TG ARCHIVES;'Erica Unleashed in High School #3'{EricA}( F^B teen1 tg )[3!3]
"Erica Unleashed"
The continuing saga of young Erica Somerville, who at the beginning of the story was a 13 year old loser boy named Eric. You really should start at the beginning.
All the standard disclaimers apply.
Some of you might have read this part already over the past couple of days, but this is a revision. I was trying really hard to get the next installment posted and I'm afraid I sent it prematurely. Thanks to much to Nifty for replacing it with this.
Finally: Support Nifty or else these stories will go away and you'll have trouble finding what you need.
It was already established in my mind that in school I was a woman among a school full of immature children. Tomorrow, however, it wouldn't be just the freshman class any more. The rest of the student body would begin their first day of the new school year and that would present more challenges (and opportunities) for me.
I was snuggled up on the sofa with Donna eating popcorn and watching a movie and discussing what I should wear to school when I got a text from Freckles letting me know she just got home from work (it was 9:30 at night) and she would begin on my algebra homework immediately. I texted her back saying "good girl" then told her to pick up some nail polish for me on her way to school in the morning - something I'd let her do my nails with during lunch. Or maybe even first period.
I'd just found out the day before (our second day of 9th grade) that her family was in the catering business but I didn't have any details. They probably weren't making a lot of money (judging from her clothing) and I'm sure
it meant long hard hours for all of them - the reason a 14 year old has to go to work immediately after school and begin her homework (or in this case, MY homework) at 9:30. It wasn't simply a matter of doing the assignment and sharing answers. Herman (Mr Gunderson, our Algebra teacher) had a large pool of equations to solve that went along with the current lesson, so each student would get a different combination of problems from the pool. It wasn't as if I couldn't do algebra, but why bother with ten or fifteen equations? I would just do three of them, then check my answers against the ones Freckles (my nickname for the socially inept plain-looking ginger girl Grace) sent me. If they were right, I was satisfied I understood the lesson. Why should a girl like me waste any more time on it when I had better things to do, and someone else to do the work for me?
Less than an hour later I got an email from her .. all ten equations worked
out (showing her work, of course) and I verified her answers matched those for the three I did. I responded again "good girl" -- After all, I don't mind spending three seconds of my time rewarding my pet for an hour's work.
Then she wrote back "I love you". Is that pathetic or what? I'm sure it took a great deal of courage for Freckles to work up the nerve to say that to me, and it deserved a response. My response was to not answer and let her stew for a few hours. I couldn't wait to find out more about her family and the family business.
My experience with Bobby in the conference room taught me I should always have a plastic Ziploc bag handy, so I made sure to stick a few of them in the book bag I carried to and from school. We would have a special place in the freezer for "evidence" - a collection of sperm collected from boys and men that would be used to ruin their lives if the circumstances called for it.
Our first perspective victim was Ron. Remember him? His father was principal at North Central High. The second baggie might not be useful as the napkin spent half a day wadded up in Bobby's trouser pocket, but we had it just in case. There would be more .. more specimens we might never use, but it was a comfort knowing we had them, if only to use for leverage. After all, if my own little secret got out it could change everything, so it would be
nice to have some blackmail material.
Friday was day three of school for the freshman class and day one for the others. Now everyone else would be showing up and the campus was pure mayhem compared to the previous couple of days. As I said, the freshman classes were primarily contained in a single wing of the school, but some of them weren't, and some of the older students would take classes in the freshman wing.
More boys for me to toy with, older boys who thought the freshmen girls would look up to them because they were older and more experienced? Yeah, right!
It wasn't as if I needed to carry a bulky book bag -- that's what boys are for. Boys, and Grace. I saw my eager little freckled pet waiting for me at
the dropoff point outside the school. I simply handed my backpack off to her, then slid my arm under her other one, and walked her into our first period study hall classroom. "Did you miss me?" I asked. The poor infatuated girl nodded shyly, her eyes in their usual position - pointed at her feet. The ones adorned with sandals from Walmart no doubt. I led her to a back corner of the room and told her to show me the nail polish she got for me. It was an acceptable color of red, so we put our desks together, facing each other, and I watched as the nervous little thing did my nails for me.
That got a variety of reactions from our classmates - none of which I really gave a fuck about - and the teacher was in his own little world. I wondered if he might be related to Herman Gunderson.
"Be careful, this dress is from Saks, it cost over 450 dollars. So, tell me about your job, Gracie."
Knowing the cost of the dress turned her into a bundle of nerves, as if she wasn't already. My dress, along with belt and shoes and accessories, might have cost more than the rest of the clothing in the room combined -- thanks to a man who wouldn't buy his only son a video game for Christmas. Gracie managed to talk as she polished my nails, telling me the name, the location, her busiest days (Saturday, of course), and revealed more than I expected about her family. Her mother had died and she and her little six year old sister were the only girls in a household full of males: her father, an uncle in his 20's, and two brothers. One brother was a senior, the other was a freshman (not her age, but a year younger who'd skipped a grade) on scholarship to a nearby parochial school.
"How would your family feel if we were in a relationship?"
Freckles looked at me in amazement. "A ... relationship? You mean.. like.. uh... friends?"
"No silly" I responded, trailing a fingernail (the one that had been drying the longest) along her cheek, "I mean like if you're my girlfriend. We can even have sex if you want ... You know how cute and adorable you are and what a turn on that is for me." I had to restrain myself from laughing, especially when I saw the expression of longing on her face. "So, what would they think?"
"I .. I dunno.. we're uh, you know, Catholic, and that's uh.. I don't think my Dad..." Oh god, did she want to be in a relationship with me!
"Okay, so we'll keep it on the downlow, just pretend we're best friends, right?" She nodded, a bit overwhelmed by it all. "So we can hang out tomorrow?" She reminded me it was her busiest day at work. "Well I know that silly... I mean I can come to your job and hang out there with you." No, her papa won't like that, but that's what I was counting on . "Maybe I can get a job there. I need to start saving for a car." No, there weren't any openings, it was strictly family. I thought a girlfriend is like family, isn't it? Well, there would be plenty of openings when I got through with them.
"And I have the perfect idea for what we can wear to school Monday.. we'll sort of match, okay?" She wanted to know, and I said it would be a surprise, and I'd save my first kiss for her Monday morning when she showed up for
school in the outfit I was going to buy for her. I knew I had her then.
I pretty much dominated the conversation with Freckles, pretending to be her friend, to the exclusion of anyone else in the room. Poor girl, she really was overwhelmed by it all. The next few periods were without incident. I sat next to Bobby in our Literature class (where "Aunt Carole" never even looked our way .... is that any way for a teacher to interact with the class?) Then at lunch, when he thought we were doing the same routine, I took his tray of food and left him the yogurt he got for me.
I kept my mouth shut when most of the boys and several girls were either making rude comments or laughing at rude comments in Biology as Mrs Watkins was going over terms we would need to be familiar with, like sexual and asexual reproduction. After all, I was the mature one.
It was in Eric's class that I had the most fun, though. Just because I was a 14 year old girl with a crush on my teacher didn't mean I couldn't draw on my feminine wiles to draw him in a little deeper. While every other girl
in class was ready to make a fool of herself to show her infatuation with
him, I was the only one with the skill to make him see me as a young woman, not a silly teen.
"Miss Somerville, are you paying attention?"
I was fiddling with the strap on my little clutch.
"Yes, Mr Jacobson ... the bronze age. I was just thinking, how did they ever think to smelt metal in the first place? Did they just think 'lets heat up all this dirt and rocks and throw in some charcoal and see if anything useful comes out' and then 'let's try combining tin with copper and see if we can invent bronze'?"
See handsome, I was paying attention .. almost as much as all the boys are paying attention to little ol' me. What about you, Mr Jacobson, are you paying attention to me? Do you want me as badly as they do? Are you counting the days till I graduate and am no longer off limits to you?
My favorite teacher, satisfied I was paying attention, went on to talk about ancient Mesopotamia trying to make it as interesting as possible for a room full of morons who couldn't care less. He was trying to make it as quick and painless as possible so we could maybe get to someplace someone in the room besides him and me have ever heard of.
"Persia? Come on... anyone?" He knew I knew the answer, and knew I remained silent to give someone else in the room a chance to answer. When our eyes met at times like this, I could feel something pass between us, and I knew he felt it too. A 14 year old girl was connecting with him on an intellectual plane even as she tempted him with her body. Poor thing was going to have a difficult four years, I suspected.
"The movie 300?" Oh yeah, several people responded they'd seen it, and one struggling junior historian thought he had the answer: "Greece?"
"No, but you're really close. The Greeks were the ones fighting the Persians."
I raised my hand, if only for a few inches. "That's Iran, isn't it Mister Jacobson?" I asked with a hint of sarcasm only he would detect.
"Yes. Iran. Thank you Erica... and Iran is a country back in the news today, still a force to be reckoned with." and maybe some percentage of the class would put 2 and 2 together at test time. Fortunately, the test would be multiple choice and he'd leave out Iraq as one possible answer for that question, and he'd leave out Iran as a choice for the Mesopotamia question.
As he talked, and I continued to fiddle with the strap on my little clutch, I wondered if Mr Jacobson masturbated at night. If so, did he do it to pictures of pretty girls like the other Eric did. I wondered how I could get my picture to him without being inappropriate. It was long past time for me to make a Facebook page. I might even start posting things on Youtube. You know, innocent things that would provide a venue for me to show off my sexuality without making it look like I was showing off. Those little notes that can be posted after the video is loaded. "Oops, didn't realize how much cleavage I was showing off there, I'll wear something more modest next time." The comments would be disabled. I don't need a bunch of illiterate assholes telling me what they'd like to do to me. That and "shoutouts to my favorite teachers" should do it. I'd even include the ones I don't like, just so it doesn't look like I'm in love with Mr Jacobson. Yeah, that might be fun.
It wasn't by design that I overheard Eric talking with another teacher - I just happened to be in the right place at the right time. Apparently there was a woman in his life named Jenny (gag) and they were going up to some secluded scenic overlook on Saturday morning for a picnic and to discuss their future.
Donna, of course, was wonderful as she helped me plan it all out - an elaborate scheme to make Mr. Jacobson a part of our lives. I don't know what I'd do without her ... except be a total loser boy destined to never be happy.
The car I would be driving was an old Mustang, the sort of car someone like
my daddy would find in deteriorated condition and want to restore. Donna had no trouble finding someone to play the other role, though she didn't let me in on all the details. I just learned to trust her when she said she would take care of something, and she always did.
Fortunately, the road to the scenic overlook was rarely traveled, especially early Saturday mornings, and it was easy enough to stage the accident in just the right place ... the entrance to the parking area. Donna was there to supervise everything, but left just before Eric and Jenny arrived. After all, she couldn't be seen there with me, could she?
My gorgeous history teacher arrived with his "date" to see a large burly man banging on the roof of the Mustang that had just plowed into the side of his pickup. He was calling me a little bitch while I sat at the wheel crying in abject (though pretended) fear. Though he didn't know it was me in the car, Eric couldn't very well pass us by, since we were blocking the entrance. And, you know, there was a damsel in distress.
"You fucking cunt! Unlock that door before I break this window and drag your fucking ass outa there." Or words to that effect.
"Hey.. hey.. calm down.. no need for that.. is anyone hurt?"
My hero.
Eric talked the guy down a bit so he was no longer wanting to beat the teenage girl who ran into him, then offered to call the police. The big ugly man Donna got to play the role was shouting "we don't need no fucking cops, I just need that little cunt's drivers license and insurance." Eric promised to get him everything he needed very wisely suggested he sit in his truck and calm down a little and that would speed up the process. When the guy
finally complied, that's when he turned his attention to the girl in the car.
"Are you alright, Miss......" oh, the look was priceless. "Erica?" he asked, the last person he expected to see behind the wheel of a car.
My own performance should have won a nomination for an academy award. "Mr Jacobson!" I was out of the car in a flash, throwing my arms around his neck
and sobbing. "Oh thank god you're here... Please, help me ..." I had a list... I didn't want the mean man to hurt me (he assured me he wouldn't allow that to happen), I didn't want to be arrested (he told me that wouldn't happen either) and please don't tell Mom. To that last one, he said explained very patiently that my Mom would have to know, but.. he would support me in any way he could.
"So, your mother needs to be called. Who would you rather do it, me or the police?"
I nodded and whispered "you".
I gave him Donna's number, which he called from his own phone. (That was part of the plan, of course, so they would have each others numbers.) Then he asked why I, a 14 year old girl too young to drive, was out by myself driving a car in this part of the city. Jenny probably had a better look at what I was wearing than Eric did. Designer jeans that were too tight, a tight blouse that was way too shear - enough to see I wasn't wearing a bra, and heels that gave me the extra height I needed to my arms would fit more easily around Eric's neck. My makeup was too heavy and I was adorned with too much jewelry. More of an evening look than one fit for a Saturday morning picnic. Poor Jenny. I'm sure she wasn't enjoying the picnic as much as she'd hoped, all of Eric's time and efforts going to help out this oversexed teen girl she didn't even know. Eric, of course, was wonderful. Such calm assurance that all would be okay, as I nuzzled up against him. Realizing how inappropriate it was, he tried to gently create some space between us, but when he did, I'd start sobbing and pull him closer.
"You still didn't tell me what you're doing out here."
"I.. I.. was.. I.. I knew you'd be here." Hmmmm, let that sink in for a moment. "I ... love you, Mr Jacobson."
"Oh, Erica... " That's all he could say, as he frantically tried to figure out how to let me down gently without destroying my fragile infatuated teenage girl psyche.
"I know I'm only 14, but.... I feel so much older.. like we could... you know... if you could just wait for me to get older...." So sweet. He hugged me tighter and told me he was flattered.. the very sort of thing I expected him to say as he was trying to let me down easy.. That's when Jenny got out of the car, and I got my first good look at the competition. She was very pretty, in a very generic sort of way. Nothing outstanding about her - pretty, but completely average. Her unwanted arrival prompted Eric to remove his arm from around me, and for him to remove my arms from around him, as we sat back against that part of the front of the car that wasn't crumpled. Eric discretely motioned for Jenny not to approach, knowing how emotionally fragile I was now. He excused himself and went to her to talk her back into the car, then came back to me. She wasn't happy.
After a few minutes Donna arrived looking every bit the worried mom in frumpy clothing. What was I thinking, taking dad's car? I didn't even have a license to drive! And why was I dressed like that? Was I going to see a boy? She demanded to know who it was ... and only Eric and I knew the truth.. it was all for him.
There wasn't much time to answer, as the big bully got out of his pickup demanding answers, and he wasn't very nice about it. Eric warned him again about his language and it looked like a fight was about to start. Then Donna interceded.
"Let me guess. He asked not to call the cops, right?" She pointed out his own registration was expired and went on to speculate why someone who was so obviously the victim wouldn't want the cops to show up. As pissed as he was at me, surely he wanted me in as much trouble as I could get, but still, he didn't want the cops. "Could it be you don't have insurance, either? Or maybe there's an active warrant for you somewhere?" she smiled, as if knowing she was in control now. She pulled out her phone. "It wouldn't surprise me if you've been drinking this early in the morning, either. So, I'm calling 911 about my daughter, and you have the option of staying or going, it matters not to me."
The guy was cursing up a storm as he got in his truck and sped away.
"Now, young lady, it's time to deal with you .. and I promise I won't be as
nice to you as I was to him."
"Mrs Somerville" my hero interceded, stepping away from me so I couldn't overhear, but I could. "Please don't be too hard on her.. I swear to you that Erica is one of.. no, she is THE best student in any of my classes. She's just experiencing growing pains -- turning into a beautiful young woman before she's fully ready." He spared me the embarrassment of telling her who the "boy" was that I got all slutted up for. With tears in her eyes, Donna unburdened herself emotionally telling him how difficult it was to raise a stepdaughter when the dad's never home, etc. They talked a bit more, then Eric asked Donna to give him a call any time she wanted to talk about me or problems I'm having. They exchanged emails addresses, too.
The entire time, Jenny and I were glaring at one another. A 14 year old girl was coming between her and "her" man. I shouldn't have been a threat, but
she knew I was. I'd ruin her if I needed to - to get what I wanted. It's on, bitch!
We had to wait for a wrecker to tow the car, and while we waited Donna pretended to be too disappointed in me and my betrayal of her trust to offer me the comfort I needed so badly at a time like this. Thank goodness Eric was there to provide it to me. We even held hands for a bit as he talked to me about my future. Jenny was getting even more pissed. Why were they waiting with us when they should be having a nice little romantic picnic? Eric, being a typically nice guy I suppose, felt he shouldn't leave the women unprotected in a remote area (like Donna needed anyone's protection, HA!) and couldn't understand why Jenny was upset.
Finally, the wrecker arrived. On parting, I threw my arms around his neck and gave him a kiss on the cheek, then rode off with my Mom. When we got home, Donna and I made love, then I got ready to go spend the rest of the morning and into the afternoon with Freckles. There's no question she was missing me, as that morning she had found the time during her busy day to send me one email, leave two voice messages, and three text messages. All of them ended with "I love you". Isn't that sweet? I'd have to remember to give her the outfit I picked out for her to wear to school Monday.
I knew I'd be a disruptive influence at McCarthy Catering even if I didn't dress sexy, so I didn't. After all, the idea was to get everyone to accept me into Gracie's life, not to give them cause to suspect I was up to no good.
"Hi Mr McCarthy, it's so nice to meet you." I would pour on the charm to the dad, already knowing he was too nice to run me off. "Grace has been a godsend to me, helping me with my Algebra. She's really smart you know." He wasn't really sure why I was there, it's not like I was invited to watch them get everything ready for the civic club's awards dinner, but as long as I stayed out of the way he didn't say anything. The other boys (two brothers and a young uncle) certainly didn't mind my presence.
Freckles didn't exactly say "what the hell are you doing here?" - probably because she wouldn't do anything to give me cause to find another girlfriend .. but the look did suggest she didn't want me to be disruptive in a way that could affect her family's livelihood. 'Don't worry sweetie' I thought to myself, 'I wouldn't dream of doing that.. yet.'
Before long I discovered that simply sitting and watching others work could get boring in an environment like this. Gracie was busy with her father doing most of the cooking while the boys did things like chopping ingredients and packing things into a trailer. I tried to offer to help with the food. Mr. McCarthy explained that in order to do that I'd have to get a card from the health department. At least I offered. Her young uncle (Sean) was doing the baking.
It seemed I was a bit of a distraction to Uncle Sean and both Gracie's brothers, but I was playing totally innocent. After all, they were only being nice, right? Mr McCarthy was continually reminding them of what they were supposed to be doing. He might have even been amused by the effect a pretty young girl was having on them, but as long as the work was getting done he wouldn't object.
Finally, I saw the opportunity to help Patrick carry a few things to the trailer. Patrick was the older brother, a Senior at TJ High. I wasn't sure what I would say to him, or what he might say to me, and I was a little uncomfortable with getting into a situation where I didn't know what to expect .. but I was Erica, and Erica had to learn to overcome such fears, learn to think on her feet.
"Is everybody in the family as smart as Grace?"
Patrick chuckled. "No, only her and Peter. That's why he got the scholarship to St Paul's .... I play football." Oh? A jock? He didn't seem like the type, certainly not what I had experienced in a previous life as Eric, but .... "Do you like football?" he continued.
"I don't know much about it. Mom doesn't care about sports, and my dad is usually gone." I paused, waiting to see what he would say. He was concentrating hard on getting some boxes of napkins to fit into a too-small space. "Maybe.. you could teach me?" It was the flirtiest I'd been since my arrival at McCarthy Catering, and I think I could detect a little gasp. He promised to tell me all I needed to know, and hoped I would attend every game to watch him play. He told me what position he played, but it meant nothing to me.
"I'd love to come to every game and watch you play" I responded, brushing his arm. I could see he was totally focused on me now. He wanted to kiss me,
but was afraid of being too forward and frightening me away. Maybe I should have kissed him, but I didn't. Instead, I planted some seeds of brotherly discontentment. "I think I'll go see what Peter's doing now."
Freckle's younger brother looked way too much like her for me to be the least bit interested in him. And, I guess they don't have girls like me at St Paul's, because he was visibly nervous talking to me one on one. Before long, though, he was telling me all about the business, and how well they were doing financially (he was embellishing, I'm sure, they were by no means well-off) and it occurred to me eventually that little Peter (Shall I refer to him as Freckles-boy?) was trying to present himself as a potential mate. A good provider for me. I had to laugh.
"Oh, I was just thinking ... I wonder how Grace would react if I started dating one of her brothers. She has quite a crush on me, you know." There ... let that stew for a while. Peter very nervously asked if he was the brother I had in mind. "Oh, I don't know ... I mean, Patrick is a football player, you know. Did you see those muscles?"
I can be so cruel at times.
Before they left to go set up for some awards banquet, I gave Freckles a large package - her outfit for Monday. "I can't wait for our first kiss. You will wear this for me, won't you?" She nodded without even opening the package to see what it contained.
After that I got five more texts from her on Saturday alone. Each ended with "I love you."