Just a Little Bit of Fun – Part 2/2
With every step they took, Chelsea fell for Tyler a little more. He was so sweet – so charming – that she didn’t understand how she’d gone so long without really knowing him before. Every fifty yards or so he’d pause to twirl her before gently pressing his lips to hers. Each time her heart would swell a little more and her breath would catch in her throat. Each time she felt just a little more connected to him, and a little further from the cowardly girl she’d been just hours before.
He led her to a grove of trees just beyond the moon’s reach. He took off his jacket and – favouring her with the sweetest smile – spread it out on the grass so that she could sit.
They talked for awhile about their plans for the fall, about the dance and their friends, and soon enough Tyler was nuzzling his face in her neck. “I’ve never felt like this about a girl before,” he murmured as he planted a soft trail of kisses along her jaw and throat. “You’re so amazing.”
A soft groan was her only response, as his kisses left her feeling slightly intoxicated. She was falling deeper and deeper with every word he spoke, every embrace, and every tender caress. She felt her own passion mounting as his tongue found hers, and could hear the ragged quality of her own breath as it gasped from her chest.
He fumbled with the zipper at the back of her dress and – for just a moment – she sobered enough to hesitate. She pulled back – if only slightly – and looked timidly away.
“It’s okay,” he told her, his fingers slipping away from the zipper and coming to rest instead on her shoulders. “I’m sorry… it’s okay if you’re not ready. I think I’m falling for you Chelsea… I’m in no rush. We can wait.”
She threw herself at him then – desperately eager to consummate the bond she felt growing between them. Deftly, his hands worked to free her from the turquoise silk as she fumbled clumsily with the buttons of his shirt. He unhooked her lace bra and as it fell away, she felt the blush return and her boldness rush out of her. She cast her eyes down as her cheeks began to burn, and instinctively crossed her arms to shield her breasts.
He hooked her chin with his fingers and lifted her face until there was no where else for her to look but into his eyes. “I love you,” he assured her, and those three little words sluiced away her modesty. Her arms went up to wrap around his neck, the bareness of their chests pressing together.
They kissed and caressed – each exploring the other’s body hungrily – as their passion built, and just when she couldn’t handle the anticipation a second longer, he slipped inside her. He moved slowly at first – so gentle and considerate – but encouraged by her sighs and cries of ecstasy, his rhythm built until they were both crying out in union; the tempo of their adjoined climax swelling in the night and making the world shudder and spasm around them.
The night seemed to flash as though lightening had cracked across the flawless sky above, and then Tyler collapsed on top of her; his moans dying away as he started to chuckle.
She didn’t understand the sudden humour, but at first she tried to smile in response. She held that tentative expression until she realized his wasn’t the only laughter filling her ears. As the final waves of pleasure were still washing over her, and the flashing went on, she found her bliss giving way to alarm.
Flash… flash… flash…
Alarm gave way to true panic and she shoved at Tyler as hard as she could. He rolled away to one side, his laughter coming hard enough now that he was gasping for air.
Chelsea sat up – her arms crossing in front of her again as her modesty returned – and saw them.
They stood just barely hidden amongst the trees less then fifty yards away; four of the most popular guys in school – Tyler’s friends – all chortling wildly as they watched on. Matt Lawson stood with a camera held out before his face, clicking off shot after shot…
Flash… flash… flash…
… and Mark McCall – who’d asked Anna to the prom the same day that Tyler had asked her – stood grinning; though clearly not quite as amused as his cohorts; just off to one side.
Chelsea scrambled for her dress, kneeing Tyler in the ribs in her panic. He grunted, but his laughter went on, growing louder by the instant. Just as her fingers closed around the silk, he recovered enough from his fit to reach out and yank it away. He flung the garment towards the trees and laughed all the harder as she scrambled after it – naked – on hands and knees.
From behind her, she heard him shout out, “Aww… c’mon! Don’t you wanna spoon? What am I here… just a piece of meat?” This was enough to get all the boys howling, and Chelsea had to fight off a wave of nausea as she scampered around in the dark trying to locate her dress.
She found it snagged in a bit of rough brush and pulled it free. She staggered to her feet and kept moving deeper into the tree line, not bothering to look back until she could no longer hear the cruel laughter. She cut her foot on something sharp that stuck up from the grass, but barely felt it as she hurried on.
Finally – certain they could no longer see her – she crumpled to her knees and sobbed until her eyes stung and her chest ached. Her tears finally spent for the moment, she slid into the dress – trying not to think too hard about her underwear still lying scrunched up in the clearing behind her – and slowly began to make her way back in the direction of the club house.
She knew she couldn’t face the embarrassment of going back to the dance, but she couldn’t very well walk the eight miles home barefoot. She also couldn’t just leave Anna alone here; not when her best friend likely had no idea about the true nature of her date. She’d clean herself up, and then find some way to get her friend’s attention without drawing too much attention on herself. Anna would help her figure out what to do after that; Anna was good at figuring things out.
She avoided the main lobby – crawling with her classmates – and made her way slowly around to the back of the building. Fortune seemed to take pity on her and she found a service entrance unlocked. She slipped inside and made her way down a dimly lit hall until she came to a door marked ‘Washroom’. She threw the switch as she entered – the big room flooded with brutal florescent light – and quickly engaged the lock on the door behind her before sliding to the floor in a blubbering, despondent mess.
She wasn’t sure how long she sat there’re crying, but when her tears dried up for the second time that night, she felt a decade older than she had while deluding herself about being a princess as the limo manoeuvred its way up the sparkling lane. She felt disconnected from reality – from her body – and hallowed out inside.
She pulled herself up and went to the sink.
The single mirror that hung on the wall there was slightly warbled, but the reflection it cast was more than she needed to see the horrid mess of condition. Her face was a canvas of black smudges and her hair had fallen – the curls had drooped and there were bits of grass and twigs and leafs tangled throughout – but the worst was the dress; the dress that had made her feel so beautiful – so hopeful. Dark green grass stains marred the turquoise silk, and clumps of brown mud caked the beading along the bodice.
She knew she couldn’t go home to her aunts looking like she did; knew the things they’d say and the names they’d call her. After everything else, Chelsea couldn’t face that.
She tore the dress over her head, ran it under the faucet and began scrubbing vigorously at the stains with soap from the wall mounted dispenser. She rubbed until her hands were red and raw, and – with horror unparalleled to anything she’d ever known before – realized that all she’d managed to do was make the mess worse.
Unaware of the tortured mewling that issued from her throat, she made her way across the room to a small storage closet. She rummaged through supplies, shoving aside rolls of paper towels and toilet paper, a slightly rusted pair of sheers, a box of sponges and bottles of hand sanitizer, until she found the two bottles of bleach…
The first bottle lay empty on the floor. The second had been tipped over on the small counter and continued to vomit its contents slowly into the sink. The dress she clutched with ragged hands was more a dirty yellow hue than the vibrant turquoise it had been, and she wept over the ruin as though it were a child she’d just murdered rather than a dress.
She could never go home.
“Who’ll want the cow now?” Anya would snicker.
“Who ever did?” Dalia would chime in.
They’d both puff at those stinking cigarillos as they took turns – like Heckle and Jeckle – belittling her until she felt like something less than human. They’d mock her and insult her, and eventually turn to slurring her long dead mother until Chelsea could take no more. When they’d finally had enough of the sport – at least for the time – she’d be left all alone to slowly drown in her embarrassment. That was the most awful part; even when she got away from her aunts, she would always carry around her shame. There would be no escaping it.
“No!” She shouted to the empty room as she let the silk fall limply into the bleach filled sink.
With her naked back to the bathroom door, she held the rusty sheers as firmly as she could in her right hand. She sucked in a deep breath, and plunged the blades deep into the left wrist before yanking them in an upward motion. She’d expected it to hurt more, but as the blood began to pump and spill over her legs, and pool on the tile below her, she felt only a slight, dull stinging sensation…
He sat slumped behind the wheel of his jeep, watching as the rain fall over the downhearted mourners who’d gathered to pay their respects. He couldn’t go down there to say goodbye; not with his guilt painted so clearly across his face; but he couldn’t force himself to stay away altogether either.
He sipped cheap whiskey from his father’s antique flask and watched the rain sluice down his windshield.
It wasn’t supposed to be like this. It was just a little bit of fun… no one was going to get hurt. He’d never even considered such an outcome when he’d suggested the bet.
It was simple; the five of them would each invite an unpopular girl – a known virgin – to prom, work their charms and do their best to get a shot at the cherry before midnight. They’d each put $200 into the pot; losers got nothing, winners split the spoils.
It was just a little bit of fun – their last hoorah before their high school days were behind them – and no one was going to get hurt.
Tyler had been the luckiest of them all – or so he’d thought – since Chelsea White was actually pretty cute, even if she didn’t know it herself. Mark had gotten stuck with Chelsea’s slightly chubby best friend, Anna, and the rest of the guys picked random geeky girls from their classes.
Matt had struck out early in the night; his date leaving with another guy. Kevin had had a glass of punch thrown in his face by the mousy chick that headed their school’s chess club – he’d never been that smooth, and none of them – including Matt himself – had expected him to win the pot anyway. James had chickened out entirely and cancelled his date at the last minute, opting to come to prom alone instead.
It had come down to him and Tyler, and though Mark already made up his mind not to mess with poor, sweet Anna’s feelings; she was too kind and smart and funny, and every time he looked at her, he kept thinking of his little sister; he’d told no one that he’d lost the nerve to go through with the bet, even while still teasing and cajoling his best friend to make his move. When Tyler finally confessed that he was actually starting to like the girl, Mark got the other guys in on the taunting. Eventually, Tyler caved.
Mark drooped against the steering wheel with his head in his hands as he began to sob. He wished he could take it all back, but it was too late; the damage was already done.
He’d never meant for Chelsea to flip out; never even considered the possibility that the game might press one of the girls to kill themselves; and he certainly never thought that a little bit of fun on their prom night would lead his best friend to take his own life just days before graduation.
Mark sniffled as he looked over the rain battered cemetery to where Tyler’s parents stood clutching desperately at each other over their only child’s grave. He felt the blades of guilt twist in his guts for the umpteenth time, and choked back the remaining whiskey in an attempt to dull the sickness.
It was just a little bit of fun.