The Book of Masks (Vol. 5)

The Price She Had to Pay

Previously: "Fading Thunder" 

"You're not talking about making more things like Yumi and Chen, are you?" you ask Chelsea.

"No!" she squeals. She digs her fingers into the thick, curling hair on your chest. "I just mean masks! I could put one on so I could be this girl with you, and another mask when I wanted to be that girl with you, and—"

You grunt.

"You think I don't like it with you like this?" you ask. You are flagging, having spent yourself, but you rally a little, and lift your hips to push up inside her.

She titters, but her eyes turn hooded.

"I know you do! But if I was someone else, wouldn't that be fun too? And it would still be me. I'd just ... look different!"

There's a gleam of meaning in her eye now, and you remember the talk you had last time, about whether you and she would still do this if you looked like other people.

So:

"Yeah, okay," you reply, even as you thrust into her a couple of more times. "That sounds like fun. You want to do the same thing with me? Get me some masks that I could wear?"

"Mmm," she murmurs as she grinds herself deeper onto you. "We can talk about that later. But is there anyone in particular you want me to be, Will?" She drops forward to run the tip of her tongue up the side of your nose.

"Surprise me," you groan.

She giggles, then raises up, throws her head back, and tries arousing herself on your softening cock.

* * * * *

But you can't help thinking about it later, at home, and you can't resist going online onto school-related social media sites to look over candidates. You flick from one gallery to another, following link upon link, and burning your eyes with the possibilities. I'd do her, you think, and her. And her. Her too. After awhile you have to lay the phone aside and close your eyes until the sense of dizziness passes. I'd do all of them, you marvel to yourself. Because it would really be Chelsea letting me up inside that girl!

Also, you're goaded by Patterson's stallion-like need to screw anything that crosses his path.

At the end of it all you can't decide on anyone in particular that you'd like to see Chelsea copy, so you decide to leave it to her.

Or, rather, you decide that you'll let her copy the new cheerleaders (plus maybe others that she tries out).

You drift off to sleep with a hard erection, thinking and dreaming of all the girls you are going to screw in the weeks and months ahead—and how they will all be a single girl with different faces.

* * * * *

"I'm gonna be working with the guys an extra hour after practice," Seth tells you the next morning in the locker room, as you're changing into workout clothes. "Is that gonna bother you and Gordon?"

"In the gym?" you ask. "Why would that bother us?"

"Well, I mean, if you guys are going to be up in the loft—"

"Won't bother me. Ask Gordon if it'll bother him."

Javits makes a face.

"You seem to be the one in charge these days," he says. "Also, it's easier to talk to you." But he flinches when you turn a cold gaze upon him.

"Gordon'll let you know if you're fucking with his loft time," you reply as you pull a basketball jersey down over your torso. You glance around, wondering Where is Gordon? "Anything else?" you ask, for Seth is lingering.

He shrugs, stiffly.

"Kendra texted me last night," he says, "asked if we could, uh, 'hang out' sometime."

"Good. Give'r your hardest screw."

"Well—" He bites his lip. "I'll wanna use the loft."

"When?"

He hesitates. "I don't, um—"

"Just let me know. I'll get out of your way." You give him a steady look. "Don't worry, you'll have fun. Kendra's a screamer."

Javits's eyes widen.

* * * * *

The buzz at lunch is all about the cheerleader tryout that will be held on Monday after school. The announcement will not be made until tomorrow—Thursday—but that was the decision that Chelsea and Coach Tesla arrived at. It will give the candidates a few days to prepare without stretching things out interminably.

There will be five spots to fill, following the resignations of the Garner twins, Cindy, Lin, and Yumi. Chelsea has also made it be known that Michelle Estrich—the outsider on the squad—is on probation and will have to try out as well if she is to retain her position. (Chelsea is privately speculating that Michelle would rather leave as well.) Only Chelsea herself and her three best friends—Kendra Saunders, Gloria Rea, and Maria Vasquez—are safe.

It's not only at lunch that there's buzz about the tryouts. In all your classes you feel the eyes of girls upon you, for it is assumed that Gordon—and Gordon's friends, mostly meaning you—will be tugging strings behind the scenes, to break ties if nothing else.

And it wasn't just potential tryouts like Meghan Farris in first-period English who were giving you the eye. Phoebe Beauchamp, who with Kim Walsh in a second-period Spanish tutorial with you, bluntly made the tryouts the subject of the Spanish-language conversation you were supposed to be practicing. A quien crees que va a escogar Chelsea? she asked. And, A quien te gustaria ver unirse? You shrugged. But of course you were asking yourself the same questions.

Trouble is, you're not really sure who will be trying out (except for Meghan Farris, and of all the candidates, she would be near the bottom of the list of those you'd be keen to fuck). And the two you would most like to fuck are not going to be trying out. Kelsey Blankenship hates Chelsea and wouldn't join even if Chelsea begged. And Sydney McGlynn (you have heard) only laughs when it's been suggested that she ever try out.

* * * * *

"Are they going to be practicing every day down there?" Chelsea asks later after school. From downstairs, in the gym, echoes the squeak of rubber soles on a hardwood floor, the shout of teenage males, and the hard, flat bang of a basketball being driven downcourt. You and she are cuddling under the central pillar of the loft while Gordon, his head down, plays a desultory game of solitaire on his phone a few feet away.

Don't be jealous, pookie, she had told him when he came into the loft earlier, and his post-practice glare deepened into a scowl at the sight of her snuggling in your lap with her arms around your neck. We're all friends. Steve's your friend. You like to share things with your friend. Also, she added as Gordon's expression lightened without fully losing its wounded quality. I ordered Steve to do this with me. He has to do what I say, same as you do!

You had suggested to her that she take this tack with the fake-Gordon—telling him that you were a magical servant of hers the same as he is—so that he wouldn't conceive ay kind of grudge against you. And so when Chelsea whipped around to beam into your face and said, Kiss me, Steve! you nibbled at her warm and juicy mouth without pretending even a tenth of the enthusiasm you felt.

"Who you talking about? Javits and them?" you ask. You pull her closer to your chest, locking her inside a one-armed embrace while and slowly sliding a hot palm over her silky thigh. "I don't know. I thought he was just asking about today, but maybe he meant it to be a regular thing. I put the fucking fear into him when I said I wanted those guys to improve."

She titters.

"That's one thing I always liked about you, Steve," she says. "You know how to manage people."

Then she shivers.

"It scared me, a little, too," she murmurs in a much lower voice. "Gordon would tell Steve what he wanted, and Steve'd be the one to make it happen. I was always scared that he'd decide to be in charge, since he was basically running things anyway."

"Well, you don't have to worry about that anymore. You're in charge."

"Am I?" She gives you a puckish look.

"In charge of both of us." You push in to kiss her. She kisses you hungrily back, and even claws at the back of your head.

Then she pulls away at the sound of a loud, sharp shout from below.

"God!" she sighs. "How long are they gonna be down there?"

"Better down there than up here. Be kinda hard to do this if Javits was up here with us. It's hard enough now," you add with a glance at the phone-absorbed Gordon.

Her eyes narrow. "Is going to come up here when he's done?"

"Probably. At least for a little while. If we're up here still."

"God!" she exclaims again.

"Oh, and he needs the loft tomorrow night. Kendra asked him out."

Chelsea sags.

"Didn't we get rid of Jason," she says in a tight voice, "because he was always in the way? Well now it's Seth who's always going to be in the way!"

"That's the price you had to pay for breaking him and Cindy up."

"And they might still get back together!"

"I wouldn't worry about that."

"He's in the way, Will!" She frowns at you.

You've seen that frown on Chelsea's face lots of times, when she was talking to Gordon. It's the frown she gets when she has a definite thought—a definite idea for him—and is upset that he's too obtuse to pick up on it without her telling him.

She wants to get rid of Javits, you realize with a chill. Not just kick him out of the loft. She wants to put a mask on him, same as she's got one on Gordon, and on Chen. Like you've still got on Yumi.

Next: "Another Member for the Team" 

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"Table of Contents (Vol. 5)" 
"The Book of Masks (Vol. 5)"