Rico Suave's Adventures in Bang Bang (254 hits)
Category: Romanceno reviews (Rate this item) (V)
Submitted by Mike <mike.elias17.at.gmail.com> (View user info) at 2005-02-14 23:56:44 EST
The following story is 100% true, and happened to me, the author. I'm a 15 year old semi-virgin: blowjob yes, penis-in-vagina no. Rico Suave is my nickname at my high school. Don't get the wrong idea, it was established by some dickhead I don't even know, intended as ridicule. I'm the guy who dresses a little different than everyone on purpose, walks with a strut rivaled only by the Marlboro Man, flirts excessively, yet seems to be alone most of the time.
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Brandishing my shiny new royal flush belt at the local mall, I caught sight of the one thing I was looking for: a sexy brunette.
She stood at the entrance to a ghetto-fied store called "Bang Bang," which pulsated with hip-hop. She was about five-seven, sprouting dark, straight locks that flowed over her shoulders, halting at her breastline. Speaking of breastline, hers was mesmerizingly visible in a black bikini top. Alriiiiight. Adorning everything below the waist was a flashy pair of Lucky Brand jeans, ostentatiously torn at the knees. Before I had the chance to check out her shoes, I was on my way to talk to her.
"Hey--your jeans are ripped," I so wittily observed.
"I know," she responded, hardly looking me in the eye.
"Why don't you buy new ones?"
"These are new." She thought I was just your average dumbass. The fun was about to begin.
"What, you couldn't afford whole jeans?"
That got 'er attention. She whipped her head around and stared at me with a look of mock-disgust--which evolved into one of flirtatious defense, once she saw the smirk I wore. She looked away again timidly.
"These were very expensive, as a matter of fact," she said, "The rips are just part of the style."
"Oh--so you just have weird style?"
"Yeah, that must be it."
Sarcasm. Perfect. ;D
"What's your name?"
"Alana."
"Ooh, with an A?"
"Three. A-L-A-N-A."
She was finished speaking, but didn't look away. I studied her sapphire eyes intently, for several moments; then, somebody broke our trance.
"I'll be right back," she said, following a hefty customer deeper into the store.
Great. She works here.
I turned and left. I didn't know whether or not I'd see her again, and I didn't care all too much. Realizing how comfortable I actually was with that mentality, I was refreshed. I meandered aimlessly around neighboring stores before deciding to return to Alana.
We picked up where we left off. I joked, asking "What took you so long?"
"What do you mean? You left ME."
"Oh yeah, poor you. How old are you, by the way?"
"Eighteen, you?"
"I might tell you once I trust you."
"What?! No, how old are you?"
I smirked.
Interlude: I appear significantly older than I am.
Another customer came. Alana's eyes apologized for her words:
"I'll be right back."
I turned and left her immediately.
I returned and greeted her eventually.
Witty remark.
Cute retort.
Flirtatious ridicule of attempted retort.
Cute surrender to unfaltering wit.
I smirked.
She looked.
I looked.
We gazed.
It arrived: "I'll be right back."
I left.
Upon my return, I noticed she was no longer at "our spot." Upon further observation, I noticed she was behind the cashier's counter. I approached the desk and splayed my arms on the countertop, relaxed. Folding clothes in a futile attempt to pretend my presence didn't distract her, she bustled behind the counter anxiously. She emerged, hooked clothes in hand, on her way to hang them on their proper hooks--or whatever.
I stepped into her path and met her eyes again. Placing my right hand against her bare hip, I stepped forward, leaning for her lips. She turned her head away, avoiding me. Coy. I grazed her cheek with my lips, aligning my left eye with her right.
I smooched her nose, winked, and walked out.
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One week later
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Galavanting around the same mall, I decided to drop in on my Bang Bang siren. I neared the store, noticing her in line at the Taco Bell across the atrium. She's on her lunch break. Alriiiight.
She picked up her trayful of a lonely soft taco and turned around. She took two steps, recongized my shiny new royal flush belt, and stopped dead in her tracks.
"Hey," was all she could muster.
"Hey, I'm gonna grab a Cinnabon. Wanna come?"
I started to head toward Cinnabon. She followed. I'll take that as a 'yes.'
I ordered, we sat down, and shared a quiet, slightly awkward lunch. I teased her about the way she unraveled her only taco and nonchalantly pecked at its insides with her thumb and index finger, like a chicken with nothing better to do than eat.
"Let's go for a walk," I proposed.
We had strolled silently for a mall block or so, when I paused at an intersection.
She inquired as to where we were going. I tossed her a sly smile and my answer:
"To the nearest changing room."
I turned away from her and strode into a clothing shop. Maneuvering through the racks of preppy polos and pre-torn jeans, I discovered the changing room area. Then, I discovered Alana still following right behind me. Then, I discovered the changing rooms were vacant. Finally, I discovered the changing rooms were locked.
Interlude: Every once in a while, every guy gets a great idea at just the right time.
I grabbed ahold of the bottom of the door and swung myself across the floor and underneath the door before rising to unlock it from the inside.
Interlude: I don't care who you are, that's some hot MacGuyver shit right there.
I swung the door open invitingly, revealing the gorgeous brunette who'd tagged along. She was expressionless--how peculiar. She stepped inside the dressing room without a word from either of us. I closed the door, locked it, and looked at her. She looked back. I stepped closer to her, expecting a kiss this time. Nope, she turned away. Strange. My left hand rested on the small of her back, while my right brushed her hair back over her left shoulder. I swooped down slowly and laid a tender kiss on her neck. It was beautiful, soft and slender. I retreated and observed her reaction. Nothing. What? I returned my attention to her neck; it was tantalizing and feminine. After several more soft kisses, I once again observed her reaction. Nothing. What the hell? She didn't smile or say a word, let alone kiss me back. Yet, she didn't protest at all. Relying on a flawed male logic, I reasoned that she would not be comfortable boldly reciprocating until I boldly did something else.
I reached around her upper back and felt a zipper. I grabbed it and pulled it down about halfway--and that's when I encountered resistance. She didn't scream or slap or kick me in the balls; she said "No," repeatedly, and zipped herself back up. She was uncomfortable and it was obvious. There would be no fun today. I unlocked the door and let her out.
I felt like an asshole.
Interlude: None of you know me, but know this: I'm the last person in the world deserving of the "asshole" classification.
She got a few steps head start, briskly fleeing the scene. I instinctively followed, intending to clear things up just a bit, if I could. I matched her speed and approached her.
"Alana, I'm fifteen."
She was surprised, but for obvious reasons decided not to elaborate beyond giving me a 'freaked out' look.
"I don't want to have sex with you."
"k."
I was running out of time.
"I just want you to know, I'm sorry."
"k."
I changed course and walked away. In my confused and worried state, I couldn't think of anything else to say.
Shit.
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