Chapter 39:He’s my boyfriend

Lucy stepped around Michael and looked Janine in the eyes, something she would normally have had to look way up to do. Her voice was low. “He’s called Michael. You’ll want to remember that or you’ll never get his nice, thick cock in you.” She stalked off in the direction of the dining room where the dancing was happening. Michael blinked a couple of times, smiled as sweetly as he could at Janine, and trailed after Lucy.

“I’m going to have enough trouble hanging around your crowd without you pissing off the Prom Queen,” he thought at Lucy.

She glanced at him with a look of irritation mixed with a plea for forgiveness. “Sorry, it’s just that Janine’s been getting on my tits since I was old enough to have them.”

Michael grinned and swigged back the last of his glass of punch. “Now there’s an image I could conjure with,” he said aloud and, taking Lucy by the hand he pulled her into the crowd of people attempting to look like they could dance.

The third number was a slow one and Lucy made a point of pulling Michael in close as they shuffled around the other couples, swaying slightly. Her mound rubbed against his cock, he could feel her nipples pressing against his chest through her dress on the thin fabric of his best shirt. “These shoes were a mistake,” she whispered.

“Feet hurting?”

“No, but I want to rest my head on your shoulder and I’m too tall.”

Michael chuckled. “Never mind. I’m enjoying having my chin resting in your cleavage.”

“Do you like the dress? Slutty enough?”

“I am enjoying the dress; every other boy in the room is enjoying the dress, but the girls…”

It was Lucy’s turn to chuckle. “You’ve never seen some of the stuff that goes on in the girls’ locker room.” Michael felt his cock twitch; so did Lucy. “Feels like you’d like to see some of that stuff.”

“What red-blooded male doesn’t like to see naked cheerleaders?” he replied. “It’s the American way.”

The dance ended and Michael could feel the alcohol from the punch getting to him. “Let’s get some air,” he suggested, and they walked out into the garden. The summer night was warm, but there was a light breeze that swept cooler air into Michael’s lungs, making him feel less dopey. It also stirred Lucy’s hair in a manner that made him want her again. He followed her down the garden, watching her hips sway.

They arrived beside a pool that was sunk into the lawn. The only light came from the submerged lights, but Michael could make out a little pool house at the far end. Some of the kids had brought swimwear with them and a few were in the water, though none appeared to be swimming. Mostly they were paired off, talking or smooching. The various seats around the garden were also occupied with necking couples.

Lucy let out a soft moan. “God I need you inside me,” she hissed under her breath. Then her face fell. “Oh shit, not Brian!”

Michael felt a lumpen hand land on his shoulder and he looked up to see Brian Graham grinning down at him. Brian was six-foot-five of muscle with enough brain cells to keep his bulk moving and that was about all. Still, he had a real genius for defensive plays and it was very likely that he would hook a sports scholarship. “So, Peters, how come you’ve managed to hang on to this little beauty all night?”

“He’s my boyfriend, Brian,” Lucy supplied, the expression on her face shrieking distain.

“That doesn’t mean you can’t give the rest of us a dance,” Brian replied with a leer.

“I’d rather not have your grubby hands on my ass this time, Brian. I think I’ll skip the pleasure. Why don’t you go rub up against Jan?”

“Aw, come on, Lucy, you know you want to.”

“I don’t think she does, Brian,” Michael said quietly, turning so that he was facing the hulking football player. “Why don’t you leave her, and me, alone?”

Brian was not used to anyone smaller than him standing up to him, particularly not someone like Michael. He jabbed his finger into Michael’s chest, making the smaller boy stagger back. “You gonna make me?”

It was a show of strength, not really a threat. In the part of his brain that was being rational, the part that was, in fact, sensing Brian’s surface thoughts, Michael knew that Brian would not push it to a fight. Unfortunately, several other parts of Michael’s brain were acting on years of suppressed anger at being pushed around by oafs like Brian Graham. His hand shot forward, palm open, so that the heel of his hand struck Brian squarely in the breast bone. There was a rush of air from Brian’s lungs and then he was flying backwards into the pool.

There was a sudden feeling of exhilaration. Then, when they realised that Brian was floating on the bottom of the pool, thrashing wildly, there was a feeling of pure terror, and Michael was running. He dived into the pool and grabbed the footballer around the waist, heaving him toward the surface. Still submerged, lungs screaming for oxygen, Michael pushed Brian up onto the edge of the pool, standing on the bottom to do it. The punch had been fuelled by anger, but the extra power now came from the cool, calm realisation that he did not want Brian to die.