Danny's Job

by Jimmy Hat

© 1999

ONE

"How many times do I have to tell you guys that it's not like that?" asked Dan from the back seat.

"How many times do I have to give you a ride to work?" asked Burt, looking into the rear view mirror as he spoke.

Johnny cackled in the back seat next to Dan. "No, Dan, seriously. Do you get to rub the shampoo in their hair, too, or what?"

"No," said Dan, reluctantly giving in to the interrogation, "I just rinse off the mud so it doesn't get all over the dressing room. They take a whole shower inside after that, and I don't help at all."

"So they're not naked, huh?" asked Burt.

"No! I've told you that before."

"You get to towel them off, though, right?" Johnny asked. Once the group got on the topic of Dan's job at Old Man Barnes's, Johnny never let it go.

"No, I just hand them the damn towels. OK, so that one time, I put the towel around one of the girls shoulders, and so now she thinks its cute and wants me to do the same thing every time. But that's it."

"Maybe you should offer to towel them off," Burt said.

"It's just not like that," Dan protested. "Johnny, let me ask you a question. You get to see some nice cars at the garage, right?"

"Sure," Johnny answered.

"You do the detail work, change the oil, all that shit?"

"Yeah, sure." Johnny was clearly annoyed. He feared that the conversation was moving away from the girls at Old Man Barnes's and onto decidedly more boring things.

"Do you ever get to drive those cars around town? Have you ever even been behind the wheel except to move them in and out of the damn garage? Well, it's the same thing at Old Man Barnes's. I just clean the pretty cars, I don't drive them."

"Bullshit!" Pinto finally said something form the passenger seat. "I get to eat french fries at Burger World!"

Even Dan laughed at that, but he still rebuffed the joke. "Well, the french fries at Old Man Barnes's bite back."

"Not to mention the fucking bouncers," Burt added helpfully from the front seat.

"I still think your job is like paradise," said Johnny.

"Look," Dan said, wanting to end the discussion, "I spend most of the time lugging cases of beer from the cooler outside to behind the bar. I can sneak a peek or two when I'm collecting empties from tables or walking behind one of the waitresses, but most of the time I can't see shit through the crowd."

"You do get to talk to Mrs. Turner a lot," said Burt.

"Number one milf," added Pinto.

"Eee-eff-tee, baby," said Johnny.

"Pure jay-oh-em for you, Johnny-boy," joked Burt. "Keep dreaming!"

Mrs. Turner was Diane Turner, bartender at Old Man Barnes's and mother of Tommy Turner. There was only one reason the guys hung around Tommy, and that was Mrs. Turner. MILF stood for 'Mother I'd Like to Fuck'. MILF was one of the long list of acronyms and euphemisms that the gang used to talk about girls and sex: EFT meant 'extremely fuckable tits', JOM meant 'jerk-off material'.

The boys had invented a whole sub language. More importantly, they created a proxy for sexual experience. If they were nervous about their own inexperience, they could at least take comfort in the command of their own jargon.

Johnny ignored the insult and kept on pestering Dan. "Hey, Dan, do you think you'll ever give Mrs. Turner a shower?"

Dan chose to ignore Johnny. "Y'know, it's not like any of them even notice. I'm just a kid to those girls. They're all older, especially Mrs. Turner."

"Christina Rosinski isn't older," said Burt.

"Dude," said Johnny, "I heard that Christina started working there last year when she was still a senior!"

"Now that girl is fine," Pinto said.

"Well she doesn't care about me either," said Dan as they pulled into Old Man Barnes's parking lot. "I'm telling you, man," Dan went on, stepping out of the car, "it's just a job. And not a great one at that. I get home at 3am with a sore back and all smelling like cigarettes. And they only do the mud wrestling on Friday night. I work other nights, too, remember?"

"So does Mrs. Turner!" added Pinto.

The boys exchanged high fives and howled like wolves. They were still making those noises as they pulled away from the lot.

TWO

Dan had a fantasy that he played over and over in his mind. Scratch that, he was a teenager and he had about fifteen good fantasies that he liked to imagine and reimagine. But this one was about work, and the gang's teasing had got him thinking about it as he made the evening's first mindless trips lugging cases of beer bottles.

The daydream went something like this: during the last mud wrestling match of the night there is a raid. Not dark blue police uniforms, but the khaki of a sheriff's department that lets you see the nightsticks hanging next to their leg and the pistol holstered on the other side. They mean business. They start clearing out the place, although people are scurrying out so quickly that the officers don't really have to do much.

However, Dan stays around. Maybe that don't notice him. Maybe they don't fuss about a boy. Two of the deputies handcuff Old Man Barnes and take him away, kicking and screaming. Yet Dan is no bother.

The girls on stage, in the mud, are still in shock. The referee is long gone, but they haven't moved. A deputy approaches and orders them to get out. "Can we get rinsed off?" one asks meekly.

"No," the deputy answers, "You can wash up at the station."

One of them teases him, "Maybe you should come up here and arrest us."

There is no one else left except Dan, and the world is pretty much ignoring him at this point. The deputy takes the bait and steps in the ring after taking off his gun belt.

"I just want to let you ladies know I don't mean to hurt you!" he says with an easy smile. Only he has no idea what he's in for. Whatever weight lifting, donut eating regiment he uses is nothing compared to these girls. They do aerobics to stay trim, run, play nude beach volleyball, whatever. And moving in the mud is tough. They tell Dan that only swimming helps your body get used to fighting the weight, and barely at that. Besides, they practice every Friday. The deputy doesn't know what he's in for.

None of the wrestlers wear one piece suits, as it just gives your opponent something to grab and hold. So bikini tops it is, and the clutching and sliding soon pulls them off. That's what the crowd pays to see, right? So they are bare chested already when the deputy steps in the ring, although covered in mud up to their necks.

He stares at their tits and they make him pay by putting him flat on his back. He gets serious at that point, but they are too much for him two on one. They pin him again, with one mud covered mess of a woman sitting on his chest, bouncing around giggling.

"Danny!" one of them calls to him. "Bring us the hose!" So maybe they do notice him.

Dan does as ordered, and soon the green hose snakes across the bar into the ring. One of the girls takes hold of it and orders the deputy to strip. He does so eagerly and with a smile on his face. The hose bearer starts to wash him off, first his head and face so that he can see. Then she turns her attention to her tag team partner.

There is no nozzle on the end of the hose, and the water pressure is not great enough to fashion a spray with a thumb. So the first girl washes the second by slowly trickling the water, starting at her shoulders. The effect of the gentle flow is fantastic. The clear water cuts small rivers through the thin layer of soil, all converging on the delta between her thighs. They split again there and trickle down her legs. Slowly, the bumpy irregular mud smears are peeled away, exposing the smooth skin below. It is a tortuously long strip tease.

The women switch places before returning their attention to the deputy. He doesn't seem to mind. The clean girl steps over the hose to move around her muddy counterpart. As she washes, the hose pulls tight against her crotch.

"You need any help with that?" the deputy asks.

"Oh, you mean this?" comes the response. She grabs the end of the hose dragging between her legs and lifts it up so that both ends are pulled tight against her bottom. Then she rubs the hose back and forth.

The water no longer strikes her partner, but the two are now clean except for the feet anyway. It's now the deputy's turn. They strip him down, with some trouble getting his underwear over his bulging member. No sooner have they rinsed off his cock then they are taking turns leaning over and sucking it.

The deputy's hands find their to their jewel boxes, and he slides inside. He drops to his knees and pushes licks at them while they put their legs up on the ropes of the ring to give him better access. All three find their way to the floor, and they are again awash in mud as their eager hands explore.

One of the girls climbs atop the other, wanting to lick her tender flesh. But the mud is all around. She looks for the hose, but instead she finds Dan.

"Danny!" she calls. "Wanna help? Bring the hose over here! Wash her. Keep washing."

So Danny does as told, as he always does at Old Man Barnes's, washing mud away from the girls. Only this time there are two, and they're licking each other, and a sheriff's deputy is kneeling behind one and fucking her.

At this point the fantasy diverges. A few times he simply holds the hose there, rinsing one woman's chin and the other's quim at the same time, watching as the threesome reaches orgasm. Instead, Dan might wander to the back, and watch as the hairy chested man pulls out and comes in white streaks before slipping his softening prick back into the wet pussy or willing mouth. Then Dan can rinse away the jism and take his turn humping.

"Oh, Danny!" moans the girl on top, no longer able to concentrate on licking her friend.

Recently Dan started imaging another variation entirely. The sheriff himself enters the ring. The girls slide away from each other, and get on their knees. The two men and Danny all take turns either sliding into a pussy from behind or letting both of the sexually charged women lick cock and balls.

"Like it, Danny?" one teases while the other takes his full length into her mouth.

In his favorite version, though, the four pair off, and Dan ends up on his back, with a shapely athletic body riding his prick. Her tits bounce up and down, and she moans his name, "Oh, Dan! ". Not Danny, like everyone calls him at Old Man Barnes's, but Dan.

"Oh, Dan!"

His back slides against the warm thick mud much as his dick glides along the sugar walls of his lover.

"Dan!"

The sensation is too much, and he feels it all slipping away.

"Danny!"

He looked up.

"Danny!" Old Man Barnes yelled again, "I told you four cases of Miller, not five! Now get your head out of your ass, or whatever pretty pink pussy you're daydreaming about, and start bringing in the Budweiser!"

THREE

The truth was Old Man Barnes was a sonofabitch. He knew why Dan took the job, the reason why Dan's friends still thought the job was paradise, and he made sure to tease the hell out of the boy for it. Dan was convinced that Old Man Barnes made him rinse off the girls as a way of mocking his virginity. Not that he ever told Old Man Barnes, but the crusty hawk could probably smell it. Dan already suspected that women could, especially teenage girls.

So it was that Old Man Barnes seemed to read his mind just then, and catch him in his act of mental masturbation. Not that it stopped Dan from replaying the fantasy a couple dozen more times in his mind's eye. The girls in the scene changed often. Although Dan was partial to Sharon, the blonde with the BJL (Blow-Job Lips - that was Pinto's term for a full pouting mouth), and Roxanne, with dark curly hair and a tiny waist, tonight his inventions centered on Christina Rosinski.

When Dan had the chance to look through a men's magazine like Penthouse or Top Hat, sometimes he would notice that the girls posing were still teenagers. Maybe nineteen was a little older than the girls he knew at school, but not by much. Only the girls at school never looked like that.

Except for Christina Rosinski. She was clearly not for them. There were male teachers that couldn't look her in the eye.

Normally, he did not even try thinking about her. It was not as if she were merely an unreachable goal, like the high school quarterback's girlfriend, or the prom queen. She was beyond that: a reminder that he was just a boy, and that a dictionary full of sexual acronyms wasn't going to change that. However, that Friday night he could not shake the thought of her, and then it was too late to try.

"Christy Rose" (that was her stage name) had just been pinned, and was headed backstage while the victor received her accolades. Dan stopped busing tables and headed back to the shower area. He swallowed hard.

"I can't believe that trailer trash bitch beat me," she said, shaking her head. "I need to get out of here tonight."

She completely ignored him as he aimed the hose over her shoulders and back. Unlike the fantasy hose, this one had a nozzle, and the small shower of water made for a fast clean up. But not fast enough.

While hosing her front side, Dan noticed something. She had a navel ring. He didn't know if it was new, or if he had simply overlooked it before. It wrecked his concentration, and he was soon swimming again in Christina Rosinski-land, fitting this new variable into the equations of his fantasies.

"Look, just rinse me all off, OK, I gotta get the fuck outta here," she said. She actually pulled off her bikini bottoms, turning over and displaying her pudenda so Dan could wash away the last traces of mud.

Dan stared at her ass, the puffiness of her sex, and the wips of hair. This was not a girl in a dream, this was a live naked dreamgirl. Stunned, Dan held the hose stiffly in position. There was even more to his rigidity, but he prayed that she wouldn't notice, or that she would at least play it cool.

She noticed his erection, and she was not in the mood to be cool.

"Oh for fuck's sake, have you never seen a woman naked before? I can't deal with this amateur hour bullshit. I have to out of this fucking place tonight!"

Reality, it seemed, didn't work like fantasy.

FOUR

Word soon spread of Dan's new found enthusiasm for his work. Mercifully, none of the girls mentioned it. Predictably, Old Man Barnes couldn't speak of anything else.

Danny was behind the bar, transferring beer bottles to the fridge. He could not bear to look at Mrs. Turner. But Old Man Barnes found him and leaned into him again.

"I'm actually glad that happened. I was beginning to think you was either a eunuch or a faggot! But don't go tearing up the girls, stud. You'll weaken 'em up and they won't be able to wrestle!"

Old Man Barnes left chuckling to himself and chomping on the butt of his cigar. Dan just sighed.

"Don't listen to a thing he says," said Mrs. Turner.

Dan looked up at her, and then shifted his gaze back to the fridge.

"Oh, Danny, stop moping!" she pleaded. "It's no big deal. Listen, at your age, I'm surprised you aren't walking around her with a permanent hard- on."

Mrs. Turner's attempt at consolation was not helping. He rarely talked to her at Old Man Barnes's, and he really didn't walk to talk to a friend's mother about this. She changed tactics.

"Danny, look at me," she ordered.

Danny stopped his work and looked at her. Damnit, she was a pretty woman, he though to himself.

"Danny, every girl here thinks you're a real gentleman, and a cute one at that."

"Really?"

"Really. No one is worried about you attacking them backstage. More important, they all know Old Man Barnes is an asshole and that Rosinski is a pissy little bitch. So please, do yourself a favor and ignore them. Just get on with your work and forget about it, ok, Danny?"

"Thanks, Mrs. Turner," Dan said. As an afterthought he added, "My friends call me Dan. It sounds less like a kid's name."

"OK, Dan," she said, grinning. "Cal me Diane. It sounds less like an old woman's name."

For the first time since Christina Rosinski blew up at him, Dan smiled. It didn't last long. It was at that moment that the place was raided.

FIVE

Once again, fantasy was nothing like reality. Sure, the sheriff's uniforms were khaki, but the two plains clothes officers were unexpected. One of them was a woman, Dan noticed, and a pretty one at that, with great blue eyes. The eyes meant business, though, and she was the one who left with Old Man Barnes in cuffs.

None of them got in the ring with the girls, though. Neither did they ignore Danny. He was taken to the county courthouse like everyone else.

He was released, though, like everyone except Old Man Barnes.

Diane Turner offered him a lift home when her ride arrived, but he declined. "Your mother on the way?" she asked delicately.

"Actually, I didn't exactly call my parents," Dan said. "Burt and the guys are getting me."

Diane nodded knowingly. "I won't tell," she said. "But this will be in the paper tomorrow. They'll know."

"Yeah, I'll tell them tomorrow," Dan replied. "I don't want them to worry tonight."

Burt pulled up in his early model POS (piece of shit), and Dan grabbed for the rear door.

"No, no," said Pinto, getting out of the front seat. "When one of us gets pinched, we let 'em ride shotgun."

Dan thanked him and explained what happened as they drove off.

Johnny was furious in the backseat. "I can't believe it. They bust that place before i even have a chance to get in and enjoy the show."

"There are other T and A joints," said Burt from the front.

"Not with mud wrestling," said Johnny. "Not with Christina Rosinski."

"Rosinski is a pissy little bitch, " Dan said matter-of-factly.

"Yeah, well, will you at least admit you may miss that job now?" retorted Johnny.

"Yeah, man," said Pinto, "You're probably gonna go into withdrawal or something."

"No," said Dan, "I don't think so." He looked back at the two of them and tapped an index finger against his temple, "I got enough JOM up here to last a lifetime."