The End Of Jessica Munroe. Part 5 free porn video

The click clack of stiletto heels on concrete was a sound that had become all too familiar to Art. Where it had once thrilled him, a constant reminder of his daring midnight trips out, it was now normal and ordinary. He spent as many nights wearing them as not wearing them these days. Still, he enjoyed it all the same. He was wearing his black ankle boots, the ones he had worn when he first left the house all them months ago. It was a warm evening, no need for tights. Instead his legs were newly shaven and on show, reaching all the way up to the hem of his short dress. It was a long way up. It was a very short dress. He had bought it for the party especially, the party that he hadn't even been invited to. The party he was soon to crash anyway. When he had first seen the dress he knew it was the one, the one to keep all eyes on him, boys and girls. It was grey with a marbled pattern. The shoulders of the dress were open, revealing his bare skin to the summer air. The neckline was high but hugged the padded curves of his bra tightly. The stinging, plumping chemcals of the nude lipgloss he wore had done their work, his lips looked fuller and rounder. He had overlined them intentionally. These were blowjob lips and Art knew it. His eye make up was striking and smokey, warm browns and blacks rimming the white of his eyes. He had plucked his eyebrows into sharp, angular, arches. He had never plucked his eyebrows before. This was important though. This time he had to do things properly. He would deal with the consequences another day. Tonight was all about showing her, Jessica Munroe, that she couldn't keep him away. She couldn't ignore him anymore. She wasn't the only girl on the block. There was an air of finality about the night. Art knew he was taking a huge risk here. He knew that now, more than ever was an opportunity to be caught, to be paraded in front of the whole school like a freak. He knew all this and yet he was still going, still marching on towards the party. He hadn't even deliberated on wether to go. This was something he had to do. Art rounded the corner to be greeted by the bright lights of the Munroe household. He couldn't tell how many bedooms the house contained from here but it was clear it was a far sight more than his own, simple semi detached home. He clenched his teeth a little. Of course she would live in a house like this. Stealing himself, he clutched his handbag strap tight and started up the long, long driveway too the front door. The sounds of thumping bass music and laughter wafted their way down towards him. The party was already in full swing. Art was fashionably late. He wanted to make an entrance. Two boys and a girl sat at the front door to the house. Art recognised them from school immedietly. They were popular students, not the level of Jessica and Linton, not popular enough to earn Art's hate but they were popular enough. Art began to throw his hips a little as he approached the door. Time to get into chracter. One of the boys noticed the new girl that sauntered her way up the driveway first. He jumped off the ledge he was sat on, almost as if he were about to say something. The smile and smokey look that Art shot him stopped him in his tracks, the words caught in his throat. The other boy, whose arm had been draped across the shoulder of the girl they were with, dropped it to his side as he too watched Art stroll past. Art turned slightly as he entered the front door, his behind grazing slightly against the second boys leg. On the other side he kept eye contact with the boy who still couldn't find his words. He ignored the girl. He didn't have to look to tell she was watching him, seething. His dress, his make up, his attitude had made her jeans and shirt combo seem very ordinary. Art was certainly in character, and he played the part well. The party was as loud and as full as Art had expected it to be. Everywhere he looked people were propped up against walls, sitting on the stairs or leaning against expensive looking cabinets and furniture. The interior of the house was well presented if a little tacky, Art thought. I guess it was to be expected from the Munroe's. There was a distinct smell of sweat and cheap, teenage deodrant. All around Art drink was being drunk. Little red cups littered the floors and surfaces, a parody of an American college movie. Art began to squeeze his way past. He had had a few shots of his own at home but he needed alcohol, now. He was sure he could find someone to provide him with some. As he made his way through the crowd, dodging some, touching others quite intentionally, he began to feel the eyes on him from all quarters. The rumours of a red haired girl who was willing to suck off any guy had circulated quickly around the school. Art had watched himself as his legend had been written by the boasts of the lucky boys and the whispered bitching of the girls, and now here she was, in the middle of everyone. He had wondered how he would react.Would he lose his nerve? Leave and abondon all his plans. It had been a real worry for Art but here, amongst all these people who knew him by everything but his name, he didn't feel scared or anxious. He felt big. He felt powerful. For the first time in his life, amongst his classmates and peers, Art was a somebody. The hungry eyes of the boys, some of whom Art recognised from his late night calls, and the jealous eyes of the girls that followed his movement through the house only served to confirm it. The kitchen was just as loud and just as full of the rest of the house. The majority of the party goers were cradled around the kitchen island in the middle of the room, the top of which was littered with half drunk bottles of spirits, empty beer cans and even more red cups. Art leaned against the frame of the door, scanning the room. His eye was caught by a group of girls in the far corner, girls Art recognised as being friends of Jessica. They were all gathered together laughing, drinking. The familiar burn at the back of his neck. The girls only parted for a second but a second was enough. There she was at the head of the group, make up perfect, hair falling in soft golden waves, a low cut dress that showed off ample cleavage. A dress that Art could never wear. Jessica Munroe. Art breathed in sharply, pushing his chest out. This was it. Now or never. The crowd around the kitchen island parted as Art approached the available drink. Conversations paused and drinks were held at chest height as boys and girls stopped to stare at the new arrival. Art knew they were looking but he wasn't going to give the the satisfaction of letting them know that. Calmly he reached across the table towards a red cup and a bottle of cheap, supermarket vodka, standard teenage house party fare. He poured himself a cup, a large cup before setting the bottle back down. Coke next and then finished. He still hadn't looked up at the staring crowd around the table, not until he took his first sip. There it was, over the white rim of his plastic cup, the look that Art felt he had deserved for a while. The look from Jessica Munroe towards him. A look that asked "Who the fuck are you and what are you doing here?!?" Art stared back. Jessica wavered. She turned to her friends, asking acusaitory questions of them. Art didn't let his gaze drop as he supped his drink. Jessica glanced back. She made a movement with her arm towards where Art stood. He still did not move. The liquid burned the back of his throat but he still did not move. Jessica stretched to her full height, she steadied herself. Art knew that look. She was coming over. This was it! Finally the confrontation Art had been asking for. "Hello there, beautiful." A large hand landed on Art's left shoulder, tugging hard, spinning him around and sending a large amount of vodka and coke falling to the floor. "What the hell are you doing here?" "Hello Doyle." Art stared up at the hulking figure of the taller boy, his heavy browed, smirking face looking back. The hard tug and spin that Doyle had metered out had shaken Art's composure. He quickly regained it, reverting to the confident girl he was playing tonight. "I heard there was a party happening. I thought it would be rude of me to miss it. Got to see my boys." "Well, as long as I'm your favourite," Doyle laughed. Art held him by the sides and slowly but firmly span the two of them around, back towards where Jessica had been stood. There she was, no longer approaching, held back by her gang of sycophantic girlfriends. Clearly, as much as she didn't want this new girl here she was still hoping to avoid the potential embarrasment that ejecting her in front of a crowd would bring. Her eyes were still trained soley on Art. He smiled, to himself mostly, partly at her, letting her know he was staying. That he was getting under her skin. A victory. "You know you are." Art returned his gaze back up towards the stupid, vacant eyes of Doyle. "But you did spill all the drink I just made," "What? Oh shit!" Doyle seemed genuinely aggreived. Art pouted a little, for effect. "I didn't realise." "That's Ok. I guess you don't know your own strength-" Doyle grinned a big stupid grin. "Just make me another one." He placed his hand gently against Doyle's broad chest, letting it sit there for just a moment, ensuring that Doyle was his to command for the rest of the night. If Art had been more aware of himself he would have been alarmed at how quckly he had embraced the flirtatious nature of being a girl. It was all too natural to him now, but he wasn't aware. Right now, none of his attention was centred on himself. It was focused on one girl. The angry, glaring girl across the room. She had never, ever noticed Art before. Now he was all she could look at. In this crowded noisy room two people were completely together in being at complete odds. Art loved it. Art was sat up on the kitchen work top, a drink in one hand and the full attention of a group of boys in the other. They stood in a semi circle around him, each vying for his full attention. Art revelled in it. He had them running errands for him, fetching drinks and snacks. Across the kitchen girls huddled together, abandoned by the boys they were with. If the puppy dog devotion of the boys fed Art's ego, then the green, envious looks from the girls were a perfect side order. Through the big open window, on the brightly lit patio at the far end of the kitchen two people caught Art's eye. One was Jessica. The other, was the tall, dark figure of Linton, his shoulders slumped and his face turned away as he was scolded by his angry girlfriend. Her arms flailed wildy, gesturing towards the window, pointing sharp fingers towards his chest. What was this about? Art had never seen Jessica this animated at school, never this furious. It was him. It was all him. He knew he had got to her but not to this level. The perfect, flawless Jessica Munroe was shaken. Another girl had come into her domain, her den, and stolen her thunder. The boys were no longer interested in her. They were all focused on the red haired beauty inside. A beauty who was willing to be just as much of a slut as she was, if not more so. Art desperately wished he knew what they were saying. Was she asking Linton to remove him, too scared of causing a scene herself? Typical. Just like her to ask him to do that. If she had a problem with Art, she clearly did, it was her responsibility. Her fight, not Linton's. Or maybe it was something more. The stories of Art, his willingness to go with any guy were well known across the school. Art had never been with Linton. He didn't even know if he could. As it was he had never received a text asking for a hook up, never once heard of Linton boasting about having been sucked off by the girl with red hair, but Jessica didn't know that. She wasn't asking anything of Linton. She was accusing him, jabbing her finger at him. Art felt a pang of anger in his chest. How dare she? Linton had never once shown any interest in cheating on her, and yet here she was belittling him, tearing him too shreds over it. Art's face flushed red, if only for a second. "Ally! Ally!" Doyle's eager shouts snapped Art back to his immediate surroundings. "What do you say? Wanna try it?" "What?" Art had completely zoned out of the conversations that were continuing on around him. "The, y'know, stuff. You can have some of mine," Art considered Doyle again, quizically. "For free, upstairs in the bathroom. Now if you want." Art emerged from the well tiled, white and pristine bathroom. The back of his nostrils stung, his throat burned. He coughed a little trying to dislodged the flem that had caught there. Tonight was truly a night of firsts. The first time he had ever plucked his eyebrows, the first time he had ever seen Jessica Munroe lose her temper and now the first time he had ever tried cocaine. His head buzzed and hummed. The noise of the party seemed muffled somewhat but the joints in his limbs seemed more alive than ever. His vision was clearer, his blinking more rapid and his heart beat thumped in his ears. The door shut behind him as Doyle too emmerged from the bathroom, his eyes just as wise, his blinking just as fast. He placed a hand on Art's shoulder and spoke, not too Art. Not to anyone really. "I'm gonna go and get a drink." With that he turned and left, lumbering heavily down the stairs. Art watched him leave, thoughts whizzing around his brain. They were a lot clearer than he had expected them to be. Odd thoughts strayed to the front of his mind then shot back before he could ever really focus on them. What was he doing, taking drugs, wearing a dress? God, he loved the feeling of his own shaved legs. When would Doyle be back? He stood there, in the noise and heat of the party, quite still, just thinking. He barely even noticed the hand that gripped his wrist tight and dragged him into a small room, up a second flight of stairs and into a dark, well presented bedroom. The door locked behind him. A lamp was switched on, orange light shooting across the bed and desk and walls. Across a face. An almost perfect face, if not for the anger etched across it. A face framed by golden waves. "Why are you here!?" Jessica asked, a fair question. "Why are you here at my party? You were never invited, so why the hell are you here!?" Art didn't say anything. Instead his wide, open eyes took in the room around him. The walls were cream, dotted with tastefully framed pictures that Art couldn't quite make out. The desk was well kept and tidy, save for the open text book. A large four poster bed dominated the far end of the room. It took Art a few seconds to realise just where he was. This was Jessica's bedroom. He knew boys that would give their right leg to get to Jessica Munroe's bedroom and here he was, invited. Dragged, but invited all the same. He considered the girl stood in front of him, her breathing a little heavy, her arms folded across her breats. Her face was furrowed and angled, her eyes glaring. One of those fleeting thoughts that Art couldn't seem to focus on shot through his mind. This was the most Jessica had ever said to him. Finally, she had deemed him worthy of speaking to, a no one like him, and all it had taken was a dress and make up and a few guys spreading stories about him. He was a someone. She had brought Art to her, alone. In this room, they were equals. "Why am I here?" Art tried to speak slowly but he found he couldn't. His words spilled out past his lips. "I'm here because you tried to keep me out. You got scared about another girl getting a little attention, so you didn't invite me!" "What?" Jessica seemed incredulous. "I don't even know you!" "No?" Art had to laugh at that. "No of course you don't know me. You don't know anyone other than your own little circle. Linton and Doyle and the girls who pretend to be your friends. You're Jessica Munroe! How could you ever know me?" "Should I know you?" Jessica took a half step back, Art, a half step forward. "It doesn't matter," He paused, as best as he could in the midst of the stream of conciuosness. "You know me now! Now that I'm a someone! I made myself a someone!" "What the hell are you talking about?" Another step back. "A someone." Art was shouting now. His heart thumped in his ears. His higher pitched, feminine voice never slipped. This was as much his voice as his own now. "A someone just like you! I set out to prove that anyone could be like you, that anyone could steal your light from you!" Art could feel his face growing red, his voice getting louder. If the music hadn't been so loud itself, and this argument not happening behind two locked doors and up a flight of stairs, someone might have been alerted. As it was, they were all alone. "Holy fuck! You're insane!" Jessica seemed genuinely concerned. She had locked herself in the room with this mystery girl in the hope of confronting her, making her leave. It increasingly felt as though she was the one trapped, not the other way around. "I don't even fucking know you!" "YES YOU DO!" Art snapped. He was no longer shouting. He screeched the words at Jessica. How dare she. After the all the work he had put in she still couldn't see it. She still couldn't see what he had done, how he had won. How a nobody, a little boy, had changed his appearance, his manners, himself to become the number one girl in school. "I've been there every single day! You just never saw me!" Jessica moved first. She made to step around him, suddenly desperate to leave the room. Art side stepped into her path, his eyes wider than before, filling with the unfamiliar chemcals that sloshed in his brain. Jessica moved back the other way. Art moved as well, teetering in his heels a little. Jessica made a grab for the key to the door, her escape, that sat on the corner of the desk. Art grabbed her wrist. He wasn't about to let her go, not until she acknowledged him and everything he had done. She yanked her arm back, wrenching at the grip. Art moved with her. His other hand grabbed at her other wrist. The two stood, grappling in the middle of the room, Jessica pushing, Art resisting. He may have been wearing a short dress that revealed his long shaven legs, dark, smokey make up and heels, but Art was still a boy. He was stronger. However much Jessica pushed she could not get past. She edged to the left a little, trying to throw Art's balance. It was no use. Art countered, swinging the blonde girl around him, throwing her towards the bed. She landed on the soft, brushed cotton sheets heavily, her face pointing upwards and her arms spread above her head. Quick as flash, Art was on top of her, straddling her waist, both hands around both wrists pinning them against the bed. She looked up at him, eyes wide with fear, as he moved his face down to within an inch of hers. She stopped struggling, the manic look in the eyes of the girl on top of her freezing her in place. "You see, Jessica." Art spoke softer than before, the words still leaving his mouth faster than usual. "I'm the number one girl in this school. The top fucking bitch! The boys, they all like me now. I've shown them there is more than one fucking slut around here, and this one will go with whoever, whenever." "Slut?" Jessica seemed genuinely surprised. If she hadn't been so scared it might have shown across her face a little more. "What are you talking about?" "I give the boys what they want. I can do things that I doubt even you could. Any boy in school would die to get into my mouth, to feel my tongue on their cocks, to kiss..." Art paused. He looked down at the panting mouth of Jessica below him, formed into an open O. "...my lips." He lowered his head, pushing hard against Jessica's, ramming it into the bed sheet. The waxxy feel of lipstick on lipstick was a new sensation to Art. This was, after all, the first time he had kissed a girl. His tongue forced its way into Jessica's mouth, searching, just how the boys liked it. The muffled squeals from Jessica made it all the sweeter. "Get of me, you freak!" Art relented, needing air more than anything, "I'm not like you! I'm not a fucking slut!" "Yes you are!" This really was desperate tactics from Jessica. "Everyone knows it." "No I'm not!" Jessica had now regained a little fight, her arms struggling in vain against the grip Art had over them. "Everyone thinks I am but I'm not!" "You're Jessica fucking Munroe! Of course you are! Everyone knows it, Jessica Munroe who has boys following her everywhere, teachers who do her homework for her. You are just a stupid bitch who thinks she's better than everybody else! All you have is your fucking arse and your tits! You're a stupid slut, and everybody fucking knows it!" Art was screaming again, his voice high pitched and angry. He held on tight to Jessica's wriggling body. He had been somewhat amused by Jessica's assertion that she wasn't what everybody knew her to be at first, but now it was annoying him. Of course she was a slut. Tears had begun to form in her eyes, smudging her perfect make up a little. Art was happy to see it. "I'm not! I'm not what everybody thinks I am!" Jessica was wailing now, her eyes screwed up, turned away from Art. Pathetic. "I can't help it if boys like me. I can't help the way the teachers look at me! They're grown fucking men and they perv at me like I'm fucking trash!" "YOU ARE TRASH!" Even Art was a little taken aback about how loud he was shouting. "You're trash! You're stupid!" "I'm not fucking stupid!" Jessica's eyes shot open. She turned to face Art through red, puffy vision and stopped struggling. She seemed calmer, resigned. "I'm not stupid. Look." She jerked her head towards the wall beside the bed. Art gazed across at the rows and rows of frames, each one containing a certificate, a results sheet, an end of year assesment. Art squinted his eyes a little, trying to calm the dark, angry fuzz in his head. All A's. All of them. Not a single mark below an A. He didn't turn back towards Jessica when he spoke, preffering to scan across what was in front of him. "Obviously you get A's. You've got the teachers in your pocket." "The teacher's? These are all marks from external examiners," She spoke slowly, her breaths deep and sobbing. "Whoever marked these papers, I've never met them before in my life." Art paused. His grip around Jessica's wrists loosened a little but not enough to let her go. He tried to poke a hole in the logic. She was Jessica Munroe. She was dumb. She didn't get straight A's, marks that far exceeded his own academic ability, but she was right. These people, whoever they were, couldn't have ever met Jessica. Not all of them. They couldn't have ever fallen under her spell. He turned his head slowly back towards hers. "Well you're still a slut." He hissed his words, trying hard to make them stick. Maybe she wasn't as stupid as he had thought but some things about her were known, and they couldn't be untrue. Jessica spoke through big, greedy gulps of air between sobs. Her make up now ran in dark, ugly lines down her cheek. "I'm not! I'm not a slut." She paused after one particulaly large sob, "I'm a fucking virgin." "No you're not!" "I am!" "No!" "Yes!" "NO!" She wasn't a virgin. Of course she wasn't a virgin. How could Jessica Munroe be a virgin? How dare she insult his intelligence like that. "Do you think I'm that stupid? Everybody knows Jessica Munroe. She sleeps with boys. She has them all wrapped around her little finger!" "I'm a virgin, I swear. When have you ever seen me with another boy, other than Linton?" Art wracked his memory. Of course he'd seen her with other boys. There was Linton obviously, and Doyle and Marcus, but really they were Linton's posse. Not Jessica's. He thought hard. He must have seen her with other boys, but right now he was struggling to think of when. "Well, maybe." He paused. "Just because I don't see you with other boys at school it doesn't mean you don't bring them here." "Are you kidding! My parents would fucking kill me! They don't even know about Linton yet!" "You're lying!" "I'm not!" There was a little fight in Jessica's voice. "Do you have any idea what it's like to be me? To really be me?" "Of course I do!" Art glanced down at his body, his dress that had ridden up over his ass as he lened over the blonde girl beneath him. "I'm just like you." "You are nothing like me!" Jessica make sure every word landed. "Everyday I go to school. The boys, the men in the staff room, they lear at me. All they see is my face, my legs, my fucking tits. The girls, they hate me. Even my friends. They pretend to like me to hang around trying to get a boy for themselves, but really they hate me. Maybe it's jealousy, I don't know but what I do know is I didn't ask for it." "Shut up." Art tried to be forceful, but it didn't come out that way. Jessica continued. "Then I come home to this house, to my parents and all they see is their perfect little girl, straight A's and no boys. I can't tell them about the teachers or my reputation at school. They wouldn't see my side. They would blame me." "I said shut up!" She didn't. "The only person who actually sees me for me and cares what I think is Linton! I love him, and people even judge me for that! How could a girl like me ever genuinely love and want to be with someone? You have no idea what it's like to be like me." Art was silent. His eyes were wide and staring, gazing deep into the beautiful dark eyes of the girl below him. He believed her. He wished he didn't, he wished that she hadn't spoken with suh truth and conviction but she had. He believed every word of it. "You're not lying, are you?" "No." "But...but...I did all this," He glanced down again. "All of this was to be just like you." "Just like me?" Jessica laughed. It was a short laugh, through tears and a sore throat. "You're nothing like me. You're nothing but a stupid, slut." Art let go of Jessica's wrists, pushing himself backwards off the bed and onto his heels. He took a few steps backwards but his eyes stayed glued to Jessica as she rose and sat up on the end of the bed, wiping away a tear from her cheek. Out of the corner of his eye Art could see himself reflected in a floor to ceiling mirror. He turned his head slowly to look at the red haired beauty that looked back. She looked scared. Her dark rimmed eyes were open, as was her mouth. The heavy breaths she took pushed her breats, backwards and forwards, stretching the soft grey material of her dress. Her shaved legs were cocked a little, almost as if they would fall out from underneath her. Art looked at the girl in the mirror. Art looked at himself. What had he done? He had turned himself into this other person, a girl, all in aid of proving to Jessica Munroe that anyone could be as stupid and as slutty as she was. He had sucked cock. Plenty of cocks, from different men, kissing the tips and drinking their cum. He had shaved his legs and arched his eyebrows. He had spent what little money he had on dresses and make up and shoes, all in aid of being just like Jessica. A Jessica that didn't exist. A Jessica that had never existed. A familiar burn in the pit of his stomach rose up through his chest and into his brain. The same anger. This was all her fault. How could she take away his only purpose for the last few months. She wasn't the slut he had thought she was, the stupid popular girl that everybody loved, but she had played the part. She had let Art, and everybody else, believe that's exactly who she was. She had driven him to this. She had changed him. This was all her fault. On the desk, by the door to the room, the key that Jessica had used to lock the bedroom glinted in the orange lamplight. Art's eyes fell over it, not lingering on it for too long before he turned back towards the Jessica. His legs straightened up. He tugged on the short hem of his dress, smoothing out the wrinkles that had formed around his hips. He brushed the few strays strands of auburn hair that had come forwards back into place and stood to his full height, leaning his weight against the rubber heels of his ankle boots. Jessica watched him with careful eyes, barely moving, not wanting cause another fight. When she spoke she spoke slowly. "Who are you?" Art moved quicker than she could react. He dived for the key on the desk, wrapping his painted fingernails around it before darting for the door. He was already outside the room by the time he felt Jessica tug on the handle from the other side of the door. It was too late. The key was in the lock and the door was shut. The desperate bangs on the door would never be heard over the pop music blasting from the speakers two floors below them. Jessica was going nowhere, for now. Art afforded himself a wry smile. This may have been her party, but now he was the one with all the power. He had her trapped. She had revealed a lot to him, taken away every reason he had to act like he had these past few months. She had taken everything. It was only fair that he took everything from her. The basement to the house was almost as large as the house itself, covering the entire floorspace of the building. The few lightbulbs that swung from thin wires were barely enough to light it. Linton flicked the light on and off a few times, hoping to reveal some more hidden lightbulbs. "Jessica! Are you in here!" He took a few tentative steps into the dark musty space. There were shelves that lined the walls, some jutting out. They were cluttered with old boxes of christmas decorations, old exercise equipment and paint. Linton moved to check behind some of them. He wasn't sure why Jessica would be down here but he had checked everywhere else downstairs. The music quieter down here. Quiet enough that he was able to make out the sound of heels on stone as someone descended the steps in to the basement behind him. He squinted his eyes a little at the long, shapely legs that lowered into view. "Jessica? Is that you?" "Nope." The answer that came back was playful. "Just me." Art paused at the door to the cellar, leaning against the frame and putting one hand across on his hip. Linton looked down at his feet. "Oh, sorry. I was just looking for my girlfriend." Art smiled. "What've you got to be sorry for." A pause. "Other than being one of the few guys at this school who has never tried to contact me." Art peeled himself away from the wall and began to slink across the room towards where Linton was stood. The tall, rugby captain took a few tentative steps back away from Art. "Well, you know." He was nervous. "I've got a girlfriend." "Lots of the boys I've met up with have girlfrends," Art flashed a wicked smile at Linton as he continued to move forwards. "I don't mind." "I think she might." "Who says she has to know?" Art was fully in character. His voice dripped with lust. All thoughts of he and Linton playing together as children had gone from his mind. All Art wanted was to take him from Jessica. To finally cement his place at the top of the pile. All he had to do was suck one more boy off. Linton continued to back away. "Thanks, but I'm really not interested." Art stopped beneath one of the white bulbs. "Why don't you like me, Linton?" "I...I don't know you." "So? The other boys didn't know me when I first met them," Linton carried on backing up only to find there was nowhere else to back into. The tall frame of the boy filled the corner of the room, but hefelt extremely small. Art continued on. "Did Doyle tell you what I can do? What I can do with just my mouth?" "He did." "And Marcus. Did he tell you too?" "Yeah." "Still not interested?" "Um..." Linton shuffled his feet a little, his gaze off across the room staring intently at some non desript piece of wall. There was indecision there. Art could tell. He might have been going out with Jessica Munroe but he was just a boy. A boy who wasn't getting any sex from his girlfriend. A boy who had been told stories by all his friends of the red headed girl who could do amazing things with her tongue. Of course he was curious. Who wouldn't be? Art started forwards again, very very slowly. "You know, I'm very good with my mouth. That's what all the boys say." Art stopped just in front of Linton. His hands reached down between Linton's legs, caressing the obvious bulge that had formed there. A bulge Art was not surprised to find. "I've never had a boy take me from behind though." "I..." Linton started to speak but stopped abruptly. Art pushed his padded breasts up against Linton's chest. He unbuckled the belt around Linton's jeans and reached one hand inside, while the other began to pop the buttons on his fly. "What do you say Linton?" Art gently kissed the dark skin on the taller boys neck before leaning forwards to whisper in his ear. "Do you want to be my first?" "Art?" Art's hands stopped moving. He pulled them out of Linton's trousers and fell back onto his heels. "Art, is that you?" Linton's face was screwed up scanning the contours of the pale face in front of him. The round chin, the slightly long nose that Art could never hide. His eyes may have been lined with dark, smokey make up and false lashes but they were Art's eyes. "Linton..." Art began to speak. That was the only word he could seem to find. "Art, what the fuck are you doing?" Linton pushed the smaller boy back a few paces, looking him up and down, trying to take this all in. Art's arms instinctively wrapped around himself, trying and failing desperately to shield himself from Linton's gaze. "It was you! This whole fucking time the girl everyone has been talking about has been you." "How did you know it was me?" Art could feel a lump forming in his throat. His words were harder to get out now. "How did I know it was you? We were friends for years! Since we were fucking five years old or something! I know what your fucking face looks like, even when you are wearing all that shit on it!" Linton was still pressed up against the wall, trying not to go near his former friend. A dark fuzz swirled around Art's head. He had been found out. He had taken too big a risk. All his plans were disintergrating around his head. Soon the whole party would know, the whole school would know. The cat was well and truly out of the bag but despite the juggernaught of grief that was steaming his way, Art had one overriding thought. This was all her fault! Jessica Munroe and he had to get back at her. If he could only convince Linton, convince him the only way he knew how. "Linton, I can explain." Art dropped to his knees. His hands reached out, pawing and grabbing at Linton's crotch. "Please, just let me do this! Just this once and I'll tell you everything!" "Get the fuck off me!" Linton slapped Art's clawing hands away. He mved to go past him Art, his knee bumping heavily against Art's shoulder sending him flying backwards. Linton almost sprinted towards the open door while doing his pants up, knocking his head against one of the hanging bulbs in the cellar. He didn't look back once. Over the thumping bass of the music upstairs Art could make out the desperate calls for Jessica. Art rubbed his shoulder hard. His knee had cut on the cold stone ground, his legs splayed out beneath him. The white light of the swinging bulb danced across his face as a dark, black smudge snaked its way down his cheek. He was alone down here and soon everyone would know everything.