The Wicked Collection

by Vivian Wood

  “C’mon, that’s not what I heard,” Evan said. He pulled either end of the towel that hung around his neck, and flexed so Ryan could see just how much bigger the senior was.

  “Don’t know what you heard,” Ryan said as he pulled on his jeans. No matter how often he changed in the locker room, there was always a feeling of vulnerability.

  “I heard you were fucking her six ways from Sunday,” Evan said. Ryan’s ears went red. “Not that I blame you, dude! That’s a hot piece of ass right there. Doesn’t say much, sure. But the quiet ones are always the freaks in bed. Ain’t I right?”

  Fucking her? Even as he went into his junior year, Ryan was still getting used to the enormous social pressure to engage in locker room talk—but he just couldn’t. He had to stick to the truth, especially when it came to Poppy.

  “It’s not like that,” Ryan said as he buckled his fly.

  “Oh yeah? I guess not. Not with you at least. Me? If I was up near that good-good like you, she wouldn’t be walking straight for a week.”

  Ryan had clenched his fist to still the full-body shaking. The last thing he needed was a fight with Evan, but he couldn’t let him talk about Poppy like that.

  “Good luck with that.” It was all he could manage. Luckily, Evan just laughed and walked away.

  Most of high school was like that, and Ryan never understood. Evan wasn’t the first on the team to ask him about Poppy. For Ryan, it was a badge of honor just to have a female friend. And yeah, as it turned out, Evan was right. A really hot female friend.

  He pinched his nose and logged into his tablet to fill out the forms. He really couldn’t afford to think about Poppy, not like that.

  As he started to fill in the information, his phone buzzed.

  Hey, stranger. Drinks later? Sarah. She’d been slipping from his mind more and more. He watched the ellipses roll across his phone. Live game show at Three Sheets tonight. Prob stupid fun.

  A game show. That was exactly what he needed. He used to race back to his place with Poppy after school to suck down Otter Pops and binge on Supermarket Sweep. Sure, see you there, he replied.

  He didn’t feel much for Sarah, but didn’t feel badly about it, either. It felt like the casual thing between them was mutual. Besides, that could change. Couldn’t it? She was a nice girl, a pretty girl. Maybe something would grow between them. Everyone always talked about taking it slow, but nobody did. What was wrong with avoiding a crash and burn?

  Sarah was growing on him, too. Slowly. He’d found out she wasn’t so much annoying as blessed with a strange sense of humor. Plus, few things really bothered her. She was the ultimate low-key, go with the flow type of girl.

  Ryan undressed, dropped his clothes to the floor in the bathroom, and turned on the shower water as hot as it would go. As the water fell over him, he couldn’t stop thinking about Poppy. His cock hardened, and he willed himself to think about Sarah instead. But he couldn’t even remember her face.

  Screw it. He gripped his cock at the base and squeezed gently. Images of Poppy flashed in his mind. He pictured her in that skimpy white bikini by the pool—but this time, it was just the two of them.

  “Do me now,” she said, and flipped onto her stomach. Ryan’s hand worked up his shaft to the tip as he remembered how her skin had felt against his. Soft, warm and buttery smooth.

  But this time, he didn’t have to be careful. He rubbed his hands over her shoulders, down her shoulder blades and untied the back of her bikini with a single pull. His hands brushed against the fullness of the sides of her breasts, and the curves of her body demanded he move quickly to her small waist. He grabbed the bar of soap to slicken his hand, and began to stroke himself faster.

  Her bikini bottoms were tied neatly with a bow on either side, a present to unwrap. He tore into her like a kid at Christmas, untying both sides simultaneously. When he whipped the bottoms off of her, pulled them with one hand from beneath her, she looked over her shoulder and smiled. But still, she didn’t turn over. And he couldn’t make out the details of her face. Besides that smile, she could be anyone.

  Ryan clutched her ass cheeks and spread them apart with his thumb. Slightly, she lifted her hips and gave him a better view. From her perfect, pink rosebud to her swollen lips, juicy entry and engorged clit, the entirety of her was incredible. “Do me now,” she said again.

  He moved into the rhythm he knew would make him come soon. Even in his fantasy, he didn’t want anything to happen too fast. He wanted to take his time and explore every part of her.

  With one hand, he slid his fingers between her legs and toyed with her lips. Already, they were slick with her wetness. He moved a finger between her folds and flicked lightly at her clit. She shuddered and raised her hips higher, her body begging for him.

  As he continued to play with her clit, she started to move against his hand. His balls began to tighten as he imagined slipping one finger into her while his thumb circled the rim of her ass. Even just imagining her tightness and wetness was enough to make him come.

  He steadied himself against the wall in the shower and thought about the roundness of her ass cheeks as she rode his hand and came hard, drenching him all the way to the wrist.

  Ryan groaned and closed his eyes. He had an hour before he was meeting Sarah, but was still watching the last of his come spiral down the drain.

  17

  Ryan

  Fourteen years ago

  Ryan took a deep breath and knocked on Poppy’s door. The rented tuxedo felt strange and itchy. He couldn’t help but wonder how many boys had worn it before—boys going to their first prom, or even men on their wedding day. He’d never been the school dance type, but Poppy had begged him to take her. He never could tell her no.

  Besides, they were just juniors. It wasn’t their real senior prom anyway. He’d done his research and found out his cummerbund was supposed to match her dress. Ryan never thought he’d be wearing pink silk, but here he was. In his hands, he clutched a plastic box holding a pink poppy corsage. The florist had told him a bright pink would contrast nicely with her light pink dress.

  He hoped the flower wouldn’t wilt until after the photos at least. “Ryan!” Poppy’s mom said. “What are you…”

  “Hi, Mrs. Baker. Is Poppy ready?”

  “Poppy? Well, yes, but…”

  Her mom trailed off and opened the door wider. Inside, Poppy had a digital camera held overhead as she snapped a selfie with a guy he’d never seen before. Even in that small moment, he could tell the guy was from the prep school across town. It was in how he held himself; the high quality of the tuxedo was evident even from the doorway. Since when did Poppy hang out with guys like that? Or guys at all?

  His own rented tuxedo suddenly felt unbearably cheap. It didn’t matter that for him, it had cost nearly a month’s salary. Working part-time wasn’t that big of a deal in their school. There were a lot of kids who worked. Some because they had to, like him, and some because they wanted the extra cash to upgrade the sound system in their secondhand cars.

  Poppy didn’t see him, but he caught sight of Mr. Baker. The man beamed as he took the camera from Poppy and started directing them like he was making the music video of the year. “Put your hands on her waist. That’s it,” he said. The guy with the jet black, perfectly combed hair gripped Poppy’s waist dutifully.

  She looked miserable, but she complied. “Smile!” her father said loudly, and she plastered a fake grin on her face. Poppy looked suddenly to the door, as if Ryan had called her. Since they’d met, they'd shared an uncanny ability to communicate without words.

  He opened his mouth, but she shook her head sternly and bit her lip. In her eyes was a sorrowful apology. “Poppy! Pay attention,” her father snapped, and her gaze shifted back to the camera.

  “I’m sorry, Ryan,” her mom said.

  “Colleen, shut the goddamned door!” her father yelled. Mrs. Baker sadly shut the door and murmured apologies the entire time.

  Shocked, Ryan de
scended the stairs and pulled the bow tie off his neck. Eli had helped him tie it after consulting a how-to video, and it had taken fifteen minutes. He undid the work in just a few seconds. What the hell do I do now?

  He began to wander and saw Poppy’s neighborhood with fresh eyes. For all the times they’d ran and biked up and down these streets, he’d never really noticed them. The cracked sidewalks, the indoor furniture shoved onto so many front porches, and the piles of motorcycles on some of the lawns were all reminders of where they came from.

  Funny how you can spend most of your childhood and youth not really knowing that you’re poor—until some rich kid from across town shows you without saying anything.

  He heaved himself onto their special bench at Mitchell Park. Ryan hadn’t even realized that’s where he was going, but it made sense. The sunset was a romantic one, and he took in the blaze of colors on his own. How many classmates are watching this same scene, with their date pressed into their arms? Eventually, the purples and pinks gave way to blackness. Stars peeked through the veil of darkness. He hadn’t a clue what time it was.

  He felt her presence before he saw her. Quietly, Poppy sat down beside him. “I didn’t want to go with Lawrence,” she said.

  Lawrence? Was that really his name? Ryan bubbled over with so much anger, he couldn’t bring himself to speak.

  “Ryan, I’m really sorry,” she said. “He’s—he’s my dad’s boss’ son. He’s seen pictures of me at work. Weird, right? That my dad would have a picture of any of us there? And he asked to take me.”

  Ryan sniffed and looked at his hands, cupped in his lap. You couldn’t say no?

  “I didn’t have a choice, I couldn’t say no,” she said. He glanced up, but not at her. Could she really read his mind? “Ryan, please.”

  He sighed. When she pleaded like that, she could break through him with ease. “How was prom?” he asked.

  “Terrible. I mean, of course it was terrible. Cheesy streamers and balloons for decorations. The food sucked, you would have hated that.”

  He laughed. “And what about your fancy-pants date?”

  “Oh, wow,” she said. “Bad. Really bad. Apparently that whole eighties ‘prom is for sex’ stereotype is still lodged deeply in that jerk’s mind. He kept asking the whole time if I waned to ‘go under the bleachers’.”

  “So, did you?” Ryan asked with a smile. Even though he knew it was ridiculous, he wanted Poppy’s reassurance.

  “No! Don’t be weird,” she said. “I told him he could go by himself. Then he said he had a hotel room downtown at the Ritz with strawberries and champagne waiting.”

  “Are you serious?”

  “Yeah, and all I could think of was Julia Roberts in Pretty Woman. I told him I didn’t have the boots or blonde wig for that.”

  He laughed again. “I think you could totally pull off thigh-high boots and a hooker wig.”

  She elbowed him in the ribs. “That’s why I’m back so early,” she said. “I know I was talking about this stupid dance forever, but…”

  “But what? Are you okay? Did something else happen?”

  She smiled grimly. “I took care of it myself. Besides, what I was saying was… it wasn’t the dance. It was going with you. With my best friend. I’m sorry, Ry. I messed up.”

  He lifted his arm and she slid against his chest with ease. As she rested her head on his shoulder, he wrapped his hand around her bare upper arm. “I’m sorry your night was so bad,” he said. “Both our nights could use a do-over.”

  “It’s not so bad now,” she said, and looked up at him with a glint in her eyes.

  “Cheesy,” he said.

  “It’s prom. It’s supposed to be cheesy.”

  “What time is it?” he asked her.

  “You never wear a watch. Not even eleven,” she said as she looked at her slim golden watch. It was her mother’s, reserved for fancy occasions.

  “It’s technically still prom night then. Here,” he said, and handed her the pink poppy. Miraculously, it still looked fresh.

  “Oh, Ryan,” she said, a little sadly. “I really am sorry.”

  He helped her put it on her wrist. “It’s okay,” he said. A dark car in the parking lot across the street turned alive with music. They both looked at it. There must have been kids making out and hooking up in the back seat the whole time he was here. He laughed. “Kids,” he said.

  The car’s radio shifted into Shaggy’s “Angel.”

  “Well,” Ryan said as he stood up. “Should we dance? Sorry, there aren’t any bleachers around here to invite you to.”

  She rolled her eyes as he helped her up. “This is like, straight cheesy,” she said. “You didn’t plan this, did you?”

  “Oh yeah,” Ryan said as he took her in his arms. “It was all part of my master plan to spend the night out in the park alone with a pink flower while I synchronized with the Honda in the parking lot for your arrival.”

  Poppy laughed. “I’m sure,” she said. “But seriously, this is so much better than the real prom. And I’m sorry. Truly.”

  “It’s not your fault,” Ryan said. He could feel the heat from her back through the slippery satin. She radiated it.

  “That doesn’t make it okay,” she said. She rested her head on his shoulder.

  “A lot of things aren’t okay. But this? This is pretty good. And at least this tux and horrible shoes get to show off a little bit.”

  “Yeah, those are pretty ugly shoes,” she said.

  “Hey! The guy at the shop said these were dope. Those were his exact words.”

  She lifted her head and looked at him. “Ryan, if a salesman tells you something is dope, you probably shouldn’t get it.”

  He shrugged. “Lesson learned. But how many other guys are dancing under the moonlight with a girl who ditched her date for them tonight?”

  She slapped him playfully on the chest. “Probably only you.”

  “See?” he asked as he twirled her in a circle. “The shoes work.”

  18

  Poppy

  “This place is insane,” she told Sarah. They both shifted in the uncomfortable wooden seats, arranged in a semicircle around the dance floor that had been turned into a game show stage for the night.

  “I know, right? And on a Thursday.” Sarah took small sips from her beer.

  “There’s Ryan!” Poppy said. She lifted an arm to wave him over. The surprised look on his face told her he hadn't known she was coming. “Didn’t you tell him I was coming?” she asked Sarah as Ryan weaved his way through the crowd.

  “I figured he’d assume,” Sarah said. She picked her bag up from the seat between them for Ryan to sit.

  “I’m the peanut butter in a lady sandwich, huh?” Ryan asked as he sat down. Poppy offered up a smile, but it was forced. “Anyone else coming?”

  “Nope, it’s a threesome tonight,” Sarah said with a wink. “Consider yourself lucky.”

  “I always do,” Ryan said. He grabbed a handful of Poppy’s popcorn without asking, and she automatically angled the paper bag in his direction.

  “Alright folks, it’s time to get started!” The emcee was a balding man with a paunch. “Now, as some of you know, this is a traveling show every Thursday night at various hot spots around town. To keep things interesting, every week it’s a new game, and we try to keep the details on the down low. You know what I’m saying?”

  A few drunk people in the audience whooped and hollered.

  “That’s right! Tonight’s game is all about how well do you know your partner?”

  Poppy felt awkward as blood rushed to her face. Obviously you’re the odd man out. Or woman. Oh well, at least it would be entertaining and she wouldn’t have to worry about getting called up on stage.

  Sarah gave her an apologetic look. “Sorry,” she said. “I didn’t know—”

  “It’s okay,” Poppy said.

  “We probably won’t get picked anyway. But if we do, we’ll all go up. Pinky swear,” she said, and
held up a symbolic pinky.

  “Do you two want to sit together?” Ryan asked as he munched through more of the popcorn. He didn’t take his eyes off the stage.

  “You just be happy sitting bitch,” Sarah told him with a poke to his arm.

  “Ouch! Watch those talons,” Ryan said.

  The emcee chose some easy prey in the first row—two couples who were clearly in the honeymoon stages of their relationship. The first couple “passed” with flying colors, which moved them to the semifinal rounds. The second couple admitted they were just on their third date. They were clearly nervous, and Poppy thought it was cute. She began to relax into the fun of the evening.

  She nursed her cocktail and stole glances at her watch. The whole thing was entertaining enough, but she couldn’t shake the idea she was crashing Ryan and Sarah’s date.

  “And, I’m sorry, but with that answer you’re disqualified,” the emcee said. Poppy looked up, and the newish couple stood up to exit. “She answered that her idea of a perfect vacation is somewhere tropical, not a snow-covered mountain lodge.” The couple in the semifinal rounds smiled confidently from their corner.

  Is it too early to call it a night? Poppy downed the last of her drink and started to wriggle on her jacket.

  “Now, how about… you!” the emcee said.

  “Me?” Ryan was caught with a fistful of popcorn halfway to his mouth.

  “Yes, the handsome, muscular man in the middle there. Which one of those pretty girls are you here with?”

  “Well, both—”

  “Both! Lucky dog!”

  “No, I mean, uh. She—she’s my date,” Ryan stammered as he put a hand on Sarah’s shoulder.

  “Well, bring her on down!”

  “Poppy! Poppy, come on,” Sarah said. She grabbed Poppy’s arm and dragged her up.

  “No! Sarah, you go—”

  “Come on! I told you we were doing this all together.”