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SEXY X2
MAGAZINE - AUGUST 2012
and walk very upright gives them a
semblance of arrogance that does
not always coincide with reality.
Obviously, at that stage of my life,
this kind of theories were some-
thing far away from my intellectual
development, and everything that
was not the studies to a lesser
degree, and, to a greater degree,
the Greco-Roman wars, cars, and
the curves of the bodies of the girls
from school, was absolutely exclud-
ed from my head.
Arleen had long blonde hair, beau-
tiful green eyes, and there ended
everything that could distinguish
her from the rest of her classmates.
Her bust was small, and though
her waist was too, her hips did
not stand out for being wide. Her
thighs were very well-shaped, but
too thin to my narrow mind, which
was more concerned with the bot-
toms size than girls’ brains. And it
was just there where Arleen left all
of them behind. Her intelligence
was superb. Her grades reflected
it. She took part in every extracur-
ricular cultural activity.
She excelled in drama, wrote for
the school newspaper, and formed
groups to discuss political and
social issues.
She was a brilliant student.
I could not stand her.
On the other hand, I was strong
and athletic so I was very good
at sports. I always participated in
Greco-Roman fight at school. I took
pride in knowing that I could knock
almost any opponent, and I strutted
my body like a peacock whenever
I could to show off in front of more
voluptuous and less intelligent girls
at school.
As a member of the newspaper
club, Arleen had seen me fighting
on several occasions and had tak-
en many pictures of me at tourna-
ments which invariably showed me
hugging another giant lying on the
floor with my face buried between
his legs, or my nose two inches
from his sweating armpit, or with
half of my face deformed while
the other half smashed against
the back of a madman who I was
trying to keep lying on the floor for
three seconds.
She never took a picture of me
standing holding a trophy. They
were always pictures of me fight-
ing.
I was very good at fighting.
She could not stand me.
One day, there was a fighting
tournament between our school
and another area school which
took place in the other school. That
same day, Arleen was delayed
at school because she had been
finishing some homework and I
could not pass up the opportunity
of showing off that I already had a
driver’s license and, obviously, my
first car.
I offered to give her a ride since I
was also going in the same direc-
tion. The trip did not last more than
twenty minutes. I do not know
specifically what I said or what
she said, but the conversation that
we started there lasted for days,
months and years, and so far it still
continues to hold us together.
I do not want to open my eyes yet.
I prefer to prolong, with my eyes
closed, the well-being of remem-
bering the happy life that we both
have built together.
I feel good, but tired. I could almost
say that a half of my body is still
asleep and numb.
The third factor that plays an impor-
tant role in my process of awaken-
ing, and for which I do not need
to open my eyes, is the olfactory
information.
Each house has its own aroma.
I do not know if it has to do with
the kind of floor, if it is made of
wood or not, or type of carpet,
furniture, tastes and smells of the
spices used for cooking, even
being all the same, and the varia-
tion in proportions which make the
same foods smell different from one
house to another; or perfumes that
family members wear and even the
perfect absence of all these aromas
make you know for sure, without
opening your eyes, that you are at
your home and not in a hotel, or
anywhere else.
Often on weekends, when Arleen
gently gets out of bed and she
wakes up before I do, it is the smell