"Crush Music"
19-Nov-98 13:21:18

Sparky's Note:

The idea of this story came to mind when I was reading a post by a crush enthusiast asking about "surreptitious crushing", that is, setting up something to be crushed without the female crusher being aware that she is crushing something; e.g. putting something under a carpet or mat, wait for "a" or "the" voluptuous lady person type girl to trod on it, and then recover the resultant crushed object. What does one do with the crushed object afterward? Who knows? For all I know, he puts it on the floor, kneels before it with his body erect and his arms and hands pointing straight up. He then bends his whole body down until his hands touches the floor next to the crushed object and chants, "O-mani-pod-me-ahm; O-mani-pod-me-ahm; O-mani-pod-me-ahm ..." while raising up and then down again with each chant - or - he just simply tosses off.

I have had ideations of rigging props that will enable me to be stepped on by girls covertly since grade school. Some were quite ingenious! My technology that I utilized for covert object crushing, however, was cycling around the bull pen of my mind; not surfacing to consciousness. When I was responding to M's post where he was taking a survey about whether our crush fetish is a life dominating thing or whether it is just an outside diversion, the story hit me.

Just as you can't show a Cajun a plate of food or a field of rice without his mind automatically calculating right down to the teaspoon how much gravy it would take to cover it, I can't look at a woman walking; sporting a really neat pair of shoes without wondering what would go good under them!

I'm quite sure many of the people in the crush community share my sentiment. It would be interesting to see the result of M's poll when more people respond to it.

Here is one of my experiences with surreptitious object crushing: I call it "Crush Music".

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"Crush Music"

I was in the seventh grade when the "mod scene" hit the States in the late sixties. The Beach boys haven't written "Good Vibrations" yet. The Doors, Cream, the "wa-wah" pedal, B-3's with Leslies and "Laugh-In" haven't entered the scene. "Where the Action Is" and "Hullabaloo" supplanted "American Bandstand" as to what was "in" to watch.

I fell in love with the outfits the girls in school were wearing as a result of the Mod look spillover from the British hip scene; the skirts and dresses, the hats, - and the shoes; oh yes, the shoes!

I played the cornet in the band and even though I was a seventh grader, I was good enough to make the eighth grade band. That is where I made the transition from playing stuff out of books to using sheet music. We were issued several pieces of sheet music to play and were given these folios to keep it in.

In the back stage area, there were cubby holes where we would stash our instruments and folios. We would take our instruments out of the case, grab our folios, take our seat, and warm up. I was first chair, second cornet and there was a gap between me and the last chair, first cornet. People who sat in front of our section who came in later would pass through this gap.

There were always a few girls in the flute and clarinet sections who would run a little late. They would get their stuff and pass by me and work their way forward to their seat.

One fateful day, (When have I said that before?) this one chick in particular was late. She got her flute and folio and came past me to go to her seat. Meanwhile, the tenor sax player in front of me took out his music we were going to play and laid his folio on the floor beside his chair in the gap between the tenor and alto sax section. She passed by me and as she went by the sax section, she stepped right on the folio wearing the neatest shoes hitherto unknown to the civilized world and destined to replace the mudflap in your mythology.

The sax player didn't notice her, but when I saw her step on that folio, I got a shiver! (When have I said that before, too?) It was no helter-skelter hit or miss, she stepped right on that puppy!

Needless to say, wheels started whirling in my head like what happened in the fourth grade when I invented the word "tepede" (tah-PEE-dee), which is the name of the shape of the state of Texas. (It looked like a tepede to me. It would qualify as an onomatopoeia; the word sounded just like the shape.)

Here's what I did: I got some Silly Putty and made little balls out of them. I took a manila folder and arranged the balls in an array, inserted a sheet of wax paper, closed the flap on them and put it in my folio. Whenever one the girls would be late, and I would see her assemble her instrument, I would place the folio on the floor next to me hoping she would walk by and step on it. I would later open it up and inspect the "damage".

Finally the day came. The same girl that I saw step on the folio when she went past the sax section was late. As she assembled her flute, I laid my folio on the floor. I sat there all confident and ready for her to pass by so I can see first-hand of what the result will be when an object happens to come between those gorgeous shoes and the floor.

"Here she comes." I thought to myself trying to suppress any outward signs of my giddiness and excitement. To my own consternation, she walked right behind me and in front of the tubas and passed between the second and third cornets instead!

My excitement turned into disappointment as a result of this vastly vicarious vicissitude of fortune until I remembered something in science class having something to do with "the path of least resistance".

I noticed that the gap was closed a bit between the alto and the tenor saxes thus forcing her to take another path. All I had to do was a simple rearranging of the chairs in order to place this law of fluid dynamics in my favor. (It reminded me of a game of Stadium Checkers, but played with people and chairs instead of slotted rings and marbles.)

It didn't take long for another flute player running late to emerge. As she assembled her instrument, I slipped my folio with the Silly Putty balls inside on the floor. When she walked by me, I greeted her very suavity and gentlemanly. She paused to return the greeting smiling warmly and giddily and then reached out with her hand and quickly tickled the back of my neck with her fingernails before moving on. While engaged in that little pause, she was standing on my folio! (I got a double shiver with that one.) That little tickle she gave me on the back of my neck gave me a body rush beyond measure!

After school, I took my folio and horn home with me. I was going to take just the folio, but I thought I better take my horn as well in order to "look good". I didn't want to attract any unnecessary attention. It was not unlike asking for papers at the 7-11 and then asking for Bull Durham-in-a-pouch in order to dispel notions from others as to what was going to be done with the papers. Those who were hip knew anyway, but - it "looked good".

I just didn't feel like answering a bunch of stupid questions to some dunderhead when he comments about me taking my music home without my horn. I'm sure that if I said, "Well, see, I put a manila folder in my folio with these little balls of Silly Putty arranged in a matrix inside. I then surreptitiously got this chick to step on it with her shoes and now I'm taking it home so that I can see the "squish pattern" resulting from a most synergetic combination of a most groovy shoe and a most beautiful hundred and five pounds wearing them.", I would get a look. It would be a look as if I went totally appetite over tin cup!

When you were twelve going on thirteen in a small Texas town in those days, there was some unwritten code that you had to act "mature". Whether you were really mature or not was beside the point. This unwritten code consisted of a bunch of these "now, I'm supposed too" behavioral standards. Any deviation from these standards and you were ostracized before all of your peers. Those who enforced this code in order to prop-up their own importance by exposing and flaming "violators" would later grow up to be politicians, prosecutors, social workers, investigative journalists, and witch hunters. I wasn't about to be fodder for their neurosis and I was unwilling to have it be known that I like to have chicks step on my music folio so that I can get off to looking at the squish pattern! Buying papers without the Bull Durham-in-a-pouch was more acceptable. At least you were considered "bad", not weird.

I got home and once in my room, I removed the manila folder and opened it. I carefully peeled away the wax paper (It kept the silly putty from sticking to both sides.) and lo and behold: the squish pattern! To me it was the Holy Grail! All of the balls were flattened to some extent, but where her heel and sole were, the putty was as thin as hammered gold. On the edges of her heel and sole some of the putty oozed out and was thicker delineating the outline. There was one place along the right edge of her heel where the putty oozed away completely leaving a gap. That is where she cocked her heel over to the side while standing on my folio as she paused to tickle my neck. I picked up the folio, closed it and I could see a crease on the cover where she cocked her heel. Oh, I was in a state of grace!

I started putting other things in the folder: grubs, worms, caterpillars, wasps and grasshoppers sandwiched between a sheet of wax paper and a page of typing paper. I didn't want something that would crunch too loud otherwise it would give up my secret. Grasshoppers were about as bold as I got. I didn't want them to wander off either, so I got a jar and some cotton balls and borrowed some carbon tet (carbon tetrachloride) from the science teacher. That's how butterfly collectors kill their specimens for mounting. I would mount my "specimens" on the typing paper using a daub of rubber cement, lay the wax paper over it, close the folder, and insert it into my folio behind the music and next to the front cover.

I withheld myself from doing it too often. If one of the girls coming in late wore shoes that were kind of ugly, or if she had a severe appearance deficit, or wore the same shoes over and over, I wouldn't lay down the folio. When one of the cuties gets a new pair of shoes, she gets the folio!

The body fluid stains on the paper coming from the squished specimens made interesting patterns. You can almost evaluate personality traits by having peopleinterpret the patterns. If they say, "That's a sole, that's a heel.", they're sane. If they say, " It is a cascading waterfall being obscured by evaporating mist on its way down just before it becomes a turbulent fury of rolling eddies and billowing bubbles at the end of its graceful freefall ...", they're freaking' nuts!

There was some Swiss shrink fellow back in the early 1900s' named, what is it? Roarshack? Roshak? Oh, yeah, Rorschach who did just that. I wonder if this is how he invented it.

Sparky ---