An Old Flame: Part I

Written by: PSmith

Paul's an unpopular guy in school and can't get a date. He goes to Russia and things start changing... when he comes back to the U.S., he's changed. This is my first post and has a long beginning.

An Old Flame: Part 1 

Hi, my name is Paul. My parents worked for the American consulate and
moved around a lot. I must have lived in seven different places before 
I settled down for college. My parents worked in L.A., New York, 
London, and other large cities but always managed to find a small, 
quaint town for us to live in. This story begins in my freshman year of 
high school... 

I was just 14 when I entered ninth grade. My parents were always busy
and had enrolled me in day care and kindergarten early, so I was always 
the youngest in my grade. We had just moved to Alpine, a small town 
near New York with grand houses and a top school district. Alpine High 
School was a public school, although everyone who could afford to live 
in the town was quite wealthy. It was both heaven and hell for me, 
because despite the fact that the girls were glamorous and pretty, I 
was still unhappily undeveloped. The hottest girl in the grade was 
named Cindy, like a supermodel, dark hair flowing in waves past her 
shoulders and perky, well-formed breasts perfect for her slim figure. 
She was a tall 6'1, with long shapely legs and looked to be at least a 
junior. I lusted for her in school, after school, and at night. I sat 
behind her in Lit and spent long class periods staring at her firm ass. 
God, how I wanted her. 

Unfortunately, I stood no chance. I was a scrawny 5'7 with glasses. I
hid my lack of muscles with baggy clothes, making me look like a loser, 
not at all like the Abercrombie-dressed football players who beat all 
the other schools in the League Championship. So it was no surprise 
what happened when I asked her to the Spring Formal. "Hi Cindy, what 
did you think of the math test?" 

She gave me a strange look I couldn't decipher at the time but now know
to be amusement and replied, "it was hard, but thanks so much for your 
notes, Paul, I love you!" 

I blushed and was urged on by the incredible fool inside me. "So... do
you wanna go to the Spring Formal with me? I mean, if no one has asked 
you yet." 

She grinned and put on a sad face. "Aw, I'm sorry Paul but Lance Giles
is taking me already. But I would have gone if you had asked earlier." 

I shrugged, "oh well," hiding the avalanche of disappointment tumbling
inside me. As I walked away, I heard her talking with her friends. My 
ears picked up my name said, and I ducked behind a row of lockers. 

"Can you believe that creep, asking you out as he isn't the biggest
loser in the school..." "Ha ha, that was good acting Cindy. ‘Aww, of 
course I woulda gone with you... dork!'" I was nearly crying—the love 
of my life hated me! Then I heard a group of guys approach, varsity 
football by the smell of sweat, dirt, and pot. "Hey Lance," I heard 
Cindy call out. "You want to go to the dance with me?" I could picture 
Lance eyeing her breasts, her luscious lips, and nodding. He grunted a 
"yes" like the Neanderthal he was and left the pack of girls squaling 
about how one of their own was "like totally going out with a senior". 
My despair melted into anger, and later, hardened into resolve. 

For the rest of the year I tried to get beautiful Cindy out of my head
but to no avail. I just couldn't stop thinking about her lithe body and 
how I felt when she pretended to be sweet and nice. I realized I just 
couldn't get a girl like her with just a brain. I needed some brawn. 
But it was too late to change, because at the end of the year, my 
parents announced that we were moving to Moscow. 

The new school was for ambassadors' children only, and it was the only
one I could go to, as I couldn't speak Russian. Most of the people 
there were European, and spoke English. By high school I had grown to a 
lofty 6'3 and transferred to a private school, having mastered the 
language. I concentrated on schoolwork, and found a knack for tennis. 
My coach made me work out more and lift weights to improve my swing, 
and got contacts instead of glasses. In junior year, I started noticing 
the girls. They all wore classic uniforms: navy skirts to the knees, 
stockings, and a white shirt with a tie. In particular there was this 
one girl, Yulia, who I was interested in. And to my surprise, I found 
she was interested in me as well. She was tall, almost my height. She 


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