STOCKING STORIES!

Do you have a special stocking related story or stocking fantasy that you would like to share with everyone?? How about some stocking poetry? If you have something to contribute, this is where I will post it for everyone to enjoy. The only restrictions are no swearing and no explicit sex acts. Every story that gets posted will earn the writer a free photo set of their choice up to $20!! So get your creative juices going and let's see what you can come up with!! Email it to me and I will post it ASAP.

My Stocking Fantasy by Dennis


This story begins with myself making my way through the airport terminal having just gotten through security. I walked to the waiting area adjacent to where my flight was to board. I was somewhat early for my flight so this part of the terminal was relatively empty. I absentmindedly took a seat and prepared to wait for my flight to be called. I glanced to my left-only to be taken in by a vision that pretty much made my jaw hit the floor. Seated 3 seats down was the most stunningly beautiful woman I had laid eyes on in a long while. She had long cascading blonde hair that swept down past her shoulders and was wearing a silk blouse with a skirt not quite to her knees. This is where the best part comes in. She was wearing grayish colored hose and delicate high stiletto heels to boot. Desperately trying not to be obvious (but then hey guys-the ladies always know when we are looking –right!!) I stole several glances to my left just to drink in this vision of sublime beauty. Just to top things off-she was lightly tapping away on a laptop perched on her knees-which forced her to arch her legs just a little bit-to keep it balanced correctly. This gave me a view of her very exquisite long legs which helped me pass the time very pleasantly with erotic fantasies running through my head. One fantasy was not to be though-the announcer called her flight (unfortunately not mine) and she got up and walked pass me to the boarding gate-with the gentle swish of her skirt barely audible above the click –clack of her high heels as she walked in front of me to board her flight. This meant that my fantasy of possibly sitting next to her on the plane was instantly dashed-but perhaps it is better this way- siiiiigh!!!!. Needless to say once I boarded my own flight -I had many wonderful fantasies to while away my time on a rather uneventful flight home-perhaps this was the way things were meant to be!!!!! I think of her still-and am thankful for the vision of beauty that she brought into my life that day-and many more since!!!!!!

My Favorite Dream by Don

I wrote a sexy story and sent it to Mercedes at “Mercedes slips”. In a few days I received a Wonderful surprise…I had won the contest for best story. I was told that I had won some photos and I told Mercedes what I wanted. I asked for anything with her in a Black Slip and Nylons. WOW! I received the most Fantastic photos. The download was an instant erection. I watched them over and over. Her beautiful legs were etched into my mind and when I went to bed I was still seeing them in my mind. I fell asleep and……………………….

I am driving thru the state of Minnesota and top a hill when I see a Mercedes sport coupe on the shoulder with the hood up. I pull in behind it and the personalized tag is “MERCDES 1”. I immediately make the connection with the beautiful web model.

I get out of the camper and walk to the front of the car. There stands a beautiful woman in a Black slip and FF nylons. She has on stiletto sandals with diamond ankle straps. Her breasts are spilling out of the tight slip. The slip itself appears to be one or two sizes too small and it really hug her trim body. I can hardly talk but I ask, “What’s the matter?”

She replied, “I don’t know, it just quit”. I ask if I can take a look at it and she said, ”I think you already have. You seem to have looked at everything already”. I guess I was blushing because she told me “Its O.K. I like for men to look at me”.

The alternator belt had come off and the battery was dead. I informed her that there was little that I could do for her. She smiled and said, “I doubt that”. I just smiled and asked her how far it is to the next repair shop? She said 10 miles but she could call for someone to come, if she had a phone. I informed her that I had a cell phone in the motor home. She turned and started for the door. I opened it and invited her to come in.

I have Prevost 45’ Class A motor home. It has all of the Bells and whistles and she was impressed with it and commented that it would be a good place to make love. I guess the mirrored ceiling brought that on. I told her that I was alone and that masturbation was not my idea of a good time. Again she smiled and walked into the rear bedroom and sat on the bed. She bounced a few times and giggled. The tight slip had risen up and I could see her black thong. Her legs were beautiful and she knew the poses that made a man respond.

I asked her if she wanted to make the call for help and she replied “Not just yet”. I surely wasn’t going to push it. I asked if I could make her a drink and she said Surely, All this and a bar too?” “I said Yep! What’s your pleasure?” “Bushmills on the rocks”. I said O.K.” She replied “Really? No one drinks Bushmills but me”. I said “And me”.

It was hot outside and the A/C was working hard to keep it cool. I asked if she was cool enough and she said “ Not really, all this is making me really HOT”.

I tried to change the subject but all that I could come up with was
“ Are you the web’s most beautiful slip model - Mercedes? “You know of me?” She said. “Oh yes”. I walked to the TV and put a cd into the changer. It came to life and so did I. I had that feeling that I get every time I look at them.

Mercedes smiled and said, ”I’ll be darned”. I cannot believe this.

We watched a while and then a pickup pulled up behind and blew their horn. Mercedes looked out and said “Its Tom, My husband.

That ruined a perfectly good dream. The horn was really my alarm going off telling me that its time to get up. Little did it know “I WAS ALREADY UP!”

I hope that this is one of those dreams that continues.

I had been driving for about 5 hours and it was nearing dinner time so I pulled off I-40 and started looking for someplace to eat. I spotted a “Logans Roadhouse”. The lot was pretty much empty so I figured to get in and out pretty fast.

I went inside and was seated. Lisa was the server and she took my order and went on with her chores of getting ready for the dinner rush.

Every time that she walked by, she smiled and I smiled back. I really liked the way she moved. She had the walk of a 50s movie actress. Her ass moved as if she were dancing. She had on tight Levis and a form fitting T-shirt. She was very trim at about 100 lbs. She stood about 5’2”.

I finished my steak and when she brought the check to me she said ” I have noticed that you liked to look at me while I work. It would be nice if you bought me a drink. I get off in 10 minutes”. Of course I said, ” Yes, I would love to”. I had another cup of coffee and waited. Lisa came to the table and asked what I was driving? She told me to go to the car and she would be out shortly. When she got into the car I noticed that she had changed clothing. She was wearing a tight dark blue “Slip dress”. As she goes into the seat next to me she let it ride up showing Black FF nylon stockings. It had been a long time ago that I was in the company of a beautiful young woman in nylons and high heels.

I asked her where to go to have that drink and she told me that she lived a few blocks away and that she had a pretty well stocked bar.

When we go to her apartment she told me to make myself comfortable while she took a shower and made herself more presentable. I couldn’t how that could be possible, but I did as I was told. I found some Bushmills Irish, ice and a tall Glass and mixed myself a drink. I yelled to Lori “Can I fix you something?” She replied “Not just now. Later”.

I turned on some soft music and lit a few candles. I turned the lights down and made myself comfortable. I was tired from the ling drive but I stayed alert, as I had no idea what was to happen next.

I had “Mellowed out” when Lori came into the room. She was absolutely beautiful. She was wearing a sheer black slip, a black satin garter belt and black FF nylons. She had on black sandals with 6”heels.

She said, ”You like?” I could barely talk but I said, “I think that I have died and gone to Heaven”. She smiled and asks, ”If that offer of a drink was still open?” I replied, “You bet”.

I fixed her drink and we sat on the couch and relaxed for a few minutes. We made small talk for a while then she slid next to me and asked “if I liked the was she dressed?” I told her that she is the most beautiful woman that I have ever seen and that I had a Fetish for Slips, Nylons and High heels and that Black is my favorite color. She leaned over and gave me a hot kiss.

I put my arms around her and we kissed for a while and then she stood up and took my hand a led me to the bedroom.

Music was piped throughout the house and again the bedroom was lit only by candlelight. I don’t have words to tell you what it felt like to be with this beautiful, sensual creature.

Lori took me into her closet and showed me the many nylon slips, slip dresses and high heel shoes. She had every color and every style. She said, “They are Old fashioned now and no one wears them”. She told me that the young boys that she has met have no interest in these clothes. We talked about the way it used to be when women dressed to please the men in their lives. I told her that it is strange that we met and those we both have the same taste in clothes.

We went back into the bedroom and lie on the bed. We kissed and made love. She is like a cat in bed. Her moves are so sensual. Lori knows exactly what do and how to do it. She is the Best .

I love the feel of a nylon slip when it rubs on FF nylons. I love the way a woman’s foot looks in black nylons and sandal high heels.
Lori is really a generation out of step and I guess I am also. She said she is 22 and I am 69.

I love to look at the photos of Mercedes and I think Lori and Mercedes with their collection of erotic lingerie ever teamed up for a photo shoot – It would be too hot for the internet to handle.

We see each other every other week and sometimes sooner if I get nostalgic and want to return to 1945. That’s when my Fetish for these things began……
 

Tom

TRUE STOCKING LOVERS REFRAIN

NIGHT OUT by Anonymous in NC

As we neared the restaurant, I was able to find a parking space entrance. As I shut off the engine my wife said, “You know a gentleman would open the door for a lady.” 

In my usual comedic way, I responded by looking around and said, “Don’t see one around. Guess I’ll have to do.” 

I walked around and opened the passenger door. I looked down and got a nice surprise. Usually, my wife wears pantyhose; always nice and sheer, but always pantyhose. But as she pulled her dress up a bit and I could see the tops of stockings and a reflection of a metal garter fastened securely. She looked up at me, grinned and held up her hand. I took her hand to help her out of the car. As she got up out of the car, she made an exaggerated motion that caused her dress skirt to rise up and show more of her bare thigh.

We entered the restaurant. It has cozy booths and candle lit tables. I gave the hostess my name which she found on the reservation list. She led us to a booth off in a corner of the restaurant. We slid into the seat side by side as the hostess handed us menus and a wine list. Our server (well, in my opinion, waitress) took our wine and appetizer order. 

As we sat, I asked, “So, why the stockings? You a bit frisky?”

“Could be,” she replied. “I never really was into wearing stockings. They always seemed like such a bother. But when I was shopping for lingerie, I picked up a garter belt and thought, why not. The clerk helped me pick out the stockings. Did you notice they are seamed?”

Her revealing these facts sent a rush of blood to my crotch. I must have stammered my answer that I hadn’t noticed because she giggled. 

“Here, let me show you,” she said. She then took my hand and lowered it to the seat. She raised her leg up slightly so that she could put my hand under her leg. 

“Feel it?”, she asked. As I gently rubbed my hand under her leg, I could feel the tell-tale bump of the seam.

“So, what do you think? Like them?”, she asked.

In a kidding manner raised my hand and whispered, “Check please.”

“Not so fast, tiger,” she giggled. “You don’t think you can have your way with me that easily?”

She moved my hand from under her leg to the top and slid it slightly inside of her leg. “You can play with my leg a bit if you’d like.”

I gently caressed her nylon clad leg with my fingers. I moved them up and down her thigh, teasing the bare skin above the tops of the stocking. Occasionally I would slip a finger under the stocking and garter feeling the warmth of her leg. I looked around and saw that even though the restaurant was crowded, we were secluded and out of sight of most of the others. I daringly slid my hand further up her leg approaching her crotch. Just before my hand brushed against her panties, she clamped her legs together. 

She gently pulled my hand up and whispered, “Tsk, tsk. A bit bold aren’t we. Think you can get your way with me that easily?”

About that time the waitress brought our wine and served it. She took our order and left us alone.

“So, do you like the idea of me wearing stockings?”, she asked.

“Well, I think a woman in daring lingerie is a sexy sight. And you know what a leg man I am.”

“That’s true”, she said in agreement.

I tried to get my hand back onto her legs but every time I tried it seem our server came by to refill drinks or ask if everything was all right. So, I gave up thinking that later on at home I would not be interrupted. 

We finished eating and paid for our meal. As e headed for the car, I took the opportunity to watch as my wife walked in front of me. The seam of her stocking ran straight up the middle of her leg. The nylon hugged her shapely legs. The curve of her leg was accented because of the high heeled shoe she wore. 

Hoping that I would get another little show, I opened the passenger door for her. Just before she got in she said, “Unhook and unzip my dress.”

I didn’t need to be told twice. While I wasn’t sure what to expect, I did as she asked. As the back of the dress opened into a V, I saw her bra strap and noticed it didn’t have any hooks. I thought to myself, “So, wearing a hook in front job, eh… all right.” 

As I hoped, she took her time getting settled into her seat. She pulled her dress up and again showed me her nylon clad legs which abruptly ended in the tops of stockings. She made it a point of adjusting a garter, pulling it tight. The stocking moved slightly up her leg as she did so. She tugged on the strap a bit more. The metal clasp glinted and flashed.

I closed her door and almost ran around to my side of the car. I got in started up and pulled out into traffic. 

“Drive around the Beltway”, she said. “No need to be in a hurry to get home.”

I headed to the Beltway. In the evening, traffic on the Beltway was never heavy. I guessed she had something in mind and it didn’t take long for me to find out what that something was. As we drove, she leaned her seat back. She didn’t go quite all the way back, but far enough that her body was below the edge of the window.

She grinned at me. “I’ll have to admit. These stockings do make me feel sexy. The material is so smooth.” She placed her foot on dashboard and ran her hands along her leg. As her hands slid up her leg, she pushed the hem of her skirt up. This action exposed the tops of the stockings on both of her legs. She then grabbed the top of a stocking and pulled it up tighter. She repeated that action with the other leg. “I would have thought the garter belt to be uncomfortable, but it’s not. It fits just right..” She twisted her leg a bit and ran her finger delicately up and down the seam. “It took a bit to get the seam straight. But once I got it straight and pulled the garter tight, it stays in place pretty well. What do you think?”

I was glad that traffic was lighter than usual. I set the cruise control so that I could didn’t have to worry about my speed. All I had to do was keep one eye on the road so to speak. Of course, sometimes both eyes were on my wife. 

She continued her teasing. “I did find this very sexy bra. Would you like to see it?” 

I nodded my head. She reached up and turned the dome light on. Then, she took her hands and slowly pulled the top of her dress down off her shoulder.. As she did, black straps appeared. She inched her dress down further revealing her black bra.

In the glow of the dome light I could see that it was very sheer. It was obvious that the bra had an under wire that lifted her breasts. Her nipples were pressing the material, stretching it slightly. I could see her nipples through the sheer nylon material. 

She smiled seductively. “Of course I couldn’t just get a bra,” she said. She continued to slide her dress down. She raised her rear slightly so the dress could slide under her. She guided the dress down her legs and took it completely off. “See, the panties match.”

Sure, enough, the panties were of the same see through material as the bra. They were a very sexy brief that was cut high on the leg. She ran her fingers along the edges of the panty. The elastic of the legs and the waist crossed over the garter belt straps. My wife slid her fingers under the elastic pulling from her skin a bit. She continued her teasing and talking. “They say that good girls wear the garters over their panties; girls that are good where their panties over the garters. I think I’m a girl that’s good, don’t you?”

Glancing at her, I grinned and nodded. “Actually, you’re fantastic.”

“And, I’m quite horny, too. Take me home, or lose me forever.”

With that I headed for home. But my wife continued her tease. She told me how the nylons will feel as she rubbed them all over my body and how hot it would be when she clamped her legs around me and moved her nylon-covered, smooth legs up and down my legs and butt.

You know, she was right.

Crunch Time, Again

By Johnny Yuma

When school let out in June of 1967, turmoil besieged the world. Everything in my life was upside down. Hundreds of Americans were sent home in body bags every week from Nam .  Riots erupted on college campuses across the country.  Racial tensions boiled.  Women burning their bras made the television news. Electric music pushed my favorite Motown R & B tunes aside. In a few short months, dramatic change got on America like white on rice.

My personal world had turned inside out that spring.  I experienced my first auto accident, my best friend’s brother was killed in Nam , I watched my father experience a heart attack, and I was dealt the pain of losing my first love. 

My girlfriend of 18 months gotten drunk at a fraternity party the first weekend of March and she had sex with a college guy.  To make matters worse, her best friend had become a close friend.  My second-closest friend was angered with me because I “didn’t understand”.

An attractive teacher at my high school complicated everything by coming on to me.  Everything I had learned about values was coming undone. I already was loaded with guilt by my religious upbringing for falling into a physical relationship with a girl I loved.  The 23-year-old teacher wanted nothing from me but sex.  I didn’t have a clue what to do about the teacher, but my raging hormones challenged my values. 

Friends that had gone away to college came home that summer smoking dope. My old Little League buddies talked me into smoking pot twice. I didn't catch the high they talked about.  I was afraid I'd become an addict, and marijuana burned my lungs when I inhaled it.  I worried, too, about embarrassing my family if I got caught with drugs. 

Pop spent four weeks in the hospital after his heart attack.  He got in line to have his chest cut open for new triple by-pass surgery by a famous heart doctor.  Dad was 38 when he and Mom got married.  He was 40 when I was born, and he took me everywhere he went.  We were close, but he ruled our house firmly.

Dad liked sports. We didn’t own a car until I was ten. He and I often walked to high school football, basketball games, and baseball games.  Twice we walked to the town across the river to see a small college basketball game.  Once we rode a bus to Pittsburgh to see the Pirates play. 

Pop never showed me his sport – boxing. He had boxed 11 times professionally – winning his first ten fights. The guy that beat Dad in his 11th fight, Teddy Yoraz, won the Middleweight Championship of the World. Dad gave me his insight into life.  Dad was relentless in proving himself at whatever he did – partly because he had lost an arm in an auto accident.

Until his heart attack, he hadn’t taken a sick day since he started his job in 1950. He competed with co-workers on every task at work. Dad didn’t stop until he had done “more” than the guy working next to him. Pop was the proverbial underdog that relentlessly pursued approval.      

My heart ached for Brenda, my old girlfriend. Chemistry between us connected when I was in 10th grade. Within four months, our hormone-driven passions got the best of us.  I fell in love with her.  When she betrayed “our” loyalty to each other, my view of life and the future changed. 

Our families attended the same church and socialized together. We became friends in elementary school.  The time we spent together at school, our shared religious beliefs, and our mutual passion for sports made it seem to us that God brought us together.  Brenda played volleyball and ran track.  She liked going to my basketball and baseball games.  I liked watching her volleyball games because of the short uniforms they wore.

Brenda was five feet nine inches tall. She looked like Marsha Brady.  Her legs were long, lean, and shapely. She styled her long hair straight like lots of other girls in 1967. Every guy in my class envied my relationship with Brenda.  Lot ’s of guys had girlfriends.  No guy I knew had a girlfriend that enjoyed sports, went to the same church, and was accepted by his parents.

Installment II

My friends called me “Opie”.  My goofy “aw shucks” personality and my red hair resembled “Opie” on Andy Griffith’s, Mayberry USA TV show.  My Irish heritage had cursed me with fair skin, reddish hair, and a face with a few freckles that brought out the resemblance to “Opie Taylor”.  I know my looks never buckled a female’s knees.

Nobody knew what Brenda had done at the frat party but, Brenda, Bettie, Bettie’s brother, and me.  I told my mother and father that Brenda said she need “more space”.  Mom and Dad took that to mean Brenda tired of me.  Mom made me hot chocolate – her antidote for all sad times when I was a kid.  

All the turmoil in my life disappeared when I stepped on a baseball field. The baseball looked like a beach ball all summer. I hit over .500 and I slugged a homerun once every eight at bats.  I loved hoops, but I knew after my first varsity game my sophomore year that my basketball ceiling might be at a small college. 

I could hit, my arm caught half the runners that tried to steal, and I handled pitchers well.  Scouts talked to me after games and talked with Pop.  The Pittsburgh Pirates invited me to two tryouts after a scout watched me play a couple times. Going into the “Visitor’s” locker room at Forbes Field was the biggest deal of my life.  Baseball was going so well I was convinced I would get drafted the next spring by a MLB team.

Guys I played baseball with often ventured to Hank’s Frozen Custard on the Junction Stretch after games.  Hank’s had killer cold treats, leading-edge Mexican food we called “Tacos”, and was a place where guys and girls met.  My buddy, Chad Calaberia, introduced me to a girl he knew from Hopewell named Paula.   

Paula’s big brown eyes, long dark hair, and a very small waist accented her fall-in-love looks.  She stood barely five feet tall, and her petite frame gave her a fragile look. I was almost speechless by Paula’s beauty when we were introduced.  Chad had dated her older sister.  Paula seemed shy, but she spoke up when she learned I played sports. 

I worked for the local newspaper in a job that paid just minimum wage.  However, I often got free tickets to sporting and entertainment events.  I carried lead ingots to line-o-type machines late at night, but every once in a while I got to write obituaries just before deadlines.  I craved a “by-line” assignment as I had pulled an “A” in high school journalism.  Local restaurants hounded the editor to start a restaurant’s critic’s feature.  In search of “by line” opportunities in print, I pounded the editor he should let me write a once-a-week restaurant critique.  To prove my point, I’d offer him my personal feedback on restaurants the Pittsburgh papers had reviewed.

When I regained control of my speech after meeting Paula, I remembered I was holding two tickets a concert at the Civic Light Opera in Pittsburgh for three nights later.  I asked Paula if she’d like to go to dinner and the show. I convinced the editor to okay dinner at Poli’s, an out-of-my league restaurant in Pittsburgh ’s Squirrel Hill.

The whole evening was above me. I was afraid I mess up my first “by line”. When I picked Paula up and met her parents earlier that night, I was stunned. She wore a white linen suit with a straight skirt, and deep purple pumps. Paula wore a strand of pearls around her neck and she looked out of my league.  Paula was simply drop-dead gorgeous.    

At Poli's, I ordered for both of us.  I convinced Paula to try lobster. Watching her eat lobster lessened her intimidating drop-dead looks.  She asked me to open the tail for her, and crack the lobster’s claws.  That evening’s lobster was just the third time I’d enjoyed the treat, and helping Paula helped me feel sophisticated.

Paula mistook me for being cool.  When I revealed that we were eating free lobsters as the paper’s restaurant critics, Paula got more excited.  Unlike Brenda, Paula was really practical about money. Before I took her home, I drove into Pittsburgh ’s Schlenley Park , where we made out. Pittsburgh police were cool with kids making out in their cars, and drove around to run off “bushwhackers”.

Since Paula found me so sophisticated, I felt compelled to live up to the image. Within five minutes, my grouping had worked its way up Paula’s thigh. When I didn’t catch a garter clip, I kept going. Soon, I was exploring the area around “home plate”. I was clumsy and asked, “What’s that?”

Paula’s response was, “That’s a gusset. I’m wearing pantyhose. Pantyhose are the latest fashion phenom”. I had taken off my suit coat and loosened my tie. I made a decision I was going too fast, and would use the opportunity to ask Paula out for the weekend.

I asked her if she’d like to go out again before I proposed where we were going.  She said, “Yes” so fast I hadn’t proposed an activity. I asked her where she wanted to go. Paula said, “Let’s go to the drive in.  We can make out, watch the movie, and I’ll make popcorn at home to save money”.

When I picked Paula up she was wearing a yellow oxford blouse, and short straight madras skirt. Her blouse was tucked into the skirt and her breasts looked like they had grown an inch since we went out earlier in the week. I couldn’t figure out why she was going out with me for a second time.  Her mother reviewed the movie for us because her older sister had seen it the night before.

 
Soon after the movie started, Paula and I started making out. Brenda was the only girl I had experienced making out with for more than a party kiss. I kept expecting Paula to stop me as I caressed her breasts, and stroked her panty hosed legs. Paula’s reactions only fed my hormones.

Paula and her older sister came to watch me play baseball the next night.  On my first trip to the plate I hit a home run.  The next time up the pitcher drilled me in the ribs with his first pitch.  The guy hitting behind me lashed a single and I scampered to third base.  I tried to take home on a wild pitch.  The catcher made a quick throw to the pitcher covering and the ball got there 10 feet ahead of me.  I had no choice but to barrel into the pitcher.  The collision caused his hat to go one direction, the ball another, and his glove another. 

Paula told me she thought I was crazy for causing such a collision.  I made sure she understood my team needed the run.  Also, I told her I was getting my payback for the pitcher’s fastball in my ribs.  Her sister drove us to Hank’s after the game, and then drove me home.

On our fourth date, Paula and I succumbed to our passion at a drive-in movie.  Like most 17-year-olds, I carried protection. But, I had not expected to use it that night. As I started to take Paula’s blouse off, Paula told me she had never “done it” before.  She said she was afraid. I stopped, but Paula pulled me closer to her.

Paula’s blood-stained pantyhose were proof she was truthful with me about her prior experience. She had just turned 16 the prior month. I felt terrible. I barely knew her, I still carried a torch for Brenda, but I had touched a button in her that lit up passion I didn’t understand.

When I got home from church the next day, Paula called to ask me to her house for dinner with her family. Brenda’s mom had already asked my whole family to their house for desert after Sunday Night church. Paula’s invite let me slide out of going to Brenda’s house.

Even though I was still in love with Brenda, Paula could light my fire with her big brown eyes. I didn’t understand why Paula delighted in delighting me.

Installment III

The doctor told Dad the next day he couldn’t go back to work in the warehouse. This meant some serious belt tightening at home.  Mom got a job as a cook, and money Dad sat aside for my college was diverted to keep the family afloat.

After I returned from Eugene Curcci’s military funeral, Mom dropped the news on me about household finances. She led with the part about college. At dinner that night, Dad suggested I give up basketball and baseball.  He felt I should concentrate only on football. He said with my size and athleticism that some college coach might offer me a full scholarship.

Dad argued our area didn’t produce many basketball scholarships, while every one of the 16 high schools in the county produced three or four football scholarships every year.  We talked about me getting drafted to play baseball, but he quickly reminded me that only college students could defer military service.  He said, “Make your choice. Go to college next year or go to Vietnam next year”.

I told Dad about Norm Vanlier, Simmie Hill, Billy Zoph, Dick DeVinzio, Chad Calaberia, Butch Zatazelo, and other guys at the playground that got hoops scholarships. I shared with Pop that Dennis Wuychick and Mickey Davis thought they were going to get basketball scholarships. 

Pop and I compromised. I agreed to go out for football, but he’d have to let me play basketball and baseball. Dad knew I’d get stretched. He also knew he I would capitulate on anything he said.  I had never questioned Dad, and I wasn’t going to question him at the start of a crisis.

Brenda’s friends told her about Paula. My friends told her that no girl in our school had looks as good as Paula.  Her mother started asking me to join my parents for apple pie and ice cream after church on Sunday nights. I knew Brenda could wink and pull me back with temptation to kiss her thighs.  After I started to date Paula, Brenda made a point of playing with my emotions.

I really felt guilty about Paula.  Paula was in love with me, and I knew it. I wouldn’t tell her I loved her because I couldn’t lie to her verbally -- even though making love to her was a bigger lie.

I honored my promise to Brenda not call Brenda in July and August. Brenda was still mad at me for not forgiving her actions under the “spell” of alcohol.  She controlled me by telling me not to call her during the summer. 

My relationship with Paula fed my ego, but I had grown really depressed.  Dad was scared he was going to die on the operating table during his October bypass surgery. Mom was worried about Dad, and was tired every night from working eight hours as a cook at the YMCA. On top of all that, the football coach didn’t want me on his team because I hadn’t played football since grade school.

Paula called me every night before I headed to the paper for work.  She’d tell me she loved me. I felt moral pressure from my training to be honest with Paula, but I was overwhelmed by her physical charms.  The only fault I could find with Paula was the guilt I had about not feeling for her what she felt for me. 

Brenda’s mom cornered me after church Labor Day Sunday. She told me August was behind us, and it was okay to call Brenda. I told her my feelings for Brenda were still strong, but I was seeing another girl.  I gave her I was compelled to “do the honest thing” because she couldn’t refute what was taught at church.

Brenda’s mom told me my parents were going to her house after church that night.  She smiled “big” when she told me she was making apple pie just for me that afternoon.  I refused to commit. At lunch, Mom told me I was joining the family at Brenda’s house after church.  She had committed I would be there.

At church Sunday Night, I sat with a teammate from basketball and baseball in the last row of pews. When she finished singing with the choir, Brenda walked straight to my pew and asked me to move over so we could worship together like we used to.

Pastor Thomas preached about the evils of lust that night. All I could think of was that someone had spilled the details about Paula and me to him. Brenda sat on my left at the end of the pew. She crossed legs, and dangled her navy high-heeled pump on the end of her foot. As soon as she knew she had my attention she slid off her other high-heeled shoe, and caressed my lower right leg with her stocking-clad foot.

Pastor Thomas looked right at me at the exact moment Brenda raised a reaction from me. The very second after he turned away, he looked right back toward me and said, “The Bible says that man that looks upon a woman to lust after her has already committed adultery in his heart”.  Here I was sitting in Church on Sunday Night and I learned I was breaking one of the Ten Commandments just by thinking about sex.  By that logic, I was sinful at least half of every day.

Brenda wasn’t paying attention to Pastor Thomas’ sermon on lust.  Instead, she stoked my lust, and her lust.  I knew every word from his mouth was aimed at me.  Brenda slid over and positioned her left leg against me so our thighs and knees were directly touching. I could feel her garter against my thigh, and her silky stockings sliding against me set my body on fire.

When the pastor issued the invitation for sinners to seek forgiveness, I almost sprinted out of the pew to the front of the church to confess my sins. Brenda had grown adept at reading my thoughts when we were intimate. She whispered in my ear, “Don’t you dare. I don’t want my parents to think we’re doing it. Besides, you won’t really need forgiveness until later.”  The arrogance of her sureness angered me.

I ate two pieces of apple pie at Brenda’s house, and I ate them slowly. Brenda slid her shoes off as we entered her parents’ house, and made sure I saw the reinforced toes and heels of her tan stockings. As I slowly nibbled on the pie, she did her best to crumble my resistance by rubbing her foot up and down my calf.  She got her foot between my thighs, and her silky calf rubbed against my inner thigh.  Her toes rubbed my crotch.

Brenda had me so lathered up my zipper hardly contained the force of the bulge she worked up.  I couldn’t get up from the table because of the fear of embarrassment.  Brenda had tangible feedback of her impact on me that I couldn’t deny. 

Brenda’s knew Miss Daquilla flirted with me, but didn’t know I weakened when I helped Miss Daquilla move into her new apartment.  Brenda was so confident of my "puppy-dog love" for her that she could walk me on a leash. She owned that "Marsha Brady, I'm the fairest damsel in the land attitude."  Crushing my heart a few weeks earlier had fed her ego. 

I loved the determination I mustered to ignore Brenda’s seduction that night. The full-court press she had used with her mother and my mother had pissed me off. Neither of our mothers believed their little babies had been doing the dirty deed.  Brenda’s family doctor assured her mother of Brenda’s virginity status earlier in the year.  My father sensed what was going on, but he was unsure because I never used the condoms he had purchased.  All the little ladies in the church saw Brenda and me as a cute couple.  If the little ladies at church knew “Opie” was an almost insatiable “horn dog”, they surely would have disdained me. 

Installment IV

When I got up Labor Day morning, I had no idea what kind of day I was in for.  I encountered so many surprises that day, it became the longest day of my life.  It also was the most physically draining day I ever experienced.

Racial tensions erupted over the weekend in Aliquippa .  Several cars were overturned and burned. Two different white-black confrontations required police to break them up.  Few communities in the world were as diverse as Beaver County , Pennsylvania . Italians owned the most political clout, but Serbs, Croats, Poles, Krauts, Blacks and Irish Micks mixed with Jews and a few Protestants with ease.

The economic strata were 95 percent working class, with those neighbors that belonged to the United Steel Workers union representing what we called “rich”.

The racial tensions shook me. I didn’t know how it affected my friends from baseball, basketball and football. Italians, Serbs, Blacks, and German farmers had grown to be my close friends since first grade in my small town. I wondered if the race riots would change my comfortable world of relationships. 

School started the day after Labor Day each year.  Coach had scheduled two football practices. Guys on the team weren’t looking forward to the morning practice. After breaking camp on Friday, our scrimmage Saturday Night against Farrell revealed a lot of weaknesses in our team. Coach was red-faced, and cussing mad Saturday night.

I had to work in the lumber yard and didn’t get to go to summer camp. I didn’t get off the bench in Saturday night’s scrimmage. I looked forward to practice until I heard we nearly had race riots.  I wondered how my close friends that were Black would react to me.  Would they be angry?  Would they be tense?  Would our friendships change?  I wanted the status quo, but I wanted to protect the feelings of my friends, too.  While there was race bias in Beaver County , it differed little from other ethnic biases.

After sled drills, we broke into a scrimmage to work on the aspects of our game that broke down in Saturday. Our head coach took the varsity players, and sent the junior varsity with a young assistant, Don Yanessa. Yanni was two parts Howie Long, one part Barry Switzer, and one part, Ken Howard from the 70s sitcom, “White Shadow”. Girls in school moaned when "Yanni" walked by them in the halls. I got placed with the junior varsity, which I felt was an insult to an All-Conference basketball player.

The offense lined up on its 50 yard line, and had 10 plays to go in for a touchdown. Most of the varsity guys thought it would take them four or five plays to score on me and ten sophomores.

Yanni was in Coach’s office when I begged Coach to let me try out. He’d heard me tell Coach I wanted to play football because several guys on the team had taunted me when I was 70 pounds lighter and a foot shorter in 9th grade.  He umpired baseball in the summer and was behind the plate one night when two guys from an opponent tried to dislodge the ball on close plays at the plate.  He remembered I met the second guy square on and leveled him four feet in front of the plate.

Yanni got in my face. When the offense came up to the ball, Yanni yelled, “They won’t  respect you, Opie!” Then Yanni said loud enough for everyone in the county to hear, “Coach thinks you’re a pussy, and you aren’t good enough to be on his field”.

Yanni  set me up at a middle linebacker.  I was completely clueless about what I was supposed to do.  I asked Yanni what I should do.  He said when the center snaps the ball to the quarterback you tackle the quarterback before he hands the ball off. 

I hadn’t played football since grade school, except in the streets. The center snapped the ball and I shot through a gap.  I tackled the quarterback before he could hand the ball off.   It felt good to hit him.

Coach hollered at Yanni, “No, No, No, and a hundred thousand f---ing times no. We don’t want any f---ing blitzes."

Yanni was just 22 or 23 at the time, and his pride was hurt. He looked at me and said, “Get in a 3-point stance, get in a center-guard gap, and blast the gap as soon as the center snaps the ball. I want you to hit the quarterback so hard he won’t want to take another breath until this afternoon.”

I did just was Yanni told me. Coach got red-faced and started cussing at me. He put a red vest on the quarterback and said the quarterback couldn’t get tackled when he had on a red vest.  Yanni’s pride was stoked, and I loved laying a breath-taking hit on the prima donna quarterback that picked on me when he was five inches taller and 40 pounds heavier.

Now, the tables were turned.  I was bigger, yet my basketball quickness and catcher toughness provided me a miss-match advantage.  I hollered at Yanni, “Look coach, they put the pussy in a petticoat so we could kiss him instead of tackle him.”   Coach flipped out at me and called me a smart ass. 

Yanni loved the competitive fire he stoked in me so easy. Yanni wasn’t aware Pop had stoked that fire every day since I was born.  Sometimes that fire burned too hot, but the football field was the place for it.  I loved how it felt to get even with folks that had teased me when I was smaller.  When I exploded my violence upon them, I was just doing my job for my team.

Yanni gathered us into a huddle, and quickly explained to me an “ice play” was coming.   He said Coach was going to test my toughness.   “Ice” is short for isolation. In this play, two backs block the linebacker, and the down linemen double team block on the defensive tackles. It’s a violent play.

On our “ice” play, our fullback was the lead blocker that hit the hole first.  Our FB was a big guy – about 6’6” and 220 pounds.  The wingback was the second blocker and blocked me after going in motion.

Yanni gave me a quick demonstration on how to take on the lead blocker and split the double team.  Yanni’s demo seemed simple to me.  Yanni said,  “Dig in, and meet the first guy into the whole with your best forearm shiver”.  The he smiled and said, “Kick their ass”. 

The big fullback plowed into me just like Yanni promised.  I got lower than the fullback and used the jam technique Yanni had just showed me. I stood the big guy straight up. The second back hit me in the back, but a 130 pound sophomore tackled the ball carrier four yards behind the line of scrimmage.  I had jammed the play.

After ten plays, the varsity was on back on their 40 yard line -- suffering 10 yards of net losses. I had made six tackles and knocked down a pass. Yanni was beside himself. He kept hollering at the offense, “Opie’s gonna get yas, Opie’s gonna to get yas.” Coach was red faced, and tight lipped.  I knew Yanni was going to get it after practice, but I figured he knew better than me what was coming.     

Coach made us start from the 50 yard line again..  He said, “Gentlemen, if we don’t do it right this time, we're doing grass drills for the rest of practice.” After the next ten plays, the varsity had gained three yards. I made several more tackles and broke up three more “Ice” plays where other guys made tackles.  My confidence showed, and none of the varsity hot shots were able to block me. 

Coach ran us through grass drills for 70 minutes. Grass drills make your lungs burn.  Every muscle in your body screams “quit” during grass drills.  In Coach’s version of grass drills we jumped face first into the ground; got up and sprinted five yards; jumped face first into the ground again, got back up and sprinted back to the starting point; then he had us jumped face first into the ground, get up, and sprint ten yards.  At that point we jumped face first into the ground, again; got up, and sprinted back to starting point.  The drill progresses until you get to a hundred yards in five yard increments.   

Nothing I had experienced in basketball and baseball compared to this torture.  Some guys didn’t like the contact of football.  I loved the contact, but grass drills were my enemy.  I admit, though, that those grass drills made us mentally tougher. 

The grass drills kicked my ass, but I was on top of the world because I had made such an impression in our scrimmage.  I really didn’t know what to expect with contact.  I didn’t realize the fire and courage it took to confront the violent contact of football.  Basketball and baseball were contact sports, but football is a violent sport.  I had made Yanni’s day with my kinship with football contact.  Yanni and I became friends. 

When I got home from practice, Paula’s Dad, Mr., Pucci, had left a message with Mom for me to call him. Mr. Pucci ask me to meet him at the Sons of Italy Hall for lunch.  I was concerned.  Mr. Pucci had the worst LMS (Little Man Syndrome) I had every encountered.  I was afraid he learned Paula and I were doing the dirty deed. 

Mr. Pucci worked at the J & L Aliquippa Works, and served as the union as vice-president of USW Local 412.  Mr. Pucci ordered lasagna for me. He told me the SOI's lasagna was even better than his wife’s. He ordered Italian sausage, “Dago Red homemade wine”, and ate Italian bread for himself. He looked me right in the eye, and said, “My wife tells me you took Paula’s virtue, and you’re doing Paula two or three times a week”.  At that point, the lasagna didn’t taste as good as what Mrs. Pucci had made.

Mr. Pucci told me Paula had approached her mother for birth control pills.  He told me  he was absolutely against it, and wanted me to stop seeing his daughter. Mr. Pucci had taken me by surprise.  My worst fear was playing itself out.  

I didn’t know Paula had told her mother about our relationship.  In 1967, young gentlemen didn’t kiss and tell. Proper young ladies denied even thinking about sex – even though I later learned a lot more “did it” than I thought.

Two of Mr. Pucci’s friends came to our table from the bar. They asked him if he was okay, and Mr. Pucci spouted about me stealing his daughter’s virtue. The guys asked him, “You want for us to take him outside and teach him a lesson, Mr. Pucci?”

I thanked Mr. Pucci for lunch and scurried out of the S.O.I. as fast as I could walk.  I was glad I had said nothing to Mr. Pucci.  Mr. Pucci’s friends followed me. I took them for Mafia guys.  They didn’t know when they caught up with me I had picked up a brick. When the bigger of the two guys grabbed me by shoulder, I turned into him with the brick like I was swing at a belt-high fastball.  Blood gushed from his nose and his mouth. He screamed in pain, and fell to the sidewalk.

Not knowing what was next, I kicked the other guy between his legs, and ran home as fast as I could. My heart was racing with the most fear I had experienced in 17 years. Before I caught my breath and my mother knocked on the door to tell me, “That girl, Paula” was on the telephone holding for me.

Paula’s Dad had come home and told her mother about his meeting with me and telling me to stay away from Paula.  He hadn’t told Mrs. Pucci about bringing his goons along.Mr. Pucci didn’t know what happened when his friends followed me down the street.

Paula exploded into shrieks when I described what happened. Her mother took the phone, and asked me to talk with Mr. Pucci.   When I told Mr. Pucci the story about hitting one of the guys with a brick, and kicking the other one between the legs, he said he said, “Shit”.

There was no doubt in my mind that some “wise guy” was going to burst through the front door of my parents’ home any second and shoot us all into a puddle of blood. Mr. Pucci just said, Shit!” and handed the phone to Mrs. Pucci. She said, “Opie, I’m sorry, but Paula can’t talk with you now.”

Since I thought the mafia was less than five minutes away, I knew I had to come clean with Dad. I told Pop about Paula and Mr. Pucci.  “Son”, he said, “a man always gets in trouble when the blood rushes from his big brain to his little brain. You’re in trouble, but I believe I can take care of this thing.”

Then he said, “You did the right thing with the wise guys.  I don’t want you starting trouble, but you’ll always be on the run from those guys if you aren’t respected.  You made it easier to fix this since they have learned you didn’t run and hide”. 

Dad was a Democrat precinct chairman. He called the chairman from Mr. Pucci’s precinct, and told him some of the details.  My dad’s associate called a state senator, and set a dinner meeting set for Wednesday at the Serbian Club in Aliquippa .

Dad and I sat at the table with the state senator.  Mr. and Mrs. Pucci showed up, and they brought Paula.  Mrs. Pucci sat Paula between me and her, and next to Mr. Pucci.  The state senator sat between Dad and Mr. Pucci.  After Mr. Pucci apologized to me, Mrs. Pucci hugged me, Paula cried, and we ate dinner. 

I learned I had, in fact, busted a brick on a low-level mafia wise guy. Mr. Pucci paid the doctor bills for more than 50 stitches, and bought the guy off with $500 cash. I also learned Mr. Pucci crossed a line.  Mrs. Pucci’s father was a “Mafia Don” and Mr. Pucci was in big-time hot water with his wife.  Dad told me not to breathe a word to anyone about the dinner – especially to Mom.

Installment V

I got promoted to the first team in football when we returned for the second practice Monday, Yanni and Coach told me I was playing middle linebacker in the season opener Saturday night. I practiced with the first team all week.

Mr. and Mrs. Pucci took Paula and me to the SOI for dinner Friday night.  Paula looked exactly like a miniature Natalie Wood, a Hollywood star at the time. She wore a white silk dress, with white gloves, and white pumps. At barely five feet tall and right at 100 pounds. Her eyes and face were so beautiful I was astounded.

Paula made me feel special like no other member of the opposite sex had ever done. It made no sense for a gal that looked so drop-dead gorgeous to even go out with me, let alone fawn over me. At dinner she moved her legs next to mine under the table, but her awareness of her father was never in doubt.

Mr. Pucci told me at dinner that he, Mrs. Pucci, Paula, and Paula’s sister were coming to my football game the next night. He mustered a sly grin, and said, “If you hit on the field like you hit on the street, your rivals will put up the white flag by halftime”. I pretended I wasn’t sure I knew what he meant.

Paula walked me to my door when Mr. and Mrs. Pucci drove me home. She had no problem laying a long passionate kiss on me with her parents less than 50 feet away.  At 15 inches taller, I had to slide down to kiss her – even with her 3-inch heels. I told her I’d try to get the family car for after the game if she could get a curfew.

In the 62 games my school had previously played against our hated rival, the good guys had won just seven times. The previous season, our rival had embarrassed us 60-6. We were underdogs – big time underdogs.  A writer for the paper I worked for mentioned it might be hard for our rival’s coach to hold the score down to last year’s drubbing. 

Everyone knew about the scrimmage beating we had sustained a week earlier.  Our rivals returned most of their starters from the prior year.  I knew their quarterback from hoops at the waterworks.

As we were dressing, Yanni called me outside the locker room. He said, "You’re going to be nervous. Don’t think.  You’re playing over an All-State center, but he’s not quick enough to handle you. They won’t read our stunts and blitzes, and you’re gonna get a lot of clean shots. “

Yanni smiled.  He slapped my back on my shoulder pads and looked right into my eyes.  “I know this doesn’t make sense since you were 3^rd string just a week ago, but you are our hammer, Op.  You’ll be the difference between us winning and losing. Our team has to have the confidence that comes from big hits.  You're our hitter, Op.  If you don’t slam the hammer, it could be ugly.”

The heat was oppressive. Our offense couldn’t move the ball, and the all-state center wasn’t as slow as Yanni promised. It seemed like we were playing defense the whole game.  

I found out I was stronger, and quick enough to force Mr. All State into two yip snaps.  We recovered both fumbles. We beat our rivals 7-0, but I had dropped nearly 15 pounds of fluids.

I punished their guys when I had clear shots.  Our lone touchdown was the result of an intercepted after I hit their quarterback on a blitz.  Medics carries him off the field on a stretcher before we kicked the extra point.  The ambulance’s flashing lights going off the field was the symbol guys on our team needed to believe. 

Yanni was beside himself at halftime.  He asked for a head butt from me on his forehead.  The butt opened a cut and he wiped his blood on each of the defensive front seven.  We played nasty defense the second half.  Our opponents didn’t get past the 50-yard line and only got one first down.  I got past Mr. All State twice on blitzes, and snuff every “Ice” play they ran at us.

Coach told us after the game that their team had scored four touchdowns and gained 238 yards last year on “Ice” plays.  He reminded us the “grass drills” we did Monday made us tough enough to win.  I didn’t buy Coach’s logic.  I thought Yanni had been the difference in convincing us we could win.

Paula’s parents let her go to the dance with me after the game. She wore the madras skirt and yellow oxford blouse she had worn on our second date. Of course, she wore  pantyhose. We made love in the front seat of the car while parked in her parents’ driveway.  I kissed her goodnight two minutes before her midnight curfew.

Things with Paula’s parents didn’t add up just like things with Paula and I didn’t add up.  Her mother called Sunday afternoon and asked me to Sunday dinner. Paula’s grandparents from both sides were at dinner to meet me.

Both of her grandmothers fussed over Paula, and both of them went out of their way to treat me nice. Paula’s grandfather on her bother’s side didn’t talk much.  He sat directly across from me at dinner.  The only thing he said was, “Son, I understand you’re good at contact sports”.  He put his head down and smiled.

Less than a week before, Paula’s dad had a pair of goons try to scare me away, and now I was an honored guess in his home. He went on all through dinner about my “vicious” play in the football game the night before.  I was confused.

Brenda had enlisted my mother in her full court press. My mother tried to tell me I couldn’t go to Paula’s for Sunday dinner, but Dad put his foot down.  After I took Paula home after the Saturday game, I went straight to the newspaper to work.  I got off at  6 a.m. and slept for two hours sleep before rising for Church. After church, I crashed again.

Dad got me up at 4 p.m. to get ready to go to Paula’s. He, Mom, and I talked about Paula and Brenda. I made it clear my choice in girlfriends was my call. Dad supported me. Mom griped about differences in faiths, and told me Catholics were going to Hell. Like always, Dad pulled out a "win" when he needed one. He taught me to pick my battles.

Paula was wearing shorts when I got to her house – the first time in three months I saw her without a skirt and pantyhose. The 1-10 numbering system guys used to rate girls looks had already gained traction in 1967. If Bo Derek was a true 10, Paula was every bit a 12 - or higher. Paula was eye candy before there was eye candy.

Paula and I washed dishes and I served coffee and desert to her grandparents. We talked that night about subjects we hadn’t talked about before. I learned Paula had repeated first grade, and was just starting 10th grade. She told me she had little confidence in her intelligence.

When her grandparents went home, Paula and I retreated to the porch swing in front of her house. We talked about our dreams and aspirations – something we hadn’t shared previously. We teased each other, and I found her “tickle spots” for the first time. Paula asked me a lot of questions about Brenda, and if I thought I’d ever get over Brenda.

I hadn’t seen the paper that day. Paula had cut out the article about our game the night before. Coach’s made comments in the first paragraph about the difference in “Ice” play stats from last season.  Coach singled me out, and the paper mentioned my name.  I told Paula I was most proud of getting accepted by my teammates since I was third string just a week ago.   

Paula asked me if the contact scared me.  I admitted to her I was scared “shitless” before the game, but I forgot my fears once we kicked off.  Paula kissed my forehead and squeezed my hand. The next thing I remember was that Paula was shaking me. I had fallen asleep in her lap.

Installment VI

To this day I remember it was nearly 10 o’clock when I got home. Paula lived fifteen minutes from my house, and during the ride home I realized I had fallen in love with her.

As soon as I got home I rushed to call her. Paula answered the phone, and I announced, “Paula, I’m in love with you”. I hung up right away, but I sent her a dozen yellow roses the next day.   The roses took half of my paycheck for a weekend night at the paper.

Mr. White let me clean the offices and the lumber yard after football practice four nights a week. I gave that money to Mom for household expenses and used money from my night at the paper for spending money. The guys in Dad’s union local each kicked in a dollar a week to buy groceries and pay our utilities. My contribution from the lumber yard made the $60 per month house payment.

My studying got done in two one-hour study halls I had each day. Paula and I helped each other with Spanish on the phone each night from 10 – 11. Yanni was the only coach that knew I had an after-practice job. He was also my history teacher and gave me every break possible.  He gave me “A’s” inspite of the fact that my work deserved “B” grades.

Paula flipped out about the flowers. I knew yellow was her favorite color from her clothes. She told me she had felt second-class as “Brenda’s back up in my heart”, and told me she was glad she had finally switched places with Brenda. I corrected her, and told her she was alone in my heart now.  Paula cried.  I told her I had not gotten as mentally close with Brenda as I was with her.  I told her I felt she opened her heart to me, and Brenda hadn’t learned to do that.

Pop survived the heart by-pass surgery. Dr. McGovern told him to pay when he could. My restaurant critic column grew popular with readers, and the editor sent me out one night a week. He paid me for eight hours, and I got a free dinner for Paula and I.. Football went well. Our team finished the season with our school's best record in five years, and I made All-Conference teams.  Colleges were visiting school and talking with me.

Paula and I talked every night, and helped each other with Spanish. When the first nine weeks ended, Paula and I each got A’s in Spanish. Paula had her best report card ever. By Thanksgiving, Mom and Pop had burned all their savings on Dad’s doctor bills.  My college account was the only money left.

Guys at Dad’s work went out on strike, and their financial support dried up. When you’re young and in love everything is right in life. Football had helped my confidence so much. My reputation as a tough guy grew, and I liked it. I broke my right hand in the fourth game. Yanni taped it tight enough that I lost all feeling – so it never hurt. .I missed five plays all season, but couldn't write for six weeks.  I used by left hand to gently stroke and caress Paula's breasts.

Paula’s mother had won the battle for birth control pills, and I convinced Paula to wear stockings when we went out for my restaurant critic dinners. Our relationship grew more intense each week. She never missed one of my games, and her parents often came to the games, too. Mom got to know Paula, and learned to accept the “cute little Catholic girl”.

Paula’s parents let her join me for church Sunday night’s if I went to Mass with her Sunday mornings. At Thanksgiving, Paula shared with me sensitive family issues.

Things that never added up came together quickly.  Paula told me her father kept a mistress on the side, and her mother was aware of his infidelity. She told me it was sort of an old-world tradition with blue-collar Italian men.  Her mother’s father had done the same.

I wasn't surprised when Paula told me her dad was a bookie, and ran a loan shark business out of the mill. She had been her father’s little princess until her 16th birthday when she learned of her Dad’s second life. Our first night of passion resulted from her rebellion, the fact I made her feel so special, and that I was so different from her father.

Paula admired her mother so much for her strength. When her mother learned of her father’s attempts to scare me off, she grew even more determined to get Paula birth control pills to exercise her power.  Her mother’s power was backed by Paula’s grandfather’s high-level Mafia role.

I have to admit my ego was somewhat deflated when Paula didn’t tell me some magical power I owned overcame her and made her want me sexually. When she finally revealed my tenderness and honesty with her won her over, I forgot my early guilt for my loveless lust.

Paula had become the best friend I ever had. I helped Paula believe in herself, and her confidence grew. She no longer saw herself as a petite “Barbie” doll, but as an assertive young lady that believed she could achieve.  Her assertiveness grew weekly, and she took pleasure in challenging me on politics and sports.  Still, she fawned on me in ways I have never experienced since then.

Before we got serious, Paula never considered college. Her father discouraged her from any thoughts of an education.  Her mother had convinced her that an Italian woman’s only place was in the home.

Paula loved coming to my parents’ home. My younger sister was in awe of Paula’s appearance, and loved the attention Paula paid to her. Mom and Dad really grew to like her, and soon she surpassed Brenda in Mom’s eyes. I got my taste for apple pie and chocolate chip cookies from Dad.  Paula fussed over Pop like she did her Grandfathers.   She never came to the house without giving pop a kiss and a sweet treat she had made for him. 

Installment VII

Yanni ran the scoreboard at basketball games. He teased me about “playing up in class” in reference to Paula. He accused me of head butting her so she couldn’t see me when we went out.  When basketball season started, life had grown really good -- except for the financial crunch at home.

The "grim reaper" visited Mom and Dad in the form of a mortgage foreclosure letter just after Thanksgiving. Dad held a family meeting after dinner and alerted us Santa Claus wasn't coming to town in 1967. Pop told me he needed every penny I had available. Dad assured us he felt better physically, but our financial future looked bleak.  He had been turned down for Social Disability since he was qualified physically to work in an office – even though he wasn’t qualified educationally.

Pop allowed me to keep $20 for Paula’s Christmas present, but he instructed me to ask Mr. White for more hours. I suggested to Dad I could drop out of school and support the family.  Pop got mad and told me he’d figure something else out.

Dad’s brother was president of a United Mine Workers Local, and knew Paula’s father. Uncle Bud suggested Mr. Pucci might be able to get me into J & L Steel and that I could trade out daylight shifts so I could finish school.  Entry-level jobs at J & L paid better than Dad made after 17 years in his job. 

That night I called Paula’s Dad, and told him my problem. I asked him for instructions on submitting an application and getting hired at J & L. He told me J & L hired through the Pennsylvania Bureau of Employment, and I’d have to score better than other applicants on a test to get hired.

He said if I scored well on the test he knew people in personnel that would help me. Most of the other guys taking the test the morning I applied looked hung over, and without purpose. Two days later I got called to take a physical, and was instructed to report work at midnight.

I called Paula with my excitement. The job meant Santa Claus could visit my sister, and Dad could save the house. Paula wasn’t enthused. In fact, she was very negative about the whole idea. Her attitude shocked me. When things didn’t add up, I suspected Paula’s father was at the root of the problem.

When I reported to work I got sent to the finishing mill -- where Paula’s father worked. Mr. Pucci had arranged for me to work in the crane which took political bending of the union’s bidding rules. He also arranged for me to work the midnight shift on Sunday’s through Thursday’s. I’d trade shifts with the other two crane operators who were glad to rid themselves of midnight shifts for daylight and twilight.

Mr. Pucci told me the job had the added benefit of working for him on paydays – collecting from guys that owed him money by hanging out at the paymaster’s office on payday. He paid me $50 cash every other Thursday for just a few hours effort. I knew Mr. Pucci had pulled strings to help me, but I also knew what he wanted me to do was wrong.

I wasn’t aware, but Mrs. Pucci continuously threw my “aw shucks, do right” honesty in Mr. Pucci’s face. I learned he put a face on for Paula's sake, but he really resented my values and the fact I had embarrassed his goons on Labor Day when they followed me out of the SOI.  . Mr. Pucci knew he’d achieved leverage over me, but I didn't know how he was about to impact me.

I attended Midnight Mass with Paula and her mother on Christmas Eve. Mrs. Pucci arranged a ride home with friends from church so Paula and I could be alone.   It snowed earlier that day -- providing Pittsburgh a White Christmas. I drove to a spot on Sewickley Heights where we parked on an overlook with vistas up and down the Ohio River . The snow-covered ground was beautiful, but Paula was as cold to me as the chilled air outside the car. For the first time in six months, Paula rejected my advances.

She wanted “us” to talk, but I got left out of “us”. After Paula stopped crying, she punched me with clenched fists as hard as she could until she tired. Then, Paula drifted into a half crying – half screaming – rant for nearly an hour.

Paula told me she was afraid I would break her heart like her father and grandfathers had broken the hearts of their women.  She told me she feared her father would get a grip on me in the mill that I couldn’t escape.  She said her mother had seen her father pull so many other people into his web of deceit with his power at the mill.   

Paula and I talked many times about our future.  We talked of getting married after she I finished my sophomore year in college and she graduated from college.  Paula reminded me I promised her a life where good beat evil. 

After Christmas Day basketball practice, I went to Paula’s house to pick her up for Christmas Dinner with my family. We exchanged presents in front of her parents, but said little on the 15 minute drive to my house.

Paula and I washed dishes and cleaned the kitchen after Christmas Dinner. We talked while we washed dishes, and Paula told me she felt I had given up my soul to her father.  When we got to her door that night, Paula said, “I love you, but I’m afraid to watch you grow into what he is.” She hugged me hard and walked into her house.

The next night I got knocked to the floor in the Holiday Basketball Tournament, and got sent to the hospital with a concussion. Paula visited me that evening, and sat on my bed. She told me she was worried about me.  She asked me to quit basketball and get a job in another mill. 

Paula was right. Her father owned me. When I got back to work he tried twice to get me to drop hot loads on guys in the mill he wanted to kill. Saying no wasn't an option.  Refusing Mr. Pucci just meant I'd become a target for an “accident”. Rarely a month went expired that someone didn't die at J & L - and I learned most of the accidental deaths weren’t really accidents.

I shouldn't have been surprised. Steel haulers were killed in my county every month by snipers. I had friends that paid their way through college starting cars in Youngstown , Ohio for mafia guys. Nearly 3000 folks were killed in mafia slayings in Youngstown during the 60s.

When I told Paula what was going on, she flipped out.  At dinner the next Sunday at my home, she told my parents how her father’s influence had affected me.  She point-blank told me and my parents she would break up with me if I didn’t quit the mill by the end of the month.  She told Mom and Pop I should quit basketball and work in another mill.

Dad made it clear I wasn’t quitting basketball, or my job.  He said I was free to get another job after basketball season, but men at our house didn’t quit what they started.  He said, “We tough things out”.  Paula asked me to take her home.  She cried the whole way.  Paula told me we were through, and she had to move forward in her life.  She said her mother and her had talked through the issue.

Nobody at work knew I was still in high school. Nobody at school, except Yanni, knew I was working in the mill. College football coaches called, but no big schools brought offers prior to national signing day. When national signing day came in February, I didn’t get a scholarship offer.

A small private college ten miles away offered me a partial football scholarship if I’d sign right away. Dad felt the pressure, and told me I could continue working at the mill this way. He encouraged me to sign, and said I could afford to buy a car if I lived at home.

Purdue and Kentucky dropped scholarship offers on me the week after I signed with the small college.   I didn’t understand the recruiting process and Coach never advised me.  Yanni was angry at Coach and my Dad.   When expected first choices don’t sign, colleges go after their back up recruits two or three weeks later. I was already committed.

Basketball progressed as projected. Our team broke the school’s 20-year conference championship drought and won our first two playoff games in the Pitt Field House.

I had lost nearly 20 pounds since Thanksgiving. My play dropped off from the prior season. I was always tired and my fatigue from working in the mill, going to school, and playing ball got to me. My basketball coach thought I might have fallen prey to drugs.  Yanni convinced him the financial strain at home wore on me. 

When Paula broke up with me, I was crushed.  Mom called Paula’s mother without my knowledge, and her mother blamed everything on my Dad and her husband.  She told Mom of my two ill-fated load drops in the mill.

Without my knowledge, Paula made it to our playoff games at Pitt’s Field House.  I hurt for Paula more than I had hurt for Brenda.  Our next game was at the Civic Arena, a 13,000 seat arena in downtown Pittsburgh . During the first minute of the game, I took an elbow to the eye.  I opened a cut on my eyebrow where I had been stitched in ninth grade.  The new cut needed stitches.

The nurse at the Civic arena’s first aid office stitched hockey players, and said I could get back for the second half if I wanted her to stitch me. I asked why it took so long and she told me it took time for the pain killer to set up.

“Damn, the pain killer,” I said, “I waited for this night all my life. I don’t want to miss a second”. I was on the floor for the start of the second quarter, with a shaved eyebrow, five stitches, and a budging shiner.

When I ran out the runway toward the Civic Arena floor, I thought I saw Paula. When I was sure it was her, my heart started racing.  Paula reached out and grabbed my arm as I ran by the seats going back to the bench.  She yelled at me, "You’ve dreamed of playing here your whole life.  Be my hero one more time.  Tough it out, Opie.”

My team was down by nine points when we started the second quarter. On the second trip down the floor I blocked the shot of their best inside player.  I got high enough, and enough of the ball, that I pulled us both to the floor. The refs called a jump ball, and in those days you actually jumped for possession.

Even though I was three inches shorter, I knew I could control the tip with jumping quickness and my long arms. I winked to my sixth grade buddy, James, which meant take a flyer on my jump ball. I won the tap to everyone’s surprise and James delivered an uncontested slam dunk.

Everyone in our small town was at the game, and our cross-river rivals played the second game of the evening. James’ dunk electrified the crowd, and converted our rivals across the river to our friends for the night. Paula's encouragement set me on fire! I was all over the floor. I only scored six points, but I grabbed 11 rebounds and helped hold Mr. All State to just 13 points.

Playing in the Civic Arena was one of the dreams I had shared with Paula during our endless talks.  By the end of the game it was clear I had taken away his game and his fight. Coach decided to stay through the second game so we could return support to our cross-river rivals.

Paula knew I needed to be at work at midnight, and offered to drive me there to help me keep my job.  She kissed me long and hard after laughing at my shaved eyebrow and told me how good she felt watching me experience my dream.

When we got to her mother’s car, Paula told me she was lonely and wanted me. She said, “I still love you, but this isn’t love. I’m horny”. We made love, but Paula made it clear she wasn’t turning back. Our relationship was over.

Conclusion

A month later, Brenda got to me at a weak moment. I had sex with her at our tree house on a warm night in May.  I was still in love with Paula, and Brenda knew it.   Paula never returned any of my calls after the game in the Civic Arena.  Paula didn't play games. She said what she meant, and meant what she said.

Paula had made it clear I had no chance with her as long as her father had influence on me. Dad refused to let me find a job at another mill because he had second thoughts about me getting drafted for baseball.  He had heard signing bonuses were large enough that they might pay off his medical bills. 

My relationship with Brenda was purely physical and social for the next nine months. I wasn’t able to get Paula out of my heart, or my mind.  My hurt was deep.  I developed resentment toward Dad for making his problems and fears my problems and fears.  We lost our closeness and never regained it before his death..

With her friend Bette often tagging along, I issued almost all my social life to Brenda.
I had played college football in the fall of 1968, and kept my job in the mill at midnight. The physical demands of college football were greater than any high school sport.  I got drafted in later rounds, but Dad didn’t let me sign because the bonus was too low. 

The world got crazier after Paula broke up with me. Martin Luther King was shot, and race riots destroyed much of Pittsburgh .  The Tet offensive killed seven guys from my high school in Nam , and I knew four guys that lost digits and limbs. Bobby Kennedy was murdered a couple of months later, and anti-war riots were common at colleges.

The first time I didn't deliver on the accident I told Mr. Pucci I got cold feet. He was red-faced angry and let me know there were consequences for not meeting his expectations. The second time I dropped a load but I had the load swinging so I knew it would miss his target.

Dad ran for political office, and had picked up an income that started in January of 1969 that was better than he had ever earned.   

I quit the mill after a semester of college and I transferred to Kentucky to walk on for football. Twenty-four guys on our small college team had robbed a trained and were tossed from school. I had to play both ways after they were run off, and dropped nearly 30 pounds during the season. I played four games on a hair-line fracture to my left ankle.  Losing Paula, the grinds of small college football and working at the mill had sapped me.  Political and social events of 1968 depressed me, too. 

Bettie visited me for a weekend in Kentucky my first spring.  She told me she had set Brenda up for seduction and knew how I would react to Brenda.  She planned to stay away for a few months, and then she felt she would tell me about her feelings for me.  She told me she didn’t expect Paula to mess up her plan.  Bettie told me how she held her feelings in for years.  She knew when I transferred to Kentucky it was time for her to make a last-ditch effort. 

If you can’t find love in the Bluegrass in the spring, you don’t have love in your heart. Circumstances, and Bettie's guile, drew us together without my knowledge of what was happening.  We’ve been married 33 years. She’s never broken my heart, and is the best friend I’ve ever had. We produced two wonderful children that have made us enormously proud.

During the summer of 1970, I broke my leg in four places, and tore the MCL and ACL. After seven operations, I have a crooked left leg without ligaments to hold it steady.

Brenda passed away a few years ago from injuries in an auto accident.

Paula went to college, and later to law school. She practices family law in Northern Virginia -- outside Washington , DC . She has never married. Bettie and I lived in DC when Paula was in law school.

Chemistry between Paula and I never abated. We met by accident in a Georgetown watering hole.  We shared lunch 2-3 times a month.  I requested an employment transfer after nine months to avoid temptation.  I escaped before I gave in.

Last summer, Paula showed up at a hotel where I was attending a reunion for our basketball team. I agreed to meet her for dinner, and we talked for five hours.

Paula wore a white linen suit like she wore on our fist date, and she wore stockings. After we had shared a bottled of wine, she slid her skirt high enough to reveal the top of her stocking welt, and said, “Can I tempt you?”

“Am I tempted? Yes,”, I replied, “but I'm in love with my best friend. You’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever laid eyes on, but I made a death do us part promise”.

Paula squeezed my hand.  I cleared my choked throat, kissed Paula on the cheek and I scurried to my room