ANOTHER YEAR... another month (Part 153g)

ANOTHER YEAR... another month (Part 153g)

The game plan that Jack came up with, to let Davo (at 6’6“) hang back towards the basket we were shooting at to pick up easy points didn’t work out as he’d expected. Davo did get some easy baskets but on the other end we only had four men on defense. Zone defenses weren’t in vogue back then but that’s what we pretty much had to do to cover the five of them on the attack. Their tallest player was maybe 5’10” with most around 5’7’ or less. But they were quick. After about 5 minutes I was winded as were most of the rest of the guys. At half time we were only ahead by a few points so Jack went back to normal, man to man basketball. I sat out after the half and let Johnnie go in for me. We were both the same height but he was a bit heavier and didn’t get pushed around as much as I did. We were pretty excited because it was the first game we led at half time and I was totally focused on the game... until Sandy jumped up when Johnnie scored a basket. She’d been sitting next to Bobo and when she got up it wasn’t hard for me to see the ‘smile’ on her butt cheeks. I got a few seconds view before she sat back down. In thinking about it I realized she was wearing a pair of sanitary panties over what I figured were ‘dribble’ panties. After not having seen her in quite a while it was a nice re-introduction.

There was no second look as I went back in the game shortly afterwards. With just a few minutes left the other team took the lead and Jack called a time out. Davo had most of the points for us but he was ‘gassed’ even though he hadn’t had to run all that much in the first half. He begged to sit out the last few minutes. That left Johnnie and I as the tallest players for our team and Jack set  us under the baskets to get rebounds on missed shots. We didn’t have all the fancy clocks they have today so we, on the floor, had no idea how much time was left. I got a rebound on the defensive end and saw Johnnie running towards our basket so I heaved the ball in that direction. It bounced once and into his hands. He dribbled a few feet and made the basket that won the game for us, our first win. We were all exhausted and were sort of holding each other up. When I saw Sandy running towards Johnnie I broke away as if I was going over to the bench. But, it was to get a better look at her backside. It was a lot wetter than the last look and, as mean as it sounds, I sort of enjoyed seeing her jumping around with the seat of her pants showing round wet spots on each cheek.

When that celebration calmed down Bobo broke out the goodies. Alcohol wasn’t allowed in the school but she’d brought a thermos with vodka in it to add to the sodas she’d brought to go with sandwiches. She squatted down to pour the vodka into the soda cans and as she did I got my second ‘reward’, a nice DP. It lasted for almost a minute and any of the other guys who might’ve been interested certainly had their chance. By the time we left to go home we were ready to take on the Harlem Globetrotters. I paid for it the next morning but, all in all, it was a good night!

Bad weather and working late a couple of Friday nights were the reasons for not attending any more of the boys varsity basketball games during the month. Elle only had a few days of teaching during the month but when she did she managed to run into Mo or Barbara from next door. They asked when we would be coming to the games as the season was winding down. Elle passed it on to me and I told her and the kids we’d go to the next game. I hadn’t seen Barbara since her mother made the ‘reveal’ about her wetting on purpose. I had very mixed emotions about it since she was, at sixteen, still a minor. I wasn’t sure how I’d react when I saw again.

With work progressing on the branch it meant I had to start in with the development of a new gift campaign for the opening. Between Bert (the president), Hobie and Gee, the Trustee/attorney, they’d managed to wrest control of that from the branch committee. On my own initiative I’d managed to get the names of a few companies who focused on what, in the industry, was called ‘premiums’. In looking over the material that the Trustees turned over to Bert they had only considered one company. I wasn’t really looking forward to the project but I wasn’t shying away from it wither.

The month really flew by. The end of it meant there was only six weeks until Elle and I headed for Florida. We were both getting excited and Elle had taken some of the money she’d earned in January and bought a few things just for the trip. I’d managed to get a few signs completed and had set aside some cash for spending money while we were there. Elle had managed to get in contact with one of her college friends who lived only a half hour from where we were to be staying and that was something else to look forward to. Joining up with Cliffy and the racecar provided an unexpected bonus in that he picked up extra cash driving people to and from the two city airports and offed to do the same for us and at no cost but for the gas. Elle’s mother, with plenty of warning, was willing to take the kids for the whole week. It seemed like everything was falling into place. Now it was on to March...

To be continued... 

ANOTHER YEAR... another month (Part 153f)

ANOTHER YEAR... another month (Part 153f)

The day before had been the regular monthly Board meeting. There were two things of importance that came from it... work had been started on the new branch and ”Polak“ Joe was back in good stead. Because the day after the meeting was a holiday Bret and I didn’t find out about the progress on the branch until that Friday and it was Hobie who told us. The weather had been warm enough to pour the slab and to create the basic part of the vault. He said he was going to take a ride up to the site on Saturday and asked if either of us wanted to go along. I really didn’t because of town team basketball. I hated to leave the guys on the team ‘hanging’ but also felt that if I didn’t go it would reflect poorly on me so I said yes. As I found out later, Bret also accepted the invite fearing the same thing.

We met at Hobie’s house around mid morning and during the 40 minute or so ride we got to talk about a lot of things. One was Jerry. I’d vowed to keep my mouth shut pretty much figuring that since he was the ‘pet’ of some of the Board members I wouldn’t be doing myself any favors by citing his deficiencies. So, when Hobie asked for both Bret’s and my observations on his performance I was surprised. Neither of us wanted to answer and when Hobie realized it he told us that ”it would be off the record”. I took a deep breath and told him that I just didn’t trust him to follow bank protocols. I didn’t give any specific examples but Bret did. Emboldened by his words I added on by saying that if he couldn’t follow rules and regulations with the three of us looking over his shoulder what was going to happen when he was on his own.

I waited for Hobie to respond but he ‘clammed up’ just like he did when I questioned him about Gina a few months earlier. I was pretty sure I knew him well enough that he wouldn’t put either of us in jeopardy as far as the Board members were concerned but I didn’t know just what he’d do with the information that we’d given him. The last mile or so before we got to the site was quiet. As I’d written in an earlier post, the property was irregular in shape and forced compromises as far as the location of the building so as to allow for a drive-up window. On the plans it didn’t look all that bad but seeing the footprint of the actual building on the property it was a bit of a shock. The township required that we put in sidewalks even though there were none on the properties on either side of our lot. That left but a few feet between the building and the sidewalk. The first thing  that troubled me was that there was little to no space for a sign that could or would be read by passing traffic. It would have to be on the building itself. Zoning had requirements as to the size of any signage on a commercial property. In expressing my concern to Hobie he thought that our newest Trustee, a local (to that area) attorney might be able to wrangle a variance for us and not to worry about it right then.

We were just about to go and inspect the vault when a car pulled up beside Hobie’s vehicle. Out stepped Jerry followed by his wife and daughter. Seeing them walking across the slab together I couldn’t help but think of the cartoon character, the Sad Sack, as he had this hang-dog look on his face. I could hear his wife’s shrill voice complaining about how hard it was going to be to find a place to live in the area. As we were about to find out they’d been surveying the housing developments near the branch. Basically, there weren’t any. There were a few that were proposed but it was pretty barren right at that time. The next twenty or so minutes were spent listening to her ask all kids of questions, all of which should’ve been asked by Jerry during his interview(s). Hobie, politely, got us out of the situation saying he had to be back home to go to a luncheon. He wasn’t completely lying... because he’d volunteered to take Bret and I to lunch but it was at a restaurant that was on our way back.

None of us wanted to speak at first. Finally, I broke the silence by asking if anyone heard Jerry say anything after he reintroduced his wife and daughter to us. I was looking at Bret when I spoke and he just broke out with a laugh. Hobie was trying to keep a straight face but not for long. He changed the subject by stating that we needed to stay on top of the construction of the actual building as he’d come to agree with me that the placement of the manager’s office was less than ideal. That made me feel good although I pretty much knew that I’d be the one to follow up the inspections.

Later, I found that the town team had lost again but it wouldn’t have mattered even if I’d been there. I did find out that there had been a schedule change and that we were to play on Tuesday night, at home. The team we were playing had been preempted from their school gym and Jack (our coach) arranged it so we could play at our school. Jack was eager to play this team because they, like us, had lost all the games they’d been in. He wanted a ‘real’ win rather than a forfeited one. He’d scouted the team and told the guys that Davo, our big guy would score at least 20 points against them. I heard that and wanted to laugh. The most points we’d scored in the games I’d attended and played in were less than that.

On game night, Bobo was there waiting for us with her goodies, only she told us we had to win to get them. I was surprised to see Johnnie, Sandy’s husband, there. I hadn't seen him since early in the Fall. It turned out that Jack had been working on him to play and had finally convinced him. He’d been really upset that he hadn’t even been interviewed for either coaching position, especially after he’d been the JV coach the year before. But, what was especially pleasing was to see Sandy there as well. That gave me two females to check out for both DP’s and VPL’s.

To be continued...

Time out...

Time out... for Thanksgiving.

Last evening we got a surprise message from our granddaughter. We knew she was in London on assignment but had been told by her mother that she wouldn't be coming back to the USA until just before Christmas. In the message she told us her company had decided to let some people return to the states for Thanksgiving. But, it was so late that almost all flights were booked. In trying to find a flight she found one that would get her to Washington DC. We live about an hour and a half from that airport so she wanted to know if we'd like a "visitor" for a few days. Of course we said "yes" even thought it meant changing our plans. We haven't seen her since last Christmas and were very excited to see her. We got in touch with her mother and she's driving here too. The one request she made was to have a home cooked Thanksgiving meal so today's been a bit hectic gathering all the 'fixins' together.  (We'd planned to eat out) I just got back from the airport with the granddaughter so haven't had time to work on the next post. I should be able to get something up by Sunday after they both leave.

Soooo.... To all of you who do stop by from time to time, I hope you have a good Thanksgiving and that you do truly have things to be thankful for. My wife and I sure do in that the daughter who's been so sick is now part of a clinical trial that seems to be helping her. And, of course, we're thankful that we have another daughter and granddaughter here with us for a few days.

Gobble, gobble and don't eat too much... :-)

ANOTHER YEAR... another month (Part153e)

ANOTHER YEAR... another month (Part 153e)

It didn’t take long for me to get the answer to the strange panty elastic I’d seen when viewing the DP’s on Bobo. The contents of the drawer was a mishmash of bras, panties, socks garter belts and stockings. There was no order to the contents at all. But there were a couple of bright white items that got my attention right away. I picked one up and it was a panty. The first thing I noticed was the stitching on the waist elastic as it seemed to match what I’d seen while viewing the DP’s on Bobo. However, when I held them up there was something else that made them different from all the panties I’d seen and held. There was patterned stitching all across the front panel. That, for sure, was something very new for my eyes. When I put my fingers on it I realized there was some sort of stiffer material behind/inside the satiny material of the panty. Other than that they looked like regular panties except the crotch was smaller than most panties I’d ever seen. That explained why I’d not gotten a good VPL from Bobo. The label didn’t have a name but just some numbers and what I took to be the size... a bold M. There were three of these panties in the drawer and they all looked fairly new. That wasn’t the case with most of the other panties. They looked pretty sad and, with the one pair I pulled out to inspect, the leg elastic was starting to pull away from the material. I checked the labels on a few and they were so old that the printing had been washed away.

Since I was already in the drawer and Bobo’s bras were right there I took a peek at what size they were. I’d mentioned that she was well endowed and I found one that looked fairly new with a readable label... 36C. Some of the guys on the basketball team had been making guesses as to just how big she was. Now that I knew I felt somewhat empowered... but certainly couldn’t share the information.

Putting everything back in the drawer I really never had a serious thought about taking any panties. The older ones were just that... old... and with only three of the newer ones it would be obvious if one were missing. I made a mental note to be looking for panties like them whenever I had a chance to peruse a lingerie department. The negative side of that was I really didn’t have that much opportunity any more.

The clothes that Jack wanted to go to the dry cleaners were on the back of a chair in the kitchen. I’d walked right past them when I came in. I grabbed them up and headed for town. After leaving the items off I saw no need to go tell Jack that I’d accomplished his request so headed home to my sign. After designing the layout of a sign the actual painting/lettering is rather mindless. So... my thoughts went to Bobo’s panties. I was really curious as to why the subtle differences to what I called normal panties. I wondered if a trip to see my friend Judith who owned the boutique a few miles away might give me the answer. After about half an hour I was on my way.

Her new location, with more space, hadn’t been open all that long but it hadn’t taken Judith much time to overload it like her old space. We chatted for a bit but I had to have a reason for being there other than to ask about the different style of panties. As you know if you’ve been reading this tome for any time at all I loved Van Raalte panties because of the large crotch area and they were a brand she carried. Every time I visited the boutique I usually left with a box of six. Since I wanted to get back home before Elle did I asked if she'd gotten in any new styles. She smiled and led me back to the lingerie area and pulled out an unopened box. She showed me a pair and they looked exquisite. While she ran the sale up I made conversation and asked about the different panties I’d seen at Bobo's. I’d hoped she wouldn’t ask why I wanted to know and she didn’t... at first. She told me they were something new and were introduced to cut into the girdle market. The word she used was ”shaper“ and were to hold a female’s tummy in without being uncomfortable. After that explanation she asked why I wanted to know adding that from her observation Elle sure didn’t need one. I was lying when I told her we’d had a visitor for a few days and I’d gotten a look at one. She seemed to ‘buy’ my answer and proceeded to pull out a box from a shelf. The name on the side read ”Whisper Soft“ and she took a pair out. It was a bit different than Bobo’s but it had the same reversal of waist elastic and the different style of stitching. The front panel didn’t have as much fancy stitching as Bobo’s and when I reached out to touch the front panel it was less stiff than the front of Bobo’s. Standing there touching them I knew I wanted a pair even though I knew Elle would never wear them. The problem was could I come up with a plausible reason to buy one.

My ability to ‘think quick’ held me in good stead as I told her that they might be something Elle’s mother might like since she was always complaining when she wore a girdle. Judith didn’t hesitate and asked if I knew her size. I did know her dress size as Elle had bought her one for Christmas so gave that to her. She then handed me one and gave me instructions for her to try it on while wearing panties so if she didn’t like it I could return it. BINGO! My trip had been worth it... for two reasons.
                               

                       
The panties in the picture are 48 years old and have never been worn, not even for a minute. They were added to my ‘stash’ back then and have been there ever since.

To be continued...   

ANOTHER YEAR... another month (Part 153d)

ANOTHER YEAR... another month (Part 153d)

The team consisted of Cliffy, Dick, Alan, Buster, Joey and me. Cliffy and Dick were in Elle’s class from the fifth grade on. Alan and Buster were a year or two behind them and Joe just appeared at the shop one day. I’d been friends with Cliffy since we were fifteen and, before I had my own racecar, I’d been a part of the group who went to the races with his father’s car so knew Dick, Alan and Buster from way back then. Joey was the only unmarried. Cliffy’s wife, Beth was a few years younger than the rest of us and came from the next town to the East. They had three kids, a girl a year older than Jean, my oldest and two boys somewhere between my Anne and my Kaye. Dick’s, wife went by the nickname, Raa. They had two girls and one was friendly with my Anne. They lived right across the road in a big old Victorian house. Alan had married a girl from near the city who spent her Summers in the area. They had two toddlers but I really didn’t know her because she didn’t like racing and hadn’t been at the track when I was hanging with Cliffy. Buster was also married but I'd been told that his wife, Marilyn, was, to put it bluntly, a bitch. I’d also been told by Dick that the others weren’t going to let him join the team because of her but they needed his money. I didn’t know her and wasn’t looking forward to meeting her what with that reputation.

The meeting about the racecar was at the repair shop his father owned and where Cliffy worked. It was a really big space and there were all kinds of farm tractors and farm vehicles there. The racecar was over in a corner and covered with dust. From a distance it looked pretty sad. Cliffy explained that farmers would put off doing repairs to their equipment until it was almost time for the new planting season and then want it done yesterday. Cliffy’s father had some success in getting them to bring their stuff in early by giving them a break in the hourly rate he charged. Looking at at least a half dozen different types of equipment it seemed like it worked. He told us the racecar didn’t need all that much work so the plan was to wait until the first of April to start to go over it. The season was to start the first Saturday in May which was over two months away. Hearing that, with my interest at a high peak, was a bit of a disappointment.

Cliffy’s father had owned racecars since 1953 and had won track championships back in those days. Upon graduation Cliffy (and Dick) joined the Navy and his father stopped racing. At the end of his service duty Cliffy talked his father into building him a racecar and he’d been racing since 1960. His father’s car number had been 8 at the beginning but when he came back that number was taken. Cliffy decided he wanted a number that had an eight in it and had raced for a few years with number 78. They didn’t have a lot of luck so changed it to 28. The first year with that number he won the track championship and that qualified him to race at Daytona. However, the luck with that number seemed to have faded so the first order of business for us was to choose a new number. Cale Yarborough, driving a Ford had just won the big 500 mile race at Daytona with a car numbered 21. We pretty much all agreed that was a good number and, after a bit decided to go with that. Cliffy’s father had a love of the color red and when someone suggested that we change the color as well, since he no longer owned the car, we chose maroon and off white to go with the new number. The source of the idea... they were the colors of the winning car at Daytona. I, as a sign painter, agreed to come up with a design for the colors and would paint the numbers on the car. It made me feel like I was a real part of the team. As we were breaking up Cliffy proposed that we have a party to inaugurate the new team. He offered to host it and said his wife would let everyone know when. Another party was not what I needed on my schedule but...

The town team basketball wasn’t going well but we were sort of getting into shape after three games and were no longer an embarrassment. Jack’s wife, Bobo, continued to root for us from the bench and to provide home made goodies. For me, it was an occasional DP. I was still intrigued with the type panties she wore based upon the stitching in the waist elastic. I’d managed to get one VPL but it wasn’t all that big meaning it was a small crotch. At least she gave me something to ponder when sitting on the bench (which I did a lot of). It was on Presidents Day that an unexpected opportunity arose for me when Jack called to ask a favor. He was getting his suburban serviced and they had found something wrong. He had no choice but to wait. He realized that he’d neglected to drop his dry cleaning off at the laundromat. (He was more than just a coach at school as he also was a 6th grade teacher. Back in those days teachers still had to adhere to a dress code.) He told me that his wife would "kill him“ if it didn’t get done and all I had to do was get it and drop it off. I asked where Bobo was and was told she and a girlfriend had gone shopping at the regional mall. Not really thinking about the opportunity I asked why he'd called me. It was because I didn't live that far from him and town. I was a little bummed because I was counting on the time to work on a big sign in my basement... but he was a good guy so I said I‘d help him out. He told me where the key to the back door was hidden and where the clothes were located. I was at the bottom of the driveway when it came to me... WOW! was my immediate thought.

Summer bungalows in our area were like small communities, clustered in various areas that pretty much were in walking distance of the water be it the Bay or the Sound. Driving down the road to his house (it was more like a path) I remembered the times before I had a driving license and had to use a boat to get to this particular area. Fond memories, for sure. I found the cottage and quickly had the key. He'd told me the clothes were supposed to be hanging in a hall closet but there wasn’t anything but coats in it. I took a look around trying to find them thinking that maybe Bobo had taken them when she left. It was a three bedroom dwelling but only one had any size to it. I walked in and even though I was supposed to be searching for the clothes I spied the dresser and went right for it. The second drawer down held the prizes.

To be continued...

ANOTHER YEAR... another month (Part 153c)

ANOTHER YEAR... another month (Part 153c)

Because the affair at Pat’s was called together so late a number of participants would only agree to stay for a short while. I was all for that although it was productive. When Pat had proposed the competitive event the previous year it had been turned down by the Board because Pat couldn’t come up with a stated purpose for the money that would be raised by ticket sales. This year she’d come up with buying some gymnastic equipment as most of the surrounding schools were getting into the sport. Jon (the milkman) and Bob, who were both on the Board reinforced the concept and hoped Pat’s event would generate enough interest to force the Board to fund it going forward. As for the event itself the specific games/contests were firmed up and suggested names of people to act as referees were discussed. We had a little over a month for that but what was becoming more pressing was the school board election. No one wanted to hear about that and we pretty much walked out before 9pm. No games and no ‘peeks’. I think it was the first time Ginger hadn’t given me one while at a gathering of the ’group’.

With Elle teaching almost the whole month and leaving our youngest, Kaye, at the day care run by the wife (Phyllis) of the principal, she got to see her at least three times a week. That familiarity led to Phyllis becoming a lot less ‘standoffish’ and more friendly. So, it wasn’t a complete surprise when she called Elle one morning to ask if she would be willing to help her at the day care. Her assistant couldn’t come in and Phyllis had too many kids to handle by herself. Elle loved kids and thought it would be fun to deal with younger ones for a change. When I got home and asked her how the day had gone I didn’t expect her answer to be that she’d tell me later. I tried to get her to give me a hint and all I got was that it was a much longer day than when she was at school and a LOT more physical. She added that she had a much greater admiration for Phyllis and just what she did.

It was after the kids were in bed before she was willing to talk. Normally she’d come down the stairs and we’d watch TV. But not this night. She waved for me to follow her into the kitchen and sat down at the table. I was really puzzled and the serious look on her face only added to that. My first thought was that there was some bad news about Kaye and her behavior while there. But I’d noticed that with her attendance her shyness and timidity had improved by quite a lot. So, when Elle started in by explaining that Phyllis had asked her to stay for a few minutes after the last kids were picked up it was Barbara that she wanted to talk about.

Even though Elle had never talked directly to Phyllis about her incontinence she pretty much had taken it as a ‘given’ that she knew. Barbara certainly knew from when she’d spent the long weekend with us and, knowing how kids talk, felt she had probably shared it with her mother. That, and the fact that she’d shared how she handled the situation at night with her ’package’ made it almost a certainty. But I was really taken aback when Elle told me that Phyllis told her she thought Barbara was wetting on purpose.

To me, Elle was uneasy in sharing this information with me. I was shocked and didn’t know how to react. It took a few seconds before I spoke. I asked if she knew why Phyllis had told her about this and all she could do was shrug her shoulders. Elle did offer that she thought Phyllis was just looking for advice even though she hadn’t come right out and asked for it. We chatted for a while and I finally got around to asking how Phyllis discovered it. I don’t remember her exact answer but I took it that Phyllis caught Barbara masturbating and her panties were wet. Elle said it was very uncomfortable for her and that prompted me to ask what she said to Phyllis. As I remember it she shrugged her shoulders at first and then said she told her that Barbara was a really good girl. I was still trying to figure out what Phyllis expected from Elle as we finally went in to watch TV.

I found myself unable to concentrate on the TV screen as I wrestled with the whole thing in my mind. As I thought about Elle’s and my relationship with her incontinence and voluntarily (sometimes) wetting for me I could honestly not think of a single time where she wet for her own pleasure. This was the first time I even heard of such a thing. By the time we headed up the stairs I began to worry about Barbara and what Phyllis might do to possibly punish her.

Telling Elle about my involvement with Cliffy and the racecar got put off for as long as I could. When he got back from Florida he called the house to tell me he and the others were meeting at the shop to start planning for the season. The only thing was that I wasn’t home and Elle answered. I made sure to tell him that Elle wasn’t to know about the money when I gave it to him. However, there was no way for him to know I hadn’t spoken to Elle. As soon as I arrived home she was all over me wanting to know what I was up to. I remember taking a deep breath before answering and telling her that I really missed being involved in racing after Big ”B“ sold his racecar. I went on that when I took my car to get it fixed Cliffy had asked if I was interested. She didn’t say anything but the look on her face told me I should have told her right after I’d agreed to join the guys. We stood face to face for a few seconds and then she walked away. It was the next morning before she spoke to me.

To be continued...

ANOTHER YEAR... another month (Part 153b)

ANOTHER YEAR... another month (Part 153b)

After hitting, or attempting to hit, a few balls, I stopped... because I couldn’t concentrate. When the woman swung her club her hips were a sight to behold. I couldn’t wait for her to retrieve her whiffle balls. I was so engrossed that I didn’t see or realize the instructor had walked up behind me. He tapped me on my shoulder and I know I jumped. He asked if I had a problem... and I did but I couldn’t tell him what it was. After he walked past me I made sure he was far enough away before I focused on the woman again. The timing couldn’t have been better. Initially, I’d hoped that she would bend over at the waist to pick up the balls but she chose to squat to do it. To me, a DP (down pants) was far better than a VPL and I got one... and a surprise. What I saw was about four inches of a black material. I looked down (I was only about five feet away) and could make out what appeared to be the waist elastic so I assumed they were panties. I’d never seen black panties on a female before. I’d seen a few on display when in the large department stores while in the city but had yet to see any in the local stores I’d visited. I’d also seen them in one of the many catalogs we got in the mail but it sure was a shock that evening. Concentrating on them, it appeared the elastic was sewn on the inside of the material and I'd not, knowingly, seen before. She was down for at least 10 t0 15 seconds and to reach the last of the balls did a duck walk to get to them. I could see at least an inch to and inch and a half of the panty down towards her butt crack. It was very interesting. After she got up she walked over to the instructor and never came back. I was hoping we’d end up doing some other drills that would give me a chance for a VPL but it didn’t happen.

Practice for the basketball team was at 9am on Saturdays. With the coach as a part of the team he had the keys to the auditorium/gym. However, even though we had access to the locker room we were told we couldn’t use the showers. Because it was the weekend the heat was turned down so we didn’t perspire all that much. Before we left I took the opportunity to take a peek into the girls locker room and found it to be somewhat different than the boys and I wondered why. I also noticed if you stood in one place outside the doorway that you could get a sliver of a peek into the room. I wondered how many boys had figured that out over the years.

Outside, I overheard a conversation between two of the other team members having to do with the Daytona race to be run on Sunday. I’d been following it the best I could (No TV coverage back in those days) and asked if they knew who was to start on the pole (first place). They both looked at me and blurted out something like “Are you a race fan?” When I said I was and that I’d actually driven in races at the local track they got quite animated. One of them, Davo, was about 6’6“ tall and was supposed to be the tallest guy in the league. He was also very slow. The other guy, Adam, had been on the now defunct team and, although heavy, had the best shot. We talked for a short while before I mentioned that I’d just bought an interest in a local racecar. ”Who?“ was their combined response. When I told them it was Cliffy they laughed. It turned out they were good friends with him and although they didn’t work on the car, attended all the races as fans. When we got back to the Daytona race they told me it was Cale Yarborough who had garnered first place in the time trials and they were rooting for him to win the race. From the little that got printed in the newspapers I knew he was a very good driver so chimed in that I also hoped he’d win. (BTW: He did) Driving home I had a real good feeling about my involvement in the new racing team. 

I knew that Jack, the coach, was married and his wife, Bobo (yes, that’s what she was called) worked in the school cafeteria. We’d not seen her during our practices but for our first game she showed up with water and home made ‘goodies’. From a distance she appeared to be pretty but a closer look showed that she’d had terrible acne as a teen and her face was scarred from it. But, she had a nice body and was well ‘endowed’ and in scanning her backside saw possibilities for a VPL or two. We had to play our home games on a Tuesday night as the adult education courses had the other nights with the high school basketball games scheduled for Fridays. I can’t say I was surprised that our audience was almost entirely family members. Bobo sat on the bench with us so she could chat with Jack. I didn’t think much of it until I ended up next to her. Soon after I took my seat she turned to talk to Jack and I, almost instinctively,  looked in the same direction... and down just a bit. As with the lady at Golf instruction, there was a delightful DP for me to appreciate.

Like with the golf lady, I saw something I’d not seen before. The waist elastic was inside the material but there was something else. The stitching was very noticeably different. I don’t really know how to describe it but, for sure, it was new to me.
                                   

sample of stitching

 Another thing... the panties seemed to be especially shiny. For a short while I forgot all about the ball game. I only got to see them the one time but that night I kept thinking/wondering just who made them. BTW:.. we lost.

Somewhere in and about that period of time, Pat (the PTA lady) got most of the ‘group’ to agree to having a party/meeting at her house. It wasn’t about the school board but was to firm up plans for the parent teacher competition. The school board had given approval to use the gymnasium on a Saturday night in March and Pat had rounded up at least 10 teachers to participate, including Elle, as well as a dozen parents. She wanted us to come up with more ideas for the competitions. Reluctantly, I agreed to go.

To be continued...

ANOTHER YEAR... another month (Part 153a)

ANOTHER YEAR... another month (Part 153a)

Aside form being annoyed at having to deal with Jerry every day, things were going well at the bank as February started. Jaz, in taking Janet’s place, had fit in well both with the other tellers and the customers. Peggy was happy at the drive-up and with the school savings program. Alice showed up a few times wearing a pants suit and, as soon as 3pm came and the lobby was empty, off came the jacket and if I concentrated, was able to discern a nice VPL. Lorie was doing very well as chief clerk and I had to admit to myself that I’d been wrong about her. Having worked closely with her for the month I’d come to realize that she was another who would’ve benefited from a college education. She and Mala (who was now working in the accounting department), because of their parents philosophy about education, never had the opportunity. Speaking of Lorie, after seeing panties on the wash line at her house that one night, I made a point of taking the long way home on a couple of occasions. I don’t remember how many times I did before seeing any. Winter time and being night don’t add up to a high percentage of seeing wash of any kind. I actually parked in the same place as when I’d first discovered them and could definitely see two different sizes and the smaller ones had to belong to Lorie. I didn’t have a plan to do anything more than look but it was a fun thing to do.

I’d managed to get to see my friend Cliffy to give him the money for my share of his father’s racecar. He told me that he and his wife, Beth, were going to host a meeting of the others when they got back from Daytona Beach, Florida. Cliffy had won the track championship at the local track he raced at the year before and it gave him a starting place in one of the races held there each February. He was going back to help a fellow driver in one of the races this year. I was getting ‘itchy’ to get back into racing and was looking forward to making plans for the upcoming season.

Signing up for an American Express card turned out to be a learning experience. Even though I was working in the banking business, the type of bank I worked for didn’t offer credit cards of any kind so I knew absolutely nothing about how they worked. I was not prepared when they told me I’d have to pay a monthly fee just to have the card. The reason I chose American Express was that it was the one I’d always seen my father use. I told Bret about my plight and he said the bank his father worked for had Master Card credit cards and they charged one $12 fee per year. What was even better was when I told him what I needed it for... golf clubs and a guitar. I remember his eyes lighting up and then blurting out he knew where I could get both. His father had given up golf because of arthritis in his wrists and didn’t know what to do with his clubs. He assured me that the price would be reasonable but even better, I could try them out first. On the guitar, his sister had tried to learn a few years back and gave up. When she moved away she’d left the guitar with Bret’s parents and his mother was complaining about it taking up needed space. It was like I’d hit the lottery even though I didn’t know how much money I’d have to spend.

Bret insisted that I follow him to his house that evening to pick the items up. While there I asked his father about getting a credit card. He told me it would take about a week to ten days. That told me I had some time because my real need for it wasn’t until Elle and I headed for Florida. As for the golf clubs he told me $25 but before I had a chance to speak he changed his mind and said $20 would be just fine. Bret interjected at that point to ask his father if I could try them first. I remember him laughing and was reminded of a laugh that a good Santa Claus might make. I took it to mean that I could.

While this negotiation was going on Bret’s mother was no where to be seen. I hadn’t called Elle to tell her I’d be late so I was anxious to leave. As I got to the door with the golf clubs she appeared from the kitchen holding a very dusty guitar case. Moving towards me she almost pleaded with me to take it... for free... just to get it out of her pantry. She added that she didn’t know if it would even work as it had been at least five years since it had been out of the case. She told Bret to take it out to the car for me with a big smile on her face. At the car I turned to thank Bret’s parents but they’d stayed in the house. As I said, it was like a lottery win for me.

Naturally, Elle wasn’t happy when I appeared at the kitchen door because I hadn't called. But, when I put the guitar case on the floor a big smile appeared. She had the guitar out of the case before I even got my coat off. Not knowing anything about guitars it looked good to me. The finish on it still shone but when she went to pluck the strings it was another story. Two broke as soon as she touched them. It made sense that it would need new strings... a small price to pay. I told her about the golf clubs but since dinner was already late she made me wait to show her.

Bret hadn’t told me how long it had been since his father had played but a look at the clubs (the irons) told me it had been quite a while. I spent over an hour working on them to make them at least presentable when I showed up for the next session at school. The last one had four women show up which was a lot better than the previous one. When signing up I’d noticed two that were both decent looking and had the potential to give off some nice VPL’s. I made a point of getting a position next to and a bit behind one of them. The instructor was teaching us how to use a ‘driver’ and had two groups going at the same time. On the walls behind the basketball backboards they’d hung heavy pads to keep the basketball players from crashing into the hard walls. The plastic wiffle balls we used would hit the pad and fall to the floor. After hitting eight or nine of them he’d blow a whistle to signal time out to pick the balls up. It was just what I was waiting for.

To be continued...

ANOTHER YEAR... onward! (Part 152f)

ANOTHER YEAR... onward! (Part 152f)

If I could do it over I’d do it differently but... Jerry was standing behind his desk and I moved right in front of him. He was about 5’10“ and I was 6’1” (no longer!) so I was looking down on him. At 160 pounds I certainly wasn’t all that intimidating. The look on his face spoke volumes and he certainly looked frightened as I almost shouted at him “Who do you work for?” when he didn’t answer I upped the volume a bit... “Who’s paying you?“. With still no response I was livid. Hobie, with his desk now located under the stairs and on the opposite side of the lobby heard me and had reached the gate to the ‘platform’ when I unloaded on him...”You don’t make the decisions on what accounts to offer and not offer!“ When I realized Hobie was there I stopped. Of course he wanted to know what was going on. I was too upset to give a rational answer and deferred to Bret to try and explain. Within a minute both Hobie, Jerry and Bret were gone, headed for Hobie’s new office area.

It took a few moments to calm down. When Bret returned I asked him what he’d told Hobie. Smartly, I thought, he added his observation of Jerry giving wrong information to customers. I knew there would be a price to pay but in less than a week of employment Jerry had done nothing to make me feel comfortable with him. In a few months he’d be off on his own at the branch without anyone watching what he was doing or saying. I smelled trouble.

Jerry was back to his desk in less than ten minutes but it was noticeable that he wouldn’t look towards Bret or I as he took his seat. I sat there waiting for the phone to ring fully expecting Hobie to ream me out. It never rang and I never saw Hobie for the rest of the day. But I just had a feeling that the matter wasn’t over. It was on Friday night that the ‘shoe dropped’.

It was Bret’s night to work until 6pm and as I was putting my coat on in the coat room Hobie stuck his head in and asked me to walk with him to our cars. I remember that it was starting to snow. It was just ‘small talk’ until we got to the cars. Then he, calmly, stated that we were going to have to ”live with Jerry, warts and all.“ He went on to say his future with the bank was ”a given“ and that we needed to ”educate“ him and that we had over four months to do just that. However, he added that he understood my frustration but also that I had to find a way to ”tone it down“. Then he asked if I thought I could do it. I told him I could but as we said our ”good nights“ I wondered it was actually possible. I think I sat in the car for at least five minutes before putting the key in the ignition.

It was around this time that my father surprised me one day at work. He hadn’t been in to see me since right after my grandfather had died. I asked what brought him to town and he proceeded to hand me an envelope. I asked him what it was and he told me to open it. Believe me... this was not like my father, at all. I ripped it open and there was a hundred dollar bill right on top. I pulled it out only to find more bills behind it. Counting it all out it was over $170. I remember shaking my head and I know I had to have had a puzzled look on my face.

It’s a long story and I won’t bore you with the details. It had to do with a wrong assessment on a piece of property owned by members of my family for over 125 years. When the modern property tax system was put into effect whoever plugged in the lot dimensions used the wrong numbers. My grandfather, old and with poor eyesight, never checked the calculations but just went ahead and paid the assessments. When he died my father was to inherit the property but before he did he noticed the error. Going to the assessors office he protested the numbers and, after about a year, got a refund on the overage. My brother was living with my parents (again) at that time and he suggested that my father split the “windfall’ between the two of us... and, for some reason, he decided to do it.

Looking down at the money in my hand I knew exactly where it was going... to Cliffy and his racecar! I knew I could scrounge the additional $25 together so, even with my father still standing there I was planning on getting in touch with Cliffy to tell him to count me into the partnership for his father’s racecar. I'm not sure I even thanked him for the money. Later, I knew there was no way I was going to tell Elle about the money. However, I would tell her about the racecar and that I was going to be a pit crew member. It wasn't a perfect solution but it seemed reasonable to me.

The first adult education night was a disappointment for me. Only one of the women who’d signed up showed. Forty something and a little on the plump side, I focused on what the instructor, an assistant professional at the country club, was exposing us to. Of the small group there it was obvious to me that I had a lot of work to do before I ever went on a golf course. For some unknown reason that woman decided to befriend me during the break. New to the area she thought that by taking some courses she would get the opportunity to meet local people. I found out that she had a daughter who had just flunked out of college and was asking if I knew of any jobs available. I didn’t but suggested that if she ever was in the town where the bank was located for her to stop by. She thanked me and we went back to the lessons, such as they were.

Elle had a much better feel for her class. The instructor, a music teacher at another high school, came with three guitars so everybody got a chance to pluck some strings. Elle was hooked after her first chords were played. At home she informed me that if she was to continue beyond the third lesson she’d need a guitar. I remember laughing thinking about the golf pro pretty much saying the same thing. By then getting a charge card was looking better and better. Even though we had the trust fund I knew that if I dipped into it I probably would never pay it back. With a charge card I’d be forced to make the payments. Another reason was that with the euphoria of our upcoming ”free“ trip to Florida we’d overlooked the fact that we’d have to have money to do any sightseeing. The room and meals were taken care of but that was all. It looked very much like I’d become an American Express cardholder and very soon.

To be continued...  

ANOTHER YEAR... onward! (Part 152e)

ANOTHER YEAR... onward! (Part 152e)

I’ve mentioned that we (the family) hadn’t attended any basketball games and that each time either Mo or Barbara would see Elle at school they’d ask when we were going to come see them cheer. I’m not sure just when it was but on a Friday night that I got home at a reasonable hour (before 6pm) Elle and the girls decreed that we were going... no if and or buts. I’d not met or even seen the new coaches but the talk at the post office was that the varsity coach was really good and had decided to focus on fundamentals and to not worry about the score. I’d kept track of the team through the local paper and they hadn’t won a game up to that time. So, when we got in the station wagon and headed for school I figured I was in for a long night. As far as the game was concerned I was right. But, the cheerleaders made me pretty much forget about the game.

Gone were the old dowdy uniforms replaced with much fancier ones. The newly hired girls physical education instructor had convinced the school board to “get with it” and to be more like the schools they competed against. Blue and gold were still the colors but the skirts were now pleated with the inner folds being gold and the outer ones blue and the uniform panties were back to being blue. What caught my attention was that the skirts were shorter... much shorter. On one of the girls her uniform panties showed without her doing any bending at all. Another thing was that the squad had grown with ten girls participating as opposed to six. I recognized a couple of them with one being the younger sister of the girl from the ‘panty house’ around the corner who used to babysit for us from time to time. She’d ‘filled out’ and was now even more attractive than her sister.

The girls started warming up at one end of the gym while the two teams did their warm ups on the court. I had my eye on the girls and would’ve killed to have been down at that end to watch them bend and stretch. When the horn blew to signal it was time for the game to start the girls got in a line under the basket where they’d been and, on signal, came running out onto the court, one at a time, yelling a cheer that ended with them doing a cart wheel and yelling the name of one of the players. They came out so fast there was no way to see them all do their cart wheels and by the time I figured that out I’d missed my chance for any panty peeks on most of them. Mo and Barbara were the shortest and were the first to come out and there was nothing for me to see with them. I rationalized it by thinking I already knew what they were wearing under the uniform panties.

At the first game time out was when the girls took to the court to perform. The boys were already hopelessly behind. Having watched Mo and Barbara practice a bit during the Summer in our yard I recognized the first activity. It was a pyramid with Barbara on the top. When she was there both Jean and Anne yelled out to her which surprised her and she missed the dismount and landed awkwardly. As she picked herself up I got just a peek of white from under the leg elastics. A sign of good things to come.

We stayed to the bitter end. I saw a few of the guys who I’d joined with the previous Winter to attempt to play basketball in a town team league.The new varsity coach was attempting to put together another team and they wanted to know if I would join them. Basketball was always my favorite sport and I was disappointed when the team disbanded after just a few games. To join the new league the team had to have eight players and they only had seven. I looked at Elle and she gave me one of those resigned “I can’t stop you” looks so I told them I’d give it another try. I wasn’t prepared for the next practice to be in the morning and immediately wondered if I hadn’t made a mistake.

The new coach was a really good athlete. He was a three sport letterman in high school and played varsity football in college. I learned that I’d actually seen him play a few times as his college played against Elle’s college. As opposed to the way we’d attempted to prepare the previous year this time it was structured and he, like a good coach should, made an assessment of our skills. I’d never been a good offensive player but was good on defense so that was to be my main job. Only the coach was in decent shape so the rest of us were sucking wind after fifteen minutes. Leaving the gym around noon I knew I’d be feeling the pain for the next few days. The good thing was that we had two weeks until our first game... if we all lasted that long.

I’ve avoided mentioning Jerry, the new guy at work, but after writing so much about him figured I better give a bit of an update on just how he was accepted by the people he had to work with... and the customers. After just a few days the tellers were snickering behind his back. Trish and Lorie were still the backbone of the Polish Mafia even though there were only four left and Trish told me that after just a few days Lorie was trying to avoid him. Her own appraisal was that he was “wishy washy”... something both Bret and I agreed with. Bret had overheard him as he opened a new account and knew immediately that he had given the customer wrong information. I’d been noticing Bret taking a much more assertive role and this was another case of it as he stepped in and corrected the situation. A day or two later it was a totally different situation as Jerry wouldn’t open an account that the customer wanted even though the customer’s husband had one. I was the one who got involved. I tried not to embarrass him too badly in front of the customer as I did what had been requested. He did make a half hearted attempt to protest but quickly backed off. When the customer left I turned to him and asked why he’d refused to open the account. I can’t give you his exact words but I did hear him say that his old bank didn’t open those type accounts. As you already know I didn’t have a good feeling about him to begin with and hearing those type words... I blew my ‘stack’.

To be continued...  

  

ANOTHER YEAR... onward! (Part 152d)

ANOTHER YEAR... onward! (Part 152d)

Moira was about to get up and leave when I asked her to wait. Bret had gotten up from his desk so I felt a little more comfortable talking with her with no one listening. I can’t remember my exact words but basically I told her I was surprised to find her daughter there when I walked in. I thought her eyes would pop out of her head. I remember her almost jumping out of the chair and, after a few seconds, with a scowl, asking if anyone else was there. There was no way I could avoid answering a direct question like that but I do believe my facial expression gave the answer before my voice did. That caused her to jump up and swear. “Was there a red car?” I nodded affirmatively. “That SOB! I told him to stay away from her!” I knew she was Irish but I’d not seen that Irish temper before. The only negative emotion I’d witnessed was for her to cry. There was nothing I could say to calm her down as I didn’t know anything about her comment and I was in no position to ask. At that point she started to turn and to leave. I didn’t know how to respond and what to say so I said something really stupid... “Im sorry...”

In writing this I’m not really sure what I was sorry about. Was it that I told Moira about finding her daughter in the unit? Was it that the girl had disobeyed her mother? Was it that the situation was something that she didn’t need at this time in her life? In any case she gave me a half smile and went on her way.

On the ‘home front’, with Elle teaching full time there hadn’t been much time devoted to socializing. She’d seen Pat, the PTA (parent teachers association) lady, in and around the school quite often. With the new changes in the school board, requests from the PTA had been more favorably received than in the past. One major one was to create a program of adult education courses at the school in the evenings. It had been approved to started right after the first of the year. The initial ones included beginning guitar, introduction to golf and a basic writing class. But Pat, ever ambitious, was pushing for more, a major fund raising event to be held at the school. She’d been turned down by the previous administration but now things were looking better for it. She’d envisioned having a series of fun, competitive events pitting teachers against parents. The idea was that it would generate not only money but also interest from the student body. She was canvassing the teachers to see who would compete and had gotten Elle to commit. But she also wanted to resurrect ‘the group’ to strategize for the next school board election. I was for the competition part but had reservations about ‘the group’ reconveneing. I’d had enough of that... or had I?

Elle signed up for the guitar course and I for the golf. I expected to see more men than women in the golf program and found myself only one of three males. Of the half dozen women I didn’t know but one. As I looked at them I spied two that were definite candidates to provide VPL’s. Both had nice round bottoms and decent figures. After the instructor went through the general program we were given the opportunity to swing a golf club at wiffle balls. As I watched others put their balls down onto the mat with the rubber golf tee I envisioned some really good VPL’s and also the possibility of a few DP’s as the weeks progressed.

A ‘motor head’ since my early teens, I enjoyed working on cars and motors. However, there were some things I couldn’t do without special equipment. When I lived in the mobile home I could go up to my friend James’ service station to work on my car(s). Now, living ten miles away, it wasn’t all that convenient. The nearest place was at the service garage run by the father my racecar friend, Cliffy, and that was about three miles away. The rear oil seal on my transmission had been leaking for a while but not bad enough that I felt it was a problem... until one morning when I noticed the back of my car was covered with oil. With a lack of oil I would ruin the transmission. It was decision time.

I hadn’t seen Cliffy since before Christmas and when I did he told me that he probably wouldn’t be racing the next season. His father had decided that it was too expensive. When I called to see if and when I could bring my car in he told me to bring it in that Saturday. At the shop I could see the racecar over in a corner covered with dust. The first thing I did was to ask if there had been any change in his plans since the last time I saw him. He told me that he and the guys who worked on his pit crew at the races were going to buy it from his father... and then asked if I wanted to join them. I couldn’t have been more surprised.

All his father wanted was $1,000. Between the five of them they had $800 and needed $200 more. There was no question that I missed being around the race track but $200 at a time I was trying to scrimp the money together to go to Florida AND to take Elle on a special trip for our anniversary was out of the question. But, and this is important... I didn’t say “No.” The ‘seed’ had been planted and they didn’t need an answer for a few months. It took about two hours to fix the seal and it only cost me the price of the seal itself. I thought it was really nice of Cliffy not to change me labor but, as you’ll see, his generosity came at a price. I won’t lie and say that the thought of being co-owner of a racecar in the top class didn’t have my full attention. Besides Cliffy, I knew four of the other guys and one of them, like Cliffy, was a high school classmate of Elle. Driving home that afternoon I suddenly realized that my biggest problem wasn’t going to be the money but it would be Elle.

To be continued...   

ANOTHER YEAR... onward! (Part 152c)

ANOTHER YEAR... onward! (Part 152c)

It was funny, standing in the doorway again. I could still picture the girl as she jumped up from the lap of the boy. She was almost turned enough for me to see her whole front. Her blouse had been unbuttoned and I could see the flesh above the panty waist elastic. I tried to remember if I’d seen her bra but couldn’t. The boy had nothing to cover his privates. It was obvious to me that the girl had her panties on while they 'indulged'. The only thing the boy could do was to put one of his hands over his now limp penis while trying to reach for his pants. If it weren’t for my overriding concern for Moira I probably would’ve laughed.

The back half of the mobile home was similar to the last one I’d owned. From the living room back there were two small bedrooms with the bathroom next and ending with the master bedroom. On my way over I’d given a little thought to checking out Moira’s lingerie drawer again. However, the events of the early afternoon had changed my mind on that. The layout of the bathroom was very similar to mine with the washing machine just inside the door and to the right. The toilet was next and then the tub. Walking in I saw blouses and shirts hanging from the shower curtain bar. There was a wooden folding clothes rack standing in the tub  with t-shirts, shorts, socks and boys underwear draped all over it. Not one to pass up an opportunity to take a peek I pulled some of the front items aside hoping to see some feminine unmentionables. The first look garnered a big fat nothing. Pulling back the second row a bit I saw a couple of bikini panties on the back rung. My first instinct was to grab at least one to do an inspection but the clothes on the front two rungs made it difficult to see what I was actually grabbing, so I backed out. I was on my knees right in front of the toilet as I gave up my quest. Pulling my head from under some t-shirts I was looking down and onto the bottom rung. Right in front was what looked like a rag. It wasn’t hung on the rack as the others were, spread out so it could dry, but just thrown over the rung. I don’t know why I focused on it but just as I was about to get up and tackle the toilet I thought I saw lingerie elastic. I reached for it and immediately saw that I had a pair of bikini panties in my hand. I unraveled them and my attention went right to the crotch. It was wet. I looked inside the panties and could see that the wetness came from fresh cum. It suddenly came to me that the reason that she’d lagged behind the boy when leaving the unit was so she could change her panties.

I checked the label and saw they were what I called ‘common’ panties with no brand name. When I went to drape them back over the rack I was smiling but not for long. I decided that it would probably be a good idea to tell Moira that her daughter was in the unit when I arrived. If I didn’t and the daughter told Moira about some man just walking in it had the possibility of being embarrassing for me. BUT... that thought created a new conundrum... how much should I tell Moira? I was looking down at the toilet and the contents and knew I had to make an attempt to tackle it. I figured that I could come up with something to tell Moira on the way back to the bank.

My attempts at clearing the sewer line were unsuccessful. I could feel the ‘snake’ was up against something solid and no matter how I pushed and twisted it I couldn’t get it to go any further. By the time I gave up I was late for getting back to the bank. On my way there I pretty much decided I’d just tell Moira that I’d been surprised to find her daughter there and nothing more. Walking through the lobby it had been my intention to go right upstairs to tell her of my failure and about seeing her daughter. I never made it to the stairs.

Bret came running up to me and the concern on his brow told me there was more than a little problem. Almost as soon as I’d left the building the bank lost communication with the data center. Bret knew to call the computer room and to report such disruptions to George, the DP manager but when he did was told he was in a meeting. He went on to say he’d asked for Albie but all he was told was to leave a message. I’d handled most of the disruptions in the past and the various secretaries knew my name and knew that if I said it was an emergency they were to find the requested party, post haste. Bret didn’t have that same name recognition and had been left without a resolution when he called. It took me almost an hour to get it all squared away and by then Moira and her problem was a distant memory. Then, I had to focus on regular bank business.

As I watched the Trustees file in for their regular monthly meeting I, internally, reviewed my contempt for most of them. I didn’t see Moira make the turn from the lobby towards my desk and was surprised (and embarrassed) to see her. Bret had just turned towards me to ask a question and heard Moira ask if her plumbing problem was as easy to fix as I’d made it out to be. I remember not answering with words but just made a ‘face’ to indicate that it had not gone well. Moira, without hesitating, asked/demanded to know what she was to do adding, again, that she didn’t have the money for a plumber. Bret jumped right in and offered to call his neighbor who was also the plumber for the bank. When Moira protested he said he’d speak to the man and they would work something out as far as payment was concerned. Hearing that Moira relaxed a bit and, thankfully, took a seat. We both waited to hear the results to Bret’s call and it was a positive one. The plumber would be there sometime between 5:30pm and 6pm. With that resolved I was again debating with myself as to telling Moira about her daughter’s presence when I arrived.

To be continued...

ANOTHER YEAR... onward! (Part 152b)

ANOTHER YEAR... onward! (Part 152b)

I can’t say for certain that Moira was avoiding me but it almost seemed like it. Her office, if you could call it that, was in the far recesses of the second floor. When I visited the second floor the only way to see her was to walk through the entire mortgage department, through the back half of the accounting area and then down four steps into what was really a file room. When she was hired it was the only area available. So, when she showed up at my desk one lunch period I was pleased. I asked if Gee (the Trustee/attorney) had made any progress on getting the mess with her former house straightened out. That brought a bit of a smile to her face and she told me that Gee thought he’d been able to track down her husband. For her to get any money back from the down payment she and her husband had made on their house he’d have to sign the formal complaints against the mortgage broker, seller and company that had issued their mortgage. I got the distinct impression that she didn’t think that would ever happen but offered that if it did she was in line to get back some $1,500 or so. But that wasn’t why she was at my desk.

She was there to tell me that the brothers who owned the mobile home park where she was living had sold it. I knew there was talk that they might. She was concerned about it for a number of reasons. First was the fact that the unit she was renting was owned by the brothers and they had worked out a 'deal' with Moira on the rent for the space. The new owner wanted her to be paying the going rate and she just couldn’t afford it. I told her I felt a call to Brucie, one of the brothers, could/would take care of that. The second was more of an immediate problem. The new owner was not going to be selling new or used units so let the maintenance man go. Not only did he work on setting up new units and preparing the trade-ins for sale but the brothers made extra money by making him available to take care of problems that residents had with their units. Moira had a sewer back up and had no idea how to go about unclogging it other than with a plunger which hadn’t worked. I’d done just that sort of work when I lived in the park and knew that a ‘plumber’s snake’ would probably take care of it. I started to ask if she’d called a plumber and she said she didn’t have the cash to pay one so hadn’t. That’s when she gave me one of those ‘looks’ that said “Would you PLEASE do me a favor and take a look at it?”

Aside from not having a ‘snake’ I felt it really wasn’t all that much of a problem. I asked if she was headed home for lunch since she lived just six or seven minutes away. She said that she couldn’t because she was working on a project with Bette for the Trustees meeting. When I told her I wouldn’t be able do it after work she immediately reached in her purse and pulled out a set of keys. All I could so was smile and reach for them. A cheap ‘plumbers snake’ was around $5 or $6 and there was a hardware store just down the street. A quick stop and I was on my way. I’d helped her move in so knew exactly where her unit was. There was a car parked out in front so I backed up and took the first empty space. I had the ‘snake’ in one hand and the keys in the other as I climbed the three steps to the door. Without hesitating I put the key in the door handle and turned it. Only three steps in I had to stop.

Like almost everybody else I’ve unwittingly thrust myself into embarrassing situations and this was one of those times. Right smack in front of me was a girl with reddish brown hair down to her shoulders straddling the bare legs of an unseen person. She had on a blouse and bikini panties but that was all I could see. The sight unnerved me enough that I let go of the door handle and it opened far enough to hit the doorstop. When it did the girl let out a scream and jumped up and off the boy leaving him fully exposed (but ‘deflated’). He, seeing me, reached back trying to grab his pants while the girl picked up her skirt from the floor. With them preoccupied I quickly pulled the door shut behind me as I headed back to my car. I was about to start it up when it came to that I’d done nothing wrong. I sat there observing the situation and after about five minutes the boy came out and got in the car parked out in front of the unit. I thought he was going to leave when I heard the motor start but he just sat there. A few minutes later the girl appeared and got in the car and they drove on down the street.

I was conflicted as to what to do. Going in and fixing the toilet wasn't the question... it was what, if anything, to say to Moira. Going back to when I helped her find a place to live I was aware that she, as a single parent, had her hands full with her two teen aged kids. The boy, a senior in high school, had been particularly upset about moving because he was on the varsity football team as a starter at his old school. He was leaving friends... again. (Moira told me that the latest move was the fourth since he started junior high school.) At the current school he was only a substitute player. The girl had always seemed sullen to me. During the move she sulked and pouted and was of little help. She was only 15 and a sophomore. I never got a good look at the boy either in the house or when he was getting in his car so didn’t have much of an idea of how old he was. I still hadn’t made up my mind when I headed back inside. A glance at my watch told me I better get the problem fixed quickly or I’d be late getting back to work.

To be continued...