When the blonde walked into the bar, she took my breath away. Elegantly dressed in deep blue, she looked like someone stopping by on her way to a dinner date. Which perhaps she was, if I wanted to and was willing to pay. She looked around and broadly smiled when I waved. It didn’t take her long to make her way to my back corner table, with its overstuffed chairs and cozy feel.

I stood. As she approached, I couldn’t help compare her to Tracey. This woman was much older, but she’d aged well. I guessed she was in her forties but could pass for early thirties. They were both about the same height and build, though Tracey had been bustier. Her hair was straighter, but close enough to the same shade to pass.

She stopped about a foot away. “You must be Terry,” she said, her voice confident and strong above the low din from the scattered drinkers.

“And you’re Lisa?”

She nodded. I gestured toward the chair opposite the small table from me. Her eyes sparkled as she sat.

“I have a card for you,” I said, and pushed the envelope across the table. The one with the five crisp one hundred dollar bills between the cheap Hallmark phrases.

She looked at it and raised an eyebrow. When I nodded, she gathered it up and slid it into her purse without a second glance. I was impressed that she didn’t feel the need to check.

“So,” she said, “you’re a friend of Ethan’s.”

I nodded. “Long time friends.”

Ethan had been the one to recommend the very private agency that Lisa worked for. I had my ear to the DC rumor mill as well as anyone and I’d never heard a whisper about it. If he hadn’t invited me to that Redskins game...

She raised an eyebrow pointedly and waited.

“Um, okay. We’re mostly business associates. I’m not sure he’d call us friends, but I certainly think of him as one.”

“He did call you a friend,” she said, “but that he’s only known you three years. Is that ‘a long time’?”

I snorted. “In my world, it is. Most of my colleagues can’t see past the next election. Besides, Ethan and I’ve gotten close since Bush was re-elected.” Many long nights drinking our sorrows after that...

She read the disgust in my face and the corners of her mouth turned up. “You must be high enough up to care.”

“I’m not that high up,” I said. “I mean, I know people who are high up, at least on the Democratic side, but, you know, Ethan and I worked hard ... for nothing.”

“Maybe for nothing,” she said. “Maybe not. Anyway, I understand you have something specific you’re looking for.”

“Uh, yes...”

The waiter showed up. Lisa ordered a Long Island Ice Tea and then turned back to me with a smile. I asked for another scotch. She waited patiently.

“Well,” I said, “what did Ethan tell you?”

“Only that you had a specific request.”

I let out a deep breath. I’d been worried for a while that Ethan might gab about my secret obsession. But then, given some of his comments, I was sure he had his own. He’d just been the first person to notice I was watching the sidelines more than the game...”

I looked around quickly to make sure no one could hear. “I want you to dress as a cheerleader,” I said.

Her eyes danced in amusement. “I can do that. But is that all you want?”

I looked at her, confused.

“Many women can do that, for much less money,” she said. “Our agency ... well, we do more than costumes. We try to fulfill the client’s real needs.”

“I don’t get it.”

She shrugged in acknowledgement but didn’t explain. “Why a cheerleader?”

“It’s, um, a little unfulfilled fantasy of mine.”

“Little?”

The waiter returned with our drinks. I took a sip to soothe my nerves and collect my thoughts. I recalled what I’d told Ethan. You told him, why not tell her?

“Well, big really,” I said. “Closer to a fetish. I’ve been obsessed with cheerleaders since high school.”

She grinned. “Now we’re getting somewhere. What happened in high school?”

“It’s a long story.”

She leaned back in her chair. “I’ve got time.”

I nodded. “Back in high school, well, um, I went to a small school, you see, and all the cheerleaders were really hot.”

“They often are.”

“Yeah, well, I played football. Not because I was any good, but because any kid who tried out made the team, you know? Like I said, small school. I was the wide receiver nobody threw to.”

I snorted at my own sorry memories of Homecoming my freshman year. My first target, my first dropped pass. My subsequent benching for Big Alex, of all people. In front of everyone.

“Anyway,” I said, “we had these long bus rides to games. Coach didn’t care what we did in the back on the way back as long as we were quiet. If we lost, which was most of the time, he was in front sneaking drinks from his ‘special’ water bottle.”

“The cheerleaders were on the same bus?”

“Yeah. Small school, remember?”

“So you had sex on the bus?” Her voice sparkled with amusement.

“I didn’t. At least not full sex. But some of the other kids did. And I got to watch.”

“Really?”

I nodded. “Short skirts, sitting on her boyfriend’s lap. If she’s quiet, a cheerleader can get away with it.”

“Ah. Go on...”

I took another drink and began my story.

Everyone loved Tracey Wisenhunt. Besides being pretty and friendly, she was kind, and her kindness infected the other cheerleaders. When I was sitting forlorn on the end of the bench after having dropped that pass at Homecoming, she came over and said it was okay, and that I’d get the next one. Her boyfriend Mike, our running back, came over and echoed her words. Later, Megan, one of the other cheerleaders, did too. It took some of the sting out of the day.

I don’t know what made me do it, but the next Monday I saw her struggling with her books and I offered to carry some for her. We got halfway to her English class before Mike appeared.

He smiled good naturedly. “I’ll take it from here, champ.”

Tracey thanked me with a twinkle in her eyes, and then gave me a kiss on the cheek.

I was hooked.

For the next several days, I ran into Tracey whenever I could. Mike seemed amused at the way I puppy-dogged her, but he just ruffled my hair and joked that it was nice that someone else thought his girlfriend was wonderful. I blushed, but that didn’t stop me from eagerly waiting outside her classes all week.

I knew she had a boyfriend. I knew that as a freshman, I couldn’t possibly compete with a senior for her affection. I didn’t want to—I just wanted to be near her. I wanted her and Mike to like me.

And apparently they did. As we boarded the bus after our next away game—another loss—Mike motioned to me.

“Hey Terry, Come sit with us.”

I blinked, but hastened to the back of the bus with them. We squeezed three into a seat, with me on the aisle, Mike in the middle.

“Look,” Mike said once the bus started to move, his voice pitched low, “Tracey and I want to fool around, and we don’t want Coach to know. Can you keep an eye on him and warn us if he starts coming back?”

I nodded vigorously. As the ride home started, I kept my eyes flicking back and forth from Coach, who never moved, to Tracey and Mike, who passionately made out.

To my surprise, I wasn’t jealous as I watched them kiss. More fascinated, by the way she sighed and fluttered her eyelids, by the way she brushed locks of her hair out of the way. Once, she looked straight at me, but her eyes were so glazed with passion that I was sure she didn’t actually see me.

“Mmmm,” Megan said from across the aisle, about halfway home. When I turned, she grinned at me and waggled her eyebrows. “You’re watching Coach?”

I nodded. She slipped inside her boyfriend Carl’s arms. Moments later, I got to listen to soft whimpers of pleasure in stereo just underneath the chatter from the kids up front.

The bus bumped along the dark state highway, and my eyes adjusted to the gloom. Coach had his bottle in hand; his head sagged against his chest. Slowly, a tangy scent built until it could cut through the pervasive grimy sweat odors.

I looked down. Mike’s hand moved under Tracey’s short cheerleader skirt. She rolled her hips in response, her thighs slightly parted, surrounding his wrist. It dawned on me what I was smelling, even though at fifteen, it was a completely new sensation.

My cock stiffened in my pants.

Megan’s soft mewls on my other side only made my blood race harder. I became lightheaded in the adrenaline, but I remembered my charge—watch Coach. He glanced back only once. Like a good soldier, I waved and kept my mouth shut. He grimaced, but shrugged and returned to his drink. All my attention returned to memorizing every sound that entered my ears.

About a half mile from home, Tracey’s whimpers turned to muffled cries. I couldn’t help but turn and watch as she shuddered and shook, her face buried in Mike’s shoulder. When she looked up, she met my eyes. Hers were glazed in pleasure. Mine were filled with awe.

I didn’t masturbate to the memories for almost a day.

The next away game was much like the first. With a nod, Mike invited me to join them. He said my presence kept Coach from getting suspicious. We again took the last seats, with me on the aisle. This time the seats directly in front of us filled up with other couples. Kids further up the bus glanced back from time to time, envy filling their faces. Apparently, word of the opportunity had gotten around.

Tracey and Mike picked up where they’d left off. Kisses. Caresses. Hands under clothes. Tracey came twice, both times with her head buried in Mike’s shoulder.

Megan was bolder. I watched her slip her panties off from under her skirt and give them to her boyfriend Carl. After he’d tucked them in his pocket, she straddled his lap. Hands fumbled out of sight and then she started slowly raising and lowering herself a few inches. They continued to kiss and she kept at it until her breathing turned heavy and her head sagged. No one seemed to notice but me.

Or maybe it was just that no one cared. The nearby couples were engaged in their own surreptitious pursuits. Coach remained lost in his own world at the front of the bus, perhaps dreaming of a better job or a win.

We actually did win one of the next two games, both of which were at home. I even caught a pass in the second and made a first down before being tackled. Tracey gave me a congratulatory hug after. None of them invited me to the party at Megan’s later that night.

Yet there was a knowing smile on Tracey’s face when I showed up at her class to carry her books. Mike’s eyes twinkled at me when we ran laps at the beginning of practice. As a freshman, I could never be part of their crowd, but with the unspoken looks, I knew I was in.

Our final game required a two hour trip through fields of corn and wheat. To everyone’s shock, we won. I even scored a touchdown on a blown coverage by their defense. I’d like to say it was the winning touchdown, but the score wasn’t that close. Just before we started home, Coach had the bus stop at Tastee Freeze and he bought us all ice cream.

It seemed only natural to sit with Tracey and Mike and Megan and Carl. We licked our cones and huddled close together on the worn wooden picnic table, while the cold November breeze burrowed through open buttons and raised goose bumps on the girls’ exposed legs.

Mike noticed the fervent way I ate my ice cream. “You seem pretty happy to have that cone,” he said, “even in this cold.”

I shrugged and licked around the edge. “It’s the only reward I’m going to get tonight,” I said. “Not like the rest of you.”

Tracey’s face pinkened, but Mike and Carl just guffawed.

“It’s true,” I said, looking at Mike. “You’re lucky. You’re with the most beautiful girl in school.” I turned to Carl and nodded at Megan. “And you’re with the most exciting.” I took a long lick of my cone. “I’m just a freshman.”

“You caught a touchdown today,” Tracey said.

“Yeah. But who didn’t? I’d trade places with any of you in a heartbeat.”

Before anyone could reply, Coach called out that it was time to get back on the bus. We grabbed our coats and trundled toward our usual seats.

Coach didn’t even hide his bottle this time. I’d heard a rumor that he had a job lined up in Wichita in the spring, and maybe he didn’t care. He joked and laughed with Kyle, our quarterback. The couples in the next-to-last seats turned to their own make-out sessions. I savored the cold creaminess on my tongue as my friends on either side nestled in close and exchanged quite murmurs of affection I couldn’t quite hear.

When I finished my cone, I glanced to the side. Tracey and Mike kissed passionately, his hand far under her cheerleader skirt. Her panties peeked out of his jacket pocket. Megan’s head bobbed in Carl’s lap, her hair obscuring anything else. His eyes met mine and he grinned. Megan didn’t look up.

I shifted in my seat and adjusted my stiff dick in my pants. Coach continued drinking and laughing up front.

Tracey whimpered and buried her face in Mike’s shoulder. His arm thrust forward and she shuddered.

Carl groaned quietly and bit his lip. As I watched, he stiffened, and pushed his hand down into the seat hard. He only shook a little.

When Megan looked up, she smiled and wiped her lips.

Tracey stifled a cry. My head whipped around just in time to see her shake and gasp as her orgasm took her.

No one else in the bus looked back.

I slumped in my seat and stared at the ceiling of the bus while my friends cleaned up and talked low together.

“Hey, Terry.” Mike elbowed me. “Do you want to switch?”

“Huh?”

“C’mon,” he said, “switch seats.”

I didn’t understand, but I stood. He slid behind me and I plopped back down between him and Tracey.

“I’ll watch Coach,” he said.

I stared at him blankly, and he motioned toward his girlfriend. When I looked at her, she smiled.

“I won’t kiss you,” she said, “but you can touch.”

My brain failed to process what she’d said.

She took my hand and placed it on her bare thigh. “It’s okay,” she said. She spread her legs slightly.

My eyes went wide in surprise. I looked questioningly at her. She nodded. I turned to Mike and he nodded too.

Tracey pulled my hand closer to the edge of her skirt. I took a deep breath and slid it forward myself.

The tightness between her thighs surprised me first, as I couldn’t rotate or move my hand much the way she was sitting. Then I noticed the heat. Despite the cold of the bus, Tracey’s flesh baked my knuckles. I wiggled my fingers and felt softness, and wetness, and ridges and folds I couldn’t identify without remembering biology class.

“It’s okay,” Tracey said. “I won’t break.”

I was too stunned at this amazing gift to reply.

Instead, I looked down at my wrist, mostly obscured by her skirt. I watched the sinews tighten and shift as I moved my fingers. I concentrated on memorizing every wonderful sensation—the slickness of her juices, the smell of her arousal, the way her breathing changed as I caressed up and down.

Slowly, my anatomy lessons came back to me. I parted her labia with a fingertip and stroked a bit lower. When her lips spread, I pressed in. To my surprise, I soon found my finger buried deep within her.

Tracey whimpered and her eyes fluttered shut.

I curled my finger and with my thumb I probed for her clit. She squirmed, and her breathing remained shallow. A contented smile filled her face.

A commotion on my other side yanked my attention away from my goddess. Mike and Megan had switched seats, leaving me sandwiched between the two cheerleaders.

“It’s okay if she doesn’t come,” Megan said. “Mike will take care of her later.” She reached for the snaps of my jeans.

Startled, I pulled back and my finger slid out of Tracey. With wide eyes, I watched as Megan extracted my cock from my pants. She spit on her hand and started stroking me. I gasped at her touch.

“Taste her,” Megan said, with a nod of her head toward my now-free hand. Tracey’s juices glistened on my skin in the low light.

“Go on,” she urged.

I turned to Tracey who just gave me a beatific smile. As she watched, I popped my finger in my mouth.

Tart, metallic, slippery, amazing. Like honey without the sweet. I savored the flavor.

Tracey’s hand joined Megan’s in jacking me off. I gasped at their combined touch. In moments and without warning, I exploded. Stream after stream of white semen poured out of my dick and coated their hands. Megan laughed and pulled back. One of the guys passed her a gym towel and she began cleaning us up and then passed the towel to Tracey. I just sagged in my seat—stunned, happy, gratified.

Then Megan reached under her own skirt. She wiggled her hand around and then held her finger under my nose. The heady scent almost caused me to come again.

“Here,” she said, “taste me.”

I opened my mouth and she slid her finger in. I sucked for a moment and noted how different she was. Sweeter, more fragrant. Still amazing.

She pulled her hand back and grinned at me. “There,” she said. “You’re only the third guy to taste both of us.”

“And without you, there wouldn’t be any,” Tracey said with a smile.

I was too mind-blown to know what to think.

So the girls cursorily cleaned me up and tucked me back into my pants. Then we shuffled back to our original seats. If the kids in front of us noticed, no one said a thing. Coach remained clueless at the front of the bus.

None of us spoke for the rest of the trip. When we arrived back at our school, Tracey, Megan, and their boyfriends headed off together in Mike’s car.

Tracey blew me a kiss before they left.

Later, back in school, I continued to carry Tracey’s books for a few weeks. She and the rest of them remained friendly, though with football over, conversations and interests turned to other things. My neighbor Tommy got an Atari for Christmas, and I started hanging out more with him. Tracey only wore her cheerleader outfit to school a couple of times for basketball games, but since I didn’t play, all I saw of it was what she wore in the halls. That was enough to keep the fantasies going.

I went to graduation that year. Tracey and Mike were both happy to see me, though Megan gave me the biggest, longest hug. She and Carl had broken up a month earlier when college acceptances had come in. He hadn’t gotten into Nebraska and she had. They fought about their future together and he made some vicious comments that ended up simplifying her decisions.

“Should’ve invited you to our parties,” Megan murmured in my ear during our clench. When we pulled apart, my eyes went wide. Hers darted to Tracey and Mike. “Maybe at Christmas,” she said, low enough to not be heard by the others. “I’ll talk to them.”

When December rolled around, I waited and waited, but the phone never rang. Later, I learned that Tracey and Mike had eloped when she got pregnant. Megan had gotten an internship in Lincoln. None of them every came back to our little town.

But that didn’t stop me from fantasizing about them, nearly every day, for years to come.

“That was your first sexual encounter?” Lisa asked. Her eyes sparkled with amusement.

I nodded. “I didn’t lose my actual virginity until I was 18, with my girlfriend at Prom. We started dating about halfway through my senior year. She wasn’t a cheerleader, though. We broke up after we went to college.

“Because she wasn’t a cheerleader?”

I shook my head. “Other reasons. But my ex-wife ... yeah, that was part of the problem.”

She cocked her head to the side and waited.

“We’d been married for twenty years when I finally told her about my, um, fetish so to speak,” I explained. “She got upset.”

“It seems pretty harmless.”

I grimaced. “Yeah, well, when I said I wanted her to dress like a high school cheerleader, what she heard was high school, not cheerleader. And when she found the pictures on my computer...”

Lisa’s eyebrows went up. “Underage?”

“Ambiguous. I’ve since deleted them, but...” I gave a defeated shrug.

She smiled. “I think we can work with this. Though obviously not tonight, since I’m not dressed for it.”

I chuckled. Only I could make an elegantly dressed woman in a high end bar be out of place!

“Do you have a specific timeframe in mind?”

I shook my head.

“Then let’s talk about other things,” she said as she took a sip of her drink, “and I’ll let you know when I have things set up.”

I relaxed at the implied acceptance of my proposal.

She raised her glass. “To good cheer.”

“Hear, hear.” We clinked glasses and I settled back in my chair, already looking forward to sex with this woman.

To my surprise, Lisa contacted me the next morning. From her tone, and the way she’d mentioned something about ‘finding a uniform that fit, ‘ I hadn’t expected to hear from her for a few days. When I returned the call, she put me on speaker and introduced her boss, Sherri.

“Hello,” a smooth alto voice said. “Lisa told me quite a story about you. She was impressed.”

I blushed. “Well, um, I’m not sure what to say.”

I could hear the amusement in her voice. “It’s okay. What we were wondering is ... do you want something more fulfilling than what you asked for?”

I furrowed my brow in confusion.

“If you just want an evening like you originally requested, we’ll understand,” she went on, “but hearing your story about the bus, we thought, well, you might like something that addressed the heart of your interest.”

“Which is?”

“Your ongoing, ah, interest in certain forms of dress. I think we could arrange something that would help bring that interest back down to normal levels.”

I sucked in my breath in frustration. “I’m still confused.”

“Can we speak freely, or would you prefer to discuss this in person instead of on the phone?”

Ah. She’s being discreet. “You can talk freely,” I said. “I’m at home and no one can overhear.”

“Oh, good. Well, you have a minor fetish for cheerleaders. Lisa would be happy to play that role, but we thought you might like a more involved scenario—an enjoyable one—that could possibly lessen the attraction of that fetish.”