Chapter 10

Mandy’s turn:

I love being right. I’m right a lot in my little world, which makes it a happy place, mostly.

When we left Bink’s house ... oh, check that. It’s Aunt Barb’s house. We’re going to Bink’s house, AKA Ben’s house AKA MY house. I pushed her into the front seat beside Ben, then when we left, I scooted to the limits of the seatbelt and hovered between the front seats.

“Now tell us what brought that on,” Ben stated.

“Mom noticed that the amount of time I wanted to spend with y’all has jumped up.”

“Well, that’s an observation,” I told her.

“She thought it was because you and I are a thing. Said she knew about that.”

“And here we thought we were being careful. Moms’re magic.”

Bink continued. “She wanted to know if Ben knew, too. I sorta let the cat out of the bag about Ben and us...”

“I’m gonna end up in jail,” Ben sighed. “Bink...”

“I don’t think you have a thing to worry about. I know that Mom did you the first time when YOU were fourteen, that HER first time was when SHE was fourteen, so, like, fourteen’s the magic number.”

“Interesting argument,” Ben agreed.

“She said that you two were better for me than boys or girls my own age.”

“I AM your own age,” I squeaked.

“Ben. She was talking about Ben. Says she thinks Ben’s safe.”

“I guess it’s done now. Two of you...” he sighed.

“We’ll be gentle,” I soothed.

“We need to be serious here,” Ben said. “We’re forming a new household with three corners now. There might be friction.”

“From time to time,” Bink inserted.

“But we LOVE each other and we don’t let things get out of hand or go unsaid until it hurts too much. Bink, I don’t think, you and me, we’ve ever had a fight.”

“We haven’t. And we got our Ben now. He’s been part of us for sooo long...”

“It’s just natural that we end up like this.”

And our first argument was where to eat dinner.

“Celebratory,” Ben said. “So pick a place.”

“Chinese.”

“Italian.”

We both looked at Ben. “Okay, decide, because I’ll drive home and feed you stale bread and old expired store-brand baloney.”

So we compromised and went to a seafood restaurant.

We’re sliding into a whole new lifestyle.

Ben’s not working any more. Last Friday was his last day. This works out well because now he can drive us to school and pick us up afterward. It also means that he cooks. He knows the same dishes that Gramma used to cook, and I love those. He knows how to grill and to barbecue and that there IS a difference. And he can read recipes. We won’t starve, nor will our lives be one restaurant meal after another.

Wednesday after school Aunt Barb came to the house and retrieved me and Bink to go to the beauty shop. It’s haircut time.

Bink hit the chair first. The stylist looked at Bink, looked at Aunt Barb. “What do you want me to do?”

I looked at Bink. “We talked. Show ‘er the picture.”

Bink pulled her phone out of her pocket, poked at the screen a bit, and...

“Seriously? Bangs?” the stylist said. “Barb?”

“As long as she doesn’t spike and dye it green, I’m good.”

“Bangs,” Bink said. “Me ‘n’ Mandy both.”

While they were working us over, Mizz Sara showed up to meet Barb. The two of them took me and Bink to the Food Court for dinner, then brought us home.

When we walked in the door, Ben stopped pushing the vacuum cleaner, shut it off, and stared.

“He hates it,” Bink said sadly.

“Don’t either,” he stated. “Just kind of a shock. You’ve always looked different. Different than this. Different than each other. You’re both too cute to be safe around me.”

He held his arms open. I know that’s for Bink. I know he’s assured that I’m okay. I sent a thought to him. That usually works. Oh, sure, maybe it really IS telepathy. More likely, it’s because of seven billion faces on the planet. We can read each other very well.

Seeing him wrap Bink up in his arms? I think that some girls would be jealous. Not me. Two people I love are loving each other. They’ll both love me like that soon.

“Go sit,” I commanded, knowing he’d hit the recliner and Bink would be on his lap. That’s fine. I stowed the vacuum then came in and piled on top of the two of them.

Which brings up another issue – periods. Maybe that makes Bink a little more sensitive. Hers will start in a day. Mine’s a week behind hers, and I KNOW I have to be careful because between being a brain-damaged whackadoodle and having hormone surges, I can get in a bad place too easily.

I’d already been through a period with me and Ben. This was Bink’s first.

There are issues, like I’m holding his erection and thinking ‘Mandy, this mess will be over in a few days and then you can have it again’. First night, though, I sucked him and jacked him off and sucked him dry.

Next night, we ended up taking a second shower. It’s a mess, but it washes off, but I didn’t think I could get the shock off Ben’s face when I had him fully erect, him thinking he was getting another handjob, and I stood beside the bed, dropped panties and tampon, and mounted him and rode him to my missing orgasm.

That stuff washes off.

Bink was kind of shocked. “Ewww! I hate periods. Just nasty!”

“Yeah, me too,” I said. We’d both made that step into womanhood within two months of each other – her first, then me, and like every other milestone in our lives, we’d discussed it at length. Mom put me on the pill six months later to mitigate my raging hormones. Bink’s mom did because Bink was cute, young, and Barb thought, going to get boy-hungry any day now. Instead, me and Bink dove into each other to stave off the need for boys.

“Until I can marry Ben,” Bink used to tease.

Now I’m mixed in with the two of them. Ben’s pushing his lips through her bangs. Yeah, he hates ‘em.

Later that evening, showered, satisfied, lying on the bed in a triangle, my head next to Ben’s depleted (yeah, right! A few tongue flicks and it’d come right back up) dick, Bink’s head lying on my thigh, her breath tingling my pussy, her own pussy just a few sniffable inches from Ben’s face.

“For two girls with horrible haircuts, y’all wear me out,” Ben sighed. He twisted sideways, kissed Bink on her pubic mound.

Well, if she gets that, I get this. Sometimes it’s not about coming. Sometimes it’s just because you do things that you enjoy and you know will make your partner feel really good. In the last few weeks I’ve learned the exquisite glow that comes from a caress or a touch in the middle of the night. Ben sleeps in the middle between me and Bink most nights, and if he’s on his side facing me, I can spoon back into the hollow his body forms as he curls in repose, and his arm over me, a hand gently cupping my breast, occasionally cupping my pubic mound, that’s wealth beyond measure.

I know Bink gets the same treatment. We’ve compared notes. And Ben’s apt to get gently fondled and cupped and tugged, gentle stimulation, barely enough to break the unconsciousness of slumber, just enough to pierce the veil with the message ‘you are loved and appreciated, even when I sleep’.

So us going to sleep is a final gentle reassembly and arrangement of bodies, goodnight kisses, caresses, then slumber.

There’s an alarm on in the morning. School mornings we handle in a pretty efficient fashion. While Bink and I do quick showers, then dress, Ben’s in the kitchen building pancakes or French toast or omelets and toast.

With no bus to catch, we have plenty of time before we climb in the car and get dropped off at school a quarter of an hour before the first bell for homeroom. That’s where Bink and I part ways. Henkel goes to a different homeroom than Johnson does.

We’re seated in alphabetical order in homeroom. That’s fifteen minutes – roll call, announcements, pass out or retrieve whatever paperwork the education system deems necessary. I can sit in the middle of the herd for fifteen minutes.

“Sharmekia’s back at school,” came a whisper. “Just so you know.”

She’d missed a bunch of days. Apparently I’d messed up her face pretty bad. It wasn’t intentional. Grampa always said that if you’re in a fight, everything’s fair and you don’t stop until your opponent’s out of it. Personally, I’m glad I got pulled off her. I wasn’t in a stopping mood when it happened.

Now? I was very wary when I left homeroom.

First hour’s class is math, where it all started. I tried to tell myself that Sharmekia was surely not going to a) harbor a grudge or b) start something in school again.

I would be wrong.

I get to the classroom early. It’s right up the hall from homeroom and I start out with the morning’s books in my backpack, so I’m in the classroom sitting at my window seat. Mister Benson’s at his desk looking through papers, waiting for the start bell to ring. That’s when all students should be in the classroom. There was a loud crowd coming in the door – Sharmekia and three other girls who weren’t in this class. I guess the ‘street’ term is her posse.

Mister Benson saw it coming just like I did. I stood, Mister Benson loudly demanded that Sharmekia take her seat and for the rest of the bunch to leave. By this time others were in the classroom and three of the other students headed to my defense.