Punk Rock Girl - The School Dance – Ch-3&4
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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     Ch-3
     
     That first step into the gym was a horrifying
experience.  In any normal day the gym was a pretty ugly
place for a girl to find herself.  Stale sweat, shouting
boys, giggling girls clustered in their groups like white
blood cells goggled up behind a zit attacking bacteria
(which usually turned out to be me).  In assemblies there
would be a thousand of us packed in here, people shouting,
fucking with each other, jocks and razor-bitches stamping
through like they owned the place.  Teachers looking for
trouble seemed to always hone in on me, though I never did
anything (well, not often) just because I was the freakiest.
     Tonight it was infinitely worse.  The lights were dim
and strobing reds, blues, and greens flew around the space
The ugly mass of kids were gathered in a half-ring around
the court to my left.  In the middle of them the DJ was set
up in front of the girl’s locker room in the middle of the
wall.  There was a table with those big McDonald’s punch
servers on it blocking the entrance to the boy’s locker
room.  Between the throng and the DJ were a bunch of really
shitty dancers.  There were a few dozen people, maybe a
hundred packed in there.  A pathetic mass of teenage
hormones trying to mate.  I’d already found my mates, seven
goblin-headed boys, most of whom thought I was a bandy
legged scarecrow, but would fuck me anyway, because they
were boys, and because I was ready for them, ready, willing-
-desperate, in fact.  I was actually dying to have them take
me, to overwhelm me, to get the damned thing over with so I
could go home and kill myself in peace.
     All around big, fake palm trees had been stood up by
some ass-licking committee of idiot girls and their pussy-
whipped boyfriends.  Tropical was the theme, apparently,
which explained the two girls I’d seen in hula skirts
outside.  Tables were scattered to the right end of the gym.
They were mostly empty, the student body preferring to dance
or watch the dancer and wish they were dancing, scoping out
their lusts of choice.  This meant, fortunately, that my
utter humiliation, was hidden; forestalled for the moment
because no one appeared to have noticed our appearance.
     Mrs. Dee and Jefferson were dragging a pair of guys,
two black students I recognized as new transfers, straight
at us.  I just stared, delirious and numb.  Bill and Ronnie
were frantic, and tried to pull me in two directions at
once.  Jerry rescued them, calling out from behind a cluster
of the trees to the right of the doors, not far from the
bathrooms.  I was dragged by my loving guardians where we
hunkered down behind the trees until Mrs. Dee and the others
made it out the door.
     My only hope was that they would distract her  Mrs. Dee
would forget the last girl she had cited for violating the
dress code.  It was a stupid hope. She knew me, and she had
stripped me bare.  She'd seen everything.
     Still, I was about to get gang banged.  Any little
bright light...
     The boy’s breathed relief when the doors slammed shut.
So did I, though I had no reason to, in the clutches of this
mass of testosterone.  Five jocks were there.  Five JV
jerseys and five gloating, imbecilic faces.
     “What is she doing here.” One cluster of muscle asked.
     “She lost the bet,” Jerry opined, pulling a bottle out
of his jacket and unscrewing it.  It looked like one of
those flavored Jack Daniel’s drinks.  “She owes us.”
     I bit back a protest.  I was in no position to argue
with them.
One of Jerry’s friends glared at me with contempt.   I
squatted on the floor next to Ronnie, half dressed but for a
shirt, the cluster of my dress, and my knee high boots which
exaggerated the knobby knees and skinny thighs that stuck
out the top.  “I ain’t fucking that.”  He uncapped a mini
bottle of Red Rum and swigged at it.  “She can suck my dick
if she takes that stupid thing out of her mouth.”
     “Fuck you!” I cried, and struggled to get up, but
Ronnie and Bill held me down.
     “In your dreams,” Red Rum taunted me, looking at Bill,
“She’s got to have like syphilis or something.”
     Jerry jabbed his friend in the ribs, “She says she’s a
virgin.”
     The lot of them broke out laughing.  Another guy took
the bottle from Jerry and said, “That whore.  She’s like the
geek slut of the school.”  They laughed some more, and Bill
leaned across me to Ronnie.
     “Where we gonna do this?”
     I knew he was talking about taking me.
     Ronnie looked around, “Side door doesn’t look too
busy.”
     Both Bill and I regarded the emergency exit at the far
end of the gym.  We all knew it wasn’t locked, and that the
big alarm warning signs didn’t work.  We’d all used them to
sneak out of gym class.
     “Give me a drink.” Bill told Jerry, who handed him the
jack.  Bill offered a swig to me, but Jerry protested,
     “Don’t let her fucking drink from that.  She’ll get
herpes all over it.”
     Four boys laughed, though Bill just took a swig.
     Ronnie pulled a mini bottle out of a pocket and gave it
to me.  I saw him holding my purse, but it seemed a petty
thing to ask for it back, so I looked at the little bottle
of vodka.  ‘Stolichnaya’ it read.
     “Hey Jerry, check it out.”  Ronnie handed a Polaroid of
me up to his friend.  I saw it was the snap of me facing the
camera, and I tried to snag it, but Jerry pushed my hand
away as if I were in slow motion and took it while Ronnie
held me back.
     “Drink” Ronnie whispered.
     “That’s pathetic!” Jerry opined, sharing the snap with
his friends.
     Red Rum disagreed, “Her tits ain’t bad.”
     “Dude!”  Jerry wasn’t put off his course, “Nice tits
ain’t gonna make up for that face.”
     I steamed in my own vapors, enraged, humiliated,
ashamed.  I wasn’t surprised to realize how rapidly my
arousal had faded in the wake of the insults.  The hovering
aura that had so overwhelmed me was gone, and I was left
alone, still hot, still horny, but by no means reacting to
every little touch, and in no way was I relishing the
thought of surrendering willingly to this mass of men.
     I looked at the bottle in my hands and uncapped it.  I
had never taken a drink before, but I tipped it back and
poured the whole thing in my mouth, gulping it down.
     Suddenly I was hacking and coughing. With so much force
that Ronnie and Bill jumped aside, and I fell forward onto
my hands and knees, violent spasms shaking my head, wracking
my sides.  I thought I was going to die.  I couldn’t believe
that people drank that shit for fun.
     As my hacking faded I heard the laughter shining
through.  I realized that I was on my knees, my dress lay in
a pile under me, my bare ass sticking up as I struggled for
control.
     “You are not going to fuck that!” he laughed, “No, I
can’t let you do that.  I wouldn’t be a friend if I did.”
     They were all breaking up into hysterical laughter.
     “Seriously,” Jerry went on, “I’ll spring for a ten
dollar hooker.  I want to be able to look at myself in the
morning.”
     If my head hadn’t been spinning so hard with the
alcohol I would have jumped up and killed him, right there.
No one would have asked any questions, a girl alone, almost
naked in a crowded room surrounded by jocks.  They’d have to
believe my story and only give me a few years for
manslaughter.  That would be worth it to put an end to this.
     But between my latent arousal, my fear, and the
abruptness with which the alcohol had worked on me, I was
unable to do anything but lean back on my haunches and take
what they were dishing out.  My head was swimming badly.
     “Hey, slut.” Red Rum called.  When I didn’t respond he
kicked my foot, and I jumped, “Yo, punk bitch, let’s see
those tits.”
     I looked around me.  Bill and Ronnie leaned against the
palm trees, Jerry and the other two clustered between Bill
and the wall, and the only way out was right onto the dance
floor.  I looked from face to face, and aside from the
peculiar look on Bill’s face I saw nothing like mercy.
     Suddenly I was desperate for something to numb the
crushing humiliation that was overwhelming me, “Give me
another drink.”
     Bill started to hand me his bottle, but Red Rum put his
foot on my shoulder as I leaned for it and shoved me back,
“Show us, and you can have a drink.”
     I swallowed hard.  He was making me a whore, exposing
myself for favors, but that barely hit me compared to the
accumulated indignities I was suffering.  I took a moment to
turn around to face him, taking the opportunity to pull the
G-string out of my ass and liberate my labia from exposure
to the elements and from rubbing raw against the heels of my
boots.
     Why didn't I just start screaming?  Just scream.  It
would end, right there.
     I tried to look up at him, but couldn’t, veering my
eyes to the wall, and slamming them shut.
     There was a moment of silence.
     “Now that is a nice rack.” I heard Red Rum say.
     Jerry was on top of that, “Yeah, but that doesn’t make
up for that bony ass.  What, you gonna fuck her tits?”
     “Naw, they’re too far apart.”
     “I like those nipples.”  Someone said.
     I felt a cold hand grapple my right boob and shuddered
as the electricity began to surge once again through me.  I
opened my eyes and saw Red Rum on one knee in front of me,
his rough, clumsy fingers pawing at me, but my adrenaline
was so high and my hormones so overcharged that it was like
he’d tapped a massive floodgate and waves of ecstasy
straddled me as he pawed at my rigid nipple, nearly my whole
breast fitting neatly into his large hand.
     “Dude,” he said to his friends, but locking eyes with
me, “What a fucking slut.”
     I slammed the shirt down, backing away, “Where’s my
drink?” I demanded.
     More laughter, and Jerry taunted me with a little white
bottle.  “This what you want?”
     My head was swimming with the booze, and my body aglow
with arousal, but not nearly enough, “Give it to me.”
     “You gotta beg, slut.” He held it out and I made a wild
lunge for it, but he held it back and I was back on my hands
and knees.
     “That’s it, now beg.”
     I looked at his feet, “I already showed you my tits.”
     I heard Jerry say, “That was for Bones.  Now you gotta
do something for me.”
     “Just give it to her,” there was Bill again, sticking
up for me.
     “Aw, come on, Bill, you actually like this slut?”
     “Fuck her if you want to, but don’t fucking humiliate
her.”
     I scowled at Bill, “I don’t want your fucking pity if
you’re just gonna sit there!”
     But the bottle clattered between my hands, and I
scrambled for it, clumsily unscrewing the top and chugging
it down.  Make it go away.  Make them go away I pleaded with
the little bottle.  It was much smoother than the vodka, and
I didn’t sputter at all.
     “How can you humiliate a slut who has no shame?” Jerry
was asking his friend.  “She’s a whore.  She’ll fuck
anything that moves.”
     Red Rum, who they called Bones disagreed, “No, a
goth’ll fuck anything that moves, a punk’ll just fuck
anything.”
     I glowered at him through their laughter, the bottle
still in between my lips.  “You’re an asshole.”
     “Here” he said, reaching into his pocket and squatting
down in front of me, “I’ll make it up to you.” He pulled out
a pack of Camels and reached out for me.
     I was frozen, what was he going to do next.  Half of me
cried out to retreat, to run as fast as possible.  The other
half, the half that controlled my body waited, eagerly
anticipating the sensations that would accompany his touch.
     My eyes closed as I felt a finger touch my crotch.  Oh
my god!  This was it.  I was going to go over the edge. I
just knew it.  He was going to touch me and I would lose all
control.  Stabbing pains shot into my gut, my belly afire,
my loins about to explode, I felt him stick a finger under
the triangle, I was shuddering violently, “Oh god, please.”
I heard myself cry as he pulled the cloth forward, exposing
me, and the string tugged through the cleft of my ass.  I
spread my legs and leaned back, preparing for the inevitable
as I panted, gasping and squealing with convulsions as if
he’d already started to ravage me.
     But something hard jammed against my pubic bush, sharp
corners poking into me, and the G-string snapped back into
place.
     “What a fucking whore!” I heard Jerry cry out, and they
laughed more as I looked down and realized that Bones had
shoved the Camels into the G-string.  I was leaning back, my
hands stretched behind me, my legs bent at the knee but
splayed wide.  What had happened to me, I didn’t know?  I
had just completely surrendered, ready for a bit of contact,
ready to get it started, but he had just used my
acquiescence as another excuse to humiliate me.
     I wasn’t sure whether to be astonished by the sheer
stupidity of boys, or if I should take the sleight as an
indication of my status among these boys in particular, but
I didn’t have to ponder that question for long, fortunately.
     “Come on,” Ronnie was saying, grabbing up my discarded
dress.  I’d have to follow him now, or else streak across
the gym.  “Let’s do this.” And he peered around the paper
mache trees to the side door.  The other boys followed his
gaze, and I realized with deadly revelation that the games
were over.  They were now going to take me outside and down
to the creek.  Once there, I would do anything they wanted.
I’d probably beg for it too, just like Ronnie had predicted,
considering the way I was behaving.  He scooted over to get
a better look at the door, my clothes gathered loosely in
his lap as he crouched, my purse discarded on the floor.
     Bill looked back at me, his friends occupied with the
door.
     “Coast looks clear,” Jerry said, eager to get started
like his friend in spite of his overtures of disgust at me.
     Ronnie held him back, “Wait.  Bones, get Nick, and
Steve.  We’ll meet you at the creek.”
     No longer an impulsive foray, Ronnie had been coldly
calculating how to go about this while his friends mocked
me, “Jerry, you and Mickey take her, I’ll cover you while
Bill goes for the door.”
     My eyes were fixed on Bill’s.  He just watched me and
gave a simple shake of the head.  All the fear and terror
welled up inside me, crushing my raging hormones under the
weight of total desperation.  No matter how aroused I might
be now, seven guys would tear me apart.  If I lived to see
the end of the night I’d be a ruined mass of bones and
flesh, unable to lift my head in school ever again.
     The willpower that had abandoned me for so much of the
night reasserted itself, and the crushing shame was driven
back by the need to survive, to get away, to save myself, my
virginity, and what was left of my sanity.
     I looked at my dress on Ronnie’s lap, my belts dangled
out an arms reach away from me.  They were fixated on the
door I couldn’t see, waiting for something.
     I didn’t wait any longer.
     Grabbing the belts I scooped up my purse and took off,
I felt Ronnie seize up on the dress but it came free as I
sprinted into the open, “Grab her!” I heard an enraged
shout.  I couldn’t tell who it was.  I bolted across the
wide open space past the entrance, scrambling across the
hardwood floor, making for the cove of fake trees on the far
side.  I dove into place, skidding and slamming up against
them, wadding up in a ball afraid someone might see, or that
the fake palms would come crashing down to reveal me to the
assembly.  I huddled there for a long minute, afraid of
pursuit, waiting for hands to come bearing down on me to
drag me to my destiny.  I’d go kicking and screaming if they
tried that.  As horny as I was I knew I couldn’t let them
get outside with me.  I knew I had to flee but I was too
terrified to move again.  I was surrounded by so many
people, so scantily clad.  Paralysis gripped me, and all I
could do was try not to shiver too much for fear that my
rattling bones would give me away.
     Finally I managed to poke my head out.  Four faces
peered out from the faux fronds.  They were yards and yards
away.  I had dashed, bare ass and all twenty or thirty feet
to freedom and not been seen.  Now they guys were too scared
to come after me.  Maybe they figured out that I wasn't
their patsy any more.  Maybe they'd seen some fight and were
now scared.
     Then again it seemed that Mrs. Dee had just let in
another batch of students.  Five girls complaining a lot
stood by the doorway.  Whether cowardice or providence, I
had a chance to escape.
     Not far from me, in the opposite direction along the
wall, was a stack of speakers.  Normally such a secluded
spot would attract a young horny couple, but it was vacant
(no doubt due to the policy of not allowing thongs into the
dance).  I scooted along the wall, behind the line of would-
be dancers, holding my dress up and counting on haste,
rather than modesty to hide me from a casual glance.  The
sense of freedom from the jocks, I will admit gave the act
of streaking a subtle thrill as the wind blew through my
legs, in spite of the risk.  I'd spent countless hours
running around this room in uniform.  The realization that I
was doing it in my sluttiest panties and half a shirt on
made me tingle all over.  As I sneaked into the speaker
stack and vibrations overcame me I felt aghast that I was
actually tempted to try it again.  Hell, I was even
considering taking my shirt off.  Was the sexual thrill
worth the distraction it might give me? I thought.  I must
be seriously fucked up if I'm fantasizing about making it
worse.
     I started to straighten out the bundle in my hands, but
was horrified to discover that aside from the pink wrap and
my belts, the dress was gone, probably still in Ronnie’s
clutches.
     It was enough to cover my ass with, at any rate.  I
shook it out, letting the belts fall to the floor and
wrapped it around me like a towel, forging sort of a
straight, knee-length skirt.  It was just long enough when
it wasn’t bunched up, to cover my backside and lay twice
over the front, which meant I could walk freely without
flashing anyone.  I tucked it in, and picked up the belts,
strapping them into place tightly as the skirt was no longer
bunched enough to hold them up, but I had long ago punched
new holes in them to fit my emaciated girth.
     I felt the sweat cooling on my body, the cool breeze
blowing right through the armholes and setting goose pimples
on my boobs, reminding me I was still very exposed up top.
I could live with that providing no one looked too closely
(which meant avoiding the male sex entirely, so I'd have to
count on luck that no teachers would see me).  My ass was
covered, and that’s what mattered.  Anyone glancing at me
would see a girl in a normal skirt and a tank top.  One
who’s tits jiggled dramatically, granted, and whose nipples
protruded violently through the fabric off which the shirt
seemed to hang, but that wasn’t as bad as being nearly nude
below the ribs.
     More comfortable now I noticed the cigarettes that
Bones had lodged in my G-string.  I had completely forgotten
them.  I was shocked to discover how just the act of
removing them sent shivers over my body.  I was still
terribly horny, in spite of the humiliation and shame (or
utterly traumatized because of it).  I glanced in the pack
and saw it was half full, a lighter tucked unto the empty
space.
     Well, I figured, now was a probably a good time to take
up smoking.
     
     CH-4
     
     I found my purse halfway between my hiding places.
With the loud music and the perverse thrill of streaking
through the dance half naked I must have dropped it while
running from Ronnie and his crew and not noticed.  I saw
Bones and Jerry lurking in their trees, still.  They looked
nervous and paranoid, and that made me feel empowered.
They'd crossed a line and knew it, and now I was out of
their clutches.  I could fuck them mightily if I could get
anyone to believe me.  Still, I was scared of them, so I
moved out onto the dance floor, shoving the smokes in the
purse.  I was dressed now, and thought I had nothing to fear
as long as I stayed with the crowds except for wandering
eyeballs with predilections towards exposed boobage.  I'd
just scream my head off if one of them tried anything.  No
one would believe me, but they'd be watching, and Jerry and
his friends would back off.
     The alcohol buzzed around in my head and I staggered
awkwardly through the crowd at the edge of the dance floor.
I crossed my arm tightly over my chest to minimize jiggle.
Every time I bumped into someone I’d jump, terrified it
would be Ronnie, or one of his friends.
     I had to get out of there, and find a way back home.
It would be cold, but I would be safe.  The problem is that
they had locked the gym down so no one could get out to tell
the students waiting in line about the searches.  I would
have found a teacher, told them I was sick.  But I could
taste the liquor and I was even more scared of facing Mrs.
Dee again, and another strip search.  At any rate there
didn't seem to be any teachers in the gym whatsoever.
     I still had the green slip Mrs. Dee had written out for
me.  I reasoned that if I played hooky for a couple days
she’d think I’d been suspended, but if I were caught again
I’d have to explain how I’d gotten into the gym in the first
place, and I doubted anyone would believe my story, about my
near abduction.  I didn’t have a bruise on my body to show
for it.  Usually a girl has to have a guys cum dripping all
over her in order to prove she's been sexually assaulted.  I
shuddered as I remembered Ronnie's grimy fingers pressing
into me.  How I'd held my legs open and let him do it.
     I shook that thought off quickly.  I considered the
side doors.  They were unattended, if clearly visible from
most of the room but not on the dance floor, where most of
the students were.  I remembered the way Jerry and Ronnie
got serious when they got down to the business of getting me
out of the gym.  They would be watching that entrance, I was
sure; I’d ultimately end up right where they wanted me.
Alone, out in the open with them.  Even with a head start I
had no illusions about being able to outrun seven Junior
Varsity players.  If they caught me I doubted that I would
have the willpower to fight them off, or even offer any
resistance—not that fighting them would stop them from
raping me.  I hated myself, but I guess it was better to be
honest about the state I was in.
I didn’t have many choices.  The DJ was set up in front of
the girl’s locker room, but the drink table was  barely
blocking the boy’s.  They didn’t lock the locker room doors
either.  They were fire exits.
     I saw a few people milling about, getting punch from
the big yellow coolers, mostly nerds like me who weren't
going to dance much, but I still hadn’t seen any teachers.
They were probably too busy enforcing their draconian new
restrictions.  I’d just have to scoot behind the table and
slip away.  Disdained and mocked though I was, no student
was likely going to run to a teacher to rat me out for
sneaking out the boy's locker room.  Not after we'd all been
forced to endure the indignities of being strip searched in
front of their peers.
     I realized with that thought that I was probably the
only girl in the room with a G-string on.  Anyone with a
thong had been detained, probably in the recital hall
alongside the foyer.  I was certainly the only girl without
a bra who actually needed one.  That realization made me
feel particularly trashy as I milled about in the crowd.  I
liked that feeling.
     Pushing that thought aside, and the consequent rush of
exhilaration in spite of the shame it provoked, I tried to
figure out how best to make my way over to the table while
not being seen by the boys.  I could stick to crowds, and
that would mask my movement, but there was a pretty big
space between the dance floor and the locker rooms.  It
would expose me for about twenty feet.  I grew terrified to
go out of the crowd, as unnerving as the press of bodies
were.  The thought that I'd get grabbed kept haunting me, so
I tried to distract myself by feeling naughty again, but
then I'd just feel ashamed.  That made me feel like a slut.
That Ronnie was right.  I remembered his finger up inside
me.  No boy had ever touched me there before.  Not even
Wade.  No matter how lost I got in the crowd I could still
feel Ronnie's stubby fingers pushing against the walls of my
sex.  How much I wanted it.
     The fog in my brain made it nearly impossible to plan
an escape.  I knew I needed to find where the football
players had gone.  I needed to follow their movements so I
could plan how to avoid them, but that was such a daunting
task and my mind just didn’t want to work, just swim in an
alcoholic stupor while my body floated in a hormonal frenzy.
Every bit of my physiology conspired to keep my mind from
working, yet my only hope was to get it out of first gear.
     I wandered the scene again.  Even though there was a
pretty big crowd it would take a lot more than that to fill
a gym made to accommodate a thousand for assemblies.  The
clusters of students were sparse and scattered,.  I had to
assume that the guys could see me, even if I couldn’t find
them immediately.  I wanted nothing more than to find a
corner to skulk off to, but that was the last thing I could
look for.  Instead I focused on staying central and public,
at least until I figured out how to escape.
     Something awful was blaring over the PA system, NSYNC,
or some crap boy band like that.  It made my head want to
explode, but I couldn’t dent the effect it had on my
hypersensitive body, each pounding drumbeat reverberating up
from the floor into my crotch, sending a throbbing ache back
in return, one that kept me on the tips of my toes
(metaphorically speaking, I couldn’t get up on my toes in
these boots), trying to bear the overwhelming sensation
while not getting swallowed up in it like I had when Bones
shoved his cigarettes into my G-string.
     I wanted to kill that little fuck.  I wanted to kill
them all.
     I looked for somewhere to regroup, ideally a place I
could sit down.  In the dark corner behind the DJ booth were
a gaggle of popular kids, seniors, some junior and sophomore
girls, clustered around a couple tables there.  Further down
the wall was a recessed alcove where the sporting equipment
was kept in lockers, but it was stocked with the geek set:
Computer nerds, debate team jocks, generally pathetic dweebs
led by the genius and pathetic Rusty Meyers, freshman
extraordinaire.  I couldn’t believe that he’d actually gone
out of his way to get a suit jacket (one that was too large
for him) but not take off his headgear.  Unfortunately in
the hierarchy of high school these were my peers, which I
guess made Rusty my King.  Fortunately I didn't much
subscribe to high school social norms.  That hadn't stopped
Rusty from making a number of overtures that would make me
his queen.  I couldn't decide which was worse, the lank, zit-
faced Rusty, or the squat troglodyte who'd almost just had
his hand in my...
     I tried not to think about that.
     The back of the gym was clear and was dimly lit.  I
could spy a few couples, making out in the absence of adult
supervision, but that’s where the locked off main entrance
was, and that was where the side doors were.  Going back
there was the most likely place for me to be abducted.
     Then I saw Alan.
     Alan was a sweet sophomore, somewhat gangly like me,
but not really skinny.  He walked with a loping gait and had
this odd predilection towards white.  His idea of walking to
your own drummer was wearing things that were not only out
of fashion, but completely out of context.  He wore stark
white jeans with matching white, leather sneakers (who ever
heard of leather sneakers).  He had on this white checkered
button-down, but the sleeves ended just below the elbows and
didn’t taper or button at all, like a sailors shirt.  He
wore a skinny, 80’s style blue tie, which matched his eyes
though I doubt he noticed that, and let his hair stick out
in whatever wild direction the towel left it in after his
morning shower.
     He wasn’t cute, not with that honker, and his skinny
face.  He really had great eyes, but they seemed odd over
his high cheekbones and long pointy chin.  When he got old
he’d probably look like one of those scary guys who
introduce horror films on late-night TV, but right now he
was just an average guy who didn’t have the looks or gifts
to stand out in school.  At fifteen he was a pale shadow of
his athletic, handsome older brother, and it wasn’t without
a pang of guilt that I remembered what I had given up in the
car.  I didn’t know if this was Alan's first date, or if
he’d ever kissed a girl, but I knew he liked me a lot.  I
wouldn't have believe that I could feel even worse, but tied
up in the failure of my chastity was my failure as a woman
and a person in general.
     I wondered for a moment if I was looking at Wade, at
fifteen, but I knew with no uncertain conviction that Wade
was more likely to have been one of the junior varsity
players trying to rape me than eagerly awaiting my arrival.
Clearly I'd discovered my preference and it wasn't nice
guys.
     I’d been at the dance for half an hour.  I’d spent the
first twenty minutes of it mostly naked, groveling on the
floor half-begging a bunch of jocks to ravish me.  That was
after spending ten minutes trying to give my virginity to
another jock.  I just wasn't worthy of Alan any more, and
that was pathetic.
     
     ‘Hey Alan.’ I said, finally having built up the courage
to confront him.  Having not actually had sex, or kissed
another guy I felt that my indiscretion with his brother
left me just enough latitude to act like nothing had
happened.
     “Ariel, you made it.” He stepped up to me, but
maintained a polite distance, just leaning close enough so
we could shout at each other over the speakers which were
much closer where we stood by the DJ booth, than back at the
foyer entrance, behind the palm trees where every word was
crystal as the boys planned to rape me.
     “Yeah, sorry I took so long.”
     “Sorry I wasn’t there.  Wade didn’t give you any
trouble, did he?”
     I found my heart fluttering madly at the mention of his
name, “No.  He was really nice.”
     “Wade?  You’re kidding, right?”
     I didn’t know what to say, and just shrugged, a gesture
I’d been avoiding doing as without a bra.  My boobs bounced
and jiggled when I did that.  Alan most definitely noticed,
checking me out for the first time, “How did you get past
the search in that outfit?”
     I really didn’t want to talk about that, “You don’t
like it?” I asked like a sappy little girl.
     “No!” he quickly corrected me, “I think you look great!
Wanna dance?”
     The thought of letting Alan guide me out on the floor,
put his arms around my waist and turn me around in circles
made me very apprehensive.  It wasn’t just the ancient Phil
Collins blather that the DJ had just put on to slow things
down for a romantic dance, but my seemingly perpetual state
of arousal was making me apprehensive about any human
contact.  The thought of what might happen moving so slowly
and so closely was almost as bad as popping around like a
bimbo to a fast song in my half top.  There wouldn’t be an
unbruised face on the dance floor.
     But that was why we were there, I reasoned.  If I just
shrugged that off and refused to dance all night he might
wonder if something was up, and he already seemed to doubt
my lie about his brother’s behavior.
I nodded, and cringed as he took my hand, guiding me out to
the middle of the dancing couples.  I had never danced like
this in my life.  In the clubs Daria snuck me in to people
danced alone, strictly by themselves.  You were part of a
collective mass, but your steps, your moves, your motives
were strictly your own.  That part appealed to me more than
anything.
    I had to put my arms around Alan’s shoulders.  I felt
the warm breeze touch my breasts exposed from the sides
again.  Alan couldn't see them, but he took my stiffness for
restraint, and kept a respectful distance though his arms
were around my waist.  There were a good six inches between
our bodies.  Quickly I closed the gap, pushing my chest
against him; a mistake maybe.  I felt a warm flush around my
bosom, but I felt masked from any onlookers.  I held my
hands on his shoulders too, curling my elbows tight to my
body, and rested my head on his chest.  He was a lot taller
than I I’d ever noticed.
     I felt the boy tighten up as I squeezed him, but he
didn’t object.  Why would he?  His hands cradled me further,
his soft, supple fingertips slyly caressing my completely
bare skin.  I didn't know if it was deliberate, but I didn't
mind.  I held him like that for a long time, feeling warm,
and safe in his arms for perhaps the first time since I’d
crawled out of Wade’s car.  I knew I didn’t have anything to
worry about from Alan.  He certainly wouldn’t risk my wrath
to go further than I wanted.  Even when I felt his cock
pressing against me I didn't mind.  I knew he’d only use it
on my terms, regardless of the fact that I was a bitch in
heat.  I wanted to rub up against it, just to see what
happened.  Just to put Alan on the same footing as me.  Then
I felt him shift, as if I hadn't notice.  Perhaps ashamed of
his arousal.  I was ashamed too, but I couldn't help feeling
disappointed.  I was like a sign of weakness, and I needed
him to be strong for me.  Ronnie wouldn't have tried to hide
his cock from me.  Jerry wouldn't have...
     The combination of alcoholic buzzing and psycho sexual
arousal left me floating on a cloud, despite the sappiest
song every written.  I drifted away, lost in the haze of
Alan’s arms.  A silent, drifting, whispering effigy of
myself, where every contact sent me buzzing with tingled,
and a warm, intimate heat enveloped my body, keeping it
elevated, aroused, but not insisting on more.  Not
determined to humiliate me to hide its own shame.
     Maybe Alan wasn’t so bad, I thought, wondering in a
distant place if that was the alcohol talking.  Maybe he
could do where his brother left off.  Maybe he could be the
guy to satisfy the cravings that I’d been introduced to
tonight.  He deserved it, if anybody did.  Maybe he hadn’t
gotten me hot and bothered.  Wade had.  He certainly hadn’t
driven me into the frenzy of mad lust and raging heat I was
in.  Jerry and Ronnie had.  But he was the reason I was
here.  He was the reason I was actually in another man’s
arms, drifting peacefully, comfortably, heavenly.  He was
the one who wanted me for what I was.  If he didn’t deserve
my virginity, no one did.
     That thought sent waves of excitement through my body.
Who cared if there wasn’t a real emotional attachment here?
I mean, I’d been protecting my virginity since puberty based
on the same hollow acknowledgment of feminine behavior that
I rebuffed every single day of my life.  Really, what did it
matter if some fucking football players thought I was a
slut?  Who the Hell cared if I was a slut for that matter?
     The only thing keeping me from giving in was really
some preconceived notion that being a slut was somehow a bad
thing, something a girl should be ashamed of and a guy
should be proud of.  My chest heaved with the thought of
finding a dark, secret place to give myself to Alan, as
tingles escalated from his fingertips, descending over my
ass, inflaming further my loins which had been aching for
some contact.  I found myself pressing closer to Alan,
stretching my arms tight around his neck, his erection
throbbing against my hip.  I rolled my head to one side,
peering up at the nervous, shaking boy.  He had no idea what
he was in store for.  His brother may have gotten me kick
started, but Alan was going to receive the fruits of Wade’s
labors.  All the torment from the football players was going
to pay out by getting this spindly geek in my arms laid, and
I was going to be liberated in the process.
     I found myself getting hotter and hotter.  I ground my
hip against Alan’s member and he rewarded me with a moan,
     “Ariel,” he muttered, his breath hot and sultry on my
neck.
     I turned my head up to look at him.  His eyes were
wide, his lip trembled.  He was clearly terrified that he’d
somehow fuck this up, but I’d drag his ass outside and rape
the shit out of him before that happened.
     But just to put his mind at ease I told him, “Hey Alan,
you wanna go outside and fuck?”
     Man I’d become a fucking whore.  Twenty-four hours ago
I was as chaste a little virgin as Jesus’ sweet dick-free
mom, and here I was throwing myself at a man, actually
desperate to surrender my cherry and to get on with my life.
     “Uhh…  Uhh, I…”  The little schmuck had no idea what to
say.
     “Alan?”
     He closed his mouth and sort of raised his eyebrows,
waiting for what I was going to say next.
     “Just say ‘Yes.’”
     He nodded, a little too eagerly, but I knew he was an
easy score anyway, pretty much like any geek in school would
be.  I slid a hand up behind the cradle of his ear, tilted
my head back and pulled him down for a kiss.
     And he was gone.
     Suddenly, yanked from my grasp, I heard, “We need to
talk to your little girlfriend, Alan.”
     I found myself embraced by Ronnie, right in the middle
of the dance floor, Jerry and Bones were ‘escorting’ Alan
away while he protested, but was too afraid to fight.  I
heard Jerry saying to him, “We just need to settle up a bet
your little hooker made.” And they were gone.  I was left
alone with Ronnie while the music changed to another, sappy
solo chick song, singing some shit about loving you the rest
of her life.  Talk about being a hooker.
     My instinct was to push the troll away, but his hands
were gripping me fiercely around the waist.  My actual
reaction was to squeal, shaking my head violently as he
pulled me close, jamming my body against his,
     “Don’t you want to dance, Ariel?”
     The frantic arousal that had almost gotten me my first
kiss, not to mention my first lay refused to desert me.  I
found the heat and pressure of the chubby little ogre to be
every bit as tantalizing as the prospect of giving myself to
Alan had been.
     “Oh god, Ronnie, not now!” I pleaded, letting my hands
fall on his shoulders, too weak to fight him but too wound
up to rationally think about any other response.  I found my
body little concerned about the substitution of male organs
on my hip.   I was fighting the urge to keep grinding away,
as if nothing had changed.
     “Nice little peepshow you were giving there.” He
murmured in my ear.  “I like it when a girl flashes her
titties.” And he leaned just a bit closer and locked his
lips on my neck, sucking and licking as I gasped in
response, my hands tightening up on his shoulders before I
threw my arms around him pulling his face tighter.  Even as
I did that I realized that in my abandon with Alan my shirt
had hiked up.  If you hadn't seen my tits before through the
armholes, you got to see them hanging out underneath the
fabric; the peepshow he had mentioned.  I tried not to look
around to see who had seen.
     I tried not to think about that, nor the way people
must be looking at me.  I tried to freeze in Ronnie’s grasp
as he mauled my neck, but I let him grope me, and thrust his
cock against my pubic bone.  I had to let the heat swell up
around my neck, spreading over my face and shoulders, the
passionate, painful sucking and gnawing was moving down to
my collarbone as my loins erupted with wild enlightenment
into the world of a wanton sex addict.  The reality of the
situation refused to stop dogging me, however.  I was on the
dance floor.  I couldn't surrender.  Ronnie was a pig.  I
couldn't let him make me a whore.
     It was Ronnie who pulled me, inadvertently back to
reality.  He twisted my head to face him, and spreading his
lips he jammed out his tongue and tried to spear my lips
with it.  The sheer horror of accommodating that nasty
vessel of slime made me squeal in shock, and I hunkered down
in his arms, refusing to budge a muscle lest I get too
carried away, “Let go of me!” I cried into his shoulder.
     “You still have to settle the bet.”
     I raised my head and shouted at him, “I didn’t take any
bet you disgusting little troglodyte!”
     He looked confused by the reference to a medieval frog-
man, as he should be, but it was pretty clear that he got
the insult.  He scowled, “You agreed, we all heard you.”
     I tried to push him away, but his had on hand on my ass
trying to dig through the fabric and pressing against my
asshole, and he was grabbing my tit with the other.  I could
feel my clothes coming off and was more terrified of that
than of letting Ronnie have his way.  It was either too dim
for the surrounding dancers to notice, or they just didn’t
care, but I clearly didn’t have any help coming,
     I stopped struggling even as Ronnie jammed me tight
against his dick and slid his hand under my shirt.  “I never
agreed, you bullied me.” I tried to relax and concentrate on
crushing the blistering ache of my erupting sexuality from
persuading my body to succumb to Ronnie.  He held his face
close to mine, and caressed and cupped my bare breast under
my shirt.  I let him hump me.  I tried to think about banana
slugs.  It wasn't hard, but it didn't help.
     “I had you all figured out.  I said you’d be wearing a
thong-“
     “It’s a G-string!” Why I bothered to correct him I
don’t know.
     He grinned at me, and I busied myself trying to fix my
shirt to cover my boobs better.  I tried to stop his hand,
but he just pinched me and held on while I bit my tongue and
tried not to gasp in pain.  Ronnie said, “And you were
wearing it, right there in front of everyone.  Wore a G-
string,” he emphasized the word for my benefit, pushing his
face too close to my ear and causing me to shudder as the
willies stumbled down my spine, “You were just as hot and
bothered as I said you were.”
     “I wasn’t hot and bothered!” I lied.
     “Bullshit.” He said calmly, grabbing my chin and making
me face him, “You’d have fucked any one of us right there
behind the palm trees when Bones stuck that pack in your
cunt.”
     “He didn’t stick it in my cunt!” I shouted, hammering
on his hand in a futile effort to make him release my chin.
     “Just admit it.  I ain’t gonna tell anybody, just admit
it.”
     “I’m not going to admit anything, and I didn’t take
your bet.”
     “You did, you even said so in the doorway.”
     “You were blackmailing me.”
     “You were begging for it.”
     “I was half naked, and you were going to lock me out in
the hall!”
     His organs were slammed against mine.  His turgidity
and my steamy heat colliding in an inferno of teen angst.
     “You didn’t have to come with us.”
     “My parents would kill me if they knew I was here-“ I
shut up.  I shouldn’t have told him that, but it was too
late.
     He took a different route than I’d expected however,
“Well, we’ll make sure they never find out.  We’ll even take
you home afterwards.”
     “I’m not letting you drag me out that door.”
     He smiled, “We won’t have to, because I know you want
to go.”
     “I don’t want to go.”
     “Yes you do.”
     “Why?  Why would I want to let seven guys rape me?”
     “Cause it won’t be rape, you’ll be begging for it, just
like I said.”
     “I’d never-“ but he cut me off,
     “You said you weren’t wearing these,” and he pinched
the string through my wrap, tugging it upwards, forcing me
to gasp, clamping my teeth, trying not to show him how good
the pain felt.  He saw it anyways, and pressed his point,
“And you said you weren’t hot for it, but Jerry and I got
you hard up just talking about it.”
     “It wasn’t you and Jerry, it was-“ and I shut up again,
he was running his hand delicately down my neck, his other
hand fondling my ass, a lone finger occupied with keeping
tension on the string.
     “Who?  Was it Bill?”
     I shook my head, still fighting the impulses
threatening to make a total liar out of me and let him walk
me out the side door of my own free will, but I was
conspiring against myself.  In my efforts to pull down my
shirt and cover my chest I’d started stroking myself.  I let
my forehead lean against Ronnie’s, and I tried hard not to
pant like a dog.
     “It wasn’t that dork Alan, no way!” he said, his eyes
latched to mine.  I pressed myself against the slug, my body
overwhelmed by the erotic impulses that seemed destined to
destroy my chastity that night.  I realized with meager
satisfaction that for all the incredible, overwhelming lust
that tantalized me against my will, Ronnie was just as bad
off as I was.  The boy was visibly drooling (was I? I
wondered).  His erection was desperately straining to burst
free, and his breathing was shallow.  His voice was starting
to crack as he drilled me.  It was a meager consolation.  He
was the one capable of forcing the issue, where I couldn’t
even pretend to feel otherwise.  At least I knew it was me
who got him hot.
     “No one,” I panted, “You’re wrong.” And with a grin I
twisted my hip, pressing hard against his cock.  The sixteen-
year old boy shuddered and moaned.  I saw my desperate state
reflected in his passions.
     “You fucking tease!  Who was it?” he belched out,
gasping, his lips blubbering against mine.
     Fine, I thought, whatever, “It was Wade, Alan’s
brother.”  I was much more interested in getting on with
whatever Ronnie had in mind.
     “Wade Prescott?  The quarterback?”
     I nodded.
     “You fucked Wade Prescott?”
     I shook my head, feeling evasion and lies just weren’t
worth it any more, “We were...” I had to inhale.  Panting so
much. “Security guard stopped us…” I trailed off, rolling my
forehead against his as the growing pressure from Ronnie
kneading my ass and rubbing my pubic bone threatened to drop
me to the floor right there.
     “I knew you…” Ronnie had to moan, as I fought back in
kind grinding against his cock with more vigor.  “…knew you
weren’t a virgin.” He murmered.
     “Unh-uh,” I shook my head, “I am.  We just…” another
deep gasp as Ronnie’s hand grabbed my breast again.  The one
I wasn't touching.  “We just messed around.”
     “But you were gonna?” Ronnie left his hand there,
apparently enjoying what I was doing to him as much as I
hated what he was doing.
     “’course I was.” I said sardonically, Kind of enjoying
the power I had over him, “He was a quarterback.” I let him
squeeze my breast this time.  No one seemed to be watching.
The lights were dim, everyone was into their own partners.
The crowd was pretty dense.
     “He’d have been your first.” Ronnie asked, slipping his
hand under my shirt again to fondle my bare breast.
     I nodded, eyeballing him while he kept his lips
hovering close to mine.  I tasted his saliva on my mouth.
     “Now I’m gonna be your first.” He was grinning, his
eyes glazed.
     I turned my head, “I didn’t take no bet.”
     “You did.”
     I just shook my head, and he looked long and hard at
me.  “Look.” He said, his words slurring, “You only lost the
first part of the bet.”
     “I didn’t take no bet.”
     “Let’s just say you did.”
     “Nuh-uh.”
     “Come on,”
     “Whatever.” We were both a spinning, drooling mess of
alcohol stupor and sexual arousal too long denied.  But the
groping dies down.  Ronnie's hands were almost proper.  I
put my hands on his pudgy shoulders and let him hold me.
     “You still have to pass the second part.” He said over
my shoulder.
     “Third base?” I said, trying to remember the terms he
had outlined.  It seemed so long ago.
     He seemed confused, then stuttered, “Y-yeah!”
     “No way!” I lolled my head in sort of a shaking denial,
but I was grinning.
     “You lost part one, now you have to do part two.”
     “Oh, yeah, and then what?”
     He was grinning wider, “Then you have to fuck me.”
     “Without foreplay?” I remembered that part.
     “Right.”
     “Dream on, jocko.” I glowered at him.
     “Only if you fail part two.”
     “Oh, I’ll fail it.”
     “Not necessarily.”  He was acting like he hadn't shoved
his fingers inside me.
     “Definitely.”  I iterated.
     “No one forced you to take the bet.”
     “No one forced you to blackmail me at the door.”
     “It was your choice.”
     “And if I lose I’ll be your sex slave all year long.” I
was slowly coming to my senses.  Ronnie didn't seem so
alluring all of a sudden.
     “Only if you don’t pass.”
     I pushed him back, still dancing with him, but there
was space between us suddenly and the cold air was a blast
of renewed consciousness and relief.
     “I’m not letting you go down there.”
     “You could still pass the test.”
     “You know I'd fail.”
     “Maybe”
     “You know!”  I said, but I was afraid to remind him
that he'd touched me there once.  What if I'd been mistaken?
The alcohol and the repugnant desire to fuck this pug-dog
was overwhelming my ability to think clearly, “What do I
have to do again?”
     “If you’re wet you have to fuck us.”
     “Us?”
     “You made the bet with me and Jerry.”
     “That asshole ain’t touching me.” But for some reason I
was letting this asshole keep pawing his hands all over me.
     “If you’re wet enough to do us, that means...”
     “What?  That I'm a slut?”
     “Yeah.  Like Jerry said.”
     “So what if I’m a slut?”
     “Well, you have to do all seven of us.”
     “That'd fucking kill me.”
     “No way.  We wouldn’t hurt a hair on your head.”
     “It’s not my head I’m worried about.  Have you ever had
seven dicks inside you?”
     “Have you?”
     “No! And I’m not about to.”
     “Well, if you’re dry like you said you won’t have to.”
     “How am I supposed to know if I’m wet enough to fuck?”
     “That’s what the test is for.”
     “Oh yeah, to find out, just sort of an in-out kind of
thing, right?”
     “Yeah.” Ronnie actually looked like he believed it, but
considering how turned on he was it probably would have been
in and out like a light.
     “I don’t remember that being part of the bet.”
     “It was, all the guys heard me.”
     “And if I lose, because Wade got me horny, I have to
fuck you and Jerry.”
     “Yeah, but unless you beg for more we lose the bet and
have to look out for you the rest of the year!”
     His earnestness was unsettling.  I had little doubt
that I’d win the last part of the bet, but that was probably
because I’d be half-dead and unconscious by the time Ronnie
and Jerry were done winning the next part.  If that didn’t
do it I’d probably die in a back-alley abortion clinic
somewhere since my parents would never consent to me having
an abortion.  I’d kill myself before squeezing out a little
jock puppy.
     “You’re a fucking lunatic, Ronnie.”
     “Don’t pretend you don’t want it, Ariel.”
     “I do want it, but not with you.”  I tried to pull
away. “Let go of me.”
     “You actually want to fuck that jerk Alan?”
     “Yeah, I actually do, what business is it of yours?”
He still wouldn’t let me go, but I was struggling harder
now.
     “He won’t touch your ass after what Jerry told him.”
     “Like he’d believe Jerry.”
     “He doesn’t have to believe, your boyfriend won’t do
it!”
     “He’s not my boyfriend.”
     “So you were just gonna fuck some random guy, but you
won’t fuck me?”
     I stopped fighting him for a minute, and he relaxed his
painful grip on my arms.  “Yeah, Ronnie.  That’s it.”
     “You lost the bet.” He said, menacing and scary again.
“You took the bet, and you lost it, now you have to own up.”
     “It's time to let me go now, Ronnie.”  I said finally
feeling like I meant it.
     I guess I sounded like it.  He finally let me go.
     “You lied about your underwear.”  He said.   I turned
to walk away, “You lied about being wet!”  I tired to ignore
him, but he followed after me, “I felt you, Ariel.”  The pit
of my stomach was burning.  I was going to throw up.
“You’re lying about me too, bitch!”  I started running,
“Ariel!!!”
     I was running through the dancers.  The music changed
and people started bouncing (really, that’s how they dance
these days, they just bounce up and down in little groups).
I was lost in the throng of kids rushing on to the dance
floor, my sanity barely in tact.  I had actually entertained
the terms of Ronnie’s bet, as if my consent had been
anything but total duress.  I knew it was because I really
wanted to try sex. I liked being horny and I liked how it
felt.  I was horribly ashamed to know that I liked it like a
guy, in that groping, stumbling indiscriminate way that
meant I was no different than a jock or a cheerleader, or
Mrs. Fucking Dee and her dyky prudishness.
     I walked off the dance floor, pinching myself,
frantically trying to find some way to clear my mind and get
my cunt to stop sending these “FUCK ME!” messages to my
brain.  I was shaking with the knowledge that had Ronnie
been a little more subtle I would have let his pathetic,
adolescent attempts at seduction overwhelm the last
semblance of rational thought I possessed.  Fortunately for
me, he had brought up Jerry, and of course the ultimate
gangbang that would take place on my ass once it became
painfully obvious that I was positively gushing with fucking
juice.
     How dim and stupid could I have been to let him draw me
in like that.  I was a grown woman.  I was above all that
shit.
     I glimpsed Alan. He seemed to be looking for me and I
suddenly put the blame squarely where it belonged.  It was
that little creep’s fault.  He’s the one who sent his
gorgeous fucking brother over to my house to seduce me and
dump me off in this godforsaken hellhole of a social life.
He’s the one who dragged me onto the dance floor and got me
all wound up then abandoned me to the troll king.  The
little pussy couldn’t even fight them off, and I’d actually
asked him to fuck me.  I was going to give that simpering
little weasel my virginity who couldn’t get me wet without
help with a fire hose.  I was ready to bet that he’d sent
Wade over to get me worked up, staged the whole thing with
the security guard and everything just to get me ready and
willing to put out for him, but Ronnie and his slugs screwed
up his plans, and now I was at the mercy of a bunch of horny
thugs.
     My path had taken me right back to the tables, where a
lot more kids were gathered, drinking their punch, chatting,
making a good time of their pathetic, uninteresting lives.
Right next to the tables were the bathrooms, and I realized
with little satisfaction that my predicament had left me
without the need to strip completely to pee.  That wasn’t
why I eyed the girl’s room with interest, however.
     But as I formed a plan in my head a tall, lean guy
walked up to me.  He wasn’t bad looking, to tell the truth,
in spite of his plain blue jeans, striped sweater, and short
conservative haircut.  He had a nice jaw, and his aquiline
nose was proud on his face, not like Alan’s.  He also had a
good smile, and really nice eyes.
     “Hi uh, Ariel,” he stammered, shy like a lot of guys
our age.  “I’m Mike, I’m in your history class.”
     “Hi, Mike.”  I said, trying to be polite, though my
words came out like an insult.
     He was obviously trying really hard not to look
straight down my shirt, his hand clutching a plastic cup,
half empty but for the ice in it.
     “Wanna dance?” he asked.
     I eyed his cup, then reached out and put my hand on it.
He let me take it from him, and I took a sip.  It was super
sweet, sickly stuff.  I felt my shirt riding up, and I let
it.  I let Mike see the kind of girl he was propositioning
(though deep inside I hoped he wouldn't see my nipple).
     “Tell you what, Mike.”
     He nodded, waiting patiently for me to finish, looking
me in the eye.
     I took another sip, “I’m gonna go dump this on my cunt.
Then we can dance, okay.”
     As expected, he stood there like an idiot, and I turned
and walked into the girl’s bathroom.