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Subject: Title story: "Seasons- Hazy Shade of Winter" Author: Hawkeye 126642081
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Date: Tue, 01 Jan 2008 00:50:23 +0000
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Seasons- Hazy Shade of Winter
It's been 18 months since I've seen her now. I may very well never see her
again, so I feel it's appropriate that I get my thoughts and memories of her in
order. Who knows, maybe it will help...
She first flipped her way into my life 6 years ago. Yes, flipped. I spotted her
in the meal line at Hudson, about 10 feet in front of me. She was just a little
thing, maybe 5' 1" or 2", with platinum colored hair, cropped at the shoulders.
God, she was cute. Anyway, her hair had this way of falling across her face
whenever she leaned forward to put something on her tray. She kept flipping it
out of her way, with a little toss of her head. Unreal.
So there I was, staring at her, dizzily thrilled at watching her hair swing, and
I smashed my tray into the woman in front of me. It was spectacular. I sent a
cascade of porcelain and glass onto the tiled floor. I was lucky--only about
half the lunchroom looked up at me, to see what idiot was responsible. I put on
my best sheepish grin, and tried to get my ears to stop glowing red. I didn't
see whether she looked at me or not.
So, that was the first time I saw her.
+++
Almost a month after that, I signed up for the "movie crew", a sort of
entertainment committee for the dorms. It wasn't just movies, in fact it was
mostly parties and bands and all kinds of ("socially stimulating", read the
charter) activities, which we had a sizable budget for.
So, as if you couldn't guess--the new guy gets the shit jobs. I ended up
cleaning up after a loud, riotous party that shook the building's foundations
until 2 am. I really had all day Sunday to do it, but I was still wide awake and
nursing a ringing in my ears that would keep me up for hours, so I figured I'd
get a head start on it.
Anyway, I was picking up the "No Underaged Drinking" notices that had been
torn down and stamped into the beery mud on the floor, when I heard the front
door slam.
Nobody was supposed to be let into "Ground Zero" after the party. Except me, Joe
Cleanup, because I had the keys. But since this was my first mission, I'd made a
rookie error, and left the front door unlocked. I just prayed it wasn't drunken
partiers, come to scrounge the last beer. I'd be here all night. As it got
closer, I could tell it was just one set of footsteps. Good. I could deal with
that. Hopefully.
As my midnight prowler rounded the corner, I shouted, "Hey, you're--". It was a
pretty good start, I thought. But I came up short on the rest of it. Choke. I'd
never be the big game player. It was -her-, and I couldn't finish my sentence,
because her hair was doing that bounce thing again. Oh, god.
"Hey, you're--", she mimicked cheerfully. And gave me an elfin grin. So, I knew
this was the time for me to get a hold of myself, say something engaging, and
show her how fascinating, mature, and confident I was. Yeah.
"Well... you're not supposed to be in here. It's after hours." Oh, that was
good. Throw her out quick, before she clues in that she's alone in a half-dark
room with a moron.
"Oh. Do you want me to leave?" She stuck out her lower lip, in a cute spoof of a
little girl pout. Did I say that I choked before? I didn't know the meaning of
the word. I almost swallowed my own tongue this time.
"No!" I got that part out, well enough. Maybe I was improving. "No--I just...
uh. Hmm. Why are you here?" No, I obviously wasn't improving.
"Well, you *are* Sam, right?" Without waiting for me to somehow screw up saying
"yes", she added "I'm Lisa Bradley. I'm supposed to help you clean up."
Oh, no way. Things like that just don't happen. But they did that time. I found
out, as I went about the most delightful evening of mopping rancid beer that I
ever hope to experience, that she had joined the "movie crew" several months
ago, but hadn't been active in it because of "other" time commitments. So, she
was just now starting out at the same newbie level as myself.
We had a great time slopping around and making inane jokes. She had a pixie
sense of humor, and an easy way about her that actually made me feel
comfortable, despite my ongoing awareness that she was very, very attractive.
I watched her all night as we cleaned up... the way her breasts moved under
the cotton blouse she was wearing. The way her jeans stretched nicely around
her bottom when she bent over to pick something up. The way her hair bounced
as she walked.
She was the cutest little package you could ever imagine. She must have weighed
only 110 or 120 lb, and she came up to about my chin. Her breasts would have
seemed small, and her hips narrow if she had been a tall woman--but on her
frame, they made her look well-endowed. I couldn't take my eyes off her not to
say that I really tried.
I went to bed that night, dreaming about how her platinum hair bounced around as
she moved. And how she had to keep shaking her head to flip it out of her face.
I had that little flip memorized ...
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