Julie sat in the warm sunshine, on one of the posts holding the guard rail at the end of the long, narrow cul-de-sac at the edge of the small state nature preserve. It was exactly noon - she was nothing if not punctual.
An occasional grasshopper whirred past, but nothing else moved or made noise. It was amazingly devoid of human influences or presence, this little piece of countryside next to the river, at the edge of town. She had grown up here, knew the entire town intimately, from riverbank through its highest hills. For years she had had what she called her "private river-place", just a short distance away, down a faint and well-hidden trail that ambled over the steep bluff and down to the riverbank itself. It was a secret, but one which she was about to reveal for the first time.
Her family was seriously over-protective, hyper-conservative, evangelical/religious... but at least, they did value education in some forms. Over the last year or so, she had quietly examined her own religious upbringing and, without fanfare or open rebellion, had declared it nonsense - rejected it completely. In fact, she had finally decided pretty much to hell with her parents' opinions, feelings or influence. She now felt immune to further religious propagandizing. And she wanted OUT.
College offered her an obvious escape route from the family environment, but that required a bit of planning - plus silence about those plans, plus seeming to still be hewing to her upbringing. Subterfuge. The plans were simple - she would start college locally (at a "faith-based" school, whatever that meant - it would help keep Mom and Dad under control). She was a very good student: she would concentrate and do well in her studies, taking 100% secular classes. Then, ASAP, she would use her academic record to escape to a real university somewhere far away.
The plan was already in gear: at high-school graduation time some weeks ago, she had both turned eighteen and (per the plan) pre-enrolled as a second-semester freshman, which she could do because of her many advanced-placement courses.
Due to the family's conservatism and religiosity, she of course had no dating experience, essentially having been kept ignorant of the entire process... ignorant, but anxious to begin. In fact, she had just recently decided it was time to take some sort of serious action on the 'dating/males' front... although she was not t all sure what that meant!
It would obviously help a lot, she thought, when fall arrived and she would move into the dorm, finally free of minute-by-minute supervision by her folks. Getting the parental permission to move into the dorm (more of the plan!) had taken months of wrangling and cajoling - but she expected it to prove a worthwhile investment of effort.
That decision about male/female interactions (really, about LACK of them!) was why she was sitting here on the post, with her heart going unexpectedly, and unsettlingly, fast. She swung her legs nervously as she watched the brow of the hill over which he should be arriving momentarily. Antsy now, she wondered, why she had set up this meeting? She didn't have a very clear answer as to what she expected from this event. And, importantly, was this a DATE? She had after all asked HIM out, to come with her to her secret place. Could it be a real date if the girl asked the man instead of the other way round?
Perhaps he wouldn't come, after all? Maybe he hadn't really taken her as seriously as it all seemed yesterday?
She studied her feet in their white canvas shoes. Back and forth. Making designs in the dust with her toes. Dust on the canvas. "Puppy feet!" she thought to herself. Her Mother's term, internalized. God, how she hated her body nowadays... big, huge, ungainly puppy-feet. Ick. Maybe she should get some other color of shoes? One magazine article said that black "minimized size" whatever that meant.
This meeting today was a VERY strange arrangement, really! It had all begun the day before - Friday. At her afternoon soccer practice. The women's team included players with a considerable range in age and size and experience - in all of which she was right at the very minimum. She was fast and strong, but outweighed and out-muscled by many of her teammates.
Coach was good about balancing participation, however, so she got plenty of action. Every player on the team did: he was very fair. As to actual game-time, well, this summertime daily practice and working out was just prep work - no real intercollegiate games until well into the looming fall semester. They'd just have to see how things went during matches once the season started.
Meanwhile, at the moment, she watched from the sidelines with a lot of the other players. Several of the older, more experienced ones nearby were making comments about Jimmy, the coach - they agreed that he was a VERY interesting man, just old enough to be seriously out of their reach, and just young enough to be extraordinarily attractive to them. And able to keep up with the batch of them on the field - actually, he could and sometimes did run them ragged without seeming to get winded himself.
Practice ended, and the rest of the women bounced and giggled their way off the field towards the dressing room, a site off-limits for Jimmy - it was sometimes inconvenient, this having a male coach for the women's team, but he was a fine coach with a great record... and he handled the potentially-awkward arrangement well, frequently poking fun at himself and the overall situation.
Julie hadn't felt social, and stayed behind, sitting in the bottom row of seats in the bleachers, while the gaggle cleared. She watched the others flow past, envious of those with real breasts. Boobs that stood out beneath the jerseys, that wobbled and jiggled and capture male attention. Breasts - or the lack thereof - preoccupied her. Jealousy. Embarrassment. Longing. Sometimes she wondered if her own tit-preoccupation wasn't something akin to that of teenage boys? A weird thought, that.
HOWEVER, she reminded herself often, she had finally, just a couple of months ago, gotten her turn at the explosive growth and development that had long since overtaken most of her girlfriends. Not all, but most. Her puberty, like her Mother's, had been unconscionably delayed (probably by some interfering minor Hindu deity, she liked to think). She had known, of course, that her turn would arrive in its own good time, bringing tits and hips and suchlike - Mother hadn't needed a 'training bra' until she'd reached twenty-one, and today Mom sported lovely small boobs... attractive even after nursing three kids. So at least she and Mother could commiserate a little on THAT topic. But Mom wasn't here at the moment to console her. Thank heavens for THAT!
The parade began to slow - it seemed specifically designed to make her miserable. Tits! Boobs! Yeah, and hips and butts and boyfriends. She was, frankly, miserably unhappy with her own body. Hence watching the flow of 'bodies on display' didn't help one little bit.
Especially she disliked her body now that it had begun to betray her all of a sudden - just as she'd gotten some real control over it through gymnastics and soccer and running, BLOOEY, she had gained nearly five inches in well under a year. Now she was achingly aware of having those awful puppy-feet, a term Mother had accidentally dropped into a conversation and which had stuck in Julie's mind.
It epitomized what was happening to her. Big feet, yes, but there were no accompanying developments of the kind she was so anxious for. She knew they would happen eventually, but nevertheless the long delay was so DAMNED UNFAIR! She sat there, gently simmering in her own private foul mood.
Then, suddenly, Jimmy had appeared in front of her, sweaty, carrying the big net bag of soccer balls. He squatted down, looked at her eye-to-eye:
"You had a good day, today, Julie! On the field at least. Why so glum!?"
She looked at him, then looked away, suddenly embarrassed. It was one thing to be coached on-field by this attractive man, but something completely different being up this close and personal. He waited - he was always patient.
Finally, somehow, she blurted out "I'm just..." She paused, looked at him, finished in a rush that surprised her. "I'm so ugly compared to all the others! Nobody thinks I'm pretty. It shouldn't matter, but it does! I hate the way I look! I'm just some sort of human string-bean. And it's just getting worse!"
She turned her face away, embarrassed at herself. Not just embarrassed, more like appalled! What in the world was going on in her head? She sounded just like a whiney, bratty little six-year-old trying hard for attention. God DAMMIT! - how could her brain let such a thing get out?
Jimmy reached one hand out, cupped her chin in his fingertips. He'd never touched her before, not at all, not for any reason. As a man coaching a flock of attractive, and obviously horny, young women, many of them underage, he had to be particularly careful about such stuff - in fact, he had even led occasional discussions about it. His first such talk, during introductions on day one, had impressed all the players- some of the older ones had tee-heed (later) and said how very much "too bad" the 'no-touch-ever' rule was.
Julie had surprised herself - at his touch her belly had twisted a little, and she could feel her pulse pick up. The touch was delicate, considerate, and unexpectedly sensual. His fingertips held her as if she were some sort of precious, fragile object. On the underside of her jaw she could feel the heat of his palm.
He gently turned her face towards his, and said "Baloney! You, Julie, are a very pretty young woman, and right now you are maturing into an even prettier version. Remember, I met your older sisters and your mother at the social mixer, and it's obvious that you are going to be a VERY attractive woman. Period. Believe me, I do know what I'm talking about. I really do LIKE the females of my species. A lot!"
He grinned broadly at her, warmly, and kept on: "About your looks, madam, my opinion counts, and yours doesn't, because no woman can ever be objective about herself! It's a law of nature."
He paused, grinned again and said "Same as boys being perpetually horny! That's another of Mother Nature's laws. There are, by the way, a lot of young men hereabouts who DO notice you and who clearly do NOT find anything negative about your physique. Being male myself, I can see those boys' behavior - but you probably cannot. All is actually in good order in the universe. Quit worrying! Orders from your coach. Okay?"
She smiled at that. He said "That's better!" He released her chin, squeezed her bare, sweaty shoulder just once. It sent tingles through her, and that embarrassed her again. She wasn't doing too well, was she?
