Paying It Back

We pulled up into a parking space directly in front of the shiny new building, its frontage aglow in the waning sunlight of this early summer evening. It would look even more impressive after dark, when the tasteful lighting took over.

"I feel like a fraud, you know," my husband Stephen breathed, as he put the car into park and switched off the ignition. I reached over and put a hand on his thigh, red nails shining against the black of his dinner suit.

"Honey, this is your night. Just enjoy it."

"This is for you, just as much as it is for me. I wouldn't be here without you."

"I love you," I said, leaning across the car and giving him a quick peck on the cheek. My lipstick blushed on his face; I wiped it off with my thumb. "This is a lovely thing you've done, for the kids coming through now. You can't have hated your whole time here, surely."

He looked over at me, and his smile returned. "Oh, I don't know. It had its moments, I suppose." He touched my knee, started to slide his hand up my thigh, tucking it under the short dress.

"Steve," I warned him. "Don't be a naughty boy. You'll get us sent to the headmaster's office."

He laughed. "Things didn't go so badly for us last time we were in there, as I recall." The spark was definitely back in his eyes. "Maybe we can sneak back inside, for old times' sake?"

"Ewww, TMI!" squealed our daughter Sophie from the back seat. "I do not need to be hearing this. Can't you get a room, or something?"

I nodded towards the building visible through the windscreen. "Can do better than that. Got us a whole new building, right there."

"Mum!" She reached for the door handle. "I can't sit here listening to this, with you two all over each other. Like, so cringe." It sounded harsh, but she said it with a smile. Better to have parents still madly in love than at each other's throats, surely?

"Honey, before you go," Steve called after her, "I've got something for you."

If Sophie was expecting a corsage, she was about to be bitterly disappointed. Steve fished into his jacket pocket, brought out a pack of condoms, passed it over.

"What the hell, dad? Is this some kind of joke?"

"No joke," he insisted, although his smile suggested otherwise. "You never can be too careful. I've heard all kinds of tales about what goes on at these things."

She rolled her eyes, but nevertheless snatched the pack away and concealed it in her clutch purse before running off into the building.

"Yes Cinderella, you shall go to the ball," I muttered. Whatever had happened to my little girl? Not so little any more. She was now, officially, a woman. "Come on, we'll be late," I said, popping the door and swinging my long legs out of the car.

"It's my party," he said. "I can be late if I like." But he got out, walked round to my side, held out an arm to help me up - the car was so low, and the heels so high, that I couldn't manage it alone. The Merc bipped and its lights flashed as we made our way into the auditorium.

The foyer was a tornado of guests - talking, eating canapes, drinking champagne. Two very distinct groups: staff and honoured guests to one side, here for the opening ceremony; and pupils on the other, waiting for the boring speeches to be over and all the fuddy-duddies to leave so they could get on with their Prom. Everyone dressed to the nines - dapper suits and ballgowns, hair styled within an inch of its life.

A shrill note rang out as the Headmistress tapped a knife against her champagne glass. "If I could have your attention, ladies and gentlemen?"

She welcomed everyone to the school on this special occasion - the opening of this new state-of-the-art auditorium. She looked forward to future performances in the space. For tonight, the automatic seating had been withdrawn, and the space given over to tables and a dance floor ready for senior prom.

"...all this would not have been possible without the generous support of local businessman, philanthropist and Cauldwell High alumnus, Stephen Berkley!"

A huge round of applause summoned my husband to the stage to say a few words about his love for the school, all his happy memories here. Almost all of which was bullshit. His high school life was a miserable hell, and hand on heart I had to take my share of the blame for that. But I like to think I made it up to him in the end. And now, he felt moved enough to give kids like him a space in which they could express themselves. I was so proud.

He didn't talk for long, but he moved the crowd nonetheless. That assuredness in public speaking, ability to bring a crowd with him, is what had helped him succeed in business and now as an actor. His charisma shone through. A far cry from the boy who came to this school.

He pulled the cord and the velvet curtain parted to reveal the plaque behind. My breath caught and my eyes blurred almost before I realised what I was seeing. Almost.

The Jacqueline Theatre.

He had the biggest shit-eating grin that I can remember as he walked over to me. "Told you this was for you, not me."

"You bastard," I said. "You stupid, soppy bastard." And I grabbed his face and swallowed his mouth.

Eventually, I had to come back up for air. "We're making a scene," he whispered into my ear, his breath tickling over my neck.

"Let them watch," I moaned.

That made him chuckle. "Perhaps we should be going. Leave the youngsters to their prom."

I took his hand, started walking out of the foyer.

"This isn't the way to the car," he pointed out.

"Damn right it isn't", I said, heading for the backstage doors. "We have a building to christen." I dragged him along by the arm. "Oh, and by the way... if this is some elaborate joke about how I've had the whole school inside of me," I growled, "then I'm gonna rip your cock off, dice it and serve it up to you in a spicy ragu."

"Darling, the phrase 'cavernous interior' never even crossed my mind," he said, gesturing to the marble cathedral we were leaving behind.

"You know, I hear divorce can prove real expensive," I mused. "Good job you're such a great lay."

We skipped towards the darkened corridors, and I couldn't help but reminisce on the events here at this school, at our own Prom, that brought this ridiculous, generous man back into my life.

///

Rivers of water ran down my lithe teenage body as I rinsed away the last of the soapy bubbles and let the water soothe me.

Biggest night of my life, I thought. Definitely in the running for Prom Queen.

I ran my hands up my silky smooth legs. Perfect. Then I considered the razor in my hands, glanced down. I'd always kept myself tidy - gymnastics, cheerleading and swim team made that essential. But dare I go completely bare down there?

If not tonight, then when? I asked myself. It's a special occasion after all, so treat yourself. Besides, you never know when you might get lucky. I cocked my leg and, very carefully, got to work.

Later, I was grateful for the idea - the silkiness of the stockings and tiny thong underneath the slinky prom dress felt amazing against my freshly shaved skin. It made me feel even more sexy, confident, and slightly naughty. The perfect blend for the evening ahead.

I met Trish and the others in the gymnasium, which was trashily decorated for Prom with balloons, streamers and shit. Trish wore a skintight bottle green dress that highlighted her curves and her flaming red hair.

"I see you smuggled in a couple of friends," I said, nodding to the deep V-neck of the dress. She was in real danger of falling out.

"You can talk, bitch."

I looked down, smiling, bouncing on the balls of my feet and making my chest jiggle. "What, these little things? I dunno where they came from. Come on Trish, give us a twirl."

She span on the spot so we could appreciate the three-sixty view. "Damn girl, that's a fine ass. Wish I had your booty. How the hell do you avoid VPL in a dress that tight?"

"Easy, Jay," she replied. "Don't wear any."

"Ewww, TMI."

"Well, you asked. And besides, it'll save time later with Andy."

"No, really, TMI," I insisted, and headed over to the punch bowl.

Wandering through the crowds of students, most of whom I realised I'd never see again, was a surreal experience. Not that it would be much of a loss to lose contact with most of them. Case in point - a wolf whistle rang out as Trish and I walked past Dave and his gang.

"Heads up dudes, the entertainment's arrived!"

"Fuck you, Dave," Trish called back, giving him the finger.

"That's the idea, you sluts," he leered, causing his neanderthal henchmen to break into laughter.

I didn't even look back. There was a time I might have been flattered by the attention and gone along with it for a good time, even if it was a short time. Been there, done that, got the cum-stained T-shirt. But that was before I realised I could do so much better. I wanted a real connection, a soulmate, not just a fuck buddy.

"Look at that sad sack of shit," Trish said, nodding to the chairs near the wall at the back of the gym. I couldn't see at first, through the shadows, but as the spotlights swung around the room I caught a glimpse of the object of her pity.

It was sad geeky Stephen, slumped in a chair, the most indecipherable look on his face. His tie was slightly askew, not to mention his hair, as he nursed a glass of punch.

"Come on, this'll be fun," she said, and pulled me over towards him. I was a little slow on the uptake; before I realised what she was up to, we were standing in front of him.

"Hey Steve," she said, in the most alluring tone she could muster - which wasn't very, considering how slurred her voice was from the booze she'd drunk before coming out for the night. She leant over to talk to him, purposefully swinging her boobs forwards and nearly out of the low-cut dress. I watched Steve go practically cross-eyed as he tried to both look and not look at them.

"Would you like to dance?" Trish asked him.

Steve didn't seem to know how to respond. "I... er..." he managed, before licking his lips. But he did manage to cross his legs - maybe trying to hide a developing hard-on?

"I said, do you want to dance? With me, or with Jay?"

He looked at her, then at me, then back at her, then back at me. He held my gaze for a beat, then looked down at his lap. I'd never seen him so sad.

"Well?" Trish insisted.

"Yes," he replied. "I'd love to."

"I bet you would, you pathetic loser!" she shouted back, in triumph, before laughing dragging me away and leaving him to wallow in miserable rejection.

That was mean, even for her. "Was that really necessary?" I asked her.

"Oh, lighten up, would ya? Teasing him's just too much fun. Come on, I need more punch." She staggered away towards the fake bar that had been set up along the edge of the gym hall.

I looked back at the chairs, intending to apologise to Steve for her behaviour. And for mine. We'd been friends once, though that seemed like an eternity ago. I felt bad for being mean to him, for not calling Trish out on it earlier. Years earlier.

But the chairs were empty. Steve had gone.

///

I looked around the room - there was no sign of him anywhere. No, wait; a door was just swinging closed, one that led into the corridor beyond. I headed over, pushed it open, just to see him disappear around the corner at the end.

"Steve! Wait!" I called out.

"Leave me alone!" he shouted back. I heard his footsteps speed up.

Dammit, my outfit really didn't have the necessary support for running. I lifted the dress skirt and started to chase after him.

"Please Steve, let me talk to you!"

"I said fuck off!" he shouted back. "I don't want to talk to you! I don't want to see any of you fuckers ever again!" More footsteps. "I knew I shouldn't have come tonight," I think I heard him repent.

I thought I might be catching him, so I put in an extra burst of speed. Mistake. The heel caught under me, and with an "Oooof, fuck!" I faceplanted into the floor.

"Ah, shit," I heard him say. I looked up to see him turn and start walking back towards me. "Are you okay?"

Why did he care about me, after all I'd done - or not done - to him?

I smoothed the dress back over myself. No harm done there. But the heel had snapped off my stiletto. I took the other one off, so I wasn't walking like a total weirdo, and hobbled over to the bench seat at the side of the corridor. Steve caught my arm and led me by the elbow. "My ankle's a bit sore but I don't think it's twisted," I said. Then I looked at him, properly, for the first time in years. Gone was that look of distaste, replaced now by what seemed to be genuine concern. "Thanks for helping me," I said.

"You're welcome." He sat beside me in silence.

I didn't really know how to start. But I knew I had to. "Look, Steve, I'm sorry. Sorry I've been..."

"Such a bitch?" he offered.

It was what I was thinking, but even so it was a hell of a slap to have him actually say it. I took a deep breath. "Yeah. You're right. I've been such a bitch to you."

In the moment, I wasn't really sure how it started. "What happened to us?" I asked him. "We used to be so close. Then, one day, you weren't speaking to me anymore."

He looked at me, mouth agape. "You're unbelievable, Jackie. You think it was me that changed? You're the one who went all Mean Girls when you became a teenager. All that happened to me was I lost my best friend." And then, under his breath, "My only friend."

Was that fair, I wondered. I tried to think back.

Steve and I had been thick as thieves growing up. We lived on the same street, out on the edge of town. There weren't any other kids around and we just fell together. Long dusty summers were spent roaming the woods, climbing trees, making dens, skinny dipping in the stream in the summer and tobogganing on tea-trays in the winter. The issue of our genders never really arose. We were just kids, doing what kids do, with no care for the world. We were bright youngsters with a great future ahead of us. I suppose you could have considered me a bit of a tomboy, and we were both a little bit nerdy.

But high school was different. Being a bright geeky kid did you no favours there, it made you a target for the bullies. We both bore the brunt of it... for a while, until puberty hit and we started to grow up. And it hit me particularly hard. My body developed faster than my emotional intelligence. All I knew was that suddenly I was popular. I had an inkling of why - I wasn't blind - and I leant into it. Things that used to be hard were now easy; the boys wanted to spend time with me, and the girls wanted to be my friend. Or at least that's what I thought.

But what about Steve? I genuinely hadn't really thought about it before. He wasn't ripped and sporty; he was gangly and awkward. I thought he'd pulled away from me; but now I was starting to realise he'd just been trying to avoid the company I had started keeping. That I hung out with the very people who bullied him. And even if I hadn't been awful to him myself, directly, I hadn't done anything to stop it.

I tried to put some of this into words and have it out with him. He was reluctant to talk at first, but slowly we opened up to each other. Soon enough we were chatting away, laughing at pranks and mishaps from years ago. But he still seemed a little wary, on edge. That was to be expected, I suppose. Couldn't put aside everything that had happened after just one conversation. But it felt like maybe we could become friends again, one day.

The conversation started to dry up. I looked at him in his ill-fitting suit and remembered that this was prom night. It's supposed to be a special occasion. And it was his prom, as much as mine. I stood up, held out my hand to him. "Well, how about that dance?" I asked him.

He looked me in the eyes. I realised, then, that not for a moment had his eyes flickered down to my chest. God, I hope he's not gay, I found myself thinking - and then wondered, suddenly, why I should care?

"I dunno... not sure I want to go back in there."

"Oh, come on. It's prom. You have to have at least one dance. It's the law."

Reluctantly, he followed me back into the gymnasium. We headed onto the dance floor, and I turned to face him. We shuffled back and forth for a while, briefly. Nobody was paying us any attention, which I think suited him just fine. Most of our classmates were drunk, busy snogging, or both.

"Come here," I said, trying to pull him towards me. He didn't seem to want to get close. "For fuck's sake Steve, it's a slow dance. Will you just grab my goddamn ass and do this properly? I mean, it's not like we've not wrestled and stuff. You've had your hands on me before."

"That was different," he said. "And it was a long time ago. Before..."

Before what, I wondered. I grabbed his hips and pulled him closer. Then I got the point. It was pressing into my hip - long, hard and hot, trapped between us.

I leant back. "Steve - do you... fancy me?"

He looked at me like I had two heads. Like he couldn't believe I had asked such a ridiculous question. "Jackie, I... how can you not... you know I do. You know I've been in love with you since we were, what, eight years old?!"

"But we were just kids then, that's not love." Is it? A childhood infatuation, perhaps. "You're so sweet." I kissed his cheek, and he trembled. I felt his erection twitch and throb between us.

"I missed you," he said, relaxing into my arms, nearly falling into me.

I kissed his forehead. I realised that the world around had gone quiet, out of focus. In his arms I felt strangely calm, as if all my cares and worries had melted away.

I looked down at him, into his puppy-dog eyes. His gaze grabbed my soul and pulled me down. Our lips met, and it was like the lights were dimmed and the sound system switched off. We were in a world of our own. All I could feel were his lips on mine, his body pressed against me, his tongue sliding into my mouth, his cock hard and throbbing on my hip. A dam burst, a dam that I didn't know was there, holding back years of supressed feelings and emotions. I wanted him, needed him, all of him, inside me - emotionally and physically.

I broke off the kiss. "Come with me," I said, dragging him back to the corridor.

///

"Where are we going?"

"This way," I said, heading past the staff room towards the offices. I stopped at the end of the short corridor and started working on the number pad next to the door.

"No way, we can't go in there!"

"It's private. Nobody will find us in here."

"We can't break into the headmaster's office! We'll get in so much trouble!"

My fingers were trembling, I couldn't get the code done right. "Who cares? We're out of this shithole soon enough anyway." The entry coder bipped and the door gave; I pushed it open and shoved Steve inside. I quickly reprogrammed the coder before following him in; now nobody could get in because I was the only one with the combination.

"How the fuck did you know the PIN?" he asked, incredulous.

I smiled, sidling up to the desk. "Oh, I've been in here often enough, watched him tap the code in so many times." I bent over the desk, flipped the dress up over my ass, flashing Steve with the full moon. "I'm such a bad girl," I purred, bent over the hard wooden desk right in front of him.

I didn't expect what happened next. Steve's eyes were transfixed on my perky ass, on the thong trapped between my cheeks, on the suspender belt and stockings I wore under the prom dress. He slapped my ass so hard with his hand that I felt my butt jiggle.

I was already wet, when we were snogging in the gymnasium. But now I absolutely flooded. I had to have him, right now.

"Oh my god I'm so sorry, I don't know what came over me," he was saying. I was barely listening.

"Get in the chair," I growled.

He looked at me, all puzzled.