Chapter 1

I walked up the steps to the foyer, my heart pounding in my ears. I turned and looked back, choking down an almost overwhelming instinct to run away. But Gloria was still sitting in the car, watching me. Making sure I rang the bell and entered before she left.

My finger was literally shaking as I pushed number five.

The buzzer sounded immediately, and I pushed through the front door. I climbed the stairs, shaky in the high heeled shoes. I’d never worn them before.

The apartment door was ajar. The man waited for me inside; I didn’t even know who it would be. I pushed open the door and went in.

“Close it behind you.” a man’s voice said.

The voice was soft, smooth, yet not reassuring. I knew it was someone from the school, one of my teachers most likely. He was sitting in a chair in the dim room, with a bright light pointed at me from over his shoulder, so he could see me but I couldn’t see him very well. But it was a man, so this wasn’t a joke or a hazing.

“Come right in Haley.” He said, “It is Haley, isn’t it?”

“Yes.” I said, trying to figure out who it was.

“That’s a lovely dress Haley. Please take it off.” He said.

It wasn’t even mine, it was “borrowed” from Stacy’s mother. It was tight, green, short, and expensive. I felt as if I were naked, as though he could see everything. He probably could.

I hesitated. I was sixteen years old and no man had ever seen me naked. To take the dress off was a big step, a leap into danger. If I stripped off in front of this unseen man, it would be very difficult to stop the whole thing from happening.

I was a virgin, and not even sure I was heterosexual. I pretended to be attracted to men so I could be one of the girls, but in reality I thought females were more attractive. Or maybe I was just afraid.

“Are you afraid?” the man asked.

“Yes.” I admitted.

“That’s perfectly normal.” He said. “But you don’t have to be. The door isn’t locked, you can leave at any time. You’re here by your own choice, right?”

“Yes.” I said again, but I would have preferred to start saying no. I should have done that months ago, but I didn’t, and now I was here, terrified, a lamb in a lion’s den.

The straight A club, that’s what we were called. By invitation only, the girl’s elite study group. We never failed. Yes, because we were all smart. Because we studied hard. Because we had a deal with someone on the school staff. He got us copies of the tests several days in advance; and in return, he got one girl for one night each month. And this time, it was my turn.

We had rituals and oaths, it’d all been pretty funny until this point. Only girls who had ‘paid their dues’ knew who our benefactor was. That was for security; this had been going on for a long time.

“Start with the belt.” The man said softly.

Slowly, I did as he asked.

It was peer pressure. That’s why I was here, peer pressure. I didn’t even need those cheat sheets, I didn’t have trouble with academic stuff. I only joined the group to be one of the cool girls. After a while I was let into the secret; we got the tests in advance. By accepting, I was part of it. I was told we all had to sacrifice something for the group, pay our dues. After some more time, I was let in on the dark secret. We paid with our bodies.

“Ease the strap off of your right shoulder.” The man instructed.

I could leave. But I’d be ostracized for my betrayal. I’d accepted the cheat sheets, helped make them up myself, I’d been part of the conspiracy and gone to their parties.

I didn’t even need to cheat; I was smart enough to pass my exams. I joined the group to become one of the fancy girls. My new friends were all rich kids, daughters of actresses and producers.

I suddenly decided to just do it. I didn’t want to be a virgin anymore, and my boyfriend didn’t seem to want to close the deal; there was no point in waiting any longer. This was it, time to do it, give it up, be a woman instead of a girl.

I opened the dress and took it off. I wasn’t wearing a bra; my little tits stood naked and proud in the harsh light.

“Turn around slowly.” The man said, “My, you’re a very beautiful girl.”

I did as instructed, knowing he was going to fuck me before I left this place. The man was going to push his old penis into my young body and defile me, he was going to leave his pollution in me.

Yes, it was pre-arranged. There would be no condom. He was certified disease free and sterile, and we had to do it bareback.

The man stood and switched on the overhead light. At last, the big secret was reveled. It was Mr. Lewinski, the janitor. Or custodian as some called him. He was tall, trim, and really old. He had a carpet of white hair on his head, and beady blue eyes that were looking at me with the hunger of a wolf.

He was looking quite dapper in a well fitted suit. He looked more like an investment banker than a school janitor.

I felt an odd sense of relief; I kind of liked Mr. Lewinski. He always smiled at me when I saw him around the school. I wasn’t afraid of old Mr. Lewinski.

Yet.

“You look stunning.” He said appreciatively, as I looked around his dingy apartment.

“My mother says I’m too skinny.” I told him.

“I don’t think so, you have a lovely figure. Have a seat. Can I get you something to drink? Fresh orange juice?”

I sat down stiffly. Partly it was the high heeled shoes. I was also wearing nylons, but weird separate leggings that only came up to mid thigh.

“Sure.” I said

“Tell me about yourself.” He said, “What do your parents do?”

“My mother is in real estate.” I told him, my mind still numb as he poured us two glasses of orange juice. “I never met my dad.”

That was an understatement. My mother had been knocked up when she was a teenager and never even told who did it.

“She must have high hopes for you.” He said, sitting down in another seat on the other side of the small living room. “Do you feel under pressure?”

Was this guy a janitor or shrink?

“Sometimes.”

“I suppose that’s why you joined Gloria’s little group.” He said. “You have a boyfriend, don’t you Haley?” He asked cordially.

“Yes.”

“That tall black fellow you hang around school with?”

“Yes.”

“What’s his name?”

“Martin.”

“And what do you two do together when you go out?”

I hesitated; the question required an answer with more than one word. I wasn’t here just to have sex with him like a prostitute. I had to “Be nice”, “Make conversation”. That was the deal.

“We usually go to a movie or something.” I said, “Or we hang out at home and study.”

“Have you been seeing him long?”

“A few months.”

“That’s a long time at your age. Of course at my age, it’s just the blink of an eye. Have you made love with Martin?”

My throat constricted. How could he ask that?

“We haven’t gone all the way.” I admitted.

“So you’re a virgin then. Do the other girls know?”

I didn’t say I was a virgin, who was he to say that I was a virgin?

“No. They’d all make fun of me.”

“Why would they do that? How old are you?”

“Sixteen.”

“I don’t think anyone should ridicule a 16-year-old for being a virgin.” He said. “So how do you feel about being here with me this evening then? You must be terribly nervous.”

“Well, yes, I am.” I said.

“That’s only normal Haley. Listen, I’ll tell you a secret; June was a virgin too, the first time she spent the night with me.”

“Really? She never told us that.” I said, genuinely amused.

“And she was already 16.” He continued, “But she didn’t mind coming back.”

“Well, I suppose she wanted the tests.”

“Of course she did; but she also probably could have passed without knowing the questions in advance. Yes, she wanted the tests, but she didn’t mind spending the night with me for them. Because secretly, she enjoys it. Most of the girls do, but they’d never admit it.”

I shuddered, thinking about the old guy touching me. He was past retirement age already they said, 67 or something. He had a big pudgy nose and a great square jaw. I didn’t believe him that June wanted to do it with him. If that was true, she could be here every day, be here right now instead of me. She wouldn’t be going out with Dave, or constantly bragging about how big his cock was and how long he could do it.

“May I touch your hair?” He asked earnestly, as if I could say no.

I had to do it. If I didn’t, the girls would beat the shit out of me. They’d throw me out of the group, ostracize me, make my life hell. I’d already been with them for a year, I’d been using the information that the other girls had paid for. I’d made a bargain with the devil, and now was time to pay.

“Okay.” I told him.

He stood up and walked around behind me. He put his hands on my forehead, and then ran them back over my blond hair.

The touch of his fingers on my forehead was our first physical contact. I expected to be revolted, but to my surprise, actually it felt sort of pleasant.

“So beautiful.” He said, “I’ve always admired your hair; the way it falls, so light and natural. I’ve been waiting for a long time to do this.”

“You’ve been watching me? In school?” I asked.

“Of course.” He answered, pulling my hair to one side and gently stroking my neck with his fingertip. “I saw you with Gloria and the other girls. I knew you were part of the group. I knew you would be over here one evening, when it was your turn. Of course you were too young last year. You have to be 16 in this state before you can legally spend the night with an older man. But I was watching you, and I was hoping you wouldn’t cut your hair. I’d like to brush it, would that be all right?”

That would get the finger off my neck.

“Sure.” I said.

He must’ve had the brush prepared, because he didn’t go anywhere to get it. He began to brush, in long strokes, holding the body of my hair in his other hand as he worked.

“Do you have any siblings Haley?” He asked.

“No.” I said.

The brush scraped across my scalp, and his fingers protected my ear, which was a good thing because I was wearing big wire loop earrings that could’ve easily caught the brush. The hands were sensitive, gentle. It was good I didn’t have to look at him, be confronted with the reality. With him standing behind me, there was only the sensation of his hands and the hairbrush. Stroking, touching; stroking, touching. He took my ear between his thumb and forefinger, gently kneading the cartilage. His fingers passed down either side of my neck, the brush placed to the side now, and his hands rested on my shoulders. The strong hands caressed my naked shoulders, and squeezed gently.

I felt weird; his touch seemed to sooth me, the tension in my body and mind began to ease away.

“You have such beautiful skin.” He told me, “Delicate and pale. I didn’t tell June, but you know she’s already ruining her skin by lying in the sun all the time. It drives me crazy when the girls do that, ruining their lovely complexions for fashion.”

“What about Cindy?” I asked.

“But she’s naturally black, brown really of course. It’s not from sun damage.”

“But she lies in the sun too.” I said.

“Yes, but she has more resistance, being brown to begin with.” He said, “She has beautiful skin as well. Thicker than yours, but just as healthy.”

“What was it like? With Cindy?” I asked impulsively.

“It was beautiful.” He said, “I think she’s a sweet, lovely girl.”

“You don’t think she’s a little bit ... weird?”

“No. Why do you ask?”

“I don’t know. She’s never had a boyfriend that anyone knows about, and sometimes she says strange things. I was just thinking, maybe you noticed something about her.”

The truth was that I found the dark girl very attractive, and I suspected [hoped] she might be gay.

“Well, she does constantly talk about Hillary Clinton.”

I laughed; “It’s true! You can’t talk about any subject, and she’ll always end up back at Clinton.”

We swapped some gossip about my friends; actually, I spilled a lot of their secrets to him. Somehow, my little betrayals eased my anxiety. It was small revenge for what I was here to do for them.

He kissed my neck.

His face was really smooth, and his hands were holding my shoulders. And I felt ... this is hard to admit. I felt kind of sexy. It must have been the stockings, the shoes, that perfume Gloria had sprayed at me. Because it couldn’t have been Mr. Lewinski.

“When you’re with your boyfriend Martin, do you make out?” He asked, going back to brushing my hair. I shuddered slightly as the tension eased off. “Sure.” I said.

Martin and I had been getting pretty into it on our last few dates. He was a year older than me, good looking in a negro kind of way, and nice enough. He was a poor kid from east LA, brought in as a ringer for the basketball team. I knew he only went out with me because he needed help with his math. I liked it when he touched me. Held my hand or stroked my arm. Or when he held me tight and kissed me. We made out in the park, or more often at my place.

Alone in my bedroom, I almost gave him my cherry. I could feel his cock through our clothes, pressing between my thighs as he lay on top of me. I knew I had to go to Mr. Lewinski the next week. I wanted to have sex with Martin first.

Everyone was always making such a big deal about it, when a girl should or shouldn’t, who she should or shouldn’t with. Be in love some said; wait for marriage others said. Don’t give it away too cheap, the nasty girls said.

Give me a break; we kids were in and out of love every couple of months. And marriage? Who does that these days? It’s mostly a tax dodge that ends in divorce and acrimony.

I wanted to do it with Martin because I didn’t want my first time to be with the unknown man I’d agreed to do it with. And because I liked him, and it was time. I pushed him onto his back and opened his trousers. His cock was gorgeous; I was totally excited to hold it in my hands [and as you can well imagine, the excitement was reciprocal] I rubbed it around my face, and I felt a powerful urge to take it into my mouth.

All my friends sucked cock, or at least they said they did. Some liked it, some said it was just to get the guy to do something they wanted done, or not do something they didn’t want done [if you know what I mean].

None of my friends had ever had a black boyfriend though. Martin was a status symbol for me; no one gave me shit anymore that I refused to smoke, I studied hard, and I didn’t drink. One look at the huge black boy I hung out with, and they bowed in submission, because that meant I was bader than anyone.

Because we’re all racist, even in 21st century America. When Martin and I hold hands in public, people have to hide their automatic reaction of shock. They’re all thinking; little white girl, big black cock.

I just wanted to try it for a second, just to know what it was like. Because the truth was that we didn’t do it. Everyone assumed we did, because Martin was big and “Bad”, but he never pressured me at all.

It was fab; the feeling, the taste, it was everything I’d hoped for and more. It was ten times sexier than kissing, it was hot, black, and big. I wanted it, wanted it everywhere.

Then he pulled away.

“What’s wrong?” I asked.

“It just doesn’t feel right. It’s too soon.” He said.

But it wasn’t; we’d been going out for months. The truth was he didn’t want a skinny white girl with glasses as his real girlfriend. He just wanted me as his tutor. That was the deal; he played boyfriend for me in school, I got him through his coursework. We were a fake couple.

“You sound angry about it.” Mr. Lewinski said.

“I was.” I admitted.

He sat down next to me and put his arm over my neck, his big hand closing on my shoulder.

“I want to kiss you now.” He said, and I had an overwhelming urge to get away; to get out of that place and go home, to hell with the club, the other girls, all of it!

Then I looked into his eyes.

Blue, blue eyes. Deep, dangerous, irresistible eyes. I froze, my legs were too weak to lift me from the sofa, and then the old school janitor kissed me right on the mouth.

I’d kissed several boys before. This was different. This kiss wasn’t fooling around; it was serious, it was in an apartment, it was a man who intended to fuck me before the night was over.

My body went limp in surrender; I just sat there while he gently, sensuously, kissed my mouth. My lips parted and let his tongue slide in, he only pushed it a short way. His hands held my face, stroked my neck, and then one went to my exposed breast, holding the nipple gently.

The tongue stayed in my mouth as the hand slid down between my thighs, a finger pressing against the panties I was still wearing.

“Ah, you’re wet already.” He said with a smile. His blue eyes sparked with a mixture of menace and reassurance. “I would like to taste you. Please remove your underwear.”

I froze; my breathing stopped too. No, I couldn’t do that! It was too much, I had to get out of there, fast.

He put his hands on my exposed shoulders, and looked into my eyes earnestly. The fear went away as fast as it had arrived, and without further thought, my thumbs hooked the elastic, my ass lifted, and my panties went down my skinny legs.

My knees opened as the old man lowered his greedy mouth to my waiting vagina.

I was horrified, the urge to run came back, his hands on my knees seemed to absorb my fear, and then his tongue struck like a punch in the cunt.

In reality, it was a gentle little lick. Just the tip of a tongue along the slot of my young pussy. A wave of intense icy heat radiated up to my head, and down to my toes. It bounced back to my groin, where the man’s tongue was continuing the exploration of my teenage twat.

My hands grabbed his white head and my hips lifted in tension; I stared down into his double blue eyes as I experienced my first true orgasm. The sensation ripped through my senses, my logic, my thoughts. A wave of pleasure so intense, it left nothing behind.

He pulled away and stood, looking down at me with a happy smile. “The greatest flavor on the world is virgin vagina.” He declared, “Get undressed now, and sit with me.”

He put his arm around my shoulders and kissed my mouth sensuously as his other hand stroked my naked young body. He caressed my breasts, hips, neck, and vagina as his tongue poked around my mouth.

My mind was empty; the noise that was usually there went quiet. I was sinking into a pit of silent peace, contentment, happiness.

But why?

One orgasm? It made no sense.

My hands reached for his belt. My little fingers pulled and opened his pants, reaching for his organ. Yes, I instigated the next phase, I wanted to know what the big secret was, I wanted him to do it to me.

I took it in my hand. It was warm, soft, and dry. It was kind of funny. It was so tiny compared to Martin’s, that it seemed harmless.

“That feels nice.” He said, “Squeeze and stroke it, so it gets hard, that’s a good girl. The thing is Haley, boys who have never had sex can’t even imagine what it’s like, so they have no hope of being prepared. The idea that two virgins are a good match is ridiculous. What you two should do is find older partners for a while, to teach each of you what to do, then meet again. Run your fingers up and down the length honey, that’s the way. Would you like to suck it?”

“I don’t know.” I said, meaning No, I don’t want to suck your old cock.

“Go on, suck it.” He said. “I won’t come in your mouth, don’t worry.”

I looked up at his face; his electric blue eyes burned right through my doubts. He was actually quite handsome, I realized.

Most of my friends bragged about cock sucking, how they liked to make their boyfriends come that way. I bragged right along with them, even though I’d never done it for real.

His cock was big and hard now. It wasn’t as nearly as big as Martin’s though; I learned later on that few men of any color are sized like Martin. That there are big white cocks, small black cocks, straight and curved cocks, some go really tiny when flaccid and some stay almost the same size when soft.

Lewinski’s cock was a bit lumpy, crooked, with big veins visible in it. I felt my throat tightening and my eyes watering. I was so stressed and conflicted that I was on the edge of crying. No! I wouldn’t, I couldn’t! This was too much, a 16 year old virgin couldn’t give herself to a 67 year old pervert!

“Look at me.” He demanded in a deceivingly soft voice.