Eddie the Lover
I'm a guy who likes women, and I've had my share of success with them, but I couldn't hold a candle to Eddie Morris. It's been forty five years since I first met him, back in the late 1960s, and I still am amazed at the way he could get women into bed.
I met Eddie when I was in college, working at a summer job as a dishwasher at the Willow Run Country Club. It was a pretty fancy club, and only the richest folks from the Main Line of Philadelphia belonged to it. You know the type: the men all had names like J. Price Williams or Farley Winston III, and the women had short little noses and tans from all the time they spent at their winter homes in Palm Beach. They came from a long line of bluebloods, and they looked down on us poor slobs in the kitchen.
And Eddie was the slobbiest of them all. He was about six years older than me, in his mid-twenties, and he wasn't a college kid like me. Oh, he had dropped in and out of college several times, but basically he was a pot-smoking, overweight, disheveled guy with acne scars who would have spent all his time reading books if he didn't have to make a living. He washed dishes so he could make the minimum amount of money he needed to live, and he had no ambition beyond that.
And women loved him.
I would not have believed that women would have even given Eddie a second glance if I didn't see it for myself. He had girls all the time, tons of them, and very attractive ones, too. Eddie didn't own a car but he didn't need one: there was always a girl dropping him off at work in a snazzy car, and another one (always different) picking him up when his shift was over. He had girls driving him around all over the place, calling him at work, even stopping by the kitchen to bring him sandwiches, sodas, books -- you wouldn't believe what they brought him. He lived in a shabby apartment in the low rent district, but he spent most of his nights in much better circumstances -- in the beds of his various girlfriends.
When I saw all this, it became my mission to become friendly with Eddie, to find out what his secret was. I had tried really hard in my life to have success with girls, but the results had been very mixed so far. I couldn't understand how Eddie could have the success he did when he seemed the opposite of what I thought girls liked: a handsome guy with a nice car and some ambition to make something of himself.
Of course, this was the late Sixties, and things were changing. It was the hippie era, and girls were starting to be more interested in unconventional guys. Long hair was in, drugs were becoming more common, the old model of masculinity was changing.
It didn't make sense that a guy who looked like he slept in his clothes, who had a paunch, and who seemed to have no ambition other than to smoke a joint and to read Philosophy books, would have girls attracted to him like bees to honey.
"What's your secret?" I asked him, one day when we were on our lunch break, sitting on the loading dock behind the kitchen. "Why are so many girls attracted to you?"
"They like me because I break all the rules," he said. "I'm not the guy their mothers raised them to go out with. They like that I'm different, that I flaunt all the values they're supposed to hold. I'm sloppy, and I'm not good-looking, and I belch and fart in front of them. I especially do that if I meet their parents -- that's a must. Also, I like to put them down. The more of a narcisisstic, self-absorbed bitch a girl is, the more fun I have puncturing her ego. Added to that the fact that I don't have a career, or a college education, and you've got the whole package. It's guaranteed to drive a girl wild. Their mothers too, to be honest.
I know, I know, it doesn't make sense. Even now, all these years later, I can hardly quote Eddie without laughing out loud. That couldn't be the secret, could it?
Well, all I know is that it worked.
I'll give you a little story, to let you see for yourself.
One day there was a wedding at the country club. It was a huge affair, between two of the richest families in our membership. The guy was an up and coming young lawyer, working at one of the blue chip firms in town, and the bride was a gorgeous blonde goddess, who had gone to all the best schools and was so beautiful she actually had done some modeling in New York.
The guest list included some of the biggest movers and shakers in Philadelphia, with judges, lawyers, Society people, CEOs, celebrities -- it was like a Who's Who of Philadelphia's upper crust.
It was a gorgeous day in June and when the wedding party arrived to get their pictures taken on the golf course, Eddie and I were outside taking a break. We saw the limousines pull up and the bridal party disembarked, and we saw the photographer herding them all to a little hill that overlooked a pond by the 10th hole. As he was getting everybody positioned, Eddie said, "She dropped something. Did you see that? She dropped her bouquet getting out of the car, and nobody noticed. Watch this."
He went over and picked up the bouquet of white flowers and took it over to the bride. He walked right up to the bride and gave them to her, and I noticed that he leaned his head over and whispered something to her before he left.
When he came back to me, I said, "What did you say to her?"
He smiled. "Oh, I just made a little joke. I said, 'This is your last chance for some fun before your honeymoon. Meet me in the kitchen in an hour.'"
I was dumbfounded. "You can't be serious. You're trying to get a little action with the bride? I'm surprised she didn't slap you. There's no way she's going to do what you asked."
Eddie just smiled. "Maybe. But I have a feeling she'll be back to see me in an hour. Want to make a bet?"
I knew how good Eddie was with women, but I still couldn't believe he'd manage to pull this one off. "Sure," I said. "If she comes back to the kitchen to see you I'll buy you enough good weed to get stoned for a week. And if she doesn't you have to do the same for me."
"That's an easy bet," Eddie said. "Done."
For the next hour we could hear the sound of the guests having a great time in the ballroom, with lots of music playing and the sound of people trying to impress each other with their breeding and sophistication. It was the cocktail hour, and the decibel level rose exponentially as the guests got more lubricated.
I was busy washing glasses and plates, but the whole time I kept my eye on the big clock on the wall, and when an hour had passed I turned to Eddie to tell him he'd lost the bet, but just at that moment I saw a flurry of activity in the entrance to the kitchen.
It was the bride, and she was looking around for Eddie.
Eddie saw her, and he went strolling over to her. I saw him lean over and whisper something to her, and the next thing I knew she and Eddie were headed down a hallway to the employee restroom. The most amazing thing was that the bride, in that big flouncy dress, was leading Eddie by the hand. He turned to me and waved me over, and I followed them down the hallway.
"I need your help," Eddie said, when I got there. "We're going to go in the restroom for a few minutes, and I need you to stand guard. Somebody may come looking for my friend here, but you make sure they don't find us. Okay?"
"Got it," I said, my mouth gaping open in awe. "I can't believe it, but I got it."
Eddie shut the door and for the next ten minutes there was the sound of moaning, gasping and even a scream or two coming from the restroom. I heard the bride's mother in the kitchen, asking if anyone had seen her daughter, but nobody told on us. The sounds that came from that restroom were amazing, and I can still hear them in my mind. That bride, who looked like such an ice princess, with her little turned up nose and her perfect blonde looks, was quite a noisy fuck. She kept urging Eddie on, and her voice went up several octaves in the process.
"Oh, oh, OH," she screamed. "Oh, God yes! Yes! Keep going! Oh my God, yes!"
I could almost see steam coming from under the door, it was so hot in that room. I got a stiff hard on just from listening to that princess scream. Eddie just grunted and groaned a bit, and then there was one very loud guttural shout, and they both came in an explosion of passion that seemed to shake the door almost off its hinges.
After that there was the sound of her straightening herself up, and someone ran the water for awhile. Then, just when the maid of honor could be heard down the hallway asking where the bride was, the door opened and the bride came out. Her face was flushed, she had a few stray hairs drooping down across her forehead, and there was a definite musky smell of cum wafting from her, but she took a deep breath to calm herself, then went bustling down the hallway and said, "Here I am! Sorry, I just had to visit the little girl's room."
Eddie came out with a smile on his face. "You know, there's nothing like sex with a girl on her wedding day," he said.
"You've done this before?" I said.
"Oh, sure," he said, walking down the hallway. "It's one of the reasons I like working here. A sort of a fringe benefit, if you know what I mean."
And that was the start of my friendship with Eddie.