The After-School Drive
[For Mature Audiences Only, Absolutely No Exceptions]
My name is Christopher, but I insisted that everyone call me Chris. I just liked to keep things simple. You can call me Chris too.
Her name was April. Puberty had been good to her. I had been watching her long enough to know that it wasn’t a padded bra that made her T-shirts such a tight fit at the bust. Coupled with her blue eyes and velvety hair, she elicited longer stares than any other girl, even from other girls. If I told you how much time I spent in the shower imagining wedges of her supple skin stuffed between my fingers, you’d never be able to look me in the eye. But you can only hang around the bathroom so long before someone starts to wonder, so today I’d decided to do something about those fantasies.
It was the end of the school day, and I waited for her friends to leave so I could catch her alone. I circled and descended like a vulture before she could head for the bus. She had barely seen me when I began to speak.
“Hi, April,” I said in a rehearsed voice.
“Oh, hi, Chris,” she said with that sincere sort of smile that makes creases under the eyes.
In the interest of full disclosure, the truth is I was really lucky. I was actually pretty sure April had a crush on me too. Even though she sat in the back of class, which was pretty far from me, I caught a look from her now and then when I glanced over. It was that look of curiosity that you might give to a Corvette sitting on the dealership floor. Was I a Corvette? Of course not. But she didn’t need to know that.
“Getting ready to go?” I asked.
“Well, um,” and I looked side to side, keeping my voice down, “how about I take you home today?”
Her eyes grew very big, though they were still in a distant second place for biggest pair of anything on her body.
“You? Um, well, aren’t you afraid that people will talk?”
“People always talk. We’ll be discreet.”
April took a look around, mulling it over. But everywhere she looked, it was like she was seeing a Corvette.
I breathed a sigh of relief.
“Great. I’ll meet you around back at my car in a couple minutes. Blue Ford hatchback.”
The hardest part was already over, just like that. It’s not like I was some Casanova, but when I set my mind to something, I developed factory precision. I could see everything I needed to do and execute at every turn. It was that sort of thinking that made me a straight-A student in school, and it sometimes helped out in other ways too.
I met April at my car and quickly ushered her into the passenger seat. She was very impressed with how clean the interior was, so I guess I had that working in my favor. Girls always notice the little things. I gave myself a pat on the back for my vehicular hygiene, and then we were off.
“You live in, uh, Parker Hills, right?” I said.
“That’s right,” she said with a weak grin.
“Nice neighborhood. We could just drive around a little first, though.”
She paused a second.
I took a left turn toward the woodlands. I kept the window open a crack so I’d be able to smell the leaves when we got there. April must not have gone this way often, because she suddenly got more attentive to the road. The colors of the leaves especially made her light up, and I watched her shoulders ease back. She looked down at her backpack beside her feet, and then back to me.
“So, what was the math homework again?” April asked with a giggle.
“Section Four-C of the red book.”
“The red book sucks.”
“So I hear,” I said with a nod.
“Don’t you read the book?”
“Eh, I catch glimpses.”
She was starting to relax. I tried to press the advantage.
“I’d be lying if I said I didn’t notice you looking at me sometimes,” I said.
A splash of red rushed across her cheeks, and her shoulders stiffened anew.
“I, well, um, why wouldn’t I be looking at you?”
“Good point. I like to think I’m not ugly.”
“Yeah, you’re not,” she said softly, looking away.
“Well, I think you’re stunning,” I said, very much looking at her.
“Stunning,” she repeated.
“Like someone who should be on television. I, well, I get distracted by it sometimes.”
April brushed her hair back behind her ear, but there was no hair in front of her ear in the first place, so it was just a nervous gesture. She took some deep breaths, inhaling and exhaling very slowly, her bosom rising and falling in turn. There was something really sexy about it, the way she needed to restrain herself from me. Keeping my eyes on the road became more and more of a chore.
“Do you think it’s important to be pretty?” April asked eventually.
“Well, it’s not the most important thing, not by a long shot. But it helps. It really helps.”
“And I’m pretty,” she reiterated, not quite certain of it.
“Beautiful,” I confirmed. “You’re a gift.”
We were closing in on the woods now.
“Does it make you happy to know I feel this way?” I asked.
She rolled and pulled at the bottom of her shirt, as if it were a ritual for divining an answer.
“Yes, I think.”
I drove us to a nice spot in the woods, a spot I’d been to many times. It was off-road, out of sight. The squirrels wouldn’t even peek on you there. It was just me, April, and the sounds and smells of the fall breeze. I still get nostalgic for that little patch of earth every time I catch a whiff of pinecone. But on that day, April was the perfect accent piece on it all, like the cherry on top of a sundae, or a hood ornament on a hatchback.
“April, let’s get into the back seat,” I said.
She scrunched her lip on one side.
“I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
I smiled, doing the best I could to imitate that first smile she’d given me earlier. You really need those creases in order to sell it. It’s not like it was a total act though. I was thrilled to be there with her, and I was going to take the best care of her.
“April, it’s me, Chris. You know you’ll always be safe with me. I promise.”
She swallowed and licked her lips, but she kept her gaze on me.
I got out of the car, and she followed suit at a delay. We were then inside the spacious back interior. Plenty of legroom, reclining seats, the usual. Hatchbacks were good for exactly one thing, and this was it. My eyes went straight to her thighs for the first time. She noticed, and I didn’t care. I knew how badly she wanted this, even if she didn’t.
“You’re safe,” I said mechanically. “You’re safe.”
Then I kissed her. She tasted appropriately like cherry lip balm. I waited to see if she would kiss me back, but she didn’t, so I continued myself. Before long, I was snaking a hand under her shirt to unhook her bra. She barely lifted her arms to help, but it was worth my effort.
When I finally pulled her shirt off, her breasts dropped out like two Hershey’s kisses, as soft and round as I’d ever hoped. I cupped them immediately, hoarding them, engraving my fingers in them. But no sooner did I do that did her teeth begin to chatter like she were freezing.
“We shouldn’t be doing this. This isn’t right,” she either whispered or gasped.
I tried to look at her when she said that, but I couldn’t. I could only see through her, like she had faded into the scenery. She was just my hood ornament now. So I laid her back on the seat, and then I did everything I’d ever wanted with her. I took my time with it, tried to cherish every touch, every curve, every sigh, but those are my private memories. It’s bad enough I’m sharing the rest with you.
When it was over, I helped her get dressed and made sure she didn’t leave anything behind. I got my clothes on too and returned to the driver’s seat. April stayed in the back, but I hadn’t invited her up to the front. I started the engine and drove her straight to Parker Hills, stopping the car only a block down the street from her house.
“It’s just a little hike from here,” I said.
April nodded and got out of the car. I rolled down my front window.
She looked at me.
“Tell your parents you were with some friends, okay?”
She nodded again and started walking away, not fast, not slow, just away.
I don’t know what was wrong with her, but I was on top of the world. I sped home, which wasn’t smart, but I never claimed to be a genius. My dog greeted me on the porch and I gave him a good scratch behind the ears. I could hear the house door creaking open behind me.
“Well, it’s about time you got home,” chirped my wife, a hand at her hip and wielding a grin that could melt butter.
“Sorry, honey,” I said with a chuckle. “Once I start assigning homework out of the red book, grades hit the floor and tutoring sessions go through the roof. Middle schoolers are really a pretty predictable bunch.”