Sunny: The Hippie Chick

By Dawn Natelle

Reviewed and Edited by Eric

Chapter 2 is ready. And I am lucky enough to have Eric editing this story. He edited my earlier story, River, and as a benefit he lived in SF during this time. We hope to get a new chapter out each Saturday. My story Stone will also continue one or two chapters per week: Dawn

Chapter 2- Come together, right now

On Sunday I woke up in the most delightful way. Looking down, I saw an outrageous mass of blonde hair bobbing up and down on my penis. Soon, my morning hard-on was gone and I saw Sunny’s gorgeous smile looking at my face, with traces of my semen running down her chin. I reached over to the box of tissues at the side of the bed and handed some to her.

“Thanks,” I gasped. “That was wonderful. A great way to wake up.”

“No problem,” she smiled. “You deserve it. I won’t do the other way. That is how two boys do it. And I’m not a boy. But this is something a girl does for her man. And I kinda enjoyed it.”

“Does that mean I am your man?” I asked hopefully.

“If I can be your girl you are,” Sunny said and I impulsively kissed her deeply.

When they finished Sunny teased him: “I’ll bet that didn’t taste so good. You don’t know where that mouth has been.”

“I know exactly where it has been. And you will never taste bad to me.”

“What’s on today? No sense for me to go out and busk.”

“There is a little flea market a couple blocks away,” I said. “I thought we might go down there and see if we can get some furniture. Too bad Ben is working. He’s got more muscles than me for carrying big stuff. He works till four, and the market is open till six. If we see something too heavy, we’ll see if he can tote it for us.”

“He works pretty hard for his money, doesn’t he?” Sunny noted.

“Yeah, it’s pretty hard for a black man to get anything more than minimum wage. And $1.25 cents an hour doesn’t bring in much. His tuition and books were funded by some Negro College Fund thing, but it doesn’t cover his rent or food off campus. He makes $80 a month, working two days, and his rent is $10 a month. He tries to buy a meal once or twice a week for us, but mostly I buy them.”

“Until now,” Sunny said brightly. “From now on my men will eat healthy food, home-cooked.”

“Oh, so Ben is your man too?”

“Yeah, for meals. But the bedroom stuff is strictly for you.”

“That’s good, because I’ve seen Ben naked and I think you would choke on that thing.”

They dressed and headed out to the market. Due to Sunny waking me early in her special way, we were there before nine and there was still a good selection at the market, with a few vendors still setting up. First, we bought two wooden chairs for a dollar each and carted them back to the apartment on our shoulders.

Next, we went back and paid $5 for an old wooden table. It was round, and already marked up a bit on the edges, so we rolled it home like a big hoop, only sweating in getting it upstairs in the living/dining room area of the apartment. Finally, it was back a third time to got another chair, which didn’t match either of the other two, but only cost another dollar. Sunny wrapped up the trip getting some bowls, pots and utensils, spending just over two dollars. So, the entire morning just cost us a bit over $10 and the apartment was starting to look like a decent place, and not some college-boy crash pad.

We hadn’t had breakfast before we left, in order to get to the market early, so Sunny made us a late breakfast of eggs on toast. I just felt so special eating with this beautiful girl, who I still considered far out of my league. When I mentioned it again, Sunny told me that for her having a guy who did not obsess on her imperfection was worth keeping.

After we pair washed and dried the dishes together, I went into the bedroom and emerged carrying an old manual typewriter. “Sorry, but I’m going to leave you on your own for a while. I’ve got to hand in a short paper on Monday, and that professor docks ten percent for anything handwritten. So, I’m going to type it.”

I set the machine down on the new table, then put in a sheet and started to hunt and peck type at my 10 words a minute speed. Sunny looked at me for a few minutes, and then stood beside me, looking at the scrawl of my handwritten paper.

“God, you write like a doctor already,” she admonished. “Slide over and let me have a go at it.”

I stood, and then was amazed at the machine gun sounds coming out of the machine. Sunny’s fingers flew over the keyboard. “I didn’t take phys. ed. in high school, so I was in the secretarial typing class. It was the only class during that slot I was interested in. I took it for two years, and after the first year I was one of the best girls in the class, although no one knew I was a girl back then. It drove the girls, and their teacher, nuts to think that a ‘boy’ could type faster and more accurately than they could. What’s that word?”

I looked: “It’s pharmacology. That’s what this class is, so I just draw a squiggle when I write manuscript.”

“Right, squiggle and blur means Farmer’s College. Got it,”

“No,” I nearly shouted. “Pharmacology. Not Farmer’s College.” I spelled it out.

Sunny paused and looked up at me. “Listen mister, if you yell at me you can spend the rest of the day and half the night typing your own damn paper.” But she had a huge grin on her face that said she was not offended. “You are so easy to tease. I love that.”

I looked at the paper, and saw the word had been typed perfectly, and spelled correctly. The machine gun started up again, and I followed along as she typed.

“Wait a second,” I said. “That section would be better if you added a sentence or two before it.” I dictated at a normal speaking voice, and Sunny was able to keep up, and then went back to the manuscript. Soon she put a fourth sheet into the typewriter and a few seconds later had typed the last 12 lines. She turned the sheet over and found one more page of manuscript, but it was in a sort of table.

“What’s this?”

“Oh, those are my references. They match the little numbers you typed in earlier. They need to be in alphabetical order. Can you sort them as you type? The prof is picky about following APA style guidelines.” I went back into the bedroom and got my style guide manual and had Sunny type the references in proper format. She was done a few minutes later.

“Wow, that only took a half hour. If I typed it, it would have taken four hours at least.”

“So, lots of time for me to make dinner.”

“What are we having? I could order in. Do you like Chinese?”

“No, I mean yes I like Chinese, if I could afford it. But I bought two chicken breasts in the market yesterday. I will make rice and peas for the side, and another salad. Sound okay? I have a killer sauce for the chicken.”

“If you make it, I know it will be good,” I said. “I’ve got a bit of reading to do for tomorrow’s afternoon class.” With that I sat down on the sofa bed, which was folded up and started to read. Every now and then I looked up and saw Sunny doing her cute little dance around the kitchen. It made me smile. How could I be so lucky?

A couple hours later Ben came in, looking absolutely exhausted. But he smiled as he saw Sunny and smelled the food she was cooking.

“Furniture? We have furniture now. When is dinner? Do you want me to call for something cheap?”

“No Sunny cooked for us again,” I said.

“Fifteen to twenty minutes,” she said.

“Oh good. I have time for a quick shower,” Ben said heading to the washroom. As he passed me, I realized that he did reek. I guess toting around 50-pound boxes of fish will do that.

So, it was up to me to set the ‘floor’ as Sunny called it. I used the table instead, after stowing my typewriter in my bedroom closet. The dinner was excellent, with Ben wearing an old robe. His closet was the one near the front door, and he dressed as Sunny cleared the table. Sunny had put canned peas into the rice and it made the meal a treat.

“Excellent meal again, Sunny,” Ben said in his deep voice. “I hope Mitch is planning to keep you, because I’ll miss all of this.”

“I hoping she’ll keep me,” I said and then noticed Sunny’s mouth was open wide. Turning I saw Ben was pulling up his boxers, with his big black snake curling up and in. He had inadvertently flashed her.

“Sorry,” he said contritely.

“Don’t worry,” the stunned girl said. “If we are going to be living together it is inevitable that things like that would happen.

After Sunny and I washed and dried the dishes Ben pulled out his bed and got into it. He really was exhausted and had an early class on Monday. I went into the bedroom and got my text out again, while Sunny said she wanted a shower.

As I was reading, I heard sounds coming from the shower. Sunny was singing, and I heard the most velvet soprano sounds. She was singing White Rabbit, a song the Airplane had played on Friday night. She had told me then she hadn’t heard it before, but she was able to recreate it perfectly after only hearing it the once.

She came into the bedroom in her towels. I heard Ben say “What a beautiful concert before bed.” She walked over to me, carrying the brush and plucked the book out of my hand and set it on the nightstand, handing me the brush.

“Please?”

“With pleasure,” I said. “I love your long hair.”

“Washing it twice in such a short time this once must be good for it. It was so dirty. But I don’t think I’ll wash it again until next weekend,” she said. “I’ll have to get something to hold it up when I shower or bathe.”

“It does feel cleaner this time,” I noted. “The brush just glides through it. You learned that song so well since Friday.”

“Well, it is a great tune.”

“Do you know more?”

“Yeah, pretty much every song I have heard. I seem to pick them up easily.”

“You know, you should sing when you panhandle,” I suggested as I brushed that beautiful hair. “Your voice is good enough. No, your voice is great. Way better than good enough. I’ll bet you bring in more money if you sing instead of just shaking the tambourine.”

“You think so,” she mused.

“Totally. If it doesn’t work, you can stop, but I’ll bet if you play more will pay. It is like a concert.”

“Okay. I’ll try.”

The next morning, I woke up alone in bed. I missed having the treat I got the day before, but I heard voices outside my door. Sunny had gotten up early to make Ben a breakfast before his early class: another eggs on toast.

“I really need to get some bacon,” she apologized to him. “But it was nearly a dollar a pound at the market, and I couldn’t afford it. Maybe Mitch will take me to the store tonight.”

“He sure will,” I said as I entered the room, and the conversation. “I doubt you have enough food left for another night, and I don’t think Ben and I want to go back to delivery food.”

“Amen,” the big black man agreed.

“I got up early because of Ben’s early class,” Sunny said with her glowing smile. “Do you want yours now, or just before you leave for your first class?”

“Now, please,” I said, bathing in the radiation of her smile.

She plated me up more eggs on toast, and then made herself some. Ben darted out the door as we were eating.

Nearly an hour later I followed, although not before giving Sunny a long and sensuous kiss. It went so long that I had to run the half block to catch my bus.

It was four when I came back and saw a huge crowd at the newsstand. I pushed my way to the front to get my papers and saw that Sunny was singing and dancing in the front of a crowd of people, her long blonde hair fanning out around her as she spun about.

“I got your Chronicle back here,” Mario said. “Miss Sunny said I should save one for you. Lots of Examiners left but the Chronicle sold out before lunch. People, they come, hear Miss Sunny, and stay to listen. Many buy stuff from me. Best day this year, by far.”

I joined the circle around my girlfriend. God, I love saying that. She saw me in the middle of a Beatles song and gave the biggest smile. When the song was over, she ran and jumped on me, nearly knocking me over. Luckily she didn’t weigh much and I was able to swing her around.

“That’s all for today, folks,” she said. “I’ll be back here tomorrow if the weather is nice and sunny. Special thanks to those who helped fill the hat.”

I noticed many of the crowd come forward and drop a quarter or less into the hat. At least three men dropped ones in.

“So, I don’t need to pay today?” I joked as she went and picked up the hat, with one last person dropping a quarter in.

“No. I sing to you for free,” she said kissing me. When we broke off, she went to Mario, the magazine vendor and gave him all her change. “Mario always needs change, and I prefer bills. I’ve had him change my coins for me three times today. Look what I earned?” She pulled her purse out of her bag and showed a ten and six ones.

“And this, Missy Sunny,” Mario said. “You come tomorrow?” He handed her three ones and some change.

“I hope so, Mario,” she said, giving her a bright smile. “Unless it rains.”

“Mario asked me to move closer to him when he saw me start to draw crowds. He says it is helping his business. I usually go till six, but I’ve been singing since nine and my voice is getting tired. But I made nearly $20! That’s nearly three dollars an hour. I feel rich.”

“Not too rich to bunk with some poor college students,” I said tentatively.

“Are you kidding. It was you that turned my life around. You said I should sing, and I did and look at all I made. This money is going straight to the market, and there is nothing that will be too expensive for my guys.”

She didn’t spend it all, but I had two big paper sacks to carry up to the apartment. Sunny only hummed as she packed all the food away. There were two small steaks on the counter and the oven was already on to bake potatoes. She had fresh fixings for the salad and peeled and sliced up raw carrots for the side.

“What’s this?” I asked noticing a rather aromatic concoction in a bowl.

“Don’t touch that,” she said with the smallest note of alarm in her voice. “That’s my starter. Now that I have a place to live, I can start to grow a new one. I use them for sour-dough bread. I’m hoping that it will be ready for the weekend, and then I’ll show you guys what real bread tastes like.”

Ben was already home, sitting on the sofa surrounded by books. He didn’t have weekends free to catch up on homework and assignments, so he made good use of the evenings to keep up. I went over to the table and cracked my own books. I usually went to my bedroom to study, but it was much more fun watching Sunny do her little dance in the kitchen. Finally she ordered me to put the books away and set the table.

The meal was wonderful. I can’t remember the last time I had a better piece of meat. Sunny had used copious pepper and other spices. The baked potatoes had butter slathered onto them. Real butter, not that white stuff called margarine. The carrots had been cooked in water, but then Sunny coated them in a rich mix of melted butter and salt, making them taste more like candy than a vegetable.

“Another great meal, sweetheart,” Ben said as he pushed his plate back. “You could get a job in a restaurant and I would eat there every day.”

“She couldn’t afford the cut in pay to work in a café,” I bragged. “She made nearly $20 with her music today.” She didn’t say anything, but the cutest blush appeared on her face.

“$20!” Ben almost shouted. “I’d have to work a week to earn that. It must pay to be white. And gorgeous.”

After the meal we boys cracked the books again, and Sunny puttered around in the kitchen again. About an hour later wonderful smells started leaking into the bedroom. Soon I had to come see what was happening. I saw Ben looking up as well.

“What is that wonderful smell?” I asked.

“I’m making cookies,” Sunny announced. “Chocolate chip. They will be out of the oven in about 10 minutes, and then you will have to wait 10 minutes until they are cool enough to try.”

I pulled my new girl onto my lap on one of the chairs and she started to giggle. I squelched that by kissing her, and she eagerly reciprocated, finally jumping up to check her oven. More, stronger smells as she pulled a pan out and popped another in. Lots of cookies.

The next five minutes must have been hell on Ben. I distracted Sunny and I with more kissing. Finally, Sunny told us we could have two cookies each and we eagerly stood waiting for her to scoop them off the cooling rack. She wetted the pan down to cool it, and then spooned another panful, ready to go in when the second batch was ready.

“34,” she announced as she scrapped the mixing bowl to get the last bits of goodness out. I think there will be eight in a bag for each of you to take to school. And I want you to share, not wolf them all down yourselves. Another eight for Mario at work, and there should be some for you after school tomorrow.”

“Ha, I could wolf them down on the bus, let alone at school,” Ben said. “Aren’t you going to have any?”

“I’ll have one,” she said, taking one off the rack. “I don’t want to eat too many. I’m starting to gain weight now that I’m eating every day. They won’t be so tempting when they aren’t warm.”

“You? Fat?” I said with a chuckle, careful not to spew cookie over the table. It was too good to waste. “You could gain 10 pounds and it wouldn’t show.”

“If I could put it in the right places I would,” Sunny said. “I knew a girl on North Beach who was taking something called Premarin. It gave her some nice boobs and nice hips. Now that I might be getting some money, I might ask her who her guy is. He was charging her $50 a week.”

I looked up sharply. “One of the things we learn in pharmacology class is that it is dangerous for you to self-medicate. Promise me you won’t start anything until I look it up and find out what doses are correct, and whether there are any side effects.”

“Okay. That’s an easy promise to make, since I haven’t really got any money yet,” she said. On Tuesday we both had later classes, but I wanted to get in early to check out this Premarin thing. Sunny was up and made us bacon and egg breakfasts, with hash browns made from the potatoes left over from dinner. We each left with our little bags of cookies. I saw Ben eat one on the stairs down, and another waiting for the bus. I was a good boy and didn’t eat any until I got to school. I didn’t share with classmates though. I shared with my teachers: they were the ones who gave me my marks.

When I got home the Tuesday crowd was even larger than yesterday. Mario had saved me a Chronicle again, and only had a few Examiners left. That paper only came out at one and was nearly gone three hours later. Mario said he had increased the Chronicle order, and still sold out, as were several weekly magazines.

I stood out of Sunny’s sight while she was finishing her song. It was the Beatles classic, with the words gender swapped to He Loves You. I noticed her voice was a bit lower than usual. Perhaps seven hours a day singing was too much for her. I stepped into the ring of people and got her massive smile when she saw me. Again, she ran and leaped onto me, but this time I was ready and simply swung her around.

She thanked her fans, who started to move away, many of them dropping a contribution into the hat as they dispersed. Sunny gathered up the change and handed it to Mario to convert to bills. He gave her just over $4 back.

“Oh my,” she gushed. “I made over $21 today. Will it keep up? Who’s playing at the Avalon Friday and Saturday? Look in this. A guy selling Oracles gave me one as a tip.” She fished it out of her bag as she put her money away. I looked through it and quickly found the Avalon ad at the back with the concert listings.

“Friday is ‘Los Angeles’ night. Scott Mackenzie … never heard of him … but the Mama’s and Papa’s, they are good. And a band called Buffalo Springfield. Saturday night is the same as last Friday: the Airplane, Santana and Big Brother.

“Yes, and you and I are going to both shows. My treat.”

“Okay, but I’ll buy dinner.”

“Pizza again,” she said hopefully.

“No there is a little Chinese place just a bit past the hall. They have a killer buffet set up. Let’s go home now.”

Wednesday and Thursday were just as lucrative for Sunny, but on Friday it was raining. It rains in San Francisco in November, especially when it is almost December.

I had no late classes on Friday, so I came home an hour early. Sunny had spent the day cleaning and baking. I have to admit, the apartment looked spotless. Having a girl around really made a difference. There was another batch of cookies: peanut butter this time. Two different pies and a chocolate cake. She apologized that it was from a mix.

“Where will we put the safe?” I joked. “There is no way we can leave Ben with all this food and expect any to be left tomorrow. We’ll have to go to the pawn shop and buy a padlock or something.”

“He will be good. I’ve fixed him a plate of leftover roast beef from yesterday, and he will have to be good if he wants to take the beef sandwiches I made for his lunches on the weekend. But I do want to go to the pawn shop. Is it still raining?”

“A bit. We should go to the thrift store and get you a nice coat or jacket. And a rain slicker. It might be pouring rain when the concert is over tonight. The pawn shop is just another block down from there.”

We got out of the thrift shop quickly. Sunny got a cute coat that reminded me of the Carnaby Look that was all the rage. The yellow slicker was less attractive but would keep her dry. In the pawn shop Sunny looked at the acoustic guitars. I didn’t know she could play, but she clearly could the way she tested them out.

“I really like this one,” she finally told the clerk. “But I only have $60. Can you do anything better?” The sticker price was $125.

“Not that much better,” he said curtly. “That’s less than half price. I have a business to run here.”

“I bet you only paid $50 for this,” Sunny said. “What about $80. I’ll borrow $20 from my friend here.

“Borrow $40 and I’ll let it go for $100, with the case.”

“I need the case, but I’m not worth $40 to this guy. And it’s so miserable outside I’ll bet you haven’t taken in $80 all day.” She held out her sixty, and I forked out another $20 from my wallet, which conveniently emptied it. I had taken $40 out and put it in my shirt pocket for the concert tonight. I made sure the man saw it was empty.

He stared at the four 20s for several minutes, and then snatched them out of her hand. “There’s $3.20 in sales tax on top of that. I suppose I’ll have to eat that too,” he grumbled. I reached into my jeans pocket and pulled out a five. “There. $85. Tax included,” I said.

The man reached for a guitar case and tried to give us a cheaper one. Sunny noticed, and said: “Uh, uh.” That isn’t the one it was in. I want that case.” She pointed to the better case, and the clerk reluctantly put the guitar into it. Sunny gladly put the strap around her neck and nearly glided out of the shop.