Words from a Country Song Ch. 07

Words from a Country Song - Chapter 07

This one is based on the song "Redneck Yacht Club." It was written by Thom Edward Shepherd and Steven J. Williams, and was recorded by Craig Morgan.

I did something a little different this time and used some of my favorite characters from my story "Bad Hair Day". The subject matter of this song certainly fits right into their world. You'll need to read that one if you're curious about the relationship between Amber and JT.

If you have requests of your own, put 'em in comments or contact me through the site!

Redneck Yacht Club

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"Come on, JT, damn it! We're gonna be late!" Amber hollered up the stairs at me.

I rolled my eyes, figurin' it was safe since she couldn't see me.

"And don't roll your eyes at me!" she shouted.

Damn, busted!

"Yeah, baby, I'm comin'... just lookin' for my lucky boonie hat!"

"Already in the truck, sugar, now come on! I want to get a good spot."

"Cooler?" I hollered as I hurried down the steps.

"Packed!"

"Got the limes and the Cuervo?"

"Packed!"

I hit the kitchen, to see my sexy as fuck girlfriend Amber just putting a few things into a big canvas tote bag. She turned and gave me a look, one hand on her hip.

"When have I ever forgotten anything, JT?" she tsked.

"You mighta forgot how god damn sexy you are in them cutoffs, woman!" I leered as I laid a lip-lock on her, and grabbed a handful of that bodacious badonkadonk.

"Mmmph!" she spluttered as I gave her tonsils a quick examination.

Giggling, and a little breathless, she finally pushed me away. Fanning herself with one hand, she smirked and said, "You save that for later, John Thomas. There'll be plenty o' time for that!"

Eyes flicking down, then back up, she gave little JT a squeeze. Then she gave me a truly wicked grin, tossed her ponytail over one shoulder, picked up the tote, and headed toward the truck. I grabbed the cooler and followed. I don't think I'd ever get tired of walkin' behind Amber... 'specially in them shorts! Hot diggedy dog! And I ain't even mentioned her boobies in that bikini! They were peekin' at me through the arm holes of her Molly Hatchet tank top, and I was peekin' back!

Anyway, the boat was already hooked up and toot sweet, we were headed for the lake.

Amber turned the radio to her favorite station, slipped off her flip flops, and rested her feet up on the dash, pink toes tapping to the beat.

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"Too bad Brandi can't make it," I offered.

"Yeah, she works too hard, that poor girl," Amber agreed.

"What's she workin' on this week?" I asked. Brandi hosted her own video podcast thingy, where she "investigated" strange legends and folklore and such. The subject matter, combined with her bein' cuter'n a bug's ear and a habit of wearin' skimpy outfits, had her a pretty good followin'.

"Umm... I can't remember, was it the Grafton Monster?" Amber pondered. "Or maybe it was the Smoke Wolf. Somethin' in West Virginia, anyway." She kinda flipped her hand in a dismissive gesture. "No matter, she'll be back in time for next weekend."

I shook my head. The things that girl got up to. "Well I know the fellas are sure gonna miss her too, those old lechers..."

Amber just laughed. "You 'member that time her top fell off? I thought Earl was gonna have a stroke right there!"

It was my turn to laugh. "I still ain't sure it was an accident."

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I backed down the boat ramp, unloaded, and after firing up the Mercury, I putted over to the dock while Amber parked the truck. A moment later, she hopped aboard and we were headed for Party Cove!

It wasn't really called that, not on the chart, anyway. It was just a special place that just few folks knew about, and we loved it. Quiet, peaceful (when we weren't whoopin' and hollerin'), and no one around to get upset when things - like Brandi's top fallin' off - got a little past PG.

Amber and I had a nice 22' Sun Tracker pontoon boat - what most folks 'round here called a 'party barge' - and I waved at Bob as we pulled alongside his 25' Avalon.

I shook my head. It was barely 10 a. m. and he already had a beer in his hand. He was dressed in the uniform of the day - Bermuda shorts, a tank top, and flip flops. And yet he insists that he's the president of our little floating trailer park. But there ain't no rent, no dues, and best of all, no Karen from the HOA!

"Put that Bud down and toss us a line, Bob!" I looked past him to see a line of five houseboats that had probably anchored there last night, all decked out with AstroTurf and lawn chairs. Once it got dark, they'd light the tiki torches, and turn on strings of party lights. Some of the wives hollered out to Amber, and the guys waved as they went about setting up chairs, tables, grills, and water toys.

As we tied up alongside Bob, I could see other boats slowly idling in. Pretty soon there was an assortment of bass trackers, Bay Liners, and another party barge. Looks like most of the membership of the Redneck Yacht Club was present and accounted for!

I was leanin' over the cooler, grabbin' a Busch Light for me and a White Claw for Amber when Shirley yelled, "JT, you dummy! Ya got yer drawers on backward!"

I twisted around, and sure enough, I guess when I bent over, the waistband of my boxers showed above my shorts.

"What the frack is 'YEKCOJ'?" Shirley laughed. She said it 'Yeck-oj' and a coupla other ladies were gigglin'.

"Oh, that just means it's week 2," I said, all casual like, tossin' out the lure.

Shirley bit. "Week 2?"

I reeled her in. "Yeah, you know... Week 1 you wear 'em right side out. Then you turn 'em inside out and get another week outa them. This is week 2!"

"Oh, that's nasty, JT!" she shrieked, and everyone within' hearin' distance busted up.

Well, I grinned to show her I was kiddin', and Amber rolled her eyes at me. The ladies went back to slatherin' on the sunscreen and the guys went back to eyeballin' 'em, while tryin' to act like they wasn't. Weren't nobody foolin' nobody, and nobody cared!

It turned into a scorcher of an afternoon.

"Hell with this nonsense," Amber finally shouted. "I'm sweatin' my tits off up here!" With that, she dove right off the upper deck into the water. A God damn perfect swan dive, too. We all cheered when she came back to the surface, and I was holdin' up ten fingers, plus one more that wasn't as obvious. Well, maybe it was, the way she was starin' at me. She just winked though, and mouthed, "Later."

Good enough for me. Life was good!

Well, it finally did start to cool down some as the sun finally dipped below the horizon in a pink-orange blaze. Yeah, gimme a break, I can be poetic as a motherfucker when I want to be!

Anyway, as it got on toward twilight, Craig pulled out his old six-string, and started strummin'. Tommy opened a coupla jars o' shine and started them around. We sipped and sang, and Amber leaned against me, her head on my shoulder. I had my arm around her, and whispered in her ear, "It don't get much better'n this, baby."

After a while, she gave me the eye. "It's later, JT." I pulled her to her feet, and we headed back to the boat. Much later, as we moved together, and the boat was rockin', makin' waves, Amber asked, a little out of breath, "JT? I just thought of somethin'."

I was breathin' a little heavy too, but I managed to answer, "Yeah, baby? What's that?"

"Ain't this a no-wake zone?"

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