INTERESTING TIMES... A change of pace (Part 130e)
I was
looking forward to a relatively easy week as I arrived at work Monday
morning. Luckily, I was early. The banking world has always been highly
regulated. We were subject to three audits each year... Federal, state
and then one done by an independent accounting firm. Each organization
would arrive with a team of people ranging in size from eight to a
dozen. Their arrival was always a surprise and, as a result, a bit
disruptive especially in my realm of responsibilities. They had to count
each teller’s cash before allowing them to wait on customers. They were
like a swarm of flies attracted to drops of honey. It was up to Bret
and I to appease the customers while they did their job. Once that was
done they would congregate, as a group, around the head examiner who, by
the way, was a female, and wait for Bert, the bank president, to assign them a
place to work. It was almost always the Board room as it was the only
place that was large enough to hold that many people as well as all
their files and equipment. Once settled the head examiner would assign
different members of his crew to meet with each of the department heads to
review any past citations. Most of them were minor and, in my
area, had been in the form of suggestions. I don’t remember anything
being noted as critical. Thankfully, by lunch time they had vacated my
area.
It was early in the afternoon when I got a call from Bert,
the president, to come to his office. Never a good thing, I couldn’t
imagine what it was for. Walking in I saw Betts, the lady who did the
accounting, sitting there and looking somewhat distressed. Also present
was the head examiner. I didn’t hear what Bert said as he dismissed
Betts from the room. He motioned for me to sit and then asked me if we
(the bank) had any applications from people with accounting experience. I
didn’t really know and told him so. Then he explained the situation.
During
one of the three most recent examinations a suggestion had been put
forth that the accounting department needed ”strengthening“. No one in
the department had any formal accounting training and there were no
clear lines of authority. Betts was the accepted ”manager” but without a
title. If something happened to her or one of her two account clerks
there was the potential of a big problem. Bert seemed to be resisting
the examiners suggestion of hiring a true accountant and he was looking
for an alternative. He then asked the examiner if we could peruse our
applications and if we found someone to bolster the department would it
be acceptable. My “take” on her reaction was that she didn’t really like
the idea but agreed provided that she got toreview the application before the audit was over.
I was excused and knew what my immediate task was... look
for an additional account clerk in the application file. I stopped at
Trish’s desk to ask her to get me the application folder. Naturally
nosy, she asked what I was looking for. Since she was the one who
usually accepted applications I told her, hoping to save time. I
remember her looking up at me and stating “I’ve got one!” She didn’t even
get up but reached behind her and handed me an application. I scanned
it quickly and saw that the person was a college graduate and had worked
for the administration doing bookkeeping while a student. Trish saw my
reaction and then, with a smile on her face, told me that I’d missed her
by about ten minutes. I immediately took the application upstairs to
the examiner for her review. As I walked into the board room I saw her bending
at the waist over a box on the floor. The woman was in her 40’s but
fairly trim. The VPL wasn’t much but at least it was something. It
wasn’t long after that before I got the OK to proceed.
I, almost
unbelievably, was able to reach her that afternoon. She agreed to come back and promised to be there before 5pm. Janice was the woman’s name.
Nothing to look at and a little overweight, she did present herself well.
She was married to a Lieutenant in the Air Force who had just been
assigned to the local air base just down the road. She wasn’t looking
for a long time permanent position because her husband’s assignment
wasn’t expected to be an extended one. However, she wasn’t happy with
the salary that I’d proposed citing her college degree. I told her that
I’d have to take it up with “the powers that be” and would call her the
next day. Fortunately, I was able to catch Bert as he was leaving that
night and showed him the application. He liked what he saw and when told
about her concerns with the salary he said he should be able to work something out.
He told me to have the salaries of all three ladies presently in the
department on his desk in the morning. It was around 10am when I got a
call from Bert and he gave me a dollar number to offer the lady. From my
conversation with her I wasn’t sure she’d accept it but I called and
gave it to her. To my great surprise she responded with a “When can I
start?” answer.
Bert had let me know that he’d called Betts and
the other two women in to his office and explained that the examiners
wanted to see some changes in the accounting area in the way of
personnel but making it clear that the bank was pleased with their
performance. He told them that if the bank didn’t respond to the
examiner’s suggestions they would mandate what would have to take place.
He told them about Janice and that there would be a positive adjustment
in their salaries effective when she started.
Over the two days
I’d spent more time on the second floor than I usually did in a week. J J
was going “nuts” wanting to know what was going on. He prided himself
as always being “in the know” and I was having fun avoiding him. Once
the woman accepted the position I let him know about her. That just set
him off on a tangent. He’d been complaining about needing another clerk
in his department for a while and hadn’t been able to convince Bert that
it was necessary. I, personally, felt that he was “empire building“ so
showed no sympathy I was still miffed that right after his hire he’d
been able to persuade Edgar, the president that had hired him, to let
him have a secretary since Hobie, Bret and I had to share one.
Speaking
of J J's secretary, Lynne, there had been some "talk" about how much
time she spent in his office with the door closed. J J's excuse was that
the area right outside his office was the waiting area for the public and
when he was dictating letters to mortgage customers he was dealing with
personal information. I'd let it slide as I had some "issues" of my own
that could prove to be somewhat embarrassing but it was in the back of
my mind.
To be continued...
Monday, March 30, 2015
Friday, March 27, 2015
INTERESTING TIMES... A change of pace (Part 130d)
INTERESTING TIMES... A change of pace (Part 130d)
We must’ve stayed in the corner for 15 minutes. I saw Bret looking over at us a few times with a puzzled look on his face. I, like just about everybody in our town, knew of ”Polak Joe“ but I’d never met him in person. What I knew about him was from what I’d picked up in idle conversations.
He’d graduated from the same high school as Elle about seven or eight years before she did. The son of a farmer, he’d achieved local fame for his athletic ability. That ability opened the doors for a college education. Upon his return home he eschewed the farm life, met and married a girl from a ”monied“ family and worked in her father’s business. Along the way I’d learned that he was the one that started the town’s first housing development. I had to laugh when I’d first heard it because that was where Elle and I, when dating, had gone ”parking“. It was also where Bob and Phyl as well as Johnnie and Sandy lived.
J J was clearly concerned about the prospect of him becoming a member of the Board. J J had become active in his church right after he’d moved to the area. He said he found dissension among the member of the governing body of the parish and the fingers seemed to point to ”Polak Joe“. Although he wasn’t a member of any of the active committees he had relatives who were very much involved. J J’s ”take“ on him was that he was a somewhat of a control freak but not wanting to be public about it. Both J J and I had, at times, discussed the seeming lack of common sense displayed by our Board. J J’s position was that if what he’d seen and heard about ”Polak Joe“ was true and he was added to the Board it would not be good. All I could do was to stand and listen to him, hoping that it wasn’t true.
After J J returned upstairs I collected the proof sheets that Liz had shown me concerning Jerene’s poor performance. At my desk, when confronted with the evidence, there wasn’t much she could say. I remember getting a dose of batted eyelashes and the half smile... and a promise to do better. What concerned me was that she’d had one of the best records when it came time to proving up at the end of the day. But, my mind wasn’t so much on her as it was on what was happening in the Board meeting. As she started walking away she turned and, with a slight indication of a finger pointed to her hip, mouthed ”They’re nylon“.
I stayed late with the intention to find out if J J was right about the two men I’d seen earlier in the lobby. When Hobie returned to his desk I’d hoped that he would volunteer information without me having to ask... but he didn’t. When I pressed him for anything new he told me that there was to be an announcement in the morning and then he left. It was just one more thing to complicate my life.
Hobie had been right. When I walked in the next morning there was already a gathering of employees in the lobby. Bert, the president, was standing on the stairs with Hobie a step below him. At about 8:55am Bert started in. The Board had, indeed, added two new members. The first named was unknown to me, an attorney from the western part of the county. The second was ”Polak Joe“ as J J had thought. The business he was with was located just down Main Street. I was standing next to Bret when the announcement was made and asked him if he’d ever seen the man in the bank. He shook his head in a negative way and, as soon as the meeting broke up, went right to the signature cards. I followed and watched as he flipped through them and couldn’t find his name. That just didn’t make any sense to me at all. Why would they choose someone who didn't do business with the bank? Walking back to our desks Bret offered up that he’d heard about the man from his father and it wasn’t all that complimentary.
I called Pete up Friday evening and asked if he wanted to go check the racecar over with me. Although he was not mechanically inclined he was willing to do the ”dirty jobs“. I really didn’t know that much about his background and had met him through my brother. He worked for his father in the insurance business and that’s what I’d been told ”Polak Joe“ was involved in. I ran his name by Pete and the look on his face when he heard it told me a lot.
The word I remember from that conversation was ”unscrupulous“. I also remember him saying that he hoped that I didn’t get my insurance from him. Hearing that I asked him to explain. It was clear that Pete didn’t like him not only on a personal level but also from a business standpoint. He wouldn’t go into the details it was clear that his feelings ran deep.
Saturday turned out to be a rainy day. I’d hoped to get ”B“ back on the track and to give him some specific things to do to get him comfortable. But it wasn’t happening. There was a "group" meeting at Bob and Phyl’s house that night to finalize Bob’s campaign for the school board. As I’d written in earlier posts Nanci was now working for the school district and we’d been relying on her for ”inside“ information as it might apply to the election. She and Jon, (the milkman) who was on the board, had been able to identify some of the influential people who had some ties to the incumbent that Bob was running against. As we strategized that night and their names were tossed about I thought I heard one that was now becoming somewhat familiar. It wasn’t ”Polak Joe“ but his full given name. As soon as I heard it I polled them all about what they knew of him. There wasn’t anything specific but just that he had ties to a lot of people in the community and some were very influential. That information on top of what J J had told me was of great concern to me as far as work was concerned. But, at the moment, we were trying to get Bob on the school board.
By the time we all headed home we had a pretty solid plan ready to implement. The kick off would be the first weekend in June. With the election scheduled for the second Wednesday that would give us twelve days. Jon had volunteered to get permission to have a ”Meet the candidates night“ at the school the Monday night before the election. Bob was going to set up a table in front of the post office on both Fridays and Saturdays the two weeks prior to the vote to shake hands with the townspeople. My sign would go up on the corner as cars would turn off the main road and into the village. Flyers would be distributed at the local strip mall on the same Fridays and Saturdays that Bob would be at the post office. I, for one, had a good feeling. The only negative was that, for the first time since I’d been a part of the ”group“, and had been at a meeting/party I’d not seen an upskirt or DP.
To be continued...
We must’ve stayed in the corner for 15 minutes. I saw Bret looking over at us a few times with a puzzled look on his face. I, like just about everybody in our town, knew of ”Polak Joe“ but I’d never met him in person. What I knew about him was from what I’d picked up in idle conversations.
He’d graduated from the same high school as Elle about seven or eight years before she did. The son of a farmer, he’d achieved local fame for his athletic ability. That ability opened the doors for a college education. Upon his return home he eschewed the farm life, met and married a girl from a ”monied“ family and worked in her father’s business. Along the way I’d learned that he was the one that started the town’s first housing development. I had to laugh when I’d first heard it because that was where Elle and I, when dating, had gone ”parking“. It was also where Bob and Phyl as well as Johnnie and Sandy lived.
J J was clearly concerned about the prospect of him becoming a member of the Board. J J had become active in his church right after he’d moved to the area. He said he found dissension among the member of the governing body of the parish and the fingers seemed to point to ”Polak Joe“. Although he wasn’t a member of any of the active committees he had relatives who were very much involved. J J’s ”take“ on him was that he was a somewhat of a control freak but not wanting to be public about it. Both J J and I had, at times, discussed the seeming lack of common sense displayed by our Board. J J’s position was that if what he’d seen and heard about ”Polak Joe“ was true and he was added to the Board it would not be good. All I could do was to stand and listen to him, hoping that it wasn’t true.
After J J returned upstairs I collected the proof sheets that Liz had shown me concerning Jerene’s poor performance. At my desk, when confronted with the evidence, there wasn’t much she could say. I remember getting a dose of batted eyelashes and the half smile... and a promise to do better. What concerned me was that she’d had one of the best records when it came time to proving up at the end of the day. But, my mind wasn’t so much on her as it was on what was happening in the Board meeting. As she started walking away she turned and, with a slight indication of a finger pointed to her hip, mouthed ”They’re nylon“.
I stayed late with the intention to find out if J J was right about the two men I’d seen earlier in the lobby. When Hobie returned to his desk I’d hoped that he would volunteer information without me having to ask... but he didn’t. When I pressed him for anything new he told me that there was to be an announcement in the morning and then he left. It was just one more thing to complicate my life.
Hobie had been right. When I walked in the next morning there was already a gathering of employees in the lobby. Bert, the president, was standing on the stairs with Hobie a step below him. At about 8:55am Bert started in. The Board had, indeed, added two new members. The first named was unknown to me, an attorney from the western part of the county. The second was ”Polak Joe“ as J J had thought. The business he was with was located just down Main Street. I was standing next to Bret when the announcement was made and asked him if he’d ever seen the man in the bank. He shook his head in a negative way and, as soon as the meeting broke up, went right to the signature cards. I followed and watched as he flipped through them and couldn’t find his name. That just didn’t make any sense to me at all. Why would they choose someone who didn't do business with the bank? Walking back to our desks Bret offered up that he’d heard about the man from his father and it wasn’t all that complimentary.
I called Pete up Friday evening and asked if he wanted to go check the racecar over with me. Although he was not mechanically inclined he was willing to do the ”dirty jobs“. I really didn’t know that much about his background and had met him through my brother. He worked for his father in the insurance business and that’s what I’d been told ”Polak Joe“ was involved in. I ran his name by Pete and the look on his face when he heard it told me a lot.
The word I remember from that conversation was ”unscrupulous“. I also remember him saying that he hoped that I didn’t get my insurance from him. Hearing that I asked him to explain. It was clear that Pete didn’t like him not only on a personal level but also from a business standpoint. He wouldn’t go into the details it was clear that his feelings ran deep.
Saturday turned out to be a rainy day. I’d hoped to get ”B“ back on the track and to give him some specific things to do to get him comfortable. But it wasn’t happening. There was a "group" meeting at Bob and Phyl’s house that night to finalize Bob’s campaign for the school board. As I’d written in earlier posts Nanci was now working for the school district and we’d been relying on her for ”inside“ information as it might apply to the election. She and Jon, (the milkman) who was on the board, had been able to identify some of the influential people who had some ties to the incumbent that Bob was running against. As we strategized that night and their names were tossed about I thought I heard one that was now becoming somewhat familiar. It wasn’t ”Polak Joe“ but his full given name. As soon as I heard it I polled them all about what they knew of him. There wasn’t anything specific but just that he had ties to a lot of people in the community and some were very influential. That information on top of what J J had told me was of great concern to me as far as work was concerned. But, at the moment, we were trying to get Bob on the school board.
By the time we all headed home we had a pretty solid plan ready to implement. The kick off would be the first weekend in June. With the election scheduled for the second Wednesday that would give us twelve days. Jon had volunteered to get permission to have a ”Meet the candidates night“ at the school the Monday night before the election. Bob was going to set up a table in front of the post office on both Fridays and Saturdays the two weeks prior to the vote to shake hands with the townspeople. My sign would go up on the corner as cars would turn off the main road and into the village. Flyers would be distributed at the local strip mall on the same Fridays and Saturdays that Bob would be at the post office. I, for one, had a good feeling. The only negative was that, for the first time since I’d been a part of the ”group“, and had been at a meeting/party I’d not seen an upskirt or DP.
To be continued...
Wednesday, March 25, 2015
INTERESTING TIMES... A change of pace (Part 130c)
INTERESTING TIMES... A change of pace... (Part 130c)
Sunday turned out to be a “lost” day. I knew all the things I should’ve done on Saturday (mow the lawn, take the garbage to the landfill, change the oil in the station wagon) were waiting for me after church. However, the quest for a new minister was winding down and the parishioners were clamoring for the Vestry to make a decision. As I’d written earlier, the diocese had sent us a clear message as to who they wanted us to chose and he was there, again, to preach that Sunday. So, a special meeting was called to address the situation for a final time. Being the newest (and youngest) member I had very little say in the matter so kept my mouth shut even though I didn’t have a good feeling about the man... or his wife. By the time the meeting was over it was almost 1pm. Elle had taken the kids home so I had to find a ride. Another member offered me a ride but he needed to stop at his house first. By that time I was resigned to playing “catch-up” for the rest of the day and accepted his offer.
He had a son in Jean’s class but I’d never interacted much with him or his wife and I don’t remember why. He was a school teacher in another district and his wife was a stay at home mom. He’d bought an old farmhouse and was in the process of renovating it. I remember the driveway going completely around the house and as we circled it I saw one of my favorite things... a washline with clothes waving in the wind. He stopped in back and left the motor running while he went inside. I scanned the line for... what else, panties, and was somewhat rewarded. The line ran from the back of the house to a fairly large shed in the back yard. It ran at a bit of an angle so I only had a partial view but counted at least six pair with most being pastel.
After getting somewhat caught up I spent the last part of Sunday afternoon finishing the sign for Rob’s candidacy for the school board. It was hard to believe but the election was less than a month away. I was just finishing up when I saw a shadow in the doorway of the garage. It was Sabrina. As soon as I saw her I had a negative feeling. She’d heard the lawn mower and had come over to ask if I knew anyone who cut lawns. She was standing in the doorway with the sun behind her. I could see the silhouette of her legs right through her dress and it was fairly obvious that she wasn’t wearing a slip. As I answered her my eyes never left her crotch area. I didn’t really know anyone who did that sort of work as all the people I knew did their own lawns. I did suggest that she go to the high school and check with the guidance department as I knew that they often found Summer work for students. She thanked me and then disappeared... but for only a second or two.
When she reappeared she was pointing toward my clothesline and asking to know who’d made it. I asked her why she wanted to know and she said she hated the one she had. I queried her as to what was wrong with it. Back when I'd first seen it when the house belonged to Celia lived I thought it had been a good idea. Having it attached to the garage and not taking up yard space made sense to me. I remember her giving me one of those looks that indicated that she thought I wasn’t too bright. When she explained her reason it made sense... the sun never reached the North side of the garage so her clothes didn’t always dry. Hearing her explain it I was kicking myself for not ever going to peek through the hedge since she’d moved in. Then she asked if it would be OK for her to use ours during the days when no one was home. Our line was out in the open and no matter which way the wind blew the clothes would get some air to help them dry. I told her I had no problem with it but if Elle did I’d let her know. When she disappeared from view, this time, she didn’t return. I was still mad at myself for never having checked out her washline. I certainly had when Celia and Sophie lived there. Now I wondered if I’d ever be home early enough to check ours out with Sabrina’s clothes draped on it.
The third Wednesday of the month was the Board of Trustees meeting and I “bugged” Hobie“ about the servicing of our accounts being taken over by an outside company, yet again. I could see that he was perturbed by my asking. He basically told me that the subject wasn’t going to be addressed until the Board had settled on a branch location and had preliminary approval from the banking department... and to drop the subject. The tone of his response was totally unexpected. The almost daily parade of Trustees across the lobby and headed upstairs had become commonplace and I was no longer ”on edge“ when I saw one or more of them "hovering" there. On Board meeting days they would usually arrive about 2:45pm and head right for the Board room. However, on this day I saw a few of them stop by one of the check writing desks and carry on a conversation. I watched as two well dressed men that I didn't recognize join them. I was curious as to why but before I could get any idea of what was going on Liz, the Auditor and Laura, her assistant, came up to my desk and put some papers down on it.
I quickly scanned them and, since nothing untoward jumped out at me, I asked what it was about. Liz lifted the top sheet and I saw a teller proof sheet with Jerene’s name on it. Circled in red were two different numbers. I had no idea what she wanted me to see. You would have to have known Liz understand that she expected people to know just what she was thinking. I remember looking up at her and putting my hands up. Laura was right behind her and I caught a glimpse of her face and she was trying to suppress a smile. In a tone that hinted of exasperation Liz pointed out that Jerene had transposed numbers on the proof sheet and yet had handed it in as being in proof. Then, to emphasize her point she lifted that sheet off and exposed another with the same type error. Not knowing what she wanted me to do right at that moment, I asked. At that point she snatched the papers up and strode off with Laura following behind her, much like a puppy.
I knew I’d have to speak to Jerene but I also knew I’d need the proof sheets back as well. I decided to let Liz cool down a bit and then speak to Jerene just before quitting time. I’d heard my phone ring and seen Trish pick it up. She told me it was J J and he was on the line. He said he was coming right down and from the tone of his voice I could tell it was some sort of ”news“. As soon as he opened the gate to the platform area he motioned me to go to the corner to the right of Hobie’s desk. " Did you see those two men being escorted upstairs by some Board members? They're adding two new Trustees!“ That was a shock. Right after the ”flap“ about the female employees wearing pants two of the oldest Trustees had supposedly ”resigned“ leaving two vacancies. I’d heard absolutely nothing about the Board looking to fill them and, listening to J J, he hadn’t either. But, what concerned him was that he knew one of the men. He lived in the same town as J J and I and was a member of J J’s church. I asked him who it was and he responded ”Polak Joe“.
To be continued...
Sunday turned out to be a “lost” day. I knew all the things I should’ve done on Saturday (mow the lawn, take the garbage to the landfill, change the oil in the station wagon) were waiting for me after church. However, the quest for a new minister was winding down and the parishioners were clamoring for the Vestry to make a decision. As I’d written earlier, the diocese had sent us a clear message as to who they wanted us to chose and he was there, again, to preach that Sunday. So, a special meeting was called to address the situation for a final time. Being the newest (and youngest) member I had very little say in the matter so kept my mouth shut even though I didn’t have a good feeling about the man... or his wife. By the time the meeting was over it was almost 1pm. Elle had taken the kids home so I had to find a ride. Another member offered me a ride but he needed to stop at his house first. By that time I was resigned to playing “catch-up” for the rest of the day and accepted his offer.
He had a son in Jean’s class but I’d never interacted much with him or his wife and I don’t remember why. He was a school teacher in another district and his wife was a stay at home mom. He’d bought an old farmhouse and was in the process of renovating it. I remember the driveway going completely around the house and as we circled it I saw one of my favorite things... a washline with clothes waving in the wind. He stopped in back and left the motor running while he went inside. I scanned the line for... what else, panties, and was somewhat rewarded. The line ran from the back of the house to a fairly large shed in the back yard. It ran at a bit of an angle so I only had a partial view but counted at least six pair with most being pastel.
After getting somewhat caught up I spent the last part of Sunday afternoon finishing the sign for Rob’s candidacy for the school board. It was hard to believe but the election was less than a month away. I was just finishing up when I saw a shadow in the doorway of the garage. It was Sabrina. As soon as I saw her I had a negative feeling. She’d heard the lawn mower and had come over to ask if I knew anyone who cut lawns. She was standing in the doorway with the sun behind her. I could see the silhouette of her legs right through her dress and it was fairly obvious that she wasn’t wearing a slip. As I answered her my eyes never left her crotch area. I didn’t really know anyone who did that sort of work as all the people I knew did their own lawns. I did suggest that she go to the high school and check with the guidance department as I knew that they often found Summer work for students. She thanked me and then disappeared... but for only a second or two.
When she reappeared she was pointing toward my clothesline and asking to know who’d made it. I asked her why she wanted to know and she said she hated the one she had. I queried her as to what was wrong with it. Back when I'd first seen it when the house belonged to Celia lived I thought it had been a good idea. Having it attached to the garage and not taking up yard space made sense to me. I remember her giving me one of those looks that indicated that she thought I wasn’t too bright. When she explained her reason it made sense... the sun never reached the North side of the garage so her clothes didn’t always dry. Hearing her explain it I was kicking myself for not ever going to peek through the hedge since she’d moved in. Then she asked if it would be OK for her to use ours during the days when no one was home. Our line was out in the open and no matter which way the wind blew the clothes would get some air to help them dry. I told her I had no problem with it but if Elle did I’d let her know. When she disappeared from view, this time, she didn’t return. I was still mad at myself for never having checked out her washline. I certainly had when Celia and Sophie lived there. Now I wondered if I’d ever be home early enough to check ours out with Sabrina’s clothes draped on it.
The third Wednesday of the month was the Board of Trustees meeting and I “bugged” Hobie“ about the servicing of our accounts being taken over by an outside company, yet again. I could see that he was perturbed by my asking. He basically told me that the subject wasn’t going to be addressed until the Board had settled on a branch location and had preliminary approval from the banking department... and to drop the subject. The tone of his response was totally unexpected. The almost daily parade of Trustees across the lobby and headed upstairs had become commonplace and I was no longer ”on edge“ when I saw one or more of them "hovering" there. On Board meeting days they would usually arrive about 2:45pm and head right for the Board room. However, on this day I saw a few of them stop by one of the check writing desks and carry on a conversation. I watched as two well dressed men that I didn't recognize join them. I was curious as to why but before I could get any idea of what was going on Liz, the Auditor and Laura, her assistant, came up to my desk and put some papers down on it.
I quickly scanned them and, since nothing untoward jumped out at me, I asked what it was about. Liz lifted the top sheet and I saw a teller proof sheet with Jerene’s name on it. Circled in red were two different numbers. I had no idea what she wanted me to see. You would have to have known Liz understand that she expected people to know just what she was thinking. I remember looking up at her and putting my hands up. Laura was right behind her and I caught a glimpse of her face and she was trying to suppress a smile. In a tone that hinted of exasperation Liz pointed out that Jerene had transposed numbers on the proof sheet and yet had handed it in as being in proof. Then, to emphasize her point she lifted that sheet off and exposed another with the same type error. Not knowing what she wanted me to do right at that moment, I asked. At that point she snatched the papers up and strode off with Laura following behind her, much like a puppy.
I knew I’d have to speak to Jerene but I also knew I’d need the proof sheets back as well. I decided to let Liz cool down a bit and then speak to Jerene just before quitting time. I’d heard my phone ring and seen Trish pick it up. She told me it was J J and he was on the line. He said he was coming right down and from the tone of his voice I could tell it was some sort of ”news“. As soon as he opened the gate to the platform area he motioned me to go to the corner to the right of Hobie’s desk. " Did you see those two men being escorted upstairs by some Board members? They're adding two new Trustees!“ That was a shock. Right after the ”flap“ about the female employees wearing pants two of the oldest Trustees had supposedly ”resigned“ leaving two vacancies. I’d heard absolutely nothing about the Board looking to fill them and, listening to J J, he hadn’t either. But, what concerned him was that he knew one of the men. He lived in the same town as J J and I and was a member of J J’s church. I asked him who it was and he responded ”Polak Joe“.
To be continued...
Monday, March 23, 2015
INTERESTING TIMES... A change of pace (Part 130b)
INTERESTING TIMES... A change of pace (Part 130b)
The other guys headed right for the car as “B” pulled off the track. I took my time getting there and as I did I could hear them “razzing” him with comments like “I could run faster than you were going” and “Your mother drives faster than that”. After a few minutes I told them to back off. “B” just sat in the car with his helmet off. I could see beads of perspiration running down from his forehead as I approached. Rather than to make a comment I asked him how it went. I couldn’t believe it when his answer was “I did what you told me to do... I took it easy”.
I had to “bite my tongue”. What I wanted to say and what I did say were diametrically opposed. I remember taking a deep breath and, as calmly as I could, told him that I’d only meant for him to take it easy for the first few laps. He wouldn’t look at me, just staring out of the windshield. Again, as calmly as I could I explained that on the next track session when the green flag came out signaling to “GO!” I wanted him to floor the accelerator pedal, just like he liked to do in his road car and then, as he approached the turns, lift his foot off until the next straightaway. When he didn’t respond I asked if he’d heard me and he nodded that he did. At that point I walked away. I told the other guys to just leave him alone for now. He stayed strapped in to his seat until they called for our division cars to go out for the next session.
I busied myself while waiting by watching the faster cars practice. Cliffy’s car seemed to be among the faster ones but since “B” was to go out right after they finished up I had to wait to talk with him. As “B” was about to pull out of our pit I yelled through the window that I didn’t want to see the left wheels on the white line. When the green flag was waved “B” was on the front stretch and I could actually see the car leap forward... for a few feet and then slow considerably. After he made it through the first and second turns the car leaped forward again and this time it made it half way to the turn before slowing again. It was definitely an improvement as it was now taking the other cars longer to lap him. Pulling off the track I could see the same look on his face as after the first time. I was really surprised because I thought I knew him pretty well.
One thing that took my mind off “B” and his “problem” was in watching Bebe walking around. Between the times when “B” was out on the track and just waiting around she’d chosen, as her perch, the hood of Pete’s car. As I’d mentioned, the pits weren’t paved but were just a combination of sand and dirt. Every time a car would drive by it would create a cloud of dust which settled everywhere... especially on the roofs and hood of the passenger cars that were parked there. When she slid off to walk around she had the most glorious VPL. The ridge of the crotch was highlighted. I’d never seen anything like it before. I’d learned how to spot VPL’s even when the color of the pants covering the panties was a dark color. But, Bebe’s pants were white and this half moon line was a light, but pronounced, brown. As I said, I’d never seen one like it before.
For the last session I told “B” that I wanted to see him get out towards the middle of the race track... that when he was racing he’d end up there one way or another. When the green flag started waving “B” pulled out to the middle of the front straight away but wasn’t going all that fast. Then, as he approached the turn he made a sharp left to the inside. When he did he cut another car off. The other driver, having seen “B” in the middle of the track, cut down to pass him on the inside. “B” never saw him and the other car hit “B’s” left rear tire a glancing blow. As soon as he was hit “B” cut into the infield and stayed there for the rest of the session. When he came in I told the others to stay back as I wanted to hear what “B” had to say.
“Something broke!” was what he yelled at me. He was very animated and very sure of himself. I got him to take his helmet off and then proceeded to tell him that he’d cut off another car and had been hit by him... nothing had broken. He sat there shaking his head telling me that he knew something had broken and that’s why he pulled off the track. I gave up at that point. I’d asked the others not to say anything and it would probably be best if, after helping to load our stuff into the car, they all left and that I’d ride home with “B”.
By the time we reached the barn “B” was back to being “B”. It was almost like he didn’t remember what had taken place the previous few hours. He was all pumped up about the improvement in his performance during the afternoon. I just sat there and listened to him. The last thing he said before I took off for home was that we’d get the car fixed back up and be ready for the next practice session the following Saturday. Getting into my car I was shaking my head. There was nothing to do to the car but to check it over and fill the gas tank. When the other car him him it didn’t do any damage at all. By the time I pulled in my driveway I was wondering, again, just what I’d gotten myself into.
Walking into the kitchen, Elle hit me with a surprise. Sandy and Johnnie were coming over. I hadn’t seen her since her miscarriage even though she’d gone back to work at the hardware store. Even though I was tired and frustrated I was kind of glad they would be visiting. It would definitely take my mind off of “B” and his “performance”, or lack thereof, at the track.
Sandy had watched Kaye the previous Thursday and Elle had said she was in good spirits. She’d even mentioned that she and Johnnie had thought about adopting. I was surprised when Elle said they were coming before the kids were to go to bed but she said that Sandy had requested it. Not a psychologist, I thought that it was a good sign.
The first thing Sandy did after arriving was to ask the girls to play a game with her. They picked out a board game and set it up on the floor of the den. I was looking forward to picking Johnnie’s brain about the situation at the school so we went out to the kitchen. Pat,(the PTA lady) had passed on some rumors about changes in the physical education area. I realized right after I mentioned it that it was a “touchy” subject with him and that he wasn’t comfortable in discussing it. I could tell he had some real concerns. When we returned to the den my evening was made... a DP and a VPL. It didn’t matter that I knew what panties she was wearing... that just made it more exciting. The DP exhibited a “tube” type waist elastic. When Elle and I’d made up the “dribble panties” for Sandy we’d used Modern Globe nylon satin panties with that type waist elastic. But the VPL confirmed it. With four layers of terrycloth between the two layers of nylon there was a specific bulge. I knew it oh so well from Elle wearing them. It made a disappointing day much, much better!
To be continued...
The other guys headed right for the car as “B” pulled off the track. I took my time getting there and as I did I could hear them “razzing” him with comments like “I could run faster than you were going” and “Your mother drives faster than that”. After a few minutes I told them to back off. “B” just sat in the car with his helmet off. I could see beads of perspiration running down from his forehead as I approached. Rather than to make a comment I asked him how it went. I couldn’t believe it when his answer was “I did what you told me to do... I took it easy”.
I had to “bite my tongue”. What I wanted to say and what I did say were diametrically opposed. I remember taking a deep breath and, as calmly as I could, told him that I’d only meant for him to take it easy for the first few laps. He wouldn’t look at me, just staring out of the windshield. Again, as calmly as I could I explained that on the next track session when the green flag came out signaling to “GO!” I wanted him to floor the accelerator pedal, just like he liked to do in his road car and then, as he approached the turns, lift his foot off until the next straightaway. When he didn’t respond I asked if he’d heard me and he nodded that he did. At that point I walked away. I told the other guys to just leave him alone for now. He stayed strapped in to his seat until they called for our division cars to go out for the next session.
I busied myself while waiting by watching the faster cars practice. Cliffy’s car seemed to be among the faster ones but since “B” was to go out right after they finished up I had to wait to talk with him. As “B” was about to pull out of our pit I yelled through the window that I didn’t want to see the left wheels on the white line. When the green flag was waved “B” was on the front stretch and I could actually see the car leap forward... for a few feet and then slow considerably. After he made it through the first and second turns the car leaped forward again and this time it made it half way to the turn before slowing again. It was definitely an improvement as it was now taking the other cars longer to lap him. Pulling off the track I could see the same look on his face as after the first time. I was really surprised because I thought I knew him pretty well.
One thing that took my mind off “B” and his “problem” was in watching Bebe walking around. Between the times when “B” was out on the track and just waiting around she’d chosen, as her perch, the hood of Pete’s car. As I’d mentioned, the pits weren’t paved but were just a combination of sand and dirt. Every time a car would drive by it would create a cloud of dust which settled everywhere... especially on the roofs and hood of the passenger cars that were parked there. When she slid off to walk around she had the most glorious VPL. The ridge of the crotch was highlighted. I’d never seen anything like it before. I’d learned how to spot VPL’s even when the color of the pants covering the panties was a dark color. But, Bebe’s pants were white and this half moon line was a light, but pronounced, brown. As I said, I’d never seen one like it before.
For the last session I told “B” that I wanted to see him get out towards the middle of the race track... that when he was racing he’d end up there one way or another. When the green flag started waving “B” pulled out to the middle of the front straight away but wasn’t going all that fast. Then, as he approached the turn he made a sharp left to the inside. When he did he cut another car off. The other driver, having seen “B” in the middle of the track, cut down to pass him on the inside. “B” never saw him and the other car hit “B’s” left rear tire a glancing blow. As soon as he was hit “B” cut into the infield and stayed there for the rest of the session. When he came in I told the others to stay back as I wanted to hear what “B” had to say.
“Something broke!” was what he yelled at me. He was very animated and very sure of himself. I got him to take his helmet off and then proceeded to tell him that he’d cut off another car and had been hit by him... nothing had broken. He sat there shaking his head telling me that he knew something had broken and that’s why he pulled off the track. I gave up at that point. I’d asked the others not to say anything and it would probably be best if, after helping to load our stuff into the car, they all left and that I’d ride home with “B”.
By the time we reached the barn “B” was back to being “B”. It was almost like he didn’t remember what had taken place the previous few hours. He was all pumped up about the improvement in his performance during the afternoon. I just sat there and listened to him. The last thing he said before I took off for home was that we’d get the car fixed back up and be ready for the next practice session the following Saturday. Getting into my car I was shaking my head. There was nothing to do to the car but to check it over and fill the gas tank. When the other car him him it didn’t do any damage at all. By the time I pulled in my driveway I was wondering, again, just what I’d gotten myself into.
Walking into the kitchen, Elle hit me with a surprise. Sandy and Johnnie were coming over. I hadn’t seen her since her miscarriage even though she’d gone back to work at the hardware store. Even though I was tired and frustrated I was kind of glad they would be visiting. It would definitely take my mind off of “B” and his “performance”, or lack thereof, at the track.
Sandy had watched Kaye the previous Thursday and Elle had said she was in good spirits. She’d even mentioned that she and Johnnie had thought about adopting. I was surprised when Elle said they were coming before the kids were to go to bed but she said that Sandy had requested it. Not a psychologist, I thought that it was a good sign.
The first thing Sandy did after arriving was to ask the girls to play a game with her. They picked out a board game and set it up on the floor of the den. I was looking forward to picking Johnnie’s brain about the situation at the school so we went out to the kitchen. Pat,(the PTA lady) had passed on some rumors about changes in the physical education area. I realized right after I mentioned it that it was a “touchy” subject with him and that he wasn’t comfortable in discussing it. I could tell he had some real concerns. When we returned to the den my evening was made... a DP and a VPL. It didn’t matter that I knew what panties she was wearing... that just made it more exciting. The DP exhibited a “tube” type waist elastic. When Elle and I’d made up the “dribble panties” for Sandy we’d used Modern Globe nylon satin panties with that type waist elastic. But the VPL confirmed it. With four layers of terrycloth between the two layers of nylon there was a specific bulge. I knew it oh so well from Elle wearing them. It made a disappointing day much, much better!
To be continued...
Thursday, March 19, 2015
INTERESTING TIMES... A change of pace (Part 130a)
INTERESTING TIMES... A change of pace (Part 130a)
It was dark by the time we got the car to the barn. Even with limited light we got all our tools and things that wouldn’t fit in my car into the racecar. But there was still one more project... mount the old tires on the rims that Jay had found for us as spares. I knew Cliffy would be working on his car so we headed to his father’s shop. What a contrast! We were working on a dirt floor with a drop cord for light and a makeshift workbench while Cliffy had every tool imaginable, a welder, heat and good lighting. We got the tires mounted and chatted with him about what he expected for the season. He surprised me when he said he wasn’t going to race at the local track. His father and the owner of the track were at odds with each other and since Cliffy’s father paid the bills he didn’t have any say in the matter. I’d been looking forward to seeing him on a regular basis so was disappointed with the news.
Saturday morning turned out to be bright and sunny. I’d not slept a lot worried that I’d forgotten something important. ”B“ and I left for the track around 11am with the ”unmarrieds“ (Pete, Tom and Martin) coming a bit later. After we arrived at the track, registered and gotten the car inspected (that was a joke!) we took a look around at some of the other cars. The pit area still looked the same as when I was racing... dirt mixed with sand and, making it worse, uneven. We saw that some of the racers had staked out areas and leveled them as best they could. Others had brought sheets of plywood so they could work on the cars without rolling around in the dirt.
There were four different classes of cars with the fastest being called Modifieds. The cars for the Sportsman division were actually the same as the Modifieds with the only difference being the carburetor. They were limited to using a two barrel while a Modified used a four barrel. To make things confusing, they all raced together but were scored separately. For example, a car crossing the finish line in 5th place might actually be the winner in the Sportsman division. We were in the Hobby division which was limited to six cylinder engines or the old outmoded Ford ”flathead“ engine. That’s what we were using. We knew we were handicapped because of it but from an economic standpoint it made sense. The fourth division were called Bombers. Other than for putting a roll cage in the car they were right off the street, narrow tires and all.
When the ”unmarrieds“ finally showed up there was an addition... Bebe. The first thing I saw was that she was wearing white pants. From a personal standpoint I liked it... a good chance for a VPL. But, common sense wise it wasn’t. White pants in the pits of a racetrack spelled disaster for them. However, she had brought sandwiches for us to eat. Her parents ran a restaurant and she was able to prevail upon them to feed us.
The Modified/Sportsman cars were the first on the track for practice. Even though he didn’t plan on racing there, Cliffy was one of the first to go out. Only a few minutes into the practice one car lost control and hit the fence. When they towed the car off the track we were there to look at the damage. What had happened was that someone forgot to tighten a nut on one of the steering components. I got to thinking about it and decided to ask ”B“ if I could take the car out before he did, just to make sure it would go around in a circle. After watching the crash and the results of it he climbed out of the car and said something along the lines of ”Be my guest!“
The seat and shoulder belts had been adjusted for ”B“ who weighed in excess of 300 pounds. I weighed about half of that so getting the belts to fit my frame took some doing. I think I was so involved in that process I didn’t have time to to get nervous until I started the motor. I’d always been nervous in the pits, waiting to go out onto the track, but as soon as the car rose over the banking and onto the track itself I was fine. The same thing happened that day. I definitely remember driving, slowly, down into the first turn and remembering the last race I’d been in when I’d ended up impaled on the first turn fence. It didn’t bother me though. The speed on the track was controlled by a flagman. Yellow meant caution or to go slow. Red meant for everybody to stop and green was to go as fast as we could. It took three laps before the green flag was displayed but I didn’t ”floor“ it. With a newly rebuilt engine I wanted to make sure that it was properly warmed up. Gradually I increased the pressure on the accelerator finally ”flooring“ it coming off the second turn and heading down the back straightaway. I ”feathered“ the pedal a bit but didn't lift my foot of it. I wasn’t sure what the car was going to do in the turn, at speed. I was pleasantly surprised in that it went just where I steered it. Emboldened, I floored it going down the front straightaway and, in a bold move, especially for me, hardly lifted my foot off the pedal as we headed into the turn. Again, the car went where I’d wanted it to go. In the four years of racing that I’d previously done I’d never had an experience like that. I think I took a deep breath and then decided to try to make it through the next turn with my foot holding the pedal to the floor. Again, the car handled perfectly. I really couldn’t believe it. I pulled in and told ”B“ and the others that the car was ready and now it was up to him.
We only had 15 minutes on the track and it was almost up when I pulled off. Since we had about 45 minutes until our next session and all we had to do was get the safety belts set for ”B“ it was decided to eat. Most of us just stood around as we ate but Bebe had jumped up on the hood of Pete’s car. Being so short (5’3” or so) she liked to be “perched” on something so as not to be looked down upon.
As we prepared for “B” to go on the track I told him to take it easy at first and to use this 15 minute segment to get acclimated to the sight lines in the car and the responsiveness of the accelerator. As I spoke to him I noticed something I’d never seen before... it was like he was in a trance or something. When they called for the cars to start rolling onto the track I remember Martin punching him in the arm to get him to go forward. As I mentioned earlier, we knew we were underpowered using the type motor we had. However, on a few of the laps that I’d made I found that the six cylinder cars weren’t running away and hiding from me. That had been an encouraging sign. That is until “B” pulled onto the track.
The infield was marked by a painted white line on the pavement. That was where the track got measured and determined to be one quarter mile long. None of us could believe our eyes as “B” put his left front wheel on that line and never left it. I remember watching an old racing friend of mine make four laps to “B’s” one. My first thought was that there was a problem with the accelerator pedal. When “B” pulled up to us he had this big smile on his face and, in all sincerity, announced he’d never gone so fast in his life.
The last year that I’d raced it had been determined that the hobby class cars averaged about 65 miles per hour doing one lap and reached a top speed of just under 80 at the end of each straightaway. After “B” and I had rebuilt the motor in his car (a former police cruiser) we went and tried it out and, at least according to the speedometer, had hit 100 MPH. My guess was that “B” averaged around 45 mph with a top sped of maybe 50 on the track. Thinking back to my laps around the track with the car I’d felt that it was more powerful than any I’d ever driven and definitely the best handling. I didn’t really want address the thought that was creeping into my head... “B” was scared.
To be continued...
It was dark by the time we got the car to the barn. Even with limited light we got all our tools and things that wouldn’t fit in my car into the racecar. But there was still one more project... mount the old tires on the rims that Jay had found for us as spares. I knew Cliffy would be working on his car so we headed to his father’s shop. What a contrast! We were working on a dirt floor with a drop cord for light and a makeshift workbench while Cliffy had every tool imaginable, a welder, heat and good lighting. We got the tires mounted and chatted with him about what he expected for the season. He surprised me when he said he wasn’t going to race at the local track. His father and the owner of the track were at odds with each other and since Cliffy’s father paid the bills he didn’t have any say in the matter. I’d been looking forward to seeing him on a regular basis so was disappointed with the news.
Saturday morning turned out to be bright and sunny. I’d not slept a lot worried that I’d forgotten something important. ”B“ and I left for the track around 11am with the ”unmarrieds“ (Pete, Tom and Martin) coming a bit later. After we arrived at the track, registered and gotten the car inspected (that was a joke!) we took a look around at some of the other cars. The pit area still looked the same as when I was racing... dirt mixed with sand and, making it worse, uneven. We saw that some of the racers had staked out areas and leveled them as best they could. Others had brought sheets of plywood so they could work on the cars without rolling around in the dirt.
There were four different classes of cars with the fastest being called Modifieds. The cars for the Sportsman division were actually the same as the Modifieds with the only difference being the carburetor. They were limited to using a two barrel while a Modified used a four barrel. To make things confusing, they all raced together but were scored separately. For example, a car crossing the finish line in 5th place might actually be the winner in the Sportsman division. We were in the Hobby division which was limited to six cylinder engines or the old outmoded Ford ”flathead“ engine. That’s what we were using. We knew we were handicapped because of it but from an economic standpoint it made sense. The fourth division were called Bombers. Other than for putting a roll cage in the car they were right off the street, narrow tires and all.
When the ”unmarrieds“ finally showed up there was an addition... Bebe. The first thing I saw was that she was wearing white pants. From a personal standpoint I liked it... a good chance for a VPL. But, common sense wise it wasn’t. White pants in the pits of a racetrack spelled disaster for them. However, she had brought sandwiches for us to eat. Her parents ran a restaurant and she was able to prevail upon them to feed us.
The Modified/Sportsman cars were the first on the track for practice. Even though he didn’t plan on racing there, Cliffy was one of the first to go out. Only a few minutes into the practice one car lost control and hit the fence. When they towed the car off the track we were there to look at the damage. What had happened was that someone forgot to tighten a nut on one of the steering components. I got to thinking about it and decided to ask ”B“ if I could take the car out before he did, just to make sure it would go around in a circle. After watching the crash and the results of it he climbed out of the car and said something along the lines of ”Be my guest!“
The seat and shoulder belts had been adjusted for ”B“ who weighed in excess of 300 pounds. I weighed about half of that so getting the belts to fit my frame took some doing. I think I was so involved in that process I didn’t have time to to get nervous until I started the motor. I’d always been nervous in the pits, waiting to go out onto the track, but as soon as the car rose over the banking and onto the track itself I was fine. The same thing happened that day. I definitely remember driving, slowly, down into the first turn and remembering the last race I’d been in when I’d ended up impaled on the first turn fence. It didn’t bother me though. The speed on the track was controlled by a flagman. Yellow meant caution or to go slow. Red meant for everybody to stop and green was to go as fast as we could. It took three laps before the green flag was displayed but I didn’t ”floor“ it. With a newly rebuilt engine I wanted to make sure that it was properly warmed up. Gradually I increased the pressure on the accelerator finally ”flooring“ it coming off the second turn and heading down the back straightaway. I ”feathered“ the pedal a bit but didn't lift my foot of it. I wasn’t sure what the car was going to do in the turn, at speed. I was pleasantly surprised in that it went just where I steered it. Emboldened, I floored it going down the front straightaway and, in a bold move, especially for me, hardly lifted my foot off the pedal as we headed into the turn. Again, the car went where I’d wanted it to go. In the four years of racing that I’d previously done I’d never had an experience like that. I think I took a deep breath and then decided to try to make it through the next turn with my foot holding the pedal to the floor. Again, the car handled perfectly. I really couldn’t believe it. I pulled in and told ”B“ and the others that the car was ready and now it was up to him.
We only had 15 minutes on the track and it was almost up when I pulled off. Since we had about 45 minutes until our next session and all we had to do was get the safety belts set for ”B“ it was decided to eat. Most of us just stood around as we ate but Bebe had jumped up on the hood of Pete’s car. Being so short (5’3” or so) she liked to be “perched” on something so as not to be looked down upon.
As we prepared for “B” to go on the track I told him to take it easy at first and to use this 15 minute segment to get acclimated to the sight lines in the car and the responsiveness of the accelerator. As I spoke to him I noticed something I’d never seen before... it was like he was in a trance or something. When they called for the cars to start rolling onto the track I remember Martin punching him in the arm to get him to go forward. As I mentioned earlier, we knew we were underpowered using the type motor we had. However, on a few of the laps that I’d made I found that the six cylinder cars weren’t running away and hiding from me. That had been an encouraging sign. That is until “B” pulled onto the track.
The infield was marked by a painted white line on the pavement. That was where the track got measured and determined to be one quarter mile long. None of us could believe our eyes as “B” put his left front wheel on that line and never left it. I remember watching an old racing friend of mine make four laps to “B’s” one. My first thought was that there was a problem with the accelerator pedal. When “B” pulled up to us he had this big smile on his face and, in all sincerity, announced he’d never gone so fast in his life.
The last year that I’d raced it had been determined that the hobby class cars averaged about 65 miles per hour doing one lap and reached a top speed of just under 80 at the end of each straightaway. After “B” and I had rebuilt the motor in his car (a former police cruiser) we went and tried it out and, at least according to the speedometer, had hit 100 MPH. My guess was that “B” averaged around 45 mph with a top sped of maybe 50 on the track. Thinking back to my laps around the track with the car I’d felt that it was more powerful than any I’d ever driven and definitely the best handling. I didn’t really want address the thought that was creeping into my head... “B” was scared.
To be continued...
Tuesday, March 17, 2015
SURVIVING... Same ole, same ole (Part 129k)
SURVIVING... Same ole, same ole (Part 129k)
Jerene started to speak but was stopped by Gina who’d managed to get her skirt up but not fastened. As she sat down on the sofa I remember her looking over at me standing in the hallway. Then she calmly explained that Jerene had offered to shorten some of her summer skirts and was in the process of pinning them to the right height. Her calmness sort of surprised me. Technically, they weren’t doing anything wrong and the room was not “off limits”. I was at a loss for words. After a few seconds of not knowing what to say I reminded them that they should be at the back door before 5:10pm and to turn out the lights when they left the room. At that point it was me who was embarrassed.
I went on into the storage area of the cellar and found the box Hobie wanted. When I returned and walked past the break room I didn’t look in (through the window) and hurried on up the stairs. At the top I saw Hobie headed in my direction. I’d taken so long he wanted to make sure I was OK. Back at my desk I decided I’d wait for Gina and Jerene to leave and it was only a matter of minutes before they appeared. As they walked out I couldn’t help but wonder if Jerene had said anything about what she and I’d discussed about her panties. I could only hope she’d had enough common sense to keep her mouth shut.
I was out by my car when I remembered that I’d wanted to call my friend Jay over at the county center. When I was unable to locate any spare rims for the racecar I called him earlier in the week. No longer active in racing he still had a lot of friends who were and he’d come up with parts that I’d needed in the past. He’d told me he would call around and get back to me. Here it was Thursday and I still hadn’t gotten his call.
The one thing I wanted to get finished that night was the lettering on the racecar. “B” and I’d wanted the number to be US2 but the track would only allow one alpha letter on a racecar so we shortened it to U2. Back in the very early 60’s an American spy plane had been shot down by the Russians. The plane was known as a U2 and there was a lot of newsprint devoted to the incident. As a result the letter U and the number 2, together had people thinking airplanes. We’d been taking some good natured ribbing about our choice. But, quite by incident, the Peanuts cartoons at that time were featuring Snoopy as a decorated WWI fighter pilot and going after Germany’s Red Baron. I decided to paint Snoopy as the pilot, manning a machine gun, on the side of the car. The kids got a kick out of seeing me paint Snoopy on the car. I worked until midnight as I wanted to devote Friday night on doing the last minute things.
Friday morning I finally got Jay on the phone and all I could get from him was that he was “working on it“. It was Hobie’s turn to work late and since I hadn’t benefitted from getting out early the previous night I planned on taking off around 4pm. I’d given up on Jay as he still hadn’t called me. However, as I went out the back doors there was his red 4 wheel drive pick up truck stopped behind my car. I also saw two rusty rims. He had a big smile on his face and apologized for not getting back to me saying he’d had to go half way to the city to get them.
Elle and I arrived at the same time. I warned her that I’d be running the racecar motor and to keep the kids inside when I did. We didn’t run mufflers so the sound of the exhaust was rather harsh. It was somewhat exciting to be sitting behind the wheel and hitting the start switch. Inside our small garage the noise was unbelievable so I quickly put the car in gear and edged it out the doors. Even outside it was loud!
I wanted to let the engine run for a while to get the parts broken in a bit. Standing in the driveway and looking at the car I was proud of myself for the way it had turned out. Elle came out and handed me the Polaroid camera. I’d never given a thought to taking any pictures of it. The sun was still bright enough to get a good picture so I stepped back and snapped a couple.
She’d also come out to say that supper was on the table. As I
followed her inside I left the motor running. I was somewhat surprised at
how loud it sounded even inside the house. Supper didn’t take long and as I
had things to do I didn’t linger. When I started back to the car I saw Sabrina
standing near it with her hands on her ears. She was wearing a
pair of flowered capris which pretty much muted any chance for a VPL. As
I shut the motor down she approached and asked what it was pointing to
the car. It was obvious that she’d never seen a stock car. I tried to
explain it but it was somewhat like talking to a wall. By then ”B“ and
Martin had showed up. Martin insisted on being introduced to Sabrina
and, reluctantly, I did. As ”B“ and Martin looked over the lettering on
the car Sabrina just stood there. Pete then showed up with a small bottle of champagne saying we needed to christen the car
like they christened boats. He wanted to do it right than but I didn’t
want to have to clean up the broken glass so we decided to wait until the
car was to go on the track for the first time.
I’d lost track of Sabrina and when I noticed her again she was talking with Martin. I remember thinking, ”poor guy!“ But, all of a sudden he called out to the group of us to follow Sabrina. The quickest way was through the hedge and I was the last to make it. By the time I did the others were headed for Sabrina’s garage. I hadn’t given much, if any, thought, to what Sabrina used for transportation. I’d not seen a car in the driveway and I was about to find out why.
Martin rolled the door aside and there was a pristine 1955 T-Bird. The sight of it brought back some memories as the father of my boarding school friend, Fred, had one and I’d gotten a ride in it right after graduation. Every time I saw one on the road I was envious. Because Sabrina had spent most of her life in the city she’d never needed a car. But, moving to a rural area changed things. She’d talked her father into letting her bring it when she moved in making her promise to keep it garaged and not to use it when it rained. When Martin tried to talk her into giving us rides she was adamant with her ”NO!“ However, it didn’t stop the rest of us from checking the car out thoroughly. One thing I remember distinctly was that there was only around 25,000 miles on the odometer.
The sun was now sinking fast and I wanted to get the car to the barn so we could load all the things we’d need the next day into the racecar as there wasn't room enough for everything in my car. The plan was to leave for the track by 11am so we could get the car registered and be ready for the first practice. As we piled out of Sabrina’s garage I couldn’t help but notice the attention that she was giving to Martin and, shaking my head.
To be continued...
Jerene started to speak but was stopped by Gina who’d managed to get her skirt up but not fastened. As she sat down on the sofa I remember her looking over at me standing in the hallway. Then she calmly explained that Jerene had offered to shorten some of her summer skirts and was in the process of pinning them to the right height. Her calmness sort of surprised me. Technically, they weren’t doing anything wrong and the room was not “off limits”. I was at a loss for words. After a few seconds of not knowing what to say I reminded them that they should be at the back door before 5:10pm and to turn out the lights when they left the room. At that point it was me who was embarrassed.
I went on into the storage area of the cellar and found the box Hobie wanted. When I returned and walked past the break room I didn’t look in (through the window) and hurried on up the stairs. At the top I saw Hobie headed in my direction. I’d taken so long he wanted to make sure I was OK. Back at my desk I decided I’d wait for Gina and Jerene to leave and it was only a matter of minutes before they appeared. As they walked out I couldn’t help but wonder if Jerene had said anything about what she and I’d discussed about her panties. I could only hope she’d had enough common sense to keep her mouth shut.
I was out by my car when I remembered that I’d wanted to call my friend Jay over at the county center. When I was unable to locate any spare rims for the racecar I called him earlier in the week. No longer active in racing he still had a lot of friends who were and he’d come up with parts that I’d needed in the past. He’d told me he would call around and get back to me. Here it was Thursday and I still hadn’t gotten his call.
The one thing I wanted to get finished that night was the lettering on the racecar. “B” and I’d wanted the number to be US2 but the track would only allow one alpha letter on a racecar so we shortened it to U2. Back in the very early 60’s an American spy plane had been shot down by the Russians. The plane was known as a U2 and there was a lot of newsprint devoted to the incident. As a result the letter U and the number 2, together had people thinking airplanes. We’d been taking some good natured ribbing about our choice. But, quite by incident, the Peanuts cartoons at that time were featuring Snoopy as a decorated WWI fighter pilot and going after Germany’s Red Baron. I decided to paint Snoopy as the pilot, manning a machine gun, on the side of the car. The kids got a kick out of seeing me paint Snoopy on the car. I worked until midnight as I wanted to devote Friday night on doing the last minute things.
Friday morning I finally got Jay on the phone and all I could get from him was that he was “working on it“. It was Hobie’s turn to work late and since I hadn’t benefitted from getting out early the previous night I planned on taking off around 4pm. I’d given up on Jay as he still hadn’t called me. However, as I went out the back doors there was his red 4 wheel drive pick up truck stopped behind my car. I also saw two rusty rims. He had a big smile on his face and apologized for not getting back to me saying he’d had to go half way to the city to get them.
Elle and I arrived at the same time. I warned her that I’d be running the racecar motor and to keep the kids inside when I did. We didn’t run mufflers so the sound of the exhaust was rather harsh. It was somewhat exciting to be sitting behind the wheel and hitting the start switch. Inside our small garage the noise was unbelievable so I quickly put the car in gear and edged it out the doors. Even outside it was loud!
I wanted to let the engine run for a while to get the parts broken in a bit. Standing in the driveway and looking at the car I was proud of myself for the way it had turned out. Elle came out and handed me the Polaroid camera. I’d never given a thought to taking any pictures of it. The sun was still bright enough to get a good picture so I stepped back and snapped a couple.
I’d lost track of Sabrina and when I noticed her again she was talking with Martin. I remember thinking, ”poor guy!“ But, all of a sudden he called out to the group of us to follow Sabrina. The quickest way was through the hedge and I was the last to make it. By the time I did the others were headed for Sabrina’s garage. I hadn’t given much, if any, thought, to what Sabrina used for transportation. I’d not seen a car in the driveway and I was about to find out why.
Martin rolled the door aside and there was a pristine 1955 T-Bird. The sight of it brought back some memories as the father of my boarding school friend, Fred, had one and I’d gotten a ride in it right after graduation. Every time I saw one on the road I was envious. Because Sabrina had spent most of her life in the city she’d never needed a car. But, moving to a rural area changed things. She’d talked her father into letting her bring it when she moved in making her promise to keep it garaged and not to use it when it rained. When Martin tried to talk her into giving us rides she was adamant with her ”NO!“ However, it didn’t stop the rest of us from checking the car out thoroughly. One thing I remember distinctly was that there was only around 25,000 miles on the odometer.
The sun was now sinking fast and I wanted to get the car to the barn so we could load all the things we’d need the next day into the racecar as there wasn't room enough for everything in my car. The plan was to leave for the track by 11am so we could get the car registered and be ready for the first practice. As we piled out of Sabrina’s garage I couldn’t help but notice the attention that she was giving to Martin and, shaking my head.
To be continued...
Sunday, March 15, 2015
SURVIVING... Same ole, same ole (Part 129j)
SURVIVING... Same ole, same ole, (Part 129j)
The skirts were Gina’s. She’d brought them in for Jerene to shorten them for her but when the keys went missing the skirts were on the counter and in the way so she’d put them in her personal drawer. On the fact that it was locked she said that with all the people looking around for the keys and it getting so late that she’d forgotten that she’d locked it. That was when I told her that we’d finally found the keys, mixed in with her things in the drawer. I told her that we’d had to pick the lock and that when we pulled all the clothes out we’d heard a metallic sound and found the keys in amongst her stuff in the bottom of the drawer. I was concentrating on her facial expression when I told her that and I wasn’t disappointed. She let out a very noticeable “OH!” and put her hand up to her mouth... and then, after a few seconds, she looked down into her lap.
I remember staring at her and, for the first time, feeling sorry for her. The only thing that she really did wrong was to not put the keys back where they belonged... and the bank had to assume some responsibility in that they’d allowed both keys to remain on the same key ring for so long without putting one in the locked key storage box along with all the other spare keys. I sat there looking at her, with her head still down, finally asking her if she learned anything from what had happened. When she looked up at me I could see what appeared to be tears forming in the corners of her eyes. She started to speak a couple of times and when she finally did said that she shouldn’t have been doing personal things (Gina’s skirts) during banking hours. She’d gotten distracted in trying to do Gina a favor. At that point I emphasized that when using the bank’s safe deposit key it had to go back to the assigned location after each and every use... no exceptions. She took a deep breath and nodded in agreement.
I allowed her to compose herself before excusing her. To try and ease the tension a little bit I asked her if there was anything new in her life. That perked her up a bit and she said she had a boyfriend. With the start of a smile on her face she described him a bit and then I told her to get to work. She stood up and, surprisingly, I saw the old Jerene reappear as the half smile and fluttering eyelashes returned. She started to walk away but then she stopped and returned, leaning over the front of my desk. “Did you go through ALL the things in my drawer?” I looked right at her and nodded affirmatively. She smiled and then added “But am wearing nylon now...” and turned and sort of strutted back towards her station. I knew I'd been "had".
I was actually mad... but there was nothing I could do at that point. When I looked at the $120 invoice on my desk it made me madder. I’d had the opportunity to put it on her but got soft hearted and fell for her contrite “act”. At the same time I knew that I had to be careful dealing with her because she could turn it back on me. Not a good situation.
Bret had handled the obnoxious safe deposit customer but had Bert with him to take some of the pressure off. After I calmed down I wrote up new procedures for handling the bank’s access key(s) for safe deposit boxes and distributed them to each and every teller. I spoke with all with the exception of Jerene. I knew if I said anything to her and as upset as I was with her that it wouldn’t be good. About mid afternoon Trish, (representing the Polish mafia) approached me to ask if there was any possibility for those who’d stayed late the previous day to leave early. I thought it was a good idea but ran the idea by Hobie, concerned that the employees from the second floor might take exception to it. J J was always “zinging” me about special attention that he perceived the tellers were getting. Hobie gave his OK and said he’d take care of J J. I knew he had never fully accepted J J and somewhat enjoyed knocking his ego back a peg.
All the tellers were “in proof” a little before 4:30pm and it didn’t take long for the first floor employees to disappear. I stayed around to work on the ads for the upcoming new account/gift program and Hobie was on the phone. It was nice to be able to concentrate on the project without interruptions from the public. I don’t know how long it was before Hobie called out to me. He was still on the phone and explained that he had the Chairman of the Board on the phone. He’d been the president prior to Bert. When he cleaned out his things from his desk when he was leaving he’d boxed some items up that he felt might be important to the bank. He wanted to know if Hobie knew where the box was. He didn’t. That was what Hobie wanted me for. I told him I pretty much knew where to locate it in the cellar and he dispatched me to get it.
At the bottom of the stairs to the cellar was the “break” room where there was a coffee machine, sink/stove/refrigerator combination, a three person sofa, two comfortable chairs and an old baked enamel table with six pull up chairs. Hank, the messenger/custodian would clean the room up at around 4pm, get the coffee machine ready for the next day and then turn out the lights. So, when halfway down the stairs, I wasn’t expecting to see light coming from the door which was partially open. I stopped and heard voices. Then I took some slow steps to the bottom and tried to peer in to see who was there without being seen. From where I stopped I could see about half the sofa and within seconds I saw Gina move into my line of sight. It took my breath away. She was looking the other way which was good. What had startled me was that she wasn’t wearing her skirt... or her slip. What I saw was a very trim young woman in a pair of light blue bikini panties. I got to see a bit of butt cheek but it was mostly a side view She still had her blouse on but I could see flesh above the waist elastic. It was such a surprise that I can’t even begin to estimate how long I stood there before retreating back up the stairs but it wasn’t for long.
I didn’t go all the way to the top but stopped to figure out how to get to the bottom and retrieve the box that Hobie wanted. I’ve been a country music lover since I was about 15 years old. Merle Haggard had just come out with the song “I am a Lonely Fugitive” that I really loved and had found myself singing when alone. For some reason it came to me to start humming it and to then head back down the stairs. I took my time and just as I got to the bottom I saw Jerene step out into the hall and grab the door handle. She stopped and looked right at me. I don’t remember exactly what was said or who said what but I managed to ask what was going on. She didn’t answer but tried to pull the door closed but I held it so she couldn’t. I remember her turning around and looking back into the room. Just as she did I saw Gina pulling a skirt up over her hips. At that point I was looking at two very embarrassed young women.
To be continued...
The skirts were Gina’s. She’d brought them in for Jerene to shorten them for her but when the keys went missing the skirts were on the counter and in the way so she’d put them in her personal drawer. On the fact that it was locked she said that with all the people looking around for the keys and it getting so late that she’d forgotten that she’d locked it. That was when I told her that we’d finally found the keys, mixed in with her things in the drawer. I told her that we’d had to pick the lock and that when we pulled all the clothes out we’d heard a metallic sound and found the keys in amongst her stuff in the bottom of the drawer. I was concentrating on her facial expression when I told her that and I wasn’t disappointed. She let out a very noticeable “OH!” and put her hand up to her mouth... and then, after a few seconds, she looked down into her lap.
I remember staring at her and, for the first time, feeling sorry for her. The only thing that she really did wrong was to not put the keys back where they belonged... and the bank had to assume some responsibility in that they’d allowed both keys to remain on the same key ring for so long without putting one in the locked key storage box along with all the other spare keys. I sat there looking at her, with her head still down, finally asking her if she learned anything from what had happened. When she looked up at me I could see what appeared to be tears forming in the corners of her eyes. She started to speak a couple of times and when she finally did said that she shouldn’t have been doing personal things (Gina’s skirts) during banking hours. She’d gotten distracted in trying to do Gina a favor. At that point I emphasized that when using the bank’s safe deposit key it had to go back to the assigned location after each and every use... no exceptions. She took a deep breath and nodded in agreement.
I allowed her to compose herself before excusing her. To try and ease the tension a little bit I asked her if there was anything new in her life. That perked her up a bit and she said she had a boyfriend. With the start of a smile on her face she described him a bit and then I told her to get to work. She stood up and, surprisingly, I saw the old Jerene reappear as the half smile and fluttering eyelashes returned. She started to walk away but then she stopped and returned, leaning over the front of my desk. “Did you go through ALL the things in my drawer?” I looked right at her and nodded affirmatively. She smiled and then added “But am wearing nylon now...” and turned and sort of strutted back towards her station. I knew I'd been "had".
I was actually mad... but there was nothing I could do at that point. When I looked at the $120 invoice on my desk it made me madder. I’d had the opportunity to put it on her but got soft hearted and fell for her contrite “act”. At the same time I knew that I had to be careful dealing with her because she could turn it back on me. Not a good situation.
Bret had handled the obnoxious safe deposit customer but had Bert with him to take some of the pressure off. After I calmed down I wrote up new procedures for handling the bank’s access key(s) for safe deposit boxes and distributed them to each and every teller. I spoke with all with the exception of Jerene. I knew if I said anything to her and as upset as I was with her that it wouldn’t be good. About mid afternoon Trish, (representing the Polish mafia) approached me to ask if there was any possibility for those who’d stayed late the previous day to leave early. I thought it was a good idea but ran the idea by Hobie, concerned that the employees from the second floor might take exception to it. J J was always “zinging” me about special attention that he perceived the tellers were getting. Hobie gave his OK and said he’d take care of J J. I knew he had never fully accepted J J and somewhat enjoyed knocking his ego back a peg.
All the tellers were “in proof” a little before 4:30pm and it didn’t take long for the first floor employees to disappear. I stayed around to work on the ads for the upcoming new account/gift program and Hobie was on the phone. It was nice to be able to concentrate on the project without interruptions from the public. I don’t know how long it was before Hobie called out to me. He was still on the phone and explained that he had the Chairman of the Board on the phone. He’d been the president prior to Bert. When he cleaned out his things from his desk when he was leaving he’d boxed some items up that he felt might be important to the bank. He wanted to know if Hobie knew where the box was. He didn’t. That was what Hobie wanted me for. I told him I pretty much knew where to locate it in the cellar and he dispatched me to get it.
At the bottom of the stairs to the cellar was the “break” room where there was a coffee machine, sink/stove/refrigerator combination, a three person sofa, two comfortable chairs and an old baked enamel table with six pull up chairs. Hank, the messenger/custodian would clean the room up at around 4pm, get the coffee machine ready for the next day and then turn out the lights. So, when halfway down the stairs, I wasn’t expecting to see light coming from the door which was partially open. I stopped and heard voices. Then I took some slow steps to the bottom and tried to peer in to see who was there without being seen. From where I stopped I could see about half the sofa and within seconds I saw Gina move into my line of sight. It took my breath away. She was looking the other way which was good. What had startled me was that she wasn’t wearing her skirt... or her slip. What I saw was a very trim young woman in a pair of light blue bikini panties. I got to see a bit of butt cheek but it was mostly a side view She still had her blouse on but I could see flesh above the waist elastic. It was such a surprise that I can’t even begin to estimate how long I stood there before retreating back up the stairs but it wasn’t for long.
I didn’t go all the way to the top but stopped to figure out how to get to the bottom and retrieve the box that Hobie wanted. I’ve been a country music lover since I was about 15 years old. Merle Haggard had just come out with the song “I am a Lonely Fugitive” that I really loved and had found myself singing when alone. For some reason it came to me to start humming it and to then head back down the stairs. I took my time and just as I got to the bottom I saw Jerene step out into the hall and grab the door handle. She stopped and looked right at me. I don’t remember exactly what was said or who said what but I managed to ask what was going on. She didn’t answer but tried to pull the door closed but I held it so she couldn’t. I remember her turning around and looking back into the room. Just as she did I saw Gina pulling a skirt up over her hips. At that point I was looking at two very embarrassed young women.
To be continued...
Friday, March 13, 2015
SURVIVING... Same ole, same ole (Part 129i)
SURVIVING... Same ole, same ole (Part 129i)
Just as I was about to leave, Ward, the owner of the company that cleaned the bank each night, walked in. He’d stop by at least once a week to check up on just how well his employees were doing but it was usually after I’d gone. He wanted to know why I was still there. After I explained about the missing keys he asked if I’d checked behind the metal cabinets that held the drawers. I’d never given that a thought so he went to Cara’s knee hole space, got on his hands and knees and with his hand reached in behind the cabinet and the fascia that was the front (lobby side) of the counter. He pulled out some scraps of paper, a few paper clips and a few coins. It was certainly a surprise to me. Ward offered to check behind all the cabinets but I said I’d help. While I was on the floor I pulled open the bottom drawers at each station to check one last time. We’d worked our way down to Jerene’s knee hole space and while Ward was checking behind the cabinet I tried to pull her bottom drawer open... and it didn’t come out. Tired, hungry and wanting to go home, that upset me. It was a rule that all drawers were to be left unlocked at night. Ward noticed my frustration and offered to open it. I remember looking at him and asking how. He laughed and proceeded to tell me that, among other things, he was a licensed locksmith. He went out to his truck and came right back with a small wooden case. In seconds he’d opened the drawer.
I looked down and saw it was filled to the top with what appeared to be clothes. I pulled the top item out and found it was a cotton skirt. I remember Ward standing there looking at me holding it up in front of myself and making a joking comment about how it didn’t look good on me. I put it on the counter and pulled the next item out... a kind of mustard/gold color skirt. I was now puzzled. As I pulled on the next item I thought I heard a metallic sound and before I got it all the way out Ward was reaching into the drawer. I watched him root around a bit and then pull out the key ring with the missing keys. We briefly talked about how they possibly had ended up there but he was now running late for his next stop. I thanked him for his efforts and I remember him shrugging his shoulders and saying it was all part of his job.
I was holding the keys in my hand and looking down into the drawer and wondering about why there had been three skirts stuffed into it. As I pondered the possibilities I saw something more than vaguely familiar... the always recognizable elastic waistband of a pair of Carter’s Spanky pants panties. They were mixed in with what appeared to be a scarf, gloves, sweater as well as a small pile of sanitary napkins and a sanitary panty with the plastic crotch. Seeing the Carter’s panties brought back the memory of my dealings with Jerene shortly after her hire. I’d seen a DP (downpants) on her and had recognized the elastic and label. I managed to get into a dialog with her about them. (See part 115h, i, j from Sept 2013) Because she was no naive I’d managed to get her into a conversation about them and to even try nylon panties. However, after the fact, because of that naivety and cluelessness I was worried that she’d mention something about it to other employees. So, in a stern conversation I’d made it clear to her that it was between just the two of us and that her failure in this regard could end up badly... for both of us. It had been over a year and, fortunately, it was like it had never happened. I’d made it a point not to get into casual conversations with her and kept any dealings with her on a professional level. But I knew I was going to have to talk with her about both the locked drawer and the misplaced keys. I also knew that once the conversation started she’d know I’d seen the contents of her drawer. I stood there wondering what her reaction would be knowing that I’d seen the panties. I stuffed the skirts back into the drawer, got my coat and headed home. There were a couple of reasons why I wasn’t looking forward to the next morning.
At home, I went into so much detail about what had happened that I was sure that Elle knew I couldn’t make that sort of thing up. One thing I remember about that conversation was that Elle expressed concern over what might happen to Jerene. I was too. The bank customers liked her but other than being friendly with Laura and, recently, with Gina, most of her co-workers were a bit put off by her. Bret and I’d long ago pegged her as an opportunist, trying to curry favor with any of the bank officers and primarily with Hobie. On the rare occasion that Bert, the president, came to her window she would fawn all over him and he seemed to eat it up. Her “offenses” were more annoying than anything. By the time I went to bed I figured I’d let what Jerene had to say dictate the results.
I was at the bank at 8am because the company that serviced the safe deposit boxes had indicated that they would be there between 8 and 9am. At about ten to nine Hank let the service man in. When told he didn’t have to drill out the locks he just smiled and promptly handed me an invoice for $120 dollars... the minimum fee (even back then) for a service call from the city to our area. As I looked at it I got the idea to show it to Jerene if for no other reason than to give her a scare. Jerene arrived as the service person was going out the door. I’d told Hank to tell her to come right to my desk and as she approached I could see that her ever present half smile was missing. I actually thought she looked a bit contrite. I had her sit down by my desk and then went and told Bret to be ready to escort our noisy “friend” (NOT) to his safe deposit box when he arrived.
In writing about this now, some 47 years after the fact, I’ll admit that I really thought I'd made it hard on Jerene. I had her sit there, on the edge of the chair, for about 10 minutes while I busied myself getting things from my desk and perusing them, never looking at her once. Finally, I held up the keys and dangled them in front of her. Her eyes followed the keys, swinging back and forth, for probably a minute. Then in about as meek a voice that I’d ever heard from her, asked where they were found. I sat there, unspeaking, for at least a minute before telling her that they were in her personal drawer. I drew it out as slowly as I could. And then, very harshly, demanded to know why it had been locked. She looked down and I think she said “I’m sorry”. She was speaking into her lap so it was hard to hear her. I only said one word... “Explain!”
To be continued...
Just as I was about to leave, Ward, the owner of the company that cleaned the bank each night, walked in. He’d stop by at least once a week to check up on just how well his employees were doing but it was usually after I’d gone. He wanted to know why I was still there. After I explained about the missing keys he asked if I’d checked behind the metal cabinets that held the drawers. I’d never given that a thought so he went to Cara’s knee hole space, got on his hands and knees and with his hand reached in behind the cabinet and the fascia that was the front (lobby side) of the counter. He pulled out some scraps of paper, a few paper clips and a few coins. It was certainly a surprise to me. Ward offered to check behind all the cabinets but I said I’d help. While I was on the floor I pulled open the bottom drawers at each station to check one last time. We’d worked our way down to Jerene’s knee hole space and while Ward was checking behind the cabinet I tried to pull her bottom drawer open... and it didn’t come out. Tired, hungry and wanting to go home, that upset me. It was a rule that all drawers were to be left unlocked at night. Ward noticed my frustration and offered to open it. I remember looking at him and asking how. He laughed and proceeded to tell me that, among other things, he was a licensed locksmith. He went out to his truck and came right back with a small wooden case. In seconds he’d opened the drawer.
I looked down and saw it was filled to the top with what appeared to be clothes. I pulled the top item out and found it was a cotton skirt. I remember Ward standing there looking at me holding it up in front of myself and making a joking comment about how it didn’t look good on me. I put it on the counter and pulled the next item out... a kind of mustard/gold color skirt. I was now puzzled. As I pulled on the next item I thought I heard a metallic sound and before I got it all the way out Ward was reaching into the drawer. I watched him root around a bit and then pull out the key ring with the missing keys. We briefly talked about how they possibly had ended up there but he was now running late for his next stop. I thanked him for his efforts and I remember him shrugging his shoulders and saying it was all part of his job.
I was holding the keys in my hand and looking down into the drawer and wondering about why there had been three skirts stuffed into it. As I pondered the possibilities I saw something more than vaguely familiar... the always recognizable elastic waistband of a pair of Carter’s Spanky pants panties. They were mixed in with what appeared to be a scarf, gloves, sweater as well as a small pile of sanitary napkins and a sanitary panty with the plastic crotch. Seeing the Carter’s panties brought back the memory of my dealings with Jerene shortly after her hire. I’d seen a DP (downpants) on her and had recognized the elastic and label. I managed to get into a dialog with her about them. (See part 115h, i, j from Sept 2013) Because she was no naive I’d managed to get her into a conversation about them and to even try nylon panties. However, after the fact, because of that naivety and cluelessness I was worried that she’d mention something about it to other employees. So, in a stern conversation I’d made it clear to her that it was between just the two of us and that her failure in this regard could end up badly... for both of us. It had been over a year and, fortunately, it was like it had never happened. I’d made it a point not to get into casual conversations with her and kept any dealings with her on a professional level. But I knew I was going to have to talk with her about both the locked drawer and the misplaced keys. I also knew that once the conversation started she’d know I’d seen the contents of her drawer. I stood there wondering what her reaction would be knowing that I’d seen the panties. I stuffed the skirts back into the drawer, got my coat and headed home. There were a couple of reasons why I wasn’t looking forward to the next morning.
At home, I went into so much detail about what had happened that I was sure that Elle knew I couldn’t make that sort of thing up. One thing I remember about that conversation was that Elle expressed concern over what might happen to Jerene. I was too. The bank customers liked her but other than being friendly with Laura and, recently, with Gina, most of her co-workers were a bit put off by her. Bret and I’d long ago pegged her as an opportunist, trying to curry favor with any of the bank officers and primarily with Hobie. On the rare occasion that Bert, the president, came to her window she would fawn all over him and he seemed to eat it up. Her “offenses” were more annoying than anything. By the time I went to bed I figured I’d let what Jerene had to say dictate the results.
I was at the bank at 8am because the company that serviced the safe deposit boxes had indicated that they would be there between 8 and 9am. At about ten to nine Hank let the service man in. When told he didn’t have to drill out the locks he just smiled and promptly handed me an invoice for $120 dollars... the minimum fee (even back then) for a service call from the city to our area. As I looked at it I got the idea to show it to Jerene if for no other reason than to give her a scare. Jerene arrived as the service person was going out the door. I’d told Hank to tell her to come right to my desk and as she approached I could see that her ever present half smile was missing. I actually thought she looked a bit contrite. I had her sit down by my desk and then went and told Bret to be ready to escort our noisy “friend” (NOT) to his safe deposit box when he arrived.
In writing about this now, some 47 years after the fact, I’ll admit that I really thought I'd made it hard on Jerene. I had her sit there, on the edge of the chair, for about 10 minutes while I busied myself getting things from my desk and perusing them, never looking at her once. Finally, I held up the keys and dangled them in front of her. Her eyes followed the keys, swinging back and forth, for probably a minute. Then in about as meek a voice that I’d ever heard from her, asked where they were found. I sat there, unspeaking, for at least a minute before telling her that they were in her personal drawer. I drew it out as slowly as I could. And then, very harshly, demanded to know why it had been locked. She looked down and I think she said “I’m sorry”. She was speaking into her lap so it was hard to hear her. I only said one word... “Explain!”
To be continued...
Tuesday, March 10, 2015
SURVIVING... Same ole, same ole (Part 129h)
SURVIVING... Same ole, same ole (Part 129h)
Elle was awake and waiting for me when I got back. Still half asleep when I left she didn’t know exactly where I’d gone. After I told her she was upset and told me should’ve made sure she knew where I was going. I told her of my trek to Sabrina's attic and that I’d seen nothing untoward or that could’ve made noise. That’s when Elle reminded me of our first night in the house and how we’d heard a moaning sound and thought the house was haunted. We found out that it was a sick cow in the pasture across the road we were both relieved. Talking about it got us a laugh and eased the tension.
I couldn’t get back to sleep... too many things on my mind and not the least of which was Sabrina and wondering just how much of a pest she was going to be. Of course there was the racecar and work that managed to wend their way into my thoughts. But there was one other matter that was pressing... finding a new minister for our church. There had been a number of them that had shown an interest and had come to be the guest preacher but the vestry (governing body) wasn’t impressed. The one for that Sunday was being ”pushed“ by the diocesan (bishop for our area). That, in itself, raised a red flag for me. As I’ve written in prior posts, my preference was for the early (8am) service but with the guest minister preaching and the vestry observing him I knew I had to be there.
On the surface, the man looked OK but his sermon seemed a little long winded. After the service he and his family (wife and two daughters) visited with the parishioners in the undercroft. The vote on weather to offer him the position wouldn’t come up until Tuesday so I made an early exit. I was looking forward to going right home but Elle had another idea. While I was showering her mother had called and suggested we come to her parents house for an old fashioned Sunday dinner. I’d told Elle that I was committed to family for the day so there was no way to get out of that.
One word describes that day... BORING! I was actually looking forward to going to work. There was nothing out of the ordinary coming up which was nice. I made it through Monday and Tuesday without any problems but Wednesday provided me with the biggest crisis I’d experienced since I was hired.
+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
Background... The bank building had been constructed in 1924 and, at the time, safety deposit boxes were not installed. That didn’t happen until after WWII when two of the bank’s Trustee’s, who happened to attorneys, convinced the Board to install some primarily for themselves and for their clients. At first there was no fee (rent) charged but when the bank's outside auditors discovered it the bank started charging and there were complaints. So... the two attorneys agreed to pay the rental for their clients. (Read between the lines... they were very influential, both politically and financially) I knew nothing about the ”arrangement“ when I was hired and when learned about it I tried to avoid getting involved. For a box holder to get access to their box they had to go to a teller who then had to retrieve a special key that had to be inserted into the door along with the box holders key to open it. (If you’re thinking it’s a lousy system, you’re right!) I found it very disruptive to lobby traffic as it took an active teller away from her window until the box holder was through the use of the box.
++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
On that day one of the box holders showed up to get into his box. This particular individual was a well known figure in local politics and... one of the staff’s least favorite customers. Loud, demanding and rude are the things I remember most about him. Bombastic would probably suffice as a description. In any case he went to Gina’s window. It’s always been my thought that the man would try to find the newest teller so he could show off how self important he was. Gina had one thing going for her... a very patient resolve. She got the man to fill out the access card and went to get the bank’s special key(s)... only they wasn’t where they were supposed to be. (NOTE: there were actually two keys, exactly the same, but for some unknown reason they had always been kept on the same key ring) She went on down the teller line asking if anyone had the keys. By the time she’d gone from one end and back the box holder was spouting off to the lobby customers about how badly he was being treated. Bret, who was coming down the stairs at the time, went up to him to try and calm him down. I was standing by the gate into the lobby just about to get involved. Cara, the teller who was closest to me, briefed me on the key situation. Then I went out into the lobby to assist Bret and was greeted by a loud pronouncement that the bank had gone ”downhill” since Bret and I had been hired. The man was red in the face and I was hot under the collar. He’d been loud enough for the upstairs employees to hear him and one told Bert, the president. When he stepped from the elevator the man changed his “tune”. Bert had him calmed down fairly quickly and then turned and asked Bret what had happened. Armed with that information Bert turned back to him, chatted a bit, and soon the man walked out without saying (shouting) another word.
Still in the lobby, Bert told the two of us to do a thorough search for the keys and, as a precaution, to call the box manufacturer and have a service man there first thing the next morning to drill out the locks to the man's box. We were warned that he'd be there promptly at 9am. With a little time to think about the whole situation and without the “noise” of the loudmouth we went to find who the last person to access a safe deposit box and found that Jerene had been the teller. Bret took her to his desk to question her while I went and concentrated on searching around her area. Just to be thorough I had Liz, the auditor, and Laura, her assistant, go through all the cash boxes, removing everything, just to make sure the keys hadn’t been swept into one of them by accident. When I didn't find the keys in Jerene's area I started looking through the other drawers at each teller station.
Each station had four drawers with the top one being for the cash box. The top drawers all had quality locks on them with steel plates around them for protection. The next two were to hold files and projects that the tellers would work on during slack times and didn’t have locks. The bottom drawer was the largest and was for the personal use of the teller. They had what I called a “common” lock. By the time we’d gone through all the drawers it was after 6pm. Everyone was upset and tired so were told to go home but to leave all their drawers unlocked. I still had some things to clean off my desk so I called Elle and explained why I was late. But, because it was after 6pm I wasn’t so sure she was “buying” my excuse.
To be continued...
Elle was awake and waiting for me when I got back. Still half asleep when I left she didn’t know exactly where I’d gone. After I told her she was upset and told me should’ve made sure she knew where I was going. I told her of my trek to Sabrina's attic and that I’d seen nothing untoward or that could’ve made noise. That’s when Elle reminded me of our first night in the house and how we’d heard a moaning sound and thought the house was haunted. We found out that it was a sick cow in the pasture across the road we were both relieved. Talking about it got us a laugh and eased the tension.
I couldn’t get back to sleep... too many things on my mind and not the least of which was Sabrina and wondering just how much of a pest she was going to be. Of course there was the racecar and work that managed to wend their way into my thoughts. But there was one other matter that was pressing... finding a new minister for our church. There had been a number of them that had shown an interest and had come to be the guest preacher but the vestry (governing body) wasn’t impressed. The one for that Sunday was being ”pushed“ by the diocesan (bishop for our area). That, in itself, raised a red flag for me. As I’ve written in prior posts, my preference was for the early (8am) service but with the guest minister preaching and the vestry observing him I knew I had to be there.
On the surface, the man looked OK but his sermon seemed a little long winded. After the service he and his family (wife and two daughters) visited with the parishioners in the undercroft. The vote on weather to offer him the position wouldn’t come up until Tuesday so I made an early exit. I was looking forward to going right home but Elle had another idea. While I was showering her mother had called and suggested we come to her parents house for an old fashioned Sunday dinner. I’d told Elle that I was committed to family for the day so there was no way to get out of that.
One word describes that day... BORING! I was actually looking forward to going to work. There was nothing out of the ordinary coming up which was nice. I made it through Monday and Tuesday without any problems but Wednesday provided me with the biggest crisis I’d experienced since I was hired.
+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
Background... The bank building had been constructed in 1924 and, at the time, safety deposit boxes were not installed. That didn’t happen until after WWII when two of the bank’s Trustee’s, who happened to attorneys, convinced the Board to install some primarily for themselves and for their clients. At first there was no fee (rent) charged but when the bank's outside auditors discovered it the bank started charging and there were complaints. So... the two attorneys agreed to pay the rental for their clients. (Read between the lines... they were very influential, both politically and financially) I knew nothing about the ”arrangement“ when I was hired and when learned about it I tried to avoid getting involved. For a box holder to get access to their box they had to go to a teller who then had to retrieve a special key that had to be inserted into the door along with the box holders key to open it. (If you’re thinking it’s a lousy system, you’re right!) I found it very disruptive to lobby traffic as it took an active teller away from her window until the box holder was through the use of the box.
++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
On that day one of the box holders showed up to get into his box. This particular individual was a well known figure in local politics and... one of the staff’s least favorite customers. Loud, demanding and rude are the things I remember most about him. Bombastic would probably suffice as a description. In any case he went to Gina’s window. It’s always been my thought that the man would try to find the newest teller so he could show off how self important he was. Gina had one thing going for her... a very patient resolve. She got the man to fill out the access card and went to get the bank’s special key(s)... only they wasn’t where they were supposed to be. (NOTE: there were actually two keys, exactly the same, but for some unknown reason they had always been kept on the same key ring) She went on down the teller line asking if anyone had the keys. By the time she’d gone from one end and back the box holder was spouting off to the lobby customers about how badly he was being treated. Bret, who was coming down the stairs at the time, went up to him to try and calm him down. I was standing by the gate into the lobby just about to get involved. Cara, the teller who was closest to me, briefed me on the key situation. Then I went out into the lobby to assist Bret and was greeted by a loud pronouncement that the bank had gone ”downhill” since Bret and I had been hired. The man was red in the face and I was hot under the collar. He’d been loud enough for the upstairs employees to hear him and one told Bert, the president. When he stepped from the elevator the man changed his “tune”. Bert had him calmed down fairly quickly and then turned and asked Bret what had happened. Armed with that information Bert turned back to him, chatted a bit, and soon the man walked out without saying (shouting) another word.
Still in the lobby, Bert told the two of us to do a thorough search for the keys and, as a precaution, to call the box manufacturer and have a service man there first thing the next morning to drill out the locks to the man's box. We were warned that he'd be there promptly at 9am. With a little time to think about the whole situation and without the “noise” of the loudmouth we went to find who the last person to access a safe deposit box and found that Jerene had been the teller. Bret took her to his desk to question her while I went and concentrated on searching around her area. Just to be thorough I had Liz, the auditor, and Laura, her assistant, go through all the cash boxes, removing everything, just to make sure the keys hadn’t been swept into one of them by accident. When I didn't find the keys in Jerene's area I started looking through the other drawers at each teller station.
Each station had four drawers with the top one being for the cash box. The top drawers all had quality locks on them with steel plates around them for protection. The next two were to hold files and projects that the tellers would work on during slack times and didn’t have locks. The bottom drawer was the largest and was for the personal use of the teller. They had what I called a “common” lock. By the time we’d gone through all the drawers it was after 6pm. Everyone was upset and tired so were told to go home but to leave all their drawers unlocked. I still had some things to clean off my desk so I called Elle and explained why I was late. But, because it was after 6pm I wasn’t so sure she was “buying” my excuse.
To be continued...
Sunday, March 08, 2015
SURVIVING... Same ole, same ole (Part 129g)
SURVIVING... Same ole, same ole (Part 129g)
By the time I got to the barn it was around 1pm and, for the first time since ”B“ and I had started working on the car, all the ”unmarrieds“, Pete, Martin and Tom were there. The new tires that ”B“ had bought were stacked next to the car. I’d told ”B“ what needed to be accomplished but they were all just standing around. I was a bit upset because I didn’t feel that it was up to me to orchestrate what needed to be done. When I asked why they hadn’t started taking the wheels off the car they just stood there with a sheepish look on their faces. Since mowing the lawn is a mindless task I’d been thinking about the best way to go about dismounting the old tires and mounting the new ones. We didn’t have access to an air pump so I'd ended up calling Cliffy, my racer friend, to ask if we could bring the tires to his father’s service garage to do it. When he’d said ”yes“ I know he didn’t expect to see five guys walk in.
I was the only one of us to have ever done it so, as the other guys struggled with the process, Cliffy stood back and watched with wry smile on his face. After a while he felt sorry for them and, thankfully, jumped in to help them or we would’ve been there all afternoon. While we were there it came to me that we had no rims for spare tires. I asked Cliffy if he still had any that might fit our car (since ”B“ had bought it from his father) but he said he didn’t. Up to then I thought I’d covered everything but it was now obvious that I hadn’t.
When we got back to the barn and I saw the car up on blocks and without wheels it dawned on me that I should probably adjust the brakes. The ”unmarrieds“ were bored by then and decided to leave. Without their help I had ”B“ get in the car and we ”played“ with the brakes until I saw the time. I’d wanted to bring the car home with me to paint the numbers but it was too late for that... if I wanted Elle to be civil towards me. On the way home I wondered just how much help the ”unmarrieds“ were going to be.
I arrived home within my ”window“ (by 6pm) so I got to eat with the kids. That was something that was important to Elle. Since I was gone so much of the time she wanted me to at least eat with them. I could tell she was clearly not happy with me by the lack of conversation. In a way it seemed somewhat funny that she'd been so ”friendly“ just two nights before. I drew her out a bit and found that Aurelia had called and invited us to her house that night but since there was no way to contact me she had to turn the offer down. To ease the tension I promised that I’d go to church the next day and spend the day with the family. The offer accomplished a bit but not enough for me to even think of ”panty play“.
I don’t know what time it was when the phone rang. Elle and I were both fast asleep and when I picked up the receiver and I was trying to shake the cobwebs out of my head. I knew it was the voice of a female but I couldn’t recognize it. I think I asked who it was a number of times but the person was speaking so fast and panicky I couldn’t make it out. Finally I heard ”Next door! Next door!“ If anyone could’ve seen my eyes about then they would’ve seen them rolled up into my head. I don’t remember what I said but I did get up and dressed. I had a battery operated spot light on the shelf of the downstairs coat closet, grabbed it and headed for the hedge.
Once through it I could see all the lights were lit on the second floor. I found the kitchen door locked so started pounding on it. I don’t remember how long it was before I saw a hall light and then the kitchen light followed. I fully expected to see a ”gloppy“ face walking towards me but it wasn’t. Even from a distance and with somewhat poor lighting I saw a fairly attractive young woman with short dark hair. She was wearing a very sheer nightie that went to just above her knees but I was focused on the look of panic on her face. Her eyes were somewhat ”bugged out“ as she rushed to the door. When she opened it she was clearly not concerned about her appearance. When I’d tried to understand her on the phone I’d forgotten about her lisp but now, face to face, it was almost like I was listening to a child. I actually had to grab her by her arms and shake at her to calm her down. It took a bit of time but whatever it was that had her frightened was in the attic.
I will admit that I’ve never been a ”macho man“ and be the first to charge into ”battle“, but, by the same token, I’ve never run away either. In situations like that it’s amazing how imagination can override common sense. I didn’t know what words to say to calm her down so kept my mouth shut. There was a fire extinguisher on the counter and as I headed for the stairs I grabbed it. Even though this house was different than mine there was one common thread... the stairs. I got to the door for the attic, hesitated, and then pulled it open. I’d built a trap door at the top of the stairs in my house but when I pointed the light up the stairs I could see the roof rafters. I stood at the bottom and listened, not hearing anything. I didn’t really want to go on up but I did until my eyes were even with the attic floor. I used the light to survey the whole area and there was absolutely nothing to be seen. Emboldened by that I went all the way up and walked the whole area. There was nothing there... not even any residual trash. It was then that I realized that I’d never asked what it was that Sabrina had heard. I’d gone up there blindly, not having a clue as to what I might be looking for. By the time I got back down to the second floor my breathing had become somewhat normal.
Back in the kitchen, Sabrina had gathered a coat to drape over her shoulders grasping it up by the collar. The look of panic was somewhat subdued but the lisp was very pronounced. When she started towards me she let the coat go. I think she was going to give me a hug but I interrupted her thought by telling her that I couldn’t find anything in the attic. That stopped her forward motion. She was maybe four feet away and as I looked at her with the coat now open I could see through her gown and could see the areola of her breasts... and they and her breasts were fairly large. I actually lost my train of thought and when she spoke it sort of stopped me from staring at them. I’m sure she never noticed as she started babbling about the ”noises“ in the attic. I couldn’t get anything more than that out of her. I tried assuring her that there wasn’t anything to be afraid of and as I did I looked at the clock on the wall... 4:30am. I shook my head and headed for the door. I don’t think I got a ”Thank you“ or anything from her. Walking back into my kitchen I realized I could’ve had a peek into Selina’s bedroom when I’d been upstairs. Another opportunity lost! But, more importantly, my negative thoughts about her from our previous encounter were coming true... and that wasn't a good thing.
To be continued...
By the time I got to the barn it was around 1pm and, for the first time since ”B“ and I had started working on the car, all the ”unmarrieds“, Pete, Martin and Tom were there. The new tires that ”B“ had bought were stacked next to the car. I’d told ”B“ what needed to be accomplished but they were all just standing around. I was a bit upset because I didn’t feel that it was up to me to orchestrate what needed to be done. When I asked why they hadn’t started taking the wheels off the car they just stood there with a sheepish look on their faces. Since mowing the lawn is a mindless task I’d been thinking about the best way to go about dismounting the old tires and mounting the new ones. We didn’t have access to an air pump so I'd ended up calling Cliffy, my racer friend, to ask if we could bring the tires to his father’s service garage to do it. When he’d said ”yes“ I know he didn’t expect to see five guys walk in.
I was the only one of us to have ever done it so, as the other guys struggled with the process, Cliffy stood back and watched with wry smile on his face. After a while he felt sorry for them and, thankfully, jumped in to help them or we would’ve been there all afternoon. While we were there it came to me that we had no rims for spare tires. I asked Cliffy if he still had any that might fit our car (since ”B“ had bought it from his father) but he said he didn’t. Up to then I thought I’d covered everything but it was now obvious that I hadn’t.
When we got back to the barn and I saw the car up on blocks and without wheels it dawned on me that I should probably adjust the brakes. The ”unmarrieds“ were bored by then and decided to leave. Without their help I had ”B“ get in the car and we ”played“ with the brakes until I saw the time. I’d wanted to bring the car home with me to paint the numbers but it was too late for that... if I wanted Elle to be civil towards me. On the way home I wondered just how much help the ”unmarrieds“ were going to be.
I arrived home within my ”window“ (by 6pm) so I got to eat with the kids. That was something that was important to Elle. Since I was gone so much of the time she wanted me to at least eat with them. I could tell she was clearly not happy with me by the lack of conversation. In a way it seemed somewhat funny that she'd been so ”friendly“ just two nights before. I drew her out a bit and found that Aurelia had called and invited us to her house that night but since there was no way to contact me she had to turn the offer down. To ease the tension I promised that I’d go to church the next day and spend the day with the family. The offer accomplished a bit but not enough for me to even think of ”panty play“.
I don’t know what time it was when the phone rang. Elle and I were both fast asleep and when I picked up the receiver and I was trying to shake the cobwebs out of my head. I knew it was the voice of a female but I couldn’t recognize it. I think I asked who it was a number of times but the person was speaking so fast and panicky I couldn’t make it out. Finally I heard ”Next door! Next door!“ If anyone could’ve seen my eyes about then they would’ve seen them rolled up into my head. I don’t remember what I said but I did get up and dressed. I had a battery operated spot light on the shelf of the downstairs coat closet, grabbed it and headed for the hedge.
Once through it I could see all the lights were lit on the second floor. I found the kitchen door locked so started pounding on it. I don’t remember how long it was before I saw a hall light and then the kitchen light followed. I fully expected to see a ”gloppy“ face walking towards me but it wasn’t. Even from a distance and with somewhat poor lighting I saw a fairly attractive young woman with short dark hair. She was wearing a very sheer nightie that went to just above her knees but I was focused on the look of panic on her face. Her eyes were somewhat ”bugged out“ as she rushed to the door. When she opened it she was clearly not concerned about her appearance. When I’d tried to understand her on the phone I’d forgotten about her lisp but now, face to face, it was almost like I was listening to a child. I actually had to grab her by her arms and shake at her to calm her down. It took a bit of time but whatever it was that had her frightened was in the attic.
I will admit that I’ve never been a ”macho man“ and be the first to charge into ”battle“, but, by the same token, I’ve never run away either. In situations like that it’s amazing how imagination can override common sense. I didn’t know what words to say to calm her down so kept my mouth shut. There was a fire extinguisher on the counter and as I headed for the stairs I grabbed it. Even though this house was different than mine there was one common thread... the stairs. I got to the door for the attic, hesitated, and then pulled it open. I’d built a trap door at the top of the stairs in my house but when I pointed the light up the stairs I could see the roof rafters. I stood at the bottom and listened, not hearing anything. I didn’t really want to go on up but I did until my eyes were even with the attic floor. I used the light to survey the whole area and there was absolutely nothing to be seen. Emboldened by that I went all the way up and walked the whole area. There was nothing there... not even any residual trash. It was then that I realized that I’d never asked what it was that Sabrina had heard. I’d gone up there blindly, not having a clue as to what I might be looking for. By the time I got back down to the second floor my breathing had become somewhat normal.
Back in the kitchen, Sabrina had gathered a coat to drape over her shoulders grasping it up by the collar. The look of panic was somewhat subdued but the lisp was very pronounced. When she started towards me she let the coat go. I think she was going to give me a hug but I interrupted her thought by telling her that I couldn’t find anything in the attic. That stopped her forward motion. She was maybe four feet away and as I looked at her with the coat now open I could see through her gown and could see the areola of her breasts... and they and her breasts were fairly large. I actually lost my train of thought and when she spoke it sort of stopped me from staring at them. I’m sure she never noticed as she started babbling about the ”noises“ in the attic. I couldn’t get anything more than that out of her. I tried assuring her that there wasn’t anything to be afraid of and as I did I looked at the clock on the wall... 4:30am. I shook my head and headed for the door. I don’t think I got a ”Thank you“ or anything from her. Walking back into my kitchen I realized I could’ve had a peek into Selina’s bedroom when I’d been upstairs. Another opportunity lost! But, more importantly, my negative thoughts about her from our previous encounter were coming true... and that wasn't a good thing.
To be continued...
Friday, March 06, 2015
SURVIVING... Same ole, same, ole (Part 129f)
SURVIVING... Same ole, same ole (Part 129f)
It took some time to get much more out of her than what she’d told Elle. One interesting thing that came out was that her real name was Lisa and that Sabrina was her “pen name” for writing. Fortunately, Kaye didn’t get too restless which allowed me some time to draw her out. I’d pretty much figured her to be a spoiled rich kid and she confirmed it, in spades. She was 26 years old and this was the first time she didn’t have a maid to wait on her. The colored lady who I’d met was actually her parents live in housekeeper. When she graduated from college her mother had gotten her a job as a proofreader at a large publishing house in the city and that’s what piqued her interest in writing (or so she claimed... I guessed it was something that didn’t need any skill). Her father owned a large construction firm and did most of his work in or near the city. Speaking of the city... her parents house was in the suburbs but they had an apartment in the city. The apartment was for when her mother went into the city for shopping or the theatre so she didn’t have to fight the “mob” in getting back home. Hearing that, I just shook my head. She told me that she’d lived in the apartment while she was working in the city and seemed proud of the fact that the maid that worked there didn’t sleep there.
One thing I was curious about was just how her father ended up buying Celia’s house. When she told me that her father had two people on his payroll who just went looking for foreclosed properties or, in the case of this house, were being sold at a tax sale. Then he’d fix them up and sell them. (NOTE: Today, that’s known as “flipping” but back then the process hadn’t been given a name) There was more but I’ve spent enough time on her. Once the washing cycle was completed without any leaks I told her I had to get going. While still there I suggested that she load the washer so she could get a feel for just how much should go in it. I did get a "thanks" but I had the feeling that it was made somewhat grudgingly. As Kaye and I made our way through the hedge to get back home I had the feeling that I’d be back and probably sooner than later.
The expected rain had started which, with the wind, made for a miserable day. Kaye was just thrilled to play with the older girl’s things down in the basement and that gave me time to get a lot of work done on the sign for Bob. As the afternoon wore on I started getting anxious for Elle to get home. I was expecting/hoping for a “reward” from her in more than one way for stepping in to take care of Kaye. My plan was for her to let me join her while she changed her clothes from school. That usually consisted of getting out of her damp “dribble panties” and putting on two pair of the nylon satin panties that I favored. A perfect scenario would be for her to pee through the dribble panties while on the toilet with my hand between her legs followed by a picture. However, fantasies like that seldom came to fruition and I was willing to get what I could.
When the older girls got home from school they were surprised to see me. I’d tried to pick up the basement so they wouldn’t know Kaye had been playing in and with their stuff. After a snack they headed downstairs. It was readily obvious to me that I’d not done a good job as I heard both of them yelling. They came running up the stairs calling Kaye’s name, and not in a happy sort of way. I was in the process of mediating the dispute when Elle appeared. She was early and I was happy about it for more than one reason. I explained the situation and she decided that both the older girls should get books and go to the living room and read. I remember looking at Kaye and she had a bit of a smile on her face... but not for long. When Elle saw it she assigned the same fate to her but in a different room. With that problem out of the way she turned to me and after a nice hug and kiss we headed upstairs.
Lovemaking was reserved for when the girls were in bed so any thoughts I had about my “reward” going that far were minimal, at best. When I followed her into the bathroom and closed the door she didn’t protest at all. She slipped off the sanitary panties and sat down on the toilet. As she “relaxed” I began rubbing. An attempt to get inside the leg elastic resulted in my hand being removed completely. I think I told her that I shouldn’t be blamed for trying and at least got a smile. She then removed the wet panties, washed up a bit and, like a puppy, I followed her into our bedroom. I’d had the presence of mind to have the camera upstairs and in the cabinet. She allowed me to pick out the panties from her drawer and as I did I thought about Sabrina and the Carters panties I’d seen in her wash... but not for long. Elle had stepped into the first pair before I pulled out the camera. I got the usual “look” from her but she didn’t say anything and she didn’t slow down. I was afraid she’d change her mind so just snapped as she pulled the second pair up. I wasn’t sure it would come out because the Polaroid camera wasn’t all that forgiving with motion. However, when I pulled it from the camera I was somewhat pleased.
After supper I told her of my meeting with Sabrina. I
described her as “clueless” and Elle agreed. She thought the bit about
the white “glop” was funny and offered up that it was going to be an
interesting summer. I had to agree. I also wondered how long it would be
before we heard from her again. Later, going into the den to watch TV I
realized I still had no idea of what she actually looked like.
The bad weather continued into the next day. Nothing of import had happened at work and, happily, the day was the same. “B” called me at the bank before I left to tell me he’d gotten the tires for the racecar. That was a the one big “project” left to go before the practice session and the plan was to mount the new tires on Saturday. The only “hitch” I could foresee was that I absolutely had to mow the lawn. It should’ve been mowed earlier in the week but I’d devoted my time to painting the racecar. The warm weather followed by rain had sent the grass into a major growth spurt.
With Elle teaching full time it left only the weekend for her to get all the household chores done and that included food shopping. Saturday morning it was obvious we were on different “wave lengths“. I was bent of mowing the lawn and she wanted me to watch the kids, along with a neighbor friend of Anne’s, so she could get the shopping done without distractions. The sun was out but it was a bit cool. I, reluctantly, agreed provided that they play outside where I could monitor them. I mowed around the playhouse first so I wouldn’t bother them and just about the time I finished that area Elle was headed out. The only ”rule“ for the girls was that they not go in the house without me.
As far as I could tell they played nicely. When I finished with the mowing I decided to rearrange the garage so I could bring the racecar home to paint the numbers and sponsor’s name on it. There wasn’t enough light at the barn and this way I’d make Elle happy by being around. I started to get worried when the noon hour was approaching and still no Elle. As I went out to check on the the kids I saw Anne’s friend sort of walking funny. Jean, when she saw me, ran over and announced that Dede had tinkled. Elle and I called Jean "grandma" as she had a tendency to mind everybody’s business. However, I’d noticed, on my own, her strange gait so I took a closer look. There was no doubt that her pants were wet to her ankles but it wasn’t slowing her down. I wondered what I was supposed to do. However, at that point the station wagon was headed up the driveway and I was ”saved“.
To be continued...
It took some time to get much more out of her than what she’d told Elle. One interesting thing that came out was that her real name was Lisa and that Sabrina was her “pen name” for writing. Fortunately, Kaye didn’t get too restless which allowed me some time to draw her out. I’d pretty much figured her to be a spoiled rich kid and she confirmed it, in spades. She was 26 years old and this was the first time she didn’t have a maid to wait on her. The colored lady who I’d met was actually her parents live in housekeeper. When she graduated from college her mother had gotten her a job as a proofreader at a large publishing house in the city and that’s what piqued her interest in writing (or so she claimed... I guessed it was something that didn’t need any skill). Her father owned a large construction firm and did most of his work in or near the city. Speaking of the city... her parents house was in the suburbs but they had an apartment in the city. The apartment was for when her mother went into the city for shopping or the theatre so she didn’t have to fight the “mob” in getting back home. Hearing that, I just shook my head. She told me that she’d lived in the apartment while she was working in the city and seemed proud of the fact that the maid that worked there didn’t sleep there.
One thing I was curious about was just how her father ended up buying Celia’s house. When she told me that her father had two people on his payroll who just went looking for foreclosed properties or, in the case of this house, were being sold at a tax sale. Then he’d fix them up and sell them. (NOTE: Today, that’s known as “flipping” but back then the process hadn’t been given a name) There was more but I’ve spent enough time on her. Once the washing cycle was completed without any leaks I told her I had to get going. While still there I suggested that she load the washer so she could get a feel for just how much should go in it. I did get a "thanks" but I had the feeling that it was made somewhat grudgingly. As Kaye and I made our way through the hedge to get back home I had the feeling that I’d be back and probably sooner than later.
The expected rain had started which, with the wind, made for a miserable day. Kaye was just thrilled to play with the older girl’s things down in the basement and that gave me time to get a lot of work done on the sign for Bob. As the afternoon wore on I started getting anxious for Elle to get home. I was expecting/hoping for a “reward” from her in more than one way for stepping in to take care of Kaye. My plan was for her to let me join her while she changed her clothes from school. That usually consisted of getting out of her damp “dribble panties” and putting on two pair of the nylon satin panties that I favored. A perfect scenario would be for her to pee through the dribble panties while on the toilet with my hand between her legs followed by a picture. However, fantasies like that seldom came to fruition and I was willing to get what I could.
When the older girls got home from school they were surprised to see me. I’d tried to pick up the basement so they wouldn’t know Kaye had been playing in and with their stuff. After a snack they headed downstairs. It was readily obvious to me that I’d not done a good job as I heard both of them yelling. They came running up the stairs calling Kaye’s name, and not in a happy sort of way. I was in the process of mediating the dispute when Elle appeared. She was early and I was happy about it for more than one reason. I explained the situation and she decided that both the older girls should get books and go to the living room and read. I remember looking at Kaye and she had a bit of a smile on her face... but not for long. When Elle saw it she assigned the same fate to her but in a different room. With that problem out of the way she turned to me and after a nice hug and kiss we headed upstairs.
Lovemaking was reserved for when the girls were in bed so any thoughts I had about my “reward” going that far were minimal, at best. When I followed her into the bathroom and closed the door she didn’t protest at all. She slipped off the sanitary panties and sat down on the toilet. As she “relaxed” I began rubbing. An attempt to get inside the leg elastic resulted in my hand being removed completely. I think I told her that I shouldn’t be blamed for trying and at least got a smile. She then removed the wet panties, washed up a bit and, like a puppy, I followed her into our bedroom. I’d had the presence of mind to have the camera upstairs and in the cabinet. She allowed me to pick out the panties from her drawer and as I did I thought about Sabrina and the Carters panties I’d seen in her wash... but not for long. Elle had stepped into the first pair before I pulled out the camera. I got the usual “look” from her but she didn’t say anything and she didn’t slow down. I was afraid she’d change her mind so just snapped as she pulled the second pair up. I wasn’t sure it would come out because the Polaroid camera wasn’t all that forgiving with motion. However, when I pulled it from the camera I was somewhat pleased.
The bad weather continued into the next day. Nothing of import had happened at work and, happily, the day was the same. “B” called me at the bank before I left to tell me he’d gotten the tires for the racecar. That was a the one big “project” left to go before the practice session and the plan was to mount the new tires on Saturday. The only “hitch” I could foresee was that I absolutely had to mow the lawn. It should’ve been mowed earlier in the week but I’d devoted my time to painting the racecar. The warm weather followed by rain had sent the grass into a major growth spurt.
With Elle teaching full time it left only the weekend for her to get all the household chores done and that included food shopping. Saturday morning it was obvious we were on different “wave lengths“. I was bent of mowing the lawn and she wanted me to watch the kids, along with a neighbor friend of Anne’s, so she could get the shopping done without distractions. The sun was out but it was a bit cool. I, reluctantly, agreed provided that they play outside where I could monitor them. I mowed around the playhouse first so I wouldn’t bother them and just about the time I finished that area Elle was headed out. The only ”rule“ for the girls was that they not go in the house without me.
As far as I could tell they played nicely. When I finished with the mowing I decided to rearrange the garage so I could bring the racecar home to paint the numbers and sponsor’s name on it. There wasn’t enough light at the barn and this way I’d make Elle happy by being around. I started to get worried when the noon hour was approaching and still no Elle. As I went out to check on the the kids I saw Anne’s friend sort of walking funny. Jean, when she saw me, ran over and announced that Dede had tinkled. Elle and I called Jean "grandma" as she had a tendency to mind everybody’s business. However, I’d noticed, on my own, her strange gait so I took a closer look. There was no doubt that her pants were wet to her ankles but it wasn’t slowing her down. I wondered what I was supposed to do. However, at that point the station wagon was headed up the driveway and I was ”saved“.
To be continued...
Wednesday, March 04, 2015
SURVIVING... Same ole, same ole (Part 129e)
SURVIVING... Same ole, same ole (Part 129e)
For a second she almost looked like a ghost. The wrap around robe had a sash to keep it closed and was also white. To finish off the “look” she had something wrapped around her hair. I know I had to be staring at her with a puzzled look on my face. She spoke rapidly and as she did I could hear a lisp which made her even a bit more difficult to understand. As I approached her I told her to calm down and to speak slowly. I remember her frowning, almost as if to say “Don’t speak to me that way!” Up close I could see the white “glop” was some sort of facial creme. When I was very young I'd sometimes seen my mother with stuff slathered all over her face but she also had on some kind of mask to put over it.
I was able to get the fact that she’d tried to start her washing machine and all she could get was a fairly loud “buzz” from it. I had no idea what the problem was but she was almost pleading to have me come over to take a look. I told her I was alone with a young child inside the house but I’d try to get over in 15 or so minutes. With that she turned and headed back through the hedge. I picked up the sign and took it down to the basement while thinking that this was not going to turn out all that well.
After getting Kaye dressed I headed through the hedge with her to do my neighborly duty. At the kitchen door I could see her sitting on a stool at the island in the middle of the kitchen. Still in her robe, she was smoking a cigarette and had a cup of coffee in her hand. All I could see was her back and the thing she had around her hair looked like a turban. When I knocked she spun around on the stool and waved me on in. With Kaye clinging to my leg as if she were welded to it, I struggled to get inside. She made a cursory effort to acknowledge Kaye and then pointed to the washing machine. It was a front loader, under the counter. Other than the color (colors were BIG in the 60’s) it was the same make as the one in my house when we bought it. I saw a mass of gray cloth piled on the counter above it as I approached. Pulling the dial on the front of it to start it I immediately heard the sound she’d described... a loud “Bzzzzzzzz”. I immediately turned back to her to ask if she’d turned the water on. The only way to describe the look I got back was a blank stare. I, again, asked if she’d turned on the water. Slowly, she asked where the faucets were. Turning back to the pile on the counter I pushed it away. On the backsplash were two chrome handles and I pointed to them. “Oh... ” was the reaction followed by her telling me that this was the first time she’d tried to use the machine.
I don’t know why the memory popped into my mind at just that time but I remembered back to when I was doing maintenance work at the mobile home park right after I’d quit training horses. I’d become friends with the repair man for the coin operated washing machines at the park and he once told me to make sure to run a whole cycle of water through a new machine before doing any clothes. With that thought I mentioned it to her and suggested that it be done. With her cigarette hanging from her mouth she shrugged and said “OK”. I stood there waiting for her to come over and unload the machine but she pointed to it and said to “go ahead” as if I was employed by her. I was shocked by her cavalier attitude but, for some unknown reason, I bent over and opened the glass door. What I saw really shocked me... the drum was packed with clothes and I mean packed. I remember laughing and being challenged by her for doing so. Trying to be nice I flatly stated that she had too much in the machine. Again, a blank stare. What made the stares disconcerting was that they were coming from behind this white paste like stuff she had on her face. (When I told some of my friends about it I described her eyes as being like two piss holes in the snow.) I started pulling things out starting with what turned out to be a sheet followed by a dark jacket that appeared to be woolen and a pair of bright red pants. I looked up at her and she was just sitting there puffing away. Another handful produced a variety of things including a white table cloth and some maroon napkins. I remember shaking my head. While still pulling items out I heard the phone ring.
Sitting on the stool she’d had her robe draped all around it to the point I could only see the legs of it under the rung where she’d been resting her feet. When she stood up and started for the phone the robe, still draped over the stool, caught on it and pulled it open exposing her nightie. Before she got more than a few steps the stool fell over and hit her. When she turned to get it off her, the robe, now caught under the stool, was pulled off one of her shoulders. I really didn’t get to see much. Bent over with only her nighty covering one hip I could see the outline of panties and that was for only a brief second. I know you won’t believe it but up to that time I really hadn’t been thinking of panties... but, as she went into the next room to get the phone I got to thinking/hoping that there would be some in the rest of the clothes still in the machine.
With my ears listening for the end of her conversation I went about pulling the remainder of the items out and onto the floor. The last handful proved to be a “winner”. As I looked down on it I got a pleasant surprise. I recognized the waist elastic of a pair of Carters Spanky Pants. The label, located in the middle of the back confirmed it of. To make it complete they had band legs and were the heavy ribbed cotton exactly like Elle's including the size. Elle wore them for a specific reason and I just didn’t think many grown women would wear them by choice.
It was impossible for me to have come up with an age for the woman what with the stuff on her face and her hair covered. The only clue I had was her voice and, with her lisp, that wasn’t much help. I didn’t dwell on that pair of panties for long other than to look at the crotch. There was just a normal discharge so I rooted through the pile looking for some more. The next ones I found were also the same but there was a fairly large “skid mark” in them. I’d started separating the clothes into light colors and dark colors like I’d seen Elle do. I reached into the middle of the big pile and found what felt somewhat like a ball and it was damp. I pulled it out and saw the familiar waist band elastic again. Shaking the panties out I immediately got the idea why they were damp. There was a fairly clear indication that she’d pooped in them and had just given them a cursory rinse. That was not a pleasant surprise. I had two fairly decent piles when she returned and explained that each amounted to a normal load. I told her about the need for separating colors and also that wool shouldn't be washed in a washing machine. I remember her shaking her head from side to side and then making a comment about it sounding reasonable. With her watching I then I turned on the faucets and started the machine on. The “Bzzzzzzz” was gone.
Kaye had been fascinated whenever Elle had used the front loader in our house so she went up to the window and watched the water splashing about. I really wanted to go home but my conscience wouldn’t let me. Afraid, with her naivety, that if there was a leak she’d not know what to do. So I figured it was as good a time as any to find out more about her...
To be continued...
For a second she almost looked like a ghost. The wrap around robe had a sash to keep it closed and was also white. To finish off the “look” she had something wrapped around her hair. I know I had to be staring at her with a puzzled look on my face. She spoke rapidly and as she did I could hear a lisp which made her even a bit more difficult to understand. As I approached her I told her to calm down and to speak slowly. I remember her frowning, almost as if to say “Don’t speak to me that way!” Up close I could see the white “glop” was some sort of facial creme. When I was very young I'd sometimes seen my mother with stuff slathered all over her face but she also had on some kind of mask to put over it.
I was able to get the fact that she’d tried to start her washing machine and all she could get was a fairly loud “buzz” from it. I had no idea what the problem was but she was almost pleading to have me come over to take a look. I told her I was alone with a young child inside the house but I’d try to get over in 15 or so minutes. With that she turned and headed back through the hedge. I picked up the sign and took it down to the basement while thinking that this was not going to turn out all that well.
After getting Kaye dressed I headed through the hedge with her to do my neighborly duty. At the kitchen door I could see her sitting on a stool at the island in the middle of the kitchen. Still in her robe, she was smoking a cigarette and had a cup of coffee in her hand. All I could see was her back and the thing she had around her hair looked like a turban. When I knocked she spun around on the stool and waved me on in. With Kaye clinging to my leg as if she were welded to it, I struggled to get inside. She made a cursory effort to acknowledge Kaye and then pointed to the washing machine. It was a front loader, under the counter. Other than the color (colors were BIG in the 60’s) it was the same make as the one in my house when we bought it. I saw a mass of gray cloth piled on the counter above it as I approached. Pulling the dial on the front of it to start it I immediately heard the sound she’d described... a loud “Bzzzzzzzz”. I immediately turned back to her to ask if she’d turned the water on. The only way to describe the look I got back was a blank stare. I, again, asked if she’d turned on the water. Slowly, she asked where the faucets were. Turning back to the pile on the counter I pushed it away. On the backsplash were two chrome handles and I pointed to them. “Oh... ” was the reaction followed by her telling me that this was the first time she’d tried to use the machine.
I don’t know why the memory popped into my mind at just that time but I remembered back to when I was doing maintenance work at the mobile home park right after I’d quit training horses. I’d become friends with the repair man for the coin operated washing machines at the park and he once told me to make sure to run a whole cycle of water through a new machine before doing any clothes. With that thought I mentioned it to her and suggested that it be done. With her cigarette hanging from her mouth she shrugged and said “OK”. I stood there waiting for her to come over and unload the machine but she pointed to it and said to “go ahead” as if I was employed by her. I was shocked by her cavalier attitude but, for some unknown reason, I bent over and opened the glass door. What I saw really shocked me... the drum was packed with clothes and I mean packed. I remember laughing and being challenged by her for doing so. Trying to be nice I flatly stated that she had too much in the machine. Again, a blank stare. What made the stares disconcerting was that they were coming from behind this white paste like stuff she had on her face. (When I told some of my friends about it I described her eyes as being like two piss holes in the snow.) I started pulling things out starting with what turned out to be a sheet followed by a dark jacket that appeared to be woolen and a pair of bright red pants. I looked up at her and she was just sitting there puffing away. Another handful produced a variety of things including a white table cloth and some maroon napkins. I remember shaking my head. While still pulling items out I heard the phone ring.
Sitting on the stool she’d had her robe draped all around it to the point I could only see the legs of it under the rung where she’d been resting her feet. When she stood up and started for the phone the robe, still draped over the stool, caught on it and pulled it open exposing her nightie. Before she got more than a few steps the stool fell over and hit her. When she turned to get it off her, the robe, now caught under the stool, was pulled off one of her shoulders. I really didn’t get to see much. Bent over with only her nighty covering one hip I could see the outline of panties and that was for only a brief second. I know you won’t believe it but up to that time I really hadn’t been thinking of panties... but, as she went into the next room to get the phone I got to thinking/hoping that there would be some in the rest of the clothes still in the machine.
With my ears listening for the end of her conversation I went about pulling the remainder of the items out and onto the floor. The last handful proved to be a “winner”. As I looked down on it I got a pleasant surprise. I recognized the waist elastic of a pair of Carters Spanky Pants. The label, located in the middle of the back confirmed it of. To make it complete they had band legs and were the heavy ribbed cotton exactly like Elle's including the size. Elle wore them for a specific reason and I just didn’t think many grown women would wear them by choice.
It was impossible for me to have come up with an age for the woman what with the stuff on her face and her hair covered. The only clue I had was her voice and, with her lisp, that wasn’t much help. I didn’t dwell on that pair of panties for long other than to look at the crotch. There was just a normal discharge so I rooted through the pile looking for some more. The next ones I found were also the same but there was a fairly large “skid mark” in them. I’d started separating the clothes into light colors and dark colors like I’d seen Elle do. I reached into the middle of the big pile and found what felt somewhat like a ball and it was damp. I pulled it out and saw the familiar waist band elastic again. Shaking the panties out I immediately got the idea why they were damp. There was a fairly clear indication that she’d pooped in them and had just given them a cursory rinse. That was not a pleasant surprise. I had two fairly decent piles when she returned and explained that each amounted to a normal load. I told her about the need for separating colors and also that wool shouldn't be washed in a washing machine. I remember her shaking her head from side to side and then making a comment about it sounding reasonable. With her watching I then I turned on the faucets and started the machine on. The “Bzzzzzzz” was gone.
Kaye had been fascinated whenever Elle had used the front loader in our house so she went up to the window and watched the water splashing about. I really wanted to go home but my conscience wouldn’t let me. Afraid, with her naivety, that if there was a leak she’d not know what to do. So I figured it was as good a time as any to find out more about her...
To be continued...
Monday, March 02, 2015
SURVIVING... Same ole, same ole (Part 129d)
SURVIVING... Same ole, same ole (Part 129d)
The next morning I tried to get some explanation of the note but Elle professed to be really in a rush so I was left to continue to wonder. She did ask if I planned to work on the car again that night and with the warm weather still hanging around I told her I was. I’d had to make a decision as to spending time at home and getting ”rewarded“ with some wet or at least damp fun or finishing painting the car. I knew (hoped) there would be many nice warm days in the coming months so stayed with the car project.
I couldn’t tell who, if any, of the tellers and first floor staff were stockingless. I’d never really paid any attention unless one of them wore particularly dark hose anyway. But what did get my attention was that there was a preponderance of Sprig/Summer like clothes being worn. It was a nice change. The one who stood out was Gina, she of the dark gray, blue and browns that I’d mostly seen since her hire. She had on a light green two piece cotton outfit, about mid thigh high but very tight around her hips. Even from a distance I could see the slight indents of her panties but it wasn’t a true VPL. That was the first indication of panties that I seen from her. I made it a priority to keep my eye on her during the day. Jerene was also a ”Spring flower”, dressed in a light yellow skirt with a flowered blouse. Laurie, the bookkeeping (computer?) machine operator also got out of her mostly drab colors wearing springlike blue. It was truly a welcome sight and a harbinger of things to come.
That day Jerene had an problem with a customer that Bret was familiar with so he went to her window to try and resolve it. Gina and Jerene worked side by side and had, in spite of about a ten year difference in age, gotten along well. Gina had tried to intercede on Jerene’s behalf but had made no progress so when Bret arrived he asked Gina to step back and find something else to do while he took care of the matter. She decided to refile signature cards. When Bret came back to his desk he had this big, big smile on his face. I had to ask. He motioned for me to come out into the lobby and over by the elevator. The smile hadn’t left his face by the time we got there and I couldn’t imagine what he wanted to tell me.
In all the time I’d known him I’d never heard him comment on any female’s looks so this was a first. He, excitedly, asked if I thought Gina was good looking. I certainly wasn’t expecting that but I answered somewhat positively. If I hadn’t been somewhat burdened by Gina’s past and the lingering memory of the questioning by the president of the bank I’m sure I would’ve taken a different approach to her than I did. Up to that time I’d pretty much limited my interest in her to her performance... and it had exceeded my expectations. When he heard my answer he admitted that he thought she was one of the best looking girls he’d ever seen. There was no denying that she was attractive but that was a pretty far reaching statement. I looked over at her and, dressed like she was, I had to admit she looked good. I had to ask him what had triggered this sudden interest. He blushed but admitted that he’d thought that way from the first time she walked into the bank. But, and this was the clincher, while working with Jerene and her problem customer he’d noticed her bending over the signature card drawers. He said he couldn’t believe his eyes because he saw her panties around her waist (He’d seen a DP {downpants}, but didn’t know what to call it) and the outline of her panties through her skirt (a VPL {visable panty line}. From the way he was talking it was almost like he’d never seen either before. I have to admit that I was jealous. I wanted to ask about the panties but still wasn’t ready to admit my fetish to him. However, I was getting close. I wish I could report that I had gotten as lucky later and seen something myself but I had to satisfy my yearning with the thought that there would be chances for me in the future.
I finished painting the car by myself that night. “B” called to see how it the painting had gone and told me that he wouldn’t be home until late Friday night as he was going to New Jersey on his way back from his trip to buy tires. We could buy them locally but there was only a limited selection of sizes. I knew from my friend, Cliffy, that there was a better selection if you went there. He’d given us the sizes we should be looking for to maximize the handling characteristics of the car. They cost more money but I wanted “B” to start out right and he agreed. It was only a week and a half until the first practice and I was getting the “bug”. There were still some small things to finish up on the car including painting the number on it. I’d started to make up the stencil for it so there was no reason not to be ready.
Sandy had gone back to work on a part time basis and from what Elle had gotten from her she was OK physically but had asked out of babysitting. She hadn’t yet come to grips with knowing that she couldn’t be a mother. That created a problem for Elle as her mother and Ginger couldn’t do it. Nanci was working at the school and with Phyl’s husband (Bob) running for the school board she begged out as well. We’d found out at the last “group” meeting that Aurilia was starting an imported cheese shop and had her hands full. I’d been in the “dog house” all week and wasn’t making any progress on getting out of it. Since Elle had only been teaching a month by then she didn’t have any sick time. When Elle had exhausted her cadre of friend looking for someone to look after Kaye I spoke up and said I’d take the day off and do it. I was instantly back in her good graces. The problem was I’d have to wait until she got home to reap the benefit since she was just about to go out the door when I stepped up and made the offer. I knew a call to Hobie would take care of work.
I'd been dressed and ready to go as well but it only took a few minutes to get changed. Kaye had adapted to going to both Ginger’s and Sandy’s homes but she clearly preferred to stay at home with her own toys and surroundings. The three days of good weather had abandoned us to the point that we couldn’t do anything outside. Kaye liked playing in the basement as the older girls had made an indoor playhouse there. They wouldn’t let her play in it when they were around so I wasn’t surprised when she asked to go there. In the back of my mind I knew I had to get to work on the roadside sign for Bob’s upcoming school board vote. All of a sudden this “hiccup” in my normal day was working out to my benefit. I’d made a rack for lettering signs even though I’d hardly used it. The sign I'd made for Jon (the milkman) the previous year had already been delivered to my garage. All I had to do is get it down into the basement and I was in business. I was on my way back from the garage with the 4’x8’ sheet of plywood and being blown about when I heard someone call. I didn’t see anyone but heard another “Yoo hoo”. I put the sign down and looked around. Then, through the opening in the hedge appeared a tall, thin woman wearing a chenille robe with white "glop" all over her face.
To be continued...
The next morning I tried to get some explanation of the note but Elle professed to be really in a rush so I was left to continue to wonder. She did ask if I planned to work on the car again that night and with the warm weather still hanging around I told her I was. I’d had to make a decision as to spending time at home and getting ”rewarded“ with some wet or at least damp fun or finishing painting the car. I knew (hoped) there would be many nice warm days in the coming months so stayed with the car project.
I couldn’t tell who, if any, of the tellers and first floor staff were stockingless. I’d never really paid any attention unless one of them wore particularly dark hose anyway. But what did get my attention was that there was a preponderance of Sprig/Summer like clothes being worn. It was a nice change. The one who stood out was Gina, she of the dark gray, blue and browns that I’d mostly seen since her hire. She had on a light green two piece cotton outfit, about mid thigh high but very tight around her hips. Even from a distance I could see the slight indents of her panties but it wasn’t a true VPL. That was the first indication of panties that I seen from her. I made it a priority to keep my eye on her during the day. Jerene was also a ”Spring flower”, dressed in a light yellow skirt with a flowered blouse. Laurie, the bookkeeping (computer?) machine operator also got out of her mostly drab colors wearing springlike blue. It was truly a welcome sight and a harbinger of things to come.
That day Jerene had an problem with a customer that Bret was familiar with so he went to her window to try and resolve it. Gina and Jerene worked side by side and had, in spite of about a ten year difference in age, gotten along well. Gina had tried to intercede on Jerene’s behalf but had made no progress so when Bret arrived he asked Gina to step back and find something else to do while he took care of the matter. She decided to refile signature cards. When Bret came back to his desk he had this big, big smile on his face. I had to ask. He motioned for me to come out into the lobby and over by the elevator. The smile hadn’t left his face by the time we got there and I couldn’t imagine what he wanted to tell me.
In all the time I’d known him I’d never heard him comment on any female’s looks so this was a first. He, excitedly, asked if I thought Gina was good looking. I certainly wasn’t expecting that but I answered somewhat positively. If I hadn’t been somewhat burdened by Gina’s past and the lingering memory of the questioning by the president of the bank I’m sure I would’ve taken a different approach to her than I did. Up to that time I’d pretty much limited my interest in her to her performance... and it had exceeded my expectations. When he heard my answer he admitted that he thought she was one of the best looking girls he’d ever seen. There was no denying that she was attractive but that was a pretty far reaching statement. I looked over at her and, dressed like she was, I had to admit she looked good. I had to ask him what had triggered this sudden interest. He blushed but admitted that he’d thought that way from the first time she walked into the bank. But, and this was the clincher, while working with Jerene and her problem customer he’d noticed her bending over the signature card drawers. He said he couldn’t believe his eyes because he saw her panties around her waist (He’d seen a DP {downpants}, but didn’t know what to call it) and the outline of her panties through her skirt (a VPL {visable panty line}. From the way he was talking it was almost like he’d never seen either before. I have to admit that I was jealous. I wanted to ask about the panties but still wasn’t ready to admit my fetish to him. However, I was getting close. I wish I could report that I had gotten as lucky later and seen something myself but I had to satisfy my yearning with the thought that there would be chances for me in the future.
I finished painting the car by myself that night. “B” called to see how it the painting had gone and told me that he wouldn’t be home until late Friday night as he was going to New Jersey on his way back from his trip to buy tires. We could buy them locally but there was only a limited selection of sizes. I knew from my friend, Cliffy, that there was a better selection if you went there. He’d given us the sizes we should be looking for to maximize the handling characteristics of the car. They cost more money but I wanted “B” to start out right and he agreed. It was only a week and a half until the first practice and I was getting the “bug”. There were still some small things to finish up on the car including painting the number on it. I’d started to make up the stencil for it so there was no reason not to be ready.
Sandy had gone back to work on a part time basis and from what Elle had gotten from her she was OK physically but had asked out of babysitting. She hadn’t yet come to grips with knowing that she couldn’t be a mother. That created a problem for Elle as her mother and Ginger couldn’t do it. Nanci was working at the school and with Phyl’s husband (Bob) running for the school board she begged out as well. We’d found out at the last “group” meeting that Aurilia was starting an imported cheese shop and had her hands full. I’d been in the “dog house” all week and wasn’t making any progress on getting out of it. Since Elle had only been teaching a month by then she didn’t have any sick time. When Elle had exhausted her cadre of friend looking for someone to look after Kaye I spoke up and said I’d take the day off and do it. I was instantly back in her good graces. The problem was I’d have to wait until she got home to reap the benefit since she was just about to go out the door when I stepped up and made the offer. I knew a call to Hobie would take care of work.
I'd been dressed and ready to go as well but it only took a few minutes to get changed. Kaye had adapted to going to both Ginger’s and Sandy’s homes but she clearly preferred to stay at home with her own toys and surroundings. The three days of good weather had abandoned us to the point that we couldn’t do anything outside. Kaye liked playing in the basement as the older girls had made an indoor playhouse there. They wouldn’t let her play in it when they were around so I wasn’t surprised when she asked to go there. In the back of my mind I knew I had to get to work on the roadside sign for Bob’s upcoming school board vote. All of a sudden this “hiccup” in my normal day was working out to my benefit. I’d made a rack for lettering signs even though I’d hardly used it. The sign I'd made for Jon (the milkman) the previous year had already been delivered to my garage. All I had to do is get it down into the basement and I was in business. I was on my way back from the garage with the 4’x8’ sheet of plywood and being blown about when I heard someone call. I didn’t see anyone but heard another “Yoo hoo”. I put the sign down and looked around. Then, through the opening in the hedge appeared a tall, thin woman wearing a chenille robe with white "glop" all over her face.
To be continued...
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