By Adam Pepper
like the way she walks from the bar to her car, east to west swagger in her hips; I can't help but stare – all the guys do. I love the way she smells, when I have the nerve to get close. Sometimes I listen to her, talking to her friend with a cute snorty giggle. I love to hear her voice. She comes here every Friday, and every Friday I follow her to her car: A two-door sporty thing with a ribbon and tassels hanging from the mirror.
There's plenty of pretty girls here, but there's something in particular about her. There's something in particular, I don't know what it is. She doesn't know my name just yet. But I know in my heart: I've got to make her mine!
Most nights she leaves alone, but tonight she's leaving with him. He's everything I'm not: Strong and handsome. His hair has gel, his ears have diamonds and his arms have trendy, tribal tattoos.
I follow them to her place. She just met this guy, and yet his hands are all over her.
"Stop it!" I hear her say, but that cutesy giggle tells me she doesn't mean it.
He knows too, because he grabs her and carries her to the door. Suspended in his arms, she puts her key in the lock, and the two disappear inside.
Soon after, a light upstairs comes on, and I see her flawless silhouette.
"Come on up and climb me," Big Oak Tree, that runs along the side of her house says, in a tone so affable, I have to smile back and say, "Thank you, Big Oak Tree. I will."
"You can see everything from atop my branches," Big Oak Tree says.
Big Oak Tree is right. Once up in his hearty branches, I can see into her room with ease. They don't bother to dim the lights or close the blinds. They're too busy tearing off clothes while drooling on each other.
He removes her tube top, and I see how incredible her breasts are – even better than I imagined. As is her bottom half. Her legs are slender, but not too slender. Her hips are full and round, but not too full, nor too round. She is stunning... absolute perfection.
I cannot hear her through the closed window, but she yells something like, "Come get me, big daddy!"
"Fuck yeah!" he yells back, or something equally inarticulate. He is not perfection; he is far from it.
They don't use the bed, instead sinking towards the floor. His ass pops in and out of view, but I can't see her any longer.
"Thank you, Big Oak Tree," I say as I shimmy down.
"You're welcome. Come back soon."
"I will."
I walk down the alley beside her house and pass dented garbage cans.
"Hey! Look in here!" Tin Trashcan calls to me.
"Thank you, Tin Trashcan. I will."
Inside, I find used tampons and condoms. "Yuck!" I cry, about to walk away.
"No. Keep looking," Tin Trashcan insists.
So I keep searching for a morsel – any item from her life will do. I find a copy of her phone bill. "Karen," I say her first name aloud. "Karen," I repeat.
"Hello," she says when I call her the following day. "Hello?"
I don't know what to say. She hangs up, but I call back.
"Hello!"
Oh that bubbly voice, even when she's nervous. I've got to make her mine!
I love her. I need her. She'll love me. She'll need me. I love her. I need her! I know that I'm good for her!
There's something in particular about her, to you it may seem strange, but I'm back up Big Oak Tree, staring at her window, and today, Nice Window is open.
"Come closer," Nice Window says.
"Yeah, go closer," Big Oak Tree agrees.
"Yeah, she wants it!" Tin Trashcan adds.
"Yes, I want you," Karen says, wearing just bra and panties. "Come on up here big fella."
"Me?" I say. Could she really mean it?
"Yes, you," she laughs, but with me, not at me, like all the others do.
I climb higher. The branches are thinner, but still support me. I am at Nice Window, looking in at her, yet I hesitate.
"Go on," Big Oak Tree encourages.
"Yeah! She wants it." Tin Trashcan barks.
I've got to make her mine!
"Well?" she asks with a shrug, pressing her boobs together perfectly, "are you coming?"
"Sure!" I say, climbing through Nice Window.
She screams!
