John took a long drag off his cigarette, glancing at his watch out of the corner of his eye. Five more minutes. That's all the longer he was waiting. He hated this. Hated more that he went along with it than anything else. He knew what he was, more aptly what he wasn't, but he shouldn't be delegated to late night meetings around her schedule.
And yet, the moment he saw her car pull up to the corner furthest away from the streetlight thoughts of why their arrangement should bother him left his mind. It suited her, the car. Red the color of her hair. Well, not quite, but close. It had to be a custom paint job and certainly hadn't been cheap to come by.
Then nothing about her was cheap, he mused as he got into the passenger's seat. He barely had the door shut and she tore away from the intersection, tires squealing on the pavement. She was lucky there wasn't a cop around. Of course pigs never picked on good girls like Claire Standish. If he'd been behind the wheel ten of them would have come out of the woodwork as if they'd been waiting for him specifically.
They went to their usual spot. He could find it blindfolded by now. She had picked it out. He had never asked why, so had no clue what significance the dead end street in an industrial area had for her. For all he knew her daddy's business could be back here somewhere and she got off knowing they were doing the deed right in front of him. More or less.
The radio was tuned to a classic rock station, Tom Petty was the artist of the moment as they clambered into the backseat. Shoes were left haphazardly in the front seat, neither wasting what time they had.
Yeah, nothing about her was cheap. From the designer clothes she had on to the lacy panties and bra that no doubt came from Victoria's Secret to the diamond stud she wore in one ear. He had the mate but never wore it. He wouldn't give her the satisfaction of knowing it meant that much to him.
She knew, of course. He'd never had a steady girl before now. If she could be considered his girl. It was kind of ironic, though, really. John was the one used to treating girls as if they were nothing, meant little to him in the grand scheme of things.
As his mouth found one of her breasts and he took one of her nipples into his mouth, the shoe was on the other foot this time. He was the one being treated that way. Only when they were apart or he was waiting for her did it really bug him.
She liked it that way. He was her secret. If her high brown family or friends found out that they were here right now in the backseat of her car about to do it she'd be ridiculed to hell and back.
He liked what she did to him, though. He'd thought that day in detention she'd be a prude to the hundredth degree. And then some. She was nothing like he'd expected at all. Her taking hold of his hard-on with no hesitation and stroking it just the way she knew he liked was proof of that.
The sounds she made as he sucked and bit her nipples was more proof. Particularly when he slid his hand down the front of her lacy panties. He slid his finger along her oh so slick folds before finding her clit, bringing her over the edge in no time at all. She cried out so loud he thought she'd shatter the car window. Tonight was no exception.
She never rushed him. Them. This. They took their time, getting their fill of one another before their time together had to end.
Sometimes after he'd come they'd sit in the backseat, smoke a cigarette or a joint and talk. She was surprisingly easy to talk to when they were like this. Alone. No worries about her status being diminished by being seen talking with him.
Sadly, he did it, kept meeting her on that darkened street corner because for that little while, those few precious hours they were together, intimately like she'd never been with anyone but him. It was magic.
He'd always thought people who talked of that sort of feeling when it game to girls or sex were all kinds of tripping.
And it was why he was willing to remain her dirty little secret. For now. Eventually, he'd grow tired of it. They both knew it. Even he had his dignity, though it'd been on hiatus for a few months now. One day, though, and he had to admit in some ways he dreaded it because he liked her. Maybe even loved her, he couldn't be sure it wasn't a familiar emotion to him at all.
Yeah, for a bit of that magic he'd keep on pretending at school he didn't know what she felt like, tasted like, and sounded like when she was getting fucked. They did more than fuck, but he couldn't bring himself to name it because that would put feeling - meaning - behind it. And then he'd probably come all sorts of undone.
One thing he did know for sure, secrets were meant to be broken, and eventually this one would be no exception. And when it happened, he'd be there to pick up the pieces, hoping she'd let him. Then again, she wouldn't have much choice because she'd be pretty much cast aside like yesterday's road kill.
Yeah, she'd let him and he'd make her forget that anyone's opinion but his mattered. He could do that, make her forget anything and everything but him. He didn't do it often, because she was always distant afterward when he got her to relinquish so much control. But it was a power trip of the best kind so he always enjoyed it when he did.
She took a toke off the joint, fusing her mouth with his to share the smoke with him. She slid her mouth along his jaw, to his ear and kissed it, settling herself on his cock as she felt him hard and ready for her again. Her hands ran along his chest, she always did that when she was real excited and in the moment. Touched him, cherished him, made that magical feeling he felt all the more intense.
She came hard and fast, gasping as she came down from the effects.
"I see stars," she whispered.
"There are a few of them out tonight, yeah," he said, not bothering to glance out the window to actually confirm that.
"Not those kinds of stars, silly," she said, sounding breathless.
"Oh," he said.
"Yeah, I'm sure it sounds silly to you."
There was a long, uncomfortable silence between them. It was the only time they seemed to fall into a weird thing when she touched on feelings.
"Nah, I see 'em, too, Princess."
She nestled against his chest. They'd stay like this for a little while longer and then it would be time to go. She'd drop him off at their street corner and head home to her comfortable bed. Would she dream about him? He'd never asked, almost afraid of the answer but she would have to if he was the only person she was having sex with.
"Good," she said softly.