mystery-girl

Mystery Girl

Where did girls go when school let out? What did they do?

I didn’t have the slightest idea. Which is really odd, as much time as I spent thinking about sex: how to get it, and who to get it from, and all the attendant aspects of making myself ready, presentable, desirable, and all the rest of it.

You would think that I might have some notion of what a real live girl actually was actually like. I might have invested some time in finding out something concrete about the creatures I hunted, chased, followed, and hungered for so relentlessly.

But who had time to spy on girls? I can’t remember a single case related to peeping-tom activity among my classmates, let alone general information-gathering through surveillance. I used spy on people for the thrill of it when I was eight or nine. But later, it just seemed dumb to even think of sneaking and watching—especially girls—do whatever they did in private.

And yet, by the time we were sixteen, girls represented the ultimate measure of a boy’s net worth. Whether or not a girl was steady with you, whether you were good enough to have a date on Saturday night—having a girl made you rich. And getting rich was a constant, all encompassing care.

Where did girls go, what did girls do when they were out of sight? I vaguely believed they dwelt in dream worlds created for them by their sex organs. I was not wrong, but there was something more—a lot bigger and more mysterious than even the capability of having children. By bigger I mean that so much fantasy and feeling, desire and obsession, flowed through boys into girls that they—the girls—became enhanced, saturated with the power to grant wishes, each one in effect, a real life fairy princess.