The Adventures Of Bette Porter and Sissee Gardner After Yale (Part 2, Chapter2).

PART TWO: Mammoth Lakes, California

Chapter 2

I felt a squeeze at the back of my arm and turned to see Skip.

Skip Williams was simply a fun guy. He was the personification of a California Surfer Dude. His golden shock of hair looked like a permed lion’s mane. In fact, when we used the same hair dryer, it took him longer to blow dry and style his hair than me and if the truth be told, he never met a mirror he did not like.

His raw good looks meshed with his sea-green eyes, unshaven face and sly grin. “I thought you were going to be in the bar,” he teased.

Before I could answer, I felt a hand on my other arm. I turned to see Bette Porter standing in front of me.

“Sissee Gardner!”

An amazing thrill went through me as I said, “Bette Porter!”

Bette slipped her arms around me and gave me a warm hug which I returned with great enthusiasm.

“Fuck! I never thought I’d ever see you again,” she said, coming out of the hug.

“From Yale to Mammoth! Who’d ever believe it?” I said.

We both stepped back, smiling contagiously.

"We are you doing here?" I asked.

“We just came up to ski for the weekend and check out the galleries.”

“Where’d you come from? Where are you living now?”

“Down in Southern California,” she answered. “In Venice, actually. You know…..artists, writers, free spirits, the canals, the Doors……. Remember the Doors?

“I sure do.”

“How about you?

“Newport Beach…..swimming, sailing, surfing……….”

I turned to Skip and introduced them. Bette shook his hand, then looked over her shoulder toward the fireplace, saying, “I’m here with a friend too.” She caught his eye and beckoned him over.

His back had been turned to us earlier but my mouth dropped when he ambled over. My god, he was good looking. In fact, I had never seen such a handsome black man in all my life! He looked like a model for Gentlemen’s Quarterly, page one, advertising something sinfully expensive like diamonds or sapphires.

I thought what a good match he was for Bette Porter. He had on a yellow ski suit, which against his ebony skin was like wearing a neon sign.

I heard Bette introducing him as Terrell Johnson and that he was a producer at Universal Pictures.

I suddenly got a power surge thinking of them in bed together, butt naked, thrashing around in the throes of passion. But then I quickly came back to reality, hearing Bette call him, “Terry”, and seeing her slip an arm around his waist, tossing her head in that way she always did, giving life to that mass of shining curls. How awesome, I thought. They made such a striking couple. So ultra-sophisticated and gorgeous.

Skip noticed one of the sofas was free and suggested we ladies sit down. As we did, Terry took our drink preferences and the two men went back to the bar for refills.

Bette and I leaned closer to each other . I was so curious to know what she was doing in California. But before I could ask her, she gave a quick tap on my knee and asked me, what I had been up to. After I told her briefly, I asked her to fill me in on what she had been doing since graduation.