by Cindi Myers
He found his place on the page again. “‘Of course, you didn’t really see much of the show, did you?’ Alyson said. Then she doubled over in that awful laugh of hers. It sounds like she inhaled a broken accordion. ‘Everyone else got to see the show you put on, didn’t they?’
“I told her she wasn’t making any sense and walked away, but of course, that wasn’t the end of it. The minute I sat down in history class, Evan Stevenson and his buddies, Mark and Steve, started nudging each other and laughing.”
He glanced at her again. “Those three stooges always were losers.”
She nodded. “But they were football players, so they were still popular.”
What could he say to that? It was true. In a town where football was king, playing on the team automatically made you somebody. He turned the page and continued reading. “Finally, I couldn’t stand it anymore. I whirled around in my seat and glared at them. ‘What is so funny, you morons?’ I said.
“They just laughed all the more. Then Alyson took her seat across from me. ‘Don’t you know everyone saw what you did Saturday? You only thought everyone had gone home. But lots of people stayed around to see what would happen and they saw you.’
“‘I was home Saturday night,’ I told her. ‘I’m always home on Saturday night. What else is new?’”
Guilt pinched him again. Where had he been that Saturday night? Out with friends? With another girl? Whoever it was, likely he’d really wanted to be with Taylor. Why had he been so stupid back then?
“Go on,” she prompted.
He nodded. “She just smirked and shook her head. ‘You’re a lousy liar. Ricky Anderson told me himself that he saw you standing up there in front of the drive-in screen, big as life, taking off all your clothes while Dylan sat in the car watching.’
“I stared at her. I tell you, I was seconds away from leaping out of my desk and ripping that smug look off her face with my fingernails when Mrs. Solis walked in and said it was time to start class.
“After first period, I told the nurse I was sick and called my mom to come and get me. How in the world am I ever going to go back and face those morons?”
“That’s enough.” She reached out and closed the book.
She had a funny look on her face. Maybe hearing those words again had brought back all the old pain of that time. She could pretend the old taunts didn’t bother her anymore, but if that was the case, why were they even here, attempting to banish those old demons? He reached for her. “I wish I’d known they were saying all those things to you. I guess I was pretty stupid and oblivious.”
She shook her head and gently pushed him away. “We were kids. We didn’t know anything.”
“Still, I hate thinking they were so cruel.” He frowned. “And I was cruel, too, for doing nothing.”
“Hey, I didn’t come out here to beat you over the head with past mistakes.” She smoothed her hand down his arm. “I came here to have a little fun with what might have been.”
A shiver crept over him as he stared into her eyes and remembered the words in her diary. “A striptease?” he asked.
She nodded and fingered the top button of her blouse. “Do you want to watch?”
The words sent white heat lacing through him, along with a kaleidoscope of erotic images. He wet his lips and nodded. “Yeah. I’d like that. A lot.”
She pushed against his chest, pressing him back against the seat. “Then sit back and relax. I think we’ll both enjoy this.”
SHE WAS A LITTLE NERVOUS at first, standing out there in the open. The lot was empty, leaning speaker stands dotted across the gravel like bizarre shrubs. The only sounds were the pinging of the car’s cooling engine and the rattle of cicadas in the trees by the broken-down concession stand. She looked up at the stars scattered across the sky like silver glitter. She felt small against all the vastness. Vulnerable.
The trick was to take that vulnerability and to turn it into strength. To take her nakedness and turn it into power. Wasn’t that the whole point of this—to take a bad time in her life and turn it into something good? To learn how to risk a little in order to gain so much more?
She looked toward the car. In the darkness, she could only see the outline of Dylan as he sat in the passenger seat. She reached for the top button of her shirt.
“I can’t see you,” he said.
She hesitated. “You could turn on the headlights, but I think they’d blind me.”
“We need something else for light. Do you have a flashlight?”
Why hadn’t she thought of that before? “There might be something in the trunk.”
He got out of the car, keys in hand and walked around to open the trunk. A moment later he emerged with a heavy-duty light, the kind they used on boats. She vaguely recalled her father giving it to her. She didn’t think she’d ever turned it on.
Dylan balanced the light atop the rail fence and aimed it at her. It cast a halo of yellow light around her. “There you go, madame.” He executed a stiff bow, then strode back to the car.
Take two. She faced the car again, trying to center herself, to get into the mood. Dylan had seen her naked before, after all—though not quite so well-lighted. Suddenly she was aware of every flaw in her body. Would he notice? Would he care?
She wished she could see him. Then again, maybe it was better if she couldn’t. She could use her imagination, the most powerful aphrodisiac of all.
She kicked off her shoes, then reached up and began to unbutton her blouse. She moved slowly, focusing on the way the slight breeze puckered her nipples and raised the hair on her arms, on the fullness in her groin and the humming of blood in her temples. She felt the power of her sexuality moving through her, making her heart race and her spirits soar.
Music burst into the silence, startling her, then she smiled. It was an exotic, Irish air, one of the CDs from her own collection. Why hadn’t she thought of music before? It helped to have some rhythm to move to, something to help set the mood.
She began to sway, turning all the way around, arms out to the side, her open blouse flaring, then falling to her side, giving glimpses of her lacy bra. She concentrated on paying attention to the way her body moved, the interplay of muscle and skin, the sensation of cool air on bare flesh, of fabric brushing against her.
She stopped turning and faced forward again, looking toward the shadowy interior of the car. Imagination was a powerful thing. She had no trouble imagining Dylan watching her, his eyes dilated with desire, his mouth slack.
Leaving her blouse on, the front open, she turned her back to him and eased open the zipper of her skirt. Bending forward, she slid the skirt down over her buttocks, moving slowly, revealing herself to him inch by inch.
“You have the most beautiful ass.” His voice drifted to her, disembodied. “I get a hard-on watching you walk down the hall.”
She was instantly wet, tension building between her thighs. With an exaggerated swivel of her hips, she faced forward once more and let the blouse slide off her shoulders. She focused her eyes where she thought he might be, imagining how he must look, letting him see how much she wanted him.
She began to sway again, shimmying, each movement sending the blouse sliding farther toward the ground. It fell, leaving her in her bra, garter belt and hose, black silk thong. It was underwear designed to seduce. Wearing it, she’d felt incredibly sexy.
She reached back and unfastened the bra and slipped it off her shoulders. Her breasts fell free, swaying slightly. They felt heavy and tight, the nipples swollen, aching. A slight breeze brushed across her, arousing her further.
She turned her back to the car once more and slid her thumbs under the edge of the thong. She bent over, butt in the air, and slid the scrap of silk toward her ankles.
“Spread your legs.”
She did so, feeling the breeze over her clit like a lover’s breath. She wondered what he was doing while he watched her. Was he touching himself? The thought aroused her further.
“T
urn around again,” he said. “I want to see you.”
She did as he asked and reached up to touch her aching breasts, holding them. She heard the sharp intake of his breath. She closed her eyes, telling herself not to think about anything, to just feel. Do what feels good. She covered her breasts with her hands, brushing her palms across her aching nipples.
“Yesss,” he hissed.
Continuing to sway to the music, she reached down and unsnapped one garter. She propped her foot on the rail fence, the makeshift spotlight aimed directly at her sex. With agonizing slowness, she rolled down the stocking, her skin paper-white against the black silk. The musk of her arousal mingled with the scent of dusty sage.
She changed position and removed the other stocking, then stood and unsnapped the garter belt. When she straightened, she was completely naked. She grew still, hands at her sides, waiting. “Come here,” she said.
The door of the car thrust open and Dylan emerged, removing his shirt as he walked toward her, kicking off his shoes. She helped him out of his pants and briefs, stripping them down his muscular legs, aware of his erection pointing at her.
He pulled her close, wrapping his arms around her, bending her head back with the force of his kiss. One hand on her breast, he reached the other down between her legs, parting the folds, sinking his finger into her, stroking, caressing, driving her mad with wanting. “I’m going to make you come until you scream,” he whispered, his lips against the corner of her mouth.
She nodded and all but whimpered, arching against his hand. He grew still, his finger still inside her, and lowered his head to her breasts. She moaned, weak-kneed with wanting, barely able to stand.
“Turn around.” He put his hands at her waist and turned her back to him. “Put your hands on the hood of the car.”
She did as he asked, bracing herself with her palms flat against the car hood. He nudged her legs farther apart with his knee, then put his arms around her. He caressed her breasts, rolling her nipples between his thumb and forefinger. She pressed her back against his chest, his erection nestled against her buttocks.
He wrapped his arm around her waist, holding her tightly against him, and slipped two fingers of the other hand into her once more. She groaned, straining against him. “Dylan, please!”
“Shh, just a minute. Don’t move.” She felt cold as he moved away from her and began to shake from more than the chill in the air. She was so close to coming she felt the breeze itself might send her over the edge.
Dimly, she was aware of the sound of the condom packet being torn, then she felt the head of his penis nudging at her. He reached around to caresses her breasts, lightly pinching her nipples. He slid into her and she tightened around him, smiling at the different sensation created by this new angle.
He began to move and she braced herself against the car once more, surrendering to wave after wave of desire washing over her. He thrust deep within her, then withdrew slowly, his hands caressing her breasts, until every nerve was on fire for him.
He leaned forward and began to kiss the back of her neck, the tenderness of the gesture sending her over the edge. A scream tore from her throat as her climax crashed through her, going on for what seemed like minutes. She was dimly aware of him following her, the force of his thrusts pressing her against the car. Then he slipped out of her and turned her to face him once more, holding her tightly against him, his face buried against her neck.
“Th-that was incredible,” she gasped.
“You’re incredible,” he murmured, crushing her to him. “I…”
She put her hand to his lips, afraid of what he might be about to say. She didn’t want to talk about feelings now. She didn’t want to talk about anything. She wanted to close her eyes and savor the moment, to pretend there was nothing before, or after, to worry about.
12
MONDAY WAS A DAY of revelations for Taylor. At times she wondered if somewhere between going to bed Sunday night and arriving at school to begin a week of classes, she’d slipped into an alternate universe, one where no one behaved the way she expected them to.
It started with Grady Murphy stopping by her classroom before first period. “I just wanted to let you know I’ve approved Dylan’s dad’s book for your class project,” he said.
“Thanks.” Of course, Clay had already given her this news, but as department head, Grady had every right to deliver it himself. “My class will be excited to hear it.”
Grady lingered, rocking back and forth on his heels, sliding one hand along the edge of her desk. She braced herself for some probing question or cutting remark about her relationship with Dylan. “Is there something else?”
“Yeah.” He picked up the blown-glass paperweight her mother had sent for her birthday and examined it, then put it back down. His eyes met hers. “I wanted you to know—I think you’ve got a lot of guts taking on a project like this.”
Her mouth dropped open. “Y-you do?”
“Yeah.” He folded his arms over his chest. “I’ve thought a lot about what you said the other day, about what we’re really supposed to be teaching these kids.” He shook his head. “Sometimes in the middle of all the paperwork and politics, we lose sight of that.”
“Yeah.” She stared at him, as if seeing him—really seeing him—for the first time. The man in front of her wasn’t a loser or an ex-jock who was still clinging to his high school glory days. He was a teacher, like her. Someone who cared about his students and his job. The revelation shook her. “Yeah, I guess we do.”
He straightened. “Anyway, I wanted you to know, I’ll back you up if you get any flack from any parents or any of the people in town.”
“Thank you, Grady. I—I really appreciate that.”
“Yeah, well, that’s my job, isn’t it?”
The first bell rang, breaking whatever spell had been cast over them. Grady rolled his shoulders and was transformed to the Grady she knew. Or thought she knew. “I’d better get going. If I’m not there those junior boys are liable to break into my desk and steal a copy of next week’s test.”
When he was gone, she sank into her chair and stared after him. What had just happened here? Had she glimpsed the real Grady Murphy or only a mirage? Could she have been wrong about him all these years?
Her second world-tilting moment came after third period, when Alyson stopped her in the hallway outside the library. “Hello, Taylor. Did you have a nice weekend?”
For a moment Taylor was back in high school, standing beside her locker while Alyson asked this familiar, loaded question. She stared at her older but eerily unchanged former classmate, looking for the poison barb she was sure was waiting on the other side of her answer.
But the snideness she remembered from high school was gone from Alyson’s voice now and her heavily made-up eyes held no guile. “I had a nice weekend,” Taylor said. “Those Friday afternoons off are always a welcome change.” Especially considering how she’d spent her Friday afternoon and evening.
“You’re still seeing Dylan, right?”
Here it comes, Taylor thought, stiffening. “Yes? What about it?” Had someone seen them—seen her—at the drive-in and reported the news around town?
“Hey, I didn’t say there was anything wrong with that, did I?” Alyson shifted her clipboard to her other arm. “I was wondering if the two of you would be interested in chaperoning the Homecoming Dance weekend after next? I need another couple of adults.”
“The Homecoming Dance?” Taylor had forgotten that one of the high school’s social events of the year was fast approaching. She’d purposely put it out of her mind. She’d spent her own homecoming making fudge and watching old movies, trying not to think about Dylan at the dance with another girl.
“So, will you do it?”
Alyson’s question pulled her back to the present. Go to homecoming with Dylan? Why not? She smiled. “I’ll have to ask Dylan, but I think so.”
Alyson smiled. “Great. Let me know soon as you can.”
/>
She turned to leave but Taylor stopped her. “Alyson?”
Alyson looked back over her shoulder. “Yes.”
“Thanks. Thanks for asking me.”
“Sure. I thought the two of you would be perfect.” She grinned. “Just like old times, huh?”
But this time, the familiar comment didn’t have the sting it had before. Had Alyson’s attitude changed over one weekend—or had Taylor’s? Had being with Dylan transformed her somehow, so that she was seeing the people around her through different eyes?
She was eating lunch at her desk when Mindy came in. The normally bubbly blond looked dazed, her hair un-styled, dark circles beneath her eyes. Taylor rose to pull a chair over to the desk for her. “What happened to you?” she asked. “Did you have a rough weekend?”
Mindy sank into the chair and flashed a weary smile. “Sort of. But in a good way.” She blushed to the roots of her hair.
Taylor sat again and leaned toward her friend. “What happened?” Then she remembered Mindy’s plans for the weekend. “Did you have supper with Clay on Friday? Tell me what happened. And don’t leave anything out.”
Mindy tucked her hair behind her ears and smoothed her skirt over her thighs. “I did what you suggested. I came right out and told him how I felt.” A sly smile stole across her lips. “Or I guess you could say I showed him.”
“What?” Taylor’s heart raced. “What did he say? What did he do?”
Mindy pleated the fabric of her skirt with her fingers. “I—I kissed him. And…one thing led to another….” She giggled. “It was incredible. He’s incredible.”
Taylor leaned over to hug her close. “What did I tell you? I’m so happy for you.”
Mindy nodded. “There’s only one thing. We have to keep this a secret. No one can know. It might reflect badly on Clay.”
“Reflect badly on him?” Taylor frowned. “In what way?”
“He doesn’t want people to think he’s showing any favoritism toward me.”
Taylor sat back in her chair. “Give me a break. You’re both adults. You can still work together.”
