Nandita To Nandini
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The Tomgirl And The Butterfly free porn video
Chapter 1 – The Caterpillar and the Hunter
The clouds had broken and the snow had eased for the first time in two weeks.Kids who had spent weeks cooped up in their apartments surfing cable and playingNintendo were finally released from their urban prisons. Free to roam the neighbourhoodagain, to seek out their friends and stretch their legs.
For Charlie the weeks had burdened her even further than for the locals.Her father had bought her here to the city on a business trip. While he lefteach morning to fulfil his busy work schedule, Charlie was left alone in analien city with little more to do than watch mid day television on the hotelrooms aging TV set.
He had promised her snow, a novelty in her home town, and the delights ofa large vibrant city. All she had seen so far were repeats of MASH and JudgeJudy and the grey sombre drifts of slush mounting up outside the lobby of themodest hotel her father and her were lodging in. Although he could afford farmore upmarket lodgings Charlie's father was a firm believer in watching everypenny, an approach that had amassed him a reasonable nest egg but left hima far stretch short of filthy rich.
He had left again this morning for a meeting, but had brightly commentedthat the snow had eased and the weather girl was predicting a fine and sunnyday. Charlie had looked in askance at his overly optimistic remarks, but hadkissed him on the way out the door and contemplated on to spend her day.
There was no way Charlie was staying in that little shoebox for another dayto be tormented by mind numbing mid day television. Resolving to explore theneighbourhood and possibly find some other folk to play with, she venturedout into the city.
Clad in her favourite sneakers, that had admittedly seen better days, herfavourite jeans, baseball cap and an LA Lakers sweater. She made sure to letthe sweaty overweight hotel manager know where she was going in case her fatherreturned early. Despite his obvious problems with presentation and generalhygiene the manager was nice enough to let her know the whereabouts of thelocal basketball courts.
The pavements where still surrounded and heaped with greying snow, Charliepicked her way carefully and followed the manager's directions. Snow was supposedto be festive and soft. Not this grey depressing sludge that seemed to be slowlyinfiltrating her sneakers. Turning the corner she came to the basketball courts,the bequest of some inner city philanthropist, they sat in an older, but stillrelatively respectable, part of town. Someone had kindly taken a snow shovelto them and heaped the piles of sludge over the sidelines.
For the first time in weeks Charlie felt excited – there were othergirls and guys over there, just shooting hoops at the moment. But just likemost congregations of teens, once a few more came along and a critical masswas formed, a full blown game would likely ensue.
Charlie had always loved basketball, baseball and football (although herfather drew the line at her playing football, when he found out at any rate).Charlie's mother had passed away giving birth to her parent's short-lived secondchild. Her father had never remarried as he still carried a torch for Charlie'smother and in his darkest moments admitted to Charlie that he could never loveagain… except for Charlie of course.
Deprived of many female influences and doted on by her father, Charlie hadreached the age of 16 without ever having played with a Barbie, experimentedwith makeup or even thought about "boys" as anything other than fellow competitors.Some of her female teachers at home had tried to fill the void by offeringadvice to her or her father. The two of them though were fiercely independent,and neither Charlie nor her father thought there was much of a problem in herboyish pursuits.
Charlie scoped out the courts and spied out a boy around her own age shootinghoops at the far end of the court. Sporting a New York Knicks jersey he wasslotting three pointers and working his way around the circle. Quietly impressed,Charlie's cheeky nature got the better of her. She darted in as he was bouncingthe ball preparing for a shot, stole the ball in mid bounce, took four steps,and jumped up to put the ball expertly through the hoop.
"Swish – nuthin' but net!"
The taunt and the steal bought the boy out of his focussed reverie.
"Not bad – for a girl…"
"Yeah – 'wanna go one-on-one prissy-boy"
"Sure, I'll put you on that cute little ass of yours in five seconds flat!"
And in that way the challenge was issued. Kyle, she found out his name afterhe slammed the ball through the hoop with a sweet move, clearly had the heightadvantage being almost six foot. Charlie on the other hand, standing at justover five and a half feet, had to make up for his advantage with her speedand skill.
Up and down the half court they ran, dodged, jumped and stepped, dancingthe dance that is basketball. The ball wove in and out, rebounding off theboard, swishing straight through the net innumerous times as Charlie and Kylepitted their skills against each other. They had attracted a small crowd, watchingon with envy as the two obviously accomplished amateurs strove to master theiropposite.
The game reached a crescendo when Charlie attempted a steal only to be thwartedby Kyle with a deft bump of his hip, Charlie lost her footing and felt herselffalling backwards – at the last moment she grabbed a hold of Kyle's Knicksjersey and dragged him down with her…
Breathlessly she hit the concrete, narrowly avoiding smacking the back ofher skull on the hard surface. Kyle fell awkwardly on her chest – andfor a moment, with his body pressing down on her she felt something. A brushof something more powerful, more seductive than anything else she had feltbefore. Here on this court with this boy – no man, she corrected herself – pushingonto her, holding her, pinning her down – she felt flutters in her stomach.She sought after the feeling, and then looked up at Kyle's face.
It only lasted an instant – Kyle was back on his feet and offeringa hand to Charlie – and the feeling fled. The onlookers must have thoughther dazed as she accepted Kyle's hand and clambered to her feet.
"Good match – I'd have you on my team any day – even if you area girl."
"Thanks, you too. But I think I'll sit it out a bit, I'm a bit winded afterthat." With that Charlie retreated to the gathered crowd, and someone kindlyoffered her their towel. She sat down on the bleachers, ostensibly to catchher breath – but privately to consider the feelings that had almost eruptedinside her.
What was that, she asked herself, it wasn't like the stupid girls at schooltalk about. No heart pounding and throat swelling up or any of that. It wassomething stronger, she had enjoyed being pinned there for that moment, tohave his body controlling hers, to be forcing her down…
She shied away from these awkward thoughts and resumed watching the new game.With her and Kyle's departure from the half court a full blown game had startedbetween some of the kids. The critical mass had been reached and now the gameswould ebb and flow all day as people arrived and departed throughout the day.
She played a couple more games after that, alternating between taking a breakon the bleachers and playing ball.
-----
There's always one – the local podgy kid whose sense of humour andall round good nature prevents him from being ostrasised and beaten up by hispeers. They're the one's who know all the new jokes, the ones who are the firstto sneak their Father's copy of penthouse to school, the ones who always comeup with something interesting to do, and they are the ones who usually haveabout as much hand-eye coordination as a new-born with a spoon full of babyfood.
This kid's name was Joey, and someone had made the shocking mistake of passinghim the ball. Joey, true to his nature managed a shot that no-one could havereplicated even if they'd tried it a hundred times. Somehow he managed to throwthe basketball toward the hoop, which it missed, propelled by its power theball bounced off the backboard, flew over the fence, took two bounces acrossthe road and smashed through the window of one of the shops.
"Oh shit Joey – You're fucking dead – that's Campbell's place.He'll have you're guts for garters mate, rip your head off and shit down yourneck!" This was one of the more reprintable exclamations.
The collected kids and teenagers promptly started jibing Joey into goingand getting the ball. "You threw the thing – you go get it, you dick" Themob had formed and was gradually brow beating poor Joey into slinking acrossthe road when Charlie spoke up.
"I'll get it, he can't be that bad, and plus I'm a girl, he's bound to goeasier on me than you guys." Charlies offer was met with many thanks from anexasperated Joey and a few winks of good luck from Kyle and the others.
Charlie walked out of the court and towards the shop. It stood on the corneropposite the basketball courts. In classic turn of the century style the shopfront wasn't squared off, but formed a gentle curve that stretched around thecorner. "Thomspon and Campbell – expert tailors. est. 1845" the grimsign announced. The windows were filled with dark conservative suits and overcoats.Unlike most clothing stores, not a single promotional sign or price was visible,this was the sort of store where one didn't even ask about price.
Joey's deft aim had landed the ball straight into the middle of one display.There it sat, partially covered by a toppled suit jacket that had fallen frombehind and in front of a display of cuff links and tie pins.
Charlie opened the old wooden door to the tingle of an old fashioned bellset to warn the proprietor of the store that a prospective customer had arrived.The stores interior matched its exterior perfectly. This was a shop out ofan old movie Charlie thought, look at the classic light fittings, the polishedwood, the neatly stacked shirts all arranged just so, the burnished bronze – allits missing is a balding old man with a set of pins in his mouth, a black vest,and a tape measure around his neck.
"I guess you're here to claim your ball?" The voice emanated from the backof the shop – there indeed was a man, pins in mouth, black vest, tapemeasure around his neck – but he was young, no more than 30, Charlieguessed. He was in the process of fitting a gentleman in one of the storestrademark conservative suits.
"Just wait there. I'll deal with you in a moment." He uttered as the tailorreturned to his customer.
Charlie looked over the current possessor of the basketball – darkbrown hair, neatly cut, a lithe firm body unbent from years staring at stitching,he had immaculate dress sense (as one would expect from a tailor). He workedquickly and efficiently, inserting pins here, making folds in the jacket there,and finally he announced: "Thankyou Mr Simes, I'll have the alterations doneby Tuesday, you can pick it up in the evening if that's convenient".
"Thankyou Mr Campbell, I'll drop in after work. A pleasure again." Mr Simesbegan pulling on his own jacket as he continued "There's a reason why my familyhas been coming back to your fathers shop and now your shop for nie on a century,you do solid work. Thankyou again and I'll see you Tuesday". With that Mr Simesdeparted the store, leaving the tailor, Mr Campbell, to fix Charlie with astern gaze.
"So, you're the one responsible for breaking my window, are you? I hope youhave the money to pay for its repair, or else I will have no option but tocall the police." Charlie withstood the well weighted barrage from the sterntailor and responded.
"I apologise if me and my friends broke your window. If I can use your phoneI'll give my dad a ring. I'm sure he can fix you up for the window."
"I think you will find that it is 'my friends and I"; and indeed I hope foryour sake young Miss that he can" With that Mr Campbell resumed his work andleft Charlie with the phone, standing in the midst of the bleak conservativestore calling her father's cell phone number…
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