by Molly Hoffer
A month after school went back into session, I found out that I was accepted via the early decision program into Columbia University, and that I could stay home for college, instead of moving into some appalling dormitory. The news was so good that I put aside my campaign against Nick for a couple more months. Before I knew it, finals came and went, and I focused all of my attention into finishing with perfect marks, and into my Prom Queen campaign. Because I didn’t talk with Nick at the school, it was as if people forgot our connection, so there were few obstacles in my way towards victory. But, then Meg said that she would run too. Meg had earlier relinquished her throne to me, after we joined forces. She really liked the amenities at my place, and I took her on vacations to Europe, and bought her presents that meant that she almost always gave way to my demands. But she thought she’d find out that she also got into Columbia later than I did, in March or April, and when she got a rejection letter from them instead, and found out that she’d have to go to NYU and we’d be in different schools, she decided that she had little to lose, and launched a competing Prom Queen campaign.
I had our chef cook enough low-fat cupcakes for every voting student at Trinity. I also hired servers that stood at the entrance and delivered these cupcakes with a bookmark in support of “Vanessa for Prom Queen!” To match this, Meg started an unofficial sleeping around campaign, figuring that if she slept with a couple of senior Trinity boys daily, she could get 25% of the vote just from this free promotional campaign. She already had the other 25% of the males and some of the girls in her recreational time. I considered mimicking this strategy, but I just wasn’t into Trinity guys enough.
Across that school year, my interests in men moved into those with significant business holdings at the start. Then for a while, I was into male professional dancers (I mean like ballet or jazz, though I did slip into stripers a couple of times). And as the year was coming to an end, I started frequenting clubs at Columbia to begin making some connections, and was suddenly totally attracted to the college boys there.
My cupcake idea didn’t go well because cupcakes somehow weren’t in style enough to sway the vote, and even if somebody ate the cupcake, they didn’t really have to vote for me afterwards. I considered switching to tiramisu, but it was too messy, and got cream and chocolate powder all over the few students that suffered through the experiment. I scheduled weekly parties at my parents’ ballroom and started to bring the odds back in my favor.
But then, at one of these balls, Dominic made an appearance. We had an unspoken agreement that if my parents threw a party, he always joined us; but if I threw a party, he was never invited, and remained in his room or outside the penthouse for the night. And on the night when my final social playing card was being measured, he decided to just stroll over to the ballroom.
He didn’t even dress for the occasion. He just tossed on some black sweater and black pants, which made him look like some goth that was threatening partygoers with drinking their blood. Then, he hugged the drinks table, and was staring at the dancers, until they abandoned the dancefloor, creeped out by his glare. It was all I could do to stop myself from going over there and dragging him out by his ear. Of course, doing that would’ve been even more humiliating than what he could do on his own. So, my guests left a couple of hours earlier than expected, and it was an epic fail that was the pun of all jokes for the next week in school. Even before the votes were added up, I knew I had lost the war.
I still had to go to prom to avoid looking like a sore loser, and to make the situation even more painful, my folks seriously put me in the same limo with Dominic again. I mean, come on! With all their money, two limos for a prom was too much?! I guess I did my job hiding that I hated Dominic well enough so that they didn’t realize that I would’ve rather walked to the prom.
Dominic’s eighteenth birthday was a few weeks earlier, and he asked not to have a huge party for it. He spent most of the day in his room, quietly working on something at his desk. It was weird, who just locks themselves in on their birthday! Anyway, because he went through all those changes before his senior year, he hadn’t taken the SATs, and there wasn’t enough time to get all the college prep done in that one year, so he had no plans of going to college, and seemed to be threatening to spend the following year just living off my parents (which was really my job).
I couldn’t believe it! There I was on my special night, the night where something was changing forever. I was about to bloom out of girlhood and into adulthood. The prom symbolized the end of high school, and the beginning of my eligibility for marriage, and for childbirth down the line. If I had gone through that event in my life, having a kid was no longer shocking. I wanted to experience that moment like a princess winning her queenly crown. But, not only was I not going to get a crown on my head, I also had to bum a ride with a foster kid, as if I was taking the bus to my prom.
I have to get him off this groovy train meant for one! I thought, glancing over at him at the other side of the limo. A few plots came to mind, and I dismissed them and then I realized that there was only one thing that was horrid enough for my parents to see him as the outsider that he was. I had to seduce him, and they had to catch us together. Seeing him in that “position” would have signaled that he was a predator who was milking their trust. They wouldn’t suspect me as the sexual aggressor because women are supposedly dominated and captured in sex. They are displayed as objects that are “screwed” in porn and X-rated movies. Even when women are on top, they scream and moan as if they are being rapid by a thug that has burst into their house to rob them.
CHAPTER SIX
With this goal in mind, I began a series of tactics I usually employed when I was trying to get a guy to express interest in me, useful when the direct approach and solicitation is awkward, like when the guy is your math teacher, or a club bouncer.
My legs were crossed and facing away from him because my body language was betraying what I was feeling. But now, I uncrossed them, and moved a few inches down in my seat to pull my skirt up, so that most of my legs were showing. The skirt was short enough to just keep my thong out-of-sight. I also turned my frown up side down and started smiling lightly, something that I had never done before with both of us in that limo. Then, I gradually started battering my extremely thick and long glued-on eyelashes. I tried not to be too obvious about it, but still to do it frequently enough so that his attention was drawn to them like a moth to a flame. I also started touching my thighs, chest, cheeks and other erogenous body parts with my fingers. I made it look as if I was doing it subconsciously by not looking down as I did it, and instead scanning the limo’s windows or glancing up at Dominic coyly. Since there was little else going on in that limo, and it was a half-an-hour ride across the city, Dominic couldn’t help but notice these movements. He tried to look away, and to keep his attention focused on the passing buildings, or on his watch. But, they clearly made him nervous and he started blushing.
When it was time to get out of the limo, I made sure that I made a movement to get out first, and then brushed my leg against his knee, before bending over half-fold and nearly revealing my thong to Dominic on my way out. I noticed, glancing back, that he was looking directly at my ass at that moment.
After I got out, I saw a crowd of Trinity students outside the Hilton hotel where we were holding the prom, and this brought me back to my other goal that night, or not looking to embarrassed when I didn’t win the Prom Queen post. I put aside my flirtation with Nick, as any of my friends noticing it would’ve been a New York social suicide. He seemed relieved to see that my attention and my feet were at a distance, and he carried on with the night, as glumly as usual. He did dance with a couple of the wallflower girls that came without dates too.
I met up with my date for the night at the lobby, where he was chatting with some of his football friends. I just remembered after Pete took my hand and led me into the ballroom that Pete and Nick had that epic first-day fall-out. Of course, now that I thought
about it, Pete must’ve been especially jealous of Nick back then because he heard that Nick was “living” with me. I guess Pete had a crush on me over the prior twelve years we spent in the same class at Trinity. Pete lived in an apartment complex above that Hilton hotel, so I insisted that he doesn’t do something silly like take a limo to my place, and then back to his own place. I also didn’t really like Pete enough to share a ride with him too, of course I also just realized that I might have been able to talk my parents into giving me a separate limo if I had a date riding with me, but I was just totally out of it and forgetful because there were so many things on my mind between the prom, and the end of my high school career.
Nick gave Pete a dirty look when he saw him taking me by the arm, and Pete returned the same. Pete’s hands were sweaty, and he danced awkwardly because he was shaky and nerves. I studied Pete’s features and realized that he was kind of the stereotypical tall-dark-muscular-and-handsome type. Did he grow an inch recently? I questioned. I led for most of the night to keep Pete in-rhythm with the music, and to display my own dancing ability in its best light. Right before I knew the Queen was about to be named, I executed a spectacular dance that I rehearsed with Pete in advance, which included him lifting me up over his head with his hands, spinning me several times, and us otherwise dominating most of the dancefloor, and keeping everybody’s attention on us, and not on Meg and her mediocre date, which happened to be the last guy she slept with on her Queen-bee campaign. He was the president of the chess club, and his glasses had such thick black rims that I could spot him in a crowd on the other side of the ballroom.
The Principal announced, “And the Trinity Prom Queen is Meg Bey!”
I clapped along with the rest, and smiled, as if I was ecstatic for my friend. And, as she went up a step to the short stage, I did try to match the smile to reflections on how the Prom Queen title was really far emptier than a title of royalty without any official duties. I mean, all she had to do was do a dance in her Prom Queen capacity, and then gloat and say “Thanks!” to people that congratulated her for a couple of days, and then she’d never see all those people that knew she was elected Prom Queen again. I also tried to recall the good times I had with Meg, and I finally decided not to hold a grudge and was one of the first to congratulate her as she got off the stage. Losing wasn’t as embarrassing as I imagined in advance, as it seemed that few people really admired to fanned the new Queen and most of the girls looked at her spitefully and with jealousy, and while that’s flattering, who really benefits from that?
I did my best to calm down, but after I exchanged an awkward, wet French kiss with Pete at the entrance, and got back in the limo, and saw Nick getting in after me, I once again started feeling a shrill panic building up, and a sirens going off in my head that at least I had to push Nick out of my way, even if there were a lot of other things in my life that I couldn’t control.
I returned to my seduction techniques, as if the gap of time that was occupied with the prom didn’t happen. If I was like most other girls my age in America, I might have been anticipating my first sexual experience on the “special” night of my prom, but my flower had burst long ago, and there was no “special” guy to celebrate my special night with. Doing something outrageous with my foster brother seemed like a more “special” way to go for my situation.
I examined Nick closely, thinking of the best way to get to the point and jump him…
A stylist hired to do my hair, also styled his hair, and for once they were neatly arranged, sculpting the sharp lines of his finely cut jaw. His blue eyes shined from the reflecting lights from downtown’s lamps and window decorations. His tux was in the latest fashion. His shoes were polished and shiny. He was reclining in his seat from the emotional exhaustion that the prom night had on him. Here was something we had in common. Without being able to stop myself, I scanned his groin, and noticed that there was a bulge there as if Nick was aroused, but he had crossed his legs in a way that prevented me from confirming it. He might have been trying to cool his boner down because he picked up a magazine from the limo’s rack and started reading a style article in it, something he would never have done otherwise.
I scanned myself, and realized that my dress had slipped a bit, and more of my breasts was showing than the designer intended. My instinct was to pull on the string holding it up to make sure the nipple didn’t end up falling out entirely, but then I re-calculated Nick’s boner and decided to pretend I didn’t notice the slippage. In fact, I leaned forward a bit, squishing my breasts together with my hands to accentuate the small purple-pink edge of my liberated nipple.
The display obviously didn’t go unnoticed, as Nick scanned them several times, and was fidgeting in his seat, as if trying to casually scratch his boner, even if it meant an accident that the limo driver would’ve noticed as he opened the door for us.
He was finally semi-relieved when the limo stopped at our building. He was in such a rush to get out that he ignored my slight move towards the door, and tripping over my foot, and hitting his head on the roof of the car, he rapidly stumbled out the moment the driver opened the door. He was bending his back in a way that made the suit of the tux come down over his pants, which did hide his groin somewhat as he blindly ran through the lobby and to the elevator. The doorman saw me coming and held that elevator’s door for me, despite Nick’s hints that he should give me the next elevator, like, “Hey, I really should go” and “Ahh, ok, it’s late, isn’t it?” I gracefully approached that elevator’s door, knowing that the doorman had received a thousand tips from me and had never seen a tip from Nick, so he was unlikely to comprehend Nick’s objections, ignoring my gradual approach.
“Thanks Johny,” I said, handing him a $10 from my purse. I never carried any bills under a $10, but always had $10s because offering tips in bills larger than a $10 occasionally led to misunderstandings and questions about if I wanted some weed or crack with my elevator ride.
During the elevator ride, Nick stood facing the floor keys, nearly touching them, and as the doors opened, he bolted down our hallway, into our apartment, and straight for his room. I thought about coming up and flirting with him in the elevator, but he seemed so mortified by his erection that I decided that an approach at that moment would’ve been unwelcome and threatening to his manly dignity. So, I hanged back, and slowly clanked on my high heels to my room. I got to my room and freshened up, and then heard that Nick had gotten on his bed. He had jumped into bed way earlier than he usually did. It usually took him at least an hour to brush his teeth, wash his face, and do the other pre-bed chores. But, now he was in bed at that relatively early hour, and I could hear a strange rustling of the sheets and a strange flexing of his pillows beneath his head. It was no mystery what he must’ve been doing over there.
Hm… I thought. I could go to bed, and let that be the end of my prom night, but how dull. And there’s a scheme in place that I gotta see play out.
I knew that my parents had scheduled a charity dance for that evening and that they would’ve been back within the hour, as it was around 12am. If I left my door open, and there were heavy noises coming from Dominic’s room, they would surely examine if their foster child was having freaky sex in their home. Then, they would’ve busted Nick, and I would’ve been the baby of the household once again.
I looked in my closet and found a light pink see-through negligee, embroidered with a few flowers to barely hide or rather obstruct the clarity of detail from the breast and pubic areas. I also put on a pink thong to match the negligee. I messed up and tossed my hair, as if I had rolled around in bed after getting in, which gave them a slightly wild and overgrown look. Boys had commented that they liked it when it was messy.
My only worry was that my parents, the butler or a maid would suddenly enter the hallway in the moments I needed to get into Nick’s room, and I would be spotted nearly butt-naked in the middle of the hall, instead of being discovered in Nick’s embrace.
Still, I fough
t my urge to rush into Nick’s room, slowly opened the door, and stepped in with my bare feet. My toes were neatly manicured, and I had decided that the fragility of bare feet would’ve been more seductive to Dominic than if I had worn heels just to get from my room to his.
Nick didn’t notice me because most of his face was buried in his designer comforter. So, I took a few stealthy steps until I ended up at the head of his bed, looking down at the aggressive jerks Nick was giving his fully erect and throbbing cock.
As I reached this position, Nick noticed me coming into view, and was so startled to see me there that he gasped, “Ahhh!” and sat up, pulling the comforter so that it fully disguised his cock, and his occupied hands.
He might have been tempted to bury his head entirely in the comforter, but then he noticed what I was wearing.
CHAPTER SEVEN
“I heard that you were occupied through the wall, and thought I’d come in to give you a hand…” I said as directly as I could, blinking my long eye lashes, smiling, and playing with a curl of my hair.
Nick’s arousal was at a point-of-no-return, and seeing most of my body through the negligee brought him to the edge of sexual insanity¸ so he pulled himself up in his bed, grabbed me by the shoulders and pulled me down into his bed. I jumped in with the pull, and in a sly move got under his comforter with him. He kissed me sensually on the lips, squeezing my upper lip elegantly between his, and then squeezing my lower lip. This toyful flirtation turned me on, as I was used to less foreplay and more dry humping from the men I had been dating at the time.
I hadn’t heard any rumors that Nick was sleeping around at school, and I hadn’t found any notes about old lovers in his diaries, but Nick’s bedroom manners and technique were worthy of the pros. He gradually started kissing me more aggressively, and started to penetrate my mouth with his tongue, as if it was his cock. The sensation made his eyes roll into his head. He stopped, perhaps to keep from erupting, and moved on to kissing my neck, earlobes, and then gradually, moved down the negligee to my breasts and then kissed my protruding nipples through the airy fabric. Finally, the fabric was too much of an intrusion, and he pulled the negligee off me over the top of my head. I raised my hands up, surrendering my nudity to his searching hands, which massaged my back and went lower to massage my buttocks as soon as they tossed the negligee to the floor.