Chapter 4: Woodlawn Cemetery

“Hey Paul, that stunt we talked about – we should do that this week.”

“You mean, let’s call it – a sexual stunt, right?”

Mandy said, “That’s it, exactly. I thought I made that clear before.”

“Actually, the last we one did – that was a bit, I’d call it, disappointing.”

She laughed, “Well, you can be sure this one will be better. For one thing, you are definitely going to get laid this time!”

“That’s good because last time I wound up jerking off twice, once at the drive-in and once when I got home.” Less than a week had passed since that event.

“Oh, you poor guy, you have such a stingy girlfriend; you hardly ever get any pussy at all.”

“Right; it’s almost like being in high school again.”

Actually, I was very pleased with my new girlfriend so far. Miranda was a tall, zaftig chick with dark-blonde hair just down to her chin, which was a bit on the short side for that time. She was also very smart and funny, although she had a few eccentricities that I had noticed from the first day I had met her.

On that warm September afternoon, we were hanging out at a coffee shop on Broadway down the hill from her apartment in Kingsbridge Heights. I said, “All right, what have you got for me?”

She took a deep breath and hesitated for a moment. “What I had thought of was - we should have sex outdoors. I have a specific place in mind.”

“What, just being in the car is not enough? Do you mean like in, say, a park, like Van Cortlandt?”

“No, I was thinking of Woodlawn Cemetery.”

That was Mandy’s wild and crazy side coming out again. I sat there for a moment, unable to reply. Before I could say anything else, she broke in, “Come on, at least hear me out.”

“Okay, let me ask some questions first. Like, is this supposed to be at night?”

“No, I’m not superstitious, but it would be more than a bit creepy to be there after dark. Besides, I think they close the gates.”

I didn’t want to be there at night either, but I replied, “If this is in the daytime, it increases the chances of us getting caught, you do know that?”

“Well, that’s part of the fun of it all, the risk we take. Except, we’re not going to get caught.”

“Yeah, and how can you guarantee that?”

“Have you ever heard of Jay Gould?”

I didn’t know where this was going, but I played along with her. “He was one of the 19th Century robber barons, I think.”

“That’s him. At one point he owned a whole bunch of railroads.”

“All right, so what?”

She said, “You know how in the northern part of Woodlawn, there are all those old and really big mausoleums? Well, Gould has one there – he died in 1892 – and when you see this place, you’ll know for sure that we can get away with fooling around in there.”

She continued, “You know what he said once? He said, ‘I can hire one half of the working class to kill the other half.’”

“He was the one who said that? Sounds like he was a really charming kind of guy.”

I sat back and thought about the situation. For some reason, an old song about railroads popped into my head.

Hear the mighty rush of the engine, hear the lonesome hobos call.
You’re traveling through the jungle on the Wabash Cannonball.

The jungle, of course, referred to a hobo “jungle” or encampment, rain forests or whatever being rather scarce in Indiana. Mandy interrupted my reverie. “At least have a look. We could drive over there on Thursday.” She smiled, “I’ll wear something special to motivate you.”

“And what will that be?”

“You’ll find out on Thursday.” Another one of her surprises.

“Okay, my lovely Miranda, I’ll have to see this for myself.”

I remembered one other bout of outdoor sex I had experienced. That was back in 1975 with a plump but sexy little girl named Judy Weinberg. We had pulled off our tryst at City College, on the lawn behind Wagner Hall. But that had been quite late, around ten o’clock in the evening.

I considered telling Mandy about it, but I decided to hold off until I saw how this latest escapade went.

Thursday was a warm but overcast day. Around 11:00 AM I drove my 1972 Cutlass through the Jerome Avenue gate and headed north. I noticed that Mandy had brought a big shopping bag with her, but I didn’t ask about what was in it. What most caught my attention were her clothes. She was wearing the same orange blouse and black skirt that she had on the day I had met her in August. This time, however, she had sheer dark nylon stockings and black high-heeled shoes instead of the white sneakers and socks.

I asked her, “So how did you find out about this place?”

“Four years ago, when my Uncle Jeff was buried here, my family drove around afterwards. We were sort of sightseeing, if looking at mausoleums could be considered sights to be seen.”

“I’ve seen them myself.”

“Do you have any relatives buried here?”

“Yeah, two actually. My grandma Louise, my mother’s mom, she died of a heart attack when I was about three months old.

“Wow, she must have been on the young side.”

“Fifty-two, I think. And her sister – what would that be, my great aunt, I think – died even younger. She got run over by a car on Queens Boulevard, around 1943. She’s in another location around here.” I thought about that. “I’m not sure I could find either gravesite right now. When people die before you remember them, they remain kind of abstract, you know what I mean?”

“I do get it.”

This talk of death was strange considering our purpose in being there. But maybe that was the point. Our sexual coupling, if we could pull it off, would demonstrate that we were still very much alive. And also, at the age of twenty-two, one has no real concept of time yet. My own mortality seemed so far off in the future that it didn’t register with me.

We entered the zone of the mausoleums, and I had forgotten how impressive many of them were. Even the smaller ones were like solid blocks of stone. The bigger ones were virtually buildings in themselves.

I commented, “At least these give jobs to stone masons, or at they did at one time.”

“It’s amazing that people paid for these things. I mean, it’s not like they’re really here. All of this stone to hold – what, some bones by this point probably?”

I said, “People’s vanity, it has no limits. And the older ones, who even comes to visit them anymore? Once you’re beyond anyone’s living memory, as I said, you’re really gone.” I thought further, “You know Mandy, for this sexy adventure we’re supposed to be having here, this is an extremely downbeat conversation.”

Miranda was not the type to be apologetic about anything. “Well, I’m more interesting than some boring, vapid chick, right?”

I decided to tease her, “That’s true, but you had better come up with something really good here today.”

“Don’t worry, you’re going to like it, I’m sure of that. In fact, I’m going to like it too.”

In a few moment’s we were stopped in front of Jay Gould’s final resting place, and the size of the place was indeed impressive. The whole thing was the equivalent of two stories high, and it was bigger than some bank buildings I had seen. It was designed like a Greek temple, with a colonnade around the entire structure enclosing an inner building. This is just for one dead dude? You could easily entomb a hundred people in there.

I said, “I admit, it’s pretty amazing.”

“He obviously had a lot of money and the ego to go along with it. Drive around to the back.”

Once we were there and I had turned off the engine, she moved closer and started talking to me in that quiet, confidential manner women have when discussing some sexual proposition.

“I already know how this is going to go. First, let me show you something.”

She pulled her skirt up above her waist and said, “Ever see a garter before, with straps? I just got it and I know it’s kind of retro, but I’m already loving it. I’ve got to get more of these things.”

The garter encircled her waist and it had black straps holding up her stockings. The garter itself was orange with a black pattern on it,

I admitted, “No, actually I haven’t seen one before.” I tried to remember if one had ever appeared in Penthouse or Hustler magazines. “I noticed that it’s sort of color-coordinated with your blouse.”

“Have you noticed something else?”

“Am I supposed to?”

“Yeah, dummy, look at this.” She splayed her legs apart. I could see that the garter was open from below, and I could look right up to her bare cunt.

My comment was pretty lame, “Oh, I see.”

“Yeah, you can see indeed. The point is, you can wear panties on top of these if you want. I obviously choose the option of not wearing them.”

Then she moved forward and started kissing me. She quietly said, “Now first, I want you to fondle me and then will go down on me. I’ll take my tits out too so you can work on those. You will – in fact, I expect it from you – give me an orgasm. I’m sure you can do that because I’ve seen you do it before.”

I joshed with her, “So you expect it, huh? I haven’t failed you yet.”

“Not even once! Then, when that’s done, I’ll take your stiff cock out – and I’m sure it will be quite stiff – and I’ll blow you until you have an orgasm too. That will all be in the car. Sounds pretty good so far?”

“I don’t have any complaints.”

“But that is only Act I of this little affair. For Act II, we will get out of the car and go into that colonnade that Jay Gould so thoughtfully provided for the young lovers of the future, namely us.”

I glanced at the structure, “The problem is, there is only hard stone to lie on. Do you expect to do it standing up?”

“Ah, I’ve already thought about that.” She reached back to her shopping bad in the back seat. “That’s why I have a nice thick blanket in here.” Man, this chick has it all planned out.

Before I could say more, she had her arms around me again. We didn’t waste any time. As she started kissing me, I thrust my right hand under her skirt and went straight for her bare pussy. She reacted quickly as I rubbed her slit. “Oh yes, that’s great, please do it just like that.” She was surprisingly wet. I supposed merely anticipating all this had aroused her. I had seen that from her before; her cunt could lubricate from her thoughts alone.

I was instantly erect, but she made no move to take out my cock or even rub me through my pants. That was okay; I’d knew she’d get to it soon enough.

Mandy’s legs were splayed out, and she got her right one behind my back while the other one was braced on the steering wheel. I rubbed her in ways I knew she liked.

I said, “This garter and strap thing, it looks just great.”

She was moaning by now. “Oh, definitely, much better than pantyhose.”

Within a few minutes, she said, “Come on, lick me already, kiss my pussy.” I did just that, flicking her clitoris with my tongue and then licking along the sides of her cunt. By now, she was lying back face-up on the seat with her legs in the air.

“That’s it Paul; do it just that way. You’d be surprised at how some guys don’t even like doing this to a lady.”

I stopped long enough to say, “Mandy, baby, I could do this all day.” But I didn’t have to do it all day. In a few minutes, she climaxed. Her hips came off the cushion; then she spread her legs even further and suddenly closed them around my head. Her moaning was continuous by that point.

For a few moments, she just lay there as I sat up behind the wheel. When she seemed to have her wits about her again, I asked her, “So you’ve met guys who don’t know how to do this?”

“I met one who didn’t even like the taste of cunt. He would barely lick me even when I would beg for it.” Then she sat up and said, “Honey, it’s your turn now.”

I made a more to undo my pants but she said, “Just unzip yourself and push your cock out through the opening.”

“What is the point of that?”

“I don’t know, it just reminds me of a whore who needs to get it done quick and dirty.” I had never heard her compare herself to a prostitute before.

“There are whores in Woodlawn Cemetery?”

She found that amusing, “Come on dummy, use your imagination. You picked me up elsewhere and took me in here.”

But I did imagine her as a streetwalker, and it was indeed quick and dirty as she had predicted. I sat on the edge of the seat and she knelt on the floor. She helped encourage me by using one of her hands to rub the seat of my trousers. Mandy had already discovered that stroking my behind always motivated me to come faster, and she used the technique as she thought necessary.