Invisible Girl - An Erotic Romance Pt. 02

At this, with a huge groan, he exploded a second time, his come not traveling as far as before, but his back arching upwards until he was supported only by his feet and shoulders for a moment before he flopped back down with a loud exhalation and lay there, breathing in gasps, his mouth open.

When he was able to talk he opened his eyes, looked dazedly up at her and said, "Are you sure you want to be my slave? God, I think I'm yours."

She smiled and kissed him, then ran quickly to the bathroom, returning with a wet washcloth. She cleaned him up, then kissed him again and said, "Next time, I'll be your slave. But my parents really are coming home any second."

She lay on the bed, watching him dress, then rose and, still naked, took his hand and accompanied him down to the front door. He kissed her, quickly but warmly, then turned and opened the door. She reached out and flipped on the porch light for him, but as she did so he grabbed her arm and pulled her outside onto the porch.

Before she could react he had wrapped his arms around her and kissed her deeply, his tongue slithering into her mouth, his hands gliding down her back, cupping and caressing her naked buttocks as he pressed her against him.

Now it was her turn to imagine her parents coming home--and finding her being kissed and fondled, naked, on the front porch. This vision, along with what he was doing, was enough to send her into another orgasm, and she held onto him tightly, gasping, as her hips jerked involuntarily against his.

When she had finished, he had simply smiled, kissed her again lightly, and said, "See you in school...slave," and walked off into the night, his footsteps crunching on the gravel.

Chapter Eight

"Do you want to go to the Graduation Ball with me?"

He got up from under the tree where he'd been waiting for her, grinning at the look of bewilderment on her face. She'd hardly stopped her bike in front of him when he'd said it and was now at a complete loss. He gave her a quick hug where she stood straddling her bike, and said, "Sorry. Guess I shouldn't have sprung it on you like that. C'mon, let's walk."

They continued along their usual route back to her house while he explained. "I wasn't planning to go, but my Dad... I can't figure him out. We get along okay, but sometimes I think he's mad at me all the time and doesn't even know it. Ever since my mother... Well, I told you about that. Maybe it's 'cause I look kinda like her, I don't know. Anyway, it's like he wants to keep me at a safe distance, in case I...you know, turn out to be like her, or something."

He looked straight ahead as he walked beside her, his voice tight with shame.

"But this morning, out of the blue he suddenly asked me about the prom and whether I was going--I have no idea why. Maybe he suddenly remembered I'm graduating this year and put two and two together," he added bitterly. "I told him I hadn't thought about it, and that it was a little late anyway since the Ball's next week, but he went on and on about what once-in-a-lifetime thing it was, and offered to pay for the tux and everything. I can't figure him out at all. I mean, he completely forgot my Senior Prom in high school."

He kicked at a small rock in the road, then turned his face to her and smiled. "So...you wanna go?"

She continued to walk on in silence.

He said, "C'mon, it'll be fun. Nobody knows we even know each other. Think of how shocked they'll be if we show up together."

Finally, Jane said, "Peter, I'd love to, but...well, for one thing, I don't think my parents can afford to buy me a formal gown. I told you how broke we are right now."

His face fell. "Right. I didn't even think about that. Sorry. And I don't guess Dad'd want to spring for that too. We don't have a lot of money either, what with paying to have my mother taken care of, and all. Damn."

She leaned over and bumped his shoulder with hers. "It's all right."

They walked along for a while, lost in thought, then she said, "Anyway, I like having us...just be for us, you know?"

He nodded, then suddenly turned and hugged her so fiercely that she would have dropped the bike if it hadn't fallen against her. And then she heard him say, softly, "I love you."

Everything went still inside her. Then it was as if something hard in her chest had suddenly melted and she said, her voice a little quavery, "Oh Peter, I love you too."

They stood looking at each other for a moment, then quickly turned away, embarrassed, and began to walk again.

After a long silence, she said, "I still think you should go to the prom." He looked at her. She continued, "Your Dad's right. You're graduating. You should go, if it's not too late to find someone."

She gave him a smile that was a little sad. "Then next year when I'm graduating you can come home from Kenton College and take me to mine, okay?"

He'd argued with her the rest of the way but she had persisted, and finally he had reluctantly agreed to see if there was anyone to go with. Two days later he'd told her that one of the girls from his drama club group had agreed to go with him, although apparently not very pleased with the short notice.

The night of the ball she stayed home. She tried to watch television. She tried not to picture herself, beautiful as Cinderella, entering the hall on his arm.

She tried not to cry.

She went to bed early.

She was awakened by the sound of something rattling against her window. Her clock said it was 2:30 in the morning. She peered sleepily out the window and saw him, immaculate in his black tie and tuxedo, looking up at her.

He was wreathed in mist, and for a moment she thought she might be dreaming that she was awake. But then he beckoned to her, and she made her way silently downstairs and outside to him, pausing only to slip on a pair of rubber sandals. His white dress shirt seemed to give off a bluish glow in the moonlight and his face above it seemed dreamlike as she approached.

"Peggy got drunk and passed out early," he'd whispered when she was near enough to hear. "About what I expected. I took her home and left her in a rocking chair on her front porch. Hope she doesn't get seasick."

She smiled at him, then yawned, and excused herself, asking, "How did you get here? Walk?"

"No. Dad let me have the car tonight. But I parked at the end of your driveway and walked up so your folks wouldn't hear me."

He had been holding one hand behind his back as they whispered, and now he extended it to her, saying, "They sure looked at me funny when I ordered two."

In his hand was a white cardboard box with a wide purple ribbon and bow around it.

She took it from him. Inside, when she'd managed to slip the ribbon off and remove the lid, she found a corsage of red rosebuds.

She looked up at him and smiled. And began to cry, just a little.

He wiped her tears away with his thumb, smiling at her, then took the corsage and pinned it, with some difficulty, to the shoulder of the oversize white t-shirt she was wearing as a nightgown.

Then he took her right hand in his left and, placing his other hand in the small of her back, began to dance with her there on the lawn, quietly humming a tune to her as they waltzed in and out of the drifting mist. After a while he let go of her hand and simply held her as they danced, ghostly figures in someone else's dream.

When the song ended, he bowed formally over her hand, and she curtsied in reply. They looked at each other, happy in this perfect moment.

Then he got a mischievous look in his eyes, and, leaning close, whispered, "I want to show you something. Undo my pants."

She felt jarred by this, as if he had broken the sweetness of the moment with his request. Nevertheless she sank to her knees in the cool, dewy grass. She unbuckled and unzipped his pants and let them fall around his ankles.

There was something familiar looking about his underwear but it was mostly obscured by his shirt, so she lifted the ends above his waist to look. His underwear was way too small, for one thing, stretched to the limit across his hips and not even reaching halfway to his navel. And that pattern... Boys his age didn't wear briefs with patterns, especially--she peered more closely--large and small red hearts.

A small hole where one had been cut out.

She dropped his shirt and quickly clapped both hands over her mouth to stifle her giggles. He had worn her panties to the prom!

She looked up to see him grinning down at her, saying, "I thought you'd like that. And, in case you were wondering: yes, I washed them first."

This caused her giggles to redouble, to the point where he had to drop to his knees as well and muffle her, by pressing her face to his chest and wrapping his tuxedo jacket around her, until she was able to control herself again.

Eventually she raised her head, tears of laughter in her eyes, shoulders still shaking slightly, and managed to say, "P-p-peter, that is so...so...s-sweet!" before collapsing into giggles again, although not as helplessly as before.

When she recovered she raised her face to his and kissed him. She allowed her hand to drift between his legs and began to stroke him there, but he gently took her hand away and, holding it, said, "No. I just wanted you to know I was thinking about you tonight."

He struggled to his feet and helped her up, then raised and re-fastened his pants. Then he took her face in his hands, kissed her, and said, "Go back to bed. I'll see you soon."

He kissed her again, then turned away, walking silently in the grass along the driveway until he disappeared.

She waited until she heard the distant sounds of his car starting up and driving away before going back inside.

She unpinned the corsage from her shirt and slept with it beside her pillow all night long, its perfume coloring her dreams.

Chapter Nine

"Have you ever wanted to be invisible?"

Jane had been waiting in line to get into the cafeteria for lunch when the sound of his voice made her start and turn around...to find him standing behind her and pretending to read the book he held open in his hands.

She had never told him about being the Invisible Girl.

She still often felt invisible when she wasn't with him, especially when she was at home. But it seemed to her that lately, she was gradually, if sporadically, becoming more visible.

She had, of course, started paying more attention to her clothing for his sake. Recently, however, she had also started removing her glasses when she didn't absolutely need them, such as between classes, or now, at lunchtime. She had even started wearing a lighter version of the make-up she had worn the night of the dance.

And somehow that had been enough to bring her into focus for some people. Two girlfriends with whom she had hardly spoken since high school had sat down with her at lunch and begun talking with her as if no time at all had passed, and had even invited her to a slumber party one of them was having. Boys she hardly knew sometimes said hello to her in the hallway, greeting her by name, which shocked her. Another girl she knew had come up to her and told her that a certain boy had asked her to find out if Jane was going out with anyone. She'd had no idea how to reply and had finally muttered something vaguely meant to be discouraging.

And just yesterday she had stood in front of her English class and read an essay, and while she still found the experience unnerving it hadn't been absolutely petrifying. The teacher had even complimented her on the improvement in her delivery. As she sat down she'd noticed that she was actually breathing somewhat normally. She'd wondered, half-seriously, if being a slave could somehow give a person more confidence.

But her relationship with Peter was something she definitely wanted to keep invisible. So it seemed a violation of their agreement to hear him speak to her in public like this, even if he was pretending he hadn't.

But it was kind of fun, too, like spies pretending not to know each other as they exchanged secret codes. There was no one behind him and, checking, she saw that the two girls in front of her were engaged in animated discussion. She moved away from them somewhat, turned her head slightly as if looking at something down the hall, and replied, barely moving her lips: "Sometimes. Why?"

Without looking up from his book, he replied, in the same fashion, "Oh, I was just thinking how cool it would be if you and I were both invisible right now."

"Why?"

He darted a quick glance and smile at her. "Because then you could lift up your dress, right here in front of everybody. And I could get down in front of you...and kiss your thighs...pull down your panties...and lick your pussy. You look very nice, by the way."

And with that he had closed his book and walked casually away, as if he'd suddenly decided the line was too long, leaving her as red-faced with embarrassment--and desire--as if he'd spoken loud enough for everyone around her to hear.

Later that afternoon she found him in the library, sitting in her favorite place. She thought for a moment. Then she walked towards him, as if she were going to speak to him--she saw him glance up at her in surprise--but instead swerved all the way behind him and continued on until she was in the part of the room that was hidden from the rest of the library by bookshelves. This area was, as usual, deserted. She stopped and turned towards where he was sitting. She saw him shift his position so that he could see her while still appearing to be reading his book.

Then, holding his gaze, she reached down with both hands and slowly began to lift up her dress, watching his expression as she gradually exposed first her panties, then her belly, and finally her bra. She cupped her breasts with both hands and toyed with them for a moment, then continued to hold up her dress with one hand while the other slid sensuously down over her belly to slide slowly in and out between her legs a few times.

Then she simply let her dress fall back into place and walked out of the library.

Chapter Ten

The next morning as Jane walked into her first class of the day her teacher handed her an envelope. It was official Ridgeton Community College stationery--the return address was embossed in the upper left-hand corner--and her name was typed in the address section.

Inside it was a form letter telling Jane that she was scheduled for a "Disciplinary Hearing" with her Student Advisor that afternoon.

For a moment her mind went completely blank. She hadn't known there was such a thing as a Student Advisor at Ridgeton and could not for the life of her recall anything she had done that would require a meeting with this one.

When she examined the form more closely, however, she saw that she was to report to a "Mr. Peters". And in the section marked "Reason for Meeting" was written, "Being a very bad little girl."

Oh god, he was going to punish her again. Make her do humiliating things. Spank her. Or worse.

She could hardly wait.

All day long--and the day seemed extremely long, crawling by with excruciating slowness--she would suddenly snap back to the present and realize that she had again drifted off into a fantasy, combining elements of things he had done to her with feverish imaginings of things that he might do, or make her do.

She had to restrain herself from sneaking off into the girls' bathroom to touch herself; she wanted to let the anticipation build. Near the end of the day she did allow herself to visit there, but only to use the toilet, and to check her appearance. She hoped he would like the way she was dressed (He was so cute to say that yesterday, right after talking so dirty to her.) in a rose-print blouse, matching dark red skirt and a wide black belt, plus her usual penny loafers and white knee socks.

When the school day finally ended she had to force herself to dawdle, to take her time closing up her books and putting away her notebooks and pens and glasses while the classroom emptied out, when what she wanted to do was simply jump up and run to find the room designated on the meeting form.

She wanted to see him looking at her as she took her clothes off...hear him telling her to do things she shouldn't do...feel him violating her with his fingers and his cock. When she finally stood up to leave she could hardly walk for the quivering sensation between her legs.

She made her way with deliberate slowness down the hall to her locker and stored all her books and supplies there. Then she followed the classroom numbers until she reached the back part of the building, where she found the one she was looking for.

The window in the door was covered over from the inside with pink construction paper, on which the words "Yearbook Staff" had been scrawled in black magic marker. Ah. Peter had been on the yearbook staff, and although the yearbook was now complete he would still have a key. After quickly making sure there was no one around, she knocked.

When the door opened, though, she thought she must have come to the wrong room by mistake. The man who opened the door was obviously college faculty, judging by the badly fitting blue suit and striped tie, the slicked-down hair and the heavy, black-framed eyeglasses. She wondered for one panic-stricken moment if this really was Mr. Peters, a faculty member she hadn't seen before.

But then she remembered the "bad little girl" line on her form and simultaneously noticed that the somber glasses frames had no lenses in them. Oh god, it was...

"Miss Harkin? I'm Mr. Peters. Come in, please."

He held the door open for her and shut it behind her as she walked in. The front half of the room looked like any classroom in the school: an old wooden desk and chair; a blackboard running the length of the wall behind them; and facing them, several rows of combination chair-desks. The back of the room held the only residual evidence of yearbook activity: several long tables littered with layout sheets, rulers, scissors, marking pencils and glue. The back wall held a chaotic montage of black & white photos in various sizes. The venetian blinds at the far side of the room were closed.

"Sit right there, Miss Harkin," he said, gesturing to the seat directly facing the wooden desk.

"Yes, Mr. Peters," she replied, trying not to smile. She sat, and looked at him expectantly.

He pulled out the wooden chair and sat down at the desk, facing her. He opened the book that was lying there, and began to read.

For a few moments she simply sat there looking at him, enjoying his transformation. She thought he must have borrowed the glasses, and probably the suit, from the drama department. The heavy black frames, combined with the cheap suit, the longish sideburns and the slick hair, made him look more like an intellectual gangster than a faculty member, really. It was so cute!

But...when was he going to do something to her?

All day long she'd been imagining walking into a room like this and immediately being made to bend over, or kneel in front of him, or something. The quivering sensation between her legs had only increased since she'd sat down. She wanted him to come kneel in front of her and spread her legs apart with his hands, to kiss and nuzzle her there...

He turned a page.

Minutes went by.

He turned another page.

Was this some kind of reverse punishment? To let her imagine all kinds of things, get herself all worked up, and then ignore her?

When he turned another page she was ready to scream. Instead, she forced herself to think.

After a moment she lifted her feet onto the metal rung between the front chair legs. Then she put her head down as if tired, resting it in the crook of her left arm and leaving her right hand lying in her lap.