Margery’s New Look

Big Tits

I met my first girlfriend just two blocks from where I lived in Williamsbridge, The Bronx. It was September 1972 and I had started my senior year at high school. I was seventeen years old and my romantic experiences at school had been, frankly, non-existent. Maybe high school was overrated as a dating location, but I hadn’t found a single prospect during my three years there. By that point, I was starting to think ahead to college and the better opportunities I assumed I’d have when I got there.I wasn’t thinking about any of that as I came around the corner of 211th Street and started north on my own street, Bronx Boulevard. It was a sunny, warm afternoon and my mind was wandering.I passed a group of kids about my age standing near the curb. I think there were two girls and three guys. I didn’t know them; in a city like New York, it was hard to recognize neighbors in my own building. One of the girls noticed me and said, “Hey kid, how are you doing?”I stopped and said, “I’m doing pretty well; how are you doing?” I was merely being polite at that point.She wasn’t so polite, “How old are you anyway? Are you even old enough to shave?”I got that she was putting on some kind of show for her friends; she wanted some validation from them by acting like a smart-ass. Usually, my tactic in life was to be nice to people – too nice, in fact – but she had riled me up a bit. Without really thinking too much, I replied, “I’m seventeen. How old are you? Have you even had your first period yet?”Probably that was a bit much, but it got an instant reaction. Her friends started laughing. Her face fell, and she seemed upset as she said, “I’m sixteen, and I’m going to be seventeen in November!”I had to top myself, “Really? I would have thought you were still wearing a training bra.”Her companions laughed again and she tried to change the topic slightly, “When did you turn seventeen, anyway?”“All right, it was last May.”She seemed vindicated, “You see? I’m only about six months younger than you are.”Somehow, I came up with a retort, “So, you’re like Liesl in The Sound of Music, and I’m like Rolfe.”Her friends got that, kaçak iddaa and so did she. She tried her best to reply, “So, are you joining the Nazis?”That one was pretty good, I thought. I said, “No, but they do have great uniforms.”She smiled at me,  “Yeah, especially their boots!”Then another thought came to me. I could have this girl if I wanted her. I had never thought that before about any girl. I had stumbled upon a truth I didn’t fully realize until much later. Sometimes, when challenged by a woman during an approach – although this one had approached me – it was better to push back and get her a bit upset rather than just appearing meek and boring.Her shit test – if that was what it was – had a sexual subtext in that she had brought up my ability to grow a beard. I had escalated it by referring to her menstruation and then her breasts. Maybe it was the boldness in her responses that I had noticed. Even though I had just met her, I felt like I was being fully noticed by her and I had her full attention.That was enough for me to try something I had never done before; I decided to continue on my trajectory with her. I crooked a finger at her and said, “Come over here; I want to talk to you about something, in private.”“And what would that be?”“Come on over and find out.”She looked at her friends as if she needed permission from them to do anything. Then she followed me up the block for a few yards.I had surprised myself with the move I had made on her. I briefly looked her over to gauge who I was dealing with. She looked younger than her age, which is why I had first taken her to be about fifteen. (And she had called me “kid!”) She also wasn’t that big. She was about five-foot-four, and her figure was quite slender.Her clothes – she had jeans, a pullover blouse, and a jacket – and her general appearance had a look of junior high school about them. It wasn’t that I was a particularly snazzy dresser either. Her dark hair was pinned up in a sort of random, messy manner. And yet, I thought she was rather pretty, or she would be if she had put some effort into the way she looked. I improvised something. kaçak bahis “Are you hungry? Because we could get some pizza at that place on White Plains Road.”She was still in her sassy mode, “What, one slice of pizza?”I shrugged, “Have two of them then. I’ll pay for it. Do you have to get permission from your momma or something?”“Me? I’ve been on lots of dates, I don’t need to talk to my mom about them.” I didn’t believe her; I doubted that she had ever been on a single date yet. Yet I noted that she had just referred to this outing as a “date.” I wasn’t going to tell her it was my first date too.“So I assume we’re going then?”“Sure, let’s go.” She briefly looked back at her friends, as if she was considering telling them. Then she turned and we walked up the block. I briefly wondered what they were thinking, but I really didn’t care. Rather, I was more concerned about what was on her mind.She was quite sociable on the brief walk up to White Plains Road. I said, “I’m Henry, or Hank really, D’Amato. I live up in the next block up.”“Well, I’m Margery Carlin.”“Is that your building back there?” That was the one at the corner of 211th Street where I had first seen her.“Right, that’s my place.”I found out that she was attending the local high school, Evander Childs, and she found out that I was going to one of the specialized schools, Bronx Science.“Hah, Bronx Science is for nerds.”“Maybe, but we’re all nerds going to good colleges.” That was mostly true, anyway.“So where are you thinking of going?” I looked at her, but I could tell it wasn’t a put-on.“I don’t know, maybe Columbia.” That indeed was one that I was considering.She seemed impressed, “Do you think you’ll get in?”I decided to be honest with her. “I guess I won’t know until I try.”She said, “I suppose I’m going to wind up somewhere in CUNY.” That was the city university system. I didn’t know it then, but in a year that’s where I’d wind up too. Anyway, at least Margery had ambitions of going to college, which to me was a good sign.When we sat down with our slices at the pizzeria, she seemed more subdued than before – or at least, she illegal bahis had dropped her smart-ass attitude. I know I was feeling a bit nervous myself. I had never so much as had lunch with a girl at the school cafeteria, and now I was here with one I had known for about fifteen minutes.Yet I thought, it was pretty easy to get her to come with you. I had simply asked, and she had agreed. And I had found her just two blocks from my house. Maybe I had always overestimated the difficulty of these things. It was my first attempt at a pick-up, and it seemed to be working.I noted near the beginning that she responded to our conversation rather quickly. What got to talking about our classes – the standard student topic of course.She said, “So do they have a lot of math classes at your school?”“I suppose so; I don’t have another place to compare it to.”“I’m not that good at math.”“We’ve got some real prodigies over there – but I’m not that into it either. I mean, I can do it when I have to.”She said, “You know what my favorite class is? It’s English.”“All right, why is that?”“Well, it’s because I like poetry.”“Anybody in particular?”“Yeah, Emily Dickinson for one.” She had caught me off-guard with that, but she had a follow-up. “I’ve even memorized a few of her poems, some of the shorter ones. Would you like to hear one?”I figured I had nothing to lose, “Sure, go ahead.” For a moment I didn’t take her seriously, as if she was kidding me perhaps.She took a sip of her soda, and she seemed to take a moment to prepare herself. “Okay, here goes.” I wasn’t really expecting her to do it, and I was surprised when she knew the first eight lines.I had never heard it before. “What is the title of this thing?”“Most of her poems didn’t have titles. They’re usually identified by the first line; in this case, it’s, ‘My Life has stood – a Loaded Gun.’ ” She hesitated for a moment and said, “Should I continue? It’s pretty short.”I was trying not to gape at her. “Yeah, okay, go ahead.”There were twenty-four lines in total. Then she stopped, and for a moment I didn’t know what to say. Well, I was assessing her differently, that was for sure. Her voice, for one thing – she had lost that harsh New York brazenness I had heard back on her block. She wasn’t smiling at me, but she was looking intently at me with her dark eyes.

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