I had not seen her, or even spoken to her, in over thirty years. As soon as I heard her voice again, the rush of adrenaline and love overwhelmed me. It was as if an arrow from Cupid’s bow pierced my heart. I have felt this before, with my rock star, so I knew the feeling was real. It was unbelievable that love could last that long. She felt the same way and wouldn’t meet, for fear of losing control of herself. I met her at a disco bar called 1776 when I was seventeen. It wasn’t legal for me to be drinking. A rather legendary bartender who lived down the block from me owned an interest in the place. When I arrived, he let me in, along with some of my other under aged friends. He was friends with my father and knew I would never say anything. Almost everyone there was older. There were a lot of local college girls there as well.
I had never dated a college girl. I was bouncing between different girls from my high school. At the time, I was throwing keg or victory parties for my classmates at other people’s homes. At almost every one of them, I hooked-up with someone. My father knew we were drinking, but if it wasn’t excessive, he seemed OK with it. Dad drank a lot himself at times and wanted me to be careful, but have fun. Dad was my pseudo wingman that night, even though I didn’t know it at the time. Dad was always my wingman. I try to be that for my own son to this day.
I was almost six-feet tall, one hundred-forty-five-pounds. I was an athlete with very little body fat. I was as obsessed with sports as I was with sex. I ran marathons and earned four varsity letters in high school. My favorite sport was wrestling, but I wasn’t a great wrestler. I was just good enough to give the talented wrestlers a run for their money. On occasions, I could outperform them on sheer heart and conditioning, but I was no match for true grapplers. All the same I was in Olympic condition when I met her. She was dancing with some girls on a mostly empty dance floor. The disco lights were flashing and the DJ was playing the Bee Gees. She was beautiful and sexy in a wholesome way. I don’t remember how, or why, we started dancing. I do remember that we weren’t dancing for long before she started kissing me.
She was several years older than I was and going to college. It was obvious she was extremely popular. In fact, she could easily have been the star of one of those campy college girl-centric movies. She was voted best looking in her high school. If the Brady Bunch had another sister, she would have been it, just a hotter Jewish one. When I met her, I probably was wearing white bell-bottom jeans and a shiny shirt. It was the era of Members Only jackets and crazy styling. We were all following the music and fashion trends. I loved rock and roll. As a young boy, I started listening to fifties music on eight track tapes in my father’s car. I knew my rock and roll. But once disco became the rage and John Travolta was dancing his way into girls’ pants, every guy wanted to be him. And, every girl, wanted to be a disco queen.
But, she was no disco queen while she was going down on me, that very night, at her parents’ house. She had “A Man Needs A Maid” by Neil Young, playing on her stereo. It was a song I never heard before. It was beyond erotic to get head while it was playing. She knew what she was doing, I didn’t. Despite the fact I started young, most of my chapters of love came long after high school. I had girlfriends in high school and loved them all. She was the one who gave me an education. She was as much my sex education college tutor, as she was my girlfriend. For some reason, she was happier when she had my penis in her hand or mouth. As any high school, teenage boy will tell you, finding that in a girl does not come easy. We would hang out at schoolyards, make out and fool around for hours. I always considered her a hippie of sorts, because she was.
We didn’t go out very much, as most of our time was spent in her bedroom listening to music and engaging in hours and hours of sex. She did teach me how to play guitar and she was the first girlfriend I ever photographed. I always loved photography but I never shot any of my girlfriends. It never occurred to me. My parents took the family album shots, so other than people taking photographs of me for the yearbook, I never got into it. Taking photographs of her, with her little instamatic camera, was a turn on. I loved it. She loved it as well, as she was already into photography. She was the impetus for my love of photography as well for the guitar. The incredible sex was more than a bonus.
Thirty years later, she sent me the photos we took of each other in her bedroom, which at the time, became my home away from home. I would run three miles each way to see her. She would teach me how to play guitar, as well as her favorite sex moves. She was the first girl who knew more about sex than I did. At that age, almost every girl I dated was a virgin, until I met her. The closest most would come to sex was playing Spin The Bottle or Truth Or Dare, at parties.
She even looked like a hot schoolteacher. When she came to my high school to pick me up after sports, I felt like a rock star. It was great for my ego. I was very shy. I put on that tough guy, jock attitude to compensate. Most of the guys I knew did. She would drive me everywhere. I didn’t have a car yet. I don’t think I had even gone for my road test at the time. I was so used to running everywhere that I didn’t feel I had a need to. I ran everywhere, even before Forest Gump made it popular. My father had gone from a chain smoker to the founding partner and president of the Long Island Road Runners Club. I was running thousands of miles a year between the off-road races and sports at school. I was a rock. That obsession with sports helped me control my sexual obsession and kept my hormones in check. With her, I didn’t have to. It was a short but extremely happy time in my life. We didn’t date long. I found out thirty years later, she had as many complications in her personal life as I did. College girl or not, she had a lot of growing up to do.
When we spoke thirty plus years later, she literally rubbed one out while catching up with me on the phone. It became apparent as to what she was up to when she started to breathe heavily and climax quite loudly. It was obvious that I had just as strong an effect on her heart as she had on mine. We never dared see each other, as we are both terrified that we wouldn’t be able to control ourselves. She was married and didn’t want to violate her marriage vows. I wouldn’t have wanted to be a part to it either, but then again, I never could control myself when we were together. She was my sexual tutor of sorts in my first college class, Sex 101.