Sally McMichael was sitting in the back row half asleep, the affect of listening to Billy Goats, a high school, legend twenty-two years ago, babble on and on about his boring life. He talked about his playing days Upover High, his great football career and his baseball career and his tracking career. He went to deep conversation about drug abuse and how he could have been more the auto repair guy if he would never gotten involved with cocaine. The guy went from legend to after school special in a span of twenty-two years, unbelievable and boring as hell to listen too.

Sally was eighteen years and hadn’t attended a class in three days. She supposed the good Lord was punishing by sending Billy Goats to class the day she finally decided to show up. She was an eighteen year old girl tired of wasting her life in school because she knew she would never get out of it. She was an eighteen year old sophomore who got ten credits in four years of schooling. The only thing she had to show for her four wasted years was a navy blue skirt and a white dress up shirt witch was the school uniform. Oh, and black dress up shoes and million pairs of awful looking navy blue socks. Sally learned to love the uniform she hadn’t so much four years ago. She even wears it when there is no school. She thinks it makes her look sexier then most girls who wear next to nothing on the weekends.

She wasn’t wearing any panties under her navy blue skirt, nor was she wearing a bra under her white dress up shirt. The fabric of these shirts have always made her nipples hard and she liked it like that. All the guys who sat close to her could see her red nipples sticking out of the shirt, and sometimes, on days the teacher in front wasn’t paying attention, she would unbutton her shirt and give the guys a better look. She loved to show off her body. And Sally loved to be satisfied. Every now and then she would stick her pen or pencil inside her, just so she could feel the pleasure she yearned for during a long school day.

When Billy Goats was done talking the bell rang. The boring bastard wasted an entire class period, fifty minutes talking about his pathetic life. It was finally over though. Off to lunch and then one more class and then there was home and evening of sex and fun.

(…)
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My husband and I were both 25 when we got married. We came from Northern Wisconsin so it was quite a shock when Kevin’s Company transferred him to Georgia. We moved to a suburb outside Atlanta and found ourselves a small one-bedroom apartment in a very nice complex while we looked for a house we liked.

It was a nice community filled with mostly young professionals who were starting out or passing through. We were on the backside of our building at the bottom of the stairwell. Our door opened up to a little landing that was shared with the apartment across the way. A small pond with ducks and lots of frogs was just past the landing. It was part of the landscaping and was surrounded by small walking paths. I liked to stop and watch the ducks build their nests when I got back from errands or the gym.

I didn’t know anyone; we’d only been there about 3 weeks. In fact I was really lonely. I’d thought about getting a job but Kevin told me that we would probably be moving again in 6 months so I said, “why bother”. Each day as Kevin left I’d go to the door and give him a kiss goodbye and then try and find something to keep myself busy until he came home 12 or 13 hours later.

Last Wednesday Kevin left very early. He had to go north of Atlanta so he was out the door by 5:30. I got up with him and followed him to the door. I kissed him goodbye, wished him luck and watched him go up the stairs to drive away.

OK, I thought, another day in this place. Maybe I’d go to the pool or just do some laundry. It was really hot even at that hour. Georgia in the summer back before air-conditioning must have sucked. I watched the sun beginning to poke its head up over the trees and watched my friends the ducks swimming around. I saw one that looked to be chasing a frog and walked over to the edge of the landing to get a closer look.

A warm breeze came along. Damn, I thought, even the wind is warm. Then I heard the bang. It took me a second to realize what it was. I spun around and my front door was closed. My stomach became all knotted and I swore out loud. I ran up to it and checked, yup, it was locked. Didn’t I feel like a jerk. OK, Kevin was gone, I didn’t know anyone and it was only 5:30 in the morning. What the hell do I do now? I paced around trying not to panic, or cry, and tried to decide what to do.

All right, I thought, I can’t exactly just walk around. I was still dressed in my short VS pink bathrobe and some pink tap pants. Kevin always liked this robe. He said it showed off my legs. I did have pretty good legs, guys used to tell me that my legs and my ass were my best qualities. My breasts were kind of small but as long as my husband liked them who cared.

I hadn’t even put my blond hair up in my normal ponytail, which kept me cooler. No shoes and it kept getting hotter. I was starting to sweat. I could feel the heat coming from the sun and the felt the water drip down my back as the robe began to stick to my skin.

I heard someone coming down the steps and turned around. It was the guy next door. His name was Samuel. He was about our age and must have been a lawyer or something. He was always immaculately dressed in a nice suit and had hours that were often as long as Kevin’s. He was never around. He must have just come back from an early morning run. His coal black skin was soaked with sweat. His sleeveless shirt clung to his body which I had to admit was very muscular. He stood about 6 foot and must have weighed about 195. He had what looked like a tattoo of what looked like an Omega on his arm.

“Problem?” he asked.

(…)
Read the rest of Locked Out (3,026 words)

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