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Subject: RP: {PARKER} Stacy's Senior Year [9A/10]
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_/ _/
_/ I am *not* the author. _/
_/ The author is PARKER <an210088@anon.penet.fi> _/
_/ _/
_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/
STACY'S SENIOR YEAR
(PART NINE-A)
by Parker
WARNING: This story contains any number of things which
could cause offence: blackmail, humilation, non-consensual
intercourse, D&S and all that sort of good stuff. If you are
offended by this kind of thing, STOP READING. This is not
for you. Consider yourself warned.
- This is the ninth part of a ten-part story. For those of
you who have been patient enough to get through the previous
eight parts, go ahead. If you haven't yet done so, I suggest
you read them before reading this.
Copyright 1993 (whatever that means). Feel free to
spread as many copies about as you wish, but I would
appreciate it if you would spread these copies in their
original form along with the original attribution. I
want all of the blame/credit; after all, I did all the
work. That's all.
=================================================================
"Do you remember Peter Jenkins?"
Sharon looked up from her position on the bed, where she was
skimming through the latest National Enquirer. Gary was sitting
in front of his computer with an old Greenwood school yearbook
open in his lap.
"Huh?"
"Jenkins," Gary repeated. "Peter Jenkins. He was in grade
twelve when you were in grade nine." He turned and handed over
the old school yearbook, pointing to a picture. "That guy. He
went out for Stacy for a little while, but she broke up with
him."
"Oh... that's right. He's the one who got so drunk at the
Prom that he vomited all over himself; they had to throw him
out."
"That's him." Gary took back the yearbook and gazed at the
picture. "He was fucked up over Stacy for months: a real basket
case."
Sharon glanced back at her National Enquirer for a moment,
but then turned her attention back to her boyfriend. He must have
something in mind, even if it was taking him a little while to
get to it.
Gary just stared intently at the picture for a moment,
saying nothing, and then went back to work on his computer.
"Yeah?"
Maybe a little prodding was necessary.
"Nothing special." He hit the return button on his computer,
saving some work. That done, he turned back to Sharon.
"I heard he was working up in Point Hope."
Sharon waited silently for the other shoe to drop. This
time, it was not long in coming.
"I was just thinking," he mused, gazing again at the
yearbook, "that maybe we're being a little greedy, keeping Stacy
to ourselves up here in Bakersville. Wouldn't it be nice if we
could get him back together with his old high school flame... at
least for one night?"
*****
NUMBER 52 - 56
The game was over, and the players had long since showered
up and left the building. Biff Talbot lead his four friends into
the now-deserted locker room. Together, they made up the first-
string offensive line of the Greenwood Bulldogs, the football
team at Greenwood High. As offensive linemen, they had not been
picked for their speed, dexterity or intelligence. No; they
occupied the position they did on the football team because of
their size. The smallest of them, Billy Paxter - "little Bill" -
was 6'2" and weighed just over 240 lbs. He received a lot of
ribbing on the team because of his size.
Being an offensive lineman, even a good one, was not a
particularly glamorous position. It was pretty much all grunt
work - "down-in-the-trenches" kind of stuff. The type of football
that won games by attrition, not by spectacular solo efforts.
Hence, all the attention... all the acclaim; all the girls went
to the players in the flashier positions, such as the
quarterbacks and wide receivers and the like.
Until today.
Grinning his big, stupid grin, Biff flipped open the door to
one of the unused lockers at the end of the wall.
"Holy shit!"
Stacy flinched at the sudden brightness.
She had been crouched in the locker for almost three hours,
ever since the end of the game when Barry Packard had hustled her
into the locker room just as the final few moments expired on the
clock. Barry hadn't been "using" her since early January, when he
had started going steady with another girl at school, but he
hadn't forgotten Stacy either. Particularly when Neil had
"explained" a few things to him. At first, he had been a little
depressed at the knowledge that Stacy had only been fucking him
because she was being forced to do so. Then he got angry; the
bitch wouldn't give him the time of day unless she had to! At
least he was seeing Heather now. And, he thought,
philosophically, Stacy was such a slut these days, he didn't
really want to fuck her anymore. She was used goods. Who knew
where her pussy had been?
Nevertheless, although he might not want her anymore for
himself, he could always do favours for his buddies. Stacy hadn't
complained when he told her what she was to do, not that it would
have done her any good. He had been quite prepared to "insist".
She had just stared down at the ground and nodded her head
silently when he had told her what she was going to do; all five
guys were "new meat" (Sharon's term). Each fuck would bring her
closer to the end of her ordeal.
"Get in," Barry ordered, opening up a locker. "Hurry."
Stacy hesitated slightly - the locker was pretty small - but
then she obeyed. Making certain she had a firm grip on the small
flask (red wine this time), she wriggled ass-first into the
locker, facing outwards. Her tight little cheerleading costume -
green, sleeveless blouse and white skirt - rode up on her thighs,
exposing her bare pussy to the open air. Barry, unable to resist,
reached down and fondled it, slipping his middle finger into her
snatch and wiggling it around. Stacy had not yet ingested any of
the wine, and thus squirmed away. Barry didn't notice.
A few seconds later, Barry stepped back to take a look.
Stacy was wedged backwards into the locker, crouched on the heels
of her feet, with her thighs splayed open. 'Looking good' he
thought. 'Just one more...'
"Hold on," he muttered, moving away out of Stacy's line of
vision. Stacy waited nervously. The game must be over by now. Any
moment there would be...
"Here we are."
Barry had returned with a couple of dildos a foot long,
"I know how hot you are," he muttered bending down. "I
wouldn't want you to get lonely down here while you're waiting."
He reached under her crotch and slowly inserted one of the dildos
handles into her dry pussy. Stacy squealed and tried to wriggle
away, but the silver tube slid quickly up into her pussy until
about eight inches of it was lost from view. Barry propped it up
on the base of the locker. Stacy tried to push herself away, but
was only able to move up about four inches before her head hit
the top of the locker; she was now effectively impaled on the
handle until she left the enclosed space.
Leering, Barry passed the other to her.
"This is for your mouth," Barry instructed her. "When my
buddies open this locker, I expect you to be tonguing it the way
you sucked my cock a couple of months ago."
Stacy looked up at him from where she crouched in the
locker, her eyes watering with humiliation. "If not," he
continued, unrelenting, "I'll have to complain to Sharon." He
smirked at her. " We wouldn't want that, would we?"
A tear trickled down Stacy's cheek as she nodded.
"How about a demonstration?" Barry suggested.
Stacy hesitated momentarily, but then brought the handle up
to her mouth and began tonguing and licking it. She closed her
eyes as she did so, trying to imagine that it was a real cock;
that she was anywhere but here...
FLASH!
Stacy's eyes flew open. Barry was standing in front of her
with a polaroid camera. He took another picture while she stared
at him in panic and then lowered the camera.
"Looking good," he laughed.
Stacy turned red, but continued sucking hungrily at the
handle as she had been ordered to do.
Still laughing, Barry moved forward and slammed shut the
locker door. Inside, Stacy pulled the handled out of her mouth
and reached down for the thermos, wincing as the slight movement
caused the unwelcome visitor in her pussy to grind itself in a
little further.
Stacy had remained in the cramped confines of the locker for
the next three hours before Biff and the rest of the linemen
arrived. It had been quite hot in the locker room, particularly
as the boys were showering, and by the end of the three hours,
her entire body was damp with sweat. Her skirt was bunched up at
her waist, and the shirt of the cheerleading outfit, never all
that concealing in the first place, was now plastered to her
upper body, clearly revealing her rock-hard nipples.
She had gone through most of the wine in the thermos, more
from thirst than anything else, and she was almost unbearably
horny. More than once during her stay in the locker, she had been
tempted to burst out and grab one of the cocks that floated so
temptingly across her limited field of vision (there were small
ventilation slits in the front of the locker), but common sense -
and a good dose of fear - had won out. There were over twenty
boys in the locker room. And she still had some pride left. Her
sluttishness was not yet common knowledge at Greenwood, and she
desperately wanted to keep it that way. Only another fifteen or
so guys to fuck.
So, in the end, she had to settle for sliding up and down on
the now-slippery handle Barry had stuck in her pussy. By doing so
and wriggling around as much as she could, she managed to bring
on several small orgasms in the course of the three hours as the
boys of the football team showered and changed, unsuspecting, all
around her. At one point, she was afraid that her moans would
give her away, but she was unable to stop herself from sliding up
and down on the metal "cock".
So instead, she stuck the second handle in her mouth and
began to suck, thus muffling any noises she might have made.
Three hour passed slowly...
"Holy shit!"
Stacy Richards squinted up at the surprised football players
from inside the locker. Her cheerleading outfit was plastered to
her sweat-soaked body. Her pussy, clearly displayed from in
between her splayed thighs, sucked hungrily at the shiny metal
cylinder as she slide herself up and down on it. Her hands
clutched another metal cylinder - barbell handle, Biff realized -
and slid it suggestively in and out of her mouth, between her
shiny, wet lips. Her charm bracelet jingled quietly as she moved
the metal handle up and down, all the while making quiet moaning
sounds around the object in her mouth.
Biff tore his eyes away from this incredible sight and
turned to his equally stunned friends.
"Guys," he chortled, "I give you... Stacy Richards. She's
ours for the evening."
"Jesus."
They couldn't believe it. Stacy Richards; the Stacy Richards
who had been flaunting herself in front of them from the
sidelines these last three years; the Stacy Richards who had
teased them, yet only gone out with the quarterbacks and other
stars; the Stacy Richards of their dreams. Bill moved forward
first, reaching into the locker.
"Wait," Biff told him. Barry had given him some
instructions. "Just wait a second."
Biff moved forward and looked down on Stacy. She looked back
up at him, tears of humiliation burning in her large, green eyes;
tears of humiliation... and something else. He reached down and
gently took away the barbell handle she had been sucking on. She
moaned softly, but didn't resist as he slid it out from between
her lips.
"Stacy," he said quietly, "is there something you'd like to
say?" Despite what Barry had told him, Biff still couldn't really
believe she would say it. Once again, he was surprised.
"Fuck me," she moaned, eyes closing as she ground the second
handled deeper and deeper into her sopping pussy. "I need your
cocks."
This was enough for the guys, and they surged forward. Biff,
however, held them back again. One more thing...
"What do you say?" he asked the desperate girl.
She looked up at him for a few moments, but then glanced
away, unable to meet his eyes.
"Please..."
"What? I didn't hear you."
Stacy looked up at him, lips parted. "Please," she said, her
voice louder. "Please fuck me. I need you all; I n-need your
cocks in me. Please fuck me... p-please shoot your sperm into me.
Please..."
And they did.
*****
Friday afternoon. 3:45 PM. The school cafeteria was almost
empty, as most of the students at Greenwood had, typically,
declined the opportunity to hang around the school after classes.
The weekend beckoned, and, with the wonderful late spring
weather, the beach was exerting its almost magnetic pull on the
teenagers of Bakersville.
The cafeteria was not, however, completely deserted. Three
students sat, quietly talking, in a corner table. Gary, as usual,
did most of the talking. He was also the one who handed out the
latest round of money from the sale of pictures to various
magazines. May had been a good month for them as far as picture
sales went. Stacy had now unwittingly adorned the pages of over a
dozen magazines across the country, with more to come. It was
only a matter of time before she found out - before someone in
Bakersville saw some of the pictures and spread the news - but
they didn't really care. Their time with Stacy was nearly done
anyway.
The main cafeteria door opened and Karen walked in, followed
closely by Ashley. The two girls had spent more and more time
together over the last six weeks as Karen tightened her hold over
the older girl. Like Stacy, Ashley was the victim of blackmail,
and, as had been the case with Stacy, events had quickly moved
beyond her control. Since the incident which put her in this
vulnerable position in the first place, there had been any number
of events which had deepened Karen's hold on her. All Ashley
could think of was the end of the school year and freedom. All
Karen could think of was how nice it was to have such a beautiful
girl as Ashley as a personal slave, and how hard it would be to
give it up.
If she gave her up...
"Wait here," Karen ordered, moving towards her three friends
in the corner. Obediently, but not without a flash of anger, the
tall brunette sat down on a bench near the door.
"What's up?" Karen asked as she approached. "Neil said you
wanted to meet."
"Just the final plans for tomorrow night," Sharon told her.
"The football party." She looked over at where Ashley sat,
staring at the floor. "Everything's cool with her? Did she cause
any problems?"
Karen plopped herself down beside Neil. "No," she answered.
"No problem. We'll be there."
"Great," Sharon smiled. "I've got the perfect costume picked
out; the guys are gonna love her." Neil chuckled at this, but
Karen only frowned.
"Listen," she said tentatively, "she's not gonna get... you
know... hurt or anything like that?"
"Ha," Neil laughed. "Just get her brains fucked out. That's
all."
"No," Karen ignored him. "I mean like, beaten, or... well...
you know."
"Huh uh," Sharon shook her head. "Nothing like that. It's
just a party; the guys on the football team at BCN just want to
celebrate the end of the season with a big blow out. Stacy was
such a big hit the last time, they want her back again." Sharon
looked over at Gary who didn't react. "I offered them Ashley as
well because you said you wanted the money. They were willing to
pay twice as much for two girls."
Karen looked undecided.
"There's not a problem with that, is there?" Gary asked.
Karen looked over at Gary, meeting his intense stare for a few
moments and then looking away.
"No," she answered finally. "I just don't want her hurt.
That's all."
The table fell silent for a few moments.
"OK then," Sharon stated. "That's settled. You'll meet us at
my house at eight to get the girls dressed."
"Yeah," Karen told her, getting to her feet. "We'll be
there." This said, she turned and walked away towards the waiting
Ashley. She walked straight past her and out the door. After a
confused glance at the three teenagers in the corner, Ashley
scrambled to her feet and followed her out.
"What was that all about?" Neil muttered.
"Dunno." Sharon shrugged her shoulders.
Gary laughed. His two friends turned towards him. "It's
spring," he explained, grinning.
"Huh?"
"You know," Gary insisted. "Spring. Birds and bees and that
sort of thing."
His two friends stared at him, blank looks on their faces.
Gary sighed.
"I think our Karen is falling in love..."
*****
When Peter Jenkins had called to invite her to a party up in
Point Hope, Stacy had jumped at the opportunity. Peter was two
years older than her, and had been a senior at Greenwood when
Stacy had been in grade ten. They had gone steady for a little
while - about nine dates altogether - but Stacy had eventually
dumped him when the current captain of the football team had
expressed an interest in her. She had never really seen much of
Peter after that; she knew that he didn't get another girlfriend
that year, but never really thought about it. In her mind, the
split-up had been entirely natural, and, if it bothered him,
well... he'd just have to grow up a bit, wouldn't he?
Thus, when he called her up, she had not hesitated to accept
his invitation. He had moved to the nearby town of Point Hope
after graduation, where he worked as a clerk in a department
store. For Stacy, it represented the chance to get away from her
present situation; to go to a party with people who didn't know
her and wouldn't force her to have sex with them. It sounded
perfect.
She even bought a new dress for the occasion. A sleeveless
green dress with little ruffles on the shoulders. It matched her
eyes perfectly, and, she thought, it made her look a bit like a
little girl. She had made a mental note to do her hair up into a
pony tail. It was the sort of look which used to drive the guys
wild back when she had enjoyed that sort of teasing. Now, of
course, she was obliged, as often as not, to put out, so the
cock-teasing was not as much fun as it used to be.
Not tonight, though. Tonight, she could be her old self. No
one in Point Hope knew her or went to Greenwood. It would be just
like old times.
Peter showed up at 7:00 PM as planned. It was almost a two
hour drive to Point Hope, so he wanted to leave fairly early. She
had been ready a good fifteen minutes before he arrived, but she
still kept him waiting downstairs for almost half an hour; it was
just like old times.
He hadn't changed much. Always rather short, the last couple
of years had seen his body fill out quite a bit until he was
beginning to show a bit of pudginess. Obviously, the clerking job
at the department store didn't involve much physical activity.
Stacy felt herself sneering a bit as he led her out to his car -
a somewhat battered Toyota Tercel; he was turning into a bit of a
slob. The way he looked now, he couldn't be getting too much in
the way of attention from any girls; that was probably why he had
turned to his old high school girlfriend for a date at this
party. No doubt he'd be so overwhelmed at having such a beautiful
date as herself, he'd do whatever she wanted. What a schmuck!
The drive up the coast to Point Hope was not particularly
scenic. The only real nice part of the drive came just as they
passed by the Point Hope Maximum Security Penitentiary and
crested the hill leading down into the town itself. Point Hope
was a quiet little town nestled against the beach below the
sandstone cliffs. The view from the top of the hill was little
short of spectacular.
Stacy, however, had seen it all before. Besides, she was
having too much fun annoying Peter. The two hour drive had been
marked by small talk and long silences, but Stacy had quickly
discovered that Peter was still easily upset by talk of their
brief relationship a couple years earlier in high school. He had
flushed an angry red when she had brought it up earlier in the
trip, and had, since then, shut up almost entirely. Stacy,
however, was enjoying herself immensely. She made a point of
bringing it up as often as possible. By the time they arrived at
the party, she was in a great mood, and Peter was quiet and
sullen.
Peter fought to remain patient as he led Stacy up the walk
to the front door. This had better be worth it!
He had received a phone call from a guy - some kid - at
Greenwood, telling him something about Stacy's recent activities,
and about her "weakness" for alcohol. The caller had suggested
that once she had a couple of drinks in her, she would do
anything, and that 'wouldn't it be nice if the two of them got
back together for a date.'
Peter wasn't sure if he believed him, but it was worth a
try. Stacy had been an incredible bitch to him in high school,
and any chance to get even was well worth attempting.
Since the phone call, he had been experiencing this
recurring fantasy...
Stacy quickly realized that she was overdressed for the
party. Most of the guests seemed to be blue collar workers from a
local fish packing plant; the majority of them wore nothing more
fancy than jeans and tee-shirts. Stacy was the only woman there
in a dress. She was also the only one young enough to be in high
school.
Peter immediately brought her a glass of punch. When she
sipped at it, Stacy discovered that it was a bit strong for her
taste, but not too bad. She took another, longer, drink from the
glass. The way things were shaping up at the party, a couple of
drinks might well be called for. The whole idea of coming to this
party with her ex-boyfriend was beginning to look like a bad
idea. A little alcohol never hurt anyone; she finished the drink.
Peter brought her another one and stood talking with her while
she finished that one as well.
He asked her to dance.
At first, everything went well. The music was up-tempo and
the dancing was fun, despite her inappropriate dress. After a
while, though, she began to feel a bit queasy. It must have been
the punch. In fact, she realized suddenly, if felt a little
like...
A new song started. A slow song.
Peter pulled her close, into his chest; instinctively, she
draped her bare arms over his shoulders and they began to dance,
slowly revolving around the dance floor. As they danced, Stacy
began to experience the now-familiar feeling of disassociation as
the room started to spin. She closed her eyes and held on to
Peter's shoulders, trying to fight off the dizziness. The music
and other noise in the room seemed to recede into the background.
The drug! They had drugged her; Gary must have arranged this.
Panicked, Stacy tried to disentangle herself, but she was
unable to do so. Her limbs failed to respond properly, and it was
all she could do to hold onto her dance partner in order to keep
herself from sinking to the floor. Around and around they went,
each revolution sending Stacy's perception spinning, until all
she was aware of in the room was Peter. There was nothing else;
just a blur of sound and a solid object she could hang onto.
She felt the warm tingling begin in her groin.
"Stacy..."
A voice! Her eyes opened and struggled to focus on the face
in front of her. Peter? Everything else was a blur.
"Do you remember going out with me in high school?"
Remember? Of course she remembered. Stacy nodded in the
affirmative, still trying to focus. Why was he asking? The tingle
in her groin grew stronger.
"We went on nine dates," Peter murmured to her. "Nine
dates..."
Stacy felt one of his hands leave her shoulder, slide down
the back of her dress and latch onto her ass. She felt that she
should make some objection, but...
"And all I got was one kiss," the voice continued. "One
kiss..."
The blonde teenager tried to focus on what Peter was saying,
but the hand on her butt was making concentration difficult. She
felt the hand pull away...
"One kiss..."
...and begin pulling the zipper of her dress down her back.
She tried to wriggle free, but her arms remained wrapped around
Peter's shoulders.
"I don't think that's fair. Do you?"
"N-no." Stacy discovered that she could speak, although even
her own voice seemed distant to her. The zipper was now all the
way down, and she could feel the cool air of the room on the
small of her back. The feelings of arousal increased, spreading
up from her crotch into her belly. Involuntarily, she ground her
lower body against Peter as the dance continued.
"So," Peter continued, "we're going to work through those
dates now. All nine of them. As they should have been."
Stacy tried to shake her head, no. Not here; she wanted him
to take her to a bedroom or something... do what he wanted there,
but not here. Not in front of...
"First date," he whispered, his tongue licking out at her
hear. "A kiss would be nice."
Retreating from her ear, he brought his lips down against
hers. She moaned softly, parting her lips, but he quickly pulled
away. That felt so good, but not here. Please, not here.
"Second date," he continued. One of the straps of the dress
slid off a shoulder. She tried to shrug it back on, but it just
slipped further down her arm.
"Maybe some tongue."
This time, he thrust his tongue into her willing mouth. She
kissed back, unable to do anything else as a wave of lust surged
through her body. Oh god...
The kiss broke, but the dance continued.
The dance continued through the "third date", where he
copped a feel of her breasts through the fabric of her dress. Her
nipples hardened immediately when he ran his fingers over them.
On the "fourth date", he removed her bra, unclipping it from
behind her back and sliding it off. By now, her dress had slid
down off the other shoulder, uncovering her back all the way down
to the top of her ass and leaving her breasts partly exposed...
More of the same on the "fifth date". Some heavy necking
while mauling at her now almost-naked breasts. By now, Stacy was
panting with lust, all thought of where she was and who she was
with having fled her mind. All that mattered was...
The dance. She missed what he said on the "sixth date", but
by the end of the "seventh", she was grinding her crotch against
him with abandon...
"Eight date," he panted, hoarse. "It's time you felt my
cock."
She didn't need to be told twice. Groaning with lust, she
disentangled one arm from around his neck and reached down to his
crotch. With an ease born of much practice, she pulled down the
zipper and slide his cock free of his pants. It was already damp
and rigid...
"Ninth date," he gasped. "You need to be fucked." He looked
at her. "Beg for it."
"Please fuck me," she moaned. "I need to be fucked. Please
put your lovely cock into me, Peter. Fill me up. Please..."
Peter could take no more. He had been dreaming of this
moment for over two years. With a cry, he shoved her back against
the wall, pulled one of her legs up, and shoved his cock straight
into her dripping pussy. The dress, bunched up at the waist to
allow him access to her pussy, fell forward, abandoning any
pretence of covering her breasts.
Stacy didn't care.
Holding onto his shoulders, she wrapped both legs around
Peter's ass and fucked him right back as he drove her again and
again against the wall. She drooled and slobbered and squirmed
out her lust, all the time moaning and crying for him to fuck her
harder.
He obliged...
The last trembling vestige of orgasm rippled though her
beaten body. Groggy, she looked up from the floor where she sat,
propped against the wall. Just as she did so, a flash went off...
and then another.
Dazed, the blonde teenager looked around. She was lying,
practically naked, against the wall, her green dress a shapeless
mess around her waist. A group of people - the guests at the
party - were standing around, looking down on her and laughing. A
few of them had cameras and were using them. She heard the word
"slut" and "whore" coming up in conversation.
Were they talking about her?
Just as had happened before, the orgasm seemed to have
burned away the effects of the drugs, leaving Stacy clear-headed
and sober. Sobbing with embarrassment, she stumbled to her feet,
breasts bobbing merrily, clutching her dress around her as the
crowd laughed.
Another flash went off.
The dress didn't seem torn, and she quickly had it back over
her tits, but she was unable to zip it up on her own. Eyes
downward, she pushed her way through the crowd, looking for...
"Peter!"
He was standing with a couple of guys near the entrance to
the kitchen, drinking a beer. "What... what are you..."
He looked over at her and smirked. "I'd heard that you had
become quite a slut since my days at Greenwood. I just wanted to
see if it was true."
Stacy stopped talking and began to cry. Yet another flash
went off.
"Stop it," she cried, spinning around to strike out at
whoever was taking the picture. The blow missed, however, and she
succeeded only in letting the front of her dress flop forward
again. Two pictures were taken of her re-exposed breasts before
she was able to cover up.
Furious, she turned back to Peter. "Take me home," she
ordered. "Now."
Peter just laughed. "Are you kidding? Get home yourself, you
slut." He reached into his pocket and pulled out a ten dollar
bill. "Take this," he said, handing it to her. "There's a bus
depot just down the block. There are buses to Bakersville every
couple of hours."
Stunned, she held the ten dollar bill in her hand, staring
at him. Eventually, she turned and stumbled through the laughing
crowd to the door, still holding her unzipped dress around her.
"And Stacy," Peter called out from behind her.
She turned; maybe he was going to give her a ride after all.
"You were worth every penny."
The crowd roared with laughter as Stacy, tears running down
her face, ran out into the cool night air...
END PART NINE-A
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