OK, I promise that when I started to think up this story, I wanted it to just be a one-shot, but now it's way too long. It'll probably be at least 5 chapters now. Oh well, that's just more for you to read!

Part 2 - Bodies

Peter feels like he's flying.

He loves this part of skating, when he goes really fast doing crossovers, letting his blades rip the ice making that steady shu-rook, shu-rook, shu-rook sound. Mostly he loves the way the girls eye him as he passes them, pivoting on his hockey skates to toss them a smile, showing off. He loves the attention – they way they giggle, blushing and whispering "Oh my God, he's so cute!" to each other as they hold hands in groups, fumbling their way across the ice together. He's lost a lot of weight in his recent growth spurt, so he enjoys the way girls are reacting to him in ways they didn't before.

He's had this part-time job for a while now. It's not bad. He spends most of his time doing rounds on the ice and getting skates for cute girls. The private training sessions for the figure skaters are the best. He and the other guys working there have nothing to do, so they lean against the boards and watch the girls go by, twirling in those tight leotards that make Peter's hormone-ravaged head spin. The girls don't mind. They like the attention as much as anyone else. If anything, it's the coaches that will shoo them away.

Tonight, it's just a general session, so Peter skates around making sure all is well. He hears someone call his name and sees his friend Marcus at the boards, waving him over. Peter skates to him. Marcus is older, maybe 17, and is into a lot of bad stuff. But Peter doesn't really care, because Marcus is always looking out for him, dragging him on some late-night crime-fuelled adventure. Neither of them have fathers around, so on the rare occasion that Marcus stoned enough to manage deep and meaningful conversation, Peter's found common ground with him that he hasn't found anywhere else.

"Hey, man," Marcus says, grinning.

"Hey. What are you so happy about?" Peter laughs.

"I got laid last night," he brags, but shrugs like it's nothing. Like he does it 50 times a day.

"Good for you. Does your ass still hurt?" Peter jokes.

That comment earns him a sharp smack on the back of the head, but Marcus laughs along. Then he describes the night before. In vivid detail. Peter hangs off of every word, though he assumes Marcus is exaggerating, even if it's just a little bit. Peter knows the girl he's talking about, too. She's two grades above him at school, but Peter's smart enough to take the same science and maths classes. She's got tits the size of Texas, flawless mocha skin, a pretty smile and always shows off her bare legs in mini-skirts, even if it's cold. The word around school is that she gives unbelievable head. Peter knows this girl is way out of his league, and feels a pang of jealousy towards his friend. He'd kill to be half as cool as Marcus one day.

Marcus finishes his recount and smirks. "So Pete, you fucked anyone yet?"

At first, Peter thinks he's joking and laughs nervously. But then he remembers that this isn't the sheltered, suburban neighbourhood he grew up in. He lives in the inner city now. Things are edgier here. Gritter. In these parts, you grow up quick.

"Yeah," he says simply, shrugging.

But Marcus laughs at the lie. "No you haven't," he says, seeing right through him. "How old are you anyway?"

"Fourteen."

"Fourteen," Marcus repeats. "You gotta start fucking when you're fourteen, man. It's like a rule or something."

Peter swallows. Nods. He doesn't really know what to say to that.

"You doing anything tonight?" Marcus asks.

"Nah."

"Meet me out back after work, I wanna take you somewhere."

"Alright," Peter says, but he's not sure why he agrees. Probably because all of Marcus' stories sound so adventurous, and he wants to start making cool stories of his own.

After Peter finishes his shift, he helps Marcus steal a car. Rain bleeds down the windows as drive further into the city. Marcus offers Peter a cigarette and he takes it. He doesn't particularly like the taste, but he loves to lie back and watch the smoke roll out of his mouth like the waves in Chinese ink paintings.

They meet up with some of their friends outside a strip club. Peter's driven past them before, but he's never actually made it inside. Marcus and the others have to hassle the bouncer to let Peter in, since he's younger than the rest of them. It seems ridiculous to Peter that he can't get into a club like this after all the shit he's been doing with the guys. What's even more absurd is that he has to go to school the next day.

Eventually they get in. Peter's eyes go wide. It's just like in the movies, but sleazier. The seedy middle-aged alcoholics ogling at the girls are slightly disturbing, but Peter ignores them. He only has eyes for the women on stage. He's never seen so many practically naked girls like this in the flesh before, and it's fascinating.

Marcus' friends find a set of couches to sit on, and before long they're knocking back shots, and Tommy's teaching Peter about the best way to do the salt-tequila-lemon combo off a girl's body. They guys laugh and comment to each other on each of the dancers, evaluating every single aspect of their bodies. Peter mostly sits back quietly and takes it in, or nods in agreement. He's literally speechless. It's a lot to adjust to, and he's terrified of embarrassing himself like a stupid kid in front of these older guys.

A dancer leans over their table to pour them more shots, and it isn't until her bare breasts are practically dangling in Peter's face that he almost loses it. He's painfully hard by this point, and his biggest fear is that he'll come in his pants or do something equally mortifying. Noticing his wide eyes, Marcus slaps him only the shoulder encouragingly. "Having fun, buddy?" he laughs. Then he turns to the dancer and hands her some cash. "Show this one a good time for me, sweetheart," he says to her, pushing Peter in her direction.

The dancer takes Peter's hand and pulls him away from his friends, but he backs away. "What? No!" he exclaims in surprise. He knew being here with the guys was stupid, but he never thought it'd go this far. "It's alright," he says to the dancer. "You don't have to. It's fine."

"What's the matter, Bishop, you a fag or something? Do you even know what to do with her?" Sean laughs.

"I'm not a fucking faggot!" he snaps angrily. As a 14 year old guy, it's just about the worst thing anyone can call him. The only thing more insulting would be to say he was just like his father.

"For fuck's sake, relax, Pete. You've gotta do it sometime," Marcus says. "She's good, trust me. Just have fun. You can thank me later."

"Yeah, Bishop, be a fucking man for once."

Before he knows it, he's being pressured by the whole group, and he wonders why the hell these guys are his friends. That topless dancer is still tugging deliciously on his hand. Her thumb traces a light circle on his palm. It's getting too hard to say no. Part of him wants to go with this girl, but it feels wrong. She can hardly be called a girl. This woman's double his age, at least.

That being said, he doesn't want to look like an idiot in front of his friends either. So he lets them all push him down the corridor at the back of the club to one of the rooms down there. Peter swallows. This isn't what he thought it would be at all. He expected this sort of thing to be glamorous or exciting in some way but instead he just finds it sleazy and kind of sad.

Before he knows it, the door is closed and it's just the two of them. There's not much in the room. A couple of couches, a fridge. It must be an employee common room or something. It's grimy, and smells like stale cigarette smoke, alcohol and sex. The paint's peeling near the ceiling and a cockroach scurries away in the corner. It's cold.

Aroused? Sex is the last thing on his mind now. He can't possibly do anything with a woman twice his age in a place as filthy as this.

She locks the door.

He's overwhelmed by nerves. He can't look at her. She laughs at him and that only makes him feel worse. "Relax, kid. You want a beer or something?"

His stomach clenches at her words as he is reminded that, despite all his pretending, he is, after all, just a kid. He doesn't belong in a place like this, where seedy men old enough to be his father, probably married with kids, drink themselves stupid and treat the girls like dirt. Peter admittedly enjoyed looking, and he messes around a little with girls at school, but his blood doesn't run this kind of cold.

"We don't have to do anything," he mumbles, staring at his shoes. "You can put a shirt on or whatever. If you want."

Clearly she wasn't expecting him to say that, because she doesn't say or do anything.

"I'll pay you for the time," he assures her. "But you don't have to do anything."

He feels like a fucking idiot. She's hot, practically naked and willing, and he's saying no? Any other guy his age would kill for this opportunity. His hormones are screaming at him to just do it already. But inside he feels sick, and embarrassed. This isn't what he wants at all. Not really.

Without saying anything, she looks for an item of clothing and finds a t-shirt lying around, slipping in over her bare chest. It falls over her underwear, about mid-thigh, so it looks like she's wearing nothing underneath. Then she hands him a Coke from the fridge.

"Nah, I don't want anything," he reminds her.

She shrugs and hands it to him anyway. "It'll pass the time. If you go back to your friends now, they'll know you chickened out," she teases.

By now, his face is red with embarrassment. He looks anywhere but at her.

"Don't worry about it," she tells him, taking a seat on the couch. "It happens all the time."

"Really?" he scoffs.

"You'd be surprised."

That makes him wonder how many others have been in this room, fumbling over their words and handing her a handful of cash for doing absolutely nothing. It also makes him wonder what she's had to do for the guys who actually want their money's worth. He feels sorry for her.

He sips his Coke pensively, trying to calm his nerves. He knows his friends are waiting outside for him, ready to ask him for every detail. "What are they gonna think we did?"

"Marc gave me enough money for a fuck."

The way that she says that so carelessly makes him cringe a little on the inside. It's odd to hear a price tag attached to sex. It's even stranger to think that you could put a price on her. In that moment, his respect for Marcus takes a nosedive.

But he has to ask. "Do you think they'd believe we really did it?"

She smirks. "Is that what you're going to tell them?"

"Probably," he admits. "If I can get away with it."

"You can get away with any lie if you make it believable enough."

"Any advice then?" he asks. "For when I go back out there?"

She smirks, and he realises she has a really pretty smile. Kind. Subtle. Then she leans over and ruffles his hair a bit, tugging on his clothes so they seem suspiciously dishevelled. He knows he's trying to respect this woman, but he can't help but shudder at the feel of her hands on him. Pulling back, she eyes her work and nods. "That'd help," she says. "Just keep that dumbstruck look on your face, that's the main thing."

He chuckles, still embarrassed. "Thanks."

"You're a real good looking kid, you know," she says, running her hand through his hair again. "You don't really need to be here. You could probably find a girl your own age just fine."

"I know. I don't like it here," he admits.

"Neither do I."

"Then why do you work here?"

She shrugs. "Pays the bills. I got a kid, so…"

"Right," Peter says. "Boy or girl?"

"Boy." Her face lights up a little when she says it. Peter can't help but smile back. The gleam in her eyes is infectious and sweet. Something tells him so many men stare at her body on a daily basis that nobody's ever actually looked this woman in the eyes for a long time.

"Does he know what you do?" he asked curiously.

"He's 18 months old," she explained. "He doesn't really know much of anything yet. I'm saving though, so I can move to a better job before he gets older. Problem is, I earn more here in a night than most of my friends do in a week at their jobs. The money's too good here for me to give it up right now."

"Fair enough," he says, nodding.

She checks her watch. "You shouldn't stay too long," she says. "You're just a kid so you would have been quick."

He blushes some more and stares at the ground. "Thanks."

"No problem. Just do me a favour and tell them I rocked your goddamn world, alright?" she jokes.

"Of course," he laughs along. "Best I ever had." Then he looks into her eyes again. He's grateful she hasn't made him feel like a total idiot. She seems like such a nice person. In a way he feels privileged, like he's seeing a part of her nobody else in this club will ever see. Like he's not just seeing her body – he's seeing her. He'll probably never look at a stripper the same way again after this.

Also, if he's going to tell all his friends he slept with her, he needs to know one more thing. "What's your name?" he asks.

"Candy."

"You're real one."

She smirks a little, runs a hand through her hair. "Alice."

He smiles. She looks like an Alice. The name had a deceiving innocence. He shakes her hand courteously. "It's been nice knowing you, Alice."

"You too," she laughs. "Listen, don't let those guys push you around. And make sure you find yourself a nice girl your own age at school, alright?"

"Alright," he laughs.

He gets out his wallet.

"Don't worry," she says. "Marcus already paid me."

He shakes his head. "For your son," he says, handing her more money. Lots of it. "Buy him something nice. Or take him out. Do something together. I dunno. Whatever."

For a moment, he thinks he sees tears in her eyes, but she blinks them away. There's a subtle look of shame in her face, and he knows needs the money too much to proudly refuse his charity. "Thank you," she says emphatically, and he just nods in acknowledgement. Stepping closer, gives him a gentle kiss on the cheek and hugs him. He hugs her back. She's all soft, and he can't help but shiver at the feel of her half-naked body pressed against his. Nonetheless, that embrace and kiss isn't cheap – it's affectionate and purposeful and full of gratitude – and when she pulls back, he sees that her smile is worth more than anything else she could have done for him in that room.

Please leave a review! It would definitely cheer my up through my exam study, haha

Coming up next, Peter's first serious girlfriend…