Thursday, 28 July 2011
'Visions Of The Past'
by Sandrine Lopez
They tore down part of my life. A whole chunk of my history.
25 isn't that old. It's OAPs, grannies, grumpy old gits, who moan about what no longer exists. Forests replaced by towns and cities. Fields lost to buildings, motorways.
I never thought these would also be destroyed like countryside, stripped away.
Driving to my beautician, I never used to notice my school. Always part of the landscape.
Then someone killed it. Like the twisted guts of classrooms I once sat in, now spilled open in architectural gore, my stomach turned. One whole exterior wall savaged away, a gaping mortal wound of demolition.
I felt violated, in shock. Town planning murder under a sunny blue sky. Sky I could now see clean through it.
I chat with Sanjula but being newer to town, the school means nothing. Watch her strip off my leg fuzz, wondering what greenery was exfoliated, before it was built. She uses talc to ease the pain as hairs are torn away. The laceration in my life lacks that buffer.
I drive by the school again. There is no samaritan, no doctor, to help.
Its time is past. Like dinosaurs, neanderthals, the dodo. Strange new extinction. And an attempt at preservation.
My new digicam seems unlimited after the 35mm SLR Dad once gave me. Over 700 photos compared to 36 max - no competition. New replaces old. I suddenly feel guilty. We all do it. Life uses and discards.
I stand by the dead school. All the children have long since bled out of it. The nervous system of teachers and admin transplanted elsewhere. I take pics of its rib-cage girders, the bones of its columns, the sightless stare of what was reception.
I want to be closer before this is lost forever. A gap in the low-voltage fencing I could squeeze through. A lazy summer Saturday mid-morning. I shouldn't be seen. Ignore the danger signs forbidding entry. Get tingling shocks from the wires.
Scrambling, crunching, over scattered bricks I step right inside, hanging reinforced concrete silhouetted against the sun. It's scary, stomach-churning, to stand where I once learned, now a hollow stiff. I remember the sounds, calling of register... Ramona Rodriguez? Here, sir... the smells... girls' perfumes and boys' sweat... her friends, peroxide hair and shortened hems because guys like leggy blondes... The school lives again briefly.
Silence echoes in the emptiness. Except for a noise, the crunch of boots on rubble.
"You really shouldn't be here, miss." A man's voice. I turn.
There's something familiar... it's been years and he's filled out. No longer the skinny teen but a well-built, better defined, man now.
"Moanie?" he uses my old nick.
"Natter?" An I-D clipped to his navy sweatered chest gives his proper name and job - Nathaniel Wallis, Security.
It would be him. Ex-school boyfriend. Lover. Not just any but the first. The one who demolished my virginity.
There's that awkwardness you have with exs, guys who haven't only seen you naked but been inside you, beyond intimate. A tingle of frisson deep down, a candle still burning. A trickle on my thigh. Perhaps summer perspiration, or maybe an echo of memories.
Grip my digicam uneasily, as snapshots of starter sex surface from my subconscious. Frighteningly naive fumblings, that inelegant playground between sex education and supposed experience. Boys boast and girls gossip.
You'd either done it, or hadn't.
Snapshots: Spring '03
I've been study-buddied with Nathaniel Wallis to help my sciences. He's weak on English. What a geek...
First study period. He doesn't say a lot. If you can't think the words, how can you write them? But he's good on science. I may just pass...
Been twirling my hair when studying. Noticed how grey Nat's eyes are. He's not bad for a boy actually...
"I... I..." Caught like a naughty schoolgirl. "The school'll be gone soon.... I wanted to make sure..."
"Yes." Nat doesn't say much. Still has deep grey eyes. "I'll escort you out, Moanie. But won't report the trespass."
"Thanks." I smile.
"Will you..." He's awkward, "Miss this place?"
A shrug. "Some of it." We pass the remains of the main hall.
Snapshots: Summer '03
Saw Nat as we queued for exams by hall. I showed him crossed fingers, he gave me a big thumbs up. We did good I think...
Nat asked me out. Well, go to seaside for the day. We held hands & kissed. Think he's my <3 boyf now...
I call him Natter, because he doesn't. He dubs me Moanie, because I am.
I PASSED!!! :-D Collecting results with Natter and gave him big snog. He failed English. Feel like I let him down. 'Words don't matter.' he said. That actually says a whole lot
He leads me out a different way. I'm not sure it's deliberate but past the bike sheds. He looks at them, me, then away.
Snapshots: Summer '03
End of year results school party with Nat. Both 18 and adults now. Got very pissed & giggly. As I wobbled round dance floor he steadied me & whispered 'Let's do it now... ' Took me outside to bike sheds under summer moon. Hot dizziness for Nat. Or maybe it's the alcopops.
Always thought first time would be romantic & lovey-dovey. In bed with flowers. Think Nat's done this before, he knew what to do. I thought I did but...
I passed biology because of Natter. He musta paid more atten to sex ed. I just went 'eewww'. Gross! More gross than that frog we dissected. Thought I was gonna be sick...
He does know words. Tender ones to ease my pain because it hurts at first. 'Do we have to... ?' I asked, as he lifted me up on bike railings, pulled my panties down, and eased my legs apart. He snogged me meaningfully. That's a yes then?
It's weird having a guy inside you. Feelings, twitches, movements, which aren't yours but gradually are. When Nat came it was like he made part of himself into me. Still wondering if I came or not. Girlfriends say you know when you do because it's like nothing else ever. So very intense even if I didn't.
Mum & Dad rarely swore so I never did but fuck! Ohmygod... fuck! Can see why people say it now. It's the most extremes word for the most profound feelings. Like being electrified. Every little hair on my skin being pulled. Hugging, kissing, tightly as we grind on each other. Sneezing inside... an irritating itch then suddenly, satisfyingly, letting go. Sweet soreness after.
I think I'm sure I did...
Nat opens the security gate for me. "Still live just over the road. That's how I saw you. Handy for this job, 'til school's gone..."
I frown at the reminder.
"Fancy a cuppa?" he asks.
Snapshots: Autumn '03
Natters licked me and I went down on him. Words don't matter when you use tongues like that.
Mum found my diary. My private thoughts about Natters trespassed. She hugged me & cried. I cried too. I'm not a little girl any more.
Dad is angry. Grounded me for a month. Confiscated my mobile, & keys except when going to work.
I'm not a fucking little girl! Mum & Dad shocked. I'm a fucking woman! They know. Words matter. Two months.
I try & see Nat whenever. Call him from work. Miss Rodriguez, the phone is not for personal use! Verbal warning. Words matter.
Snatched 1 til 2pm shags with Nat. Packed lunches at first, then shorter infrequent snacking. Just as I was getting good at it.
Theory of sex education. Practical application. Those textbook words now matter, make sense. It all fits. Grade B+. Loving my wetness. Squeezing on Nat's dick when he's inside. Liking his weird oozy taste.
Grounding ends December. We'll be together for Xmas.
I peer through the lounge window of Nat's place while he makes tea. His parents are away.
A mug is plonked on the table. "You can see more upstairs." He says.
Nat is right. The view is better. Where we stood, the open classroom. I aim my digicam and shoot.
Snapshots: Winter '03
I see Nat at long last but he says he's seeing someone else now. Me dissected frog-like. Heart torn out. I love you, Nat...
Cry myself to sleep each night. Want to die...
Parents ask what I'd like for Xmas. What I want they can't give.
Nat's hand on my shoulder. Whispers in my ear.
Ignore the danger signs forbidding entry.
We suddenly grapple at each other's clothing. Tear them open like the side of the school. Expose our skin to the hot air in his bedroom. An old summer night again, newly confined in walled daylight.
No more naive fumblings. We'd done it many times since. There's a breathless naked moment, facing each other, silence only broken by our panting.
Words don't matter.
Walls come tumbling down.
Our flesh collides, he slams his body against mine as if to demolish it. My nails excavate at his back so hard I might be drawing blood.
Wall of his room shudders as he lifts me up, knees draped over elbows, and grind my muff while I'm rammed against it. As he opens me up, the inner walls of my wet cunt tremble too but don't give way, just yet.
I can't help but think of school. How it brought us together twice. Lessons learned there.
Like the dead building, my time with Nat is past. I consider this, several years late, as getting him out of my system. I don't feel for him anymore, but I have needs.
And he was always good at biology.
Security minded pro now, he does a complete search of my every limb, each nerve, on his bed now. Lips on my skin. Tongue between my lips, toes, thighs, against my swollen sensitive clit. His fingers stroke my hair, massage my stomach, claw at me, gripping and spreading... then his cock slips into my gaping openness again.
My body feels taken apart, deconstructed, by the fearlessness of his fucking. Intense then, extreme now. My teen years are past, budding maturity replaced by the fullness of womanhood.
He still feels weird inside but bigger, more experienced. Bold feelings, wild twitches, confident movements. When he comes, I do for certain this time. If a building could scream when it's demolished, that's what I sound like. Loud, deep, crushed. Inner walls give way.
Attishoo, attishoo, all fall down!
I was useless at French but know la petite mort. Only, not so small. Death by dirtiness. Dirtier than muddy grass stains on a girl's playful knees.
But no longer as green.
Nat's parents are back a week Monday. I don't want him to know where I live now but take the Friday before off so we can be together again in his bed. I never did throw sickies, even at school. I was a good girl. Once.
I consider the end of school epitomised Nat dropping me. Its destruction is a new start.
We fuck each other silly, as across the road the heavy machines finally tear it down. I don't want to watch but the satisfying sounds of its passing mix with my own, as Nat teaches me more about biology.
Adult education. Sex: advanced theory & practical. New positions. Creativity welcome.
The sounds, wet sucking, slapping of Nat's cock inside... my moans of pleasure... the smells, scent of sweat, and the sharpness of his cum stirring my wetness... the sights, his face against mine, then above me, below me, as we build new structures with our entwined bodies...
Study buddies no more. Fuck buddies... perhaps.
I take some pictures of his exhausted, naked, sleeping body on the bed. Review them later, like the photos of school, then delete them all.
Use and discard.
I'm past caring.
Fuck Me Friday: Smut for the Weekend by Aisling Weaver