Ben Esra telefonda seni boşaltmamı ister misin?
Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32
Between the Devil and the Deep Blue Sea: Memories”I’m legal! I’m legal!”Celia Ward’s uniform pinafore pleats below her hips swirled as she danced backwards down the austere corridor, the brick walls painted in dull battleship grey and the sombre dark lino floor lit feebly from the lights overhead. Our accompanying celebratory laughter suddenly died.”At last, I’m L….”Celia looked at our change in expression and swung round. At the end of the corridor at the entrance to her study stood Miss Hardcastle. With a sour look and a too-short, severe haircut that gave us the creeps, she crooked her finger at Celia beckoning her to come hither. Celia turned to us briefly with a look of horror on her face before tramping to her punishment. Miss Hardcastle looked completely through me as if I didn’t exist; for although I was touted to be the brightest sixth former, half a decade intellectually in front of my peers, I still wasn’t growing by much nor suffering from a surfeit of estrogen turning my teenage mind to mush, though. I only wished the taps that controlled the estrogen were turned more fully up!I mean, I still had what us girls would call ‘a pash’ but I couldn’t find any for the local boys with their maraş escort honking adenoidal noises, nor for the strange two dimensional pop stars that appeared on our black and white television screens. Well, ours anyway because we couldn’t afford a colour tv or licence. No. My pash were for newsreaders; older men with authority and confidence. Groomed and worldly-wise. One in particular, Reggie, used to read the news with a cute, confident drawl and ending with a lop-sided grin that made my heart flutter. Oh, yes. We would bump into each other on his holiday here in my town on the south coast, sweep me up into his arms and whisk me back to his smart Chelsea apartment where we’d mingle night after night with the Tele-stocracy, drinking and dancing…. My reverie was broken as I walked outside into the brightness and warmth of an early September afternoon’s sun. A slight breeze billowed my summer dress, the coolness against my legs a reminder that autumn was fast approaching. I stopped and pulled the white socks up fully to my knees. I was only wearing this dress as my mother had ‘forgotten’ to buy a new school pinafore in time for the new term and I’d have to wait until the weekend to get it. escort maraş I wasn’t the only girl in a gingham checked summer dress but having been washed countless times since May, it was almost transparent, the voluminous regulation school knickers reaching up to my chest underneath were plainly visible, not only could the dark colour be easily seen, but if the the small tab sewn into the waistband stuck up, the manufacturer’s name and knicker size could almost be read! The dress had a little belt which when tied, emphasised my slightly plump bottom, which seemed to be the only thing of me growing fast! I wasn’t complaining though, it was only embarrassing whilst at school. My timetable was quite thin with only three subjects and a lot of ‘study time’ allowed. It meant that I could leave school during the day and make my way through the rather down-at-heel coastal resort in which I lived and down to the promenade and beach. And so I walked down steps now with butterflies in my tummy, trying to walk fast but not break into a run. I reached the not-quite-as-busy promenade and walked along for a while until I arrived at my favourite study location: A shelter that allowed one to sit out of any wind, maraş escort bayan a squat, concrete and opaque glass structure that seemed to be constructed to withstand a full scale bombing run, although there were rust stains, puddles of water left by the sea and an musty smell within which reduced its aesthetic appeal. I placed my satchel on the far end of the bench seat, briefly pulling up my loose knickers up tight and then sat upright against the satchel with my legs along the bench. I reached round and took out a study book placed it in my lap and began reading it, with the sound of the waves breaking against the shingle on the beach.Soon I heard the sudden sound of grit between a leather sole and the concrete floor of the shelter. My heart took a little leap and the butterflies in my tummy worsened. I looked up to see a middle aged man entering the shelter. He nodded briefly as he made his way towards the bench. As he sat down, I made more room between us by drawing my knees up and pulling my feet towards my bottom which I shifted downwards until they met. My heart was beating faster. Reading my book – well, actually a sentence I must have read about a million times without comprehending it – I saw out the edge of my vision his gaze turn from looking out to sea and briefly looking across to me before turning his gaze downwards, below my knees and between the white socks to a triangle of navy blue…To be continued…
Ben Esra telefonda seni boşaltmamı ister misin?
Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32