Bronx Park East Ch. 04

I asked her, "Did you ever imagine yourself in one of those magazines?"

"Absolutely not. I don't want to have sex in front of a camera, even if I were being paid to do it."

"Well, you could just pose by yourself, like in Playboy or Penthouse."

"Nope, those pictures never really go away. I wouldn't want some guy in Winslow fifty years from now looking at me for you know what."

"Winslow?"

"You know. 'It's a girl, my Lord, in a flatbed Ford, slowing down to take a look at me.' "

"Right, Arizona."

"That's why I wouldn't let you borrow any of those magazines. What would you rather do: masturbate over those girls or deal with the real me?"

I was slightly taken aback by that, and she seemed to notice it. "Sorry, that was a bit harsh. Anyway, could you imagine Playboy doing The Girls of The City University of New York or the Girls of The Bronx?"

I had to laugh at that. She said, "The caption would go, 'Lehman College coed Lenore Rojet loves to' - I don't know, collect owl figurines or whatever those chicks do."

"Why don't you become a cheerleader at Lehman? They have a basketball team over there."

She knew I was kidding her. "That's another thing I'll never do; flash my panties at a bunch of mooks at a basketball game."

"Hey, you said once that we would play some records and we haven't done it yet."

"Okay, let me pick something first." She got up and put Traffic's "The Low Spark of High Heeled Boys" on the turntable. Then she set the needle on the title track.

When she came back, I said, "Sit down in the position you were in before."

"With my limbs all over you? Sure, of course."

The song had started, very quietly at first and then the volume went up. The song was more than eleven minutes long; that's the way some were done back then.

I asked, "What is this song about, anyway?"

"I don't think even Steve Winwood knows for sure. And I don't know what the high heeled boys refers to."

I suggested, "Maybe it's partially about - regrets?"

"Yeah, that might be true."

I wasn't sure why, but the line, 'if I gave you everything I owned, and asked for nothing in return, would you do the same for me as I did for you?' - that seemed like something I could say to Lenore. I looked at her, and she smiled back.

I got to choose next, and I picked Bruce Springsteen's "New York Serenade." Lenore said, "I don't think I've ever heard this." It was also a long song, with an extended instrumental section at the beginning.

We stayed there for a while, listening to records and drinking our vodka. I put the "L.A. Woman" album on and let it run through. At one point I commented, "What he means is, the L.A. woman is really the city of Los Angeles itself."

She snickered at me, "I know that; what lady has her own freeways and midnight alleys? 'I see your hair is burning; hills are filled with fire.' "

"All right, I won't grace you with my insights anymore."

We weren't completely sozzled yet, but we were feeling the effects of the vodka. Lenore got closer to me and said, "I don't think you've had much experience with women."

"Well, how much experience have you had with men?"

"I'm not going to talk about it."

We stared at each other for a few moments. I said, "This is a game of chicken; we will see who blabs first."

She poked me in my chest, "How did you imagine it when you jerked-off about me?"

"That's kind of personal."

"Yes, but I was in it."

If I hadn't been so young, I would have evaded the question. I reluctantly said, "I pictured you on the couch at the college newspaper office. You had taken your jeans off but kept your sandals on. You were on top, straddling me."

I realized we hadn't done anything like that yet. She said, "Wow, that's pretty hot. We should go down there - like in the evening - and reenact it."

That sounded like a great idea. She continued, "It was interesting meeting your colleagues on Saturday. Those guys, their eyes were all over me." She leaned forward and quietly said, "They had no idea what a dirty mind I really have."

I was trying to deal with her statement when she continued, "You don't have to have your fantasies alone; I can take care of them for you." She thought of something new. "I bet you've spent the last year thinking about all the girls at City College."

She was right, but she was still bugging me. "Come on Lenore, what have you been doing yourself?"

"The same thing. I already told you how filthy I am."

I said a rather dumb thing, "No, you're not; you're a nice girl."

"Wait, you'll see. In fact, you've seen some already."

I thought it was time to end this. "It's four o'clock; we've had enough booze. Let's go out and get something to eat."

She got her clothes together and we stood up. I said, "We're going to the Cloisters this Saturday, right?" That was a museum of Medieval art in upper Manhattan.

"Sure, we have a date for that."

As she took my hand and we got ready to leave, I thought about how things were going. Maybe I'd like to see her more often. Perhaps that is possible. Then I wished I could spend the night with her. But where would that be? That was a lot less likely for the moment.

She said, "Man, I feel a bit wobbly. Let me get a pair of sandals on. Oh, I've got to retrieve my panties too."

She came back with white footgear that did go well with her outfit. She gestured towards the door and simply said, "Let's go."

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The next three chapters should be released this month.