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A high school student finds a grimoire that shows how to make magical disguises. |
Previously: "The Discovery of Gordon Black"  Chelsea shudders in your arms, and that shatters the last of your resistance. You step back and sink onto the gym mats. Chelsea kisses the side of your throat. You have no idea what she expects of you. Never mind what Gordon does with her; you still remember the way Eva laughed when you kissed her the other night. Still, you've got to do something? Right? You tug at the hem of Chelsea's sweater, but she squirms away. "Not like that," she says sharply, and grabs your hands. "This is for you, pookie, all for you." She sits back and grins, and pulls at the bottoms of your shorts. They catch on your swollen cock, but—and this is practically a first in your own personal experience—she doesn't gag at the sight of your obvious erection. She pulls the shorts below your knees, then she pulls your underwear down. She lifts the hem of your shirt, and you help her pull it halfway over your shoulder to get it out of the way. You spread your legs and lean back, and she hunches between your legs. The experience is warm, and wet and frictive, and she uses her mouth and her tongue and her cheek and her soft palm and gentle fingertips. Trembling spasms run from somewhere deep between your hips up to the peak of the shaft, with reciprocal shivers running up and down your spine. You are, briefly, aware of the comical way you are gasping, opening and closing your mouth like a drowning fish. Your hands, what do you do with your hands? You settle for clenching the back of your head. How and when to come to climax is not within your control, but your terror of doing it wrong keeps pushing the moment back. Finally, either you can't stand it or she touches the right button, but something down there comes into focus: idiotically, a picture forms in your mind of the Death Star's firing sequence. You make some kind of noise, and Chelsea recognizes it as a sign or she reads the vibrations down below, for she unwraps her tongue from its business and takes your cock lightly in her hand, massaging it in time to your spasmodic eruptions. When it's over you lay back, heaving and gasping and wheezing. There are some tissues in the supply box, and she quickly gets you cleaned up. After throwing the tissues away, she drops the shorts over your crotch and crawls into your lap, wrapping her arms around your torso and laying her head on your chest. "You take such good care of me, Gordon," she croons. "I love you so much." Yikes. And you are supposed to say in reply? Gordon would likely say? "I love you too," you croak. She raises her head sharply and stares at you. Her face is so close you can't make out her expression. Then she presses her face into your chest and rubs it hard with her nose and cheeks. She hugs you tightly. And you start to get aroused again. "What do you want to do tonight?" she asks. "I don't know. What do you want to do?" "Go for a walk up in Sutton Wilderness?" "Okay." "Or there's the TCK Grill." She raises her head. "You and me and Gloria, and Rachel Burton—we haven't been out with her in a while. I'll tell her to bring someone else." She grows more excited. "I'll tell Gloria, too. We can make it, like, a triple date! Unless— Is there someone you wanna bring along, one of the guys?" "I'm happy as long as you're there." She squeals softly and wriggles in your lap. "You are being so sweet today, pookie." She puts her head back on your chest. "Can we just sit here like this until it's time for practice?" "Sure." * * * * * Sitting together doesn't mean sitting quietly, though, for Chelsea prattles on and on. Apparently she doesn't expect you to make any comments, and is satisfied with the occasional grunt from you. It's a lot of gossiping and complaining. Most of the names you are familiar with, but little of it means anything to you. Until Eva Garner's name comes up. "You know, it's her fault you had do that thing today." "Really? How?" "I was talking to her when he barged in. Just said down, it was incredibly rude, you know." "But how's it Eva's fault?" "It's because of what I was telling you about, how she's such a tease. You wouldn't believe it if you saw him, he's even stupider looking than the guy you had to— Who came in and said those horrible things to me. Anyway, that guy, I guess he's a friend of the guy Eva is stringing along, and he comes into the library and he's telling her she'd better not be fucking around with his friend, and threatening her and stuff, you know? And you can't just do that, that's harassment. So I'm telling him what he's doing is wrong and how Eva, I'm sure she'll figure out she shouldn't tease that other guy. Anyway, then this guy just cranks it up to ten with me." She sighs. "I guess he's trying to be loyal to his friend, I suppose." She clucks her tongue. "Maybe I should just let Eva and whatsisnuts—" She snickers and repeats the word "whatsisnuts. "Maybe I should just let them mess around with each other. She'll get burned good if he's anything like his friend today." You know it's a mistake even as you say it, but you say it anyway: "Well, what if Eva and this guy hit it off?" She lifts her head to stare at you. "That's not going to happen." "It takes all kinds. You see some funny couples around." Her eyes narrow. "Would you like to see a friend of that guy—" And it's clear that "that guy" is Will Prescott. "A friend of him dating a friend of ours?" "I guess that's a point." She puts her head back on your chest. Then she sits back up. "If I pointed him out to you," she says in a light singsong, "do you think you could convince that guy it's a bad idea to be seeing Eva? I mean, him and his friend are obviously peas in a pod." "You mean like—?" Of course that's what she means. "But if you're right they'll just break up anyway." "Of course I'm right. But like you said, sometimes you see these funny couples. And Eva's— Well, she and her sister get these ideas. Gag, it must be because they're twins, they each get only half a good thought. But Eva might get it into her head to make some kind of example by pretending this guy is her boyfriend. Like it's just so cool of her. And then we'd be stuck with them." "Just let it go," you say stubbornly. "Leave Eva and this guy alone." Hurt and disappointment wash over her face. "I don't ask much of you, Gordon," she says. "Like, I don't ask you to do anything about Seth and Cindy." "What's wrong with Seth and Cindy?" A scarlet band shows across her forehead. "Jesus, Gordon! It's not like I haven't told you almost five thousand fucking times with them," she shrieks. "If my opinion— If everything I say to you—" She gets up and glares down at you; her complexion has curdled. "It really is in one ear and out the other with you! Except it isn't! Yeah, fuck me!" She stabs her at her own chest. "Fuck me for looking out for you! Fuck me for worrying about you!" Tears spring into her eyes, but she shows you her teeth. "Well, fuck you too!" She kicks you savagely. "And put on some goddam clothes!" She storms out, slamming the door behind her. You took all this calmly, for you don't know how else to take it. Anyway, it isn't like Gordon can't be even more enraged at you for getting his girlfriend pissed at him. Not after you let her suck you off. Whoa, that's right! Chelsea Cooper sucked you off! You put your arm behind your head and relax with a highly satisfied smile until the final bell rings. * * * * * You're still in this attitude when you again hear footsteps on the stairs. They sound quickly, far too quickly for you to get dressed again, so it's with your shorts only draped across your lap that Steve Patterson finds you when he comes in. For a moment you feel completely naked. Which you practically are, of course. But this is worse. For several seconds you are convinced that he can see through the mask and see who you really are. You don't relax even when he leans against the door jamb. "Well, look who got laid," he says. You try to maintain a poker face—very hard, considering the glacier that's precipitating in your guts under Patterson's icy gaze—and say nothing. "So are you coming down to practice or not?" "I think I'll skip. I actually don't feel good." "Suit yourself, but for God's sake don't tell Chelsea she made you sick." He goes back downstairs. You put your clothes back on, which is good, because ten minutes later, after the noise of practice starts—lots of balls slapping and yelling—the door opens again and Jason Lynch comes in. "Yo, what're you doing up here?" And that's when it occurs to you that maybe you should switch masks with Caleb. Let him bloody well deal with Lynch and Patterson and Chelsea (especially since the latter is now mad at you) and these psychos; after all, he's the one that got you into this mess. Besides, you did a pretty good job of playing "Caleb Johansson," and in that role you'd be better placed to guide Gordon through the role of playing you. * To continue: "A Shared Life" |
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