John Kellerman - Balling cousins

The further down the road I got, the better I felt. The windshield wipers slapped the rain off the glass and after a mile or so I plugged a tape into the deck and turned up the volume. No damn girls were gonna keep me from California!

The streets were vacant in Westmount as I idled through, but the rain had slowed and by the time I got parked, there were only a few random drops hitting the sidewalk. I gazed longingly at the nearest bar, wishing I were old enough to walk in and get a drink. A little alcohol would make me feel better right now, I figured. But it was a dream. Not only was I just seventeen, I looked it, too. A cowboy came out of the tavern and leaned against the wall. I watched him light a cigarette and flip the match spinning into the gutter. Then he puffed blue smoke into the air above his head. The rain had stopped completely now and I got out of the car. A crazy idea was rolling around in my head. Would that cowboy buy me something to drink?

I knew if I stood there undecided too long, he'd amble on down the street and I sure wouldn't get anything to drink. What the hell, it wouldn't hurt to ask. I walked up as casually as I could and nodded hello when I caught his eye.

"Watcha say, curly," he drawled, eyeing the way my hair half-covered my ears.

"Uh, well I was wondering if maybe you'd do me a favor."

"Depends on jest what that favor might be," he said.

"I'd like something to drink and if you'd buy it for me, you can get something for yourself, too." I stood there hoping he wouldn't take offense because I was just a kid.

The cowboy eyed me carefully. Then he pushed himself away from the wall. "Don't see why not. Fella needs a drink sometimes, don't he?" He slapped me hard on the back. "What you want now?"

"A fifth of bourbon and a s-s-six-pack of beer," I stammered, pulling a ten-dollar bill from my pocket.

The cowboy's eyes widened a little and he grinned bigger than ever. "Say now, you sure do want something to drink, don't ya, podner?"

The way he'd called me podner made me feel suddenly generous. "Why don't you get a six-pack for yourself?"

"That sounds fair enough," he chuckled, taking the cans.

I watched him study the bill on both sides. Then he sucked a tooth and looked around like he didn't want anybody else to hear him. "You wouldn't want a little something else to go along with all that hooch, would ya?"

"What do you mean?"

"Aw came on, son." He gave a sly grin. "What goes best with whiskey and a hard-on?"

I managed a smile. "A girl?" I hadn't even considered the possibility in a town the size of Westmount. And anyway, whores kind of scared me. Not that I'd had any experience.

"Ten more bucks and you've got a blonde that'll curl your foreskin."

I didn't bother telling him I'd been circumcised. The cowboy saw me hesitate, and sucked his tooth again.

"I wouldn't bullshit you, son. This chick is wired for pleasure. And she just loves young ones like yourself."

The way he said it it was almost a challenge. Without thinking any more about it I peeled another ten out of my pocket and shoved it at him. The cowboy gave a short nod and disappeared into the bar. In less than five minutes he was back on the sidewalk, a big paper sack in his arms.

"Here's your booze, I wrote the address on the top of the six-pack. Her name's Sheila. Just follow the gravel walk around back and knock on the screen." He pushed his hat to the back of his head. "Sheila'll probably want another five from you, but you look well-heeled enough to manage that."

"You said it would only be ten…"

"Gotta keep the governor in whiskey, too." The cowboy laughed and slapped his thigh hard.

"Well… thanks." I held out my hand.

"You ever need anything else around here, just ask for Jake."

There were only four or five streets in Westmount, so it didn't take me long to track down the little white frame house with the right number on the door. The flower box in the front window and the bright-red shutters made it look awfully homey for somebody who fucked for cash, but the black Corvette in the driveway said different.

I sat there awhile, trying to get the nerve to get out and go on up. I even considered just leaving. Especially since it was going to take another five dollars of the money I'd been saving for California.

But shit, I'd already made a ten-dollar down payment. There was no use letting it go to waste.

My heart was thumping pretty fast as I went around back and tapped on the screen. When no one came, I tapped again. The longer I stood there the less I wanted to go through with the whole thing. I was just about to turn away and head back to the station wagon when I heard footsteps inside. When the door swung open, my mouth fell. She was the tallest chick I'd ever laid eyes on, and with only a bath towel wrapped around her boots and hips. Her blonde hair was cropped close to her head, but she looked plenty feminine just the same.

"HI, honey, I didn't hear you the first time, I guess. Jake called to tell me you were coming. I was in the tub freshening up."

I swallowed hard and tried to think of something to say, but my mouth was cotton dry. "I'm Ross," I finally mumbled.

"I'm Sheila. Come on in and make yourself at home." She rubbed the towel against one covered tit.

I followed Sheila into the front room of her small cottage. There was a stereo against one wail and a big stack of records. A homemade bar separated that room from the kitchen. It was hard to believe I'd finally met a girl with legs as long as mine. Her body was too trim for her to be very old, but there were wrinkles at the corners of her eyes. I put the bottle and six-pack on the bar.

"Put that beer in the fridge if you want. I see you brought some hard stuff along, too." She headed for the bedroom. "I'll slip into something and be right back."

With the Budweiser stowed next to the freezer compartment, I broke the seal on the bourbon and poured me half a glass. I tried it straight the first time, but got the shudders and quickly took an ice cube from the bucket on the bar. I sat there on a stool and watched, waiting for it to melt. When Sheila drifted back into the room, she had on a filmy nightgown that stopped halfway down her thighs and draped from the nipples of her tits in loose folds. There was a silk tie around her waist that let me see bow fantastic her shape was. She was so tiny around the middle that it made her look all ass and tits. She was a piece all right, just like the cowboy had said. But so damned big. Nervously I remembered jokes about guys getting their backs busted from fucking wild women.

Sheila slipped up close beside me and fluttered her lashes. Two green eyes twinkled brightly into mine. I quickly calculated that she was only an inch shorter than I was. That made her six foot even.

"Hope you like 'em tall, baby," she simpered, licking her wide, full mouth. "But then you're pretty tall yourself." Sheila glanced at my hair. "Say, you ain't one of them hippies, are you?"

"Guess not," I said, shrugging. "Lotsa guys wear their hair long nowadays."

"Wouldn't matter to me if you was. I was just hoping you might have something with you to smoke." Her eyebrows twitched and she smiled knowingly.

It was my chance to show Sheila how cool I was. Luckily I'd rolled a fat joint before coming to town and stuffed it in my billfold. When I dug it out and laid it on the bar in front of the tall blonde, she clapped her hands together, then kissed me wetly on the forehead.

"Why, ain't you just something else, now!"

Before I could say anything, Sheila had reached a match from a shot glass full of them and struck it on the bar. The heavy odor of grass filled the air as she took a huge lungful and held it down. I knew right off she was no stranger to smoking Mary Jane.