Sandra and Michael Dorne

I got all kinds of sympathy from Sandra after the attack by her boyfriend. But, that said, it was what it was, and there just wasn't much to be done about it. He was still a minor and got the usual blasé slap on the wrist.

******

Sandra and I did meet a few more times getting her ready for her Bio and Math finals. We met for breakfast in the caf the day of the first test.

"Just go slow and do what I told you strategy-wise and you'll be fine," I said.

"Well, if I do do okay it'll be all because of you, Mike. I appreciate everything you've tried to do even though you did blackmail me." And then she was taking the test.

The results came back three weeks later. Yeah, she aced them: 91% in Bio, and 94% in Geometry. I think I felt better about the results than she did. I got a major kiss on the lips as my reward. The bad news was that now Roger was back in the saddle and rubbing my nose in it every time he saw me. It irked me, but what could I do.

******

Central was a good enough public school. Mister Walsh, the principal, was into the arts. Hence there was an arts festival every year. The arts? Well, there was paint art, woodworking, some other such stuff and performing arts. I signed up; I was going to play the guitar.

"I'd been practicing for years. I'd be fine. Would I win? Probably get honorable mention. The guitar was not the instrument of choice per concerts if one wasn't Santana or Jimmy Hendricks. Me? I was neither: I was into classical guitar, actually, in love with it. Twenty-seven entries tried the audience's patience on the stage; I was number twelve. The judges watched me with bored expressions as I took my place on the dais. I had to announce the piece.

"I will be doing Andre Segovia's Asturias," I said. I got a look from Mr. Clausen the music teachers and one of the judges. I think I'd surprised him. I played. The others did their thing, and then I joined the audience.

I was sitting there with my guitar. No many watchers in the gym at that particular moment. She came up to me.

Pretty good," said Helen. "You do have a lot of talents don't you. My next party is Friday night next. Do come, and bring that," she said, pointing to my guitar.

"Sure, I said. "That'd be great." Then I got the biggest surprise I would likely ever get in high school.

"Not bad, Mike," said Roger. "Uh—sorry about or past disagreements." He walked off. I looked around to see if he'd been coached maybe by Sandra. But no, he'd been sincere—and—original in his remarks." I think I said no problem or something like that to his back. Oh, and I did get an honorable mention and a personal private moment with Mr. Clausen. He said I'd done better than honorable mention. Still, the piano players got the primary awards; well, one couldn't expect to win 'em all.

Oh, and I did attend Helen's party and several others thereafter. I guess I'd progressed from brainy loser to mister nice short guy. Hell, even the jocks talked to me; music did it for them.

******

The rest of my high school career came and went all too quickly.

The end of my sophomore year saw the graduation of my rival for Sandra's hand graduate. But, then Sandra was a senior and I was a junior. Yes, I did press her to go with me to the prom: I was a junior and thereby qualified to go, but his Rogerness returned for that little event and took her. I did have a date for the prom though; I went with Helen Morgan; well, she liked to dance. She took it more seriously than most of the rest of the student body, and I was the only one, among the boys at the school who was in her league. She along with Corky Wheeler and Carol Ann Smith were the best dancers at the school.

We had a good time and we did make it to two different all night parties after we left the formal event. Helen let me feel her up too; Jesus that was a trip. Her C-cups were truly outstanding, and they stood out, if you get my drift.

And, then, my girl was sorta gone, graduated. By sorta gone, I mean that she'd graduated all right, but she'd only gone to our local junior college, Valley CC, so she was in the same town as our high school. She wanted to take up nursing. Problem was, nursing was ninety percent Math and Science. Guess who she came to for tutoring. Yeah, right, exactly, it twern't Roger Grimes.

******

"I'm going to pay you, Mikey. No more of that high school blackmail stuff—okay?" she said.

"No, no, I can't take your money; but, I won't blackmail you either. No, if you want to go out with me now; given your long-time and current stand on the matter, you'll have to be asking me," I said. And, boy did I hope she'd see the light and come asking. I kinda laughed and she did too.

"No, you have to let me pay you," she said.

"Find someone else then to tutor you," I said. "I will not take money from the love of my life," I said, and that without so much as a blink. Her mouth shot open wide at my remark.

"Mikey, I have a boyfriend. And, you damn well know who it is, Roger Grimes," she said. "I can't go out with other guys; it would be cheating at this point. Surely you can understand that."

"I do, and I am not requiring you to go out with me. Only that you let me tutor you for free. No other way is going to fly with me," I said.

"Mikey! Damn it!" she said. Frustration was her new middle name.

"I get what I want and you get what you need, Sandra. Take it or leave it," I said.

"Okay, then. I'm leaving it," and she stomped out. I shrugged. It was her decision. True I was unbending, but that is just the way it was going to be, no negotiation.

******

I was only a senior in high school, but I was the most serious senior that Central high ever encountered.

Additionally, I was kinda popular now. Like mom had said, the other kids would figure it out in due time; well, they had. Oh the jocks still got the first picks of all of the girls, but their leavings were pretty damn good regardless. I'd taken Helen Morgan to homecoming and on the way home we'd parked. Almost eighteen and still a virgin technically, but I did get some pretty nice touchy-feely-kissee-wisee.

Helen and I had not exactly been an item; I still had no true girlfriend, didn't want one. Sandra was going to be mine somewhere down the road, but until then Helen was a more than an adequate standin: pretty and rich too.

We'd been wet kissing for some little time then we stopped. We looked out on the lights of the valley below us; it was a beautiful night and the moon was full.

"Let's get in the back big boy," she said.

"Huh?" I said. We'd never gotten in the back seat. We'd made out plenty of times. We'd kissed our lips raw and she let me feel her up almost every time we went out; well, through her clothes that is. We'd never been naked together.

"In the back?" I stupidly asked.

"Yes, you get to have me tonight. And I get to have your virginity. You are still a virgin, right?" she said. I turned as red as a beet; I could feel it. I swallowed.

"Yes, I guess so," I said. She laughed and that long and hard.

"You guess so? How is that you don't know for sure?" she said.

"Well, I mean, yes, I've never gone, well, all the way," I said.

"Well, you will tonight. Just do what I tell you, and We'll be fine. Okay?" she said.

"Yes, ma'am," I said. She laughed again.

"Unbutton my blouse and take it off me," she said. I did as she commanded. "Now my skirt." She lifted a little so I could slide it down her fantastic legs.

She sat there staring at me in her bra and panties. "Jesus, you're beautiful," I said. And she was.

"Well strip mister. I need to see you naked. I want to see what you've got to do me with," she said. I was naked in less than a full minute. My cock, five inches of pure steel, was straining to be administered to.

"Hmm, not too bad. Yes, your thingy will do me just fine," she said. She took hold of it, kinda gently, lightly, and began stroking it. After about a minute, I felt it began to pulsate; she stopped stroking me. She bent forward and let the length of it slide into her mouth. She began licking and sucking me. I couldn't hold back I exploded into her mouth and decided to try and die because this moment in my life was a helluva lot better than seeing fucking Naples for damn sure!

"But, I didn't die and I began to get hard again almost immediately. She knelt on the seat with her knees splayed wide and her backside stuck out waiting for me to do my duty. I'd never done it before, but it didn't figure to be rocket science. I got up behind her and tried to stick it in her. I failed. She looked back at me and smiled.

She reached between her legs and guided my five-inch heat seeking moisture missile to its target. I slipped in easily. I began screwing her slowly: the last thing I wanted to do was hurt her or make it not good for her; but this was my first, I needed it to be good for me too! Oh yeah!

She grew impatient. Get to it, big boy, fuck me hard and fast, very fast; and, try and to last a bit, okay! I sped up and lasted maybe a good three or four minutes before shooting my second load into her. She mooed.

We lay on the back seat and cuddled. It was a delicious time, and for some minutes I didn't even think of Sandra.

******

"I don't know Carla; I got a C-minus on the test. That's not good enough for the nursing program. I've got to do better; they've got me on probation now," said Sandy.

"What about that other tutor you said could do it for you?" said Carla Carter.

"Yeah, but the dorky little shit is a blackmailer," said Sandra.

"What!" said Carla.

"He won't let me pay him, and I'm not going to date him which is what he's really after. It wouldn't be fair to Roger," said Sandra.

"Wait, wait. He told you that you had to date him to get him to help you?" said Carla.

"Well, not exactly," said Sandra.

"Huh?"

"Well, no. He just said he wouldn't accept any money from me. But, I know it was just a ploy to get me to feeling guilty so I'd go out with him," said Sandra.

"He never asked you for a date? And he won't let you pay him? And you think he just wants to date you so he's kinda into making you feeling guilty or something? That what you're saying?" said Carla.

"Yes."

"Sounds like the usual pussywhipped boy who wants to feel that he's giving something to his true love even if he can't have her," said Carla.

"Yes, that's about it, I guess," said Sandra.

"Well, girl, if it was me, I'd give him what he wants. What the hey. It'll make him feel good and maybe keep you in the program," said Carla.

"I don't know. Maybe. But, he's really kinda focused on getting me to marry him," said Sandra.

"Wait, wait, he asked you to marry him, not just date him!" said Carla.

"Well, not exactly. It was when we first met. He told me that he and I were meant to be together that that eventually we'd be getting married. And, he said it right in front of Roger." said Sandra. Carla laughed.

"Go back and give him what he wants, stupid," said Carla. "You've told him like it is, so you're covered. At least this way, he gets to save a little face and make himself feel good. You, on the other hand, get to pass your next eval if he's as good as you say."

"Yeah, I guess I have to," she said, not too enthusiastically. "I don't have much choice. He really is that good, mainly he's able to make it so I actually understand the stuff he's teaching me. Doctor Wilcox's student teachers mostly just confuse me.

Carla shrugged and spread her hands in a yeah-get-on-with-it gesture.

******

Saturday morning. I was going to go to the beach; but, then I wasn't. I answered the door.

"Sandra!" I said. I was genuinely surprised.

"I'll take your deal. I promise not to give you any money. And, I promise to stay faithful to Roger," she said. I nodded, and I smiled.

"Deal," I said, affirming our deal.

"It's Bio-Chemistry," she said, and then she hesitated.

"What?" I said, wondering at the hesitation.

"And, pre-Calculus," she said.

I think she was almost hoping the two were beyond me. But, the Math was going to be cinch for me. I was good at Biology and fair at Chemistry, But, the Math was actually my hobby; hell, I was studying Tensor Calculus on my own; so I figured to be able to do okay for her if I—she—had the time.

"How much time we got?" I said.

"Nine weeks: till the end of the quarter," she said. I felt like rubbing my palms together in glee.

I smiled. "Okay, I'm going to need to see you Monday, after school, with your texts and your syllabi. That okay?" I said.

"Yes, but not today?" she said.

"Well, we could. I mean I was going to go to the beach, but if you're really that desperate . . .?" I said. She looked at me sideways.

"Okay, Monday will be okay, I guess," she said. "But I have my texts and syllabi in the car. I could leave them with you if you think that that would be useful," she said.

"Good, good," I said. She headed out to get them.

After she left, I rethought my initial glee at what she was looking for me to do for her. This might be a tough nut after all. I mean, well, Sandra was not a great thinker. I had to get her to a point where she could ace her finals in two tough "tough for her" subjects. I didn't go to the beach. I narrowed my eyes, read her syllabi closely, and leafed through her texts per the relevant material.

I did note that her syllabi covered things that were not specifically in the texts. She'd doubtless be getting handouts in class for those, and more than likely discover that the tests she'd be taking would be taken mostly from those and her classroom notes not the texts. I was pretty sure I would have to teach her how to take notes and cull the less important stuff out of them. I sighed.

My mission? It was going to be two fold. One: I had to make sure she did in fact ace the exams. Two: I had to impress her so completely that she would consider changing her romantic allegiance from Roger to me. I didn't have the looks or the size or the social acceptability that he did, but I had things that were, frankly, at least to me, more than a match for what he had or ever would have. Now, all I had to do was sell my thinking to Helen of Troy.

******

For nine weeks we worked three hours a night, five nights a week on her weaknesses. Oh, and it ended up being not only the two scarier of her subjects. There was also, as it turned out, History and Research Writing and Psychology and well you get the picture.

She did have the decency to look a little guilty when she laid the other stuff on me. She wasn't actually in danger of failing any of the others; she was a hard worker, but she would barely have made the 2.5 GPA she needed to maintain her place in the program. So, I was enlisted to help her with those too.

It was Wednesday, it was week eleven and she'd gotten her results two days before and had sat for her evals the next day. We had a luncheon date, well that's the way I thought of it, so she could share with me the results.

She arrived right on time. "Hi," she said, her tone was somber.

"So, how did you do?" I said, a little concerned at her demeanor.

"Not as well as I'd hoped," she said. I eyed her.

"Huh?" I said. I knew she'd been ready. Something was wrong.

"Yes, I did get a B+ in Psyche," she said. I deflated; her easiest subject and the one we'd spent the least time on.

"Oh," I said, expecting that that had been her highest grade.

"And the others?" I said.

"All A's," she said. At first what she'd said didn't register then it did. I smirked.

"Asshole!" I said. She laughed.

"I owe it all to you, Mikey. I do wish you'd let me pay you something. I need to reward you somehow," she said.

"You're happiness and that smile are reward enough for me," I said, and I meant it.

She took on a look, decided something, and set herself to tell me.

"You going to the beach again this Saturday?" she said. I had taken up surfing and she knew I went California Street at county line pretty much every week; well, we had talked some over the course of the quarter.

"No, I'm going to the prom Saturday night. Mom's making me. Have to be getting ready for that," I said. "You know the final high school experience." She looked surprised which kind of bothered me: like I couldn't get a date or something.

The truth was that I could've gotten a date. I'd gotten a few over the year since she'd left for college, but I hadn't really wanted to date; it was always mom pushing me. I only wanted Sandra even Helen Morgan couldn't get me to commit though she came the closest. Nor had I planned on going to the prom, but mom had forced the issue and I just couldn't turn her down.

"Oh, and who are you taking?" said Sandra.

"No, no one, going single-o. But, it'll be fun. I like to dance, and so I'll go and have some fun," I said.

"You don't have a date?" she said. "But . . ."

"It's okay. I've been to dances before without 'em. The prom is just another fancy dance," I said.

"Hell no it's not," she said. "And what about the parties afterward? You going to any of those?"

"Don't know yet. I'll be playing that by ear," I said. She nodded.

We talked a little longer, and she told me at least forty times how she knew that no one was a better tutor than me, no one in the whole world. I offered as to how I agreed with her, but I did have the decency to laugh at my own display of egotism.

******

Mom had spared no expense in getting me ready to go to the prom: styled haircut, new suit—not a rented one—new shoes. I was ready. I would be using her car, a three year-old Chevy, and nice it was.

I was just about to leave. I kissed mom goodbye and headed for the door. But then the doorbell rang.

I was there, so I answered it. A very large black man stood there smiling. He was wearing a suit.

"Mister Dorne," he said.

"Yes," I said.

"Your chariot awaits," he said.

"Huh?"

"He motioned to a stretch limo behind him at the curb. Standing next to it was Helen of Troy, Cleopatra, Catherine Zeta-Jones all in the person of nineteen year-old Sandra Hill. I was frozen in my tracks.

"If you please, sir," said the man whose name I would learn was Herman. He was our chauffer. I followed him out to the limo.

"You wouldn't accept any money for all you did, so I am here to pay up in grand style anyway," said Sandra.

"Huh?" I said. I felt like crying, yelling, laughing—something. But, I just couldn't get my head into gear.

"Come on, handsome. Open the door for me and let's get in," she said. I obeyed her. Jesus she was beautiful! Oh and Roger Grimes? I studiously avoided speaking, thinking, wondering about him; tonight it was my turn. And, I was thrilled to note that my date for the evening seemed to be on the same page as me in that regard.

We arrived at the Knollwood Country Club at the same time as about half of the other students did. We were immediately surrounded by twenty friends of Sandra's. Me? I did get some attention, mostly smirks indicating wonder at my having the belle of the ball as my date.

Somebody spiked the punch, and we were feeling pretty good by around 9:00PM. Sandra and I danced away half the time and spent the other half socializing. And, no, she never left my side or did anything to indicate she was embarrassed to be with such an obvious nerd as was I. But, as to that, I was slated to be class valedictorian, and I was by now recognized as the best dance partner on campus; so I did get a deal of respect if not social acceptance of the kind that Sandra was used to.

We danced, and I let it all hang out. The things I—we—attempted on the dance floor should have been front page news.

While on the dance floor, we were invited to two parties after the midnight kill time. Sandra decided that we would hit them both. One was Helen Morgan's and the other Demetrius Davenport's.