This one is the closest to a true story as anything so far. As always, comments of all denominations are welcome.
*****
Julie Brown was something special. Opinion was universal. She was bright and worked hard, the teachers respected her. She was a great swimmer, so the coaches loved her too. She broke records and kicked ass in inter-school meets from her early years. Our school started winning, something that never happened so all the students applauded her. She was humble and happy and her friends adored her. The boys, well, they all wanted to fuck her. Whenever guys gathered to speak of mischief, her name came up more than any other girl. Model legs, an ass built for a swimsuit and conspicuous breasts that sweetly fit her lines. Her face was Cindy Crawford without the spot, as was her hair. Or perhaps a more modern-day comparison was Vanessa Hessler. It's not very often a girl is the genuine and complete package, but Julie Brown was the real deal. The school, in fact the whole town, was proud to call her home-grown and one of theirs.
Me, I was just plain in love with her.
That didn't go very well, though. It's difficult to compete with 300 guys who all wanted to be her man. To make things worse she was a girl's girl, she wasn't one of those chics that needed a boyfriend. She was so nice to everyone. I couldn't tell you how many boys thought they were 'in' only to find out she simply liked them as a friend. Julie said 'no' so politely that no one ever felt bad. No one ever had a cross word to say of her afterward. I should know, I was one of the first.
Julie and I were in the same year from the beginning of high school. For us that means six years, grade 7 through 12. I had always been a popular kid before we met, I could use my boy charm on most girls I wanted into liking me - but not Julie. Part of my obsession with her, and part of my respect for her, was that she saw straight through me. She was the beauty I couldn't get, no matter how hard I tried. Yet she still liked me. I was one of her friends. Her face brightened when she saw me. When there was an empty seat in class she would slide effortlessly in beside me and chat like we were brother and sister. She wasn't flirting, she wasn't teasing, she was just nice. When people outside of school saw us together they thought we were a couple. I had to explain she's like that with everyone.
Sadly though, I have to report it didn't stay that way.
It took two years but finally somebody cracked the code. The bastard Michael Hendy. He never used to be a bastard, I used to quite like him but one year the rumor flew around over summer that Julie and him had hooked up. He was two years older than us. According to rumor Julie had liked him from the beginning, saying 'no' for two years to all the wrong guys until the right one finally asked.
He was ordinarily a decent guy, a fairly good footballer, straight A student, okay looking but no prime stud. Not entirely the sort of guy that you would expect to win the biggest prize of all. What was the big deal about older guys, why do girls always think the grass is greener in higher classes?
Anyway, suddenly most people's estimation of the bastard Michael Hendy shot up. Me, I hated him. With a passion. He was kissing my girl and it made my toes curl.
Tortuously it didn't change Julie one bit. Over the next couple of years she was as nice to me as ever. Her and Michael were completely conspicuous; they ate lunch together every day, had quick kisses before going off to class and all that mush. Yet she would leave her beau and run straight over to accompany me to Chemistry, and sit with me as always.
I cannot admit to mutual magnanimity. It tore me to see her happy. I hoped Michael would make her miserable, or serious, or flighty, or vain, anything, something different that would let me say "you've changed", to make her feel bad about the affect the relationship was having on her. But I couldn't. She was better and more adorable than ever. It was gut-wrenching.
I lay awake at nights wondering if she had done it with him. There were hickeys on her all the time. At first they were just on her neck but over time they drifted down. Her friends teased her about the ones they could see on her cleavage or coming out the side of her swimsuit. One time a group of us had been at the beach and she wore a tiny bikini - I have a worn-out photo - and every part of breast we could see had bruises at various stages of decay.
Yellow and purple patches covering the chest of a girl would usually look cheap and slutty, but not with Julie. It was the hottest thing I had ever seen. I could cum just thinking about how it must be to have my mouth latched onto her bare tits, sucking until she screamed half in pleasure half in pain. How glorious it must be to so obviously stake a sexual claim on a girl like Julie. My only consolation was there were never any on her thighs. Maybe, just maybe she was holding onto her pants. I hoped she was. I hoped the bastard Michael Hendy would get sick of her not putting out and drift away to looser women.
It never seemed to happen, though.
As we moved into year 11, the bastard Michael Hendy was no longer at school. He'd made his way to university, a two hour drive away. I wished it could have been further but it was enough to reduce his relationship with Julie to weekends. As the months passed I found her developing new patterns, getting more involved in after-school activities, going out with friends more, having more time for the likes of me.
I was so proud when she asked me to go with her on to the premiere of the Bond movie she won tickets for. Walking into the theater as a couple with Julie was the pinnacle of my own shadow relationship with her. But the slap-in-the-face was watching all the couples around us kissing and cuddling and stroking while we sat like mannequins in our seats, cold and formal. It put me squarely in my place. I learned that even if the atmosphere was right, even if the bastard Michael Hendy was out of town, even if no one would ever know anything, there was no romantic room for me in her soul.
After that night I fell away. I didn't put myself in the right spots in the hall to be found by her, I left no empty seat by my side in the classroom, I didn't stop boys sniggering disrespectful comments about what they would do to her in a dark corner. I lost the energy to care about Julie.
I did my best to find solace in the nubile body of Maggie Huang, a girl who in the absence of Julie Brown would rate a top score. But Julie wasn't absent, and I felt hollow and shallow every time I talked Maggie out of her pants. Not that Maggie minded, she was one of those girls that adored using her vagina for fun. Not only did she squeal in delight when a cock went in her, she would let me put anything in there that fit. But my mind was elsewhere every time.
I didn't know if Julie noticed I wasn't around as much. I wasn't paying attention. I was depressingly moving on past my dream. I'd had my shot at flight school and had failed the eye test at round one. It was time to think about being an accountant.
Funny things happen in life, though.
Three times a year there is a school dance, all year levels bunched in together. It's a big show on a Friday night. The students' social committee does much of the work on choosing the theme, the band, the schedule for the night, raising funds beforehand for decorations and prizes. Last dance is at 10 o'clock and the hall cleared by 10:30pm. Tradition states that the year 12s then have an after-party, all of them descending on a secret location, every time different and every time undisclosed until the day of the dance. The location is decided by the head boy and head girl in private. At the third and last party of the year, the year 11s aren't exactly invited but a few of them are tolerated to help soak up the atmosphere and pass on the legacy.
No way was I not going to be there. For years I had heard stories of what went on at these parties, I needed to see for myself. I got my buddy Bobby to 'borrow' his Mum's people-mover for the night and a group of us nervously fell in with the line of cars trailing out of town and into the back-blocks.
Usually the parties were at a karaoke box or at a privately hired bar or hotel suite, but this particular year's head boy and girl were a serious couple and had had every intention of getting away from the bright lights of town and into the darkness for some snogging. We were driving for nearly 25 minutes before the trail turned right down a track. Dust kicked up everywhere. It wasn't long until cars were parking higgledy-piggledy over an un-ploughed field.
My friends and I let the darkness hide the anxiety in our faces as we followed older people, walking to a flickering light in the distance without getting in their way. There were trees, a small wood had to be passed through until we came to a natural clearing. There were 3 big bonfires spaced around it, already well lit and established. It seemed a group had arrived some time ago to set up. There was a small area covered with canvas roof that was serving as a bar and some of the year 12 boys were pouring sausages onto a huge portable barbecue. There were a number of gas lanterns on the end of long poles sticking up from cylinders, giving light to dark corners of the bar. Logs with blankets over them were placed neatly back from each fire. It was far more organized than I expected given there were no adults anywhere. There were a couple of people I didn't recognize, but no one was much older than us. I breathed in a sense of freedom and adulthood I'd never had before.
At the beginning we had no idea of whether we could have a drink but some of the year 12s literally shoved a beer in our hands and told us to go get our own from now on, year 12s weren't there to serve year 11s! All in all it was a good-spirited crowd. As you can imagine there was a lot of drinking and yelling and fooling around and pairing off and my personal adrenalin was pumping. It wasn't exactly what I had expected, but it was fantastic. The feeling of being unsupervised at a party full of people who had always known supervision was interesting to say the least.
After a few beers I felt both relaxed and excited. A few of the year 12 girls started flirting with me, though I was smart enough to know they were probably setting me up for a prank. The head year 12 boy spotted me and pulled me over to cook, saying year 12s weren't there to serve year 11s. I guess they all had that said to them last year.
