Narrator: Junior Archvale
In the darkness, I eyed the length of the Penningway driveway. There were four cars parked in it, and I was pretty sure I'd seen Joshua's parents' second car in the garage. Thus, I was surprised at how many of the remaining guests could both drive and get a car for the night. The two in front were used, older models. The porch light gave me a good look at the third, which was an old junker, rusty at the edges.
So, I was surprised when Crystal took a clicker out of her purse and hit the unlock button. The fourth car lit up from the inside, exposing itself to be a stunning red porsche. I gaped in astonishment.
"My daddy owns a car dealership," she reminded me.
"I'm not a car person, I mean I don't fantasize about a dream car or anything. But... woah!"
"You wanna drive her?" Crystal grinned.
"No, no -- I d-don't know how to drive," I admitted. "I wouldn't want to start learning in something like that. And, well, it's no wonder you managed to attract even a gay guy."
She looked at me sternly, "Too soon."
I blushed. "I'm sorry." I paused. "Wait, it's too soon to joke about it but it's not too soon to --"
"Fine, what I meant to say was, give Greg a little respect... but that's a little bit too condescending to say to someone like you."
"Oh, well, thanks... I guess." I smiled as I got into the passenger side door. "It's cozy." Luxurious.
"Yup," she said, turning the keys in the ignition. "Don't worry, I'm no Alice Cullen with this thing."
"Good," I said, picturing us speeding down the street fast enough to cause a sonic boom. The grin was hard to get off my face. "Besides, it's not yellow with Turbo 911."
"Unfortunately." Crystal chuckled. "Wait, quick, duck!"
"What!?" I said, but then I spotted the approaching car and tucked my body down below the dashboard.
"That was the Penningways," she told me. "I recognized them from a picture in the house. Let's hope they didn't recognize you, in case your parents call and they can't claim you're asleep in the basement."
"Good thinking," I said, bringing myself back up. I was surprised at how much leg room there was below the glove compartment. And immediately, impure thoughts of Crystal crouched down there, fellating me, crossed my mind. I pushed them away as quickly as I could. Of all the nasty, oppressive things to fantasize about...
"What are you thinking about?" she asked.
I blushed, and looked down to make sure there wasn't a bulge in my jeans to betray my thoughts. I assured myself that she probably had her eyes on the road most of the time.
"C'mon, you can tell me."
"I was thinking about you," I said, trying to keep my tone innocent.
She smiled, "In what way?"
"Ways in which the most of me would rather not think of you," I answered, unable to tell even a white lie to her.
After a moment, she snorted in sudden realization, "Oh, you're just gonna have to get used to that."
"I don't like objectifying women," I said, forlorn. "It goes against my moral fiber."
"Were you objectifying me?" she asked curiously, turning a corner.
"Hmmm..." she was thoughtful. "I guess I have to return the favour."
I gagged on laughter that I couldn't manage to fully smother.
She continued to look thoughtful as she drove, furrowing her delicate brow and scrunching her nose up ever so slightly.
I took a deep breath, and then another, as her unspoken thoughts slowly drove me to an unexplored state of mind.
"No," she murmured almost inaudibly, "that isn't quite good enough..."
"I wasn't very original," I whispered.
She turned to me suddenly, but she wasn't actually looking at me directly. It seemed as if her eyes were focused just behind my neck. And then she nodded, turning back to look at the street as a smile spread across her lips.
Part of me didn't want to be here, thinking these things... it was simply too casual. But I couldn't stop myself.
"Was that a fantasy or a plan?" I ventured.
"That depends whether you want out of the car anytime soon," she said, one hand on the steering wheel and the other nestling into her pocket.
I gulped, "This is... I'm sorry... it's too direct for me. I don't..."
She stopped me, putting the hand that was in her pocket against my lips. Then she spoke, "It's my fault. I'm the one that should be sorry. After fourteen wasted months with Greg, romance just seemed... like a waste of time. I'd rather get as intimate with you as I was with him as soon as I can..."
"Intimacy is more than just physical," I said.
"Fine, we can stay up all night talking about each other, then."
"Wait -- you intended to fuck all night?" I asked. I had been surprised by the non-verbal implications of what she'd said.
"Clearly, you've never had a girlfriend," she scoffed. "It's not so hard to do, especially when you're as young as we are. It's not like masturbating, CJ, you probably aren't going to deflate after just one climax. Or even five, if you're really trying. Oh, and you're sober..."
I was disturbed and overwhelmed by her words. "Talking into the night would make us hoarse, wouldn't it?"
"Yeah," she said with ambiguous sarcasm, "You certainly can't talk for the whole night."
"Well, water helps," I added.
"Which are you referring to?"
Talking, "Both... I guess."
"We're almost there," she told me. "In a minute or two, we'll be in the parking lot." She said it as if the parking lot was her destination, rather than her residence.
"You seem to be a very conscientious driver, I like that," I told her, trying to distract both of us from what she was undoubtedly thinking. "Oh, wow, my neck is strained from turning to look at you for nearly the whole ride."
"Need a massage?" she offered.
"A neck massage? Yes." I chuckled. "Thanks."
"A lover's touch often works better than any therapist's," she told me.
"I can imagine," I said, finding myself breathing deeply again. But this time, it had nothing to do with lust. "Is there anything I can do for you?"
"Your voice is enough, CJ," she assured me. "Just talk, and I'll rub."
She drove past several empty spaces to park her porsche between the shadows of two looming SUVs.
I didn't realize until that moment, that she was lower-upper class. She had a lavish residence, and some of the cars in the lot looked as expensive as hers. It was... intimidating, to say the least.
She got behind my seat, and began to rub away at my tense upper back, shoulder and neck muscles. I was surprised that something so innocent could feel so good. I'd been to see a massage therapist and a chiropractor for the headaches believed to be cause by my depression and anxiety, but nothing compared to what I was feeling now. I couldn't help but groan in pleasure as her hands moved between the head rest and the back of the chair, and despite how clean I was keeping my conscious thoughts, I had a full erection.
"You're tensing up again," she said suddenly. "Is something wrong? Am I hurting you?"
"No, keep going please, I'm fine," I assured her... and myself.
"Maybe I should be hurting you," she laughed.
"No, now is not the time," I said, as she lifted my arms up behind my head for some reason. "Tonight has just been really stressful."
"I know what you mean," she said. "I might ask you to do my back later. Oh, and by the way," she looked over my shoulder, "don't worry about that, you can't help it no matter how hard you try, trust me."
"Grapefruit," I said, referencing a gag from the TV show Kyle XY, in which one of the characters in such a situation thinks about grapefruits to avoid embarassing erections. I knew Crystal was familiar with the show.
She laughed, "That only works on television."
"I can see that -oooh, that's the spot. Right there. Thank you sooo much, Crystal." I had my arms behind my head. I assumed this was because it helps the body relax. Then, I heard two metallic clicks, and for a second I thought the headrest had slid down, but it hadn't as far as I could tell.
Crystal twisted her body around the chair, like a snake, with her face perpendicular to mine. Then, she gave me a deep, warm kiss. My instincts told me immediately that I wanted to put my arms around her, but when I tried to move them, I felt warm metal against my skin, holding my wrists against the metal that ran between the chair and the headrest.
She pulled away, leaving my mouth empty, and laughed as I flailed about in the handcuffs. I was not amused. Angrily, I tried to escape and slip my wrists through, but I couldn't. Then it all made sense. Checking the size of my wrists... glancing behind my neck at the headrest... this was very intentional.
I was growling, face red, as she unzipped my sweater and pulled my t-shirt up and over my head so that it hung behind my neck between both arms.
What angered me the most was that I had no way to reciprocate the affection she began to display, mouth hovering over my left nipple. By now, her weight was pinning down my legs so that I could only thrust my hips uselessly.
I was trapped, unable to take things more innocently and unable to even return any of the pleasure she was giving me. She wouldn't even come near my face, so I had nothing to kiss. I continued to struggle beneath her, which seemed to delight her, as I yelled and groaned in angry ecstasy.