Beauties and a Beast

The entrance to the forest was dark and forbidding. I'd rarely gone more than a few feet down the path, usually on a dare from my idiot friends.

The forest was, after all, the one place our parents told us to never venture into, and for the most part I was a good girl. I went to a good school, I went to church on Sundays and I'd never really been in much trouble.

Well, at least until I started running around with my idiot friends.

I'd just turned 18 when all this happened, and I'd only recently met Lynn, who lived in my neighborhood but went to the public school near my house. My parents had sent me to the private school not long after we moved in, so most of my friends were from neighborhoods across town. Like me, Lynn was a cheerleader, a pretty girl who wore nice clothes and smiled a lot and seemed to have more friends than I could ever imagine.

Especially boys, which in my earlier years, I'd managed to avoid. Well except for one or two who, you know, showed me things I'd only imagined. Not that I was promiscuous or anything. I'd kissed a few boys and let another put his hand up my shirt after a church party one night.

And then there was Derrick, the older boy from my brother's college who got me a little tipsy at a house party one night and convinced me to go into someone's bedroom. We French kissed (a first for me) and he rubbed his hands all over me, eventually convincing me to slide out of my pants, which I did nervously, only to find out that he just wanted to see if I'd do it.

We humped a little. I touched his bulge through his pants, and then it was over as quickly as it started. I pulled my pants up, he kissed me on the cheek and we rejoined the party.

I always liked when my brother brought Derrick over to the house. We flirted a lot and made eyes at each other, and one day we slipped downstairs and French kissed and humped some more. It was harmless fun. He had no intention of taking my virginity, and I had no intention of losing it before I was married. Or at least engaged.

So meeting Lynn and her friends was a new experience for me, one that jolted me out of my comfort zone and led me down a dark path.

Quite literally.

My name is Samantha, and my friends all call me Sam, which I detested at first but came to appreciate the older got. It made me seem more likeable, more playful than I really was.

Which wasn't very playful at all at my button down private school. I wore the same outfit every day, except on football Fridays when all the cheerleaders wore our uniforms, something the boys all seemed to appreciate and the teachers all seemed to disapprove of.

I looked pretty good in my uniform, which was Navy blue with white piping and gold letters that said "Latin" across the front, a word which stood out since it was emblazoned across my boobs, which had finally started to emerge my senior year.

We wore knee socks for football, long white soccer-style socks that looked pretty sexy when you got right down to it. I think that's what made the teachers so uncomfortable.

My uncle was over at the house one day, a deacon at the church and a very pious man, and I heard him say to my mother that my uniform made me look like a "little whore." She slapped him hard, and he never came over to the house much after that.

I admit I felt good on football Fridays. My blonde hair was always in a ponytail, and my dark blue eyes seemed to match the Navy and my long legs looked even better with the football socks on than even the little basketball footies, which showed my calves and thin Achilles.

I took after my mom, who was the most beautiful woman at our church and probably the prettiest woman in our town.

So I was at least aware of my natural beauty as football season wound down. I was on the Homecoming Court, which pissed me off since that slut Ginny won Homecoming Queen, accepting the tiara and sash with, I swear, cum on her lips from her quarterback boyfriend who pulled her into the girls locker room at halftime.

Her picture was on the front page of The Greenfield Gazette the next morning. My name wasn't even mentioned.

She won Prom Queen two months later, then oddly dropped out of Latin. Rumors were that she was pregnant, and when she finally showed up again in May, well let's just say that smirk she wore was no longer on her face. She had to finish her senior year in summer school.

The last semester seemed to fly past me as I'd taken all my core classes and college prep the semester before. School had always come easy for me, but those last three months were a breeze.

It was the last week of school when I met Lynn one afternoon at the Gamezone downtown, the meeting place for high school kids, nerds, gamers and generally the kids who behaved. The rest were known to frequent the pool or the pool hall, where they sipped beers and hung out in the shadows with the underside of Greenfield.

I'd seen Lynn around before, and we knew each other's names and had one or two common friends, but that was about it.

I did see her at a party one night with a guy I didn't know. He looked to be a lot older and I think they left early in his car. She was a pretty girl, long brown hair that she wore loose, tanned skin with tits bigger than mine, but not huge. Just adult-sized I guess you'd say.

They were her best feature. She had a funny smile, sort of like she was up to something, and a lot of people seemed to distrust her. She just had that look about her. I liked her though. She was funny and exciting, and like I said, she was always surrounded by people, boys and girls and even older guys who drank and smoked and drove too fast.

I secretly admired her for that. She seemed more free than I was somehow, braver and happier, at least around other people. I'd always been reserved until I really got to know people.

Which was why I was a little uncomfortable when Lynn took me by the arm that afternoon at the Gamezone and asked if I wanted to go for a ride with her and some guy who had a red Mercedes convertible. He looked OK, I guess, and though I knew not to get into a car with a stranger, Lynn said we were only going down the street, so I shrugged, took a deep breath and said "Why not?"

And off we went, tearing down Main Street, our hair flying in the wind, ZZ Top blasting from the guy's speakers and stares from every single person along the sidewalks.

It was exhilarating. And I felt grown up somehow, or at least I felt older. I was technically still in high school, though Graduation was only a few days away.

I soaked it all in, the sound of the music and engine, the smells, particularly Lynn's faint perfume which wafted from the front passenger seat to the back, where I sat wide-eyed in wonder, and just a little in fear I'd see someone I knew, like you know, my parents or my pious uncle or teachers at school.

But like Lynn said, we were only going a few blocks, and the ride ended as fast as it began, the car screeching to a stop outside of Bud's. We were in front of the pool hall.

-------------------------------------------------

Looking back on it now, it wasn't the path into the forest that changed life as I knew it but the stop at Bud's that afternoon. I'd never stepped foot in the place, and the last thing I did before stepping through the double doors into the smoke-filled darkness, was look both ways. The last thing I needed was to be recognized, the pretty little cheerleader from button-down Latin walking into a pool hall, where I'm pretty sure I wasn't old enough to be in but I'm certain I had no business in there.

The three of us walked in, the guy leading Lynn by the arm and me following a step behind, not looking left or right or making eye contact with anyone, just following in their footsteps as closely as possible.

"Hey Rick!" everybody seemed to say over and over again "Who's the jailbait?"

So at least I knew now that the guy in the red convertible was named Rick. I also had no doubt about who was "jailbait."

We walked through the haze to the back of the room, behind the last pool table where a small dancefloor opened up, surrounded by little cafe tables and stools with an old Wurlitzer jukebox in the corner, quietly playing a song I'd never heard before, a haunting song that kept repeating something about God and someone named Davida.

It was the spookiest song I've ever heard, and it made me even more uncomfortable, especially since we were being followed by three or four guys and two skanky looking girls who looked like they could be in a bike gang or escaped from a women's prison.

"So Rick, tell us who your friends are," one of the skanks said, smiling and leering at me.

"This is Lynn," he said, putting his hand on her back. "And this?"

"Sam," Lynn said. "This is Sam. Keep your hands off of her unless you want to buy us a beer or something."

I blushed and widened my eyes at her, basically asking her "what in the world are you doing?!"

Lynn smiled and crinkled her nose at the skank, basically telling her to mind her own business, which amazingly she did, slithering away with her friend and leaving us there with Rick and a group of guys I was leery of.

They pulled up stools and sat with us, drinking draft beers from mugs poured from a pitcher one of the guys had placed on the table next to ours. The conversation was light, something about cars or carburetors or something, Lynn and I listened mostly, her nodding at me every now and then when we recognized a word or got a joke,

It was mostly breezy conversation, interrupted by chugging beers and a burb or two, always followed by an apology without even looking at Lynn or me. She eventually pulled her stool closer to mine and asked if I minded if she drank a beer, and I said I didn't care.

She took Rick's mug from his hand, walked to the other table and filled the glass before coming back, sitting down and taking a long swig, never once looking at Rick, who just sat there with his hand out and his mouth open.

When his buddies laughed, he laughed along, and the conversation picked up again.

"So did you hear about Big John?" one of the guys asked. "You know, the biker who disappeared a few months ago?"

They all seemed to know who he was talking about, so the guy continued, telling a story of how he'd been found wandering out of the forest near my house, alone and scared. No one had apparently seen Big John scared of anything before.

Turns out, he'd taken a girl into the woods and something happened. She was no longer with him, and he was so afraid of something that he could barely talk when the Sheriff came.

A small search party had been looking for her since last Tuesday. Big John walked out of the Sheriff's Office that evening and left town. No one had seen him since.

We sat transfixed, listening to the story of the woods behind our houses, the dark and dangerous forest our parents had warned us about.

And then one of the other guys started talking.

"Isn't that exactly what happened last summer?" he asked, looking around at each of the guys as if we weren't even there. "Some girl wandered into the forest and never came out again? What was her name? Sherrie something?"

"Sharon," Rick said, his voice dead and emotionless. "She used to come in here with that cop. They say he quit the force and disappeared too."

There was sudden silence, a profound quiet as we all looked down and pondered the stories that seemed oddly similar. And then out of the silence, one of the guys slammed his mug on the table, emitting shrieks from me and Lynn, who spilled beer all over herself.

"Damn!" she muttered.

And the guy who slammed his mug down said it too.

"Damn straight," he said. "There was one more."

We all looked at him as a moment of realization came over everybody's face, and I mean everybody's. I think we all said it at the same time.

"Mary Stansbury."

She was a girl a little older than we were, a kid from out of town who was visiting relatives. This was a few years ago, but it was an urban legend by now, the story our parents told us of a girl who walked into the forest with her cousin and never came out again.

Mary, the legend has it, was a bit of a wild child, a girl whose parents had all but given up on and sent to live with her aunt and uncle. No one seemed to know the family, but everyone knew the story. Or the tale, or whatever it was.

The legend had been embellished over the years, told over scout campfires and darkened sleepovers that seemed plausible enough to be considered true, but scary in that it happened somewhere behind our neighborhood and had grown to be a real-life ghost story with sightings reported of Mary Stansbury wandering through the forest, always followed by some shadowy figure that no one could really describe other than its eyes, which shone red in the dark and were seen from time to time on the road out of town that ran alongside the forest, bright red eyes peering from the underbrush as cars swept past, some putting on brakes but never stopping, some immediately speeding away from the creature in the woods.

It had happened with enough frequency to be more than coincidence, or so our parents said, and therefore became part of the tale, which I'd heard myself and so had everyone else around the little cafe table.

"They say she was pretty," Lynn finally said, the first words anyone said after we'd all said the name together. "She had red hair and..."

"No she didn't," one of the guys said interrupting Lynn in mid-sentence. "She was blonde. and she had blue eyes and was wearing a blue checked dress when she..."

"Nope, wrong again," Rick said, correcting his buddy. "She was white as a ghost, with black hair and dark eyes, pale skin and a black dress with a cross pendant around her neck.

"That's what I heard too," I said, everyone turning to look at me like I just shown up.

"Who are you anyway?" one of the guys asked me.

Everyone laughed as I sort of smiled and shrugged.

"I'm a guest," I said. "Lynn invited me, and um, Rick drove us here."

They all looked at me like I had a third eye or something, and I admit it was kind of an odd introduction, but it was true. I was invited, and I had no intention of ever coming back, which I didn't say out loud.

Lynn was smiling like she was proud of me, but it was with a tilted head like, well, like she was thinking of something else.

"Hey let's get out of here," she said, handing Rick his empty mug and rising without waiting for an answer.

We stood too, as if ordered, and the guys all smirked and frowned and gave Rick a hard time.

"Who the hell are these girls?" they asked again. "And why are you driving them around?"

"And why is she telling you what to do," another said, expecting an answer, to which Rick responded with a grunt.

"Fuck off, dick head," he said. "I'll be back."

In no time, we were back out in the bright sunshine, me in the back of a convertible and headed back up Main Street toward the Gamezone, where Lynn and I were parked. We drove in silence. No music, no conversation.

I got in my car and was closing the door when Lynn caught it and leaned in.

"No good-bye?" she asked, smiling that sneaky smile with one hand suddenly on my shoulder. Before I could say good-bye she was leaning in, kissing me on the lips and then looking at me, inches from my face. And then she kissed me again, lingering this time, her tongue touching my lips, our eyes still locked, hers with a sexy twinkle, mine like I was, well, being kissed by a girl for the first time in my life.

She backed away and giggled, waving her hand, wiggling her fingers.

"Bye," she said, sounding like a little girl, smiling that smile before sashaying away, her tail swaying, one hand over her shoulder, fingers wiggling like she knew I was watching.

I shook my head, started my Honda and drove home, half in shock and half somewhat excited.

"What the hell?" I said out loud as I drove home, tasting Lynn's lips on mine with the feint odor of draft beer and perfume. When I got home, I stepped out of the car and closed to door, looking down for some reason at my shorts.

They were wet.

------------------------------------

The last few days of high school were a blur. Exams were easy, so I spent a lot of time getting ready for graduation and, more importantly, our trip to Myrtle Beach the week after.

What started as a small group of girls staying in my family's beach house became a revolving group of girls and their boyfriends coming and going in intervals. I invited Lynn, and to my surprise she said yes, so I was pretty sure things would get interesting down there.

But what was on most everyone's mind wasn't graduation or even summer break but the disappearance of the third girl we'd heard about at Bud's. Unlike the first two disappearances, which were barely even covered in the newspapers at the time, this one had gone viral in the last week of school.

The story of Big John, who has yet to surface anywhere and the missing girl, whose name turned out to be Charlene Moore, a girl from Sanford who was dating Big John off and on.

The authorities said they'd found no real clues other that a few items that could've been left by anyone, things like a pocket knife and a flashlight, a few items of clothing that had been there for years and other odds and ends the news reports made no real mention of.

But there was one cryptic detail that seemed to escape scrutiny from the out-of-town reporters and sleuths and TV talking heads that descended on Greenfield for about two weeks was the offhand mention of a cabin deep in the woods.

It was in a paragraph buried deep in one of the stories in The Gazette, and the only description of it was from an old hunter who'd led some of the authorities, reporters, search dogs and even a mystic whom no one had ever seen before through the woods so they wouldn't end up lost like Charlene Moore. Or Sharon, the cop's girlfriend. Or the legendary Mary Stansbury.

After about 10 more days, the search was called off and the case became a missing persons manhunt for Big John. Greenfield's 15 minutes were up.

We watched the breathless coverage on stations from out of Wilmington and Charleston, reporters who knew nothing of our little town. We mostly made fun of them, along with our mayor and Sheriff and locals who ended up being interviewed on local and national news.

We were basically made to look like idiots.

So between Cops Television and America's Most Wanted, we were just kids at the beach, people coming and going, parties and tanning and cruising and at night, a little drinking (OK, a lot), then some vomiting and some arguments that ended more than one relationship and sparked others.

Lynn and I got a little too drunk one night and kissed me on the lips again. This time I kissed her back, much to the delight of a couple guys who were watching us. She also fucked one of my friend's boyfriends one afternoon, which led to one of the arguments and one of the break-ups and a tense couple of nights with Lynn telling Ginger to go fuck herself and Ginger storming off crying and Lynn telling me juicy details of her and Bobby, which excited me even more.

I was so turned on that last night, I masturbated in my bed with Lynn in the bed across the room. I thought I was being quiet but when I finished, Lynn whispered "Need any help?"

I giggled but she was serious. The next thing I know, Lynn is under the covers licking me clean while I moaned and pretended to struggle but secretly craved it more than anything I'd ever felt.

I came twice and kissed Lynn on the mouth for a second time that week, this time tasting my own juices on her lips and tongue, a sensation I still get wet thinking about.

The next morning, we cleaned up the house, packed our stuff and drove home, Lynn sleeping most of the way and me biting my lower lip the entire ride, one hand on the wheel and the other massaging myself, soaking my panties through to where a wet spot appeared on my shorts. Again.