Archive for July, 2009

The end of my first 20 years

July 23, 2009

Shortly after our dinner date Shannon and I said our goodbyes and I headed north to Montana.  I had been accepted as a freshman into the University of Montana, at Missoula, for the fall term of 1960.

I am going to end my recollections here because now my past life is merging into my current life.  My whole outlook on the world changed during my one year at college.  Vietnam was heating up and, since my grades weren’t the most spectacular, I had fears of the coming draft.  I didn’t fear the actual service of my country, I simply wanted for it to be of my own choosing, not coming from an IBM card popping into a slot somewhere.

After my single year I had performed enough self-analysis to see that academic life just wasn’t for me.  I was definitely not what you would call scholarly, I wanted to get out and see the world, and not stay hunkered down in hallways surrounded by books.  I visited my parents again and, since I was soon to be nineteen, grabbed my birth certificate and went shopping for a Uniformed Service to join.  I settled on the Navy.  Their placement tests, and my own hobbies, had shown the way to my future.

I hope I haven’t shocked anyone, because it certainly wasn’t my intention.  I tried to be factual in my recall of events.  The events themselves most certainly took place and certain details may have been guessed at, but only to the extent that a lot of “I don’t remember” or “I may have done this” just doesn’t provide the proper narrative flow.  Conversations may not have been exactly as quoted, but followed the gist.  Recollected talk from over fifty years ago gets hazy with time.  Names, for the most part, are correct except where noted.  Kathleen did exist.  I don’t know what happened to her after I left.  I hope she has had a full life.  She was my very first love and confidant.

I once heard from my friend Benny that Virginia did indeed marry her young airman and now they are retired with three children and several grandchildren.  She was my first lover and “Earth Angel”.

I’ve been back to Stadt just once, in the early 80’s, but nothing remains of the farmhouse on the beautiful farm of Wolfgang and Hilde.  There is a piece of the barn foundation left on the side of the hill, but the house itself is gone.

Danni was a wonderful person who helped me back into the land of the living after Virginia’s devastating departure.  The inn has been replaced by a parking garage, and nobody nearby even remembers what became of the owners.

I still keep in touch with Shannon.  She’s happily married and still living in the same town she grew up in and I graduated from.  My best wishes to her.

I am married now and have been for over forty-six years.  I have a family complete with grandkids.  My wife is my faithful lover and always will be.

A few web sites have sprung up on which you can search out old friends.  I have decided that I would not attempt to find anyone I once knew because if I did, only old memories would be found, not new ones and I’m always ready for a new memory.

The stories I’ve recalled were mostly the high (and low) points of my youth.  My family was an adventurous lot that went places and did things all the time.  We would go on vacations in the summer, take weekend trips all the time, and generally have a good time together.

I have a store of many more memories that would bear relating if anyone is interested.  Living, as I did, in such diverse places as the Territory of Alaska, Washington, Germany, and California gives one a great view of life itself.  My life in the Navy was a great adventure.  I can’t talk about the job much, but when we were off watch we became really wild and crazy guys.  I served in places like Pensacola, Florida; Lajes, Azores; Ft. Meade, MD; San Miguel, Philippines; USS Oxford; Pensacola, Florida; Vietnam; Ramasun, Thailand; Misawa, Japan; and Skaggs Island, California.

T.O.M.

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Racing my VW and a final girlfriend

July 19, 2009

In the late fifties, VW’s were not imported into the US.  Every one of them had come from a serviceman returning from Europe.  My dad had shipped our family car (a VW bus) and mine at the same time.  His was destined for New Jersey so we could use it to cross the US and mine sent to Oakland.  On our trip across the country, every time a VW would come towards us, headlights would flash.  I only remember a total of about ten or eleven other VW’s on the entire trip.

Neither car had a gas gauge.  Instead, they were fitted with a control that you could activate manually which gave you about a gallon and half more gas.  You ran with the control set normally until you actually ran out of gas.  Then you pushed the control over into reserve and re-started the car; or coasted in gear until the engine fired again.  Given the mileage we both enjoyed (35 to 40 mpg) we could begin hunting for a gas station and be reasonably assured of finding one before finally running out of gas.

My car’s gas tank was under the hood.  It had a huge twist-off top and, when you dipped the specially calibrated plastic stick into it, you could tell with good accuracy how much gas you had left.  I had also discovered that if I were to put the spare tank control in the middle position I would “run out of gas” in about a mile or so.  This, I decided, was a Really Good Deal.  Other guys could try and fake running out gas on a lonely road, but I could actually DO it.

The ‘car club’ crowd ignored me completely as they just figured I had a toy car.  They had no idea that my little toy car could hit over 90 on a straight road and was finely tuned for Autobahn driving – where there were no speed limits – and had a great gear ratio that matched the simple thirty-six horse, four cylinder engine..  They pretty much left me alone after I showed up at the track on public day (where anyone could enter a car in the time trials) and blew the doors off half the guys in their stupid club.  I was consistently in the mid-ranges of time for a quarter, and, should we have been allowed to go side-by-side, I would have beaten them off the line every time.  Their heavy cars and giant engines produced tons of burnt rubber and failed to move them forward at the green light.  My little ‘toy’ car would grab the cement with a little chirp and accelerate immediately as I ran through the gears.  Eventually, my dad heard about the racing and told me to stop.  I did too, as I didn’t want to hurt the car – too hard to find parts in 1958 for a VW.

Our auto shop teacher was very intrigued by my car too.  He gave me permission to being it into the shop for a week and I allowed all his classes to look around, into and under it.  The engine was the most interesting to them.  I showed him how to change the oil, pull off the valve covers and adjust valves, and to generally take good mechanical care of it.

Before we left Germany, my dad and I both went downtown to the garage where we had our cars serviced and studied repairs every evening for two weeks under the stern eye of Herr Busch.  We must have done at least ten or fifteen oil changes and valve adjustments.  My dad even got to help rebuild an engine while I watched closely.  I got to pull an engine out, replace a clutch disk, and reinstall it.  In later years, I could do this operation in under an hour.  We both learned pretty much everything about those little cars.  Lucky we did because there was not one single VW repair shop in the whole San Francisco area.  Any parts we needed had to be specially ordered direct from Germany and would take as much as six weeks to arrive.

Eventually, my sophomore and junior high school years passed and I rolled into my senior year.   During that time I never really had a girlfriend.  I had a few girl friends, but none that really took my heart like Kathleen, Virginia, or Danni.  The local girls here were nice, but some were pretty vain and self-centered.  The world revolved around them and getting close to any one of them was really difficult as they tended to form cliques.  I even learned how to surf just so I could be on the beach with their well-rounded tops and bottoms (cowabunga!).  I did my first (and last) spinner when one of the girls’ tops got pulled off by the surf.

I nearly finished High School without a serious girlfriend until the last couple of weeks in my senior year.  I found that reverting back to my European manners was strangely attractive to my some of my female classmates.  One, in particular, whom I had observed from afar but couldn’t work up the courage to ask for a date for some reason, said “yes” when I asked her to a graduation dinner my parents were throwing for me at a little restaurant in Sonoma.

Because she still lives in the same area, I will call her Shannon.  She was a quiet girl and, I think, a little of an outsider like me.  She lived very close to the school so there was no opportunity to drive her home or anything like that.  I had to devise other reasons to see her.  I was really attracted to her.  I found that my manners also impressed her family because they wouldn’t let her go with me on a date until they had met me.  I really turned on the Old World charm for them.  I had to be on my good behavior because my parents had moved yet again to Montana at the beginning of my senior year and I was staying with friends of my family across town.  I wouldn’t do for me to make an ass of myself.

Shannon and I only kissed once, in the very romantic back garden of the old mill used as the restaurant.  It was a chaste kiss, but I felt it down to my toes.  I had resisted falling in love again because of the serviceman’s curse – “do you really like it here?  Then get ready to move.” I simply didn’t want to go through that again with her.  She was very nice, and fun to be with, but even if she felt nothing for me, I would feel sad to be once again leaving something of me behind.  We parted friends and still remain so even now.

T.O.M.

Goodbye Danni and hello California

July 13, 2009

My relationship with Danni soon moved into a second stage.  Our first stage was pretty platonic.  We enjoyed traveling, and just being with each other with no actual sexual overtones. As she became more proficient in English, she and I were becoming closer and I realized my attraction to her began to change from platonic into something a little closer to love.  I hesitate to use the word love in this context so soon after the departure of Virginia, but that’s the closest word in either language.

One evening as the four of us sat around the table sipping our after dinner wine, Otto lit his pipe and happened to mention that my old room was available tonight if I wished to stay for the evening.  Herta glanced between Otto and I, and rolled her eyes towards Danni, who blushed and looked at her plate.  I didn’t stammer any more when presented with a potentially embarrassing situation so I put my hand on Danni’s, turned to Otto and told him that I would like to stay the night, but I would like to be alone for a while right now.  He nodded and told me to take my time, the room would be there all evening.

I lifted my wine in salute to Danni and went into the small lobby where I sat down and faced the fire.  I began to weigh my feelings.  I still carried a lot of love for Virginia even though she had giver hers to another guy.  Danni, on the other hand was here, and not in Italy.  My circular argument with myself whirled on in my head until a hand dropped softly on my shoulder.  Danni had come to join me.

I held her hand as she rounded the chair and sat down on the footstool in front of me.  We both faced the fire as I dropped my hands to her shoulders.  We didn’t say a word, not one word, but I stood up, set down my glass, and lifted her to her feet.  She turned around and kissed me tenderly, and we walked hand in hand up the stairs to my room.

I tried my best not to compare Danni with Virginia but the effort became difficult at times.  Danni had a lust for life that spilled over into her lovemaking.  Nothing seemed to bother or embarrass her at all.  Over a few visits she taught me quite a few more ways to please a woman.  I also found that there are many more ways too, for them to please a man.  We began expanding our knowledge by simple experimentation.  Each new thing I learned was filed away mentally for future use.  She and I had a wonderful time together.  She knew that my time was going to be short as my dad’s three years was almost up but that didn’t appear to bother her.  Maybe it was me that loved too heartily and heavily.  Maybe she had the right idea after all – love the one you’re with because there may not be another.

My dad had told us a month before that we were going to California, but not, exactly when.  One day he said that we had just six weeks left.  I went downtown and told Otto, Herta and Danni the news.  We were a bit sad, but I wasn’t as torn up as I had been when Virginia left.  Danni’s English was pretty good now but she reverted to “you are sad feeling for me, yes?”  I hugged her to me and told her “yes, I have sad feeling for you Danni”. That evening we made love for the last time and I never saw her again.  We both wanted it that way.  I hope she married and did well for herself over the years.

This time we were flying over the Atlantic instead of on a pokey ship.  Since jets hadn’t been put into transatlantic use as of yet (in MATS – Military Air Transport Service), we drew a four-engine C-118 for our travels.  This thing was really slow despite the four roaring propellers on the wings.  We didn’t have much range either as we had to stop at Shannon, Ireland and Gander, Newfoundland, on the way to McGuire AFB, New Jersey.  Still, fifteen hours beats two weeks any time.

Following the obligatory visiting of the relatives as we crossed the U.S., we hit our new home in Northern California just a week before the first day of school in our town.  I knew I was in trouble the moment I entered the general population.  My European attitude towards most anything grated on everyone’s nerves and I became a pariah almost from the beginning.  It started by me opening my big mouth in German class (which I was lucky to get into) and began to rattle off my greetings to the teacher.  She had hardly understood a word I said.  She haughtily informed me that she spoke ‘high’ German and my language was guttural to her finely tuned ear since I had learned mine ‘down south’.  Well, holy cow, please excuse me.  This entire conversation, having been in German, went right over the heads of my classmates.

Not getting her point, I pressed onwards trying to draw the class into the conversation.  This was a huge mistake because they didn’t understand at all – much less want to converse with Mr. Know-it-all.  I finally sputtered to a stop, uttered an apology – in German – and shut up; totally embarrassed.

This performance was broadcast around the school in nanoseconds.  I was greeted with mock-German gibberish as well as other more common epithets known to teens everywhere (brown nose, nerd, and the ever popular dickhead).  I struggled to fit in, but just didn’t make it at all.

Insult was added to injury when I was informed that I had to take driver education before I could get my driver’s license in California.  It was the law.  Now, I had been driving for almost a whole year while in Germany and had even taken a road trip over into Belgium, Holland, and The Netherlands the previous summer.  Hell, I even brought my car (a Volkswagen convertible) back with me.  It hadn’t arrived yet, but it could come any day now.  Now I was being told I couldn’t drive?  What stupidity was this?  I enrolled in the class and endured sheer terror as fledgling drivers careered around corners, burnt rubber (starting and stopping – remember stick shift cars?), and generally made you feel you should kiss ground after every lesson.  After my first turn at the wheel, the teacher told me I couldn’t drive any more because I didn’t need it; then added that I would still have to endure the three weeks of the class.  No getting away from it.

Finally, the class ended, I went for my test, passed it, and put away my International Drivers License so I could use my new California one.  In what I thought was only several centuries, the little car finally arrived.  The fact that it had to go through the Panama Canal to get here from Europe explained why it took so long.

The very first day I arrived in the student’s parking lot in my strange little car everyone clustered around to take a look.  When I opened the hood to take out my books, the first thing they noticed was that I didn’t have an engine.  This was a cause of great concern because every car had to have an engine.  I pointed to the back and told them the engine was in the rear.  When I got out and lifted the lid, hoots of derision resounded from the male side of the gallery.  “You call that an engine?” was the most common comment.  “How do you wind it up?” was another favorite.  I was much more interested in the female onlookers, whose comments were in the order of “What a cute car!” and “Let’s go for a ride!”  I was often seen after school with as many as seven giggling girls stuffed into the front bucket seat and the small back seat as we headed to the soda shop.  The guys were not impressed.  What did impress them was that I never seemed to have to stop for gas.  Even at twenty-seven cents a gallon, it rarely cost me more than three dollars to fill it up.

T.O.M.

Yes, I am bad feeling

July 8, 2009

In one minute, in early fall, Virginia’s and my world came crashing down.  Her dad told her that his request for extension here at Stadt had been denied – they were moving to Italy in one month.  Thirty days; a twelfth of a year; Seven hundred and twenty hours; forty-three thousand and two hundred minutes and she would be gone.  Oh, great god Eros, why have you done this to us?

I was again faced with telling a loved one goodbye.  This time it was she that was leaving.  We spent every waking, non-school moment in each other’s company.  Her friends tried to console her, as mine did for me.  We were happy for any given moment together, but always had the shadow of parting hanging over us.  We clung to each other as never before.  She even tried to talk me into making love to her without protection.  We convinced ourselves from the very edge of the bed that something like that was never a good idea.  It would cause our parents grief and maybe even drive a wedge between the two of us.  She tearfully agreed after a bit; realizing it was selfish, and admitted that the wisdom of a far older person (me, who was only six months older than her) was a good thing.

We tried to have fun in the four weeks left, but there are only 24 hours a day and you have to attend school and sleep.  Sometimes we managed to sleep together by telling our parents we were at a friend’s house but as I look back I doubt very much they believed us.  They would just look somber and say something like “have fun” or, in my dad’s case “bon chance”.  He knew right off I wasn’t over at Billy-Bob-John’s house because he gave me a bigger box of condoms.

Virginia’s mom was not fooled either.  She couldn’t have failed to notice the bloom in her daughter’s cheeks, the change in her demeanor to even more outgoing and conversational.  She had to know Virginia and I were sleeping together ever since the Paris trip.  What worried me the most was what if her dad also knew?  Would he run over me with a D-8?

On our previous town wanderings, Virginia and I had found a great little seven-room inn in downtown Stadt that made us feel like honored guests every time I called to book a room.  Since school had again started, we could only stay there on a weekend, but that still gave us four weekends and we made the most of them.  We would call for the room around nine in the evening on Friday and show up about five the next day after spending the time poking around Stadt.

By now, I was fluent enough in German to be able to carry on full conversations.  I had suddenly found myself thinking in German.  This was a trait that Mr. Espana told me that would come once you completely immersed yourself in a language.  Virginia wasn’t quite a good as me, but could listen and understand conversation pretty well.  She just couldn’t speak without an accent.  We told the inn owners we were secretly married but I don’t think they believed us.  It didn’t matter because Herta and Otto treated us as their ‘kinder’ (children).

We would quietly go up to our room where we would undress each other and slip under the huge down-filled comforters thrown over the bed.  As the days marched onward, we would catch each other with tears in our eyes and try our best to keep from dwelling on Der Tag, as we called it.  Our lovemaking sessions began to take on a sense of urgency that neither one of us could quench.  One night we didn’t make love at all but simply held to each other tightly as we waited for dawn and once it broke, made love just once in the beam of sunlight from an open window curtain.  Since she was on top, the golden glow highlighted her entire body.  The light fuzz down her spine appeared to stand up and cheer as we climaxed together.

But, even completely wonderful things are sometimes forced to end.  We said our final farewells at the same train station that had started us on our spiritual and sexual journey.  All movie clichés aside, we pledged to love each other forever through an open window as the train moved off.  There wasn’t a dry eye anywhere near us that day.  Even my stoic dad had to turn away and remove a cinder.

I contacted Herta and Otto once more and told them that Virginia had moved away to Italy.  They were concerned enough to invite me down for dinner one Saturday evening.  This turned into a tradition where at least twice a month I would tell my folks I was going downtown for dinner and head to the inn.  After a few weeks, a very pretty girl named Danni appeared for dinner.  She spoke not a word of English but explained that she was going to take the language next period in school.  I offered to help.  She turned out to be Otto’s niece and that she wasn’t dating right now according to him.

I know he meant well, and I wouldn’t have hurt either his or Herta’s feelings, so I asked her to go out with me.  She and I began a light relationship that consisted mostly of visiting various museums around the area and watching sporting events like soccer.  I didn’t have the same sort of feelings for her as I did Virginia so I didn’t really feel like I was being untrue.

I was still corresponding with Virginia, but lately the letters were coming more infrequently.  They also had less and less endearing prose and more simple chatter.  I felt that I was losing her.  One day, about three months after Virginia left, I received my farewell letter.  She had met a young airman that was older than she and had fallen in love with him.  I suppose I should have felt sadness, but I think I really saw it coming.  Teens are nothing if they aren’t resilient.  I like to think I bounced back nicely, but I bet I didn’t fool anyone very much.

The next time I saw Danni she detected my morose attitude and said “you are bad feeling, yes?”  It was the first English she had ever spoken to me and she blushed as she said it.  I didn’t have the heart to correct her but just confirmed, “Yes, I am bad feeling”.  She came over to me, wrapped her arms around me and held on while I snuffled into the hollow of her neck.  In a minute or so I kissed her on the cheek and told her I was okay.  We wandered hand in hand out into the garden at the back of the inn in silence.

The next time I kissed her, it was on her lips, and she kissed back.

T.O.M.

Oktoberfest – Part 2

July 3, 2009

That evening we took things easy by joining the rest of our group in one of the separate dining rooms for dinner.  It was a lively group even considering all the excitement of the day.  A few of the more hardy souls were primed to go back out after dinner and do some more celebrating, but our group of teens elected to do some dancing in the hotel ballroom.

Group dancing has never been my favorite, but I was willing to share in the merriment of the evening.  A dance instructor showed the crowd how to do some of the more basic dance steps of traditional German folk dancing.  My favorite was the Zwiefacher which is a kind of waltz combined with some extra whirls or pivots.  You don’t get very close but you certainly do have fun; and Polkas are there to get everyone tapping their feet.

After a couple of hours of fast, slow, and moderate dancing we were pretty much beat so we all said our goodbyes and headed up to our respective rooms.  I walked Virginia up to her room and, as I was giving her a goodnight kiss, Molly’s mom went by and gave us the fisheye.  She had no idea the fun we were having.  The two of us made plans to go on a picture taking trip the next day.

When breakfast was over, Virginia and I left on our tour.  We had rented bicycles so we packed a small lunch provided by our friends in the kitchen and pedaled off.  As I said before, Virginia was nutty about churches.  She headed this way and that locating promising spires on the horizon and finding streets and alleys that took her there.  I was thoroughly lost after the third of fourth church.

We stopped at a little one block park and had our lunch sitting on a stone bench near a small pond filled with swans.  Once they noticed we had food, they would gather and threaten to beat our brains out with their wings if we didn’t share.  We finally had to retreat to a band kiosk to escape them.  After lunch, we started out again.

I was more interested in architecture than anything else.  Odd shaped buildings, carved lintels and fancy fountains were what I liked to shoot.  Somewhere, I still have a great picture of Virginia standing on the lip of a fountain with her hand outstretched.  She appears to be holding the spray from the fountain in her closed fist.  She didn’t know until I developed it that a stone lion was behind her and about to take a bite out of her shapely behind.

I found a model train store down one alley.  I have always been fascinated by trains and German manufacturers make some of the finest models in the world.  I wandered the store taking in all the models until Virginia called to me.  She pointed to a box with a picture of a saddle tank locomotive on it.  She said she thought that this looked just like the engine Hans and Gerd drove.  Except for some minor details, it was an exact copy of it.  It was reasonably priced so I bought it.

Weary, but happy, we made out way back to the hotel around the early afternoon.  The signs were hung on both our doors so we shuffled down to the restaurant and dawdled over a cup of coffee each and a pastry.  Between munches and sips we held hands across the table.  As I stared into her eyes, I told myself I would do anything for her.

Our reverie was interrupted by my parents coming across the room and sitting down with us.  We sat through a description of my mom’s shopping tour and looked at the booty she had collected throughout the day.  I had to admit that she had good taste though.  I wondered where she had picked up the silver Edelweiss and asked her.  She said the shop was right down the street.  Virginia loved it and I made a mental note to take her down there tomorrow.  We excused ourselves and headed back upstairs.

We split at the fourth floor in front of my room.  She wanted to go up and take a bath before dinner.  I thought that was a great idea and offered to scrub her back.  She hesitated for a minute, and then said it wouldn’t be a good idea right now because any, or all, of the girls might be there.  I reluctantly agreed and went into my room as she walked to the elevator.

Roger and Henry were in the room lying on their respective beds.  The curtains were closed making it semi-dark so I figured they were resting up for the evening.  Gathering my toiletries, I headed for the bathroom to clean up.  This evening we were all going to go back to the carnival midway and spend some time there.

Following dinner, we all trooped down the street and into the park for some fun.  We stayed together for most of the evening with some of us taking rides while the others took pictures.  We had a great amount of fun and didn’t touch anything stronger than lemonade.  Last night’s beer was a clear memory and we didn’t really want to repeat it again so soon.  I won some stuff for Virginia at a dart throwing booth.  I was always good at darts and managed to get three of them in a row into the bullseye.  I picked a huge stuffed monkey, which she carried around on her back with the arms wrapped around her shoulders.  She predictably called it her ‘monkey on my back’.

Paula turned out to be the best shot among us though as she racked up an impressive score with a little .22 rifle.  She opted for a fake Indian headdress which began molting feathers almost as soon as she walked away from the booth.  By the time the evening was over, it had lost almost all of them and looked really strange.

We rode for a long time on a giant ferris wheel which would stop at least once to take on passengers and leave alternating cars on top with a great view.  Molly was in the car behind Virginia and I so she took a great picture of us wrapped around each other and our lips pressed together.  You couldn’t tell who it was though because she didn’t use a flash and the figures were in silhouette.  It was quite good.

We all finished up the night on a merry-go-round.  This was, by far, the largest one I had ever been on – even larger than the one at Glen Echo a few years back with Kathleen.  I didn’t mention that fact, however, to Virginia.

Eventually we headed back to the hotel.  One of us, I don’t remember who, started a song and we all took up the refrain and chorus.  Soon we had almost everyone on the sidewalk singing it.  We sounded like a scene from a musical I guess.  We quieted down as we approached the hotel and broke apart at the elevators.  The girls all went upstairs and we boys went into the bar for a nightcap.

It was packed with partygoers who were just topping off their tanks.  Almost immediately beer steins were pressed into our hands and we were dragged into the room.  It seems a large party was celebrating the engagement of two of their own and was treating all comers.  We toasted the engagees and downed the beer.  The party was showing no signs of slowing when the manager came out and told us the bar was closing in fifteen minutes.  Reluctantly, we all finished our drinks and left for our room.  When we reached our room, the message light was blinking.

I called the desk for the message and was told that Roger’s mom and dad had decided to stay the night in Nürnberg which was about a hundred miles away.  I passed this on to Roger who immediately called Cleo’s room.  Even after some shameless begging, he couldn’t convince Cleo to meet him there.  He sounded pretty disappointed when he hung up.

The phone rang again, and it was passed to me with a smirk by Wayne who mouthed ‘Virginia’ silently.  I answered and heard her speak three words: “room three-twelve” and hang up.  I was pleased at this bit of unexpected luck and gathered my toiletries and beat feet to the room.  I arrived first, and endured several minutes of scrutiny by an older couple who passed me on their way to their room presumably.  Finally, the elevator dinged and Virginia came out, looked around, and headed quickly towards me.

She had the key out before reaching the door and rapidly opened it for the two of us.  As we went in, I stuck the sign on the door ‘nicht dusturb’ which is pretty much self-explanatory.

Virginia told me she could only stay for an hour though because it was very late already and she had to be back in the room by morning.  I was a little downcast until she came over to me and wrapped her arms around my waist, wiggled her hips into mine and kissed me with our secret tongue tap.  This produced an almost instantaneous erection in me and hardened breast tips to her.  We trailed clothes all the way over to the bed and piled in.

The first time was quick and satisfying, but the second time was slower and much more fulfilling to both of us.  The afterglow lasted quite some time until I glanced at my watch and told her that the hour was almost up.  We quickly made the bed, dressed, and slipped back towards our respective rooms.

I got back into our room and told the guys that the room was free if anyone wanted it.  No takers though, they had already telephoned upstairs and found the rest of the girls were already asleep.  Good advice, we thought, and all of us dropped off to sleep.

T.O.M.