Monday (part 2)

As Arie and I and the dark-eyed girl walked away from the cafeteria, it suddenly struck me that, for the most part, I hadn't noticed all day that I was naked. I hadn't asked for relief, I'd barely had a hard-on. Considering the circumstances, that was probably okay. Arie and her stories—me and my stories—were hardly conducive to things getting hot and bothered. Basically the only time I'd gotten an erection all day was during break, when Jane was near. (I wonder why Zach hadn't teased me about it.) And I'm okay with people looking at me funny; I just shrug it off. So, basically, The Program hadn't given me any trouble all day.

Then I realized what I'd been thinking and said, "Oh crap."

The dark-eyed girl looked at me (she's in my next class too, as I recall). "Something wrong?"

"I think I just jinxed myself," I said.

And I was absolutely right, because in my next class (pre-calc) was Ruby Berringer. The back of whose head have been staring at in starstruck wonder for a long, long time.

She's one of the most attractive girls in school. She has a cheerful round face and lively blue eyes and very nice bosoms and hips; she also has, shall we say, some meat on her bones, and it stands out because she's quite short; but it works to her advantage. When other girls are spiteful and jealous, they call her fat, but no one really believes them, not even the girl herself, because (1) Ruby's not, and (2) it gives her the tits and ass and figure those girls are jealous of. She draws eyes wherever she goes. She's certainly drawn mine. And the fact that I suspect armor—suspect that, like Jane, she's hiding a realer face under that starshine smile—doesn't hurt either.

Of course, there's some nasty stuff that goes around about her at school too—rumors, whispers, talk of crazy things she's done. The fact that everyone says it, consistently—and that she hasn't ever denied it—worries me, but some of this stuff is just so... Wild. It's like, you couldn't really believe that someone would do that.

And my desk was in the back of the classroom, near the door, and she was almost certain to stop to say hello once she noticed that I had no—

"Well, hello, Brandon," came the singsong voice behind me. I felt hands on my shoulders, curly female hair brushing my temple, a chin on one of those hands. "Oh! Well, you're missing pockets, so I can't ask if you're happy to see me."

Down, boy, down. Forget about it. Forget it. She's the prettiest girl in school. She wouldn't be talking to you if you weren't in this colossal state of insanity known as Hi, I have no clothes. No chance. No chance. Forget it. So down with you now, don't stand to attention, don't tempt fate, don't make— Goddammit, he's not listening to a word I'm saying. He never does. Treacherous organ!

"Oooh," Ruby said. "He is happy to see me." And now, of course, the entire class (those who were here already) was turned in their seats, watching us—watching me, sitting there looking rather uncomfortable and hot under the (proverbial) collar; watching Ruby bent over, one of her breasts pressing against my back, watching as one of her hands left my shoulder and ran over my chest. "You know, Brandon, you're actually not bad with no clothes on."

I found my voice. "Hi, Ruby, nice to see you too." I felt extraordinarily conscious of myself, of my position in the classroom, of walls around me, of desks around me, of students around me. I felt extraordinarily... Exposed. My eyes twitched around the classroom (deer in headlights, anyone?), and I noticed that the dark-eyed girl was among the audience. That made me blush.

"So, how has your first day of The Program been so far?" Ruby asked. "Hopefully not too... Exposed?"

"Well," I said, trying to keep my composure (her hand was doing things to my chest I hadn't believed possible). "When you've been on display for the last two years of your life, not having clothes on isn't such a big deal."

"Yes, but... Certain signals are... Easier to read, aren't they?" she asked. As she did, her hand slipped below my desk.

I won't explain to you what happen next. You probably already know. I'll just tell you what Mr. Bhajra, the teacher, and the dark-eyed girl and the other people saw: Ruby, slumped over me, smiling, her hand trailing down my body and then disappearing below the level of my desk, where no one could see it anymore; and then me, my eyes shooting open, and me suddenly sitting bolt-upright in my chair, Ruby's head riding my shoulder like a boat cresting a wave.

"Such as... When a boy's particularly happy to see someone," Ruby said, her voice a warm breath in my ear—in everyone's ears. "Wouldn't you say?"

"Well," I said, trying not to squeak. (Goddamn nearly made me a soprano!) "They're always a little more apparent when a friend lends a helping hand, you understand."

The class tittered and I groaned inwardly. It had been meant as a scathing rebuttal, but because all the force in my voice had gone south to join the burgeoning congestion there, it sounded more like a come-on.

"I suppose so," Ruby said, sounding unconcerned. "Would you... Like a helping hand, Brandon?"

Surprisingly, Mr. Bhajra took that moment to show mercy. "Ms. Berringer, the class is about to start. If you'd take your seat, please..."

Ruby sauntered off, and I concentrated on getting some mastery over my glands. Pre-calc is tricky enough as it is, I couldn't afford a hard-on screwing me up further. (This I have from personal experience, from staring at Ruby Berringer for the less-than-a-month school had been in session.) Ruby, I noticed with some surprise, was sitting next to the dark-eyed girl. The two leaned their heads in close and giggled. Friends, I suppose.

Mr. Bhajra was still calling the roll; he didn't have everyone's names down. There I was, "Chambers, Brandon;" "Berringer, Ruby" had passed already. The dark-eyed girl answered to "Levine, Meredith."

I took a closer look at her as Mr. Bhajra scrolled down the list. I already knew she was fairly tall—a damn sight taller than Ruby, to be sure—and she had that strange but arresting combination of dark eyes and blonde hair, which at current was twined into two braids laid down the side of her head. Her skin was pale and clear. (Did she have freckles?) Because she was sitting some ten feet upwind of me, I couldn't see her face, but I remembered it from lunchtime—round, with wide cheekbones and a chin so tall it made a dimple with her lower lip. She was... Cute wasn't the word, unless you applied it the same way you did to little kids. And there was an element of the young to her, of the childish, to the shape of her face, to her slim frame and the innocence of her eyes. I liked her.

And there she was, sitting next to that most remote of angels, Ruby Berringer. Good job, Brandon, two girls out of reach.

"Mr. Chambers," Mr. Bhajra said after he'd discarded his clipboard. "I understand I'm supposed to offer you an opportunity for relief at the beginning of the class."

I blinked at him. So much for showing mercy.

"Would you like this opportunity, or shall we get started," said Mr. Bhajra.

What happened next was an extreme surprise (to me, at least; 'Levine, Meredith' might have seen it coming from a mile away). Ruby raised her hand, turned towards me and said, "Ooh, pick me!"

"I see you have one volunteer at least," Mr. Bhajra said, smiling at me. "It's your week in The Program, Mr. Chambers. Might as well take advantage of it."

He had a point. I needed to take care of my hard-on, there was no question about that. I'd go up there, Ruby would go up and do her thing... In front of the entire classroom... Oh, my God, what if I, you know, was so embarrassed that I couldn't, you know, stand to attention? That would be the—

Well, then, the rational part of me said, you won't have your hard-on anymore. Problem solved.

... Oh yeah.

I felt that part of my mind give me a little push on the shoulder. Go up there and get hand-jobbed.

I stood up. Ruby, the only person who'd volunteered, joined me at the front of the class.

Again, I won't bother with the details. It was like masturbating, but... Not. There's a big difference between your hand and everyone else's hand; your body just knows, and I'll tell you one thing else—your fuse shortens when it's someone else lighting the match. It didn't take long for Ruby to need the box of tissues Mr. Bhajra handed her.

Meredith Levine watched from the front row with unreadable eyes.

But Ruby didn't use the tissues. Instead, she cupped her hand around the head of my cock like a bowl and collected what came out. And then, while I braced my unsteady knees and held myself up by the little metal shelf on the bottom of the whiteboard, she inspected my output like a farmer at his produce. "Hmm," she said, "good volume, nice temperature..." She rolled it around on her palm (or tried to), and said, "I like the viscosity. But not a lot of it. Very disappointing, Brandon." There was laughter. I felt like a science experiment. Or, more accurately, at least a science experiment being run by a freak show. Here we go again, Brandon Chambers, here to be poked and prodded!

"You know," Ruby said thoughtfully, "I was really hoping for a bit longer duration, but I guess when you've never had much experience, it's..." More laughter.

Then, of all things, she dipped her finger in my spunk and tasted it!

"Mmmm," she said, clearly displeased. "Okay, Brandon, what have you been eating recently?"

ha ha ha ha ha. oh my god did she really say that? hee hee. ha ha ha.

"I don't know," I said, tottering away on trembling legs, "but I hope it's not whatever you eat, that turns you into a first-class bitch!"

Laughter died with the echo of my words.

"Mr. Chambers," Mr. Bhajra said sharply, but he let me return to my seat in peace. Ruby, for her part, wiped her hand disdainfully on her pants, and then sat down. A second later she and Meredith Levine were in silent discussion again.

My God. Talk about blowing your preconceptions out of the water. I think I know now what that realer face Ruby Berringer is hiding is all about.

And that was that for blowjob adventures—at least, for the rest of the school day. I wasn't complaining. If Ruby was going to set the standard, the next person to offer might yank something off. Mr. Bhajra came to the front of the class and started the day's lectures, and I subsided with my slack penis and anger in my heart. Bitch. Stupid bitch. Bloody, stupid...

All through last-period Chemistry (with Tim on one side and Arie somewhere else in the room) I stewed over the situation. I was really pissed off. I guessed I'd gotten what I deserved in terms of Ruby Berringer, or at least what I asked for. What I was really pissed about was 'Levine, Meredith.' I couldn't believe that of her. I couldn't believe that she could be so cruel. I couldn't believe that...

Riiight. 'Levine, Meredith.' Who had sat there and done nothing, said nothing, maybe not even thought it was funny, maybe hadn't agreed with Ruby Berringer at all. Who just happened to be sitting next to her. Yeah. What a bitch. Absolutely malicious.

The teacher was talking about molarity, whatever that was. Wasn't he the villain of the Sherlock Holmes books? I wasn't listening. The problem was... The problem was 'Levine, Meredith.' The problem was that, maybe, there might have been a friendship there. Someone who stops to listen to your horror story... Well, I mean, there are much more fragile foundations for a friendship. The problem was that, now, after Ruby "Hah You Suck" Berringer, I wasn't sure I could trust her. Who was she, anyway?

Chemistry is my last period, but after school, there's another thing I do. And I know you're going to laugh at me, so fuck off—I'm proud of this. Mount Hill has a very strong music program, including one of the best choirs within fifty miles. Which includes, way over in stage right in the bass section behind the altos, me.