Reunion 1993 Pt. 01

"Is it me or are your tits like a lot bigger?"

"Ah yeah, two breast-fed babies and twenty-five years bigger," I smiled. He motioned with his free hand to lower my top further.

"Incredible," He said softly. Stepping up the action on his Johnson, his lower lip protruded into a pout when I hesitated. "That really DOES help. I'm getting close," he bargained. It worked.

"Oh JESUS!" His eyes bugged out when I lowered my dress top to fully reveal myself. Fully jacking his average sized tool much faster, I took hold of each boulder to kiss and lick my nipples. [I had to admit, I still delight in exercising such control over guys.] Still keeping my eyes peeled for interlopers, I gave poor Tommy a full boob production complete with slapping, rolling, and biting. Soon he was about to jump out of his skin.

"If you don't watch out, you'll ruin Mister Armani", I whispered with a smile.

"Oh SHIT! I-I don't have a handkerchief! OH SHIT! "OH GOD, NO!" He yelled with a sense of panic in his eyes.

The only thing worse than an escort sporting a hardon is an obvious cum shot in his crotch. I probably had a grand total of two used tissues in my purse, hardly enough for a catch-n-clean. Reaching over I put a vice grip on his cock. That should ward off any immediate leakage.

"If you tell a living soul about this Tommy, you're dead meat," I warned and reassured him with a mother's steely stare. Holding his breath along with any other urges, he quickly nodded. Making one final check of the parking lot, I lowered my head, opened my mouth and took his glazed dick inside. Slowly easing my grip on his tool, I felt a surge of warmth hit the back of my throat.

"OH GOD -- OH SHIT! FUCK YESSS!" Tommy stiffened and yelled, as another burst of cum filled my mouth. Swallowing every bit of residue from the first two explosions, my natural impulse took over. Sucking and jacking his throbbing wiener to totally drain him was soon accomplished, much to his relief I'm sure.

"GOD DAMN BAR-BIE! You are TRULY incredible!" He announced ecstatically.

"Thanks, you're welcome. Don't mention it...seriously, DO NOT MENTION IT...EVER!" I restated, fixing my straps, checking my hair, and pulling on my coat.

"Baby, my lips are sealed," he smiled, zipped up and leaned over for a kiss.

"No time for that. Park over there with the rest and DON'T call me Baby," I demanded. [pissed at myself for having to resort to giving half-witted Tommy a blowjob and letting myself enjoy it.] Reapplying some lipstick and checking for any collateral damage, I was ready to forget the incident.

Party Like It's 1968 +++++

Tommy re-parked the Impala as directed and helped me out, just as Jimmy and Alma drove in and parked next to us. As it turned out, the four of us went in the side door of the school gymnasium together, so I really didn't need to feel nervous about us making a grand entrance after all. Once inside the guys took our coats and went to fetch some drinks; that's when things got shaky.

From the instant I peeled off my long coat I sensed a complete dead silence. Perhaps the band was between numbers but that could have been coincidental. My choice in wardrobe was drawing glares from everyone in my line of sight. Both the women and the men initially shared opened mouthed wide eyed expressions at my appearance. The only difference was the women's initial response soon turned into faces of disgust and eyes loaded with daggers. Indifference to their spouses, the men responded with wide grins and lust-filled smiles. Talk about love/hate.

I glanced around for friendlier faces, when Alma sidled up beside me. "Well, I guess there is no question who the belle of this ball is. Hey, pretty corsage!" She said and gave me a wink.

"Is it too much, a little over-the-top; not too stylish, is it? I asked.

"Honey, slutty whore is NEVER out of style!" She remarked in a voice-of-reason tone.

"Tell ya what, if James doesn't jump your bones tonight, I'd certainly like a shot."

"Hell Alma, I thought they were staring at you!" I answered and stood back to admire her white, backless halter-topped dress. "You look fabulous--very Hollywood!" [That country frock she wore earlier was a piss-poor indicator of her true attributes. This lady, in her late thirties, had quite a figure.]

"Hollywood right! I suppose I could have gone with the whole galaxy look, but I could never compete with those globes, Baby!" She laughed, like she'd already tested the punch bowl.

"ALMA! What's gotten into you?" I snickered, as she fluffed her skirt and swayed to the oldies the band was laying down.

"Nobody yet, but hope springs eternal, I always say," she was already borderline tipsy. "That Tommy sure cleans up well! You suppose he would object to a blow job?" She said, completely out of character.

"Ahh, I seriously doubt it. That reminds me. I need a drink," I was trying to erase a recent memory, when I felt a tap on my shoulder. "Wood! You made it!" I exclaimed at seeing a true friend amid the gawkers.

"Have you heard them? They're murmuring vague obscenities," Woody said in a low voice, referring to the coven of former cheerleaders.

"The ones with the 'clear-skinned smiles'?" I followed her lead in my low voice.

"Exactly!"

"Now I'm as big a fan of Janis Ian as any suicidal teenager, but leave it to you to quote the only pop teenage angst anthem ever written with a record number of three and four-syllable words."

"Oh, so you'd rather I used 'They sprinkled moondust in your hair of gold and starlight in your eyes of blue'?" She quoted lyrics from the ever-popular 'Close to You' song from the Carpenters, before taking a slug of what appeared to be some sort of Martini.

"Much better; gotta keep things light. Gimme a taste of that," my eyes pleaded. At that point I REALLY needed to rid my mouth of the taste of Tommy. "Oh my G-GOD, that's G-GIN!" I nearly gagged.

"Why yes Ma'am, isn't that what Ma Lady ordered? Hey, what a pretty corsage!" Woody quipped.

"Here, take this nasty thing. Go back and give Willis a hard time," I said, somewhat thankful to replace one grisly taste with another.

"Shit Baby, I didn't know you wanted a Martini. I'll be right back," Said Tommy about to hand over my Vodka-seven.

"No, wait Tommy. I don't really want a Martini. This will be fine," I stopped him in mid-stride. As he turned the jostled drink splashed up and nailed me right on my boob.

"Oh shit!" Tommy panicked. Alma stopped her tribute improvisation to Isadora Duncan to try to clean the spot with her hand.

"Oh shit is right. I'll be right back," I said walking away.

"Here, use this," Tommy pulled my arm, to hand me his handkerchief... his HANDKERCHIEF!

My eyes locked on the hand handing me the cloth; then up into his eyes. "Come with me Mister Phillips would you, please. We need to have a little talk," I strongly suggested with all the tact of Vice Principal and took him by the wrist.

"Gosh Miss Rogers, here you are taking me off to another dark corner. What can this mean?"

Hauling him off to the far side of the gym and away from prying eyes, I shoved the folded handkerchief in his face.

"Yeah so, so I forgot I had one. What's the big deal?" Tommy smirked.

Slowly unfolding the cloth, I explained, "The name is Bodecker. Missus Bo-deck-er, you shit head! You played me so you could manufacture a memory of tonight, didn't you?"

He nodded sheepishly.

"I think you need a memory with even more of an impact. Here, hold this," I instructed him to hold the opened handkerchief up to cover his face.

"What the hell?" He started.

I interrupted. "Just my little version of Blind Man's Bluff..." I said. "...except I ain't bluffing."

Before he could utter another word, I closed my fist, reared back and punched him straight in the nose. The blow wasn't hard enough to break it, but definitely hard enough to give him a vivid memory for the rest of the evening. As expected, his mouth flew open to scream aloud. That's when I stuffed a good portion of the falling handkerchief in his mouth. Bent over at the waist in pain, he continued to hold the cloth to catch any blood. There wasn't any.

"Here you can take this too and shove it up your...imagination," I said and threw the corsage in his general direction.

A flock of flickering flashbulbs lit my way back to our group. "You know I never intended on being the focus of attention," I said grabbing an astonished Jimmy by the arms. "Jimmy, I need you to dance with me."

"O-Kay," He sputtered and took me to the hardwood.

"Alma... ALMA! Wake up!" I yelled at the tipsy dishwater brunette. "From here on in we're trading dates. I hope that works for you!" I followed up. With a two-handed grasp on her drink, she turned in Tommy's direction.

"J-just for tonight?" She stammered and smiled.

"YES DEAR, now you can go pick up the pieces." I laughed and let Jimmy take me in his arms.

Stay With Me +++++

Jimmy and I danced to 'The Duke of Earl' without sharing a word. About halfway through the song he finally spoke, "I had no idea you'd developed into such a take charge person, Barbie."

"Yeah well, I'm afraid the years have taken their toll on any patience I might have had as a kid. Like most everything, time changes us all," I reckoned. He nodded.

"I'd say time has done wonders for you! I mean, you were always quite a catch for any enterprising lad, but now..."

"Now what?" I pushed him.

"Now... va-Va-VA-VOOM!" He finally gave me the biggest smile. "You give a true definition of the term hourglass."

"Oh God Jimmy, you'll make me blush," I batted a flirty lash.

"Something tells me you're not the type that blushes, unless you deem it beneficial." He surmised.

"Hmm, perhaps I like saving my blushes for enterprising lads," I teased and slid closer to him. "Now don't tell me you're not enterprising?" I asked, rubbing my cheek against his.

"Not really... I guess that ended about the same time my career as a lad vanished," he thought.

I felt his warm hand edging up my bare back and sensed him taking a healthy whiff of my perfume. The song ended. We untangled and started to walk off when a faster song stated.

"Wow, I love Tom Jones! Stay with me, Jimmy!" We both knew I meant for him to join me for another dance. However, his eyes met mine and locked. It was like one of those syrupy romantic movie moments when two lovers share an epiphany in a matter of a few frozen seconds.

"Well she's all you'd ever want, She's the kind they'd like to flaunt and take to dinner. Well she always knows her place. She's got style, she's got grace, She's a winner. She's a Lady. Whoa whoa whoa, She's a Lady. Talkin' about that little lady, and the lady is mine."

I extended my hand to grasp his. The scene slowed to a frame by frame set of heartfelt glances. It was almost like I could hear him saying, "If you had only said, 'Stay with me' those many years ago, how different our lives might have turned out." His eyes shifted briefly to scan the gym for his wife. I looked too, to see her trying to soothe Tommy's wound. Our clasp broke and my hand brushed his suit pocket.

"Why Jimmy, did you bring a camera?" Rolling his eyes he nodded and smiled.

"Here, take my picture! It will be fun!" I laughed to bring us back to a lighter side. He reached inside his vest and brought out a Canon Sure Shot and held it up to focus.

"No, no, take me by the bleachers. [God, did I really say that?]" I scampered (as much as a woman can scamper in three-inch heels) over to pose in front of the bleachers. "You got it?"

"Yep, perfect!" He smiled and thanked me. Sliding the camera back into his pocket, we turned together to finish our dance.

The band kept us on the floor dancing to fun tunes from the late '60's and 70's. Tommy and Alma got their act enough together to finally join us. After several drinks, Tommy offered me his version of an apology, along with another Vodka-seven. We decided on a truce which, in all honesty, more resembled Reagan's 'trust but verify.' Except for an occasional run in with Woody and her well-liquored Willis, we stayed pretty much to ourselves and had a great time.

The Long Hall +++++

Taking a potty break, I ran into Roy Baker on the way to the restroom. "Well HELLO! Excuse me Miss, but the class of 1978 doesn't meet here for about ten years; you're early," he delivered his prime pick-up line for the evening. [He doesn't recognize me. My first thought was to set him straight, but decided instead to walk on by and let him fully check out my ass.]

In the restroom, memories from the past drifted back into my brain. I remember well, it was good ol' Roy who was the architect responsible for trying to blacklist me from the drive-in. Back then, if you had any sort of peculiarity (like a case of acne), the bullies would pounce on you like hyenas. Since the designated hyenas personally assigned to my case were the hi-profile cheerleaders, it was odd that a jock would join their pack. By the time I finished up in the restroom, I'd worked myself into a vengeful state. All of those Vodka-sevens clearly helped to fan the flames.

The "Long Hall", from the gym to the restrooms, was aptly nick-named. With a bunch of classrooms lining the inner wall, the extra length made one feel like you were being schooled in a frigging airport. Actually, there were toilets in the showers adjoining the gym, but they were locked off from the general public; besides they were notoriously gross. Stepping out of the restroom, my fancy gold strappy sandals began the long walk. My echoing clip clops were soon answered with the sound of another set of heavier footsteps.

"Hey, HEY, slow down, Barb!" It was Roy catching up to me. He'd obviously had a brain fart in the boys' room. "Barb, isn't it? Somebody mentioned some foxy dish in a gold dress. Like wow, you look fan-fucking-tastic!" Keeping up a steady pace, I smiled up at him for an instant. Without a reply, I continued the long walk. "No more crater face," He called after me. I swore at that point I distinctly heard a straw breaking a camel's back.

Spinning around on my heels, I came to an abrupt halt to face him. "Yeah Roy, isn't it amazing what time and a good dermatologist can accomplish," I replied with an elusive smile at the winded ex-football star.

Catching his breath while trying to hold his gut in, Roy was still the epitome of a typical jock caught up in himself. Except now, after countless cocktails and cigars, his shallow facade was pathetic. I rethought my revenge and almost pitied him...almost. "Maybe you and I should..." he started.

"Should what, Roy?" I batted my eyes and edged close to his tall frame.

"Ya know, like maybe later, we could..." Yanking his tie, I pulled his neck and lead him into the nearest vacant classroom. Twin security lamps, mounted high in the corner offered sufficient light for my purpose.

Leading him to the front row of seats, I let go of his tie. Keeping my eyes glued to his, I backed up. Feeling the teacher's desk hit my ass, I seductively lowered one of my golden straps. "You know something Roy, there was a period of about two weeks in my junior year..."

"Yeah, Baby?"

"Y-yeeah, I had this super hot crush on you," I bubbled and gushed.

"For REAL?"

"Oh for real! But you never seemed interested," I pouted and let the strap down.

"Wow! I always thought you had like this killer body..."

"Yeah, but being a crater face, I just didn't have EVERYTHING, did I?" I winked and edged a finger between my heavy hooters to slowly pull down my satiny dress.

"WOW! Tell you what; you've got everything NOW!" He exclaimed, quickly discarding his sports coat.

"You think so? You don't think my tits are too big?" I asked rhetorically; lining my upper lip with my tongue for the proper seduction.

"Oh GOD NO...I mean they're...YOU're perfect!" He self-corrected and unzipped his trousers.

"Show me Roy. Show me you like me," I urged him, while I shook and fondled my melons for his amusement.

Whipping out a half-hard, unexpectedly average sized cock, he started jacking it for my approval. I approached him slowly; turned sharply about a foot from him; hiked my dress up and bent over to splay my tits on the desk. Bending my knees to shake my ass for him, I turned my head back to check his expression. It was priceless. I couldn't be absolutely sure, but I swear the asshole was actually drooling. Making bigger circles with my fine toned bottom, I felt his hands take hold of my ass.

Just his touch made me almost gag. There was no way this clunky bastard would EVER get a piece of me. As I twisted and broke free from his paws his hand must have caught on my sheer panties. They tore away like Saran Wrap and I completely lost track of them. [I'm sure they'll be a great show-and-tell for Monday morning's Geometry Class.]

"Oh Roy, no. I want you to come first, Baby," I demanded and swiveled back around.

"Huh? Ah yeah...yeah Baby, whatever you want." The brain-starved jock would have forced his pecker into a pencil sharpener at that point.

I hunched down in front of him to simulate titty-fucking his now rigid tool. "Oh yeeah, Baby. Do it faster, Baby. Come in your hand, so I can taste it. That's it, that's it...harder!" I teased him relentlessly, until I was sure he'd pop a gasket. "Faster, FASTER! God, I want it SO BAD, Baby!" I urged.

Good ol' Roy glaring down into my once-cratered face stepped up the pace until he finally let out a stifled yell and deposited a healthy load of white hot man glue into the palm of his large hand. I edged back on my heels and stood up. Fixing my hem, I slid my elastic straps back over my shoulders and re-seated my boulders. "Hey, I thought you wanted this," the overweight jock stood pathetically trying to zip up with one hand.

"Oh, I want it, for sure! Come here." I took hold of his cream covered paw at the wrist. Holding it up for inspection, I twisted his wrist around and placed his sloppy hand firmly and directly in his face. "Dick wad! That should just about make us even, "I laughed.

"Hey, HEY! Bitch. You can't get away with that shit!" He puffed and sputtered. While he fished for a rag, I calmly walked to the door.

"I just DID! Check out a mirror Crater Face!" I bellowed and slammed the door.

My heels clipped clopped and echoed down the long hall--a little faster perhaps, but more confident than I can ever recall.

Road Trip! +++++

After sharing sneers with Mary Ellen Schmitt (now a sad, emaciated dyke on crack) at the punchbowl and several dances with Jimmy and Tommy, I took a breather to assess my so-called girlfriends from high school: Marie Anderson and her never ending caboose now had the admiration of absolutely no one; string-bean Julie Fisher married twice going on her third marriage to another truck driver; and Carrie Ferris (the snob queen) referred to herself as a trophy-wife, while her fudge-packing millionaire hubby hit on the younger boys in the band.

They were all unhappy, envious women leading sad unfulfilled lives. After twenty-five long years, there was very little I had in common with my old classmates but faded memories. Why they had the nerve to treat me like I'd just peed in their drinks I had to chalk up to the green-eyed monster.

I began to feel like I'd been put adrift in a dingy floundering in a sea of desperate souls--how depressing. I had yet to speak with even ONE person (including my buddy Natalie) who was truly happy. I knew the longer I stuck around the more Vodka-sevens I was sure to put away. I had to leave this sorry scene, before I turned into the atypical reunion drunk. When Jimmy, Tommy and Alma pulled me away from a dead-end conversation with my old English teacher, I was definitely relieved. "Well it took you guys long enough to save my sorry ass. Let's get the flock outta here!"