Chapter 8

I woke a couple hours later. The only sound in the tent was Darlene's soft breathing as she cuddled close, but still I felt a presence.

"You look beautiful tonight, Zo," I softly greeted her, her image waltzing through my mind. I wondered what she thought of all this. The road trip. A different girl every night. "I miss you."

I've never been certain of the afterlife, but I hoped their was a heaven for Zoe's sake. "G'night." I lay my head back on the pillow and closed my eyes.

I woke when Darlene kneed me in the stomach.

"Sorry," she said as she continued to wiggle her way out of the sleeping bag.

"Wouldn't it be easier to unzip?"

"Zipper's behind you." I realized she was right.

"I'll come with you," I said.

"I don't need an escort to the bathroom," she said as she stepped into her shorts and pulled them up.

I slid out of the sleeping bag and found my own shorts. "You're not the only one with a bladder you know."

Darlene giggled and nodded. We walked to the restroom building and went to our separate sides. I could have gone with her, or guided her into the men's room, but basically I had no desire to see her pee. I used to read a lot of stories on SOL and ASSTR, but now I just read a few from my favorite authors. When I was reading a lot, I was always coming across stories where guys got turned on watching their sisters, cousins, neighbors, girlfriends—please insert one—in the bathroom. I just didn't get it. And when they went on to serious water sports, well, I found another story.

I emptied my bladder, washed up, and went outside to wait for Darlene.

"Nobody else is up yet. Let's take a walk," she suggested.

I thought for a second about getting her back to my tent so I could play with those soft-but-firm mounds that decorated her chest some more, but I nodded. I took her hand, and we picked a trail we hadn't been on yet.

"Were you talking to somebody last night?" She asked.

"Just Zoe," I said as I ducked a low hanging branch.

Darlene seemed startled. "Does she visit you often?"

"She's always with me."

"She's haunting you?"

"She's watching over me."

"Oh." Darlene seemed at a loss for words. I squeezed her hand, and we walked on.

"Did you ever have an experience that was so good that you wished it had been your first experience, 'cause your first time wasn't as good; in fact, it was pretty bad?"

I was glad they don't teach diagraming sentences anymore because I wouldn't try to diagram that one. "Not really," I said after I sorted it out. "Most of my experiences have been pretty good. And even the bad ones, well, you learn from them, either how to avoid them or how to handle them. Why?"

"Well, I just wish that had been the first time I made love."

"You mean it wasn't?" I said quickly.

"Tony the diplomat." I decided it wasn't the right time to mention that diplomats were only one step above politicians and two steps above lawyers on the slime scale. "Brad popped my cherry when I was twelve. Six days after my birthday, as a matter of fact. He was seventeen."

I didn't know what to say or what she expected, so I just gave her hand another squeeze.

"It wasn't bad. It just, wasn't... good. The whole thing was over in less than a minute. I'd hear my girlfriends talking about how good fucking was, but I thought it was better with my fingers, or my damn hairbrush."

I wonder if the inventor of the hairbrush realized just how useful it would be?

"But you kept doing... ?" I started.

"Yeah, I kept doing Brad. I mean, I was a sixth grader, he was a junior. I couldn't believe he was interested in me. After Brad was his buddy Alan. Then came his little brother Kyle. And I still didn't get off."

Darlene stopped, then stepped in front of me. "Last night was the first time I've had an orgasm that wasn't self-inflicted."

"That's sad." I put my hands on the sides of her head and pulled her into a kiss.

"Isn't it?" she agreed. "I finally find a guy who wants me to get as much out of it as he does, and the damn idiot is already in love. Well, at least Tami shares."

"You know, there are guys out there who can do it right. Don't settle. Some of the rest can be retrained."

"My new mission in life."

"Everybody needs a hobby."

Tami had surprised us, 'cause we packed up and headed south instead of staying for a second day. We stayed on Highway 101, stopped at a Pizza Hut in Eureka for lunch, and got to the Van Damme State Park outside Mendocino just before four.

Just after I'd finished getting the tents up, Tami hauled out a huge boom box. I knew it wasn't hers and wondered where she'd gotten it and why she hadn't taken it out until now. The campsite had electricity, so she plugged it in and set up a microphone too.

"I suppose we should let Tony rest, so Robbie you're up."

"Up to what?"

Tami smiled. "You get to entertain us." She put in three CD's, pushed the play button, and an instrumental version of Bridge Over Troubled Water started.

Tami stopped the music. "You missed your cue."

"You really want me to sing?"

Tami smiled again. "That's the plan."

Robbie shrugged and Tami started the music again. This time, Robbie came in right on cue.

"Very nice," Tami said from her chair when Robbie finished. We all applauded. So did the three spectators who had wandered over. "Four minutes and fifty-five seconds." She had a notebook and wrote that down for whatever reason. "Tony, you're up. Daydream Believer."

"With or without?" I asked, moving Darlene off my lap and standing up. Robbie handed me the microphone.

"With or without what?" Tami asked.

"British accent." I'd learned the song listening to Davy Jones and could do a passable English accent because of it.

Tami laughed. "With."

She started the CD, and I sang Daydream Believer, complete with British accent. My applause was bigger than Robbie's if only because our audience had grown by half-a-dozen people.

"Three minutes and one second," Tami announced and made a notation in her notebook.

I handed the mike back to Robbie.