Sammy and Kyle, two slacker dudes who spent most of their time looking for trouble, and usually finding it, were cruising slowly down Fourth Street on a Friday night in Sammy's Camaro. They were supposed to be celebrating Kyle's release from county lockup after serving nine months for assault, but the night was getting off to a slow start.
"Damn, I need some pussy," Kyle moaned.
"You wanna go over to Highland and find a hooker?"
"Nah, I don't want some skank ho tonight. I want something nice and young and juicy."
"Sounds like I should drop you off at the grocery so you can shop for peaches." Sammy laughed at his own joke.
"Slow down," Kyle said suddenly.
"Over there, in the parking lot next to the liquor store. It looks like a young girl, just standing there, like she's waiting for somebody".
Sammy took a quick glance. "I see her," he said. "Damn, she looks too young, like she's about twelve or so. When you said young and juicy, I didn't know you were goin' all pedo on me."
"Nah, I don't think she's that young," Kyle said. "I mean, what would a girl that young be doin' out this late on a Friday, standin' all by herself in the parking lot of a liquor store?"
"I don't know, dude."
"You think she's a hooker?" Kyle asked.
"Not here. The cops are trying to keep all the hos and dealers further south."
"So, what do you think she's doin'?"
"Well," Sammy said as he drove slowly past the parking lot, "I guess we could ask her."
"That's why I like you, dude," Kyle smirked, "you're really smart."
"Don't be a wiseass," Sammy snapped. He made a right hand turn and drove around the block. When they got back to the dimly lit lot the girl was still there, talking to some old dude who had just come out of the store. Sammy pulled in and parked in the back of the lot.
"I'll be damned," Kyle exclaimed, "she really is a hooker."
"Looks like she's not doing very good," Sammy said, as the old guy pushed his way past her and got in his car.
"Wonder how much she charges?" Kyle asked.
"Even if she's giving it away, I still think she's too young," Sammy warned.
The girl turned, her white face, surrounded by long black hair, looked almost ghostly in the dim glow of the one good light in the small parking lot. "Hey," Kyle said, "She might be older than we think. I think she's in hogh school. She's wearing a letter jacket from Fremont High. Think she's an athlete? I like girls who play sports."
"You mean girls who like to play with your balls, right?" Sammy laughed.
"That jacket might be her boyfriend's or her brother's, but I guess it won't hurt to talk to her."
"I don't think she's a pro," Kyle observed. "She's not dressed like one, and like you said, this is a bad place to be walkin' the street. Let's find out what's goin' on."
Sammy started the car, circled the lot, and pulled into a parking place close to where the girl was standing. Kyle leaned out of the passenger side window like a dog going for a ride. "Waiting for someone?" he asked her.
"Yeah," the girl replied.
"So, how much do you charge for a blowjob?" Kyle's pent-up passion was getting the best of him. Just the idea of being a few feet away from some fresh teenage gash was giving him an erection.
"Excuse my friend," Sammy said, as he pushed Kyle back out of the way. "He's been on a ... vacation for awhile, and hasn't been close to any pus ... girls in awhile. I think he forgot his manners."
"Yeah, dude, whatever," she snarled, turning away from them.
"Hey, wait a minute," Sammy called, trying to save the moment. "You're a cheerleader at Fremont, right?"
"Uh-huh. How did you know?"
"Your jacket," he said, pointing to the cheerleader symbol over the large 'F'. Plus, I saw you at the Hilldale game a couple weeks ago. You're the one they throw around like a rag doll, right?"
"Yeah, that's me."
"They use you cuz you're so small, right?" Kyle asked, trying to insinuate himself back into the conversation.
"I guess so," she replied, still looking at them warily.
"How tall are you?"
"How much do you weigh?"
"About eighty-five pounds."
"Man, I bet I could throw you too."
"Man, I guess you'll never get a chance to find out, will you," she snarled.
"Hey, let's all be cool," Sammy said, turning on the charm that had made him so popular in high school. "I'm Sammy. What's your name?"
"Why? You wanna go steady or somethin'?"
Sammy recognized the attitude. When he had been in high school, the only girls who seemed to be resistant to his charm were the stuck-up cheerleaders. Apparently that hadn't changed. Even though she seemed to have a chip on her shoulder, Sammy didn't give up. "Fair enough. You don't have to tell us if you don't want to. But why the hell are you hangin' round here? Are you in trouble? Do you need some help."
The girl walked around to the driver's side of the car, and grinned Sammy. "Yeah, I do," she said. "There's a party tonight, some cheerleaders and football players, and I want to go, but the price of admission is a case of beer or a bottle of vodka."
"And because you're too young to just walk in there and buy booze, you're looking for somebody to buy it for you," Sammy said.
"That's right," she said, smiling even more.
"How old are you?" Kyle asked.
"I'm seventeen," she said.
"Yeah, and I'm Brad Pitt," he snarled.
"Okay, I'm fifteen, but what difference does it make? Underage is underage. So, can you guys help me?"
"What's in it for us?" Kyle asked. "I mean, if we get caught buying for a minor, we can get in a lot of trouble, so why should we take the risk?"
"I'll pay you," the girl replied. "I've got enough money for the beer, and an extra twenty for your trouble."
"I've got a better idea," Sammy said. "Why don't I go in and buy two cases. Maybe if we show up with a lot of beer you're friends will let us stick around too."
"Uh, I'm not sure about that. There aren't supposed to be any outsiders at the party."
"Well, it won't hurt to ask, right?" Kyle suggested. "I mean, we're gonna have to take you there anyway. Or were you planning on walking down the street toting a case of beer."
"Uh, okay, I guess you're right, it won't hurt to ask."
Sammy got out of the car. "Why don't you wait here with my buddy while I go get the beer," he said, pulling the seatback forward to give her room to get in the backseat.
Somewhat reluctantly the girl slid into the small backseat of Sammy's Camaro. He closed the door behind her and headed into the store. Kyle turned and smiled at her. His expression did not make her feel any better about her decision to get in the car. "I'm Kyle," he said, extending his hand.
"Jessica" she replied, giving him a weak handshake.
"Jessica. Not Jessie?"
"My friends call me that."
"I could be your friend," Kyle said.
"I've already got enough friends," she snapped.
"Ow, I'm wounded." Kyle put his hands over his chest, as if staunching the blood from a mortal wound. "So, just where is this party, wiseass?"
"It's only a couple blocks away. The Fremont apartments. You know where that is?"
"Yeah," he laughed. "I used to live there, long time ago. It was a dump then, and I'm guessing it's not much better now. Which probably makes it a good party place, right?"
"I guess. I've never been there."
"Believe it or not, I lost my virginity at the Fremont," Kyle told her. "I was spending the night with one of my friends. After my buddy fell asleep, his mom snuck into the bedroom and invited me into her bed. She wasn't too bad looking, maybe a little overweight, but we kept the lights off. Not exactly something I like to brag about, but you never forget your first time, right?"
"Whatever," Jessica mumbled.
"Oh wait," Kyle said with a grin that had no humor left in it, "you don't have a first time to remember, do you?"
"Bullshit," she snapped, "I've done it, a lot."
"Yeah, right, I forgot, cheerleaders fuck all the football players."
"Screw you," Jessica snarled.
Sammy put an end to their squabbling with his return. He opened the trunk and put two cases of Natty Lite in it. "You guys gettin' to know each other?" he asked as he slid back behind the wheel.
"Sure," Kyle drawled. "Did you know that little Jessie here fucks the football team?"
"That's kind of a surprise," Sammy said. "I had her pegged as more of a basketball slut. I've heard some of those tall black guys have big dicks. Is that true?"
"You guys are pigs," Jessica replied, wondering just what the hell she had been thinking when she had accepted their help.
"The party's at the Fremont," Kyle told him.
"The Fremont? Hah, good memories, right?" Sammy cranked up his pride-and-joy and left two new black marks on the asphalt as he peeled out of the parking lot and turned right.
"Hey, where you goin'?" Jessica asked. "Fremont is the other way."
"Aw, come on," Sammy said, making eye contact with her in the rear-view mirror, "you can't expect us to show up at a party dressed like slobs, can you? We're just gonna run home and change clothes real quick."
"Uh, why don't you drop me off, then go change?"
"Relax, sweetie," Kyle added. "It's just a little detour."
.... There is more of this story ...