Note: all characters 18 years of age or older.
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I was literally opening the door when I heard Marty's voice booming behind me.
"Whoa, whoa, whoa. No freaking way."
I spun around quickly and batted my eyelashes. "What's wrong?" I asked innocently.
"Are you kidding me?" he asked. "There is no way in hell that I'm letting you go to school dressed like that. You look like, like ... no."
"Like what?" I demanded. "You're being so mean. What's the matter with you?"
"No Tina," he sighed, "don't play this game. You know exactly what's wrong. Your shorts are so short and tight that they don't even cover most of your butt cheeks -- and your t-shirt is barely more than a sports bra. No, scratch that, a sports bra would reveal less skin. I mean your, uh, breasts, uh, are basically falling out. There is no way that you're going to school like that. No way."
"O. M. G.," I said, pausing dramatically after each letter, my mouth hanging open in fake-shock, "what the hell is the matter with you? Mom is gone for not even 24 hours and you're checking out my ass and boobs? What! That is so perverted! Yuck!"
"Tina!" My step-dad yelled, "that is not at all what -- "
"Ugh!" I screamed, "Get away from me, perv!"
I ran out the front door and slammed it behind me. Thankfully the bus was just pulling up half a block down the street -- I made it just in time and let out a huge sigh of relief as the doors closed.
Stupid Marty! I thought, smiling to myself. He was such a dork and way too chicken to ever make a move on me, but I had caught him checking me out so many times it was almost funny. Every time he would turn away and pretend like he wasn't, and I'd act like I didn't notice. But he was so easy to tease and manipulate that I couldn't help it, even though I'm sure that being the boy scout that he was he felt guilty every time he checked out his step-daughter.
But, then again, I couldn't really blame him. I mean, I like totally won the genetics lottery: tan, smooth, creamy skin; blonde hair; big, perky, bouncy tits; nice round and bubbly ass; a flat tummy but curves in all the right the places -- the works. And after being teased for being a flat chested "tom boy" for most of high school, there was no way in hell that I wasn't going to make a statement on the first day of Senior year by showing off this amazing body. That's the thing about being a late bloomer, I guess: while all the other girls were getting their tits and had boys chasing their skirts, I was the shy girl in the corner with a book -- and now I've got to make up for lost time! I was going to find a nice, rich, sexy boy from a well-to-do family to seduce and lose my virginity to. And no one was going to stand in my way, certainly not dorky ol' Marty. As if!
Suddenly I realized that the whole bus -- boys and girls -- were staring at me. I blushed, and did a cute little shrug, saying "sorry" in a high pitched voice and started to look for a seat. It was kind of embarrassing, but I had to admit that I loved the attention -- half the guys on the bus had their mouths open, just staring at me -- and the other half was too intimated to! I smiled at no one in particular, but thrust my chest forward as I started to walk down the aisle. It was packed. I did pass a couple of open seats, but only because I would have had to share them with either jealous, stuck-up girls with nasty glares glued to their faces or ugly, nerdy boys. Yeah right!
I started to regret that decision by the time I'd reached the back of the bus. Fuck! I thought. Am I really going to have to stand the whole way? Then I heard a deep, long whistle from the seat next to me.
"Damn, girl," the occupant of the seat said, "you lookin' fine as hell! Come sit with me."
I turned to face him, blushing. I knew who it was immediately, Tyrone Jackson, one of the few black guys at our school. He was sprawled out across the entire back seat, which he had to himself. Though, in fairness, he needed it: he was our star football player and looked the part -- about 6 and half feet tall and easily over 220 pounds of solid muscle. But that was also the only reason he hadn't been expelled yet, too: he was basically the exact definition of a "thug" and it was an open secret that if we didn't have a chance at making State this year he'd of been held back a year, at the least.
"Oh!" I squealed, but started to hesitate, knowing that the whole bus was still watching, "thank you, but um, I don't know, that's ok, I mean, I'm sure you need the room, uh, you know, I'll stand, I think ..."
I mean, I'm so not a racist or anything. But this was supposed to be my day to make an impression and set the tone for the entire year! And the last thing that I wanted was to be pegged as one of those white girls who's into black guys. Like, the thing is, just because I'm not personally a racist, the reality is that a lot of people in this town are ... and if I want a chance of dating any of them -- or even just hanging out -- then there's no way that I could afford to tagged as a hussy for black men. No way. Unfortunately, Tyrone had other plans.
"Is you crazy, girl?" Tyrone asked, smiling wide, revealing a set of big, bright white teeth that contrasted in a weirdly attractive way with his jet-black skin, "Ain't no way I gonna let a beautiful ass angel like you stand all da' way. Dats so fuckin' wack 'at no body offered you a seat. But I'm a mothafuckin' gentleman, aight? Ain't no way I be making a pretty ass fuck girl be standing da' whole ride."
I was going to respond, but then he grabbed me by the wrist and pulled me towards him. I let out a little scream that morphed into a sigh as I landed on his lap. It all happened so fast that I didn't know what to say, or do, so I just blurted out, "thank you" absentmindedly.
Fuck! I thought immediately, why did I say that! This black thug (I have to admit that a word starting with "n" that Marty and Mom threw away quite regularly crossed my mind -- they were both staunch Republicans, like 90% of the rest of the town) just manhandled me like it was nothing, and now he's going to think that I'm glad he did!
Sure enough, Tyrone flashed that same wide smile again, and proceeded to wrap his heavily muscled arms around my waist, holding me in place on his lap. "Ah, fuck girl," he said, "y'all ain't gotta thank me, I's just be doin' what any real man would. Nah, I oughta be thankin' you for choosin' to grace ma' lap with dis perfect, sweet ass instead of any a' da' otha mothafuckers on dis bus."
With that, he moved his hand a little further down my leg and squeezed my thigh, and then leaned up against my neck so close that I could feel his breath, and whispered, "damn, y'all smell so good. I just wanna eat ya up." And then, to my shock and horror, he nibbled on me! Like we were together or something -- a playful little nip on my neck!
"Whoa," I whispered, not wanted to draw attention to myself, "What do you think you're doing?"
Instead of answering, he just smiled and then nibbled again! The nerve! I was about to scold him when suddenly I noticed that his hand was moving up my tummy and under my shirt -- and I wasn't wearing a bra!
"No!" I was about to scream as my eyes went wide, but by then his fingers were already circling my nipples -- which were, to my horror, so hard they could cut diamonds. His other hand immediately covered my mouth so that my cry came out muffled.
