Because of A Safety Pin

"Hey, Jimmy. How ya doin'?

"Uh. Ok."

"How's that thingy?"

My thingy is trying to burst out of my pants.

"Uh. Excuse me?"

"That radio thingy you were working on when I met you, silly."

I am glad the lights are low, although I'm sure she can see the multiple shades of red I have become.

"Oh. It's all restored and working great."

"Cool. I'll have to come see and listen to it."

"I'd be happy to show it to you sometime."

"Say. Wanna dance?"

Dance? Actually get up with that unicorn trying to poke out of my pants?

"Um. I'm not a very good dancer."

"So what? I'm not looking for Fred Astaire. Come on. It'll be fun."

There is no way I am going to embarrass myself showing the whole bar my bulge.

"Er. What about your boyfriend?"

"I don't have a boyfriend. Oh. Him? Bill is just a friend of a friend. So, are you going to dance with me or what?"

"Uh. Maybe later."

She looks a little disappointed when she gets up and rejoins her friends. I have to get out of there. I chug the rest of my beer and try to discreetly cover my raging hard on with my coat as I leave for the walk home. As soon as I leave Sasha's and am in the safety of the darkness, I can't help touching myself thinking about that touch on my shoulder. The smell of jasmine. Asking me to dance. That smile. That body! Can't make it home. It's a sticky end to that walk.

[Julia, my friend at work begged me go out Saturday night. She had a date with a guy she just met and as it was the first one, she wasn't sure she wanted to be alone with him. He brought along a friend who was basically a blind date for me. Nice enough man. Bill and I were getting along ok. No sparks like the ones I felt for Jimmy and the ones Julia had for Fred. I excused myself to the bathroom. When I came out, I saw Jimmy sitting alone. I went over to him and tried to get him to dance, but he just blew me off. I thought I felt attraction from him when I saw him in his garage. I guess I was mistaken.]

After I bought my house, I applied each raise The Port gave me and then some to my mortgage. My overriding goal was to own my house free and clear. I just made my last payment and decide to have a mortgage burning party. Yeah, next Saturday night should work. Ok, a party is usually defined as more than one. There are a couple of guys I met at Sasha's who hang out with each other and every so often let me in their circle. Mr. Burke and Janice might like to come too. I've kept up with them. Over the years, they both got divorced then married each other. When I call them, Mr. Burke tells me he and Janice would love to. When I call those two guys, they said they will too. Maybe I should invite Misty. Yeah, that'll be fun. I could show her my thingy. Yeah. Take that short little walk, three doors down, ring that doorbell and ask her. Ask her what? I better figure out what to say. Takes me most of Monday. Many times, I try to walk those few steps. Many times I head out. Many times, I turn around and sit in my chair and stare into space. Other times I visit my internet babes to attempt to relieve that throbbing that constantly occurs when anticipating seeing Misty in person.

[Wednesday, I got a call. My parents were going to see my grandparents that weekend. I love visiting them, so I said yes. I still thought Jimmy would take that hint and call on me but he hadn't.]

Finally, Thursday evening I get my courage up after I visit my internet babes a bunch of times and I walk the long distance to ask Misty to help me celebrate and ring the doorbell. The door opens and that jasmine aroma wafts out. Sproing! She is in a sexy skirt with a scoop neck pullover exposing the freckles on her chest. I should have visited with my internet babes more than I did. My pants are beginning to feel uncomfortable again.

"Hi Jimmy. Nice to see you. What's up?"

I stand there, frozen for a minute.

"I, er, uh, just paid off my mortgage and was wondering, you know, if, uh, um, you maybe might, you know, um, want to come over and, you know, like, uh, help me celebrate." I am shaking and having a hard time getting the words out that I had rehearsed so carefully. "S-Some other people are coming over and I-I could show you the radio thingy." I am gaining some confidence.

"How neat! Thanks for the invite and congratulations! Getting your house paid off must feel really good.

When is it?"

"It does feel really good. I'm having some people come over this Saturday."

She thinks for a long anguished minute, then sighs.

"Oh. I'm sorry. I am going out of town this weekend."

"'S ok. See ya later." I mumble as my chest falls and I turn around and walk those miles back to my house. She is probably going off on a romantic weekend with that guy I saw her with.

Friday afternoon comes. I get a call from Mr. Burke and Janice. Corporate mandated they go to a meeting out of town that weekend. Saturday afternoon comes. One of the guys calls and says they aren't able to show up. Something about a hot double date. Saturday night comes. I cook a steak on the charcoal grill and eat my salad. After I clean up dinner and pop open a bottle of that twenty dollar champagne, I pour two glasses of the bubbly. One for me and one for my dear old departed Mom. She would have been jealous but proud of me being able to own a house free and clear. Stoking the coals in the grill with some kindling, I lift my glass and feel the need to say a few words for the occasion. "Thank you, Mom. You raised your son so well. I wish you were here to bask in the joys of my steady job and this house that is now paid off. I love you, Mom. You were a good Mom and a good person." I raise my glass, throw the papers on the grill, chug the champagne, feeling the heat of the burning fire compliment the burn in my gullet as that bubbly liquid goes down. Feels so good. I finish off that champagne. I save the glass I poured for my Mom for last. Later that night I visit Ralph and make an offering to the porcelain gods. My head feels like Medusa when I wake up the next day. Except the snake's fangs are munching on my head.

[Monday, after visiting my grandparents, I found an empty seat in The Company's cafeteria. As I settled in my chair ready to eat my lunch, I looked across the table from me and saw the most handsome man smiling at me, sparking that warm and tingly feeling. Every day after, we sought each other out. Tomas asked me out that Saturday night, and I readily accepted. I didn't feel the need to have Julia tag along.]

I am depressed when I wake up. Misty had gone off with her new boyfriend. Just like that. How come I am never able to do that? Nobody showed up for my party except for my Mom's spirit. The dry mouth, the queasy belly, the army of construction workers firing nails into my skull. Still, thinking about Misty, her body, her voice, her scent works its wonders with my midsection. Another mess to clean up. Hmm. Wait a minute. She didn't act like she had a new boyfriend. As a matter of fact, she seemed kinda sad when she said she couldn't be there. Yeah! That's what it is! I eat something and am feeling much better. I don't know if I can muster the confidence to walk those miles to her house and talk to her out of the blue but she might be at Sasha's next Saturday night. Yeah! That's what I'll do. Spend all week with my internet babes. That should take care of that problem when I go up to ask her to dance. Yeah!

I sail through the week. Spend all morning and afternoon with my babes. In the evenings I tinker in my shop with my radios with the garage door open. It is a good week. One of the best bunch o' days I have had since meeting Misty. I am even thinking about that phone call to Ms. Spatel I am going to make telling her I was ready to go back to work. By Saturday, my plan is coming to fruition. I spend all day with my internet babes, but they raise nary a peep nor a twitch from me. I am ready!

Entering Sasha's, the bartender smiles at me and, once again, has my favorite beer waiting for me. I tip him a generous tip. Things are going my way. I can get used to this. I don't see Misty so I take my favorite spot to watch the band and dancers, looking around every minute or so. I'm starting my third beer when I see her walk in with a different guy. Maybe another friend of a friend? She doesn't see me yet. I wait for them to get settled, trying not to stare. After a little bit, it is time. Well, maybe the next song. My beer is empty. Not that song. It's not danceable. No, that one is too slow. Although I am confident in my preparedness, I don't want to push my luck with the closeness of a slow dance. Holding her body next to mine. The smell of jasmine. Her arms around my neck. Twing! Stop that. Oh. Wow, what a great keyboard solo. The singer's pretty good too. Yeah! Great harmonies. I applaud enthusiastically when that song is over. The next song has a good beat and you can dance to it. The dance floor is rapidly filling up. It is now or never.

I nervously walk over to their table. Their hands are touching and their eyes are locked, but I decide to not let that deter me. Things are going my way.

"Hi Misty."

She jumps a little bit. The smell of jasmine hits me. Peep.

"Oh. Hi Jimmy."

She is still for a moment. I stand there with my confidence ebbing fast.

"Where are my manners? This is Tomas. Tomas, this is Jimmy, the guy I told you about."

"Hi Tomas."

"Howdy, Jimmy. What's happening?"

We shake hands.

"Uh. Um. So Misty. Um. Would you like to dance?"

Misty looks at Tomas. He nods his head.

"Sure, ok."

Her hands, once again, feel so soft and delicate as we twirl around the dance floor. Well, she twirls, I do what could best be described as an awkward stumble, but I am having fun. The occasional waft of jasmine. Twang. She is smiling at me! Ooh! I feel so good. Hold on here. She is not smiling at me. She is looking at Tomas every chance she gets. The song ends.

"Thanks. That was fun."

She gives me a peck on the cheek as I escort her back to her table. A slow song starts.

"Come on Tomas. Let's dance."

I shrink to the size of a bar napkin that's blown off the table and stepped on as I watch them walk arm in arm and dance a slow seductive embrace, kissing. Deep kissing. Not a peck on the cheek. It should have been me with that fine chick. All the wind goes out of my sails. I leave Sasha's and take that slow, slow, slow walk home through those doldrums. At least I didn't embarrass myself during that dance. Oh. That smell of jasmine. I get a twinge and when I get home I indulge in that twinge. Goes nowhere. Try my internet babes. Goes nowhere. End up soaking my pillow with my tears.

Sunday, I am thinking I have to try to win her back. She gave me signals that she liked me. At least I felt she did. Maybe if I go over to her house sometime next week after she gets home from work, I could talk to her and then maybe it will be me with that fine chick. It is Wednesday, before I get the courage to traverse the miles and miles to where she lives. Of course, I visit my internet babes to put a damper on my throbbing. As I walk closer to her house, I notice it is dark. I feel foolish. She must be out. I can't just turn around. I keep on walking. I decide to take a shortcut through the alley to hurry on home. As I walk past where she lives, I notice the light on. Walking by in my funk, out of the corner of my eye I see movement in her window. What's this? I find a spot that seems to be hidden. Yes! I see her! She is wearing a lace camisole, panties and not much else. Sproing! All I can do is stand there with my mouth gaping, the unicorn tenting, looking at her beautiful body.. I can't help myself and start rubbing the front of my pants, breathing heavily. When she seductively touches her breast, I lose it. Feeling guilty, I walk kind of funny on the way home with that sticky mess screaming at me with every step.

The next couple of weeks are murder. I can think of nothing else but that night. How awful I felt looking in that window. That sticky walk home. I am not going to do that again. Not me! That camisole. Those panties. The touch to the breast. Sproing! Nobody can see me. What's the harm in a little lookie-loo? Multiple times I start to go out for a 'walk' but stop before I get to the door. My internet babes and my credit card company really appreciate me these couple of weeks. It is late on Friday night when I decide to go to Sasha's. I need to get out of the house. Normally, when I walk to Sasha's, I turn right, go past the Graber's (Misty's) and continue on for about four blocks where that bar is located. Tonight, I can't help it, My feet drive me to the left. Up the street. Down the alley. Misty's alley. I am in a nervous daze. Just a harmless walk down a dark alley. That's all this is. I keep looking around to see if anybody is watching me. Not a soul in sight. I get to Misty's house. Through the window, the lights are on low. She is sitting on the couch talking to Tomas in a sexy dress. Lucky bastard. I kneel in that spot I was earlier. Misty gets up and puts out her hand. Tomas takes it as he gets up. They start dancing. Slow dancing. Slow, close dancing. Kissing. I am transfixed. Frozen in place. Can't move. My cock is moving though. Achingly so. I look around and listen intently. Nobody. Just the hum of the city. I slip my zipper down ever so quietly to relieve some of the pressure. Tomas's hands are caressing her ass and her back, pulling her closer. She is doing the same to him. One of his hands moves to her breast. Her hand moves to his chest. I pull my throbbing muscle out and start stroking, breathing heavily. Grunting. They are still kissing. Simultaneously, their hands move down. Down. Down to the other's secret garden. Together they start exploring the nether regions. Misty unbuckles his belt. When she zips that zipper, I can't take anymore.

"Police! Freeze! Hands above your head!"

A bright light hits my eyes as I am spurting. Flashbulbs are going off. I get pushed down onto that white sticky puddle I'm creating as the last of my spurts are ejecting. They handcuff me and lead me off. I look back at the house as they are hauling me away and I see Misty's eyes on me. I think of that picture of Katherine disintegrating after that unfortunate incident. They book me on lewd and lascivious behavior, and indecent exposure. I stay in jail the whole weekend. Monday afternoon I am able to make bail and go home. There is a For Rent sign in front of the Graber's house. It looks empty. In my day in court, I plead no contest. They slap a fine on me and order me to register as a sex offender. Order me into group therapy, also. The authorities come with a search warrant, confiscate my computer, and imbed a program that sends a daily report to my therapy counselor just in case I have any ideas about visiting my internet babes. They also make a mess of my house. I guess they are searching for child pornography or something. Everywhere I go I am met with down turned eyes. Nobody looks at me. I'm hearing whispers as they hold their hands over their mouths as they speak. Pointing at me. I can hear some of the words. 'That's him.' 'Sicko.' 'Pervert.' 'Whacko.' 'Ewww.' Mothers with their children give me a wide berth. One night I hear a commotion outside. Sounds like some drunks. As soon as I look out the window to see what is happening, an egg cracks on the glass right in front of my nose. Then, three others hit the glass. The whites and the yolks combine and flow down slowly as it reminds me of the turn of events.

I stay in my house for weeks only going out when I absolutely need to. I keep that garage door tightly closed when I work on my radios. Ignoring any knocks. 'Go away. Nobody home.' I mutter silently. The letter comes from The Port informing me of my termination. Something about the Christian morals policy on page twenty-three of the employee handbook.

After about a month and a half of locking myself up under self imposed house arrest, I am going stir crazy. I have to get out of the house. Saturday evening comes and after I eat supper, I decide to go to Sasha's. I stand at the bar for a long time before I am able to get a beer. Gives me a wrong one first. I finally get the brand I want. My favorite spot is taken so I stand in the corner and watch the band, ignoring the dancers. Hearing a loud multi-voiced guffaw, I look over and Bill is pointing at me and laughing with his friends. I ignore the taunts as I finish my beer and walk out the door.

"Hey pervie wervie. Got a safety pin? Hey! I'm talking to you, you weirdo."

I turn around. Bill has followed me outside. He is laughing as he says something else. I can't understand what he is saying. Something like 'mmmyyyooouuu mmmwwwaaarrr wwaaa wwwrrrreeeaalll'. My frustration and depression over how my life has changed, coupled with Bill's taunting has flipped a switch. My autopilot takes over. He stops speaking when the first of my fists makes contact. I need to stop the nightmare that is happening to me! Fist after fist pummels him. I need to stop the pain! Pound, punch, pound! I need to stop the taunting! Punch, pound, kick! I need to stop the hate! Kick, pound, kick. I feel something on the back of my head.

Opening my eyes, I realize I am in a hospital with a screeching dull ache throbbing in my head. I go to touch it and find I am strapped to the bed. A nurse comes in to check my vitals. I ask her what happened to me. She tells me the Doctor will see me shortly. Five hours later the Doctor comes in and tells me I was hit with a board that caused a concussion and will have to undergo tests. Thirteen days pass till I am released from the hospital. Still have a bandage on my head when I get transferred to a cell booked on attempted murder. Still don't know who smacked me on the head. The Doctor says all the tests were negative and it appears that all my brain functions are normal. I finally make bail and am able to go home again to await my court date.

The legal process takes a long time. First the preliminary hearings. Then the motions. More motions and hearings. The jury selection. Sometimes one does not want to take advantage of a speedy trial guaranteed by the Sixth Amendment. My public defender doesn't, so it is months after wailing on Bill before I am scheduled to go to trial. During these months, I sneak over to the adult bookstore. I haven't gotten my jolly's off for a long time. Every time I used to enter such a place devoted to sex, my cock began to get hard as soon as I walked in the door. I would engage in all sorts of fantasies with the images, suggestive words, and products displayed then purchase what I liked the most. This time, as I flip through some magazines, I come to the realization that I am not getting a tweet, twinge, twang nor peep from that material. Nothing. I buy some essential oil of jasmine. I have the clerk wrap it up and don't open it up till I get home remembering the effect it has on me. I can't smell it. I tell my lawyer about this strange development. She has me see a psychiatrist. I am asked a lot of questions and shown a lot of pictures and videos with wires attached to my head. I have not been informed of the results yet.

My trial starts tomorrow.