Motionless, Part 6

Part 6:

Why the hell did I agree to do this?

Bridget’s first—and last—homecoming was a travesty so far. The date Clara arranged for her had been a no-show. She had built herself up to this. She had taken Clara’s and Victoria’s coaching to heart and spent hours every day learning to do her hair and makeup. The effort had encouraged her to take more pride in her appearance, but now there was no payoff. Now, she felt more unattractive and unwanted than ever.

Jenna had mono and was staying home, so she was down a friend on top of everything else. Aidan was there, of course, but girls encircled him at all times now that he was single again. She had hoped watching them drag him onto the dance floor would give her a laugh, but it had only made her feel worse. When she cast her watery eyes around, she found Clara and Matty had disappeared at some point. Around then, her sadness compressed into a smoldering coal of absolute anger.

Filled to the brim with anxiety and fury, Bridget snuck out of the gym to mope through the hall between the sports complex and the school. She hadn’t set foot there since the night of her last volleyball game because it brought up so many memories. It would make the perfect place to wallow in self-pity and spiral into a mental breakdown. It had to be better than watching people she couldn’t stand dry-humping all evening.

For the most part, the halls looked the same as they had when she was an athlete. The boys’ trophies stood in a large glass case built into the north wall. Spotlights highlighted the football and baseball memorabilia in particular. On the opposite wall, the girls’ much smaller case looked like the afterthought it was. She stopped before it to stare at one of the more recent additions.

It was the state cup she had helped the volleyball team win two years ago. She read the names stamped onto the plinth it rested on and sniffed when she saw her own among them. They hadn’t made it very far into the national championship, but it had been enough. Coach Autry earned the principal’s respect, and better funding for girls’ athletics followed. Bridget smiled as she stared at the tangible proof of her one true victory. The last she had achieved before her growth spurts started back up. If she had to have a last hurrah, she was glad it had done something positive for future athletes.

The team photo hanging above the trophy was a good one. True to form, Mary was laughing with her arms wrapped around one of their curvier teammates, Trish. Kaya and Hanna stood on either side of them, taller and leaner than everyone else on the team. Jenna and Clara grinned at the camera as they squeezed Bridget between them. She lingered on her own chest in disbelief. Had she really complained about her size back then? She was so tiny she could hardly believe it. If memory served, she had been around a J-cup at the time, still big but manageable. She looked down at herself and sighed at the changes time had wrought. Her tits pressed against the glass case from more than a foot away. She would kill to be that small again.

It didn’t help that she’d had to wear a dress for the occasion. She hadn’t worn one since her mom dragged her to a relative’s wedding when she was fifteen. At least they had found something to fit her back then. No one could say the same about the pale blue gown she wore now. Her mom had fished it out of the plus-size section of a department store and spent more than a week altering it to fit her. A friend on her Parents of Hypertrophic Daughters social media group had shared a few tailoring tricks to modify the bust. By splitting the front of the skirts from the bodice, they converted it into something more supportive. The size and weight of Bridget’s breasts concealed the seam, and it gave her more freedom of movement. Bridget appreciated her efforts, but with a whopping 60 pounds of breast hanging off of her, she wasn’t planning to dance that night. There was no room for a boy to stand in front of her without squeezing him into her cleavage.

She saw a flash of something moving behind her in her reflection off the trophy case. Before she could react, someone wrapped their arms around her and pulled her into a crushing bear hug. It wasn’t painful or aggressive, and there was something familiar about it. The person grabbed the undersides of her breasts and hoisted them toward her chin—no mean feat.

“Mary?” Bridget squealed.

“How’d you know it was me?” Mary sniggered in mock surprise.

“Get off!”

Bridget couldn’t quite stifle a giggle as her former team captain fondled her breasts. She still knew all her ticklish spots. Mary finally let her go, and Bridget spun around to look her in the eye.

“Watch where you’re swinging those things!” Mary laughed as she stepped back and made a big show of dodging Bridget’s tits. “You could kill somebody, Jugs!”

“Don’t call me that!” Bridget laughed, falling right back into her old habits. “Wait, what are you doing here? I thought you moved to Colorado or something.”

“Connecticut,” Mary corrected. “And I came home for fall break. Coach Autry caught me jogging the other day and asked me to patrol the halls tonight. I expected to find a couple of freshmen blowing each other or something. Imagine my surprise when I stumbled on ol’ Tommy Jugs, bigger and better than ever!”

Bridget shook her head and smiled. Mary was as vibrant and crass as ever. She always envied that about her. Mary told people what she thought and felt. She was free.

“You know I always despised that nickname, right?”

“Why do you think we used it all the time?” Mary laughed.

Bridget readjusted her dress. Her tits had slipped out of place, exposing her underboobs and the opening in the front.

“You’re lucky I’m legal now, or I’d call the cops on your ass.”

“You’d do that to an old friend and mentor?”

“The only thing I ever learned from you was to stay far away from lesbian bars,” Bridget chuckled.

“Anyway,” Mary said, watching her return her breasts to their proper place. “What are you sulking out here for? Not much of a dancer?”

Bridget finished her adjustments and gestured to her chest.

“What do you think?”

“Oh come on, I’ve seen strippers with bigass fakers dance without too much trouble.”,

“Good for them.”

“You should get in there and dance with some guys. Hell, dance with a few girls, too. You’ve gotta live a little, Jugs.”

“I was hoping to try that, but my date stood me up...” try that.

Mary winced and sucked air in through her teeth.

“Ough, sorry.”

“That reminds me, though. Have you seen Clara around?”

“I can’t say I have,” Mary said, shaking her head. “Is she still with that himbo? The one that looks like he can’t read. Marty? Mickey?”

“Matty.”

“Yeah, that dipshit,” Mary laughed. “She could do so much better.”

“Be nice,” Bridget said. “They’re happy together.”

Mary shrugged and walked over to the trophy case.

“We couldn’t have done it without you, you know.”

Bridget cocked her head to one side. Mary sounded genuine for a change.

“Couldn’t have done what?”

“Won that cup, ding-dong,” Mary said. “It broke our hearts when you had that last growth spurt. Even Coach Autry looked like she was gonna cry when we heard you’d have to quit. You were the heart and soul of the team and a hell of a player. We couldn’t win without you.”

“I never did much,” Bridget said, feeling awkward in the face of sudden praise. “You and Jenna always scored the most.”

“You set us up. I think Coach said you had more assists than the rest of the team combined. The ball never touched the ground if you were anywhere nearby.”

“Are you coming on to me or something?” Bridget asked. “I’m still not into girls, you know.”

“I have a girlfriend,” Mary said.

She spun around, grinned at her, and held her hands a few inches from her chest.

“Tits out to here and cute as a button.”

Bridget rolled her eyes and put her hands on her hips. Her boobs may have grown over the years, but Mary hadn’t changed a bit.

“Ooh, listen,” Mary said, holding a finger to her lips and tilting her head to one side.

The thumping dance music pounding through the gymnasium gave way to a slow-dance number.

“What am I supposed to be hearing?”

“Your cue,” she said.

She twisted Bridget’s arm behind her back before pushing her down the hall.

“Wait, what?” Bridget protested. “You’re choosing now to take your job seriously?”

“Sorry, but Coach told me to keep the halls clear,” Mary explained as she frog-marched her to the door. “And you need to get in there and have some fun! Dance, Juggy, dance!”

She shoved Bridget through the nearest double door and back into the gym. She narrowly avoided overbalancing and craned her neck around to see Mary smiling and wiggling her fingers at her before walking away.

You fucking bitch…

As luck would have it, Bridget ended up just a few feet away from Gary Fuchs. She caught him leering at her while he stuffed his face with chips, so she rushed to busy herself at the punch bowl across the room. She didn’t want him staring at her boobs. Especially not when there was so much more on display than she liked. For all her mother’s custom alterations, the dress had a lower neckline than her usual baggy sweaters and quadruple XL T-shirts. The double support from her bra and the dress’s built-in cups hoisted them up a little too high. She worried people would think she was trying to show them off. Bridget wanted to disappear, but Mary wouldn’t let her do that. She thought she was helping and wanted her to loosen up and have fun.

Isn’t that what Victoria said to do? Asked a no-nonsense voice in her mind. Own your body and enjoy what makes you unique?

She was never as big as me, though, she argued with herself.

So own that, her other half riposted. As far as anyone knows, you’re the biggest ever. Be proud of how massive you are.

She heard a giggle from behind that snapped her out of her internal dialogue right before something soft and weighty collided with her.

“Bridget!”

As Clara’s hip collided with Bridget’s body squealed her name her usually soft voice reached hitherto unexplored peaks of pitch and volume. It echoed out over the dance music, causing a few dancers to stop and look around.

“Shh!” Bridget hissed once she had recovered her balance. “We’re trying to lay low, remember?”

Then she remembered that she was still angry with Clara for wandering off.

“And you left me on my own! What the hell?”

“I know, I know,” Clara slurred. “Bud I came back, righ’?”

Bridget looked at her friend in confusion and then the pieces fell into place. Her rage at her friend’s carelessness intensified, and she dragged Clara by one arm to a corner of the room further away from prying eyes and ears. Once there, she laid into her as surreptitiously as she could manage.

“You’re drunk?” She demanded. “Really?”

“Ouch…” Clara whined, rubbing her elbow where Bridget had seized it a moment before. “Izz no big deal. Matty god ‘is hands on shum—”

She stifled a belch with one fist and continued once she was sure nothing else was coming up.

“—of’ is mom’s booze for me.”

She leaned in closer to Bridget, her clumsy hands pawing at her breasts as she almost fell over. Then she righted herself, one hand gripping Bridget’s shoulder and the other cupped in the general vicinity of her ear. Her breath was heavy with the scent of alcohol and something else.

“An’ I shucked’ is dick onna bleachers.”

“Ugh, Clara!”

Bridget pushed her away and rubbed her ear as if Clara’s words carried some infectious disease. Clara giggled again, but her eyes went wide and she scrabbled at thin air before landing flat on her butt. Bridget looked around, but—through some minor miracle—no one had noticed their altercation. She rushed over and lifted Clara to her feet, thankful her pear-shaped friend didn’t have to worry too much about a bruised tailbone. She had plenty of extra padding back there.

“So where’s Matty now?” Bridget asked, looking around for any sign of him.

“Oh, yeah!”

Clara remembered what she came to tell Bridget in the first place. She seemed to sober up somewhat as she gave her the news.

“Les called! He said he had a flat tire, but he’s comin’a’get you!”

Bridget raised one eyebrow. She was skeptical, but a cool wash of hope tempered the ember of rage and disappointment lodged deep within her chest. She reconsidered the opinion that she had formed over the last half-hour. Maybe people weren’t universally terrible.

“He couldn’t have called sooner?” She asked.

“He called about twenty minutes ago, but Matty and I were…busy.”

Her eyes misted over and her speech slowed to a slurred drawl once more.

“Ew,” Bridget stated.

“Aw, wadda you know? You’ve never sugged a cock before. It’s kinda’mazing, bleev itter not.”

“I’ll take your word for it, but back up a little. What did you mean by ‘coming to get me’?”

“This party suuucks…”

Clara groaned out the last word and giggled again. Bridget began to wonder if she had consumed more than just alcohol.

“We’re all gonna leave and go to that hotel I told you guys about. Les’s family has tons of money, so he called and got our reservation bumped up to a suite. We’ll have two bigass rooms to do whatever we want all night!”

“I don’t know…”

Clara let out a loud grunt of frustration, mostly drowned out by an explosive bass drop as the music switched gears again. The girls on the dancefloor resumed twerking, and the boys grabbed their hips and assumed the position.

“Then again, I’m not into that either.”

“If yer coming,” Clara slurred. “‘S’go.”

She wobbled off on unsteady legs. Bridget hesitated for a moment before she followed her. The more sensible part of her psyche was nagging at her again.

Do I want to go to a hotel with a guy I’ve never met? Clara vouched for him, but she doesn’t know him very well, either. What if he’s a creep?

She caught the door as Clara went through and then turned to get one last look at the dancefloor. Eva was sipping punch on one side, pink-faced and glistening. From what Bridget had seen, she must have danced with half the football team already. A couple of players were still chatting her up and fawning over her. Bridget shifted her focus to the middle of the gym floor. Three girls bold enough to move in on Eva’s sloppy seconds had surrounded Aidan. They were dancing like so many others, bent over to rub their asses against him. And he looked…

Uncomfortable?

Bridget knew him well enough to recognize the signs of uncertainty on his face. She considered partying ways with Clara and the boys to go bail him out, but a callous voice in her head stopped her from acting on it.

He made his bed, it told her. Let him lie in it. He wanted to be Mr. Popular, and now he’s got every slut in the school gunning for him. You don’t  need him, and you don’t owe him anything.

She spun on her heel, too angry to think about the effect such a motion would have on her anatomy. Once her breasts had swung around a moment later and slammed the door against the wall, she rushed outside. A few people took notice of the noise, but no one went after her.

● ● ●

Fifteen minutes later, following an introduction to Les and much adjusting of the front passenger seat, Bridget was riding shotgun in his mom’s borrowed SUV. Clara and Matty pawed at each other in the back seat, but the two strangers up front hadn’t said much to each other since the drive began. At one point Les complimented her dress, and Bridget thanked him, but awkward silences stretched out for miles between the small talk.

Les was as attractive as Clara’s picture had made him out to be. He had strong features, good skin and hair, and his eyes were a piercing shade of icy blue that fondly reminded her of her neighbor’s old Malamute. She thought she could grow to like him, but personality was a big thing for her. One thing she had always liked about Aidan…

Stop it, the callous voice interjected. Don’t compare assholes to oranges.

She turned toward the window. It was ostensibly to look at the sunset, but she wanted to disguise her sniggering at her own stupid pun. She didn’t want Les to think she was laughing at him.

“So, um, Bridget,” he said, clearing his throat. “Clara said you like video games?”

She turned back to him with a polite smile and nodded.

“Yeah, retro stuff for the most part.”

Les raised his eyebrows.

“Oh yeah? Like how retro are we talking? N64/PS1 era? Older?”

“SNES is my favorite, but I like those, too.”

“Any particular reason you stick to older stuff?”

Bridget considered fibbing, but decided to be up front about her situation. It was best to start the relationship off on the right foot.

“Well, it’s embarrassing in a weird way,” she said, turning pink in the cheeks. “When I started, um, growing clothes and stuff got more expensive. I had to replace half my closet every other month, so I could never afford to get the newer consoles. I had to settle for what I could afford from thrift shops and stuff. I like RPGs because they’re long. You get more game for your money that way.”

She caught Les sneaking glances at her chest while she was talking. She didn’t call him out on it, and he didn’t notice she caught him.

“That makes sense, I guess,” he said.

“There are some amazing older games though,” Bridget continued, grinning at his little faux pas. “The original Legend of Zelda, Chrono Trigger, Mega Man, Dragon Quest, the old Spyro games, there’s a lot of great stuff. Have you played a lot of older games?”

Les shrugged.

“I’ve played some remakes, but I mostly play shooters and sports games.”

“Oh…”

Bridget hadn’t meant to sound so disappointed, but she was hoping they’d found some common ground.

“But I liked Chrono Trigger,” he said. “My older brother showed that one to me when we were kids. I could never get into turn-based stuff myself, but the story was cool.”

Bridget smiled at him. At least he was trying.

“Yeah,” she agreed. “Ayla was always my favorite. Such a cool character.”

“Was that the hot caveman girl or the princess?”

“The first one,” she giggled.

“Oh, yeah, she was pretty cool.”

There was another silence, but this time it was broken by a low moan from the back seat. Les turned his head around for a split second and shouted at the lovers in the back.

“If you two get anything on my mom’s seats she’s gonna reupholster them with your skin!”

He turned his eyes back to the road again and sighed.

“Has Clara always been such a horn dog?” He asked.

“Not until she met Matty. But I guess he’s her first boyfriend, so who knows?”

He considered her words for a moment and then asked another question. This time there was notable trepidation in his voice.

“Sorry if this is weird or rude or something,” he began, licking his lips with nervous intensity. “But how did you get so, uh, big?”

Bridget remembered all the progress she had made working with Victoria and Clara and resisted the urge to try to cover up the exposed parts of her chest. It was a very personal question, but one that was inevitable. Her breasts were so huge and obvious people couldn’t help but be curious. If what Clara had told her was true, Les had a particular fascination for girls with unusually large breasts. He had been patient and polite, so she decided to throw him a bone.

“It’s a medical condition,” she said. “Called ‘virginal breast hypertrophy.’ I started growing when I was about 12 and sort of never stopped.”

“Whoa…” Les muttered, obviously stunned.

“‘Whoa’ is right,” Bridget said with a sardonic grin. “I have to buy really expensive bras from special websites. My mom even got into sewing so she could help tailor my clothes to save money.”

Les shifted uncomfortably in his seat. She could tell everything she was talking about was affecting him somehow.

Is he getting horny? She wondered. Let’s find out.

With the floodgates opened, she was finding it easier to tell him about her condition and the hardships that stemmed from it. She decided to play up the “perpetual growth” side of things.

“I’ve been growing nonstop for about six years now. We still don’t know when it will stop, but it would be dangerous to try to operate on them until they at least slow down. I guess there have been a few long periods where it gets so slow it’s hard to tell, but then there are times when I grow a few sizes overnight. That’s what happened the first time.”

She paused and noticed Les’s breathing was heavier. He was gripping the steering wheel tighter than necessary, and there was a sheen of sweat on his forehead. His eyes were glued to the road as if he was worried he wouldn’t be able to stop looking at her boobs if he so much as glanced in their direction. She thought she was beginning to see why Clara liked teasing boys so much. It was kind of fun.

“My doctor told me I might have the most severe case of VBH ever,” she continued. “And I may have some unique form of the condition. I've never seen anyone bigger. Have you?”

Les let out a strangled sound she took to mean “no” and kept his hands firmly on the steering wheel. She heard leather creaking as his grip tightened.

“What do you think about them?” She asked. “Honestly, are they just gross at this size?”

Les remained silent as they drove up to a streetlight and coasted to a complete stop. The sun had gone down during their drive across the county and the red light glared out of the dark like some angry cyclopean monster. Les turned to look at her, his striking blue eyes firmly locked on her face.

“I think you’re hot as hell,” he said. “I can hardly believe you’re real.”

Bridget was taken back by his reply. Her face turned red and she felt her pulse quicken. Someone had paid her a direct compliment. Though she felt bashful about it, she felt attractive and confident—powerful even.

“Th-thank you,” she muttered, turning her face away. “I don’t think anyone has ever called me that before.”

Maybe Victoria’s right, she thought. Guys really do respond to the direct approach.

“Are you kidding me?” Les exclaimed. “You’re smoking! I keep thinking I’ll wake up or find out this was all some crazy prank for a TV show or something. It’s not, right?”

“Nope,” Bridget squeaked. “All real.”

“Thank fucking god for that,” Les sighed as the light changed to green. “We’re just a couple of blocks from the hotel now.”

He twisted in his seat and shouted back to Clara and Matty again

“Hey! Quit sucking each other off for a minute and get ready to check in!”

He returned to the proper driving position and zoomed off down the busy city street. Bridget found herself wondering just what he was planning to do at the hotel. She didn’t know Les well enough to go all the way with him, but maybe she could let him get as far as second base.

That would be a treat for a guy who’s into big boobs, right?

“Are your parents gonna freak out about you being out all night?” Les asked. “I know this wasn’t the original plan, and I don’t want you to get in trouble.”

“That’s sweet of you, but I told them I’d probably be out late with Clara. We’re legal now, so they can’t really stop us.”

“That’s cool,” Les nodded. “No worries about helicopter parents, huh?”

Bridget shook her head.

“Nuh-uh, my parents are pretty happy I’m getting out, to be honest.”

“Hell yeah.”

Les pulled into the hotel parking lot and rolled to a stop at the front doors. He spun around in his seat again and jabbed a thumb toward the building.

“Go ahead and check us in,” he ordered. “I’ll find a place to park and meet you guys in the lobby.”

Clara and Matty untangled themselves from each other and lurched out of the car. Les watched them amble into the lobby before turning to Bridget, who was already opening her door as well.

“Oh, did you want to go with them?”

“I guess that might be a good idea,” Bridget said with a shrug. “Clara could barely string more than a few words together.”

“You may be right,” he agreed. “But I thought maybe we could get to know each other a little better before we went up.”

Bridget’s right hand hung suspended in the air above the door handle, her body twisted halfway toward the opening and one foot dangling above the pavement. She wasn’t sure she wanted to be alone with Les yet. Especially while Clara and Matty wandered off to have god only knew what kind of kinky sex for the next few hours. Drunk or not, at least they had been in the car with her to act as a deterrent for any creepy behavior. In the end, she withdrew her foot and pulled the door shut again.

“I guess that would be nice,” she said, lifting her breasts back into her lap again. “But you’d better not be trying to take advantage of me, mister.”

Les smiled and shook his head.

“I wouldn’t dream of it.”

They drove around the block a few times after that, talking and feeling out each others’ personalities. To Bridget’s surprise, they had a few more in common than she would have thought. For one, they were both decidedly former athletes. Les had suffered a catastrophic compound injury to several ligaments and the meniscus of his left knee during a football game. The high potential for repeat injuries to the same knee ended his career as a running back. Bridget felt for him. Losing that part of your identity was tough, as she knew from experience.

They also liked most of the same cheesy hair metal ballads, which they discovered following a brief and semi-serious disagreement about whether Bon Jovi sucked all the time or just most of the time; Bridget arguing for the former. They bonded over some of those songs, and Les revealed an unexpected talent for singing as he broke out his best Steve Perry impression for her amusement.

“Wow, you could be in a band,” Bridget laughed. “That was actually pretty good.”

“Nah,” Les grinned, shaking his head as they returned to the hotel parking lot. “I just do that one at karaoke sometimes. My sister is the real musician of the family. She can play just about anything and sings like a damn bird.”

“I’m serious, though. I think you’d be good at it,”

Les looked bashful at that. He coughed as he turned his head away and looked at an imaginary something.

Is he blushing? Bridget thought. I’ve never made a boy do that before.

“I think we should go up now,” Bridget said, trying to make her voice sound deeper and more alluring. “Don’t you think?”

Les coughed again and pulled into the first available parking space. He turned to her with something like panic in his eyes.

“Look, I know we don’t know each other very well, but would you swear to keep something secret if I told you in confidence?”

Bridget looked into his worried face and wondered what was going through his head.

Oh God, she thought. He’s gay.

No he’s not, chimed the other dry and serious voice in her head. Would he have a bunch of pictures of girls with giant tits on his computer if he was?

Maybe, she replied in a sort of mental mumble. Or maybe that was the kind of elaborate cover a closeted gay guy would prepare in case a friend put him in that position.

Have you ever known a boy to be that prepared?

“No.”

Bridget hadn’t meant to say it out loud. A look of fear passed over Les’s features before she shook her head and corrected herself.

“I mean yes. I never spread gossip. I know exactly how much it sucks when people do that.”

“Oh, yeah,” Les said with a rapid glance down at her cleavage. “I guess you would.”

“So…what is it?”

Les closed his eyes, leaned back in his seat and took a deep breath.

“I—” he began, clearing his throat and starting over. “I’m not—I mean—oh goddammit…”

“Calm down,” she said, putting a hand on his shoulder. “Just take your time. I’m listening.”

She wasn’t sure what had him so riled up, but she was starting to feel nervous again.

He couldn’t possibly be—

“I’m a virgin…”

His voice was low and weak, like a whine from a small and injured animal. Bridget heard it all the same and, rather than running her mood, she brightened at the unexpected news.

“That’s nothing to be ashamed of!” She told him. “To be honest, so am I. I’ve never really been alone with anyone of the opposite sex before, for that matter.”

It was Les’ turn to look surprised.

“A girl like you? Seriously?”

Bridget nodded.

“One hundred percent true,” she let out an involuntary sigh of relief before continuing. “Sorry if I’ve been a little guarded all night. I was worried a popular guy like you might just sweep me off my feet if I wasn’t careful. If we’re both out of our element, well, that makes me feel a lot better.”

Les stared at her and then burst out into an uneasy chuckle.

“That’s not the reaction I was expecting. I thought for sure a cool, experienced girl like you would laugh at me or something. You haven’t at least dated anyone before?”

“Nope,” Bridget said with a grin. “I’ve been kind of an outcast for a long time. Even before these—”

She lifted her breasts about an inch above her lap for emphasis.

“—I was a total tomboy and only had a couple friends. All boys.”

She didn’t bother to explain about her best friend, though. That ship had sailed and he didn’t need to know about how much it hurt to talk about Aidan these days. Then she noticed Les had been focused on her chest since her little maneuver and realized her mistake.

“Um, can I ask you something?”

“Huh?”

Les raised his eyes from her boobs to her eyes. There was still a dopey expression on his face as he tried to kickstart his brain again.

“Matty told Clara about your, uh, type. Is it true? Do you really like girls built like me?”

Les’s brain seemed to sputter to life then. A look of horror that surpassed even his earlier panic spread over his face.

“He told her? That dick!”

“He was just trying to help her hook us up,” Bridget blurted out, hoping to soothe his sudden rage. “She probably nagged him into it. She’s been dead set on finding someone for me since last summer.”

Les didn’t look too convinced, but he let out a steadying breath and hung his head.

“I guess the cat’s out of the bag,” he mumbled. “Yeah. I have a…thing...”

He raised his head and forced himself to make eye contact with her.

“But that isn’t the only reason I’m here. I wanted to get to know you. And I think you’re really cute, and funny…”

He trailed off, losing confidence in his words as he went, and Bridget had to bite her lip to keep her eyes from going misty. Here was a guy who wanted to get to know her, was attracted to her, and complimented her when she needed it. In the hour she had known him, he had already shown twenty times the emotional intelligence of most men she knew. Maybe hundreds of times, in a particular guy’s case.

The image of Aidan surrounded by girls at the dance flashed in her mind. It made her temper flare all over again, which always made her more impulsive.

“I’ll tell you what,” Bridget said, with a sly grin. “If you can swear you’re eighteen, we can go up to the room and see about cashing in that V-card of yours.”

She grabbed his hand and squeezed it. If she had been honest with herself she might have recognized that she was just looking for a way to get even with Aidan. She didn’t care if she lost her virginity that night or not. Everyone’s obsession with who had and hadn’t gotten laid was always a little creepy to her. She wasn’t even sure Les was who he said he was. He was cute, though, and she had felt a few sparks during their earlier conversation.

“To tell another secret I’m nineteen,” he said with an embarrassed shrug and a grin. “I was held back a year in kindergarten. Couldn’t write my name in cursive the first time around, and they don’t even teach it anymore. How unfair is that?”

Bridget giggled and squeezed his hand again.

“So unfair. Let’s just go up and see what happens, huh?”

● ● ●

What happened was predictable, of course. Once he’d knocked hard enough to bring a grinning and half-naked Matty to the door, Les retrieved their keycard and led Bridget to their own room next door. The lock disengaged with a beep and a mechanical whirring sound as he waved the card over the sensor and held the door open for her.

Bridget entered a small vestibule. She saw a bathroom with a huge jacuzzi tub on the right and a sitting area connected to Clara and Matty’s room on the left. A door straight ahead opened on the bedroom, dominated by the king size bed against one wall. A massive TV mounted to the opposite wall flashed a welcome message. A flowing script reading “Welcome, Bridget and Les” appeared letter by letter, as if written by an invisible hand, over a bouquet of roses that dropped an infinite number of petals onto a pool of crystalline water. There was even an ice bucket and two champagne flutes on a small table at the foot of the bed.

“This is crazy.”

Bridget walked by Les, who was still holding the door. She lifted the bottle out of the ice, careful to avoid dripping the frigid water down the front of her dress as she read the label.

“I’ve never stayed in a place this nice before.”

She had expected something nonalcoholic. Sparkling grape juice,or something like that, but it was real champagne.

“And how did you get them to give us booze?”

“My uncle is the district manager for the chain. He pulled some strings so I could, um, let’s say ‘impress’ you.”

Bridget turned around and found Les standing in the doorway with an embarrassed expression on his face. He was avoiding eye contact with her. She smiled and sat down on the bed. The mattress was nothing like the memory foam one at home, and she sank down much further than expected. She bounced up and down on the springs and her boobs went wild. It was sheer dumb luck that prevented a total wardrobe malfunction. Giggling and blushing, she pulled her dress up and got herself under control as Les did his best not to stare at her. Even so, the strain on his face was obvious.

“Um, do you want me to open the bottle?” He asked, busying himself at the drink table.

“I guess,” Bridget said, feeling more awkward than ever.

She had never been alone with a guy like this before. She never would have dreamed she would be in such an intimate setting with one she hardly knew. This was much more Clara’s style.

So why shouldn’t I loosen up and act a little more like her? She has fun all the time.

She went over all the lessons Clara had given her about self-confidence. The advice about using her body to her advantage sprang to mind first. She looked down and her breasts formed a long line of cleavage. Her dress revealed plenty of soft bountiful flesh. She had plenty of body to use. It was a little too much, in her opinion, but guys loved this kind of thing.

Right?

As if on cue, Les answered her mental query.

“You look good. Like, really good.”

His clumsy compliment made her own attempts at sensual confidence falter. She wasn’t used to such open appreciation from men. Clara complimenting her while pretending to be a guy wasn’t the same. It had been terrible and ineffective practice, as it turned out. She was floundering.

“Should we…sit down and listen to some music for a little while?” Les asked. “We don’t have to do anything you don’t want to.”

For whatever reason, that phrase triggered something in Bridget. She redoubled her efforts and shook her head. She had to stop letting her anxious nature ruin her fun.

“I want to,” she said with more determination in her voice.

She stood up so fast her tits bounced and jiggled free of their confines again. Her dress sank a bit lower and the rosy edge of her right nipple was exposed. She forced herself to leave it alone and side toward Les.

“I want to,” she said again.

It was as much for her own benefit as his. She had to convince herself to go through with it. She would never be the fun, carefree girl of her fantasies if she didn’t cross this barrier sooner or later. Steeling herself, Bridget rushed forward and wrapped her arms around Les. Her breasts squashed almost painfully against his thin, muscular body. Guys were a lot firmer than girls. At least athletic guys like Les were.

Focus!

She tilted her head back. It was awkward, but she forced herself to look into his eyes. She met his ice blue gaze and they connected. Actually connected on a very real and human level. Their instincts synced up into lockstep with one another. Les wrapped his arms around her. Their lips parted as they stretched their necks out toward each other. Then they were one.

Les kissed her. He was gentle at first, and Bridget appreciated the way he took it easy on her, but she soon wanted more. She gripped him tighter, moaning, and he took her meaning and pushed his tongue forward. It was a slow, tentative thing at first, but he grew more confident in no time at all. He moved his hand to the small of her back and pushed further, forcing her to bend back into a half-dipped position. His tongue stretched forward and she submitted to his whims.

Bridget was aroused beyond anything she ever could have dreamed. Her nipples were like pebbles beneath her dress, and she felt an intense thrumming between her legs. She had enough experience with her toys to know she was wet and ready. Les broke away to catch his breath and they both panted as they held each other. Bridget could hardly believe her first kiss had been so perfect and intense. She knew there was no way she could back out now. They were doing this.

“Did you bring condoms?” She asked.

She surprised herself as she said it, but excitement granted her careless confidence. Les felt as if he were trembling against her for an instant and then she realized he was laughing.

“What did I say?” Bridget groaned, her newfound ego already deflating.

“Sorry, it’s not you,” he said, releasing her so he could reach for a nightstand and pull the drawer open. “My uncle told me he’d stock me up when I asked him for the rooms. He knew what was up. He said he’d tell my dad what I was up to if I didn’t use them.”

The drawer was full of at least four different brands in half a dozen styles. She saw flavored ones, ribbed ones, and warming ones. Some were labeled “intimate” or “twisted”, while others read “intense.” Les reached in and grabbed a handful, then turned back to her.

“Do you have a preference?”

Bridget turned pink again and giggled as she adjusted her dress.

“I don’t know…”

She wasn’t telling the whole truth, but wanted to surprise him. Clara had educated her on a few things where condoms were concerned. She even showed her a few tricks to impress her future conquests. She spotted a pale pink wrapper among the black and gold and pinched it between her thumb and forefinger. She shook it a few times and put one corner between her teeth, ripping the package open like a pro.

“Take off your pants,” she told Les, hoping she sounded more self-assured than she felt.

His hands shot to his belt and he had his waistband open in an instant. His pants dropped to his ankles and he slipped his shoes and socks off, leaving him standing in his boxers.

“Underwear, too.”

While he bent down, Bridget stuck the strawberry flavored rubber in her mouth. She sucked it in enough to unfurl it about a quarter of the way and held her lips in an “O” the way Clara had taught her. They’d done drills with a dildo until she could put the condom on with her mouth in one go. Bridget hoped she could still manage it with the genuine article. When Les finally let his boxers fall with a nervous sigh, she had already dropped to her knees. Face to face with an erect penis for the first time in her life, she looked it over for a moment.

It wasn’t all that intimidating. Les wasn’t small by any stretch, but even a “big” cock wasn’t so bad. Her tits could make anything seem small by comparison.

Clara lied! She thought. I knew that dildo she made me deepthroat was above average.

Feeling more confident than ever, Bridget grabbed Les by the hips and put her lips around the tip of his cock. Breathing in through her nose, she let it out slowly as she worked her way down his shaft. The condom slipped around it even as it pressed further into her throat. The sweet artificial strawberry flavor coated her tongue as she worked it in and out to massage his cock. After Clara’s lessons, sucking dick was easy. Les moaned and put his hands on Bridget’s shoulders to steady himself. She had three quarters of his length in her mouth, and thought she could manage the rest without gagging.

“I thought you said you’ve never done this kind of thing before,” Les moaned. “How are you so good at this?”

Even through her mouthful of cock, Bridget’s lips curled into a satisfied smile. She drove her head forward and loosened her grip to leave the condom behind as she took a deep breath. Les gasped and gripped her shoulders tighter as his body shook with pleasure. He obviously wanted more.

“I watched some tutorials,” Bridget giggled. “Wasn’t sure I could pull it off, though.”

“Can you do that some more? Or do you want to—”

Bridget cut him off by wrapping her lips around his shaft again and bobbing her head back and forth. He drew in a sharp breath and groaned with satisfaction as his hips started to buck. She grunted with effort and had to fight back the urge to retch a few times, but thought she enjoyed the experience. It was nice to make someone feel that good, and it made her feel good to be the source of that pleasure in turn. She looked up at him and saw that he had thrown his head back, lost in total bliss. He let out soft, deep moans and she went on sucking him, full of self-satisfaction.

“S-stop,” he said, gripping her shoulders again. “Not yet. Don’t want to…c-cum already…”

Bridget relented. She didn’t want that either. If he was a virgin, his first orgasm might knock him out for good. Clara had warned her about letting a guy blow his load too early. She wanted to have some fun too.

“Can I see them?”

Bridget popped his dick out of her mouth, still looking up at him, and cocked her head to one side.

“Huh?”

“Your, uh, your boobs…” Les said, licking his lips again.

Bridget looked down at all the cleavage already on display and shrugged.

“I guess so,” she said with a shrug. “Help me up.”

She held her arms up and he grabbed her hands, lifting her back onto her feet. Turning around, she looked back over one shoulder at him.

“Can you get my zipper for me?”

Les gulped, then reached out and fumbled for the tiny zipper between her shoulder blades. He pulled it down and released the pressure on her chest. Bridget couldn’t stop the sigh of relief. Her massive tits fell into their natural position and decompressed for the first time in hours. They almost seemed to expand once the tight dress fell away, as if they needed the help.

She stepped out of it, completely topless, and spun in place before thrusting her chest out at Les. His jaw dropped open as he took in the sight of her breasts in all their naked glory. He expected them to sag more, but they were firm and shapely as a much smaller woman’s might have been.

“Y-You can touch them if you want.”

Bridget lowered her voice in an attempt at a sultry coo. She hoped the nervous stammering didn’t spoil the effect. Les didn't seem to notice or care, and his hands stretched out to caress her tits, which he had to take on one at a time. He slid his hands over her skin, feeling out her curves until the underside of her right breast rested in his palms. It overflowed his hands many times over, but he gently lifted it, stunned by its weight and pillowy softness as his fingers sank into her flesh.

It was the first time anyone other than a doctor examining her had touched her like this, and it felt amazing. Her nipples hardened again, as long as the last joint on her thumb and twice as thick. Les’s left hand moved to the front of her breast and he latched onto it. He pinched it, and a thrill of pleasure shot up Bridget’s spine. She let out a low groan of bittersweet frustration and looked up at him with a new fire in her eyes.

“I need you to stop teasing me and do something,” she purred.

“Then lose the panties,” Les whispered back.

He sounded more dominant and demanding, and Bridget liked it. Drunk on a flood of hormones more powerful than any drug, she felt confident enough to try something sexy. She pulled away from his grasp and turned around. Les began to protest, but stopped when she bent over to rest her chest on the mattress and wiggle her ass at him. From this angle he could see how curvy the rest of her was. Her waistline had a well-defined taper to it and she had a nice little bubble butt on her. Even without the giant tits she was still pretty hot.

“Why don’t you do the honors?” She asked, smirking back at him over one shoulder.

Les grabbed her by the waist and pressed his crotch into her soft cheeks. She let out a soft squeak that turned into a yelp as he yanked her panties down to her mid-thighs in one motion. She gasped when the cool air hit her soaking wet lips and felt her last shred of clothing slide down her legs. It settled around her ankles, and she stepped out of them to stand naked in front of a man for the first time in her life.

It felt good. She felt wanted. Useful. Desired. The guilt and anxiety that had plagued her since she became little more than a physical, emotional, and financial burden on her friends and family faded away completely. All that mattered was the imminent sex, and she wanted it now more than ever.

Something hot and hard slid between her thighs and over her pussy. It sent a jolt of electricity through her body and the warm glow at her center grew from a spark to a roaring flame. There was a penis touching her. A real flesh and blood cock. She thought she was beginning to see why Clara had become so obsessed with them. She started panting and the sounds of her high, shallow breathing filled the air.

Les thrust back and forth a few times, coating his shaft with her juices. He gripped her hips, widened his stance, and then lined himself up in such expert fashion that Bridget might have thought twice about his supposed virginity if she’d been capable of lucid thought. As it was, she let out a surprised squeak as she felt the tip of his cock push its way into her. She spread her legs out of instinct, but her inexperienced sex squeezed tight and stopped his progress. He pulled back and advanced again. This time he managed to get about half of his total length inside her.

Bridget moaned and whimpered. It felt good, but there was a half painful stretching sensation as well. It wasn’t quite as fun as she had expected it to be.

“Hold on,” she gasped. “It doesn’t feel right.”

“You’re new to this,” Les almost whined. “You need to let me work you out a little. It’ll feel great in a minute.”

His voice had taken on a new and unattractive wheedling tone. The hormonal mist around Bridget’s brain thinned out and she found herself fitting previously ignored pieces together before she could stop herself.

“I said wait,” she snapped.

She started to pull herself forward on the mattress and tried to twist around to face him. He still had her by the hips, though, and she only made it a few inches. With minimal effort, he stopped her from twisting around and grabbed her by the wrists. Then he forced her to lay flat on the bed and pinned her down with his dead weight. He was a tall, strong, athletic guy, and she was a soft, semi-disabled girl who hadn’t so much as jogged in two years. The illusion of her power evaporated as she felt the scales tip firmly in his favor.

She wasn’t a goddess. He didn’t see her willingness to spend the night with him as a gift. She was a sacrifice to his ego. A conquest. A plaything he had earned through his cunning and charisma. She was the object of his desire, yes, but only that. An object.

“You lied to me…” She said, choking as her eyes filled with tears. “How many girls have you lured in with the wounded puppy act?”

“Oh, not that many,” he crooned, leaning over her. “Most of the girls I’ve been with were a little smarter than that. You’ve got the makings of a real slut, you know?”

His voice was cruel and vicious, and Bridget couldn’t believe how stupid she was. How could Clara have vouched for this guy? They couldn’t have known he was some kind of psychotic date rapist.

“Please don’t do this,” she wailed. “Clara and M—”

“Clara and Matty are in the other room!” Les finished in a high-pitched, nasal mockery of her voice. “Did you not see how wasted they were, dipshit? They’ll be too busy fucking each other's brains out. Even if they do hear you they’ll think the little virgin is having a hell of a time getting her cherry popped.”

“Why?” Bridget asked, her voice cracked and weak. “You were going to get what you wanted either way. You didn’t have to ruin everything…”

Les laughed and shook his head.

“Fucking women!” He scoffed. “You’re the one acting like a fucking tease. I was getting you good and ready, hadn’t even started fucking for real, and you still tried to blueball me. You’re literally made to get fucked and you were acting like it hurt.”

Bridget couldn’t believe it. He was a full-on Bundy-style predator and she had fallen right into his trap. How many girls had he treated this way? How were there not a million rumors swirling about this guy?

Because his family is rich. Because the girls felt ashamed and powerless.

“Honestly, though, when Matt told me his booty call had a friend with giant tits I knew I had to give you a try.”

Booty call?

“Clara and Matty have been dating for years,” she growled.

She felt a rush of defiance as she came to her friend’s defense. She started trying to pull her arms free.

“He’s not—stop!”

He jerked her wrists against her lower back with one hand and spanked her as hard as he could. It was painful and humiliating, and tears welled up in her eyes again. She tried to get her arms under herself and roll over, but he was too fast and she wasn’t strong enough. He grabbed her arms and yanked them out to her sides again before pinning her down.

“Seven years of wrestling and jiu jitsu,” Les boasted. “You’re not gonna make it, so shut the fuck up and relax. You’ll be begging me for more in a minute.”

He pulled her left arm into a hammerlock and held it there, then put enough pressure on her shoulder to make it uncomfortable, but short of painful. She felt his other hand released her wrist, but she couldn’t move without pain shooting through her back. Then she felt him lining himself up to force himself on her. She let out a piercing scream of rage and desperation. There was nothing else she could do.

At the same time the bedroom door crashed open and Bridget heard a masculine voice let out a nonverbal roar. Another joined it, this one high and feminine, and the pressure on her shoulder abated as Les rolled off of her. She heard the sounds of a struggle and blows landing before she managed to roll over to see what was going on.

It was Aidan.

Somehow he had shown up out of nowhere and was fighting Les with every ounce of strength he had. They were rolling around on the floor while Clara hovered over them, naked apart from a g-string. She was wielding something shiny and green, looking for a chance to strike. When Les rolled over and tried to force Aidan into some sort of hold, she took her shot and brought the full champagne bottle down on his head. There was a crack and an explosive shattering sound, and then liquid sprayed all over the room. Les fell over, completely unconscious, and Matty stumbled into the room, pulling on a pair of jeans. Aidan scrambled to his feet and looked down at Bridget through bloodshot eyes. She was trying to force her trembling hands to pull the bedclothes over her body.

“I’m so fucking sorry, Bridge.”

● ● ●

Clara called the police and front desk to explain the situation, but when the cops showed up with a team of EMTs she had to tell them the whole story anyway.  The lone female officer sat next to Bridget and told her how things would be going forward while a few of  the EMTs loaded Les into an ambulance. She said Les was hurt, but she would see to it that he suffered the consequences of what he had done once he recovered. Bridget remained stoic through it all. She was too upset and confused to take it all in. And she still had no idea where Aidan could have come from.

The police insisted the other crew needed to sneak Bridget out of the back to shuttle her off. They said it was for her benefit, but she assumed it was to avoid a scene in such a fancy hotel. Clara was sober enough to pick up on what they were trying to do and let them know about it. Matty was drunk enough to support her, and to be extra loud about it, so a few cops tossed them into a cruiser. They assured Bridget and Aidan that they weren’t under arrest, but they needed to be escorted back home.

The one mercy was that Bridget was eighteen and they weren’t obliged to call her parents unless she asked them to. It hadn’t gone quite all the way. Although things had gone much too far, Aidan and Clara had saved her from the worst possible outcome.

Aidan, of all people. He had shown up in the nick of time and fought to protect her. She thought he was moving on, but he had cared enough to track her down to a fancy hotel an hour from home. But she didn’t understand how he knew where she was, let alone why or how he had found the right room.

Once the police and doctors had cleared her to leave, she met Aidan in the hospital lobby. It was a tearful reunion. Somehow, despite what had happened—and what had almost happened—she felt better than she had in a long time. Once they got into his car and started driving she couldn’t keep the tears of relief from falling. Aidan was with her again. They were talking again.

“How did you find us?” Bridget hiccuped once the worst of her sobbing had subsided. “No one else knew where we were going.”

“Jenna,” Aidan sighed. “She knew enough to help me figure out what was going on.”

“But why were you even looking for us? Why did you leave the party?”

“Gale Fleming, got to the dance late and saw you guys leaving with Les. He used to live with his dad in Wallis Island and he knew him. He said he never knew if it was true or not, but there were rumors about him being a freak as far back as middle school. He never got caught and none of the girls he abused ever spoke up. Gale said he thought his dad is a judge or something like that.”

“Well they’ll have to do something about him now, right?”

Aidan sighed and hung his head for a moment before returning his eyes to the road.

“I don’t know, Bridge. I hope so, but people like that always seem to get off way too easy. At best he’ll do about six months in some fancy prison and get right back to his old shit.”

They rode in tense silence for a while. It took several more miles for Bridget to work up the courage to say anything else.

“Thanks for looking out for me…”

Her voice was tiny, broken, and on the verge of fresh tears. Aidan went stiff, but didn’t say anything. He seemed to have some sort of internal debate with himself, then pulled over and parked on the shoulder. Then he twisted in his seat and looked her in the eyes. She couldn’t remember the last time a guy had done that. Fifth or sixth grade seemed about right.

“I’ve been a fucking dumbass,” he said, voice breaking as he swore.

Bridget hadn’t expected that at all. She’d expected him to shout at her for being stupid enough to go into a hotel room with a guy she had only met an hour before. She supposed she would have deserved it, too.

“Clara called me while you were in the exam room. I never could figure you out, but I should have tried harder. We could have both avoided a lot of stupid drama if I hadn’t been so thick.”

His voice was an angry growl, but the rage wasn’t directed at her. It was all turned inward.

“I know you’ve had a tough time since middle school, but I never quite got how bad it was for you. The older we got the more I started to think you didn’t want me around. Once I started playing baseball I thought I could impress you, but you didn’t seem to think it was all that great. I got kind of depressed about it and decided it would be best to stop bothering you. Some of my friends convinced me that Eva—”

Bridget winced and shook her head, letting out a soft squeak of irritation.

“Please,” she whimpered. “Can we not talk about her right now?”

Aidan growled and hung his head again. He ran his hand through his hair and looked up at her again.

“They told me I should get over you and go out with someone else and I was dumb enough to listen. But it was fucking miserable, Bridge! She was such a goddamn…”

He looked like he had found the word he wanted to use but was also unsure if he should. Bridget decided to help him out, for old time’s sake.

“Cunt?” She said, with a weak laugh.

“Cunt!” Aidan roared. “Thank you!”

He saw her tearful smile and couldn’t stop himself from letting out a small, relieved laugh of his own. It died in his throat and she let out a choking sob and covered his eyes in shame.

“It was the worst, though. I knew I had fucked up within the first week, but I couldn’t figure out how to get out of it without causing a huge scene. She got so fucking mad at that game, and I wanted to tell you that I was going to break up with her, but then I put my foot in it and pissed you off…”

Bridget went red. She remembered how angry she had been that day. She hadn’t even let him finish talking. Had he been trying to explain that he was going to break up with Eva?

“I didn’t know…” She said, tearing up all over again.

“Oh, god, please don’t cry,” Aidan pleaded with her. “I wasn’t trying to upset you again.”

“I’m relieved stupid…” She sobbed.

Aidan stared at her, awestruck.

“You are?”

“Yes, you moron!” She said, springing upright and pushing him hard enough to force him back against the door panel. “All this time I thought you were trying to get back at me for something and it turns out you’re clueless. Like every other man on earth, I guess.”

She wiped her eyes with her fingers, smearing her already ruined makeup even further. Smiling through her tears, she grabbed his hand and held it.

“What do you want now, Aidan?” She asked him. “No stupid games. No trick questions. I just want you to tell me what you think about me.”

He went red and his usual effortless confidence waned in the face of her new direct approach. He straightened in his seat and stared out the windshield for a torturous length of time. Bridget remained silent. She was willing to give him all the time he needed.

“For now I just want to take you home,” he said without looking at her.

He put the car into drive and pulled back onto the highway. The tension between them had relaxed, but Bridget had to force herself not to burst into tears again. How many times did she have to throw herself at him before he saw her as something more than a childhood friend? Was it too weird for him? Like dating his sister?

“Oh…okay…”

“And I want to have breakfast and a long talk in the morning, okay?”

She saw a small ray of hope on her horizon. Talk was good, but she had to play it cool.

“Alright.”

“I love you, Bridget,” he finally blurted out.

It was slow, choppy, and nearly inarticulate, but also the sweetest thing she had ever heard him say.

“I always have, but I never knew how to deal with it. I thought you saw me as more of a brother or something…”

Bridget started laughing. She couldn’t help it. It was all so stupid.

“What?” Aidan asked, sounding offended. “What did I say?”

“Nothing,” she reassured him.

She doubled over as much as her breasts would allow to clutch at her heaving sides.

“It’s just that I thought the same thing about you.”

Aidan drove in insulted silence for a while. When he broke out into wild peals of laughter, Bridget knew things were going to be so much better going forward.

“We’re such fucking idiots!” He howled.

They laughed like that the rest of the way home.

● ● ●

Aidan escorted her up to her house and even opened the front door for her. As they walked into the dim entryway it almost felt like the last few traumatic hours had never happened. It felt like they were coming home after an ordinary evening of dancing and poor decisions. Bad things had happened, though, and Bridget wasn’t sure how to cope with it. Now that she was home, she almost wanted to keep it all secret from her family. But what would happen if the police decided to do something about it? Would they summon her to testify in court? And could she keep it from her parents if they did?

Probably not, she thought.

Fortunately, or not, she was saved any further worry as the lights flickered in the den to her left and bathed them both in the warm glow of artificial light. She went to the doorway and squinted through the sudden assault on her senses. She made out two dim shapes seated on the couch.

“Do you have any idea what time it is?” Her mother asked in a tone of voice that sounded both flat and tired.

“Um, almost midnight. Why are you two still up?”

“Your mother and I caught something on the evening news about an hour ago,” her dad said. “Something we never expected to see.”

A chill went down Bridget’s spine and her heart dropped into her stomach. So much adrenaline flooded her system that she thought she would be sick. Had someone already reported what happened at the hotel? She never saw any reporters wandering around.

“Why did you do it?” Her mom asked, standing up from the couch and spotting Aidan hovering behind her daughter.

She stood up from the couch and then spotted Aidan hovering behind her daughter. A look of surprise crossed her face before it returned to its previous hard expression.

“Oh, Aidan, I didn’t see you there. Did you give Bridget a ride home?”

“Yes, ma’am,” Aidan said. “We, um, sort of…made up, I guess…”

He trailed off, sensing the palpable tension in the room as well as anyone else. Bridget guessed his thoughts were going down similar avenues to her own.

“I’m glad to hear it,” Catherine said. “But could I ask you to head home for the night? Bridget’s father and I need to speak to her alone.”

Bridget flashed her most pitiful look at him, and he hesitated for a moment, but nodded to Catherine.

“Sure thing,” he said. “I’ll see you in the morning okay, Bridge?”

Her eyes welled up, but she knew he was right. Things would be much worse if he tried to argue. He knew her mom almost as well as she did.

“Yeah,” she said with a small hitch in her voice. “Tomorrow.”

“Thank you, Aidan,” her dad said. “For giving her a ride home.”

“No problem, Mr. Thomas,” Aidan said as he went out the door.

“Now,” Catherine said through clenched teeth. “I’m going to do my best not to lose my temper, but let me ask one more time: why did you do it?”

Bridget wasn’t sure what her mom was talking about, or what answer she was expecting. She decided to play dumb, at least until she could put together a few context clues.

“I don’t know what you want me to say,” she tried. “Dad, what is she talking about?”

“Don’t you try to appeal to your father,” Catherine said. “Don’t you dare try to go easy on her, Nick. She knows what she did.”

“I’m not sure she does,” Nick said with a sly look at his daughter. “What have you been up to since you turned eighteen, sweetheart?”

Bridget felt more confused than ever. Her heart was racing and she could feel the beginnings of a panic attack building within her. This wasn’t the kind of welcome she had expected. She didn’t even know why she was in trouble.

“Would you just tell me what you think I did?” She burst out, loud enough to wake her brother but too upset to care.

“Keep your voice down,” Catherine said. “And I don’t think anything. We both saw the proof with our own eyes. You called Dana Daniels.”

Bridget almost felt relieved. They didn’t know she had gone to Wallis Island. Unfortunately, that meant they had seen her interview. She hadn’t even known Dana was planning to air it already. A little heads up would have been nice.

“So what if I did?” Bridget shot back. “She wanted to tell people about girls like me. She’s trying to help them understand our condition and she wanted to put me in touch with someone who could help.”

“And all she wanted in return was to take advantage of a naive teenager with no clue how the real world works!”

Her mom’s voice was rising from a hiss to a soft, catlike snarl.

“I told you to stay away from her! I told you she was poison, didn’t I?”

“Cathy,” Nick said, stepping between his wife and daughter. “She’s a legal adult now. She can make her own choices.”

Catherine looked like she wanted to slap him, but restrained herself and settled for turning away in a huff. She headed for the kitchen, hissing back at her daughter as she went.

“You’ve done it now, Bridget,” she said. “You’re going to be up to your tits in tabloid journalists and ‘producers’ by tomorrow morning.”

“Mom…”

Bridget couldn’t believe what she was hearing. She’d never heard her mom speak so bluntly before or use expressions like that. She thought they were too vulgar.

“You should get to bed, sweetie,” Nick told her. “I’ll try to keep her calm and we’ll talk about this in the morning.”

She wanted to argue that she had nothing to be mad about in the first place, but she was too physically and emotionally exhausted to fight. Her mom had no clue what she had been through that night.

And she never will, Bridget told herself.

“Alright, daddy,” she said. “Thanks,”

“I’m glad you and Aidan seem to have patched things up,” he said. “He’s a good kid.”

“The best,” Bridget said with a tired smile before she headed for the stairs.

“Just to be clear, I don’t think your mother is entirely wrong about what you did,” Nick said. “You should have at least told us you were planning to do it.”

Bridget ignored that and stayed quiet as she walked upstairs. As the tears began to slide down her cheeks again she knew she wouldn’t be getting much sleep that night after all.