The Spring Dance Patsy

NOTE: Everyone in this story is over 18 years of age.

*

"That sounds really mean," Stacy said.

"I know, but he'll survive," Connie replied, watching Penny get into Mick O'Malley's Camaro.

She didn't have much sympathy for Peter Corvalis. He's just a geek.

His humiliation was the last thing standing in the way of her and Stacy getting on Penny's good side. And if we're on Penny's good side, she thought, we'll be on the good side of the rest of the popular crowd. Half of whom they would have to deal with next year when they all started college at the same State school. It might be the only way to get into a good sorority.

She knew it was cruel, but she wasn't going to let any soft feelings stop her. She never had, and she wasn't going to start now.

"It's not that bad, Stace. Besides, it's him or us, right? He'll get over it. Hell, he's probably used to it."

She didn't care either way. A few more months, and she wouldn't have to worry about any of them anymore. Except the ones that were going to State along with her.

Stacy looked dubious, but she shrugged, the kind of shrug that Connie knew meant that she would at least go along with it. Once they started making their plans, she'd probably get into it.

===

"Should I take my bra off?" Connie asked. They were waiting under a mature oak at the edge of a farmer's field just outside the chain link fence that marked the edge of the school property.

"We're trying to tease him, not flash him," Stacy said.

"I know. But, you know, it's a little more tease-ey, right?"

"I guess. I'm not taking mine off."

Connie smiled. Yeah, that would be way beyond teasing. Stacy had much bigger tits than Connie did. And a much thinner shirt today. For Connie, the difference between bra and braless would hardly be noticeable under her cotton blouse. Unless her nips started poking out.

She wondered if she should try to make that happen,

"There he is," Stacy announced. "Now or never." Connie made a snap decision. With a quick look into the school parking lot to make sure nobody was watching, she reached under her blouse and did that magic act that ended with her pulling the bra out through one loose sleeve.

All in the time it took Peter to get halfway across the parking lot to the narrow gap in the fence that he used to short-cut his walk home every day.

The informal spring dance was tomorrow, Saturday, the second of April. With luck, Peter would be all dressed up, standing outside the doors waiting for two girls who would never show. Maybe he'd even have flowers, that would be a nice touch. Everyone would laugh at him. Especially Penny.

Yeah, it was mean. But you can't make an omelette without breaking some eggs, right? She soothed what little conscience she had by reminding herself that he would only have a couple more months to deal with everyone sniggering and pointing when they saw him in the hallway.

The tree they were under spread a wide canopy and thick roots that kept the winter wheat at bay for yards around it. But there were other, smaller trees and shrubs against the fence that amounted to an impartial screen against views from the direction of the school. The shoulder high wheat crop did the same from all the other directions.

"Hey Peter!" Connie yelled, her voice full of fake enthusiasm.

The tall, lanky boy broke his stride to look over at them. They took a few steps away from the tree toward him, their most endearing smiles on their faces. Connie hoped he didn't feel ambushed, though they were in fact ambushing him.

He stopped and turned toward them with a look around, as if he was worried about being caught at something. As if he felt guilty about talking to a girl.

He had to be at least 6 foot 4, Connie thought, and barely over 150 lbs. He wore black Levis that stretched over his bony hips without the least hint of a bulge. A black shirt emblazoned with a heavy metal band from the 70s or something hung loose over his hollow chest.

The geek picture was made complete by a hook nose surrounded by little craters that spoke of untreated acne in his recent past, and a bag hanging from his thin arm that they knew contained a laptop computer.

Connie would have felt sorry for him if she had the least bit of empathy in her. Aside from a certain look in his eye, Connie found him entirely unattractive. And worse, unpopular. It made what she and Stacy were about to put him through more delicious.

One look at him and one look at them would tell anyone watching that he was going to be putty in their hands.

Stacy was a girl with ample curves all up and down her frame without looking fat. Just well-built. Connie was the small one, the kind that might be a cheerleader, or the kind that could look mousy if she had been a loser geek like Peter.

She was neither, for a variety of reasons. She knew she was far from the hottest girl in school, but even further from being the ugliest. And to a guy like Peter, just being willing to talk to him outside of school would make him think she was the hottest thing on two legs.

He stood frozen, staring at them, not ogling them, but not entirely focusing on their eyes as they approached. "So, you live in Wheatlands?" she asked, a lame attempt to break the ice.

Wheatlands was the subdivision on the other side of this field, named after the similar fields that had been razed and dug up to build the houses and streets. It wasn't a slum, but it was pretty downscale for their suburban school district.

"Uhh, yeah. I'm headed home."

He stood turned partially turned toward them, partially toward the path through the wheat, his posture saying he expected to be on his way any minute.

Wow, this guy's really got game, Connie thought sarcastically. This was going to be easy, but she couldn't rush it.

"You don't have a girlfriend?" Stacy asked. Connie winced. Sure enough, Peter stiffened. It was obviously and predictably a sensitive subject with him, and worse, it gave him a whiff of the nature of their approach. She would have to teach Stacy a little finesse for next time.

He didn't reply, just stared at them with a hard look. A hard guy to make small talk with.

She tried to recover, but with the subject broached, she thought it best to just ease right into the main point. "We were just talking about the dance tomorrow."

"Out here?"

"Umm, yeah, well, we didn't want to be overheard."

"We were talking about who we might like to go with," Stacy added.

"You must have plenty of choices," Peter said in a sour tone, turning his body toward the path.

"Wait," Connie said. He paused, but didn't turn toward them. "We... well, there's nobody we really want to go with."

"OK?"

"We were trying to decide if we should just go, by ourselves."

"OK?"

Jeez. Peter wasn't giving her a single break.

"And then you just happened by." She sidled up closer to him.

He looked down at her, she was close enough - in his space - that he had to look down. He could surely smell the perfume she wore.

He looked over at Stacy, two steps behind, then back at Connie. "What's this got to do with me?"

Connie took a deep breath, and took the plunge. She put her hand on Peter's upper arm and let her breast lightly brush his elbow, though she had to lean in too close in order to make contact. "Maybe you'd want to go with us?"

He looked down at her, at her chest a hair's width from his elbow. His face turned a light red and he stammered, "What?" He looked over at Stacy, and Connie used the opportunity to surreptitiously undo the top button of her shirt.

Peter seemed to regain his composure, and backed away from Connie just enough so there was no more risk of contacting her chest. She let go of his arm.

"You're not serious." He said it as a statement, not a question, and both his face and voice were hard again. He was looking straight at her, so she didn't dare take a glance to see if that was all that was getting hard.

"Why not?" Connie asked, trying to look innocent. She looked over at Stacy. Stacy would be much better at this part. For one, letting her tits accidentally brush his arm would be a lot more believable. Hell, it would be unavoidable if she was standing half as close to him as Connie was.

Peter looked at her like she was an idiot. "You know why."

Connie looked at her friend. "Stace, what do you think?"

"I think it might be an idea."

Connie smiled up at him, still standing close. Peter looked down and she saw his eyes dart. He must have noticed the one button undone.

"So that is what you two were talking about over there? This feels like a practical joke."

"It's not, Peter. Why would you think that?"

"Listen," he said, glancing down again at her chest. He could probably see down her shirt a little. He licked his lips. "Look, I know that you're not dying to go to the dance with me."

Stacy approached him from the opposite side. She took his arm as Connie had before, Her boob definitely bumped him. "The more I think about it, the more I like it," she said. Putting on a sappy smile. He would have to see through that. Why not bat your eyelashes while you're at it, she silently reprimanded her friend.

She saw him look down, and saw his head freeze in position for a beat. Stacy's tit was still against his arm.

"Why would you want to go with me?" He asked Stacy.

"Well, for one, you're not as bad looking as you seem to think you are. I like tall guys."

Peter shook his head. Connie jumped in. "OK, let's be honest here. You're not the hottest guy in school. But you're not bad looking."

"And you have a certain quality about you, I don't know what..." Stacy said.

Connie detected a slight softening of his rigid posture. Did they find the crack in his armor? He had a girl on each arm now, and his head whipsawed between them. While he was looking Stacy's way, Connie undid one more button. It was getting a bit risky now, but she felt like they were on their way to sealing the deal.

Connie started to say something, but Stacy jumped in ahead of her. "Besides, guys like you..."

Peter cut her off. "What's that supposed to mean?"

Stacy smiled. Connie took the opportunity to step back closer to him, to touch his arm again and let her chest brush against him.

"I mean smart guys, guys who know computers. You're going to be rich one day, aren't you?"

Peter shrugged. "I hope so. But so what? You planning on marrying me?"

Stacy laughed. "Let's not get ahead of ourselves. I just mean that a girl would do well to broaden her horizons a little, right? You know, look beyond the usual jocks and movie stars."

"To the dorks and geeks right? But it's not like I have any money now. I don't even have a car."

Connie saw her opportunity. Stacy had laid some groundwork. She meant to build on it.

"We're not after money," she said. She turned enough so that he would get a better view down her shirt. He noticed. "It's just that, guys that maybe would have been ignored before, a girl starts to think twice about that."

"You mean ugly guys." His voice sounded bitter.

"No," Stacy insisted. "Guys who don't have... I don't know, the typical looks that a lot of guys have. The generic guys." Stacy moved her hand to his chest, lightly, as if it was just a careless gesture, but Peter noticed it and stiffened. A different kind of stiff this time, a hesitant, apprehensive stiffness.

Connie finished Stacy's thought after sharing a look with her that said they were really gelling now. "Guys that when you look a little deeper, have more going for them than you think at first."

His mouth worked and his eyes looked uncertain, but then his look got hard again and he moved half a step back, breaking contact with both of them. "I don't believe you," he said, shaking his head.

"Aw, c'mon, Peter. It'll be fun. Won't it, Connie?" Stacy gave her a meaningful look. 'Just go with this,' it said.

Connie put on what she hoped was a sexy smile, though the thought of "fun" with him threatened to turn her stomach. "Yeah, maybe," she said.

"What... what do you mean?"

Stacy stepped toward him, facing him directly now, right in his space. He looked like a deer in the headlights. "You know..."

"I don't dance," he said, missing her implication, or dismissing it.

"Look, you don't have to actually dance. We don't really know how to dance either. For the slow dances, all you really have to do is kind of rock back and forth a little."

"I don't know," he said.

Gotchya! Connie thought. He'd finally come off his hard 'no' stance.

"Show him, Conn," Stacy suggested.

"Show him what?" Connie didn't want to understand.

"How simple slow dancing is. How it's not really dancing."

Connie's jaw worked. Was Stacy actually suggesting that they slow dance? Right here in the farmer's field, in full view of the school? She looked back at the parking lot, It was all but empty, and all the buses were long gone.

"Sure," Stacy said, her eyes urging Connie to go along with it. She backed away, leaving room for Connie to stand in front of him.

Peter licked his lips nervously and looked around like he was expecting someone to jump out of the wheat field and tell him it was all a joke.

"We could go over there," Stacy said, pointing to the tree where they'd been standing earlier, before they'd backed him several steps down the path toward home. It was a much less exposed spot. At least, it would feel like it was.

Peter didn't react, so Stacy took his hand and pulled him in that direction. He went, almost willingly.

OK, Connie, just do one pretend slow dance. You can get through this. They stood face to face. She put her hand on his shoulder. He stood rock still, not moving, his eyes darting from Connie to Stacy to the parking lot, and back to Connie's chest.

Neither of them moved until Stacy reached in and took one of his hands, putting it on Connie's waist. Then the other on her shoulder. Connie moved her own hand to his waist, and they stood like that, rock still, hands on waist and shoulder.

Stacy pulled out her phone and pulled up a slow song. Connie couldn't help swaying with the music. "See, this is all we have to do," she said. She looked down at his feet, then up at his face, encouraging him to at least move.

He finally did, just shuffling his feet an inch or two one way, then the other. Connie started to enjoy it. Until Stacy moved behind her. "You're supposed to be closer together," she said, and gave Connie a hard shove.

Before she realized it, she was pressed against Peter. The hand on his waist got pushed behind him, and his had too, as it was now on the small of her back. He stopped shuffling his feet, frozen.

Her chest was pressed against his, and she could feel her tits squashed between them. Their hips were pressed together too, and... and... "Oh!" she yelped, stepping quickly back. She looked down before she could stop herself, and sure enough, those black jeans showed something more than they had a minute ago.

She looked at his face, and he was blushing deep red. She looked at Stacy. She had her hands over her mouth and her eyes wide, staring right at Peter's boner. "Oh god!" she said.

"I'm... sorry," Peter croaked out, pulling his hips back in a futile effort to withdraw the bulge in his tight jeans. He looked like he wanted to run, to just take off without even picking up his laptop bag.

"Peter," Stacy said in a commanding voice. "It's OK."

Connie might have disagreed with that, but she wasn't going to say anything. Their social futures hung in the balance, and if this scared him off, they'd be doomed to hang with the losers for their entire college career. They might as well actually go out with Peter if that was the case. She shuddered at the thought.

But he didn't leave. Stacy's tone had pinned him like a bug. She went on. "It's a natural thing, Peter. You couldn't help it. It's nothing to be embarrassed about."

Peter's blush barely diminished, and he was still standing hunched over. He'd picked up his laptop bag and was holding it in front of his crotch. Connie could barely suppress a laugh.

Stacy stepped right up to him and pulled the bag away. "Don't be embarrassed," she said, looking straight into his eyes. "I'm sure Connie takes it as a compliment." She looked over her shoulder. "Don't you, Conn?"

Connie stammered out a half-hearted agreement. "It just means you think she's good-looking, right?" Stacy said. He nodded meekly. "It's just what happens when a man finds a woman attractive."

He stared pleadingly into her eyes. She gave him a firm but sympathetic look. "Do you find me attractive?"

He nodded again, and his eyes dropped to her chest before darting back up to her eyes. "If you go to the dance with us," she said, "we can slow dance there."

He sucked in a breath, then his eyes went wide. "What if..." he gestured with his hand in the general direction of his penis.

Stacy gave him a broad smile. "It might be nice," she said. "I haven't gotten to slow dance with you yet."

He gaped, and his jaw dropped. Stacy held her arms out and stepped closer to him. She had to take his hands and put them on her hip, and on her shoulder, then she put her hands in the corresponding positions.

"Conn, can you turn on the music?"

Connie felt like things were getting way ahead of her. But she had no reason to object, and didn't want to blow it, so she did as Stacy asked.

Stacy had seemed reluctant earlier, but now she was all in. Connie couldn't figure it, until something dawned on her. No! Was Stacy getting into it? Getting into *him*?

She was certainly putting on a good show. If she had Connie at least wondering, she must have Peter fully convinced.

Especially since they were now swaying to the music, their bodies pressed tightly together. If he was paying Stacy the same compliment he'd paid her, there was no way she didn't know it.

Wait, were her hips moving a little more than just to the music? Oh god, they were. She was actually grinding on him.

Peter just stared over Stacy's shoulders. He caught Connie's eye and quickly looked away, then broke their embrace.

"I... I'm sorry, Stacy," he said, again. He stared down at the ground, not even trying to hide the fact that he was, apparently, hard as a rock. It was pretty futile in those pants.

Stacy put her hands on his shoulders. "Don't be," she said. She hesitated and looked at the ground. "I kinda liked it."

His eyes went wide, then he got an expression like he'd had a sudden realization. He took a full step back. He looked from one girl to the other, then at his computer bag, which sat on the ground behind Stacy.

"I get it. You almost had me," he said, then almost pushed past Stacy to get to his bag.

She caught his arm and looked at him. "No. Peter. I mean it." she gave him a shy look. "We mean it, right Connie?"

Connie nodded, just along for the ride now. But it looked like Stacy had pushed too far. It seemed like they'd lost him now. She had to do something. She rushed up to them and stood facing Peter from two feet away while Stacy clung to his arm.

"Peter. We mean it. We want to go to the dance with you. What happened... " she glanced down at the tent that still stood in the front of his pants. "I liked it too. It feels nice to know a man finds a girl... attractive. And you know, girls get excited too. It just doesn't show as much."

"I don't believe you," he said, making another move for his bag. Stacy held him back. They both knew that if he got that bag back in his hand, they'd lost.

"How can I convince you?" Stacy asked.

Peter got a look like he felt like he had the upper hand, like he had nothing to lose. He glanced at Stacy, then over at Connie. His eyes dropped briefly to her chest, where two buttons stood open and the top of her bra, if she was wearing one, would have been visible.