Remember the Days Before High School, a College Degree and a Mortgage Made You the Corporate Slut That You Are? (1175 hits)
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Submitted by Mountain (View user info) at 2006-04-17 18:28:23 EDT
Memories of childhood are already flooding my mind as I wait, signal flashing, to make the turn into my old neighborhood. I've driven through a handful of times in the ten years since we moved, usually for no other reason than just to remember.
The neighborhood pool is visible from the street, atop a hill about 250 feet above the neighborhood entrance. It's fenced in by rod iron, tennis courts on the west side, tall cottonwoods and pines on all sides and an unremarkable brick pool house under tired wooden shingles which serves as nothing more than an way to regulate operating hours and confirm proof of residence. Its construction is somewhat unique however, in that it's built into the side of the hill. So to get to the entrance, you have to go up a fairly steep grade during which, at its peak, your elevation is higher than that of the pool house roof, until you make the right turn and wind back down into the parking lot.
Being that it cuts into the side of the hill, there are places where the roof is only four to six feet off the ground. And thanks to the placing of a not so well thought out electric box, it was pretty simple to get on to the roof.
A new memory sparks, as it typically does one or twice each visit, as I continue to wait for traffic to pass.
As the cars go by in the opposite lane, it occurs to me that to the hundreds of people that drive on this road everyday, it's nothing spectacular. To me however, it's the location of one of my major rites of passage into manhood.
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It was June 10, 1992 and my 13th birthday had come and gone only weeks earlier. My first real girlfriend had hesitantly agreed to sneak out that night and meet me in the park behind her house. Her parents were pretty laid back, she was the sixth of six kids and by now they let them learn from their own mistakes.
Sneaking out of my parents place wouldn't be so easy.
My Dad's irrational paranoia led him to install a fairly elaborate security system. If a door or window opened, a loud chirp would emit from security keypads strategically located throughout the house... and that was if it was unarmed. Armed, the alarm on our house would wake the entire neighborhood at the most simple (and usually mistaken) sign of intrusion; and it did on multiple occasions.
At any rate, it took some planning.
The Alarm: The way the system knew if a door/window was opened or closed depended on the alignment of two little white boxes about half the size of the cap of a pen. One box was screwed to the top of the door/base of the window and the other to the door jamb/window sill. Right, in 1984 when the house was built security technology wasn't what it is today.
Easy enough.
We had a wrap around deck off the main floor that also worked as a cover for the patio just outside the sliding glass door of the basement, so I figured exiting out the basement would provide the most amount of cover for my break out. To trick the alarm, I made a "C" shaped bracket which had to be made of plastic. When I tested one I made from metal, the system thought the door was open even when it was shut. The top part of the bracket attached to the top of the door jamb and the bottom held the sensor's counterpart in place. The only problem was that my contraption interfered with the door closing, so I had to leave it open a few inches.
My Dad: He would have guys from the neighborhood over a couple times a week. They didn't need much of an excuse, but as luck would have it, that Wednesday was the second game of the NBA Finals between the Chicago Bulls and the Portland Trailblazers. Naturally he had money on the Bulls to win, taking a 2-0 lead in the series. The Bulls were up the majority of the game and my Dad was merrily drinking and chumming it up with his buddies, but it didn't stay very merry for long. My Dad isn't what you'd call a "gracious loser" - especially when money is involved. By the time Jordan turned the ball over to Drexler for the go-ahead lay-up in the closing minute, his bottle of scotch was already empty. I felt confident that if I messed up and somehow set off the alarm, he'd be the last to know and I'd have a few hours to flee to Mexico.
That night before dinner, I was sure to park my kick-ass Huffy mountain bike under the deck near the basement door. Okay, fine... it was a banana seat bike. But it WAS A HUFFY, damnit.
Everything went according to plan. Dad was passed out, my contraption was in place and my bike was waiting.
Then I realized Mom was sleeping in the guest room because the sound of my Dad's intoxicated slumber somewhat resembles a moose being raped by a grizzly bear. ("BearFucker, do you -need- assistance?!")
This poses a problem. The way the top floor of our house lays out has my parents bedroom on the far west side, the kids' bedrooms in the middle and the guest bedroom on the far east side. There are two sets of stairs - one by my parent's room that leads to the foyer and the other by the guestroom that leads to the laundry room. With my abnormally light sleeping Mom in the guestroom, I was trapped. I considered an attempt to sneak by my Dad, any noise I would make being drowned out by moose porno, but only momentarily. He's got that freakish Father/Sixth sense and the only thing worse than a beating from my Dad is a drunken beating.
He didn't really *beat* me, he'd make a fist with the knuckle on his middle finger protruding and slam it against the back of my skull.
Not an option.
Then it hits me. The laundry chute.
The laundry chute is under the sink in the bathroom my brother and I shared and obviously, it leads into the laundry room cabinetry above the washer and dryer. It's about three feet by three feet and six feet long at the most. I open the cabinet doors, get on my hands and knees facing away from the chute and back into it Webster style, pulling the cabinet doors closed behind me.
So, there I was - easing my way down my laundry chute in complete darkness thinking no man has ever gone to such measures just to see a girl.
Did I mention I lived a pretty sheltered existence?
I opened the cabinet doors with my feet and slouched down so my knees were against my chest. I ease one foot out then the other, and gently slide myself down on top of the washer and then to the ground. As I left, I looked back up at the chute with a prideful grin.
Don't tell me that's nothing to be proud about. Hell, MacGyver would have been proud. Yeah - so I didn't make a rope and repelling equipment out of dental floss, combs and toothpaste, but I did cleverly improvise and that's what MacGyver was all about, man.
I made it to the basement, hopped on my kick-ass Huffy Mountain Bike (SHUT IT) and rode out into the night.
I found Mandy waiting for me in the stands of the baseball field that was in the park behind her house. I got off my bike and gave her a kiss. Kissing was still pretty new to me and although there wasn't any tongue, it still made my shorts tight.
"What do you want to do?"
"Come with me."
We continued on foot from there. Holding hands, we headed towards to the neighborhood pool. We cut through yards, using the streets only when it was absolutely necessary. We'd dodge in and out of bushes and between trees; trying to stifle our giggling the whole time.
It was a perfect summer night. The stars were out, there wasn't a cloud in the sky and the temperature would have been just slightly on the side of too hot if it weren't for a calm, cooling breeze.
I didn't know what love was back then, but that night I sure thought I did. There was something about her smile, the way her brunette pony tail bobbed back and forth as we ran and how she made me feel about myself that was so surreal. That, in combination whatever that scent was that 13 year olds wore back then, was so addictingly intoxicating.
We had arrived.
Still holding hands, I took her to the east side of the pool house where the aforementioned electric box waited to help yet another young couple explore the more sinful side of youth. I stepped onto the electric box and then pulled myself up onto the roof. I offered a hand, but Mandy was able to get up with greater ease than I had.
Now on top of the pool house roof it occurred to us, as I'm sure it did everyone at that moment, that we were about 16 feet off of the ground unless we wanted to go back. We looked at each other and she cracked a smirk that said it all.
She stripped down to her underwear and threw her clothes and shoes down to the pavement below.
"We'll never make it!" I whispered.
She took a few steps back to the roof's apex, sprinted towards the edge and jumped.
SPLASH
Frantically, I looked around thinking the entire world just heard that and our night was over. But the night remained static; the only sound was the breeze passing by my ears and the water below.
All I could do was stare, jaw dropped.
"Jesus," I thought. "The pool has to be six or seven feet from the wall of the pool house."
"Jump!" Mandy whispered.
I was the kid that wouldn't jump from rock to rock to cross a creek.
"I can't! I won't make it!"
"Jump!" she repeated.
"It's too loud! We're going to get caught!"
Mandy disappeared under the water for a couple seconds and then resurfaced, but only her head. Again she cracked the smirk she had given me on the roof and slowly held up her bra.
The kid that wouldn't cross the creek jumped. I didn't take off my shoes or any clothes and I don't even remember getting much of a running start.
When I surfaced, she was laughing hysterically.
"You almost landed on me!" she said with a splash.
I splashed back. "I -almost- broke my neck!"
The splashing turned into trying to "dunk" each other... and then it happened.
I TOUCHED A BOOB.
I had totally forgot she was topless. I froze, not knowing how to react.
"Sorry. I didn't mean to."
She came over closer to me, started kissing me and put my hands on both of 'em.
I WAS HOLDING BOOBS.
In my mind: holy shit holy shit holy shit holy shit holy shit holy shit holy shit holy shit holy shit. They're every bit as glorious as I imagined! So soft, so squishy- so....BOYANT! Holy crap! Did she just put her tongue in my mouth?! Holy shit! She did! Holy hell - what if she notices my boner?!
We messed around for a while and ended up dry humping on a lawn chair.
We went to leave, but the door from the pool into the pool house was locked. We had to wait until the person that worked there opened the next day a little bit before six am. She must have been surprised when the two of us darted though, hoping not to be recognized.
Not with my luck. I covered all my tracks and went about my day normally - even hung out with Mandy. When I got home the shitstorm that was occurring in the kitchen from the shit hitting the fan about half hour earlier was no treat.
I was grounded for a month, forbidden to see Mandy, did the yard work of 11 plantation slaves and received plenty of my Dad's patented knuckle-to-the-skull, but it was worth it.
I think the drain bamage he inflicted was minimal.
---------------------
The reason for this trip was to take a look at my childhood home - it's for sale by the second owner.
It's odd walking through the front door as a guest.
They haven't changed much...
User Reviews
Submitted by soccer (user info) at 2006-05-05 15:39:44 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
Auto +2 13 year old sex
Submitted by MyNameIsTim (user info) at 2006-05-04 17:08:15 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
funny...the first time i got two hand fulls of boobs i was 13 also. and it occured in a pool....
you're a fantastic writer.
Submitted by DrBenway0 (user info) at 2006-04-25 02:29:32 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
young girls smelt so good.
Submitted by legallady (user info) at 2006-04-20 21:16:16 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
I like this..and the Amen one too.
Submitted by JonnyX (user info) at 2006-04-18 15:40:56 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
I imagined the theme song from 'Mission: Impossibile' in my head as I read this - it makes the post better!
Submitted by recall (user info) at 2006-04-18 08:11:34 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
No Comment
Submitted by MichelleNJ (user info) at 2006-04-18 08:07:02 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
Yeah really- I'll buy a 6BR house for $130,000. You can't get shit in NJ for $130,000.
Submitted by williamson (user info) at 2006-04-18 05:00:47 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
Boobs...
Boobs...
Submitted by Berty (user info) at 2006-04-18 04:24:20 EDT (#)
Ranking: 1
Submitted by ugoat (user info) at 2006-04-18 04:01:45 (#)
Ranking: 2
I wish I had childhood memories like this.
Submitted by ugoat (user info) at 2006-04-18 04:01:45 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
I wish I had childhood memories like this.
Submitted by Crystle (user info) at 2006-04-17 22:23:10 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
ok.. but I can't spell worth jack
*Substitute*
Submitted by Crystle (user info) at 2006-04-17 22:21:07 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
hehehehe
I notice things like that all the time. More people subsitute words that they think make sense for the proper word than you'd expect. Being something of a word addict, I collect them mentally for reference when I need some amusing.
If you had only ever heard the phrase while seeing such a fence, you'd logically deduce that what you actually heard was "rod" as the fence is made of twisted and tortured rods of iron. Ironically (see what I did there? hehe- bad pun) "wrought" means "worked" (short version of meaning) so it's worked iron... Rod iron makes just as much sense. Etymology is da bomb.
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Submitted by COMountain (user info) at 2006-04-17 19:09:48 (#)
Ranking: 0
"complete corruption of a phrase (WROUGHT Iron, not rod iron)"
Jebus. I didn't have a clue... and I'm a Realtor!
Hopefully this is the first time I've ever written that out - or at least never in a professional manner.
It's all those knuckles to the skull!
Submitted by Professional_Peon (user info) at 2006-04-17 22:15:21 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
Fuck nevermind I'm an idiot. The shot of the library got me all excited. I slipped off my faux pleather chair and banged my head against my cardboard computer table.
I blame the head injury on my temporary inability to read.
*rubs forehead*
I'm off to get an asprin
Submitted by Professional_Peon (user info) at 2006-04-17 22:12:51 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
130k???
You can't even buy a trailer in my town for that. Where is it? I'll buy that one and the one next too it.
Submitted by joedaddy (user info) at 2006-04-17 21:35:41 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
.
Submitted by Stagger_Lee (user info) at 2006-04-17 21:27:40 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
Aaaaahhhhhhhhh...
Submitted by Sacrilicious (user info) at 2006-04-17 21:19:33 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
What a great story. I drive through my old neighborhood now and again, but mine was way shittier.
Banana seats were SO comfortable.
Did she wear Love's Baby Soft? Or Designer Imposters? Depending on your age, I bet she did..
Is it wrong that I got turned on by the antics of a 13 year old girl, just now?
Submitted by ruthless (user info) at 2006-04-17 19:11:58 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
Nice.
Submitted by COMountain (user info) at 2006-04-17 19:09:48 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
"complete corruption of a phrase (WROUGHT Iron, not rod iron)"
Jebus. I didn't have a clue... and I'm a Realtor!
Hopefully this is the first time I've ever written that out - or at least never in a professional manner.
It's all those knuckles to the skull!
Submitted by Crystle (user info) at 2006-04-17 18:56:41 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
Awwww.
Nostalgia
Innocence
youthful adventuring
complete corruption of a phrase (WROUGHT Iron, not rod iron)
this post has it all, and boobies!
Submitted by Deconstruction (user info) at 2006-04-17 18:53:02 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
YOU. GET MORE REVIEWS.
Submitted by Deconstruction (user info) at 2006-04-17 18:33:07 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
BOOB
Submitted by BrownEyedGirrl (user info) at 2006-04-17 18:32:48 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
+2 for the Boobies.... good story!!