Part III Of the Trip to Find Billy Jack.

Frankly folks this happened so long ago I can barely remember anything that happened. A friend offered this bit of advice. "Just write we met a bunch of old chicks and they wanted to get busy with us. At least then it's over."

I will include an excerpt from a post that explains the Cougar phenomenon:

What is a Cougar and why are they dangerous?

Definition: An older woman trying way too hard to look young. Usually heavy makeup and way too tan, sometimes orange. Generally has leathery, smoking damaged skin, short skirt, and may have obvious breast implants. See any big city bar scene.

Part III. We are Attacked by Four Wild Cougars in Jerome, Arizona.

My friends want to sit at a table far away from the door and pool table. But I object. “I want to sit on the bench.” I tell them the bench is the only seating located next to other people in the bar.

We spot cougars...

The table located next to us has 4 very drunk women seated at it. The band we hoped to see had just stopped playing. I got asked if I liked to dance by the drunkest of the four women, Nurse Betty.

“No.” I replied.

“Darn. We were hoping for some action.”

I took a sip of my beer and rolled my eyes at her.

“What... you mean we aren’t enough action for you?”

I glanced over at her friends and waived my hands toward them. She took my bait and all 4 of the cougars joined us. And in one voice assured us that were that we were "all the action they could need."

I wore a baseball cap. So did Card Shark. Drunk Nurse Betty wanted to look under Shark’s hat, but he told her he was bald. That didn’t bother any of the cougars. They claimed to like bald men. "Pat" put an end to any refusal we could offer by claiming to love combovers. Pat thought combovers were sexy.

Nothing could dissuade these women from looking under are hats. Shark finally freed his tussles from under his cap. The girls took turns running their fingers through his long hair.

Next they turned all that post-menopausal attention towards me. They wanted to see what was under my hat too. I was not dressed for sex play. I had on jeans, a hooded sweatshirt, and a baseball cap. “I’m balding.” I told them. “You aren’t going to want to see what’s under my hat.”

But when cougars see their prey they get aggressive. They are like 14-year-old boys. All pent up sex energy. But unlike a sexually immature boy, an older woman feels entitled to satisfy her urge. Now that nature had released them from child-bearing, they molested us with abandon. They relished in the child's play of desire.

“We want to see what’s under your hat.” They repeat. I relent. I give them a peek. They see for themselves the receding hairline. Maybe it reminds them of getting old, because they quickly turn their attention away from it.

But they don't want me to feel bad. They start in on me. Telling me how they each like hats on men. They encourage me to keep it on. With my hat and casual clothes I could be mistaken for someone 25 years their junior. I think they like that part of me best of all.

We drive to Clarksdale because Clarksdale has a band. Married Guy sits up front with Card Shark and two of the Cougars. Joe and I make the trip in the back of the pickup bed along with the other two Cougars.

It's cold and windy. And we all anticipate getting frozen on the trip. Joe does something that astounds me. He snuggles up with the only half way cute cougar. Probably in her 40's, she doesn't wear tapered acid washed jeans. She still colors her hair. And she is decently in shape. Her face gives away her age, but at least the giveaway says "Milfy" not "Gilfy."

I am left to fend with the most obnoxiously drunk older woman I have ever seen. She had little or no self-awareness of her drunken state. The following conversation is not verbatim.

Drunken Nurse: "Do you want to snuggle, why don't you want to snuggle with me? Are you gay? Do you like women?"

It is precisely because I like women that I am not turned on by you.

I am annoyed at myself for allowing this turn of events. I know I can give no encouragement to Drunk Betty. I know any encouragement I give to Nurse Betty will become hands tugging away at my limp manhood. I don't want that. I am still hopeful that Milfy will give me a try.

But my my hope for a turn with Milfy dies as I watch Joe snuggle. I underestimated my competition in GI Joe. I assumed he would be lackadaisical. I was not prepared to deal with his assertiveness. I should have been angry about the way things had turned out, but instead I felt only a begrudging respect. The old man had a few tricks up his sleeve still.

I stayed warm in the back of the pickup because I borrowed a jacket from inside the truck. I stay warm with out the any of the human contact that Nurse Betty so desired. She complained the entire drive about how cold she was even after I allowed her some side-to-side touching. I know women are always cold, and it was 30 degrees with 60 mph winds, but I had already offered her my jacket. I was not about to offer my loins.

The Cougars who sat up front in the cabin were hungry. They asked if we carried any food or snacks in the truck. Card Shark kept a wary eye on his third cookie and did not share it. Even when asked directly, he refused.

***
A side note to women everywhere. When you first meet a man. And you ask him for a favor. If he turns you down. Assume he finds you ugly. ***

Clarksdale, Arizona.*
Home of the 10/12 Lounge and the One Class Act Blues Band.

A truly terrific band. Like most blues fans I am white. And like many whites I trace my love of the blues back to Bill Cosby. The appearance of legendary bluesman B.B. King on the Cosby show when I was in the 9th grade changed my musical tastes forever.

The lead guitarist and singer walked around the room as he played. Much like another Arizona bluesman, Carvin Jones. The band was elated to see a group such as ours enter the bar. We shouted along with the band. We cheered and applauded their efforts. It felt like destiny. The band played inspired.

Most Cougars love to dance. And these cougars were no exception to the rule. I danced with all 4 cougars. One cougar gave me the "fuck you eyes." I cannot express to you how disturbing it is to have a women 10 years older than your mother look you up and down like a piece of meat. She was ravenous in her sexual hunger. She did not mind showing me her desire. She showered it upon all three of my companions.

Her eyes said "I will fuck you tonight." Her mood was was confident and secure. She seemed to be saying that, "I know I am not what I used to be. But I am willing. And men enjoy that. Moreover; I am ready to abandon myself to the instinctual."

I will not play with that kind of fire.

But I danced for the first time in several years. I remembered what it was like to have the attention of a woman. I recalled why I missed that attention. A woman makes a man behave and feel differently. I felt more alive though I was dancing with death. I grew in confidence. I thought I could be valuable. If not to the world like any man of substance desires, then to a woman, and if not to these women, then to some women somewhere.

I saw my friends sharing that same feeling. They would not be dismayed by life completely either.

We drove the cougars home. Back to their hotel room in Jerome. They were sorry to see us go. But Married Guy needed to get home. They understood. G.I. Joe needed to feed his dogs. Dogs that love to lick me. Now I would not get laid because of Trixie the Dog.

I could have stayed. They wanted to cuddle. I am not sure I can satisfy 4 hungry cougars. I am not sure there is enough meat to feed such a hungry group.

But I think I would have liked to have stayed.

* The actual name of the city is Clarkdale, but the sound "Clarkdale" in my head disturbed the story for me.