Note: You can change font size, font face, and turn on dark mode by clicking the "A" icon tab in the Story Info Box.
You can temporarily switch back to a Classic Literotica® experience during our ongoing public Beta testing. Please consider leaving feedback on issues you experience or suggest improvements.
Click here
So I was in! One of the big cliques... I was on the team! Yeah but I was still me, Mr. Shadow, keeping my head down, mouth shut, painfully shy and reserved. But I watched, I observed, I noticed. What I didn't know was that I wasn't the only one like this. Sure I was part of the team but I was still mostly a loner. There were other loners too, one in particular would later make a very big difference in my life.
One of my classes that sophomore year was of all things a typing class. This today would be a little strange in that so few people have to actually learn to type anymore as most have mastered it long before even reaching grade school, certainly before high school. But in my day, typing class was still a thing. Mostly aimed towards girls that would later be looking for jobs like secretarial positions and the like, but there were a few guys that also gravitated to that class for whatever reason. I myself took it as a suggestion from my own mother who had actually worked in a factory where they made typewriters before she married my father. At this point in time however the world of academia was transitioning from old style standard typewriters to the newer electric models. Unfortunately the school district didn't have enough budget to replace all the old machines with new so I ended up saddled with an older manual which suited me just fine really. Being a guy, and while not all thumbs I did have a problem keeping my digits injury free. Face it, I played football, at any given time I had at least one finger jammed or swollen sometimes even broken. Yeah I was not the fastest typist, by a long shot! But I was a willing student and I practiced as fast as I could and I learned. Thanks a great deal to the patience and guidance of our typing teacher Mrs. Mays.
At first I had the distinct impression that she would much rather I were not in this class to begin with. Not that she was obviously biased against guys in the class but it seemed that she fawned over certain girls in the class. They could do no wrong. Others she just smiled and helped them when they asked for help. Me on the other hand, while professional always, she seemed a little cold. Maybe it was that reason that I got stubborn and set out to prove myself worthy of her instruction. I made it a point to watch and learn. Of the class of twenty eight there were only myself and three other guys and two of those dropped out of the class within the first two weeks, a few of the girls did as well though. The star students, the "chosen ones" as some of the more mediocre girls nicknamed them, excelled and shone brightly under Mrs. Mays' instruction. She praised them and pointed out how well they were doing to the rest of us. Oh goody.
After Thanks Giving holiday break, football season over of course but I still had sore fingers so I still struggled even though I did manage to get the basics down. I'd never be a fast typist so being someone's secretary was out of the question, not that I had ever had plans for that in the first place. My speed, words per minute, still ranked me near the bottom of the class but that didn't bother me. Since there were not enough new electric typewriters for every student, someone had decided that they would be rotated around so that each student would get some experience with them, half the class for half the semester, then the other half for the remainder of the semester.
I was kind of looking forward to improving my speed with the use of the new electric machine. While waiting for class to begin that first day back I noticed one of the quieter girls who had previously been using an electric was struggling with the older manual machine that I had previously used myself. Whereas her fine delicate fingers had literally nearly flown across the electric's keys she was finding it difficult to strike the keys with enough force to consistently type anything. I also noticed that she had two fingers taped together on her left hand. I was all too familiar with that sort of bandage as I practically lived that way the first half of the semester. By the end of the class that day Michelle (her name) was dejected and in tears. Some of Mrs. Mays "stars" were not so quietly making fun of her amongst themselves. Yeah, there were mean girls back then too.
Mrs. Mays sat at her desk going over her lesson plans for the next class as our class wound down and people began turning in their completed assignments. I usually turned mine in last or nearly last every day as I was the slowest in the class as far as typing speed. With the use of the new electric machine I was closer to the middle range of the class now and because of my heavy handed typing I had learned to be careful and make fewer mistakes. Michelle was still trying to finish up as the bell rang and everyone started leaving the classroom. I waited until Michelle gave up and turned in her daily assignment unfinished and left in tears. Stepping back into the room I bashfully approached Mrs. Mays and asked her if I could have a moment of her time.
Looking up at me with a mildly annoyed expression she asked what I wanted. I told her about seeing Michelle's bandaged fingers and that I knew she was struggling with the transition from the electric to a heavier manual typewriter. Knowing that her fingers were not likely to get any better very soon I asked her if I could trade machine assignments with her and let her use the electric so that she could go on and pass the class. I on the other hand had grown accustomed to the standard and I wasn't too worried about not making a good grade based on my typing speed as I really didn't have plans to use this skill after graduating in a few years anyway... Boy would I learn how wrong that statement was... At first Mrs. Mays looked at me as if I were some strange insect or perhaps an animal that suddenly began speaking English. She couldn't believe I would make such a sacrifice for someone that I didn't even know. Her mouth opened and closed several times but nothing came out as she studied me trying to determine if I were serious or not. Finally she sat back and asked. "Are you sure Jim?" Still not believing what she heard.
"Yes ma'am. " I told her. "I'm never going to be as fast as anyone else in the class so it doesn't bother me to continue using the standard machine."
"Well, okay then." She said still searching my eyes for something. I thanked her and headed off to my next class.
The next day I came in and took my seat at the same old standard machine that I had begun the semester on and when Michelle came in the only machine left was the electric that I had used the day before. Not knowing what to do she went to Mrs. Mays' desk and asked her what she should do. I didn't hear what was said but I saw their two heads close together in private conversation and then Michelle looked up at me then back at Mrs. Mays. Mrs. Mays nodded her head and gave the slightest little shrug and then nodded again. Michelle turned and slowly walked back to the open machine and took her seat, all the while looking at me out of the corner of her eye as if trying to figure me out.
Michelle still had trouble completing her assignments by the allotted time each day for the next week or so and nearing the end of the third week she was getting frustrated at the amount of errors and her flagging speed at typing. I of course noticed her struggling every day but was too shy to say anything or to even offer encouragement. All the while, though I didn't perceive it, I was also under scrutiny of Mrs. Mays. She watched me as if seeing me for the first time but in a new light. I did notice that she seemed to be a little less aloof when she interacted with me, even offering tips on certain functions of the machine I was using. My speed did improve, slowly but as I said, I tried not to make many errors so over all I was steadily improving. That third week however I did something unusual.
Just before class began on that Friday I actually approached Michelle and asked her how her fingers were coming along, healing. She told me that her doctor had told her the break was all but healed but they wanted her to keep her fingers immobilized to prevent them from being re injured, at least until her next appointment, in one more week. I told her I had more than my fair share of experience with broken and injured fingers. My doctor told me that once the swelling goes down and the bones have set, it's actually better to get them "back in the game" so to speak by using them, to rebuild their strength. I asked her if they still hurt. She admitted they didn't really hurt but with them taped together it was hard to do anything with them or that hand at all.
I reached into my pocket and pulled out my pocket knife... this was ages ago, almost everyone carried pocket knives and they were not illegal or banned back then. Anyway, I pulled out my pocket knife and asked her if she would like to take the tape off and try working without it today. Michelle looked wide eyed at me and clutched her injured hand in her good hand and pulled it to her chest as if cradling it away from harm. There was a look of, what, fear, in her eyes? No maybe not fear but certainly some worry in those pale green eyes. I had never really noticed them before, but then I'd never been this close to her before either. They were almost the color of turquoise with little golden flecks like freckles sprinkled in. I turned the knife around and holding it by the blade and held it out for her to take from me so that she could cut the tape. Looking at me then at the knife then back at me, then finally she looked at her hand with the taped fingers before slowly extending her hand towards me. "Could you cut the tape for me?" She asked quietly.
Dropping down and squatting on my heels beside her work station I turned the knife around and took her taped up hand in my left hand gently and brought the knife blade to the tape and carefully eased the edge under the tape between her fingers and cut the tape. I put the knife on the table and took the fingers of both my hands and gently peeled back the tape from around her fingers until it came off and away from her skin. Michelle pulled her hand back and massaged the newly freed fingers and flexed them carefully. Then looked up at me shyly and smiled and said "Thank you..."
"Jim" I told her... smiling I stood and collected my knife and put it away as I walked back to my machine as the bell rang and class got underway. Mrs. Mays had watched the whole thing from her desk and looked thoughtful but didn't comment. As the class wore on and we all worked on the assignment that Mrs. Mays put out for us that day, I couldn't help but notice that Michelle seemed to take wing with her typing. Beginning hesitantly at first fearing pain from her fingers, her confidence grew with each passing keystroke. By the end of the class she was typing as fast as she ever had, maybe even a little faster as her time with the bandages had got her to be a little more careful with her keystrokes to avoid mistakes.
I went on to pass typing class, I never did get anywhere near a good speed in words per minute but I was told that I was sufficiently proficient to pass. I was happy with that. I never did get to know Michelle any better but I would see her around school from time to time and she would smile shyly at me each time. Sometime she would whisper with the other girls she was with and I would hear giggles as girls often do. I was clueless of course.
...
Several years later, after having moved to another county and finishing and graduating from senior high school in that county, I began my studies at the University. I also began working part time for Dom's Pizza, delivering pizzas to pay for my gas and insurance for my commute to and from school. I took the job here in town as I pretty much grew up here and knew my way around town very well. This was a major asset in a time when there was no such thing as GPS or Google maps. You had to know the streets and how to get around or know how to read a paper map. It was a fun job, with some interesting perks once you got established and were seasoned. If you fit in, you were introduced to a whole new world, a subculture that for anyone who'd lead a sheltered life would find to be quite eye opening indeed.
I sat out one semester from University before I began. There was a financial adjustment being made the year I graduated from high school. The national grocery chain my father had worked for my entire life had been bought out by a foreign company and they had decided to close and sell off all the stores in our area. Suddenly my father was without a job. This, after having just spent his life savings and going into debt in order to buy the farm we now lived on made my first year of college questionable. Dad was never one to sit still though, he had bought the farm with the goal of opening his own business in a few years, but the loss of his job only accelerated his plans. My mother took a couple of part time jobs, dad was working several part time jobs while also scrambling to get his business up and running. I was still living on the farm along with my other younger siblings who were all still in school so I pretty much took over work on the farm, tending animals, fences, chores... anything that needed to be done. I learned to do things by myself. It was a tough time for everyone but we got through it. When dad was ready to open for business, mom began working for him. I applied for student loans and grants and was able to get the funds to make my college debut. My dad cashed in an insurance policy he had taken out when I was born and was able to buy me a used pickup truck. I had to provide for my own gas and insurance of course and that meant working. I applied for several jobs and hustled some side jobs as well like yard care and other odd jobs, handy man kind of stuff. Eventually I got hired on at Dom's Pizza. And then life took another turn.
A turn for the better in more ways than one, I made a lot of new friends and learned a lot about myself and about the world. My reliability in showing up on time and every day I was scheduled earned me favor with my managers. My willingness to help with anything and attention to detail further impressed them and others. I know it sounds like I'm blowing myself up and bragging but I'm just setting the stage so that you the reader can understand how things developed and got me to the point in time of this story. Remember I was still very naïve and unworldly at this point in time, all of nineteen years old, full of energy and wonder and curiosity, but not so full of self confidence. As I made friends at Dom's my world was expanding exponentially. I got taken under the wings of those with more knowledge and experience. I got educated. Like anywhere, people talk, friends dig and pry and get to know you, they tease you and kid around and sometimes help you out in ways that you never saw coming. Months of working closely and long hours hustling (delivering) pizzas and of course cleaning and prepping the store for business, I got to know some of my fellow employees very well, and they me. Now I've already told you that I was mostly shy and soft spoken around people, especially strangers, but I do open up a bit more when I get to know people better. I guess it's a comfort thing, or trust, which is pretty much the same thing sometimes. But trust and acceptance are a two way street, I had proven myself more and more and earned the trust of those I worked closely with.
At the time I worked for Dom's Pizza I became aware that first, most of the managers and trainees I worked for and with were female, many of the delivery drivers were female as well. Of course this is not an objectionable thing to a young guy, not in the least. Unfortunately I being shy, even more so when it came to dealing with the opposite sex, meant that it could also be uncomfortable at times. The girls soon discovered that I was easily embarrassed and took great joy in pushing my buttons and watching me blush and squirm. It was this very shyness and openness that got me behind the wall.
Most people aren't even aware of the wall, it's invisible, not spoken of and rarely breached. To be allowed to come inside the wall is the highest form of acceptance of those forced to live behind that wall. So what the hell is the "wall" you ask. The wall is the barrier that secrecy creates out of necessity to remain safe from persecution, discrimination and hurt. You see, I discovered, by observation and paying attention to subtle clues that most of these women, girls were gay. Now not all of them were, and some of the ones that were actually liked both guys and girls. It was a lot to take in for a young guy who had never been exposed to anything like that before. But as I said, I was accepted, not because I was gay or anything but that I was open minded and not judgmental of their preferences or choices. Over time with a lot of questions and embarrassment on my part I learned a lot of things from these ladies. I learned a lot about myself as well.
One of my fellow drivers at Dom's, Jules, did yard work on the side and I often helped out when I had time between classes and working and of course my work on the farm. I met some of her "friends" outside of Dom's as well. One afternoon I was helping Jules mow some yards that she took care of on a regular basis. She had had car trouble the week before and was behind and asked if I'd like to pick up a few bucks. I took her up on it and she said that one of her friends would be working at the address she gave me but it was usually a two person job because of the size of the yard and all the plants and stuff in the yard. With my lawn mower and gas in the back of my pickup I made my way that Saturday morning to the address she had given me. When I pulled up I saw her friend, or I thought it must be her friend as she was struggling to pull start a push mower in the front yard. I unloaded my mower from the truck and pushed it over to the sidewalk and walked up to introduce myself to this gal in the baggy sweat pants and cut off tee shirt and dirty ball cap. She was covered in sweat and grass clippings.
"Hi" I said "Jules asked me to help out with this yard, looks like you just about got the front finished, you want me to head to the back..." I stopped mid sentence when this girl turned around to look at me, she took her hat off and shook her hair out and dragged her forearm across her brow. That's when we locked eyes on one another... hers were a pale blue green with golden flecks... and we both instantly recognized the other. "Michelle!"
"You! " She paused reaching for my name then smiled "Jim! Right?"
"Yeah, you remembered my name..." I stammered not sure what to say next.
"Well you obviously remembered my name, what happened to you? You disappeared." She spoke while she looked me up and down.
"Uh... I... I mean my family moved, I had to change schools, it kind of sucked." I said distractedly as my brain started putting things together. I remembered Michelle from typing class back in my sophomore year, I thought she was cute then and more than once had daydreamed about speaking with her and getting to know her but that never happened, mostly out of my own shyness, but then moving away, it just never happened. Then there was the realization that she was friends with Jules, and Jules was decidedly playing for the other team and most of her friends were of a like mind and preference. Not all of them but most of them. So does that mean that Michelle was like Jules? And what was with that smile? Her delicate features I remembered from high school remained but there was something else about her now, a strength of some kind but that smile was all girl and very pretty I must admit. I must have looked like a fool standing there just staring while my brain processed all this so I was a bit startled when she reached up and snapped her fingers in front of my face bringing me back to the moment.
