CHAPTER NINE
Katy
I couldn’t wait for the waiting period to be over, I was dying for my men. But what do you know, Jock McMahan called and asked me out right when we got back.
“Hey yo, you wanna see a movie?” he grunted into the phone.
My first instinct was to say no. This guy grossed me out and I didn’t care if he was a stud at school. I had my lovers and that was that. But a feeling of caution overtook me. After all, my set-up with Jason and Brent wasn’t exactly “normal.” I was a teen girl exploring a ménage with two men, what would happen if word got out? We’d be the talk of the town, people would surely think I was trash. So to preserve the illusion of normalcy a little longer, I agreed.
“Sure,” I said reluctantly. What the fuck was wrong with me? I had to sound excited, like a cooing, fawning girl. So I forced myself to man up. “Which movie did you want to see Jock?” I chirped then, trying to sound eager and willing.
And the dumb lunkhead was so clueless, so down on his ability to read other human beings that he grunted.
“How about Insidious 2?” he said. “I saw Insidious 1, it was fuckin’ amazing.”
I almost backed out then, unable to stomach the thought of Jock’s company and a horror movie combined together. Because I hate horror flicks, I hate worms crawling out of eyeballs, ghosts that come back from the dead, that stuff bores me. So my mind spun furiously, trying to think of something else.
“Mmm, how about Star Wars? The new one, have you seen that one?” I asked. I honestly couldn’t think of anything, and besides, hadn’t it gotten great reviews?
But Jock snorted.
“Naw, I’m not into intergalactic shit. Insidious 2 it is,” he said with finality, overruling my suggestion. I gritted my teeth. This was gonna be bad, I’d have to force myself to stay in my seat, it promised to be three hours of torture. But at least there’d be movie popcorn with heaps of butter, I could feast on that and make myself feel better.
And when I showed up at the theater the next night, Jock looked terrible, his face slightly red, broken capillaries in his nose and cheeks. What the fuck?
“Hey,” he grunted. “Let’s get tickets.”
And the answer was immediately clear because his breath reeked of booze. Holy shit, this sucked. I was going to suffer through three hours of some shitty movie with a steaming human pile next to me, a dude who stunk to high heaven through every pore. This was going to be bad, and I braced myself for the worst, really expecting things to go downhill before ending in a ball of fire.
And as I expected, it didn’t get better. When we stepped into the darkened theater, I looked around quickly, hoping there were some fellow movie patrons. I’m not sure what I was thinking, that these folks could save me from a bad experience like strangers standing in the way of harm. But the place was empty except for one old dude sitting in the far right corner near the door, bent over and elderly. I huffed, exasperated. This movie was so bad that no one was coming to see it, it was probably a huge box office bomb and I’d been forced here because of myself. Shit, I only had myself to blame, and mentally cursed again.
And Jock didn’t make the waiting easier. He was so dumb that steam started to pour from my ears dealing with him.
“You’re so pretty,” he grunted, shifting around in his seat and stuffing popcorn in his mouth.
“Thanks,” I managed while leaning away. Because the alcohol smell was killing me, Jock must have downed a forty before the movie, it was like sitting next to a rag soaked in Jim Bean. I wouldn’t be surprised if he spontaneously combusted, there was so much alcohol.
“Yeah, real pretty,” he grunted again. “I like it,” he said, seizing one of my brown curls in his fingers. I shuddered at what was happening, but at least he was touching my hair and not my body. I couldn’t actually feel his hands on me, thank god.
“Uh, thanks,” I said, none-too-graciously. “Would you mind letting go of my hair? It kinda hurts,” I said shortly, my neck twisted way over so that I could maintain as much distance between us as possible.
“Oh sure,” he grunted. “No prob.” And he let go, my curls bouncing back like springs. Thank god he hadn’t touched my body, I’d scream if he so much as laid a finger on me.
But fucking Jock just wouldn’t leave me alone. Because once the movie started, he began pawing me like a crazed animal.
“Come on, Katy,” he panted, his big hand on my thigh, squeezing. “Come on, give it up, I know you want it.”
I was incensed. When had I ever indicated that I wanted it, that I was attracted to this douche? So I twisted away, my torso contorted in an effort to maintain distance, skin crawling. But Jock was insistent and his fingers dug into my thigh, cold and clammy, making me wince.
“Stop,” I hissed, almost doubled in two trying to get away. But a particularly loud scream rang out from the movie and my words were reduced to a muffled “mwmwmwwm.” What the fuck? Had Jock chosen a horror flick because the screams on-screen would drown out my own? Holy shit, he was one messed up motherfucker.
And the douche just wouldn’t give up.
“You want it,” he grunted. “I know you want it, I’ve seen you looking at me in class, you want it.”
I was angry now, really mad. Jock McMahon wasn’t my type at all with his bulging steroid build, the slick of oil on his forehead, the small patch of acne on his neck. If I’d been looking at him it was because I was turned towards the blackboard and Jock just happened to be in my way, his hulking frame like a huge dog that refused to budge.
“No, I don’t want it,” I hissed, still trying to squirm away. There could be no mistaking my anger now, I’d said the word “No” quite loud and had literally slapped his hands with my small ones, making sure he knew that I wasn’t into this.
But some people have never been told “no” in their lives, and Jock was one of those idiots. He let out a harsh laugh before grabbing me around the waist and dragging me into his lap, planting his face between my boobs, lapping at the creamy flesh.
“Oohhh fuck yeah,” he ground out, “I love a girl with huge tits and baby, yours are the best. Mmmph! Yeah!”
I screamed then, literally let out a full-on shriek, but it was just my bad luck that someone was screaming on-screen at the same time. So no one heard, not our fellow guest, not the theater workers, my cry of fury and hurt drowned out by movie sound effects.
But I grew up in a trailer park and know how to defend myself, I come with a set of street smarts like none other, and no fucking way was this douche going to take me against my will. So gripping my keys in my hand, with multiple pointy parts sticking out between my knuckles, I punched the fucker in the nuts, making him shriek and clutch himself in agony.
“Aieee!” he howled. “Oh my gawd, oh my gawd, I’ve been punched in the dick!”
But it was Jock’s turn to be drowned out by the racket on-screen and I took the opportunity to punch him once more below the belt, hissing, “Fuck you mofo!” before grabbing my stuff and racing from the darkened theater. Hell yeah, he got what he deserved, that lunkhead had been mauling me like I was a piece of meat, and that was no way to treat your date.
But once I was in the theater parking lot, reality took over. Because oh shit, Jock had driven me here so I didn’t have a car, and I could hear pounding footsteps behind me, Jock’s agonized roars of rage and terror growing louder. Furiously, I scrabbled for my phone, my only thought to text Brent and Jake. I needed them to come, to save me, but it’d be ten minutes before they could get here.
So I whirled around, eyes panicked, but it was too late because Jock was on me. The dumb moron was like a lumbering monster, Godzilla with small arms, intent on causing pain.
“Fuck you!” he roared, grabbing my hair.
My scalp screamed in agony as I shrieked, doubled over at the waist, trying to get away, but my curls were clutched tight between those meaty fists.
“Get away!” I screamed. “Get away from me!” I yelled again, twisting and wriggling, trying to yank myself out of his grasp even while trying to land a kick on him somewhere, somehow, without getting too close.
But Jock had two big handfuls of my locks tight in his grip, and I was caught, my head stuck in a painful position with nowhere to go, and worse, no one to see in the deserted parking lot.
“You’re gonna pay for punching me in the balls,” he hissed. “You fucking bitch! You punched my dick, you’re a fuckin’ goner.”
And he let go with one hand, raising it and balling it into a fist, ready to deliver a death blow on my head, crush my skull with one massive pound.
But suddenly I was yanked to safety and it was Jock who was a squealing, a screaming mess on the floor, curled up like a baby, tears streaming down his cheeks.
“Please!” he shrieked. “Please nooooo!”
I panted, stunned at the turn of events. What the hell had happened? One moment, I was about to be beat to death in the parking lot, flattened into a pancake as a result of Jock’s rage, nothing but broken bones on the floor. But instead, now I was encircled safely in Jason’s strong arms as Brent towered above the teen boy, his massive form looming over the writhing form.
“Shut the fuck up,” Brent ground out. “Who the fuck do you think you are?”
Jock kept crying, his wails pitiful.
“I’m –I’m Jock!” he whimpered, “Please no!”
Brent looked at him, disgusted.
“You’re such a fucking slob, I don’t give a fuck who you are,” he ground out, landing another kick to Jock’s stomach. “What the fuck were you thinking, treating a woman like that?” he grunted with another kick. Jock was a mess on the floor, snot running down his nose, curled into a ball wailing like a dead hyena.
And Jason didn’t want to miss out on the action. His big arms tightened around me as he whispered in my ear, “You okay baby?”
I nodded numbly, and that was all he needed. Jason immediately launched himself into the fray, taking out his anger on the fucking high school boy.
“You FUCK!” was all he roared before kicking Jock in the stomach, his boot digging into the football player’s small intestine. “Motherfucker!” he screamed before aiming another deadly kick, this time at Jock’s neck.
I had to intervene then because if this went on, my date was going to die here, a bloody, pulpy mess on the barren concrete floor.
“Stop stop!” I cried, running to them, trying to wave them off. “Stop, look I’m fine, I’m fine, just a couple scratches that’s all.”
Both men turned to look at me, their blue eyes almost feral in the low lights of the parking lot.
“A couple scratches?” Brent raged. “That’s enough reason to kill this fucker.”
“Fuck YEAH,” was all Jason managed before grinding his heel down on Jock’s hand.
“No stop!” I shrieked, really serious this time. “Come on, I’m fine!” I panted, pulling at one big man’s arm, then the other. “Come on, let’s go!”
And my soft touch on their bodies brought them back to their senses, unlocking them from the all-consuming rage that burned through their massive bodies.
Brent shook his head, as if snapping out of dream.
“Let’s go,” he grunted to Jason. “This loser’s had enough.”
Jason looked like he wanted to land another good one on Jock’s face, shoulder, wherever, but he stepped back as well, breathing hard. But he wasn’t above a parting shot.
“You ever touch Katy again,” he rasped, his voice a hissing steam pipe, “and you’ll see just how nasty we can be motherfucker.” And with that, he delivered a final blow to Jock’s stomach, leaving the football player groaning, clutching his midsection, crying like a baby in the parking lot.
Holy shit, this had gotten out of control. You can go to jail for what Jason and Brent did, and right now, it was important to get out of here before the police came. Hopefully the lunkhead wouldn’t be stupid enough to tell them who had done it, he’d keep his trap shut like a good little girl. So I ran to the car, my lovers trailing me, and clambered in, panting, breathless.
“You okay?” ground out Brent, staring at me through the darkness, his hand still on the ignition, making sure I was alright.
Jason was just as concerned.
“Because I’ll kill that fucker if he touched you,” he ground out, eyes seizing mine under the fluorescent lighting of a nearby billboard.
And I took a deep breath then, still shaking, still rattled, but my mind had cleared, and I was suddenly sure.
“Take me home,” I said. “Brent, Jason, take me home because I want to be with you now.”
And it was true. There was no more need for waiting periods, I no longer had any doubts about what my life could be or should be. There was only what is. And it was time to serve my men, show them how much I cared, how much I adored my lovers both. So I looked at them again, hiding nothing, my eyes wide pools of truth.
“Take me home and let me love you,” I murmured this time, a hand on each of their thighs. Because my future was unfolding with Jason and Brent on each side … and it was time to get down to business.