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Debbie Hyatt had walked by the Spare Time Bowling Center every evening since she had moved into her apartment down the block last week, but unlike the previous times Debbie found herself going toward the entrance. Her heart was racing because there was a bunch of boys around the front door smoking and talking loudly but fortunately for the shy teen they largely ignored Debbie as she went in, although a couple of them snickered when she had a little trouble with the balky door.
The minute Debbie entered the building a wall of sound greeted her, the crashing of pins and the banter and clapping of the bowlers startling the girl at first, but it was a lot more interesting than her furnished studio apartment with the black and white TV that only got 2 local stations because of the coat hanger antenna. Debbie made her way down the long narrow building, past the row of 32 lanes that were all in use, and tried to make it seem like she belonged there so she didn’t get thrown out.
There was a snack bar at the far end, opposite the last four alleys, so after counting her money Debbie went up to the counter and got a slice of pizza before sitting at a vacant table on the slightly elevated dining area so she could watch the bowlers. The teen looked at the sad looking slice and tried to figure out how long she could nurse it so she had a reason to keep her seat, although the area was mostly empty.
A guy in a bowling shirt with patches all over it walked past her on the way to the counter, and when he came back with a soda in hand he slowed at Debbie’s table and after smiling asked if the pizza had gotten any better.
“I don’t know. I’ve never been here before,” Debbie answered after she found her voice.
“Live and learn honey. We all do,” he chuckled. “You bowling?”
“No, I’ve never.”
“You should give it a try,” he said before taking a sip of the soda, and Debbie did a double take when she saw how big his forearms were, sort of like Popeye. “The league’s just starting and there’s a few openings.”
“Oh, I couldn’t. It looks kinda tough and I would be horrible.”
“That doesn’t stop any of these other characters,” he said, and then added. “Looks like I’m up.”
Debbie watched the guy go over to alley 29 and pick up the ball, and after he walked up to the line and rolled it, the ball went fast down the right side and suddenly hooked, knocking down all but one pin. The guy reminded Debbie of her old friend from next door, mainly because he had his haircut a little like she did, a bit like the Dutch Boy character on the old paint cans that lined the basement of their house.
The guy knocked down the solitary pin and all his teammates clapped, and Debbie was a little shocked when he came back towards her and repeated the offer to join the league. Debbie thanked him but repeated that she never bowled and then sheepishly added that she just moved in down the block and although she just started working money was kind of tight.
“Oh, well if you want I can give you a couple of lessons some evening. I’ll pay for the games and if you like it and want to sign up I’ll put up the money until you get on your feet,” he told her and then turned his attention to the woman bowling with the same color shirt he had, and as he encouraged her Debbie looked at all of the patches on the front and short sleeves which seemed to signify high scores.
Those short sleeves were so tight on his biceps that they looked ready to burst, and as the teen looked at the guy trying to recruit her there was something different about him that Debbie couldn’t figure out. The man was built like a body builder with a broad back and shoulders, and he really looked macho, but he was friendly so when he turned to go Debbie wished him luck.
“Thanks, I’ll probably need it,” he replied with a hoarse laugh, and as he gave her a little wave on departing she saw the dark blue patches under the arm of the light blue shirt, a sure sign that this game was tougher than she thought.
Having tried to lift a ball from one of the racks along the length of the building Debbie knew that was another reason she could never bowl, She could never throw the ball like the people were, she mused to herself, but out of the corner of her eye she saw the lady from the behind the lunch counter approaching.
“I’m sorry – I’ll be done soon,” Debbie said as she picked up the partially eaten slice but the woman shook her head and waved that off.
“No. Heck, stay all night if you want. I was just wondering if she was bothering you,” the lady said, and when Debbie’s look registered confusion she waved at the bowler on the lane and said, “Bette. I just wanted to make sure she wasn’t hassling you. Sometimes she comes on a bit strong.”
“Oh – uh – no,” Debbie replied as she tried to recover. “Bette, she’s a friend of mine. I think she’s going to teach me how to bowl.”
As Debbie looked at the guy bowling who had turned out to be a woman, the teen thought back to the words they had exchanged and although casino şirketleri she didn’t remember making any reference to the bowlers’s gender, it would have been just like her to say something stupid and tick off the only person she had met around here that had been nice to her.
The more Debbie looked at Bette, she noticed that while she made no effort to look like a woman, she was. Bette’s voice was low and raspy and her haircut was even less feminine that the mess on Debbie’s own head, not to mention her muscular arms, but the front of her bowling shirt did have slight swells in the chest. In fact, if Bette was a little shorter and her hair was red instead of black, she would look a lot like Mrs. Broadhurst, the lady next door who had befriended her when no one else would, and it even though it was the neighbor lady who was partly responsible for Debbie being where she was today she still had warm feelings for her.
“You must have gotten here early,” Bette declared as she saw her pupil hovering near the front desk. “That’s a good sign – you being eager. You ready to learn a lot?”
“I hope I’m not going to be just wasting your time,” Debbie said.
“Not a chance, and put a smile on your face. This is supposed to be fun you know. Now you’re going to need shoes,” Bette told her as they walked up to the desk. “What size do you take?”
“Um – 8 – or 8 and a half,” Debbie said softly. “Bigfoot.”
“No need to be shy honey,” Bette chuckled as she held up the shoes with the big red 8 on the back. “No secrets here. Make sure they fit and we’ll go find you a ball.”
“Pretty good,” Debbie said after tying them and standing up, and then she followed her coach to the ball racks.
“Poke your thumb and two fingers in – no, the other two. It should be comfortable but not too tight or loose,,” Bette said, and when they got to one that seemed a good fit Bette said, “lift it up and see how it feels. What’s wrong?”
“Trying,” Debbie grunted when she could barely lift it up a inch or two.
“Where’s your muscle Debbie?” her coach asked, and after the teen flexed her arm Bette pinched the slightly pudgy bicep and made a face.
“You make muscles without trying,” Debbie blurted out and then apologized.
“No need. Work in a warehouse for 20 years and you get them,” Bette explained as she then brought the girl to some colorful balls to give them a try, and when Debbie found one that fit she lifted it up and she got giddy.
“Hey!” Debbie chirped as she swung the ball at her side. “This is light.”
“We’re in business. Lane 20,” Bette declared and as they walked towards it Debbie said that it might be her lucky lane because she was going to turn 20 next month.
“Happy birthday in advance!”
“Has to be luckier than 19 was,” Debbie lamented as she set the ball on the little carousel and waved her hand over the air coming out of the vent. “Cool.”
“It’s to dry your hand if it gets sweaty,” Bette said. “Ready to start?”
So began Debbie Hyatt’s bowling lesson, and while the teen was every bit as bad as she had feared Bette was patient and did her best to help Debbie keep the ball out of the gutters. Debbie hoped Bette didn’t notice that when she had stood behind her at the foul line with her arms slightly wrapped around her, her nipples had swollen so much that they were visible through both her bra and her blouse, a sign Debbie took as how much she missed affection.
“56!” Bette crowed after the second game was over and looked at the score sheet. “Now that’s progress.”
“Not hard to improve over my first game,” Debbie noted. “Has anybody ever bowled an 11 before?”
“You did fine,” Bette said as they changed their shoes.
“You only beat me by 140 points that game.”
“Pins,” Bette corrected.
“Oh yeah. Forgot. I think you only bowled a 196 because you felt sorry for me,” Debbie opined.
“Wrong. I always try,” Bette corrected.
“Well maybe someday I’ll get good enough to beat you,” Debbie suggested but then added, “But I doubt it.”
“If you do beat me, you’ll have earned it,” Bette assured the girl as they went up to the counter to pay, and Debbie winced when she saw how much it cost.
“I’m going to pay you back, I promise,” Debbie said as they went outside.
“Maybe you’ll let me give you another lesson – next week maybe? That would be payment enough for me – watching you bowl.” Bette laughed and motioned for Debbie towards her car. “Hop in. I’ll give you a ride.”
“It’s not far,’ the teen started to say but then thanked her coach and climbed into the front seat. “It’s just down the next block.”
“We could go have a drink somewhere if you want,” Bette offered, but Debbie started mumbling nervously.
“No. I can’t,” she settled on.
“No problem,” the older woman replied, but the teen found her tongue at last.
“No. I mean I want to but I can’t,” Debbie blurted out. “I don’t have any fake proof.”
“Damn. My bad. I keep forgetting casino firmaları how old you are,” Bette apologized. “It’s just that you act so mature.”
“It’s down here on the right. The one next to the boarded up place,” the girl said. “I don’t have anything to drink but if you want to come up…”
“I’ll take a rain check,” Bette answered as she gave a dubious look at where her young friend lived, and then Debbie was thanking her for the ride and getting out of the car.
The girl caught herself before she closed the door and ducked back in, leaning over to Bette as she did.
“And thank you for the bowling lesson,” Debbie said, but when she tried to kiss Bette on the cheek she lost her balance and lurched forward, nearly breaking both of their noses before managing to land a sloppy kiss on her cheek and leaning back.
“Screwed that up,” Debbie muttered but the face she made had Bette chuckling.
“You did fine. Next time I’ll be better prepared,” the older woman promised as the teen closed the door and skipped up the steps of the rundown building.
Once safely inside Debbie slammed and bolted the door behind herself, letting out a curse while mentally beating herself up for having really screwed everything up. As her former lover Mrs. Broadhurst was fond of saying whenever she would do something goofy, it’s another case of “just Debbie being Debbie”.
Not having the energy to fiddle around with the aluminum foil antenna on the TV, she stripped down and went to bed early, but as she tried to drop off all she could think of was Bette, and it wasn’t just because she was being so nice to her. Debbie was almost 100% sure that her new friend was gay even though she had never made any reference to her sexuality, but Debbie had no idea whether the older woman was trying to seduce her or not.
Goodness knows she didn’t need to make any effort because from almost the moment they met Debbie was smitten with Bette. Debbie was tempted to come out and tell her that she was a lesbian as well, but that was something she had never been able to do. Besides, what if Bette was just a nice person who was killing time teaching her to bowl in hopes she would join their league and fill one of their openings?
Bette was way older than her, and while that was something that excited Debbie in the past, why would she be interested in some kid who was scraping to get by at a lousy job and lived in a dump like this? Bette had what seemed like a good job at a local factory and she was a confidant woman who had an incredibly fit body, a sharp contrast to her slightly doughy frame. Even hours later Debbie shivered as she recalled the older woman’s touch as she had stood behind her on the lane, her powerful hands on Debbie’s arms as she explained what to do.
Although her body barely grazed against her back it had her sweating bullets, and she was tempted to lean back against her. So close, and since Bette had come to the lanes directly from work she could smell the factory worker’s scent. Nothing flowery of course, but the slightly off aroma had acted like an aphrodisiac to Debbie.
She shouldn’t have made such a half-hearted offer for Bette to come up with her when she dropped her off. So what if she had screwed up that attempt at a kiss? So the place was a dump? She could tell that from the outside, and if Bette had come up who knows? Maybe there would be two women in the bed right now instead of one, and as the teen’s hand slipped down between her legs like it did most times she thought of Bette, Debbie closed her eyes and let her fantasies take over.
“I thought for a while that you were going to bowl a perfect game,” Debbie chirped as she watched her friend change into her street shoes. “8 strikes in a row? You’re amazing.”
“I don’t know how amazing that is,” Bette chuckled. “I got the first 11 strikes one time but I choked on the last shot.”
“Omigod! I think I would have gone crazy if I saw that.”
“You’re crazy enough as it is,” Bette mused aloud as they walked towards the door. “I’m the only bowler in this league with a cheering section.”
“I embarrass you don’t I?” Debbie suddenly blurted out as they hit the parking lot. “My clapping and stuff. Never thought about nobody else having people root for them. I’m so stupid. I always say and do the dumbest things.”
“Hey,” Bette said as they got to her car. “Do you like what you do?”
“Then don’t stop. I don’t care what those people think, and I get a kick out of it so screw them,” the older woman said as she motioned for the teen to get in the car. “Of course if you join next season like you said, you won’t be able to cheer for me unless we’re on the same team.”
“Gonna practice this summer because I think I’m getting more hours soon,” Debbie responded. “Then I can afford to practice, AND to pay you back.
“Forget it. What we’ve got to do is get you out of Mickey Dee’s and into a real job,” Bette offered as she neared Debbie’s apartment. güvenilir casino “That, and getting you out of this apartment if the inside is like the outside.”
“It is – um – last time I wanted to invite you up but I was kinda ashamed,’ Debbie admitted. “I got some Crystal Light so if you want to come up for an ice tea…”
“Or you could come over to my place and we could have a real drink,” Bette suggested and then stifled a smile when Debbie practically yelled her answer. “I’m pretty close to here but it’s a nicer block.”
“Gee, we’re almost like neighbors,” the girl remarked as she saw the change in the homes on the other side of Delaware Avenue. “Don’t worry. I won’t show up without an invitation.”
“it’s not much but…” Bette commented after she closed the door behind her guest and ushered her into the kitchen of her studio apartment.
“It’s like a mansion compared to my place,” the teen lamented as the went through the sparsely furnished room to where a little island seemed to serve as a dining and social area near the fridge.
“My selections are rather limited,” the hostess declared as she set the half-full bottle of Jack Daniels on the counter. “Jack or Jack – or would you rather have a Coke?”
“I want what you’re having,” Debbie replied confidently, so Bette poured healthy shots into a couple of glasses, and after a second went and got a couple of ice cubes for the girl.
“You okay?” Bette quipped when she saw the face Debbie made when she took a sip.
“Sure,” the girl said but her hostess went back to the refrigerator and return with a bottle of Coke which she added to Debbie’s glass.
“You don’t have to drink it if you don’t want to you know,” Bette noted but by then the girl had already brought the glass to her lips and promptly drained it, and the laugh Bette tried and failed to stifle was loud and throaty.
“Damn!” Bette crowed.
“Sorry. Nervous,” Debbie explained in a shaky voice.
“Don’t be sorry. Relax and have another,” Bette countered as she poured again. “Just don’t get too wasted so you have to miss work tomorrow.”
“I’m off tomorrow fortunately.”
“Well in that case drink up,” Bette said as she clinked their glasses together. “You know, if you want to you could stay here tonight.”
Bette started to say that if she did stay she wouldn’t have to worry about driving her home, but Debbie had already answered the question in the affirmative so the older woman made herself another drink and then tugged at the neck of her bowling shirt to get some air circulating under it.
“I know I must smell by now, what will working all day and then bowling,” she commented and then undid the row of buttons and pulled the shirt off her shoulders and set it aside.
The ice cubes in Debbie’s drink rattled because the hand that held the glass was shaking while the teen tried her best not to stare at the older woman who calmly stood there wearing a ribbed white cotton wife-beater with nothing underneath. The teen was a bit shocked at the size of Bette’s breasts which seemed to be no larger than tennis balls looking lost on her rather broad chest, but the way her plump nipples pushed out into the fabric was what captured Debbie’s attention.
“Me standing here half naked like this – does it bother you?”
Bette’s husky voice broke Debbie out of the trance she was in, and the embarrassed girl realized that she had been staring at her friend’s nipples. After stammering and mumbling for what seemed to her like forever Debbie manged to get out that she was sorry for spacing out like she had.
“Just me making a fool of myself again,” Debbie finally concluded.
‘Don’t be so hard on yourself and for heavens sake relax,” was Bette’s response before she started to drift off towards the bathroom. “That girl I met at the bowling alley with the infectious smile who always makes me smile? See if you can get her to come back by the time I get done with my shower.”
“Or you could join me if you want,” Bette suggested as she entered the bathroom.
“Uh – no -uh – I,” Debbie heard herself say, and as the shower got turned on the girl stood there mentally kicking herself while making lurching steps towards the bathroom and then back to where she was standing.
The teen was on the verge of a panic attack as she kept wavering between staying put and joining Bette in the shower. All her long-held insecurities regarding her body seemed to be holding Debbie back even as she unbuttoned the top buttons of her blouse. Finally she grabbed Bette’s drink and downed it with a wince before going to the bathroom where she stood paralyzed, staring at the cloudy image of her older friend scrubbing herself behind the vinyl screen.
“That could be me in there helping – should be,” the girl mumbled under her breath, and then suddenly the spray turned off and the curtain was pulled back, exposing the dripping older woman as she reached for a towel.
“Sorry,” Debbie blurted out as she turned away, but her friend called out to her.
“Wait honey,” Bette said as she began to rub the towel through her short cropped black hair. “I’m not modest, although I suppose at my age with this body I should be. What were you doing?”
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