Deadly Chemistry
15 Hoosier Hysteria
THE NEXT WEEK, all the talk at our table and around the school was about prom and sectionals. I only half-listened to the conversation. Sarah had called me Sunday night. I kind of jabbered away because I was so happy to hear from her. She said that she could come by on her way home for spring break from Oberlin to film an episode with me. Wow! I hadn’t even contacted her. It turned out that Sam did. They’d been in touch several times and Sam had spent the past month convincing Sarah to participate.
“Sarah, I can’t help it. How’s Hannah?”
“I’m sorry, Brian. She’s doing okay from what Mom and Dad say. They think forcing her to separate from you all has helped her adjust to life in her new school. She’s… different, though. I think she’s fooling them, but I haven’t seen her since Christmas. She doesn’t even look the same. I’m worried, but I don’t know what to do. I hate my decision to come to Oberlin. At least if I was at UIndy or DePauw, I could see her more often. I might transfer at the end of the year.”
“You’re really the best big sister that anyone could ever hope for, Sarah. I’m so glad I’ll see you soon. I miss you as much as I do Hannah.”
“You haven’t listened all week,” Whitney said when we sat down to lunch on Thursday. She was sitting next to me and the next thing I felt was a tug at my shirt followed by two quick snips. I got that shirt for Christmas. I sort of wondered when she’d snip the loop.
“Sorry, Whitney. I’ve been a little preoccupied. Did I miss something important?”
“Everybody’s date plans for prom but yours,” she growled.
“Oh. I hadn’t thought about it. Uh…” I glanced at Rose and she shook her head. Samantha turned away from me.
“I told the prom committee I wouldn’t be there to take the focus off them. If I’m good, Dad’ll let me go to the senior prom,” Cassie sighed. “Sure hope I have a boyfriend who isn’t dense by then.”
“I don’t want to do the prom thing at all,” Liz said. “It’s too much pressure. Let’s do another girls’ night like we did for Valentine’s Day.”
“I’m with you,” Nikki said. “Just being at school makes me want to kill people. I’d be like that movie if I went to the prom.”
“Carrie?”
“That’s the one. She was so cool!”
“I guess I don’t know what I’ll do for Prom,” I said. I was sure Doug was taking both Rhiannon and Doreen and was equally sure that Carl would take both Brenda and Louise.
“All right, I’ve had it, you bastard!” Whitney exploded. She stood up. I thought she was storming away, but instead she started laying fairy loops on the table and counting them out. “One. Two. Three. Four.” She just kept going and going. “Eleven. Twelve. Thirteen.” Rhiannon reached across the table to her and Whitney laid the last one on the table. “Fourteen. I’ve been collecting these for six years. Now as undisputed fairy queen, I call upon the power of the fairy loops. Brian, ask me to the fucking prom, would you?”
“Whitney? Um… I’m sorry, honey. Do you really want the shortest guy you know to take you to the prom? I mean, will you go to the prom with me?”
“Yay!” Rose yelled.
“It’s about damn time,” Samantha added.
“Did we really have to get everybody out of circulation before you could get the message?” Brenda asked.
“Let me think about it,” Whitney said flatly. “I’ll let you know tomorrow. There’s this tall guy at Potawatomi who might ask me.” She scooped up her fourteen fairy loops and walked out of the cafeteria.
We played Potawatomi in the first game of the 3A Sectionals. I felt bad for the guys from Potawatomi. Nearly the whole school had gone to Indianapolis to watch their girls’ team play in the State finals. Even half their cheerleaders had gone to cheer Whitney and her team. I had a feeling the guys playing wanted to be there, too. They practically handed us the game. When we met afterward, we all told them we were cheering for their girls and they all knew Whitney used to play on our JV squad. They congratulated us on our win.
The evening game for the championship put us back against our old rivals, North Riley. We were pretty evenly matched, but the coach’s strategy of mixing long ball with layups paid off in the end. For the second time in three years, we were headed to regionals, only this time we all knew we wouldn’t be meeting Elkhart again. They were hosting the 4A Regional. It was pretty cool, though, that we’d get to host the Regionals this year.
Whitney hadn’t been in school on Friday so I still didn’t know the status of my prom date. Potawatomi had a big pep rally Friday morning, supposedly for both the girls’ and the boys’ teams. Of course, Whitney’s team got most of the attention. It paid off because by the time we’d become Sectional champions Saturday night, Whitney’s team had won the first State Championship in Potawatomi history.
I was dreading Monday lunch. I wasn’t sure what to expect from Whitney. She’d demanded that I ask her to the prom and then walked away without answering. And at our game Saturday, I’d met the tall guy who took her out a couple of weeks ago. I wanted to hate him, but he’s a really nice guy. I needed to make sure Whitney knew how much I cared for her, so I’d spent most of Sunday baking cookies and putting together a special offering for her.
When she got to our table I did a little presentation of her gift and got down on one knee in front of her.
“Whitney, I’m afraid I haven’t let you know often enough how much I love you. This has been such a weird year and then basketball got in the way for both of us and my stupid TV show ate up all my spare time. I want you to know, though, that I sincerely want to take you to the prom. In spite of that, I really want you to be happy and if you’ve found a guy that makes you happy at Potawatomi, then I’ll be happy that you are. Will you go to the prom with me?”
“Of course I will, you silly ass,” she said. Then she leaned close to my ear and whispered, “And I’ll be seventeen.”
Oh my God!
“You two! No contact! Don’t make me remind you,” Coach Hancock said when he walked into the exercise room where Whitney and I were working out. “Use the bags. I know you are still sparring when I’m not looking. Coach Mitchell would have my ears if I let you injure his new secret weapon before Regionals. And don’t forget the ropes. You climb before you finish.” He stalked out the door leaving Whitney and me staring at each other.
“Guess we’re not as clever as I thought we were,” Whitney sighed. “I haven’t really bruised you lately, though, have I?”
“Nothing that lasts more than a day,” I laughed. “And my ego. I really thought you might go out with that Center.”
“Jim is a nice guy and has been really supportive of the girls’ team. Even at Potawatomi there was resistance to giving an equal shot to girls. He rallied the boys’ team to support us. He told me he talked to you after the game Saturday.”
“Yeah. It was after I talked to him and realized he was a nice guy that I got worried.”
“He was a perfect gentleman on our date. I showed him the rules and he agreed to abide by them. But he’s a friend. Nothing more.”
“Whitney, do you think coach’s ban on contact includes kissing? If not, I’d like to give you a good one, right now.”
“I’m willing to risk it.” We kissed. It’s a strange feeling to kiss a girl standing up who is that much taller. My 5'6" to her 6'2", but it really wasn’t that difficult. And I really liked kissing her. It was going to be difficult to climb the rope in my current condition.
“You’re sure you won’t be embarrassed by being with such a short guy at the prom?”
“No. But I might be a little embarrassed if you drool between my breasts all evening.”
“I’m not that short! I’m usually able to drool on your collarbone.”
“Yeah. But I plan to wear high heels. And a very low-cut dress.” I kissed her again.
“You could wear a gunny sack and I’d still drool,” I confessed.
“Or a jersey.”
“Would you like to go out this weekend? I’m thinking maybe we could go do something fun Sunday afternoon. You know, I’ve never been bowling.”
“Really? An actual date without a special occasion or performing on your cooking show? With me?”
“Whitney, I mean it when I say I love you.”
“I love you, too, Brian. It’s a date.”
I had to go to Ms. Streeter’s class after school Friday to audition for the play. She had me read several passages and then called Dorothy Collins in to read with me. She kept having me read Henry Antrobus until I finally asked her if I could please not do a major role.
“I can’t prepare something that big. I’ve been going like crazy all year and I have this television show every week and basketball. I just can’t do it.” She sighed.
“I really wanted to use you as Henry,” she said. “But I understand.” She looked at me with a predatory grin. She wanted something else. “The State Forensics Meet is the weekend before Memorial Day. I’ll give you the part of the Stage Manager in Act III if you’ll agree to compete in poetry at the meet. You could even do more poems by ‘Nat Hart’ if you want. Just not the same poems. You know now what they’ll put you through. Agreed?” What did I get myself into?
“Agreed.”
At least on Saturday we didn’t have to travel and we were playing the second game in the afternoon. We were ready for the competition. Like us, these teams had already survived a Sectional tourney and there really aren’t any easy ones. Syracuse had risen with eight straight wins to close their season and we’d not met them yet. South Whitley had the highest scoring center in our division. And Warsaw just kept bulling their way through everyone they met. Until they met us in the second game that afternoon. We got a late start because the South Whitley-Syracuse game went into overtime and Syracuse finally won by a single point. That put us on the court to face Warsaw.
These guys were the epitome of Prime Hoosier Corn-fed Beef. It was like they moved the front line of the football team onto the basketball court after they’d finished mowing down their opponents on the gridiron. They were known to be pretty physical and we spent most of the first half trying to avoid contact. The thing was that they were good shots, too, and if you let them inside they’d score. They had a three-point lead going into halftime.
“Frost,” Coach Mitchell said when we were in the locker room. I looked up and he motioned me to him. Usually he just shouted out anything he wanted to say at the whole team. I wondered what I’d done. “Are you fit?” he asked quietly. “Any bruises I should know about?”
“I’m fit and not showing any bruises, Coach.” Where’s this going?
“Can you make foul shots?”
“Yessir.”
“Can you be a rock?” What the fuck? How did he…? Yeah, Coach Hancock knew Whitney’s and my code. It was reasonable he’d talk to Mitchell.
“Yes, sir. I am a rock.”
“I’m going to have you set picks. I want a little surprise for these thugs.”
I shuddered. I don’t think there was anyone on their team that outweighed me by less than fifty pounds.
The team went out and played with renewed vigor and we tied up the score and went one up on them. That’s when they started subtly getting rougher. They were driving through our defenders and blockading the boards. It was about five minutes into the third quarter that Coach sent me in.
“Be a rock.” That was all he said.
Josh gave me the inbound pass and I came down court with five fingers raised to call the play. Josh looked at me a little startled and I nodded to him. The defense was waiting for us at mid-court and we started moving the ball. Carl came up and I bounce-passed to him, drawing his defender off to try to intercept the ball. Carl snatched it away and fired it across to Josh. I stepped to the right of his defender to set the pick and Josh went for the basket. I was a rock. Whistles blew. I looked at my feet and there were skid-marks for nearly a foot beside me. I was a rock, but only a 160-pound rock. Damn that hurt. I sank two shots on the intentional foul and Josh had already scored.
They had a guard who was only about 5'10", but he was a bulldozer. We’d been jumping out of his way all afternoon to avoid injury, but this time when he drove for the basket he ran straight into me. I was knocked to the floor in the same position I’d been standing. I shook my head and took two shots on the charging foul.
Apparently, getting knocked on my ass woke the refs up. We had a pretty big cheering section and they were very vocal about the roughness on the court. More fouls got called. I got beat up a bit more before Warsaw realized they weren’t just going to muscle me out of the way. That gave the rest of our players some courage, too, and they started holding their positions. We started slowly pulling away.
We were down to the last half-minute of play and led by five. All we really had to do was run the shot clock down. Lionel gave me a signal I couldn’t believe. I glanced at Carl and he gave me a thumbs-up. Josh brought the ball across the center line and rocketed it to Carl. I ran for the basket. Nobody expected that. I hadn’t crossed the three-point line all night. I’m a short guard, right?
I jumped. The ball hit my hands at the same time Lionel’s hands grabbed my waist and gave me a boost. I slammed the ball home. The buzzer sounded as whistles started blowing. Even if they didn’t count my slam-dunk and gave Warsaw a technical foul shot, we won the game. Turned out that there was no rule against boosting a teammate. We won by seven.
We were laughing and glad-handing like crazy. Most of the guys hadn’t seen that shot since Lionel and I did it in seventh grade. We’d practiced it in our pickup games, though. It was impressive. I ended the game with twelve points. I hadn’t hit a single three-pointer but scored ten from the foul line and then the final shot. I pulled my shirt off and headed toward the shower when I heard a couple guys swear. They were looking at me. I looked down and saw the bruise on my shoulder. There was another on my hip. There was a kind of red welt across my chest. I wasn’t even sure how I got that one. I looked like I’d been in a car accident.
“Shit,” I said. Now that I saw them, I started to feel them as the adrenalin ebbed from my system.
“Frost,” Coach hollered. He handed me a second towel. “As soon as you shower, wrap and head for the training room. I want those looked at.” I didn’t take long in the shower. I just got the sweat out of my hair and pits and wrapped a towel around my waist. I was wondering if Coach would let me go home between games. I had arnica cream there and it would help if I could get some ice. When I walked into the training room, the refs and the official scorekeeper were there. They took one look at me and swore. I had to lift the towel enough to show them my hip. Apparently, I had another big bruise on my back from when I landed after the second foul. The refs left after snapping a couple Polaroids of me. The school nurse who was on duty poked around at me but said she didn’t think anything was broken. She looked in my eyes to make sure they’d focus, but I hadn’t really taken any hits to the head. When she was done, Coach pointed me toward the massage table and left the room. I lay down and sighed. Hands touched my back.
“You look like shit,” Whitney said.
“What are you doing?” I asked.
“Coach Hancock brought me in. I’ve got cream, but I bet Coach Mitchell won’t let you play tonight. You shouldn’t have gotten knocked around like that.”
“They were bigger than me. I couldn’t help it.” I sounded whiny even to myself.
“You were standing too tall. You need to lower your center of balance. That second guy would have been out of the game long ago if you’d met him in a crouch instead of standing up,” she said. “Geez, Brian, didn’t I teach you anything?” She slapped my butt and I rolled over. I hurt too much to get an erection and Whitney giggled about it. “I hope that’s working again sometime soon. I can’t believe you’re naked and I’m giving you a massage and you aren’t even aroused.”
“If I open my eyes and look at you, that will change,” I whispered. “I don’t think this is a good place, though.”
Chaos erupted when I left the locker room to join the rest of the team for dinner. Not just chaos with the team, there were fans out there and not all of them were ours or friendly. Three State Troopers were out there. I’d fallen asleep on the massage table after Whitney was through with me and Coach woke me up to get some food before we had to dress for the next game. I realized the consolation game must have already started so it was confusing to see all these people crowding the entrance from the gym.
Coach took me out through the class halls away from the gym accompanied by one of the troopers and told me I was through for the day and should go home. Mom and Dad were waiting for me and looked daggers at Coach. Whitney was waiting with them and kept assuring them I was okay. It appeared that she’d missed a bruise on my left cheek. Oh yeah. Now I remembered that elbow.
It seems the refs had taken the photos straight to the visitor’s locker room and started in on the coaches. The scorekeeper had the official sheet recording each point and each foul. The refs were joined by the other two refs for the tournament and all agreed that four Warsaw players would be ejected from the following game. The coaches objected. When it came time for the consolation game, Warsaw refused to take the floor. The refs gave them five minutes and then awarded the game to South Whitley as a no-show. A near-riot broke out. In addition to the State Troopers I saw at the locker room, there were three more in the gym with half a dozen sheriff’s deputies. Once I was gone, the focus of everyone’s rage kind of died and the police cleared the gym, readmitting only the fans of Syracuse and St. Joe Valley.
My teammates did themselves proud, but the truth was that Syracuse had left everything on the court during their first game and just didn’t have enough left to match us. I got a call after the game that we’d won. Half an hour later, my girlfriends started arriving. It wasn’t the guys this time like when we got together after Whitney’s tourney.
Whitney hadn’t left my side since I left the gym and we’d gone to a Chinese restaurant downtown to get food with Mom and Dad. When we got home, Sam and Liz were already there. Brenda, Sora, and Rhiannon came in together. Cassie arrived with Rose. Nikki came alone and last. She hadn’t been at the game—too many people. Liz called her. Those two seemed to be getting to be friends. There was a knock on the door after we’d all gone upstairs and Doreen joined us. I had all my girls except Jen and Court. Each one wanted to examine my bruises and had me stripped to my briefs pretty quickly.
“He shouldn’t have done that to you,” Brenda declared. She kissed me tenderly and stepped away.
“Obviously. That’s why the refs ejected him.”
“I mean Coach Mitchell. He should have had Carl taking those blows. Or Doug or Lionel. Even Josh and Bert and Phil. It’s stupid to put the smallest guy on the court in danger like that.”
“He knew I could take it.”
“No, he didn’t,” Whitney broke in. “All he knew was what Coach Hancock told him. He had no idea if it was true. He figured he could get you knocked out and the refs would step in earlier.”
“We can’t know what he really thought,” Sora said, stepping up to me. She gave me a deep kiss that I responded to and standing in front of all my girlfriends in just my briefs suddenly became a little uncomfortable. “But he still shouldn’t have put you in danger.”
One by one, each of the girls approached me and kissed me. Nikki was a little shy, but actually touched her lips to mine while carefully avoiding touching my erection. Normally reserved Cassie was definitely not shy. She gave me a kiss that was absolutely brimming with intent while blatantly rubbing herself against my cock. She held onto me hard as she caught her breath and looked me in the eye.
“I’ll see you in school Monday,” she whispered. “I have to go home now and masturbate.” She headed for the stairs and that started a general exodus. All my girlfriends weren’t staying the night. That was kind of a relief as I was still pretty sore and a few of the hugs I got really hurt. It was obvious that Whitney was not planning to leave, but I was surprised when Sora hung around.
“Can I share, tonight, Whitney?” she asked. “I won’t do anything. I just want to be with you.”
“Sora,” Whitney said softly. She put her hands on the small Asian’s shoulders. “I don’t know what’s going on with you and how things are working exactly, but Brian knows and that’s enough for me. The only thing is that if you want to sleep with him tonight, you have to do it the same way he and I will—naked. If you’re okay with that, let’s brush our teeth and go to bed.” Sora grinned.
“I didn’t bring any clothes with me anyway,” she shrugged. “Didn’t think about that!”
I woke at my usual time and started talking in my head to Hannah before I even realized I had a naked girl cuddled up to me on either side.
Wow. How did this happen?— You’re right, honey. I don’t deserve you.— But I still love you. How can I be so crazy in love with you and so content to let a dozen different girls be my lovers?— No, you’d never be content with that, would you? Or would you?— I know you love Samantha as much as she loves you. I think you might love Jen and Court that much, even though all you’ve ever shared is a kiss. At least all I know of. Did you make love to the girls?— Of course. I won’t ask. Why is it that every morning I wake up at our special time together and talk to you? Can you hear me? Are you awake and listening as I send you my love? Why did they pull us away from each other? Can’t anyone tell me why?
I drifted back to sleep.
I was surprised when Whitney asked Sora to join us on our bowling date. Sora was enthusiastic.
“Do you want to invite Geoff, too?” Whitney asked. Sora sighed.
“He’s out of town. Had to go to Shipshewana or something. I’m sure he’ll be back tonight.”
We walked into the bowling alley and got a lane, shoes, and went through the process of choosing a ball without getting our fingers stuck. There was a guy there who talked to us about what to look for in a ball and told us to ask him if we had any questions. We didn’t really have to learn how to keep score because they had some new automated scoring system that put our names right up there in lights for everyone to see. Sora, of course, had been bowling many times and helped Whitney and me get the basics down.
“Are there a bunch of secret rules in bowling like there are in miniature golf?” I asked Sora. Whitney looked puzzled.
“Hasn’t he ever taken you miniature golfing?” Sora asked.
“No.”
“Brian!”
“I… wasn’t sure I’d remember all the rules and then the summer was here and gone and there was no time. I need a refresher course.”
“As soon as they open up the courses, you’ll get one,” Sora said.
“About special rules in bowling?” I asked.
“None that I know of, but we could make some up if you want to. How about if anyone who gets a strike gets a kiss from whomever she’d like?” That was pretty risky for Sora. She’d told me in no uncertain terms that she wasn’t really interested in girls. Whitney grinned.
“Wonder who is going to collect all those,” she said.
After six straight gutter balls, Sora took mercy on me. Whitney had already managed to knock down six pins in three frames and Sora was sporting a score of 35. My rolls all looked like they were going straight at the pins, then they’d suddenly curve over and drop in the left gutter. When Whitney rolled her first ball it took forever to get to the end of the alley. She stood at the foul line puffing and blowing down the alley to encourage the ball to keep rolling. Sora laughed that maybe they’d have to put out the bumpers for us. Finally, she told me to stop aiming at the pins. She pointed out seven little arrows on the floor about fifteen feet down the alley and told me to aim at the second one on the right. I did what she said and only missed it by a few inches. This time I thought the ball was going to hit way down the right side, but it hooked and took out four pins on the left. Whitney took the instruction and hit the pins right smack in the middle of the front pin. I was sure she was going to be collecting the first kiss, but she left two pins in each corner standing. Sora told her where to roll the ball this time and she knocked down the two pins on the left. Well, that was better than I’d done. My second ball had gone to exactly the same place as the first only this time there were no pins there to knock over.
We were in the eighth frame when Sora rolled her first strike. She sashayed right up to me and laid a powerful kiss on me. I swear that if she kissed Geoff like that he’d have to pop a woody. Intellectually, I understood that he just wasn’t wired that way. Physically, my body couldn’t imagine having a sexy girl like Sora kiss you and not getting turned on if you were male or female. Then I had to think that if Geoff could get turned on because Sora was such a good kisser, did it follow that Geoff might be such a good kisser he could turn me on? Oh, yuck. I guess the old adage was right. If you think homosexuality is a choice, try choosing it.
We played a second game and by some unexplained miracle, I got a strike in the fourth frame. I ignored Sora and gave Whitney my best. She smiled at me, stepped up to the line and threw a slow-moving strike of her own. I was ready for another kiss when Whitney turned to Sora and crooked her finger at her. Sora looked like she was going to panic.
“I guess I suggested the rule,” Sora said. Then she yielded and Whitney kissed her softly, not trying to invade her mouth. Sora breathed a sigh of relief. All I knew for sure was that we were not using that rule if we ever played with Geoff. Shit! Or any of the guys.
When we finished playing, and Sora had soundly trounced us with no more strikes on anyone’s part, we stopped for a burger and fries and then Sora went on home, thanking us for a very nice afternoon.
“I think I’d better put some more arnica on your bruises,” Whitney said. We heard Mom and Dad in the family room watching a movie and yelled hi, then went upstairs. I undressed and lay on the bed. Whitney gave me a little massage and worked the cream gently into my bruises. A couple were pretty tender. She had me roll over.
“Whitney, you’re naked.” I said. I hadn’t realized that she undressed while I lay on my stomach.
“Yeah. It’s amazing. It’s a lot easier to do now than it used to be.” She rubbed the cream into the bruise on my chest and I gradually hardened as I looked at her sweet little tits and the trimmed but dark bush between her legs. “I always thought you’d never want to see me naked. Then there was the time you first put the salve on my bruises. I was scared, but you were so gentle and caring and you gave me confidence. That party at Brenda’s where we all got you to put suntan lotion on us and then ended up naked in Brenda’s basement was what really changed things, though. All the girls, even Cassie, bared themselves to you and to each other and I realized you loved us all whether we had big boobs or little ones and no matter what shape our nipples were or how puffy or hairy our pussies. Getting undressed with you last night was easy and today my clothes just sort of fell off like they didn’t want to be on me. And…” She reached to my nightstand and grabbed my massage oil. “I want to be completely comfortable naked with you. May I touch you, Brian?” Well, she’d been touching me, but I got that she wanted to touch my cock.
“Yes, sweetheart. May I touch you?”
“In a minute. For now, I just want to explore you.” She oiled her hands and began massaging my cock while I watched her. She was intent on what she was doing and truly explored me. She dribbled oil on my balls and it ran down my crack. She didn’t hesitate to explore there, too, massaging my asshole and gently caressing my balls. It wasn’t really what she was touching, but how she was touching. And that she was touching at all.
“Honey, I won’t be able to hold back much longer.”
“Don’t. Tell me what you like, Brian, and let me hold you while you come.”
“What you are doing is so good. I love the way you’re touching me.” I loved it so much that the first spurt went wild off the bed. Whitney got her body over the next spurt so it hit her in the chest. Then they slowed, dribbling over her hand and onto my stomach.
“Amazing.” She kept stroking. I wasn’t getting soft, but it was too sensitive to keep being touched.
“Darling, please let me recover a minute. I get really sensitive after I come and it’s too much.” She stopped stroking but didn’t let go. She just held me and I started to soften.
“I want to do that again,” she whispered. “I don’t mean right now, but I want to watch you come again and think about what it will feel like when you’re finally inside me. You can touch me now, Brian. Please, touch me.”
The Semi-State Tournament was plain weird. Thanks to dividing up all the schools in the State into four classes, there weren’t enough schools in any class to have a sweet sixteen. So, in each of the four semi-state competitions, there were only two teams from each class. There was only one game for each and then the winners all went to the finals next week. One and done. Losers went home. We figured there’d be a new system for the tournaments next year. Our game was the first evening game at five o’clock, the Class A and AA having been decided earlier in the day. And we were facing the dreaded Concord Minutemen.
Concord didn’t try to muscle us around, so with much relief, I wasn’t called on to be a human rock. Concord played to win using just plain incredible basketball skill. We’d fallen to them earlier in the season and the guys were determined to give them all the game we had. And we did. We used all of our tricks except my slam-dunk. Concord played us and adapted to us. We switched back and forth between man-to-man and zone defense. They changed their offense to match. We mixed long-ball with layups and they were right there to guard and rebound. They didn’t run away from us, but they outplayed us by just enough to claim a solid victory. We’d given it all we could. We didn’t stick around for the Class 4A game. We showered up and headed home. All the JV team and cheerleaders got to ride the team bus with us, so I had a great time cuddling with Rose on the long drive back home.
We got back early enough that Rose and I got a soda and then went out and parked for a while. My strategy was to torment her and she—like the Concord basketball team—adapted to my method of play and teased me right back. She pulled her cheer sweater off but wouldn’t let me release her bra. I traced a line up her leg and under her skirt with my fingers only to glide over the top of her mound and down the other side. When I walked her to her door we kissed fervently. She pulled my hand under her sweater and I found her breasts swinging free. She clamped a hand on my dick as I caressed her and we broke away from each other with a desperate longing in our eyes.
“I’ll call you in the morning,” I whispered. “Be ready. And remember, not until then.”
I’d written a new little story, trying out a different style. Carl, with his never-ending supply of porn, had slipped me a Victorian novel by Anonymous. Man, those guys could write about sex! I decided to try my hand at it. In the morning, I called Rose.
My Dearest, Darling Rose,
I could not sleep until I had penned this missive reliving the events of last night. Never had I dreamed to be in such favor in your eyes. I am forever and eternally slave to your desires.
When I called for dinner and found you in formal dinner attire my ardor wilted. You took my top hat and seated me at the end of the table opposite you. Simply counting the number of buttons securing the armor across your breast was a task beyond my reckoning. Though separated by only a short table and two candlesticks, I felt as though there was a vast chasm between you and my desires.
We had taken our entrée of oysters on the half shell before I first noticed something amiss. A small gap had appeared in the bodice of your gown directly between the glorious peaks. I sipped the Chablis, willing my eyes not to focus on that widening gap for as I glanced over the Soup a la Reine the gap had widened. I fumbled with the sardines, leaning forward to serve you and to my shock seeing only flesh where I expected a sturdy corset. I sipped my sherry mumbling incomprehensible words of compliment to the cook as my mind struggled to interpret what I was seeing.
The Lobster Newburg on toast points was truly exquisite and I am quite an aficionado of cucumber salads. Somehow as I was savoring the Sauvignon Blanc another of your buttons had parted from its mate and there was easily room for me to thrust three fingers through the gap to caress your flesh if only I could reach it. All this time you continued your delightful recounting of the day and a humorous anecdote about your cousin. I wondered that the servers had not mentioned the failure of your attire to conceal all your charms.
Sometime during the Beef Collops au Bordelaise two more buttons parted company with their closures and the front of your gown was held by only two closures at your throat and presumably less stressed buttons at your waist. After dining on the excellent Collops, buttered green beans, and pilaf, some of my own waist buttons were stressed. I was certain, however, that the buttons of my trousers would not hold when you laughed and the second button below your elegant throat parted. The gap now was easily wide enough to insert my hand had I been seated next to you rather than across this blasted table. I drank the claret to steady my nerves but the applesauce went untouched.
There was a great deal of bustle around the table as your two maids cleared the kickshaws and swept the crumbs from before us. It was during this chaos that I felt your foot slide beneath my trouser leg and glide along my stocking. My salad went all but untouched as I was mesmerized by the movement of your bosom, now so easily detectable with each breath you took. I fumbled with the Stilton and crackers, so excellently complemented by the sauterne.
Dessert was my undoing. Your steward poured our champagne. I confess to a moment’s jealousy to think that he could see his mistress in the state of your clothing, but he went about his business as if nothing were amiss. You raised your glass to toast our burgeoning friendship and growing interest in each other. Then taking a strawberry from the bowl, set only in front of you, you rolled it in confectioner’s sugar and leaned across the table to offer the delicacy to my waiting lips. This move proved to be too much for the last fastening of your dress and the neck sprang open leaving smooth, round slopes of your breasts exposed to my lustful eye. “Oh dear,” you said, as if a crumb had dropped from your fork. Then you rolled another berry and savored it, licking the sugar with your tongue before sucking the fruit into your mouth.
Only another fraction and the color on your breast from which you take your name would be exposed.
“Marie, we’ll take coffee in my retiring room,” you said softly. “Shall we retire, Mr. Frost?” You held your hand out to me. I took it, and as I stood, you rose from your chair. Your costume did not rise with you and you released my hand to shake loose the last sleeve. You took my arm and then ascended the stairs ahead of me, clad only in your white silk stockings. I followed your pert derriere as I ascended toward paradise.
Coffee was already steaming in demitasse on the small table by your bed. A compote was piled with chocolate truffles. You rang a bell and your chamber maid appeared. Alas, I feared she would robe you and I would lose forever the vision of beauty before me. Instead, as you poured cognac, the dear sweet girl divested me of my garments quietly and efficiently, pausing only long enough to be sure I stood at attention before you. You beckoned me to sit beside you and handed me my steaming coffee and placed a chocolate between my lips. Once the chocolate was gone, your hand slid down my torso and softly engaged my phallus. With your other hand, you sipped your own coffee and for the first time I allowed myself to touch your alabaster skin.
With trembling hand, I set my coffee on the table beside yours and cupped your breast. Our lips came together and we both sighed as we accepted fully our position—naked and on your bed. I laid you back against your pillows and kissed you passionately, your tongue communicating without words that I would be your one true love tonight. When we had sated our lips, you pushed at me and thinking I was no longer wanted, I drew back.
That is when I saw the truffle melting between the mounds of your marvelous mammaries. I dipped my head to lick the chocolate that ran from the heat of your body and you plucked the truffle and spread a trail around and over your peaks that I followed with my tongue. Having scoured your nipples for any trace of chocolate, I caught the trail again and followed it to the hollow of your navel. I bathed it with my tongue and you tensed, a soft moan coming from your parted lips. I lifted myself to quickly kiss them but you were not finished with this game. While I kissed you, you had continued the trail from your navel to the Delta of Venus where the remains of the truffle lay lodged between your nether lips.
Ever your obedient servant, I cleaned the trail to the hot lava at the core of your being and so thoroughly sought every trace that you cried out in ecstasy not once or twice, but three times. As you recovered from your hysteria I moved between your legs and you gripped my shaft to guide me to your holy sanctuary.
I am no novice at the arts of love, having plumbed those depths with willing partners before. But never had I experienced the liquid passion that welcomed me to the home I had always sought. As I rose to my own fulfillment, your passions ascended yet higher, welcoming me verbally and physically to claim you for my own. Our lips came together with tongues fully engaged as my rampant member plundered your depths in search of its release. Your stocking-clad heels beat a tattoo on my buttocks as I thrust and thrust again. Deep within my being I felt the floodgates open and I unleashed a torrent deep within you. I cried out. You cried louder. Not only our bodies, but our spirits were joined.
My dearest Rose, you are my heart’s desire. I live only to serve you and to relive forever this moment of our joining.
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