Chapter 13: Staying Occupied

Patricia 'Trish' Morgan knew that she really didn't have a right to expect much out of life. Her face wasn't exactly plain, but it wasn't really pretty either. She wore glasses to correct her nearsightedness. It was pointed out to her time and again that she could be prettier if she would only learn to apply her make-up a little better or choose clothes that were a bit more stylish. Her one attempt in high school to change had ended in disaster.

Life in high school is like a huge gyroscope. And everyone has a place on the spinning wheel, and their location on that wheel, relative to the locations of everyone else on that wheel keeps the giant wheel spinning and balanced. If anyone ever tries to change their place on the wheel, it becomes unbalanced and wobbly and threatens to tip over and upset everything. So everyone else on the wheel either needs to shift their locations as well in order to keep things balanced, or they have to force the person who moved back onto their place. After all, why should they move just to accommodate someone else? They were warm and happy in their places on the wheel, and so they focus their energies on forcing the offending party back into their spot on the wheel so everything can be balanced and normal again ... and just to be certain that they never try that shit again, they reach over and hammer them down for insurance and to teach a lesson to others who might want to change their place on the wheel.

That's what happened to Trish when she showed up to school one Monday morning with fresh contacts that she was still getting used to so her eyes were a bit watery and red. That made her mascara, which had been applied a bit too heavily run. And to top it all off, she really should have stuck with her usual nondescript dress instead of looking through the fashion magazines without bothering to learn the various and sundry nuances to style and accessorizing. By the time she got to school that day, she had looked a bit like a raccoon that had been dressed up in the bargain bin at Woolco.

When a group of chickens gets together, if one of the chickens has a blemish, another chicken will peck at it. After a while, other chickens will see that chicken pecking at the blemish and join in. Before very long, the blemish is a sore and the sore becomes an open wound. Unless they're stopped, those chickens will peck that poor blemished chicken to death. And that's what happened that Monday. When Trish showed up looking like she did, It didn't take long at all for the more popular girls to descend upon her en masse, and a pecking party ensued. Trish spent an hour crying in a locked stall in the bathroom until the girls outside left to go to class. Then she quietly went home, took out her contacts, wiped off her makeup, and put on her old clothes and glasses.

When she went back to school the next day, everything pretty much went back to normal except for two things; every once in a while, one of the popular girls would say something to hammer her more securely onto her place on the wheel, and Steve Hadley came up to her while she was hiding in the library and spoke to her.

"Hey," said Steve.

'Oh my God, Steve Hadley!', thought Trish. In her heart she knew this couldn't be good. Steve Hadley had a reputation for cruelty. She was certain that he only came by to make fun of her. She wanted to tell him to go away; but his body was so muscular. He was built like a wedge and that long hair down to his broad shoulders! He looked so powerful and dangerous that she went weak in the knees just seeing him pass by. So, she wanted to tell him to go away. Instead it came out, "what do you want?"

"Just wanted to sit down and talk,", said Steve as he slid into a chair on the opposite side of the table.

"What did you want to talk about?"

"I just wanted to say that I think it's pretty shitty what those girls did to you yesterday."

Trish couldn't believe her ears. Steve Hadley was being nice?

"Thanks ... I guess."

"Just try not to listen to them. They only do that because..."

"Hey Steve!", said Candy Appleton as she walked by. "Slumming today are we?"

Steve looked at Candy out of the corner of his eye. It was a look that caused a shudder to course through Trish's body. When she was just beyond the table, Steve looked at Trish and smiled.

"Hey, Candy! I'm curious, why did your parents give you that name?" He never even turned his head to her as he spoke.

"Why do you care?", said Candy.

"I've just always wondered how a parent could look down on their new baby and realize she was going to become a whore or a stripper and give her a name to match."

"I'm not a whore or a stripper!" protested Candy.

"Well not yet," replied Steve, still not deigning to turn and look at her. "But you never know what you can be until you apply yourself." He winked at Trish, who giggled.

Candy stood there for a moment trembling with rage ... how dare he say that? How dare she giggle?

"Fuck you, Steve Hadley! Fuck you too Trish Morgan!"

"For how much?" Steve called to Candy as she stormed out of the library. Trish erupted into gales of laughter. In that one instant, everything that had happened yesterday seemed to disappear. Fate had cast a life preserver to a drowning Trish Morgan in the form of a muscular, dangerous, make you cream your panties, Steve Hadley, ... and, in that one instant, Trish decided to cling to that life preserver for all she was worth.

As far as Steve was concerned, he couldn't give two shits for either Trish Morgan or Candy Appleton. But he could spot an opportunity when it was right under his nose. Were he called upon to explain the dynamics of high school society, and how they relate to the workings of a gyroscope, Steve would reply, "What the fuck is a gyroscope?" But that doesn't mean that Steve was ignorant about things either. He just didn't care to learn how to articulate what he knew instinctively. And what Steve Hadley knew better than anyone else in that high school; better than anyone else in that city probably was the dynamics of power and how to use that power to get what you want. He knew that, after yesterday's brutal experience, what Trish needed above all else ... even more than a drowning person needed a gulp of air, was a friend.

Steve had the patience of a spider and this morning, when he spied Trish Morgan heading into the library, he knew she would be in there in an attempt to hide from the others and lick her wounds. What he intended by sitting down at the table across from her was just to be the opening gambit. The first move of a pawn on the chessboard. A lot of guys would have sat next to her, but that would have violated her personal space when she was so vulnerable. It would have gotten her defenses up. Better to sit across from her and show her a friend. Time was, after all, on his side. And then that stupid cunt, Candy Appleton had walked by and said what she said. Steve had only moved a pawn on the board but, by the time Candy stormed out of the library crying, the board looked like all of his bishops, rooks, and knights were deployed and the other side only had the king and a couple of pawns left standing. What Steve had originally calculated would take a week or two to accomplish was now right before him, thanks to Candy Appleton. He could kiss the stupid bitch ... if he were into showing appreciation.

"So, " said Steve raising his eyebrows in a show of boyish hope, "wanna get out of here?"

"Where to?" Trish didn't even hesitate. She had sipped from the heady cup of sweet revenge and now was drunk with desire for more. She'd only spoken with Steve Hadley for two minutes and already she'd had more fun and excitement than she'd known all year.

"Your folks at home?"

"Yes," said Trish a little guardedly.

"Mine aren't." said Steve flashing a smile. That smile melted every defense Trish even though about putting up. Today marked a turning point in her life. No more would Candy and those other girls make fun of her. They wouldn't dare. Steve Hadley was going to be her boyfriend!"

When they got to Steve's house, Trish was fully prepared for the big muscular defensive tackle to treat her as he would any quarterback or worse and just plow right into it. She had already decided to trade her virtue for the attention that Steve was willing to bestow upon her. So she was surprised as hell when he kissed her sweetly. She returned his kisses ... and allowed herself to think that maybe ... just maybe ... Steve Hadley saw something in her that others didn't ... something that she didn't even see in herself! The kisses became an open-mouthed tongue dual, and Trish became more urgent in her needs and wants for this to progress than Steve seemed to be.

It was completely within Steve Hadley's nature to rip every stitch of clothing off the stupid cow he was playing with, ram his cock in and out of her until he'd sated his lusts and then leave her by the wayside. But, when he saw the way those other girls had torn into Trish yesterday and had demolished her self-esteem. He saw an opportunity to have something his father had. Steve's mother had left long before Steve was old enough to remember even what she looked like, so Steve grew up under the tutelage of a man who treated him more like a drinking companion than a son. Over the years, several women had shared his father's bed, and they all had one thing in common ... they all put up with his father treating them like dirt. Jake Hadley could drag a woman around by the hair of her head, make her suck his cock, swallow his cum, and beg him for more.

"The trick is, to find the right one ... not like I did with your mom. I went for looks then. She wouldn't put up with this shit." Jake explained to his son as his the girlfriend's head bobbed up and down on Jake's cock. "What you wanna do is find one that's fuckable but not all full of herself. Then you set about making her into what you want."

Under his father's tutelage, Steve had learned that women enjoy sex just as much as men. But, if the man acts like she's doing him a favor, the woman will use sex to get what she wants. "You gotta act like you're the one doing her a favor,", said Jake. "When you fuck 'em the first time, " explained Jake, "you don't make it about you. You make it all about them. It's like when a dealer wants to get you hooked, he gives you the premium stuff. Once you get that cherry high, you'll put up with stuff that's cut with rat poison hoping to get it again ... and every once in a while, you give 'em the premium stuff ... not so they can see any pattern. If they see a pattern, they know how to manipulate you. You might as well kick that cunt to the curb and go find you a new one to break in."

By the time that Steve was fourteen, father and son time usually meant double-teaming his father's current girl. Jake let them know in no uncertain terms that he expected them to teach his son how to be a first-rate cocksman. "I want him to know how to fuck a girl right,", said Jake ... and Jake's girls were only too happy to comply. Steve was a younger, prettier version of his dad; muscles that rippled across his big body and a dangerous tinge to his demeanor that left them wet in his presence ... the quintessential alpha male.

All of these lessons were fully ingrained in Steve as he allowed Trish to hump herself against him, in urgent need. He slowly peeled away he clothing and was happy to see she had a decent set of tits under that baggy dress. Her body was flabby but not fat. He'd see that she worked on that to please him ... not anything overt ... just little comments here and there to let her know that he'd be happier if she improved it ... just a little. When she reached that goal, he would move the goalpost. The object wasn't to have her attain any real milestone; it was to keep her off balance, always looking for a way to please him. The comments couldn't be overtly cruel either ... nothing he couldn't explain away as him joking and, in the process, point out that maybe she was a bit too touchy and petty ... and then ... every so often, not so there's a pattern, and certainly not in response to anything she'd done to please him, he would reward her ... lavish her with praise ... tell her how wonderful she was ... make her tingle all over ... make her almost frantic wondering what she did to deserve it and trying with all of her being to earn it again. Steve smiled wickedly to himself as he lowered the naked girl onto his bed and bent placed his mouth on her sopping wet pussy. One of his dad's girl's had taken special care to see that he had an accomplished tongue. When Steve's lips closed around the little bud of Trish's clitoris, he could feel her tense up tighter than the E string on a violin. He smiled again to himself as he set about to play Trish Morgan like a Stradivarius.