{ASS}AnnD"Centerfold"MF(1/4)
ann_d...@hotmail.com
By Ann Douglas
(ann_d...@hotmail.com)
Part One
Jim McGuire skidded his bike to a stop in
front of the large blue sided house. Setting the
bike up against the white picket fence, the
eighteen-year-old glanced at his watch. He smiled
as he saw that he was right on time. Not that Mrs.
Burke would’ve been angry if he had been a little
late, but it was a matter of pride to the sandy
haired young man that he showed up places when
he said he would.
Originally, he had planned to spend this
week in Florida. His parents had promised him a
trip to the Kennedy Space Center as a graduation
present. He’d been interested in space since he
was ten and had been looking forward to the trip
for years. But the Challenger disaster last January
changed all that. He told his parents that he’d go
when the Shuttles flew again, even through some
critics were saying that might not be until 1987, or
88.
“Good afternoon, Mrs. Burke.” he called
out as he spotted the silver haired woman waiting
on the porch.
“Afternoon James.” the fifty-two year old
waved back as she pulled a large stack of mail
from the box.
Christine Burke had been a fixture in the
neighborhood since long before Jim McGuire had
been born. Almost every kid in the area looked
on her as sort of an adopted Aunt. Without any
children of their own, she and her husband,
Doctor Ron Burke had made up for it by
getting involved in many of the youth oriented
activities in the small town. In fact it was as a
Den Mother that Jim had first met her when he
joined the Cub Scouts. A few years later, when he
graduated to the Boy Scouts, Ron Burke had been
the senior Scoutmaster.
The memory of his days in the Scouts
made Jim think once again what a shame it was
what happened to Dr. Burke last year. He had
been coming home late one night after visiting a
patient and was involved in a head on collision
with a drunk driver. The police said the other
driver had been doing ninety miles an hour when
he slammed into Dr. Burke’s station wagon. The
fact that he didn’t survive the crash either was a
poor consolation.
It was because of Dr. Burke that Jim had
been coming over these last few days. After a
year, Christine Burke had decided that her
husband of almost twenty-eight years would want
her to get on with her life and not spend it
mourning his death. So she had begun to clear
out some of his things. Clothes to various good
will agencies. Parts of his library to the local boys
club. And now, most of his scouting gear to the
troop.
Technically, Jim wasn’t a Boy Scout
anymore, having passed his 18th Birthday three
weeks before. But he had been filling in for the
one remaining Scoutmaster who was away on
vacation. Besides, with all the Burkes had done
for the troop over the years, it was the least he
could do.
“You know where everything is, James.”
Christine said as she stepped off the porch. “I’m
going to run a few errands before it gets much
hotter. Although I can’t really imagine how it
could.”
“I heard over in the drugstore that it’s
supposed to drop to a cool eighty-five degrees
tomorrow.” Jim grinned as she walked passed
him.
“I’d better dig up my winter coat then.”
Christine laughed.
As he watched Christine Burke get into
her car and pull out of the driveway, Jim was glad
she had decided to put the tragedy behind her. In
fact, he’d heard more than a few of the older men
at his Dad’s hardware store remark that they’d
love to date Christine now that she was a widow.
Of course a few of them had put it in a lot blunter
terms. They’d been friends of Ron Burke and many
times over the years had envied the woman he went
to bed with each night.
Jim had thought that if he were thirty or so
years older, he’d probably want to date Mrs.
Burke too. Aside from her personality, which was
reason enough in his mind, Christine Burke
definitely wasn’t what you thought of when you
tried to picture a woman in her early fifties.
It wasn’t so much her looks, although she
did look younger, the result of paying attention to
both diet and exercise all her life. It was a matter
of attitude. Someone once told him that age was
just a state of mind. That a person could be pretty
much the same person at 50 as they were at 20.
Originally, he found it hard to believe,
simply because he couldn’t image his own parents
as teenagers. That had changed when he got to
spend time with the Burkes.
It wasn’t hard to imagine the Burkes as
teenagers, because there were times when they
acted like they still were. They had a zest for life
that getting older hadn’t diminished. Jim smiled
as he remembered the All Scout Camping Trip
they had gone on his Junior year of high school.
An overnight trip, the Cubs had come along, and
with them Mrs. Burke. Jim had gotten up to
make a bathroom run during the night and had
almost run into the Burkes in the woods. He
didn’t get close enough to actually see anything,
but from what he heard it wasn’t hard to tell what
they were doing. He couldn’t imagine his parents
doing anything like that, even though they were
almost ten years younger.
Over an hour passed as Jim worked up a
good sweat going through piles of Mr. Burke’s
stuff, despite the air conditioning in the den. It
wasn’t so much the camping equipment that took
a lot of time, but a lot of records and troop plans
that filled several boxes. Then of course they
were mixed in with a lot of other folders,
magazines and such that had to be sorted. It
looked like the man saved everything he ever read
or wrote over forty years. As much as many of
the Scouts liked to think otherwise, Ron Burke
was far from perfect. His haphazard filing system
was just one example.
“He’s got Time and Life magazines here
from the 1950’s.” Jim said to himself as he pulled
open the lid from another storage box. “I’d better
be careful with these, I’ve heard some of these
books are worth a lot of money to collectors.
Carefully putting those magazines aside,
Jim’s eyes lit up when he saw the pile below them.
“All right, Playboys!” he said out loud.
Actually, it was a few issues of Playboy
and a couple of men’s magazines he had never
heard of. Still naked girls were naked girls.
“I think it’s time for a break.” he laughed
as he sat down at the desk and opened the first
magazine to the centerfold. “Let’s see what they
have to say about Miss June of 1960.”
Miss June had a 36-20-36 figure, Jim read
as he opened to the centerfold. 5 foot 2 and 108
lbs she’d been born on October 17, 1937. Her
ambition was to do a Broadway show. Turn ons
were the color black and strawberries. Turnoffs
included hypocrites and snobs. Hobbies were
swimming, sketching and dancing.
"Now why can't I meet a girl like that?"
Jim laughed aloud as he spread the 22-year-old's
centerfold to its full length.
Looking again at the data sheet, Jim
realized that Miss June had been born six years
before his mother. That put a little damper on the
fantasy that had popped into his mind.
Jim closed that issue of Playboy and
picked up another. This one was an even earlier
edition from 1955. The centerfold in that one was
a really cute redhead with short hair. Her pictorial
was shot in what was at the time a very modern
bath. It was a perfectly natural setting for a
woman to be nude, yet he found it to be very
erotic. Much more so than the spread pussy shots
he’d sometimes seen in current magazines. A
third publication, one which he’d never heard of
before, held similar photos. Pretty women nude
or semi-nude in natural soundings. That and
another issue of the same book dated from the
early 1960’s.
“God, these girls must’ve given thousands
of guys hard-ons!” Jim thought out loud as she
flipped through yet another old title. “I know
they’re giving me one.” he added with a smile.
Taking in a few more pictorials, the
eighteen-year-old wondered what these women
were like today? Grandmothers most likely he
mused as he remembered the publication dates.
He’d love to see a picture of them now, just to
compare. Not nude of course, he didn’t think he
wanted to see old women in the buff. Still, some
older actresses he’d seen in movies and television
still looked pretty good.
Jim’s blue eyes noticed that one magazine
toward the bottom of the pile was wrapped in
plastic. Curious, he pulled that one out. The tape
holding the flap in place was yellow with age,
signifying it hadn’t been opened in years. It was
another one of those old titles that Jim had never
heard of, dated Summer of 1955.
Looking at the first two pictorials, Jim
wondered why Doctor Burke had bothered to
cover this book with plastic. It didn’t seem to be
any different than the other half dozen books he
had already looked at. In fact, if he rated the first
two girls he looked at, they would be on the
bottom of the list.
“Wait a second!” the young man
exclaimed into the empty air as he reached the
third photo shoot. “This girl is definitely an 11!”
The woman he referred to was 21 years
old with baby blonde hair. It was cut short in an
elaborate hairstyle that could only be called
elegant. That simple word applied to the rest of
her as well. Bright blue-green eyes sparkled out
of the glossy centerfold, the jewels of an exquisite
face. Lips bright red in the style of the day framed
a perfect smile, instantly captivating the young
man.
Almost reluctantly, he let his gaze move
down her body. A body that matched her visage.
She had flawlessly rounded breasts that were
perfectly proportioned to her 5’5”, 115-pound
form. A snow white fur coat she had loosely
wrapped around her hid the nipples of her breasts,
but Jim just knew they had to be as perfect as the
rest of her. In fact, when he thought about it, you
really couldn’t call this and any of the other
photographs of this young woman nudes. In
every shot, even though you knew she was naked,
either the coat or a strategic shadow covered her
vital areas.
There was something strangely haunting
about the young woman as Jim stared at the
headshot that finished the pictorial. A sense that
those blue-green eyes were looking right at him
across the years. A feeling that he’d looked into
those eyes before.
“Holy shit!” Jim cried out as he finally
looked at the model’s name.
Again and again, he read the little fact
sheet, stopping once more at the name Christine
Ann Kimball. It had to be a coincidence he thought.
Ann Douglas Web Page
http://www.asstr.org/~Ann_Douglas/
ASSTR Donation Page
http://www.asstr.org/donations.html
*********************************************************
Comments are the life blood of any amateur writer,
the currency in which they are paid. It only takes a few
minutes to send off a few lines, which is little to ask for
in exchange for hours spent creating a story. So be sure to
take those few minutes, it can only result in more and
better stories in the future.
*********************************************************
Sent via Deja.com http://www.deja.com/
Before you buy.