Prom? Ch. 05

"I'm sorry, Andy. You didn't deserve to have this happen to you. I didn't really consider how you felt about all of this," Ashley pleaded.

I scoffed and turned around, slamming the door behind me as I walked out of the house.

***

I decided to make the trip to Mike's alone. Despite my skirt wearing antics from the past week, I was indeed still a guy, and this seemed like a guy-to-guy thing, which annoyed Natalie. When she dropped me off at my house, she told me to seek the truth and not to push to hard.

"The guy's been through alot in the past week. Just be nice," Natalie said before driving off. I took off the skirt and the top, reverting back to Andy. It felt nice to be looking at a guy in the mirror again. I looked perfectly plain in a t-shirt and basketball shorts, with my hair tied up in a ponytail.

I drove slowly to Mike's, trying to get my head right. I knew that Mike wasn't happy considering he had ignored me earlier, but I couldn't really take the temperature of the situation. Was it me he was angry at, or the situation as a whole?

I pulled up to Mike's house. I could see his car out on the driveway, Mike bent over under the hood. I shut the car off and I saw Mike glance over his shoulder. The way he threw his wrench down and furiously dried off his hands with a rag he had in his jeans told me exactly what kind of mood he was in.

"Hey! Mike!" I called as I got out of the car. He disappeared into the garage. I went in and found him sitting at a workbench, violently sifting through a toolbox.

"Where is it...where the fuck is it..." he whispered to himself, spilling tools onto the ground.

"Mike-"

"WHAT?" he snapped, whipping himself around to face me. I was so startled that I took a step back.

"What," he continued, "as if you can make this any fucking worse. You go off and suck somebody's dick and then I get fucking slandered and now -"

"Slandered?"

"Apparently I'm a fucking cheater now!" he said, knocking the toolbox off of his lap. He sighed and put his head in his hands, bracing his elbows on his knees.

"Ashley...she had a picture," I said, pulling out my phone and pulling up the picture of Mike and the girl. Mike took a look at the picture and scoffed.

"Andy, that's my fucking cousin!" he shouted. "She's was getting deployed so I wasn't going to be seeing her for awhile. That's why we were out to dinner!"

"She said you were dodgy for a few days," I said, unsure of why I wasn't believing Mike.

"Yeah, dodgy because it was my cousin's last three days before deploying in the military. I just wanted to get some time to be with my family, but Jessica wouldn't leave me alone. 24 fucking 7 she wants to be with me. So I just stopped for a bit."

"Which is why she followed you and suspected that you were cheating," I hypothesized, putting the pieces together.

"And also why she cheated on me. To get revenge. And that she was going to spread the rumor that I cheated on her," he said. He sank his head down, defeated. I pulled up a stool and sat across from him.

"Come on man, forget all about that. All that drama, all those rumors. That's all going to go away since we're all going away for school soon," I encouraged. He didn't look up.

"I think," I continued, "that we need to talk about us." That got him to sit up.

"What do you mean...us?"

"Um, you, me? Us? We had sex last night, if you don't remember?" I sassed, thinking he was just playing with me.

"No really, I mean what the fuck do you mean by that. There's no 'us' here. You fucking blew that other guy!" he shouted, almost standing up from his chair. I was shocked.

"Um, what? Do you really think those photos are real?" I asked.

"Well, I don't fucking know Andy. All I see is you, or at least who you were dressed as last night, kneeling on the bathroom floor in front of a guy's crotch. You tell me what to conclude."

"Those were fake!" I cried. "Ashley made me take those. That's her prom date slumped on the toilet. They were setting me up."

"Bullshit! I'm supposed to believe that Ashley Witten had you fake blow a guy in the bathroom just so she could take pictures and use them to get revenge on me?" he spat. I had never seen him so angry before.

"She had dirt on me. She knew that I was Andy, not Anna. She had...pictures. You have to trust me here," I pleaded.

"Trust you? How the fuck can I trust you if you don't trust me? You thought I fucking cheated because Ashley showed you a fucking picture," he fumed. I could feel tears forming in my eyes.

"Mike...please," I said, reaching out my arm. He rejected my attempt at comfort and stood up, shaking.

"FUCK OFF! Just fuck off! Can't you see that you fucked this whole thing up? Thanks a fucking lot. Last night was such a fucking mistake!" Mike shouted, rage filling his eyes. I could feel a tear fall down my left cheek. I stood up from my stool and turned away, stepping out of the garage. I turned back just for a second to see him, still standing, still shaking. Still fuming. He pressed a button and the garage door came down, dividing the two of us.

***

Mistake. I'll show him a fucking mistake.

I took a hit from my bong as I finished up my makeup. It wasn't quite what Natalie could do, but I still looked decently sexy. I picked out a black lace thong and a matching black bra, slipping my fake breasts into the cups. I took the little black dress off of my desk chair, holding it up to my body as I looked in the full length mirror. I had worn it a few days ago while I was out with Natalie, and it was the perfect number for showing off my tits and ass. I slipped it on with some black heels and untied my ponytail, allowing my blonde hair to fall down my back. I brushed it a little to get more volume.

A mistake? We fucked and it was a mistake? That hurt me the most, more than him accusing me of cheating. I felt betrayed by my best fucking friend. A mistake. I had to get away from it all, from Mike, from Natalie, from Ashley, from all the drama and rumors in town. I just wanted to get drunk and forget about it all.

And prove to myself that I'm not a fucking mistake.

It was nightfall by the time I stepped out of my house, so I wasn't worried about anyone recognizing me as I drove. I checked my purse one last time: keys, wallet, phone, makeup, all the rest. The weed hadn't impaired me nearly enough to stop me from driving, so I confidently reversed out of my driveway.

I drove east on 580, leaving the Bay Area. Suburbs followed more suburbs as I drove southeast, passing Modesto. I lit up a spliff as I pulled off the main highway, making my way down side streets and through residential areas. I finally came across a bar in a little strip mall in one of the towns. It was a sports bar with nothing fancy about it. I parked my car and saw a few men standing outside, smoking cigarettes. I knew this was exactly my place.

I got out of my car and started walking, my heels clicking on the asphalt. I walked past the guys outside, and I swear I could see one of them smile at me. I took a deep breath through my nose, catching a whiff of the perfume I was wearing followed by the stench of the cigarettes.

Showtime.

I walked into the dimly lit room, and it felt like all eyes were on me. There were mostly men, but there were a few average looking women sitting around with husbands, boyfriends. I seemed to be the only "single" girl in the place. I felt the stares follow me as I walked over to the bar and took a seat.

"Vodka and cranberry," I said to the bartender, winking at him in the process. He went to work pouring my drink and I smiled, digging through my purse for some cash. He made a face when I put the cash on the bar.

"No, no. I insist," I said, sliding the money towards him. The drink was set in front of me and I took a sip as I spied a tv. A sportscaster was giving a report on who the Sacramento Kings should draft this year.

Now it was just a waiting game. A single girl at a bar like this was bound to get some attention, and I had already seen it with the guys outside and the patrons inside. All it would take is one brave soul to come over and talk to me. A race to the starting line.

"Kings fan? Who do you think they're going to draft this year?" I heard a voice say from behind me. I turned around and took in my prey: white guy, late 30's to early 40's, fit with a vague hint of grey hair in his beard. I smiled a bit.

"I don't know. How about you tell me?" I teased, uncrossing and recrossing my legs. He sat down next to me.

"Well, there's this really good point guard from Kansas. And this small forward. They have 2 first round picks, so they can have some really good talent on this team. Most talented since 2002, probably. You were probably too young to remember that anyway," he said with a wink. I feigned surprise.

"Too young for the 2002 Kings? How old do you suppose I am, mister?" I coaxed.

"Well, we're in a bar, so legally you have to be 21. But...I'm going to go with 19?"

"18, actually," I said, taking a sip of my drink. I could see his eyes light up.

"18! Wow, isn't that something," he said, taking a sip from his beer.

"Listen," I said, "come closer to me." He leaned in so my lips were next to his ear.

"Now, we can introduce ourselves, get to know each other, all that crap," I whispered. "You can buy me drinks, fill me with all the booze you want, then take me home and do what you want. Or, instead of that, we can get out of here and I can find a place where I can blow you."

That last sentence caused him to retract in shock, amazed that I was so open. We didn't even know each other's names. But I didn't care: something inside me was driving me to do this. Some desire, some want. Some need. He smiled and took my hand.

When we got to his car he took me in his arms and pinned me against the door, planting a firm kiss on my red lips. My lips parted and accepted his tongue, letting him invade my body for the first time. His hands slipped down to my ass, cupping my bottom and pressing his body closer to mine. I could feel his cock against my stomach, hard as a rock. I moved a free hand down to his bulge and lightly massaged his cock over his pants, making him moan into my mouth.

He pulled away from me, but only to reach into his pocket and take out his keys to unlock the doors. I quickly opened the backseat door and he followed, closing it behind him. He climbed on top of me, kissing me again, his hand starting to go up my thighs. I quickly blocked his hand with my own, before putting my hand back over his bulge.

"Sit down for me," I said coyly. He sat down in the seat, and I straightened myself out next to him. I turned his face towards mine and kissed him, much softer than the kisses he had been giving me. One of my hands went to his belt buckle, slowly maneuvering until it was undone. My hand undid his pants button and moved down to his zipper, slowly going lower and lower until my hand was right on top of his bulge. I gave it another little squeeze, causing him to yelp in delight. He lifted himself just high enough so that he could pull his pants down to his knees, and finally pull down his precum-stained boxer briefs.

He sat down and his cock stood at attention in front of me. It was darker than his white skin, and had a neat bush of pubic hair at the base. It was a little bit shorter than Mike's, but a little bit thicker. My palm engulfed the head of his cock, getting precum all over my hand. I moved my hand up and down his shaft, wetting his cock, preparing it for my waiting lips. I could hear him start to moan above me.

I moved my hand down to the base, straightening his cock right above my lips. I did exactly as I had the night before, kissing the head of his cock before slowly letting the bulbous head slide past my lips. I started bobbing my head up and down, letting my tongue do a small flick with each downstroke of my head. My tongue wrapped around his head as I reared down again, causing his thick cock to stretch out my mouth.

"Holy fuck..." he muttered, leaning back into the seat. I moved my head back down, almost gagging on the fat cock that was stuffing my mouth. I felt his legs start to tingle a little below me, and I started to speed up the pace of my tongue. I closed my eyes, enjoying every last moment of having this complete stranger's cock in my mouth, knowing that I was wanted and desired. If my cock wasn't taped down in my thong, I would have been hard as well.

I lowered my head down for one last bob and slowly let my tongue caress the head of his cock one last time. As I was moving my head up I felt his cock start to twitch, and soft moans started escaping from his mouth. I had never tasted cum before, so I lowered my head back down to taste him. That final movement was enough to send him over the edge, making his cock explode in my hot mouth, filling my mouth and throat with cum. It was a bit salty, and a little bitter, but I didn't mind. What mattered was the fact that I had made this happen all on my own. I swallowed the cum in my mouth and lightly sucked on his cock, getting the last of his juices out of the tip of his cock.

"Holy shit...wow," he said, coming back from the orgasm he just had. His phone chimed in the front seat.

"Could you get that for me?" he asked me, pulling his underwear and pants back up and redoing his belt. I reached over and grabbed the phone, unlocking it in the process. I saw his wallpaper: a wife, two kids, both seemingly in elementary school. I was fuming.

"What the fuck is this?" I demanded, showing him his own phone wallpaper. He let out a chuckle.

"Oh, sweetheart. Did you really think I was just a single guy out at the bar tonight? The wife thinks I'm away this week. Business trip. Really, I just drove a few towns away," he said.

"You're a fucking pig," I said with disgust.

"C'mon, is it really that bad? She doesn't know anything. And all you did is blow me! All I did was get off. It's not like we fucked or anything," he said. I couldn't believe what I was hearing.

"Well fuck you. You're an absolute scumbag," I said, opening the car door. I didn't even take a glance back as I slammed the door shut and plodded back to my own car.

I had barely gotten onto the road when I found myself regretting giving that blowjob. It didn't give me any feelings of empowerment or desire. I felt weak, cheap, a little bit used. This guy's poor wife didn't know that some anonymous "girl" just blew her husband. I felt tears starting to well up in my eyes, and I had to pull over because I couldn't clearly see in front of me anymore. It was late, so I decided I'd get some sleep in a grocery store parking lot for a few hours, promising myself to wake up early the next morning to drive home.

The drive back to the Bay Area was quiet. Eerily quiet. It was 5:30, so it was to be expected, but I don't think I had ever driven through the streets of my hometown at this hour. It was quiet up and down, the only sounds coming from the engine of my car and the birds in the sky.

I parked my car and got out, taking one final look at myself. My mascara was ruined from the tears, forming black streaks going down my cheeks. My lipstick was blotchy, and my hair was absolutely disheveled. I took off the heels before walking up the driveway, accepting last night's defeat. I rang on the doorbell and waited for around a minute, before the door finally opened.

"Oh jeez," Natalie said, dressed in a pink satin robe. She moved aside and motioned for me to come in, and I completed my second straight walk-of-shame right into Natalie's house.

"Well," Natalie said to me as she locked the front door. "Looks like it's time to get some revenge."