Average High School Life Ch. 01

Over the summer CC got a job at a gaming and comic store. She had always had some Naruto and Pokemon posters up in her room, but I hadn’t realized she was into anime as a genre. CC admitted she’d always liked the slightly higher ratio of queer folk that seemed to be present in the fandom, though she hadn’t made the connection about why until recently. She hadn’t found any unattached lesbians yet, but she was keeping an eye out.

Unfortunately very little was helping with my romantic prospects either. In what I considered the final nail of my friendship with Bethany, when CC and I repaired our friendship, Bethany began aggressively spreading the rumor that she and I were a couple again. We weren’t sure if she actually believed that (and by extension disbelieved CC’s coming out) or if she was being spiteful. Either way it meant if I tried to approach any girl I was interested in, I was faced with the wonderful opening lines of convincing them I wasn’t trying to cheat on my girlfriend, and insinuating that they were gullible enough to fall for gossip.

It probably didn’t help that I drove CC home from school now, and she was the only one in my carpool. My early birthday meant I was one of the first members of my friend group to get a car, so I often had four or five of them piling in for a ride after school. Now it was just CC parking herself in the shotgun seat as I pulled out of the campus lot behind our peers.

“So you know, we can get into the Daily Double now that we’re eighteen,” CC said.

“Why in the world would I want to do that?” I asked.

“Because you don’t have a girlfriend, I don’t have a girlfriend, and going to a strip club by yourself is hella sus, even for a girl,” CC replied.

“Going to a strip club is such a waste,” I said, “Not gonna lie, I can see more stimulating stuff online, and when it gets me horny I can, you know, do something about it.”

“No real people though, at least not right there,” CC said.

“The real people right there in the strip club may as well be thousands of miles away behind a computer screen,” I countered, “You can’t touch them.”

“They can touch you,” CC countered.

“That brings me back to the ‘doing something about it’ problem,” I said.

“Fine, fine, ruin my fun,” CC said, “You want to meet at the hill for a bit after your tutoring session?”

“Sure but I can’t stay long,” I said, “I’ve got to be at work at 5:00.”

“That 3d printing center isn’t open past 7:00 during the week. Are you seriously going into the city for two hours?” CC asked.

“No. I wanted to get some more money so I signed up to be a delivery guy for Central Pizza.”

“Why not just sign up with one of the apps? Isn’t that more consistent work?” CC asked.

“Not gonna lie, Central Pizza is the best pizza place in the city. They always need drivers. And the horror stories you hear about on those other sites?”

“Fine, fine,” CC conceded, “See you in a bit.”

-=-=-=-=-=-

CC and I convinced ourselves that going to the hill overlooking the junkyard to sit around and scroll on our phones was in some way healthier than doing it at home and just messaging each other. We were physically together, so social interaction, and we were outside!

I’m not sure we convinced ourselves either. It had become a tradition for us by then, and like so many traditions we had no idea why we really kept it up.

“Hey give me your phone for a sec,” CC said while physically grabbing it out of my hands.

“Wha? Wait! Hey!”

“Ohh,” CC said mischievously while looking at my screen. My face reddened.

I couldn’t see, but I knew what I’d been looking at when she grabbed it.

“Holy shit her tits are huge. Fake as fuck. The other girl’s nice though. All proportional. I thought you liked them curvier than her?” CC asked, actually sounding half serious.

“Can I have that back?” I asked.

“No, I’m invested now. Oh fuck! Not gonna lie, I’d be all about eating that pussy too; it’s nice and smooth, but not if I’m getting smacked in the eyes by balls the whole time. Just toss the guy out the window there, girlfriend, and go to town. Isn’t she a little old for you?” CC suddenly asked me.

“What, who?”

“The girl getting pounded here. She’s been doing porn for like fifteen years; she’s basically a grandma in that industry, and she certainly can’t pass for a teenager anymore, not gonna lie” CC said.

“I don’t care how old a woman is. I mean, as long as she’s not hella young, obviously,” I muttered.

“Explains why bio’s such a chore for you,” CC teased again, then said, “Oh fuck that’s her ass! Again, nice to have the whole pussy to munch on girlfriend, but you really want those man marbles hitting your chin?”

“CC…” I whined.

“Oh for fuck’s sake, it’s not like I wasn’t doing the same thing,” she said, tossing me her phone.

I didn’t catch it, but when I picked the screen up I saw a cartoon. Then when I actually saw the picture I could see it was anime. I thought CC was straight up lying to distract me at first; there was a girl in a superhero-style outfit with a boob window and a bottom that showed almost all of her ass around bulky armor, facing off against a demon.

Except she made one attack of some kind that failed miserably as the demon sent out dozens of tentacles at her. The tentacles caught her and then I was shocked as they shredded most of her clothes, exposing breasts literally bigger than her head. She still had a thong on until another tentacle tore that off exposing…a mess of fuzzy pixels. Apparently boobs were fair game but they censored her privates?

“CC what the fuck is this?” I asked.

“Fine, fine, here, give me mine back. Some people’s taste is hella sus,” she said.

I grabbed my phone and stopped the video. Then I heard a weird rumble.

“Is your phone playing sound?” I asked, wondering if it was a sound effect from her anime.

“No,” she said slowly, but she was looking around too.

“Storm?” I suggested.

Despite both of us holding devices with near-immediate links to data gathered and analyzed by dozens of meteorological professionals, we decided the best option was to look up at the sky from where we sat. It was still mostly light out, though the sun was making a run for the horizon at its usual speed. More importantly, we couldn’t see clouds in any direction.

The rumble I heard came back, but it was constant and seemed to be getting louder. Looking over, I could tell CC heard it too. She shaded her eyes and looked toward the junkyard.

“Are they moving something big around down there?” she asked.

“I don’t see anything,” I said, “And that doesn’t sound like a diesel engine.”

Suddenly there was a flash and then the roar got much louder in a hurry. I looked up and saw something coming down from the sky trailing fire. It looked like it was headed right for us, but from the ground a lot of things looked that way. It took us both way too long to realize whatever it was actually was coming down right near us.

“Jay-“

“RUN!” I shouted.

We reached for each other’s hands, proving that people complaining about movies making their characters unrealistically stupid have never actually been in a crisis situation. Possibly because of us slowing each other down trying to run while holding hands, or possibly because of the speed the thing was falling, it hit before we’d run even a small distance.

The shockwave flattened us. It made me realize exactly how much the movies slow down explosions for effect. You think, watching, you’d feel the impact, fly a bit, flail, and then see the ground coming and react. In reality, I was looking ahead at where I was running, my back hurt, and then I was face-down on the ground.

It took a few seconds before I felt like I had control of my muscles again. When I could move, most of those muscles hurt. I groaned and pushed myself up onto all fours. My arms shook even from just that effort. I didn’t regularly do 100 pushups a day but I wasn’t that weak normally.

I forgot all that when I looked over and saw that CC wasn’t moving. She was just sprawled out on the ground, limbs akimbo. I crawled over.

“CC! Cee, wake up!”

I tried to remember the one CPR course they’d given in gym sophomore year and grabbed her arm. I felt nothing but I had no clue what I was doing. I started reaching for her neck when she finally flinched.

“Jay?” she said.

I did the stereotypical relieved hug, startling her. She hugged me back though. We skipped the “what happened?” question and just looked back toward where we expected to see a large, blackened crater from a meteorite impact.

Instead, there was nothing. No crater, nothing burned, no debris. Not even any indication that the shockwave that knocked us flat had occurred; all the trees and bushes in the area looked just like they always had. In a fit of paranoia I pulled out my phone and checked the date and time.

The phone was off. That worried me; I definitely hadn’t done that. I tried getting it back on and nothing happened.

“Cee, is your phone bricked?” I asked.

She pulled hers out and seemed to have the same issues. “What the fuck!?” CC blurted in frustration. She rounded on me and pointed at me accusingly, her eyes a bit wild. “You saw that right? You felt it? It happened!”

“Yes, yes, Cee, calm down, okay, it happened. I felt it too,” I assured her.

“Well then where the fuck is…anything!?” she yelled, gesturing to the general landscape.

She and I wandered back to where I thought the “impact point” of the thing should have been, but there continued to be no evidence of any disturbance whatsoever. I did find an earring that I remembered CC had complained about losing a week ago or so, but I figured this wasn’t the time to bring that up.

“Fuck, I probably have to go to work. Shit, doing deliveries. I need my fucking GPS to do that!” I griped.

““Yeah, yeah, fine, go. Maybe try charging it? Maybe we just ran our batteries out or something?” she suggested, still studying the ground. I felt bad about leaving her, but there was nothing there to find. Confused and uncertain, I left.

By some miracle, plugging the phone in for a few minutes actually got it to come back on. The battery indicator said 50%, but I just figured it was some weird glitch. A quick message to CC confirmed her phone had resurrected itself too, and I put it out of my mind.

-=-=-=-=-=-

“All right Mulligan, that should be it. We don’t take delivery orders after 10:45, so just run this one over and then knock off home for the night,” Bud told me.

Bud was exactly what everyone expected the owner of a pizza joint to act and look like. Round of face and belly, smiling, loud, and Italian. The only thing he didn’t have was the Italian accent, but no one seemed to mind. I’d only worked for him a day, but he seemed all right; he didn’t bother me about my tips, kept checking to make sure I was doing okay, and didn’t bother me as long as I made my deliveries. He was grateful I was working for him rather than making him rely on one of the delivery apps that “rob him blind” so he cut me a lot of slack.

I was smiling as I headed home after my first day. I’d only made about $50 in tips from my deliveries, but I did have a meagre paycheck coming as well, and Bud had chipped in a bit for my gas. I didn’t think it was that bad, though I recognized I was kind of riding high on the good feeling most people have on their first day at any new job; learning new things, doing something different, and all that can even make garbage collection seem exciting at first blush. Check back two weeks later to see how you really feel.

For tonight, though, I just rode the high. My last delivery was near the middle of town, in a richer neighborhood. It was in a new condo complex that had gone up about a year ago. It wasn’t gated, but the units there were supposed to be high priced and somewhat fancy. Unfortunately some sort of money thing had gone wrong and investors or early adopters or something had pulled out, so now more than half of them sat empty.

The unit I went to was near the back of the complex and the units to either side of it seemed empty. It would have been creepy except the whole complex had a bunch of old-fashioned ornate streetlamps lining the road and walkways, so it just looked kind of lonely.

I rang the doorbell (which was an old-fashioned, built-in one rather than a smart home gadget).

The door opened and I almost dropped the pizza.

Miss Garnier stood on the other side, wearing what my studies of various Victoria’s Secret media told me was a negligee, colored blood red. It was mostly opaque, so the outfit itself wasn’t showing anything off, but I saw way more of her legs than her pencil skirts revealed. She had one hand out and a little up from opening the door, and if she raised that arm any more I’d be able to definitively tell everyone whether they were right about her underwear habits.

“Ahh, Mister Mulligan. So good of you to bring me my food,” she said, her accent slipping out as she said my name. In class, it would have made me sleepy. Now, I may as well have been a cat and she had a laser pointer.

“Silly me I did not bring your tip. Come in and wait a moment,” she said.

Bud had emphasized to me that I should never go into a customer’s home. Way too many things could go wrong. However, just at that moment I could have known for dead certain that the next thing to happen to me would be that she would drug me and steal my kidneys and I still would have crossed the threshold and let Miss Garnier close the door behind me.

I slid the pizza out from the insulation bag and handed it to her as she turned (she’d paid for the personal pizza with a card already, but she hadn’t put in a tip.) She smiled widely as she took the small box and walked away, and the noise of her footsteps made me realize she was also wearing blood red high heels that matched her negligee. The heels shaped her legs amazingly, showing off muscle tone that wasn’t enough to deform the soft skin of her legs but was visible when she moved.

There was a short hallway just inside the door with a wall on both sides that blocked my view of most of the condo, but what little I could see seemed to match pictures I’d seen of newer homes, and it all looked very clean. I leaned forward a bit, partially to see more of the house, partially to keep my eye on my biology teacher as she moved out of view.

“Do you like the condo? I would never have been able to afford it on what they pay me at the school, but the banks have seized them all and are selling them for silly prices now.”

Her accent seemed to be getting a little thicker as she talked, and I wondered if she’d possibly had something to drink. Is it racist to assume she drinks wine? I thought, apparently because my brain wanted to distract me and get my heart rate down to something that wouldn’t panic paramedics.

Soon I heard her heels clicking on the floor, heading back for me. I had unconsciously edged toward the door but I froze as she approached. She seemed like she was stalking toward me; her hips swayed as she walked and she had her head dipped so her eyes fixed on me through her lashes. I hadn’t noticed it before, but her hair was loose and draped around her shoulders. As she got closer my eyes locked onto her breasts. The top of the camisole was lacy and I realized up close it wasn’t totally opaque; you could partly see through it if you were close enough and I started debating with myself if I could actually make out the darkness of her areolae or if it was just the way the lace bunched up.

She stopped way inside my personal space; if I leaned forward at all my chest was going to press against the modest swells on her chest. Still looking at me through her lashes, she said, “I’m sorry Mister Mulligan; I do not seem to have any cash to tip you with.”

Her accent was even thicker now; the “seem” came out sounding like “zeem” and “with” sounded like “weeth.” Then she put her hand on my chest. It felt like she’d put a hot iron there.

“Perhaps…we can work out a different arrangement?” she asked.

Her hand trailed down my chest. I was breathing heavily now, my eyes fixated on the hand as it traveled farther and farther down. I glanced up at her a few times, but she just kept staring at me with a slight smirk. I don’t know if I hadn’t noticed it before (my eyes still couldn’t figure out what to look at on her) but now she had on blood red lipstick that made her lips look huge and very inviting.

Her hand stopped just above the waistband of my pants, and I held my breath. I looked up at her again, and she had lifted her head to look directly into my eyes. Then her smirk turned into a knowing smile.

Her hand slid down fast and wrapped around the shaft of my cock. I don’t remember when I’d gotten hard but it hadn’t been long after I arrived.

“Ohh you appear to have quite the tip for me, do you not?” she said with a sultry giggle.

She started undoing my jeans and that was when the thinking part of my brain finally decided to get involved in proceedings again.

“Miss Garnier, you can’t-“

“I’m French, Mister Mulligan; I assure you, I’m very capable,” she interrupted.

She yanked my pants and my boxers down in one go, leaving them bunched at my ankles and putting herself in a squat in the process. Looking past my own member, I finally learned that a thong seemed to be her preferred underwear, although given the thong she had on at the moment matched her camisole, it may not be what she went with when she wore the skirt.

Then all thoughts of her outfit left my head as her fingers wrapped around my shaft and started pumping. She stroked me slowly. My head was already leaking precum and she coaxed more out. Soon half her hand was coated in it. She then brought her head up and pressed my cock against her cheek as she rubbed the side with her hand.

“Ohh yes, this is a substantial tip,” she said, “I am guessing you provide excellent service in everything you do, no?”

I think I moved my head in something like a nod, but I can’t be sure.

“My class is not your favorite, is it?” she said.

“I…I think it’s fine,” I said, desperately hoping my response wasn’t directly tied to anything happening here.

“Ohh you are being kind. But I see you, almost sleeping to the side there. At least you are not one of the ones trying to peek at these, yes?” she said, briefly squeezing one of her own tits.

“Let me see if I can focus your attention better.”

Her red lips opened wide and her tongue came out. It was a little longer than I thought, but any oddity in that was chased from my mind when it licked all around the throbbing head of my cock. She must have cleaned it of any precum, then she licked back up the middle, coaxing more juice out and onto the tongue. Then it trailed down the huge vein on the underside and I could feel it lapping at my sack a little before coming back up.

“Hmmm…the song says I should put a ring on it, no?” she said.

Her mouth opened wide. I was really nervous because her teeth were exposed, and it looked like she was about to take a bite out of my cock, but my little head had full control of everything happening, so I didn’t move.

She moved her mouth over my cock and the head passed between her teeth. It was very odd, as I could feel her breath but nothing else. I hadn’t had a lot of blowjobs but none of the ones I’d seen had started like this either. Finally my head made contact with something, probably the roof of her mouth. She kept pushing forward and I quickly felt the rest of her mouth on my cock as it narrowed toward her throat. Then my cock met some resistance.

That was when she brought her lips down around the shaft. She’d swallowed maybe two thirds of me before stopping. Once her lips closed, I could feel her tongue going crazy, licking around the shaft and along the vein again. Then her cheeks hollowed and I felt incredible suction and pressure as her mouth caved against my cock. She moved back slowly, though her tongue kept moving very quickly.