Lifesaver

Throughout the day, he kept getting sideways glances, even from the most attractive females in school, the kind of glances that made his cheeks burn and the hairs rise on the back of his neck. What was going on?

It was a bit of a relief when the final school bell sounded and everyone began filing out towards the school entrance. For a moment, he assumed Russell would probably forget about going out to the golfing range, and things would slowly turn back to normal as the football captain generally lost interest in his 'lifesaver'. But no: there he was, waiting with a couple of girls at the school gate, tossing his car keys up and down in his hand.

"Hey, bud, how's it going? You ready to smack some balls, huh?"

"Yeah," Jeff couldn't help but smile. Heck, while he was in favour, why not enjoy it?

They drove out to the driving range, a fairly new place out in the suburbs. While in the car, Jeff remained fairly quiet while Russell excitedly went through details about the football game the next day. It seemed it was a big one, against a nearby high school whose team was said to be dabbling in illegal drugs and steroids. The football captain was obviously fired up, and he admitted to Jeff that this was usually the case the night before a match.

"That's why I come out here," he said as they drew into the parking lot of the driving range. "You have no idea what a great way to relieve stress hitting golf balls is."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah – you don't have to aim, you just swing and connect. If you get that perfect hit…man, it gives you that little shiver down your spine…it's like a mini-orgasm, man, I swear."

The two girls giggled at that – they really didn't seem to have much in the way of brains.

"You ever done this before?" Russell asked as they lined up their first shots.

"Never," Jeff admitted. "I've never really been one for sports," he added.

"You don't seem to be the competitive type," Russell lifted his club and swung through, cracking the ball, which soared and curved through the air like a tiny missile.

Jeff swung at his ball and connected with the top of the ball, sending it trickling along the grass embarrassingly. "Nope, I guess not," he smiled.

"Relax," Russell said, and somewhat surprisingly, didn't laugh at Jeff's poor shot. It was surprising to Jeff that this guy wasn't the typical prick out to inflate his ego at the expense of others. It was completely against the stereotype of the captain of the football team. "Don't think of it as sport, man," he said, "think of it as leisure. You're not up against me, your up to have a great time. Just relax, keep your eye on the ball – it'll come."

And so it did. Having the two bimbos watching was embarrassing at first, but after a while, he just ignored them. It wasn't as though he was attracted to them, anyway. The evening turned out great, and he had a really good time driving golf balls out into the sunset. After half an hour or so, he'd got the hang of it and was connecting almost as sweetly as Russell.

Russell even dropped him off at his house afterwards – it was a truly wonderful evening.

"Hey, bud," the footballer said, "why don't you come watch the game tomorrow, huh?"

"Oh well…" Jeff was unsure. He'd never really found any kind of interest in football.

"Go on – you'll have fun. And afterwards, you will come out with us, won't you? We're having a celebratory party."

"Celebratory? You haven't won yet, Russ," Jeff smiled.

"We'll find something to celebrate – even if we lose. You'll see."

"Hell, why not?" Jeff said, getting out of the car. "I'll do it."

"Great. You won't be sorry, man – I'll see to that, I promise."

With a little screech of the tyres, Russell was away, and Jeff was left scratching his head. What was going on? He had just agreed to actually go and watch a football game. Lunacy: total lunacy.

*

"Oh God, fuck me, Jeff!" she cried out as he thrust into her wetness. It wasn't dignified, it wasn't civilised, it was hard, rough and like nothing Jeff had ever done before. He leaned back, held her knees apart and pushed inside her, the tip of his cock pressing upwards to stir her g-spot.

He could see his shaft disappearing into the tidy scarlet bush between her legs, squeezing inside her soft pussy lips to fill her and then just as quickly withdraw, quivering inside her trembling vagina.

He couldn't tell if she was anywhere near orgasm, because she hadn't stopped moaning since the beginning, and it didn't seem to be getting anywhere. It almost seemed as though she was faking…was she?

"Oh, come inside me. Come inside me, Jeff – please." She was pleading now, biting her lip as though on the brink of a colossal orgasm. But he felt it wasn't entirely genuine, like it was something she'd learned to please the many guys she'd been with.

He did as she asked, letting himself go, flooding her with his hot seed, but somehow it wasn't like it should have been. He was making love to a stunning cheerleader, a redhead with the brightest brown eyes…but there was something missing. As the sensation faded from his loins and he rolled over to lie beside her, he felt…vacuous somehow. She hadn't really enjoyed any part of what had just happened – she'd faked it. She'd obviously learned that football players like to think they are the best thing that ever happened to womankind, and that his pleasure at being such a stud would somehow rub off on her reputation. He would think he was a great lay because of her reaction, and he'd tell all his cool football friends what a great lay she was. But the reality was that Jeff virtually faked it, too.

A lot of women are under the misapprehension that men can't fake orgasm. They'd be wrong, of course. Admittedly it is always easier with a condom to fake it, because then a woman can't actually tell that he hasn't released anything, but a guy can force himself to ejaculate without it actually being much of a pleasure. No real orgasm.

This is what Jeff did then. And he did the groans and the moans, just like Meg Ryan in that film. And Kitty was satisfied that she was a great lay.

But Jeff felt empty.

*

As soon as Kitty was gone, Jeff was up and throwing on his clothes. No more, no more. He had to get out of there. The scene wasn't really him. Oh, theoretically it would have been great: a row of cheerleaders lining up to suck him back to full hardness and then lie back and let him penetrate them. But there was always a catch.

"Hey baby, how you doing?" another blonde cheerleader, pretty like the rest, was approaching up the corridor as he slipped out of the room, fastening the last few buttons on his shirt.

"Uh…great…" he said.

"You feel like…showing a girl a good time, sport?" she said with a seductive look in her big blue eyes. He had to admit that she was a tempting one, but between his legs, the tiger was sleeping.

"Yeah…maybe later, huh?" he said with a grin as he flicked on past her, leaving her there with a slightly surprised, disappointed look like it was her turn and he wasn't supposed to be running out on her.

He headed on downstairs again, and a few of Russell's teammates, already the worse for wear for beer, raised glasses or bottles and cheered his arrival. Jeff mock-saluted them, not even remembering their names.

"Jeff!" Russell's backup quarterback, Greg Thorndyke, approached him. "How you doing, huh?"

"Oh, can't complain," he smiled, and Greg patted him on the shoulder like an old friend.

"Great," said the big guy, "I hear you're a bit of a hit with the ladies, my man!"

"Well, you know…" he shrugged.

"Hey, Russell was looking for you earlier. I think he's out on the porch. Hey, have a beer – you look like you need one!"

"Right," Jeff nodded, and took the offered bottle of Bud.

Out on the porch, Russell was surprisingly on his own, sitting on a bench looking out into the night. Jeff wondered what was going through his mind. Had he been enduring this world of numb conversation and faker girls for long? That would drive Jeff nuts.

"You okay, Russ?" Jeff sat down beside his new friend.

"Hey, Jeff!" Russ said, his cheeriness seeming slightly put upon, as though it was Jeff's birthday or something, and he had an obligation to be cheerful. "I hear you've been doing okay tonight."

"So-so," Jeff shrugged and took a swig of beer. "You know, I never in a million years thought Marissa Williams would even notice me – let alone take me to bed."

"And how was it, huh?"

"Disappointing," he said, with a tone of voice that reassured Russell that it was okay to be down, that truth was the best thing when emotions were involved. The quarterback just nodded. Jeff went on: "Started out okay, it was…nice…but kind of…well…flat. Like it was nothing special, like it was just some kind of trophy that both of us had been awarded."

Russell sighed. "I'm sorry about that. I guess I thought you might see it differently than…well…how it is."

"You've been with Marissa?"

"A few times, yeah," Russell shrugged. "I guess most of the team has at some point. Sometimes you get in the mood – a few beers after a great victory. It…well y'know…fills a need."

"I swear, when I was with her, she was looking at herself in that full-length mirror," Jeff chuckled. "All the time, I thought she was getting off on me, but she was looking at herself the whole time!"

Russell was forced to laugh with him. "You know, you're right. Most of those girls are in love with themselves like that."

"How the hell do you cope with it?" Jeff asked.

"Cope with it? Christ, Jeff, we get to fool around with the most attractive girls in school – is that so bad?"

"So why are you out here on your lonesome, Russ? Why aren't you in there plugging some cute little blonde in her cheerleader's outfit?"

Russell sighed again. "You're right, of course," he said softly. "Jeff, I'm so goddamn bored of it. Bored of them. My life is so dull. As soon as I get off the playing field, when the adrenaline stops flowing, there's nothing left. I drink beer with the same guys I've been playing with for years, I occasionally head off to some private place with a girl who I don't even like particularly, but she's at the top of the social scale, so it's like a duty…" he took a huge swig of the tumbler of Jack Daniels he held in his hand. "Christ, I don't know why I'm complaining."

"You're complaining because there's something missing in your life," Jeff said.

"I feel so ridiculous."

"The only ridiculous thing is that you haven't done anything about it, yet."

The captain of the football team looked at him then, a serious question in his expression. "Jeff, what the hell do I do? If I don't go out with these guys, if I'm not seen with them…"

"What?" Jeff looked at him like he was nuts. "You're the star of the team. The school has never seen anyone of your ability before – you have a football scholarship to Notre Dame pretty much in the bag, so what's the problem? You could turn into a transvestite and no one would think any less of you. You are at the top of the social hierarchy of the school – you can do anything whatsoever and people will still fight to be seen with you."

The big guy sighed again, long and deeply. "You're right, of course," he said. "Christ I wish there were people like you in my team, Jeff. Most of the guys – they're good people, you understand, their hearts are in the right place – but they're struggling to remember the next goddamn play, let alone what's going on in the world or anything else conversational. I suppose they're a good bunch to have a beer with and so on…"

"But surrounding yourself in cheerleaders is driving you nuts," Jeff chuckled. "Can't you see the solution?"

"No, I can't," Russell drained the last of his glass.

"It's time to get some new friends."

"What?" Now it was Russell's turn to look at Jeff like he was nuts.

"Russ, everyone in school likes you – even those you don't even notice. You're an idol. When the team wins every match, like you've been doing since any of us can remember, there's this buzz around school, a buzz of confidence, of optimism, of happiness. People know you'll be the next Joe Montana or…I don't know…Dan Marino…and they're happy to be at the same school as you."

"So how does that help me get new friends? They don't grow on trees, you know, Jeff."

"The thing that you lack, Russ, is friends that value you as a person, rather than a status symbol. And the easiest way for you to meet people that want to get to know you rather than just being seen with you, is to break out of your clique."

"You're right, man. Christ, I know you're right. What do I do?"

"Just start meeting new people, huh? I mean, you know nobody's going to actively take a dislike to you, so why bother sitting with the same people in class, at lunch, whatever, huh? Why not strike up a conversation with someone who isn't on the team, and isn't a cheerleader?" Jeff could see the idea forming roots in Russell's mind. It felt odd telling the captain of the football team how to make friends: Jeff hadn't exactly made any effort to get to know anyone at school or anywhere else. But then Jeff had never really had the lifestyle that Russell had.

"You know, Jeff, you might just be on to something."

"Then next time you have a party," Jeff suggested, "you make sure you invite people from school who aren't the usual crowd. Maybe you'll meet someone…you never know…someone who'll make something actually last between you."

*

The next week at school was odd. Russell sat with Jeff in class, and the two of them made sure to sit with different people throughout the day – not ignoring the usual crowd, but mixing with new faces a little – and the truth was that Russ was a natural charmer. People were falling over themselves to talk to him, you could see it.

And you could see the change in Russell, too. His whole demeanour seemed to change, he became brighter than ever, more cheerful, more optimistic. He'd be talking to people and he'd casually invite them around for the party after the next match.

But the next party saw the same old faces, and the disappointment on Russell's face was clear.

"Relax," Jeff said as they sat out on the porch again, a couple of beers in their hands.

"No one's here," he said. "Well, apart from the normal guys, you know?"

"So next week just say to people that you missed them at the party. They probably think you weren't being serious inviting them to a post-match celebration – most of them don't even watch football – can you be surprised they're not here?"

"No, I suppose not."

"It'll happen, don't worry."

A cute blonde poked her head around the door. "Jeff?" there was a pleading tone in her voice.

"Go ahead," Russell smiled. "When in Rome, you know?"

"Yeah…" Jeff shrugged and went inside after Lisa, who had persuaded him earlier to go upstairs with her. One thing he'd noticed over the course of the last couple of parties was that if he declined the offers of the cheerleaders, it only made them more determined to get him between their legs. And sometimes you just had to give in to get them to leave off.

But the sex was, for the most part, mundane. Too much make-up, too much perfume, and girls that were just too self-obsessed. No foreplay, no passion, no real feelings involved. It was little more than mutual masturbation.

*

The thing about Russell, though, was that if you gave him a target, he did not give up. The next week, he kept asking people to the next party, and the week after that, and so on. Eventually, the football players and cheerleaders were surprised to find a few people they'd never met before at the parties. Then more and more trickled in, and the vast great mansion owned by Russell's parents was full to bursting of high schoolers.

"Jeff, you are a God," Russell said, the party so lively with all these new people around.

"Well, it makes for a better night, huh?"

"It's never been better. For once, the girls aren't just asking everyone upstairs with them."

"Some of the cheerleaders are."

"Well…" Russell was all smiles, "you know how it is – they can't understand why they're getting no attention from either of us. This is the first party I've actually enjoyed for…well, ages."

"You had any luck with the ladies?" Jeff asked, and both of them knew he meant apart from the cheerleaders.

"Well, what a choice, huh? I mean…sure, they're not models, or anything like that, but some of them are gorgeous…I mean…they're so interesting and…well, I don't know…sexy, somehow."

"It's because they don't have air between their ears," Jeff chuckled, and Russell joined in.

"I think I might be on to someone."

"No!" a grin spread across Jeff's face. "That's great – who is it?"

"There's this dark-haired girl. She's called Alex. She has the sweetest face and these glasses that kind of make look really cute, but also she's so clever. She's pretty shy, though."

"So go after her," Jeff said. "But take it slowly. You don't want to rush things with someone as special as that. I mean if anything happens, you can't let it get out of control or she'll think you're just using her as a one night stand, you know?"

"Yeah, you're right. You think I might have a chance, though?"

"Of course," Jeff reassured his friend. "Just be considerate and don't be tacky like you might be with a cheerleader."

"I'll do my best."

*

With all the events, Jeff had been changed, but the truth was he'd only been changed on the surface. Inside, he was the same old Jeff, still too shy to really form the centre of social events. He was still the kind of guy who sat at the fringes, happy to be there without forming the centre of attention like Russell generally did. The only difference was that people now knew who he was, they recognised him, and since he was famous for saving the life of the star of the school football team, people automatically liked him, even if they hadn't ever met him before.

That part of things he liked: he loved that people would smile at him when they passed, it made him feel appreciated. But here at the party, the biggest party ever, he was sitting at the side again, up two steps of the staircase, out of the centre of things.

People milled past him, drinks in their hands, occasionally wandering past him and seeing him sitting there, and they held up palms of greeting, or they just smiled at him, and that was enough for him. But looking across, Russell was there just as he had said he would be, talking animatedly to Alex, the sweet little thing he'd had his eye on all evening. He seemed to be getting on well with her, and Jeff could certainly see the attraction. She didn't look like a supermodel, but she had the kind of shy good looks that melted men's hearts. She wasn't going to get onto the cheerleading squad, but her smile was something a man might put his life on the line for.

Jeff smiled. It was obvious what would happen: Russell was a smart guy, he wouldn't lose her now. It gave Jeff a warm feeling inside to know that the guy was going to get what had essentially been missing from his life: a proper relationship. Sure, he had a lot to be thankful for, but the truth was that Russell was a fundamentally good person, and he deserved to be appreciated for that by someone close to him.

Jeff sat there, holding a glass that had been full of wine, but was now looking pretty empty. Should he go and get another drink or had he had enough already? He looked around. He felt a little light-headed and his cheeks were warm, which always happened when he'd had enough wine. No, best not. Better to sit there and watch the delightful interplay between Russell and Alex. Look at them: both of them clearly infatuated by the other, yet each too nervous to just fall upon the other.

There had been a girl at the party that Jeff had had his eye on all night – she looked so sultry, so intelligent and so very sexy, it made his stomach turn to molten lava. But she just looked too…too perfect, and made Jeff feel that in all honesty, he hadn't changed much inside. He was still the same guy he was, pretty shy deep-down, like most guys are in real life. He couldn't see her right now, but even if he could, he'd never be able to just go up to her and talk to her like Russell would have done.