Near Touch

Chapter 12: Lockers

Amy wondered vainly how far beyond the Catholic line she was currently treading, as her fingertips grazed against the cool metal of each passing faded-blue locker. 

Her thoughts were rampant on the streets of unabashed promiscuity. The passion that had exploded inside her heated her skin deliciously from within. Or it could have been the pesky feverishness, she wasn't a hundred percent sure either way. 

She imagined steam swirling from the point where the freezing air caressed her skin. The school corridor yawned dark and hollow as Amy walked, her heart wanting to tear apart its cage, and the sound of her footsteps softer than its beat.

For the rest of the people, the euphoria of the victory had mellowed out with the end of the game, but for Amy, it had evolved into something even more exhilarating. In the night, the monster that had slumbered for many trying months had been unleashed and it clawed at her insides, tenderly tearing apart the soft tissue, as boiling blood gushed out from the wounds. 

It was an ache so tantalizing it made her want more, so much more.

Hormones, she thought bitterly. Damn hormones.

In a sensual, hypnotic daze Amy followed the pull that had been hooked and driven deep inside the small of her back. It was leading her to the only place she thought he might be in, but she had no shred of confirmation if he was.

Amy sure hoped he would be.

Her subconscious snapped. Jesus woman, just go find a cucumber or something.

Against her better percipience, Amy knew it was far too late for that. Her head was spiraling around in circles, as though she was on a twisted carousel that climbed higher as it spun swifter. 

Amy felt alive, as lasciviously alive as only a deep, raw, hungry kiss could make a girl feel. She was trying to rein herself in, steer away from this very welcome distraction; yanking her hair through her fist, but that resultant pain was dull and meaningless against the cavernous agony that consumed her.

She was just so tired of being the good girl.

Amy had discovered an aphrodisiac and it had pushed her off the edge – the fear of getting caught doing something that felt so right, in the wrong place and at the wrong time. This is why they go at it under the bleachers during a game, she thought as she clenched her teeth till they hurt. It's all about the kicks.

Finally, Amy could hear voices from inside the room she was looking for. Male voices.

Is he in there?

"I'll see you at my house then, Malarkey," a boy's voice called out, as heavy footfalls became louder, coming straight towards her. Stealthily, she ducked behind a fire extinguisher and watched Jason Darko exit the boy's locker room with his sports bag slung across his shoulders.

It was too perfect. He was inside. But was he alone?

Amy realized she hadn't given much thought to the part that came afterwards. Unsurprisingly, porn had turned out to be a disappointment in the hour of her greatest need. What on earth am I even supposed to say to him? Take me, oh why don't you?

Amy drew a deep breath, steeling her nerves.

Even the pathetic door protested when she pushed it open.

As far as she could see, the locker room was unoccupied and in sore need of an air freshener. But even the room that understandably reeked of sweaty boys couldn't douse out her libido. It was partitioned into four rectangular, three-sided cubicles that had individual black and electric blue lockers lining them.