Falling

by Katherine Cobb

Tentatively, I reached over and touched the outside of his pants, which strained from his swollen member. I tried summoning what Katy and I had read in those dirty books she’d pilfered from the family she babysat for, and thought I should rub, not squeeze. Even though I had no idea what I was doing, Alec’s eyes were closed and his expression one of pleasure.

  “That’s good,” he panted. “Don’t stop.”

  I kept rubbing until he thrust his hips and convulsed in his seat. Startled, I jerked my hand away.

  A few moments later, he opened his eyes and winked at me. “That’s more like it, baby.”

  I smiled weakly. “Can you take me home?”

  “So soon? We’re just getting started.” A Cheshire cat-sized grin overtook his face.

  I practically begged. “I really don’t feel well.”

  “I’ll take you home, but you’ll have to promise we’ll continue where we left off in the very near future.”

  I smiled at him in response, my lips frozen in place.

  Alec chatted on the way home, unaffected by my silence. He walked me to door, kissed me on the cheek and whispered, “Good night, princess.” I nearly ran into the house.

  “You’re home early,” my mother said, glancing up from her latest knitting project. The television blared and my dad snored loudly on the couch. “Is everything alright? Did you have fun?”

  “Mmm hmm, but I feel sick.”

  “What happened?”

  “It must have been the fruit punch.” Yet another lie. “My stomach hurts and I’m super tired. I’m going to bed.”

  “Don’t forget to hang up your fancy dress. Do you want help?”

  “I got it, Mom. Thanks.”

  “Get some rest, honey.”

  I went to my room, shut the door and tore off my gown, flinging it across the room. A moment later, I hung it properly in the closet. It wasn’t the dress’s fault; it was mine. Or Alec’s. Truthfully, I wasn’t entirely sure.

  10

  Round Two

  “What happened to you last night?” Katy said, accusation blistering her tone through the receiver.

  What to say? “Things didn’t go so well.”

  “It looked like you were having fun to me. At least, when I actually saw you. One minute, you were dancing with Alec and the next you were gone.”

  “The weed made me nauseous and dizzy, so he took me to his car to lie down for a while and see if that helped.”

  “Really?” Katy’s irritation took a swift turn. “What happened?”

  I hesitated. Even though I could tell her anything, sometimes Katy made things worse with her judgments and biting comments. “He guilted me into doing things I didn’t want to do.”

  “Oh c’mon, You’re kidding, right? I want details!”

  This was going to be impossible. “What about you? How was your night?”

  “Perfect. Jeff said he wants to take me out again next weekend.”

  “Sweet. You make a nice couple.”

  “When are you and Alec going out again? Maybe we could double.”

  I stifled a sigh. “I’m not even sure what I think about him at the moment.”

  “Don’t do anything stupid, Anna. He is quite a catch. Any number of girls would line up and happily go all the way.”

  Did she mean herself? “I’m sure that’s true.”

  “And once you do it, you’ll see what’s so amazing, so don’t blow it.” Katy had lost her virginity the previous summer while on vacation and considered herself an expert on the subject ever since. “Are you listening to me?”

  “He was just so pushy last night.”

  “That’s because the number one goal of the male species is to get inside our pants. But cut him some slack. He’s only human.”

  After I mumbled my agreement, she prattled on about who had won Homecoming King and Queen and the rest of the court. I listened halfheartedly, still tired and irritated with my date. Or was he my boyfriend now?

  I hung up with Katy and dragged myself out of bed and into the kitchen. The newspaper obscured my father’s head, my mom ate an English muffin while reading a novel and Ant was nowhere to be found. I took a seat at the table, nibbled on breakfast and fielded all the questions I could stand from my parents. I begged off to start an assignment about Theodore Roosevelt due on Monday.

  Saturday came and went without a call from Alec. This disturbed me more than I wanted to admit. Did he no longer like me? Had I been a terrible date? Did he think me immature? And the worst: did he use me?

  Sunday night, Alec finally phoned, acting like Mr. Congeniality. “How are you, sweetheart?”

  My heart raced, a mixture of dread and longing. “Much better.”

  “I had a great time the other night. You looked sensational and felt even better. I can’t wait to seal the deal.”

  My body went into paralysis. How to answer that?

  “What, are you speechless?” He laughed. “I have that effect on the ladies.”

  “I’m not sure how to respond,” I said carefully.

  “How about with enthusiasm? That, and let me take you to the movies Friday night.”

  “I’ll have to check.” A stalling tactic.

  “It’s a date. See you tomorrow, beautiful.”

  “See ya.”

  I hung up the phone wondering how he could be so cavalier. He didn’t skip a beat, sounding like his normal egotistical self. Was I missing something?

  Alec pestered me at school the same as always. Unlike me, nothing had changed for him. He laid on his charm as thick as peanut butter, flattering me at every opportunity. I began to question what happened on Homecoming night and whether I had blown the events out of proportion. Still a bit forlorn about what transpired with Pete, I worried about screwing this up, too. I brushed off my nerves and let it go.

  Friday night, Alec took me to see Midnight Express, the true story of a young American student sent to a Turkish prison for trying to smuggle hash out of the country. Scary and intense. Afterward, he took me to the Ice Creamery, where we ate hot fudge sundaes and talked about our favorite movies.

  We drove to the Berkeley Marina and walked down one of the long piers. Boats bobbed up and down with the current with a lulling consistency. Stars speckled the midnight blue sky, and an almost full moon lit our path. His hand was warm in mine as we strolled. He stopped and pulled me to him, kissing me with tenderness. My body quivered, responding with a will of its own. My arms wrapped around his neck and he drew me tighter as our tongues intertwined, exploring each other’s mouths.

  He paused. “You’re doing it to me again.”

  “What?” I said, breathless.

  “Making me crazy.”

  I giggled.

  “I think you put a spell on me,” he said, kissing me again.

  Back in the car, Alec cracked open two beers, handing me one. “Cheers.” He clinked our bottles together, took a few swigs and slid the bottle back into the six-pack holder under his legs. He turned to me with a grin. “Now where did we leave off?”

  Our lips met again, this time with more urgency. My body pulsed with an unfamiliar longing. His hands moved under my shirt and I willed myself not to stiffen. Let him do what he wants. Go with the flow. Don’t be some stupid girl who shows her naiveté. I didn’t need that much of a pep talk with his touch electric against my tingling skin.

  As we kissed, his calloused hands roved. He unhooked my bra and touched my breasts. He lifted my shirt and his mouth took over where his hands left off. My breath drew in sharply, my whole body throbbing.

  Alec groaned. He sat up, undid his zipper, freed himself and put my hand on his hardness. I kept my composure this time. Aside from some accidental sightings and one elementary schoolyard “I’ll show you mine if you show me yours” moment, I’d never seen or touched a penis, especially one in this state. It was hard not to stare.

  “Come here,” he murmured.

  I leaned closer, thinking he was going to kiss me. But he didn’t. Ins
tead, he pushed my head toward his crotch. Oh, God. I have never done this before.

  “What are you waiting for?” he said, his voice hoarse.

  Unsure, I bent over and closed my eyes. Alec thrust himself into my mouth, firmly holding his hands on the back of my head. I panicked, trapped, my impulse to break free. I couldn’t breathe for a minute.

  Get a grip. Stay calm. Breathe through your nose. Concentrate. Don’t gag! That was nearly impossible the way he kept pushing my head down and grinding his hips upward. None of it excited me, but Alec panted harder and moved faster. I likened it a boxing match, trying to dodge and weave until I fought my way through it. Alex climaxed suddenly, his sour thick liquid spurting in my mouth. My body recoiled, and I forced myself to swallow. Only then did he let go of my head.

  Free from his grasp, I gagged and shuddered, but stifled the urge to retch, thank God. I rolled down my window and gulped in fresh air. I re-hooked my bra and straightened my shirt. Still fighting the unpleasant aftertaste, I drank the rest of my beer.

  Alec sat back, eyes closed, appearing to savor the moment. I felt dirty, sleazy and dismayed any girl enjoyed giving head. Maybe it really was true that nice girls didn’t do this kind of thing.

  He zipped himself up, winked and started the car. “That was first-rate, sweetheart.” He cranked the stereo up loud and backed the car out.

  The landscape turned from boats to cars as we left the marina, the city lights glistening from across the bay. I stared out the window while Alec sang loudly to a Foreigner song, strumming his fingertips on his steering wheel in time with the drums.

  I miss Pete. He’s probably listening to music, hanging out friends and having a good time. And I’d be by his side if I hadn’t screwed things up. What I had gotten myself into with Alec? Maybe I was naive. Maybe this is what happened on dates. Maybe I was too immature to appreciate Alec’s attempts to induct me into the world of the sexually experienced. But riddle me this, Batman. If sex was so amazing, how come I felt small and used?

  I think I made a HUGE mistake. It’s becoming a bad habit. I don’t know what to do. I can’t write about it because someone (like Ant...BUTT OUT, BRO) might read this and it’s too private. Please send me a sign. I’m drowning. Or abnormal. I’m totally confused and sad. And maybe pathetic.

  When Michelle called Saturday morning and invited me to spend the night, I jumped at the chance. She also asked Katy, making it a proper slumber party. I wanted to be with my friends for a change.

  We spent the first hour eating junk food and gossiping about our favorite topic: boys. I glossed over the details of my date with Alec, letting them believe the fairy tale. I didn’t need another lecture from Katy and wasn’t sure if Michelle would even understand. Katy enlightened us about which girls at school had a reputation for sleeping around. She said Tammy Winslow, the clotted-mascara-wearing, hair-sprayed redhead in our class, had been nicknamed “Wham, bam, thank you, Tam.”

  Katy stared pointedly at Michelle. “Anna and I had an idea.”

  “More of a project,” I explained.

  Michelle glanced back and forth between us. “Why do I get the feeling I should be nervous?”

  “We want to give you a new look,” Katy said.

  “You’re such a pretty girl, Mich,” I added, “but no one can see it under all that hair and those—”

  “—ugly clothes. Sorry, but it’s the truth.” Katy never minced words.

  She sighed. “I know. My wardrobe is pathetic.”

  “So you’ll do it? You’ll let us make you over?” I said.

  Michelle paused.

  I gyrated. “You can trust us.”

  Katy tapped her fingers together like a mad scientist. “You have nothing to lose.”

  She relented. “Okay, but don’t make me look like a dork.”

  I stole a quick glance at Katy and our eyes met. There was no way that could happen. Michelle was already at the bottom of the fashion food chain.

  “You won’t be sorry. I’m so psyched!” Katy jumped up to retrieve the makeup she’d brought.

  I fluffed Michelle’s hair. “The first thing we need to tackle is this hair.”

  “Nothing can fix this mess,” she said, grabbing her crimson frizzy ends and lifting them up in a giant wad. “Believe me when I tell you I’ve tried.”

  Katy pulled out a bottle. “Aha…but not this. It’s a new product, a hair relaxer. It promises to tame even the most unruly hair. Don’t you think you qualify?”

  Michelle’s skepticism abounded.

  “My mom wouldn’t have given it to me to use if she wasn’t a believer.” Katy’s mother worked in a beauty salon, so we trusted her knowledge implicitly.

  Katy applied some petroleum jelly around Michelle’s hairline to protect it, then sectioned her hair, squeezing white creamy goo from the bottle of relaxer throughout each portion. “This stays on your hair for twenty minutes before we can wash and dry it.”

  Michelle wrinkled her nose. “It smells bad. You sure it’s legit?”

  “Totally,” Katy said with assurance.

  “While we wait, let’s take a look at your clothes,” I said.

  Michelle trudged into her room after us, sitting on the bed with an ambiguous expression. I opened her closet and ventured in, coming out moments later with an ugly blouse. “I think we can all agree this has to go.”

  Katy held up a pilled green sweater. “Grody to the max.”

  Michelle’s mouth gaped open. “Hey, I like that sweater!”

  I made a face. “It’s gotta go, Mich.”

  “Fine.”

  Katy and I took turns bringing out the most offensive pieces of her wardrobe and flinging them into a heap near her bed. Next we tackled her chest of drawers, and the “no” pile grew.

  “See how this shirt goes great with these jeans?” I displayed the combination, channeling a game show hostess.

  She nodded.

  Katy grabbed a vest. “This is cute, and you can wear it with jeans, too.”

  “And you can pair this pink tube top with this skirt when it warms up again,” I said, placing it back in her dresser.

  Michelle stared forlornly at her A-cup breasts. “Even though I don’t have anything to hold it up.”

  “They look better with a smaller boobs anyway. Busty girls look ridiculous in tube tops.”

  “Oh crap! The relaxer!” Katy exclaimed.

  We ran to the bathroom.

  Michelle unwrapped the towel from her head and leaned over the sink. Katy shampooed Michelle’s hair twice followed by a deep conditioning. She blew it dry, wielding the round bristled brush like a professional to help straighten the mass.

  I held my breath as Katy worked, praying we hadn’t fried her hair.

  “Is it okay?” Michelle sounded anxious.

  “It looks great so far,” Katy said.

  “Thank God.”

  Katy’s skills impressed me. “Wow, it’s really straightening out, isn’t it?”

  Katy seemed dazzled herself. “This stuff really works.”

  “I want to see! Can I see?” Michelle pleaded.

  “Not yet.”

  When Katy finished, we stood back and admired the final product. Michelle’s hair was stunning—straight for the first time in her life. In place of that uncontrollable kinky frizz lay shiny, smooth tresses. It rendered us speechless.

  “What? What is it?”

  Katy beamed. “I’m amazed. I knew I was good but not that good.”

  I laughed.

  Michelle tried to stand but Katy placed a hand on her shoulder. “Wait just a little longer. I want to do your makeup.”

  Our pet project sighed with unmasked frustration.

  Katy spent another ten minutes on Michelle’s face. Nothing too dramatic, just some black eyeliner, an application of mascara, the faintest hint of peach blush and a coating of lipgloss. The result was even more gorgeous.

  “Okay, one more thing,” I yelled over my shoulder. I ran to her
room and fetched one of the few cute outfits we had assembled. “Put this on,” I said, breathless, “and no peeking!”

  Michelle dressed in the outfit, and we blindfolded her, leading her down the hall and into her bedroom in front of the full-length mirror.

  “Ready?” said Katy.

  “Ready to kill you.”

  Katy pulled off the blindfold and revealed the new Michelle.

  “Holy cow!” Her hand stroked her hair, feeling its silkiness. “My hair...”

  I smiled. “Look at you.”

  Michelle became teary. “You guys, this is unbelievable. Way better than I thought it could turn out. No offense. I love it. Thank you.” She turned and squeezed us together in a tight hug.

  Katy quietly admonished her. “Don’t cry. Your mascara will run.”

  “Let’s go show your parents,” I said. We ran down the hall into the living room, where we presented their new and improved daughter.

  Mrs. Homely’s hand clapped over her mouth. Mr. Homely smiled and removed his reading glasses. “Did you do something to your hair?” I loved his deadpan humor.

  “Funny, Dad.”

  “Unbelievable.” Mrs. Homely approached, touching Michelle’s straightened locks.

  “Can you believe it?” Michelle gushed.

  “Not if I wasn’t seeing it with my own eyes,” she murmured. She cupped her daughter’s face in her hands and said, “You are simply stunning. Not that you haven’t always been a beauty.”

  Mrs. Homely hugged Katy and me. “Thank you for bringing it out, girls. Super job. Maybe you two have found your calling.”

  We laughed and skipped back to Michelle’s room to finish culling though her wardrobe. We pulled together a handful of outfits, and promised to take her shopping for new clothes. Our mission accomplished, we plopped down in the family room with soda and popcorn to watch TV and gossip some more. Later, as our chatter died down and we drifted off to sleep, I was aware that despite the diversion our little gathering provided, shame, worry and confusion over Alec still percolated beneath my surface.

  11

  The Undoing

  My father called to me from the kitchen as I walked in the door with my mother, coming home from Michelle’s. He held the phone out and mouthed, “Alec.” Luckily, he didn’t lurk.