A series of stories about the pleasures of youth and the fun had during those glory years....
Story Three -- Satisfaction
Most jocks would never be caught dead in the library.
However, anyone who knew me knew I was about as far from being a typical jock as you could be. I lettered in three sports, and played others, but I was comfortable hanging with folks outside my usual clique, which was refreshing in itself. Sometimes I actually found the library to be a refuge from the rush of school life. And, being a history buff, most of my buddies knew that they could usually find me hidden away in the stacks on those days that there was no practice.
I'm not embarrassed to admit it either. I can be a bit of a geek.
Now on that particular Thursday though, I wasn't there for pleasure reading. I did have a paper due the following Monday. And we'd had football practice every afternoon that week. So I had put off the paper knowing full well that it would consume all my free time this upcoming weekend.
The back stacks were littered with stepstools that shorter students could use to reach the upper shelves. Due to my tendency to get engrossed in my reading material once I pull it off the shelf, I usually parked my ass on one of the available stools and looked over the book before I took it back to my table or checked it out. The stools are only about a foot and a half off the floor, so when I sit on them it tends to mask my six feet, three inches of height so that people wandering around usually can't see me through the gaps in the shelves.
As usual what had been meant as a quick glance had turned into a much longer read. I hadn't realized until I heard the hushed voices that I'd become engrossed in a book about the French Revolution and had lost all track of track of time.
There were two people talking on the other side of the shelves. Because I was sitting on a stool, it allowed me to overhear their conversation in the next aisle over.
I could just see from my perspective how the curve of their jeans wrapped over their firm round backsides. And from the shape of each ass I knew that they were of the feminine persuasion. Obviously their backs were to me as they examined the books on the shelf. Realizing my advantage in the situation, I leaned forward to get a better look, all the while trying not to make too much noise.
"Fuck!" said the first girl in exasperation, taking me by surprise, "Where the hell is this stupid book? I need it for class."
"Well I think it's supposed to be right here," said the other girl calmly, "I don't know why they have to use the Dewey Decimal System anyway. You'd think there was an easier way. Some stupid fuck probably just put it in the wrong place."
"You don't understand," the other girl continued sounding frantic in a voice tinged with hysteria, "I need that book for Kaufman's class or I'm completely fucked."
"Look, Ali," replied the other girl, trying to sound rational, "It's going to be okay. What the hell is going on? Are you on the rag or something? You've been a total bitch all day."
Duh, I thought to myself stupidly. Of course that's why they sounded so familiar. That was Ali. As in Ali the homecoming queen. Ali the quarterback's girlfriend. The quarterback being Todd. The man who was co-captain of the football team. And a teammate of mine. That Todd. Right. Got it.
I noticed Ali paused before responding.
"It's Todd," she said matter-of-factly, as if that answered everything.
"Shithead Todd?" said the other girl, who could only be Nicole, Ali's best friend in the world and Mike Anderson's girlfriend. Nicole and Ali had been inseparable as long as I knew them.
"What's he done now?" Nicole asked concerned.
"God," Ali said, sounding fraught and irritated, "I feel so stupid."
"Tell me about it?" prompted Nicole soothingly.
I had inched close enough so that I could kinda see their faces through the shelf if I looked up. Ali looked about ready to cry, and she had raised her hand to her face, pushing back the strands of her incredibly long chestnut hair out of her eyes.
"Last night," she started hesitatingly and softly, "You know...I thought I'd surprise him."
I could see Nicole give a nod of encouragement.
Ali continued as she said, "My parents are in Tampa, at that conference right? So I figured we could get together at my place. I figured it'd be nothing to get lucky!"
"What'd he do?"
A tone of irritation sounded in Nicole's voice as if she'd heard these charges read before.
"Nothing!" said Ali loudly and with anger, "That's the whole fucking point! Jesus, I was practically fucking naked! Begging him to screw me! And he just sat there like I was a fucking cow or something."
"He's a stupid fuck," Nicole told her sympathetically.
"The game was on, right?" Ali went on, "But like nothing I could do would get him to fuck me. I blew him during halftime, but he just left afterwards."
She had clearly started to cry and Nicole wrapped her arms comfortingly around her friend.
"Am I so fucking vile?" Ali asked her pulling away and wiping her eyes, "I mean the sight of me in a bra and panties isn't enough to get him hard?"
Well I knew it would have gotten me hard. This conversation was a real eye opener. I can't imagine what Todd had been thinking.
"Maybe he's queer?" asked Nicole, but even she sounded unconvinced.
"No way!" said Ali, "He's fucked me before! But lately, he's just not interested. I'm getting desperate. His dick was so good. So thick! Not like Ben at all."
Okay, I thought to myself, enough is enough. This conversation was taking me to a weird place. I knew both Todd and Ben. It was one thing to be one of the guys talking about doing the girls in the locker room, but this was an insider's perspective that I'd never heard before. I wasn't so stupid that I hadn't realized girls must talk about guy's equipment and performance and all, but I'd just never heard it first hand. Despite my curiosity, I decided I did not want to get trapped there listening to this conversation all of study period.
I got up off my stool and both of the girls instantly realized they weren't alone as they heard the scrap of the stool against the floor and the heavy tread of my footfalls as I walked around the shelf to their location.
"Who's there?" asked Nicole, impatiently, just before I rounded into their row.
"Oh, it's you Marc!" she said, catching sight of me, "Didn't expect to see you here. Eavesdropping."
She added the last bit with a pointed edge and her look would have killed me stone dead if it'd been a weapon.