Part 4: Thursday

Chapter Fifteen - Frankie

"Hey, Rosa, will you get a move on? I want to get to school."

"What's your hurry?" she replied.

"I want to get there early."

Rosa grumbled, but she complied. We set out for school early-even earlier for Rosa, as the middle school started 15 minutes after the high school.

"So, what's so important that we get there so early?" she asked as we walked.

"I need to talk to Cassie."

"I talked to Tanya on the phone this morning, said Cassie was weird last night. I also heard about those pictures. That was horrible."

"Yeah. Cassie was weird last night?"

"Yeah, Tanya said she thought Cass was going to start bawling a few times. I guess the pictures really got to her."

"Well, no, I don't think that's it," I said.

"Why, did something else happen?" she asked.

"Yeah."

"Well, what?" she pressed.

"None of your business," I grinned. "Sorry, but it's not."

"Hmmm," was all she said. Anyhow, we got to school, and she found some friends at the middle school who were there early. I, however, wasn't so lucky. Cassie's Mom pulled up and let her off at the last minute. The warning bell rang, and we had to go do the undressing thing right away.

"Hey," she smiled at me. "I owe you an apology. For yesterday."

"Uhm, well, I was willing, so what are you apologizing for?"

"Not that," she laughed. "I meant afterwards. I didn't mean to kick you out, but that's what it sounded like. I'm sorry."

"Don't worry about it." Then, we had to strip and head inside.

I sleepwalked through my next two classes, until history. She sat down next to me and smiled. However, before we could say anything, Mr. Riley, the teacher, came in.

We had been studying World War Two, and were talking about the Battle of Stalingrad. Mr. Riley had this map set for WWII, it was this big series of cylinders that hung from the top of the wall in front of the board. Each cylinder had a different map in it that you could pull down. He had been using the one for the Battle of Stalingrad the past day or so. You pulled it down, and it had a map of Stalingrad and the surrounding areas, crisscrossed with all the troop movements and battles and such.

He pulled that map down today-and I wanted to strangle someone.

Up the top, where it said "BATTLE OF STALINGRAD", Stalingrad had been crossed out, and "CASSIE'S STOMACH" written in below. Around the map with all the troop movements, someone had drawn a stomach and torso and thighs. And they had added more jagged lines in amongst all the troop movements on the map.

I really wanted those two assholes dead.

I looked at Cass, and she didn't look like she was going to cry-which is what I thought I'd see. No, instead, she looked furious.

Mr. Riley was pretty pissed himself. "I want to know who did this! This is inexcusable! Not only did you ruin a map that's part of a set that's very expensive, you also humiliated a fellow student who's trying to do something that takes a lot of guts."

"They didn't humiliate me," Cassie spoke up. "They tried to humiliate me." I looked at her, as did Mr. Riley. She continued. "I know who did this, and they know, too. I also know who did the pictures that were hung up yesterday. I got all upset at those pictures, to the point where I almost dropped out of The Program. Which would've been stupid."

"Because you can't humiliate me unless I allow myself to be humiliated. I have scars. I can't hide them. There they are. What I've learned this week is that some people can see past them. Some people can't. And, if you can't, that is your problem, not mine."

Suddenly, she stood up. She was facing the whole class, but I knew who she was talking to. "Does this disgust you? Why? It's just a few marks. OK, more than a few marks. But that's all it is. It's healed skin. It's skin that was once wounded but now is healed. That's all it is. It's not me."

"This is the good part. Scars? Who cares about scars? I don't have a fucking spleen! I don't have half my right kidney. I don't have about a foot of small intestine. I don't have a right ovary. Think about that one. I want kids someday. A woman only has a certain amount of eggs. I lost half mine before I even entered puberty. I only ovulate every other month. And some of you are disgusted by scars."

"I have had to live with this for nine years. And some of you assholes can't live with it for a week. Well, fuck you. I'm done hiding it. If anyone doesn't like that-well, you all must be perfect. And it's funny, I don't see any perfect people in this room. Keep trying to humiliate me. It's not going to work anymore."

"Someone told me yesterday that I was beautiful. That is what I choose to believe. I'm Cassandra Vyshenko, and I'm beautiful. Scars and all."

Oh, man, if I could've, I would've hugged her right then. As it was, I just joined in with the thunderous applause that spread throughout the class. Including Mr. Riley. The two hyenas not included, of course-but everyone else-even Paul, the guy that had dumped her on Monday.

She sheepishly sat in her seat, blushing, as the applause went on. I reached over and grabbed her hand, and gave it a squeeze-and got a blinding grin for my trouble.

Mr. Riley sent a message down to Mr. Tilling about the damage to the map, then managed to get the class underway. He got through it, mostly, and then the bell rang, and we headed to art.

When we got in the hall, I reached for her hand. "You're incredible, you know that?" I told her. "That was great."

"Thanks," she said, gratefully squeezing my hand. She left her hand in mine as we walked down the hall. "I saw what they had done to the map, and I just got so mad. And I started talking and just got on a roll."

"It was a good roll," I grinned at her. "But I'm glad you finally took my words to heart. You are beautiful. Don't you ever forget that."

"I won't," she said. And then, in barely a whisper, "as long as you're around." Before I could say anything to that, we were at art class.

Chapter 6teen - Cassie

Yes, it felt good. It felt damn good. I got it off my chest, and it felt very, very good.

Missy and Laura? Fuck 'em. They want to keep trying to get to me. It succeeded yesterday. No more. I had other things to do.

And one of them was walking down the hall with me, holding my hand, telling me-again-that I was beautiful. We needed to talk, and badly-but, somehow, I thought it might be a good talk. Maybe I hadn't blown it all to pieces yesterday.

Anyhow, no chance to talk now-it was time for art. Mrs. Taylor called us up to the front.

Her first pose arranged us on the couch. Frankie was on his left side up against the back of the couch. His head was propped up by his left hand. I was in front of him, also on my left side, flat on the couch. His arm was around my waist. It was a very cozy pose.

It was also turning me on, because I felt his dick up against my ass!

Then, after a couple minutes in the pose, something strange happened. As I said, he had his hand around my waist, so it was resting on my stomach. Suddenly, I realized his hand was moving. His fingers were lightly tracing some of the scars. I breathed sharply.

"Does that bother you?" he whispered.

"No," I said. "It feels funny."

"I'll stop, then."

"No, I didn't mean bad funny," I said. And I didn't. As his fingers lightly grazed the scars, my stomach was doing flip-flops like you wouldn't believe. Because he was-- caressing me, is the only word I could come up with. He was caressing my scars. Like you'd caress a dimple or something.

It is hard to describe how I felt right then. Content, warm, loved-hell, I was verging on euphoric. Talk about feeling accepted. I knew he didn't mind the scars. Didn't mind! He was touching them! I was a little stunned. I felt it hard to hold the pose-I was supposed to be looking at the class and smiling. I just wanted to close my eyes and drift off on a cloud.

Mrs. Taylor had us change poses and I didn't want to move. I just felt so content. It was almost like how you'd feel right after a good cum-but I hadn't cum.

She had me lie on my back, my head propped up by the armrest on the couch. She told me to spread my legs, and then she told Frankie to crawl up between my legs.

"Oooooooh!" I said with a laugh.

"No, no, not that," Mrs. Taylor laughed. "This pose is going to be suggestive, but not that suggestive." She had Frankie crawl up further. His hands were on my hips, and his head was hovering above my stomach. "Y'see, that's more of a hint," Mrs. Taylor said. "It looks like he's kissing your stomach. Now, this implies where he's headed, but we don't draw that part-we draw the anticipation." The whole class laughed at that.

"Am I supposed to be kissing her, or just hovering?" Frankie asked.

"Well, it'll be hard to hold a kiss for that long," Mrs. Taylor said.

"Well, if I don't move too much, you should still be able to draw it," Frankie said. And he started kissing me. Little tiny kisses all over my stomach, that he held as long as he could for posing purposes. Little kisses... all over my scars.

Oh MAN. I had to say something to him. I had to tell him how I felt. Unfortunately, this wasn't the time or place.

After about fifteen minutes, Frankie said, "My arms hurt! Not to mention my neck." He had been holding himself up by his arms, hovering over my stomach, and his neck was kind of in an uncomfortable position.

Mrs. Taylor laughed. "OK, relax. Find a comfortable position while we finish up." He flopped onto my stomach, resting his head on it, just lying there. I reached over and stroked his hair. I just lay there in bliss for about five minutes, until Mrs. Taylor said, "OK, guys. Time's up. Frankie, Cassie, you can take a look."

I didn't even bother with Laura and Missy. Who cares what they drew? A lot of them were very good. I liked Amanda's. And Natalie's were, of course, magnificent.

We walked to lunch, and he held my hand again. Again, it wasn't the time or place to talk. I looked at him, and tried to talk with my eyes.

Lunch wasn't the time or place to talk, either-not with the Ed Bauer show going on around us!

Chapter 7teen - Frankie

It was just an impulse. Me tracing her scars with my finger, I mean. I really didn't think about what I was doing. Well, maybe I did. Look, they really didn't bother me. And maybe, when I did it, I had her little speech in the back of my mind. Because she had said that some people could see past them. I really didn't see past them, not in my mind, because to me that implied sort of ignoring them. You know, pretending they weren't there. They were there, and I didn't pretend they weren't-but they didn't bother me. They were part of her-and everything that was part of her was good.

Maybe that's why I touched them. And then, in the second pose, kissed them.

I wondered what she felt about it. In the first pose, when I first touched them-she relaxed, visibly, after she told me that she wasn't feeling bad about it and I kept on doing it. She visibly relaxed herself into me. She couldn't react much more, or we would've blown the pose!

I had to talk to her. I wanted the school day over. I needed to find out exactly what was going on.

I suppose we could've gotten an out of the way table during lunch, but no tables in the lunchroom are that out of the way. So we sat with the usual suspects.

"Hey, Brazil," Ed greeted Cassie, "I hear you smacked a few people in the head with the ol' clue-by-four in History class."

"Something like that," Cassie grinned.

"Let me tell you, it was impressive," I chipped in.

"Not as impressive as the poses I'm getting to draw in art," Natalie grinned. "You should see these two," she told the table. "Even though the poses are pretty innocent, they still put on quite a show."

Cassie just blushed. I was pretty sure I was, too!

"A better pose than I gave you when you drew my naked ass up at bat?" Ed asked.

"No, of course not, sweetie," Natalie grinned at him.

"I should hope not!" Ed said indignantly.

"I can see it now," Lily grinned. "Natalie, five years from now, a young, sought-after new artist. She's having her first gallery show. Featuring seventeen drawings of Ed's naked tush."

"She'll make a mint on them," Ed grinned.

The rest of lunch pretty much went like that, so Cassie and I just got drawn into the rest of the conversation.

The afternoon passed by way too slowly. Then I had baseball practice. Because I was pitching tomorrow, I was allowed to take a light practice. I threw a little, and did my running. Then, done, I asked Coach permission to take off, which he granted.

I ran back to the school building. I was hoping to catch Cassie before band practice ended.

I wasn't disappointed. There was an observation window on the side of the band room, and looked in, and there she was-stark naked, playing the flute. She caught my eye at one point and smiled. About fifteen minutes later, band practice ended. I waited until most of the band had gotten out of the room, and walked in-and there she was, still sitting at her chair. The rest of the stragglers, and her band director left, and it was only the two of us.

"Hi. We need to talk," I said.

Chapter 8een - Cassie

Here it was. Do or die time.

"Yes, we do," I agreed. "Can I go first?"

"I suppose." He sat down next to me.

"Look, I am really sorry about what I said yesterday, when we were done. It was stupid, and I'm ashamed of it. I was feeling awkward, and I panicked."

"You weren't the only one feeling awkward," he grinned. "It's OK. The question is, where do we go from here?" He sighed. "I don't want to lose your friendship."

"Well, I have to admit, I don't want to be friends anymore." He looked at me. "I want more." There. I said it.

"That's what I want, too," he said softly.

"You DO? I wasn't sure."

"You weren't?" I asked. "Cassie, I don't make love with just anyone."

"Yeah, I know-but it's been awkward since then. I wasn't sure what you were feeling."

"I wasn't sure what you were feeling, either," he said.

"This is what I'm feeling. I love you." There, now I really said it. "I figured that out before we ever went to bed. And I'm sorry that I didn't say that yesterday."

"Better late than never," he grinned. "I love you, too, Cass." I grinned back at him. "I'm still worried, though."

"Why?"

"Because relationships don't always last. If this blows up in our face, there goes another good friendship. And I can't help but being a little worried that I'm not what I would've considered your type before this week."

I sighed. "One thing this week, and baring myself as I have been, has done, I think, is make me grow up... Let's face it-I've been dating little boys, and I mean mentally. And I suppose I was a little girl myself mentally. I mean, look, the two people that I thought were my best friends have been acting like eight-year-olds all week." I grinned at him. "You're no little boy, not with your family. You haven't been for quite a while. And I've been through too much this week to be a little girl anymore." I smiled at him. "This hasn't happened before this because I wasn't ready. I'm ready now. Frankie, it's not going to blow up in our face. Not from my end. How do you feel?"

"I talked with Lily about this," he told me, "and she said some similar things about her and Mike, how she wasn't ready for him before either. As for me? Look, you might say you're a 'little girl' but you matured dating-wise far before me, and you were already dating before I ever would've been interested, so I never let myself become interested. It took a lot of thinking to decide if I felt anything more for you than friendship. It was a leap I had to make in my mind." He grinned at me. "What I found was it was a pretty easy leap to make."

"Good," I grinned. "It hit me all at once."

"I just thought of something," he said. "Tanya is going to freak."

I broke up laughing. "Yeah," I agreed. "I guess she saw it before either of us did." He grinned at me, then stood up. He pulled me up to my feet, then wrapped his arms around me-and kissed me, long and deep.

I broke the kiss and said, "Let's get out of here."

"Where are we going?" he asked.

"My house. Nobody's there again." I grinned at him. "And you thought I was kidding about being insatiable."

"Oh, look, I get a girlfriend-and she's a horny teenaged boy's dream. How cool is that?" he laughed.

I laughed back. Then we practically raced to my house.

Chapter 9teen - Frankie

We got to her room-still naked-and I wrapped her in a kiss as we tumbled on to her bed.

"No quickies today," I told her. She smiled at me. I kissed down her neck and went right for her boobs, nibbling on them while I stroked her thighs. She moaned and gasped underneath me. Then I started kissing my way down from her boobs.

I kissed my way down her stomach, and I took my damn time. I ran my tongue right down one of the more prominent scars. She giggled.

"Tickles?" I asked.

"A little," she said. "That was not a suggestion that you stop, by the way. I've never let anyone get near my stomach, you know that." Her voice dropped a little. "So I never knew how sensitive it was."

"Ah," I said. It was turning her on. How about that? Not that she wasn't turned on in the first place, mind you. I just kept kissing my way down her stomach. Heading closer to paydirt, I took a little detour-to kiss the heart-shaped scar on her thigh. She let out a long sigh when I did that.

Then I headed straight for paydirt. This I hadn't done to her. Honestly, I hadn't done it much at all. Like I've said, though I'm not a virgin, the most experienced guy in the world I am not. But I had done it, a couple of times, and more or less knew my way around down there. It must've been more rather than less, because I had her squealing and moaning in no time at all. As I felt her movements get more frenzied, I slipped a finger gently into her pussy. BAM! Off she went!