For several years I ran all the maintenance on a large fleet of school buses. The business that owned and ran the buses was family owned and the office was full of nice, good people, three or four or them being 40s and 50s women. One was named Marion and I expect she was around 50 at the time. She was pleasant, polite, always dressed appropriately for the job, and was competent. She pretty much kept her head down working all the time, but everybody liked her. There was no reason not to like her. Marion was pleasantly average looking, wasn't fat, wasn't skinny either, just . . . average. The kind of woman you'd barely notice in the grocery store, and who you'd expect to find sitting on the second pew in the Methodist church every Sunday. Her husband stopped by the office a few times over the years. He looked to be at least ten years older than Marion and just generally had a nasty, sour-mouthed, curmudgeonly air about him. There's no accounting for taste between people, so I just kinda shrugged off his personality and what Marion may have thought about him.
After seven or eight years I moved on to another job, twisting wrenches in an auto repair shop. The guy in the bay next to me was gregarious and outgoing and we became good friends. One day a friend of his named Larry stopped by to visit. The three of us got to talking, and it came out that I'd worked at the bus lot. Larry's eyes sort of lit up and he asked me if I knew Marion.
Yeah, she's still working there and sure, I knew her. Larry tossed his head back and started laughing, and then told me a story I could scarcely believe. It seems that a few years before I got to the bus lot Larry had worked there, and liked to go to car races on the weekends. Somehow Marion ended up at the track one weekend driving a bus for an activity trip and ran into Larry. I didn't get all the details, but a few weeks later somehow he and a friend talked Marion into accompanying them to the track one weekend, and one thing led to another and they started fucking her. The racetrack was about an hour away, and she started going to the races with them every weekend. One guy would drive while the other fucked her in the back seat. They'd switch drivers about half way and the other friend fucked her the rest of the way. And then all the way home. Larry said she was absolutely insatiable. When they weren't fucking her all the way to the track and back they'd occasionally pick her up in the evening, pull down a local lover's lane and take turns fucking her until neither one of them could keep it up any longer.
I started saying, "Marion? Are you kidding? Marion?!?"
"Yes! That Marion!" he kept saying.
Marion had worked her way into the office when I was there but at that time she was a senior bus driver and was driving evening activity trips (like the basketball team to some neighboring high school). She'd tell Larry where she was and he'd stop by and fuck her unmercifully on her bus, out in a dark parking lot.
"Marion?? Are you sure??"
"Yes!! Next time you stop by the bus lot tell her Larry says 'hi.'"
So I did. A few months later I stopped by there to see somebody else, and stopped in her office for a minute. A look of pure terror flashed across her face when I told her I'd met Larry, but she caught herself pretty fast and just told me to return the greeting. About a year later her sourpuss old husband stopped by my shop and wanted a repair estimate on some run-out old Ford he had. He got all pissy when we told him the cost, and I never saw him again. I got the distinct impression he never knew about his hot blooded, demure-looking, middle-aged wife.
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