THE DINER   

 

 

 

It was late August, 1966.  Bob and Jim were going to stay with Bob’s grandfather in the hills of southern Arizona.  It was their last break before they started college in the fall.  They had been on the road 10 hours, but still had 250 miles to go.  “Let’s stop for the night”, Bob said as they entered a small desert town.  “I’m about to fall asleep at the wheel.”

“Good idea”, Jim agreed.  “I see a little café up here on the right.  Pull in, and we’ll ask one of the locals if there’s a motel in this town.”  They parked, turned off the car, got out and walked stiff-legged into the café.  There were only two patrons in the café, both leathery-faced old cowboys, cradling coffee in their hands.  A waitress talked idly with the two, one hand on her hip, the other holding a pot of coffee.  All three looked up as the two boys came in. 

“Howdy boys”, said the waitress without a trace of a smile.  “Have a seat”, she said flatly.  “I’ll be with you in a minute”, she said, walking behind the counter to put the coffeepot back on its burner.  When she walked back out to the booth where Bob and Jim sat, she apologized, “Boys, I’m gonna close in about a half hour, so whatever you want, make it simple.  If’n ya don’t mind me sayin’ it, I’d rather you order somethin’ cold, so I don’t hafta cook nothin’.”

 She stood with both hands on her hips as if she was daring them to order hot food.  Jim couldn’t help noticing how defined her forearms were, and wondered if she was that defined all over.  He knew some women seemed to have an almost complete absence of body fat, and they were the women Jim found most attractive.  She was about fifty, Jim guessed, and had a hard-edged, masculine-looking face that he knew sometimes signified a lean, muscular body.  She wore a pink waitress outfit with a plain white collar, white support hose, and white sensible shoes.  It looked ridiculous on her.  Jim began to fantasize about what she might look like without her clothes on.  He was wondering if her legs and ass were as hard as her forearms when she smacked him on the shoulder.

“Hey, sleepyhead!”  She said.  “Time’s a wastin’.  Whatcha gonna have?  I ain’t got all night.”

“Sorry”, Jim apologized.  “I’ll have a BLT.  What are you gonna have, Bob?”

“I ordered while you were dreamin’, Jim”, Bob said, laughing at his friend’s lapse.

“It’ll be right up”, she said, walking into the kitchen.  “City boys”, she said to the cowboys as she passed their table.  The cowboys nodded their heads in agreement, finished the dregs of their coffee, and laid some coins on the table.

 “See ya, Mabel”, one yelled to the waitress as they walked out.  Mabel waved tiredly from the kitchen.  She finished and brought the boys their food.  Jim saw how clearly the muscles on her forearms stood out, even though she was carrying plates that only weighed a few ounces.  He wondered how her biceps would look if they were really stressed, and began to fantasize about the two of them doing a heavy bicep workout.  He got a throbbing hardon as he watched her walk away.

Before he had taken his first bite, he looked up and saw her leaning against the wall by the cash register.  He couldn’t believe his eyes—she had her left hand on her right bicep, absent-mindedly feeling the muscle.  He saw her straighten her arm, make a fist, then slowly bend her elbow.  She squeezed her bicep with her left hand, exploring its shape with her fingers.  And then, to Jim’s astonishment, she pushed up the sleeve of her pink waitress top.  She straightened out her arm and bent her elbow, watching her muscle contract.  She did it again, and then again.  She felt her swelling bicep once more, then pushed down her sleeve, and looked at the clock on the wall.  She looked over at the boys and saw Jim staring at her, open-mouthed.  She put her hands on her hips as if she were daring him to speak.

Jim lowered his gaze and ate, dick throbbing, his mind racing.

“Hey Jimbo”, Bob said.  “I’m gonna ask the waitress if there’s a place in this town we can crash.”

“Hey, Mabel…is there a motel in this town?” Bob yelled.

“Just one, and it’s full.”  She answered.  “Tell you what, though”, she continued, you can stay at my place.  I’ve got a little ranch about five miles outta town.  Three bedrooms.  I live alone.  You won’t be no trouble.  Whaddya say?  You up for that?”

She had her hands on her hips again, almost daring them to refuse.

     “OK by me”, Bob said.  “OK by you, Jimbo?”

     Jim could only nod.  He was already planning to beat off with the sight of her flexing biceps in his mind.

 

     They followed her down a gravel road to a small ranch.  When they pulled up to the front of the house, she told them to get their bags out of their car and go up on the porch.  “I’ll park around back and then come through the house and let you in the front door”, she yelled from the window of her pickup.   A few minutes later, the boys saw lights go on in the house, and she came to the front door and unlocked it.

     “Come on in, fellas.  This is what I call ‘Home Sweet Home’.  It ain’t fancy, but its mine”, she said.  “I’m gonna change.  I need to check my stock before I turn in.  You guys turn in if you want to.  The bedrooms are down the hall.”  She went upstairs.

     “I’m bushed”, Bob said.  “I’m gonna hit the sack.”  He went in one of the bedrooms and shut the door.

     “See you in the morning”, Jim yelled after him.  “I’m gonna see if she needs any help with the animals.”  He was wondering if there was any chance he could talk her into showing him that muscle one more time before he beat off.

     Jim’s reverie was interrupted by Mabel’s footsteps on the stairs.  She had changed into boots, jeans, and a sleeveless undershirt.  “What’re you still doin’ up?” she asked.  “Ain’t you tired?”

     “I…I…I…thought you might need help with your animals”, he stuttered.  The sight of her in a sleeveless undershirt made it nearly impossible for him to think.  Her arms were almost inhumanly defined.  Her biceps were bifurcated, and Jim could see all three heads of her deltoids.  She looked like a picture from an anatomy textbook.

     “What’s the matter with you, boy?” she asked.  “Ain’t you never seen a woman before?”  She had her hands on her hips again.  “Well, if’n you want to help, follow me!” she said, and walked out the door into the night.  Jim followed her, heart racing.

     She slid the barn door open and stepped inside.  Jim followed.  “Its kinda dark in here”, she said.  “You kinda hafta feel your way along.  Here.  Gimme yer hand, boy.”  Jim found her hand.  It was strong and calloused.  He squeezed it, and thought he felt her squeeze back.  Jim could hear the cattle snort, trying to catch the scent of a stranger in their midst.  Mabel let go of his hand.  “Stay right there, I gotta check somethin’ down here.”  He heard her walk to the other end of the barn.

     “Is there a light in here, Mabel?” Jim asked.  “I can’t see a thing.”

     “Shit fire, boy.” Jim heard her say scornfully.  “Are you afraid of the dark?  Here, wait a minute.”  He heard her walk a few steps.  There was a click, and a dim light at the top of the barn came on.  Mabel turned from the wall where the light switch was and walked over to him.  “I need to get some sacks of feed down from the hay mow”, she said.  “As long as you’re here, you might as well give me a hand.  Ya think yer up to it, boy?   They’re fifty pounds each.”

     “I’ll give it a go”, Jim said.  The thought of seeing her lift a fifty pound sack of feed was delicious.  He felt as if a dream was about to come true.

     “OK.” She said, let’s climb up.”  With that, she mounted a vertical ladder next to her.  Jim followed her up the ladder.  There were about twenty sacks of feed in the mow.  “This is kinda hot work”, she said.  “I hope you don’t mind if I take off my undershirt.”  Before Jim could answer, she reached down, grabbed the hem of her shirt and pulled it over her head.  Jim’s mouth fell open.  Not only were her arms and shoulders muscular and defined, but she had a six-pack and pecs to go with them.  “Boy”, she began.  “I saw you lookin’ at me in the café when I was feelin’ my muscle.  You looked like you were enjoyin’ it.  I thought you’d like to see all of me.”

     “I’ve never seen a woman like you before, Mabel.”  Jim said, gasping for breath.  “Can I feel your muscles?” he asked, hoping against hope she’d say, “Yes”. 

     “Only if’n you can out rassle me”, Mabel said, arms on her hips again.  Before Jim could move, she had him around the waist.  She picked him up, threw him on the sacks of feed and lay on top of him.  “One, two, three!” she counted, and slapped the floor.  “I win!” she said. 

She didn’t get off for another throwdown.  Instead, she pulled herself up so their faces were inches apart.  She crossed her arms on his chest and looked into his eyes.  “You want to feel my muscle now, boy?”  Jim nodded.  She raised her right arm, bent her elbow and made her bicep bounce.  Jim stared.  “Go on, feel it, don’t just look at it!” she demanded.

Jim put his hand on her bicep.  “How did you get these muscles?” he asked.  His dick was as hard as a pole.

“Workin’” She said, continuing to make her bicep jump.  “And liftin’”

“Lifting…as in lifting weights?” he asked.

“No”, like in liftin’ sacks of feed…and other heavy stuff.  I can lift one of these sacks of feed with one arm”, she said, tickling him under the arms.

“No way!  They weigh fifty pounds!” Jim laughed.

“Yes, I can!” she teased.  “C’mon, I’ll show you.”  She stood up and picked up a piece of rope that was laying over one of the beams.  She bent over and wrapped the rope around a sack of feed, tied a loop in the rope and put her hand through it. “OK.  Are you ready for this?” she asked, smiling.  She stood up and grabbed a beam with her other hand for balance.  With her elbow braced against her hip, she began to pull against the weight.  Jim couldn’t believe it—she was lifting the sack with one arm!  Slowly, inch by inch, the fifty pound sack of feed rose until her arm was parallel to the floor.  “Feel my muscle now, boy”, she puffed.  Jim stood up and did as he was told.  It was hard as a river rock.  Mabel looked at him and smiled, chest heaving, biceps trembling, the veins in her forearm engorged with blood.  She held the sack for a moment and then let it drop.  Mabel bent over, freed her hand from the loop of rope and collapsed on the feed sacks.  She massaged her swollen bicep, breathing heavily, eyes on Jim’s bulging pants.

After she caught her breath, she sat up and took off her boots.  Then she undid her jeans and slipped them off.  “It’s been a long time since I’ve been with a man, Jimbo” she said.  Her face had lost its hard edge.  She stretched out full length on the pile of sacks, flexing her thighs, reaching straight over her head, tightening her triceps.  Then she bent her elbows, showing both iron-hard biceps.  “Would you like to fuck me, boy?”

“You don’t have to ask twice, Mabel.”