WARNING: English is NOT my first language - I have learned it in school and practiced it a lot in trading, but this is (even though pornographic) supposed to be literature.
So please bear with me, or, if not, just read something else.
I also need to mention that the story is true, depicting my personal memory.
All the names and/or places may have been changed, due to privacy reasons.
*****
I'm eighteen, going home from the high school, dressed in the uniform - dark blue coat and trousers, white shirt and tie, carrying a briefcase...
My looks and the fact that my uniform is not made of the "classical" fabric, plus the quite expensive Samsonite briefcase, do not let people guess that I'm only a high school eighteen years old guy...
I really cannot tell what happens to me, since, all of a sudden, I decide to deviate my journey towards the grocery market, which so happens to be, somewhat, close to my way home.
Honestly, I'm amazed of myself, since, normally, even if my parents would have asked me, I wouldn't have gone there...
Furthermore, being a guy, I cannot be pregnant, but, still, I feel the urge to have some pickles, near a portion of five poached eggs...
This involves that, if she sees me, I shall also have to face my mother's concern, since she's always jumping, desperate, when she sees me eating more than three eggs:
"Come on, child! Why don't you want to listen to reason and to what the doctors say?!?"
"But, mother, I won't be eating eggs until the next week! Satisfied?"
"This is you! Stubborn and your own body's enemy!"...
When we have this kind of conversations, I always remind her of the doctor who used to eat twenty poached eggs, all by himself, and who has lived until almost eighty...
Then, she has a problem, since she was the one who has told me this, some loooong time ago...
"That man was an exception, not the rule!"...
Anyway, usually, the conversation ends with my mother rushing towards the medicine cabinet, and bringing two pills of Essentiale and leaving them beside my plate:
"Make sure you take these"...
So, reaching the grocery market, I go towards the area where I know, from my mother, that the sellers are real peasants, not some merchants, buying the cheapest possible stuff, to make a better profit...
In fact, you can easily make the difference, since, when you look at the merchandise exposed by the merchants, they simply let you look, explaining that their merchandise is being the best that money can buy, while the real peasants are much less talkative, but, instead, they invite you to try it, at no charge...
Wearing a suit and a tie, plus a briefcase there, at the market, isn't the smartest thing to do...
Looking towards you like vultures, all the merchants start inviting you to come and buy their merchandise, insisting to find out what you are interested in, offering you various vegetables and fruits, and, finally, when they see that your steps are leading you towards the area of the real producers, the peasants, they start making comments, like that you are "cheap", that "you don't know what's good for you", that "you don't know that those peasants don't even wash their merchandise, when preparing it", and other sweet things that I cannot even bother to remember...
While I'm stoically receiving the "treat", reaching the targeted area, I can see two girls giggling, laughing, whispering at each other, and insistingly looking at me.
They are dressed in their high school uniforms, so that I can easily guess that we are the same age, with the difference that their uniforms show it...
One of them has something in her looks, provoking, I may say...
What the heck?!? I smile at them, then start looking for my pickles.
When I find the ones of the right dimensions, not longer than ten centimeters and not thicker than three, as my parents have taught me, ever since I have concluded that I looooove pickles, I ask if I can taste.
The old man offers me one in the peak of a fork, but I just grab it with my hand, and put it all in my mouth - not very elegant gestures - then start chewing it, with my lips sealed, not to waste any juice on my chin...
I probably have a funny face and attitude, since the two young sluts start laughing again...
I stop chewing, turn towards them, look them in the eye, then make a step towards them, as if I intend to run after them, and start chewing very fast and exaggerated, then just turn back in front of the old man, smiling, with my lips fully sealed, yet, but nodding...
I can clearly see the light of joy in the old man's eyes. He asks me:
"How much? A kilo?"...
Honestly, I was thinking to buy only a half of a kilo, but, looking at the deformed hands of the old man, thinking about how much he has been working all his life, enduring deprivations and stuff, I just nod.
The old man weighs my merchandise, tells me the price, I hand him a bank note, he gives me the change, meaning some bank notes and a few coins...
I take the bank notes, but leave the coins in his palm...
He takes a look towards the two chicks, then at me, and simply tells me:
"You are very young, sir, I can see...
Don't pay attention to those two! They may be wearing school uniforms, but they are whores...
I know it for a fact!"
I don't know why, but I'm not surprised, so that I just look in the old man's eyes, wink at him, then thank him for both, merchandise and info...
It seems that while I was awaiting for my merchandise to be weighed and to pay for it, the two chicks have probably finished shopping, so that now they are gone...
I forget the whole thing and get going home.
To my surprise, right in front of me, at less than thirty meters, there they are, undulating their tails - to be read asses - while they are walking in the same direction.
I continue walking, being decided to keep my distance - finally, whores or no whores, they are just two young girls, good looking, even in their uniforms, and... I simply cannot afford to start kicking girls asses...
What the heck? Let them be!
I'm sure that one of them has already observed that I am somewhat following them, and, from their gestures, I realize that they are making some comments, giggling, laughing...
At the first corner of the street, I'm supposed to go to the left, but, to my surprise, they turn towards the same direction.
When I reach the corner of the street, I can see them again, this time much, much closer, only about ten meters, speaking to a guy.
Shit! It's Jim!
Jim and I are neighbors, kind of, and we know each other ever since we were using the same swings in the park...
He's only one year younger than me, and, so it seems, he is always happy to see me, say hi, and just some small talk.
What can I do? I keep on walking!
Suddenly, Jim sees me, and, of course, salutes me, coming to me to shake hands.
I excuse myself cause we cannot shake hands, since one of my hands is carrying the briefcase, while the other is carrying the plastic bag with the pickles, at which, after weighing them, the old man has added some salted juice, to make sure that the pickles will stay juicy...
I'm very attentive with the plastic bag, since it's somewhat wet, and I don't want to ruin my trousers...
The girls are... Mirabella and Andrada, and they are studying at the same high school as Jim.
They are simply stunned, bewildered, overwhelmed.
They just stand there, on the sidewalk, like two geese, with their mouths literally opened...
I smile at all the three of them, than excuse myself, since I need to reach at home in a hurry, with the pickles.
This time I'm the one who has all the fun, remembering their faces when Jim has briefly introduced me as a neighbor and a friend, and being only one year older than him...
I enter the apartment, finding, of course, my mother in the kitchen, kiss her on her cheeks, telling her to stop smiling, since shortly afterwards she'll get mad at me...
"You know, the problem of the five eggs, instead of only three"...
This time, she simply refuses to make a fuss of it, but goes and brings the pills of Essentiale, plus my father, who has been informed about the pickles, so that he wants to taste them...
His "tasting" means around a quarter of a kilo, just as it also happens in my case...
I simply congratulate myself, in my mind, for not buying only a half of a kilo...
He congratulates me for my initiative, then, since he has to make a phone call, leaves the kitchen, while my mother is making sure that I have everything I need to prepare the eggs.
It's been years, by now, since I pretend to prepare the eggs all by myself, with nobody else's help...
At about half past six in the afternoon, I hear the door bell ringing, but, since I'm not expecting anybody, I sit, letting my parents deal with the matter.
Suddenly, I hear a knock at my rooms door - it's my mother, informing me that Jim is at the door, expecting me...
Obviously surprised, I go to the door.
This time I shake hands with Jim, but I don't invite him in, since, as I've mentioned, we aren't that close.
In very few words, he informs me that the girls are sorry, for real, for their behavior at the grocery market, and that they would like to apologize and get to know me better, inviting me at the nearby cafeteria - a place where, in spite of the communist regime, you can have a chocolate ice cream tasting even better than the one that you can get in Paris...
Their treat!
"Come on, man! You won't regret it!"
Remembering the old man's advice, plus my mood, since I don't really feel like going out, I try to find a solution to avoid all this...
"Jim, after all, they haven't really done, I don't know what fuss - and furthermore, they might have had fun, but it was only their fun, since, as I've clearly noticed, the rest of the people who have witnessed the whole thing, from their attitudes and faces, haven't had fun at all"...
Jim is literally desperate:
"Man! They are two chicks! We are two guys! I know for a fact that they are not nuns! Why waste such an opportunity?!?"
Then, hoping to be more convincing:
"I can tell you from the beginning - Mirabella has set her eyes on you! She's a one night stand available a hundred percent! And, who knows? You can even get some more!"
Honestly, I'm not impressed, and Jim senses it.
He adopts another strategy:
"Look, if you accept, and come with me, I may get the chance to reach into Andrada's pants.
If you refuse, I'm fucked!"...
"Well, man, if that is the case, I cannot leave you alone, like this, but... I want to make sure that you don't give them my address, and if, due to who knows what reason, I decide to leave, you don't start insisting that I should stay"...
