Not That Kind of Girl

We were spinning around town in Big Bill’s Ford, looking for a few kicks and getting more and more bored as time passed and the streets continued to loom up dark and empty. The excitement which had gripped us earlier, that wild exhilaration brought on by night and whiskey and youthful exuberance, had gradually dissipated, the way it will when you expect too much and get too little, leaving us with a sour taste of disappointment and a growing resentment. Still, it was too early to go home so we continued speeding through the silent streets, pursuing adventure as if it was something you could grasp and hold in your hand.

Big Bill was driving while Shorty slouched in the seat between us, feigning sleep. I sat on the passenger side,next to the window, nursing a bottle of whiskey and wishing something would happen to break the monotony.

Then, as we turnedoff the main boulevard and entered a residential area, we saw her-a chubby brunette in black pants and a tight red blouse standing under a streetlight.

Big Bill swung the car around with a screech of brakes and pulled up beside her. He gave her his best smile. He oozed self-confidence. Girls didn’t scare him like they
did me. He always seemed to know what to say.

“Waiting for someone?” he asked.

The girl hesitated, not sure she wanted to talk to him. “I’m waiting for a bus,” she said
finally.

Big Bill glanced at his watch. “I think you missed it. Last bus runs at nine.” It was a lie,I knew, but apparently the girl believed him.

“Oh,” the girl said.  She darted a quick look at the vacant street and dark buildings
behind her. “Are you sure?”

“I’m sure,” Big Bill said firmly. He gazed at the girl’s breasts. “This is a pretty
tough neighborhood. Why don’t you let us take you home? It would be safer.” His voice rang with conviction and his face was innocent as a baby’s.

“Oh, I couldn’t do that,” the girl protested. “I don’t even know you.”

“We can fix that,” Big Bill said easily. With a wave of his hand he introduced Short and me. Shorty mumbled something unintelligible and I said, “Hi”, but she scarcely noticed. She was watching Big Bill the way a bird watches a coiled snake.

Bill was a good-looking guy and he knew it. He had clear blue eyes, a swath of curly blond hair and an easy smile. He dripped Irish charm. He looked like a choirboy who got his kicks out of attending Boy Scout meetings and helping little old ladies across the street. Except that underneath Big Bill wasn’t like that. Underneath, he was mean as a
snake.

While they ignored me, I studied the girl. She was chubby, not fat really, but she had a lot of meat on her bones. Her shoulders were wide for a girl and her hips were broad and fleshy. Her breasts were big and looked good straining against the tight blouse she wore. Her face wasn’t bad either although her cheeks were a little too round and there was a bulge of fat under her chin. Underneath the makeup, her skin was smooth and soft and her mouth was small and red--like a ripening rosebud. Everything considered, she was neither pretty nor ugly, just a rather ordinary, plump girl. She said her name was Charlotte.

“So now we know each other,” Big Bill said, climbing out onto the sidewalk beside her
and motioned toward the back seat. “Come on. Get in. No sense walking.”

“I better not.”

“Why not?”

“It wouldn’t look right.”

“Listen,” Big Bill said. “The buses aren’t running. How you going to get home?”

“Well....” Her glance shifted between the deserted street and the car. She was chewing her lower lip and I could tell she wanted to get in the car. It wasn’t just because she was afraid to walk, either. “You promise to take me right home?”

“Sure. No detours you don’t want to make.”

Charlotte hesitated, weighing the chill of a darkened neighborhood against the warmth and comfort of the car. “OK,” she said. Slowly she slid into the back seat and Big Bill
followed her.

Shorty scooted under the wheel and edged the car away from the curb. I watched Big Bill and the girl in the rear view mirror. A guy could learn a lot from Bill. He had a way with girls, an instinct for knowing exactly what to say and when to say it, the way a good drummer picks up the beat of a song even though he has never heard it before.

At first he played it real cool, making small talk and laughing. The car must have been purring along for five minutes before he casually slipped his arm around her and kissed her, gently, as if she was made of glass. He kept his hands where they belonged, too. Afterwards, he said something I couldn’t hear and the girl laughed.

It was easy to see that Charlotte liked him. She just sat there, kind of expectant, and
pretty soon Bill kissed her again.

I watched them curiously. The bottle between my legs was nearly half full, which was
reassuring. We had picked up lots of girls during the hot summer that had just passed. In fact, we seemed to spend most of our nights cruising around town, drinking booze and looking for girls. Usually they were in groups of two or more. They laughed and teased and sometimes after they got in the car they let us kiss them. Sometimes
they let us touch them in secret places although not many let us go any farther. Usually it was just heavy breathing and furtive clutching and swapping spit.

Big Bill had the most success. More than once he had dropped Shorty and me off and drove away with a girl. Later, he smirked as he described his conquest.

Now he was sitting close to Charlotte, his arm around her shoulders. “Its kind of early to go home,” Bill said. “Would you like to stay out for a while?”

“What would we do?”

“Oh, we could probably find something.”
.
She giggled nervously. “Well, I guess I could stay for a while,” she said

Big Bill’s hand dropped to casually touch the girl’s breast. Suddenly I felt all
shivery inside.

“Do you like to drink?”

“Sure. Why not?”

“We got a bottle. We could go park someplace
and drink it. What do you say?”

I was afraid she would say no but she didn’t. She nodded and sat there quietly waiting and after a while he kissed her again--hard and lingeringly. I could see his hands were inside her blouse. When he pulled away, she emitted a little moan.

I sat up straight in my seat. This was going better than I had dared expect. The girl was definitely in the mood. and Big Bill knew how to play her. While I watched in the mirror, he deftly unbuttoned her blouse and reached behind to unsnap her bra. She didn’t stop him either.

I almost choked with excitement. I couldn’t believe it was happening so fast. Big Bill was going to score. And it had been so easy. No pleading or promises of eternal love; just simple, straightforward seduction.

Shorty must have seen what was happening too. He headed for the country and
parked on a deserted hill above the city. Below, lights from the town twinkled like bright fireflies and in the distance the river stretched out like a twisted blue ribbon.

Bill motioned with his thumb. “You guys beat it for a while,” he said.

We went. I took the whiskey with me.

Shorty and I sat down under a tree near the edge of the hill and gazed at the river below. I took a swig out of the bottle and lit a cigarette.

“What do you think of her?” I ask, trying not to show how excited I was.

“She’s a pig,” Shorty said flatly. He sucked smoke deep into his lungs and exhaled slowly. He wasn’t smiling.

“I guess so,” I agreed. I waited, hoping he would say something else but he didn’t. “She sure was easy, wasn’t she? I wonder why she was so easy?”

Shorty shrugged. “Who knows? I don’t waste time trying to figure out pigs.” He blew a smoke ring into the air.

He sounded kind of funny and I wondered about his relationship with Big Bill. They had been friends for years but Bill often treated him with friendly contempt, as if he was an inferior. Maybe Shorty resented it. It was different with me. I was nearly two years younger and was just glad they let me tag along.

“You think she’ll let us do it?” I ask. I had heard about girls who put out to more than one guy at a time but it had never happened to me.

“Maybe. Bill will do what he can.”

“Boy, I sure hope so,” I said.

I leaned back against the tree, smoking and thinking. I tried to imagine what was going on in the car. Tension was building up in me like waves in an angry sea.

In a few minutes, Bill swaggered out of the darkness. His hair was disheveled and his shirttail hung out of his pants.

“You’re turn, Shorty,” he said.

Shorty hesitated. “Is it OK with her?”

“Of course. She’s in love with you, man.”  Bill laughed mockingly.

Shorty hesitated for a moment an then headed toward the car. He walked like a man facing a strong wind. A moment later he was lost in darkness. In the distance I heard
the car door slam and then the muffled sound of voices.

Billleaned against the tree, unbuckled his pants and tucked in his shirttail. “What a pig,” he said disgustedly.

“You mean it wasn’t good?”

“Oh, it was good, all right. But she’s still a pig.”

I nodded, not understanding and Bill winked.

“You’ll find out for yourself in a few minutes.”

By the time Shorty returned, I was sizzling like the fuse on a Fourth of July firecracker. I didn’t even wait for him to give me the go ahead. I just went. By the time I reached the car some of the anticipation had worn off. I wondered what I would say to her.

I needn’t have worried. When I opened the car door, she was sprawled across the back seat. She was naked from the waist down and her unbuttoned blouse hung open
revealing soft white breasts capped by firm brown nipples. I thought she was beautiful.

“Come on,” she said wearily. “Let’s get it over with.”

I reached for her blindly.

I don’t know if it was good or bad. For a moment there was awkward fumbling and then I was inside her, assaulting her with terrible urgency while a spring inside me grew
tighter and tighter until I could hardly stand it. Charlotte lay limp and inanimate, like a warm, unresponsive rag doll.

Then the spring snapped and I was finished.

She didn’t give me time to enjoy it. Before I could catch my breath, she was pushing
me away.

“What’s your hurry?” I ask resentfully.

“You’re done aren’t you?”
`
“Yeah,but....”

"Then leave me alone,” she snapped at me.

Grudgingly I moved away. I started to snap back at her and then I saw her face. She looked like she wanted to cry.

“What’s the matter?" I asked. "Did I do something wrong?”

She looked startled. “What?”

“I’m sorry," I said.

“For what?”

“I don’t know,” I said lamely.

She turned and looked at me then, as if seeing me for the first time. She looked tired and vulnerable, “You didn’t do anything wrong.”

“Then why are you mad?’

“I don’t know. Because it didn’t work out, I guess.” She looked at me pleadingly. “You know, I didn’t want it to be like this. My God! Three boys in the back seat of a car!
That wasn’t what I wanted. I’m not that kind of a girl.”

“Then why did you do it?”

“Because.” She paused, searching for words. “I don't know. Maybe I was lonely,” she said defiantly. “But it didn’t work out.”

“No,” I agreed, thinking of Bill and Shorty. “I guess it didn’t work out.”

I watched impersonally as she put on her clothes.

“I’ve never done it with three boys before,” she said. Her eyes begged me to believe her. “I’m not that kind of girl.” She paused and her face was hard as granite.

“Aw, who needs it?” she said angrily. I could hear pain and resentment in her voice. She gave her blouse a final tug and opened the car door.

“Go get your friends. I want to go home.”

We took her straight home. I never saw her again.