Chapter 2

The following Saturday, Leigh and I attended an anniversary party for Jim and Nancy, longtime friends of my parents who were celebrating forty years of marriage. I had known them for most of my life, and with my parents off on an around-the-world cruise, they’d asked me to attend in their place.

Their children had planned a casual, family-friendly afternoon at the Wellington Country Club pool. With kids running around and extended families catching up as they sat in lounge chairs, Leigh opted for a practical one-piece Speedo she used to wear for swim meets. Her long, jet-black hair was styled in two tightly braided pig tails that fell off the back of her head and over her shoulders ... a look both youthful yet elegant. Despite the modesty of her outfit, Leigh couldn’t help but draw attention. She had a kind of quiet magnetism that turned heads, though she seemed unaware of it.

We stayed until around ten. After the decadent whirlwind of the past few weeks, the event felt like a welcome return to something grounded and wholesome. Leigh spent most of the evening playing with the children ... teaching them to dive, organizing relay races, and leading an intense game of “Marco Polo.” Watching her, I couldn’t help but smile. There was something effortlessly maternal in her that surfaced in moments like this. The kids adored her, the men admired her, and even the more reserved guests couldn’t help but take notice ... though not all the women were equally charmed.

Before we left, Leigh changed out of her swimsuit in the locker room, returning in a pair of neon yellow terry cloth shorts and a matching tube top. As we cruised down Southern Boulevard in my Mustang with the top down, the night breeze ruffling her braids, she sat beside me, relaxed and glowing with the simple joy of the day. There was a quiet contentment in her posture, her head tilted toward the stars, the last traces of chlorine still clinging to her skin ... her nipples, hardened by the cool night air, were clearly visible through the thin material of her top. It was a picture I wanted to remember.

As we passed over Jog Road and the flickering neon sign of the Boulevard Drive-In came into view, I felt a familiar flicker of mischief bubble up. Once a wholesome staple of post-war America, the theater had aged into something far less innocent. Now, it stood like a relic draped in cheap perfume and bad decisions, surrounded by rusted speaker poles and the ghosts of first kisses. The lighted marque proudly advertised a double feature “The Young Like It Hot” and “I Like to Watch”. I glanced over at Leigh and thought this might be an opportunity to present Leigh with another adventure.

I abruptly moved into the turn lane, waking Leigh from her light slumber. She stirred, sitting up and blinking against the lights of oncoming traffic.

“Where are we going?” she asked, her voice still soft with sleep.

“We’re going to see a dirty movie at the drive-in,” I said, nodding toward the glowing marquee just off the highway.

She gave a groggy smile. “That sounds like fun.”

I turned in when traffic cleared and pulled up to the ticket booth. A middle-aged woman with a cigarette clinging to her fingers leaned out of the small window. Her silver hair was frizzy and pinned back loosely, and her eyes scanned us with the boredom of someone who’d been doing this too long.

“That’ll be four bucks,” she rasped.

I dug into my wallet. Before I could hand over the bills, she gave Leigh a more deliberate look. With her face scrubbed of make up and hair styled in braided pigtails, Leigh could easily be mistaken for being younger than eighteen.

“How old are you, sweety?” she asked, narrowing her eyes.

Toying with the idea of jokingly saying ‘sixteen’, Leigh finally responded, “Twenty-one,” she said after a moment.

“I’ll need to see ID.” The woman extended her hand expectantly.

Leigh turned to reach her purse from the back seat, shifting between the bucket seats with an awkward stretch. The light from the ticket booth cast soft shadows over her. As she reached to get her ID, the crotch of her shorts pulled into her crack revealing her shapely ass cheeks. Having retrieved her purse, she extricated herself from between the front seats and spun back into her place beside me. Rummaging through her purse, Leigh pulled out her driver’s license and handed it to the impatient woman.

The woman examined the ID, flicking her eyes between the card and Leigh’s face. After a pause, she nodded, handed it back to me, and accepted the cash.

“You’re good. Enjoy the flick.”

The lot was more crowded than I expected ... over two dozen cars dotted the gravel lot, most with windows fogged or cracked open for the breeze. I found a space a little away from the clusters of others, enough for privacy but not isolation.

Before I could even kill the engine, Leigh leaned across the center console, her braid brushing my arm. There was a glint in her eye ... mischievous and familiar ... that told me this wasn’t just about watching the movie.

The first film had begun. Hypatia Lee, wearing only a garter belt and stockings, reclined provocatively on a couch, her legs spread as some guy vigorously fucked her. The sounds of their passionate encounter, the wet slapping of their bodies mingling with their moans of pleasure, emanated from the rusted drive-in speaker.

I put my arm around Leigh’s shoulder, pulling her close to me as we settled in to watch the erotic scene unfold. The leather seat was warm and comfortable, the perfect vantage point to enjoy the show. As the minutes ticked by, I became aware of Leigh’s growing arousal. Her breath hitched slightly, and her body tensed with anticipation. She turned her head towards me, her eyes glazed with desire, offering her lips for a kiss. The invitation was clear, and I was more than happy to oblige.

I pulled her close, my arm wrapping around her waist as I pressed my lips to hers. Our kiss was deep and passionate, my tongue explored every inch of her mouth as she responded eagerly. Her hands roamed my body, her touch hungry and insistent. As we kissed, I slowly began to pull her tube top down, inch by inch, exposing the swell of her large, perfect breasts and her smooth, toned stomach.

With her tube top finally down to her waist, her breasts were fully exposed, her hard nipples begging for attention. I continued to kiss her, my hands now free to explore her body. I cupped her breasts, their weight filling my hands as I began to massage them, my thumbs and forefingers roughly pinching her nipples. Leigh moaned into my mouth, her body arching into my touch, encouraging me to continue.

I could feel her heart racing, her breath coming in short, sharp gasps as I stimulated her. Her moans of pleasure grew louder, more insistent, spurring me on as I teased and tortured her sensitive nipples. The car was filled with the sounds of our passion, our heavy breathing and moans drowning out the movie playing in the background.