School Daze
Martin Kane
A man reminisces of his school days, and of a sweet girl named Tanya.

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Author's note:

Anyone wishing to contact me may do so via the DtV messageboard for
Reader & Writers.  I invite anyone to send any comments, good or
bad.  I'm always interested in what other make of my little tales.

Copyright is mine.  I'd be flattered if anyone wanted to use this 
tale elsewhere, but please seek permission first.

---

I changed schools in the middle of the school year.  It was necessary 
to do it like that, my Dad had to relocate straight away or else he 
would lose the job he’d been offered.  They decided that I wouldn’t be
disrupted too much and besides, I’d not yet begun the all-important 
O-levels (or GCSEs as they are nowadays.)  I was just about to turn 
fourteen.  No one asked me my opinion. Though if they did, I doubt it 
would have changed matters much. I suppose my response was pretty 
obvious, wanting to stay with the familiar, with my friends and the 
house and town I’d known since I could first walk.

I arrived my first day at the huge and imposing building, at least 
three times as big as the school I had attended in my home town.  I 
was led to the classroom through a puzzle of corridors I’d never hope 
to memorise and felt my heart yammering painfully in my chest.

It has now been years since that moment, first entering that room, 
yet even now I can remember it clearly, just like is was yesterday to 
concede to the cliché.  The fear and the displacement, the dread of 
the new.  A thousand whirling thoughts in an overloaded brain.  The 
stress and trauma that children go through on a daily basis which 
adults normally seem blind to.

I can look back now and such insecurity seems childish, but then, I 
was still a child in many ways, though well into that uncomfortable 
period of transition.  It may seem childish, but I can appreciate 
still, how difficult these things are, and I still recall what it 
felt like to be there.

I was led into that room feeling a combination of horror and resigned 
but despairing acceptance.  Thirty faces turned to look into mine and 
I felt nauseous.  I felt paraded as the teacher stood and led me to 
the front.  She stood behind me, hands on my shoulders, speaking to 
the class and introducing me to them.

She was a tall woman.  Striking, especially due to her attire, a 
short PE skirt, a sports top that adhered closely to an athletic but 
shapely figure.  Blonde hair was tied into a high neat ponytail.  I 
think I blushed when I saw her for the first time, trying not to 
stare at her body.

Her name was Miss Scall and, unsurprisingly enough, she was the 
fantasy figure of just about every schoolboy there, probably a few of 
the male teachers too.  She carried this off with ease, an arrogant 
confidence possessed by naturally beautiful people.  In fact, most of 
the time she appeared indifferent to it, or as though she were 
totally unaware of the effect her face and body, so clad, had upon 
every heterosexual male to gaze upon her.

Despite this, and despite my immediate embarrassment upon first 
seeing her, then being touched, albeit lightly and innocently, by 
this woman, my reaction to her that first time was not erotic, I was 
too panicked.

She made me tell the class about myself, who I was and where I had 
moved from.  She asked a few chatty questions, having to prompt me 
for replies.  If she was aware of how painful this was for me, how 
uncomfortable I was, standing there being glared at by a group of 
intimidating teenagers, she didn’t take pity on me.  We played the 
ritual out and she finally dismissed me, to sit down at a free desk.

I sat at the first empty seat, a boy my age, with dark, callous eyes, 
next to me.  His name was Simon and he remained completely 
indifferent to me.  It was a state he retained until I had settled 
into the school, finding my natural place in the scheme of things.  
Only when I had established myself within the complex social strata 
of the schoolroom did he feel confident enough to interact with me in 
any way.  Given this, it was quite natural that, when I was 
established, we had little to do with one another.

Anyway, Simon was the first guy I met at school and, given that I 
didn’t take to him at all, it was a good analogy for how things were 
to turn out for me in the school.

He kind of nodded to me then turned away, making conversation with 
others, quite deliberately blanking me out.

I felt a slap on my arm and shuddered despite myself.  However, when 
I turned it was towards a kinder face, John.

"Don’t worry about him, he’s just a moody bastard.  I’m John."

I smiled, made some polite response.  He introduced me to a couple of 
guys sitting near him, asked a few standard questions.

Miss Scall approached, handed me a timetable for my lessons.  The 
guys grew silent as she walked up and then watched her bum, skirt 
swishing rhythmically with her hips as she departed.

"God she’s horny," Gary sighed.  He was sitting next to John.  He 
turned conspiratorially to me, "You’re lucky you got into her class, 
she is without a doubt the most fuckable teacher here."

Doubtless true, I thought at the time.  And indeed it turned out to 
be so.

The school was organised so that the registration classes stick 
together for most of the time through lessons.  Maths, English, 
Science and French we were split and mixed with the other classes of 
the year to be separated into levels according to ability.  
Everything else, the class stayed together.

I stuck with John who happily assigned himself as my guide.  The day 
progressed painfully but I coped in the manner that thousands of 
children do on a regular basis.

It was in the afternoon that I saw Tanya for the first time.  No, 
technically that’s untrue.  She was in my class so I had seen her as 
I had seen all peers.  It was only that afternoon that I particularly 
noticed her.

It was in science.  John was in another group so I had stuck with 
Gary.  I sat next to him on the long lab benches that comprised of 
school science labs.  I saw Tanya from a distance.  She was fairly 
pretty, long brown hair.  But that isn’t what held my attention.

She was playfully arm-wrestling with the girl next to her.  I say 
playfully because it’s obvious they weren’t serious, Tanya was 
blatantly way too strong for her friend, a girl named Shelley.  The 
other girl had both hands around Tanya’s and was trying without 
success to budge her arm an inch.  Her excessive strength was evident 
from the peaked biceps muscle bulging from her arm.

I’d never seen muscles like that on a guy, yet alone a girl.  It 
shocked me and thrilled me in equal measure.

Tanya saw me staring at her.  She threw a look that said ‘what the 
fuck are you staring at?’ and I looked away, reddening.  The lesson 
began and their outmatched contest ended.

I couldn’t help myself, throughout the lesson I stole surreptitious 
glances at her, hoping to see those wondrous muscles again.  Her 
blouse was short-sleeved but the sleeves were loose and came down as 
far as her elbow.  Some of the times she caught my looks, sometimes 
she didn’t.

At the first available opportunity she stood and walked over.  It was 
as soon as we began a simple experiment involving heating one 
compound with another; it permitted us to move freely about the lab.

Tanya walked straight up to me.  "You keep staring at me," she stated 
bluntly.

I stuttered, embarrassed.  I wanted to say something bright and 
witty.  I didn’t.  "I didn’t mean to," I murmured.

"Fucking don’t," she hissed, "Or I’ll give you a fucking slapping."

Then she left.  I felt like the whole room was staring though, in 
truth only a few had noticed.

"Stay away from her," Gary warned me.  "She’s a right bitch.  And she 
ain’t kidding either, she’ll give you a right smack if she feels like 
it."

I could see his warning was sincere, Tanya was considered to be 
someone not to be messed with.  I could easily believe this to be 
true.

I got home that evening, passed by my mother and went straight to my 
room.  I stripped off the clothes, the uniform, and lay on my bed in 
my underwear.  I was glad to be home.  I had survived the thing I was 
dreading and I knew that it would probably be one of the hardest days 
at school I’d ever have to do.

I pulled on some casual clothes and got a drink of coke.  I picked up 
the novel I was reading, Salem’s Lot by Stephen King.  I wasn’t 
especially bookish, but had recently discovered a solace in pulp 
horror.  Maybe it was the confrontation and defeat of evil that 
appealed, the struggle to overcome adversity.  Maybe it was simply 
that the fantastical elements of extreme horror helped dilute the 
more mundane adversities of my own life.  Whatever the reasons may 
be, I’ll avoid the pop psychology.  I didn’t think to question why I 
began reading as I entered adolescence, I only know that I could lose 
myself within the pages and forget about my own problems for a while.

However, this time I couldn’t focus on the goings on of some small 
town under siege by vampires.  My mind kept drifting back to Tanya 
and her fantastic biceps.  Despite her hostility towards me, the 
second I saw those arms, I was completely smitten.

I’ve been a fan of strong women for as far back as I can remember, 
it’s just something that’s always appealed to me.  When I was maybe 
nine or ten, I saw a female bodybuilder on television and my life 
changed from that point onwards.  It was some dumb talk show, I can’t 
even remember what or even who hosted it.  It was the kind of show 
that was on three times a week, and so, quite naturally, they ran the 
mill on every guest conceivable.  One of the researches must have 
been stuck for ideas and decided to try something to appeal to 
audience curiosity.  Most of them had probably never seen a woman 
with muscles before, I know I certainly hadn’t.

She came on wearing a long robe, covering her completely.  The host 
said hello and all the normal crap, then finally, teasingly revealed 
why she was so unusual, made a couple of glib jokes, and then 
prompted her to make the grand unveiling.

I remember sitting glued to the set, my heart thumping like never 
before in my chest.  She stood, and when she dropped that robe, I 
thought I’d die.

In truth, she wasn’t even particularly muscular, certainly nothing 
like the incredibly built women of today.  In fact, one of today’s 
average fitness competitors would probably be more developed.  But 
that doesn’t change the impact it had upon me.

The point was, she was a woman and she had genuine muscle, and that 
was something I’d never experienced before in any way shape or form.  
You could see her biceps flex, her abs ripple, her back rip, her 
thighs shred.

Throughout my childhood I’d yearned for a suitable fantasy figure to 
glut my desires upon.  Wonder Woman was as close as it came, a weekly 
dose of super-strong female action, beating up bad guys and lifting 
up the backs of cars.

Whenever I lay back in bed at night, fading into sleep, it was either 
Wonder Woman who filled my thoughts, playing out long and elaborate 
adventures, or the bodybuilder from the talk show.  When I was young, 
there was depressingly little material to fuel the fires of my 
fantasies, but I made the most of what I had, letting my imagination 
elaborate on those tiny embers.

Then I met Tanya, and I knew my life would never be quite the same 
again.

It didn’t take long to settle into the daily pace at school, these 
things finding their natural order.  Given that most of the time, the 
class spent lessons together, it didn’t take long to get to know all 
those around me.  The following year, once each pupil had chosen 
their particular lessons, the class would be split and mixed with 
others in that year, group.  I would have to go through the process 
of meeting and settling with new people again.  That didn’t bother me 
however, by that time I’d be so used to the school it’d be like I’d 
always gone there.  And besides, a year is a long time at that age.

The class had its natural cliques and groupings, mostly collected 
together through like-minds.  I found my ease within those I’d met my 
first day, John, Gary and their friends.  I was absorbed into the 
group.

A suppose I was a fairly sensitive child, at that age, probably over-
protected by my parents, despite the slight restrained coldness I 
also inherited from them both.  An only child, I was a little spoiled 
too.  I was fairly intelligent but not especially scholarly.  I could 
do the work presented to me quite easily, and so I did so, without 
flourish or particular effort.  I was also fairly indifferent to the 
work, apathy being my response to most things in this new school.

I also had instilled into me a patented fear of the big city, a 
neurosis it took a long time to rid myself off - well into my 
twenties in fact.  (Cue Philip Larkin quote as desired.)  We’d moved 
from the country into a city where the accents were different, where 
I didn’t know all the slang, where I had no friends, only immediate 
family and knew nothing of the surrounding area.  My parents forced 
upon me an almost paranoid awareness of potential crime.  Never to 
leave the house unlocked or windows opened.  My bike was to be kept 
secured at all times.  I wasn’t allowed to be outside when it got 
dark.  I was to avoid back alleys or unfamiliar side streets.

There was a general roughness and danger to the area that we had 
moved to, higher poverty and unemployment levels and higher crime 
figures.  I became aware for the first time in my life of a general 
depression that could settle around urban places.  A dark and dingy 
sense that seems to swamp and thus taint every stack of rubbish, 
every graffitied wall, every highly condensed mass-housing project.

My grades fell a little after the move, but they levelled out.  In 
all, it was a basic balance struck between my easy comprehension of 
what I was taught, and my indifference to the work itself.  What with 
the occasional missing school through truancy (something I’d never 
done previously) and the distraction of spats of bullying, my grades 
settled on an easy average.  Nothing to be too worried about in all, 
but most people knew I could do better if I really tried.  Myself 
included.

I wouldn’t say I was particularly bullied.  I had to suffer a little 
of the standard intimidation from those stronger or more aggressive 
than me, but that’s the status quo of school life.  I wasn’t 
especially picked on, or singled out for notable torture.

I found an uneasy peace and place for myself in the school.  I made 
friends and learnt who to avoid and how best to do so.

However, I made an effort to find out more about Tanya as quickly as 
possible.

It was my second day that I quizzed John, sitting next to him in 
Geography.  He grinned.

"I heard about Science yesterday," he said.  "Gary’s right.  You 
shouldn’t piss her off, she’s not the type of person you want to piss 
off.  Even if she doesn’t start on you, she hangs out with Lee and 
his crowd, and he will."

Lee was the class bad guy.  Not too dumb as convention normally 
dictates, but a hard guy, vicious and aggressive.  He’s the one you 
don’t mess with, the overly confident kid who holds social rule 
through intimidation and aspiration.

"She’s really strong," I said, mentioning it as though in passing, 
not wanting to let on that this particular fact had my heart drumming 
like a 16-beat.

"Yeah," John agreed carelessly.  "She used to be into all this 
gymnastics and shit when she was a kid.  Now she does a load of 
athletics, running for the school.  She’s really fast."

It appeared that everyone was well aware of Tanya’s particular 
talents, but were used to the fact enough that it no longer stuck 
them as unusual or extraordinary.

It was later that same day, my first Maths lesson.  Maths was another 
subject where the class was split and mixed to group skill levels 
together.  I was put in a group away from the rest of the clique I’d 
been hanging with.

The teacher asked me a few questions while the rest of the class took 
their seats.  He checked the calculator I had, issued me with a 
textbook, then waved me over to find a seat.

Tables were pushed together to make small squares of four pupils, 
scattered around the room.  There were a few desks with free spaces, 
Tanya sat at a desk of only three kids.  I headed over there, 
compelled despite her previous warning.  She saw me and placed her 
hand threateningly on the free space, clearly blocking it.  Her eyes 
promised wrath.

I made as though I hadn’t even intended to sit there, walking past 
her desk to the next table, which also had a free seat.  On the plus 
side, I was still close to her.  It was my sincere hope to repair the 
breach of our poor introduction.  And, should I happen to catch a 
surreptitious glance at her fantastic muscles, then so much the 
better.

She blanked me throughout the lesson.  The other kids on the table 
she sat at were friendly, introducing themselves and asking me about 
where I’d moved from and my old school.  If they noticed Tanya’s 
coldness they said nothing of it.  They discovered I had a natural 
head for numbers, impressed by my mental manipulations.  Tanya 
grudging joined the chatting but only when prompted.

I decided I’d give it time.

My real breakthrough with Tanya came a few weeks in.  It was during 
drama class.  I enjoyed drama, despite my naturally introverted 
nature.  No, actually let me amend that, I enjoyed it because of my 
nature, not despite it.  I always loved to think myself into the head 
of whatever character I portrayed, exploring dark impulses, 
portraying emotions through quirks of actions or body-language.  I 
also have a habit of improvising, which is unpopular amongst the kids 
I’m performing with; when playing our little set in front of the rest 
of the class and I start acting outside the set patterns.  It’s a 
habit that’s got me into more than a few arguments over the years.

This particular lesson, we’d been assigned groups by the teacher, who 
placed me into the same group as Tanya, to my delight though not to 
hers.  I was already established as a fairly quiet kid generally, and 
not yet had a chance to shine in our weekly exhibitionist class.

Naturally confident and powerful, Tanya began throwing ideas and 
commands about the piece of drama we’d been set.  No one in the group 
contradicted her.  Our brief was to portray a split within a family 
group.  It was my idea to avoid the obvious kitchen sink drama and 
make our family group more of a substitute family unit.

We settled on an army unit.  Tanya was group commander.  The others 
in our group were disposable extras to either be killed in the ambush 
and lie dead on the floor or survive to escape, leaving Tanya centre 
stage with me, as the dying soldier having to be left behind so that 
the others can get away.

Tanya loved to show off, prancing around with gutsiness and self-
possession.  Our dramatic scene ended with her having dismissed the 
others and deciding whether to stay behind with the dying soldier or 
abandon him.

My muse flooded my mind with ideas, as it is wont to do, only when we 
were midway through performance.  I was laid out, my legs folded 
beneath me.  I took the chance, ad-libbing to complicate our final 
dialogue, drawing the arguments and horror of the situation out into 
melodrama.

Tanya picked up on it straight away, going with my direction and 
burying herself in character.  She fed off my leads, bathing in the 
pathos and brutality of futile war.

We changed the ending, almost by an unconscious communication between 
us.  I was not to be simply left to die, but should suffer a mercy 
killing at the hands of my commanding officer.  And she played the 
dilemma well, truly torn, pained by this trauma.

She pressed her gun against my forehead, (her finger actually but go 
with it.)  She didn’t just shoot, like most performers would have, 
but drew the moment out, weeping with the horror, trying to work up 
the necessary mettle.  If there were a movie camera present, she’d be 
milking it.

Then she changed tack, touching my face with such tenderness.  She 
was beside me, embracing me.  It was a truly touching moment.  Not 
least for me because her gorgeous, lithe little body pressed against 
me, lean muscles taut, discernibly hard even through the layers of 
our clothing.

Her arm was about my neck, then tenderness changed to hardness, her 
embrace became an assault.  She broke my neck, twisting my head 
around to snap the bone.  I collapsed, dead.  She disentangled 
herself from me, and made her way over to join her squad.

Even our teacher applauded.  Tanya’s stern and depressed decorum 
evaporated and was replaced by giddy pleasure.  She giggled and 
curtsied.

We sat with the rest of the class as the next group took their turn.  
Tanya chose to sit besides me, whispering to me.  

"That was so cool," she enthused.  "I had no idea you could do that.  
You can really act."

"Thanks," I said.  "You’re pretty hot yourself."

She grinned.  "Oh, we try."

"I’m sorry for going off the script like that, I just had the idea 
and went with it."

"No, it was great.  I should apologise, not you.  I didn’t hurt you 
did I?"

It’s true, she’d been rough with me, wanting to make the final act as 
gritty and violent as possible.  But the feeling of her gorgeous 
bicep digging into my neck more than made up for any discomfort.  
Needless to say, the memory of that particular intimacy has been one 
of my most treasured until this day.  It was certainly the face that 
fuelled a thousand fantasies.

Tanya was a school champion, running being the best of her many 
sporting talents.  At one time she represented the county in the 
under-twelve’s sprint, making a speed record that, to my knowledge 
has yet to be beaten.

When I knew her, she was just running for the school, winning medals 
and trophies at various locally sponsored events.

I went to one race she was in.  It was an after school event, several 
in the area sending their best to compete in different athletics 
events.

It wasn’t a part of the school curriculum, the only ones attending 
were those who were actually taking part.  There was no organised 
transport or anything, it was strictly a voluntary attendance.  In 
fact, you’d only have known about it if you were competing or if you 
actually paid attention to the limited notices at school assembly.  
Or indeed, if you had a major crush on one of the competitors.

I found the sports track on the map, found which bus I’d need to get 
there and arrived in plenty of time.  Hundreds of people I’d never 
met were milling around, all looking like they knew what they were 
doing and what was going on.  I guessed most were proud parents and 
reluctant siblings.

I wandered aimlessly, feeling lost and self-conscious.  Still I was 
here with purpose and intention, to cheer on my beloved.  I found out 
when her race was due, the 1000 metres.

A heavy hand fell onto my shoulder and spun me roughly around.  Lee 
was staring at me, dark eyes hard and cruel.

"What you doing here?" he demanded.  "You come to see Tanya run?"

"Yeah," I said, not sure what else to say.

Lee smiled.  "Shit, nice one, man.  I ain’t seen no one else from 
school.  You?"

"No," I told him.  "I thought I was the only one here actually."

He stood besides me leaning on the rail.  "I always try and attend 
when she’s running.  You know, least we can do.  Always pisses me off 
that no one else bothers."

We chatted easily, like friends almost, as though the normal 
animosity of our relationship was a world away.  The fact that he’d 
normally as likely lay me out as say hello seemed forgotten.  For the 
first time, my opinion of him, normally indifferent scorn, melted and 
I began to understand a little why people wanted to be close to him.

He had an easy cool, a relaxed charm.  There was something seductive 
about his slick confidence.  It was doubtless partially an act, but 
it was one that served him well.  And if it was an act, he was 
playing the role of someone he aspired to be.

Tanya came out, stripping off her tracksuit and waiting by the line 
with a few other girls.  She was too far away to leer at, but her 
running vest and shorts exposed more of her flesh than I’d ever hope 
to see.

Announcements were made over the tannoy.  The girls settled onto the 
blocks and the starter set them off.  They exploded into action, six 
teenagers each running faster than anyone I’d ever seen in the flesh.

Tanya hit an early lead and I was joining the cheer around me, 
shouting her on.  The track led past where we stood and she 
approached.  I saw her face, scrunched with fury and determination.  
I saw her muscles working beneath her skin, pumping her body further 
and faster.  She shot past in a blur, followed closely by the others.

She won, by quite a margin, outclassing the other competitors but 
still giving it all her worth.

We were shouting and cheering, my throat sore.  I turned to Lee to 
see my own overjoyed exuberance mirrored on his face.  We high-fived.

"Come on," he said, "let’s say hi," and he headed off towards the 
finishing line.  Surprised by this turn-up I followed.

Tanya was leant over, hands on thighs, catching her breath.  She was 
glowing, awash with sweat, but grinned when she saw us.

"You were great," Lee told her.  She nodded thanks, too winded to 
want to speak yet.

She saw me and smiled at me.  "Oh, hey.  Thanks for coming."

"No problem.  Lee’s right, you were fucking amazing."

Her parents had come over, and she exchanged an amused look with me 
as I realised they’d heard my obscenity.

"Hi Lee," her father said.  "Good of you to come along."

Tanya introduced me, "he’s new into town," she said and she went on 
to recite a few details that shocked and flattered me that she 
should have retained.

She was recovered, leaning back to glug at a bottle of water.  I saw 
her arm muscles flex as she did this, well pumped from her race.  I 
don’t know whether she noticed my lechery but she didn’t react 
against it if she did.

"I want to introduce you to someone," she said.

"OK," I agreed happily enough, turning to Lee, who was chatting to 
Tanya’s parents.

"Oh, leave him, he’s busy charming the folks," she told me, taking me 
by the hand to drag me off to one side.

"This is my cousin Dawn," she said.

Dawn was a tall woman, early twenties, pretty, broad shoulders, hair 
in a black, butch cut.

"She’s my hero," Tanya said.  Dawn laughed, transforming her stern 
countenance into a sweeter, gentler one.  "She’s the reason I’m so 
into athletics.  We used to train together when I was little.  I owe 
it all to her."


"She’s flattering me," Dawn laughed.  "I’ve never been as 
accomplished as Tanya could be.  As Tanya’s going to be."

"Show him your arms," Tanya said, like an excited kid.  She was 
tugging at her cousin’s sweater, urging her on.

Dawn rolled her eyes, half-embarrassed but still happy enough to 
comply.

My heart was thumping hard as she lifted the sweater, tugging her arm 
from the close sleeve.  She folded the wool over her shoulder, 
clearing her arm to pose, a biceps flex that hit a peak as big as my 
fist.

Both women read my expression with amusement.  "Either he’s impressed 
or he’s just been bitten by a snake," Dawn said.

Tanya reached over and closed my mouth, pressing my jaw up with a 
decisive click.

"You’ll let in the flies," she told me.

"Sorry," I murmured.  "I’ve just never seen anything like that 
before."  I shook my head in awe, eyes still locked on her pumped 
bicep.  "Wow."  It was all I could think to say but expressive 
enough.

She finally broke the spell, retracting the arm and sheathing it once 
more out of sight.  

With the sweater on again, she looked just like any normal woman, no 
hint of the fantastic wonders held at bay beneath.

My fantasy life had just taken another huge turn.  Some things can’t 
be unseen, they are burned into your retina and you can recall them in 
perfect detail every time you close your eyes.

I was half-afraid that Tanya would tell everyone at school about my 
meeting with Dawn.  It was always a fear of mine that my peers would 
discover my dirty little secret and mock me for the fetish.

Tanya however was too cool, it was an unfounded fear.  Besides, she 
was hardly the one to promote female muscle as freakish.

Though I’d made a breakthough with that particular clique, I still 
was not one of them.  I couldn’t hang out with them, be one of them.  
I had my place within the social hierarchy and knew better than to 
step out of it.  But even so, I knew there was an uneasy respect 
present now that had not been there previously.

I had been walking through the school during one lunch break when one 
of the teachers stopped me.  I thought he was going to scold me for 
being in the building during the lunch-hour.  My mind raced with 
potential excuses.  He didn’t however, instead asking me, "you’re in 
Shelly’s class aren’t you?"

"Yes, sir."

"Can you give her a message?  Ask her to come and see me quickly 
after this afternoon’s registration.  I’ll be in my room."

"Sure."

He looked at me then, quizzically.  "You know you’re not meant to be 
in the building?"

I fumbled for a response, concluding with a guilty, "yes, sir."

Shelly was a friend of Tanya’s.  There was no particular reason or 
need for me to seek her out to give her the message, I’d see her 
after lunch in registration.  However, any excuse.

I found her and Tanya on the skirting of the back fields, under one 
of the trees.  Shelly was eating a sandwich, chatting amiably while 
Tanya was doing an exhaustive set of sit-ups.

Her lean body powered, not pausing or slowing with the effort.  As I 
approached, I noticed that the bottom few buttons of her blouse were 
undone.  I could see a few inches of pale, muscular belly, rippling 
as she exercised.

I tried not to stare.  I failed.

Shelly looked at me, her eyes hard.  ‘What the fuck do you want?’ her
look seemed to demand.  She didn’t day anything however.

"Hi," Tanya said, finishing the set.  She stood and stretched.

"Hi-ya," I responded.  The sight of her had thrown me head into a
whirl and tied my tongue in knots.  She seemed to sense my awkwardness.

Suddenly she lifted the flap of loose blouse, showing me her stomach, 
the abs hard and round like cobblestones.

Again I tried not to stare.  Again I failed.

"Aww, he blushing," Shelly cooed, though without too much cruelty.

"So did you actually want anything or did you just come over here for 
cheap thrills?" Tanya asked.  She played it cool though, more amused 
by my behaviour than offended by it.

I delivered the message.  Then, still feeling awkward, I made to go.  
Some part of kicked in then however, not letting me depart like that.  
Instead I smiled at Tanya.  "You’re looking fantastic," I told her.

She smiled at this, an expression both sweet and knowing.  I left 
feeling a whole lot better.


I’ve always hated French.  This was something that did not change 
when I moved school.  In fact, it became worse.  I’d been placed in 
a higher group because the rest of my academic levels were pretty 
high.  My French teacher took an instant dislike to me and picked 
upon me constantly.  My Career in French ended there.

I rarely attended lessons and leaned little on the few occasions when 
I did.

The French lesson before lunch. On one occasion I’d slipped out the
school’s side gate unseen and headed down the road to the chip shop,
taking the opportunity to get there before the lunchtime rush.

A gang of half a dozen kids came in a little after me.  I turned to 
see Lee.


"Shouldn’t you be in school," he asked in a pseudo teacher voice.

"I could say the same about you," I countered.  I kept my voice cool 
but amicable.  He was with all his mates, and I didn’t know how 
friendly he would be.

"I fucking hate French" he said, ordering his own lunch.

Outside there were more of them, both girls and boys.  Tanya was 
amongst them.

"Lookee here what we found," Lee remarked.

"Ooo you rebel," she said, "cutting class, whatever next?"

One of the others sneered at me, a guy named Jamie.  "Yeah, what the 
fuck you doing out of school? I thought you were the perfect fucking 
student."

"Leave it," Lee warned, "he’s alright."  And with that, all hostility 
towards me ended.  Lee had decreed it so, and the others followed, as 
bidden.

I saw Tanya roll her eyes and realised she knew it too.  She didn’t 
say anything however.

Conversation continued as we wandered slowly to the park, sitting 
around on benches, eating chips.  I had been accepted within the 
group, though it was understood I was just a visitor here.

Tanya was bitching about another classmate, a girl name Lindsey.  
Lindsey was dumb and tarty, with a body to match.  She’d been the 
first girl to develop breasts and exploited the fact.  Insecurity can
make teenagers vindictive, and she was the perfect example of such.
Constantly in trouble due to her make-up or the length of her skirt.

I’d heard it told that their antagonism had developed into violence 
on a previous occasion.  Lindsey had become overly aggressive, 
perhaps believing her larger build to be a match for Tanya’s physical 
strength.  It had been a short fight by all accounts.  Lindsey got 
scratchy and slappy, trying to intimidate Tanya.  Tanya had warned 
her off, then floored her with one punch.

"I don’t know why you don’t just deck the bitch again," someone 
suggested.

"I’m tempted to.  I just don’t see why she can’t leave it.  I’ve never 
done shit to her.  I don’t know what her problem is."

"She’s jealous," I said.

"What do you know about it," Jamie hissed at me.  I shrugged.

"Why would she keep calling me flat-chested, or having a go at my 
body if she’s jealous of me?"

I shrugged again.  "She’s bordering on chubby.  I bet she has to 
watch her weight like a hawk."

"Yeah, most of it’s in her bra," someone else quipped.

"You scare her because you don’t look like her idea of perfection and 
yet you’re still completely at ease with that fact.  She’s jealous of 
your confidence and your strength.  Mental and emotional strength, I 
mean."

"I think he’s got a point," Lee said, referring to me, "In her head, 
a perfect body means big tits and whatever, your standard page-3 
bimbo.  Yet here you are, the complete opposite of that shit, and 
still sexy as hell. Don’t suppose she much likes the knowledge that
you can kick the shit out of her anytime you please, either."

Tanya grinned, blushing slightly.  She blew him a kiss jokingly.

That was when I began to wonder if there was anything between the two 
of them.  Certainly there was nothing in the usually rife rumour-
mill.  But they had a certain ease and intimacy between them, 
something I found myself envious of.

But it was then that I realised whether they were a couple or not, 
Lee was totally into her, just as besotted as I was.

Once the lunch was over, we all returned to school, we separated out, 
each going our own way.  I rejoined my own social group.  But it was 
something more than a sense of not belonging or being allowed within 
their clique.  It was an understanding on their part that I wasn’t 
just some hanger-on, not a pretender trying to be cool through proxy.
I think that garnered me a little respect from Lee.

It was true about Lindsey’s resentment of Tanya.  I was sitting at 
the same table as her during one lesson when she was badmouthing her.

"I mean, it’s no wonder she’s single, why would anyone want to go to 
bed with that?  All those muscles, can you imagine what the poor guy 
would think?  She is so ugly."

"She’s not ugly, she’s really pretty," I jumped in, surprising both 
of the girls and John who sat besides me.  "Her skin is totally 
perfect."

This was a cheap shot, Lindsey suffering a little from acne, not 
seriously but enough to make her hypersensitive about the fact.

"Who asked you?"

"I just don’t think she’s ugly," I said with a shrug.  "And if I was 
fat, I wouldn't start being bitchy about all the girls who were thinner 
than me."

That did it.  I was called some choice names then ignored.  John was 
pissed off at me for about a month afterwards for that comment.  He 
was considered guilty by association and she was pissed at him too.  
He had a major crush on Lindsey.  But then, so did most of the boys 
in the class, tits being as popular then as they are today.  And she 
knew it too.  It gave her a certain sexual confidence that bolstered 
her tartish front.

After that I was in her bad books, but that hardly broke my heart, 
after all, I was one of the few guys in the class who wasn’t in love 
with her, no matter how tight her skirts and blouses were.

One time I was sat in the classroom, when, prompted by some of her 
giggling friends, she sat right next to me.

"Hi," she cooed in ironic warmth.  "Did you have a girlfriend in your 
old school?"

"It was an all-boys school," I told her.

"Did you have a boy-friend then?"

One of her friends giggled at this.  I raised an eyebrow, and met 
her mocking expression.  "Fuck off Lindsey."

"Don’t be like that," she sighed in false hurt.  "I’m just being 
friendly."

"Tell me, does it take a lot of practise to get that balance between 
flirtation and caustic derision, or does it come naturally to someone 
as childish and sardonic as you?"  I kept it deadpan, wanting to 
imply a dry sense of superiority.

"Have you had many girlfriends then?" she asked, pushing her chest 
out, as if daring me to peek down into the unbuttoned canyon of her 
cleavage.  "Have you had any girlfriends at all?"


As it happened, I hadn’t.  But I wasn’t about to tell her that.  If I 
was going to win this, it would be through superior confidence, mine 
in scornful intelligence, and hers in sexual intimidation.

I don’t know how far Lindsey would have pushed it but I hadn't needed 
to find out.  At that point, Tanya strode up, pushing Lindsey hard, 
nearly throwing her out the chair.

"Piss off bitch."

"Ow, what the fuck is your problem?"

"Right now?  You."

Lindsey stood and huffed off, muttering obscenities, though careful 
to keep them so low, only her and her triad of friends could make 
them out.

"Thanks," I said.  "It would have been unseemly if I’d hit her."

"One good turn, and all that.  Anyway, you’re too much of a gentleman 
to hit a girl."

"Especially if she’s likely to hit me back."

Tanya winked and wandered off.

The ‘gentleman’ comment referred to another incident, a far more 
pleasurable one.  In the schoolyard we’d just been hanging, killing 
time.  Tanya and a couple of friends had wandered up and she’d 
singled me out, wanting to ask me about a maths test we’d both had.

She backed me against the wall, halfway between bullying and 
intimacy.  Instinctively, my hands came up as she closed on me.  She 
grabbed my wrists and wrenched my arms apart, slapping them against 
the wall either side of me, as though crucifying me against the wall.

The position spread her arms almost as wide as mine, making her body 
close to mine in order for her to hold me there.  I struggled to lift 
my hands off the wall but she truly was stronger than me, keeping me 
pinned with only a little effort.

"So what did you get in the test?" she asked me, her face incredibly
close to mine.  So close in fact, I could have leant my head forward,
darted out my tongue and licked her nose.

"Forty-two," I told her.

She snarled at me, "Forty-one," she said.  "One lousy mark."

Her grip on my wrists tightened and I winced appropriately.

"I could escape if I wanted to," I told her.

She raised her eyebrow, obviously doubtful.

"I just don’t want to that’s all."

"No?  I bet you don’t."

"I’m too much of a gentleman."

She leaned in close to me, her delicate bosom lightly brushing my 
chest.  Her cheek pressed against mine, her breath was hot against my 
ear.

I waited for her to say something, but instead, she leaned in and 
kissed the lobe of my ear, a sweet, innocent little peck.

She let me go, joined her friends and they all departed as though 
nothing had happened.  John and my friend joined me.

"What did you do to piss her off," John asked me.  "I told you to 
stay away from her, she can be nasty."

"I got I higher mark in a maths test."

"Why she pick on you though?  Bitch."

"She’s OK, I like her."

John shook his head.  "You’re playing with fire."

I guess John and some of the others did have reason to dislike Tanya 
and her friends.  Most of the time, the groups did not mix, like oil 
and water.  But when they did, it was unlikely for John to come out 
on top.

One time I remember, it was raining and so all students spent the 
lunch hour in the classrooms.  A group of us were playing cards, 
having shoved a few desks together as an extended card table.  About 
a seven or so were sat around.  People would come and go as we whiled 
away the wet weather.

Lee and his friends came in.  A few hackles were raised in case they 
tried to bust up the game for bored spite but they ignored us, 
sitting around in their own grouping.

Tanya and her friends came in too, joining the group.  Chatting, 
drinking cans of coke, eating sandwiches and crisps.  (Strictly 
forbidden in the classrooms.)

We weren’t paying them much attention but at some point, they began 
arm-wrestling each other.  My notice was only caught when Tanya 
decided to try.  She sat opposite a guy named Jamie, offering her 
hand.  Jamie was one of those annoying kids who thought he was hard, 
just because he hung around with the bad crowd.  He took the piss 
when he had the backing of his friends but kept his head down when he 
was alone.  In short, an irritating little tosser who you could never 
do anything about because of his friends.

This caught my interest however.  Tanya was trying to persuade him to 
arm wrestle.  He’d just been beaten by Lee, but this would be truly 
humiliating for him.  He pretty much point blank refused, saying he 
wasn’t going to fight against a girl.

"Scared of being beaten?" Tanya cooed.  "Come on, no fair.  I want a 
go."

"You arm-wrestle Carla," he suggested.

"I’ve already arm-wrestled her before.  Come on Jamie, prove what a 
man you are."

He saw me looking over. His face changed, turning nasty.  "Fuck you 
looking at?"

"I’m waiting to see her beat you," I told him, not what he wanted to 
hear.

Jamie turned to his friends.  "You want to see something funny.  
Let’s see Tanya against one of those geeks.  I bet she’d win as well.  
Come on."

The whole gang of them headed over.  I got the evil eye from John.  
This was evidently my fault again.  He would have been happy if 
they’d kept to their own half of the room without bothering us.

He turned around.  "We’re trying to play a game here," he hissed at 
Jamie.

"You a gambler?" Jamie said, a sneer in his voice.  "Well I bet 
she’ll beat you."

"I’m not going to arm-wrestle a girl," he said, using Jamie’s own 
excuse.  It didn’t work however, Jamie was far too intent.

Tanya shrugged and pushed a table aside to sit opposite John.  "You 
think you can beat me?" she asked him.

"I don’t know," he huffed, realising now that he wasn’t going to get 
out of this.  Tanya had no particular love for John and would happily 
humiliate him.

Lee stepped forward and positioned their arms, taking John's and 
holding his hand, placing Tanya’s within it.  He counted down and 
released.

Both of them began pushing.  I’ll admit it, my attention was focused 
on Tanya’s arm.  Her sleeve was loose and low though, covering her 
biceps.  The cotton was loose but I was sure I could see the sleeve 
twitch and shudder as her muscles flexed.

It was a fairly short match, Tanya out-muscling him, easing his arm 
down against the desk in only a few seconds.

Jamie laughed, delighted that someone else had been beaten and not 
him.  "That was pathetic."

"Let me try," Gary piped up.  I think it was partly to ease his 
friend’s burden, partly out of genuine curiosity.

"You think you can beat her?" Lee asked him.

"No," Gary admitted, "I just thought it would be fun trying."

Tanya raised her eyebrows at him and offered her his hand.  Gary took 
up the position and grasped her hand.  They took the strain.

Gary was stronger than John but still no match for Tanya.  She beat 
him, lowering his arm slowly to the table.  Gary groaned, his face 
wincing as he lost.

"Oh shit, you are strong."

"Not bad for a girl?" she asked.

Jamie was enjoying this.  "I don’t believe this.  Shit, she’s beating 
you all.  Bunch of fucking wimps."

No one paid him any mind however; everyone was too engrossed by 
Tanya.  A few more had gathered around now, watching the spectacle.  
Some of the guys were wearier however, just in case they were called 
upon to try.

I was volunteered next.  I half wanted to have a turn, the idea of 
arm-wrestling her appealed to me no end, but not like this.

Tanya smiled at me, "want to try," she asked.

"Do I have a choice?"

"You could always run away, crying like a girl," she suggestion.

"Or I could just get my ass kicked by one."

I took her hand and we began.  I began to ease her hand down a few 
inches but she equalised the pressure and, shudderingly, she fought 
back.  Her arm quivered with the effort, but she forced me down 
another couple of inches.  Her face was straining.  She struggled and 
eased me further towards defeat.  With a final gasp of effort, she 
managed to cast my hand down against the desk.

"Undefeated," Lee cooed, his voice retaining its customary cool.  
"How you doing?"

Tanya was rubbing her arm, as though she were tiring.  I was watching 
her, hoping for a glance of tensed muscle.  She kept her bicep hidden 
however.  "I think I could manage one more," she said.  "Why, you 
feeling lucky?"  Then she turned on Jamie.  "But I think it’s your 
turn."

Jamie’s winced at the thought but bit down the expression.  "Hey, why 
don’t you give Lee a go."

"No way man," Lee said, "she’d break my arm off.  You play her."

"No I’ll give it a miss," he said.  No one was going for it though.

"He’s scared," Tanya laughed.

"Yeah, he’s scared," John agreed, happily joining in with this turn 
of events.

"Jamie," Lee stated coolly.  "Don’t be a wuss.  Sit in the fucking 
chair."

"Man, you’re so keen, you play her."

"I’ve arm-wrestled with her before," Lee told him.  "Now sit."

Jamie sat.  Lee lined them both up, putting their hands together.  He 
gave Tanya a quick wink, counted to three and let go.

Jamie threw his weight into it, yanking her arm down.  But he didn’t.  
He tried but Tanya was strong.  A lot stronger than Jamie, as it 
turned out.  She held him in place, equalising his force to keep 
their joint arms in the starting position.

"Jamie," Tanya said, her voice cool and just a little bit cruel.

Jamie paid her no mind, too distracted by trying to gain a few inches 
on her.

"Jamie," she repeated.  "You know," she deliberately drew it out, 
"you always have been a fucking dick."

And she flexed.  She slammed his arm down hard against the desk, 
making his defeat look ridiculously easy.

She released him.  The gathered audience laughed and applauded the 
show, myself included.  Tanya hadn’t finished however.  She reached 
and grabbed his upper arm before he could stand and back away from 
her.

"Want to know how I beat you?" she asked, forcing his sleeve up to 
reveal his unimpressive muscle, barely defined.  Then she lifted her 
own arm, tugging the sleeve free.  She flexed a biceps pose that made 
Jamie look like a wimp.  It was the desired effect.

It was later that same day I managed to get a private word with 
Tanya.  "That arm-wrestling match, why?"

"To make him look like the snivelling little git that he is."

"You know what I mean."

She looked at me with big, innocent eyes.  But the smile cracked 
through.  "I didn’t want to show off," she told him.

"You know, you don’t have to protect my ego," I told her, "I know 
that you’re stronger than me."

"I was being gentlemanly."

There was a question I wanted to ask and figured now was a good a 
time as any.  "Lee said he’d arm-wrestled you before.  Who won?"

Tanya laughed.  "He did.  In truth, over the time I’ve known him, 
we’ve arm-wrestled loads.  Last time, it was a close match.  I’m 
getting stronger.  I will beat him won of these days."

"So are you two like..."

"An item?" she asked, surprised by the suggestion.  "What, Lee?"
Then she seemed to ponder it more closely.  "No, we’re just mates."

She smiled then, suggestively.  "Why, you jealous?"

That made me blush.

The last time I ever saw Tanya was the last day of the school year.  
It was a fairly chaotic day, as these things tend to be.  Without 
knowing it, we were coming to the end of an era, a time of passing.  
The next year was to be more serious.  We would be studying subjects 
we’d chosen, heading towards the qualifications that could perhaps 
shape the rest of our lives.  It was another step towards that 
frighteningly real possibility of growing up.

It was during the last break period that Tanya found me in the 
schoolyard and grabbed me.  She tugged at me urgently, needing to 
talk to me.  Needless to say, I was more than willing to go along 
with her.

There are several nooks behind some of the external buildings that 
offer the closest thing to privacy in the schoolyard.  It’s where 
kids go to smoke illicitly or to ‘clinch’ as the forbidding school 
rules put it.

Tanya was almost running, dragging me along behind her.  She kept 
hold of my arm as, finally alone, she stopped and turned to me.

"What is this?" I asked her, worried by her urgency, "What’s wrong?"

She just stared at me, endless seconds.  Then her face was locked 
onto mine, a kiss so furious and passionate that it took me a moment 
to respond.  And then I did, matching her intensity with my own fire.

Everyone remembers their first kiss, I won’t go into the soppy 
details or crass analogies, there’s no applicable cliché that I could 
come up with that hasn’t been used a thousand time or more.  It’s 
enough to say that the clichés are true, that’s why they become a 
cliché.

She was pressing her body against me, those hard muscles discernible 
through our clothes.  Her pace was frantic and hurried, one muscled 
arm wrapped around my neck, her peaked bicep crushed lovingly into 
the side of my throat, her fingers wound into my hair.

Her other hand made short work or her blouse, opening the buttons 
with quick, skilled flicks.  He bra was a front-loader she flicked it 
open, letting the delicate cups fall away, sharp little nipples 
exposing themselves, small and dark.

I cupped her tiny breasts in my hands, moulding the almost completely 
fat-free flesh, then plying those gorgeous little nubs with my 
thumbs.  One hand moved down, smoothing across the hard ridges of her 
stomach, then around to the silky indent of her back.

I pushed further down, fingers prising beneath the waistband of her 
skirt but she stopped me there, pulling them out.  She wasn’t too 
prudish however, placing my hand on top of the material instead, but 
still firmly cupping the hard round curve of her buttock.

Then, her free hand unzipped me, exploring inside.  She found my 
throbbing erection and encased it hungrily.  I gasped as she began 
working it, but she silenced me with her tongue.

She was rough and hard, her thrusting tongue moving in rhythm to her 
jerking.

I kept one hand at her breast, the other moved to encase her biceps 
muscles, feeling it flex and harden as she masturbated me.  That rock 
of flesh grew in my grip, spreading my fingers and filling my palm, 
then lowered, easing back down.

It didn’t take her long to finish me, aiming my cock away from her as 
it shot a heavy load.  She leant into me, arching her body over the 
mess, and kissed me once more, a sweet peck on the cheek.  Then she 
handed me a wad of tissue and she disappeared.

I watched her slip around the corner, buttoning her blouse as she 
went.

By the time I’d cleaned myself up, school was back in session.  It 
was only a half-day at the end-of-term and I didn’t get a chance to 
talk to Tanya again.  I tried catching her eyes in class but she 
avoided my gaze.  She appeared completely unfazed, but still would 
not look at me.

The school holidays began and Tanya completely filled my thoughts.  I 
desperately wanted to see her again.  I pulled the local directory 
and found five names, only one that could be her address though.  I 
took down the number and held it to me as something precious.

It took me two weeks to work up the courage to call and when I 
finally did, the line was dead.  After several tries I called the 
operator and was told that the line had been disconnected.

I decided to give it one more shot before giving up on seeing her 
until the new school year, still a whole month away.  I went to the 
address.  The ‘for sale’ sign should have clued me in.  I knocked a 
few times before a neighbour came out to tell me they’d moved.

I went home and wept like a child.  Though I’ve not seen her for 
twenty years, in some ways I’m still in love with her.  I certainly 
still think of her from time to time.  But then, isn’t that always 
the way with your first love?