We were tired of the girls in our gang so we decided to look for new ones. Maybe it would be more accurate to say that David was at odds with Diana, I had never been even with Jane, George was off somewhere with my other cousin Paula, and Joey was always looking for a girl to call his own. He had spotted a trio of fine hot chicks, as he called them, on the shore across the point from where Diana and Jane summered. So we clambered into his boat, pulled the black Merc into life, and took off for the territories as all ravenous boys will do.
Three girls about the same age as us were lounging on beach chairs catching the rays of mid-July like sunbathing sirens of New Moon Lake. We crashed upon the shoals of longing. Sinking in awkwardness, we howled inside as the lake began to drown our greatest expectations, when Joey grabbed the lifeline of their dock and cried, “Would any of you girls like to water-ski today?” Smooth as the unruffled waters of that hot and humid afternoon.
The tall lithe blonde object, whom we would soon know as the sharp-tongued subject named Melissa, yelled out, “Sure, do you know someone who has a shipshape boat that can pull a lightweight like me?” Joey grinned while David and I howled out loud. “Oh, I think this tub of fiberglass can do the trick,” he threw the ski rope toward the shore. “And I can always teach you if you don’t know how.” Forever on the ready, that Joey.
She certainly knew how and showed us a few tricks that afternoon. Her friend, Susan, did not though and rode in the boat with us, while the third, Sandy, kept her company, alternating with Melissa as both took turns jumping wakes and riding waves. Joey kept the throttle active, David coolly manned the rope, while I tried to say a word or two to Susan, as she filled my world with memory and desire. I remembered Jane, but wanted her. A boy’s heart is a great dark permanent void easily filled by the nearest luscious evanescent object.
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