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Georgia was a gal who oozed what they wanted and each thought he knew what it took to get it.

"Lover Boy"

by Ray Dennison



Vol. 1, No. 11,  1957

    "AND I TELL you that I'll be in bed with Georgia before you!" And to emphasize the point, he jabbed his finger into the other's chest.
    Slowly, the other man withdrew his friend's--and now his rival's--finger from under his fifth rib.
    "Look, Joey-boy, this isn't Stanley." He nodded a chin at the white frocked figure behind the counter busy mixing some kind of ice cream concoction. "This is a man here." This time he jabbed his own figure into his chest. A man who knows how to operate. And I say it's me she'll shack up with first."
    Small-Stan, such being his physical structure, that was the only name he could have been called by, sidled from the other end of the counter to hear the conversation. The victories of his customers always did Small-Stan good it almost made him feel like a man.
    The name Georgia struck against his ears like a tiny dart.
    He knew Georgia well. Knew every sway of her slow, indolent walk. Could almost taste the strawberry of her lips. Could almost feel the firmness of the flesh that, though she covered it, was still nude to his mind. Yes, Small-Stan knew Georgia well. He also knew that it didn't take too much to get into bed with her. Just the right amount of greenstuff. And maybe, only maybe, the right guy to go with it.
    Yes, Small-Stan knew Georgia well. But she didn't even know he existed.
    His head and ears followed the flowing conversation like it was a tennis match. First one serving, then the other picking it up and returning it. And the volley was going on strong right now as to the approachability of the aforementioned Georgia.
    "And I say it'll be me before you."
    "And I say this is where the men get separated from the boys."
    "Willing to back that lie up with folding money?"
    "You bet. I got ten says you strike out."
    "For such a big man you don't have much confidence."
    "Twenty-five fish then...I'llshow you who's a big man or not."
    "Make it fifty and you're on." If he expected the size of the wager to force the other to leave the field he was mistaken. And an instant later two green framed portraits of General Grant lay on the counter. And two pair of eyes fell on Small-Stan.
    "Since you're the only one we can both trust, Small-Stan, you're gonna hold the bet. Winner takes all."
    "That's right, Stanley. Who ever ends up in the sack with the gorgeous Georgia also ends up with the two half-C notes. Understand?"
    Small-Stan gulped, pocketed the two bills. And nodded.
    He understood.
    And he watched the two of them race for the telephone booths at the other end of the store.

    THEY SAT in the lob by of Georgia's hotel watching the door to the elevators. They sat and they waited and they watched, but each was oblivious of the other's presence. For though they sat on the same lounge chair, they were separated by a veritable forest of ferns and huge man-sized vases.
    And as they sat there they dreamed of what this night would be like. For they had heard the stories about Georgia from the more lucky, or more skillful, of their cronies.
    And they knew about her body al most with the same familiarity as if they had once possessed it. Knew about the perfectly formed breasts that be came alive under a man's touch. Knew about the shimmering thighs that could possess a man and then own him. So they sat there and they both dreamed. And at this point, the thought of the fifty dollar bills was the furthest thing from their minds.
    The elevator doors yawned open and Georgia came out. An angel came out. A dream more revealing than concealing in a navel-cut gown that clung to her like a spider web.
    They rose to their feet and rushed toward the dream. And in their haste and clumsiness, knocked against each other. They stopped. Stupefied at the other's presence.
    Then, with confident smiles they turned away from each other, turned to face the dream. This would decide it once and for all. This would show the other who really was the man.
    Georgia smiled at them as she undulated forward. But then she was past them. Past their open arms and drooping mouths. Past them and to the figure that had arisen from the other side of the potted palms.
    The small thin figure with the horn- rimmed glasses.
    The eager figure of Small-Stan.
    Then she was in his arms, her body seeming to tower over his. And the kiss she planted against his mouth made him grow in size. For he returned it.
    And she stiffened in his arms. And then relaxed and seemed to flow against him.
    Finally, he held her off from him. A faint smile at his lips as he said, "Let's go, baby, the evening's young yet."
    She answered him, loud enough for the two to hear. "Then why waste it, man, there's only one place I want you. That' s in bed."
    Arm in arm they walked back to ward the elevators. Rapture on the girl's face, manliness on his. And as he passed the other two, he whispered, "About the C-note . . . I included myself in on the bet. Any objections ?"
    They had no answer, for Small-Stan had become Tall-Stan. Tall-Stan the Man.
    Even Georgia had sensed that.


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