In 1975, I worked at the Armed Forces Examination and Entrance Station in Newark, New Jersey. I was a Senior Sergeant and had left the Infantry because of wounds received in Vietnam.
I worked in the same general area as Sergeant James Chapman. One day near the end of 1975, Sergeant Chapman returned from work and found his wife and two children gone. She had not paid their bills for three months as she was planning to take her children and go home to Iowa. My wife and I were also separated, so it made sense to accept Chapman's offer to split his house bills and move in together. We lived on Fort Hamilton in Brooklyn, New York. It was around 19 miles or about a thirty-minute drive to work, and we worked the same schedule, eight-to-five Monday through Friday.
Chapman had a girlfriend named Rosalee, who would come to our house several times a week. Chapman was about thirty years old, and Rosalee was seventeen and a senior in High School. I asked him immediately if she was jailbait, but it turns out that the age of consent was fifteen in New York. Rosalee lived in Manhattan but could easily catch the subway within a few blocks from where we lived.
We lived in a two-bedroom house where the bedrooms were on the second floor, like two master bedrooms connected to a bathroom. A living room, dining area, and kitchen were on the ground floor. At the back of the house, we had a patio that overlooked the waterway called the Narrows. The Narrows is the tidal strait separating the boroughs of Staten Island and Brooklyn. It connects the Upper New York Bay and Lower New York Bay and forms the principal channel by which the Hudson River empties into the Atlantic Ocean. Just north of our house was the Verrazano-Narrows bridge, which also connected Brooklyn and Statin island.
Almost immediately, Rosalee developed the habit of just walking into my room without knocking. I had asked her not to, but asking had no effect. She would walk in and start talking; if I were in the chair, she would lie on my bed. One night, she came in wearing a thigh-length negligee made to cup her breasts and push them together. She lay down on my bed, her head on my pillow and her hands cupped behind her head. She looked good, even seductive, although I had never been attracted to her and was often annoyed by her immaturity. As with most 16 and 17-year-old girls, her body was near perfection. So, I walked over to the bed, reached down, and untied the garment's belt. She did not move even when I opened the garment leaving her nude except for her panties; she continued to silently look me in the eye as if daring me to take her. I said put your clothes on and go, Rosalee, or I'll tell Chatman. Unable to shock her didn't work, but my simple lie did. Rosalee liked having two men in the house to play with. To her, it would have been a coup to be having sex with both. While Rosalee did not stop coming into my room, she never dressed provocatively again.
In early May 1976, Rosalee brought another girl with her and introduced her as her friend Chloe. Chloe was very different than Rosalee. Rosalee was about five-one, and Chloe was five-seven; Rosalee dressed as most teenagers in jeans, shirts, and Levi's, while Chloe dressed in expensive dresses and carefully coordinated matched slacks and skirts. Chloe was cultured and carefully educated through private and finishing schools. They were so opposite that it demanded me to ask how they became friends. It turns out they met at a dance studio. Rosalee participated in the studio for three months, and in her words, it was too dull, but it was long enough for them to establish a friendship. Chloe later told me it was not a close friendship, as they traveled in different circles, but a good friendship.
Chloe was beautiful, with strawberry blond hair and green eyes. Her face and body were like porcelain. Later I would meet her mother, who looked like Maureen O'Hara, the Irish actress. Chloe was a younger version of her mother.
Chapman and Rosalee went upstairs within half an hour of arriving, leaving Chloe and me alone. Chloe was intelligent on many subjects and was more mature than some ladies I knew. Her movements were graceful, whether talking or walking, and her laughter was like water trickling down a brook. Something unique about her intrigued me, and it was not just the radiant smile or her eyes so green that seemed to pierce my mind and soul. I knew she was young and wanted to ask her age, but she brought it up before I did. She was always straightforward about everything. I had asked why she had come over with Rosalee, and she replied that Rosalee appeared to be in love with Chapman because she talked about him every time they spoke. I was curious, she said, there is an age difference between them, and I just wanted to see that he was not taking advantage of her. Do you know that I'm also seventeen? She asked. I was taken back by her age as she seemed much older, so I responded.
"I would never have guessed you to be seventeen; I'm thirty-four," I said. "that's twice your age."
I wonder why I said it like that. Was I already considering her as a possible girlfriend? She did not respond directly to the age difference, but I knew it was something she was thinking about. She asked me,
"Do you like to dance?"
"Yes," I answered, "at least some, I can waltz, and I'm learning to disco since we have so many clubs around here."
(The Disco music and dance began in Brooklyn in late 1975).
"My favorite dance," I continued, "is the South American Tango."
"Oh, I love the tango, but hardly anyone knows how. I love dancing? she confessed, laughing; "sometimes I dress up and dance in my room."
We talked of our families; she was the daughter of a second-generation Irish mother and a wealthy New York Jewish doctor.
"My father insisted on naming me, Chloe." She said. " My mother wanted to give me an Irish name, but he won. My parents are divorced now, and my mother took back her maiden name."
She smiled, held out her hand, and said, "Hello, I'm Chloe Sullivan."
I asked her where she lived, and she seemed almost embarrassed as she said.
"My mother has a condo on the upper east side."
I knew this was the most desirable and most expensive location in Manhattan. Where they lived, they adjoined Central Park. I was very impressed. We talked about an hour before Chapman and Rosalee came back downstairs. Rosalee is talking, as usual, announcing to Chloe that we better go home. I was surprised when Chloe walked over to m, hugged me, pressed her cheek next to mine, and asked.
"Sergeant, can we go dancing Saturday night?"
Shocked by her boldness, I answered.
