"A little bit," Jake said, not mentioning that he owned two electric guitars-cheap Les Paul knock-offs at this point in his life-in addition to having access to the four his father owned.
"We'll have to get together and jam sometime, you know what I mean? You ever think of joining a band?"
"Well..."
"Hey, dicknose!" Castro shouted to Doug before Jake could answer. "Where's that fuckin' pipe? Give my man here a goddamn hit!"
Jake was given not just one hit of the potent Hawaiian bud, he was given three and he was soon in the stratosphere. Someone else handed him a fresh cup of beer. The radios came back on and the majority of the crowd drifted away but Castro and his immediate circle continued to talk to Jake, telling him about this concert they'd been to, that song they knew how to play, how famous their band was going to be once they got it together. Jake nodded and responded in all the right places but barely heard a word said to him. His attention was instead on Mandy, who had scooted even closer and was now almost snuggled up against him, her breasts making frequent and seemingly accidental contact with his arm.
Eventually the conversation shifted away from guitars and music and onto other things like cars and movies and drugs. The focus shifted off Jake as well as Castro and the other ruling members fell back into their more natural patterns. It was then that Mandy tugged his arm.
"Let's go fill our cups up again before the keg runs out," she said.
"Uh... sure," he replied, standing up.
They walked over to the keg, taking up position at the end of a line of about thirty people. As they moved slowly forward towards the tap, Mandy held onto his arm possessively, cuddling close to him. She was not able stake her claim on his conversation as easily as she staked it on his person. All those around him in the line commented on his performance, asking the same questions he'd been asked back in the group, making the same observations. Two more people asked him if he would consider joining their band when they put one together. He answered politely and monosyllabically, more than a little overwhelmed with this sudden attention.
Finally they reached the head of the line, where the keg was stored in a park services garbage can filled with half-melted ice. Jake primed the keg with the hand pump on the tap. He filled Mandy's cup and then his own.
"You wanna take a walk with me?" she asked as he handed her drink to her.
He swallowed a little nervously. "Sure," he replied, nodding a little too forcefully. "That's a good idea."
She led him away from the parking lots, toward the river. As they walked, Jake's mind reviewed what he knew about this girl he was going off alone with. She was sixteen and, though not the best looking of the stoner girls, was one of the favorites among the guys, which accounted for her membership in the ruling clique. It was said that she loved making out, loved having her tits played with and would do both of these activities quite freely with anyone who could get her alone. Getting to third base was reputed to be a little more difficult but certainly within the realm of possibility if one did a decent job working his way to second base. Only a select few had actually fucked her. No one had ever claimed he'd scored a blowjob from her, although there were occasional, unconfirmed reports of hand-jobs. Jake wondered what he was in store for. Would he even get to first base? Sure, the power of music on her attitude had been quite magic, almost supernatural even, but he wasn't playing music any more. Would the spell last? Or would she suddenly remember that she was with a virtual nobody and storm off? He wasn't sure. This was well beyond his minimal experience. The other girls he'd made out with had been those as shy as or even shier then himself.
The boat launch area was one of the darker parts of the park. It consisted of a sloping concrete ramp and a fifty-foot dock that protruded out into the river. There were no streetlights here because the facility was not intended to be used at night. They walked out onto the dock and sat down at the end of it, both of them taking off their shoes and socks and rolling up their pant legs so their feet could dangle in the semi-warm water. The sound of crickets chirping easily overrode the sound of revelry coming from the parking lot.
"Nice and peaceful out here, isn't it?" Mandy asked as she snuggled up next to him, her warm, soft body pressing into his.
"Yeah," Jake said nervously, taking a drink of his beer in an attempt to quell his dry mouth. "Very nice."
Her foot began to rub against his under the water, her bare toes caressing him. "Romantic even," she whispered.
He was shy, but not dumb. He put his arm around her, pulling her closer to him. She cooed a little, laying her head on his shoulder.
"You have such a beautiful singing voice," she told him. "Who would've thought? And when you were singing Dust in the Wind to me..." she shivered a little. "Wow. When you were looking in my eyes while you sang it... I knew there was connection there. I mean... didn't you feel it?"
"Yeah," he said, putting his head even closer, snuggling his nose through her brown hair. "I felt it."
"That's such a romantic song," she crooned. "It just gets you, you know?"
"I know," he whispered, even though Dust in the Wind really wasn't a romantic song at all. Quite the opposite in fact. It was a dark song about the inevitability of death and about how meaningless the actions of mere humans really are in the great scheme of things. But Mandy really didn't need to be enlightened about this, did she? He thought not.
She tilted her face up to his and he kissed her. Her lips were full and soft, very sensuous. They exchanged slow, soft kisses for a few moments and then her tongue slid out of her mouth and into his. He swirled his own tongue against it, not caring that she tasted of beer and cigarettes. He tasted the same, he was sure. She was a great kisser, he discovered, which was hardly surprising considering the amount of practice she'd had at it.
It didn't take long before she laid back on the dock and he lay forward, half-atop her. They continued to kiss each other, deep, tongue dueling, spit swapping French kisses, the kind that gave "making out" its name. His hand rested on her hip for a while and then slid up and down her bare leg beneath the hem of her denim shorts, feeling the soft skin there. It felt very nice, very feminine. He caressed here for the better part of five minutes before moving his hand back upward, onto her stomach.
"Mmmm," she cooed into his mouth as his hand rubbed her tummy through the Black Sabbath T-shirt she wore. He made larger and larger circles until he was just below her breasts on the upturn, just above her waistband on the downturn. He didn't risk going any further. Never before had a girl allowed him this much liberty on a first encounter.
Mandy came to his rescue. Seeming to sense his hesitation, she broke the kiss long enough to whisper, "You can touch them if you want. I like it."
He trembled a little but did as requested. His hand came up and landed softly on her left breast. He squeezed it experimentally. It was soft and pliable and oh so sexy.
Mandy broke the kiss again. "You can touch them underneath my shirt," she said softly. "That's kind of the best way."
"Yeah," he said, his mouth rendered otherwise speechless.
She giggled and pulled his face back down. Their lips connected and their tongues made contact once again. He brought his hand down to her waistband and began to tug on her shirt, trying to untuck it. Here he encountered problems. Her shorts were so tight upon her that the shirt didn't want to come free. He tugged harder and harder, moving it only a quarter inch or so at a time.
"Hold on," Mandy said. "You'll rip it."
"Sorry," he mumbled, embarrassed, feeling like what he was: inexperienced.
She giggled again. "It's okay," she said, pecking at his nose. And then, to his aroused astonishment, she reached down and unbuttoned her shorts. She then slid the zipper down, opening them wide. "There," she said, her tongue licking up the side of his face to his ear, where it swirled around the lobe. "That should help, shouldn't it?"