Brady Damron arrived at the Columbus airport late Friday afternoon and was told that his flight had been cancelled. There would be no flights out until Monday. Having just spent the week working with Craftwood, a kitchen cabinet manufacturer in Arkana, he wasn’t looking forward to spending the weekend in Starkville, the home of Mississippi State University. Checking at the Marriott for a room he was told that this was the weekend of the Mississippi State/Ole Miss football game. Every accommodation in town was fully booked. Frustrated, he drove the short distance to the Bully (named for the Mississippi State mascot Bulldog), a popular collegiate bar and restaurant where he would have a couple of beers and a barbecue dinner. At least he would be able to ogle some of the beautiful southern gals who co-eds at the university.
When he got there the Bully was jammed. Because Brady had been a regular customer over the years the manager moved him ahead of another couple and seated him at a table for two that had just opened up. As he was sitting down he noticed four sorority girls having beers at the table just across from his. Having ordered a pitcher of beer he was peeling a plate of boiled shrimp when he heard a raucous chorus of laughter coming from that table. Looking over he saw that each of the four girls were looking at him as they laughed. He thought they might be laughing at something he had done and was uncomfortable. Glancing at the table again he saw that the girl sitting directly opposite him was stifling a laugh, looking at him through downcast eyes but was blushing. She mouthed words in direction: “I’m sorry.”
Figuring that the girl said something naughty about him Brady recalled some of the numerous embarrassing moments he had caused himself in his life and simply overlooked it. Nodding back to her he mouthed, “No problem, you’re forgiven.”
She blushed again, gave him a demure smile and mouthed, “Thank you.” The look she gave him made him realize how attractive the girl was and he thought, Jesus, you’re a doll.
Just as he had finished peeling all the shrimp he dipped one in chili sauce mixed with horseradish and took a bite. Hearing the scraping of chairs at the table where the girls were sitting he looked over to see three of the girls getting up, apparently leaving. But the girl with whom he had been lip synching sat resolutely as the rest of her friends were walking away laughing and shaking their heads. They seemed to be making fun of her.
A couple of fraternity guys walked up to the girl. Though she wasn’t an absolute beauty queen she was still an attractive, demure and soft looking southern belle. When the guys started to sit down at her table she shook her head, said something to them and nodded in Brady’s direction. Both of the fraternity men looked at Brady, laughed and looked back at the girl. He heard one of them say, “You’ve got to be kidding Darlie.” Shaking their heads the two young men walked away. As they passed, one looked at Brady with a malevolent smirk and sarcastic laugh.
Amid the buzzing, boisterous crowd of college students that were getting hyped for the big game the next day Brady sat eating his shrimp. Suddenly he realized that the girl was standing next to his table. Dressed in college preppie attire, a white blouse under a red cardigan sweater, a flaring knee length black pleated skirt and saddle shoes with white anklet socks; she was looking down at him. Brady was fifty. He couldn’t figure out what was on her mind. She was maybe twenty-one or twenty-two, a fetchingly attractive girl with long dark hair, blue eyes and the kind of pouting lips that begged to be kissed. She asked, “Do you mind if I sit down?”
Like many mature men Brady often fantasized being with a girl young enough to be his daughter but never really expected that he would. Puzzled he stood up, moved around behind the chair on the other side of the table and pulled it out for her. “I’d be pleased to have you sit with me,” he said. “I’m just a little puzzled as to why you would WANT to.” There was no question that she was flirting with him. Chuckling he went on, “You have the pick these young, college men young lady, why would you choose a man my age?”
Sitting down she said, “None of these boys would have bothered to tend my chair for me.” With a mock look of shock she coyly put her hand over her mouth and giggled. “They might pull it out from under me. But not in the gentlemanly way you have.” Like a proper young lady she folded her hands in her lap and said, “When I first noticed you I was hoping you would be just such a gentleman.” What the hell is going on here, he thought.
The way she said it was so southern: Chair sounded like chay-a, gentleman sounded like gentlemayan. And instead of saying “you” she said it the southern way, “you.” To Brady it almost seemed like he was being addressed by a girl from the movie Gone with the Wind. Reaching across the table she extended her hand and said, “My name is Darlie, Darlie Culbertson.”
He took her hand in his. It was soft yet firm. “I’m Brady Damron, Darlie Culbertson,” he replied. “I’m pleased to meet you.” Her mouth glowed with a fresh-toothed grin and she batted her eyes. She was gorgeous. Clearing his throat Brady said, “May I ask you, Darlie Culbertson, what interests you in sitting with a man who is old enough to be your father?”
In her captivating southern drawl she said, “I deeply love ma fatha, sir. He is a true suthn gentleman.” She flashed a confident smile. “Though you are a Yankee Mistah Damron, you carry yourself like gentleman. I’m partial to gentlemen. I hope you don’t mind.”
Realty told Brady that any kind of involvement with a woman of this age was out of the question. Hell, she’s barely even a woman. It’s not that he hadn’t screwed around in his life. He’d done it many times. But he’d always been more comfortable with older, more mature women—Tess McBride for example, the receptionist at Craftwood Kitchen Cabinets in Arkana. Tess was a woman of nearly fifty. She knew all about the pleasures of her body, and what it had to offer a man like Brady. She had the patience to wait for and enjoy each sensual spot being explored by a man who knew how to open such sensual locks. Tess had come to Brady’s cottage at Oktapotomi once during the last week.
Then there was Wilma Dillard, Assistant to the President of Craftwood Kitchen Cabinets. And what an unusual woman she was. She and Brady spent much of Tuesday night together. Brady doubted that this young woman across from him would have the patience he was comfortable with in an older woman like Wilma. Besides Wilma was a pro. If he should be so lucky to spend the night with this beautiful young girl he imagined she would probably want some fast and easy thrills. But Brady was no different than any fifty year old man, susceptible to the pull of an attractive, youthful woman whose body is at the pinnacle of perfection.
Just as he was about to excuse himself and exhort the young studs in the Bully to, “go to it boys,” he thought what the hell and said, “You’ll probably be going back to your sorority house, Darlie Culbertson, getting ready for the big game tomorrow.” It was a graceful way to test the waters. He had no realistic hope that anything would come of it. With Tess’s husband back from hauling lumber downstate Brady, unable to get a flight home, had resigned himself to spending the weekend alone with his five-fingered friend. Wilma? She’ll be working her night job at the reception desk of the Oktapotomi. He laughed and thought, who would even believe me if I told them why the Assistant to the President of Craftwood was doing that? He shook his head as he thought funny stuff goes on down here in the south.
With a trifling smile Darlie toyed absently with a lock of her hair and said, “To tell you the truth Mr. Damron I’m not as wild about football as most of the students at State are. I’m rather enjoying the pleasure of your company.” Gently clasping her hands she placed them on top of the table and added, “That is if you don’t mind spending a little more time with an inexperienced sorority girl like me.”
The way the girl was coming on to him convinced Brady that he was being set up for some kind of college prank. Nonetheless his heightened pulse was smoothing out the wrinkles of his limp dick. He chuckled and said, “My plane developed engine trouble Darlie Culbertson and I’m stuck in Mississippi until Monday morning.” Thinking hard about saying what was on his mind he wondered what kind of hook the girl was trying to set. “But I don’t expect what you’re talking about is spending THAT much time with this older man.” Having called her bluff he expected to see a change in her bearing that would indicate that he misread her meaning. Looking around the restaurant to see if her sorority sisters were lurking he saw no trace of them. The way Darlie looked so deeply into his eyes was as if she was getting ready to scold him for thinking something outrageous.
She pouted and said, “Tsk, tsk, Mr. Damron.”
Embarrassed, Brady tried not to act like he had done something outlandish. By the way she was looking at him he knew that he couldn’t hide the surprise on his face. The cat was already out of the bag when he started to say, “I...”
Reaching across the table she touched his lips with her index finger to silence him and said, “I’m such a terrible flirt Mr. Damron, may I call you Brady?” Still trying to figure out whether it was a game or not he nodded.
.... There is more of this story ...