By Margo Perry  (margo707 AT rogers DOT com)
Copyright 2008 by Margo Perry, all rights reserved.

“Paulie!  Are you keeping your eye on the clock?  You don’t want to be late for your last day of school.” 

The voice drifted up from the bottom of the stairs, wresting Paulie away from his dreams and back to reality.

“My time’s okay, Mom.  We don’t have to be in until ten today.  I’m just getting my stuff together.”

He had too much on his mind for this back and forth.  He walked into his bathroom and took one last look around.  His towels were neatly folded over their rack and his bath mat was fluffy clean.  The strong smell of a lemon flavoured disinfectant still lingered, indicating an antiseptic cleanliness that would easily meet the exacting demands of his military father.  He looked into his gleaming mirror and an earnest face that seemed too knowing for his eighteen years peered back at him through thick Woody Allen glasses.  He continued staring until his features began to blur and his mind began to wander …

Brett Ferrari returned from his bathroom to the bedroom where his wife had stretched out seductively on the bed.  He sat down in the large armchair by the picture window that overlooked the peacefully rippling ocean.  His wife slid across the bed, sauntered seductively across the room, and then crawled like a sexy kitten onto his lap. She began tonguing his ear and trailing soft and gentle kisses along his cheek bone and onto his neck.   He  eased his fingers inside her robe and gloried in the smooth  expanse of her huge breasts.  He gently caressed and massaged them, before finally pulling, twisting and teasing her aroused and extended nipple. 

Brett groaned as he felt the heat and wetness ooze from her naked pussy and through her skimpy robe.  His cock jerked with pleasure as her pussy throbbed, opening its lips to invite him in.

“I’m going to kiss your tits until you come,” he said.

He lifted her huge mound, bending his head to greet it.  He suckled it like a baby.  He licked its rubbery tip before applying his teeth.  He nipped and tugged and loved it when she shoved her hand desperately between her legs and began to buck and rub.

“I’m coming,” she cried out, as he nibbled and licked. “Oh God, I’m coming!

“I hope you’ve cleaned that bathroom.  It was a mess yesterday.”  His Mom’s intrusive tone was more strident this time.

“I did, Mom!”  Paulie waited and then sighed, relieved to hear her footsteps retreating down the hall toward the kitchen.  When he turned back to the mirror, the face he saw looked much too burdened.  And there was something else.  His ruddy complexion was suffused with a dizzying mix of youthful anticipation and fear.

For the last few years, Paulie had felt that something deep inside him was changing – evolving from egg to caterpillar to cocoon - and now a butterfly waited in the wings, ready to take him on the flight of his life.  The thought scared him half to death.  Sweat began to prickle his forehead and stain the armpits of his freshly laundered school shirt.  His stomach began to churn and his legs were losing strength.  His heart was pounding out of his chest and the bathroom was suddenly much too small.  He knew the feeling.  An anxiety attack was well on its way  He rushed into his airy bedroom, lay down on his bed and began his deep breathing ritual.  In his head, a calm and influential voice began its incantation:

Lie back and relax.  Close your eyes.

Breathe deeply and slowly.

You are awake, but dreaming.

Let the air take you to your writing place.

There you are safe.  There you are free.

There you are all you need to be.

Paulie`s breathing slowed, deepened and soon he felt himself drifting away …

Charles Lamborghini lay on the narrow cot, too afraid to open his eyes or breathe.  He remembered being on duty in the district of Mushai, some 30 km from Kabul.  He could still hear the sounds of rapid fire whizzing past him.  Fear crowded his throat as he uttered scream after silent scream.  He remembered being hit in the leg and pain so intense that it turned to fire, burning him into a state of unconsciousness.  But where was he now?  Who had brought him here

He opened his eyes.  He was alone in a tent.  Through its flap, he could see the majestic mountains that separate Afghanistan and Pakistan.  His upper thigh was bandaged and aching.

“How are you feeling?”

Charles couldn’t believe his eyes.  A beautiful Afghan woman rose from a blind corner in his tent.  She was bourkha free and her kind grey eyes held his as she walked toward him.  Her still flowing garments fell sensuously over her womanly curves to just above her delicate ankles.  She held one slim finger against her full lips and Charles knew to be quiet.

The medicine stung as she redressed his wound, but her fingers were pleasantly cool against his skin.  He watched her ponderous breasts sway gently beneath her robes as she applied a bandage. He was nervous and in pain, but still couldn’t help the bulge that was growing in his pants.  He blamed her beauty. He blamed her kindness.  He blamed her touch.  He knew he shouldn’t beg, but he needed her flesh, he needed her closeness.    He felt so alone.  So afraid.  He knew that any fraternization would be against her morals.  Probably against her religion.  If only his urges weren’t so strong.

But then, hadn’t she already gone way beyond the call of duty.  Wasn’t he her enemy?  Hadn’t she saved him and nurtured him back to health?  Hadn’t she already done more than he had any right to ask?  “Just thank her for her care and leave her in peace,” he cautioned himself. 

He didn’t know quite how to show his appreciation, so he took her hand.  In that moment, the current that passed between them was as erotic and electric as any he’d ever felt.  He had no choice but to draw her to him.  And she had no choice but to acquiesce.

Their kiss dissolved all borders and they slowly discarded the clothing that was twisting between them.  He felt like they were the only people in the world as he uncovered her humongous breasts and gasped at the sight of them.  They were as lush, full and ripe as any fruit any man had ever eaten.  And as he sucked her nipples, the unspoken love between them flooded their souls.  Soon his cock found its way home to a place so welcoming, so warm, so full of lust that he wanted nothing but to hold on.  He needed to show her all his love.  But it was too hard to hold back the pleasure that was building inside him, impossible to fight the inevitable.  He began to buck.

“Paulie, don’t make me climb those stairs again!”

Startled out of his reverie, Paulie sat bolt upright in his bed.  He was still breathing heavily, but now from excitement rather than anxiety.  “I’ll be right down,” he called out,  hoping to send her retreating to the kitchen once more.  When he was sure she was gone, he jumped off his bed, slipped on his back pack and grabbed two letters that lay on his desk.  He held them close to his heart.  They were acceptances with full scholarships from his first two choices of universities.  Paulie was feeling especially proud because he had applied all on his own, despite his often crippling apprehensions.

Over the years, Paulie had tried to talk to his parents about his anxiety, but they insisted that what he called panic attacks were simply normal growing pains.  He knew that his parents loved him in their own weird way, but for eighteen long years he’d been needing their attention, needing them to hear him.  But they couldn’t.  Or wouldn’t.  No attention was forthcoming.  Not from them.  Nor from the teachers who’d given him so many A’s without ever noticing who they were giving them to.  And not from his school mates who’d branded him Nerd of Nerds.  Paulie’s only choice had been to develop an inner sanctum from which he could observe the world and give himself all the love and attention he needed.  He had worked hard to accomplished just that.  And while he no longer needed any of their attention, today was the day he’d get it, like it or not.  And in spades!  He had no idea how anybody would react, but he didn’t care.  “Que Sera Sera.”   He hummed his mother’s favourite tune as he headed downstairs.

He was scarcely halfway down when he heard their raised voices.

“Don’t change the subject,” his mother was insisting.

“I’m not changing the subject!  I know I’m leaving on Monday, but I can’t tell you just how long I’ll be in Iraq.  As soon as I know, you’ll know.  Right now I want to know about the boy’s college plans!”

“The boy?  His name is Paulie.  If you were around more, you’d already know what colleges he’s applied to.”

“Will you just tell me!  Jeez, woman!  You can be the most infuriating creature!”

“I don’t know any more than you do.  Paulie hardly talks and, like you, everything about him is some big goddamn secret.”

“Is he upstairs?  I’ll go on up and …”

“Don’t you walk out on me,” his mother screeched, just as Paulie walked into the room.

“I’ve heard enough,” Paulie said, calmly.  “This should answer your questions.”

He passed one envelope to his father and the other to his mother, watching carefully as they opened them.  He waited through the silence, through the blank stares that masked their true feelings.

“I’m proud of you, boy,” his father said, finally.

“Translation: I’m glad that I don’t have to pay your tuition,” his mother hissed.

“Don’t spoil this for him,“ his father snapped back.  He walked up to Paulie and took him in his arms.  “I think it’s time for us to share our first beer, my boy.  I have to leave for Iraq on Monday.  Let’s make that happen before I go.”

Paulie could feel a torrent of tears threatening to overcome him.  He couldn’t remember his father ever telling him that he was proud of him before today.  And he couldn’t remember the last time his father had hugged him.  And while his mother hugged him frequently, her embraces often felt too tight and too needy.

“Thanks, dad,” he said, managing to maintain his composure.  “And it’s a ‘yes’ to the beer.”

“Shouldn’t you eat something before you go?” his mother asked.

“No thanks,“ Paulie said, as he turned to leave.

The day was sunny, but cool for a spring day.  Paulie enjoyed the short walk to the bus stop where  a few kids were waiting.  He ran to join them as the bus approached.

“Hi,” he said, taking his place at the end of the short line.  And his shoulders sagged as it registered that not one person was going to return his greeting.  “Their turn now, mine later,” he told himself, as he climbed onto the bus.  He hated the process of finding a seat, wondering who would be happy to have him sit beside them.  He looked down the aisle at the bored faces of his schoolmates until their images dissolved and …

Farley Jag looked out at the sea of beautiful sylphs filling the school bus.  The only available seat was one in the back row.  The girls presented a smorgasbord of delights: Short, tall, and in between.  Brown, blond and raven haired.  And their complexions ran from cool alabaster to warm chocolate.  The only things they all had in common were their huge breasts and their determination to tease and torture him with them

As Jag walked slowly toward the back of the bus, girls rose from their seats and followed him.  His heart pounded with excitement and his balls ached deliciously blue from over stimulation.  Lewd giggles and whispers came at him from all sides. There was no doubt that they were hatching a plot, the victim of which would certainly be himself.  Jag could feel the hairs standing up on the back of his neck as the crowd behind him grew and the intense sexual excitement mounted.  He had almost reached his seat and still had no idea what they planned to do to him.  He wished he could stop his cock from tenting his pants.  He wished he could stop pre-cum from oozing into his trousers, making stains for all to see. 

As soon as he turned and sat down, the girls were on him.  Breasts smothered his face and head.  Breasts pressed against his arms.  Breasts rubbed up and down his legs as more breasts fed his mouth and ears with lengthened nipples.  Breasts spread his knees apart.  Breasts began to rub themselves over his cock and he thought he’d died and gone to heaven.  Soon he would come as angels sang …

“Will you sit yourself down so we can get going?  I don’t have all day,” the bus driver roared.

“Sit the fuck down,” yelled the school bully.

Paulie took one look at the snake tattoo crawling out from bully boy’s sleeve and immediately sat in the first available seat.

“What a bunch of fucking Goopses,” the girl in the seat beside him said.  “My name’s Mercedes.  What’s yours?”

“Explain a Goopse to me and I’ll tell you,” Paulie replied.

“A Goopse is a person of limited intellectual means who insists on trying to think.  The exercise usually turns physical when the Goopse realizes that the mush that passes for his brains is like totally non-functioning.  By the way, you handled the Goopse perfectly.  You ignored him.”

Paulie looked at Mercedes.  Her eyes were liquid brown and her sharp features were accentuated by a mop of dark curls that crowded her face before cascading over her shoulders and down her back.  Paulie thought she was the wildest and most beautiful girl he’d seen in a long time.  “My name’s Paulie,” he said.

Mercedes stared at Paulie for a long time.  “No fucking way,” she said.  “The hair’s different, but if you deep-sixed the glasses, you’d look just like that guy writer my mom was researching last night.  Apparently this young kid, like our age, has written a best seller that my mom calls an instant angst classic.  He‘s appearing on the Lady O Show today and it‘s a big deal ‘cause nobody knows who he really is.  Honestly, if we could find him and kill him, you could appear in his place and become rich and famous.”

“You’re one crazy girl,“ Paulie said.  “Is your mom an editor or something?”

“No, she’s a researcher on The Lady O Show.”

“And what about you?  I haven’t noticed you before.  What classes are you taking?”

“Actually, we just moved here for my mom’s job.  I’ll be in the graduating class next year.  I’m just here today to fill out some forms.  What about you?”

“Last day, or rather, half-day of my high school career.  And I can’t say I’m sorry.”

“O lucky, lucky you.  You’re going to graduate and waltz out of here and leave me with these Goopses.  Shame on you,” she said, laughing.

Paulie smiled, as he noticed the perky, perfect tits enhancing her purple turtle neck.  He also noticed the outline of perfectly toned muscles under her jeans.   “Are you a dancer?  Or gymnast?  You’re in excellent shape.”

“Dancer,” she said.  “And you get many points for being so observant.”

“You two going to a geek’s convention?”  The Goopse had commandeered the seat behind them and was leaning menacingly over their shoulders.

Mercedes started to speak, but Paulie placed his hand on her arm protectively.   In that moment, he realized that, for the first time, he was just a little in love. And that gave him great courage.

“It seems like you’re spoiling for some kind of a showdown,” Paulie said in his most menacing tone.  “And if that’s what you want, you’ll have it.  Bring your pals, bring your girlfriends, bring your dog, if you like.  Just meet me in front of the school at noon and we’ll see who the best man really is.”

“You’re one dead geek!” the Goopse sneered.

“Have you lost your fucking mind?” Mercedes eyes were wide with panic.  “Those guys are Neanderthals.  They have fists for tools and no minds to tell them not to kill.  What are you thinking?”

“First, you say ‘fuck’ too much.  And second, this is not your fight.”

“It is our fight.  Do you think I’m going to let you walk into Armageddon alone?  You’ll have at least one skinny girl dancer to help defend your honour!”

Paulie looked at Mercedes for a long, long time.  “Where have you been all my life?”

“I don’t know,” Mercedes answered.  “How old are you?”

They both laughed.

“What are you idiots laughing at,” the Goopse snorted.

“You wouldn’t understand,” Mercedes said.

“See you at High Noon,” Paulie said, and indicating the tattoo, added, “and shall I call you Snake?” 

A burst of laughter erupted from the kids and Paulie felt happier and more himself than he had in all his life.

“We’re here,” the bus driver barked.  “Have a safe day!”

Paulie stayed close to Mercedes until they were safely outside.  He now firmly believed in love at first sight and was protecting the woman he loved.  He checked his watch.  9:55 AM. 

“My class doesn’t start until 10:45.  Why don’t I walk you to the office and then you can sit in on my English class?  Interested?”

“I’m interested.  And how convenient it is that we can then go straight to the O. K. Corral and Probable Death.”

They walked quietly into the building and down the long corridor to the main office.  Paulie happily waited while Mercedes registered.  He had no sense of place or time.  His mind was saturated with Mercedes and her long legs, tight torso and perfect breasts.  He replayed every moment since he’d sat in the bus beside her, loving her mind and her humour, loving that she was prepared to stand with him against the Goopses.  But she wouldn’t have to do that.  He had other weapons at his disposal.

Paulie made sure that nobody was too close when he opened his back pack and pulled out a book.  He ran his fingers over the slightly raised graphics on the dust jacket:  Awake, But Dreaming.  He turned it over and stared down at himself.  Gone were the nerdy coke-bottles he’d chosen so carefully to hide behind.  In their place were contacts, tinted to give his grey eyes a dreamy bluish tinge.  His blonde hair had been styled for the shoot to accentuate his classic cheekbones and full lips.  He reminded himself of a young Paul Newman.  He didn’t know that side of his personality yet, but he would soon.  He read below his picture: Awake, But Dreaming, the first novel for its eighteen year old author, is as beautiful, erotic and intelligent as its motifs.  Rolls Royce has brought all the glory, feeling and angst of our childhood memories back to life.  For that we must be truly grateful - Roger T. Morris.  Paulie was a huge fan of Roger T. Morris’ novels and he had reviewed his book!  It was all so surreal.  So disorienting. He needed to confide in someone.  And he knew who. 

He put his book back in his bag just before Mercedes popped back in the room.  They still had time before class, so Paulie took her for a walk.  They sat on a bench and he pulled out his book and gave it to her, but not before scrawling his autograph across the title page: 

Paulie Palmer, Awake, But Dreaming

For Mercedes, with all my love.

“Am I the first to know?” Mercedes asked.

“Yes,” Paulie said.

Mercedes took his face in her hands and kissed him so softly and sweetly that tears washed both their eyes clean of years of pain and loneliness.  They held hands and talked until it was Goopse time and they walked together to the appointed place, in front of the school.  Mercedes still clung to his hand, her eyes glistening with pride and adoration.

Soon the Goopses gathered round and began to chant, “Fight!  Fight!  Fight!”  

Right on cue, a stretch limousine pulled up in front and a four man security team leaped out and encircled them.  “Are you ready, Mr. Palmer?” one giant asked.  Security The Lady O Show was emblazoned in gold and red on the back of his cool, cool leather jacket.

Paulie put his arm around Mercedes.  “She’s coming with us,” he said.  Then he spoke to the crowd, his voice strong, his tone challenging, “Stay in school.  Work hard.  And maybe someday, this too will be yours.  This is my battle won.”

They were hustled into the limo amid cheers and catcalls and the frenzied adulation that only teens can serve up.  Paulie settled into the comfy seat and closed his eyes … 

Paulie Palmer, waiting in the wings, listened to the glowing introduction that Lady O was lavishing on him.  His legs were almost too shaky to carry him, but Lady O was waiting, arms spread in welcome.  She enfolded him in her arms like a nurturing earth mother and  melted away his fears.  He felt safe.  He was ready to talk.  And her breasts were the stuff dreams are made of.