Chapter 3 –
Rachel scrambled to get her skirt and underwear up as Quinn stood, from the middle of the seats to scurry away. It was harder than it looked to get away with her things in tow and the narrow aisle was a hindrance. Berry was rapidly catching up to her and just as she reached the doors, grabbed hold of her shirt, pulling her backwards.
Quinn turned to tell her off, but Rachel's hand was on her mouth. It was shaking and sweaty as Rachel hissed, "Shut up!" She felt her back being pressed against the door, trapped between it and the smaller girl. Quinn tried to push her, to buck her off, but the brunette didn't budge.
The bell rang over them, loud and clear. There was a stampede of feet. She could hear the raucous calls of the teenage boys and the catty remarks from girls. The hand on her mouth felt even warmer when someone tried to open the door and then called, "Practice must be cancelled. Anyone wanna go to McDonalds?"
There was a murmur and more feet trooped away.
They must have been standing there for twenty minutes, in that same position before the halls cleared. Rachel took her hand away and immediately said, "You can't tell anyone."
Quinn's eyes narrowed, "You don't tell me what I can and can't do, McPervert."
Tranny's mouth quivered a little before she said, "If anyone is the pervert here, it's you." Her voice grew more self-assured and forceful as she continued, "After all, I'm not the one that sat through a full hour of singing and dancing from the school loser, when I called out loud specifically to see if there was anyone here."
Quinn's hands drew into fists, "I didn't know you were going to fondle yourself, Man Hands! What kind of freak are you?"
Her answer was rapid fire and loud, her face flushed, "The kind of freak who knows that you're a freak!"
The blonde's stomach dropped and she hissed, "You take that back."
Rachel squared her shoulders, and yelled, so loud Quinn almost felt like she was hearing the wrath of God from above, "No! You think I'm blind or something, Fabray?" She makes her last name sound like a dirty word, like the worst type of voodoo. "I feel you watching me; I know you're watching me! I try to be nice, and you throw it right back in my face! I try to not pay you any attention, you come looking for me! What, you get some sick kick out of fucking with me? What do I need to do to get you to leave me alone, to get on my knees and fuck you?"
Her face was even darker now, even her plump mouth a more sultry red, her chest was heaving and she was still directly in front of Quinn. The image came unbidden; Rachel on her knees, dark hair threaded in her pale hands, lapping her to orgasm. And Quinn had never been more hot and wet ever, not that she knew, so it wasn't really her fault when she whispered, "God, yes. Do that and you'll never hear from me again."
The brunette dropped to her knees after a moment, and said, "That better not be a lie, Quinn. This floor is extremely unsanitary."
Quinn ignored her because of course it was a lie, how naïve was this girl, and unzipped the back of her skirt to hike it up further, bunching it around her waist. Berry pulled her underwear down, until it was around her ankles and Quinn pulled a foot through and then squeaked when Berry lifted her right leg and put it around her shoulder, saying, "Shhh."
Her tongue was warmer than the cheerleader expected, warmer than the hands on her hips as it slipped along her outer lips. She did this for several moments before flicking her tongue upwards and to Quinn's clit. She slid her tongue inside her lips, and rubbed it along her folds, gathering her arousal like morning dew. It took Quinn a few minutes to realize that Berry was experimenting, to see what she would like and getting used to her… intimate area. It was only now that she felt a modicum of embarrassment; what if she tasted bad? What if she looked funny? What if she wasn't aroused enough for this to be comfortable?
Berry withdrew her head from between her legs and gave Quinn a glare, "Would you please relax? I'm nervous enough without you withdrawing like that."
The blonde swallowed, "Right." She added, "Sorry."
Rachel put her mouth back and started to lick more enthusiastically. Quinn did as she was told and relaxed, hooking her leg further around the brunette. It had the added benefit of pressing the small girl closer, practically suffocating her. She had to close her eyes because she felt overwhelmed with all the new sensations. If her first time had been like this, she didn't remember and didn't want to. It was Man Hands, who no one could deny was going to go places, not Puck, the Lima Loser, who was steadily bringing her to something, something wild and unexplainable.
She'd never touched herself, not even after her dreams, so she wasn't familiar with the tightening of her abdominal muscles, of her labored breathing, of the way her well-trained tool would disobey her in the most delectable way. But what she was aware of was the sound of her cross across the gold chain as she moved her head, and the sudden awareness that God was watching her. God was watching her get her intimates licked by the Jewish daughter of a gay couple. And then, after a few seconds, she wasn't thinking of anything.
When the cheerleader managed to open her eyes again, Tranny was still lapping gently, and she made a small noise before unhooking her leg and pushing at her head. She was too sensitive down there for any more. Stubble's stood up straight. Her mouth was shiny, even in the low lights, and her eyes were half-lidded and content looking. Quinn hesitated before grasping her shoulders, pulling her closer and kissing her. The smaller girl's mouth was still, just for a moment, before she kissed her back.
Her lips were impossibly soft and Quinn could feel the little puffs of her breath on the side of her face as she breathed through her nose. She made a small noise before pressing her lips against the other girl with a little more force. Something like a sparkle shot through her and made her lashes flutter before she opened them again. Tranny's eyes were closed. Her eyes traced the side of the smaller girl's face, drinking in her features, marred only by her furrowed brow. Quinn held her breath because otherwise she felt like she would hyperventilate. The brunette withdrew first and opened her eyes to look at the cheerleader. Their eyes connected and the Jewish girl leaned forwards. At first, the blonde thought she was going to kiss her again, before she angled her head so she was by her ear and said, "I hope you enjoyed it. Never again, Fabray."
The brunette turned and headed to the stage again, where she rolled her book bag to the other exit, on the back side of the auditorium, which led right to the back lot of the school. Quinn closed her eyes and sucked in a deep breath of artificially cooled air. Her lips tingled, still, and she found herself smiling as she pulled her underwear on.
The next day, she threw a cherry slushy into Berry's face in the middle of lunch. Her jaw gaped open and then shut. The brunette gave her a look that even Sue Sylvester couldn't manage and stormed off. It was the first ever diva storm-off and it was all recorded on that creep Jacob Ben Israel's phone because it had such a nice view of Rachel's ass. Quinn never told anyone how once she was home she played the video over and over again, wondering why she'd done it instead of speaking to her. When the answers didn't come, she turned the computer off and crawled into her bed even though it was only five o'clock. She was tired and needed the rest.
When she woke up, it was six thirty and her mother was shaking her shoulders. "Quinnie, dear," She said, "I know that Coach Sylvester works you hard, but you need to wash up for dinner."
She gave a tremendous yawn, covered by her hand of course, and said, "Yes, mom. I'll be down in a little."
Her mother pecked her on the forehead and made sure to close the door on the way out. Quinn rubbed at her eyes and rolled out of bed to stand directly in front of her bedroom mirror. She stood up straight and flattened her shirt over her stomach. She wondered what she would look like in nine months and slammed her eyes shut. There was no need to think like that; she wasn't even sure if she was pregnant. Google wasn't the most reliable source and it was most likely stress. Or, or even a hysterical pregnancy. She'd heard about those and those weird women who would fake it for months, even years sometimes, pretending to have miscarriage after miscarriage in order to avoid suspicion. She'd just been having a hard time that was all.
Quinn went to the bathroom and washed her hands for the thirty seconds required. She dried her hands and looked at her face, squinting in the bad light of the bathroom. Her vanity was much better illuminated, but that was just being vain. This was sufficient for now. Bags were starting to show under her eyes even though she'd been sleeping more now than ever and she'd felt the lack of rest in Cheerio's today, even if she hadn't let it show. There was a large, red pimple on her chin and she scowled. Wasn't Clearasil supposed to keep those from showing up?
The cheerleader turned all the lights on from the bathroom to the dining room because her father didn't like the dark and was more than satisfied with the high electric bill, which probably explained her fear of the dark. Her mother was much more lax about it and never scolded her if dad was out of town. She took her seat to the left of her father and made appropriate noises when the food was brought out. At the scent of it, she was suddenly starving. She fidgeted a little as her father took his sweet time cutting up the rack of lamb, selecting the choicest morsels, and then spooned a heaping amount of mashed potatoes and string beans to the side. When all their plates had food on them, they held hands and her father's deep voice prayed.
"Lord, thank You for the bounty and blessing we are about to receive. We thank You for putting food on our tables and in our stomachs when there are many who have none. We thank You for supplying us with shelter, with clothes, with my job at the company, with fair faces made in Your image, with peaceful, God-fearing neighbors."
He went on and on until Quinn thought her head would explode and her stomach would shrink. It was obvious he'd had a good day at work. Wouldn't a simple, "Thank you Jesus for this meal, amen," Suffice? She glanced at her mother and bit back a snicker to see that her left hand was occupied with a crossword puzzle. When she saw she was looking, Judy winked and then put the puzzle to the side now that he was winding down.
"And we thank You most of all, Lord, for your son Jesus Christ and how he died for our sins. Amen."
Quinn's agreement with that statement might have been a little loud, but her father didn't notice. Her mother finished her dainty portion first and excused herself to start on the dishes. Her father had seconds, finished his wine and then ambled away to find a decanter of scotch before Glen Beck started. Russell ignored her except to pat her head and say, "Don't eat too much, Quinnie."
She didn't eat too much. Ms. Sylvester would kill her if she found out that she'd partaken in fatty, filling food like this and the other girls' would die from jealousy. Most of their mothers' had jobs and didn't have the luxury of cooking a whole meal from scratch while sipping from the sherry and laughing at soap operas. Quinn picked at the last of the food on her plate listlessly, trying not to think of anything, for another five minutes before gathering her plate and her father's to give to her mother.
Judy smiled and kissed her cheek as she took them, "Thank you, Quinnie."
It was only after her mother turned around to keep washing the dishes that she wrapped her arms around her waist from behind and placed her head on her shoulder blade. She breathed in deeply, inhaling her and murmured, "Love you, mommy."
Judy hummed and said, "Love you too, Quinn." She sounded sincere, but distracted. Quinn let go and swallowed sadness down. Emotions like that were what the devil preyed on and prayed for. She kissed Russell's cheek with a quiet, "G'night, dad. Love you."
He patted her absentmindedly, not responding. It was only after she'd gone up most of the stairs that he called out, "Has Frannie called lately?"
"No, sir," She responded. It was the truth. She and Frannie were close by force and not by choice. They had very different personalities underneath the drive to win.
He grunted, "Must be that boy. Kinda surname's Ramses anyways. Never even heard of it."
Quinn didn't respond, but did go up the rest of the stairs. She looked through her book case and finally took down Interview With A Vampire. Her father had bought her the collection a few years ago, saying, "If you're going to read Godless literature like all those other kids, at least read good Godless books." It took her three months to realize he was talking about the Twilight series. She'd never read them, but some inane stories sounded nice. Quinn read about half of the book before pulling away to rub at her eyes. It was almost ten.
She took a shower and, in the foggy mirror, stared at her distorted image. She was perfect, wasn't she? Her eyes weren't blue, but that was irrelevant. She was blonde, borderline dishwater, she was pale, her figure was athletic but there were curves. She was the perfect cheerleader and Sue Sylvester's protégé. She had a nice boyfriend, even if he was a little grabby, with a sweet smile. She had boys flocking over her and girls aching to be her. And one stupid party could change everything. One stupid fight with a stupid boy about a stupid word and her entire world could crumble into dust.
She placed her hands on her flat stomach and tried to imagine a life in there, a little heartbeat. She stroked the skin there and turned to brush her teeth. When she spit the foam out, there were little pink flecks. Quinn rinsed the sink, pulled on her lavender pajamas and got on her knees to pray. When she was still little, the entire family would pray together. It had been comforting, then, to sit between her parents and sister and just feel. By the time she was in the third grade, her sister had left to pray on her own and her parents had determined she was old enough to do it herself. She'd never missed a night except for the four day stomach flu in seventh grade and the night of her sin.
"Dear God," She whispered. She couldn't think of more than that, at least at first. He knew what she had done, what had happened that night even if she didn't. So she closed her eyes again and said, slowly at first, then faster, just blathering on, hoping for a speck of mercy and the release of her guilt, "Dear God, please don't let me be pregnant. My parents would throw me out or make me get an abortion. Finn would know I cheated on him and that would hurt him, would hurt him more than anything. Puck shouldn't be allowed to pass his genes on with an animal, let alone me. Everything would get so screwed up. I'd be an unfit mother, more concerned with myself than a baby."
There was the gentle creak of floorboards near her door. She stood and opened the door to see her mother by the stair case. Quinn swallowed dryly, and called, "Mom?" Her voice was creaky, like an old door.
Her mother turned. She had a bright smile on her face and said, "Quinnie, I forgot to tell you, next Saturday we get you measured for the Chastity Ball. We're going to Gretchen's, and you know how packed it normally is, so be up by eight, alright?"
Quinn nodded and watched as her mother's eyes flickered to her stomach before turning around for her bedroom. She cleared her throat, "Mom?"
Judy looked back and said, "Yes, dear?"
"I love you," She replied. Her mother gave her a tight smile and continued walking. Quinn stood at her doorway, waiting for her to turn back around, but she didn't. She stayed there until she heard the snick of the door closing and the click of the door locking.
The blonde girl turned back to her room and flicked the light switch, plunging the room into darkness. She got on her knees by the bed again but couldn't force her mouth to open and finish the prayer she'd started. So instead, she said the prayer from her childhood, "God bless my mommy, God bless my daddy, God bless my sister, God bless all the people in the world, and God bless me. Amen."
She crawled into bed and pulled them over her head, reveling in the scent of laundry detergent and spices. She dreamed of a little blonde girl with dirty knees and a gap-toothed smile that kept running backwards until she couldn't see her, that night. When she woke up, she didn't remember what it was about, but there were tears in her eyes.