Counting 5 days

Mary was not totally ho hum. She’d had her moment of spontaneity; but, that is an entirely different story I must one day set down. For the few months we had dated she always looked good on my arm. But, we had never become an item. Other folks knowing either one of us knew that. Likely the only person who’d have liked seen us a match was her older sister. My problem with Mary was my wanting more mental substance for a lifetime relationship than she contained. I thought I had found those traits in Frieda our first date spending the fastest six hours I was to ever have enjoyed living in this life. Now, I must be getting on with the current story to hopefully climax it with my Princesses’ special day.
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That last night before July 4th I had socially seen Mary for the last time. I had naught but selfishly devoted all my time to the current quest. If there was ever an glimmer of a relationship’s hope between us that light had seriously dimmed the last time we shared a meal out.
It was the 4th of July I had either already asked (or suggested) our going to the beach. Frieda had agreed. I had parked the car along side the very same curb under the very same lamp post, across the street from the very same Catholic Church where we had supposedly started and likely finished negotiating the marriage contract. (Talk, something more young people might find more important to mating than playing between the sheets! Excuse me for that tirade. Perhaps while Frieda and I might have done it wrong? By some great minds I think’s we had done it properly all so right!). When we had finished our negotiations we had saved the best near for last. Oh dear, I may be getting ahead of myself.
Right there just a few feet away was a set of beach stairs going down to the south end of the beach offering just a wee bit some public privacy. At least here we couldn’t be ogled at through binoculars from either the top of the bluff or from the primary beach parking nor from road what went up to the bluff’s top.
Oh yeah, I was seeing more of her and I liked what I was seeing: nicely tapered limbs, an hour glass figure stretching my imagination over figure that was in truth a somewhat rendition of the comic papers Olive Oil. As for her hide, her skin was tight, clear, smooth and having some softness to it. Oh yes, she was lovely.
We laughed and smiled a lot slathering suntan lotion on each other. At least I did. I lecherously had my hands on her shoulders, limbs, upper arms and some of herself I let her rub it on herself. She did me also, but it was not quite the same as the other way around. I had even had the forethought to have brought along a Brownie camera. Wanting something special in the way of a commemorative photograph, I got her to sit on the beach blanket. Sitting her buttocks resting on bent knees her claves under her she was looking good, “Straighten your back and throw out your chest.” She did so also loosing the beautiful smile she’d been wearing thus far during whole time we were together. I had spoiled the magic. The beach date had come to an end. We packed ourselves up and climbed the stairs in relative silence. Truthfully, we had progressed to the point where It did or didn’t matter about the little things anymore.
In spite our only on the beach an hour under an overcast sky we didn’t know it yet, but we had soaked up for ourselves a couple healthy sun burns.
Seated in the car I told her I thought her beautiful, a couple times. Oddly enough in the daylight she looked mighty find. A lot better than I had imagined after our late evening get together‘s. Sitting there our eyes fixed in each other’s our faces closed. We were but a moment away from the love’s sealing lip locking kiss, When suddenly a car load of mutual friends to the both of us stopped beside us and laid on their horn. What an inconsiderate bunch they were. I knew some, Frieda knew some. Rather then sit in the middle of the road tying up traffic we all drove over to Bob’s home and totally switched automobiles. Frieda had never ridden in a convertible, let alone a red one. One very attractive girl with five or six better than average looking guys we all took Frieda for a ride over the bridge slowly checking out both beaches before we took Frieda home.
Oh boy, did Frieda and I ever catch Hell. Frieda more so than I, her ma suggesting Frieda, near naked in naught but a one piece bathing suit, was turning into a common hussy, displaying herself among six men. How shame full in her mind. I can’t imagine what I had become in their privacy. Personally all of us guy’s upon hearing of ma’s anger thought the pretty young lady’s virtue was safe with her date, the chauffeur, and four footmen. Ma was sure to remind us for days to come. After all Frieda was wearing an automobile both ways that beach day.
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The farm saw me bring the last loaded wagon home this morning. I’ve still two more loads to load and bring home. Ugly still loaded, the Cushman served me well to carry empty fuel cans down the road for a filling. Those same cans filled I parked the truckster in exchange for the Van. I had to take Frieda to see her knee surgeon. Somebody other than myself in this household had lead me to believe her medical oppointment was for 1:45PM. Upon what I had thought was right on time the receptionist informed one of us the patient was an hour early. Okay, we made a deal. Frieda stays here and wait’s out the hour. I go tool shopping.
About the time the hour was up, my returning in time to join her for the examination’s interview, I had missed it. Her doctor seeing Frieda sitting in the waiting room took her in with in moments my leaving. Both of us finished we were on the road again. This time we traveled near around the corner for a hospital equipment retail outlet for a prescribed knee brace for Fried’s slowly healing knee. Frieda’s saying it feels so much better the brace steadying her right operated on knee, I made inquires for therapeutic roller-skates. The establishment’s associate agreed with me and smiling, instructed me, “Bring her back when Frieda’s ready.”
(snickering grin here) Heading home I thought I’d find My Frieda a priceless cup of coffee. Only one problem, the priceless coffee kitchen was closed. This pretty well covers my day driving home a one eyed Cushman truckster putting the truckster away after a Shorthorn country sundown. BGKC
Fernan