When I was 15, I lost a significant amount of weight.  In my case, this was a positive thing.  It was around that time I discovered something that I had learned years earlier, but had never really understood. People treat you differently when your appearance changes. I also learned that men, especially young men, are whores. 
    I made my discovery one night, after going through some old clothes, so I could throw away all the “fat” ones. Led Zeppelin was playing on the radio, and I sang along as I worked my way through the pile of jeans, putting some in a pile to throw away, and some folded neatly on my bed. I was really enjoying myself.
   I found, amongst them, a pair of size 5 jeans that I hadn't seen or worn since I was eleven years old. I tried them on, and to my amazement, they fit me! They were a little snug, but I didn't have to lay down to zip them up. 
   I went into the bathroom, and looked at myself in the mirror from all angles, and admired myself in the jeans. Damn, I looked good! 
   I brushed my long brown hair, not because it needed brushing, (I had already brushed it a hundred strokes and then some, as I did every day back then.....) Rather, I brushed it as an excuse to remain in the bathroom so I could admire myself in the mirror a bit longer. I turned this way and that as I brushed, my eyes roaming up and down my body.
    How come these jeans didn't look this hot on me when I was eleven? I wondered.  Maybe they did and I just didn't know it?
     My ass, the one place where I hadn't lost much weight, looked simply fabulous in these jeans. Two smooth, round globes. Tempting, like apples not quite ripe enough to bite into. 
    I wished I was twins so I could make love to myself. 
    It seemed a shame to enjoy this moment alone, so I decided to take a walk to the Mickey Dee's down the road. If anyone happened to be out, I would generously allow them to admire me as I walked by. 
      It was a damp, drizzly night, and the road was deserted. 
      I walked all the way to Micky-Dee's and all the way back without seeing a soul. It was getting late, but I was so enjoying myself so much that I decided to walk up to Hunterbrook Road and back...a short distance in the opposite direction, just to prolong the moment.
      I began to sing as I walked, and because nobody was there to hear it, I sang pretty loud. I was about halfway to the little bridge by Hunterbrook, when I heard something. I stopped and looked over my shoulder. 
       Nothing. 
       Silence. I began walking again, not singing anymore, just listening. I heard it again. Was it an animal? No... a footfall. It was definitely a person.
       I turned towards the noise, now on my guard and reached inside my pocket for my knife. It was a viciously sharp knife, a k55, the blade honed to a razor sharpness, loosened to open with the flick of my wrist, like a switchblade. 
     " Gina?” said a voice I recognized.
    “Who’s there?” I demanded, my heart beating double time. Out of the shadows stepped a person dressed all in black, obviously a male. His clothing made him blend in with the night, except for his long blonde hair, which shined in the dim light of the moon. 
      After a couple of seconds I realized it was John, a 16 yr old neighbor, on whom I had a terrible crush. He was a “bad” kid, and nobody on my block was allowed to hang out with him. (So naturally, I hung out there all the time, but mostly with his brothers, who would actually talk to me.)
    I was surprised to see him...and even more surprised he knew my name. 
    He and I had never even spoken, although I had sat at his kitchen table many times playing Spades with his brothers. He was by far the most attractive member in his family, and he knew it. He had a confident, arrogant way of walking.   His facial expressions and body language made it obvious that he considered himself a God, above the rest of the mere mortals who played cards at his kitchen table. The fact that he was seemed to think so highly of himself, and was so impossibly cute, coupled with the fact that I had a boyfriend, and he had a girlfriend, made him seem unattainable, thus, all the more attractive.

   “What are you doing out here?” I asked him.    
   “I was about to ask you the same thing.” He responded.
   I was, for the first time in my life, at a loss for words. I couldn't even think. What was I doing out here again? I couldn't even remember now. I just stood there gaping at him. He smiled. 
    “So....you want to get high?” he asked, breaking the silence.
    “Sure!” I said, smiling back. The night just kept getting better and better!
     We walked the short distance to his house, making small talk, chatting. By the time we arrived, I was beginning to feel comfortable. I don't know why I thought he was so unfriendly. He was really sweet! 
     “Let’s smoke it behind the garage, so we don't have to share with my brothers.” He said. I agreed.With that many brothers, one joint wouldn't go very far. It made perfect sense. 
      I followed him behind the garage, where there were two milk crates, and he offered me one, making a grand gesture as though he were offering me his finest accommodations, and feeling honored, I graciously accepted and sat down.
      We smoked, talking all the while as though we had known each other all of our lives. John was a great conversationalist. He really listened to what I was saying, and responded intelligently. When the joint was gone, he went into the house and returned with a six pack of beer. This really WAS my lucky night! John was nothing like I thought he was, rather, he was sensitive, funny, and intelligent. He was also generous, allowing me to drink five of the beers while he sipped at one.
       We talked about everything under the sun, from religion, to the government, politics, music, ourselves and our lives, and after an hour I felt as though I really liked him as a person.
       What a nice guy, I thought.
       It was right about then, that he leaned over and put his hands on my shoulders, pulled me toward him, and kissed me right on the mouth. 
       I was stunned. 
       Sure I found him attractive and all... but a fantasy was one thing... Having it REALLY happen was quite another. I let him kiss me... for a second or two. I could smell the Breck shampoo in his hair... (the only brand he every used, according to him.) 
      A part of me wanted to respond... to reach up and run my hands through his hair... and feel his strong shoulders and arms....and down his back...all the way down to his ass. And I could have if I was so inclined. The opportunity was presenting itself, like a rose among a field of daisies waiting to be picked... but...He had a girlfriend. I had a boyfriend, and he knew it. This was wrong.
      I became indignant. All this time I had been under the mistaken impression that he actually LIKED me. Apparently he was only after the same things ALL guys are after. What in the world did he think he was doing? The NERVE! I pushed him away and told him I had to go.
       “What’s the matter?” he said grinning devilishly.“You know you want to do it.”
       “Um, no thanks.” I said. “I have to go home now...I think I hear my grandmother calling me!" I stood up. 
        My brain, the largest of the sexual organs, was screaming, “Are you CRAZY? You have dreamed of this moment for months!”
       He stood up also, and made another grab at me. Again, I pushed him away. I backed up a couple of steps, and reached into my pocket for my knife. I flicked it open and the loud click sound it made seemed like the period at the end of a sentence. Suddenly the night was silent except for the sound of our breathing. 
      “Get away from me!” I said, glaring at him and trying to sound menacing.
       He looked sort of surprised... and then he smiled. Then, he began laughing. 
       I couldn't believe it. He found this humorous! He wasn't the least bit frightened by my knife. This was not the reaction I expected, and it sort of knocked the wind out of my sails. I maintained my stance, and continued to glare, but I lowered the knife a little, confused. I had no idea how to respond.
      Still laughing, he took a step forward, and in one deft motion, he relieved me of the knife.  He looked into my eyes, and tilted his head sideways, 
    “You weren't really going to USE that thing on me, were you Gina?” he said, feigning sadness, but barely containing  a smile. His eyes sparkled with suppressed laughter. He closed the knife and handed it back to me, and embarrassed, I slipped it back into my pocket. He looked into my eyes, no longer smiling, but serious.  I looked back, unable to break away from his gaze.
      There was never a more perfect specimen of a man then John...Everything about him filled me with longing....it would be so easy to just let go....nobody would ever know! 
      His eyes probed  into mine, as though he were reading them,  gleaning information to use against me in the future. I looked back, drinking him in. Finally his serious expression changed to a satisfied smile. He had figured me out.
     “Let’s go to my room, where we can have more privacy.” With that, he turned, and began walking towards his house as if the matter were settled. 
     What an arrogant little jerk! My first impression had indeed, been correct. 
     He walked to the house never checking  to see if I was behind him.
     I hesitated before following... 
     The little path from the garage split off to the driveway,and another path led to his back door. I went as far as where the path split off, but at that point I turned left, toward the road and my grandparents house.     
     John continued straight, assuming in his arrogance, that I was behind him. By the time he realized I wasn't, there, I was almost to the edge of his driveway, about  to turn the corner and go home.
    "You know you want to!” he taunted, having finally realized that his plans had been canceled, and he was not getting any.
   “Bite me”,  I replied, as I continued walking towards home.
   “Suck my cock!” he retorted,never knowing how close I'd come to doing just that.
    No big loss...he probably wasn't the sort of guy to reciprocate anyway.