young loabe
Late one Saturday evening , Shortly after my 17th birthday , I experienced what was to be a life changing epiphany. Drunk and atop the 200 ft water tower that I had climbed on a dare , I heard what I , at first, thought was the voice of God . "Fool , get your dumb ass down from there! " It turned out instead to be only the bullhorn of the local campus police.
It had begun earlier that evening when Red and I had finished work, cleaned up and hopped into his relic 63 Ford Falcon--"The Foul Coon " as he had sarcastically nicknamed it . Red himself carried the nickname "Dirty Red " because of his striking brownish red hair.
His light, yellowish green, lizard eyes, deep brown skin and gapped front teeth did not help much to reduce the first impression shock value of his appearance . He initially reminded me of something out of a Black "Exorcist" movie when I met him my first day of maintenance work at the Villa Milano Country club , but I just wasn't the type to hold someone else's other than normal appearance against them for very long. I quickly got used to him and as I would later discover , some women even seemed attracted to the unusualness of his looks.
We jumped in the Falcon and rode the 10 or so miles to Wyndham State University and snuck into a campus "beer blast" . Despite our ages, we managed to mingle among the students for over an hour, gulping down as many plastic cups of beer as we could get in our thirsty little hands before finally being discovered .
Our gracious hosts called dorm security . And they , the quite large and ox-like anointed guardians of dormitory protocols and virtues , quickly arrived. Upon realizing that we had no college ID , dorm security promptly threw us out . Our generous hosts , older and more sophisticated kids than us, on campus for RMSST-- something concerning a "Resident Manager Summer Session Training"-- loudly applauded as Red and I were shown the door.
Our "escorts" performed their job with admirable vigor. Perhaps Red and I each having pointed more than once to the welcome banner taped to the wall and asking pretty coeds , " What's RMSST mean ?" had not been the brightest of ideas , but we had only been trying to break the proverbial ice.
I guess we just didn't fit in. We tried to pass as college students with our spirited though brief attempt to match their obvious lust for the cold , frothy , brew contained in the gleaming, magical kegs , but even an hour's way into what we had hoped would eventually build into one of the drunken , campus orgiastic frenzies , we had heard so much about , Red and I stood out like mix matched socks in the window of a Manhattan , Fifth Avenue shoe store and were ejected.
We smoothed our ruffled dignity, uttering the obligatory parting , "Fuck you! " , to show eternal gratitude to our hosts . As if sharing the same joke ,we simultaneously burst out laughing . In our brains' simpleminded and petty way of keeping score -- because of all the free beer we had consumed--despite being thrown out, we were still, "Ahead of the game". Red and I ambled along , "looking for something to get into" . We were baptized and practicing, orthodox idiots, devoutly looking for "fun" . Alcohol or drugs merely confirmed our religious convictions.
Definitely going nowhere , wandering , like moths drifting from this flame to that, we ramble along to any destination that the glow brewing in our eyes will lead. A couple , sitting and holding hands on a campus bench draw closer together as we pass, the girl instinctively clutching her purse tightly to her as the couple's giggles and animated conversation quickly drop to silence .
"Woooooooooo ! Watch out for the boogeyman," Red taunts clearly sensing their fear as we derisively snicker past them.
In the near distance we again hear music , familiar music , our music , harmonious , earthy and soothing. Different from the nerve jangling melodies that we endured earlier at the beer hall and blasted from the occasional dorm windows as we walked across campus . Music sweet and life affirming , not the designed agitation from quasi--Hendrix guitars-- the sometimes close but never quite-- attempted imitations of the late, inspired grand master .
As if magnetized by the welcoming sound and following some subliminal command , our feet quicken .
The music grows louder as we draw closer to its source. The effervescent delight from our swindled beer combines with the melodious lilt now pervading through the warm night . We are lifted along, past dormitory buildings, half vacant in the summer recess.
Engaging saxophones and strings ,pulsing rhythms and a woman's humid ,sweet , lulling , serenade convene together to seduce the air .
"I like the warm weath-er "
" there ain't noth-ing bet-ter "
The tune's hook is being repeated now, monosyllabically in quick succession of clipped notes . The chant of a temptress luring drunken sailors to the rocks. She was irresistible. From somewhere inside me I knew I was lost .
Leaning from a second floor dorm window, a dark eyed lovely rests on elbow and forearms as she sings along with the recording . We are enthralled by the soft wave of unrestrained flesh produced by the movement of her deep cleavage rolling back and forth as she sings .
We stand below, eyes paralyzed by the view . Our hopes, in part, transfixed simply by the tantalizing possibility that she might easily spill from the loose confines of the thin , low-cut blouse as she sways with the flow of the music.
"Look like Baby burned her bra , " Red comments under his breath .
"Yeah, I love Women's Lib " , I reply, my own voice beginning to deepen into an almost growl.
As if carried away by the sight of her , the music, her voice , and of course , the beer , I start dancing for the young woman . Giggling , she pauses her concert and calls to someone next to her in the room .
"Hey , Debbie, look at this crazy guy," she laughs. Quickly , another woman appears in the room's other window .
" Damm! Why the pretty ones always got a fat friend?" I can hear Red grumble under his breath .
The second woman also finds me amusing, enjoying an extended laugh as I work my way down the pavement in mimicry of the Soul Train line .
"It's YO thing , do it baby !" they yell ,encouraging my foolishness. The ladies and Red are cracking up as I continue dancing even after the music ends .
"Dance , baby !" the heavier woman laughs .
"And sing too," the first woman requests.
"Yeah , give US a song ! " she adds.
"No , give Me a song , serenade ME ! " the heavier woman insists .
Continuing to Soul Train , I erupt into song. deliberately off key and reminiscent of the old jazz-blues standard, "My Mama Done Told Me ". It was an exaggerated something I recall one of my crazy uncles using for laughs at family picnics and get-togethers as a child.
"Big mama , big mama,
Let me hear you sing ,
I'll buy you a diamond ring… "
"… Man, you ain't got a damm bit of sense " , Red cracks up as the girls howl with laughter.
"Thank you uncle Jay ", I say inside my head in gratitude for all the clowning he did for the family's entertainment when I was a kid.
Seizing at the moment, I make a request of my own ." Baby ,why don't you c'mon down so we can talk a li'l bit. "
" I can't", the original crooner replies .
"Why not ? " I insist . "I'm 'Bray' and this is my friend 'Red' , we're perfectly safe."
"Hi, I'm Cynthia and she's Debbie . We can't come down because…umm …"
"We got a crimp in our social style , baby ", Debbie interrupted .
"Yeah , we're sorta inconvenienced right now, by administration. " Cynthia chimed .
"Oh " , Red blurted out knowingly , "The moon and the tides , Midol and Pamprin and all that…" Being the older of the two of us by a few months and having previously lived for years in Brooklyn, already father of a child back there-- obviously much more worldly than I-- Red couldn't help but step in , revealing his greater sophistication.
But the ladies' immediate snickering at his remark causes Red's brow to crease a bit with uncertainty.
" You two are wild ", Cynthia chuckles . Debbie's laughter signals her agreement.
"No fool , it ain't that time… " she adds rolling her eyes, "We threw a room party last week and things got a little out of control . We're on administrative curfew until next Thursday . Restricted to the dorm by 10 pm and no visitors till 9 the next morning. "
"Damm , they got 'chall in lock up", Red smirks.
"Don't you know it , baby . that's just what it feels like" , Debbie responds frowning .
"Yeah, I know it " , Red adds so quietly that even I can barely hear it.
"It's a shame you kids' on punishment an' can't come out an' play ," he jokes, making them giggle . Then , turning up his "worldly charm" --even speaking some proper English for a change --he explains.
" I've got my automobile nearby. We could go to a restaurant …have a bite to eat and then maybe swing back to my apartment for coffee. A little Bustello, some good music , perhaps a glass or two of wine, maybe 'roll up ' a few 'drinks' …it could have been a nice little set . A very pleasurable experience ."
I'm quiet , watching the "master" at work. His every word , body language, his glance , the tilt of his head, each pause for effect , his gestures , the unusual lilt in his voice --all spell confidence supreme. Life in the big city has honed his skills to razor intensity . Mentally , I take notes .
The girls look at each other exchanging a tiny smile that only they seem to decode and then Debbie responds. "What about air conditioning , you got air ? This place never heard of air-conditioning and it's so hot up in here." she pretends with her hand at fanning herself ,trying to cool down.
"Yes, my apartment is air-conditioned ." Red clearly is lying , but with my eyes busy again watching Cynthia's breasts jiggle as she adjusts her position in the window, I don't say anything.
"Oh god , it is so hot up in here", Cynthia co-signs Debbie's ' complaint as Debbie simply giggles . Cynthia bends down for a moment out of our view, but we can detect movement . "I just had to come out of these things " , she says as she straightens herself upright .
Dangling from her hand are what, from the sidewalk below, we immediately recognize as a woman's panties . My mouth drops open and I instinctively hard swallow , but the throat is dry. The tongue and lips suddenly parch. The nose can almost detect her scent . Eyes almost sense the steam that must be rising from those panties .
The sight of them, delicate and soft , moist and hanging there from only the tips of her warm fingers, rivets my eyes. The thought of her, so near to nakedness , and so near to me , drives me wild .
I feel the tension building in my chest and racing downwards along the entire trunk of my body, down through the muscles of my legs and arms and back up again . A strange , but familiar force is once again taking over me, compelling me to action.
She looks directly in the eyes and impishly taunts, "It's so hot inside . It's a shame you can't come up here and take me …some where else, baby ."
At that moment, something inside my 17 year old head completely snaps. It is like a dam or a blood vessel has burst . I have absolutely lost my mind and I know all the way down to the marrow in my bones and the fillings in my teeth that if I don't have this woman and have her right now , I know without a doubt that I will keel over and die.
It had begun earlier that evening when Red and I had finished work, cleaned up and hopped into his relic 63 Ford Falcon--"The Foul Coon " as he had sarcastically nicknamed it . Red himself carried the nickname "Dirty Red " because of his striking brownish red hair.
His light, yellowish green, lizard eyes, deep brown skin and gapped front teeth did not help much to reduce the first impression shock value of his appearance . He initially reminded me of something out of a Black "Exorcist" movie when I met him my first day of maintenance work at the Villa Milano Country club , but I just wasn't the type to hold someone else's other than normal appearance against them for very long. I quickly got used to him and as I would later discover , some women even seemed attracted to the unusualness of his looks.
We jumped in the Falcon and rode the 10 or so miles to Wyndham State University and snuck into a campus "beer blast" . Despite our ages, we managed to mingle among the students for over an hour, gulping down as many plastic cups of beer as we could get in our thirsty little hands before finally being discovered .
Our gracious hosts called dorm security . And they , the quite large and ox-like anointed guardians of dormitory protocols and virtues , quickly arrived. Upon realizing that we had no college ID , dorm security promptly threw us out . Our generous hosts , older and more sophisticated kids than us, on campus for RMSST-- something concerning a "Resident Manager Summer Session Training"-- loudly applauded as Red and I were shown the door.
Our "escorts" performed their job with admirable vigor. Perhaps Red and I each having pointed more than once to the welcome banner taped to the wall and asking pretty coeds , " What's RMSST mean ?" had not been the brightest of ideas , but we had only been trying to break the proverbial ice.
I guess we just didn't fit in. We tried to pass as college students with our spirited though brief attempt to match their obvious lust for the cold , frothy , brew contained in the gleaming, magical kegs , but even an hour's way into what we had hoped would eventually build into one of the drunken , campus orgiastic frenzies , we had heard so much about , Red and I stood out like mix matched socks in the window of a Manhattan , Fifth Avenue shoe store and were ejected.
We smoothed our ruffled dignity, uttering the obligatory parting , "Fuck you! " , to show eternal gratitude to our hosts . As if sharing the same joke ,we simultaneously burst out laughing . In our brains' simpleminded and petty way of keeping score -- because of all the free beer we had consumed--despite being thrown out, we were still, "Ahead of the game". Red and I ambled along , "looking for something to get into" . We were baptized and practicing, orthodox idiots, devoutly looking for "fun" . Alcohol or drugs merely confirmed our religious convictions.
Definitely going nowhere , wandering , like moths drifting from this flame to that, we ramble along to any destination that the glow brewing in our eyes will lead. A couple , sitting and holding hands on a campus bench draw closer together as we pass, the girl instinctively clutching her purse tightly to her as the couple's giggles and animated conversation quickly drop to silence .
"Woooooooooo ! Watch out for the boogeyman," Red taunts clearly sensing their fear as we derisively snicker past them.
In the near distance we again hear music , familiar music , our music , harmonious , earthy and soothing. Different from the nerve jangling melodies that we endured earlier at the beer hall and blasted from the occasional dorm windows as we walked across campus . Music sweet and life affirming , not the designed agitation from quasi--Hendrix guitars-- the sometimes close but never quite-- attempted imitations of the late, inspired grand master .
As if magnetized by the welcoming sound and following some subliminal command , our feet quicken .
The music grows louder as we draw closer to its source. The effervescent delight from our swindled beer combines with the melodious lilt now pervading through the warm night . We are lifted along, past dormitory buildings, half vacant in the summer recess.
Engaging saxophones and strings ,pulsing rhythms and a woman's humid ,sweet , lulling , serenade convene together to seduce the air .
"I like the warm weath-er "
" there ain't noth-ing bet-ter "
The tune's hook is being repeated now, monosyllabically in quick succession of clipped notes . The chant of a temptress luring drunken sailors to the rocks. She was irresistible. From somewhere inside me I knew I was lost .
Leaning from a second floor dorm window, a dark eyed lovely rests on elbow and forearms as she sings along with the recording . We are enthralled by the soft wave of unrestrained flesh produced by the movement of her deep cleavage rolling back and forth as she sings .
We stand below, eyes paralyzed by the view . Our hopes, in part, transfixed simply by the tantalizing possibility that she might easily spill from the loose confines of the thin , low-cut blouse as she sways with the flow of the music.
"Look like Baby burned her bra , " Red comments under his breath .
"Yeah, I love Women's Lib " , I reply, my own voice beginning to deepen into an almost growl.
As if carried away by the sight of her , the music, her voice , and of course , the beer , I start dancing for the young woman . Giggling , she pauses her concert and calls to someone next to her in the room .
"Hey , Debbie, look at this crazy guy," she laughs. Quickly , another woman appears in the room's other window .
" Damm! Why the pretty ones always got a fat friend?" I can hear Red grumble under his breath .
The second woman also finds me amusing, enjoying an extended laugh as I work my way down the pavement in mimicry of the Soul Train line .
"It's YO thing , do it baby !" they yell ,encouraging my foolishness. The ladies and Red are cracking up as I continue dancing even after the music ends .
"Dance , baby !" the heavier woman laughs .
"And sing too," the first woman requests.
"Yeah , give US a song ! " she adds.
"No , give Me a song , serenade ME ! " the heavier woman insists .
Continuing to Soul Train , I erupt into song. deliberately off key and reminiscent of the old jazz-blues standard, "My Mama Done Told Me ". It was an exaggerated something I recall one of my crazy uncles using for laughs at family picnics and get-togethers as a child.
"Big mama , big mama,
Let me hear you sing ,
I'll buy you a diamond ring… "
"… Man, you ain't got a damm bit of sense " , Red cracks up as the girls howl with laughter.
"Thank you uncle Jay ", I say inside my head in gratitude for all the clowning he did for the family's entertainment when I was a kid.
Seizing at the moment, I make a request of my own ." Baby ,why don't you c'mon down so we can talk a li'l bit. "
" I can't", the original crooner replies .
"Why not ? " I insist . "I'm 'Bray' and this is my friend 'Red' , we're perfectly safe."
"Hi, I'm Cynthia and she's Debbie . We can't come down because…umm …"
"We got a crimp in our social style , baby ", Debbie interrupted .
"Yeah , we're sorta inconvenienced right now, by administration. " Cynthia chimed .
"Oh " , Red blurted out knowingly , "The moon and the tides , Midol and Pamprin and all that…" Being the older of the two of us by a few months and having previously lived for years in Brooklyn, already father of a child back there-- obviously much more worldly than I-- Red couldn't help but step in , revealing his greater sophistication.
But the ladies' immediate snickering at his remark causes Red's brow to crease a bit with uncertainty.
" You two are wild ", Cynthia chuckles . Debbie's laughter signals her agreement.
"No fool , it ain't that time… " she adds rolling her eyes, "We threw a room party last week and things got a little out of control . We're on administrative curfew until next Thursday . Restricted to the dorm by 10 pm and no visitors till 9 the next morning. "
"Damm , they got 'chall in lock up", Red smirks.
"Don't you know it , baby . that's just what it feels like" , Debbie responds frowning .
"Yeah, I know it " , Red adds so quietly that even I can barely hear it.
"It's a shame you kids' on punishment an' can't come out an' play ," he jokes, making them giggle . Then , turning up his "worldly charm" --even speaking some proper English for a change --he explains.
" I've got my automobile nearby. We could go to a restaurant …have a bite to eat and then maybe swing back to my apartment for coffee. A little Bustello, some good music , perhaps a glass or two of wine, maybe 'roll up ' a few 'drinks' …it could have been a nice little set . A very pleasurable experience ."
I'm quiet , watching the "master" at work. His every word , body language, his glance , the tilt of his head, each pause for effect , his gestures , the unusual lilt in his voice --all spell confidence supreme. Life in the big city has honed his skills to razor intensity . Mentally , I take notes .
The girls look at each other exchanging a tiny smile that only they seem to decode and then Debbie responds. "What about air conditioning , you got air ? This place never heard of air-conditioning and it's so hot up in here." she pretends with her hand at fanning herself ,trying to cool down.
"Yes, my apartment is air-conditioned ." Red clearly is lying , but with my eyes busy again watching Cynthia's breasts jiggle as she adjusts her position in the window, I don't say anything.
"Oh god , it is so hot up in here", Cynthia co-signs Debbie's ' complaint as Debbie simply giggles . Cynthia bends down for a moment out of our view, but we can detect movement . "I just had to come out of these things " , she says as she straightens herself upright .
Dangling from her hand are what, from the sidewalk below, we immediately recognize as a woman's panties . My mouth drops open and I instinctively hard swallow , but the throat is dry. The tongue and lips suddenly parch. The nose can almost detect her scent . Eyes almost sense the steam that must be rising from those panties .
The sight of them, delicate and soft , moist and hanging there from only the tips of her warm fingers, rivets my eyes. The thought of her, so near to nakedness , and so near to me , drives me wild .
I feel the tension building in my chest and racing downwards along the entire trunk of my body, down through the muscles of my legs and arms and back up again . A strange , but familiar force is once again taking over me, compelling me to action.
She looks directly in the eyes and impishly taunts, "It's so hot inside . It's a shame you can't come up here and take me …some where else, baby ."
At that moment, something inside my 17 year old head completely snaps. It is like a dam or a blood vessel has burst . I have absolutely lost my mind and I know all the way down to the marrow in my bones and the fillings in my teeth that if I don't have this woman and have her right now , I know without a doubt that I will keel over and die.
posted by dsekou at 4:07 PM
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