Robert Joseph McGregor or “Bobby Joe” as he was known to his family, waited nervously at a seedy downtown Bus Station in Tallahassee, Florida. The once handsome aeronautical engineer was now greying at the temples and showing other signs of wear and tear. The life he’d ended up living after his marriage ended had definitely aged him. Worse than the physical ravages of time were the mental scars he now bore.
“I…I hope I’m doing the right thing Pete.” He said quietly to the burly man carrying his bag.
“It’s the only thing you can do Bobby…you know that.” He responded.
A rare smile crossed Bobby’s lined face as he nodded his head in agreement. Bobby wasn’t sure where he would be if it weren’t for Pete St. John. Once his boss, now his sponser and best friend in the world. Maybe his only friend in the world, or so it seemed to Bob.
Pete St. John knew there was an element of risk involved in this cross country bus trip for Bobby. Maybe nine months was too soon. But the aging used car lot owner knew there was no time like the present. Bob needed to do this more than anything he’d ever done. There was still a glimmer of hope for him. For Pete, that made it worth while.
Pete knew his friend’s life was virtually hanging in the balance as the smoke belching bus pulled up. Bob did his best to affect a confident aire as he turned to say goodbye.
“Well, wish me luck Pete!”
“You make your own luck in this life Bobby.” Pete simply replied.
Bobby’s face softened and he took a deep breath. “You always manage to say the right thing Buddy!” He said, shaking his head.
Bouyed at least somewhat, Bob began to slowly climb the stairs up into the bus. The limp he’d acquired during his days on the streets in Miami complicated even simple things like this.
“One step at a time Bobby!” Pete called from the walkway. “One step at a time.”
Bob didn’t audibly reply but nodded in acknowledgment of the comment. He made his way to a window seat near the rear and peered outside, hoping for one last look at his friend and mentor.
Barrel chested Pete St. John was there, like he always seemed to be, waving back.
“Got that phone number?” He shouted.
Joe pulled the business card from his shirt pocket and waved it for Pete to see.
The usual array of characters eventually wandered onto the bus. Most people flew on airplanes these days. Hell, A DC-7 would deliver him to L.A. in only about eight and a half hours! Trains, once a staple of American travel, were now generally reserved for those either afraid of flying or blessed with enough time to be able to “Enjoy the ride.”
Nobody on that westbound Greyhound really had any notion of enjoying this trip. But they all had a reason to travel and this was the cheapest way to go.
Bob continued to watch his older friend while waiting for the passengers to get settled. It was as if he wanted to soak up as much of his influence as possible before, once again, he was on his own.
Pete St John had no intention of leaving before the bus did. You didn’t have to be a mind reader to understand the turmoil that Bob McGregor must have been experiencing right then. Twenty years of sobriety had placed Pete at a different point on this journey. But he’d been where Bob was now…and he knew it wasn’t going to be easy.
The South Florida heat was beginning to kick in now and the bus had a hot stretch ahead. There were just a handful of well wishers still assembled as the bus began to slowly pull away. They waved and called to the passengers until the coach finally managed to pull onto the main road and headed out of town.
Bob tried his best to keep his mind free but now, finally en route to California, It was hard not to think of the life he’d left behind there seemingly eons ago. “Little Christina, or ‘Tina’ must be a teenager by now.” He mumbled to himself. And Pam…
Suddenly, Bob was fighting back tears again. To think he once had the committed love and devotion of a woman like her…it was almost impossible to believe now. What a mess he’d made of his life. Bobby pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and blew his nose, hoping to clear his head.
The countryside slowly moved past as the bus eventually hit the open road. It was about then that Bob’s mind finally, against his will, began to drift back to that seemingly innocent summer day. “The beginning of the end!” He sardonically thought. Ike was still president, the Dodgers were still in Brooklyn and he was married to the sweetest woman that ever lived. Then…one balmy summer day, everything changed.
With his wife and daughter gone for the day, Bob McGregor was getting his golf clubs ready for a round later that morning. He noticed the neighbor lady from across the back fence. She was up on a ladder trying to harvest oranges from one of the trees in their back yard. Joe smiled at the sight. Lucy was dressed like always in short shorts and a flowered blouse that she tied at the waist…Island style!
Bob isveçbahis had seen the pretty short haired blond many times just over the fence and Damn! She looked good! Supposedly her husband traveled a lot and never seemed to be around. Lucy was personable and thought nothing of asking Bob for help starting the mower, adjusting the screen doors…little household chores.
Bob didn’t mind a bit! It gave him an opportunity to check her out right up close! Those short shorts really showed off her ripe little butt cheeks which he really got a kick out of. Pam insisted on wearing a panty girdle which pretty much took all the “Swing and Sway” from her rear. Not Lucy! “If you’ve got it, flaunt it!” was apparently her motto.
“That’s a lot of trouble to go to for those sour oranges there Lucy!” He called to her. This housing development had been built on the site of an orange grove and the planners decided to leave some trees in place to avoid that “New Tract” look.
“Look! You can harvest all the oranges you want! The salesman had told them when they were considering the house. Like all midwesterners, Bob and Pam were smitten at the sight of the bright oranges hanging down from the branches. It just seemed so…California!
But the first taste of the oranges dispelled that myth completely. They were horrible! You had to sweeten a glass of home squeezed orange juice with several teaspoons of sugar…just to make it drinkable! “The trees are only good for so long and then they lose their flavor.” He was told by a longtime resident.
The tight bodied little housewife looked back at Bob and smiled. “What do you mean? They’re great!” Lucy then reached up for a particularly juicy looking orange just above where she was balanced on the ladder. The ladder began to tip and she was barely able to keep from toppling over.
“Hey now! Don’t hurt yourself!” He yelled. “Wait a minute, I can help out here!”
Bob quickly went to fetch the gizmo he’d cooked up when they first moved in. Basically a tomato can nailed onto a one by two pole about 10 feet long. He’d used tin snips to cut a slit in the can. The sharp metal edge would cut the stem and the orange would fall in the can. You could easily retrieve the highest oranges on the tree without them falling to the ground and splitting open.
His marvelous “Orange cutter” had ended up outside the garage by the trash cans after he found out even those succulent, tree top oranges were bitter. But, what the hell! He’d have a chance to go flirt with that little blond again!
So Bobby carried the device through the back gate and over to the tree where Lucy was still struggling.
“Try it the easy way Honey…” He teased. Bob proceeded to demonstrate the effectiveness of his creation, easily plucking orange after orange from the tree and depositing them, unharmed, in a pile on the lawn.
Lucy stood there on the ladder, hands on her hips watching. “Oooo! Mr. Smartypants!” She laughed. “All you need is a lab coat and some Harpo Marx hair Mr. Einstein!”
Bob moved around the tree ending up next to the ladder where Lucy was situated above him. He hadn’t intended it but, when he looked up for more oranges he found himself looking up the slightly flared short shorts Lucy wore.
“Heh Heh!” He chuckled as he continued to maneuver the orange picker. Lucy was busy selecting oranges for him to snag and wasn’t paying attention so Bob got a long leisurely look up at Lucy’s shapely thighs and even the pale yellow panties she wore.
“Boy! What a babe!” he noticed. Her husband must be nuts to travel all the time and leave this ripe young thing alone. Her butt cheeks began to peek out the bottom of those little panties as Lucy bent forward and pointed out another candidate for harvest.
Bob marveled at the perfect creamy smooth look of her long legs. She must shave those things every day to look that good…” He figured. Lucy settled back onto the ladder and then turned around to descend. When she did so, Bob was treated to a brief look at the front of her panties. More specifically, the barely discernable little furrow of her panty covered pussy!
“Now Bob…That’s not for you to see!” She jokingly admonished him. “Don’t you be looking under there!”
Beet red at being caught sneaking a look, Bob was relieved to hear she didn’t seem particularly angry. She held out her hand as she stepped down the ladder and Bob took it, gallantly helping his shapely neighbor climb down from her perch. He thought he noticed a slight squeeze as she let go of his hand and she kept eyeing him all the while.
“This is quite a contraption you’ve cooked up Bob.” Lucy said en route to check out the device. “So you just…nailed this can up in here and…” As Lucy began to reach into the can, she sharp edge designed to cut the stem accidentally cut the edge of her palm.
“Ouch!” She cried, quickly withdrawing her hand as blood began to seep from the razor thin cut.
“Oh Hell, I’m sorry Lucy! I should have warned isveçbahis giriş you about that.”
“It’s no big thing Bob.” Lucy responded, holding out the injured hand. Bob pressed his fingers to the cut to stop the bleeding. “I’ve got some band-aids inside. Really…it’s no big deal.” She proceeded to lead Bob into the house as her blood seeped out from where he held her and trickled onto his fingers.
Once inside, Lucy retrieved a can of band-aids from above the stove and watched as Bob dabbed away the blood and applied the dressing.
“Really Lucy…my fault, I’m sorry!” He repeated. The whole point of the cut in the can was to be sharp. That’s how the whole thing worked. But she didn’t know that. How stupid was he not to warn her?
“So now you get to add ‘Doctor’ to your impressive list of credentials!” She said as he finished patching her up. “Sit down there for a minute, I’ll fix us some orange juice.”
Bob rolled his eyes. “Here we go again with the orange juice bit.” He thought. “C’mon Lucy, you must have tried those oranges. They might have been good a few years ago but Whooh! They’re just too sour for eating nowadays!”
“What are you talking about?” She shot back. “They’re great! We eat them all the time!”
Bob shook his head as Lucy went back to squeezing the oranges in the juicer. She was a fine hunk of woman but, apparently not too bright. His oranges were all but inedible and somehow, only a few yards away, her oranges were from a different orchard? Made no sense. “Oh please!” He chuckled.
Lucy cut one particularly bright orange into sections and reached one slice out to Bob. “Here Mr. Smartypants! Try it!”
Bob was struck by the sight of the pretty short haired blond as she held out the fruit to him. Her good sized tits falling out of that flowered blouse…those well packed shorts. She was smiling seductively at him as she continued to offer the orange slice to him.
“C’mon try it. They’re sweet…I swear.”
Bob noticed her deep brown eyes flashing at him. They seemed to have little yellow flecks in them. Sometimes they appeared to shoot out light, almost like a cat’s eye when the angle was just right.
Somewhere, deep in the recesses of his mind, Bobby began to get the impression that maybe he shouldn’t be here right now. This knockout blond was looking better and better by the minute and obviously she was…friendly.
“Well what the hey!” He finally accepted the offered orange slice and brought it to his mouth. With Lucy looking on with obvious interest, he bit into the juicy pulp of the orange. It was sweet! Sweeter in fact than any orange he’d ever tasted! What the hell? He swallowed his first bite and proceeded to devour the rest of the fruit, marveling at its remarkable taste.
“They must have fertilized your trees or something.” He mused, knowing full well that was impossible.
Lucy filled two tumblers with ice cubes and poured the freshly squeezed orange juice in on top of them. She then reached up in the cabinet over the ice box to fetch a bottle of vodka.
“I’m gonna have a little cocktail here Bob. I hope you’ll join me.” She looked right at him when she said it. Bob liked a can of beer and drank wine from time to time but rarely drank hard liquor. He’d slurped down several rum and cokes one time at a fraternity party and was later shown photos of himself dancing on a table with a prostitute the frat brothers had hired that night for “Entertainment!”
“Well I…I guess one won’t hurt.” He knew it was a mistake. why couldn’t he politely decline? He somehow felt…different. It was hard to pinpoint but…
Bob reached out for the glass Lucy offered. As she bent down to hand it to him, he briefly saw her bre encased tits beneath her shirt.
“Oh there you go again Bob! Looking in places you’re not supposed to!”
By now Bob knew she was flirting and didn’t seem to mind at all if he looked. He raised the glass to his lips and drank. It was cool, sweet and refreshing.
“Man! That’s…that’s pretty tasty Lucy! He had to admit. Lucy continued to smile and watched as he thirstily gulped down the cocktail. “What do you call one of these?” He asked.
“A Screwdriver.” She replied. A little smile crossed Bob’s face. Like he was back in Junior High or something. “You said ‘Screw!'” He thought to himself.
Lucy saw his reaction. “My goodness Bob, you have such a dirty mind!” She was kidding of course but Bob returned to his drink and downed the rest in one gulp.
“Here, let’s have another…” She was already mixing up two more before Bob could beg off. Then he realized something: He didn’t want to beg off! His golf game seemed a million miles away now. It was just him and this hot little peice of ass. Yeah…that was an accurate discription, wasn’t it?
Lucy poured a bit more vodka in the second batch than she had in the first round and they began to drink and talk. “Now, where are you originally from again?” Always a good conversation starter isveçbahis yeni giriş since virtually nobody in California was native.
Bob began to tell his life story, the abridged version, as Lucy listened intently. Bob found himself leaving Pam out of the narrative as best he could. No reason to bring her up right now. That could…complicate things. Next thing he knew there was another screwdriver sitting in front of him.
“These’r damn good Lucy!” He was now doing the best be could not to slur his words as he spoke. “What’r they called again?” He asked mischievously. He just wanted to hear her say it, and they both knew it.
“It’s a Screw…driver…” She enunciated each word seperately. “Just like that thing between your legs!”
“Ha ha ha ha!” They both laughed together.
“Yeah, he’s been known to drive a screw here and there!” Bob responded to her sly comment. He grabbed his drink and took another swallow. “Yep…these things are damn refreshing! Almost can’t taste the booze.” Drunk now, Bob needed to pee badly!
“Uh…need to use the little boy’s room Lucy.” He said as he stood. “Right down here?” He pointed, “Jus’ like in our house?”
“You got it!” Lucy replied smiling broadly. “They’re all the same floor plan on this street.”
“Ha ha ha ha!” They laughed together again as Joe hurridly headed down the hall to the bathroom. He hoped a few moments alone would clear his head. Wow! Those screwdrivers really pack a whollop!”
Now it was time to get out of here. Fun’s fun, but he was a married man and couldn’t very well be foolin’ ’round with little miss Shorty Shorts. She sure was fine though. A silly song about “Who wears short shorts?” Leaked into his head. “She wears short shorts!” He chuckled to himself.
Bob finished his business and checked himself in the mirror. “Looks like a drunken idiot” he couldn’t help but notice.
As he made his way into the kitchen he saw another round of drinks sitting on the coffee table. And Lucy was flashing that dynamite smile at him again. “Everything come out OK?” She innocently asked.
“Wha ha ha ha!” Now everything was funny. “Oh well, one more won’t hurt I guess.” He said nodding at the drinks. “Don’t look like I’m golfin’ today anyway.”
The thiry one year old “Young Man on the Way Up” couldn’t have been more right.
“Need more ice in there Bob?” Lucy asked as she brought the ice bucket to the table. She leaned over and used her silver tongs to add a couple more ice cubes to Bob’s drink.
Bobby McGregor was loose as a goose by now and ready to feast his eyes on those nice, bra covered titties…except Lucy’s bra…wasn’t there! He blinked his eyes to be sure he wasn’t imagining things but…No! Lucy’s nice big tits were swaying free beneath that loose filling blouse, her nipples poking out into the gauzy fabric. She appeared to have undone another button too.
“Are you looking in there again you naughty boy?” She teased. “Honestly!” She made no move to straighten up either. She fiddled with the ice cubes some more and then looked up to be sure where his eyes were fixed. The tempting blond seductress saw the glazed over expression on Bob’s face and knew her plan was working.
“Is the view a little better now Bob?” She spoke quietly. Gone were the nervous giggles and boisterous laughter of just a few minutes ago. “I took off my panties too Bob. Wanna see?” Without waiting for an answer, she undid the buttons of her shorts and then pulled down the zipper, slowly showing him her belly button and then the secret flesh below it. Down…down the zipper traveled with Bob’s gaze locked on it until a patch of fiery red pubic hair was revealed!
“Oh my god!” Bob blurted out when he saw Lucy’s pussy hair. His penis had been back and forth between piss hard and rock hard for a half hour but there was no mistaking which direction it was heading now!
Pleased to see his transfixed reaction, Lucy unbuttoned her blouse and gently pulled it open. When she’d finished, Bob’s eyes moved up to view her big firm tits…gently swaying to and fro now. She had large, silver dollar sized areola with pointy pink nipples in the center.
“So, can I see your big…Screwdriver Bob?” She teased. “It’s only fair!”
Lucy quickly moved to the crotch of Bob’s black golf slacks. She easily undid them and in no time had freed his now completely erect penis. She began to fondle it lewdly, piercing his eyes with her salacious gaze. He noticed that cat eye thing again. Almost as if she could see right into his soul. Or he could see right into hers…maybe both.
Realizing what was about to happen, Bob grasped valiantly to the final shred of Christian decency that somehow hadn’t abandoned him.
“Lucy…Lucy, we can’t do this…” He started.
“Do what?” Lucy looked a bit unpleasant for the first time. “We aren’t gonna fuck, Bob. My pussy’s only for Stan. But…” Suddenly that little sex kitten smile came back. “But we can play around a little can’t we?”
“Play around all you want Baby!” He laughed. He’d been overpowered and he knew it. He glanced at his hand and, for some reason, noticed Lucy’s dried blood stain was still visible on his fingers. “Why fight it?” He reasoned.