Elvis

I see a lot of posts about female teachers as sexual predators. So much so that I often question if perhaps, I too was a victim?

At the time however, it sure didn’t seem that way. Yeah I had just turned 17 and she was in her mid 30s. 

Was I ”groomed”? I suppose - I was working a summer job and she would come by and “talk” to me. 

I had the sort of summer gig high school kids dream about. I managed the pool club house at Raintree Country Club. I basically rented out stuff, lockers, floats, table tennis paddles, pool tables and cue sticks. I was in charge of everything except the “Cabana Grill”.

She was an elementary school teacher who also worked part time in the main dining room as a bar tender. Her name was Samantha but her nick name was not Sam but rather Elvis.

Elvis liked to shoot pool which presented a quandary as she wasn’t a member so I couldn’t “rent” her a table so I just let her take a cue stick and rack em up. 

My shift ended each day when the pool closed which was normally around sunset and Elvis worked until 10 or later. But one day she came up behind me as I was locking the doors to go home. She had gotten off work early and wanted to shoot some pool. But I had to tell her we had just closed. 

At this point my older self would have known what was up. But at 17 I was clueless, and then she set the hook “wanna go shoot pool some where else?” she asked.

Sure - I replied and the next thing I know I’ve left my Jeep CJ5 in the club house parking lot and Elvis is driving.

Destination - the Double Door Inn by 11 pm I was drunk and Elvis was my new best friend. We went to her house on Club Drive just off Central Avenue.

Samantha was a fan of Elvis Pressley thus the name. She even had a giant velvet painting of Elvis over her bed. 

Elvis Pressley the singer had been dead about 10 years at that time, but the vision of Elvis looking over Samatha’s bare shoulders is permanently etched into my mind and lives on.

Somewhere around 3 am I got dressed and Elvis woke up and asked where I was going I told her that I really needed to go home that my parents would be pissed. Then she reminded me my jeep was back at the club house parking lot. I felt trapped. 

She offered to fix breakfast, but I declined - 30 minutes later I was standing alone in the club parking lot next to my jeep watching the tail lights of her Buick head up Raintree Lane.

Based on many news reports these days, I am sure I never felt so dirty and in need of a shower in my life. I must have wanted to tell my mother, a counselor at school, a priest or maybe a cop but I just sucked it up.

That summer I’d play pool with Elvis at the Double Door, Chalk of the Town on the Plaza, Boardwalk Billy’s and some place on South Tryon.  And every time I’d end up back at Club Drive apparently being abused . I guess I hated myself because I did whatever she wanted. 

I am now, 30 years later, I guess I was a victim so I am pretty certain she stole my youth or something like that. 

There was no big break up. I honestly don’t remember how I escaped or how it ended but every couple of years I’ll find myself on Central Avenue and subconsciously slow down approaching Club Drive wanting to find and reclaim my lost youth!

And still I seem to think how lucky I was to have known Elvis and if I bumped into her today I’d tell her….

“Thank ya, thank ya very much" (IYKYK)