Red string panties

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Nine years ago, in the full flower of my youth, I was a third year student at the local university and spent my time much more liberally than today. Instead of wasting my time doing something reasonable, utilitarian or pragmatic like earning money or reading a book on how to influence other people or how to be successful, I enjoyed my days in the delightful and pleasant company of alcoholic drinks, games and women. Libraries, books and wisdom- these all were negligible trifles and trivial nothings. Oh, those were the days! So innocent and pure. So wild and free. So careless and sweet. Full of love and laughter. Cliché and passé. My golden years.
Once for some odd reason I found myself inside the local library – a repugnant place which I merrily ignored during my studies. I guess, I had to meet a friend there, otherwise I would have been somewhere else, doing something which common decency forbids me to describe. Indeed, now I remember. I was there to meet one of my drinking buddies. Well, to speak the truth, I had met the guy only twice or thrice before, but I felt like he was a kindred spirit. Anyway, he was a charming fellow of Peruvian background. He had a strong, almost criminal-like physique, a round belly which bore witness to the cheerful disposition of his mind and long, thick, black spiral locks covered the upper part of his equally round and apple-like head. His name might have been Chiko or Chikatone or perhaps was it Enrico, something clearly and unmistakably Hispanic. In comparison with my sheepish appearance, being about 15 years my senior, he was an old and experienced wolf. He was married and his wife had recently given birth to his first child. I am sure that the sweet little baby-girl was endowed with a beautiful name too and it’s a pity that my memory has lost these precious facts of someone else’s life. Be it as it may, Chiko told me that he was a musician and a good one at that. He played drums in an underground Latino band. That was about all that I knew about him. Oh, yes, one more thing – he was superstitious. Once, when we drove to a local home appliances store to pick up a new refrigerator for his wife, he asked, quite unexpectedly: “Do you believe in God?”. I hesitated to answer, but said firmly: “Yes.” As soon as I had confessed this to him, he immediately countered as if he had foreseen my answer. “Well, I don’t think there is a God.” He paused briefly and then continued: “I am superstitious. Do you know what “superstitious” means?” Clearly, I had no idea so I said: “Yes.” And that was that. Our brief existential conversation was over. I had participated in the interaction with gusto and contributed with two meaningful Yeses, which he obviously could not handle. Of course, we spoke about other things too, but alas you cannot ask me to remember and narrate everything as it happened word for word, for this would not be a true story if it revealed my heart’s hidden secrets or encompassed life in its tiniest details and chronicled its minutest incidents.
Now, enough about Chiko. Let’s talk about me. Remember how this story began. The awesome me, out of all places imaginable and unimaginable, had stood erect in the local library and waited for my drinking buddy to arrive, so we can get the hell out of this place before its too late. Uncontaminated and clean from all the bookish infections and arrogant airs.
Having waited a couple of purposeful minutes, Chiko finally appeared in the spacious locker room of the library, where I stood and daydreamed. I greeted him with arms wide open. He was all smiles, as usual. Being civilized, we shook hands and inquired into each others private affairs. “So, how are you doing, Chiko?” “I am fine. And how are you, my friend? ” I don’t remember exactly how I answered this interesting question, but I am sure that I opted for some sophisticated phrase along the lines of “Life is wonderful” or “Everything is beautiful”.
Now it happened, as I explained to my buddy how sweet is the nectar of my life and how fantastic it is to be me, Chiko suddenly, without interrupting my eloquent speech, signaled to me with his eyes to look behind my back. When I did just that and gazed my sight at the direction which he had suggested with his eyes, I saw a blond girl right next to me. She had bent her knees and lowered her posture to put her school bag into the locker nearby. She did this in so careful and graceful manner that her panties were plainly visible to us or any other random passerby who happened to be at the right place at the right time. We were marveling at the pleasurable and glorious sight in front of us – red string panties. The pinnacle of heaven. Can there be more to life than this? Finally after struggling a good thirty seconds to put her bag into the locker, she rose up, closed the locker and left, seemingly without any thought whatsoever. “Oh, you little coquette.”, I thought, “why are you wasting these precious goods of yours in the library? Why are you searching for wisdom if all you really need is a man like me?”
Not a second went by, as we noticed another young girl who was bending down in front of us, putting her stuff in the locker and revealing to the whole world the color of her panties. They were black, in case you are interested. Soon she got up and went her own way. “Oh, you beautiful damsels, why are you doing this to me? Why are you sitting all so serious and so puffed up with useless wisdom? Be mine instead and I will refresh you with my love and tears.”, I solemnly thought as my eyes searched for the next pair of walking panties. Meanwhile, my buddy Chiko went inside the main hall of the library, picked up a heavy pile of books and ordered a few more. Apparently, he too was a damned intellectual phony. Blasted! Where have all the normal people gone? Thus our friendship ended then and there. I’ve never seen him again but sometimes I wonder what became of him. Probably nothing good.

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3 Comments

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3 responses to “Red string panties

  1. You are a dastardly fraud my good sir (Lol), for I was certain I was to be entertained with the witty tale of how that first pair of red panties (hence the title) had by night’s end taken up their permanent residence in your back pocket. Oh…deceived….misled…(as he slinks off thoroughly disappointed in his fallen hero). Oh well, read you later.

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