Southern Comfort

by ANDREA SMITH

  Gina pulled her mom’s Mercury into a parking spot and, as luck would have it, the speaker was on my side. Crap! I hated the feeling of being blocked in.

  I was majorly claustrophobic so I guess that was why. I pulled the speaker off the rack on the post outside of the window, and hung it carefully on the glass rolled halfway down on my door. The Top 40 chart was blaring from the speaker, and I adjusted the sound down a bit.

  The Showboat Drive-In was the last in the county. At one time, there had been two other drive-in movie theatres in the area, but those had closed up years back. The Showboat was notorious for playing X-rated movies and, like any teenagers, we were curious.

  Except for Gina. Gina was actually the only one in our group who had experienced sex. Though she was always more than happy to share every detail with us, the movies gave us much more explicit detail than even Gina could.

  This film was classic John Holmes. Not much of a plot, but it was obvious where Mr. Holmes’ talent resided. All sixteen freaking inches of it!

  In this flick, Holmes was playing the owner of a plastics company that was introducing a new dildo line. He was encouraged to demonstrate the dildo in a comparison test with his own member. Geez!

  Rene was aghast in the back seat.

  “Oh my God,” she screeched. “That cannot be real!”

  Robin shushed her as Holmes continued his demo on his buxom secretary from behind. The secretary was making the appropriate moans and groans as he finally succeeded in burying his full length into her.

  “Ouch!” Gina screamed. “Ain’t no freakin’ way, baby!”

  The dudes in the car next to us were laughing. The driver looked over at us and stared a hole through me. “Hey there sweet thing,” he crooned. “Why don’t you come on over here and I can show you a rod bigger than that and all the magic things it can do for you?”

  “Jack off, jerk!” I responded and then turned to Gina. “Why in the hell did you park next to these idiots, Gina?”

  “Oh, hell, Sunny. Be cool. They’re just horny like the rest of us. Don’t be so uptight all the time. God, who would’ve guessed your stepdaddy has already infiltrated your bad self,” she finished with a laugh.

  “First of all,” I answered, trying not to be irritated, “I really don’t know what horny feels like. And secondly, my stepfather is a jerk and I’ll thank you not to mention him if you want to remain friends, that is. And lastly, I’m not uptight just because I haven’t chosen to screw someone yet, okay?”

  Gina was my best friend and I loved her “like a sis,” but she had already shared with me that she lost her cherry when she was fourteen to a guy named Dennis. He promised her it wouldn’t hurt and it had. He promised her that it would clear up her complexion. Well, her complexion cleared up once her mom had taken her to a dermatologist who prescribed some tetracycline. So, I guess Gina pretty much had been played the fool. But all in all, she seemed to have taken it in stride.

  Dennis had not been the last. She had recently broken up with a guy named Larry that was a few years older than her and worked at the lumberyard. Gina said that Larry just didn’t “get her,” and she was ready to explore other options.

  I thanked God that Gina’s mom had the foresight to put her on birth control pills when she was fifteen, though Gina seemed very touchy about the whole subject.

  Regrettably, I made the mistake of mentioning this to my mother one day and sat through one of her horrible, fire and brimstone, if not totally hypocritical lectures on acceptable behavior. “Obviously, Sunny, Gina is not a product of proper breeding,” she had said, fanning herself with a Penny Dreadful she’d been reading. “I’m half tempted to forbid you from associating with her. You are, after all, judged by the company you keep. Do you want folks around here thinking you’re…well, some kind of white trash?”

  “No, but Gina is not trash, Mama. She’s my best friend and if I can’t talk to you about things without you starting to pass judgment, then I just won’t share stuff with you at all. Is that how you want it?” Sometimes turning the tables on her worked to my advantage. I was hoping that this was one of those times.

  She’d grown flustered and, thankfully, the phone rang right then killing the conversation. Still, I could tell that she wasn’t happy having Gina around after that. It was clearly evident the next time Gina had come to the house.

  “What’s your mom’s freakin’ problem today?” Gina had asked. My mother had barely returned Gina’s greeting when she stopped by to pick me up for a trip to the mall.

  “Just ignore it,” I had responded casually. “She’s just mad at me and when that happens, she takes it out on everyone associated with me. C’mon, let’s split.”

  “Aw, shit!” Gina said, breaking into my momentary reflection. “I freakin’ forgot to put the cooler with the Little Kings in the backseat. It’s still in the trunk. Rene, I’ll pop the trunk, jump out and grab the cooler, huh?”

  Rene scrambled out of the back seat as Gina popped the massive trunk open, blocking the view for the car parked directly behind us. Rene was apparently having some difficulty in locating the cooler, which was usually well hidden under several blankets Gina kept back there for her impromptu picnics with her dates.

  “Hey, you dumb bitch, close the fucking trunk so we can see the flick!”

  “Shut your damn face!” Gina screamed right back at the car behind us filled with guys, obviously not intimidated whatsoever. She poked her head out of the car window while giving them the one finger salute in a rotational manner.

  I heard more cursing and a car door slammed behind us. Rene hurriedly shut the lid of trunk, and barreled into the backseat with the cooler in tow.

  She was laughing loudly as she pulled the car door shut and pushed down the lock.

  Oh, geez, what now?

  I slumped down low in the front seat, while Gina flung her door wide open, and jumped out facing the tall, blonde-haired dude that sported a tattooed arm and was carrying a can of Bud with him.

  As soon as he eyed Gina, he visibly cooled off. Standing with her arms akimbo in cut-off shorts, white halter top, which did little to conceal her double D’s, and brown eyes blazing she presented a rather lusty dilemma for the blonde hot head.

  “Hey, look,” he mumbled sheepishly now, “sorry for getting loud with your friend there. Lemme make it up to you. Want a beer?”

  Damn.

  I peeked out through Gina’s window and it almost looked like he was blushing. Gina could affect guys that way. Me—I could never pull that off. Not in a million years.

  “Nah, we’re good here. Rene was just getting our refreshments outta the trunk. Sorry we blocked your view like that.”

  “No, no, I’m sorry for going all radical like that. Hey, my name is Craig,” he offered, wiping his right hand on his jeans before offering it to Gina. “Craig Connors at your beck and call, Ms…?”

  Gina shrugged and with a dazzling smile offered her manicured hand to him almost daintily. It always amazed me the way that she could quickly transform herself from a hardened Jersey chick into a soft picture of feminine refinement.

  “Gina,” she said softly. “My name is Gina Margolis.”

  “Well, Gina Margolis,” Craig continued, “are you sure there isn’t something I can offer you—popcorn, a corn dog, a joint, anything? I was an ass.”

  “Why yes, yes you were, Craig,” she scolded half-heartedly, “and how un-Southern that was, but really, it’s no big deal. Tell you what, check back at intermission if you want. I may have some needs then,” she chuckled.

  She turned and got back into the car as Craig made no attempt to hide the fact he was checking her out from behind. He let out a soft wolf-whistle before he turned and went back to his car.

  “Oh my God!” she giggled as she watched it all in her rearview mirror. “Is he not the most beautiful thing you’ve seen all day? God, I love guys with tats!”

  “Gina, you love guys with tats, moles, scars, zits, limps. What is your poin
t?” Robin asked, twisting the top off of her chilled bottle of Little King Cream Ale. “I mean, the fact is you LOVE guys. Period.”

  “Stop being nasty, Robin,” Gina chided, “or I won’t ask Craig if he has a friend for you at intermission.”

  They both laughed while Rene tossed each of us a bottle of ale. I twisted the cap off of mine and took a long draw. I had to admit, I really don’t care for the taste of cream ale, but it was hot and I was thirsty. So it would have to do for now.

  I knew that I would nurse it through the rest of the movie. What the hell? There were only a total of eight so no one would be getting drunk anyway. The best we could hope for was that good ‘ole Craig came through with a doobie at intermission.

  We got back to watching Johnny Wadd Holmes and his weapon of doom as Gina called it, making appropriate comments throughout. At one point, Robin put us into a fit of giggles when she said watching him screw his nurse was giving her a tingling feeling between her legs.

  Gina snorted out ale through her nose on that one. “Are you for real, Robin? I mean I get that three outta the four of us are virgins, but shit, come on. There are three bases in between, ya know?”

  Here we go. Time for an update.

  “Time for an update!” Gina yelled. “You first, Sunny. Tell us, Ms. Gardner, how you’ve spent your summer vacation.”

  I rolled my eyes, taking another swig of my drink. “You know damn well nothing’s changed this summer, Gina. Still me. No boyfriend. No contenders on the horizon. Everything still intact here.”

  “Yeah, figured that,” she said with a sigh of disappointment. “Twins?”

  “Nothing new with me either, guys are jerks as far as I’m concerned. Rene got finger banged by Randy though.”

  “Robin! Shut up! That was for me to tell!”

  “Oh what’s the big deal?” Robin replied. “You said it wasn’t all that, anyway.”

  Gina turned abruptly to face Rene. “What’s the skinny with that? You didn’t enjoy it?”

  Now Rene was in the hot seat. I turned to see how she was gonna react.

  She squirmed uncomfortably and then smacked her twin on the shoulder. “See?”

  “Hey, I’m not here to judge, just curious,” Gina said. “So did Randy not know the basics of finger fucking or what?”

  “Well, it started out okay. I mean, you know, we were making out and all, and then he was feeling me up, and then down my shorts and all, but no – it didn’t feel good. It was something about the angle I guess. I mean, hell, his knuckles were pressed up against my vagina and it hurt.”

  “Oh, for Pete’s sake,” Gina replied, shaking her head. “No wonder. That isn’t the correct position for a successful finger bang. You were sitting up, right?”

  Rene nodded.

  “That is totally wrong. You need to be lying down, naked from the waist down, and your legs relaxed. He needs to take his time, get you kind of lathered up, and then gently ply the folds of your dirty girl and work it from there.”

  “Dirty girl?” I gasped, spitting out the sip of ale I had just taken.

  Gina turned back to face me. “Okay, what would you prefer I call it? Vagina? Don’t think so.”

  “Pussy,” I replied without thinking.

  “Ewww,” Robin said from the back seat. “I hate that word!”

  “It’s better than ‘dirty girl,’” I argued. “That just sounds nasty.”

  “The point is,” Gina clarified loudly, “that he didn’t know what the hell he was doing. Is he still a virgin?”

  “Well…yeah,” Rene said. “We both are.”

  “Then take my advice and try the position I just explained. And here’s a hot tip: once he’s got two fingers up inside, have him curl them up like he’s beckoning you, and wait until you feel the fireworks hit!”

  I smiled, shaking my head. Gina. Something else. “Which one are you?” I asked her.

  “Huh?”

  “I’m asking which one you are—Masters or Johnson?”

  “Fuck you, Sunny.”

  Chapter 2

  Avery Dawson switched on the porch light and peered out into the night. He turned his head to the side so that his eyes could catch a glimpse of the street, all the way to the corner. But there was nothing but darkness.

  Mosquitoes and gnats were swirling around the porch light. He made a mental note to buy one of those bug zappers the next time he went to the hardware store.

  The August night was quiet, thick with the Alabama humidity. The window air conditioner hummed noisily inside the living room, working hard to cool off the downstairs of their bungalow. There was another window unit upstairs in their bedroom. Sunny had one in her bedroom that was just across the hall from their room. She wasn’t allowed to turn her A/C unit on until she was in the room for the night though and tonight she was late.

  Again.

  “Your sixteen-year-old has missed her curfew again, Donna. The girl has no respect for rules or boundaries it seems.”

  “Oh Avery,” Donna replied, uncurling her tanned legs from beneath her as she sat upright on the sofa where she’d been glued to the television. “It’s only eleven thirty-five. What’s five or ten minutes?”

  Avery turned to face her, his face a mask of solemnity. He was a man of God; he took rules and regulations seriously. He had done that all of his life. Having grown up in Tupelo, Mississippi, under the strict tutelage of his father, also a minister in the Southern Baptist faith, he had learned those lessons. He had been taught the importance of adhering to the rules, and conversely the consequences of defiance.

  Sometimes those consequences culminated in having a razor strap flayed against his bare back. But at the end, he had learned the lessons he was supposed to learn; and he was raised with discipline. As a result, he respected the authority of those in power; God, of course, being the highest one. It was because of this he’d made a vow to serve God and see to it that others learned to follow the straight and narrow path that would ultimately lead them to their own personal salvation.

  “The point, Donna, is that the girl needs to learn to follow the rules she’s been given. Not to bend them at her whim. Five or ten minutes now, fifteen or twenty minutes next time. She has to learn self-discipline. You aren’t consistent with discipline. She knows what she can get away with when it comes to you.” His voice carried disapproval.

  “But it’s summer time. It’s when she’s supposed to cut loose a little bit, honey. Wouldn’t hurt if we extended her curfew to midnight. My boy was allowed to stay out later on the weekends than she is at the same age, darlin’.”

  Avery had now tensed up. Donna was too soft where her offspring were concerned. That had been evident from their first date two years ago. The boy was obviously out of control. It had been a blessing when he finally enlisted in the military a year after graduating high school. Perhaps the Navy would find a way to repair the damage done as a result of his undisciplined upbringing.

  But it wasn’t too late for Sunny. Avery needed to press that upon Donna; he wanted to be a part of that process. He felt responsible now that he was part of this family to ensure that the girl reached her full spiritual potential. It was too easy these days to fall in with the wrong crowd and she had. They were wild party girls. In particular, Gina Margolis. He knew plenty about that one.

  “Do you trust me?” he asked, as his grey eyes searched hers. “Because this is serious and I won’t have you making light of it.”

  “Well, of course I do, Avery. I mean, I know that I haven’t been a perfect parent with my kids, but gosh almighty, I mostly had to do it on my own.”

  “I understand that, sugar. But I’m here now and I’d like to think that I represent a good male influence in Sunny’s life. One that she’s been missing all of these years. It’s not too late to instill some values in her and discipline will enforce that. She needs to learn by accepting the consequences of poor choices and bad decisions.”

  “Discipline?” Donna’s forehead wrinkled wit
h confusion. “Well it isn’t as if I don’t punish her for breaking the rules, Avery. I try to pick my battles, you know? I don’t want to go to war with my only daughter. I remember how that had been with my own mama.” She shuddered at the memories that surfaced. Her mother had never approved of one damn thing she had done her entire life. She hadn’t wanted that to be the way it was between her and her own daughter.

  Avery pulled Donna up from the sofa to stand before him. He framed her face with his large hands. “Listen, Donna. This is important now. You and me? Well, we need to do this together. We’re a family or at least that’s what I thought you wanted us to be.”

  “Oh, I do Avery! You know that I do.”

  “Okay then, you will need to trust my judgment on this. With the crowd of trash she’s running with, well, we have no idea what she’s been doing. Drinking? Smoking dope? Let’s start with curfew, okay? She has to learn there are disciplinary consequences when she breaks the rules. Do you understand?”

  Donna nodded. “Yes, Avery. I understand. You do what you think is best. I trust your judgment on this. I don’t want to fail my children. I meant to be a good mother, I truly did.”

  “I know, sugar. And believe me, I’m not sitting in judgment of you, not for a second. But you didn’t have a man around most of the time, and that’s where it was difficult for you to be both mother and father to your children. Just remember that discipline is a form of love. And it is for her own good, Donna. You need to remember that.”

  She nodded. She knew that Avery was a good man with high moral standards. She was lucky to have him in her life; to ground her and influence her own behavior. Her past was one she wasn’t proud of but Avery hadn’t judged her at all. He had taken to her despite the sullied reputation she had earned along the way.