I worked in a fast-food fish place at Navy Pier when I was in college. There was this girl who also worked there named Briny, spelled like the briny deep on her name tag but pronounced Breeny, like beany with an R. I still thought of her as Briny like the briny deep, though.
She wore tortoiseshell glasses so thick they made her eyes look like the fish eyes that stare up in schools from the smelly buckets and cleaning tables along the pier. Even through those thick glasses her eyes seemed to send out sparks–or maybe it was her voice that did that.
The guy who owned the place caught me looking at her once and told me he thought she was a lesbian. I thought she might be too, but even that intrigued me. He seemed to think since I was sort of a beach-bum type that I had the hots for that other chick whose name, like I said, I never could remember. I never corrected him. He couldn’t have been further off base if someone had paid him to think that way.
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The first time I heard Briny on the phone with the fish supplier I discovered I had a mild hard-on. I didn’t pay any attention to it at first, but the longer I worked there the more I began to realize it was happening more frequently. I found myself getting a hard-on every time something or somebody pissed her off and she took that solid stance with her feet spread apart and her hands on her hips, and that voice of hers grew deep and boomed in firm, even tones across the entire restaurant.
As I got older, I needed more women’s voices to satisfy me. I started going through the phone book and calling people when my parents were out. The women who lived alone were easy to spot. Just look for the initial listings.
My dad, who was a very shrewd businessman, believed that he wouldn’t be doing me any favors by sending me away to a fancy school with enough allowance to party until I flunked. So he just sent me to a nice school in town and paid my expenses and told me I had to earn my own play money and whatever wheels I could afford.
I grabbed her and tried to pin her against the sink. She fought like the devil, which I knew she would, but I got her down to the floor. About the time I got her shirt pulled up and her bra jacked up over those incredibly hard tits, she grabbed my balls and put a crushing squeeze on them that to this day I’m not entirely convinced didn’t make me sterile.
