He was walking up the stairs in the house belonging to the captain of the football team, following the very shapely derriere of the captain of the cheerleading squad up to the second floor, where all the bedrooms were. Not bad for a loser.
"In here," she said, turning back to look at him, to usher him into the second room to the left past the landing.
Before following her inside, Jeff noticed three couples in the corridor alone in various stages of becoming intimate with each other – but then it was a particularly wild party, especially by his standards.
The closed behind him, and there he was, in a room with Marissa Williams, one of the most beautiful girls he'd ever seen, captain of the school cheerleaders and the wet dream of virtually every teenage boy in town.
"Come on," she urged him towards her.
Jeff's heart was pounding, his cock rock hard between his legs: look at her. The long, golden hair shimmering down her back like a mountain waterfall caught in the sunlight, her large green eyes drawing him in, her figure so breathtaking under her body-hugging outfit. And she pulled him towards her – Jeff, a complete nobody until a few days ago.
She fastened her lips on his, kissing him with full intimacy, pulling his body to hers so that his hardness pressed up against her abdomen. As they kissed, Jeff found his hands arriving at her rounded behind, and the enormous need within him took over, so that he squeezed her against him, crushing his penis against her, still partially in disbelief at just who it was he was kissing.
Marissa broke away. She looked at him seemingly in wonderment, a huge smile lighting up her face as though she was impressed with him somehow.
"Are you gonna fuck me, Jeff?" she asked him breathlessly. "Are you gonna tear off my panties and fuck me like I've never been fucked before?"
He felt a little strange then. He hardly even knew this girl: a few days ago, she would have passed him in the school hallway and not given him so much as a glance, and here she was asking him to perform the most personal act possible with her. And he'd hardly said a word to her up until this point. But what do you do when a girl like that asked you a thing like that? She probably had a future as a model ahead of her, you just don't turn that kind of thing down when you're a single guy.
"Come on, baby," she said to him, stepping away and falling back onto the large double bed, "show me the kind of power you showed Russell when you saved his life."
She lay there now, those perfect legs parted to reveal luxurious white lace panties nestling under that tiny pleated skirt of hers. Incredible.
He climbed onto the bed beside her, and his arm circled her waist as he drew level, his mouth reaching hers again to pitch into a deep kiss once again. As they kissed, she pushed his hand down, over her flat stomach that was so warm and smooth where her crop top came up short, but she kept pushing his hand until in moved over her skirt and down between her thighs. She pressed his fingers against her panties, against her mound that was so very hot and already soaking wet, even through her underwear.
"You see how wet you make me?" she whispered, breaking away from their kiss. "I'm ready for you, Jeff. I want you to fuck me like there's no tomorrow."
He thought it a little odd at the time that not only did they really not know each other very well, but they had only really kissed a couple of times and she was urging him to penetrate her already. But the fact was that at moments like that, you don't really think about things too much. In Jeff's limited bedroom experience, he knew that when you had your first time with someone, there was rarely time to think about things, and a man is very open to suggestion at such a moment. He did what she wanted him to, pulling off his pants and dragging her tiny panties down her thighs to reveal the glistening folds of her hairless pussy.
It was certainly an amazing feeling to grip her hips and drive his rigid shaft into her warm wetness – like a wet dream, it didn't quite seem real. And the truth was, he seemed to be moving purely on instinct now: he really wasn't thinking about much as he moved inside her.
He wasn't thinking about anything much when it all started, either. Russell probably would have said something like he didn't have his eye on the ball, but then he didn't know Russell back then anyway - well, not to talk to. You see, Russell was just a mythical figure that Jeff passed occasionally in the hallway, always surrounded by the most attractive girls, always at the centre of attention.
But just because you're Mr Popularity, doesn't preclude you from danger.
Jeff was almost the direct opposite at the time: people walked past him as though nobody was there, as though he was invisible. He wasn't a geek – not in the classical ridiculous glasses and greasy hair-type computer addict kind of a way, anyway – and he wasn't a goth: all in all, he wasn't out to be particularly outrageous or downright anti-social. He just wasn't a football player, and that was what counted at Lincoln High.
After a couple of years at the school where the students just seemed to gather around the football players like moths around a light bulb, Jeff had grown distant, not caring for the superficial nature of society there. He had his interests: listening to music of various kinds, strumming on his guitar a little here and there. But he found increasingly that people just didn't understand him. Ultimately, this was a mistake, but he didn't know that until life became truly lonely.
The correction of that mistake came from the most unlikely source. Jeff was just wondering home from school, like usual on a Thursday afternoon. He had his personal stereo on, his button headphones tucked into his ears to fill his audio world with the sounds of the latest Coldplay album. It was a wonder that he noticed what he did.
Russell was up ahead, swaggering about like he owned the place, which, unofficially, he did as captain of the school football team. He was talking to a couple of seriously attractive girls – cheerleaders, probably, not that Jeff knew who was one and who wasn't at school, not paying attention to that kind of thing.
Jeff saw the car coming around the corner, but Russell had his back to it. One thing about modern cars, along with generally more efficient engines, is that they are getting quieter and quieter, which may make the drivers' journeys more comfortable, but also makes them harder for pedestrians to hear. Russell didn't hear it at all, but then he was laughing and joking around to the two girls who stood on the pavement.
The first thing that crossed Jeff's mind was actually curiosity. Was this prime athlete so focussed on showing off to the girls on the sidewalk that he wouldn't notice the car at all? Naturally, he assumed the driver of the car would spot Russell and squeeze the brakes, screeching the vehicle to a juddering halt in time. But at the very last minute, horror bloomed inside his chest like a rotting putrescent explosion.
The driver wasn't slowing down at all.
And then Jeff saw it: the driver was not paying attention, the driver was too intent on using his mobile telephone. It infuriated Jeff when people used cell phones while driving: it was just as stupid as driving while intoxicated by alcohol because your brain wasn't fully focussed on what you were doing. People would know never to use a cell phone while using a chainsaw, say, but somehow the car is seen as safe. Never mind that the automobile has killed more people than any war in history.
Jeff dropped his bag and ran, not thinking about what he was doing, not considering that perhaps Russell would see the car at the last minute and leap out of the way, not even hoping that the driver would see the colourful football shirt that the boy in the street was wearing. He dropped everything, including his personal CD player, and pumped every available ounce of energy into the muscles of his legs and arms, pushing himself as hard as his body could manage towards the impending collision.
Russell even didn't see it at the last minute, and the driver didn't brake at the final moment because he wasn't watching. In that glimmer of a moment, it all happened, and for Jeff, it seemed to happen so very slowly. He bounded towards the huge quarterback, a guy normally used to shaking off all number of tackles to get that perfect spiralling throw to connect with his wide receiver and get the all-important first down, Jeff leaped towards him and piled all his weight into him.
"Oh God, Jeff, I can see why all the girls are talking about you – you're a powerful guy," Marissa stroked his softening cock, still wet from their combined juices.
"How come you don't have a boyfriend?" he asked her, the first really substantial thing he'd actually said to her.
"Oh, I do," she said casually, as though it was the most natural thing in the world. "He's a trader - works in the city. Very rich. Bought me a Porsche last month."
"And he doesn't mind you…fooling around like this?"
"What he doesn't know can't hurt, you know?" she said, getting up now and straightening her clothes.
Jeff wanted to ask if he would ever see her again, but the truth was he knew that he probably wouldn't. She'd conquered him now, and it was time to move on. It made him feel a little shallow, a little used. He really should have expected it.
At the time it all happened, though, there was no way he could have expected everything: it was all about risk.
The two girls put their hands to their mouths and shrieked, like housewives in early sixties sitcoms when faced with a mouse. At the last minute, Russell turned to look at what the girls were reacting to, but didn't have time for even a quarter turn of his head before he felt the full power of Jeff crashing into him, lifting him clean off his feet to a crumpled heap on the sidewalk.
A hideous crunch was clearly heard as the brakes of the vehicle were at last applied by the muppet at the wheel. Jeff heard this crunch, but he didn't connect it with anything at the time. Only when he and Russell landed there on the edge of the sidewalk in a painful heap, did he realise that the car had hit his ankle, crunching into it with merciless force.
The moment was over soon, though. The driver of the car, a wealthy businessman in a suit clearly smarter than he was in the head, naturally enough panicked and drover away without stopping. He didn't want to be caught in any trouble, he already had enough stress what with his superior not giving him that Deputy Vice Assistant Manager job title and everything.
Russell was clearly shaken from the experience, but was instantly concerned for Jeff's ankle. Ironically, it was a mobile phone that came to Jeff's aid: the quarterback pulled his phone from a pocket and called for an ambulance almost immediately.
"Jesus," was all he could say for a while. What did you say when you were captain of the football team and you suddenly found that you actually weren't totally invulnerable. "Jesus," he shook his head, amazed at his sheer lack of care – especially with a big game coming up at the weekend. And who was this kid, this guy who had come from nowhere to put in the most incredible tackle ever? Who was he?
"Man, what can I say?" That was Russell down to a tee: Jeff didn't know it back then, but the guy was distinctly likable, and it was the honesty that was part of that. "I mean…" he stammered, "I mean…you saved my ass there. Like, I don't even know you from Adam and you risked your goddamn life…"
"Hey…it was no problem…" Jeff said, wincing at the pain of his ruined ankle.
"I'm Russell, by the way," he held out a hand for Jeff to shake.
"Jeff," said his rescuer.
"Christ am I lucky to've had you around. I swear, if that idiot had hit me, he would've probably killed me. Or worse – he could have put me out of the game on Saturday." The little group of them laughed nervously at that: nervous was the word – if circumstances had been any different, Russell would have been the one lying in the street, and it wouldn't have been a broken ankle that was the problem, either. But Russell was the kind of guy who had to raise a smile to defeat tension, and it made Jeff realise that actually, it wasn't just football that made him popular. It was one of the things about life that Jeff would learn from the whole experience after rescuing the most important individual in school.
He went to hospital, though everyone knew what was wrong with him already. It wasn't long before a plaster cast was sealed around his foot, like a heavy and unstylish boot. But the plaster cast wasn't the weirdest thing about Jeff's life in the coming weeks. Not by a long shot.
Marissa waved a quiet goodbye, her grin promising a future encounter, though Jeff thought she would probably sit tight and see how popular he was when the fuss all died down about his live-saving activity. She wouldn't want to be seen even acknowledging his presence if he headed back down to the kind of social oblivion he'd taken for granted before the whole incident.
Jeff lay back against the pillows, pulling the sheets over his naked body in case someone else came in. He didn't even know whose bed it was: the room looked feminine, in a sister-type way. Did Russell have a sister? He had to. Would Jeff be around long enough to find out these kind of details about Russell? Somehow, he actually thought he would. Russell wasn't the kind of guy that struck up a friendship like theirs had become, only to dispel it. Russell wasn't you typical jock footballing genius, though. That had been one of the biggest surprises for Jeff.
Lying there for a moment, his flaccid penis still throbbing in remembrance of what it had been doing five minutes previously, he felt very strange: light-headed, somehow empty. Had it really happened? Had he just come inside Marissa Williams?
It was bizarre. He leaned over the side of the bed, and there on the floor was a little crumpled pair of white lace panties, still moist from her wet pussy. He held them up to his nose: the scent was strong, musky, and real enough. It had happened, but what now? He had a little memento of his encounter with the captain of the cheerleaders, but did that make it all worth it?
Maybe that was the norm now: this world he had entered had people in it that did not sleep with each other more than once before looking for the next peak to climb. He scratched his head: were people like that really happy? Jeff liked women, of course, and for years he'd fantasised about making love to many different girls, but at the end of the day he needed someone he could really commit to. He just wasn't the type to go round looking for the next challenge.
His world had changed, though, and there was no way it would ever go back to the way it was. His world was gone now.
He'd known his world had changed as soon as he had turned up to school the next day, Friday. Applause broke out in the hallways when he passed through. People pointed him out and smiled at him as he passed them. Suddenly, Jeff was on the school map.
It wasn't as though it was difficult for people to recognise who the saviour of the school football team was: Jeff was forced to hobble round on a pair of crutches for a while. It made him feel kind of notorious, which was actually no bad thing.
And people began to talk to him, treating him not just as some schmuck who just happened to be there, but a valuable member of the community. It made him put effort into smiling back at them and making conversation with them, rather than keeping to himself. For some reason, he didn't want people thinking Russell's lifesaver was a boring no-life.
"Hey, Jeff!" Russell and a few fellow footballers were clustered around his locker.
"How're you doin', huh?" he was grinning like a maniac.
"Oh, you know, not too bad."
"Great." The tall football player broke away from his friends and approached Jeff. "You know," he placed his hands on Jeff's shoulders, a position that seemed at first a little close for a guy to be with him, but that was the way Russell was. He said: "something I never said to you before they packed you off into that ambulance yesterday. I never said 'thanks', man. I never even got the chance to thank you."
"Oh, that doesn't matter," Jeff shrugged.
"No," he replied, "it does. I owe everything to you, man. Only thing I have on me is a little scratch on my hand where I hit the pavement. If it wasn't for you…well, at the very least I would've probably had a broken back."
"Ah well," Jeff said, "any time, you know."
Russell stepped away. Jeff was worried at first that the other footballers would be somehow jealous of the closeness of their captain and his rescuer. But they weren't. Their smiles were just as broad as Russell's, and as Jeff would later find out, they were just as relieved as their captain.
"Jeff," Russell said, "we were wonderin' if…well…if you weren't doing much later on this afternoon…if you'd like to come out to the driving range with us…y'know? Hit some balls?"
It was all very strange for Jeff, all this attention. He wasn't at all used to it. In actual fact, he found he quite liked it. So he shrugged, "Sure," he said, "why not?"
"Great," Russell beamed. "We'll see you outside school gates after school, then, huh?"
The door opened, and a young redhead entered the room. She was wearing a crop-top and skirt, too – it seemed to be the uniform for these cheerleaders after hours. But she was wearing white thigh-high stockings that rose up to lace tops just below the hem of her short skirt. It looked a little seedy, but Jeff couldn't help but react to it, his penis stirring involuntarily under the sheets.
"Hi," she said. "I'm Kitty, we've never really met."
She closed the door and leaned back against it. What was she doing?
"Uh…Jeff," he said, "I'm Jeff."
"Oh, I know who you are," she smiled. Pretty, but then all the cheerleaders were – it was part of the job. "I just passed Marissa in the corridor, and she happened to mention you might need some company…"
Kitty stepped up to the end of the bed like a lioness on the prowl.
"How's your ankle?" she asked.
"Fine," he replied, "the plaster's secure, it's just like a huge sock really. Don't notice it's there."
"You're very brave," she said, crawling up the bed slowly. He could se down her top. She wasn't wearing a bra. He felt unreal again, like this wasn't happening.
"I bet I can make you forget all about it," she said with an impish grin. She reached forwards and started slowly peeling the sheets down over his body. Jeff didn't even try to stop her. He didn't feel real, he was in a dreamworld.
"Oh my God…" she said as his semi-hard cock was revealed to her gaze. "Marissa wasn't lying!"
It was odd, he didn't feel at all self-conscious. In this unreal world, countless women could have come in and he wouldn't have been embarrassed.
She dropped down and he felt her hot breath on his skin around his crotch. She kissed the base of his cock, and then slowly moved up until exquisite warmth engulfed the head of his penis All he could see was a head of burning red hair begin to slowly bob up and then down, and past that he could see her arching her back, pushing her shapely behind up into the air as if to give him something else to look at.
But he couldn't keep his eyes open long, sinking back into the pillow as her rhythm accelerated. This kind of attention he'd never had from girls before: perhaps he should just enjoy it.
It was very strange at first, how the girls took notice of him, wanted to talk to him about things they'd normally not bother with. It was quite refreshing to be talking to so many people, and far from being superficial, he found the human contact refreshing and cheery.