Grown Up Love

Carly couldn't help but pull her "Bridgeville Youth Center STAFF" shirt up over her nose. "Hey, do you notice that smell?"

Sonia, the other staff member on duty, kept scrubbing the marker ink and glitter glue from the craft table. "Yeah, I was kinda wondering--oh. Looks like something's going on over there." She nodded toward the other end of the room, where all the kids were now clustered in a circle, snickering, murmuring, pointing at the floor.

Carly tiptoed over and nudged her way through the crowd of little ones, whose giggles got louder as their grown-up in charge got closer.

"Right there!" they shouted. "Look!"

The crime scene was so small that she would've missed it: a brown pile of mush, half flattened with a shoe print.

"Somebody took a shit!"

"Edgar, we don't use bad words here." Normally, she would've given him a write-up right there, but clearly, someone else needed a write-up more urgently than him. "In appropriate words, please, can someone tell me what just happened?"

"Somebody dropped a doodie!" shouted Liam from the back.

Carly shushed the resulting roar of laughs. "Can someone tell me who?"

"Alana stepped in it!" The kids turned toward a red-faced, snot-dripping girl with one sparkly sneaker off at her side.

"Come on; let's go to the office." Carly led Alana out of the arts and crafts room--one hand dangling the biohazard by its shoestrings, the other hand patting Alana's back.

Then came the wicked chorus of "Ooooh!"

"She's

not

in trouble. But whoever did this will be." She shut the door. She figured Sonia could handle the rest.

For an incident like this, their boss Gladys would be the one to phone home. Through her closed office door, it sounded as if she was already busy speaking to someone. But with Alana's sniffling sobs, Carly knew this couldn't wait.

"You're going to be okay." Carly took a sanitary wipe from the sign-in desk and patted Alana's cheek. "We're going to get this taken care of."

Knock, knock.

Gladys just kept talking.

Knock, knock, knock.

Why couldn't Gladys hear it?

Carly wouldn't let this young girl go ignored any longer. She opened the door and gestured Alana in with her.

"...So, we're trying to show the range of ways we support a child's personal growth, beyond just the fun and games. There's a lot of concern these days, you know, that this young generation spends too much time looking at screens, and we're here to help prevent that. You could really emphasize that we're the place where lots come to discover their love of drawing and reading and--"

"Excuse me?" Carly whispered.

"Yes?" Gladys wasn't on the phone. She'd been at her computer, with a young man in the kid-in-trouble chair pulled up next to her.

"Well..." Carly's eyes met the man in the chair.

Tommy?

She hadn't seen him since tenth grade, but she recognized him instantly. And there was no way he wouldn't recognize

her

. Now this was going to sound embarrassing. "There was an incident in the arts and crafts room. Somebody, uh, defecated on the floor, and now Alana needs a change of shoes."

"Why, I never!" Gladys dashed out of the office. As she could be heard rummaging in the storage closet, Carly gave Tommy a pained little "sorry about this" smile. Promptly, Gladys returned with child-sized flip-flops. "And you don't claim to know who did this, do you?"

"No, they just--"

"Wait here." Gladys jogged down the hallway, surely ready to give those children a tirade of terror. It had been a while since she'd stepped out of her office to give one, and Carly knew how long they tended to run. That would be quite a while left alone here with her old classmate.

"Alana, you can go back if you want," said Carly, still holding the soiled shoe. "Maybe to the gymnasium, or the reading room..."

Alana turned and waved bye-bye. "Thank you, Miss Carly!"

Carly sighed, as Alana flip-flopped away, and turned to Tommy. "Just another day on staff duty. You never know what to expect."

"Working with a tough crowd, huh?" Tommy said with a chuckle. Carly took a moment to look at him. Well-groomed hair, strong-looking arms--he looked even more intimidating now.

"They're just...filled with energy. Which is a wonderful thing, don't get me wrong."

"I bet it's very fulfilling." Tommy's gaze was on Carly's chest. The

biggest

thing she was bullied for at their old school. "Carly?" (Ah, just checking her name tag, she hoped.)

"Yeah. And you're Tommy, right? I think I remember you from Chartiers Valley High School."

"That's me, yep. I've just been out in the city, working as a Web and app developer, which can be pretty fulfilling too, in its own right. But I'm cooped up at home a lot. Unlike you, I don't always get to see the people I help."

Carly nodded. "Mm-hmm."

"I haven't really gone out and gotten to know people lately." He smiled at Carly. "So it's nice to see you here."

"Nice to see you too. I'm just not sure if you picked the right day to come. So sorry you had to see this." Still burning with embarrassment, she held up the shoe.

"Oh, dear. You'd better go wash that off. But first..." He pulled out a flip phone. "Would you mind if I get your number?"

Carly picked up Alana's other shoe, and without thinking, she recited the digits. "I should probably get back to the kids; I'll talk to you later. Have a great day!"

As Carly passed her in the hall, Gladys shook her head. "Unbelievable!"

"Did we find out who did it?" Carly asked, about to enter the girls' bathroom.

"We sure did. Boys will just do anything for a dare, won't they?"

"Wow." Carly wasn't all that surprised. She'd seen the nasty things boys were capable of.

As she washed the shoe with soapy paper towels, it hit her--what Tommy really meant, asking for her phone number. The thought flattered her, but she found it hard to believe. He clearly didn't like her in high school. What changed?

And she realized the scary part. If they were going to spend time together, one-on-one, it would be her first time alone with a member of the male sex. Males intimidated her. And maybe Tommy was part of the reason why.

~~~

Tommy knew that asking for Carly's number was bold. He didn't know if he was bold enough to bring up what he did at Chartiers Valley and give her the apology she deserved. But clearly, he had to--she remembered him.

On his bus ride home from Bridgeville, he tried to recall what drove his past actions: the twisted logic of a hormonal high schooler, at the age where boys have grown out of innocence before they've outgrown their immaturity. Carly was nothing but quiet and sweet. It wasn't her fault she had the biggest chest, so oversized that she couldn't hide it if she tried. What did she do to make anyone want to hurt her? Why would anyone like to see her cry?

It wasn't as if Tommy ever hated her. What he hated was having to be around her. How dare she sit there, all small and cute with her huge heavy breasts, and give him a stirring in his pants he couldn't relieve. He knew she'd never let anyone see them, especially not someone as awkward and plain as him. So he and the other boys like him shared an unspoken agreement:

if I can't have Carly, nobody will

.

Their tactic was to act as if she was no good anyway. That way, they didn't have to worry about whether she'd like them, whether they'd look good around her, whether they could impress her. In their minds, she was turned into a disgusting character, just fun to laugh about.

"Guess who I got P.E. with? Carly!" one would say at the lunch table. "I heard she was doing stripper dances for the girls in the locker rooms."

"Eww," they'd say, offering more titillating tales they'd supposedly heard. They could say anything about her, as long as none of it had the pathetic, simpering sound of

wanting

her. Who would want a girl who'd done all those vile things?

Maybe for a while, Carly was unaware of her reputation. But the boys had enough of the sneaky storytelling. To show their commitment to the "I don't want her" act, they had to let her know what they thought. When Carly was seated next to Tommy on the first day of AP World History, he knew what to say.

"I wish they'd teach us more about the Vikings," said Carly, as if trying to make a new buddy. "I think they're really neat."

"You know something I wanna know?" said young Tommy. He knew a lunch table friend of his was sitting in earshot, and he couldn't risk sounding like he liked her. "What do you put in your bra to make you look that big?"

"Huh? I... I don't put anything in it."

"Liar." He glanced at his friend. "Whatever it is, you should take some out. It's way too much. It's disgusting!" He'd never admit how it stirred him to hear that she was truly that big.

Carly didn't respond. She just looked away, and for the rest of her time in that class, she didn't look at him again. At the times he caught a glimpse of her eyes, he noticed they were always a bit watery.

Months later, she stopped showing up to school. It would've been easy to joke that she'd gotten knocked up, or dropped out to be a stripper. But the real reason was obvious. To bring her up would bring back the shame:

What have we done?

Tommy wished he could go back in time and smack some sense into his young self and all his dumb friends. All he could do now, though, was make sure Carly was okay.

And thankfully, she seemed happier now, he told himself. The job with children seemed so right for her. God, did he need such a nurturing feminine presence in his life.

He got off at a bus stop in downtown Pittsburgh, caught a second bus east, and rode past familiar university buildings and grassy parks until he reached his neighborhood, a quietly gentrified area, mainly home to the city's graduate students and transplanted workers in tech. The views weren't as lush and green as his quaint little Pennsylvania hometown, but that was no place for single young men. Those old brick houses were built for families. If Carly was still out there, she was probably still living with hers.

After taking his building's elevator to the sixth floor, Tommy reached his apartment--a place all to himself. He liked the peace and quiet; he couldn't imagine what it would have been like to go to college and live with a roommate. With his earnings, he didn't need a degree anyway.

He threw off his jacket and shoes. He had a long project ahead of him, building the full new website for the youth center. This was on top of the two other ongoing assignments that promised to pay him handsomely. Right now, he didn't want to think of that. As he curled up under the deluxe comforter of his queen-sized bed, all he wanted to think of was Carly.

Carly.

She looked just as he remembered her, just as tiny with the same long white-blonde waves and the same bright brown-eyed, makeup-free pale face. And he knew she would've been in her right mind to get breast reduction surgery. What a pleasant surprise that she didn't.

She had to know what he was feeling. He texted her:

Hello beautiful :) This is Tommy

There was much more he could picture himself telling her.

Yes, my dear Carly. You are very beautiful to me. You always were.

He so badly hoped she'd believe it. But he set aside his phone and left it at that for now. Now was his "alone time," time to spend alone with thoughts he'd long been ashamed to think.

Carly, look what your beautiful body did to me. I'm getting hard.

He shuddered at how soothing his hand felt on his groin, all hot and swollen, and began to stroke himself to his imagined vision of Carly: fully undressed, relaxed on her back, giggling in bliss as he touched and tasted her everywhere.

Mmm. Sweet girl.

With Carly in this position, his fully firm cock wanted to dominate her. Tommy felt his fantasy self getting more aggressive.

You're mine, Carly! Only mine!

He had to claim his possession by entering that prized pussy, the place everyone dreamed of but would never get to go. He'd show her his strength as he pounded her and gripped her breasts, those huge fucking breasts, breasts jiggling as he pounded--

He came. "Oh, Carly," he sighed aloud.

The girl of his daydream had apparently texted him back:

Hi Tommy! How are you?

Doing great. Happy to hear from you again. Is it OK if I call to chat?

, he sent, still enjoying his warm afterglow.

And just like that, she called him. "Sure, we can call!"

"Lovely." His voice was soft and breathy. "And how are

you

?"

"I'm good, just got home from work."

"What's 'home' like for you? Do you live with family?"

"Yep! Mom, dad, big brother, little sister. And a black cat named Petunia."

"I do like cats. But me, I'm all alone in this apartment. It's a nice place in the city; maybe I could show you--"

"Oh, is that where we're gonna hang out?"

He didn't want her to get the wrong idea, but man, what an idea. "I mean, if you'd like. But first I wanted to take you to a steakhouse downtown, yeah? Let's get you a fine dinner and get to know each other."

"That sounds expensive."

"Darling! It's a date. You know I'm taking care of you."

"Aww, that's so kind of you."

"It's what you deserve." Along with a big sorry. And big hugs.

Once they settled on the schedule, Carly pointed something out: by the time they'd have finished their meal, arrived at his place, and spent another hour together, there'd be no more buses back to Bridgeville until the morning. Tommy said they could put the home visit off until next time. But Carly asked, "What if I spent the night there?"

"Uh, whoa." Tommy stretched his arm across the bed. There was plenty of room. "You could do that, totally."

If only the high school boys could see him now. He quit playing by their rules, and he won the game in the end.

~~~

"See you tomorrow!" Carly sang to her fellow staff, as she shut her locker and slung on her backpack. It was heavier today, packed this morning for this special night.

Her family would surely assume, when she didn't join them for dinner, that she had to work extra hours. If she told them where she was really going, that would raise too many questions. She didn't hang out with "friends," let alone in their bedrooms.

Well, one time, she did--a secret between her and Stella.

When Carly switched to a different school, nobody there spoke to her, or seemingly even noticed her. Carly was fine with this. Now school was finally just a place to learn, nothing else.

But one girl apparently couldn't stand to see her at lunch all alone with no food. She strolled up and sat. "Hi, Carly. Are you doing okay?" She had her cleavage on display and long-healed cuts on her arms. Carly couldn't fathom this attitude of having nothing to hide. "I don't know if you know me. I'm Stella, from third period."

Carly couldn't hold back anymore. She poured out everything to Stella--the reason she never talked, or smiled, or wanted to be seen. With what she'd been through, she didn't want to have her own body anymore.

"Your body is a gift," Stella told her. "Don't change it for anything."

Stella understood why Carly would often go days without eating: to starve off the fat on her chest. Carly had been doing it since she first found out about the teasing; she should've known it didn't work. Still, she couldn't bring herself to eat lunch without feeling oversized and gross.

"You're not fat, my love. Not one bit," Stella would whisper at Carly's side. "You need something to eat. Here. Come on, you can do it."

The words worked to calm Carly, but she learned her true love language was touch. Stella liked to say these things as her long painted nails ran through Carly's hair, down her back, up her thighs. Soon enough, Carly began to crave Stella's attention, the way it got her feeling warm and protected.

One day, Carly brought up that she'd never kissed a boy and was nervous about how awkward she'd be someday. She was curious about what her protective Mama Bear would do. If there was anyone Carly wanted to kiss, anyone who wouldn't judge her for nervous first-time slipups, it wasn't any of the boys around her. It was the girl who adored her more than anyone.

So Stella kissed her,

right there

, in the lunchroom. Carly felt the frustrated craving in Stella's lips. She didn't care who saw. They spent the rest of their high school days as hallway hand-holders and lunchroom kissers.

They kissed especially long, over and over, the day Stella got accepted to a prestigious out-of-state university. That was also the day, for the first time in a long time, that Carly broke down and cried.

That summer, Stella invited a handful of girls to the little going-away party at her house. When the party was over, Carly was the only one invited to Stella's bedroom.

"I want you to see me." Stella removed her dress, revealing stretch marks and more faded cuts on more parts than Carly had thought. Off came the push-up bra, revealing firm little handfuls, certainly not as massive as they appeared in the dress. Carly would've been glad to have that size; it seemed so backwards to try to make them look any bigger. And off came Stella's underwear, revealing all of Stella, bare, now motioning Carly for a hug.

Carly hugged her, thankful to feel so trusted.

Stella stroked the edge of Carly's dress. "There's something I've always wanted to do ever since I saw you. Please, please, let me do this. I want to show you how I love you." Her fingers dipped underneath the fabric, as if to say,

Show me what's underneath.

Carly had never thought about Stella touching her naked, but just like she'd been doing with Stella for years, she went along with it. She unbuttoned and unzipped her own dress and let Stella's soft hands slide it off. Carly's bust had grown past the point of fitting ordinary bras, so she'd stuffed herself into a stretchy sports top. Stella pulled it up over Carly's ribs, up her arms, onto the pile on the floor, and Carly sighed, finally able to breathe freely.

"Your boobs are amazing." Stella rubbed the reddened marks from where the seams dug in Carly's skin. She laid Carly on the bed. "Poor baby, you must be so sore." After a moment of massaging Carly's shoulders and squishing her chest, Stella took a nipple in her lips.

The rough sucking felt strange to Carly:

Am I your mommy? Are you trying to milk me?

When Stella kept moaning and pausing to curse, Carly noticed Stella had been jiggling her fingers between her own legs. She couldn't understand what got Stella so excited, but the passionate sucks sure made her feel special.

Then, she realized--this was what Stella really wanted. She'd been caring for Carly because of the breasts. This whole time, she wanted Carly to keep her own breasts because she wanted to enjoy them for herself. No matter whether it was the Chartiers Valley boys being cruel to her, or Stella being kind to her, people only ever saw Carly for her breasts, didn't they?

Stella popped off the wet nipple; the finger-jiggling got rapid, and then, with a prolonged moan, she stopped. "Now I want to make you come. You don't have to do anything; just lie back and feel good like you deserve. You want that? Want me to eat your pussy?"

Carly lay limp like a doll. This was getting weird. "I'm sorry. This is too much for me."

"What?" Stella froze. She backed off. "Okay, then. That's fine."

They got dressed in silence and headed for the door. Carly waited there. She wasn't ready to leave yet.

Stella clutched Carly's hands. "Can I kiss you?"

"Of course you can."

They kissed in a crushing tight embrace. Soon, Stella would be in college, and Carly would still be working at the local youth center. "Farewell," Stella whispered. "I'll miss you forever."