The Elusive Bug Bite (GM)

I had a great girl moment today while I was out for a walk, enjoying the cool autumn day. The weather wasn't the greatest, but it wasn't raining, so I had decided to take a short walk around the neighbourhood. Along the way I noticed a little girl about 7 years old riding her bike up and down the street, back and forth. After a couple times of her passing me by, I waved at her and said hello. She smiled and pleasantly said hi, without stopping or slowing.

The next time, however, she came up behind me and slowed her bike to keep pace with me, side by side. I greeted her again and smiled. She giggled and smiled back. She asked if I liked her bike and I said I did. To be honest, it was just a bike. What I really liked was the girl it belonged to. ;-)

She then hopped off the bike, lifting her leg up and over and seat as if dismounting from a horse. She walked along beside me, with her bike on the opposite side of her so that it didn't get between us, or so she didn't accidentally hit me with it. She told me that she hoped it would snow this winter. I agreed and asked what she liked to do when it snowed. She said, "Have snow ball fights and make snow men." We laughed, and I told her about a big snow track me and my dad made once when I was a kid. And how we'd race down it on our sleds so fast that we'd fly off the turn near the end and get launched into the air.

As we talked for a few minutes, I noticed that she kept reaching her right arm under her white long-sleeve shirt and scratching her high left side. Each time I had a nice glimpse of her firm little girl belly and her little belly button. I tried to act like I didn't even notice, and just continued to talk with her. Finally she stopped walking and growled, putting her bike down on the side walk. I asked if she was ok and she said, "No I've got an itchy spot and its hard to get." She tucked her right arm under her shirt again and searched out the itchy place on her left side, this time pulling her shirt up almost high enough to reveal her left nipple. But not quite. Relief washed over her face and I laughed. "I guess you got it that time." She nodded and pulled her arm back out from under her shirt.

She turned so her left side faced me and without a second's hesitation lifted her shirt high so that the left side bunched up at her neck. Her arms were both high in the air disappearing into the white fabric of her sleeves, one arm curled up behind her head, the other holding her shirt up. "Can you see it?" she asked as she stared up at me. There was no flirtation in her question or eyes, it was a simple question. I probably gulped hard, a bit taken aback. Her entire middle was bare, and so too was her whole left side. I could see one light pink nipple surrounded by gloriously flat and smooth peach skin. The ribs on her left side were visible because she was stretching, and I could see her cute little arm pit facing straight towards me. Just beneath her lifted arm, and a slight distance around to her back, was a fairly large patch of pink skin caused by her attempts at scratching. I said, "I think so. I can see you've been scratching lots." "Is it a mosquito bite?" she asked. I leaned in close, my head only a foot and a half away from her skin. And sure enough, I saw the itchy little bump in the midst of the slightly irritated skin. "Yup, looks like it." I told her as I stood straight. She sighed heavily and scratched the spot again before letting her shirt fall back down.

"I hope I don't have any more," she said as she bent over and picked her bike back up. "I hope you don't either," I said truthfully, trying to recover a bit from the wonderful view I'd just been blessed with. I spoke, "Mosquitos love me. I always get bites from them." She nodded seriously and said that she did too. Then a sparkle skipped across her brown eyes and she giggled. "But these ones aren't bug bites," she said, poking her chest through the shirt where her nipples were. "They're always there. And they don't itch." We both laughed and started walking again.

"That's my house there," she said, pointing to a pretty yard and a drive way with two vehicles parked. The building was a good size, like most in the neighbourhood, with two floors and a slight heritage style to the outward appearance. I smiled and pointed behind us a short distance. "That one over there is my house." "I know," she said. She hopped back on her bike and adjusted the pale lavender helmet she wore, which hid much of her straight light brown hair. "You're nice," she said. "I hope we can talk again." I smiled. "That would be nice." We then told each other our names and said our good byes. She sped off down the street and I watched her go.

A mild wave of sadness washed over me, momentarily replacing the glow of being in J's presence. That was the best I'll ever get to know her, I thought glumly. To see her beyond random chance or become friends would just worry people. But maybe I'll get lucky and we'll pass each other sometimes, and say hi. If I was still a teenager or younger, I'd make an effort to hang out with her. But not anymore, especially not these days. It would cause too much suspicion, a single guy with no kids of his own, playing with a pretty girl from the neighbourhood. But at least I had a nice girl moment to remember.