This is my first foray into shorter length erotica.
What you are about to read is series of short stories, each of them meant to be separate in their own right, but still chronological and involving the same 2-5 characters.
*****
Part 1: The Price and General Juiciness of Georgia Peaches.
My 18th birthday was off to a rousing start. Who doesn't want to spend the evening of a momentous day trapped inside an international airpot in Charlotte, North Carolina, waiting for the announcement as to wether the freak snow storm currently pelting the entire East Coast is going to mean you lose your hard-earned spot at the National Speech and Debate Finals in Boston? And to be in the company of eight other nerds, misfits, and outcasts from my highly prestigious private school, overseen by the completely apathetic and obviously furious Spanish teacher, Ms. Gonzales, had made the entire experience thus far, memorable.
I resigned myself to the inevitable waiting, pushed my earbuds further in my ears, all the while hoping the podcasts would drown out the incessant hum of the fluorescent lights, and settled into a very uncomfortable chair to go over my notes on the several possible debate topics. My attention only remained intact for only a moment. My classmates proved to be much more interesting fodder for my distracted thoughts than the pros and cons of "limiting the scope and reach of the fifth amendment to the US Constitution."
A group of three girls, all sophomores, sat facing each other cross-legged on the grey carpet. The Humorous Interpretation girls, a.k.a theater chicks. I had watched them rehearse, both together and individually over the course of the semester, and still each of their 2 minute "comedy" pieces, usually fell pretty flat. The novel setting of the Charlotte International Airport did nothing to elevate their talents today.
Across from me, mirroring each other in an almost other-worldly fashion, were the Alexander twins, James and Jonathan. They were Freshmen, newly arrived from the mythical part of campus called, "The Middle School." Their arrival at "The Upper School" had taken little noticeable effect on the pair. They remained at each other's sides, rarely spoke to anyone else, earned near perfect scores in everything they did, ate lunch together, and, true to form, joined the Speech and Debate team in the Duo Interpretation event. Their ten minute repertoire was actually rather impressive. They had had their entire lifetimes to get in synch and it showed in their performances.
Walking along the floor-to-ceiling windows like a small pride of supremely nervous lions stalking their prey, two well-coifed and serious Juniors, one male and one female, nearly paced holes in the carpet as they studied the papers held in their hands. Every now and again, one or both of them would look up at the ceiling and begin talking to themselves, asking things like, "what is the motivation!? I can't just say something without motivation! It won't be true! Real!" I loved watching the Dramatic Interpretation people. Especially when they were preparing their Shakespeare. Everyone always thinks they will be able to find a new and un-boring way to perform Hamlet or Romeo and Juliet that the judges won't fall asleep a quarter of the way through. At this point, it's all been done.
That's why I chose Policy Debate. It is simple, to the point, objective, and constantly relevant, and supremely logical. All of which, worked for me.
The wild card of our group was the newest member, Daniel. A senior, like me, he joined the team at the behest of the lacrosse coach, Mr. Whalen, essentially for the extra credit it provided. Apparently, Daniel was not doing well in his English classes, so the rumor went; he needed the credit in order to avoid summer and school after graduation in May.
Not that I was complaining. Not at all.
Daniel was a welcome change of pace after three-and-a-half years of the bottom rung of the high school social ladder. It was interesting to observe one of the "gods of the school" up close and personal. To nerds, it was like observing a particularly interesting science experiment, but in your own comfort zone.
Normally, my interaction with the jock set was reserved for the occasional tutoring session or the odd bullying incident here and there. I was decently physically coordinated, as far as that goes for a nerd, so I avoided most of the worst locker room high jinks. But intelligence will always be targeted, even in a private school with a 100% graduation rate and a price tag to match. An academic scholarship student, I did my best to stay out of trouble; for the most part, the jocks obliged. There were others on the speech and debate team who had received far harsher treatment than I.
Daniel had been quiet since we arrived at the airport. He had taken the previous three flight delay announcements with little evident care. His blue and green backpack was stashed between his feet and he had been reading, unmolested, for the past hour. Jane Austen, of all things. I assumed it must have been an assigned reading for some class.
He was short, only five seven, and compact. While he was solid muscle, (his biceps stretched his black polo shirt rather drastically) he didn't appear bulky. And he seemed much more mature than his 18 years could account for. He had a five o'clock shadow at all times and his arms and legs were covered in thick black hair, not too much, but certainly a tribute to his Sicilian heritage. One of the perks of going to a small private school is you know nearly every minute detail about everyone else's family, including if they were Sicilian. His black hair was cut short but messily styled on the top and his brown eyes were large and intent. In short, he wasn't your every day jock type.
Or maybe it was just the Jane Austen clouding my judgement.
"Ladies and Gentlemen, may I have your attention please. Ladies and Gentlemen, may I have your attention please." The unidentifiable voice on the intercom carried only a few yards past the ticketing stand, but everyone turned to listen.
"We here at Delta regret to inform you that Flight 354 to Boston International has been cancelled due to inclement weather both here in Charlotte, and at the destination. Please accept our apologies and form and orderly line behind the counter to reschedule and rebook flights and other arrangements. Thank you, and again, we apologize for the inconvenience."
Well, fuck.
The past five hours of delay had been a waste, and now we weren't even going to make our flight. Which meant there was a distinct chance that we were going to miss the check in time for the team and be disqualified from winning any awards. We would be allowed to compete and perform, but on a feedback level only. We couldn't win or lose points or events. Even if we were deemed the best in the round, the actual winner would be the second place person.
All because of the goddamned snow.
Whose idea had it been to schedule an event in the middle of February in Boston?! Haven't people watched the news? Boston is a hell hole in February!
Ms. Gonzales told us to stay put while she figured out what was happening. The bus driver had returned to the school hours ago, so driving home was going to be an issue, even if the roads were navigable. Given the relative infrequency of snow below the Mason-Dixon line and the spotty, at best, record of plowing and salting major highways, automotive travel of any kind seemed unlikely. Most of us lived an hour away or more. A few minutes later she retuned with an envelope and some disappointing news.
"Okay," she began, the exhaustion evident in her voice, "we've been booked on a flight at 7:15 AM. That's the earliest we can get, but that means we will miss the 8:30 check in in Boston. So, I'm sorry folks, but we won't be bringing back any trophies this time around. We have vouchers for five rooms at the Holiday Inn and a van has already taken our luggage there. So, pair up. We will be staying overnight. I've already called the school and they have informed your parents so be ready for a call when you get settled. Everyone up! Come on, we got an early morning!"
The Theater Chicks quickly asked if they could all room together as a threesome and were given permission. The twins were a done deal before the option was available. Since there was an extra room, the Dramatic Interpretation kids each got their own room, which was all for the best considering the pacing and out-loud verbal acting games likely to take place until the wee hours of the morning. Ms. Gonzales wedged into the female actresses room.
Good luck Ms. Gonzales.
That left me and Daniel.
"Looks like that just leaves the two of us," Daniel mumbled.
"Yeah, guess so," I replied nonchalantly. "Must be weird for you to not be picked first, huh?"
I don't know why I said it. Perhaps I was just trying to lighten the mood with a little sarcasm. To my surprise, Daniel shot me a crooked smile.
"A little," he said as he hoisted his backpack onto his shoulders and made his way out of the terminal behind the others. I followed and did my best to ignore the blood pounding in my ears.
The Holiday Inn was exactly like you'd expect a Holiday Inn to be. Unremarkable and ordinary in every way. Daniel retrieved the room key card from Ms. Gonzales and handed me the spare. Considering we would only be here for a grand total of nine hours, I wondered in what circumstance I would actually need an extra key, but I took it from him without comment.
Everyone mumbled their "goodnights" and "see-you-in-the-morning's" as they slid their key card into the electronic locks and shuffled into their respective rooms, their recently retrieved luggage rolling behind them.
I followed Daniel into the room and flipped on the lights. The Queen sized beds and large TV were as to be expected.
"I'm exhausted." Daniel offered to the room, not really aiming his remark at me. "I'll take the bed closest to the window, if that's alright."
"Fine." I couldn't have cared less where either of us slept.
