>>1624010I was really surprised to see the story in the pastebins. I guess I can finish it up now that I have time. Where we left off, people had decided to try their luck with the security guard. So, without further ado, here is the next part.
You decide that appearing on the 5 o’clock news as a trespassing streaker would probably end your life as you know it, so you’ll just have to put up with the pervy security guard.
After a few countdowns and more than a few motivational monologues, you can feel yourself walking toward the gate. Every slight breeze of the night air seems to amplify the sensation of being stripped nude. Each time your bare feet touch the rough cold ground beneath you, your heartbeat quickens.
You muster up the most convincing puppy dog face you can and slow to a stop at the security guard’s desk.
The guard is old enough to be your father, his hair is beginning to gray, but he doesn’t have many visible wrinkles. He has his eyes fixated on a book called "Make-Out Paradise." He doesn’t look up at you as you approach him. All he does is grunt tiredly in acknowledgement.
You figure that he must not know about your abnormal attire, or lack thereof, because he is so calm. You know that he could look up any second, and wonder what he would do to you. You ponder the idea of just walking past him, hoping that he wouldn’t notice but decide that it’s too risky, so, after much deliberation, you say
“E-Excuse me?”
“What is it?” His tone appears to be much friendlier after hearing your girlish voice, but he still doesn’t bother to look. This is a relief.
“I-I was wondering –“ He looks up. For a second your eyes meet, but as soon as he realizes what he’s looking at, he begins inspecting your body. You instinctively cover up with your hands, but it’s too late, he’s already seen everything.
