Natalie's Back

Natalie rocked against him, sensations bolting up and down her spine and a weakness piercing the back of her neck whenever she felt those swells of his crotch connect with the charged, engorged flesh at her entrance. Her eyes started to water and breaths became harder to control. The sweat and water covering her body left her feeling more bare than before, and the solution that came to mind was to take both of Tom's hands, resting by his own hips, and placing them on the rises of her ass. They shouted even louder around them, and she couldn't long forget any of them were there, but she wished they were gone.

Leaning into him, she found a welcome position with her forehead against his, their breaths invading each other's mouth and nose, and she kept her eyes closed. A wet dream she had her junior year came back to mind, when she first fell for Tom Davenport, and heard Julie Rosemont telling other girls in the parking lot about fucking him on the back deck of his parents' house. In her fantasy she had been that lucky girl, and all of a sudden, she could almost believe it was her now—if not for the shouts of approval from the aroused mob.

Her daring reached a peak as her stimulation escalated, and she moved his right hand again, bringing it around her waist, sinking it into his own lap—until the summits of his knuckles were making contact with her wanton pussy. She shivered, her body instinctively retreated, but he moved his left hand again and landed his fingers between the cheeks of her ass; it had only been to support her, but the touch gave her a new charge, and it became the object of new howls from her audience.

Her legs went stiff, her body stretched out toward the ceiling, she shuddered all over with brief but severe intensity, and Nat came on his lap. A few people clapped, those closest to her, but when the cloudiness of her pleasure passed, she wasn't sure how many knew what was really going on. Most of them might have still believed it was all a performance. She bowed her head and let her breath slowly come back to her, twitching the muscles of her ass to make it seem like she was still moving with real vigor. Her eyes wandered up to Tom's, watery from her growing embarrassment, and she whispered that she was sorry. He must have had no doubts, as soaked with warm fluids as his lap suddenly was, and as soon as she rose from him everyone else would see it.

Tom showed no thought about it whatsoever, looking away from her for a moment, then grabbing a cold beer from the table and sipping on it. He offered her some, but she shook her head. Then he poured it right onto his groin. The splash on her skin gave her instant goosebumps, and she went rigid against him, then edged away until her feet were on the ground.

He had a stain on his jeans, as she had predicted—but it could have easily been the beer he had just poured. She felt a level of gratitude that few people had earned from her, and she laughed and swatted at his hand until he shook the beer and caught her in the chest with a small spray of alcohol. She stood again, wondering if people thought he had suddenly turned into a creep, but it didn't matter to him. He smiled at her and gave her a quick flash of his tongue.

Natalie turned to the biggest section of her audience—among those heads she could still make out the gray-black hair of Mr. Franks, her old teacher—and she shook like an animal ridding itself of wet fur. The men mostly laughed loudly. A few more offers for lapdances were shouted at her, but she ignored them. A look to her left revealed that Lou sat on Kevin's leg like a kid on Santa's lap, her legs crossed, holding onto him as she watched her friend. With the back of a hand, Nat brushed away the thicker droplets of beer, from the top of her breasts all the way down to the sparse nest of soaked black hairs clinging to the skin over her pussy.

As she finished that display, she felt a coat land on her shoulders, a sport jacket that didn't do much to cover the very bottom of her pelvis, but it gave her some semblance of a shield. Tom stood behind her, giving her a nudge forward until she began to walk, and they sidestepped the various bodies in the audience and a few tables until they reached the women's restroom.

"Sorry about the beer," he said, and she didn't know if he meant it or if it was for the benefit of a pair of guys hanging out nearby. "I'll guard the door. You'll be alright in there."

He pushed it open for her and she went in, nodding her head toward him in thanks.

Natalie opened the door of the bathroom stall and hung the jacket on the end of it, then turned to look at herself in the mirror over the sink. Good god, was she the same person? Her skin was red all over, like a permanent burn had changed her color, her hair stuck to the side of her head and forehead, her mouth unable to close as she continued to take deep breaths, and every square inch of her skin damp. She couldn't make up her mind if she looked better or worse than her best professional pictures. She was far from polished, but there was something enticing about her post-climax afterglow.

Her fascination with herself passed when she remembered Tom Davenport was waiting outside for her. She repeated it to herself: Tom Davenport is waiting outside for me. She pulled towels from the dispenser and cleaned her thighs and drooling pussy, mopped up the sweat from most of her body, then washed her face with tap water for good measure. Every time she checked herself in the mirror the scene became more and more impossible to believe. Here she was, not just naked but with no idea where her clothes were, taking a post-orgasm breather in the bathroom at the Peach Pit, with the biggest crush of her life—and about 60 more old friends and acquaintances—outside waiting for her.

She tossed the last towels into the garbage can, wrapped the jacket around her shoulders again, and opened the door to leave.

Several heads turned to see her join the room again, a small number of them cheered, but she leaned against Tom and sighed into his chest. It would be great if the rest of them would all disappear, she thought—but then she'd be left with only Tom, and he might not be so considerate of her without a crowd around. After all, she was just a skanky stripper, as far as he was concerned.

"I'm sorry," she whispered, just loud enough to be heard over the buzzing room. "I didn't mean to embarrass you out here. Thanks for covering for me."

He leaned closer himself, letting her suck in his breath. "It's okay. Okay. It's been about ten years since I've been this happy to be embarrassed."

"You're a real cute guy," she said, disregarding how stupid she probably sounded. "I always... back in high school, I knew a guy... and you reminded me of him. My first deadly crush. I guess I got carried away..."

Tom said, just as quietly, "I was kind of hoping it was me you were thinking of, Nat."

He hadn't said that, she thought. She glanced up at him again, her eyes narrowed, and he only smiled at her. Tom raised his eyebrows.

"Do you know where I went to high school?"

"Somers County Central," he said, chuckling as he reached up and ran a finger along her chin. "Same as the rest of us, Natalie."

"Oh, fuck," she said, feeling a giddiness that matched the exhilaration of stripping. And why not—she had just had her mask, her last article of protection, removed. "I'm... I'm not, uh... I didn't think... you or anyone... would know. How did...? How did you...?"

His smirk was self-assured as she remembered it, and he traced the ceiling with his eyes before looking at her again. "C'mon... you and Louise Kelly... getting into trouble and doing the something crazy... it's about what everybody expected here," Tom said. "Okay, I thought it might be you when you came out dressed as a stripper... but I thought I could be wrong. Especially when you took all of your clothes off, I wasn't sure old Nat had that in her."

"I didn't," she said, trying to smile but finding herself too uneasy as the consequences sprung upon her.

"Maybe no one else recognized you... your hair is pretty different and everything. You've got more of a tan... but I had no doubt it was you when you got close enough to me I could look into your eyes."

"Bullshit!" She didn't want to sound harsh, but he had to be making it up. "You don't know anything about my eyes. I spent two years in love with you in high school, you never looked my way more than a couple of times—"

"Don't 'bullshit' me, Nat... we had that day in our poetry group when we were partnered up by Mr. Hobbs and we sat together in the window. I looked into your eyes while I was reading my poem... I thought that was the nicest shade of blue I'd ever seen. I wasn't going to forget that. I always kind of suspected you liked me... 'love' seems a little strong."

She made a fist and gently thumped his chest, then smiled. "You... what an asshole. Did you like me? Or did you just think I had freaky eyes?"

"I liked you. Kind of. Some days I liked you a lot, some days I just thought you were nice."

It almost made her want to cry, thinking about all the days they never had together. "If you liked me... even a little... why didn't you ever...?"

He turned his eyes to the people mulling about, several of them still checking her place by the restroom—a naked woman wasn't just going to slip away from most of these guys without someone watching—but just when Natalie thought he might speed away, Tom shifted his shoulders and gave her a guilty glance.

"What do you want me to say? I was a kid. An idiot. Either I didn't always see the real you clearly... or I just got caught up in chasing other girls. I should have seen things better. There was a lot more to you than them."

"Well, now you've seen it all," she whispered, grinning broadly. She tapped his cheek.

They returned to the floor amidst louder hoots and hollers, but Natalie wanted to stay under a blanket the whole time, using Tom's jacket as a substitute. When she brought her shoulders together, her ass peeked out from the back, but she supposed modesty was long gone by now. There stood Lou, near the man of the hour, with her hands on her hips and not hiding under anything at all.

The beaming smile she shot her friend said she read the whole situation, Tom's hanging closely to her and her flushed red state, and no story Natalie made up would deter her from the truth.

"Are you doing okay? I was a little worried..." After Nat only nodded, Lou looked around the room and gave her a doubtful grin. "Look... tell me if this doesn't work for you... but I wanted to go out to the SUV, get dressed, and come back in here to share a few drinks with the guys."

Indeed—she had her eye on one of them, Natalie didn't doubt, but she couldn't say which one... or if it was just one. It would be terrible of Natalie to cast a stone in such a situation, she knew. But the last thing she wanted to do was hang around these leering eyes for another hour or two.

"Yeah... jeez, I hate to be a bitch, Lou, you know that, but... if I can just get a quick ride back to my car... can I...?"

"Oh, sure..."

"Lou, I'd be happy to take her," Tom interrupted, and he checked Natalie to see if it was alright with her. "I'll make sure she gets where she's going."

Lou only nodded in reply, and bless her, she kept her stupid smile on the restrained side.

The two of them started to leave, sneaking past a few of the guys who were hanging out around naked Lou, but the sound of Alan's microphone slowed everybody down.

"Goddamn, that was a hell of a show... better than the version of The Sound of Music we put on senior year," he said, and a few drunks agreed noisily with him. "Friends, we've had two absolutely beautiful... unbelievably brave ladies with us tonight... we would be a bunch of fuck-ups if we didn't show them how much we appreciated their show tonight—and hey, don't touch that money, except to put it in the tip jar there, right? Can we get a...? That's it... more... louder!" The applause, even if coerced, was an avalanche of their admiration, and Natalie lingered long enough to accept it gracefully. Alan continued, "That's great. Great. So... as I said, you may know our own Lulu... Somers County Central high graduate Louise Kelly!"

Taking the microphone, Lou cooed in a breathy voice, "I'm glad you could see me come so far..." The few boos she received were drowned out by the powerful whistles, and she laughed; then she urged Natalie to step closer, and her friend reluctantly did so. "I couldn't have done it alone, of course—I can only handle so many guys at once, right? So that's why I want to thank my last-minute lifesaver. Miss Nas—"

Nat yanked the microphone away from Lou with a small screech, then she smiled brightly and announced to the room, "Hi, everyone! I'm Natalie Cramer... class of oh-two!"

The murmur rounded quickly, a lightning bolt of audio passing through nearly everybody in the room, and then the shouts and applause and paint-peeling whistles bounded back and Natalie, who bowed her head, smiled wider, and as a final gesture of thanks, doffed her sport jacket and let it fall on the floor. She raised her arms in the air, twisted her hips from side to side, and let a few of them take pictures with cell phones they were explicitly told to turn off during Alan's first speech. It didn't matter to her anymore.

* * * * * *

Tom and Natalie had passed through the kitchen so fast that she had neglected to get the keys to Lou's SUV; when they discovered it locked outside, she turned to him and tossed her shoulders.

"I'll have to go back in, I guess... unless you know somewhere better than my car to go tonight."

"I'm usually more old-fashioned than this... but I feel like I should suggest a hotel," he said, and she smiled.

"Why not? We've got ten years to make up for."

"I'll go back in for your clothes—or your keys—"

"Don't bother," she said, entwining her arm with his. "I'm guessing they can wait until morning."

She climbed into his car and relaxed into the seat, but immediately wished the seats hadn't been covered with vinyl—she was already sticking to them. Tom started the car and she rolled the windows down just enough to create a strong breeze. She closed her eyes and let the wind whip her hair about.

"Are you married?" she asked. It would drive a stake through her to hear he was, she knew, but she wasn't sure it would actually stop her. He took too long to answer, she became deeply worried.

"Engaged twice. Once for over a year. Pregnant once—not me, of course... but she didn't deliver," Tom said, and Nat felt bad for him when she read that he regretted not having a child. "As long as I'm rambling about dirty laundry... I opened my own business, a restaurant, and that bombed very hard. I put my life on credit cards, so now I have a lifetime's worth of debts... but I'm paying them off. And I'm doing pretty well with my new job, counseling recovering addicts. I should have mentioned that as well... god, I hate telling people this... but I'm a recovering pill-popper. Sorry. Just a thing I got wrapped up in after a car accident. I'm clean, though... I have been for four years. I never want to get that fucked up again. It cost me my second engagement and... listen to me, I haven't even asked about you."

She laughed quietly. "I'm an underwear model. I have a pretty nice apartment and just about no time for the single life."

"Goddamn. Pinch me, I must be dreaming."

Nat reached over and pulled a small half-inch of skin from his upper arm, and Tom winced, and called her a sadist. She leaned her seat back a little more and noticed he had a large sunroof to his Beetle that allowed a brilliant view of the stars above them. It sparked her imagination.

"If you're not committed to a hotel... I've got something that might be better."

"Oh?" The deflated tone he used spelled it out for her—he had a naked girl in his car, one who had wanted to get off with him for ten years now, and of course she had changed her mind, it was too good to be true.

"I've never been to Ansel Quarry... you know, with a boy. I always wanted to go."

He nodded, looked her way, then said, "It's a bit of a drive." She said nothing else, so he told her, "But it's worth it."

They took the winding road out of the county, up the rocky, hilly area where teens had been parking under the moonlight for decades. When they reached the grassy space overlooking the quarry, long just called "the overlook" by teens spreading the legend, they passed a small fleet of cars all parked for the same nefarious reasons until they found a more secluded spot behind some overgrown shrubs and a small tree.

Once the car was parked, Tom turned the lights off and twisted uncomfortably to his side to look at his passenger. Natalie shed her borrowed jacket and filled her lungs, her breasts standing out further under his gaze.

They tried three different positions in the car, but they were impossible to hold in a Beetle. Tom kept laughing with frustration and humor, promising her he would get a van one day if he could—maybe even an 18-wheeler, if that was better. She raised her arm and bent it over the top of her head, smirking at him. She asked if he had a better idea than hers, he thought for a moment, then got out of the car, took a blanket from the back, and spread it on the ground by the driver's side door. Natalie checked both sides of the car—not that spies would have stopped her—and she stepped out of her own door and walked around the rear of the car; her pace was deliberately slow, daring someone to catch sight of her nude body walking under the bright full moon.

Natalie sat, legs bent beneath her, and she had no sooner taken a deep, soothing breath of the higher-altitude air than Tom had his arms around her, his fingers pressed into the flesh of her lower back, his lips on hers, his tongue crossing into her mouth. She hadn't known how much she wanted this until it was happening, and every fantasy she'd ever had about him seemed the synopsis to an epic film. His palm found her hip, seemed to singe it with his warmth, and she had to separate her thighs to allow her sex the cool air it wanted.

His hand dropped to the flesh of her leg, climbed toward the source of wetness, and soon his fingers were placed where she wanted them, rubbing her, stealing heat from her, seeming to read everything on her mind through their contact. Nat stopped kissing him long enough to look in his eyes and Tom seemed fragile in that moment, as glasslike as her, ready to burst with his own ecstasy. He bowed close again, ran his tongue up her neck, and she quivered like she was already reaching her apex. The wetness pouring from her began to sink into the blanket.

Tom dove down, prodded her thighs further apart, and his tongue swept over her outer lips until she blurted out his name. He had flopped one way then another on the blanket, as if a fish deprived of water, until he found a more comfortable angle to resume his assault. His tongue was godly, spreading his saliva and her own juices all over her pelvis and thighs, stabbing into her cutting hot swaths through her tight pussy. When she expected she could handle whatever followed, he rested a hand in her black pubic hair, drew back the fleshy awning at the crest of her pussy, and boxed her clit with his lips and tongue, finally settling into a sucking motion on it that finished her off.

Natalie took her hands off his head and covered her own face, cried out into her palms, and came with rampant pleasure. She fell back and thumped her head against his car until the euphoria kicked its way through her body. Her breath barely slowed when Tom rose to hold her, stopping to suck on her left nipple for some seconds. He held her head against his chest and kissed the top of her head.