When you watch one person transform, you don't notice that you've transformed yourself. You don't realise that you're just as attractive to the opposite sex as you are to them. Well that's me, Brianna Fitzroy. Ugly duckling extraordinaire.
Almost overnight, I transformed from this super skinny schoolgirl, into this brown skinned, long limbed goddess and I didn't even notice it.
I should start from the beginning.
His name was Peter. Peter Anderson. He was the most awkward kid you would ever meet. He was chubby, socially awkward and fantastically clumsy. When my mother moved me from that horrid council estate to this semi-detached house in the suburbs I was basically the female version of Peter. Except that I was as thin as a reed and just as awkward and clumsy. We became instant friends. Peter had a wild mop of dark hair, with buck teeth, and a body odour so strong I swear it's the secret ingredient to horse tranquilisers. I, on the other hand, had a mane of uncontrollable afro hair and legs a chicken would laugh at. So you can see that we bonded almost immediately. We were both a pair of ugly ducklings
We attended the same school and while I was fierce and tough enough to defend myself, Peter was woefully lacking. I cannot tell you how many times I defended his honour in the school yard, or how many times he helped me with my homework. We were two kids who learned from each other and our bond was a strong one. I can't tell you how many days we spent with each other, or how many jokes we cracked with each other, or how many school lunches he would buy me with his pocket money.
But that was where the similarities ended. At eighteen Peter suddenly shed himself of his teen spots, his stout legs, and his round belly and gradually became this...man. His pectoral muscles became toned, his arms thick and his wild mop was tamed with a comb and some hair gel. His round face was suddenly devoid of puppy fat, and in its place was a chiselled chin and a smile that could melt a girl in seconds. I hated him so much, but still loved him for it.
I on the other hand retained my laughable legs, my thin frame and my long face. I still retained my spider like fingers, my mane of afro hair (which I learned to tame with so many hair products that I can't list them all). My body clung on to every speck of my teenage self (or so I thought).
Not only did Peter and I attend the same school but we had the interests. Video games, a love for chemistry, an unhealthy interest in medieval warfare, and an undying attraction to the ancient roman empire. So yes, we spent a fair amount of time together. We grew up in each other's eyes and our parents heard wedding bells in the near future.
There were bells yes, but it wasn't from the church.
I had turned twenty-five, and summer was glorious. One fine Saturday, I decided to sunbathe in the garden. I chose a perfect spot where the sun blazed until dusk and with my book, I settled into the lush cool grass. I was wearing a bikini top, and a pair of daisy dukes. I slipped off my sandals and sighed that contented sigh when one finds their nirvana. I had an iced tea by my side, and a packet of cigarettes with an ashtray on the other.
Once I was settled I started to read my book, but I hadn't gotten past the first paragraph when Peter came striding out of his own back door with a book under his arm, a packet of cigarettes in his pocket, and a glass of coke in his hand. He was wearing only a pair of shorts and his bare chest was out on display and I inadvertently licked my lips at the sight. Peter smiled, revealing a set of pearly whites and clambered over the fence.
'I thought you had work today,' he greeted me.
I shook my head grinning. 'Day off, so I thought I'd work on my tan. And start on the life of Kubla Khan.' I held up my book and Peter snatched it out of my hand.
'Is this the new one from that Dyer guy?'
'Richard Dyer,' I reminded him. 'And yes it is. And yes you can borrow it when I'm done.'
Peter grinned shyly and his eyes roamed all over my barely concealed body. When his dark gaze met mine he averted his gaze. 'Thank Bre.' He gave his book back and I rested it next to my ashtray.
We spoke for some time about many things. His new job as an electrical engineer was going well, he spoke of his boss with a mixture of admiration and pure hatred. His co-workers with a mixture of nonchalance and fondness. We both finished our drinks and we both refilled with my iced tea and retreated back to the garden. I led the way.
As I sat down, Peter brought up the subject. The one I dread. 'Have you been going to the gym?'
I smiled and shook my head. 'No. Unless running for the bus is now an Olympic sport, I doubt it.'
Peter laughed. 'You look good, one day I'll figure out your secret Bre.'
I snorted. 'There isn't one. I smoke like a chimney, eat more Mcdonald's than I should and I still have the world's skinniest body.'
'I wouldn't call it skinny,' Peter mumbled.
I pretended I hadn't heard. 'So what book are you reading,' I demanded grabbing the book from his hands. Our fingers brushed and Peter's eyes were fixed quite securely to my almost bare chest. Peter's book was a fantasy novel by an author I had never heard. 'Is it any good?' I enquired, noticing the slight bulge in his shorts. My eyes were fixed there for a while as Peter spoke, and I did not hear a word, nor notice when I handed the book back.
All of a sudden my over active imagination could picture his naked sweaty body before me, I could see that his shaft was a long one and his long arms wrapped around me while his glorious body is pressed against me, and his long shaft rubs my bud and teases my hole.
Shit! I'm wet now, what do I do?
I could see that Peter was distracted as well, and all other thoughts of conversation suddenly halts for an uncomfortably long time until I pick up from where we left off. 'Did you buy that book in Waterstone's? There's one not far from where I work they have the most epic collection of fantasy novels, they've even got the new book from Robin Hobb, it's only in hardback but I'm seriously considering buying one...'
Peter nodded, barely recognising the words spilling from my mouth.
