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“Hi!” Once again handing a receptionist his card, smiling his I want to impress you smile, “My name’s Mitch Lipensky…”
When he came through the door, the receptionist, a young woman of approximately Mitchell’s age had looked up and followed his progress to her desk with her eyes focused sharply on his face, thinking, Could it be? And when he gave his name, Yeah!
Chicago, Illinois
October 26, 1956
“…and I’d like to speak to whoever purchases your photography.”
As though confirming what she knew to be a fact, looking at his card, appearing slightly flustered, “Um, yes.” Pointing to the sofa, “Why don’t you have a seat and I’ll see if Mister ”—making no effort to lift the phone—“Nocera’s available.”
“Yes, thanks.” Removing his coat, going to the sofa, he sat, then looked at the young woman behind the desk, who was now openly staring at him.
Mitchell’s red, windblown face, which had regained some of its natural color during the wait in the lobby and the elevator ride to the seventeenth floor, once again became flushed, not with cold, though, but embarrassment as their eyes locked and held for a number of seconds. Finally, forcing his away, he thumbed through one of the magazines on the chrome and glass table.
“You don’t remember me, huh?”
“You don’t remember me?” Looking up, Should I know her? Sitting behind the desk, he had no idea of her height, but could see she was homely and, by her upper body, that she was thin. “Sorry, I…”
“We were kids. It’s been about, oh…” Breaking her intense gaze, she looked at the ceiling, then back at Mitchell. “It was before Korea, so it’s got to be… what? Seven, eight years?” Waiting for recognition, the young woman still believed the historically accepted—but in his case, erroneous—fact that a guy is never supposed to forget his “first piece of ass.”
“You sure it’s me you think you know?” Leaning forward, studying her face, “I mean, maybe you’ve got me confused with someone else.”
She had mousy brown, shoulder length hair. Her face long and thin with a nose to match. The only thing attractive about the young woman were her eyes—her light blue eyes…
A tendril of a remembrance worked its way into Mitchell’s mind.
“No, I ain’t got you confused with anyone. Remember? Frankie…”
“My God!” Remembering, the name Frankie tore at his heart. “Yeah!” Standing, approaching the desk, “You’re…”
“Gina,” she said, coming from behind the desk. “I’m Gina.”
“My God!”
Gina Glambos and Mitchell Lipensky came together in front of the reception desk in the offices of Hillhouse & Hodges and shared the embrace of two, if not long lost friends, than two with a long gone and all but forgotten carnal knowledge of each other.
The tendril turns to wisps… and the wisps became a floodgate of memories that inundated the mind of Mitchell Lipensky…
Retrospective: Chicago, Illinois; May 28 and June 18, 1949
“Hello!” He’d been lying on the floor eating a pack of Twinkies and listening to “The Green Hornet” on the radio.
“This the La’pish’ky residence?” in a deeply masculine, false sounding voice.
“Lipensky! Yeah, it is.”
“You got a, uh, Mitchell La’pish’ky there?”
“Lipensky! I’m Mitchell Lipensky! Who’s calling?”
“Mitchell La’pish’ky, the Jewish peeeg?”
Quiet a moment, then, “Frankie!” Ecstatic over hearing the voice of his friend from the military school his parents had sent him to for two years during the war, “Jesus, I’m glad to hear your voice!”
“Yeah, me, too! An’ what’s’a matter with you, you big shit? Your hand broken? You can’t call me once in a while?”
“Yeah, you’re right! I should have called! What’s new? What’ch’ya been doin’? How’s high school?”
“Okay, Mitchie, I’ll forgive you for not callin’. And there ain’t a whole hell of’a lot new, an’ school’s okay… So tell me, Mitch, you still cherry? Ever get to see what a cunt looks like?”
Not sure of Frank’s meaning of the word “cherry,” and having no more of an idea of what a vagina looked like now, three months from his fifteenth birthday, then he had when the subject had first been brought up—when he was not quite ten—he said nothing.
“Yeah, that’s what I thought, an’ it’s about time I got’ch’ya laid. Look, why don’t’ch’ya talk to your folks an’ see if you can come an’ spend a couple’a days with me when school’s out… Remember that broad I told’j’ya about?”
Thinking a moment, “Oh, yeah! The one that wants’a see what a circumcised dick looks like.”
“Yeah, that’s the one! An’ she still wants’a see what a whacked off Jewish dick looks like.
“A ‘whacked off Jewish dick’? You sure ain’t changed, Frankie.”
“Yeah, an’ seein’ as you’re the biggest Jewish dick I know…”
“Fuck you, Rizzo!”
“Nah, I been fucked! Now we’re gonna get you fucked! Anyway, for years now she’s been askin’ when’s she gonna get to meet my ugly Jewish pal. Shit, Lipensky, she ain’t even met you an’ she got the hots for you! Hey, all’s you gotta do is talk your ma’n’pa into lettin’ you come to my neighborhood for a visit, an’ I promise you’ll get screwed, blewed an’ tattooed!”
“Blewed?” “Blewed an’ tattooed” not necessarily exciting him, “Frankie, you sure?” “Screwed,” however… “No shit? You sure she told you she’ll fuck with me?”
“Mitch, I told’j’ya. Yeah, she will!”
“Okay, school’s out in a couple’a weeks and I’ll ask my mom’n’dad and I’m sure they’ll say it’s okay, and I’ll give you a call to let you know for sure when.”
“Seen’ as you never call, you still got my number?”
“If it ain’t been changed, I still got it.”
“Nah, it’s still the same.”
“Okay, then, I got it filed under ‘D’ for Dago.”
“Okay! An’ I’ll be hearin’ from you in a couple’a weeks?”
“Yeah! Believe me, as soon as I can! Oh, by the way…” Wanting a name to put to his masturbatory daydreams, “what’s her name?”
“Thought I tol’j’ya. It’s Gina.”
The Girl with Green Teeth
June 18, 1949
The twenty four hour visit to Frank Rizzo’s tough, south side neighborhood did result in a number of firsts for Mitchell Lipensky.
It was the first time he’d ever been physically assaulted because he was Jewish.
It was the first time he’d ever seen a saw dust covered floor in a restaurant, or a raffia bound bottle of Chianti, or eaten pizza, or seen a gallon milk bottle full of homemade “Dago Red.”
And the first time, other than an occasional sip of the thick, sweet kosher wine used in religious ceremonies, that he drank wine… lots of wine
And it was definitely the first, and last time that he had ever met a girl like…
“Gina,” Frank said,” this here’s my pal, Mitchell… Mitchie, this is Gina.”
The word disappointed totally inadequate, Mitchell self consciously nodded his head from across the room. Knowing he should step forward and offer his hand or say hello or do something, instead he just stood there.
“Jeeze, Mitchie, I never knew you were so bashful.” Poking him in the back, Frank propelled him across the room.
Forcing a smile, holding his hand forward, “Hi, Gina,” Mitchell said. “Frank’s told me all about you,” which seemed to be the wrong thing to say because, shooting Frank an angry glance, haltingly taking Mitchell’s hand, pumping it once, Gina released it, letting his outstretched arm hang awkwardly in midair.
After their lunch of pizza and Chianti, now in Frank’s girlfriend’s parent’s apartment…
If Lisa was a bit on the plump side, than Gina was just the opposite. Almost as tall as Mitchell, Gina Glambos was thin, instantly reminding Mitchell of Olive Oyl from the “Popeye” comic strip. Both girls wore the same white blouses and blue skirts—obviously a parochial school uniform—but whereas Lisa wore a small silver cross on a chain about her neck, Gina wore a much larger cross of wood.
Probably to keep vampires away, Mitchell thought. That’s if any vampire would want to put his teeth in that neck.
The pasty white flesh of Gina’s face accentuated the shadow of the darker circle that ran from in front of her ears and around her chin and forehead, and there were mottled whiter streaks, from dribbling water that had run beneath her chin and down her neck. When she smiled the upper portion of her front teeth showed a light, greenish tinge. There was wax in her ears, and her hair, as though she had tried and failed to dye it a lighter color, had a brassy sheen. Gina’s eyebrows had been plucked to a thin line then pencilled over. She has a long, thin nose with a red blemish midway up the sharp ridge.
But to Mitchell Lipensky Gina Glambos did have two noticeably redeeming features: pretty, light blue eyes… and breasts. Although they were little more than two sharp points beneath her white—well, almost white—Immaculate Heart blouse.
Remembering why he was there and why she was there: he was, finally going to see what a girl looked like down there, and get fucked, too. Even so—tits or no tits—looking at Gina, Mitchell had formed an immediate loathing of her and he would rather have been anyplace in the world than there, with this girl.
Gina, on the other hand, misconstrue d his lack of interest as shyness and standoffishness and, looking at him, had immediately fallen into lust.
Noticing his friend’s coolness to Gina, in an effort to bring them physically together, Frank turned the radio on and Mitchell was prodded into dancing with Gina, but not before…
Even though the two glasses of Chianti he’d had with lunch were responsible for a slight amount of light headedness, it took another three, brim full glasses of Lisa’s father’s homemade Dago Red served to him—because he was Jewish?—in a “Porky Pig” jelly glass before…
Gina was able to pull him to his feet and he was—even with five glasses of wine—unwillingly made to dance.
But Mitchell did keep the side of his clean face away from the side of her not—so clean face, and his clean ear away from her not so clean ear, until…
Made brave or, more the likely, stupid by the five glasses of red wine, and—as Lisa and Frank were completely involved with each other—his right hand, somehow, found its way beneath the top of Gina’s Immaculate Heart skirt and beneath the elastic band of her highwaisted, no doubt, Immaculate Heart cotton underpants. And though it did take a moment for the message of what he now held in his hand to reach his besotted brain, when it did…
Ass!
For the first time on his life, Mitchell Lipensky felt the marvellously warm, wonderfully soft flesh of a girl’s buttock, and with this realization the phenomena that affects the male of the species—while in this position—took place and, leaving him a blathering idiot, the blood drained from the cells of his upper brain and, dropping approximately three feet, engorged the cells of his lower brain, and…
ASS!
The warm, smooth, surprising well rounded buttock of this skinny, ugly girl was in his hand! And, Gina is a girl! A real live girl! And, Screw a dirty neck! And Screw green teeth! She’s got an Ass! She’s got Tits! And, Oh, God! Gina has a cunt!! Oh, yeah! And…
Mitchell Lipensky’s mouth was on Gina Glambos’ mouth, and Mitchell’s tongue was in Gina’s mouth… the mouth with green teeth, and…
Suddenly Gina and Mitchell were standing behind the door of Lisa’s pitch black bedroom and it took only a minute till…
Naked, he thought. I’m really naked with a naked girl! And…
Though it was too dark to see “it,” Oh, my God! He had his finger in it and it was so warm and it was so wet! And, Oh, God! a hand, other than his hand, was holding his penis!
In the near sixteen years of his life, his penis had been touched only by himself and, he supposed, by his mother when he was a baby—although his mother sure as hell didn’t count, and…
Oh, my God! This hand felt so good!
Mitchell and Gina stood in the pitch black room with their mouths together, with Gina straining her pubis against Mitchell’s probing finger, with Mitchell straining his pubis against Gina’s encircling hand, until, knowing the lay of her girlfriend’s bedroom, Gina backed Mitchell against the bed. When the edge of the mattress buckled the backside of his knees he fell over backwards and she was beside him and, for the first time ever, Mitchell tasted the wonderful sweet/salt taste of a girl’s breast, and within moments his—very premature—ejaculation was explosive… and as the last bursts of semen arched from his penis to splatter onto Gina’s chest and thigh, “things” began to happen.
Lying on his back in this pitch black room he became dizzy.
The room began to spin…
“Ullpp.”
“Mitchie, what’s wrong?”
The room spinning faster, he sat up as the rotten taste of second hand pizza came to his mouth—“Ullpp!”—along with the putrid taste of regurgitated Chianti and Dago Red… “ULLPP!”
Quickly moving to the far side of the bed, “Mitchie, what’s the matter?”
“Sick,” he replied. “Gotta find the toilet… ullpp, fast!” Bounding off the bed he twisted his ankle on one of his shoes and stubbed his toe on the wall and broke a fingernail scrabbling for the door, and when he found the doorknob he pulled the door open, flooding the room with light that stung his eyes as, “Toilet!” he said, fighting to hold the vomit down. “Need a—ullpp!—toilet, fast!”
On the floor with their underpants twisted about their ankles, surprised by Mitchell suddenly bursting out of the bedroom, “Uh, there,” Frank pointed towards the kitchen.
Lisa, also, had been curious about what a circumcised, what a—in Gina’s words—“whacked off dick” might look like so, covering her breasts with Frank’s undershirt, she stared at Mitchell’s by then, fully flaccid penis.
Mitchell could be heard retching from two rooms away.
Coming from the bedroom, buttoning her blouse, “Too dark in there to see it,” Gina said. “So, j’ya see it?”
“Yeah,” Lisa answered as she buttoned her blouse. “It looked… I d’know, kind’a, uh, naked.”
This lost opportunity was the only time Mitchell and Gina were alone for the day.
Later the two couples went to see a movie, “The Yearling.”
Cleaned and dressed, Gina did look, somewhat, better and Mitchell found that he actually liked her, a little.
Although he did not get screwed or tattooed, in the darkened triangle under the stairwell that led to the Glambos’ apartment, before saying goodbye, in what turned out to be more depressing than sensual, Mitchell Lipensky did get “blewed.”
October 26, 1956.
“Jesus, Mitchell,” standing back, Gina held him at arms’ length, “you grew up great!”
“Yeah,” he lied, “you, too!” Because, for his taste, Gina was still the complete opposite of what he even remotely considered to be attractive in a woman and, truly, she did not look good to him at all, but he did not know what else to say.
No longer having green teeth, Gina was still tall and skinny, at least the upper portion of her body. Her hips, though, from what he felt when he’d held her, and approved of, had widened.
