Каран Андерс - The Book of Firsts

"Wild masks." Sean waved a painted gingerbread boy as if it was a fan. "Yards of brocade. Sumptuous colours. Anonymous kisses. I’m in."

"Seems fun," Sue said. "But we’re going to have to sell the Rose Court on the idea. Meggan lives near there—I’ll see if we can get her interested. Let’s make a day of it. Have lunch."

It was the kind of school where the difficulties of producing elaborate Venetian costume would be overcome by the relative wealth of the students. Since I hadn’t any intention of going to the Seniors' Ball, I probably shouldn’t have been suggesting themes. But it definitely would make for interesting posters.

The Saturday outing was at the forefront of my mind on Tuesday, as I sat watching Kyou pour tea. The Art Club had welcomed me wholeheartedly, offering up uncomplicated friendship. The Three Kings were far from simple, and yet would probably end up knowing me better than anyone else in this school. While pretending not to know me at all.

Promising myself that I wouldn’t let doubts detract from the benefits, I accepted the cup Kyou held out.

"What degree are you aiming for?" I asked him.

"A Masters of Finance and a Masters of Fine Arts."

That came as a surprise. I’d managed to completely miss that Kyou studied art, since I didn’t attend the art classes, only the club.

"Do you have a specific end point that joins those two together?"

"Yes."

The brevity of the response was another minor test of wills, but I serenely passed it by. "Running an art gallery?"

"Independent game studio. Kybirn. We released our first app over the school break. A small thing, just to establish a presence."

"Bran for programming, you for the art work and Rin for…?"

"Music. He composes."

While the forums had told me Rin played the violin, they’d also suggested he planned to become a doctor. I’d heard no mention whatsoever of games.

"Does this constitute something of a secret?"

"It does. Only Bran’s family wouldn’t vigorously oppose the move, and that’s because he long ago scotched their plans for him."

"I appreciate the gesture of trust."

He raised one eyebrow. "The four of us are already past gestures. Next week I’m going to strip you naked. Over the coming year the three of us will create a secret considerably juicier than career choices." He put down his cup and turned his chair a little. "Come here."

I didn’t move immediately, meeting and holding his gaze while taking a final sip of my tea. But he had himself well in hand, wearing an expression entirely suitable for a member of the student council as he waited until I rose and crossed to stand in front of him.

"Sit down."

I kept my expression as neutral as his, and moved forward, straddling him.

"You don’t strike me as a Petruchio," I said.

His eyes narrowed at my words, and then he said: " Come, sit on me ?" correctly identifying my reference. He slid his hands down to my behind and pulled me closer. "You wouldn’t be here if I were a Petruchio."

"Hm, true enough." I glanced down as he began unbuttoning my shirt, but didn’t comment, for all that the challenge had specified clothes stay on . "I’d find anyone who had some idea of taming me unspeakably tedious."

"You don’t match the Katherina type, anyway." Having unbuttoned my shirt, he reached around and unfastened my bra, then pulled it and my tie away so that he could enjoy a clear view of my breasts. "I wonder if Cheshire is truly appropriate, however."

"Baffling and amused?"

He kissed me then, ignoring the breasts he’d carefully exposed. It was a relaxed, exploratory kiss, and I responded in kind, wrapping my arms loosely around his neck. I’d not been certain how well I would handle this game as it grew more intimate, but despite his game-playing, I found Kyou very comfortable to get along with. Instead of being annoyed when he took extra steps, I only wished he’d go further.

Again, the alarm on his phone signalled we’d reached the time limit, and he stopped immediately, and shut it off. Eyes steadily on mine, he tilted me back a little and then bent and licked my right nipple. I took a second wavering breath as he shifted to my left breast and inhaled it whole, sucking hard. Just once, and then he straightened, and I could see that he was pleased with the reaction he’d provoked.

I responded by hooking my ankles around the chair legs and tightening my legs, an act which pressed me firmly down on the lump beneath me. That won me an intake of breath in return, and I smiled, then stood up, pulling my tie off.

My clothes were in complete disarray, so I stripped off shirt and bra as well, and dressed before Kyou’s appreciative eyes. As I was fastening the last button, he picked up my tie and knotted it neatly around my throat.

"I’ll see the rest of you next week, Cheshire."

The app had a message Friday morning: "Don’t eat lunch." I couldn’t tell which of the three it was from—the messages were displayed simply as part of the log, and could be viewed by all four of us.

I was musing over this when a green dot appeared in the garden, to match the one I’d placed in the trees outside. I climbed over the wall, jumping down lightly.

Rin, sitting on blankets spread on the grass, examining a pile of boxes containing sweets. Mostly a huge variety of cupcakes.

"You obviously shopped hard at the bake sale."

"In all the time I’ve gone to this school, I’ve never attended one. The day almost functions as a second Valentine’s, and we’ve always been bombarded with samples . There’s great interest in which, if any, we eat. I usually take all my offerings home for my sisters, but thought today was picnic weather."

"And no-one can see your choice here," I noted. "I hope your sisters like cupcakes."

"They’ll be waiting in ambush at the door when I get home."

"They don’t go to Corascur?"

"They start high school next year. Banana or chocolate milk?"

"Banana. How many sisters do you have?"

"Four. Two sets of twins. They all have a weakness for sugar."

"Do you remember who gave you which?" I asked, selecting a ladybug decorated cupcake.

"Some of them. That’s from a boy in tenth year. Keedy, I think his name is. This one—" He looked down at a rainbow frosted cake. "A red headed girl I don’t remember ever seeing before—must be new this year—shoved it at me wordlessly and raced off. They do it on dares. Not just with us three, of course, but we receive extra attention because we come as a set."

" It’s us, after all ," I murmured, and he laughed.

"Perhaps once we get to university, we’ll stand out less."

I doubted that, but asked him about his plans. He told me about his passion for game soundtracks, of wanting to make music that enhanced an experience, that illustrated stories. I watched him, tall, slender and effortlessly graceful, the sun turning his light brown hair golden, as if the world itself wanted him burnished and on a pedestal.

And then he put down his empty milk carton, leaned over and kissed me.

He tasted, unsurprisingly, of sugar, and offered sweet, brief kisses before guiding me to lie down on the blanket with him. Not in the mood to be entirely reactive, I slid one hand beneath his shirt and explored his back. He paused, then began to copy me. That became an entertaining game, both of us lying relaxed, watching each other’s faces as my hand moved from back to side to stomach, and his hand mirrored my path, dipping low as mine did, circling in teasing avoidance of quite touching the breast area, watching his faint, entertained smile fade toward intentness, until finally I gave in, slid my hand flat across his pectoral muscles, and closed my eyes in pleasure.