On the list of girls I made that I was determined to fuck, I thought that the sixth one might turn out to be the hardest. I didn't know anything of her whereabouts over the last five-ish years. The others were women in my life; easy to locate. I didn't even know what state Elizabeth, who went by Lexi, lived in. It was almost reason enough to leave her off my list of girls. I had to try, though. I still thought about her a lot-- the first girl I ever had a crush on.
In my graduating class, Amy was "the" girl; the beautiful head cheerleader, the most popular girl in school, and the one that all of the boys want to fuck. A few years before, that role was Lexi's.
She wasn't a cheerleader like Amy. Lexi was popular and smart; her class valedictorian, and somebody that had big plans for life.
She was a senior when I was in seventh grade, and she was the first girl that I ever looked at and was simply awestruck by. At that age, she seemed like a mature older woman, and every time she looked at me it was like I was hit by lightning.
Of course, she thought I was a nobody. Everybody did. She started a few conversations with me back then, probably out of pity, but I would look into her gigantic blue eyes and get nervous. Then I would divert my eyes, they would wind up drawn to her large chest, and I would lose the ability to even form syllables.
She was beautiful. I mean, like a model—or maybe more like an angel. She had blonde hair that was so light it was almost white and had light freckles sprinkled across her face.
When I put Lexi on my list, I didn't feel the same sort of bitterness that I did at first with Amy. With some of these girls I was almost getting revenge by hooking up with them. With Lexi, maybe because I hadn't seen her in so long, it felt more like making up for a missed opportunity. In place of the shy nerd that she knew, I felt like I was going to show her how great a man (read: stud) I'd become, and bask in her approval.
This was all academic for a while, since I still didn't know how to get in contact with this long-lost beauty. I placed some calls to Dartmouth, where she had been planning on going to college, but they didn't seem to have any information on her.
I found her parent's phone number in an old phone book, but it was disconnected. I tried 4-1-1 in a couple of the bigger cities in my area, and had no luck. Short on any leads, I felt like the dream was fading fast.
After hunting for weeks, and keeping busy by using Amy and Mindy as "booty calls", fate suddenly stepped in.
I was at my part-time job at a supermarket, mopping some aisles on a Saturday morning. I had the job for three reasons: to earn some spending money, because I could swipe beer pretty easily, and because I could look at the owner's Asian daughters to pass the time.
As I mopped, and like everyone always did, some lady with two screaming brats ignored the "wet floor" sign and pushed her cart through my mess.
I was obligated to say, "Careful, ma'am, wet floor." I tried to do it in a non-annoyed tone, but I was never very good at that part of the job.
"Nick?" the person said, surprised.
I looked up and saw what had been the girl of my dreams. I recognized her, but she had changed a lot.
"Wow, Lexi?" I stammered, not out of nervousness, but out of shock that she would suddenly appear. "You look... good."
The number one thing that stuck out in the memory I'd been carrying of this girl was her perfect hourglass figure. I'm not sure there's ever been a more feminine body. In high school she had ideally perky, medium-large breasts, thirty-six inch hips, and a waist in between those areas that a man could almost wrap his hands around. The first year I remember really liking girls, I spent it memorizing every perfect inch of her.
Imagine my disappointment when I saw her in my grocery store, in baggy sweat clothes, pushing around two noisy kids. She still had her trademark white-blonde hair, but she was wearing it in a shorter cut and half of it was put up in tiny curlers that she didn't bother taking out to go shopping. I don't know how it happened to her in just a few years, but the fantasy that I'd been having seemed to have passed both of us by.
She was only about twenty-three at that point, but she looked like the years had worn on her much deeper than that. Lexi looked like she was trying to pass for forty.
"Nick, how have you been?" she asked me as she shook my hand enthusiastically. She started talking to me like we were old friends.
I was still shocked at what had happened to my dream girl—how worn out she looked.
"Things are going good for me, Lexi."
"Oh yeah? Do you have a girlfriend?"
"I've got a couple of girls, but its okay because they know about each other."
She laughed.
"No, really," I added.
"Oh." She looked me over.
"Tell me about you, Lexi, how have you been?"
"Oh, I've been... fine," she started. "I married Kyle right out of high school, and he convinced me to stay in town instead of going away to college. We had these little miracles." She motioned to her kids.
She was trying to sound upbeat, but the veiled impression she gave was that she was disappointed in her life.
We made small talk for a few minutes and, well, it was kind of weird. She talked to me like we used to be best friends instead of two people that had never really talked. I think she was lonely.
I asked her where she worked.
"Oh, I stay at home with the kids; my husband doesn't make a ton of money, but he doesn't want a wife that works, either."
It was a surprising answer from a girl that had plans to conquer the world.
We chatted for another minute when she suddenly said in a low voice, "Nick, I think those girls are staring at us."
I looked over my shoulder, and saw two of my coworkers, the daughters of the owners, looking my way meekly and giggling to each other. I realized right away that they'd somehow heard about my oversized penis.
"Oh, that's nothing," I downplayed. "I think they just heard a rumor that's been going around about me."
"Nothing big, I hope?"
"Lexi, you have no idea."
She raised an eyebrow. "Well, what is it then?"
"Really, I can't tell. Not right now, anyway-- maybe some other time. You have your kids with you and, well, this is gossip for grownups."
Now her interest was really peaked. "Come on, whisper it to me."
"No, I really shouldn't."
"Okay," she said dejectedly. "Well, do you want to hang out sometime?"
I was shocked at the way she tossed out that offer. Why would she want to hang out? She's a married woman.
Part of me wanted to say, "No." I was disappointed at what had happened to her, and didn't really feel the desire to fuck her anymore. Even so, I found myself stammering:
"Uhm, sure."
"Great! That will be fun!"
