OPENING THE BOX (Part 7)


By KATZMAREK


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Disclaimer.


This is a work of erotic fiction. It remains the property of the
author and may not be reproduced for profit without the author's
express permission.


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As Summer wound on into new year in the Southern Hemisphere, the kids found more and more time to hang out down by the river. Justin had bought Angela a new swimsuit. They had gone shopping together and he'd insisted on checking out some of the ritzier boutiques. There she'd found the designer string thing that barely covered the illegal parts.


It was a swimsuit for the beach or riverbank, not for the water. It wouldn't last ten seconds in a river current or the surf. Justin enjoyed watching Angela parade around in it. She, in turn, liked Justin watching her also. She liked his smouldering sexy stare, it aroused her and made her feel possessed. She decided she liked the feeling.


For Angela, although only just 16, had never experienced such an intensity of emotion that she had with Justin. It was as if their egos had become completely merged. Normally her loss of emotional independence would create a claustrophobia. In this case, she had a feeling that somehow the heavenly bodies had all lined up for her benefit. It was not only meant to be, but inevitable.


Justin and Angela had found 'their' spot. One Friday night they had gone there to make love and had 'christened' the place. It was near a popular swimming spot where lots of kids from their school hung out. It was also well away from where they were likely to run into Chrissie Benmore.


Chrissie didn't like the big public places in any case. She also didn't care much for water. It suited Justin fine. 


She also didn't like clothes that drew attention to her big boobs. She much preferred baggy shapeless tops that disguised her assets. Many a boy had been 'burned off' after talking to her chest.


Her only exception was Justin, it had always been Justin since she was a little girl. She liked his attention, although he could be a little 'inappropriate' at times. She enjoyed accompanying him, usually to the movies, and walking down the street holding hands. He took her to fancy restaurants using his own credit card. It made her feel special.


They talked on the phone every day. *He'd* normally call *her* because he could afford the bill. She'd ask his advice, on school, on life. They never discussed Angela, though she knew he was still seeing her. They'd tiptoe around the subject before drifting onto something safer. Chrissie *knew* they were 'meant to be.' He only needed time to work Angela out of his system. Time, she reluctantly gave him because it was only a drop in the bucket compared to the rest of their lives.


She continued to deceive her Mother. Sharon remained adamantly opposed to any relationship between her daughter and Justin. It went beyond mere disapproval of her choice in boyfriends. Her Mother made it clear Chrissie was to have nothing at all to do with Justin. 'Nothing' meant, to see, hear or speak his name. Her mother had even gone to the extent of seducing him practically under her nose. To prove, apparently, just what a slut he really was.


Her Mother's implacability, however, had only sharpened her desire for him. Although not naturally rebellious, nevertheless she relished the intrigue and the danger of her 'secret' affair.


She *knew* him like no-one else, not even Angela, nor her Mother. Of this she was certain. He was no slut, merely obliging. Women could get him to do anything they wanted. Over time, she reasoned, she would cure him of this trait. Then they would have a life of wealth and privilege, tennis clubs and afternoon soiree's. The cloth, though, always threaded with love.


Angela and Justin lay on their tummys sunbathing. He'd spread lotion on her, his fingers wandering to her disapproving look. It didn't, however, bother her too much. She played 'slip a nip.' Whispering, 'hey' she'd flip out her tit quickly while Justin grinned. He'd play, 'slip a tip' in return, poking the head of his dick out from under the elastic of his trunks. They pushed and poked each other giggling like naughty children. To Angela, the day was going to be perfect.


For tonight Angela was going to be allowed to stay with Justin all night. Her parents had reached the stage where they thought they could trust this charming young man. He hadn't broken their rules during the dating of their daughter, had always been polite to them and almost become one of the family. They were realistic about Angela having sex with Justin. They weren't going to stop her so they might as well trust them and ensure they were safe. They considered themselves 'modern' parents.


Angela had long prepared what she'd planned to take in her overnight bag. She was excited over this 'new ground.' They were to share his bed together all night, have breakfast in bed, shower together. But above all they could make love as often and as long as they wanted without any pressure of time. All with her parents blessing. She couldn't be happier.


As the sun waned they packed up and made their way back to the car. On the way to Justin's, Angela rested her hand contentedly on his thigh. Leaning towards him she placed her cheek on his shoulder until it grew uncomfortable. He smiled and tickled her between the legs.


Dinner had been prepared and was waiting for them in the warmer. They sat at the large dining table, thigh to thigh and kissing between mouthfulls. The tension rapidly built up between them and by mutual agreement, grabbed their hot chocolates and ran up the stairs.


Their first bout of love-making was fast and furious. Anticipation had grown throughout the day for this moment and Justin was unusually desperate. They were naked and rolling around the bed within seconds of crashing, giggling through the door. Angela was well-ready to receive him almost immediately and he was a lot faster and rougher than usual. To her surprise, Angela loved it and came quickly and powerfully. She looked him squarely in the face when she came, as Justin liked, and called his name. She was rewarded by his spasming cock, his grunting and growling during his release.


"Oh come baby," she wailed, "fill me!"


She'd discovered that Justin liked her to cry things like that to him as he came. 


It was too perfect, she thought later as they cuddled and stroked. The only dark smudge in her life at the moment was Chrissie Benmore. She knew she'd have to deal with that 'problem' some time. But not yet, not tonight, she didn't want to spoil things.


Angela had that ability to ignore things she didn't want to have to deal with. Sometimes it worked and the issue faded. At other times the problem grew and threatened to overwhelm her. She was confident, however, that she always won out in the end.


She suspected for some time that Justin was seeing Chrissie on the side. There were too many clues for her to ignore. The Saturday nights that were 'his' time. He was always vague about what he did or where he went. Not so vague, however, was the gossip. His car had been seen here and there. Someone had seen him at the cinema with a girl that looked like Chrissie. They were holding hands, and so it went on.


It angered her when she heard such stories but she held her head up and told the informer she knew all about it. They were, she told them, just good friends who'd known each other since childhood. She let it slip that she thought Chrissie was gay anyway. Since no-one was aware of any of Chrissie's past boyfriends, the story caught on quickly. For the moment, her friends were satisfied with the explanation.


But Angela knew it was a lie. Her and Chrissie had been close friends once. Angela had moved away when she was ten, and Chrissie nine, as her family fortune increased and they could afford a nicer neighbourhood. She knew Chrissie had held a torch for Justin as a gawky kid.


She couldn't understand what Justin could see in Chrissie. Sure she had nice tits, but her arse was too large. Chrissie was 'nice', didn't date, was awkward around boys and made a fool of herself. She was shy and introverted. Angela couldn't accept that she was capable of pleasing Justin as well as she. Chrissie wasn't open, outgoing and anywhere as near sexy as her. As for her dress sense! It all didn't make sense!


In the early morning, Angela woke up beside Justin. He was sleeping peacefully and she listened to his measured breathing for a while. She was so in love with him it hurt. Yet although knowing every inch of his body, she'd yet to fathom his soul. There were little areas of his life which he'd cut her off from. At some level this increased her desire for him, but at another, it rankled.


She cuddled him possessively, kissed his nipple and played with his silky balls. Sighing, she rested her head in the crook of his arm and returned to sleep.


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Chrissie stayed home that night. Her Mother was in a foul mood all day and was drinking heavily. Too heavily for her daughter's liking. She snapped at everything Chrissie said or did, slumped in her big arm chair and lit cigarette after cigarette until the whole lounge stank.


Chrissie hid in her room, read or wrote in her diary. She wanted to ring Justin but knew he'd be with Angela. She was miserable and jotted down her feelings page after page.


Tomorrow evening Justin was going to take her to a new movie at the Rialto. Her Saturdays with him had become the central thing in her life. She didn't know what she would do without that. Her mother had become distant and moody, her friends had drifted on to boyfriends and no longer had the time to spend with her. Fridays for her were always an ordeal.


Sometimes she'd place a pillow between her legs and finger herself with Justin's face in her mind's eye. Tonight, however, she was too depressed to bother. Chrissie became aware of a soft knocking at her door. She put away her diary and called to her mother to come in.


Sharon was tearful and wanted to talk. She apologised for being foul with her earlier and said that things had just got on top of her lately. She hadn't had a decent commission in weeks and money was getting tight.


"I guess I'm lonely too," she told Chrissie, "you know it won't be long before you'll move away and then what?"


"You look great mum, when you go to the trouble," Chrissie told her, "there's lots of nice men out there..."


"Oh no there's not!" she snapped, "and what would you know?"  


Chrissie slumped in silence. Her mother put her arm around her and again apologised.


"They're either too old and desperate. Or too young and desperate!" she explained, "the nice ones are snapped up well before I hit the scene. Who's going to look at the milk when they can skim the cream?"


"Mum!" Chrissie protested.


"Oh it's true, Chrissie. I'm no longer a player in the market and I don't want to join a ballroom dancing club," she grinned ruefully. "Look I even steal your dream guy from under your nose. I'm sorry about that, love, but you needed to know what an arsehole he really is."


Chrissie boiled with the urge to defend Justin, but thought better of it. 'Methinks she protest too much' she heard ringing through her mind.


"Your father was the same," Sharon went on, "they're not family men, you see. That's what you need, someone who'll stay around and not... not fuck anything.. that's..." her Mother subsided.


Chrissie had adored her father. He'd left the house when she was just 13. At the back of her mind she knew it was all because of her. Her mother had not been able to deal with the close relationship her and her father'd had. That, she felt, was the *real* reason for the separation but she couldn't tell her mother.


There were some things that were never discussed in the household. This was the longest conversation she'd had with her mother about her dad since before he left.


"... That boy's no good, no good at all..." her mother rambled on, "Jus' like Frank he is. Charm, beauty, sexuality and such wonderful, wonderful hands..." she sighed, "could be his son... spitting image..."


"He's not!" Chrissie couldn't contain herself, "his father is, is..."


"Yes, I know! Some bloody hippie," she told her, "No, Frank wouldn't be so careless as to leave his progeny lying about. Far too careful... Still, got the same hands as Frank..." she mumbled.


Chrissie felt pangs of jealousy flick through her body. She didn't need reminding of that morning when she'd found her mother in bed with 'her' Justin.


"Nice dick too..." her mother went on, "... making that Angela happy I bet..."


"Mum!" this was becoming too much for Chrissie.


"So how are you and, whatever-his-name-is getting on?" her mother asked her.


"Who?"


"Whoever you've been sneaking off with on Saturday nights?"


"Um..." Chrissie hedged, thinking.


"You've been sleeping with him, haven't you? You know, you should always wash your own underwear if you want to keep secrets."


"Mum, I..."


"Oh go on," her mother laughed, "just be careful. Why don't you bring him back home? I'd prefer it if you did it here than in some bushes somewhere."


"I can't he's..."


"Shy?" her mother laughed, "doesn't want to face the girlfriend's mother after shagging her down by the river?" Sharon interrupted.


"Not yet," Chrissie replied, ignoring the comment, "it's too early, um."


"Ok, ok, I understand. When you're more settled, bring him home for me to check out. I promise I won't seduce him!" she laughed.


"You'd better not!" her daughter answered, acidly.


"Oh calm down. I was just kidding."


Chrissie, however, wasn't.


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Angela and Justin woke up within minutes of one another. They kissed and snuggled and cured Justin's morning hard-on. They were too tired to bother getting a condom, he was too smelly for her to take him in her mouth. Instead she gently jerked him with her hand until his cock spat into a tissue. 


"That wasn't much?" Angela commented, tossing the damp tissue into the wastepaper basket.


"I guess I'm a little drained," he smiled.


"Aw, poor baby! Did I tire you out? It had to happen sometime," she laughed. 


The night had been all that Angela had dreamt it would be. She tried to recount how many times they had made love. She wasn't sure whether it was 3 or 4. She couldn't decide whether the last time counted. Justin was spent so he got her off with his fingers. Would that qualify as making love? She couldn't make up her mind. If that qualified, she considered, then this morning would have to count also. In that case it was 5 and that was before breakfast. Who knows what's likely to happen before lunch?


"Breakfast or shower first?" she asked her lover.


"Shower I think," he replied.


Angela bounded from the bed. She'd been looking forward to taking a shower with Justin all week. She'd even brought her own fragrant shower gel. She anticipated that Justin would be good enough to eat all nicely lathered up and smelling sweet.


Justin watched her beautiful little arse as she retrieved her shower things from her bag. 'Damn, she'd even brought her own towel!' he thought, 'as if they didn't have any!' He did think, though, that it was kind of cute.


They had been in the shower a few minutes and had lathered each other up well with Angela's gel, when she broke down and began crying. Mystified and concerned, Justin consoled her as best he could, hugging her tightly against his chest. When she'd calmed down sufficiently, Justin asked her what was wrong.


"Nothing," she sobbed, "just happy. Very, very, happy..."


Later, they had breakfast in bed. Angela had put on her nightie, a diaphanous thing that revealed hints of bare boob underneath. He wasn't sure why she'd brought it, he didn't imagine they'd be wearing anything at all. He did think, though, she looked sexy; shower-flushed, hair damp and radiantly happy.


If Justin felt any guilt about cheating on her with her ex-best friend, he concealed it well. In fact, Justin wasn't sure how he felt anymore, about anything. Today he had a feeling as close to love as he'd felt at anytime in his young life. In the moment, the ethical dilemma seemed simple to solve. Afterwards, perhaps during a long conversation with Chrissie, the waters would grow murky once more. He just couldn't, or wouldn't make up his mind.


So he continued to steer clear of serious things he knew Angela would want to discuss. Things like, the future, their love and depth of feeling for one another, his Saturday nights and Chrissie Benmore.


She in turn didn't press him, fearful perhaps of what might be lost. She leaned against him and put her head on his shoulder. Brushing her scalp across the stubble of his cheek, she felt his hand circle her head and play with her hair. Her tears welled up once more and she reached for a tissue. Justin shrugged as she dabbed her eyes.


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Angela left about four. She'd become moody as the afternoon wore on. She insisted on walking and busing home. She told Justin she needed time to think. As she was about to go, she'd spun around and hugged him tightly. She'd looked him in the face and told him she loved him again, just in case he had any doubts. Justin watched her stroll down the street from the lounge window. Watched the fluid poetry of her faded jeans-covered arse as it swayed down towards the bus stop.


He'd a couple of hours to get ready before his date with Chrissie. He'd planned to grab a quick meal with her before catching the movie. Justin was suddenly torn between spending another day with Angela and calling off his date with Chrissie. He was concerned about her mood. It didn't last, however, beyond making the call to Chrissie's cellphone.


Chrissie was down also. They talked for about half an hour. She told him she was concerned about her mother, that she was depressed and drinking and smoking heavily. Chrissie wasn't sure what she should do. Her sister Vickie was away on holiday with her boyfriend. Normally she knew how to anchor her mother.


"So, how often does she get like that?" Justin asked.


"Not for a long time," Chrissie replied, "she gets a bit lonely sometimes and..." she tailed off.


"So, you want to call off tonight?" Justin asked, helpfully.


"No!" she snapped, "I... I need to get out... to see you," she pleaded.


"Sure, sure!" he replied, "can't wait!"


So off he went and picked up Chrissie at the usual place. She kissed him briefly and urged him to get going. She told him she feared her mother might one day follow her, out of curiosity. They ordered some takeaways at the drive-thru and had them at the riverbank car park.


Chrissie was quiet and sullen. She remained impassive as Justin pawed her hair. Eventually he gave up. Breathing deeply, she said, quietly,


"It bugs me, Justin."


"What?"


"Angela... and..."


"Oh," he mumbled.


He knew it was coming. The demand that he make a choice, the time that he most feared. He didn't think he could string her along much longer.


"You need to tell her, Justin," she continued, "I mean, I really understand, you know! You're obliging, want to please everybody, I know that! But you're not being fair to her, don't you see?"


"Yes," Justin mumbled.


He wanted the conversation to pass on.


"You need to be strong," she went on, "she'll understand, after a while. Her type just move on to someone else."


"Her type?" he asked.


"Y'know," she explained, "the 'popular' types. All they care about are clothes and whether their hair's all right. They just like to be seen with sexy guys, that's all. I guess it makes them feel ok."


"That doesn't sound like Angela," Justin commented.


"You forget, Justin, I knew her way back when. That sounds *exactly* like Angela."


"But that was years ago," Justin replied, "I think you're being judgemental. She's a lot deeper than that!"


"No she's not!" Chrissie bristled, "she's as shallow as a cake plate!"


Justin flashed angrily, but decided to let it go. He clearly wasn't going to win the argument without explaining some of his feelings for Angela. He didn't think that was a good idea at the moment.


The movie was deeply romantic. The American actors were universally pretty, young and fresh-faced-cool. Justin was a little bored unless the blond fox young starlet slunk through a scene. Chrissie squeezed his hand in caution whenever he perked up.


She was wearing jeans, rather than her usual skirt. When his hand strayed up her thigh she gently nudged it away. Clearly she wasn't in the mood for petting.


The lobby was crowded as they made their way out afterwards. A clutch of parents were waiting to pick up their children, tapping and looking around self-consciously. Justin put his arms around Chrissie's waist from behind and steered her towards the doors.


Outside in the city night, garish with neon and car lights, two figures moved from the shadows and pounced on the couple like cats. The first thing Justin knew was a head thrust rudely over his shoulder from behind him.


"You think I'm blind as well as stupid, Justin?" 


A powerful smell of scent, tobacco and alcohol blew into his face. The voice was chillingly familiar.


"I warned you, but you just couldn't help yourself!" the voice snarled.


Chrissie reacted first.


"MUM!" she spun, startled.


"Stay out of this you little slut. I'll deal with you later!" Sharon snapped at her daughter.


"Sharon!" came another voice, "you don't need..."


It was Frances. Of course Sharon couldn't have driven into town by herself. She was well over the limit.


All this flashed through Justin's mind with crystal clarity. His brain went into overdrive, running explanations through his bullshit filters to see which one would work. Meanwhile he shrunk back from the menace. Drunk as she was, he didn't know what Sharon would do. For all he knew, she could have a carving knife in her hand.


"Yes, take her away, Fran. I don't want to look at her right now."


"I'm not going anywhere!" protested Chrissie.


"C'mon, Christine," Frances urged kindly, "just for a little while. Until everyone calms down."


"You're just fucking jealous!!" she snarled at her mother.


Sharon started towards her, rage flaring behind her eyes. Frances pushed her body in between them and shoved Chrissie away.


"BECAUSE HE DOESN'T FUCKING WANT YOU," Chrissie continued, "HE NEVER WANTED YOU, YOU OLD BITCH!" she yelled.


People around them moved away, forming an impromptu ring for the spectacle. This was better than the movie!


Frances turned to control a raging Sharon, now advancing after Chrissie. Her daughter was backing away down the street, still hurling abuse. Justin was terrified and backed towards the crowd of onlookers. He was torn between standing by Chrissie and bolting, now the attention was off him.


"SO WHAT THE FUCK DO YOU KNOW?" Sharon screamed back at her daughter, "HOW MANY MEN HAVE YOU SCREWED, HMM? GO ON, WE'RE WAITING TO HEAR? TELL US ABOUT YOUR TASTE IN MEN?"


Tears were streaming down Chrissie's face.


"TELL EVERYONE ABOUT THE ARSEHOLES, CHRISSIE!" Sharon continued, "let me help you then, shall I?" her voice dropped menacingly.


Her voice carried clearly to the hushed crowd around them.


"NO!" Chrissie yelled, her voice filled with terror, "DON'T!"


"Her own father perhaps?" Sharon said coldly, "my husband?"


"NO!"


"My husband, who went through my friends, and their friends and their friend's friends like a hot knife through butter. A man who Chrissie would do anything for, isn't that right Chrissie? Even bleeding all over my sheets where they fucked like animals..."


"SHARON!" yelled Frances.


"...Then a boy who screws her best friend, her mother and *her* friends..."


Chrissie dropped to her knees, hands clutching her face, howling bitterly.


"So don't lecture me about men, Chrissie Benmore!" Sharon went on in the same tone of voice.


"SHARON!" Frances said sternly, "that's enough!"


She strode right up to Sharon and steered her back down the street. Justin had edged into the crowd. Those nearest to him eyed him curiously. Frances guided Sharon through only metres away. She was still muttering.


"She asked for it, the bitch," Justin plainly heard.


He looked towards where he'd last seen Chrissie, but she'd disappeared. Reeling from the event, he struck a moment of indecision before running off down the street after her.


He searched for for nearly half an hour before spotting her. She was slumped down next to a rubbish bin down an alley beside a restaurant. He might have missed her had she not brushed her shoe over the pea gravel. He then saw some movement and recognised her shoe in the afterglow of a nearby streetlight.


"Chrissie?" he said, tentatively.


"You came for me?" said a little voice, "can I go home now?" she asked.


"I, I think you'd better crash at my place," he told her kindly.


"Sure," she nodded, "that would be best. Can I stay in your room?"


"No problem," Justin assured her, "come on, it's dirty here!"


She let Justin guide her back to the car. Chrissie moved slowly and deliberately, as if mentally, emotionally and physically exhausted. Her speech was dreamy, as if talking in her sleep. Justin felt way out of his depth. She was clearly traumatised and he had no idea what to do. He folded her into the car seat and drove back to his house. He took off her jeans and tucked her into his bed. Getting in behind her, spooning her body, he tried to talk, but she was snoring contentedly.


He put his arms protectively over her body and nestled into the cascade of her hair. He joined her in sleep.


KATZMAREK (C)



