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    Junior
    Junior
    Junior
    Ebook88 pages1 hour

    Junior

    By Emmanuel

    ()

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    About this ebook

    When a good girl dates a bad boy there's usually one disastrous outcome - rape!
    Date rape accounts for more than half of all rape cases that involves women under 18 years of age.
    The effect of rape on the lives of women is endless.

    Now, let's turn the tables over. What happens when a good boy dates a bad girl? Does she rape him?

    You have never read a story like this before...
    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherAuthorHouse UK
    Release dateMay 21, 2013
    ISBN9781481795296
    Junior
    Author

    Emmanuel

    Emmanuel is a trained spiritual medium; he has had the guidance of James Van Praagh, John Holland, Tony Stockwell, Marilyn Whall and Jose Gosschalk. He is a certified regression therapist under the training of Brian L Weiss, MD, and is a spiritual minister under the Order of Melchizedek Emmanuel has been intuitively, psychically guiding, assisting, and bringing forth messages from spirit for more than twenty years, as well as guiding others through regression therapies. Between homes in New York and Boston, Massachusetts, he and his wife, Elia, travel and enjoy their life on its journey. They are blessed to have built a temple for their own personal spiritual growth. Wherever they go, they both do their best to let their love and light shine. They are grateful that they bring forth a light to be shared by all.

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      Book preview

      Junior - Emmanuel

      Contents

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      3

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      1

      It was Valentine’s Day, the most anticipated and most celebrated day for most young people in my school. It was a day to show love, give out gifts or presents to your boyfriend or girlfriend, if you had any. I didn’t have a girlfriend, in the romantic sense of the word, so I wasn’t expecting the day to present me with anything but the usual stuff—boredom.

      Isolated and desolated, I withdrew myself after the last lesson for the day and went and sat quietly on a bench near the entrance to the school. I sat and watched some of my mates who had girlfriends in the school, hugging and holding on to the hands of their loved ones.

      For the very first time in my life, I longed to be in their shoes. I looked at the Valentine cards and presents they were exchanging with the girls, the light that was shining brightly in their eyes, the smiles on their faces, their joy, and I felt truly jealous.

      Never had the desire to also get myself a girlfriend been so strong. "Why should I always be left out of the fun? Why shouldn’t I also get myself a girlfriend? I wouldn’t have to do the things they do with their girlfriends, I rationalised. I wouldn’t need to start having sex too."

      The thoughts were pervasive, on all sides; the desire to grab myself a girlfriend too strong to push aside. It was there or never!

      I rose from the bench and started roaming around the place like a hungry hawk looking for a hapless chick to prey on. My eyes went wild, they started searching into the faces of girls—the pretty ones alone, I must confess—hoping to find the one invitational bite. A compelling voice within me was telling me there were so many girls walking around desperately looking for a boyfriend, someone to celebrate the Valentine’s Day with.

      But then, like every first time venture, I was unsure of myself. Afraid! I was afraid even when I knew beyond doubt I had seen an open door to a desperate heart. My tongue, the one thing that matters most, the thing that gives voice to the body, just went numb, dead, refusing to go beyond the boundaries of Hi and Hello. No amount of sopping it with saliva and drawing it across the edges of my mouth could awaken it to heed to the burning desires of my heart.

      I looked on despondently as girls whose very being had formed an instant telepathic bond with the hormonal juices in my body walked passed me and went away.

      I had never been so frustrated.

      I will tell myself one moment: It’s not worth getting a girlfriend at 17, and a voice within me will reply, teasingly: You’re saying that because you’re too dumb and can’t get no girlie.

      I felt very, very bitter.

      A deep unbearable sadness came and settled over my heart as the words rolled themselves into a pop song in my head: "You’re too dumb and can’t get a girlie, you’re too dumb and can’t get a girlie, you’re too dumb and can’t get a girlie . . ."

      Oh my God, where were you looking? A female voice suddenly boomed into my thoughts, jerking me back into reality.

      I lifted my head, casually, like a person who had just awoken from a deep slumber. My eyes dazzled and in an instant I felt something eccentric, something electrical, something contrary to all the feelings that had been running within me, pass through my head, down my body to my toes. It wasn’t suicidal.

      It was pure body chemistry.

      Beauty—used loosely—wrote someone, lies in the eyes of the beholder. He is right, and I have no dispute with him. But then, without mincing many words, there are some people whose beauty lies in the eyes of every beholder. It doesn’t matter where you come from, your nationality, race or even gender, you see them and you know in an instant what you are looking at is a classical piece of the Creator.

      The girl that was standing in front of me was one of them.

      Every single feature on her, from the top of her head, right down to the tip of her toes was explicitly spic and span, perfect. Her face was particularly beautiful—no wrinkles, no pimples, no spots—the kind of face that always make many shy boys and even men speechless the first few seconds they stand before it.

      I was speechless. She had it all, what it takes to cause butterflies to run in the head of many a man and make his heart stand straight.

      I, Junior, was totally overawed and enraptured by her beauty.

      Oh! I’m sorry, I… I tried to mumble some words of apology but the words, quite rightly, had deserted me.

      It’s okay! she replied with a bright, cheerful and utterly friendly smile showing a row of perfectly white and even teeth. I wasn’t looking ahead myself. She confessed.

      The smile she gave me was so appealing I felt again that eccentric, electrical feeling pass over my head, through my body and landing at the sole of my feet. I was standing on bare ground but it felt almost as if I was on an electric cable. My legs wouldn’t stop shaking, and my armpits and forehead got very sweaty.

      "Say something nice to her, a voice within screeched at me. Say something. Tell her she looks gorgeous. Be quick. Say it."

      I opened my mouth to unleash the words that the voice within was impressing upon my heart. I could feel my lips moving, but the words were not discernible. I was, to put simply, afraid.

      Did you say something? She asked, having apparently noticed my lips moving.

      I shook my head and then made a second attempt to articulate the words. It’s… it’s… your hair. I like it. It’s beautiful. The words finally spew out of my mouth like a spit.

      Really? She raised an eyebrow.

      I nodded my head.

      She shook her head and started laughing.

      What’s funny?

      She kept laughing.

      What’s funny? I asked again.

      I’m just coming from the saloon out there, she said, pointing her hand.

      And?

      She started laughing again.

      What’s so funny?

      I had a row with the hairdresser, she replied finally.

      You had a row with the hairdresser?

      She nodded.

      "Why?

      Can’t you see what she’s done to my hair? Look at the sides, and the back. It really looks horrible.

      No it doesn’t. It looks great. Trust me, she really did a great job.

      I hope you’re not just trying to flatter me.

      Of course not! Why would I? You look gorgeous. And sexy too, I added under my

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