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From: "wendy caulder" <she_cries@ftml.net>
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ReSent-Subject: Punk Rock Girl - The School Dance - Ch-1 (Mm/f, nc, humil)
 by she cries
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Subject: {ASSM} Punk Rock Girl - The School Dance - Ch-1 (Mm/f, nc, humil) by she cries
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author's note:  I was inspired to write this when I read about a lady
vice principal being sued for making girls pull up their skirts in line
to prove they didn't have thong underwear on for a high school dance. 
That brought up my own lifelong trauma of being a freaky kid in high
school that wore a lot of freaky lingere and what might  happen if I got
caught, say, by a raging steroid laden jock who I secretly wanted to
fuck.  Anyway, this one is long, so it's coming to you in chapters. 
That said, those of you who hate me for not finishing Breaking in
Teacher, this is the reason why I didn't, but I did finish this one
before posting it.  There ought to be a dozen or so more chapters to
follow, but this story does have an ending, I promise you that.  There
will be a sequel (which I have also written and am editing now about
"the day after."

Finally, look up Persephone over at Suicidegirls if you want to know who
really inspired this story.

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

by she cries - You can email me at she_cries A.T ftml D.O.T net

   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.

End of CH 1

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