02-21-2007, 04:09 PM
I did lots at school <3
He marveled at how similar his mornings were to "A Day In the Life" by The Beatles.
Woke up, got outta bed, dragged a comb across my head. Found my way down stairs n drank a cup, then looking up I noticed I was late…
He woke up. Got dressed. Taking little care in his appearance, he rushed to work. Michael. A man. He missed Michelle. He would see her tonight but for now he must work. Statistics. Ties. Figures. Suits. Women. Women in skirts. Women in skirts with black stockings hugging their legs. He loved the way a woman's calf muscle tensed as she walked. Especially in high heels. Black high-heels and black stockings.
Michael had not shaved. Caressing his chin he felt the stubble. Michelle did not like stubble; he would shave tonight.
Julie walked past. Raising his eyebrow and slightly lifting the corner of his mouth he marveled at her legs. As she smiled and walked away he spied on her calves. Black high-heels, black stockings.
Women had that shape about them. When a man walks his backside moves forward with each step. Right leg forward, right cheek forward. Left leg forward, left cheek forward. Women on the other hand, he thought, a woman's bottom (as he liked to call it when referring to a woman) moves out to the side. A woman's bottom, particularly Julie's bottom, made Michael want to run to the bathroom to relieve himself. But that is teenage behavior. He was no longer a teen.
On his way to the bus he looked at his backside in the shop windows. Straight forward. No movement to the side at all. He knew this would be the same for Michelle.
He admired a woman on the bus. Her hair fell straight down. Browny-red in colour. One side fell over her ear and into her face in one straight mass. The other side was neatly tucked behind her ear. Tonight he would make sure Michelle's hair did that. It would look sweet with her little button nose. He stared at his nose in the bus window. He liked it.
Julie had been wearing a tight skirt that pulled in tight around her hips, slightly looser on her legs and falling just below her knees. Michelle should look like that tonight. Michelle would look beautiful and he would be proud. He would dress her. He would even do her make-up. He did not consider himself a "pansy" or a "poof". Just because he could apply foundation smoothly. Just because his eyeliner looked better than any he'd seen. Just because his colour scheming was precise. It didn't matter, Michelle didn't think he was a pansy. Michelle thought he was "sensitive".
There were beautiful women everywhere. As he stepped off the bus he followed a blonde walking her dog. She turned but did not recognise him. She would recognise Michelle. Not a single piece of hair was stuck to her clothing. Maybe she did not pat her dog.
The key went into the door and he was home. Time to dress Michelle for tonight. He laid her outfit on the bed for her. He wouldn't dress her, but he would do her make-up. He had a shave and he was ready.
A good two hours were spent. He did not believe make-up was something to be rushed. Her skin would glow. Not shine like an oily teen in a photo, but glow. It would glow with a warmth of smooth surfaces. It would glow with the rich blush he was applying.
Her eyes would be deep, mysterious, dark. His eyeliner was perfect. His mascara made her lashes look thick and full.
He would brush her hair and he would tuck one side behind her ear. She was beginning to look beautiful.
Her make-up was done so she dressed. He would not look at her until she was ready. He wanted a surprise.
Black high-heels, black stockings. She knew that Michael loved that. She dressed in a skirt hat hugged her hips. Though she hated her hips. Not womanly enough. Michael had not yet seen her. She was almost ready to show him.
He was almost ready to see. Then he would leave and let her have a good night.
She was ready to show him.
He was ready to look.
She stepped in front of the mirror.
He stepped in front of the mirror.
She hoped he'd like what he saw.
He stared at his reflection. She was beautiful.
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