Feeling exposed

It’s almost sundown when I finally get home. I’d kind of hoped my panties would dry out if I waited long enough, but I had so thoroughly soaked them that they were still uncomfortably damp hours later, and I knew the smell was noticeable. I leaned my bike against the wall of the house next to where my Dad’s work van was parked and quietly opened the front door, hoping to escape to my room unnoticed. Usually my Dad can tell when I want to be left alone.

Usually.

“Cass! Please, come here, I’d like to speak with you.” He’s sitting at the kitchen table, nursing a lager and a cigarette by the open window. “It’s about this morning.”

I wince, swaying on my feet in the front hallway, torn between running away to my room and walking up to him. I know he struggles with shit like this, and I do want to hear him out, but I just can’t bear to be near him in the state I’m in. I would actually die of embarrassment if he caught a whiff of me right now. “Um, Dad, not now…”

He grimaces and looks out the window, running a hand over his bald spot. “I know I messed up this morning, with the conversation, about… listen, I know you’re disappointed, okay?” He leans towards me, then back in his chair. “I just, I’m worried about how you’re going… what you’ll be able to… shit. Shit. Sati would know what to say here. She’s the one who wanted a kid.”

What the fuck, Dad? Really? Right now? “Hey, Dad, I’m sorry, I…”

“I promised her, Cass. Okay? I promised her I’d raise a child right, just like she would have. That’s all I’m trying to do. If I mess that up, if I can’t even help you become a functioning adult, it’s like I’m letting her down all over again.”

Dad, I already have two dead parents I don’t remember. How many times do I have to tell you I don’t need a third? “I need to take a shower.”

He just stares at the table and takes a swig of his beer as I turn and walk away. Fuck. I hate doing that to him. I know he’s doing his best. But sometimes his best sucks. And right now I have my own shit to deal with.

Like my dreams.

I have the Dark dream again, but it’s different this time. There’s no sound of rushing water, no scrape of metal against rock, no sudden sharp pain of being dragged by my hair. Just the Dark, and then, hands. Two big, strong hands, touching my shoulders, face, arms, and now they’re holding me. Holding me down. Pressing me against the hard unyielding earth. I try to get away, try to escape these strong hands but there’s no hope. I can barely move, and that feeling is stoking a heat inside. So hot. I rub my legs together, **** to quench this fire, and then I feel it. Smell it. His breath on my face. His lips are right there and I’m opening my mouth and reaching for them and then I’m awake.

What the fuck was that?

That dream stays with me all morning. It’s in my head as I share an awkward silent breakfast with my Dad. It’s there as I’m biking to school, feeding the dread that grows stronger as I get closer to where he is. It’s buzzing in my brain as I lock up my bike and realize I’m in for another day of whatever Derek wants to do to me.

Is he going to kiss me again? Is he going to do more?

I see him out in front of school as I walk to the door, and there’s someone with him. There’s always people with him, of course, but his arm is draped casually over her shoulder. I recognize her instantly, Mina the cheer captain, her long black hair framing her beautiful face. She sees me, and smiles, her dark brown eyes twinkling as she runs a possessive hand across Derek’s broad chest. He doesn’t even look my way.

A jagged dagger of ice plunges through my chest down to my stomach. What is this feeling? Why the fuck do I care? Derek is dating a different girl every week, why am I pressed about him hooking up with a cheerleader? This means he’s gonna leave me alone, right? I try to focus on that, focus on the thought of being free of him, but I still feel my guts churning and a cold vice pressing against my chest, making it hard to breathe.

He does leave me alone, at least, but nobody else does. Not a lot happens at our school, so Derek stealing a kiss from the shy friendless girl is just about the hottest gossip of the year. The girls ask me how it was, some with a hint of jealousy. The boys ask when it’s their turn, am I on the market now, they’re all much better kissers than Derek. All of them, boys and girls alike, call me a slut.

I don’t know what to do. I don’t know how to feel. I was comfortable being ignored. Being invisible. Now there’s a giant spotlight on me everywhere I go. I’ve never felt so exposed. Throughout the day I think about just ditching, running away. But I know I’ll have to come back eventually, and running away would just make it worse.

Maybe it’ll all blow over. Maybe Mina will hold his attention and the other students will find something new to fixate on and I can fade into the background again. That’s what I tell myself as I sit in art class at the end of the day, absorbed in my work. Derek had skipped, and for some reason that was bothering me. I try to lose myself in the art, arranging these broken pieces of ceramic into some kind of pattern, some kind of shape that will mean something, and I’m startled by someone gently calling my name.

“Hey Cass.” It’s Mr. Berenger, holding his coat and standing by the door. He’s the only other person in the room. I hadn’t even noticed the bell. “Do you need a little more time to work today?”

“I, uh…” I take a shaky breath, still reeling from my return to reality. “Yeah, yeah that would be nice. If that’s ok?”

My teacher smiles at me. “Well, I’m not supposed to let students stay in here alone, but I need to pick up my cat from the vet. Tell you what, just be out of here before the janitor comes to lock up at 5, or else I’ll get in big trouble.” He gives me a wink. “Can’t wait to see what you come up with.”

I take another breath after he leaves and try to return to what I was doing. This isn’t the first time Mr. Berenger has let me use his classroom alone, and I love him for it every time. The art class is in a corner of the building and on the opposite side from the athletic fields, so I don’t have to listen to the bustle of students in the hallway or the commotion of athletes outside the window. For the first time all day, I feel like I can relax and let go.

I’m just about to get back in the zone when I hear the door open again. Did Mr. Berenger forget something? I look up and my breath freezes in my chest as I see him. Derek. He’s already halfway across the room and in another blink he’s right next to me, pulling a chair over and sitting right in front of me.

He smiles at me, that same sharp smile he gave me right before he stole my first kiss. “Doesn’t feel good, does it?”

I remember to breathe, just enough to answer him. “What doesn’t…”

“Being ignored.” He leans close to me. Too close. “It doesn’t feel good. Does it?”

What is he talking about? All I want is to be ignored. But he’s right. That icy dagger from this morning is still lodged in my chest. It felt awful being ignored by him. All day long as the other students harassed and humiliated me, there was a small quiet voice inside that wished it were him instead. I can’t put any of that into words. All I can do is give him a small shake of my head, not quite believing what I’m doing.

His smile is back. “Well here I am, and I’m not ignoring you now. In fact, I want to see you even better.”

With that, he reaches out, grabs the bottom of my sweatshirt, and pulls up, bringing my tshirt with it, exposing my soft belly and his fingers are tracing against my skin and they’re hooking under my bra and now I’m fully exposed to him. I let out a soft sharp gasp, my hands frozen by my sides, my brown nipples hardening. Oh god I’ve never felt them get hard like this.

His eyes are drinking in the sight. “Hold your shirt up for me.” He doesn’t wait for a response before letting go, and somehow my hands move, like they’re being pulled by a marionette string, up up up and they’re gripping the bunched fabric beneath my chin so he can see them see my breasts oh fuck. “That’s good. I like that.”

He reaches his hands out, covering my chest, squeezing and lifting my soft flesh. The rough skin of his palms is like fire against me, I can’t help but let out a soft moan as he feels what no one else ever has, makes me feel what I’ve never felt before.

“I’ve been thinking about you a lot since that kiss.” His voice is quiet, forceful, full of dangerous intent. “Thinking about what other firsts I can take from you. I just had to see for myself what you were hiding under that sweatshirt. What do you think? You like getting felt up?”

My body is trembling and my cheeks are glowing. I can’t speak. My lips press together but can’t hold back the sharp whine coming from high in my chest. This feeling is too much, I can’t bear it another moment.

Derek pauses and his green eyes flash at me. “Hey, I asked you a question!” Just like that his hands are off my chest and then he catches both of my straining nipples between a thumb and forefinger, giving each a savage pinch.

“nnnNNAAAHH!” I can’t help it, my voice leaps out of my chest. Oh fuck it hurts so much but there’s more. That throbbing that hunger in my crotch is back, the pain from my nipples sending bright jolts down my body between my legs.

“Well, what is it, Cassie? Do you like being felt up? Or do you like THIS?”

He pinches harder, too hard. I grit my teeth and shriek, completely overwhelmed and doing nothing to stop it. My body is still in the chair, my hands are still holding my shirt up to expose myself to him, my eyes are still fixed on his.

“Better speak up, Cassie! Do you like it or not?” He twists.

“YES!” Too much it’s too much the pain the sensation the feelings deep inside it’s all too much. “Yes I like it!”

He relents, releasing some of the pressure but now instead of pinching he’s teasing, rubbing and rolling my throbbing nipples between his fingers. “That wasn’t so hard now, was it?”

My legs are squeezing together. I’m sucking in breaths trying to focus, trying to resist this new feeling but I can’t. Holy shit the things his fingers are doing to me, a maelstrom of sensation too big to contain all focused on two points on my chest. I can’t find words anymore, not a single coherent thought in my head just a dance of fading pain and soaring pleasure. I moan, low and loud, the sound of it utterly alien to my ears.

Derek chuckles. “So you want me to keep doing this kind of thing? You like it when I touch you?”

Do I? Do I want more? I thought I did yesterday when I was lost in a haze of self-pleasure, and now he’s making me want it again. I don’t. I don’t want it of course I don’t want it I hate this so much and I’m nodding my head.

“Say it, Cassie. If you want me to keep doing this say the words. Tell me you want it.”

He flicks his thumbnails across the tips of my nipples and I open my mouth. Another moan spills out and then the words find my voice. “Yes. Yes please yes I want it please touch me.”

His hands spread out over my breasts again, gripping them so strong and sweet his thumbs making small firm circles on my nipples, making me melt into his touch. His face leans close to mine. So close. “You want me to kiss you again?”

I feel his words as his breath touches my lips. My eyes close and my mouth opens for him. A whisper from deep in my throat answers him. “Yes.” I can feel him he’s so close his lips are right there I’m ready for him ready for him to take me.

His hands are gone and I hear a tap. My eyes open and I see his phone, half concealing his grinning face. “What a beautiful sight.” He turns his phone so I can see the picture, the picture of a girl exposing herself, eyes closed, face flushed, mouth open expectantly. It doesn’t look anything like me. It is undeniably me. “Can’t wait to see even more.”

It takes me a moment after he leaves before I can pull myself together, cover myself again, come to my senses. I didn’t mean it. I couldn’t have meant it. I only said those things because of what he was doing to me, the way he was touching me, putting me entirely out of my mind. I repeat it over and over to myself. He made me do it. That wasn’t me. I didn’t actually want it.

And then my hand finds its way up to my face and I gently brush a finger against my lips, like his breath brushed against them moments ago, and my body says “liar”.