Walking
closely behind him she carried her cafeteria tray, clutching the edges
of it for her life. Getting too close meant discovery. She had watched
his moves for weeks now. She knew his habitual patterns. As all
humans, ritual is within our nature. At week three of watching, not one
day differed from the last. Her confidence had blossomed and it was
time.
He
discarded his school lunch issued milk carton, the brown paper lunch
sack sent with him from home, and the plastic spoon. Every day he had a
yogurt or a pudding, no doubt lovingly packed by a parent. The spoon.
The spoon.......
Keeping
herself positioned directly behind him at the large garbage container
she promptly shoved her tray into the trash. Feigning clumsiness she
reached down to retrieve her tray....
….And the spoon he tossed.
Success.
She clutched it under the lip of the tray in an attempt to conceal her
prize. She deposited the tray to the dirty tray line, shoved the spoon
into her hoodie pouch and hurriedly burst through the cafe doors. It
took all her might to not sprint to the lavatory. Her heart beat
unevenly and hastily. Her cheeks, she could feel, were flush and hot.
The hair on her neck was raised and sweaty. Her panties were wet and
warm. THIS, this is what she had been waiting for.
Checking
each stall to confirm her solitude she closed her self in the far left
toilet. Locked the door and perched herself up onto the seat as to not
be discovered. Her only fear was interruption at this point. She
closed her eyes. Held her breath. Reached her clammy hand into her
pouch. Fingering the handle of the spoon she let out a moan and felt a
tingle between her thighs she had never experienced.
Pulling
out the spoon by the handle she held it with both hands in front of her
and stared into it almost as if the spoon were his eyes. She pulled it
close to her face and parted her lips, as any pubescent teen practices
kissing in the mirror, .she held the scoop of the spoon to her mouth and
wrapped her tongue around its dirty edges. Her eyes pressed tight
knowing this moment couldn’t last forever she collected memories in her
mind. The flavor of strawberry yogurt, foreign saliva and garbage all
cataloged for reminiscing over in the privacy of her bedroom later .
Putting
it deeper in her mouth she closed her lips over the white plastic spoon
and tongued it as if it were his tongue. Withdrawing it, heavy with
her spit, she gently grazed her face with it. Again her thighs tingled
with that unknown achey tingle. She dragged the spoon down her face to
her collar bone.
SLAM!
Another stall was abruptly occupied and she knew her date with the boy had to end... for now.
Now she has lots of that boy’s spoons. They are the roots of her desire, her lust and her want. Her obsessions.
She has them still, now, in totes, in her three room apartment twenty-two years later. She looks at the full totes and smiles from the thought of the first spoon. “What a silly girl I was” she thinks. She picks up her binoculars and watches her new love make coffee.....
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