[This story got its inspiration, but not its theme or plot, from a very old movie with very haunting theme music, "A Summer Place"; that starred, among others, Sandra Dee and Troy Donahue as young lovers. While the world of the movie, and the novel it was based on, are, like Tara, "Gone With the Wind", the intensity of first love never changes, and the portrayal in this movie is one of the better characterisations; or at least I think so. – PS]
[All characters in this story who are involved in serious sexual situations are at least 18 years old - PS]
* * *
Christopher looked around the classroom, temporarily ignoring his history teacher. She was droning on about the causes of the First World War. He was going to have to write an essay on one of them very soon, but that wasn't really worrying him, after all, history was his best subject, and he already had his university admission organized. All he needed was to maintain an average above 70 to keep it from being revoked.
No, the problem was sitting two rows over and slightly ahead of him ... and it had a name, Eleanor. The problem had beautiful long auburn hair, done this day in a flowing pony tail; grey eyes, clear glowing skin, and a tantalizing shape, one that curved in all the right places. The problem also had a way of dressing that made male hormones jump into overdrive!
Since Christopher had recently split up with his girlfriend Carol, he was free to chase the problem. Unfortunately the problem was quite elusive; three times he had asked her out; and three times she was: "Busy." The third rejection was given in a way that didn't exactly leave the door open for a fourth attempt!
The break up with Carol, he had to admit to himself, was all about ego ... his ego. He had to face facts; she was three years younger than him, and he was basically in it for purely physical reasons. He had never seriously kissed a girl before he dated Carol, and really didn't know what to do. She was able to help him overcome this difficulty, despite her tender age, and certainly taught him plenty during a number of heavy "necking" sessions. But one night, when he tried to take things farther by touching her breasts through her blouse, she had immediately stopped him, saying: "You know I'm only fifteen."
That crushing rebuke pointed out the folly of their "relationship" ... if you could even call it that. He was eighteen and needed a girlfriend that was more his own age. Besides, you couldn't take a fifteen year-old to the senior prom ... c'mon ... how pathetic could a guy look?
"Apparently pretty bad," he answered himself ruefully, because if he couldn't get Eleanor to go with him, and that was looking increasingly hopeless, he was then facing the further humiliation of attending the prom stag; or with one of the less attractive girls. Perhaps even taking a Grade 10 girl would have been better than that!
There was still time, but only six weeks, and he knew which girls did not yet have escorts. He had this information from his close friend Peter, who was very firmly plugged in to all the romantic events affecting the senior class via his girlfriend Catherine. Eleanor was about the only unattached female left who met his self-imposed criteria for female adolescent beauty. To go with any of the others would be "slumming", although, he thought to himself grimly, it might just come down to something really depressing, like Kathy or Phoebe, both of whom had, at various points in time, signalled their interest in him.
Of course the realistic side of his personality made him admit to himself that he wasn't exactly the hottest member of the male species in Grade 12, despite his lofty standards for feminine company. He was just totally, totally average, in height, weight, looks, and athletic ability. About the only place where he stood out was in the intellect department. He wasn't the smartest senior by a long shot, but he was fairly well up the chart, and had the grades to prove it!
"Do you really think you're good looking enough, or cool enough, for a girl like Eleanor?" he asked himself sarcastically, "Get real, she's probably 'Mission Impossible' for a guy like you."
As he morosely considered his rapidly vanishing prom date prospects, his thoughts returned to Kathy, in particular, as an option. He suspected that she had a crush on him; because he had caught her surreptitiously staring wistfully at him on a few occasions. Kathy had flame red hair, an almost unmanageable mane of it, along with a zillion freckles, brown eyes and a pointy nose. And for good measure, no discernible figure! But she did dress nicely, and was one of the smarter members of his class. Phoebe was a bit better looking than Kathy, and actually had breasts, but wore totally weird clothes, and had a very annoying way of laughing at things that were not really even funny.
Maybe he should ask Kathy out on a date, he decided; that way if he had to settle for her for the prom, it wouldn't look to her like she was a desperation choice.
"Like she is," he thought to himself grimly.
"Why, oh why, oh why did I tell Peter about Eleanor?" he thought bitterly. He could only imagine how amused his friend would be once the news broke that Kathy was going to be his date, "Maybe this will teach you once and for all to stop shooting your big mouth off," he added inwardly, with a shake of his head, "talk about a loser!"
There was perhaps only one upside in this scene of unmitigated disaster. It was possible, given Kathy's apparent attraction to him, that if he took her on a few dates prior to the prom, she might let him get past first base at the end the evening. After all, she was also eighteen, and even if she had never had a boyfriend before, she might want to have sex with him if she liked him a lot. And anyway, it was the senior prom, and it was sorta traditional for kids to lose their virginity that night.
But just as he was considering his chances of seducing Kathy, and unabashedly trying to imagine what her pussy might look like, another memory involving her crept into his mind, leaving him feeling a little ashamed of himself.
"You don't fuck the face," one of his friends, Mike, had crudely suggested one time, while they were sizing up some of the less attractive girls in the cafeteria, including Kathy!
Mike, a self-professed expert on the opposite sex, maintained that ugly girls were good bets for action, especially if you, as a guy, were someone who wouldn't normally be boyfriend material for them.
"They'll usually come across pretty quick," he had said with a smirk, "just to make sure you keep taking them out; and so they can show you off to their girlfriends, who are usually members of the ugly club as well. Only problem is that sometimes they fall in love with you ... and then it's really tough to get rid of them."
Christopher didn't share Mike's rather cynical view of young women, or his opportunistic strategies for sexually exploiting them. He reminded himself that even a "Plain Jane" type of girl like Kathy would probably have some standards, and might not throw herself at him just because she liked him, and he had taken her to the prom. If he was going to go to the prom with Kathy, he'd better make sure he behaved just like he would with an Eleanor; it wasn't Kathy's fault that his love life was a fiasco!
* * *
Later that morning, he was heading downstairs to the cafeteria for lunch when he spotted Kathy at her locker chatting with a few of her girlfriends, all of whom Christopher knew. He boldly strolled right up to them and joined their conversation, which he could tell from the suspicious glances surprised them. After a few minutes discussing the history essay, and who was going to the basketball game after school, and so on, he politely excused himself to go get his lunch.
For once, the gods were smiling on him, because right afterwards, as he walked back to his locker, he noticed that Kathy was again at hers, retrieving her books for the afternoon classes, alone.
"Now or never," he thought to himself.
"Hi Kathy," he ventured, which earned him a shy smile.
"Hi Christopher," she answered; a little nervously it seemed to him.
"I'm glad I caught up with you ... I was wondering ... well ... I was wondering if you were doing anything Friday night. Maybe we could go to a movie or something."
"Oh Christopher, I'm very sorry, but I have a date with Matt ... he's taking me to the prom."
"Oh ... ah ... sorry," Christopher stammered, trying to regain his composure after this disastrous disclosure, "I didn't know you and Matt were an item."
