Reno had the leading man good looks. I had the character actors mojo and a huge 1966 Pontiac Bonneville. Attending a commuter college made me an asset for lifts after late night theater rehearsals. One thing you learn is that some folks are just born to be romantic leading men and leading ladies. Others are relegated to supporting roles on stage. Still others work in the wings. So it is in the world stage too.
Reno wanted to work all directions of the up to down elevator shaft of social strata. He was of the mind to cash in on quantity rather than idealized quality. Tonight two women on the stage crew got caught up in the Reno jet stream that led to my car. I was beneficiary of that jet stream tonight. Actually for the entire run of this community theater production of “Carousel”. After all Billy and Jigger had to perfect their collusion. Tonight's stream deposited Joy in the back seat with Reno while Beverly’s butt landed shotgun. The Bonneville bus pulled out of the Junior College parking lot straight for ports heretofore unexplored.
Beverly had long flowing dishwater blonde hair that fell messily over her shoulders, front and back. Front covering her startlingly pointed and jiggly jugs, each perilously tipped with constantly erect nipples. Her hair in back floated above her soft flat ass which went luxuriously from one roomy hip to the other.
Parked in the forest preserve with Beverly and I in the front seat, Reno and Joy in the back, while The Nanny was waiting impatiently at her workplace for me to pick her up after theater practice.
I don't know why I always do this.
Well. Yes I do.
I fell in love way too young.
I stayed in love way too young.
Yet I wanted to partake of the strange and varied fruits that were out in the world.
Few were stranger or unusual than Beverly.
Fewer still were as bountiful as Joy.
Joy was all frizzy hair, glasses, boobs, and feminine curves everywhere else. Not stacked high, but packed and stacked to perfection.