My American Virgin

The mile markers counted down as we approached the California coast. I was dirty, hungry, and tired in no particular order. We had been driving for almost three days straight in a ten-year-old car that was barely still alive. I thought to myself that this might be the dumbest thing that I’d ever done in my life.

…………………….

It started a year ago. I had just finished my sophomore year at college and was home for the summer. After a pickup basketball game at the local park I headed home. As I got close to the house I saw an unfamiliar car parked in front. When I entered my house through the garage I heard voices talking and laughing in the living room.

My dad yelled, “Joe, come in and meet some old friends of ours from our high school days.”

I walked into the living room and saw my folks sitting on one couch and another couple sitting on the opposite couch. Everybody stood up when I entered and dad introduced me. “Joe, this is Frank and Ann Woodward from California. We grew up in the old neighborhood and went through high school together. They are on their way to West Point where their oldest son is graduating and just stopped to say hello.”

I shook their hands and said hello as my dad continued, “And this is their daughter Paula.”

She had been sitting in the corner and I hadn’t spotted her as I came in. She looked at me and gave a shy smile as I said, “Hi Paula.”

I checked her out quickly. She was about five-foot seven-inches tall with brown eyes and brown hair cut so it just reached her shoulders. Her blouse had the first two buttons open so I could see the beginning of a sun-tanned chest. Her breasts were full—pushing her blouse out attractively. Her body was trim, flat stomach and narrow hips. I was instantly attracted to her.

Everybody sat down again, but I realized that the only chair left in the room for me was far away from Paula. On an impulse I went over and sat on the floor next to her chair and leaned my back against the wall. I caught a faint scent of her perfume as I sat next to her.

Frank asked me a couple of questions about college and then the adults went back to talking about their high school years.

Paula hadn’t said anything but she looked at me so I said, “Hi again.”

She smiled and quietly said, “Hi to you too.”

I thought, “She’s as shy as I am, so I guess it’s up to me.”

I asked, “Would you like to take a walk while our folks catch up on things?”

She grinned and nodded yes. When there was a gap in the conversation, Paula asked, “Mom, can I go for a walk with Joe?”

Her dad answered, “Sure, but no longer than an hour—we have to get back on the road if we’re going to keep on schedule.”

We both stood up and went out the front door. I turned and we walked side by side in the direction of the park. Paula said, “Thanks for getting me out of there. I love my folks, but we’ve been in the car for three days now, and we have at least two more days to get to West Point. I need some exercise and all the folks want to do is talk about the old neighborhood.

“You’re going to be a junior in college. Do you like school?”

I answered, “Well some days are better than others. I have a swimming scholarship, which means a lot of time at practice, plus I have to work side jobs for some money, and then I have to study pretty hard to get good grades. When those things get overwhelming, it can be a downer.

“How about you? Are you going to college?”

Paula giggled, “I think I just got a compliment since I just graduated from high school last week. I’m not even eighteen until September twenty-ninth. But to answer you, I’ve decided to go to a junior college south of Los Angeles called Windy Hills, and see if college is the thing for me. I don’t want to waste my parent’s money if I don’t like school, so this is a way to find out. I’ll live with my grandmother who has a house in the same town as the junior college.”

I teased, “I’ve heard every school in California is a party school, so that means yours is too?”

She hesitated a second and then answered, “Well I’m not sure if Windy Hills is a party school, but I’m kind of shy so it probably doesn’t matter.”

Finding it easy to talk to her I replied, “Well then we might have a contest here on who is more shy—you or me.”

She giggled, “You’re not shy Joe. You started talking to me first. You got me out of the house for this walk, and you’re getting me to talk like we’re best friends.”

“Paula,” I answered, “if we were at a party or dance and I came up to you and tried to pick you up, it would be a disaster. I’m kind of a klutz that way. I’m really good at sports and I have a lot of male friends, but put me with a pretty girl and I run out of things to say in about five minutes.”

“Oh,” she laughed, “you can talk to me because I’m not pretty.”

I stammered, “No…no that’s not what….”

Paula interrupted with a light slap to my arm and a laugh, “I’m teasing silly.”

Still embarrassed I said, “You’re very pretty Paula.