The Crush - written from the dream

“I am not participating in that.” I said eyes wide at the suggestion.

“Fine suit yourself, but you better hide anyway, he’ll be here soon.” Melody and Angelica moved to hide, giggling in Angelica’s sister’s closet.

They were really going to do it, and Rachael was letting them. It boggled my mind. The sex lesson was really for Melody anyway. I slipped into Melody’s closet. When I found the right guy sex would happen, not sooner, not later. I didn’t feel the need to have a lesson in it by watching Rachael and her boyfriend Michael going at it.

The door bell rang and I heard Rachael come flying out of her room. It sounded like she slid down the railing, calling out “Coming,” suggestively. Ug, I shuddered. I heard the two come smooching and laughing up the stairs. She was already talking dirty to him. It hurt my ears.

No, I’m not adverse to sex, or anything like that, but sex isn’t supposed to be the public thing they make it out to be. Affection can be displayed without throwing sexual connotation in there. A kiss doesn’t always have to be French. Nor do you have to flaunt who you’re doing in everyone’s face. That’s where Angelica and Melody and I have our differences. I’m surprised they’ve let me hang out with them for this long. Frankly, I’m about ready to cut myself loose.

As soon as the loud moaning starts I make my escape; down the stairs and out of the house. Quietly I close the front door and look around. Strangely it looks like the car Michael arrived in has a passenger. That’s odd, I shrug. Rachael and Michael are pros even when it’s a simple booty call. They’re famous for making it last hours. I take a deep breath. It really is a beautiful autumn afternoon. It is definitely too beautiful to spend inside watching those two go at it.

I smile as if I’ve just escape prison and jump over the three steps. I walk around the house. Angelica’s dad hasn’t raked the yard in a while. I shuffle my feet in the leaves, smiling as they rustle and crunch. We’re out in suburbia here, so there are no woods to walk in like there are by my house. Still, around back is an old swing set. They haven’t used it in years, but their dad refuses to take it down. I am glad, because I like swings.

Gingerly I sit on the cool black plastic. There is no squeak. Their dad must have oiled it. I wonder if someone actually uses the thing still. Neither Rachael nor Angelica would mention it if they did; unless it was related to some sexual escapade.

I swing gently, closing my eyes and letting the motion take over my body. It is calming and relaxing. My mind wanders as its thoughts touch upon many things; the school work that’s due on Monday, the track meet tomorrow, the guy I have a crush on but won’t admit to anyone.

The End

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