THE STARLET SLAVE 16
joypaine
16. Invitation
Dicky was the last guy on earth that you'd ever expect to go on a date with a
whore. Or with any girl, for that matter. Dicky was a brain.
He wasn't a wimp, by any stretch of the imagination. He had done several things
around school that showed real leadership ability. He was President of the
school band, for instance, and he had just about single-handedly organized the
Science Club. And made it work. But he just didn't seem interested in girls.
Sure, he liked to joke with them, just like with the fellows, but you got the
idea that if he ever thought of you as a girl, it was as a sort of biological
curiosity. We used to joke that if Dicky ever had a wet dream, he'd wring out
the sheets and bring the semen in to the lab the next morning.
No, he didn't give any indication of being gay, either, and he used to treat
the girls with the utmost respect. But he reminded me of that scientist Tesla,
who they said cultivated a love for a pigeon so he wouldn't be distracted by
women. Tesla, I think. Dicky's mind just operated at a high altitude.
Well, you can imagine my amazement when Dicky started taking a shine to me --
catching up with me in the corridor to walk to the next class, for instance.
Asking permission (permission, yet!) to eat lunch at the same table with me.
The usual things a guy did with a girl he was interested in. No, he didn't
offer to carry my books for me. Fellows weren't doing that in those days.
I figured that he might be going to do a study on the influence of heredity and
diet and lifestyle on the size of breasts, or something. But if he did, I was
willing to bet that it would be a scholarly study, worthy of publication in the
AMA Journal.
And he never made any reference to my "profession", nor did he make any
improper suggestions or advances. Hell, I was frustrated when he didn't, and he
became sort of a challenge to me. I figured that if he was going to ignore the
fact that I was a woman, I was gong to have to find some way to get into his
pants. Christ, he probably was a virgin, too. Wouldn't that be just something!
What fools these mortals be, as somebody said. Puck, wasn't it?
Dicky even asked me to help him with his research project -- something about
the mechanism that arouses oestrus in dogs, whatever that is. But I had to beg
off, because Peck's demands didn't leave me any free time.
Believe me, though, I was really flattered that any man -- especially a Big Man
About School like Dicky -- would pay any attention to me. And the fact that I
declined to help him with his project didn't turn him off a bit. He just kept
on as he had, and finally he got around to asking me for a date. "Bill's
parents are going out of town for the weekend, and he's going to give a party,"
Dicky said. "There'll probably be some drinking, but no dope. Bill's pretty
straight when it comes to what he puts into his body. He's really serious about
wrestling, you know."
Well, you can bet that the invitation flattered the pants off me. If I had been
wearing pants, that is. And although a big party wasn't the ideal place to get
screwed -- at least, I assumed it wasn't going to be that kind of a party --
there would always be afterwards, when Dicky took me home. Mom would probably
be asleep by then, and I could even sneak Dicky into my own bedroom, if he
didn't have anything more original in mind. Hell, this wouldn't be the first
time. Lots of my customers thought it was fun to defile me in my own bed, where
I could just turn over and dream about it afterward. They didn't know that I
always had to get up and report to Peck for a debriefing, and maybe for another
trick. Or a little playtime with Peck himself.
I don't have any idea where the term "debriefing" came from, by the way.
Usually a girl had her briefs off long before that time.
Well, I was walking on air after Dicky's invitation. And then I came back to
earth with a jolt. Shit, Peck would never let me have the time off!
I knew damned well what Peck's answer would be, but the dream was so sweet that
I asked him anyway, at a time when he had just finished torturing me, and I
thought he might be in a good mood.
Well, Peck surprised the Hell out of me. He said that he'd be glad to let me
have the night off, if . . .
