There was no place to go,

she knew that, the school

was a complete wash out,

no place at all there, except


the gym, and that was almost

always occupied. She couldn't

take him home in their lunch

hour because her sour mother


was there, mooching around

like some miserable sick cow.

The sports field was too visible,

the small area of wood was no


good, too many prefects, spying

the grounds, doing their rounds.

She could have the occasional

grab with him for a quick peck,


in some dark nook in the corridor,

but it was all too much of a smash

and grab affair, not the kind of

kiss to make a tremor through


her hair, or stiffen her small tits

with excitement kind of kiss, she

thought sitting in the class room,

as the teacher rabbited on about


some king who'd lost his head

or something. She scribbled down

the name and date and what had

happened and why and where,


giving the male teacher the, I

couldn't care less stare. If only

Benedict was there, standing

where the teacher stood, his


hazel eyes, his quiff of hair,

ready for a kiss, and embrace,

lips to lips, face to face, hot kiss.

Benedict lived too far away;


a school bus trip, an hour or so

away from where she lived and

the school. She'd seen him briefly,

in the passageway, on her way


to biology; he smiled, waved,

then was gone, off with another

boy, towards the science labs,

his quiff dancing as he walked.


She'd not kissed him all day,

no chance had permitted, the

wet grounds had ruled out going

on the sports field to wander


and smooch, the recreation

grounds were out of bounds,

the gym too busy, too crowded

with sports loving girls, doing


their indoor netball or what

have you, and all she wanted,

needed, sitting there giving

the teacher I’m bored stare,


was a gentle kiss and cuddle ,

not this regurgitated history

and brain soaked boring muddle.

View dadio's Full Portfolio