There's Something About Sarah By Michele Nylons
Chapter Two – The Ice Queen
Author's Note: Chapter One was never published as it told of the coming of age of Sarah from an adopted eight year old boy who was raised as a girl. Because of the age requirements it was rejected. Chapter 2 picks up with Sarah about to turn seventeen and as sixteen is the age of consent in Texas where this story is set so there is no further issue.
Sloane did go to beautician school and also qualified as a hairdresser and took a reasonably well paying job in town in a beauty salon. Her natural beauty and style declined into what I described as a skank ho' countenance; short tight dresses openly displaying her breasts, the hems of her skirts and dresses were so short her panties often showed. She liked to wear platform soled wedges or fuck-me heels, her hair was permed and frizzed, and she wore way too much makeup. She walked around in an effluvium of Poison' perfume and Salem menthol lights cigarette smoke. At seventeen she had become a caricature of her mother.
We remained friends and confidants, even after the day she threatened me in the loft. But we grew more distant. She stayed out late; often overnight and she was catting around. My friends at school never said anything to me directly but their oblique references to Sloane's lifestyle were enough for me to know she was considered a slut.
I continued to study hard which was sometimes difficult when Sloane came home drunk, emotional and often quarrelsome and indignant.
"You think you're better `n me doncha!" she'd screech in a drunken rant.
"Well I gotta good job, all the boys like me and I got a life Sarah. What have you got? A fucking education and a cock taped between your legs!" she'd bawl.
I knew she didn't mean it, but it hurt. I'd hold her close and comfort her and listen to some story about how her latest boyfriend had mistreated her.
She would end up sobbing and apologetic.
"I'm sorry Sarah. I don't know why I'm such a bitch to you; I love you honey. You're like a sister to me," she'd sob when I put her to bed and lay beside her, consoling her.
She tugged at my heartstrings when she said that; I still idolised Sloane and was sad to see her hurting herself this way.
I turned seventeen just before graduating in the top ten percentile of my senior year. My Aunt Amanda couldn't hide her pride in me and even Sloane told me how proud she was.
"Fuck me Momma, a Grayson girl is going off to college! We better celebrate!" Sloane raised her glass to me.
She and Amanda were sitting on the couch sipping gin and smoking. I'd taken a beer from the fridge which I did rarely, but this was a celebration.
"So who's taking you to the Prom baby?" Amanda grinned drunkenly.
"Jeez Momma! Don't you know all the boys call her the Ice Princess? She ain't so much as kissed any of those randy pecker-woods, but there's plenty `d like to taste them pretty pink lips and slide their dirty hands under her skirt," Sloane teased.
"Shame is they'd end up with a handful of cock," she horselaughed.
I blushed and put my face in my hands and Amanda slapped Sloane viciously.
"You don't talk to your cousin like that! She's special yes but she's done nothing to you but love and adore you Sloane so you apologise now!"
"I'm sorry Sarah; you know I was foolin'," Sloane smiled at me, her mother's handprint visible through her caked on makeup.
"Yeah. I knew you were joshing me Sloane," I replied.
I'd found it easier to talk like Southern white trash in the house as I knew my perfect diction and refined accentless speech was annoying to both of them. But once again Sloane had driven a barb into my heart when there was no need.
I was going though my own private hell but was scared to talk to them about it.
A few of the nicer boys had approached me and asked if I'd be their Prom date but I was so worried that they would find out my secret so I always said no. My girlfriends all had dates and they were beginning to nag me to make up my mind and pick a boy to escort me to the Prom.
Lizzie Sanders, my best friend, if I had one, I never confided much to anyone, was becoming particularly insistent.
"Sarah Grayson you've got some of the most handsome, intelligent boys in this school yearning for you and you haven't settled for one of them! You know that you are one of the prettiest Seniors but you insist on being the Ice Queen."
I was both flattered and annoyed by her comments.
"Lizzie I'm too busy trying to decide on which college to go to and what degree to take that to worry about boys!" I quipped.
"Oh pish Sarah! There isn't a seventeen year old girl in the country that doesn't think about boys now and then!" she replied.
And that was the reason for my private hell. I was thinking more and more about boys.
My wet dreams were becoming more frequent. I'd dream that some handsome boy would take me in his arms and kiss me and hold me close; we'd lie down together and he would fondle me and I could feel the heat from his body. He would stroke my small breasts through my blouse and his hand would slide down to my thigh where his fingers would stroke and caress me. Usually the dream ended when his fingers slid up nylon-encased loins and I would ejaculate and awaken.
The boys who approached me tentatively asking for a date were handsome and educated and I felt regretful when I turned them down.
It was soon after the conversation that I had with Aunt Amanda and Sloane about attending the Prom that I finally got the gumption to ask Sloane the question that I had been dying to ask.
She was lying on her bed smoking, listening to her Walkman so she wouldn't disturb me while I completed college applications.
"Sloane?" I said to her.
She was staring off into nowhere; probably a little high, and didn't respond.
"Sloane!" I yelled.
She took off her headset, a tinny rendition of Aerosmith's `Dude looks like a lady' blasted out the sponge covered miniature speakers.
She clicked the stop button and the tape stopped.
"What?" she was a little angry at being disturbed.
"What did Amanda mean when she said `When you're older I'll tell you how your kind do what they do'? " I asked.
"You really wanna know sugar?" she looked at me searchingly.
"Sure," I replied.
She popped the ring-pull tab on a beer she had sitting on her beside table and lit a cigarette. She offered the packet to me and I shook my head.
"Take one! You're gonna need it. Here take my beer too," I took the proffered beer and cigarette and lit up.
Sloane reached down into the cooler and grabbed another beer for herself.
I hated myself for smoking but living in this house it was a bad habit I had picked up. I didn't smoke at all at school, only rarely in the house or in the loft of the old barn when I went there with Sloane, which was less frequent now that she was working.
"Ok Sarah, you sure you wanna go through with this? It's really a conversation you should have with Momma," she looked seriously at me.
"I want to know Sloane! Now!" I beseeched her.
"Ok. So you know you are special; you been raised as a girl for most of your life. You look like a girl, you act like a girl, and you smell like girl; hell you even think like a girl. But you ain't a proper one and you know it."
"Youse probly ninety percent girl but there's bits of you that ain't. I'll be blunt. You ain't got much in the way of titties but that don't matter much; you wear a padded bra and it looks like you got a little, and for most boys that's enough."
"But you ain't got a pussy. You seen mine enough to know what one looks like and you know what us girls use it for besides pissin'."
"Yeah I get that Sloane, but what is it that Momma was implying my kind do?" I asked.
"Well your kind is what's called transvestite or transgender is the new fangled name for it. I've been with boys who have been to the city and seen them. They say some's just a boy in a wig dressed like a girl and some look just like a real girl; they got everything, even titties, but they ain't got a pussy, although there's some apparently that have, they had the operation."
"I understand I think; go on please," I said.
"Well these special girls still wanna please their boys, and to be honest, the transvestites that most of my friends have met ain't givin' it away if you know what I mean."
"Prostitutes," I replied.
"Whores, yes," Sloane pulled on her cigarette.
"Not that I'm saying youse one of course."
I just nodded wanting for her to get on with it.
"Well regardless of what sort of girl you are, boys gotta real hankerin' for having their pecker sucked."
I blanched. I had heard of fellatio but it was preached to be a sin.
"Oh don't go all shy and virginal Sarah; most girls won't admit to it but there's a lot do it to keep their boyfriends happy and from strayin'. Specially those that's hell bent on keeping their virginity."
I nodded. I was intelligent enough to understand the paradigm and had heard plenty of rumours.
"Course you can always give a boy a handjob but most won't settle for that."
I blushed a deeper red.
"So. And now wees getting to it; some girls, not many but some, will let their boyfriends...Christ! There ain't no way to say it but plain...they let their boyfriend fuck their butt."
I gasped. I was mortified.
"Yep there's some will allow their boyfriends to put it in their anus so they can keep their virginity for marriage. And I'll be honest; there's some boys like to do that regardless, even if they can get pussy."
Sloane blushed a deep guilty red.
I had averted my eyes but I looked up at Sloane and she read the question on my face.
"Don't you tell a soul but yes I've done it, and I ain't no virgin as you well know" she took a long pull on her beer.
"It hurts like a sumbitch the first time, but if a boy takes his time it ain't so bad," she shrugged.
"But to get back to the subject. Special girls like you can give out handjobs and blowjobs; you think about it, ain't no one gonna know you ain't got a pussy if you do that."
"But I'm figurin' if you let a boy fuck you that other way; he'll find out for sure you ain't a real girl."
My hands were shaking and I snatched another cigarette and lit it. I sat in stunned silence taking it all in. Some of what Sloane had told me I already knew; but some was a revelation.
Sloane came over and sat next to me on my bed and put her arm around me.
"Listen honey. You're one of the prettiest girls in school and you got brains. You don't have to do any of what we been talking about but you got options."
"You don't wanna turn out to be a slut like me..."
I lifted my head to protest but Sloane put a finger to my lips.
"I know what I am and it's my choice; don't you go feelin' sorry for me or I'll get angry."
"But you can still date a boy if that's what you want. Plenty of girls at the school ain't even stuck their tongue in their boyfriend's mouth, let alone let him feel them up. But boys is boys and if they can't get what they want from their girlfriend they're liable to roam and get what they're hankerin for elsewhere."
"What I'm sayin' is, you got alternatives to fuckin'," she looked me the eye, as serious as she'd ever been.
"Can you tell me what it's like? Giving handjobs and blowjobs?" I asked tentatively.
"And kissing? What's this thing with the tongue?" I smiled at her.
Sloane punched me in the shoulder and laughed. A good belly laugh like she used when we were kids.
"Why Sarah Grayson...I never!" she giggled.
She reached under the bed and pulled out her bong and stoked the bowl from the stash she kept in her top drawer.
"If I'm going to give away all my confidences I'm going to need a little bit more than a can of cold Lone Star," she laughed and fired up the bong and took a deep draught.
She offered it to me but I shook my head.
"I'll take another beer though," I said.
Sloane reached into the cooler and then proceeded to provide me with an education that I would never get in school.
Two things happened shortly after that night that changed things forever.
Having listened to the advice that Sloane had given me I set my resolve to attend the Prom with a suitable date and having found said date Aunt Amanda began to fuss over me like she had never before.
It was two days later that I was sitting cross-legged on the lawn under the shade of an old oak eating my packed lunch. I was flicking idly through a fashion magazine relieved that my final grades were in and my college applications were in the post. I had not a care in the world other than what I was going to wear to the Prom and who might approach me to ask to be my escort. As I had turned down most of what I considered eligible candidates I was worried I might not even get asked again.
It was mid June and two weeks before Prom night. Because of the warm weather I was wearing a white A-line skirt and light-blue capped-sleeved blouse. My legs were clad in control-top pantyhose, not because I needed them to pull in my waist but because they gaffed me without needing tape. I was engrossed in my magazine and not aware that the hem of my skirt had ridden up to show off the darker bands on the hosiery at the top of my thighs and my long coltish legs. My feet were shod in black, low-heeled Mary-Janes, my long blonde hair was worn loose with bangs and as always my makeup was perfect and perhaps a little heavy for summer but that was how I liked to wear it.
Unbeknownst to me, Drew Carter a lettered running back on the football team who was hoping for a football scholarship, was looking purposely in my direction. He stood with two of his team mates about thirty yards away under the shade of a slowly dying Dutch Elm eyeing me off.
"She won't have anything to do with you Drew. She's a bookworm and you're a jock," Bing Holthouse Jr, the quarterback for the Rattlesnakes, our football team, chided.
"Fuck you Bing! She still doesn't have a date; she's declined all the academics so maybe I have a chance," he retorted.
"Declined". That's a big word for an athlete. You been book learnin' again ain't you!" Bing punched his best friend playfully in the shoulder.
Bing had already been picked up by the Arlington Mavericks at Texas U and his future was assured with a football scholarship guaranteed. Drew Carter was a pretty good running back and had been scouted but not yet signed up. But he had also made reasonable grades, not only because he was not assured of a football scholarship, but because he was actually quite intelligent and could have made it into the top ten percentile of graduates himself but for his commitment to football at the expense of scholastic studies.
"Double fuck you Bing!" Drew chided his team mate and sauntered over to where I sat in the shade.
Engrossed in my magazine I had no idea how long Drew Carter had been standing in front of me until I became aware of his presence and I jumped with alarm.
I slammed my magazine shut and gazed up at the countenance standing before me, raising a hand to shield my eyes from the bright sunlight.
"I'm sorry ma'am I didn't mean to scare you," the tall athletic apparition before me drawled.
"What do you want?" I said curtly.
I saw his shoulders droop and sensed his confidence dissipate. Being curt was my natural defence and I chided myself for it.
"I'm sorry ma'am. I'll leave you to your reading and to your lunch," he said in conciliatory tone.
He turned to leave and I summoned my resolve.
"Wait! I was rude and I'm sorry," I replied.
He turned back to me and smiled.
As he did a cloud obscured the sun and I could see him clearly. He was handsome in a lean cowboy sort of way. Tall and tanned, slim-hipped, long-legged, with a crooked smile and long sun-bleached sandy hair that he habitually flicked out of his deep blue eyes.
My heart skipped a beat.
"May I?" he indicated a spot beside me on the lawn and when I nodded he effortlessly eased himself down beside me at a respectful distance.
"What are you reading?" not `whatcha readin'; I was impressed this jock actually spoke English.
I blushed when I held up the fashion magazine and his face lit up with that cheeky smile.
"I was expecting something a little more, shall we say, intellectual, from a girl with you're reputation" he grinned.
He saw the cloud cross my face and he reached out and gently touched my hand.
"I didn't mean anything bad by it Ms Grayson; just that you are known to be the studious sort that has no interest in frivolity of any kind," he explained.
"The Ice Queen?" I replied.
"You said it ma'am; not me," he grinned.
I laughed and he laughed along with me. He scooted closer to me so we were nearly hip to hip.
"I'm Andrew Carter but everyone calls me Drew," he held out his hand.
I took it and he squeezed just a bit; the feel of his long cool fingers sent shivers up my spine.
"And I'm Sarah; not Ms or ma'am; just plain Sarah Grayson," I smiled back at him shyly.
"Sarah, as us country folk are like to say, you is anything but plain," he said and beamed that smile at me again.
My heart melted at the compliment and I blushed bright red.
We chatted for what seemed like an eternity but it was closer to a half hour. We discussed what subjects we had studied, what books we both liked and what colleges we hoped to get into. He looked at me with his deep blue eyes but I notice they flicked down to my tiny breasts and more often to my legs. Unconsciously I fiddled with the hem of my skirt, pulling it down and smoothing it out. I saw the look of disappointment in his eyes and I was secretly glad. A boy who seemed to like me for my brain and my body; an intellectual jock, we were both different to the rest of seniors but for totally different reasons.
"May I come around to your house and call on you sometime?" he asked as he was about to leave.
He sensed my uneasiness; I had never had anyone around to the house. With Aunt Amanda's gentlemen friends likely to arrive at any time and Sloane's recently found penchant for the life of a slattern; the Grayson house was not conducive to visitors of the genteel kind.
I scrambled around in my pocketbook and found a pen and wrote down our home number on the page of my magazine and tore it off and proffered it to him.
"Call me. We can meet, on shall we say neutral ground," I smiled up at him.
Drew was astute enough to understand my dilemma and he gave me that heart-melting smile. He took the scrap of paper and his fingers touched mine. They lingered as neither of us wanted that fragile touch to end. He looked searchingly into my eyes and his fingers intertwined with mine. He pulled me forward and leant into me and kissed me. It wasn't anything passionate but it wasn't chaste either. He kissed me on the side of my mouth; our lips barely touching. He made to move away and I pulled him back to me and put my arms around him and kissed him.
I kissed him properly, our lips crushed and I let the tip of my tongue slide into his mouth. When he tried to press harder I gently eased him away and as I did I head a loud whoop.
Bing Holthouse Jr and Bobby Fillay where still under that old Elm and were whooping and yahooing when they saw us kiss.
I blushed a deep red and Drew gave me his high-beam smile.
"Sorry ma'am, but you know what them jocks is like," he grinned at me.
"You talk like a cowpoke again Andrew Carter and you may not get another kiss," I smiled back at him.
"Well we can't have that now, can we?" he said getting to his knees.
He kissed the tips of his index and middle fingers and waved me a kiss,
I blushed again as I watched his lithe athlete's body spring to his feet and stroll away. My heart was beating like a racehorse on the home stretch. I could feel my penis had become erect inside my control-top pantyhose and even felt a little wetness there. I liked how that felt but I also so wanted to be a real girl.
I sighed and went back to my magazine; but I couldn't concentrate. I kept thinking of Drew Carter and my first real kiss.
The call came the very next day and I was both excited and trepidicious when I heard Drew's voice in the receiver of the telephone.
"So can I see you Sarah, please?" I was thrilled to hear genuine longing in his voice.
The intellectuals who I had repeatedly turned down sounded childlike and whiney compared to Drew's deep masculine drawl.
"Yes but not here. There's an old barn, well its more just a shed really, about half a mile down the track that runs from my back yard," I said.
"I'll pick you up out back of your place," I could sense the exhilaration in his voice.
"No!" I shouted into the mouthpiece.
I took a breath and composed myself.
"That won't be necessary Drew; I'll meet you there."
I didn't want Sloane or Amanda to know I was meeting a boy. Especially not a football player. God! What would they think!
I checked myself out in the mirror and fixed my makeup. I should have been wearing jeans to traverse that overgrown paddock and mooch around that rickety barn but dammed if I wasn't going to show off one of my best assets; my long legs.
I slipped out of the housedress I was wearing and into a pair of cut-off denim shorts, I kept on my control-top pantyhose for two reasons; they really helped gaff me and the sheen enhanced the look of my shapely legs. I put on my best white padded bra to match my white satin panties, underwear was the only items of clothing I had that was new. Everything else was a Sloane or Amanda hand-me-down. I put on a blue denim blouse and sprayed myself with some of Sloane's perfume and brushed my hair.
I hardly remember the walk through the overgrown paddock to the old barn, I was so excited. Just as I got there a blue pickup arrived in a cloud of dust; I heard the ratchet of the parking brake and then Drew threw open the door and strode towards me, slamming the door in his haste.
He pulled me to him and I inhaled the scents of prairie-dust, Old Spice, a hint of sweat and tobacco. He smelled masculine and when he wrapped me in his arms I felt his powerful muscles. He kissed me hard.
This was no peck on the side os the mouth or tentative slip of the tongue over the lips; this was a deep, open-mouthed, tongue in mouth, exploring kiss.
I melted in his arms and responded, putting my arms around him and pressing my body against his.
After what seemed like an eternity he broke the kiss and eased me away from him a little and held me by my arms. I was tall for girl but he was taller by three or four inches and he looked down into eyes.
"Damn you are prettier than I remembered and it was only yesterday we met. You smell nice too," he said and my emotions stirred again.
"I wanted to ask you something Sarah. I didn't come around here to fool around, I know you're not that kind of girl."
It was my turn to be witty.
"How do you know I'm not that kind of girl? You've only known me for one day," I smirked.
"How naive you are Sarah. I've been watching you from afar for over a year. I've wanted to talk to you but when I saw you dismiss every boy that approached you, including the smartest in the school, I figured a jock like me didn't stand a chance."
"An intellectual jock if I recall, who scraped a couple of A's together and still managed to keep his place in the starting lineup," I smiled.
"So what did you want to ask?" my heart was pounding again.
"Will you be my Prom date? Look I know this is kinda short notice and..."
I never let him finish; I threw myself into his arms and kissed him as hard as I could. When we finally broke for breath he beamed.
"So I guess that's a yes?"
"Yes. Now I have a question for you," I went on.
"What did you mean by you didn't come here to fool around? You're not going to waste my time and effort to look pretty for you are you?"
This time his grin lit up his whole face.
I took him by the hand and led him into the old barn and over to the ladder to the hayloft.
I started up the ladder and turned my head over my shoulder and found Drew's eyes glued to my ass.
"The ladder's a bit rickety so be careful Drew," I said.
"Yes ma'am," he replied.
"And it would help if you watched where you put your hands and feet rather than staring at my caboose you big galoot," I grinned.
"Well if I fall and die ma'am, I'll die happy knowing the last thing I saw was your damn fine derriere," he smirked.
"Why Drew Carter!" I chided climbing onto the loft.
And then I squealed with delight as Drew came up behind me and dragged me down into the hay.
"Is that how you capture all your girls Drew Carter; by tackling them like a linebacker?" I grinned up at him as he lay on top of me.
"Nope! Just mouthy academic Ice Princesses."
I was about to retort but he pressed his lips to mine and I wrapped my arms around him and responded. We kissed forever or what seemed like it in that hot, dust-smote, hayloft. Before long I felt his manhood press against me through his jeans. He wasn't crudely rubbing it against me or anything; but I could feel it pressing against me.
After a while his hands began to explore my body, he stroked my legs starting at my knees and then letting his fingers glide up them to my thighs. He stopped at my shorts and then moved on to my waist, sliding his hands up my flanks and under my arms than across my body. His hand stopped at my breasts.
He broke the kiss and looked me in the eyes.
"I don't want this to go wrong. You tell me if I'm going to far," he whispered hoarsely.
I looked up at him, my head resting in the hay, my hair fanned out. I remained silent.
Drew's fingers fumbled with the buttons on blouse and I put my hand over his and he stopped and I saw the disappointment in his face.
"It's not that I don't want you to. It's just that...well my titties ain't exactly a mouthful," I resorted to trash talk to hide my embarrassment.
He grinned at me; his face lighting up and those deep blue eyes shining.
"This ain't my first rodeo ma'am, I could sorta tell when I was fumbling around earlier that the decks were stacked; if'n you don't mind me mixing my metaphors. Now you let me decide what's a mouthful and what ain't."
Drew flicked open the top three buttons of my blouse and his fingers slid inside and caressed my skin. I gasped and he lowered his mouth to mine and gently kissed me while his fingers continued to explore. They slid under a cup and caressed the small mound of my breast and I gasped again, and when he flicked my erect nipple with his fingertip I melted.
I crushed my lips against his and writhed in his embrace as his hand cupped my small breast and squeezed and caressed it. His hand moved over to my left breast and he performed the same trickery as I squirmed underneath him. I could feel myself fully aroused and was glad I was fully gaffed today, my member taped back between my legs; my pantyhose providing extra support.
It was then that I found myself feeling guilty. I was letting this boy kiss and caress me thinking I was a girl. And I was a girl; except for that one thing. But pleasure and lust overcame guilt and regret and I let Drew carry on stroking and caressing me.
His fingers slid around my back and expertly release the clasp of my bra and he pulled it free. He looked down at my pathetically small breasts but I didn't see disappointment in his eyes. I saw desire.
He lowered his mouth to my mounds and licked and caressed them, his hot wet tongue driving me wild with pleasure. He sucked on my nipples, playfully nipping at them now and then and I felt ecstatic. Just when I thought I would explode with delectation he stopped and looked at me again.
"Sarah, they're exactly a mouthful and they are magnificent," he grinned and lowered his face to my bosom again.
I gently held his head as he suckled my breasts and I think it was at that moment that I fell in love with Andrew Carter.
We continued to kiss and Drew continued to explore my breasts; we were both becoming highly aroused. I so wanted to go a little further but was terrified if I went too far my secret would be exposed. But I couldn't help myself.
I reached down and squeezed his hard penis through his jeans. It felt so hard and big as I gripped it through the denim. This time Drew gasped and quickly broke the kiss and looked at me intently.
"Sarah; I don't want you doing anything you're going to regret. I didn't come here for that," he said earnestly.
"I know Drew, and I guess that you think that you're the first boy I have been with this way; and well, you are. But I know my boundaries and I don't want to be a cock tease but you might as well know we aren't going much further."
"I'm enjoying my first intimate moments with a boy but there isn't going to be any consummation. I like this, I really do. It's special. But I'm not a whore like..." I stopped myself there, having said too much.
"Like Sloane?" Drew finished my sentence and I nodded.
"I know Bing and Sloane had a thing going for a little while, but that's not what this is," he said.
"I know. See this is what happens when two intelligent people make out; they over-analyse everything instead of just enjoying the spontaneity," I smiled up at him.
"Now are you going to let this pretty girl lying underneath you with her titties exposed go to waste or are you going to get back to making her happy."
"Well yes I am; and cognisant of there being no consummation may inquire if it might be possible to for me take off those shorts," he grinned.
"Well it just might be possible but lets set some boundaries shall we. You see those dark bands at the top of my pantyhose; well that's the state-line. And there's no crossing the state line," I smirked.
"Fucking Ice Princess!" he chuckled and fell on me and I wrapped my arms and legs around him and pulled him close as we kissed, writhed and rubbed against each other.
I helped Drew struggle out of his shirt and the feel of his skin against mine was glorious. We were both hot and sweating and his chest rubbed against my small breasts as we writhed in the hay. His hands found my shorts and I lifted my buttocks to allow him to ease them from me.
I felt vulnerable, lying underneath this strong athlete dressed only in my underwear but I also felt excited, exhilarating and free. I also felt so feminine and sexy.
He was kissing me excitedly, his hands on my breasts and his groin pressed into mine. The denim of jeans rasped against the silkiness of my satin panties. I could feel the heat of his erection pushing against me.
He reached a hand down between us and I knew that he intended; to free his erection and rub it against my panty-crotch and that was as far as I was willing to let him go.
But that never happened.
"I see London, I see France I see Sarah's underpants. I see London, I see France I see Sarah's underpants. I see London, I see France I see Sarah's underpants!"
We both gasped with surprise and Drew rolled off me and I curled up trying to conceal my body, feeling vulnerable clad only in my underwear and heels.
"Well ain't this a sight to behold!"
It was Sloane who had chanted that teasing playground rhyme.
She was sitting cross-legged at the top of ladder smoking a cigarette, drunk and with mischief written on her face.
I scrambled to pull on my shorts and blouse.
"Don't be embarrassed on my account cousin; ain't like Drew here hasn't had me in the same state of undress," she slurped on a Lone Star beer, she had the remains of six pack on the boards beside her.
"Ain't that right Drew?" she jeered.
I continued dressing while and Drew buttoned his shirt.
"Well here cuz; take a beer and a smoke and I'll tell you all about our boy Drew," Sloane kicked the five remaining cans of beer over in our direction and tossed her cigarettes and lighter.
I looked up at Drew and saw the guilt on his face. I cracked open a can of beer and took a deep draught and lit a cigarette and stared at him intently. I was confused and angry.
"See Drew; Sarah ain't much different to me. She drinks and she smokes now and then; course she's different in other special ways but that ain't for me say."
Sloane was sitting, legs akimbo on the edge of the loft and it was all I could do to stop myself pushing her off. I glared at her and she registered the intense anger in my face.
"It isn't what you think Sarah," Drew implored.
"Sloane and I had a brief; very brief encounter right here. It started off just fooling around but she wanted more I wouldn't do it. She was drunk and emotional and I am not the sort of guy who takes advantage," he explained.
"Yeah but not Bing. He didn't care if I was drunk, high or sober so long as I opened my legs for him. Sometimes he didn't even care if I didn't want him to; he figured what I'd given him once he could take when he wanted," Sloane was crying now, her mascara running down her cheeks.
"I guess that's the difference between quarterbacks and running backs; the quarterbacks are used to gettin' what they want when they want, and running backs get what the quarterback tosses to them," Sloane sneered.
"We all three was up here drinking and Sloane came on to me," Drew went on.
"We fooled around but I wouldn't go any further than that. God's honest truth. I'm not the guy who takes advantage of a drunken woman."
"I wanted to leave and I asked Sloane to come with me and offered to drive her home but by then she was coming onto Bing Holthouse and they told me in no uncertain terms to leave," Drew finished explaining.
"You fucking wimp! Bing gave me the fucking of my life that night and you coulda had seconds or joined right in Drew Carter. But no! You left!" Sloane sniggered.
"Course Bing wanted to jump me whenever it suited him after that; didn't matter what I cared. Christ when I was having my ladies monthlies he'd just roll me over and use the other; wasn't nothing to him."
Now I was weeping; feeling so sorry for Sloane. I remembered coming home and finding her and Bing making love on her bed but I had no idea what she had been through.
"So there you go cuz. You got my leftover clothes, my leftover shoes, my leftover toys, even whatever my Momma has got leftover from her love for me I suppose; and now you got my leftover boyfriend. You just livin' on my leftovers," Sloane bellowed.
"I love you Sloane; and if all I have is your hand-me-downs and leftovers, so be it," I replied indignantly.
I turned to look at Drew who had his head in hands and was too ashamed to look at me.
"But Andrew Carter isn't a leftover or hand-me-down. He's my boyfriend in his own right. He approached me and I accepted him on his own and my own terms; before I knew any of what you told me."
Drew looked up surprised.
"I'm your boyfriend?" he gulped.
"You fucking bet you are Andrew Carter! I am not going to the high school Prom with some pick up date," I reached out and put my arm around him leaned into him.
He pulled my face to his and kissed me.
"Well I'll be a horses ass! Andrew Carter is taking my fucked up Ice Princess cousin to the Prom! Well don't pack no rubbers Drew; you won't be needing them with this bitch!" Sloane hissed.
Before either of us could retort Sloane slid down the ladder and was running out the barn.
"Fuck you both!" she yelled as she ran off into the night.
"Come on little lady; that's enough drama and excitement for one day," Drew said and helped me down the ladder to the floor of the barn.
He picked straw out of my hair in between kisses and then he drove me home. It was twilight by the time we got there and full dark by the time I eventually got out his pickup after a protracted good night kiss that never seemed to end.
"Sloane? Sloane?" Is that you out there?" Amanda yelled from the porch.
I wish I had camera to take a picture of my Aunt's face when she saw me get out of the pickup and walk to the porch; clothes mussed up, hair akimbo with the odd stalk of straw still in it, makeup messed up and my pantyhose snagged.
"My, my, my! Sarah Grayson what the dickens have you been up to?" she looked stupefied.
"Well I've been securing myself a date for the Prom," I grinned mischievously.
"Was that Drew Carter, starting running back for the Rattlesnakes, that I just saw molesting my darling niece in the cab of that pickup before he drove off?" Amanda grinned.
"You betcha!" I giggled.
"You get your ass in the house and on my couch and you're taking a drink and telling me all about this eventuality young lady, or you ain't ever going to bed!" she slapped me playfully on the buttocks and we hugged each other and laughed as we went inside.
Amanda and I sat up until midnight chatting, drinking, smoking and laughing.
"I'm getting you the best Prom dress I can afford," Amanda said when she kissed me goodnight.
I awoke with a start and looked at the alarm clock. It was 3.30 am. There was a red glow low on the western horizon. The old barn was ablaze. Sloane's bed was empty.
To be continued...
My darling readers, Nifty needs your support so you can keep reading my wonderful stories: Donate: http://donate.nifty.org/donate.html
Michele Nylons ???????? michelenylons@msn.com