Mad Max

 

I dreamed Sharon and I were living in Paradise again, and she wasn't disabled. Far from it, actually, and she was up to her old tricks. She had a wandering eye (and two wandering legs, apparently). She was scheming about a threesome, a fantasy she kept trying to persuade me to help her fulfill. This time, instead of fighting it, I went along with the idea, at least in principle. 

We decided on a candidate, someone of her choosing. He was a CBer named Mad Max, a big strapping diesel mechanic with a gruff demeanor over the radio but a puppy dog in person. With his bib overalls and gingham shirt, he reminded me of a cross between Forrest Gump and the Andre the Giant. I liked him, but not in "that" way. Sharon liked him and figured he'd fit the bill. 

We met with him in the parking lot of Ray's Liquor, and Sharon propositioned him. His eyes lit up, and a big Cookie Monster grin spread across his kind but oafish face.

"I'm in!" he said excitedly. "When do we begin?' He was even rhyming like the ogre-like character in The Princess Bride.

"Hold on, Tiger," I told him. "Let's go back to the house first. We have to establish some ground rules."

We all took separate cars back to our place, but when we arrived, Max had brought along a friend. It was an older gentleman from his church named Glen, who reminded me of Ed Begley, Jr.

I didn't like how the math was adding up, so I lingered outside for a moment as Sharon and Max went inside. Glen got cold feet and left before any of the action, and I was left outside with my lower lip quivering in an expression Sharon and I referred to as "The Bear." 

"Not The Bear!" she said, feigning incredulity. "Don't worry, Sweetie, there's enough of me to go around."

Sharon had picked up on my petulance and come out to ask if I was still OK with everything. I told her that I was, and that she and Max should get started, and I'd join them in a minute. She didn't need too much persuading, and she was back in the house and unclothed in under a minute. 

Whatever she and Mad Max did, it didn't take more than a minute, and soon he emerged, fully clothed, and drove off. I did likewise, and as I drove around Paradise in my white Honda Accord listening to the CB radio, a faint voice came through the static:

"Do you know what the problem was?" the voice inquired.

I couldn't place the voice right away, but as I kept driving, it became clear to me.

"Do you know what the problem was, Andrew?" the voice repeated, calling me by name.

It was Sharon, of course. I drove back in the direction of home, and picked up the handset to reply:

"No, what?" I asked.

"He was a church boy. A Seventh Day Adventist. And it's Saturday, so he couldn't do anything." 

Sharon always did have a distaste for SDAs, simply because their religious services always interfered with her fun.

By now, I was already parked outside the house, and I went in to find a still naked Sharon sitting on the couch. I dispensed with the CB mic, which I was still talking into even though we were face to face.

"You'd think that Saturday would be his happy day, though, right?" I said, applying my own logic to the situation.

"That's not how it works with those guys," she said. "His buddy Glen was a perfect example."

"I didn't know how that was going to work in the first place," I told her. "The gears didn't seem like they were going to mesh." 

She and I had never discussed any of my leanings or proclivities, and now didn't seem to be the time to bring them up. Still a bit jealous and insecure about her and Mad Max's brief encounter, I reached around and felt her backside. It was a bit clammy, but it gave me reassurance that no hanky-panky had taken place.

"Just checkin'," I grinned. 

"I guess it's just you and me," she smiled back as the curtain closed on the dream.

----

It's been nearly month since I've had dreams of any sort. I suppose it's not odd that I should have a dream like this now, since I've recently been sleeping on our old bed. After many months of sleeping on the downstairs couch, my back finally began to protest, and I reluctantly brought myself back to the scene of so many memories, some happy, some not so happy.

It's Saturday, so I'm going to get my own religious ritual going. If you aren't already familiar with what that is, don't ask, because I won't tell. It's for Super Secret Squirrel's Club members only.