That night was worse than any other night. She could not fall asleep. She kept thinking of John and the party, and Friday could not come soon enough. If she could have forced herself to sleep, she would have, -right away.
The plan with her parents had worked out fine. Claire had never skipped school before, but when it came to lying to her parents she was no novice. Stating illness had been the best plan, it allowed her to fully be by herself with no calls and no questions. Only her mom had come up with two sandwiches for dinner.
Unable to sleep Claire was lying on her bed with her walk-man, listening to a tape of pop chart hits that she had recorded from the radio. She was wondering what John would listen to. She had a feeling it would not be the same as her. It dawned on her that she hardly knew anything about John.
She knew he had older friends, that he smoked weed, drank beer, and had a messed up home situation. That was about it. Yet she felt she knew him. She knew he acted tougher than he actually was, but she also knew he was tough. He had a sensitive side, but he could choose to conceal it. He had an element of darkness, and she was afraid that he would lose control and do something bad. She sensed that he was capable of bad, but she also sensed that he was capable of restraining himself, and she did not know which part of him to trust.
She knew he would never intentionally hurt her, she was sure of that, and he would protect her no matter what. He certainly was capable of protecting her. In a wild forest John would be the wildest beast. Would he ever hurt her? Her gut feeling told her he would, but she could not see how.
Then again, she had a strange feeling that it might be worth it.
In the dark of her bedroom her thoughts went back to John and her in the men's room; the cold wall against her back, his hand lifting her knee. She could feel his bulge pressed against her, feel the need to have him closer, to have him inside.
Safe in her room, on the covers of her bed, Claire pulled up her knees and spread her legs. She pictured John on top of her, breathing heavy and moaning into her ear. In her thoughts he had unbuttoned his pants and pulled her white cotton underwear to the side. He would enter her, and they would have that same rhythm they had in the men's room.
They would move faster and faster, and this time he would not pull away. She imagined how tight he would hold her, how heavy he would feel on top of her, what he would sound like when he came, how his body would jerk...
A load moan escaped her lips. It pierced right through the music in her ears, and she sat up with a jolt. She pulled off her headphones, listening for her parents' footsteps.
They didn't come. The house was quiet in the night. She curled up into a ball in embarrassment, and pulled the covers over her. She would not see John at the party tomorrow. If she saw him or his loser friends she would simply walk the other way. He would not do this to her.
The next day at school Claire did not see John anywhere. Part of her was disappointed and part of her felt relieved.
Even though she had so little sleep last night, she did not look tired. Instead she had a glow to her that made her friends make comments. Some thought she still had a fever after she had been ill, some just complimented her for her good looks. Some asked if she had changed her blusher or her foundation. Only one of the girls asked if she had met a boy, but Claire had just shook her head and smiled, and said she probably just had a really good night's sleep.
She was not ready to share anything about how she felt. She could not explain it, she could not defend it, and she certainly did not dare to tell a single soul that the boy she liked was John Bender. It would be social suicide.
She felt sick to her stomach at what she had done yesterday, at how she had behaved. She could hardly believe her own thoughts and fantasies. She was grateful she did not see John at school, yet she could not make herself stop looking for him. Was she under a spell, some kind of curse?
At home that afternoon, picking out what outfit to wear for the party while listening to the radio, she could not stop thinking of John. She was determined not to see him, yet whenever she looked at a garment her thoughts wondered to what he would think of it; if he would like it on her.
She imagined him sitting on her bed, looking at her as she changed outfits in front of him. He would smile and flirt, and his eyes would get that sweater look he sometimes had when he looked at her. She would act cute and coy, and change before him without him seeing anything more than what was proper; like the good girl she was.
Suddenly the embrace in the men's room flashed before her eyes. It shook her and left her breathless.
Claire sat down on her white fluffy stool in front of her make-up table. She took off her top and stared at herself in the mirror. Slowly she opened the top drawer and took out a scarlet red lipstick. She put it on, smacked her lips and pouted at her image.
On the mirror there were several plastic beads necklaces hanging. She took them down and draped them over her bare décolleté. She let her hands sensually caress her face and torso as she contemplated her own image.
"John" she murmured and let the beads play across her bra.
On the radio Madonna's Crazy for You was playing, and she turned up the volume as she moved suggestively in front of the mirror.
Pretending that it was John looking at her; she slowly removed her bra and let the beads touch her nipples. Mesmerized with the sight at how they contracted from the touch of the beads; she almost jumped when the radio host disrupted her trance and announced the next song. It made her laugh out loud, embarrassed but excited.
Claire removed the lipstick and the beads. She put on her prettiest underwear, a knee long skirt, a boat neck blouse and her favorite boots. She was ready for the party. She was ready for John.
Her stomach was invaded by butterflies.
It was the biggest party she had ever attended. There were people everywhere. The music was pumping out of big speakers on the floor, and there were two guys with sunglasses who acted as DJs and took requests and made sure the music played without stop.
It was a big two story house. People were dancing on the living room floor, making out on the couch, sitting in the staircase, talking in the kitchen area, standing everywhere, -and everywhere you could hear people talking, laughing, screaming and shouting.
Claire and her group of friends had been handed a plastic cup each with something red and sticky as soon as they stepped over the threshold. They were among the youngest there, and Claire felt wide eyed and thrilled at everything she saw. Behind the glass doors to the second living room she could see more people dancing, and apparently there were even more people upstairs from what she had been told.
Claire did not normally drink, but she was sipping the red sweet and sticky stuff in her plastic cup with her friends. When Maniac came on all her friends screamed and rushed her off to the dance floor.
She was really enjoying herself. She and her friends looked great and they had all the right moves on the dance floor. They were looking at cute guys and laughing. Claire was only going along pretending to be looking. Instead she was constantly on the lookout for John. She was also scouting for his friends; if she could see them that meant that John was probably not too far away. The problem was that apart from the two guys she had seen at school the other day, she didn't know who John was hanging with.
She made sure she was careful not to make it obvious that she was looking for anyone in particular, still just the thought of seeing John made her butterflies break out a riot in her stomach.
As the night progressed and still no sight of John or his two friends, she started to get a little restless. She had a curfew; she had never mentioned that to him, as curfews were taken for granted. However he did probably not have a curfew, and that was probably also taken for granted.
So what if he showed up too late and she had gone home? What if they didn't meet at all?
A wave of disappointment so strong she had never felt anything remotely like it washed over her. The mere thought of not seeing John made her body feel numb and her heart go cold.
At that moment he walked in the door.
He was greeted by a bunch of guys. They were throwing high-fives in the air and punching each other in the shoulders. John was immediately given a beer; he already had one in his hand and finished it in one go.
Claire was taken aback at how naturally John blended into the crowd. She had not seen him blend in anywhere before. This was apparently more his scene than it was hers; here he was among his peers. The sight was far from what she had expected, neither had she known that John knew these people.
She was invited by friends of friends, could John have been invited directly, and not by her?
All at once she could not help but noticing how this really wasn't her crowd. If it hadn't been for her friends she would have been somewhere else. John and she were attending the same party for the first time, yet she felt they could not have been further apart.
Claire headed for the door. She had decided she would walk straight past John and ignore him. She wanted to go home. Abruptly she felt a hand on her arm; it was one of her girlfriends asking where she was going. Claire panicked and said she had to go to the bathroom, and headed upstairs.
The second floor was a long hallway with many rooms, but all the doors were closed. To the left was the bathroom, and to the right the hallway ended in an open door to the balcony.
The bathroom was occupied. Claire felt she had to get away, and she tried one of the closed doors. It led to a study.
"Claire."
She froze in the doorway and turned around. John was standing at the top of the stairs. He had a cheeky look in his eyes, and gave her a crooked smile. Then he turned his head and looked downstairs.
"Someone's coming."
He quickly walked over to her and closed the door behind them. They leaned on the door listening for a small crowd of people coming up the stairs. They could hear them talking, but they could not make out what they were saying or recognize any of their voices.
"What if they're coming in here?" Claire whispered.
At the same time they both looked down at the door, but the door had no lock. They looked up at each other.
"We'll just hold the door." John whispered back.
He leaned heavy on the door. Claire joined in. She was holding her breath.
This time she wasn't doing anything bad yet it would be the end of her if anyone found them together behind a closed door upstairs at a party. The entire school would relish in it. People who didn't even know her would know about this.
John took a sip of his beer and offered her some. She shook her head.
"If any occasion is a good one for beer, trust me, it's this one."
She took a sip. It tasted bitter, but delightfully cold.
"How many have you had?" she asked.
"This is my second."
A puzzled expression came over his face as he looked at her.
"Did you think I would drink a lot of beer when I was going to meet you?"
The people outside the door were leaving; they could hear their voices fade as they walked back downstairs. John was holding his breath listening attentively to the last of the voices.
Then he looked at her.
