It’s funny how the
wrong professor can make even the most interesting subject sound boring, isn’t
it? That had been your last conscious thought as Mr. MacDonald had droned away
about 13th century Anglo-Saxon village life on an unusually warm
Thursday afternoon. Normally you loved world history, but fourth period came
around just as your lunch was putting you into a food coma, and the hazy warmth
of the afternoon was lulling you into the twilight zone of daydreams.
Battling to
stay awake would have been impossible if it hadn’t been for her. At 5’10” she already
stood half a head taller than the rest of the girls, but her dark auburn hair
was a dead giveaway that Katelyn was in the room. She was the only redhead in
your school, redhead mind you, not ginger. You remember last year when Kyle
Tucker had tried teasing her about being a ginger. He hadn’t even been able to
finish his line about not having a soul before the she had slammed him into a
locker, forearm at his throat, and delivered a quick gut punched that knocked
the air out of him. Everyone had gone dead silent, the only sound in the whole
hallway had been Kyle’s wheezing as he gasped.
“I’m a redhead
Kyle, got it? If you don’t know what red is I’d be more than happy to show you
just how red my fist can be after it’s done with your face. Now get your colour-blind
looking ass out of here.”
With a quick
shove Kyle retreated to the safety of the crowd that had gathered. And like
Moses of old, Katelyn’s athletic frame parted the Red Sea of faces, and with
head held high had walked out of the building and into infamy.
No one ever
messed with Katelyn after that.
After replaying
the memory in your head, you leaned back in your chair and smiled. Katelyn wasn’t
a mean girl by any means. But she’d always been competitive, ever since elementary
school. And as captain of the girls basketball and volleyball teams, you’d see
firsthand just how physical she could be on and off the court. She also ran
track and field, and rumor has it that the only reason she hadn’t been team
captain there too was because her best friend Stephanie was the only one who
could outrun her, so Stephanie was captain instead.
How did you
know all this? Well on top of being a history and science nerd, you also
happened to write and edit for the school newspaper. So attending sports events
featuring the auburn beauty wasn’t an uncommon way to spend your evenings. You
may or may not have expanded your journalist duties by interviewing athletes
from time to time. And while Kyle hadn’t complained to any of the principles
about what happened with Katelyn that day, probably out of embarrassment for
being publicly manhandled by a girl, you used it as an opportunity to interview
the school’s most badass redhead for an article you were suddenly writing on
bullying.
A few days
later you’d caught up with her at lunch.
“So what
kind of defense does a girl like you have to play off the court here at school
when it comes to bullying?” You’d asked.
“Not much
really. I feel like most of the bullying that happens at school is towards
people who are alone and different. I’m different because I’m tall, and I’m a
redhead, but I also don’t take any crap, from anyone.”
As you
dutifully jotted down some notes you couldn’t help but notice the way her eyes
gleamed as she spoke. Her two deep pools of sapphire with flecks of white
seemed to soften as she talked about those who had it rough, but hardened into
cold steel when she mentioned not putting up with any BS. You’d known her a
long time, but not well enough to gage her moods. You wondered what else you
could learn just from her body language.
Everything
about Katleyn screamed confidence. Her shoulders were broad, and her arms and
legs were well muscled, but defined and slender at the same time. You’d seen her
post up a girl 6 inches taller than her on the basketball court, but fly across
the finish line of a 10k race with the grace of a gazelle. She almost exclusively
wore jeans, or exercise clothes, a product of being in all of the school’s
sports. But today she had on something a little more patriotic. Her dark hair
was wrapped in a pony tail behind her, a few loose strands falling over her eyes.
She wore a red v-cut top that showed an inch or two of cleavage (you’re a guy,
how could you not notice?), a royal blue pencil skirt that fit her a little too
well, and some red high-top converse. Her almost ivory skin made her outfit the
perfect combo of red, white, and blue. The only blemish you could observe was
the light freckles around her cheeks and a few on her arms and chest – but still
perfect.
You had
concluded the interview before she noticed you staring at her, and your article
had painted her as a victim turned hero, which only added to her growing
reputation. She seemed to walk a little taller that week, and after winning a
home basketball game, she’d approached you afterward and given you a surprise
hug.
“Sorry I’m
all sweaty”, she breathed. You didn’t mind at all. “But I wanted to thank you
for mentioning me in your article, I was a little worried I might get in
trouble, but now I feel more confident than ever at school. I’m not afraid of
anyone!”.
Still
surprised at such an affectionate interaction you replied, “I’m glad I could
help. And I know you’re not afraid, you scored like 30 points tonight!”
“Yup, and I
couldn’t have done it without you. I’ll see you in class!”
And with
that the new school celebrity had faded into the rushing crowd of cheering
students, eager to savor her victory. You hadn’t talked much since, but seeing
each other in class or at sports events was always a plus. What had triggered your
memory of this whole event?
Looking
across Mr. MacDonald’s classroom you saw her sitting next to Stephanie, the
blonde track and field captain, doodling away on a notepad and pretending to
listen. She was wearing the same red, white, and blue outfit from your interview
last year, and it was still one of your favourites. Just the way her skirt
pulled tight around her thighs, and how she always balanced her legs on the
balls of her feet, flexing her calves as if she was wearing high heels, made
the fabric of your jeans feel a little tight.
As the
lesson dragged on you noticed that Katelyn’s attention to her doodle was much
more rapt that before. You could tell whenever she was really focused on
something because her pink tongue would poke out from her lips. With all of her
interest on the drawing, her posture relaxed, and her legs uncrossed, leaving you
with a breathtaking view straight up the young woman’s skirt. Between the ivory
crests of her thighs, you could spot some dark red panties.
Quickly
glancing away before Katleyn, or anyone else for that matter, caught you
looking you did your best not to spare. Yet for the next 15 minutes her posture
never changed, and despite your best efforts your view always found its way
back to her maroon underwear. There was something about it, almost as if it was
a secret, she was just sharing with you. A false sense of intimacy swept over
you, the same as when you noticed her eyes softening, and all you knew was you
wanted to know her better, more intimately.
Finally the tall
girls legs closed in again, blocking your view to her crotch, and reality came
crashing in. Sitting there trying to hide the intense erection underneath the
waistband of your jeans, you sighed in frustration.
She’d
never go out with me, we come from two different worlds. Sports and Academics
just don’t mix, let alone the fact that she’s way out of my league.
But
something about the memory of her panties still hung in your mind. And the
desire to be near her never abated. Pulling out your own notebook you began writing
down notes, and drawing up plans for what was bound to be your most insane idea
yet.