I turned from him and walked away. I usually wasn’t so close to violence, but all day I had been reliving my childhood. I hated all that had happened to me but it made me what I was. The world was lucky I wasn’t a serial killer, some days I just had a hair trigger.
That night I was suffering. I went home and got into bed, I considered taking one of the pain pills I had laying around. If I did that I would get to sleep much easier, but then I would also become dependent on them. So I got back out of bed and went to the net. Once there I went into a chat room and found a woman, with whom to chat. She was the one who was a little intelligent and who had an imagination. Then I simply became someone else for a while. I rubbed my clit and imagined myself as the daughter of a prostitute. It was an interesting bit of play acting. It was also crazy erotic and harmless.
The story line was that the mother and I were a team and worked in a convention town. I was seventeen in the play acting and my mother was forty. We had sex in the same room and even helped each other with difficult customers. It took over an hour to orgasm sufficiently to take the edge of my mood. In the end I spasmed continually for several minutes. Afterward I fell almost instantly asleep.
When I awoke the next day, I rode the bike around town for two hours. I didn’t keep track of the mile. Just as when I ran, I rode for time, not distance. Which made it a lot more fun to ride. I could cover the whole downtown of County Seat in a few minutes which left me to ride out into the county.
When I got back from the ride, I took a bath in the claw foot tub, then dressed for the day. I wore jeans and a tee shirt. My small breasts stood up so I didn’t bother with a bra. I went into the county for the once a month flea market at the old drivein theater. Why there had ever been a drivein theater located in Warren County, no one ever satisfactorily explained to me. But it had been abandoned long before I came to town.
Once a month there was an assembly of county craftsman and peddlers. It was that weekend, so I was taking advantage of it. Summer was coming according to the calendar, so I started to think about what I would do with my off duty hours. I was interested in a hobby that was inexpensive and fun. Mary Ellen’s gig was both, but it was dangerous and not something I could do on a moment’s notice.
I had no idea I had an interest in fishing until I met Horace. Horace was the man in Warren for all things fishing. First of all he bought and sold fishing rods. He had quite an assortment of rods both new and used. The came with and without reels. Horace sold the tackle that made the rods usable instantly. Oh yeah, one other thing, Horace also sold bait. He was there for all things fishing, I’m telling you.
So I walked around thinking and finally decided that I wanted to fish. I had been fishing as a kid with my grand dad, and I thought it would be a good way to spend some of my spare time. So Horace first proposed a telescoping rod complete with small reel and line. I vetoed that idea, but he did sell me an assortment of hooks and bobbers. I took along a booklet on raising worms for fish bait.
When I got home I decided to call around to the stores. I found what I wanted at home depot in Dobson. They carried a driveway marker that stuck into the ground. It was made from fiberglass and was 4‘ long. They sold for about $2.29 or so. I ran to Dobson and bought four of them. I also bought a couple of 3/8 pipe nipples. I could somehow make them a coupler for the driveway markers.
I also bought a roll of mason’s nylon twine to use as line. I had a lot of little work to do in order to be fishing the next day. I had decided that I wanted to be fishing on Sunday. I should be out getting laid on a Saturday night, I thought as I worked on the fishing pole instead.
My plan to put two of the driveway marker poles together didn’t work out so well. So instead I used the one as the rod then I used the nippled to attach a handle. I was able to increase the length of the pole to well over six feel without harming it’s action any. The stiffness was added at the base which was acceptable.
I used two radiator clamps to attach a cheap reel to the small fiberglass pole I had made. It appeared to be acceptable, so Sunday morning I drove to the city reservoir to try it out. My grandfather had bread bread as bait and it worked. Not as well as worms I admit, but I mostly wanted to waste time anyway.
I checked in with the city ranger and as a county employee there was no charge to fish. So I sat down with a cardboard cup of coffee to give it a try. The bread worked okay, of course the people using real bait did much better, Sunday wasn’t really a religious day for me, but I did try to be careful on it. I also had to go into work at 8PM that night, so I wasn’t going to do anything else that might be time consuming that day anyway.
Since the reservoir was near the house I measured the real distance of the drive with my car. The Toyota odometer measured it as five miles more or less. That seemed like a reasonable distance for a bike ride out. So next time I would have to work on finding a way to fish with only what would fit on a bike. I was already thinking about it.
I decided that I could carry three extra hooks and line in a small fruit juice can. The bobbers would fit in it as well. The six foot rod would be the real problem. I couldn’t compress it down to a size to easily fit on the bike. The truth is while I worked on the problems associated with fishing from a bike, I wasn’t thinking about my abused childhood, or the beating I had taken at work recently. It was my kind of therapy.
“Hey lady you catching anything,” the very redneck looking fisherman asked with a smile.
“I think I might be coming down with a cold,” I said and laughed.
“Well what you using for bait,” he asked.
“Loaf bread, I used to use it as a kid with my grandfather. To tell you the truth, I don’t think he wanted to catch anything. Mostly, he wanted to get me away from my parents, I think.” I said.
“Well here try this handful of grubs. You should catch something with them,” he said.
It was obvious that if I had been a man I would have been fishing with my grandfather’s dough not the stranger’s grubs. I kind of liked the idea of not buying bait. I could just bring bread and let people give me bait. I laughed quietly at the thought. Yes I found it a interesting idea.
I sat there Sunday from 10AM until 4PM, then I went home mostly because the temperature was falling with the setting sun. I had caught half a dozen Perch, but nothing of any real size. I threw them all back to help keep the fish population up. It was a good place to fish, I wanted it to stay that way.
There was a couple of oriental families that were fishing there. I had noticed them the day before when I scouted the place as well. I wondered how often they fished at the reservoir. When the park ranger came by, I introduced myself to her. I asked her more than one of those type questions.
She was very helpful, she even told me I could leave me rod at the lake, if I wanted to bicycle out. I wouldn’t be the only one who did it, but I had to have a case of some kind for it, so they knew whose was whose. The case could be anything at all, but it had to have a label. My rod was homemade and looked it, but I planned to get some fabric that looked like leather, Then I would just roll it up in it. I was able to carry the reel and tackle can on the bike, so I was just took the reel off and rolled the rod up in the fake leather.
I got home from the laked in time to sit on the tiny stool in the bathtub and wash till I felt clean. It was no easy chore to manage, since I had grub filth under my nails. I didn’t mind I had passed several hours without any thought of work or my crazy personal life. It had been a successful day in my opinion.
I stopped by the cafe at the plaza and got a sandwich before reporting to work. I assumed Learner ate his wife’s cooking before he came to work. Either way both of us went until midnight before we stopped for breakfast. Learner was never at the station when I arrived. That either meant, I was always early, or he was always late. I am assuming I was early since he still had a job.
“Porter, what you up to these days?” the duty sergeant asked. It was a harmless question, but I had a second of panic. I didn’t know what to answer, then I got control of myself. Once I was under control I answered him.
“Not really anything, but working. I just took up fishing, why?” I asked.
“My brother in law saw you out at the reservoir this weekend. He said you were the poorest looking fishermen there.” the sergeant said with a laugh.
“I might be the poorest,” I agreed. “I went to have a little fun, not to impress your brother in law.”
“That is true, I’m sure. Anyway you are a big hit out there. Not too many women go out there, and none who dress like you.” he said.
“Oh and how is it that I dress?” I asked.
“He said you were going braless,” the sergeant said.
“I go braless here. It’s no big thing,” I said.
“Yes Porter, but here you wear a Kevlar vest over them puppies,” he said with a laugh.
“Okay, so you are telling me there is something sexual about a tee shirt and jeans on a fisherman?” I asked.
“Porter there is, if that fisherman is you. Hell, if it is anyone even close to as good looking as you. You should know what your naked breast do to men?” he made it a question.
“Yeah, I know what it does, but I didn’t think men would noticed when I was fishing,” I said.
“Men always notice a good looking chick without a bra Porter,” he said.
“Okay sergeant, I’ll keep that in mind,” I said.
“Porter, honest to god you really should. On duty you can’t tell anything, but you should be aware of the impression you make when you aren’t working,” he said.
“Sergeant, it is just now becoming noticeable. I have been wearing parkas and field jackets up till now.” I said.
“Just be aware,” he said.