Gentle reader: Thank you for reading this. It is my first story, and writing it has been both cathartic and nerve wracking. The basic premise is autobiographical, and has been rattling around for years. The details are (mostly) fiction.
Having discovered this place on the web, I have found an outlet.
I thank my wife for being my proof reader and loving critic, without whom, it would not be as good as I hope you will find it.
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You know that I really like you, and you're a good friend; I would love to go out with you, just, if you were a little taller..."
It was the Kiss of Death. I'd heard it hundreds of times. Kristi had that look on her face, the one that was trying not to be embarrassed, and look sincere at the same time; I had seen it so often that I saw it in my nightmares.
Kristi was about five foot four, and right around a hundred pounds. Slender, but not skinny, with just a hint of B cup tits poking out her blouse. Thick black hair that hung to the center of her sweet, sweet shoulders. She was everything I looked for in a girl on the cusp of becoming a woman; smart, quick witted, and fun to talk to and be around. And did I mention her eyes? Ice Blue? Grey? White? Different light made them all three. They were the most amazing eyes I had ever seen. In a group of friends she laughed, oh, that throaty gurgling laugh, and bantered back and forth. She would giggle, and put her hand on my arm, give me a little shove as she got the double entendre of a classical reference that went right past the others. It had given me that most cruel of things, Hope.
It had taken me weeks to gather my courage, talk myself into believing that Kristi would be able to look past my altitude disadvantage, and say yes. But it was not to be. My heart was somewhere south of my feet, I felt the old familiar gut-punch of disappointment, but I kept smiling. "That's OK, I understand," I said. "I'll see you tomorrow after lit class. Maybe we can grab a sandwich and discuss our papers."
The look was back, stronger. Her eyes started wandering, looking at everything but me. "I don't know, I told some friends that I would meet them for a study group for my sociology project... but I'd like to if it wasn't for that."
The Double Kiss of Death. I made appropriate sounds, and bailed as fast as I could. I found myself in my hidden little spot behind the engineering building. I was breathing heavily, sad and mad knowing I had screwed up another friendship. Kristi now knew that I had more intense feelings for her, that I wanted to date her. That maybe we could go to the next level of friendship, and now every time she saw me she would think first of all that she was four inches taller than me. Four lousy inches.
I was short. I had never grown up thinking much about it. Hell, everyone in my family was short. You should see my sisters and mother and aunts! My dad was taller than me, but even he was only about five five. The altitude record in the family was a cousin that at five eight got every joke about the weather and hey tell us what's going on over there. I was five foot (with my shoes on) and actually not badly proportioned. Just everything was proportioned on a small scale. I had even had several girls make remarks about my butt, and that I looked pretty good, other than that fact that I was shorter than all of them. The only thing that gave me any hope was that there was one thing that was not scaled proportionally. In high school, I played in the band, and changing into the marching uniform, guys would say, "Holy shit dude, how did you wind up with that thing!?" Unfortunately, guys don't spread the word to their girlfriends that somebody else has a bigger cock than they do.
Mom was worried about me, I was starting to see it. I joked with her about liking tall girls, because I didn't have much choice. But mom would occasionally ask if I had met someone now that I was a freshman in college and away from the small town I'd grown up in, and I would turn red, and and say something about there were a few girls I had my eye on. Right. My eyes, and that was all it would ever be. Mom would sigh, and say something about girls would mature and get past the height differential, and University would be better.
I just couldn't quite understand why a young woman could be so nice and easy to be around, seem to care about me and interact in a group, but the second I hinted at a date, it all came crashing down. The easy laughter, the conversation that had been so effortless, the joking back and forth, all became stilted and forced. Then whoever she was would find reasons to avoid me, and the group of people we hung out with would distance themselves, letting me know that I was the reason she had left.
I was tired of it, and depressed. I quit hanging with anyone, and wrapped myself up in studies, and found that I had a knack for writing technical papers that were easy to read, and didn't need an engineering degree to understand. My counselor at school had introduced me to several professors who honed my talent, and showed me that getting a broader education in literature and classical writing in addition to science and engineering would improve my skills.
Then I had met Kristi in my English Lit class. From the first day of the class my breath had gone short, my dick took on a mind of it's own, and the old familiar awkwardness tied my tongue in a knot. The prof had taken the paper assigned the first week of class, and spread them around so that we proof read them for each other, and did editing markups. Kristi, by the grace of the Old Gods, got mine. She sought me out, and wanted to not only discuss my paper, but have me proof hers as well. We started hanging out after class and my tongue started losing the knot. The Prof tended to use my work as the benchmark for acceptability, and other students started joining us for the lunch time discussions. I had never been so accepted, and even sought after for my thoughts and input. And Kristi had seemed to be there in the middle of it all, helping me to get past my shyness, and coaxing me to believe that people really wanted to know what I thought. If only she knew that the awkwardness and shyness was because of her.
Well, now she did, and the old familiar dance was beginning again. I would be alone, the others would blame me for Kristi's absence. I had hoped, prayed, that Kristi wasn't like all the others, would see me for me, and not just a collection of inches. A substandard collection.
My little refuge behind the engineering building was screened by trees and shrubs, quiet and cozy, a place where students could relax and think. It was wasted on engineering students, who were in a lab or rushing off to a math class. They didn't have time to sit and smell the flowers. The math was why I got into writing. I was always a term behind in understanding what the hell was going on. It had been that way since high school. I had had fantasies of bringing Kristi here, sitting and talking just the two of us. Well, one thing growing up and staring at girls made up of Unobtanium had given me was a healthy (?) active imagination. Rosy Palmer had never let me down.
