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Subject: Sizzler - Short Story Collections
Publication Date: January 2003
Trailer Park Nights: A Young Man's Candid Carnal Confessions
TRAILER PARK NIGHTS
A Renaissance E Books publication
All rights reserved
Copyright © 2004 by Randall Lang
This book may not be reproduced in whole or in part without written permission.
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A Sizzler/Scorcher Edition
"HELLO, I'M ROSE!"
It was one of those hot steamy days in July, 1971 as I followed the truck pulling my new mobile home to Murphy's Mobile Home Park in Point Martin. I had landed my first job and there I was, twenty-two years old and about to set up my own place and start my new life. Point Martin was a nice little town; slow and sleepy, along the riverbank at the junction of the river with a large creek. It was a miniature Pittsburgh in its geography, but without all the hustle and bustle of a large city. Little did I know, as I watched the truck driver skillfully jockey the large trailer into its assigned place, just how much "hustle and bustle" my life was about to encounter.
My "day job" was at a factory about twenty minutes from Point Martin, but my true love was my music. I was a drummer in a lounge band; one of those three-man bands with an organ/piano player, a singer, and a drummer. The type of little band that played everything from the old "standards" of the 1940's to some of the latest rock & roll. Working five days and four nights a week was a bit of a juggling act, but the fun and excitement of playing easily overcame the tiredness.
It was at a place in Point Martin called the Riverside Hotel that I met Rose. She worked there as a waitress and occasional bartender. She was ten or twelve years older than I, with beautiful red hair, a captivating smile, and those sparkling eyes that could light up a man in a moment. The eyes that invite you, that DARE you, to make a pass at her. The eyes that supercharge your hormones and put that giant lump in your throat, challenging any word to pass through your dry mouth.
It was a Friday night, near two A.M., after we finished playing, and I was sitting on a barstool as the place slowly emptied out. I was nursing a bourbon and water, when she sat down beside me. As I turned my face toward hers, I felt as if my body had turned to stone and my brain had shut down. I struggled to at least appear "cool" as my hand trembled so much the ice in my glass began to tinkle.
"Hi Cutie! Great band!" Those were the first words she spoke to me. Her wide, bright smile revealed slightly crooked front teeth I hadn't noticed before. Her teeth were not so crooked as to detract from her beauty, but it was so unexpected that it surprised me. All evening I had watched her from my place on the stage. I studied the grace of her movements, the flow of her dress, the perfection of her hair. During the dull slow songs my mind flashed through myriad fantasies of burying my hands in that red hair and pressing her lips to mine. Fantasies of crushing her body against mine and listening to the sound of the zipper as I slowly opened the back of her dress. A thousand thoughts ran through my mind about this woman.
And now she sat beside me, staring at my frozen, stupid face as I tried in vain to assemble even a few intelligible words. It seemed an eternity before, "Thank you. Good crowd tonight," stumbled from my lips.
"Yea! Good tippers too! Hello, I'm Rose." She extended her hand to me.
I took her hand in mine, gripping it gently in a handshake. "Hi Rose, I'm Randy," I nervously replied. Her hand was soft, her flesh surprisingly cool to the touch. A thought entered my mind that it was like touching a breast. From overhead speakers, the taped music played a slow dance tune. She seemed to cling to my hand then suddenly she stood up.
"Come dance with me! All night I've been watching other people dance. It's my turn."
Before I could respond, she pulled me from my stool and led me to the still darkened dance floor. In the dim light she molded her body against mine as my arms wrapped around her. She slid her hand free of mine and folded her arms around my neck. I was breathless as her soft, warm body pressed against me and those incredible green eyes with the soft gray edges, sapped any semblance of organized thought from my mind. What was left was a large boy rapidly hardening under the complete control of this beautiful woman.
"Where are you from, Randy?" she whispered to me.
"I just moved here recently," I mumbled through my dry mouth, "I'm living across the river, over at Murphy's."
"Oh, the trailer park," she replied. "There's ALWAYS something going on there."
"Really? What do you mean?"
"I have friends over there. They party hard! They drink till the booze is gone, then they either fight or make love all night. Never a dull time over there."
"I haven't been there long," I stammered, "Haven't experienced the parties yet."
"Then maybe it's time. Tonight's not too soon for you is it?" I felt her hips grinding against me leaving me caught in both my nervousness and embarrassment. Her arms tightened about my neck pulling my head down until her teeth nipped at my ear lobe and her tongue teased at my ear. As she slowly released my neck I straightened up until our eyes met and her gaze left me limp save for one extremely rigid part.
"Don't leave without me." She pulled away and walked toward the bar leaving me very much alone on the empty dance floor, the front of my pants bulging.
As my wits returned, I quickly jammed my right hand deep into my pocket in a vain attempt to disguise her victory, and I returned to my barstool. The bourbon and water disappeared in a chain of swallows, its jolt of alcohol helping to clear my head.
It didn't take long for the place to empty out. The bartender and the manager were busy cleaning and setting up for the next day. I was grateful we had an extended engagement there and I didn't have to pack up. Suddenly Rose was beside me, wearing a black sweater over her white uniform dress.
"Are you ready?" she asked me. Try as I may, I couldn't help feeling clumsy and stupid.
"Sure!" I answered. As I stood up, she took my arm and we walked toward the door. She clung tightly to me, casually squeezing my elbow against her soft breast. I felt a bit embarrassed when I opened the door of my seven year-old car, revealing the dirt and clutter that had accumulated. She seemed to graciously ignore it as I slid in on the driver's side.
We eased our way through the center of town, where the ever-present police car sat at the stop sign. The glass pack mufflers rumbled their throaty V-8 tune as we crossed the steel decked river bridge and turned toward the trailer park. The awkward silence was deafening within the car while I struggled in my mind to come up with a topic of conversation. Fortunately, the ride was short and we pulled into the trailer park road.
There were four rows of trailers with two roads extending the length of the park. The center two rows were arranged such that the backs of the trailers in the center two rows overlapped about ten feet, kind of like the teeth of a giant zipper. Mine was in row two, almost at the opposite end of the park from the entrance we had just turned in. As we passed the first trailer in row two, Rose spoke up.
"That's Merrilee DuBois' trailer there. She's dating an old guy about seventy 'cause he's got money, but she likes young men. She jokes about her "young bucks" and her "daddy bucks". Across the road from her are Earl and Janice. She keeps Earl working night and day while she parties."
We drove along slowly as Rose pointed out trailer after trailer, talking about the occupants, their lifestyles, their scandals, their arrests, and so forth. She was a wealth of information. I hadn't been there long enough to learn any of that, but I would later come to appreciate the information.
As we pulled up in front of my place, I was glad I'd had the good sense to leave the outside light on. I turned the car off and rushed around to open the door for Rose and to offer her my hand. I knew I had little else to impress her, maybe good manners would help. She swung her legs out and took my hand. Even in the moonlight her shapely legs caught my eye and re-energized my glands.
"Thank you Randy." Her tone expressed she had not expected such courtesy. Perhaps I had scored some points. We walked around the car on the crude gravel walkway to the still-wobbly steps up leading to the door. I awkwardly reached around her to open the door and switched on the lights.
"Well, this is nice Randy! It still has that new smell. I like it!"
"Thank you Rose, can I take your sweater? Please make yourself at home."
She unbuttoned her sweater, sliding it off and handing it to me. She slowly strolled about the living room, pausing to examine the television and stereo component system. I hurried her sweater into the small second bedroom that contained the belongings I hadn't yet put away. As I looked at the piles of clothes on the bed and the numerous boxes I thought I'm glad I finally got that crap out of the car!
When I walked back into the room Rose was still looking at the system. "Nice equipment! How about some music?"
I pushed the power button and made an elaborate ceremony of energizing the speakers, adjusting dials, and throwing switches. Most of my actions were unnecessary and had no effect on the music, but my cheap stereo system had big speakers and lots of colorful lights and dials. Maybe my little show would impress her. Finally I tuned in some slow, rhythmic music as Rose seated herself on the couch. Turning to her I asked, "Can it get you something; a drink maybe?"
"Do you have any coke?" she asked. The room lights made her eyes flash again, sending my heart fluttering and my mind out to lunch.
"No, but I might have some Pepsi."
She stared at me blankly for a moment, then transitioned into a smile. "Never mind, I'm fine. Just come dance with me." It would be years before the true meaning of that exchange dawned on me. There was my naiveté glowing for this incredible woman to see, and I was truly clueless.
She rose to meet me as I walked toward her, pausing to turn on a table lamp. Following her lead, I turned and switched off the bright overhead light. In the soft light she again fell into my arms, our bodies swaying slowly in time with the music. My hands relished the fabric of her dress even as my desire was enflamed by the feel and scent of her hair against my cheek. She softly hummed along with the song, each perfect note delighting my ear, leaving me begging for more. Her whispered words jolted me back from my comfortable world.
"I really like your band, and I enjoyed your jokes."
"Thank you. We've been together for years. I'm more accustomed to people ignoring my jokes. I only tell them to fill in those awkward silences between songs."
"Well I thought you were cute."
I pulled back slightly to answer her and my eyes met hers. In that instant I was captivated. Her flame red hair, those amazing eyes, and now her lips that I hadn't noticed before were just inches away. I couldn't speak, couldn't think. It was as if I had fallen into a trance – a trance that ended when her arms wrapped around my neck and I found my lips tightly upon hers. The softness and warmth of her lips was unlike any I had ever known before. It was like a dream from which I never wished to awaken. I felt her body pressed against mine as I became instantly rigid.
The kiss faded and our faces separated. Her eyes still blazed at me, filled with a desire to match my own. We stared at each other for a moment before my lips again found hers. She made small whimpering sounds in my ear that sent my senses boiling. I held her tightly against me, as if by releasing her she would somehow disappear, leaving me alone and embarrassed. Lust filled my mind as desire filled my heart.
As our faces separated again, we stood looking blankly at each other, as if we waited for the other to say or do something. Finally I took her hand in mine and walked toward the couch. I turned off the table lamp, leaving us in near darkness. Suddenly she stopped and I turned back to her. I heard her speak softly.
"Sweetie, why bother with the couch? We both know where this is going. Where's your bedroom?"
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