Chapter 5

The Sadie Hawkins dance was fun. Marcie even picked me up in her car in keeping with the concept. I was wearing a pair of jeans at least four inches too short for me, and a red and white checked shirt. I had on a pair of old work boots of my grandfather’s with a piece of rope for a belt. I had a straw hat that was Papa’s also and had blacked out one of my front teeth with a Sharpie marker. Marcie looked pretty damned cute in bib overalls. She had her fine blond hair in pigtails and had drawn big freckles on her cheeks. She loved the missing tooth look so we blacked out one of hers as well.

Like I said, the dance was fun but being with Marcie wasn’t. Marcie was as insubstantial as helium and the only subject she could expound on for any length was Marcie. I hung in there though, dancing and sitting with her and her vapid friends. One thing that helped make my evening better was the kiss for a ticket thing where a girl gives a guy a ticket and he kisses her. At the end of the evening the guy with the most tickets is crowned Mr. Dog Patch. I was amazed at the number of kisses I dispensed. I was also amazed at the boldness of some of them. For instance, Jenny Caldwell came up while her date was in the bathroom. She handed me a ticket then proceeded to perform a tonsillectomy on me using her tongue as a scalpel. Josh Turner was crowned Mr. Dog Patch but I was a respectable second.

When the dance broke up at eleven Marcie drove out to the shell pit, a notorious make out spot, and parked. We swapped a little slobber and she put my hand on her breast.

“No touching under the clothes,” she said.

With Marcie, even making out was choreographed. After exactly fifteen minutes she broke our clench, started her car, and drove off. She took us to the Steak and Shake where she proceeded to ignore me and chatter with her friends. Marcie did add to my knowledge of women that night though. With Marcie I learned that I didn’t pick up vibes from all girls. Marcie didn’t radiate that something that told me what to do next. When I thought about it later I realized that I also felt nothing from Jenny Caldwell. By contrast, when I kissed Caroline I could feel an aura around her that resonated to my touch. Weird shit, huh?

The next morning I called Caroline and checked if her father was home. She said he was outside working on a neighbor’s pickup truck. So I climbed on the old mountain bike and rode the three miles to her house. Caroline lived in an older section of Palmdale about three blocks off the inland waterway. The part of town she lived in was an eclectic blend of houses built in the 1930s, 40s, and 50s. The house they lived in was a four-bedroom, wood-frame, two-story built in the fifties. The house was freshly painted and the yard was very well kept.

I saw Mr. Hernandez standing with another man, their heads stuck under the hood of an ancient Chevy pickup. He was holding a timing light and gassing the engine. I stood by the truck waiting until he had the engine purring. When he looked up and noticed me, he smiled, wiped his hand on his jeans and stuck it out for me to shake.

‘Hello, Yonnie”, he said.

I shook his hand and returned his greeting.

“Carolina is in the house doing laundry,” he said.

“Uh, actually I came to see you, Mr. Hernandez,” I said in a rush, “I’d like your permission to take Caroline to the movies tonight.”

Mr. Hernandez turned to the other man who said something in Spanish. Mr. Hernandez’s eyebrows went up and he looked at me.

“This is my friend Eduardo, he has better English.”

Eduardo shook my hand then reached into a cooler and pulled out a couple of cans of Bud Light. He offered me one and I shook my head no. He shrugged and gave the can to Mr. Hernandez. Then the two men had a lengthy conversation, as I stood there uncomprehendingly. Finally they turned back to me. Mr. Hernandez casually took a big folding Buck Knife out of a sheath on his belt, snapped it open one handed and started cleaning his fingernails.

“Mr. Hernandez will allow you to date his daughter Caroline,” Eduardo said formally. “But he desires you to know that he will cut off your cojones if you hurt her.”

I blanched as I looked at the wicked looking knife. Cojones was one of the few Spanish words I knew. Mr. Hernandez and his friend were looking at me as if they are deciding whether it would be safer to castrate me first.

I tried to say something reassuring but it’s as if the shiny stainless steel blade of the knife hypnotized me. Then Hernandez and Old Eddie start laughing manically and Mr. Hernandez slapped me on the back.

“You are very funny, Yonnie!” he said.

Mr. Hernandez led me up and into the house and called for Caroline. When she arrived he headed for the kitchen where his wife was standing at the sink. No doubt to regale her with his big joke.

Caroline took my hand and we walked back out to the porch.

“Did you ask?”

I nodded.

“What did he say?”

“He said okay and then threatened to cut off my you-know-whats.”

Caroline covered her mouth to stifle her giggling.

“He says that to all the boys. He thinks he is a comedian.”

“All the boys?” I asked.

“Yes, I have been going on dates since I was fourteen, but it was with a group and boys from the church. This is my first real date and you are the first Anglo I’ve been out with.”

How about that, shy little Caroline has been practice dating for two years already and I had a grand total of four dates in three months.

The Moose drove me over to pick up Caroline at half past six that evening. I knocked on the door and Mrs. Hernandez let me in. Mrs. Hernandez spoke better English than her husband. I sat in the living room chatting while Caroline finished getting ready. The furniture was not new but the house was as clean as a whistle. Mr. Hernandez and I shook hands again. He was sitting in a recliner watching Boxeo on Univision. He said something to Mrs. Hernandez and she swatted him on the arm.

‘My husband says you should maybe watch this station so you’ll do better next time.”

I looked over at him and he put up his fists and waved them around. Yep, Juan Hernandez was the next George Lopez, all right. Just ask him.

I met some of Caroline’s siblings while I was waiting. She had a brother, Juan Junior, who was eighteen months younger. Caroline had told me all about him during study hall. He was a bright and personable young man and the pride and joy of the family. Caroline said it was normal in her culture for the family’s hopes to be pinned on the first-born son. I also met her thirteen-year-old sister Carla. Carla was bright-eyed and precociously on the cusp of becoming another Latin heartbreaker. Caroline also had four much younger siblings: a set of nine-year-old twins, boy and girl and the two youngest, a four-year-old brother and a two-year-old sister.

When Caroline flowed down the steps she made the wait insignificant. She was beautiful and I told her so as her parents beamed. She kissed both her parents and out the door we went. Katrina was reading as she waited for us, she turned off the dome light, fired up her Toyota and off to the mall we sailed. Katrina dropped us off at the entrance to the multiplex. We settled on a romantic comedy with J Lo in it, and I bought us tickets.

I couldn’t take my eyes off Caroline. She was wearing low-rider jeans and a tight t-shirt with a scooped neck. Her bra pushed her breasts deliciously upward. Her jeans were tight and molded to her perfect little ass. I don’t know, maybe it’s just me, but Latin girls wear jeans better than any one else. I think it has to do with attitude. I mean Brittany Spears looks good in jeans and all, but Shakira looks spectacular. And Caroline wore hers with panache. Caroline also had her thick hair unfettered and loose. It moved with her head as if it were a glossy black cloud. My fingers ached just to grab a big handful of it.

I told her again how beautiful she was while we watched the previews roll. She turned in her seat and kissed me.

“I wanted to look sexy for you Johnny so you’d forget about those two blondes that buzz around you like bees.”

I kissed her back. “Mission accomplished,” I said.

We watched the movie in companionable silence. My arm was around her; her head was on my shoulder. We kissed every time the actors did. Ours were so much better. After the movie I called my grandfather from my cell phone. He picked us up fifteen minutes later and drove us to his house for dessert. As soon as we walked into my grandparents’ house, Jethro bounded over to us and stuck his nose in Caroline’s crotch. I had forgotten to warn her about Jethro’s unique way of saying hello. My grandfather grabbed Jethro by his collar and pulled him away as my grandmother muttered an apology. Jethro yawned, and ambled into the family room and plopped down, his work for the evening done.

We sat at the kitchen table and Nana served us freshly baked cherry pie with ice cream. We talked for about fifteen minutes then Papa asked Caroline when she had to be home. She said in about an hour.

“Good,” said my grandfather, “would you two mind if me and Nadia take Jethro for a walk?”

Before I could say anything Caroline piped up.

“No, Mr. Pulaski. We wouldn’t mind at all,” she said sweetly.

Nana shooed us into the family room as she put away the dishes and pie. Then she and Papa grabbed their sweaters and Jethro and slipped out the door. Jethro was ecstatic over his unexpected good fortune; he practically dragged Papa out the door.

“See you in about thirty minutes,” Papa called helpfully.

When the door closed I turned to Caroline.

“I swear I didn’t put him up to that!”

She giggled, “Shut up and kiss me, we only have half an hour.”

This side of Caroline flabbergasted me. In public she was so shy and sweet but alone with me she was something altogether different. Well, whatever, I tabled that line of thought as she gave me a smokin’ kiss that had Kong harder than Superman’s kneecap in five seconds flat. I could feel her desire like a physical presence in the room. It was stronger even than Michelle Hoffman’s. I reflected it back to her as we kissed. When she pulled away from me her eyes were smoldering pools of passion.

“I will take you for my lover,” she stated, matter of factly.

Oh Sweet Jesus, her accent was so cute. Actually, unless she was excited her English was nearly flawless, especially since she had only been in the United States five years. Having to learn English was why she was a year older than me, yet in the same grade.

“I accept,” I said laughing.

She grabbed my face and forced me to look her in the eyes.

“I’m not joking, my Johnny. I am going to go to college to become a nurse. I’ll be the first in my family to go to college, so I don’t want or need a boyfriend, yet, I am very sexual. You make me burn inside, and I trust you, Johnny. I know you will keep me safe and not talk about me.”

Shit! She was serious!

“Once again, I accept,” I said, solemnly this time.

She smiled then, showing her small white teeth. Then she quickly swung herself astraddle my lap, one of her knees on each side of my hips. Once firmly seated, she reached down cross handed and whipped her t-shirt over her head. She shook her head sending her hair flying all over. She used her hands to brush her hair back over her shoulders the reached behind her and unfastened her lacy baby blue bra. She shrugged off the bra and tossed it next to her shirt. Finally, Caroline pulled her shoulders back making her apple-sized breasts thrust forward.

Wow, she had a terrific body! She didn’t appear to have an ounce of fat on her. Her stomach was flat and slightly rippled with muscles. She had a small gold hoop in her belly button. Her smallish breasts fit her frame perfectly and were capped by brown, puffy, Hershey Kiss nipples. I leaned forward and slurped one of her puffies into my mouth. She hissed, pushed her chest towards me and ground her hard little ass on the Mighty Kong.

Caroline scooted her hips forward until I could feel the tented fly of my jeans pressing against her mons. She rode me like that for a couple of minutes making little back and forth slides. I had the handful of hair I craved all evening, both hands buried in sweet smelling ebony as I nibbled along her jaw. Caroline suddenly ground down on me hard then her whole body seemed to quiver. She let out a loud squeal then leaned forward and bit my neck as she shuddered and moaned.

I held her as she regained her breath, her little body quivering every so often. Finally she leaned back and smiled at me.

“I wish I could take off my jeans, Johnny; but they are so tight I’d never get them back on before your grandparents returned. But from now on I’ll wear a dress or skirt for you.”

“It’s fine Caroline, we’ll have other chances.”

She nodded. “Yes,” she said, “but in the meantime I’m not letting my lover go home suffering.”

As she was saying that she was gracefully sliding off me. She knelt on the floor and pushed my legs apart. When she started fumbling with my zipper I rushed to help her. Soon enough, my pants were around my ankles and my dick was in her mouth. She laved my shaft with her saliva then wrapped her hand around my shaft. Keeping suction on the crown of my dick she started stroking me up and down. It only took her a couple of minutes to Hoover a prodigious load out of me. She gulped me down, not losing a drop. I was limp on the couch, a boneless blob, when she kissed Kong sweetly and tucked him in for the night. Those group dates with boys from the church must have been something!

We pulled our clothes back on and cuddled on the couch. I could smell us thick and pungent in the room. I was hoping that the Sharper Image ionizer thingie my Nana swears by was silently whisking the smell of our little tete a tete out of the air. Caroline told me how our relationship as lovers was going to work.

“Find us a place and get some protection, Johnny. Get at least two kinds until I can go to Planned Parenthood and get on the pill. Next time you take me out, plan on making love to me for hours.”

Damn, she was a take-charge woman! I nodded and told her how good she made me feel.

“You are not my first, Johnny. I told you I’m highly sexed. But no one has ever made me feel as good as you do, even when we are just kissing. I can’t wait to have you in me making me scream.”

To this day I am still in awe of Caroline’s unabashed enthusiasm regarding sex and her ability to compartmentalize her feelings. At school you’d swear she was preparing for the convent but when we were alone she was pure unadulterated sexiness.

My grandparents drove us to drop of Caroline at eleven-twenty. I walked her to the door and got a chaste kiss on the lips. Before she went inside she whispered that her thong was so wet it wouldn’t dry out for a week.

Back at school the following week it was business as usual. This time of year is always a slog for me, the long period between President’s Day and spring break a relentless grind of study. One thing that did break the routine happened during lunch the Tuesday after my first date with Caroline.

I was walking to my usual table when Arturo Mendoza motioned me to join him at his table. I shrugged and veered over to where he sat with a couple of his homeboys. Mendoza made a gesture and we were suddenly sitting at the table alone.

“You healed up good, White Boy,” he said.

“I’m Polish, I have a hard head and my name’s Johnny not White Boy,” I responded.

He gave me a shrewd look.

“You still ain’t scared of me even after the beating I gave you.”

I shrugged. “I have a healthy respect for your right hook, but, no, you don’t scare me.”

“It’s good you mentioned respect, that’s what I want to talk about. I hear the police visited you.”

I nodded, “They wanted me to press assault charges against you. I told them it was a fair fight, not an assault.”

“That’s what I heard. I also heard about what your family did for the Hernandez’s. Both were good things. Then I heard you took out Caroline, which was not so good. I could consider that an insult.”

I chose my words carefully.

“Caroline doesn’t have time for either one of us, Arturo. She has plans that don’t include a boyfriend. She and I are just friends. Neither one of us need to make her life any harder than it already is. I know you are concerned about people in your community getting ahead. Why not give Caroline her chance?”

He seemed to think about what I said for a few seconds as he eyed me appraisingly. I returned his stare unblinkingly.

“You’re a good dude. Too bad you are not Latino, I could use you.”

I laughed at that.

“You mean you don’t accept Poles in the Kings? That’s rank discrimination!”