The Bedtime Tales of Be287m

The Ugly One, Chapter Seven

I slowly drifted awake. The memories of my dreams played through my mind. Images of Tamara’s nude body, Summer sucking my cock, even Angie in lingerie I’d never seen. I tried to sort through them, to pick and choose how to return to them. But the dreams did not return, not with the same vividness. I just lay there, wanting more.

The dreams haunted me the rest of the day. Particularly the one about Angie. I realized I had no idea how she’d look in lingerie. Angie had been impeccably dressed each time we’d been together, but it had all been loose fitting clothes. While she was by no means fat or stocky, she was also not skinny. She could be anything from trim and muscular to soft and plump under those clothes. I eventually realized I didn’t care. I liked her. I was attracted to her smile, her eyes, and the way she tilted her head. I was sure I’d be attracted to the rest of her. After all, she seemed to be attracted to ugly old me.

The rest of my preparations for our date went smoothly. I was fully decked out, arms full, when I rang Angie’s bell Saturday afternoon. I had my best broad over-the-top grin on when she opened the door. Angie saw me and started laughing.

“A Loden Huete?!?”

“I assume you mean the German hat and not the suit,” I replied deadpan, covering my nerves. She nodded. “I had to set the mood. And speaking of which . . .” I held out the mixed bouquet in my right hand “. . . for you.” Angie’s laughter softened into a smile as she took the flowers. She glanced at the bottle nestled in my other arm. I turned the label so she could see.

“Not champagne, German beer. The best I could find.” I said.

“Why beer?”

“You’ll see,” I replied, raising my eyebrows in an attempt to be mysterious. Angie just chuckled and shook her head.

“You look great, by the way,” I said. Angie smiled above a little blush. She wore a dress cinched at the waist, though loose above and below it. It exposed just enough cleavage to be more than conservative, but definitely classy. She caught me looking and I shrugged and tried to look innocent--the kid caught in the cookie jar. She rolled her eyes and shook her head.

She was still rolling her eyes as I held her car door for her a little later, the flowers and beer safely stashed in her house.

“I can’t believe the hat,” she commented. I grinned, though I was starting to wonder if I’d made a mistake.

“I already owned it,” I replied. “I bought it a few years ago on a whim. I wasn’t planning on wearing it where we’re going.”

“You do look good in that suit without it,” she said. I flushed a little.

“All my clothes are custom tailored,” I replied, “I think clothes can do a lot for my appearance.” Angie nodded.

“At the shop,” she stated, “we work hard to make sure the clothes flatter the woman, highlighting her good features and downplaying any problem areas. It’s really nice when we can find an outfit she looks good in and is really happy with.”

“Really? What things do you do? I mean, how do you know what will highlight or downplay someone’s body?"

“You really want to hear about my job?” she asked.

“Sure.”

“Wow. Most guys hear I’m in women’s clothing and tune out,” she said. I gave a disdainful shrug but didn’t say anything. The silence actually wasn’t uncomfortable.

“So tell me,” I urged after a bit. And Angie did. I listened as best I could while driving and keeping my eyes on the road. She talked of their clientele, which apparently covered a wide range of women, but were predominantly older with figures that reflected their age. While they had several clients who were as trim as teenagers, the majority were “working on it”--exercising assiduously as they attempted to lose the pregnancy pounds or tighten up what gravity was doing its best to untighten. In the meantime, they wanted to look good and even be dazzling on occasion. From dazzling to drop dead sexy was just a few tailored stitches and attitude, Angie explained.

“Attitude?” I asked.

“Attitude,” she affirmed. “If a woman feels sexy, she comes across as sexy. It doesn’t matter if she’s fifty or fifty pounds overweight.”

“I don’t know about that,” I said. “Guys can be pretty shallow.”

“True,” she replied with some bitterness. “But just because a guy can’t see it doesn’t mean she’s not sexy. Besides most of these women are dressing for their husbands who already think they’re sexy. That’s when it’s really great--when a regular comes back from a “date” with her husband gushing about his reaction to her new outfit. It doesn’t happen often, but when it does it makes it all worthwhile.”

“Yeah,” I replied. “I imagine so.”

About that time, we arrived at the Denver Performing Arts Complex. As we waited in line to get into the parking garage, I glanced over. Angie was studiously thinking. I guessed she was trying to figure out which theatre in the complex we were going to and I decided to help her out.

“Since you like movies,” I began, “I thought you might like a play that was based on a movie.”

“Instead of the other way around?”

“Correct. And it obviously has something to do with Germany.”

“'Cabaret'?” she asked.

“No, but it’s still a musical.” I started singing

“'The Producers'!” she shouted. Angie then started joyously laughing.

“That’s right,” I answered. “And afterwards, I know a great place to get pretzels, if you’re interested.”

“Oh my. Maybe,” she replied. “Though that will be dinner time, and I don’t think I want pretzels for dinner.”

“I have other plans for dinner,” I remarked.

“Oh ho! Are you going to tell me?”

“You’ll see,” I replied.

“Okay,” she answered. By then we’d found parking. A few minutes later we were in the theatre, about three quarters of the way back. It was the best seats I’d been able to find given my late plans and I was lucky to get them. The show hadn’t sold out only because it was a matinee.

Angie didn’t seem to care. She loved it. She giggled continuously during the scenes with the amorous little old ladies and whispered that it was hard to look at Alan Ruck and not think of his role in ‘Ferris Bueller’s Day Off’. We chatted during intermission about the cast and particular scenes and enthusiastically joined in the thunderous applause at the end of the show.

Afterwards, I led us out toward the street instead of the parking garage, telling Angie we needed to walk to our next destination. We wandered a few blocks over to the 16th Street pedestrian mall. We stopped a few feet from a pretzel vendor and I offered to get her one, but she declined, laughing. I then led her to the bar entrance to the Palomino. The upscale furnishings impressed her and there was enough of a crowd for it to be lively, but not noisy. I ordered us some German lagers and we sipped them, still talking about the show and then other musicals and plays. After we’d finished, I paid the tab and mentioned it was almost time for our dinner reservation.

“Where are we going?” Angie asked.

“Well, we were going to eat here, but a friend suggested that we’d enjoy Panzano much more,” I answered. Angie smiled.

“I like Panzano. Their bread is to die for,” she said.

We walked the few blocks over and I found that the bread was indeed to die for. The entire meal was incredible, from the gnocchi to the wine. Angie’s eyes began to glow toward the end of the evening, warm and friendly. I wanted to attribute it to the wine, but wasn’t sure.

Her glow persisted as we headed out into the night. It had gotten much colder, leading Angie to put on gloves and fully button her coat. As we walked, she seemed to still be cold because she kept brushing up against me, walking close. Our hands lightly collided, the cloth of gloves muffling the contact. I wondered if I should take her hand.

Oh. She was making it easy.

My head started to pound and my breathing picked up. The next time her hand brushed by, I opened my fingers and slid her palm into mine. She squeezed my hand in response. We walked in silence, holding hands, for the next few blocks. We stopped on 16th Street when we saw one of the horse drawn carriages that routinely ply the mall. I knew the ride was supposed to be romantic and I was wondering if I should suggest it when Angie started pulling me forward. I bit my tongue and we headed back to the car.

When we got to Angie’s she invited me in.

“We have to try the beer you brought,” she mused. I rapidly nodded my head in response. She slipped into the kitchen to get glasses, leaving me sitting on her couch, feeling my nerves start to jangle and pound. I caught myself drumming my fingers on my thigh.

Relax, I told myself. Relax. This was no different than sitting on Tamara’s couch. Angie returned with the beer and I gratefully wrapped my fingers around the glass. Angie was holding hers expectantly in front of her. Oh, of course. I raised mine.

“Cheers!” I said. Angie smiled and we clinked glasses, then took our first sips.

“My, this is good,” Angie remarked.

“A friend recommended it,” I replied.

“You have good friends.”

“That I do.”

I drank some more and thought about that. Maybe being just friends with Tamara would be pretty good after all. When I looked over, Angie had shifted position. She was sitting sideways on the couch, much closer to me than when she sat down. She leaned against the back of the couch, almost languorously.

“So,” she began, “are you this romantic with all the women you’ve dated?”

“Um, well, I haven’t dated much,” I confessed.

“Really? I’m surprised.” I just shrugged my shoulders.

“Didn’t your husband used to do things like this?”

“Mike? Oh no. He could be charming on occasion, but never romantic. That would have taken too much planning ahead.”

“It’s not that hard,” I replied. Angie sighed.

“Mike never thought about anyone but himself. Charm was just something he turned on to get what he wanted. I didn’t figure that out until way too late.”

“Oh.”

Angie smiled at me.

“You’re the only man to ever bring me flowers more than once, John.” I glanced down as I felt the blood rush to my face.

“I thought you’d like them,” I protested.

“I do!”

I looked back up. Angie was still smiling. She had set her beer down and seemed to be leaning in a little. She met my gaze and then her eyes flicked lower and then back.

Oh.

I slowly leaned in, my own eyes bouncing between her eyes and lips. I had to reach out to avoid falling and she slid forward into my arms. Before I could even think about it, we were kissing.

We kissed. Tender and soft. We kissed. Warm and slow. We kissed. Not with Summer’s ferocious lustiness or Tamara’s playfulness, but a passion all our own. We kissed.

We kissed for a long time. Mostly lips caressed lips, though mouths parted from time to time. I also went exploring, kissing her face and neck, though keeping quite high, avoiding any hint that this was the beginning of a seduction. We giggled at the accidental bump of noses. I pulled her into my lap and we kissed some more. We took breathers and just cuddled, sometimes for a few seconds, sometimes for minutes, before one of us would begin the kissing again. During one of our pauses I glanced at the clock and realized how late it had gotten. Of course, it took several more minutes of kissing and cuddling before I was finally escorted to the door. She asked me to call soon and I was quite willing to make that promise.

Angie and I did talk the next day, spending almost an hour on the phone. We talked several times during the week as well, though it was fleeting and bittersweet as the only night she was free was Thursday and I wasn’t ready to give up my time with Tamara and Billy yet.

And I was certainly glad I hadn’t. Tamara opened the door and gave me a big hug, grinning broadly. As she released me, I could hear Billy headed our way. He came bounding down the hall, wearing a green shirt and brown tights, with a felt hat on his head and carrying a plastic sword instead of his bow. I burst out laughing. Billy frowned at me.

“Sorry, Robin,” I apologized. “You surprised me. I wasn’t expecting to see you with a sword.”

“This one’s yours,” he informed me. “Mine’s in my bedroom.” With that he handed me the sword, then turned and headed back down the hall. I looked at Tamara.

“He wanted to get it for you,” she said with a shrug. What the heck. I followed Billy back to his room.

When I got there, Billy was holding his sword out, standing in something close to a guard position. I raised my sword.

“Prepare to be defeated!” I cried. “You may be better with a bow, Robin, but I am the master of the sword!”

With that, I thwapped my blade against Billy’s. We banged our swords against each other’s for a while and then I made a couple of light thrusts towards Billy’s arms and torso. Billy caught on--the object was not to stab one’s opponent’s sword after all. He began taking his own shots at me. I let our swordplay drift until I was engaged purely defensively, blocking Billy’s swings but making none of my own. Frustrated with my success, Billy speeded up his attacks and began swinging harder, which was unfortunate when I got clever and tried a feint. His sword smacked my hand and despite being plastic, it stung. Surprised, I dropped my blade.

“I’m sorry John! I’m sorry!”

“That’s okay,” I reassured Billy as I flexed my hand a couple of times. “No real damage done.” A light bruise would develop, if that. Billy still looked anxious.

“It was mostly the surprise,” I said. “You made a move I wasn’t expecting and you got me.”

“Yeah. I didn’t mean to hurt you though.”

“That’s okay,” I reassured him again. Billy had set his sword down so I picked mine up and placed it beside his. Then we sat on the bed.

“Speaking of surprises,” I asked, “how is Jesse’s coming along? Have you been able to identify any ‘Merry Men’?” Billy perked up.

“Yes! Jesse was picking on Ralph the other day, calling him Raphie the Buffalo. He’s kind of fat.” I nodded. Ralphie the Buffalo was the University of Colorado’s mascot, so it was a little clever though mean.

“So I talked to Ralph after school about being friends so maybe Jesse wouldn’t pick on us and he said he would.”

“That’s great!” I exclaimed. “So have you done anything together?”

“Well, we started eating lunch together.”

“Did Jesse pick on you while you were together?”

“Nah, but he doesn’t pick on either of us every day.”

“Anybody else?” I asked. Billy scrunched up his face while he thought.

“When Jesse was picking on Ralph, there were a bunch of kids watching. One of them, Ben, kept frowning. He didn’t like was Jesse was doing.”

“Did you talk to him?”

“No.”

“Why don’t you?”

“What should I say?” Billy asked.

I paused. How does one get allies? Ralph was clearly in the ‘the enemy of my enemy is my friend’ camp, but it wasn’t clear that a bystander would be interested in hanging out with a Downs kid with his funny looks and other limitations. Ben would risk becoming a target for Jesse and Frank himself. And if Ben rejected Billy . . .

I glanced at Billy and saw him watching me patiently, only fidgeting a little. I thought about the ‘Bens’ from my past and how they’d rejected my overtures. Other than the mutual enemy camp, the only other kids that had ever helped out had been friends first . . . .

“What if,” I began, “you tell Ben and Ralph that they’re invited to come to Dave and Buster’s with you and me? I’ll pay for the video games.”

“You would? You’d pay for the games?” Billy’s excitement lit up his eyes and voice.

“Sure,” I replied nonchalantly.

“That’s so cool!”

“So why don’t you ask them? We could go a week from Saturday, that is, if it’s okay with your mom.”

“Let’s go ask her!” Billy bounded off the bed towards the door. He called “Mom! Mom!” as I followed him toward the kitchen.

Tamara was smiling as she tried to get her dinner preparations set aside and pay attention to Billy’s fast paced narrative of what he wanted to do in the arcade. She seemed to catch the drift of it, nodding and agreeing in key points, before looking up at me.

“Are you sure you want to do this?” she asked. “Those boys can go through credits pretty fast.”

“I’m sure they can,” I said. “But I want to do this. It will be fun for them and I’ll enjoy watching them play together.” Tamara chuckled.

“I have a feeling you’ll be doing more than watching,” she teased. I feigned innocence and held up my open hands.

“Hey, can I help it if they’re going to need another player for some of the games?” Tamara’s chuckle turned into a full laugh.

“The man and the boys,” she joked, “I’m not sure it’s the cost of their toys so much as the ability to afford them.”

“If you’ve got it . . .” I retorted, maintaining my mock innocence. I looked down at Billy, who’d calmed down a little while watching our exchange.

“Looks like we’re going to play video games,” I told him.

“Yeah!” he shouted, raising his fists into the air.

“C’mon Billy, let’s go try another round with the swords while your mother finishes dinner.” Billy dropped his arms and led me out of the kitchen. I grinned at Tamara who mouthed ‘Thank you’ just before I left the room.

Billy didn’t hit me again, in large part because his heart wasn’t in it. Dinner came soon and afterwards I recounted my date to Tamara. She was delighted to hear how it had gone, almost to the point of embarrassing me. She chided me for not having set the next date up already; saying that just talking on the phone wasn’t enough. I promised to rectify that as soon as possible.

Which was easy to do. Angie met me for a quick lunch Sunday while Ashley was on a play date. We talked mostly about books and shared a passionate kiss in the parking lot before she had to go. We continued to talk on the phone during the week. With each conversation, I could feel myself relaxing more and more. It became easier to believe she liked me with each excited hello. We scheduled a longer date for the following Saturday, making it a big day. I’d spend the afternoon with Billy and his Merry Men, with Angie cooking me dinner in the evening.

When I showed up on Saturday to pick the boys up, I learned that the Merry Men had grown. In addition to Ralph and Ben, there was a skinny kid with glasses named Ed. Apparently Jesse had called him “Egghead Ed” and threatened to ‘crack him open’ if Ed didn’t give him the answers on a homework assignment. Ralph had heard the exchange and asked Billy if Ed could join them.

They were already excitedly running through the yard, playing with Billy’s bow. Tamara was sitting on the porch, watching and chuckling to herself. She waved as I approached.

“You ready for this?” she asked, indicating the exited cries and friendly chaos in the yard.

“I hope so,” I admitted. “Though I must admit I’m kind of excited myself.”

“Why?”

“I was a loner for far too much of my growing up. That was as bad as being ugly. Now I’m about to go play video games with four other guys? So what if I’m 30?”

Tamara cracked up laughing.

“It’s never too late to have a happy childhood!” she recited.

“No, it’s never too late,” I replied. I turned and joined her in watching the boys run. I ached a little inside, even as I sensed Billy’s joy as he played. Eventually the four-headed dervish whirled to the edge of the porch and broke into individual boys. With a nod to Tamara, we were off.

The boys loved it! They tore through the arcade playing almost everything at least once. They broke into pairs for ‘Time Crisis’ and ‘Crisis Zone’ but I was happy to see they mixed up the pairings when they moved to the other games like the Star Wars arcade. They poked into the carnival game side of the arcade, but other than throwing a few baskets in ‘Super Shot Basketball’, they seemed more interested in the electronic games. I agreed that they could play on any of them that they wanted as long as they didn’t leave the arcade itself and go into the bar or the billiards area.

Then they found ‘Tokyo Wars’. It allowed four players at once and with a little patience, they were able to snag all the seats. It was a tank battle game and they seemed to be enthralled, restarting it again and again. I watched, amused, until I got a feel for the strategies, at least in the early part. I relaxed and started glancing around the arcade, just seeing if the chaotic energy of the ‘Merry Men’ was typical.

That’s when I saw it. Standing in a darkened corner not far from ‘Tokyo Wars’, was a much older, boxier game. It was ‘Space Invaders.’ I started chuckling. Someone had actually refurbished a twenty year old game and put it in the arcade.

I strolled over. No one was playing it at the moment. I looked it over. It really was the original game. The console was a little worn, but the buttons looked in good shape. I reached out and gave the joystick a couple of jerks. It responded fine. I took a deep breath and slide my Power Card through.

It had been twenty years. I’d never gotten very good, in large part because I’d hadn’t been able to play that often. We never owned an Atari and I didn’t have enough friends to get invited over to play on theirs. The few times I’d gone to an arcade to spend my own quarters, the machine had been hogged by the other kids. I played a lot of ‘Asteroids’ as a consolation.

But this time I seemed to have the touch. It took a few rounds to get the hang of it again, but then I was blasting the invaders from screen after screen after screen. I lost track of the credits I was spending and played and played and played. Finally, after dying in one game, there was a tug on my sleeve. It was Billy.

“John, can we get some pop? We’re thirsty.” I nodded as I turned from the game.

“Sure, let’s take a break and go over into the restaurant. Grab the rest of the guys.”

I watched the guys as they figured out their drinks and conned me into getting some nachos as well. I was surprised at the amount of genuine friendliness. I remembered too many ‘friends’ who really weren’t when I was younger. In particular I watched Ben, since he had never been one of Jesse’s targets. He seemed to genuinely be having a good time and as involved as the other boys. There were two or three conversations going continually as they discussed the games they’d played and the ones they wanted to play and what else they wanted to do. It wasn’t quiet until the nachos arrived as they all dug in. I cleared my throat to get their attention.

“So, gentlemen, there is one thing we need to do today besides have fun.” They just stared at me so I continued.

“We need to talk about Jesse and Frank.” Ralph ducked his head and Ed suddenly found the table top to be a fascinating study. “I know that none of you like what they do, but that each of you has been unable to stop them by yourselves.”

“You want us to gang up on them together?” Ed asked.

“No, or at least, not yet. We don’t want to get into any fights if we don’t have to.” Ralph let out a deep whoosh of breath with that line. “Beating Jesse up probably won’t stop him from getting even later. Nor do we want to involve any adults if we can.”

“Why not?” Ben asked.

“Has telling a teacher done any good?” I asked. Ben vociferously shook his head no.

“It’s too easy for Jesse to only do stuff when the adults aren’t looking, and then you guys get caught and get in trouble instead. So no adults.”

“You’re an adult!” Ed pointed out.

“True, but I’m just an advisor. I’m not going to do anything to stop Jesse and Frank. You guys are. Think of me as . . . as kind of a coach. Coaches don’t actually play on the field do they?” That drew a chorus of no’s.

“So as your coach,” I continued, “the first step is to get you guys to start working as a team.” That drew a round of ‘what?’ and ‘huh?’ and other confused questions. I held my hands out to pause the conversation.

“Have you ever seen Jesse pick on a group of kids?”

“No!” Billy shouted. The others called out their agreement.

“So the first step is to hang out as a group. He’s not going to pick on Ralph here if Billy and Ben are with him. And the same with you, Ed. He’ll probably leave you alone when you’re with the other guys.”

“But we can’t be together all the time. There are some times he’s going to catch us alone,” Ed moped.

“True, but those times when you’re alone will be fewer,” I reassured him.

“As for the next step,” I continued, “we’ll do that by example. When we get back to the arcade, I want you guys to get on ‘Tokyo Wars’ again, but this time, instead of being two on two, I want you to have three guys on one team and the fourth on the other. We’ll play enough times so that each of you can see if you’re good enough to beat the other three by yourself, and then we’ll finish with a couple of games where you’re all on the same team against the computer.”

“Yeah! Sounds fun! Let’s go play!”

I glanced down and the nachos had been demolished. I nodded my assent and they were off like a shot. Ed lingered a little behind.

“I know that three on one should win anytime. So why should we play the game that way?” he asked.

“Because I want you to feel it,” I replied. “I want you to know it here,” I said, pointing to my heart, “and not just here,” pointing to my head. Ed’s brow furrowed.

“Go play,” I urged.

Which they did with enthusiasm. Once they’d gotten all four consoles, they set about playing the games I’d suggested. In all of the three-on-one games, the solo player got waxed pretty quickly. Ben survived the longest, but it wasn’t by much. I watched each of them taste the bitterness of their defeats for a little while as they waited for the next round to start. The games against the computer were a solid success, with the ‘Merry Men’ team pretty handily killing more enemy tanks then they lost among their own units. I let them play another handful of games before I declared it time to go.

By prior arrangement, I dropped each of the boys off at his house. We got waves and thanks and then it was just Billy and me. We rode in silence for a while.

“Thanks John,” Billy said, breaking the quiet. “Today was like a dream come true.”

“Yes it was,” I agreed. “Yes it was.” A dream that had never haunted me, but that I’d always wished would come true. Now it appeared it was. And the day wasn’t even done.

--Fin--

© 2004, all rights reserved.

Read the next chapter in this story: Chapter Eight.

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