“I was afraid,” she said and stroked. “I was so afraid you’d reject me.”
“Never.” I lowered my weight over her body with hands fisting the damp earth and crumpled leaves. “Never.” I kissed the swell of her breast, and she arched up, making a sound.
“You’re so good.” Her voice was harder, how she’d spoke before when she was herself.
I kissed her hard, blocking her words with my roaming tongue. I whispered into her ear, “I’m keeping your dress on.”
I moved my hand under and pushed the hem up, rubbing her pussy. She cried. I sat up and retrieved a condom from my back pocket, ripping it open.
“It’s okay. I’m on the pill.”
“Sweetheart, I’d never fuck you without protection.”
“Ooh,” she crooned, “you’re intelligent and talented.”
I cringed but angled my chin to my dick, rolling over the condom. She probably didn’t see my expression.
When I moved down on her, my stomach churned. I was almost drunk, but not overly drunk, and didn’t know why I felt ill. I pictured the body beneath me maskless, blue-grey eyes staring up in wonder as I was about to take her, to show her, loving her. The unease whirred.
I ground my teeth together, mad at myself. Already guilt had bled through the façade.
Leaning above her ear, I fell into my fantasies and thrust into her opening, obliterating reality. “Have you ever been with another man?”
“No one like you, Dick.”
I moved against her, panting at her ear, one hand rocking her legs wide open for harder penetration.
“Have you ever screamed, Vee?”
I pulled out and then impaled her, and she screamed unlike any sound I’d heard.
I lifted her legs over my shoulders, stared at her parted lips, and soaked up her panting moans. After a few minutes, I moved her to her side and lay down, embraced her, and rocked into her.
Ten or fifteen minutes passed.
“Are you going to come for me?”
“I’m h-holding o-on.” She made a sound.
“Don’t. Come with me.”
“Mmm …”
I’d switched positions, high above her, controlling her hips. She contracted, building me up, pushing out my orgasm. “Tell me you want me now.”
“I pick you. It was always you,” she whispered, sliding down her own high as I soared into a hard, body-rocking release, shooting deep into her and thrusting, long and deep, milking every drop.
“Was I?” she whispered as I turned away to dispose of the condom. “Was I who you wanted?”
“My poison apple,” I whispered, imagining maybe—just maybe—the real one was still untainted.
I turned around, plastering a big grin on my face. The girl in the mask was drunk enough to mumble and smile.
“Sweet, forbidden apple,” I whispered again, glancing through the break in leaves to the two pillars beside the French doors.
• • •
The guys and I regrouped outside—some of them returning from corners of the property—and we shared two bottles of whiskey between us. The next minutes and hours blurred together with bets, lack of clothes, pranking people. After that, my memory disappeared.
Between one thirty to two a.m. I threw up most of it. At last, I straightened, staggered over to the garden hose, and washed out my mouth. A hand rubbed my back, accompanied by a soft, soothing voice.
No.
It couldn’t be.
I gurgled, spat the water away from her, and wiped the water off my mouth as I took her in.
She still wore the black lace mask. Mine rested over my forehead and hairline though I hadn’t recalled removing it. It was dark at this grassy bit, and she was hence silhouetted, a slight navy glow from her dress along the sides of her breasts to her hips. Even in darkness, she appeared otherworldly in her draping skirt, lace neckline, and warming smile.
Mud smeared my shirt and pants. I hoped that was the worst of my state—please, God, save me this once. As a consolation prize, the ache in my head dulled and the waves of nausea in my stomach simmered.
“Vee.” I was hoarse.
“Hey, there. You okay after all that?” She crept up to me holding the front of her skirt up and dodging spots in the grass.
“All that?”
“Yeah, you—”
“Oh,” I mumbled. I brushed my shirt and swiped at my face lest anything lingered. It wouldn’t have mattered—Vee just admitted she’d helped me through the whole ordeal. “Sorry about the mess.”
“Hey, I owed you, remember?”
I averted my eyes. Where was Justin? High and out his fucking mind? Passed out? I could only hope.
“Want to get back inside?”
My heart dropped, not getting the memo that Vee likes Justin, not you. You’re too old. Too far out of her league.
We walked back in, and I hung a few steps behind her. Justin had moved onto beers, chatting amongst his group of friends on the stretch sofa watching a late-night horror movie. An ear-piercing scream drowned out the large room, drawing everyone’s attention to the screen. And I, now lined shoulder-to-arm next to Vee, stood sandwiched between the door and TV on either side.
Justin’s eyes narrowed on us despite the gory scene. Anger ran down his shoulders to his clasped grip around the sofa arm. He scoured me up and down with a burning glare. I didn’t have to look over myself to picture what he saw.
Fake-Vee had tugged my tie loose. I’d left a couple of buttons undone. There were red stains on my shirt and pants I hoped didn’t look like lipstick, and one side of my shirt was un-tucked. I combed unruly tufts of hair in place, but they fell back.
I crossed the distance and tapped his arm, shouting, “I was looking for you. Want to head home? I’ll pay for a cab. I spewed up everywhere.”
He cringed, scooting fully back. I bit my lip, hiding a grin. Better than the alternative running through his mind.
But he agreed anyway. Was it a free ride that tempted him? Or maybe it was Vee waiting for him by the door. He stood, stumbling. I lifted his arm over my shoulder and helped carry him to the door. The smile had drooped into a sleepy grin. He seemed high and drunk.
And, hopefully, a quiet pain in the ass.
I called a cab from my mobile phone, and the wait took forever since the bastards didn’t arrive with any sort of urgency for youths this early on a Sunday morning.
Justin sat on the curb with his legs scooped up in his hands hip-to-hip to Vee, and amongst lame jokes, insistent nudges at his not-funny jokes, and whispers to her, I discovered he would not be a quiet pain in the ass.
Unfortunately.
But at least there wasn’t any kissing.
I sat a good couple of metres down and pretended to play a game on my phone.
• • •
Vee got in one side of the backseat, and Justin fell into the other side and would have face-planted her lap if not for her quick hands.
I pulled him out and sat him in the passenger seat.
“Convenient,” he muttered, drowsy, but with a hiss to his tone.
“Dude, you’ll throw up all over the back. You don’t get carsick in the front. And tonight is not the night to test your stomach’s limits. Just hold it in till we get home.”
Fisting my loose collar, he whispered his breath into my face, “Just like you did. Tough stomach you have there when you have a helper.”
“Great,” I boomed loud enough for everyone to hear, standing straight. “I’ll just sit in the back then.”
Probably frustrated, Justin fiddled with the radio. To the cabbie’s credit, he didn’t complain once while we heard all six stations twice over in the span of a minute. It only stopped when he slumped back against the seat, snores snarling from his lips.
Vee faced her side window, and I was squashed in mine thanks to Justin. He had suggested that if he had plenty of leg room he might not puke. Bull, but I didn’t want to carry on. The seat fit between my legs, my knees spr
ead wide apart. I had to shuck up my pant legs to allow the fit. I couldn’t sit the only other way facing Vee. It seemed creepy given her intense interest out the window. So I rested my elbow on the door.
The trees blurred past black as midnight under the starless sky. The emptiness of the night sucked out my thoughts as if they were smoke travelling through the gaps outside of the suffocating cab. High in the air, I looked on it all.
The role-playing under the Eucalyptus trees felt like a solid weight on my chest. Passion, ecstasy—shame. It wasn’t true shame, though. As much as I should have felt bad for the way I used an unsuspecting and innocent woman, I didn’t. The idea of the shame heated my dick and deep inside, flustered my skin. I was slick at my temples, near my collar, under my arms. I licked my lips and closed my eyes, reliving the way I held her hips open and tilted, so I could penetrate her more fully, faster, slower, and then rougher, so she had no choice, but to fall apart because of what I did to her.
And she did.
That Vee loved it.
Sucking me back to reality, a rush of air brushed my cheeks. The cabbie told us we were at my place. I peered around and saw Justin passed out—not even a waking slap to the cheek would do much good.
“Wait here a sec,” I said to both the cabbie and Vee.
After I had tossed him into bed, I tiptoed out not to wake our parents along the way. Vee was still inside the cab, leaning toward the cab door closest to the house. I slid into the back seat again as she raised her eyebrows.
“Hope you don’t mind,” I said. “I’m cootie-free.”
She giggled. “No, I’m just wondering why you came back in.”
I shook my head. Did she have no clue? “To see you home, of course.”
She shivered and turned away. I would have offered her my suit jacket, but I left it spread over the ground under the masked Vee. Like swallowed poison, the chemical reaction struck me instantaneously. Nausea ate at my gut and anger coiled at my fists, which I hid under my thighs.
She probably didn’t want to say much to me anyway, fingering locks of her hair over her shoulder, twirling the rings on her fingers, face mirrored in the darkness, soft and subtle as I watched it without her notice, worrying her lip between her teeth.
Shh, I wished I could whisper to her, I’m right here, and I’ll be your mirror into a different life if you ever need it. At the click of your little fingers.
“You better stay here,” Vee said as we arrived at her house, the first words she had uttered since leaving mine.
“Sure.” I put on a smile. “You’ll be all right?”
She glanced at the stairs to her front door. “Should be.”
“Okay, good.” I looked at the spare seat between us. I wasn’t sure why.
“Thanks. It was … nice of you.”
“No worries at all. Didn’t even break a sw—” I said, “—no I think I did. Somewhere in the front yard near the hose. A lot of disgusting body fluids came out, which shouldn’t have.” I shivered and blushed, but she chuckled and covered her mouth, long fingers and shiny blue nails the same colour as her dress. My mouth watered, wanting to pop them in my mouth to suck and fondle.
Time was up, and I didn’t want her paying. I threw the cab fare at the driver before she could even reach for it—it sailed through the air like an Autumn leaf and his hands waved about to catch it.
“Sorry,” I said, and he just shook his head with one corner of his mouth upturned.
“Well,” Vee said, “that was convenient. You always pay like that?”
“On occasion.”
“Well.” This time her tone was stern. She unbuckled and opened the door. “I better head in.”
She wouldn’t just leave. A kiss. A peck.
But her legs swung out, and she hitched up her skirt and stood on the pavement, then began her departure back to her normal life, mask on, and secrets intact.
“Hey, buddy,” I said and tapped his shoulder. “Hold on a sec till she gets in.” I had to make sure she was fine until the last step.
She pulled out her keys, unlocked, then, finally, turned back, and lifted her hand. My shoulders sagged with relief, but I beamed. I lifted three fingers and waved goodbye with a salute.
You may take the mask off now.
2
VEE
On Monday, Cara and I paced toward the spot where our girlfriends waited for us during recess break. She struggled with her breath as did I, the pair of us on the brink of jogging. Up until now, we remained purposefully tight-lipped about the events from the party.
We had no idea …
Who got whose number?
Who kissed whom?
Did anyone get fingered by a guy?
Cara must have been able to tell from the suppressed grin on my face that I’d received one of those. And I could tell by her all-teeth-baring grin that she’d make my gossip seem like child’s play.
We sat on the boulders of the plant bed in the corner of the building, which had become a regular hanging spot for us long ago.
“So, girlies,” Cara said nodding at the others. She turned my way giving me a personal nod. “How cray-cray was Mark’s Mask party?”
“Sawyer finally kissed me.”
“I got piss drunk with Sawyer’s friends and had to stay at Reneè’s or else my mum would have murdered me.”
Some chuckles.
Cara batted her eyelashes, hoping we’d all commence screaming. I poked her shoulder to tempt her to spill, but she held strong through the other girls explaining every sordid detail about that one perfect kiss and all that alcohol. I let them beg, sitting back to eat a muesli bar before our rest time was up, and we had to leave for class.
Cara would tell me after. We always exchanged.
While they squawked and squealed over the hints Cara dropped, I rolled over the word Rick in my head, wondering what had happened at that party. If I’d known it was he at the bar, the guy who popped my alcohol cherry, I’d have walked the other way. Standing so close to him stole the air from my lungs and pounded my heart as if it had an adverse reaction. He was everything I shouldn’t want. Nineteen, lean and muscled, tall enough that in my heels I barely came up to his lips and a mesmerizing look in his eyes.
It wasn’t that I wanted to look away, but the heat he held with his gaze burnt so fiercely I scalded inside, cringing into myself.
I was not ready for a guy like him.
I kicked some bark with my school shoes, smiling at the thought of future possibilities. One day.
Maybe one day he’d think I was as hot as Cara, boobs up in my face, shapely hips, and a come-fuck-me stare. I couldn’t control the two former, but I was as sexy as a hippo in a Miss Universe contest, so the eye thing was out, too.
“Hey,” Cara said, interrupting my thoughts and bringing me back to the bell ringing. She whispered in my ear, hand blocking the view from the other girls, “I got him to go down on me, and then I gave him a handjob.”
“No way!”
‘He’ was Danny Rocca, and she’d been flirting with him every class. They’d made out on a group date recently at the movies. Cara had gone to many bases already with a few guys, and I was yet to hit second. Was first a kiss? Was second? I was as uncool as they came.
“Yes way. But God, Vee, he was so shit with his tongue. What is he, a cat?”
“No, I think you’re the cat.”
She swatted me. “What happened with Justin?”
I blushed. “He kissed me once inside the party room.”
She swatted my butt this time. “Look at you!”
“Yeah,” I said, walking to our next class, “he’s weird, but cute.”
Cara said nothing for a while, not even a gesture or sound to indicate she heard what I’d said. I looked at her, and she was biting her bottom lip. Finally, at the door she said, “Shame about Rick Delaney.”
“What do you mean?” I asked and pulled her to the side by the shoulder.
“He full-on hooked up wit
h some bimbo bitch under the trees out back. I’m still working on milking it from Danny. I’m never going out with him again, but he knows someone who knows her. I think she was a full on slut and shit, and Rick was a total player.”
“Oh,” I managed and swallowed. What else could I do? I wasn’t shocked as much as I was disappointed. Clearly, I was too young and too nerdy for him, but the rumours still hurt my chest. Some part of me wished he didn’t want any girl if not me.
By that Monday after the last bell and after lunch when I didn’t see Cara at all, she came bounding up to me at the bus stop, breathless.
“What, what?” I asked, patting her back.
She keeled over and held her finger up, heaving. “You won’t believe it.”
“Won’t believe what?”
“You just won’t believe what I found out.”
I thought that I very well—at least—had a clue.
I wish I hadn’t. I preferred my fantasies untainted.
My stomach hadn’t turned once when I helped him as he was sick, but it turned endlessly that night as I tried to sleep.
• • •
I hadn’t seen Justin on Monday at school after the party, but he came in Tuesday, one black eye and a cut lip looking like he hadn’t slept.
I rushed to him to see how badly he was hurt, but he wouldn’t speak of it until that night when we texted, and he said he got in a punch up with his brother.
‘Brotherly shit.’ he called it. And he wouldn’t go into details.
Conversation withered after he built that invisible wall between us, so I said my goodbyes with a simple ‘Sleep tight. See ya tomorrow.’ He sent, ‘Night, gorgeous. XO.’
I didn’t see him the next day, instead dreaming of his unattainable brother and avoiding run-ins with the wrong Delaney. My heart did a funny flip-flop every time Rick popped into my thoughts—dressed sharply in that shirt, thin tie, hair grazing his forehead, and those rich brown, piercing eyes.
Was there such thing as a mourning period for crushing?
The Masquerade: a prequel short to The Rental Page 2
