Chapter 1: Balls Deep in Bobbi Jo

In 1967, I was twenty-one, a wet-behind-the-ears young man who had never been away from home. In a desperate effort to establish a life of my own, away from parental controls and limits, I took a job at a chemical plant outside of New Orleans. When I arrived in the Big Easy, I was a shy, inexperienced kid. When I left a year later, I was well on my way to becoming an adult. This is an account of some of the interesting people I met during that year, and how they helped to mold the man I eventually became.

"Well, check out that little cutie," Walt drawled in my ear as we stood in line at Burger King. The girl he was talking about was working the cash register. She was indeed a "cutie", a petite blue-eyed blonde, with dimples that seemed to be an inch deep. She was a real deep-south Barbie doll. I knew that someone like me would be invisible to her, as I had been to so many other girls and women in my pathetic life up to that time.

Walt and I had started work at the Union Carbide plant just up river from New Orleans on the same day. Even though we came from different backgrounds, we quickly formed a friendship. We made a good team. I was the plain, dull salt to Walt's lively, energetic pepper. Neither one of us could afford a place on our own, but we had found two other new hires in the same boat. The four of us had pooled our resources to rent and furnish a crummy little two-bedroom apartment about halfway between the place we worked, out in the sticks, and the night life of the French Quarter.

Even though I ad only known Walt for a couple of weeks, I was sure he would be able to connect with the girl behind the counter quickly. He was a tall, athletic redhead from Arkansas with a winning smile and an abundance of self-confidence. Walt was one of those men that other guys like to hang out with, and that cute fast-food cashiers flirt with. Sure enough, when we got to the head of the line, it only took him a few minutes to find out that her name was Cassie, and that she was new to the area also, having relocated from a small town in Mississippi about three months ago, after graduating from high school.

Walt's quick but productive conversation with Miss Burger King led to that fine bastion of great American fried food becoming our favorite hang out. It turned out that Cassie's best friend from back home had followed her to Louisiana and to the Burger King. Her name was Bobbi Jo, a classic Mississippi name, and she had the accent and laid-back attitude to go with it. Cassie and Bobbi Jo were just a couple of down-home girls who wanted to see the world and experience life in the big city. New Orleans was a natural magnet for young people in the South with that kind of desire. But by the time we met them, things didn't seem to be going to well for the girls. As Bobbi Jo said one night, they could have stayed home and worked at Burger King. Cassie still seemed to be enjoying the night life available in and around the French Quarter, but it didn't take a detective to tell that Bobbi Jo was homesick and frustrated.

Walt and I got into the habit of showing up there about half an hour before closing time, when business was slow. That gave us time to chat with the girls as they cleaned up. After the restaurant closed, we would hang out in the parking lot, talking for an hour or so, until they decided to go home. We would have liked to invite them over to our apartment, but our two roommates were always there, and it would have been uncomfortable. The girls never invited us to their place either. So for the next week or so we spent our evenings standing around the semi-dark parking lot, trading life stories and flirting.

Well, at least Walt and Cassie were flirting. Bobbi Jo and I were still not too comfortable with each other. I was much too shy to be at ease with someone I didn't know well, and Bobbi Jo was the kind of person who wasn't likely to start a conversation either. That meant we spent a lot of time standing around watching Walt and Cassie verbally make out, feeling like third and fourth wheels on the romantic bicycle that Walt and Cassie were trying to ride.

As long as she hung around Cassie, Bobbi Jo was destined to be overshadowed by her prettier, perkier friend, but she had some good features of her own. Cassie had one of those perfect, perky cheerleader type bodies. Bobbi Jo was more of a full-figured woman. She was a few inches taller than Cassie, with a full ass and impressive set of tits. From what I could see of her in her working clothes, she appeared to have a body that would be fun to play with, but you could tell that unless things changed she would have a weight problem before she turned thirty.

Bobbi Jo was just on the good side of plain, certainly not unattractive, but not the type of girl who would get attention walking down the street. She had a nice smile, but seemed reluctant to let it show. Her best feature was her wicked sense of humor. She seemed to know every dirty joke there was. When she was in the mood to tell some of her filthy stories, her smile and personality would finally emerge, and she was fun to be with. I gradually began to enjoy being around her, even though we never did talk much to each other.

I was a little surprised that Walt was showing so much interest in pursuing Cassie. Sure, she was a very attractive young lady, but Walt was engaged to a girl he had met in college. And we're not talking about just another hometown girl; she was the current Miss Arkansas. I never quite worked up the nerve to ask him if he didn't feel bad about chasing after women with his wedding to a beauty queen just a few months away. I knew that if I had landed a Miss Anything, I wouldn't have still been looking around. But, like I said, Walt and I marched to different drummers.

We were sitting around our apartment one evening trying to decide what to do. Walt was always ready to go party, and I was eager to follow his lead. I had led a sheltered, dull life for twenty-one years, and I was more than ready to spread my wings. We were also desperate to get away from our nerdy roommates, but our options were limited because we didn't have much money. The French Quarter can get expensive. Burger King was out, because it was the girls' night off.

Almost as if in answer to our wishes, the doorbell rang. I answered it, and was surprised to see Cassie and Bobbi Jo standing there. I invited them in, and noticed that Walt didn't seem to be as surprised by their visit as I was. I wondered if he and Cassie had arranged something and he just hadn't bothered to tell me about it. The six of us were sitting around our sparsely furnished living room, trying to make small talk, but it was awkward. Our slow-witted roommates didn't seem to take the hint and disappear, so it looked like any possibility of the evening developing into a spontaneous party were slim. But I should have known that my pussy-chasing buddy would have a plan.

After fifteen minutes or so of boring small talk, Walt excused himself and headed for the bedroom that we shared. He signaled me to follow him. "Cassie is really hot for me tonight," he whispered after closing the door. "And I think Bobbi Jo wants to fool around with you too." For a moment I thought he was going to suggest that we bring them into the bedroom with us, and I panicked at that idea. Having a four-way in that small room, with our roommates just outside wasn't something I was anxious to try. But Walt and Cassie had already worked out another arrangement. "We're gonna go for a ride," he told me. "And I want you to drive, so I can fool around with Cas in the back seat. How about it buddy, are you ready for some fun?"

Ready? Hell, I had been ready for years. I had only attempted intercourse once, and I'm not even sure if that time counted, because I came almost before I got my dick in her. My date was so pissed at me that she never went out with me again, and all of the other girls I had dated since that debacle (three in all) turned out to be good girls who were "saving themselves" for Mr. Right. That apparently wasn't me. Other than that one premature launch, my sexual experience had been limited to a couple of hand jobs and a little stinky finger.

But there were a few problems with Walt's idea. For one thing, my car was a 63 Corvair convertible. If you don't remember Corvairs, it was a compact car that Chevy came up with as an answer to small, cheap imports that were invading the US market in the sixties. The Corvair was a fun car to drive and fine for hauling around one person, or even two, but four? It had a very small back seat, and the idea of making out back there seemed impossible. I had tried, unsuccessfully, a couple of times, and Walt was about six inches taller than I was. Then there was the question of where to go. All of us were new to the area, and finding a good place to go make out isn't something you can call AAA and get a map for. But nothing was going to stop Walt that night.

We went back out to the living room, grabbed the girls, and headed out the door on the way to our impromptu adventure. As we walked toward my car, Bobbi Jo, who earlier had almost seemed to ignore me, started clinging to me like a long-lost lover. She put her arm over my shoulder, and cuddled up to me. I felt one impressive breast pressing against my ribs, and started to get a woodie before we even got to the car. Things were looking good already. I wasn't even worried about where to go anymore. Hell, that night I was so horny I could have ravished her on the grass in front of the apartment if that's the only place we could find.

We piled into my little car, looking like a troop of clowns getting ready for their grand entrance at the circus. I pulled out of the complex, and asked, "Does anybody know where we can go?"

The silence in the car would have made meditating monks proud. We all suddenly realized that none of us had a clue. So there we were, four horny young adults, driving around in the dark, looking for a local park-and-spark location. It proved to be a difficult and frustrating search. As the driver, everyone seemed to be counting on me to find a secluded spot, and quickly. From what I could hear, Walt and Cassie were already getting into each others clothes

In desperation, I finally turned down a dirt road that we had already passed by a couple of times. The headlights showed it to be a narrow, infrequently used trail, not much more than a path. I could hear brush scraping along the sides of my car as I slowly drove further away from the main road, and worried about what my car would look like after we got out. And at that point I wasn't at all sure we could get out. The surrounding woods looked so dark and mysterious that I was convinced that the trail would surely lead to a trailer deep in the woods, wherein dwelled a coonass with a shotgun, and at least two rabid dogs. If turning around had been an option, I would have taken it.

I drove for what seemed like ten miles, but what was actually maybe a couple hundred yards, when the road widened a little. "Pull over there," Walt said. In the tight confines of the car, his head was inches away from mine. Everyone had been very quiet since I had pulled off the highway, and the sudden sound of his voice right in my ear made me jump. But I saw what he meant; off to the right was a cleared off area big enough to park in and be well off the road. Not that there was a lot of traffic anyway, but it did seem like a good idea to not make ourselves too obvious.

After I stopped, we all sat there for a moment, quietly listening. I don't know what everyone else was trying to hear, but I was waiting for the sound of large, padded feet to come out of the surrounding woods, as some native Louisiana beasts came out to dine on a car full of stupid interlopers. OK, so I watched a lot of horror movies when I was a kid, and they left scars.

It didn't take long for Walt and Cassie to get back to business. I looked over at Bobbie Jo, but she didn't even look at me, she just stared straight ahead into the surrounding darkness. Come on, dumb ass, I told myself, here's where you're supposed to make your move. Nothing fancy, these girls want to get laid or they wouldn't be here, so just do something.