Punk Rock Girl - The School Dance – Ch-1
Mm/f, nc, humil, exhib

By She Cries
Any feedback is welcome at she_cries@ftml.net.  
You can find my home page at /~she_cries/
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    I looked myself over again, still not sure whether I
should go with the dress or find a shirt that looked as good
with the skirt.
     I knew Alan wouldn’t care.  He really didn’t pay much
attention to what I wore, but he was sweet, and seemed to
like me a lot.  I figured that if he ever got it in his head
to get serious about me, then I’d get to start showing him
how to not dress like a total dork.
     The netted dress was an interesting amalgamation of
styles, tapered tight just below the knee, but just elastic
enough to walk; with a big, poofy fringe around the bottom.
It had a very low back and the elastic top clung to the arms
leaving my shoulders bare, held up with a thin little strap
over the neck.  Unless you were as skinny as me you’d have
to step into it, one leg at a time.  Even then, I was
generally too scared of tearing it to try pushing it over my
hips, which meant that peeing involved dropping the dress to
your ankles, but I guess that’s why the girls’ bathroom had
doors on the stalls, and the guys’ didn’t.
     I didn’t really want the skirt of the dress so much as
the poofy fringe and the thick but sparse mesh top.  I’m a
really skinny girl, and though I had sprung up a fairly nice
chest in the past year and a half since I’d started high
school it wasn’t the massive rack that made guys stupid,
which was just as well as far as I was concerned; Though I
could have gone without all the top-heavy comments I got
going from class to class every day since I still had
absolutely no ass.
     The point being that the see through top compensated by
letting me flaunt some skin, since the mesh was so widely
spaced, made up of quarter sized holes, and though I wasn’t
really looking to scam, I wanted to look good just for the
sake of looking good; even if the rest of school thought I
stole my clothes from bums and clowns.
     Since I’d never get into the dance with just a bra
underneath I had pulled on an old Siouxie T-shirt, which had
been hacked off in the middle to show my belly-button ring
(which I tore out when they got too trendy in the 8th grade
leaving an ugly, if tiny, scar), and I’d proceeded to turn
into a tank top by cutting the collar and sleeves off so
only a pair of short strips held it over my shoulders.  Worn
alone I’d get sent home from school since you could see my
boobs right through the arm holes (the low front didn’t
matter since I had about as much cleavage as a twelve year-
old boy), and should I have to raise my arms, well, let’s
just say there’d be nothing left to hide.
     I actually liked the combination, since it masked my
ribs, which were still really visible, while showing off my
completely flat tummy and sides.
     Since the dress was mesh all the way down I wrapped the
skirt with a bundle of pink, shiny crepe material I’d looted
from a bridesmaid dress I’d had to wear when I was a kid.
It made a pretty good skirt, especially with the black
ruffle sticking out underneath.  I held it all together with
a couple of skinny, studded belts.
     The drawback was that if I had to pee during the dance
I’d have to strip it all off, since in spite of my
nonexistent hips there would be no way for me to hike all
this junk up past my waist.
     But damnit, I looked good, and decided right then that
I wouldn’t touch a drop of water or punch, and I’d force
myself to pee before I split.  I was a little worried that I
might get my period, I was a couple days past due, but I
stuffed a couple tampons into my little pink bag-purse and
figured I’d be fucked if that happened at the dance anyway.
     I glanced at the clock.  I did have just enough time to
bleach out my roots again, and it would also get the last of
the orange tint from my last dye-job out, but I just didn’t
feel like it.  It’s not like I was fooling anyone about my
hair color, and I wasn’t trying.  I also have to admit I
liked having some roots showing.  It gave truth to the lie
about all the girls who meticulously played blond, as did my
straight bob, hacked off at the jaw line with no styling
whatsoever.  Let the buffies spend every morning doing
themselves up with curlers, hair products, and pins.  I was
better than that.
     Of course, deciding against bleaching I had to spend
the next hour meticulously combing my hair in every
different way to find the perfect place for my inky black
part to show, as well as figuring out the requisite amount
of black eyeliner to put on my lids (answer:  A lot).  I
even took the time to wash and polish my septum ring and my
labret cap.  I had just gotten the little mini spike from
the piercing shop and it stuck out from under my bottom lip
like it was grafted there.  I was still a little unsure
about the septum ring, it sort of reminded me of a little
Hitler mustache, albeit silver and virtually invisible
unless I was looking up, but I’d had the damn thing done, it
was healed, and I wasn’t about to lose it until every
cheerleader in school had one.
     I didn’t like my face, though that didn’t seem to put
off the guys I met in clubs (club lights, I guess, since
they didn’t serve beer at clubs I could get into at
fifteen).  I had pretty good cheekbones and a nice, tiny
nose, but my chin was a tad too square, and my lips were a
bit too puffy for my face, in spite of collagen injections
being all the rage with the rich girls in school.
     I didn’t put a whole hell of a lot more effort into my
outfit, except for a bunch of rings and a really long beaded
chain to wrap around my wrist.  I went over to my desk, the
only piece of furniture in the room besides my bed and a
chair, and threw a bunch of shit off of it looking for a CD
to listen too.  I must have thrown my entire closet on the
damn thing, but I came up with an old Creatures tape, which
must have been left by Darla, my much older best friend who,
at 18, was my guiding light for all things cool and unusual.
She had saved me from a very fucked up freshman year where
I’d spent all my time trying to fit in with the normal kids
and wound up both despised by my peers and unhappy.  I was
still generally despised for being weird, un-hip, out of
touch with important things like which boy-band was hot, or
who won American Idol, as well as being into the occult (I
wasn’t into the occult, but that’s the kind of shit people
come up with when they don’t have a valid reason for
disliking you), but at least I was happy with myself.   I
wasn’t happy in school, and if it weren’t for the prospect
of my first date with a boy I’d never have agreed to go to a
school dance.
     I so much preferred the underage clubs, where people
were so much more honest about themselves.  The lights and
the blaring music, the crazy shit going on in every corner
of the place, I even got off watching the druggies (which
was about everyone but me and Darla, since they didn’t serve
booze).  It didn’t resemble in any way the tight, controlled
environment of kids running around trying really hard to fit
in, get along, be popular, impress your friends...  My whole
lifestyle for the past year had been one of rejecting
anything that involves impressing other people out of hand.
     I’m not saying that I wasn’t doing my damndest to look
good.  I wanted to look sexy, to knock’em dead.  I just knew
that no matter what I did I’d look like a skinny, top-heavy
geek with bad hair and acne (not much, just a few zits
around the sides) who dressed like a clown.  That was fine
with me because when I looked at myself I knew I was the
hottest bitch in the house.
     With that thought in mind I completely stripped naked
and jumped on my bed, moshing like crazy as I turned up the
volume and knocked myself silly to the Creatures’ guitar
licks and obnoxious wailing vocals.
     
     The tape had run out, and I was lying, panting heavily
on the bed when I noticed someone was pounding on the door.
My room being right over the front door I jumped up and
threw the window open.  Was Alan early?
     I saw a boy come out from under the porch awning, and
suddenly became conscious of my nudity.  He was looking up,
probably having heard the window open.  I grabbed a stuffed
rendition of the dragon from Sleeping Beauty and snatched it
to my chest, deep inside me darts of fear punching into my
belly at the thought that he’d seen me naked.
     “Are you Ariel?” he shouted.  I shushed at him.  My
folks were gone for the weekend with my seventh grade
brother, but my neighbors were definitely keeping an eye on
me.  I was not allowed to go out on dates until my sixteenth
birthday, nine months away.  Definitely not when the folks
were out of town.
     “What do you want?” I whispered as loud as I could.
     He replied, but I couldn’t hear him as he tried to
whisper back.  Even a story below me I could tell he was
pretty tuned in to the fact that the dragon didn’t do much
to hide my otherwise exposed boobs.  Scared that I’d alert
the neighbors (who’d have a much better view of me from
across the street) if I encouraged him to talk louder I made
big gestures towards the garage, where I met people when I
was sneaking out.  He looked over there and nodded.
     As fast as I could I ducked back in, pulled my curtains
shut and grabbed the biggest shirt I could find.  I’d be
fucked if someone saw a guy on the porch.  As I stumbled
down the stairs I heard a pounding on the garage door.  The
idiot!  He was supposed to go around the side.  What was
worse was that instead of a shirt I was hauling the batch of
pink material.  It was tied in a big knot and wouldn't cover
me.
     Who cares, I thought.  I’d just peek out the door and
see what he wanted.
     Barefoot and naked I ran through the house and shivered
as my bare feet touched the ice-cold concrete of the garage
floor.  Wincing on little pebbles and bits of cat food
(scattered by my ungrateful feline Bathsheba who I loved
with all my heart nonetheless) I tiptoed over to the back
door.  Not trying to be quiet, but to keep as much of my
feet off the cold floor as possible, which was making my
skin crawl with goose bumps.
     I tried wrapping the fabric around me, but the dumb
shit shouted my name again.  I clutched it in front of me
and opened the door up a fraction.
     Nothing.
     Who was this guy?
     I started to get really nervous and pulled the door
shut.
     Suddenly I heard him pounding again.  “Ariel” he
shouted.
     The idiot was pounding on the front door again.  I
didn’t have time to run through the house, he was going to
get me busted, so I quickly planned a three point sprint:
from the back door to the SUV in the driveway, from there to
the front porch to get this guy to shut up, then through the
hedges back to the back door before he had a chance to turn
around.  I just hoped that my creepy neighbor across the
street hadn’t heard this guy yet because anyone watching’d
get a plum shot of my bare ass – I simply didn’t have time
to figure out how to wrap it.
     The plan worked, but I hadn’t been prepared for just
how fucking cold it was outside with nothing on whatsoever.
I pink wrap kept my front warm enough, but my ass was
blasted with cold air, and my crotch was exposed to the open
air outdoors for the first time, probably since I was an
infant.  Being that exposed and vulnerable sent icicles up
through my tummy and an unpleasant heat tingling down my
spine.  I wanted to pinch my legs together to hide my
womanhood, but there just wasn't enough meat to cover it
from all angles.
     My legs were so skinny that they simply didn’t touch at
all unless I crossed them.  You could put a flat hand
between them sideways and not touch a knuckle to flesh, if
you did it high enough (not that I’d let you).  It was like
blasting canned air between my legs.  That sensation,
combined with the cold vibration in the pit of my tummy left
me pretty shaky as I made my last dash.
     Abruptly, I skidded to a halt, my feet buried in wet,
icy grass.  He was standing right in front of me, looking up
at my window.  I felt my skin crawling, my hair seemed to
stand up on end, my heart was thumping madly in my chest and
my stomach was on fire with a gnawing, consuming flame,
burning up in pain and humiliation as I realized how close I
was to being caught.
     I turned and sprinted to the SUV, panting hard, trying
to keep my rasping throat from squeaking, which it does when
I get excited.  By the time I got to cover and turned around
he was already following me, “Ariel?”
     “Shut up you idiot!” I whispered harshly.  “You’re
gonna get me busted!”
     He squinted at me in the shadows.  He was pretty old,
maybe 19 or 20 from the look of him.  He had on a baseball
jacket, and light blue jeans.  He was pretty straight
looking.  I wondered how the fuck he knew me, “Are you
okay?” he asked.
     “Side door.  Now!” I ordered in an abrasive whisper and
scampering for the shadows behind the garage I ran from him
as fast as I could.
     The door had shut, locked, and in my panicked scramble
to get it opened I dropped the wrap.  The crunch of the
guy’s footsteps on the gravel behind me sent real fear
through my body, and with one great, Herculean effort I
knocked the door open by slamming my naked body against it.
It hurt.  It hurt a lot, but I was safe.  I was damned if I
was going to be seen naked by a boy before I’d even kissed
one.
     Panting and gasping, the flaming sensation firmly
settled in my groin.  I resisted the temptation to slam the
door shut and run and hide under my bed.  It was obvious
this guy wasn’t going away.
     There was a light rap at the door.
     I pulled it open a crack, twisting my body and craning
my neck to see him, “What?”
     “Are you Ariel?” he was finally whispering.
     “Yeah.” I said, “Who the fuck are you?”
     “Wade.”
     “Wade?  What kind of a name is Wade?”
     “Look, are you Alan’s date tonight?”
     “Yeah.” I suddenly got really angry, “He stood me up,
that little fuck!”
     “No he didn’t.” he shouted, and I quickly hushed him
up, calming myself.
     He whispered again, “Look, can I come in, I have to
pee.”
     I bit my lip, and decided to be direct, “I’m not
dressed.”
     He looked down at the rumpled cloth at his feet,
stooping to pick it up, “Is this what you were wearing?”
     I nodded.
     “Alan said you dressed weird, but this is-“
     I cut him off by lunging out and grabbing the wrap,
hoping to god that he hadn’t seen the tit I’d flashed
involuntarily in the process.  It was pretty dark in the
shadows of the streetlight, but the moon was bright and both
of us had had time for our eyes to adjust.  “What do you
want?” I pressed him.
     “I want to pee.”
     “Use the bushes.” I commanded.  “What are you doing
here?”
     “I’m Alan’s brother, he asked me to pick you up.”
     “Where’s Alan?”
     “He got detention, couldn’t find you, missed the bus
home and he’s still at school.  Can I use your bathroom,
please?”
     “I told you to use the bushes.”
     “I can’t go in the bushes.”
     “I do, all the time.” I was exaggerating, but I
couldn’t help but mock this guy’s shy bladder.
     “Come on, I’m doing you a favor here.”
     I scowled at him.  He wasn’t bad looking.  Healthy,
athletic; pretty tall, compared to my five and a quarter
feet.  But he was definitely square, and that always made me
nervous.  Still, if he was Alan’s brother that meant he’d
been out of high school for two years, and that meant he
couldn’t be completely fucked up any more.
     “Let me get something on.”
     “Use that thing.”
     “Just wait.”
     “Man, I really have to go.”
     “This doesn’t work, just wait.” And I started to pull
away, but he snatched my hand,
     “Come on, give a guy a break.”
     I glared at him, “Fuck.  You shut your eyes!”
     “Fine.” And he slammed them shut.
     I trusted him about as far as I’d let him get in the
backseat of a car, which was to say: he'd wind up sprawled
out on the roadside somewhere, preferably after being tossed
at high velocity.  But I also knew I couldn’t leave him
outside.  He’d already proven himself a pest.  I wrapped
myself up in the fabric and grabbed one of his hands.  “Come
on.  Don’t peek.”
     “Wouldn’t dream of it.” He said sardonically.
     “Right, you’re a man.”I quipped pulling him through the
dark garage.
     “Yeah, well, you ain’t all that, little girl.”
     “Fuck you!” I barked.
     “Tough words for a sophomore.”
     I snarled, but I wasn’t really mad at him so much as
that with one arm I couldn’t keep the wrap covering me, and
it had fallen down to my waist in back, threatening to
unravel before I got him inside my fully lit house.  It was
only the darkness in the garage that kept me from panicking
entirely, which was weird, since being naked in a dark place
with a strange guy who wears sports paraphernalia is just
about my definition of scary.
     “Hold on.” I ordered.
     Throwing caution to the wind I took the wrap off and
doffed it on him.
     “What the fuck.”
     “So you don’t peek, now shut up if you don’t want to
pee your pants.”
     The fabric covered him head and shoulders, and though I
was entirely naked I felt a Hell of a lot better about
walking him into my house, with all the lights on.
     I dragged Wade though the garage door, making sure he
didn’t trip and have an excuse to remove the wrap, and
pulled him across the kitchen, past the living room, down
the hall, and finally into the bathroom.  Without a word I
walked out and slammed the door.  “I’ll be ready in ten
minutes.” I said to the door.
     Then before he could change his mind about peeking I
sprinted up the stairs and threw my door shut.  Rifling
through the piles of clothes I grabbed the first panties I
could find, a pink G-string (a gift from my perverted aunt,
but I didn’t want to waste a second in case Wade got
impatient and started banging on my door.  Besides, I liked
the idea of going out in them on my first date – not that
Alan was getting to see them).  Then I rooted around for a
bra, but the only one I could find (my room was really
fucking trashed) was the fucking wonder bra my mom had
gotten me for my birthday.  I hated wonder bras, and had
already grown a size since I’d gotten it.  I pushed a B cup
already and decided it would be better to go without since
the dress was pretty tight in and of itself.
     I carefully stepped into the dress, pulling it up over
my butt with a little effort since my hips had decided to
swell up (marginally) since I'd taken it in for my
fourteenth birthday, but it still fit.  Then I pulled on the
Siouxie shirt, which was still on my bed fortunately, or I’d
never have found it.  Then I started kicking the shit out of
my bed.
     I’d left the wrap with the fuckhead downstairs.
     Cursing myself I pulled my boots on.  They were knee-
high, ribbed vinyl with thick, chunky soles that shot my
height up to a full 5’6”.  I didn’t bother with socks.  I
grabbed the belts and stormed out of my door, counting on
Wade still being in the bathroom.
     He was, but only until I walked up.  The door burst
open, and Wade got an eyeful.
     “You’re wearing that to the dance?”
     I resisted the massive urge to cover myself like some
bashful little girl, though I was every bit as ashamed of my
body as any young teenager would have been.  I knew he could
see right through the skirt to the flaming pink G-string,
but I hoped that the mesh gave some semblance of coverage.
Regardless, I grabbed the door from him and pulled it shut.
     “I need the wrap.” I said through the door.
     “What?”
     “That bunch of pink cloth I had on your head!”
     “Oh.” With that he pulled the door open, I held on so
he’d have just enough room to stick the cloth out.  I
grabbed it and bolted, back up the stairs.
     
     When I finally came down again Wade was sitting in my
living room, his arms crossed, looking really irritated.  He
saw me, and stood up, “You know, you are one strung out
chick.”
     I sought for something bitchy to say, something quip
and harsh, but I was still weary from the incredible
adrenaline rush I’d gotten running around in the buff,
dragging him through my house in the nude (the first time
I’d ever been that exposed with anyone male), and having him
see the slutty pink G-string I was wearing out with his
little brother.  I just didn’t have it in me.
     “You’re not catching me at my best.”
     He shrugged, “Hey, I know I’m early, but you could have
put a robe on or something.  I mean, this isn’t some weird
punk thing, is it?”
     I cocked my head, my resentment of ordinary people
rearing up, “What’s a punk thing.”
     He shrugged again, “You know… Oh, I don’t know.”  He
looked me over, regarding my outfit; “You know you’d be
pretty cute if you were a little more normal.”
     “Yeah, well, I’ll just have to live with that.”
     He was still regarding me like some slab of meat.  “No,
I’m serious, I mean, you’ve got an all right body, cute
face… when we were outside I’d have taken you for, you know,
any normal girl.”
     “I was naked.” I felt my hackles rising, as well as the
boiling heat in my stomach.  It was shooting in vicious jabs
downward into my groin as I remembered being naked with him,
wondering how much he had seen.  A strange tingle crept up
my spine as I felt his eyes crawl over my body.
     “I know, I mean… I couldn’t… Oh, shit, you know.” Wade
explained.
     “If I was naked you’d think I was just any girl.”
     He grinned, apparently not noticing the big frown on my
face, or the fact that I was trembling with embarrassment,
adrenaline, and other things, “Well, yeah.”
     He gave me another once over.
     “You know, the dance just started.  We don’t have to
rush right over.”
     I walked past him, heading towards the garage, “Come
on, we can’t use the front door.”
     He followed me, but didn’t shut up, “What, is it cause
I’m not a weirdo.”
     I silently reminded myself that he was giving me a
ride, and not to antagonize him too much,
     “No, it’s because you’re a dick.”
     So much for not antagonizing him.
     But he didn’t seen willing to be put off.  At all:
“Come on, I mean, you might like it.”
     I froze refusing to turn and face him, “Like what!?” I
knew exactly what he was talking about.
     Still standing behind me I felt him creep up behind me.
A warm hand touched the bare skin of my back.  Totally
unprepared I gasped, holding my breath as my skin started to
crawl, tingles flaring up from his touch and cascading down
my back, rising up into my scalp.  I tried to think up
something to say, but couldn’t let my breath go.
     Another hand found my waist, above the belts, below the
shirt, a gentle squeeze on the muscles down there.  I had to
gasp again as his other hand pushed one of the shirt straps
off my bare skinned shoulder and gently slid over my
collarbone.
     I let out my breath, horrified to hear the high squeak
rise up out of me.  I started to pant: my body alive,
tingling with fear and excitement.  I could feel the frantic
pounding of my heartbeat, and my loins felt like they were
boiling.  It felt like a sword was slowly driving through my
insides, cramping pain, driving downwards.
     His lips were touching my ear, “That’s not so bad, is
it?”
     Snapping out of this incredible arousal that was
enveloping me I snatched his hand and pushed it away,
stomping forward a few steps before wheeling on him.
     Thank god for the stupidity of men.  They can't just
shut up, they always have to gloat.
     “I-I’m…” I stammered, but I was out of breath, hot, my
skin was alive with electric tingles shooting all over me,
and I looked at just about the most uninteresting man to
have crossed my path in weeks and felt almost unbearable
shame that he’d gotten me so hot and bothered with so little
effort.  The worst was that I simply couldn’t figure out how
to hide it from him.  The only thing I knew was that this
was NOT how I wanted to lose my virginity, to some one-night
stand with a jock college student whose little brother was
supposed to be begging me to get a hand up my shirt in the
back of a car.
     He was still smiling.  He seemed really sincere, really
genuinely moved by my reaction, and honestly he was really
handsome.  He might literally have been twice my size, but
his evident interest in me, the girl who’d been rejected by
just about every sect of the student body, drew an
unmistakable appeal from me.
     He stepped closer, putting his hands on my waist, again
above the skirt, so he’d touch as much of me as possible
through the thin netting of the dress.  “There’s no reason
to fight it, Ariel.  This is a natural reaction.”
     But I was resolved, “No.  I’m going out with your
brother tonight.”  Why I had to throw down that paltry
excuse, as if my own wishes in the matter weren’t good
enough, I don’t know, but he backed off.
     
     The ride seemed to have lasted forever.  I couldn’t
wait to get as far away as possible from Wade.  I don’t know
how much of me he had seen, but he’d certainly caught me in
the most vulnerable position I’d been in since grade school
(when I walked into the boy’s bathroom by mistake) and
gotten me both more nervous and insecure, as well as more
hot and bothered than I’d ever been in my life.  He’d drawn
a kind of compulsion out of me that I hadn’t acknowledged
since starting to high school and discovered no one wanted
anything to do with me until I’d found my band of freaks at
the club.  I was reminded that I was attracted to men
regardless of their clothes or tastes.
     I wanted their attention, and I wanted to be noticed,
and Wade had given me that, plus he was pretty damn good
looking to boot in spite of his predilection towards
squaredom.  If only he were a little more interesting, or
had some depth beyond trying to score.  Maybe if he’d had a
little more sensitivity and understood that by implying that
my value was in my normal quotient he was making me feel an
inch tall.  My identity was wrapped up in my lack of
normality.  When you strike my interest but tell me I'm
worthless it reminds me that my only value are my cunt and
my boobs.  Maybe it's true, but maybe I prefer the lie, that
there's something particular about me that you like.  At the
clubs, freaks tend to stick together.  Partly because
they're rejected by everyone else, but more importantly,
because we like the choices each other makes.  We were
rejected for the same reason we like each other.  Because we
made the choice not to let the corporate-high-school-media-
borg decide how we were going to dress, socialize, and
entertain ourselves.  Once you've been rejected by the
masses discovering that your still sexually compatible with
the guys that pinch your butt in the halls and call you
names in a bitter pill to swallow.
     Anyway, we wound up in the parking lot, I don't even
remember driving in.  A lot of people were walking across.
A big line of cars where parents were letting their kids out
stretched across the front of the school, but Wade drove on
by and pulled into a spot at the far end of the lot, where
the cars hadn’t filled up yet.
     He turned off the ignition and turned to me, “Well
we’re here.”
     I had a really hard time looking at him, “Yeah, well,
thanks.”  I reached for the door handle, but he put a hand
on my shoulder.  Again, skin to skin contact.  Like no time
had passed the tingle was alive, pulsing, throbbing inside
me, riveting me to my seat.
     “You know, I know a couple of bars I can get us into.”
     Still not looking I muttered, “I can’t, Wade.”
     But he was caressing my neck now, and with an
involuntary movement I had just leaned back, rolled my head
to the side so he could dig his fingers into the short,
choppy hair at the base of my skull.  The sensation was
electrifying.
     “I’ll tell Alan I couldn’t find your house.  Or I got
pulled over.  I can get you back here before it’s over.”
     The car had separate front seats, but Wade scooted over
so he was seated in the middle, straddling the gearshift,
but bringing his body close to mine.  I retreated, leaning
against the door.
     “Wade, I…”
     “It’s okay, Ariel.  We’ll take it slow.  We don’t have
to do anything you don’t want.”
     But what I wanted more than anything right then was to
lay back and let him play with me, right there in the car,
to run his fingers over every inch of me.  I knew, deep in
the rational part of my brain that he was just using me.
That he didn’t care that I was a virgin, or that I hadn’t
even ever kissed a boy.  He wanted to get me naked and have
sex with me.  He was a college student.  He didn’t have to
settle for hours of groping, like guys in high school do
because of girls like me.
     And while this was all going through my head my body
kept crying out how good it felt as his hands ran over me,
touching every inch of bare skin on my back and shoulders,
his other hand gently stroking the muscles on my tummy, a
rogue finger probing beneath the wrap, sending pulsing
convulsions from his finger down to my inner reaches and I
was gasping again, panting, squeaking (I couldn’t help it)
with growing passion.
     But deep inside I found resistance, he was pulling me,
turning my head to face him.  I put up a hand and pushed
against him, a cold shock, nearly overcome by the touch of
his chest against my hand, a soft yet firm, well muscled
pectoral through a thin T-shirt.  He smelled musky, his
scent was everywhere, his eyes were so large and so bright,
his face so close.
     “Wade, I can’t.  Not like this.  Not with you.”
     He didn’t seem phased in the slightest, “But you want
to, I can tell.”
     He tried to move in closer, but I held my hand steady
and pulled back a bit, “I know, Wade.  I do want to.  I
really do.”
     He pushed past my hand, his face coming right up
against mine, “Then why fight it?”
     But I turned my head, and he stopped before kissing a
mouthful of hair.  “Please, just listen to me.”
     Looking up I saw the first sign of frustration in his
eyes, but he backed off.
     Looking at him it tore me apart to be so cruel to him.
Though my rational mind balked at the idea, my emotions were
flooded with inner betrayal and shame for so cruelly
rejecting him.  My heart saw a towering specimen of manhood,
an avenue for all my dreams and passions, but the cold,
intelligent part of my head told me I’d regret giving in
this way.  I had no desires to become a slave to my
passions, and giving in to someone so utterly wrong for me
would be in every way a mistake.
     “Wade, I love it when you touch me.  I want to let you
go further, but this isn’t how I wanted it to be.”
     He shrugged a shoulder, “It doesn’t always happen like
you expect it.”
     I shook my head, “Wade, I’m a virgin.  I want my first
time to be with someone I love.”
     I had turned to face him completely, and one leg was
bent up on the seat.  He reached down and caressed the bare
skin above my boot.  A move I wished he hadn’t made, but one
that I made no attempt to stop.
     “But if you want to do it now, why deny yourself?” his
hand crept up into the pit of my knee, a thumb ranging far
up my thigh, further than any man had ever touched me.  “Are
you afraid to try it?”
     A head of steam seemed to burst out in a relieved
laugh, though I don’t know exactly why, “Terrified!”  Wade
laughed with me,
     “I won’t hurt you.” He leaned in again to try to kiss
me again, but I stopped him,
     “Yes, Wade.  You will.” Our eyes met, linking up for a
long lingering moment.  We seemed to take the measure of one
another, and he seemed to be acknowledging that I knew
exactly what I meant.  That I would fall for him, or at the
very least regret forever having given in to him, and he
would move on, having had me and gone to be with someone his
own age, someone not still bound by curfews or parents.
     “I-I’m sorry, Ariel.” He looked away.  He was so stung
by my words, and though we both knew they were the truth it
tore me apart to have driven that truth home to him, that we
were both animals right now, slaves to our passions with no
regard for reason or practicality.  But he was retreating,
his hand coming off my knee, and I reached out, taking his
free hand and pulling it close, holding it to my chest.
     “Wade I want to be with you so much right now.  If I
could just lay here and have you touch me like this forever
I’d…”
     He was looking at his hand, and so did I, nestled
between my breasts.  I was at a loss for words.  Had I done
that?
     Finally I found something to say, “I’m sorry-“
     He put a finger to my lips and shushed me, laying his
hands on my shoulders and turning me, pulling me close to
him, settling my head on his chest, and I lay back feeling
the embrace of his firm limber frame.  It was heavenly, the
way he held me.  How safe it felt.  How much he seemed to
give.  His hands found my shoulders again, and I found
myself curling like a cat under his caress.
     “It’s okay,” he said, “We don’t have to do anything you
don’t want to do.”
     I felt something deep inside me calling out that I was
on thin ice here, but I just didn’t care any more.  Wade’s
hands sent shivers through my body, and I found myself
nestling closer and closer to him, almost writhing as his
hands explored more and more of my body, plumbing past the
wide cut collar, into the top of the dress with tentative
fingers.  I didn’t stop them, instead found myself arching
my back, bringing my chest up towards Wade's fingers.  I
felt a hand on my leg, pressing into my groin and as I
prepared o protest I found it was mine.  I was crossing and
uncrossing my legs, suddenly resenting the awful skirt that
didn’t allow me more pressure.
     Instead I pulled Wade’s hand.  I guided him down to my
chest, but got caught in the tight hem of the dress, and he
pulled away, trying to navigate the suit of armor I'd donned
for the dance tonight.  Frustrated I pushed his hands off,
sat up for a second and with only the briefest hesitation
pushed the shirt and dress down over one shoulder, then the
next and exposed myself, willingly for the first time ever,
to a man.  I felt my skin tighten.  My breasts felt like
they were shrinking, but a loud, steady pulse thrummed in my
nipples which seemed enormous the way they puffed out.  My
heart was churning terribly.
I froze.  Uncertain and afraid I’d gone too far.  Afraid of
what Wade might make of that move.  Did he think I'm a slut?
A sad desperate whore?  Did my girl tits look too  little?
What would a man who could have a grown women want with a
skinny nerd girl like me?
    But his warm hands embraced me and cradled me even
tighter.  One of Wade’s hovering hands caressed my chest.
Just a touch, but a loud groan came flying from my lips,
followed by frantic panting as he enveloped my breasts with
his large, strong hands.  I abandoned any pretense of self-
control and gasped aloud, my chirping squeal breaking
through the cabin of the car with loud, brief retorts.  Wade
pulled the dress down, freeing my arms and I helped him
along by pushing it down to my hips.  I thrust a hand under
the layers of fabric and found myself incredibly hot,
smoldering with liquid fire that enveloped my fingers.  I
probed myself with wild, unchecked abandon.
     Wade was stroking and kneading my breasts, crafting
wave upon wave of arousal that took control from my body.  I
didn’t hesitate or stop when I felt him, a firm lump humping
my back through his jeans. Instead I ground against it,
knowing from far away that I was in trouble now, that I had
gone too far to expect him to stop, but the surface of me,
the part blazing with mad passion just didn’t care.  I’d do
anything to keep the sensations enveloping me.  Anything at
all.
     He moved his hand, and I moaned in protest, pulling a
hand out of my skirt and trying to put him back to work, but
he resisted me.  I smelled the scent of myself, my juices
spread on his hands by mine as he turned me slightly.  I
looked up at him, towering over me as I lay in his lap.  He
regarded me there, bare to the waist.  No…  Further.  I had
pushed the dress further down.  My hands fell to my lap
guarding the last semblance of modesty I might possess.  But
even that was an absurd lie, as those hands grew busy again
methodically stroking myself to my first accompanied orgasm.
I felt ashamed.  I felt like a little girl, but I wouldn't
stop my hands.  Being this open and exposed to a man made me
feel like I was a pathetic, worthless, poseur, but I
wouldn't stop. Those feelings seemed to drive any illusion
of pride or vanity aside.  I had surrendered.
     Wade looked into my eyes, and stooped down for a kiss.
My first kiss, and undoubtedly the move that would devastate
any resistance I might have left, leaving me helpless before
his desires.  I swallowed hard and prepared to let it
happen, the slightest flick of my tongue moistening my lower
lip…
     But a blinding light took us both by surprise.  There
was no loud engine sound, no flash past the car, but a
spotlight, shining in, forcing a scream out of me as I
recoiled, simultaneously trying to turn around and cover my
nudity from the prowler while hiking up my dress.  I
couldn’t do both, but Wade’s arms protectively wrapped
around me, enveloping me in strong, secure heat, his
strength a buffer against the renewal of the shocking
humiliation I’d known only an hour before when I was outside
with Wade on my front lawn.
     The flashlight was utterly unabashed, and I cringed as
I watched it prowl over my bare skin, trying to pierce
Wade’s protective hands to see my budding, flushing breasts,
scaling down to where my jet black pubic bush pushed out of
the bundle of skirting around my hips, which I quickly
covered with a glistening hand.  I tried to turn over, but
the flashlight moved to show me that my ass was sticking out
and the g-string dangling from my crack like a pink arrow
crying out: insert blunt object here.
     This was the first worst moment of my life, caught half-
naked about to give my body to a man I hardly knew at all,
completely lost in ecstasy, my body shuddering with the
threat of an impending orgasm while reality threatened me
with merciless exposure.
     The door was pulled open, and icy air bombarded me with
a kind of devastating shame that shared to space with
pleasure.  The skin shrunk on my body, and were it not for
the frantic pounding of the blood in my veins, the flashes
of heat coursing through my body and colliding at my sex, I
thought I’d die right there.  Simply expire.
     “Come on, kids, you know you can’t do this here.”
     Wade was holding a hand up to keep the light from his
eyes.  “Hey, come on, man, let her get dressed.”
     There was a pause, and the voice said, “Wade?  That
you?”
     Wade seemed to recognize him, “Tommy?”
     “Uh-huh.”  The flashlight flew around again, focusing
on my face, then went back to scrutinizing my ass, “Wade,
you know how much trouble you could get into for diddling a
minor?”
     “Tommy, the flashlight.”
     Another pause, then the light clicked off
     Tommy was a night security guard at the school.  Most
of us knew him because he came on when detention was letting
out.  He was an overweight, but strong looking college
senior who probably met Wade when he started working, maybe
when Wade was a high school senior.  Tommy wasn’t much older
than Wade, maybe a year or two, and being half-naked between
the two of them was particularly disconcerting.  Still,
their familiarity made my situation only horribly
traumatizing, rather than mortal.
     “Shit, Wade.  This is the kind of shit I’m supposed to
call the police about.”
     Wade responded by taking his hands off me and pulling
away, to my horror.  Only the lack of light kept me from
screaming out in terror as I gasped and curled up in a naked
ball around my clustered clothing.  I was too terrified to
open up to pull the dress up.  Not that my shivering hands
would have allowed me any kind of control.  Beyond Tommy I
saw people walking from the parked cars to the gym.  We were
easily in full view of them, just a few yards away.  Only
Tommy blocked me from being completely exposed to them.
     Wade scooted back into the driver’s seat, “Come on
Tommy, you know how it is.”
     The flashlight popped back on, enveloping me in cold,
white light, “Yeah, but shit Wade, what is she, thirteen?”
My dress was creeping down my thigh.  I was naked for the
pair of them and they didn't care.  I was too terrified to
move or speak.  All I could do was silently will Wade to
rescue me and try to shrink up into an invisible ball.
     Wade was indignant, “She’s seventeen.  She’ll be
eighteen next month.”
     Tommy didn’t seem to believe it, watching me shiver
there alone as the flashlight molested my bare skin as
thoroughly as Wade had enveloped me, “Seventeen?”
     “Look man,” Wade said, “I was just driving her here.
She’s my brother’s date, and you know we just got to fooling
around.”
     I scowled at Wade suddenly.  That wasn’t how it
happened, was it?
     “Well, look Wade,” Tommy said, “You’re not even
supposed to be on campus.”
     Wade nodded, “I’ll split.”
     Tommy waved the flashlight over me again, “What about
her?”
     “I’m getting out.” I insisted, “Turn that thing off.”
My umbrage at Wade's callous description of me had rattled
me enough to forget my present trauma.
     Wade started up the engine, “See ya later.”
     I looked up at the man, my heart fluttering badly, but
he didn’t look the same any more.  The illusion of the
moment had fled, and Wade was the same dull Joe who’d
knocked on my door an hour ago.  He didn’t even seem
remotely interested in me as he pulled on his seatbelt.
“I’ll be by to get you guys at ten o’clock, okay?”
     I nodded, wondering when I’d be able to get my clothes
on.
     The flashlight was still hovering over me, “Wade…”
     “We cool, Tommy?”
     The light clicked off, “Yeah.  Come on, missy.  I’ll
walk you in.”
     “Can I get dressed first?” I snarled through gritted
teeth, afraid to turn around or even look away from Wade.
He wouldn’t even look at me.
     Wade did glance down though, “Come on, Ariel.  I need
to split.”
     “I just want to pull up my dress, Wade.”
     “I don’t have time, no one can see you, just do it.”
     Arms firmly clamped over my chest I sat up, “Come on.”
Tommy’s hand was tugging on my arm.
     “Wait.” I cried, but I was hauled, topless out the car
door, my dress bunched low on my hips, exposing me to the
wild night air, and especially to Tommy, who didn’t seem to
reluctant to show his regard for my condition in the cool
moonlight.
     Wade threw my purse on the ground at my feet, “Sorry,
Ariel.  I’ll make it up to you.” And he leaned over and
slammed the passenger door, muffling the loud “Fuck you!” I
screamed as he backed his car out of the spot and my dress
fell past my hips, giving Tommy the eyeful no boy had ever
gotten, Ariel, in the flesh, completely nude.
     As fast as I could I hiked up the dress, and did a
pretty good job of getting my sleeves into the bundle of
clothes in under a minute while blood pounded in my temples
and threatened to make my head explode – I could barely
contain my rage and shame.
     “Ariel?  It’s Ariel, right?”
     “What the fuck do you want?” I harped as I covered my
breasts from Tommy’s gaze.
     “Look, I’m sorry.  If anyone else had found you guys
Wade’d be in jail right now facing two to five for statutory
rape and you’d be explaining to your parents what you were
up to when you should have been at the dance.”
     I looked at him, pulling the straps of the shirt up,
and straightening out my dress.  “Not to mention the guy who
I’m supposed to be meeting here.”
     Tommy smiled, “Hey, you don’t have to worry about me.
I was in high school too, I remember how hard it was to get
alone time.”
     I looked his paunchy, pudgy frame over.  I wondered
regarding his flat nose and beady eyes, what girl he’d ever
gotten to be alone with at all.
     “That wasn’t supposed to happen.”  I started striding
off in the direction of the gym.
     “Uh-huh,” Tommy said, “And I suppose your dress just
sort of fell off?”
     I spun around, “He…  He… Wade was…”  But I simply
couldn’t put together a retort.
     Tommy grinned at me, knowingly, it seemed…
     But then he had seen me, watched how completely I had
surrendered to the passions that overwhelmed me.  He had
seen my capitulation.  We both knew that I was about to give
myself to Wade, body and soul.
     And though I breathed with relief at the narrow escape
I’d made as I turned from the overweight security guard and
started towards the gym, I felt incomprehensible
frustration.  I had been saved by chance from abandoning my
chastity, my virginity, and my dignity to a self-important
college jock who probably didn’t think much more of me than
a conquest to kill time with.  I just couldn’t help
regretting not knowing how things would have played out.
Wondering how it would have felt to give in in such a way
that I’d denied myself ever since puberty.
     I felt the raging hormones coursing through me, and
only had to cross my fingers and hope that Alan didn’t share
his older brother’s predilection for sexual aggression,
because I was horny as Hell.  Though I didn’t really care
for Wade as a person, I knew that after tonight I’d shoot
myself before I settled for his unattractive, dorky little
brother.
     That thought chafed.  That I was so much more attracted
to a one-track jock like Wade than his thoughtful, sensitive
and intelligent brother, six years his minor.
     I brushed off that thought, and stomped on down the
hill where a growing line of students were waiting to get
into the dance.