"Ash," he breathed, "We're getting dangerous here."
"No head?"
Something red flashed through his eyes, as the corners of his mouth tugged into a smile. "You're going to give me head, whether you like it or not. I meant that we can't turn back after...
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"Are you a heavy drinker, Ash?" Elle asked, her voice sounded muffled as she stuck her head far into the depths of my closet. All the pretty clothes I owned were still stacked there, without me ever looking at them again lately.
In Michigan, I had a job. A social status, too. A boyfriend who wanted to see sexy lingerie. Friends who expected something of me. All my clothes were cheap, sure, but they were better than this hellhole provided.
Sweaters and jeans for life!
"I was, but I haven't had a drop in two years."
"You mean to say you drank when you were fifteen?" Jesse's mouth hung open as I sighed and leaned back in my chair, my hands jammed deep into my pockets.
Sure, I liked going out, but this town was terrible. They'd only stare jealously at Jesse and Chase, or Elle's perfect perfectness, and I'd be awkwardly trying to get myself very drunk very fast to make the torture more endurable.
"That's why she's so bad at responding; all her brain cells are dead," Elle elaborated, as Jesse's shocked face made her laugh.
"Wait, Ashley, I went completely over my head before but..."
"Yes?" I pressed, staring at Jesse wiggling herself out of a dress of mine.
"Does that mean you, uh, performed the thing on your boyfriend's thing when you were fifteen, as well?"
She'd asked me for advice, after I came back from the pack house, about Chase and her. I'd felt like I had to vomit, picturing Chase's dick tainting my poor friend, but helped her as much as I could. I was regretting it now, though.
"Yes, I was giving him head. That's what all teenagers do when their young and impressionistic."
"Not only when they're young and impressionistic," Elle remarked, waving a finger. "This light-blue one would suit you, Jesse, try it on!"
"But Ashley's boobs are way bigger than mine, they all just won't fit!"
My gaze lowered to my boobs as my hands pressed against them to flatten 'm against my chest. I loved my boobs, even though the left one was way tinier than the left. And when the nipples got hard, they were way too long. But I never cared much for body-shaming.
They were soft and squishy, and fun to play with. That I liked.
"What're you wearing, Ashley?" Elle asked, holding a sundress over her naked figure and pouting in the mirror.
I, of course, was thinking of the only pair of jeans I still fitted and were without deliberately bleach-washed rips, and a black shirt I thrifted, with a Metallica-print on it. Not that I listened to Metallica, but it was a perfect rich, spoiled and pretty kids-deterrent.
But I had a hunch Elle wouldn't take delight in that answer.
