"How come I don't have a body like Summer's," Amanda wondered as she stared at her wet, naked body in the mirror. She turned a little sideways and frowned as her breasts barely stuck out from her chest. Her hair hung wetly down just to her shoulders, framing her oval face. She wrinkled her nose as she wished for the sprinkling of freckles over her nose and cheeks to just disappear.
Methodically, she blow-dried and brushed her dark blond hair, fussing with it until it curled just slightly at the ends. She opened her drawer and sorted through her panties. "Valentine's day and not a red one in the bunch," she moaned. "Except," she touched the never worn red-lace bikinis. "I couldn't. What if someone saw?" she told herself.
"Like who," herself answered. She shrugged and pulled the red lace out of the drawer and up over what she felt were her "too fat" thighs. "I gotta start trimming these or they'll be calling me thunder thighs," she groaned. "Or bubble butt." She winced as she turned her back to view her backside. It always looked too big to her.
She squirmed a bit and then looked in the mirror again. A couple of wisps of her brown curls peeked out around the edge of the skimpy panties. She poked them back under the elastic and opened her closet door. What to wear today, that was always the hardest decision of the day.
She pushed hangers around until she came to a denim skirt she had bought on a whim two weeks ago. It was just a little tight. And a lot too short, she reminded herself. "What the hell," she said aloud as she pulled it off the hanger and up her legs. It wasn't as tight as she remembered, but it was just as short. She pirouetted in the mirror and watched as the bottom of the skirt rose almost to the point where her lacy panties were visible.
It was a little cold out, so she pulled the hem of the skirt up and pulled a pair of thigh high stockings on. The silky stockings felt good as they slid softly over her newly shaved legs. Too bad no one else gets to feel these, she wished to herself.
She opened her underwear drawer again and pondered which of her plain Jane white brassiere's to wear. "Sometimes I wonder why I bother with these things," she said as she pulled one out. "It's not like they are big enough to need any kind of support."
With a wicked glint, she tossed the bra back into the drawer and closed it with an audible thump. She pulled her red sweater over her head and smoothed it over the top of her skirt. She smiled as she pulled her hair out of the turtleneck. Not bad, she thought. "A little makeup and I'll be," she mused, opening her purse. "The best looking girl without a date on Valentine's day," she answered.
Amanda put on a little mascara, a bit of blush, a touch of eye shadow, and some lipstick. Then she picked her thin gold framed glasses and put them on her face. "Okay, so I'm a cute nerd," she said. "I guess I can live with that."
She picked up her books and her coat and headed off to class.
Danny was in a hurry. Boy he hated his schedule. English Lit at 8 in the Compton Building followed by Geology 101 at 9 in the Garrett Building all the way across campus. So far Ms. Maxwell had been nice and not said much about his arriving a couple minutes late every day. But she did frown each time as he opened the door and slipped into the back of the class room. Ten minutes was just not enough to get across the crowded campus. He frowned as he looked for a path through the throngs that crowded the campus sidewalks.
Maybe if I, his thought was interrupted as he bumped into her. She fell immediately at his feet. He looked down stunned. "I, I, um, oh, I'm sorry, Miss," he stammered reaching down to help her up.
His eyes were drawn immediately to her stocking clad thighs and the red panties peeking out between them and her denim skirt. Amanda blushed as she realized that her skirt had flown up and this boy could see her lacy panties. She blushed even more when she felt the tingle between her thighs.
"Why don't you watch where you're going, jerk," she said pushing his hand aside and standing up, straightening up her skirt.
"I'm really sorry," he said blushing himself. "I guess I wasn't paying attention. It's just that I have... Oh Christ, I have two minutes to be in Garrett 107. I'm really sorry." He handed her the books he had picked up and quickly penciled his name and campus mailbox number on a piece of paper.
"If there's anything I can do to make up for it, put a note in my box. And I'll pay for the stockings. But I have to go. Just put a note in my box." He dashed away leaving her staring at his fleeing backside. "And a very nice one at that," she caught herself whispering.
Amanda frowned as she looked down at the tear in her stocking. I can't wear these now, she thought. They look terrible.
After a quick stop in the women's rest room next to her calculus class, she sat down self consciously in her seat and listened to Mr. Strong ramble on about limits, again. Her mind wandered for a bit and then she opened her notebook. The piece of paper the boy who ran into her had given her was on top. Danny Watson, Box 39456. I wonder what class is in Garrett 107 now, she thought. Damn right, he's paying for these stockings. They weren't cheap.
Amanda was glad he had chosen to use the campus mailboxes to communicate. They weren't very private, but they were very anonymous. She wrote and rewrote the note five times. The first one was too bitchy. The second sounded desperate. The third, well, it wouldn't do at all. And the fourth, she wouldn't even admit to having written the fourth. Finally, she made it short and simple.
"Danny. Damn right you're paying for these stockings. They cost me $10. Amanda, Box 45721."
Suddenly nervous, she peered around the campus mailbox kiosk. Dozens of people pushed and shoved their way through the kiosk, picking up or dropping off messages and papers. Finally satisfied no one was paying attention to her, she put the note in his box.
She checked hers to make sure it was empty. Well, except for the usual ads to the local record store and a couple of restaurants. She tossed those out automatically and headed for her 11 o'clock English Lit class. She was looking forward to that. Mr. Reid was skipping his usual lecture and talking about sonnets and love poems this week. She smiled and walked into Volkman Hall.
Danny walked slowly back up campus. Ms. Maxwell laid into him good today. He had been nearly ten minutes late. If only he hadn't run into that girl. Well, truth be told, he thought, I'd like to run into her again. She was kind of cute. But nah, he frowned, girls like her with their fancy panties didn't have time for poor ex-farm boys like him. He shrugged. The campus mail kiosk was on his route back to his dorm room, so he slipped into it. He always checked for messages, even though he knew it would just be ads.
But this time there was a note. Amanda. Her name was Amanda, he mused. Something in the way she signed it struck a chord in him and instead of going back to his room, he slipped into the student hall and sat down at a study carrel.
I haven't done this in ages, he thought to himself as he pulled a clean sheet of paper out of his notebook and stared out the window. She'll probably just rip it apart, but," he said to himself, "nothing ventured, nothing gained."
So he pulled his red pen out and began to write. It was trite, he knew, but sincere.
"A fleeting glimpse as we crashed,
Miraculously thrown together,
And I was captivated,
Not able to get to know you better.
Dare we remedy this
And have lunch together?"
He smiled. At least I made the first letters spell her name, he thought, feeling a little clever. He drew a heart around the poem; after all it was Valentine's Day. Then he signed his name and his box number and scribbled, "Ludwig's at one? I have a 12:00 math class. If you're not there by 1:15, I'll assume you weren't interested. Sorry about the stockings." He pulled a ten dollar bill out of his pocket and carefully folded it inside the note.
"Hmmm. I better get some more cash before class," he said almost aloud as he checked his wallet. After a quick stop to put the note in her box, he was off.
I wish someone would write stuff like that about me, Amanda thought to herself as she strolled out of class. She sighed. Instead, I get some geek running me over and ruining my best pair of stockings. Oh well.
On a whim, she stopped to check her box to see if she'd gotten lucky. She was down to her last twenty bucks until her allowance from Dad came. Tomorrow, I hope, she said to her self. There was a note. She pulled it out and carried it to a bench nearby.
Looking around nervously, she opened the note. The ten dollar bill floated out of the note and she grabbed it quickly and put it in her purse. Well, at least he paid for the stockings. Her opinion of him rose a notch; no longer a geek, just a boy in a hurry.
She opened the note completely and stared at it. Poetry! About her! Never mind that it was trite and pretty lame, she admitted, but it was about her. Lunch? Hmmmm, did she dare? She had no more classes today. But one was kind of late, and she was hungry. Still, he had a cute butt and a sincere smile. Maybe...
Nah, that stuff only happens in fairy tales, she reminded herself. Still, she thought, she had nothing to lose. After all, he would be buying her lunch, wouldn't he? Well, he asked anyway. That was more than anyone else had done lately.
.... There is more of this story ...