Miss McCaffrey – a short story about a boy and his after school lessons…c’mon we all know where THIS is going. Now we are there.
Tuesday couldn’t arrive fast enough. Miss McCaffrey and I were going to the Metropolitan Museum of Art down in the city. I was looking forward to the adventure. I had only been to the city a couple of times before, and always with my parents. Since Miss McCaffrey and my mom were well acquainted, my folks had no reservations about my going along.
It turned out to be a wonderful day. We spent most of the day going through exhibits. She’s the loveliest tour guide. Then, after dinner, we went for a walk through central park. She took .y arm as we strolled. It was a nice warm evening and we were in no rush. I called my mom and let her know we word be taking a late train back and I had my keys. It was after midnight when we got back to grand central station.
“This has been an excellent field trip,” I told her while we caught the last train out to Port Jefferson, “You know so much about so much.”
“And you are learning a lot about a lot Jeremy.” She completed back. “And have you finished ‘Fear of Flying’ yet?”
“Yes,” I replied. “I even read the good parts twice,” and then it dawned on me, that novel had a very lurid sex scene on a train.
With a sparsely populated late night train we were undisturbed while necking in our seats at the end of the rear car. Shortly after the Huntington station, Miss McCaffrey unbuttoned the fly on my Levis. She already knew that I didn’t wear underwear when I wore jeans. I was about to find out that she wasn’t wearing anything under her dress.
“Let’s see how well you recall that scene.” She said, lowering herself onto me. The motion of the train amplifying her motion.
We both enjoyed each other in the privacy of the deserted car on that late night ride.