BOX SOCIAL (Part 2)
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"Old Woman, come on out here and meet Abner and Daisy Mae, those nice island folks I was telling ya about."
"Well goodness gracious, glad to meetcha! I'm Dolly. Gabe and me were jest talkin' bout you folks last night. Said I should meet ya all--maybe have ya teach us a thing or two."
"Sure enough," said Daisy, "come on out to the landing and ring the bell and we'll row in to getcha for a soujourn."
"Me and Dolly got our favorite luvin' tree out there. We get under it now and then agin to re-new our sparkin' days."
"We'd be glad to have you Gabe, any ole time. But tonight, Abner and me come over with a hankering to go to that big box social dance you told us about. At the last minute we decided we couldn't stay away--grabbed our church clothes and rowed in--hoping you'd consent to take us, seeings how we're strangers and all in these parts. The only thing we're a might worried about is having no food to auction off. Do they let outsider buy? We got money."
"It don't matter none," Gabe reasured her, "We'd be glad to have ya' come along. Me and Dolly can pack three boxes jest as easy as two. Ain't no way telling who you'd eat with that way. Kind of excitin' and expands yer options . . if ya get my drift."
"Sounds right good," said Abner with a gleem in his eye. He tried hard not to rest his eyes too long on Dolly.
"Sure do," agreed Daisy, "but ain't it suppose to be the unmarried women who bring the boxes to auction off?
"Oh don't pay no mind to that. Me and Dolly always take separate boxes to be sold off. We pretend like we're single again since they started lettin' men auction off their own homemade vit'ls."
"That's dang good thinkin' Gabe. I got a hunch we got a whole bunch in common when it comes to ideas about pleasuring ourselves. Ain't that right Daisy?"
"Abner, I could tell right off, these folks was like us."
* * * * * * * * * * * *
"Attention, gentleman," Auctioneer Calhoon yelled, "We're starting with a big beautiful box. Says here: Cured ham, chicken breasts, potato salad, lumber jack beans, kosher dills, soda biscuits, and wild sweet cherry pie topped with whipped sour creme.
"Get to the best part," one man shouted. Several men near him coughed and slapped him on the back.
The auctioneer chuckled. "And moonshine whiskey. This here basket belongs to Dolly, out Fuck'n Creek way. Now any of you here from past years lucky enough to get in her box, knowd full well, what a value this is."
"Ten dollars," someone yelled.
Dolly was shocked. Ten dollars? That was high for a startin' bid. Damn, word does spread.
"Twelve," a voice in the back bid.
"Twenty. A man can't skimp on a woman like her!"
"Thirty dollars," someone yelled.
Big Tom Brady owner of the LAZ-B Sheep Ranch, roared, "Fifty dollars. And not a dollar too much for a woman like that one . . . "
"Fifty dollar. Fifty dollars. Going! Going . . .
"One hundred and fifty dollars," Abner called out.
A gasp rose from the crowd. Dolly felt like she might faint.
"Did I hear you right, sir? Calhoon growled, "Did you say one hundred-fifty dollars?"
"That's right, one-hundred-fifty dollars." Abner worked his way through the crowd and set a stack of gold coins on the table.
One-hundred-fifty dollars was an unheard of amount for a man to spend at a box social.
Gabe whispered into Dolly's ear, "That young man sure do have the hots for you honey."
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To Be Continued: Part 3
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Babe
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