Teach
10-17-2017, 12:50 PM
"A Walk On The Wild Side": Like Father, Like Son
He found her in bed. She was having sex with a complete stranger. Their bedroom. His apartment. That day, my son, then in his early-to-mid 20s, had gotten out of work early from his job at Home Depot. He wanted to surprise his “girlfriend,” Ann, by taking her out to lunch. That’s when he discovered Ann in the bedroom under the sheets. My son Brian was understandably livid. Hurt. Shocked. He booted the two of them out of his Comm. Ave. apartment.
As I look back, Brian had first met Ann when both were in college (neither would graduate). My son has an A.D.D. problem. He has trouble focusing (he takes medication). Sitting in a classroom for any length of time is out of the question. When Brian was younger, I’d take the family out for dinner. As we started eating our desserts, Brian would be out warming up the car.
I will say much. At the time, Brian was very attracted to Ann (physical attraction will do that every time) the first time he met her was in their English 101 class. Ann, quite frankly, was born too late. Oh, she was about Brian’s age. That wasn’t the problem. Ann, you see, reminded me of someone who you might have seen performing strip-tease routines at “Minsky’s” in New York or Boston’s “Old Howard” in what was then Beantown’s Scollay Square.
For her part, Ann had all the moves. My wife called her: “The Lady of The Night”. I could see where someone could easily be attracted to her. It’s just that my wife and I felt she couldn’t be trusted (she proved that).
While Brian and Ann were still in college, particularly during vacations, Brian would frequently visit Ann at her family’s home on the North Fork of New York’s Montauk Point. If I had a nickel for every time I took Brian down to New London, CT for the trip across Long Island Sound to Orient Pt., NY, I’d be able to buy a cup of coffee.
After both had dropped out of college, Brian encouraged Ann to come to Boston and live with him; he even found her a job. I recall at the time that he kept telling my wife and me, “I’m not going to marry her!”
Well, Ann’s “Afternoon Delight” resolved that problem.
Yet, as I think back to my own youthful days, I can’t, in good conscience, play the: “holier-than-thou” routine.
As I remember, it was the mid-1960s. I was attending the wedding of my “step-brother” (although I never saw him as such; my parents divorced in the mid-1950s, my father remarried a divorcee with two children).
At the reception, I was seated at a table with other young, eligible men and women who were approximately my age. In hindsight, I must say that at first blush none of the women at the table caught my attention.
Yet, I do recall that about an hour or so into the reception, one of the women seated at the table asked, “Walter, would you like to dance?” I said, “Yes.”
When I got on the dance floor, I felt comfortable with this woman - her name was Karen - who had asked me to dance. I had enjoyed talking with Karen on the dance-floor; we continued that conversation back at our table. I would learn that Karen was working as a secretary at a Boston law firm.
As we continued talking, Karen mentioned that her father had delivered newspapers to various drug stores, I immediately made a connection. I recall a fun-loving guy who'd every so often come to the drugstore where I was working to both leave off newspapers and discuss sports. I would learn that he now operated an insurance business in Boston.
Well, a week or two later after the wedding reception, I called Karen for a date. She lived in a town south of Boston. That date would be the first of several. In fact, I recall that I dated Karen off and on for the next several months. Yet, one date will always stand out. As I remember, I didn’t have access to a car (I often used my father’s car when it was available). I recall mentioning the fact that I had "no wheels" to Karen. She said she could use her mother’s car, a white convertible.
That Saturday evening Karen picked me up at my mother’s apartment. We then road a couple miles to a street near Boston’s Franklin Park. The newlyweds, my “step-brother” Stan and his wife, were renting an apartment there. Yet, as we parked the car near the apartment, we knew that this once peaceful neighborhood was changing.
In any event, Karen and I went upstairs to see “the newly-weds”. For the next couple hours, we socialized with them and their guests. I remember it was about 10 p.m. when I motioned to Karen that we might leave. She immediately picked up on my signal.
Well, we bid everyone a good-night and walked down the apartment stairs to the street level. As we did, I must admit I was filled with anticipation. Not only did Karen have a very pleasant personality, but she was also one of the most free-spirited, uninhibited women I had ever met. I knew that we would likely “go parking”. I was thrilled that she had the convertible which had loads of room in the front (whenever I borrowed my father’s Toyota Corolla, I felt like a contortionist).
As I recall, we walked toward where we had parked the car. But, it wasn’t there. “Where was it?” I thought. I distinctly remember saying to Karen, “Are you sure we parked the convertible here?” She said, “Yes”. For the first and only time, a passenger in which I had been riding in was stolen.
What were we to do? The only thing we could do was to go back upstairs and seek a ride home. We’d also called the Boston police to report a stolen vehicle.
As an offshoot, the car turned up a few days later. Trashed and totaled. I felt terrible. One of the few times in my life that a woman picks me up on a date and her family’s car is stolen.
Oh, there would be one other incident. I should state at this point state that Karen, although she had a rubenesque (“pleasantly plump”) appearance, she could and would dress and act seductively enough that she could “turn you on”.
One Sunday afternoon, we had made a date to play tennis. I was supposed to pick her up about 1:30. As it turns out I couldn’t get my father’s car until close to 3 p.m. (there was a reason behind all this that I would later learn). When I finally arrived at Karen home, it was close to 3:30 p.m. I could sense, when I arrived, that Karen was quite upset, and rightfully so. The first thing she said was “You coulda called!” (she was right). She added, “I thought you stood me up.” I apologized profusely. Karen settled down. We left to play tennis. I will say that Karen looked attractive in white tennis shorts with a black top.
When we returned, the house was empty (as it was when I had arrived). Her parents had gone that day to Springfield to visit Karen’s older brother and his wife.
As soon as we arrived back at the house, we sat on the couch in the living room; we began smooching and petting. I remember as we continued our amorous ways, Karen’s tennis shorts were sliding down (I didn’t do it) her cream-colored undies that revealed an erotically-eliciting view of Karen’s ample ass. It was then that Karen suggested we go upstairs to her bedroom (coincidentally, at the same time, Karen’s parents called from a pay-phone to say they were about 20 minutes from the house).
As foolish as this may sound, I turned down Karen’s invitation to join her in her bedroom. Frankly, my concern was that her parents would arrive back and find Karen and me in bed engaging in carnal knowledge (as it was, when they came back, I had “a hard-on”).
Well, as it turns out (I was the last to know) Karen apparently had plans (at least that’s what she told her friends) to lure me to her bedroom and excite me to the point that we engaged in unprotected sexual intercourse. Apparently, she knew she was fertile. She also knew that I - in all likelihood - would never marry her. I believe, although never stated, that she felt this was her chance "to get me". She probably figured that one-hundred million sperm aren’t going to miss.
As a postscript: I would soon leave Boston to teach on Long Island. I would lose touch with Karen. When I returned to Boston that fall to attend my "step-sister's" wedding, I learned that Karen had cancer.
I recall visiting Harriet in the hospital. She looked so thin and gaunt; it was a far cry from the bubbly, effervescent person whose company I had enjoyed so much. I would later learn, while I was still teaching on Long Island that Karen had died.
As soon as I heard the news, I was terribly saddened. This wonderful, vivacious, young woman had been taken from us, too soon.
He found her in bed. She was having sex with a complete stranger. Their bedroom. His apartment. That day, my son, then in his early-to-mid 20s, had gotten out of work early from his job at Home Depot. He wanted to surprise his “girlfriend,” Ann, by taking her out to lunch. That’s when he discovered Ann in the bedroom under the sheets. My son Brian was understandably livid. Hurt. Shocked. He booted the two of them out of his Comm. Ave. apartment.
As I look back, Brian had first met Ann when both were in college (neither would graduate). My son has an A.D.D. problem. He has trouble focusing (he takes medication). Sitting in a classroom for any length of time is out of the question. When Brian was younger, I’d take the family out for dinner. As we started eating our desserts, Brian would be out warming up the car.
I will say much. At the time, Brian was very attracted to Ann (physical attraction will do that every time) the first time he met her was in their English 101 class. Ann, quite frankly, was born too late. Oh, she was about Brian’s age. That wasn’t the problem. Ann, you see, reminded me of someone who you might have seen performing strip-tease routines at “Minsky’s” in New York or Boston’s “Old Howard” in what was then Beantown’s Scollay Square.
For her part, Ann had all the moves. My wife called her: “The Lady of The Night”. I could see where someone could easily be attracted to her. It’s just that my wife and I felt she couldn’t be trusted (she proved that).
While Brian and Ann were still in college, particularly during vacations, Brian would frequently visit Ann at her family’s home on the North Fork of New York’s Montauk Point. If I had a nickel for every time I took Brian down to New London, CT for the trip across Long Island Sound to Orient Pt., NY, I’d be able to buy a cup of coffee.
After both had dropped out of college, Brian encouraged Ann to come to Boston and live with him; he even found her a job. I recall at the time that he kept telling my wife and me, “I’m not going to marry her!”
Well, Ann’s “Afternoon Delight” resolved that problem.
Yet, as I think back to my own youthful days, I can’t, in good conscience, play the: “holier-than-thou” routine.
As I remember, it was the mid-1960s. I was attending the wedding of my “step-brother” (although I never saw him as such; my parents divorced in the mid-1950s, my father remarried a divorcee with two children).
At the reception, I was seated at a table with other young, eligible men and women who were approximately my age. In hindsight, I must say that at first blush none of the women at the table caught my attention.
Yet, I do recall that about an hour or so into the reception, one of the women seated at the table asked, “Walter, would you like to dance?” I said, “Yes.”
When I got on the dance floor, I felt comfortable with this woman - her name was Karen - who had asked me to dance. I had enjoyed talking with Karen on the dance-floor; we continued that conversation back at our table. I would learn that Karen was working as a secretary at a Boston law firm.
As we continued talking, Karen mentioned that her father had delivered newspapers to various drug stores, I immediately made a connection. I recall a fun-loving guy who'd every so often come to the drugstore where I was working to both leave off newspapers and discuss sports. I would learn that he now operated an insurance business in Boston.
Well, a week or two later after the wedding reception, I called Karen for a date. She lived in a town south of Boston. That date would be the first of several. In fact, I recall that I dated Karen off and on for the next several months. Yet, one date will always stand out. As I remember, I didn’t have access to a car (I often used my father’s car when it was available). I recall mentioning the fact that I had "no wheels" to Karen. She said she could use her mother’s car, a white convertible.
That Saturday evening Karen picked me up at my mother’s apartment. We then road a couple miles to a street near Boston’s Franklin Park. The newlyweds, my “step-brother” Stan and his wife, were renting an apartment there. Yet, as we parked the car near the apartment, we knew that this once peaceful neighborhood was changing.
In any event, Karen and I went upstairs to see “the newly-weds”. For the next couple hours, we socialized with them and their guests. I remember it was about 10 p.m. when I motioned to Karen that we might leave. She immediately picked up on my signal.
Well, we bid everyone a good-night and walked down the apartment stairs to the street level. As we did, I must admit I was filled with anticipation. Not only did Karen have a very pleasant personality, but she was also one of the most free-spirited, uninhibited women I had ever met. I knew that we would likely “go parking”. I was thrilled that she had the convertible which had loads of room in the front (whenever I borrowed my father’s Toyota Corolla, I felt like a contortionist).
As I recall, we walked toward where we had parked the car. But, it wasn’t there. “Where was it?” I thought. I distinctly remember saying to Karen, “Are you sure we parked the convertible here?” She said, “Yes”. For the first and only time, a passenger in which I had been riding in was stolen.
What were we to do? The only thing we could do was to go back upstairs and seek a ride home. We’d also called the Boston police to report a stolen vehicle.
As an offshoot, the car turned up a few days later. Trashed and totaled. I felt terrible. One of the few times in my life that a woman picks me up on a date and her family’s car is stolen.
Oh, there would be one other incident. I should state at this point state that Karen, although she had a rubenesque (“pleasantly plump”) appearance, she could and would dress and act seductively enough that she could “turn you on”.
One Sunday afternoon, we had made a date to play tennis. I was supposed to pick her up about 1:30. As it turns out I couldn’t get my father’s car until close to 3 p.m. (there was a reason behind all this that I would later learn). When I finally arrived at Karen home, it was close to 3:30 p.m. I could sense, when I arrived, that Karen was quite upset, and rightfully so. The first thing she said was “You coulda called!” (she was right). She added, “I thought you stood me up.” I apologized profusely. Karen settled down. We left to play tennis. I will say that Karen looked attractive in white tennis shorts with a black top.
When we returned, the house was empty (as it was when I had arrived). Her parents had gone that day to Springfield to visit Karen’s older brother and his wife.
As soon as we arrived back at the house, we sat on the couch in the living room; we began smooching and petting. I remember as we continued our amorous ways, Karen’s tennis shorts were sliding down (I didn’t do it) her cream-colored undies that revealed an erotically-eliciting view of Karen’s ample ass. It was then that Karen suggested we go upstairs to her bedroom (coincidentally, at the same time, Karen’s parents called from a pay-phone to say they were about 20 minutes from the house).
As foolish as this may sound, I turned down Karen’s invitation to join her in her bedroom. Frankly, my concern was that her parents would arrive back and find Karen and me in bed engaging in carnal knowledge (as it was, when they came back, I had “a hard-on”).
Well, as it turns out (I was the last to know) Karen apparently had plans (at least that’s what she told her friends) to lure me to her bedroom and excite me to the point that we engaged in unprotected sexual intercourse. Apparently, she knew she was fertile. She also knew that I - in all likelihood - would never marry her. I believe, although never stated, that she felt this was her chance "to get me". She probably figured that one-hundred million sperm aren’t going to miss.
As a postscript: I would soon leave Boston to teach on Long Island. I would lose touch with Karen. When I returned to Boston that fall to attend my "step-sister's" wedding, I learned that Karen had cancer.
I recall visiting Harriet in the hospital. She looked so thin and gaunt; it was a far cry from the bubbly, effervescent person whose company I had enjoyed so much. I would later learn, while I was still teaching on Long Island that Karen had died.
As soon as I heard the news, I was terribly saddened. This wonderful, vivacious, young woman had been taken from us, too soon.