My Hands Shook with Anticipation

Editors Note: I am in a writers group with John here on Costa Blanca. Before each meeting, we get different prompts in case we don’t know what to write about. This week the prompt was: “My hands shook with anticipation.” What John wrote in response to the prompt was so funny that I laughed until I cried. That’s why I wanted to share it with my readers. This piece of writing should really brighten your day. Enjoy!

Young people kissing

By John Dodd

April 1961, and there I was, in the little store room under the school hall
stage, with Rosie Trawler. An acne-ridden teenager, I knew so little
about girls. Yes, my Dad had told me that when a man and a woman
love each other very much, they lie down together and make a baby.
Fat lot of help that was. Everything that we spotty boys knew about the
female form was garnered from sneaky looks at Health and Efficiency
magazine on the top shelf in WH Smiths when the assistant wasn’t
looking, and from perving over the smutty photos that Wanky Wilson
pinched from his dad’s collection.

Rosie was quite attractive, in a not unattractive sort of way, as long as
you didn’t mind the faint aroma of Vicks VapoRub that seemed to follow her around. Her undoubted attraction to us horny teenage lads was that at the age of thirteen and a half, she had a chest of substantial
dimensions. It was rumoured that she had been known to show it, or
them, to boys that she liked, but despite much bragging there was
nobody who could really substantiate this.

She had asked me to help her to sort out some of the props that were
stored under the stage. It wasn’t really a room, you couldn’t stand up
straight, only stoop, and there was no light apart from whatever filtered
through the cracks between the floorboards of the stage above. We
were on our knees, sorting through old costumes and paraphernalia
when she suddenly turned and kissed me, pushing her tongue into my
mouth before I had a chance to draw breath. Now this was a totally new experience, and to my eternal shame, I hadn’t got the faintest clue as to what I should do next. But adrenaline and surging adolescent hormones conspired to spur me into action, and I tentatively and clumsily started to undo the buttons on her school blouse. To my amazement, this crude Advance was not rejected. She kissed me again and whispered in my ear, “Undo my bra”.

It was then that my ignorance and inexperience showed their true
colours. My hands were shaking in anticipation of seeing, and, god help
me, perhaps even touching, actual, real, female breasts. But before that could happen, there was undoing to be done, and I hadn’t the foggiest
notion how to do the undoing.

Shagger Stevens had told me it was dead easy, just a little clip, you can
undo it with finger and thumb. Jizz Jackson had concurred, claiming that his sister let him practise, but that hadn’t sounded right.

Whatever, I reached around Rosie in search of the simple clip, but I
found nothing of the sort. The only thing I could feel was a sort of hook
and eye arrangement. Was it just the one? No, there’s another one,
and another, and can you believe it, yet one more! Four of them in a
vertical line, taunting me. Sort that lot out with finger and thumb!

Would it spoil the moment if I asked her to turn around and come over
here under this patch of light so I can see what I’m doing? Yes, I guess
it might. Should I just mutter apologies and crawl out of this hole of
embarrassment? No need, as Rosie said quietly, “Let me show you

Oh joy, oh bliss, oh happiness unbound. I conquered, I saw, I came!
God bless you Rosie Trawler, and all who sail in you!

Author biography: John is a retired beer brewer, whose 44 year brewing career started in the UK, then Tanzania, on to South Africa, thence to Dubai (yes really!) and finally Switzerland.  He now lives happily on the Costa Blanca in Spain, where he thoroughly enjoys doing as little as possible, apart from putting pen to paper occasionally, and conducting regular indepth beer quality assurance by means of consumption of the many excellent brews available locally. 

15 thoughts on “My Hands Shook with Anticipation

  1. Oh heck. I followed over from Darlene and whoosh I’m back in the early 70s with similar terrors…. the pyschological scars of those early fumbles. I’d like to say it charmed… but the horror!!

    Liked by 2 people

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