2.
 Alas, her attraction to him lasted little more than a day. Charlie saw her walking home with the captain of the basketball team. No matter, he knew where her window was. The boys wondered what if anything was becoming of Laurie's tits, as they so crudely put it. With his friends the owl, the bat, and the moon, Charlie gazed contentedly through a fault in the Venetian blinds. Yes, she did have breasts though small, with large chestnut nipples, and they even wobbled a bit when she did the back high split. She had a habit of grasping her hands against her bare belly and turning this way and that to admire herself in the mirror. Charlie would grow excited (but never touched himself, for guilt and fear) and when his pants got wet he would steal softly home like a wild Indian returning from the hunt.
One evening, as he watched Laurie, a dog started barking ferociously. The Tomasinis had gotten a shepherd with slavering muzzle and vicious looking teeth. It thudded up to the fence and started cutting the air with axe-blow barks that hurt Charlie's ears and scared him. Charlie slipped and fell, getting muddy. A door opened, and Mr. Tomasini appeared carrying a rifle and a flashlight. Laurie's hand pushed open the blinds, her other hand covering one breast. A chestnut nipple looked at Charlie; it was the last he ever saw of Laurie; and he would carry a lifetime memory of the loathing and fury in her eyes. A gunshot cracked through the air, and Charlie ran like hell.
Next day at school, the principal called him in. "Charlie, were you near Laurie Tomasini's house last night?"
"Nossir," Charlie said forthrightly.
The principal's face showed uncertainty and disgust. "Charlie, Mr. Tomasini filed a complaint with the police about a peeping tom. He says Laurie thinks she saw you, but she's not sure, so they can't prove anything. You're lucky it won't go any farther than this. Don't do that again or you'll wind up in jail one day. Do you understand?"
"Sir, I am innocent," Charlie said with humble honesty.
But his mother somehow knew. She told Charlie: "You'll come to no good end, boy!"
In high school, a similar episode took place. The young lady in question was Mary Salada, who could have passed for a slightly more mature Laurie. Same Mediterranean beauty, but fuller body, and a faint Puerto Rican accent. Mary and Charlie went together for a week during sophomore year. Then she shut him out, saying angrily: "You have no soul. You have no insides, man. You just look and look, you stare like a mutt. In six weeks, we've barely held hands and you never tried to kiss me. Is there something wrong with my mouth?"
"Oh...I could kiss you now if you want."
"Don't bother," she said picking up her books and flying off to class. Within days, he'd see her off with a senior who had a tough, serious face and his gaze told Charlie to stay away. Charlie, wounded, visited the night again. The owl, the bat, the moon, and the trees did not downgrade him, did not accuse him. He picked up his old skills where he had left off, only better. He gazed with satisfaction on Mary's smooth form as she showered and toweled and lay for ten minutes under a sun lamp.
There were more episodes during the ensuing years, each bringing Charlie closer to the attentions of school authorities and police. Once, he was arrested under a woman's window. A second time, a few years later in college, it was near the window of a girl who played on the basketball team. The third time was near the ladies' room at the park. Now, Charlie had a choice: Risk jail as a sex offender, or submit to psychological counseling.
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Copyright © 2018 by Jean-Thomas Cullen, Clocktower Books. All Rights Reserved.
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