Friday October 24, central Miami
Britany eased back into the leather of Scott's Cabriolet. It was humid, of course it was humid, even in late October, and she wanted to feel the wind in her hair. No such luck. They'd tried to leave the campus early, ahead of the rush, but it was Friday and the traffic had been bad. Coral Gables to the beach in State Park should have been thirty minutes; twenty with how Scott drove, but it had been forty already and they were still in downtown.
Yawning, Britany pushed a button and moved her seat back.
"Ow!"
She turned and saw a rather unhappy looking Aleja, trying to sit sideways across the two, tiny rear seats. "Sorry, babe. Forgot you were back there."
Aleja half smiled, half grimaced. "It's OK."
"Well, at least you are small, girl." Britany turned toward Scott. "Can't you, like, take a back road, or something?"
Scott revved the engine, clearly frustrated, but said nothing. Britany decided that silence was golden. It was cool having a boyfriend with a Porsche, but he also had a temper.
She looked at the sunlight playing on her jade ring, and how internal reflection in the pyroxene matrix made the stone appear almostr luminescent. Her mother's face swam into her mind briefly. The image was less than welcome, and Britany felt the anger rising; why was she taken so soon? Leaving just this memento for her only child.
Suppressing unwanted emotions, Britany tried to focus on other things. She moved her seat further back, ignoring the suppressed grunt from behind her, and stretching her long legs as she smiled to herself. There, that was better.
Anyway, it was only reasonable. Scott was
her
boyfriend, so it was pretty much
her
car. Stupid Cuban should be grateful she had a ride. And grateful that Britany was letting the bitch into a circle that should, by rights, be far beyond her social status. Particularly when transferring late to the program. She'd just appeared one day, it was strange. No one knew her, and she was - frankly - kinda weird as well. Yeah, bitch should be grateful that Britany had taken her under her wing.
Finally, the traffic started to move. That was better. Britany stretched her arms up and let the breeze cool her hands.
-- -- --
Aleja tried not to let Britany get to her. She had other things to think about. The beach that they were heading for appeared in the distance and to her left, a gleaming sliver highlighted by the low sun. Bathed in orange rays, a single house stood on the horizon, abandoned by the looks of it. And old, really old. Aleja leaned forward and spoke loudly above the rushing air. "What's that? I thought that this was a state park."
Britany shrugged and ignored the question. It seemed she felt it beneath her to know such things. But Scott spoke for the first time in many minutes. "My Dad told me it predates the park. Used to belong to the family who gifted the land. It's derelict. There was some plan to turn it into a visitor center, but they ran out of money. Stupid socialist BS if you ask me."
Having imparted this information, he wrenched the steering wheel left and, with an angry squeal of tires, they headed directly to their destination. Scott lurched to a halt in the lot next to a red BMW roadster. Aleja didn't recognize the car, but assumed it was probably Brian's. Brian and Scott were both Sigma Phi Epsilon, and Brian's girlfriend, Alessia, was Britany's roommate. The four were basically interchangeable. Attractive in an imperious kind of way, and with the casual arrogance that only comes from never having had a thing they wanted denied to them.
Aleja felt a low level disgust in their company. They were so not her people. Then maybe they could help her, she could do with help, and beggars couldn't be choosers. Aleja buried any negative feelings and smiled as she extracted herself from the back of the Porsche. As she clambered out, it was hard to ignore Scott's eyes on her. Something that didn't seem lost on Britany, who thumped her boyfriend's arm.
The blow seemed to not affect Scott at all, who simply smiled in a slightly lopsided way at the smaller girl. In truth Britany was a more striking figure. Legs that went on forever, a Sports Illustrated figure, and a face that could have been beautiful if not so often pulled into a dismissive frown. Maybe in response, Britany pulled her T off, dropped her short shorts, and ran to the shore. Her bikini was of the minimalist variety and Scott seemed at least momentarily distracted by the pneumatic display of Britany's ass wobbling as she sprinted.
But then he turned back to Aleja."Not a shy one are you?" His smile had morphed into an unembarrassed leer.
Aleja was a little nauseated, but decided to play along. She too shed her T, but retained her boardshorts, at least for now. "Nice," said Scott in a tone suggesting he was accustomed to having his advances reciprocated as a matter of course.
Aleja, feeling uncomfortable, decided to go for distraction. "Let's go find Brian and Alessia." Scott nodded and, with Aleja feeling rather relieved, they walked in the direction that Britany had just taken.
-- -- --
The beach sand was still warm and the air balmy. Afternoon rain hadn't reduced the humidity, it seldom did. Britany waved to Brian and Alessia, who had spread a blanket and cracked a beer each already. The park was meant to be alcohol free, but such ordinances were just for the little people. Alessia looked slightly flushed and Britany guessed that she and Brian had been making out.
Britany sat on the sand, supporting her upper body on her arms, and legs spread wide. "Looking good, Brit," Brian said, his eyes on her crotch.
Alessia placed a proprietorial kiss on her boyfriend's cheek, then shared his direction of gaze. "Sure are, girlfriend."
Britany wondered about her roommate. She did have a somewhat disconcerting habit of wandering around their place in underwear, or even nude. Britany idly wondered whether the purity pledge they had both made applied to other women.
Aware that her thoughts were having a physical effect, Britany closed her legs almost demurely. Her sapphic reverie was interrupted by Scott throwing their blanket down and demanding a beer, which Brian tossed to him. Clinking bottles, her boyfriend lay down on the blanket, his head on Britany's thighs.
Aleja crouched down awkwardly on a corner of the material, seemingly trying to occupy the minimum area possible. She looked every bit the outsider that she was. Britany critically appraised the new girl. Skinny, but with nice tits. Nothing compared to her own, of course, but kinda OK. Olive-accented skin, dark, curly hair, that constantly strayed across her face. An obviously Latin appearance, which was less in her favor, but with big, brown eyes that made Aleja look younger than the twenty years she claimed. Britany could see what Scott saw, but, at the end of the day, her kind were only really good for one thing.
The young Cuban girl shifted uncomfortably and looked back over her shoulder at the old house. When she spoke, traces of Havana were still etched into her voice. "It's kinda creepy, right? Makes you feel like someone is watching you... or something."
Brian guffawed. "Yeah, probably an old dude with a telescope and beating his meat looking at Alessia."
Alessia pouted, but seemed pleased by her boyfriend's words. "Let's give the perv a show, shall we?"
With that, she pulled her bikini top down, nestling the fabric under her breasts. She stood and shook her torso at the building, her tits wobbling alarmingly. "Hey, pervert. Want some of these?"
Britany spoke with faux shock. "Really, Alessia. You've got to get this exhibitionist streak under control."
Aleja thought that she maybe saw something else in how Britany was looking at her topless friend. Then Scott interjected. "You jealous, Brit?"
Smiling in a kinda unpleasant way, Britany also stood, undid her halter string, and mimicked her friends display. "If anyone is jealous, it's her."
Britany really did have great breasts, it had to be said. She turned to Aleja. "Your turn."
The Cuban girl shook her head, furiously blushing. Scott and Brian started clapping, while yelling, "Al-e-ja! Al-e-ja!"
Feeling flustered and confused, Aleja also stood and, as quickly as she could manage, flashed her breasts, rapidly pulling the garment back into place, her cheeks as pink as her bikini top.
The boys' chant changed to, "one of us, one of us," before they dissolved in laughter. Brian threw her a beer, which Aleja just managed to catch, before twisting the top off. Looking at the group, a small flame of defiance sprung up in her. She tipped her head back, and downed the bottle's contents in one go, a little of the amber fluid trickling out of each side of her mouth.
"Hey, great swallowing, bitch!" crowed Scott, earning him a kick from Britany.
Aleja was feeling a little buzzed, and both her mammary display, and chugging the beer, seemed to have gained her some sort of group approval. Maybe it would be easier to get to know them than she had thought.
Aleja went as far as ditching her board shorts, and sat down again in a more relaxed manner, closer to the others. Scott and Brian both grinned warmly at her. Maybe Britany and Alessia's smiles were a little more forced. Still, more beers were passed round, and the evening was pleasant enough, so long as Aleja filtered out the worst of the boys' verbal excesses, and the girls' cattiness.
But, inevitably, alcohol loosened inhibitions, and soon Aleja realized that she was a fifth wheel. She got up, a little unsteadily, the beers having gone to her head, and decided to go for a walk. Looking back, Scott's tongue was now deep inside Britany's mouth, while his girlfriend stroked the front of his shorts. Brian seemed to be biting Alessia's neck, one hand inside her bikini top squeezing. Yeah, time for a walk for sure.
-- -- --
The sun had set, but radiant, pink clouds in the west still illuminated the beach, together with a few elderly street lamps on a concrete boardwalk, set well back from the beach. One of these shone a palid glow onto the derelict walls and boarded-up windows of the old house. Some of the nailed planks hung loosely, revealing shattered glass behind, and it was not a stretch to imagine some figure within gazing out of the dark slots. Aleja shivered, despite the persistent heat. She wished that she had brought her T-shirt with her, and suddenly felt vulnerable in just her skimpy swimsuit.
Still, something about the crumbling edifice drew her. Looking back, the others - did she call them friends? - were just shadowy shapes. No one else was in sight. Turning back to the house, Aleja took a deep breath and strode purposefully forward.
There were rickety steps leading up to a porch spanning the entire frontage. Cans and shattered bottles were strewn around, and the wooden floor was singed in places where impromptu fires had clearly been struck. Stepping forward, hesitantly, the boards groaned under even Aleja's slight weight.
The heavy, wooden front door seemed in better shape than much of the building. 'Focus, girl, focus.' Aleja grasped the large, brass knob and tried to turn it, but it held firm. Stepping back, she surveyed the nearest windows, looking for an opening of some sort. Surely there was some way in.
"What are you doing?"
The words were whispered in her ear and Aleja couldn't stifle a scream. Spinning she saw Scott behind her, appearing drunk and swaying slightly.
He smiled blurily at her. "You wanna go in? No one goes in there. Don't you know it's haunted."
With the last word, Scott raised his hands and made a moaning noise.
"Cut it out, Scott, you scared me. Did you follow me? Does Britany know?"
