After the elderly Dart, nicknamed the “Swingmobile” because of the ludicrous Swinger designation Chrysler had given the boxy model, was parked in the packed dirt parking area of the farm, the girls bailed out, stretching and looking out for any cute guys also arriving. It seemed as though almost no one from their small, conservative college, Mount Unity, either knew about or dared attend the annual event, fortunately. Only local students and those taking summer classes like Robin were still around in July anyhow.
All four girls stripped, each carrying only a small bag for wallet and essentials slung over a shoulder. Momentarily panicked, Robin eyed the overcast sky thankfully: she’d forgotten sunscreen. With her fair skin, a sunny unprotected day could mean a week of pain and peeling. It looked like rain – not at all uncommon during the humid summers here – was more likely than blue skies.
The lovely redhead carefully affixed the two small, self-adhesive name tags, one above each beautiful breast. With the marker, she had carefully crossed out the “I’m” and written in “We’re.” As had become expected, she received the amused shakes of three heads. Like everyone else, her sorority sisters had no idea what Robin was thinking.
Naked except for their small purses and their shoes (two pairs of canvas sneakers, Christine’s wedged heels that stretched her long tanned legs out even more than usual, and the eye roll-worthy blue Topsiders), the girls headed toward the gate, prepaid tickets in hand. No tickets were ever sold at the gate or the day of the event, and no alcohol was allowed inside, to limit unruliness and appease the local authorities.
—–
“Come on, Jaybird. It’ll be fun.”
“There’ll be titties. Lots and lots of titties.”
“Riddle-me Red will be there.”
Jay looked up that last. “How the hell do you know?”
Vern, the big, lumbering former guard on the local high school football team, now a part time janitor at the one of the two rubber band factories in town, shrugged. “She was there the last two years and she’s here at Mount for summer school classes again.”
Jay knew why they wanted him to go: Billy had been called in to work at the family IGA grocery store today and no way was Vern not getting paid for the fourth ticket. In 1983, ten dollars was no chump change. Otherwise, Jay was not usually on the top of their list for “it’ll be fun” weekend company, especially if titties might be involved.
Even though he has gone to elementary and middle school with the rest of them, Jay was considered odd. He’d disappeared to go “back East” somewhere to a special college for the young and gifted. Now 19, he would have a college degree by Christmas. None of the others had any schooling past graduating from the miserable local high school, except Billy with one year worth of marketing and general Ed. classes at “Tri-C,” the local community college. Even Mount Unity, known mainly for its Ag department, seemed an intellectual world apart to them.
Riddle-me Red. Vern had come up with the name when he came back with stories from the Birthday Suit Bazaar two years ago. Held back in second grade, he was a year older than the rest of the boys in his class, so he had met the eighteen year age cut off a summer sooner.