Love Lessons

Although the less time he spent thinking about the puzzle, the more bandwidth he had for thinking about her. Over time, he felt they were getting closer. He relaxed in her company; thought about her less as one of the 'hot girls at school' who bullied him, and more as... a friend? A friend who laughed and joked with him, not at him; who wasn't repulsed by his company. Maybe one day, they could move beyond friendship?

Don't kid yourself, the devil told him. You're just useful to her at the moment. As soon as exams are over, so is this fake relationship. Even if you do get off with each other, sex is just currency to her. Meaningless.

He ignored the voice. He enjoyed the time spent with her, and she seemed to enjoy it as well. That's more than he could ever have hoped for. What's more, he didn't feel quite as threatened by the other girls at school anymore. Not so much that he dared talk to them - but enough that he no longer felt nervous in their company. They were just people, like him.

Then one night, after they'd been studying natural logarithms, he woke up with a start. He knew what the combination was. Why she'd talked about 'irrational choices', and why she'd pronounced 'easy' with that particular emphasis on the first syllable. It's like she'd always wanted him to know the answer. He was ashamed of himself for not realising it sooner. But he couldn't wait for the next session.

///

Claire saw the confident look on his face when she opened the door. "Good morning," she said. "You look happy today."

"It's sunny, and I get to spend the day with you. What's not to like?"

Charmer, she thought. Where was the nerd from school who cowered whenever anyone approached him? That guy was gone. She wondered what could have caused the change. She liked it. He was racing upstairs to her bedroom, as if possessed. She noticed a gleam in his eye, and for the first time was concerned about what he might do.

She found him sat in front of the wooden trunk, holding the padlock as if it were the rarest gift from the gods. Slowly he dialled in another number. 2 - 7 - 1 - 8...

The realisation shook her. While the thought of him opening the chest had been an abstract concept, she'd been fine with it. But now it looked like becoming a reality... "No! Please, no, don't!" she found herself saying, and threw herself on top of the chest as he flicked the last 2 digits into place: ... 2 - 8. The padlock popped open at his touch.

"Ha ha! I knew it!"

"Simon, please, I beg you, don't open it!" Oh god, what if this comes out, she'd never live it down! She lay prone over the wood, terror in her eyes.

"But you promised?!"

"I know, I know. But I can't. I'll do anything, just don't look inside." She looked him in the eyes. "Anything you want. Anything at all." She was deadly serious.

Bloody hell, what has she got in there, Simon wondered? I want to find out, so badly, but she looks so scared... "Okay, fine. You don't need to do anything you don't want to. But you promised, and I'm disappointed. I can keep secrets, you know."

He looked so dejected, she thought. "It's not that I don't trust you... it's just you'll think differently of me once you've seen inside. I like the friendship we have, as it is."

The words lifted his heart. "We're friends?"

"Duh, yeah?" she replied. "I know I don't show it at school, because of what everyone would say. But I do like you, y'know. And I want you to keep liking me."

His heart raced. "Oh Claire, I could never stop liking you." But like wasn't the word he used in his head. He saw her, spread across the chest; he could see down her top, her boobs squashed against the surface of the trunk, her perky ass in the air. An image reminiscent of many a porn scene. He shook his head trying to clear it.

She looked at him, considering. He was such a kind boy. Maybe, if anyone, he'd understand. And she really wanted him to know, wanted someone to share this with.

"Okay," she said, sliding to the floor. "Okay, Simon, you win. We'll open it together. But you have to promise not to tell another living soul."

It was an easy promise for him to make. Who would he tell, and even if he did, who would believe him over the most popular girl in school?

"In one... two... three..." and they pushed the lid of the chest open.

Whatever Simon had been expecting, he would never have guessed this. The trunk was full of comic books - superheroes, manga - along with action figures still in their boxes, ticket stubs, pamphlets from conventions... "Some of this stuff is worth a fortune," he breathed, finally looking over at Claire with an incredulous expression on his face. She still hadn't taken a breath. "Fuck me, you're a bigger geek than I am!"

She blushed, biting her lip, saying nothing.

"Some of these things... wow!" he said, picking out a hard shell transparent box containing a first edition of a particularly rare comic. "How did you even get this... I'm sorry, but what the hell, Claire? Why did you keep this from me?"

"I dunno... habit?"

"I can't believe you like this stuff! You're so... so..."

"Ditzy and girly and all into boys and fashion?" she finished for him. "You know me better than that now, surely? But I have a reputation to keep up, at school, so please not a word. To anyone."

Simon didn't really understand. Marvel had spent years making this stuff mainstream. What was there to be ashamed of? Maybe in our parents' day this would have been weird, but today surely it would have been stranger not to at least enjoy the movies?

"What's this?" he asked, digging a bit deeper into the box. There was a heavy duffel bag tucked into a corner.

"Oh, I don't think you're ready for that," she said, making a snatch for it. But Simon lifted it out of her reach. "No more secrets," he said. She shrugged, and let him look. He reached into the bag, pulled out a fistful of red Lycra, covered with a familiar pattern...

"No, surely it isn't... it is! An Iron Man cosplay outfit, that is so cool!"

He lifted out the boots, and the familiar helmet. But then on closer inspection, he realised this wasn't just any outfit. He'd seen this specific gender-bender costume before, several times, in person and online - there were several tell-tale embellishments which he'd spent hours fantasising over in the privacy of his room. "No, you can't be..." he whispered, and looked over at Claire, who was actually blushing. "I don't believe it. You're Iron Girl?"

"Guilty," she whispered.

"But that's impossible. She's... and you're..."

"She's what?"

"Iron Girl is like mega famous and super-hot, she's all tits and ass and legs that go forever..."

"Uh-huh," Claire said, a slight dangerous tone edging into her voice.

But Simon was so lost he didn't recognise the warning signs. "And you're, well you're pretty sexy yeah, beautiful, but I mean you can't be Iron Girl, that's ridiculous! You're Claire, from school!"

"What are you saying, exactly? That I'm not super-hot? Or that Iron Girl can't be a schoolgirl? Why's that so unlikely? Peter Parker was a high school student!"

"I... but..." Simon spluttered. He couldn't believe it. Claire wasn't just a geek; she was the Geek Queen! He suddenly noticed the look she was giving him, and realised he needed to do some frantic backpedalling. "Sorry, Claire, but I'm just so shocked. You're really her? I mean, yes, you have a great figure, I'm sure you'd look amazing in the outfit...."

"You've seen me in it. You know what I look like. You tell me, how do I look?"

That was true enough. The nights he'd spent lost in rapt contemplation of Iron Girl; thinking about the way the spandex clung to her ass, her boobs; of the large translucent gemstone that represented the generator, placed strategically in the costume to accentuate her deep cleavage. And all the time she'd been sitting a few desks down from him in science class! It was unreal.

Simon gulped. "You are the most beautiful, sexy girl I've ever met, ever seen. I can't believe it. I'm talking to Iron Girl. I've been teaching her science! Bloody hell." He sat, heavily.

"You really think I'm sexy, that I'm beautiful?"

"Of course I do. Who wouldn't?"

Me, she thought. She wasn't oblivious to her looks, and she knew what people wrote about Iron Girl on social media - some of it downright disgusting and disturbing, which was at least part of why she wanted this to remain secret. But that was just a costume, just a performance. But in a way, so was her real life. She wasn't even herself at school, with her friends. With her ex-boyfriends. She couldn't be; they'd disown her. She was always acting, always had a mask on, playing a role. Simon was the only person who knew about this side of her, not even her big sisters or her parents. Had she finally found someone with whom she could be her genuine self? Hope blossomed, and with it, the first flicker of attraction.

Simon was still rabbiting on. "Oh, come on, Claire, you know how you look. You're stunning. You've always got boys on the go. You don't need a loser like me to tell you how amazing you are, you..."

"Shut up," she said, not unkindly, and put her hands on his cheeks, leant in, and kissed him full on the lips.

Simon's heart stopped beating. He stopped breathing. Everything in the world was silent, drained of colour, out of focus. All that existed were her soft lips on his, her fingers on his cheeks, her nose brushing against his. He couldn't move, couldn't think.

She broke off the kiss, leant back, embarrassed. "I'm sorry, I... don't know what came over me."

Simon couldn't look her in the eye. "No problem, that was... nice..." he stumbled, unable to come up with the words to adequately express how he was feeling. Perhaps no such words existed.

"Please, don't tell anyone at school," she pleaded. Her nervousness hung in the air, and when Simon didn't respond straight away, she continued "Promise me. It's why I chose Iron Girl, so I could wear the helmet. Cover my face, have somewhere to tuck my hair. Nobody must know who I am. It's like my secret identity."

She's embarrassed, Simon realised. Does she regret kissing me already? "Of course I won't," he nodded.

"Not a word. About the kiss, the costume, my whole anime fetish. None of it must leave this room. My friends.... They'd disown me. My life would be over."

"You'd still have friends," he said.

"Really?"

"You'd have me," he said, smiling. She smiled back, her eyes lit up, and he thought maybe there was a glimmer of hope for a future together after all.

"I don't deserve you," she muttered. Simon didn't know what to say to that, so he said nothing. "Maybe, one day, I'll let you see me in the suit, without the helmet. But not today. We still have Physics to get through."

Reluctantly, Simon forced himself to focus back on the revision. But he knew already that he wasn't going to be able to get to sleep tonight. He'd be watching Iron Girl videos into the early hours, haunted by her kiss.

CHAPTER THREE

From there, their burgeoning friendship grew. Trust had been established, and with it a certain honesty about their lives up to that point. They had a common frame of reference and could spend many a happy evening and weekend together, studying, or watching Marvel movies on TV. Claire didn't kiss Simon again, but there was a certain ease in how they behaved in each other's company. Simon didn't even notice how much they were together or realise that she couldn't possibly be seeing anybody else, because she was always spending time with him.

Exams got closer, and as spring started to develop towards summer, it got warmer. And as it got warmer, they both started reaching for summer clothes. Claire's outfits started getting shorter and skimpier; jeans and T-shirts became knee-length skirts and t-shirts, then shorts and t-shirts, then microskirts and crop-tops. On a particularly hot sunny day, she opened the door to him in the tiniest, lowest-cut crop top and torn-off denim short-shorts, the kind that were basically briefs with the pockets hanging out from underneath and her butt cheeks half on display. It was practically a bikini. Simon had to nearly swallow his tongue to stop it hanging out. She wore a necklace with a green gem enclosed in a gold cage - reminiscent of Dr Strange's time stone - which nestled perfectly into the top of her cleavage, resting on the fullness of her perfect boobs, which were revealed practically to the nipple by the scoop top. He could see wisps of the lace of her bra tracing under the edge of the neckline.

Oh god, I have to sit down before this boner rips my shorts, Simon thought.

They got to work. Claire pretended not to notice Simon's discomfort, or the cause of it. But the truth was, she'd chosen her outfit deliberately. Ever since she'd kissed him, she hadn't been able to get him out of her mind. About how kind he'd been to her, about how much they had in common. About how funny and charming and sweet he was. How he was nothing like any other boy she'd ever met. She loved how he'd never made a move on her, although he clearly wanted to, and about how nervous and scared he'd been that first time she came on to him. She'd hoped that, with time, he might loosen up a bit. He just needed to get out of his own way. But he hadn't, yet, so she'd resolved to hasten that process along a little.

This was a new experience for her. Being turned down... nobody did that. It made her curious, determined... horny as fuck. Either he hadn't noticed, or had chosen to ignore, her flirting. Either way, she would not be denied. She would have him, eventually. And there was no time like the present. They were closer friends now, so maybe he'd be ready to take things to the next level, if she could help him along. So, she'd picked out the perfect lingerie set, and the skimpiest outfit she had, to show herself off. This outfit was foolproof; it had never failed to get her laid. If this doesn't get him going, then it was hopeless. She was sure he fancied her; he just needed a little kick.

Simon found it very difficult to concentrate. He was trying to think of ways to explain complex scientific concepts to Claire - she'd come a long way, but the material they needed to cover was really hard stuff. (No, don't think about things being really hard, that's not helping). Yet most of his brainpower was lost in a battle between his intent to be gentlemanly, and his lust-crazed lizard brain that kept dragging his eyes back to her boobs. He just didn't have enough blood to both run his brain and sustain this erection at the same time. The more he thought he was getting away with the sly peeking, the longer the glances became. The way the sweat beaded on her round flesh and slid into the crease between her perfect breasts. The way the necklace nestled in that little triangle at the top, then swung back and forth - along with the globes beneath - when she leant forwards to write. If he angled his head just so, he could see her bra, look right down to where it met her breastbone...

"Simon? Simon!" Claire shouted.

Oh Christ, I'm for it now, he realised.

"I'm waiting. What's the answer?"

"I... um..." he looked down at the pad, at the revision booklet, desperate to work out what the context of the question was.

"You don't know what I was asking, do you?" she said, trying to suppress the smile.

"I'm sorry, I guess I was daydreaming..."

"You were staring at my tits, weren't you."

"I..."

"I'm not stupid, Simon. I can see your eyes, where they're looking! I know you're a man, you can't help it. But try and focus, okay?"

"Sorry. I didn't mean..."

"I'm sure you didn't," she said. But as she worked, she made sure to push her boobs together with her arms, to sway a little more than necessary, to lean forwards so her ass rose from the chair to make sure he got a good look at the rear as well. She gave him another five minutes of thinking he was being subtle, then rounded on him again.

"Look, if you can't concentrate, we're gonna have to get this over with. You're clearly too fascinated by my tits to get anything else done. So, are you gonna touch them, or not?"

"Excuse me, am I what now?"

"Touch them. You know, honk honk. Get it out of your system."

"I... I couldn't..." Simon was shocked. He couldn't objectify her like that. Well, okay, in the privacy of his own room, his own mind, of course he could. That's how he'd spent the last few years of his life, at night. But not in person. That would be... wrong.

"Yes, you could. Give me your hand."

"No, I don't want to."

"Don't lie to me. I know you better than that now; I can see how hard your cock is. Give me your hand, and let's get this over with."

"You really want me to touch you there, like that?"

More than you can possibly imagine, she thought. Again, what's the big deal? Half the football team have splashed their cum over these puppies, at one time or another. All I'm asking you to do is feel them. Man up, Simon. But she couldn't say that out loud, it'd scare him off for sure. But she had to say something. "Oh, for God's sake Simon, be honest will you. We're friends now aren't we, so we can be truthful with each other. I know you want to; you know you want to." And I want you to, she said to herself, but couldn't admit that to him. There was honesty, and then there was insanity.

She took his shaking hand, brought it to her boob. He curled his hand over the curve of her, staring at his fingers as they cupped her.

"There," she said. "Not so scary."

Simon's brain was in meltdown. I can't believe I'm touching her boobs! He could feel his hands shaking. She moved round, sat in front of him, and he brought his other hand up to grab the other breast.

"Gently, they're not stress balls, don't squeeze so hard."

"Sorry... It's firmer than I expected," he mumbled, still staring at his hand.

"That's because of the bra. Feel here," she said, drawing his fingers up to the cleavage where her necklace nestled. Sure enough, Simon felt the soft flesh give with the slightest pressure. He stroked his fingers across her silky skin, over the crease to the other boob, and back again.

"You're amazing," he said, finally managing to tear his eyes away from her tits to look at her face.

You're so sweet, she thought. She could feel him trembling, and it was really starting to turn her on. The effect she was having on him, the strength of the reaction just from the gentlest touch, she'd not known anything like it. Her past boyfriends were horny, experienced guys. Simon was nervous and excited. He had no preconceptions about what was normal; ah, the things she could teach him... she felt herself getting wet at the prospect.

She shuffled over, sat on his knees as he continued to fondle her breasts, stroking over the material of the crop top. He seemed content, but she needed more. She grabbed the hem and pulled the top over her head, so his hands could stroke across lace and satin instead.

"Oh god," he breathed, as he saw her perfect tits presented in the sexy lingerie. He traced the outline of the bra, ran his hands over her back, followed the curve of the cup from her armpit down into the depths of the cleavage where the bra met her breastbone. He cupped both boobs in his hands, gliding his thumbs over where he could just see an impression of her nipples pushing against the fabric. He heard her breath catch, and he smiled, slowly teasing at her nipples, drawing forth a moan.

She tucked a finger under his chin, lifted his face towards hers. Simon was powerless to stop her as she brought her mouth to his, gave him the warmest, softest kiss, slowly capturing his top lip with hers before drawing away. Their eyes met, briefly, and then she leant forwards again and pressed her mouth back to his, and then expectantly parted her lips.