[crashwhips]

Fantasies of Jessica Fazer

I feel uncomfortable at the party right from the beginning, and the ten or so hits I take off a joint and the six beers I drain in succession don't succeed in putting me at ease. These people are not my crowd. They're the popular kids, the tough, cool guys and the wild, pretty girls. Everyone here is being nice enough to me, but I can tell by the way they glance at me that they view me as an intruder of sorts. When they look at me, a skinny, slightly awkward looking kid with glasses, I know what they're thinking: "What is he doing here?"

I'm not what you would call a loser, but I'm not cool either; I'm a nobody. The only reason I'm at this party in the first place is that my friend Steve Phillips, who is more popular than me, though not legitimately a member of the high school elite, the so-called "in-crowd", supplies much of our high school student body with top notch marijuana at a good price. Jake Romano, one of the high school elite, is one of Steve's best customers and a good friend, and the party is at his house. It is high-school hierarchy in action.

I arrive at the party at 9:30 with Steve. Jake greets us at the door, seeming glad enough to see us. I follow Steve as he walks around the house, and I murmur acknowledgement to anyone who notices me. I take a seat next to Steve at the kitchen table, and we pass around a joint with a few other guys. After we burn the spliff all the way down, Steve goes into the other room with a couple guys to talk to some girls. I don't want to seem like a tag-along, so I open the refrigerator and take a can of Budweiser from the case of beers. I go into the living room, lean against the wall, by myself, and chug the beer, watching the other partygoers enviously as they talk, joke, and laugh with one another. I get another beer from the kitchen, return to my spot at the wall, gulp the beer down, and do the same thing four more times.

I pitch my sixth empty beer can into the trash can. I go into the next room and push through the bathroom door to take a piss. Leaving the bathroom, I notice my dream girl, Jessica Fazer, lying alone on a tan leather couch in the small, adjacent sunroom.

I have been obsessed with Jessica since middle school. She is, in my opinion, the best looking girl in the school, the town, and maybe even the state. She has been in a number of my classes through the years, and I've spent the majority of my time in those classes staring at her. More often than not, I think of her when I jack off. Except to occasionally say hi when I pass her in the halls, I've never talked to her outside of class.

Right now though, I am stoned and drunk and not feeling very good about the solitary, lonely experience I have been having at the party, so I think to myself, "[censored] it," and approach her. "Hi, mind if I sit down?" I ask.

"Sure," she replies enthusiastically, sliding over. She appears to be quite drunk.

I already have a girlfriend of sorts, Mary Carroll, a kind, shy, plain girl. She's given me a handjob and let me finger her on more than one occasion, and I figure she'll let me go all the way any day now. As I look at Jessica, her shiny, flowing black hair, her utterly perfect, angelic face, I'm not thinking of Mary. Jessica is wearing no bra and her full, perky breasts look ready to pop out in a low cut shirt that exposes plentiful cleavage and the top of her right nipple. She is wearing tight jeans that hug her shapely hips and luscious legs. I gaze at her and feel a pleasant tingling as blood rushes to my crotch.

"So, how's it going?" I ask.

"I'm really drunk right now," she slurs.

"Oh."

"I know you, you're in my classes. Nick, right?"

"Yeah, that's me."

She studies me intently and smiles. "You're cute," she says.

"Thanks." The six cans of liquid courage are taking their effect, and I feel perfectly natural as I say, "You're the most prettiest girl in the school. I really like you."

"Aww, that's so sweet," she says, and she kisses me. It's wonderful, her soft, warm lips against mine, using tongue and not pulling away. She tastes like liquor, rum, but I don't mind. Her warm body and sumptuous breasts press against me. After a couple of minutes of pure bliss, a strong hand pulls at my shoulder, breaking our lip lock. I look up and see a big muscular guy. I recognize him as Tim Jones from school. He is a year above me, a senior, and he is a star on the football and baseball teams. I vaguely recall seeing him walking with Jessica a little while ago, holding her hand. My erection deflates.

"What the [censored] are you doing?" he says. "That's my girlfriend!"

"Sorry," I manage.

He lifts me to my feet and punches me in the face. He appears to be drunk, and his punch only grazes the side of my head. The blow still has enough force to make me stagger backwards. He pushes me, hard, and I slam into the wall, knocking a framed picture to the floor. I stay there up against the wall, motionless.

"You're lucky I don't knock all your teeth out, ya goddamn pussy," he says. A large group has gathered outside the doorway. "Yo Jake, who invited this [censored] [censored]?"

"Tim, chill," says Jake. "He didn't know she was your girlfriend."

Steve emerges from the crowd and approaches me. "Let's get out of here," he says, and we make a hasty exit.

"[censored] loser," says Tim as I pass by him.

"Damn man," says Steve when we're in his car, an old beat-up, rusted Buick sedan. "What were you thinking?"

"I didn't know she had a boyfriend."

"Shee-it, I thought everyone knew Tim and Jessica were going out."

"Not me. Hey, did I look like a huge pussy back there? Not fighting back and [censored]?"

"Eh. You did look like a deer caught in the headlights up against that wall. But I don't think anyone can blame you for not fighting back. If you did, he would've [censored] destroyed you."

I don't know how much Steve has had to drink, but the Buick is slowly but surely drifting over the center line. Headlights approach us from the other direction, and Steve steers too far to the right as the car passes by, bouncing us off a curb.

"Damn," he said, "I shouldn't be driving. Got a lot of weight on me too." He slows down and makes an effort to concentrate on the road.

"I don't see why you had to do that back there," Steve says after a couple of minutes of driving in silence. "I didn't want to leave. I was having some luck with Kristen Tarlow. I think I woulda got something from her."

"Sorry."

"Ah [censored], man, don't apologize, I'm just bein' an [censored]," he says, clapping me on the back. "You made out with Jessica Fazer. You're the [censored] man!"

In bed that night, I have grandiose delusions about Jessica. Inspired by our momentous kiss, she's going to leave Tim for me, I fantasize. If not that, she's going to start carrying on a clandestine affair with me. When I finally get to sleep, I dream vividly of her, of her kissing me, of her lying next to me, of her beneath me.

In school on Monday, I'm sitting at my desk in fifth period English when Jessica walks into the classroom, looking gorgeous in a flimsy black dress. She looks at me and smiles as she takes her seat across the room. I awkwardly smile back, nervously excited and my fantasies fueled. For the rest of the class, I can't concentrate on anything my English teacher is saying and I stare longingly at Jessica.

After class, Jessica comes up to me and says hi, and we walk out into the quad together.

"I heard about what happened at Jake's party," she says.

"You don't remember what happened?"

"No, I was totally trashed, my friends had to tell me the next day. I didn't know what I was doing. I can't believe I made out with you. I must've been really wasted."

"Yeah." The implication is clear: I never would have made out with you if I hadn't been black-out drunk.

"Anyways, I'm really sorry I got you into trouble with Tim."

"Don't worry about it."

"What the [censored] are you doing with my girlfriend again, [censored]?" says a voice behind us.

I turn around and see Tim Jones. "You just don't learn, do you, [censored]?" he says, pushing me. I stumble backwards. He spits on my face.

"Leave him alone, Tim," says Jessica.

I wipe the saliva off my cheek and glare at Tim.

"What are you gonna do, pussy?" he taunts. "What, you want me to beat your ass? You know you won't do [censored]. You won't. You won't! Pussy!"

There's an overflowing trash can next to me, and I grab an empty glass bottle from it. I rush at Tim with the bottle and slam it into the side of his head. The bottle makes a loud thud but doesn't break like I'd planned. Tim knocks the bottle of my hand and aims a punch at my head. I dodge it. I throw a right hand at him and miss. He hits me in the face, shattering and knocking off my glasses, and then slams his fist into my face three more times. I collapse to the cement. He mounts me and raises his fist to punch me in the face again, but someone pulls him off me.

I pick myself up from the ground. I'm in terrible pain and bleeding from my eyebrow and my mouth. A school administrator escorts me to the nurse's office. The nurse says I need stitches in my eyebrow, and I get driven to the hospital.

In the ER waiting room, I think dejectedly about how I made a fool of myself by fighting back against Tim, about how the best moment of my life was just a drunken mistake for Jessica, about how my desire for her and the other exceptionally beautiful girls at school is destined to be unrequited, about how the Tim Joneses of the world belong with the Jessica Fazers, while I belong with the Mary Carrolls.

I get twelve stitches in my eyebrow and I get suspended from school for a week. My parents tell me that they are disappointed me, but that since I'm practically an adult, they're not going to punish me.

Three days after the fight, I go over to Mary's house. We sit on the couch in the living room and talk. "Why did you get into that fight with Tim?" she asks me.

"He was just being an [censored] to me for no reason. He pushed me and spit on me, so I went after him."

"I heard it was over his girlfriend, Jessica Fazer. I heard you made out with her at a party last weekend." I don't say anything. "I'm not pretty enough for you?" She looks on the verge of tears.

"It's not like that at all. I thought we agreed not to be exclusive."

"I know, but you don't see me kissing other guys."

"Do you want to be exclusive?"

"Only if you want to."

"I do. I want you to be my girlfriend," I say, resigned to my lot in life.

"OK, boyfriend." She smiles at me. "Do you want to go to my room? My parents aren't home."

Once in her bedroom, we climb on top of her bed and start removing our clothes and kissing. After ten minutes of making out and groping, she asks if I have a condom. Feeling the same kind of nervous excitement that I did three days earlier when Jessica sauntered into class and smiled at me, I retrieve my pants from the floor and remove a Trojan from my wallet. She smiles and slides off her panties. I proceed to lose my virginity. It's good, rather brief but exquisite and exhilarating while it lasts. I must admit though, at one point while I'm on top of Mary, I'm imagining that Jessica Fazer is under me.