When Chuck and I were at Roanoke College, we drank a lot of $.35 drafts at the Barrel House. One night we were there drinking when we somehow found ourselves sitting at our table with a couple of women.
Actually, women might not be the correct word; perhaps “ogresses” would be better. I don’t know if they told us their names or not, but Chuck and I agreed that we’d refer to them as Matilda and Ethel.
Anyway, the more we talked with them, the more obvious it became that they were willing to take us to their apartment and “break in” us young bucks (that’s how they put it, anyway.) Now you’d think that women I’d just described as ogresses, and that we agreed to call Matilda and Ethel, wouldn’t interest us at all, but you’d be wrong: we were drunk, and virginal (I know I was, and I assume Chuck was as well), and that gap in Matilda’s teeth where three were missing was looking pretty darned good. When they got up to go to the bathroom I told Chuck I wouldn’t tell anybody if he didn’t, and he agreed. (I think it’s okay to tell this now, because of how it turned out.)
The “girls” came back, in all their grotesque, fat, greasy glory, and asked if we were ready to leave. They told us to go out and wait for them, as they’d have to ditch their boyfriends (who were playing pool in the back) and would be right out. When we got outside, the cold air must have cleared our heads because we looked at each other and Chuck said “Let’s just go.” We got in my car (remember the Beetle I drove, anyone?) without another word and left.
When we talked it out later (probably at Hardees, eating a late-night biscuit) we decided it was either a setup, and their boyfriends were going to come out and beat us up and take our money (the women probably could have done it themselves, frankly), or we would have gone with them and done some seriously nasty things with some seriously nasty women. Either way, it would have been painful and embarrassing, so we decided we’d made the right choice.