The girls looked amonst each other self-consciously. An orgy? Orgies usually had multiple guys, she was pretty sure, and besides they were in the middle of a meeting. “This is kind of an inconvenient time for that,” she said, trying to be polite in spite of her natural inclination to tear the head off of anyone stupid enough to get in her way.
“Fuck your convenience, Taylor—I see a locker room full of T&A, and I want to take advantage of it. What guy doesn’t fantasize about coming into a room like this and getting it on with a bunch of girls like you?”
Jessica stepped forward, hands on hips. “Girls like us? What’s that supposed to mean? Like we’re some kind of big sluts just because we’re cheerleaders?” Typical Jessica, Taylor thought, always being confrontational over innocuous comments. Way to not keep your cool, idiot.
DJ frowned at her, then walked over to the dry erase board they used for announcements and such and plucked the market from it, walking back over to Jessica as he uncapped it. Right there on her forehead, he started writing in large block letters. B-I-G was put across her forehead; S-L on her right cheek and U-T on her left. It could probably be read from a hundred feet away.
Taylor laughed. Dumb bitch.
“Well, that answers that,” he said, sounding self-satisfied. Jessica looked in the mirror and pouted. “Anyone else have any complaints?”
Taylor timidly raised a hand, and when DJ called on her, said in her most diplomatic voice (which wasn’t saying much), “Look, we still have the second half of the game to get to… are we going to make it back in time or what?”
He laughed. Mother fucker, she thought. “I tell you what—let’s face facts and accept I can’t fuck all of you, and some of you, I don’t want to.” Some of the girls glared indignantly, though privately, Taylor knew which ones he meant and didn’t blame him. Size 8 Lindsay was practically sporting hoofs as far as Taylor was concerned.
He took a few minutes going through the squad one by one, appraising them like it was his own personal meat market. When Taylor’s turn came up, she quietly complied with him as he lifted her skirt to show her butt, then cupped her breasts and patted them appreciatively. This is kind of dehumanizing, but whatcha gonna do.
In the end, he dismissed all the freshmen and sophomores—even Hope, which surprised her, but then she did still look a little too jail-baity—and then whittled down the juniors and seniors until only three remained—Evelyn, Kylee, and Taylor herself. Not much of an orgy, she thought, but she wasn’t complaining. He had them stand aside while the rest waited near the door. Then, of all things, he sent Jessica out to go get Lauren!
I mean, it’s one thing to treat the cheerleading squad like your own personal harem, but it’s another to do it in front of your step-sister.
Jessica lead Lauren in by the hand just seconds later, the latter still looking goggle-eyed at the signage on the former’s face. DJ grinned at her. “So girls,” he said, addressing the squad but looking specifically at Lauren, his tone dramatic, “who knows what time it is!”
It wasn’t an impressive moment in unified cheering, but enough of the girls got the direction of his lead-in that a garbled mix of “orgy time!” and “have an orgy!” and “time for sex!” came back at him. What kind of cheerleaders couldn’t manage something as simple as being asked an excited question and cheering back the one-word answer? Morons.
“You… really fucking did it,” Lauren said, looking mind-blown.
Taylor looked at her rival in a way to convey how obtuse she was being. “Well what were we going to do, say no? We’re not a bunch of bigots, Lauren.”
DJ grinned, then shooed the majority of the squad out of the locker room, giving farewell ass-pinches and booby-honks where he felt the urge. Then he turned on the remaining four girls, his lustful intents writ large on his face. Taylor looked them over herself, admittedly a bit curious as to his taste, since several girls were dismissed that she was sure were just as hot, maybe hotter.
“Why us?” Kylee asked, echoing her thoughts.
DJ looked them over, addressing them one by one. “Different reasons for each of you, actually. Kylee, you I kept around because I had a huge crush on you way back when. Lauren never told you?”
Kylee shook her head, though Taylor knew full well that Lauren had done just that. Lots of guys had crushes on Kylee—she was the quintessential Latina hotty. She was on the short side, but with parts all sized for a Barbie doll most of a foot taller. Full teardrop breasts and a well-rounded ass with a pretty face, and the sort of minimal intelligence that was evident just from listening to her talk for a few seconds (to confirm the vapid smile that usually adorned her pretty face). Without even really meaning to, Kylee had had guys at her beck and call all through school just by being earnest with her ineptitude and being cute and friendly enough to ingratiate herself. In Taylor’s book, she was a first-rate twit.
“Then there’s Evelyn, here. Really, I’ll chalk it up to curiosity. I’ve heard a dozen rumors about what a wildcat you are, and I’ve always wondered how much of it’s true. Today I’ll find out, I reckon.”
Evelyn grinned arrogantly, her vanity piqued. Taylor had heard the same rumors and knew full well the girl was a huge slut, though obviously she couldn’t vouch for the truth of her prowess firsthand. Evelyn was a petite but fiercely sexy young thing with smallish B-cup breasts and a trim waist to match. Her ass was bigger, a bit more muscular, but still fit the rest of her well. She worked part-time on nights and weekends at Hooters, where her tits didn’t bring in much tip money but her magenta-dyed hair seemed to, lending her a raver-girl kind of air. Taylor had snooped in her gymbag more than once hoping to find some ecstasy so she could have an excuse to kick the whore off her team, but no luck yet.
Then he looked at Taylor, striding up in front of her until they were almost nose to nose. She stood her ground, unintimidated by this socially inferior specimen. “Taylor, Taylor, Taylor. You, my dear, are just a fucking bitch.”
Her jaw dropped. She couldn’t remember anyone speaking to her that way in her life. Certainly not since puberty had graced her with this dynamite body. She was tall, with a lot of her height in a pair of long, dancers legs. The pale blonde hair halfway down her back predated pubescence, but she’d started growing it out in sixth grade to hide a pair of unusually large breasts when she’d been too young and stupid to know what an asset they were. She’d have been a shoe-in for the Swedish bikini team. If she were Swedish.
She was just about to retort—politely, of course; this was DJ Swanson here—when he put a hand over her mouth. The nerve! “And you’ve been a bitch to Lauren, which I normally don’t give a shit about, but she’s had a rough week so we’re going to do her a solid. Today, Taylor, you’re going to do everything she tells you to do, and you’re going to do it with a smile on your face.”
Taylor laughed as his hand came down. Tolerating this from DJ was one thing—it made no more sense to fight it than it did to try to fight bad weather or heavy traffic—but from his step-sister, her sworn enemy? “Fat fucking chance,” she spat. “I’m the captain and she’s just another skank on MY team. I don’t take orders in this locker room—I give them.”
The afore-mentioned skank wilted a bit at that, but her step-sib was unfazed as he reached into his pocket and took out his camera. He hit a couple buttons, then handed it to Lauren. “Well that’s your choice, Taylor, but remember, I get to make choices too. For instance, I’m choosing to have Lauren here record this, and if you don’t obey her—smiling, remember—then I’m going to let her distribute the video in whatever way she wants.”