CHAPTER THREE
The October sun was sinking toward the gray bluffs. Lisa could almost see it moving. From her seat in the corner of the classroom, the last seat in the row of seats nearest the windows, Lisa could look out over the river and up at the vertical bluffs. Patches of yellow trees, looking like gardens of dandelions, grew up out of the steep hills below the bluffs. The sky was a deep autumn blue upon which floated cottony gray and white clouds. The river below reflected the sky's blueness, the clouds, the yellow trees, and the bluffs. Lisa was glad she'd come to Sutton. In Parcher, which was as flat as a prepubescent girl's chest, she'd never had a scene like this to look out at from her school classrooms.
It was Lisa's last class of the day study ball. After being picked up precisely at noon from the bus depot, Lisa had been brought directly to school. She'd met the principal, a short, frail, balding man, who had said no more than "How do you do?" and then had handed her class schedule and waved her out of his office. The principal had seemed no more interested in her than had Miss Sacks, the head of the foster home for girls where Lisa would be living.
Miss Sacks, a fast moving, fast talking redhead in her mid-thirties, had snatched Lisa out of the bus depot and whisked her over to Sutton High before Lisa had had time to think. "Have fun. See you tonight," Miss Sacks had said while revving the engine of her Saab. And then she had squealed away almost before Lisa could close the car door behind herself.
Lisa looked around the classroom. This class, study hall, was the first class in which she had seen any boys. During her first two classes, English and History, she was beginning to wonder whether Sutton High was sexually segregated. Not only were there no boys in her classes, but there were no boys in the halls. She had wondered whether the boys attended classes in a separate wing of the school. But now, with study hall, the boys appeared. Some boys were already sprawled out in their desks when she had entered the room. Other boys had staggered in during the first fifteen minutes of the study hall. The study hall moderator, a skinny, round-shouldered little man who resembled the principal, sat at his desk at the front of the room with his nose in a book. He'd assigned Lisa her seat when she'd come in, but aside from that, he kept his nose in his book, apparently disinterested whether students came in late, and apparently unconcerned with what was going on in the room.
Despite the moderator's apparent disinterest, the study hall was the quietest class Lisa had ever been in. The girls read, and the boys slept. Lisa had been surveying the classroom for half an hour now, from the moment she had entered it, and still, every time she looked out the window then back at the classroom, she blinked her eyes, wondering whether she was seeing things. This was the strangest school!
Not only were the boys sleeping but most of them were half-naked. All were barefooted, and most were dressed in nothing other than green gym trunks, green being the school color. One boy, an older boy who resembled the youth who had molested Lisa in the bus depot, had staggered into class in nothing but a filthy jockstrap with yellow stains on it. Nobody but Lisa appeared to pay him any attention. The boy slumped down in his desk and fell asleep immediately.
Lisa looked at the boys one by one. Each boy sported a wild mop of shoulder-length hair, most blond or sun-bleached yellow. A few boys had black hair, a few had red. Streaks of white lay on the boys' faces and torsos, caked salt from sweat evaporation. Each boy was burnt a deep bronze from the sun. And each boy had large feet with grubby, wide-spread toes, a sign that they mostly went barefooted.
The classroom reeked of sweat and smelled like a boys' lockerroom. The air was still and sleepy, with only the sounds being the boys' deep breathing and the occasional rustle of a book page. Lisa relaxed back in her seat, wondering about Sutton High. She hadn't yet spoken to any of her schoolmates. She was dying to find out how things operated in this strange school. She inhaled deeply. She loved the smell of all that boy sweat. The aroma of boy always made her horny.
"Hey!" The whispered word had come from across the aisle.
Lisa sat up and looked over at the boy who had whispered to her. She smiled at him.
The boy stretched, rubbing his eyes. He gave her wild grin.
"You a new chick? Ain't seen you around."
"Yes," Lisa whispered. "Today's my first day. I'm from Parcher. You probably never heard of it."
"Nah," the boy said, "never." He stretched again, flexing his brown muscles. Like most of the boys, he wore only green gym trunks. He was perhaps a year older than Lisa perhaps a little more. His hair was the color of ripe wheat.
Suddenly he swiveled toward her and plopped one of his bare feet in her lap. His brown leg extended across the aisle, glinting with golden hairs. His trunks rode up and his cock and balls squeezed out one leg, lying on the desk seat like a handful of flesh toys.
Lisa stared first at the boy's dirty foot, then at his cock and balls, then up at the study hall moderator, then around the classroom, then back at the boy. He still had that silly grin on his face. Lisa giggled, both dumbfounded and embarrassed.
"Do my foot. It's sore," the boy whispered. "What?" Lisa looked again around the room, expecting to see all eyes upon the boy and herself. The girls kept reading the boys went on sleeping, and the moderator stared at his book as if he'd been sculpted from a block of limestone.
"Massage it," the boy said.
"But I don't know how." Lisa felt foolish. What if someone were to look at her now, with a boy's big dirty foot in her lap?
"Rub it," the boy said. "What's to know?" He raised his leg and stroked her lips with his big toe. He gave each of her tits a nudge, then plopped his foot back down in her lap.
Lisa grabbed the big foot and began to squeeze and rub it. The boy's foot was at least twice the size of one of her own. As she massaged his foot, the toy's toes wiggled.
"Nice," he said. "Feels good."
Lisa smiled, feeling foolish. As she rubbed she looked around the room, ready to push the boy's foot away should anyone look her way.
"Now the other one," the boy said. He pulled his foot out of her lap and replaced it with the other one.
Lisa went to work, digging her thumbs into the fleshy sole, stroking the instep, pulling on the toes. As she worked, she suddenly realized that she was enjoying what she was doing. The boy was sighing. She could sense that he was relaxing. His cock had lengthened, but it was still lying on the chair seat like a heavy, floppy sausage. Lisa felt her cunt starting to drool.
The boy withdrew his foot. He grabbed his cock and began to stroke it.
"Peel down your jeans," he whispered. "Let me see your snatch."
Lisa felt herself flush. The boy was surely joking.
"Some other time," she said, trying to sound cool.
"Now!" the boy said. His face turned mean. "Peel down them jeans or I'll cut 'em off," He reached into his book bag and pulled out a jackknife which he began opening.
Lisa tried to keep smiling. This had to be a joke. The boy had his knife wide open. He carved at a callous on his palm, all the while glaring at her with his blue eyes.
"I ain't gonna tell you again," the boy said half out loud. He looked serious.
A boy who was sleeping nearby started in his sleep. Lisa looked up at the moderator. He must have heard. He must know what's going on. But he sat there like a statue, hiding behind his book. Lisa realized suddenly that the moderator wouldn't do anything to interfere. The boy with the knife could probably carve her up and nobody in the classroom would pay any attention. Just as nobody had responded to her scream in the Sutton bus depot, nobody would respond to her scream here. This was crazy. She knew that this just couldn't be. But it was. It was as real as that boy's well-sharpened knife blade.