Part 3: She wore a suspender belt

SHE WORE A SUSPENDER BELT
Written by Bert Plomp
Translated by Helena Clarkson

We received instruction in Physical Exercises from Mr. Bosma. This sportsman also led Taveno, the basketball club of our school. Besides a well-known player like Gerrit van Buuren, my brother Theo was part of the first team that caused a furore at the time. Mr. Bosma was charmed not only by the athletic qualities of my brother, but also by my own. I have been in an Utrecht gymnastics club for several years now: called Fraternitas. This association had a gymnasium, belonging to a school on the Adriaen van Ostadelaan, located approximately opposite the St. Aloysius Church. I trained there so hard that my spatters of sweat covered the walls on a regular basis. Because of this training, I possessed a trim athletic figure and I had a huge lead on my classmates during P.E. and was highly regarded by Bosma for this. He regularly asked me to demonstrate an exercise to the rest of the class, on the gym equipment like the “side horse”, “the vaulting box” or “in the rings” and “even parallel bars”. At the end of such a lesson I always helped Bosma with returning these devices in a room separated by a large curtain from the gym and I often chatted with him for a while afterwards.
I had noticed a certain girl since the first day of school, her name was Conny Flanera; unlike the other girls, who still had an immature figure, Conny already had all the contours of a young woman.
Conny had thick dark brown hair, she had beautiful arched eyebrows and dark fiery eyes, which often looked somewhat angry and reminded me of a big sleek cat. As a result, she had a dangerous air about her. She usually wore a close-fitting dark grey wool dress with a hem well above the knee. She accentuates her slender waist by wearing a wide bright red belt that set of her dress to a tee, it also ensured that her firm breasts and her beautiful round hips were shown to its perfection. She walked brisk on shoes with half-high heels, which showed off her sporty calves. Where she was completely messed with my head was the fact you could see that she wore a suspender belt that held up her dark nylon stockings tightly. The little bumps of the buttons of her suspender were subtly drawn on the outside of both her thighs. The fact that it so excited me was probably due to my overheated teenage hormones, as I imagined that, if she forgot to wear her panties, she would have been ready to have sex without ruffling her clothes even, while for a young man like me it was very different. He would have to at least first lower his pants and of course such an action does not go unnoticed in the classroom.
As I mentioned, Conny was constantly throwing fierce glances around her, but between those angry glances, she had given me a scrumptious laugh more than once.
Of course, I was not the only one who had fallen for Conny’s charms. Our history teacher, Mr. De Lange, who taught us World and Dutch History, also was quite an admirer of her feminine charms, although he knew how to camouflage his feelings rather well.
De Lange had hands like coal shovels so big, with which he could give you a blow to your ears where the Battle of Waterloo might have felt like a soft caress by comparison.
Once I ran into such a blow, the rest of the day I walked around with a head that glowed from ear to ear. It had everything to do with a cocky look at which I had treated him shortly before the blow.
Conny, just like me, could look at someone very brazen. For that reason, she regularly had it on the stick with Tall Hendrik also. Still, if he stalked her from behind and pulled out his big hands, I saw in his eyes that desperate look of desire to grab Conny by her firm breasts instead of clobbering her lovely ears, but he always managed to control himself in time.
One Mr. Brouwer taught us in plant and zoology. He was always delighted when we had once again lugged a stuffed animal from the extensive collection of taxidermy to his classroom on the first floor.
Brouwer could expand on such an animal endlessly and quite fascinatingly. Unfortunately, we have never been able to surprise him with a “mounted example of Mr. De Looff”.
In order to trick him, we sometimes dragged a “side horse” from the gymnasium upstairs. He did see the humour of it. On another occasion he was less enthused when we had placed a stuffed animal on every school desk in his classroom, prior to the lesson, and we all had hidden outside the windows on the windowsills.
A class book was kept at school. In this book it was recorded which homework assignments had been distributed, for when a written examination or homework had been agreed upon, who was absent etc. etc. That book was taken from class to class by the class representative and solemnly offered at the beginning of the lesson to the teacher of service. Although in principle every student was eligible for this responsible position, in practice it was almost always the best-behaved boy or the best-behaved girl in the class.
It surprised no one that Conny and I were never nominated for that honour. Conny was not elected, because she always looked angry or impudent and I did not receive that job, because I was not only insolent, but also because I was absent quite often. In the absentee department, I always scored the highest number of the entire school. These absences rarely had to do with illness or the like. Often, I appeared in school on time, but I had to report directly to the director of the school: Mr. Thijssen or his deputy director: Mr. Pieké. This was especially the case in the third grade when I was one of the first to appear in school with long hair. Not excessively long hair, but in accordance with the hair length and hairstyle of Brian Jones of the Rolling Stones that year.
As soon as I had reported to the director’s office, I was informed that I would not be admitted to classes until my hair was cut properly and that I should leave immediately for home.
Being resolutely sent home like this, never upset me very much, for immediately I would disappear faster than a speeding bullet seated on my white “ole-granny bike” direction inner city.
Now it was true that the management of the school could not refuse me access forever just because my hair was too long for their taste; so after a number of vain attempts, the management gave up the fight and from that moment on you saw more and more longhaired characters like myself, making the school premises unsafe.
Since I regularly skipped or was kicked out of class for one reason or other, my name kept appearing on top of the class book.

TO BE CONTINUED

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