Disclaimer: I don't own The Outsiders unfortunately.
Author's note: Well, this is the first story in a really long time. Sorry about that.
The talk of the neighborhood was that Dallas Winston got arrested again. For what? The nine-thousandth time? That boy was the tuffest guy in town, but really, had he spent more than a month on the outside in the past year? Those thoughts tumbled through Johnny Cade's mind like the paper bag tumbled down the barren street. It was two in the afternoon on a weekday which was obvious by the fact the street was usually filled with Tim Shepard's grease-slick drones and their overly-prized cars. Johnny liked the quiet and had eased into it. That was why he almost jumped out of his skin when he heard a high-pitched call.
"Johnny, is that you?"
The voice came from whom else, but Ms. Sylvia Parker whose creamy white legs were dangling off her porch. "Oh, Johnny Cade! Would you come here for a second?" Her voice was shaking. The notion that she could be crying put a lump in Johnny's throat. Sure, he felt awful that she was crying, but instead of making him want to hug her, it made him want to run.
"I'm sure you heard our boy got himself thrown in the cooler again. He told Tim to tell me it was assault, but he's telling everyone else a different story. A cop found him sleeping with his daughter! The damn cop made up some phony charge to get him put away which is really shitty, but, but he two-timed me, Johnny. Again. That fucking bastard." He could tell she really wanted to break down, but her pride kept her from it. Normally, everyone saw Sylvia strutting around like a peacock, but seeing her all crumpled up made Johnny feel real sore.
"Gee, Syl, I didn't know," Johnny whispered. He was certainly shy talking to chicks. Shy being a massive understatement. When Ponyboy got upset, he gave him a pat on the back and he'd be okay, but with Sylvia? That probably wouldn't would work, but he tried it anyway—more of a rub than a pat. He sat down next to her, facing forward, but she scooted closer and the edge of her skirt rested on Johnny's knee. He didn't think he could breathe.
She picked up the edge of her skirt and used it to wipe her tears—giving him a view of her thigh. In all his sixteen years life, he had never seen that much of girl—and it was tying his stomach into little, tight knots.
"Do you want a cigarette, Johnny? It's the least I can do for breaking down on you like that."
"Oh, uh sure." He fumbled through his pockets find a matchbook to light the cigarette hanging out of her red lips. He lit match after match, but the wind kept blowing them out. Soon, the book was empty. "I'm sorry, I don't have anymore."
"That's okay," she said, tearing up again. "Do you want to come inside? I might have a lighter somewhere."
"No thanks, I'd better get going actually—"
And she started crying again. "Please? Just one cigarette and you can go, I swear."
He soon gave in and followed her into the dark house and to the couch.
Sylvia started to look through the end table drawer, but she stopped to say, "Dallas cheats on me all the time just because I slept around on him just once. I didn't mean to either. He was gone for three months and I had too much to drink. Buck had this friend who was real sweet…" Everything she said after that came out in a sob that he couldn't understand. She hugged him and he patted her back again.
She wiped her eyes angrily, pushed her hair back and before he could reject she was laying down, naturally pulling him down on top of her. She put her hand on his neck and started kissing him. He thought to push her away, but her lips just felt so good on his. Johnny felt like shit for kissing Dallas's girl, but he just physically couldn't stop.
She pulled back and smiled at him. That would have been the perfect time to reject, but a mix of some magnetic force and the rage of hormones made him tangle his right hand in her wavy, brown hair and put the other on her waist. Without warning, she slipped her tongue into his mouth with a growing eagerness. His heart rate was so high; he could hardly stand it when she ran her hands up and down his boney chest.
From then on, everything went faster and faster. He wasn't sure where he got the impulse to kiss her neck. Or how she knew just the right moment to slip his thin, black t-shirt off. Or, that it was just so damn easy for him to unbutton her blouse. The flashing warning sign at the back of his mind kept getting pushed farther and farther back by the warmth of Sylvia's beautiful, bare body against his.
XXX
He awoke to find Sylvia asleep on top of him, huddled up under a knitted throw blanket.
It took a few minutes for Johnny to process exactly what happened and how stupid it was. He fooled around with Dallas Winston's girl. He was probably hours late to play football with Pony. And worst of all—he actually liked it. He really, really liked it.
"Oh my god," Sylvia said, her eyes growing bigger with realization. She sat up and pulled the blanket over her.
With lightning speed, Johnny threw on his underwear and jeans and backed away from the couch. He couldn't find any words as he frantically searched for his shirt. She handed it to him and after slipping on his shoes, he backed toward the door and onto the porch. As he started running, he could hear her calling, "I'm so sorry!" in the same voice she used to entice him onto the porch.
Author's note part two: Johnny did not die a virgin. This is dedicated to X.