Public Panties

Elise awoke to Fur Elise playing loudly from her cell phone. Smiling faintly, she rolled over and brushed her strawberry hair from her face. She checked her phone and snoozed the alarm. Ten minutes later it went off again. She turned it off and sat up, letting the blanket fall to her lap. She rubbed her eyes and stretched, arching her back and curling her arms behind her head. Today was a day to get ready.

She moved over to her bamboo mat and moved through a series of Yoga stretches. Side plank into floating triangle into low boat, and so on. She held each for ten to fifteen seconds, sometimes as much as 30 seconds. It was a routine that one of her college roommates had shown her. It had served her well over the years since, keeping her limber and energized. She felt lighter when she started her day this way.

On her way to the bathroom, she stripped and deposited her pajamas in the hamper. She got into the shower after it had warmed up. She washed her hair then stepped out of the spray to condition it. She lathered her body and scrubbed her face next. Stepping back into the spray, she meticulously rinsed her face then her body and hair. She let the water wash over her till it started to turn cold. She lathered her legs with shaving cream and shaved then rinsed again. Wrapping a towel around herself she stepped from the shower and wrapped another towel around her hair and head. She hung the towel after drying herself and applied lotion to her body. She walked into her closet, turned the light on, and closed the door. A mirror covered the whole inside of the door.

Her mother would say this was a day for 'public panties.' She moved aside her plain underwear and her nerdy stuff. After some debate she put on a pair of deep grey panties trimmed with blue lace and a matching bra. She pulled aside a few dresses as well as some skirts and blouses. She tried them on and twirled in the mirror each time. Some fit too tight over the hips, while others were too loose in the chest. She finally landed on a grey dress with pin stripes in rose and emerald.

Shoes were in this instance a very easy choice. She slipped on a pair of deep green pumps. She walked back out to the bathroom and blow dried her hair. She quickly put her hair into ringlets. She had practiced for hours to get it doable quickly. She pulled some forward and left some against her back. After some arrangement she felt good enough about them to hair spray it all.

Elise moved into her room where she put some protection and her wallet into her clutch. She put that in her shoulder bag with a couple books, a notebook, and a few other essentials. She put on a pea coat, slung the bag over her shoulder, and walked out to her car.

Hallway Meeting

Ivy sat on a barstool in her doorway drawing. She pulled her platinum hair up into a pony tail then let it hang free down her back.  Finally she let it hang between her face and the hallway.  She glanced up at her neighbor’s door then back at her sketchbook.  She erased a bunch of her drawing.  Pulling a pencil from her ear she put down a couple more lines.

She bent back to her sketch book and erased another bit of the drawing.  She brushed the eraser fragments off her paint covered jeans.  Her cousin had often said that any man that didn’t notice her in them was blind.

She heard the deadbolt from across the hall click open.

There was something about her neighbor, Steele.  She never could pinpoint exactly what it was.  Something about his steel blue eyes, maybe, held her thoughts like a magnet.

Remember, play it cool.  Her heart started pounding her ribs.

Steele could hear Ivy’s music before he stepped through his door.  His heart sped up to match the beat.

He stepped out and closed the door behind him, locked the deadbolt with his key. Putting the keys in his pocket he turned from the door.

“Oh. Hi, Ivy.” Steele said.

He fought the urge to stare.  Her paint covered jeans and worn rocker t-shirt hugged her body perfectly.  As she brushed her brilliant hair behind her shoulder, he snapped his eyes to her face.  He wondered what her lips felt like.  How it would be to brush aside her hair. What her body next to his on the couch would be like, warm, soft.

“How are you doing?”  He smiled.

She smiled back before answering. He felt his composure crack. “Pretty well, yourself?”

“Not bad.”  Keep going, hold it together. “Just heading off to work. You got anything going today?”  He stepped over and pushed the elevator call button.

“Not till later.”  She turned on her stool to face him more easily.

“I’m throwing a little party tonight.  You should come.” Please say yes, please.

“Um, sure, that could be fun.” Steele rubbed his neck.  “I get off a bit late though.  When is it over?”  He gave a half smile.

“With my friends, probably not till late, one or two.”  She returned his smile and brushed a stray hair from her face.  It seemed his eyes flashed white for a moment.  She blinked they were normal.  “You should stop by.”

“I will.” his smile broadened. “Thanks.”  The elevator arrived with a chime.  “Well, I gotta go.  I guess I’ll see you tonight.”

“Sounds good.”

He got into the elevator.  The door closed, a smile bloomed on his face.

Parkour

He stood on the campus cafe's second floor balcony. The metal railing stood about three feet high which made it about thirteen feet to the ground, a little more actually. The balcony hung over the downward slope of a hill. A few feet to the right was a ground level wall with a metal railing topping it. The top of it was about seven feet to the ground. If he jumped to it his fall to the ground would be easier.

Once down the hill, around the parking attendant hut, he could jump across the tunnel entrance and catch the light fixture. From there he could swing up to the modern art sculpture and then all the way to the roof. It was only a medium grade and shingled, maybe seventy five feet at that end, so it shouldn't be a hard trip. There was a lawn on the other side of the art building with another art installation. This one was a series of poles and crossbars meant to mirror the mountains in the distance. Tall enough to bridge the height from wall to ground, the perfect way back to the ground.

Across the lawn was the engineering building. There were some pipes on that side of the building that he was relatively sure he could use to get to the balconies. The building was a series of expansions that led to a stair step of heights. The close corner was on the low end of it. Balcony hopping would get him to the other side where the loading docks were.  He could roll down the windshield and hood of one of the trucks to the ground once more.

After crossing the main drag through campus he could probably climb the northwest corner of the education building. There were two or three large metal grids attached to the wall there, the metal outlining eight two foot squares arranged in large rectangles. From those he should be able to get onto the metal walkway covers and across to Mansfield tower. Then up a couple more floors on the coping and he could squeeze into his room through the window.

By following this route he could avoid his ex who just walked into the cafe behind him, and his douche bag RA who she was now dating.

He took a deep breath and pulled his hood over his head. He drew gloves from his hoodie pocket and pulled them on.  Taking a few steps back, he ran and launched himself from the railing towards the wall.

Street Corner She

     She stood before them on the street corner.  Her thin frame draped over with a grey t-shirt and belted on jeans as much holes as fabric. She appeared clean though.  She wielded a guitar before her, a shield.  Her hands caressed the strings teasing music out, a ward against the evil in the passing hearts.  Her guitar case sat open before her. At once a receptacle for charity and a repellent of the 'decent' folk.  Her auburn hair was done in a braid that was pulled forward over her left shoulder.  It reached her belt.

     She stood, an unpredictable feature of that corner.  Each day she arrived at a different time, her stay just as unpredictable.  Even those 'decent' folk that passed the corner missed her sometimes. Truly.  She stood in the rain beneath the awning of the bagel shop, or the pizza place the other way from the corner.  Otherwise she was right there where Fifth and Washington met, always  the northeast corner.
She stood there seeing everything and nothing.

     One day someone tried to swipe some of the money under the guise of placing a bill into her case.  She slammed it shut on the fellows hand with her foot.  When he pulled his empty had out and hurried off, she packed up and left.  She was back the next day.  Another time she didn't even register the couture lady who dropped a hundred one dollar bills into the case. One day a reporter, a new guy, tried to make eye contact, to get an interview.  He stood transfixed for a moment looking into her green grey eyes.  He broke the gaze with a shudder and hurried away pulling his trench tighter around him.  Later, in bed, he told his girlfriend what he saw there.  He explained that at first her eyes were like any one else's, reflective.  After a moment though, the surface seemed to break and he sunk into them.  The city around them melted and he was in  the music.  He was insistent on that point.  It carried him somewhere, somewhere alien.  He considered himself a wordsmith, but he couldn't describe what he saw, and it was that that had scared him.  His girlfriend consoled him.  His publisher wouldn't run the story. She was there the next day when he passed.

     She shared and bared her songs to the world from that corner. Reporters came now and again broadcasting a song or two along with a short story.  Some stories were positive, others weren't.  She seemed unfazed by them all.  The cops tried to remove her, she went silently with her stuff.  She was always back though.  After a time they left her alone.