Chapter 6

The night of the prom Kyle came to the door dressed in a white dinner jacket and black tuxedo trousers. Lance was surprised that he wore a plaid bowtie and cummerbund and thought Retro all the way. He was carrying a clear plastic box with an orchid corsage inside, really retro. In the uncomfortable wait for Stacy’s grand entrance Kyle was respectful and attentive to the two adults. Lance was impressed with the level of the boy’s conversation. They were all anticipating the sound of Stacy’s footsteps when they heard her door open. At the sound of her feet on the stairs, their heads swung to the landing at the bottom of the steps. When she appeared Kyle blushed, and his Adam’s apple bobbed. To the two adults, he appeared embarrassed. Clearing his throat he said, “You look beautiful, Stacy.”

She was wearing a calf-length A-line dress of pink satin with pink peau-de-soie three-inch heels. Everything about Stacy’s selection —with her mother’s help—enhanced the young girl’s beauty. Her hair and her hazel eyes complimented each other; the pink dress enhanced her soft loveliness. Wearing a string of pearls that nestled on her demure cleavage, her peaches-and-cream face glowed. Lance noted that, unlike most girls her age, she didn’t show off her breasts, merely used them as an enticement. He couldn’t believe that this was the same girl who had gone down on him in the car on the way to school, had accosted him in his bed, and with whom he recently had sex in the park. She appeared as a classy ingenue, dressed in considered taste for this important event.

With misty eyes, Claire said, “Oh, baby, you look gorgeous.” A plaintive look covered her face when she said, “It’s too bad that Grandpa Stu isn’t here to see you.” Stacy’s furtive eyes swung from her mother to Lance to Kyle and back.”

At the door, the adults stood watching as Kyle opened the car door for Stacy. As the door closed, they saw Stacy’s face looking at them through the window. She smiled and, like the cat that ate the canary, put her tongue in her cheek. As the champagne-colored Lexus SUV pulled away Claire and Lance seemed more like a married couple. Leaning against her tenant she said, “She’s been a different girl this past week.”

“Mm, hmm,” Lance murmured. “Maybe for the first time in her life, she’s with someone who likes her just because she’s Stacy.”

It was the first time they had been alone for over three weeks. Stepping inside he closed the door, took Claire’s hand, and pulled her to him. Their kiss was hungry. Palpitations of each other’s hearts reverberated in their pressing abdomens. Breaking the kiss Lance said, “Your place or mine?”

“Why don’t we meet halfway,” Claire responded.

Unaccustomed to being treated like a lady, Stacy Moore felt more special than she had ever felt before. So much of her culture from the time she was a small child had revolved around pleasing an older male, then pleasing several older males, sometimes many of them at one time. Though she had always been extremely popular she couldn’t remember a time when a boy wanted to be with her just because she was Stacy Moore, the person. Nonetheless, she was always more than willing, even eager to provide him with easy sex to provide for that boy, whomever he was.

The loss of her grandfather Stu and his wife Erline was a double-edged sword. His loss claimed her sexual mentor, the man she learned to serve. It was an abrupt departure. While she didn’t love what her life had become, she felt the need to live it as she had learned, subserviently. Perhaps, had Stu Barr opened her in the pursuit of love and caring instead of manipulation and exploitation his loss might have been greater for her. But the need she felt for her grandfather was akin to the needs of the urchins in Oliver Twist, under the control of the evil Fagin. With Stu’s demise the burden of being manipulated and used to service his “friends” was lifted. No longer did that ugly specter hover over Stacy or her mother. It was only after the mourning of his death eased that she began to see the relationship as it was, his demands, and her catering to them. When she started dating, Stacy felt obligated to serve her boyfriends the way she had served her grandfather. And if a boy didn’t make the first move, she would play him with a hand job and a blow job and then encourage him to fuck her. It was no mystery why a queue of boys soon confirmed her popularity. Like dogs sniffing after a bitch in heat they became her entourage.

After Kyle had opened the car door for her (an entirely new experience) she looked at her mom and Lance who were standing on the front steps and grinned. It was no different at the Prom. While other boys would walk in front of their dates, expecting them to follow, Kyle would step aside and let Stacy go first. When she sat down, he attended her chair, with gentlemanly conduct that was foreign to her. She didn’t fully understand why but that kind of attention thrilled her.

Kyle Van der Meer, a bit of a nerd, was a serious student. He was athletic but chose to play sports that weren’t in the mainstream, sports like Lacrosse and Water polo. The football and basketball coaches pressured him to play their sport, but he turned them down. To the football coach, he said, “See this knee?” pointing to his knee and flexing it. “I’m looking forward to it working the same way for the rest of my life.” As for basketball, he thought the coach was unethical and didn’t like the type of guys with whom he chose to coach. In Kyle’s opinion, they were thugs. Stacy Moore had been on Kyle’s horizon for a long time. For most of her junior and senior years, however, she was involved with the hot-shot guard on the basketball team, Sean McCleary. Kyle compared Stacy to other girls that appealed to him. She appeared to be honest, down-to-earth, and extremely quick-witted. She was compassionate to friends who were in need, a trait so many other girls lacked, Stacy was one that Kyle held in high regard.

He had heard scuttlebutt about Stacy’s sluttish behavior. But growing up with broadminded and understanding parents he had been taught that sex was just one aspect of the total person. Though he was dissatisfied with Stacy’s reputation, his disrespect for Sean McKnight, as well as his circle of friends, he held with great disdain. He thought that a girl like Stacy Moore deserved a boy like himself, one who would treat her like a princess, which through his eyes she seemed to be.

The day after it happened, the news of Stacy having taken on the basketball team spread through the campus. Kyle seethed that she could have let something like that happen to herself. He was thrilled though that, as a result of the scandal amongst the students, Stacy completely disassociated herself from Sean and his pack of animals. But he was conflicted. The fact that she had been having sex with Sean bothered him. He realized that many teenage relationships could include sex of some kind. But the visions he had of what might have gone on between those two haunted him. Most of all he hated himself for masturbating as Sean’s replacement with thoughts of them on his mind. Because of this, he developed an even greater envy and enmity toward Stacy’s despicable boyfriend.

A few days after Stacy broke up with Sean, Kyle asked her out for a coke. She refused, saying, “I’ve just had it up to here with guys,” holding the back of her hand under her chin, “and I’m not gonna date anybody for a while.” About two weeks later he looked out the window of his calculus class and spied Stacy getting out of a black Porsche. The wide grin on her face made him wonder what might have gone on between her and the man in the car. The man appeared older like he could have been her father.

Kyle persisted in asking Stacy for a date. She continued to refuse. On the day she was late to help with prom decorating something finally happened. He knew she was supposed to be there and kept watching for her to come in. At one point he went outside to see if he might see her coming. While he was standing his hopeful vigil the same black Porsche pulled up. When Stacy got out of the car the look on her face was like she had just awakened from a delightful dream. He watched as she took a shortcut across the grass. When she saw him, she headed directly toward him. There was something different about her. Her walk was an easy gait as if she had been doing yoga and meditating. And she wore no make-up. “Kyle,” she said when she neared him, “I’ve been thinking about you.” Holding his surprise, he merely raised one eyebrow. “I was just having coffee with Lance Claridge.” Her hand swept toward the Porsche, which was about a hundred feet from where she got out. It was barely creeping toward the stop sign. She had lied about having coffee. She had been frolicking with Lance on a bed of moss in a hidden grove in the park. She had talked with him about Kyle though. And he encouraged her to go after the boy. Kyle noticed that the driver kept turning and looking back at them.

She saw the wheels turning in Kyle’s mind and wondered if she still carried the scent of her recent sex with Lance. Questioning if Kyle might be able to sense it, she threw out a defensive strategy by saying, “He’s renting a room at our house,” Hoping the explanation would suffice, “He just gave me some interesting advice.”

Kyle wanted to blurt out, “OK, OK. Will you go to the prom with me?”

But her enthusiasm overrode his opportunity, and she said it first, “I wanted to ask you if you have a date for the prom, Kyle.”

Not believing what he had just heard he blushed. Confused as to why she was asking the question he stammered, “N-no, I- I was going to ask you. But you wouldn’t even go out with me for a coke. I thought...”

Cutting him off she said, “It hasn’t been you, Kyle. It’s been me.” She thought of the glorious sex she’d just had with Lance in the park. Stacy Moore was a girl who’d been taught by her grandfather that her purpose was sex. At the moment she was neither embarrassed nor guilt-ridden by her actions. At the same time, she felt different with this boy, less in control. “I...” she began. Her eyes sparkled with the welling of moisture in them. “I...” He wanted to say something but had to hear what would be coming from her mouth. She blurted, “I didn’t think you were the kind of boy who would be interested in a girl like me.”

Thoughts of the rumors about Stacy’s promiscuity flooded his mind. Images of her sucking Jake and Benny and those other guys, while Sean pumped from behind created a vivid picture. Despite those stories, Kyle had been asking her for a date. He knew how other students gossiped about her. But he remembered his mother and father saying, “Always consider the complete person, Kyle ... and the story behind that person.”

He was a normal kid as far as sex was concerned, masturbating incessantly through puberty. For almost two years he’d been doing it with Stacy as his fantasy. Sure, he would like to do those things with her. But he wanted to do them to show her how much he cared for her, not just to have her as a hash mark. He didn’t know anything about pleasing a girl, but he wanted to try.

“I have always liked you, Stacy,” he said. “I have never considered you a “girl like me” as you put it.” She averted her eyes which made him feel uncomfortable, but he went on, “I’ve heard the rumors.” She wanted to crawl in a hole. “But I like you because you’re Stacy Moore the person...” He was afraid to say what was on the tip of his tongue and thought, even sluts must have a certain measure of self-respect.

Her eyes glistened as she looked at him. “Does that mean you’ll take me to the prom?”

“I’m a little old-fashioned,” he said. “I’m the one who should be doing the asking. Will you go to the prom with me, Stacy Moore?”

At the dance, Kyle Van der Meer and Stacy Moore were the most watched couple on the floor. The students who were considered movers and shakers knew Stacy by reputation. Those girls disdained her because of her reputation, always tolerating her in a snobbish way. Most of them had nothing against her but were afraid to let their friends know. Stacy was hypocritically accepted by most of them because she was popular with the star athletes that “acceptable” girls had on their wish lists. The allure of living vicariously made Stacy’s naughtiness appeal to those who fantasized about that kind of wildness in themselves, although most would not have put themselves in that position.

The second reason all eyes were glued on Kyle and Stacy was that Kyle was classified as a geek. He hung around with socially backward kids—most of whom were afraid to date girls. To girls and guys alike the fact that Stacy threw over Sean and was here at the dance with Kyle was inconceivable. But once he started dancing the girls were astounded when Kyle turned out to be an outstanding dancer. He was such a powerful lead that Stacy appeared to be an extension of his body. Many girls watched with envy as Stacy, like Ginger Rogers, danced the more sophisticated dances while they stood with boyfriends who danced only the box step or played grab-ass with their buddies when any other kind of dance music was played. Kyle Van der Meer consciously understated himself. An outstanding student, he was brought up to be confident but not boastful. His concern for others who were considered “different” was a trait that had been carefully instilled by his parents. In his group of friends, he was the leader and mentor.

The Prom dance was held in the high school auditorium. Afterwards, the party would move to the field house, that Stacy and Kyle had helped decorate. Kyle and Stacy walked hand-in-hand between two groups of couples toward the field house. A noise caused them to look to their right. In the shadows, they could make out two tall forms, one shouting something that they couldn’t make out. When he yelled again, they heard what he was yelling and wished they hadn’t: “HAS STACY TOLD YOU HOW SHE SUCKED ALL THOSE GUYS’ COCKS YET, AND HOW WE GANG-BANGED HER?”

It was Sean. Stacy wanted to melt into the earth. Rafique Butler, one of the black basketball players she had sucked that day, was with him. She hissed through her teeth to Kyle, “I’m SO sorry. Maybe you should take me home. I’m SO sorry.” She tried jerking her hand free, but Kyle held tight. To her shock, he turned around and was taking her directly toward Sean and Rafique. Like an amoeba, the crowd immediately followed. In a state of panic, Stacy asked, “What in the world are you DOING, Kyle?”

In his matter-of-fact way, he calmly said, “The time to face a difficult circumstance, Stacy, is when it occurs.” Frightened by the prospect of the two ruffians thrashing Kyle and further embarrassing herself, Stacy jerked more forcefully to free her hand from his grip. Sean had threatened her when she broke up with him and told her that whomever she went with would be sorry.

“But Sean’s mean,” she said. “So is Rafique. I’ve seen them beat up a player on an opposing team just because he said ‘Hi’ to me.” While pleased that Kyle was willing to stand up for her, she was sure he was no match for Sean, and certainly not for the two of them.

Firmly holding Stacy’s hand Kyle stood ramrod straight looking up at the two tall boys. “Sean,” he said, “you owe Stacy and all these other people an apology.”

Leaning against one of the playground basketball poles Sean said with a beer in one hand and the other in his pocket he looked at Rafique, sneered, and said, “He wants an apology. Heh, heh.”