Teach
03-22-2008, 07:25 AM
"Hey Walt," the voiced called out. "Got a minute." "Sure," I said. It was John C. Hollinsworth III. John Hollinsworth, or "JC", as his friends called him, wanted to talk to me. I was incredulous.
I was then a teacher on Long Island. I had originally taken the job there because it was equidistant between Yonkers and Roosevelt Raceways.
I remember I was in the school cafeteria when Hollinsworth approached me. The whole thing was out of character. Although Hollinsworth and I were in the same social studies department, you could probably describe our relationship as -- oil and water. Hollinsworth was a practical joker and I --- the "new kid on the block" --- was frequently the butt of his jokes. He was more of a nuisance than anything, but still.... That's why I was shocked when he approached me.
"Walt, my good man," he said, "have I got a girl for you!"(I made it no secret that I was looking for some female companionship). "Oh," I replied to this act of kindness from a most unlikely source. "Yes," he added, "she's lovely; the sister of one of my college fraternity brothers. She lives in Roslyn. She has her own apartment," he added. Hollinsworth then proceeded to write down her name and telephone number. As JC was about to walk away, he said, "Give her a call; you'll really like her."
I remember going back to my apartment that afternoon after school. As I was putting my wallet and keys on the bureau, I noticed the slip of paper JC Hollinsworth had given me. I thought to myself, "Do I really want to bother with someone JC recommends? Yet, I was desperate. I was young, vibrant and full of libidinal energy. As my dad, a former Navy man was want to say: "Any Port In A Storm."
Well, that evening, I called her. Her name was Francine. She told me that she had recently graduated from college and was taking a couple graduate courses. She was "temping" at a local company to help pay some of her bills.
In the course of our conversation, I recall asking Francine if she enjoyed harness racing. I remember she said that she had never been to a harness race, but that she would be certainly willing to see what it was like. I made arrangements to take her Roosevelt Raceway that Saturday evening.
I recall picking up Francine about 6:30 that Saturday evening. When I picked her up, I didn't know what to make of her. She seemed attractive; yet...there was something unusual about her. She was quite muscular. I really didn't think that much of it, especially when she told me that when she was in college, she was a member of the female rowing team. She added that she's continued to work out.
That evening, at Roosevelt, was quite enjoyable. Roosevelt Raceway in those days was in its hey day. Huge crowds. Top-notch horses and top-flight drivers. It made for an exciting evening of harness racing. Francine, for her part, seemed to be enjoying it. It was hard to gauge her feeling toward the sport; yet she seemed to be having a good time.
After the races we rode back to my place. I was then living in a town called New Hyde Park. My place was located not far from the high school. It was, at most, about twenty-or-so minutes from Roosevelt. As we were riding back to my apartment, I kept sensing something well...unusual about Francine. I just couldn't pinpoint it. She seemed pleasant enough, but yet...
When we reached my place, I excused myself to fix a pot of coffee (actually I boiled some water for instant). I bid Francine sit on the couch and look at some of the magazines (most them were "Hoof Beats" or "Horseman and Fair World").
A few minutes later, I returned with our coffees. I remember we engaged in some small talk. I do recall asking if she'd mind if I threw on the Yankees game to see if it were still on, or if they'd won or lost. I recall the game had gone into extra inning so I took my coffee and flopped down on the bed to watch. To my complete surprise --- a pleasnt one at that --- Francine plopped down next to me.
Well, I'm watching the game when Francine leans over and starts kissing me.
I was pleasantly surprised. Yet, the next thing that happened really surprised me... Francine made a bee-line for my private parts. I mean, "Whoa!" Am I that irresistible? Doubtful. I have to be honest about myself. I didn't then...and don't, to this day, exude animal magnetism. Yet Francine is coming on to me like my "family jewels" are part of some rich vein of ore. I mean not that I didn't enjoy this attention, but -- I have to say -- the whole thing, well...took me aback. I mean it's usually the guy who's the aggressor; and that was just the question that was creeping into my mind at the very moment.
Interestingly, I made some advance of my own toward Francine's breasts; but she parried me like an adept swordsman. Had she been on the college fencing team, as well?
Well, this interlude was going nowhere. Here's a woman who searching for my scrotum; nut..I mean but...I can't lay a glove on her. The whole thing seemed quite bizarre.
A short time later, I suggested we call it an evening and I drove Francine back to her place. To this day, the whole episode, albeit over forty years ago, remains a mystery. And -- I'm sure -- one that will never be solved. Was "She" a "He"? What did they used to say: "Only her hairdresser knows," or maybe JC Hollinsworth III.
I was then a teacher on Long Island. I had originally taken the job there because it was equidistant between Yonkers and Roosevelt Raceways.
I remember I was in the school cafeteria when Hollinsworth approached me. The whole thing was out of character. Although Hollinsworth and I were in the same social studies department, you could probably describe our relationship as -- oil and water. Hollinsworth was a practical joker and I --- the "new kid on the block" --- was frequently the butt of his jokes. He was more of a nuisance than anything, but still.... That's why I was shocked when he approached me.
"Walt, my good man," he said, "have I got a girl for you!"(I made it no secret that I was looking for some female companionship). "Oh," I replied to this act of kindness from a most unlikely source. "Yes," he added, "she's lovely; the sister of one of my college fraternity brothers. She lives in Roslyn. She has her own apartment," he added. Hollinsworth then proceeded to write down her name and telephone number. As JC was about to walk away, he said, "Give her a call; you'll really like her."
I remember going back to my apartment that afternoon after school. As I was putting my wallet and keys on the bureau, I noticed the slip of paper JC Hollinsworth had given me. I thought to myself, "Do I really want to bother with someone JC recommends? Yet, I was desperate. I was young, vibrant and full of libidinal energy. As my dad, a former Navy man was want to say: "Any Port In A Storm."
Well, that evening, I called her. Her name was Francine. She told me that she had recently graduated from college and was taking a couple graduate courses. She was "temping" at a local company to help pay some of her bills.
In the course of our conversation, I recall asking Francine if she enjoyed harness racing. I remember she said that she had never been to a harness race, but that she would be certainly willing to see what it was like. I made arrangements to take her Roosevelt Raceway that Saturday evening.
I recall picking up Francine about 6:30 that Saturday evening. When I picked her up, I didn't know what to make of her. She seemed attractive; yet...there was something unusual about her. She was quite muscular. I really didn't think that much of it, especially when she told me that when she was in college, she was a member of the female rowing team. She added that she's continued to work out.
That evening, at Roosevelt, was quite enjoyable. Roosevelt Raceway in those days was in its hey day. Huge crowds. Top-notch horses and top-flight drivers. It made for an exciting evening of harness racing. Francine, for her part, seemed to be enjoying it. It was hard to gauge her feeling toward the sport; yet she seemed to be having a good time.
After the races we rode back to my place. I was then living in a town called New Hyde Park. My place was located not far from the high school. It was, at most, about twenty-or-so minutes from Roosevelt. As we were riding back to my apartment, I kept sensing something well...unusual about Francine. I just couldn't pinpoint it. She seemed pleasant enough, but yet...
When we reached my place, I excused myself to fix a pot of coffee (actually I boiled some water for instant). I bid Francine sit on the couch and look at some of the magazines (most them were "Hoof Beats" or "Horseman and Fair World").
A few minutes later, I returned with our coffees. I remember we engaged in some small talk. I do recall asking if she'd mind if I threw on the Yankees game to see if it were still on, or if they'd won or lost. I recall the game had gone into extra inning so I took my coffee and flopped down on the bed to watch. To my complete surprise --- a pleasnt one at that --- Francine plopped down next to me.
Well, I'm watching the game when Francine leans over and starts kissing me.
I was pleasantly surprised. Yet, the next thing that happened really surprised me... Francine made a bee-line for my private parts. I mean, "Whoa!" Am I that irresistible? Doubtful. I have to be honest about myself. I didn't then...and don't, to this day, exude animal magnetism. Yet Francine is coming on to me like my "family jewels" are part of some rich vein of ore. I mean not that I didn't enjoy this attention, but -- I have to say -- the whole thing, well...took me aback. I mean it's usually the guy who's the aggressor; and that was just the question that was creeping into my mind at the very moment.
Interestingly, I made some advance of my own toward Francine's breasts; but she parried me like an adept swordsman. Had she been on the college fencing team, as well?
Well, this interlude was going nowhere. Here's a woman who searching for my scrotum; nut..I mean but...I can't lay a glove on her. The whole thing seemed quite bizarre.
A short time later, I suggested we call it an evening and I drove Francine back to her place. To this day, the whole episode, albeit over forty years ago, remains a mystery. And -- I'm sure -- one that will never be solved. Was "She" a "He"? What did they used to say: "Only her hairdresser knows," or maybe JC Hollinsworth III.