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About Pam

By: Saw That Coming



While I was in college (the second go around, it's a long story) I met, in an acting class, a girl named Pam. 

We spent the entire semester as acting partners. Pam was cute. Short, dark hair, and a great smile. Funny with a quick wit, and incredibly sweet. Still, Pam seemed to me – at the time – to be a bit shy, and reserved. Although we became friendly in class, that's all that there was to it. 

The girl of my dreams that year was Misty. Ohhhh, Misty. Good gracious what a body this girl had! It was in every sense of the word, perfect. All of nineteen years old, with a flat little belly and delicious up-turned breasts, this girl was every college boy's wet dream. Ummmmm mine too!

But, alas, although Misty was polite to me, the girl would have nothing to do with me. This didn't keep me from trying all term long however. Mom didn't raise any smart boys.

Fall swept in, all gusty winds and swirling leaves, bringing the school year to an end, and Misty (and Pam) faded into the whirlwind of faces that you used to know.

One morning, the following summer – and completely out of nowhere – Pam called me at home. (We had traded numbers in class, homework you know.) To say I was surprised would have been a bit of an understatement, but the surprises were far from over.

Pam asked, "Are you very busy this afternoon?" Now I have to tell you, Pam was raised in the Midwest – so I have no idea where she got it from – but she always managed to sound just a little bit from England. I loved that about her. (I have this accent thing; it's almost as strong as my "flat belly" thing.) Anyway, she wound up inviting me to brunch. 

Well, it was just great to see her. We had a hell of a good time. We talked nonstop, finished eating and just sat and enjoyed each other's company till the waiter was just about bouncing off the walls. As much fun as I was having, there was a question that I was just dying to ask – but just couldn't bring myself to it. 

At last when I could stand it no more (and was deeply in fear that the afternoon was about be brought to a violent end by a knife-wielding waiter) I asked. "Pam, it's wonderful to see you, and I'm really having a good time. But I have to tell you, I'm a little surprised that you called me." 

(*Footnote; This conversation took place longer ago then I care to believe. Therefore, although the content may be skewed by time, the sentiment is dead on.)

"Well," Pam said, "I really kind of liked you in class, and I never acted on it. So I guess I'm here to tell you that I really liked you."

My jaw sagged. "Well Pam, why didn't you act on it?"

She laughed. "Andy! You spent the entire semester trying to…" She paused, her smile faded and she became a bit serious. "…Trying to pursue Misty! What chance did I have?"

Pursue, nice word; and I understood her pause now. She had struggled to find a word other than "fuck."

I HAD spent the entire class trying to fuck Misty. Jeez, what a jerk. I felt a deep blush coming on.

Then my Mother's eldest son said the dumbest thing… "You know, I'm not dating anyone now."

I heard the trap snap shut.

"Oh, I have a boyfriend."

So this is what it was all about. She wanted me to know, to my face, what a jerk I had been. Well, I guess I had it coming. Well it was a total success. I felt like a complete turd.

"Pam, I'm so sorry."

"Oh, don't be! She was very beautiful and you were just looking for sex. Something that I totally understand. Which brings us nicely to why I asked you here." 

'…Nicely to why I asked you here…' Such a British phrase, I felt something stirring in my jeans.

"It does?" I asked, completely bewildered.

"I told you that I have a boyfriend?" 

I nodded.

"Well, he's joined the Army. He's been gone for two months now, and he still has three more to go."

I nodded again. Dumbly. I had no idea where this was going. 

She smiled. A brilliant smile, all teeth and shining eyes. She shook her head slightly and leaned in closer. Close enough to touch. Close enough to feel her sweet breath on my cheek.

"I miss the sex. I want to have… an affair." She sat back and watched my face.

Well, that wasn't shocking. I could understand that completely. 

(There are electrodes in the brain that due to lack of use, fail.)

Hell, in the same boat I would feel just the same too. It had been a very long time since I had sex and I surely understood how you miss it. 

(Sometimes life moves in slow motion. Sometimes realization moves slower.) 

Besides it wasn't like she was married… 

(A normal teenage boy thinks about sex once every ten seconds…)

But I didn't understand why she felt so compelled to tell me about it… 

(I was never normal.)

Perhaps she thought I knew someone who she could have her affair with…

Suddenly I sat back.

I slowly raised my hands to my chest placing one over the other, surely looking all the world like Tom Hanks (would look years later) in "Forest Gump" when he asked about his son, 'Is he like me?'

"You want to have an affair…" I paused, sure that I was about to make a huge ass of myself. "…With me?"

"Well I wasn't going to ask until you said that you weren't seeing anyone, but yes."

Do you know that I can't remember a thing about the drive to my house? I can't remember if she followed in her car, or if we left her car at the restaurant. I only remember that I drove very fast. I drove home as fast as I was able…

…fearing of course that Pam would snap out of whatever spell she was under, wake up and realize that she really wanted nothing to do with me. 

We got to my house and I had a religious experience. My parents were not home; God had answered my prayer. I laughed aloud and told Pam what I had been worrying about. Both of us giggling like school children we rushed up the stairs and into my bedroom.

Once there, again I had to ask. "Why me?" 

"Because I liked you, because you're sexy. You have a great laugh, and the best smile. More importantly you always treated me nicely." Then she kissed me. A deep French kiss that removed almost all my doubts concerning her seriousness about this adventure. (Acting was going to be just a sideline, I majored in doubt.)

I pulled her close and we began to undress on another. Pam had one more surprise for me. Under all of those frumpy clothes she always wore, Pam was hiding a very nice body. When I saw her naked, at last I was sure that this was no joke. And if I needed anymore convincing the next few hours and the several times we made love surely did the trick.

Made love, not quite what we did. It was pure sex. And the first time that I had ever experienced anything like it in my life. Pam had a passion, an appetite for sex ,that (previous to meeting her) I was sure only men could possess. Well, more correctly – that I was sure that only I possessed. Having had only a few sexual partners, I was beginning to get the idea that my needs were greater than anyone else on the planet. In Pam I found a partner that was my equal. Or better. She left me wanting for nothing. (Ok perhaps an oxygen tank, but just a small one.)

Late in the afternoon as summer sun beat against the house turning my living area into more of a blast furnace than a bedroom, Pam and I took a break. I rolled off of her and lay at her side to admire her body. She was sweat soaked, her dark brown hair turned black with moisture. Beads of sweat collected on her breasts and rib cage. A collection of tiny rivulets ran from her chest to her belly making the smallest pool there. 

Hot sweaty sex. I was in heaven.

I smiled and nearly laughed thinking of a phrase that I had once heard. She caught me.

"What?" She asked.

Busted I had to tell. "You look like you have been ridden hard and put away wet."

She smiled and wiping her hand across my soaking neck said, "Umm I'm not the only one." Pam looked around the room. "We need to cool off, do you have a shower up here?"

"Nope," I answered. "Just a half bath. Besides my parents could be getting home at any moment."

"That's too bad, I could really use a nice shower to cool down."

"I have a better idea," I said.

"What's that?" She asked raising one eyebrow, like Spock.

"Evaporation."

"Evaporation?"

"Yep, evaporation. Follow me."

We dressed and went outside. To her credit Pam didn't ask any more questions. I think she sensed that I was having fun and that a surprise was in store.

We went into the garage and I threw the tarp off of my motorcycle with a magician's flourish.

"Oh, you have a bike!" She was nearly squealing with delight. 

I laughed hard and said, "You never made any noises like that upstairs!"

"Oh but I LOVE motorcycles! Can we go for a ride?"

"Absolutely."

We spent the rest of the afternoon and a good part of the evening just cruising. Had it been a date, I would have called it one of the best of my life. We stopped for ice cream; we rode deep into the countryside. The "Meatloaf" song that begins, "It was a hot summer night…" kept running in my head.

As evening turned to night, it got a bit chilly and we turned for home. Pam snuggled close and wrapped her arms tightly around my chest. Man, there is nothing better than riding on a cool night with a girl holding you close!

As we parked the bike in my garage Pam asked, "Have you ever had any REAL fun on this bike?" 

"Never." I answered.

"Want to?" 

"Absolutely!"

"Close the door."

Before I could get the garage door closed and turn around again Pam had stripped down naked and jumped on the bike. She lay down over the gas tank and raised her ass high off of the seat. "Do you think this will work?"

"It will, or I'll kill myself trying." I practically ripped my clothes off and very nearly did kill us, jumping on the bike with such enthusiasm. It was balance only on its kickstand; we virtually went tumbling over the other side. I propped the bike on the center-stand and sat down behind Pam.

Well we gave it a real go, but as it turned out it didn't work out as well as I would have liked it too. Pam's legs were too short to reach the ground, and when she balanced on the foot-pegs it made us too top heavy giving us some real thrills! My mother owned a hatchback of some kind or the other so we wound up finishing what we started in her car. 

But to this day, if someone asks me 'what is the most interesting place that you have made love' I will tell them that I was on my motorcycle. Of course I also stretch the truth a bit and say that it was on one of those country roads while moving at 60 MPH. 

Pam and I spent that summer doing what ever it was that we were doing. She kept reminding me that her boyfriend was coming home at summers end and I kept telling her that I was cool with that, while I kept trying to fight off a growing sense of falling in love.

Mostly and by-and-large it remained a strictly sexual relationship. We would go out to eat and stuff, see movies, visit the zoo. But both of us understood that at some point, or rather multiple points during the day – there would be sex.

The sex was phenomenal. 

As I drove her home in the car one afternoon (no bike, rain) Pam developed a need for auto-erotic sex (horrible pun, forgive me) and about a mile from her house she disappeared from view below my steering wheel. This was yet another first time experience for me, one of many since our little affair, and I was enjoying it tremendously. 

Perhaps a bit to tremendously. At a red light I caught a woman in the car to my left, staring at me with unabashed disgust. I laughed and told Pam, "You should see this lady next to us!"

Of course at that Pam, having a sense of humor tuned even finer than my own, popped her head up to have a look, and also to give the woman her money's worth.

Suddenly Pam threw her head back into my lap so violently that she almost did me permanent damage. "Oh my God!" she said.

"Ouch, what?"

"It's my MOTHER!"

"You're kidding?"

"No!"

"Did she recognize you?"

"I don't know – you look."

I glanced out of the corner of my vision so intently that I strained my eye sockets. There was no way I was going to look at the woman face forward! "She's driven off!"

"Well did she look mad?"

I honestly couldn't tell / didn't see. "I don't think so."

"Great, well you can' t drive me home, let's go somewhere else."

I drove with no direction in mind for about five minutes. Finally I said, "I think you can sit up now." I wasn't sure she would.

After quite some time Pam had me drive her home. But she made me come into the house with her. She said that if she was going to have to face the music, there was no way in hell that she was going to do it alone. 

We parked the car about a block away, just in case her Mother were to recognize it, and walked the rest of the way. Stepping into that house I think, was the bravest thing that I have ever done. Because I knew that her Father would be waiting on the other side of the door with a gun and that I was surely dead. But if I had to die I would die a gentleman and tell her father that I forced her to do it. However unless he blew my head off, I would spite him and die with a smile on my face.

As it turned out, Pam's Father wasn't even home and her Mother showed not one flicker when I shook her hand, introduce myself and met her (formally) for the first time!

At the end of one of the best summers of my life, Pam's boyfriend did come home. We continued to see one-another for a while, but with growing infrequency. I think I would have lasted longer with her had I not continued to try and convince her to leave her boyfriend and let me take his place.

Despite every effort on my part, I had fallen in love with her. 

It was a strange thing because I knew that I didn't have a shot, but I had to try. So when I failed, I wasn't really disappointed because I knew all along that it was a very long shot. 

There were no bitter feelings between us, quite the opposite. I was very grateful for the time that we had together and for the experience. And Pam seems genuinely fond of me. She didn't love me, but I think it was something very close.

We drifted apart and lost touch.

Years later I called her old phone number at home and spoke to her father. (By the way, her father became quite fond of me too.) Pam's Dad gave me a number where I could reach her and told me that she was newly married. Although I was also married by that time, I was still a bit hurt when I heard this news. I guess in a way I had always believed that she would find her way back to me.

Curiosity being stronger than good sense, I gave her a call in spite of my marital status. I rationalized that I just wanted to know how she was.

She seemed thrilled to hear from me. We spoke for quite sometime and at the end of the call she invited my wife and I to come and visit them in their new home. 

As much as I would have loved to see her, my wife has no tolerance at all for former girlfriends. I knew it would never happen. But I held out hope that perhaps I could meet her alone sometime. Just to say hi. (Really).

Sometime thereafter I lost my phone book. And I haven't spoken to her since. 

And once again Pam has disappeared into that whirlwind of faces that you used to know.

About Parents & Sex



ONE

Sitting reading on the back porch in the late afternoon sun, Maggie Sargeson saw her daughter come around the house; she beamed until noticing Vera was not looking at all happy.

"Hullo, darling, called Maggie, tossing a bright greeting hoping to defuse an unhappy tirade. She hoped her son had not been – what was it Vera called it? - oh yes, desk-fucking his secretary again.

"Hi mom. Can we talk?"

Maggie didn't know what else they did when together. Lags in conversation between them were huge if lasting more than a half second.

"I've got something vary serious to talk to you about," said Vera, her brow carrying that perplexed look.

"Oh dear, that secretary being leaning over the desk again?"

"What secretary are you talking about?" Vera asked, the brow furrows increasing in depth.

"Oh, must have been something I watched on TV," Maggie said vaguely, and to her relief Vera shied away from that goof.

"It's dad; you'll have to refer him to a specialist for urgent treatment."

"Conroy, what's wrong with Conroy?" asked Maggie in alarm. "Come inside dear – I don't wish the neighbors to hear this. "What does Conroy have wrong with him?"

"I don't know the medical term, but we call it dirty old man's syndrome.

"Gloria called me to say she couldn't sleep all night last night worrying, because when she met dad in the supermarket she become conscious that he was looking at her breasts rather than looking at her."

"But her breasts are her, dear."

"But mom – REALLY looking at them."

"What do you mean, salivating like a hungry wolf?"

"Mom, do you mind? This is deadly serious. Gloria is so worried for me and you and she almost feels she needs medication."

"Gloria does? But she's normally such a sensible girl."

"Girl? She's a mother with two tots, mom which is two more than what I've got. She'd told Marcy and Lizzie and Karsen and me when we met this morning for coffee and I was asked to speak to you about dad. We'll all so supportive of you mom and we are desperate to shield you from him. Where is he now?"

"Well, I haven't really seen him since six this morning…"

"He'll be out on the prowl now doubt."

"What prowl?"

"Looking for young flesh."

"Why?"

"To fiendishly consume."

"What eat? Don't be so disgusting and absurd, Vera."

"No silly – to have his way with. To fuck, mommy. There, I've said it."

"I think not, dear. He was gardening for two hours, and then went fishing all morning, then hurried back to change and go to golf where he'll be now with the very respectable Dr Morse, Judge Howard and, hmmmm, the not so respectable Mark Drum."

"Are you sure?"

"Of course I am darling; it's Wednesday and he's always at golf. They'll be finished and in the clubhouse now – here's my phone, call him?"

"N-o-o-o. I won't do that."

Maggie looked at her daughter and smiled. It was time for her youngest to have another sex lesson even though she was twenty-six.

"Vera, your father and I still have sex and enjoy it."

Her daughter's dark eyes turned huge and her mouth fell open.

"S-s-sex - you two still have sex once a month at your ages?"

"I'm only forty-eight, darling, and if I'm still not having sex when I'm seventy-eight I'll be greatly disappointed, I think, though one never knows. Your father is fifty-one and he's still plowing away like..."

"Mom!" shrieked Vera. "Spare me the details, please."

"Very well – but I'm not allowing you to get away with that once a month comment – three times a week is more like it, minimum."

Vera boggled.

She rushed up and hugged her mother.

"Oh mom, you poor darling. Fancy being subjected to such beastly behavior."

Maggie thought it was time to be firm.

"Vera, that's enough. Let's talk about something else but I just ask you this: I want you to tell your Tuesday group what I've just told you about having sex and the frequency and also you might add I look forward to it just as much as your father does and we don't only just do Missionary. Then perhaps they should ask mothers about their attitudes and whatever about sex. I think it's time you girls got yourselves up to speed; this is the 21st Century, you know – not the Dark Ages."

"Yes mom," answered Vera demurely, but inside she was agog.

TWO

Tuesday was coffee morning followed by some group shopping then lunch for the three young moms, not accompanied by children, and the two motherless (so far) more recently marrieds. Marcy, Lizzie, Karsen, Gloria and Vera met in a state of excitement because it was time to collectively share findings.

All knew about Vera's parents, because they'd been told on the phone and were then asked to report on Tuesday on what they could learn about their parents and sex.

"Bob and I will have to increase our frequency – mom and dad are doing it more often," said Gloria. "And mom seems to talk to me with pride about this, saying some couples dry off – I think that's the term she used – not long after their last child was born. But others, she said there's no stopping them until – and this was the disgusting part – until it's too dry and wrinkled for him to finger and he can't get it up."

The young women looked at one another horrified, and then they all burst into laughter.

Karsen reported her mother was too embarrassed to talk to her about it so she asked her father. He was so sad telling Karsen her mother would no longer open her legs to him because she'd found out that once he'd had an affair with their babysitter. Now the only sex he had was with women he knew who were interested and those opportunities were decreasing. However, the new librarian at his office seemed to be particularly friendly with him and twice had asked him out for a drink.

"I told him to accept next time she asked, and I was gratified to see that old smile come back to his face – I felt as if I'd done a marvelous thing," said Karsen.

Marcy was disappointed that her parents only did it once a month. Marcy's eyes turned huge: "Mom told me she and her friend Veronica were more that just best friends."

There was gasps from the other young women, unsure whether to sympathize or say something like ‘Well done Mrs Curtis'.

"So long as your mom is happy, that's all that matters," smiled Gloria. Everyone agreed and Marcy looked very pleased, saying she was glad her mom was not totally lesbian.

They received new coffees and looked at Lizzie, glad she'd waiting to be last, because her report would be the best because her mom was so outrageous, having worked on the stage, had her pilot's license, had been married three times and had been twice arrested in drug busts, although not proceeding to Court. Her current hair color is orange.

Lizzie, looking quite flushed, began: "Er…"

"Come on, Lizzie. We are your friends," said Karsen.

"Mom says she has sex most days, sometime more than once a day and sometimes they have other people with them."

Lizzie hung her head.

"That's very interesting," said Gloria, rather shocked. "There is no need to venture into that domain, is it, er, Vera?"

"No, definitely not," said her closest and equally prim friend. 

Marcie and Karsen looked very disappointed.

From that point the conversation went down hill, none of them really knowing what to think except it seemed that older people still had sex and professed to enjoy it.

Vera had to report back to her mom. 

THREE

"Well?" asked Maggie as soon as Vera walked through the doorway.

Daughter Vera knew she wasn't being asked to comment on the weather.

"It seems that everyone is into it mom and professing they like it. Lizzie's mom is fifty-three and has sex most days and sometimes other people join in."

"Omigawd," gasped Maggie, sitting down. "Details please."

Lizzie was so embarrassed we did not encourage her to continue; in fact we eased her gently out of the conversation."

"How lovely of you girls, that was very supportive of you. Fancy though, Stella Rawlings into group sex."

Maggie said it had been a useful lesson to Vera, not to make assumptions that older people were not into things younger people did, be it running, tennis, reading young love novels or sex.

Vera agreed, she'd learned her lesson and in future would not be so judgmental.

"But please tell dad not to stare at Gloria's breasts. Her saw her in the library yesterday and she said he was positively licking his lips, looking at them.

"Oh, he's still a young man at heart."

"Mom, I don't feel you realize the seriousness of this. He's ogling Gloria."

"How does Gloria feel about this?"

"She phones me up to talk about it, saying it's giving her hot flushes and she often pictures the image of him peering at her breasts."

"Oh, then it sounds as if they may have a go at each other shortly."

"Mum! Gloria's my best friend and has two darling little children and a husband who loves her and she loves him. You've got to stop it. Dad can't go around fucking anyone he sees."

"He doesn't dear, rest assured. You father is very cautious and discriminatory. It takes the pressure off me when he finds an interest elsewhere. A girl my age kinda likes a bit of breathing space now and then."

"But mom, Gloria's twenty-six – half his age."

"Exactly half I should think, dear. But what is the relevance of that?"

"I, um...Gloria's my best friend. Don't you mind who dad fucks?"

"Not really dear if I know them. I certainly have no problem with Gloria. I've known here all her live."

"Mom," wailed Vera. "You've dumped me into a huge new crisis."

"Not me, dear. Blame Gloria's tits."

THE END