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A high school student finds a grimoire that shows how to make magical disguises. |
Previously: "ILFs in Odd Places"  "We'll have to play it by ear," you tell Sydney. "I'll have to see when I can get the car back—" "I could pick you up," she says. "We can't go in the same car, in case someone sees us." "Kelsey could pick you up. I could drive myself out." "You don't want anyone seeing your car at the Donna, Lisa. You're not the kind of girl who goes to the Donna.." At least, not before this afternoon, you silently, mordantly add. "Well—" "Just lemme call you back later. Maybe I can get a ride from someone else. And Kelsey can give you a ride out there." "Okay." There's a lingering pause. "I'm really looking forward to seeing you out there, Will," she says in that soft, wistful tone that Lisa like to talk in. "I've been missing you." You rest your forehead against your bedroom wall and clench a fist as your cock unfurls. "Been missing you too, babe." * * * * * "Jesus!" Gary Chen snarls after you're on the road. It's a little after five, and you've just told him where you want him to drop you off. "You want me to play fucking chauffeur and take you out where?" "Don't bust your hymen, man. I don't even know if anything's gonna be happening." "At the fucking Donna?" His voice is nearly a strangled shriek. "Then why the fuck—?" "I'm just meeting Kelsey Blankenship out there—" "Fuck!" "—and it's about the fucking country club and the string quartet, dickface!" You glower at him. "We got a chance for a gig out there, that's what we're meeting to talk about." "Pfft! At the Donna? How fucking clueless do you think I—?" "You know who owns the Donna, motherfucker? The fucking student council president! Kelsey's got business out there with her, or something, that's why she wants to meet out there." "Bullshit! Or you wouldn't be going out there!" You glare at him, but bite your tongue. But after Chen has fallen back into a mulish silence, you do congratulate yourself on the improvisation. Almost everything you knew while being Amanda Ferguson has faded, except for a few cold "facts" which you retained. Kim, and the office at the Donna where school-related meetings are sometimes held by Kelsey and her gang, was one of them. And just to make sure that there won't be more awkward questions, you pull out your phone and text Kelsey to tell her to park in front of the office. "No, I'll tell you how come Kelsey wants to meet at the Donna," Chen grumbles, coming to life again, when you're only a block away from the motel. "It's 'cos she's out there with Hennepin. Or she's gonna be meeting him out there after." "Well, maybe," you allow. "So how come you're acting with me like a jealous girlfriend?" Chen gives you a sour, seething look. "I know what you're thinking, man," he snarls as he wheels into the motel parking lot. "That she'll ask you to stay for a three-way afterward with her and Hennepin." "'Course that's what I'm thinking. Now that you mention it. Thanks for giving me something to jack off to tonight." "Oh, fuck," Chen hisses as he brakes to a hard stop in front of the motel office. * * * * * You have beaten Kelsey and Lisa out there—they have to drive in from much farther away—so you have a good, long wait to yourself, during which you glance inside the office—telling the bald, bullet-headed ex-cop behind the desk that you're waiting for someone—to confirm that Kim Walsh is not there, as that would be really awkward. It's a relief when Kelsey's BMW purrs up and stops. The girl behind the wheel flashes a glinting smile at you. But your eyes are on the passenger who gets out. She's wearing that frilly, baby-blue dress you told Sydney about, and white stockings and black pumps. Her dark hair is carefully brushed and coiffed, and a soft, plump smile plays on her lips. "Hi," she says in a soft voice as she comes around the car. The sight and voice of Lisa Yarborough, looking directly at you with glinting eyes and making you briefly dizzy. The BMW is pulling away before you remember to ask about getting some money for the room, but Lisa takes some fifties from the purse she's carrying and slips them to you. On tottering legs you return to the office to exchange the bills for a room card. Number seventeen, this time. Outside, put yourself between Lisa and the parking lot and, after slipping an arm around her waist, lead her down to the room. The closed-room scent of the Donna rushes out to envelope you as you open the door, and it is by now so familiar that you have an almost Pavlovian reaction to it. It's the scent of sex. "I can't let you rip this dress off me, like we talked about," Lisa says in a breathless giggle after you've pushed her inside and locked the door. "I'm gonna have to buy a new one if—" You lunge for her skirts, lifting them with both hands and pulling them up over her waist. "Put your hands over your head," you order, then lift the hems up high enough that you can see under them. She's wearing tight-fitting satin panties, and those white stockings go up almost all the way to her hips. You salivate and stiffen: this is not a way you ever fantasized seeing Lisa before, but the sight now of her soft, ripe flesh so exposed sets off firecrackers in your head. After a mouth-watering moment of this, Lisa bats at you until you drop the dress long enough for her to undo the cloth belt at her waist. She throws it aside with a gently exasperated smile, then lets you lift the dress up high enough again to expose not only her legs and waist but also her soft stomach and the breasts in their white brassiere. She shifts on her feet as you study her with watering eyes, and only after she's called your name a couple of times do you let the dress fall again. "Here, let's do this right, if you want to do it this way," she says, and reaches behind to fumble at the back of the dress. "Can you get the zipper?" You pull it down, and she quickly shrugs the dress off and tosses it to the side. Now Lisa shows herself in bra, panties, white stockings, and black pumps. You sink onto the edge of the bed with a groan as hard as your cock. "Make yourself comfortable, Will," Lisa says as she pushes you onto your back and straddles your hips with her knees. "I want to show you what you missed out on when Lisa dumped you. And what you'll be getting that she's never given anyone else!" She gets onto the bed, still straddling you, and in her underthings crouches over you to kiss you deeply. Her hair—it's Lisa's hair, it's scented with her shampoo, and you remember putting your nose into it to kiss the top of her head once—drapes over your face and caresses it. When she lifts up, she unhooks her bra and tosses it aside. Her breasts—drooping, snowy mounds with big, rosy tips—hang like ripening fruit. She cradles them and squeezes them at you. "You want to kiss them, Will?" she asks in Lisa's most lilting voice. "I want you to kiss them." You reach up to pull her down, and she drops them into your face to touch with the tip of your tongue and teeth, to suckle at, and to nip at gently. She tugs off the panties next, and splays her legs to you can boggle at her bush, and then she pulls off your shorts and underwear while you peel off your shirt. But she's still in stockings and pumps, and you're still in socks and laceless Skechers, as she lowers herself onto your straining shaft with a deep-throated groan. * * * * * You're finally out of your socks, and she's out of her stockings, when—satisfied physically, at least for the moment—you start to talk. You hesitate, then blurt out, "What did Lisa really think of me?" You're lying side by side, hands on each other, heads on the pillows, close enough that she has to rear back to focus her eyes on you. "You, Will?" "Well, not this asshole." You'd given some thought to taking Kirkham's mask off, but that would have delayed the fun. She sighs. "Don't make yourself crazy, Will," she says, and starts to rub your back and hips. With a titter she says, "Just think of what you've got now!" Rrrmmm! That does start your motor again. And she pulls herself close to you again. But you stall out a little when she asks, "What's Lisa in for with David? I mean, as a boyfriend?" "Pssht! He's an asshole." You kiss her. "But you got the kind of body he likes. One with boobs." You put your mouth into the small of her throat and throw a leg over her. She groans appreciatively. "But he's in a string quartet, right? You were telling me there's more to him, right?" She gasps a little as your peel your lips back and put teeth to her. "Sure," you mumble. "So tell me about him. About his mom and dad." You sag, and withdraw. Talk about a buzzkill. Briefly—for you're eager to get back to the action—you outline who is in the family. Sydney wants to know where his dad is. You have to admit you have no idea. And then you make the mistake of mentioning that he might be getting a step-dad, and that leads to telling her all about yesterday and last night with Dr. Robert Hamm. When you're done, Sydney rolls onto her back and stares at the ceiling with a distracted smile. Your heart is beating with dread as you ask her what she's thinking. "Oh, I was just thinking how convenient it would be if we had a house that belonged all to us. Like Kelsey's or Lisa's. But how doing it with David's family? Replace his mom and brother? And his mom's new boyfriend?" she adds. "We could all play house together!" That's all for now. |
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