NEW STORY TITLE: THE HOT LIST (Erotica)
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I was at our neighborhood Wal-Mart doing what I hated most, waiting. My wife was in the salon having her hair done. The same woman had been doing her hair for fifteen years, and when she moved Pam followed. I had looked at the lawn and garden, the clothes, and sporting goods areas, and was running out of things to hold my interest. I walked by the salon, she was getting the finishing touches done.
She saw me and mouthed “20 minutes”. I nodded and pointed towards the door, indicating I would wait outside.
I passed the greeter, you know the old guy who welcomes people and checks reciepts, when I heard someone say:
“Will, aren’t you going to say hello?”
It was Sam Dennison, my old neighbor and long time financial planner.
“Sam, hi. What are you doing? I know the economy has taken a hit, but this? Why?”
“One simple word, Will. Boredom. I got tired of waiting for people to come and see me so I took this job. You know how it is in this small town, if you want to see someone bad enough go stand by the door of the Wal-Mart, they’ll pass by eventually. I get to see all my old friends and get paid at the same time.”
“Same old Sam, figuring out how to do something you want and get paid too.”
We laughed and talked over old times. Sam and his wife Sarah had lived two doors down from us for twenty years. They were the oldest of all the neighbors, both in their early sixties. They had never had children, but quickly became grandparents by proxy to all the neighborhood kids. There was always milk, cookies, and a sympathetic ear, especially from Sarah. She never worked outside the home and was always available.
We used to joke lovingly that the good values instilled in our collective children that we got credit for actually came from Sam and Sarah.
Sam was about nine months from retirement and Sarah was busily planning the things he had always
promised when tragedy struck. She developed a dry hacking cough that wouldn’t go away.
After about three weeks she finally went to the doctor. He ordered tests. The results were bad. Lung cancer, third stage.
She lasted three months. The heart went out of Sam with her death. He stayed in the neighborhood for another nine months, but couldn’t stand the memories. He put the house up for sale and bought a condo in an upscale retirement community across town.
Of all his old neighbors I was the one who saw him the most because he was still my financial planner. When he retired he kept ten or twelve of his oldest clients, mostly because we begged him
While we were talking I noticed three old guys, retirees probably, sitting on one of the benches
in the entry area. They were having a fierce discussion and comparing notes from pads they all carried.
“What’s up with that, Sam?”
I was surprised when he told me what they were doing.
“Oh, those are some of my neighbors from the retirement village. This is their day to do the Hot Lists.”
“I have to ask, what’s a hot list?”
“That my boy, is girl watching in the purest form.
They pick a woman coming in or going out, and rate them using a system developed by John, a retired actuary. It’s actually quite complicated.”
“Sounds like they need a hobby.”
“Will, this is their hobby. Think about it, there are worse ways to spend an afternoon than looking at attractive women.”
A rare moment of inspiration seized me.
“Sam, how would you and your friends like to have lunch on me?”
“I know that there is no such thing as a free lunch, Will. What would we have to do?”
“Exactly what they’re doing now. Pam should be coming through here any minute. I want them to rate her, and I’d like to see the results.”
“I don’t know, Will. I don’t think they want anybody to know what they are doing.”
“Relax. I give you my word that I won’t out them to anyone. I’m just curious, and I won’t share the information with anyone.”
“I’ll ask. Free lunch should help though. Anywhere we want to eat?”
“Anywhere within reason. Just call me to set it up.”
He nodded and motioned the guys over. They were in intense discussion when I left.
Two weeks went by before I heard from Sam.
He called and said he had my results if I was interested. I told him to name the place and time.
His cronies had discussed this beforehand, and I was instructed to be at Hooters by one Saturday.
I was told not to be late, or I would be on the hook for the bar bill too.
I was there by 12:45 and was already behind by one round.
“Will, these are the boys. Let’s eat before we get started.”
I didn’t know old guys could eat that many wings.
Finally they were gorged. After the waitress cleaned up the mess and brought yet another round Sam turned the meeting over to his buddy Joe.
“First, has Sam explained the whole thing to you?”
“No, not a thing.”
“All right, Here’s how it started. Jim and I took our wives to Wal-Mart about two years ago, and heck, you’re married, you know what that means.
After about 45 minutes of intense discussion over whether mauve or puce towels would match the bathroom decor best, we retreated to the benches.”
“We had been there about five minutes when a woman walked in and Jim made a comment about what a nice rack she had. I countered by pointing out that is was impressive, but her butt was a little flat so it detracted from the overall package.
I pointed out a young lady that had an almost perfect bottom, but was flatchested. From there it escalated.”
“Suddenly we were on the one to ten scale. Yes, her breasts were around a 7, but her butt only rates a 5. Pretty face and hair, rank it about a 7
Over all a, a solid 6 and 2/3 out of 10.”
“We went back home and happened to mention our comparisons to our regular group at the clubhouse that night. Well, the scientific minds went to work, factored in a bunch of variables we hadn’t even considered, and over a period of time it evolved to this.”
He lay a small notebook on the table. It held 3 X 5 index cards that had been printed with a form I couldn’t decipher.
“We put in code form. After all, it wouldn’t do for the store manager to look over our shoulders
and see us checking spaces marked ‘ass’, or ‘boobs’. Let me explain it to you.”
“See this column? It’s ‘bu’ for butt. This one is ‘br’, for breasts. This ‘f’ is for face, the ‘h’ is for hair, ‘l’ is for legs, ‘o’ is for overall physical presence, ‘pro’ is for projection, ‘pre’ is presence. This column has ‘a’, ‘b’, and for ‘c’. A is 18 to 30 years old, B is for 35 thru 45, and C is 45 to 60.”
He paused for dramatic effect, then he put a card in front of me.
“This is your compilated list of your wifes’ score. If you want we can explain it in detail.”
I nodded my assent.
“First, let me get the one we all missed badly. We all put her in the 30 to 45 age group. one of us guessed 41, one 43, and the other at 39. Imagine our surprise to learn she’s 52. She was a solid 8 overall, but after finding her age we moved her to the correct age section and it bumped her rating up to 8. 5.”
They grinned at me.
“To sum it up, you have a damn fine looking wife, probably the best we’ve ever seen in her age group. Her hair was nice, she’s got a really pretty face, and her proportions were almost perfect. But the deciding factor that put her so high was her presence.”
“Some women project. They act or dress to gather attention. Some women have presence, they gather attention by just being who they are. You’re wife is among those. Treasure her, she’s a rare gem.”
I nodded, overcome by sudden emotion.
Gathering myself, I thanked them for their time, promised to keep the secret safe and left.