- Alice!

We simultaneously lift our heads and look in different directions: she is in the direction of the girl who had called her in a whisper, and I was pointing at her. From adolescence this name acts fascinatingly to me. In my view, all Alice are extremely attractive and mysterious. Although, to tell you the truth, I have not met any of them live, but what's the difference? The main thing is that this girl did not disappoint my expectations.

Loose dark-white hair is clearly a natural color, light blonde blouse, pleated skirt, to determine the exact length of which is difficult because of a sitting position. Now she barely covers her knees.

Alice again bends over the book, quickly writes something on a notebook sheet. I'm not up to the note. I lift the book, deliberately stare at the page, secretly mowing my eyes.

The girl who called Alice comes up to her table and sits next to the second chair. They lean towards each other and whisper. Alice shakes her head, as if denying something and moves away a little as far as the width of the chair allows. Her friend looks around, and I, feeling her gaze stop on me, diligently narrow my eyes, staring at the book. I am the only one sitting behind them in a long half-empty reading room, from those who are far in front, they are safely covered by the lower part of the table. The girl turns to Alice, and I can watch again. A thin palm, cramping the hem, slides from the knee over the thigh and hides under the folds of the skirt. Alice shudders, squeezes her knees and, tearing herself away a little further, almost falls off a chair that suddenly ended, but she manages to grab the edge of the table. This noisy movement scares her very, and she begins to look around, like her friend a minute ago. Her actions did not attract anyone's attention. Soon I feel her eyes on me, but I continue to diligently read the contents of the book. Apparently, this calms Alice, she looks at her friend, and now I can sneak a peek into her profile. Her body begins to tremble a little, and a light blush appears on her cheek. She opens her knees, as if giving up, and unexpectedly dives herself with her hand under someone else's skirt. Their backs close, and I can't see anything more, except for two trembling bodies, but, straining my ears, I catch their quickened breathing. Time stops and the minutes are lost.

Finally, a friend rises from the chair and, straightening her skirt, hurries to the exit. Here I admit blunder, I look after her too long and, turning my head, I meet with Alice's gaze. We silently look at each other, and I feel the face being covered with the same paint as Alice’s cheeks. Only instead of her "nagging blush" is the blush of shame. I can not accurately interpret the expression of her brown eyes, but I catch the main thing: she knows what I saw.

Alice looks away, gets up and goes to hand over the book with ostentatious ease. Then comes back, puts the pen and notebook in the bag. She passes by me, dropping her eyes, and hides behind the door.

I do not know if they are lesbians, or is it the casual indulgence of two females in juice, who are driven by publicity and the fear of being caught, but I understand that now I can’t find the determination to go to Alice someday. She is probably from the first course, and we will face three years at the institute.

And I also understand that my dick is hopelessly excited and badly pulling on pants. If I carry the book, everyone will instantly see it. Therefore, I diligently fix my gaze on dead words without comprehending their meaning.

I know my dick. It will take a long time to wait.