Pedestrian trifles

Amazingly the world is still intact, moving and bustling like nothing is wrong. But something is wrong, very wrong. And of course, that to me is very right.

I sit down, and breathe in. Realizing how tired I am, I place a hand on my chest, refilling my stamina. One handful of seconds later, I'm laying on the grass looking at the sky, feeling great. The hand gesture was just a flair. But the feeling was real.

People walk by. Cars chug down the lanes. I want to break the tedium so my phone rings, its location being from the high school. I answer it.

"Hello?"

"Hi, is this John Doe?" The voice, female and pleasant to the ear, skips the formalities.

"Yes, that' s me."

"Well, this is the principal of Towne High School. I just wanted to inform you of new conditions regarding your school attendance."

"Sure."

"For one, you have been granted Oh-Yeah-Look-At-Me-King-Fucking-John-Of-The-Fucking-World status. This means you can do whatever the fuck you want, including, of course, not coming to school, not completing your homework, and failing all your tests. Do all this, or not, and we'll still ensure you get into whatever prestigious school you desire in any part of the nation or world, if they don't seek you out first."

Sounds good to me. "I understand," I tell her. "Anything else?"

"Please, John, picture what I'm doing right now: rubbing a ruler against my clit this very instant because of how obviously wet and horny you make me, and get off on it however you like." She lets slip out a very blatant squeak then sighs. "Other than that, have fun and be safe. And remember, be courteous out there, no matter where you are."

I blink. Her old tagline, that was.

"Nah," I brush off, "no thanks. I think I'll act however I want." I pause. "And probably stick a hand down a girl's shirt or two."

"Excellent idea, John," the principal said under louder sounds of 'shclicking' in the background, and more frenetic. "I love how you can dominate me and disregard my advice like that. I -- all of us at Towne High School are so proud of all your achievements, I hope you are aware of that."

"I know," I say. Probably sounded like some ego-inflated clown. Maybe I am. But I simultaneously mean and don't mean any of it. Once you are no longer held to a proper set of standards, no, once you are given the very controls to them, where does that place your humanity? It erases it of course. You are not quite as human as before.

Thanking me once more, in profuse measure, the principal ends the call in a state of incessant moaning and I put the phone back in my pocket. Stretching, I stand to my feet and look around. Some people litter the streets. More cars do. Looking at a newspaper, I grab it. I quickly read the front page news of the local new sports team scandal and out of humor, I change the headline. I look back down and blink.

It now reads:

"HAPPY CITY SWIMSUIT/UNDERWEAR DAY
In which, for all our wonderful denizens roaming between 1st and 6th street, you get to show off your smooth skin and fingerlicking curves to the world by getting your butt-riding swimsuit action on! Hope to see you there, surfing on sizzling pavement!"

When I look up, my efforts treat me to extensive eyecandy. Former ladies in business suits and men in ties and the large variety of young pedestrians, including several pretty females, now walked around in swim shorts and one-piece swimsuits, and a generous portion of bikinis. I note how more people are around. Probably because people like to look at people, particularly when clothes are letting buttcheeks and curvy hips out in the open to ogle. It is nice; makes the city feel like a beach metropolis.

Moving forward through the city, I leave the downtown district, (and thus, the men and women in swimsuits and tan-ready attire). After a few blocks, I end up in front of a phone booth by the corner of the intersection.

"Get your phones here! Up to 4 lines, all for a good price!"

The pair selling them consisted of a vocal young man and a bored-looking chestnut haired woman. I frown, and decide to help them attract more attenion by giving the detached lady an interesting new idea. A few seconds later, she sits up in her chair. She looks at the phones laid across the booth, then takes two and places them into her neckline. She makes sure they're visible from the outside, then straightens her hair and dusts off her pants. A few passersby walking by take longer pauses before proceeding. When she catches them looking, she smiles and pushes a breast forward, leaning one way and then another. Two college guys grinned and left with two new phones to add to their collection; they were relatively warmed up when they pocketed them.

Next, I walk through a green light, and all the cars gently come to a stop before me. The smell of smog and pinch of rubber arraign the air. I have the female drivers all blow kisses at me, which I smile at ambivalently.

As I am about to reach the sidewalk, a woman in a convertible, one of the cars that were stopped, and a well-groomed, fit killer body pulls her sunglasses up to her head.

"Hey kid," she calls. I look back. She'd reached out to her door to open it, patting the empty seat next to her. "Wanna ride?"

I act surprised. But then nod.

The next second, I'm closing her door. Her plushy but firm seats feel nigh-liquid, at least compared to my sedan's. I look around. A baseball player bobblehead flashes a toothy smile by her drawn-in windshield, along with a variety of urban-girl accouterments, including a bundle of Hawaii necklaces, a set of wooden letters spelling out 'LOVE', and a pin from some place that I assume to be her work. It read, 'To The Employee With the Best Smile: Brenda Hopins!"

I look at her as the car pulls forward. She glances at me, and notices me ogling her. Smiling, she drifts a hand down to her thigh-baring shorts and pulls the lower hem up until it's displaying her whole right ass cheek. Her vivid, straight brown hair is tickled by the wind as she looks back at me. She turns to me. "Check out my ass. It's nice and meaty for someone of my figure, but it's not just the size that makes it good." She rubs her cheek, which she has protruding outward more effectively for me by leaning on her side. Then she smacks it, hard and primly. She makes sure to keep her eyes on the road as she speaks innocently. "It's also very firm."

I watch as it jiggles then stops. The skin is smooth enough to slide on, tender enough to melt my hand upon. Just the way I liked my cooking.

The woman pulls her shorts back down.

"You like women, don't you?" she inquires.

"Very much," I admit, providing the largest surprise of the past rush hour. She nods.

"And female asses?"

"Even better." She laughs at my unfiltered reply.

"By the way, I'm heading to work right now," she discloses. "But I just had to stop and pick you up when I saw you walking by. I hope you don't mind. I just think you're so cute." She grins at me, which makes her look even more attractive. And she's already quite attractive.

I hum, "Thanks." The car winds under a row of trees.

The gust of wind in my hair feels irrefutably nice.