Picture a man walking into a restaurant, fast-food, we'll say. He is young, perhaps in his mid-twenties, but well-dressed, appearing to be just leaving work. Ahead of him in line are four young girls. Are they really girls? He sees the shapes and curves of their bodies in an instant appraisal born of years of practice. Girls do not have such lustful shapes. But are they really women? Their laughs are secretive and yet they laugh often as if they are sharing some private joke. The people around them are visibly annoyed by the time that they take in deciding on an order. The man guesses them to be high school aged, perhaps first year college girls, but not likely.
One in particular catches his eye above the others. She is the tall one. Her hair is naturally blonde and long and she has it pulled back in a high, comfortable, sporty pony tail. He looks at her in her baggy t-shirt and loose, gray unhemmed pants, the fabric coming down around her unshod toes. She looks to be the oldest but he wonders if she is simply more mature than her friends.
He watches her standing in line. She is somewhat more reserved from her friends' laughter and prodding. He watches her slender arms bend as her hands lift her t-shirt, flipping it above her wrists as she hooks her thumbs under the waist of her pants to pull them up. He sees a thin line of soft, bare flesh disappearing into the waistline of an exposed pair of white silk panties that shine above the baggy pants. The waistline barely covers the swell of her hips and the man's breath shortens at the sight. She drops her shirt back over her body and smoothes it down. He looks up and finds her staring into his eyes. There is no expression there, not even a question. Her face is blank. He looks away.
Within moments, she is ignoring him again. He turns his head and once again drops his eyes to her body, staring at her shape and focusing on the suggested line of panties as they dip underneath her ass and disappear between her thighs. He finds himself hungering for her suddenly, her innocent sexuality burning in his loins. He wants her desperately, as if he is addicted. As he stares, his eyes again see her hands lifting her shirt and he follows them up as she curls the shirt over her wrists, displaying naked flesh to his eyes again. Her palms turn so that they are flat against her side and she slips her fingers down again, this time into the waistband of her panties. He watches her fingers plunge deep down her hips and then slowly slip around behind until she is caressing the flesh of her ass.
He can see her fingers caressing her body through the material of her gray pants. The hands lift slowly until her fingers are at the small of her back. She pulls her shirt higher and arches her back, giving him a more revealing look at her naked skin. His eyes rise to meet hers, staring again. There is no smile, no knowing glance that suggests she is aware of the game she is playing, just a blank stare. He gazes into her green eyes for an endless moment until the clerk calls for her order.
The man watches them eating, laughing and innocent in their careless world. His mind keeps replaying the scene in his head and his body burns. He becomes a machine, his body in motion and he finds himself approaching the table. Four sets of eyes meet his as he places his hands on the table's edge. He focuses on one set, the same eyes that had already held his intense gaze, challenging him, and he asks, simply, "Is it just a game?"
The girls are not silent long. He parries questions about his age and what he wants from those he isn't concerned with. He doesn't say anything else. The tall, blonde beauty, the object of his desire simply stares, as silent as her aggressor. He offers a hand to her and she waits, her face an emotionless mask. He is briefly aware of the other girls telling him to leave her alone, that he is too old, and they are pleading her not to go. He withstands their insults and finally, she smiles, simple, pure, beautiful. She stands and takes his hand. As he turns away, he hears her telling her friends, "Don't expect me. I'll see you at school tomorrow."
They barely speak, there is no need. Messages are conveyed with touches and brief glances. The car ride is quiet, yet there is an air of excited expectation. The walk to his door is silent.
Inside, she parades about the house as a new pet would explore it's surroundings. Her hands run over the plush furnishings and her eyes scan the walls and their decorations. He watches her walk about the open house, her walk graceful and confident even to be so innocently smooth.
As she circles the living room's furniture a third time, her arms bend in the familiar motion again and he watches her hook her shirt again into her wrists. But then in one fluid motion, she pulls it above her shoulders and over her head. Her naked breasts bounce ever so slightly as they hang on the hem of her shirt and then fall free. In an almost eerie sense of timelessness, he captures the vision of her breasts, lifted by her arms, her flesh sloping gently downward and then sweeping into her upturned nipples, pointing tiny but firmly into the empty air. He sees her blonde hair lifted by the neck of the shirt pulling itself over her head, then he watches her hair cascading back down to its pattern behind her small head.
She doesn't look at him as she continues her walk, dropping the shirt carelessly onto the back of the couch as she floats around the furniture. He stares at her naked body, feeling his own react. Her breasts are small yet firm and set high and proud on her chest. His eyes drop to her ass as she turns away. Her pants have sagged lower still as she walks. His eyes are drawn to her white panties, the nakedness of her lower back against the sharp white strip. The band of cotton over her flesh displays the womanly shape of her hips below her panties before they disappear into the waistline of her pants. Her hands are at the waistband again, only this time pushing down. The loose pants hang briefly on her hips and then are past, dropping silently. Her arms hang limp and she steps out of the pants, leaving them crumpled on the floor. Her panties have partially drawn up into the enticing slit of her ass and he stares hungrily, aroused by her disarray.
