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This is the eleventh part, of many, about me and one incredible year in my life. I want to make it clear that everything in these stories is true. In a couple of instances where my memory failed me (it has been a dozen years) I have taken a few liberties but have based them on the facts I do remember. The names, except my own, have been changed and a few minor alterations were made to meet the requirements of this site. I've tried to capture as best I can the detail of each of these moments. To me, the detail contains the true eroticism of each event. Feedback is welcome.

The formal was approaching quickly now. Only two weeks to go. I had settled on an emerald dress which my mother and Anna agreed really suited me. Daniel was going to be wearing the traditional black tuxedo and he was as excited about the big event as I was. The more I saw of him the more I found to like about him. I loved his sense of humour and the way he could make fun of me but always make me feel better because of it.

In some ways though I felt a sense of frustration over Daniel. It was clear he liked me and I thought it was quite obvious that I like him. Yet he never touched me. At the bus stop, I always stood as close to him as I dared, hoping our bodies would brush against each other or he would take my hand, but it never happened. Anna and Mark held hands whenever they could. He called her almost every night and they spoke for hours. I wanted Daniel to be like that. I wanted a boyfriend, ...

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