Member-only story
Thirsty For Her Kiss
At The Public Library
We are at the library. Bree is reading Little Women, a Jane Eyre novel and I’m reading Tom Sawyer, a Mark Twain Masterpiece. Well pretending to read, we are playing footsies under the table.
I’m unable to focus. Her foot is touching mine. I think of the little big three letter word.
I’m a 15-year-old teenage boy with raging hormones.
I’m so thirsty I want to go to the water fountain, but an embarrassing tent is in my shorts. Every movement she makes, I think about…
She licks her fingers to turn her page. That beautiful mouth, her sweet tasting tongue. She places some of her hair behind her ear.
Then she does something that almost made me soil my Fruit of the Loom.
The Hilltopper Honey stretches her arms over her head. Those magnificent Double D’s. I’ve had enough. I grab her hand.
“Please stop. I’m so thirsty.”
“What? Go to the fountain, silly, you don’t need permission.” She said.
Her voice. That laugh.
“Never mind.”
I’m back watching her. I hope I don’t dehydrate and die. It could be years before Mr Johnson would soften enough for me to make it to water.
