Trophy Son(13)

She began to make soft grunts of confusion and frustration. Her annoyance grew to the point of a pause and full harrumph, but she didn’t give up. She came back on me with game perseverance until finally I felt a tingle. A promising accumulation of blood flow.

I could sense that she sensed it as well and she began to work more furiously, determined to be victorious and keep what must have been a perfect record of male arousal.

Her momentum built, as did mine, and in a moment I was fully erect.

She leaned back and held me up like a jeweler showing a pocket watch on a chain and instructed, “It should come to me in this condition.”

From there it took her less than two minutes to finish me off. She stood and looked up into my eyes. “What a wonderful intruder you are.”

“Wow, Liz.”

She laughed. “Better than jogging in Valley Forge Park?”

“Well, it’s different. And a million times better.”

“You want a beer?”

“No, I better not.” Don’t be an ass. This was a moment. First blow job. “Actually I’ll have one. Sounds good.”

She went to the kitchen, still wearing the black thong, and came back with two Bud bottles. I wondered what sex would feel like.

“So we’re on for tonight?” she said.

“Yup.”

“What’s the plan?”

“Still a surprise, you’ll see soon enough.” I had tickets to see the Dave Matthews Band at the Mann Music Center, an outdoor amphitheater.

“Sorry we can’t get started sooner, but, you know, we cheerleaders have responsibilities.”

“I know. I wouldn’t want the football team to have no cheers.”

“It’s alumni weekend. Bunch of old people walking around. Meet you here after? Around seven?”

“Great.”

I was sitting next to her on the sofa of the living room. She pivoted over me to straddle my lap and wrapped her arms around my head. She gave me a long kiss with relaxed lips and an active tongue.

“Anton, you are such a good person and I love you. I always thought it would be ignorant and provincial to marry a high school sweetheart, but here I am, in love with you. What else can you do when you meet your soul mate in high school? You’re the love of my life.”

I pulled her in for more kissing. I held her hips and moved her back and forth over me in a rhythm that was the closest I’d been to sex. I was hard again. Good to be sixteen.

“I have to get ready, Lover,” she said. “I’ll see you at seven.”





CHAPTER

9

After the beer I jogged anyway then hit some balls with Dad and by four o’clock was showered, dressed and bored so I decided to check out my beautiful girlfriend in her cheerleader outfit. Dad was on the sofa watching a Phillies game while Mom read a book in her bedroom.

I got to the game in the fourth quarter and a sea of people circled the football field. I stood rows back near the corner of one end zone and could see Liz but barely. She wore a vest and a miniskirt and pom poms in the red and white school colors. The home team was up 28–14 and everyone was happy on our side.

At the final whistle the players ran to midfield and the cheerleaders turned to the crowd behind the home sideline and waved pom poms. The crowd stayed thick, talking about the good win for the program. I worked my way toward the field but in a moment the players went off in a jog to the gym followed by jogging cheerleaders.

I knew the layout of the school but none of the people so I kept making slow progress to where I knew the gym and the locker rooms to be. Kids streamed in and out of the buildings so I walked as though I could be one of them.

Near the women’s locker room a girl’s voice said, “Anton!”

I turned to see a cheerleader. She was still in her cheerleader outfit and had put a trench coat over it. I recognized her from the eighth grade years ago, but couldn’t remember her name. “Hi.”

“Good to see you. How are you?”

“Good, things are good. Still in the area.”

“Great. Gosh, I haven’t seen you in so long. What are you doing here?”

“I’m looking for Liz.”

“Liz Betterton?”

“Yeah.”

“Oh.” She looked curious, or maybe disappointed. “Okay. Well, she’s not in here,” and she thumbed toward the women’s locker room behind her. “She was walking to the pool last I saw her.” She adjusted the shoulders of her coat and hustled off.

“Thanks.” Erica, I remembered her name, too late.

I walked down the corridor toward the pool, the smell of chlorine getting stronger as I went. The way was bright with fluorescent lighting but no one was around. The men’s and women’s locker rooms were in the opposite direction.

At the end of the corridor, two metal swinging doors led to the pool. I pushed through to warmer air heavy with pool chemicals. Fifteen feet ahead were two cheerleaders by the pool’s edge, talking and smoking cigarettes.

“Hi,” I said and walked up to them.

They froze and went silent, the only animation the trail of smoke from the tips of the cigarettes now dangling from inattentive fingers.

I stopped right in front of them, forming a tight triangle. “Have you seen Liz Betterton?”