My Straight Best Friend

This is the third chapter in a story set among high school students in the year 2000, set in Ontario, Canada. All characters are over 18 and in their Grade 13, or 'OAC' year.

Thank you to my team of beta readers for their help in whipping what you're about to read into shape. In particular, thanks to RawSilhouette, SpotintheSand, Ravenna933, SomethingFar and AstroChris.

I awoke Saturday morning still wearing the same shit-eating grin I'd gone to bed with. I rolled over in bed to the morning sun peeking in through the gaps in my curtains, and I immediately sniffed my fingers, savouring the scent of pussy lingering on them for the first time ever. I got out of bed, barely able to believe that last night had happened, and then I somewhat reluctantly headed for the bathroom and washed Mia Tyler's scent off. Last night had been one of the best nights of my life.

Mia, who'd made it abundantly clear in the past that she wasn't interested in me as a boyfriend, had walked home from the school dance with me and showed me how to finger her to an orgasm in my basement, then she gave me the first handjob I'd ever had. It was hard to imagine handjobs came much better than what she'd given me.

I went downstairs to the smell of fresh coffee brewing, and I had a lovely pancake breakfast with my parents and my older sister Carly. I'd been a little worried about seeing my parents this morning given how loud Mia had gotten last night as I'd fingered her over the edge, but they'd clearly either slept through it or they were very good at pretending that nothing had happened. Carly, meanwhile, gave me a sly look as I sat down at the table, but I knew she had my back.

After breakfast and a shower, I went to my room with the cordless phone to call my best friend Eric.

"So what happened to you last night?" I asked after he'd picked up. "Was I right, or was I right about Ashley liking you?"

"You were right," he said happily. "She's my girlfriend now!"

"Oh, congratulations!" I said, somewhat jealously. Sure, I was gaining some welcome sexual experience, but I still felt like I was no closer to a relationship than I'd been a few months ago. "How did that happen?"

"I asked and she said yes," Eric said patiently, like he was speaking to a moron.

"Well, fine. I guess I walked into that one."

"What about you and Emma? Surely she's your girlfriend, too?"

"It was a good night, but we're not together," I sighed.

"Did you ask her out?"

"No."

"Why don't you? She obviously likes you."

I told Eric how I'd originally thought Emma was inviting me to the dance as a date, and not only had she said no, but I knew from her surprised reaction that she'd never even considered it. I guessed she didn't see me as boyfriend material.

"I guess," Eric finally said. "But if you want her as a girlfriend I still think it's worth asking. She seemed pretty into you when you had your hand on her boob last night."

"Agreed, but I'm just practice for her. I'm happy to keep doing it as long as she is, but I doubt it'll ever turn into anything more." Saying it out loud hit me hard, and I suddenly felt disappointment creeping into what had previously been a great mood. I really wanted a girlfriend, but three of the four girls had more or less told me right out they weren't interested in dating me now, and the fourth was Allie, whom I didn't see that way and who didn't see me that way, either.

"So what did you and Ashley get up to after the dance?" I asked, changing the subject.

"We walked back to her place. She has one of those big old houses with a huge covered porch, and we made out for a while longer on this day bed thing on her porch before splitting up."

"And you could tell she was into it?"

"Oh, fuck yes." I could almost hear the pride in Eric's voice through the phone. "Like, I know you told me a couple tricks to figure out if a girl is turned on, but I didn't even need them with Ashley. She wasn't shy about it at all. She was moaning, putting my hands all over her, trying to touch my butt and my dick a bunch through my jeans. Whatever it was like making out with Caitlin the mannequin, this was the exact opposite. Like I almost felt like I couldn't keep up with her."

"Dude, that's awesome. I'm so happy for you."

"What about you? Did anything else happen after we split up?"

I wasn't the kiss-and-tell type, but I told Eric a very brief version of what had happened the night before with Mia. When I finished, I could hear the awe in his voice.

"So you got to hook up with two of the hottest girls in school in back-to-back weekends, and that was after you made out with and felt up another one of the hottest girls in school an hour before that? And nobody's jealous? Some guys have all the luck."

"Yeah, but they only see me as practice," I interrupted. "I'd love an actual girlfriend like you now have. But none of the girls like me that way. It's just fooling around."

"Well, still. Teach me what Mia taught you about pussies. I only sort of touched Ashley down there through clothes last night a little bit, but if she's this much of a firecracker, I'm gonna need that knowledge real soon."

I ran through everything I'd learned the night before about how to find a girl's clit and g-spot and how to touch them, finishing with "although every girl is different. You should ask Ashley what she likes, and get her to show you how to touch her."

"I will," Eric promised, "but it's good not to be starting from zero. Thank you for that, and also thank you for telling me that Ashley liked me in the first place. I doubt if I'd ever have picked up on it."

"You're welcome."

We hung up shortly after, and I headed upstairs to shower and change. I was working a noon to 8 shift at the family's men's wear store today, and I had to get moving.

The rest of the weekend flew by without a peep from anyone, and before I knew it, it was Monday again and I was back at school. I'd wanted to talk to Allie, but she wasn't in history class today for some reason, and I wound up eating lunch with Eric before fifth-period English, continuing the interminable read-through of

Hamlet.

When class ended, Mia came over to my desk. I could immediately see in her eyes that something wasn't right.

"Are you okay?"

She shrugged. "Yeah, I guess."

"Do you want to walk and talk?"

"Okay," she said quietly. "But I've got work tonight, so I've got to go straight home to change and then get on the bus. I don't have a lot of time, but do you mind walking with me anyway?"

"Sure. I'd love to see where you live."

"Don't say that until you see it." She smiled, but I could sense insecurity below the surface. I'd never seen Mia vulnerable like this, and it startled me.

We went together to our lockers, packed up our stuff, and left the school. It was late October now, grey and overcast, and a bunch of the houses had Halloween decorations already up. It was still getting colder, and I was glad I'd brought a winter hat with me.

"Where do you work, anyway?" I asked once we were underway.

"Kelsey's restaurant. I'm a hostess."

"Surprising. I figured you had 'cool indie boutique shop girl' written all over you."

"Well, we've all gotta make a living."

We walked in silence for a bit as the cold north wind whipped around us. I was waiting to see if Mia would start on her own, but when she didn't, I finally spoke up.

"So, what's on your mind?"

Mia took a deep breath, exhaling visibly in the cold air. "First of all, thank you for Friday night."

"You're welcome. And thank you in return."

"I've had bad experiences in the past with guys developing crushes and falling in love with me, so I want to reiterate that I don't want to date you. It's nothing personal, and I think you know that, but it's worth saying again."

"Totally fair." I wasn't even disappointed. "You've made that clear in the past, and I'm not trying to date you, either. You've been nothing more than a good friend to me and a fantastic sex tutor."

"Good. You've been just as good a student. And that's what's bothering me."

"I don't follow you."

Mia looked over at me. Her pale cheeks were rosy in the cold air, and I thought she looked beautiful as her brown eyes sparkled in the late afternoon autumn grey. "You know the kind of culture we live in. There are constant jokes on late-night TV shows and sitcoms about how hard it is to pleasure a woman, or how impossible it is to find the clitoris. I never used to understand those jokes. As someone who owns one, I've never found mine particularly hard to find.

"I've always known my clit was there, and the first time I masturbated for real it didn't take me very long at all to cum, even though I didn't even really know what I was doing. Now that I've got loads of practice under my belt, I can get myself off just as fast as any guy can. But after three boyfriends all failed to get me even close to an orgasm, I think I really started to internalize and believe all that nonsense in the culture."

"Stay tuned for this special report on the clitoris, nature's Rubik's Cube," I deadpanned, quoting

Family Guy.

"Exactly. And then I gave you a try, for no reason at all other than that I was horny after the dance, I trusted you, and I knew you wanted to. You made me realize that it was all horseshit. All it took to get me off was finding a guy who actually wanted to. Not only did you pick up on the basics incredibly quickly, but you managed to do things to my pussy that even I can't do, what with my stubby, weak girl arms."

I laughed at that, but I recognized the compliment beneath the joke. "It was my pleasure, really."

"Thank you again. After leaving your house, I went home on Friday night and cried myself to sleep. I've wasted so much time and effort and love dating three horrible guys who never cared enough about me to want to make me feel good. They took me for granted. I was never anything more than a blowjob dispenser to Bryce."

"Aww, I'm so sorry," I interrupted, and I pulled her into a hug. She lay her head on my shoulder, sniffling slightly.

"Do you need to cry?" I asked.

"I can't cry in front of anyone," she responded sadly. "Plus, I think I cried enough this weekend to last me for a while." She pulled out of the hug and resumed walking.

"So you've learned from it?"

"I don't even know if I have. See, this is the problem. Justin, you're a lovely guy. You're smart and handsome and super nice and respectful and trustworthy. And despite this past weekend, I am just not attracted to you in that way. It's not your fault; it's mine. I wish I could talk myself into liking you like that. You're the kind of guy I know would be good for me. But my heart seems to be irreversibly attracted to bad boys who make my knees weak and my panties wet. And I'm sorry if that's hurt your feelings, because you're a great person, and you don't deserve my screwed-up libido."

"It hasn't," I said honestly. "I don't see you like that, either, since you've so aggressively made it clear from the beginning that you're not an option. Since I've never had a girlfriend, I'd probably date almost anyone who was willing that I was attracted to, but she's at least gotta want me back, and if you don't, then I don't want it from you. I'm incredibly grateful for your friendship and all you've done for me in the past six weeks or so, but to be honest, I've always been a little scared of you."

"Of me?!" Mia was visibly shocked. "What did I do?"

"You're so confident! You don't take shit from anyone, and you can be withering to anyone who annoys you. You stand up for yourself."

"I act like a guy," she interrupted me. "From a man, my behaviour wouldn't be anything unusual. But no one expects a teenage girl to push back at them. I get creepy old men trying to hit on me at work. I shut it down hard, sometimes in front of their families, and they're always so shocked. They act inappropriately with girls young enough to be their daughters, because they don't expect girls that young to call them out on their bullshit. Older women wouldn't stand for it, so why should I?"

"And I admire you for it. You're just also terrifying when you're indignant."

"Huh." Mia looked lost in thought. "I never thought about it like that. This is my building, do you want to come up?"

We had stopped in front of an apartment building in the housing complex known locally as 'Browntown', officially because the buildings were all 60's and 70's brown brick units, but also unofficially because the people living in them were mostly South Asian immigrant families.

"I didn't know you lived here," I said, surprised, as we walked into the lobby.

"Yep. All of Central's catchment area is older, middle and upper-middle class single family houses, except for this building. The rest of the complex goes to Ryerson High."

"Why just this building?"

"Who knows? All I know is that it sure makes you class-conscious, being one of the only working-class kids at a rich high school."

"Is Central rich? I always figured it was middle and upper middle class."

"My Mom is a cocktail waitress. Everyone seems rich when you're poor." She slapped the elevator button for the ninth floor.

I had no comeback to that, but I was suddenly starting to understand more of the facets of Mia's complex personality.

She may never be my girlfriend,

I thought,

but she clearly trusts me enough to let me see something about her that she's obviously tried to keep secret.

A minute or so of awkward silence later we were in the apartment Mia shared with her mother. It was a tiny, well lived-in space without being messy. The apartment consisted of a small kitchenette, a bedroom, a bathroom, and a living room with an unmade sofa bed pulled out of the couch.

"Welcome to my house," she said. "I've gotta shower and change for work, but since we're still talking and we don't have much time, you don't have to wait outside while I'm showering if you don't want to."

My jaw just about hit the floor. "Are you serious?"

"Can I trust you?"

"Of course you can."

"Then come on. It's nothing you haven't seen before."

Not in full daylight,

I thought, but I kept that one to myself.

Mia entered the bathroom, grabbing a shower cap and turning the water on. I followed her and closed the door, sitting on the toilet lid in the tiny space.

"So tell me," she asked as she started undressing. "Is there anyone out there you like?"

"Yeah," I said, suddenly feeling my face getting hot.

"Ooh, who is it?" she asked, grinning at me like the Cheshire cat as her black bra hit the floor and she started stuffing her hair up into the shower cap.

Don't stare. Don't stare. Don't stare.

"It doesn't matter," I said sadly. "She doesn't like me like that."

Mia dropped her jeans and panties all in one go as she faced away from me, and stepped into the shower so quickly I barely had time to register the view of her shapely naked ass. The shower curtain was dark hunter green, opaque, and suddenly I could see nothing.

"It's not me, right?" her voice asked, suspiciously.

"I promise you once again that it's not you. Please stop asking."

"I trust you, so OK. I won't ask you again. And I'm sorry to hear that her feelings aren't reciprocated. But, a word of advice: It's such a trope in our culture that you don't ever give up. You keep pursuing the girl, wearing her down like Urkel hitting on Laura. I'm here to tell you not to fucking do that. It sucks when someone you like doesn't share your feelings, but you can't pester someone into liking you. Move on and find another girl. I know for a fact there are girls out there who do like you."

"Oh?" I was gobsmacked. "Who?"

"I'm not violating the girl code. But they're out there. Just keep your eyes open." The water suddenly shut off and the curtain opened in a flash, revealing a naked, dripping wet Mia. I involuntarily stared at her perky tits and then between her legs, seeing a bare, waxed slit with medium pink inner labia sticking out and dangling below. I'd never seen a girl's vulva in full light before, and I felt a surge of excitement in my khakis as Mia, with a nonchalance that in no way matched how I was feeling, politely asked me, "Hand me that towel, please?"

"I'm keeping my eyes open, like you said," I mumbled as I stared.

"You're impossible." She waited another moment, glaring at me as I stared, then climbed out of the shower and sat squarely in my lap, wrapping her arms around my neck. My khakis and my rugby shirt were instantly soaking wet. "There. You can be my towel."

"Uh, any day."

She giggled, then stood up, grabbing the towel off the bar and wrapping it around herself before looking back at me. "You look like you wet yourself," she said, pointing at my crotch.

"Your fault."

"I know." She smiled again as she stood at the mirror and started to apply makeup.

"Not to change the subject, but do you know what's going on with Allie?" I asked, trying to play it as cool as Mia.

"What do you mean?"

I briefly told Mia the story of Allie acting so weird and distant since the sleepover, and acting so squicked out by my being straight, despite the fact that inviting me to the sleepovers as a safe guy to learn from, and learn on, was her idea. In that time, Mia finished her makeup and hair then hung the towel back on the rack. Once again she was naked in front of me, but she didn't linger, putting on the same bra as before and then motioning me to follow her into the living room. I did so, admiring the view of her naked ass as she headed for an incongruously-placed dresser in the living room, where she retrieved a fresh pair of blue and pink striped panties and quickly slid them on.

"I can understand your concern," Mia said as I finished the story, pulling out a black top and black pencil skirt, the kind worn by restaurant hostesses the world over. "I'm not sharing secrets, but I'll tell you one thing that might help."

"Anything. I thought I knew Allie as well as anyone, but this is a new one for me."

"In my experience from seeing these girls wound up and hyper at dozens of sleepovers, I'm the experienced one, the oracle dispensing forbidden knowledge. Shauna is the quiet religious one who sometimes lets her repressed sexual tension explosively detonate."

"Good memories, there," I interrupted.

Mia smirked. "You're welcome. Emma, meanwhile, is inexperienced but spunky and curious, and Allie is inexperienced and scared."

"Scared?"

"Yeah. She's always been the most uncomfortable of us with any kind of sexual talk or experimentation, and the one who'll turn the conversation away if we get too wound up. I don't mind that; every friend group needs a wet blanket every now and then, and she's definitely steered us away from going too far in the past. But that might be your answer. You should talk to her."

"I'd like to. But why would she be the one to invite me to a sleepover if she's the wet blanket?"

"That's a question only she can answer for you. I genuinely don't know. All I can tell you is when she suggested it, it seemed out of character for her, but we were all down." Mia headed for the door, sliding on a pair of black flats and grabbing her purse and a bottle of water. "I have to catch a bus to work in eight minutes, so we've gotta wrap this up."

"Do you know why she wasn't at school today?" I asked as we exited the apartment and headed for the elevator.

"She had a dentist's appointment this morning, but I know she was there later in the day. I saw her between fourth and fifth periods," Mia said as the elevator descended.

"Oh, that's good to hear. Is she okay?"

"Yeah, she's fine, as far as I know."

We walked out of the building to the nearby bus stop, where I waited for the bus with Mia.