Throwing Joan to the Wolf

I was speechless. So it was still possible for men to disappoint me; that was good to know. Turning back to the futon, I went for my purse. We were walking out.

“No, I'm sorry, Joanie, but no. I can't BELIEVE I ever let you SPEAK to me, let alone touch me!” Molly said. Also the wrong thing to say. Tonight was turning into a long line of mistakes, but they weren't going to be our problem anymore.

I tucked my purse under my arm and went to Joan's side, putting my hands on her shoulders. “Honey, get your things, if you have any. No one is going to drown. Bean Hall is not going to flood! We're going to walk out of here and never talk to these people again. These are not your friends. We are, and we're telling you you don't have to do anything you don't want to.”

Shock of shocks–Joan shrugged my hands away. “I'm not a baby,” she said. “I said I'd do it!” Then, looking at Molly, adjusting her glasses to try and fail to look grown-up, she scrunched up her face. “I want to do it.”

I heard the sound of a belt buckle jangling behind me. Boy, you work fast, I thought, feeling resigned. "You're a sick fuck, Paul," I said. "I'm not going to forget about this."

I didn't recognize the person who glared back at me. Most times, Paul could barely make eye contact, much less stare daggers at me. This was the real him, I told myself. All that anxiety was just an attempt to cover up what he was like under the skin. "Yeah, whatever," he mumbled. I could almost hear all the more 'pointed' things he wanted to say, but he must have known not to press his luck. He fumbled with his sweatpants as the rain washed against the window. Nobody spoke. Even Jack had gone quiet, and I could see him watching too, like he couldn't quite believe what was happening either. Paul dropped his pants and underwear at once. His erection stuck out from his body, pale and veiny. I looked away immediately, focusing on the wall behind him. But I couldn't block out the sounds. Paul stepped up to where Joan was sitting. "Grab it," he said.

I **** myself to check on Joan. She had her hand wrapped around him already. Slowly, it started to move. If anyone had doubted she was a true-blue virgin, they wouldn't anymore. Her arm was as stiff as a board. There was a slight fog over the lenses of her glasses, making it harder to see her eyes. She pumped her hand up and down, her wrist twisting at an awkward angle. "Like this?" she asked, halfway eager and halfway disgusted.

Paul made a noise. Yes, clearly. His head tilted back, and his hands rested on Joan's shoulder. She flinched and then continued.

Molly dug her nails into my skin. "We should stop this," she whispered.

I bit my lip. If Joan hadn't fought me off a second ago I would've dragged her out of there. What was the point? She was allowed to make her own bad decisions. "She said she wants to," I said.

"She doesn't know what she wants. Look at her."

I looked. Joan's expression hadn't changed. She stared straight ahead at Paul's stomach, at the hem of his hoodie where it rode up. Her hand kept moving. Paul's breathing was labored. Now and then he grunted out an unfinished sentence. "Shit, that's good," he mumbled. The others were watching too; Lea and Jack and Harry, though at least he looked conflicted. It was just me and Molly that were the buzz killers.

"Take off your shirt, I'll cum faster," Paul grunted.