Between the Sheets with Bette

by Earl J. Wilcox

 

When Ms. Midler came to town, everyone up and down Main Street spied her
sparkling blonde braids. With a couple of conspicuous hunks trolling
near Bette to keep the locals in check, the Divine M also
brought along her vivacious voice, toy white
poodles, her classy charm.

She paraded everything, including her notable boobs, in front of my Carolina cousins.
My uncles gawked like hell, but a real Southern cousin, I
agreed to tour the town with her. Ms. Midler
asked to see the local sights, other
than relatives.

She knew about the tiny tail end of a train purchased by the eminent textile Springs
family, which made linens, especially sheets. Parked
on a side railroad spur, the small red caboose
done all in Springs’ blue, held a bar,
chairs, sofas, and memorabilia.

Inside the tight space of the tiny caboose, holding my sweaty hand, Bette sashayed
around. She giggled and pranced like a ditzy diva. Her hazel eyes
danced like dice on a marble dais. Bette was taken
by a display of Springs’ risqué
advertisements.

The sketches show nubile maidens and Native American studs lounging suggestively
on beds. One reads, A Buck Well Spent on a Springmade Sheet.
Another says, Protect Your Assets. She cooed as I
flushed and tried to withdraw my
sweat-soaked hand.

She reigned me in. Both in the moment, we were transfixed, imaging her as a Springs
maiden. Still holding my moist hand as tightly as if I were one
of her pet poodles, she led me outside
into the cool
countryside.

© 2006 Earl J. Wilcox