When John got back to the closet, he paced around for a couple of seconds and settled in. He assumed Vernon would come back to let him out eventually, and if he didn't, John had figured his own way out of the closet anyway. Suddenly, he heard the latch of the door click and tried to prepare himself for whatever Vernon had to throw at him. Just be cool, he thought to himself, don't let him see you flinch...again. The door started to open and John tilted his chin upwards, showing Vernon the man he truly was. But Claire walked in instead. John's eyes went wide.
"You lost?" he asked, quickly remembering his mocking tone that he had used all day when he spoke to her. Honestly, he was just hoping that she was there for what he thought she was there for. She had this smug little smile glued to her face as if she would never let him get to her, despite the fact that she had ditched detention to come to see him. She tilted her head and dropped her prim mask for a second. She's really doing this, thought John. He tried to swallow his smile, but she saw right past it. To John's delight, she smiled back, only this time it was genuine. Not an I-got-you smile, but an I'm-here-with-you smile. Almost before he could register what was happening, she was right up in front of him. Ever so lightly, she kissed his neck.
"Why'd you do that?" he questioned.
"Because I knew you wouldn't," she said with a smile. This time her top lip curled upward in a flirtatious snarl. She knew exactly what she was doing. That smile was beginning to grow on him. He didn't know if it was for forever or just that afternoon, but he just wanted to keep seeing that smile.
"Remember how you said your parents use you to get back at each other?" he asked. God, he hoped his next line would keep her smile going. "Wouldn't I be outstanding in that capacity?" Claire only stared. John drew a breath in, worried that he had missed the mark.
"Were you really disgusted about what I did with my lipstick?" she asked. She looked up at him with her big, dark brown eyes.
"Truth?" he dared her.
"Truth," she dared right back. Well, okay, he thought. He nodded his head yes.
"No," he smiled. She smiled back. Got her, thought John. But did he really? This was Claire fucking Standish. Prom queen. Rich little princess. What was she doing in a custodial closet with him? Again, she leaned in close.
"Over the bra," Claire whispered, "under the blouse, shoes off, hoping to God somebody doesn't walk in?" John could feel her breath hot on his ear. He took his hand that had been resting atop a stack of boxes and moved it to cradle the back of her head, his other hand wrapping around her waist. "Over the panties, no bra, blouse unbuttoned, Calvins in a ball…" she trailed off as his lips met hers.
Suddenly it didn't matter who she was. She was a girl, who was hot underneath all those designer clothes, and she was alone with him. His hands were all over her. And he was loving it. There was something about how she wouldn't just let him have her. Part of him didn't even care that she probably wasn't going to go all the way with him in this closet. Part of him did, of course, but he was so focused on the here and now of this moment that he wasn't paying attention to that part. Somewhat abruptly her mouth separated from his and she pulled him in close again.
"I'm not that pristine," she breathed, her heart rate elevated. John loved that he had gotten her heated. He saw white. He grabbed hold of her so tightly that for a second he worried he might crush her small frame. His mouth crashed into hers, and she kissed back passionately. He moved his hand from her waist to her breast, and she gasped.
"Shit!" his other hand balled into a fist as he yelled. This fucking princess was not about to make him stop after getting him so worked up. But all she did was pull him in closer. He loved the feel of her in his hands. She was so soft. Despite how intense he felt in that moment, he was surprised at how gentle he was with her. He found comfort in how gentle she was with him. Usually, his hookups were just there to get the job done, as it were, but he felt like Claire was here for him. Her delicate hands caressed his shoulders, his chest, and tangled themselves loosely in his hair.
Claire traced her hands lightly along his jawline and down his neck. She paused to tug at his shirt collar and pull him in closer, then resumed trailing downward. He was acutely aware of the fact that the only things between her fingers and his skin were a couple of layers of fabric. John's breath hitched when Claire's hands reached the waistband of his pants. He threw his head back as her fingers danced over to the button and fly and undid them deftly. Together they pulled his pants and boxers down below his ass. John moaned as Claire brushed her fingers across his hips and down to his dick. She began to stroke him lightly.
"Claire…" John trailed off, enjoying himself. Claire just raised an eyebrow at him. Fuck, who is this girl? thought John. Fucking prom princess couldn't have spent this much time under the bleachers, could she? She was driving him wild. If he had known that the girls involved in extracurriculars were like this, well fuck he might just join one. To John's surprise, Claire moved down to her knees. His eyes widened. Claire fucking Standish was going to give him a blowjob. In this storage closet. On school grounds. Holy shit. John smacked his hand over his mouth as she kissed his shaft.
She kissed down to the head of his dick and took him inside her mouth. Claire's mouth on his dick was the only thing John could think of at this point. As her tongue swirled around his glans, his breath quickened. She puckered her lips around him and took him in as far as she could. She then bobbed so that she was at the end of him again. She moved back and forth, swirling her tongue the whole time, and John was on another plane. He just couldn't believe this was really happening right now. He felt his legs tense and a familiar warmth in his lower abdomen. He braced himself against the filing cabinets behind him.
"Claire…" John growled. Was Claire Standish really about to let him come in her mouth? He felt like he should warn her. Does the fucking prom queen really let guys come in her mouth? She truly was driving him mad. His hands were balled into fists and he was moving to her rhythm. His knees were growing weak. "Claire, I-" John strained through his teeth. He really was trying to warn her, but she just kept going. She sucked harder and harder on his tip and he was seeing stars. "Fuck, Claire, I…" he panted, not knowing how much longer he could hold on. He didn't know why he was so concerned about this. Maybe it was that he knew the girls he was usually with would know when to pull away if they didn't want him to come while they were blowing him? But he didn't know anything about Claire anymore. At this point, it was inevitable that he was going to come and he would have to deal with the fallout. He briefly tried to convince himself that defiling the prom queen was something to be proud of, but he was mostly wrapped up in-oh fuck it didn't matter. He could barely think anymore.
"Claire, really, I-" he said through pants. She threw her arm up and hit him at the bottom of his breastbone. With how heavy he was breathing, John felt like she almost knocked the wind out of him. Claire smiled as she put her mouth on him again. John lost it at seeing her full, soft lips form that smile.
"Agh, Claire!" John yelled as he came. He came in her mouth and she swallowed. He pounded his fist on the top of the filing cabinet, reeling from the amazing blowjob he had just gotten from Claire fucking Standish. She looked up at him with her eyes wide. John could see fear in her eyes, glanced back at his fist, and relaxed it. Claire wiped the cum from her chin with her hand and stared at John. He reached down and grabbed her at her forearms to help her up.
She kept staring, unsure of what he would do, unsure of how he felt about what she had just done. What had she just done? She just gave a blowjob to a fucking burnout. For a moment, she regretted going into the closet in the first place. She came right to him. She could have just as easily waited out detention in the library with everyone else and everything could have been normal. No, she thought, she couldn't have. Because in the library, all she could think about was his head between her legs, his breath hot on her skin.
John finally caught his breath and leaned back, smiling and inhaling through his teeth. The tension that she didn't even realize she was holding released from Claire's shoulders, and she smiled too. John watched her tuck her blouse back into her skirt and adjust everything back to the way it had been before. Like she had never been in the closet at all. He smoothed a strand of her hair back into place, and she looked up at him.
"See you Monday?" Clair offered. John nodded with a small smirk. There was an uneasiness in Claire's voice that was replicated in John's eyes. Neither of them knew what would happen on Monday, and John resented her a bit for bringing it up and pulling him from the post-sex glow he had been feeling. Claire put her hand on his shoulder and twirled a lock of his hair in her hand. She looked up from her hand and back into his eyes. She couldn't offer any more reassurance and her face fell. She turned to leave, her hand falling back at her side. She crossed her arms over her chest as she headed for the door. Just as she put her hand on the doorknob, John called her back.
"Claire?" he said. His voice was soft and composed. Claire knew he was as unsure as she was, but sensed that he could mask that feeling in his voice well. She turned and rested her back against the door, her hand still on the doorknob. "See you Monday," John said with a grin.
Claire beamed back at him but shook her head down so he couldn't see how happy that had made her. She looked up at him again and gave him one last smile before she snuck out the door. It clicked quietly shut and John sighed, running a hand through his hair. None of his friends would believe him if he told them what happened. Hell, even he couldn't believe what had happened. All he could do was sit back and wait to be released from his storage closet prison. And wait for fucking Monday, John thought.