::  Redefining Teenaged Gestalt from the Back of a ‘76 Caddy ::

AN: While I wrote this before Hail and Farewell, I sort of figured we might need something to get that disastrous episode out of our heads for the summer at least. This is a silly little story in what may or may not be continued in other fantasies. There’s no angst. Some Harm bashing (much less than he deserves for what he said in H&F. Baby deal indeed!)

The label on the package was plain and white. There was no hint as to who the sender might be. He was just turning the package over for further inspection when he sensed that he wasn’t alone. Leaning back in his chair, he saw his young assistant hovering in the doorway.

"Mr. Webb, it was okay to leave it in here wasn’t it? The first floor cleared it for delivery," she anxiously assured him.

"Yes, you did just fine. Now go get some lunch. I believe I can survive on my own ‘til you get back." He smiled, but she knew she’d just been ordered out of the room.

"Yes, sir. Is there anything I can bring…?" The young woman stopped herself when she realized that her boss was totally absorbed in examining the small, brown package. "Yes, Mr. Webb. Thank you."

Pulling out a penknife, Webb sliced through the strapping tape and carefully opened the top flaps of the box. Tossing the plastic packaging bubble onto his desk, he noticed a folded piece of paper clinging to its side. Ignoring it for the moment, Webb pulled a battered key chain from the box. Faded gold lettering spelled out F-A-N-T-A-S-Y R-E-N-T-A-L-S.

"What the hell?"

Flipping over the metal fob, he frowned as he read, 1-9-7-6 E-L D-O-R-A-D-O.

Gripping the fob in his fist, he fished around for the folded note he’d removed earlier: "Leesburg Drive-In. Friday Night. Get there early for a spot in the back row. Dress accordingly."

Leaning back, he wondered what Sarah had cooked up now. Two weeks ago, she’d insisted that he accompany her on a dinner with some of her JAG friends. While he’d known most of them for a couple of years, it had been the first time that he’d mixed with them socially. It was also the first time he’d had to confront her legal partner over a personal matter.

Webb still couldn’t believe the conversation Harriet Sims had started as they sat around the table at McMurphy’s. Who would have thought that the sweet, demure ensign had such a colorful past?

"I heard that the Rialto Drive-In in Leesburg is hosting a summer of retro movies," she’d excitedly announced.

"So?" Rabb had countered.

"Wouldn’t it be exciting to relieve those…experiences?"

"What experiences?" Clay still couldn’t figure out why he’d jumped in with that question. Rabb had latched on to it with a vengeance.

"Oh, come on Webb! Surely you remember what goes on at a drive-in?"

"Give it a rest, flyboy," Sarah had jumped in. "Just because you lost your virginity there doesn’t mean all of us have your fond memories."

"Lose it? Nah." Rabb had smirked at his date before answering. "But there were definite advantages to driving Frank’s LeSabre instead of my Gremlin." The smirk turned into a knowing leer. "Lots more room in the backseat." The blond blushed but he ignored it. "What about you guys. Admit it. You did it at the drive-in, didn’t you?"

Harriet had eagerly nodded. "It was the year before they tore down the Sunset. We saw The Empire Strikes Back."

"You mean it was on the screen," Harm sniggered.

"We did see it!" Harriet blushed as she defended herself, then conceded, "Parts of it anyway. At least up until Han Solo kissed Princess Leia." Harriet sighed. "That was so romantic."

"Oh, my God!" Bud chimed in. "Me too. I mean we went to see Empire, too. In Norfolk! I’d just finished paying off my VW," he’d added excitedly. Webb remembered thinking that the graying lieutenant was going to start bouncing in his seat.

"You did it in the back of a VW?" Harm demanded, actually impressed.

"Well, not the backseat – and it was really just some heavy petting." Clay smiled at memory of how red Roberts’ face had become at the admission.

"What about you," Bud had hastily shot back at Harm. "We know in what, but when and where?"

"Funny you should mention the Sunset – that was our favorite one as well." He’d wriggled his eyebrows at Harriet. "But in LaHoya, not Naples. And the movie was Love Story."

At Mac’s derisive snort and rolled eyes, Harm’d struck out. "Do you even remember any of your make-out sessions?" he’d sneered, dredging up her wild, alcohol-driven teen years.

Webb had been hard pressed to control his immediate anger. He could still see the shock and embarrassment on his lover’s face. Their hushed, nighttime revelations had included their teenaged years. Neither of them had happy memories of them.

Before he could decimate Rabb with a few choice words – or at least cold-cock him - Carolyn Imes had hastily filled in the awkward silence with her own hilarious story of back seat sex in a vintage Woody. Thinking that the conversation was over, Webb had begun whispering some suggestions into Sarah’s ear.

Rabb, perhaps needing to goad him into a similar slip of tongue, had demanded, "What about you, Webb? Was it in the backseat of a Bentley? Weren’t there any drive-ins in Great Falls? Did the chauffeur drive you to some foreign film?" Webb hadn’t taken his eyes off Mac.

"Too good to answer?" Harm pressed.

Webb grew angry all over again at the memory. Why he allowed Rabb to get under his skin was still a mystery. He’d known that Rabb would give him grief about dating Sarah. He’d even taken that into consideration before asking her out for the first time. That she’d said yes had been a surprise. That she continued to do so – whenever they were in town at the same time – was a constant source of amazement and joy.

Leaning back in his seat, he’d ticked off the points. "A. There was no drive-in in Great Falls, but there was one in Prince George’s County. B. We’ve NEVER owned a Bentley. And C. When I entertain a woman – even in my teen years – I always choose something more… private…than a drive-in movie." He’d tried for disdained haughtiness. Rabb had nailed him to the cross.

"You never did it in the back seat of a car? What kind of stuck-up snob were you, Webb? Oh wait! You went to an all-boys’ prep school, didn’t you? I guess…"

"That’s enough, Harm!" Sarah had stood up and, after giving her partner a pitying look, turned to her date. "Walk me home, Clay?"

"Hey! I didn’t mean…" But the damage was done and Harm had very effectively called Webb’s manhood into question – much like it had been in question during his high school years.

Sitting forward and forcing the memories away, Clay deliberately fingered the key she’d sent. Feeling much better all of a sudden, he picked up the phone.

"MacKenzie."

"It’s me."

"You get my little present?"

"Yeah."

There was a long silence before she continued. "You up for making some memories at the drive-in, spook?"

"A ’76 El Dorado?"

"Yeah, I rented it for the weekend."

"Really? You plan on camping out at a drive-in?"

"I figure we could drive to the coast after the movie. It’s a convertible."

"Sounds like a plan. What time should I pick you up?"

She laughed. "I’ll meet you there. Park it and sit on the hood. Oh, and spook, don’t wear the three-piece uniform. I mean it."

He was surprised at her vehemence. "Do you have a request?" he asked dryly.

"Well, it’s going to be hot, so wear shorts." She laughed softly. "But, most importantly, dress like you would have in high school. You know how much I love button fly jeans. Find cutoffs."

He groaned at the thought and didn’t have the heart to tell her that he’d never worn cut-off in high school. "So where do I pick up the car?"

"It’s at your house right now." And with that, she hung up.

He shut down his computer, said goodbye to his assistant and ran out of the building. Traffic was status quo on the Beltway and as he crept home, he found himself terribly excited by the thought of doing something this simple and wonderful with Sarah.

They’d exchanged keys months ago. He still hadn’t worked up the courage to ask her to move in with him. In fact, she showed no signs of needing that commitment from him. They were both busy. Right now they were happy with the way the relationship was blossoming.

As he pulled into the driveway, Clay used the automatic opener to raise the door to his garage. A bright gold Cadillac was sitting there. "Dear God, it’s a boat!" he exclaimed as he checked it out. It was in pristine condition. The interior was white leather.

"Hell, you could host a cocktail party in there. His cock stirred at the images the backseat was already conjuring up. Slamming the car door shut, he stepped back and considered the possibilities. He liked the possibilities. Running inside, he threw his briefcase on the couch, booted up his computer and began a search. Twenty minutes and a phone call later, he was back in his two-seater. As much as he wanted to, he wouldn’t drive the Caddy until Friday night.

He headed back into the city. The owner of the vintage clothing store had agreed to stay open late. Clay outfitted himself as quickly as possible, fending off the fawning attentions of the flamboyant owner. Grabbing take out, he returned home to see if he could gather more intel. Sitting before his computer again, he entered a Google-search for the drive-in. He was pleasantly surprised by the website and spent a delightful hour reading about the revitalization program that had designated the drive-in as symbol of local history. The owners had invested quite a bit of time, money and personal commitment in bringing the sixty year-old business back to its full glory. While they did book some first-run films throughout the season, it seemed that they’d struck a chord with running films that anyone could rent for a couple of bucks at the video store – or watch on AMC for free. Clay’s cursor hovered over the link of ‘Coming Events’ but he knew she wanted to surprise him. Satisfied, he shut down the computer, deciding to just go with the flow.

That Friday, while driving down to Leesburg, he worried about the details. What did she want out of the evening? Would he live up to her expectations? Or was he just too mature to actually make out in the backseat of a car? What exactly did making out mean to her? They were too old for this, weren’t they? They would be the only ones there over the age of twenty – or worse – under the age of sixty. Who did this kind of stuff? And, how the hell was Sarah getting there? Why hadn’t she wanted to drive down with him? What devious little plan had she cooked up for him?

From two blocks away he saw the marquee, in all its neon glory:

Come Relive the Seventies.

Classic Car Show – Two Great 70’s Hits

"Live and Let Die"

"The Spy Who Loved Me."

He groaned but pulled into one of the three long lines of cars snaking their way around to the entrance.

The girl in the ticket both peered over at him, then into the car. "Are you here for the car show?"

"No. Just the movie."

She rolled her eyes and glared at him. "Aren’t you a little old for this?"

"Huh?" he blushed. Why would she think that? While waiting his turn, he’d noticed that many of the occupants of the cars around him were people his age.

"Sir! We’re trying to make a profit here."

"Excuse me?" Now he was completely confused.

"You’re going to have to get your friends out of the trunk. Sheesh!"

"Wha…?" He blushed once he realized that a mere slip of a girl thought that Clayton Webb, son of Porter, child of wealth and privilege, would stoop so low as to sneak people into a DRIVE-IN. This wasn’t a border crossing in Iraq. Even as a teenager, he’d never done such a thing. Rabb had probably done it every time he went. However, the thought that she would think he was some kind of pervert who would arrive alone at a drive-in was even more daunting. If he hadn’t talked to Mac beforehand he would have suspected Rabb of being behind the whole thing. He still half-way expected the JAG lawyer to jump out from behind the movie screen and laugh his ass off. Pulling out a fifty, Webb leaned out the window. "Will this cover it? I don’t want to spoil their fun."

"Oh, brother! How many are there?"

"Just three. They’re reliving their childhoods."

She carefully counted out his change, shook her head in resigned disgust, and gave him instructions on using his FM radio to get the sound for the movie.

He followed the stream of cars into the huge, open lot. In the center sat a brightly painted cinderblock building. Cars were rapidly claiming the choice spots, directly in front of the concession stand. The vintage car show entries filled up the front rows. He knew the car he was driving would be welcomed. However, that wasn’t why he was here tonight.

The back row was rapidly filling up. He almost panicked, but he found a spot between a pickup truck with oversized wheels and an old VW mini bus with windows only in the front.

He’d lucked upon the perfect place for them to engage in…whatever it was she wanted to do in the backseat of this vintage Caddy. Backing in to the spot, he maneuvered the car until it rested just perfectly for them to watch the movie. God, he hoped she didn’t just want to watch the movie.

Turning off the motor, he shoved open the heavy driver’s side door and climbed out. The humid twilight was wonderful. The sounds of laughter, combined with a myriad of musical styles, played homage to a bygone era that had already been dying during his childhood.

Leaning against the fender, Clay breathed in a slightly buttery aroma and took in the sights. He recognized most of the late model cars. Almost every type of car, from a Lexus to some Japanese hybrids, was present. He was surprised that he could still name the Torinos and the GTOs from twenty and thirty years ago. Many of the people were dressed in the more ridiculous fashion statements from the sixties and seventies. The image of an impossibly young Harmon Rabb, dressed in a polyester floral print shirt and leisure suit put a smile on Clay’s face. He glanced down at the most sedate outfit he’d been able to find. Both the shorts and the shirt were polyester. However, the shorts were tan and the shirt, while sporting four pockets, was a green and tan plaid. "Should meet the specs," he silently assured himself.

Clay spotted her right away. Gone was the by-the-book Marine. She was a goddess - definitely no teenager - for which he was grateful. The cut-off jeans were just shy of being Daisy Dukes; the red-and-white checked halter-top protected and accentuated her breasts, hitting just below them and exposing a glorious amount of midriff. Simple espadrilles gave her walk just the right amount sway. He knew it was wrong, but he felt a measure of possessive pride as at least a dozen men stopped what they were doing to watch her walk down the aisle. Sarah was balancing a cardboard tray while she sashayed towards him. No doubt the tray held the constant nourishment he’d come to expect from her.

He decided then and there that he would do whatever she wanted – for the rest of his life. "Hi," he greeted her.

She stood there looking him up and down. He immediately felt like he’d disappointed her. "No way was I getting the Saturday Night Fever suit," he said with some asperity.

She set the tray down on the hood of the car and stepped into his space. Reaching up, she quickly unbuttoned his shirt, letting it hang open. She sighed in contentment. "That’s better."

"But I didn’t wear a tee," he pointed out. He NEVER went bare-chested except at the beach.

She gave him a lopsided smile. "Yeah, but I like it." She leaned in and chastely kissed him. "You look right in part, Clay. Thank you." She picked up a soda, handed it to him, and picked up her own. Taking a long sip, she leaned against the fender, her hip snugly against his. "Do you like the Caddy?"

"It took some getting used to after the Mercedes. And I could actually watch the gas gauge go down. But it’s a comfortable ride. Lots and lots of room."

"You noticed that, huh?"

"Oh, yeah." He looked over at her and inhaled her scent. It was more intoxicating than any drug or liquor he could imagine. "So…how did you get here? Cab?"

"I wanted to make a grand entrance. I rode in with Harriet and Bud."

"They came here? With their baby?"

She looked at him pityingly. "They do occasionally use a babysitter." An evil grin appeared on her face. "I believe they asked Uncle Harm to do the honors."

"So he’s not lurking around to offer commentary?"

Her look turned serious. "You think I would do that to you, Clay?"

He took a sip of his soda before answering. He could tell he was making her nervous. "No. I know you wouldn’t. I’m sorry."

"Are you sure you’re comfortable with this?" she finally asked.

"I can’t think of any woman I would even consider needing…"

"Needing?"

"Yeah. I think you and I need to replace bad memories with good ones."

"But at dinner you said you never did this. You did?" she asked incredulously, perhaps even with a touch of anger.

"Just once. She was a friend of a friend. I thought we were going to watch Star Wars. She thought I expected her to put out. She was quite indignant when I didn’t make a move." He shrugged. "What can I tell you? She had the reputation of being one of the "good" girls. My friend neglected to tell me how she really like to go wild at the drive-in." He watched people returning to their cars while vague images began to float through the twilight, barely registering on the white screen.

Sarah slurped the last of her soda through the ice, finally responding. "Contrary to what Harm implied, my friends and I didn’t hang out at the drive-in very often. But..." her voice trailed off and he took her hand in his. She met his solemn gaze and he could see the tears forming. "Damn him," she whispered. "He always knows how to draw blood. I really DON’T remember much, just that I hated it."

Both of them generally avoided public displays of affection. Not bothering to restrain himself, Clay put both of their drinks back into the tray and pulled her to him for a long, sweet kiss. "I’ll make sure that you like it this time."

Releasing her, and pleased that she rocked a little from the amorous emotions coursing through her, he reached into the tray and pulled out the hamburgers she’d purchased. "Here, let’s eat."

As they ate, dusk turned into full night. A Tom-and-Jerry cartoon flickered across the screen; the sound track surrounding them. Fewer and fewer people were outside now, though some had brought lawn chairs and set them up in front of their cars.

He waited for Sarah to make the first move. After disposing of their trash, she took his hand and led him to the door of the car. He opened the heavy door, but she pulled the seat forward and stepped into the back seat. It was a bit of a reach, but he managed to climb in while closing the door behind him.

"There really is a lot of room back here," he pointed out as he wrapped his arm around her shoulders and allowed his hand to brush across the top of her breast. He was determined to take his time and she seemed to be in no rush. They sat there, watching the opening credits for Live and Let Die.

"Is that why you picked this drive-in?" he asked.

"Of course." She snuggled closer, resting her head on his shoulder, one of her hands caressing his bare chest. "I’m really glad you didn’t wear a tee-shirt."

"Oh, yeah." He shivered from the touch of her hand on his nipple. As she drew random patterns on his chest, he stroked her arm and buried his nose in her hair. "Have I ever told you how good you smell? I love the shampoo you use."

"You do?" She lifted her head and they shared a sweet, almost innocent kiss. "I really want this to be good, Clay. Tell me all the things we would have done at a drive-in years ago?"

"You’re doing pretty good right now," he whispered.

"Really?" she teased. "So you wouldn’t want me to go any lower?" Her hand grazed the fly of his shorts. "Hey! What’s this? A zipper?"

"When you buy vintage clothes, my dear, you take what you can get. Besides, if I had asked for button fly, the owner would have been a little too rapturous."

A bit of arched jealousy appeared in her eyes, even as she rubbed her hand against his growing erection. "She made a pass at you?"

"No…HE made a pass at me. Several, in fact."

"Oooooh. Kinky." However, the way she said it, gave Clay pause.

Cupping her breast through the inadequate gingham material, he whispered, "That turn you on, Sarah? That a man found me attractive?"

She had gradually worked down the zipper of his shorts. Before reaching inside, she met his questioning gaze with a wide smile. "One fantasy at a time, lover."

"Oh God," he groaned, not just from her touch but the image her sultry words had managed to evoke.

As she stroked his cock, he bent her back, capturing her mouth with his own. His tongue thrust into her as she fisted him. Pulling back, slightly out of breath, he moaned out a hesitant protest. "Easy baby. That feels too good." She released him and brought her hand to the back of his neck, pulling him back down for another long, delving kiss.

His cock bumped against her thigh as he pushed the material away from her breast. Rolling her nipple between his fingers, he settled back a bit to gaze at her. "You’re so lovely. I’m really glad you thought of this." He lowered his head and, using his teeth, pulled away the other half of her halter. He rubbed his jaw against her exposed breast before sucking the nipple deeply into his mouth.

"Oh Clay!" She tugged at his shorts, pulling them completely open, eager to get at him again. She toyed with his balls until he lifted up far enough for her to pull his shorts down to his knees.

Dropping her lips to his chest, she began to kiss her way down to his navel. He scooted lower, allowing her better access, all the time playing with her swaying breasts. Her hand held his cock steady while she kissed the head and gently blew across it.

"Please, Sarah."

Looking back up at him, she demanded. "Tell me, then. Say it."

He fisted her hair and, for a moment, they were locked in a playful struggle. "Suck me. Suck my cock," he begged. She allowed him to guide her mouth onto him. Though he didn’t force her, he didn’t move his hand and she slowly engulfed him until he hit the back of her throat. With one hand, she palmed his balls. With the other, she stroked that spot she’d discovered recently. It made him moan. All the while, she played her tongue over his cock, slurping at it like a rapidly melting ice cream cone one second, then leisurely lapping the entire length from balls to the slit.

"Soon, Sarah," he warned her. "Come over here and sit on my cock, baby."

He raised her up, frantically trying to free her from her skin-tight shorts. She pulled his hands away and quickly divested herself of them.

"I’ve got a better idea," she offered. Scooting back a bit, she lay back until her head rested against the side of the car. Propping one foot on the floor, she lifted her other leg to rest on the back of the car seat. Crooking a finger, she beckoned him. "C’mere double-oh-seven."

"Oh God, Sarah."

He quickly kicked his shorts out of the way; his shirt somehow ended up on the front seat. He could care less who might be watching them – let them enjoy the show. Tracking his hands over her legs, he took a deep breath. "I do love you." It was awkward, there wasn’t enough room to do it properly, but he bent down and lapped at her slit until she took him by the ears and pulled him up her body.

"I need you inside me, Clay. Let’s exorcise all those old ghosts."

He entered her as slowly as he could, but she wrapped her leg around his back and pulled him deep inside of her.

"This is a lot better than I’d ever imagined," he admitted as he pulled out and then plunged back in. He tried very hard to keep her head from ramming against the side of the car. The back seat put a different dimension to their normal lovemaking and he found a level of control that he seldom experienced.

Embracing her and holding her face against the curve of his neck, he shuddered his release, groaning mindless words of declaration. Instead of collapsing on top of her, he managed to roll them over a bit until he was resting against the back of the car with her spooned against his chest.

His post-coital stupor was interrupted when he felt her body begin to shake. "You can’t be cold."

He pulled her around until he could see the mirth on her face. "What’s so funny?"

"I was just remembering what Bud said about making out in a VW. Can you imagine trying this in the back seat of your Mercedes?"

He leaned in and nipped her nose before kissing it softly. "I don’t think I like the idea of you thinking about another man after making out with me. Particularly Roberts." He was really glad she hadn’t mentioned Rabb’s name.

She slowly returned his kiss, enjoying the taste of his lips. "Silly. I would never suggest including Bud in our love making." She arched an eyebrow at him.

"Excuse me? Does that mean you would...?"

This time the kiss was even longer, her tongue teasing his. He thought that she was trying to distract him. However, when they parted, she sighed contentedly. "Oh lover, someday I’ll consider sharing that fantasy with you.

"But who?" he demanded. He couldn’t help it. The very idea of sharing her made him jealous, but he couldn’t deny it was intriguing on some level. Several possibilities popped into his head. He knew she was watching him closely. Even though he could mask the look in his eyes, she could feel the evidence of his approval surge against her mound.

"Like I said, Clay - that’s another fantasy. So…are we actually going to watch The Spy who Loved Me?" she asked, clearly closing the subject for the time being.

"Maybe part of it." He leaned back and welcomed her into his embrace. "You bring out the teenager in me, Sarah."

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