Friday July 23, 1988
Nick is with Geena’s group at an understandingly full showing of Die Hard. None of them got carded even though the box office clerk is in his class at school, Allan just grinned in a way that seemed to wish him luck with his fine date.
The rhythm of this week really did fall around her piano schedule, since she would practice at the church on her own on Tuesdays and Thursdays, plus get ready to travel several counties back to her college on Sunday.
Yesterday centered around filling out the application for Casper’s Grocery and tracking down a couple of references. Deke of course is his all-star, but then he called Marci, partly to see if she would be willing and also to see if any updates.
She pointed out two things,
a) Just call one of your teachers, most of them are in the book and love to be references. Nick can’t believe he didn’t think of that.
b) The Staas’ were supposed to head back yesterday and will get back sometime over the weekend.
And so he left a message for their chemistry teacher, who he will likely see next week at the funeral.
There’s no hurry to get hired, and he would have to get a work permit from the school office once hired, evidently it’s case-by-case.
This morning Nick ran errands and swung past Stass’ for probably the last time before they get back. The pile has grown a tad since Wednesday, but still an impressive showing. That gave him an idea, so he got to the florist just before they closed for lunch and picked up a pink rose.
And so tonight he agreed to join a group activity for a couple reasons, partly to help redeem their intense alone-time and also since it meant a lot to her, those big eyes are hard to turn down, dammit.
It turns out her folks are pretty laid back and they had good chemistry, they know his own parents from the church world and so there weren’t a lot of questions, well, despite last fall’s adventure, and yes Geena can cook, not surprisingly. She whipped up a goulash, something Irene hadn’t done in a while, the peppers seemed very fresh and they had plenty of the Kraft crumb-cheese in the green can.
It also turns out that couch is a nice slate blue, but that’s not where they spent the evening. The basement is partly furnished and partly storage behind paneled walls, and there’s a cozy older sofa and TV hidden away down there. This felt like a set up as they settled in to watch the one and only Harry Caray do his thing from the booth as the Cubs took the field, and it’s evident that she wants to neck during commercial breaks. This goes on for about an inning and a half before she whispers if she can do some more research, then calmly undoes his belt and digs out her little friend.
And so with her head mostly facing away she figures it out, which moves get a response, slurps a couple times, apologies if he jumps, but takes her time and even explores the twins a little. Nick is starting to wonder if he’s being tested somehow, but again, he understands the need to experiment. With that, he tries to explore a little beneath her denim skirt but gets his hand removed and at one point gets gently bit till he gives up.
When the finish seems close he gyrates a little, and she starts using her hand, and it’s not long, she accepts it with a slight mmmm and consumes every drop.
After planting another peck on the spent soldier she looks up and smiles, “How’d I do?”
“I’d say the eagle has landed.”
“That tasted kinda buttery. Should make my hair shiny, right?”
Nick has to laugh, then packs himself up and checks the score, not that he really cares at this point.
She takes a swig of her drink from supper and swishes it around playfully before giving him a peck, then it turns out there’s a little half bath down there and she hops in there, he hears a flush and he’s partly recovered and gets an idea.
When she takes her place next to him, he puts a hand gently on her thigh, “Your turn, my dear.”
“WHAT?”
Nick slides onto the floor and puts a hand on each of her knees. “I want a taste.”
“NICK! You can’t be serious. I just peed!”
Nick just raises an eyebrow.
This gets that inhaled huff and that adorable wide-eyed glare of hers, but she relents,
“You’re incorrigible, you know that? But my panties stay on and, well, stay outside, know what I mean?”
“Of course,” then begins kissing her knees, thighs, and gradually works his way downtown, which is warm and pretty sensitive, so he tries to be gentle. His only geographical reference is from those trashy magazines they used to find on bike rides, but he has an idea somewhere in the middle is what she wants, but he just kinda takes swipes once he gets her spread, she really is tangy as she smells, soft pillowy lips, and so far she seems unsure of this, until,
“OH…right there.”
And so he continues, but pretty soon,
“Easy…easy…”
So he tries to go easy, and seems to find a balance, finds a rhythm, she holds his head, he holds the outsides of her thighs, and eventually,
PUFF
“SORRY!” After a couple deep breaths, “I think my eagle just landed, Nicky.”
So he pecks her tender hood and slides back up on the couch, and she leans on him for the ninth inning and dozes off.
And so, tonight is for group stuff so they can mellow out and keep it above ground. Although, when he presented that rose he made a sly double entendre regarding her promised land and got the huff-and-glare for his trouble.
On the way to the theater she messes with the stock AM/FM radio and finds Richard Marks crooning Hold On To The Night and leaves it there but low enough to talk over.
“Did you mention finding certain magazines on the side of the road, what, from your bike?”
“Yeah or sometimes they get stashed under rocks here and there until someone steals ‘em. I never brought one into the house.”
“I wouldn’t think you would. Are they really….like, nasty?”
“Usually just the ones they sell at a gas station behind the counter, the feature the crappy stories and like nudie events, although, well, one time it was a biker mag.”
“Oh don’t those usually have some scenery?”
“Yeah there was a centerfold, but she was obviously a model or, well, built for the camera you might say, and tan all over. But the other gal was just, well, an every day babe, had tan lines and just messing with tools in a shop, she even held a wrench up to her, well, a nibble.”
Geena had worked into quite a laugh at this point, “Every day babe, huh?”
Then at some point later muses she needs to work on some tan lines of her own.
Once the movie starts, Nick finds it interesting how the church youth-group types generally avoid using R-rated language but don’t hesitate to consume it. He could do without the intensity and especially all the blood - how would someone survive that level of exsanguination? But in those moments he tries to get in a nibble or two since he’s on the far side of the group, but she playfully avoids it.
They agree on Friendly’s for shakes and Nick drives carefully in Ned’s pickup, they agreed he could use the practice and it’s way cooler than a wagon. Nick was pensive and Geena seems to have caught on.
After the final lesson this morning they sat on the front step for a few and she related calling Danni.
“She seemed distracted when I mentioned your name, but says she’s doing as well as expected these days.”
And now, he’s distracted.
The rest of the evening goes as one would expect, three of each gender and pretty fun group and so Nick just politely keeps quiet. One of the guys had some questions about starting guitar when that came up but it was good to just listen, especially as the weight of the next few days starts to set in.
The standout is Greg, actually a couple classes ahead of Geena at a different college and even more steeped in activity, but seemingly tireless, genuinely gregarious (no pun intended), quick with the humor. Thankfully Greg keeps the conversation going and brings Nick in from time to time,
“So you’re awful quiet, what do you think?”
“Oh no one’s paying me to think.”
Which gets a heartier laugh than he’d expected. A few times he thinks of a story that might fit in here or there but doesn’t feel like it would really land, so, yeah. These are not his stars.
Greg makes him wonder how Kevin is doing out there, somewhere.
Nick brings up the R-rated language double standard with Geena and she admits the paradox but ultimately chalks it up these ever changin’ times.
It was around 10:30 when they arrived at her house, he popped the tailgate and they drew out the elongated goodbye. They admitted they probably wouldn’t keep in touch but she would let Irene know how camp goes, and then, we’d see.
“Nick, let’s not rule anything out, deal?”
“Deal.”
There’s still that unidentifiable energy about her, she’s expecting something, maybe…anticipating? Deejay had that going on as well and Nick tried to ignore it. Starting to look like he won’t always get to ignore it.
After a shower, Nick stretches out with the window open, but needs something else, then finds some reliable classical on the low end of the FM dial and dozes off a handful of times as he tries to keep riding this buzz as long as he can.
It finally came to mind how many times he had been put off at the sight of girls who were obvious about their desires, the creepy leering, usually when one or more of them, well, the ones with bad reps, would get to laughing and whispering, make the stupid comments that seemed to come from left field. Evidently they’re preoccupied with this stuff, the stuff of life, as it were, and someone with a balance life, well, like he strives for, just kinda deals with it as it comes along.