Good Girls Don'tbyarchibael©
This story is loosely based on the lyrics to the song *Good Girls Don't* by The Knack. It was written in the style of author MichelleLovesTo, and is a (perhaps unsuccessful) homage to her work.
I hope you enjoy it.
This was Sarah's first date with Paul.
She had been giggling nervously the whole time she'd been getting ready, applying her mother's lipstick, slight rouge to her cheek. Mom had been smiling, Dad had joked about making sure he had his revolver cleaned and ready when "the boy" arrived. Ha, ha.
She wore a puffy crinoline under her pink skirt, and it made her feel special. Like a present.
He took her to the diner, first. He was wearing his letter jacket, with the school colors hanging across his broad shoulders, the football insignia entwined with the school mascot at the lapel. And blue jeans, tight around his...
Sarah blushed and stopped that train of thought. She wanted to get her usual, the Super Charlie Burger with Chili Fries, but she didn't want him to think she was a sow, so instead she got a chicken sandwich and a light salad.
Paul told her about the quarterback, and how much of a jerk he was, and how he had stolen Paul's last girlfriend, Penny, and how she'd been a nice girl, but he'd turned her into a whore.
She flinched at his strong language. Something in her twitched. It must be her tummy, as she watched him eat his Super Charlie Burger. She dove into her lettuce and tomatoes in response.
"I'm so glad you're not like that, Sarah. You're a good girl."
That same twitch again, and this time it was definitely lower than her tummy. Well, why not? She was a good girl, and proud of it! She happily devoured her chicken sandwich.
After dinner it was time for the movie. They got in his Chevy and went to the drive-in.
The ticket attendant took Paul's money, and waved them through to the huge field in front of the screen. Sarah liked to park near the front, so she could play on the swings during the intermission. Childish, she knew, but she was not yet an adult. Why not live life to the fullest, no matter your age? Paul parked near the back, however, to the point where she wondered how they were going to see the movie. They weren't even near the hot dog stand.
He did, however, make sure to ask her what she wanted for refreshments before he headed to the stand himself. She asked for popcorn and a bottle of Coca-Cola, and he left the car to retrieve them. Not before giving her a firm peck on the cheek, though. She blushed.
As she waited, Sarah looked around the interior of the car. Fuzzy dice hung from the rear-view mirror. She turned around to the back seat. Had he ever taken Penny back there? No, she had been a nice girl, he'd said. Not a whore.
Not yet. Her crinoline felt funny in her lap.
She stroked the steering wheel, where his hands had held it. It was stiff, and round, and leathery-smooth. She leaned over it, and smelled it, tasted the residue of his sweat.
What was she *doing*?
She sat up abruptly, hands in her lap, demurely. Legs uncrossed, though. The car was no place to have one's legs crossed. There was barely room for it, between the seat and the dashboard. No room for...
The side door snapped open, and Paul was back in the car. Slam. He bore two huge tubs of popcorn and two Coke bottles.
She smiled winningly at him. He leered back at her. She didn't like that so much. She looked away and ate popcorn absently.
Paul took it in stride, though. Not like the time Stephen Coolidge had gotten fresh, and she'd had to dump a bottle of soda pop on his trousers. And then the next day he'd told all the boys in school that he'd "gotten to third base" with her! She had never even paid attention to what all the "bases" were, but she felt certain she hadn't let that jerk go to any of them.
Especially third. She had standards.
Darn it, she shouldn't have worn the crinoline. It was making her lap feel funny again. And humid. She lightly scratched at her upper thighs, and somehow that made it feel better.
Paul was watching her as she did so, and seemed about to comment, when Sarah burst out, "Oh, look, the movie's about to start!"
That distracted him a bit. She needed to. For some reason, the walls of the car seemed to be closing in on her when he looked at her like that.
The film showed a scientist warning of the atomic monsters that were coming up from the Pacific Ocean to invade Southern California. The hero and his bespectacled female assistant listened closely as he proposed a radical solution involving a submarine and special radiation-suppressing ray.
Paul had draped his arm across the back of the seat, st some point, and she eyed his hand out of the corner of her eye as it slowly slid down to rest on her shoulder. She wasn't sure how she felt about that.
She scooted closer to him.
He was watching the movie, though, and not paying much attention to her. Just absently stroking her shoulder, now and then, affectionately, and *maybe* sometimes his breath would hitch as he cupped her breast with his hand. *But maybe not*, she thought deliriously, as her nipples tightened into tight little buds. *Maybe not*.
Sarah shook herself, then, realizing what she was doing... was *letting* him do. She cleared her throat, to get his attention. Mouth half-full of popcorn, he looked a little ridiculous and, she thought, completely harmless. He chewed and swallowed, licking his lips to get the butter off. Her legs squirmed. She crossed them to keep them still.
"I'm sorry, Sarah. That was wrong of me. I know that you didn't want me to do that. You're a good girl, and good girls don't let boys do that to them."
*That's right*, Sarah thought.
"That's alright," Sarah said.
"Well, good," he replied, as if they were in agreement. He grinned sheepishly at her, then refilled his mouth with popcorn and put his arm back around her again. There was nowhere to comfortably put her arm when she was this close, so she just rested her hand on his leg, a little. The denim of his jeans was no insulation from the heat she felt inside.
She watched the movie again. It was hilarious, really. The hero was all skill and style, and had the knack for solving any problem, but he couldn't tell how much his assistant was madly in love with him.
Paul hadn't put his hand back on her, thank God. *Why not, though? Didn't her like her? Wasn't she good enough?*
Her hand slid up higher on his thigh.
He turned to her, now, and looked in her eyes. She swallowed. "Would you like some Coke?"
"Mmmm-hmm," she mumbled, and he handed her his bottle, already half-empty. She wrapped her lips around it, and slowly eased the neck into her mouth, never taking her eyes from his as she went deeper. She stopped when she knew she was getting trashy, and slid the bottle back out a bit, tipping it to drink. Draining the whole thing, she sighed at the refreshment, and licked the rim before handing it back to him. His eyes were wide, and maybe a little strained.
"You're... um... a really good girl, Sarah."
She beamed. "I try to be good."
She smiled and snuggled up closer to him, resting her head on his shoulders, smelling his after-shave. Of course, there was even less room for her arms, now. She put her hand higher on his leg to compensate.
The movie was getting *so* silly. The hero's assistant was trying to tell him how she felt, but he kept getting distracted by other things.
"What are you doing, Sarah?" Her hand was very high up on his thigh. Perhaps too high. She blushed and continued to stroke his... leg...
"Did Penny go in your back seat?"
"You said she was a 'nice girl'. Before she was a whore, I mean."
He was silent. Bad memories swarmed in his eyes.
"Is that the same as a 'good girl'? Good girls never go in the back seat."
"Of... of course not." He watched her as she climbed indelicately over the seat-back, scrambling for purchase with her calves and knees. She rested when she was through, sliding her pert derriere on the smooth back seat until she faced him again. She peered at him, a deer in the headlights. A deer with expectations.
"Am I a good girl, Paul?" she begged, her eyes glistening, near tears.
He didn't answer. He glanced curiously... at the dice hanging from his rear-view mirror? Maybe he was wondering what they were for, she thought. She's always wondered why guys hung them there. What they were supposed to mean. Supposed to do.
He apparently had figured it out, though, whatever it was. He looked back at her, now, grinning. "Sarah, you are a very, very good girl."
Her muscles *squeezed* and her undergarments moistened, and she was terrified when he opened the door and got out of the car, because she thought he might leave her, but he was just coming around to the back door.
She was kind of disappointed he didn't climb over like she had. Probably she hadn't been good enough.
All disappointment faded, though, as he took her in his arms, and fixed his lips on hers. She liked the buttery topping. *I bet that whore Penny wasn't good like this!*
Now the hero's assistant was taking her glasses off, shaking her hair loose, and the hero suddenly realized how beautiful she really was, underneath.
Paul slid himself underneath, and she held her crinoline up so she could watch as he ripped her panties at the seam with his strong hands. He put his mouth on her, *there*. Beautiful. *Oh, God!* She hoped he liked the buttery topping, too.
*Good girls don't do this*, she thought with as thrill as she fucked his face with her slutty little cunt.
*Good girls don't. But I do*, she added proudly. *But I do!*