Phil knocked on Dawna's window, lightly. It was about three in the morning, and
he didn't want to wake anyone else, just Dawna. He had been thinking about her
and couldn't sleep and just thought he'd come over and wake her up. He had to
park his car on the other side of the highway from the gated mini-community
known as Emerald Bay, but it wasn't hard to find her house, and not a long
walk. It couldn't be, it was only a block from the gate off of Pacific Coast
Highway to the ocean. Emerald Bay is a little inward swing of the shoreline on
the north end of Laguna Beach, and the name for an exclusive area that includes
about twenty very expensive homes right by the Pacific.
Dawna's window was right on the bay, with the best view in the house. Actually,
she had the master bedroom. Her parents treated her like the little queen that
she was, and she made full use of it.
But she was freaked out by Phil's knock, and ran into her bathroom and turned
the light on. After a while, though, she must have figured out who was at her
window, because she turned the light off, walked through the dark to the side
door and called Phil over. "You dip," she said, "you scared the shit out of
me." "Sorry," said Phil, "I know it's crazy, I just wanted to see you."
At that, Dawna looked over her shoulder back into the house, said "wait a
minute," and then disappeared back into the dark interior. She returned in
about a minute and a half wearing a robe and carrying one of those brightly
striped Mexican blankets. Then she closed the outer door and led Phil down onto
the beach.
They walked south on the beach a little until they were just around the point
and out of sight of her parents' house, and then she spread the blanket out on
the sand and they sat down. They looked out over the ocean, which was lit that
night by a partial moon. There were a few lights from boats out on the ocean,
way out. They talked for a while, lay down for a while, and kissed for a
while.
This was a night that Phil never forgot, and not just because of Dawna's
kisses. It was a combination of the kisses, the warmth of Dawna's flannel
pajamas against his skin, and the dream that maybe, someday, more of the same
would happen with this beautiful girl. Because kissing Dawna was like exploring
an alien world consisting only of feelings, such as tender, sensitive and
patient love combined with a mysterious, deep passion that rumbled around,
hoping to break out into the night.
But it never did break out. Because Phil had no idea what to do next, or any
intention of doing anything. His entire moral upbringing had no category for
anything more, at least not yet. Dawna lay there like Cleopatra in the night, a
mystery of temptation, mockery, objectivity and intelligence. Phil never knew
what to expect next. But he knew that Dawna knew. And even though he knew that
there was more to this passion thing, he had reached his limit.
To understand what he was up against on the temptation side, you have to have a
better picture of Dawna. Seventeen and worldly-wise, she was not tall, but not
tiny either, shapely, but not busty. She had that blond hair cut that was so
popular at the time, which was straight down to a trim line that floated just
below her chin and all the way around her head on that same level. Somehow she
managed a slight forward curl of the tips of the hair, so two points of the
yellow stuff floated and bobbed around her face in a playful way while a
mischievous smile came and went on her perfect, full lips.
Her hands were small, yet strong. The kind of hands that could do knitting or
crewel work. But more than likely they were occupied in petting some stray cat
that she had adopted and fattened up. But all this stuff about how she looked
was nothing in comparison to how she felt. Not how she felt to touch, how it
felt to be around her.
To understand the feeling, you have to imagine a combination of the "come on"
of Mae West combined with delicacy, grace, intelligence, and mystery. She was
alternately playful, demanding, curious, petulant, controlling, confusing,
loving, contradictory, and affectionate. She was considerate in the extreme,
especially if it was an animal or a child in need of consideration. But she
would kill with a look if you ever said or did anything that even sounded
insincere or untrue.
Basically she outclassed Phil in almost every way, including sexual maturity,
knowledge and experience, plus general confidence, social skills and even, as
she was always ready to indicate to him, in intelligence. He thought that the
last one was debatable, but he conceded the others.
Especially the sex stuff. He was a true neophyte. After all, she had actually
made love with somebody, or had sex anyway. He found out later that it was just
that one time with that one guy, but that was still light years ahead of where
he was. Phil didn't know where to start, and whether to start at all.
And Dawna would have been sexy if she had never made love to anyone. It was a
vibe. Plus, she had what Phil's sister Mona called "bedroom eyes," whatever
that is. Just a sensual look. Other women know it when they see it. And Phil
knew it, though he didn't know what to do about it when he got close to it. But
it was certainly fascinating to stand next to, to talk to, and once in your
life to lie on a beach and hold in your arms. That was all he was ready for
just now anyway.
Which was good because Dawna's mother rounded the point just then and told
Dawna to go home, and scolded Phil, saying "You better watch this stuff!" Maybe
it was the late hour, but Phil was offended, especially since her comment
seemed to imply that he was somehow being aggressive with Dawna, and he got
huffy about it and said "If you think anything was happening you're just wrong,
and it's not fair to talk to me that way." But that was the wrong thing to say,
because it was late and tempers were short all around and Dawna's mom just
herded Dawna back home, leaving Phil standing on the beach.
Which was okay for a while, since Phil just sat down and watched the ocean for
a while, but then he noticed the lights of a beach patrol jeep coming up his
way so he scooted up off the beach, past Dawna's house, and over Pacific Coast
Highway to where he had parked his yellow volkswagen bug. He started it up ,
and started to move but he had a flat tire. With no spare.
Normally he would have gone back to Dawna's and her mom would have let Dawna
drive him home, but no way would that happen tonight. So he parked the car
again and started walking the two or three miles south on Pacific Coast Highway
to the left turn up in to the Laguna Beach hills to his house on Bluebird
Canyon Drive.
It was a long walk, and a bit colder than you might like. Southern California
is really a desert with added water. Only in places like Laguna Beach, Malibu
and other beach side areas do you get the typical California weather that
Midwesterners dream about. Just over the hills it's a desert. So it can get
cold at night, and pretty hot during the day. The hills and trees of Laguna
plus the ocean modify the extremes of hot and cold, but it can still get chilly
sometimes, and this was one of those times.
So Phil was looking forward to a long cold walk home when a car streaked by him
going south, and then skidded to a halt, backed up, and then a door opened.
"Get in, Dow!," a voice yelled, and Phil stuck his head inside the car to see a
couple of other seniors from his Laguna Beach High School class, and then
jumped in. The two guys speeding south had been at a bar out on Balboa Island
and were heading home, laughing, but not obviously drunk.
These were some of the rowdier seniors, though, and they hammered at Philip Dow
for being out so late, and got the story out of him of who he was with, and
also that Dawna's mother got mad at him. They laughed, made some remarks about
what a hot babe that Dawna was, and then let him out at the Bluebird Canyon
corner so he could walk the last half mile home.
And the next Monday it was all over the school that Dawna's mom had thrown Phil
out for coming on too strong to Dawna. For a while there it almost seemed like
Phil would be considered normal. But the story didn't last, maybe because no
one really believed it. It just wasn't like Phil.
Phil wasn't known for being aggressive with girls. He was known for being a
perfect gentleman. That was what he tried to be. But at Laguna Beach High
School, the girls didn't know what to do with a perfect gentleman. They knew
what to do with oversexed beer drinking athletes. They knew what to do when out
with members of the S.O.V., which was a not very well protected secret acronym
for the Stamp Out Virginity club. But Phil was harmless, and therefore
uninteresting.
But not uninteresting to Dawna. She thought Phil was cute. And he was, plus
athletic and intelligent. But her attachment to Phil was somewhat similar to
her attachment to her stray animals. She had a special affection for things
that no one else seemed to want.
In short, Phil was not really Dawna's boyfriend, but rather more of a pet, or a
project. The real guys in her life showed up every once in a while and she
would disappear somewhere that Phil could not follow. But now and than she
would emerge and spend a few moments with him, teasing, flirting, and dangling
hope in front of him. But that night on the beach was the closest to being one
of her real guys that he got for a long, long time.
Phil was still a somewhat asexual being, despite being a high school senior. He
didn't think he was unusual, but he had to wonder when sister Mona quoted a
statistic at him that 98% of high school boys masturbate. He thought that the
statistic must be wrong. Mainly because he couldn't believe that he was in a
two percent minority.
He was, but no one knew how far he had come in just a few short years. Just
four years before a friend stopped him in the hallway and asked him why he
carried a bible on top of his books all the time. Later it seemed like one of
the nicest things that ever happened to him in Middle School, that someone
reached out to him and cared to ask why he was being so unusual. But at the
time he simply gave the standard young Christian's answer of the bible being a
witness of his belief in Christ as his personal Savior.
But that was in his old school, when his Father taught in Oceanside. Oceanside
was where all of the Marines from the nearby base hung out, and his Father used
to teach Physical Education and coach basketball and tennis at the base High
School. Then his father got the job coaching tennis at Laguna Beach High
School, and they moved north.
It was like moving up into heaven. Oceanside may be California, but it doesn't
compare to Laguna Beach, or "Laguna," as the locals call it. Laguna has palm
trees and flowers and beautiful girls in bikinis and, on occasion, exotic cars
that cruise by with some relaxing Hollywood executive or star. Laguna really
feels like California. While Oceanside is more like a flat Texas town with palm
trees thrown in.
And when Phil moved with his family to Laguna, he deemphasized the Christian
thing. Not because his beliefs had changed. Just because he was tired of being
unusual. Tired of being that unusual, anyway.
But he still didn't know what to do with a woman. Other than be kind,
considerate, and open doors. He hoped that some day he would be married to a
nice Christian girl and then, because it was holy and in the context of
marriage, somehow they would make love and it would be okay. But other than
that, he didn't see any prospect of breaking through the enormous wall he had
built up to keep himself isolated from sexual experience.
But he didn't mind standing next to the heat now and then. And Dawna, despite
her limited track record, was definitely the heat.