Four Play: A Collection of Novellas

by Silver, Amalie

  “Emotions are at their peak when we’re teenagers. Hormones rage, and directly affect our…urges. What we think is love, isn’t. But it takes years of truly believing you’ve fallen in love and even more years of being rejected to know that what you felt really wasn’t that. So if you haven’t heard it until now, I’m going to give you a simple and brief education: sex should be with someone you love. And chances are, you’ve never felt it. No matter how much you may have convinced yourself you have. And until we can teach our teenagers, our students, and our sons and daughters that abstinence is the best way of preventing STDs, pregnancy, and having our hearts stomped on, then there’s absolutely no way you can stop us. And I’m pretty sure we all know that convincing us kids is impossible.” I shake my head with a half-smile.

  “We all knew what sex was before we reached the age of nine. We knew how babies were made, and we all knew that someday we were going to do it. We may not have properly understood the act of sex, but you can bet your ass by the time we reached high school, we’d figured it out. It’s instinctual. Our very existence is based on reproducing—to create little humans so that they can create more little humans, and so on. You can’t convince me that the way our species continues to flourish is wrong.”

  Arleen smirks, and I continue. “Condom or not, it’s going to happen. You can’t be naïve to the situation.” I look at the clock and realize my five minutes are almost up. “In conclusion, what I’m telling you is this: We knew about sex long before you wanted us to. Some of us chose to wait. Some of us chose to share it with the person they thought they were in love with.” I hesitate and clear my throat. “And some of us chose to be douchebags.”

  I look down and state my final case firmly: “Making contraception available to us is the only responsible thing to do. Whether you like it or not.”

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  I wish I could say I went back to the hotel room that night with a big fat trophy in my hand. Seems the judges weren’t so impressed with my stories of promiscuity and distasteful language choices.

  I still say I was a bit cheated.

  But it doesn’t matter because Arleen isn’t upset with me, Miss Shields isn’t on my mind every second of the day, and I actually have a new goal: college.

  “I’m exhausted,” Arleen sighs, plopping down on the bed and covering herself with the comforter.

  “Me too. And even though I lost the debate,” I say with an exaggerated roll of my eyes and a chuckle, “I’m glad I’m here with you.”

  She smiles. “Well, it’s back to reality tomorrow. We have a nine-hour bus ride home, and it’s back to school on Monday.”

  “Then I suggest,” I slide in next to her and crawl under the covers, “that we turn off the lights and pretend we’re back at the ruins.”

  My kiss starts at her neck as I nibble my way up to her ear.

  “It’s about damn time,” she mumbles.

  “What?”

  She laughs. “Well, you were in this bed with me all last night and you didn’t touch me once!” She playfully smacks my arm.

  I snort. “Did you not listen to a word I said at the podium today?” I continue laughing as she wraps her arms around me.

  “Yeah. I heard a few sentences. But I was more concerned with the fact that your fly was down.” She snickers.

  “It wasn’t. Oh, God. Was it?”

  She nods and tries to mask her smile. “Kind of discredited what you were trying to say altogether.”

  “And here I thought I’d tanked the debate because I was losing my touch.”

  “Oh no, Simon.” She looks down shyly. “Please don’t lose that.”

  I see that familiar second-base signal as her hand wraps around mine and inches up her shirt.

  No. I retreat my arms and inch away from her slowly. “Don’t, Arleen.”

  Her head dips down and she starts tugging at her bottom lip. She’s frowning, and I feel another stab of guilt.

  She feels rejected.

  “Listen to me, Arleen. I get it. Believe me, I completely understand. Because I want to. So much. But you have to understand, I don’t want to take advantage of this—of you. I’ve waited my whole life to feel the way you make me feel, and I’m not about to jeopardize this.”

  “I know,” she whispers. “I’m not ready, anyway.”

  I nod and exhale deeply. “Good.”

  “But can we make one more rule?”

  I smirk and turn my head toward her. “Another rule?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Okay. What’s the rule?”

  “That we speak to each other at school, we continue to meet at the ruins, and you take me to Homecoming in three weeks.”

  “Come on, Arleen! I was going to ask you anyway! Why do you have to make me look like even more of a dick?” I laugh.

  “Well, isn’t this your first time? I’ll forgive you this once.” She pulls me back under the covers with her and giggles.

  “My first time?” I stammer.

  She bites her bottom lip and then gives me a small, lingering kiss. “Your first girlfriend?”

  I kiss her again, but with much more intensity. I pull her closer to me, and her body warms underneath my touch. “Yes,” I say, taking a breath. “You’re my first.”

  The End

  Surrendering to Innocence

  © Amalie Silver 2014

  Originally included in the Forbidden Fruit anthology

  Prologue

  “Are you ready?” I whispered.

  Standing naked next to the bed, his breathing slowed and his deep brown eyes bored into mine. He slowly blinked once, and after an audible swallow, he nodded. “I just want you to know something,” he murmured, crawling between my thighs. Grazing his knuckles over my pink nipples, he whispered something into my neck, sending another wave of shivers down my arms.

  “What did you say?” I asked breathlessly, feeling his erection swell against my clit.

  He aligned his face with mine, giving me the look of a frightened boy. Putting his arms on either side of my head, his maturing muscles caressing my cheeks, he whispered again, “This really is my first time. I don’t know what I’m doing.”

  I nodded and positioned myself directly under him. The tip of his cock pressed against my entrance and I gasped at how sensitive I was already. The aching and selfish need for this young man was overwhelming, and I knew the guilt of being with a boy barely out of high school would thrash against my conscience forever.

  But I had to have him.

  His finger traced along my curves, from my breast to my hip, but he never took his eyes off mine.

  “I know,” I said.

  I gently held his shaft and a soft moan could be heard from the back of his throat. Then I submerged his tip inside of me and pulled it back out, spreading my wetness over both of us.

  “Are you ready, then?”

  He nodded. “I’m ready.”

  “Good,” I replied, and thrust him inside me.

  Chapter 1

  Two weeks earlier…

  “Jake! Don’t forget your lunch!” I called toward the front door. Reaching across the island, I grabbed the brown paper bag with the name Jake handwritten on the front, and hurried to the door before he could hop into Watson’s Jeep—or Washington’s Jeep. Or was it Wilson’s Jeep? I could never remember that kid’s name.

  I swung open the door and saw them backing out of our driveway. Racing barefooted across the lawn, I hurdled over our manicured rose bushes to catch up with them. “Jake, honey! Your lunch!”

  The vehicle jerked to a stop as both boys turned their heads. “Thanks, Ma.” Jake gave me a lopsided smile, looking embarrassed about my display of acrobatics across our front yard.

  I raised my brow and playfully folded my arms across my chest, smirking. “Listen here, Jacob. There’s only a couple of weeks left of your entire high school career. I’m going to make sure you’re eating a healthy lunch every day until summer starts. God knows what you’l
l be eating then.” I smiled and my eyes flickered briefly toward Wilson’s cocky smile. He winked at me, catching me by surprise.

  Jake nodded and rolled his eyes. “Next time, do a cartwheel. Maybe swing from a branch. Draw as much attention to us as possible,” he said sarcastically.

  My mouth dropped open at his tone, but I couldn’t deny my amusement.

  “Not to mention,” Wilson cut in, “your choice of attire.” Wilson’s brow pinched and he tugged at his bottom lip to conceal a grin.

  My head snapped down toward my legs.

  Silly me forgot to put on a pair of pants.

  By the time my head jerked up again, the boys were driving away. Jake turned around and called out, “Ma! Don’t forget about the beach tomorrow!”

  I looked up to see the Fast Ship Delivery driver nodding with a tip of his hat while dropping a package on the neighbor’s doorstep. I nodded and bashfully sprinted back toward the house.

  ***

  As I stepped out of the shower, I could hear my cell ringing from the living room. I threw a towel around me and left small puddles on the floor as I made my way to my purse.

  After digging to find my phone, successfully keeping the towel pinched in my armpit, I tried to answer it but voicemail intervened before I could press the button.

  Padding back to the bathroom, I checked Caller I.D. It was Darcy.

  Darcy Matthews was my hero. We were in similar situations: she’d divorced young, but was able to build a very structured and satisfying life for her two children. And although I’d never met them, her kids loved their routine—or so she claimed. Sundays they made homemade pancakes; Tuesdays were popcorn-and-movie nights; and Fridays, they were at home playing Trivial Pursuit.

  Darcy and I had joined the PTA together several years ago, and while she eventually became lead organizer, I stayed on the sidelines and helped her achieve legendary status in her position.

  Once I reached the bathroom mirror, I smudged a small area with my fist to clear away the condensation. I stared at my face in the mirror, unable to decipher my own age. What once was a cute and stylish bob had somehow—in the past fifteen years—turned into a mom hairdo. And although I was always so surprised at how well I was aging whenever I looked at my reflection, the fact was that I was still aging. I turned my head from side to side, studying the fine lines on my forehead, and pouted.

  There was no way around it. What I lacked in gray hair was made up for with denial—the kind that only seemed to accompany women in their mid-thirties, who’d lived a life filled with cutting coupons, watching too much reality TV, and spending Saturday nights alone with a secret vibrator she lovingly named “Girthy.”

  Okay, so maybe that was a bit case-specific, but I knew I couldn’t be the only divorced, middle-aged mother in the city whose life had dissipated when her marriage did. But I was ignorantly—and happily—content with my existence. I had my own home, a stay-at-home graphic design job, a son that I adored, and a strict daily routine.

  As usual, after my nine o’clock shower, I made myself a half pot of coffee. Plopping one sugar and a teaspoon of milk into my favorite mug—the one I’d gotten printed with a drawing Jake did at age four—I then sat in my study and checked over the day’s schedule. Being a naturally forgetful person, I had highlighted in green the top priority assignments for the week, and since it was Friday those had already been completed mid-week. It felt good to be organized, on top of my game, and structured. “Mom always said, ‘Life is best carried out with a plan in mind,’” I said aloud, and began whistling away the morning.

  At noon, I picked up the PTA brochures from the copy store and checked them three times for grammatical errors, color inconsistencies, and content. They turned out perfect.

  After lunch, the rest of the afternoon sped by in a blur. Jake was staying after school to study in the library, so I wouldn’t be seeing him before my meeting. But it was normal for Jake to stay after school on Fridays: he said it was the only time the library was empty and quiet.

  Chapter 2

  “Heya, folks! It’s great to see some new faces around here tonight. I’m Christine Cole, and I do most of the design work for our little club here.” I gleefully smiled with a wave of my arm and scanned the group to find Darcy mouthing the words to my prepared speech. It was mandatory that she approve any and all words spoken at our meetings. “So if you need a brochure made for one of your events, or have an idea for the new fall look on the sports catalog, I’m the girl you come to. For all you parents and teachers joining us next year…” I continued my speech, looking around at the new recruits sitting in a circle around me, and smiled. A pair of familiar blue eyes smiled back. Her hair was styled in a chic, messy way, instantly making me jealous I couldn’t pull off that look at my age. I focused on her face, trying to place where I knew her, and she nodded and whispered something to David. “…What’s most important to me is the development of these young people,” I continued, ignoring my pull to remember how I knew her. “We need to make sure that they’re learning what they need to in order to move along in their lives, personally, scholastically, emotionally, and physically. It’s up to us—the teachers and the parents—to equip these kids with the tools they need to move forward.”

  ***

  After the meeting, when everyone was standing around and socializing, I still couldn’t shake that I knew the blue-eyed woman now speaking to Paul, a science teacher in the district. I made my way to them and as Paul was taking a sip of his soda, he gave me a quick nod and pointed his pinky toward her. “Christine!” he said after swallowing. “This is a new recruit for next year—”

  “Well, well…” She turned and gave me a wide smile. That’s when I recognized her. “If it isn’t Christine Miller,” she said, putting her arms around me. “I thought that was you!”

  “Mona Stephens? Oh my goodness! It’s been almost—”

  “Twenty years,” she managed to choke out with some disdain.

  My stomach turned for a second remembering that I really was that old. “Twenty? Really?”

  “I know.” She stuck her tongue out in disgust. “Our twenty-year high school reunion is coming up next fall.”

  I shook my head. “How have you been? Are you married? Kids? Are you here as a teacher or a parent?”

  “Parent. Yep, my son John is entering high school this year. It’s scary, isn’t it? How fast they grow up.”

  “Tell me about it, Jake is graduating in a few weeks.”

  “Holy shit!” she shouted. I winced and looked around the room of eavesdroppers. “Was Jake the kid you had in high school?”

  I closed my eyes and slouched. After a heavy sigh, I looked around the now silent room and everyone was leaning in our direction, keeping their heads down. I saw Darcy out of the corner of my eye, shooting daggers toward Mona. Paul looked at me wide-eyed, and I could sense his piercing judgment.

  “Yes. I was much different back then,” I murmured, shame-faced.

  “If you’ll excuse me,” Paul said with a tight smile, patting my back and walking away from us.

  “You were awesome back then!” Mona gushed. “Do you remember the time we snuck out of my parents’ house during that birthday sleepover just to give that guy—” Her finger went to her lip, trying to come up with the memory. “Brian Cane!” she shouted again. “Just to give Brian Cane a blow job? God, that night was hot. A total wet dream for him to have both of us go down—”

  The people in the room gasped. My hand covered her mouth instantly and I jerked her to the hall outside the classroom.

  “What. Are. You. Thinking?” I stuttered at her once we were alone. “I am an upstanding member of the PTA, Mona! Those people in there don’t need to know what kind of person could be influencing their children.” Wow. That came out so wrong.

  Her hand swept up to cover her laughter. “That’s not what I meant,” I said, regaining my posture. “What I meant was although we had some…inappropriate times in high school, it doesn�
��t mean that I’m the same person I was then. Those people in there,” I pointed toward the room, “don’t need to think that I’m encouraging the same kind of behavior with our kids.”

  She giggled, as though it wasn’t her position in jeopardy. “Well, it was still a hot night.”

  After a few seconds of trying my hardest to keep a straight face, my stony façade cracked when I remembered the night to which she was referring. We laughed and in unison shouted, “Oh, Mo, Mo, Moan…Ahhhh!” Continuing with my cackling, I was able to get words out between gasps for air.

  “You were…the one…that made him com—”

  “Ahem!” Darcy approached us with pursed lips and irritation in her tone. She sneered toward Mona, and then ignored her existence altogether. “Chris? May I speak to you privately a moment?” My smile fell flat. Why do I feel like I’ve just been busted by a teacher gossiping in class? Giving a quick nod and holding up my finger for Mona to wait, I followed Darcy a few yards away.

  Darcy snapped around quickly and folded her arms over her chest. While holding up her hand, she snipped, “I don’t even want to know what that conversation was about. But I think we both know the importance of maintaining a responsible and respectable semblance for these folks.” Her eyes shifted over my shoulder and narrowed toward Mona. “I don’t know who she is, but perhaps you should speak with her about refraining from talking about immature sexual promiscuities in high school.”

  I went to defend Mona, but Darcy held her hand up again. “I think I’ve made my point perfectly clear. No need for further discussion.” After glancing at her wristwatch, she flattened the invisible wrinkles in her skirt and patted her non-existent stray hairs back into place. She stood as if a stick were just shoved up her… spine and gave a sickeningly fake smile. “I have to get going. Joey and Ellie are waiting for me at home. It’s Trivial Pursuit night.” She held her head high walking past Mona—avoiding eye contact—and marched back into the classroom.