NICE CAN BE VERY NICE
by Rumple Foreskin
Velma Meeks sat enthroned at one end of the worn couch in her haphazardly furnished living room. In the far corner, a muted TV flickered alone and unobserved.
She lit a fresh cigarette with her old one, made a token attempt at crushing the butt, then left the still smoldering stub in the overflowing ashtray. After a deep drag, she leaned back and blew out a long, contended stream of smoke. Smoking chores completed, she propped her bare feet on the crowded coffee table and waited for her friend to come back from the kitchen.
Waiting in silence, however, was not her style. The thirty-something bottled-blonde looked around at the empty doorway to the kitchen. "You know it's hard for me to believe you're this messed-up. You've always been so self-confident. Now, it's like you don't know whether to fish or cut bait."
Kelly Brown, the petite object of many local male fantasies, came back from the tiny kitchen carrying a bottle of Tab. "It's not that bad, really. I've just gotten this feeling, call it a hunch, that something's not right and I don't know why or what to do about it."
She reclaimed her spot at the other end of the sofa. "The thing is, Jerry and I went out twice last weekend. Both times he seemed, well, sort of distracted. Like, it was nice to be with me, but no big deal, either."
"You think maybe he's jealous and pouting because you went out with Rowdy last weekend when he was out of town?"
Kelly shrugged and reached for her own cigarettes. "Could be. That's what I counted on. We’ve done the casual dating bit long enough. It seemed time to start getting serious. I figured a little jealousy would do the trick.”
She shook her head. “Maybe I read things wrong. I mean he never asked about what I did. At first, I figured somebody had told him about my dating Rowdy and, like you said, he was pouting. Now, I'm beginning to wonder if he just doesn’t care."
“I doubt it." Velma leaned forward and inspected the second coat of bright red polish she’d just applied to her toenails. "Maybe he's just trying to act cool."
The women smoked in silence, pondering the situation, until Velma started rummaging through the clutter on the coffee table. "Have you seen my nail file?" She paused and looked over at Kelly. "You know, I just had a thought. You think it might be something that happened during the date?"
Kelly picked the file off the floor and handed it over. "Well, I might have carried on more than usual, you know, showing how much I'd missed him and all, doing a lot of the talking, trying to act like I was interested in whatever it was he did. Other than that, nothing.”
“Didn’t you say his old buddy, Abby Mitchell, and another couple went with him? You and Abby aren’t exactly best friends. Think she might have put a move on him herself just to spite you?"
"Maybe. Who knows? Miss High Society would do anything, and I do mean, anything, to get at me."
“Speaking of doing anything,” said Velma, “I take it you and Jerry still haven't done the old, dirty deed?"
"No, not yet. The timing’s never felt right.” Kelly tried to act nonchalant. "You don’t think I went out with Rowdy just to make Jerry jealous, do you?"
“Is that why you’re keeping Rowdy on a string?”
“You know it. Jerry’s nice. But sometimes he can be, well, too damn nice. Rowdy’s not my idea of a husband, but he’s a great party guy, which can be,” Kelly winked at Velma, “you know, real nice.”
They both giggled. "Honey, maybe old Jerry’s just getting tired of waiting for some action. Look, this is 1970, not 1870. Even if nookie depravation isn't the main problem, give that boy some good lovin’ and I promise you’ll have his undivided attention."
Kelly grinned. "I would hope so."
"The trick is," continued Velma, "to act just a little confused and vulnerable afterward, like it was so incredible you’re all shook up. Say you never felt this way before. It's a sneaky little way of suggesting that, even if there might have been one or two others, he's the best."
Down at the other end of the couch, Kelly pretended to take notes. "Act confused and say, 'felt.' Is that right, Professor Meeks?"
"You got it, girl. That way he'll get all full of himself and want to be your knight in shining armor and go around saving your honor—for himself, of course. Once he's your big, brave protector, you say something about Rowdy, and then start reeling old Jerry in."
"Velma, you won't do. Does any guy ever have a chance around you?"
"Not if I have my way, honey. They never have and never will. Just ask my poor husband."
"So you think it's time I let Mr. Jerry have that special present he’s been wanting?"
"A girl's gotta do what a girl's gotta do. And just between you and me and the walls, some girls say its kind of fun."
Kelly laughed, then checked her watch and stood. "I've gotta scoot. But do you remember that joke you told Buddy, about how you were giving up sex because it was too messy, too much work, and the positions were ridiculous?"
"Oh, yeah. I had him going for a minute. You should've seen his face."
"Well, to tell you the truth, that's pretty much how I really do feel. I love everything leading up to it. You know, the flirting and the dates and making-out. And there are times when I do get a little turned-on and really want the guy. But most of the time, even with Rowdy, well, you know. Still, I suppose if it has to be done, it has to be done."
"That's the spirit.”
"Because I promise you," continued Kelly, in a flat, dead-serious voice, "Abby Mitchell may have knocked me out of everything I wanted in high school, but I’m going to marry her best friend. This time, I’ll be the winner."
Was this what love felt like? Kelly didn’t know. She’d wanted Jerry, but mainly for his family’s money and status. Rowdy was her favorite playmate, and she hadn’t planned to give him up. But that was before last night.
Jerry had been so worn-out from his summer job it was almost funny. But a stop at the T-Bone Grill for a big lettuce and tomato salad, two double-cheeseburgers, a large order of curly fries, and three glasses of ice tea revived him enough to want something special for dessert.
So did she. Jerry had been patient and nice, but it was past time to let him score. Besides, Rowdy was out of town and she felt frisky.
That Jerry turned out to be so good came as a surprise, and a real bonus. The first time was okay, maybe even a little exciting. Of course, most first times were. Other than that, it’d been nice, but really, just sex as usual.
After they rested and cuddled for awhile, he began making love, not just to the boobs and all that, but to every part of her body, and there was nothing in his way, either. He’d insisted on taking off all her clothes. So there she was, buck-naked in the back seat of his car, while he did his thing—and she’d loved every moment.
In her experience, most guys were eager to paw and grab, but just until they moved on to the serious stuff. Jerry seemed to enjoy foreplay, kissing and touching and nibbling and stroking everywhere. And he kept on doing it until she was on the verge of begging him to go ahead and start the serious stuff.
When he did, it was good, really good. It wasn’t just the sex that made everything so incredible, although that was nice, but the feeling he wanted to make love to her and with her, not just get laid.
Maybe after wanting her for so long, he was determined to take full advantage of their time together. Maybe that was the way he always made love. Whatever the reason, being on the receiving end was a blast.
But it was what happened on the way home that made the night so special She’d snuggled up beside him with his arm around her shoulders, and all that. On a quiet stretch, he pulled over and kissed her. When it ended, he gave her this look and said, "I need you, now." All she could do, all she wanted to do, was nod.
They parked so close to the road you could still see the occasional car passing. It was almost like doing it right out in public. Jerry didn't seem to care where they were, and moments later, neither did she. It was all so spontaneous, so passionate, so, well, so damn romantic.
Tonight, they’d start back at the T-Bone, then leave for dessert. They'd make love, again and again. It was going to be nice. She smiled with anticipation and something that felt like love.
So long, Rowdy. Tough luck, Abby. Nice can be very nice.
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