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Archive name: shouldnt.txt
Authors name: sotborder (address withheld)
Story title : It Shouldn't Matter

--------------------------------------------------------
This work is copyrighted to the author © 2004.  Please
don't remove the author information or make any changes
to this story.  You may post freely to non-commercial
"free" sites, or in the "free" area of commercial sites.
Thank you for your consideration.
--------------------------------------------------------

It Shouldn't Matter
by sotborder (address withheld)

***

At a local university a middle aged man and a young 
woman see past each other to the beauty beneath. A 
romantic story with a twist. (MF, rom)

***

I know some of you are going to wonder, "How come 
nobody was spermed? Where is the forced, coerced sex? 
Where for God's Sake is the SEX?" Well, Dear Reader, I 
just wanted to flex my writing abilities a bit and try 
something new and a bit different. 

I thought it would be fun to write in the first person, 
and create a story that is driven by it's characters 
more than the sex they partake in. I also wanted to 
explore two themes that I find particularly 
interesting, for a couple of different reasons, and 
braid a story with them. I'm happy with the outcome.

I hope you enjoy it too.

M 

***

It Shouldn't Matter

I noticed her the first day of school. Casually working 
her way through the quad. Oblivious to the stares that 
followed her.

She definitely was attractive. Long, thick, black, 
curly hair that cascaded down her back in thick 
luxurious waves. Eyes that danced with a mischievous 
light, and a smile that would light up the darkest, 
deepest cave, in the very deepest bowel of the earth. 
She looked Latina. Even from where I was sitting, 
reading "Fire Island," I could see how self-assured she 
was. That steely grace that only a woman who is in 
control, and knows her wants and needs, is able to 
express just by the way she moves.

My third class that day was English Lit. It was mid-
afternoon and the room was too warm. The air-
conditioning was making a half-hearted effort to cool 
the room, but failing miserably. I could feel my 
eyelids drooping downward like a pair of old drapes. 
The teacher, Mr. Brown, was boring enough to put 
someone in a coma. He spoke in a complete monotone. I 
could imagine his mouth as a metal slot, the words 
coming out of his maw in a straight line. 

I bit my lip to keep myself from giggling. It was easy 
to see that he had intoned his introduction over the 
course of many years, possibly decades. I tried to tune 
out the formless droning, my eyes following a little 
fly that had landed on my desk. I yawned. Glancing over 
the syllabus that he had just passed out, I could also 
see that he probably hadn't attended any workshops 
recently. It was probably the same regurgitated form 
that he been using since about the second world war.

Glancing around the room, I noticed the usual batch of 
twenty something's. The girls decked out in the latest 
fashion. Hip hugging jeans designed to lay low and show 
a soft strip of tummy. I sighed. The guys were either 
wearing dopey baseball caps or sporting what I called 
The Starched Hair Look. A head of hair that stood up 
straight and tall, like a marine at attention, defying 
gravity. I felt odd being here. It was a weird feeling 
being back at school after almost twenty years working 
a regular job. 

As Mr. Brown continued to drone on about his 
expectations for the class, my heart sputtered as I 
noticed the cute Latina from the morning. She was 
sitting down front in the corner. I could see that she 
wasn't very enthralled with the class either. She had 
her head cocked to one side, half listening and 
daydreaming at the same time. Unconsciously, I put my 
arm on my desk, resting my chin on my hand. 

I gazed at her openly. Admiring ever facet of her. She 
had a graceful neck that tapered down sensually into a 
snug yellow blouse that pressed in around her breasts 
accentuating their firm roundness. She wasn't just 
pretty, she was gorgeous. Sitting by the window, back 
lit from the sun that was pouring through the window 
like liquid sunshine, the golden light framed her hair 
and face in a warm glow. She looked like an angel.

Her eyes wondered around the room, connected with mine, 
and locked. She looked quizzically at me. My face 
turned the color of rouge. She knew I had been staring 
at her. I turned away quickly and began fiddling 
nervously with my pencil, making doodles on the paper 
in front of me. I could feel my face burning with 
embarrassment. 

She quite possibly was young enough to be my daughter. 
She probably thought I was some kind of pervert. In 
fact, she probably thought that I enrolled in school 
for no other reason than to goggle at young girls. I 
slunk further down in my chair, eyes focused downward 
on the paper in front of me.

Class didn't end soon enough. As soon as Mr. Brown made 
his final comments, I grabbed my backpack and hurried 
out, accidentally bumping a number of students who 
glanced at me irritably. I felt like such an ass. 
Daydreaming about a girl that only could exist for me 
as fodder for fantasy. Yet, the though of her drifted 
through my mind like a stubborn mirage. Shrugging my 
backpack abruptly, I walked quickly away, seeking 
solitude. I didn't have another class for another two 
hours and I lived too far to drive home. Without 
looking back towards my class, I went to the library.

I found an empty booth in the back. Thankfully, the 
place was deserted. It was in the middle of the 
afternoon and most of the students were in class, at 
home or goofing off in the Student Union. It was too 
nice of a day to be at school. A negative thought 
entered my mind. I didn't belong here. Campus life was 
for young adults, not a middle aged adult. I felt like 
a mutant. 'Maybe I should just stick to my job and 
forget this school stuff. Nobody talks to me anyway.' I 
thought to myself. I felt so empty.

I was broken out of my revere by a tentative tap on my 
shoulder. I glanced back and almost fell out of my 
chair in surprise. My eyes bugged out of my head like a 
pair of oversized dessert plates. It was the Latina 
from my class! I gulped nervously. Unfucking-
believeable. I tried to keep a cool facade, but inside 
I was shivering like an aborigine at the North Pole.

She smiled, aware of her effect on me, her eyes dancing 
playfully. "You sure are quick. I thought, perhaps, you 
had a bad case of the runs." I smiled back and laughed 
out loud at her comment. "No," I said in response, "I 
was actually running away from you."

"Oh, yeah, did you think I had some kind of viral 
disease?"

"I don't know, do you? I just got over a cold and my 
immune system is kind of weak."

I wouldn't worry, the only disease I've been accused of 
having is dysentery of the mouth."

"That's pretty gross. Have you had it checked?"

"Not recently. I think it's in remission."

"Can I catch it talking to you? Like I said, my immune 
system is not up to full strength."

"Only if I spit at you while I talk. I forgot to bring 
my surgeons mask, so maybe you should step back as a 
precaution."

I found out her name was Paulina, and that she was 
originally from El Salvador. She had just enrolled in 
school after getting her residency notice from the INS. 
She was majoring in Communications. She spoke English 
was an adorable Spanish accent, one of her many 
endearing qualities. She lived with an aunt a couple of 
miles south of the University.

As we bantered, I could feel the energy between us, 
which hummed like a live wire. The conversation flowed 
from one side to the other with the familiarity of a 
well-worn pair of sneakers. This couldn't be real. Yet, 
why shouldn't it be? What is age? For that matter was 
is a disability?

It shouldn't matter.

"Paulina," I asked after almost four hours of non-stop 
gabbing had elapsed, "Can I take you out to dinner? I 
already missed my afternoon class and am pretty hungry. 
Does Mexican sound good? I know an awesome place from 
here called "El Farlitos," that has the most awesome 
Mexican food on the planet and it's close, within 
walking distance.

She smiled, "I'd love to, but as you can see, I use 
another form of transportation," pointing to the wheels 
of her chair and laughing.

"No problema," I replied, grinning back, hefting my 
backpack over my shoulder. "You wheel and I'll walk." 

I followed her as she maneuvered herself out of the 
library, staring at the back of her, smiling like a 
fool.

END

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Please keep this story, and all erotic stories out of
the hands of children. They should be outside playing
in the sunshine, not thinking about adult situations.

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Kristen's collection - Directory 28