The Littlest Thing
Copyright© 2025 by Old Man with a Pen
Chapter 3
SPLASH.
The compulsion was immediate.
<Nothing to see here. Nothing happened. NOTHING! You did not see a thing.>
The message was in my mind ... over and over and over. Like a music mind worm. Constant and demanding.
I work as a lifeguard ... at a nude beach ... a nude beach that has a court order. A court order that says ... children are ALLOWED. Teen children. Teen Female children. I go to school with some of those female children.
What I want and what I do are two diametrically opposed things. Pay attention to voices in my head?
Ain’t happening.
If I paid attention to the voices in my head ... I’d be out of an extremely well paid and erotically visual experience ... and probably arrested.
‘Did too.’ I replied.
<Shit fire.>
‘It’s evidently evident that you are alive and not from here.’
<Oh ... I’m from here ... first generation.>
First generation ... I was born here ... my parents might be ... aliens. We, as Americans, are reasonably used to that. This bit of floating leather ... his...
<Her. Thank you very much.>
‘Her’ parents might be from ‘out of country’ and uncertain immigration status. Happens I go to school with several lightly tanned first generation students whose parents claim to have ‘green card’ status ... maybe.