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"Yeah, I know"


by David James


“Sugar Pies, what can I bring y'all to drink tonight?” was the way Babette (née Mary Jones) always addressed the balcony tables full of men on those after payday nights at Sticket Inn. We loved it when she bent over the table with that scoop-necked T-Shirt — almost revealing her tits. She'd take our orders, turn and leave our table, shaking her hips in her tight leather shorts making her ass look alive. Then, she'd look back over her shoulder in a rather Marilyn Monroe pose with that Marilyn-ish crease of a grin. What a tease!

She'd return to our table, eyes blazing, lean over and pass out those cold, fizzy drinks we all ordered to recover from working all day in that hot, south Georgia sun, cutting pulpwood for the paper mill. She'd handle our examination of her sexy attributes with a smile as she murmured her quiet “thank yous” while she crouched, gathered up the coins, folded the dollar tips and stuffed both into her short's pockets.

Hard to believe now, but in high school, she was my girl before she had to quit school in the tenth grade to find some sort of job to help out after her Daddy drowned.

Last week, as I was leaving, I couldn't hold back and I showed her a picture I'd kept of us from back then. Me, with a crew cut and freckles, her, with her toothy smile and her mousy, brown hair kept off of her brow with an appropriate, “Minnie Mouse” barrette. She smiled, just said, “Yeah, I know”, turned, and went back to the bar to fill another drink order.

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