I thought about what Dad used to say when he saw me sulking over some high school slight. “The world is full of world-champion complainers. The only problem is no one gives a prize for that skill.”
He said it all the time. Somehow, it had sunk in. It chimed in my brain whenever the going got tough. I needed to stiffen my spine and push through this day.
With just enough resolve to propel me to my next class, I got moving. My next class, an introduction to (groan) Jacobean drama, was located in Stormcloud Academy’s observatory of all places. By my estimation, it was a five-minute walk, but at least it would allow me to go outside on my first day on campus.
What a day it was! It felt like a good omen that all the clouds had dispersed, leaving only the virgin sky and bright late-winter sun. Maybe things would improve after all, despite the inauspicious start of that morning. Could I allow myself a little optimism?
As I started walking down the ancient slate walkway, through a phalanx of birches and maples on the cusp of reviving for the spring, I heard a group of achingly familiar voices. The first was Sol, and the second, of course, was the infamous Zephyr.
“How’s the leg, Zeph?”
“Shut up, asshole. I let her do it.”
“Oh. Really? Not what it looked like. Looked like she outsmarted you.”
There were snickers beyond the trees along the wall. The wall was the last bastion of security that held the Academy buildings from sliding down the mountain. Sol and Zephyr were hanging out there. I ducked quickly behind a fairly thick birch trunk and craned my head around to scope out the entourage.
Sure enough, there were the guys I was already unfortunately acquainted with. With them, too, was the other jackass from their breakfast clique. Arvo was his name, according to Buffy. He was the tallest of the bunch, with long muscular arms and a huge, strapping chest that made his trim stomach, waist, and legs seem almost comical. Arvo had his hair cut super-short, like a military brat.
There were some younger guys, too. Freshmen I’d seen in my classes. At least one of them had been hauling Zephyr’s books earlier. These were the gofers of the crew, apparently. There was also a girl with them. One of the Hollands, either Poppy or Erin.
“Fuck off!” Zephyr brayed. “She’s trash. I could smell that bitch coming. I let her do it, so she thinks she got the best of me. Now, it’s my turn.”
Slender plumes of cigarette smoke drifted upward into the frigid winds that swirled down from the mountains. The gang was having a nice little laugh at my expense. I had half a mind to pop out and give them a piece of my mind. Maybe I even had the courage to do it, but what happened next froze me in place.
Zephyr turned to the girl and shouted, “Erin, get your ass over here.”
That solved that mystery. Erin sidled up next to him like a well-trained dog. Zephyr jerked her around and pulled her barely covered butt to his crotch. The naughty schoolgirl let out a predictable squeal as her master leaned forward and slid his hand under her skirt. Sol and Arvo seemed amused but fairly chill. The younger guys were craning their necks hard to get a look at the action.
From behind my tree, I had the best view of anyone.
“Oh, baby,” Erin cried for everyone’s benefit, “your fingers feel so good inside me.”
He pulled his fingers out and shoved them in her mouth. “Suck,” he demanded.
She did as ordered. Encouraged and aroused, he turned her around and delivered his next order, “Now, suck me off with your tits and your mouth. Don’t let me get cold.”
Erin hesitated, looking at the other eager faces along the wall.
“Now!” Zephyr barked. He was unbuckling those tight jeans and unbuttoning the McQueen shirt from the bottom. Even from twenty yards away, I could make out his smooth washboard abs. They were super cut and marked with a strange tat above the navel: two crossed swords forming an X. As I watched with my breath held, Erin opened her already barely buttoned shirt. Then, she pulled up her bra and slid gently to her knees before him.
Zephyr tugged the elastic on his boxer briefs and snuggled his erection between Erin’s squished-together boobs. Once he was in position, he leaned his head against the wall and told her to get to work.
I’d admit that I didn’t have any experience with tit-fucking or fellatio or any of this. I mean, I wasn’t a total naïf; I’d seen pictures in an erotic photo book my friend Nicole’s parents kept in the bottom drawer next to their bed. We’d crowd around it at sleepovers and puzzle over the artistically staged positions, the toned bodies lit just so, and the hard, unfamiliar appendages.