“Jesus, Simon, it’s only a blowie, what’s the big deal?” Claire was a bit taken back. Nobody had refused getting head from her before; the very idea was ludicrous. He’d helped her out, she was just returning the favour – a little quid pro quo is what makes the world go around.
But Simon was literally shaking, knocking stuff over on the desk as he scrambled to collect his things, panic lending a touch of mania to his actions.
“Sorry, but I think I need to be going,” he spluttered, making for the door. And abruptly, there was a Simon-sized hole in the room. She really hadn’t expected him to freak out like that. She did feel a little guilty, but still wasn’t really sure what the fuss was about. She shrugged, and gathered up the plates and glasses they’d used, taking them down to the dishwasher.
“Sorry if I upset you,” she said to Simon, who was frantically tying his laces.
“It’s fine, don’t worry,” he flapped. “Just wasn’t expecting… that. That’s not why I came, not why I wanted to help you.”
His pupils were still wide, his hands shaking. She’d clearly terrified him. It wasn’t at all the reaction she’d anticipated. She wanted to hug him, to apologise, but realised any physical contact at this point would be counterproductive. She just had to watch him leave, confused by a teenager who was more scared than excited at the prospect of sex.
///
You fucking idiot, Simon, he thought. What the hell did you just do?
He wasn’t normally one for using bad language, but this situation deserved it, so he let himself off.
All you had to do was keep your cool, and right now you’d be upstairs, and your secret crush would be sucking you off. Instead, here we are, walking home, nursing the world’s hardest boner, looking ridiculous and feeling ashamed. That was probably your one chance with her, and you blew it. It’s like Sandy Shores all over again. Even if she hadn’t thought you were a bit weird before, she certainly does now. Idiot!
Consumed with shame and regret, he trudged the streets back home.
He thought about stopping; turning around, knocking on the door. Maybe she’d throw it open, standing in her sexy underwear, and take him right there on the hallway rug. Ha! More likely she’d slam it in his face, cursing him for the insult. Or worse, claiming he’d somehow forced her into sex, and land him right in the shit.
He knew his chance was gone forever. And yet… he couldn’t stop thinking about her. About her cute button nose, splattered with freckles. Her hair, perfectly framing her face, with a gentle wave over her shoulders. Of her firm boobs, pinched waist, cute butt.
And yes, of her on her knees before him, reaching for his zipper, licking her lips. Looking straight into his eyes. Wanting him.
His hand blurred in the privacy of his bedroom, as he played the scene over and over in his mind. If he never saw her again, that moment would be enough to sustain a thousand lonely nights.
CHAPTER TWO
Claire wasn’t sure if Simon was avoiding her, but it took her a while to get him on his own. She couldn’t just walk up to him in the common room; if they were seen together then her friends would want to know why she was hanging out with “that loser”. The truth – that she needed help with her lessons – was if anything more socially tragic than the idea of her dating the school nerd. So, she had to get him alone.
She finally collared him by the lockers early one morning. “Hey Simon, how are ya?”
“Fine thanks.” Brief, polite, dismissive.
She swallowed her pride and ploughed on. “Look, I’m sorry I acted all inappropriate last week. I really didn’t mean to upset you, not after how helpful you’d been.”
“S’okay.”
“Would you… look, this is real awkward for me to ask, but could you come back and help out again?”
Simon looked dubious.
“Please? Pretty please? I promise to be on my best behaviour. Scouts honour!” She saluted, and smiled.
Simon was lost in that smile, in the twinkling of her eyes. How could he possibly say no, turn down the opportunity to spend more time in her company?
Which is how he found himself once more kneeling on her soft bedroom floor carpet, staring in wonder at her impressive chest.
“I will NOT be defeated!” he declared, in his best comic-book villain voice.
“Oh, come on, it’s eeeasy peasy!” she mocked. “Try it Simon, it’s easy as pie!”
What an extraordinary thing for her to say, Simon thought. And his own thought of the word extraordinary sparked another memory… it was a terrible impression, but what she’d said was almost word for word what the Master said in that old Doctor Who anniversary special, just before the Cybermen got wiped out by the chessboard. She can’t possibly have been quoting that, there’s just no way she would know the reference. More likely she was just using a common phrase.
But it would be remiss of him not to at least try the sequence. 3 – 1 – 4 – 1 – 5 – 9. He gave the padlock a rattle, but nope, nothing.
“Hahaha, I knew you’d try that. You’re so easy to play, Simon.”
“You’re not changing this when I’m gone, are you?”
“I wouldn’t dream of cheating,” she promised, pulling the sweetest innocent angel face, then giggling.
All the while they were going through revision – day after day, session after session – he kept trying different combinations, but to no avail. He felt a bit ashamed that she’d bested him in this, if he was being honest with himself. But he was prepared to admit there was stuff he didn’t know, and he didn’t always have to be the smartest person in the room. The combination’s probably something stupid anyway, he said to himself. He turned his mind to the revision at hand.