Seven-Year Jock Itch

byline: Anubis C. Soundwave

1. Stairway to heaven.

"Kwan!" orders Star. "Mop that up!"

"Come on, Star," groans Kwan. "It's just a beer."

"How'd you even-never mind!" spits Star, snatching the six-pack from Kwan and dumping it down the drain. "My parents will kill me if they find booze at this party. They're trusting me!"

"Okay...I'm sorry," says Kwan.

Another student pokes his head into the kitchen. "Star: get Number Fourteen into the closet," he grins.

"Fourteen?" asks Star.

"She won 'Seven Minutes' with Number Seven," says the student.

"I can't believe we're still playing 'Seven Minutes in Heaven'," says Star, rolling her eyes.

"Hey, I never thought we had so many hot girls at Casper High," says the student. "Told you inviting out of clique was a good idea."

"I guess. Some of the geeks we invited are actually kind of cool in their own way," says Star, shrugging. "Still wouldn't hang around them on a day-to-day basis, though."

"I wonder if Paulina is still mad with us," wonders Kwan.

Star snorts. "We couldn't invite Fenton because Dash would be an idiot about it," she says, "and since we excluded the top-tier geek of our school, then to keep things even, we had to exclude our top-tier A-lister."

"It's simple math," adds the student.

"You could have excluded yourself," says Kwan.

"I'm not being shut out of my own party at my own house, especially since I have to include my stupid cousin!" balks Star. "Let me get Number Fourteen," she continues as she flounces out of the kitchen.


Star hands Number Fourteen a small pastel green gift sack.

"What's this?" asks Fourteen.

"Party favors for playing the game," says Star.

Fourteen studies the contents: a stick of lip gloss, a pack of chewing gum, and a small square package with the word SPARTAN printed on it. She raises a thick, dark eyebrow at the third item as her eyes widen.

"That's in case you and your partner want to spend longer than seven minutes together," explains Star.

"But..." begins Fourteen, who blushes and then scowls.

"Look, I'm sure you'll probably never use it," says Star. "I'm just helping everyone be careful."

"I'll figure it out if anything happens," says Fourteen, "but I'm still leery of this invite."

"Call it an 'adopt-a-geek' program if you want," snorts Star. "You didn't have to come."

"Hanging around you was the lesser of two evils on my plate today," grins Fourteen wryly. "You don't know my parents."


"If you're lucky-and with your number, you've got to be," says Timothy Turner, Star's socially-inept cousin in band, to Number Seven.

"Seriously, Timmy," groans Seven. "Just shut up about my number before I remember that you're a band geek and I should be pounding your face into hamburger."

"Take it easy," winces Timothy. "My cousin's a cheerleader you're friends with."

"That's the only reason you're not dead yet, twerp," says Seven. "Now tell me the damn rules."

"All I was saying is that if you need more than seven minutes with Number Fourteen," says Timothy, opening the closet, "then there's a stairway to heaven." He reveals a hidden set of stairs beneath a trap door.

"Those stairs just lead to your bedroom in the basement, Timmy," snorts Seven.

"That's the beauty of it," grins Timothy. "If Star's parents come home and they open the closet, the worst they'll see is a couple of kids making out in here. Star won't get in trouble, and you and Fourteen can play undisturbed."

"If I step on one of your toy robot parts while I'm barefoot-*" warns Seven.

"My scale Guncannon Zeed model kits have been put away, safe from your heavy feet," says Timothy, perturbed.

"I really just hope we don't run into your life-sized anime doll if we end up down there," Seven scoffs.

Timothy blushes, pouting. "Star took 'Megumi' upstairs to her room," he says, wounded.

"Then get back to the party," says Seven. "You still have a once-in-a-lifetime chance to kiss a real girl tonight." He enters the closet.

Timothy fumes. "Why did Star even invite that jerk?" he mutters as he exits the hallway to join the party. "He's almost as bad as my old babysitter."


Number Seven and Number Fourteen sit together in the closet.

"So," asks Fourteen, "do we have to kiss, or can we just discuss the school election or..." Her words trail off.

Seven strokes Fourteen's face gently. "Soft skin," he says, leaning in to smell Fourteen's hair and neck.

Fourteen stiffens a moment, then relaxes after smelling a mix of athletic male sweat and cologne. "You overdid the Old Spice a bit, champ," she says, feeling goosebumps.

"And you smell like a York Peppermint Pattie," counters Seven. He touches Fourteen's chin a moment, then kisses her.

Fourteen returns the kiss, finding that Seven's mouth feels and tastes vaguely familiar.

Seven pulls Fourteen closer, deepening the kiss as his hands roam beneath her shirt. "Am I bad," he whispers as he touches Fourteen's breasts, "for telling you that I like your tits?"

"You're no worse," hisses Fourteen huskily, kissing Seven's neck, "than any other sweaty, cisgendered male."

"I don't know what that means," moans Seven as he grinds his hips into Fourteen's, "but you sound hot when you say it."

Fourteen, feeling a warm rush of delight build inside her, responds to Seven, cooing with pleasure. She and Seven resume kissing, their hands roaming over each other as they start removing each other's shirts.

Several minutes pass as the pair of teenagers continue making out.

Seven removes his mouth from one of Fourteen's breasts. "So...creamy-tasting," he sighs, lazily lapping at the nipple. Seven starts to move his hands down to remove Fourteen's panties, but he abruptly draws back.

Fourteen pants in a combination of relief and shock. "Not that...I'm complaining...about your restraint," she says, "but why...?"

"Just come with me downstairs," whispers Seven as he licks Fourteen's ear, "and I'll show you." He opens the trap door inside the closet leading to the basement.

"We...only have about a minute," says Fourteen.

"We need more than seven minutes," smiles Seven, taking Fourteen's hand in his. He leads her down into the basement.


Fourteen, drowsy, lies naked with Seven in a full size bed.

Seven starts to open his mouth, but Fourteen touches Seven's lips with her fingers.

"Not yet," she whispers. "I'm trying to figure something out."

Seven chuckles. "I was just going to ask what you thought about the SPARTAN party favor," he says, grinning. "I don't think it was so hard."

Fourteen clamps her hands over her mouth, stifling a giggle as she struggles to keep in a bad pun.

Seven, realizing Fourteen's struggle, laughs. "Don't feel bad; I would have made that joke, too," he says.

"I don't know why my parents warned me to use those whenever...the mood strikes," says Fourteen, "but didn't bother to show me how to apply them."

"You're a girl," says Seven. "If your dad is anything like my friend's dad, he didn't want you getting into it until you turned forty."

"No," says Fourteen, "my dad was pretty open about things for the most part. He just drew a blank at the 'raincoat' phase."

"...with all due respect, ma'am," says Star, her voice a faint echo trailing down into the basement bedroom, "the Lollipop Guild convention is not at my house!"

"Young lady," a man's voice responds, "we came here to pick up our daughter Samantha."

Fourteen's eyes widen as she sits up in the bed.

"Sammy-kins," cries a woman's voice. "Where are you, honey?"

"It's them all right," mutters Fourteen. "My cover is thoroughly blown."

"Those your parents, 'Samantha'?" asks Seven.

"Yeah," says Fourteen. "If you ever call me that again, though," she continues, "I will choke you to death with your jock strap."

Seven's eyes widen with glee; he suddenly pulls Fourteen down to him and kisses her deeply. "I've always...wanted to be with you..." he says as he breaks the kiss.

Breathless, Fourteen stares at Seven a moment, the teenage boy's blond hair, dark blue eyes, and bulky brown eyebrows reminding her of someone familiar...

"No guesses yet?" asks Seven, smirking.

"I have my suspicions," says Fourteen warily, as Seven's smirk made the boy's face look even more familiar, "but I don't have time to air them now. My parents won't leave this place without me," she adds as she slips on her bra and panties.

Seven admires Fourteen's slim body as the pale-skinned brunette puts on a white spaghetti-strap tank top, a plaid black skirt with green and purple print, and black combat boots.

"I'll give you a hint," says Seven after a moment.

"No," says Fourteen. "I'm perfectly happy to keep this particular mystery unsolved."

Seven shakes his head. "I have to be able to look you in the eye when we go back to school," he says. "I just wanted to say that I won't hold any of this over Fenton's head."

Fourteen smirks. "Good. Because if you do," she says, "then you will be a gelded junior-varsity quarterback." Wobbling a bit, she unsteadily exits the basement, climbing up the stairs.


Sam leaves Star's house with her parents, Jeremy and Pamela Manson.

"I'm sorry that I missed curfew without calling you," says Sam, staring at her party favor bag.

"It's okay, honey," says Jeremy. "I can guess things got...involved," he adds with an understanding smile.

"'Involved'?" snorts Sam.

"We weren't always stuffy members of the 'Lollipop Guild', young lady," sputters Jeremy, nudging a stray blond hair back into place.

"You did have a certain...glow in your skin, Sammy-kins," adds Pamela.

"I was sitting in a closet, brooding alone," says Sam.

Jeremy and Pamela look at each other a moment. "If you say so, honey," they say in unison.

Sam rolls her eyes. "Mom, Dad: I don't expect you to buy that I didn't get into anything," she glowers as their car arrives at their mansion, "but I at least would like you to give me the benefit of the doubt in the absence of proof." Scowling, Sam exits the car, heading to the door.

Jeremy gives Pamela a wry grin. "I somehow doubt that we were going to catch our little girl with the fellow in flagrante delicto," he says.

"I'm just relieved that Sammy wasn't hurt," says Pamela, "and that her moment wasn't wasted with Danny Fenton."

"Now, dear," says Jeremy. "We promised Sammy that we would give Danny a fair chance."

"I just think she can do better," pouts Pamela. "Danny's a nice enough boy, but his parents are very odd people."

"That may be..." Jeremy continues; he and Pamela continue discussing the matter as they enter their mansion.