AN: Disclaimer. I don't own anything
A girl sat at a desk in a classroom waiting. And through the duration of this story you will come to know the term 'girl' does not befit her. Despite her ripe age of fifteen in these contemporary times, she could already be called a woman. She was seated in the front rows, right next to the big French windows that lined one side of the room. It was raining in the mid-afternoon sky of heavy darkness. Yet, where this girl sat, there seemed to be rays of perpetual light streaming from the rain. She was angelic but a contradictory at the same time. Not a single soul can deny the bright innocent air that surrounded this poor soul. But anyone, even a dumb idiot can see that she is anything but that. Her eyes are befitting the season, though her irises never seem to cycle. They were always heavy, dank, and gloomy. She stared a soft intensity towards the raindrops outside, as if she were looking past the window, the grass field of the school yard, beyond the rolling hills below the school and into the everlasting horizon. Her eyes can see everything. Pierce right through any obstacle of her line of site. Her hair lay in soft ringlets well past her shoulders almost touching her lower back. Today's weather permitted it to be the beautiful immensity of dark brown curls, to a shade almost black, that her hair is. They cascaded around her, framing her small round face like the golden structure around that of the Mona Lisa. And much like the Mona Lisa her beauty was subtle, silent, and grows as he watched her.
Her face was very delicate and indeed very small, though it lacked the raw-ness that most girls her age radiated off themselves. Her aristocratic brow maintained this angled arc, that many take as a rather suggestive implicative display rather than what it really is, a natural born feature of her heritage. Her nose, for the loyalty to her rich portrait, was perfectly lined, and only slightly, under close inspection of meticulous eye, upturned at the tip and rounded down ever so softly. The sharpness of the bones of her bridge contradicted her soft, round, tiny nose. At times she would look down among people, to her nose and turn against them, insulting the incomprehensible stench that she could only sense. She was selective, he noted, selective of everything she does, the people she befriends, the words that would flow from her mouth, the things she touches with her grace. It was all refined and carefully chosen in the seconds her mind processes her actions. It was perfect. She was perfect to him.
He continued to observe her, lingering on those more favored spots. Her chest was heaving slowly making him wonder at times if she might fail to take another breath but his fear would subside when her chest heaved up a second later. Her narrow waist, accentuated by her school bloused tucked firmly into her wool uniform skirt she wore today, would flow to her wider hips and ample bum. His eyes would linger a little longer on the meat of her body that rests on the wooden stool of the classroom. Its roundness and pertness lost as she sat down but would return once she stands later to leave for the next class, he reminded himself. He would have to pack his things slowly so that he can have a few extra seconds to admire her swaying hips and luscious bottom. He continued down to her legs, which were lean and toned and seemed to go on for miles. Most of her height could be attributed to the length of her legs. Many of the school's female population would kill for those legs and most of the male population, if not all, would do anything to have a chance to run his hands along those gorgeous gams.
His thoughts were causing his heart to palpitate and sweat began forming on his naked upper lip. His breath hitched and his throat started to constrict and ever so slightly he could feel a hardness forming under his pants. This caused him to panic, not that such an occurrence was a rare thing to happen to him or his fellow male classmates, but the class was about to end and he couldn't risk her seeing him in that state. It would be embarrassing. She was the cause for his boner and even though it wasn't likely for her to know that, the causes could be narrowed down by any intellectual like her. There weren't many people that were attractively striking in that class and he wouldn't be the first boy to have a hard one induced by her. His eyes now focused on the black and white clock that hung above the chalk board in front of the classroom. Five more minutes till the end of class, and he'd have to calm down before then. He closed his eyes and began to think of the oddest bit of things he can, his grandmother, the gray-haired hag of a teacher that taught in this class, spiders, red howling messages, slugs, and many other unpleasant things. Was it working, he very much hoped it did. He was focusing every single grain of his body to calm down his heat and with luck his will persisted. Damn his reaction to her.