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By Devil's Sugar (leroyking69@hotmail.com)


Can you really have a second chance with your first love?

One day when I was in the fifth grade we were told there would be a new girl in the school, and since this school was rather small (only about seveneight kids per room) the revelation was big news. The teacher said her name was Crystal, but since most of the students were going to a play that afternoon while her orientation would take place it seemed unlikely any of us would meet her yet. When we lined up to leave my classmates started whispering speculation about this new kid, and I tried to picture her in my head.

Try to understand this was before the days of Springer and Maury Povich; kids did not lose their virginity at twelve, boys and girls didn't really mingle and while the word sex got thrown around it was usually by the most clueless. So I wasn't prepared for her in the least.

It happened as we were headed through the boot room; I saw someone crouched, taking off her shoes. She turned her head up and for a moment the two of us locked eyes.

She looked about my age (a year older I found out later), long brown hair that dropped past her shoulders and green-grey eyes. I found myself stretching my head around farther to see her as I walked until the line took me past the outside doors.

I had written her off as just another classmate but once I saw her she occupied my mind the whole day and following weekend.

It turned out I wasn't the only one, all the other boys would talk about in their free time was her, and a friend named Curtis even showed me a piece of jewelry he intended to give her! She acted like she didn't notice the attention, in hindsight she probably knew very well the effect she had on us.

Any opportunities I had to be around her were to be seized at once, so when I could I hovered around her like a wasp around spilt ice cream. You're going to call me a stalker and I don't have an excuse, but I was one of a crowd of hangers-on and I know she enjoyed the attention sometimes.

As for whoever got her attention, well the lucky sonofabitch turned out to be Nolan. Even though he wore glasses he was still kind of a 'bad-boy'; until I met him it never occurred to me a guy could get his ear pierced without fear of being stuffed into a trashcan. I remember on an outing how animated a kid called Dominic got when he saw Crystal and Nolan kisshe told everybody, including me, as loud as he could.

Nolan and I had gotten along just fine, so when Dominic mentioned he and Crystal made the four-lip butterfly I was surprised to find myself wishing he'd been run over by a truck.

And I was young and stupid then (maybe even stupider than I would be in the later years, you know the ones I'm talking about), so I didn't really know what the hell had happened to me, and why it mattered so much that I be around Crystal. Back then I didn't know what lovers did after a kiss, and the word fuck was some abstract thing that saying would make Eddie Murphy a cool million but send me to the wall.

Of course to Crystal I was just a friend. "Just friends"two words that have broken young boys hearts since the dawn of ages; at that point I think I figured being just a friend was better than nuthin'.

Finally the fifth grade ended, everyone went their separate ways. It took a couple of years before she stopped monopolizing my waking mind. I grew up, left the parents' nest and started a shaky career as a freelance writer. Staring at the computer screen, typing in a hunt-and-peck fashion night after night. Lot of times at dawn my roommate Ian would return from a night of partying to see me working on the same article I was doing when he left.

One night I miraculously finished early and had no deadline to meet. Hearing me exclaim this joy Ian threw my jacket at me and said he was taking me out of the loft.

"Ian we've been through this before; I'd be a dead weight," but he wouldn't let it go; almost bodily dragging me with him.

Sure enough, while Ian was dancing and laughing I was standing in the corner nursing a punch. Ian makes mingling look easy, when a brunette out nowhere approached him he had no trouble talking to her. For a second it looked like she was pointing in my direction, but in my experience that usually meant the girl was looking at someone else close by.

Like I said I felt I was just taking up space, just when I made up my mind to leave I heard a woman's voice, "Elvis is leaving the building", in a somewhat sarcastic tone.

I turned around; the brunette that approached Ian was a couple steps away. I looked around me just to make sure she was addressing to me, that irritated her a bit if the glare she shot was any indication "Yes I'm talking to you, does that never happen or something?"

"No, not usually." I tried to smile, "I'm out of my element at parties; I always end up feeling like Tweety in a room full of Puddy Tats."

That got a laugh out of her, "You didn't use to be that clever."

"Use to? When had you heard me before?"

"Yeah, Glenn's Rose Elementary."

I ran through my head all the people I could think of from then until it hit me, "No fucking way!"

"Fuck yes," she shook her head, "I can see you're still the stimulating conversationalist you were then."

Ouch. "Uh huh, if you remember me then, I'm surprised you recognize me now."

Crystal shrugged, "I don't recall seeing you with glasses."

"It'd have been strange if you did, I didn't start wearing them till I was eighteen."

"Is that when the beer gut showed up?" She lightly slapped me on the stomach.

"Pretty much, more like a burger and fries gut actually." I stretched my shirt a bit to hide the spare tire.

Crystal shook her head with a smile, "Ah. Well seeing as you were just about to leave, where were you headed?"

"Oh probably to the loft, get something done."

""Why don't I come with, at least you'll look like you're leaving with someone."

"Yeah, a hostage."

To teens a loft has a sort of romantic aura, a sign they're going places. My loft is a dump, except it's too barren to be a dump. No insulation or flooring, one big room where the beds are separated from the rest (and each other) by cubicle walls. When the yahoos come out at night drinking, fighting and hollering you can hear it all. The nearest bathroom is on the floor below and on seeing it you might not have to go so bad.

"Welcome to my Castle," I steeped back and let her through the door, "Is it everything you dread?"

"Count your blessings," Crystal took off her jacket, then noticing there was no place to hang it up threw it over her shoulder, "Least it's your own space, I had to move back in with my parents."

"Ouch. Well I guess it's never so bad it can't get worse," I walked over to the fridge and got two Pepsis and a Johnny Walker; "There're some glasses in the big box to your right" I called out.

We sat on the floor; I downed the first glass and my face contorted, "Whoever said whisky is the water of life never touched a drop."

Crystal didn't look much better from her glass, "So what have you been up to thehow long ago was it?"

"I'm not sure, ten years at least. And I spent most of them as a wallflower pretty much. What about you?"

"Oh, nothing really remarkable. I'm in university now, I'll be taking an internship in Paris right soon."

Damn. "Then I guess it's good Ian dragged me to the party tonight or this reunion might have never happened," I raised my second whisky as a toast, "Well, I hope you think you think of me in the city of lights."

"Tell you what, if I don't find a man among the frenchies you will be in my thoughts during my vibrator sessions."

"Uh-huhhh," Was I supposed to be flattered; even now I'm not sure.

Crystal finished her third drink, "So which one's your bed?"

"The one near the window. I keep it closed ever since some guy on the street threw a soiled underwear through it."

"I really didn't need to know that," but she fearlessly walked me toward the 'room', removing an article of clothing with each couple of steps. By the time she got to the bed there was nothing left to remove.

Then it was my turn, my stomach; hell my whole digestive tract including the gullet was bunched up in knots, she deserved better than what was under my clothes. A LOT better, "Uh, you might want a blindfold for this."

"Quit stalling," She had the kind of smirk usually reserved for patrons of the Moulin Rouge, "Out of them. Now."

I kept my eyes closed, thinking I'll never holler at strippers to take it off again, I felt so embarrassed. Once all that was left were the socks she stepped closer and put a hand on my 'beer gut', "Now that wasn't so hard, was it?"

I sat on the bed; more like my legs buckled and my ass fell on the bed, Crystal knelt behind me on the mattress and started to rub my shoulders. She also started nuzzling the back of my neck; somehow I was able to relax and, at the risk of being vulgar I 'stood to attention'.

I turned around and gave Crystal a kiss. Not a tongue kiss, I was too freaked out to try that; but she didn't have any reservations, she slipped her tongue between my lips and so far down she probably could have known what my last meal was, all the while laying back on the mattress and pulling me with her.

She did most of the work, pulling me forward; a lot of it is a blur really. I remember most of the time; it felt like forever, we hadn't broken the lip lock. Probably the only reason that sunk in was when she pulled back her tongue, threw her head back and just moaned. That was enough to bring me to the brink.

The next thing I know it was noon and the sun lanced into my eyes. I half-assed got up, and realized I was alone! At first I thought it'd been a dream, until I found her bra. I picked it up, thinking it kind of strange she'd forget to put it on, but she hadn't forgottenwritten on the bra in lipstick was a little goodbye,

'Didn't have the heart to wake you. I just wanted you to know I had a great time last night, in case we never saw each other again. If you're ever in Paris, look me up before you leave, I'll be the one who shaves her armpits. Crystal.'

The door was kicked open, Ian straggled in so loaded I was surprised he could stand upright, "You know, I ran into the hottest chick last night, and she kept asking me about You! You lucky turd, I'll bet you left without even talking to her."

"Actually I did talk to her. And more." I showed him the memento she left.

"You brought her HERE? To this dump? What the hell were you thinking?"

"Well it ain't like I got a suite reserved at the Ritz." I snapped.

Ian just shrugged and then started to hit me up for details I didn't really want to share, at least not with a drunken prick. He finally got tired of my dirty looks, "You know, maybe you wanna write about her, I know a website that eats this shit right up!

What??