Fond memories of my high school sweetheart Robyn. Going to her house after school. Her mom was a homemaker, always at home. Her dad at work. If her mom ever had to run an errand, getting the house completely free for an hour. What do parents thing their teenage daughter and her boyfriend will do when left alone? Watch TV? Weren't they once just as young, just as horny, and just as willing to exploit any opportunity for freedom? They should have known, or maybe it was just denial. But anytime we had the house to ourselves, it was time to explore.
The first and easiest find was her dad's bottles of hard alcohol in his den. As soon as we heard the tires of her mom's car pul down the drive, we'd each take as big a gulp of scotch as we could. We didn't dare take too much, or from any one bottle. But a big shot was enough to feel warm in our stomachs and just slightly buzzed.
It was just enough to push us further to trouble, to snooping around in cabinets and drawers. We found a whole stack of Playboys. We had fun sitting together, Robyn on my lap, flipping through the magazines to the centerfolds. Do you think I'm sexy as Miss January? asked Robyn. Oh yes, I told her, slipping a hand up her shirt and groping her breasts. She giggled and squirmed, but enjoyed the fondling.
The next cool thing we found was her dad's polaroid camera. He was in real estate and apparently bought and sold shopping plazas. He had an entire drawer of shots of shopping plazas. I turned the camera on her, pulled the trigger, and a sheet of polaroid film whirred out the front.
As teenagers, it was an easy next step to a dare. I dare you to take off your clothes and pose like in the magazines.
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