Invisible Girl (An Erotic Romance), Pt. 5 free porn video

The intensity of the experience had shaken them both. Sometimes as they walked along the dark streets, talking quietly, their eyes would find each other, and although the topic under discussion would continue unchecked there would be a silent question exchanged, along the lines of, Did that really just happen?, followed by the equivalent of Wow. As if they had been caught in a forest fire or a landslide and had barely escaped.

Eventually, though, there was too much that she didn’t know, and it was too much to contain. She asked him, “Peter, can anything we’ve been doing...make me...pregnant?”

They stopped right in the middle of the road, and he hastened to reassure her, explaining that she could only get pregnant if he had put it—and fumbled for a moment, knowing that this wasn’t the time for sex slang—between her legs.

“That ‘s why I put it...you know...where I did. And...also...you’re still a...a virgin—so am I, really. And that’s something I wouldn’t...take from you like that, without asking. That wouldn’t be right.”

She thought about that for a moment, and then said, “But it was all right to put it up my...my behind without asking me?”

He had no answer for that, and they had walked along in silence for a while. Then he stopped again. She heard him say “Damn” under his breath, shaking his head slightly.

Then he turned to her, and, forcing himself to meet her eyes, said, “You’re right. I should never have done that without asking you. Even if we’re pretending that...you know, you have to do whatever I want...that wasn’t right.” He looked down, then looked up at her again, his expression dejected. “I’m really sorry, Jane. God, I’m always...I try to act like I know what I’m doing, and I don’t, and you know it. Look, maybe we should just stop.”

She was silent for a moment then said, “Do you want to?”

“Oh, no. You know I don’t. This is… You’re the most exciting… I never thought... But what if I really hurt you?”

She leaned over and put her arms around him then, and said, “You know, if you’d told me what you were going to do I would have been scared to death. But I think I would have probably said yes anyway. I know you’d never really hurt me...even if you do keep spanking me.” She smiled timidly at him as she said this, then glanced down as she continued, “And I really think you’re very nice.” She looked up, saw his disbelieving expression and kissed him quickly before nodding her head emphatically and saying, “Yes—really. But from now on, if you’re going to do something like that, ask me. And don’t put anything in my mouth!”

And with that she deftly plucked the valentine panties from his jacket pocket, then mopped his astonished face all over with them and honked his nose before dropping them and running down the road as fast as her stiff condition would allow, laughing out loud.

The crashing sound she heard was her bike falling over as he took off in hot pursuit, calling her a little creep and threatening to make her eat her panties. Of course she was too stiff—and laughing too hard—to get very far, but it was so much fun to make him run after her.

When she heard his footsteps getting close she whirled and struck a fake karate pose, saying, “Hah!”

He immediately dropped into a similar posture and begun threatening her in asian-sounding gibberish, and they danced around in fake combat in the middle of the road for all of about thirty seconds before he snaked out an arm and grabbed her, bent her backwards in his arms as if for a big romantic kiss—and then placed his mouth on her neck and used it to make a loud farting noise. Which also tickled like crazy so that by the time she had recovered from giggling, he was already back at the bike, raising it from the ground. And of course, retrieving her panties.

After that they talked about whatever came to mind. She found out he lived near the school too, though on the other side. They talked about teachers and classes and other students they both knew, or knew the siblings of. He talked about his plans to go on to a four-year college that fall. They discovered they were both the only children in their families.

She told him about her father and what had happened to him, and asked about his parents. He replied that he lived with his father...and trailed off into silence for a long moment. Then he explained, averting his face as he did so, that his mother had had some kind of breakdown a long time ago and he hadn’t seen her since he was eight.

He sounded deeply ashamed as he told her, and asked her not to tell anybody. “My friends think they’re divorced. They don’t know.”

She quickly assured him, “I won’t tell.”

And knew that she had found his sadness.

When they reached her house he helped her walk her bike all the way up the gravel drive and held it while she retrieved her garment bag before leaning the bicycle against the porch. The porch light was on but she knew her parents wouldn’t be waiting up.

She looked at her watch and was astonished to find that it wasn’t all that late. She felt like one of the characters in her favorite book, The Lion, The Witch and The Wardrobe, who would walk through a magical wardrobe into another world, have adventures that went on for years and then return to find that only a few minutes had passed in the ‘real’ world.

It must have been the magic bra and panties, she thought, giggling to herself, half-asleep. They were both dead on their feet—and he still had to walk home.

Still, he walked her up to the front door and they put their arms around each other and kissed, just as if he’d taken her to the dance. Then he looked at her, his face close to hers and said quietly, “I’m glad...”

And she replied, “Me too.”

They hugged once more, then he smiled at her and walked off into the darkness.

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Chapter Six

During the next week they continued by unspoken agreement to pretend at school that they didn’t know each other. She loved having their times together be completely separate from the ‘real’ world; a private Narnia they could visit where everything was different, and magic could happen.

Another agreement they made without even realizing it was to take things more lightly for a while. On afternoons when he didn’t have other commitments, such as the yearbook committee, he took to waiting for her around the first turn she made on her way home. She would find him sitting under a tree there, and she would get off her bike and he would walk her as far as her driveway, and then a little way in from the road. There she would put down her bike’s kickstand, and they would hold each other and kiss and press themselves against each other for a few minutes, but that was all.

What Peter didn’t realize was that what he probably thought of as ‘taking it easy’, Jane thought of as ‘getting him off guard’. So when she told him about her parents’ Saturday-night meetings (he had been lucky that first time) and invited him over, she figured that he was probably expecting nothing more than a little snuggle and smooch, maybe with some light groping thrown in.

His first intimation that maybe the evening was going to proceed a little differently than he had imagined was when he walked up the porch steps, shortly after her parents’ car had vanished down the drive, and found the front door swinging slowly open before he could knock...with nobody waiting inside.

He stuck his head in, called softly—“Jane?”—advanced a few more steps, called again, a little more loudly...and realized, actually an instant before he heard the door swinging shut behind him, that he had fallen for the oldest trick in the book.

Which, as it turned out, he didn’t mind very much—or, to be honest, even remember what he’d been thinking about an instant before—when he had whirled around to find her closing the door by leaning against it, arms crossed, and wearing only a pair of frilly pink panties. And an expression of pure mischief.

He had barely enough time to register this surprise when she gave him another by jumping up and throwing her arms around his neck while simultaneously swinging her legs off the ground so he would have to catch her in his arms. When he had done so, and was staring down, open-mouthed, at what he had caught, she kissed him greedily, slipping her tongue into his mouth for a moment.

When she withdrew, leaving him wide-eyed and gasping, she leaned towards his ear and whispered, “My bedroom’s at the top of the stairs on the right.” Said the spider to the fly, she thought to herself. And then lay her head on his shoulder and closed her eyes as if going to sleep.

When they were in the dimly lit bedroom and he had gently lowered her onto her bed, she slowly opened her eyes like Sleeping Beauty, stretched provocatively, arching her back and then running her hands down her thighs, and said, “That was so nice. I think you deserve another kiss.”

She reached up and took his hands in hers and slowly drew him down to lie beside her. Gently rolled him onto his back then climbed on top of him and straddled his chest. She took one of his wrists in each hand and slowly stretched his arms over his head as she leaned down to kiss him, running her hands up and down his arms.

Then she slipped the loop of nylon, which she had fashioned earlier out of her much-despised pantyhose then fastened to the headboard and hidden behind the pillow, over his hands and quickly tightened it around his wrists.

Quickly she jumped off the bed and snared each of his ankles in similar loops hidden at the foot of the bed...leaving him spread-eagled, helpless and speechless with astonishment.

When she was satisfied that he was securely tied, she once again straddled his chest, looking down into his stupefied face. She leaned down close to him, sliding her hands under the pillow beneath his head as if embracing him. She smiled teasingly, and said, “Why, Peter, I don’t believe you’ve said one word to me since you got here. Aren’t you even going to say hello?”

And when at last he opened his mouth to say something—not ‘Hello’, was her guess—she had swiftly withdrawn her hands from under the pillow and stuffed into his mouth a pair of her oldest, rottenest, most stained and otherwise disreputable panties, which she had hidden there. Which, moreover, she had taken the precaution of wearing day and night all that week.

His response, although certainly energetic and possibly eloquent, was in fact indecipherable.

She waited for him to finish—or give up, it was hard to tell—and said, “Why, Peter, I thought you liked panties. You certainly seemed to like those other ones of mine. Do you like these?” She rose to her knees and struck his favorite pose, rolling her hips sinuously back and forth so that they almost touched his face, and giving him a good look at her small—but nicely shaped, she thought—naked breasts.

And now she saw in his eyes a hint of a smile: an appreciative look that said, ‘Okay, I get it, this is a payback’. And he managed to nod.

But she was far from done with him. She said, “I thought you might. They look really nice from behind, too.” and, reversing herself, leaned her elbows down to the bed on either side of his pelvis, putting her frill-covered behind in near communion with his nose. She waved it lazily back and forth in front of him, saying, “Do you still think I have a cute little ass?”

Then: “Peter, I can’t understand a word you’re saying.”

From her current position she could hardly help noticing that he had become aroused. No surprise there.

She said, “Peter, you really should learn how to iron your clothes...there’s a big lump right here.”—placing her hand on his zipper and moving it slowly up and down as if trying to smooth it out.

His response to this would have been understood in any language.

She opened his pants, unzipped them and pushed them down onto his thighs, leaving his erection still trapped inside his white briefs.

“Darn!” she said. “It’s still there. Maybe we need to apply more pressure.”

And with that she had reversed herself again, now straddling his hips. She settled herself onto the bulging outline of his cock, drawing a predictable response. She smiled at him and said, “Why, Peter—you look all over-heated. Here...”

She pushed his t-shirt up to his shoulders, then pulled it over his head and up to his bound wrists. She allowed her fingers to trail sensuously back down his arms and onto his now exposed chest, running her fingertips through the curly hair there, then beginning to circle and lightly pinch his nipples as she began moving her hips slowly back and forth on top of him.

He had by now closed his eyes and was beginning to speak in a language that was familiar to her, the words of which were mostly spelled with the letter ‘n’. For a moment, she too allowed herself to close her eyes and enjoy feeling him slide back and forth underneath her. She even began to answer him in the same language.

But she didn’t allow herself to surrender completely, and when she sensed that he was close to climaxing she suddenly jumped off him and stood beside the bed. He stared at her in disbelief.

She said, “Well, Peter, if you’re not going to even talk to me, I’ll go find something else to do.”

And she marched out of the room, to the accompaniment of a somewhat muffled scream.

She was actually gone only long enough to make a short visit to the bathroom. When she returned she was holding a jar of Vaseline. She sat down on the edge of the bed and rested a hand on the front of his briefs, giving the still-burgeoning erection beneath a short caress.

“Poor thing,” she cooed, “he’s all cramped in there. Don’t you think he’d like to come out?”

Peter nodded with comic vigor, now almost cross-eyed with desire and frustration.

Jane smiled sweetly and said, “All right.”

She put the jar on her night table and straddled his thighs before gently lifting the elastic of his briefs and pulling them down over his cock, leaning forward and giving the head a tiny kiss as she did so. Then she untied one of his ankles long enough to slide his pants and underwear free, leaving them bunched at the foot of the other.

After she had retied his ankle she went and stood at the foot of the bed. And just looked at him for a while, enjoying the sight of him stretched out naked in front of her with a huge erection and completely at her mercy. She saw that he was grinning at her—no small trick with his mouth full like that—and was sure that he knew exactly what she was thinking.

She went and retrieved the Vaseline from her night-table and, reseating herself on the edge of the bed, opened the jar and applied just the tiniest dab to the head of his cock, using the tip of one finger to smooth it on, making little circles around the edge as she did so, and then grasping the shaft lightly with the other hand to make sure she could reach the part in back. This caused Peter to begin speaking in the ‘n’ language again and she knew he was dying for release. But she continued to smooth on the jelly in little dabs with the tip of her finger, gradually coating the shaft, and then his sack—nearly driving him mad as she did so.

But he definitely took notice when she slipped a grease-covered finger between the cheeks of his rear end. If he’d been able to think at that point he might have been glad that she kept her nails short—especially when it began to slowly worm its way into his passage, and then just as slowly out again, before repeating the process.

He was beginning to writhe a little, and his vocabulary had expanded to include the letter ‘e’...which Jane took to mean the word ‘please’.

But he had no words left at all when she reached over to her night-table and picked up a wooden hairbrush and, kneeling between his legs, laid it, face up, next to his cock. It had a long cylindrical handle, rounded at the end, and was thus quite similar in size and shape.

And in case he hadn’t made the connection yet, she picked it up...and began coating the handle with Vaseline.

When he saw this his vocabulary suddenly expanded again, to include ‘o’. As in: No. Oh no.

To no avail, of course.

She did unto him pretty much as he had done unto her.

And once he—and his passage—had gotten used to the idea, he obviously actually found it, as she had, erotic in the extreme, especially when she used her other hand to encircle his cock and slide up and down it in the same rhythm as she was using with the hairbrush.

Which gradually increased, until he was thrashing around on the bed as much as his bonds would allow and screaming in the ‘n’ language.

And when she sensed that he had nearly reached the point of orgasm, she slid her free hand down onto his sack and...squeezed.

The resulting climax propelled drops of his juice as high as his forehead, and more certainly would have landed in his gaping mouth if it hadn’t already been full.

When he had finally subsided, she removed the panties from his mouth and solicitously wiped the come from his face and chest with them, saying, as if reciting a language lesson, “You came all over yourself. There is come on your face.”

Then she sat on the edge of the bed, and looking down at him with a somewhat malicious twinkle in her eyes, asked, “What do you think?”

He looked back, his eyes still slightly unfocussed, smiled weakly, and said, “I think I need a new slave. And some mouthwash. And probably a laxative. Whew.”

She laughed out loud, and kissed him, saying, “You’re not mad?” and he had replied that he guessed he’d had it coming, so to speak. Which made her laugh and groan simultaneously.

But when he asked her if he could get up now, she shook her head. Then she stood up, slipped her panties to the floor and stepped out of them. She climbed onto the bed and straddled his shoulders, positioning herself so that she was right above his mouth.

“Lick.” she said.

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Chapter Seven

Afterwards, when she had caught her breath, she untied him, removing the rest of his clothing as she did so. Then she lay down beside him, snuggling into his armpit and laying her head on his shoulder, smiling as she realized that after all of their encounters this was the first time they’d been naked together. She was surprised at how easy it was.

She glanced over at her bedside clock. Her parents weren’t due back for at least another half-hour. She settled in with a contented sigh, her gaze traveling lazily from the forest of wiry chest-hairs in front of her down to his now fragile-seeming cock, lying small and soft against his abdomen, then to his legs, gradually disappearing into soft focus, his feet a distant mountain range.

He used his free hand to wipe her moisture from around his mouth, stretched and yawned, then was silent for a while. Then, as if addressing the ceiling, he said, “Does this mean I’m forgiven?”

She nodded without replying, knowing he would feel it. After a while, she said, as if speaking to herself, “I really like it when you...make me do things. You know, when we pretend I’m your slave. It’s like it’s okay that I’m doing all these things because I ‘have’ to do them, you know?” She half saw, half felt him nodding above her. “And I...I even like it when you...punish me for being bad. I don’t know why, but I do.”

She raised herself onto one elbow so she could look into his eyes, then found herself unable to do so as she continued, “I was kind of scared when I was tied to that chair and you started to...put your cock inside me. I thought it was going to hurt and I couldn’t tell you to stop with my mouth full like that. That’s what scared me.”

She was silent for a moment, remembering. “But then it didn’t hurt, it felt good. And when you started touching me while you did it—oh god, that was so...I thought I’d...”

She fell silent again. She glanced up at him, then quickly away, and said, “I even liked it that you didn’t ask me, really...” She raised her eyes to his and continued, “...but that still doesn’t make it right.”

He held her gaze as he nodded, soberly. Then he smiled and said, “Well, I guess I know how you felt, don’t I?” He continued to smile as he continued, “You’re pretty feisty for a slave; I don’t think real slaves tied up their masters and shoved things up their butts. Not without being asked, anyway.”

His smile became a grin as he shook his head in disbelief, adding, “Whew. That was intense.”

“Did you like it?” she asked.

“I guess I must have,” he replied, after a moment. “I mean, you saw what happened. I don’t think I’ve ever come so hard.” He raised his eyebrows comically. “At least, not by myself.” Jane smiled at this but said nothing as Peter went on, “But I think I like it better the other way around—you know, when I’m telling you what to do. And I think you do too, at least most of the time, right?”

She nodded, her face serious.

He continued, “I don’t know why I like it so much either.” He thought for a moment. “It makes me feel powerful when you pretend you have to do what I tell you, and I like that... But it’s also more because you’re willing to pretend. I mean, that first time, I know you weren’t pretending, you were really scared, and that’s why I felt so bad after. But now it feels like...if you’re willing to do all this stuff with me...” He looked down, and she saw him begin to blush as he went on, “then maybe you...really do like me.”

Jane burst out laughing. Then, seeing the startled look on his face, bent down and kissed him, warmly. “You idiot!” she said, still laughing. “I can’t believe you even thought I might not like you.”

She rolled over on top of him, her face close to his, and said, more softly, “I even liked you on that first day, even though I hated you too. When you came back and kissed me, I could tell you were sorry you’d scared me and made me cry. And anyway, you knew darn well that I started to like it by the end.

“And that’s another thing. I wouldn’t keep letting you tell me what to do if I didn’t really like it, no matter how much I like you. I mean, I enjoyed tonight, but that was just to pay you back for not asking. But the other night, when you...tied me up, there was just something about it...about being completely helpless, and knowing that you could do whatever you wanted with me, that just made me feel so...I don’t know, sexy, I guess. And then when you said I was beautiful and you pulled up my dress and were just...looking at me, it was even more—god, I just loved it. It made me feel like I was beautiful. Special.”

He hugged her tightly for a moment, and kissed her. Then he shook his head slightly and said, “Jane, don’t you know how beautiful you are? I never noticed you until that night I caught you in the coatroom, and even then... When I walked into the bathroom that first time I wasn’t even sure what I was going to do; I thought maybe I’d make you give me half of what you stole, or something. I figured you were just some creep.

“Then when you took off your glasses, and I saw how pretty you were, and it was like I was the first person to ever see you...like you’d been in disguise all the time we’d been in the same school. You were so beautiful...” His face darkened. “And then when I saw how scared you were, and I wanted to touch you so bad, and I thought maybe I could make you… Well, you know.”

He looked away.

“I know. It’s all right,” Jane said softly.

“I couldn’t believe it when you took your dress off and let me look at you. God, you looked so sexy in your bra and panties I almost came right then.”

She pictured that moment in her mind: her dress in a heap at her ankles, her sweater on the floor. Feeling his desire, his eyes devouring her. She felt her nipples begin to stir just from the memory.

He must have noticed, because he leaned down and kissed each of them for a moment, teasing them with the tip of his tongue until they were fully erect. Then he rolled onto his back and continued as if nothing had happened. “I mean, I told you the other night how much I love seeing you in your underwear. God, even the word ‘panties’ is sexy to me.”

She raised herself on one arm and smiled down at him. “Really?”

He nodded.

Her smile continued, but her eyes got a playful glint in them. She lowered herself to whisper in his ear, “So you like looking at me in my...panties?” Drawing out the last word like an incantation.

And felt him stir.

She raised herself again and leaned over him far enough to snag from the floor the panties she’d been wearing earlier. Then she lay back down beside him and with one hand dragged her panties lightly over his already stiffening cock, just barely tickling it with the frills, knowing he could see it while she whispered, “And you like making me lift up my skirt so you can see my...panties?”

This time she licked his ear after she said it, heard him breathe in sharply, and saw his cock spring nearly erect.

Again she trailed her panties over it, pressing lightly with her fingers. He moaned, and she began to rub gently up and down as she cooed, her lips against his ear, “And you like it when I spread my legs so you can feel my...pussy...through my panties?”

He was writhing in earnest now, raising his hips and trying to press himself against her hand as she stroked him.

She wrapped the panties around his cock and began to pump in time with his accelerating breathing. When she felt he was nearing his climax she leaned in and whispered, “What if my parents came in right now...and saw me...rubbing your cock...with my panties?”

At this, with a huge groan, he exploded a second time, his come not traveling as far as before, but his back arching upwards until he was supported only by his feet and shoulders for a moment before he flopped back down with a loud exhalation and lay there, breathing in gasps, his mouth open.

When he was able to talk he opened his eyes, looked dazedly up at her and said, “Are you sure you want to be my slave? God, I think I’m yours.”

She smiled and kissed him, then ran quickly to the bathroom, returning with a wet washcloth. She cleaned him up, then kissed him again and said, “Next time, I’ll be your slave. But my parents really are coming home any second.”

She lay on the bed, watching him dress, then rose and, still naked, took his hand and accompanied him down to the front door. He kissed her, quickly but warmly, then turned and opened the door. She reached out and flipped on the porch light for him, but as she did so he grabbed her arm and pulled her outside onto the porch.

Before she could react he had wrapped his arms around her and kissed her deeply, his tongue slithering into her mouth, his hands gliding down her back, cupping and caressing her naked buttocks as he pressed her against him.

Now it was her turn to imagine her parents coming home—and finding her being kissed and fondled, naked, on the front porch. This vision, along with what he was doing, was enough to send her into another orgasm, and she held onto him tightly, gasping, as her hips jerked involuntarily against his.

When she had finished, he had simply smiled, kissed her again lightly, and said, “See you in school...slave,” and walked off into the night, his footsteps crunching on the gravel.

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Chapter Eight

“Do you want to go to the Graduation Ball with me?”

He got up from under the tree where he’d been waiting for her, grinning at the look of bewilderment on her face. She’d hardly stopped her bike in front of him when he’d said it and was now at a complete loss. He gave her a quick hug where she stood straddling her bike, and said, “Sorry. Guess I shouldn’t have sprung it on you like that. C’mon, let’s walk.”

They continued along their usual route back to her house while he explained. “I wasn’t planning to go, but my Dad… I can’t figure him out. We get along okay, but sometimes I think he’s mad at me all the time and doesn’t even know it. Ever since my mother… Well, I told you about that. Maybe it’s ‘cause I look kinda like her, I don’t know. Anyway, it’s like he wants to keep me at a safe distance, in case I...you know, turn out to be like her, or something.”

He looked straight ahead as he walked beside her, his voice tight with shame.

“But this morning, out of the blue he suddenly asked me about the prom and whether I was going—I have no idea why. Maybe he suddenly remembered I’m graduating this year and put two and two together,” he added bitterly. “I told him I hadn’t thought about it, and that it was a little late anyway since the Ball’s next week, but he went on and on about what once-in-a-lifetime thing it was, and offered to pay for the tux and everything. I can’t figure him out at all. I mean, he completely forgot my Senior Prom in high school.”

He kicked at a small rock in the road, then turned his face to her and smiled. “So...you wanna go?”

She continued to walk on in silence.

He said, “C’mon, it’ll be fun. Nobody knows we even know each other. Think of how shocked they’ll be if we show up together.”

Finally, Jane said, “Peter, I’d love to, but...well, for one thing, I don’t think my parents can afford to buy me a formal gown. I told you how broke we are right now.”

His face fell. “Right. I didn’t even think about that. Sorry. And I don’t guess Dad’d want to spring for that too. We don’t have a lot of money either, what with paying to have my mother taken care of, and all. Damn.”

She leaned over and bumped his shoulder with hers. “It’s all right.”

They walked along for a while, lost in thought, then she said, “Anyway, I like having us...just be for us, you know?”

He nodded, then suddenly turned and hugged her so fiercely that she would have dropped the bike if it hadn’t fallen against her. And then she heard him say, softly, “I love you.”

Everything went still inside her. Then it was as if something hard in her chest had suddenly melted and she said, her voice a little quavery, “Oh Peter, I love you too.”

They stood looking at each other for a moment, then quickly turned away, embarrassed, and began to walk again.

After a long silence, she said, “I still think you should go to the prom.” He looked at her. She continued, “Your Dad’s right. You’re graduating. You should go, if it’s not too late to find someone.”

She gave him a smile that was a little sad. “Then next year when I’m graduating you can come home from Kenton College and take me to mine, okay?”

He’d argued with her the rest of the way but she had persisted, and finally he had reluctantly agreed to see if there was anyone to go with. Two days later he’d told her that one of the girls from his drama club group had agreed to go with him, although apparently not very pleased with the short notice.

The night of the ball she stayed home. She tried to watch television. She tried not to picture herself, beautiful as Cinderella, entering the hall on his arm.

She tried not to cry.

She went to bed early.

She was awakened by the sound of something rattling against her window. Her clock said it was 2:30 in the morning. She peered sleepily out the window and saw him, immaculate in his black tie and tuxedo, looking up at her.

He was wreathed in mist, and for a moment she thought she might be dreaming that she was awake. But then he beckoned to her, and she made her way silently downstairs and outside to him, pausing only to slip on a pair of rubber sandals. His white dress shirt seemed to give off a bluish glow in the moonlight and his face above it seemed dreamlike as she approached.

“Peggy got drunk and passed out early,” he’d whispered when she was near enough to hear. “About what I expected. I took her home and left her in a rocking chair on her front porch. Hope she doesn’t get seasick.”

She smiled at him, then yawned, and excused herself, asking, “How did you get here? Walk?”

“No. Dad let me have the car tonight. But I parked at the end of your driveway and walked up so your folks wouldn’t hear me.”

He had been holding one hand behind his back as they whispered, and now he extended it to her, saying, “They sure looked at me funny when I ordered two.”

In his hand was a white cardboard box with a wide purple ribbon and bow around it.

She took it from him. Inside, when she’d managed to slip the ribbon off and remove the lid, she found a corsage of red rosebuds.

She looked up at him and smiled. And began to cry, just a little.

He wiped her tears away with his thumb, smiling at her, then took the corsage and pinned it, with some difficulty, to the shoulder of the oversize white t-shirt she was wearing as a nightgown.

Then he took her right hand in his left and, placing his other hand in the small of her back, began to dance with her there on the lawn, quietly humming a tune to her as they waltzed in and out of the drifting mist. After a while he let go of her hand and simply held her as they danced, ghostly figures in someone else’s dream.

When the song ended, he bowed formally over her hand, and she curtsied in reply. They looked at each other, happy in this perfect moment.

Then he got a mischievous look in his eyes, and, leaning close, whispered, “I want to show you something. Undo my pants.”

She felt jarred by this, as if he had broken the sweetness of the moment with his request. Nevertheless she sank to her knees in the cool, dewy grass. She unbuckled and unzipped his pants and let them fall around his ankles.

There was something familiar looking about his underwear but it was mostly obscured by his shirt, so she lifted the ends above his waist to look. His underwear was way too small, for one thing, stretched to the limit across his hips and not even reaching halfway to his navel. And that pattern… Boys his age didn’t wear briefs with patterns, especially–she peered more closely–large and small red hearts.

A small hole where one had been cut out.

She dropped his shirt and quickly clapped both hands over her mouth to stifle her giggles. He had worn her panties to the prom!

She looked up to see him grinning down at her, saying, “I thought you’d like that. And, in case you were wondering: yes, I washed them first.”

This caused her giggles to redouble, to the point where he had to drop to his knees as well and muffle her, by pressing her face to his chest and wrapping his tuxedo jacket around her, until she was able to control herself again.

Eventually she raised her head, tears of laughter in her eyes, shoulders still shaking slightly, and managed to say, “P-p-peter, that is so...so...s-sweet!” before collapsing into giggles again, although not as helplessly as before.

When she recovered she raised her face to his and kissed him. She allowed her hand to drift between his legs and began to stroke him there, but he gently took her hand away and, holding it, said, “No. I just wanted you to know I was thinking about you tonight.”

He struggled to his feet and helped her up, then raised and re-fastened his pants. Then he took her face in his hands, kissed her, and said, “Go back to bed. I’ll see you soon.”

He kissed her again, then turned away, walking silently in the grass along the driveway until he disappeared.

She waited until she heard the distant sounds of his car starting up and driving away before going back inside.

She unpinned the corsage from her shirt and slept with it beside her pillow all night long, its perfume coloring her dreams.

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