Some Place Better Than Here

Chapter 31: A Case of You

31
A Case of You

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It wasn't intentional. The moon was right and the night had settled with a late August chill.

When Danny went running after Max, he didn't come back. The instant the boys had cleared for the woods, the onlookers had shrugged, another day another drama, and then immediately went back to their keg-standing and yapping. I couldn't quite do the same; far too much of my life had just been exposed. Not far from me, I saw Tanner's huddle, all with their backs turned, and heard Fat Jordan mumble something about "the rich bitch," as he turned to jeer at me.

But no matter how drunk or embarrassed I was, I waited for him.

Ashley tried coaxing me into getting a ride home with Tanner, who apparently wasn't drinking and "weed doesn't make a difference," and who, somewhere along the way, had become friends with Cody. But no amount of persuading, even as I continuously drank and smoked, blitzing my mind, would ever tear my pride down that low. I told Ashley I had a ride and waited at the forest's edge. I didn't want to leave without Danny.

By the time the night had dwindled into the single digits of the morning, the bulk of kids cleared out—only a few all-night partiers stayed behind. The fire in the trashcan shrank into a flat glowing light that glared off the inner steel brim.

The last drop of Ashley's vodka drained down my throat. Throughout the rest of the night, I would drift back and forth from the edge of the forest to a huddle of stoners sitting at a picnic bench back in the main clearing. I'd con a shot, a hit of a joint, or two, and then return to the edge, watch for Danny, and then go back. And so on. It was just as the trashcan fire died that Sean approached me.

My head fell into his chest when he staggered up behind me. I had to look up to see his eyes. He asked me if I had a smoke. Together we found one of the party's leftovers, and without any trouble, Sean got cigarettes for us. The flame jumped out of the darkness as he touched the tip of my cigarette to his lighter. An orange ring glowed in his eyes. He called me beautiful and grabbed my hand.

The next thing I knew, I was in Sean's car and he was driving me home. I told him I didn't want to go. He asked me if there was anywhere else I wanted to go. I said no.

We parked on his street, and he led me by the hand through his back door. When we reached the bottom of the basement stairs, he grabbed me by the shoulders and kissed me and I locked my hands around his head.

We fell on the bed. Thrusting his hard erection through his pants onto me. Then, God, I couldn't slip my jeans off fast enough, and he was touching me. His fingers were so long. I grabbed his face and pressed my lips into his. Our faces seemed to mash. He snatched the lace of my panties and stripped them from my waist, tearing them off my ankles.

And then I was down on my knees, giving him head, and then we were fucking. The biggest I've had. It was amazing and I was drunk and I needed him. I loved him.

"Can I fuck you in the ass?"

"Sure."

Then it fucking hurt. And I went from feeling like an angel to a whore, and he didn't stop. With my face continuously crashing down into the mattress, my eye exploded with pain. I howled, trying to tell him to stop, but it didn't sound any different than an orgasm. The tears stung where the flesh was still raw, and every time he submitted me into the mattress, the ache burst all over again. I never told him to stop. I never wanted him to stop. He finished when and where he pleased and then crashed into the mattress. Snoring.

My panties had disappeared in the dark. So I slipped on my jeans, pulling the inside-out leg back out, and by the wits of my bygone drunken mind, somehow found my way out of his basement apartment. The pain shooting from my eye throbbed from my temples to my chin.