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Wish Upon A Star

By: Lynne84



Georgia had always been known to be stifling in the summer, but even I was more than a little surprised at the string of oppressively hot days that had been plaguing us for weeks. Even throughout the nights the moisture in the air hung like a wet blanket over our noses and mouths, making it hard to breathe. The temperatures remained at a very warm 75 degrees while we slept, or tried to for that matter, allowing those lacking central air the pleasure of awaking sticky and sweaty. It was the kind of heat that induced fatigue but kept you from sleeping. That evening the air was thick and heavy, laden with scorching heat and oppressive humidity even though the sun had long ago been put to rest and the high-hanging moon shone brightly in the clear night sky. I lay face-up on the cool grass and breathed deeply as my eyes closed. I savored the pureness and the innocence of the beauty that surrounded me. 

The earth smelled sweet, like summer after she rains, and the tiny tree frogs peeped unabashedly in the otherwise quiet night. The tiny waves of the kettle pond lapped timidly at its shores as a wonderfully refreshing zephyr caressed its surface and traveled past my flushed cheeks. It was my last night in Georgia before I left for my first year of college in Boston. As I opened my eyes, I caught a glimpse of an orange streak leaving its mark on the dark velvet sky. As if put there for only my eyes, I smiled to myself and whispered aloud, "Star light, star bright, the first shooting star I see tonight, I wish I may, I wish I might, have the wish I wish tonight." I closed my eyes once again, breathed deeply and without hesitation began my request to the heavens. 

#

The weather had come as a shock to me when I had stepped into the humid air at the Hartsfield-Jackson airport in Atlanta. It was the end of April but it was already in the mid-80's, much different than the cool temperatures I was used to in Boston. After I unpacked my things and rearranged my room, I ventured out jean-clad to the barn to get reacquainted with the horses I hadn't seen since the September before. A slight breeze made the heat a little more bearable on the quarter mile walk, but as I got closer my heart began to beat faster, and not from the brief amount of exercise. As I peered down the center isle of stalls I saw someone I didn't recognize. He opened the door to one of the stalls and stepped in, shutting it behind him. 

No one else was around, so it struck me as odd that someone I didn't know was in there as our family had a strict rule that one may only be in the barn unattended if they were an employee or, obviously, a member of the family. Having never seen him before I quickened my pace and jogged into the barn. I slid Patches' already unlocked door open and stared at the stranger. He turned around and cocked his head and raised one eyebrow. The man looked like he might have been 5 or so years older than my 19, and he wore and old-West style cowboy hat that dipped down over messy sandy brown hair. It offset his sun-darkened complexion nicely and occasionally strayed into his deep chocolate eyes. His short sleeved tee-shirt was frayed at the shoulders and showed off his toned arms and slight farmer's tan. If Adonis had been a southern country boy, that is exactly what he would have looked like. 

"Can I help you, miss?" he asked with a look that gave me the distinct impression that I was intruding.

"I believe I should be asking you the same question," I scoffed with a furrowed brow.

"Miss, I'm sorry. This here's private property. Do you have an appointment with one of the Whitmans?"

"I am a Whitman!" I told him.

"With all due respect, miss, I live with the Whitmans and I can assure you that I've never seen you around."

"You live where?" I asked incredulously.

"Right over yonder," he drawled with a finger pointed at my house. "Now, I'm sorry to have to do this, but I'm going to have to escort you off the property if you haven't got business here."

"I own that horse you're standing next to," I replied, "and I've got more business being here than you do. I've been here for nineteen years now. I'm Piper Whitman and the reason you've never seen me around is because I've been at college for the last eight months. If you don't believe me, I'm the one who lives in the navy blue room upstairs, third door on the left with the white trim, not that I have to prove anything to you. Now, if you wouldn't mind, I'd like to know who you are."

"I'm Brayden Roddick," he said with a pearly smile. "I'm the farm hand the Whitmans hired to take care of the stable. I live on the second floor as well, but the fourth door on the left. Looks like we're neighbors. Now Piper, if you don't mind ending the interrogation, I've got some work I need to do. I think you can show yourself out."

I was stunned at his brazen rudeness. I turned around and grabbed Patches' halter off of the hook outside the stall and pushed past Brayden. I slipped it over her muzzle and led her out into the aisle without a word. I groomed her and prepared her for a ride in the ring as Brayden tried to lecture me.

"That one's real sensitive like, so maybe you shouldn't take her out. She don't like to be yanked all over. Rider's gotta know what they're doin'."

"Thank you, Captain Obvious," I sneered with squinted eyes. "I hadn't figured that out in the six years I've owned and ridden her. Why don't you go lecture someone who needs it, hm?" With that I led Patches out of the barn and into the riding ring. 

"I can see this summer's gon' be heaps of fun!" he called after me.

"Yeah, if you measure those heaps in cow dung!" I shot back as I mounted and began my ride. He sure has some nerve, I thought angrily as I rode. 'I think you can show yourself out.' Hmph. We'll see who's leaving soon enough. He's going to wish he hadn't crossed me. I can't believe I actually thought he was attractive. He's --

"Whoo-wee, that's terrible form," he commented hanging on the fence. "I know you're a country girl and all, but I'd expect an accomplished rider such as yourself with all those pretty ribbons you've won to be able to ride English-style a tad better 'an that." I pulled Patches up alongside the fence where Brayden was standing. 

"Who said anything about me being an accomplished rider?" I asked dubiously.

"I've seen all those pictures your parents have plastered up on the walls. Dressage, hunter, you name it. I've also seen all the ribbons hanging with the trophies in your room. Far as I'm concerned, that's pretty 'accomplished'."

"I thought you didn't know who I was!"

"Aw, c'mon now, Piper," he said with a broad smile. "I was just joshin' ya a bit. Didn't think you'd take it to heart like you did. Did you really think I'd be living in your house and not know who you were? Your parents told me you were coming today when they went to pick you up from the airport. 'Course I knew who you were. Could tell the minute you walked in. You're the spittin' image of your daddy."

"I didn't appreciate your humor," I said, indignant. "You were awful rude and if that's your idea of making a good first impression, you need to think again." I nudged Patches and began to walk away. Brayden followed on the other side of the fence.

"Don't be so sore about this, Piper! I'm sorry, I was just pullin' your leg earlier. We got off on the wrong foot, so let's change the shoes." I ignored his comments and continued to walk Patches. "All right, have it your way. Don't blame me when we have to awkwardly handle situations like dinner tonight." I spurred Patches into a canter and traveled a few more times around the ring before giving her a cool down walk and bringing her back to the barn for a little T.L.C. It was nearly six when I'd finished brushing and watering her, so I returned to the house to shower and get ready for dinner. I trudged sweaty and dusty up to my room where I was promptly greeted by Brayden's loud singing coming from our connecting bathroom. 

"Wanna talk about me, wanna talk about I, wanna talk about number one oh my me my!" he sang off-key.

"Hey, Brayden!" I called into the steamy room.

"Yeah?"

"Who sings that song?"

"Toby Keith!" he said proudly.

"Good. Let's keep it that way, shall we?" He chuckled softly before responding.

"Aw, c'mon Piper. Don't be so bitter." He shut off the water. "Let's make nice so I don't have to worry about you sneaking in my room at night with any pointy objects."

"Ha ha," I replied, rolling my eyes. "How about you just hurry up and get out of the shower so I can take my turn."

"Well, then I'd advise you to shut the door or close your eyes so I can get out without my being improper, now."

"Oh, I don't want to see what you've got anyway," I spat. "Get over yourself and just get a towel on. I need to get cleaned up for dinner." 

I let out a slight gasp as Brayden stepped out of the shower. I diverted my gaze quickly, but not fast enough to keep my cheeks from burning. He deftly wrapped his waist in a towel and walked into his room and shut the door behind him. I had seen a man naked before, but somehow seeing a man naked without his permission was enough to embarrass me to the depths. I grabbed a towel from the linen closet, shed my clothes and stepped into the shower. A few minutes later, I heard a knock on the bathroom door. 

"Piper?" Brayden asked cracking the door. "Mind if I come in? I won't look or nothin'." I smiled to myself. He sounded almost like a child. Maybe he came off a bit rough, but at least he was somewhat considerate of my privacy. 

"Go ahead," I called back as I finished washing my hair. "There's nothing to look at anyway." 

"Is that so?" he asked rhetorically as he slipped into the bathroom. "I'm just gonna give the ol' mug a few strokes of the razor and I'll be out of your way."

"Don't worry about it," I told him. "I'm gonna be a little while longer anyway."

"All right then. So how do you like Boston College?" 

"How did you know I go to BC?" I asked scrubbing my face.

"I live with your parents, remember?" he reminded me with a laugh. "I probably know more about you than you'd be comfortable with."

"That's not exactly what a girl wants to hear when she's in the shower with a complete stranger in her bathroom!" I called out. But I was curious. "But, uh, what exactly do you know about me?"

"Well," Brayden began, "I know that your entire given name is Piper Calliope Whitman, you're 19 years old, just completed your first year at attending Boston College, you're majoring in business finance with a minor in journalism, your roommate's name was Rebecca Jones and she was from Little Rock, Arkansas, the horse that belongs to you is named Patches and she's an eight-year-old pinto mare that you've had her since your thirteenth birthday which is November 16th. You stand exactly 5'9½" and your favorite color is blue. There's probably more but if I continue to talk, I'm pretty sure I'm gonna cut my chin up with this razor." I stood paralyzed in the shower.

"Yep...I'd definitely say 'uncomfortable' fits the description." 

"Memory like an elephant," he commented as I turned off the water. "I remember most facts people tell me. But, I've lived here since the day after you moved out so I've had plenty of time to get to know you without actually meeting you."

"Excuse me for still being a little weirded out," I replied, reaching through the curtain for my towel. "It's weird to have someone know that much about you and not know anything about them in return." I stepped out of the shower and looked at him in the mirror. 

"Well," he said, drying his face, "let me help you out then. My name's Brayden Sawyer Roddick, I'm 23, I graduated from Stanford last spring with my bachelor's in pre-vet, and I'm going to graduate school at Tufts University in the fall, last time I checked I was 6'3" and my favorite color is red. I think that pretty much covers the bases here. Feel better now?" My jaw was nearly on the floor as I stared at him.

"You went to Stanford?" 

"Ouch!" he laughed, pretending to have been stabbed in the heart. "Just 'cause I work with my hands don't mean I didn't score a 1580 on my SATs or go to Stanford on partial scholarship. There's a lot more to me than meets the eye."

I just nodded silently and he turned and walked into his room. I did the same, shutting my side behind me. I quickly dressed and brushed my long, dark hair and swept it up into a loose bun atop my head. I followed the scent of freshly baked biscuits to the kitchen where my mother was finishing preparing dinner and my father, older brother Jeremy, younger sister Amelia and Brayden were already sitting down talking amongst themselves. Amelia, 16, was enraptured by Brayden's tales of life on the west coast and, undoubtedly, his smile. She never passed up a chance to flirt with a good-looking guy, even one who happened to be seven years her senior. She turned on her charm as best she could with plenty of eyelash batting and giggles, but was rewarded with nothing except the kind endearment of "kiddo". I leaned down and gave my father an affectionate kiss on the cheek before slipping into the empty chair next to Brayden. My mother put the roast on the table along with the corn on the cob and mashed potatoes and gravy returning seconds later with the warm biscuits and butter. 

"This is a beautiful spread," Brayden commented. "Thank you, Mrs. Whitman." 

"Oh Brayden," my mother cooed, "I've told you a million times to call me Wendy. Well, dig in everyone. Enjoy!"

We helped ourselves to all of the food on the table, covering every inch of our plates, making sure no one went hungry. 

"I see you've already met Brayden," my father commented to me. "We were sure to tell him all about you before you got down here."

"So I've heard," I replied. 

"I don't think Piper has taken too kindly to me just yet," Brayden said good-naturedly. "I was giving her a bit of a hard time out there in the stables, so y'all can't really blame her. She hasn't had the eight months to get used to me that the rest of you have."

"Piper!" my mother admonished. "Brayden is a very nice young man, and if you would just give him a chance instead of pushing him away like you do everyone, I think you'd realize that."

"Momma, I like Brayden just fine! We're just not used to each other; that's all. Why, I think he's one of the nicest people I've ever met," I lied with a smile. "Now that we're neighbors, I'm sure we'll get along just fine." I saw a half-smile smirk on Brayden's face as I told my mother what she wanted to hear. 

"That's good," she said, "because you two will be working side-by-side this summer. I hired him to help you out with your job, since it's a bit of a task to have only one person looking after twelve horses. I knew you'd be relieved when we hired a helping hand."

"Yeah, relieved."

I don't know how much helping he'll be doing, I thought. Aggravating, maybe. Helpful...not so sure.

We finished dinner and cleared our plates, leaving them for Amelia to do since it was her turn. I went upstairs and grabbed a pair of gardening gloves from my room and walked back downstairs. 

"I'm going to go feed the horses and check their stalls," I called out to my parents. 

"I'll go with you," Brayden said, coming down the stairs. "I have to check on Rosie, anyway."

"What's wrong with Rosie?" I asked him as we walked out. 

"There's nothing wrong with her," he replied smiling. "She's about ready to foal. Didn't you know she was pregnant?"

"No, no one told me!" I exclaimed. "When is she due?"

"She's due on the 10th of May. Just another week and a half. But, she could go anytime before then. I've got to keep a close eye on her." 

We said nothing more as we walked out to the barn. I climbed the ladder to the loft and tossed down three bales of hay. Without being asked, Brayden helped me separate and distribute the hay to each horse. Silently we went about doing our work. With him manning the hose, he watered them while I gave them pellets and grain. We finished feeding and watering all of them within half an hour, less than half the time it usually took. As he wound up the hose and I put away the grain cups, he grasped my hand gently and beckoned for me to follow him. Still, nothing was said as he led me to Rosie's stall where she lay quietly breathing in a mound of fresh straw bedding. Her big brown belly was enormous, rising and falling delicately with each breath. Occasionally she would flick her tail to rid herself of stray flies, or perk up her ears to catch a fleeting sound. She was indeed a beautiful sight. Before I knew what I was doing, I intertwined my fingers with Brayden's and firmly, yet gently, continued to hold his hand as we gazed upon her. She rose to her feet and plodded over to us to see what we were doing. As Brayden affectionately ran his thumb over the back of my knuckles I became aware that we were still holding hands. Quickly I broke the clasp and reached into the bag hanging on the front of Rosie's stall. 

"Hey girl," I said softly, my cheeks flushed. "How about an apple? We want baby to come out big and strong, just like his mom." I held the apple out for her to take. She sniffed and gingerly took it from the palm of my hand, downing it in one bite. I stroked her muzzle as she chewed and I then turned to leave. I walked out of the barn with a quick step, hoping to put distance between Brayden and myself as I returned home. 

"What's got you in such a rush?" he asked as he caught up to me.

"I need to pee," I said, "if you must know."

"There's a perfectly good bathroom right there in the barn. So clean I'd eat off the seat. What's the real reason?"

"Do you always ask this many questions?" I snapped, turning to look at him. 

"Do you always answer a question with another question?" he grinned. I stopped dead in my tracks.

"Listen, it's bad enough that I've got to live in the same house as the person who's taking over my job, never mind sleep next door to him and share a bathroom. But if I have to put up with you every day for the next four months bugging me and always asking questions that are none of your business, well, you can just go find somewhere else to work. I'm not too fond of acting like a babysitter to near-grown men. So, consider yourself warned. Just leave me be!" 

"Aw, shoot, and just when I thought you were gettin' sweet on me, too," he replied with a broad smile.

"What would ever give you that ridiculous idea?!"

"Well, the way you's holdin' my hand back there. You didn't even say one mean word to me the whole time since we left the house."

"I was just trying to make my momma happy," I said matter-of-factly. "And you were the one who grabbed my hand. I was just tryin' to be polite." 

"Whatever you say," he said with a smile. "I'm not too sure what I've done to get under your skin this time, but I'll be sure to stay out of your way from here on out." He tipped the brim of his hat and walked back to the house.

"Good!" I yelled as the door shut. "I couldn't be happier!" What a jerk, I thought. 

#

That night found me sitting in my bed, brushing my long, dark hair listening to my Something Corporate CD, feeling miserable for no apparent reason. I heard Brayden in the bathroom humming a country tune to himself as he brushed his teeth. After I heard him close the door, I sighed and decided to get ready for my night of slumber myself. It was only 9:30, but I knew that 5 a.m. came a lot earlier than I liked. After changing into a tank top and shorts, I brushed my teeth and washed my face. As I dried off, I curiously peered through the door into Brayden's room which he had left slightly ajar. There he stood, turning down the sheets in the buff. I gasped and turned away, my face on fire. It was the second time in one day I'd seen him nude. My heartbeat quickened slightly and I bit my lip; as much as I didn't want to admit it, I wanted to see more. Quietly, I nudged the door open a little bit more and watched as he finished getting ready for bed. He set the alarm on his nightstand, tossed his clothes into a hamper and climbed into bed. He had a beautiful physique, his arms and face a slightly darker shade than the rest of him. His muscles were not bulked, but toned. They were the result of working outdoors and laboring, not of vainly making trips to the health clubs to impress the ladies. His chest was bare and just a tiny bit of fuzz was present on his stomach. His manhood lay nestled in a small thatch of dark hair, fairly large, even though flaccid. No matter what I thought of his personality, there was no denying his outer beauty. I turned away as he switched off the light and tiptoed back to my room. Immediately I switched off the light and crawled into my bed. 


Wish Upon a Star



PROLOGUE:

I guess I'm not sure how I should tell this story. My story. My story of growing up and of turning the corner between childhood and adulthood. It happened a long time ago, but even now, when I think about it, my heart stands still. A bit of nostalgia takes me back to that sweet night in Paris, where I lost my virginity but kept something even more precious – the ability to wish on a star and believe it will come true.

******

CHAPTER ONE: PLANNING THE TRIP

I have to start before that night. I have to start somewhere in my senior year of high school. For everyone who's ever been a senior, you probably recall the feeling. It's intoxicating. You're the big fish in the small pond, you have everything to live for and nothing to lose, and the biggest stress on your mind is passing finals. But there was more. Not only had I come down with a bad case of senioritis, I was also sick in love.

I was in love with my best friend. It sounds romantic, doesn't it? I had fantasy after fantasy of the two of us going out on Friday night and somehow ending the night in each other's arms. I must have worked out a hundred ways that one of us could make 'the move' and change our relationship forever. Reality, of course, was much different. The reality was that even though we were each other's 'on-call' Friday and Saturday night dates, the most romantic they ever got was heading to the mostly-vacant local pool hall and laughing at each other over a pair of pool cues, playing one 50-cent game after another until curfews sent us home, each evening ending as platonically as the one before.

Dale wasn't a stunning boy toy, nor was I some gorgeous piece of fluff. We were high school students, not models. He was tall, lanky, and more prone to skate hockey than hitting the gym. His light brown hair was cropped short, and his skin was pasty-white under his torn, baggy jeans. I wasn't much better. My long, dark blonde hair was perpetually stuck in a ponytail, and I wore baggy clothes that hid... well, nothing, really. I was skinny and didn't have much of a figure – I was always just Sarah, Plain and Tall. We didn't hang out with the same groups, although we wound up in a lot of the same honors classes together. I'm not even sure now how we met and became friends, but that's irrelevant now, I suppose. What matters is that by our senior year, we were each other's best friend. I talked him into learning tae kwon do with me; he was teaching me how to drive a stick-shift. He helped me with my calculus homework; I would write his essays for English. Hardly a day went by that we didn't talk. My friends were perpetually commenting on how much like a couple we seemed, but I managed to hide my infatuation even from them. They hardly would have respected my secret, let alone understood why I was keeping it a secret in the first place.

About December or so, Everyone – with a capital E, as in "Everyone is doing it" – was talking about senior trips. Some of our friends didn't have the money for trips or were heading someplace blasé like Mexico or a ski resort, but since Dale and I both had jobs and were pretty cheap when it came to 'essentials' like CDs or the latest fashions, we each had a few thousand dollars stashed away that we were truly ready to drop on something big. He proposed Europe. His dad had to take a business trip to Denmark right after graduation, and Dale asked about dozen people to come with him, evenly split between girls and guys. The plan was simple. We would fly into London, tour Europe on our own for a while, check in with his dad, and then lounge around unsupervised for another week or so before coming home. 

Of course, I was all for the idea. Like I was going to miss a chance to spend two weeks with Dale! So I put the idea to my father, since my mother would follow his lead if I could get his OK. He hemmed and hawed and called Dale's parents several times before finally assenting, provided there would be other girls along to protect me. At the time, I wasn't sure what they would have protected me from, but that was my father's sole condition. I agreed readily.

I never have told my father that all the other girls backed out when the time came to book the trip, but they did. In retrospect, I don't think any of the adults knew I was the only girl along, but when the tickets were bought, the head count was four guys – Jared, Bryan, Brad, and Dale – and me. We were to leave the Monday after graduation and spend two weeks in Europe, seeing all the sights we could handle and backpacking it from one city to the next. It was the perfect trip. We had money, freedom, innocence, and... at least in my case... love. 

*****

CHAPTER TWO: ARRIVING IN LONDON

Dale picked me up bright and early that fateful Monday. I tossed my backpack into the back of his truck and hopped in, bleary-eyed but OH-so-excited. By the time we got to the airport, which was nearly deserted at that time of morning, the gas station coffee had kicked in, and we were both jumpy. We parked his truck in the airport parking lot and scooted inside, where the rest of the guys were waiting at the airport gate for us. We watched and waited impatiently, the guys mostly talking while I stared out the window. Eventually the plane was ready to board.

I remember that Dale walked up next to me as the first- and business-class passengers were called, and I could smell his musky cologne (I had bought it for his birthday that March) hovering around him. I half-closed my eyes to gather the scent, which is part of my life forever.

"You ready?" he asked, a hint of nervousness in his voice. 

I looked up at him and smiled. 

"I'll never be more ready than I am right now," was my ambivalent answer. "I guess this is it, huh?"

"Yup," he said, smiling back. "I guess it is."

We paused for a moment, both lost in our own thoughts.

"HEY!" Brad's voice cut through my mental fog. I had been dreaming yet again that Dale would give me a hint of something more than friendship. "We're boarding. Y'all comin' or not?"

I never cared for Brad. I never cared for Bryan, either. Jared wasn't bad in his own way, but... oh, I'll get to all that in its own time.

"Yeah, we're comin'," Dale shot back for both of us. We caught up with the other three as they joined the line heading into the walkway. 

Takeoff was uneventful, and soon enough, the flight attendants began their slow trek down the aisles, handing out drinks and snacks. Our tickets had given us specific seats on the plane, but since the plane was nearly empty, the guys swapped so they could talk. This meant I had the window, and once the guys got together, I had no one to talk to. I was too excited to really notice, and the flight was a short one – only an hour before we hit JFK for our connection to London. 

We made it through the New York airport with minimal problems. We only got lost once before Bryan snagged an attractive female employee to point us in the right direction. Soon enough, we were in the air again. This time, because of the vast number of business passengers traveling coach, the guys didn't get to sit where they wanted. I wound up sitting next to Bryan.

*****

Bryan was an asshole. A womanizing, patronizing, dehumanizing asshole. I never really knew why Dale hung out with him, but who was I to judge his friends? Being stuck next to him for a seven-hour flight over the Atlantic was not what I had in mind. It wasn't what he had in mind, either, and he ignored me completely. When the flight attendant reached us with our lunches, he started chatting her up. Unfortunately, she was one of those perky young flight attendants that give the job its reputation, so she giggled delightedly at this attention from a handsome – yes, Bryan was handsome if you didn't know he was an asshole – young man. I tried not to listen, but snippets of conversation still slipped through. She had to move on, but once she had made her rounds, she came back to inquire if he needed anything and stayed for another five minutes while Bryan flirted obscenely and eyeballed her ample tits. I guess she was flattered, because she brought him a Crown and Coke. I'm not sure why. Apparently she just decided it was irrelevant that he was only 18 and had no intentions of paying for such a drink.

He downed the Coke in about two seconds, and she kept them coming for three or four more rounds before she thought better about giving him any more. He got mad at that, called her a bitch, and then – joy of all joys – turned his attention to me.

"How come women can be such bitches?" he snarled drunkenly. "How come they always just tease? I bet you're like that, aren't you? Do you give it up?"

I tried to ignore him, but he wasn't having it.

"Come on, baby," he crooned, apparently realizing he might have come off a bit rough. "You wanna piece of this, doncha?"

"Bryan...," I began, not sure how to continue, "you're drunk."

"Naaaaaaahhhh," he drawled, "the only problem I got right now is this."

He motioned with his right hand to his pants, which were bulging. 

I rolled my eyes. 

"Well, take it elsewhere," I said, trying to return to the book I had brought along. "I'm not interested in your problems."

Bryan tried to tug the book out of my hands.

"Come on, baby," he repeated, leaning over, pressing himself against me and talking louder. "You know you want it."

"Bryan! Piss off!" I hissed. "I am NOT interested in you!"

Bryan started to snarl again. 

"Bitch," he hiccupped, shoving off of me. "Lesbian, probably. I bet you've never been laid in your life."

"Oh, go to hell, Bryan," I said, standing up and shoving past him to get to the restroom. 

Once I wedged myself into the miniscule bathroom, I stood there for a minute, trying to compose myself and wondering what Bryan would do once I sat back down. As I realized what I might have gotten myself into, I had to fight tears. I was a long way from home with four men, and I couldn't truly count on any of them to care for me. It took about ten minutes before I was able to think straight, but once I did, I determined that I could handle being on my own if that's what it came to. With newfound confidence, I returned to my seat to discover that Bryan had passed out. 

*****

Bryan returned to consciousness as we began our descent into London. He had a hangover, and at least it kept him quiet, although I could see him eyeing me. We disembarked, gathered our luggage, and wormed our way through customs before stepping into the steamy London night. There were people everywhere, and we had a hard time getting a cab that was willing to fit in five young folks with baggage, but we soon found ourselves posted in front of our first hotel.

We trooped into the lobby and checked in. We booked a small suite for ourselves instead of two separate rooms, since it wound up being slightly cheaper per person. Once we checked in, the problems began. Surprisingly, sleeping arrangements were not the issue. The suite featured a pull-out chair, a pull-out couch, and a queen-size bed. The problem was the room keys – who got one, and who didn't. Since Dale was the 'trip leader,' so to speak, he got one. But when it came time to hand out the second one, things got ugly fast.

"I call it!" Brad announced in the elevator, holding his hand out to Dale.

"Call what?" Dale asked.

"The key... duh," Brad replied.

I caught Dale's eye and gave him a pleading look. Brad caught it, too.

"No way," he said. "You can't give her the key."

"Why not?" Dale wanted to know. "She's the only girl."

"So? She chose to come with us, and we'll all be doing the same stuff anyway."

"Yeah," Bryan chimed in, "you'll do what we say, woncha, sweetie?"

I could feel my insides crawling as Bryan wrapped an arm around me. The rest of the group looked elsewhere. I tried to catch Dale's eye, but he didn't want to meet my gaze, either. The elevator shuddered to a halt on our floor before anyone spoke. It was Jared that gave a solution. He was the peacemaker in the group, but he was still a guy.

"Look... why don't we get up to the room and draw straws for the key?"

"Good idea," Dale said, looking relieved, as we walked down the brightly lit hallway.

We found the suite and walked in. The place was nice – I've since discovered most suites are – and Bryan instantly found a stash of coffee straws. He cut one short with a pocketknife, gathered them in his hand, and turned to me.

"You first, honey," he mocked me.

Silently, I drew. Long. No key for me. I walked over to my pull-out chair and began making it up as a bed while the other guys drew. Brad drew the key, much to his satisfaction, and Dale surrendered it without a fight. We were all exhausted from jet lag, and Bryan still had a hangover, so we all crashed before much more was said. As I stared out the window into the London night, I could see a few bright stars shining their way through the glow of the city. I shut my eyes and wished on the first one I saw. It was a habit I had kept since I was a little girl, and this time, I wished Dale would protect me during this trip. It was a big order.

*****

CHAPTER THREE: LONDON

The next morning dawned London-esque. You know, very stereotypical gray and just barely warm enough to wear short sleeves. I was up first, so I stepped into the bathroom and locked the door for a quick shower. Before I was done, I could hear the guys moving around. Bryan was the first to knock – well, bang – on the door.

"You 'bout done in there?"

"Hold your horses. I just gotta get dressed," I retorted.

"Why don't you come dress out here where we can watch?"

"Bryan, cool it," Dale's voice cut through the steam in the bathroom. "If you're gonna be like this the whole damn trip, you can go home."

Dale didn't know it, but that one sentence assured me that he was on my side at least a little bit. I felt much more confident.

"Hey, she's not your girlfriend. Why can't I have a look?"

"Get over it," Jared said, throwing a pillow at Bryan as I opened the door. "She's not your girlfriend, either."

Bryan trudged into the bathroom while I walked over to the dresser and put on some light make-up. Even though Dale had seen me at my worst, that was no reason for him to think I was letting myself go. I glanced at him through the mirror as he lay on the bed, watching British television in his boxers. He rubbed his hand over his face, wiping away the last bits of sleep. I'd never seen him first thing in the morning, and it was pleasant. I smiled as Jared pulled out our vague itinerary.

"Do we cross the Channel today or tomorrow?" he asked Dale.

Dale sat up.

"Tomorrow, I think," he said. "We have one full day here before we head to Paris. You know my dad's meeting us there instead of us going up to Denmark."

"We're not going to Copenhagen?" Brad asked. "I can live with that, but can we still make it up to Amsterdam?"

"Let's not and say we did," I quipped. "I just want to see London, Paris, and Rome."

"And Marseille," Dale added. 

"And Marseille," I agreed. Dale spoke fluent French, thanks to his extra work in that particular class, so we had agreed to spend most of our time in that country. "And didn't we say we'd swing by Florence?"

"Something like that," Dale said. "Depends on the train passes, I guess."

"Gee," Brad's voice dripped with sarcasm. "I guess the rest of us don't have a say, huh?"

"We could take a vote," said the ever-tactful Jared. His version of diplomacy was rapidly starting to annoy.

"That works for me," said Dale, looking at me. I shrugged.

Bryan walked out of the bathroom.

"Bryan, wanna go to Amsterdam or not?" Brad cornered him instantly.

"Hell, yeah!" was the immediate response.

"Jared?" Brad asked next.

"Don't care," Jared shrugged as he walked into the bathroom. "Whatever you guys decide is fine with me."

"We know what your opinion is," Brad said to me before addressing Dale. "I guess it's your vote that decides."

Dale hesitated, pretending to be busy reading the TV listings next to the bed. I waited nervously.

"I guess it doesn't really matter," he finally stated, "as long as we're in Paris when my dad arrives."

Brad was jubilant.

"Amsterdam, here we come!" he trumpeted.

Dale looked over at me to gauge my reaction. I tried my best not to look disappointed, but I guess I must have failed. Dale looked away.

"I'm going down to get bus and tube schedules," he said, pulling on a pair of jeans and a T-shirt. "I call next shower."

As he disappeared out the door, Bryan and Brad grinned at each other. They were silent for a few moments before starting in again.

"Guess he's pissed that we outvoted his girlfriend," Brad stated snidely. 

"Her?" Bryan glanced over at me. "Yeah, right. He'd never date her in a million years."

I pretended to be busy, but I could still hear their conversation. Their words cut me to the bone. I didn't know if what Bryan was saying was his opinion or a reflection of Dale's own comments, but tears still sprang to my eyes. I grabbed my purse and bit my lip.

"I'll be back in a bit," I said. "Just gonna walk around the neighborhood."

"Whatever," Brad shot after me. "Take your time."

"I'm not even sure why he let her come in the first place," Bryan growled as the door closed behind me. "It'll be hard to pick up chicks, and she's gonna wanna...."

I hurried down the hall to the elevator and punched the 'down' button with more vigor than it really deserved. I could feel the tears welling up in my eyes again, but I'll have been damned if I was going to let Brad and Bryan see me cry. Seconds later, the elevator arrived, and I moved back to let any occupants out as the first tear slid down my cheek.

Dale was inside. He stepped out and looked at me.

"What's wrong, Sarah?" he asked, reaching for me. "Is it Amsterdam? I'll go back and tell them we won't go. I didn't realize it was that important to you."

I shrugged him off and dashed into the elevator before the door closed. Dale held the door open, though, staring at me with a worried look.

"It's not that. Don't worry about me," I said, struggling not to choke on the words. "I'm just... homesick."

Dale let go, and the door slid shut. As the elevator began to move, I leaned back and silently cried my way down to the lobby. Wandering around the neighborhood did help, because I had to concentrate on staying on the left side of the sidewalk. From our hotel, you could see a tube station; cars, cabs and buses trundled past while I walked. When I returned, all of the guys had showered and were ready to go. I grabbed some traveler's checks to cash at the front desk, and we started out.

*****

Our first day in Europe went relatively smoothly, since we mostly wanted to see the same sights – Buckingham Palace, Whitechapel (we walked a bit of the Jack the Ripper route), Tower of London, Big Ben.

By the end of the day, we were exhausted. At 8:30 p.m., we were all collapsed at a table in a fish & chip shop near Big Ben, laughing hysterically. For some reason, it was extraordinarily humorous that there actually WERE fish & chip shops in London. It was just too much of a stereotype, I suppose, and combined with the remnants of jet lag, everything was funny.

After a bit, the last of our energy began to wane and we sat around quietly, staring out the window. The London Eye was within our view, and we watched the last of the evening's capsules circle slowly up and down, tracing bright arcs in the night sky.

"I'd like to go on that," I commented softly, secretly hoping that Dale would respond.

"Mmm," he answered as he munched on his last piece of fish. He gazed at the Eye, and then at me for a minute, but said nothing more.

"I would, too, but not with you guys," Bryan commented, ogling yet another girl. "She'd be nice, though."




Wish Upon a Star



"Bryan, do you ever think about anything but getting laid?" I asked sarcastically. "You've probably never had sex in your life."

"No, I don't, and yes, I have," he retorted. "Why do you think I even came on this trip? I wanna get it on with some European chicks!"

"Oh, Lord," I muttered into my drink. "You actually think they're gonna go for you?"

"Why wouldn't they?" Bryan challenged.

"Never mind," I said, trying to defuse the situation. "I'm sure they would. You're very handsome."

That got a bit of a different response, from Brad as well as from Bryan.

"You think I'm sexy, huh?" Bryan asked, the leer returning to his face. "I knew you wanted me. You couldn't keep your hands off me on the plane yesterday."

"Really?" said Brad, egging Bryan on. "I wondered what you two were up to."

I was too tired for argument.

"We weren't up to anything, Brad... and Bryan, I'm amazed you even remember the plane ride."

"Oh, I remember it all right. I remember you saying you wanted a piece of this."

"Bryan, shut up. You were drunk as a skunk with altitude and alcohol. I wouldn't want a piece of you if you were the last man on earth."

Bryan leaned across the table toward me. I tried to evade him, but he snagged my shirt and pulled me to him.

"Come on," he whispered into my ear. "I know you want me. Why don't we head back to the room now?"

"Bryan, go to hell!" I muttered, pushing him back into his seat. 

Bryan grinned, and Brad laughed like it was all some kind of a joke. Bryan leaned over and obviously told Brad what he had said, because Brad eyed me and chuckled again. Suddenly, my T-shirt felt too tight for my chest, and I crossed my arms to protect myself from Bryan's invading gaze. He and Brad grinned.

I had just about had enough. Everyone was done eating, and I saw no sense in sticking around subjecting myself to two boys imagining me in a compromising position.

"Dale, can we go now?" I asked pointedly. He and Jared had been having a quiet conversation of their own while Bryan had been picking on me, and I felt bad at having to intrude.

Dale jumped when I said his name, but he quickly recovered.

"Yeah, sure," he said. "Everything OK?"

"Ask them," I said, motioning to Bryan and Brad as I rose to leave. 

Dale looked inquiringly at the offending pair. They glanced at each other and snickered. Jared stayed out of it.

We had to ride the tube back to the hotel, and even though it was after 9 p.m., the car was still crowded with people. We had to cram ourselves on, and I tried to stay behind Brad and Bryan so there would be no more staring at my chest. It didn't help, though. Once we boarded the crowded train, Bryan maneuvered himself directly in front of me and spent the entire ride staring at me. Once, when the train jerked, he 'fell' against me, brushing my breasts, and chuckled eerily.

"Oops," he said, grinning. 

I looked away. Nobody else had seen him do it. I felt sick to my stomach, and by the time we disembarked and walked back to the hotel suite, I was shaking. My shirt and bra felt paper-thin, and I was beginning to wonder what lengths Bryan would take to get what he wanted, from me or any girl. It was a frightening thought, but I kept it to myself. I knew Brad would take Bryan's side, and I knew Jared would avoid the issue. I wasn't even sure if Dale would care. So I kept quiet and figured I could handle any situation on my own. After all, tomorrow was a new day, and we were going to Paris!

*****

CHAPTER FOUR: TO PARIS

The phone next to the bed rang bright (yes, bright!) and early the next morning. We had requested an early wake-up call to get down to the Channel and into Paris by lunch. The guys didn't move when the phone rang, but I staggered up and across the room to answer it.

"'Lo?" I mumbled into the phone. 

"Good mornin', mum," said the polite attendant on the other end of the line. "This is your wake-up call."

"Thanks," I said, somewhat more coherently.

"Of course. Have a good day!" returned the voice as the phone clicked off.

I groaned. The guys were still fast asleep. I figured there was no point in waking them until I'd taken my shower, so I grabbed some clothes and headed for the bathroom. I also grabbed my razor. I hadn't shaved for a few days, and I was getting stubbly. I might have been going to ol' Paree, but I wasn't going to get Continental in front of Dale!

I took my time in the shower, soaking in the heat and steam and making sure all the hair was removed from the appropriate areas. At one point, I thought I heard one of the guys knocking on the door, but I wasn't sure, so I didn't worry too much. I finally climbed out of the shower to hear someone jiggling the door handle.

"Hey, Sarah, you done yet? I gotta go!" came the pleading voice on the other side of the door. It was Jared.

I groaned. I was completely naked, and my hair was a mess. I quickly pulled on a pair of underwear.

"Give me one second," I said, hurrying as much as humanly possible.

"Come on!" he begged. "That sausage from yesterday is barkin'."

"All right, all right!" I exclaimed as I wrapped a towel around myself and unlocked the door. "God, we don't want a mess. GO!"

Jared shot in, rushing for the toilet and practically shoving me out the door.

"Shit," I muttered. "Jared, my clothes are in there! Can you hand them to me, please?"

A muffled moan was all I got in return. I turned around to see three more guys staring at me. I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror and realized exactly why. As far as they could tell, I was wearing nothing but a white hotel towel, and my water-darkened hair was straggling down my back nearly to my waist. I tried to manage a smile.

"Mornin'," I said as I worked my way to my chair-bed and sat carefully down. Three pairs of eyes followed my every move.

"What's under the towel?" Bryan was the first to ask... naturally.

"None of your goddamn business," I shot back. "If I want you to know, I'll show you."

"I'll show you mine if you show me yours," Bryan chuckled.

"Nice try, but not gonna happen," I replied. "What are you, ten??"

"Nope, just horny," Brad answered for him. "I'll show you mine, too, if that would help."

I couldn't help but laugh internally. If I had been a slut like the kind they were used to dating, I could have cuckolded them all then and there, but that just wasn't my personality.

"No, Brad, I don't want to see yours, either," I rolled my eyes and stared out the window, shivering in the cool room air.

I glanced over at Dale. His eyes hadn't moved from the towel, but he hadn't spoken a word, either. I wondered what he was thinking as he repacked his backpack for the day ahead. He saw me staring at him and – though I couldn't believe it – he flushed deep red and turned away, holding his backpack in front of him. It was as he turned that I saw why he must have been blushing. His boxers were bulging out visibly in front.

It took all my strength not to giggle when I saw his hard-on, but I also felt incredibly flattered. At least now I knew I had what it took to make him horny. I knew Dale was a virgin, as was I, but we had never discussed what turned each other on. It was one of those conversations we had never had, despite our closeness. I ducked my head, letting my hair fall in front of my face, and beamed silently. 

Jared came out of the bathroom, temporarily recovered, and someone else walked in for his shower.

A moment later, I heard footsteps softly approaching behind me. Because of my hair, I couldn't see who it was, but I could feel anticipation growing inside me, and I silently wished that this would be the moment where my friendship with Dale turned to something better.

I waited patiently. A male figure softly seated himself next to me, and a pair of hands began to snake around my stomach. I looked down at them and tensed. They weren't Dale's hands; they were Bryan's.

"Let me go," I stated softly as Bryan scooted closer and tightened his grasp.

"Come on, sweetie," he murmured into my ear. "Lemme have a feel."

"No," I said, trying to keep my voice even. "Please stop."

Bryan didn't listen. His right hand began to slip up my ribs toward my breast. I tossed my hair out of my face and looked desperately around the room. I just couldn't believe that Dale would allow Bryan to behave this way. Dale wasn't around; he was the one who had gone into the bathroom. Jared and Brad were pretending to be occupied on the far side of the room. Bryan's hand continued its slow ascent. I curled my arms over my chest, trying to cover my body.

"Bryan, stop," I pleaded softly. "Don't touch me."

Bryan grunted dissent, and at the same time, his right thumb touched the bottom edge of my breast. Somehow, this invasive contact broke my trance.

"STOP!" I cried. "Stop stop stop!"

Bryan jumped back as Jared and Brad stared from the other side of the room.

"What's up with you?" Bryan inquired menacingly, rising from his seat and holding his hands up innocently.

I didn't want to answer. I didn't want to do anything but disappear. I had never felt so alone, so abandoned, in my life, and Bryan was still standing over me, laughing.

"Just... stop," I repeated, curling my body in half and rocking back and forth. "You know what you did. Just stop. Just stop."

Brad and Jared apparently considered the situation under control, so they went back to their conversation. Bryan glanced at them and then leaned over. Instinctively, I turned away, but he grabbed my head and placed his mouth near my ear like he had done the night before.

"I always get what I want," he hissed, "and right now, I... want... you."

He flipped my head away, leaving me numb with fear and dread. Bryan stalked away just as Dale came out of the bathroom.

"You wanna go get dressed now?" Dale asked nonchalantly.

I rushed past him and slammed the door, then leaned against it and shuddered uncontrollably. I couldn't believe what had happened. I knew now that Bryan was a violent, controlling person – much worse than I had ever thought him to be, and I knew that if he ever caught me alone, I would be at risk. A soft knock at the door made me jump.

"Who is it?" I asked, trying to control my voice.

"It's me," Dale said. "You OK?"

"I'll be fine," I said, staring at my reflection in the mirror. "Just give me a second to get dressed."

"Are you sure?" Dale asked. 

He did sound genuinely concerned, but I knew that Bryan would deny any wrongdoing, and it would come down to my word against his. If I had been confident that Brad or Jared would back me up, I probably would have said something, but they had sat silently by and let Bryan do... what he did..., and so I couldn't trust them.

"I'm sure," I replied, my voice slightly stronger. 

"OK, if you say so," Dale said dubiously. I heard his footsteps walk away from the door.

I let the towel fall and almost instinctively covered my breasts with my arms. It was frightening how much influence Bryan was exerting over me, even though he wasn't in the room. As I dressed, I began to notice how my clothes fit. My V-neck shirt suddenly seemed very low-cut, and my shorts suddenly seemed too short. But I had to get dressed, and I couldn't make everyone late for the Tunnel because I had wardrobe dilemmas. I shuddered again before I hurried out of the bathroom. I curled up silently on my chair while the rest of the guys showered, shaved, and dressed. Dale could easily tell something was still upsetting me, but he knew better than to ask in front of everyone else. Bryan kept shooting me menacing glances which I tried hard to ignore.

As we boarded the bus to Kent and the entrance to the Tunnel, I hung back, waiting to see where everyone sat. Unfortunately, Dale, in his capacity as leader, boarded first. Bryan, with yet another meaningful glare, sat next to him. The other two sat together, so yet again, I was left on my own. The trip to the Tunnel was uneventful, and I spent most of my time staring out the window at the English countryside. It probably was quite beautiful – it was on the way back, anyway – but I can't say I remember much of it. My mind was racing. I desperately wanted to tell Dale what had happened, but I wasn't sure how to even begin to tell him. Before I had come up with a plan, it was time to board the train through the Tunnel. 

For once, I got lucky. I was seated next to the 'window,' and Dale sat next to me. Bryan was on the other side of the train. My relief must have been visible to Dale, since we had barely seated before he turned to me.

"What's wrong?" he asked. "And don't tell me nothing. I can see it written all over your face."

I could feel the fear coming back, and as the last of the passengers boarded the train, I began to shake again. Tears streamed down my cheeks, and I had to bite my lip to keep from sobbing audibly. It was such a relief to know that Dale was still my best friend that it took most of my strength not to collapse into his arms.

Dale saw my emotional outpouring and reached for my hand, something he had never done before.

"Hey, hey," he whispered gently. "Are you still homesick? Is it about Amsterdam? It's ok, you know. I'm here."

His gentle words, although misdirected, were exactly what I needed to hear. I grabbed his hand and squeezed it so hard I saw him wince. His visible pain brought me back to reality.

"I'm sorry," I whispered hoarsely. "I'm sorry. I'm not homesick – I shouldn't have come – Bryan – it's not Amsterdam – I'm so sorry."

The words tumbled out before I had a chance to check them, but Dale didn't miss a single syllable.

"Bryan?" he asked gently. He took a surreptitious glance in the direction of the offending party. "What about him?"

"He... he... I can't tell you. I don't know what he'll do. I'll be ok," I replied more confidently, wiping my eyes.

I was beginning to regain my composure as the train jolted out of the station and began racing away from England. 

"What he'll do...?" Dale was obviously confused. "What..."

I cut Dale off with a shake of my head.

"Can I talk for just a sec?" I asked, trying to work out the best way to approach the subject.

"Yeah, sure," Dale said, waiting patiently for me to begin. 

I laced my fingers through his for a moment, wishing I could enjoy the physical contact in a more romantic setting. Then I began my tale of fear. I told him about the plane ride, continued with the fish & chips shop, and ended with the escapade of the morning. I avoided looking at Dale as I spoke, and he sat in silence. Once I was finished, I waited a few moments, and then looked up at him, holding my breath, to gauge his reaction.

"Omigod," he finally said, his eyes blazing. 

I exhaled. He believed me. He believed me... and I had never seen him look so angry. His face was white and contorted with rage.

"I can't believe he would... well, yes... THIS morning?" Dale continued. 

"While you were in the shower," I confirmed.

Dale looked down and rubbed my hand like he was trying to warm me up. He shot a quick look across the aisle to make sure the others weren't listening. Bryan was absorbed in looking at a girlie mag with Brad.

"Shit, Sarah. I had no idea he was like that. You have to know I would never let anyone do that to you. He's talked before... about other girls... he calls them his 'conquests,' but... I never thought it was a literal term. I'll kill him... If he ever touches you again, I'll kill him."

Now Dale was the one shaking, and suddenly I was the one in control.

"Dale, don't go nuts," I begged, still clasping his hand. "If he finds out you know, he's likely to get even more desperate."

Dale wasn't in the mood to listen.

"And Brad and Jared didn't stop him, you said?"

"Like I said, I'm not sure they knew what was going on." 

I tried to explain, but Dale wasn't buying it.

"Oh, I bet they knew. Brad knew, at the very least. Holy shit... I'm not letting you out of my sight again."

He gave my hand a squeeze before letting go. I didn't want to give up my prize, but I didn't think this would be the time for any more earth-shaking revelations. His words, though, warmed me to the very core. I felt so much better, I actually smiled.

"I'll have to go pee eventually," I joked, "and take a shower... and so will you, for that matter. But please, don't go nuts. I'll be OK... it was just a bit of a shock."

Dale's face clouded as he studied me carefully.

"Don't say that," he said flatly. "God, Sarah, he... he molested you. How can you say 'don't go nuts?'"

The train shuddered to a halt in Calais, and we rose to collect our gear and head to a bus waiting to take us to Paris.

"Just don't, please," I said yet again. "If he knew you knew..."

I trailed off as I caught Bryan's eye. Dale intercepted the look grimly, but kept silent. As we walked off the train, Dale rubbed my arm.

"Thank you for telling me," he whispered. "I won't go nuts... I'll just keep a better eye out. I gotta take care of you, you know."

I blushed softly. I had never been one who needed 'caring for' by anyone. Past boyfriends had always commented how independent I was, but now Dale was acting like I was a precious commodity that had to be protected. It was a sexy feeling.

*****

CHAPTER FIVE: PARIS (DAY ONE)

Once in Paris, the atmosphere of our group changed. In England, everyone spoke English; in France, lots of people spoke English, but you didn't know it until you started talking. We were dependent on our translators. Dale was the most proficient in French, but Jared and Bryan knew enough to impress some of the locals.

Since it was still morning, we couldn't check into a hotel yet, so we decided to do some sight-seeing first. Specifically, we decided to hit the Louvre. We knew we would never make it through the entire museum, but we figured if we spent most of the day there, and then checked in and saw the Eiffel Tower at night, it would be a good first day in Paris.

The day passed quickly. We found a hotel easily enough, but we had to book two adjoining rooms instead of a suite. Each room had two single beds, so someone was going to wind up sleeping on the floor, but we had all figured that would happen sooner or later.

We grabbed dinner before heading out to the Eiffel Tower, about 9 p.m. It was a weeknight, so there probably weren't as many people out as on the weekend, but there were still hoards of locals out whooping it up in the restaurants.

The cacophony of a foreign language had my ears ringing, but Dale and Jared kept us well-apprised of any pertinent conversations. Bryan had been moody and silent all day, and he or Brad had been eyeballing me every time I turned around. I tried to shrug it off, but I had a bad feeling developing in the pit of my stomach. I stayed as close to Dale as possible.

The Eiffel Tower was a beautiful sight in the late May evening, rising high up into the sky, bright with lights. The wait for the lift wasn't too long, luckily, and when we reached the second floor, we were told that there would be a wait, but we would be able to make it to the top.

I assumed that meant we would all go together, but it was not to be. Our group was split into two. The crowd waiting for the lift to open pushed me forward with Jared and Bryan, and before I knew it, I was on the lift with them.

"Wait! Attente!" Dale tried to tell the lift operator as the doors closed, but nobody paid him any attention. 

As the elevator began its slow ascent to the top of the Tower, I turned to the windows to view the stunning scene below – I instantly understood the nickname "City of Lights" – but I was also painfully aware that Bryan was moving up behind me. 

I checked to see what Jared was doing, and naturally, he was ignoring the situation, gazing out the windows like they were the only interesting thing around.




Wish Upon a Star



As we rose even higher, Bryan reached me. I could feel his hot breath on my hair, and I winced involuntarily, turning my head away. Bryan chucked darkly and snaked his hands around my waist, tugging me close to him. I ducked my head, but I couldn't move away. There was no room. I looked around to see if anyone was watching, but everyone was absorbed in the view – and nobody was going to pay attention to a young couple, anyway.

"You just can't stay away, can you?" Bryan purred at me, his hand slipping under my shirt and stroking my stomach. "Nice try, hanging on to Dale all day, but I knew I'd get you to myself sooner or later."

My breath was shaky. I tried to suck my stomach away from his hand, but it only served to give Bryan a gap between my stomach and the waistline of my shorts. He didn't miss a beat and slipped his fingertips into my pants. I could feel his penis resting against my ass and knew how turned on he was.

I'm not sure what he would have done next, but the lift slowed to a halt before he could continue. We all trooped out, two at a time, so the elevator could refill with those heading back down. I tried to hurry away from Bryan, but he grabbed my arm and pulled me back toward him. Jared glanced at us, looked away shamefaced, and disappeared into the crowd. I was alone.

"Come on, sweetie," Bryan crooned, holding my arm with an iron grip. "Let's go see the view."

I had very little choice to but to obey. I spoke no French – Bryan did – and there was literally nowhere to run. He dragged me to the edge of the platform and positioned me in front of him again so his body was pressed against my back. 

"Does Dale know?" Bryan asked, trying to get his hands back in their previous positions. 

I bloated my stomach so he couldn't get in my pants again, but Bryan was not to be deterred. He just went up instead of down, rubbing higher on my stomach with one hand and slipping the other down toward my crotch.

"Does Dale know?" Bryan asked again, his lower thumb tugging at the flap covering the zipper on my shorts. 

His upper hand stroked my stomach with a warm touch, but I felt chilled to the bone. I also felt numb, inside and out, as I pretended to stare at the gorgeous view beyond. How I wished I was down there, one of the barely-visible ants that crawled, busy and unmolested, across the city.

"No," I finally whispered, barely audible, lying to protect the man I loved.

Bryan grunted what I took to be approval and ducked his head, reaching to bite my neck. I whimpered and tried to block his lips, but this only served to encourage him. He grasped me more forcefully, his hand now cupping the bottom of my left breast. He ground his hips into my back; I could feel his penis highly erect through his jeans. I looked away, tears forming in my eyes as Bryan moaned gently into my ear.

I looked up at the sky, mentally crying out for help. As my gaze rose, and I caught sight of a star – just one, shining through the glare of the lights. As Bryan continued to kiss and massage my body, I shut my eyes tightly and wished. A lone tear slid down my cheek. 

Without warning, Bryan stopped. I could feel his muscles tense against me. I didn't move, not wanting to trigger anything. Bryan turned his head, and I realized what must have stopped him. Another lift was arriving.

"Keep your mouth shut," Bryan threatened, obviously not wanting to be caught in a compromising position in case Dale was en route.

I nodded numbly, and Bryan whipped around on his heel and left. I heard the lift doors open, and I rushed toward it to get on and go back down. Dale was the third person out, followed by Brad. Brad saw me, grinned devilishly, and disappeared. Dale stopped a few feet away, but he didn't see me.

"Dale?" I whispered hoarsely.

He looked up, his eyes landing on me. They immediately read my terror and pain.

"Oh, God, Sarah," he said, his entire frame going limp. He took a step toward me, his arm out, as the lift emptied.

"Just get me out of here," I cried softly, entering the elevator.

Dale followed. As more people filed on, I stared out the window blankly. I still couldn't feel anything, and I couldn't talk. Dale understood and stood silently by as we traveled back down to the second level. At one point, another passenger brushed against me, and I jumped, cringing, into a corner.

Once on the second level, Dale looked down at me again. I could feel him behind me, but I still didn't feel safe. I wanted to be as far away from Bryan as I could get. I rushed over to the elevator down to the ground and waited for it to arrive. Dale came with me.

He cleared his throat, obviously wanting to say something. 

"Uuuhh...," he began. 

I shook my head.

"Can we get to the ground first?" I asked, looking directly at him for the first time since the top.

Dale nodded and moved closer, but he avoided touching me. I was grateful for his discretion. 

We finally reached solid ground, and I walked swiftly away from the exit, stopping only when there was enough clear space for us to sit on the ground together. Then I collapsed, the reality of what had happened sinking in all at once.

Dale sat with me, facing the exit in case the other guys were on the next lift down. I didn't think it was likely, but I knew he thought it wouldn't be wise to get separated. 

"Shit, Sarah...," Dale said again, looking at me. 

Dale reached for me and gathered me into his arms. It was something I'd wanted him to do for years. In the current situation, however, it didn't quite have the impact I had always imagined it would have. I leaned into him, burying my face in his chest, the silent tears at last coming as my fear was released.

No words were spoken as I cried. Dale held me gently against him, and as I calmed down, I realized he was breathing roughly. I wiped my tears on his now-damp T-shirt and looked up at him.

To my surprise, his eyes were watery. I had never known Dale to cry, but he was visibly fighting back tears. He looked down at me and smiled.

"Thank you," I whispered.

Dale shook his head.

"For what? Some protector I am, letting you get into that elevator."

"That's not your fault," I said as he released me.

I didn't want to let him go, but Dale was shifting his seat. I sat up and straightened my clothes, the first time I had done so since Bryan had touched them.

"How is it not my fault?" Dale wanted to know. "I told you I wouldn't leave you alone with him, and I did. And he got to you. I can tell he got to you."

"Please don't blame yourself," I pleaded. "It just happened. There's nothing you could have done to stop it, and it's over now. It's over. It's over."

I had to repeat that last bit to myself for reassurance. Dale stared me straight in the eye.

"Will you tell me what happened?" he asked gently. "Or do you not want to talk about it."

I smiled wanly and looked away.

"It's all right. He touched me. That's all."

Dale nodded, gazing at me for a moment before rising to his feet.

"Will you be all right on your own for a moment?" he asked. "I need to use the bathroom."

"I'll be fine," I assured him, not entirely believing it, but making my voice strong enough to be convincing.

"Be right back," Dale said, walking swiftly away.

I watched him go, and then turned to watch the exit in case Bryan appeared. After a few minutes of people-watching, I looked up at the sky again. My star was still there, shining brightly. I smiled and mouthed a silent 'Merci.' It twinkled back.

When I looked back down, Dale was walking back to me. At the same time, the other three guys emerged from the Tower. I took a deep breath as my eyes flicked from Dale to the others, wondering who would spot me first.

They all saw me about the same time. Dale smiled with what looked like relief, and Bryan followed my gaze over to him. At that point, I knew Bryan knew. He knew that even if Dale hadn't been aware of what was going on before, he was now. His face darkened, and I shivered in the warm Parisian air.

As we regrouped, Bryan tried to snag Dale. I could guess why – he wanted to gauge how much he knew and try to sway his mind. I ignored the whole charade, focusing instead on getting back to the hotel. Once on the bus, the conversation shifted to the plans for the next day.

"We heading to Amsterdam tomorrow?" Brad asked.

"Can't do it tomorrow," Dale replied. "My dad's checking in with us, remember?"

"What time?" Jared asked.

"Not till 3 p.m. So we wouldn't have time to get to Amsterdam after that."

"Yeah, we could," Bryan said.

He'd obviously taken some time at the Internet café (we e-mailed our parents daily to check in) to check travel times.

"Seriously??" Jared sounded excited. 

"Yeah, we could catch the 3:55 train and get to Amsterdam about 8 p.m."

"Sweet," said Brad, obviously gung-ho about the plan.

"Guys, we just got to Paris today," Dale said. "Can we just spend one more day here? I really wanted to see the Arc de Triomphe and Notre Dame and the Tuileries, and I promised my mom I'd get her something."

"Why can't we do that tomorrow morning?" Bryan pushed. "We'll have plenty of time before we meet your dad."

"Time for all that?" I asked. "No way. The Tuileries alone will take as long as the Louvre did today."

Brad rolled his eyes as we pulled up at our hotel.

"Look," Jared, the ever-diplomatic dipshit, said. "Why don't we just push Amsterdam off for one more day? That train runs daily, right, Bryan?"

"Yes," Bryan admitted grudgingly.

"So we could do one more day here, and then head out on Friday. Why wouldn't that work?" Jared looked from Dale to Bryan to Brad expectantly. I was deliberately left out of the loop.

"Sound great," Dale said, a little too enthusiastically for the rest of the group. "And don't forget, we booked the hotel for two nights, anyway."

"Whatever," Bryan caved, glancing at me.

I could guess the reason for his acquiescence. He knew I wasn't going anywhere without Dale, and Dale wasn't leaving Paris until Friday.

Brad could tell when he was beaten and sat back in sulky silence. We reached the hotel a moment later and trudged up to our rooms, suddenly exhausted with our travels and sight-seeing. Dale, Jared, and I were in one room; Bryan and Brad had the other. All of us had even had room keys. What bothered me now, though, was the way our rooms adjoined. There was one bathroom between them, and the doors only locked from inside the bathroom. I was nervous about the fact that Bryan could enter our room whenever he wanted. I would have preferred a strong lock, or better yet, entirely separate rooms.

As Jared was in the bathroom preparing for bed, I mentioned my concerns to Dale.

"Don't worry," he assured me. "Remember, Jared and I are swapping off who sleeps on the floor? I'll sleep in front of the bathroom door so nobody can get in."

I felt better.

"Thanks," I said, relieved. "What about tomorrow night?"

"We'll work out something. You're safe in here for now. Get a good night's sleep, OK?"

"Yes, Dad," I teased him.

He tossed a pillow at me and I caught it easily. 

"Thanks," I said. "I could always use an extra pillow."

"Nice try," Dale replied, holding his hand out. "I need that if you want me to sleep on this cold, hard floor."

"You volunteered," I reminded him. "I'd sleep on the floor if you wanted."

"No, you had that uncomfortable chair for two nights. It's your turn for a bed."

"And don't you forget it," I ribbed him, grinning. "I plan to snore so loud, you get no sleep at all."

"Funny," Dale snorted. "Verrrry funny."

I took a bow before climbing into bed. Like most European hotels, there was only a fitted sheet on the bed, topped with a quilt or comforter. I lay down as Jared came out of the bathroom, and Dale took his post next to the door. I flipped off my lamp and closed my eyes, listening to the sound of Dale breathing a few feet away. I wished I could just climb down with him, sleeping on his shoulder instead of a lumpy hotel pillow. My thoughts began to drift, and before I knew it, I was asleep.

*****

CHAPTER SIX: PARIS (DAY TWO)

Morning arrived late, but it came with a bang and shout. It sounded like our hotel neighbors were returning from a party.

"Ouvrez la porte!" a voice bellowed through the door. "C'est moi!"

I sat up, for a moment forgetting where I was and nearly falling out of bed. I looked around, gathering my senses. Dale was rising from his spot on the floor and heading for the door. He peeked out.

"Who is it?" Jared asked groggily.

"Dunno," Dale answered. "Qui etes-vous?" 

"Francois, naturellement. Qui etes-vous?"

Nouse sommes Americains. C'est la salle fausse," Dale replied before he whispered a translation back to us.

There was a long pause, followed by a sound like a throat being cleared.

"Michel? Claude?"

"Non," said Dale, struggling not to laugh. "Americans."

Another pause.

"Pardon. Je suis si desole. Bonjour!"

As Francois' footsteps died away, the three of us burst into laughter.

"He was sooo drunk!" I exclaimed through peals of laughter. "I wonder what happened to Michel and Claude?"

"Probably in an entirely different hotel," Dale said, shaking his head. "I guess that's what too much wine will do to you!"

And so, in a wonderfully light-hearted mood, the day began. We joined up with the others after our showers and headed out. 

The day was surprisingly pleasant, given the tension I was feeling. Bryan avoided me like the plague, Dale stuck to my side like glue, and the others pretended like nothing out of the ordinary was going on. 

We met up with Dale's dad at a cute little café. We chatted aimlessly for a bit – he laughed heartily when Dale admitted I was the only female in the group, and he agreed to keep it quiet, provided nothing "sneaky" was going on. Dale shot a glance at Bryan, who was making gestures to four giggling French girls at a nearby table.

Dale's dad saw the look, and his face clouded.

"There's nothing going on, is there?" he asked, glancing from me to Dale.

I looked down; Dale swallowed hard. I knew from past conversations that Dale and his father were close, so I knew keeping the truth a secret would be tough, if not impossible. It was a hard decision, and luckily, one he didn't have to make.

"Hey, dude," Brad interjected. "Those chicks over there want us to come over. Sarah can talk to your dad. Come on."

Dale blinked.

"You go on," he said. "I'll catch up in a bit."

"Are you serious?!?" Brad replied. "Look at 'em – they're totally hot!"

"More for me," Bryan deadpanned. "Leave him here if he wants."

Bryan and Brad rushed off. Jared hesitated only a second, and then followed. Dale looked at me expectantly. I took the bait.

"I'll be at that bookstore over there," I offered, rising. "I'd love to find a good French cookbook for my mom."

Dale nodded and immediately turned to his dad. By the time I reached the bookstore and looked back, Dale was talking rapidly, his hands clenching his glass of Coke. His father was absorbed wholly. I wondered what they were saying and what would happen. I shook my head and began looking around the store. There was no point in acting like a spy. Dale would tell me later, if I didn't find out sooner.

The next time I looked out, Dale's dad was writing something on a business card and handing it to Dale. Dale glanced at Bryan and the others, who were still chatting happily with the mademoiselles, and placed the card in his pocket. The pair rose. Dale shook his dad's hand like it was the closing of a business agreement. His father walked past the others, waving as he walked away, and Dale began looking in the general direction of my bookstore. I thanked the assistant for the books – I had actually found a cookbook in English, as well as a book for me – and walked out.

"Dale," Bryan called as Dale spotted me, "Dale, come on over. Miette wants to meet you."

Bryan indicated a dark-haired, sweet-looking girl with a sweep of his hand. Dale hesitated and looked over at Miette, who waved shyly. He looked at me. I shrugged and indicated I could continue shopping if he wanted to strike up a conversation with the little French thing.

"Come on, man," Brad hollered. "We've already told her you'd say hi. Don't be mean."

I watched in silence as Dale turned and slowly walked to the seat next to Miette. He shot one last glance at me as he sat down, and I forced a smile. There was a park bench nearby, so I sat down to wait while Dale and the others chatted with their new friends. Having nothing better to do, I pulled out my book and began reading. A few minutes later, I was startled when I heard Dale's voice above my head.

"You wanna come and join us?" he asked.

I glanced over at the table, where the rest of the group sat. Miette was watching Dale with interest.

I felt torn. On the one hand, I wanted to be close to Dale and the others; on the other, I didn't want to be the one to stifle his 'game' if he really was interested in Miette. Jealous lover or friend; friend or jealous lover? I really had no choice.

"Nah, it's cool," I said, smiling up at him. "I'm fine here, and if I get bored, I'll just do a little sight-seeing on my own. I know the hotel address if I get lost."

Dale looked back at Miette. She smiled and blew him a kiss. I looked down as Dale waved back.

"Are you sure?" Dale asked gently.

"Of course," I replied brightly. "I don't want to be a fifth wheel. You know that."

Dale sat down next to me.

"Hey," he said, prompting me to look him in the eye.

He looked very earnest as he spoke again.

"You are never a fifth wheel. If I didn't want you at that table, I wouldn't have invited you."

I forced a small laugh, but I looked down at my book again as I spoke.

"No, you invited me because you felt obliged to. You just don't want me to feel left out."

"Well, that's true," Dale admitted, "but..."

"But nothing," I cut him off. "Go! Have fun. I'll be fine. We've already seen the Arc de Triomphe and Notre Dame, and I'm not that interested in the Tuileries like you are. Why don't you all go there this afternoon, and I'll check out some of the other sights. We can meet back here at 8 or so for dinner."

I looked up. Miette was watching us carefully, and Dale sat back. He was obviously making a decision as to whether I would be safe on my own.

"I'll be fine," I assured him. "Bryan will be with you, and you know I've been taking tae kwon do for two years now. Miette is waiting. Go."

Dale rose, eyeing me suspiciously. I avoided his gaze, but I watched his back recede sadly. I hated always having to play the friend. As he reached the table, Miette smiled up at him and patted the chair next to her. A moment later, they were happily conversing with the others. I waited a few minutes, and then rose and hailed a passing cab.

I asked the cab driver – luckily, he understood English – to drive down some of the more famous streets in Paris, and I killed an hour and quite a few dollars doing that. I then went back to the hotel. Sight-seeing wasn't much fun on my own, and I felt immensely hurt that Dale would choose some sweet little French girl over me. I knew I had no right to feel that way, but I did, just as I did whenever he announced that he had a new girlfriend. I decided to take a nap. It would kill time and keep my mind from focusing on the negative.

*****

By the time I woke up, it was 7:30. I had half an hour to dress and get back to the café to meet for dinner. I hurried as I touched up my make-up and hair and caught a bus that ran near the café. I arrived right at eight o'clock.

I looked around, anxiously hoping for some sign of the guys. No such luck.

My park bench from earlier had a couple at one end, but the other end was empty, so I took a seat. The couple looked at me, shared a few quiet words, and left. I was alone yet again.




Wish Upon a Star



At 8:30, the guys still hadn't shown up, and I was about to give up hope and find dinner by myself when yet another bus pulled up. Dale was the first one out, followed closely by the rest. They were all laughing and talking loudly, and I could tell they'd all had at least one glass of wine during the afternoon... probably more like three. So much for the 'evils of wine' touted that morning.

Dale spotted me.

"Sarah, come on!" he drawled. "We're goin' to a party at Giselle's place tonight!"

The girl hanging on Bryan's arm, presumably Giselle, giggled uncontrollably, and Bryan had to hold her up so she wouldn't fall over. I stared at all of them as if I had never seen them before. I certainly hadn't seen Dale drunk before. We weren't teetotalers, but getting plastered had never really been on our agenda.

Dale half-walked, half-swayed over to me.

"Come on," he said, leaning over me and grabbing my arm. "You don't wanna be late, do ya? Giselle said she'll call one of her guy friends for you."

As Dale pulled me to my feet, I jerked my arm away, suddenly livid, and smacked him across the face.

"What the hell do you think I am??" I snarled, looking Dale straight in the eye. "A piece of meat you can just throw to the first guy who comes along? And don't touch me again."

Dale suddenly sobered, realizing how he had just treated me and how he had been perceived.

"Ohhh, shit, Sarah, I'm sorry," he slurred. "I didn't think—"

"I can damn well tell you didn't think," I interrupted him. "And as for your little 'party,' you just go ahead and go with your little French whatever. You think you're the first American she's ever met? I'll be she speaks English really well, doesn't she? Well, don't worry about me. I'll find dinner on my own, so that way you don't have to find some desperate guy to take care of me."

With that outburst, I grabbed my purse and turned on my heel, leaving Dale stunned. He'd seen me upset, but I had never been so angry with him before. It sent a deep ache straight through my heart to be so mad at him, no matter how justified it was.

"Sarah, wait," he called after me as I stalked to the bus stop. If I remembered correctly, a bus back to the hotel was due again any minute. I prayed it would be early.

"Don't bother!" I shouted over my shoulder. "You don't want to keep Miette waiting, do you?"

Dale had been walking after me, but he stopped as I sent back that last barb. I turned. Dale wiped his hand across his brow, as if trying to rub away the effects of the wine. I could tell he was pretty out of it. As I waited for him to regain control, the bus pulled up and the door opened. Three people came out. Dale still stood there, looking at me dumbly. Slowly but deliberately, I turned back around and walked onto the bus, leaving him standing near the park bench.

I knew the entire scene was a horrible cliché, but I looked back as the bus pulled away. Miette was coming up behind Dale, reaching for his hand. I looked away. I couldn't watch any more. The bus was full, and I had the unfortunate luck to be standing next to a young couple in love, giggling and kissing.

"Get a room," I muttered. 

The ride back to the hotel killed another 20 minutes. Once there, I recalled seeing a McDonald's a few blocks away, so I started walking. I crossed a bridge on the way and stopped to look down at whatever river was below. The dark water reflected my mood, but it also reflected the clear sky above. The moon shone down on the water, glistening across the miniscule waves. 

I looked up. Sure enough, my star was in its place, just as it had been the night before.

"What do I do?" I whispered to it. 

I got no response, but I closed my eyes anyway. Peace began to steal over me, despite my desire to be depressed. Miette was a fantasy – the stereotypical Continental girl – and when it was all over and done with, Dale would apologize and we would move on. It would be all right.

I strolled into Mickey D's with a smile on my face and ordered. Grabbing a seat next to the window, I munched on my burger and fries and stared out at the people passing by. There were plenty of couples, lots of groups, and occasionally a single soul wandering the streets, possibly a wounded person like me or just a working citizen heading home after a long day. I had fun mentally guessing occupations, and by the time I was done eating, I was in a genuinely good mood.

Once I got back into the hotel, I stopped for a moment in the lobby to check out the vending machines and grabbed a few snacks and a bottle of water. I figured I could watch a movie before crashing. I had no doubt the guys wouldn't be back for hours, or, if Francois was any indication of French parties, not at all.

I opened the door to the room, humming a light tune, and froze. Something wasn't right. I knew I had left the lights off, but the bedside lamps were on. I heard a thump in the bathroom.

Dropping my purse and junk food on the floor, I left the door cracked in case I needed a quick escape. My heart was pumping rapidly as I tried to work out who could be in my room.

"Hello?" I asked in as firm a voice as I could muster. 

No answer except for a retching sound from the bathroom. It almost sounded like someone was throwing up.

"Hello?" I said, louder.

I took a few steps and peered around the bathroom door. Dale was bending over the toilet, heaving his guts. I heaved, too, but only a sigh of relief. I waited for him to finish as my anger started to return.

"What the hell are you doing here?" I demanded as he flushed.

Dale jumped a mile and fell backward onto the floor. He looked so pathetic, my anger melted instantly.

"Sarah...," he said, closing his eyes and leaning back against the bathtub. "Shit, I've been an ass."

I leaned against the doorframe.

"Where's Miette?" I asked, looking at the far door of the bathroom. "And where are the rest of the guys?"

Dale shook his head.

"They went on to Giselle's. After you left... I just... I just couldn't let you be on your own any more. It wasn't fair. So I came back here, thinking you'd be here, and then...," he burped and grabbed his stomach.

"And then you started throwing up," I finished for him. "How much did you have to drink?"

He groaned.

"Three huge glasses of wine. And nothing to eat. And we were running around in this heat."

Dale hugged the toilet again. I turned away, not really knowing if he wanted me to watch. As I looked back into the bedroom, I saw my bottle of water where I had left it on the floor. I could always get another, and Dale obviously needed something to wash out his mouth. I got the bottle and opened it.

By the time I returned, Dale was flushing again and his color was returning. I walked into the bathroom and held out the water. Dale took it and poured some in his mouth, then spit it into the toilet. He did this a few more times while I grabbed a washcloth and dampened it in the sink. I knelt down next to Dale as he finished rinsing his mouth.

"Lean back," I commanded. "I'm going to wash your face."

Dale did as instructed, and I wiped the sweat and flecks of vomit off his face. It was the first time I'd ever really cared for him, and even in this horrible condition, I smiled. Dale opened his eyes and saw me smiling.

"Enjoying my pain?" he asked, a wry smile on his face.

"No," I said, shaking my head. "I'm sorry you're sick. But I'm glad you're here, and I'm glad I can take care of you."

Dale lifted his head from the wall and watched me as I rinsed the washcloth and began to wipe down the toilet and floor.

"I'm sorry you had to take care of me," he said softly. "I was serious before. I've been a huge ass."

I kept working as I replied.

"It's all right. I knew Miette wasn't a serious thing. I was just mad that you'd try to shove me off on some guy you didn't even know. What if he was another Bryan?"

"I wasn't thinking straight," Dale tried to explain, but I waved him off.

"Forget about it," I said. "Seriously. It's not worth re-hashing. I'm just impressed that you're here now. I really thought you were going to Giselle's."

"I had been going, but I knew you were waiting on us, so I talked the others into coming back for you. They had been just going to stand you up."

I smiled as I rinsed the washcloth again and hung it up to dry. 

"Speaking of standing up – and I'm glad you remembered me – do you think you can make it into the bedroom?"

Dale struggled to stand, and I reached a hand out to help him up. He staggered to his feet.

"Shit, I'm going to have a hangover in the morning," he said, holding his head. "In fact, I think it's starting already."

"Do you want something to eat?" I asked, leading him to his bed for the night. "And I have some serious ibuprofen in my bag if you want some."

"Would you mind?" he asked, lying down. "This really hurts."

I rushed over to my backpack and dug around for the drugs. I rinsed and refilled the water bottle in the bathroom and returned with both.

"Here," I said, handing him the pills and making sure he got them down. 

"Thanks," he smiled wanly. "You're so good, to take care of me after all I've done to you."

"It's what you've done for me that I remember. The only damage you've done is to yourself," I said softly. "Did you want some food? I picked up some chips in the hotel lobby."

"No," Dale replied, "not now. I think if I ate anything now, there would be another mess to clean up, and that's not your job."

I walked down to the end of the bed and started untying his shoes.

"What are you doing?" Dale asked.

"I'm making you more comfortable," I said, smiling up at him. "You're just a bit away from passing out, and you don't need to be moving around... at least, if I don't want to clean up another mess."

Dale closed his eyes and relaxed.

"Mmm, I think you're right," he said. "I'll pay you back for this, you know."

"This is payback, silly," I said, removing both his shoes and setting them by his backpack. "It's my way of thanking you for saving me from Bryan."

"But I didn't...," Dale answered. 

I think he wanted to say more, but he fell asleep before he got the chance. I stood at the foot of the bed for a minute, watching his chest rise and fall, then turned and got ready for bed myself. Within an hour, we were both asleep.

*****

CHAPTER SEVEN: THE SPLIT

A loud bang and the sounds of multiple voices brought me from a sound sleep. I checked the clock. 4:45. The guys were back. I listed for a moment and discerned three distinct though drunken voices through the wall. At least they were all intact. I looked over at Dale. He seemed to be sleeping peacefully. I hoped his hangover was wearing off. I had heard that wine hangovers were particularly nasty. 

The guys crashed around for a while, and then all was silent. I closed my eyes and tried to go back to sleep.

I was just about there when I thought I heard a noise in the bathroom. My ears strained to make sense of the sound when the bathroom door handle rattled softly. 

'Oh,' I thought to myself. 'Jared's bag is in here; he's come for his toothbrush or something.'

I closed my eyes as the door opened, pretending to be asleep. I saw no sense in letting Jared know I was awake. Quiet footsteps entered the room, but they didn't walk over to Jared's bag. They approached me instead. Heavy breathing reached my ears, and I panicked. One thought pounded into my head and heart simultaneously: Bryan... Bryan... Bryan.

I sensed him standing over me, and I thought that if I kept pretending I was asleep, he would go away. Seconds ticked past, each one seeming like minutes. Finally, I had to know, and I peeked through one eye. It was. Bryan. Leering like a monster, lording over me.

A small whimper escaped my lips as Bryan made his move. In one swift motion, he was on top of me, one hand covering my mouth and the other groping at my shirt. I let out a muffled scream and tried to fight back, but Bryan was both bigger and stronger than I was, even drunk, and my struggles only served to enflame him. His eyes roved over my body as he roughly jerked my shirt out from under the comforter and bared my chest. He growled with pleasure.

I bit down the hand covering my mouth, and Bryan responded instantly, reaching back and slapping me across the face with a force I had never felt in my life. I screamed involuntarily.

"Shut up, bitch," Bryan hissed, trying to grab the waistband of my pants. 

I thrashed in the bed, trying to block his arms, but he simply held me down, tugging at my pants mercilessly. Just as he bared my pussy, and just before I went completely numb, Bryan flew backward as if jerked by some invisible string. I used the opportunity to pull my pants up and crawl off the bed. Instinctively, I looked for Dale. His bed was empty.

A moment later I heard a dull crack. 

"You fucking son of a bitch," Dale snarled, drawing back his fist from where he had punched Bryan across the face. "You've touched her for the last time."

Bryan had stumbled backward with the first hit, and Dale didn't miss a beat. He took a step forward and punched him again, this time in the stomach. Bryan doubled in pain.

"I told her I'd kill you if you touched her again, and I've half a mind to do it," Dale continued, drawing back for another blow.

Bryan held up one hand, the other still holding his stomach. Dale was too far gone to quit. He threw another fist toward Bryan's head, and Bryan collapsed on the floor.

"Dale," I whispered as he glowered over Bryan. 

He didn't respond to me, instead kicking Bryan in the ribs.

"Is this how you treat women?" Dale practically shouted. "I'll be damned if you do it on my watch."

"Dale," I said, more strongly.

This time, he blinked and looked up at me where I stood next to his bed.

"Don't kill him," I said. "Just get him out of here."

Bryan looked up at me, and then over at Dale. He moved slowly toward the bathroom door, but Dale blocked it.

"No," he said firmly. "He has to stay in here until someone else gets here. Can you hand me the phone, please, Sarah?"

I stretched the phone's tiny cord as far as it would reach. It was just long enough to reach Dale, but I couldn't put the phone down. 

"That'll work," he said. 

He reached into his pants pocket and pulled out the business card his father had given him the afternoon before and tossed it toward me. I grabbed it and shot a glance at Bryan, who was now sitting against the wall holding his head and stomach. Dale was keeping a close eye on him, muscles tensed.

"See the number on the back?" Dale asked me.

I flipped the card over.

"Yes," I said.

"Read me that number."

"OK," I answered, reading off the digits. I noticed the number was only a four-digit number, but I didn't ask any questions, either. Dale wasn't in the mood for a nosy girl.

Dale dialed, and the phone rang several times before a groggy male voice answered. I recognized Dale's father's voice.

"This is Dale. Come now," he said.

"I'll be there in two minutes," the voice answered, and the line clicked dead.

Dale hung up the phone. There was a long pause.

"How can he be here in two minutes?" I asked Dale.

Dale glanced at me.

"He's in this hotel. Once I told him what was going on, he agreed to keep quiet as long as I told him where we were staying and promised to call him if anything else happened. 

"He's going to escort you home," Dale kicked at Bryan, "and if you try anything funny, like going to the police, he'll tell what really happened."

A soft knock on the door intruded upon my thoughts. I answered it, and Dale's dad strode in, his hair a mess but dressed in a shirt and slacks.

"Something happened?" he asked Dale. 

Dale nodded, motioning to Bryan, who was still drunk and defeated on the floor.

"Get him the fuck out of here," Dale ordered. "I don't want to see him again."

"What about the others?" his dad asked. "Do you want them gone, too?"

Dale hesitated, looking at me. I held out my hands as a sign of deference to his opinion. He shook his head.

"No," he said. "They want to go to Amsterdam; we'll just split up."

Dale's dad nodded. 

"Good idea," he said. "We're bringing one home because he got sick; the others are still on the trip. No extra questions."

"No questions," Dale repeated.

Dale's father turned to me. I quailed under his firm gaze.

"What about your parents?" he asked. "It wouldn't be very responsible of me not to tell them what's been going on. After all, your dad only agreed to this trip if you were with other girls, and now here you are with four guys, one of whom has hurt you."

"Please don't tell them," I pleaded. "I know it probably wasn't smart of me to come, but I wanted to so badly. I've learned, and I'll tell them whatever they want to know when I get home, and if they have any questions, they can call you, but please, please, let me stay. Don't tell them."

I knew I was rambling, but I couldn't help it. Here was my chance to travel alone with Dale, and I didn't want it to end. I also didn't want to face my father if he found out what had been happening to his older daughter.

Dale's dad looked down at Bryan, then at Dale, then at me. He was thinking hard, making one of those adult decisions that can't be fathomed at age 18. Finally, he sighed.

"I'm this far into it," he said. "I might as well go all the way. Dale, you swear to me you'll take care of her for the rest of this trip?"

"On my life," Dale answered solemnly. "I've done a horrible job this far, but I'll protect her to the ends of the earth if I need to."

Dale's dad smiled tiredly.

"Right," he said. "Bryan, up. Let's go pack your bag. We leave at 10 a.m."

Bryan rose painfully and tottered into the other room. Dale went with him as they explained the situation to the others. Fifteen minutes later, Dale was back.

"It's all set," he said, collapsing on my bed where I was curled up on my pillow. "Bryan will go with my dad. He won't talk, under pain of the truth being known. Brad and Jared are also sufficiently scared, and they understand. They're heading for Amsterdam this morning and will spend the rest of their trip however they see fit. We're to head for Rome, like we planned, and do the same."

Dale rubbed his face, and then looked up at me. I crawled down the bed and sat behind him, wrapping him in a bear hug. He held my hands in front.

"Thank you," I whispered into his back. "I don't know what I would have done if you hadn't been here."

"I still should have protected you better. I should have made sure that door was blocked."

"Silly," I said, slapping him gently in the chest. "You passed out, remember? I tucked you in and you were out like a light. There's no way you could have known what Bryan would do."

Dale shook his head.

"I still should have done better. You deserve better."

"You aren't allowed to blame myself unless I'm allowed to blame myself," I responded matter-of-factly. "I could have checked that door just as easily as you could."

Just then, the door in question opened, and Dale's dad walked in, followed by Bryan.

"We're off," he said to Dale. "I'll phone your mother from the airport and let her know that Bryan is sick and coming home with me."

Dale stood, slipping out of my grasp as his father held out his hand for a shake. But instead of shaking his hand, he wrapped his father in a large hug. The older man hugged back, slapping his son on the shoulder.

"You've done well, son," he said. "You've done well. Keep it up."

As the men released each other, Dale's dad turned to me.

"Young lady," he said sternly, "you learn from this, understand? The world isn't made for women to travel with four men."

I nodded, chastened, but took the hand that was offered to me and shook it firmly.




Wish Upon a Star



"On the other hand," Dale's father continued, "you're a strong woman to have survived this and want to stay on. My son has done well to have someone like you in his life."

With his final words, he looked at his son, who in turn looked out the window. I blushed, watching Dale. Dale's father smiled and turned to Bryan, who was standing sullenly by the door.

"Let's go, Bryan," he stated, and the two of them walked out of the room, leaving Dale and I together again.

"Your dad's a great guy," I said softly. "Not every dad would keep his son's secrets."

"No," Dale smiled, clearing his throat. "Not every dad would."

I suddenly felt very tired and looked at the clock. 6:15. An hour and a half since the guys had returned, but ages before I had planned to be awake. I leaned back against the wall and closed my eyes.

"You OK?" Dale asked concernedly.

"Yeah," I smiled, "just tired. Hadn't really planned to be up this early."

Dale glanced at the clock.

"Oh," he said. "I guess I never realized the time. I'm up, though... my adrenaline's pumping too much to sleep. But if you want to sleep, I'll get Jared's things out of here and see them on their way, too."

"All right," I nodded, slipping back under the covers. "That does sound like a nice idea."

Dale drew the curtains and sat at the foot of my bed as I closed my eyes. I could feel him watching me, but it was a pleasant feeling, not at all like the creepy-crawlies I got when Bryan had watched me earlier. I fell asleep quickly.

*****

When I woke again, it was nearly 11 a.m. Dale was watching French television and munching on the snacks I had purchased the night before. I smiled and tossed my comforter off with a flourish. Dale jumped.

"Morning, sleepyhead," he teased me. "I was beginning to think you'd sleep all day and we'd be a day late getting into Marseille."

"Shut up," I replied, throwing my pillow at him. 

It hit him square in the arm, and chips flew everywhere.


"Hey!" he yelled. "That was my breakfast!"

"Some breakfast. It's nearly lunchtime anyway!"

"Yeah, well, hurry up and get dressed. We have to be checked out by noon, and our train leaves at 1:15. Plus, I'm starving!"

"All right, all right, I'm up, I'm up."

I rose and strolled over to my bag. I took my time picking my clothes and wandering into the bathroom. I noticed the only items on the counter were mine.

"Where's your stuff?" I hollered back into the bedroom.

"Packed up," Dale shouted back, "and the other guys left at 10 with my dad."

"Oh," I answered, inwardly pleased. 

Dale and I were on our own. The feeling was exhilarating. I no longer had to worry about anyone else sneaking up on me; I no longer had to worry about him running off with a French slut. I grinned at my reflection in the mirror before I climbed into the shower. I still didn't have a plan for telling Dale how I felt, but just being alone with him was enough for the moment.

I climbed out of the shower a bit later and dressed rapidly, keenly aware that my sleeping in had indeed caused a delay. I threw my wet hair into a quick ponytail and dabbed on a bit of makeup. 

Walking back into the bedroom, I heard Dale flick the TV off. He quickly tidied up the room as I finished packing, and by the time I was ready to go, so was he.

"You ready?" he asked.

I got an odd sense of déjà vu. 

"As ready as I'll ever be," I answered. 

"Then let's go," Dale said, slinging his backpack onto his shoulders.

With that, we walked out of the hotel room and on to Marseille.

*****

CHAPTER EIGHT: ON OUR OWN

We reached Marseille about 4 p.m. We found a hotel room and dropped off our bags before heading out to see the sights. Everything felt so calm, so natural. I began to relax as the afternoon turned into evening, and Dale and I chatted and joked with each other as we had always done.

As Marseille was only a pit stop on our way to Rome, we had no specific agenda. We traveled the streets leisurely and took photos as we saw fit. The day was warm, but not overly so, and we took our dinner as close to the seaside as our pocketbooks would handle. Neither of us was hurting for cash; we had been the 'rich' ones on the trip from the start.

After dinner, we strolled down La Canabière to a beautiful park area overlooking the ocean. The sun had set, but there was just enough of a glow on the horizon that the water appeared both black and gold. The view was stunning.

Neither of us spoke a word as we walked. Groups of young and old walked along with us, and laughter and shouts filled the air as day turned to night. With the night came a cool breeze off of the Mediterranean. At last, I turned to Dale.

"I guess we ought to head back."

I hated breaking the silence, but I'm not good at directions, and I didn't want to get too lost in a foreign city. Dale blinked, waking from his reverie.

"Yes," he said distantly. 

He looked around. 

"I don't recognize any of this," he said. "I guess we'll hail a cab?"

"Fine by me," I said, shrugging. "Are you tired, or is it just me?"

"No, I am, too... I have been up since 5 a.m., you know."

"That's my fault," I said. "I'm sorry."

"Hey, no, no," Dale commanded. "You know damn well it's not your fault. You don't have any right to blame yourself."

I gazed at my feet.

"Sorry. You're right, of course. But I'm still sorry you had to get up at 5 a.m."

"Then let's go home," Dale said, waving a cab over.

Half an hour later, we were back at the hotel.

"God, I'm exhausted," I said as I grabbed my stuff and headed for the miniscule bathroom. "I'm going to get ready for bed."

"Good idea," Dale agreed. "Once you're done, I'll be right behind you."

I brushed my teeth, washed my face, and began to change before I realized that I had left my boxers in the other room. It was an honest mistake; I never wore boxers at home – just a T-shirt and underpants – and in my fatigue, I had just left them in the backpack.

"Dale?" I asked as I stuck my head out the bathroom door. "Dale?"

No answer save a light snore.

"Oh, Dale," I whispered gently, walking out of the bathroom in nothing but my oversized T-shirt and a thong.

He was fast asleep again. I laughed gently. It was the second night in a row I was going to tuck him in. I hoped it wasn't going to become a ritual. I walked down to the end of the bed and began to remove his shoes. He stirred a bit as I untied them, and as I took the first one off, he opened his eyes.

"Shit," I said, embarrassed to be seen in my underwear. I grabbed an end of his comforter and wrapped it around my waist.

"What's wrong?" Dale mumbled, sitting up.

"Oh... nothing, just trying to tuck you in without waking you up."

Dale smiled. 

"Getting to be a habit, is it?"

"Hope not," I grinned. "I'm not your mother."

"No, you're not. Gotta admit I'm glad of that."

"Anyway, I'm out of the bathroom now. You can go change if you want."

Dale heaved himself up and wandered into the bathroom. Immediately, I threw off the comforter and streaked over to my bag. I pawed through it, looking for a pair of boxers. Either I was blind, or they were at the bottom of the backpack. Just as I was in the midst of tossing clothes on the floor in my search, the bathroom door opened again. Dale came out, more alert.

"What time shall I set the alarm for in...," he trailed off.

I turned. He was looking at me and my pile of clothes like I had lost my mind. 

"I forgot my boxers... didn't want you to see my underwear... at home, I don't wear them... boxers, not underwear...," I tried to explain, tripping over my words and mentally visualizing my face at about four different shades of crimson. 

I tried to tug my shirt down, but of course it bounced back up, revealing my zebra-striped thong even more. The silence lasted only a moment longer before Dale's shoulders started shaking. He ducked his head and bit his lip, but he couldn't contain himself. A snort burst out, followed by genuine laughter. I managed a nervous giggle. Here we were, in a French hotel, surrounded by nude beaches, and I was worried about Dale seeing my thong.

At the same time, it was my thong. I gave up on finding the boxers and climbed into my bed, my face still burning.

"The sight of you...," Dale began as his laughter subsided, "... it was great. I'm sorry. I know you're embarrassed. But I really don't care if you sleep like that. I've seen you in a bikini already, anyway... and hell, if it'll make you feel any better, I'll sleep in the nude."

"NONONO!" I shrieked, truly giggling this time. "I think I'll be fine."

I had seen other guys' penises, but never Dale's. The thought was titillating, and so was the thought of Dale seeing me in my thong every day for the next week. I could feel the crotch of my panties moistening, so I curled up.

"Oh, good," Dale said, tucking in as well. "Really wasn't quite up for that."

"That's good," I said, mentally not convinced of what I was saying. "Anyway, let's set the alarm for 9?"

"Nine it is," Dale agreed.

After setting the clock, Dale flipped off the lights, and we bid each other good night. Half an hour later, I was still wide awake. I couldn't sleep. The fact that Dale had seen me in my panties had left me so aroused, I was having a hard time settling my brain. Fantasy after fantasy filled my head.

Finally, I reached down into my panties and rubbed a finger over my pussy. It was dripping. I began to rub my clit. I had to bite my lip to keep from moaning as I worked my way up to an orgasm, but I managed to stifle everything except a bit of heavy breathing. Once I came, I wiped my hand on the sheet and waited for the hormones to set in. Sure enough, within minutes I was feeling tired. I snuggled down as my mind fogged over, vaguely dreaming dreams of Dale.

*****

CHAPTER NINE: TO ITALY

Next thing I knew, the alarm was sounding like a klaxon, and my eyes popped open. Dale leaned over and silenced the clock.

"Mornin'," he said, lying back down on his pillow.

"Mornin'," I answered, smiling back at him. 

Both of us lay still for several minutes before Dale rolled over and hopped out of bed.

"I guess we'd better get up if we're gonna make it to Florence today."

"Mmmm," I agreed, but counterproductively closing my eyes. "You go on. I'll just lay here."

"You better not," Dale warned. "You've got all those clothes to pick up."

I glanced over at the strewn garments. 

"Oh, crap," I grumbled. "I'd forgotten about those. But it does remind me. We need to hit a laundromat sometime today. I'm on my last set of clean clothes."

"Me, too," Dale concurred. "I'm sure there'll be one somewhere, even if it's not until we get to a hotel."

Dale headed into the shower as I got up and began stuffing clothes into my backpack. It wasn't too difficult, since I hadn't bought too many souvenirs. I left out my clothes for the day – a blue spaghetti-strap tank top, long-sleeved jacket, and shorts. It was one of my favorite outfits, and it didn't require a bra, which was good, since they were all dirty.

We left the hotel around 9:45, which meant we had an hour to kill before our train left. We spent it looking in shops and trying to be inconspicuous – hard to do when you're speaking English and have a huge backpack slung over your shoulder. A while later, Dale and I found ourselves on the train, whizzing past the French countryside toward Genoa, Italy. We stared out the window for a while until the scene got monotonous. 

"Wanna play cards?" Dale asked, pulling a deck from his pocket.

We both enjoyed playing gin, and we had dabbled a bit in poker, but that wasn't much fun with only two people. A lot of our friends were die-hard Baptists and didn't play cards.

"Sure," I replied, and the game began.

Six games later, I hadn't won a single round. I was frustrated.

"Forget this," I said, handing him back the cards. "They don't like me today. Either think of a different game or put 'em away."

Dale shuffled thoughtfully.

"We could always play ERS," he suggested, referring to a game called Egyptian Rat Screw. I was famous for winning that game, and Dale knew it.

"Now you're catering to my ego," I grinned.

"I did get told to take care of you," Dale reminded me, dealing the cards. "I guess that has to include your massive ego."

"Hey!" I objected. "Your ego's just as big as mine is, and you know it."

Dale was forced to admit the truth, and the game began. Ten minutes later, I won, and my ego was pacified.

"Much better," I grinned smugly. "I guess that'll wrap it up for this trip. We're nearly there."

The scene from the window was getting more populated as we approached the city.

"What time does our train to Florence leave?" I asked.

"Ummmmm... six-ish? I'll have to look once we get off this train, but I know we have quite a few hours before we have to be back."

"Sounds good," I nodded. "I guess we can check out some of the sights here, too, then."

"Yup. I read somewhere that they have a great aquarium."

"I can imagine, being right on the water like this. If they've got a place to check our bags, that sounds like a good way to go."

*****

The aquarium did indeed have bag check, and the fish were stunning. The afternoon flew by, and before we knew it, it was time to head back to the train station for our trip into Florence.

Since the sun began to set shortly after leaving Genoa, the view was obscured. This left us to our own devices. I contemplated pulling a book out of my bag like Dale had done, but I would have to climb over him to get to it – not something I really felt like doing. I shivered in the cool train air. I had a jacket, but it was in my bag as well.

"You cold?" Dale asked.

"Yeah, a bit," I confirmed, rubbing my goosepimply arms. "I kind of expected the Mediterranean would be warmer this time of year."

Dale looked at me sympathetically. 

"Want a blanket?"

I snuggled into my seat.

"Think you can find one?"

"We can check," Dale said, standing up to look in the overhead compartment.

Moments later, we found one, and I curled up under it. It wasn't a large blanket, but soon I noticed that Dale was eyeing it jealously.

"Are you cold, too?" I asked.

"A little," he admitted sheepishly. "But you keep the blanket. You have on that tank top, so you're probably colder than I am."

"We can share," I offered. "I know it's small, but my top half is the only half of me that's cold. I don't care if my legs are covered or not."


"Are you sure? I don't want you to freeze."

"I won't," I assured Dale, turning the blanket sideways so he could have half. "Here. You take this part."

The blanket was a lot smaller once you fit two people under it, and we had to snuggle very close together just to keep our arms warm. It took some maneuvering (and giggling on my part) before we were comfortable, and eventually I wound up lying on Dale's shoulder. 

"You warming up?" I asked, listening to his breathing.

"Yup," Dale answered. 

He returned to his book. I read over his shoulder for a moment, but I wasn't particularly interested in a true crime book, so I closed my eyes for a moment.

Two hours later, I opened them to find Dale shaking me gently.

"Hey," he said softly. "We're in Florence."

"Huh?" I asked, realizing I'd been asleep. "Oh. Wow. OK."

I lifted my head off Dale's shoulder and watched as he flexed his muscle.

"I'm sorry," I said. "I didn't mean to sack out like that. I guess I was more tired than I realized. Is your shoulder OK?"

"It's fine," Dale smiled. "Just a bit stiff from having to hold still for two hours."

"Sorry," I repeated. "I'll massage it for you once we get to a hotel if you like."

Dale grimaced as he stood and reached to the overhead for our bags.

"I just might take you up on that," he said. 

We disembarked into the brightly lit station and soon found our way to a hotel. We checked in for two nights, and the hotel clerk kept giving us lascivious smirks.

"If only he really knew," I giggled to Dale on our way to the room. "Bet he'd be shocked."

"Probably," said Dale. "You wanna do laundry now or in the morning?"

"I'm up for now," I answered, "but keep in mind I had a nap on the train and you didn't, so it's really up to you."

"I'm game if you are," he grinned. "I want my shoulder massaged before I have to sleep on it again."

I groaned.

"How long are you gonna rub this in?"

"Only until I get my shoulder rubbed. Then I'll quit."

I sighed.

"Let's go get the laundry in the washer, and I'll give you a massage."

Getting the laundry in the washer took a bit of work, since all we had were pounds, francs, and travelers' checks, but soon our laundry – we combined everything into one load – was churning away. Dale stripped off his shirt and sat down on one of the benches.

"All right, massage me," he ordered.

I climbed onto the bench behind him, sitting on my knees, and began to work his shoulder gently. Dale and I had often given each other back rubs and shoulder massages, especially after tough tae kwon do tournaments. Somehow, though, this time was different. Perhaps it was because there was no one else around. Maybe it was because we were in a foreign country. It could have just been destiny. In any case, I could feel myself becoming aroused again as I worked the kinks out of his neck and shoulders. His skin felt particularly smooth against my bare hands, and the smell of laundry detergent only added to the heady atmosphere. I kept working at a steady pace, hoping Dale wouldn't notice a change. I closed my eyes as I worked, leaning into the bench and pressing my hips against it. I sighed audibly as I slipped my hands across Dale's back to work on his other shoulder a bit. Dale shifted in his seat, but there was no other indication that he heard me or felt anything other than my hands.

At last I finished, my hands tired but his shoulder restored. He rose and swung his arm around once, testing my work.

"Better?" I asked, flexing my fingers.

"Much," Dale confirmed.

The washer clicked off, and Dale opened its door. He began to toss everything in a dryer.

"Hang on," I said, browsing through the wet items. "Not all of my clothes can go in the dryer."

Dale looked on curiously as I pulled out the delicates I had brought along. I nodded when I had finished, and Dale started the dryer.

"I'm gonna take these up to the room real quick," I said, squashing my damp undergarments into a small ball so Dale couldn't see them.

"And just what do you think you'll do with them then? Hide them under the bed to dry?" he asked, annoyingly logical. "Just spread them out here so they can start drying while we wait. What are you, a Catholic schoolgirl?"

I giggled and began to do what he suggested, laying my underwear out in a single layer on the folding table.

"Shut up! I'm not used to guys seeing all my underwear. Plus, if I was a Catholic schoolgirl, I'd have probably tossed it into your lap as I took it out of the washer."

"I wouldn't mind that," Dale stated.

I looked up as I lay down the last bra, expecting to see a huge grin on Dale's face. Instead, he was staring at me as earnestly as I'd ever seen him. My heart fluttered, and I busied myself with making sure that last bra was perfectly flat. I shifted my stance as a twinge of desire shot through my abdomen. I knew my face was turning bright red, but I couldn't help it. 

The seconds ticked by as I tried to come up with a suitable response, but nothing came to mind. All I could think of was Dale's light brown eyes as he stared at me. I'd never seen him look like that before, and it made me nervous. I'm not sure why. I'd been hoping he'd look at me like that for two years, and now that he did, here I was acting like a brainless idiot.




Wish Upon A Star



The naked images of Brayden would not leave my mind. I found myself wondering what he would look like if he was turned on. Thinking about it began to turn me on. I began to let my hands wander over my tank top, touching my breasts through the fabric, gently pinching my nipples. I wonder what it would be like to touch him. I sat up enough to lift my tank top over my head and toss it to the floor. I caressed my skin lightly with my fingertips. To kiss him. I used my other hand to stroke my stomach, teasing the area just above my shorts. For him to touch me. I slipped my hand into my shorts and touched the neatly trimmed hair on my mound. I wonder how it would feel. I removed my hand, ripped my shorts off and tossed them to the floor by my tank top. I lay back down and spread my legs. I dipped my finger into my slit, feeling the abundant juices that were already flowing. I flicked my nail over my clit and shuddered. If only it was his tongue, his hands, his... I couldn't even think it to myself. I had fooled around with my ex-boyfriend before, but I hadn't actually slept with him. I used two fingers to begin massaging my clit now, up and down slowly at first, gently rubbing. The more aroused I became, the faster I rubbed, desperately seeking a climax. I hadn't been that turned on in months, not since before I had broken up with Paul in February. I could already feel the tiny fire being stoked in the bottom of my belly as I fingered myself. I furiously continued the assault on my sex, losing all inhibitions. I wanted that orgasm like it was the last piece of bread on earth and I hadn't eaten in weeks. I needed to cum. 

"Oh God, oh God," I panted as I neared orgasm. I whimpered as I pushed myself closer to the edge, moaning louder, bucking my hips slightly. "Oh, God, yes! Oh, Brayden!" I cried out louder than I had meant to as I was driven over the edge into one of the most spectacular orgasms I'd ever had. My body simultaneously tightened and released as I sighed and gasped for breath. I continued to rub as the orgasm ebbed away, and picked up the pace once again to throw myself into another, crying out. The light suddenly flicked on and I jolted up in bed, pulling the sheets to my chest. "Brayden! Jesus Christ what are you doing?!" Standing in a pair of boxers he had thrown on before he ran into my room was Brayden, looking bewildered and concerned.

"I heard yelling and you called my name! I thought something was wrong. Are you okay?"

"For Christ's sake, get out of my room! I'm fine, just leave!" I sat trembling beneath the thin sheet, my face flushed, a knot in my stomach. He looked at the discarded clothes on the floor and back at me and grinned.

"I'm, uh, sorry for interrupting," he said, trying to hold back a laugh. "I'll be on my way now." With that he turned and left, shutting my door to the bathroom and letting out a quiet chuckle. 

My heart racing as if I was on speed, I jumped out of bed and put my clothes back on and turned out the light. Embarrassed, ashamed, mortified and now feeling sick, I crawled into bed and lay staring at the ceiling until the wee hours of the morning. After having fallen asleep for what seemed like five minutes, the dreaded buzz of the alarm went off. It was a project to pull myself out of bed, but I managed and dragged my tired body to the shower. I had just finished shaving when I heard the alarm sound in Brayden's room. I hurriedly finished my shower in a vain attempt to get out of the bathroom before I had to endure another awkward situation. I just wanted to get out to the barn, do my chores and get on the trail early. As I finished wrapping my hair in a towel the bathroom door opened. I looked away quickly and ran out before a word could be spoken. I donned my bikini, covered with jeans and a tee-shirt, slipped on my boots and I grabbed a backpack. I placed in it a clean towel, a windbreaker and my hair brush, leaving enough room to pack a bagged lunch. I ran downstairs to the kitchen where my mother had already finished cooking breakfast. Our entire family rose early to take care of the animals and get ready for the day. 

"Mornin' hon," my mother said as I slid into a chair at the table. "I've got some eggs and bacon all ready for you."

"Thank you, momma," I replied. "Say, would you mind making me a bagged lunch, momma? I'm gonna take Patches on a trail ride today." My mother smiled knowingly.

"I knew you'd say that, so I made one already. It's in the ice box, bagged up and ready to go. There's a small cooler of water too."

"Say, Piper," cooed Brayden unexpectedly from behind, "that sounds like a great idea. I've only been on a few of the trails back there, but I'm not too keen on going by myself. All sorts of things can happen when you go alone. Best to go with at least one other person so's to make sure things stay safe and under control." 

"I'll keep that in mind for next time," I growled. 

"Piper, why don't you take Brayden along with you after the two of you finish work this morning? Brayden, I'll fix you a bagged lunch so you don't go hungry."

"Momma, really, I think I'll be fi-"

"That sounds like a grand idea, Mrs. Whitman! I sure would appreciate that lunch, too. I'd love to go, that is, as long as Piper doesn't mind."

"Well, actually I-"

"Of course she doesn't mind, do you Piper?"

"Actually-"

"Of course you don't, honey. Let me get to fixin' you some lunch, Brayden. Is turkey okay?"

"Well, turkey would be just swell, Mrs. Whitman. Thank you kindly."

#

I walked quickly out to the barn, Brayden keeping pace. I made no eye contact and focused only on the stable ahead of me. I set my bag down in the tack room once I got there and grabbed Patches' saddle. 

"Who should I take?" he asked me. 

"Cobalt."

"All right then. I'll get him tacked up and then I'll meet you outside."

Within five minutes we were both ready to go. I grabbed my backpack and mounted Patches and Brayden scrambled atop Cobalt with his. We walked for about two and a half hours on horseback in complete silence. Winding through the woods and rolling foothills, all that was heard was the footsteps of the horses and the incessant chirping of the birds in the trees. As we broke from the trees into an open meadow, I urged Patches into a lope. We cantered easily along toward the trees on the other side and Brayden joined me. He nudged Cobalt into a full-fledged gallop across the field but, not to be outdone, I spurred Patches as well. A competitive horse by nature, she sprinted past Cobalt and to the other side with 

ease. I slowly brought her to a walk before we entered the forest on the other side.

"Are we going anywhere in particular?" Brayden asked as he caught up to me.

"Creek."

"Ah, I see. It'll be a nice place to relax for a bit. I bet Patches and Cobalt will enjoy a nice drink and time in the shade. It's gettin' awful hot out here." 

"Yep." 

It was silent again until we reached the creek bed set out behind the grove of trees through which we were riding. We untacked our horses and slipped halters on them and tied them out on a couple of trees by the water, leaving the saddles and bridles hanging on stray branches. Finding a sunny spot, I opened my bag and spread my towel on the grass. Brayden opened a blanket up and spread it next to my towel. Shedding my clothing, I lay back on the towel in my bikini determined to get back my olive complexion. Out of the corner of my eye I watched him strip down into just the shorts he wore on the trip and sit Indian-style on the blanket. The sound of the cool creek water passing by helped make the bucolic setting even more beautiful. As I closed my eyes, preparing for a few hours of relaxation, Brayden opened his mouth.

"Piper, what've you got against me? Seems like I can't do anything right by you. Why, you'd think I wouldn't be able to pour pee outta boot if the instructions were written on the heel by the way you've been treatin' me. I was just kiddin' with you yesterday when you first came to the barn. I'm real sorry that I offended you the way I did. I was just tryin' you out, seein' what you were like. Didn't think you were gonna get so angry 'bout it. I'm real sorry about bargin' in on you last night, too. I thought maybe you had gotten hurt. Didn't mean to walk in on you doin' whatever. I'm tryin' awful hard to be nice, but you just don't seem to like me." 

The question caught me completely off guard. I had never had anyone be so blunt as to just ask me why I didn't take to them quite the way they had expected. Then again, I had never had a near complete stranger ever walk in on me while I was bare naked getting off. 

"I never said I didn't like you," I told him. "It's just that you've kinda gotten under my skin since you've been here. I mean, aside from meeting you yesterday afternoon, last night was enough to make anyone a bit peeved. You laughin' about it didn't help matters much either."

"I wasn't laughin' at you," Brayden explained. "I was just as embarrassed as you were."

"I'd like to bet against that one," I muttered.

"It's nothin' to be ashamed of, Piper, just about everyone's done it at sometime in their lives. Just not everyone has gotten caught." He grinned at me as he finished his sentence, and even I had to smile at that. "See, it's not so bad. It's just part of human nature." I was amazed that he was comfortable being so candid with the situation, but I was also relieved.

"So you do it too, then?" I asked half jokingly with a grin.

"'Course I do!" he exclaimed as it were an obvious fact. "Shoot, it's better 'an a sleepin' pill sometimes. Works wonders!" I burst out laughing, partially from entertainment but mostly from the fact that it was an embarrassing topic that we were discussing. "I promise I'll try and keep mine quiet this summer," he winked, "but it has to be mutual!" He held out his hand. I shook it and laughed. 

"You, sir, got yourself a deal!"

"Good. Now, it's hotter 'an Hades out here. What do you say we take a dip?"

"Oh, I really want to tan right now. We'll go swimming later."

"All right," he agreed. I lay my head back down and closed my eyes, ready to soak up the luscious sun. Suddenly I felt myself being lifted off the ground into his arms. "It's later," he commented. "Time for a swim!" I held tightly to his neck, screaming in protest so he wouldn't drop me into the cold water. 

"Don't drop me! Don't drop me!" I cautioned wildly. Coolly he waded into the rocky creek bed and held me just above the surface. 

"I wouldn't drop you!" he laughed. "I will, however, dunk you under." With that, he splashed into the cold water with me still in his arms. I stood up sputtering and coughing, water having found its way up my nose and into my lungs. He stood up behind me as I wiped my face and eyes and pulled me to him. "Now that wasn't so bad, was it?" he laughed softly in my ear. I maneuvered myself around in his tight hold to look him in the eye. 

"You are so done," I said mischievously. Quickly I snaked my arms up and over his head and pulled him down under the water with me. I held him under until he tickled me to the point where I let go. "Hey!" I protested as we surfaced. "You only got out of my hold due to illegal touching!"

"Illegal touching?! I'll show you illegal touching!" With that he growled and leapt for me. I squealed like a little girl and began to swim away from him. He quickly caught up to me, however, grabbing my feet and pulling me in toward him. I tried to shield myself from his tickling by curling up into the fetal position, but his being so much larger than me made it easy for him to get his way. 

"All right, all right!" I cried out with laughter. "I give up! I surrender!" I put both of my hands in the air as a sign of defeat. 

"Since you surrendered, you may only do so on my terms. All of my stable chores are yours for the next week!"

"What?! No way! If that's the case, then I don't surrender!"

"Okay, okay. Let's see. How about you're my personal servant for the rest of the day."

"That depends," I countered, "what would my duties include?" 

"Feedin' me grapes while I lounge in a gold chaise lounge chair, fanning me with extra-large palm fronds and, of course, tackin' up Cobalt before we go back home."

"I bet we could fit an entire bunch in these cheeks," I said pinching his cheek as if he were a young boy. "I think I can handle those duties." 

"Good. Now let's get out and sun-dry. It's gettin' a tad bit chilly in this brook." We waded over to the grassy bank, Brayden hoisted himself out of the water and turned around to give me a helping hand. I took it gratefully and scrambled up onto the grass. I checked my watch that I had left sitting atop my jeans as I sat on my towel. It was already 10, nearly lunchtime for us. Having been up for five hours made the morning hour midday. I rummaged through my backpack to get my lunch sack out so I could have a small snack before lunch. I sifted through crackers, an apple, a turkey sandwich, cookies, a small Tupperware cup filled with peanut butter and celery sticks before I found what I was looking for: a ziplock bag filled with grapes. I grinned and looked at Brayden out of the corner of my eye. He was already laying down on his back, sunning himself dry. Quietly I opened the bag and removed the bunch. I scooted over next to him and bent down by his ear.

"I don't have the chaise lounge or a palm frond, but I do have the grapes," I giggled in a whisper. Immediately he opened his eyes and looked at me with a grin.

"I was just jokin' with you on that one, Piper," he said. "I wasn't serious when I said you had to feed me grapes."

"Uh-uh-uh," I sang coyly. "They'll just go to waste otherwise. Open wide." He laughed and sat up, opening his mouth for me. His lips looked soft and full, his tongue patiently awaiting the juicy sweet treat. I slipped him one grape at a time, feeding him delicately and slowly. He looked as though he savored every bite I gave him, taking his time with each one. I lingered as I slipped the last one in, letting my index finger rest gingerly on his bottom lip as he closed his mouth. I traced a line from the middle of his lips to his chin, watching him intently, hungrily as I did so. His dark eyes locked on mine as he swallowed. You're beautiful, I thought. You're amazingly beautiful. I would give anything to touch my lips to yours. Oh, Lord how "I want to kiss you." I froze, realizing that I had verbalized my thought. He blinked and tightened up. I could feel the blood rushing to my face, nauseating me in the process. "I-I-I'm sorry," I stammered standing up, looking for some refuge from my big mouth. "I didn't mean, what I'm trying to say is, I wasn't trying to say that. It just sort of slipped out." Brayden stood up in front of me and smiled.

"Do you really want to kiss me, Piper?" he asked looking in my eyes.

"No, I mean yes! I mean well, no, not really. I mean, it's not like you want to or anything." 

"But what if I did?"

"Well, then I suppose it'd be all ri-" 

With that, Brayden cupped my face gently in his strong hands and touched his soft, supple lips to mine. My eyelids fluttered closed as our lips stayed resting on one another's, savoring the moment. As what seemed like eons but was just a few seconds passed, he disengaged from the kiss. I looked at him longingly, feeling as though my knees might give out.

"You didn't have to do that, you know," I said quietly, the color in my cheeks intensifying.

"I know that," he replied with a grin. "I wanted to do that. I just wasn't so sure that you did. I was gon' kiss you one way or the other before the end of this summer. I was just glad it was sooner rather than later." 

I wrapped my arms around his neck and kissed him again, only this time hungrily, greedily. I wanted him and I wanted to show him that. He responded in kind and mashed his lips against mine. Our tongues met, tangling, tantalizing, teasing one another. He brought his hands to my lower back, holding me to him timidly but his lips working expertly. Hormones surged through my body. I wanted him like no other and ground myself into his body, forcing him to grasp me tighter. I slid my hands from his neck to his torso, stroking his still slightly damp skin. I found the top of his shorts and wedged my fingers into the sides of them, bringing one hand to his front quickly, grasping his growing bulge. 

"Whoa, whoa, whoa!" he exclaimed as he broke the kiss. He grabbed my wrists and attempted to pull my hands from his shorts.

"I know, cold hands," I grinned leaning in to kiss him again.

"Piper, stop it!" he freaked, stepping back from me.

"What?!" I asked bewildered.

"What were you doing? Just what did you think was gonna happen here?" Brayden demanded.

"I didn't realize I was doing anything wrong!" I shot back defensively. "And judging from that lump in the front of your shorts, there, it doesn't look like you thought so either!"

"Jesus Christ, Piper! That was the result of you stickin' your hands where they shouldn'ta been! Doesn't mean that just 'cause you stick your hands down someone's shorts they automatically wanna have sex with ya! What the hell were you thinkin'?!" 

I was incensed by his words but even more so that I had made a fool out of myself once again. He was going to think that I was nothing but a whore by the way I had acted over the last two days. What was I thinking?! I had known him for two days and I was already trying to do sexual things to/with him. I was still a virgin. Was I really going to give it up right then and there? Despite my anger and humiliation, I couldn't even muster up a defense for my actions. I muttered something about checking on my horse and walked away as Brayden quickly went back into the creek to cool off, literally and figuratively. I tacked Patches up and went back to collect my belongings. I stuffed my backpack and once I was ready to head out I looked down at the creek. Brayden stood with his back to me, his hands folded behind his neck, his face pointed at the surface of the running water. Suddenly hot tears stung my eyes and my jaw began to tremble. I quickly returned to my horse, mounted and left. I nudged Patches at a trot through the woods and as we broke into the open field I spurred her into a full-out gallop. The tears of humiliation streamed down my cheek, mixed with tears of the wind I faced as we ran. The trip that had taken me two and a half hours on the way out took me an hour and a half on the way back. I untacked Patches, who was tired and sweaty by the time we arrived and gave her a thorough brushing and hose-down. I gave her extra treats along with her dinner as I rushed to feed the rest of the horses before returning to the house. As I wound up the hose from watering the last horse, I spied Brayden cantering in from the trails on Cobalt. I picked up my backpack from the tack room and quickly exited the barn, speed walking toward the house. Instead of entering the backside of the barn as he should have, Brayden rode around to the front and stopped in front of me. I kept my eyes staring at the dusty red clay. I was afraid he would notice the salty water forming once again in them should I look up. 

"Piper, listen," he began with an apologetic tone.

"You don't need to say anything," I told him shakily. "You said everything you needed to say back at the creek." I continued to walk toward the house with downcast eyes. 

"No I didn't," he replied sternly. "There's definitely more."

"Not as far as I'm concerned. Now please, I've left you alone. I'd hope you'd afford me the same courtesy." I looked up at him as I said the last sentence with tear filled eyes. His mouth went slightly agape, as if he were attempting a reply but the words got hung up behind his lips. It only took me a few more seconds to reach the house. No one was home yet, as it was only two in the afternoon. I knew it would take Brayden at least fifteen minutes to untack and brush Cobalt and then return to the house, so I jumped in the shower and felt sorry for myself and let my humiliation due to rejection take over me for that time. After I finished crying, I toweled off and put on shorts and a tank top and slipped under my covers. After getting no sleep the night before and having a stressful day, all I wanted to do was sleep away my embarrassment and pain.




Wish Upon A Star



#

"Sweetheart? Do you want to eat dinner?" my mother asked peeking her head into my room. Groggily I lifted my tired head from my pillow and turned to face her. 

"Yes, momma. I'll be down in a few minutes." 

"Baby," she said sweetly coming into my room and sitting down on my bed next to me. "What's wrong? You never nap in the middle of the day."

"Nothin' momma, just a long day's all," I lied. "Didn't sleep a wink last night. Not used to my old bed yet." She smiled and gently stroked my damp hair. 

"Well, when you wanna talk about 'nothin'', you let me know. I'm here." 

"Thanks momma," I said with a smile and a yawn. She rose and walked out the door, leaving me to put on some clothes to make myself decent before going down to dinner. It was dark in my room, I noticed, as I rose to find some pants and a tee-shirt. It was only seven and the sun was out until after 8:30 on the late spring nights. I peered outside from behind my curtains and noticed the drizzle steadily quenching the parched earth. I slipped on a pair of flannel pants and a tee-shirt I had laying around and went downstairs. Before me stood the same picture that I had seen the night before, only with a different spread of food before us. I said nothing to anyone as I sat down to the table and I ate my meal in silence. No one prodded as to why I was in such a somber mood, and I was grateful for it. Everyone cleared their plates and my mother looked at me as she asked whose turn it was to do the dishes. I raised my hand without quarrel I took my place at the sink as they filed out of the kitchen. I ran the warm water and opened the dishwasher in preparation, soaping up a sponge in the process. As I began cleaning a plate over the sink a clap of thunder interrupted me. Shaking our house, the noise was enough to scare me into dropping the plate on the tile floor. It broke into tiny pieces and scattered over the same-shade white floor. I hated summer thunderstorms because they always brought with them the chance of a tornado and the last thing I wanted was to suffer through another home wrecking storm as I had so many years before. I turned to grab the dustpan and brush from the corner, staring at Brayden holding them out to me, smiling. I wordlessly took them and began sweeping up the shattered pieces of the dinner plate. 

"I've done enough wrong today," I uttered. "I don't need you here to rub anymore in my face."

"Piper, about today," he began.

"Forget about it. I don't know what came over me. I'm sorry. Let's move on with our lives."

"But Piper--"

"I don't want to talk about this with you," I told him sternly.

"Piper--"

"Please," I pleaded tearfully, "leave me be. Go on. I don't need your help." The thunder roared again as I instinctively flinched while sweeping.

"These storms really get to you, huh?" 

"I don't need you around to witness any more of my flaws. Please go." 

Finally he did as I asked him and he went upstairs. I finished cleaning the broken glass and washing the dishes before I went upstairs to lay in my bed. It was barely past eight, but I put my shorts and tank top back on and turned off my light. Curled into the fetal position with my eyes clamped shut, I pulled my blankets to my face and tried to block out the roaring storm that raged outside my windows. 

#

I wasn't sure how long I had been asleep when I heard the open and close of the door and someone creep in. As they sat down, I felt a hand reach out and stroke my hair.

"Oh momma," I said tearfully, droplets escaping through closed eyes, "I did somethin' real dumb today. I know I shouldn't be gettin' involved with Brayden seein' as how he works for us and all, but I couldn't help it, momma! I couldn't help it. I practically forced myself on him and made a fool of myself. Now, I don't know what to say to him. I feel so foolish I could just die. That's how I feel right now, like fallin' asleep here and never wakin' up again. Least not 'til he's gone home. Oh, I feel so stupid. He probably hates me now, thinks I'm some kind of floozy. But I've never been with anyone, momma. Honest. He's been tryin' to talk to me since we got back from the trail today. Lord only knows what he's been tryin' to tell me. Probably to tell me what I fool I was today. As if I didn't already know."

"I think he was trying to apologize to you for the harsh way he reacted," a smooth male voice said. I opened my eyes and turned over to face who I thought was my mother. "And he doesn't hate you," Brayden reassured me, continuing to stroke my cheek. "I was actually under the distinct impression that he was beginnin' to fancy you somethin' fierce. He was just a little startled by the suddenness of the whole situation's all. But I'm pretty sure he wants to patch things up, if you're willing to." 

In the darkened room my hand found its way to his shadowed face, stroking it in the same fashion he touched mine. He found the stray tears that lingered on my cheeks and wiped them away, kissing the areas from which he took them. It didn't take long for him to find my mouth after, planting an innocent kiss upon it. He sat up slowly and looked down at me. 

"I suppose I should go back to my room, huh?" It was more of a statement than a question. The thunder shook the house, the lightning brightened the sky momentarily and the wind howled through the screens of my windows. I grasped his hand tightly as I found my voice.

"Don't go," I pleaded. "I hate these storms. You can even go back to your room after I fall asleep if you want. Please, just stay 'til then." Without hesitation he stroked my cheek and slid into bed under the covers next to me, clad only in a pair of mesh shorts. I moved closer to the wall to give him more room. He pulled his body behind mine into a spooning position. He wrapped his arm about my waist and snuggled in, his downy breath cascading past the nape of my neck. The thunderclap again roared and the lightning lit up the sky. I shook with habitual terror and shrunk my body. 

"Shhhhh, Piper," he whispered in my ear, kissing my lobe. "I'm here. I'm here." He continued to kiss my ear and neck to calm my nerves and take my mind off the storm at hand. "See? It's not so bad." 

I breathed out sharply, letting a slight moan escape as his soft words floated into my ears. He stroked my stomach through the tank top, moving his kisses from the back of my neck down toward my shoulder. Breathing softly against my skin, Brayden reached up and moved the strap off to the side, letting it rest on my upper arm. His lips traveled sweetly over my exposed flesh, giving me goosebumps. His hand moved from my arm to the top of my chest, fingering the hollow of my throat and collarbone. My breathing quickened slightly as his lips and fingers expertly tantalized my skin. I put my hand over his and lifted it from my chest. I turned over to face him before I put it back. Brayden leaned in and took my bottom lip into his kiss, sucking on it gently. I closed my eyes and let the feelings take over me. I brought my hand up to his arm and stroked it softly, my fingertips tracing over the soft skin. He matched me move-for-move, letting his hand linger on my arm. I moved my hands to his chest and I felt him begin to do the same. He removed the thin fabric from my breasts and broke the kiss. I felt his soft breath on my nipples as his mouth drew closer. His tongue reached out to touch them, sending an electric jolt through my entire body. The night sky seemed to have felt it as well, brightening with a bolt of lightning. My eyes shot open as I arched my back and reached out for Brayden. I looked in front of me, my heart beating out of my chest. There was no one there. My only company was the sound of the rain pouring outside. I sat up and looked around, not trusting my eyes. I looked over at the clock; it was 10:56. My heart sank. I had been dreaming. 

Suddenly, a flood of emotions overwhelmed me and the unstoppable tears took over. I wept quietly, not exactly sure why it was I was crying. I no longer cared about the storm outside because it ceased to exist. The falling tears became choked sobs, muffled by my pillow. A light knock came at the door. It was nearly 11, and everyone was supposed to be asleep by that time. I wiped the tears away hurriedly and sat up. 

"Come in," I called softly. The door connecting to the bathroom crept open and Brayden stepped out far enough to see me. He stood before me only in a pair of boxers. "What are you doing up?"

"I came to ask you the same question," he replied in a near whisper, still clinging onto the doorknob with one hand. "Call of nature in the middle of the night, I was in the bathroom and I heard you. You okay?" I could feel my bottom lip trembling, attempting to betray me.

"I'm fine," I said shakily, trying to regain my composure. "Go on back to bed."

"To be honest, Piper," he began, rubbing the back of his neck, "I can't sleep. Not without sayin' some stuff I need to say."

"I really don't think now's a very good time," I told him, the tears reentering my voice. I could feel my eyes getting hot and the salty water beginning to fall.

"Piper, don't cry," he pleaded. He walked over to my bed and sat down, taking me into his arms. "I didn't mean to make you cry. I just wanted to come in and apologize for earlier." The mention of the day's earlier events, and the thought of my rejection, brought on another wave of tears. I tried my best to hold them back as he continued speaking to me. "I shouldn't have been so mean earlier, it's just that you, you took me by surprise -- you know? I wasn't expecting you to come on so strong."

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry," I told him through tears.

"No, it's okay."

"No," I replied, pulling away from him, "it's not okay. Now that I think about it, mixing work and personal lives isn't a good idea. I was stupid for saying anything at all today. If I hadn't said anything, we wouldn't even have this problem now."

"It's not a problem," he whispered, wiping away a tear. "And even if you hadn't said anything today, I would have eventually. I mean, Piper, you've got beauty that even Aphrodite herself would be jealous of. And I really think that under your rough exterior, you're a nice, sweet girl. I wasn't tryin' to reject you today. I was just a little off-guard, you know? I mean, I hate talkin' like this 'cause it makes me sound like a chick, not that there's anything wrong with that, but I really don't want to let impulses take over me. If I do anything with any girl, it's gonna be 'cause I care about her. I mean, it can't just be 'cause I'm thinkin' with my other head."

"I've never let impulses take over me like they did today," I told him. "I've never even gone all the way. I don't know what came over me." There's just something about you. He seemed to tense up when I told him that. 

"You're a..." he let the sentence trail off.

"A virgin," I said, completing the sentence for him. "Yes, I'm still a virgin. Why's that so hard to believe?"

"Well, I'd just heard about you and your boyfriend and everything, and I just assumed, you know. I mean, you two dated all through high school, right? What was his name, Paul?"

"No, just senior year and up until this past February," I told him. 

"That's nearly a year and a half. And you two never..."

"No. We didn't. I mean, we almost did, but I didn't want to go through with it."

"You almost did?" he asked. 

"Yes," I said, blushing in the dark. "We came real close."

"How close?" Brayden asked softly. "Like, you two had talked about it?" My embarrassment seemed to vanish as he asked more personal questions. His hand was on my blanketed thigh, unmoving.

"Oh, we had talked about it. But that's not what I meant." I sat quietly for a second to see if he wanted to hear more. I felt his hand move slightly on my thigh.

"What did you mean?"

"Well, we were at my dorm. He came up from Pepperdine to be with me on Valentine's Day. I know, I know, cheesy to lose your virginity on Valentine's Day, but it seemed sweet at the time. Well, anyway, Becca was back home visiting her boyfriend, so I didn't have to worry about her coming in or anything. So, we lit candles, he put on some tacky jazz CD that was all some guy playing love songs on a saxophone and we climbed into bed. I bought a little teddy to wear for him so I was layin' there in it--"

"What color?" he asked with an almost boyish quality, enraptured by my tale. I smiled mischievously as his hand tightened slightly on my leg.

"Light blue. Lacy at the top with a satin bottom. Anyway, I was layin' there, and we started kissin'." I paused, looking for the courage to say what I felt. "Paul's an all right kisser, but he's definitely not up to my standards of 'great'."

"How do I rate?" Brayden asked. I swallowed hard, putting my hand on his.

"You are the standard," I told him with downcast eyes. "But anyway, I'm gettin' away from the story. We were kissin', and he started to take off my teddy. Wasn't even sweet about it," I recalled sourly. "Just pawin' at me like I was a slab of meat in a piece of paper and he was a hungry dog. He pulled it off me and threw it to the floor and he tore off his boxers. Then he just wanted to get to it. I wasn't even in the mood yet. I asked him to touch me a lil' more, get me hot for him, you know? So he just reached down between my legs and started rubbin' me with his whole hand like he was waxin' a car. He had the nerve to ask 'are you in the mood now?'" I frowned. "I lied and told him yes, 'cause I just wanted to do it, you know? I thought it would make us closer. Hoo-boy was I wrong."

"So, is that as close as you got?"

"No. It got a lot closer. See, he wasn't doin' a very good job of turnin' me on. Now that I'm thinkin' back on it, I guess he was never really good at it to begin with."

"He'd touched you before?"

"Yes," I admitted. "We'd been doin' stuff for about a year. Come to think of it, he never did make me...uh...you know."

"You never had an orgasm?" he asked. "But what about last night?" I blushed again, but no one could tell because it was so dark in the room. 

"I didn't say that I'd never had one, just that he'd never given me one. I tried to show him what I liked, but he just couldn't get it, I suppose. His hands just weren't good enough."

"What about his mouth?"

"What about it?"

"Did he ever use his mouth on you?"

"No," I sighed. "I was always too embarrassed to ask him to. I thought that if I did it to him, he'd reciprocate. You know, like lead by example. Guess it didn't work. But I got used to it, so it came as no real surprise that night when we were gettin' ready to have sex. After I told him I was 'in the mood' he asked me to do the same to him, so I did. Then he pulled out the condom-"

"Wait, what did you do to him?" Brayden asked.

"Well, I, uh...you know. Stuff."

"What kind of stuff?"

"W-well," I stammered, trying to find my voice, "first I had him lay down on his back. He was already naked so I crawled on top of him and kissed his neck. I ran my hands over his chest and down his sides. He just lay there as I moved my lips down. Over his collarbone, to his chest, kissing, licking, nibbling his flesh." I began to get more into my story, recalling every detail vividly. I shut my eyes and continued telling it, speaking more confidently as I went along. "I remember I took his nipple into my mouth. They were small -- compared to mine, anyway -- but they were hard. I used the tip of my tongue afterwards, and blew cool air on them. He liked that. My hands went to his shoulders, massaging them slowly as I kissed further down." I crossed my arms and massaged my own shoulders gently. "I traced little circles around his bellybutton with my tongue, kissing and nibbling with my lips every now and then. I lay my entire body between his legs, caressing his sides, tracing my fingertips up and down his torso. I blew on the lower part of stomach, the part between his hipbones, trying to tease him and make him feel good. I think it worked 'cause I could feel him getting harder between my breasts." I ran a finger over the fabric of my tank top and down between my breasts. "It wasn't very big -- I could wrap my whole hand around it easy -- but it was a little longer than I expected. I moved down just a little bit further and I grasped him in my hand. It was so hard. I slowly moved my hand up and down, bringing my mouth to the head to lick it. There was pre-cum on the tip. I was used to that though. It was salty. As I pumped my hand along his shaft, I put him in my mouth. I wrapped my lips over the top and sucked on it. I circled my tongue around and around the top, and I started moving my mouth up and down. I kept my thumb and index finger around his cock, following the motions of my mouth up and down. He started moanin' real loud, tightenin' up, wrappin' his fingers in my hair, so I backed off. I knew he was gonna cum. I took my lips off him, and lowered my head, letting my tongue run over his balls, then returning to the head of his cock, kissing it lightly. I thought he was fixin' to die right there. I sat up and ran my hands over his thighs and up to his chest. I asked him if he was ready, and he told me yes. I reached over to my dresser and pulled out a condom. I unrolled it over his hardness. Then I lay on my back and pulled him on top of me. I still wasn't wet enough to be ready, so I asked him again to help me get in the mood." I reached down a little further, placing one hand between my thighs on top of my shorts. I let the other hand linger atop my breast. "I reached down and put my finger between my lips and started to stroke my lips and then my clit, showing him how I liked it. Instead he said it looked like I already was in the mood, so he just kissed me and climbed between my legs. He put the head of his cock against me and pushed in." I breathed out and opened my eyes. "It hurt...a lot. After the third time he pushed in, I made him stop. It wasn't right. It just didn't feel right, you know? He got mad, which made me mad, so we just both got dressed. I went and slept next door at my friend Julie's room. Paul left the next day, we broke up on the phone and I haven't talked to him since."

"I'm sorry," Brayden managed to say quietly.

"I'm not," I told him. "Any guy who was gonna act that way to his girlfriend doesn't deserve to have one."

"I'm not sorry you lost him," he said stroking my cheek. "I'm sorry he did that to you. You're too good for that, Piper. I'd never do that to you." Continuing on a streak of boldness, I let my thoughts flow freely to my lips.

"What would you do to me, Brayden?" I asked softly.

"Piper, I don't think that I --"

"You don't have to do anything, Brayden," I uttered. "I'm sorry, I keep saying these stupid things. Forget I said anything." I sat up and pulled the sheets to my chest, feeling the awful pangs of rejection welling up within me.

"No Piper," he said, cupping my face within his hands, touching his forehead on mine, "I was going to say that I don't think I can stop once I start. I just wanted to give you fair warnin' beforehand." I smiled and touched my lips to his. 

"I think I'm okay with that," I whispered against his mouth. He laughed and lay me back on my bed. 

"First, I'd kiss those pretty lips of yours, real soft like," he whispered, leaning in for a kiss. He stroked my hair as his lips moved against mine. The tip of his tongue pleaded for entry into my mouth. It was soft, pliant, his mouth warm. His fingers were like magic on my skin, his lips like a beautiful fire. "Then I'd kiss your neck and nibble on your earlobes," he said softly, breaking the kiss. Brayden lowered his head to the spot just behind my ear, nipping at it with his lips, kissing and licking it gently. My toes curled as he did this, a spark igniting in my belly. He let his tongue trace a line from my ear to the hollow of my throat. He kissed a path across my collarbone and back up to the other ear. Brayden suckled on the tip of my earlobe, caressing my arms as he did so. He made his way across my jaw line and back up to my mouth.