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A high school student finds a grimoire that shows how to make magical disguises. |
Previously: "Like a Boss"  I miss him, Will, Sydney said. It gives you a pang. "Well, he misses you too," you say, and reach across to clasp her hand between yours. "So if we wanna go off, you and me, like we did yesterday—" "That's not what I meant," she says, and pulls away. "Unless you're talking about going somewhere and taking off that mask and being yourself again, for a little while." "We could do that," you say. Your heart leaps up. "That doesn't fix the problem with him." she snaps. "With the guy we left back in your place. I wanted him and that girl to go out together, Will! So, you know, when we took the masks off and would be ourselves, we'd still be together." "Well, why can't we?" She gives you a look, and starts scrolling through her phone. You suspect what she's going to show you long before she finds it. "It must've been your asshole buddy Chen," she says when she shows you the x2z thread that is exploding with news that Will Prescott and Sydney McGlynn were going out but have just busted up. "I don't know why he cares so much, but who else knew that would say anything? It wouldn't have been, um, me who said anything about the break up. Would it have been Will who said something?" "No." You glower at the screen. "God damn it. I'll find out from Chen what the fuck he was thinking." "That still won't solve our problem about what we're going to do about them. The other 'us'." Except it does solve it, doesn't it? In the sense that there is no solution—Will Prescott and Sydney McGlynn are now busted up—so why worry? What you and Sydney should be worrying about, it seems to you, is where to put her so that you and she—that is, she and David Kirkham—can start fucking each other blind. You're about to broach the topic when Kelsey, her eyes flicking over at something behind your shoulder, go wide. She raises a warning finger, and you tense. "Hey Kelsey," a familiar and loathsome voice says. "We were actually talking about whether we'd run into you here." You glance up and over, and your toes curl. It's Geoff Mansfield, and Lisa Yarborough is with him. You had no idea that you still harbored such hard feelings against them. You saw them every day at school, but gradually you had put them out of your mind, and had totally forgotten them after things got exciting with the grimoire and with Sydney. But seeing them together now, here, with her leaning up against his shoulder, and him with his arm around her waist, you feel a boiling resentment. The cocksucker stole my girlfriend. And the cunt went off with him. So concentrated on these thoughts are you that it takes you a moment to realize that Mansfield is looking at you with an expression of curiosity. But not until he says, "We don't want to interrupt" do you realize what an odd sight it must be to find Kelsey and Kirkham together. Sydney must have had the same thought. "You're not interrupting, Geoff!" she exclaims with an oily and insincere smile. "Sit down! David?" she says, and after a moment of gaping incredulity at the implied order, you scoot over in the booth to make room. But still Mansfield and Lisa hesitate. Kelsey says, "We were just talking about maybe having David and his string quartet play out at the country club." She flashes you a quick, tight smile. Lisa looks at you in surprise. "You've got a string quartet?" she asks. She sounds like an airhead. "I've got a cello," you growl. "I play in a string quartet." "So what's the story?" Geoff says. He touches Lisa on the shoulder, gently pushing her toward Kelsey's side of the booth, and sliding in next to you. (It makes your skin crawl.) "There a function going on at the country club?" he asks Kelsey. "Maybe. We're talking over ideas." Her eyes dart between his face and yours. "How much did you say you'd charge?" * * * * * It's a tedious conversation that follows, as you and Sydney try to improvise a plausible account of why you are meeting at a coffee shop. The only good that comes of it, so far as you're concerned, is that you've not got a reason to be talking to Kelsey, so maybe it won't look weird if anyone happens to notice that you've started texting each other. After that, you make your escape. You go straight home from the coffeeshop, where you whip up a quick and dirty chicken salad for your mom for when she gets off work, but are too angry to have any for yourself. But as you're fixing dinner, you get a text from Mindy, reminding you that the two of you were supposed to get together. So you tell her to come on over, then kick open Tad's bedroom door and tell him to take his shit and bike over to a friend's house for the evening. "Chen's coming over," you tell him, "and we're gonna be practicing. You know you hate it when we do that." You can tell he doesn't believe you—you can tell he knows it's a girl who's coming over—but he doesn't argue, and makes a fast exit. "Hey," Mindy says when you open to door for her. She's leaning against the doorframe with a pouty, smoldering expression. "You gonna feed me?" she asks. "I'm starving." "Me too." You pull her inside, kick the door shut, and take her in both hands. She's still in that sleeveless, short-legged onesie, and you gather her up in great fistfuls while kissing sloppily. "I am so hungry," she pants when you break off long enough to put your mouth down between the tops of her breasts. "I haven't eaten— Dinner yet!" she gasps. "I got two-day-old lasagna in the fridge," you mumble before ducking down to nibble at her some more. "Leftovers?" she whimpers. "Lasagna's always better after a coupla days." You grip her about the waist and shoulders, and dig at her with your swelling erection. "You gotta wait for the juices to ... marry!" Her knees buckle. You gnaw and paw at each other all the way down the hall to your bedroom. This is the first time Mindy has been over to Kirkham's—previous times they'd scratched at each other in the back of her car—and if she's nervous it comes out as excitement. You kick the door closed behind you as you feel for the zipper for her onesie, but she falls backward onto the bed, dragging you atop her. You stroke the side of the bare leg she throws over your shoulder, and she arches her back and groans, but then goes limp as you dig under her for that damn zipper. She gives you no hints or guidance, but only makes little mewling noises as she simpers into your face. At last you find where the thing comes undone, and you pull her up—though she's gone limp as a boneless fish—and tug the onesie forward off her shoulders and over her bosom, exposing her bra. Then you let her fall back onto the bed while you pull it down over and off her hips and legs, leaving her only in her underthings. She writhes lazily on the bed and moans. You're straining at your own zipper now, so you pause to kick off your shoes, tear off your shirt, and pull off your own shorts and underwear, to expose the lean but powerful body you've stolen. Your cock is stiff and rigid and points accusingly at Mindy. She lifts her head to squint down at it. "Mmmm!" she groans, and lays back down. "Get it inside me, Davie," she whimpers, and you forgive the jarring endearment as she pushes down the front of her panties and rubs herself. "I'm wet for you already!" You push your hand between hers to feel at the tangled bush. It is sopping. "Mm, you are," you grunt. You sniff your fingertips, then lick the dampness off them. She gurgles appreciatively. You push her legs apart, clamber up between them, and brace yourself over her on one elbow as you guide your shaft into her with your free hand. Her eyes go wide as you slide in, and she throws her arms around your shoulder and raises her hips to welcome you in. Thrust and withdraw, thrust and withdraw, thrust and withdraw. It's only seconds before your load builds, backs up, holds, and explodes within her. She closes her eyes, screams in the back of her throat, and wraps her legs around your hips. You can tell she isn't climaxing, but that doesn't matter. You hold the erection inside her and dig it in deeper while biting her all over. When she does climax beneath you, she's like a whale breaching the ocean surface in an orgasmic spray. * * * * * After she's gone—you'd scared her off by telling her your mom will be home soon; you didn't feel like dealing with her after having your fun—you lay on your bed with your shorts open, fondling your heavy cock. It's coming to life again, but not with memories of your tumble with Mindy. You're toying with ideas of where to put Sydney. The two obvious candidates are Mindy and Ximena Calderon, Kirkham's ex-girlfriend. But you're more excited by two other possibilities. The first is Andrea Varnsworth, the achingly desirable captain of the swim team. After all, if you've got the power to put your girlfriend anyplace, go for the best. But even this pales beside the idea that is really getting you revved. It comes from the anger and resentment you felt at the coffee shop, at Lisa and Mansfield. What better revenge on them than by slipping Sydney into Lisa's place ... and then using Kirkham to seduce "her" from Mansfield the way he seduced her from you? Or, you sigh to yourself, maybe I should leave the choice entirely to Sydney. Next: "Someone Old, Someone New, Something Stolen ..." |
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