Slaughterhouse High Part 21

"Sure. He could fix it."

Dex was right. Soft doughy congenial Gerber Waddell, head janitor of the quiet ways and kind smile, would rummage around in his hollowed-out skull and come up with the fix, a found treasure glittering in his brain. She hadn't seen much of him since he had switched on the colored lights. "Where do you think he mighta"?"

A cheer went up beyond the table where Mr. Dunsmore and Daub Murch had sat, signing seniors in. A back-walking, front-walking band of kids appeared, surrounding and egging on a pair of football jocks who were carrying the corpses of two girls.

Oh lovely, came Tweed's first thought. Female dates, just like twenty years before. Wouldn't that non-linearize poor old Mr. b.u.t.tweiler!

Then she fixed on the victims, their heads rollicking jerkily in the crooks of elbows.

The one with the O'd mouth and not a drop of blood anywhere was Flense, a math whiz and a quick wit. It chilled Tweed to see the wan, slack-jawed face of a long-time friend approach so.

And lumbering by beside her in a crewcutted jock's arms, her fingers missing from the hand in front and a bib of blood splashed like a riotous poinsettia where her belly should have been, was Pescadera Carbone. Pesky. Flighty, funny, and now lifeless.

"Oh, G.o.d," said Dex. "It's so . . . ."

"Yeah, no kidding."

Tweed stared at them.

The slow parade rhythmed by, some of the students sobbing, strange grins lighting other faces, all of them awkwardly taking up the pace no one in particular had established.

Dex and Tweed, latching onto the tail, made their way toward the gym. A great pain lanced through Tweed's gut, a pain inscribed with two names: Pesky and Flense.

But also there, and all about, were bright pings of joy, bubble bursts, sniffs of champagne, and each one said, Not Lon. Not Jerzy. Not Camilla. Not this friend or that.

The ping which burst most often, again and again, proclaimed, with sweet relief, Not Dex!

"Let's go inside," he said softly.

Tweed hugged him, long and teary, and they did.

"Hi, Blayne," Altoona said. Friendly sarcasm and at-lastness colored her words. "See anything you'd like to try on?"

"Yep," he said. "Two things."

Condor stood next to him, a hair taller and hyped, his lip-zipper aglisten with fresh licked spittle.

Altoona's left hand lightly gripped the rounded edge of a sewing table. Pim's laced fingers stroked her date's knuckles in high elation.

"Hi, Blayne," Pim said. "Hi, Condor."

"h.e.l.lo," Condor tried. Something in his tone provoked a round of giggling.

The windowless costume shop had its lights up full. Though the place went on for miles, the myriad racks, choked with costumes and huddled about them, made it feel somehow cozy.

Altoona became aware of her heartbeat, a delicious antic.i.p.atory lub-dub, lub-dub.

"You guys sure look sharp," her lover said.

She knew the soft-voiced antic.i.p.ation that seized Pim in the prelims. That's what Altoona heard now.

It gave moisture and swell to her gens.

"And you girls look rounded in all the right places," said Condor.

It sounded stupid, fake-suave.

When Condor cast a look of embarra.s.sment in Blayne's direction, it led to a second volley of laughter, during which Blayne ushered his friend forward.

"You take the stuff?" she asked. It hadn't done much for her, but Pim was pretty loopy.

"Oh yeah," Blayne said. "A killer coaster."

"Setting mostly," she commented. "But now that we're past the slaughter, ain't nothin' but smooth sailing and clear vistas ahead."

Blayne nodded as he came closer, but it was clear he wasn't one bit interested in listening.

He cobra'd Altoona's eyes. His hand found her free hand, their fingers entwining at their sides as he eased in to kiss her.

There was that warmth again, a zillion times warmer. His rough-nubbed lips pebbled across her pillowy ones. It turned Altoona on.

She tongued metal.

Rise, fall, rise, fall of zipper-teeth.

Cabrille's handiwork indeed. Much like the licking she'd given Pim the night before, but oh so different as well.

Condor and Pim were engaged in an awkward embrace, rocking and swaying, their lips blending.

Blayne's mouth slanted across her cheek to her right earlobe, his zipper moving like a moist blunt blade pretending to cut her face.

Friendship lobe indeed!

It was more like another lefty, her s.e.xlobe's twin, when the metal ring of his lips encased her flesh. She gasped upon his cheek when he fingered her left lobe through its lobebag.

First fondle.

She boldly did likewise to him, diddling him through his thin, flexible leather.

The daring of it! If anybody caught them, they'd be expelled. Denied graduation.

Forced to repeat senior year.

Forced to attend next year's prom.

It made what they were doing explosively exciting.

Pim was moaning beside her.

Glancing over, Altoona saw an inept hand fumble at Pim's lobebag, tug on its bowstrings, yank it swiftly off. The sight of the exposed s.e.xlobe jazzed and juiced her.

Pim's head swung right, her heavy-lidded eyes aglow with drugs and desire, as the usually shy Condor slurped eagerly at her engorged lobe.

Blayne wore a tight elastic designer bag, as did Altoona. He was shimmying hers down and she his, his lobe so nice and thick and warm and s.e.xy beneath her fingers.

Blayne eased her head around.

Racks of courtly costumes hung like dead kings and queens crammed together.

The touch of his tongue, the cool slide of zipper teeth, took her breath away. Her quim was dripping, the swollen l.a.b.i.a tight about zip-jags of niobium.

As much as she longed to be sucked into lobate ecstasy, she wanted even more to lick Blayne there too at the same time.

Impossible.

She stopped him and whispered the word into his left ear, her chin at his s.e.xlobe as she spoke: "Foursome." She drew back to see his eyes flare with naughtiness and delight.

Then Altoona was both leading and being led, Blayne hovering at her left shoulder, laughing but mostly keeping his lips at her lobe.

She laughed too.

Into the other couple they toppled, a slow sensual collide, her lips finding Condor's s.e.xlobe while he tongued Pim's.

Blayne's muted moan at her lobe, the tiny pain of zipper teeth biting into her arousal, signaled what she sensed: that Pim's hot mouth had moue'd around his engorged lovelobe, their illegal lovesquare at last complete.

Now all was sucking and being sucked.

Hands roved in every direction. Belts were yanked off, skirts raised.

But head play held sway. It was so majorly mindblowingly incredible, moving higher at each tongued urging, pa.s.sing them on, grokking that Condor was turning Pim on with the same curled spiral of energy.

And she Blayne.

And on back to Altoona.

Pim climaxed first, that sweet tight s.e.xy childlike unngh that Altoona so loved, with the upward flip which led so sweetly from one catch breath to another.

Then they all came, an absurd lovely quartet of uninhibited noise.

In the midst of her o.r.g.a.s.m, she felt Blayne ease past her panties, stretching the lacy thigh-hole.

He found what he sought.

Zip-teeth.

Her inner l.a.b.i.a behind them.

He used her hot quim to wet her nub, gently circling there, his knuckles knocking lightly at embedded metal.

Then she was off again, thrusting, gripping Blayne about the shoulders, wanting him inside her so badly, wanting his lobe on her nipples, on her c.l.i.t, wanting it all.

Pim would be there to help, or to be set upon in turn.

And Condor too, d.a.m.n their warped society so insistent on three! He would make four, and four would be just fine. Then she couldn't think anymore, surges of o.r.g.a.s.m rotating the tinseled costume room about her like a carousel.

"Hey, I know!" Blayne said. She only half heard him, hugging him, gasping downward, the st.u.r.dy table behind her a blessing to her balance.

"What?" said Condor, too loud but that was okay. The poor dear was excited and riding high on some pretty good s.h.i.t.

Pim toyed with his zipper pull, there where his smile came to an acute angle that pointed to his friendship lobe.

"Take Pim's clothes off, I'll show you." He had already unzipped Altoona. Now he eased the leather skirt down over her ample hips. She did thigh sways to help out, kicking her pumps off on the thread-wisped floor.

Her leather vest hung open.

His hot hands smoothed over her tummy, her spine, went through her private hair and down her b.u.t.t slit, caught at lace briefs and eased them off and away.

"We gonna dress 'em up?" Condor asked. He was slower in stripping Altoona's girlfriend, but Pim's succulent body finally came full naked into the costume shop's gaudy light.

"No, stupid."

"Aw, come on, guys," said Pim. "Dress us up."

Blayne leaned over and kissed Altoona's lips. He caressed her s.e.xlobe with one hand and pinched a nipple with the other.

She seized up in that hot frenzied way as if someone had dropped an ice cube down the back of her dress. She didn't mind a bit.

Blayne broke the kiss and said, "I have a better idea than playing dress-up. You're gonna like it."

He knelt before Altoona, using her leather skirt to cushion his knees. Angling his neck to the right, he lined up his lips with her l.a.b.i.a.

Condor caught on and did likewise with Pim.

It was a gas, watching Condor and Pim fumble their zippers together, even as she and Blayne did the same. It was like being tickled in lots of yummy places while trying to zip two sleeping bags together with greased fingers.

Blayne slid his zipper pull, the one along his lower lip, into the starter at the base of her right l.a.b.i.a. Altoona made a try at hers, joining it with his upper lip starter, but he began to tongue her and that threw her off.

"Wait," she said. "If you keep doing that, I'll never get this in."

He held off.

Then she had it.

It didn't catch on any skin along the way, but glided up as his glided down on the right, making an intimate seal between them.

Everything felt fine and warm and good.