A Little Dutch Flower Girl.
In 1976 I was traveling in the art crowd. It was a super fun group of people; there were actors, singers, theater and opera, makeup people, stage designers, and all-around talented people. I was just a photographer, and they were my friends. Many of us even dated. At one of these parties that were becoming a biweekly thing, we would take turns at whose place we would host it.
The fun part of the parties was if there was a show, it would become an after-party starting at midnight, or if it was a late Sunday brunch, there was always great food and drinks, and someone would play the radio on of the college radio stations. When I held the party at my house, someone would play DJ and play my hundreds of records, a gift from a dear Aunt who passed.
This party was a brunch, a weekly party eggs Benedict was the main course, mimosas or French 75's, and Mexican coffee with Kahlua and Tequila served. Someone started singing folk songs, and a couple joined in with spoons. Finally, someone brought a cute blond young Dutch lady. She brought a box of flowers that brightened the house on this cold day in November.
We were warm around a friendly fire, good friends, music, and food. The Dutch girl was wearing a loose dress, chatting and mingling with people. Just hearing her talk was executing. It had been a long night taking photos of a band till nearly three am. I was a bit knackered. I sat down and drank my second Mexican coffee, trying to tune out the folk songs and get my brain in gear.
I could do better with folk music after at least three drinks. I was on the side porch smoking my tobacco pipe and roasting a joint that was being passed between rooms. The person I was talking to got up to join the folk circle. It left me out of the loop that was OK. I was working on a hangover cure, getting the hair of the dog down, and the J had helped a bit.
When the Dutch girl came in and says. "My name is Annmarie. Sitting down with her back facing the folk singers that put her facing me with my back to the wall. She pulled a tiny metal hash pipe out of her cleavage, and we tapped that bad boy. It was that much stronger than the Mexican dirt weed we were smoking.
This super cool/hot girl says. "Did I know how to go around the world?''
How do you answer that? "OK, I did and do, Was that just small talk, or was that a request?'' I asked.
The talk went from masturbation to blow jobs as the room next door played Dillon tunes. I am twenty-eight, six foot two, two hundred ten pounds, with deep blue eyes and long brown hair. In the summer, with enough sun, it gets a touch blond.
