The high school slut was looking at me

It took only a second for me to recognize her at the
other end of the bar, because she looked the same,
even though I hadn’t seen her for 20 years.

I felt a stirring at my crotch, and it made me laugh
to myself. Catherine was turning me on as if I were
still a pimply teenager. I had aged a lot more than
she had, and I wondered if she recognized me. She was
with a large, well-built young man.

As I looked at her, I daydreamed. I had never hooked
up with her, although I had wanted to. And from my
conversations with her, she had, too. She was probably
the most beautiful girl in school, as well as the most
developed. And she was insatiable at a time when most
girls were scared of sex.

She was notorious for offering herself to every boy
who crossed her path. She didn’t seem to discriminate
by race or looks, although I heard that she did turn
down bullies and conceited rich guys.

And the funny thing was that while the girls hated
her, all of the guys treated her with respect. The
ones who had been with her told me that she was
incredible and they were always ready whenever she
would summon them. I noticed none of them ever put her
down or made fun of her.

Why didn’t I ever get together with her? I guess it
was because I was just too busy with advanced
placement classes and extra science projects. Several
times she had made an overture, but something
interfered each time.

I saw she was still looking at me. She had certainly
held up well. I would jump at the chance to take her
to bed, except it was too late. I was happily married,
and even though I was out of town at a hotel where
nobody knew me, I would never cheat on my wife. Not
that I didn’t fantasize. After a day packed with
meetings, I usually ended up at the bar for a drink
before I turned in. I saw a lot of beautiful women,
most of them probably hookers, and I imagined things,
but I never approached anyone. I was polite but not
encouraging to the ones who approached me.

I saw Catherine and her friend get up. They were
walking toward me. I smiled at her. “Hi Catherine,” I
said.

“Hi Ronnie,” she said. “How are you?”

“Great,” I said. “And you?”

“I’m fine. This is my friend, Harold. I was telling
him that we were friends in high school, and I wanted
to hook up with you, but we never did.”

“Why didn’t we?” I said. “I wanted to also, but it
never happened. I’m sorry for talking like this in
front of you, Harold.”

“Oh, don’t worry,” he said. “I’ve heard all about high
school from Catherine and other classmates she runs
into. I don’t know how she ever graduated because all
her homework time was spent in bed.”

Catherine laughed. “I have to admit I was a real
slut,” she said. “Did you ever wonder why, Ronnie?”

“Yes, and all the other guys did too, because you were
such a classy looking girl. Now that I’m not so
stupid, I’m sure there was a sad story at home behind
what you did, even though you always seemed so
positive and happy.”

“The strange thing is that I wasn’t abused or raped or
anything like that,” she said. “My family was as
American as apple pie, and my brother and sister were
just like all the other kids. But for some reason, sex
education in seventh grade really turned me on, and I
started experimenting. And then I couldn’t get enough
of it. I still can’t.”

“Do you live here?” I said, trying to change the
subject.

“No, I’m staying at the hotel and leaving tomorrow?
How about you?”

“Me too,” I said. “I’ve been in town making business
calls. It was an exhausting day and I better get to
bed. It was nice running into you. Let me buy you and
Harold a drink before I leave.”

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