Page 9 of Linebacker
With my hands held high above my head, I sway and gyrate my hips as seductively as I can. The beat changes to a slightly slower tempo, so I bring my arms down, running the palms of my hands over my breast and onto my hips. When I sense someone up close behind me, I tilt my head so I can check out who it is and bingo, it’s Smithy. I glance forward again and find Cocker is here too. He’s stood right in front of me swaying to the music, only a couple of inches are between us. He takes a few steps forward as Smithy’s body becomes flush with my back. Fuck, it’s like I’m the filling in a fuckwit FUB sandwich. I gulp down the urge to punch them away. Instead, I put my hands around Cocker’s neck, and arch my back so that my tits hit Cocker’s chest. In turn, my arse makes contact with Smithy’s crotch all while I continue to sway my hips. Fuck, it must be working because there’s a prominent hardness pressing into the base of my back, and when I look down Cocker’s pants are tented at the front.
Woah! I’m well out of my comfort zone. Yet, I have a sick sense of satisfaction that I, ‘Hopeless’ Harper, ‘snigger’, has them both hard and wanting me. Or should I say the sexy blonde version of me in the fiery red dress?
I go up onto my tiptoes, lace my hands into the back of Cocker’s hair, and pull him down towards me. His eyes drop down to my lips, but kissing him, that’s not happening. I tilt my head to the side until my mouth is against his ear. I’m just about to suggest going somewhere more private when he’s yanked back away from me. I take a few seconds to comprehend what’s going on, but when I see the tall figure in front of me, with a face of utter ferocity, fear hits me.
“Father?” How is he here? How would he know where to find me? What the!?
The grip on my arm is so tight that my skin tingles from the cut in my circulation. Lifting me until I’m almost off my feet, he brings me up to his level.
“Home. Now,” he sneers into my face, his spit peppers across my cheeks. I trip more than once, my feet barely keeping up with his pace. I would have fallen several times if it wasn’t for his tight hold on me. He drags me through the balloon archway, out into the hall and towards the exit doors.
The doors slam shut behind us. The cold air hits my heated skin and only adds to the shivers induced by my complete and utter fear of the savagery that I see in my father’s eyes.
“I’m sorry, Father,” I blurt out, hoping that if at least I show remorse he might go easier on my punishment. When we get to the bottom of the steps that lead up to the school entrance, he comes to a sudden stop.
“Whore,” he screams in my face. “You dirty, filthy whore. I saw you with those two boys.”
I don’t need to look behind me to know that already an audience has followed us out and are congregated at the top of the stairs watching. Guess the Bell and Trudy show has gone down in the ratings. A new soap opera is now grabbing their attention.
“It’s not what you think, Father,” I plead, tears spill from my eyes from pain, fear and embarrassment. “If you’d just let me explain.”
“I haven’t time to listen to your lies,” he spits back. He looks to the sky, adding “The Lord sees and knows what you have done.”
“Father, I have done nothing. Please just listen to me.”
“Not done anything?” he laughs hysterically, “I find you here after you’ve defied my orders, only to find you dressed like some common harlot. Dancing with not one but two of Satan’s disciples. You give me no option but to punish you as the Lord would find fit for your despicable debauchery.”
“No,” I screech back at him. I bring back my free hand and whack my father across his face. But when I pull as hard as I can against his restraint, hoping that the shock of my retaliation would give me the chance to get away, he increases the pressure of his hold until my bones feel like they might snap. “Let go of me!” I screech out from the pain that pulses up my arm to my shoulder, so painful that bile rises into my throat. I swallow, not wanting to show weakness. The air between us is highly charged with hostility but the ever-growing crowd that watches as the drama intensifies only fires up my determination. “I said let go, Father.”
“You little bitch.” My father pulls back his hand ready to strike me and my body tenses up anticipating the impact. But suddenly he hesitates when a dark shadow falls over us.
“Sir,” a deep throaty voice vibrates from behind me. “I don’t think this is the place to air your domestic issues.” I don’t need to turn my head to see who it is but, I do anyway. Mars stands, legs apart, feet firmly planted on the flagstones close behind me.
“And who might you be?” my father grunts at the enormous figure that’s dared to interrupt our altercation.
“I’m Mr, Marshall,” Mars replies. He’s tall, big and dressed in a dark grey suit. His tie is still in place, and with the dark stubble that is already showing on his face, he looks more man than boy. “Head of the science department. You must be Mr. Palmer. I don’t think we’ve met before.” Mars holds his hand out to my father, and as the hand that my father needs to respond to his gesture is the one that is holding on to me, he has no option but to release his grip.
As soon as Mars has my father’s hand in his, he squeezes it tightly then punches him straight in the face. “That’s for Hope.” Mars sneers before he releases him. My father’s hands instantly go to cover his mouth and nose, and blood gushes between his fingers.
“Time to leave, Hope,” Mars instructs firmly and grabs my hand. He threads his fingers through mine and quickly pulls me away. We take off running. The sound of my fathers’ pain rings out as he shouts and splutters my name. But I don’t take any notice, I just keep on moving.
“Where are we going?” I pant out as we run across the grass verge towards the parking area. He’s about to answer when I stumble as my heel becomes stuck in the soft grass, but Mars picks up on it instantly and comes to a stop. He bends down, slides my foot out of the stuck shoe and pulls it loose from the soil before he hands it to me.
“Hold on tight,” he orders as he scoops me up into his arms and sets of running again. “My car is over there,” he replies as clear as day, no sign of the fact that he’s sprinting across the school grounds while carrying me. “After that, fuck knows.”
He drops my feet to the floor when we arrive in front of a white Range Rover Evoque and moves around to the driver’s side. Me? I stand there not quite knowing what to do.
“Come on,” he laughs. “What are you waiting for? Get in.”
“Is this yours?” I question not sure how an eighteen-year-old can afford such a big, fancy car. When the image of my father’s angry face flashes to the forefront of my mind, I no longer hesitate and jog to the passenger side to get in. I slide onto the black leather, plush seat, to find Mars is already seated with his belt firmly in place. The engine roars to life.
“I stole it, but don’t worry, I put fake number plates on.” My mouth drops open and my eyes glare at him over the centre console. “I’m joking,” he sniggers flashing me a look that I can’t quite decipher. It’s not like I’ve seen many other expressions on his face other than serious. “It’s my mums but as she’s out of town, I get to use it. You might think I’m a bit of an arsehole, but I sure as hell aren’t a thief.”
Silence falls between us as Mars drives us out of the school grounds. When we’ve put a few miles between us and the shit storm we left behind, Mars breaks the stillness within the car.
“Must admit, I never would have imagined you as a blonde and I was curious why you’d turn up dressed as you did, but now it all makes sense.”
“Shit!” I curse out. “I left my bag in the storeroom. I have to go back.”
