Tom Collins was in trouble. Not the kind of trouble that was dished out by his father, or the teachers at school. He was in trouble. And for once in his life, he didn't know how to get out of it.
It was Collins' 18th birthday, and his friends from the football team had thrown a huge party for him. He was the first on the team to turn 18, and they wanted to make a big deal about it. Evan had gotten his older brother to supply them with enough beer to last them a week, and now the party was in full swing. Everyone was a little tipsy, including Collins, the music was loud and the couples were dancing.
If Collins were to admit it to himself, he was actually having a good time. The football team wasn't his favourite group of people – he'd only joined it because his father had forced him. Luckily, he happened to be good at it, and had quickly gained the respect of the other guys on the team.
And yet, he knew what was coming next. No one had specifically told him, but he'd heard rumblings and was smart enough to put it all together and realize that they had all chipped in to pay for a stripper for him. The thought made Collins squirm, and not with excitement or anticipation. He knew how he would be expected to react, and he also knew he wouldn't.
Collins had known for a long time that he didn't like girls the way he liked guys, but had never told anyone. He knew how they'd react; had seen the guys make jokes and tease each other in the locker room. They'd never stand for keeping Collins on the team if he told them. Sometimes, Collins wondered if that was such a bad thing – he didn't want to be on the team anyway, and nothing he did could convince his father to let him quit. He was too good and his father loved to tell his military buddies all about it. But if he was kicked off…
Collins' thoughts were interrupted when Evan shut off the music and began shouting for everyone to be quiet. He swallowed hard. This was it. He hadn't seen anyone arrive recently, certainly not a stripper, and felt a glimmer of hope that maybe he'd been wrong; maybe they hadn't gotten him one.
It quickly became obvious that Collins was wrong, and while that thought should have made him happy, it didn't. It made things worse. Much worse. In fact, listening to Evan explain what was going to happen, Collins actually began to wish they had gotten a stripper.
Andrea Carter was going to dance for him. Andrea Carter, who had slept with pretty much every guy on the football team. There were a few guys she hadn't gotten to yet, rookies that had just started this year. And Collins. Not for lack of trying, though. Andrea had had her sights on Collins for a long time, and he'd managed to deflect her advances until now. But now, he wasn't going to be able to stop this. Everyone was watching, and he had no valid reason to keep this from happening.
Except that you're gay! his mind screamed at him, but he tried to ignore it. He couldn't just go and announce that. Not here, in front of the whole team, and what seemed like half the senior class. He couldn't. Collins could feel himself begin to sweat, eyes darting around nervously, looking desperately for a way out but seeing none. Instead, what he saw was Andrea.
Andrea was dressed in possibly the tightest, shortest skirt Collins had ever seen. It was a light pink and barely covered her ass. Her long legs were accentuated by the ridiculously high heels she wore. Her shirt was little more than a piece of fabric wrapped around her breasts, her toned stomach exposed for all to see. Collins could see how the guys reacted to the outfit, nudging each other and whispering; wolfish, lecherous grins on their faces. And yet it had no effect on him. Quite the opposite: instead of being turned on by it, he was turned off. He tried to hide the expression of distaste that threatened to cross his features; he needed to play the part, needed to get this over with, and instead grinned up at her as she approached him.
If Andrea noticed his conflict, she showed no sign of it. Her smile grew wider and she nodded to Evan to start the music. Collins managed not to flinch as a decidedly raunchy-sounding song began to blast from the speakers. He placed his hands on his thighs, looking up at her, wondering how far she would take this.
Moving closer to Collins, Andrea began to sway her hips slowly to the music. She ran her hands through her hair, then down over her neck to her chest, pressing her breasts together and leaning forward toward Collins. It took everything in his power not to back away from her, to keep that grin plastered on his face, and when she finally stood back up, he let out the breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding. His eyes slid shut briefly and he took a deep breath, trying to settle his nerves.
A loud burst of cheering from the guys made him jump, and his eyes flew open in time to see Andrea, bent over at the waist, shaking her ass in his face, peering at him over her shoulder with a suggestive smirk on her face. Her tight skirt had ridden up, exposing her panties, much to the delight of the crowd of teenage boys watching her. Collins looked at them, then back at Andrea, and reached out to run his hand over the soft material of her panties. He knew it was what he was expected to do, and a part of him wished it was what he wanted to do – things would be so much easier for him if he could just feel that way about girls!
Taking Collins' touch as a sign to keep going with her tease, Andrea slipped into Collins' lap and wrapped her arms around his neck. She began kissing his neck, and Collins placed his hands lightly on her waist, fingers just brushing over her ass. He hoped she would take his ragged breathing as a sign that he was excited by what she was doing, and not that he was scared to death.
After kissing his neck for a moment, Andrea began grinding her hips against Collins', making his stomach flip. He closed his eyes again, just wanting this to be over, when suddenly, she stopped. Opening his eyes, he found Andrea's face just inches from his, looking at him curiously. He offered her a weak smile, asking, "Why'd you stop?"
Instead of answering, Andrea placed a hand on his chest, running it slowly downward, until she reached the waistband of his jeans. Collins' breath hitched in his throat when she didn't stop there. Quick as lightning, Andrea's hand moved lower, squeezing his cock. Collins tried to bat it away, but it was too late; Andrea was looking at him with a mixture of confusion and shock, and Collins knew that she knew.
They stared at each other for a long time, neither looking away nor saying a word. Andrea's dance was all but forgotten, and though the music continued to pulse through the room, Collins could barely hear it. He wanted to push Andrea off his lap, to run out of the house and onto the street and never stop. He wanted to get away from here.
"What's the deal?" Evan shouted over the music, breaking the uneasy stare as both of them jerked their heads around to see who had spoken. Evan was looking at Andrea like a lost puppy. Clearly he had been enjoying the show, and the abrupt halt had left him disappointed, wanting more.
Andrea looked back at Collins, her expression changing from confusion to disgust and she practically jumped off his lap, backing away from him and pointing an accusing finger at him.
"He's not even hard!" she announced, loud enough for the whole room to hear, and if it hadn't been for the music still playing, Collins knew the silence would have been deafening. All eyes were on him, some not quite understanding what she meant, others grasping her meaning right away, and Collins shrunk lower in his seat, praying he would disappear. But Andrea wasn't finished yet.
"What are you? A fag?" she demanded, "Can't get it up for a girl?" she sneered at him, eyes hard and scornful.
Collins stood, mouth working to form words, to deny what she was saying, but nothing came out. He looked around the room at his friends, who were all looking at him with expressions of shock or disgust, and he saw no compassion in any of them. He turned and nearly ran toward the door, the need to escape those looks overwhelming him.
Once out of the house, Collins began to run. He ran down the street, houses flying past him on either side, not looking back. He passed his own house, but couldn't stop running. The tears burned and his breath was ragged, but he never looked back.
