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Photo Wizard 2 1/7
All stories on this web site are purely FICTIONAL. The people depicted within these stories only exist in someone's IMAGINATION. Any resemblence between anyone depicted in these stories and any real person, living or dead, is an incredible COINCIDENCE too bizarre to be believed. If you think that you or someone you know is depicted in one of these stories it's only because you're a twisted perverted little fucker who sees conspiracies and plots where none exist. You probably suspect that your own MOTHER had sex with ALIENS and COWS and stuff. Well, she didn't. It's all in your head. Now take your tranquilizers and RELAX.
Photo Wizard
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by Skystomper
Chapter Nine
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I followed through that year as she dated four different guys. Each lasted only
three or four weeks. She was either too hard to deal with, overly fussy, or just
got bored very easy. I was never able to work out which.
Michelle was the stuff of my dreams, and yet would always be out of my reach.
Sad isn't it? Isn't it?
Only once did I ever appoach her.
I waited until the end of the year. I figured that once the atmosphere of peer
group pressure had gone (ie, she finished school), there would no longer be a
taboo against her seeing me. Even if I only lasted the average three and a half
weeks, I would be happy. Just to be able to remember holding that waist, kissing
those lips, feeling those...well, you get the picture. If it only lasted three
and a half weeks, that would be enough to fuel my late night fixations for years
to come.
I waited until she was alone, her friends busy elsewhere. She was sitting on
that same bench, in almost exactly the same position.
"Hi", i mumbled, just a little nervously as I approached. I surprised myself
with how cool I was, though inside the nerves were screaming for air.
She turned to look at me. She smiled - just to be polite but it was enough. It
both relaxed me and threw my stomach in knots. Her eyes were lighting up her
whole face, and she was only being polite.
"Look, you probably don't know me..."
"I've seen you around." She smiled again. She knew what I was trying to do, and
she was being polite beyond the call of duty. At least that was my impression.
"I'm probably way outta line here," I began, fumbling for the words, "but I was
wondering if you'd like to come to a movie with me this weekend." School would
be finishing up on Thursday, so I figured Saturday would be safe.
She smiled again. It was like a fire that could warm me from within.
"You want to take me to a movie?"
I swarmed up as much sixteen year old charm and courage as I could muster and
nodded.
"That's sweet." If I could bottle that smile I'd make a fortune. Then it cracked
and disappeared, and Glenda the Good suddenly turned into the wicked witch from
the west. "But get real junior. You're a kid. Go find some little barbie doll to
take out. Someone your own age." She dropped her leg from the bench and leaned
toward me. "Someone you can handle."
With that she rose and strode away from the bench.
I watched her walk away - those legs I had admired, the bum hidden behind the
school dress swaying from side to side with calculated arcs. That long blonde
hair - always so perfectly groomed - swinging with the beat of her strides.
Michelle Andrews, the girl of my dreams, suddenly became the focus for all my
anger and adolescent frustration. I had pooled everything I had to approach her,
and she had shot me down in flames without a second thought.
That sweet feeling turned sour and put a bitter taste in my mouth for far too
many years.
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