Thomas is awoken by a gentle shake on his shoulder and a concerned voice. “Thomas? Thomas are you OK? Why are you in your sister’s bed?”

Thomas rolled onto his side and forced his eyes open. His mom, Sandy, is sitting on the edge of the bed. She has a worried look.

“Ah, mom, I, uh ... I need to go to the bathroom!”

Thomas bolted off the bed and scurried to the bathroom. He stood over the toilet for what seemed like hours as his bladder emptied the copious amounts of vodka he consumed with his sister and her best friend. As he stared into the bowl memories of the afternoon start to return. He flushed and returned to his sister’s room where his mom was waiting. He took a seat at the head of the bed.

He coughed, then slowly told his mom what was going on in very broad strokes. “I had a very bad afternoon. You know that Denise and I were dating. I was, well, kind of dating someone else at the same time. Then they both found out about each other.”

“Thomas! What did you do?”

“I fucked up, mom. Denise came over this morning, and then I got a call from Lisa. Both of them blew up at me and Denise stormed out of the house. Tammy and Billie heard her leave and invited me to listen to Billie’s new album.”

Sandy put together the rest of the story. “And it smells like they also lit up a joint. Or two. And knowing Billie, they probably had a bottle of vodka?”

Thomas couldn’t hide the surprised look on his face. “Yeah, how did you know?”

“How could I not know about the pot? It smells like a Grateful Dead concert. And I’ve found more than one empty bottle in this room after Billie has spent the night.”

Sandy chuckled and then asked, “How could you not know that your sister and Billie were regularly getting stoned and drunk? I thought you two were getting close?”

Thomas dropped his head heavily against the wall. He was indeed getting closer with Tammy, but like his first time through the 1980s, he was oblivious to many of his sister’s antics.

“I don’t know,” he answered warily. “I guess my only defense is blissful ignorance?”

“You’re not so ignorant anymore. Go take a shower. Eddie is taking me out for dinner. You want me to bring you something home?”

Thomas struggled to his feet, then said, “No, thanks. I really don’t feel like eating anything right now. I’m going to go for a run, then I’ll shower and find something light to eat.”

Sandy studied her son for a moment, then said, “OK, but be careful. You look like you overdid it a bit this afternoon.”

Thomas grunted as he stood and felt the pangs of a headache reverberate down his skull.

“Yeah, I’m not the party animal that my sister seems to be. I’ll be fine. Have a good time at dinner.”

Thomas went upstairs to his bedroom and changed into running clothes. He heard the shower running when he came back down and figured his mom’s dinner may turn into a later night than she suggested.

The sun was still bright, but had started to fall below the horizon, which meant the temperatures were not overly hot. Thomas jogged to the front of the house and kept a slow pace. He started to cross the street to follow his regular path when he suddenly veered back onto the sidewalk.

He muttered to himself, “My life is ass-backward right now, so why not run the route in reverse?”

He kept his pace slow for only another block, then ramped up his speed to the maximum. He pounded the pavement hard as he thought about what happened over the last forty-eight hours.

He had a perfect evening with Denise after their graduation ceremony. They fucked like bunnies and she told him she loved him. He told her he loved her, too.

The next day was an unexpected invitation to Ms. Tutterbom’s apartment. They were going to get lunch and talk about an essay he wrote for her class a few months before but ended up in her bedroom all afternoon. She too professed her love for Thomas. He told her he loved her in reply.

The shit hit the fan earlier this morning. Denise came over to surprise him, then Lisa called. The two women heard each other, unloaded on him, and both told him they were going away for a short time and would talk when they got back in town.

Thomas could feel his body rebel at the punishment he was delivering, but he would not relent. He kept a brisk pace and continued to charge ahead.

After Denise stormed out of the house he was met by his sister Tammy and her best friend Billie. They invited him to join them in Tammy’s room to listen to an album. He also found out they were smoking pot and drinking, both of which were shared liberally with him as a tonic.

The rest of the day was a bit of blur as the drugs and booze fogged his memory. He recalled telling them about Ms. Tutterbom. Neither seemed overly surprised at his revelation, though they both thought he was an ass to ruin a relationship with Denise by screwing his teacher.

Thomas shook his head as he rounded a corner and headed into the final few blocks.

He struggled to remember the rest of the time with his sister and her friend. He vaguely remembered Billie telling him he needed to get back on the horse as soon as possible. And if his mind was not playing tricks on him, Billie had offered to be that horse. He was pretty sure he declined her invitation. He wasn’t sure if it was chivalrous or if he was afraid the booze would prevent him from performing.

“Fuck,” Thomas yelled as the weight of the day crashed into his consciousness afresh.

The sudden verbal outburst was accompanied by a physical component. His body convulsed and Thomas bent violently at the waist, spewing vodka-laced vomit in a wide arc over a neighbor’s yard. He stood hunched over as his abdomen continued to lurch in an effort to expunge the day’s excesses.

“Thomas?” a voice called. Mrs. Willow walked down the sidewalk to where Thomas stood.

“Oh, my,” she gasped when she took in the scene and realized what had happened. She took his arm and guided him toward her house.

“I’ll be fine. Just need to get home and get a bottle of water.”

Thomas’s protestations were cut short by Mrs. Willow when she said sternly, “Thomas, do you not know I am a nurse? You are not going to be fine by just sipping water. You are severely dehydrated. Your blood pressure is dropping and you have a very fast heart rate. Now get inside and let me help you.”

Thomas let himself be led into the house. Mrs. Willow walked him directly into the main bathroom and turned on the shower.

“Strip,” she commanded. She saw his reluctance and added, “I’ve seen it all, and right now you have vomit across your shirt and running down your leg. Now get in the shower and wash.”

Thomas was no longer thinking straight and followed her directive. He pulled his clothes off and dropped them on a pile next to the shower. He stepped under the water and saw Mrs. Willow collect his clothes.

“I’m going to put these in the laundry. Just stay still under the water and I’ll be right back.”

In a few moments Mrs. Willow returned with a glass of room temperature water and a banana. “Here, take a small sip.” She passed him the glass. She peeled the end of the banana and broke off a piece. “Here,” she said as she took the glass and handed him the banana.

Fifteen minutes after he entered the shower Thomas was feeling much better. His breathing and heart rate were normal, and he was holding down the banana and glass of water. Mrs. Willow had not left the bathroom. She said it was to keep an eye on his symptoms.

As Thomas recovered he realized that Mrs. Willow was keeping a particularly vigilant watch below his waist. His observation sent a wave of blood to his dick and it suddenly twitched. Mrs. Willow laughed when she saw his growing member. “I guess you are feeling better.”

She went to the closet and collected a fresh towel. Thomas turned off the water and used the towel, and then traded it for a robe that Mrs. Willow offered.

“Thanks,” he said as he stepped into a robe that was three sizes too small, eliciting another laugh from Mrs. Willow.

“Mr. Willow was much shorter than you, but it should work for now. Follow me.”

Thomas saw his host leave the bathroom and turn to her left. She led him to the kitchen and instructed him to sit on a bar stool in front of the counter. She pulled two containers from the fridge and put them in the microwave. As they warmed she diced a vegetable medley and put it on the stove.

“Would you prefer a cola or iced tea?” she asked when she returned to the fridge.

“Cola, please.”

Mrs. Willow plated half of each reheated entree on two plates, then added vegetables and carried the two dishes to the table. She nodded to two drinks that sat next to the fridge. Thomas understood the unspoken request and retrieved them before taking a seat next to Mrs. Willow.

Mrs. Willow finally addressed the elephant in the room. “So how is it that I found a young man that runs regularly throwing up in my yard?”

Thomas took a bite of food and said, “This is really good. Where is it from?”

“Don’t sidestep the question,” she chided. “But it is veal parmigiana from Luigi’s.”

Thomas took another bite, then put down his fork and wiped his mouth with a napkin. He looked at Mrs. Willow and made a decision.

“It’s a long story, and I’m afraid I’m the asshole who fucked up, royally.”

Mrs. Willow did not flinch at his language. Instead, she said, “Well, let’s hear it. I like a good fuck-up story. I’ve got plenty of time, and there’s dessert in the freezer.”

Thomas spent the next twenty minutes telling Mrs. Willow every detail of the past month, from his first encounter with Ms. Tutterbom, to taking Denise’s virginity, to the morning’s meltdown with both Lisa and Denise.

Thomas noticed that as he talked about sex with Denise and Lisa that Mrs. Willow’s nipples were clearly visible through her work scrubs. Once he noticed he didn’t hesitate to add more details about his sexual encounters.

When he finished she said, “Yeah, you’re right. You royally fucked up. But you’re what, eighteen, nineteen? You think with your little head and not the one on your shoulders.”

Thomas felt the sting of the words. His body was indeed eighteen, but his head was older than fifty. He should have handled the past few weeks differently.

With dinner over, Mrs. Willow collected the dishes and put them in the sink. Thomas followed with their glasses. He could see Mrs. Willow’s nipples again when her top stretched across her breasts as she put the plates in the dishwasher. His dick hardened and popped out from behind the small robe.

“There’s the little head I was talking about,” said Mrs. Willow as she took the glasses and added them to the dishwasher.

“Let me get a better look.”

Mrs. Willow pulled on the tie holding the robe together and pulled it open. She gazed down at Thomas’s taut teenage body with lust brimming in her eyes. She stepped to him and grasped his dick firmly while pulling his head down into a kiss.

“It’s been over four years since I’ve been with a man. Take me, please,” she pleaded as she continued her strokes.

Thomas led her to the bedroom. He dropped the robe at the door and placed Mrs. Willow at the edge of the bed. He slowly pulled her scrubs over her head, exposing a utilitarian white bra. Her nipples strained against the cups giving away Mrs. Willow’s clear excitement.

Her shoes and bottoms were next, leaving Mrs. Willow in only her underwear. Thomas kissed her gently. He reached behind her and flicked open her bra, then sat her on the bed and reached for her panties. She lifted her butt slightly and let him pull them off. She was completely naked and leaning back on her elbows on the side of the bed.

When she started to move Thomas shook his head. “No, wait,” he said as he sunk to his knees and pulled her closer to his face. He put her legs over his shoulders and spread them wide, pulling her vagina open and exposed to his gaze. He took a second to enjoy the view, then stuck his tongue out and began to lick and probe her slit with an experience that belied his eighteen-year-old body.

“Ahh,” Mrs. Willow wailed as her orgasm crashed over her body.

Thomas let her relax for only a moment before he returned his attention to her pussy. This time he used his fingers. First one, then two were inserted. He dropped one of his digits soaked in her juices down her crack and teased her asshole. With the lightest touch on her backside entry, she exploded in a second powerful orgasm.

Knowing that she had been without for so long, Thomas quickly moved off his knees and fell between her legs. He guided his dick to her opening and pushed just as her orgasm subsided. He felt her clamp down on the sudden intrusion and held himself deeply within her without moving.

“Oh, yes, yes, yes,” screamed Mrs. Willow. “Fuck me, fuck me hard!”

Thomas obeyed. He pulled his dick completely out, then back in, long slow powerful strokes to start. Mrs. Willow hooked her ankles against his ass which then prevented him from fully pulling out. He took the cue and began to pound in and out at a furious pace. It took less than a minute. Thomas released his load as her pussy twitched and convulsed in her third orgasm.

He collapsed on top of Mrs. Willow and kissed her before he rolled onto his side.

“Mrs. Willow,” Thomas started to say. She put her finger over his lips. “Please, we are past that. My name is Elaine, but I go by Ellie.”

“Thank you,” she whispered as she pulled her finger away from his lips and rose from the bed. She went to the bathroom and returned a moment later. She paused standing by the edge of the bed. Thomas was looking at her intently.

Ellie saw him and said, “Not quite the body of a twenty-three-year old student teacher, or a nubile eighteen-year-old vixen, huh?” She spun in a circle to prove her point.

Thomas replied, “No, you don’t have the body of a woman thirty years your junior, but you are no less beautiful.”

Thomas’s dick sparked to life. Ellie saw it and slid back onto the bed. She was on her side. Her breasts were not large, but they sagged gracefully to the side. Thomas took one and hefted it in his hand as he tweaked her nipple with is thumb.

“I love your tits,” he said as he leaned over and licked the nipple.

He rolled on top of her and spread her legs. This time he took his time and alternated quick thrusts with long slow strokes with times of no movement. He stared at her boobs as they bounced and jiggled with his movements.

“You want to cum on them?” asked Ellie. “Brant, Mr. Willow, thought that was too carnal and would never do it, even though I practically begged him.”

Thomas grinned and picked up his pace. It wasn’t long before he started to grunt.

“Come on, baby. Let me see you spew your load on my tits.”

Thomas pulled out and moved onto Ellie’s waist, furiously pumping his member with his hand. He soon produced a large stream of cum. The first shot hit Ellie on the neck and trailed across her chest. The second spurt was a direct hit on her right nipple. He continued to pump and left smaller deposits down her chest to her hips.

“Ahhh,” he moaned as he slowed his strokes.

Ellie watched as Thomas opened his eyes and focused on her goo-soaked tits. She grinned up at him and began to massage his semen across her skin, then lifted her fingers and licked them clean.

Thomas and Ellie extricated themselves from one another and paraded into the bathroom. Ellie took a washcloth off a rack and ran it under hot water. She wiped her chest clean and then applied the cloth to Thomas.

Back in the bedroom she said, “You told me how bad your relationships collapsed. I’m afraid fucking an old lady won’t help get either one back, but damn, it was what I needed.”

Thomas laughed and shrugged at the irony of the assumed age difference.

“I think I needed this more than I may have admitted. My sister’s friend offered this afternoon, but I was too baked to take her seriously.”

Ellie donned a robe and slipped out of the room. When she returned she was holding Thomas’s running clothes.

While he dressed she said, “I harbor no illusions that we will be in a relationship like you described, but for the summer, if you are ever feeling lonely, come over. Now that my fuse has been re-lit I don’t think a vibrator will be as effective anymore.”

Thomas stood. “Thank you, Ellie. I don’t know that a shower and banana were life-saving, but if I went home after puking I would have felt bad all night. This,” he motioned to the bed, “may have been more life-saving than I want to admit. I was pretty messed up in the head and was trying to outrun my demons.”

“I think we helped each other,” she said gently in reply.

Mrs. Willow turned and escorted Thomas to the door. Without preamble she opened it and said, “Good night, Thomas. Remember, the invite is open.”

Thomas was a bit surprised at the rather cold departure but smiled as he passed Ellie. “Thank you again. I will probably take you up on your offer.”

Thomas walked home. His mind was spinning, but not about the women in his life. He was thinking more metaphysically. Would he ever return to his present day? A few months ago, he would have sworn he would choose to stay in the 80s. Now? Now he wasn’t sure which life he would prefer. Sleeping with Mrs. Willow reminded him how much he missed women that were closer to his mental cohort.

No one was home when Thomas entered the house. He left all the lights turned off and went upstairs. He stripped and fell into his bed and quickly fell into a deep sleep.

The next morning, he found a note on the kitchen counter right where he expected. It was similar to most notes left by his mom every morning. Off to work, and then will be with Eddie until late. Tammy stayed at Billie’s last night.

Thomas headed to the fridge, but suddenly had an idea. He turned and ran upstairs. He was dressed and out of the house in thirty minutes. He left a note for his mom telling her he would be out and may not be home that evening.

The Corvette purred along the highway at an even eighty miles per hour. Thomas never really ran the car past the speed limit, but today he had a devil-may-care attitude. He covered the two hundred miles to the state line in under three hours. He had never been, but he knew there was a casino just across the state border and that was his destination.

Sure enough, twenty miles before the border he started seeing advertisements for the casino: “The Big Top – Where Fortunes are Made!” Thomas barked a laugh out loud. “Yeah, fortunes for the casino owners.”

He arrived at the casino and took a moment to rearrange his cash in various pockets. He had taken about five thousand dollars from his hidden stash at home. He put wads of cash in various places in case someone tried a pick-pocket or robbery. He may lose one wad of cash, but not all of it.

It was just after lunchtime. Thomas was lucky that this particular casino did not care about the age of their customers. As long as cash was brought and they were well-behaved there were no questions asked.

His first goal was to orient himself with the casino. He found the penny slots, a section of five-dollar tables, the high roller no-limit section hidden behind a curtain, a sports bookie, and finally the buffet. He ate then returned to the floor, picking a table he spotted earlier.

“Good afternoon,” said a pleasant dealer with a name tag that identified him as Greg.

Thomas sat on a stool and said, “Hi, Greg. This a single-deck blackjack table?”

“Yep, that’s me,” he replied as he continued to shuffle a deck of cards.

Thomas placed two one-hundred dollar bills on the table. Greg converted them to chips and dealt the first hand. In Thomas’s present-day life, he was an accountant and very good with numbers. He was particularly good at counting cards. Casinos realized that accurate card counting could sway the odds heavily in favor of the player. They mitigated these odds by introducing six-card decks and continuous shuffling systems. This older casino in the 1980s had not yet implemented any of these precautions and was playing a single deck from top to bottom.

Thomas played the minimum bet the whole way through the first deck. When Greg shuffled and dealt the first hand from the second deck Thomas was fully engaged and kept an accurate count of what cards had been seen. About halfway through the deck the odds favored him at the threshold he had set in his mind.

“You know what Greg? I’m feeling lucky,” he said as he slid a twenty-five dollar bet onto the table.

Greg dealt Thomas a blackjack. Thomas played aggressively for the remainder of the deck and ended up three hundred dollars ahead.

He followed a similar pattern through the second deck and was up almost a thousand when Greg tapped out. Thomas commiserated losing his dealer buddy and the good luck he brought. In reality he was glad Greg was leaving and he would be able to reuse the same tactic about feeling lucky without raising suspicions.

At 4:00 PM Thomas was up over four thousand dollars. He collected his chips and went to the sports bar. He found a young woman working the counter.

“Hello,” she said, “can I help you?”

Thomas scanned the evening’s games. His eyes went wide for a brief second when he saw one particular game and he remembered the date. He knew a very specific piece of information and may be able to parlay that into a huge windfall.

“I hope so,” he said cheerily. “I see I can bet win or lose on each game against the spread.”

“Yes, sir,” the lady replied before Thomas continued.

“But,” he said undeterred, “what if I wanted to bet on something more specific?”

“I’m afraid I cannot give odds on bets not listed,” the lady said. “But I can get my manager if you are interested.”

“Yes, please, I’m feeling lucky, and a bit crazy, so let’s see what he can offer.”

A burly bald man came from behind a curtain and approached Thomas. He had an unlit cigar in his mouth and clasped it tightly as he spoke. “What do you want to bet on?”

Thomas used a similar line as before. “I’m feeling lucky, and a bit crazy, so I wanted to know about placing a bet on a specific outcome.”

The man just glared at Thomas.

“Like a specific score, or maybe that a team will be shutout?”

The man nodded. His head bobbed up and down, but somehow his cigar remained stationary in space. Thomas was transfixed at the effect.