Allison dreamed hail fell from the sky. She could hear it against the glass like one person slowly applauding. Clap. Clap, clap. Good job. The weather didn't seem to be sarcastic.
She turned over and sniffled a sinus thing. The hail noise woke her up. It was real.
The pane was cool to her hand. Below on the lawn she could see a figure. She lifted the window. "David?"
"Come down," he called softly.
She waved her assent and turned away, not thinking to close the window. Her dad was sleeping (she hoped) in his room, across and down the hall. After a moment's hasty consideration, she picked up her sneakers and padded down the stairs in her bare feet. One step creaked. She held her breath and hastened on.
David was near the front door. The shape of his body was blurred by the evergreen bush.
"What are you doing here?"
"I couldn't sleep. Come out." His bicycle made tick-tick-tick noises as the wheels reeled around.
"Uhm. Just a second." Her hair -- she dragged her fingers through it and found a clip to pin it back.
She pressed a kiss of greeting to his mouth. "What's up?"
"Just hoping you would come for a walk with me." He parked his bike between the house and its hedges.
Under the whispering rush of maples, they walked down the quiet Midwestern street, holding hands.
"Are you okay? It's almost midnight, you know."
"Yeah ... I don't know. I've been thinking."
"What about?" Their voices were quiet, as if by unspoken agreement to avoid waking the neighbors. Or, maybe, the still of the night required no volume. Not even a single car rushed past their surreal stroll.
"A lot of things. Allie, something's bothering me." He paused and turned, laying his hands to her waist. She thought at first he was going to kiss her, but he spoke: "I think Mr. Olaffsen is sleeping with Hillary."
"No! No, no, no. He'd never give in to her. He's honourable. Remember when he came to the house, and told us about doing the right thing?"
"Yeah, and remember that time in the music room about looking's free, touching costs."
"We've been through that," she said impatiently.
"I'm not talking about you. I'm talking about them. I know it's none of my business, but it bugs me."
Her eyebrows lifted. She gestured at the park they were passing. "Let's sit down, you can tell me about it."
They dangled on the park swings. He described his observation: the way the couple looked at each other, or more precisely, studiously ignored one another. "I feel it. There's something between them."
"Well, if it is true, it's almost graduation. It won't count anymore after that."
"It still isn't right."
"Maybe so, but how does it hurt us? Or anybody? They're consenting adults."
David considered. "Yeah, maybe." Then he quirked a grin at her. "You know, I had an ulterior motive for asking you here tonight."
"Oh yeah, what was that?" She liked seeing his mood brighten.
David slipped off of his swing and faced her, grasping the vertical chains. He leaned forward, so his lips were next to her ear. "Something to do with fondly hoping you'd come out in your nightgown like this."
In the darkness, she smiled. "Ye-e-e-e-es. What about it?"
He walked forward, pushing her swing backwards. His hands teased the hem of the simple knit, lifting it to her thighs. "I think you know."
Allison parted her limbs a little. With her elbows crooked around the chains, she caressed his mildly sweaty t-shirt. The scent of him curled up into her nose, earthy and warm, like a happy cat curling in sunlight. "What if I also had on no underwear?"
"You're wicked, you know that?"
Allie wiggled her eyebrows at him and quoted Mr. Joel. "'I'd rather laugh with the sinners than cry with the saints.'" Her naked knees delighted in skimming around his jeans.
He threw back his head and laughed. "'The sinners are much more fun.'"
"Come here, baby."
They kissed and groped, each hoping the cops wouldn't drive by and tell them to go home. Yet it was an undeniable thrill, fooling around outdoors, in public, under the scant cover of darkness. David teased an index finger around her nipples, watching the bumps pop out through the blue knit of her nightdress.
Allison was wet. Her juices oozed around Dave's inquisitive fingers, sending him an unmistakable fuck-me-now signal. He made happy noises of lust, alternating between sounds like mmmmm and oh, baby, and telling her how hot and gorgeous she was. Her joy was luxurious as southern peach pie, all creamy and sweet.
"Don't stop, Gorgeous." Daring him with her eyes, she reached for his zipper.
His answer was just as sultry. "You think I won't? Scoot forward."
Allie grinned and shifted her pelvic bone. What a blast! She wrapped herself around him, slightly unsteady on the swing, letting him be the pole. His penetration was an easy glide, thanks to her sopping arousal. Dave planted his feet and grabbed the flat plastic seat. All he had to do was push the swing away and back. Neither of them could stop smiling. They tossed lust-words and groans back and forth, playing catch, playing pickle.
"Oh, god!" he choked out suddenly, and pushed back hard. His cum unfurled all over her dark blue dress. Involuntarily Allison arched her back, almost tumbling from her perch. They clung to one another as he pulsed, her heels digging into his butt, as much from passion as the need for stability.
Sighing, they held on, riding the ride to its complete stop. The warm glow in her eyes matched his. They held still for a moment, panting like a couple of steaming racehorses.
"That was great," she giggled. "You quiet band geek, you."
She hugged him and pressed her ear to his chest, hearing his increasingly familiar heartbeat. His embrace was toasty and snug. "It's late. We ought to be getting back." A gentle smile accompanied her admonishment.
"Yeah, let's go."
They straightened up their clothes and turned back toward her home. Their silence was comfortable. Tick-ticking the bicycle away from her door, he said, "Thanks for coming with me." Then he caught his own pun and laughed, "I mean, thanks for being with me." He sombered. "Thanks for listening."
"You're welcome. Get some sleep. I'll see you tomorrow." Her smile was tender. She kissed him good-night, and they said their I-love-you's. Allison closed the door.
* * *
Jacob Olaffsen was engaged in the familiar ritual of cleaning out his office. He wasn't a religious man, but the methodical task brought him a certain peace. Every year it was the same: archive the records of graduating seniors, toss the oldest files he no longer had room for.
This year the task depressed him. One senior in particular would have to be let go. Mentally he cradled her in a warm embrace. Forgive me, Hillary. I'm only human. And a damned flawed one at that.
As if his thoughts conjured her up, the young lady bounced brightly into his office.
"Hillary." He blinked and remembered to be professional. "Miss Fairchild."
"Mr. Olaffsen." She shut the door and leaned to kiss his crewcut. The resulting cold confused her.
"Miss Fairchild, this is an office." He didn't even touch her to push her away.
"Yes, but — graduation is next week! It won't matter. We can be together, now." An undercurrent of fear tugged at her hope.
Olaffsen put down the files and looked her in the eye. "I'm sorry, Hill."
"NO!" Instantly she knew what he was saying. Big fat teardrops burst from her eyes. "No, Jacob, don't. I love you."
"I'm so sorry," he whispered. His own throat constricted as he looked at the sobbing girl. "I'd love you if I could. Hillary, look at me."
She obeyed him. She never wanted anything more than to obey him. To her further confusion he pulled out a calculator.
"Hillary, will you pay attention, please?"
"You don't have to prove it to me. I know there's a difference in our ages." She hiccoughed and continued to weep.
"Please listen. Hillary, look. Where were you in 1970?"
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