Spanked by the Goth Girl

THE GOTH GIRL

On the quad, the winter sunlight hits the window-wall of Picassedy Hall in such a way that for a moment as you come over the hill you are blinded by the reflecting glare. Every day, you think grimly to yourself. The crunch of your boots on the snow as you make this daily 8:40am trek back home from your first class seems distant, as though your mind is still warm in bed. You ascend the hill with your hand cupped over your eyes, screwing your eyes against the light.

And when it fades, there she is.

The goth girl.

She's got a black/green, fleece-lined flannel jacket over her tee-shirt. Despite the cold, her zipper is low enough that you can read her shirt: KILL YOUR IDOLS. She's busty, you can tell, even though her layers hide her shape. Her hair is cropped shoulder-length, so black it appears purple under the light. Her jeans are black and snug against her round butt -- tears in the back-pockets, silver chain hanging from a belt loop. She's got huge headphones on her head and a "Don't-talk-to-me,-we're-not-the-same" sort of expression. She wears commando-style boots, but even with the huge heel, she can't be more than 5'5.

But God, she commands your line of sight. She's got a cigarette between her fingers. She's the only thing you can pay attention to -- the only thing you can see.

Blood rushes from your brain, and your body tingles. She doesn't seem to notice you as she rounds a corner and starts heading in exactly your direction. Then, suddenly, her eyes are locked on you. It's like a moment from a dream -- you half expect her mouth to open up and make the sound of your alarm clock or something. But instead, in a raspy voice, she asks you, "Hey, kid, do you have a light?" And you reply...

"Yes, please."

Like an idiot.

'Yes, please?' you think furiously to yourself. What does that even mean? You don't even have a light! Why do you always get so nervous around pretty girls? Stupid! Stupid!

But the goth girl just smirks. Then she throws her head back and laughs. Her breath fogs the air, and you notice the sharpness of her bicuspids when she grins mischeviously at you and says, "You're kinda cute, you know that?"

And before you can respond, she turns, gives you a wink and a tiny wave, and crunches off in the snow with her hands jammed back in her pockets. You watch her go, your brain full of white noise and longing.

She said you were...cute?

You aren't sure how long you stand there in the snow before realizing that she's crunched away in the snow and you're standing all alone...and it's freezing. So it's time to go back to your dorm.

*****

Even when you get home, you still can't get the goth girl out of your brain. You drop your backpack in the common area and sigh, shedding your winter layers onto the grey carpet. The quad is empty -- all 3 of your roommates are gone. You pull your gloves off by the middle finger. You collapse on the navy blue couch, pulling off your red beanie and running your bare hand through your hair.And then there's a knock at the door. You go and open it, only to discover...who else?

The goth girl is smirking, holding your library book, which you must have put down when you were on your way back from the quad.

"This yours?" she says, a glint in her eye.

You fumble briefly over your words, then finally manage to say, "Uh, yeah. That's mine...where did you --"

She glides past you into the room, moving so gracefully you hardly notice her boldness -- even as she enters your kitchen and casually lifts your coffee grinder to inspect it, you can't keep your eyes off her small, lithe movements, the way her lily-white hands touch with such confidence, the way she steps with her legs outstretched, taking up space, dominating the room with her body