Hot Cleveland Night

The other night I’m out at a pool match when my girlfriend whispers in my ear that she’s “pulling a Tam”. She has her panties in her purse and she’s meeting her boyfriend in his car. I laugh because to her “pulling a Tam” refers to getting it on in the front seat of my pickup truck – a recent event that, had it not been so sexy and hot – would have been wildly hilarious. I have the world’s smallest truck; it takes real dedication to successfully copulate in its front seat.

It reminds me of a different story…

It is our last night in the most boring city on earth, and we’re sitting at an outside table at a brew pub. What Cleveland lacks in ambiance, ethnic diversity, and good food, it makes up in vast quantities of high-quality micro brew. Not only are they delicious, they are also cheap, and we have taken full advantage in order to entertain ourselves in the sleepy city.

The restaurant is packed, both inside and out. A full table of gentlemen sit in the window overlooking us. I flirt and ogle him sitting across from me, in this perfect moment able to forget the embarrassment of being called by his ex-girlfriend’s name as we checked into the hotel. Able to forgive him avoiding having his picture taken with me at the Christmas Story house. Able to forget the painful fight that kicked off this trip, when he pulled up to my Brooklyn apartment forty minutes before me and nearly turned around because I made him wait.

I stare into his eyes as I slowly and carefully wriggle out of my black lace panties and ball them up in my fist. A crowded café, a packed restaurant, and no one, not even he, suspects what I am doing.

“Give me your hand.” He reaches under the table and I place them in his waiting fingers. He grins. My head is spinning, and it isn’t the beer – I am drunk on him. I can hardly walk straight on our way back to the hotel. We hardly make it in the door before my dress hits the carpet.

Naturally, Cherry Hill called and broke up with me the following night, after depositing me back in Brooklyn. 

I suppose you could say “pulling a Tam” does not just hold reference to sex in automobiles or removing your panties in public; it’s also synonymous with falling in love with men who are not ready for a relationship.

Despite his objections to the obvious, Not Just a Fling Guy is giving me indications that though he is willing, he might not be ready, and I hope I’m not about to “pull a Tam” of my own.