Thursday, October 8, 2009

That Year in Arlington....

"A year went by…
- left me wondering in the corner
2 years...
- and I thought only time can heal
5 years...
- wondering for the answer
7 years...
10 years...
- question still unanswered
I guess it doesn’t matter anymore
It was just a moment of time
of pure innocence and laughter..."

- Anonymous

By Patrick Alcatraz
Editor

ARLINGTON, Texas - She would laugh uproariously, push her arm out to run her fingers through my moptop hair and then reach for her hamburger to bite it in a sexy, sexy way - all mouth, tongue sweeping her lips. I was in college - the year before I got married - and we were at a joint called Blossom's barely three blocks from the campus. Lillian worked her magic on me that last year, when her husband would leave her for days while he worked the traveling salesman act across North Texas for some pharmaceutical company. She had come to me.

Who knows how it came to pass, but Warren Zevon's song "Excitable Boy" always reminded her of me, or, well, that's what she would tell me when we met after classes, when we would walk over to my friends Bob & Darlene's house just down the walkway from the student center. She would wonder about having sex with me in the beginning in a stranger's home, and then she would dive into it with the vigor of a panther. I always thought her husband was stupid for not tending to her needs. Lillian was some three years older than I was at the time, the mother of two daughters under 10 years of age. Yes, I'd drive to her house in West Arlington, on Little Road off I-20, way after their bedtime and stroll in to find Lillian in her nightwear, folding clothes until we lit-out for the bedroom at the far end of the main hallway. Sometimes, I wouldn't even give her time to slip out of her thong. We were hot and we were going upstream.

But there was more. The student thing sat well with me. My broadcast class had me working a script for a 30-minute radio drama and Lillian had joined the cast. We recorded the damned thing during an all-nighter, and then she and I went at it out in the Communications Building parking lot. The title of the show was Western Brouhaha, a silly thing that also starred most of my friends in voice bits that drew genuine laughter while they recited insane lines like, "Rita, bring me muh jeans..." in the post-coital scene. Thrown in for more ridiculousness was a river of sound effects that included a protracted sound of rifle gunfire. It was college.

The times were okay with much of what I was doing. Women seemed plentiful in town. We rolled with the punches and the yesses and the nos. Lillian would drive over at every opportunity, walk up the stairs of my place and arrive tanned and ready in short shorts. Her auburn-gray pubic patch threw me to the ceiling, me playing the willing sexual lunatic - a hellbent fucker out to please. We were high before the blowjob started kickin' in, absolutely. I was stunned to see Lillian naked the first time, mainly because as a tallish chick, she wore her body well. Later, I'd let her fall atop my nakedness and let her do as she pleased.

Who knows what became of Lillian? I went after my career in Journalism, rarely came back, and never heard from her again. Life is funny that way. Me? I grew to see these things as different films to be acted out, as no doubt most guys do. It is when I line these women up on some mental stage that I see them standing there naked in their bushy triangle pubic patches, all prideful, some covering their breasts, others their crotch, a few smiling, none of them throwing the finger at me. What a time it was.

If only I'd have had them all on the same night, in line and smiling, walking up to do their part for Mankind...

- 30 -

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