Holly Hope: Slut girl

But the bum she picked up was apparently more used to rescue missions and flophouses, and Paul's words stuck in my mind. Mom was a loser! A born loser, and she drew other born losers as birds of a feather flock together. I determined then and there that I wouldn't be a loser all my life, and end up as Mom had done – picking up winos and bums just to get a man who would say "I love you" for a few drinks, meals, and pieces of ass. But who could I turn to, look up to, for advice, for help, for guidance? My dreams were shattered, my hero gone, my lover lost for all time. Boy, did I hit a new low in my emotional life!

The only redeeming feature from my experiences with Paul was a new-found awareness of myself, my body, and love. I was, and as torn apart by the resultant climax to my first torrid love affair, I could appreciate and enjoy and reminisce about the thrilling ecstasies that had been unfolded for my view, the new widened horizons that afforded a delightful vista of what life and love could be.

I immersed myself in my schoolwork, and my grades improved noticeably. Even with the morose thoughts that still filled my head when I remembered Paul's phony love and his final epithets, I could still feel the flashing warmth of his touches, his kisses and his caresses. I even awoke a few times at night from dreaming of the intensely hot penetration of his huge cock up, up, up inside me, filling me, almost teasing me, but satiating my sensuous heart and train with his enormous masculine invasion.

At times like that, all I could do was masturbate, and I became very adept at it, beginning with clitoral stimulation, then, as my excitement plateau was reached, the insertion, at first, of a finger or two, then later on the ramming and cramming in of everything from carrots and cucumbers that I'd stolen from the refrigerator to a three-cell flashlight that I damn near fell in love with, its fluted rim was so thrillingly satisfying. This served to sate my body's lust, but my emotional starvation and mental deprivation of love could not be stemmed by just physical completion. I became more and more withdrawn into myself, introverted is the word, I guess I'd cotton to them easily, and having made it with a man, it was hard to let a boy slobber and paw over me, so I struggled along, doing without.

Then came the Easter play. My grades had shot up so much that I had come to the attention of all my teachers, and my introversion was so definitely inset that my courtesy and behavior were in marked contrast to most of the rowdy kids in my class. So I was asked to play the lead in the Easter drama. I said "Yes" mostly because I couldn't think of a good reason to say "No", and Charlene DuBois and I were called in to the principal's office one afternoon to be introduced to Larry Purcell, who would direct the play presentation.

Larry, or Mr. Purcell as it started out, was about five feet ten, medium build, about thirty years old, and handsome as hell. He had been hired just that year as the dramatics coach at City College, a two-year junior college across town. I only knew a few of the high school teachers by sight, and none of the college profs, so it was our first meeting. I swear, the second I laid eyes on him, I thought he was perfect. His smile, so wide and white, and the soft way he shook my hand and treated me as an adult, and the polite way he acted toward me and Charlene – well, he made us feel like grown-up ladies. I know, because the next day Charlene told me frankly that she was in love with him.

Charlene had been selected to be the student coordinator, meaning that she was in charge of the costumes, props, sets, and so forth, under the supervision of a teacher, of course. Mr. Purcell went over a long list of things with Charlene, and then dismissed her and turned to me.

"Sorry to have made you wait so long, Sheri. I generally talk to the lead first, get that out of the way, and then I can spend a long time with the prop and set business."

"Hey! That's wonderful," he exclaimed, and I didn't have any idea of what he meant until later. And then it was too late. "Have you done any acting before?" Again I shook my head, and he went right on. "Well, that's all right. I'm sure your teachers knew you could handle it all right, or they wouldn't have selected you for the lead. And you look perfect to me. In every way. You understand, we may have to be here at school lots of evenings getting your part down letter perfect – will your folks have any objections to that? And can you keep your schoolwork up that way?"

I explained that only my Mom was at home, and she didn't much care where I was, or what I was doing, nor who I was with. As far as my grades went, they'd be no problem.

As we got ready to leave, after a half-hour of discussion of the general trend of the pageant, he helped me on with my coat, and I felt his strong arm encircle my shoulder and pull me close.

"We're going to get along wonderfully, Sheri, dear, I just know it. Right, honey?"

"Yes, sir," was all I could say.

"And don't call me 'sir'," he laughed. "You make me feel too old. Tell you what, honey – when others are around, I'll be Mr. Purcell, but when we're alone, I want you to call me Larry. O.K.?" And then that flashing smile melted my knees.

"Oooooh, yes. Larry." I tried it on for size. Both his hands caught my shoulders.

"This is to seal it, love," he said softly, and pulled me to him. As his head bent down over me, I closed my eyes and felt the soft heat of his lips on my mouth. I opened my lips and teeth, and his wet, hot tongue darted in and met mine. "Jesus, Sheri, where'd you learn to kiss like that?" he asked, still crushing my breasts against his heaving chest.

With the cocky confidence of trusting love, I laughed up at him and said, teasingly, "I'll never tell."

"Fair enough," he replied. "I don't like a girl that'll kiss and tell."

"Oh, I won't tell on us, either, Larry. I promise."

"Good, Sheri. I can see we're going to get along just wonderfully. I like you an awful lot, little angel, or I wouldn't have done what we just did. I like girls, and you're the sweetest by far that I've ever met. Keep that under your hat, but remember it."

We parted smiling at the front of the school, and I walked on cloud nine all the way home, eager for the next – the first official – play practice.

Mom just shrugged when I told her that I had the lead in the play and would be practicing and rehearsing every night for the next several weeks. I knew that she was glad to have me out of the house and not underfoot, and as long as it was a school function, she figured she'd know where I was. In a sense, she took the same care of me that a person gives a cat – feed it, shelter it, comply with the humane laws, and let it do what it wants. I had come to expect nothing more from her.

Mr. Purcell had scheduled play practice from six-thirty until nine, Monday through Friday, so the next evening after supper I went to the school at six-thirty sharp and went directly to the auditorium, where the lights were already on. Larry was there alone, and greeted me with a big smile. He told me to toss my coat on a seat in the front row, and we went up on the stage. It was my first time ever up on a stage, and the vastness of the big auditorium was awesome. I was worried if I'd ever be able to make the people in the back of the room hear and understand me. Stage fright, I guess.

Larry took my arm and led me across the stage to the side and we went between the curtain and the set that was propped there. Just as I was about to ask him where we were going, he stopped and turned me around and pulled me up close to him and hugged me tightly. I lifted my face toward his, closed my eyes, and he kissed me, gently at first, then more and more passionately and deeply and hotly. My arms went around his neck and my tongue darted and probed into his lust-filled mouth, our tongues battling and intertwining. I could feel my body melting in his embrace, and the thought of his warm love filled my mind and increased my desire for him.