Deadly Chemistry
16 Tattoo
IF I THOUGHT the end of basketball season would mean my schedule would start to relax, I was sadly mistaken. It was a relief to have a break from filming as I’d managed to get ahead over mid-winter break, but as soon as there was no more basketball practice, play rehearsals started. I only appeared as the stage manager in the third act, but the first week Ms. Streeter wanted the whole cast together as we did read-throughs. After four days of rehearsal, I still couldn’t figure out what the play was about. I was going to have a long talk with Elaine sometime soon.
Added to that, the professor in Nikki’s and my English Comp class at IU decided that she hadn’t covered enough material to stay on schedule and we had a two-to-five-page paper due every Tuesday. Having the computer was turning out to be a big benefit in preparing the volume of homework I had, though the professor had remarked that she didn’t like the printouts and would prefer that our papers be typewritten. Nikki, of course, managed to talk her parents into getting her a much more expensive version of my little Mac and a laser printer. The prof grudgingly told us the print quality was acceptable. Each Monday, I gave Nikki a floppy disk with my paper for the week on it and she printed it. We rode to class together Tuesday evenings.
Nikki and I were becoming really good friends and I was determined to do something special for her when she demoed with me on the eighth of April. This was going to take some serious preparation. We talked a lot about English and writing while we were together and I could see she had a real passion for words. She constantly challenged my vocabulary and even drilled me on spelling things correctly. I was glad on more than one occasion that she’d proofread my paper before she printed it.
“Let’s get physical, physical. I want to get physical,” Whitney sang to me as we worked out on a Wednesday morning before school. We’d move back outside for our sparring at home, but we’d been limited while working out at school. We both wore pads, helmets, and gloves whenever we sparred under Coach Hancock’s observation. Whitney’s song was punctuated by a roundhouse kick that almost took my head off. There wasn’t time for cute words after that. She put on a press that took all my energy to defend against. I managed to return a few blows as well. There were times when the world disappeared and all that existed was the violent dance the two of us were engaged in. And violent as it was, it was also building intimacy between us. As we sparred, we locked eyes and learned to anticipate each other’s moves, sometimes defending and sometimes attacking.
Coach’s whistle pierced through our consciousness and we parted and bowed to each other.
“Time to hit the showers. You two should do a demo for the school. No one would believe me if I told them what I watch each morning,” he said.
“No, Coach,” Whitney said firmly. “I don’t even like doing this in front of you. The fewer people who know what we are capable of, the less we’ll be challenged and the more effective we will be if we are. And if I may say so, sir, I don’t want to have foreplay in front of the whole school.” Whitney walked off to the shower and Coach and I stared after her with our mouths open.
“Foreplay?” I asked when we came out of the locker rooms and met to go to class. “You said ‘foreplay’ to Coach?”
Whitney didn’t answer. She turned to me and bent to kiss me. We’d been practicing a lot lately. Kissing that is. We both knew that Whitney would be seventeen in a month and we were both preparing to make love. I kind of had a twinge of sympathy for what my sister went through before she got married. We didn’t know the exact night we were going to lose our virginity yet, but we both knew it was fast approaching. In addition to our workouts, Whitney and I had been spending quality time with each other every weekend. Usually, she’d hang around for a while after our study group on Saturday and we’d go to the barn to make out. It was funny in a way. After an hour kissing and fondling each other and talking about what we liked and didn’t like, we’d separate and often go out with one or more others in our group. I found that I was frequently taking two girls at a time on dates Saturday night.
“I suppose you want me in some kind of little homemaker dress Saturday,” Nikki sighed. “I don’t know if I can do this, Brian. Everyone will see me.”
“I don’t want you in a homemaker dress, Nikki. I want you to be you. Just school clothes. Look what I got myself. I’m going to wear it through the whole show.” I pulled the black beret out of my bag and placed it jauntily on my head. Nikki frowned at me and shook her head.
“No good. Pick me up early for class tonight. We have a stop to make.” Shit! I thought she’d like my effort to match her style.
I picked her up at five, thinking we’d be able to grab a bite to eat before class. We did that sometimes. Instead, she directed me to an army surplus store. We went down rows of military paraphernalia that included everything from uniforms to backpacks to knives and guns. Nikki knew the guy behind the counter and he took us directly to his collection of formed and unformed military berets.
“We want unformed. We won’t use the military look. We’re guerillas.”
“Another protest, Nicolette? You’re going to get in trouble one of these days. Who’s the new recruit?” the guy asked.
“Boyfriend.” The guy was surprised.
“I’d never have thought…” He led us to a box full of berets. “Here’s what you want. Basic black, unformed, but shaved.” He looked at me critically. “Short, ain’t he?”
“Just get us matching black T-shirts and camo jackets,” Nikki said as she started pawing through the box of berets. I couldn’t tell the difference from one to another, but the difference between these berets and the one I’d bought at Penney’s was obvious. Mine looked like a sissy hat. These were serious. She handed me one and then pulled another out for herself. I watched how she put it on and copied her. She made a couple corrections and I looked in a mirror. Dang! This looks sharp! The guy brought a couple T-shirts and jackets to us and motioned me to a dressing room. Apparently, he knew the sizes for Nikki.
The shirt was a little tight. He got me a small. I usually wear a medium.
“Hmm. I didn’t peg you to have so much muscle under that oxford,” he said when I came out. “I’d better get you a bigger shirt.”
“Are you kidding?” Nikki asked. “Look at those pecs and abs. If I was doing a video, I’d rip the shirt high enough that his stomach was bare.” She laughed and I looked at her in shock. She dragged me to the counter and paid with a credit card.
“Nikki, you don’t have to buy me clothes.” I could write a check to cover this. It wasn’t that expensive.
“Considering the fact that I’m still thinking of ripping that shirt off of you, I’ll pay for it,” she snickered.
What the hell got into her all of a sudden?
Most of my friends thought I had a pretty easy gig to make a lot of money for doing a fifteen-minute cooking demo once a week. Even when they discovered that we averaged three to four hours of studio time for each segment, they still figured that was fifty or sixty bucks an hour. The truth was that I spent at least an hour on the phone with Miss Polly and Harvey each week as we planned out the menu and demo. I didn’t just have a free rein to do whatever I wanted. They had to approve the menu and the concept for the demo and Miss Polly wanted to be prepared for the type of guest I would have so she could ask appropriate questions while we cooked. When I explained what I wanted with Nikki and why, they were hesitant, but when Mr. Duval went in to sign the release for Nikki to be on the show, he nodded and said it sounded like the only way to get his daughter on set. Mrs. Duval rolled her eyes.
Nikki and I had a blast.
Me: This is my girlfriend, X.
Miss P: That is an unusual name, Brian. X?
Me: X is a revolutionary and we want to protect her real identity.
Miss P: It’s nice to meet you, X. The camouflage paint on your face should serve to keep your identity a secret. Brian, what are we cooking today?
Me: Revolutionary food, Miss Polly. You see, X is a vegetarian.
Miss P: Oh. That would limit what we can serve.
Me: When my sister got married a couple of years ago she was in a panic when I suggested her in-laws might be vegetarians. She wanted to know what she’d ever feed them and I said, “Lots of salad.” But what we are serving today is an entire vegetarian meal and I promise the most devoted carnivore would be happy to eat it.
The meal and demo were a success. I served marinated Portobello mushrooms, wild rice pilaf, and sautéed green beans with Asian five spice. They were impressed that most of the cooking was accomplished on the show. I had the rice cooking before we started and the mushrooms marinating, but it’s a really fast meal to prepare and serve. I’m not sure if Miss Polly or Harvey noticed, but I’d placed a black rose at Nikki’s setting. She noticed. It is really weird to see a face in battle camouflage paint break into a megawatt smile.
“Well, what would you like to do now, Nikki? By tradition, today is your date with Brian.”
“Take me home, please,” she said quietly.
“Are you okay? I’m sorry if I did something…”
“I want to wash my face!” she laughed. “This paint itches.”
“Oh!” Well, hell. With Nicolette Duval you never knew for sure. We got to her house and she invited me to her room. There was no sign of her parents anywhere. “Your mom and dad aren’t home?”
“Off in Chicago at some lodge event. Won’t be back until tomorrow night.” She walked into the bathroom adjoining her room. “Make yourself comfortable. I’m going to shower.” I heard the water start in her bathroom and also heard the door lock. Taking no chances. I wandered around her room just looking to see what kind of girl Nikki really was inside.
It wasn’t girly feminine—certainly not like Brenda’s room—but it wasn’t all draped in black with big revolution posters, either. It really surprised me. She’d written on the walls. I don’t mean like graffiti. In random places on the walls were snippets of poetry. This wasn’t her poetry. The entirety of Noyes’ “The Highwayman” was neatly penned along one side of her door.
The wind was a torrent of darkness among the gusty trees,
The moon was a ghostly galleon tossed upon cloudy seas,
The road was a ribbon of moonlight over the purple moor,
And the highwayman came riding—
Riding—riding—
The highwayman came riding, up to the old inn-door.
The whole thing was there. And it’s a long poem. It went from near the ceiling almost to the floor, neatly penned in black marker. It was an echo of her own poetry. Love, betrayal, suicide, death, vengeance, and the long lingering of the ghostly presence. On other walls, shorter bits of poetry ranging from Poe to Billy Joel. Song lyrics, classic poetry, and pieces I’d never heard of. Sometimes a verse and sometimes a whole poem—all penned in her precise handwriting. I stopped in front of one, a song I’d heard and could almost hear the tune as I read the final stanza.
Just remember in the winter far beneath the winter snow
Lies the seed that with the sun’s love, in the spring becomes the rose.
I’d never thought of Nikki as being such a romantic.
“There aren’t many lyrics about roses that aren’t so sappy you want to gag,” she said behind me. “I put that one up there after you gave me a black rose. The first time.” I turned to her. Her hair was wrapped in a towel and another was wrapped around her breasts and middle. It just barely hid both her nipples and her pussy. I stared. “You have a dozen girlfriends, Brian. Don’t tell me you haven’t seen any of them come out of the shower.”
“Um… it’s not that, Nikki. It’s that I’ve never seen you come out of the shower. Like that. With just a towel. I mean, do you want me to give you some privacy so you can get dressed?”
“You know what Monday was?”
“Um… April third?”
“Mmmhmm. My birthday.”
“I didn’t know that. Happy birthday, Nikki!”
“My seventeenth birthday.” Those words just hung in the air between us. Oh shit! How could I tell Nikki that I couldn’t have sex with her? Wouldn’t have sex with her? How could I tell her and still live? “I can’t wait another year. I want it now.”
“Nikki, I can’t…”
“I know you can’t really do it, but you could fake it.” Huh? How the hell did she think I could fake having sex with her?
“I… um… Nikki?”
“I’ve got those pens all over. I printed out a stencil. I can’t do it myself.” She was tearing up. Oh shit, shit, shit!
“I don’t know what you want, Nikki.”
“I want you to tattoo me, dummy.” Tattoo? “I can’t go to a tattoo studio and have it done until I’m eighteen. It’s some stupid state law. But I want my black rose. I know you can’t run a tattoo needle but I thought… I thought you’d do this for me.” Pens. Stencil. Tattoo. Oh, holy shit. She wanted me to draw a black rose on her. I breathed a sigh of relief.
“I can do that!”
“What did you think…? Oh, fuck!”
“Yeah. That’s what I thought. I mean you come out of the shower in just a towel and tell me you’re seventeen and can’t wait. Christ, Nikki! What did you think I’d think?”
“But everybody knows you’re going to fuck Whitney. Why would I try to spoil things for her?”
“Everybody knows?”
“Duh!”
“Oh, crap! I suppose I just made an ass of myself again.”
“Whitney’s so excited she’s like a walking fountain. And I’m sure as hell not ready to do that. It’s all I could do to do this.” By ‘this’, she apparently meant dropping her towel and standing in front of me stark naked. Come on! I’m only a guy. I knew she was pretty under all that army fatigue and ripped tights crap. But this was almost too much to bear. I’ve decided it is simply a universal law or something that the most beautiful woman in the world is the one standing naked in front of you.
“Why are you naked, Nikki? I’m a guy, you know? I respond to certain stimuli and damn it, you are stimulating.”
“Am I really? Are you getting turned on looking at me?”
“Fuck, yes!”
“That’s so cool.”
“But…”
“I’m naked so you can decide where the best place would be to have the tattoo. I know I said right here where the rose you gave me left a mark on my breast, but then I got to thinking maybe it should be more hidden like here on the inside of my thigh. Or do you think it would be better on my butt? I need you to help me decide where it’s going to be.”
“Nikki, to do any drawing on you and all, you know I have to touch you, right?”
“Yeah. Oh. I get it. Touching equals sex. So, if you’ll do it, I’ll let you… um… touch me. Okay? I’ll touch you, too, and won’t send you away with blue balls. Brian… am I one of your girlfriends?”
“Nikki, you are definitely one of my girlfriends. Here’s the deal. You don’t owe me sex or touching. I’ll draw the roses where you want and I won’t touch you any other way unless you really want me to. Just understand that I’m going to have an erection and I’m really, really going to enjoy touching you.”
“Brian, I give you explicit permission to enjoy touching me while you put tattoos all over my body. Okay?” I grinned. This was not how I expected our date to go.
Nikki gave me a bunch of pens and stencils that she’d printed and carefully cut out. We agreed that first I’d do just an outline in the various places that she wanted to try it with a washable pen. When she decided which one she wanted for real, we’d wash the others off and I’d use a permanent marker to fill in the tattoo. I offered to let her cover up while I worked on her ankle first.
“It took all the courage I had to get naked. If I cover up, I’ll lose it. Uh… is it okay? I mean, do you like looking at me?” I looked up at her from where I was working on her ankle. Between me and her eyes was her pussy. And her breasts. She had dark pubic hair, but nowhere near as dark as the hair on her head. I guess dying your hair black was part of being an anarchist.
“Hell, yes I like it!”
“It would be easier on me if you didn’t have so many clothes on,” she whispered as I finished the first outline. “Brian? I love the way that T-shirt fits you, but would you show me what’s under it?” I pulled off my shirt and she ran her hand over my chest and abs. “Nice. Now the one here on my tit.” We worked on the position for a while. I ran my hand all over her breast and squeezed it a little in the name of figuring out where the stencil would fit best. The whole time I was touching her, she was running her hand over my chest and when she flicked my nipple with her thumb, I leaned over and gently kissed her little brown points. She moaned a little.
I finished that drawing and she rolled onto her stomach and pointed to the spot on her butt. I started working on her butt with my fingers, just stroking and kneading the soft flesh. I can’t resist a girl’s butt. I just can’t.
“I’ll give you the rest of the night to stop that, but then you still have to do the drawing,” she sighed. I finally found the right place where I thought it would look good and started to ink in the rose. Her hip twitched. “Do you think there’s a correlation between how much the pen tickles and how much the needle will hurt?” she giggled.
“I don’t know. What tickled most so far?”
“My ankle.” Well, maybe that was a good sign. I couldn’t imagine that she’d go for the one on her ankle.
“I’ve seen a lot of tattoos on the calf. Do you want to give that one a try?”
“I don’t think so. Do this one next.” She rolled onto her back and pointed at the spot right next to her unruly pussy hair. In this position, her soft breasts flattened a little but the nipples stayed erect. There was a flush on her torso that mounted toward her face as I manipulated the stencil to see how it would fit. She drew her right leg up a little and let her knee fall to the side “to give me more room.” This opened her pussy to my eyes, even through the thick forest. Her lips were glistening and her scent became more pungent.
I started drawing. In order to hold the stencil in place, my left hand was pressed against her mound. I could feel her heat but didn’t try to rub her or touch her more than was required by holding the stencil. When the outline was finished, I pulled away and she looked down at me. My hand was still resting on the inside of her thigh and she looked from the sketch to my hand and then up to my eyes. Uh-oh. I wasn’t that good at reading Nikki, but she looked dangerous. I started to move my hand but she shook her head. She reached for the box of Sharpies and handed me two permanent markers.
“Fill it in, please,” she said. As I got back into position, she pushed her right leg out further and I could see her juices collecting at her opening and beginning to trickle down between her cheeks. Everything was hard. I had to hold her skin taut as I filled the outline in with black ink. That meant that part of the time I was applying pressure to the top of her mound. Occasionally she pressed up against me. By the time I was finished, she was quietly moaning and her hips were flexing upward rhythmically. I blew on the fresh ink to dry it and she gasped.
“Nikki?” I said softly. She wasn’t moving to even look at what I’d done. “Do you want me to touch you?”
“N… Yes,” she squeaked.
I moved my hand back over her pussy and she pulled her left leg back. She was fully open to me as if waiting for me to mount her. I played with her hair and spread her moisture around her outer lips as I kissed the inside of her thigh just above the knee. Nikki was trembling all over, but I didn’t want to rush things or startle her into changing her mind. I’d seen the response blowing on the ink got so I gently blew along the inside of her thigh until I ruffled her hair. I dipped into the cream she was leaking and dragged my finger up and around her clit, not quite touching it. There was no need to tease the hood back. Her clit was flushed red and pulsed as I circled again and finally touched it, spreading her lubrication over the little nub. Nikki started rocking in earnest and her breath came in short pants punctuated by little whines and moans. I played around the opening to her vagina and ran my fingers up to squeeze her clit between them.
When Nikki came she wasn’t particularly loud—not compared to Liz or the Kokomo girls, certainly. But every part of her body was involved. Her chest heaved. Her eyes squeezed shut and her mouth opened. One hand was wrapped in the sheet and the other had a death grip on my shoulder. Her toes were curled up tight and the only thing that kept her legs from clamping shut was the fact that I was sitting between them. It sounded like the release came from everywhere inside her and not just where I was touching. Her fluids didn’t quite spray out of her pussy, but there was going to be a big wet spot on her bed.
“You did it. You touched me. I can’t believe I let you do that. I’m so happy I let you do that. Thank you for asking to do that. I hate Whitney.” That brought me to a stop. I crawled up next to her and took her in my arms. She pressed her face against my chest.
“Please don’t say that, Nikki, dear. Please don’t spoil what we just shared.”
“I know. I don’t mean it. Sort of. If you weren’t promised to be her first and she yours, we could keep going. I should thank her. I wasn’t even ready to have you touch me. I’m sure not ready for sex.” I held her and just rocked her in my arms, hoping I could soothe her. She scared me a little. A lot. But I couldn’t help being attracted to her, too. “Brian? We haven’t even kissed yet. Not really. I’m not very good at it. Will you teach me?” That sounded better.
I held her in my arms and we kissed. It wasn’t very good at first… I mean technically. She just kind of opened her mouth a bit and pushed it against my lips and waited. I used all the tricks Renee had taught me to tease her into participating and since she was naked, it was inevitable that my hand found her breast and played with it, teasing her nipples the same way my tongue was teasing hers. I pulled back a bit and she looked me in the eye. She placed her hand on mine on her breast as I squeezed lightly. “Kiss me again, please,” she whispered. “And touch me again?” She guided my hand back to her pussy as I lowered my lips to hers. This time, her orgasm rocked her in seconds, her tongue probing my mouth. Her hips bounced up off the bed and her hand held mine to her pussy. A much louder moan was trapped between our lips.
After she’d nearly passed out from that last one, she lay limply in my arms, still holding my hand on her pussy.
“Um… I don’t know how to… do you. The last time I saw one… I didn’t really touch it before he just shoved it in me and it hurt. Uh… do you… want me to… Shit! What am I supposed to do? I don’t know anything about this shit!”
“Shh, Nikki. Let’s make this one just about you. Let me hold you and caress you and admire your artwork and your poetry. Let me feel the way you tremble at my touch. We’ll do some more some other time when you want to and are ready. I won’t just disappear on you.”
“You won’t? Are you sure?”
“I’m sure. You just turned seventeen. You can’t get a real tattoo for a year. I guess I’m going to have to come over and touch up your ink periodically.”
“Yes!”
Hell! When I got home I jerked off. Three times. What a fucking prick. The truth is that if she’d touched my cock I’d have ended up in her. As long as I had my pants on, I was still intact. Not that guys can actually be intact, I suppose. My virtue was intact. I went one more time before I finally fell asleep about one in the morning.
The week dragged. All of a sudden, I had the spare time that I didn’t think I’d ever have again. I only had one play rehearsal to block Act III on Thursday. It was almost spring break and it seemed like every teacher had one more thing they wanted to accomplish before we escaped. Ms. Sullivan wanted me to practice my demo for Saturday’s filming three different times with different classmates as my partner. She was choosing three from our class who would actually be on the show when I ran out of girlfriends. The fourth slot I had insisted that she fill. She’d started me in 4-H Foods and I was planning to honor her in two weeks. I was getting along pretty well with most of my classmates and there was a friendly competition to see who would get to be a “girlfriend for a day.” But this week was an important demo for me, as well.
Sarah was coming.
Trust Sam to make things happen. She’d started calling Sarah a few weeks ago and finally every single girlfriend had called and Sarah agreed to stop for the demo on her way home for break from Oberlin. I wanted this to be perfect. Surely, Hannah would watch the show if her sister was in it. She’d get the message. No matter what, I still love her.
Sarah showed up at the studio about ten minutes before we were scheduled to start filming. If I’d had to start without her I could have and if she hadn’t shown at all, there were six more girlfriends in the studio waiting to see her who could have stepped in, but Sarah was given the release to sign, had her makeup touched up, and was standing at my side when Miss Polly started the introduction.
Miss Polly: What’s on the menu today, Brian?
Me: Make-up dinner.
Miss P: What?
Me: Let’s face it; in any relationship there is the potential for a misunderstanding. So, let’s say there’s been a little misunderstanding, or your girlfriend left and went hundreds of miles away to college like Sarah did. [laughter] It takes a little while to get reacquainted. To let the fires re-kindle. And the best way to get back together is through food. There’s really nothing like make-up dinner.
Miss P: I get it. So, you are going to fix a wonderful elegant meal and ply her with all your good cooking. What are we having? Caviar? Steak? Salmon?
Me: No. We’re having grilled cheese sandwiches and tomato soup. Having too fancy a meal could make things awkward. You wouldn’t be paying attention to your girlfriend. Or your husband or boyfriend. He or she would be constantly wondering if he was being complimentary enough about your cooking and if it implied that he’d better have brought flowers. What we want for this meal is pure and simple comfort food. But, of course, we’re going to make sure it has a couple special touches that let your special someone know you didn’t just open a can.
The demo taping went well. The soup was from a can, but I added fresh tomatoes to it, a touch of cream, and served it with a pat of butter floating in it. I sliced homemade bread and used Gouda cheese for a tangy melt. I also included thin sliced rings of bell pepper under the cheese. All the time I was fixing the soup, I was asking Sarah how she’d adjusted to her first year in college, what she was studying, and what her favorite and least favorite parts of being on her own were.
It worked beautifully. Sarah admitted that she loved being independent, but really missed her family and often battled being lonely. I reassured her as I served the soup and sandwiches by telling her that I was sure her family missed her just as much as we missed them.
“Don’t forget, Sarah, you have a boyfriend and a whole bunch of girlfriends here who miss you and love you and are happy you are back, even for just a little while.” Then I turned to the camera and smiled—though maybe a little sadly. “Just remember, girlfriend. No matter what, I still love you.”
Sarah wasn’t able to stick around for too long after the show but took the cards we all sent to Hannah and promised she’d deliver them. I sent along a couple fresh baked loaves of bread. We walked her to her car and she paused before she got in.
“Brian, may I have a kiss from my boyfriend now that we’ve had make-up dinner?” I pulled her into my arms and kissed her lovingly. She wiped a tear from her eye when we parted. “I’ll do my best,” she whispered.
Eleven girls wanted to cuddle with me all afternoon. Sam, Whitney, Liz, Rose, Cassie, and Brenda had all been at the studio for the taping. Jennifer and Courtney were at home waiting for us to get back. Anna, Mom, and Dad were sitting in the kitchen. We all went into the family room and watched some animated Disney classic video tape. Mom and Anna were sitting in Dad’s lap in the big chair and the rest of us just piled on and around the sofa. I was on the floor leaning back against Whitney. While we were watching, Sora, Doreen, and Rhiannon showed up. I started laughing, partly because Rhiannon was trying to tickle me and partly because it just struck me funny.
“What are you laughing about, Bri?” Liz asked. She tried to cuddle up closer, which meant that we were all pretty much in a pile and I couldn’t even see the television.
“Oh, I was just thinking about what a typical life I have. Here I am with my Saturday date, politely watching a G-rated movie in the family room with my parents—and their date.”
“Yeah,” Rose agreed. “And when your parents take their date home… er… wherever they take her, your date will sneak up to your room so we can make out for a while.”
“And spend the night,” Jen added brightly.
“And make out some more,” Doreen sighed.
“Before you get to any of that part of the evening,” Dad said, “who is cooking dinner tonight?” I sighed and started to dig my way out from under the girlfriends. Court pushed me back down.
“Stay put. We got it handled,” she smiled. She, Jen, and Sam scrambled out to the kitchen. Forty minutes later, fresh-baked pizzas were coming out of the oven. We all laughed and ate and had a good time. Mom, Dad, and Anna disappeared, and when we’d cleaned up the dishes and leftover pizza, all twelve of us headed for my room.
I was turning out the kitchen light when there was a gentle knock at the back door.
“Am I too late to join?” Nikki asked when I opened the door.
“Not at all! There are twelve of us. Are you going to be okay with that many people in the room?”
“As long as they don’t touch me—and you do.”
“How come you’re so late?”
“Stupid Jobie event. Now those are girls I’d like to kill.” We went upstairs after Nikki ditched her clunky army boots. She was wearing a really nice skirt and blouse with bare legs and I wondered if she’d gone to the event like that in her boots.
“Nicolette! You came,” Brenda greeted her cheerfully at the top of the stairs.
“Not yet. But I’m here.”
We sat around after moving the two big foam pads that I’d managed to buy into the middle of the floor and then spreading the random assortment of blankets over them. I found these big foam mattress pads at Sleep Country when I was shopping for mattresses. They were better because I could roll them up and stow them in a corner when I didn’t have a roomful of girls.
About ten, Jennifer said she thought it was time to get ready for bed.
“Wait! Are you all staying here tonight?” They looked at me like I should have known that and nodded their heads. “Cassie?”
“Oh, I’m spending the night with Brenda tonight. I guess she’s staying here, so…”
“Hey!”
“I’m kidding, Brian. My father knows I’m sleeping with you tonight. I mean staying here.”
“How did you manage that?”
“Some precious angel fool came up with the bright idea to have teen lock-ins in the church—sort of like we did at the basketball tournament in Indianapolis. Only we just have everyone in a big room, lock the church doors, and have three adults ‘on duty.’ Funny how they decided it was a safe environment that kept kids off the street on the weekend. It should be about four more months before we find out if anyone got pregnant. I carefully explained to my father that this was exactly the same, with three adults and all the kids in one big room. And that we had the added advantage of our agreement. He said that as long as I promised that no girls were ever alone with a boy he’d let me stay. But he’s coming by at nine to take me to church.”
“I bet you didn’t tell him that the three adults were sleeping together in a different room,” Jennifer giggled. Nikki’s eyes got big. I think she was the only one who didn’t know about their arrangement.
“Well, I guess we should get ready for bed, then.”
There was a scramble as girls grabbed their toiletries and things. Then there was a sudden hush. I looked around at where the girls were staring and Nikki was standing there in just her panties. She had her toothbrush in her hand.
“What? You said get ready for bed. This is how I sleep.”
“Um… the rule of the house has always been proper sleepwear at group gatherings,” I said. “Pajamas.”
“Nobody told me about fucking pajamas!”
“Oops!” Cassie said. “I forgot mine.” We turned as she pulled her T-shirt over her head and stood in an outfit that matched Nikki’s. Holy fucking shit! The two shyest girls in the whole group were standing nearly naked in front of me practically daring the rest of the girls to strip. I’d seen both girls’ breasts. I’d touched them. I’d touched a lot more of Nikki than of Cassie. But to see them just standing there bare-breasted with the rest of the girls in robes or nightshirts had me alternating between drooling and dry-mouth. It took about two seconds for every top in the room to come off. Twenty-four tits on display and a few of them were pressed up against each other.
“Nikki and Cassie, you need to understand that the unwritten rule of sleeping with Brian is that he can touch any exposed skin. You can give the girls as a group or individual permission to touch you or like me, tell them boy’s hands only,” Liz said.
“Then I’m losing the panties,” Nikki said, shocking everybody again. She hooked her thumbs in her waistband and started to push them down.
“I think we should keep panties on tonight,” I said. “Just to prevent accidents.”
“Wait!” Rhiannon practically shouted. “Nicolette, you didn’t! Look! She’s got her rose tattoo.” The conversation quickly switched from sleeping apparel to the tattoo and Nikki showed my artwork proudly.
“It needs to be touched up,” she whispered to me. She must have been doing some touch-up by herself for the ink to still be visible after a week.
“I thought you were going to get it on your boob,” Sam said.
“It was… um… more interesting here.”
“We should all do it. Our mark of solidarity,” Doreen said. I glanced around the room. Cassie, Jennifer, Samantha, Courtney, Liz, Rose, and Whitney all had ankle bracelets with their names. I’d caught just a glimpse of Sarah’s anklet this morning, though she was wearing tennis shoes and short socks. I knew Elaine only took hers off if she was in a show. I wondered if Hannah still wore hers. After a moment’s reverie, I noticed that Nikki was scowling and pulled her panties back up. I touched her shoulder and she flinched but then relaxed and leaned into me.
“Guys, the black rose tattoo is special to Nikki. I don’t think you should all try to assimilate it into the group for a different meaning.” Nikki hugged me.
“I’m sorry, Nikki,” Doreen said. “I said that without thinking and just because I think what you did was cool. How’d you manage to get a tattoo before you were eighteen?”
“Mmm… well, it isn’t real yet. I had… Brian draw it on me with a Sharpie. It needs to be touched up a little.” There was a collective sigh.
Eventually, we all got settled for sleep. I got a full body hug from each of my girlfriends and spent a couple minutes letting them know how much I appreciated their bare nipples. As I nibbled at Liz, I let my hand drift between her legs. It was a small orgasm, but loud enough that the girls started giggling.
“I’ll just have what she had,” Rose said, settling into my arms. Everyone giggled, but that was the only orgasm delivered. Cassie was next for her goodnight kiss. I didn’t pass up the opportunity to fondle her and lick her nipples. She pressed herself against me and I felt her hips shift to rub her panty-clad pussy against my hard-on. She sighed and moved away for the next girl.
When we finally settled down to actually sleep, Nikki was pressed firmly against me on the far side of the bed from the other girls. By some mutual agreement, the girls had all opted to sleep on the floor except Nikki and Whitney with me in the bed. Brenda, Rose, Samantha, Jennifer, and Courtney were cuddled together and whispering about the prom. Liz, Sora, Cassie, Doreen, and Rhiannon were lying side-by-side on one of the foam pads and were soon asleep.
Whitney leaned across me and whispered to Nikki. She nodded and after each girl kissed me again, Whitney scooted down in the bed and dragged my underwear down. I quickly looked at Nikki and she was grinning. It was her hand that held my cock up as Whitney applied her mouth to the crown. Nikki moved my hand to her pussy and pulled the crotch of her panties away so I could touch the flood that was issuing from her. And speaking of floods, mine burst forth in seconds, filling Whitney’s mouth. Nikki could feel my cock pulsing where her hand still held me for Whit and she bit my shoulder to keep from crying out. Whitney crawled back up beside us and reached a finger toward Nikki’s lips. A pearl droplet rested on her outstretched finger. Nikki opened her mouth and licked the drop from Whitney’s hand. Both girls smiled and sank into my arms as we drifted off to sleep.
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