PIT 2/24: Day After

Points In Time

Westlake Village, California

July 4, 2009

9:20 PM

“There was a major slow down in the real estate market in the eighties, so I asked my son…”

“Who’s a real estate salesman…”

“Yeah. So I asked him to be on the lookout for a ‘very’ well priced duplex for Mona an’ me somewhere in the Phoenix area so we can be closer to the kids…”

“That’s where you’ll be going, to Phoenix?”

“Yeah. And Daniel… Dan’s my son…” Missy said “..an’ he found us real deal an’ …”

“We been renting both units since the deal closed, so it’s almost paid for.”

“An’ in six months the lease will be up for the last family living there, so…” Mona said “...Missy’n’me’ll go home.”

“An’, Mitch,I wanna tell you…” putting her hand onto my outside cheek, moving my head closer to hers. Whispering directly into my ear, “grandma’s like to fuck, too.”

Hearing Missy’s words, but probably too drunk to actually formulate the mental scene of my dick in her red haired pussy. Although the thought of it sending a twitch in my dick, but not enough of a twitch for Missy to notice…

Or maybe it was just too soon after my time with Barbara, which was, after all, only three weeks ago. Maybe it’s just that Missy just doesn’t appeal to me.

Hell, it’s not that she ‘s an old women. I see plenty of old appearing women that look really good to me.

And Barbara wasn’t old at all or even all that attractive, and I fell in love with her.

My hand gone from beneath her ratty sweat shirt, no longer cradling her long hanging tit as slowly moving westward, still seeing and hearing the sounds and sight of the fireworks from shore bound homes.

Breaking the silence from within the boat– because at this time , possibly due to two many martinis, I had nothing intelligent to say after– Later, sober, I would very definitely have a response to, ‘grandma’s like to fuck, too’… But what that response might be; physical or verbal, I had no idea.

Breaking the silence from within the boat. “Hey…” Milt called “… anyone wanna share a foot long with me?”

Which caused loud, drunken laughter from Missy and me because she couldn’t even find my inch-long.

Don’t know if she found it or not. Assuming four, or possibly five martinis might put it into hiding as did mine, nonetheless...

“Yeah…” letting go, or giving up the search for Milts cock “...I’m starving!”

Reaching into the Igloo, Milt retrieved a plastic bag with paper plates, napkins and enough stainless steel silverware – Positive thinking: we came prepared for four people on this night.

Cutting both ‘Italian cold cut’ foot-longs in half, Mona handed two paper plates to Missy and me.

“Got anything to drink?”

“Well, yeah…” Milt said “...can’t imagine where you’re putting it, Mona, but if you don’t mind ‘em kind of watery, there’s a bit more in the pot.”

“Won’t mind.”

“Okay.” Scooping a double hand full of melting ice cubes, Milt dropped them into the coffee pot, shook it until the tinklling slowed, then poured an ounce or so of watered down– more water than martini into each of the four cups.

Drunk enough to ask normally personal financial questions.

“So you’re retired from, uh, stripping and your, uh, act; what are you girls doing?”

Drunk enough to answer normally personal financial questions.

Washing a bite of the Italian cold cut sandwich down with barely recognizable martin. “For money?”Missy asked.

Washing a bite of Italian cold cut sandwich down with‘yucky’ , martini. “Yeah…” I said “...If it ain’t too personal.”

“Nah! Judd was a really good agent and..”

“He taking a cut of your earnings?”

“For the last twenty years we been working…” Mona said between chewing and swallowing “Missy and me and our act became so popular and were packing so many horny guys…”

“And horny ladies in.” Missy interjected.

“The low class clubs we been playing were adding a heavy…”

“A ‘very’ heavy cover charge…”

“And kicked up the price of drinks so much that they were paying Judd to book us…”

“And, of course, we kept whatever was thrown onto the stage…”

“Yea…” Missy said “...thank God for natural red-haired pussy and big tits.”

“Anyway, we began making so much money, Judd set up a ‘show business’ business, showing Missy and me as ‘independent contractors’ and taking tax from whatever we earned, so…”

“Mona and me are getting Social Social, and most of those non-taxable ‘fives’ and ‘tens’ tossed onto the stage we’ve been saving for twenty years…”

“And had enough to get into ‘Goggle’ and ‘Amazon’ when the stock was affordable for a couple of old strippers.”

“And… Since you asked, Mitch, so I’m not ashamed to say that me an’ Mona had ‘boyfriends’…”

“Lot’s of ‘generous’ boyfriends’ that loved natural tits and natural red hair pussies..”

Coming around the western bend of the lake that would soon bring us back to our docks.

“You guys do ‘not’…” Mona tiredly asked “...want to come up for…?”

Emphatically stated. “No, not me!”

“We’ll help you up those pretend steps…” I asked “...if you think you’ll need the help.”

“No, all I want to do is to get into bed…” Missy drunkenly giggled “...by myself.”

“Yeah…” stepping from the boat to their dock “...me, too .” Mona said.

Laboriously plodding upward, “Se you guys, when we see you!” Missy waved over her shoulder.

Back Street Cafe

July 5, 2009

10:o5 AM

Individually driving, Milt arriving a few minutes before Mitchell , but having to wait to be seated, was still in line when he arrived...

...Seated in a booth, “Thank you.” nodding to the server  as he put cups of coffee before Milt and me.

“How’d you sleep last night?”

“Hardly able to get undressed… You?”

“Too much gin.” I said. “Spent a while with my head in the toilet, but then...”

“So…” taking a sip of coffee “... what do you think?”

Blowing on the coffee, “About the girls?” I asked.

“ ‘Girls my ‘ass!

“Missy and Mona?”

“Yeah! What do you think?”

“I think you and me are probably going to get fucked a lot.” Adding, “Whether we we want to or not.”

“Missy and me were behind the counsel, so don’t know if you were able to see, but never met a woman that wanted to get those big hands onto my dick that bad.”

“Me, too. Shit! Drunk as she was, I’m amazed Mona was even able to find it. You think, maybe, those two are just a little too crass for us?”

Swallowing coffee before answering. “Too crass for you and me, Abrams? Never thought we’d meet ‘any’ one that was too crass for you and me!”

Appearing with a full pot of coffee. Topping our cups.

“Ready to order?”

“Yeah….” ordering my usual “... eggs over easy, sausage, hash browns crispy and a bagel with cream cheese.”

“I’ll take the same.”

Milt and me watching as a – at least from this distance, watching as a beautiful, possibly nineteen year old woman wearing a halter top and shorts got into the diminishing line of those waiting to be seated.

By the way…” Milt asked “...have a chance to catch the news this morning?

“No. By the time I got up and took a shower, I was running late to meet you so hustled over.”

“That old girlfriend of yours, uh… The lady that Harriet and me met that day you moved in.”

6/16/ 1986

An older ‘Lincoln Continental’ had pulled onto the neighbouring driveway and, the driver side door opening, a middle aged man lifting himself off the seat… “Hi, there! You our new neighbour?”

Stepping over the three foot wide grass meridian separating our two properties, holding his hand forward, “I’m Milton… ‘Milt’ Abrams, and this is…” motioning over the roof of the Lincoln “...my wife, ‘Harriet’.”

“I’m Mitch Lipensky and this my,uh…” not knowing what Lita was to me at that time, but wishful thinking “...girlfriend.”

Human and prejudicial conditions and reactions outside of the ultra liberal nudist fields of Elysium much different in the ‘real’ world and a show of non-acceptance can happen in split seconds. Sometimes it might be no more than the crinkle of an eyelid or the temporary tightening of lips…

The split second change in the ‘welcoming’ attitude of my new next door neighbours flashing from the faces’ of Milton but much more so from the face of Harriet Abrams…

Which I did not notice, however apparently more attuned to prejudicial attitude, Lita certainly did.

Months later, when Milt Abrams and I became friends, I learned that Milt’s look upon meeting Lita was not prejudicial but more so envy for the beautiful negro lady at my side.

7/5/2009

“Lita”? I questioned, remembering that she had told me her husband was a high school teacher in Watts.

“Yeah, that’s her. She’s running for the congressional seat for her district in ‘Watts’.”

The last time I saw Lita was in June of nineteen, eighty-six; twenty-three years ago. “ ‘Really’?”For congress?”

“Yeah. Seems her husband was the congressman for the district died, so she’s trying for his seat.”

Wondering if Lita’s colour, or her lack of colour would help or hinder her chances.

“She’s a good lady! I hope she makes it.”

Talk stopping as the waiter placed Milt’s and Mitchell’s plates before them, and refilled their coffee.

“You and your women.” Milt said “That other one. The one you met in Chicago.

“Barbara.”

“Yeah.”

Eating, my friend Milt and I spoke of what old men speak.

My observation is that as men– at least regarding Mile Abrams and myself, we no longer speak of the women we’ve known, or wish we’d known. Or bitch about our wives…

Actually from the day I met Milt, I no longer had a wife as Marsha was living in Chicago and our divorce was in the process of being finalised and, for the next seven years, his wife, Harriet was still alive and Milt, in my opinion, had plenty to bitch about. .. And so did I.

Then, in time, as we grew older our talk was of politics, of food. Then, time going on, about his ‘prostate’, my ‘bad knee’, his ‘acid reflex’, my ‘eyesight’ and so on…

And...

That other one. The one you met in Chicago.

Remembering:

Sunday, June 20, 2009

Chicago, Illinois

Allerton Hotel

8:32 AM

“Good morning, Ladies and Gentlemen,” the moderator said, “we have seven remaining poets that have not yet presented their writing. Then, when finished, the panel,” motioning to the two and tapping himself on the chest, “will confer and announce the winner.”

Next: PIT 2/25: The Prize