BAM1
Shelley Jackson stalked down the hallway, her face set in a grimace. She shook strands of her short black hair out of her eyes, then glared at Spencer Tulliver as he chuckled. “What’s so fucking funny?”
“You,” he said. “Between your looks and your family, you could have any boy in the school, but you’re single and lonely.”
“Fuck you, Spence,” Shelley said as she fumbled her hair into a clumsy ponytail. “I don’t want to fuck a boyfriend, and I certainly don’t want to fuck you.”
“You don’t need to fuck a boyfriend,” Spencer poked her shoulder. “Just get a guy from the trailer park to eat you out when you want.”
“I don’t want a guy,” Shelley growled. “It’d be like you getting a blowjob from a boy. I. Don’t. Like. Guys. Got it?”
“Too bad for you.” Spencer said as they came into the cafeteria. A few of their fellow students cleared a space near the front of the line for them, and the two settled into line. They barely noted the cafeteria watching them furtively, it was simply how things were at Smokey Mountain High.
The tiny town of Cloudy Mountain, nestled high in the mountains, had three parts that interacted at the High School. First were the mansions of Uptown, clustered around the upscale, exclusive ski lodge. These were rich families that lived year-round in Smokey Mountain, and both the Tullivers and the Jacksons lived in Uptown. Next was Midtown, along the road between the ski lodge and the highway, mostly middle-class families and businesses catering to the ski resort, along with the town market and stores for permanent residents. Along the freeway itself, where Main Road met with the highway, was Trailertown, which included a truck stop, bars and diners catering to passing truckers, and the trailer park where the poorest residents of Cloudy Mountain lived.
A blonde girl in a tank top and denim miniskirt came up to Spencer and kissed his cheek. He slipped an arm around her and fondled her breast in front of the entire cafeteria. Shelley grabbed a packaged meal and stalked out of the cafeteria without a backward glance. She let her eyes roam over the passing girls, most of whom shied away from her. She let her eyes linger on the tits and legs of the girls who passed, and not their eyes, which would not meet hers. Being a dyke isn’t contagious, she wanted to scream at them. But the words stuck in her throat, even as her pussy moistened in her panties at all the young, healthy female flesh on display.
She rounded a building and came to the sunny, grassy lawn behind the Language building, where the other Uptown kids sat with their dolls.
Dolls were a fact of life among Uptown kids. Uptown kids usually had near-unlimited allowances, plenty to spend on gifts and dates for pretty girls and boys from Midtown and Trailertown. The gifts weren’t free though – the ‘doll’ had to be the best of girlfriends, and do whatever their Uptown ‘owner’ wanted. Most of the ‘dolls’ were girls, but here and there an exceptionally cute boy hung on the arm of an Uptown girl. This early in the school year, the littls quad was ringed with Midtown and Trailertown kids, hoping to catch the eye of an Uptown kid and move up the social ladder.
One of the Midtown boys tried to make eye contact with Shelley, but she flipped a middle finger at him. No need to be hostile, hot stuff,” said John Jacobs from across the circle. His doll Amelia kneeled next to him with her hands on her knees under her miniskirt, her long red hair framing her face and converging on her cleavage. She seemd to be trying to hold her head still to keep her hairstyle in place.
“I’ll be hostile to whoever I want, thank you,” Shelley grumbled and sat, opening her meal and taking a bit of her pizza slice. She noticed that Amelia had no meal in front of her knees. John wants to keep his plaything all neat and thin, she thought.
Raised voices from the edge of the circle jerked Shelley’s attention away from John. A few Midtown girls were throwing rocks at another girl, whose torn and out-of-style top and ragged shorts marked her as a resident of Trailertown. Her long brown hair flew out behind her as she ran away from the circle, her flip-flops slapping against concrete. “Who the hell was that?” Shelley asked.
“She’s-” Amelia started to say, then stopped, glancing at John through lowered eyelashes.
“Go ahead, Amelia,” John said, patting her knee.
“She’s a new freshman,” Amelia said, not making eye contact with Shelley. “Tara McCreedy. From Trailertown. She got in trouble last year for making deals down at the middle school.”
“Deals? Drugs?” Shelley asked.
“Dates,” Amelia said and flushed. “She charged boys money to kiss her. And money for dates with her.”
“A hooker, good God,” John said, and shook his head. He slipped a hand around Amelia’s waist and slipped a finger up under the hem of her miniskirt. “Now there’s an idea for you, Shelley, go take the hooker for a ride.”
“You’d probably get herpes,” Shelley’s brother Mark said from the other side of the circle. “You dykes can’t use condoms, can you?”
“Fuck off, Mark,” Shelley said. But she made a note to find the girl later.
###
Shelley paced down the access alley behind the gym, averting her eyes from a couple making out in a doorway. She’d searched half the makeout spots in the school, and hadn’t found the McCreedy girl.
In the last doorway along the road, she caught a glimpse of brown hair. Aha, I found you. Tara’s eyes met Shelley’s, then the younger girl was started walking away down the fire road. Shelley ranthe last few feet and grabbed Tara’s shoulder, spinning her around. Shelley grabbed Tara’s elbow and pulled her back into the doorway. “You make deals, don’t you?”
Tara, her brown hair half in her face, nodded. “How much?” Shelley asked. She noticed that Tara’s breasts were bigger than hers, a C-cup at least, and generously bared by her tank top. Her legs were short and stocky leading up to wide hips, a narrow waist, those firm round tits, and a pleasant but plain face. The long brown hair framed large baby-blue eyes, a snub nose, and full lips. Clean hands with short red-painted nails were clasped in front of her stomach.
“W-what?” Tara’s voice was soft and sweet.
“I’m a lesbian.” After three years out of the closet, Shelley found the words coming out easily to this trailer-trash slut. “Carpet muncher. Muff diver. Bull dyke. And there’s no other girls like me here. So I’m horny. All. The. Time. How much?”
Tara stared at her, then blinked and took a sharp breath. “Dollar for a kiss, two for tongue. Five to grab my tits, ten for a five-minute makeout or a handjob, twenty for a blowjob. Fifty to fuck till you come, and a hundred for a date. You pay my way, but I do whatever you want until two AM, and then I go home.”
The dirty words, in that sweet, quiet voice, drove a rush of warm wetness to Shelley’s pussy. She grabbed Tara’s shoulders and pushed her against the wall. Before Tara could protest, Shelley pressed her lips to the younger girl’s.
Tara struggled briefly, then gave in and started kissing Shelley back. Her mouth was sweet and tart, tinged with the fruity flavor of her chapstick. Shelley slid her hands up Tara’s stomach to those magnificent tits. Again, Tara made a noise of protest, but accepted the grope. Her hands settled on Shelley’s waist, and Shelley bucked her hips in lust and anger. It had been years since she was with a girl, and here she was, making out with a lower-class hooker. The anger only made her pussy wetter, and she took a hand off Tara’s tit and unbuttoned her jeans. She grabbed one of Tara’s hands and shoved it into her pants, just above her soaked panties.
Tara pulled away, her eyes wide. “Hey, you gotta pay-“
“I will, now just finger my pussy!”
“I’ve never -” Tara started to say, but her mouth was muffled by Shelley’s. Tara’s fingers jerked against Shelley’s pussy, clumsily stroking the wet lips. Shelley moaned into Tara’s mouth and bucked her hips, trying to get Tara’s fingers inside her. First one, then two fingers slid into Shelley’s slit, and she felt her pussy tighten on the fingers as waves of pleasure wept through her.
The pleasure swept from her pussy through her whole body, and Shelley grit her teeth and muffled her screaming as she came. She released Tara’s wrist and let the other girl withdraw her hand from her pants. Shelley felt her knees go weak and leaned back against the other side of the doorway. “Keep the change.” She fumbled with her purse, drew out two twenties, and slid them into Tara’s cleavage. “I want a date. When’s your next night?”
“Tonight.” Tara pulled the cash from her shirt and slid it into the backpack at her feet. Shelley noticed that the hand that had been in her pants was clenched into a fist over her stomach. “After seven or so.”
“I’ll pick you up at eight.” Shelley said, brushing a strand out of Tara’s eyes. “Wear a dress. Look pretty, not slutty, if you can. Only a little makeup. And trim or shave your pussy for me.”
Tara nodded. “I live down in the trailer park. Pick me up out front.”
“I’ll see you then,” Shelley said, kissed Tara on the cheek, then walked away.
To Be Continued…