?”
“That’s it.”
“Well what brought you to the booming
metropolis of Vidalia, Georgia?” I asked.
“Onions!” He said
laughing. “My grandparents had a farm down there forever.
My grandfather passed away when I was a sophomore at State so I moved
down there to help Grandma run everything. When she passed away a
few years ago I decided that I really liked the small-town way of life
and country living, so now I’m an onion farmer.”
“Well, you don’t smell like onions” I
said.
“Oh Vidalias are sweet.”
“I know. I was just making a
goofy joke.” Ay-yi-yi. Gotta get this one trained.
“Ahh. Well the drink glasses
are in here” he said pointing out the cabinet “utensils are in this
drawer, and here’s the liquor. What are you going to make?”
“It’s called a week at the beach, and
it’ll really knock you on your ass. Hey does this place have any
tunes?”
“Yeah man check this out.”
We walked over to the entertainment
center that had a ton of equipment. Big-screen t.v., DVD player,
CD player, and some other things that I hadn’t a clue as to what they
were. Freddie turned on the stereo and some great 80’s tunes were
playing on Star 94.
“What’s that?” I asked pointing to
something that looked like a cd player.
“That’s actually a cd burner.”
“Burner. You mean it smokes
weed or somethin’?” Ok, sometimes my humor is stupid, even when I
hear it out loud.
Freddie looked at me like the moron I
was. “No, you can actually make, or burn, cd’s of your own.”
“No shit?”
“Yep. I don’t think that this
one makes mp3’s, but it’ll make .wav files.”
“What’s the difference? I’m a
teacher; I’m poor so I can’t afford these kind of tricks.”
“Well, basically an mp3 is a
compressed version of a wav file. When you buy a cd the type of
file you’re listening to is called a wav file. What radio
stations play now are mp3’s because they are about one-tenth to
one-third the size of the original files. If you go into a studio
you’ll never find the old albums or even cd’s like they used to
play. Everything plays off of a computer.”
“Well I’ll be damned. That’s
pretty cool. But how do you even get an mp3 file?”
“Come here and I’ll show you.”
Around the side of the entertainment
center was an area of cabinets that opened up to reveal a computer that
had internet access.
“Check this out” Freddie said as he
got onto a webpage. “This is a website that allows you to share
music with other people.”
“Dude, I’m new to this whole internet
thing.” And I was. I had a computer at home but it was
basically used to keep track of grades and make lesson plans. My
other time was spent managing my stable of man-whores.
Freddie went on to explain what
eventually would become the whole “Napster” fiasco before they were
sued, and how someone could download music onto their own
computer. Once it was on the computer they could transfer it to a
.wav file on the contraption over near the television which would put
the songs on a regular cd that you could listen to in any cd player.
“Well hellfire. That’s pretty
cool!” I said “So I could look for a song here, download it
to the computer and then burn it to a cd, that I could turn around and
listen to on my cd walkman?”
“Yep.”
“Now how cool is that.” I
looked at him for a second and said, “Not a lot goes on down in
Vidalia, does it.”
He chuckled and said “Why?”
“Well, for an onion farmer you know a
lot about electronics, and obviously your time isn’t taken up by a lot
of social activity” I said dryly. I was joking with him and
thankfully he picked upon it.
He laughed a bit at that.
“Actually I was going to college to become a studio engineer, so a lot
of that I picked up along the way. I’ve always been into music
and hoped that I’d have my career in production someday. You can
learn a lot from music. It always has something to say.”
This statement was to become sort of Freddie’s motto in the apartment.
“Ah. I see. Well baby, I
needs me a drank (yes, “drank” – it’s all part of my goofy
persona). Go fetch me some orange juice and cranberry and we’ll
all get drunker ‘n cootie brown!”
I proceeded to whip up my specialty
drink. 2 parts orange and cranberry juice, 1 part vodka and 1
part peach schnapps. Oh my! I fixed a couple of pitchers,
Freddie grabbed some glasses and we headed upstairs.
“Alright y’all! We got some
drankin’ to do!” I announced once we got to the hot tub. Deanna
had snuggled up pretty close to Scott and was talking in lower tones to
him. “Well ain’t you the comfy little ho!” I said to her
laughing.
“I’m trying to be.” Scott
started to look a little uncomfortable as she laughed and smiled up at
him.
I just rolled my eyes. “Honey,
you’re gonna get that nasty women’s disease if you keep doin’ like
you’re doin’.”
Deanna out a huge laugh. “Nasty
women’s disease! What the hell’s that?”
“Well, you can tell us in a few
years” and I kicked water on her. Everyone laughed at that.
“Alright then, now for the drink of the day. My mighty
concoction.”
“Your going to give us your
concoction?” Scott smiled.
I paused for a minute and said “Baby
after a few of these you might even be offering me yours!” Again,
laughter from the tub. “That doesn’t mean I’ll take it, mind you,
but you still might be offering.” Yeah, right. Gotta keep
that “straight” disguise going. I guess one way to describe my
sense of humor is that if you took Carson and Thom from the show “Queer
Eye For The Straight Guy” and put them together you’d have my humor and
delivery.
“So what’s the drink, Mike?” Jessica
asked.
“It’s a Week At The Beach, aka Sex On
The Beach.”
“Funny, I’ve never had sex on the
beach from a guy” Scott grinned.
“Well I’d have brought sand but
didn’t know which side your bread was buttered on, stud.” He
burst out laughing at that. Oh, the joys of flirting with
straight guys.
The drinks were flowing quite
well. Everyone loved my “standard” as it became known that
day. After a couple of drinks I was feeling quite tingly!
The conversation changed from one thing to another. We learned
about where each other was from, who was married, who was
divorced. Nobody had children yet. I guess as a kid it
would have sucked to have your mom or dad gone for 8 weeks, so I was
glad for that.
“Hey, how did y’all find that secret
door anyhow?” Scott asked. “I was only downstairs for a few
minutes and y’all had all disappeared by the time I came back up.”
“Charlie was looking at some of the
books on the shelf and went to take one off.” Deanna said.
“He noticed that the shelves seemed to shake or rock or whatever and
that’s when we discovered that it opened up.”
“Cool. Well that explains
that. I didn’t even know that we were going to have a hot tub or
else I’d have brought my swim trunks.”
“Same here” I said. Now if he
wanted to get nekkid that was fine with me, but instead I just said,
“Now don’t y’all go getting’ any ideas to get in here in the
buff. We don’t want to spread them nasty women’s diseases
around.” They all laughed at that.
“Hey Logan, that sex was good enough
to drink twice,” Scott said.
“Baby, mine usually is,” I said in a
mock-sultry-yes-I-really-meant-what-I-said-voice. “Or in your
case, four times.”
“Hey man I only had one.”
“You had one big bullshit, because I
saw you drink three.”
“Damn. I didn’t think anyone
was watching” he said smiling.
I had a good buzz going and knew I’d
better get out of there quick before I said something I
shouldn’t. He locked eyes with me as I was getting up and I
almost fell over onto him but I steadied myself.
“Uh oh, looks like Logan needs a
chaperone” Deanna said.
“Not from you, gal.” She flung
water at me and laughed.
“Keep that up and I’ll kick your ass”
she said.
“Keep that up and we’ll get along
just fine, baby.” I replied. You could tell that this girl
was sharp and she had a great wit about her. I was liking her
more by the minute – and by the drink too.
I got out of the hot tub, wrapped a
towel around my waist, grabbed the now-empty pitchers and headed back
down. I was feeling somewhat tipsy and it wasn’t even dinner
yet. Oh well, screw it, I thought. I got the liquor bottles
from the bar and set them on the island which overlooked the living
area. I stood there looking out the window at the skyline.
What a great skyline it was! Is! To the south is the
Peachtree Plaza which is across the street from what I always thought
of as the temple building. It’s a building a bit taller than the
Plaza and had what looked like two temples at the top, hence the
name. Duh. Then heading up Peachtree Street was another
building by a locally-famous developer where the old St. Francis Hotel
used to be. Then in mid-town you’d see the Southern Bell, the
Bank of America building and the IBM Tower (lovingly referred to by a
friend of mine as a gothic penis) as well as a few other mid-rise
office buildings and Colony Square. Further north from that was
the area known as Buckhead where all the yuppies lived. I loved
my city.
Enough daydreaming. I turned
from the island to get the juices from the fridge and before I could
stop myself ran smack into a wall….again…..a Scott Dell wall. He
was right behind me and when I turned I ended up with one hand at his
stomach and the other on a pec. I almost messed in my pants.
“Whoa, sorry dude,” I said.
“Didn’t hear you come in” and I quickly took my hands off of him.
I could have stayed like that forever, though. Sheesh!
“I was just enjoying the view,” he
replied, smiling.
I turned back around and faced the
windows. “Isn’t it awesome?”
“Oh, I thought it was terriffic.”
“Dude, you like those weeks at the
beach don’t you. Pal, you’ve had about a month's worth.” He
laughed. I was starting to pay more attention to his laugh.
It was really nice. I’m sure my becoming buzzed had nothing to do
with it at all.
“Sex, Logan.”
I turned and looked at him.
“Yes, I have it from time to time.” Oh douchebag! Mentally
I rolled my eyes back in my head. Sometimes I say the stupidest
friggin’ things!
“Goofball. I mean the
drink. I’d rather call it Sex On The Beach.”
“Well, alrighty then” I stood back at
the island and started mixing the pitchers of drinks.
“That way when I say ‘Logan, I want
some sex’ you’ll know what I’m talking about.”
I shook my head and grinned.
“Hey Scotty, we’re on t.v. remember? Let’s not let all of our
secrets out, k?”
He laughed out loud at that.
“Sorry man, I haven’t eaten lunch yet and I’ve had two of those things
already.”
“Three.”
Smiling, “You don’t miss anything do
you.”
I cut my eyes at his pecs and looked
up real quickly. Come on gay guys, you know you do this
too. Try to steal glances even if the guy’s looking right at
you. And then you let your eyes wonder around a bit to try and
disguise the fact that you were just looking at his schwantz. Of
course the drool hanging from your lip gives you away.
“I try not to miss a thing.”
How flirty could I get here? I’d have to play it by ear.
“In that case,” I continued,” I’ll have to make these a little
stronger.” I got a big grin from him on that one. Perfect
teeth.
Oye, this is going to be along 8
weeks!
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Ok y’all. What do you think so
far?
Let me know your thoughts, if you
don’t mind. mlogan6969@hotmail.com
Mark