Wednesday, June 22, 2011

Summer 1990 - Fried Chicken

I am old. My interns are less than half my age and it doesn't seem like 20 years since my extended summer between my freshman year at Northeastern and my sophomore year at Rutgers.  A friend of mine got me a job at a local ambulance company and by early summer I started taking  shifts on a neo-natal transport unit to make some extra coin.  My job was to drive nurses, doctors, ... in this massive ambulance from Newark Beth Israel hospital to small hospitals in Jersey to pick up premature and sick babies and bring them back for treatment.  We saw a lot of tiny babies and some super deformed ones where the mom thought it was a good idea to drink Drano as a way of aborting her baby, only to produce an infant with an arm growing out its chest and encephalitis.

At 17 I was young, naive and had absolutely no game, completely ripe to be screwed with by my co-workers.  And screw with me they did.  At the hospital the neonatal unit admin on the weekends was this massively fat black women who I would hang with while waiting on the transport crew who would often take an hour or two to get ready.  She was loud and funny, a 70's TV cross between Shirley from What's Happening and Nell Carter.  She would always greet me with a big hug and I'm pretty sure spent her evenings at home scheming on ways to make me squirm in her presence.  

So one hot evening I am waiting for the transport team and her boyfriend shows up with a fried chicken dinner from down the street.  One of the beauties of Newark is that there is a pretty good chance that fried chicken place is named after a dead president or US state.  Go ahead, on your next family vacation through the Garden State check it out.  Her boyfriend was thin and quiet, the perfect counterpoint in their relationship.  As they dive into their chickens and biscuits she says to me, "This is some good chicken Christopher, so so good."  Of course this is really just a lead in, she's totally setting me up.

"It looks really good.  I'll probably have some later."

"You know what women love after they eat fried chicken?"  She looks over to her boyfriend smiling back at her.

My eyes are rapidly moving between the two of them.  "Hmmm... no."

"Baby, women love to have their pussy licked.  On a hot summer night like this, after some dinner, there's nothin' better than a hot tongue on my hot pussy."

Now I'm avoiding eye contact completely.  Where's the door?  Where's the team?  Isn't it time to go? 

"Yeah, my baby loves me to take care of her."  The boyfriend is now joining in on the fun.  "I can't wait until we get home tonight.  You want to join us after you get back with the baby?" 

Jackpot!  My teenage fantasies would finally become realized.  Some boys fantasize about the cheerleader, the lab partner, hell even the young hot teacher.  No, my fantasy is being invited for a threesome after some tasty chicken.

She started fanning herself with a piece of paper in one hand while still working on a half-eaten leg in the other.  Clearly their fun with me is done for the night as they both burst out laughing.  She rolls her chair over towards me, hugging me and proclaiming, "we're just fucking with you."

Hot nights in Newark.  What a wonderful woman. 

- Posted using BlogPress from my iPad

Location: Newark, NJ

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