Primal Scream (Box Set #1, Taboo Sex + AFF) (36 page)

“
Everyone’s sw-sw-swooning over that guy,” Aisyah whispered to Chantal, when they crossed each other’s path. Aisyah left out that “everyone” wasn’t really accurate—some of the dyke leaders were clearly unfazed, and almost seemed to want to stay away from male contact…but they were in the minority.

“
Who?” Chantal asked merrily, gazing over at the visitors’ area, which was several paces away. She liked some eye candy any time of the day. She was glad to be some distance away, and out of earshot of the visiting guests they were talking about.

“
Second guy from the right at the third row…I think.” Aisyah opened up her folded copy of the unique seating arrangement, and they had a look at the guests’ names as displayed on the seating chart. “According to this, his name should be…Brett.” Aisyah conveniently left out that she was more interested in the beautiful, androgynous being next to Brett—“Marc Anthony Knowles,” according to the seating arrangement.

Chantal glanced over the seating template, looking at some of the names:

Brett Lowe Yi Jie

Marc Anthony Knowles

Chantal Cheok Ern Xin

Aisyah Foo
Aisyah “Foo Fighters”

“
Only on your copy, I guess,” Chantal pointed out, in reference to the scrawled nickname in Aisyah’s handwriting. ‘Foo’ was Aisyah’s last name. She liked to think she was somehow connected to the ‘Foo Fighters’ rock band.

Chantal tried to see who Brett, the supposed ultra-cute guy was—she caught a glimpse of his profile. He looked a little bit mixed—perhaps 70% Chinese Asian, with a little bit of something else thrown in—and vaguely familiar.

“
Go say hi to him, he has the rock type of hairstyle you like,” Aisyah said to Chantal, before turning back to see to her morning gate duty. The bell was going to ring soon and after the flag-raising and morning prayers, the morning Mass and school council ceremony would begin.

The girls didn’t know that Brett and Marc had been watching as Aisyah made her way down the corridor too.

“
Is that…the other girl in the pic?” Marc asked Brett, when they saw Aisyah having a quick chat with Chantal.

“
Yep,” Brett replied, calmly settling himself in his seat and looking the other direction, whenever he saw Chantal glancing over at the visitors’ area. “Positive.”

Damn…who is she…
he had been thinking, since he saw Aisyah going up to Chantal. But now, he certainly recognized Chantal. He could even remember the shape of her butt, and the shade of red of her underwear from the picture the girls had uploaded.

Aisyah didn’t tell Chantal about “Marc,” the one next to Brett, the one who’d beamed at her when he stepped through the school gates. She’d smiled right back at him.

Brett and Marc seemed very “close,” and Aisyah trusted her inner gaydar and bidar. She could correctly sense people’s sexuality without overt signs, and sometimes before the subjects themselves knew it. It was mostly in the eye contact. She didn’t know that Brett and Marc had pretty good bidars too—bidars being a combination of ‘bisexual’ and ‘radar’, to refer to the purported intuitive or sensing ability to identify other bisexuals—and had been watching Aisyah and Chantal interact. The girls’ body language conveyed a general openness and affinity with each other.

Marc was drawn to Aisyah’s semi-boisterous but warm, friendly vibe. Even the way she walked seemed to reflect a fun, energetic personality. Aisyah thought Marc was a delicious mulatto, a beautifully blended race, with beautiful, creamy, smooth skin, not too dark, not too light. A bit like her own. She felt a bit guilty—was she being slightly racist, narcissistic, and increasingly bisexual instead of butch lesbian?

Chantal was approaching the visitors’ area, and making her way to her seat. But she was intending to say hi to the one named “Brett.”

Brett had seen that walk before. Long steps and rockin’ hips, the slight sway and swagger that made him want to stop everything and go tap her ass.

Chantal went over towards Brett and Marc, suddenly thinking of the KinkstersFB message, then dismissing it almost immediately. She didn’t think she had a recognizable face, especially since the photo was taken from the side. And it’d just feel too weird, too coincidental, too synchronized, if everyone managed to meet and introduce themselves to each other before the end of the school day. ‘Everyone’ referring to whoever had sent the message, Aisyah, and Chantal’s own self.

Brett saw Chantal pause in her step. She was standing close to the third row, beside Marc who was right at the outer edge. Brett was seated next to Marc, “second from the right.”

She noticed Brett’s melting brown eyes, nice hands, nice chest, and slightly messy medium brown hair—Aisyah was right, it was a rock hairstyle that Chantal liked to see on boys. But that wasn’t what made her freeze.

Brett stood up and shook her hand, to make it appear that they were all frozen in formalities, as he wondered what color her underwear was, or if she was even wearing any in the first place. “I sent you the email yesterday,” he said with a straight smile, like he was referring to an email document with the presentation later in the day.

She was wet between the legs—it was him! The Speedos boy! For real!

And in that moment of recognition, Chantal could almost see it in Brett’s eyes as he finally placed her correctly as well—the girl at the pool with the nice, round ass.

“
We
sent you the email,” Marc added in a low voice, making his presence known to Chantal, and gesturing towards Brett. “‘We’ meaning both of us,” he added in a low voice.

“
Yes,” Chantal replied, as she took her seat in front of them—before she linked it together. It was the Speedos boy who was also on KinkstersFB. She really owed Aisyah now.

There was something in the way Brett looked at her, and held her hand, that seemed to signal his “arrival,” as if he was there for a purpose. Chantal looked over at Aisyah, who was seated a few seats away over with the sports leaders. Chantal felt Brett’s burning gaze on the back of her neck—his presence seemed to both calm and excite her, at the same time.

She started to think of the threesome again, and then a foursome, with the four names she remembered most clearly from the seating arrangement:
Brett Lowe Yi Jie, Marc Anthony Knowles, Chantal Cheok, Aisyah “Foo Fighters.”

All four of them happened to be sitting up, backbones straight, the ramrod-straight posture belying their not-so-straight ways underneath.

She felt like throwing herself at Brett—it was just lust, nothing complicated. She was tired of feeling guilty…about sex before marriage…over lesbianism and homosexuality, and sex in general…about betraying Aisyah if she went after a guy...about being trapped in the stereotype of every student in an all-girls school being a skanky lesbian.

She didn’t know that Brett had quietly guessed that she and Aisyah placed friendship as a priority, like him and Marc, and that he was happily entertaining the thought of a foursome as well. It’d be a good arrangement—they might each potentially end up with a new girlfriend/boyfriend, get to keep their current best friend, and have an extra friend with benefits. They’d all be winners.

The morning Mass had just begun. Chantal swiped some imaginary sweat off her brow, as she zoned out and started thinking about what the Bible said about gays and homosexuality. She had spent many nights poring through the Book of Wisdom, and knew several quotes by heart:

You shall not lie with a male as one lies with a female; it is an abomination.

-- (Lev 18:22)

If there is a man who lies with a male as those who lie with a woman, both of them have committed a detestable act; they shall surely be put to death.

-- (Lev 20:13)

Do you not know that the unrighteous shall not inherit the kingdom of God? Do not be deceived; neither fornicators, nor idolaters, nor adulterers, nor effeminate, nor homosexuals.

-- (Cor 6:9)

For even their women exchanged the natural use for what is against nature. Likewise also the men, leaving the natural use of the woman, burned in their lust for one another…

-- (Romans 1:26).

Homosexuality was described in Scripture as an unnatural, immoral perversion. It was clear that heterosexual marriage was the only form of marriage sanctioned in the Bible and that homosexual practice was always to be condemned.

But Why?
Chantal still questioned. Marriage was no guarantee of commitment. And gays could be unmarried and more committed to each other than a married straight couple, which threw one of the very core aspects of the institution of marriage right out the window.

Seriously, why did the Bible have so much hate against gays, who might not ever have been Christians in the first place? Buddhists didn’t go around condemning gays for being “abominations,” so what was the deal here?

Chantal thought about the original threesome she had in mind, with Aisyah and “the Speedos boy”—one less body was a little less complicated to contemplate on. The threesome was like an unholy trinity going on in Chantal’s head, which was a mess by the time the school Mass and ceremony were over.

“
We shall adjourn to the cafeteria for some refreshments,” the bulldog head mistress announced to the visiting school students, where Aisyah and Chantal were situated. Aisyah nicknamed her “the bulldog” because she did resemble one, with a horrible badly-permed hairstyle. To top it off, the head mistress did own a small pug.

Chantal was going to look for Aisyah, but the sports leaders were leading the way several paces in front. She needed Aisyah around, for moral support if nothing else. Chantal hung around, wanting to scope out Brett from the back from a short distance away. Marc was chatting with some of the students from HIGH and St. Dom’s Academy…while Brett deliberately loitered at the back of the group till he ended up in step with Chantal.

“
Do you swim every weekend?”

She nodded. She thought he was going to get straight to the point about the photos of she and Aisyah, where they were just fooling around. Or were they?

He could dive down into her, anytime.

“
You’re a…fantastic swimmer,” she said. “I’ve seen you swimming up and down, non-stop—like a…torpedo.”
Way to go to make it sound sexy.
“Do you…”

Keep going in bed too? Because she could, and was dying for the right time, with the right person. Or people, rather, since she wanted sexual experiences with both males and females.

They seemed to instinctively move towards a dark little area behind a staircase they were just passing by, when a teacher came out from the main office and headed to the staircase in their direction. Brett and Chantal stepped out of the dark area, casually making their way towards the tuck shop.

A couple of HIGH girls walked past them, with a semi-glazed look in their eye when they looked at Brett. They giggled once they were a few steps ahead.

Brett kept walking. Chantal’s mind was a blank, apart from the image of him in his Speedos.

“
I’m Brett…Chantal,” he said, leaning forward slightly to take a look at her nametag. He kept his eyes on the nametag on the left side of her uniform, instead of her chest.

It was a few days before her period, which meant her breasts were extra sensitive and tender, especially when touched. She was wearing a thin string-halter bra today, which matched the hot pink string bikini bottom she had on below. Good dressing always started with good lingerie—one had to dress starting from the inner most layer, and work their way outwards.

“
Are you a lesbian?” he asked, curious to know if she’d reply that she was into girls exclusively. He’d work his way around it, if that was indeed her answer.

A flash of anger came over Chantal’s face. She wasn’t angry at Brett, or the way he said it. She was just perturbed about the whole thing. People never went around asking if a person was straight.

Brett noticed, and tried again, taking a softer and more tactful approach. “Or are you…heteroflexible…”

Or bi, like me?
he left out. He’d tell her if she told him about herself. And only if he felt like it.

She nodded. “I think so…I don’t discriminate, between guys and girls.”

Brett smiled at her diplomacy.

She felt her clit pulse when Brett lightly ran a finger over her lower back, starting from the lower spot of the lower back, just before it met the butt. It’d been a while since she’d been really attracted to a guy—girls were softer, and very pretty to look at—but Brett was well-groomed, well-mannered, and non-abrasive. Perhaps of the “gentlemen” breed which all the girls had long thought to be extinct.