Chapter Six
During the next week they continued by unspoken agreement to pretend at school that they didn't know each other. She loved having their times together be completely separate from the 'real' world; a private Narnia they could visit where everything was different, and magic could happen.
Another agreement they made without even realizing it was to take things more lightly for a while. On afternoons when he didn't have other commitments, such as the yearbook committee, he took to waiting for her around the first turn she made on her way home. She would find him sitting under a tree there, and she would get off her bike and he would walk her as far as her driveway, and then a little way in from the road. There she would put down her bike's kickstand, and they would hold each other and kiss and press themselves against each other for a few minutes, but that was all.
What Peter didn't realize was that what he probably thought of as 'taking it easy', Jane thought of as 'getting him off guard'. So when she told him about her parents' Saturday-night meetings (he had been lucky that first time) and invited him over, she figured that he was probably expecting nothing more than a little snuggle and smooch, maybe with some light groping thrown in.
His first intimation that maybe the evening was going to proceed a little differently than he had imagined was when he walked up the porch steps, shortly after her parents' car had vanished down the drive, and found the front door swinging slowly open before he could knock...with nobody waiting inside.
He stuck his head in, called softly--"Jane?"--advanced a few more steps, called again, a little more loudly...and realized, actually an instant
before
he heard the door swinging shut behind him, that he had fallen for the oldest trick in the book.
Which, as it turned out, he didn't mind very much--or, to be honest, even remember what he'd been thinking about an instant before--when he had whirled around to find her closing the door by leaning against it, arms crossed, and wearing only a pair of frilly pink panties. And an expression of pure mischief.
He had barely enough time to register this surprise when she gave him another by jumping up and throwing her arms around his neck while simultaneously swinging her legs off the ground so he would have to catch her in his arms. When he had done so, and was staring down, open-mouthed, at what he had caught, she kissed him greedily, slipping her tongue into his mouth for a moment.
When she withdrew, leaving him wide-eyed and gasping, she leaned towards his ear and whispered, "My bedroom's at the top of the stairs on the right."
Said the spider to the fly
, she thought to herself. And then lay her head on his shoulder and closed her eyes as if going to sleep.
When they were in the dimly lit bedroom and he had gently lowered her onto her bed, she slowly opened her eyes like Sleeping Beauty, stretched provocatively, arching her back and then running her hands down her thighs, and said, "That was so nice. I think you deserve another kiss."
She reached up and took his hands in hers and slowly drew him down to lie beside her. Gently rolled him onto his back then climbed on top of him and straddled his chest. She took one of his wrists in each hand and slowly stretched his arms over his head as she leaned down to kiss him, running her hands up and down his arms.
Then she slipped the loop of nylon, which she had fashioned earlier out of her much-despised pantyhose then fastened to the headboard and hidden behind the pillow, over his hands and quickly tightened it around his wrists.
Quickly she jumped off the bed and snared each of his ankles in similar loops hidden at the foot of the bed...leaving him spread-eagled, helpless and speechless with astonishment.
When she was satisfied that he was securely tied, she once again straddled his chest, looking down into his stupefied face. She leaned down close to him, sliding her hands under the pillow beneath his head as if embracing him. She smiled teasingly, and said, "Why, Peter, I don't believe you've said one word to me since you got here. Aren't you even going to say hello?"
And when at last he opened his mouth to say something--
not
'Hello', was her guess--she had swiftly withdrawn her hands from under the pillow and stuffed into his mouth a pair of her oldest, rottenest, most stained and otherwise disreputable panties, which she had hidden there. Which, moreover, she had taken the precaution of wearing day and night all that week.
His response, although certainly energetic and possibly eloquent, was in fact indecipherable.
She waited for him to finish--or give up, it was hard to tell--and said, "Why, Peter, I thought you
liked
panties. You certainly seemed to like those other ones of mine. Do you like these?" She rose to her knees and struck his favorite pose, rolling her hips sinuously back and forth so that they almost touched his face, and giving him a good look at her small--but nicely shaped, she thought--naked breasts.
And now she saw in his eyes a hint of a smile: an appreciative look that said, 'Okay, I get it, this is a payback'. And he managed to nod.
But she was far from done with him. She said, "I thought you might. They look really nice from behind, too." and, reversing herself, leaned her elbows down to the bed on either side of his pelvis, putting her frill-covered behind in near communion with his nose. She waved it lazily back and forth in front of him, saying, "Do you still think I have a cute little ass?"
Then: "Peter, I can't understand a word you're saying."
From her current position she could hardly help noticing that he had become aroused. No surprise there.
She said, "Peter, you really should learn how to iron your clothes...there's a big lump right
here.
"--placing her hand on his zipper and moving it slowly up and down as if trying to smooth it out.
His response to this would have been understood in any language.
She opened his pants, unzipped them and pushed them down onto his thighs, leaving his erection still trapped inside his white briefs.
"Darn!" she said. "It's still there. Maybe we need to apply more pressure."
And with that she had reversed herself again, now straddling his hips. She settled herself onto the bulging outline of his cock, drawing a predictable response. She smiled at him and said, "Why, Peter--you look all over-heated. Here..."
She pushed his t-shirt up to his shoulders, then pulled it over his head and up to his bound wrists. She allowed her fingers to trail sensuously back down his arms and onto his now exposed chest, running her fingertips through the curly hair there, then beginning to circle and lightly pinch his nipples as she began moving her hips slowly back and forth on top of him.
He had by now closed his eyes and was beginning to speak in a language that was familiar to her, the words of which were mostly spelled with the letter 'n'. For a moment, she too allowed herself to close her eyes and enjoy feeling him slide back and forth underneath her. She even began to answer him in the same language.
But she didn't allow herself to surrender completely, and when she sensed that he was close to climaxing she suddenly jumped off him and stood beside the bed. He stared at her in disbelief.
She said, "Well, Peter, if you're not going to even talk to me, I'll go find something else to do."
And she marched out of the room, to the accompaniment of a somewhat muffled scream.
She was actually gone only long enough to make a short visit to the bathroom. When she returned she was holding a jar of Vaseline. She sat down on the edge of the bed and rested a hand on the front of his briefs, giving the still-burgeoning erection beneath a short caress.
