Her

With Help From Him

by Leila Pakawongse

They call me a smooth operator. Go ahead, laugh. Then laugh some more. But I’m serious. I get girls to do things their fathers would kill me for. I’ve got stories that would last hours in front of a camp fire - none appropriate for campers. Let me explain: some people are just good with words; some people are crafty with their hands, some people are meant to work in cubicles while others are meant to live in the wild. I’m meant to have my way with any girl I want. That’s my niche.

I discovered my talent when I entered kindergarten. Oh, there was lovely Olivia. She was this sweet thing that always wore pink. You had to dodge the sun’s rays as the darts reflected off her blonde hair. She was missing a few teeth but made up for it with her bangin’ body. If you were anyone at school, you were after Olivia. All the boys sweat it out, waiting for her to choose her man, but not me. I didn’t care a rat’s head. I sat in the sand box and kicked it with my fellas. Once, I even painted on the garage door that I thought Olivia smelled bad. See? That’s what you’re supposed to do; playing hard to get is overused. This is my own style. I’ll make this short, I got her by the hour after nap time. I’ve got skills.

Then there was the delicate Angelica. Damn, she had quite the look for a fourth grader. Her rich skin reminded me of extra virgin olive oil. Her humor came in a variety like antipasti. The curves of her silhouette had your eyes following the maze from head to toe, and with your imagination running amuck. She had her own jokes, and they were funny - she used to compete with me, but I showed her who’s boss. Her hair was always wound up like spaghetti around a fork, and now that I think about it, I was always hungry when I saw her. But that girl had the best lunches, that’s what I dug about her. That girl had it all.

Ah and who could forget Bridget. That red-headed fiery Irish girlie. She liked to move it. The way she moved made me want to wag my tail in excitement, almost in resemblance to my wiener dog. I liked to move it with her. Body was above par, and that’s saying something for our eighth grade class. I swear, she could bend her body like the number six, or the number nine. I most definitely showed her off. She was good arm candy, if ya dig what I’m saying. I vaguely remember that her left eye was a wandering one. But I always had both my eyes focused on her so it worked out for the both of us. Now that I think about it, that might have been a serious relationship, three weeks strong. Oh wait, no, two weeks. Best two weeks of Junior High, Baby!

But of all the girls, and there were many, I guess my most prized girl wasn’t Olivia or Angelica, or even the lovely Bridget. It was Her.

I was out on the prowl to mark some new territory, some new landmark to go and see, some new restaurant to try out, some new girl to occupy my thoughts. God, high school was getting dull. That’s when it hit me, high school was dull because everything was too easy. I had cast my line on the girls I knew would bite, where as I needed to jump into the ocean, not the local swimming pool.

So this, is a story about Her.

We had spent the majority of our childhood strictly avoiding each other and with good reason. She was too smart, too driven, too everything that wasn’t sexy. And there I was, the main man of the hallways, the guy you give high fives and yell out his name hoping he’d remember yours. You know who I’m talking about? And I was probably a sleeze ball in her Asian eyes. She had a dope body, just enough umpf to get me going, but not enough to really get me going. If she’d wear a hot little denim skirt with heels, instead of a sweater and jeans everyday then maybe she could really really get me going. Her hair was black, but spotting her in the crowd was like looking at those ‘Where’s Waldo’ books. You don’t know what’s special about him, but you could always find him amongst the mass of people. She was my Waldo.

We had worked on a few projects together when paired up forcefully, but work was a loose term, she had done everything. Working with her was the same as watching a cooking show. The elegant smile always present while the chef dished out appetizers such as pomegranate and pear salad with a bed of prosciutto underneath topped with a cider vinaigrette, or duck confit ravioli with a brown butter ragout and shaved parmesan reggiano. For the main course, grass fed lamb loin with garbanzo samosa, mint chutney, broccolini and garam masala. Wrapping up, a ‘simple’ German chocolate fudge cake with a tangerine caramel sauce paired with rich amaretto ice cream. Perfect. Then there was everyone else’s sad attempt, with the arugula leaves unwashed, duck undercooked, and how do you make ravioli without Chef Boyardee? Don’t get me started on the lamb, it’s a waste of your time, and dessert, if you didn’t know already, comes from a carton.

She was the Martha Stewart of everything and no one could compare.

We’d work in the library only because if you tried to come within spitting distance of her front gate, her maniac of a father might come at you with a gun… females, on the other hand, were permitted. We had become friends during the long hours in the library, but our eyes never met in the hallways. She was aware, more so than me, of what it meant to have a reputation in high school. While I didn’t want anyone to think that I made friends with the school smarty-pants, she didn’t want to be friends with the school roller coaster, the ride every girl went on.

But I always tried to catch her with her pants down, testing some things out.

“Hey, wanna go on a date?”

“Psh.”

Ouch. Rejected and she didn’t even know she was rejecting me. She didn’t take me serious!

“You want to help me study math?”

“Sure, I can help, what math?”

“All we have to do is subtract the clothes, add the bed, divide the legs and multiply.”

“Clever.”

My best lines, shot down.

“On a more serious note, could you help me with that math assignment? I just don‘t get it like you do.”

“Sure.”

She arrived in this gray dress which surprisingly covered up more of her body than I’d ever known any dress to do. She walked to my house. I saw her critique every bit of my mother’s decorations. She circled the living room in a long path looking at every photo I forgot to hide. Her hair was pulled back. She was ready to get down to work as she gently sat down on the chair at the head of the dinner table. I pulled a smaller chair next to her and she cringed slightly.

We worked for an hour. Correction: She worked for an hour. I still didn’t get the math.

She lifted herself up from the chair and grinned in a manner that told me she was satisfied. I wasn’t.

I composed myself and shifted out of the chair.

There’s this moment when you’ve walked into a candy store and you’re craving something. Something, but what? You’ve got the entire selection of delectable goodies to choose from and you’re stuck with a gurgling stomach and a brain that can’t decide. You’re searching for something familiar, and then, like a light bulb over your head, things turn on. That’s it. That’s what you’ve been looking for, craving, wanting, and you’ve finally found it.

In the time that I‘ve known her, she was just another candy bar on the shelf. I didn’t understand the click, I didn’t know why I suddenly wanted to try it, but I did. I reached out, toward the new choice of candy, toward her, and I tried it.

And when I did, I could feel her body tense up. We were both confused, but I was leading the way. She could’ve pulled away, that’s always an option, isn’t it? But she didn’t.

We spent the next half of a month avoiding each other in the hallways. It was as if our relationship, or what sad definition of one we had developed had turned back to our old elementary ways. Hide-n-Seek High School Edition. The only eye contact we made happened when we were asked if being partners was ok. Since that kiss, it wasn’t. My grades started to suffer.

“Hey, could you help me with math?”

“What? No pick-up line?”

“I can be serious, you know”

“Mhm, almost took you serious for a moment”

“Only a moment?”

“Just one”

“So? Help? Yes?”

“No.”

When did being so damn witty become so attractive?

I didn’t want to push it. She wasn’t the girl you pushed around. In fact, she pushed everyone else around. Maybe we were all afraid of her brain. God, she had a big one. But maybe it was that she was so quiet, so off by herself, so god damn mysterious that no one, not even I, the master of women, could figure her out.

The worst part was that she didn’t even care! Here I was, putting an a good bit of energy into a relationship where I wasn’t even getting any action in the bed room. What a rip off.

But I’m not one to quit, even when I’m behind, and with her, she’d lapped me a few time on the track. I thought that, with time, and a little persistence, ok, a lot of persistence, she’d come around and learn to love my smooth ways. Hey, how else would I have gotten the name, smooth operator. Nicknames aren’t just given, they’re made.

“Please, if anything is right in the world you’ll come hang out with me.”

“No.”

“I don’t see this coming to an end, so we should probably settle this over a date sometime.”

“You’re smooth… but really, you’ve got no game.”

“So that’s a yes?”

“So that’s a no.”

“Why? We both know you have a crush on me.”

“I am far too mature for you. And sorry to hurt your poor young soul but I don't have crushes. And none on you.”

She was good.

This girl gave me a look every time I asked her on a date. It was that ‘duh look’ you get when person A says something so obvious that you feel you’ve wasted your time by listening while person B dishes out the ‘wow-that-was-so-obvious-I-just-wasted-my-time-by-listening face.’ It hurts when you get it, I speak from experience. And She was the master of it… but damn did that turn me on. So I endured each look she gave me and attempted again.

“Baby girl, I know we’ve got our differences. I know that you may not like me. But what if I was the ying to your yang? What if each time you said ‘no’ to me, you lost another chance to end up with Mr. Perfect? Are you willing to jeopardize your future?”

“You really want this?”

“Hell, I just want you.” I liked to cut to the chase.

“Fair enough.” Apparently she did too.

“Wait --- so --- that’s ---”

“Yes.”

My proposition. “Dinner? Tomorrow?”

Her proposition. “How about breakfast?”

“Breakfast?”

“Yes.”

“Breakfast sounds good.”

“Ok.”

Cha Ching! It was like shooting fish in a barrel. I knew she’d come around, they always do. I would know, I speak from experience.

I took her to this quaint café that I knew had plenty of booths to choose from. I followed behind her watching her little hips toss from left to right and back again. I could only imagine the possibilities if we were ever alone, in my bed… I tried to guide her into the booth but I ended up in this awkward lean-forward-rock-with-it-stance. I felt like I was trying to catch a frog that kept jumping out of reach. Bonus, my hand swished past her pleasant little booty. Score.

We gazed over the menu in silence. I was left to start and end every topic.

“So, want to tell me something about your family?”

“Not really.”

“That’s cool”

Awkward turtle.

“You like school, huh?”

“It’s good.”

“Cool beans.”

“Mhm.”

I wanted to thank the waitress who stepped in right when I was on the verge of talking about the weather.

“So what will you two be having today?”

I ordered two eggs, scrambled, with pancakes, sausages and home fries. Extra syrup on the side, I like my food drenched in sugar and sticky all over, just like my ladies. Oh, and a glass of orange juice to keep things flowing.

She ordered a glass of milk.

We ate. I mean, I ate, She drank. For only having a glass of milk, she sipped slowly and I didn’t find it as awkward when we weren’t talking.

I drove Her home. Now typically and you should take notes, I leave an impression by doing the whole one-armed hug in the car while allowing the seat belt to restrain my full movement, but something tugged at me to walk her to the door. It’s possible that the tugging occurred in my pants, we just won’t go there. She walked a little faster and I had to do a double skip to catch up. I realize that she didn’t want her father to see her with a boy, but it’d be strange to turn around now.

Seven steps away from the front door she turned to me.

“Thank you for breakfast, it was sufficiently satisfying.”

“I agree. We should do it again some time.”

I cautiously extended my arms to demonstrate that, in a normal society, people would hug. She walked into me and her petite body fit like my middle finger over my index finger. Alright, four seconds later and we peeled apart, she looked up, said, ‘Thank You’ again but still held onto my arms. Now, I was waiting for this little lady to move, but she didn’t. I thought she might make some conversation, might even ask the next time we’d go out, hell, might even tell me that she had the worst time of her life… something! But no, she stood there with something on the tip of tongue that she wasn’t willing to spit out.

So I waited.

Temptation to ask if she was ok was starting to set in, but before I could gather my words, she leapt at me. I tried to catch her, but I failed and she slide down the front side of my body. Not so graceful. But when her feet touched the ground, and she’d taken a breathe, and I’d scratched my head… she kissed me.

BooYaKaSha! But it wasn’t a kiss, this was a toe-twitching, knee-buckling, make out sesh. She was all over me.

Who knew She was such a horn dog.

I walked towards my car, with the accomplishment of getting the ungettable and seven new digits in my contacts.

I joked around with Her on the phone that I thought it was erotic and would turn me on like no other if She snuck into my house. I knew there was no way She’d risk it. Her father would disown her, that’s common knowledge.

“But you know, if you’d ever want to try it, my front door is always unlocked.”

“Cool beans.”

It was also common knowledge that she never turned her back on someone who needed math tutoring or a challenge.

The details of that night I spent with Her will be in my memory for years. The night was crisp and the air chilled the windows. My eyes shut, and my mind began to imagine what I could bring up about her - her smell, her smile, the way she might softly moan into my shoulder, the way my mouth felt pressed against hers, against her neck, against her chest, against her stomach...

God, if only I could fully feel the pleasure of her, her skin on mine. But before I could complete my next thought of pushing her onto her back I felt a cool hand on my stomach.

It was Her.

I reached in front of me to touch her cold skin... it was her... Her cool touch only made me jerk with the sudden urge to grab at her body. Something made me hold back.

Before I relinquished all the power, I stood up and stared her in the eyes as she bit her lip. God, I wanted to tear her clothes off and pin her against the wall.

I closed my eyes as she grabbed at my arms, thrust them over my head, pinned them down with what weight she had, and slowly climbed up my body. Her small body moved in a motion that made me curious at what lengths I would go to have my way with her.

As I undid her pants I throbbed and ached to be inside her, but still I moved slowly. I struggled to unbutton the jeans. Such a simple act seemed so complicated. That damn button. And when it finally popped out, there was a small release of pleasure.

I wanted more.

The jolt was a high sense of pleasurable satisfaction as the button came undone, and I slowly made my way to taking off her pants.

I unzipped her pants feeling every click of each side of the zipper. Everything about it felt right. I moved in close to her face and once an inch away from her lips, I moved to her bare chest. I kissed her from the tip of her forehead, down further to her little nose, brushing slightly over her soft soft lips. I moved across her neck and felt her take another breath, diagonally over her chest where she released that breath, to her stomach feeling her heartbeat. I took my time moving down towards her undone pants and with each movement another perfectly symmetrical butterfly zoomed out of formation in my stomach, until I reached the end.

My patience was running out. As I reached in the direction of her pants I tugged them down and she stepped out of them. I kissed her thighs and moved back up. She stood there, still biting her lip with only her black lacy underwear on.

Still, we did not kiss.

Come let me have my way with you.

I don’t know who said that, maybe we both did. I knew we both thought it.

I watched her biting her lower lip - and she bit harder because she wanted it more. She pushed with all her weight and I fell back onto the bed catching her bare body in my arms. She braced herself, grabbed me and began to move in a rhythm only I could match...

I pushed with her, struggling to stay in control. I glanced over her smooth body once more before I teased her with a kiss. A slow, light stroke of my lips painted upon Hers.

I stopped in pleasure and moved to her neck, where I knew she enjoyed the most.

It was as if she was trying to tell me - Hurry, I've been waiting for you.

There was an instance of pain as four of her fingernails started a path upon the sweat of my back. Each half inch her nails carved, I shrank a little. Each inch they moved I sucked in an breath of pain, of aggression, of desire. This girl had some long nails. It got the point where pain felt good. The tingling on my back turned into a guilty pleasure. The winding path of the scratches only gave me a moment to acknowledge how badly she was trying to get inside of me.

I wanted her, she wanted me, and we both demonstrated how badly we wanted each other...

“HONEY! IT’S TIME FOR DINNER”

I loosened the grip I had on myself.

Fuck. I just made the biggest mess.

“YOU’VE REALLY GOT TO START LEAVING YOUR ROOM. YOU KNOW IT’S NOT HEALTHY TO NOT BE SOCIAL, MAYBE YOU SHOULD FIND SOME FRIENDS, OR EVEN A GIRLFRIEND OR SOMETHING…”

Yeah, yeah, yeah… after I clean up my mess.

“MAYBE YOU COULD COME OUT TO BINGO NIGHT WITH ME AND THE GIRLS?!?!?”

Shut up Mom.