Towards the end of lunchbreak
Sitting on the bleacher Steve went over his day in his head again:
When he had stormed out of the house this morning he’d been determined to go back to his home, explain everything to his parents and figure a way out of this mess. But after reading the letter on the bus there, he hadn’t been so sure about that plan when he got off the bus.
His first order of business back on the bus had been to call a truce with Jon. Because Steve didn’t doubt a minute that whoever had his name had not been bluffing about erasing his mind, if Jon or his bitchy sister didn’t keep their mouth shut. He had been sweating bullets until Jon accepted a few minutes later.
With that threat dealt with, Steve finally had the peace of mind to plan. He still knew who he was, but every time he tried to say it out loud or write it down he forgot what he was about to say. And if the letter was right and his parents did think their son never left, it would be so much harder to drop any hints they would pick up on. He still knew all the details about the last family vacation for example - or the dinner yesterday – and whatever had been done to his head didn’t keep him from talking about it. It was only when he tried to say out loud how he knew these things or his role in the events that he ran into a mental wall.
But what if his parents thought he was some crazy stalker? Or one of the dozens of other ways this could go catastrophically wrong happened?
In the end he had just been standing at the bus-stop staring at his old home down the street trying to find a workable plan to convince his parents that he wasn’t some crazed stranger or, failing that, get his hands on the magic piece of paper still hidden in his room. At one point he had even considered pretending to be his own girlfriend!
But when the next bus arrived half an hour later, Steve got on it without acting on any of these plans. Partly because at some point Mrs Kochak a few houses down had started watering her plants; to quietly keep an eye on him, Steve knew. (To be fair: breaking into his room had crossed his mind). If the bus had left without him, she would probably have walked over to have a little chat and make sure the girl with the unkempt hair and black band-shirt wasn’t a delinquent casing the joint. And it really would have been a chat not veiled accusation, Mrs Kochak didn’t really do accusations or pedantry. She was just a lady who had a bad experience when Steve was still a kid and now got way too nervous hearing all these reports about rising crime rates. It was kinda sweet in a sad way, how she felt the need to watch out for everyone while half the homes were empty and their owners at work.
But in this case, Steve had no idea what to say to her if she came over, so he’d fled and taken the bus to school instead.
The teacher had accepted Steves excuse about taking the wrong busline without much fuss and thus Steves first schoolday as Abigail had started. To his relief, he didn’t have any classes with Gibbson in the morning which was one less distraction. Because at some point he’d have to figure out how things stood between Steve and ,ugh, the guy Abigail had a huge crush on, going by the stuff on her phone.
Luckily both had been too chicken to make the first move, but letting Jon down would be a balancing act. There was still the danger of the guy running off to bawl his eyes out on the first friendly shoulder if Steve was to harsh with him. And having Jon whine to whoever was willing to listen, how the one girl who he thought gave him the time of the day, never really existed would be bad. Almost as bad as Jon leaving that conversation thinking he still had a shot, however small, at popping Abigails cherry. Because if Steve was still a guy and thought he’d have even the smallest chance with the blonde bombshell in the selfies on his new smartphone he would take it in the heartbeat.
While going through her smartphone on the drive from his home to school, Steve had found a bunch of selfies Abigail had sent to her friend last night asking for fashion advice…. And the three she had made afterwards. The ones of her standing in the middle of several discarded outfits in just her underwear giving the camera a smouldering look. As a guy he’d move heaven and earth to take her out on the most classy and impressive date possible, if it meant he had the tiniest chance to see that in the flesh.
Just the thought of a fox like that entering the restaurant at his arm was enough to make him excited. To say nothing of the mental image of walking her to her front door and seeing her give him that look as she tilted her head back ever so slightly to give him easier access to her lips. The feeling of her body pressed against his. Strong hands moving down her back to stroke and tease with a technique he had perfected over countless dates. Pressing against soft flesh firm enough to feel confident and manly without ever being rough. A tongue hungrily exploring her mouth. And in between, there’d be featherlight teasing touches that moved a bit closer to her honey pot each time.
The trick was not to advance any further as soon as she gave any hint of being uncomfortable. Not on the first or second date. Those weren’t about sex they were about setting expectations. Idiots like Biff would press on and pat themselves on the back if they got some on their first date…. and then whine because on the second date the girl was on guard ( if there even was a second date).
That was why Biff would be wasted on a 10 like that. He never got that dating was like dancing: The man was expected to lead, but he wasn’t in control. If the first thing you did was go for a triple pirouette and made the girl worry about where this was going, she’d clam up and mostly just go through the motions for a while before calling it off.
But if you took the time to read her signals, made sure she felt relaxed and comfortable before moving on to the more intricate stuff you could get her to try things she wouldn’t have dreamt of. Yuki had been protesting about having to left feet the entire way to the club, but in the end she’d been smiling widely as she twirled and gyrated at the end of his arm. Yeah he’d have shown the blonde such a good time!
The memory of Yukis flushed and happy face, was replaced by the image of Abigail smiling up at him. The blue halter-dress that had looked fairly modest on waifish Yuki now clung tightly to the blondes generous curves as she started to sway seductively to the music. In Steves mind their dance started out pretty harmless, but turned steamy rather quickly. Soon sensation of strong hands running down her back started to fill his fantasies again. He imagined the fingers caressing her naked back before dipping deeper. Giving her ample ass a languid squeeze as his other hand dipped even stroking her tigh just below the hem of her dress. And then -while he looked deep into her eyes as they swayed to a slow number- one of the hands would slip beneath the skirt to run a finger along her panties. The sharp intake of breath at the sudden exquisite sensation. The way she’d grind against him during the next number. The drive home shortly afterwards. Squirming slightly at the exquisite longing between her legs, that he’d expertly stoked all evening.
The kiss at the door.
Going in for a second one as she clung on for dear life.
Naturally she’d ask him to stay over. She’d lead him to her room, and wordlessly unzip her dress. The look on his face as he stared at herANDHOLYSHIT! WHEN HAD SHE STARTED TO BE THE GIRL IN THIS SCENARIO!!
As his mind crashed back to reality Steve became acutely aware of the flush on his face, the tight feeling in his nipples as they strained against the fabric of his shirt and the warm gooey sensation in his groin.
Cold water! He needed cold water!
If Steve hadn’t been so intent of banishing the episode to the darkest recess of his mind as he hurried towards the nearest bathroom, he might have noticed that the guy in his fantasy had started to look a bit like Jon towards the end.
