>climb the rope

You have been dreading this day for months.  You are gripped with fear as you look at the rope rising from your feet to the ceiling of the gym.  You can’t do this, you think to yourself.  You’ve tried before and you simply can’t make it to the top.  You glance at the other girls standing around you.  Some are chatting with each other, unconcerned about the ordeal that is about to commence; others look up at the rope like you do, wondering why they are being tortured like this.

You’re not fat or skinny; you have just never been quite as strong, quite as agile, quite as coordinated as the other girls your age.  You participate in gym class and usually manage to keep up with the others but there is some archaic, arbitrary rule that says no one can get an A in the class without being able to make it to the top of this darn rope.  You have As in all your other classes and it seems ultimately stupid that a bit of twine is what might stand in the way of perfect grades.

The teacher calls your name and you step forward to grasp the rope in your hands.  You know how to do it, technically speaking.  You’ve watched the other girls get to the top so you know it’s possible.  Heck, you’ve even watched the guys and some of them can make it without even using their legs.  They make it look so easy.  You reach up, grip the rope tightly and pull yourself up, wrapping your legs around the rope as you do.  With the rope trapped between your legs you raise your bottom hand above you top and pull yourself up a couple of inches.  So slow, you think, and you’ve only just started.

You repeat the process over and over again, pull up, wrap legs around rope, reach up with other hand, pull up, and repeat.  After what seems like an hour or so you risk a look down and are amazed and dismayed at how little space is between you and the rubber mats that cover the floor.  Then you look up and think you can just make out the gym ceiling, a mile or so above you.  You actually think about quitting, about just sliding down and saying you can’t do it.  You can still get a B if you don’t make it.  All As and one B isn’t bad is it?  It’s a lot better than most do isn’t it?  Then you take another look down and notice some of the girls smiling.  Only smirking would be a better word.  They are the ones that said you wouldn’t make it to the top in a million years.  With the thought of wiping those stupid smirks of their stupid faces you turn you attention back to the rope.

With new determination you attack the rope, inching your way higher.  You seem to slip back a foot or so for every six inches of progress you make but it must be the other way around since you do appear to be getting higher.  You are about half way up now and your arms are burning.  The teacher told you that if you wrap you legs around the rope tight enough that you could ease the pressure on your arms to rest them a bit.  You try it now but as you ease off your hands’ grip of the rope you again slide a few inches down before catching yourself.  Your arms hurt and the rope burns your legs as it slides across the bare skin revealed by the, in your opinion, way too short shorts that you are forced to wear.  But for the first time you notice a different sensation between your legs, up where they meet, at your – vagina.  It didn’t hurt there, you’re surprised to note that it actually felt kind of good there.

Trying to put it out of your mind you begin your trek again but now that you’ve noticed it, it seems like it is impossible to ignore.  Every time you pull yourself up and wrap your legs around the rope it hits that spot.  And every time it feels a little better.  This is something that you weren’t expecting and it gives you another reason to continue.  Reach, pull, ahh.  Reach, pull, ooh.  You’re not sure what is going on.  All you know is that you want to get to the top of this rope, you have to reach the top.

You look up again and your heart leaps at how close you are.  You manage to pick up the pace a little more, the rope sliding faster between your legs and you are no longer sure that physical effort is the only reason for your grunts and heavy breathing.  Almost there, just a bit more, just touch the ring at the top and you’re done.  Something is building inside of you, you’re going to make it, you really are, you’re going to get there, reach the top, show them all, you feel like you’re going to explode.  Then you reach up, grab the ring, and exploding is just what it feels like.

You yell out and you suspect that to the girls below it looks like a yell of triumph and celebration but that’s not it at all.  The moment you touched that ring a wave of pleasure swept through your body like nothing that you have ever felt before.  Starting between your legs at the place the rope has been rubbing against for the last two or three days since you started climbing it, it spread out to every inch of your body.  It was so surprising and felt so good that you almost forgot yourself and let go of the rope, only remembering at the last instant to hold on as the sensation slowly passed.

You ease your way down with the rope sliding between your legs again and much faster than on the way up.  It still feels good but nothing like that moment at the top.  You drop to the ground and receive congratulations from the teacher and a few friends as the other girls mutter under their breath and turn away.  You glance up at the rope, which has been your enemy for as long as you can remember.  From this day on you will never have to even touch it, much less climb it.  And all you can think of is that you can’t wait to try it again.