AN: I JUST WANT TO POINT OUT THAT I AM IN NO WAY TRYING TO ROMANTICIZE OR EXCUSE RAPE. THERE IS NO EXCUSE IN THE WORLD FOR IT. THIS IS A WORK OF FICTION AND I WOULD NEVER WISH THIS SITUATION ON ANYONE.
The warm June wind howled in my ear as I turned the corner. The windows of my '69 Mustang were down, the way I liked them. It was really easy to spot the party; the guy, Trent, lived across from an empty lot at the end of a dead-end road, but the empty lot was full of cars and teenagers with cigarettes hanging off their lips tonight. I pulled into the lot, parked next to a yellow Volkswagen Beetle, and stepped out into the night. My old leather jacket was a bit much for the weather, and the atmosphere so I left it behind and locked the door. This is the third party I've been to since my parents relocated to Miami two weeks ago to open a new branch of their mattress store. The guys I've been hanging out with aren't exactly the best crowd; okay, that's an understatement, they're the worst kind of people. But, unfortunately, that's the kind of guy I've become.
The local high school just let out, finally, so one of the guys is having an 'End of the Year' party and there's supposed to be a keg and plenty of girls . Plus, I need all the friends I can get, so who am I to turn down a party invite? My feet carry me down Trent's driveway and through his front door where a couple is making out in the arm chair in the foyer. Down the hall and to the right is a large, white kitchen with a grey quartz island. On top of the island are three large Gatorade coolers, presumably filled with various flavors of liquor-infused punch. Each cooler has a line about five people long, waiting to fill their red Solo cups with the liquid, and the rest of the kitchen space was occupied with people dancing, talking, and making out. I walked throughout the kitchen and breakfast area, where a lively game of Captain Dickhead was playing out, and through the large French doors into the backyard.
The large pool and adjoining hot tub were filled with people in various stages of dress, and a bonfire was roaring next to the promised keg, where a very petite, beach-blonde in a crop top and short denim shorts was being lifted into a handstand position by a couple of muscular guys. Finally I spotted Trent, Dallas, and the other guys over by the outdoor kitchen area. I headed their way and saw that they were standing by the bar pouring shots. Dallas held a bottle of Jack Daniels Tennessee Honey that he was pouring directly into the mouth of a brunette girl who was wearing only a blue bikini top and floral print high-waisted shorts. Trent had a line of about nine shot glasses that he was pouring top-shelf tequila into while the group surrounding him grabbed lime slices out of a bowl.
"Ayyy! Austin's here! It's about time, douchebag! Welcome to the party," Dallas yelled when he saw me walking towards the group.
"Sorry, man. I'm still learning the area," I laughed as I clapped his hand and grabbed a shot glass from the counter-top. He poured the Tennessee Honey into the glass, overflowing it, and I threw it back into my mouth, spilling a bit onto my grey v-neck t-shirt. Trent just eyed me from his spot behind the bar. Trent was the leader, the worst of the worst, and I had yet to find my way into his graces. Fortunately enough for me, Dallas lived across the street and we met up on my first day in Miami and we hit it off pretty well.
"What's up, Trent? Awesome party!" I said, smiling at him as I set my shot glass down on the bar.
"Thanks. It's usually better, but I had to keep it tame enough so most of our class would actually show up. Pussies don't know how to really party," he replied. I can see what he means. At Dallas's party last weekend there was a couple, completely naked, fucking on the couch and multiple lines of coke set up on the coffee table. It wasn't exactly the kind of scene I was used to, but I could handle it if it meant being part of their group.
After he said it, I realized what he really meant. A large group of girls who were far more clothed that the majority of the party guests stepped into the backyard and surveyed the yard.
"Hey ladies, come over here!" Gavin, the nice prettyboy, yelled to the group. The girls made their way over and one in particular really stood out to me. She was around 5'3" and very thin. Her chestnut hair was perfectly curled and reached her lower back. She was wearing a white peplum top with sky blue skinny jeans, and her makeup was perfect and flawless, but still natural. In her hand was a nearly full cup of punch that I could tell she was only sipping so she would have something to do. She didn't seem very comfortable being at this type of party.
"I didn't think you ladies would come. Figured a party wasn't really your scene," Trent said quietly, passing shot glasses filled with Malibu to the girls who were willing to take them.
"We weren't so sure either. But we found out it wasn't like usual so we decided to give it a shot," replied a very tall girl with blonde hair that ended right above her ass. She downed her shot and smiled at all of us. We struck up a conversation with the girls and when they were all distracted by Dallas's description of his upcoming summer plans in Greece, I saw Trent surreptitiously put his hand over the brunette's cup. I wasn't entirely sure of what he put in it, but I guessed it wasn't good. When he was done, our eyes met and he gave me a look that clearly said "don't be a fucking snitch." I intend to listen to that look,for my own good. Trent then walked off to check on the keg, and when he was sure no one was looking, motioned for me to follow him.
I left the bar and headed to follow him. We huddled up and he checked to make sure there was no one in earshot. "Okay, Moon, you want in my good graces?" He asked, slightly menacingly. I nodded. "Alright, did you see the girl in the blue pants?" I nodded again. "I put a little something special in her drink. She'll be taking quite the nap in a little bit. I'll distract her friends and make sure everything's taken care of, but if you want in the group, you need to get in her pants tonight."
"Woah, man. You mean like rape her?" I whisper-yelled? I couldn't believe what I was hearing. Just moments ago, I was admiring her beauty, and now here Trent is, telling me I need to take her innocence if I want to be in the group.
AN: I tried a much different, more descriptive writing style than I usually use. Let me know what you guys think. I'm thinking about posting the next chapter sometime tomorrow. If not, I'll post it Tuesday or Wednesday. Please review!