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By John Yager
This is the fifty-fifth chapter of an ongoing series.
This chapter continues the story of Rob Ballinger's life after his arrival
in Los Angeles in the summer of 1972.
Thanks again for all your comments on this series.
I always appreciate hearing from readers and try to answer all messages
promptly. If I'm slow at times it is only because of the pressure of work
or Early Girls Bbs Toplist my somewhat demanding travel schedule.
Andrew has continued to give much needed proofing
and editorial help, for which I am sincerely grateful. I could not post
chapters as quickly as I've been doing without his invaluable assistance.
This work is copyrighted © by the author and
may not be reproduced in any form without the specific written permission
of the author. It is assigned to the Nifty Archives under the terms of
their submission agreement but it may not be copied or archived on any
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All the stories I've posted on NIFTY can be found
by looking under my name in the NIFTY Prolific Authors lists. If you'd
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The rest of that week was a blur.
I spent Wednesday afternoon and a good part of the night working on the
passage of Call the Dark Waters Basingstoke had given me to work on. Once
I'd gotten into a sort of workable procedure the actual writing of the
dialog came quickly. I began to feel as if I understood the separate characters
of the two women, Marge, the narrator of the original novel, and her lover,
At Basingstoke's meeting on Thursday
he went on and on about the progress we were making and how happy he was
with what he perceived to be a real breakthrough. No mention was made of
the meeting the previous day. Peg and Larry looked at me knowingly a couple
of times but nothing was said. I almost expected one or both of them to
take me aside after the larger group broke up but they made no attempt
to get my attention and I went on home.
At Alvarado Court I tossed workout
clothes in my bag and went on to the gym. I worked out hard for over an
hour. Again, there was no sign of Hank or Billy.
On Friday I slept late and woke thinking
about my date with Nita that evening. I felt as if I knew what she had
in mind and I wasn't at all sure how I felt about it. I'd had sex with
Joyce, of course, but that was different. I'd known her and felt very emotionally
connected with her. I have to admit I actually enjoyed sex with Joyce,
even if it wasn't something I'd have initiated. I knew it was her first
time and she knew I'd never had sex with a woman before so there wasn't
much pressure to perform or even to know what we were doing.
With Nita, if she really did want
to have sex with me as I suspected, I knew I was dealing with a totally
different situation. She was older and, I suspected, fairly experienced,
maybe very experienced. I wondered if she assumed I was knowledgeable about
women and would bring with me all the skills she's expect from a practiced
Frankly, Early Girls Bbs Toplist I wasn't at all sure I wanted
to have sex with Nita. I knew I preferred sex with men. I also suspected
that going to bed with Nita could complicate my life.
Well, I thought, the day and the
evening ahead would be interesting and I'd just have to flow with it. So
with those thoughts in my head I went to the pool.
I had the place to myself for over
an hour but when I saw Emmanuel, the Mexican guy, was mowing the lawn,
I went up to my apartment and made iced tea for the two of us.
A few minutes after I returned, and
just as I'd expected, he wandered back and sat chatting with me for a while.
He seemed pleased that I'd brought two glasses of tea and he really looked
as if he needed something wet and cold. The day was Early Girls Bbs Toplist becoming muggy and
the sky was gray and overcast which, I was beginning to learn, was a common
occurrence in LA.
Emmanuel pulled off his shirt and
moved to the chaise lounge next to mine. He looked as if he'd settled in
for a while so I put down my book and just chatted with him.
"You are not from here, Roberto,"
he said, a question I supposed, although it sounded like a statement.
"No, Emmanuel," I said, "I'm from
"Are there Mexican people there?"
"Not many," I told him, realizing
I'd not known any. In those days the only ethnic groups common in Spring
River were whites and blacks and a few oriental rice farmers who drifted
over from Arkansas from time to time. Later, on subsequent trips back to
Mississippi, I began to see a gradual influx of Hispanic people, mostly
workers in the growing poultry industry, but in the early 1970s they were
almost unknown in that area.
"So you do not have the good food
my people bring with us."
"Well, I guess not," I said.
"We make a great contribution to
the culture of California," he said, stretching his deeply tanned body.
He ran his hand over the side of the iced tea glass, collecting the dampness
on the palm of his hand, and then stroking himself, leaving a wet, glistening
streak across his defined chest.
"Yes, I'm sure you do."
"You do not speak Spanish."
"No matter," he said, his black eyes
fixed on me, "I speak English very well."
"Yes," I agreed.
We sat in silence for a while. I
wasn't sure if he wanted to make further conversation but I left it to
him. Eventually he got up, thanked me for the tea, and went back to his
"I must trim the grass along the
walks," he said by way of explanation.
"Okay, Emmanuel," I said. "I'll see
"Yes, soon," he said, his eyes again
fixed on mine for a moment. Then he turned and left.
I read for a while longer but just
after two I went up to my apartment. It was cool inside and I was tired.
Stripping off my wet Speedos, I dried myself and stretched out naked
on the bed. I slept soundly until almost five o'clock.
I woke from a dream in which I seemed
to be faced with some looming uncertainty. I heard my own voice saying,
"No! Yes! No!"
Oddly, it wasn't Nita or anybody
else I could identify to whom I was speaking. It was myself I was addressing.
Maybe my subconscious was reminding
me that I didn't have to agree to anything I didn't want to do. I could
politely say "no" to anything I felt uncomfortable about. A part of me
looked forward to the evening with Nina with apprehension, even dread,
but part of me was ready for whatever she had in mind. I lay on the bed
for a few minutes longer but by then it was time to get up and shower and
shave and drive out to Nita's to meet my fate.
Once dressed, I went to the bedside
table and took a strip of three condoms from the box and put them in my
slacks pocket. Was that an admission to myself that I was prepared to have
sex with Nita if that proved to be her intention, or just an attempt to
be prepared for any development? I asked myself the question but didn't
On the way north I stopped at the
corner of Alvarado and Sunset where a street vendor was selling flowers.
When I pulled to the curb he came over, offering me two or three tissue-wrapped
"The roses are very nice for your
lady," he said with an almost unintelligible Hispanic accent.
I wondered how did he know I was
heading out on a date, but then realized I probably wouldn't be buying
flowers otherwise. I was hardly used to the role I found myself in.
I also realized I certainly looked
the part of the would-be lover, carefully dressed in my newest and neatest
khaki slacks and most preppie polo shirt. Nita had said we might eat outside
and it could get cool so the cardigan my parents had given me the previous
Christmas lay beside me on the passenger seat.
I bought a dozen yellow roses for
five dollars, too much, I knew, but I didn't argue.
The drive out took longer than I'd
expected and I arrived a little late, going too far west before heading
north, and then heading back east in search of Nita's address up in the
foothills of the San Gabriel Mountains. The place was located on an east-west
street which seemed to parallel the southern edge of a scrubby, forested
The houses on the north side were
clearly larger and newer and backed up to the hilly woods. On the south
side where, I'd figured from the street numbers, I'd find Nita's address,
the houses seemed smaller and the lots narrower.
I passed a dozen boys, probably eleven
or twelve year olds. They were playing some sort of improvised ball game
in the street, but moved to the curb as I drove by, looking with interest
at the car, but clearly a little annoyed at me for disturbing their game.
A block further on I found Nita's
address and parked at the curb across from the small, neat house. The lawn
was small but looked as if it had been professionally landscaped and carefully
tended. The house was basically a rectangle with a nearly flat roof and
dark brown vertical siding. The windows were high and the only feature
which set the place apart from its neighbors was a large stone chimney
at the west end of the house.
I locked the car, something I'd not
have done in Mississippi in those days and, with the flowers and my sweater
in hand, crossed the street to the house.
"Hi, Sweetie," Nita purred when she
opened the door, then "oh, how nice," when I handed her the flowers.
She was wearing a one piece jump
suit. It was loose, sleeveless and made of some soft yellow fabric with
a pattern of crossing green lines. The outfit looked cool and informal
and as she turned to lead me back into the living room I got the distinct
impression from the movement of her body that she wasn't wearing anything
I thought again that my suspicions
about Nita's plans for the evening were correct.
As she led me back toward the rear
of the house I noticed she was barefooted. Well, Rob, old boy, I thought
to myself, go or no-go, you'd better make up your mind!
"Why don't you go ahead and light
the grill, Rob," Nita said when we reached the small, neat kitchen. She
pointed to a pair of sliding glass patio doors and proceeded to work on
a salad in a big wooden bowl on the counter.
As I slid open the doors and stepped
out onto a wide timber deck I was struck by a view of the vast metropolis
which seemed to spread off into infinity below me. I walked to the edge
of the deck and looked down into a small, beautifully landscaped garden
which seemed to be accessible from a lower level of the house. Looking
back at the rear wall of the house I was that there was a second pair of
sliding patio doors which seemed to open off a bedroom.
I'd not realized from the street
how dramatically the site descended from front to rear and I'd had no hint
until I stepped onto the deck of the magnificent view over the city.
Nita had laid charcoal in the grill
and matches were waiting on a small table. I squirted a little fire starter
from a metal can and lit the fire, which leaped into Early Girls Bbs Toplist flame but soon settled
down to a low, flickering glow. I figured in fifteen or twenty minutes
it would be ready.
"The view is spectacular," I said
as I went back into the kitchen.
"That's what convinced me to buy
the house," Nita said, looking up from the salad. I saw that she'd
put the roses in a vase. "I hope I planned enough food for you," she added.
"The salad looks huge."
"Well, that's about it, that and
steaks. Do you want to do the honors and grill them?"
"Sure, but the fire won't be ready
for a while."
"Why don't you open the wine," she
said, nodding toward a pair of bottles on the counter a little to her left.
A corkscrew was lying by them, ready to be used.
Picking up one of the identical bottles,
I remembered watching out of the corner of my eye as Hank had opened the
wine at my apartment a few nights earlier. Trying to look as knowledgeable
as possible, I followed the steps he'd taken. For lack of a knife, I used
the point of the corkscrew to pierce and cut away the foil wrapper over
the cork, then inserted it and twisted it in. I was surprised and pleased
when the cork slid out easily, allowing me to look like I knew what I was
Nita had sat out two glasses, not
slender ones like the once Hank had chosen for the Sauvignon Blanc, but
a wider, more globular type, which I assumed were appropriate for the deep
red wine she'd provided.
Remembering an old film in which
Adolph Menjou poured a little wine into a glass and swirled it around before
offering it to his female costar, I did the same, then handed the glass
to Nita for her appraisal.
She smiled at me, smelled it carefully
and took a discerning sip.
"It's a Mendocino Pinot Noir," she
said. "I hope you like it."
I remembered that Mendocino was a
town on the coast north of San Francisco but didn't associate it with wine
production. I decided Hank had been right. If I was going to live in California
I'd better learn at least a little about wine.
I poured a little into the other
glass and swirled it as I'd done before, then lifted it to my nose and
took a deep breath. It smelled spicy with a heavy, almost earthy fragrance
which for some odd reason immediately reminded me of the Mississippi river
and the damp bottom lands of home.
Suddenly my mind jolted back to dark,
humid nights with Rick at the little cabin south of James and my heart
made an almost painful leap. An involuntarily moan escaped my lips, which
Nita took as appreciation of the wine.
"Wonderful, isn't it?"
"Yes," I managed to say, then covered
my emotions by taking a tentative sip. If anything, the taste only confirmed
what the fragrance had already told me. The wine was dark and heavy and
full of secrets. I couldn't decide if I really liked it or not, but I sensed
that in time I would.
The salad done, we poured more generous
portions of the wine and carried our glasses out onto the deck, where we
sat side by side and watched the lights come on over Los Angeles.
As we sipped Early Girls Bbs Toplist the wine and waited
for the fire in the grill to smolder into glowing embers I realized that
without any conscious thought I'd made a decision. I reached across the
narrow space between us and took Nita's hand. If she wanted me, I'd make
love to her tonight.
She squeezed my hand slightly and
turned to smile, a simple, gentle smile.
The agreement had been struck.
To be continued.
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