My brother is shy. Shyness is endearing up to a point, but at eighteen years old, it goes from cute, to pathetic. You think he’d get out of his fucking shell by now, but nope; Tom is still the awkward, apprehensive boy he’s been his entire life. He’ll be heading off to college soon, and if he doesn’t open up, the best years of his life are going to be spent jerking it in a dorm. He’s a sweet kid, (listen to me patronizing him; he’s a year older than me for fuck’s sake!), but sweetness doesn’t get you very far in this world. He’s not a child anymore, and he needs someone to kill the boy and uncage the man. I guess that’ll have to be me.
Before your dirty, little mind runs rampant with incestuous fantasies, let me tell you now, that I have no intention of fucking my brother. Would you fuck your brother? I didn’t think so. That being said, I am going to get that poor bastard laid. I have a friend who needs to go to the prom. This friend had an incident earlier this year that made her quite unpopular with…everyone. Eleanor is this unfortunate moron, and ignoring the aforementioned incident, she’s actually quite the catch. Let me describe her to you; she’s looking away from me now, so I feel safe giving her a once-over. Don’t judge me for ogling; this is for your benefit.
She has red hair that flows from the crown of her head in an even part, and then bows inwardly at a sharp, angled cut, just below her jawline. She has pale, freckled skin, apple cheeks, a pointed nose, and full, luscious lips, which she keeps sheened with a layer of red lipstick. Her eyes are large, and sparkle with green irises that cement her obvious Irish ancestry. Pretty cute, huh? Well, her face could certainly be described as such, but her body requires more…adult adjectives. Her neck is long, and elegantly slopes into a delicate collarbone that connects two, narrow shoulders. Her breasts protrude from her chest in full D-cups, though their size does not feel exaggerated. She’s no athlete, so her abdomen isn’t toned, but it’s flat and layered with silky skin. Eleanor often brags that her best asset is her ass, and makes sure to add an affectation in the word “ass-et,” just for good measure. I can’t disagree with her; her ass is great. Full, thick glutes round together in supple domes that curve teasingly from her hips, and crease vulgarly into the crack between them. They seem to perch just above her thighs in a gravity-defying bulge, and when she walks, they flex in a teasing cadence of alternating lasciviousness.
Did you get a good picture? She’s pretty hot, huh? Well, she certainly thought so when she decided to go streaking during the Class A semifinals, and ended up causing our starting quarterback to break his tibia. Yeah…it’s a long story, but you can get why she’s unpopular at the moment. Maybe unpopular enough to lower her standards to a lonely, pathetic senior who needs a date to the prom.
“Psst, Ellie,” I whisper to her in chemistry class, “you got a date for prom yet?”
“You know I don’t,” Eleanor hisses back, “and you don’t need to be a cunt and rub it in.”
“I can set you up with a senior,” I smile, “a good-looking boy who just needs a girl with a pulse to hold his arm.”
“Ew,” Eleanor says, making a face, “you’re brother?! I can do better.”
“Don’t be a bitch,” I giggle, “Tom’s a nice guy.”
“That’s exactly the problem, Laura,” Eleanor frowns, “what the fuck am I going to do with a nice guy?”
“Look,” I whisper, catching the eyes of Professor Starling and lowering my voice, “just give him a chance. He’s a senior, so he has cachet.”
“He’s a loser. Just because he’s a year older than me, doesn’t mean I automatically want to fuck his brains out.”
“You’re a fucking loser, Eleanor,” I hiss, losing my temper, “either you go with my brother, or you go stag; you don’t have any other fucking options!”
“Ouch!” Eleanor exclaims, loud enough that the whole class turns around and looks at her. They glare at her with the same animosity they had after she ruined our school’s chances of making it to the state championship. High school football is a big fucking deal in Nebraska, and her infraction would not soon be forgotten.
“Fine,” she whispers to me after the class had turned their attention back to the professor, “I’ll talk to him in the car ride home.”
I thought finally getting my driver’s license would legitimize me as one of the cool kids, but all it did was make me the chaperone of Laurie and her friends. Being the only male in a van full of high school juniors might sound like a fun time, but for me, it usually meant cringing as the passengers screamed out-of-tune renditions of Adelle over the blaring car stereo. At least Laurie only brought one friend home with her today, but that friend just happened to be Eleanor fucking O’Reilly. God, if there was one person in the school that could make me look like less of a loser, it was her. Sure, she was a hot piece, but…the state championship!
“Hey Tom,” Laurie smiles as she gets into the front seat, “how was school?”
“The same,” I murmur, “what is she doing here?”
“Eleanor is staying with us tonight,” Laurie says, “and you’re going to be nice.”
“The state championship…”
“Be nice!” Laurie hisses as Eleanor opens the sliding door of the van.
“Hey Tom,” Eleanor says, “you got a date to the prom yet?”
“I’m not going to prom,” I grumble, “it’s too expensive.”
“It’s an archaic tradition created by racists, it’s a fascist construct that strips people of their individuality, it’s a corporate sham that preys on the insecurities of teenagers,” Laurie teases, “or it’s just too damn expensive. All of those excuses are just code for ‘I can’t get a date.’”
“Fine,” I confess, “I can’t get a date.”
“I bet you haven’t even asked anyone.” Laurie smirks.
“You know I haven’t.” I smile sadly.
“And now that all your ideal fantasies are taken,” Laurie says, “and your back-ups are taken, and your last-resorts are taken, you’ve decided to just skip it all together.”
“Bingo.” I sigh, putting the car in drive and pulling out of the parking lot.
“What if,” Laurie smiles coyly, “I had someone in mind that would love to go to prom with you.”
“I’d say you’re a liar, or it’s Eleanor.” I smile back. I’m not fucking stupid, Laurie; I’m just not fucking interested.
“And you think you’re too good for her?” Laurie laughs, and looks back at Eleanor. I eye the beautiful redhead in the rearview mirror, and run the thought through my head. High school was almost over, and any friends I once had, were now mere acquaintances at best. People would judge me for taking Eleanor, but I would never see those people again, so why should I care? She’d owe me at least one dance before she ditches me, which meant I’d get to grind my cock into the best ass in the entire school. Hmm…you know what? I’m already a rock-bottom loser, why the hell not?
“Hey Ellie,” I say to the girl sitting behind me, “will you go to the prom with me?”
“Fine.” she grumbles.
“Enthusiasm, Ellie,” Laurie glares at her friend, “act like you give a shit.”
“Yay,” Eleanor groans, rolling her eyes, “I’m going to prom with Tommy fucking Baker.”
“You could not be more of a bitch!” Laurie hisses, but I don’t give a shit. Eleanor pretending she wanted to go with me would have been much worse than honesty. I knew I was her last resort, and she knew she was my last chance. I didn’t expect anything but one dance of dispassionate grinding, but I was going to bump and grind into that ass like it was my last night on earth. I’d be moving away soon, and all of this high school shit would be behind me. The only thing I knew I’d regret, was that I never told Laurie how I really feel about her.
And I never would.
You know, Tom’s not bad looking. Lanky, tall, and a mess of curly brown hair…he’s not bad looking at all. The only problem with Tom, is his mouth; he doesn’t open it enough, and when he does, you wish he hadn’t. Sitting with him at the kitchen table and listening to him drone on about the mods of his War Thunder gaming forum was fucking tortuous. I don’t care that the mods deleted your post, Tom, and I certainly don’t care that they banned users due to off-topic conversation. Oh, thank god Laurie’s here; I thought I was going to kill myself.
“You two seem to be hitting it off.” She smiles hopefully. I kill her smile with the motion of my hand, placing my forefinger to my temple and pulling an imaginary trigger.
“Or not.” She frowns.
“Don’t beat yourself up over it,” Tom chuckles at Laurie, “we both know what the situation is. Ellie; I want one dance before you ditch me.”
“Fine,” I say with a wave of my hand, “propriety demands it.”
“Is that all?” Laurie exclaims, “Is that the best either of you are willing to do?”
“What?” Tom laughs, “Did you think this whole thing was going to turn into something? C’mon, Laurie; all of us knew this was basically an arranged marriage.”
“Set up by you,” I smirk at Laurie, “to get your loser friend and your loser brother together, hoping that two losers would somehow find a spark in their loser-dom.”
“We’re like, polar-opposite losers,” Tom laughed, and looked at me straight in the eye for the first time, “I’m a virgin who spends his nights in front of a computer screen, and she’s the slut who ruined football.”
“I am not a slut!” I laugh.
“Jordan, Trey, Carver, Joe, Blake, Eric, Ryan, Carl, Alex, Ollie, Anders, Frank, both Johns and all three Maxes;” Tom smiled wryly, “but I guess you’re just generous.”
“Half of them were at once,” I smirk, and lean forward, “so if we’re going but the number of times, and not the number of dicks…”
“I’m going to let you think about what you just said,” Tom says, resting her arms behind his head and leaning back, “until the realization strikes you.”
“Well, I can tell you one thing,” I say with a pursing of my lips and a raise of my brow, “one of those names will never be ‘Tom.’”
“I’m not a big fan of herpes anyway.”
“You must not be a fan of pussy at all,” I shoot back, “or you would’ve gotten some by now. Are you sure you’re not a closet homo? It’s 2017, Tom; you can come out.”
“ENOUGH!” Laurie yells, her face red with anger, “I fucking tried, OK? I tried with both of you, and all I get is this bullshit. Tom, you’re never getting laid if you don’t grow a sack. Ellie, people don’t hate you because of the football thing, they hate you because you’re an entitled bitch.”
Laurie gives us each a final, disdainful look, and then leaves for her room in a huff. I turn my eyes back to Tom, but Tom’s not paying attention to me. No, Tom is looking right at Laurie’s ass. Tom, Tom, Tom; you dirty boy, you. You thought I was the depraved, sexual deviant? Well, it looks like I’m not alone. Maybe we do have something in common.
“Tom,” I say in my sweetest voice, “how long have you wanted to fuck your little sister?”
Tom jolts up and his face flushes a deep crimson. I stare levelly into his eyes, my knowing smile taunting him. I see his mind try to concoct the retort that will magically refute my accusation, but the gears just aren’t shifting right.