Thursday, 1 September 2011

Cheryl



I’ve always wondered what makes a special operations soldier so bad ass. A recruit runs for almost 6 hours a day followed by intense combat training exercises and the all important hours at the shooting range. Much like marines in camouflage battling tanks and blazing bullets, we civilians, survive the brutal war zone each Metropolitan city blasts wide open, coz in a sea of democracy, diplomacy is one fish that just doesn’t take the bait. You need your own Shield of Achilles to help you push through and survive. The bond between a soldier and his rifle is what the blue dudes in Avatar describe as ‘Tahelyu’, once made, the rifle and the soldier are one…of course…the Avatars with absurdly long pony tails bonded with these dinosaur-dragon cross breed creatures but in dark skinned ‘man’ language- the gun saves your ass. “…My rifle, without me, is useless. Without my rifle, I am useless”, these are a few lines from what the US army refers to as a ‘Rifleman’s Creed’, the code he must live by to stay alive. In urban warfare, more often than not you hit a dead end, are pinned down and are taking fire. You need someone to get you out or a bazooka to blast your way out of your sorrowful, sometimes guilty abyss. A couple of years ago when I was way behind college enemy lines; lost and outa ammo in a gloomy damp July, ‘twas a Saturday as I recall, I made the ‘Rifleman’s Creed’. I found my shield of Achilles, my Cheryl.

It was pouring that day and we caught ourselves waiting out the lashing shower under this old barn shed. Now Cheryl was new in town so we hadn’t quiet ‘broken the ice’. Yea, it was a little awkward the first time our eyes met. A wreck at the time, I really didn’t make quiet a smooth first impression. But there was something about her that saw right through me but she didn’t say a word. Her eyes, deep and sublime yet brown and indulgent; her cheeks, not too puffy but jiggled gently when she’d smile; a light tint of mascara smudged onto her skin. Her lips were moist and had a natural creamy glossy feel as I hoped she’d nervously smack them (ok… she was HOT). She had a black over coat on which she soon unzipped and like a loose fruit skin, the coat peeled down slowly, all the way to her feet. My throat gulped in eye rubbing disbelief as I saw her in this sexy beige outfit. A lit orange bulb in the barn, gave her silk-like dress this summer sheen as the fabric wrapped around her delicate bosom and curved along her toned waist. A lil drop of rain brushed her forehead as it trickled down her cheeks caving its way down her tender neck deep into her heaving... (36C…I guess). After shamelessly ogling her, I walked up to her, looked her dead straight in eyes, twitched my eyebrows and said “hi, I’m Yorrick”. She didn’t flinch.

 I was having a really rough run at the time. My parents, who’ve always been extremely supportive, did their bit to try and keep me afloat; but nothing seemed to click; I was still off my game. Call it raging testosterone, I just wasn’t playing my cards right. I was bleeding chips; be it with my grades, the band, I lost this all important job interview and my best friend was seriously ill and fighting for her life. I just wanted one bloody thing to go right. To be honest, there were heaps of things bottled up inside me and no one to make sense of it. But when Cheryl walked into my life, things changed. She wouldn’t do much, just patiently sit and listen to me venting out the entire gunk locked down and eventually when I’d figure things out, she’d hang in there and cheer me on. We’ve known each other for a while now and she’s always been the silver lining no matter how dark the cloud. How’d she do it?-I’ll get to it.

Ok, back to the barn shed. Flirting 101 says: if she doesn’t respond, talk about the weather, divert. So I tried it. Cheryl still gave me nothing. As it so happens, she didn’t speak English. Then after about a 30 second awkward moment of silence, nothing, absolutely nothing could prepare me for what happened next. She looked at me and gently held my hand, placed my now numb palm just above her waist and pressed down slowly. Her dress had these six threaded laces running down her chest all the way to her waist. I took a moment just to wrap my head around what was happening. Let’s recall, hot Cheryl, sexy beige outfit, a perfectly curved rack, my hand on her waist, (techno music)… Wuhuuu…yea baby! Ok back to the story…

I gently drew her in and slyly slid my other hand across those laces as I held her tight. Her hair curled around these little hair lugs, and the loose strands flirted with her face as I brushed a tuft around her ear. Her breath got a lil heavy, as I’ve gotta admit, things got really steamy. Now Ted fell for Robin in one date but it seemed like I was head over heels for Cheryl in one glance. Another drop took off from her forehead, this time my finger rode it gently as I rolled it along her neck, down her perky chest. I mowed her neck slowly with my left hand, while my right tickled the laces around her belly. She’d shiver occasionally, but I still kept my fingers going, slowly sending waves of passion (LOL) down her body. I sat down and she coiled around on my lap, as I wrapped my arms around her. She just wouldn’t strip down though, like a weird fetish; she liked it with her clothes on. We lazed around under that shed, the whole night as we ‘calmed each other’s senses’. I didn’t know the language she spoke, but as long as I pulled all her strings right, I’d get what she’d wanna say.

It’s been six years now since that first glance and Cheryl and I are still lost for each other. Our first date was different, we weren’t mushy; in fact we got right down to it. There have been times when my life coaster has derailed and friends have stabbed me right in the back. It happens to the best of us. But no matter how bad things got, she would always see me through. When people ask me how we understand each other, coz we don’t speak the same language, I always tell them about the first time she looked at me. I didn’t know what it was back then but today we have a bond, one that matured with each lean time when she’d stick with me. She knew I was a mess the day she first met me, yet she chose to be the light at the end of the dark tunnel I was stuck in. Riding solo will only get you so far, coz sometimes even Batman needs Robin to bail him out. I found my silver lining the day I met Cheryl and she’s hung in there ever since.

Oh, by the way, Cheryl is my one and only six string acoustic guitar. So yea, you might wanna read this piece again…;)  





2 comments:

  1. awe'freakin'SOME!!!!!!
    urkey urkey urkey urkey!!! ;)

    ReplyDelete

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