I happen to think that every high school as that perfect couple. That pair that seem as though they were made for each other. They are inseparable, look great together, do everything together and every other couple wants to be just like them. In my school that couple was Paul and Sheryl. I had known Sheryl for six years, which is a long time for someone in high school. She was one of the most beautiful girls in school and I use her as my benchmark for the perfect woman to this day. She was the oldest daughter of a well-off, well respected family; a good church going girl and a model student. She possessed the most gorgeous blond hair I have ever seen. She would wear it swept from the left to the right side of her face and let it cascade down to just below her shoulders. It was the kind of hair that when she shook her head would fly gently in the breeze, each blond strand catching the light and then falling perfectly back into place. She had piercing blue eyes that sparkled with life. Her skin was unblemished, beautiful and soft with the healthy glow that only a tan can give. Her face was perfectly proportioned with high cheek bones and just a hint of color, red full lips and a picture-perfect smile. She was a bit on the thin side, a narrow waist with breasts that just filled a ‘B’ cup. But her hips and ass were perfect and she was blessed with stunningly beautiful long smooth legs. In a nutshell, Sheryl had it all. She was beautiful, she was bright, she was personable and she was polished.   She was fun to be around, she had lots of friends, she had a good family and most of all, she had Paul. Paul entered the picture when we were freshmen, a transfer from another school. His good looks were quite the conversation piece for the female student body when he arrived; sandy blond hair, athletic build, friendly eyes and engaging smile. And even though he made the Junior Varsity football team as a freshman he wasn’t your stereotypical jock. He was a good student and a personable guy; a likeable guy. Of course, maybe I say that because he liked me. And maybe he liked me because I was a long-time friend of Sheryl. Either way we all got along pretty well. Sheryl met Paul the second half of our freshman year and instantly everyone predicted they would get together. The complication at the time was that Sheryl was involved with someone else. That all changed over the summer. And by the fall of our sophomore year Sheryl and Paul were a couple; the perfect couple. They did everything together, all the parties, all the dances; they took classes together, were both on the school paper. They both got cars during their junior year. Sheryl stenciled Paul’s name on her passenger door, and Paul stenciled Sheryl’s name on his! They were never seen fighting, and never had a bad thing to say about each other. There was no drama between the two of them. They had found the perfect love in each other. There was no question in anyone’s mind that the two of them would go off to college together, both land successful careers, get married, have two kids and live the perfect life. Me? I was truly just your Joe Average student; though my name is Jim. I wasn’t a bad lookin’ dude; I got my share of dates. I earned fairly good grades and Lettered in tennis. I liked music too, that’s one thing Sheryl and I had in common. We were both in the school choir and I played trumpet in the band. Paul liked sports, Sheryl and I enjoyed music. However, one thing we all had in common was our age. We all turned 17 years old the summer before our Senior year. A year that turned out to be one of the best in my life. I don’t like to think of myself as a band geek, but I truly did enjoy the marching band. Despite what you might have heard band members did have some pretty good parties! Consequently I did spend a fair amount of time in the music building; putting in a little extra practice and pitching in when I could.  And that’s exactly what I ended up doing on a warm autumn afternoon during my senior year. The Homecoming Game was just a week away and the marching band was preparing for the half-time show. Mr. Peterson, the band director had managed to get all the band members together for a full dress rehearsal during the last period of the school day. The rehearsal went about as well as could be expected and after an hour on the field all one hundred members piled back into the music room to disrobe. Mr. Peterson was a bit fastidious about his uniforms and equipment and he insisted all the gear be returned to their closets and lockers. The closet for the uniforms was located at the back of the band room in a long corridor. Finishing rehearsal marked the end of the school day and everyone rushed through the band room to the doorway of the uniform Anadolu Yakası Escort closet to get rid of their gear. Being quick, I happened to be one of the first people in the closet. The place was so jammed with disrobing band members I couldn’t exit the room. So I told everyone to just drop all their uniform pieces in the corridor and I would put them all away. There was not a single objection to my offer and soon the corridor was piled high with pants, blazers and feathered hats! After the last band member threw his uniform on top of the pile Mr. Peterson poked his head into the corridor. “You sure you want to do this?” he asked, “This is going to take you a while.” “It shouldn’t take too long.” I replied. “I usually take the late bus home anyway.” “Well, I appreciate you doing this, it’s a big help. I’ll leave the outside band room door open, but I’ve got to get home. Is that alright with you?” Mr. Peterson asked. “That’ll be fine.” I replied. “I’ll make sure the doors are all closed behind me.” With that Mr. Peterson smiled, turned on his heels and let the uniform room door close. So there I was, surrounded by one hundred band uniforms strewn all over the floor. The corridor was narrow and about thirty feet long with the only entryway behind me. Along one wall were two huge wooden doors. Inside each door were long tunnels about twenty feet deep. On each side of these tunnels were hangars for the uniforms. The tunnels were about six feet high. At the top of each tunnel ran a shelf that went about ten feet deep. Uniform hats were kept on these shelves. This entire closet was made of pine that still maintained a smooth finish. When originally constructed, the closet had a long sliding ladder, the kind that used to be found in better libraries. The legs of the ladder had a set of wheels while the top had rollers that rode on a pole. That way you could stand on the ladder and move yourself with ease from one end of the closet to the other. But the ladder broke years ago and the music department didn’t have the money to repair it. So, Mr. Peterson brought in an old wooden ladder to use. This ladder stood on two legs and had to be leaned up against the shelf to get to the hats. The problem was that the ladder was also made of wood and was VERY slippery on the wooden floor. To help relieve some of the slippage Mr. Peterson had stuck some duct tape on the bottom legs, but that didn’t help much. The net result was that anyone using the ladder had to be very careful or it would slip and you would find yourself face down on the hard pine floor. After the door closed behind Mr. Peterson I ambled to the middle of the mess. There was a single chair there and a wheeled cart waiting for my use. After 45 minutes of serious work it had gotten rather hot and stuffy in the room and I stripped down to my T-shirt and running shorts. I was done putting the uniforms away. The only thing left to do was put the hats up. That involved removing the feather plumes attached to the front of the hats, put them in their plastic bags and put the hats on the shelf. I kicked all the hats to the center of the corridor, sat down on the chair and started removing plumes. I was removing the plume from my fourth hat when I was startled by the sound of the corridor door opening. The light from the band room spilled in as someone stood in the doorway. “Hi Sheryl, what brings you here?” I asked. My perfect Sheryl stood at the door, her blond hair bouncing on her shoulders, a packet of books in her hand. She was wearing a white peasant dress, which was very popular in the day. It was made of heavy cotton with wide shoulders straps accented with lace. The neckline was generous, squared off at the sides with ornate embroidery and sequins across the front. There were small lace covered holes down the sides of the dress and a one inch border of lace at the hem which fell half way down Sheryl’s thigh. As she stood at the doorway the light from the band room shone through the fabric of her dress and I found I could make out the silhouette of her shapely legs. I averted my stare for modesties sake. “I’m looking for Mr. Peterson, is he back here? I have some music books to return.” “No,” I answered, “he’s gone for the day.” “Well then what are YOU doing back here?” she asked. “Ah, I told him I’d put the band uniforms away. I’m almost done.” “Are you kidding?” she exclaimed, “You must be a glutton for punishment!!” “Probably, but I’m almost done.” I repeated. “Well, do you need any help?” she asked, “I can give you a hand.” “No, that’s ok; you don’t need to do that. Really, I’m just about finished.” Sheryl let the door close behind her as she entered the corridor. “Nonsense,” she exclaimed, Anadolu Yakası Escort Bayan “let me help you. We can get this done in a jiffy.” “Well, what about Paul, isn’t he waiting for you?” I asked. “They’ve got a scrimmage today. He’ll probably be another hour. This will actually work out great for me.” With that Sheryl made her way into the uniform closet. She kicked a few of the hats out of her way as she sat herself down on a rung of the ladder directly across from me. But as she put her weight down, the ladder started to slip forward. “Whoa!” cried Sheryl as she dug the heels of her pumps into the floor, her legs parting slightly, her arms flailing and the hem of her dress riding high on her thigh. Instinctively I reached out and grabbed her knee preventing her fall. Her smooth skin felt cool to the touch and I took in the sight of her beautiful tanned legs. “Yeah, you need to be careful with that ladder,” I cautioned, “I think Mr. Peterson keeps it here to get rid of students he doesn’t like!” Sheryl laughed and scooted herself back up on the ladder. I caught a quick glimpse of something white beneath the hem of her dress as I removed my hand from her leg. “I wouldn’t be surprised.” She said as she regained her composure and started scanning the floor for a hat to grab. I handed her the hat I had in my hand and explained what she needed to do. She smiled, reached her hand inside the front of the hat and started undoing the grommet that held the plume in place. I watched her hands as she started to work. Then my eyes changed focus and started traveling up her slender tanned arms, her tiny blond hairs catching the light. My eyes moved up to her flexing bicep then suddenly darted horizontally. Sheryl was hunched slightly forward on the ladder and busy at work. Seated in that position the neckline of her dress had fallen forward and I found myself looking directly at her chest. The way she was sitting I could see all the way down to her stomach. I could clearly see both her breasts, gently cupped in a soft white bra. The bra must have been a demi-cup because I could take in most of her small firm breasts. Again I turned my head sharply away when my mind realized what I was staring at. ‘What the hell am I doing?’ I asked myself.   ‘I can’t sit here stealing looks down Sheryl’s dress! Sheryl is my good trusted friend! One of the nicest people I know. She would NOT like it if she knew I was starting at her tits; she’d lose all respect for me. Show some restraint dude, look someplace else.’ Sheryl placed the plume of the hat in a plastic bag and threw it in the box on the cart. She then placed the hat on the cart. “One down!” she announced proudly and immediately began looking for another hat. I smiled and joined her in the search for more hats. We both bent over and as I did my eye caught the light off Sheryl’s golden hair as it cascaded past her shoulder. As we both picked up a hat and retook our seats, the strands of her hair parted and a second later I was once again looking at the soft smooth skin of her upper chest. Before my mind could protest my eyes slid easily down the front of her dress and once again took in her breasts. Sheryl maintained a steady stream of small talk as she concentrated on her work. I listened and offered polite, if not benign responses. Truth is, my mind had been hijacked by Sheryl’s beauty and was contentedly nestled in her cleavage, reveling in the soft contours of her breast.   Each time Sheryl would twist the grommet in the hat, the muscles in her chest would cause her breasts to jostle in her bra exposing just that little bit more to my devouring eyes. At times my gaze would be rewarded by a fleeting glimpse of her light pink areola. Still my mind ached for and expended an incalculable amount of energy trying to will the cup of her bra to slip ever so slightly so that I might take in the ultimate prize; a delicious pink nipple. Unfortunately that prize remained resolutely and tantalizingly out of view. No matter how many hats she picked up, no matter how hard my mind tried. The cabinet had been getting warm and stuffy before Sheryl arrived and I now found it stifling. Taking in Sheryl’s body clearly raised my body temperature and beads of sweat were evident on my forehead. I raised my head and mopped my brow. As my eyes left her breasts my moral compass switched on and I again found myself asking how could I be doing this? How could I be stealing looks at Sheryl’s body?   Why couldn’t I be a gentleman, show some class, some discipline. The hard truth was that as unethical as I thought my actions were, I found stealing looks at her delicious body extremely exciting. I got an extraordinary erotic thrill looking Escort Anadolu Yakası at her forbidden fruit. And there was definitely an extra measure of excitement knowing I was stealing these glances from someone so perfect, so proper, so revered… so unaware. And that excitement was settling itself deep within my loins and the affect was evident in my engorging cock. Despite the thrill, my mind would not stop berating me. My conscience kept challenging me to show some integrity – get up stand on the other side of the room, stare at the ceiling, do something – just stop looking at Sheryl’s tits! I lowered my head as Sheryl raised hers. “You ok?” she asked, “you look a little flush.” “It’s warm in here, don’t you think?” I said dabbing my forehead. “No, it feels good to me.” she replied with her cheery smile. With that she threw a plume in the box and slammed a hat on the cart. “Done!” she cried, “See I told you we’d get this done in a snap!” I looked at her with incredulity and then looked around on the floor. She was right, all the hats were done. I was so deeply engrossed in Sheryl’s cleavage I had not noticed our progress. Sheryl got up and walked around the closet, rubbing the pain of sitting on the ladder off of her backside. In many ways I was relieved to see we were done with the hats. The job was certainly completed much earlier than I had planned thanks to her help. However, I think I was most grateful that I no longer had to fight the urge to look down her dress. I took the hat I was finishing and threw it on the cart. “Thanks Sheryl, I really appreciate your help.” “Well, don’t they still have to be put away?” she asked pointing to the shelves. “Yeah, but that won’t take me very long and there’s really nothing you can do to help, I mean only one person can be on the ladder at a time!” I said in jest as I (stupidly) jumped onto the first rung of the ladder. It immediately slipped out from beneath me and I found myself crashing to the floor. “Whoa Jim, are you alright?” Sheryl cried as she ran to help me. “Shit, that was stupid.” I said as I pulled myself back to my feet. I hobbled over and leaned on the cart massaging my forearm which took the brunt of the fall. Sheryl stood beside me asking if I was alright. “Yeah, I’m fine,” I said sheepishly, “just got to be careful around that damn ladder!” “Well, look,” Sheryl said, “one of us should hold the ladder while the other puts the hats away. You’re bigger than me so you can hold the ladder for me.” Still smarting from the pain I looked through the corner of my eye at the ladder. “Nah, it’s too dangerous.” I said, “I should climb the ladder”. “You’ve already tried that,” she laughed, “and look at what happened!” “Ha!” I spat back. “Besides, I’m lighter. Look, pull the cart up to the ladder and I’ll put the hats away.” Sheryl repeated, pointing to the cart and walking to the ladder. I crossed over to the cart considering Sheryl’s proposal as she stepped on the ladder. When she placed her foot on the second rung, the ladder pivoted on its left leg and started to swing around. I instinctively reached out, my right hand grabbing the top of the ladder, my left hand grabbing Sheryl just above her knee. “This may not be such a great idea.” I said swinging the ladder back into position. “No, this will work.” Sheryl insisted, “Just don’t let go of me.” With that she continued her climb up the ladder, my left hand holding her leg. Sheryl only needed to climb to the third rung in order to reach the hat shelf. As she finished her ascent, I moved behind the ladder and jammed my feet behind its legs holding them in place. I then released my grip on the top of the ladder and pulled the cart closer in. “That’s good!” Sheryl said as the hat laden cart bumped the ladder. I checked the security of the cart then turned to check the security of Sheryl. As I did I turned to discover my face no more than a foot away from Sheryl’s ass. My left hand was firmly gripping her right leg just above her knee and the hem of her dress was just below eye level. I started to think about how awkward this could end up being, just as Sheryl bent over to grab a hat off the cart. The hem of her skirt almost brushed my face as she reached for the cart. I threw my head back to avoid making contact. She then straightened up, hat in hand and reached to place it on the edge of the shelf. With rapped attention and exploding anxiety I watched as the hem of Sheryl’s skirt rose up the back of her thighs until the powder blue cotton of her panties came into view. My hand felt her muscles strain as she rose up on her toes in an attempt to reach the back of the shelf. Reaching as far as she could caused her skirt to rise slowly until half her panties were completely exposed; her perfect, shapely ass not more than a foot from my feasting eyes. ‘Jesus.’ I exhaled as my heart began hammering and my throat went dry. As Sheryl struggled to place the hat I studied the body presented before me; the way the soft cotton of her panties followed the contours of her ass and smoothly blended with the skin of her thigh.