TWIRLIES FOR GRAMMA

Ruby promised me an unforgettable Christmas if I would go home with her for the weekend to see her family. I went. I was young and horny and figured we'd be able to sneak some time alone. She was my first lover, and besides -- she was a redhead.

     I'd seen enough movies to know how it was done. Her parents would give me the guest room at the far end of the hall, well away from Ruby's bedroom. Their bedroom, of course, would be in between, and they would leave the door open just a crack. After bedtime I would tiptoe down the hall to her room, we would make love until the wee hours, fall asleep wearily in each other's arms, and with the help of her alarm I'd sneak back to my room at five a.m. I would get back just in the nick of time before the family members started their morning bathroom trips.

     The moonlit night illuminated a farmhouse and the remnants of a picket fence. It was after midnight. We dragged our suitcases into the house, dropped them in the living room, and Ruby led me to her bedroom, where we made love and fell asleep. So much for my plan.

     I was awakened by the cymbaling of two pot lids and peeked my right eye from under the covers. "I'm Loretta, Ruby's mom. Breakfast is ready. Are you going to spend all day in bed?" I pulled the cover back over my head and felt for Ruby to shake her awake. I was alone. I peeked out again. "If you don't come out of there I'm coming in," said Loretta, as she provocatively tried to lick her eyebrows. Then she snatched the blanket, leaving me too startled to even try to cover up my morning piss hard-on.

     "Bring your friend," Ruby's mother laughed, throwing me my jeans and winking. She left for the kitchen and I followed, to a breakfast of venison, home fries, eggs and Scrapple. My usual.

     "How do you like your eggs?" she asked, and without waiting for an answer put a plate down in front of me. "Well, tell me, Ruby. Was he a good lay?"

     "Pass the Scrapple," Ruby's father said, as I tried to wish myself invisible.

     Ruby, with her mouth full, said, "Damn good if you're looking for speed and accuracy."

     "Oh yeah -- like your father here." Ruby's mom cuffed her husband on the back of his neck, spilling his coffee on the newspaper. He just grinned a dummie's grin and wiped the mess. Then he lit up another Chesterfield and turned to the sports page.

     "Gramma will be here this evening and she'll take your bedroom Ruby. You two lovebirds can move to the camper in the yard--the power's all hooked up--not that you need any power. Ha ha."

    

     "You're right, Ruby," I said, lugging our gear into the camper. "This is an unforgettable Christmas and we've only had breakfast."

     "You ain't seen Christmas yet," she said, pulling her sweater over her head. Unsnapping her bra and twirling it, Ruby shimmied in front of me and said, "This afternoon when we decorate the tree is really the start of Christmas for us. We sit around tossing down shots of Jack and watch Daddy try to set the tree up by his lonesome. When the tree is finally up he gets his first drink, but not until."

     "How come?"

     "Tradition. We've been doing this since I was a little girl. Once Daddy was really swacked when he tried to put up the tree, and he kept falling and knocking it over. After that Mom made him quit drinking and go to AA. Now he only drinks on Christmas, and then, only after the tree is up."

     "After the tree is up he has himself a drink?"

     "After he gets the tree up and straight, he sits down and drinks himself stupid while Momma and I decorate. You can help, too."

     "What about AA?"

     "He goes back right after New Year's and stays sober until the next Christmas."

     "He can do that-just drink one week a year?"

     "Yep. But he says he sure does look forward to the holidays. Do you like tree decorating?"

     "I never decorated a tree before; it should be fun."

     "Never?"

     "Nope. Never."

     "How come? Would you rather sit and drink with my dad?"

     "No, I'll do the tree. How come I never decorated a tree? Because Jews don't have Christmas or Christmas trees."

     "Go on. Really? What do you have?"

     "What do you mean, what do we have?"

     "Yeah. What do you have for Christmas?"

     "Nothing. Jews don't celebrate Christmas. I thought you read that library book about Jews."

     "I read some of it, but I don't remember that part about Christmas. I never knew a Jew before except Silverberg from the furniture store."

     "Silverberg?"

     "Yeah."

     "What about him?"

     "Momma always said that Jews sure do know their furniture."

     "She's right. What else did your momma tell you about us Jews?"

     "Jump my bones," Ruby said, peeling off her Tuesday underwear, "and maybe I'll tell you."

    

     "Gramma, Ruby brought a boy home for Christmas," Loretta said, as she stood behind Ruby. I was leaning on the porch next to the open kitchen window, eavesdropping.

     "She was always bringing something home. When she was little it was stray cats and dogs. I saw the trailer light on and figured she had company. Is he nice?"

     "She went and got herself a Jew, Gramma."

     "Did you go and do that, child?" Gramma asked, shaking her head.

     "I sure did, Gramma, and he's a prize all right," said Ruby, sucking her teeth.

     Gramma said, "How do you know he's a Jew, Ruby baby?"

     "Told me."

     "Shoot. If I told you I was a Martian, would that go and make me one?" scoffed Gramma.

     Loretta stood up and walked over to her mother and put a hand on her shoulder. "He's a Jew, alright, Gramma."

     Gramma, shrugging off Loretta's hand, looked over at Ruby and asked, "Did you feel his head?"

     "Ruby done felt his everything, Gramma," laughed Loretta, slapping her thigh.

     "Well, Ruby," Gramma persisted. "did you?"

     "Of course I felt his head."

     "Did he have them?" Gramma asked, rising, "or didn't he have them?"

     "Not exactly."

     "What do you mean, not exactly? He either had them or he didn't."

     "Well, when he asked me what I was feeling his head for, and I told him I was feeling for horns, he said that before he left home the Rabbi removed them so no one would know he was a Jew."

     "I never heard about them doing that before."

     Loretta said, "He's good for Ruby and she's happy and what's more, he ain't got no call to say he's a Jew if he ain't."

     I nodded and stifled a laugh.

     "If he ain't got no horns, he ain't no Jew. What you got there, Ruby, is one of them fake Jews."

     "But Gramma. I went and got this book on Jews out from the library and it didn't say nothing about no horns."

     "Ptttoo!" Gramma spat on the floor. "Ruby, don't be stupid. That book was probably wrote by one of them Jews and he ain't gonna tell you about no horns. That's how we always have been able to tell. I don't know what's up with your fake Jew, but you best keep him away from me."

     "Gramma, you're in a pissy mood, but you just wait and see what I got you for Christmas. You'll forget all about my Jew."

    

     Early Christmas afternoon, Ruby's family began arriving laden with presents and bottled cheer. By three in the afternoon, when Christmas dinner was served, everyone was shit-faced. For dessert Loretta brought out the pies, and Ruby's dad stumbled up from the basement with the Mason jars of shine, which the men grabbed and took into the living room.

     Well into the second jar, the men started shouting for the women to come and open their presents. I was "yahooing!" along with the other guys but I didn't know why.

     The ladies filed in. Loretta straddled my legs and pulled my head down to her heavily perfumed bosom, and when I pulled my head up she gave me a long liquor kiss while she rubbed my head. Winking, she got up when Ruby's father yelled, "Presents, girls, time for presents!"

     He was sitting on the floor under the tree, calling out names and passing out presents. I didn't get a gift and then I noticed that none of the men did. One by one, the ladies ripped their packages open and held their gifts up for everyone to see.

     Ruby stood in front of me and held up bright red underpants. "Look! Crotchless! Aren't they beautiful?" I nodded and grinned, drunk but still embarrassed. Ruby opened the gift card. "Thanks, Momma. I just love them! I had you figured for candy pants again."

     "You're welcome, honey. I knew they was you as soon as I saw them."

     As the ladies opened their presents and read the cards, they thanked each other for the gifts. They were all vintage Frederick's of Hollywood, only the cheaper and gaudier versions, each one more suggestive and outrageous than the last. Only Gramma didn't show her present. Ruby whispered in her ear, and Gramma kept her present tight in her hands.

     Ruby put "Don't Take Your Love To Town" on the hi-fi and ran out of the room. The guys quieted down and then Ruby sashayed in, wearing the red crotchless see-thru panties. She danced around, smiling and joking, and finally she spun around twice and sat on my lap. Then she introduced her mother.

     Loretta wore all black. She had spiked high heels, fishnet stockings, and a baby-doll nightgown. She was doing her best bumps and grinds, but her ankles kept giving out from the three-inch heels. She collapsed near a jug and forgot to introduce the next exotic.

     Cousin Betsy came out on her own, wearing a satiny purple nightgown, very modest, but clinging to her body. She wore a knit shawl over her shoulders and kept her arms folded as she modeled. The guys were clearly disappointed but still gave her some "OOH, OOHS." Betsy turned her back and bowed. Her ass was hanging out from the cut-out in the nightgown. She turned around, and hand over hand, pulled off the shawl to show exposed boobs through the openings in the top.

     I liked Christmas.

     After Betsy, the rest of the ladies modeled their latest and everybody had a good time. Finally the big moment arrived--Gramma--introduced by Ruby.

     Gramma came out wearing a robe, which earned her a solid round of boos. She held up one hand, silencing the family, looked my way and said, "I ain't showing nothing as long as that fake Jew is sitting here in this room."

     Ruby tried to talk her into ignoring me, but I saw the crowd turning ugly. I got up and left the house. Gramma made them pull all the shades so I couldn't peek in the window. I sat on the porch drunk and dejected, but finally I got into the basement and snuck back up the stairs.

     I cracked the door a bit and there was Gramma only five feet away dancing around in an orange G- string with two orange twirlies pasted onto her nipples. She bounced up and down trying to get them to twirl, but drink and gravity kept winning out. To get the momentum going, she even tried a couple of jumping jacks. Finally, clasping her hands behind her head, she went around the room shaking her twirlies and laughing.

     Without closing the door, I crept back downstairs and went out to the camper, where I slept until morning. Ruby was still sleeping when I left for the house, hoping to shower away my hangover. I walked through the living room and as I passed the kitchen I looked in and saw the ladies sitting around the breakfast table drinking coffee and gabbing--still wearing their Christmas presents.

     Gramma saw me as I headed for the bathroom, and just before I turned into the hallway she stood up, opened her robe, and shook her twirlies at me.