Small Town Life

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Scarves, entrapment, and close encounters, Oh My!
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Small Town Life

A series of stories featuring Elle and John

Story One: Introductions

As small towns go, this one was small. Not so small that it would just fade away into the middle Americas waves of grain. It was just small enough where everyone knew everyone else and everyone had a secret worth knowing. There was one elementary school, one high school, one mom and pop grocery store, and so on. If this story was just about a normal middle American town, this story wouldn't be posted here, now would it? No, it wouldn't. This story follows two teenagers just starting their Senior year at the small town high school. We're going to call these two teens Elle, a rather pretty, but chubby girl about 18, and John,17, an all American football star that is currently hiding in the closet.

Elle walked a little behind John on their way to school, looking through her backpack for something she had lost. She finally found the silky scarf at the bottom, slightly crushed, but still in good shape. She whipped it out and slung her backpack back across her shoulders. She stopped walking and tied the scarf through her hair like a headband. She had been late and John had insisted they be early for school to find which classes they had together. John stopped, realizing Elle was no longer behind him, and turned.

"We're gonna be LATE!" He said, a hand tightening on one strap of his backpack.

She rushed up to him and walked past him, "Then stop walking so slow." He easily caught up with her. They were a mismatched pair, Elle was rock-a-billy, for the lack of a better term. Her clothes leaned towards vintage and comfort, she didn't care to show off her body because she never was happy with it. When she was little, her mother had drilled into her head how ugly and fat she was. Now that her mother was dead, Elle didn't have to listen to it from anyone, but the damage had been done. John, being the all American boy, blonde, pale, and blue eyed to Elle's black hair and dark olive skin and dark eyes. John liked to call her eyes smoky bedroom eyes, she liked to call them muddy and flat.

They came onto the campus for the high school, already the campus teeming with life. There would be exactly 150 seniors in this years class and each one loved John and disliked Elle. John was Elle's only friend. And Elle was John's only friend, even though the whole school considered John their friend. John's secret was planted firmly in Elle's heart, to stay there until he was ready to give it up or she were to die.

The day went well, they had most of their classes together, save for Elle's music class, she played viola in the orchestra; and John's journalism class. He had taken the class for the teacher. A Mr. Little. John had such a crush on Mr. Little and loved to watch him under the guise of listening to music through his headphones. Because John was the star of the football team he could get away with just about anything in the school. Mr. Little's class was lax, with a couch and no seating arrangements. As long as students turned in some kind of written word at the end of class, Mr. Little was happy. John, never without his headphones and iPod, sat a little away from a group of 'friends', his headphones on and his head down. He didn't listen to music, but to the people talking around him. When he removed his headphones, people would hear music, like they did as John removed them as the class got up to leave. He saw Elle through the door in the hall as he stuffed his notebooks into his bag. He was the last to leave and Mr. Little smiled at him. John almost swooned as he left, bumping into Elle.

Later that day, as they sat in Elle's room listening to her record collection, he gushed on about Mr. Little, "...so tall. I love a tall man, he can't be any shorter then 6'4. I Swear. And his hair...oh... have you noticed the way it catches the light? It auburn with glints of ginger..."

Elle rolled her eyes from the floor where she did her homework, "In love again, huh."

She got a pillow in the head for her comment. John looked at the clock and sighed, "I have practice, will you come?"

"I don't like coming to your practices. The boys jeer at me." She said, not looking up from her text book.

"Jeer? Since when do you use words like jeer?" He stood, brushing cat hair off his sweater and grabbing his bag.

"Since I looked at a dictionary." She closed her text book, plainly grumpy about something.

"What's wrong?" He asked, setting his bag down again, "You don't get this snarky unless its your time of the month and that isn't for another two weeks."

She bit her lip and then pulled a note from her binder, "I found this in my locker today."

He took it and opened it. It was a casually flowing handwriting style, not scratchy like most high school writing.

Elle

I admired you from afar last year.
You're beauty makes make a rose blush.
Meet me in room 1305 at five o'clock today.

Your secret admirer

John smirked, "So someone likes you, what's up?"

Elle snatched the note back, "I don't like the feeling of it, John. The language doesn't sound like anyone I know from school. 'You're beauty makes a rose blush'? No one from our high school is that romantic. The most romance that goes on in this town is a six pack and a secluded back seat of a pickup truck."

"Ah, the backseat of a pickup, how I remember those times well..." John snorted, "I'll go with you, ok?"

"You can't, practice remember?" Elle stuffed the note into her binder, "I won't go."

"Chicken." John grabbed his bag again and stopped at the threshold of her bedroom door, "You don't want to admit you want someone to like you. You're very closed off, Elle. Stop being afraid to find someone."

She turned away, "I'm 18, I don't want to have to think of finding someone..."

"This is practice for later in life, Elle."

Those words are probably what brought Elle to room 1305 at five o'clock that same day. She didn't realize until coming down the hall that the room belonged to the journalism teacher. She blinked, opening the door, peering inside. It was dark, the door had no window, so she opened the door further to admit more light to see. She noticed a light coming from the supply room and frowned. If this was some kind of cruel joke, she would find out who did it and make them pay dearly for messing with her heart. She left the door open and walked deeper into the room. She touched the supply closet door and it opened slowly to a single candle in the middle of the small room and a rose sitting on the desk with the candle. In one corner of the room stood Mr. Little. He looked at her, a smile on his mouth, his hands clasped in front of him. She blinked and turned, "Fuck this."

"No wait, Ellinore, please." He had reached out, crossing what little distance there was and gently touched her arm. She turned back to him, narrowing her eyes at him, "This is wrong."

"What's wrong is that I had to wait so long to declare myself to you." He stepped back into the room, gently guiding her. She let him, unsure of why.

"You're a teacher, you should know better." She accused, not noticing the door closing on its own.

"I'm a man, and not so much older then you. I'm only 22. I took this job for experience." He said as he held the rose out to her.

"I bet you use that line on all the legal girls of this school, I'm reporting you." She turned to go, but he hand her arm again, his other hand running through her hair, sliding the scarf away, "No... no...let me...touch you..."

She froze, turning in his grasp as he looked at the scarf, the silk sliding through his fingers like water. Within a few moments, he had changed. The scarf did something to him as he swiftly un did the knot of the scarf and wrapped it around Elle's neck. It tightened as he pulled on it, sending her to her knees. denim met hard linoleum and concrete. She didn't dare move, and couldn't.

She never told John, didn't even write it down in her diary, but at night, when she masturbated, one hand under the cool sheet, the other wrapped around her own throat. The control of her lungs lacking the air needed to live, it satisfied a hunger that trying to kill herself couldn't fix. Hose did he know? Or did he know? Was he like her in the need for this? If he was or not, he had her. She could feel his knees pressing into her back, the bulge of his pants just at the back of her neck. He moved her shoulder length hair away so he could see her neck and the way the scarf pressed into the olive colored flesh. The scarf was navy blue with red poka dots, what made her think of the poka dots as she started to feel light headed, she didn't know. She was becoming warm, not just in her face as she choked, but her body rose to the arousal of her secret desire.

She felt the tightness of Mr. Little's pants grow at the back of her neck. It was tight and hot, maybe it was just her, this hotness. She couldn't hear anything but the roaring in her ears. She closed her eyes against the slight light of the candle, an explosion of fireworks dances behind her eyes as she sagged forward from Mr. Little, her tongue poking out between her know blue lips. There was a gasp and she fell to the floor, coughing and trying to catch her breath. A moment passed before she could breath raggedly. She turned on her back, looking up at the horrified looking Mr. Little, the scarf still in his hands. The front of his khaki slack were discolored from his release. He looked red, from embarrassment or from the stimulation, Elle couldn't be sure.

She felt hot, she burned with arousal for him. How had this man hit on her one secret fantasy? Luck of the draw, and what luck it was. She crawled onto her hands and knees, moving to him. She clutched at the front of his pants and numbly fumbled for his zipper. He was taken by surprise and fell backward, landing awkwardly on his side. She dug her long, black fingernails into his thighs and forced him on his butt. He gasped, his fingers tightening on the scarf as she dragged his half hard cock from his boxers. She looked up and realized, John was right, Mr. Little's hair did glint ginger in the light and she closed her mouth around the head of his cock and sucked gently.

Taking in what release wasn't wasted on the inside of his boxers, she drank it up, letting the salt linger on her tongue and the hot juice grow cooler in her mouth. He sucked in air, from pain or surprise, she didn't give a damn as she dipped her head down, her nails digging deeper into clothed flesh. She dug in behind his knees into the softest flesh.

Bruises already rose on her neck from the scarf, and she could barely swallow now from the swelling, but as his second load hit her fast, she made sure to take it all down. She rose, nipping the tip of him with her teeth, drawing blood. She licked it off her lips and sat back, looking at him in the light of the half burned down candle. She reached over and jerked the scarf from him.

He seemed to come out of a trance as she did and blinked several times. She crawled over his legs, pressing the crotch of her jeans to his still stiff cock. She pressed hard as she ran her tongue over his lips and then breathed into his ear, "I have you now, Little. You're mine." She smiled, letting her teeth rest on his earlobe. She had seen women do this in movies. She always found it sexy and hoped it came off the way it was suppose to.

She raked her nails up his back and pulled away from him, standing quickly, tying the scarf around her neck to hid the red and purple marks on her neck. She straightened her clothes and ran a hand through her hair a few times, "You're mine." She repeated, "And if I find that you have been with any other girl in this school or even in this town... I will make you sorry." She gave him a smile and opened the door, slipping out into the dark classroom.

Elle checked the hallway, no one was there, good. She checked her watch in the light of the hall and saw she would just make it to meet John after practice. She walked outside into the bright and crisp fall sunshine, thinking, John's birthday was in a couple months. Maybe by then, she would have the best birthday present for him, if things worked out.

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