Sex is emotion in motion.

Or how I failed miserably at my first attempt in the late 1960's.

In the late 1960’s I was a naive 18 year-old boy at a flying college in the south of England. My arch rival, and friend, was an Irish lad called Keir. We invited one of the waitresses with an unfortunate nickname of ‘Knocky-knees’, to join us at the local pub for a drink. I fancied my chances….

Extract from my book — “Dancing the skies and falling with style.”

Available on Amazon and www.calvinshields.com/book

Knocky-knees was as good as her word. She turned up at ‘The Bugle’ and joined us at the bar. Looking very self-important, Keir slouched on my left with his elbow on the counter, smoking a black Sobranie. To my right Ben and Chase were deep in conversation about who knew what?

We all said hello as Knocky-knees squeezed in-between me and Ben and asked the landlord for a Babysham.

Knocky-knees wore a bright yellow, short-sleeved mini dress with oversized white lapels, a thin white belt and knee-high white PVC go-go boots. She had straightened her blonde hair and styled it in a bob. She wore heavy eye-liner and her cheeks were accentuated by a dab of rouge. I wondered if the beauty spot on her cheek was real. Knocky-knees towered over everyone in her high heels. With a modicum of imagination, she looked a bit like Twiggy, and believe you me, I had a very fertile imagination.

Keir whispered in my ear.

“Bloody hell! she’s scrubbed up well.”

He leered at her over the froth of his beer.

“She’s not bad looking.” he added, “for a giraffe,” downing his pint in one go.

“Is that a fan belt?” he asked, nodding at her short dress, “It’s about an inch below sea level for God’s sake!”

“I prefer Asian-looking girls” said Chase wistfully to no one in particular, toying with his glass.

Keir ordered another round while Knocky-knees sipped her Babycham and talked to Ben. More accurately, she was talking down to Ben as he only came up to her waist. Keir turned to me, pulled me closer and spoke softly.

“A couple of beers, and I’m beginning to fancy her.” he said lubriciously in my ear, while giving her the once over.

I moved closer to Knocky-knees, my thigh touched hers. She didn’t pull away, she moved closer.

“I wonder if I can get her into my room?” Keir continued.

Knocky-knees slipped her hand in to mine and gently squeezed.

“It’s worse here than being in a monastery” Keir moaned, “I haven’t had a shag in ages.”

Lucky you, I thought, I haven’t had a shag in my entire life.

Knocky-knees took my hand and gently placed it between her legs just below the hem of her dress. The pub was filling up, and we were pressed together against the bar. She started moving against me. I didn’t know what she was doing but it felt good, and she was clearly enjoying it.

Keir leaned across me to talk to Knocky-knees.

“Lillian, you’re looking very pretty, doll” he slurred.

I raised my eyebrows and groaned. What a load of claptrap! I moved my hand higher, my fingers caressed the soft skin between her thighs. She pressed harder against me.

Keir continued to chat her up while my hand continued its upward journey. Her head was close to mine and I could hear her breath in my ear.

Keir put his hand on my arm and murmured in my other ear.

“I think I’m in with a chance, Colin, I hope you understand?”

He turned his attention back to Knocky-knees.

Keir prattled on smoothly and reached across me to take her hand in his. He started to stroke her hand. I slipped my fingers under the elastic of her panties.

Keir lifted Knocky-knees’ fingers to his mouth and gently kissed them, looking intently into her eyes.

“Do you want to come back to the college Lillian? I’ve got plenty of booze.”

“Yes. OK” she replied, her sultry voice loud in my ear.

Keir winked at me with a look of triumph.

Keir stopped the car two hundred yards before the main gate.

“There’s a hole in the fence Lillian, just there, climb through.” He pointed to a gap in the tangle of wire. “I’ll come and get you on the other side.”

She got out and unsteadily tottered towards the fence.

Ten minutes later, I made my way from my room past the dustbins and through the long grass towards the fence. Keir arrived at about the same time. He looked astonished.

“What the fuck are you doing here, Colin?” he blurted out.

I looked at him and smirked.

Knocky-knees slowly walked up, looked at Keir and took my hand.

“I hope you understand?” I said gleefully, as we sauntered towards my room.

Keir stood forlornly, making his best impression of a goldfish without a bowl.

I’m not sure what happened.

I locked the door. Knocky-knees threw me on the bed, it collapsed with a crash and she burst into a fit of high-pitched giggles.

‘Shit! the whole camp will hear’. I thought.

Hurriedly she took off her dress and bra and threw them in the corner. I don’t know why she bothered as she was as flat as a pancake. Growling, Knocky-knees leapt on me, ripped off my shirt and smothered me with kisses. In a tangle of arms and legs, she hit me in the eye with her elbow. I tried to keep up, but it was all too quick and confusing.

She dug her nails into my back and bit the lobe of my ear hard.

“Ouch!” I cried.

“Touch me down there” she demanded. “Play with me now!”

She turned onto her back, took her panties off.

“Here let me show you”, she gurgled impatiently and guided my hand.

Faster and faster we went, with her hand holding mine. She started to buck and yell, her free arm thrashed around and knocked the lamp from the bedside table onto the floor where it shattered. The curtain tangled round her flailing arm.

“Yes, yes!” she shouted at the top of her voice as she pulled the curtain rail from the wall.

It ended as soon as it started.

Knocky-knees lay panting in the debris of my room. Suddenly she sat up. Her eyes flickered.

“I need to get back home to Southampton, now!”

She slipped her panties on.

‘What?’ I thought. ‘Is that it? What about me?’

She looked very irritated and pulled the yellow dress over her head.

“Come on. Hurry up. It’s too late for a bus, you’ll have to drive me.”

Confused, I started to protest, but she glared, and cut me short.

“For fuck’s sake let’s go!”.

“OK, OK, Lillian” I reluctantly agreed, “you’ll need to go back through the hole in the fence and I’ll pick you up on the other side.”

I put on a clean shirt, got dressed and we opened the door. Two or three doors in the corridor were already open and anxious faces peered out. I’m sure they thought I’d murdered someone. It was cold and raining slightly as I walked her to the fence. She stood shivering with mascara running down her face.

“I’ll get the keys to Keir’s car, Lillian. I’ll be as quick as I can.”

I banged on Keir’s door. No reply. I banged harder. More doors opened. More noses poked out.

“Keir!” I shouted. “Wake up!”

A blurry eyed Keir opened the door and stared uncompassionately at me.

“What do you want?” he snarled.

“Can I have your car keys? I need to take Knocky-knees back to Southampton. You said I could?”

He glared at me with pure venom in his eyes.

“Fuck off!”

“I hope you understand,” he said and slammed the door in my face.

Shit! The only other person I knew who had a car was Ben. It was a Ford Prefect front-half welded to a Ford Escort rear. It was a death trap, it drove sideways and had big holes in the floor. But at least it was a car.

I sprinted over to Ben’s block. He opened the door wearing striped pyjamas and holding a very worn teddy bear.

“No problem” he said, yawning, looking confused. “But it doesn’t start very easily.” He handed me the keys.

I tried for twenty minutes to start the car without success. Eventually the battery died.

There was nothing else I could do, so I gave up and went to bed.

We had made so much noise that the whole college knew that she had been in my room.

I had a black eye, a bitten ear and scratch marks down one side of my face. I looked as if I’d done twelve rounds with Mohammed Ali.

Of course, I intimated that this had happened during a mutually satisfying shagfest, and my reputation skyrocketed.

Two days later I swaggered into the canteen and the room erupted in cheers. Keir glowered and refused to speak.

Knocky-knees stood behind the counter serving out mashed potatoes. She went bright red and looked daggers at me.

I strutted to the queue, piled my plate high and sauntered towards her.

The room fell silent.

She scowled at me with her face in a rictus of repulsion.

“Wanker!” she snarled and threw a ladle-full of mashed potato onto my plate.

The gravy erupted from my plate, covered me from head to foot and dripped from the end of my nose.

Everybody howled with laughter and hammered the tables with their fists.