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I pressed my lips to hers…

She was an American Indian from the reservation. I was a young sailor. We met, we talked and she took me home. It was the strangest place I ever saw.

I was stationed at the Sandia National Laboratories just outside of Albuquerque, New Mexico. It was the last few months of our special weapons training, and on Saturday nights we’d usually hit the local bars. That’s where I met the beautiful Indian maiden.

Since most of us guys were still teenagers, girls our own age were difficult find, especially in bars. So, we’d pass the time by drinking beer and shooting pool. One night I looked across the room and saw beautiful black-haired Indian girl sitting in a booth with four Indian guys. It surprised me because she looked about my same age. I mentioned her to the bartender and he asked if I’d like to meet her? Of course I would. 

According to the bartender, the local Indians came into town every weekend. They'd stay somewhere locally, and then return to the reservation on Monday. The black haired girl was a regular, but always with her friends. So in order to introduce me, we’d have to wait until she was alone because the Indians might not be too friendly to a servicemen. So, we waited.

It worked. I got my introduction and we hit it off. In fact, she invited me back to her place. Of course, by that time I was so drunk I could barely walk – watery eyes, slurred speech. But we went to her place anyway.

We were on the back porch. This girls was a doll, beautiful face, long shiny, black hair to her waist, and a figure to die for. I pressed my lips to hers, and my hands where everywhere. But she held me off politely, and said that her brothers were just inside of the house. She warned me to be good. Then we went inside.

As we came into the living room I couldn’t believe my eyes. There was no furniture, and the place was completely dark except for an incandescent small lamp in the middle of the floor. At least ten men were sitting Indian style in a large circle around the lamp talking and smoking. She introduced me to each one in turn. They weren’t overly friendly, but everything went okay. Finally, an older man who turned out to be her grandfather told her I should leave so that she could go to bed. It was a nice way of telling me to get lost.

So I went back to the base.

I thought about that girl often, and I returned to the bar every weekend. I don't if it was because I wasn't there when she was, or if she just stopped coming. But I never saw the beautiful black-haired Indian maiden again.