On Wednesday I am hanging with my friends, Rachel and Dusty.  Sophomore year in college is coming and being back home is so fucking boring.  There is literally nothing to do.  We are too young to go to the bars, not that there are any in this shithole that are worth a look.  I am so fucking listless and tired. 

Tired of talking and tired of music, we start driving.  In our small town, there isn’t much going on.  Eventually, we end up at the bowling alley.  It is packed.  We all get Cokes and sit at the one remaining table and idly watch people in horrible shirts bowl.  There is a bar adjoining the alley area. 

Eventually, an older guy wanders out carrying a drink.  He looks around, sees us and wanders over towards our table.  Sitting in the remaining empty chair, he smiles at us.

“Hope you don’t mind me sharing the table with you.  All the other chairs are taken.”

Clearly there are other chairs at other tables.  Our table happens to have the only college girls in the alley, or within thirty miles for that matter.  My friends look at each other and I know they are about to say something.

“Fine.  No problem,”  I say.

Rachel and Dusty give me looks like I’m out of my mind.  I shrug.  I am exhausted by this small-town ennui.  At least this creepy guy is something!

“My name is Dale.”

No one responds.  Finally, I say, “Vanessa”.  Dale is old, probably forty.  He has a gut.  He’s not ugly but not attractive at all.

“You girls in college?”

No one responds.  I look at Dale.  How creepy is this guy?  He couldn’t know if we were sixteen or nineteen.  Bored as I am, I decide to have some fun.

“High school.”  Then, “What are you drinking?”

Rachel and Dusty gape.  What am I saying?  Why am I talking to this creep?  I’m bored and this may get interesting.  Dale doesn’t even blink.

“Jack and Coke,”  he says with a smile.

Dale slides the glass over to us. “Want a sip?”

Dusty and Rachel shake their heads.  After a moment, I reach over, pick it up and take a drink.  My friends gape.  I sit the glass down.

“Thanks.  Tastes good.  What’s in it?”

“Whiskey and coke.”

I take another sip, lick my lips and smile.  My friends look appalled but I don’t care.  Dale tells us about how he has this great job.  He is traveling all the time and the money is great.  He just bought a new truck.  I reach over and take a third sip.  The glass is almost empty.

“Whoa.  I’ll be right back.”

He leaves and heads for the bar.

“Are you out of your fucking mind?”  Dusty hisses.

“He’s a major creep!”  Rachel adds.

“And what’s with this high school shit?” Dusty adds.

“It’s fun,” I say. 

I am just in a 'don’t give a fuck' mood and this game may get interesting.  My friends want to leave but I refuse.  Dale returns with a fresh drink and sits it down.  I take another sip. 

“Let’s go,”  Rachel says. 

Dusty stands up.  I reach over and take a large gulp. 

“See you,” I say.  The girls leave.

Dale looks stricken.  I lean over, take the pen from his shirt pocket and write my Kik handle on his hand.  "DarkVanessa2004."

“What’s this?”

“It’s my Kik handle.”

“What’s Kik?”

“Look it up.” 

I leave and join the girls outside.  On the way home, all they could talk about is Dale and how creepy he is.  Dale is a creep.  He is old and wears a ball cap.  I can’t explain why I didn’t ignore him.  I don’t know why I started this game.  It feels dangerous somehow, a relief from this unrelenting boredom, from my useless life. 

I am laying in bed staring at the ceiling when a message arrives.

“Hi,” it says from DMan79.  What the fuck.  I’m not surprised that he reached out but why that handle.  Dale is texting a girl young enough to be his daughter and he’s just outed himself as being forty.  Stupid!

“Hey HRU,” I respond. 

“Good.”

For the next hour, we go back and forth.  I learn he’s divorced with no kids.  At least he doesn’t have daughters my age to ramp up the creep factor.  He asks me about my life, what I do, what I like.  Then comes the inevitable questions that I seem to get from any high school boy I’m messaging. 

“What are you wearing?”

This isn’t creepy at all.  A forty-year-old man asking me what I’m wearing.  This is too soon somehow.  Even though I’m wearing a t-shirt and panties, I lie.  Again.

“Light sweats.”

“What else?”

I’m wearing boy shorts but say, “Panties.”

Then I say, “What do you want?”

“Would you like to see my truck sometime?”

I really do not give a shit, but would riding around in his truck be any more boring than this summer in Shithole, USA? 

“We could do some road drinking.”

Drinking could be a relief.  It could help me forget my pathetic life.  Reluctantly I say okay.

The next night Dale picks me up in the bowling alley parking lot and we start driving around.  He hands me a large plastic glass.  I take a sip.  Jack and Coke.  He’s talking a lot about his truck.  I’m half-listening.  The Jack is starting to work.  The boredom starts to retreat.  We continue to drive in silence. 

As we are passing the school, Dale pulls in.  The place is deserted.  We park in the empty parking lot.  The radio playing is the only thing to break the silence.  A feeling of emptiness eases over me.  I am at the place that used to be the center of my universe with a creepy guy that is, what, the center of my current universe? 

How pathetic am I?  What am I doing?  Other girls are cutting.  Other girls are binging and purging?  This girl is in a truck with a creepy guy named Dale.  Is this my fate?  I feel so wound up I’m about to pop.  Just how far am I going to take this game?

“Come over here.”

I unfasten my seat belt.  Sliding over to Dale, I sit next to him.  I am wearing a loose top and distressed jeans.  He strokes my knee through a hole in the jeans.

“Why the holes?”

“Don’t know.”

He puts an arm around me.  After a while, he nuzzles my neck.  His hand strokes my arm.  When he strokes my back, he finds out that I have no bra on.

“No bra?”

“Nope.”

“Why not?”

I have small tits so I never wear one. “No need.  Nothing to lift.  Nothing to cover.” 

Dale reaches under my shirt.  I let him.  I just sit there, waiting.  He strokes one tit and then the other.  He plays with my nipples.  I am so creeped out.  Inside I cringe but I allow the intrusion to continue.

“Well, they’re firm,” he says.  I sigh.  That’s the best he can do?  I let him grope me and it goes on for a long time.  Dale lifts my top and starts sucking my tits. 

“You’ve got the best nipples I’ve ever seen!”

“Thanks?”

“You have amazing tits!”

Now I know he’s bullshitting me.  I am ready to move back over when Dale unzips and takes his cock out of his pants.  I look at it.  It’s a little stubby thing that is struggling to become erect. 

Channeling my faux high school girl, I move away and yelp.

“What’s wrong?”

“I’ve never seen one before.”

He looks surprised.  Since I got to college, I have jacked off several guys and blown a couple.  There is really nothing else to do on weekends but drink and tease.  Here I have to play the penis virgin.  He takes my hand and puts it on his tiny cock.  I shrug.  I really don’t care.

“What do you want me to do?”  I say with a faux tremble in my voice.

“Just stroke it a little.”

“Do I have to?” with more tremble.

“Please?”

What the fuck.  It's only a little tiny cock.  I am beyond caring.  Apparently Dale doesn’t care that he is getting a hand-job from a supposed high school girl.  Now which is creepier, a forty-year-old man getting a hand-job from a high school girl or a college girl?  Trick question.  They are equally creepy. 

I pretend that it’s hard to catch my breath.  With shaking fingers, I reach over and start stroking it.  His belly starts to jiggle and I deepen my strokes.  This goes on forever.  Dale’s member finally starts to come to life eventually getting hard.  He reaches under my top and pinches my tits. 

Just as my arm starts to cramp, he grunts and finally comes.  I have cum all over my hand.  I fake cry and whimper.  Dale hands me a rag from the back seat and I wipe my hands.  I continue to whimper.

“Take me home,” I sob.

He zips up, starts the truck and we’re gone.  I continue to whimper until he drops me off.  After I enter my house, I literally skip to my room.  My mood has lifted, at least for the time being.  The whole evening was cringe-worthy but unforgettable.  I just jacked off an old guy.  Dale did love my tits. 

I can count on one finger the number of boys who have praised my chest.  I end up smiling in spite of myself.  During the night, Dale blows up my phone with messages but I never answer.  Never, that is, until I do.