CHAPTER ONE
Janie
“Yo man!” Jason Bellows hollers down the hall while holding one arm out straight with his index finger extended. “You da man!”
I turn my head to look but I already know who’s coming. It was Trent Lewis, the king of Sunnyside High. Not only is he the starting quarterback on our football team, but he’s also been crowned Prom King three times. That’s right, he won the first time when he was a sophomore, beating out a dozen older boys who were plenty pissed when the results were announced.
But then again, it’s easy to understand why people voted for him. In fact, I voted for Trent myself, despite the fact that he’s never noticed me. Because the man is absolutely, jaw-droppingly gorgeous. He’s got coal-black hair and blazing blue eyes that make you feel seen in an intimate way. But that’s my imagination because of course, Trent Lewis has never really looked at me. I’m just the invisible girl, but still, my heart trembles whenever he’s near.
And right now, Trent and his friends were sauntering down the hall like they owned the place, joshing and talking while tossing a football casually to one another.
“Yo,” rumbles Trent, grinning at his friend Simon. “What’s goin’ on man?”
Simon, a sandy-blonde with narrow shoulders and a face full of freckles, jaws back.
“Nuthin’!” he chortles. “Just this effing biology. I swear I’m gonna get kicked off the team if I don’t get at least a C.”
Trent frowns.
“Really dude? You can’t land a C in this class? It’s not that hard. Just a bunch of frogs and some pictures of the human digestive system.”
But Simon is a whiny fool.
“I know, that’s what makes it hard!” he complains. “It’s so frickin’ gross to look at intestines and shit. I can’t do it,” the teen boy says petulantly.
With a shrug, Trent strides over to the classroom door before pulling it open, his massive shoulders blocking out the lights from the interior.
“You’ll figure it out,” he says, throwing a cocky grin over his shoulder. “Don’t worry about it. We’ll find a way.” And with that the door closes behind the cool clique, leaving me in the relative quietness of the hallway.
I sigh, turning to my locker. When Trent walked by, I’d compressed myself against the cold metal, almost burrowing into the open space in an effort to seem small. But it’s impossible because I’m a curvy girl. I’ve got hips that go wide and big Double Ds that swing whenever I walk, so it’s pretty much hopeless.
After all, I’m nerdy Janie Martin with the curly brown hair and big body, and I wear brown, gray and black exclusively so as to disappear into the crowd. Bright colors aren’t my thing and the sheer thought of wearing red makes me tremble with fear. I’d probably stand out like a giant apple in the crowd, which is exactly what I don’t want.
Sighing, I shut my locker, cringing when it bangs a little, before slowly following the boys into Biology. Simon was right. The frog dissection isn’t fun, and the fumes are terrible. They still use formaldehyde to preserve the carcasses and I’m assaulted by the smell of decaying flesh as well as chemical preservatives. But there’s no sense in avoiding it because my goal is to be a vet someday, and frog dissection was only the first step to working with animals.
Trent, of course, was holding court once again. The handsome man was leaned back in his chair, a cocky grin on his face as he surveyed the scene. But this time, instead of being surrounded by a group of his football buddies, a couple girls had joined them as well. The women fawned and simpered, making eyes at Trent like Bambi batting his lashes.
“Eeee, the pass that you completed at last Friday’s game was wonderful,” squealed Mandy, a bottle blonde with her hair in a high ponytail. “Oh my god!”
Mandy’s so silly that it’s hard to hate her. She’s our class ditz and couldn’t be mean if she tried, especially since the woman’s got a body like Dolly Parton. I’ve seriously wondered if she’s had breast augmentation although she’s only seventeen. Don’t plastic surgeons reject patients until they’ve hit at least the age of consent?
But again, Mandy’s harmless. There’s nothing between her ears and her comments were non-sequiturs most of the time. By contrast, the girl sitting next to her was a viper. Pamela Knight is Sunnyside High’s Queen Bee, and has been since we were in seventh grade. Compared to Mandy’s bottle-blonde hair, Pamela’s was all real. Silky, platinum strands fell in soft waves over one shoulder, glossy and long. I felt like completely inadequate by comparison, with my wild brown curls already springing out in messy pieces from my ponytail.
“Oh Mandy,” said Pamela airily. “Please. Trent did better than a good job,” she said purring while throwing an appreciative glance at the handsome male. “He did an amazing job.”
Of course, the girl group tittered as the guys soaked up the attention.
“Thanks,” said Trent, flashing a grin that indicated he knew just how hot he was. “Appreciate it.”
But the conversation was cut off because Mr. Muller stumbled in the room then, his lesson plan under one arm and a vague look in those watery blue eyes.
“Hello class,” he greeted. “Are we ready for our frogs today?”
A groan rose up in a chorus but I brightened a bit and straightened in my seat. Again, I want to be a vet and working with animals, albeit dead ones, is only the first step on this career path.
“Let’s pair up,” said Mr. Muller, peering at the class over his spectacles. “Everyone find a partner and then take a place at one of the stations.”
You’d think that a bunch of high school kids could successfully follow directions. But instead, mass chaos descended as people zigged left and zagged right, trying to snag the ideal partner. In fact, some girls were visibly giving each other light shoves as they angled to be Trent’s lab partner.
“Ouch!” squealed Katie, a petite brunette who’d been voted best dressed last year. Today, she was wearing a pink jacket with a matching pink skirt, which was cute if a little bit over the top like Cher from Clueless. “Why’d you kick me?” she asked Pamela accusingly while gripping her shin. “That hurt!”
But Pamela didn’t even blink. She merely sidled up to Trent while taking his arm possessively.
“We’ll be perfect together,” she murmured. “Me and you and Mr. Frog.”
I stood off to the side, watching the females compete. It was almost like watching a sorority rush event where well-dressed girls slyly thrust knives into each other’s ribs, and to my horror, the pushing got out of hand. One girl’s shoulder landed heavily against the fish tank, water sloshing about as the glass box teetered precariously on the counter edge. My breath caught. Oh my god, was the tank going to fall, shattering and leaving our pets gasping for air as they flipped and flopped helplessly?
I darted over as fast as possible, pushing the tank back over the edge and onto the safety of the counter just in time. Whew! That was close. But Mr. Muller had seen the entire thing, and he clapped his hands loudly.
“Class, class, what is this?” he asked with a befuddled expression. “All I asked was for you to pair up, and this happens? We almost sacrifice Goldie and her sister to the scourge of land-life? What’s going on?”
Everyone falls quiet, their eyes going guiltily over to the tank where I stand. I smile weakly, once again wishing I could disappear into the background. But Mr. Muller’s had enough, and he glares at us over his spectacles once more.
“Clearly, you gentlemen and ladies aren’t capable of acting like adults yet. So I’m going to have to pair you up into teams, just like when we were in kindergarten. You, and you,” he says, pointing to Simon and Katie. “You’re partners. As are you and you,” he says, pointing at Pamela and a boy named Chester. “You’ll be partners for this assignment.”
Pamela looks horrified because Chester is about five foot two and a lech of the worst sort. True to form, he leers at Pamela and then licks his lips before wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. Gross. I wouldn’t want to be partners with Chester the Molester either. Thank god it wasn’t me.
But then things take a left turn because Mr. Muller points to Trent. “You,” he says, “and you,” he repeats, pointing at me. “The two of you are partners.”
I dart a look at the handsome man in surprise, Mr. Muller’s voice drowned out by the thunder of my heartbeat in my ears. Because now I’m partners with the high school star? This frog dissection project is slated to last a week, and we’ll be working in close quarters for the entire duration. Does Trent even know who I am? My cheeks flush even as my body trembles, unsure of what to do next.
But the cocky man takes things into his own hands. He stuffs his hands into his pocket, slowly sauntering my way before letting out a drawl.
“So seems we’ll be doing this together,” he speaks, eyes surveying my curvy form. They go up and then down, and then back up again before finally hitting my face. “Sweet.”
I blush even as heat overcomes my form. Because did that really just happen? Did the guy that every girl wants check me out, none too discreetly?
“Um,” I stutter. “Yes, hi. I’m Janie. Nice to meet you.”
He sticks out his hand.
“Trent,” is his casual drawl. “Nice to meet you.”
I take that square palm in my small one, feeling the strong fingers envelop mine. Oh god, his grip is so sure and firm, and again, a thrill shoots down my spine as I gasp a little. Hopefully, my palms weren’t damp, but you never know. Timidly, I look up at him through my lashes.
“Do you want to take workstation ten?” I ask, nodding towards the wet lab in the back corner of the room. “I like that one because it’s by the window.”
Those blue eyes flash.
“Sure thing,” he rumbles, blue eyes gleaming with appreciation. “Just in case we need to air out this place from the smells of decaying flesh and formaldehyde.”
I wince at his words.
“You’re not holding back are you?” is my dry question.
He grins cockily.
“Nope, not at all. Come on, pretty girl. Let’s get started.”
And with that, Trent strides off to the corner of the room, practically whistling as those broad shoulders make their way down the aisle. I see a couple women following him with their eyes as they glance enviously at my way. But I’m stunned and almost unable to process what’s happening because did Trent just refer to me as a “pretty girl”? Can’t be. I’m not pretty at all. I’m “okay” on a good day, and “absolutely terrible” on a bad. If there’s no food stuck in my teeth, then we’re already doing well when it comes to my appearance. So what did Trent mean when he called me “pretty girl”?
The voice in my head speaks then. Don’t dwell on it, it scolds. This guy has females eating out of his hand left and right. He knows exactly how to charm them and has probably been practicing since he was five.
That’s true. Trent Lewis was probably a looker even as a toddler. So I gulp heavily even as the voice speaks again like a worm in my ear.
Besides, it hisses. He probably wants a good grade in this class so that he can meet the minimum GPA to stay on the football team. And you are probably his best hope.
Oh. My heart plummets at that thought because it’s true. I’m a straight A student and have been ever since I won the spelling bee in fifth grade. Everyone knows me as Janie Martin, class nerd.
So I take a deep breath and square my shoulders before walking over to workstation ten. Trent’s already there, one hip casually resting against the counter with his strong arms folded over that big chest.
“You ready?” he smirks, blue eyes glinting. “Wanna get started?”
I take a deep breath, trying to center myself because I hate the fact that I might just be a good grade to Trent, even if Mr. Muller paired us up randomly. I have to let him know that not everything in the world is free, and that we’ll be sharing the work evenly.
“I just want you to know,” are my prim words. “That I’m allergic to formaldehyde, so I’ll need you to participate fully.”
Of course, this is a lie. I’m not allergic to anything at all. Not gluten, not peanuts, not anything. But sometimes it’s just easier to go with a white lie. It smooths the path in a way the truth never can.
Unfortunately, the handsome man doesn’t even blink. Instead he just grins at me again.
“Really?” he asks, one black brow cocked. “But during the mouse dissection a couple months ago, I could swear you were just fine. In fact, didn’t you get the highest grade in the class?”
My insides grow hot and I have a hard time meeting those twinkling blue eyes.
“Um yes,” is my stammer. “But back then, Rosie was here and she did a lot of the work. I just drew the pictures and labeled the diagrams.”
Rosie is my best friend who moved away mid-semester, leaving me alone in the hell that’s Sunnyside High. She was just like me: a nerd through and through with no cure possible. And we’d been friends for so long that it was a shock when her parents pulled her out to attend the gifted and talented school in a nearby city.
“What am I going to do?” I’d asked tearfully.
My friend had thrown her arms around me, hugging my shoulders tight.
“You’ll be fine,” she whispered in my ear fiercely. “I’m still with you,” she said, thumping herself across the heart, “so you can’t let these stupid kids get to you.”
But now, Rosie had left me all alone, and here I was in lab partnered with a man who made me feel so conflicted. We hadn’t even started working together yet, and I was already setting boundaries as my mind raced on at a million miles an hour. On the one hand, the idea of working with Trent thrilled me to my soul. Here in close quarters with him, I could feel my pulse beating erratically as my knees grew weak. The man was a six foot three hunk of pure muscle, every part of him honed by a lifetime of athleticism.
But on the other hand, I’ve been a target of bullies since I was six years old. It was always me with my back against the chainlink fence, watching in horror as my lunch was thrown on the ground and my backpack rifled through. So was this some kind of grown-up version of that? Was I going to be made a fool, this time by the hottest guy at school? It was a combination of lust and fear that made my heart churn. I wanted to make a good impression, but how was that possible when he was so cocky and assured, while I was just a bumbling mushroom?
But I smiled on the outside, pretending nothing was wrong.
“Okay great,” was my businesslike answer. “You’re in charge of the frog and I’ll do all the drawings. It’s a good division of responsibilities.”
Trent’s blue eyes gleamed, and I had the sinking sensation that this was no dull-witted blockhead. Sure, he was a star athlete, but this guy was in Honors Biology after all. He was intelligent for sure. But oh god, what if he outsmarted me?
Like Trent could read my mind, the man’s smirk grew more pronounced then.
“Babe,” he drawled. “The frogs are in the mini-fridge,” he said, pointing at the three by three cube on the ground. “I hurt my knee in practice yesterday, so I can’t bend down to get it. Can you do it instead?”
I glanced at his knee. True to his words, he was wearing some type of athletic tape on his leg, the skin-colored gauze highlighting the pure strength and power of those thighs. I stared at him but then nodded calmly.
“Sure, no problem,” were my words as I put down my clipboard. “I’ll get it, and then we’ll start the dissection.”
Bending over, I reached over to the mini-fridge. No big deal. The frogs had been delivered to our classroom just yesterday, and they were individually wrapped and stored in freezers at each workstation. Plus, the frogs have a plastic covering, so I could say that my formaldehyde allergy wasn’t triggered because of the protective saran.
But as I opened the door, already beginning to rummage around, I felt a light tap on my behind. What in the world? Was I lightheaded from skipping lunch? Maybe I’d imagined it.
But then that tap grew stronger, more like a push on my bottom. Any other person would have straightened immediately, whipping around to see what was going on. But the thing is that I’m a curvy girl and not exactly athletic. I’ve always been uncoordinated, and right now was no exception. So instead of bouncing to my feet with an outraged expression, instead I wobbled precariously on one foot while uttering a long-drawn out, “Oooooh!”
And then I collapsed right there on the floor, with my skirt up around my face, big meaty thighs and bottom on display. Oh god! This was so embarrassing! I couldn’t even move for a moment, trying to catch my breath. Thank god workstation ten was in the corner. At least no one could see.
I frantically tried to rearrange myself, but it was impossible. My breasts jiggled right and left as I scrambled, big bottom bumping and swaying as I lifted myself to my hands and knees. I half expected to hear a cackle of nasty laughter, but instead, only a low growl met my ears. Shocked, my head turned to glance at Trent over one shoulder and what I saw made me go completely still.
Because his blue eyes were eating me up. He was positioned right in back of me, with a full view of my ample bottom and thick thighs. I was doggie style on my hands and knees, face flushed and big boobies dangling to the ground, as if ready to be fucked.
And the quarterback wanted it. His blue eyes were aroused and hot, trailing over every inch of skin. And to my shock, he desperately wanted me as well. Because Trent wore nylon athletic shorts, and the ridge of his cock was completely visible. It was huge, hard and pulsing, running down one thigh like a giant snake. As I watched, it grew and grew until the tip of his cock just nudged the bottom lip of his shorts, peeking out from beyond the hem.
“Oh god,” I gasped, unable to move while still on my hands and knees, curves trembling as heat flared in my pussy. “Oh god.”
“Oh yeah,” Trent growled, unable to tear his eyes from my succulent form. “Shit you’re beautiful.”
And all of a sudden, I knew that I hadn’t been hallucinating in the past hour. This man had called me “pretty girl,” “babe,” and “sweet thing,” and he meant every word of it. He was absolutely turned on by my lusciousness and the white bottom that trembled even as he stared.
“Fuuuck,” was his low, aroused growl, one hand discreetly slipping down to stroke that hard ridge. “Aw shee-it.”
I crouched there unmoving for a moment. But then a new flood of awareness washed over my form, and I did something that I’d only ever seen in movies before. And not regular movies, but rather the free porn clips that I watched secretly on-line, with my head under the covers.
Lowering myself gently so that my shoulders were braced against the hard, concrete floor, I reached both hands back to stroke the soft expanse of my bottom. With clever fingers, I plucked my pink g-string out of my ass and strapped it over one great cheek, opening my pussy to his gaze. You’d think I’d stop there. After all, I was crouched on the floor of the biology classroom, hidden from fellow students only by the counters and sink, my big bottom swaying wide and open.
But it wasn’t enough. Trent’s gaze made me so hot and hungry that I did even more. As my pussy steamed with pure heat, I reached both my palms backwards and placed one on each cheek. Then with a sly smile over my shoulder, I pulled myself apart, opening my pussy to Trent’s gaze. Oh god, it must have looked good because immediately the man began dripping, his penis leaking onto the floor in small droplets of white.
“Do you like that, big guy?” came my hushed murmur as I gazed coquettishly at him over one shoulder, wiggling my bottom a little to bait him. “Is this what you’re looking for?”
Trent couldn’t reply for a moment, his big fingers stroking his shaft through the thin fabric of those nylon shorts. But his body spoke volumes because a small spurt of semen jetted from the tip of his dick, splattering against the hard concrete.
“Oooh big boy,” I cooed, eyeing the white puddle. “I’ll bet that tastes good.”
His cock jerked at my words as Trent’s blue eyes flared, an unconscious growl rising from his lips.
“Fuck,” was his low hiss, that possessive gaze eating me up. “Fuck you’re delicious.”
But we were interrupted then by the startling sound of a clap. Sure enough, Mr. Muller was standing at the front of the classroom again about to make an announcement.
“Now that you’ve found your workstations and partners, let’s begin,” he called out. “Trays are behind you, and remember, the frogs are already in your freezers. Just unwrap and you’ll be on your way!”
Any normal girl would have jumped to her feet, flushed and embarrassed, afraid of being discovered. But something had happened, turning me into a super slut. So as kids bustled at their station, leaning over to retrieve their frogs, I rotated on my hands and knees and lightly nuzzled Trent’s dick through the fabric of his shorts, even letting my tongue swipe against his glans a few times. Oh god, his semen tasted good, both sweet and salty against my lips.
“You like that?” I mewled again, looking up at those hungry azure eyes. “Because I can do more.”
Trent merely growled again, unable to form words. It seemed as if he was about to thrust his cock into my mouth, consequences be damned, but then the man jerked away, eyes blazing.
“Get up,” he rasped. “Mr. Muller’s coming.”
I sprang into motion, my cheeks flushed and hair in disarray. My movements were just in time because our teacher appeared then, peering over his glasses at us.
“Ms. Martin and Mr. Lewis,” he huffed. “Are you on track? Oh, of course you are,” he said, seeing the wrapped parcel in my hand. “I knew I could count on you, Janie,” he says. “You’re Miss Reliable.” And with a chortle, Mr. Muller turns away to check up on workstation nine, totally unaware of what just happened right under his nose.
Because oh god, it was so wrong. Trent physically pushed me, but instead of being outraged and angry, I went with it. I bent over and showed Trent my bottom, even opening my pussy to tempt him with the steaming folds. I nuzzled his cock, for crying out loud, lapping up the semen dripping from his tip! So what comes next? All I know is that something’s been unleashed … and I can’t wait to find out what happens.