Chapter 1

Fifteen years after giving birth, Morgan Reisman was still a party animal. It was one of the things Lilly found most annoying about her mother — topping a very long list. She would come home drunk, long after Lilly had gone to bed, dressed in clubbing attire that was frankly unholy on a forty-year-old woman. The only thing unholier was that she pulled it off — come to think of it, Morgan didn't look a day over thirty.

So she would come home drunk, on the arm of some guy (it was a different guy every night.) And then, with a token and ultimately meaningless "Shhh, my daughter's sleeping", they would go to bed and screw. For hours and hours. With colourful exclamations and lots of screeching and bumping and sounds Lilly didn't really want to know about. She could rarely get to sleep while all this was going on.

And so, an exhausted and sleepless mother wound up driving her merely sleepless daughter to hockey practice at six o' clock in the morning. "Do you hafta have these every day?"

"Yes, mom," Lilly replied curtly. "The tournament is in two weeks."

"So why you gotta practice now?" Lilly rolled her eyes. Of course, Mom has never planned ahead for anything more than her next lay.

The car swerved into the next lane, and then swerved the other way, clipping the sidewalk. Lilly gripped her seat for dear life, thankful that there wasn't anyone else on the road. "You know mom, you have to be at work in three hours anyway. Why do you always stay up late and party?"

"Why not?" she said with a laugh. "Lilly, you're so square. You're a teenager, live a little!"

"I am living a little. I'm going to that party Friday night, remember? You're forty, and you have a daughter," Lilly said curtly. "Most people stop with the all-night parties by then."

Morgan laughed. "Girl, the only way you're going to stop me from partying is if you tie me down." It's never "hon" or "sweetie" with her, it's always "girl" or "Lil" or something. All of my friends think she's so cool and hip for a mom, but to live with it all the time... it's like that drunk chick you barely know who keeps following you around.

Morgan and Lilly did not look completely different — in fact, they were very similar. It was looking at the same person, only they had taken two different paths. They both had pale alabaster skin, but Morgan's was touched up with makeup while Lilly's was sweaty and freckled. They both had reddish-brown hair, but Morgan's was long and flowing while Lilly's was cut short to stop it from dragging her down. They both had firm, round breasts — but Morgan's were large and attracted lots of attention, while Lilly's small tits hid beneath her shirt, barely visible. The only thing Lilly seemed to inherit from her father, whoever he was, were her piercing blue eyes.

The car pulled into the parking lot of the small arena. Lilly hopped out, sports bag slung over one shoulder and backpack over the other. "Okay, I'll see you when I get home tonight." She slammed the door shut, and Morgan wheeled out of the auditorium.

Of course, she was late, and most of the team was already on the ice. She quickly got dressed and headed out, coasting over to Kate. "What's up?"

"Not much. Coach is just having us do shooting drills now... basic shit."

"Sorry I'm late. I had to practically drag my mom out of bed. Up all night again."

Kate laughed. She was next in line, so she skated up and took her shot, which our goaltender Shannon deflected with the casual arrogance she was known for. "I wish I had your mom. My parents still won't let me take the bus anywhere. Think I'll get raped or something."

Lilly felt the anger of a pet peeve flare up, but kept a smile on her face. "Trust me, you get tired of it quickly." She skated up and, with careful preparation, took a shot, which lifted off the ground and landed in the top corner of the net. She could hear Shannon swearing from halfway across the rink.

"Fuck, Reisman," Kate spat. "How did you get so damn good?"

"That was just a lucky shot," Lilly shrugged.

"Well, whatever it is, you've got a lot of lucky shots in you."

Kate had been Lilly's best friend for about six years now. The two of them had met in sixth grade, by virtue of being the only girls who wanted to play sports anymore. That was pretty much them right now — sporty, outgoing, approachable — the type with lots of boy friends, but never any boyfriends. So they kept each other company, always leaving one shoulder open to cry on.

"So, are you going to Claire's party tomorrow?" Lilly asked.

"Not unless it's under threat of death," Kate said with a smile.

Lilly hesitated. "Well, I am. She asked me to come herself."

"Really?"

"Yeah. I thought it was just everyone on the team, but..."

Claire was the dream girl of every asshole teenage boy. Long blonde hair, big tits, big ass, cheerful but not too bright, and with a sweet smile that convinced you that despite the fifty-eight other guys she made out with in the past two years (but never fucked, oh no, poor innocent Claire could never fuck), you were the one she really liked.

She was also miraculously good at hockey — as good as Lilly, who had been playing since she was five and practicing daily. If she actually put some effort and work into it, Claire would be called a prodigy — of course, she would also lose some of the fat on her tits, so of course she wouldn't do that. As it was, she came to just barely enough practices to stay on the team, and annoy everyone else with her casual skill and dismissive attitude.

In short, Lilly was <u>not</u> a fan of Claire.

"Guess not. Why would she invite you? You're still one of the stupid ugly dykes, right?" Kate asked with a slight smile — although Lily could tell there was some hint of resentment beneath it.

"Who knows? I wouldn't go, but Ryan is going to be there and... you know..." Ryan was Lilly's current crush. He was your typical class clown, and a track star — he hang around a lot with Lilly's guy friends, despite being a year younger. He was also really cute. Of course, I don't think he's ever so much as looked at me, but...

Kate laughed. "Yeah, I get it. Well, try to survive."

"Can't promise you anything. You turn your back on those pretty girls for a minute and snap, you get your head taken clean off."

Lilly had just turned sixteen, and as such she didn't have a license yet. After pleading desperately, Claire had agreed to tell one of her friends to swing by Lilly's place and give her a ride. It was a carpool thing. The ride would probably be hell, but it was better than getting her mom to drop her off.

Speak of the devil. Morgan was strutting her way through the front hall as though it was a catwalk. Her outfit consisted of a leather top which covered only the small of the back, but managed to extend all the way up to just past her nipples. Of course, if she so much as arched her back her tits would fall out but hey, that was probably the way she wanted it. The bottom was a dark red mini-skirt which barely reached her thighs.

"How do I look," Morgan said, running her hands over her outfit.

"Like a hooker who's trying too hard."

"Thank you!"

Herself, Lilly had more normal clothes on — jeans and a blouse. She didn't get dressed up, or slutted up for that matter, for much of anything. It was one of the few things her mom nagged her about. "Now, are you going to wear that to the party? You look like you're going to school. How will the guys notice you?"

Lilly said the stock response, the rah-rah-rah girl power one. "If they only notice me when I'm wearing a short skirt, I don't want to do anything with them anyway."

Morgan just laughed. "You're too serious about all of this. Go out, have a little fun. Tell you what, no curfew."

"I never have a curfew."

"And do you ever thank me for that? No!"

Lilly rolled her eyes. They had been through this conversation so many times that they were just acting out their roles. It was completely pointless. Lilly would never start showing skin, and Morgan would never stop acting like she was twenty-one, and they both knew it.

A loud honk from outside broke up the recitation. A trio of girls who looked like knockoff imitations of Claire were outside, idling in a fancy car which looked like it had just rolled off the lot. "I've got to go. I won't be out too late."

"I will!" Morgan said cheerily.

By the time Lilly got there, the beer was already flowing like a river. She didn't exactly mind, since the ride up had almost given her a headache. The girls — she hadn't bothered learning any of their names — thought they were cleverly hiding their bitchy comments, but they really weren't.

All in all, it turned out there were three people Lilly knew at the party. One was Claire, who she only admitted to knowing as an unfortunate accident — and vice versa. The second was a girl who had been her best friend in middle school, but after a truly epic fight they still weren't talking, three years later. The third was, of course, Ryan — the main attraction.

Unfortunately, she wasn't the only one who thought so. Ryan had brought his guitar (guys like him always played guitar) and was strumming along somewhat tunelessly, but adorably. There was a crowd of girls surrounding him. Of course, he was sitting not two inches away from Claire, who was gazing at him with what her mother had taught her were "bedroom eyes".

Of course, the one person who actually would talk to her was Ryan's friend, Jeff. Jeff had scruffy red hair and an angular face which almost challenged you to find it attractive. In fact, he had been following her around since she got there, rambling on about his banal existence. His stories pretty much amounted to Ryan doing or saying awesome things.

Lilly might have felt sorry for him if he wasn't quite so annoying. He obviously had a big crush on her. She also realized why Claire had invited her along — so that Jeff would go and bother her, and leave her and Ryan alone. (Well, except for Ryan's other loyal groupies.)

Great. I'm a cockblock-blocker.

The club was an endless expanse of leather, flesh, and strobe lights. It was early in the night, but Morgan could feel the sexuality and desire oozing off the dance floor — most of it caused by her. She got almost as turned on by this part as by the prospect of sex afterwards. Every time she slunk away from a guy after quickly giving him the hard-on to end all hard-ons, she felt a jolt of self-confident arousal.

I'm a bitch, I admit it... but I'm a damn sexy bitch. Morgan found herself pressed between two guys, thrusting her body back and forth to the techno music. She writhed between the two men, pressing her breasts up against the first guy as she ground her firm ass into the other's crotch. She reached behind to casually fondle his hardness. Hmm, a big one there... I'll have to keep him in mind.

She mouthed "later" to the men and slipped away, spiraling into the arms of a girl who probably wasn't old enough to be here. Morgan smirked and squeezed the girl's ass and she smiled. The smile said if you want to walk on the wild side a little, I'm game. Morgan hadn't been with a girl in a while, so that might be nice.

Morgan broke away, and slid towards the new guy on the dance floor. She would only go home with one guy (or girl) tonight, unless she found some that were particularly adventurous, but she wanted them all to remember her.

The new guy was of obvious Eastern European stock. His black hair was gelled back in a look which blurred the line between "mobster" and "sex symbol". He had a handsome face and a muscular body, and was dressed in tight clothes to show it off. Morgan recognized him instantly.

"Derek," she purred. "It's a nice surprise seeing you here. Looking for a nice young drink?"

"Nice to see you again too, Morgan," he said, a ghost of an accent on his voice. "And yes, I was hoping I could find a young girl who falls for this face... but then you showed up."

"I'm flattered. You're not that old yourself, Derek."

"Yes, but I like someone who knows her way around a bed."

"Well then, you just hit the jackpot."

Lilly had wanted to leave an hour ago, but realized that she couldn't as she was sharing a ride with the bitches. She would call a cab, but she had no money. So, it looked like she was stuck there until morning with the mouthbreather Jeff. At that point, drinking was not an option. It was necessary.

"So, that's what, your third beer?" Jeff guessed.

"Fourth," Lilly said, slightly slurring her words. She noticed that the party had mostly devolved into a bunch of couples making out, and guessed Jeff hoped she would go along with the trend.

"I like beer drinkers. Seem more genuine."

"And they're cheaper dates," Lilly joked.

Jeff guffawed. "Yeah, that too." Lilly found herself giggling. Booze makes everything funnier.

And then, the inevitable. Jeff glanced over to the couples making out seemingly all over the place. "They sure seem to be having fun."

"I guess."

"So, do you want to, uh... join them?" Jeff winced almost immediately after he said it.

Lilly did the best eye daggers she could. "Nice try." She took another sip of her beer and looked over the revelers. When she saw that they included Ryan and Claire, the girl running her hands over Ryan's back and ass like she was stealing it, Lilly clenched her fist. Why does he like her? She's a total bitch!

Wait... maybe if I just pique his interest a bit... make him think he can't have me... This plan sounded perfect in her head. "Actually, you know what? What the heck."

Jeff looked as though he had just won the lottery.

Morgan had barely gotten out of the car and Derek was on her like a rabid beast. He pressed his mouth to her neck and kissed it hotly, his tongue dancing across her collar. Morgan groaned at his expert tongue at the same time she snaked a hand under his shirt, caressing his lean muscles. "Mmh, impatient..."

"Don't know if I can make it up to your bed," Derek said with a reckless grin. That grin engulfed Morgan's sly smile, and their tongues met each other, madly smacking and rolling between each other's mouths. Derek's hands grabbed her ass, separating them from the car they were pressed against and rolling the globes in between his hand. Of course, this curved her crotch right up against the stiffness in his pants, too which she "ooh"ed affectionately.

"Who says we have to go inside at all?" Morgan said with a mischievous smile. She spun Derek around and, as though they were dancing a waltz, bent him over the hood of the car before straddling him, and descending upon him with her lips.

Morgan kissed Derek's temple, and traveled down his face with her sinuous tongue, licking at his lips and then softly suckling his neck. When she reached the hem of his shirt, she impatiently unbuttoned it, marveling at his toned torso. She zeroed in on his nipples, kissing and suckling them. As her head moved down, so did her body, sliding down the car and his torso like a snake.