This story was written for a commission based on the wonderful ideas of my patron. This story will be written in parts. :)
Yeah. So I was staring at her. It’s not like I was the only one! I mean, what are you supposed to do when you’re in class with a girl that looks better than the models in magazines and sexier than any actress on the big or small screen?
I was a heterosexual guy. That meant that my eyes instinctively found the prettiest, shiniest member of the opposite sex in any room. And Scarlett was always that.
She dressed to hide it, but it was impossible to fully do so. She was a goddess.
When we were younger, Scarlett had been more outgoing. We had played together as kids. She was, quite literally, the girl next door. As she had entered puberty, however, she had changed, both physically and in personality. Her blonde hair had gained thickness and luster. Her face had grown more and more beautiful. Her body had become more developed, dynamic. But she had become more introverted, less friendly by the month. She began to stay inside more, interact with her friends and neighbors less until she was a virtual shut-in! Weren’t blossoming, beautiful girls supposed to do the opposite?
Shouldn’t she become more confident and outgoing as her beauty ascended from simply amazing to absolutely breathtaking? Shouldn’t she be class president and head cheerleader and, well... basically, the social queen of the entire school?
Instead, she had become shy, almost timid. She went to class, said almost nothing to anyone, then went home, not to be seen again until the next school day.
I sighed as I watched her from behind, luxurious mass of golden hair shifting, fanning over her shoulder, head following the teacher as he walked about the room, lecturing.
When class was over, she rose from her desk, gathering her books. For a fleeting moment, her heartbreakingly perfect ass was on display, despite her baggy skirt, as it pressed outward in an erotic, flawless arc that sent shocks of desire fizzing through my veins.
As she stood, however, its shape was once again lost in the floor-length mass of fabric that she wore as a skirt. I tried to make out the shape of her torso under her heavy wool turtleneck sweater, but, other than the faintest swell in the baggy fabric of what appeared to be a well-endowed chest, the clothing successfully hid everything.
Her face, however, couldn’t be hidden. That alone was enough to fuel my adolescent fantasies for the last several years. Her huge, expressive ocean blue eyes dazzled speech into impossibility when meeting them with my own, not that she ever wanted to talk anyway. I could almost taste the cherry flavor of her succulent lips as I imagined (daily) their plush softness against my own. Her small, upturned nose, her prominent, sculpted cheekbones, her slight underbite, her perfect, brilliantly white teeth--they would be the envy of every magazine publisher in the world.
I wondered again at how she wasn’t already the world’s top supermodel at the very least, based on the look of her face alone. I scoffed at the magazines that were always touting some model or actress as the world’s most beautiful person. I knew better. The world’s most beautiful person was my next door neighbor.
Scarlett hustled away from class in the staggeringly graceful mode of movement she had, disappearing from sight silently and swiftly as she always did.
As I loaded my books into my backpack and closed my locker to walk home, myself, I lost myself in my thoughts once again. Maybe she was the reason I had become obsessed with unimaginably perfect women?
Seeing ever more rare glimpses of this girl, this paragon of impossible feminine beauty, had left me chasing the impossible dream of being with her. I began to read comics featuring beautiful, superpowered women. I watched movies, TV shows, and animated videos from abroad. I couldn’t seem to get enough. My hunger for such things grew and grew until it was virtually all I did, aside from classwork and soccer.
Tonight was no exception. Excusing myself from the dinner table, I bounded up my stairs, eager to see the trailer for the new Superwoman movie that had just been released on Youtube. I pulled out my tablet and started the video, hungrily lapping up every frame. Excited by the prospect of seeing the movie in a few months, my gaze rose to the poster of Superwoman beside my window.
As it did, I caught a glimpse of something else, however. Something completely unexpected.
The curtains in the house next door were swishing back into place.
Had someone been watching me?
I glanced around my room. At least I hadn’t been doing anything embarrassing! All I had been doing was watching a video…
Wait! That was Scarlett’s house!
Had Scarlett been watching me?
The prospect alone sent the biggest thrill of my young life zigging and zagging like a lightning strike down my spine.
The desperate hope that had consumed most of my teenage years rang through my body like the gong of a steeple bell. NO!!! I shouldn’t get my hopes up! It probably hadn’t even been her. It could have been her parents! Even if it were her, it didn’t mean she was looking at me! It just meant that she had looked out the window for a moment. Big deal!
I couldn’t help but wonder, though, whether it had been her.
That night, I couldn’t sleep as my raced with thoughts of what it might mean if that really had been her…
The following day at school proceeded much as the previous had. I watched Scarlett enter each classroom with a sigh, gazing longingly at her lush, silken tresses from behind only to watch her slip away without a word to anyone after each class.
I wanted to ask her if she had looked into my room from hers. I wanted to ask her why she hid her body. I wanted to ask her why she never went out in public aside from school. I wanted to ask her a million other questions as well, actually. But I didn’t. I didn’t have the courage. She just seemed so… unapproachable.
After last period, as I gathered my notebook and books from my desk, I felt a light tap on my shoulder. I whirled. It was her!
I saw a sparkle of something--amusement?--in her eyes and a slight upward bend at the corners of her mouth. I suddenly realized the reason for her reaction. My mouth was wide open. I closed it immediately, hearing the clack of my teeth as my jaw snapped shut. Her expression quickly disappeared, features once again becoming unreadable, her eyes directed slightly down to avoid meeting mine.
Despite summoning the presence of mind to close my gaping jaw, I remained too stunned by the fact that she had approached me to say anything. I broke eye contact myself. It was impossible to think while looking at those gorgeous ocean eyes of hers, even when they weren’t aimed directly at mine. Words floated around my mind but seemed to vanish as I grabbed for them. Luckily, she broke the awkward silence.
“Hi, Mason. I wanted to know if you had some time to talk this evening,” she said meekly.
“Um… yeah, Scarlett! I mean, feel free to come over any time…” I was pleased that my powers of speech had returned just in time. I even sounded reasonably coherent!
“Great! I’ll stop by this afternoon…” With that, she turned and, in that elegant way of hers, glided out of the room.
I stood there, blinking, for a moment, trying to determine whether I was dreaming or whether this had been real.
I pinched myself.
Had it hurt?
Shit! My mind was too preoccupied with visions of azure eyes to remember…
I pinched myself again.
Holy shit! WASN’T DREAMING!!!
Scarlett Amory was coming to my house tonight!
Suddenly, my stomach dropped to the floor. Oh my God! Why had I invited her to my room? It would have been so much better to go to hers!
I needed to clean my room! Should I take down my Superwoman posters? I began to panic.
I hurried home as fast as I could. When I entered my room, my eyes darted around anxiously. I picked the clothes up from the floor, flinging them into my hamper. I picked up my Superwoman comics and shoved them under the bed. I reached up for the pins holding up one of my Superwoman posters… when the doorbell rang.
Oh God. Oh God. Oh God. It was her!
I hesitated. I needed to get the door. The posters would just have to stay up. I hope that she didn’t find them repulsive.
I ran downstairs and opened the door, breathless from my frantic motion. As my eyes fell on her achingly beautiful face, however, I was breathless for a different reason.
My God, her face was stunning! It was difficult to make out any other aspect of her body, still swimming in thick, baggy clothes. I was happy just to be able to look at her face up close, though. Usually, I was sneaking glances from across the classroom.
“May I come in?” she asked hesitantly.
“Oh! Yes! Of course! Sorry…” I stepped out of the way, motioning for her to enter. I had been so caught up in staring at her magnificent visage that I had just left her standing at the door without saying anything. Stupid!
She walked slowly inside.
“Would you like something to drink?” I asked, unsure of the proper protocol when entertaining a goddess-like beauty in your home.
“No, thank you,” she said.
Should I invite her up to my room? Was that being too forward? Should we just stay in the living room? Oh God! What should I do? My hands fiddled with the edges of my pockets, nervous energy blasting through me.
“Do you mind if we go to your room for some privacy?” she asked in a soft voice.
Privacy? Another thrill of anxiety-laced apprehension ripped through me. What exactly did she have in mind?
“S-sure!” I awkwardly bounded up the stairs, Scarlett following regally behind me.
I held the door open for her, and she walked in. Her eyes scanned the room, coming to rest on my Superwoman poster by the window. Her gaze seemed to linger on it as I slowly closed the door behind us.
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