Prom Night

Annabelle's mouth fell open. Creasing her eyes, she looked at her mother as if she were some strange being from another dimension.

Her mother shrugged.

"You were always such an athlete or running around with that girl. What was her name?" Mother snapped her fingers. "Heather, Haley, Holly. . .

"Hannah?

"Hannah Kerry."

15


In her mother's desk, Annabelle found the names and phone numbers of all the parents on the swim team. She discovered Mr. Kerry's first name was Hal.

Annabelle texted Hal Kerry.

Hal?

He wrote back immediately.

Annabelle?

She thought about how to present what she wanted from him. Watching the cursor on her phone blink, she eventually typed a response.

I need to see you, she wrote.

They agreed to meet at the cabana behind Annabelle's house. His texts seemed cautious, as if he believed Annabelle were leading him into a trap. This pleased her. There was a path to the cabana from a nearby public park. She asked him to use that path.

Wearing a plain cotton wrap, she carried her laptop to the cabana. She spotted him as he made his way through the light woods and met him at the door. Leading him inside, she opened her computer and put it on the counter facing him.

He looked at her evenly.

She clicked a key and a video began to play. "Watch this," she said. He started to say something, but she cut him off. "Just watch."

She played all her videos back to back for him.

His face revealed very little.

As she waited for the videos to finish, she found herself thinking of Malik. Even worse, she found herself growing horny. It shamed her to think of him this way, considering all that had happened, but she couldn't help herself. She'd felt very foolish the last few days, and if nothing else, Malik knew how to make her feel like she was important. She was glad she'd deleted her Facebook account because even with all she knew about him, she couldn't be sure she wouldn't have reached out to him, especially in these last few days, as her friends from high school taunted her after discovering what she had done after prom.

"Annabelle," Hal Kerry said.

"Shush," she said. Reaching between his legs, she cupped his crotch.

He was hard.

He stepped back, but she moved with him, palming his shaft, running her fingers all the way down to his balls, then back up his shaft again.

She grinned, relieved to feel his girth.

Opening her wrap, she let it fall to the floor. She watched his eyes read the words on her chest. She ran her fingers over the place on her tummy where it said PUMP, and the other place where it said DUMP. His eyes followed the arrow down to her pussy, and the other arrow that pointed toward her head. She smiled sheepishly. It was humiliating to stand before him with such crude words written on her, but it was necessary.

She told him she needed his help removing the words.

He invited her to a motel, where he said they would have warm water and towels. On the way, he stopped at a grocery store for a small bag of supplies, then he got them a room with two Queen-sized beds at a motel on the edge of town.

She stripped, thinking of her night in the crack house.

He rolled up his sleeves.

He mixed a concoction of salt and baby oil and massaged it into her flesh. She lay nude on one of the beds. He worked with his bare hands, rubbing the rough mixture into her flesh. The ink mixed into the oil and darkened her skin in slippery patterns, staining the white sheets. He stripped off his shirt and worked in just his t-shirt and slacks.

He read each message before erasing it from her body. It was weirdly intimate, in a perverse sort of way. He began asking her personal questions and she provided answers she hoped would amuse him.

"How many men did you fuck?"

She made a cute little snort.

"A lot," she said.

He was working on the insides of her thighs. She had to hold her legs open to give him access. Between his question and her position, she felt horny and squirmed on the bed. When the writing was all gone, only the ink and oil remained smeared across her skin. Her face was flush and her pussy sopping wet.

He tugged his t-shirt over his head. "Jump on that bed," he said.

She knew what he wanted. Clambering to her knees, she looked into his face. Steeling her resolve, she said: "I need you to pay me."

He laughed.

She took his hard penis in her hands and stroked him. "You've got a really big cock, Mr. Kerry." She knew his name was Hal, but this time she called him Mr. Kerry. She knew it wasn't appropriate to call him that, especially with his cock so close to her mouth, but saying it that way made his cock twitch and throb in her hand. "Do you want to fuck me like a little whore, Mr. Kerry?"

They settled on a price.

It wasn't a substantial price, but she was horny and unprepared to bargain for more. He piled a stack of pillows in the center of the clean bed and had her drape her body over them.

"You've had it in your ass?" He stroked his cock.

Her first impulse was to lie, but then she shook her head. She thought the truth would disappoint him, but instead he grinned. He climbed on top of her and pressed his cock against her virgin bottom. His penis penetrated her ass and she gasped. Her asshole stung as he stretched it to receive his cock. She clutched the sheets in her fists.

He provided her with delicious agony. She had been a bad girl, so it was only fitting that she should receive such a harsh punishment. And so, as he drilled her ass, she listed all her crimes.

"I'm a whore," she whispered. "A filthy, little whore."

Her face contorted in the mirror.

He saw where she was coming from and goaded her on. "Yes, you are a cheap little whore, a cum slut. You let men jack off into your mouth.

"You filmed your adventures so we could all see.

"You got down on your knees in your prom gown and licked a black man's ass.

"Mr. Kerry please," she groaned.

His words stung, but she felt her body tensing with an orgasm. He clutched her oiled arms, his big cock driving into her bottom. Her body stiffened and she came.

He continued to pump her. On this side of her orgasm, though, his cock felt like a baseball bat wedged into her ass. Fighting a rising panic, she offered him her mouth, saying she was a stupid little slut in her best innocent girl voice. He wrapped his arms around her, clutching her oiled tits.

He pumped his cum into her ass.

Collapsing on top of her, his weight pinned her to the bed. She felt warm underneath him. He rested for a bit, then got off her and showered. His warm seed ran down her thigh.

She showered after him.

When she came back into the room, he was still nude, sitting on the small couch. He called her over and stroked her thigh, her hip. He grinned at her.

"I have to go" she whispered.

He stood and he was very close to her. Letting his hands roam and caress her body, he took her neck in both his hands. A vague sense of fear rose up inside her.

"Do you know what I do for your father?"

Her mouth was dry, her eyes bulging. She shook her head.

"I'm a lawyer."

He pushed her to her knees. His cock hung limp before her. He took her head in one hand and his cock in the other. Mashing his cock against her mouth, he held her head against his groin until she opened wide. His cock tasted salty.

Holding her head between his legs, he returned to his seat on the couch.

He jacked his cock until it started to swell. Letting go of his manhood, he used both hands to hold her head to his groin. He flexed his hips, making a gentle pumping motion. "I'm a special kind of lawyer. I handle intellectual property issues."

She looked up at him.

He grinned and stopped moving his hips. "Copyright, that sort of thing."

He put his hand on the back of her head and another under her chin and then violently fucked her face. She tried to rise, but he warned her against it. She rose to one knee anyway, and he grabbed a fistful of her hair, yanked her head back and slapped her face.

She gasped, tears filling her eyes.

He tugged her head back into his crotch and fed her his cock. Her face stung and his cock filled her mouth. He was swelling.

"Put your knee down." He spoke with a calm measured tone.

She put her knee down.

"Good girl." He petted her head.

He slipped lower in the seat, making himself more comfortable. "I'm the kind of lawyer you call when you need nude videos of your daughter removed from porn sites."

She closed her eyes.

"When the news about the videos broke, your dad called me first."

She looked up, her face filled with surprise and anguish. His wet cock fell from her mouth.

"Did you? —" She couldn't bear to articulate it.

"What?"

"Did you tell daddy about . . . us?"

Hal Kerry laughed.

He took her head and tucked his cock back into her mouth. "Did I tell your dad I paid a guy to fuck his daughter? Don't be ridiculous!"

She felt relieved and suckled his cock. He was fully hard now.

"That day the news broke, I spent hours with your dad in his office cataloging each and every one of your videos." A mental picture of that work took shape in her mind. It made Annabelle cringe. "He said he'd always thought of you as his innocent little girl." Hal Kerry held her chin and looked in her eyes.

"Ha, ha, ha. Guess Dad was a little off the mark, huh?"

Wresting her chin from Hal Kerry's hand, she threw herself into sucking his cock. He had just come in her ass, so it took a long time to get him off. Her jaw got a little sore, but she did the work required of her. Thankfully he stopped talking about her father. Instead, Hal Kerry talked about watching her grow up, and seeing her breasts develop, and how badly he had always wanted to ball her, especially when he learned she was putting out for the boys. It all sounded so tawdry, but it made her undeniably hot, and spurred on her oral work.

Finally, he filled her mouth with semen.

"Swallow that."

She did.

He stroked her temple with his thumb, looking in her eyes. "After your dad and I cataloged all those videos, you know what he told me?"

She dreaded hearing whatever would come next.

"He said he was grateful nobody had fucked you in the ass."

Slumping her shoulders, Annabelle gazed at the bed. Her ass still tingled from having been reamed.

"And . . ."

Hal Kerry's eyes suddenly went flat and hard. He stood up and stepped toward where sweet Annabelle knelt, penis in hand.

"Nobody had pissed in your mouth."

Her eyes rounded and she clamped her mouth shut.

"Ha, ha, ha. Just teasing, Sweetie." He ruffled the hair on top of her head.

"But listen," he said, stepping back from where she knelt. "And this is no joke. I really like your dad. He would probably be upset if he knew I was telling you all this, but I'd like to think that if the shoe were on the other foot, he would do the same for me."

Hal Kerry put a fist on his hip, and held an index finger in the air.

"Sell the pussy all you want," he said, "but if you're smart, you won't make any more of those screw videos."
16


Annabelle woke with a start.

Hal Kerry had dropped her off at home last night and she'd gone straight to bed. Her sleep had been filled with bizarre dreams and she'd woken up several times. Jamal's face had loomed out of a smoky haze, an irrepressible boyish grin on his face.

The championship meet was today. Her mother dropped her at the pool.

"Your father will be here later this morning," Mother said.

An image of her father and Hal Kerry huddled over a computer in her father's office popped into her mind. The picture made Annabelle shudder.

In the locker room, Hannah Kerry and the other girls stopped talking when Annabelle arrived. She went right to a locker and started to undress. Hannah approached. She showed Annabelle a series of hand signs that spelled out the letters SLS.

"Stupid little slut," Hannah said.

Annabelle rolled her eyes.

Hannah and the other girls laughed and exited the locker room. The entire morning was that way. High school friends and parents offering snide little asides or laughing to private jokes.

Annabelle did poorly at her final meet. She consoled herself by recognizing that all the other girls probably hadn't had to spend the night before the meet scrubbing nasty epitaphs from their body or getting fucked up the ass. At her final event, Annabelle stood on the starting block and a feeling so bad sweep over her, her knees started to shake.

Jimmy Myers stood at the exit to the pool. He wore a jean jacket with a hoodie underneath, despite the high humidity in the pool.

He didn't mock her or even make eye contact.

Hannah and Hal Kerry stood at the other end of the pool. Hal Kerry was busy talking on his phone. When Annabelle met Hannah's eyes, Hannah made the SLS hand sign and then silently mouthed "STUPID LITTLE SLUT."

Hal Kerry was making his own hand gestures as he spoke on the phone.

The judge called for the ready position.

Annabelle crouched, feeling her heart thud in her chest. The buzzer rang. She got off to a bad start but was streaking through the pool. In the water, things always became clearer for her. It was true that she had acted impulsively. She had put herself and her family at great risk. Jamal's face appeared in the blue before her and she streaked through it.

Malik was out there, she thought, waiting for her. She felt certain of it.

He had come to lay claim to her.

She tagged the final wall and then held the edge of the pool, catching her breath. She hadn't finished in last place, but hers wasn't a good time. It didn't matter. Twisting her head around, she saw the exit where Jimmy had stood was empty. At the other exit, Hannah was gone but Hal Kerry remained, talking to one of the officials.

Annabelle climbed out of the pool, water coursing off her body.

She dashed to the locker room. Halfway there she stopped.

If Malik were here, he would surely go to the girls' locker room. Annabelle took off in the opposite direction. The doors to the boys' locker room stood before her, but she knew she wouldn't find her way out in that direction. There was a tunnel to a place for internal pool maintenance. It had a yellow caution tape draped across the entrance.

Annabelle ducked under the tape.

The passageway was unlit and mostly dark, but she could see a light around a corner up ahead. Turning the bend, she saw a huge portion of the wall had been ripped away by the storm and sunlight streamed inside.

Through the wall, she saw green grass and a clear blue cloudless sky.

She had to make her way carefully over the broken cinderblocks from the wall. As she hoped from one block to another, it occurred to her that she was totally unprepared for this kind of journey. She wore no shoes to protect her feet.

Her wet hair clung to her face and back.

The sun warmed her shoulders.

She felt . . . invincible.

In the sunlight past the wall, she turned back and surveyed where she had come from. It was a dark place that the storm had opened up. She thought with regret about all the stuff she'd left behind, but it couldn't be helped. This was the place where she was meant to be. She made her way toward the road.

Little pebbles dug into her feet.

She didn't know how she would get home, but she no longer feared Malik. He was in the city, she knew, doing whatever it was pimps do with lazy Sunday afternoons. He was not searching for her. After today, she would rarely think of him again, and she would never, ever see him again. Not even in her dreams.

A car pulled into the berm of the road behind her, its tires crunching in the gravel.

It was her father.

The lock popped up on passenger-side door.

He glanced at her with a half-smile on his face, but he didn't say anything. Annabelle climbed in and drew the seat belt across her chest. "I had to get out of there," she said.

They drove in a companionable silence.

Hal Kerry had told her last night that most of the video had already been pulled from the Internet and that he would monitor for reappearances. She felt relieved to put it in the past. How many girls could say their fathers would protect them no matter what they had done?

Precious few.

She shivered and her father turned on the heat. Reaching into the backseat, he dug out a flannel jersey for her to wear.

"You hungry?" he asked.

She was famished.

They went through a drive through and got cheeseburgers, fries, and vanilla milk shakes. The salty fries tasted delicious. She wasn't sure what she should say to her father, so she didn't say anything. He did all the talking. He told her an embarrassing and humorous story about a time he had worked for his father and accidentally ruined an entire construction site, generating a huge loss for his father. She took the telling of that story as a sign that her father had forgiven her. That he valued their relationship over anything she might do, any misstep she might take.

She left for Washington D.C. the next morning.

The summer and the whole first semester she floated through life. Putting high school and Carnal behind her, she embraced college life, liberal values, and feminism. She had solidified and renewed her relationships with her mother and father, she imagined, through what had happened on prom night. She thought of those relationships in terms of the way a beautiful diamond would only crystallize and realize its true potential under stress.

She let go of what happened to her on prom night, thinking she had dodged a bullet.

She really had.

But then at the start of her second semester, Annabelle got a little drunk one night. With her head light, her inhibitions were lowered. On Tinder, she found a man willing to pay her for sex. When she met him, he was a middle-aged school teacher with a bald head. Her heart beat wildly as she took the bills from his hands. She fucked him with abandon. After he finished, she made him sit on the bed and sucked him hard again. She let him come in her mouth.

The next morning, she felt horribly guilty.

Was she not a feminist?

Did she not have satisfying relationships with her parents?

She deleted her Tinder account and threw herself into her school work, doubling down with extra hard classes. But then, a few weeks later, it happened again. She felt the same guilty feelings in the morning, but this time a little less so. And then, a few weeks after the last time, it happened another time. Opps! And then it happened again, in Miami, during spring break. Soon, Annabelle had to accept that her sexuality would move in ways that were a little different than most of the girls she knew.

It wasn't anything to blamer on her relationship with her mother or father.

It wasn't anything Uncle Benny had done.

She was just adventurous. When it came to sex, she liked what was taboo.

She created a Tinder account and called herself, "WhatsForDinner?" Her profile made it clear that she was on the menu. She created a Craig's list page, offering discreet services for the lonely or adventurous. She remained in school, but servicing men was a cottage business she managed on the side.

Hal Kerry was a good customer.

She soon discovered he had a costume fetish and would pay handsomely for schoolgirls in pleated-plaid skirts and uniform ties, cheerleaders with pompoms, or ballerinas in white tights.

Annabelle tried to make up with Hannah, but she wouldn't allow it.

One day a request for an oral prostitute to work a bachelor party came through Craig's list, and Annabelle discovered too late that the party was for Hannah's betrothed. Her business reputation at stake, Annabelle sucked him off, slipping her index finger up his ass just as he came. Turns out, he loved that kind of attention. It was only mildly taboo, but it was the sort of thing he couldn't get at home. After that he wanted to see Annabelle regularly, but she turned him away for reasons of karma.
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