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                                 Casual/southpea
                                  Celestine Henley
                                   Southern Peach
                      The day was hot and humid like any others in the South, where
                  the air was so infested with odors and sweat you actually had to
                 swim through it.  And clothes, heck, it was minimal while it clung
                to you like a wet towel.  It was 101 degrees with a humidity of 100
                  per cent, or at least, that was what it felt like.  I was being
                     boiled right on my seat in this supposedly air conditioned
                   hamburger joint that was called, "Art's Burgers"--the sign was
                             vandalized and now said, "Art's Bugers."  
                      I had been invited by my friend Chris to visit his folks and
                see the South, which he promised would be "a whole boot'n fun."  So
                   far, all there had been was a soak-fest, a slimy burger that I
                               thought moved, and supreme boredom.  
                                    I asked myself, "Why am I here?"
                                    I answered, "Waiting for Chris."
                       "Okay, but why did decided to come to Georgia in the first
                                              place?"
                                         "Because Chris asked."
                                     "Okay, but why is Chris late?"
                      "I don't know, maybe he got hit by a Confederate soldier and
                       got mowed down.  Just shut up and enjoy your burger."
                       So I shut up and tried my best to enjoy the greasy burger. 
                  When I say greasy, I mean, oil was dripping out of the burger. 
                    Better yet, the grease looked like 10W/40 after 3000 miles. 
                 Finally disgusted with the foul taste, I spate out the single bite
                I took out of the most disgusting food that I had ever attempted to
                   eat.  Instead, I quaffed down the flat Coke.  Here I was in a
                  little itty-bitty town called Sunrise(or something like that) in
                the middle of nowhere, past trying to finish Art's Buger, and horny
                 as hell.  The latter was noted with distinction.   I think it was
                                             the heat.
                        I looked out.  Chris was not there yet.  For that matter,
                   there was nobody outside...just a two dogs biting each others'
                  heads off and making a racket.  So I examined the insides of the
                 modest resort called "Art's Bugers."  It was red.  I mean, CHERRY
                 RED; it was decked out in the fifties motif, with the jukebox and
                  the checkered floor.  If it got any more sickening cliche, I was
                probably living in a cartoon.  And judging by the good taste of the
                     populace, I was the only customer at 1:13PM.  Precisely.  
                       There was Art, a frail looking chef with grey stubble and a
                  unlit cigarette hanging from the corner of his mouth.  There was
                 the was sweet looking Mrs. Art Bugers, who had so kindly served me
                 earlier the black plague, and there was J'Belle, their daughter. 
                 And she was looking mighty fine to me at that moment, hungry as I
                                                was.
                       She was at most sixteen and her short body was a bountiful
                      harvest.  As a southern adage usually interjected at any
                 conversation regarding the weaker sex, made up instantly by such a
                southern gentleman with that funny drawl, "I'd reckon she's shapely
                 lahhhhhk a gip cow on moonshine."  Whatever it meant, I wanted to
                   say that she was contoured like the Alps from head to toe; her
                 sunny hair was tied behind in a tail; she wore a sunny smile that
                  said everything in the world and her blue eyes, or as the accent
                goes, "aaahhhs," were adorable.  I wanted to eat her for breakfast,
                     lunch, dinner, and then some.  Finally, I made up my mind.
                      I beckoned J'Belle over and asked for some more Coke.  As she
                was reaching for my glass, I pulled her close and said.  "Dear, I'm
                 absolutely in love with you, you gorgeous little thing.  How about
                a kiss?"  I then patted her rump with a teasing pinch.  She blushed
                 bright red, frozen for the moment, standing there not sure of what
                  to say or do.  I was sure every sane guy passing this young minx
                 passed off a pass like the one I made to this absolutely yummy dim
                 sum, but I was sure never by a woman.  I sat there smiling my most
                         sincere smile, licking my lips in anticipation.  
                      Now, I'm no dyke.  But I do enjoy the company of little girls
                  and genteel women.  As well, I've always wanted to say something
                  like that in front of a total stranger.  And like I said, I was
                  hornier than a toad in spring.  (Whatever that means.)  The heat
                                         does that to you.

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                       J'Belle closed her eyes and turned her back with my cup and
                  headed for the counter.  She told her mother my order and headed
                    for the Women's Bathroom(or the Water Closet as they say in
                   England).  I smiled.  All the better!  I followed her into the
                                              Women's.
                       As I entered the dirty little back-room, complete with the
                smell of Lysol and crust on the ceiling, J'Belle was leaning on the
                 single white sink in the room.  She jumped when she saw me enter. 
                 Her eyes widened.  But she remained silent.  I walked slowly up to
                     her so as not to scare her off and put my hands around her
                 enviously slim waist.  Drawing her close, I smelled the fries she
                 was making, but that scarcely discouraged my game.  I had to pull
                  her up slightly, but I did manage to seal our lips with a soft,
                 tender kiss.  Her first resistance melted away and was replaced a
                  curious anticipation.  I was lost in J'Bell's pair of lush, full
                 lips.  They were so juicy and tasty.  I could have kissed her for
                 hours!  I wanted to eat her whole, starting with those strawberry
                              lips.  But I had other plans in mind.  
                        J'Belle was lost in her own dream world as I said to her,
                  "J'Belle dear, why don't you take a seat in this nice stall over
                                               here."
                      She nodded dumbly and sat.  I closed the stall door.  Though
                it was a tight fit, I could still manoeuvre around.  "Now, J'Belle. 
                   I want you to close your eyes and relax.  That's right, dear."
                       My hands flew over her body and ruffled through her frilly
                  uniform, feeling her soft curves.  She was no Plainsman, rather,
                  more a Rockies person.  Her cute floral underwear was what I was
                after.  I stripped it off carefully and was rewarded with a muffled
                gasp that she quickly silence with a swallow.  In a couple minutes,
                                I had her hiccupping with pleasure.
                      I would like to believe that we both left the bathroom wiser
                 and more content.  Actually, more like she became a bit more wiser
                 and I, a bit more content.  But it amounted to the same thing, did
                                              it not?
                      I went back to my table and lit a cigarette, and puffed away
                like a whore after trick.  Wait.  That is the other way around, but
                  you get the idea.  J'Belle came by and placed the Coke gently in
                 front of me.  She had a Cheshire grin and her bright eyes twinkled
                 merrily.  J'Belle even gave me a shy wink before she went back to
                  frying her french fries.  I snuffed out my cigarette and enjoyed
                the euphoria of the significance of life, of meeting new people and
                  sharing with them what little I possessed.  It is a really good
                    feeling to know that you may have done some good for another
                               person, and frankly, I had a blast.  
                      I looked back outside as a light blue Chevy truck pulled up. 
                 Chris the Priss was here.  He came in with a courteous nod to the
                  owners of Art's Bugers and hurried over to me with an apologetic
                 face.  "Sorry, Cel.  But I ran into an old friend getting here.  I
                 mean, ran into him.  He wasn't too happy but he'll live."  he said
                                          smiling weakly. 
                      "No problem, Chris.  C'mon.  Let's go see your big plantation
                                   house!"  I replied excitedly.
                      Going out the door, I heard J'Belle call out, "Now y'all come
                                         back soon, Miss."
                      I turned and waved to her in the affirmative and returned her
                                            a coy wink.
                      Art's Bugers may taste like shit, but Art's daughter was the
                  sweetest southern peach I've ever tasted.  I turned to Chris and
                             said, "I don't know about their burgers."
                                  He chuckled as we got into his truck.
                        "...but I would definitely come back for a wedge of their
                                  scrumptious Georgian Peach Pie."
                -------------------------------------------------------------------
                                      Celestine Henley's Anecdotes / Southern Peach 
                      This is paraphrased from the wonderful storyteller Celestine
                 Henley, whose acquaintance I have recently made.  I don't know if
                 her little stories belong here, but sometimes they tend to run on
                the "risque" side.  If this is too, as the term goes, "vanilla" for
                this group, please redirect me to a better place to post.  As well,
                 I would like to hear what people think of the stories.  If people
                like them, please tell me and I'll keep writing them down.  If not,
                  just tell me and I will not waste any future bandwidth.  Thanks.
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