Alistaire Too Ch. 02: Bridget & Petra

"Thanks!" I said cheerily. "I feel like I'm on top of the world right now."

"I'll bet you do," she said in that same suddenly quiet voice.

I looked at her calmly. "Hey listen, why don't you come around with my to the far turn. It is where Bridget and I always watch the distance races. Especially when each other is running."

"Why?" Petra asked, suddenly a little engaged. "I'll barely be able to see the finish from over there."

"True," I replied. "But the far side can get lonely during a long race. That's where Bridget needs to hear your voice."

"My voice?"

"Friends' voices. Or coaches'. Or both," I said. "Bridget doesn't need the support like I always do. She's a better competitor. But even she can get lonely over there where no one hangs out and cheers. That's why I'm heading that way. To keep her legs from getting heavy."

"Motivation is a powerful thing," Petra said slowly.

"It sure is," I replied, not looking at her, but leading the way.

I traded high-fives with Carla as we passed the high jump. She still had one attempt left and was waiting while they reset the bar she had just knocked off.

Petra and I continued on around the outside of the curve. She was silent as we walked. We stopped about twenty meters past the starting line, which for the 3,000 was right before the second curve. We got there just as the starter was lining them up. It was a big field. The other school had three girls entered. Since it was the last meet of the year, our girls' coach had entered every runner she had who was eligible. That meant seven runners total, including Giselle Royce, a little blonde freshman who had never run a 3,000 in her life, and looked like she was going to throw up. If she ran a good race, she probably would when she was done.

The gun went up, and off they went. Petra and I screamed encouragement at everybody as they leapt from the line. When the racers curved off around the turn, and the starter wandered back toward the finish, I led Petra a little further down the back straightaway to where I liked to stand for races, only on the outside of the track this time instead of inside, since Petra was not allowed on the infield.

"Motivation," Petra said quietly. "I feel like I'm a prize all of a sudden. It's an interesting feeling."

"If you like that feeling, great," I said in a low but firm voice. "But if you don't, then that's good too. Because you are sure as hell not a prize. Not mine at any rate. Whatever Bridget and her schemes say, you are not going to start or do a fucking thing you don't actively want to."

She looked at me. I shrugged.

"A bet's a bet," she said softly.

"Not for these kind of stakes," I said flatly. Then I turned to her, and looked her in the eyes with just a little of the outright anticipation I harbored showing through. "For these stakes, a bet's an excuse." That got a blush. I liked that.

As the runners came around the first time, they were all still in a single, strung out group. Bridget was in second. She and several of the other runners looked at their own watches to check their pace. I called out some basic encouragement to Bridget, who was running in second behind a fast-looking girl from the other team who wore thick-framed glasses and shorts that were pleasingly a size too small. I stepped onto the track a little, to get closer to Giselle when she came along in next to last. "You are running a good race, Giselle!" I said in calm tones. "You are right on your pace. Just watch your form and chew up a couple of laps here."

I stepped back off the track and Petra asked me, "What are you, a coach? How do you know what everybody's pace is supposed to be?"

I laughed. "I haven't the faintest fucking idea of what her pace should be, or whether she is anywhere near it. She just needs to think that she knows what she is doing. This is her first race at this distance. For her, it is about surviving today, not doing well."

"You do understand motivation, then," she said softly, with a slight smile this time.

"I do," I said with a shrug. I took a deep breath. I thought about what I was going to say next, which in these situations was kind of a rarity, but I do try to learn.

I trusted Bridget's judgment that this could possibly work out. But did I trust it only because I really just wanted to trust it? I mean, Petra was very attractive. Her body was nicely curved, mostly because she had such a narrow waist. Her hips and ass were always nice to look at in the dark blue jeans she normally wore, and her breasts distorted the school logo on the front of the teeshirt she currently wore in all sorts of lovely ways. But it was the narrowness of her waist, rather than big size above or below that gave her the hourglass shape. Maybe more an egg timer shape than an hourglass. A really hot egg timer.

Every girl I'd been with was capable of acts of lunacy, or they would not have ended up with me. But was Petra crazy enough to try being with a dude for Bridget?

I decided it was best to throw away my filters and let her see the me I wanted to let out. Better for the tall, aggressively heterosexual male to scare her off now, than for it to happen in the middle of things. If we started, then aborted, that might kill me.

"I do understand motivation," I said again. "The time I ran to win that race today, even having run two races earlier, was eleven seconds better than my personal best. That's crazy. But today, especially once I took the lead, I had motivation." I looked down at her. "I for once wasn't thinking about how tired I was toward the end of the race, because my mind was completely preoccupied. I was thinking, enthusiastically, about just burying my face between your legs and making you sigh, then moan, then groan, then flat out shriek with pleasure. And then keeping on doing it."

Petra's eyes widened in shock, but I held her gaze. "And the idea of Bridget down below my waist, sucking my cock while I make you writhe in orgasm? That just made me hungry—hungry to win that race. Hungry for what might come after." I turned away briefly, then looked at her again. "But Petra, if you are even entertaining the thought of letting me play along with you and Bridget because you feel like you have to, or even simply ought to, just because I won a stupid bet... Do. Not." Her eyes, if possible, widened even more.

"And," I went on, getting it all out. "I can imagine how you might... That's bullshit. I cannot even begin to imagine how you would feel, doing things with a guy. I can only promise that I'll be as sensitive as I can to any limits you want. No means no, and 'I'm not sure' means no." I didn't add, 'I promise', or 'I swear'. I let my voice do that.

Before Petra could reply, or even react, we both heard footsteps and realized that the runners were around again already. Bridget was still in second, running smooth as silk. Her eyes were on us, and I sensed she had been watching us talk as she approached. We both called out encouragement to her. She just raised an eyebrow at me, and winked at Petra, then she and those sweet legs of hers swung on around the track.

"Come on, Giselle! Looking good," Petra called out beside me. I smiled.

Giselle was in a group of four that brought up the rear. Her eyes were a little wild, as if the amount of race still left to go was setting in. "Come on Giselle! Come on Hannah," I added to our other runner in the pack. "You two push up to the front here. Give yourselves some distance!" I called out as they passed. I figured Hannah might listen to me. I didn't know about Giselle.

After they passed, I looked back at Petra. She seemed more relaxed. "You do come on strong, don't you?" she asked, almost amused. "Thank you, but for the record, a bet's a bet. Where and when?"

My grin was probably pathetically like an eager puppy. "I have no idea. We will ask the Puppet Master, once she wins this race."

Bridget did not win the race. The girl in the glasses was apparently All-New England or some shit, and won by seventy meters. Bridget was pissed to lose her last race in high school. She was taking it out on Peter during the JV race, yelling at him like a drill sergeant. After half the race, Peter seemed driven less by a desire to win than a desire to go fast to get away from Bridget. After he passed by, Petra leaned over to Bridget and said, "Relax, girl. I know your are pissed, but leave the kid alone. Besides, later you and I can suck Alistaire's cock together, and that will make you feel better, I expect."

Bridget looked at the two of us, especially Petra. "So we are, in fact, doing this?"

"A bet's a bet," Petra said firmly, with a sideways glance at me. I was just looking at Petra like she had grown a second head a few seconds ago.

"I was fretting during the race, watching you guys talk so intently," Bridget said. "I was worried that Alistaire was going to manage to talk you out of it."

"Talk me out of it?" Petra asked.

"It's his thing," Bridget said. "He finds something he really, really wants, then spends forever trying to talk whatever girl is involved out of doing it."

"What? Why?"

"Because," Bridget said, staring at me. "He's crazy, and spontaneous, and terrified of ever making a girl unhappy."

*

After the movie, it was an unusual group in our favorite back booth at the Tuck. Beth was sitting on one side with Ben, who wore the sightly goofy expression of a guy who is pretty sure he is going to get lucky again tonight, and still isn't used to the concept.

When we first got there to join them, Petra sat on the inside on our side, with Bridget in between her and me, which made sense, as far as I was concerned. I may have won the bet, but Bridget was the apex of this triangle. However, in less than five minutes, Bridget took off for the restroom, and when she came back, she had shoved me into the middle. I did not mind, but she was still the focal point, and I wasn't letting that go.

Ben and I, whatever sex-drenched thoughts may have been in the backs of our minds, were in a knock-down drag-out over the Braves versus the Mets, who had just split their first series of the season. This was an important debate. The Mets suck, and Ben needed to acknowledge that fact. Oddly, he felt that fact that the Mets were two games ahead was in some way relevant.

"What are you laughing at, Petra?" asked Ben, who was still a little confused about her sudden appearance in our midst. He looked like he was watching his first lesbian date when we first sat down, but when I was shifted between Petra and Bridget, he was just utterly confused. It wasn't a hostile question to Petra, and I was actually wondering what her issue was too.

"You guys are just so cute," Petra said. "You," she said pointing at Ben, "have a bullpen made up of spare parts and chewing gum. You," she then said to me, elbowing my in my side, "strike out as a team more than three times more per game than the league average."

"And?" I asked her archly.

"And, my Phillies get Macpherson back next week, and Julio in early June. Once they slot back into the lineup, both your teams will be left just hoping for a wild card spot."

I swear my dick twitched when I realized that Petra actually knew baseball. Here I was, sitting mashed up against a hot, bi-curious lesbian who it turned out had readMoneyball... twice.

And it seemed that she was quite bi-curious. My dick twitched a lot more when I felt her hand start stroking the inside of my thigh under the table.

Our conversation was soon tangled up in the endless debate of slugging versus OBP. I quickly realized however that we had completely left Bridget and Beth out, since neither, in one of the few faults that they shared, gave two shits about America's Pastime.

I took a quick look at each of them and saw them staring at each other silently, like two gunfighters waiting for the other to make a move. I cocked an eyebrow in inquiry toward Beth. She just winked at me evilly. Bridget leaned forward in the booth beside me, toward Beth. This hid what her hand could do under the table, and I now had a second hand kneading my other inner thigh.

After a moment, I felt Bridget's fingers brush Petra's. She shot a quiet look over her shoulder, then returned to her stare down with Beth. However, under the table, she grabbed Petra's hand and moved it up to place it firmly on my suddenly hardening lap.

Petra continued to smoothly argue with Ben about the Phillies' own bullpen problems while she seemed to happily massage my cock through my pants. This was the greatest baseball bull session I'd ever been a part of.

Suddenly, Beth slammed her fist down on the table between her and Bridget. Bridget stared at it, then extended her own fist. They were playing Rock, Paper, Scissors, and I was dawningly aware that it was bad that Beth won the first round. I realized what was happening when Beth won again and hissed a quiet, "Yessss," while pumping her fist.

"Hey Ben," Beth said. "Walk me over to the art room?" She slid out of the booth, and it took Ben almost three-quarters of a second to realize what was up and bail from our conversation. The two ambled off at a hell of a fast pace, out of the Tuck.

"Huh," Petra said. "Did you guys happen to know that those two are doing each other?"

"That's quite the deduction," Bridget said, sliding out of my side of the booth and shifting to the other bench to face Petra and me. I was fine with the shift, but less so with the fact that Petra removed her hand from my lap, where she had been idly exploring what she probably thought was my full erection. "Mind telling us why you think that?" Bridget asked.

"Please. Beth wins a Roshambo battle with you over something, and practically drags Ben out of here. Ben, a baseball stat-head, abandons a perfectly entertaining conversation instantly and takes off after her like only a guy who is about to get laid would do."

Bridget and I laughed at each other.

"I take it that I am right."

"Yes," I sighed. "Unfortunately."

"What? I thought they were both your friends," Petra said uneasily.

"They are," Bridget said. "Alistaire put them together."

"I may have helped..."

"Shut up, Alistaire. Petra, we are unhappy because those two just left to occupy the best place any of us know of on campus for a little sound-proof privacy."

"Leaving us with a big problem," I sighed. I took a risk and lightly stroked the outside of Petra's leg, down by the knee. She just as wordlessly took my hand and slid it up on top of her thigh.

Petra just shrugged. "Fallout shelter," she suggested, as if that was in any way a reasonable thing for someone to say.

"There's a bomb shelter here?" I asked, amazed.

"We have been here two years longer than you," Bridget said. "Where did you find a fallout shelter?"

"I'm guessing that you two are interested in going there?"

I had my hand on Petra's bare knee, and Bridget's foot was running up and down my calf. "I am interested in exploring this place, right now," I said firmly.

We all chuckled and slid out of the Tuck. Petra led us through the basement and right to the door to the substage of the auditorium where we had all just watched the movie earlier.

"This is the sub-stage," I said, disappointed. "People come down here all the time."

Petra just smiled, and walked over to the wardrobe cases. She tugged the middle one out and slid behind. There was a heavy, metal door behind it. It had a faded yellow radiation symbol stenciled on it.

Well, shit.

I turned the knob. It did not move. "It's locked," I complained.

"Just pull," Petra sighed and pressed against me to open the door. We all slid in, tugging the wardrobe almost back into place behind us.

There were four light fixtures inside, one of which had a working bulb. The dark underground space had surprisingly fresh air. There were benches and dusty boxes everywhere. We stared around in silence for a moment.

"I think," Bridget said slyly, "at some point tonight, we are going to need to role play a little 'Nuclear War is Over, Time to Repopulate the Species' situation..."

My Male Instinct thought that was a fabulous idea, but I was still concerned about Petra, even though she was motivated enough to show us this place. That confused me. And confusion worried me.

I turned to Petra. "Look, I know you seem relaxed now and all, but I still want to make sure you are going to be okay."

Petra traded looks with Bridget.

"I mean," I blurted on. "I guess I mean that experimenting with a guy must be weird for a lesbian and..."

Petra shut me up by kissing me. I realized that she really knew how to kiss when my toes decided to bunch up inside my shoes. Her tongue delicately snaked into my mouth and gently caressed my lips. I figured that one thing that everybody did was French... Then I felt her hand rub down the front of my pants again.

She broke the kiss and smiled at me. "You are being really sweet, Alistaire, but I am not a lesbian."

"What? I... I thought... Everybody..."

"Yeah," Petra said in sour amusement. "Everybody 'thinks'. Look, I only transferred here last year, just like Beth. I didn't really look for any guys here, since I still had two sort of boyfriends at home. I lost a year of school to kicking cancer's ass when I was ten, so I'm a year older than all you guys and was already eighteen when I came here as a Junior. In the spring last year, I finally went out with... a guy. I fully expected to have sex with him, but in the end, he made some moves that made me decide not to. And I made that decision at a very late point in the proceedings, which I can see was a bit frustrating for him. He didn't take his blue balls well, and decided to tell everybody that I was a lesbian. I think he probably believed it."

"You didn't just tell people you were not?" I asked, puzzled.

"I didn't know!" Petra laughed. "I wasn't really looking for dates, and the story spread so fast, everybody believed it in days. The funny thing is, I'm pretty sure everybody was bending over so far backward to be 'accepting' of my sexual orientation, they didn't want to say anything to me about it. I went almost six months of school time, not knowing I was the official semi-closeted lesbian around here." She laughed at the whole situation, and I was surprised to hear that she didn't sound bitter.

I thought that she should have been pissed. I was pissed. "Who was it?" I asked, intently.

"Don't tell him!" Bridget said quickly.

"What?" Petra asked.

"Who was it?" I ground out again.

"Carla told me about this," Bridget said to Petra, as if I wasn't there. Cool as all the girls I knew were, they did tend to still treat me sometimes like a pet or piece of furniture. "Look at him. He's ready to go kick that guy's ass right now. She said it was kind of hot."

Petra was looking at me. I was irritated both because they were examining me like a lab experiment, and because I still hadn't gotten an answer.

"Relax, Alistaire. He graduated last year," Petra said. She shrugged. "But I really do appreciate the sentiment."

I relaxed. A little. Bridget was not wrong. I needed to work on filtering the Male Instinct in this area too, or I'd get my still fairly scrawny ass kicked thoroughly at some point.

Petra seemed to feel that a change of subject was in order, though I was still curious about a lot. "Isn't this cool down here?" she said, waving around.

It was dark, and plenty creepy, if you asked me. I imagined a couple hundred kids and faculty trying to cram in here to hide from nuclear bombs. I shuddered at the scenario, and shuddered more at the cramped conditions I imagined. "I hope there are more of these around campus," I said. "You would never fit all of the school in here."