BIG WARNING! No, there is not a sex scene. Lol. This chapter contains numerous mature sexual innuendo. And Derek and Casey are downright nasty to each other. Here's where it gets a heap of dark hella fast. Just warnin' ya. This chapter is also probably freakishly long. Deal with it. Lol, that's the end of the message.
Oh, and a shout-out to Lady Azura for being the best ever. Seriously, check out her fics. Seriously, if you like Lizzie and Edwin, her profile is totally the place to go.
To Kate,who asked how Casey is not pregnant, which is a very valid question... Firstly, just because I never mentioned that it was protected or used the word condom does not necessarily mean that it was not... at least at times. Aside from that, consider how low the odds are of having a child are anyways. Depending on the woman, she can get pregnant one to two days in a month, sometimes fewer and sometimes more... Well, actually, I don't know about more. But generally it's one to two days a month, usually not for very long, like a few hours or so and there are peak times and so on, so I think it's a wonder anyone even gets pregnant. And then there are people with wonky ovaries and irregular cycles to consider. And that's assuming she's fertile, and Derek's fertile. Aside from that, well, who knows. Maybe Casey can't even get pregnant. Maybe her body physically prevents her from it, y'know? In fact, Casey and Derek were only together for about 3-ish weeks, not even really a whole month, right? And for a good while they didn't even have sex. And she could always be on the Pill. You know (wink)... for her skin. Sorry. Reminds me of the time my Psych teacher assumed every girl in our class was on the Pill. Not true. So not true. But serious kudos to you. You have anticipated something, and for that I am very proud.
I'm really sick of all those fics where they have sex all the time and use a condom or whatever, like that excuses the obsession or whatever. And there's no consequences. There are consequences. Always. And not just babies. STDs. And emotional consequences too, of course. This fic showcases some of those. Now, whether or not any of the other consequences pop up is a secret, but it does not mean that they are ignored if they do not show up. Casey worries over such things, and in this chapter alone, Derek himself mentions STDs four times.
I've been churning this chapter out like a mess. Four pages at a time! Crazy! And yeah, it does start out small and isn't that heavy on the emotional crap 'cause Derek tries not to be... plus you get to see all his delicious plotting. That being said, we also get snarky goodness, a little hot scene, Derek returning to all his pre-Casey goodness and vices, the battle for dominance, and, because, really, no one's reading this, some fun with a tranny and Derek being a manhoe again! The argument is seriously 11 PAGES LONG! CRAZY! I'm totally channelling Cruel Intentions here, by the way... Oh, and if anyone can think of something good for Casey to level at Derek that hasn't been mentioned yet, I'm all ears. Really, I work hard for these insults, so appreciate them.
As I was saying... The timeline, I apologize, is kind-of flawed. 'Cause really, it looks more like D and C broke up the last week/few days of January. So they were together for almost a month, but for like, the first two weeks, nothing much happened after she slept with him, then was his birthday and all that for the other two-ish. And then assume, I guess, that it took Casey 2-3 weeks to get to the present point of her relationship with Sam. I apologize for that, but I cannot really fix it.
And wow, this chapter's long. 22 pages. Oy.
"Don't be sorry."
"Der-EK!" Ah, her screams are music to my ears. Of course, it's not half as good as before, when she was screaming it in an entirely different tone and cadence... but I'm not going to think of that now. I don't want to. I'll think about it tomorrow. Or never. I shook my head to free it of the unconstructive thought and tried to focus on the fact that I'd pissed her off again. I could feel her fury.
You see, I've played so many pranks on her that it was really hard for me to think of something big to top it all. I need something cruel. After all, I am just getting back into the game. So I short-sheeted her bed a couple days ago, and I put maple syrup in her shampoo, and I spat in her sandwich when she wasn't looking. Hmm, there was something else, too. Oh, and I've been using up all the hot water in the shower. Because I'm friggin' sick of having to take cold showers. I shredded her homework and gave Marti all of her smelly junk to use for "portions." That way her smell doesn't haunt me.
I would've stolen all of her clothes, but then she'd probably wind up wearing mine again... though, seriously, the girl has a mother and two sisters, so why did she pick MY clothes? If she and Nora can share bras, then, come on, can't they share clothes? Or Liz... but anyways, I digress- and I'm not going to do pranks that give me that immature, kid-with-a-crush kind of happiness. I prefer vengeance served cold, myself. She was in for a huge heaping of it. I was willing to try anything and everything I could think of.
Nothing really big yet. I'm trying to get back my stride, after all. Not that I ever lost it or anything. Today, however, I capped off my day by waking up extra early to pour red dye all over her. It was syrupy and heavy, and, above all, sticky. The dye washed off her skin after a lot of scrubbing, but bits of it lingered in her hair. Sure, that was enough to make her shout, but she wasn't really, really, really pissed off. After all, we were going to get a new mattress anyways. I made sure that it soaked right on through, though. When she went into the shower, I snuck into her room and doused her bed with lighter fluid spelling out SLUT. Then, obviously, I lit each letter on fire carefully so as to not burn myself... And that's why Casey's shouting.
Doesn't even matter how much trouble I'll get in, and now her room's going to smell, and her skin's already raw... Plus, she'll have to sleep on the couch until she can get a new mattress, and, oh, the list goes on. Just hearing her say it was more than enough for me, so I turned on my heel and was out there before she could even find me. I drove off to school without her, effectively stranding her at home.
That being done, I had plenty of time to spare, so I set out to prank her locker. I taped pictures of carefully-cut-out penises and acts of hardcore gay porn to every surface within it. I had Frank do it because he owes me a favor. Like I'd actually soil my own hands by finding the most graphic, large, and disgusting images I could find? I'm going to cash in all those favors I've been owed, y'know, from my Nice Period. No more Mr. Nice Guy. Hell, I chew up those kinda guys for breakfast! Then I jerry-rigged this condom filled with a mixture of bad mayonnaise and coconut conditioner to explode in her face once she opened her locker. I am a dedicated man, you know. Revenge is my life.
As you can see, I was extremely early for school, so, after setting all that up, I closed her locker and began to mill among my peers. I then proceeded to think of every nasty rumor I'd ever heard and decided to spread a new one every week. This week's rumor, I decided, was particularly damning. She'd really pissed me off yesterday when she rubbed the Sam thing in my face again. I walked in on him kissing her neck and half on top of her. His shirt was lying on the floor. And then she made some bitchy comment about me not getting laid or whatever. So, I started a rumor that Edwin had walked in on Casey masturbating, and she'd asked him to join in. My sweet, innocent, desperate little brother, of course, acquiesced. I added that poor Lizzie had been walking past and seen them through a crack in the door they hadn't even bothered to close all the way. Nice, huh?
Plus it gives Ed a little street-cred, nailing his hot stepsister and all. Who says I'm not a good big brother, huh? I wanted to do more, but I was only able to write her name and cell number in one of the mens' rooms before the bell for class rang. I went to class like a good little boy with a gleeful smile on my face. Casey came in, some thirty minutes late and flustered-looking. I'd "accidentally" bleached most of her clothes white the other day, so she was wearing a boring ensemble that made her stand out better than any target marking I could've possibly devised. I made sure that someone would spill water on her lap later in the day, discreetly, of course. Oh, you wouldn't believe how EVERYONE whispered about her! Casey glowered at me and paid attention to the lesson studiously, although I saw her glancing around, wondering what everyone was saying about her.
I was one of the first out of the classroom so that she couldn't chase me, and during that passing period, I wrote her number in the rest of the restrooms with the sideline: Call for a good time! Satisfied, I disposed of the offending marker and practically skipped off to the next class. Casey opened her locker the next passing period, and I had a front-row view of the action. The condom did indeed explode in her face, and everyone saw the pictures taped up, so she got sent off to the nurse's first, and then the principal's office. The best part of all was that her shirt was see-through! Unfortunately, she was wearing a bra.
But she emerged from the nurse's office looking a little worse for the wear. This was understandable. Her clothes were wrinkled, and her whole head was wet, like she'd been stuck in the faucet. She was clean, mostly, but she stank of old mayo to high heaven the whole day. Furthermore, there was a haunted, deer-like look in her eyes, and she was wearing a really dumb, really tight Barney t-shirt and rainbow-colored bell-bottoms. She looked like she'd been felt up by the nurse, but I didn't care.
In my book, the bitch got and will continue to get what she deserved.
Casey wound up getting detention and community service for the rest of the year. Yes, I was more than a little satisfied. I resolved to send my old business partner a fruit basket.
By the end of the day, the terrifically wonderful rumor had spread and changed so much that Casey had crept in Edwin's room at night and was giving him a handjob in his sleep, and Nora had walked in and seen it and was now pressing charges. Ah, molestation. I took the liberty of contributing an aggravated, attempted sodomy when Ed woke up. The gossips added that she was being shipped off to live with her dad in Australia. Ridiculous, isn't it? That was just one strain. Another was that she and Edwin were having a secret affair since she got here, and she had invited both of our sisters to come join in gleefully. The sisters had then come to me, and I, of course, had busted her. The best part of all was that Casey knew nothing of it until Sam finally realized what they were saying. He, like Emily and a few others, saw the lies for what they were and told Casey, who had a breakdown in front of everyone. She literally went nuts.
I chose that particular time to skip out, but a friend of mine texted me to tell me that they had called George up to bring her home. There would be hell when I got back at home, but I didn't give a damn. I had other pranks to plan, so I went back to school afterward for practice and stayed a little later, setting up things on the computer. I kept them in a dummy file, of course, that I made sure translated to every computer in the school. I took advantage of my vast Photoshop knowledge to make VD ads with her as the face, and then put her face on an anorexic, naked transsexual who hadn't had his surgery done. I then printed these out and hung them up all over the school. I got out of school understandably late, and of course I was starving... But it helps to have a master key in situations such as these.
Since I was desperate to avoid a confrontation (or, rather, being punished), I headed to Smelly Nelly's for a bite and then dashed over to the rink to cram in my now-customary four hours. My stamina has increased exponentially, and I've learned how to take a lot of pain. Though I guess you could also blame Casey for that. But, like I said, I've resolved not to think about that. Yeah, I know, resolved. Wow. Big word for little man.
I can just picture that bitch saying that to me. Makes me so damn angry to think about her, so it's all I can do to let out a little of my frustration with the pranks. Otherwise I would throttle her.
Wondering 'bout the sudden change in me, aren't you? What, was I supposed to be some lovesick, Casey-obsessed freak for the rest of my life? I'm no damn whiny emo kid, thanks. My life isn't over, so why should I mope around like it is? I'm not going to be that guy, that pansy, okay?! I am not Sam! And I don't want to be, even if he's got Casey or whatever. Because, if I was Sam, I wouldn't be that completely stupid.
That thing... that time when I was all quiet and crap, that was just a phase. That was the concussion talking, and hell, I'm supposed to be irritable, so maybe this is still the concussion talking, only it's been two weeks since it happened, so I kinda doubt it. Something inside me snapped that day last week, though. Okay, yeah, I was lying when I said I wasn't jealous. So sue me. I'm a big fat liar; what else is new? They don't call me the Lord of the Lies for nothing.
Now, what Casey said that day was bad enough, but me just standing there and taking it... Well, that was worse. Oh, and I wanted to make so many little comments to every one of her oh-so clever snide remarks. Like I give a damn what she thinks of me? So what, I'm a whore! Manwhore. Lothario. Don Juan. Romeo (Mercutio, though, really. I'm not that romantic). Flirt. Sheik. Cad. Rake. Lech. Stud. Libertine. Pimp. Philanderer. Wencher. Womanizer. Mujeriego. Shirt-chaser. Sleaze. Lady-killer. Ladies' man. Casanova. Benedick. Seducer of women. Incubus. Player. Sex Fiend. Whatever the hell you want to call it. It was torture to bite back those retorts.
Because of course I couldn't bring up that fling with her. Oh, no, that was off-limits, my lips are sealed territory. The really, really, really insulting thing was when Sam pitied me. It was so ironic, too. Sam saying that when he'd stolen my girlfriend. Not that he knew. I guess I can't call him deliberately mean or anything. But Sam pitying me? That's when I knew I was in for it. It was like a slap in the face.
I didn't want his insulting, condescending pity. And if he thought I did, well, then I had prove him wrong. That snapped me out of it, that and all the awful things she said. Because I couldn't let the fricking bitch have that kind of power over me. It was emasculating. I wasn't about to let her rub it in my face and hurt me like that. I wasn't going to go down without a fight or just take her crap anymore. What she was doing was manipulation, no better than rubbing salt in my wound. It was unbearable, so I had to get over it. I couldn't live otherwise because that was no kind of life.
Admittedly, it took a while to get back into the proper swing of things, but now I'm there. I've stopped thinking around her all the time, and I've stopped watching that show just because there's a girl on it who looks like her. I've stopped hiding her clothes just because they smell like her, and I've stopped staring forlornly at her shampoo bottle, wanting to use it. And I've started to use that shower again. It's healthier now. Baby steps. But I don't like to think about those days, that awful week.
I'd prefer, really, to just forget it all. I remember it as a haze of endorphins and painkillers and unconsciousness. Anything to kill the pain.
As I said, I am not the type to wallow. I am not a defeated man.
I am, however, not a glutton for punishment, so I called up Ralph and asked if I could stay at his place. His parents are complete morons (they smoked a bit too much pot in their day, so their brains were fried), so they agreed easily. Those guys love me. I told Ralph I'd be there in five to ten minutes and called home. Fortunately, I got the answering machine, so I left a message saying that I was at a friend's house. I almost said Ralph's place, but I was worried they'd come get me and ground me. So I showered at Ralph's before passing out on his couch for the night. I was sore and exhausted.
The doctors say I'm supposed to be getting some rest with this concussion of mine. As if I could be bothered! I don't have time for that crazy stuff. Ralph's mom woke me up an hour early, so I got ready (I always keep a spare set of street clothes in my gym bag), ate breakfast courtesy of Ralph's mommy, and then headed off to school. It was a busy day. The posters were still there, so I wrote a little poem to stick in the newspaper. The editors were curiously lax, so I knew it'd get in. I signed Casey's name to the obscene little lines and then set about to continue destroying her. I broke into her gym locker and carefully "spilled" battery acid on her gym clothes. After that was done, I wondered what I could do next to further embarrass her.
It came to me, and I dashed off to the library to look for what I needed on the Internet. Sending dog crap is so elementary, as is pissing on her stuff. However, looking up the number of a transsexual entertainer/escort... you know what that means, hehe... is complex. I quickly called the hooker, who happened to be the cheapest and trashiest one I could find that would come all the way to London on such short notice. I adopted a falsetto, mimicking that annoying voice that was so familiar to me, and proceeded to give her our address. I gave her Casey's cell number, explaining that I was calling on my boyfriend's phone and that he didn't know. I told her I was Casey, and that was who she was supposed to ask for, and then I proceeded to tell her the whole story about Sam. S/he was sympathetic, and I "confessed" that I'd thought it over, and if that sort of thing made Sam happy, I was willing and curious to do it. S/he tried to have phone sex with me, but it was just disgusting, so I told her my little sister was in the room and I had to go. Finally, I told s/he to get a copy of her gas bill because I would reimburse her. Casey's in for such trouble.
Then I headed out for a smoke. Replacing one addiction with another, don'tcha know? I actually think this one's healthier. I'd stopped for a while after things with Casey got serious, but I'd started right back up again with the cravings. The first few days I had been smokeless, since the 'rents wouldn't let me out of the house, and I was actually scared it might be detrimental to my health. It killed me to do it, but I had the pills, so I was out of my mind or asleep most of it. And when I wasn't. Stunning, I know. I'm not back completely yet. After all, I haven't had sex for over two weeks... the last time was in the shower with Casey. And I can't go there. I just can't. Not again. Not now.
I'm just finally getting everything back together again, you know? I kind of almost feel like myself again, except meaner and heartless. And I know some people wouldn't approve... Sam especially not, I assume, and my family... But I don't give a damn. This is my way of dealing with things. This is my way of getting over it and getting even. This is my way of putting one foot in front of the other and marching onward. This is my way of surviving, y'know? Makes me feel all alive.
I haven't had fun like this in years. Since before I ever heard her name, much less met her. It's good to be back.
Screw Mr. Right. I'm Mr. Wrong, and it's about time I stopped pretending I'm not. After all, Casey knew it all along. I never fit in with her perfect little plans, and that's why Sam's standing in my place, now isn't it? I just don't fit into her world. So yeah. No more Mr. Nice Guy. I'm no Nice Guy. I'm a meanspirited, promiscuous, addictive asshole, and I can't be anything else. I'm okay with that. I'm a helluva Bad Guy. I'm evil. I'm Satan. She hates me. Big freakin' deal. I get it. I've accepted it. And it feels good. Damn good. I'm finally comfortable in my own skin again, and I'm FREE! No more Mr. Obvious for me.
So they can give me the moral lectures, but I'm just repaying the favor. Casey's just as cruel as I am. She might even be worse. Have I ever deliberately brok... No, I haven't. Can't even finish the sentence. I'm a man of accidence too, you see. And I see the way she pulls Sam a little closer whenever I come around (then again, that could just be because she's scared of me. Damn right she should be). I see how affectionate and doubt-free she seems when I'm passing by in the halls. The bitch does it on purpose. She does it because she knows it makes me upset. I freaking told her not to do it in front of me. Spare us this last courtesy, I'd practically said. It was my one request other than...
My point is that it was a condition, and she broke it! I could destroy her with what I know, and I know every little thing about her! I know her inside and out, up and down, and left and right. I've memorized her face, and her whole body is a mental picture I can recreate on will. I swoon a little at her smell, close my eyes and sway on my feet a little. Just that smell makes me all hot and bothered. I've said too much, but I could pick it out in a perfume shop. Goosebumps form when I remember touching her skin, and the feel of it, all soft and smooth, is ingrained in my fingers. If I close my eyes, I can still taste her on my lips, feel her lips against mine. That I remember most of all, so damn vividly that it hurts more than looking at her and that impassive face, closing me off like a blank, cold piece of slate. If I wanted to, she'd be dead.
Socially, that is.
Obviously I can't kill her. She's family, after all... and why kill her when I can make her life a living hell? There's a hell of a lot less jail time this way.
Of course, I have a reputation too, you know. It's not the stepsister thing. Although that's what's got Casey all squeamish. I have no such problem. When have I ever really thought of Casey like that? I mean, sure, I call her sis to piss her off, but she's as much as a sister to me as Sam is. Maybe even less. Can't decide which of them I hate more. Or which one's more effeminate, well, obviously Casey, but there's a strong case (punny) for Sam... Kind of a toss-up really, although I guess I'm not sexually attracted to Sam, so, there ya go, sister!
It's the other thing. And I don't want to look like a scorned, spurned lover, thanks. I am not that pathetic. Let Casey off with all the credit of being the only girl to ever tam... um, brea... no... hur... well, you know what I mean. I refuse! She'd be a freaking legend! Even if I would get sympathy points and girl action. It's not worth losing my dignity! I'm above all that romantic garbage! The guys would make a laughingstock of me if they knew. Much less that it was a chick like Casey McDonald, dork extraordinaire.
Next thing I knew, I'd blown my way through three more cigarettes. I frowned, squashing the last one under my foot. That was far from healthy, and I wasted that many good drags thinking about Casey. Flipping depressing. I scowled, putting the pack in my jacket, and stepped back inside to rule the roost. Normally, when I'm pissed, people know to get out of my way. Casey is abnormal, although she oughtta know that better than anyone. So, of course, I ran into Her Clumsiness. Bitch wasn't looking where she was going.
And damn if she wasn't early to school. Super-keener. We had one of those rare head-on collisions they like to throw in movies and kids' cartoons. I was just innocently walking around the corner, and BAM! Her books scattered all over the floor, and she bit her lip, looking nervous and afraid of me. Cute, Case. You look like Bambi with those wide eyes of yours. Wish she'd stop looking at me like that, too. Makes me feel like I killed her mommy or something. She mumbled something unintelligible, and I turned around, not particularly wanting to bother myself with her.
Suddenly she grabs me by the neck, whirling me around. Then her hands pressed into my neck, her nails digging into my skin, and she damn near wrung my neck. I was a little breathless, but she was so mad that her grip wasn't half as hard as it could've been. I didn't much care either way, but I knew what I could do. We were all alone in that hallway, so I wrapped my arms around her waist, hard, and I pulled her flush against me. At the very least, I knew what would make her uncomfortable. I leaned in extra close to Casey to whisper in her ear. "Don't think you wanna do that, Sweetheart," I rasped, shooting her a murderous look.
That was enough to make Casey jump back in fright. Her hands dropped off my neck. I rubbed my throat but otherwise said nothing. Casey's face was so pale, and she was wearing all black. I couldn't decide if she looked beautiful or like death. She shook her head, staring at me hatefully. "What is wrong with you, Derek? The things you've done lately..."
I scoffed. "Like you didn't deserve every last one of them. I'm just repaying the favor, Case," I retorted viciously. I hated how looking at her made me want to rip off all her clothes. I hated how even when she looked awful, with puffy eyes and messy hair, that I still... I don't know. Mostly, though, when I saw her, I wanted to strangle her. But I couldn't do that, even though the urge was damn near overwhelming me, and I wanted to hurt her just as much as she'd hurt me. I'm not that much of an asshole.
Casey walked towards me, literally seething. She grabbed me forcibly by the shoulders and shook me. I almost smirked at how close she was, but she didn't give me time to turn it against her. "No, Derek... This goes beyond your stupid little broken heart. This is about the fact that you, even in your slighted state, have no sense of decency!" Casey snarled like a rabid animal, pushing me back a solid foot. No more Friendly Fido. The bitch is back. Ouch. Two references to me being heartbroken and slighted and pathetic. Lovely. Derek Venturi does not get ditched or slighted. And... my broken heart's stupid? Why? Why am I the stupid one here? 'Cause I fell in love with my stepsister? She's the one who went back to that cheating asshole who she caught cheating on her with both genders, and I'm the stupid one?! I opened my mouth to say the first nasty thing I could think of, but Casey beat me to the punch. She slapped me hard and suddenly across the mouth.
My lips stung unpleasantly, and I tasted blood. It wasn't new, though, and I didn't much care. I didn't care about much of anything anymore, I guess. I put my fingers to my lips, tasting iron, wiping away the blood but not the pain. "You told everyone that I was molesting my little stepbrother! He's just a kid and..." Casey exclaimed in a voice that was half-gasp and half-scream before words failed her. She tried to charge at me then, fisting her hands and beginning to beat on my chest like a drum.
And then, I finished for her mentally, you're not interested in Edwin anyways. Hell, you won't even let your little sister like him!
I shook my head, carefully removing her hands from my chest. I eyed them with something like disdain but not quite. "Well, I wanted to tell them some measure of the truth," I quipped nastily, leering at her. She was so furious with me that she probably didn't notice that I'd retreated about three meters. I smirked at her. Hell, since she'd seen fit to bring up my f-f-feelings... Ugh, that blasted F-word. Since she'd mentioned that, I'd figured that it was only right to make the nasty comments about our time together that I'd refrained from mentioning earlier... out of some kind of ridiculous respect. "After all, couldn't very well say you were making it with a lout like me, could I? After all, think of your reputation!" I continued sarcastically.
Suddenly, I found myself wanting a drink very much. Casey flushed, and that made me feel very satisfied. But not quite as satisfied as I would be if there was a drink in my hand. Unfortunately, however, the bitch recovered fast. "I must admit that I am quite surprised in you, Derek. Who would've ever thought that you knew the word, much less how to use it properly? But let's get it right... you're a cad!" She rejoined rather lamely. Oh, how promising I thought that one was. She placed her hands on her hips and looked rather huffy. Almost like a peacock or something. "Besides, what reputation, Derek? What reputation could I possibly have left? I'm either Klutzilla or the Grub or a slut or a troublemaker and now everyone thinks I'm a child molester!" An exasperated Casey threw her hands in the air, and I noticed she was now pacing.
I felt a small degree of satisfaction at that. Too true. Ah, how the mighty have fallen. I would've said it out loud too, but I merely shrugged instead, content with my silent pleasure at her expense. How lovely it is to have such influence over public opinion. However, I seriously doubt most people actually believe that rumor, so I'm going to have to do better. Casey stopped suddenly and shot me a nasty look. Once again she advanced towards me accusingly. "You poured red dye all over me while I was sleeping, then, as if that wasn't enough, you burned "SLUT" into my mattress!" I rolled my eyes. How on Earth is that distressing? I did worse to her yesterday.
"I call 'em as I see 'em," I muttered dismissively. Her jaw dropped, and she quickly moved to say something, but I cut her off. "And don't go crying over it. Dad and Nora were going to buy you a new one anyways." Which she knew just as well as I did. Besides, I could've used a permanent dye. None of it really seeped into the carpet or anything. At least she got most of it out. Sheesh.
Casey bristled at the insinuation at first, but then she seemed to calm. This both perplexed and worried me. A tiny smile appeared on her lips. "But why, Derek?" She asked calmly. She sounded genuinely curious, and I couldn't help but wonder just what her angle was.
Nevertheless, I've never been one to shut up or quit while I'm ahead, so I told her. "I couldn't bear to see it look so damn clean..." Like nothing had even happened! That stupid white mattress. Hypocrite. "When it was so dirty." And you, I added mentally. Casey raised an eyebrow, coolly motioning for me to go on. I felt somewhat uncomfortable, awkward even. Not good territory after a brea... Not good. "The slut is self-explanatory, but I couldn't bear the thought of you going around, pretending to be all prim and proper when I still remember pounding into you every night for two solid weeks on that mattress!" I shouted back without thinking, suddenly realizing how bitter I really was about the whole thing.
What happened next surprised me. Hell, it knocked me off my game a little. Okay, a lot.
Casey grinned as if she'd won some great victory, which meant that she'd made me look ridiculous again. She did, however, have the modesty to color when I mentioned our copulation in such graphic terms. Yeah, you know, if I'm such a Cro-Magnon, how do I know so many big words? I ought to get a loonie every time I po... no, a sexual favor from Casey for every one of those. It'd be a great way to learn my vocabulary, I should think. I wanted to wipe that wide smile clear off her face, but I couldn't slap her like she'd hit me. So I had to say something vicious that would make her stop. "Oh, Sis, enjoying the memories? Or is that smirk something else you learned from me?" I interjected icily.
The grin immediately dropped off of Casey's face, and she looked almost shamed. She was pale once again. Not good enough to fool me, though. Psh, like she didn't enjoy it while it lasted. I had the bitch begging for more. Faster, Derek. Harder, Derek. Ooh, oh, wow, Derek. That feels so good, Derek. Do it again. Now, Derek! Didn't mind bossing me around when she could, now did she? Casey seemed to shake off all these notions almost like a dog fresh out of a bath. She proceeded with her diatribe, "You glued thousands of pictures of penises inside my locker!" I relished the horrified tone in her voice.
Inspiration came at me in a flash, and I grinned wickedly, having thought of something perfectly merciless to say to her. "Oh, sorry," I said facetiously, "I thought you liked them." Sure liked having them inside of you, or, well, mine inside of you. But I ought not to think about that. It'll only make me angri... oh, wait, I don't care! Bring it on! That would've been bad enough, sure, but I wasn't done. I plastered a fake, sympathetic smile on my lips, batting my eyelashes innocently. "Should I have put them in Sam's locker instead?" I questioned naively, mocking the both of them. Casey's eyes flashed, and she slumped a little. I saw the glint of shame and worthlessness in her eye, but I wasn't finished yet. "I hear he likes them," I deadpanned, going in for the kill.
Casey's face turned red, and she held her neck up, trying to pretend the comment didn't hurt. Like I cared. Game, set, and ma... "At least Sam loves me back," Casey pointed out in a completely flat voice. "More than can be said for you." The comment stung a little. Or a lot. Because you never gave a damn about me. Yeah. WE KNOW! You don't have to rub it in my face every friggin' chance you get! I get it! YOU DON'T LOVE ME! What the hell else is new? I knew that when you were having sex with me. Besides, I dumped her, not the other way around!
I shrugged and pretended like I didn't care. Don't think she bought it. "At least I don't suck in the sack," I countered childishly, imitating her voice. Oh, wow, look at the rhyming. I would've said the obvious... that I'm better, but it wouldn't go with the "at least." I crossed my arms over my chest and flashed her a terse smile. "More than can be said for Sam, I'm sure." Casey just shrugged carelessly and said nothing. Well, there ya have it. Proof that I'm just simply better.
"I'll be sure to give you all the gory details when the both of you don't repulse me so much," Casey said in a faux-kind voice. The comment left me speechless... because it obviously meant that she hadn't had sex with Sam yet, and that, well, that kind of flummoxed me. Casey seemed to realize this too, but she didn't look embarrassed or annoyed or anything. She just stood up a little higher and prouder. "Yeah, I said it. So drop the slut label, Prostidude!" Casey said sharply, bluntly.
I had been surprised, but I was not unprepared. "Actually, Casey, I believe that would be your manhole of a boyfriend," I replied smoothly, flashing a smug smile. I jumped back just in time so she couldn't scratch my eyes out. The Sam insults were just flowing. Like spirits or something.
"Yeah, because you haven't been with a girl since me!" That was true, I'll admit it. I believe, actually, I already did. Maybe it's because I don't want to. Has she ever considered that? That I like the fact that she's the last girl I've banged? Because I do, as messed up as it is. But I wasn't stupid enough to say that. I can't believe she actually admitted it, the hooking-up thing. Broke her own promise and all.
What she said, though, it kind of set me off, so I stalked towards her, backing her into a locker. I pressed my fingers against the bruises on her back, pulled up her shirt, pushing down her tights a sliver to see the yellowing bruises on her hips and grip them hard. I lightly brushed my finger across the lovebites. "Lovebites", how fake, how phony! Love had nothing to do with it, Baby! If I thought I could've gotten away with it, I would've pulled her tights down all the way and found every last bruise my fingertips left on her thighs. I would've kissed every faded, dusky pink hickey.
But I couldn't, so I pressed them like buttons through her clothes instead. I slipped a hand up and underneath her skirt and back out again. Casey was frozen, powerless, even, and definitely in pain, but she just bit down on her lip and remained stubbornly silent. "Does the word "date rape" mean anything to you?" Casey bit out tranquilly, fixing me with a look that made me feel the proper amount of shame. It did, damn it, but that didn't mean I had to be a damn angel. We have a rather... abusive relationship. I wanted to rip my hands right off of her body as if they were on fire, but I didn't. I kept my hands placed firmly on her upper thighs, but I stopped pressing her into the wall and loosened my grip.
I managed a narrow smirk. Plus, we're not exactly dating anymore, nor, really, were we ever. "Funny... I didn't hear, see, or feel you objecting," I retorted, sliding my hand inwards, along the curve of her leg. I traced a tempting trail with my fingers, and she didn't seem to stop me much. In fact, she was still gasping for air, and I could feel her pulse beating double-time through the the tights... all the way down in her thighs. Gee, wonder where all the blood's going. "Watch the erratic breaths, Case. Someone might actually think you're turned on by my manhandling," I murmured only millimeters away from her neck, close enough that she felt the hot puffs of breath on her throat and the vibrations of my words and my hovering lips so close yet too far. Casey had always hated it when I was in control, and she'd never really appreciated roughness of any sort. But she's no butterfly.
"Or I might be scared. After all, a desperate man can and will do anything, especially if he thinks it will get him what he wants," Casey remarked too fast, nerves showing through in her voice. Her voice was still surprisingly measured and calm. She knew just where to strike, calling me, ME, desperate! I overlooked the fact that she was probably a little right. Still, I didn't entirely buy it. Her excuse. It's more than fear that keeps her here, because she's neither fleeing nor fighting. She likes it, all right. Or are the memories, her body, and her hormones just conspiring to confuse her. Really, the simplest answer is pretty much always the right one. Everybody knows that.
"You ain't seen nothin' yet, Babe," I responded swiftly, flashing her a sly grin. Bitch has no idea what she's in for. I'm gonna enjoy this.
Casey made a face at the term of endearment. It really had lost all meaning as that, though, with the disdain in my voice. "You bleached my clothes." I rolled my eyes, yawning in boredom. What is this, her reciting a list of my offenses? Big deal. I've done way worse, and I'm about to do worse. In fact, this conversation means that I have clearly not done enough to frickin' sabotage her life. I need to do more... I'm thinking computer-inspired mayhem this time 'round. Maybe make a little video or something.
I shrugged carelessly, readopting my cool attitude. "There was just something so ironic and wonderfully hypocritical about dressing my ex-whore up in shades of white. White for purity and chastity, right? Some virtue you've got now," I declared with a touch of decadent glee. I'm probably being too self-indulgent, but it's worth it. I love making people miserable... ruining lives. It's all so fun. There's the thrill of the hunt. And, I assure you, I'll have her shot dead and mounted on my wall like the trophy she is. I'm going to make my greatest defeat my biggest triumph. Casey swiped at me and slapped me before I could blink. She would've assaulted me further, but I pushed her off, holding her back artfully. My smirk widened. "Forgive me, really, but I just couldn't resist." I paused briefly, putting a finger to my lips. "Kinda like you, actually, when we were sleeping together."
She flinched at the reminder, and this look came over her face, as if she'd smelled something rotten. Me. I could've said something nasty about Sam, but that would've been a little played out. Casey glared at me and literally itched to slap me again. "I was never your whore, Derek, and I was never really yours," Casey snarled fearsomely. Her eyes pulsed with midnight blue rage. It was nice to see them that color again, I thought dimly. She said some other junk after that, but I didn't care. Blah, blah, blah, can't believe you could be such a cad, blah, blah, blah, worse than Max, blah, blah, blah, this is needlessly vindictive, blah, blah, blah, it was your choice so why are you so upset, blah, blah, blah, can you seriously blame me? For what, saying yes to Sam? Hells yeah, I can! I'm supposed to be enough for her! Or, I was... That one pissed me off enough to finally cut her off.
Okay, so I knew the whore thing would piss her off, and, probably, that it wasn't actually true, but it was the only way I could get any further under her skin. I have to undermine her self-worth just to be competitive. Or else she'll remember and then bring up the fact that I'm in love with her, and that's just something I can't really deal with right now. My feelings haven't gone away yet. Damn fluttering. "I seem to recall you giving me yourself," I interjected somewhat irritably. "Giving someone your body typically means something," I continued pointedly. Typically, only not in this case... oh, I'm not sure. It had to, right? Damn it, why am I asking myself all these stupid questions?! I raised an eyebrow as if daring her to challenge my statement.
As usual, she rose to the challenge. "Not to people like you, Der, so why are you taking it so seriously? Why do you persist in believing our arrangement was any different than all your other little flings?" Casey questioned mockingly. She said it as if she couldn't understand it. She called it an "arrangement" once again. So help me, God, I want to KILL her. What part of I'M (expletive deleted) IN LOVE WITH YOU doesn't she understand. That's what made it different. I actually care. It meant something to me, and I'm sick of her frickin' trivializing it.
Somehow I managed to restrain myself from acting on these violent urges. I drew in a shaky breath and tried to steady myself. Be calm, cool, collected. Don't let this girl get any further under your skin. She's not worth this. Only she is, and I hate it. A good idea came to mind, so I started talking, feeling the smirk on my face widen and become increasingly more pleased as I spoke. "Because if it wasn't, you'd be a whore, just like all the other ones... and you claim you're not a whore, remember?" I said in a voice as smooth as velvet, swiftly trapping her in a cage of her own words. I was proud of myself for that one.
Now, the real question is is she or isn't she a whore? I personally don't think so, but she can't go on about it all being sex to her. She's a girl, so she's got to be at least a little emotionally invested. A girl like Casey doesn't just give it up to anyone, after all. Even if it was a major sexual awakening for her, she can't say it was meaningless sex. No sex is meaningless unless you're too drunk to know what you're doing. There's always a reason and always a purpose. But, then again, sex doesn't equal a relationship. Casey was predictably dumbfounded and silent for well over a minute before attempting to speak. "I..." She began.
Wow. Not even gonna pull out the "friends-with-benefits" thing? Then again, we never really were friends. I clucked my tongue amusedly. The balance of power is in my hands. "Damned if you do, damned if you don't, Case," I taunted mercilessly, staring at her through narrow slits. I moved closer in a predatory sort of way, eyes dark and glittering. I placed a finger on her lips, giving her a wink and patting her on the cheek lightly. "Watch your tongue, Dollface," I warned in a lilting voice. Too easy.
Casey slapped my hand away, quickly growing irate. Seriously, though, which is it? How can she rationalize it? "Der-EK-" Casey started, sounding exasperated. I knew she was going to try and tell me off, but I didn't want to listen, so I cut her off. Her lips were frozen in their pursed position, enticing and hinting at all the possibilities. And I wanted to kiss her really, really, really bad. So bad. But I couldn't do that.
I tried to smirk, but it didn't quite work this time. My face was twisted up into some kind of grimace. Casey was too dumb and too unaware to notice. She never could read me that well. "You know how much I love it when you say my name like that," I drawled, flashing her a wholly inappropriate reach. A disgusted look passed over Casey's face. I paused, sobering up, dropping the strange snarl off my face. "But really, my point is this: sex means something to you. Just because it was me doesn't mean it was meaningless. You're not that kind of girl," I finished so coolly, so logically, that I thought I must be a different person. Still, I couldn't help but feel like I was trying to convince myself of that fact more than her, that I needed it to be true. I guess I just wanted to be worth something, for once.
I wanted to tell myself it had happened for a purpose, for a reason, that it wasn't a coincidence. I wanted it to be more than me being in the right place at the wrong time. I wanted it to be about more than just the fact that I was there, and maybe I wanted to think that she wouldn't have just screwed anyone that night in an attempt to get over Sam. I wanted to think that I wasn't just a way of getting revenge against Sam. That all of it had actually meant something to her.
But you can't always get what you want, and I can't. Not anymore.
Casey rolled her eyes, hitting me away from her. She planted her hands firmly on her hips. "And you're not this type of guy, Derek, so stop acting like a depressed emo kid and just accept it," Casey sneered, giving me the ultimate brush-off. I stood there numb, not wanting to accept it. Her posture straightened, and suddenly she looked so freaking radiant and self-righteous that I wanted to shoot myself out of the sheer unworthiness. It was the first time I had ever felt that I didn't deserve something... that I wasn't entitled to what I wanted, and that, maybe, I should just give up. I wasn't going to get her back, especially not this way.
I was even gonna give up the revenge thing and just try and move on with my life in a healthier way. You know, sleeping around, drinking heavily, smoking a lot... the usual things. But then Casey drove the knife in further, so far and so expertly that I would've never thought she had it in her. "We had sex. S-E-X. We slept together, Derek, but we didn't make love. It doesn't mean you know me or anything, and it doesn't mean we were intimate. It was animal magnetism, chemistry, hormones... and you were there. I was on the rebound, and looking for a way to kill time. Don't romanticize it," Casey stated in an utterly detached, clipped tone. She sounded almost bored. And that made me furious all over again. Apathy.
God, how much, exactly, did I rub off on her?
It's not so nice the other way around.
So I snapped, and I completely lost it. I didn't start bawling or anything wussy like that, but I lost all semblances of control. And I hate that; I hate it, and I hate her! I was overcome by a white-hot rage. I saw red giant stars I was so mad. I don't even remember any of what happened next because it was so fast and I had a rage blackout. I have never, ever, ever been so completely mad in my life. I seized her violently, wrapping my fingers around her upper arms, gripping her flesh so hard my knuckles were white with the force of it. I could feel the skin bruising again beneath my fingers, and I didn't care. I wanted to mess her up and down and all over the walls. I wanted to splatter her, shatter her, break her wide open, rip her to pieces, and grind her bones into dust.
I shook her instead, a testament to the small degree of control still left in me. I shook her hard and fast, like it had been before, only again and again and again, hurting her. "No! You don't get to do that. You don't get to stand there like that, uncaring like there isn't a bone of empathy in you! I'm sick of this, Casey. You don't get to say that it meant nothing to you or tell me that it should mean nothing to me. Because it meant something, damnit, even if you can't figure out what that is! "It's just sex" isn't going to cut it this time! YOU DON'T GET TO PRETEND IT DIDN'T HAPPEN! I WON'T LET YOU! You used me, and that's not okay!" I snapped savagely, bellowing and damn near howling. Insert the deleted expletives between "you" and "used" and "not" and "okay." Yeah, you know the one. That one. You get the (expletive deleted) picture?! Hell, I'm not fricking OKAY!
That time I was the animal. I was a lion, roaring and ready to charge, with big, stabbing teeth and sharp claws. I was a lone wolf, howling at the moon, pacing and waiting and hunting and searching, picking off my next victim. I was an anaconda, silently biding my time, waiting to spring up and surround and crush my prey... swallow her whole. I was a snapping, sly crocodile, chomping down on flesh with the powerful jaws of a shark. I was a fearsome tiger leaping upon its unsuspecting prey. I was a Grizzly, a cartoon, stuffed teddy bear no more, not hibernating anymore, slashing away at my quarry, tearing her limb from limb, shredding and making ribbons of her skin. I was biting into the soft throat of a live rabbit, tasting iron and feeling its pulse beat rapidly, desperately beneath my teeth as it struggled in vain. I was a hyena, laughing hysterically, driven mad by bloodlust, feasting on a carcass that had already been picked over.
Casey's back slammed against the wall, and she groaned softly. I'd probably worsened some of the bruises she already had. Casey glowered at me, but everything that happened then was in a haze. Then she spoke, and suddenly it all became clear. "If you have to hurt me to feel better about yourself and your sorry life, then go ahead. I just never thought you were that pathetic, Derek," Casey hissed, steeling herself for the pain she accepted. Oh, I wanted to hurt her. I wanted to throttle her, to kill her with my bare hands. But I refrained because, of course, the bitch had a point. I wasn't going to take it lying down, though.
I slowly pulled my hands from her shoulders, reluctant to let go. I was afraid she'd escape or something. I stubbornly stared her straight in the eye. "If you have to hurt me to make up for having sex with me, then you're the pathetic one. It happened, and you being a bitch isn't going to erase it from my memory. Twisting the knife won't make either of us forget," I retorted before abruptly jerking away from her. I needed to get out of her proximity fast before I did something unbelievably stupid. Undoubtedly I was going to do something stupid. It was more a matter of prolonging it.
Casey rolled her eyes at me, pushing herself off the lockers with disdain. "Big boys don't cry," She quipped mockingly, dusting herself off. I was jealous of her hands. My jaw clenched at the remark, but of course she wasn't done. "Grow up, Derek. You stand there on the sidelines, looking at me like I'm your world, and you're all lost and hurt, and you expect me or someone else to come along and kiss your boo-boo and make it all better. Well, I'm not your mother, Derek, and I'm not your girlfriend, so stop hoping," Casey taunted, leering at me. Polly Prissypants straightened up her hair. I wanted to ruin its order, sully its perfection. And not just the hair either.
I stiffened but wasn't about to waste a word on her. Not yet. Not until I had the perfect thing to say. Am I stupid? I know she's not my mom or my girlfriend. But she was once, my girlfriend. And I don't expect her to pick up the pieces or some corny crap like that. And, ah, the audacity of hope! But I won't entertain that fantasy. I'm not the delusional one! Having her rub in this vulnerability... Is another thing entirely. After all, I have to deal with her at home too. She could just leave it right now. But she won't. She'll go on until the both of us are so drained and worn out that we'll be like walking zombies. Reminds me of our relationship. But I shouldn't think of that. I'm not as dumb as she thinks I am. I know it's done, but does she have to keep saying it?
Sounds like she's trying to convince someone... maybe even herself. That thought helped. Made me feel slightly more together. "I never took you to be a whiner, Derek. I don't want you; I don't love you, and it's time for you to finally get over it!" Casey screamed poisonously. Her words stung more than I could imagine, more than they had before that I could remember, but it wasn't like I was going to show it. Real snakebites paralyze, after all. Get over it. What, like she got over Sam? Oh, damn, that was a good one. I should've said that out loud. I couldn't wait to reply. I had to spring like she did, suddenly and without warning. It's not like I'm going to appear weak. Pah.
"Watch who you're messing with, Honey. I might be petty, but at least I'm not a self-centered, heartless bitch." Ah, it felt good to get that out. I shot her the obligatory glare, but it was lacking in intensity. Not that myopic Casey noticed. How blind can someone be? "As for the rest... I don't want you either," I proclaimed boldly. I wasn't sure how much of that was a lie or how much of it was true... All I knew was that it wasn't all one thing or the other. "Why would I? Remember, I broke up with you, and as much as you want to pretend it happened otherwise, it didn't. Besides, you're dirty now that you're back with Sloppy Sam. The perverse appeal of staining something once pure and pristine is gone," I continued coolly, a bit cruelly. Both of us can be unfeeling, and I can do it better. Practice makes perfect apathy, after all, or at least the glossy veneer of it.
The shots at her chastity help too. I just love double standards, don't you? Gotta love the frost. Now, to somehow brush the love thing aside. Bitch knows she has me there. I can't let her think she still affects me, you know. Even if she does... can't say it. "Take love out of the equation. It lacks relevance here, especially to yourself. Besides, that's the past," I added brusquely, plowing ahead at full force. I shook my head and my vision swam for a moment. It does that sometimes. I blinked it away and focused again on Casey. I needed to nail it to her, to trap her and pin her to the wall. Purely metaphorically, of course. It's dangerous to really be that close to her.
"I'm the one who's gotten over it," I asserted. Got to be quick on my feet here, twist her all up so she can't see what's real and what isn't. One, two, thrEE! "After all, who assaulted who first, Casey? If you're so sure there was nothing to get over, then why do you keep bringing it up?" KA-POW! If only that was a knockout. Unfortunately the bitch is still standing, but it brings up an excellent point. After all, I'm the one who's trying not to think about it, yet she's the one who keeps bringing it up. So, really, what does that say about her? Plus she was the one who tackled me, even if it was because of something I did. I mean, I'm Derek Venturi. She doesn't expect me to take it like her little pansy boyfriend, does she?
It sure looked like Casey was suddenly considering it. She'd realized that I did have a point. Her mouth opened and closed dumbly, making her look like a fish. She couldn't think of anything to say, and it was a gratifying feeling. Deny that, bitch. You know, I don't care if all this bitch stuff makes me look like a chauvinist or whatever. I don't care if it's disparaging to women. Or empowering. I don't mean it to include all women. It is a word, in my mind, now specifically reserved for Casey. She's not a woman anymore. She's just a bitch. It's its own class or sex or whatever. Bitch, bitch, bitch.
Then Casey's lips tightened. "Because you can't let it go," she replied shortly. Okay, so she did have a tiny little point there. But what, she expected I was going to let her out of it scot-free, much less when she was with Sam in my presence? Originally, I did plan to lie low. I wasn't going to be this mean to her. I was just going to go back to the way things used to be. With me innocently pranking her and us bickering like kids. But we're not kids anymore. And we can't go back. And she hur-
"And you can't forget, no matter how much you want to," was my answer. We'd reached the point where the end was so near I could taste it. I wasn't really mad anymore but drained. Casey looked drawn and quiet. Her mere presence wasn't enough to make the hate rise up in my veins or tempt me. All I felt now was numb. The fight was almost over, or close to it. Both of us really lacked the energy to continue further. I just wanted to breathe. The rivalry wasn't all so easy like it used to be. It took a lot out of me to do all these nasty things to her.
I'm working myself to death playing hockey four hours a night, even after practice and the coaching gig. Not to mention my shifts at Smelly Nellie's. And I didn't sleep much last night. I don't have the energy or, really, the taste for it like I used to. Or, at least, that was then. It really could've gone either way, that moment. Unfortunately, the fight went on. And, unbelievably, got uglier. A strange, determined look appeared in Casey's eyes. "But I will," She said with an air of absolute serenity, certainty too. "I love Sam, and he loves me." Her calm assurances sounded discordant to my ears. And so horribly false I wanted to vomit. Like that was enough. It's not.
Assuming she can even seriously believe that Sam's in love with her. I know my boy, and he is a liar.
"Sometimes love isn't enough." The way I said it came out all wrong. It made it sound like I was irritated all over again with my voice gravelly and gruff. I hadn't meant it like that. It sounded like I was bitter and maybe that much was true. What I knew was this: Casey definitely loves Sam more than he loves her. I can't say for certain whether or not he actually does love her. But, to my knowledge he hasn't cheated on her lately, and he's getting even less than usual? But Casey's supposed love for Sam is also flawed. It can't be real, you know. Not like what I feel. It's different, illusory, deceptive. How can you love someone you don't really know?
Bam, and then I was annoyed all over again. Casey stiffened like the freaking priss she is. Somehow she managed to hold her head high. "You would know, wouldn't you?" I scowled at her, but it was such a lame insult that I didn't really care to counter it. Minor blows. I rolled my eyes at her, sending her a look that said clearly that I didn't buy a word she said. Casey got huffy then, like she always does when she's trying to prove her point. Normally I find that attractive... the blood rushing to her cheeks, her eyes flashing, her lips pursing, her spine straightening. But not then. Then it was repulsing. "When it's reciprocated, it is. Love is stronger than death," She said primly.
Where'd she get that? I swear it's a song title. And since when is death the alternative? Morbid girl. Bitch put her special stress on reciprocated, didn't she? Yeah, I don't know what that's like. Big deal. "Yeah, sure it is, Darlin'," I said sarcastically, offhandedly. I paused briefly and the words just spilled out so fast I could scarcely believe it. "But is it stronger than seeing your boyfriend's lips on some guy's genitals? Of knowing that his lips aren't glossy because he's been licking them or because he's been wearing Chapstick or eating greasy foods? Or seeing his fingers up Trashy Cassy's skirt? Is it stronger than wondering if you'll get an STD? Tell me, Casey, is it stronger than wondering just what that taste is when you kiss him? Or, rather, who?"
Casey went ashen at that, and I knew I'd affected her. Because she did wonder about that sort of thing. It didn't feel so good to get down to her insecurities, but it did feel good to take a potshot at my com-Sam, whenever I could. Seriously, though... I don't think you just get over something like that. Not Casey, because she clearly hasn't... But Sam. I mean, unless he was, I dunno, experimenting? "Stronger than you, Derek," Casey rejoined vehemently. Of course, that was enough. It was right, too.
No, not stronger than me. Not necessarily.
Yet something about hearing it said like that just made me so furious. I didn't want to kill her like I did before, but I had a burning desire to prove her wrong. As much as she tried to pretend she wasn't, she was still affected by me. At least I'm not dumb enough to pretend that she doesn't still chafe at me. So I did something stupid. What else is new?
I grabbed her by the waist and placed her legs around my waist before she could protest. I know. I totally felt like one of those dancing little wussies that she does ballet with like Andrew and Timothy. Then, seconds later, her back was pressed up against a locker, and she was pinned. I didn't slam her this time, though. Speed was key. I did, however, press her into the locker slightly hard. I was trying to ignore the fact that her legs were wrapped around my waist, and that she was basically straddling me, and her arms were twined around my neck, hands buried in fistfuls of my hair (and she was pulling on the ends). She was holding on for dear life... or because she was afraid I was going to drop her. I'm not Spartacus, so I can admit that I have accidentally done that before. But not then, when my veins were bursting with adrenaline. I could've lifted a house I was so determined to prove her wrong.
My hands slid down her hips and up her thighs, stopping midway. I clutched the fabric and tried to pull down, to bunch it up, to get those offending tights off. I wanted everyone to see her bruises. I accidentally pinched her skin instead, and more angry red bruises blossomed in the shapes of streaky fingertips. She was so warm and shaking in my arms, and she smelled heavenly, like she used to, that I just wanted to bury my head in her hair and go back, back inside of her, back to when I was happy. I wanted it so badly. I think Casey was afraid that I would... but I wouldn't. I would never, not really, not ever... never. She had to know that, right? I don't take like that, and not from someone who doesn't want what I have to offer... I was just trying to teach her a lesson.
Oh, and I mis... something awful. I didn't want to hurt her either. That was just an accident. But Casey, she dropped her hands down out of my hair and off my shoulders and tugged right back. Like she thought it would preserve her modesty or something? I can't fix her broken chastity belt. I leaned forward, until I was so close she could hardly bear it. My nose almost brushed against hers. It felt like there was only a sheet of paper, thin as can be, between us, and in some places only the thin sheet of cold sweat on our skin. It reminded me of... well, never mind. I was so painfully turned on that I could hardly stand it or hide it. I tried to look her in the eyes, but she evaded my gaze like a captured animal, a fleeing little fieldmouse. She kept slipping out of my reach, that small piece of her soul.
She had the eyes of something deceptively sweet, like that kitten that grows into a sabertoothed tiger. The danger of it creeps up on you until one day you're just... lunch. She tried to buck from my grip like a spooked horse, twisting her neck about this way and that with those large, haunting eyes, like she was some kind of owl or something. Stubborn like a mule, that one, and with the same fierce kick. My grip, however, was steady and strong and firm, and I used it to keep her close, trapped between me and the wall. A little mouse in my trap. And my hands were coarse and clumsy on her thighs, sliding down now, talcon-like fingers latching onto the elastic. My nails lightly scraped her skin as I pulled down. She tried at first to swat my hands away, like my fingers were annoying swarms of tiny, insignificant mosquitoes. Hell, that's what she thinks of me, isn't it?
Casey resorted to a desperate game of Tug and War. I knew I'd eventually win, but I let the charade carry on for a little while. She had to know I was so much stronger than her. But she didn't. So we both pulled, and, predictably, the tights ripped pretty much all the way down. Nylon isn't that flexible, after all. Now, Casey, on the other hand... Mm. That I'm gonna miss. It would've been funny if the situation wasn't so serious. The tights ripping, that is. They were pretty much unwearable. Casey started wriggling and began to speak loudly, bubbling over with fury.
So I'd wrecked her perfect little mourning outfit. Mourning what, by the way, her reputation? Me being nice to her? Ha, I'm not that egocentric! As I said many moons ago, when Casey was a newbie to London, "Who died?" That shirt wasn't even ugly. I said it for principle. And like she fell for Sam? My ass. She fell because all those times I was there, insulting her. Sam is not the kind of guy a girl falls for. Or over. Or on, really. Or falls all over herself for. And, clearly, I am that kind of guy. But I digress...
The tights were kind of like her external facade. Yes, Casey, I know that word. Triple-point score, I know. They were like all the lies she'd woven and put up and safely cocooned herself in. Nothing could happen to her with that kind of back-up, you know? Makes me sick. So me destroying them was kind of like me destroying the order in her life, making her unravel at the seams. And it was as close to ripping her apart as I could come. It was equally gratifying. I wanted to expose the truth. It's her fault she picked a miniskirt that day, now isn't it?
She opened her mouth to cry out, as I was saying, and I promptly covered her mouth with a free hand. I didn't mean anything sinister by it, contrary to popular belief. Or, in this Case, Casey's belief. I just am not that diabolical. I wanted the lesson to sink in. She doesn't hold all the power, and she needs to realize that. "Admit it, Casey... come on... admit that I still affect you," I urged in a husky whisper, making sure that she felt my breath slow and heavy and wet against her throat. Casey shook her head defiantly and continued to look away, so I tilted her chin downwards, forcing her to face me with the same hand that muzzled her. I realized, perhaps idiotically, that covering her mouth was not a wise move if I wanted her to admit that her body still responded to mine, that I still had some bizarre hold over her.
She still refused, so I used my other hand to gently pull the tights the rest of the way down her legs agonizingly slowly, one leg at a time. I pressed myself more firmly against her, further closer to her, if that makes any sense. Casey grunted in surprise, and I recognized that tiny victory. She also hadn't bitten my hand yet, and that was always something. I smiled at her, that low, visceral smile she recognized and hated. Then I trailed a finger down her calf, twirling small circles on her thighs until I was almost there. She tried to drop her legs down, to let go. Her whole being kind of jerked a little, but I wouldn't let her move. I idly traced the borders of her underwear, cotton and predictably white this time, so unlike the bold black lace I'd bought for her.
Casey was uncomfortable, and she squirmed at my presence, but I wasn't up to anything, per se. I just wanted to make her very, very uncomfortable. So, while distracting her thusly, with my fingers tickling her thigh, I slowly loosened the pressure of my hand on her lips. She was so caught up in trying to ignore where my other hand was and not revolt at it that she didn't even notice when I removed my hand from her mouth entirely and used it to bring myself still closer to her. She didn't turn her head or anything, but she kept looking at me with the same wide, panicked eyes. Her lips were mostly closed, just open a smidge, but she didn't dare to say a single word. Submission.
I noticed her breathing was fast, more like panting, really, and her heart must've been thudding because her pulse was quick. I smirked then, so close my lips were practically on hers. I could taste victory. I slid both hands down her thighs slowly, and Casey sighed. Part of her hair had come undone and was in her eyes, so Casey brushed it back with the back of her hand. Her skin was hot. She swallowed hard and looked at me like she was really looking at me again. Then she squared her shoulders. "What do I have to say?" She managed tightly.
I tried not to let the smirk overcome my face. I tilted my grinning lips over to her ear, taking care not to brush against her. Sounds funny, considering her legs were wrapped around my waist and my hands were on her thighs, but that was necessary. That I could control. Little gestures like this, though, could fast spiral out of my control. "You were right, Derek. You still make my blood race and my heart pound," I cooed smugly. Casey shot me a look that plainly said, "there is no way in hell I'm saying that." I rolled my eyes and thought for a moment. It had to be truly humiliating to truly break her. I sighed, and Casey flinched. Clearly she still responds to me. "Say... you were right, Derek. I can't deny it anymore. You affect me."
Casey gave me another yeah right look and I moved my hands down the side of her legs, towards her inner thighs. Her eyes closed reflexively, and I repeated myself stubbornly. "You were right, Derek. You still affect me. It happened." I moved my hands further downward, forcing her to say what I wanted. Casey let out a low hiss and gave me a hateful look.
She bit down hard on her lip, and I forced myself to hold back. I wanted to kiss her so badly. She sighed heavily and rolled her eyes, gritting her teeth. She might as well have said a resigned fine. "You were right, Derek. You still affect me," Casey mumbled breathily. I moved still closer, making sure my hands made her even more hot and bothered without being inappropriate about it. I really wanted her to admit that it had happened. It wasn't enough to mention it or allude to it in a barb. That was defense or offense or something, her way of coping. But I wanted her to admit it. Her eyes snapped shut. "It hap-pened," She murmured hoarsely. Her voice caught on the word and it came, unwilling from her lips. Then her eyes opened and she shot me a downright pleading glance. "Just stop."
I was enjoying it a little too much, having her at my mercy and all. Yeah. I could so seduce her. Oh, but I wanted to push it a little further. I think I could've made her say anything. I didn't make her say that, though, what you're thinking. Any of it. "Ah ah ah. Call me Master," I insisted, fixing her with an unrelenting stare. I would've had her say my name, but she had no problem with that. Now, maybe if she moaned or screamed my name, but we've already gone over that. Casey's stare increased in wrath, but she did as I said. Satisfaction being achieved, I set her free.
I removed my hands from her legs abruptly, unwrapping her legs from my waist, and pulling her away from the lockers. I moved away from her as if I'd been burned, backing all the way across the hallway. Then I bowed mockingly, pantomiming lifting a hat to her, and winked at her rakishly. "Was that as good for you as it was for me, Kitten?" I drawled derisively, raising my eyebrows suggestively. I could've lit a cigarette to possibly be more obnoxious, but I didn't see the need in setting off the fire alarm. Casey shot me a disgusted look, and I suddenly noticed that she was blushing all over. She hurried to straighten up her clothes, tugging down her miniskirt and removing the ruined tights. Casey fixed her hair, straightening her spine. A stubborn, determined look passed over her features, and she charged over to me.
Her hands passed anxiously over her figure like she felt dirty. I thought it was hot. She was trying to forget the fact that I had made her admit it and made her look like an idiot. At least no one saw, right? So, naturally, she was overcompensating. However, she was still flustered, so she couldn't even think up a good broken-heart insult. "Seriously, could you still love me any more?" She bit out a bit irritably. I didn't really care, knowing she was still all hot and bothered. Mm. I was busy thinking about her naked and coming on to me. She dusted herself off in an attempt to convince herself that I hadn't just had my hands all over her. Her eyes darkened. "This means war," She declared boldly.
And mistakenly. Because there's no way in hell she could win against me. Seriously, Cruel Intentions much? Only I did sleep with her. And not on a bet. What she really meant is that I'm going to pay for that. Ooh, look at how absolutely petrified I am. Pick your pride up off the floor, Cupcake. "Don't start something you can't win, Casey. Everything up until now was just child's play. I can and will crush you if you make an enemy of me," I warned, a hint of threat in my voice. Seriously, what ammo can she possibly have that could hold up against me for even one second?
I hadn't realized I said that out loud until Casey sneered at me. "I have your heart. I know your weakness, Derek, and I won't hesitate to exploit it." Two things. One: Duh. You've been doing that this entire conversation. Two: Oh, great. Another crappy habit you've picked up from me. Yeah. Bitch will rub salt in the wound until it's even more raw. She'll put the damn appendage in a garbage disposal or meat grinder and flick the switch with pleasure. I always knew the bitch was a sadist.
"Yeah, well, who needs a metaphorical heart anyways? I've always been better off without one, and so long as the real one in my chest is beating, I'll be fine," I assured her breezily. It was mostly true, at any rate. Casey conveyed a surprising amount of nastiness with one glance. I was almost proud. "And really," I added with a touch of disgust, "Think up something new, for a change." My strength is that I am more experienced and can also attack her on multiple points. I can attack her on Sammy. I can attack her on her choice. I can attack her on being, alternatively, a priss and a slut. I can attack her appearance, her self-confidence, her weight, her dancing, her skin... I can attack her for being a dork and a keener and a bitch. And a klutz. I can even attack her on her attacking me and by mentioning the relationship we had and by coming on to her.
She's just got the heart thing. Big frickin' deal. Can't get me on the whore thing because I don't care, can't get me on messy and etcetera. All she can really do is whine about me and get me in trouble. Anything beyond that is far too complex for her. So I dunno what kind of war she thinks this is gonna be, but I assure you it'll be cold on her side. "Oh, I don't doubt that," Casey replied sweetly, flashing me an altogether saccharine smile. "It's not essential, of course, and you're a bastard anyway. However, I can make your life very painful to live. It's a sad, empty life without love, Derek," She said simply.
I wondered on that. Really, how bad can she make it? It's a dangerous thing to mess with someone's heart. It always is when emotions are involved... messy, that is. The girl shot me a look, basking in her... whatever. Just basking. Bitch. My eyes raked over her, lingering on her legs and coming back up to take the whole picture in again. Her clothes were definitely not loose-fitting. They practically looked like she'd been sewn into them. How did I not notice this before? She looks all hot and evil. Damn, I want her. "The old life doesn't taste as good as it used to, does it?"
I glowered at her, biting down a comment about how Sam tastes like other men and STDs. Damn, would've been lovely. "How, by making me sick watching you and Sam cuddle? Really, Casey. You could have sex with him, and I would only feel sorry for you. I mean, who knows where his hands and his mouth, and, well, the rest of him, have been... Or what he's got. After all, I had you first, so what's there to even be jealous about?" I jeered, rolling my eyes at her. She stiffened a bit, and her eyes got darker, but she was remarkably composed. Seriously, she couldn't make my life that miserable.
"Do I look like one of your Romantic heroes, Casey?" Actually, I look like a Byronic hero. She told me that, and I'm not really insulted. Byron was a bad-ass. For a poet, at any rate. And, y'know, disturbingly he kinda had a little somethin'-somethin' going down with his sister. Who I think had his kid. Wow. Getting creepily like my life here. "I'm not some tenderhearted emo-ass sap. I don't write gay poetry. I don't do ballet, and I don't sing. Hell, for that matter, I'm not Noel Carrington! I don't speak in flowery words or wear billowing outfits, okay? I have no notions of chivalry, and I'm not a rescuing-type. My name is not Fabio, and I am not sensitive. I am not going to whine and mope and weep, and I am definitely not going to kill myself over anything you say or do!" I bellowed, making it clear that she had absolutely no power over me. It's a lopsided fight. I'm giving her an out here, well, kinda...
Casey pursed her lips, fully aware that she could not talk me to the edge, thank you very much. Where's your power now, Miss Priss? "That Edwin rumor is the least of your troubles, Sweetcheeks. When I'm through with you, you'll be an Untouchable, a real social outcast. I don't back down from a challenge," I snarled. Every word off my lips was a promise. If she wants to go there, really go there, then why not let her? Casey's eyes narrowed in rage, and she deliberately started humming "Jesse's Girl."
Our eyes locked, and I saw the corners of her lips twitch upwards. She knew how much that got to me. How pissed it made me. Damn bitch. She walked towards me smoothly, lifting up the hem of her shirt to show me her bruises. I noted with glee the hickies I'd left. One of them happened to fall right at the hem of her skirt so that it was half-showing. "I can show Mom and George these bruises you gave me, and I can tell them about all the things you've done... And I'm sure they'll take care of it. I can even take a few liberties. And, really, who will believe all those rumors you spread about me? Remember, I'm too much of a priss to do any of those things. Being a slut would make me interesting, after all, wouldn't it? And everybody knows Sam and I haven't slept together. So, careful, you're losing ground," Casey challenged. I shrugged. Weak, but better than the same old thing.
She had a few good points. I was going to get into trouble. But she would also have to explain how she got those bruises and... I looked up suddenly with realization. "You wouldn't." She's not that much of a bitch, is she? Enough to put me in prison on charges I didn't really even do?
Casey smirked, and I felt sick inside. "I would," She said cockily, steelily, so that I was almost tempted to believe her, but I knew she wouldn't. She wasn't that much of a bitch. Although it would work, and I would at least have to admire it from that standpoint. Confessing what really happened wasn't an option, so she couldn't paint me as the pathetic lover. I suppose she could easily say that I was obsessed with her and she turned me down, but she doesn't have that kind of power. Not to overturn my reputation. Maybe if she had Max behind her, but Sam is no match. And psh, like he'd go against me? There's little evidence to support that anyways, and she'd have to admit that something happened at all. Plus she sucks at lying. She's gotten better lately, though.
I rolled my eyes. "Yeah. Right. Whatever, Slutzilla. If you want a war, you've got it. I'd shake your hand to seal the deal, but I might catch your boyfriend's Herpes. Be sure to remind him to take his Valtrex if you don't want him to spread it to you... or his other, more numerous sexual partners. Watch out for yourself... if you can," I growled, not wanting to put up with her anymore. I let out a short, barking sort of laugh. Stupid ex. Ugh. Ex. I just wanted to end the argument. That last remark sounded like, I don't know, some sort of loathsome compliment or statement of worry. Like I care. She thinks she can take me, then let her. It'll be more successful to watch her fail. "Just remember, Bitch, that you have no idea who you're messing with. Best of luck, Sis, but I'm going to be the winner here. And when it's all over, be glad that we haven't wagered on it... because you're clearly going to lose. Nevertheless, let the games begin..." I threatened malevolently, cockily assured of my own inevitable success.
Casey flinched when I called her bitch. Hm, nice to see that something still affects her. Ah, reminds me of earlier. I turned my back on her and was about to call over my shoulder when she surprised me by speaking. That one always has to get the damn last word in. "Careful, He-Bitch. It would do you well to remember that the effect works both ways, and generally in my favor." She paused briefly. "I wouldn't be so cocky if I were you. Especially since you don't have much of one. Yours is nowhere near large enough to facilitate an ego as big as yours. The winner, Himbo, remains to be seen." She means, of course, that she could turn me on painfully and tease me. And the obligatory tiny penis comments. Like she would know? Plus, dude, I've been in the locker room. Like I wouldn't know the truth of matters and who stacks up where? Rather unexpected, though, and thus, impressing.
I snorted dismissively. "Well, it sure was enough for you. Probably would be enough for your boyfriend too, if I asked," I retorted swiftly. I heard Casey's gasp. Yep. Went there, even if the territory is a little uncomfortable. I'll do anything, just about, to win an argument. "Wow, Case, isn't it sad that your boyfriend's more attracted to me than he is to you?" I bit back in a mock-innocent voice, throwing the comment over my shoulder. I didn't stick around to hear her shocked, scandalized response. I felt proud of it. It cut right to the quick, and that is what DMV is all about. Especially since I don't give him that time of day, really. Or want him. Or chase after him like a lovesick puppy. After all, he didn't have sex with people who looked like her just 'cause he wanted a piece of the action. Bet the bitch regrets telling me that, now don't you think so? "See ya at home, Prick-Tease!" I said finally before I dashed back towards the library.
I was a bit lightheaded from the fight. Adrenaline was pumping furiously in my veins, but I felt strong. I'd won Round One! Now, time to get dirty. I quickly bypassed our school's filter to hack into MySpace. Casey didn't have one. Bwahaha. It's Lesbian MySpace time, friends. Straight-as-an-arrow-Casey will be appalled. Would bisexual sound better? 'Cause, I mean, then her and Sammo would have something in common... Y'know, I should write these down.
I quickly set up the basics, using an old Yahoo email account of mine, making it so anyone could see, and readily supplying her age, birthday, school, and location. I typed in, well, you know what as her sexual orientation... It makes me smile to think of it. I just barely resisted adding an actual address. That would be messy. I don't think I'll bore you with the details, but I said that she loved sex and was into kinky things and, well, you get the drift...
By the time I was done, the bell had rung, so I quickly logged off MySpace and then the computer. I would put up the pictures later. I had a bunch of pictures of Casey stashed on my computer. Some of them rather risqué, but whatever. I could've taken naked pictures of her, you know, and I didn't. That was classy of me. And besides, this way I wasn't posting kiddie porn. I also had some rather interesting video, although definitely not a sex tape. Rather unfortunate, eh? But I figured I'd have to ask her permission for that.
The school day was generally uneventful. I decided it would be too much trouble to start a new rumor. One a week should do it. The newspaper will come out in a week or two, so I'm sure she'll get charges for that. I single-handedly revived her unflattering nicknames, and, well, that was all I could do at school. Or all I would do. I wanted to lull her into a false sense of confidence and security. Tomorrow I'm going to start getting guys to swear they've slept with Casey and that she sucked. As in was bad, not as in how Sam... Well, actually, both are true for Sam. And I suppose, well... I have a lot of plans in this devious noggin of mine.
That day I actually drove her home like I'm supposed to. We exchanged only glares all the way home, barely maintaining civility once we got inside. Like I said, there's a reason I ignored her. It occurred to me in the silence that I needed to break the one last thing that was keeping me from really getting over Casey: my two and a half weeks of chastity. It was like I was a technical virgin, or, really, just a virgin all over again. I didn't want to lose that special virginity I'd gained by hooking up with some random meaningless slut who won't ever hold a candle to... Well, it's time to pop that cherry. No more celibacy for me.
A sudden idea registered and I hurriedly dialed a number, requesting the presence of a certain lady friend who would be just perfect. "Hey," I began somewhat awkwardly. "It's me. Derek." The voice on the other line was a bit shrill, and definitely annoyed.
"You have a lot of nerve calling here, Venturi, after what happened the last time I saw you."
I nodded, trying to sound as apologetic as I could. I really was kind of apologetic. I sighed. "Yeah, look, I know. I'm sorry about that... if I embarrassed you. I wanted to... Look, I really did. And... the reason I stopped... totally wasn't worth it." Okay, so that was a lie. But I do kinda regret what happened. With this girl, not just the Casey fiasco that I'm not thinking about. I paused to suck in a breath. "So... Do you want to come over tonight? The parents are out until late, and the siblings can be easily disposed of. We could have a little fun..." I proposed suggestively.
The girl let out a huffy sigh that reminded me very much of the reason I was doing this in the first place. "Well, that's good to know, Derek," She replied slowly. She paused deliberately. "I'm not seeing anyone right now, and you did show me a good time... And it does help that you're a hell of a kisser," She mused, thinking it over. It sounded like I was winning. Or not. However, she paused again, and this time I sensed that she was frowning. "But it's an awfully long way to come..."
I saw my opening. "Oh, trust me, you'll come," I interjected. I heard her scoff over the phoneline.
"Cocky much?" Wow, she really did sound like Casey. She managed a sly laugh though. "But you're probably right..." She added in a lower voice. I could just imagine her, poised with a finger to her lip. "Okay, Venturi, I want to know what kind of deal this is gonna be. I like to go into things with my eyes wide open. So, is this gonna be some one-time thing where you "lose" my number and never call me again, or am I gonna wind up as some booty-callgirl... or what?" She said quite frankly.
I was impressed by this show of assertiveness. But I didn't really know how to answer the question. "Well... I really don't think I could possibly lose your number, especially with you being as hot as you are... So I don't really see it as being a one-time thing. Let's just... see where it goes?" I offered somewhat helplessly, crossing my fingers and hoping she'd agree.
She thought it over a minute. "Okay, Derek. Sounds good. You know how much I love any opportunity to piss Casey off. I'll see you in a couple hours. Oh, and you're totally paying for my bus fare. It's the least you can do," She decided rather bossily.
I nodded. Excellent! I smirked. Oh, trust me, I had plenty of pissing off Casey in mind. "Anything to see you again," I murmured flirtatiously. "I'll be seeing you."
She sounded a little excited, but it was hard to tell from her flat tone. "Yeah. Bye, Derek." Ah, sweet victory. That's ironic, given who I'm seeing, but... I think this will turn out very good. Very productive.
Nora and Dad had this law firm business reception after dinner, and they would be out late, so my guest could easily come and have a little fun with me. Nora and Dad wouldn't be home for a while, so I took advantage of the time I had. I crashed on my bed. Someone would come wake me up for dinner, or, at least, to yell at me, and then I could see Casey's humiliation around approximately seven or eight. The perfect dessert. Indeed, my pain-in-the-ass little brother woke me up several hours later, crying "Dinner!" I'll skip over the dinner (Meatloaf), the beginnings of a lecture I got (quite a lot, from both parents), and the simple punishments I was charged with. I had to take Casey's mattress out of her room and to the curb and bring the new one in, among other things.
I patiently reminded them of my concussion and how I wasn't supposed to exert myself. Doctor's orders. Nevertheless, I went upstairs and dragged the mattress out of Casey's room easily. She'd stripped the sheets earlier to clean them. Okay, I did it with a bit of difficulty. It was soaked, predictably, all the way through. I was proud. The "SLUT" was burned in darkly and stood out sharply. It was burned almost the whole way through. I grinned proudly and took the thing out to the curb. Marti interrupted to ask what the word meant, and I referred her to Casey gleefully. I dragged the new mattress in her room, and Casey scurried in to put new sheets on her bed without even so much as a thank-you.
Honestly, by that point, I was a bit worn out, but it was sevenish, so I retired to my recliner to wait for our two guests. Nora and Dad were about to leave when, suddenly, the door rang. Edwin went to answer it. I heard a rather low, raspy voice that could only be a man trying to be a woman. "Hey, Cutie. I'm here to see your big sis, Casey." I grinned gleefully and had to resist dashing to the door to get a look at the (wo)man. Edwin turned to frown at me and called Lizzie down. His voice was full of alarm. He didn't invite the stranger in. A wise move. Then he went to get Casey, who came down the stairs, scowling.
She was arguing with Edwin over who it could possibly be. I took this opportunity to get up and see who was at the door. Predictably, there stood a tranny in all of his/her glory. This was not a classy tranny, but s/he did have glossy red hair that looked real and a somewhat womanly face. S/he had boobs too. "Her" make-up was in loud colors. S/he was wearing bold blue eye shadow that went all the way up to her painted-on comma eyebrows, a little too much blush, and neon pink lipstick that looked as sticky as maple syrup. Being a prostitute, s/he was dressed scantily, wearing a leopard-print mini-skirt, electric purple high-heels, and a flimsy half-see-through tube top that did not cover near enough. S/he had skinny legs because obviously, s/he was a man and guys just have better muscle mass. But he was a bit too mannish.
When s/he saw Casey, he looked excited. Casey's eyes were wide. She eyed the person before her with something like disgust. Probably at the tacky outfit or bad make-up. "You must be Casey. Angel, you're so much prettier than you sounded on the phone! I'm Kassondra!" Casey frowned and was about to say something when Kassondra sauntered up to Casey, eagerly glancing around the house. "So, Baby, where do you want to start things? In the bedroom or do you want to get freaky? I'm up for anything you are," Kassondra asked brightly. Casey's jaw dropped as she suddenly grasped the (wo)man's meaning.
She bit her lip, which was hot. "Uh, I'm sorry, but I think you must have the wrong house," Casey managed awkwardly.
Kassondra shook her head. "Nope, Angel. You repeated it twice on the phone for me, and I wrote it down. I mean, you are Casey McDonald, right?" Kassondra declared cheerily, coming on inside. S/he made sure to show Casey the piece of paper s/he'd written on. It was unmistakably our address. S/he carried with her a large, hideous green purse filled with God-knows-what. S/he paused, glancing around our house as if searching for someone. "Angel, where's your Sammy?" S/he questioned, still peering about.
Casey frowned and proceeded to freak out. "Sam, as in my boyfriend, Sam?!" Kassondra nodded distractedly and walked further into the house. Casey followed her, and Edwin shrugged and shut the door. "He called you?" Casey demanded, starting to sound a bit hysterical. See, she thought Sam had regressed to his old habits, you see.
Kassondra frowned and shook "her" head. "No, Angel. Of course not. You did. Don't you remember?" At Casey's clearly clueless (but relieved) look, Kassondra went on. S/he gave her a look like s/he thought she was crazy. I had a feeling I was going to get into trouble, so I leaned against the wall and just watched. "You said to come all the way up here... And you told me the whole story about Sam, and I just remember how tragic it was. But you said that if that was what made him happy, then you were more than willing to try it. With me and with him. So I'm just wondering where he is so we can get the party started, Casey," Kassondra exclaimed quite sweetly.
Casey turned pink, realizing what this stranger knew and what s/he expected of her. Then she turned to me, likely realizing who had done this to her. Her glare spoke more than words could express. "I'm sorry," She replied in a detached voice, "but you must be mistaken. I never said anything like that." She never would, either. Kassondra got a bit pissed at that, since she obviously thought she'd heard her on the phone, so they argued for a bit.
Casey frowned, pursing her lips. Then she nodded calmly, shooing the children away and ordering them to see our parents off, who not only were still in the house but had witnessed the entire scene. I know, pure genius, right? She turned back to Kassondra, flinching and pulling away when Kassondra touched her. Then she looked over at me, smiling sweetly. She practically ran over to me, throwing herself on me, to get away from Kassondra. "Okay," She said tightly. She licked her lips and looked at me before turning back to Kassondra. "But he goes first. Seeing the two of you together would be a huge turn-on for me, and well, he can see the two of us together after he's already been satisfied once. Then we'll all be together," Casey declared bossily, in a tone that made it sound like she was actually considering it.
Damn it. Assertive, considering-a-threesome Casey is hot (even though I knew it was all just an act). Just... damn.
She smiled at me sweetly, pressing me to her side for a moment. It was sorta nice. She smelled really good. Then she gestured at me, smacking me in the chest. "This is Sam, my boyfriend," She lied smoothly. You know, I never thought she'd call me that again, much less in front of anyone else, but I never imagined she'd do it in this situation. Touché, Case. She leaned in closer towards Kassondra, and said in a clear, conspiratorial whisper, "He likes to suck." So like her real boyfriend. She winked at Kassondra and abruptly pushed me towards her/him. "He's all yours." I practically fell into Kassondra.
However, as usual, Case made the mistake of underestimating her enemy. I snatched her arm back. "Case, you called her. To service you," I rejoined with a grin smile. "Now I want to see some servicing!" I thrust her towards Kassondra. Eventually, however, we both maneuvered out of her company, and Kassondra left very frustrated and confused. That, of course, is a story for another day. I did, however, slip her some of Edwin's money. A twenty and another one for gas. It was worth it for how flustered Casey got, and there would definitely be questions from the 'rents. Casey was absolutely humiliated and furious, especially when the kids asked about it.
By that point, my lovely guest was going to be there soon, so I sent Marti to stay the night at a friend's house, and had the kids run off to an ice cream joint. Casey, well, screw her. Not in the fun way. Meh. I think she was doing laundry. I went and put on some fresh cologne, cleaned myself up a bit, adjusted my hair to look better for her. And then the doorbell ring. I made sure Casey didn't answer it because I didn't want her to know who was going to be my first post-break-up screw. Besides, I had secret plans to annoy her with it anyways. So I dashed to the door, opening it to reveal the beautiful Victoria, my hot step-cousin. Yeah, I know. You're thinking I really have a thing for people I'm related to. Not true, or else I would've moved on to my little brother's main squeeze, although I am also not a pedophile.
Victoria's perfect, though. Gorgeous face, smoking body, and more of a match for me than Casey had ever been. I mean, okay, so she's a stone-cold bitch, but hell, Casey makes her look good! And that's another thing... This is really all about Casey. It's so she can't hold this over my head anymore. But I chose Vicky because Casey hates her, and Vicky looks like Casey's twin. It's easier to pretend like this. I mean, I'm sure she's also great in bed, and she's kind of easy... Plus she's really hot, although I don't think she'd sleep with me if she knew about me and Casey, but whatever...
Victoria smiled and walked right up to me, hands on her hips. She checked me out three times before grinning slowly and taking another step towards me. "Lookin' good, Derek," She murmured, putting a hand on my arm. "Have you been working out?" She squeezed my bicep, and I nodded. Victoria smiled. "Good. I like that. You'll have to flex for me sometime," She murmured flirtatiously, eying me shamelessly. She looked very pleased with what she saw. I smiled back at her my most charming smile.
"You're so hot, Victoria," I practically panted, taking in the skintight red dress that was so alien from something Casey would wear. She threw her coat on the coach, smiling at me lopsidedly. I wanted to tell her a lot of things, like the fact that I meant it, that I wasn't just saying it... And that I really wasn't just doing this because of Casey. I leaned in close to her as if drinking her in from head to toe. My eyes passed over her hungrily, lingering on her legs, her thighs, her breasts, her lips, and then, finally, her eyes. I let out a deep breath, more than pleased by what I saw. I had to bite back the crude thing I was going to say.
But then I realized that Vicky was not Casey. Vicky actually liked me... enough. She's not Casey. So I said exactly what I was thinking. "I want to tear off all your clothes and take you right now," I practically growled, licking my lips. I meant it too. Victoria's eyes darkened, but a pleased little grin played on her lips. I couldn't remember ever wanting someone so bad or so desperately. It was so bad that it was... I mean, I'd had moments like this with Casey, but they were generally never moments where having sex with her was an option. That was back when she hated me, you know, but before she slept with me. Victoria leaned in, fingering my collar.
"I'd like that," She whispered. "But not on that ugly couch or this floor." And there's the snob in her. Casey, who is ten million times more prissy, was not so picky. In fact, she let me do that on both the couch and the floor. And my recliner and the stairs and the landing, and up against the wall in the hallway (and the one in the foyer in the same spot as...), and in the shower, and against the sink twice, and on the kitchen counter, and against the front door, and on the dining room table, and on top of the washer and then the dryer, and in her room, and in my bed, and on the stairs up to the attic... And one time in the car. Wow, I should really not think about that. Or else I might let slip the wrong name, and then no one's getting off.
Her lips brushed against my ear. There was even a brief flick of tongue. "Tell me more." A woman who liked to be in charge. Well, that was... not as much of a change as I was hoping for. Reminded me of my relationship with Casey. I guess that's just what I get for hitting on her cousin.
I gave her what she asked for, as I always do. After all, I aim to please, and my aim is always spot-on. I don't remember what I said to her, but I remember breathing every dirty thing I wanted to do to her in her ear. My words traveled down her neck and made her shiver. She swallowed hard periodically, when I said something really good, something she really liked. I crushed her in my arms, capturing her. I trailed my arms down her sides, pulling her closer, rubbing up against her.
Vicky purred in my ear, "How's your stamina?" Her voice wasn't near husky enough, I decided. She still sounded far too in control. I made it my mission to distract her. I pressed a soft kiss to her throat before answering.
"I practice hockey four hours a day... I could go all night," I muttered hoarsely. My lips found their way further down her neck, and I nipped lightly at the flesh there. She tasted good, like some sweet, flowery perfume and something salty. Vicky moaned when I found a particularly sensitive spot.
She exhaled heavily. "Oh, that feels good, Derek... Do it again," Vicky begged breathlessly. I smiled against her skin for a minute before doing as she asked. Her fingers dug into my hair, hard, messing it up. Her fingernails were sharp as knives and painted blood red. Her eyes fluttered open as my lips moved over her collarbone in rapid succession, pressing butterfly kisses against her skin. "How..." I increased the pressure, licking and kissing my way down to her cleavage. I was already groping around for buttons or zippers. The next word died on her lips, but I knew what it was. Long? Hard? Big? Much? Doesn't take much admiration.
"I'm a hockey player," I pointed out dimly. "I've got a big stick." Take that innuendo as you will. And yes, I know I sound like a bad porno. Do you really think I care? I pushed Victoria's dress down a little and sucked harder, snapping hungrily at her skin. She tasted too good to be true... or mine. I felt her shudder in pain and pulled back hastily. "I need you, Victoria," I managed pleadingly. Her eyes locked with mine, and her knees buckled as I attacked her lips ravenously. Victoria, the hardest girl I knew, was weak in the knees. She nodded briefly, digging her nails in the back of my neck, tugging on my hair.
In one fluid motion, I picked her up bridal-style and started to carry her up the stairs. We remained attached at the lips. She was so light and so soft that it took everything I had to climb the damn things. My eyes were half-closed. She really knew what she was doing. She was one hell of a good kisser, but I knew that already. She was better at everything than Casey. Already her hands were slipping under my shirt. But it wasn't the same.
I forced my eyes open and found Casey's room. I quickly pushed open the door, kicking it closed behind me but making sure it wasn't locked. I set Victoria down, needing to catch my breath. Victoria glanced around Casey's room, eying it with distaste. She frowned at me. "Why are we in Casey's room?" She questioned, wiping off her smeared lipstick. She sounded almost a little suspicious, but I didn't care. "I thought we were going to..." She let the sentence end there, fixing me with a look.
I shrugged. "You said you wanted to piss her off, and so do I. Here's our opportunity," I explained, gesturing to Casey's bed. White sheets. How frickin' typical! I just want to mess them up, ruin her damn perfection one more time. I smiled at Vicky seductively, patting the bed. "It's a brand new mattress. Don't you want to break it in?" I replied suggestively. I didn't bother to wipe the lipstick off my mouth. With all luck, Casey would walk in on us. Vicky looked interested in this plan, so I motioned once again to the bed hopefully. "Christen it with me?" I implored flirtatiously, desperately wanting her to do it.
Vicky smirked just like I would. Anything to piss Casey off was what she was thinking. I agreed wholeheartedly. She cozied up to me, practically flying at me, but I maneuvered it so I was on top. We both kicked off our shoes before attacking and stripping each other in a frenzy. Her hands found the hem of my t-shirt and ripped it off before sliding snakelike down to my waist to fumble with my belt buckle. Her dress, I found, had no zipper, so I pushed it up millimeter by millimeter. Her fast, dexterous fingers unbuttoned and unzipped my jeans, pulling them down far enough so that I could kick them off. Then she put her arms up and I pulled the dress over her head, peeling it away from her skin, revealing skimpy lingerie.
Guess who knows Victoria's Secret now?
And what a good secret it was. I stared at her for a good moment before desire overcame me, and I was unable to hold back. I hurled myself back against her in earnest, unsnapping the clasps of her bra so quickly I almost ripped them off. My hands tugged the straps down, peeling it from her skin. I wanted to get closer, to feel her soft, supple skin on mine. I'd missed the human contact. Victoria gasped when I started kissing my way across her chest. She sat up for a moment, forcing me to pause for a moment while she pulled the sheets over us.
I was surprised at the show of modesty, but I suppose she didn't want her cousin to walk in on her all uncovered. I kissed and licked my way down her stomach. Vicky sighed, pulling me closer, pressing me against her. Her nails left angry red trails on my back. I deftly removed her underwear, tossing the lacy thong behind me. I was aiming for Casey's desk. Vicky jerked my boxers down and off, chucking them to the side. Then she wrapped her legs around my waist, and thoughts were no longer an option.
She was good, like a pro. A thousand times better than Casey. But not Casey. Enough about that bitch, though, okay? Enough.
We were just starting to get into it when... I was in full stride, and Vicky was shaking, practically levitating off the bed. She started out whispering my name, but as the rhythm sped up, her cries got louder. I heard some vague noise behind us, a sort of creak, but I ignored it. Victoria's eyes were closed, her skin sticky with sweat. I heard a soft gasp, but I figured it was just Vicky.
"DER-EK! What the hell are you doing in my bed, banging some slut?" Casey shrieked, sounding absolutely horrified. You answered your own question there. Idiot. I was annoyed but not turned off. Victoria, however, was. The noises died on her lips. She ceased to move, lying beneath me limply. She tried to hide under the covers, but I turned back to see Casey scowling at me over my shoulder. I scowled at her before plastering on the classic obnoxious smirk.
"Oh, Sis, I think that much was obvious. I was getting laid. Do you have a problem with that?" I countered bluntly, feeling rather irritated. Of course she wrecks my chances. Of course. Bitch. Casey glowered at me, walking towards me. A look of disgust passed over her face. Like I care.
I scowled right back. She rolled her eyes. "Yes, considering it's my bed and my room, and I walked in on you screwing some random whore. You've probably contaminated it!" Casey growled, sounding positively appalled. Victoria was strangely silent. I was surprised. It wasn't like her to hide. She wasn't known for her modesty anyways. But, seriously, was she just going to lie there and let Casey call her a slut?
"Not the first whore to be screwed in this room, Case," I retorted warningly, eying her disparagingly. I almost said not the first whore I've screwed in this room. Lucky for her I didn't, isn't it? I frowned at her. "Do you mind, Bitch? I have something to finish here," I snapped irately, turning back to Vicky, wanting her to leave the room so I could get the pent-up tension and energy out of me. All I want to do is get off. Casey refused to budge, and I turned abruptly to face her again, pissed off. "Don't just stand there staring and watching, Casey. Either go or join in. I don't care, but either way, I'm going to get of... get what I want," I interjected bluntly. I knew she'd never go for that, but I was hoping she'd leave. Vicky shifted in discomfort, and I could tell she wasn't happy with me propositioning her cousin while I was still inside of her. I, however, was too frustrated to care. "Now."
Casey huffed but refused to leave. I gave her a suggestive look which she rebuffed with an icy glance. Nope, still painfully turned on here. "What about your little lady of the night, Derek? She sure hasn't shown her face yet. Is it because she's really a he, or because she's got her lips around a certain part of your anatomy?" Casey quipped nastily. Oh, she's one to talk, isn't she? Victoria, of course, took that as an affront. She became angry and saw no point in preserving the illusion of modesty or her cousin's respect (neither of which I ever thought she cared about). She sat up a little and immediately turned to stare at Casey fiercely, showing no signs of the mortification that had possessed her before.
If it was possible, Casey looked even more horrified. "Vicky?" She gasped, absolutely stunned. I grinned smugly.
Victoria rolled her eyes and managed a tight smile. "The one and only, Cuz," She managed icily. "And it's Victoria," She corrected nastily. I grinned at Victoria. I loved the nasty side of her. Reminded me of Casey the Bitch only Victoria's nice to me. Casey looked pale, like she was going to seriously throw up. I felt gleeful at the prospect. With the Cheshire Cat grin glued to Vicky's face, I'd say she shared the same sentiments.
Casey shook her head in disbelief. We stayed there in that awkward silence for a few moments before Casey found her voice. And I do mean awkward, since I was still inside of her cousin. She avoided looking at us. Us, not me. She immediately sent me a powerful, hateful glare. "Get off my cousin, you bastard," She ordered in a voice that was very level. Her tone was serious. I disobeyed her purposefully, protecting Vicky and my own self-interest.
She refused to back down from a fight, as did I. Victoria just looked annoyed since Casey had ruined it for her. "No," I proclaimed defiantly, not budging from the spot. If I want to ride her cou... mount her cousin, then I'll damn well do it! Casey reached out to snatch my arm, and I dodged her grip expertly. Vicky, who was growing increasingly irritated, chose that moment to intervene.
"Look, Casey, just go away. Derek and I have some... unfinished business."
Casey snorted. "More like unfinished orgasm." Witty, Case. Vicky raised an eyebrow, leaning up on an elbow. My ex... I mean, Casey... crossed her arms over her chest. She got that determined glint in her eyes again. "I am not about to let you have sex in my room. I will get you to go, and I don't care if I have to rip the sheets off the bed and throw you out myself!" Casey vowed. She glared at me so viciously that I actually thought she was going to do as she said. Vicky, who was a little apprehensive about the thing, attempted to pull away.
I stopped her by placing my hands on her shoulders. I fixed her with an intense look. I would've kissed her too, but Casey was there, and, as I was fully aware... still watching us. Not that I didn't get a perverse kick out of that, mind you, but Victoria definitely wasn't into it. Sure, Casey was family, but that didn't mean she wanted her to see her having sex. I just didn't care because I live to piss her off, and, hell, I've already been with Casey. So I turned over my shoulder to face Casey once again. "What, Casey, is someone jealous?" I retorted mockingly. Vicky was understandably not amused and attempted to pull the sheets up to cover everything.
I thought it was a legitimate question. After all, it would've been her in bed with me two weeks ago. I thought my suggestive tone was definitely warranted. Casey turned just the slightest bit paler, but her rage increased drastically. Casey rolled her eyes at me. "No, actually, Derek. I do not want to be in Vicky's place, as unbelievable as that is to you," Casey practically spat, making it perfectly clear that she was not at all jealous. I shot her a dirty look though and barely managed to resist patting the bed. Funny, 'cause you were in her place. Two weeks ago. Casey's lips tightened. "I just want you to get the hell out of my bed before I have to call George and tell him that his son his screwing his cousin," She snarled rather maliciously.
Victoria sat up at that, clutching the sheets around her chest. I was surprised to notice that she looked somewhat worried. However, she also looked offended, probably because that cousin remark made her sound so white trash. I jumped to defend her. "It's step-cousin, and you'd know that better than anyone, now wouldn't you, Casey?" I rejoined bitterly. Casey turned about twelve shades paler this time, and, well, that sure shut her up. Victoria placed her hand on my chest softly, looking confused. I couldn't exactly blame her, but I ignored her silent inquiries all the same.
What happened was between Casey and me. Just us and not Vicky. It's my cross to bear. I focused my stare on Casey, knowing I could make her capitulate. Besides, she should be happy that I'm screwing someone else instead of bothering her. She frowned at me in distaste, looking slightly green. "Besides, Sis, you forget how much I know about you and what you've been doing lately. Blackmail is a two-way street. So, if you want your dirty little secret... your mistake, I believe you called it... to remain a secret, then you'd better get the hell out," I snapped poisonously. And I always win, Case. You should get used to that.
If it was possible, Casey turned even paler. She knew I had her there, and it was almost sad, really, how petrified she was of the fact that she screwed me getting out. Still, Casey gave me a fierce look, a look that said: I know what you're doing, Derek. I know that you're just in bed with my cousin because she looks like me. And it's not going to work because she isn't the real thing. Screwing her won't make you forget. Yeah, I know... A lot to communicate with one look. Casey slowly turned on her heel. "You can starch your sheets later, Slutzilla," I called out victoriously after her. I glanced over at a smirking Victoria, who was pleased at how I'd put Casey in her place.
Hell, so was I. Victory tastes so much sweeter than defeat. "Someday, you know, you'll have to tell me what you have on her," She whispered, giggling a little. Fat chance. Then you'll never sleep with me again.
Casey walked to the door stiffly, shooting us one final, condemning look. "Whore-ick and Icky Vicky. A match made in heaven," She quipped disgustedly, shaking her head silently before locking the door behind her. I snorted. Wow, original, Case.
Alone at last. "We might as well start back up again." That was all the encouragement Vicky needed to be all over me, muttering about how hot that was. So I kissed her again, harder, and she let me do everything I wanted, but I couldn't forget that stupid look in Casey's eyes. And the resemblance between them really didn't help. Because that look was right about at least one thing. No matter how hard I try and pretend otherwise, she's not the real thing. And by virtue of that alone, nothing I did with her could ever be quite satisfying enough.
Because she's not Casey.
Loren ;
Reviews are seriously appreciated, friends!