Running Upstairs

There are moments that stick in my mind, unusual glimpses seem the most glaring. The sun light was piercing through the angles of the architecture from a certain angle. There were walls, roofs, awnings, and a little ray of bright sun pierced through it amid the dark fall day. The light was bright yellow. My eyes were so overwhelmed that it splintered and left a red after image when I looked away. I felt warm despite the vapor of everyone's breath staying in the air for a second or two before dissipating. I think I had a sense of calmness, drawn into myself, and observant.

Neither was my environment, at all. The boys were running. Their faces were excited. They held their ping pong paddles ready. See, they were rushing out of the school house on the mini-recess between the second and the third session. They usually chased to claim the ping pong table in the school yard. Today had an extra frenzy. They were gambling ownership of the girls in the class. Like playing for pennies, the winner of the ping pong game would walk away owning the girl that they played about.

That's why even the girls had come out into the cold fall weather to watch the modern knights fight in their tournament for the princess in the high tower. I was pushed away from the guys roving to get close to the table. Sonya was at the center. Her face was gleaming with joy and peace. Her perfect curly blond hair framed her. Her blue eyes took the attention of the boys. She had those fashionable boutique clothes that her parents paid for. Those same parents that paid for her piano that the shipping company had to lift the piano with a crane up to her second floor room.

Every time that I recall the face, I feel my chest constricting. I feel frustration and fury rise up in me. Why not me? Why can't the boys pick me? Why does she get to tell her piano story at length in class? Why doesn't anyone see me?

Ms. Nancy is the only time in senior class that I felt acknowledged. She interacted with us all equally. The previous Friday, our acting class had gathered in the little pastry vending area. During lunch time, it was packed with a line. In the afternoon, it was a quiet, secluded spot for our class. She asked us to lie down on our backs with our arms and legs rolled open. We were to close our eyes and feel how the earth was holding us.

I was afraid of course. My parents had warned me about the yoga religion. Christ is the only god that should be praised. And the yoga religion believed in nature being a god. A few classmates were missing because their parents had pulled them away from this dangerous teacher. I hadn't told my parents anything.

I carefully let my inner senses drift to what was underneath me. There was the cold, red clay brick of the floor. I knew that underneath it was heavy dirt. Then, there'd be a layer of rock. I could imagine the worms and moles digging around underneath me. So that is the earth goddess. I must not get too close to her lest I lose my salvation. My heartbeat was quickening as I was so close to this deity that wanted to seduce me to fall from god.

Yet, I couldn't turn my focus away from feeling the rock and roots deeply underneath me. I couldn't help but follow Ms. Nancy's words guiding us. Her words were so soothing. I think more than anything, I wanted to be held carefully by someone, anyone, just not be alone in this world. I knew that she was leading me away from god. Yet, in her voice, I could hear a sense of beauty, a sense of love, and a sense of wonder. She was taking me on this guided meditation to show me a garden of joy deep in my subconscious.

She told us to imagine an energetic tail and lower it all the way down to the hot glowing lava at the core of the earth. And that's when I felt it. My pussy was wet. There was this cozy and warm pulsating sensation that relaxed me, made me cozy into the ground and listen to Ms. Nancy's voice, letting each word drum a little tingle down my spine.

My first reaction was to close my legs. Yet, I froze in fear. Ms. Nancy had told us to roll our legs and arms open. I could not cross my legs. Oh my god, they would be able to smell me soon. I felt caught. I kept my eyes tightly shut hoping not to be noticed. I had to keep my legs rolled open wide. I could not draw attention. And so, my pussy was opened up to the world. Sure, the panties and jeans covered me. Yet, I could feel the panties get wet. Then, the smell of my pussy reached my nose. All that was open to the world.

Being that exposed aroused me even more.

I felt like I was in a fever dream. I listened to Ms. Nancy's warm words painting vivid scenes. There I hoped to be caught. I hoped that the girl next to me could smell me. I hoped that the boy next to me could smell me. I liked lying there helpless to cover up. I wanted to be caught with my embarrassing secret.

Catch me! Sneer up your nose at my wetness! Look down on me!

Ms. Nancy clapped her hands to wake us up. Theatre class was over. We hugged each other, as was customary in the warm, creative arts classes. We walked out into the already dark late afternoon.

That moment occupied me quite a bit. It was my first time that I had been aroused in public. I liked it. There is something about being around people that sets me on alarm. It's like a sense of danger of what people could do to me. Being aroused in the middle of people, I found it immensely stimulating.

I had a long train ride home from school. The fields, telephone posts, and railroad crossings were well familiar to me from twelve years of school. The rattling of the train as it jumped from one rail to the next rail was a familiar undertone. The seats were worn and overly soft. The train crossed the whole country. I only got on it for one step for my daily commute. It was a daily connection with going somewhere far and traveling. So, I sat there in those overly familiar places, deeply sunken into my own thoughts. I replayed the feelings in my body over and over. I felt like I had a glow inside of myself. I thought about sun energy. I was channeling the sun's energy, Ms. Nancy would have said. Sin is when you fall from the face of god.

I don't ultimately know why I did it. Maybe, it had to do with senior year. Everything was shifting in my life. I was seeing a career counselor for my life after school. Mom finally let me drive the family car after my eighteen's birthday. I had completely the last history exam that I'd ever take in my life. I hated history. Who cares about dead people?

But there I was. I closed the train restroom door behind me. The door was small. There was a big step to get through the door. The train shoved a hard left as it hit an uneven rail. I steadied myself. Someone opened the carriage door and a rush of wind blew in, tearing at my hair and my skirt. I yelped and grabbed my groin hard. The fluttering skirt lifted as quickly as the wind had gushed underneath it. I breathed again.

My nerves were still shaky. I liked the sense of danger. As something was driving me to follow Ms. Nancy into her yoga world to pull me away from god, the same way, I was driven to go through with it. My purse was closed. Inside of it were my panties.

I blended in with the crowd leaving the train and walking to school in a thick throng of kids of various ages. The young kiddies kept pushing each other. I was quieter than usual. I tried to keep in my fear. The oddity was how normal everyone was, how unaware. All the while, I vividly clear about the sensation of the naked skin between my butt cheeks. I could feel my pussy lips open and rub against each other with my steps. I'd know that my smells would waft out. The cool outdoor air camouflaged me. However once I'd get to a small, warm room with only few people, I'd stand out. Would they catch me?

It was hard to step out of the group. The crowd moved me. There was no privacy to step into and put the panties back on. I got scared. I had to act normal to avoid drawing suspicion. What I couldn't control was my breathing. That breathing that started racing me, no matter how much I tried to slow it down. When I slowed it down, I felt like I was suffocating. My body was using up so much oxygen. I was quietly, internally getting strangled, middle in that crowd of school kids.

Despite my struggle, everything went fine. I said my hellos with getting caught or drawing any suspicion. The problem was at the base of the staircase. The senior class was in the highest classroom. I had to walk up a staircase. The three science geeks (Peter, George, and Ryan) were talking about a computer game right at the foot of the staircase. As I'd walk up the stairs, they'd see beneath the skirt to look at my butt. They were unaware of me.

I had to be fast. I took all my non-runner strength and started dashing up the stairs, taking two steps at a time and straining for a third step with my small 5' 1" body. In the corner of my eyes, I could sense blurry movement from the guys. George exclaimed: "What the fuck is up with Anya?" I could sense that they were all turning around to figure out why I was running so hard. And that exactly got them to stare at my naked butt under my plaid skirt. I pushed harder and harder. I had to get away. I had to get up the stairs. The pulse was pounding at my temples. As I made the crest of the stairs, I heard Peter say with a shrug in his voice: "Don't know. Maybe, she put Red Bull in her breakfast." I could hear the soft sound of them shuffling back to facing each other.

I didn't care much for the science geeks. Nobody thought much of what they talked about. They were weird. I didn't feel aroused. This had been more of a thrill. I sat in English class and wondered why I had done the whole thing in the first place. I think I had hoped to get aroused to feel again what I had felt in that yoga session. Sitting in class, I couldn't feel arousal. Everyone was focused on counting verses. I had hoped to be smelly. Yet, sniffing the air, I could smell the teacher's coffee aroma in the air. He always had a bit of bad digestion from coffee that smelled rather repulsive. Brian's hair was smelly as always, like wet dog. Sonya's perfume had a flowery smell. And of course, her girlfriend's complimented her on it.

There was Bernd. I haven't told you about him. He was rather average. He didn't have the best grades. He wasn't a school athlete. He didn't contribute much to class conversations. The one noteworthy thing about him was that he drove to school with a bike every day. He wore his second hand leather jacket throughout the school day. His dad was a mechanic, which was why his dad bought Bernd a used motorbike. Bernd was like me, cast out of the limelight and somewhat satisfied about it. He had something very settled about him. He knew that in another couple months after school was over, he'd work in his dad's shop. He had spent his afternoons hanging out in the shop ever since a young kid. So, nothing was particularly new or hard to him. He knew that his dad would let him test ride the cool bikes for a little fun after they were fixed.

I think that's why I was drawn to him. He seemed like me, yet unlike my completely uncertain future, he was at ease about his world. He didn't get a stab in the stomach each time he saw the quarterback, like I do when I see Sonya. That calm energy drew me to him.

So, at the break between second and third session, when most of the boys went to compete at the ping pong table, he was standing cool in the breakroom, having his self-satisfied. I walked up to him. I reached into my purse. I could feel the cotton fabric and the thick waistband. I scrunched them up really well, so that they would be entirely enclosed by my fist. I pressed them into his hands. He looked at me puzzled and started holding up the panties. He tried to unravel the panties. I could see the pink flower. I quickly squeezed his hands together. I felt like my heart got shot. He closed his hands quickly as his eyes popped open wide.

My lungs were so tight. All I could press out was: "Make me work to get them back."

Then, I dashed off as fast as I could. I could feel my face on fire. My breathing was rough. I wanted to hide. I kept dashing until I was next to the water cooler, which was in the far corner of the building. I was all alone. Nobody came here in winter. I started pacing. Feeling alone, I punched my face: "What are you thinking, you little idiot!"

Then, the school bell rang. I had to face the music. I had to walk back to the classroom. Luckily, there was a group of people walking up. So, any looks up my skirt would be blocked by people pushing behind me, eager to get back in time. I honestly didn't know what to expect. I had certain hopes. I certainly didn't expect this.

Bernd was waiting for me inside the door. He grabbed my right hand, ready to hand me back my panties, very discreetly: "That was really sexy. I don't want to cause you trouble."

I felt anger. I felt a shot of anger. I felt it coming out of my eyes. I felt abashed for not covering it up better. I had worked so hard. I had gone through such terrors. And he was going to chicken out. Fuck you! I was furious. Yet, all that came out was a very pressed: "Make me work for them."

I pushed his hand back and dashed to my desk. I could see him unsure and trying to push past the other students to reach me. Then, his effort fizzled out. He looked uncertain. The teacher was looking at him as everyone was seated. He mumbled "sorry" and got his seat.

Even more maddening then his refusal to give me a challenge was his absence later. At the second recess, I had expected him to tell me the challenge. Yet, he wasn't to be found. I looked outside at the ping-pong table. I looked in the pastry area. I looked at the water cooler. During the next session, I sent a little paper message to him with the simple question "What?" I followed the paper snippet travel from person to person. Of course, everyone opened it and read it. He looked at it and ignored it.

A terror was brewing inside of me. This wasn't a little sexy game to me anymore. I was in panic. My panties were lost to me. They had disappeared. God knows what could have happened to them. I needed my panties before I got home. Even as I wasn't aroused at all, there was something that I severely needed in this experience. I needed to feel. Every day the same thing was so numbing. As uncomfortable as the whole situation was, that pain that I felt contained a sense of newness. I needed newness. I needed to shake this daily life off.

When the final school bell rang, I had twenty minutes to make it to the train. I went straight up to Bern. With terror in my voice, I blurted out: "Where are they?"

"You said to make you work for it, right," he asked, very cool in his demeanor, yet looking at me with watchful eyes.

"Yes," I replied

"They are in the boy's restroom, last stall," a smile broke over his lips. I could feel the devil inside of him. Was he pissed at me that I refused him to return the panties? Was he trying to get back at me? I could feel this emotion of: You asked for it. Now, you got it.

The train was leaving in twenty minutes. The walk to the train took fifteen minutes. I had five minutes to get my panties. I dashed out of the classroom and to the seniors' restroom. I had never been in the boy's restroom before. The first impression was that it was scummy. The brown hand paper was all over the floor. Black footsteps were imprinted on the floor. A blond boy had his pelvis thrust forward peeing. An Asian boy was combing his hair over carefully looking into the mirror.

"Hey, Anya, you got the wrong restroom," hollered the Asian guy.

Through the slits in the second stall, I could see Peter with his pants around his ankles leaning forward to take a dump.

"I lost something here," I responded. That didn't make any sense.

The last stall was the disabled stall. It ran the whole width of the room. There was a lot of empty space. The toilet seat was up with dried, yellow urine spots along the rim. My panties weren't there. There was a pile of crumbled up hygiene toilet seat paper in the corner. I kicked it pile apart hoping not to hit any used toilet paper. I could see the pink unicorn of my panties lurking out. I carefully grabbed it with the tips of my fingers, pulled up my beloved panties, stuffed them in my purse, and took off out of there as fast as possible.

"Mi casa, tu casa," hollered the Asian guy behind me. "Come back any time. We boys like to share."

Back on the humdrum train ride, I caught my breath. I wasn't turned on. I wasn't wet and aroused. I felt breathless and raged. Yet, I also had that driving feeling. You know when a scratch scabs over and starts falling away. It develops this itch that wants to be plugged at. Being forced into the guys' restroom was so wrong, so scary, and so dangerous. Yet, something inside of me felt alive. The image of the calmness and meticulousness of the Asian guy holding the comb stuck in my head. The image of the pettiness of Peter, cowering to take a shit, stuck in my head. Being the spy in the place of manliness. It all left an impression on me. As I was back in safety, the arousal came. I could feel myself getting moist. Before I expected it, the plum of my sex hit my nose. I felt embarrassed, embarrassed in that arousing way of being caught like in the yoga class. I was very happy.

The next day, I was sitting in class. The teacher was drawing out the battle strategy of red ants on the board. The chalk was hitting the board hard with each stroke - tok tok tok. I overheard the Asian boy tell his desk mate that I hadn't worn any panties the day before. It was so quiet. I couldn't quite hear for sure. I thought that they were talking about me. Yet, I couldn't be sure. I kept replaying those sounds snippets in my head to get certain. I think sometimes, we hear what we want to hear. And sometimes, we hear very clearly what it is yet are in denial. I pondered so much about it that I wasn't sure. Yet it reminded me about the adventure.

Two months, and I would never see any of these people again. High school would be over. We'd all scatter to the wind. That's how I explained to myself what I was about to do. I was again in commando. My panties were again bunched up into a tiny ball completely contained by my fist. I pressed the panties into Bernd's hand. "Make me work harder this time!"

I turned and walked away more calmly this time. I had a sense of certainty. I walked to my desk. I got my pencil out. I started taking notes about the new French vocabulary. I pretty much put the whole thing out of my mind, expecting it only to start at the very end of the day. That's when I heard the giggling behind me.

I turned. Peter's desk mate, the Russian son of the liquor store owner looked at me and raised his fist a tad above the desk to signal me. Oh no, did he have my panties? I hadn't expected Bernd to hand my panties to someone else. Somehow that was a violation of the rules of our game. It was supposed to be a secret between us.

The teacher wrote the next verb on the blackboard. I used that to turn around fully and get a good idea. The kid two over was holding my panties by his thumb and index finger as if they were a dead skunk. I could see the stars, ponies, and rainbow of my panties. His face looked disgusted. The Russian guy was pressing his lips together to suppress a smirk. The teacher turned around suspicious of the classroom. He eyed into the general direction. The third guy slouched in his chair with his legs stretched out straight. The teacher couldn't make out anything and turned back to writing vocabulary on the blackboard.

"Give them back," I mouthed voicelessly at them.

Instead, the gangly kid wrote on them with a pen. He proudly held up his squiggles to me. There was a circle at the crotch, the size of a quarter and the words "dick goes here." They were ruining my panties! Their cheeks were rosy with excitement.