Chapter 9
Spud went to school Monday because he wanted to see Donna. Hazel Rankin picked him up and gave him a ride.
He wanted to see Hazel, too. "Hazel," he started out, "do you think Coach has blown a fuse?"
"What do you mean, Spud?" she retorted. "Why do you ask that?"
Spud told her about Coach and Donna in the book room. Then, blushing, he related how Coach had gone down on him in the shower room.
Hazel laughed. "I'd like to have seen that! Coach has ants in his pants. He's a pretty hot-type guy, and it's hard on him with his wife having a baby."
"But, damn it, he banged Donna!" Spud swore. "And then he gobbled me! What in hell does Coach like?"
"Anything he can get, I'd judge," Hazel said seriously, laying her hand on Spud's crotch.
He brushed it away. He was unable to feel any passion, thinking about Coach.
Hazel pouted. "You act like an old man, Spud. I didn't know you young goats ever lost your hots." She gave up trying to arouse him.
Spud sulked.
Pretty soon, Hazel praised, "Gosh, you've got good muscles! I bet all the girls at school are wild about you!"
"Not all of them," Spud corrected, remembering Frani Cravens. But Hazel's compliment did make him feel good.
"I wouldn't worry about Coach, if I were you," Hazel said. "Some men like their fun any way they can get it. Some women, too."
They'd reached the school when Hazel started to say something about Coach and Jake Sears. But Frani was sitting on the front steps, and Spud's heart gave a leap. She looked as if she were waiting for him.
"Goodbye, Hazel," he said quickly. "Thanks for the ride."
He got quickly out of the car. When he looked, Frani's face had darkened. She'd seen him with Hazel Rankin, and now she was retreating into the building.
Spud hurried after her. Pushing through the door, he yelled, "Hey, Frani, wait up for me!"
Though everyone else had heard and were staring and gawking, Frani pretended she hadn't heard him. From the brief glimpse Spud got of her stiff back as she hurried down the hall, he knew she was still plenty angry at him.
He was clogging after Frani when Donna Overstreet blocked his way. She still wore her yellow sweater, but it was soiled. She looked pooped, like she hadn't slept during the whole week-end.
"Spud," she said, "there'll be another 'F' Club meeting at my house next Friday night. Mom's gone -" Donna's old club sounded silly to Spud, like something for kids. He brushed her aside and said, "Sorry, I won't be able to make it."
"Chicken!" she teased.
He teased right back, parroting old Miss Parks, who was against social organizations, if you call Donna's 'F' Club that. "Your old club's undemocratic!" Donna scowled.
He hurried on down the hall, but he didn't catch up with Frani.
It wasn't until history class that he got to see her. He took a seat across from her, though he should have known Miss Parks would make trouble for him.
Sure enough, the instant he leaned over and tried to whisper to Frani, old Miss Parks was on his tail.
"Gilbert Jamison!" she scolded, "you were talking after the bell rang!"
Hell, he knew it! She sounded so prim as she glared through her funny glasses "I have to tell Frani something," he argued.
"That will do, Gilbert! The class will please come to order."
Spud slumped in his seat. Frani had refused to listen to him, anyway.
Still looking ridiculously prim, Miss Parks stood before the class and stared over the pupils' heads, to the back of the room. Spud followed h r gaze and saw that her eyes were on Donna Overstreet.
"I hate to mention this," Miss Parks said, sort of hesitating, "but do your mothers approve of the way some of you girls dress for school?"
She meant she didn't approve of Donna's tight sweater. But why shouldn't Donna wear what she wanted to? Miss Parks always dressed in dull, colorless clothes that were loose-fitting and ugly.
"If you mean me, Miss Parks," came Donna's voice, full of resentment, "my mother approves."
A ripple of giggles passed over the room. Everyone turned to stare at Donna.
Miss Parks rapped on her desk.
"Don't you think a plain cotton dress would be more appropriate for school?" she asked. "And you should lengthen your skirt. Sweaters and short skirts are for brazen, showy people who wish to call attention to themselves."
Her righteous tone and snoopy manner made a hard anger churn in Spud. He had to let it out.
"Other teachers don't poke their beaks in our private affairs!" he complained furiously. "It's none of your damned business what we wear!"
The room went very quiet.
Miss Parks' face went white with fury. She tried to speak, but only sputtered.
Spud wasn't finished with her yet. He stood up and hurled at her, "Why are you such an old meddle-bag, anyway?"
Miss Parks' lips twisted, and her mouth worked, but she couldn't form words. She was about to have a spasm. She could only point for Spud to leave the room.
"Gladly!" he growled.
As he reached the door, he bumped into someone from the office. The girl announced that there would be an assembly in a few minutes. From the looks on the kids' faces, Spud knew what the assembly would be about. He decided he'd move along with the rest of the student body. Shit on going to the office!
Up on the platform before the assembled pupils sat old Rankin, Editor Millhouse, and three local ministers. Their faces were glum, and Spud knew each was primed to make a speech.
The pupils were silent at first, sitting quietly in anticipation of something. They finally got restless, and low whispers echoed over the auditorium as Spud's gaze searched out Donna Overstreet.
She was sitting defiantly only a few seats to the left of him, a buxom blonde in a tight sweater and miniskirt that showed off almost all of her well-formed ass. She pushed at the loose strands of hair at the back of her neck, then looked up. Spud knew she was glaring at old Rankin and his guests.
"They're threatening me with reform school!" she said aloud. "But you all just wait until I tell what I know on some of these pious bastards!"
Spud figured Donna would put up a good fight.
Some townspeople, their faces glum, started filing in and taking seats. The auditorium was fast filling to its limits.
Finally, old Rankin stood up and rapped on the podium. Once more, the large room got quiet.
"We are gathered here because of a serious incident which happened last Friday night," he started out.
All eyes went to Donna.
Spud knew old Rankin was plenty nervous. His voice was shaky, and his hands trembled as he adjusted the mike.
"We have delinquency in our midst," he continued, as if that fact would bring on the end of the world. Then he started straddling the fence. "There are two types of delinquents," he analyzed, his voice less forceful. "One is a hostile, aggressive, glowering psychopath - a type bred by hate, lust and brutality. I - I don't think ours is of that type."
He paused, as if he'd memorized all that from a book and had forgotten what followed. The audience remained quiet. He tried to smile before he continued, but it was a weak attempt.
"The other is Peck's Bad Boy - or girl - as the case may be, and ours probably is - a wild, selfish youngster who gratifies every whim whenever he or she feels like it. Not really bad - but unthinking - a healthy individual with too much energy for his own good."
Old Rankin paused again, as if he expected loud applause for his memory work.
He didn't get it.
Miss Parks stood up and stiffened. Spud was sure she hadn't stood up to praise old Rankin. She hadn't.
"Both pictures you paint, sir, seem a bit out of focus to me," she said sternly, glaring directly at old Rankin. "Try as I will, I cannot recall a single robust pupil in serious difficulty simply because he or she overflowed with life forces, as you indicate."
Old Rankin's mouth flew open.
Editor Millhouse and the ministers gasped.
"They're empty young people, living empty lives," Miss Parks went on with conviction, her gaze going down to Donna Overstreet.
Her short speech brought on a hot debate. The Chief of Police, in the audience, sided with old Rankin. Millhouse, of course, was firmly with Miss Parks. The ministers couldn't make up their minds.
Some citizen in the audience stood up.
"Do you think, with some kind of magic, you can straighten these kids out?" he asked bluntly, directing his question to Miss Parks.
Old Rankin tried to answer. He only sputtered and groped for words.
Once more, Miss Parks got to her feet. "If we could only find the money -" she started out.
A groan went over the audience.
She looked over the gathering of mothers and fathers. "Do you parents realize how much danger your children are in?" she asked. "Don't you believe their welfare and happiness is worth a few dollars?"
She went on to paint a general picture of Valley High, a school that was overcrowded and tense. "And yet the average pupil is reasonably well-behaved. A small minority is creating the havoc, but one bad apple can spoil the whole barrel," she ended.
The Chief of Police got up, and in his short speech, he mentioned Donna Overstreet, using her as a sort of example. Rankin, finding himself in deeper water than he could swim in, called on the guidance counselor to help him out. She was a gray-haired woman with a hatchet face and a blue rinse. "Donna's I.Q. is 112," she announced. "When she was in grade school, she was in a special reading class, but something slipped somewhere."
"I'll say it did!" Editor Millhouse exploded. Turning to old Rankin, he added, "Don't get me wrong. My heart bleeds for teachers, and if I were a high school teacher today, I'd blow my brains out! But, right now, I want to know if something can be done - and what!"
Helplessly, the guidance counselor suggested, "We could try more remedial reading -"
"Shit!" Spud said.
Behind him, somebody whispered, "What's remedial reading got to do with fucking around?"
Spud grinned to himself. Every kid in school could read four-letter words! Disgust took over, and he thought the whole lot of them a silly bunch of pretenders. Everybody knew why they'd been called to the auditorium, and yet not a person there had guts enough to define and face the major problem. They all blushed and beat around the bush.
The meeting lasted two hours, and in all that time, only twice did anybody even hint of Donna's club party.
"They'd better not push me!" Donna threatened aloud. "Let somebody say too much, and I'll name every guy in town I've gone to bed with!"
The kids began leaving the auditorium. Disgusted, Spud too pushed his way out.
Donna was out there, fit to be tied. Spud looked at her, and something about the whole thing struck him as funny. He laughed aloud.
Donna reddened with anger.
"What's so damned funny?" she snapped, glaring at him.
"You are!" Spud said. "I've never seen anyone as mad as you are."
"Wouldn't you be?"
"I guess so."
"I just don't like people butting into my business and making fun of me!"
Donna's closeness and her anger were doing strange things to Spud. His shorts began to feel too tight, and his damp clothes stuck to his flesh.
"Can I walk you home, Donna?" he asked.
"Sure, Spud. I feel kind of upset and lonesome - and mom's not home."
Spud didn't know if that was meant for a confession or an invitation. "Don't expect me to be your mama," he said, as he took her arm and they started down the street.
"I'm going to forget this whole mess," Donna said. "And I'm going to continue to have a good time!"
"Great!"
But suddenly, Spud wasn't feeling so great. His thoughts had slipped briefly to Frani, and to the sour faces of his pop and mom.
Forget it, he warned himself! He had Donna, and Donna could turn the whole world into a bed of roses for a guy.
"C'mon in the house," she invited.
Spud followed her in - straight to her bedroom.
It wasn't a very big room and was decorated haphazardly with drapes and dolls and cushions everywhere.
"Don't look at anything," Donna warned. "I haven't cleaned house since mom left."
Spud sat on the edge of her bed and lit a cigarette. He looked at Donna and asked, "What did we come here for?"
Donna chuckled. "Dummy - to fuck! What else?"
"A little fuckin' never hurt anybody, I guess," Spud said, hurrying to get out of his clothes.
"Jeez, you've got a good pecker," Donna praised.
Spud shrugged. He went over and started helping her get out of her clothes. "A big cock is a gal's best friend," he said.
He helped Donna onto the bed, positioned her, placing her legs wide apart. He got into her so quickly that his plunging cock took away her breath.
"God, you're fuckin' big!" she giggled. "So fuckin' big!"
Spud started fucking her heatedly. She clung to him and wrapped her legs around his middle.
"Put your legs down," he said sharply. "Now, hang on, baby!"
She lowered both legs, and Spud huffed and panted as he went deep, deep. The friction he'd built up was going to explode any time. Donna moaned and writhed, bucking and jerking. His plunging cock shook her wildly. He felt his load spitting into her as the world spun in a mad ferment for long minutes. He heard Donna groan.
"Man, you give a wicked fuck," she giggled.
"You do something to me," Spud panted, feeling his cock soften within her "You just did it to me!" Donna laughed.
"Yeah, and I'll do it again pretty soon!"
He rested a few minutes.
"Okay?" he asked, his voice dry as dust. "Ready for another jabbing?"
"Okay," she said.
He jabbed her quickly, going deep. She shuddered and moaned, "Ooooh!" She jerked and gritted her teeth, then eased off and began moaning.
Spud fucked her hard for a few minutes. "Get off," she said in a guttural voice.
"I ain't finished."
"I'll finish you," Donna said.
"Fuck it!" Spud growled. "I want to get it off in your snatch!"
He plunged his long sausage deeper, up and down, up and down.
And then he squirted. His orgasm warped and twisted his body. Donna's cunt kept licking and squeezing with moist lips, making the sensations linger.
At last, he was drained.
"You were delicious, Spud -" "You were good, too," Spud giggled. "Je-zus, you know how to fuck!"
Donna kept panting, "I love it, Spud - I love you! You're the best cock in the world!"
Spud fucked her three times that afternoon. He pushed her back against the mattress and commanded, "Lie there. I'll take care of you!"
She didn't argue.
He kissed her tits, the lobes of her ears, her belly. It wasn't long until his cock hardened again. Then he was doing things to her, crazy things, impossible things. Fantastic things!
And, the things she was doing to him!
The bedsprings creaked under them. Spud's world zoomed and spun dizzily. And then - He shot off for the third time in Donna.
And then he rolled off, panting, exhausted.
Donna asked, "You liked me, Spud?"
"It was insane!"
"Spud?"
"Yes?"
"Then was it worth five dollars - for a feeling like that?"
"The feeling was priceless!"
Spud's first thought was that the five bucks would be little to pay for what he'd received. But then - there was a name for girls who did it for money.
He didn't know what to say. Half-teasing, he told Donna, "I'm broke this time."
"Then double the next time, okay?"
"Donna, I'm not made of money -" Donna growled, "I'm headed for big time, and it takes cash to get there!"
"I don't blame you for getting out of town."
"Yeah, a girl can wait too long."
Spud left Donna's house with his heart in the soles of his shoes and one scorching thought in his mind. Donna had been good fucking - as good as Hazel Rankin.
But one goddamned thing was for sure - Hazel sold her pussy a lot cheaper!
When Spud reached home, his pop was in the living room, hidden behind the evening newspaper. Spud trembled as he passed him on the way to the stairs.
He was halfway up the stairs when his old man called, "Come back here, Gilbert! I want to talk to you!"
Spud had no choice.
He crept back meekly and stood before his pop.
"Where did you go last Friday night?" his old man demanded.
A sudden cold fear paralyzed Spud. He was sure now his pop had heard of Donna's meeting, and the assembly at school. Perhaps it had all been in the evening newspaper.
"You know I played football Friday night," he reminded his pop wearily.
"I'm fully aware of that - and of the spectacle you made of yourself! But, if I remember correctly, you came home, then left again. I demand to know where you went!"
Spud matched his old man's sarcasm. "I breezed off for a little fresh air. I found it stuffy here. Anything wrong with that?"
He turned and started up the stairs.
"Young man, I'm not finished with you yet!"
Spud's pop made him come back and stand at stiff attention. Shaking a finger in Spud's face, he demanded, "Did you go over to the Rankin house Friday night?"
"You know I don't like old Ranki;:!"
"Don't evade my question! You think his blonde, hussy wife is pretty cute! She spells trouble. Rankin suspects her of entertaining men! You stay away, do you hear?"
"Yeah, I hear," Spud said.
As he was putting on his pajamas that night, Spud told himself that his old man could go to hell. He'd see Hazel whenever he wanted to! He got into bed, and lying there, he looked up at the dark ceiling, Hazel in his thoughts. Hazel was hot pussy - and for free. She was like a habit-forming drug.' Spud was depending on Hazel to restore his feeling of manhood, a feeling Coach had almost robbed him of. But, hell, a guy couldn't feel very sexy with all the bickering and turmoil that went on around his house! Oh, shit, he'd had enough sex to last him for a few days, he guessed!
He suddenly felt cold.
His last thought, before he fell asleep, was that he wished he had Hazel beside him to warm him up!