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Her name was Terry. Her real name was Anne. When I met her family and they called her Anne , I said “what the fuck?”
She said,” That’s my real name and I don’t like it.”
She was 5′ 10″ and quite lean but had a killer body. At one point we were talking and she said “thirty six, twenty four-36!”
I said, “Wow!”
She said, “How do you like my pins?”
I said, “They’re quite nice.”
She said, “Damn right they are , now let’s dance.”
The band was not bad, playing cover songs of the late sixties. It was 1970. We danced to “Back in the USSR”
by the Beatles. I can be quite a good dancer if I have had the correct amount of alcohol and drugs and the song moves me.
I have a good sense of rhythm and can move my feet nicely. She was wearing those “tights” that really accentuated her legs. I think maybe they are “panty hose.” I’m not really sure.
I bought her a rum and coke and I had a pint of “Heavy”.
She asked’ “Will you take me home?”
I said, “Of course.”
She said, “You can spend the night but you can’t make too much noise because it will wake my Mum and Dad.”
I said, “OK”.

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