Sarah wordlessly made Jon follow her for quite some distance. She turned down one hallway, and then the next, out one door and in another. Jon was a senior and had attended this high school for nearly four full years by this point. He thought that he knew the hallway layout like the back of his hand. But the further Sarah took Jon, the less sure he knew where he was. At one point, he realized he didn't have any idea where he was at all.
And shouldn't the first bell have rung by now? A part of Jon wanted to put voice to this thought, but a much bigger part found itself focused on the girl before him. Focused on the blonde hair in its high ponytail, so similar to Karyn's, bobbing against the back of a starched-white blouse that was tucked into a pair of pink high-waisted skinny jeans that seemed to be just plastered onto the cheerleader's behind, all atop a matching pink pair of ballet flats.
For a period of time that Jon couldn't seem to measure, that form before him was his entire world. The hallways around them seemed to fade away completely.
After a minute, or an hour, or possibly an entire year, Sarah stopped and turned around, and the world around Jon became clear again.
They were still in school. Or at least, they were in a hallway that appeared to belong in his school. Pure white walls with a single stripe of blue at around shoulder height and a single stripe of gold at around hip height, denoting the school colors. Dark gray industrial-looking carpeting beneath their feet. But there was something eerie about the hallway that Jon couldn't quite put his finger on. There were no lockers, no posters on the walls. The classroom doors were un-decorated, and Jon couldn't see or here or in any way sense any other people in the hallway or in the classrooms other than himself and Sarah. But other than that, this could have been, it should have been, a hallway in his high school.
"I know that you let Karyn play a little game of copy-the-cheerleader." Sarah put her hand against Jon's shoulder and pinned his back to the wall.
The girl wasn't overpowering him. She wasn't even applying very much pressure. It just seemed that when her hand touched his shoulder, his body received the message to back itself into the wall. And so he did.
"And I figured," Sarah continued, "that she shouldn't be the only one who gets to play."
Sarah removed her hand, but Jon still did not move. Did not think to move. He just stood, compliant, as Sarah's hands crept under the hem of Jon's T-shirt, unbuttoned his jeans, and slid themselves into his boxers.
An involuntary shiver went up Jon's spine, as the cheerleader's fingers came in direct contact with a sensitive part of his anatomy. She gripped confidently and slowly drew her fingers across his wrinkly sack and up the underside of his stiffening shaft, pressing it into his lower abdomen with her palm. The pressure sent more shivers up Jon's spine.
The Sarah changed direction, pushing downwards once again, and the sensation was gone. No shivers, no pressure. Jon expected an uncomfortableness, a chafing, as Sarah's motion went "against the grain" so to say, and should have pulled his skin in painful directions. But instead Jon felt only Sarah's hand moving downward unobstructed until it curled down underneath him. And for a brief moment, Jon could swear he felt a single finger enter inside of him.
But then the sensation was gone, as Sarah drew her hands back out, leaving a thin, delicate elastic waistband to snap snugly back into place upon Jon's hips. More delicately and more snugly than what was familiar to Jon.
But he didn't have time to dwell on the sensation, as Sarah quickly began tucking Jon's T-shirt into his jeans, as she tugged his waistband upward, higher than Jon recalled his jeans sitting on him, and causing them to feel... the word "snug" popped into Jon's mind again. They didn't feel tight or uncomfortable. They just felt snug in a very unfamiliar way.
With her hands now just above Jon's belly button, Sarah brought the closures of his jeans together. For a moment, Jon felt a tightness, a pinching in his waist. It was the feeling you get when you're trying to button up a pair of pants that are too small for you, and for a moment Jon questioned internally whether his pants were designed to be buttoned so high up in the first place. But then that tightness went away, and Sarah successfully buttoned the closure. Then she zipped him up, and gave a series of small tugs upwards around the circumference of Jon's waistband, until her hands met again at Jon's back.
Jon looked down to see the back of Sarah's head obscuring everything below it. That small voice in the back of Jon's head piped up and said that this should feel somehow sexual. But it didn't. It felt clinical. Like Jon was a mannequin that Sarah was adjusting.
Jon felt an internal tug that made him stand up straighter, matching a movement Sarah made at his back. It felt like she was pulling the sides of his back in towards his center.
Then she let go. And she took two big steps backwards.
"There," Sarah's face was slightly flushed with her efforts. "See, Karyn got to copy a bunch of my top half, so I figure you should get to copy some of my bottom half."
With a small flourish, Sarah stepped to the side, revealing a full-length mirror that hadn't been behind her a moment ago.
Pink, high-waisted skinny jeans were absolutely plastered onto his legs, in a precisely identical way to how Sarah's were plastered against hers. They shared an identically smooth belly, and identically rounded hips and thighs. And they had an identical gentle slope, unobstructed by any obstacle, that dipped from that smooth belly, down between and underneath those thighs.
