Chapter Fifteen

Havermouth High School, Five Years Before

Aislen waited outside of the headmaster’s office in the chairs deliberately positioned so that their occupiers were subject to the curiosity of passing students. A gauntlet of shame, moving up the queue gradually towards the office door as the principal addressed the misdemeanours of those higher ranked.

Except that she was the only occupant of the chairs, and the halls were empty but for the few stray students who had lingered behind due to after school commitments, or detentions.

Inside the office, her parents’ voices could be heard in rising and falling tones that were rendered meaningless by the wall and glass of the door. The glass warped their silhouettes as her mother rose to her feet, angry.

Aislen’s skin was cold, and she swallowed hard.

The voices within the office stilled and, a moment later, the door opened. The principal, Clive Owens, looked down at her. “Come in, Aislen,” he said, as if it were an invite and not a command.

Within the small space, two police officers, her parents, and the school counsellor, Ms. Grace, were crowded around the headmaster’s desk, and all four watched as Aislen entered.

Mr. Owens put his hand on Aislen’s back and she had a sudden vision of Ms. Grace bent over the desk whilst Mr. Owens smacked her arse.

“Come, sit with me,” Tiffany Carter patted the seat between her and the police officers, recalling Aislen to the present.

Aislen moved to take the seat because there was little other choice.

“The police would just like to ask some questions about the excursion today, Aislen." Mr. Owens said as he sat. "You aren’t in any trouble. Ms. Grace is here in case you want to talk to someone about what was no doubt a very traumatizing experience, and your parents are here to support you as your legal guardians.”

Tiffany took Aislen’s hand, wanting to appear like a good, supportive mother in front of all the officials present, but wishing the meeting over so that she could return home as her book club was on in half an hour, and the new member, Craig, was really good looking. (Probably gay, but… Is Aislen going to reply? Don’t just sit there…)

Aislen pulled herself into the present. “Very traumatic.”

“We’re sorry to have to make you relive it,” one of the police officers told her. “But the other gentlemen playing cards said that you and Mr. Boyston had an intense conversation just before he stroked. Could you tell us what was discussed?”

Aislen panicked. She couldn’t tell the truth… Or not all of it. “He was… inappropriate,” she said finally without meeting anyone’s eyes. “He was a dirty old man.”

“Did he touch you?” Tiffany was outraged. “Did he touch you, Aislen? Mr. Owens, I am horrified, absolutely horrified. This was a school excursion. My daughter should have been safe…”

“Mrs. Carter,” Mr. Owens said soothingly. “Let Aislen answer your question if you will. I assure you the school will treat this very seriously, very seriously indeed.”

“He took my hand and said something very rude,” Aislen told them. It wasn’t entirely a lie, she told herself. He had thought it, or at least, remembered it… “And I gripped his hand back and told him that dirty old men deserve to have their secrets told. Then he freaked out. I guess he stroked… I didn’t mean to kill him,” she added fighting back tears.

“No one is accusing you of killing him,” Ms. Grace said hastily. “Are they?” She looked at the police officers.

“Most definitely not,” the other police offer assured her. “There is nothing that Ms. Carter could have done to contribute to Mr. Boyston’s death by stroke.”

Aislen wasn’t as sure.

“It is possible that Mr. Boyston’s inappropriate words to Aislen were a symptom of the stroke?” Mr. Owen said slowly. “There was nothing prior according to the nursing home and his family to indicate any inclination to inappropriateness.”

Aislen tried not to let her skepticism show on her face. “So, are we done?” She asked. “I just… I want to be done with this now.”

“I’d like you to come see me on Monday,” Ms. Grace said to her, leaning forward and putting her hand on Aislen’s. (… wonder if he’s single?) She thought about the younger police officer.

Aislen shrugged her shoulders. “I have a full class schedule Monday.”

“Tuesday, or Wednesday then,” Ms Grace squeezed Aislen’s hand before releasing. “Please make time to see me.”

“Sure.”

“Mr. and Mrs. Carter, the school is very sorry about this experience, but, as I’m sure you can understand…”

“We understand,” Patrick Carter said standing, his sideways look silencing Tiffany’s start of a protest. “Old people are old and sick. These things happen. We are sorry about the old man’s death. Aislen will speak to the counsellor, and we’ll consider that the end of it. Come on, Tiff. It’s time to go. The police need to speak to them some more and we’re in the way.”

As the three Carters stepped out into the hallway and the door closed behind them, Tiffany rounded on Patrick. “Pat, we should have-”

“Tiff,” he said darkly. “This is a small town. People have been here for generations. You start trouble here, and it will affect my job. I want to move up with Zeus Forest Works, so we need to fit in and not cause waves. Aislen is fine. An old man died, that’s all that happened. When he died, his brain fritzed and he said something that he shouldn’t have, and because she’s your fucking daughter, she mouthed off in return. We should be grateful that she’s not in trouble for that. Just leave it now.”

“I left my bag in my locker,” Aislen said miserably. “I’ll go get it then walk home, okay?”

“Good idea,” Patrick replied tightly. “Stay out of trouble.”

“Yes, dad,” Aislen hurried down the hallway, glad to escape the escalating argument between her parents.

She headed through the mostly empty school to her locker and had just opened it when Rhett called her name. “Hi,” she smiled uncertainly.

He was alone. “Hey,” he said, opening his locker further down the row. “Are you okay?”

She shrugged. “I guess,” she pulled out her bag, slinging it over her shoulder before closing her locker. “It’s been a shit day.”

“Yeah,” he was empathetic as he put on his hip bag. “Give you a lift home?”

Normally she would have leapt at the offer, but she sighed. “I’m not in a hurry to get home. My parents are arguing.”

“I’m not in a rush. We’ll stop somewhere on the way, hey?” He put his arm around her shoulders, and she had a graphic image of them in the back seat of his car making out.

“Yeah, okay,” she decided. Why not? “Thanks.”

“We have to work on our portraits,” he said as they walked towards the student car park. “I’ll pick you up tomorrow morning? There’s this place,” he opened the boot and took her bag from her. “By the river. It’s beautiful. The perfect spot to spend the day painting.”

“Okay,” she agreed, with a rush of excitement. Spending the day painting with Rhett sounded perfect.

“Great,” he held the front passenger seat door open for her before going to the driver’s side. “I’m not in a hurry to go home either,” he admitted as he pulled out onto the street. “My mum’s girlfriend is over tonight. They pretend they’re just friends when I’m home, as if the entire town doesn’t know that they’re fucking.”

“I sometimes wonder if anyone has a happy home life,” Aislen admitted. “I mean, is there a single home where people are just… normal? Not arguing, fucking around on their partner, stealing from their work, beating their wife… Where are the families you see on TV, where they’re all happy and secure, and safe?”

“I guess Havermouth is not a normal type of town,” he said, pulling up in a car park tucked out of the way behind a dingy little pub. The car park was empty, except for them, and overlooked the river. It was the sort of tucked away spot that only the local teenagers knew about, and she wondered how many times the Triquetra had brought girls back there.

Rhett got out of the car and walked around to open her door. “Sit in back?” He said with uncomfortable casualness. “It’s more… you know,” he added. “Intimate.”

She got out and slid into the back seat with him, closing the door behind her. They looked at each other for a long moment and then he pulled her against him and kissed her. He groaned into her mouth as his hands stroked up her thighs, and she knew from the frantic, lust-crazed thoughts that flooded from him that he wanted to hook his fingers into her panties and pull them down… but was afraid that doing so would scare her off. (Was she a virgin? He’d bet she was, from how she reacted when…)

He teased her clit through the fabric, moulding it tightly to her, gradually laying her back onto the seat so that her legs were wrapped around his hips and his cock was pressed against her. His hand squeezed her breast through her top as he ground his cock into her. A few strokes like that and he wanted more… (come on her…)

“I won’t…” He panted into her ear. “If you let me take them off, I won’t… Not until…”

“Okay.”

She felt her panties break and him pull them to the side, and then he reached between them, freeing his cock. He pressed against her, sliding through her folds but not penetrating her, and the sensation of his soft skin around the rock-hard core of his erection pressed against her, his balls against her perineum, caused her to moan with pleasure.

“Yeah,” he ground the word out through his teeth. “Fuck, yeah.” He was thrusting with rhythm, his mind flooded with endorphins and pleasure, and she lifted her hips to increase the pressure for them both, feeling her body building towards orgasm as he neared his.

She came first, gripping him tightly to her, her breath catching in a gasp, and his groan was filthy, his hand reaching down between them to direct his cum over her. She felt the warm splash against her clit, and the run of it downwards. His fingers smeared it through and into her, as he had done in the alley of the art room.

“How many points is this?” She wondered, her heart racing in her chest.

“Stupid game - don’t let it upset you,” he said breathlessly. “And this is just for me, just because I want to.” He was telling the truth, she knew from his thoughts. He didn’t intend on telling the other two members of the Triquetra about this.

He leaned back slightly so that he could watch as he fucked her with his fingers, getting off on watching his cum enter her, already hardening again. He wanted to fuck her for real, imagining it in his mind in graphic detail, and for a moment, she was tempted to just do it…

“Will you…” He said softly.

“Yeah,” she agreed readily. He wanted her to suck him off.

“After…” he slid down until he could drag his tongue over her, and she gasped in pleasure, remembering the other night, and Heath sucking on her as Rhett had sucked on Cameron… She came, her fingers gripping Rhett’s hair.

He pulled his fingers from her, smearing them along his hard cock, slickening it with their combined cum as he sat back on the seat. She knelt on the seat and tentatively stroked her tongue over him.

“Yeah, like that,” he said. “Lick me clean of our cum.” He watched, the sight of her licking him, knowing what she licked from him, as arousing as her tongue on him.

His breath was grunted as she began to suck, his hips thrusting, fucking up into her mouth, and his fingers clenched on the back of her head, holding her to him as he came, only releasing once his orgasm was complete.

She sat up as she swallowed him down. “Give me a taste of that,” he opened his eyes with a grin and pulled her mouth to his, his tongue stroking against hers. “Alright,” he said as he eased back. “I’d better take you home.”