A/N: Hello, all... It's been a while, huh! I'm trying to get back in the swing of things, but thought I would put this up in the interim.
This story is set in Japan, so there may be a few cultural differences (i.e. putting shoes away, the acute feelings of shame, the use of the "-chan" suffix as a term of endearment).
It's also a bit more rough than my other stories, so I advise against reading this if you're not into that sort of thing.
All characters are 18+ years of age.
As always, enjoy!
*~*
I knew something was wrong when I walked through the doors of the school that morning. There were two other girls standing at the shoe lockers. When they saw me they covered their mouths with their hands and began to whisper to each other. I lowered my eyes and let my hair fall into my face, walking up to my locker and pretending as though I couldn't see them. I slipped out of my shoes, the cold from the floor seeping through my socks.
I pulled out the slippers and bent down to place them on the floor, picking up my shoes and standing back up to place them in the small space. As I closed the door, I heard one of the girls call out to me, tentatively.
"Hey, Reiko..."
The girl had glasses perched on the tip of her nose. She had stepped slightly forward, one of her hands clutched to her chest, her eyes wide. The girl behind her was staring at me, her eyes narrowed and judging.
"Is it true?" the first girl asked.
I blinked slowly, my brow furrowing slightly. "Is what... true?"
"What they're saying about you? What you did with Ken?"
I felt the heat rising to my face, and could imagine the splotches of red color blooming on my cheeks. My heart started beating faster, and I felt the breath hitch in my throat - how the hell could they know about that? Ken wouldn't have dared to say anything, would he?
I smiled weakly and answered her, my voice soft and high-pitched. "I... I don't know what you're talking about..."
"Forget it, Kaoru," the other girl said suddenly. "We already know how her kind is. There's no use trying to get the truth out of a whore." She shot me another filthy look, turned on her heel and began walking away briskly. Kaoru glanced hesitantly at me before following the other girl down the hallway.
I stood alone at the shoe lockers, my fingers white from clutching the cold metal, the sharp edge of the door cutting into the palm of my hand. But I couldn't let go. I needed to hold on to it, to keep from reeling from the notion that rumors of what Ken had done to me were now spreading throughout the entire school.
It's not like it was even my choice, my decision. I wasn't even thinking about it. I was just excited to be spending time with him, happy to know that after so many months of pining over him from afar that he had finally returned my affections. It was the most painful thing, the day I decided to confess to him. I managed to catch him alone just after classes had ended. I was red in the face, and I could barely breathe, but I had had enough of these emotions, welling up inside of me for too long, and I was afraid that if I didn't tell him that I would burst.
Suki da yo, Ken. I really like you.
And amazingly he smiled at me, asked me if he could walk me home and if I would like to stop for dessert on the way.
I couldn't smile wide enough to show how happy I felt.
And so we spent the next few weeks together; Ken would walk me home, and sometimes we would go to a café to get something sweet to eat. Eventually he started to invite me out at night, and we would go to restaurants and walk around the city until it was time for him to walk me home.
He kissed me on the mouth one night, and my eyes flew wide in surprise. I had never been kissed before, but what I was more surprised about was the small jolt I felt shooting to that space between my legs. I had felt it before, but never as strongly as I did then. And I wanted to feel it again. So I kissed him back.
That night I lay in my bed, lazily running my fingers over my lips, imagining Ken kissing me again, and every time the scene replayed itself in my mind's eye I would feel the little shock lighting me up.
And so Ken would kiss me. Never in public, never when other people were around. That was not acceptable. He would kiss me in the hallway between classes, or on the empty streets in the middle of the night, or outside my house when he had walked me home. And I would kiss back, tentatively, because I knew I wasn't supposed to enjoy this, but I couldn't help but yearn for that feeling of desire that shot through me.
Ken seemed to pick up on this soon enough, and that's when things started to go bad. One night we were walking along the streets of the city, taking the long way so I wouldn't have to go home so early. Ken had been acting strangely that day, touching me more than usual, and something dark and predatory had come over his eyes. I wasn't sure what to do, so I didn't say anything, and tried not to upset him. At one point I noticed that he wasn't walking beside me anymore, and I turned to see that he had stopped a few feet back, his face downturned.
"Ken...?"
I called out to him tentatively, my small voice carrying in the silent night. When he didn't respond, I walked back towards him and reached out slowly, my small hand touching his arm. Suddenly he looked up at me, a small smile on his face.
"I'm alright, don't worry," he said, and I smiled back in relief. I closed my eyes, expecting a kiss, and melted into him as I felt his lips touch mine.
Then I was moving backwards, one foot stepping behind the other as Ken placed his hands on my arms and pushed me slowly to the side of the road. I felt my back hit up against something, felt the cold hard cement scratching me through my uniform, but I tried to ignore it and focus on the pleasant sensation traveling down my body and settling between my legs. Only the kiss wasn't as pleasant as I'd remembered - this time it seemed rushed, forced. Suddenly I felt Ken thrust his tongue sharply into my mouth, and my eyes flew open in surprise. I saw that both of his arms were raised on either side of my head, his hands placed on the wall behind me. I brought my hands to his chest and pushed softly, trying to get him to move back, but he wouldn't budge - instead, he thrust forward aggressively, effectively pinning me in front of him. My heart rate spiked when I felt something hard pressing against my stomach.
I managed to break the kiss, turning my head to the side so he could no longer reach my lips.
"Stop it, Ken!" I managed to say.
He lowered his arms and stepped back, panting heavily. My eyes glanced down and I saw something that made my heart jump again - a bulge at the front of his jeans, straining against his pants.
I felt the heat rise to my face, and I lowered my head so I wouldn't have to look at him. We stood there in silence for a long while, until I heard him say, "Come on," and he turned and started walking away. Slowly I pushed myself off of the wall and followed him, my head still bent.
As we walked I became aware of a very unpleasant sensation underneath my skirt; my panties were wet and cold. Ken was walking a few feet in front of me. He hadn't said a word and hadn't looked back to make sure I was still following him. Sure that I wouldn't be caught, I timidly reached behind me and lifted up my skirt, slipping a finger past the elastic band of my panties.
I gasped and quickly withdrew my hand, clutching it to my chest. It was hot and wet, the heat seemingly trapped within the fabric of my panties. I felt that same jolt of desire shoot through me, just as it had when Ken would kiss me.
As I walked along silently behind him, I tried to understand what this meant. I had heard other girls talking in the locker room about how you would get wet when you were aroused. That meant that whatever was going on at the time, you liked it. But I didn't like it when Ken forced himself on me like that. Did I?
When we finally reached my house he continued walking past the building without a word. I watched him go silently, not knowing what to say.
That night as I lay in my bed I couldn't help but relive that incident - the way he trapped me against the wall, the way he thrust his tongue in my mouth, the feeling of him against my belly... And yet, I couldn't stop the throbbing feeling that started between my legs. After resisting as long as I could I took my hand and slowly ran it down my body, my fingers shaking as I went, until they slipped beneath my panties. My hand was enveloped in the warmth, and I cupped myself with my palm, the wet liquid getting on to my fingers. I lay with my hand there for a moment, my heart racing, until instinctively I squeezed my legs together and the most intense throb of pleasure shot through me.
I withdrew my hand as though I'd been burned and curled up into my side, a flood of shame and disgust washing over me, angry at myself for not hating what he did, shamed at what I was really feeling, scared of this wetness between my legs, at the thought that I might have liked it.