The Complete Drive-In

5

Considering the way she had insulted my anatomy, I wasn’t in any rush to pick her up and carry her to Jungle Home, but I finally gave it a try. She was a pretty hefty gal.

I put her down, went back to Jungle Home, found the keys to the camper and drove over there and got her, loaded her into the back, letting her head bump the tailgate only a couple of times.

When I got her stretched out, I moved her hair out of her face and took my first good look at her. She wasn’t bad looking. Somewhere between eighteen and twentyone. Guessing ages is not one of my better attributes.

Under the wet clothes her breasts looked nice and so did the width of her hips and the shape of her thighs. I thought about getting her wet clothes off to make her more comfortable, but I feared an ulterior motive.

I left her there in a puddle and went back to Jungle Home, stopping on the way to look at myself in the truck’s wing mirror. My hair was wet and twisted and my scraggly little beard looked like a smear of grease. If I was going to have whiskers, why couldn’t I have a full set like Bob and Crier.

I did the best I could combing my hair with my fingers, then went on up to Jungle Home and put on my blanket and tied it around my waist with a belt I had made of vines. Then I lay down on my sleeping bag and found that all that exertion had worn me out. I went right to sleep.

Next thing I knew, Bob and Crier were back. They had a vine basket of fruit, but no game.

“The great hunters return,” I said.

“He saw a bunny,” Bob said, “and couldn’t shoot it. He got all dewy-eyed.”

“It had a little pink nose,” Crier said. “After all that’s happened, I just couldn’t kill something.”

“Think those fish you catch live happily ever after in our bowel movements?”

“They aren’t cute like bunnies,” Crier said.

“Boys,” I said, “there’s a girl down in the camper.”

“Don’t joke me,” Bob said. “I see a fork in a tree and I get hard.”

“I’m not joking,” I said, and told them the story.

We brought the basket of fruit with us, and when we got around to the back of the camper and looked inside, it was empty. There was a pool of water where she had been and her clothes and tennis shoes were laid out on the tailgate.

“Melted, I figure,” Bob said.

“I’m right here.”

We turned. She was about ten feet away, wearing only faded blue bikini panties. Her blonde hair was dry now and somehow she had combed it out. It fell to her wide shoulders and tumbled over them and, much to our happiness, stopped just before covering her breasts, which were firm and full with areola the size of half-dollars and the color of warm beef gravy. The nipples were thick and firm, like the tips of pointing fingers. She had a narrow waist and her ribs showed from having lost too much weight. There were faint, pink bands here and there on her body, as if she had been lashed with something. She had her hands on her hips and was looking right at us. If she was embarrassed, I couldn’t tell it.

“Christ,” she said. “Haven’t you boys seen titties before?”

“There’s titties,” Bob said, “then there’s titties.”

“This is my first time, ma’am,” Crier said. “I’ve heard of them, of course.”

“Fuck with me, any kind of way,” she said, “and I’ll break your legs off and shove them up your assholes.”

“Me first,” Crier said.

But the way she looked at us then made us step aside. She came over and got her clothes and started putting them on.

“You boys enjoying the show?”

“Very much, yes,” Bob said.

She finished dressing, sat on the tailgate, and looked at us. I guarantee we weren’t as pleasant to look at as she was.

She said, “Had a cousin told me about a boyfriend she’d had. Said he was so horny he’d go to the ocean and fuck the water in case there might be a shark out there that had swallowed a girl. Know what she meant now. You could at least close your mouths.”

“We’re not so bad,” Crier said. “We brought you some fruit.”

She eyed the fruit we had left on the tailgate and said, “It isn’t full of dick holes, is it?”

“Oh, come on,” I said, “we’re not that bad. All things considered, we’re doing okay. We’re not trying to rape you, are we? Look here. I’m Jack, this is Bob, and this is Crier.”

Her face changed a little then and there was something behind that pretty skin and those green-gray eyes that wasn’t so pretty. But whatever it was went away as quickly as it had arrived.

She took a plum-like fruit from the basket and bit out of it. The juice leaped from it in gold beads and flecked her lips and cheeks and she began to chew. After a moment, she spat out the seed, and went deeper into the fruit like a lion biting the innards out of an antelope’s belly. When she finished that one, she ate another.

Somehow, watching her eat was as good as a peepshow. None of us said a word.

When she was finished, she said, “Now you’ve had a look at my tits and watched me eat. I hope you’re happy. Had you showed five minutes earlier, you could have gone off in the bushes with me and watched me pee.”

“You could have called us,” Bob said.

“Nice dresses,” she said, nodding at Bob and me.

“Let’s not talk fashion,” I said. “Tell us about yourself. Before the drive-in and up to now.”

“Why would you want to know?”

“Entertainment,” I said. “It’s not like we have a pressing social calendar. We know more than we want to know about each other. Give us something new to think about.”

“All right,” she said. “Sit down and get comfy, because this is going to take a while.”