Separate Schools Read online

  “Really?” he asked. “You like how it feels?”

  “Yeah,” she said in a surprised tone, like she couldn’t understand how it wouldn’t be good.

  “It doesn’t feel weird?” he asked her now.

  “It does, I guess,” she said, and she sat upright, drawing her long brown legs underneath herself and wrapping her hands around her thin ankles. “Women were made to receive. You just think it’s gross because you’re imagining a guy coming inside your—”

  There was a crackling bubble sound, high and thin and small and it came from between her legs.

  “Oh,” she said, puzzled and looked down. He saw her face flash a slight grimace, and she brought her hands together now to cover her sex.

  “What?”

  “Nothing,” she said, her eyes gazing across at the empty double bed, made up across from them in a matching rose-printed quilt.

  “What is it?” he asked, sitting up now as well.

  “Nothing,” she said. Then: “Some of it’s coming back out.”

  “That’s okay,” he said, “I think that’s normal.”

  “Oh, all the girls you came inside tell you that?”

  He shook his head and looked away, saying, “Come on, you know ...”

  “Porn?”

  “Yes.”

  “You watch porn that shows that?”

  “Not specifically,” he said, “but I’ve seen it.”

  Now she regarded him, sitting naked with the sun behind her in this warm, happy bedroom. Her long chestnut hair hung down on either side of her beautiful face and covered her breasts; her tight tummy bunched up in lines the way she sat hunched. A smile stretched her pretty mouth and her eyes went devious. “You want to see it?”

  “I-I do,” he stammered, his tongue suddenly feeling far too thick for his mouth.

  “Calm down,” she joked.

  “No, I do. I want to.”

  “No way,” she said now, chickening out.

  “Please, show me,” he said, placing an assuring hand on her thin knee. “I want to see.”

  Taylor got shy and giggly all of a sudden, bunching her mouth up and rolling her eyes. “No ...”

  “Please, Taylor ...”

  “Really?” she asked, her brows pinching a tiny line in her smooth brow.

  “Come on, you asked me ... please, show me ...”

  She turned up her nose, her eyes narrowed on him and he watched between her legs as she shifted on the bed so she faced him, legs still crossed underneath her. Her hands came apart, angled at first so only she could see under them. “Oh boy,” she whispered, then slowly withdrew her hands and hid them behind her back.

  Exposed between her legs, dimly lit with the sun behind her, he could see her shaved mound, the soft puffy flesh cleaved by her pink opening running in a wetly shimmering line. A slug-like trail of his semen seeped from her and rolled between her cheeks.

  In an instant, his dozing and retiring erection pulsed with new life and his breath clutched in his chest at this biologically base sight. He’d come inside her. Come inside the woman he loved. It was organic necessity, it was the way the world worked—he’d claimed her sacred space with his valuable seed and this woman-too-beautiful for him allowed him. Sure, conception was almost impossible, but the implication was magical. She accepted his seed in her body.

  “Whoah,” he sighed, and he put his hand over his heart.

  She laughed now and closed her legs up. He wanted to grab those knees of hers and spread her open again, take another look, but he had to be cool here. She scooted her raised butt off the bed and put her feet on the floor, hopping off the bed and trying to keep her girl parts from grazing the quilt.

  “Hey, wait, no,” he called after her. “Stay here.”

  “I don’t want your cum on my quilt, Harrison,” she laughed, long legs taking her to her suitcase. She still had a hand clutched over her sex and now she made a scrunched-up face.

  “What now?”

  “I don’t want to bend over or squat.”

  He had to be the luckiest guy in the world. This tall, thin sexy girl was his, standing by a window with nothing on, her nipples pushed out from her breasts, his semen cupped in her hand where it seeped from inside her. The sight made him feel very masculine.

  “Here,” he said, and with subdued chivalry tossed his T-shirt to her and she caught it clumsily with her left hand. “Now, would you please come back?” He patted the spot where she’d been sitting.

  She returned, holding his wadded up T-shirt between her legs and sitting down on the bed next to him cross-legged again. One hand holding his shirt, the other traced hair off his brow as he watched her. She smiled warmly at him as she did.

  He said, “I’m sorry I came so fast.”

  “Don’t worry, Harrison, I got what I came for.”

  “What was that?”

  “I told you: I wanted you to be my real first.”

  “I’m your first two times over.”

  “It was nice,” she told him.

  “It could have been better.”

  “It was what it needed to be.”

  “You want to go again?” he said, nodding his chin down his stomach, indicating to her his hardness had returned.

  She shook her head, said, “Maybe later.”

  “I’m ready right now.”

  “Not now, Harrison. Let it sink in for me. We can do it again later.”

  16

  With her eyes still watching his, she closed her legs together, pinching the T-shirt in her crotch, curled up and lay next to him in a fetal position with her knees against his hip and her finger running circles in the hair over his ear. She said, “You know I care about you so much, right?”

  “I care about you, too,” he said. It was like she had more to say and he watched as her upper lip pulled in her lower and sucked on it. Then she smiled. She patted his cheek. “We should go back downstairs.”

  “Yeah, I guess we should.”

  It was over. It had been done. It was disappointingly quick, but it was done. And it had meaning, and it had power. He would show her later, sometime maybe in the afternoon he would get her in the mood, maybe even come up here and try again. But for sure he would be laying here with her tonight and despite what Kelsey Kay might say, they were going to make an awful lot of sex noises.

  “Did you get your alcohol?” he asked her now, changing the subject and at the same time trying to hide the disdain in his voice.

  She kind of rolled her eyes, ran her thumb on the edge of his jaw. “No, we didn’t.”

  “All you girls put your heads together and you couldn’t come up with something?”

  “I’m going to ask KC when he gets here.”

  He held her hand and said, “Isn’t that what I said?”

  “We’re just too far. None of our other friends are going to come up.”

  “Did you want to invite more people because your mom wasn’t here?”

  “Yeah, but everybody’s doing stuff already. It’s too late, and we’re too far north.”

  Good. The best part about this weekend party had always been the exclusivity.

  “Ask KC when he gets here, then.” Although he didn’t think that was a good idea. Taylor was smart, but there was no denying he could sometimes see wildness in her. And Shelby and Roxie were the same. Kelsey did drink, though not often. And while she might seem like the roughest amongst them, she also had a level head. Kelsey Kay he didn’t worry about.

  Taylor’s eyes brightened, and she smiled again saying, “Oh hey, you want to see something?”

  Whatever it was, it seemed exciting given the expression on her face that was excited yet somehow laced with a certain deviousness. It had him intrigued.

  “What is it?” he asked her.

  She said, “It’s something I have to show you.”

  As she rose off the bed, standing again naked in that beam of light coming in off the lake and through her window, there was a sound of loud cheers
and hurrah from the main floor below them and he figured someone else had arrived. There was the sound of bottles, a deep male voice booming and he figured it sounded like KC. Great, now he was going to have to deal with Taylor’s continued quest for alcohol. But she was moving now, like she didn’t even hear the new arrivals downstairs.

  She was crouched at her suitcase, apparently no longer afraid to squat. His T-shirt was still bundled between her legs but she withdrew it now, one hand undoing the zipper on her suitcase, the other flipping over the T-shirt and wiping at herself again. She checked to see she was dry and opened the case.

  He watched the muscles of her narrow back work, the flexing of her arms as she rummaged through her hastily packed bag. She gathered something up, something fabric in a bright turquoise color that she bundled now between her small breasts. She looked at him speculatively and he asked her, “What are you doing?”

  She made a comical expression of deep thought and said, “I’m wondering if I should make you turn around first.”

  “Turn around?—it looks to me like you’re putting something on, not taking it off. In case you didn’t realize, you’re completely naked already.” He reached to the top of the bed, unfolded the top corner of her quilt, grabbed a pillow and pulled it down to him. He folded it in two and placed it under his head and up against the wall. As she still regarded him, he laced his fingers behind his head and watched her. Laying there happy as can be, strangely comfortably naked, just like her, though his body was nowhere near as exciting as hers. He was naked with his knees bent over the lip of the bed, and his erection still pointing straight up to his chin.

  She said, “But it’s a surprise.”

  “Want me to close my eyes?”

  “Okay,” she bubbled, laughing now. “Close your eyes and don’t peek.”

  Through narrowed vision he watched her anyway, and even though she assumed he was closing his eyes (and it would appear that he did), she still turned her back to him. He watched the paler globes of her round perfect ass flex as she took two steps to the bed opposite theirs and plunked down one part of whatever her turquoise ensemble was. She said over her shoulder, “I hope you’re not peeking. I brought something to wear to go swimming, and I was worried my mom would give me a hard time. Now my mom is on her way to Myrtle Beach …”

  There were heavy footsteps coming up the steps, male voices talking, but his focus was entirely on the naked young woman who was his, her specter a warbled vision through his squinted eyes. He assumed it was a bikini she’d brought, and he wondered what would be so special since she usually wore a two-piece when she was up at the lake. The color of it was definitely nice, a bright sparkling turquoise like how you would see pictures of the Caribbean shore. The item she tossed on the bed was the bra, he could see two separate triangular cups. They were small. Now she held what must be the stringy bottom and his heart raced at the thought that she might wear a thong in front of all their friends.

  She said, “I went to the mall with Shelby, we went to that store, you know the one on the east end next to the Victoria’s Secret?—we went there, and it might be a little expensive, but—”

  The door to their bedroom burst open abruptly, and both of them jumped.

  Standing in the gap was a young muscular man in a T-shirt with the arms cut off and displaying round, bulging shoulders; he was deeply tanned and had thick blonde hair in tangles behind his ears and below the brim of his backward baseball cap; there was a gym bag at his waist, the black strap over his shoulder.

  Harrison jumped and drew up his knees, hiding his nakedness. Taylor screeched and jumped, almost doing a dance, her knees coming up one after the other and jumping backward. She was naked, at least topless, her two hands thrusting between her legs and covering up her bare sex with her bundled bikini bottom.

  The young guy at the door took it all in at once and he was overwhelmed with hilarity. His face broke wide with great humor, flashing a big white arrogant smile as his eyes sparkled. His vision went laser-focused on Taylor’s bare chest. Without missing a beat, without hearing any of their protestations, the hand that held the doorknob lifted up, he snapped his fingers and pointed at Taylor, winking right at her and giving her a devilish smile, saying “What’s up, titties?” He laughed then, scanned the room and saw Harrison but disregarded him.

  In the moment before he closed the door and stepped back into the hall, Harrison saw the guy was chewing a wad of gum—and he recognized the face.

  The door thunked closed, and he heard the voice he was sure was Colton Briggs’s in the hall laughing with KC, saying, “I think that room is taken.” And he heard KC’s voice, saying, “Huh? Oh, yeah, that’s my sister’s room.” Then there was more low masculine rumbling as the two of them continued on down the hall.

  “What a fucking asshole,” Taylor whined. When she turned around to face him he saw her cheeks had a rosy glow. Her mouth was open and breathless, and she continued: “What’s so hard about knocking first?”

  Harrison was on the bed with his knees drawn up, his two bare feet over the lip. He was stunned.

  He said, “Was that Colt Briggs?”

  “Yeah, I think so,” Taylor said. She was stunned, too, standing there with her mouth open and her eyes bewildered. The bikini bottoms were still clutched between her legs but her breasts were bare and bunched between her two arms as if she presented them on purpose. Is that what she had showed Colt as he walked into their private bedroom?

  Colt Briggs was three years older. When Harrison first went to high school Colt Briggs was a senior, and he was just about the biggest fucking asshole you could imagine. Loud, boisterous, and of course, a bully. Harrison had spent most of his first year avoiding Colt and his friends. He was lucky he was good friends with Taylor, and Taylor’s brother was KC. KC was also one of those guys, like Colt, but as long as Harrison was friends with Taylor he would be not so much protected but ignored. And ignored was good. Sure, protected might be better, but protected came with a price. When you were protected, they knew your name. At least when you were ignored you didn’t owe them anything.

  Harrison stood up now, naked and feeling vulnerable given the intrusion, and he covered his dick with an arm, hand cupping his balls. He went to Taylor, put his other arm around her saying, “Are you okay?”

  “What? Yeah, I’m okay.” Then she shook her head, took her bikini bottoms and snapped them out, stretching the waistband to put her legs through. She said, “It’s no big deal.”

  “Should I say something?” he asked, knowing the answer would be no—God, hoping the answer would be no—but feeling like it was something he should offer.

  “Say what? The guy just walked into a room he shouldn’t have. It wasn’t that bad.”

  “He saw you naked,” he whined.

  Taylor put one long leg through a panty leg-hole and Harrison could see now that it was for sure a thong-back bikini bottom. He felt at once excited, protective, and frightened. Now he was distracted, saying, “Is that a thong?”

  She was putting the other leg through and she said, “Do you think my mom would’ve been mad?”

  Holy smokes, he was mad—Trish would’ve been livid. He said, “Probably.”

  She said, “Aren’t you supposed to be turned around?”

  “Really?” he asked.

  She turned her butt away from him so he wouldn’t see the thong back and put her hands behind her like she was covering her cheeks even though he couldn’t see them. Her breasts were bare. She said, “Really.”

  “Fine,” he said, turned around and then felt uncomfortable again. She was looking at his bare butt, and he was looking at the door where that asshole had tumbled through without even knocking. So while he let her get her bra on, he went to the bed, sidestepping to keep his back to her, snatched up his shorts and underwear, and put them on. His T-shirt would have to go in the wash so he’d pull one from his knapsack in a moment.

  “Okay,” she said behind him, ready for the revelation.


  He turned around, saw her, thumped down, sitting heavily on the bed. The bikini she wore was scant. Two triangular cups that barely covered her breasts, just patches with strings. And her bottom was the same: just a small triangle that cupped her sex, showed off its shape, coming barely up her tummy before turning to a string that went around the back. He was afraid to imagine what it looked like from behind—he asked her, “What ... what does it look like from behind?” His voice was thin and frail and worried.

  Even Taylor seemed nervous, and now she bit the corner of her lower lip with a canine, grouped her hands together below her waist, stayed where she stood and rotated until she faced away. Her whole bare ass was showing. Just a string across the back, a smaller triangle at the crest of her buttocks between the two divots on her lower back that became a string that disappeared between the round firm globes of her pert nineteen-year-old ass.

  “Holy shit,” he mumbled helplessly, the words falling out of him unbidden. He wanted to be cool, say something confident and admiring, but the truth wanted to come out. This was way too much. “It’s …” He couldn’t finish.

  “Is it okay?” she asked, her head turning to show off her pretty profile as she asked him speculatively.

  “It’s…”

  “It’s what, Harrison?”

  “I don’t know,” he sighed. And he didn’t. His eyes were glued to her bare ass and his hand came up and scratched his head absently. He didn’t know what to think. It was true, he wasn’t kidding. It was like his brain just stopped working. The only thing that came to him as the gears started turning again was all the guys that would be at the party would be seeing this. What was she doing? Did she really need a tan on her ass cheeks? Why did she have to show herself off like this to everyone?

  And holy crap: Colton Briggs. He’d just seen her breasts, now he was going to see what her bare ass looked like?

  He opened his hands, palms up over his thighs, still looking to speak but nothing came out except a low, froggy croak.

  She turned to face him again, hiding away that bare bottom. She said, “Is that bad or good?”