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From 84 On the Floor
“Jeez,” she said, looking around at the rest of us, “where’dya think we ahh? The Combat Zone?” She pushed Carey away and pulled a set of keys from her jacket pocket, which she jangled in the air. “I got some goodies down on the boat…” As I pondered exactly what she meant by “goodies,” she proceeded to lead us all down to the rickety dock where a half-dozen or so boats of varying sizes were berthed. One of the larger craft, with the name of “Finicu-la-Dee-Da,” rocked slightly in the water as she clambered over the side and waved the rest of us on deck. Although it was one of the bigger boats, it really wasn’t quite large enough for eight good-sized teen-age boys and three girls with Giant Hair. Gina unlocked the door to the cabin and ducked in. Then, the wan glow of a flashlight illuminated the interior as the rest of us proceeded to try and cram into the cabin. Somehow, we did it, and I found my back pressed up against Casey’s expansive torso. This was not an unpleasant place to be. Casey, for his part, did not seem to mind at all either. I began to wish that he would open his top-coat (as his brother had for Gina) and enfold me in it. I could feel his breath in my ear and it was sending tendrils of current down my body. It was all I could do to concentrate. To try and keep from getting hard and melting at the same time.
With almost no light and all the shadow cast by the bulky forms, I couldn’t really see what Gina was doing. I could hear her, moving around in a second, lower space banging things and occasionally cursing. “Where the fuck did I put it?” “What the hell am I gonna do with that?” “Maybe I put it in the dinghy?” “Would one of you come down here and help me find it?” The other boys were joking and laughing as quiet calls of “…that’s what she said…” were uttered with each provocative exclamation from our hostess. “Oh, for frig’s sake, here it is!” she finally said and then materialized with a plastic baggie. “That’s What She Said,” corny as it was, never got old and always elicited a laugh. For the male of the species, anyways. The girls hated it. Mary and Donna were not fans. Donna, especially, would swat anyone who said it with a terse, “grow-up.” Yeah, girls liked That’s What She Said about as much as they liked farting; and only slightly less than The Three Stooges.
The Zip-Loc turned out to contain free-floating Mary Jane, Zig-Zag paper and a couple of pre-rolled joints. A marijuana cigarette was extracted from the bag and “fired up” with a flick of the Bic by our hostess, who took a toke and congenially passed it along. Carey, of course, being to her immediate left and she his inamorata, took it from her taloned fingers. He hit it hard and did not relinquish the doob until he was accused of bogarting. With a laugh, it was passed to Andrew and then Ronnie and then Randy. When it was offered to me, I declined, as did Casey—which was a surprise to no one.
Gina tsked when Casey demurred. “Oh, Case, you’re such a goody two-shoes…”
www.amazon.com/84-Floor-Christopher-Reidy-ebook/dp/B0FY46ZF1F/ref=sr_1_1?dib=eyJ2IjoiMSJ9.whPF0W18xPUkjFfOIgOr8wV376iqyPATAzVqP_-cx_vGjHj071QN20LucGBJIEps.LKqR0uHQCNVhB9s1EYTl46ffINbqgPQbyZBtM4ykD8g&dib_tag=se&qid=1762657894&refinements=p_27%3AChristopher+Reidy&s=digital-text&sr=1-1&text=Christopher+Reidy
See link below!
From 84 On the Floor
“Jeez,” she said, looking around at the rest of us, “where’dya think we ahh? The Combat Zone?” She pushed Carey away and pulled a set of keys from her jacket pocket, which she jangled in the air. “I got some goodies down on the boat…” As I pondered exactly what she meant by “goodies,” she proceeded to lead us all down to the rickety dock where a half-dozen or so boats of varying sizes were berthed. One of the larger craft, with the name of “Finicu-la-Dee-Da,” rocked slightly in the water as she clambered over the side and waved the rest of us on deck. Although it was one of the bigger boats, it really wasn’t quite large enough for eight good-sized teen-age boys and three girls with Giant Hair. Gina unlocked the door to the cabin and ducked in. Then, the wan glow of a flashlight illuminated the interior as the rest of us proceeded to try and cram into the cabin. Somehow, we did it, and I found my back pressed up against Casey’s expansive torso. This was not an unpleasant place to be. Casey, for his part, did not seem to mind at all either. I began to wish that he would open his top-coat (as his brother had for Gina) and enfold me in it. I could feel his breath in my ear and it was sending tendrils of current down my body. It was all I could do to concentrate. To try and keep from getting hard and melting at the same time.
With almost no light and all the shadow cast by the bulky forms, I couldn’t really see what Gina was doing. I could hear her, moving around in a second, lower space banging things and occasionally cursing. “Where the fuck did I put it?” “What the hell am I gonna do with that?” “Maybe I put it in the dinghy?” “Would one of you come down here and help me find it?” The other boys were joking and laughing as quiet calls of “…that’s what she said…” were uttered with each provocative exclamation from our hostess. “Oh, for frig’s sake, here it is!” she finally said and then materialized with a plastic baggie. “That’s What She Said,” corny as it was, never got old and always elicited a laugh. For the male of the species, anyways. The girls hated it. Mary and Donna were not fans. Donna, especially, would swat anyone who said it with a terse, “grow-up.” Yeah, girls liked That’s What She Said about as much as they liked farting; and only slightly less than The Three Stooges.
The Zip-Loc turned out to contain free-floating Mary Jane, Zig-Zag paper and a couple of pre-rolled joints. A marijuana cigarette was extracted from the bag and “fired up” with a flick of the Bic by our hostess, who took a toke and congenially passed it along. Carey, of course, being to her immediate left and she his inamorata, took it from her taloned fingers. He hit it hard and did not relinquish the doob until he was accused of bogarting. With a laugh, it was passed to Andrew and then Ronnie and then Randy. When it was offered to me, I declined, as did Casey—which was a surprise to no one.
Gina tsked when Casey demurred. “Oh, Case, you’re such a goody two-shoes…”
www.amazon.com/84-Floor-Christopher-Reidy-ebook/dp/B0FY46ZF1F/ref=sr_1_1?dib=eyJ2IjoiMSJ9.whPF0W18xPUkjFfOIgOr8wV376iqyPATAzVqP_-cx_vGjHj071QN20LucGBJIEps.LKqR0uHQCNVhB9s1EYTl46ffINbqgPQbyZBtM4ykD8g&dib_tag=se&qid=1762657894&refinements=p_27%3AChristopher+Reidy&s=digital-text&sr=1-1&text=Christopher+Reidy
CFR 11/13/25