Absently, Nate traced the rim of his plastic punch cup, his fingers moving in tedious, endless circles. He glanced out onto the floor with not a little annoyance at the flashing strobe light and hip-hop beat that had sent the gymnasium into a gyrating frenzy. His senior prom was
not
living up to his expectations.
A lot of the problem was timing. The school administration had simply failed to consult with the student body before setting the date for the big dance. As it was, the prom happened to fall on a week when, in the complex rituals of teenage dating, all of the girls where happy and "with" their respective boyfriends. The last wave of heated arguments and break-ups had passed a few weeks ago, tempers had calmed, and the boy-girl relationships had cycled back around to lovey-dovey couplings that meant there would be a healthy amount of dark-corner necking and back-seat fuck-fests throughout the night. Never mind that there would be break-ups galore on Monday morning. The problem was that couples were together
now
. It was simply sloppy planning on the school's part. A stag like Nate cannot be expected to have a good time at the prom when all of the female flesh is happily involved with their respective male counterparts. On top of that, the DJ preferred slow ballads to fast dance beats. With faster songs, a guy could at least gyrate into a few females without drawing much attention. With slower songs, boyfriends where either too possessive to allow another guy to dance with his girl at all, or at least to watchful to let hands wonder very much. The DJ had been playing slow songs all night long. This was just not Nate's day.
Nate had managed to approach Kara earlier in the night and dance a short round with her. He had hoped that, if he could not conquer some new flesh, a romp with last year's prom fuck buddy could be arranged. As Nate drank in the smell of Kara's perfume, he remembered their night one year ago--how he had taken advantage of an argument with her boyfriend to nail her in the back seat of his car. Images of her slender, tan body bouncing up and down on his cock gave him an instant erection as he pressed closer to her, only to have her gently but definitely push him away.
"Nate, don't do that," she said into his ear. "David is probably watching."
"Oh, baby, can't you forget David for just a little while? We could sneak into the bathroom for a quickie," Nate smiled and added, "For old time's sake?"
"I'm sorry, Nate, but I can't."
"Don't you remember last year when you said you wanted me to be your 'other man' even if you and David got back together?" Nate reminded her of the agreement made after their romp in the back seat. Over the course of the year, he and Kara had fucked several times, but lately she seemed less and less interested in honoring their special relationship. "It's been so long since we've played, baby. What's happened to us?"
"Look, Nate, David and I are on really good terms right now," Kara was starting to get flustered. "We've both done stupid things, but we're working through it. And what's all this 'us' business? It's not like we ever had a real relationship, Nate. We were fuck buddies, that's all. We fooled around because we were bored. And it was great, don't get me wrong. You're a fan-fucking-tastic lover, okay? But don't start making it anything more than it was, and all it was young lust. I'm over it now. You should get over it too." With that, Kara walked briskly away, leaving Nate standing in an embarrassed silence at the center of the floor.
Kara's rejection still fresh in his mind, Nate sat on the sidelines watching everyone else enjoy themselves, contemplating what the night's jack-off fantasy would be, when a stroke of good luck walked through the door. Three strokes, actually. Melanie Hammonds, Crystal Lewis, and Amanda Wallace. Nate and his friends referred to them as the Hoe Brigade. They were three notoriously easy, trashy, slutty, pot-head burn outs that had made the rounds to almost every guy in school (and some of the girls, if rumors could be believed). Nate was one of the few that had not tasted this corrupted fruit.
"Better late than never," he said to himself, downing the remainder of his punch and crossing the floor.
These three were legends at Wayne high school. A lot of girls
dressed skimpy, a lot were cock teasers, and most were a few miles south of virginity, but in the end, most girls had there fun here and there and generally behaved themselves. Not these three. They were the real deal: bonafied, card-carrying sluts from the word go. Nate and his friends called them "The Ho Patrol" when they passed (ALWAYS together) in the hallways, invariably on their way to the bathroom to light up before their next class. It was well known that, every weekend, some guy (or several) was getting lucky with one (or all) of the Patrol. And they had been at it for a very long time. Nate knew for a fact--knew because Ryan Stewart had informed him of all the tasty details--that Melanie had once rode the bus home with Ryan's brother Wally for the express purpose of giving him a handjob while his parents were still at work. They just sat on the living room couch with her cranking away on his pecker while Batman Adventures was playing on the tube. Mel hadn't graduated to blowjobs at the time, because this had all happened in the eighth grade, but it didn't take her long.
Nate figured that, if he wanted to get laid tonight, the Patrol was his best bet. He couldn't help but notice the boredom on their faces as he walked up, and hoped that meant his job was going to be all the easier.
"Good evening, ladies," he said. They all replied with broad smiles, though the boredom in their voices was all the more evident. Melanie, with whom Nate had been carrying on a continuous flirtation for years, put her arm around his waist and rested her head on his shoulder. "Having a good time?" Nate ventured.
"Shit no," sighed Crystal. "I hate these fucking dances. All the hot guys are hooked up and they aren't playing any fast songs." Nate smiled.
"Yeah, I know what you mean," he said. "I was thinking of splitting."
"Us too," said Melanie. "You want to come with us up to Cedar Point? We've got some booze in the car. We were just going to have our own party." She giggled.
