Daddy's Little Girl?

My daughter has launched a website:

Kaye Mahogany

Yeah. I think she's talented but judge for yourself. Just click on her name.

Car Crashes I Have Known (part one)

September 1976 - Give me a brake, please. I'm just a guy.

Everyone would think that women are the emotional sex. This might be true, even when it comes to driving but not when compared to men. From the minute a guy sees a car that he likes (and begins to drool), to the moment he presses his foot on the accelerator, it's all about ego and emotions. Statistics show that males between the ages of 16 and 25 are twice as likely to be involved in a traffic accident as compared to their female counterparts. Attribute it to hormonal differences or alcohol consumption, but the numbers are pretty clear.  Since auto-time began, men have been the definite winners (or should I say losers) in this particular contest.

Let me start my story by saying, if you have not properly been trained and licensed, you should not be behind the wheel. By the time I was twenty-two, having a partner who knew how to drive (and I didn't), made me feel like it couldn't be that difficult. Within the coming months, I was forced to change my mind.

Having my now ex-wife teach me how to drive, should have made me very knowledgeable in the ways of the wheel but even with her expert tutor-ledge, I had failed the road test twice. Being the male that I was, I was feeling more and more comfortable while driving and growing steadily impatient. After all, I had been practicing for months and the wealth of knowledge that I had amassed, had made me feel like a real driver. Of course, knowledge does not give you wisdom, which I was about to learn.

Men. Do not do what I am about to tell you if you happen to work on the same job site as your wife. It could cause marital discord.

It was lunchtime and I knew that I wasn't supposed to be in a vehicle without a licensed driver but what could be the harm of a quick spin. Our Volkswagen Bug was eagerly waiting to be driven and was sitting in the adjoining parking lot. I took my before-mentioned amassed knowledge and carefully moved the car out of the parking lot. I drove around the block and was feeling very proud of myself as I saw the approaching fence opening of the lot which I had just drove out of a few minutes prior. I was making the right as I was driving up the curb but there was a car parked just outside the fence parked at an odd angle. Not having the experience to judge the distance of the surrounding parked cars, I wound up sticking my front bumper under the rear bumper of  this big, ugly 1975 Chevy Laguna.

I got out of the Bug to inspect the situation and realized that that I did not know what to do next. Should I reverse my car and take the chance of ripping off his (or my) bumper? As I stood there, I began to sweat bullets. The few people passing did not seem to recognize that there was a dilemma but what if a policeman came by. I had no license and nothing on me to prove that the car was mine.

I bounced on the hood of the VW but the two cars just moved up and down together. I  found it hard to nonchalantly dislodge two cars and now one or two people passing were looking. I tried not to pay attention to them and got back into my car.  As I twice attempted to move backwards, my bug wasn't budging. The Laguna made a loud creaking noise, each time I tried the maneuver. It's like the thing was trying to hold me there, while it mockingly laughed at me. The people that were just walking around me, were now slowing to take a second look.  I said a prayer, hit the clutch, put the stick shift in reverse and the slowly gave it gas.

To my amazement, we dislodged. With what felt like an nerve-wrenching inch at a time, I carefully backed up the Bug, drove into the lot and then placed my car back in the original parking space that was still vacant. I hadn't even thought about how it would be explained to my mate that the car had been moved a few parking spaces if the Bug wasn't in the same spot.

I shakily locked the car and then found my way into the job. As I calmed down, I felt as if no harm had been done and I swore that that something similar would never happen again. What I didn't realize was that as minor as the occurrence was, that had been my first automobile accident. I didn't even know that I was leaving the scene of a crime. Nor did it understand how this event would have interfered with my chances of getting a driver's license. For the first time (in terms of driving anyway), my male ego had led me down the wrong path and it wouldn't be the last. Big ego, Little brains.

To be continued.......


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First Kiss (part two) Hot

November 1969 - Man who speaks too often with his mouth full, probably won't notice when it's time to stop eating.  Dyllon's Law

I was fifteen by the time I experienced my first French kiss. Like my first regular kiss, it was hard to forget. By the time it did happen, I'd kissed a few girls but this one was different. Myself and a friend landed at her house after school and this is what I remember.

The old tan window shade was not doing its job. I squinted as the afternoon sun found a way around the side of the area not covered by the curtain. In the background, probably coming from the bedroom, I could hear Tommy James and the Shondells singing I Think We're Alone Now. Regan returned to the living room and sat next to me on the couch. The small talk we were having before she left to get something to eat from the kitchen, did not seem to be resuming. I felt a little unsettled as if there was some expectation to fulfill but as I smelled the food she had brought in, for some reason, I felt more relaxed. All I could think of was that I wanted to kiss her.

She laid the cup of tea and plate, on the table next to her. After Regan smiled at me, she quickly licked her lips and then looked down. The light from the side table lamp, in combination with the sunlight, caused a golden shine to her seemingly soft skin. This made for a sweet enticement but still, I wasn't sure.

"You certain you don't want something to eat" Regan spoke first.

"No, thanks" I responded. "I'm good for now."

"Suit yourself" she said.

She began by taking small bites of the frank as I started talking about someone at school. Her white teeth showed for a brief moment as she bit into the rolled meat. Regan found me staring at her mouth but I looked away and kept speaking as if I hadn't been. Was she doing that on purpose? Was all that chewing a tease of some kind? I realized that, as usual, I was over thinking the situation. This time alone with her was now becoming comfortable and I felt at home. I decided to stop thinking.

Before she was totally finished what was in her mouth, I took the half-eaten roll from her hand and placed it back on it's plate. As I did this, she did not say a word but I could hear her swallowing. This one quiet sound agreed with me that she not only was in acceptance of my obvious moves but wanted to clear her mouth, just in case. I leaned forward and kissed her softly on the cheek. Her head tilted in the direction of my lips. I guessed this was her silent way of letting me know that we were of like minds. I kissed her cheek a second time and then turned toward her mouth.

We kissed, lightly at first, more like two kids puckering-up but that changed after Regan felt my fingertips firmly squeezing the back of her neck. As I pressed forward, I ran the tip of my tongue gently along the outer edges of her lips. To my shock, not only were Regan's lips parting but her slippery soldier reached forward to meet mine. This was so different from any kiss I had experienced before. Our tongues were having their own personal battle which neither cared to win. It was when I placed my hand on her back and then pulled her closer, that I finally heard Regan moan. For the first time, I opened my eyes a bit only to see that Regan's were shut tight. I closed my eyes and found that I was becoming lost in the sweet nectar that was Regan. In my excitement, I placed my other hand on her rib cage and continued the kiss which was now becoming increasingly torrid.

Unfortunately, what was about to happen next would have to wait because the key to the front door on the other end of the room was turning. She and I sat up in enough time to see her little sister struggle through the doorway with two bags of groceries. Regan jumped up from the couch to help carry them in and I stayed put on the couch. The little sister peered in my direction and gave me a "Why didn't you help" look. I would have gotten up if I could have but I was simply trying to be polite.

It you would like to hear the rest of the story, you'll have to check out my books.

Visit my website at EndlessPerceptions.com