Against the Grain

Against the Grain

Brent Waldo

AuthorHouse™

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© 2012 by Brent Waldo. All rights reserved.

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Published by AuthorHouse 03/22/2012

ISBN: 978-1-4685-7280-3 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-4685-7279-7 (hc)

ISBN: 978-1-4685-7278-0 (e)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2012905419

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Contents

Black Velvet and the Bandit

Stormy Seas and Strippers

BB Guns and a Hump in the Truck

LSD and a Homecoming Queen

Double Standards Kick Ass

A Quick Look Back

The Serious Chapter

Island Style

All the Right Moves

Alaskan Nipple Hair

Knife Fights and Skinny Dippin’

Badges and the Beanstock

Teamsters and Piggy

Delta Ta Southern Hospitality

Grams and Flight School

Revenge On The High Seas

My Guide

And So It Begins

Black Velvet and the Bandit

My buddy Scott and I talked one of his older brothers into buying us a pint of Black Velvet and when you’re fourteen that’s a shit load of booze. So with our bottle in hand and my dog Freckles following close behind we made the four mile walk to the movie theatre. You know, kind of like those kids from Castle Rock in Stand By Me, except we were meeting hot chicks, not walkin’ the railroad tracks lookin’ for some kid that got side swiped by a train. We cruised through the playground at our old grade school with all its familiar surroundings and made our way down into the woods. We knew every trail for five square miles and could damn near make it the whole way there jumpin’ fences and stayin’ in the brush. Kickin’ rocks and drinkin’ firewater, we talked about becoming Air Force fighter pilots and flying to exotic places all over the world. We lied about girls and taught each other all we knew about how bra sizes worked and shared our expertise on French kissing and feeling boobs.

My cheeks were flush, the air was full of all those great summer smells, and I didn’t know it, but, for the first time in my life, I was maybe a bit tipsy. And I also had no inkling, that just over the horizon and around the bend, my second huge first of the night was spring loaded and ready to pounce.

For the life of me I can’t remember what movie we were going to see. Not that that detail is important to this story, but, damn it would be cool if I could recall. So let’s just say were going to see Smokey and the Bandit. Hell yeah, we were east bound and down holdin’ up for nothing. After a week’s worth of fibs we finally made it, tied my dog to a post outside, bought our tickets and stumbled in.

And there she was, with her hair feathered, way too much spray, and LA gear high tops—the gal I was there to meet. She was playing Ms. Pac Man, and sipping an ice cold cherry Coke thru a red licorice stick—so cool.

We’d been eye-ballin’ each other at school for a few months and so I finally asked her out. I’m not going to reveal her name for reasons that will soon become all too obvious.

After I kicked her ass in video games and we had all the normal first date awkwardness, it was time to head in and grab our seats.

To my right sat Scott and his date. I looked over at him about fifteen minutes into the show, and I remember not being able to figure out why he was squinting at the screen, he had one eye open and his head cocked off to the side? It was a talent I wouldn’t master till I was at least sixteen or seventeen. And to my left, there she sat, all shy and angelic and cute as a whip, whatever that means.

It all started, when I put my hand on her knee and gave it a little squeeze. I’m trying to remember as accurately as possible how this whole thing went down, but the years may have polished away some of the finer details. If you’re out there reading this and you’re HER, just know I’m trying my hardest to portray this as it really happened.

The idea was to test the reaction I got from touching her leg, and then of course I would proceed accordingly. But what happened next caught an unseasoned dumb-ass like me completely off guard.

She looked at me, smiled, reached over and started unbuttoning my 501s. What’s this? You’re about to stick your hand in my pants? This can’t possibly be happening to me, not that I mind, because I really don’t, but still… . We are in a movie theatre. My heart was thumpin’ so loud I was afraid people were going to start yelling at me from six rows back, Hey just cause your about to get your first hand job doesn’t give you the right to ruin our movie. We can’t hear shit over the beating of that thing, and we’re not talking about your penis, ya inconsiderate little bastard! Heavens to Betsy and holy mackerel all wrapped up in one, was this really for real?

We were surrounded by people, my hand was on her knee, and her hand was on a collision course with my wiener. I’d been thinking about this my whole life and it was about to happen, and I just couldn’t believe it.

We were boob guys and, Hey I touched her nipple over the top of her bra kind of guys. This thing was about to catapult my young life into the next stratosphere. Together she was going to take me into an otherwise unexplored region, a vast expanse, the surface of Mars for all intents and purposes.

And then she touched it! Oh my, she was touching it and squeezing it and pulling it and son of a bitch, it was the best moment of my entire life. She had a death grip on the little fella’ and was treating it like it owed her money, and I couldn’t wait to pay the piper. This beat the hell out of getting my first dog (the one tied up outside), scoring my first touchdown, jumping my first fire on my little sister’s bike after soaking her tires in gasoline… , this beat it all hands down, and hell yeah pun intended. It couldn’t possibly get any better than this could it? Oh yes it could!

She took her left hand, unbuttoned her own jeans, took my hand off of her knee and put it in her area. Now listen, I could talk a big game at this point in my life, but walkin’ the walk was a whole different kind of animal, and this was getting serious. She was forcing my hand, (again pun intended), and I was powerless.

Now what the hell was I supposed to do? It was like your first time at some fancy dining establishment when you’re just not sure what fork to use, or when? And then, for the love of all things girlie, I could feel panties! Holy crap these were panties on a real girl, not panties on page 43 of the Sears catalog! Then her pubic hair… my first brush with a bush… I must say, it was shockingly wiry. In all the pictures I’d ever seen of the evasive bush, it was all cozy and warm looking, like it had a snuggle factor of ten. Like if you were to go camping in the mountains a bush would be a vital part of your cold weather emergency survival kit. But, in real life, it had a menacing texture—almost angry. For just a split second I thought maybe I’d dropped my hand into a pit of coiled cobras, and they were all poised to strike as a group, a highly trained team of sinister assassins.

Don’t get me wrong, I was in first timer’s heaven. Much like the first time you reel in a salmon on your own (okay, maybe not the best analogy.) Better yet, it was like your first time scuba or skydiving, there really are no words to adequately describe the feeling, and then she pushed my hand lower!

That’s when super-natural things started to really happen. I could feel things down there that were hot and slippery and alien to me. I didn’t know what to do? Should I push on that, or wiggle this? Then she nudged my hand even lower and started to move her hips like maybe I was doing something right? I remember thinking Isn’t this where the pee comes from? I was pretty sure I was in the general vicinity? It was all happening so fast I was trying to remember what the guy did in the last Penthouse Forum article I read, dang it, I knew I should’ve paid better attention.

Then my feet started to get hot and tingly, and this feeling was spreading over my entire body like some out of control Eastern Oregon wildfire being stroked by thirty-knot winds. She seemed to know what was happening and was in full control, had the bull by the horns if you will. Me on the other hand, I felt like maybe I was being transported out of my body to some town known simply as, Fuckin Awesomeville!

The movie screen tilted sideways and all sounds ceased to be heard. It seemed at that moment the space and time continuum really did exist, and for that very second, my whole body was trapped in that unexplainable gray area, electric, not of this world. Like the best roller coaster ride ever multiplied a hundred times over. Like that first bite of a really good steak or a three beer buzz—you know, when it never really gets any better no matter how much you eat or drink. I was poised on the precipice of perfection, a place of beauty and grandeur paralleled by an amazing light show and for the first time ever, someone other than me was at the controls. It was AMAZING!

Then just as the tremors began to subside and I realized my hands were clenched tight enough to bend iron, I was rudely jolted back to reality when my boy Scott jumped up and scampered for the door. She was still working her magic, but now that I’d been to the mountain and back, I was a little sensitive to the touch and more than a little embarrassed. I wasn’t used to having other people around when this particular event occurred. Then I realized this wasn’t the happiest place on earth anymore. And when I looked at her now, she wasn’t nearly as pretty as she was twenty seconds ago. How could this be? I pulled her hand out of my pants, jumped up, kicked over someone’s soft drink and mumbled something about the bathroom as I ran towards the exit. It was the teenage prelude to, No, really, I had a good time, but it’s best if I just went home, ya know, with having to work early and all.

My mind was swirling and I was buttoning on the run. I made it to the lobby just in time to see Scott throw open the big front doors of the theatre revealing a huge line at the ticket booth. He took three steps towards my tied up dog and barfed all over Freckles back. People gasped, little kids cried, and my dog was lapping up regurgitated Black Velvet and popcorn like he hadn’t had a thing to eat or drink in months.

So I gathered myself and did what any red-blooded American kid would do if he’d just had his first orgasm at the hand of another while watching Smokey and the Bandit on the big screen: I untied my dog, grabbed my puking buddy and we hauled ass for the safety of the trees and the trails.

Welcome to my story!

Stormy Seas and Strippers

Years before, when I was just a kid, my parents up and moved us from a quaint little suburb of Chicago to Washington State. Let me tell you, all the rumors you’ve heard about it raining all the time in the Pacific Northwest are absolutely true. It’s beautiful, awe inspiring and all that, but if you can’t handle the rain, don’t bother coming to visit, ever.

I cut my teeth in the shadow of Mt. Rainier and the beautiful Cascades. My two sisters and I spent almost every summer with my parents’ on our twenty-five foot Bayliner, cruising the Puget Sound, exploring the San Jaun Islands and venturing north into Canada. It was cramped quarters with all five of us aboard, but we made do. More times than not we often spent a month or two at a time living off the sea’s bounty. We explored places not a lot of kids are privileged enough to see. It was beyond description the things we did and saw all those summers on the boat. Magical wouldn’t even begin to do it justice.

I still chuckle, when I think about my mom in that tiny galley on her yacht, cooking on a small gas stove, with limited light, in the freezing cold while my dad got our beds