Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/8069092.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      F/M
  Fandom:
      Tom_Hiddleston_-_Fandom, British_Actor_RPF
  Relationship:
      Tom_Hiddleston/Original_Female_Character(s), Tom_Hiddleston/Original
      Female_Character(s)_of_Color, Tom_Hiddleston_&_Original_Female_Character
      (s), Tom_Hiddleston_&_Original_Female_Character(s)_of_Color
  Character:
      Tom_Hiddleston, AU_Tom_Hiddleston, Tom_Hiddleston_AU_-_Character, Red
      Nose_Day_Tom, Red_Nose_Day_Tom_Hiddleston, RND!Tom, Eddie_Redmayne, AU
      Eddie_Redmayne, Eddie_Redmayne_AU, OFC_Carmen_DiGregorio
  Additional Tags:
      School_Dance, Boarding_School, Teenagers, Flirting, Angst, Snogging,
      Making_Out, Second_Base, third_base, Fingering, Vaginal_Fingering, Hand
      Job, Underage_Drinking
  Series:
      Part 45 of The_Red_Nose_Diaries
  Stats:
      Published: 2016-09-18 Words: 7329
****** The Secret Diary of Thomas William Hiddleston, Aged 15 and 3/4 ******
by missdibley
Summary
     An teenage AU of Red Nose Day Tom. American exchange student Enid
     befriends a shy, somewhat unsure Tom at a school organized for
     students at their respective boarding schools.
Notes
     I don’t know if Eton actually has dances like the one I describe
     which, if I’m being honest, is more like the dances I went to when I
     was a teenager.
     The age of consent in the UK is 16 so while Carmen is of age and Tom
     is only two years younger than she is, Tom is not. Proceed at your
     own safety and comfort.
     October 16: renamed the fic
See the end of the work for more notes
*** Carmen ***
I had to wait for Mary to fall asleep.
That’s why I didn’t write until now.
I know I usually write before I go to bed but we only just got back an hour ago
and then it was lights out. Plus I had to listen to Mary babble about the red
headed boy with the vodka before she fell asleep so I could write in private.
When she told me she doesn’t read other people’s diaries like some girls on our
hall do, at the beginning of Michaelmas Term (why do they say it “mickel” like
“nickel” instead of like “Mike-ul”?),  I believed her. Even if she continued to
insist the vodka that Eddie gave us was the best she’d ever had.
Anyway, I had to wait for lights out, then for Mary to konk out. My legs had to
stop shaking and my breath had to slow down.
For once I’m glad we’re not allowed to shower at night (is it unsafe? is the
shower block is haunted?) because I want to stay smelling like this until
morning.
Drakkar Noir. Fruit punch. Cigarettes. Vodka. Sweat.
I want to smell like Thomas William Hiddleston forever.
*** Tom ***
Jesus those girls from Halpert can kiss.
*** Carmen ***
Tonight we went to a dance at Eton. Mary and the other girls have said dances
aren’t a usual thing here at Halpert or at Eton, but the schools have been more
open to them ever since they started accepting exchange students from America.
So if there’s anybody I should blame or thank for what happened tonight, it’s
probably the girls from my school back home.
Sluts. Just kidding.
It almost didn’t happen because of the dates. We were gonna do it next week but
there’s some weird football (or is it rugby?) game that they’ve_had_at_Eton_for
a_thousand_years and they didn’t want all that and a dance on the same day.
*** Tom ***
Wall game is next week and we’ve been practicing practically since the start of
term but first they want us to host a party?
Maybe hosting is too strong a word. The house masters said we had to look smart
and act like gentlemen, look after the girls. Of course, some of the others
said behaving ourselves and making sure our female guests had a good time might
be at cross-purposes. Just taking the piss but they were reprimanded just the
same. Cretins.
When I heard the girls were coming from Halpert I was just shitting myself.
What if she came back? Belinda. Would she try to humiliate me again? Lie to
everybody about us trying to get off in the games cupboard? Tell everybody I
was a kid? She was pissed because I was younger, 15 to her 16 about to turn 17.
Like she was supposed to be mature. She may be fit but she’s a slag (sorry
Mum).
Sarah says the girl shouldn’t be older than the boy, not at our age anyway. She
thinks she knows everything just because she’s 17 and off to uni next year.
*** Carmen ***
The other girls were still fussing with their outfits and their hair right
until we got off the manky old bus when it pulled up at Eton. Primping or
kissing up to Belinda Allison-Benson because she said her jeans were from
Gucci. They may be designer but she wasted her money because her ass still
looks flat in them. At least they hide her cankles.
Mary said I should have borrowed something off her. Maybe I should have but I
liked my outfit — the uniform skirt from my old school back in Chicago with an
old White Sox t-shirt that rides up a little. I have a gut which I usually hide
with my punk belt but that’s at home, so I just pull my skirt up instead. I
tried to explain how alternative girls look in the States — really tuff, with
tons of eyeliner and brown lipstick and eyebrows like Kate Moss or Gwen Stefani
— but Mary refused to believe me.
I was going to wear my vintage dress from junior prom last spring but then I
remembered it still had some of Freddie’s STUFF on it from when he dry humped
me in the limo after. I mean, I could scrape it off if I really wanted to
because it’s dried up now. But EW.
Me and the other Americans — there’s just me from Chicago, but also a couple of
girls from New York (who are super nice) and this one girl from Boston who’s
stuck up — we’re going home in a few weeks. I haven’t been to Eton since I’ve
been at Halpert, and this was pretty much my only chance to meet boys. I know
Prince William goes there, he might even be at the dance. I guess he’s supposed
to be cute but his teeth are kinda big. They make him look like a horse.
I supposedly already have a boyfriend. Stupid Freddie. I should break up with
him when I get back home. But maybe not until after New Year’s Eve so I have a
date.
*** Tom ***
Belinda was the first girl in the room. She had that look on her face, like she
just smelled a big poo. I thought at first it was her being posh but that’s
just her face. She stood there, squinting at the lot of us until stupid Tim
Stevens, who is her year but half as thick as a load of bricks, stomped over
and began to chat her up. Once they started talking, her lot started fawning,
and then his boys joined. There’s no proper stereo in the game room, just a
turntable (somebody broke the CD player last week) and a stack of old records.
People started dancing anyway.
The Easter term party was nice. I was just starting to find my place. I started
rugby like Pa wanted and that helped me being so clumsy. I learned to not act
the prat in class, so no more snide remarks about brownnosing. I couldn’t do
anything about Mum cutting my hair right before term, but Sarah showed me how
to smile so my teeth didn’t show so much. I want braces but Pa says I don't
need them. I can’t wait to get them done properly. William — that William — is
in the year below and his teeth are good. I wish my hair was like his —
straight and thick.
The girls were alright. The same lot as last year. They all rolled their eyes
at me, I reckon, because of Belinda. When one of the chaperones put on
something old, real old like The Bee Gees, everybody yelled and did his cheeks
get red! He told us off for yelling and it wasn’t his fault the CD player was
ruined. Eddie Redmayne in the year below showed off his Nirvana CD’s stashed in
one pocket, and a flask of vodka in the other.
*** Carmen ***
Mary saw some dude with unruly red hair (they call them gingers here), wearing
a blazer (sport coat? jacket?) with saggy pockets. Standing across the room
with another guy. She elbowed me.
“I bet they’ve got something,” she murmured. “Are you feeling bold?”
I rolled my eyes at her. “Don’t be so coy, Mary. Come on.” I worked my way
across the room, dodging kids as they danced or pretended to dance (“The Alley
Cat”? Really!), going to stand a few feet away from the ginger. He had a friend
who sort of loomed over but I didn’t notice him. I only saw the flask.
“Hey!” Ginger and his friend looked at me like I was an alien.
“Erm, hullo.” Ginger’s eyes went all googly. “Can I help you?”
“Maybe,” I retorted. “Can I get some of whatever that is?” When Mary appeared
at my side, her bangs already sort of sweaty and stuck to her forehead, I
jerked my head at her. “My friend, too.”
*** Tom ***
Before I could check for teachers, make sure they didn’t see the flask, a girl
appeared right there. She was practically on top of Eddie, sort of pushing in
and grabbing at him. “Gimme that!” He gave up the flask, and she gave it to her
friend after she took a big drink.
Eddie and the friend sort of stared at each other weirdly, then she started
babbling about how she was already drunk and did we know about all the crazy
things vodka made her do. She was trying too hard — I would know — but Eddie
ate it up. They disappeared into the middle of the dance floor, where it was
extra thick with kids dancing, leaving me with the girl.
The girl didn’t seem to notice me. She leaned against the wall, so I did too.
She sort of bounced her bum against the wall, not quite in time to the music.
It was dark where we stood, as the old fashioned lights were only bright over
the center of the room. I couldn’t really see what she looked like. She was
Asian, Japanese maybe?, with curly hair that hung in her face. Her lipstick
looked like it was same color as her skin. Odd. Mum only wears pinks, and Sarah
thinks I don’t know about the bloody red she keeps hidden in the loo at home.
A new song came on. Not just any song but my song. Hot Chocolate. “You Sexy
Thing.” I know all the words, and I can always get a dance off someone if this
is playing. It’s usually a cousin at a family wedding or my gran when she’s had
an extra glass of port after supper. Last spring it was Belinda, when she let
me touch her over her sweater. Her tits were small but she wasn’t wearing a bra
so I felt her nipples, which were big and pointy. It was kind of weird but it
wasn’t bad. And then she kissed me, which wasn’t very good. Her tongue kept
darting in and out, like a snake. And the stuff she kept putting on her lips to
make them bigger — Lip Venom, the tube said — it just burned. Feeling her up
seemed a good way to distract her, get her to stop the bad kissing. And she
did, just long enough to ask me what year I was in.
*** Carmen ***
Mary and Ginger Eddie took the flask with them when they hit the dance floor
(assholes) leaving me with the friend. I just sort of stood there. He did too.
I leaned against the wall and sort of bounced against it. He did too. When I
looked up, he was sort of staring into space.
I looked at his face. It was nice, not too spotty. I noticed his cheeks. They
were round, baby fat, which is okay as I’m fat myself. But he wasn’t fat. He
was really skinny, actually. Sort of fidgeting, like he didn’t know what to do
with his hands. He sort of bopped his head to the song. When he happened to
turn, he caught me smirking at him. He froze. Did he think I was going to make
fun of him? Instead of cracking wise, waiting for the opportunity to be the
funny one, not the pretty one, I clasped my hands in front of me and held my
tongue.
*** Tom ***
I turned to her and said that “You Sexy Thing” was the best song to dance to,
if not the best song ever. She took a moment, looking at me kind of close. I
wished that Mum had let me keep my hair long like it was during summer so I
could hide.
She shook her head, smiling as she did. “No it’s not.”
“What?”
“You’re wrong about it being the best song. You’re just wrong.”
“How can my opinion be wrong?”
She shrugged, her tits kinda jiggling when she did. “It’s not even Hot
Chocolate’s best song, let alone the best song ever.”
“And I suppose you’re going to tell me what it is?”
“What kind of a friend would I be if I didn’t tell you?”
“But you’re not my friend.”
“No! Not yet, anyway.” She stuck her hand out. “Enid. But I’m changing it to
Carmen next year when I turn 18. So just call me that.”
“Okay, Enid.”
“No. It’s Carmen, and you’re still wrong.”
“What’s the song then? Hot Chocolate’s finest, I mean.”
“It’s ‘Heaven Is In The Backseat of My Cadillac’”.
Ridiculous! She was so wrong. She couldn’t be more wrong. I grinned like a
fool, ready to tell her off. But when I grinned, it wasn’t the careful way
Sarah showed me, but full on. Teeth and all bared. When I clapped my hand over
my mouth, Carmen tilted her head like I’ve seen dogs do when they’re trying to
understand something.
“What’s wrong? Are you alright?”
“No, it’s just…”
“OH HI ENID.”
Ugh.
*** Carmen ***
I liked him. He had an awful haircut, and his ears were kind of red at the
tops, but he seemed nice. Of course, just as I had him laughing, guess who
shows up but super bitch Belinda herself.
The boy and I turned to look at her when she announced herself, pointedly
tugging at the waist of her jeans so she could show off the label.
“Oh hiiiiiiiiiii Enid,” she said without looking at me. She sneered at him.
“Tom.”
“Huh, hey Belinda,” he said quietly. He looked, what was that word from LSAT
prep — cowed? He looked cowed.
And I didn’t like it. Not one bit.
“Has he done any of his stupid impressions for you?” Belinda rolled her eyes.
“Good trick for a child.”
“What are you talking about? Who’s a child?” I looked up at Tom. “I’m
seventeen. How old are you anyway?”
Tom’s cheeks flushed. “I’ll be sixteen in three months.”
Belinda’s eyes flashed. “Is it true? Tim Stevens says you still wet the bed.”
Tom’s mouth gaped in horror. “What?”
This was the wrong response as she actually smacked her overly glossed lips.
“Hiddle-piddle-diddle-widdle-in-the-middle-of-the-night!” Belinda actually
clapped with every single syllable, the sound attracting a few interested gazes
from other kids standing around us. “And now you can see his bunny teeth! It’s
the Easter bunny everybody!”
*** Tom ***
I hate her. I hate Belinda so much.
I wanted to punch her then run like hell. I knew I couldn’t, couldn’t do
anything, not even defend myself, but I didn’t know what to do.
Carmen took my hand and squeezed it. I was glad I remembered to get the dirt
out from under my nails after rugby when I washed up before the dance.
Hangnails were still awful, though. But she didn’t seem to notice or care.
“Really?” She addressed Belinda but smiled up at me. “What bunny teeth? They
look like regular person teeth to me. And besides.” She looked at Belinda like
she was the child. “Who doesn’t like the Easter bunny? I know I do.”
“Good for you.” Belinda crossed her arms over her flat chest.
“But what I don’t like,” Carmen said, “What I don’t like are mean, spoiled,
flat-chested bullies who think they’re posh when really they’re just stupid
enough to buy designer jeans that make their asses look flat.”
Belinda didn’t like that. She got this sour look on her face like Mum does when
I’ve made Emma cry from teasing.
“Stupid cow. Fat cow! At least I’m thin,” hissed Belinda.
Carmen’s bottom lip trembled, and her dark eyes got wide. She looked like she
was going to cry but instead she burst out laughing. She wiped tears from her
eyes, saying “Oh no! Are we being graded on how thin we are? Will that keep me
out of university? DO THEY EVEN ALLOW FAT PEOPLE IN ENGLAND?”
*** Carmen ***
Stupid Belinda.
I have been chubby for pretty much all my life. No matter where I end up for
college, I’ll be prepared because I’ve already gained my ‘freshman 15’ several
times over.
I am fat, which means I have a made my arsenal of comebacks and jokes and
outright insults over a lifetime. Words as weapons for every stupid jerk who
dares to cross me.
Before I went full Hulk, Tom started laughing. He just started laughing, so
hard that he actually snorted, and everybody around us just lost it. Were they
laughing because his laugh was so dorky and weird and cute? That’s why I was
laughing, anyway. Maybe they were laughing at him, or at me, but I didn’t care.
I just liked the sight and the sound of Tom enjoying himself. It made me feel
good.
A few boys mimicked Belinda saying “At least I’m thin!” and “Look at me! I’m
Belinda! Aren’t I the tits?” as they puffed their chests out and stuck out
their butts. She mumbled something then took off, no doubt to see if she could
bag Prince William before some other girl did. I wonder if she knows he’s only
14?
*** Tom ***
My ears were burning, and then they weren’t. My face was warm, my neck and
chest red no doubt. But I didn’t care. I was laughing, so hard my face hurt.
Carmen started it, then me, and the lot around us. It felt so good.
When Belinda left, everybody went back to dancing or snogging or drinking the
awful punch. My palm felt sweaty, and I guess hers was too. We let go of each
other’s hands, wiped our palms on napkins from the buffet table, then grabbed
for each other again.
She grinned up at me. “So you’re Tom, then.”
“Yeah,” I said. “Tom Hiddleston. Thomas William Hiddleston.”
“Oooh! That sounds nice.” She frowned. “Better than my name, anyway.”
I found two empty chairs, then pulled her aside so we could sit. “What’s so bad
about Enid? It’s a decent sort of name.”
Carmen wrinkled her nose. “Enid just… she’s not cool. She’s the sidekick. The
good girl who never gets into trouble. I think that was my mom’s idea when she
came up with it.”
“I guess she was wrong about that, then.”
Carmen pretended to punch me in the arm. “Shut up!”
“Sorry!” I said. “Carmen’s better, I think.”
“Carmen Paloma DiGregorio.” She nodded. “Paloma is after my grandma on my dad’s
side. Carmen Paloma just sounds prettier, right?”
“Paloma. That’s Spanish, from the Latin palumbus, or ‘dove’”.
I didn’t mean to show off, but I love Latin. It’s my best subject. I was about
to play it cool, but then Carmen’s face lit up.
“Scilicet!’ She looked triumphant. “I know some Latin. Not a lot but some.
Salve… um, what’s the Latin equivalent of Tom?”
“Call me Titus. That’s the name I picked for class.”
“Salve, Titus!” Carmen sighed, then smiled ruefully. “I’m sorry about back
there. I… I got carried away, and I’m sure you’re perfectly capable of
defending yourself. But ugh! She makes me so mad, the way she acted. Like, I
don’t wanna spend too much time on it, but what is her deal?”
I could only shrug in reply.
“C’mon,” replied Carmen. “Some girls at school kiss her ass because she wears
fancy clothes, like those fucking terrible jeans.” She gave a cursory glance to
my rugby shirt, khaki trousers, and ancient trainers. “Admit it, Tom. She’s
just mad because you’re outshone her. You’re the best-dressed person here.”
I felt my cheeks get warm. I knew she was teasing me, but the tone of her voice
wasn’t unkind like Belinda’s. I shook my head.
“No, it’s just…” I looked around to check if anybody was listening in. “Last
spring, there was a dance at Halpert. Belinda made a fuss over me. Because I’m
tall, tallest in my year.”
“So you’re tall. What else?”
“She… she thought I was older. Said she liked my hair. It was longer back then.
Curly, so it sort of fell in my eyes.”
She sat back for a second, looking thoughtful as she peered at my face.
“What are you doing, Carmen?”
“Picturing you with longer hair,” she murmured. “I’m sorry to have missed it.”
Grinning impishly, she squeezed my hand. “Go on.”
“Oh! She dragged me onto the dance floor. But I don’t…” I shook my head. “I
like dancing but I only ever did it at family parties. And then she just
started grinding against me. I just followed her lead. Never had a girl dance
on me like that before.”
“What did you think?” Carmen spoke in a hush.
“It was, it was exciting. I knew Belinda was older, I had heard boys talk about
her before. Like she was built up to be the hottest girl. But when we got to
the dance, I didn’t want to admit that I didn’t think she was fit like that.”
“But she noticed you, picked you out, right?” Carmen nodded slowly. “It had to
be pretty irresistible, having the popular girl choose you.”
“It was cool for a while,” I admitted. “But we started dancing, and I was sort
of stumbling. Stepping on her feet, and she didn’t like that. ‘You Sexy Thing’
was playing, but this like wasn’t dancing with my gran at a family party. This
was a proper dance, my first one. She sort of launched herself at me, and
that’s when I felt her up.”
“Of course she would throw herself at you like that.” Carmen rolled her eyes.
“Not that I’m judging. Okay, I guess I am.” Her brow furrowed. “That wasn’t…
was that the first time you’d, you know, made out with a girl?”
“Made out? You mean snogged?” When Carmen said yes, I continued. “Sort of?” I
avoided her gaze, then relented. “Actually, yes. I mean, I’d kissed before, but
not with the touching.”
“Did you like kissing her?” Carmen covered her mouth when I shook my head. “Oh
no!”
“She was just sort of, you know…” I flicked my tongue out, hissing a little
like a snake. When Carmen began to giggle furiously, I laughed too. “Then she
wondered why I was such a bad kisser. And that’s when she asked me what year I
was.”
“Huh,” said Carmen. “What a funny little hang-up. Superlatives. She only wants
whoever’s the tallest, the biggest, the richest, the strongest.”
“So what does that make me then?” I asked.
Carmen looked at me closely. “Too good. You’re too good for her, I think.”
“How do you know?”
“I know a lot of bad ones. And you’re not a thing like them, Tom Hiddleston.
Take it from me, an older, more experienced woman of seventeen.” She tossed her
hair playfully.
“How much more experienced?” The words were out before I even knew what I was
doing. Where did that even come from? Did I really say that?
“Were you flirting? Was that…?” When I began to shake my head, Carmen nodded
insistently. “It was, and don’t you forget it.”
We sat there for a bit, me stealing glances at Carmen as she took in the scene
around us. Everybody was dancing awkwardly or sort of horsing around to the old
disco records, the only ones we had. “You Sexy Thing” was long gone. Before I
could ask if they’d put it back on, a slow song came on.
I know I’m clumsy and all but when I looked at Carmen she had this look on her
face. Like she was thinking of something lovely. She sort of tapped her feet
gently, and I knew Carmen wanted to dance. I figured given a second she’d ask
me. But I wanted to do this for her. I wanted to do the asking myself.
“Carmen?”
“Yeah?” She looked at me, her eyes shining in the light. “What’s up?”
I took a breath. “Visne saltare?”
“What’s that mean?” She bit her lip. “Is that, do you want…?”
“To dance,” I said. “Do you want to dance?”
“Oh.” She smiled, almost to herself. “
Carmen kissed my cheek. She didn’t pull away, she just sort of rested her head
against mine, before whispering in my ear.
“Saltare volo tecum, Titus. Gratias tibi”
*** Carmen ***
Tom and I just stood there in the middle of the dance floor, the song going
ahead without us. I took his right hand and placed it on the small of my back.
“Okay?” I asked as I looked up.
“Yeah, but…” He shook his head. “Remember, I’m not a good dancer.”
“It’s okay,” I said and I meant it. “We can just sort of stand here? Listen to
the music.”
“Sure,” Tom said, sounding relieved.
We didn’t just stand there. We swayed, occasionally taking a step. I recognized
the song as one of my mom’s favorites, so I sang along for a bit.
How deep is your love
How deep is your love
I really need to learn
Cause we're living in a world of fools
Breakin’ us down
When they all should let us be
We belong to you and me
“You have a nice voice,” said Tom.
“It’s okay,” I said with a shrug. “I like singing.”
“Does it run in your family? A talent for singing, I mean?”
I grinned. “No. I just sing a lot with my family. My parents have a karaoke
machine.”
“What?” Tom laughed, shaking his head.
“They do! They’re crazy for it.”
Just as I began to laugh he spun me around, knocking us both into a short boy
and an even shorter girl who were joined at the lips. We slowed down, just a
little, making our way to the edge of the crowd.
At the far end of the room, I could still hear the music, but it was fainter
now. The words were lost as the song changed, and then changed again. Tom’s
hand had slipped down, just on top of my butt. The weight of it was nice, like
he wasn’t just sort of touching me but holding me for real. He still held my
right hand out to the side, and my arm was a little sore from the awkward
position. But then he sort of brought it back in, clasping my hand so my arm
was folded between us.
I stared at our hands clasped like that. My hand neatly tucked into his, his
thumb idly stroking my knuckles. I looked up to find him peering at me, a sort
of dreamy look on his face.
“Okay?”
I nodded. “Perfect. You sure you’re only fifteen?” I couldn’t help it.
“Like I said, I’ll be sixteen in a few months.” Still swaying with me, he
tightened his grasp on my butt and grinned.
“Okay,” I said slyly, then stepped closer into his embrace. “You’ve got me.”
“I’ve got you,” Tom echoed.
I leaned back a little, looking at his face and noticing his mouth, which was
just a little slack. “Tom?”
“Yeah?”
“Kiss me.”
He leaned over, resting his forehead on mine. “Yeah?”
“Yes,” I replied, nuzzling his cheek.
“But Belinda…” He laughed to himself. “She…”
“No, Tom.” I shook my head. “Forget her. Forget what she told you.” I kissed
his cheek. “Forget everything.”
“Carmen… I can’t… oh.” Tom moaned when I nipped at his jaw. “I’m not good at
this.”
“Kissing? Pssht,” I scoffed. “It’s just like anything. Me singing, you dancing
with your gran.” I giggled.
“The only way you get better is if you practice.”
*** Tom ***
Reading. Swimming. Riding a bike. Whistling. Nobody’s born knowing these
things. You have to learn how to do it. And you can’t learn unless you have
someone to teach you. Someone who will test you, show you how it’s done.
This wasn’t my first kiss. But I would have been happy if it was my last. It
was slow and tender, and then it was wet as my mouth opened and there was her
tongue teasing mine. I lost my breath over and over again, between gasps and
sighs and moans.
“Oh Tom…” She whispered my name and all at once I felt tense. I had to hold her
tighter, kiss her harder. Every time she moaned my name, it felt urgent.
Impatient. Like she was waiting for something or someone. Her arms wrapped
around my neck, Carmen was delicious. How could any girl be so soft? Her
breasts and tummy, the small of her back. She shivered every time I touched
her. My rough hands on her body, and she kept pressing herself into me. So much
soft skin and soft hair and soft voice. She came in closer, stopping when she
felt my erection. I was hard, and now she knew it too. Before I could stammer
out an apology, Carmen broke the kiss then brought a finger to my lips.
“Take me somewhere, Tom,” she said quietly before kissing me again. “Please.”
*** Carmen ***
You didn’t see him, not at first. And then there he is, standing just behind
someone else, in the corner of your eye. You get closer, close the gap. Maybe
his smiles are tentative because he doesn’t like his teeth. Maybe you’re
defensive because there are other girls, prettier girls with nicer hair and
better clothes. He’s sort of clumsy, tripping over himself as he tries to move
to the music. But then he stands up straight. He holds your hand, looks at you
with his sweet blue eyes as he tells you things you didn’t realize you wanted
to know.
Is it enough? Do you know enough about him to take his hand, slip out of a
dance full rich boys and posh girls? Follow him down a corridor, sneaking past
one chaperone then two? Checking doors, giggling as you do. It’s like you’re
drunk.
The sound of the closet door as he closes and locks it behind you. It’s dark
but a small high window lets in a little moonlight. Inside this space, you’re
little more than shadows that can touch and kiss and hug.
Out of the stuffy room, you can finally smell his cologne when you bury your
face in his neck. He’s murmuring your name, not the one you were given but the
one you took, and his breath is hot on your skin.
“Carmen… oh god. Oh fuck, Carmen. What do I do? How do I…?”
“Do what feels good, Tom.”
He moans in your ear, and you whisper again: “Just don’t stop.”
His hands find your breasts, over the t-shirt at first and then underneath. You
arch your back so you can reach behind and unclasp your bra. When you do, his
hands almost seem to catch your breasts as they are freed. It feels so good,
and you can’t catch your breath because he hasn’t stopped kissing you.
Then his mouth finds your breasts, his hands cupping them so he can lick and
suck them. He may not care for his teeth, but they hurt so good on your
nipples. They create shocks of pleasure that radiate through your body. You
feel him everywhere, inside and out.
When one of his hands fumbles under your skirt, you’re wet, have been for some
time, and now he can feel it too. Leaving his hand in place, he straightens up
and there are his lips again on your ear, whispering: “Show me what to do.”
Keep your left hand on the nape of his neck, fingering the curls as you kiss
him eagerly. With your right hand, you pull the waistband of your panties away
from your belly, and then he’s touching you. It’s easier to guide him, place
your hand on his and steer him.
He’s a fast learner.
*** Tom ***
“Just don’t stop.”
Like I could, Carmen.
You felt so good, too good. Grabbing at me, crying out with every kiss, every
bite and lick. We fumbled in the dark, and it was perfect. Your tits in my
mouth were so soft and sweet. But I didn’t know how good it felt to touch you
down there. Between your legs with my hands.
So you showed me. Whispering ideas in my ear between kisses: “Yes, Tom, just
circle it. Slowly… ah! Yes. Just like… oh! Faster… now faster…”
You were so hot there. Hot and wet, and it felt weird but then it felt good.
Touching you like that. All the time you were kissing me, laughing until all
you could do, all we could do, was breathe and kiss. We were close, getting
closer still. My finger on the button, touching it like you showed me with your
own soft hand. And then I had it. I had you. Could touch you like you wanted,
without your help, but I wouldn’t have cared if you had held on.
I was out of my head. Not thinking anymore. Doing. I was feeling, touching
where it felt good. It felt good everywhere. You felt good wherever I touched
you, and all the while your mouth was whispering yes and oh! and then you
couldn’t make words anymore.
You showed me. How to kiss you, and you kissed me back. How to dance, and you
followed me. How to touch you, and you sang for me. Whimpering as I went
faster, and I held you tighter and then…
I slipped. Another finger, the one that had been sort of petting you. Not on
your clit but just beneath. It found its way inside, where there was more heat
and wet and it felt so good. You tensed up, sobbed and I thought I’d hurt you.
But then you said yes over and over again — yesyesyesyesyes — and I kept at it.
Kept going until you were shivering, moving against my hand, helping me, your
hands now clasping me so tight around the hips so you felt how hard I was for
you. How much I wanted you, and want you still.
Somewhere in my head, that question came to me. Not in so many words but it was
feeling again, color and light when I squeezed my eyes shut and kept kissing
you and tasting you. “What happens when an unstoppable force meets an immovable
object?” While I am not an object you certainly were unstoppable force for me.
Me the question, you the irresistible answer.
*** Carmen ***
Oh. Oh.
ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME!!!
OH MY GOD. Oh my.
Oh.
*** Tom ***
Before I could catch my breath, wonder at the feeling of the air as it cooled
my wet fingers, Carmen shushed me. I wanted to ask if she was okay, make sure
she could tidy up before we returned to the dance. I could sort myself out
later, alone in my bed, the taste of her tongue and the soft skin of her tits
lingering in my mouth.
But then her hands were on me, fumbling with the buttons on my trousers. My
boxers slipped down, and my cock sprung out right into her waiting hands.
“Oh,” she breathed. “Oh.” I felt the press of her lips against my throat. “Hold
on.”
Hold onto what? My hands were now flat on the wall, planted on each side of
her, and I braced myself as she began to move her hands. Up and down, gently
feeling me. Our breaths hitched at the same time when she passed a finger, or
was it her thumb?, over the head. A bead of something wet, she massaged into
the tip and it felt so good I could have collapsed. My knees were shaking, but
I stayed standing. Breathing slowly. I wanted to make this last.
“Just relax,” she murmured. “I’m just going to… we need something wet. Sorry.”
And then I heard her spit. Now her palm was damp, not quite slick as her hand
began to touch my cock again. Her touch was light, but when I thrust into her
hands, she laughed to herself and began to stroke me. Faster and then harder,
and it was all I could do push up against her, hip to hip, hard into soft, but
this was enough. It was good and then it was the greatest feeling in the world.
I tensed up as I  went faster, now fucking her hand and her moaning that it was
good, then better than good. It was perfect. It was right.
“Kiss me,” she whispered and I did. Sucking on her tongue, nibbling on her lips
while my hips kept rocking, faster and harder because all my body wanted was to
be touched and kissed by hers.
“Oh fuck! Shit… Car, I’m gonna… I’m gonna come… oh god…” I whimpered between
kisses.
“Do it,” she whispered. “Come.”
So I did.
*** Carmen ***
My back was sore, my lips were swollen from the kissing, so much so that I
would need to ice them when I got back to the dorm. I could feel my hair all
sweaty on my forehead. God knows what my eyeliner looked like. Probably like
Robert Smith.
But I felt brilliant. Wonderful. This sweet boy, clumsy and a little unsure.
Sagging against me, his arms wrapped around me as I reluctantly took my hands
away from his cock. I loved touching him. I relished the weight of his body,
the force as he thrust once, then again and again, over and over. Was he aware
of the little sounds he made, whining into my mouth? Wanting to come but
wanting to make this last as long as we could manage.
But I wanted him to come. I wanted to feel him do it, know what it was like to
feel Tom’s cum in my hands. Touch him when he went soft again. No detail, no
matter how intimate, was going to be lost. I liked him. I more than liked him.
I know that now. There was no way that I could forget.
“I… oh my god, I got you,” he said, sounding panicky. “Ugh! Carmen, I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay,” I replied, giggling. “It happens. I came. You did, too.”
“But I should have…”
“Should’ve what? Pulled away?” I strained to see in the dark, making out a
shelf with what looked like boxes. “But if you could go look, over by the
window? Maybe there are some paper towels?” I felt a little sad when I felt Tom
step away, so I slumped against the door and listened to him feel around.
“Ah! Hold out your hands, just in front of you?” I could hear the smile in his
voice, and I smiled too when I felt him wipe one hand, then the other, clean me
up.
“What about you?” I whispered. “Do you need to… oh fuck! Your pants. Trousers,
whatever.” I could hear Tom zipping up in the dark.
“I… I could probably just go back to my room, before the others, and get
cleaned up. I’ll miss the end of the party but…”
I held my hand out, letting my fingers trail down the front of his shirt. He
caught my wrist in his hand, then pulled me in.
He kissed me. “No,” he whispered. “I don’t think I’ll be missing anything
there.”
“Me neither,” I said.
Once we got out of the closet, we stood there not looking at each other. I was
the first to look up at him, search his face. His eyes were downcast, but his
face was red. He had the biggest, cheesiest grin on his face. And that was
good. It was great. I could tell I was smiling like a loon. When he caught me
looking at him, he laughed.
“Um, hi,” he said. “What’s a nice girl like you doing in a cupboard like this?”
“Ugh!” I swatted at him. “That was terrible! Try again!”
“Hello,” he said gallantly. “May I escort you back to the frivolities, madam?”
“Sure, but can you show me to the toilets instead? My hair’s gotta look… and
don’t even tell me what my eye makeup is doing right now!”
Tom was waiting, sort of bouncing his hip against the wall, when I was done
cleaning up in the bathroom set up for the girls to use. My eyeliner was only a
little smudged and when I changed the part in my hair, tucking it behind my
ears, I looked alright. I had peeked at Tom before I went in, and was glad to
see his trousers looked okay. Still, though, he was insistent about going back
to his room instead of the dance.
“You gonna walk me back?” I looked at a clock on a wall just beind him. “Oh,
it’s almost done, anyway. I may just go outside. Get some air before we have to
get back on the bus.”
Tom nodded. “I’ll join you.” Instead of holding his hand, I slipped my hand
into the crook of his arm.
He walked me down a long hallway, bulletin boards covered with notices and
announcements, the occasionally case full of trophies and medals. There was a
collage of photographs from what looked like a field trip. In one of the
pictures, I thought I saw a grinning Tom standing in a small group of boys. All
of them dressed in shirts and shorts, reading to go hiking.
“Is that you?” When Tom nodded, I grinned. “Where was this?”
“Pompeii last term. Latin class. The ruins were great, but the graffiti…”
“Graffiti? Like what?”
Tom waggled his eyebrows. “They were cheeky, as my mum would say. Suspirium
puellam Celadus thraex.”
I went over the words in my head, struggling to translate. “Celadus and the
girls… what are they doing?”
Tom leaned in and whispered in my ear. “Celadus makes the girls moan!”
I rolled my eyes. “Really?!”
“Yes, really!”
“Dirty Romans,” I muttered to myself.
Tom tutted at me. “Clever Romans, more like.”
“Clever, huh?” I looked around, finding a pencil hanging from a string stuck to
the wall next to a sign-up sheet for a student club. Tearing a corner of the
sheet, I scribbled something on the paper before pinning it on the board, just
out of sight at the bottom.
“What’s that say?” Tom crouched down to read it, his eyes getting huge when he
saw it. “Carmen Paloma DiGregorio!”
“What?” I asked innocently. “I needed to practice Latin!”
“They’re gonna see that!”
“That’s the idea!” I shook my head. “They’ll see it, then they’ll know.”
“Suspirium puella Thomas thraex?!”
I pulled him up and kissed him again. “Yes, you made a girl moan. A few times
in fact. The Romans, I reckon, would be very proud of you.”
There were already a few girls out by the bus, chatting amongst themselves or
getting in some last minute flirting with the Eton boys who lingered among
them. Through the windows, we could hear another slow song, “Too Much Heaven”
by The Bee Gees. I guess the disco records were back to stay.
We didn’t attract much attention, Tom and I, as we stood off to the side. I was
slowly letting him go, relaxing my grasp on his arm, then loosely holding his
hand. I felt good, and I knew I would for a long while, but I hated having to
say goodbye. I thought about doing it quickly, just darting off so I could make
a clean break. I’d be gone in a few weeks anyway.
But before I could run away, Tom hugged me. It was such a good hug. I relaxed
instantly, sighing as he kissed the top of my head. When I laughed to myself,
he cupped my face in his hand and tipped my chin up so he could look at me.
“What are you thinking, Carmen?” He said with a sleepy grin.
“You sure you’re only fifteen?”
“Sixteen in February,” he corrected.
“And yet you kiss like, I dunno.” I shrugged. “A seasoned gentleman of
eighteen, at least.”
“Do I?” His eyebrows shot up. “Well, it wasn’t all me.”
“Wasn’t it?” I asked.
“It wasn’t,” he said, then kissed me softly. “I had a very good teacher.”
End Notes
     In case you were wondering (apologies but I haven't taken Latin since
     high school):
     “Visne saltare?”: Do you want to dance?
     “Saltare volo tecum, Titus. Gratias tibi”: I want to dance with you,
     Titus. Thank you.
     Suspirium puellam Celadus thraex.: Celadus makes the girls moan.
     Suspirium puella Thomas thraex.: Thomas makes the girl moan.
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