Another long one, very little sex. I have taken scientific and anthropological liberties. But it's fiction. If you read it I hope you like it.
EVIL WOMAN
The trail was fairly dry and the big puddle normally at the bottom of the hill was much less muddy than normal. Rays of sunlight pierced the forest canopy brightening spots along the trail. On another day I would've far greater appreciated the warm early Spring weather and the joy of running the trail in such nice conditions..
But today I had much more on my mind.
Foremost was my concern over the girls. Somewhere down the list of concerns was my wife. For the moment I set that subject aside. The business was something I had to be concerned about too. It wasn't just me but I had a small group of people that were dependent on Hardwood Products for their income.
I guess I had always thought that in life if you worked hard, thought deeply and strategically about important matters, and made the right decisions, things would work out. Perhaps I'd done the first two of these things correctly but made mistakes on the third.
That brought me back to Mel. That is Melinda, my wife. I had to really put some thought in on this subject. I considered all this as I ran. It was probably a half mile later and I came to the conclusion, maybe I just never knew her that well.
Or maybe I only saw the parts of her that she wanted me to see. My mind drifted to many years ago at Saint Thomas where I first became aware of her. Who could have possibly imagined the way things were to go..
-- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- --
I was small as a freshman when I entered high school. My mother was of average stature and I had no memory of my father who died of pancreatic cancer when I was three years old. In the few pictures we had of him he looked average in size also.
During gym class I was still small and lean. I had just the traces of pubic hair. My penis seemed small to me particularly compared to the mid pubescent classmates with traces of whiskers, muscle definition, and larger stature.
High School is a particularly volatile time socially. The rules changed. What was important in fourth or fifth grade no longer mattered. The things that mattered were popularity, athletic achievement, outward appearance, and the opposite sex.
I figured that all out fairly quickly the fall of my freshman year. I already mentioned my size. I just had not hit puberty as early as most of my classmates. I also did not dress like them either. I wore the economy clothes from the discount stores. I knew even these cheap pieces of clothing taxed our home budget. I couldn't even dream of complaining about this to my mom.
Saint Thomas was a private school and I had earned an academic scholarship that my mom applied for through our parish church. Many of the other kids at school weren't Catholic, their parents sent them there for the academics and the prestige of their child's attendance at a private school.
So at first I was a bit of a social outcast. I was small, socio-economically inferior, and I wore unstylish clothes. The only people that seemed to gravitate towards me were the small cadre of misfits found in most schools. I carefully separated myself from that group.
I did go out for sports, and in the Fall that meant football. I was ignored by the other kids and the coaching staff because of my size. But I worked hard. I was fairly fast, I was smart, and I never gave up. It took a while but the coaches started to notice my productivity. Freshman year I didn't start, but I ended up playing a fair amount and I did well.
Winter was basketball season. One of the assistant football coaches was also the wrestling coach. He wanted me to try out for the wrestling team. It would've been the right sport for me. I was small, strong, athletic, and he knew I never gave up.
Instead I went out for basketball. I loved basketball, but as short as I was my chances were not great. But like I said, I was smart, and I determined the only way I was going to make the basketball team was with defense. In basketball defense is all about effort. And that was my specialty.
During tryouts when the taller kids would try to bring the ball up I would harass them defensively often causing a bad pass, a steal, or other turnovers. I was relentless and there was even a time or two the coaches told me to back off. They thought I was too intense.
On the last day of tryouts one of the bigger kids posted me up on a pick and roll. With his superior bulk he tried to back me down. I wouldn't budge. He became frustrated and hammered an elbow into my face. I held my ground and with blood dripping down my chin from a split lip I stripped him of the ball and passed it ahead to a teammate.
A quick glance over at the sidelines I saw the head coach looking at me with a small smile on his face. We made brief eye contact and I saw him give me a slight head nod, as if he appreciated the way I played.
I made the team, once again not a starter, but whenever there was a particular defensive assignment that needed an injection of energy, they put me in.
Through my freshman year my social status changed. I still was on the far outer circle of the popular crowd, but also much further away from the misfits. My athletic ability helped raise my social impression but my lower socio-economic standing was like an anchor that held me down.
Firmly in the midst of the highest social echelon was Melinda Manning. To me she had a high school glamorous look almost like a celebrity. Different from all the other girls. She wore stylish and expensive clothes. Her parents shuttled her back and forth from school in a newer European car. She had an inner clique of attractive girls that seemed to be constantly near her as she traveled the campus of Saint Thomas. And there was no doubt, Melinda was the queen.
The Freshman boys had a parallel group that were roughly equivalent to Melinda and her crowd but the boys were not quite to her level socially. She dated juniors and seniors.
As I said I was on the outer fringe of that group, but for me, I was just happy to be close to the in-crowd at Saint Thomas.
I had to maintain a minimum 3.25 grade point for my scholarship to be renewed. I knew this meant a lot to my mom so academically I put a lot of effort in. All through high school I was close if not at a 4.0. I learned early that intelligence and effort can go a long way to success.
By my senior year I had finally hit my growth spurt and I was now six foot and one quarter inches tall, and a solid one hundred and sixty-eight pounds. I played safety on the football team and started. I still wasn't starting in basketball but I was one of the first few players off the bench.
Our football team was decent, but our basketball team wasn't. Some of the other private schools 'recruited' often taking inner city kids in on scholarship for athletic purposes. Saint Thomas didn't do that. Fortunately for me they gave academic and hardship scholarships instead.
With my status firmly in the middle of the most popular group I often had opportunities to be near Melinda. I found myself staring at her and even embarrassingly was caught by her with my stares a time or two. But she was worthy of the stares. By the time she was a senior she had femininely filled out.
Every Fall at Saint Thomas there was a 'Sadie Hawkins' dance. This was a girl ask boy affair. In todays feminist and equality seeking political climate this seemed slightly old fashioned. But the dance was fun and I had been asked, and went last year and had a good time.
As the date of the dance approached, through internal gossip, we learned that Melinda had asked a kid from Morningside. Morningside was a public school on the north side of town and was a high school sports powerhouse.
I had heard of the kid that Melanie had asked and knew he was supposed to be a pretty good athlete. His name was Jon Pierre Terry. Terry hadn't played on the Morningside football team when we played them, but I had heard he was a good basketball player. Even without him Morningside crushed us in football.
As the date of the dance approached, so far, I was not going. The Thursday before the dance out of the blue I was asked to go by Taylor Pilkington. I immediately accepted. Taylor was good looking and part of Melanie's inner circle and I was happy to be her date, even though it was a bit last minute.
I found myself drifting into romantic fantasies about a relationship with Taylor. I imagined us staying together through senior year and maybe even going to the same college together. I conjured more permanent and long term scenarios for Taylor and I. My imagination was churning up different romantic bubbles about the two of us.
By Friday I learned the circumstances behind my date with Taylor and quite quickly all the bubbles were popped.
Taylor originally had asked some guy named Erik something from Morningside, who was a buddy of Jon Pierre, Melanie's new boyfriend. Less than a week before the dance he backed out with some excuse that he was going to be out of town. Without many options, Taylor asked me.
As all the imaginary romance scenes receded. I was left silently disappointed. Maybe I could charm her at the dance I thought and my spirits were slightly buoyed.
The dance was fun, but it was clear early on that there would be no burgeoning romance between Taylor and I.
Taylor turned to me as we arrived at the dance.
"Thanks Kevin for bringing me," she said as we entered, "you're a good friend." And then she gave me the briefest of hugs and left me to go find her friends.
If there was any doubt as to her feelings, it was now perfectly clear. I was the stand in date. Just a buddy.
Later I wandered over to where Taylor was sitting with a group of people. To her credit she did scoot over and pull an empty chair to the table so I had a place to sit. Taylor was a nice person; she was just making it abundantly clear that we were just friends.
Among the people sitting at the table were Melanie and her date, Jon Pierre. Melanie looked amazing. Her dark blond hair was perfect framing her beautiful face. She had on a satin black top that plunged a bit displaying the tops of her full breasts. She had near green eyes that seemed to be mostly aimed at Jon Pierre.
Jon Pierre was a bigger guy, probably 6'4 or 6'5. I could imagine him being as good as I had heard at basketball. He was lean, small waisted, broad shoulders. An athletic build. He had slightly long black hair and a smiling carefree demeanor. I had to admit it, he was a good looking guy. They looked like the perfect couple.
The evening progressed and I danced with Taylor a few times. I danced with a couple of other girls too. I was taking a break when out of the blue there was a commotion on the dance floor. I glanced over at the activity and I saw Taylor agitated about something.
I walked over and there was a guy, bigger than me, a bit disheveled, talking loudly and grabbing Taylor's arm. The guy Taylor had originally been dancing with was backing up, extricating himself from the situation. The big guy was talking loudly to a visibly unhappy Taylor.
"Erik," Taylor cried, "let go of me, I'm not dancing with you."
"C'mon babe," he said, slightly slurring, "I'm supposed to be your date."
I looked closely at the guy. Not as tall as Jon Pierre, but bigger, whether muscle or fat I couldn't quite tell, but certainly over 200 pounds. He had a sloppy arrogant grin on his face. This, I quickly concluded, was Taylor's original date. I also concluded she now wanted nothing to do with him.
"Easy pal," I said as I stepped forward into the midst of the confrontation.
The big guy, Erik, ignored me and continued to plead with Taylor, with his grip still latched onto her arm.
