Hot Lips

It was my senior year of high school. This story is not your typical boy-meets-girl story. In fact, it does not get there until much later. Her name is Fancy, but I call her by a different nickname. This is her story.

In my last year of high school, I had two classes with Fancy, whom I did not know that much. We sat on different sides of the classroom. We had different sets of friends. However, on the rare occasion that she crossed over to my side of the world, or when I would hear her voice, she had a bubbly, friendly demeanor. She was slightly shorter than me, with a buxom chest, and a pretty smile. What brought us together was… you guessed it. My love for writing. She’d read some of my work.

“You’re a little freak, aren’t you, Chad?” She said.

I shrugged sheepishly. We eventually became friends. Except for the occasional cleavage peek, I had little to no sexual feelings or lust for her. That was all about to change.

Fancy read my stories as a high school horn dog regularly. I got amused by how much she got taken aback by my material. I read her facial expression as she was reading. It was as if she was innocent.

“Chad, you could do this stuff for real,” she said, impressed.

Looking back at it, they were not that good.

“Thanks,” I replied.

I thought about her (and other girls that I showed my early work to). It intrigued me. All the boys I showed my stories to had a different reaction.

After we graduated from high school, she went to college in San Antonio while I stayed in town. Due to social media, we stayed in touch. A few years later, I was a junior in college and on my way to the library, when I saw her…

It wasn’t much. She had on sweatpants and a hoodie from our old high school. But there was something about her. She was more confident, more womanly. I could tell there had been a metamorphosis in her. She waved to me from her seat in the computer lab.

“Fancy. What’s up, girl?” I asked, with a warm smile.

“Hey, Chad.” We hugged briefly.