His Little Slut

We were sitting in the cafeteria, trading embarrassing stories, as I stabbed the tines of my fork against my thigh.

Clara, the beautiful, brilliant sun of our little solar system, threw her head back laughing, exposing her long, slender throat and dainty collarbones.

I giggled, fantasizing about how it would feel to strangle her.

The story, an anecdote about our first time partying, cast me as the dimwitted butt of the joke, like her stories always did.

Never mind that it was embellished – Clara's stories always were.

In fact, the person who'd actually gone into a bedroom with a senior and come out with chlamydia had been her, but I didn't dare to correct her. One word about what really happened that night and I'd spend the remainder of our time at high school as a social leper.

So, I smiled and played along.

After all, I'd been playing the empty-headed bimbo foil to Clara for years now.

Never mind that I'd be taking college classes too, if Mom could afford it.

"-Kelly?"

At the sound of my name, I perked up.

"Sorry, what?"

Clara shot a glance at Sierra, who put her hand in front of her mouth to hide her sneer.

Licking her lips, Clara looked back at me. "I asked if you're sure you can get the stuff for Friday night."

I nodded. I was used to skimming extra doses off of my prescription Xanax for Clara, and I'd set aside several in anticipation of tomorrow night.

We were going to party, get high and have a sleepover at Clara's house.

Or, at least they were.

I was going to wait until they passed out to go fuck Clara's dad.

….

Clara's house was a mammoth monument to upper-middle-class tastelessness.

Located in the darkest, most white-bread heart of the suburbs, the two-story, finished-basement paean to pretension was Clara's father's half of the marital assets, sundered after a nasty divorce.

But, for all intents and purposes, the house was Clara's alone.

Her father, George, spent most of his time away on business, and had for years. This fact not only drove his wife into the arms of the contractor who'd renovated the kitchen, but also made him an enigmatic and fascinating figure to me.

In all the time I'd known Clara, I could count on one hand the number of words I'd said to her father.

But, oh, did he make an impression...

I looked at him now, his broad back to me as he rinsed dishes in the kitchen sink. I let my gaze trail lower, admiring the way his torso tapered down to his waist and the firm roundness of his buttocks.

"Hey, Dad!" Clara called as I closed the door behind us.

"Hi, Pumpkin!" He turned, and I got a glimpse of his rich, brown eyes and sharp, stubbled jawline. "How was school?"

"Good. Got an A on that Calculus test."

She hadn't – she'd gotten a D- and an admonition to come in next week for a retake.

Not that I was going to correct her.

His full lips curved with pride, "Great job, honey!" Noticing us, he nodded, "Hi, girls."

Sierra and I chorused, "Hi, Mr. Coleman."

"So," his attention turned back to Clara, "What have you three got planned for tonight?"

Clara answered, "Well, there's this pizza place that just opened downtown, so we're going to go give that a try and then catch the new Marvel movie."

Total fucking lie. We were headed out to Scott's place for a party.

"Who's driving?"

"We're getting an Uber – I hate parking Downtown."

That much was true – we were getting an Uber. But, we were also planning on getting totally blitzed – and even Clara wasn't irresponsible enough to drive like that.

"When do you think you'll be back?"

"Well, the movie gets out at ten, so maybe ten-thirty?"

Another lie. If we stepped foot in the house before midnight, I'd be shocked.

"Okay. Call me if you're going to be late?"

"Of course!" Clara giggled, before turning away to lead us upstairs to her bedroom.

When her door closed behind us, Clara dropped the perfect daughter act and launched into a detailed rant about how much better it was at her mom and stepfather's house, and how she'd move in with them full time if it wasn't so far away from our school.

I listened, looking rapt while Sierra stepped into her bathroom to change out of her school clothes into her party outfit.

"-like, my bedroom in their house is almost three times as big as this one. I swear to God, I'm totally moving in with them after graduation."

I nodded like I cared. In the back of my mind though, I thought about the handful of times I'd met her stepfather. I couldn't explain it, but he'd left me deeply creeped out. Something about the slimy feel of his eyes had me convinced that if Clara did move in, she'd have to start sleeping with the door locked.

But that was her business, not mine.

I was the last to go in the bathroom to change, and the instant I closed the door behind me, it started.

"...Tyler's saying he's got a new hookup for xannies."

"For real?"

"His brother's at college now and he knows a guy."

"Thank the fuck Christ..."

"Right? Like, I know she makes us look smarter by comparison, but there's only so much I can take-"

I tuned them out. It was a true testament to their lack of self-awareness that they didn't know how fucking loud they were.

Undressing, I paused when the last scrap of clothing hit the tile floor. In the mirror, I turned and twisted, examining myself with cool eyes.

Clara and Sierra could spew their self-deluded garbage behind my back, call me every name in the book – I didn't care.

As I assessed my naked form in the mirror, I smirked.

All that mattered was tonight.

Tonight, I was going to seduce Clara's precious, fuckable daddy, and then after that every barb, every hateful word out of her mouth would be soothed by the knowledge of what his cock tasted like, by the echo of his moans, by the memory of riding him in his bed.