CHAPTER ELEVEN

Michael was led by the hand into Sarah's bedroom, then she closed the door behind them, and started passionately kissing him. At least, that's probably what she intended to do, what she actually did was break a mirror, looked at Michael, and collapsed into his arms, making vague goldfish impressions with her mouth as she fell. A group of girls had gathered outside Sarah's door to witness her drunken stupor. Michael closed the door, and slid the bolt across. Looking back on this event he would realise that locking yourself in a bedroom with a girl bordering on unconsciousness wasn't the way to get a good reputation. At the time he actually believed himself to be helping by not letting the others see Sarah in her current state, but as has been pointed out before, boys aren't very bright. Girls, on the other hand, look at their social standing as a game of chess. They are all too aware that every move they make could change everything, and all the best players are several moves ahead. Often, the girl won't take the knight, for fear it will leave her socially worse off in the long run, while the boys will take the pawns, knights and bishops, and anything else they can come across without worrying about where it leaves them. While the female player wants to win the game at the end of the day, the male player wants to take as many pieces as he possibly can in the meantime. If he happens to come out on top at the end, all the better.

Sarah had gone completely limp in Michael's arms, and Michael carried her to her bed while she groaned. He lay her on her side, so that in the likely case of vomiting she'd only irreparably stain the carpets, instead of choking to death. Sarah bitterly thought that her stepmother would have probably preferred the choking option, but this of course was untrue. She had insurance for the carpets. Once she was in bed, Michael sat in a large, comfortable chair, and watched her.

"Are you okay?" he ventured.

"I feel fine", lied Sarah, then started wondering how exactly you were supposed to let a guy know you were interested in entering into sexual activities with them. "Wanna fuck?" she asked, satisfied with her choice.

Michael sprayed orange juice out of his mouth in shock. This was all the more remarkable, given he wasn't drinking right now, and he certainly hadn't drank orange juice in days.

"What did you just say?" he asked, bemusedly wiping drops of orange juice from his trembling lips.

"I said", claimed Sarah, sitting up and struggling to unbutton her top, "will you fuck me?"

This was, of course, not what she said, but it was quite close.

"Why, why -- why would you, why wou --", he tried again. "Why? You barely know me?"

"God damn it, Michael, I'm not asking you to marry me, I want you to... y'know", she added as a final whisper, possibly because she had suddenly came across all shy, but more likely because she'd once read an article in a magazine claiming it to be sexy: "fuck me". The effect would have been closer to the desired one if she had been looking into Michael's eyes, instead of the wallpaper a foot away which she believed to be his eyes.

"I can't, you're drunk".

"What?!?" Anger flared inside her eyes, and she ripped her shirt away revealing her bra beneath. "Are you sure?" she cooed, and smiled. Well, gurgled and looked ready to throw up, but at least she was making the effort.

"Yes, it's not right. Sex should be about... feelings, emotions, not about getting drunk at parties", Michael preached, with all the passion of your average 14-year-old who believes he's already solved all the mysteries of the world.

Sarah was moved. Most girls believe themselves to be good judges of character, which is laughable really, because boys have lied so much, and with such conviction, that even they themselves have to stop and think whether what they just said was true or not. Most guys have learned how to trick women into thinking they're decent guys, and getting much sex in return. Truth be told there's no such thing as a decent guy, the ones who don't trick women this way are the ones who haven't learned how to yet. Sarah was genuinely moved by this outburst of emotion, as it was exactly the sort of thing she would have said, but not so eloquently. However, all this deep emotional moving was doing to her was increasing her sexual appetite. The conclusion her drunken logic came up with was:

"If you don't do this, I'll only get someone else. Then you won't benefit any. And I'll be getting... someone else, when I could be getting this really great guy. I really want to do this with you, Michael". For the full effect, read this passage out loud, while standing on your head, slurring your speech as much as possible, and abandoning each word on the first or second syllable.

Somehow, Michael got the gist anyway. Here was a beautiful girl, telling him how great he was, and offering to do things with him that hadn't been offered before without the rub of a large amount of money changing hands. She really was beautiful, he noticed. Her hair smelled like strawberries. Well, actually it smelled like vodka and second-hand vomit, but it looked like it ought to have smelled like strawberries. Her eyes were, well, she needed to sleep for three days, wipe the crusts away, and look a lot less vacant, but he imagined if she fulfilled those criteria they'd start to look very beautiful. Her nose was so cute, and the excessive saliva dripping from her lips was, well, kinda disgusting, but her lips themselves were very pretty. And her breasts... they were so breast-like, which Michael considered a good quality in a breast. They were so much more three dimensional than the breasts he'd seen in the past. Not only was she beautiful, but she was such a lovely person. He hadn't known her that well, but he went to her school, and she'd always seemed such a nice person. Helping people rehearse from dramas she wasn't even appearing in, she had such a passion for it all. She could be immature and brattish sometimes, but still, a lovely person. But then he pictured himself years down the line, snuggled up with the girl of his dreams, and as she asks him: "So... will this be your first time?", and he'd have to reply: "Well... no." He knew he'd like the girl of his dreams to be someone that had waited for him, and that would make him feel so special, and he longed to return that favour. Which brings us back to the present.

"I can't. It's not you." Michael immediately knew this was a mistake. It was the equivalent of meeting a girl for a date, and saying "Hey, you do not look fat", without her having said anything to the contrary.

"Fine", Sarah sullenly replied, and attempted to get up. After several failures she finally found the floor, then headed for the wall, then another wall, then the third wall. Then finally the door. She cut two of her fingers on the bolt, then finally got it open, and stumbled back to the party outside. If she noticed that her shirt was still torn in half on the bed, she certainly didn't care.

CHAPTER TWELVE

Toby stood in his cot, wide-eyed. The house was running dangerously short of places for people to be alone together. As such, Toby was currently being corrupted by witnessing his first blowjob. The scene would be significantly less disturbing, if the guy in the scenario hadn't been staring at Toby and blowing kisses. The girl in the scenario would have probably said something, but her mum had taught her not to speak with her mouth full, and her dad had taught her to damn well finish a blowjob before taking her mouth away.

TO BE CONTINUED...

I hope that I can say the things I wish I'd said.