“Half Man” by David Huddle, page 4

        For the rest of his life, it would amuse Bill to remember that he and Nadine came together. They had a mutual orgasm--it’s just that he was the only one who knew there were two of them. And that’s what put an end to his life as a back yard spy. At the exact moment he fired off his little barrage of sperm into the O’Haras’ pachysandra bed, Bill knew he wasn’t coming back. It wasn’t so much because of shame as it was Nadine’s face. Geek though she may have been, when Nadine took off her clothes, she was a pretty girl. She had shapely breasts, a dancer’s long legs and arms, and her back was a wonder of curves, dimples, ridges, and ripples. Without her glasses and with her face aiming to please her pillow man, she just wasn’t the same little geek of their high school hallways and classrooms. Still--and Bill didn’t know why this was the case--it had been mostly her body he’d gazed at when Robert was with him. The one and only night he came to her window by himself, it wasn’t her body but her face that held his attention.
        Maybe because the stopping point of her dance put her face in his line of sight, Bill couldn’t break away from staring at her eyes and her mouth. Her excitement and his simultaneously began to crescendo. She appeared to be returning his gaze, but of course she wasn’t. Literally those hooded eyes of hers were seeing the reflection in her window of herself and her dressed-up pillow model; however, what she must have been seeing in her mind was the back of her big-chested dancing partner. From a distance of maybe ten feet, Nadine and Bill were staring directly at each other, and in their separate journeys they were perfectly synchronized. But he might as well have been standing in China. The distance between them, however, was not what disturbed him.
        He saw himself in her face. What had taken him to that window in the first place was the need to see the other sex--to see his opposite. But that little jolt of Nadine’s jaw muscles and gritting of her teeth showed him exactly what he felt in his own body and mind as his ejaculation rose up in his groin and shot out of him. Bill felt tricked--tricked by whatever it was that had driven him to be there doing what he’d done. It was the same for Nadine, of course, she was driven, too. But at least she was seeing only what she wanted to see--her imagination held her its spell. At the very moment Bill least wanted to see himself, a mirror sprang up in front of him. Years later, he’d think it was like paying to get into a strip show, then suddenly seeing himself up there on the bar, grinding to the drum-beat, undulating and licking his lips.
        Well, of course, he was only a boy, and the situation--standing in Nadine O’Hara’s back yard with his thirteen-year-old dick in his hand--didn’t exactly encourage philosophy. But with his whole being Bill felt it--This is not what I want! This is not it!

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