He studied her curves as he surreptitiously approached her. The youth was not certain of his reception, and it did seem that Carole had been pointedly avoiding him since the episode with Robin in the shower. Her mother had promptly twisted her arm to go out with Bert. The boy was almost certain that this was the rationale behind Carole's reluctance to meet him face to face. If she did, she would be forced to accept the date. If she could avoid him, the girl could alibi off by saying he had never asked. Bert's determination to make it with Carole was unabated, but he had been considering everything that Cruncher and several others had said. He had even checked a book out of the library… the public library, not the school library. He wasn't sure the staid and aged school librarian would have wanted a copy of Krafft-Ebing around. That had given him a couple of ideas that would certainly be worth trying with Carole. The usual approaches to her seemed to be fraught with nothing but discouragement. Perhaps the unusual would work.
He certainly couldn't lose by trying. She was truly a sight that made him stiff. That lovely, flowing blonde hair, just the right shade, and natural. No bleach bottle for Carole. And her body was a gourmet's delight. Carole managed to dress for the full impact on the male libido, whether she realized it or not
From his reading, Bert didn't think she realized what she was doing. A classic case of approach avoidance. She was irresistibly drawn to a male, then did every possible thing she could at the last moment to avoid getting involved. A cock teaser.
Bert knew, if he was right he'd soon have her eating out of his hand. And he'd be eating out of another portion of her anatomy.
But he had to get that all important first date. Then he could try out his scheme and see if it worked. He quietly stalked his quarry, her back to him as he advanced. Bert reached out and laid a gentle hand on Carole's shoulder. For a brief second, both reacted identically.
Bert was treated to a breathtaking vista of Carole's barely fettered breasts from her unbuttoned blouse.
The top three buttons were unfastened in direct violation of the school dress code, but none of the male instructors would dare mention it to her. The few female crones that might, Carole scrupulously avoided. Bert's eyes dived like a bathyscaphe into the Marianas Trench of her twin peaks, studying the terrain of the deep valley between her boobs. If anything, she was better endowed than her mother.
Carole's reaction was different She had been trapped by the very guy she wanted most to avoid.
Bert didn't give her a chance to bolt and run. "Glad I finally found you, Carole. I wanted to ask you to the school dance Friday. Your mother said you hadn't gotten a date yet" Bert added the last to drive home the point that Carole had a duty to go on at least one date with him.
"Oh, well, Bert, I don't know." Her brilliant blue eyes drifted toward the floor as she furiously thought of some lie she could tell that would get her off the hook.
"Sure you can, Carole. No cheerleader practice, no tests or homework due the next day-and you don't have a date." In front of her friends, that latter statement would carry the most pressure. Carole the Nubile could hardly admit to her girlfriends that she hadn't gotten a date for the dance.
The girl's eyes elevated upward until she stared into Bert's ingenuous brown ones. "All right, Bert I suppose I can make it"
He flashed his smile and said, "Great Pick you up at seven. See you Friday. Or before." He waved jauntily as he went to class.
Bert exhaled a long, pent up breath ha relief. So far so good. Now for Friday night
The week spurted by in odd patterns of molasses and. greased lightning. The interminably long parts were in class. The ones that fled by far too fast were occasional after school tutoring lessons with Julia, sometimes both Julia and Barbara, and one long, long session with Alana in the darkroom. He had spent two hours getting the table in the darkroom cleaned and scrubbed of all noxious chemicals. Screwing on a Formica surface wasn't the best of all possible places, but the darkroom did afford a little bit of privacy, a door that could be locked, reason for being gone for an hour or two at a time and did not cause people to ask embarrassing questions.
That aspect no longer bothered Bert. Let them hint and ask all the questions they wanted. He could toss off a jocular answer that may or may not be pertinent to what the inquisitor wanted to know.
Mr. Woodward, for instance, had inquired as to the progress Bert was making on the next photo assignment for the school newspaper. Bert had replied, I'm still working on the basic layout with Alana."
"Yeah," his instructor had answered, "I know that How's the project coming?"
"Coming hard and fast, sir."
Woodward shot him a look that seemed to combine awe, bewilderment and complete amusement
Bert added, Things are developing nicely."
Woodward sighed. "Just be sure to get everything into the stop before you fix it good. Some things don't wash off, you know."
"Right, Mr. Woodward. And some things don't rub off, either."
Woodward had laughed at that. "You hicky son of a bitch. Get out of here!" The man shook his head in wonder when Bert left. It was a miracle of the modern world the change that had come over his photographer. Meek and mousy to a real tiger.
Friday classes seemed to be drenched in glue. Every second was an hour, every hour an eternity. Even algebra class was something of a drag. Miss Mufioz had dressed like a nun, all in black which could have been ultra-sexy but wasn't. Bert found out later she and Mr. Theodore of the ten inch dong had a confrontation, and their relationship was on the skids. Not that he cared, but it did bother him a little. Would Julia demand more of his time? Right when he needed every second he could muster into seducing Carole?
Bert Ellis decided he would cross that bridge when he got to it
Friday's last class vanished and Bert raced home. He had been studying his closet for three days choosing the exact sartorial elegance to don and most impress Carole. He had finally decided that his gray, black and white checked shirt with black pants, black shoes with tiny buckles and black socks would be the most effective.
He pivoted in front of his dresser mirror and studied himself with a critical eye. Bert had to admit that his garb was sinister, made him seem a trifle aloof, and yet no one could say anything was unusual about the costume.
Carole's subconscious would register the full effect, even if her conscious mind did not. And right now, he had to work on her at an elemental level, then work up, hopefully along her legs to her golden furred snatch.
Bert combed his hair and sprayed it with some abominable smelling stuff that was supposed to keep it from flopping all over the place whenever a light wind blew. The dance tonight would require a bit of moving around, and he didn't want to continually have to drag a comb through his hair. It would detract from the cool, suave and slightly bored attitude he wanted to convey.
He left his house at seven o'clock on the dot knowing it would take a minimum of fifteen minutes to arrive at the van der Hoff house. The youth wanted to be intentionally late. All part of his act, his seeming ennui with the whole evening.
The teenager pulled up in front of Carole's house twenty minutes late. He casually walked up the path to the door, knowing Carole was probably watching his every move and seething inside, angry as hell.
The chime had barely died when the door was swung open by Robin. The look on her face was something of a mixture of anger and confusion. In a low Voice she said, "Bert! I thought you'd never get here. Carole's been ready for ten minutes. Do you want to go out with her or not?"
Bert smiled ingratiatingly and said in a normal tone, "Good evening, Mrs. van der Hoff. Is Carole ready yet?"
Robin shot him a venomous look, then motioned him in. He Immediately took his place on the loveseat as Robin said, "Shell be ready in a couple minutes." The civilization-old make the male wait routine, seemed a bit trite and useless since he had turned the tables so neatly. It no longer appeared he was the eager stallion trotting after the filly, but rather that the filly was slightly stupid not being ready after an inexcusable delay.