Chapter 1

My sister was the talkative one in the family. I generally just listened and kept my mouth shut because I had a habit of putting my foot in my mouth and getting my ears boxed for being a wise guy. I remember the afternoon when Cathy came home from Catholic high school and announced to all of us that some girls with dubious moral characters had been transferred into our parish school from some God-awful place in the Bronx called “Pelham Bay”. I have to be real honest and admit I had never heard of the place before but I was still wet behind the ears and one could not set store in my lack of ignorance about such matters.

Our neighborhood was reputed to be one of the toughest Irish Catholic areas in New York City and had the unusual designation of “Hell’s Kitchen”. That title never failed to send shivers up my spine every time I heard it. We hardly ever talked about street names or avenues or boulevards around the city. When we talked about a destination, it was to places with names like “Jew-town”, “The Village” or “Little Italy”. We all knew the general direction of all those places but the unfamiliar “Pelham Bay” was a new one on me.

My sister was a pretty little thing.

Cathy was short. I mean real short. Sometimes it didn’t seem like she belonged in high school at all because her height was that of some girl that should still be in elementary school. I knew she was tough as nails and could scratch a girl’s eyes out as soon as look at her. She knew little tricks about kicking boys in their weak spots and bringing them down to the pavement so she could grab hold of their hair and bounce their skulls on the metal curb. Our parents didn’t suspect it, but she had a mouth on her that was worse than a longshoreman’s and she hid her foul smelling cigarettes inside her bra which was otherwise empty because she hadn’t really developed yet in that area.

I had recently graduated from high school and was working a job at the post office sorting mail sitting on a high stool and working mostly late at night to get the letters all ready for the carriers to hump them to the letter boxes early the next morning. I worked out of a place near Grand Central, but the letters were all addressed to odd names like “Hudson” or “Chelsea” or “Canal”. It was before the invention of zip codes or machines that did it by automation and only the human eye and hand was there to speed it on its way. I was glad that I didn’t work out in Queens or even out on “The Island” which was less like an island and more like the country up north of Yonkers way out in the sticks. My Uncle, the cop, had gotten me the job and all I had to do was show up on time and punch my card, sort the letters, and keep my mouth shut and my hands off the female employees because that was not allowed working for the government in those days.

Despite the fact I was a full two years older than my sister, I was still a despicable virgin and I was certain she had the edge on me because I had seen her trading her cigarettes for condoms from her best buddy Trudi. I knew for a fact that Trudi was all clued in on matters of sexual unions because my friend Ralph told me both he and that jerk Jimmy Gallagher had “done” her in the movie on a Saturday matinee morning when they had escaped the clutches of the chaperone that was supposed to herd all the juveniles together in a noisy section away from the horrors of the smoking section and the free hands in the back row. Trudi was good at finding ways to get what she wanted and in this case it was Ralph and Jimmy with their flies open and their arousal only inches away from her soft white skin on both sides. Ralph told me she just how to position her backside for one and then the other so they could get up inside her panties with the least amount of effort. She seemed to like getting it from the back and to sloppily kiss the other boy at the same time like it was only one boy taking care of her urges on both ends. I guess she was the kind of girl that had a need for lots of condoms after I heard what Ralph told me about her friendly attitude in the darkened theater.

It was shortly after my sister spilled the beans about the girls from Pelham Bay coming to her high school that I sat quietly listening to her and Trudi talking about the situation in school where they were told in no uncertain terms that they better watch their “P”s and “Q”s and make the three girls welcome and make them feel like they were part of the school just like all the other students. They discussed how the three girls were all of Irish descent and that only the tall one was pretty. I took their “pretty or not pretty” views with a grain of salt because when it came to such things, the last ones I would rely on would be females of the same age to give me a run-down.

I have to admit I was sporting a raging hard-on under my running shorts and I did my best to hide it from the two of them because I knew they would make fun of me and call me a “pervert” so loud that our parents would likely hear them. My sister was sitting Indian style in her short skirt and I could see her pretty pink undies like some sort of signal flag of nubile attraction. I tried my best not to think about my sister having female equipment just like the girls I fanaticized about all day, when I should have been listening to the teacher up at the blackboard.

Trudi was stretched out on her tummy wearing her leotards and tiny tutu that she wore for dancing practice three times a week. In the inviting horizontal position, it was easy to see her leotards all the way up to her slender ass cheeks spread wide in an exciting way that did nothing to ease my stiffness. She must have been doing some sort of special exercises to tone her ass muscles because her cheeks were doing a little dance of their own clenching and releasing with total disregard for decorum or common decency. I was certain she didn’t think about me watching her private parts dancing like Salome’s veil for me and making me want to spread her pretty cheeks and show her the level of my enthusiasm for stretching her even wider. I think it was then that my sister Cathy saw me ogling Trudi’s backside and spotted my outstanding rod standing at stiff attention. Her face got sort of red and she pretended she didn’t see anything and I said a little prayer that she would keep it to herself and not tell Trudi about what a bad fellow I really was.