6 comments/ 34891 views/ 1 favorites The Ice Cherry By: LawrenceD **A reader commented that a holiday story should have redemptive value, in the spirit of the season, and that, perhaps I fail to tap into that delirious, all-consuming happiness that each and every one of us must feel during the long, cold winter months. Of course, it could be that redemption—good or ill—is in the iris of the beholder. --Indeed, this story is all about Redemption. Here's to your 'Happily Ever-After'. Merry Holidays, Literoticans.** My father once said, 'Christmas is a time of giving. And if you have a gift, give greedily.' ** I love the town I come from. People are nice and all the kids get along. Well, Mercy Carter is a bitch. She pretended to be my friend for most of high school, but I've since seen her true side. She's nice to your face, but she'll stab a girl in the back. I'm not saying she even knows better. I mean, it's not like she's malicious on purpose. She just has a very low self-esteem. Plus, I mean, I think she was dropped on her egg-head as a child. We're all so excited because it's senior year, and winter break is almost here. I don't think much about the future. Or try not to. We've only a half-year left before school's out forever. And maybe I'm the only one, but I want to stay here. Everybody calls me Cherry. It's been my nickname for as long as I can remember. Guess 'cause I've always had these really red lips. A little cherry lip gloss on top and it's out of control. My mother's friends used to say I must sneak out to the garden and suck beets to tempt the boys, but nope. Always had me these red lips. What can I say? It's funny to think about. I haven't been home in almost three weeks. Time's been such a blur. We're just having so much fun with a long vacation right around the corner. Did I mention, we're all getting ready to graduate soon? Eighteen and unleashed on the world—look out! It's been crazy lately. So many parties. Many of my friends have beautiful homes, and their parents almost never seem to be home—time shares in sunny off-map destinations, you know? Guess they don't really care. I'd so love that. If my parents were never home, I could see myself as quite the socialite. Well, not my mom. She's cool, I guess. My best friend, Amber Riddle, was having a party last night. Berkley Thomas was there. He's a year younger than us, but my God, he's so adorable and funny, so we let him hang out. Anyway, Berkley followed me to the garage where Amber's father keeps a refrigerator loaded with beer. I know Berkley likes me. He's practically asked me to run away with him a half dozen times. Berkley was telling me about his dad's cabin at Tahoe. He wanted to take me when the family went on vacation. I thought it sounded cool—I'm not really into him—but what girl would pass up a chance to vacay in Tahoe? Can you even envision the jealousy of the other girls? He touched me when I opened the refrigerator. Actually, it was so sweet. I could tell he was nervous. His hand just brushed my back, and I had to blush when he put his arm around my waist. "Cherry, you're so…sexy," he said, like trying the word on in his head before it spilled from his lips. Boys will say that stuff a lot, but Berkley—you know, he's so shy anyway—made it sound sincere. Still, I didn't want to lead him on. Younger men are so impressionable. Plus, my girlfriends are always talking about how I lead a boy on, even when I know it'll never go anywhere. I've really been working on that. Kind of hard though, when you're a compulsive flirt. "I'm what?" I said, not looking at him, pretending instead to search for something in the fridge. "Sexy. I said you're so sexy." It was sweet the way he almost stuttered. His hand felt sort of good the way it caressed my back. Because I hadn't stopped him, he seemed to gain courage. I stood up and he was close. I found my cherry lip gloss and looked into his big brown eyes as I put some on. He wore a silly half-grin. "You think I'm sexy?" I said, smacking my lips to spread the lip gloss evenly. "Uh-huh." "That's nice." I brushed past him and returned to the party. You see, I'm making strides. In the real world, you can't just go around leading men on. Okay, so I could have shown him a firmer hand, but how could I simply say, 'Berkley, you've got no chance'? It's maybe a little conceited, but boys aren't so bright. If I said that outright he'd go saying such sweet things to some other girl. I've known Dillon Esther for-EVER. He's a hottie. My girlfriend Katie has had him. She said he has a really big dick, and because Katie talks so much, Dillon has been fortunate enough to enjoy a surge in popularity at school. In high school, it's like all the silly stuff matters, maybe because the important stuff is boring. I mean, how many people know what Dillon's grade-point average is—2.4—but yeah, hung like a stud. Enough said, right? Anyhow, Dillon had been doing me this favor. To appease my mom, I joined the Tree Club at school. Granted, that's not exactly what my mom said. She said, "Just do something worthwhile so your father doesn't kill you!" We all live in a very earth-conscientious town, and so I guess it's only right I do my part. Last year after snowmelt, we experienced terrible flooding and erosion down along the riverbanks. When I saw what had happened to the natural banks at the historic Riverside Park, where enormous cottonwood trees were uprooted and washed away in a matter of hours, I knew I couldn't sit idle. Um, to be perfectly honest, I sort of came up with it on short notice. I'd not gone to the Tree Club meetings for nearly two weeks straight, and when finally I showed it was Final Project time. We'd been out drinking along the river banks the night before when Jason, I think it was, mentioned something about how the trees and the park were where some of his favorite memories as a kid had been born. ** "Man, it's just sad is all I'm saying. I was the only kid with the balls to jump out of that tree into the river. What's going to be my legacy?" Jason, drunk as sin, always said crazy stuff like that. We were all standing around a huge bonfire, listening to music and drinking. All the boys had brought their trucks, backed them to the fire and dropped the tailgates. The couples among us had made up the truck beds with mattresses and blankets. The drunker everybody got, the more courageous. I could hear Francine and her boyfriend, Scott—the tallest guy in school—moving around. His feet were poking out, and it was disturbing. I moved to the other side of the fire, closer to the stereo. That's the worst, when you have to go to school the next day and see a couple, practically draped on one another, and your imagination virtually burns some supposed image of them getting freaky onto your mind. Well, you can't hardly look at them, can you? From the woods at the park's edge, we all turned to take in the roaring belly-laugh of Randy Carson. He raced out of darkness into the firelight, dressed in full Santa garb and crashing into the side of Jason's pickup. "Hey, fucker," Jason said. "Watch it." Randy had a bag slung over his shoulder. He was silly-drunk. When he'd gotten his pants hiked up, he turned and crumbled to his knees beside Jason. Thrusting his big red bag open, he howled and shouted, "Ho-ho-ho, mother fucker." Candy rained down from his hand onto Jason's head. Before his holiday sugar shower victim could even fuss, Randy was up and racing to and fro, thrusting candy into everyone's hands. Everyone started cracking up, even the couples in the pickups had stopped what they were doing to watch. Approaching me, he giggled in a rough voice, "Ms. Cherry Langton, I have a special gift for you." I rolled my eyes as he dug around in his bag. "Aw, c'mon," he muttered, breaking character, "where the fuck…ah!" He drew out a long candy cane—my favorite holiday treat! It looked more like a striped tree branch, the thing was so big. He put it in my hand. "Thank you," I said with a wink. "Cherry-flavored," he growled. He took two steps before turning. "And um, if you can get your mouth over that, you and me can be friends." The boys burst out laughing, but us girls didn't take shit. After I threw the first snowball that caught Randy squarely in the chin, the park became a blizzard. The bonfire hissed and sizzled as the twenty-or-so of us chased each other around, flinging snowballs. I was a little underdressed for the occasion, so I ducked down beside Randy's truck when no one was looking. I opened the door and slipped into the backseat where I could wait the melee out. Judging by the screams and yells, the party was still going strong some ten minutes later, when I realized I'd misplaced my candy cane. As I turned around, I spotted it on the edge of the truck. That's when I caught sight of Randy's girlfriend, Kayli, through the back window. She was hunkered down beneath his big thick quilts. And what's more, Jason had taken refuge with her. The firelight cast them in a spooky glow, and I saw her push him back when he'd kissed her. But then, just like that, she was literally crawling on top of him. My eyes went wide—Randy was like the school's best wrestler, and a killer of anybody who even looked at his girlfriend. She and Jason were getting serious when he flipped her onto her back and the covers fell off long enough for me to see that she'd already shimmied out of her jeans. Her panties were down over her hips and Jason kissed her stomach, dropped his head and jabbed his tongue between her legs. Kayli's head fell back and she opened her mouth in a silent gasp. I saw her eyes focus, as she caught sight of something on the edge of the truck. Reaching out, she grabbed my candy cane and took it. I was just about to bang on the window when Jason looked up. Kayli handed him the plastic-covered sugar wand and my jaw came unhinged. I saw it all in his grin. I slapped a hand over my eyes just as he lined the end of my, my, my candy cane up with Kayli's vagina. I couldn't help but split a finger and peek through my hand…it was like watching a gory car accident. And just like that, her sheath swallowed it inch by inch. Jason reached up to grasp Kayli's breast, while at the same time he'd begun to fuck her in earnest with the red and white striped sugar cane. Jason got up on his knees for leverage, and Kayli reached down to unfasten his jeans. She reached in and pulled his cock from his whitey tighties, and began to jerk it insistently. Jason used one hand to plumb her hole with the candy cane, and the other to bat her hand away. He threw his head back and jerked himself hard. Just then I saw his teeth grit, could even hear the groan over the music and through the window, as a huge white blast of semen unloaded from his angry cock. I saw Kayli jerk as the first spurt caught her right beneath the nose, the next and third spilling down upon the dark hair over her pussy. "Yee-ha!" came the screech of Randy from somewhere in the distance. That was enough for Jason. He threw back the covers, and leapt over the side of the pickup. Before I looked down, I'd frozen that image in my mind. Jason had the most sinister grin on his face, his hair wild, his cheeks flushed; he looked at me and winked. His limp cock hung just over his underwear, and in a flash, he'd disappeared into the night. Kayli lay in temporary shock—a giant white stick protruding from her vagina, a white spattered thatch and a man milk-stache. Served her right! ** "Cherry?" said the teacher. "Are you daydreaming again? I need you to submit your plan for Final Project." I fumbled. "Uh…" I glanced over at Jason. His head was down on his desk. I smiled. "I'm going to restore Riverside Park, starting with the cottonwood trees that were eroded and taken away in the flood." It turned out to be a good idea. At least, she thought so. I embellished somewhat, telling her it was me who used to climb those trees, that the pangs of loss were mine, too. Whatever, I got my cut of the school's Tree Club funds, and when it came down to it, the credit was all that mattered. I mean, who was I to say what Mother Nature's plan had been when she uprooted some kids' fond memories and wiped them off the map? Seriously. Tree Club might sound stupid, but it's actually got all sorts of accreditations all over the state. So, in the incredibly rare event I did decide to attend college next year, like as a last-minute escape plan, it might look good on my resume. They told me it was silly to try and dig such big holes. Even my teacher suggested I think smaller. What kind of teacher encourages that? She said I should just dig little holes, plant little trees and wait for them to mature. Well, sure, I could do that, but the bigger the hole, the greater the capacity, the less waiting endured by all. It's the least I could do to restore the harmony of our fine little village. Yes, but Tree Club doesn't have the funds to replant fully matured cottonwood trees…She was really trying to blackball me, that Mrs. Canter. Until, of course, I mentioned how my father would cover the gap. My dad worked as a real estate agent—used to be the town's only licensed agent. Anybody who sold a home went through my father. The raw land stuff, he said, was for developers and land rapists. He let the out-of-town big shots handle that stuff. Most people assumed we were rich, but my dad doesn't really handle money that well. Most of what we got came from relatives who played out successful ventures on the stock market. Things were really shook up when Martin S. Calhoun—a Phoenix real estate lawyer—chose our little town in which to retire. Mr. Calhoun built an enormous house on a piece of property that used to be a pecan orchard, right up the street from us. According to the gossip page of the local paper, he and his wife planned to live out their days gardening, wood-working, investing in local charity, writing, painting, attending local sporting events, fishing the Verde River, hosting socials, picnicking, camping, sleeping in, going to bed late or whenever the urge took them, taking long walks by the river, and so forth. As luck would have it, Martin S. Calhoun—something of a Phoenix area icon—got a little nervous when the real estate market stagnated, and then the bubble burst. Supposedly, he saw how underrepresented the raw land market was in our area. He'd decided to take that up as a long-term investment plan. And as for the residential market, he'd scoop that up as a hobby. My father had not received a new listing in almost ten months. Bummer. ** Katie's mom has started to look at me weird. So what if I was borrowing Katie's clothes lately. It wasn't like we hadn't done that since we were toddlers. Besides, her blood red skirt and white halter top looked hot on me. They fit—if not a little snugly—absolutely ideal. We didn't even have time for breakfast. Katie grabbed a bagel and we shared it. I'm embarrassed to say, I wolfed my half down. Luckily, she wasn't very hungry, so I ate her half too. The two of us had such plans for the day. Her parents had made the impulsive decision to go to a retreat for winter vacation. We'd just found out and had so little time to plan the biggest end-of-the-year party ever. School got out at eleven for seniors, then Katie was headed for Prescott to get her hair done. Me, I would just throw my hair up and fill it with bobby-pins like usual. Boys love punk. I had my own load for the day. Tree Club projects were due in a week. There was even talk of holding the homecoming dance on the stage at Riverside Park, not far from where I'd proposed my reforestation plan. Suddenly, putting a few trees in the ground became a major to-do for one Cherry Langton. Which brings me all the way back to Dillon Ester's favor. He met me by the riverbank that sunny afternoon. "So," I said, "That's all you have to do." He didn't say anything for a while. Just leaned on the shovel we'd borrowed from Mr. Calhoun's place, a hop, skip and a jump up the river path. Such a friendly fellow, that Mr. Calhoun. Dillon was staring into the river, his eyes lost to the icy current that always seemed to move with such ambition. Speaking of which, "Dillon," I laughed. "They're not going to dig themselves." "Jesus, Cherry," he said, once he'd cleared the snow away and reached the frozen dirt. "You sure they have to be so big?" "Uh-huh," I said, for the umpteenth time. "But don't worry, the soil is really soft once you break through. It shouldn't take long. And you've got me to keep you company. For a while, at least." "I guess that's true," he said, and resignedly stepped forward to take his start. I'll say one thing, if you've never seen a big strong football-playing boy with a shovel and an aim to please, it's an image I suggest you manufacture. All you need is the right boy, the right tools—not the shovel, of course, I'm talking about a low-cut halter top, a jacket zipped down ever so much to give the girls some sun, yes—throw your gaze into the meandering river while the sun plays off your chest. Look out, China, the boy is going to dig. In no time, Dillon was up to his waist in thick red river dirt. Or rather, it had seemed like no time. In actuality, as I check the time on my phone, I saw that entirely too much time had lapsed. I had to get back to town to meet my uncle, William. He was buying our beer! "Oh!" I said. "What's wrong?" "Nothing. I've got to get to the Pack Saddle by two. Beer!" "Oh," said Dillon. Now, I'm not shallow. I could plainly sense Dillon's melancholy. He'd been burning a little candle for me ever since he used to mow our lawn. He'd seen something. Something neither of us had ever breathed a word about, but which made him cumbersome and awkward. "Dill," I said, stepping to the edge of the hole. I let my long jacket open slightly. If he couldn't see up my skirt, he needed an optometrist. I know what you're thinking. So completely immature and gross. Leading a boy on, right? Just like I'd promised myself not to do. Okay, I'll admit it. But allow me a quick justification. I'd completely put off the Tree Club hole-digging until there was absolutely no way for me to accomplish it alone. You could say the only resource I had left was my ability to inspire compliance through yearning, or something to that effect. "I can't believe how fast you are." He was blushing. I love a boy with pale cheeks. They betray that special little soul-glow like nothing else. I remember the first time Dillon got laid. We had all seen him at the football game with a girl, a girl who attended another school, no less—very exotic. Everybody badgered him for information, but he wouldn't budge. I walked right up to him and asked outright, "How was she?" Oh, the color of red. He nearly made my lips jealous! Too easy. I swished my hips. "Dillon," I said as he ogled me from the hole. "You dog. Your girlfriend would be so upset." "Cherry, what? I'm not seeing her anymore." A fact to which I was already privy, but would act utterly surprised to hear. "What? But I could have sworn…the girl from…" "That was over after two weeks," he said quickly. "Oh my God," I said, glowing. "I can't believe it." "Believe what?" "Oh, nothing. Listen, honey, you're going to be at the party tonight, right?" "Uh, yeah. Of course." I grinned. That's all he needed. Nothing more should be said, so I spun on my heels and walked away. A hole. Six feet deep, four feet wide. Sounds rather excessive, doesn't it? I know. I had six of them to get dug. That's how many trees were lost—an unhappy swath of divine erosion, and a half dozen vanished, majestic cottonwood trees. Granted, no tractor in the world has the power to replace a fully mature cottonwood tree. They're massive things. So beautiful with their low-hanging branches, thick trunks and broad leaves. There is scarcely a better shade tree in all the country. My opinion, of course. The Ice Cherry Yes, those were the words I delivered for the oral portion of my Tree Club project. Short and sweet, but it did the trick. Half my grade was in the bag. Now, all that remained was to put the bastard to bed. Uncle William came through. Six kegs of beer. No, it wasn't the best brew, but it would do. With six kegs we could assure ourselves a spot in valley lore for high school generations to come. We'd barely put Katie's family heirlooms away and hung the decorations when people started showing up. It was clear early, word had gotten around. Kids all the way from Sedona were making appearances, and even Prescott. I don't know what's in the Prescott water, but the boys grow up very big. At about nine, this kid, Kyle, was hitting on me pretty aggressively. He kept refilling my beer as if I wouldn't realize what that strategy was meant to achieve. The trouble with Prescott boys is this: they can talk about stupid stuff, hold a pair of non-sequitur conversations—each meaningless—as if they were delegates negotiating both sides of a nuclear non-proliferation treaty, when in reality, they may be talking about nothing more stimulating than, oh, say, what kind of beer is in the keg…It's all banter, I suppose. Tomorrow, you could ask a dick what he discussed the night before. A Dick remembers one thing—pussy. And in the winter, don't ask me why, it's a hundred times worse. Something about Christmas Pussy, I guess. I mean, seriously, why do you think there are so many babies born in July and August? As girls, we have absolutely zero delusions about what they're after with the boring talk. It's like this—detain, corner and distract her for as long as possible, so other boys have no chance to view the merchandise. Must have all the right people see that he's got us engaged. I think it's some sort of male-turf thing, and you know they'd piss a circle around us if marking territory was socially acceptable. Right. So, next he tries to lull her into a trance with his oh-so-romantic pick-up lines. Of course, that includes praying he's got her drunk enough to compromise her better judgment. In the end, though, the only way something is going to happen?—she's decided a long time ago: yeah, okay, I'm fucking tonight. This guy, Kyle, was doing all that and his best. He finally followed me to the bathroom and asked if he could come in with me. I was bored by then, so I figured it was time to confuse the poor fool. "Ew. You want to watch me wipe my ass? That's sick." He was so caught off-guard. "No, uh, wait. I meant, after," he stammered. "Just—let's, I don't know, do something crazy." "Gross," I said. "I'm not letting you watch me flush." His jaw dropped, but I'd already shut the door in his face. I laughed as I sat down on the toilet. Boys. What a joke. But after only a minute, I was ready to cry. Oh, I was a fine mess. I used to like a boy. A lot. Jeremy. God, he was beautiful. Easily the most handsome, tender guy in school. He knew exactly how to treat a woman. He had to be an alien. We used to stop off at the Burger Shack. He's buy me fries and a shake, and we'd drive down to the river and hang out in his dad's old drop-top convertible, rusted blue and unforgettable. I never felt any pressure when I was with Jeremy. He'd just recline in the driver's seat and watch the leaves blow in the breeze. The best thing was that I could watch him, and he never minded. Never looked over and frowned or made me stop. I knew exactly what he was, just because I could look openly at his beautiful face and carefree expression. The sex—I used to tell people it was the greatest experience of my life. Kind of lame. Especially considering it's the only time I've had it. But, you know how they say the first time sucks? Well, that's not the case with me. With Jeremy. It was great. Really. I'd sat there on the toilet, listening to the muffled party sounds droning through the door from outside. I felt strangely detached. School was ending, but that wasn't it. I was like a spectator to everything, even my fucked up and forged emotions, something I'd seen in a movie once. I fished my cell phone out of my back pocket and called my mom. "Mom?" "I'm fine, mom." "No. Everything is fine." "He is? No, I'll see if I can get Mr. Smith to give us a Christmas tree for free." I closed my eyes to stave off emotion. "Yes, mom. I know it's tradition." He was spending a lot of nights at the office again. At least, that's what my mother is buying. He's depressed, she says. There's no money, and he's got so much weighing on his mind, she tells me. That's the crap she buys wholesale. And she tells me like it's going to hopefully convince one of us. "I will mom." And because of the sound in her voice, I started to cry. I couldn't hang up, even though that's all I really wanted. "I don't know when I'll be home." "Nothing. It's great—I miss you." "I do, Mom. I promise." "No, he doesn't. Mother, he doesn't." "I have to go. I'm sorry. I have to go." I took control of myself in the mirror. But who was that girl staring back? Katie's nail file was on the edge of the sink. I saw my mind play a sequence of events in super-fast-motion. In them, a girl a lot like me picked up the file and slid it into a vein in her neck. I blinked a couple times. Katie took such care of her nails. Why did I constantly bit mine? Oh, well. When I opened the door, Kyle was propped up against the wall. His eyes were dull and droopy. An instant before, he probably would not have been able to tell a passerby why he was standing there, but when he saw me, he remembered why he was staking out the bathroom. He managed to straighten himself up and do a little thing that must have been an attempt at appearing hunky. It wasn't working. "Baby," he started. I was suddenly so tired. I made to push past him, but he grabbed my shoulders, laughed and leaned on me. Then he wrapped one of those huge arms around me and pulled me into the bathroom. "Kyle," I laughed, tapping his arm and trying on a joke. "I already flushed, buddy. You missed the show." He closed the door and leaned heavily against it. His eyes were steely and cold, even if his words weren't meant to be. "You're so cute and funny, Cherry." "Okay," I said, experiencing at that precise moment an inconvenient urge to yawn. "How come," he began, "we don't have girls like you in my town?" My back tightened. I didn't have anything clever to say. "I don't know." "Yeah," he continued. "They're all bitches up there. See," he said, stepping forward and staggering close, towering over me. "I think you're probably the hottest girl in the county. I mean," he stopped to burp, "that's a pretty good compliment, don't you think?" I stared at his chest. It was so fucking wide, and my vision was closing in. He was a bear, like on a nature channel. Something capable of every kind of pain it cared to pursue. I couldn't tell if I was shaking, but my vision was blurring. "Here we are," he said. "Kyle," I said. I sounded like a mouse. "You're nice but—" "And I've never seen a girl with such red lips. Lollipop lips." His breathing was heavy, bear heavy. "I like that top." "Let's go back to the party." "Okay," he said with a shrug of his shoulders. I swallowed and exhaled. "But let's get fucking crazy first." His tone was no longer suggestive. I looked up at him, not really seeing him. Just eyes. Big black bear eyes. He would be so strong. I could shout or scream, but that would ruin everything. There would be uncontrollable crying, and the boys would be mad. The girls would look at me like I'd asked for it. People might stop talking to me and I'd have to…leave again. Fuck that. I clenched my fists. Fuck that, and fuck everybody and their stupid-ass opinion. Nobody gives a shit what happens to anybody. I could do what he wanted. I could just kiss him. Make out some, just nothing more. But as I looked at him, I knew better. His body reeked of want, his breath was charged. I knew his little brain had no shut-off switch once those bunched up muscles got to going. I dug my nails into my palm until it hurt. I'm goddamn Cherry Langton, by God. "I want to do something special for you," I said quickly. Kyle grinned. I focus on that foolish grinning mouth of us. Boy, not bear. "Really?" he said. "Yeah." I stepped around him, taking his hand and leading him to the center of the bathroom. Then I moved behind him and put my arms around his broad body. He was facing the mirror, and we both watched the image of my hands moving down to his fly. It didn't feel awkward, but strangely natural when I took his cock from his underwear. He was hard, but getting harder still, and I saw the glaze coat his eyes as I touched and tugged on him. I could hear the change in his breath. "In the cabinet," I said. He opened it. He retrieved a bottle of lotion and I let him squirt a dollop into my hand. When I touched him again, he groaned. "Cherry," he whispered. "You're the hottest bitch ever." "You promise?" I said, putting my cheek to his back. "Oh, yeah." I squished my hands through the lotion, rubbing it into his dick, feeling the head become broader. The first time had been in the dark. I'd never seen it before I felt him. I just don't know how something like that could fit inside. I played with Kyle's balls. I'd read in Cosmo that they liked that. I peeked out from behind him. He was staring at us in the mirror, watching me do him, and I leveled my gaze on his expressive face. I owned this mother fucker. "Look at us," I whispered with all the honey-laden succulence I could possess. "Yeah," he mumbled. "Look at your big cock in my little hand." "Oh," he groaned. "I'm big, right?" "You knew," I said. "Yeah." "You knew, didn't you?" "Oh, yeah." He was trying to focus. Trying, but not too hard. I was still jerking him, faster than before. "I didn't want to do anything with you," I said. He lifted his gaze. He was trying to read me. "I didn't," I repeated. "But you wanted it bad." He seemed unsure, but unable to wake from his dream. "It's so good. I grinned. "You weren't going to let me out unless I gave you a little something." "Baby," he groaned. "I wanted this." "You really did." "Oh, yeah." "Thought, all she needed was a little coaxing, a little encouragement." I jerked him harder, squeezed and squished up and down the shaft and over the spongy head, causing him to lurch. He swallowed hard. "You wanted it, too. Just…just playing hard to get." I pushed my left hand beneath his scrotum, fingered his perineum. That was supposed to perform some sort of miracle. His eyes went immediately glassy. "How do you know what a girl wants?" "I…" he hissed. "I just—I could tell." "Even when she says something different. You just knew?" "Yeah, Cherry. Oh." A crystal-clear bead of pre-come was stretching from his cock to where it stuck to the bathroom sink. "Getting close?" I asked him. "So…so." "Really?" "Oh, yeah." "Close your eyes." He was unsure. "Huh?" "I want you to picture…you know, like this isn't my hand. I'll talk to you." He blinked once, then obeyed. My left hand snaked out from between his legs, but my right jerked faster. "So tight," he breathed. "Yes," I cooed. "Because you're so big. Too big for me." I leaned against him. My free hand drew open the nearby drawer. It was just right. "Is it nice inside?" I asked him. "So good. I want…I want to come inside you, Cherry." "I don't know," I whispered. "It could be dangerous for us." "Just," he moaned and undulated in my hand. "Just, let me get it, baby." I looked in the mirror at his pathetic reflection and shook my head. Mom had no idea what that man was capable of, why I couldn't go home. I stared at the nail file resting there in the drawer. It was sharp, gleaming in the vanity light. "Cherry," he whined. "I'm so close." I smiled. "Me, too, baby," I cooed with pure syrup. "Cherry?" "Oh, sweetie. Yes?" "I'm sorry. I really like you. I want this so bad." I breathed deeply, and reached into the drawer. My hand was slippery and I slid my fingers along the length of it as I clutched it tightly. "This is gonna feel so good," I whispered. "Yes!" he groaned. I could feel it. It was incredible. His cock was swelling, the veins pulsing in my hand. With my left, I teased the crack of his ass with my pinkie finger. He sucked in and gulped. I drew back and took aim, and just as he climaxed I shoved one of Katie's tampons right into his asshole. He batted my hand away from his dick and took hold of it, jerking furiously, squirting long, fascinating white ropes into the sink. They sprayed over the counter as he groaned, head thrown back and teeth gritted. I took a step back, raised my cell phone and snapped a picture. Captured in still beauty like a fucking freak of nature, there was Kyle Cedar of Prescott Valley High, jerking his wad all over my friend's mirror, a tampon sticking out of his ass. When he turned around, I was ready. "Don't move, don't fucking even look at me," I said, firmly. "I press send and everyone in my contact list gets a picture of this. You ever fucking come near me again, even mention that you've ever met me, and I'll see to it that two counties full of people know what kind of shit you're into, Cupcake." With that, I left him in the bathroom to sort the rest of his life out. When I found my friend, Tawnee Sable, she was practically pouring herself all over Dillon. Tawnee's gorgeous, one of the more beautiful girls in school, with a wild black mane that usually spills over her shoulders like some kind of exotic waterfall. Tonight, she'd gone with curls, having heard that, yes, Dillon was all about them. Only, it wasn't exactly her curls he was nuts for. "Cherry," he called when I came out of the kitchen with a fresh beer I had no intention of actually drinking. He was holding two cups, and Tawnee was leaning on him, playing the part of tipsy-and-willing. "Oh," he said as I drew near. "I guess you already got one." "Isn't he sweet?" said Tawnee. "He went and got me one, too." "What a feat," I said, glancing over my shoulder at the numerous kegs scattered like landmines about the house, amid the holiday revelers. Then, glancing through the dining room window, I said, "What are those geniuses doing?" "Oh," said Tawnee. "Some of the boys got drunk enough that they decided they would build the world's largest snowman." "Yeah," I groaned. "There's no way Katie's parents will know she had a party while they were away." Dillon and Tawnee laughed. "What is it about us small-towners? We always have to make the biggest this and the biggest that. Are we really so ashamed of being from a town where nobody from the outside comes to visit?" They both looked at me strangely. "So," said Dillon. "One down, five to go." "You finished?" "Yeah, but it's going to be hell digging five more, Cherry. Seriously." "Five more, what?" slurred Tawnee. "Actually, Dill," I replied. "I'm going to let you off the hook. I've decided one is enough." "But your project—" "I'm not worried. I don't need to ace the project, per se." "So," said Dillon. "What college are you planning to attend?" "I'm going to ASU," Tawnee gushed. "What about you, Dill?" "U of A," he said conversationally, his eyes never leaving mine. "Oh! We'll, like, totally be neighbors. We'll have to party all the time." "Yeah," he said. "Cherry?" "SYU," I replied, looking at the gushing torrent of sex that was Tawnee. There was a girl who'd woke this morning having made up her mind. Her legs were smooth, her pussy was bald, and she was getting fucked tonight. For his part, her victim didn't seem to have a clue. "Syracuse?" asked Dillon. Tawnee burst out laughing. "Are you kidding, Dillon? It's a big joke to her. SYU? Screw You University." Dillon laughed. "Oh, ha-ha." Nope," she droned. "Cherry's staying put. Right here in the good old Verde Valley. Aren't you, Cher?" "You know it," I said without looking at her. "No aspirations for me." The party died down a little after two o'clock. I had planned on crashing with Tawnee that night, but she'd passed out on Katie's sofa. So much the better. Instead, I helped clean house. That's a chore best employed while you're drunk and don't care. You laugh and feel good. It feels less like actual work. "She's out," said Katie, lifting Tanwee's arm and letting it fall. "Poor thing. She was trying as hard as she could to get on Dillon. It's so sad how even the beautiful people get desperate around Christmastime." "Well, she got him down to his socks at least." I pointed to the door where I'd placed a pair of sneakers. "How do you suppose he made off without them?" Katie laughed. "Didn't want to leave a trail so Tawnee could find him." I started to laugh, but then I shut my mouth and gazed at his shoes. Yeah. A trail. Like breadcrumbs. "He was pretty drunk," Katie said with a smirk. "Cute boy, but what a dork. Um," she paused, picking up an ashtray full of beer. "actually, all boys, don't you think?" "Yes!"I shouted. I had an overwhelming urge to show her the picture of the Prescott Valley douche who'd accosted me in the bathroom, but as much as I loved her, Katie was a bit of a mouth. "What about you?" she said. "You've been spending a lot of time with Dillon, lately." "It's nothing," I shrugged. "He's been digging me a hole." "Ah, that's what we're calling it nowadays." The two of us cracked up. I really liked her. We didn't get to hang out as much this past year. She was trying desperately to get into Stanford to study Forensic Psychology, and it seemed like every other day was filled with applications, visits and interviews. We'd tried to make up for it during the last few weeks. You can imagine how surprised I was when she offered to host the biggest winter party in the history of our class. "How you getting home?" she asked when we'd gotten the place tidied. "My ride is passed out on your sofa." "Oh, oops. Well, I'd say you could crash on the couch again, but…" We both eyed Tawnee's splayed figure. Her leg was draped over the back of the sofa, crotch exposed for the world to avoid. "Oh, Tawnee," I muttered. "Well, whatever," said Katie. "My bed's huge. You don't kick do you?" "Not that I know of," I said. Her bed was big. Enormous. And my God, never in my life had I ever felt something so soft. While she was finishing up in the bathroom, I passed out almost immediately. He was in my dream again. He'd tried to…try. That would be nice if those moments were limited to attempts. He'd been feeling me up since I got breasts. Before Mom started staying at home, it was almost a daily occurrence. I'd come home and he'd be there, eating a sandwich, milk jug perched on the counter beside him. He'd come into my room and start talking about ridiculous stuff. Almost nothing separated him from the boys at a party, already half-soused on beer. Only he was stone sober. Sit there at my desk and stare. Fathers are supposed to respect their daughter's privacy. They're supposed to ask how her day was, what she did, what she learned. Then they leave her alone. They don't ogle, sit stone-still with a stupid expression and think it's funny when she's grossed out by it. I'd come home later and left the house earlier. He'd started pushing Mom around, threatening her body. Should a daughter have to console her mother when she's crying, fresh bruises on her chin? When you live in a town so small, how stupid can you be to fuck around and not expect them to find out? But then again, she's never left. So, who's the stupid one? The Ice Cherry I rolled over. Katie's body was close, warm. I opened my eyes. She wore only a black bra and underwear. I was always jealous of her Italian descent. She tanned so dark, while I was pale except for where my shoulders caught the faintest color. Pale as a peach, my Jeremy had said. He made me sexy, even if I didn't feel it. I don't know why I did it. I nestled close to Katie. Her hair smelled so good. She had her hands piled beneath her cheeks. She was doing it. She'd warned me just before we went upstairs. "Sometimes, I grind my teeth." I said I didn't care. I thought I knew what it sounded like to grind one's teeth, but this was ridiculous. The way she went about it, I didn't think Katie would have much left to grind by the time she was thirty. I put my finger to her lips, poked her to see if she'd stop. But she didn't. "Katie," I whispered softly. She was dead to the world. It was such a sound, and I couldn't help but giggle. I leaned close and watched her jaw work. Then I kissed her. And before I could stop myself, I was kissing her again. I felt warm all over. Felt like Katie was so delicate. Like she couldn't hurt me. She moved to her back the next time I kissed her. I moved with her, pressing my lips to hers and breathing her breath. She put her arms around me, and I felt so good. I took off the top I'd borrowed from her, and lay on top of her. Her body was hot. It was such a wonderful sensation on my skin. "Katie," I whispered. I sat up and straddled her body. My nipples were hard, and I rubbed the back of my hand over her chest. Hers were too. She was so beautiful, her body so naturally toned. I placed my hands on her breasts. They were firm and full. "Katie," I whispered once more. I leaned over her and kissed between her breasts, pulled my lips through her cleavage up to her collarbone. I sucked at her neck and chin, and the next time we kissed, her tongue came forward to meet mine. It didn't force me, didn't try to shove its way inside my mouth or down my throat. It was soft as silk, gentle and patient. She opened her mouth into our kiss, and I sucked her tongue and lips. When I'd gotten out of my panties, I pulled her underwear down. I knew Katie was shaved. She'd told me how she liked it. How liberating it felt. Me, I kept a little sliver of fur, mostly because it was blonde and didn't look bad anyway. I read boys either love bald or blonde. I lay beside Katie and kissed her cheek. Then I carefully pulled her on top of me. Her kiss was so gentle, so perfect, and her body against mine—the weight was bliss. Our legs scissored together, and I felt the soft flesh of her vagina pressed to mine. I shivered as electric heat sizzled along my inner thighs. We ground into each other. I felt so free, my hands roaming over her supple back, down over her tight ass. I snaked a finger along the crack of her butt. She was smooth as a baby, and I pressed against the back of her pussy. My God, the way she groaned into my mouth, I was flooded with moisture. It was outrageous, I was about to come with my best friend on top of me. I'd never dreamt of anything so magical. The way her body responded, I couldn't stop. I teased her opening, sliding my fingers over her slit the way I sometimes did to myself. She humped me, deep and hard, and finally, I pushed my finger inside her. It was like opening up a dam. I felt a rush of sticky liquid, and the deeper I delved, the more fire seemed released into her kiss. It wasn't long before she was whimpering, and I was fucking my friend with a pair of fingers, taking her from behind while clinging to her desperately. "Katie," I moaned, and began to shake. I pushed my free hand between us and clutched my pussy, shoving a sodden finger mixed with our juices inside myself. I immediately climaxed. "Oh! Oh! Katie," I cried. Her eyes flitted, and she opened them. She was staring into my face, wide-eyed. I craned my neck to kiss her, but she drew back. I felt her pussy clench on my fingers and then she gasped. Katie shoved me into the mattress, pushing herself off me with such force that she fell from the bed and smashed into the wall. "What the fuck?" she shouted. "Are you okay?" "What the fuck?" she spat. "You fucking bitch. You sick fucking bitch! Get out of my house!" I didn't know what to do. There was such uncontrollable rage in her voice. Frantic, I grabbed my clothes and ran. When I got downstairs, I raced through the living room, past Randy—again dressed as Santa Claus—and wedged between the legs of a still-very-passed-out Tawnee. He was panting as he fucked her. I shook my head, stepped into Dillon's shoes, tore the front door open and ran. I shivered and cried, screamed and bawled like a child who'd lost her mother. What had I done wrong? Katie had felt so perfect. So good, so delicate and giving. It wasn't about the angry slap of a cock like the stupid boys who so completely dominated the landscape. What we'd done was beautiful, wasn't it? No sticky spill of seed and that awful pressing dead weight. They—men—they always take advantage. I wasn't taking advantage of Katie, was I? No, no. I could never do that. Katie didn't want me. That was it, that was the bottom line. Nobody wanted me. And if they did, it was only for one reason. He'd taken it all. He'd forced me to live a lie. Yeah, I'd only done it once. And yeah, Jeremy had taken me to the riverbank where we ate French fries. He kissed me and we fooled around. But it never went farther than that, though I desperately wanted it to. Wanted him to be my first. Someone else had taken that from me. Long ago on a blistering hot summer day while the neighbor boy was mowing the lawn, right outside the window. The cherry sapling was all Mr. Smith had so close to Christmas. At first, I was disappointed. Mother was all about tradition. But, come to think of it, she was perfect. She was eager and ready to live. Ready to reach for the sky and grow without stopping. I imagined returning to the park someday, coming back to that very spot and seeing her. Planted in the winter, and forced to cope with the harshness of cold and loneliness, she would be the strongest of all. Just like me. Her branches would snake into the heavens, her leaves swallowing the sun. ** "Where have you been hiding out?" my father asked. "Oh, nowhere." I was still wearing Katie's clothes. It was two days later. I felt ugly and dirty, but resolved. "Your mom and I have been worried sick." He was drunk, spitting and malleable. "Daddy," I purred. "Remember when you used to take me fishing down by the riverbank?" "What about it?" "Take me." "Now?" "Why not?" "It's after sundown, and freezing cold." "And quiet," I said, lowering my head and peering at him from the tops of my eyes. "And it doesn't have to be cold. Take me." Despite his stupor, he found the fishing poles in the shed. They were covered in cobwebs, mine being the small plastic Fischer Price he'd gotten for my fourth birthday. Both of us knew there would be no fishing done tonight. We walked along the riverbank, along the edge of Mr. Calhoun's estate just out of the reach of his security lights. There was my sapling. She knew I hadn't forgot her. My father and me walked hand-in-hand to the edge of the river. A couple of times I had to help him. The gopher holes were everywhere, and drunks have a thing about stumbling and falling. He did manage to walk right past Dillon's hole. I spread a tarp on the snowy ground, and he stood by, weaving and breathing with a raspy gurgle while I spread out an old blanket. The moon was just peeking out from beyond the trees when he dropped our fishing poles. I could see my breath in the pale glow. "Beautiful night," I said, steeling myself against the cold. He was moistening his lips with his salamander-like tongue. "Glad you finally came around." I breathed deeply. "Daddy, I want to do something special for you." "Really?" "Sit here on the blanket." He complied, gentle as a baby bear. I moved behind him and put my hands on his shoulders. My mouth was dry, my fingertips numb. I leaned forward and pressed my breasts against him. Then I drew back. "Wait," I said. "Don't peek. I want to get more comfortable." "Should I—? "Not yet." His broad shoulders humped up as he chuckled drunkenly. I took off Katie's shirt and wrapped it around the handle of Mr. Calhoun's shovel. "Remember when you taught me how to play softball?" "I sure do," he grunted. I took a step and nearly tripped in Dillon's ungainly shoes. I waited until curiosity got the better of him. "Hon, do you want Daddy to—?" "Any how to swing a bat…" ** If you've had to disturb the earth, plant a tree. It's the only smart way to do what I've done. I gazed down at my feet, feeling tiny in those sneakers. I took them off and stood in the snow, wearing only my socks. Those unique footprints were no doubt everywhere by now. Poor, stupid Dillon. He'd been there when my father did that awful thing to me all those years ago. Always looked at me with such pity. Was I some damsel in distress he thought needed rescuing? Well, where the fuck was he that day? The lawn mower never stopped. But no, I was never some goddamned victim. Not Cherry. How can you shiver when you've got ice in your veins? I tied his shoe strings together, and smiled. The perfect tree ornament, I thought, as I hung Dillon's shoes from my little cherry sapling's strongest branch. When the ground thaws, the worms will do their work, the earth mites, bacteria and larvae. She will grow tall. Her roots will reach the nutrients and find the river, and she will drink any time she pleases. The others will teach her. And she will listen carefully, never revealing too much until she's good and ready. For she will learn amazing wonders, growing there beneath the majestic arms of the cottonwoods. The days will warm, but her ice cherries will be the coolest, tastiest, most uniquely delicious in the county. People will come for miles around to take from her bounty, to plant her in their own orchards. And my father's greedy gift? He will finally reap the fruit of his greatest living desire. His seed shall be spread far and wide.