Average High School Life Ch. 05

As always, the comments and feedback are welcome. I appreciate all the favorites and stars everyone gives the stories as well.

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I acted like going to school on Monday was a mission into enemy territory; high alert, borderline paranoia, head on a swivel.

CC had teased me a bit more about my attitude before we parted ways the night before.

"You're a healthy 18 year old guy. You're getting blown or fucked at your job, and if you hadn't been turning them down you'd be getting action almost every day, women are flashing you like it's Mardi Gras, and you have a decent chance of scoring with a teacher more than half the school would sacrifice body parts for a shot at. I'll grant you a lot of it is sus, but not gonna lie; I'm kind of enjoying the ride. Why don't you?"

And the truth was, I didn't have an answer for that. I didn't want to think it was the fact that the women had all been the aggressors and I was feeling emasculated, but I didn't really have another answer. It wasn't that any of the women were ugly.

Though that was another odd thing that bothered me. All of the women coming onto me were hot. There were some girls at the school who didn't appeal to my aesthetic preferences (though, again, being 18 and mostly celibate up until a week ago I was willing to compromise...a lot). And on my pizza route there were definitely women that were too old or had some sort of obvious issue that would have put me off (like the one woman who opened the door at one point and nearly knocked me out with the stench of tobacco smoke).

But none of them were making passes at me or flashing body parts. If I was just randomly attracting women I should have been propositioned by at least one that wasn't to my taste. The chances I was getting lucky as often as I had and only with women I thought were good looking were...bad (I was still struggling in math, but I knew the number wasn't in my favor).

When I arrived at school it was like nothing had changed, except the obvious. Everyone was chatting and interacting as if the navy blue uniforms were a run-of-the mill part of our high school experience. There wasn't even much flaunting. I expected some of the girls to have the skirt hems adjusted higher or people wearing the ties loose and shirts partially unbuttoned but everyone had their uniforms on properly. I did see the girl Debbie dressed in "normal" clothes, but she was autistic and I assumed she had some dispensation for that, which is also what I assumed for the few others that wore regular clothing.

When we found each other before class, CC and I just looked at each other silently, her in her pleated skirt and white blouse, me in my suit.

"Fine, fine, I know I said to lighten up and enjoy the ride, but this is fucking sus. At the very least the political free speech crazies should be protesting or something," she said.

I didn't really have a response to that.

-=-=-=-=-=-

Bio was first that day and Miss Garnier was reviewing topics that had given the majority of the class trouble on the quiz from last week. She didn't give me any pointed looks since the need had passed. She did, however, catch my attention the few times she set the class to reading something or doing some sort of work activity. I could only describe her look as...hungry.

The only suspicious issue in my other classes was when Victoria Spinner sat down in front of me and her skirt caught on the back of her chair, giving me a private showing of her panties; I was in the last row and the way it bunched up nobody else seemed to notice. I tapped her to warn her and she turned to me with a coquettish smile.

"You sure you want me to fix it?" she asked teasingly.

I paused with my mouth open and then decided to follow CC's advice and just shrugged. She smiled at me and then turned around, leaving her skirt as it was.

She also shifted around a few times during class, the end result being that she had a bit of a "plumber's crack" visible by the end. She stood up at the end and winked at me, suggesting that hadn't been an accident.

I was surprised after that class when Amy DeLuca hunted me down in the corridor on my way to lunch and gave me a hug.

"Oh good," she said, "I'm so glad to see you."

"Um, hi Amy," I said, returning the hug and appreciating the surprising feel of her breasts against me. When she stepped back I saw the reason.

The uniform didn't let Amy hide her figure the way she usually did. The girl was stacked. The way the shirt fit it looked like half her torso was her boobs. Her waist came in but then her hips flared out and pushed out the waist of her skirt nicely, at least in my opinion.

"Wow," was all I said, but it was clear what prompted the comment and Amy blushed.

"Yeah, um...the new uniforms are a little tighter than my normal clothes," she said.

"You look great. But why the hug?" I asked.

She looked sheepish and said, "Well, you didn't respond to my messages and...well I've known people in bad spots and it didn't end good for them. The way you were on Saturday it seemed like you might have been at a breaking point. I just...well..."

Without thinking I moved in for another hug. "Sorry," I said, "I...I mean it's not that at all, nothing like that actually."

The second hug hit me different. I don't know why but I felt my eyes tearing up, and I pulled her tighter. It did not have anything to do with how she felt against me, although in the interests of full disclosure, I also didn't ignore that aspect of the situation.

"I'm sorry I worried you," I told her.

"No, it's fine. Would it be wrong of me to say it was kind of nice to worry about something 'real' instead of all my school bullshit?" she said.

"Um...well I gotta say, being relieved that someone you know might be having a mental breakdown does seem a bit fucked up," I said.

"Yeah, I'm a horrible person," she said ruefully, "Are you okay though? What was bothering you? I know you told me about the sorority and...that girl but it seemed like something bigger was going on?"

"It's kind of a long story," I said.

Her face fell, but then perked up a second later, "Wait, you're working tonight, right? Why don't we chat after school?"

"I have my tutoring session, and then only like 45 minutes between," I said.

"Tutoring for what?" she asked.

I explained about my math grades and how I needed to get better to have a chance of going for engineering in college. She looked at my notes and said, "I could do it."

"Do what?"

"Tutor you! I had this course sophomore year. We can meet up, I'll help you, and then we can chat before you go to work," she offered.

"That...that would be great," I said.

Then Mrs. Bedi walked by. "Miss DeLuca. Mister Mulligan."

"Hi Mrs. Bedi," we both said almost in sync.

"Mister Mulligan, I suspect you will thoroughly enjoy the rewards that come with studying, won't you?" the teacher said with a glint in her eye.

"Um, I guess?" I said.

She nodded and walked off, leaving me with Amy again, who looked at me oddly.

"What was that all about?" she asked.

"I...I'll tell you this afternoon," I promised,

At lunch I got CC up to speed on my chat with Amy and the run-in with Mrs. Bedi.

"Ohhh, sounds like you'll be putting the dick in our Valedictorian," she teased.

"Oh come on," I said, "First of all, that was a horrible joke. Second, it wasn't like that at all."

"Fine, fine" CC said, "but I saw what she's been hiding under those baggy clothes. If she sets down a worksheet and starts talking about taking off clothes for every right answer you owe me ten bucks."

"Are you okay with me telling her what's going on?" I asked.

"Sure; it's not like A-my is the type to spread gossip all over the school," she said, emphasizing the "a" in Amy's name so it sounded like "Ayyy-me". It had become a common joke/tease sometime in Junior year when we'd learned our class rankings for the first time and she was far out ahead of everyone.

"That's if she doesn't think you're a nut job after you finish telling her," CC added, "What are you going to do about tonight?"

"What do you mean?" I countered.

"Well yesterday you were ready to cut your own dick off to avoid 'besmirching the honor' of the women throwing themselves at you, or something like that."

"Besmirching the honor...?"

"Oh fuck off; we're reading Pride and Prejudice in English," CC said, "Anyway, unless you totally bombed our bio test, you have a single French lady who's going to expect a lot more with her pizza than prompt service and a smile. So what are you going to do?"

I was literally saved by the bell from having to answer, which was good because I didn't have one.

-=-=-=-=-=-

I had a much better time getting through my math issues with Amy rather than Will, my usual tutor. And not just for the obvious reason.

Amy's methods of describing the problems and helping me toward the solutions clicked better in my brain than my old tutor's approaches. I don't know if it was just that I was more receptive because she was a pretty girl instead of a lanky college guy, but either way I made a lot more progress than I thought I would.

And despite CC's impression that she was another woman looking to throw herself at me, she didn't remove a single piece of clothing. She actually changed back into her usual baggy shirt and loose pants before coming over.

After we finished with math, I finally buckled down and told her everything that had been happening to me for the past week. I left out the juicy details, even though I saw her perk up a bit when I mentioned my tryst in the maker lab, and I saved everything dealing with Miss Garnier for the end of the story. I looked up at her after I finished talking and got a sinking feeling.

"I knew you wouldn't believe me," I sighed.

"Well, come on Jay, you have to admit it's sus. I mean...I haven't heard any gossip about your gym class and the rest of it, well..."

"Yeah, you think I'm imagining it," I said, now sounding frustrated.

"Look, you're a young guy. I hear stories from the other delivery drivers all the time; women forgetting to do their bathrobes up, or coming to the door in a shirt with no bra and not realizing how much is actually on display. If CC's not your girlfriend I imagine you're pretty frustrated, so-"

"So I'm thinking all these women are coming on to me and they're not," I finished for her.

"Well..." Amy just let the statement hang. She sounded apologetic, but that was only frustrating me more. Then I had a brilliant idea. At least, brilliant in the context of "desperate 18-year-old".

"Come with me on my runs tonight," I said.

"What?"

"Ride along with me on the deliveries. If I am imagining all these come-ons, you can set me straight, help me put my mind at ease," I argued.

"I...I have homework to do," Amy said.

"I saw you doing most of it while I was working on the math problems. Come on. Look, I'll give you half my tips. Is whatever you're doing going to make you money?"

"Fine, I will then," she said.

-=-=-=-=-=-

She did have some homework she wanted to get done, being the diligent student she was, so she left my house and promised to meet me again at Central Pizza. The excitement and anxiety over the whole situation prompted me to dip into my "emergency stash" of THC gummies.

That mellowed me out until I had to drive to start my shift. I saw Amy's silver Lexus sedan in the parking lot, and she got out of it and ran over to me almost immediately.

"You sure you don't want to take your car?" I teased.

"It's so embarrassing. My stepmom bought that for me when I turned sixteen like I was some sort of pampered princess. She was trying to get me to like her because she'd just married my dad. I want to get rid of it, but the lease isn't up until next year."

I was kind of surprised by her reaction but it was also nice that she was humble. Her parents were loaded and she was smart, so it would have been really easy for her to turn into an entitled bitch.

"Well, in that case you can appreciate the janky cloth seats and rumbling engine of my 12-year old Honda," I said, welcoming her like a chauffer. She smiled at the joke, at least.

I got my first set of deliveries, a three-stop. I put the bags in the back seat but Amy claimed she could hold one. I warned her off but she insisted, then spent five minutes trying to brace the bag on my dashboard and hold it with her hands.

I was nervous about how long I'd have to wait for Amy to see something; after all I was only averaging about three "hits" a shift. That's still more than any other delivery person I know of, but it also meant Amy could be looking at a few hours of nothing much going on. She had brought a tablet, I noticed, and apparently had some sort of superpower that let her read on it in the car without vomiting.

She had put on her Central Pizza polo, so she got out and came with me to the door of the first delivery. She got the door so I could hold the pizzas.

"Hi!" she started, and then her mouth stayed open.

The people who came to the door were twins. Blonde female twins with thin, muscular bodies, decked out in black lingerie. It was lacy but not see-through, at least not from where I was. The bras pushed up their tits so they looked like perfect globes with deep cleavage. At a guess, they were B-cups. They also wore heavy eye makeup and blood red lipstick. Their hair had a "just rolled out of bed" look, although my brain substituted that for "just rolled around in bed."

"Ohh yummy!" they both said, in unison, with high giggly voices. Their gaze was in my direction and they were probably talking about the pizza, but my brain was still taking a poll on that.

"Um, sorry, we didn't mean to interrupt something," Amy said.

"Oh no problem honey," one of them said while each of the twins put a hand on her shoulder and then trailed it down her arm, "We were just hanging around waiting for our food...and whatever snack might show up."

I handed them the pizza so they took their hands off Amy, then smiled expectantly at us.

"More deliveries to make!" I said, then tugged on Amy's arm and got her back to the car. She didn't talk until I had the next address plugged in and got moving.

"Are you fucking kidding me!?" she blurted. It took me off guard because I hadn't heard her swear before. She was apparently one of those people that resisted working it into regular conversation.

"What?" I asked, not totally feigning ignorance but I decided I wasn't going to make it easy for her after doubting me.

"Give me your phone," she said, reaching for the device mounted in the holder on my dash.

"My phone is telling me where to go right now!"

"Oh my God you just drive down Maple and take a left at Chestnut, you're not trying to drive in Greece!" she said, grabbing the device away.

"What...Greece? And what are you doing?" I asked.

"I'm checking to see when you put those girls up to this," she said.

"How the fuck would I do that? You were in the car when I texted them the delivery was here!"

"You sent them some sort of a code signal," she said.

"I'm sorry, there's a code I can text a girl that will get her to strip down to her underwear for me? If you tell me what that is I swear I will literally do anything you want, not gonna lie," I promised.

"No you ass, you know them, you contacted them before," she insisted.

I stopped arguing with her for the time being.

The next three deliveries were uneventful; two no contact drops and one guy who was clearly in the middle of a business call. Amy couldn't find evidence of me contacting the twins from our first delivery but she convinced herself that was the explanation and held onto my phone from then on, echoing the GPS's directions as we found my dropoff points.

Delivery number four, however, changed things up. We went to the door of a large house near the nicer part of town after signaling via cell. The door opened.

I consider myself to be firmly heterosexual but the guy who answered the door gave me pause. He was black, and in this case his skin tone gave you a clue why the ancient Europeans said "black" rather than "brown." His teeth and eyes almost seemed to glow because of the dark and light contrast. He was also cut; if you poured water over this guy's body it would pool into rivers between his muscles, almost all of which were visible because he had on workout shorts and nothing else except shoes.

"Hello dear," he said to Amy in a British accent. If she had jumped into his arms and let him carry her inside, I would have just nodded to myself and driven off.

"Hi," she squeaked.

"Do you have something for me?" he asked.

I was willing to bet she had anything he wanted to ask for based on her expression, but then I basically forgot about her.

"Honey, do you have the pizza?"

That voice had a pleasant Scottish accent and came from the woman who rounded the corner. She had deep red hair stretching down to her butt and slightly tanned skin. It was smooth and blemishless, without even freckles. Her breasts were large and perky, or at least looked that way in the green bikini top. Her ass was toned and matched her breasts proportionally, most of that visible because of the thong bikini bottom she had on. She had the build of a woman who worked out but knew just when to stop so she wouldn't start bulging anywhere. She saw the two of us and playfully slapped her husband.

"Oh stop teasing the lass," she said, and pulled Amy to the other side of the door, "Don't mind him, he's a shameless flirt."

Amy nodded, her gaze fixated on the man until she realized the woman was now all but draped on her. Her shoulder was nearly swallowed between the woman's breasts and she had several inches of height on Amy.

The woman looked at me and said, "You have something for us?"

"Yeah," I said immediately. Fortunately some part of my brain, probably the last two brain cells desperately holding onto normalcy, figured out she was talking about the pizza and kicked my muscles into gear getting it out of the bag. That's when I noticed there were two.

"Let me give you a hand," The woman said, releasing Amy and giving her a little bit of a push toward the man. She came over to me and pressed against my shoulder, sliding one hand into the bag to help support the weight. Her hand trailed down my arm the whole way. We extracted the pizza and handed it to the man.

"We have pretty voracious appetites," the woman said, "it takes a lot to keep us satisfied."

"Yeah, um, one pizza for each of you, that makes sense," Amy stammered.

"We like it when there's one for each of us," the man replied, looking directly at Amy.

"Though, sometimes we share," the woman said, moving back to Amy's side.

"We...um...we've got to make some more stops," Amy said, backing away. This time she grabbed my arm.

The two underwear models waved from their doorway, each with a hand on the pizzas.

Back in the car, both of us were breathing heavy.

"What the fuck was that?" Amy asked, though this time she sounded more confused than angry.

"I know as much this time as I did the last time," I said.

"Did they...were they really..." she said and trailed off as I pulled the car out to head back to the pizza place.

"Really what?" I asked after a few minutes.

"You can't expect me to believe they were talking about a threesome!" she finally said.

"Actually I think they wanted a couple swap," I corrected.

"Jay!"

"What? What do you want me to say?"

"I want you to explain what the hell's going on! That...that doesn't happen," she insisted.

"What do you think I was trying to tell you?" I said.

My success rate with Amy around skyrocketed as compared to my last few delivery nights, but this time they were different. Over the next two hours, we had...encounters...four more times. But there were no single girls flashing from windows or giggling co-eds answering the door coyly. Twice there were couples, both half dressed, each very suggestively telling us about how much they enjoyed "sharing." We got two girls again, not twins this time, who asked if we had time to come into their place and help them with a "little problem." Despite both of us being helpful people, we begged off. The fourth was an older woman, probably in her forties, who answered the door in a floor length dress.