Chapter Three - Flashing Us Her Panties Again
It was a small Boston, Roman Catholic neighborhood, where I grew up, where everyone knew you, where everyone gossiped about everyone, and no one could hide anything from anyone, that is, except for Kathleen. She lived alone at the end of a dead end street that many of the locals didn't even know or forgot existed. She had this little dog, a Beagle named Barky, aptly named because he barked a lot before he'd start howling. That dog made me hate Beagles and because of Barky, the perfect name for that dog, I never warmed to Charlie Brown's Snoopy. The dog barked at everything and everybody, and could bark and howl non-stop for an hour it seemed, before he'd stop from exhaustion. Actually, if it wasn't for her little dog, no one would ever have known she lived there.
With a view of the USS Constitution and the Bunker Hill Monument from her back kitchen window, her house ran perpendicular to the Old North Church on the front side and Atlantic Commercial Street out the back. Only three streets over from Paul Revere's House, she was situated in the most historic section of Boston. She lived across from a historic cemetery, Copp's Hill cemetery, in the North End, the Italian section of Boston, the gate to which was always closed and padlocked.
The local kids. who had too much time on their hands and no respect for anything or anyone alive or dead vandalized the graves of the revolutionary soldiers, both British and American. Back in the '50's, Copp's Hill was the same cemetery, where the robbers of the infamous Brink's Robbery hid their guns and temporarily stashed their cash to retrieve later. There were old tunnels beneath some of the graves that led all over that part of the city. Beginning from someone's cellar, the tunnels were used, when the early American revolutionists of Boston wanted to conduct secret meetings without the British soldiers knowing. Back then, under a strict curfew, it was illegal to walk the streets at night and/or gather outside a house or meet together, even at the Old North Church, especially at the Old North Church.
Her innocuous apartment, unless someone went out of their way to peer in her windows, was discreetly private. Situated across from the cemetery, she abutted a windowless building to the right of her, the park was beside her to her left, and the Boston Harbor waterfront was behind her. Consequently, her shades were always open. I guess she figured, unless all those dead bodies buried in the cemetery could still see and unless someone in Boston Harbor knew where to look with binoculars, no one could see her walking around naked, which is what she routinely did, we all soon discovered.
The city opened the cemetery gates during tourist season from May to September. Every day, around the same time, three times a day, Kathleen lifted up her dog and her leg to climb over the waist high, black, rod iron fence that prohibited her from walking her dog in the cemetery. Even though she had access to the open gate part of the year, she still climbed the fence because the gate was a block distance away from her house and a block distance back. So much more convenient, where she climbed the fence was just across the street from where she lived.
Back then, women didn't wear pants or jeans like they do today. Much in the way that everyone, who boarded an airplane appropriately dressed, most women wore skirts or dresses. Obviously, because that was her uniform of choice, Kathleen enjoyed wearing miniskirts, perhaps because miniskirts were the latest fashion and she had gorgeous legs enough to wear a miniskirt. Yet, every single time she stepped over that fence, she'd flash us her panties. The first time I saw her lift her leg to climb the fence and saw a flash of her panties, I thought I was imagining her sexy in between her leg flash.
Once we all realized that there was a free show at the same three times every day, we all made sure we were there for show time. Having only three network stations, CBS, NBC, ABC, and two UHF stations, channel 38 and 56, it didn't take much to entertain us, especially, when it came to sex. We all loved and looked forward to seeing Kathleen's bright, white and pastel colored panties. She did have nice, long, shapely legs for an old broad and we all got off on routinely seeing her panties without the fear of any repercussions.
Since none of us had a steady girlfriend yet, seeing her panties, especially on a regular basis, was a special sight for us to see. If nothing else, definitely, the flash of her panty gave us more to masturbate over, later, in the privacy of our bathrooms and bedrooms. Albeit just a quick flash, the vision of her panties would keep us entertained for hours and give us something to talk about and joke over later, while playing Whist in the park that night, smoking cigarettes, and drinking beer.
Moreover, fortunately for us, she didn't wear pantyhose. With all of us in agreement that the gay fashion designer, who invented pantyhose should be hung by the neck with a pair of his own pantyhose, we hated pantyhose. The only lingerie better than panties were nylons and garter belts. Every Sunday, she gave us a special treat, when she wore her garter belt and stockings under her miniskirt, her Sunday attire for church. We couldn't believe, when she climbed the fence, while wearing that sexy outfit, too.
"Hey, guys. There's that lady with the dog," said Joey.
We'd all stop playing cards to huddle behind the stone wall waiting for her to walk by with her dog and with each one of us vying to get the best spot for a better view to see more of her panties, while she slowly and carefully climbed over the fence. Barky knew we were there hiding, no doubt, while waiting for her to walk past us, cross the street, and climb over the fence with her miniskirt hiked up practically to her waist. Now that I think of it, she was left-handed, but she turned to face us and lifted her right leg to climb the fence. Being right handed, I always climb with my right leg first. I guess I can say that I'm right legged, too.
Now, that I remember her climbing that fence and flashing all of us her panties, I wonder if she knew we were all there looking. I wonder if she knew she was inadvertently flashing her panties. I wonder if she was flashing us her panties on purpose. Now that I know the sexual woman she was, without doubt, she purposely flashed us her panties. She knew we were there looking.
Nonetheless, the horny fools that we were, we stood there waiting, until Barky finished his business and for her to raise her short skirt nearly up to her waist again to climb over the fence and flash us her panties again on her way out of the cemetery to go home. Three times and six flashes a day, mornings, afternoons, and evenings, as if her flashes were a looping movie, she'd hike up her short skirt and lift her right leg to climb over that waist high fence. The only thing different with her flashes was the color of her panties. A different color each day, Kathleen was our sexy bitch to ogle.
