LETTERS From CAMP Rehoboth |
CAMP Talk |
by Bill Sievert |
Sawdust Memories Excerpt Four: Diana DeLight finds what lies beneath Rusty almost didn't accept the job at Sawdust Mills because of its rural location. "From what I can tell, puttin'-on-the-Ritz has an entirely different meaning here in cracker country," he had told Diana during their contract-negotiation meeting. "I'm not sure a hot cup o' mocha such as myself can successfully swap her frappucino ways for a can of spit-warm beer." "At least you won't be peddling gangsta rap," Diana said. "And I have it on good authority that management may soon install a cappuccino machine in the Cheesy Wiz Snack Salon." "Can we put that in my contract?" "You can be the second name on my petition." "Oh, but for lack of funds I'd be off to San Francisco in a New York minute. That's where Dusty Rose truly belongs." "Excuse me!" Diana demanded, sweeping back her crimson hair and pursing her pink lips. "Before you break into the theme from 'Green Acres,' this is a gay campground, and we're not all rubes around here. Our little resort may be located in the sticks, but you'll be surprised how many sophisticates count themselves among our members. Why, our weekend residents include a New York Supreme Court justice, a former professional football player, and even one of Martha Stewart's stockbrokers." "Hmm, I like stockbrokers..." "What's more, as for safety, we have a full-time guard five nights a week." "Five nights?" "Well, he has to have a couple evenings off. We just don't tell anyone which ones." "That's comforting." "Have you met our security chief, Sal Minella? He doesn't carry a gun; Florida won't issue him a permit because of something that happened back in Jersey. But he does have a can of mace and a baton, which he keeps in his authentic police holster. Just don't take it personally if he reaches for the holster whenever he sees you. He tends to rub on it a lot." "I'm feeling safer by the minute." "Good. Now, in the unlikely event that you should have an unfortunate run-in with a redneck, we offer our employees an extraordinary medical plan. You might want to look this over." Diana handed Rusty a booklet, which the singer quickly scanned, shrieking when she got to an insert near the back. "Oh, my God!" "I thought you might find that section of particular interest," Diana said. "It's a brand new benefit." "I didn't think any insurance policies covered reassignment surgery." "Almost none do. But we have the same underwriter that insures the City of San Francisco's employees. And with a little finagling, we got pretty much the same policy the transgender workers recently won there. We have 'ins' everywhere, you know." "Apparently! You know, Diana, I'll need some time off now and then." "I've already suggested to the owners that they should be prepared for your periodic absences. Their only concern is the impact the hormones might have on your voice. I informed them that a good singer is a good singer, period." "When I asked my doctor in Tampa, she told me that the worst that might happen is that I'd lose Snoop Dogg and pick up Wayne Newton." "Fair trade." "By the way, Diana, didn't someone tell me you're a singer, too?" "Mostly just karaoke, but I've done a couple of talent shows here at the camp." "What do you like to sing?" "A little of this, a little of thatanything from Patsy Cline to Whitney." Diana volunteered a few lines of "Saving All My Love for You." "Ooh, that's nice, girl," Rusty said with a swoon. "You and me, we could make some mighty fine harmony together." "I don't doubt that for a minute." "Matter of fact, if you don't mind playin' second fiddle to a change-in-progress, I'd like to invite you to become the lead member of Miss Dusty Rose's new backup group. I plan to call them the Dust Bunnies." "I like it," Diana said. "And, yes, I'd be delighted. Do I get a share of the tips?" "We'll work something out, Miss Diana DeLight. Let's start rehearsing as soon as I move into my cabin... It does have a walk-in closet for my gowns, doesn't it?" "Well, I could have the boys deliver an oversized rubber shed." "Soon I shall no longer have need of a shed for my oversized rubbers." They both giggled, and Diana found herself curiously, increasingly attracted to Dusty Roseand to Rusty Rhodes. Tall and baby-faced, with hair pulled back in a tight ponytail, the new employee was dressed for the interview in a suitably androgynous ensemble of baggy blue jeans with a rose embroidered on the butt, black cowboy boots and blousy white pirate's shirt. What a handsome woman, Diana told herself, and what a pretty man! At age 42, Diana thought she had explored nearly all that human sexuality has to offer, and despite her unwavering allegiance to the sample bottles on the cosmetics counter at Burdine's department store, she had grown increasingly confident in her lesbianism. She was just an average dyke"though prettier than some," she would saywho occasionally liked to wriggle with a live male. Rusty was much younger14 years her junior, according to the employment applicationand, upon their first visit to the pool, Diana was impressed with the well-toned physique of her new performance partner. As someone whose freckly skin burned easily, the social director couldn't help but notice how the singer's buttery cocoa complexion glowed in the emphasis of a banana-yellow two-piece. But the bikini emphasized something else, too. "You know, Dusty, you need to start living the role of a woman full-time. That means no more using the men's room..." "Absolutely," said Dusty moving to the deep end of the pool. "...And you'll obviously want to avoid such activities as skinny dipping..." But it was too late. Rusty popped out of her bikini top and dropped its bottom as she leapt headfirst into the water. "Look!" cried one of the men at the deck bar, departing from the camp's official policy of nonchalance. "She's bigger than the Statue of David." "And she's mine," Diana told herself, marveling at the magnitude of what lie beneath. "Mine all mine." (This excerpt of "Sawdust Memories" is copyright 2006-2007 by William A. Sievert, who can be reached at billsievert@earthlink.net. Publisher inquiries welcome.) |
LETTERS From CAMP Rehoboth, Vol. 17, No. 9 July 13, 2007 |