Deer In the Headlights

Trouble is always easy to find especially if you're looking for it. If the devil searched for idle minds to set up his workshop, he found three in James Frisco, Lewis Vann and me. The only things on our minds during those days were girls. Sure, we occasionally thought of school, but only as a place with more girls. We did class work because ass-whippings all around awaited each of us if we didn't produce.

Since I mentioned school, it is a good place to start the story at Independence Junior High School where my buddies and I sort of attended school. Changing classes was always a sex-drenched event for "copping" a feel or looking down the blouse of some girl who was aware there were testosterone fueled teenage boys in the flow of students. We were part of them.

Of course, to stoop to such low behavior was not an issue for us. Carl Carter and Harold Adams provided excellent examples of the "sneak grab," the "accidental grind" and the "let me help you with those books titty brush." Using today's standards, we were little more than high school perverts excused only by our terminal stupidity.

Oh, the story. It was time for the annual "Spring Sing." There were plenty of pretty girls at our school, but there was only one time each year that nearly all of them would be in one place and that was the annual "Spring Sing." The "Spring Sing" was a choral fantasy featuring the school's best singers, which held only a small contingent of boys. However, plenty of teenage boys attended because that's where the girls were.

Lewis, Jimmy and I already planned to go to the event, but we had ulterior motives. We planned a secret  rendezvous meeting with several girls we knew who weren't adverse to our idea. The guys all met at my house the night of the "Sping Sing," where we slipped out of our stocking caps, brushed the sparse mustaches we had and slapped on too generous splashes of Hai Karate. 

Once we arrived at the school, we went straight to the auditorium where the "Spring Sing" had just started, which was part of the plan. Each one of us would leave the concert one by one and the girls would do the same then meet with us at the rendezvous point. It all went as planned.

With each of us holding hands with our favorite girl, we made our way in the darkness to the emptiness of the top floor. Once there, we split up and headed to recessed doorways leading to the classrooms. Upon reaching the sunken openings, the fireworks began. I don't know what the others were doing, but my girl and I were locked in a tight embrace swapping spit, bumping and grinding.

In the darkness, the mood was heavy with romance, youthful sexuality all tinged with perfume and cologne. I remember her lips being especially soft and warm. She tasted like Colgate tooth paste, which wasn't a bad thing. Between the two us, a factory of mouthwash flowed making the prolonged kisses even more arousing. I was entering dangerous territory, hidden on the top floor of the school, in the dark, with pants pulling tighter and not sure of what to do next.

Suddenly, I didn't have to worry about meeting in the wrong place as bright lights assaulted my eyes.

"I'm gonna tell, I'm gonna tell," San Frisco shouted as she ran down the hall.

There we were in the light of truth wishing Jimmy's little sister to be struck mute on the spot, but it was too late. We were frozen like deer in the headlights in our embarrassment, not that we thought we did anything wrong because we didn't. It was because of our stupidity in thinking we had privacy in a public place.

We ran from the school to discuss what we would say if the news leaked to our parents. We all decided the best thing to do was play it straight and we did. Of course, by the time we got home the news had arrived. We were all strictly reprimanded and grounded, That was it. I guess our parents wanted to give us time to kick ourselves in the ass for being so stupid. The consequences for our bad behavior were not bad, but neither were they good, because all eyes were on us.