Love Lies Dying by Steve Gerlach Page A

thought back. What kind of a life would they lead?
    John remembered standing in a corner for most of the night, checking out from afar the breasts on Christie Baker, Donny’s number one squeeze and the team’s number one cheerleader. She was also number one wet dream pin-up girl for most of the male population on campus. Now there was a girl with class, tits and ass. How she managed to have her tits defy gravity was of constant amazement to John. They were large and nicely rounded, but Christie never wore a bra and they just stuck out from her body, on display for everyone to see. Her nipples were usually erect and enchanting too. An absolute feast for the eyes, and a true natural wonder of the world.
    Finally, after only about an hour or two, John decided to go home. There was no action at the party and the only thing worth waiting around for was another sly glimpse of Christie Baker’s breasts. But he knew he was never going to get his hands on them, so there was no reason to hang around. He slipped out of the main lounge room skilfully dodging the hot and clammy hands of “Pattie the Fattie” and Maureen. He was wiping his hands and heading down to the front door when it opened and Helen walked in.
    He remembered stopping in his tracks, amazed at her long curly blonde hair that flowed over her shoulders.
    And then he saw the angry look on her face.
    “What the hell do you think you’re looking at?” she’d yelled across the hall at him.
    John was stunned. He tried to speak, he even tried to turn and walk away, but he couldn’t.
    “Well?” she placed her hands on her hips.
    “Ah, I was just leaving,” he said as he continued towards her and the door. “The party’s in the main lounge.” He pointed the way.
    “I’m not here for some stupid party,” she yelled at him.
    “Oh, okay, sorry,” he pushed past her and walked out the door.
    “Hey,” she called from behind him. “Where are you going?”
    He turned to face her after he walked down the front steps.
    “Home,” he said.
    She still had her hands on her hips but she had a strange look in her eyes.
    “You know anything about cars?” she asked.
    “Well, yeah, a little,” he replied.
    “Think you can fix mine?”
    “Don’t know,” he shrugged his shoulders and placed his hands in his pockets. “What’s wrong with it?”
    She rolled her eyes, “If I knew that, I’d be fixing it.”
    She smiled and he laughed.
    “Okay,” he said. “Where is it?”
    “Just across the street,” she pointed. “It’s that old shit-heap of a Buick. My dad won’t buy me anything new.”
    “Well, let’s go and have a look at it then.”
    They walked across to the car and he checked under the hood. Helen climbed in the car and turned the key in the ignition. The engine sounded pretty dead to him and he suggested maybe it was the battery.
    “Shit,” she hit the steering wheel. “How the hell am I supposed to get home now?”
    “I could take you,” he’d replied. “If you don’t mind a bike?”
    And so he had taken her home on his bike, and she had invited him inside for coffee.
    And that was when they really hit it off. He found out she was at college too, but they were doing different courses and subjects for the most part. She found out he was on the football team, “A game for small-minded people played by athletes with even smaller minds,” she had said, and he had discovered that there was something much more interesting in the world than football. And even more interesting than Christie Baker’s breasts. Helen was cute, intelligent, great to talk with and fun to be around.
    But she had spunk too. She would call it as she saw it and wasn’t afraid to speak her mind. He liked that, and he hadn’t found it in any of the cheerleaders he knew. Most of them would bend over backwards without a word of complaint – literally. They would lie and cheat to get what they wanted. The girls he knew had no substance at all. But Helen did. Helen was