TraneStation

Mary, the Storyteller by J.D. Coltrane

Mary Ardivino is one of the true storytellers who frequent the Trane Station. Sure, there are many of them, Trane Station storytellers, but Mary stands out in many ways.

Ms. Ardivino is of pure, classic Italian heritage. Her olive skin, dark hair and eyes, match her quick temper and wit. Passion and emotion could both serve as Mary’s middle name. Physically she’s quite striking. Her tall stature, full breasts and hour-glass figure has turned more than a few heads in the Trane Station. She ended up in Memphis but originated in Long Island, Billy Joel’s hometown, she’s told me more than once. She did her graduate work in psychology at Illinois State and followed one of her professors to Tennessee to work for the state in Mental Health administration. Indeed, Mary is a bright woman, a bright, very sexually uninhibited woman.

She also holds a peculiar distinction in my book. Mary has pubic hair with the consistency of a Brillo pad. I’ve never known a woman with pubic hair as course and stiff as Mary’s. After a couple of months of an active sex life with Mary I considered growing a beard out of self-defense. At least with a beard, I reasoned, I could keep the skin from being scoured from my face. Oral sex with Mary was like submitting my face to a wiggling, grinding paint removal machine. But before I could decide on facial hair our relationship ran its course and we both moved on. My face still thanks me when I look in the mirror.

I was remembering all this as I listened to Mary telling one of her stories. I had asked her how her night had gone with Jason, the guy I had watched her take her panties off for in my bar, the guy who had tried to be cool with his hand between legs in the corner booth.

She and I sat alone in the Trane Station, the night’s business ended, the doors locked, the staff and kitchen crew gone. It was just me and Mary and a bottle of Jameson’s. Mary might be pure Italian but she nonetheless enjoyed good Irish whiskey.

“So,” she continued, “I took his hand and led him onto the campus. Rhodes College is such a beautiful campus, Trane, really it is. All the Arkansas stone used in all the buildings is from the same quarry, did you know that? Beautiful stone. Anyway, I led him on campus with a blanket and a picnic basket. God, was it dark. No moon, no stars, just a perfectly quiet and still summer night.

“He was a little uncomfortable,” she said, “I could tell. He kept looking around like security was going to jump on us or something, but I knew that classes were out for reading week, everyone was gone. I’ve been slipping onto Rhodes’ campus for years just to lie in the grass and drink a little wine, usually with someone special.” She paused for effect and sipped at her whiskey letting me take in the twinkle and laughter in her eyes.

“So, I led him to my favorite spot and spread out the blanket while he asked me again what would happen if we got caught or something. He shut up,” she giggled, “When I started to pull off my clothes. You should have seen him, Trane, he was just staring at me, watching my every move. I pulled my tank-top up and over my head, slowing down some so he could get a good look at my tits. These are nice tits, aren’t they, Trane?”

I just smiled and shook my head, yes.

“Of course you know they are,” she smiled back knowingly before continuing, “Anyway, when I dropped my skirt and let him see I had nothing underneath I thought he was gonna start doing jumping-jacks. I didn’t have to offer him any invitations then, he just started throwing his clothes off in any direction that his hand took them. Hell, he was naked in no time with his cock bobbing in front of him like a small palsied dinosaur.“

She paused to laugh and let the image sink in. I silently applauded her stage craft and poured her two fresh fingers of whiskey.

“When I reached in the picnic basket and pulled out the bottle of wine, I thought his jaw would hit the fucking ground,” she went on. “He really looked confused when I handed him the cork screw and asked him to open the bottle. I couldn’t help it, Trane, I started laughing just looking at him standing there naked with a jerky cock, pre-cum hanging off the tip, hunching over the bottle of wine, trying as best he could to get the damn cork out and get on with whatever was going to happen. He was concentrating so hard that he didn’t see me ease over in front of him and start to lick on that dripping spastic cock. And you know what?” she laughed, “The son-of-a-bitch dropped the bottle of wine on my head and damned near knocked me out!”

We were both laughing, Mary nearly in tears.

“I don’t know how many times he said he was sorry,” she continued in spurts. “I finally got him to shut-up by putting his cock back in my mouth. Boy, did that shut him up quick.”

I watched Mary closely, knowing she was getting into the story now, enjoying the telling, the re-living.

“I knew I had to fuck him fast, Trane,” she went on, “Or he’d blow his cork, not the wine, of course, and I’d be spending the next couple of hours trying to get him up again. Anyway, I turned him loose and just plopped back on the blanket. I hadn’t hardly got my legs spread when he was on me like a dog in heat. That’s okay, I told myself, this might be good if I can hurry. So, he’s bumbling around trying to get inside me. I let him flounder for a few seconds just so he can see how ineffective he’s being, then I reach down, position him, and get ready. Sure enough, he starts thrusting like there’ll never be another chance in his life. That’s when it happen.”

She stopped and almost rolled out of her chair in laughter.

“What?” I finally asked her.

“The fucking sprinkler system came on,” she laughed. “We were lying right in the middle of some flowers and shrubs and the fucking sprinkler system starts spraying us with cold water. You should have heard him shriek. I thought the goddamn Devil’s brother had suddenly jumped up on me. And,” she gasped for some air before going on, “that bobbing, jerky cock, remember that? Well, that disappeared instantly and was replaced by the limpest piece of linguini you could ever imagine. Hell, Trane, he jumped off me so fast I got a face full of water. I thought I was gonna drown right there naked on the Rhodes College lawn.”

We were both leaning forward, trying hard to stop laughing but both of us knew it would have to pass on its own.

“Trane,” she said, wiping tears from her face with a paper napkin, “I don’t think Jason likes me much anymore.”

”I don’t know, Mary,” I told her, “Maybe he’ll call you. Maybe he might decide to get into water sports.”

We both laughed again at Jason’s expense.

“So,” she grinned, “What’s been up with you lately?”

I just smiled, enjoying her company and the moment. “I don’t know, Mary,” I told her, “Not much, I guess.”

I poured us both more whiskey and watched Mary wiggle in her chair. I caught myself wondering if Mary’s pubic hair wore holes in her clothes. And I had to laugh.