[wayne]

My Second Wife – Chapter One.

Her name is Tina. I met her on the occasion of graduation of the class of 1968. We were both freshmen. Tina was new in town, long blond hair, blue eyes, small breasts, and legs that went all the way up. A truly beautiful girl, if one can apply ‘beautiful’ to the 9th grade. (As I was to learn later, she did not have a pubic bush. It was more like a pubic National Forest.)

I was in the high school choir. We sang our songs and the graduation experience rolled along as the Seniors received their diplomas amid speeches and the kind of bull shit we have all come to understand attends a high school graduation. I slipped out the back door, put fire to a Camel, and enjoyed my short vacation from “the establishment” … it was the 60’s after all.

For some reason I will never understand, Tina followed me out the back door. We stood together, next to a large parking lot where the buses spent their nights. The first words she ever said to me were, pointing at my nose, “You’re way up there.” She thought I was ‘snooty’ because I had not spoken with her. The truth, of coarse, is that as a 9th grader I was afraid of her beauty. I was not the Alfa Male; I was just a singer in the choir and a player of the tuba. But she was the kind of girl that high school boys have wet dreams about.

The summer of my freshman year followed; I worked at my father’s truck stop, fueling big rigs, busting truck tires; at the time it had the largest canopy in Arizona; at least that is what was on the business cards. The work was hard and I didn’t like it very much, but dad was adamant that I work at his truck stop. He was also adamant that I not ‘bother’ the gasoline mechanic; dad wanted me to do something “clean” for a living and didn’t want me to become a mechanic. The mechanic would, once in a while, send me across the parking lot to the “King’s Arms” for a “Boston” coffee … mostly milk with a little coffee in it. It was next to the “King’s Inn”, a motel on old highway 66 that catered to truck drivers and the occasional lost tourist.

When my sophomore year began, I did not take wood shop or home economy or any of that bull shit; I took choir and band and the required classes. The band room (and the choir room) was one story above the wood shop and on the tale end of the girl’s gym. There was a large stage there but it had been blocked off years before and no longer served as a stage. On each side of the stage was a staircase that led back to the gym floor.
Also, on the other side of that quarter inch of plywood was the girl’s locker room.

The Man from U.N.C.L.E. was a big show in those days. Spies on TV and James Bond at the movies … it fucked with my head a little and one day I decided to try my luck. I was charged with closing the windows (on the 2nd floor) in the band room every day. One day I left the window next to the fire escape ladder unlocked. I went home, got a brace and a ¾ inch bit, and waited.

About 6 PM no one was at the high school except the janitors. The sun was still up, so dressing for night was pointless; clad in my Levis and tennis shoes I snuck back to the school, (an entire block away) climbed the fence, then climbed up the fire escape to the window I had left open and into the band room. I pulled the window closed and quickly made my way onto the closed stage in the girl’s gym. Then I applied the brace and bit … and there it was. A nice eye sized hole right into the girl’s locker room.

The janitor chose that moment to mop the band room … I ran into a closet that held the choir robes, blue and gold, and waited until my heart settled down, then snuck out the front door of the band room, down the stairs, over the fence and home.

A couple of days later I had the chance to put my eye to hole … and there she was.
Tina … naked, just getting out of the shower … a massive pubic bush growing between her legs … the other girls tired to cover their bodies but Tina couldn’t have cared less … she walked around the locker room naked, like she was proud of it, and was all of 15 years old at the time.

I got an eye full and then retreated. A few days later a fellow named Stacy, who was actually gay, got caught with his eye to my new hole. Poor Stacy was suspended for a month … he worked as a bag boy at Safeway and later snitched me off to my sister … told her I smoked cigarettes to “relax” … she ratted me off to my parents and I caught hell for it.

Stacy caught AIDS a few years later, and died from it. He did not live long enough to attend our 20-year reunion.

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