Afternoon Delight - The Storyteller

I took her face in my hands and whispered, "Billie Jo Yasgur, on my grandmother's grave, I swear not to ever lie to you as long as I live. Everything I said about you was the gospel truth." I leaned down and placed a kiss on her forehead.

"Ray, will you..." she paused, and took a breath before finishing her question, "will you be my boyfriend? Even with a baby in me? Can you to do that?"

Inwardly I was cheering -- this woman I'd been secretly adoring had just asked me for my heart. I felt like I'd placed a long-shot bet on Joe Frazier in the Thriller in Manila fight last year and won big! Outwardly, I just smiled. "Billie Jo Yasgur," I said quietly, "nothing would make me happier than to be your boyfriend."

She put her arms around my chest and hugged me, then raised her heard and kissed me lightly on the lips. "Good. Let's not tell Mama just yet, OK? Only you, me, Sally and Gene will know, OK?"

I teased, "Are you going to tell Sally and Gene?"

She looked at me incredulously, "I don't need to tell them, silly! Me being with you was their idea!"

Three things happened at that moment. Mrs. Yasgur called out for us to come back to work, Billie Jo gave me a goodbye kiss and ran out the door, and most importantly, I got an inspiration for my next script. It would be a romance between a farmhand and farmer's daughter; the working title would be The Girl With The Goat.

* * * * *

August 1976

Our routine remained normal for the next week, until one day after a tough morning of fixing fence posts and tightening barbed wire. I came to the house for lunch as usual, but was so hot and tired I only had a couple of bites before going back to the shack to rest. I thought I'd have enough time to shower before Billie Jo came in, but I was wrong. As I stood with my eyes closed under the cool water, I felt a pair of hands rub soap on my chest.

I opened my eyes to see Billie Jo standing there, wearing only a smile. Standing up on tiptoe, she pulled my face to hers and kissed me. I pulled her to me, my growing hardness trapped between our torsos. As we kissed, I couldn't resist reaching down behind her and cupping her small butt cheeks. This was all a delightful surprise, as I'd only seen her in her overalls and checked shirt since I'd been working there.

I felt one of her hands slip between us and start soaping up my ball sack, then moved to my now rock-hard cock. "I didn't want you to forget you were my man, Ray," she whispered. I groaned with pleasure, and she increased the speed of her strokes. "You're still my boyfriend, right?"

I was rapidly approaching my climax already; it was amazing how turned-on this woman made me. "Yesssss," I groaned, overwhelmed with pleasure, "I love you Billie Jo. Only you."

She teasingly asked, "What about all of them pretty Mexican girls? You didn't love them?" The truth was, I'd gone out with a few of them, but contrary to how they dressed, none of the ones I'd gone out with were actually 'fast and loose'. Instead, they were very devout Catholics, with huge familias, basically pushing for marriage after the first date.

"No, baby. Only you, I swear, only -- AHHHHH!" I'd reached my release point, and shot several jets up between our bellies.

I pulled Billie Jo in for a long kiss, then reached for the washcloth and soaped it up. "Let me clean you up, sweetheart," I told her, then knelt in front of her as I washed her down. Her pale breasts were small, but with enlarged areolas and nipples from her pregnancy. I first washed them, then kissed them. I heard her take a sharp breath.

"That feels real good Ray," she told me, "I'm sorry my teats aren't big ones but they's getting bigger because of the baby."

As I washed her navel out, I said, "Your chest is the perfect size for me." Since it had been a while for me, I'd dumped a pretty big load, so had to do a thorough job of cleaning her up. I noticed the slight curve of her belly; I didn't know how many weeks along she was, but the baby was definitely showing. I murmured, "You were already pretty, but your pregnancy is just making you prettier, you know that?"

She knelt down so our faces were closer together, put her arms around my neck and kissed me a long time. When she finally pulled away, she whispered, "Ray Winslow, I love you so much. I know there's girls out there prettier and smarter than me without a baby in 'em who'd snap you up in a heartbeat. How can you promise you'll never leave me?"

I was in so deep emotionally with this girl, there was only one answer I could give: "Billie Jo Yasgur, I love you, heart and soul. I promise the only way you'll get rid of me is if you throw me out." The water was starting to get cold, so I stood and shut it off, then pulled her to her feet and told her, "We Winslow boys don't break promises."

From that day forward, my life was, for lack of a better word, inspired. I cheerfully worked harder, trying my best to get in Mrs. Yasgur's good graces in anticipation of the moment Billie Jo decided we could tell her mother we were together.

I was inspired to find only the best tales to regale my new girlfriend with during our afternoon story times. I started off relating summaries of Shakespeare comedies, like 'Much Ado About Nothing', and 'Two Gentlemen of Verona'. I avoided the heavier plays like 'Julius Caesar', 'Richard III', and 'Titus Andronicus'. I was worried all the violence and murder in them would give Bobbie Jo nightmares.

When I'd finished with the lighter works of the Bard, I switched over to telling Billie Jo synopses of some of my own scripts. There was 'The Roving Heart', where a man in an RV saves a boy in the rain, only to fall in love with the boy's mother; 'Heartache Road', where a man is divorced by his wife, only to take a road trip with his ex-wife's mother and end up marrying her; and one of Billie Jo's favorites scripts 'The Pinoy Dancers', about a young woman and her aunt who take dancing lessons at a Catskills resort and fall in love with two men who work there.

This is how the weeks flew by. Mornings and late afternoons, farm work; mid-day break, kisses and story time with Billie Jo; evenings after dinner, scriptwriting in my little shack.

And my writing was indeed inspired. I was determined that the script for The Girl With The Goat would be my defining work, my magnum opus, if you will. It was a romantic tale of a beautiful young girl who lived with her wise and widowed mother on a farm, tending to the family chickens and goats. When a new hired hand came to work on the farm, he secretly fell in love with her. There was an evil bad guy who threatened the farm, but it all worked out in the end when the admiring hired hand could no longer hide his love, and proposed. The words just flowed onto the paper, and in just a few days I'd finished and mailed it off to Artie.

I went to bed exhausted but happy every night, waking up refreshed and optimistic every morning. The only hang-up in my life was waiting for Billie Jo to tell her mother about us. As we moved through August towards September the weather was cooling. Our midday heat breaks would soon be unnecessary, taking away the rationale for my girlfriend and I to be together. As it turned out, it wasn't Billie Jo that broke the impasse, it was her mother.

One day after lunch, Mrs. Yasgur asked Billie Jo to drive into town and pick up some flour and sugar. As soon as she left, my boss turned to me. "Mr. Winslow, now that Billie Jo is out for a bit, you and I need to have us a talk. Have a seat."

I did as requested, and sat with my hands folded in front of me. The look on Mrs. Yasgur's face wasn't a happy one and it didn't take long for her to tell me why.

"Mr. Winslow, I have some concerns. I'm old, but my eyesight hasn't failed me yet. I see how you two act around each other. I see how you look at my daughter, and more concerningly, I see how she looks at you. I warned you when you started that she's young and a real sucker for flattering sweet talk. I asked you not to take advantage of her, and yet it appears you're on your way to doing just that. I know Billie Jo's been spending the mid-day breaks with you, and a few times I've listened outside the window. I think I know what goes on in there."

Oh, shit. Time to soft-pedal this. "It's true that Billie Jo has been spending time with me, Mrs. Yasgur, but what exactly is it you think we've been doing?"

"From what I overheard, you're filling her head with romantic stories. Since we don't have a television, I guess it's serving as entertainment for her, but that's not the issue. The issue is, you're filling her head with thoughts and feelings she just don't understand, which is what the last fella did, except he didn't take his sweet time like you're doing. He got in her pants as soon as he could, then deserted her right after. He hurt my baby girl, Mr. Winslow, and I'll be damned if I'll let you do the same."

Her expression softened somewhat. "You've been a good farm hand for me, I'll give you that, but I will not tolerate you taking advantage of my baby girl, do you understand?"

Now unburdened, Mrs. Yasgur sat back as if waiting for my response. I'd anticipated having this conversation at some point, so at least I wasn't totally unprepared.

"Mrs. Yasgur, I'm not Jason Flynn. The whole time I've been here, I've worked my ass off for you and treated you and Billie Jo with respect. Having said that, I'd be a liar not to admit that I find your daughter very attractive. She's sweet, and kind, and funny, on top of being just plain beautiful. Frankly, when she admitted that she cared for me too, I was over the moon about it." I paused for a minute. Although I was somewhat prepared, I had to measure my words carefully.

"As for my stories, what it all boils down to is, they just make Billie Jo happy. Your daughter may be a little undereducated, but I think you underestimate her. She's not as stupid or gullible as you make her out to be. We've all made mistakes in our youth; after what she's been through, she knows her feelings just fine. If my telling her stories makes her happy, I see this as a good thing." I took a deep breath, then hit her with my big finish. "Your daughter and I are both adults, and we love each other Mrs. Yasgur. I've promised her that I'll never lie to her, and I'm promising you that I'll never take advantage of her."

We stared at each other a bit, as if processing the conversation. Finally, Mrs. Yasgur angrily broke the silence. "You say you love Billie Jo, but I'm betting you don't know she's in a family way, do you? If you stay with her, you're not just saddled with her, but with Jason Flynn's bastard as well. Is that what you want, Raymond Winslow? To raise a kid that ain't even yours?" It was plain to see Billie Jo's mother was trying to test me, or shock me into breaking things off with Billie Jo, but it didn't work.

I couldn't help myself, I had to chuckle at Mrs. Yasgur's scare tactics. "I see this as no different than falling in love with a single mother, except in this case the child's just not born yet. Babies are innocent, Mrs. Yasgur. They can't help who made 'em, they just need to be loved and taken care of. I told you I love Billie Jo, and that baby's a part of her. I'd be a damned hypocrite if I said I loved her but didn't love her baby too."

It was hard to read Mrs. Yasgur's expression, but I really didn't care what she was thinking. I'd said my piece, and was done. I pushed back my chair and stood up. "If you'll excuse me, I have to go mend that fence down on the southwest corner of the onion field." Without waiting for her approval, I turned and left.

* * * * *

Summer was winding down, and we'd reached the point where I'd covered the Shakespeare plays and all my other scripts. During our mid-day break, Billie Jo and I would just lay on the bed to cuddle and listen to music on the transistor radio, and 1976 was certainly a great year for music.

The AM station my radio could pick up in Brownsville was KNVS, and it played an eclectic mix of country and pop songs: Dancing Queen by Abba, You'll Never Find by Lou Rawls, Good Hearted Woman byWaylon Jennings and & Willie Nelson, You're My Best Friend by Queen, Let Your Love Flow by the Bellamy Brothers, Johnny Cash's One Piece At A Time, You Should Be Dancing by the Bee Gees, it was all good music to kiss by, but Billie Jo's favorite was Afternoon Delight from The Starland Vocal Band. "This here's our song," she told me when it came on one time, "because I fell in love with you in the afternoons when you was telling me your stories."

That's when I decided it was the right time to finally lay out the The Girl With The Goat script for Billie Jo. This story, though, I wanted it to be something special. Really special.

I checked Mrs. Yasgur's copy of the Farmer's Almanac, and saw a week later it was going to be a full moon. On the day of the full moon, I told Billie Jo to sneak out of the house and meet me in the hayloft that night at 11pm. She'd once told me Mrs. Yasgur's bedtime was at 10pm sharp, like clockwork, so I figured an hour would give Billie Jo enough time to slip out undetected.

At 10:30, I went up to the hayloft, and brought my transistor radio with me. I opened up the hayloft door, and the moon was there shining brightly. Beautiful. I pulled up a haybale and waited, my heart pounding. At 10:45, I heard Billie Jo climb up the hayloft ladder. She sat next to me on the haybale and put her arms around my chest. "I'm sorry, Ray, I got excited and just couldn't wait no more!"

I wrapped my arms around her and said, "No apologies necessary, I'm glad you did. I'm excited too!" Then I kissed her, and I felt myself immediately get hard. After our interlude in the shower, my desire for Billie Jo had increased exponentially, but to honor Mrs. Yasgur's wishes I'd valiantly held off on going all the way with her daughter. Hopefully, in a few minutes it wouldn't be a problem any longer.

"The reason I asked you up here, sweetheart, is that I have one last story to tell you and I wanted to tell it to you in the perfect place." Then, with our arms around each other I proceeded to lay out the story of The Girl With The Goat. By the time I was done, tears were in her eyes.

She whispered, "Ray, that was me in the story, wasn't it?"

I laughed softly, "It most definitely was you, Billie Jo. You inspired that story."

"Will it be a movie?"

"Honestly, I don't know what will happen, but I already sent it off to my agent in Hollywood, so we'll see. What I do know is, it's the best script I ever wrote, and I wrote it because of you." I glanced at my watch. It was 11:05. I stood up and pulled her to her feet.

I told her, "There's something else." I turned on the transistor radio, and a song was just ending. I took her into my arms while a commercial played for a local car dealer, introducing the new 1977 Dodge Omni model.

Then the DJ said, "And now, a little something from King Harvest." The opening bars from the song Dancing In The Moonlight began to play, and I began to sway back and forth with Billie Jo. Her face looked wonderful, bathed in the moon's glow.

As we moved together, I kissed the side of her head, then bent my head down and whispered, "I love you so much, Billie Jo." As the song faded out, and I reached around and undid the clasp on the gold chain around my neck, surreptitiously removing my grandmother's engagement ring.

The DJs voice came back on: "That song went out to a good friend of KNVS, Ray Winslow. All of us here at the station want to wish the very best to him, and to his fiancée Billie Jo Yasgur."

A toothpaste commercial started playing while Billie Jo's eyes got wide as I knelt and held up my grandmother's ring. This was all by design, of course; the previous Saturday while running my usual weekly errands in Brownsville, I'd stopped by the KNVS radio station office and slipped the Program Director a $50 bill to have my special request broadcast tonight at 11:10pm.

"Billie Jo, I hope I wasn't putting the cart before the horse by announcing you were my fiancée, but will you marry me?"

* * * * *

Four minutes later we were in my bed, having quickly made our way from the hayloft to my shack in record time; our clothes had been hastily discarded, piled just inside the door.

Initially, we were necking like two teenagers, stopping only to draw a breath and proclaim our love for each other. Every so often, Billie Jo held up her hand and looked at the ring, still in a state of shock that I'd really asked, and she'd actually said 'yes'.

My dick was throbbing, desperately urging me to get to it, but I would not be rushed. I moved from her mouth to her nipples to the curve of her belly, then gently eased her thighs apart and began to kiss her warm folds, teasing her clit and vaginal entrance with my tongue. "I've wanted you all summer," I whispered in between kisses, "but I promised your mother I wouldn't take advantage of you. Tell me I'm not taking advantage of you, Billie Jo Yasgur."

"N-n-n-nooooo," she groaned, "I want you so bad, Ray! I know you'd never...ahhhhhhhhhh!" She groaned with pleasure as I moved up and slipped inside her.

As we began to move in unison, the distinctive opening bass line of Redbone's song Come and Get Your Love began playing, and I was amazed at how perfect the timing was. I'd waited all summer for this moment; I was in no hurry, so this song set a fantastic pace for me to make love with my new fiancée.

After a few minutes I felt her climax beneath me, but although every nerve in my body below the waist was screaming to join her, I somehow resisted and soon brought her to a second climax. Initially we had been quiet, but by this time our lovemaking had become quite verbal. Between our groans of pleasure and screaming declarations of love to each other, I'm sure we woke the chickens; I definitely heard a rooster crowing towards the end. I guessed either the sun was coming up, or the old guy was applauding my performance.

As we lay there covered in sweat, a cooling breeze began blowing through the shack's window screens. This was a moment in my life that if given a magic stopwatch that could freeze time, I would not hesitate to push the button. I deeply loved my now-fiancée, and through her had achieved an inner peace I'd only approached once before; since that was in Mexico and involved copious amounts of cerveza and a plate of amazing chile rellenos, it hardly counted. This, then, was truly the most perfect moment of my life.

Apparently, however, the chickens were not the only ones awakened by our passion. I heard the shack door open, and suddenly we were caught in the beam of a flashlight. Then Mrs. Yasgur's voice barked, "I warned you to keep your hands off my daughter, Winslow, but you're a typical man and didn't listen. You got 3 minutes to grab your shit and get off my farm before I go get my shotgun, you dirty sonofabitch!"

I held my hands towards Billie Jo's mother, uselessly trying to calm her, "Now Mrs. Yasgur, it's not what you think."

"SHUT UP, you lying bastard," she roared, then looked at Billie Jo, still naked but wrapped up in the thin bedsheet, "and as for you, I woulda thought you'd know better after that bastard Flynn got into your panties, did his business and run away. I swear, girl, those damned chickens you tend got more sense than you!"

I jumped up out of bed, and as I scrambled to pull on my jeans I called out "Billie Jo, quick, show her the ring! Show her the ring!"

The petrified Billie Jo held up her shaking left hand and showed her mother that my grandmother's wedding ring, which had been hanging on the chain around my neck, was now on her left hand. "He...he proposed, Momma! Ray's gonna marry me! He loves me and everything!"