MAKING PROGRESS... of sorts (Part 172bb)

MAKING PROGRESS… of sorts (Part 172bb)

When I got home I found the kids playing in the immediate backyard just off the patio. As I walked up to them asked why they were playing there. Jean, the oldest, answered that they were told to while Elle took a nap on the den sofa. The den looked right out on that part of the yard so it made sense. I went inside and saw Elle was in a deep sleep and tried to be as quiet as possible as I changed clothes. My plan was to first build a temporary easel in the garage and then to rough sketch in the lettering. It didn’t take long to be ready to start but before I did Jean came into the garage to ask if she and her sisters could go next door to play. Remembering the incident from the previous week when Martha’s daughter invited herself over to our yard I hesitated giving an answer. Jean was anxious for permission so I asked who’s idea was it and, like magic, Mattie turned the corner of the garage. She quickly explained that she’d invited our girls over for lemonade and cookies but Jean had told her they couldn’t because their mommy had told them they could only play where they were. I explained that Elle was resting just inside in the den and wanted to be able to keep track of the girls. I made the decision to let them go but told them not to stay too long. I didn’t think much of it at the time.

I don’t know how long it was before I heard Elle’s voice calling for them. I popped out from inside the garage to see Elle heading through the opening in the hedge that separated the two properties. I called out to her but was too late to catch her attention so hustled over to the opening. As I walked into the yard I was about ten or so steps behind Elle and was a bit taken aback at what I was looking at. As Elle’s pregnancy had progressed so had her incontinence. She’d learned that to be ‘safe’ she needed to be wearing at least a ‘partial package",  even around the house. When taking a nap or out in public it definitely she had to wearing a ‘full package’. With her expanding waist line and now being warmer weather she’d taken to wearing her knit shorts and slacks because they had elastic at the waist and they stretched in ‘other places’. But… when I saw her I knew her ‘package’ was full of urine and the bulges it created were very obvious. As I caught up to her I was torn between coming right out and telling her of my observation or asking why she’d run over there in the first place. Mattie had set up her chaise on the far side of the patio so wasn’t really in a good position to observe Elle’s bulges. I told her I’d take care of the situation and for her to go on back home. She was totally unaware of what she looked like so proceeded to question me why. That gave Mattie a chance to get up and to come over to talk with us. Once I saw her headed our way there wasn’t much I could say or do.

Elle managed to ‘cover’ the reason why she’d come over to Mattie's yard  explaining that when she’d woken up and seen the girls were gone she panicked and come running out of the house looking for them. She said she hoped that they’d just gone next door and just ran through the hedge. Mattie was smiling while Elle explained herself. I kept my eyes on her eyes while this was taking place hoping she wouldn’t look down and would keep her eyes on Elle’s face. Elle apologized and as she did she asked if it was time for supper. I knew why she asked. When she saw that I was home thought it was supper time. Mattie was the one to answer and told her it wasn’t quite that late and asked what time she wanted the girls back home. When Elle gave her a time I put my hand on her shoulder and turned her towards the opening stepping in right behind her. It was my intention to protect her backside ‘bulge’ from Mattie’s view. For some reason Elle resisted me and stepped out from my hold and headed over to where the all the girls were playing a game on the patio. I hoped she would resist the urge to bend over to talk with them but she didn’t. I made an attempt to divert Mattie from following her but that turned out to be fruitless because she'd started following her. I could only imagine what she was thinking when she saw Elle’s backside. There was nothing I could but stand and wait for Elle. I never said a word until we were back in our yard. I stopped her and asked if she had any idea of how she looked. I clearly remember her shaking her head like she didn’t. I told her to feel her butt and that’s when it ‘hit’ her. She might’ve let out an “Oh no!” but I’m not sure. She looked at me and I could see the embarrassment in her face. I don’t remember what she said but she was clearly concerned about what Mattie might’ve thought.

She headed for the house to get cleaned up and I returned to the garage and the sign. I’d not lost that much time with the interruption but I’d wanted to get as much done before it got dark. The supposedly longest day of the year had been Saturday so I figured I still had about four hours time. I was really ‘into it’ as far as getting my sketch onto the face of the sign when Elle appeared in the doorway. I could tell from the look on her face she was really concerned about what had just taken place. She wanted to know what I thought she should do about it… face up to it and tell Mattie and, for all intents and purposes, Martha, about her condition or… not say anything and hope for the best. I didn’t know what to tell her. In my mind I was thinking that neither of the women knew anybody locally so that was a viable choice. But, then again, the women would be a part of Elle’s Summer and the  situation would probably come up again. I really wanted to get on with the sign but I could see Elle was struggling with what to do. I hated to see her be embarrassed so told her to be honest about it and to tell them and just ask/beg them to make it a ‘secret’ between the three of them. She isn’t say anything except to say supper would be ready soon and turned and walked away.

Basically, there was no conversation at the supper table other than the kids telling about what they’d done while next door. I was on my back to the garage when she stopped me to say she was going to call them up and arrange a lunch-time meeting. I told her I’d support whatever she decided to do. This situation reminded me of something my grandfather had told me many times and that was to tell the truth. That way they’d know what Elle had to live with and, hopefully, put the situation to rest and end speculation. She looked at me and smiled and I knew I’d made a bit of a comeback from where I’d been the latter part of the previous week.

By the time the daylight had faded so that I couldn’t see clearly I’d gotten most of the layout sketched onto the face of the sign. I went into the house confident that I’d be able to get it lettered by the same time the next day. During the whole mental ordeal about doing the sign I’d not given any thought to the $80 (cash) I’d get for doing the sign. That thought got me to wondering about the aluminum cylinder heads the race team had just gotten and the fact that we hadn’t paid for them. We had the credit at the Chevy dealership that Lynda’s father-in-law owned but I wasn’t sure how we’d get to use it. Money, money money! Like the saying goes… it’s what makes the world go ‘round.

To be continued…
 

MAKING PROGRESS... of sorts (Part 172aa)

MAKING PROGRESS… of sorts (Part 172aa)

It was a mish-mash of a meal but everyone got fed. The big ‘winner’ was Elle's strawberry pie with not a bit of it left over. The kids, all of them, ate sitting on the lawn which they thought was funny but they enjoyed the freedom of it. The adults kind of ‘tip toed’ around anything of importance which was OK with one exception as I wondered where Mattie and Junior’s father was since he was the one who had bought the house. I wanted to ask but had a feeling that it wouldn’t go over well with everybody there. I decided to put the question off until Junior and I were better acquainted and it was just the two of us. We all decided that it was cooling off and should start picking things up. Mattie headed over to where the kids were and proceeded to start picking up the paper plates and cups they’d been using. Short skirts have always drawn my attention and my eyes had kept a close watch on her all evening but with little to show for it… until then. The first time she bent over I remember wishing I could get lower in my folding chair. My guess is that I was within an inch of seeing what I longed to see… but didn’t. I remained seated drawing a rebuke from Elle for not helping. Reluctantly, I started to get up and when I did the pocket on my shorts hooked the arm rest of the folding chair I was in causing me to lose my balance. I still had a glass in my hand when I fell and as I did it flew out of my hand. It headed in the direction of where the kids had been eating and I watched it flying through the air hoping that it wouldn’t hit any of them. Then I saw Mattie try to duck away from it… and trip over one of the kids. By then I was up on my knees, almost in a crawling position… and looking right at Mattie's pantie crotch. It was for probably no more than a few seconds. But why it stands out in my mind so vividly is that it was the widest crotch I’d ever seen. The panties were white and I thought they were full briefs. As the two of us struggled to get up I think we were both embarrassed. If Elle had seen it happen I know I would’ve heard about it but nothing was said. The end result was a fervent desire to find out about those panties. With the Summer just beginning I had a good feeling about my chances.

Back at home Elle asked me to follow up on getting the kids washed up and to bed as she was exhausted. She headed straight for bed and it wasn’t even fully dark out. I was concerned because her tiredness seemed to be getting worse day by day but she insisted she would be fine in the morning. It was way too early for me to go to sleep so I retreated to the den and my recliner to watch TV. I’d just got settled when the phone rang. Not wanting it to disturb Elle I rushed to pick it up and found “Big B” on the line. My first question was to ask where he was thinking he had a problem. Once we got past that he wanted to know what was going on with the cylinder heads. I didn’t know just what he meant and innocently asked what he was referring to. I listened to him describe what, at best, had been a bizarre scene. The destination he was directed to go to was a loading dock for a furniture company. The guy he met didn’t have the heads but gave him directions to another place and was told to stay in his car until a guy in a green Chevy Camaro drove into the parking lot. Then he was to get out and open the trunk of his car and get back in. “B” said he waited about 20 minutes before he saw the green car and then did what he had been told to do. He went on that in just a few minutes he felt the back of his car go down and heard something  go ‘thud’ in the trunk followed by another. Then the trunk lid was slammed shut. He said he tried to see what the guy looked like but he was already getting in his car. “B” said he took a look in his trunk and saw two cylinder heads wrapped in plastic. There was nothing at that point for him to do except head for home. While he was telling me this I was thinking back to the conversation I’d overheard Robob  having with his friend up in Buffalo and how I’d questioned (to myself) why money hadn’t been discussed. Now, this added to the mystery. “B” did say he’d delivered the heads to Cliffy at his house and he’d looked them over and found nothing wrong with them. He also said Cliffy knew nothing about the money arrangements either. I told ”B” that I hoped if it turned out to be as “fishy” as it sounded that he wouldn’t be implicated. All I heard before he hung up was a “Me too!”. I returned to my recliner and never paid any attention to the TV. Now I had another thing to be concerned about. It was still bothering me when I finally went upstairs to bed.

At the bank on Monday I was looking forward to a couple of easy days as far as lobby traffic was concerned. The “busy period” started on Thursday and Bret, Trish and Lorie assured me they were prepared for the ‘crush’ of customers that would come in just to get the interest on their accounts posted to their passbooks. I’d not had a chance to do anything before Joanie told me that one of the Trustees was on the phone for me. As soon as I heard the sound of his voice I knew who it was… the Trustee who wanted the sign painted. When he’d had the wood dropped off there was a note attached that basically spelled out what he wanted on it. But, and the ‘but’ was rearing it’s ugly head in the form of the phone call, there was no date for completion on it. When I heard him say he needed it by Wednesday it was like blow to the head with a 2x4. If I were a professional sign painter it would take me about 3 hours to complete it. But, I only dabbled in it and it took me a LONG time to crank out a finished product. I was so upset I don’t know what I said to him (if anything) and sat there wondering what I was going to do. Hobie, my immediate boss, walked by and saw me just staring into space so stopped and asked what was on my mind. I started to slough him off but after working with me for almost four years he knew me well enough to almost order me to “spill it”. Reluctantly, I gave him the details. Almost immediately he had the solution… take the next day off as a sick day. I’d never taken a sick day since I was hired and had over three weeks time accumulated. To that suggestion he told me to take off early that afternoon. I have to admit that as he walked away I was finally able to breath normally again.

I let Trish and Bret know I was leaving early and wouldn’t be in the next day just telling them it was a personal matter. I stayed until 3pm when the doors closed to the public. I’d called Cliffy around noon time and he said he was working on preparing the heads. The valve seats had to be reground for the valves we were using and he also had to put the rocker arm studs in as well. I told him I had a project due for work (which was partially true) and told him if I wasn’t needed that night I’d be there the following one. When he told me they had to get special head gaskets and they wouldn’t be there until Wednesday I knew I was home free. He added that he hoped we’d be able to start the motor on Thursday and we’d go racing Saturday. It was good new… at last.

To be continued…

MAKING PROGRESS... of sorts (Part 172z)

MAKING PROGRESS… of sorts (Part 172z)

Conceding that I needed to pay more attention to Elle and the kids and to be “a better husband and father” I joined them at the 10am service at church. It was the last Sunday school for the duration of the Summer and the attendance and participation awards were handed out. The older two girls were excited to be recognized and as a reward they were told we’d go sailing that afternoon. I wasn’t looking forward to it because when I’d been at the sailing club the previous day I tested the water and it was cold... very cold. Elle wanted no part of it so it was up to me to sacrifice my comfort and to get wet. The kids were able to stand the cold water for about an hour before they admitted they had had enough. The one good thing that was accomplished was that all the parts and pieces for the boats were there and worked. The first time out each season was usually an ‘adventure’ but we were actually ahead of most everybody else. It was a nice feeling to go with the excitement the kids had shown getting back to sailing. For Elle, it made her a little sad because she wouldn’t be able to be all that competitive because of her pregnancy.

We ended up back home earlier than expected which was OK by me. Elle wanted to take a nap so it gave me some time to work on the dreaded sign. Once the girls and I were showered and dressed Elle suggested that they go next door to see if the neighbors kids wanted to play with them and asked me to go with them. I really wanted to get started on the sign but, again, wanting to be a “good father and husband” I agreed. It was about mid afternoon when we walked through the opening in the hedge. The first thing I saw was this rather large older woman sunning herself in a chaise on the new patio. There was no sign of anyone else. I thought the woman might be asleep so headed the kids back towards our yard. Then I heard it. It sounded like the bellow of a sick cow, a sound we would hear from time to time from across the road from the dairy farm. It was the woman yelling at us wanting to know why we were on her property. At first I wanted to keep on going as the tone of her voice was anything but friendly. However, it immediately brought forth two people from inside the house. It was Junior and Matty, the adult children of the owners. Matty ran up to me apologizing as she did. She quickly explained that the woman was her mother and was still “settling in”. She added that her mother was a ”private person” and liked her privacy. While this conversation was taking place Junior was placating his mother. Kaye had ducked back through the hedge opening and the other two were sort of cowering in the opening itself.

Matty insisted that we all come over to be introduced to her mother. As we made our way over she explained that her real name was Genevieve but because of the grandkids insisted that everybody call her Geemaw. It came about because the grandchildren hadn’t been able to pronounce Genevieve and sort of mangled grandma. It was decided that the compromise would work. I had the hands of both Anne and Jean as we walked up to her. I’ve never been good at guessing the age of people past 50 and, as for Geemaw, I had no idea. Based on the age that Matty had admitted to being a safe guess would’ve been in her 60’s. However, when she spoke she sounded older with a deep voice that I’d come to associate with heavy cigarette smoking. Even with Junior and Matty right there she was still not comfortable with having me and the kids there. Matty did the introductions and all the woman did was grunt. Then her grandchildren appeared and she mellowed up a bit. I chose that time to ask Matty if the kids would like to come over and play in our playhouse. Of course, when they heard that they were excited and Matty excused them and I let my kids hands go. They were like bullets going back through the hedge. However, they’d been my ‘buffer’ to the older woman’s stare and now I didn’t know what to say or do.

Junior noticed my unease and pointed out to the back of the property and headed that way. To get there we had to walk past the garage and I asked if my ‘fix’ of the garage door had sufficed. He didn’t know anything about it so we stopped to take a look. While inside Martha, Junior’s wife appeared in the doorway. With the sun behind her and wearing a light cotton sundress she was like a silhouette and reminded me of the last time I’d seen her when she wearing a tennis dress. Matty soon joined us and she explained to Junior and Martha how I’d made the garage secure right after some of their things had arrived. And then she proceeded to invite me, Elle and the kids for a little picnic supper on their patio as a ‘thank you’. It was totally unexpected and without Elle there I was reluctant to give an answer. But, it did give me an excuse to get back to my house saying I’d get back to them. On my way I was debating with myself knowing it was the neighborly thing to do but would mean nothing would get done on the sign.

Elle made the decision. We’d go and she’d make the dessert. The strawberry season had been late that year and were still available. My mother had a recipe for a strawberry pie that was decadent. I was dispatched to go to the only food store that was open to get cream for whipping (Sunday openings still hadn’t taken over the retail marketplace) while Elle baked the crust. She got word to the neighbors that we’d be coming and 5pm was set for the time. I told Elle about Geemaw and warned her to be prepared. She asked about the father and I’d not given him any thought at all so had no answer. I thought back to when J J, had introduced him to me at the bank and how ’stand-offish’ he’d been. I was having second thoughts as we all made our way through the hedge.

It was obvious that the invite had been last second as there was little in the way of preparation. I had to go fetch some lawn chairs and a folding table to go with the one they had set up. Elle was the one to ask about Geemaw and when I heard Junior say she preferred not to join in with her kid's friends I think I breathed a sigh of relief. That was when I took a few seconds to look at what both the women were wearing. Both had changed and Martha was wearing white shorts with colored polka dots and a short sleeved top with lace trim. It was another outfit that I could see Elle wearing. Matty had on a short pink skirt with a pink and white blouse. For some reason the combination made her look thinner than when she was wearing shorts. The two women engaged Elle in conversation and as they drifted in and out of the house it left Junior and I alone. I knew nothing about what he did so chose that as a topic.

If you’ve been reading this for any time now you know that I was just getting involved with the stock market. I’d been given some advice by Stan, my broker, that had paid off handsomely for me. Junior worked on Wall Street but not with stocks or with ‘retail’ customers like me. He was with start-up firm that dealt with all kinds of bonds and they sold them to brokerage firms. I didn’t know much about stocks and even less about bonds and as he described his job I found myself fascinated. I remember the word he used to describe his company calling it a “niche” firm and it was obvious he was excited about what the future would be like after they got established. I was about to ask for some details when the women and kids burst out of the kitchen door with the food.

To be continued…

MAKING PROGRESS... of sorts (Part 172y)

MAKING PROGRESS… of sorts (Part 172y)

By the time Elle and the kids got back home I’d mowed both the church and house lawns and put a primer coat of paint on the sign… and, with the added work I’d done at the sailing club, by then I was tired and hungry. Two hot dogs and a coke was all that I’d consumed for the day. I was also ready to call a ’truce’ with Elle. I pretty much knew why Elle was so upset… lack of communication on my part. However, with the 'silent treatment'  now in the third day the only way the situation was going to change was… to communicate. I’d avoided confrontation but that wasn’t working so decided to ‘attack’ and to bring the stand-off to an end. I planted myself on the patio by the doorway to the kitchen. The kids came up the path first and I sent them inside with orders to go upstairs and get washed up for supper. Elle soon followed and as she approached I saw she was avoiding looking at me. I walked in front of her preventing her from entering which forced her to look at me. When she did I told her this had to stop and I wanted her to tell me, in words, what it was that I’d done that was so wrong. There was no hesitation in her answer… “You’re not being a good father and husband!”

I’ll spare you the rhetoric and just say that took about 20 minutes before we mutually agreed to sit down and talk the whole thing out after we’d eaten supper. There was still some tension while eating but there was some civil conversation, mostly with the kids. I was able to mention that I’d met Martha’s husband. It was obvious Elle hadn’t as she asked about him. I casually mentioned that Martha had gone up to the school to hit tennis balls off the backboard and asked if she had played any more with her. She sort of made a face and said she hadn’t. When I asked why she shrugged her shoulders and said she just didn’t feel like it. That surprised me because normally she’d drop everything to go hit some balls. I didn’t dwell on it choosing to keep the conversation ‘light’. To keep things on the ‘light’ side I offered to and did help cleaning off the table and doing the dishes (no dishwasher). It was still warm, not the true Summertime warm, but light jacket/sweater warm so we sent the kids out to the playhouse. That gave us privacy and we ended up on the screened in porch for the first time. It was a bit awkward but since I’d taken the initiative I asked for Elle's definition of “A good father and husband…”.

She didn’t have one but I knew her well enough to know that someone had planted a ’seed’ in her mind. I was right and she told me she’d met some people new to the community at the last PTA meeting that she liked. One of the women, in describing her husband, said she had the perfect mate and proceeded to describe him. The big ‘take away’ for me was that he would eat breakfast with his kids and was, supposedly, home to eat dinner with them at night. I sat and listened without questioning anything. There was a period of silence that followed and I wasn’t going to take the ‘bait’ and get into an unwinable discussion so waited for Elle. She gave in and asked my opinion of the “good father” she’d just described. I just sat there with a little smirk before finally asking just what it was that that this ‘perfect mate” did for a living. She then told me he ran a used book store that he’d just started. That made me smile which, in turn, visibly bothered Elle. I waited for a bit and then told her that as his own boss, with no employees, he could pick and choose what he did at just about any time at all. He could pick and choose his obligations as he saw fit to do. That was the opening that I needed and proceeded to go on a bit of a rant about the ramifications of my working at the bank. I told her I didn’t have just one “boss” but had multiple ones… all the Trustees as well as the President and senior Vice President. As a junior officer I was expected to do as requested and pointed at the sign leaning against the side of the garage. I was on a roll by then and told her I no more wanted to do that sign than run naked down the street… but it was for a Trustee. Continuing on, I listed the five committees I’d been placed on by the bank that required me to attend meetings that would keep me from being home to eat dinner with her and the kids. I didn’t stop there saying there was also my being on the Vestry at the church and participation at the sailing club that were on a personal, family level. I finished by mentioning my involvement with the race car saying that was the one and only thing that I did that was for my own personal pleasure… although I quickly questioned myself why I'd done that knowing Elle's dislike of racing.

Elle knew me well enough not to interrupt once I got started but I could see she was ‘itching’ to say something. Not wanting to lose my train of thought I kept on going and I guess you could say I ‘attacked’ her when I made the statement that once she was done with her daily chores she was free to do whatever it was that she wanted to do and I didn’t have that type of liberty. I had to do my household “chores” like lawn, house maintenance, pay bills and spend time with the family while trying to squeeze in some time for myself. I stopped with that point made and took a deep breath. We sat there looking at each other without saying anything for a minute or two. Then, I saw a ‘form’ at the screen door, It was Martha from next door. Elle invited her in but all she wanted to do was apologize for the fact that her daughter had come through the opening in the hedge and invited herself to play with our kids out at the playhouse. Elle insisted that she come on in and when she did I had to do a bit of a ‘double take’ when I saw what she had on. It was some sort of cover-up like you might wear over a bathing suit and I had to catch myself from staring right at the rear hem of it as she addressed Elle. By then the sun had set and the evening shadows were prevalent so colors were muted but I was absolutely positive that I was looking at panties covering the lower part of her butt cheeks. With her looking at Elle she couldn’t really see that much of me and I remember hoping that she'd make some sort of gesture with her arms to raise the hem just a little bit. I was so ‘taken’ with what I was looking at that I hadn’t paid any attention to the conversation until I heard Martha apologize for the way she was dressed and that she’d just exited the shower and discovered her daughter was “missing”. That, at least, explained the manner of dress. When she turned to leave I was disappointed that the front of the cover-up was halfway down her thighs.

Martha’s appearance couldn’t have been timed better. She was there long enough to let whatever ’shock’ effect what I’d said to Elle simmer down. As Martha walked away Elle turned to me and, shaking her head up and down, agreed that we both needed to communicate better with each other… but with one caveat… that as hard as it may be for me I had to let her know when my plans changed. If I tell her in the morning that I’d be home by 6pm and I’m not going not going to make it… find some way to let her know at least a half hour before that. There was some ‘give and take’ dialog that followed that but she definitely made her point. We hugged and then went out to bring the kids in for the night. One thing I was definitely looking forward to was sleeping in my bed that night.

To be continued…

MAKING PROGRESS... of sorts (Part 172x)

MAKING PROGRESS… of sorts (Part 172x)

One thing I remember about that moment was Cliffy standing there with the phone receiver down by his side and shaking his head. Robob was the first to speak and he said he’d call his contact back. Cliffy told “Big B” to call back in about a half hour and let him know what to do. I thought the whole deal was over but listened as Robob talked to his friend. When I saw him smile and give a ‘thumbs up’ signal I couldn’t imagine what was going on. None of us knew the relationship of Robob’s contact with him but it was strong enough for him to release the cylinder heads over to “Big B” without money changing hands. I wasn’t about to question it. All I knew was that we needed cylinder heads to be able to race and, supposedly, we were going to get them. When “Big B” called back he was given the information to make contact with Robob’s friend. The bad news was that “B” wouldn’t be back until Sunday. For me, hearing that was almost as good as finding that we were going to be able to get the heads as it would give me all day Saturday to get to some of the things I needed to do. When we left the shop it was the happiest I’d seen the others since we won on opening night. We all were convinced we’d be racing the following Saturday night and couldn’t wait.

For me, it was another night in my recliner. It meant for an early start in the morning. My agenda included getting our Sunfish sailboats down to the sailing club; continuing with the opening up of the sailing club facilities; mowing both the lawn at the house and the church and then working on the sign. I started with getting the boats out of the garage and down to the club. As I mentioned before, Rex, the unpaid facilities manager of the club, had been injured at work and had convinced his brother to fill in for him the previous weekend. But, John was not as organized as his brother and even after a whole day there was still a lot left to do. The official club opening was the following weekend, so Rex, although not able to do any physical labor, had stepped in (as usual) and got commitments from some of the male club members and their wives to get the necessary items taken care of. Upon my arrival I saw Rex propped up in a  rocking chair at the base of the clubhouse steps. There was a lot of ‘action’ around the back of the building and I asked what was going on. With a scowl on his face he told me the company that usually got the sand out of the cesspools had been sold and the new owner wouldn’t let his equipment go out onto the beach. Rex contacted with a local landscaper and they had sent some workers to dig the sand out by hand. But, the ‘action” I’d noticed was a couple of the members propping some of the storm shutters up against the back side of the clubhouse. With no water there were no bathrooms and what was being created was to provide some privacy when the ladies needed to ‘go’ under the clubhouse. Needless to say, my perverted mind went into overdrive.

The male members had all the furniture out of the building by mid morning which allowed the ladies, who started arriving about then, the ability to give the facilities a good cleaning. One set of stairs needed to be rebuilt so John, Marty (the guy who’d joined the club at the end of the previous season) and I took on that project. It had us working in the front of the building and as we progressed I noticed that I could get a brief glimpse when the women would duck behind the propped up storm shutters. It was anything but a clear line of sight but it was still a bit titillating to watch them pull their shorts or pants down and then squat to pee. As in past years the club paid for hot dogs and hamburgers for lunch with the ladies doing the cooking. Since I’d been there the previous weekend I told Rex I’d be leaving in the early afternoon. By then the cesspools had been cleared of sand and John was about to turn the water on. I observed one of the ladies doing a ‘pee dance’ right after the announcement. (The power of suggestion?) I decided to stick around for a few more minutes ‘just for kicks’. The woman had started up the stairs and when I figured she was going to make it turned towards the parking lot. Then I heard Marty call and turned around to see him jogging towards me with a hammer in his hand. I’d forgotten it and as I turned back could see the woman who had the ‘problem’ now with one hand jammed between her legs. From where Marty and I were there was no reason for me to head in her direction without it being obvious. Marty turned back to where he’d come from and I was left standing in the path to the parking lot with the hammer in my hand… and trying to see the outcome of the woman’s predicament… but couldn’t bring myself to take the chance of embarrassing both of us by heading for the stairs. Sadly (for me) I never found out what happened but I sure had a fantasy or two about it.

Back at home the station wagon was gone which, for the moment, was a good thing. Staring at the board to be used for the sign made me mad all over again. In getting the sailboats out of the garage I’d left things in disarray but, my anger over the sign made me say “screw it!” to myself and headed for the shed out behind the garage to get the lawn mower. To get there I had to walk along the property line that separated my land from the farm. As I did I saw a man attempting to dig a hole into the berm that acted as the separator for both our properties. I’d met the new owner’s daughter and sister-in-law but hadn’t yet met the husband (the owner’s son) and thought this would be a good time to do it… and to possibly prevent him from doing something that he shouldn’t be doing with his digging. I introduced myself and was told he went by the name of “Junior”. I, being a ‘junior’ myself, smiled and asked if there was a reason. He laughed and proceeded to ask if I’d like to go through life as “Murgatroyd” (sp?). I noticed right away that he certainly wasn’t dressed appropriately for what he was doing so asked abut that. He told me he was digging a pit to compost garbage because his mother liked to use natural fertilizer on her plants. I didn’t see his wife, Matty, approach but when I did I had to smile (to myself) as she was wearing a tennis dress. The prevailing wind in the afternoons was from the Southwest and it had started to pick up. I watched her take the last few steps towards us and could see the hem sort of flouncing up and down. If I’d been on my knees there might’ve been something to see. I could only look that way for a short period of time to avoid being obvious. Martha had come out to see how long Junior would be as she was off to the school tennis courts to hit against the backboard. She wanted her husband to look after their daughter but, for some reason, didn’t want her out near the farm. When I’d seen Junior trying to dig the hole I saw he was struggling a bit and this request was his excuse to get out of it. He put the shovel down, looked at me telling me we’d have to get together soon and walked off with his wife. It was perfect for me… with the wind behind her it caught the hem of her skirt and lifted it up for a few brief (pun intended) seconds reminding me that the new neighbors might be worth getting to know.

To be continued…

MAKING PROGRESS... of sorts (Part 172w)

MAKING PROGRESS… of sorts (Part 172w)

With but four days until the ‘busy period’ started, lobby traffic was all but non existent. I checked on the transaction count at 11am and we’d waited on but 20 customers in the two hours we’d been open. I also followed up on the call the Trustee had made concerning painting a sign. I didn’t have the nerve to turn him down and was told that a 4’ by 8’ sheet of plywood would be delivered to my house that afternoon. When I hung the phone up I was really mad at myself for not saying I couldn’t do it. I was sitting at my desk thinking of all the other things I had to do over the weekend when Joanie walked up to break me out of my mini stupor. She pointed to the entry gate to the platform and I almost couldn’t believe my eyes. It was Paul, one of the vendors I’d used for specialty items. The last I’d seen or heard from him about a year ago. At that time he was in the process of getting out of the business and starting a newsletter that was to cover interest rates on the ‘new rage’ taking over in the banking industry… Certificates of Deposit, or CD's. It had been his intention to gather rates from banks all over the country and feature those with the highest and sell subscriptions. Since I hadn’t heard from him I thought he’d gone ahead with his plan… but here he was, at the gate. Paul was tall, about 6’4”, and the guy with him about a foot shorter. I smiled at the image they projected. I went up to greet him and thought he was going to shake my arm off in the process. The first thing out of my mouth was to ask about the newsletter and he proceeded to reach into his jacket and pull out a copy… “Bank Rate Newsletter”. I immediately thought he was going to ask me to buy a subscription which brought forth a laugh.

I invited both of them to my desk and was then introduced to Roger. Roger was a childhood friend of Paul’s wife back in England and had come for a visit. But, I wasn’t interested in Roger. I wanted to know what brought Paul all the way out to the bank from the city. That brought forth another laugh… and a quick explanation. His projections on the acceptance of the newsletter had been way off and he’d had to revert to his old sales job to ‘survive’. The bank had been a good customer for a number of years and he wanted to approach me in person rather than with a phone call… which I thought was nice (and smart). Then he told me that the word was out that we’d be opening a new branch. That kind of shocked me so I asked where he’d heard that. “The State Banking Department” was his answer followed by the fact that all branch applications became public knowledge once submitted. I remember wondering why I’d been led to believe that information was kept in abeyance until the application was approved. I quickly brought him up to date on that saying that it was looking like the opening would be in the following year. With that out of the way we started in with the personal stuff.

Paul and is wife had met Elle at the grand opening of the branch and he, being polite, asked about Elle. I told him about her pregnancy and let slip that I was “in the doghouse”. Roger had been pretty much an observer up to then. Upon hearing that he piped up, in his cockney accent, we should plan a trip to Bermuda to "patch things up". I remember thinking ‘where did that come from?’ It turned out that Roger was the manager of a cottage colony in Bermuda. When I told him we’d just been there he, of course, wanted to know where we stayed. When I told him he said that his place was basically next door… and started ‘selling’ the site to me. It seemed like Paul was aiding him because he said that he and his wife would be going in September. As part of Roger’s ‘pitch’ he told me if I had any interest at all to call him at any time and we’d have a room. He just happened to have a picture brochure with him. Monetarily, and with Elle pregnant, I told him it was impossible but thanked him for the offer. He said the offer was good for as long as he was the manager. All I could do was smile.

I got home to find the wood for the sign up laying up against the garage door. It made me mad all over again. I was surprised to find Elle had made supper for me. However, she still wasn’t speaking. I asked a couple of questions but only got a ‘glare’ as a response. While eating, the phone rang and our oldest daughter, Jean, was on ‘phone duty’ for that day. She answered it and came back to say it was Cliffy. I watched Elle’s eyes roll after she heard Jean utter the words. I could recognize from the tone of his voice that it was something important and he wanted to know how fast I could get to the garage. I knew it was pointless to say anything to Elle more than where I was headed. Even though it was after 6pm when the shop usually closed the big door was still up. I could see Dick, Buster and Alan over at the workbench just inside the door. I was surprised to see RoBob, the part time pit crew member, there as well.

Cliffy didn’t waste any time and asked me the status of the money for the cylinder heads I’d returned to Neil. I’d told him, over the phone, that I couldn’t get the cash but that we had a credit with the dealership. I remember thinking what was going on. The short version was that Robob had a contact at the General Motors plant near Buffalo NY that made a lot of the parts for the 427ci Chevy engine and could get us a set of the new aluminum heads that were now becoming available in limited supply. The interest in them wasn’t because they’d give us more horsepower but in the fact that they’d reduce the overall weight of the car by a couple hundred pounds.  However, we would have to go up there to get them right away and it was an eight hour (at best) trip. What amazes me, even today, was that the discussion centered around who it was that would go and not how much they were going to cost, me included.

In earlier posts I introduced you to my friend, “Big B” and his short lived racing career. He was (for the most part) an over the road marine supplies salesman. He covered all of the state including the Buffalo area. Being Spring, sales for marine parts were ‘over the top’ and because of it I hadn’t seen him in a while. The talk about Buffalo had made me think of him and I told the others (who also knew him) there was a slight chance he was still up there. Amazingly, the call to his parents confirmed it and, even better, he was due to call home that night. I had worked with his mother when I worked for the County so had a good rapport with her. I told her it was very important that he call Cliffy at the garage as soon as possible. She, of course, wanted to know what was going on but I told her there wasn’t time for that and hung up on her. Then we waited… and waited… and waited.

There was no time noted in my DayTimer when he finally called but as I remember it, it wasn’t really all that long. However, to us it was an eternity. In the meantime, Robob called his contact to let him know we were definitely interested and were working on getting someone to go and pick the heads up. When we told “Big B” what we needed him for he was more than willing to do it but asked the inevitable question… what was he supposed to do for money. Cliffy was on the phone and had been talking ‘a mile a minute’. Then, he stopped talking completely. Looking at the four of us he said but one word… and in a questioning tone… “Money?”

To be continued…

MAKING PROGRESS... of sorts (Part 172v)

MAKING PROGRESS… of sorts (Part 172v)

There were probably a dozen or more pictures obviously taken at the same time as I recognized the clothes Lynda was wearing at the time. I also  remembered that there were at least six, if not more, in the photo album she’d just let me peruse. I picked a few out of the "rejects", lay them on the table and then she leaned over and took the box and disappeared back into the house. There was nothing I could say… they were her pictures to do with as she pleased. She quickly reappeared but didn’t say anything about the pictures I’d picked out but said it was time for me to tell her more about Elle and my picture taking. She knew the back story of how long I’d known her but wanted to know how I’d talked her into letting me take pictures of her in her panties. I thought I had but she insisted that I hadn’t so… I went back into my memory bank.

Elle and I had been getting more ‘serious’ (back in the 50’s it was called “petting”) and but it didn’t entail much more than light touching of the more ‘private’ areas until the Summer after high school. Now, in all my background talks about Elle I hadn’t mentioned anything about her history of wetting, to Lynda. Because of the nature of some of her ‘accidents’ I’d seen her in her panties both wet and dry and, as we were about to leave for college I wanted her to let me have a picture of her in her panties. She kept putting me off until this one night when I actually got mad at her and almost demanded that she let me take just one picture. She finally relented but under the condition that her face not show. She got her Kodak Brownie camera and proceeded to lay down on the couch but with all her clothes still on. I remember being frustrated with how long it took for her to finally pull her skirt and crinoline up to the point I could really see most of her panties including the crotch. After taking the picture she took the camera and said I couldn’t have the film developed until we got upstate to college. I knew the reason for that because she worked in the local drug store which was a place for people to leave their film off to be developed. She had told me that she and the other girls that worked there would look at the pictures when the processing company dropped them off. So… I had to wait almost a month before she’d let me have the film.

Lynda told me that it was “cute story” and asked if she could see the picture. I wasn’t expecting that but after a slight pause told her I’d dig it out. That led to her asking what I’d done with the pictures she’d already given to me and what I was going to do with the ones still on the table. Well… that put me in another ’tight situation’ because they were with my pictures of Elle which were stored with my ’stash’ of panties up in the attic. When I hesitated it gave her a chance to ask just how many pictures I had of Elle. I didn’t know and told her so but she told me to make a guess. Actually, I did have an approximate number based upon the capacity of the albums I’d placed them in… well over 100. But… and it was BIG but… probably two thirds of them were of her in wet panties or wet clothes. I knew she’d not let up until I gave her an answer so threw out a random number… and that’s when it got really ‘interesting’ for me.

The look on Lynda’s face changed to show the impish smile she’d often use when teasing me. I can picture it as I sit here typing… but I can’t replicate the words she spoke or the intonation of them. In essence, she said she thought it only fair that I show her some pictures of Elle in her panties since I’d seen so many of hers. That rocked me back on my heels a bit as I tried to process her request. I remember the first thought being why would she want to see another girl in her panties and couldn’t come up with one so didn’t respond. It didn’t take long for Lynda to ‘prod’ me by using the “fair’ word again. She still had the grin on her face when she asked what harm was there in doing it. I didn’t have an answer and, at that moment, was ‘in her grasp’. A few more ’needles’ were thrown my way before I said I’d do it. Now the question was when and where.

Even though it was supposedly the longest day of the year, by then it was starting to get dark and time to head for home… even though I knew there wouldn’t be much waiting for me there in the way of ‘love’. I told Lynda it would take me some time to get to my albums and when I did we’d have to pick a time and place to look at the things I’d picked out. She seemed satisfied with that but did issue a warning that if she didn’t hear from me about them in “reasonable amount of time” she’d remind me. I knew she’d keep her word on that one. In saying our good byes I thanked her again for the help with keeping my hopes of racing alive. She, in turn, thanked me for making sure she WAS alive and she was truly sincere about that.

It was about an hour to get home which gave me time to reflect upon the evening. One thing that came to mind was that even though I’d spent around three hours alone with her there had been no touching whatsoever. Even with the intimate nature of the subject we perused there was nothing untoward about it. She’d been a lot more ‘forward’ in some other situations we’d been in and that reminded me other than leaving her door open when changing her clothes there hadn’t been any overt displays where she’d tried to tease me. In retrospect and based upon past experiences I found it rather strange. There was one other thing, in hindsight, that came to mind… I’d had the opportunity to ‘expose’ Elle’s incontinence when Lynda told me about her elevator experience without it being, for lack of a better word, awkward.

No surprise when I arrived home. All the lights were out, including the one on the stove which was usually left on as a night light. That was a message. It was reinforced when I made it halfway up the stairs and saw for the second night in a row that the bedroom door was closed. Back in the kitchen I looked over the day's mail which Elle had left on the counter. At the bottom was a note she’d written telling me that I’d be getting a call the next day from one of the bank’s Trustees about painting a sign. I didn’t need something like that right at that time but the fact it was for a Trustee was going to put even more pressure on me. I had an idea who it was and that didn’t make me happy either even though I could use the money for the race car. I didn’t want to go to sleep with that on my mind so turned on the TV to watch the news. I sat in the recliner to watch and ended up choosing it as my bed for the night. As I nodded off I felt like I was on a merry-go-round and didn’t know how to get off.

It was no surprise that I didn’t sleep very well. Awake at daybreak, I got up and took my shower. The problem for me was in getting to my clothes to wear for work. School was out for the Summer so the kids were allowed to sleep and I knew Elle wasn’t going to be in any hurry to get up either. I decided to ‘face the music’ and went upstairs. I walked in and got nothing from Elle, not even a look. I pulled the things I needed from the dresser drawer and headed back down the stairs deciding on the way that I’d stop on my way to work to eat. The rest of the morning I couldn’t help but dwell on what it was going to take to get a dialog going with Elle. I had no idea where to start.

To be continued…

MAKING PROGRESS... of sorts (Part 172u)

MAKING PROGRESS… of sorts (Part 172u)

It’s one thing to have a ‘bulge’ start when sitting because there is some chance of hiding it. Not so when standing. Within seconds of my hanging the receiver up Lynda appeared in the doorway. Conscious of the bulge, I started to turn away. Lynda called me out on it saying something like “Don’t you like my new outfit?” I really hadn’t noticed but that caused me to at least turn my head in her direction. Looking over my shoulder I could see what looked like a shorts set of pink and light blue. It immediately reminded me of the play suit with the same combination of colors that I’d bought for Elle while in Bermuda. While I was standing still, Lynda walked around me and into the living room and did, for lack of anything better to call it, a curtsy. The shorts were light blue with cuffs and the top, with squares of both pink and blue, wasn’t really a crop top but only came to the waistband of the shorts. My immediate thought was that Elle would look good in it. I figured I had nothing to lose by saying that and hoped she’d take it as a compliment. I still hadn’t moved that much but Lynda started for the kitchen. That was when I saw she had something under her arm. As soon as she made her way into the kitchen I followed hoping that my bulge would subside enough so as not to be as obvious. She got to the doorway to the porch and without stopping but turning her head slightly so that I could hear her she said something about having “dessert”. I could see the table from where I was and there was nothing on it. I was a bit puzzled. She then took the object she had under her arm and placed it on the table where I’d been sitting. That was when I recognized it as a photo album. So much for my deflated bulge!

When I’d first been to her house she’d shared with me some pictures that her husband had taken of her wearing panties. She’d told me that she’d show me more the next time I came back and I’d tried to come up with a way but hadn’t been successful. As hard as it may be for you to believe but when I accepted her invitation that afternoon, pictures were not my main thought… but as I sat down my heart was beating, double time. I know when I wrote about my first visit I gave you the background about her husband and how he had wanted to be a professional photographer. I also told you how he liked to take pictures of Lynda wearing panties and other types of lingerie. He especially liked full brief panties and, from time to time, would buy Lynda a new pair and then take a series of pictures with her wearing them. At the time when she told me about I felt I was a kindred soul to him as I’d done somewhat the same with Elle. The difference with our pictures was obvious. He knew how to stage them to tell a story and with Lynda buying in to the whole thing, had a willing model. One of the biggest problems I had was that Elle was not a willing model and when she did acquiesce, wanted the picture taken as quickly as possible. So… here I was with an album full of what I knew would be fantastic panty pictures to peruse… and a gigantic hard on under the edge of the table.

I was just about to open the album when she dragged her chair up next to me. I turned to smile at her and as she sat down I saw a very quick DP (down pants). That ‘rattled’ me as I’d seen her only minutes before in just her bra and a pair of bikini panties. I almost said something but just didn’t have the nerve. I remember the first two pictures I saw and they were spectacular… and I told her so. I definitely remember telling her about my troubles with getting Elle to let me ‘stage’ pictures and to get more than one. I didn’t tell her I had to “bribe” her for the most part. She volunteered that she thought it was “fun” especially knowing how much enjoyment her husband got out of doing it… and added that her “real enjoyment” came after they were finished… and gave me one of her ‘knowing smiles’.

I was about half way through the album when she laughed out loud. I wasn’t going to let that pass and asked what was so funny. She made a face and told me I “didn’t need to know.” I responded that it wasn’t fair not to tell me. She didn’t change the look on her face so I made a ‘pouty’ one back at her. I remember her leaning back and letting out a deep breath before saying that she’d ‘kill me, for real” if I ever told anyone. And she repeated “for real”. She started to talk and then stopped and asked if she really had to tell me. I didn’t want to force the issue knowing that I didn’t want to risk getting her upset to the point of not letting me continue to see the rest of the album so I backed off. I was looking at her face and saw the start of a smile followed by something like an “OK, you win…” and told me seeing those particular pictures triggered some memories… good and bad.

She and her husband had wanted to see the Broadway show, Hair, when it opened but couldn’t get tickets. When it reopened his mother gave them tickets for their anniversary and they decided to stay in the city for a couple of days. They stayed at The Commodore (where I stayed when I went to the meetings in the city) which was an older hotel. On one of the nights, after staying out late, when they got back they found some of the elevators were out of order. Lynda hesitated at this point and I thought she wasn’t going to go on… but she did. She told me she needed to go to the bathroom but before she went looking for one one of the elevator doors opened. There were some other people who were waiting and they all crowded on. The elevator started then jerked to a stop and someone let out a scream. Lynda then made a ‘face’ when she said that was enough to scare her and she said she knew she’d wet herself… just a bit. But, when the lights went out and there were more screams she said she “lost it” and… that was when she stopped talking. I waited for a few seconds before asking why she laughed when she saw the pictures in the album. She laughed again and said she had waited to tell her husband until they got back to their room… and that was the “good memory”.

She looked at me and sort of shrugged her shoulders. I didn’t know what to say. I knew what I wanted to say but, again, didn’t have the nerve. Then she turned the page in the album and I refocused on the pictures. They were all good and I not only focused on her panties but also but also how Lynda’s husband had framed them. I was almost to the end of the album when she asked if I’d like a few of them. You NEVER ask an alcoholic if he’d like a drink so I sort of gulped when I heard it. I never finished the album because she picked it up and went back inside. I didn’t know what was going on but she returned with a box about the size of the album. She put it down in front of me and took the top off saying that these pictures were her husband’s “rejects”. She motioned for me to pick some up and as I did I recognized some from the album. I asked why they were “rejects” and that brought forth yet another smile and another shrug of her shoulders. I would have liked to have taken all of them and was hesitant to ask if I could take some but I did. I didn’t get a verbal answer but a nod of her head was taken as a “yes”.
       

                          These are the ones I asked for...
To be continued...   

MAKING PROGRESS... of sorts (Part 172t)

MAKING PROGRESS… of sorts (Part 172t)

From the time I heard Lynda’s voice until we were walking out of the showroom it was about 10 minutes. She introduced me to the man I’d seen her talking with… her father-in-law, the owner of the dealership. When I thanked him for his help he gave me one of these ‘what are you talking about looks’. Lynda bailed me out by saying that the used car part of the business was helping with some sponsorship for my race car. His response was quick and to the point. He told us he didn’t believe in spending dealership money on race cars because the people who went to the races were more likely to buy used cars than new cars. I took that as a less than enthusiastic approval. Linda, realizing that this was not going well excused us by saying I had to be going and turned towards the door. I hesitated but then followed. Once outside she said she’d explain later and asked if I knew the way to her house. I’d been there three times so was pretty sure I did. She told me she had to make a stop and would be there quickly.

There were certain what I call ‘markers’ I used as guideposts, one being the tavern that I called Elle from to pick me up back on New Years Eve. Once there I knew my way. When I pulled into her driveway I took a close look at the house and property. The first two times I’d been there it had been dark. The last time was when I pulled in unexpectedly and found her mother was there. I made a quick exit at that time and hadn’t taken a good look at the place. Lynda had explained that it was originally a guest cottage for a large estate built before the depression. With the onset of the depression and then WWII the manor house went into disrepair and the whole place went up for sale for back taxes. A developer bought it and started the first housing development in the township in the late 40’s. The guest house had been lived in and maintained all along so it wasn’t razed when the manor house was. It became a field office during the build-out of the development and then Lynda and her new husband bought it. I remembered the cute entryway and old style windows across the front of the house and tried to remember some of the interior as I waited for Lynda to show up. About the only thing that came to mind was that the ceilings were lower than in a normal house.

Lynda showed up with a few bags that I helped her carry into the house. As soon as I walked in I remembered the layout of the living room and how Lynda had place the furniture. There was a small fireplace but she’d moved the sofa across the front of it so that it faced a wall with two doors. To the right was an entry way to a dinette/kitchen and a door that I assumed was a bathroom. My guess was that it was less than 1000 square feet. In any case, Lynda motioned for me to follow her into the kitchen where she put the bags down and lifted a bottle of red wine from one of them. Her first words were to get confirmation that I didn’t mind left-overs. Once I’d re-established that she went to the refrigerator and pulled out a shallow pan covered with aluminum foil. As she rolled it back I could see it was lasagna, something I liked but seldom had at home. Elle said it was a mess to clean up and preferred spaghetti as our pasta meal. Right after turning the oven on Lynda pulled out two wine glasses and poured the wine. In the form of a ’toast’, I remember her saying something along the lines of how glad she was that the two of us had met. I had to agree.

There was a small screened in porch just outside the kitchen door where we went while the lasagna warmed up. The back yard was small and across the back of it was, for lack of a real description, a thicket of weeds, wild bushes and small trees that my father called ‘volunteers’ because they weren’t planted but just grew from seeds dropped by birds. There was one thing for certain… it was very quiet and private. We didn’t start to really talk until the lasagna was ready to be eaten. The other bag that Lynda had brought home was a loaf of Italian bread. I remember asking about the source of the lasagna and, typical Lynda, got a laugh for an answer. Her mother-in-law hated to cook and had hired a woman to come in each afternoon to prepare supper. She was given a day off during the week and would make something that could be easily heated for the meal on that day. It had been lasagna and, as Lynda put it, she ended up being the beneficiary of what remained.

I’m not going to try and tell you that right from the moment Lynda asked about “left-overs” my mind wasn’t on the possibility of getting to see more pictures of Lynda in panties. However, I had no idea on how to bridge the subject. She was sincerely interested in how the new motor project was going. As frustrated as I was back at the dealership upon being told that I wouldn’t be getting my cash back, her interest served to calm me down as I explained what was happening. I remember her asking if there wasn’t something more she could do as she felt badly for what had happened. There really wasn’t and as I was telling her had one of those hair brained ideas pop into my head. She saw my facial expression and picked up on it right away, prodding me to tell her what was on my mind.

I’ve written about how she would ’tease’ me with panty peeks at the office and at other times. But, there had been absolutely none of that on this occasion. I can’t tell you if I was truly embarrassed to raise the subject or if it was I was afraid that if I instituted the idea she’d be upset with me. She always knew when she had me in that vulnerable position and so it was again. She got up from the little table where we were sitting and bent over as if to pick something up from the deck. The move she made with her hand, to sweep the hem of her skirt up, was about as deliberate as it could be but she made some inane comment about “something biting her”. I know my mouth had to have been hanging open when she turned her head and started to straighten up. The impish smile on her face was proof that her action was by design. Lasting but maybe a couple of seconds, it wasn’t long enough for me to discern if the panties were bikinis or not. Then I remembered that she'd told me she preferred them to the full brief kind and wore them exclusively while her husband was away. Regardless, it was the ‘dessert’ to my lasagna meal.

Something got her attention and she went back inside. I took a look at my watch and saw that it was after 7pm. I pretty much knew Cliffy would be back at the shop and would want to know about the cylinder heads. Upon her return I asked if I could make a call. She took me to the phone located on the table between the two bedrooms and I proceeded to lose track of her as I dialed. Cliffy was waiting… and not too happy with what I had to say. Without the cylinder heads we were stymied. I stood there listening to him rant and just shuffled my feet, looking at the floor. I finally turned towards one of the bedrooms. Lynda was on the other side of the bed in just her bra and panties (and they were bikinis), looking out the window. At that point I lost all concentration on what Cliffy was saying. I had that unobstructed view for over a minute. Cliffy then yelled in my ear and I finally turned away telling him there was noting more I could do and heard him slam the phone down. Looking back at Lynda, she’d disappeared.

To be continued…

MAKING PROGRESS... of sorts (Part 172s)

MAKING PROGRESS… of sorts (Part 172s)

I’ll spare you the discourse between Cliffy and me and say it ended with me suggesting that Cliffy contact Neil (who was the one that sent Cliffy to the parts guy in the first place) and tell him what happened. I left for home after that and, as fully expected, there was a cryptic note for me from Elle. Thursday (it already was by the time I arrived home) was the last day of school and Elle had been invited to a party put on by the teachers at the school where she’d substituted quite a bit since the first of the year. They had “adopted” her and wanted her to be a part of the festivities. I already knew all of that but what the note was telling me was that the older girls would be going to Ginger’s after school let out and Kaye would be picked up by her mother to spend the day with her. What I didn’t understand was why she had to tell me in note form rather than face to face. I got the answer when I got upstairs… the door to our bedroom was shut. She never slept with the door shut even when we had guests. That was a pretty strong indication of just how mad she was.

I slept on the sofa and heard her when she came downstairs for her shower. I didn’t expect to see her when she did and I wasn’t surprised when she went out of her way to avoid me. What did surprise me was that she didn’t come down to make breakfast for the kids or for herself. The last day of school was called “play day” and, basically, that’s all they did besides getting their report cards. When the girls came down, Jean (the oldest) proudly announced that she was making breakfast for the three of them. I observed from a distance and was impressed with how organized she was. I tried to interact with them but it was clear to me that Elle had given them instructions to pretty much ignore me. I waited until Elle came downstairs before heading up to get a change of clothes. By the time I returned she was gone and the kids were out waiting for the bus. It was just Kaye and me as I shoveled down some dry cereal. I made a stab at asking her if Elle had spoken to them about me and  got a direct answer back… “Mommy’s very mad at you…” Elle had brought down some clothes for Kaye in case her mother needed them and right next to them was another cryptic note… “Don’t expect dinner tonight!”

Sometime during the morning I got a call from Neil wanting to hear my version of what had happened with the parts guy at the Chevy dealership the previous day. He never once interrupted me after I started in. When I was finished he said he’d get back to me sometime after lunch. I didn’t have any idea what he would be doing but I felt if anyone was going to make something happen it would be him. In condensing the multiple conversations I had with him, Cliffy and, of all people, Lynda’s father-in-law, the man who owned the Chevy dealership that Neil was affiliated with, the simplest way to put it was we would get our money back. The only caveat was we would have to return the cylinder heads to Neil that day. The doors to the bank were still open when I tried to get in touch with Cliffy. Cliffy’s father answered the phone and explained that he was out on a road call and he didn’t know when he’d be back. I told him why I was calling and how we needed to get the cylinder heads back that afternoon. I didn’t hear a response for a few seconds and asked if he was still on the line. I heard him take a deep breath and then say he’d bring them to me at the bank and would be there by 4pm. I never got a chance to say ’thank you’ before he hung up.

I had Mike, the messenger/custodian, be on the look out for Cliff Sr. and at almost 4pm, on the button, he was there. He was definitely not what you would call a jovial person, almost always challenging what we were doing on the race car. I attributed it to the fact that he’d owned race cars for almost 20 years and even though Cliffy was his son, felt he was the only one to be able to do it the right way. In any case, we transferred the heads to the trunk of my car and I thanked him. Bret had been forewarned that I’d be leaving right after I got my hands on the heads. The one good thing in leaving at that time of day was I’d be ahead of the rush hour traffic leaving the County Center building at 5pm.

I’d let Neil know I’d be to his place before 5pm and he was waiting for me. However, he wanted me to take them to the dealership and to give the heads to the general manager. He explained that the man wanted to check the heads to see just what we’d received and to check on their condition. It made sense to me so off I went. It only took a few minutes to get there. There was nothing special about the place. It was a fairly typical design for car dealerships built after WWII. I was directed to the general manager who greeted me with a smile and a comment about me being another one of those “racing guys”. We took the heads into his office and it only took him a few seconds to see they weren’t a matching set. He told me that even though they were both new, one was from the first of the 427ci Chevy engines and had probably been on a shelf at the other dealership since that time (about 3 years). Of course my concern was the money… mine, that had been used to pay for them. When I raised the question he told me we’d have a credit for the amount. Definitely not what I wanted to hear. I, being somewhat naive, asked about the $25 I’d given the parts guy. All I got back was a quick laugh and the suggestion that the next time I saw him to ask for it back. Then he said he believed the guy had been fired that afternoon. He told me he thought the guy was being ‘watched’ for selling parts off the shelf and pocketing the money while ‘fudging’ the inventory. He went on that the owner of that dealership and Lynda’s father-in-law had worked at a big dealership in the city and were still close friends.

So, here I was a little before 6pm with no cylinder heads, no money and no dinner to look forward to. I walked out onto the showroom floor to take a look around. There  really wasn’t much difference in the 1969 cars from the 1968 models but it was still fun to look at new cars when they were all shiny and bright. One of the impossible dreams that most ‘motor heads’ had was to own a Corvette. The only one I’d ever driven was Lynda’s and there was a burgundy Stingray on the showroom floor. I don’t think my feet had stopped moving towards it before there was a salesman at my side. He told me to slide on in to “see if it fit”. I tried to protest but he said it didn’t cost anything to dream. Of course I did. As I looked at the dashboard I was sure it was different from the one in Lynda’s so asked. Mistake! I’d opened the door for a full blown sales pitch.

He started with the power of the new small block 350ci engine that was in it. Right up my alley. He went over how they’d beefed up the ‘bottom end’ with bigger main bearing caps and larger bolts. I probably should’ve known but didn’t. He was just starting in on the beefed up frame for the car when I heard a somewhat familiar voice and looked over his shoulder and saw Lynda talking with an older man. I think I might’ve breathed a sigh of relief before calling out to her. Seeing me, she excused herself from the man and came over to the ‘vette’ asking if I was serious and pointing to the car. I laughed and climbed out. After explaining why I was there she asked if I was headed home to dinner as it was now after 6pm. I told her that I wasn’t and the next words out of her mouth were to ask if I ate leftovers.

To be continued…

MAKING PROGRESS... of sorts (Part 172r)

MAKING PROGRESS… of sorts (Part 172r)

Going onto the work week I was somewhat prepared for it to be a little ‘frantic’ as the branch committee was meeting right before the full Board meeting. Having been denied access to the planning for the first branch and having had to ‘live’ with the results of the less than knowledgeable (as far as daily bank operations were concerned) decisions made by the Board members who made up the committee, Hobie made an effort to have me become an ex-officio, non-voting, member. However, my least favorite Board member, “Polack Joe” had managed to get appointed to the branch committee and at the last meeting had pretty much muted my efforts to comment on the preliminary plans. It wasn’t that important as there were major problems with the zoning requirements which was delaying any real immediate action. Even knowing that it was still an uncomfortable situation to be in. I’d managed to get on the ‘good side’ of Morris, the consultant the bank was using to guide them in all aspects of the new branch from choosing the location, architect and on to the the gifts used at the opening, and he would let me know what was going to happen in the meetings before hand. That way I could at least give him some of my concerns and hope he’d incorporate them into his presentation. It wasn’t the way it should be done but that’s the way it was.

After receiving his call I felt better. The ingress and egress problem with the zoning board had been put to rest. Now the focus could/would be on designing the branch building within the confines of the remaining available space. That was where I wanted to be involved. The question for me was how much ‘static’ would I get from “Polack Joe”. I went into the meeting a little apprehensive but before it really got started one of the Trustees put forth a concern that he claimed a number of other committee members had expressed to him… Based upon the less than expected acceptance for the first branch he wanted to propose the idea of designing the building in such a way that if it didn’t make it as a bank branch that it could be marketed and sold for some other purpose. I swear that my mouth dropped open when I heard that. I couldn’t believe they if they didn’t have the confidence in moving ahead then why do it. My eyes were on Morris to see his reaction… but there wasn’t one. A quick look at Hobie told me that he was blindsided as well.  Morris didn’t immediately respond but with measured words said he’d do whatever it was that they wanted. He told them he had some ‘rough’ sketches of branches with the ‘footprint’ that we’d be limited to. However, the Trustee who brought up the subject said he didn’t want to waste time on them. I already knew the target for the opening wasn’t until the following year so time wasn’t really a factor. I think I might’ve sat there and scratched my head as the chairman of the committee motioned the meeting to be over.

With Hobie there I wasn’t needed for the full Trustee meeting so, with the beginning of the ‘busy period’ just a week away decided to make sure we were ready for the onslaught of customers by meeting with Bret, Trish and Lorie. I’d noticed some new clothes on Lorie a few weeks ago. Her normal choice was wool or polyester skirts and as we gathered in the work area I saw her in a khaki cotton skirt. As she jumped up on one of the work tables I was standing behind it and as she did I could see a VPL for at least the leg elastics. Not that I had many chances to ever see much of anything from her but it was refreshing. It reminded me that I’d seen panties on the clothes line at her home and kind of kicked myself for not taking that route home more often.

We were going over some of the supplies we needed when Joanie let me know I had a phone call. I asked who it was and she sort of shrugged her shoulders saying it was a man she thought told her his name was Cliff. There were three Cliff’s that I knew so decided to take the call. It was Cliffy telling me that he thought he’d found a set of matching cylinder heads and asking if I could go pick them up. My first question was where they were located. He told me and I knew it was about an hour away. The second question was about the money for them. There was a ‘pregnant pause’ before he asked if I could pay for them and he’d give me the cash when I delivered them to the garage. The third question was why the rush. He told me he'd convinced the parts guy at the Chevy dealership where they were that he’d “be taken care of”. The guy told him to be there that night or to forget about it. Have you ever had a debate with yourself? As I remember it mine took about 30 seconds or so. It was one of those where no matter what I did someone was going to be mad at me.  The only way I could pull it off was to get Lorie to have one of the tellers open her cash box to get me the money I needed. I signed the withdrawal slip, got the cash and took off. I did call Elle before leaving and got the ‘silent treatment’… which I knew was only the beginning of my ‘punishment’.

The parts guy was someone I wouldn’t have wanted to run into in a dark alley. Gruff and burly, the first thing he wanted was his piece of the action… $25. (Remember, it was 1969) Each head was wrapped in a padded piece of brown paper. Cliffy told me to make sure the numbers matched on each head and when I went to open the paper up the guy wouldn’t let me. I started to protest and he immediately handed me the money back. Before I could say anything he told me he was doing us a favor because they’d  already been sold and he was doing us a favor by giving them to us. I didn’t know what to do. It was another lose/lose situation. Another debate with myself with taking the heads without checking the numbers winning out.

I arrived at the garage around 9pm and found Dick and Alan there waiting for me. Cliffy had been hired to drive a local doctor to some sort of medical conference just North of the city and wasn’t back yet. We got the heads out of the trunk of my car and set them on the bench. I knew nothing about cylinder heads other than their function on the motor. I did know we’d have to do some prep work on them before installing them so, was prepared to watch what they were going to do. Stripping the paper off, Dick checked to see that there were no nicks in the surface. It was while he was doing it he noticed something. Laying the two heads side by side he could see there was a slight difference in the exhaust ports. That’s when he checked the numbers. They were not the same!

Now I knew I was in trouble, big time, with Cliffy as well as Elle… and was out the money for the heads on top of it. I told the guys what had happened and why I accepted the heads. I didn’t care what they thought about it because hindsight is always 20/20. We didn’t know when Cliffy would be back but I decided I’d wait and would take the ‘heat’ I knew would come… and it came… around 11pm.

To be continued…

MAKING RROGRESS... of sorts (Part 172q)

MAKING PROGRESS… of sorts (Part 172q)

When Elle and Martha left for the courts I was left to watch our two older girls who’d declined to go with them. Kaye our youngest and Martha’s daughter, Olivia who she called “Ollie”, went with their mothers. Before leaving Elle had suggested (told) me to get the hibachi out and we’d eat on the patio when she returned. I wasn’t thrilled with the idea but didn’t have much choice. Elle said they wouldn’t be gone more than a half hour so, knowing how long it took to get the charcoal to the proper cooking temperature, I immediately got it started. It’d been my intention to do more with the storm windows/screens but gave that idea up as a lost cause. Elle had been about right on how long they’d be gone and the coals in the hibachi were just about right when the station wagon pulled up to the garage. As soon as she got out of the car she announced that Martha and Ollie would be joining us in our impromptu cook out. Hearing that as I saw Martha appear from the other side of the station wagon changed my mood about having to do the hibachi thing. I’d hoped for seeing her in her tennis outfit later on during the Summer but here she was approaching me while wearing it.

Since it was the first time we’d used the picnic table that Spring it was quite dirty. Elle set about cleaning it up and Martha joined right in. Even though the hibachi didn’t need monitoring at that moment I stayed right there to observe what I hoped would soon happen. As Martha wiped the table top down the hem of her skirt never quite made it high enough to get even a hint of what she was wearing underneath it… but I still had hope. We had to move the table from the wall and I did help in doing that. There was one bench that had been stored under the table and was right up against the siding. Elle was directing me as to just how she wanted the table placed and as I put it down looked over and saw Martha trying to grab the the bench to bring it over to the table. As she bent over to grab it I got just what I’d hoped for… the hem of the dress rode up on her backside so that there was at least three inches of her panties showing. It turned out to be heavier than she’d thought so she was struggling to get a good grasp of it, all the while prolonging the fantastic view I had. Luckily, Elle had gone into the kitchen to get the hot dogs and hamburgers so didn’t see me ogling Martha’s rear end.

I don’t know how long I got an unobstructed look… maybe ten to fifteen or so seconds, but it seemed like an eternity. It was long enough for my brain to start functioning and to realize that she was wearing but one pair of panties. They definitely weren’t tennis panties with lace around the leg openings. The size of the crotch was modest, nowhere near as large as the VanRaalte panties were and it left me wondering who made them. The next conscious thing I knew Elle was telling me to help Martha with the bench. When I made the move towards her was when I realized I had an almost full hard-on. I’m not sure if Martha saw it or not but the perspiration on my brow wasn’t from the weather or exertion… it was from embarrassment.

Elle then called Martha inside to help her get all the kids stuff together while I finished up the first batch of hot dogs. The hamburgers were for the adults and when I squatted down to pull them off the grill I asked for a plate to put them on. Martha, who was then seated at the end of one of the benches, turned towards me. As she did she sort of spun her body with her left leg still under the table and her right one now pointed out towards me. This was one of those split second viewings but what a view! For that split second her legs were at a 90 degree angle and the only thing missing that could’ve made the view a ’10’ was there was no ‘camel toe’. From then on there were just a few more ‘peeks’ but nothing as graphic as what I’d already seen. If there was one thing that episode accomplished it was to make me anticipate the upcoming Summer for a different reason.

The sailing club had been opened, unofficially, on the weekends starting with Memorial Day weekend. Unofficially, because the water and lights had not yet been turned on in the clubhouse. Rex, the unpaid property manager, had been injured at his work and no one had stepped up to fill the position. Rex lived locally and close to the club so had been a perfect one to handle all the details and problems as they arose. But, his trusted assistant was his brother, Jack, who lived and worked in the city except for the months of July and August. Rex would really work hard to get volunteers to get the clubhouse ready each year and other than the front doors being opened nothing had been done. So, when I got a call from Jack after getting home from church asking for help I couldn’t really say “no”. He’d called some others and there were about seven or eight of us to tackle the obvious things like removing the storm windows and getting the Sunfish racks out of the building. Some of the members (so we thought) had already left their Sunfish boats on the beach. That was OK as long as we had no storms with high tides so we set about to put some of the racks together. In past years those of us who assembled the racks were granted first choice as to which ones we chose and we decided it would be the same this year. I picked two on the bottom row of one which would make it easier for Jean and Anne to get to their boats and to get them up and off the sand. We were just finishing up when two women that non of us recognized showed up. They didn’t acknowledge the few of us that were left and proceeded to go over to the two boats lying there in the sand. We were picking up the shovels and the 2x4’s for the racks that hadn’t yet been re-assembled and, initially, didn’t pay much attention… until we saw them pick up a boat and slide it onto one of the racks that one of the guys had marked for his boat. I think it was because I was pretty tired by then because I called them out on it. They stood their ground claiming they had their boats there first and should get first choice. The next thing we knew we were all screaming at the two women and they were screaming back. Jack, smartly, finally put an end to it when he asked if they were members of the club… and this is the part that really got me. They told him they were “going to join”. That incensed one of the other guys who motioned for me to grab one end of one of their boats while he grabbed the other and we dragged it off the rack and down about 20 feet onto the beach. It was obvious that they still didn’t get the whole picture as they told us they were going to call the police. I’m actually laughing as I write this as Jack shot back at them to go right ahead… and if the police showed up he’d have them arrested for trespassing. That was what finally ended the whole episode as they got in their car and drove off.

To put an end to this thread… when they finally did come around to join they were turned down. Their only reason for joining was to have a place for their boats. They didn’t want to compete in races or to have kids in the sailing program. What was kind of funny was that Jack’s wife was on the membership committee and she’d been warned about them. It was part of a trend that I’d been observing for a few years where the ‘city people’ would arrive and expect the ‘local yokels’ to acquiesce to their wishes.

To be continued…

MAKING PROGRESS... of sorts (Part 172p)

MAKING PROGRESS… of sorts (Part 172p)

Elle was asleep when I got home so had to wait until morning to find out how the tennis went with the neighbor. The two things I wrote in my Day Timer were that she (Elle) told me she was “rusty” from not having played since the previous Summer and that Martha was good, but not as good as she thought she was. That was an interesting comment from Elle. Normally, she would ‘play up’ her opponent. To me it meant that they would play again and I, for sure, wanted to witness it. However, with all the work to be done getting the motor together, along with chores around the house and yard, I was afraid it would be a while.

By Saturday, the ‘bottom’ of the motor was together but we still hadn’t located a set of new, matching, cylinder heads. That was critical because Cliffy had been told that in their stock form they wouldn’t be all that effective and would need to be worked on to improve their performance. Sending them out to a machine shop would take time (and more money) but until we had them and could have them worked on there wasn’t much else we could do so I headed home. I was able to get caught up on the Spring yard work and started removing the storm windows. While doing that I heard a female voice but couldn’t see anybody. Walking around to the back of the house I saw Martha standing in the opening of the hedge. I waved her on through and she, hesitatingly, took a few steps into the yard. I told her that she was welcome to come over at anytime. She seemed a bit nervous so I kind of forced the issue. It was a problem with one of the garage doors in that she couldn’t get it to lock. I didn’t understand why it had suddenly become a problem but, even behind that was why they bothered to lock it anyway. I’d never locked ours and had had no problems. She could see the puzzled look on my face and went ahead and explained that her in-laws had just shipped some things of value from the city but didn’t want them put into the house until they arrived. That sort of answered the question of why so I followed her back through the opening and headed for the garage. Of course my eyes went right to the clothes line but found it empty. I’d seen the two panties there the last time I was in the yard and one pair was definitely for a larger woman than either she or her sister-in-law. I told her I thought her mother-in-law was at the house but she explained that Martha had gone back to Connecticut with her kids to finish out the school year and that she’d gone with her. As I surveyed the door she went on that “the whole clan” would be there for the weekend.

As I looked at the door I recognized it as being the same kind as on my garage. The two houses had been built around the same time and even though the exteriors were different, the interiors were very much the same so thought maybe the builder had been the same for both. After lifting the door I could see the problem with why it wouldn’t lock. At some time in the past the sill and garage floor at the opening had been cracked. I immediately remembered the large, heavy machines that had been in there from back when Celia lived there and surmised that the damage took place either when they were installed or removed. With the uneven surface the door couldn’t go all the way down and the locking bars wouldn’t engage. After fooling with it for a few minutes I figured out how to make them work but it would take some time. I had to make a quick decision… be a good neighbor at the expense of getting the things done at my house or just saying I couldn’t do it.

I’ll admit I have a problem with saying “No…” when asked by people to do things and that old ‘bugaboo’ came up again. I told her I’d get the door secured by supper time. The thing was I didn’t know how long it would take since the repair was labor intensive. It was mid afternoon or so when I finished up removing the storm windows from my house and gave up on the idea of installing the screens. Being the start of the Spring season, the days would be a mite cool in the morning and then warming up rapidly in the afternoon. It meant shedding clothes or even changing them because of the added warmth of the afternoons. When I popped though the opening in the hedge I saw Martha in a chaise on the new patio with her daughter in her lap and reading to her. I went over to explain what I’d be doing  and could see that she’d changed into shorts. Certain positions in a chaise can be very rewarding to a panty peeker like me and I definitely remember thinking that if the daughter got up or moved I’d get my ‘reward’ for being the good neighbor. But, I pretty much ‘shot myself in the foot’ when she asked if I needed any help… and turned her down. Her parting words as I turned towards the garage, “Call if you need me…” I can remember shaking my head as I approached the garage calling myself a “dummy”.

As I said, the job was labor intensive. I had to enlarge the latch holes on each side of the door and the only tool I had to do that with was a file. Even though I was out of the sun, just inside the garage, it didn’t take long for me to work up a sweat. I got one side done but had to give my hands a rest and also had to get something to drink. When Martha saw me headed in her direction she lifted her daughter off her lap and sat up with her legs straddling the lower part of the chaise. I can’t really call it nirvana… but it came pretty close. There was no way not to see the slivers of white split by the blue cloth in the crotch of her shorts. Even though I’d had a thought of a panty peek earlier I really wasn’t expecting it at this time. I had that view for about ten steps as I approached her. She asked me something and I really don’t know if I heard her or not. I finally asked if she could get me some water and saw my perfect view close up as she slipped one leg over the chaise and stood up. For a brief second thought I might get a VPL but the shorts were loose fitting and I didn’t get to see anything.

When she returned we we walked to the garage and I showed her what I was doing. My guess is that it had taken me over a half hour to open the one latch hole up to where it would accept the latching bar. I really wasn’t looking forward to doing the other side as my hands still ached. I started back with the filing while she stood and watched. It was only a minute or two later that I heard a familiar voice… Elle, who wanted to see what I’d been doing. Within seconds they were in full conversation with each other and I was out of it altogether. They sort of wandered off towards the house while I continued with the task. It took longer to do this one than the other but I finally got it to lock. I went looking for Martha to tell her but didn’t see any sign of her or her daughter. I went to the kitchen screen door and called out to her. Within seconds she appeared… wearing a tennis dress. Without asking, she told me that she and Elle were going up to the school to hit a few tennis balls when I finished up. I know I was staring at her for a few seconds before saying that the door was now successfully locked. She wanted to go see it and I followed her to the side door of the garage watching the hem of her dress bouncing ever so close to exposing her panties. I didn’t get to see the ‘prize’ but it was enough to let me know I’d have other opportunities during the Summer.

To be continued…