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A man is turned down on a date

Submitted:Dec 19, 2009    Reads: 86    Comments: 0    Likes: 0   

Steven Hunley
When Harvey let him unbutton her top button he was certain she was going to give it up.At that point she was certain too.All the elements were there.They were alone. It was warm, dark, and comfortable where they were at. The parking brake was set.Although it was only their first date, they were both more than ready.
They'd been flirting for weeks in class.He'd finally asked her out.They'd seen a movie and been to dinner.Now, parked in the comforting concealment ofdarkness whichher face hadbeen seeking since puberty, it was time for desert.
He'd been taking his time.
"Perhaps he's shy," she thought. She liked that.
He's been working his way down from behind her ear with a trail of warm kisses, and now nearing her neck where it met her shoulder.He paused a bit, inhaling the perfume she'd placed there.He liked the way it didn't just smell like perfume.I'd smelled like her and the perfume, an exotic proprietarymix worn byno other woman.
"It's a wonder how women are," he thought.
This hesitation made her inhale as well, swelling her breasts, making them tug against the constraint of both buttons and blouse.
That's when he moved down to the second button.
But then she grasped his fingers by their tips and pressed them to her lips.
"I just can't do this Steevie-weevie," she said softly, "not now."
He was astounded.
"Why not?"
"'Cause tomorrow I'm going with Tony to Mexico."
"Tony, that idiot with the motor bike?"
She nodded.
"But why him?Why not me?"
She dropped his hand then placed two of her fingers against his mouth to silence him.She looked directly into his eyes.
"Because," she said, looking down as if she were in pain, "Tomorrow he'll still be here.You won't."
He was speechless. Not because he was dumfounded you understand, but because he had nothing to say.It was perfectly true.
On Monday when he walked into class she wasn't there.
"Where's Harvey?" he said to a girl who sat in front and was staring at her empty desk.
"Oh, the pimple-faced girl? Haven't you heard?She's dead.A drunk driver hit her in Tijuana. She was on a motorbike, Tony too.It knocked them fifty feet."
He never went to the funeral.He figured he'd paid his last respects back there when he'd stopped at the second button.And though it seemed the whole school appeared shook up by her death,they were shamming. Only he had looked into her eyes. Only he would regret it.


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