Dirty Little Secret

Quick Author's Note: Warnings are for future chapters.

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Dirty Little Secret: Chapter One


I tilted my chair back on two legs and huffed my hair out of my eyes. There I was, studying at the olde kitchen table. On a Friday night. What's that, Satan called? It's freezing in hell? I know. But it was the Friday before first semester finals so I figured I should try to study. Try being the key word. I had been totally lost after the first week of classes. Now it was just plain hopeless. I stared at my chemistry textbook, willing all of the crap about hydrocarbons and atomic weights and balancing equations to make sense. But they didn't so I was still just sitting, staring, uncomprehending. I lifted my gaze to the clock. The hands were pointing at roughly 9:40. The house was totally silent save for my own breathing. Normally this would mean something was horribly wrong, but not this weekend. My aunt was at some librarian convention (what did they do? Sit around and tell each other to be quiet?) and my cousin Dave was... who the hell knew? He was supposed to be there, making sure I didn't burn the house down or have wild parties or whatever. But he'd left around lunchtime after warning me to study or else.

I started laughing as it hit me. Here I was, a party-happy high school junior, sitting at home unsupervised and I was studying. Studying! I leapt up and scrambled for my cell phone on the kitchen counter. Fuck this! Who's gonna study when they could be out on the town, having reckless fun. I scrolled through my contacts, dismissing about half because I'd never called them back (and who wants to deal with patching that up?) Finally I settled on a select few, calling each in turn. And goddamn, they all said they weren't allowed to go out. Fine. I'd have fun on my own, brag about on Monday.

I slid my phone into my front pocket, doublechecked that my wallet was in a back one, and went in search of coat and shoes. I found three different single shoes before finding a pair of beat up old red high tops. I was fairly sure they were mine but Dave and I have the same size feet so who knows. After I tied them on, I pulled on a hoodie and a fleece jacket over that. It was a an oddly warm December for the area, getting barely into the 40s at night. I locked the door behind me as I left, heading for the downtown.

Half an hour later I was strolling past cafes and closed flower shops, attorneys' offices, and bookstores. As nice as coffee would have been I wasn't in the mood for the crappy pseudo-political rant poems that I was sure to hear. I was all for freedom of expression but it always sounded a bit like whining to me.

So I kept walking, hands thrust into my jeans pockets.

I almost walked past the squalid little building but I stopped and turned to stare at it. The place squatted on the corner of a city block, totally out of place. I had no idea what it had once been--fast food joint? garage? crackhouse?--but now the windows were covered in plywood and plywood in graffiti and everything in dirt. It almost blended into the dark of the night. The building was called the House or something and local bands loved it as a venue. I had no idea who owned it, if anyone. The only time I'd been to it was when my friend dragged me to meet some little emo kid she was trying to mack on. A month later she decided he was too young for her and pressured me into taking him to our homecoming dance. It was demeaning being given the leftovers so I deflowered him and gave him back.

I smiled at the memory of our little exchange. Feeling nostalgic, I drifted to the door. Inside I was overwhelmed by blaring guitar music and the number of people and the flashing lights. I stood there, letting everything wash over me. Though the crowd was very excited, I didn't catch the vibe. I bought myself a Mountain Dew. Then I wedged myself near the stage.

A lone figure was on the raised platform. His blond head was tucked down, shaggy hair obscuring his face. He had a plain red electric guitar slung low and I watched him play, transfixed. At first it seemed like he was doing nothing more than playing normally--hammer ons, pull offs, power chords, slides, licks, harmonics; strumming away. But as I watched I realized he was carressing the damn instrument. His fingers flew up and down and around the fretboard with almost clinical accuracy, as if he were slowly and methodically bringing his lover to climax. And so he was. As the song crescendoed, I felt my being soar along with the notes. I let myself rise above the current circumstances. It was almost as if I were watching over all of this rather than seeing with my own two eyes. I wondered who this superman was.

As soon as I knew, I wished I didn't. The man flipped his hair out of his face. I gaped. That was-- my choir teacher? Mr. Jameson? I felt odd as it sunk in. Then I remembered me thinking about him making someone orgasm. Suddently I didn't want to have a fun Friday night. I wanted to be back home, wrestling with Latin declensions and Statistical equations. I didn't want to think about how erotic my teacher had just appeared.

I turned quickly and found myself face to face with a young woman.

A cheeky smile spread across her wide, pale face. Her hair was dyed dark purple and cropped boyishly short. Her clothes were too tight and revealing to fool anyone about her intentions.

"Hi," she chirped. "You're a hottie."

I gave her a doubtful look.

"Oh, you are. Do you like him?" she asked abruptly. "I'll introduce you when he's done."

"No," I said flatly and made to leave.

She pressed a plastic cup into my hand.

"It's so hot in here. Better keep hydrated."

Being the dumbass that I was, I took a big swig. My mouth was flooded by the taste of heavily spiked Coke, carbonated and sweet and burning all the way down. Before I could regret it too much, I felt the alcohol start to make me feel warm and fuzzy and happy. I'd always been a lightweight, I couldn't handle more than beer very well. So I took a second drink. And a third. Things were getting a lot better. The girl was chatting me up and only had to physically stop me from leaving once. I barely noticed as she cleverly manuevered me backstage and over to a couch already occupied by one busy couple. The back of my knees bumped up against the couch and collapsed. The girl straddled my lap. I experienced some, ah, personal growth. Her lips clamped down on mine, hungry, demanding, her tongue teasing my closed lips.

I slid my hands up her sides then back down, down to her butt. I squeezed her ass and pulled her closer. Her hands teased in the vicinity of my pants zipper but came up to grip my shirt's hem. As she was attempting to pull it off (I'm not helpful when I'm friendly), I glanced over at the other couple, noting they were in a similar position, girl on top, guy on bottom. Then the guy glanced over at me.

Grey eyes grew large as they stared at me. I continued staring back. Then those grey eyes narrowed. One skank went flying then two. Mr. Jameson hauled me off the couch by the arm and dragged me out the back door.

"Ow," I complained, then again, louder.

He flung my arm down and glared at me.

"What the hell were you doing there?"

"I go there all the time," I lied, feeling sorta defensive.

"So that doe-- Have you been drinking?!" He grabbed me by the shoulders and I struggled ineffectually to get free.

"Yeah, I do it all the time." There, it was a little closer to the truth.

"You go out and get drunk and make out with skanks like that on a regular basis?" A look of disgust flashed across his face.

"Well, no," I said, drooping a little.

"Good," he returned roughly. "I swear to God, Torrence, if I ever see you there again, you'll have detention till you're 40!"

I frowned. "You can't do that!"

"Try me!" He sighed, a great exhale that seemed to rid him of all his anger and leave him with nothing to run on but exhaustion. "Go home, Shay, I don't want to worry about you anymore tonight."

And, feeling fuzzy, I turned and toddled back to my house. Halfway there, I stopped. I stared back in the direction I had just come.

Wait... Mr. Jameson was worried? About me?


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Thanks for reading. Comments are appreciated! Also, chapter two will be up soon.