This story was written on commission based on the wonderful ideas and edits of my patron. This story will be written in parts.
Scarlett approached the poster and touched it with a slender, delicate finger. I was fascinated by what she was doing, my eyes gravitating to her perfectly manicured finger. Even that part of her was sexy. I thought of that exquisite finger running along my skin and shuddered. The hair on my skin rose, goosebumps forming on my arms, formed by that simple, fleeting fantasy.
As her fingertip rose to the top of the woman on the poster, the hem of her bulky sweater pulled up from the top of her skirt, baring the tiniest sliver of perfect flesh. I caught the briefest flash of taut, sculpted abs before her hand dropped back down, bringing the sweater down with it, like a curtain on the show of a lifetime. I swallowed hard, stricken by the tantalizing glimpse of what I was sure had to be the most ravishingly carved stomach on the planet. I realized I was sweating despite my goosebumps. Was it getting hot in here?
Scarlett turned and her eyes completed their examination of my room, coming to rest on the floor next to my bed. My eyes followed her gaze to… oh shit! One of my superwoman comics was sticking out from under the bed. I must not have pushed all of them back far enough in my rush to clean up. Clearly she had seen it. I tried to breathe calmly. It wasn’t that bad, I reassured myself. I mean, she seemed to like the Superwoman poster that I hadn’t had time to take down.
She bent down and picked up the comic, flipping through it. She spoke quietly, deliberately, as her eyes scanned the pages.
“I saw you watching the Superwoman trailer yesterday.”
I should have been ready for that comment, but, judging by the somersaults my stomach was doing, I clearly wasn’t--at least not emotionally. I felt color creeping into my cheeks. Thank God her eyes were still on the comic. I frantically tried to suppress my blush, willing it away, but my efforts only served to make it worse. My cheeks absolutely burned now.
“You seem to really like Superwoman…” she said, eyes rising to take in my surely crimson face. She was clearly expecting a response. Damn it! Why was I reacting like this? I was going to blow my one--and quite likely only--chance with my only crush since… well… forever!
I opened my mouth to speak. Of course, that would be the exact moment that her delicate floral scent touched my nostrils. I couldn’t help but breathe in the fragrant air wafting from her, my sense of smell drinking deeply of its ambrosial stream.
My brain shorted out in a puff of hazy desire.
Talking was now out of the question. My power of speech was gone. My knees wobbled. How was she doing this to me? I couldn’t even see her body! But… what if I could? Images of that momentary glimpse of Scarlett’s delectable stomach flooded my mind’s eye.
It was too much. My knees gave out, and I collapsed to the floor, trembling with arousal.
As I looked up, I saw Scarlett’s face form an expression of sheer terror. Her hands rose quickly to an open mouth, her eyes wide with fear. Those brilliant eyes darted from side to side as if afraid someone may have seen what had happened.
We both froze in those positions for the longest second of my life before she seemed to gather her wits. She stepped toward me and offered me the hand that I had been admiring earlier. I took it, amorous electricity jagging through my nerve endings as her silken skin glided sensually against mine.
I felt incredible force jerk my hand upward, and I flew a few inches into the air before gravity pulled me back to the ground. I landed on the balls of my feet. My eyes widened and hers took on a sheepish look.
Hidden away in the house next door, where she always was, she must be doing some pretty intense workouts. She was strong!
I could feel the power in her grip, it felt like liquid steel under that immaculate skin, its movement flowing and graceful but also impossibly firm. The intermingling sensations of such steely hardness and pillowy softness made my heart flutter. It was how I had always imagined Superwoman’s touch to feel.
Scarlett looked embarrassed, eyes refusing to meet mine.
“I should go,” she said, quietly.
She was gone so quickly, slipping gracefully away, that I didn’t even have a chance to respond. The next thing I knew, I heard the front door close.
I flopped to my bed in disbelief, in relief, in frustration.
Fuck! I had had my chance, and I blew it. Utterly. Completely. FUCK!!!
She would probably never want to see me again! How could I have been such a weak, incoherent fool? Collapsing to the ground just because I smelled her perfume?
What. The. Fuck.
Tears welled in my eyes, but I fought them back and simply lay there, stunned at the roller coaster of emotions that had marked the best… and worst… day of my life.
The next morning, I sat in the back of my first period classroom glumly. When Scarlett entered the room, however, my expression changed to one of wonder as it always did with her room-brightening entrance. It couldn’t be helped. At least I could still look at her from afar as I’d always done.
Today, however, her entrance was different. Her eyes were not on the floor; they were on me. She gave what I thought was a hopeful smile. That couldn’t be right, could it? I had blown it, right? It was probably only hopeful on my part.
I barely heard anything in class that day. It was impossible to concentrate on mundane things like school while my mind worked on the enigma that was Scarlett. What was this morning’s look all about? She had never looked at me as she came to class before! Usually her eyes were glued to the classroom floor. Did I still have a chance with her? To at least see her again? Those questions consumed my mind the entire day. Nothing else mattered.
After last period, she didn’t slip away from the room as quickly as normal. She seemed to hesitate. Her face began to turn toward me. Then it stopped. She disappeared immediately after that.
For a moment, I thought she might come up to me again. She had hesitated. Maybe she wanted to talk to me, then thought better of it?
I walked dejectedly home. What should I do? As I dropped my backpack on the floor of my room and collapsed on my bed, heart forming a lump in my throat from warring feelings, I tried to think. There was clearly something there between us, some remnant of the connection that had begun to be forged yesterday, a tenuous bond I wanted to strengthen so badly it hurt. She had looked at me hopefully. She had almost looked at me again!
Suddenly, my mind became clear. I knew what to do! I leapt to my feet, my legs carrying me outside and toward her house. Today was it. This was my chance to act on our rapidly fading link. If I didn’t do it now, I never would. I knew I should be summoning the courage to speak to her again, but all I could seem to focus on was putting one foot in front of the other to get to her house.
As I reached her front door, I pushed the doorbell and heard the two tones. To my ears they sounded like a death knell. I broke into a cold sweat. What the hell was I doing? Who did I think I was, barging into the house of this feminine goddess? I hadn’t even been able to handle her perfume yesterday! What made me think I could handle being in her house, her sanctum? What if she brought me to her room? Oh, God!
Thankfully, the door opened when it did. One more moment would probably have found me running home like a scared little puppy, tail between my legs.
It was Scarlett. Her eyes gazed into mine, mesmerizing oceans of the purest cobalt blue. I didn’t know what to say! It had taken every ounce of willpower I had just to lug my leaden body to her front door. The only thing that quieted my panicked mind at all was the fact that I saw happiness in her dazzling eyes, joy at my presence.
“Come in, Mason,” she said, her tone light, airy, pleased.
She pulled the door open, and I managed to stagger in. It smelled wonderful inside, like cinnamon. It was warm, cozy. It made me feel more comfortable. My nerves eased a bit, though I could still feel the pressure of the momentous visit.
“Let’s go upstairs,” she said, beginning to climb the stairs. As she ascended in front of me, I noticed for the first time, that, while she was wearing her customary bulky sweater, her legs were in tight, cotton shorts, bare from mid-thigh down. I stared at their toned, athletic perfection as they climbed into my field of vision--hamstrings, then calves, then ankles. Those endless legs were perfectly smooth, like polished marble, until they moved. Every motion brought with it a sudden symphony of striation, though as they relaxed, they returned to their original shapely, silken lines.
I felt a line of drool dribble from my lips, and I quickly moved my hand up to wipe it away and forcibly close my gaping jaw. I was just in time, because she turned an instant later.
“Come on,” she said, motioning for me to follow.
My heart raced as I climbed the stairs--and it had nothing to do with the effort. She disappeared into a room a few feet down the upstairs hall, so I followed, entering what I knew, instantly, must be her room.
I looked around in wonder stepping carefully as if the place were a Roman cathedral. The walls were painted pink, posters of unicorns on the walls, stuffed animals lining the bed and furniture. The only things that struck me as odd were the complete lack of mirrors and the presence of two 150 lb. dumbbells in the corner. 150 lbs! I knew she was strong, but there’s no way she could lift those things. I wondered why they were there.
I was thankful for the curiosity--it buffered my state of disbelief at actually standing in Scarlett’s room! I was grateful for the unicorns and stuffed toys as well, as they gave me something to say.
“So, I thought you were eighteen like me, but I see that you’re secretly, like, eight. I mean, unicorns and teddy bears?” I teased, motioning to the decor.
She laughed nervously and smacked me lightly on the arm. My arm went numb. I used the other to try to rub feeling back into it. She didn’t seem to notice.
“Shut up, Mason! Should I have Superwoman everywhere instead?”
I was my turn to be embarrassed, my eyes searching for something to look at besides hers… maybe her legs…
Scarlett seemed much more at ease with me here, in her own room, than she had been in mine. It was nice to see her smile, to actually say a few words, to interact with someone. It was doubly nice because it was me she was smiling at, me she was talking to. I tried to think of anything I could to keep this conversation going.
“So where are your parents? Should I worry that your dad is going to walk in and kill me for coming here or something?”
“Dad left. Because of me,” her expression darkened. “Mom hates me for that.”
Wrong topic to bring up.
Shit, shit, shit! Change of subject needed stat!
“So why do you wear concealing clothes all the time?”
It was the only thing I could think of. I think I mentioned before. I’m a guy. The caveman part of my brain was clearly in charge right now. My thoughts were of this ilk...
Me, guy with eyes. Her, gorgeous.
Me, see pretty lady. Her, gorgeous.
Me, want to see more of pretty lady. Her, gorgeous.
Me, ask woman silly question. Her, gorgeous.
She looked at me, her expression inscrutable. She cocked her head to the side. Then, she slipped her hands, arms crossing, to the bottom of her sweater and began to pull the heavy fabric upward…
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