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A high school student finds a grimoire that shows how to make magical disguises. |
Previously: "Three Can Be Company Too"  Carlos wants to get a new mask out to you. can u get it her n 10 min? you ask. wtf? he replies from Jessica Garner's account. nvr mind were r u? "I need you to run an errand," you tell your beta. "What about Brianna?" "It'll work out, work out better this way. You won't be here when she gets here, which'll gimme time to talk to her first." "I'm just along for the ride," he sighs. "No you're not, you're driving out to Potsdam Park." That's where Carlos has just texted to say he'll meet you. "Jessica Garner will have some stuff for you. Bring it back here." You slap him on the backside and send him toward the door. * * * * * He's been gone ten minutes when you hear a car outside. You count to ten before opening the door. Brianna is just raising her fist to knock at it. She dimples at you. "Hey, come on in." You grasp her upraised fist with one hand while cradling her hip with your other as you draw her in and kick the door closed behind. "Nice seeing you again." "So where's the party?" She looks around the tiny room, and her nose wrinkles. "Not started yet." "It's not just gonna be us, is it?" She turns around. She is still within the ambit of your arms, and her tits brush against yours as she looks up into your face. Has she shrunk? She seems shorter than you remember her being. "No." "Poo. I thought maybe, you and me—" She glances back into the house. "Whose place is this?" "Shep Tsosie. Maize. Baseball pitcher," you explain when she shakes her head. "Cherokee?" "Oh, him? Guy with long black hair?" "Probably." There's more than a few guys at school who wear their dark hair long. "We call him 'Ponyboy'." She turns back into the house and paces the tiny perimeter. "Well, we used to, back in middle school, up until, like, our sophomore year." "Yeah, why's that?" "'Cos we wanted to ride him like a pony. He had a ponytail, too. I don't think he wears it in a ponytail anymore." "Yeah, I don't think so," you agree. "It's too bad. He looked better with a ponytail." She squints at you from the other side of the sofa. "You should tell him. He could probably get some if he did." She cocks her head. "Where is he?" "Out. He won't be back till a lot later. Will Prescott's coming out, though." "Oh yeah?" She makes a face. "Something wrong with Will Prescott?" "No." But her expression remains sour. This is going to be harder, even for Justin, than you anticipated. "Listen," you start, "I asked him out here 'cos him and I, we got to talking and—" You step around the sofa, to take and brush the hair from her face. It is limp and lank, and she has repowered her face and put on another layer of lipstick. The only thing really appetizing about her is that she is obviously trying so hard to make herself look willing and available. "He's never done a three-way," you tell her. Brianna doesn't react, unless it's to sway slightly on her feet. "Yeah?" she says. "Is that okay?" "Lots of people haven't done three-ways yet." "I mean, is it okay with you if that's what we do." She doesn't answer, but she doesn't flinch as you cradle the side of her head. You put your face into hers and kiss. That brings her to life. Kissing her is like sucking on a fucking fruit roll-up. Her lipstick is flavored, and she must have been sucking on a bag of Lifesavers or something on the way over. But her mouth comes alive, and your hand falls to the small of her back and you press her hips into your crotch. "So where's he gonna be? Your friend?" she asks when you surface again. Her breath whistles through her nose. "Can we put him out in the car?" "What? I told you, we wanna have a three-way." "So let's have a three-way, you and me in here and him out in the car." You make a face. "Don't be a—" But you catch yourself. "He likes you." "I didn't get that impression this morning," she retorts. "Is that what you're pissy about?" "I'm not being pissy!" "He wasn't ready for you, that's all. You surprised him. He wasn't expecting you to be there." "What, was he coming over to suck you off, and I got in the way?" "Listen, I want us to have some fun here—" "I do too, Justin." Brianna squirms away and falls back onto Maize's sofa. She crosses her legs under her and digs into her purse for cigarettes and a lighter. "But you text me to come out here and I find out— What? That you're more interested in him?" She puts the flame to the cigarette. "If I was interested in him I wouldn'a asked you out here." "It's gay, Justin." She hisses the smoke out through clenched teeth as she jams the lighter and pack back into her bag. "Two guys and a girl is gay. She's only there so they can do it with each other and pretend it isn't gay." "Who the fuck told you that?" She gives you a look. "Whose idea was this, anyway?" "Mine." "Why with this guy?" "Don't you like him?" She shrugs. "The way you were talking about him at school, it sounded like you were into him." "Oh, I can be into anybody. Like, in principle. Are you in him or something?" "Jesus! Not like that." "Like what, then? What's the fucking deal, Justin?" The question leaves you squirming—Justin wouldn't cross the street to avoid Will Prescott, but he wouldn't cross it to talk to him either. "I'm getting to know him. We hung out this weekend." "Doing what?" She smirks. Suddenly you are very tired of this conversational badminton. You don't have the patience—and you probably don't even have the skill—to finesse her into a three-way. But you won't need to, not if you turn her into your second beta. But you're too stubborn to give up. So you fall atop her, straddling her hips and legs between your knees and pushing her back into the sofa with your chest. She has to arch her neck to glare up at you. "He's a fucking virgin, okay?" you tell her. "It's not 'cos I'm into a three-way that I'm asking for this. He's trying to come out of his shell and— Well, do you remember how fucking hard it was for you when you decided to—" You twist the cigarette from her fingers and slip between your own lips. "When you decided you were sick of standing on the fucking playground sidelines while waiting to be picked?" Her eyes freeze. Then they fall and dart about. "What, you feel sorry for him or something?" she asks. "I'm not fucking sorry for anyone. There's no fucking percentage in it. But he comes out and he fucking tells me he's fucking sick of being fucking scared of—" You pull the cigarette from your mouth and tap the ash onto the back of the sofa. "And do I know anyone he could, like, maybe hook up with." You expel the words into her face along with a lungful of smoke. "So then you show up today," you continue, "and I think maybe you and him could do something together, 'cos you're talking like you like him. But he's a fucking virgin and he freezes up and now you've decided, Fuck him, 'cos— I dunno." You push yourself back onto your feet, but still you stare down at her with smoke stinging your eyes. "Maybe virgin guys scare you, Brianna," you snort. "'Cos maybe they remind you of how fucking scary it is to be a virgin." "So what do you want from me?" The whine in her voice surprises you. "I don't want anything. What I was hoping was that we could have some fun. You know, scratch some itches. You could scratch his itch, and I could scratch yours. You were acting all today like you had an itch you wanted scratched." She sniffles and dabs at her eyes with the back of her hand. "God, you're a bastard." "For what?" "I don't want to do anything with you now." "Then leave. There's the door." But she doesn't move from the sofa, and keeps touching her eyes with her fingertips. "This is too weird," she says at last after a long and awkward silence. "You said you liked him. This afternoon. You and your friends were into him. You would'a liked it, wouldn't you, if he'd come on to you. If he asked you out someplace, to hang out. If he'd—" You kneel on the sofa next to her, and kiss the side of her neck. She shudders. "If he'd done that. You could help teach him how to. That's what he wants. More than anything else." You can feel the balance of her desires shifting when you hear Will Prescott's truck grinding to a halt outside. That's all for now. |
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