1979: Beth, I Hear You Calling

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The Place:

Helix High School, San Diego area

The Cast:

• Beth Wilson aka Beth, Lizbeth

• Jim Hanson aka Jay Are (JR), Junior, The Junior

• Cathy Thomas, friend of Beth

• Doug Russell, aka Rowdy

• Mike Julius aka Doctor J

• Alan Julius aka Little J, Little Dipshit

• Steve Danner aka “D”, Big D

• Byron Roberts aka Fleabag

Some other miscreants which don’t warrant calling out

Amazing inventions of 1979

Sony Walkman — that music device in Guardians of the Galaxy. It played cassette tapes. Was very expensive and nobody could afford one, yet. But, wow, portable personal music! Unheard of.

CD player — ushering in the digital music era. They weren’t for sale yet, just invented.

Usenet— Kind of an early version of the Internet, not used by regular people at all

Things we didn’t have:

• Personal Computers

• Internet: Facebook, Instagram, Twitter, etc.

• Cell phones/texting: all phones were at home, plugged into the wall

• Free porn

• Coors Light

• Political Correctness

• Hillary or Donald

Things we did have:

• Indoor plumbing and electricity

• Cars

• Hormones

• Good friends

• 13 TV channels and HBO

• Polaroid cameras

• Legendary parties

• Schlitz, Budweiser, Lowenbrau, Michelob

• Pac-Man, Space Invaders

Popular Music:

All that Classic Rock was brand new! Van Halen, Led Zeppelin, Rolling Stones, Aerosmith, The Cars, Cheap Trick, Blondie, The Pretenders, The Sex Pistols, The Ramones, to name a few…

The Story! (Finally)

So there I was, cleaning out my locker on the last day of my highschool career, when she walked towards me. If this was a movie, she would be moving languidly in slow motion, hair blown by unseen winds, smiling, breasts gently bouncing… but this is text so just imagine all that shit happening.

Heads always turned wherever she went. Two grades behind me, she was already the best looking girl at school. I mean, with her light brunette hair swooping just above her gorgeous eyes, her model-quality face with that cute little button nose, and legs that went on for days, she was the envy of all the girls and the dream of all the boys.

And she liked me! In fact, two weeks ago, we made out at Kripke’s party for almost twenty minutes! I didn’t quite get my hands on her delicious and suckable tits, but I was going to. Really, I was! But I didn’t quite get there before she had to throw up.

The word on the street was she kissed at least six other guys that night, but no matter. I knew that I was the one she liked.

She smiled at me, and I was about to talk to her when Little Dipshit came up and body-checked me against the lockers.

“Fucking Dipshit! You know you aren’t allowed to check me!” He was a year behind me and my boys, and he couldn’t ever start a brawl with a senior like myself.

“Shut up, fag!” Hey, sorry, we didn’t have political correctness, yet. We were just homophobic but weren’t aware of it. “I’m a senior now! So screw your rules!”

I smiled at my gorgeous love, shrugged, and tried to apologize for Alan’s behavior.

“Hey, sorry about this asshole. He is the Dipshit, after all. We try to bring him along slowly, you know. But we can only do so much.”

“It’s okay,” she smiled. “I guess he’s technically a senior now, so you’d better watch out for him.”

Damn, she has a sense of humor, too.

“Yeah, I guess you’re right. Hey Listen. We’re having a party at Rowdy’s house tonight. You know, year end blow-out, music, dancing, and… whatever else.”

I raised my eyebrows rapidly in what I was sure a sexually suggestive manner that she wouldn’t be able to refuse.

“Whaddya say, Jill?”

Time out.

You, the reader, are probably asking yourself, “Who the fuck is Jill? Isn’t this story about Beth? When does the sex start? Will there be blowjobs?” Jill is the girl who’s way too awesome for the likes of me! At least, at this point in my life. The sex will be here when it gets here, settle down. And yeah, blowjobs.

Anyway, back to the action…

“Aw, Jim. Thanks! That’s so sweet! But we’re going to Greg’s tonight.” Greg was one of the other fuckers who kissed her that night two weeks ago. Fuckin’ Greg.

“But maybe we will swing by later, Okay? Good luck in college!”

Well… fuck me in the goat ass.

I don’t know what that meant, I heard one of my dad’s Marine friends say that once. Seemed like it fit in this situation. Anyway, that was the last I ever saw of Jill. Ever. No, she didn’t die. Nobody I know of died in 1979.

Dipshit laughed, then “oofed” as I thumped him in the chest. I didn’t care that he’s bigger than me. A big hand suddenly clamped me on my shoulder from behind. That could only be one person.

“Tough break, man. She probably knows you’re a fag, though.”

I tried to elbow Rowdy in the stomach but missed, that fucker was big but quick.

“Cheer esat escort up, Junior. We are gonna kill it tonight, man! After all: Beer, Pot, Sex and Wine, Helix class of Seventy-NINE!”

We high-fived and laughed and hooted and hollered. Probably scared the underclassmen a bit, made them jealous, I’m sure of it.

Beer, pot, sex and wine… well three out of four ain’t bad? Sigh… I hate to have to admit this, but I managed to escape highschool with my virginity completely intact. Fuck! No female had ever seen my dick since infancy. What kind of life am I leading? Ack!

Tons of uglier guys got laid, but not me. Even fricking Jeff David Harmeyer got laid, and he was a dick! But, I had Zero game. I was terribly shy, partly because of my teenage acne which was, thankfully, clearing up, but also my upbringing was by a pretty strict mother; I was taught to totally respect women. Which is good, really. But I also thought it meant don’t inflict my nasty, sex-obsessed, masturbating self on them. Good girls don’t want that kind of thing. Okay, yeah, I was stupid. But that’s really what I thought.

Doctor J, Big D, and Fleabag came along about then.

“Dudes!” Dipshit shouted to them. “You shoulda seen The Junior strike out, it was classic! Jill thinks he’s a fag, for sure.”

Okay, we will keep it politically correct from now on, sorry about that.

I looked to Mike, the good Doctor, hoping he would handle his little brother, who was actually bigger than all of us.

Mike nodded, grabbed Dipshit by the ear and pulled his head down, making Dipshit almost cry.

“Call Junior that name, one more time. Just one more time.”

Even Dipshit, as dumb as he was, knew that when Mike used that tone, he better start shutting up, real quick.

Dipshit stood back up, rubbing his ear.

“Sorry, Junior. I mean, Jim. No harm right?”

I laughed and blew him a kiss.

“Maybe I do bat for the other team, Dipshit. And I’m coming for you at the party, tonight, big boy.”

He got a nervous look on his face, then got mad as all of us started wailing on him with mock blows.

Mr. Jackson, our homeroom teacher and advisor, watched from his doorway.

“Will you assholes go ahead and graduate already? Please?”

We laughed and shook his hand, saying our farewells. Well, not Dipshit. He had another year still to go and we weren’t sure he would ever graduate. We knew Mr. Jackson smoked, maybe he would smoke with us one day soon since we were… out of school!

Party Extraordinaire!

I was hanging in the kitchen, verbally assisting Big D as he cranked out blended drinks… just totally cruising and enjoying my mellow. I was a tad bummed out about Jill, but what the fuck, ya know? Rowdy’s party was in high gear, I shit thee not. I had reached maximum bongage levels of weed, and the Southern Comfort punch was oh so nice. Like I said, I was cruising!

We were somewhere in the middle of the first side of the Parallel Lines album when this decent-looking chick came up and started talking to me. This didn’t happen to me everyday, believe it or not. She had two other girls in tow behind her, giggling girls. I hated giggling.

“Jim, we need your car and some money for Taco Bell.”

I tried to focus on what she said, but the gears in my brain turned rather slowly, trying to formulate some kind of reasonable response to this person who looked vaguely familiar, but I couldn’t place her. Why does Taco Bell need my money? How do they even know me? What I managed to come up with as a response to this chick was…

“Wha—?” I was trying to say “what” but I guess I forgot the “t” at the end. It happens.

“Jim. There’s no food here. If we don’t eat, we are going to die.”

Well I didn’t want anyone to die, plus I already said a few paragraphs up that nobody dies, so I had to keep my promise. It seemed reasonable.

“Um… yeah, that’s like, totally casual… Can I get two tacos?”

Casual was the word of the year, I guess. We had kind of a surf lingo thing goin on. If something was good, it was known as casual. Or just cazh, as in Totally cazh, man. Yeah, well, young people say a lot of stupid things. Moving on.

I handed her a twenty and my car keys. Well, truck keys. I had one of those mini-trucks from back then. A Chevy Luv with cool wheels and a half decent stereo. And a manual transmission.

“Hey! Can you drive… a… stick?” My voice faded out as they had already left.

I turned to Doctor J, who seemed to have appeared from outta nowhere.

“Who the fuck was that? When did you get here?”

“Dude, you’re so spaced, I’ve been here all night! You just gave your truck to somebody you don’t know? Classic Junior!”

Hey, I said I was cruising. I didn’t say I could handle it!

“Well, she was cute. Wasn’t she? But she seemed a little blurry. Who was she, Doc?” I liked that truck and now wondered if I would get it back. But then I thought, tacos are, like, twenty-nine etimesgut escort cents apiece. Twenty dollars will buy, like, 236 tacos. This is going to be epic! I’ll be remembered as the man who saved the party with 257 tacos! I was picturing the award I was going to receive when Doc started talking to me. When did he get here?

“I guess I’ll tell you, but you’re so wasted you won’t even remember. That’s Beth. Wilson? Come on, Junior, wake up. You know, Eric’s little sister. She used to hang around your sister a lot. Aw shit, fisticuffs are brewing. I need to intervene, cooler heads must always prevail.”

The good Doctor was like that, talking weird and keeping the peace. And apparently he appeared and disappeared rather quickly.

Beth… Wilson… yeah… it started coming back to me. She was this twerpy friend of my baby sister. A year younger than me, but then I was kind of old for high school at nineteen. My sister would have birthday parties back in like sixth and seventh grade with six or eight screaming girls who would sneak around and spy on me as I did very interesting older brother things, like cutting the grass. Beth… she seemed to scream somewhat less than the others, and brought me a cold Coke once while the others hid and snickered.

Beth… she didn’t seem quite as twerpy tonight. But maybe I was just high. In fact she was rather cute, and had a shape on her. A rather decent shape on her, I think. It was still a little foggy there in the kitchen.

“Fleabag!”

“Yes, sir!”

“Get me a Coke! I must get sober.”

“Right away, Sir. And Bacardi? 151? Sir, as your attorney, I advise you not—”

“Just Coke. Unopened.”

I never should have let him read that Hunter Thompson book.

Fleabag, or “Byron” as his parents called him, owed me bigtime for saving his ass in Chemistry. He promised to do anything for me. I thought being my servant for two weeks would be nice.

He delivered the cold sixteen ounce bottle, unopened.

“Fleabag, I can’t drink it like this.”

“But you said unop—”

“Fleabag! Remind me what a covalent bond is!”

He hung his head.

“It’s what holds two atoms… oh, you’re being… Right away, Sir.”

I finished my Coke, even though it tasted funny, and positively sobered up about the time Beth came back, I was positive of that fact. Positively sober.

She handed me my keys with a smile. Fuck, she had nice teeth. They were so white! Oh yeah, her dad’s a dentist… or an orthodontialist… yeah. She handed me some change, too.

“How, how did you buy four hundred tacos and get me change?” She must be a whiz at math or something.

She looked at me.

“How high are you?”

“I’m completely sober. See?” I showed her the empty coke bottle… which, upon closer examination, bore a striking resemblance to a tall bottle of Lowenbrau.

“Fuck…”

Maybe I overrated my sobrietitiousness. Sobrieticity. Maybe I wasn’t sober. There, fixed it.

“Here’s your tacos, Jim.”

I reached out and gently grabbed her arm.

“Eat with me, you have to make sure I don’t vomit and die, like Jim Morbleson.”

“Jim… Morrison? Of the Doors?”

Beth and her friends laughed with me. God, I am so fucking funny when I party!

We sat and ate crunchy tacos and I drank some real Coke, not beer.

“So, were all of you at my sisters parties?”

They giggled and started chattering about how mean I was to them and… some other crap… I don’t know, I couldn’t keep up. I laughed when was supposed to, I think.

Somebody put on a Kiss album… Wait! It was Destroyer! We chatted more but I was paying keen attention to the songs. I had the girls laughing so hard with me, at me, I don’t know… and then the third song ended.

I grabbed Beth’s hand and dragged her to the living room. We charged into the middle of the crowd and I hollered at everyone to make room.

The piano chords started, and I held out my hands to slow dance with Beth, but I was holding my hands like for a Waltz or something. She laughed and joined me as we slowly swung around the room.

Peter Criss’s vocals rang out soft and clear:

Beth I hear you calling

But I can’t come home right now

Me and the boys are playing

And we just can’t find the sound

After that first verse, my arms drew her in close to me, and she wrapped her arms around my neck. Our bodies touched, her breasts pushed into my chest.

Some people hooted as I slid my hands into the back pockets of her jeans. Then others began joining in the slow dance.

Now, this may seem unbelievable, but I can provide sources if you need it. The fact is, I had never slow danced with a girl up to now. I know, I know, what kind of a man-who-likes-other-men was I? Naw, I was just shy.

So Beth’s ass was the first ass I ever touched, and I liked it! Soft yet firm, and she wriggled herself in a little closer to me. However, a problem began rising. And by etlik escort problem I mean a hard-on. Mine, in fact. Nice girls don’t want to know I’m a horny fucker who masturbates four times a day! Oh shit, Beth is gonna hate me!

I tried to back away, but Beth grabbed me tighter and kept her body pressed up on mine.

The song ended way too soon. But, fortunately, I had my own personal…

“Fleabag!”

“Yessir!”

“Chicago’s greatest hits, second side, Stat!”

Beth and I stood there in the dark for a full minute, holding each other, while Byron found the record. I swore he said something about being my attorney, and advising me to fuck off, but I let it slide.

As the slow song began (“Wishing You Were Here”), my hands completely cupped Beth’s ass and I lifted her up a few inches. She grabbed my neck hard, holding on tight and giggling as we spun around a couple times. Amazingly, we didn’t fall and I set her back on the ground.

The stereo put out this terrible noise as someone scratched the complete shit out of that album.

“What the fuck is this shit!” Rowdy hollered.

Immediately, Terrible Ted Nugent, the Motor City Madman, started screaming about getting someone in a Stranglehold, and that was the end of the slow dancing.

Beth and I stepped outside, holding hands, and found a quiet place to hang.

“Wherever have you been all year?” I asked her, very disappointedly. “How come I’m just finding you, now?”

Yeah, it sounded like I was short on time. You see, I had a shitty secret that I hadn’t told anyone. No, I didn’t have cancer and I wasn’t becoming gay tomorrow. But… well you’ll find out later.

She smiled at me, that cute smile that was a tad bit crooked and oh so adorable. So, she wasn’t the amazing “Jill”. But she was real, she was cute, she was sexy, and I liked her. And she was liking me.

“I’ve been right here, we had that history class together last semester. ‘American Wars,’ remember?”

Yeah, I remembered now. She had braces and… goofy hair… and glasses I think.

“You’ve changed a lot since then. You’re um, You’re a woman, now..”

“I’m glad you noticed, Jim.”

“Wait a minute! Didn’t you say that the Battle of Midway was not the turning point of the war? Something about the Coral Sea or some shit?”

We proceeded to argue over the various points and counterpoints of the two classic naval battles. I don’t remember if either of us conceded their point, I just remember being stunned that I could have this conversation with a high school girl.

We talked for an hour or more, and she did agree with me that the F4F Wildcat did a credible job, but the F4U Corsair was the creme de la creme of carrier fighter planes.

Damn, her eyes sparkle when she talks about history!

I was getting ready to make my big move when we were suddenly interrupted by a herd of wild females.

“Beth! There you are! I’ve been lookin all over for you. It’s almost midnight. Jennifer has to go, and I do too.”

“Jim, this is Cathy. Cathy, Jim.”

We both laughed at Beth. Cathy blurted out, “Duh? We were talking for half an hour inside, remember?”

We all laughed and Beth leaned over and hugged me. Then, she started to go! To leave!

“You can’t just… go? What about… um… I mean, we just kinda met and… I can drive you home?”

She came back and hugged me again, and whispered in my ear, “Stay here, don’t drive anywhere. Your sister has my number.”

And that was our first date. Without a kiss. Just a bit of grinding. I loved that date.

Okay okay! I know there isn’t any sex yet! These things take time, you know? Keep reading! There will be sex and tits and stuff, I promise. Not, like, really big tits. But very nice, firm, supple tits… you will like them. I did.

The Second Date

I called Beth the next afternoon, after my hangover went away, to see how she was doing, and to ask her out for that night since we were now out of school. She seemed excited at the prospect of perhaps kissing me, The Junior. I mean, who wouldn’t be?

Well, lots of people, it seemed. But let’s not tell her that.

So I picked her up and we went and saw the movie Alien, the original, when it was brand new. That movie was scary back then, we weren’t immersed in constant gore films and the dramatic tension was palpable. I had fingernail marks on my forearm from her squeezing me.

We went to some famous pie place and had dessert, great conversation, and lots of laughs. Then I took her home.

We made out in my truck for about ten minutes or so. She was kinda on me, and I got all embarrassed and nervous about my hard on. Good girls don’t like that kind of thing. My memories of the party were a little foggy, and I was trying to show her I was a good guy and not some sex-crazed druggie.

I kissed her and smiled all the way home, very pleased with myself.

I called her a couple times the next day. Her mom said that, “Beth was busy right now.”

Huh. Busy? All day? And didn’t call me back? What the duck? I mean, what the fuck? Damn you autocorrect…

I had my little sister call Beth’s house, her mom said to wait a second, she would get her. I took the phone from sissy and waited.

“Hey Debbie, what’s up?”

I answered.

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