The next week, he left college on a bicycle to peddle to his hometown, Cleveland, for the summer. His friends had a send-off party, and for a finale, he and I showed them a Hollywood kiss.
That should have been the end ’til next fall, but I couldn’t let him go. My best friend at school lived in Cleveland, so I arranged to visit her for a week, and I let him know after I arrived. Surprise!
He was over in a flash when he heard the news—well, the next day really. But he was really happy to see me, and I was really happy to see him. I wore my peasant blouse, jeans, and no bra—his favorite. It was still his favorite, and as we kissed the first time, he slid his hand up underneath my blouse and fondled my breast. This was right in front of my girlfriend but on the side she couldn’t see.
The next week was heaven. His home was a three-story mansion in a really nice part of town, and his dad was a successful businessman. He took me to see his home and his folks, and I was never so excited by his touch.
Speaking of touch, one day, he drove me in his father’s Oldsmobile, which had a bench seat, not buckets. I was wearing the peasant blouse and feeling really vampy. We had just finished touring his dad’s plant. Instead of walking to the passenger side, I followed him. He opened the door, and I was right there beside him, ready to get in. But before I could, he pressed me up against the car, looked around to make sure we were alone, kissed me, and slid his hand up under my blouse to fondle me. And that was not all! I got in, and then he got in. Then I cuddled really close, and he reached his big, long arm around me and once again slipped his hand under my blouse. He was fondling me as we were driving along.
What fun this was. I was glad people really did these things. I was glad I was really doing these things! As I was sitting there having my breast fondled, I couldn’t help thinking how bench seats and automatics had their advantages. We couldn’t have done this in his roadster.
Then … it ended, just like that. He didn’t come back to school fall quarter. Bad grades, I had heard. The school was letting him off for a quarter. I had to bide my time. I had some other friends at the school, and I even got a job at the college. I tried going out with one or two of the other guys in the dorm, but they didn’t work out. They didn’t want to cuddle. They were either cool, or they wanted to fuck and then be cool.
Finally, I couldn’t wait. A couple months into the quarter, I tried calling him. I found out he wasn’t staying in Cleveland, but I got his new number from a mutual friend. A woman answered the phone. He was living with a woman, maybe two, in Utah! I was outraged! I never wanted to see him again!
He came back spring quarter, and he sent me a letter saying he wanted to see me. I called him to tell him I didn’t want to right then. He said, “Okay, call me when you’re ready.”
“Fat chance, buster!” I thought, but I didn’t tell him.
I never heard from him again, although I saw him once or twice on campus. When I did see him, I didn’t talk to him. I was even more upset that he didn’t try to call again.
Should I have called him again? I didn’t know. He was awfully nice when he was nice, but how could he have done that to me? Go off and live with another woman!
Today, I still think about him and those wonderful nights, and sometimes I wonder if he ever thinks of me. When it’s a nice spring night and I see young lovers hugging and kissing, I think of our time.
At those times, I think we had true love, but maybe not the right love.
-- The End --