The Book of Masks (Vol. 5)

Another Member for the Team

Previously: "The Price She Had to Pay" 

Best to not even ask or confirm. Best to just get it done.

"I'll make a new mask tonight," you tell Chelsea, "get it on him tomorrow."

She stares, then gasps brightly, and jumps at you with a hard kiss.

"Oh, Will!" she exclaims breathlessly. "You read my mind!"

"I did?" You pretend to be surprised. "Shit. I was just thinking it was the natural thing to do."

"Mmm." Chelsea hugs you closer, and grind herself against her. "I like that we think so much alike!"

* * * * *

But are you thinking so much alike? Afterward, you wonder.

I told her we weren't going to make any more masks, you remind yourself that night after supper, as you are changing clothes for your study date with Brenda. (You had forgotten about that date, so you had to text Chelsea saying that it will be Friday before you can "take care of" Seth; she said that was okay, and and even told you to "have fun" on your date.) So why did I give in? Why did I suggest it myself? No— Why did I just tell her that's what I was going to do?

You're in the bathroom shaving, and you can't miss the hard, cold look in your eyes as you ask yourself these questions. Was I letting Chelsea pussy-whip me? No. You're goddamned sure that wasn't it. It just made sense.

You rinse the razor under the running faucet, then pause to fix yourself with your hardest look.

It was you, wasn't it, Patterson? you challenge your reflection, trying to daunt him with his own glare. Mother fucker. You'd put a mask on your own grandmother if that would get you what you wanted. And you want Javits under your thumb and out of the way, so that you and Chelsea—

A hard thrill, of desire, loathing, lust, hatred, adoration, and a mad, maddening fascination with Chelsea runs through you. She's a psychotic bitch who manipulates and man-handles anyone who gets close to her. She's selfish, paranoid, high-strung, high-maintenance, grasping, and as capricious and dangerous as a cyclone. But she loves you, and she loves you (you can tell) as hard and as fast as she loved Gordon.

And she loves you for who you are, not for who you're pretending be. In fact, she loves you even more intensely because of what you did to this motherfucker looking back at you from the mirror, and what you're doing to him now.

You pinch your nose shut as you slide the razor over your upper lip. And the mother fucker loves her too, because of what she did, you realize. He's as ruthless as she is, and has to respect her (but hate her) for what she did to him, through you. You're just playing her game, but as long as you're Steve Patterson, she's playing yours as well.

Ss she's right, you are thinking alike. But it's Chelsea and Patterson who are thinking alike. The shock (but is it a shock?) is that you so easily let Patterson do the thinking for you this afternoon.

You wipe your face clean with a wet washcloth, then pat it dry and slap on some aftershave. Then you touch a little cologne to your throat, and give yourself another look in the mirror. It's not just your eyes that are hard. So are the planes of your face, and your skin is stretched tight over them. You start to get a boner as you think of all the pussy this face has gotten its possessor.

But you soften a little when you recognize the clouds of doubt that are now fogging your gaze. Who is in charge here? Me or Patterson?

There might be an answer in the fact that there is doubt now where there had been cold anger before.

You drape a towel around your neck and—shirtless, in jeans—pad back to the bedroom where you have lately been sleeping.

* * * * *

You are distracted by these late worries and thoughts, and by the promise you made to Chelsea, so that your time with Brenda is fairly muted. Only two of her friends—Marjorie, and some drip named Brad—join you. You keep things business-like as you help Brenda with her math and science; afterward, as you are leaving, you draw Brenda apart to suggest that maybe next time you get together it could just be the two of you. She flushes but grins and says that would be nice. Finally I'll get to touch her tits, you promise yourself as you leave, and that night you relieve yourself by thinking of the tittie-fuck you'll be getting soon.

* * * * *

The next morning, at practice, Seth confirms that he is planning to work Richards and the others for an extra forty-five minutes every day in the gym. You coolly suggest that he doesn't want to exhaust them, and that he schedule four hour-long practices on the weekend instead: two in the mornings and two in the afternoons. You also give him permission to use the loft that night (Thursday) for his date with Kendra.

The rest of the day feels like it is consumed with buzz about the upcoming cheerleader trials, which are announced during first period. It seems to be all that the girls in all your classes are talking about; and the guys talk about them too, though they seem more upset that the trials will be held privately instead of being open to the student body as they were at the start of the semester.

Of course, you've been giving thought as well to the trials, because Chelsea is planning to get masks of some (if not all) of the candidates, for sex play. So in each class (and in between, making visits at lockers) you talk to and warmly encourage all the girls you'd like to fuck to try out. Chelsea says she's not just looking for talent, you tell them. She says she's also looking for personality. You know, even if you're just barely good enough, if you got the personality you might get on. I think you got personality, you conclude your pitch. That last line alone is golden, never failing to elicit less than bright grin and a blush.

(Well, except in the case of Sydney McGlynn. When you cornered her at her locker between classes, she didn't even let you get more than eight words out. You just asked if she was going to try out for the squad, and she told you to go step on a very tall rake.)

You made sure to tell Chelsea what you told all these girls, and why you told it to them. Maybe she's feeling harried by the attention that she's been getting all day, but she asked in a haggard voice if you were trying to make too much work for her. You mollified her a little by volunteering to make all the necessary masks yourself. Still, she didn't seem upset when you said you'd have to leave school right after practice instead of hanging out with her in the loft, so as to get started on the mask for Seth.

* * * * *

"How'd things go with Kendra last night?"

It's Friday afternoon, and post-class practice has just broken up. You and Seth have the changing room to yourself, because you asked him to stick around. Javits looks nervous as he loiters next to your locker as you slowly dress out in fresh track pants and t-shirt, and brush and style your hair in the mirror that hangs inside your locker door.

What's he got to be nervous about? Kendra, and his date, which maybe didn't go so well? Or Richards's awful performance during practice, when he couldn't hit more than a quarter of his free-throw shots? You smile to yourself as you think of how ill Javits would be if he knew what was waiting for him upstairs.

"Oh, it was nice," he stammers. "Um, you were right. She's a screamer."

"You gonna see her again?"

"I dunno."

"You gonna see Cindy again?" You concentrate on the shoe you are tying. Only after you've got it and its twin tied do you pin Javits to the wall with a questioning look after the silence from him has grown awkward.

"No, I guess not," he says with a ragged sigh. But it sounds like you've dragged the answer out of him.

"Just talk to Kendra any time you need some ... 'relief'," you tell him, and clap a hand onto the back of the neck. (The better to steer him toward the door.) "She must'a had fun, she doesn't scream for just anyone. She never screamed for Lynch."

You feel Javits stiffen under your palm.

"And Chelsea'll make sure Kendra puts out for you, any time you want. The bitch is good for that, at least. And remember, what she did to you and Cindy is nothing to what she'll do if you two try getting together again. But at least she'll try giving you a carrot before fucking you with the stick. Kendra's one of her carrots."

Seth says nothing. You guide him around the corner and push him up the stairs.

"But you need more than a cum-bucket in your life, I can tell," you continue. "You need a girlfriend. Someone who'll love you up even when she doesn't put out. You got any ideas?"

Javits mumbles under his breath.

"Well, maybe I'll get some. I bet even Chelsea will have some ideas. That's another thing the little cunt is good for."

The "little cunt" is sitting on one of the crates, kicking her legs and smiling plumply as you enter. Gordon is standing next to her. As he steps forward with something blue in his hands, you grab Seth from behind. A moment later, as Gordon steps back, Seth sinks unconscious into your arms.

"You want him, Will?" Chelsea asks. "Or can I have him?"

Next: "Thoughts of the Boss Lady" 

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