Chapter 4: Belle and John

I had to do it, sooner or later. I had to contact Belle, if for no other reason than my peace-of-mind. I had been lying in my bed at night, desperately trying to remember our early dating days. I didn't have much money then, so a movie was just about all I could afford. We used to go up the mountain to the ski lift parking lot. It was a popular spot for necking, and we were regulars after a while. The problem was, I couldn't remember how long it was before we became regulars.

I had no trouble remembering her great body. She wasn't very tall, just a little over five foot two, while I was a head taller. But what she packed into that lovely frame made a lot of guys envious of me. That part I clearly remembered. I was never really sure why she chose me when I knew a dozen other guys who would happily date her. Was she telling them no? I never did find out from her. It was one of the very few secrets she kept from me.

It took me until Thursday to screw up the courage to make the phone call. I had no plan on what to say. I would try to explain about the accident and my need to prepare for college, but after that, I'd just have to wing it.

Her father answered the phone and I immediately remember his gruff, no-nonsense voice. Mel and I got along very well and, although I was intimidated by him at first, I quickly learned that he was more bluff and bluster than tough. I found out what his interests were (golf and fishing) and made sure I included them in my conversation. Happily, my father was an avid golfer and member of a private club, so I had some knowledge, even though I didn't play the game myself.

"Hello, Mr. Caulfield. My name is Lee North. I wonder if I might speak to Belle, please."

"Just a moment," he said, seeming satisfied with my politeness.

"Hullo?" I could recognize her voice anywhere. My heart caught in my throat and I could feel tears forming in my eyes.

"Uh, hello Belle, it's Lee North calling. I wonder if you remember me?"

"Oh ... hi Lee. Of course I remember you. How are you?"

"I'm fine, now. I'm all healed up."

"Healed up? What from?" She was obviously unaware of my accident.

"Oh ... I was hit by a truck. The driver had a heart attack, and ran through a stop sign, wiping out my mother's car."

"That was YOU?" she exclaimed in shock.

"Yeah. I spent some time in the hospital, then some more at home. But I'm pretty much all okay now."

"I saw the picture in the paper. I didn't realize it was you. I'm so sorry. I would have visited you. I thought you might have forgotten all about me. We only had that one date after the May Day dance."

"No ... I didn't forget about you. I should apologize though. I've been very preoccupied with my first year of college and I haven't given myself much time for dating or other social things. It wasn't very nice of me to take you out, then not let you know what happened. I'm sorry I didn't call sooner."

"That's all right. I'm just glad you're better. When I saw your car, I thought the driver might be dead. I didn't want to read the story, so that's why I didn't know it was you."

"Uhhm ... I know it's short notice, but would you like to go out with me on Saturday? We could go to a movie, or something else if you prefer." God, was this ever high school stuff. I thought I was past this.

"Sure. I'd like that. A movie sounds fine. Any one in particular?"

"Well, I know you like British comedies, so we could try the latest at the Studio."

"How did you know I like British comedies?"

Oops! "I guess you must have mentioned it to me. Anyway, I hope I'm right," I added lamely.

"Yes, I do like them. What time will you pick me up?"

I had looked up the schedule in the paper and the early showing started just at eight. "How about seven? That will give us lots of time."

"Sure. I'll see you then. Thanks for calling," she said, sounding like she meant it.

I hung up the phone in the kitchen. This was weird. I was asking for a date with my wife of forty-seven years, except she wasn't my wife and didn't even know me very well. I had no idea how this was going to turn out. I had a million things I wanted to ask her but didn't dare. I could feel the pressure building.

By Saturday afternoon I was a basket case. I had made a dozen plans and pitchforked them all. I had thought about all the things that might alter the way our early and later relationship would take. I had the outline of a plan, but no solid script that filled in the gaps.

Annabelle Margaret Caulfield was something of a contradiction, at least to me. She was a sexy little thing, with a walk that teased any guy watching. A lovely, prominent set of breasts in front, and a saucy little butt in back. Tight skirts were common in the day, and she wore them and snug-fitting blouses to the distraction of many.

On the other hand, she was very conservative. She had pledged her virginity to her wedding night, and no amount of wheedling or cajoling would shake her from that commitment. She was fun loving with a nice sense of humour and not above being a bit disobedient at times, but still not willing to go too far. Her parents kept a tight rein on her, recognizing the two dangerous traits she possessed -- her physical appearance and her occasional rebelliousness.

The difference was, of course, that I had a fifty year exposure to her ways, and I knew what to expect ... and what not to expect. Despite her voluptuous body and mannerisms, she was not a highly sexual woman. Our sex life was ordinary, if I had to describe it. She was not particularly interested in trying new things or in experimenting. As hard as I tried, I could not get her to reciprocate with oral sex, despite the fact that she seemed to enjoy it when I performed it on her.

She reluctantly permitted sex from behind on occasion, but not very often. She said it wasn't comfortable, but any suggestions I made that might have alleviated her discomfort were ignored. It wasn't all plain vanilla. She did like to ride me, and she did enjoy me taking her from behind when we were on our sides, perhaps because I couldn't penetrate as far as with conventional "doggie style."

Thus, I was determined to see whether a second attempt with Belle was in the cards. I knew what to expect, so I wouldn't waste a lot of time on trying to seduce her when she had no intention of allowing it. Instead, I thought about trying to "educate" her in some of the options that happily married couples might enjoy. I would have to be patient and subtle, but if successful, it would be worth it.

I walked up the once familiar steps to her parents' front door and rang the bell. Within seconds, Belle answered, swinging the door wide and inviting me in. I nearly had a heart attack. I had almost forgotten how beautiful she was at that age, and I could feel the blood begin to stir in my loins. I was light-headed until I forced myself to calm down.

"Hi ... you look great," I said, amazed that I could get that much out without stumbling or stammering.

"Thanks. You look good yourself. I like the shirt."

I had picked out a pale blue button-down cotton dress shirt and my best khaki pants. My loafers were shined, so I was fairly sure I would look okay. Belle was wearing a tight skirt and a nice blouse with some stitched design on it. It was all I could do to not stare at the prominent projection her breasts made, almost straining the buttons on the blouse. Only the top button was undone.

I said my hellos to her parents. It was good to see Mel and Emily again. They were fine people and had become very good friends with my parents. That was something I was very grateful for over the years. Mel gave me the once over and decided I wasn't too dangerous looking. I had to admit my hair was a bit unruly. I was growing out my brush cut and not all of it was cooperating with the plan.

After a brief introduction we left, and I walked Belle up the path to the big Dodge and opened the door for her. She smiled at me, perhaps unused to this courtesy. I couldn't remember if this was normal for me at that age. Probably not. I quickly walked around the car and slipped into the driver's seat and we were off.

I don't remember much of the movie. I was too absorbed by Belle and my thoughts about our future. It didn't really matter. We had collected a bunch of these old black and white films of the late fifties and early sixties on DVD, and played them regularly. I knew the plot and outcome of this particular movie, School for Scoundrels, and I also knew it remained one of our favourites.

During the movie, she was leaning toward me, and I took the chance and put my arm around her. She smiled up at me and I relaxed. I couldn't have been this uptight when I was first dating her, could I? God, she smelled good. What I wouldn't have given to take her home, undress her, and make love to her. On the other hand, we were just getting to know each other.

It was too soon to take Belle up to the "lookout" for a necking session, so I asked if she'd like to go to the White Spot drive-in and have a snack. She was happy with the suggestion. These were pre-seatbelt days and I realized she was moving a little closer to the middle of the bench seat on the Dodge. That was interesting ... particularly on a second date. Perhaps I had been bolder on that forgotten first date after all.

On an impulse, I reached out with my right hand to her and she took it. It was warm and dry and seemed amazingly small and soft. We drove along that way until I turned into the drive-in and found a place to park. It was car-hop service only, so we didn't have to move. I almost forgot to turn my lights on to request service when I saw the sign just about the billboard menu. Within a minute, we had a uniformed guy leering at Belle and asking her what she would like. I was an afterthought.