Rock Concert
by Greg Ossog
Narrated by Denise Zellner
Here's how it started. I'm going to college next fall, at least
I hope I still am, and my friend Wendy had finished her first
year. I've known Wendy since third grade. She's friends with
Sandra, who introduced us to Diane, who has a huge house in this
gated community in the hills. (Well, her parents do, but they're
always off somewhere.) We all got along well, and though I
didn't know Sandy and Diane as well as I knew Wendy, I
considered them all friends.
The first Saturday after I graduated, the weather was very
pleasant, and I was out in the back yard hammock reading. I
wasn't ambitious enough to make the one-hour drive to the beach,
but I was wearing my red one-piece swimsuit. Sort of a
mini-vacation in my own back yard. Just me, my book, and drink,
and the cordless phone, which started ringing. It was Wendy.
"Hey, D," she said. "Whatcha doing?"
"Kicking back, reading... not much at all. Feels good," I said.
"Want to head over to Diane's for a swim? I'll pick you up."
"Heck yeah. When?"
"How soon can you be ready?"
"Pretty soon... what should I bring?"
"Just your swimsuit. She's got towels and everything," Wendy
said.
"In that case, I'm ready right now!"
"See you out front," she said.
I had been to Diane's before, but only at night, and never in
her pool. No doubt it would be pretty spectacular. Anyway, the
sun had gotten hot and I was really looking forward to cooling
off.
When I got back inside, the doorbell rang; Wendy was already
here. She must have called as she was pulling in the driveway.
"Mom, I'm going with Wendy to Diane's," I called out. Mom had
met them both and knew they were good people, so she had no
problem with me going. Next year in college, she really wouldn't
have any say.
Wendy was wearing a blue bikini top and a sarong wrapped around
her waist. "You're looking fine," I teased, sashaying out the
door.
"You're all set for the Olympic finals," she kidded back. True;
my suit was no-nonsense, with tank straps, low in the back but
high in the neck. Made for swimming instead of sunning on the
pool deck. Wearing something like Wendy had would turn more
heads my way, but it would be just us girls this afternoon.
And you know, I preferred my suit anyway. You wouldn't know it
just looking at me, but I used to be a big tomboy -- sports,
outdoor stuff -- and even now I still am, compared to Wendy and
the others. She'll sometimes call me that among friends, and I
pretend to be indignant, but I'm really not ashamed of it. The
red suit was functional, not flamboyant. It was me.
Sandra was already there when we arrived at Diane's, and they
greeted us with glasses of white wine. I wasn't used to drinking
wine without a meal; I sipped a little bit as she ushered us
through to the pool, and then put it aside. The pool was
gorgeous; the best I had ever seen outside of a tennis club or
resort. A high wall, veranda, and large deck with deluxe lounge
chairs rounded out the area.
The pool was just the right temperature: a little chilly until
you got used to it. Very refreshing. We all stayed in for a
little bit, then the other three dried off and laid out on the
lounge chairs.
I swam underwater, enjoying the respite from the world above,
almost like I had left it behind. The water must have been 10
feet deep at the end; I was very impressed. After a while, I
felt I could use some sun, and climbed out of the deep end. The
scene before me showed that there were a few things about my
friends I didn't know.
Wendy was asleep, or just resting her eyes, lying on her back.
Her bikini top was on the deck next to her, looking like a
spilled dark drink. We've been friends for years, and I had
never seen her topless. Her breasts were small, unlike mine, and
pert nipples pointed straight up. She had slight tanlines. I
hoped she had put on sunscreen.
Sandra was walking back from the kitchen with some water
bottles, and she was topless, too; wearing only her white bikini
bottoms. This seemed not one bit unusual to her.
"Oh, thank you," Diane said, taking a bottle. She was sitting
upright, and she was already nude. I had no idea she was into
this. She must have noticed me staring. "Denise, are you OK? It
looks like you saw a ghost!"
"Aren't you worried people will see you like that?" I stood
where I had climbed out, water dripping off me onto the deck.
Both neighbor houses had second-floor windows with a view.
"Not really. This whole neighborhood really values privacy.
That's why you have the gates and fences and big houses. Most of
the neighbors don't even know each other."
I toweled off and laid down. From our chairs, we had a great
view of the hills over the fence.
"It's pretty secluded," said Sandra. "Except for the high school
kid next door. He's looking out from between his curtains. I
think he has a crush on Diane."
"Ohmigod!" I cried, and Sandra laughed. "Just kidding," she
said. "Sorry about that. I guess you're not very adventurous,
are you?"
"I'm not chicken," I wanted to clarify. "I'm just not much for
being naked outside."
"Have you fooled around with guys yet?" she asked.
"A few times. But... I want it to be special. You know... not
just with anyone." I shrugged, unable to think of a really
succinct way of putting it. I wasn't entirely happy with this
line of questioning.
"Well, good for her," Diane announced, basically to the group
instead of just me. "I have a niece, only 13 years old, and she
wants to dress like Britney Spears already, with makeup,
miniskirt and crop top. That just seems way too young to be out
dressed like that."
This was a little funny to hear from a naked woman at poolside.
But I liked Diane a lot. She was just 3 years older than me, but
had a lot more wisdom than the rest of us. If I had a really
cool big sister, she would be like her.
Sandra had somewhat of an edge to her, sometimes stirring up
mischief, though I wouldn't say she was mean. It's just that
Diane looked out for people more.
And Wendy, she was a friend from way back, but I could feel us
drifting apart a little as we grew up. Going to different
colleges would change things unavoidable. She used to play
soccer with me, and we would go walking in the woods when either
one of us was feeling stressed. But she was standing up now, and
peeled off her bikini bottoms. She had either trimmed or waxed,
because her pubic hair was a thin strip. Naked, she sat back
down and started reading a paperback.
We stayed there throughout the afternoon, talking about various
things or just relaxing. At first I was trying not to be rude by
staring at their bodies, but ended up staring at their faces,
which also felt strange. None of us had much of a tan; in fact,
I hadn't been outside much until school let out.
Eventually the topic of what to do tonight came up, and none of
us had really made plans. Diane suggested that we go run our
suits through a quick wash, then go home and change, and go
downtown for dinner. That sounded great, and we went inside.
I wanted to find a bathroom to take off my suit, and wrap up in
my towel, but everyone else just went into the laundry area to
dump theirs in the washer. Sandra stepped out of her bottoms on
the patio steps and, like the others, just walked through the
house nude. I followed them into the room like a dummy, and then
there was really no place to go. I would feel silly walking over
to the bathroom and then walking back here naked anyway. So I
peeled off my suit in front of the washer and dropped it in.
"See?" said Diane. "Don't worry. You're just with us."
"She's pretty cute," said Sandra, grinning. Diane shot her a
quick stern look: don't tease. Sandy had the perfect body by
some standards: round bottom, toned and firm, well-proportioned
breasts; like out of a men's magazine. Wendy was thinner all
around, and Diane was sort of in between. Objectively, I was
closer to Sandy's body type, but I always wanted to be a little
thinner.
I wanted to get a towel, though. Even with my friends, inside,
where no one could see; even though they were all naked too; I
instinctively wanted to cover up.
The phone rang in the kitchen and Diane took the call. I
couldn't conceive of doing what she did, just standing against
the countertop, naked, with a huge sliding glass door and window
behind her. I would have felt like I was in a fishbowl.
"I wonder who it is?" Wendy whispered.
"Gotta be a boyfriend," Sandy said. "Look at the way she's
talking to him."
"If he had any idea there were four naked chicks here, he'd drop
the phone and drive over," Wendy joked.
Diane spoke animatedly, twirling her hair, laughing, sitting on
a barstool, then hopping off. She seemed to be much more
absorbed in the conversation than her surroundings. What
surprised us is when her free hand drifted to her pubic area and
then stayed there. Gently tapping and stroking, with the tips of
her fingers. Had she forgotten we were here? Wow! the things you
find out about people in their homes!
Maybe she had told him what she was wearing, or not wearing, and
their talk had taken an erotic turn. "Oh my god, look!" Sandy
whispered. It looked like Diane was about to insert a fingertip
inside. Then she saw us, glared at us, and turned away. We could
only see from the back, but it seemed like she was still doing
it. Now I was feeling a little uncomfortable. Was she mad at me?
Were we intruding? Should we go? Then Diane hung up and turned
toward us, smiling.
I guess she never stays upset for long. Or maybe it was the news
she had: Her boyfriend had a block of extra tickets to see
Aerosmith that night! All of us could go if we wanted. Well,
that settled our plans for the night in a hurry!
We would have to go pretty soon, though. Diane brought Sandy's
and Wendy's bags, and they changed into street clothes.
"Denise, you didn't bring clothes?" she said.
"Nope. All I have is in the wash!"
She thought for a second, and said, "I've got just the thing for
you." She brought me a huge white towel, even bigger than a
beach towel, lusciously soft and smelling fresh out of the
dryer. "You can wear this in the car, and we'll drop you off at
your house."
I wrapped it around me, and it covered from my shoulders almost
to my ankles; I had never seen a towel this big. And it felt
delicious against my skin. I demanded to know where it was from,
but she didn't know; her parents had purchased a set somewhere
abroad.
Wendy drove back alone to run a quick errand, and Sandy and I
rode in Diane's Mercedes. It was quite luxurious and roomy, and
with the towel it seemed like I was getting limo service to a
spa. Diane took another call, and this one was short. Afterward,
she asked if it was OK if we picked up two guys on the way. She
said I would know Rob, one of them. I didn't like that; the boys
would be sitting with me in the back, and I was still naked
under this towel. I asked if she could drop me off first.
"Actually, we're going over to Sandra's and then the concert.
It's on the way. Sandy has some clothes that should fit you." I
didn't want to be the wet blanket, so I went along with it. At
the house, I stayed in the car while Diane went to their front
door.
I recognized Rob from a few years ago; he seemed to have grown
up quite a bit. Terry was the other one, and he looked about 25.
Terry took the left seat, Rob the right, with me in the middle.
Terry offered a handshake and I had to maneuver an arm out of
the voluminous folds of towel protecting me. I could tell he was
wondering what I had on under the towel. Well, none of his
business. I didn't like him much already.
To put him aside, I talked to Rob instead, catching up on news
about some friends we had in common. He said he was going to
major in sports therapy. Sandy overheard this and said, "He
gives a greeeat shoulder massage. You ought to have him do you."
"No, no thanks," I said.
"It's pretty chaste," Rob said. "The goal is to loosen and
strengthen muscles around the neck and shoulders, not to seduce
a person. Teammates give them to each other, and you don't have
to have clothes off. I mean, you could leave the towel on."
"Oh, Rob, admit it," said Sandy. "The best massage is where the
woman is naked, you're naked, and you start with her tits." This
was a bawdy side of Sandy I hadn't seen. Diane tossed a lightly
scolding "Sandy!" her way.
Rob was getting a little defensive. "It's really not that way!
Denise, here, turn your back to me. If at any time it hurts or
you feel uncomfortable, just say stop."
I didn't want to look at Terry head-on, so I inched closer to
Rob and then faced diagonally, toward the driver's seat. He
started very gently, so that it almost felt that the towel
itself was doing the work.
After a while he added pressure, working with his thumbs and
palms, and I had to admit, doing a really good job. I didn't
realize how tight my muscles were, but I could feel them
relaxing under his touch. He never touched bare skin; he only
worked through the towel. I felt warm around my shoulders and
neck, just as if I were back in the sun.
Terry was talking with Sandy and had apparently lost interest in
what Rob was doing. That was nice; a little more privacy. I
would be happy with Rob continuing until we got to Sandy's
house. If I didn't fall asleep first; it was very cozy and
comfy. And I felt myself rationalizing that technically Rob was
a friend, and I knew he was a good guy, and I sure would like to
feel how the massage is on bare skin.
"Here, wait a minute," I said. I wriggled one arm out of the
towel and held it up while I freed the other. I leaned forward
and the towel drooped in the back, freeing my shoulders. I kept
it crossed over my breasts like a bandeau, or a wedding dress,
and folded my arms to keep it there.
"Okay," I said, and Rob resumed. His touch wasn't sexual at all,
but it was friendly, and it seemed to be doing me a world of
good. Terry saw me, raised his eyebrows, but then actually
blushed, said "sorry", and turned away. Maybe he wasn't a total
creep after all.
His fingertips on my bare skin spread warmth throughout me, and
I think I fell asleep very fast. It was like falling into warm
water. I was back in Diane's pool, and jetting underwater like a
minnow, enjoying the weightless feeling of being immersed. But I
didn't have my suit; I wasn't wearing anything at all. I came up
for air and then dove again, like a dolphin.
Somehow I knew what was happening above the surface. Diane was
leaning back in her lounge chair, talking on the phone, and she
was nude. Her left hand held the phone; her right hand caressed
her left breast, thumb teasing the nipple. This all seemed
normal, given what had happened earlier at her house.
Sandy, however, was also naked, and had piled what she could of
their bikinis to give her a place to kneel. She was leaning
forward and licking Diane between her legs. I kept swimming; it
was not time for me to come out yet. Soon Diane was no longer
able to continue the conversation and put the phone down. Her
body writhed, her breasts quivering, she gasped and moaned; and
she climaxed as I was swimming toward the ladder.
I climbed out, naked, but that was OK. We were all friends, none
of us wore anything, and we were sharing each other. Diane lay
sprawled on the lounge, exhausted, but smiling, and legs spread
in a very immodest manner. Sandy stood up, all bouyant breasts
and curved hips, and I felt this sudden strong attraction to
her, even though I had never felt any attraction for another
woman before.
Sandy walked toward me, with a warm smile, but then suddenly she
blinked into Rob, naked and hugely erect. This disturbed me, and
I turned away, walking toward the kitchen. Diane couldn't help,
Wendy wasn't there, and Sandy was gone. Suddenly Rob was behind
me, and with his quick kiss on my neck I stopped walking. His
penis poked into the small of my back. His hands cupped my
breasts. I still wasn't ready for this, right out in the open, I
didn't think of him this way, and --
I woke up, back in the car, and for a few confusing moments it
seemed like I was still in the dream. No, I was definitely in
Diane's car, with Sandy, Terry and Rob; but things had changed
while I was asleep. My hands, which had been holding up the
towel, were at my sides. The towel had fallen in front; what
used to be there now lay in a big snowy heap on my lap. My legs,
bared to above the knee, now rested on Terry's thighs; and oh my
god Rob was fonding my bare breasts. Terry had gotten over his
shyness and was staring openly. Rob was tweaking my nipples,
sending electric shivers up and down my body, and it was too
late to tell him to stop. I didn't want him to, anyway.
What I wanted to do is make out with him.
I wriggled closer, angling my face to his, and we started
kissing wetly, open-mouthed, tongues fighting. He kept kneading
my breasts, and heat was welling up inside me. He let one go and
his hand drifted farther down, over my belly and nudging under
the towel. For one last moment I asked myself, Denise, what are
you doing?, and then his finger found my vagina and pushed in. I
felt a slight chill there; Terry had unwrapped the towel around
me and now I was completely exposed. Terry fondled my legs and
bottom as Rob kept doing his thing.
The car slowed and turned in a driveway; we were at Sandy's
house. It was dark already. It was hard not to notice what Rob
and I had been doing, and I guess Sandy watched most of it.
"Let's wrap you up again so you can come in," she said. "I can't
believe that you wouldn't sunbathe nude, but you were OK with
this."
We stopped, and I tried to sit up. "I'm sorry, " I said.
"You shouldn't have let them do this," Diane said to Sandy. Then
to me: "Are you all right?"
I had to tell the truth. "I loved it."
I wrapped up in the towel and we went inside. Thankfully no one
was home. Sandy flipped on the lights and walked into a bedroom.
"Now, we need a good outfit for you," shouted Sandy from a
closet. "Ok, here we go."
It was just a gray skirt and light aqua knit top. "That's it?" I
asked. I felt cheated. I thought I was getting something
appropriate to wear. Or at least fun. This stuff was just blah.
"Put it on," said Sandy. "It'll make more sense when we're
done." I turned toward the bedroom to change, but she stopped
me. "Just do it right here. Nobody's seeing anything new."
Reluctantly I dropped my towel and stood nude before them. The
boys obviously appreciated having the show go on. Diane looked a
little conflicted, like she wanted this to stop but couldn't put
her foot down.
Sandy gave me the top and I pulled it over. The material was
thin and clingy, showing off my nipples. "Um, no, I don't think
so," I said. "Kinda cheap looking. No offense."
"Just try it," she said, giving me the skirt. This was some sort
of fleece fabric, like warmup pants. It came down to a few
inches above the knee. Sandy hadn't given me any underwear. I
shrugged my shoulders. Aside from showcasing my breasts, the
outfit was very bland and unattractive. I didn't get it. "Wait
right there," Sandy said.
She came back with a pair of fabric scissors. "This will be a
night you won't forget," she said. "Hold still." Reaching under
the skirt, she felt around to where the curve of my bottom
started, and then began to cut the skirt. When she was done, it
was less than half its original length. My jaw dropped. An inch
or so shorter, and I would be showing off parts of my bottom and
my pubic area. Sandy had cut it as close as she could. How could
I go to a concert like this?
"Sandy," Diane scolded. "You're taking advantage of her."
"And now for the top." At first I couldn't tell what she was
doing, making several cuts in back, along the sides, and below.
But when she was done, the knit top was converted to a
sleeveless, backless, sideless crop top. My breasts were covered
in front, but exposed on the sides. There was one thin strip of
cloth around my neck, and another around my back, just beneath
the shoulder blades. I looked to Diane for support, but this was
Sandy's show now. She made a few more trims and checked
sightlines. "OK, I think we're ready to go!"
In the car, Sandy told the boys "Don't touch her" and they left
me alone. I felt like I was nearly naked.
I was petrified as we walked into the arena, as if I were the
one going out on stage. I got enough catcalls and hoots that I
was glad I was in a group of friends. Once the concert started,
I felt a little better. The lights had come down, most people
were standing up watching the stage, and I was getting into the
groove of the music.
I couldn't see much, though. Two tall guys stood in front of me.
"Can we switch?" I shouted at Sandy over the thumping music. "I
can't see over these guys!"
Sandy pointed forward, at a wide, short wall in front of the
guys' row. In front of that was an aisle, and then more seats.
"See if you can stand there," she said. "Maybe the guys will
give you a lift."
I tapped one of the guys on the shoulder, mimed my request, and
he understood. He deftly grabbed me by the hips and easily
lifted me over.
This was great; this was a much better vantage point! I looked
back for the others, but it was hard to see them between the
guys; and they were watching the show anyway. When I turned
forward again, I tripped and fell backward. Before I could fall
too far, the guy on the right caught me; but how he caught me
was a problem. His hands were underneath my skirt, supporting my
bare bottom as he helped me get my balance. And when I was up
and swaying again to the music, he kept his hands there.
Somehow, this was OK; it seemed appropriate that during a
naughty song by a naughty band, a stranger might do a naughty
thing. For about two songs, he kept fondling me there,
supporting my butt as I swayed to the music. I knew I'd have to
decide what would happen next, but I kept putting that off.
Then he decided for me, moving one hand to the front and
fingering my pussy. Oh my, I didn't even know him; I didn't
really know what he looked like; and I was letting him do this
to me! Such a good feeling just surged through me.
A couple songs like this and I was sopping wet. I still didn't
turn back to face him. Then he let go, and I wondered if he had
decided he had gone far enough. You can only do so much before
you risk getting a girl sore, especially one you don't know. I
danced on my own for a minute or so.
But he wasn't done. With a hand at my lap and another on my
back, he guided me to lean forward a little bit; then he was
inside me for real. He had just needed time to unzip his pants.
He was huge and rock hard; and while I came a few times, he had
great staying power, lasting through at least three songs, his
big hands on my hips. Then he was done and pulled out, and
prodded me over to the left. In front of his friend.
This guy might have been seeing my breasts from the side for all
that time and couldn't wait to touch them. He reached in beneath
my crop top on both sides and took advantage of the easy access
Sandy had created with her scissors. I wondered how far I would
go with this, when was I planning to stop? I'd just had sex with
a stranger, and now it was starting up again! I writhed and
swayed, enjoying the song.
Oh, there was farther to go. I don't know if he had a knife, or
what, but he removed his hands from my breasts, then I felt two
quick snips, one at the thin strap of material around my lower
back, and one at the strip around my neck. With nothing to hold
it up, the top fell away. Thousands of people at this concert,
and I was topless, nearly naked; and I wouldn't be able to put
the top back on! If anyone was seeing me (and I knew some had to
be), there would be no doubt about what was going on. But I was
getting high on how dirty all this ways. I moved sinuously, like
an exotic dancer, while he moved his hands over my shoulders,
sides, and breasts.
Then he turned me around. He seemed an average looking guy,
though well built. His friend was sorta cute too, but not a hunk
either. My boobs, though, were apparently the best things he had
ever seen. I could see it in his face. He fondled them for a
while, and then drew me closer and started sucking them. Boy,
that felt good. I danced like that for a while, my hands on his
shoulders for support, as he nibbled and licked. Briefly I saw
Sandra in the row behind, and it looked like she was cheering me
on. Then I came, and my legs gave way and I collapsed in his
arms. I gave him a kiss, and then I stood back up.
He unzipped his pants. He was erect, and almost as big as his
friend. Even though I could have simply lifted my
micro-miniskirt, I decided instead to take it off, slowly
peeling it down as I danced. When it was off, I threw it away,
as far as I could. Wow, I was completely naked, surrounded by
hundreds of guys!
He picked me up and gently lowered me on top of him. His breath
smelled faintly of beer. Some say that a kiss can be even more
intimate than the sexual act, and I wanted to give myself up
completely. I embraced him as he supported my bare bottom while
thrusting into me. I sucked on his lips and forced my tongue
inside, tasting him. We were getting hotter and hotter and
everything was a blur --
I woke up in satin sheets. It was morning. I didn't smell of
beer, or smoke, or sweat; I must have taken a shower, even
though I didn't remember it. Everything was clean. This wasn't
my room, either. But I was still naked. Beside the bed was a
nightstand and table lamp, neither of which I recognized. Where
was I?
"Good morning, sleepyhead," Sandy said. She lay next to me, also
under the covers. "You slept like a log."
"Sandy, what's going on." I faced away; I didn't want to look at
her; didn't want to know. This was very strange. Just like the
dream last night where I had been attracted to her, then she
morphed into Rob.
"Don't worry, Denise. You're always worrying." She snuggled
close to me, spooning with me from behind. She didn't have
anything on either. She kissed the back of my neck, the most
sensitive spot, and I stirred. She kissed me there again, and
reflexively I nestled closer. "We called your mom" -- she kissed
me again -- "and said the concert" -- kiss -- "was late" -- kiss
-- "and you were sleeping over."
"What happened last night? What happened with me and you?"
My arms were sort of folded in front of my chest, and she moved
them apart. Every time she kissed the back of my neck I was more
aroused, and now she was fondling my breasts as well.
"Well, you certainly remember going to the concert..." ("uh
huh") "... and moving in front of those guys..." ("yeah") "...
and had sex with them both? I guess the outfit I made for you
wasn't sexy enough, because they took it off." ("I remember
that...") "So after you were done with them, you just danced
naked for a while. They did the encore, and you were still
dancing there, and then the lights came up.
"Security had to drape a jacket over you and escort you out. You
weren't drunk or high, so no charges were pressed. They figured
you just got out of control."
"Wow," I said. But Sandy was making me very horny and I couldn't
be counted on to say something intelligent.
"So we come back home and we decide we want to go clubbing. This
time I got you a real dress, a little black one, with a zipper
all the way down the back. The dare we set up for you was to go
on the dance floor, and find a girl dancing by herself. While
dancing with her, you would take off your dress and toss it over
to us. Then, while naked, you would keep dancing with her and
one by one take off every bit of clothing she had."
"That sounds impossible," I said plaintively. I rotated my hips
toward her, opening my legs slightly, and she took the offer.
"It's not impossible. You did it," Sandy said. "You found this
dark-skinned girl, maybe Brazilian, and you led her away from
her group. You were dancing close, and then you kissed her, and
she responded; then with one hand you were unzipping yourself.
That last inch you had trouble with, but pretty soon it was off.
I ran in to grab it before it got trampled on too much." She
stopped talking for a while, concentrating on kissing my
shoulders, fondling one breast and moving her middle finger
inside me.
"She was a little freaked by all this, but then you kissed her
again, big time, really passionate, and she stayed. You undid
her dress, and she was in little black bra and panties. You went
for the panties first. She actually took off her own bra
afterward.
"Security ushered us out, no surprise. Rob gave you his jacket,
but we hurried you to the car because you were still naked from
the waist down. You and Rob made out the entire way back, and
when we got to my house, you guys jumped on the couch and
fucked. Afterward, I sent everyone home, got you into the
shower, tucked you in, and let you go to sleep. And here you are
now."
"This is so weird, but feels so good," I said, responding to her
touch. "But why..." I couldn't even think of how to finish the
question. I couldn't even start to form the thought.
"Don't worry," Sandy said. "You haven't changed. It's just part
of you that has been awakened."
We stayed in bed like lazy bugs until about 1 pm, when I was
starving. Sandy dressed me in real clothes, took me to lunch,
and dropped me off at home. She even had a conversation with Mom
about the fun but relatively wholesome things we officially did
last night. If anyone ever asks.
What's really strange about the whole thing was that a week
later, Sandy had moved out. She didn't tell us anything; after
we couldn't reach her on the phone, we stopped by her house and
another family was moving in. She disappeared without a trace.
As for Rob and I... we were now a couple. Not just lust, or
fooling around, but real puppy love with flowers and cards and
dates and stuff. So I definitely held nothing against Sandy for
what had happened. It was because of her, and Diane, that we got
together.
I'll be back in later stories, so I won't tell you everything
that happened afterward. You'll find out when you get to it.
(Author's note: inspired by two vignettes in long-lost stories
"somewhere on the net": girl wearing only a towel, and guy
reaching under; and the rock concert. The coda of sorts ties
into another story in the Vaughn-Strickland thread.)