Under Mr Nolan's bed

“Mmmmmm…” Her hands were moving over her thighs like they had after her orgasm the day before, just petting herself lightly. She looked over at me and smiled. “Doesn’t it feel good to be bad?”

I touched my lips, still wet with her juices, and nodded. I had to admit-it really did.

Chapter Four

Being bad was a slippery slope. I found myself slipping, and I couldn’t seem to stop it. I sat between my parents at mass on Sunday and tried not to listen. Instead I counted the word “sin.” Forty-seven sins. Father Michael said the word “sin” forty-seven times, and the one time he was practically yelling from the altar: “How tender is our flesh! How hard our hearts! How much more aware are we of suffering than of sin!” and it made my heart leap to my throat.

But there I was, skipping school again on a Friday, sitting in Erica’s room, listening to music and drinking one of the beers that Bobby had brought with him while I watched them slow dance. I was feeling just how tender my flesh really was, how vulnerable and aching. Just seeing their bodies touching, swaying together, made me long for something that I knew was a sin.

And I just couldn’t deny it anymore. It was all I thought about, no matter what I was doing-standing in the shower, sitting in class, eating my mother’s pork chops-I couldn’t stop thinking about seeing Mr. Nolan lying on his bed with his hand wrapped around his cock.

But it wasn’t just watching him that night that had me spinning, it was also the way he smiled at me the next day, the way he reached out and touched the corner of my mouth with the napkin when he shared his bagel, the dark look in his eyes when they fell between my legs that morning. Watching Erica and Bobby, the way they nuzzled each other and kissed, I had a startling revelation, and I knew then that I was really in trouble-I was falling for my best friend’s dad.

I finished the last of my beer, seeing Bobby’s hand slip under Erica’s shirt, and stood, hanging onto the edge of the night table when the room tilted sideways and my head started buzzing. I’d only had two other beers in my whole life, and this afternoon, watching Erica and Bobby together, I’d had four.

“I’m gonna leave you two alone,” I murmured, seeing their tongues twining together, Erica’s leg wrapping around Bobby’s calf as he moved his hand under her shirt, the other edging her skirt up so high I could see her panties as he squeezed the flesh of her ass in his hand. “Let you guys have the bed.” They broke off kissing and Erica looked at me. “Are you sure?”

“Yeah.” I inched past them toward the door.

“You don’t have to.” Bobby’s his eyes swept toward the hem of my skirt.

“Why don’t you stay…and play?”

My eyes met Erica’s and I knew she’d told him about us, I just knew it from the way she bit her lip and looked away so fast. My face burned, my chest tightened, and I shook my head.

“Three’s a crowd,” I insisted, opening her door and not looking back at them as I shut it behind me.

I stood in the hallway, leaning back against the wall because I was having that dizzy, buzzing feeling in my head, still. They were whispering, and I heard the bedsprings and knew they were making out. I don’t know how long I was there, but it was a while, standing and contemplating Mr. Nolan’s bedroom door.

It wasn’t until I heard Erica moan and say, “Oooh yeah, lick it!” that I made up my mind.

I’d never been in his room all by myself. It felt like I was walking into a secret, and the anticipation in my tummy was tight and tingly. I laid down on his bed, telling myself that I was just a little drunk, dizzy still, but I turned on my belly and buried my face in his pillow, smelling his lingering scent and remembering him. There was nothing I could do but think about it-how his cock had swollen in his hand, how fast he pumped it, the words he used (“Fuck that hot little cunt!”) that made my face burn and my pussy wet.

Sliding off the bed to the floor, I reached underneath and slid out the box.

Inside there were hundreds, thousands of images, all graphic, colorful and compelling. Even just in the short time that we’d been exploring the collection under Mr. Nolan’s bed, I found myself less aroused by the photos than I did by the videos. It seemed like some sort of progression-the more I saw, the more I wanted.

I looked longingly at the television, but I didn’t want to disturb Erica and Bobby or draw too much attention to myself, so I leaned back against the bed, pulling my skirt up and settling down with one of the magazines called Private.

The first couple pictures were girls together, licking and touching each other, and I couldn’t help but remember Erica’s tongue between my legs.