Another true story from the year 2000. I’m still baffled by this one. I just don’t understand what the hell was going on.
In the year 2000, I lived in Bellingham but was commuting with my little VW Fox to Seattle every day for a new job. It was a lot of driving, but I liked it. Then a 16 year old girl t-boned me at a crossroads and totaled my little car. The car got almost 40 mpg and I’d bought it for $400. Mathilda, the insurance adjuster who came to see the car was one of the hottest women I’d ever met.
I was pretty bummed when she told me the car was totaled and I would be getting $400. I said no big deal but I was disappointed. She asked if I had any further questions and I said just one figuring I”d already lost my great commuting car and would need to move to Seattle. I asked her if she wanted to have a drink with me.
She paused. “I’ m not supposed to,” she said.
“Why not?” I asked.
She said, “That’s just what they say.”
“We’ll talk about accidents,” I said.
“Okay,” she said. “Call me in a few days.”
We got off the phone and I literally jumped up and down for joy that this beautiful woman was even willing to agree to have a drink with me.
“Hey, Mathilda, this is Chris the VW guy.”
“Oh, hey, I was just thinking about you.” Was it just me or did she sound like she was naked? It was nothing in her voice, I just pictured her naked..thinking about me!
“Really? What are you doing?” Here it came…I knew she was going to tell me she was in the bath or eating a bananna.
“Trying to get my valves adjusted right. I can’t seem to get them to stop clanking. I’ve got oil all over me.” Okay, so this was okay, she was thinking of me as she lay on the ground covered in oil…that was sort of sexy…I mean, maybe it was her way of telling me something.
“Wow, you’ve got to make sure the feeler gauge is going all the way in the slot. Wiggle it around in there. You have to penetrate all the way and fill the gap completely. You want it tight, but not too tight!” I could play this game too, I was good at this.
“Hey, what are you wearing?” She asked me and guffawed loudly. “Do you come here often?” She completely ruined it. Still, it was funny.
I laughed ” Hey, that was fun, why’d you ruin it? Do you want to get that drink?”
“Shit. My roommate is moving so me and my other roommate have to move too since she’s the one who rented the house. We’re packing up everything today. I should really be doing that now….”
Here was where she blew me off..I knew it was too good to be true.
“What do you think about tomorrow night? You can come out with me and my roommates. They’re hot, you just can’t touch em, okay?” It was better than rejection.
“Hmm, tomorrow, let me look at my calendar.” Like I had a calendar. I didn’t even know what the date was. “Yeah, it looks like I can shift this around a bit…yeah, that sounds great. What time?”
“Come to my house about six. We’ll start drinking there.” She gave me quick directions to her place. “See you then.”
“Right on Mathilda. Good luck with the lube job, I mean valves.” What a dork I am.
I was excited, she’d probably laugh when she found out I was living in my bus.
When I got there, she had modified plans a little. Her friend from Colorado was in town so we were going to go meet him at the Triangle Bar in Fremont.
I drove my new car, a Subaru wagon, to her house, where I met her two roommates. Both were hotties but the one who was moving out, Agnes, looked like a meth head chick. She had that high-strung, strung out, white trash way about her. Gertie, the roommate who was getting a new place with Mathilda was a princess in a white angora sweater. Gertie was coming with us too. I wasn’t too upset about that. Mathilda was absolutely stunning decked out in fashionable Seattle hippie girl attire. Sexy sexy sexy sexy…probably way to sexy for me. But maybe not…
We got to the Triangle and met up with Mathilda’s friend, John. As a result of his drunkenness, I got to spend all the time we were in the bar getting to know Gertie instead of Mathilda while she nursed John. John and his friend needed a place to crash. John especially, and being a good friend, Mathilda suggested they crash at her pad. We piled into her car and went back to the girl’s place. On the trip I learned more about Mathilda than I’d ever thought possible because of John’s drunken commentary on her past loves, lovers, and exploits.
She was easily the hottest woman everywhere we went, with Gertie coming in a close second. It occurred to me again that she might be out of my league what with her good looks, good job, and obviously full social life. It occurred to me over and over and over.
At her house, we drank beer and red wine. Somebody brought up fucked up childhoods. John, I think it was.
“I remember when my dad used to molest me,” Mathilda started. “Can you believe that I loved it. I mean, I didn’t know not to. He was so gentle and loving, you know? I thought that was what all little girls and their Dad’s did. I cried and cried when they took him away.”
Mathilda had no problems talking about being molested or raped as a young girl. She was almost light about it.
“My fucking Grandpa on the other hand. That fucker used to love raping me. He would try to hurt me. He wasn’t able to get off unless I was crying.”
Nobody else seemed shocked at her candor. I was totally creeped out. I just wanted to leave.
“What about you?” she asked. “Got any fucked up childhood stories?”
On the one hand, I did have and it would have been easy to talk about it. But on the other hand, I no longer wanted to be there. And, I was even more disturbed because I was turned on. I mean, here is this incredibly sexy chick talking about getting fucked. She’s talking about it in detail, like, “ I used to love sucking Daddy’s dick. It was my favorite lollypop” and “I had to pretend I didn’t like it when Grandpa ass fucked me.” I mean these are disturbing fucking stories, but I felt my dick getting hard as she said it. I wanted to fuck this chick even though she was totally fucked up and at the same time, I wanted to get as far from her as possible.
So when she asked me to tell her a story, I just made an excuse about how normal my childhood had been. She pressed and I said that I had lost my father – we went to the park and I never saw him again. It was a lie, but I meant it to be funny and ended with “I always pictured him somewhere with amnesia.”
“I bet that’s his girlfriend’s name,” she laughed. I laughed too. Had she been lying about all that shit? I have no idea.
John passed out on Mathilda’s bed (of course) and his buddy left with some friends who arrived to take him back to the bar. Gertie went to bed and Mathilda sat up talking with me. Finally, I kissed her and to my surprise she kissed me back. When I put my hand on her breast she pushed it off and pointed to the bedroom door while shaking her head. “John’s in there?”
“Is he your boyfriend?”
“No, but he’s in my bed.”
She said I could crash on the couch but I felt sort of like I had been raped and molested. I left. “Give me a call,” I said.
I should have offered her a lollypop. She never called me – and that was that.
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