Read First Times: Nine Tales of Innocence Lost Online
Authors: Natalie Deschain
First Times: Nine Tales of Innocence Lost
Natalie Deschain’s
First Times Series
No. 1-9
by Natalie Deschain
***
Copyright 2014 Natalie Deschain
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This is a work of fiction, featuring consenting adults in sexual situations.
CONTENTS
When Kacie gets pulled over on a deserted highway and night, she manages to buy her way out of a ticket- with her virginity.
Bratty Victoria has been spoiled rotten, but not too spoiled to be sold. Indebted to a crime lord, her father has offered her up as collateral to clear his debts.
When Mercy goes for a Saturday swim and falls asleep at the pool, she finds herself surrounded by the football team.
Kelly’s summer lifeguard job blossoms into more when the teacher she’s crushed on for years shows up to work alongside her. It takes all her coquettish charms to wear him down, but when he takes her in the locker room it’s everything she’s ever dreamed.
Melissa has a massive crush on her archeology professor, and when he offers to guide her through an independent study, she quickly begins fantasizing about him, and soon her fantasies become a kinky reality.
Camilla has been servicing her boss since she started work, but has always been afraid to go all the way. When the boss’s wife learns about Camilla’s indiscretions, she wants a taste of the action, and to punish her cheating husband.
To save money and life off-campus, Jessica moves in with her sister, Lilly,
and her sister’s husband, Todd. When Lilly gets pregnant and turns cold towards her man, his desperation grows, as does his lust for the young, nubile Jessica.
Taylor’s favorite professor has finally talked her into joining a class trip to Italy, but the older woman has an agenda that’s far from academic.
Shy, geeky Alexis has never been much of a social butterfly. Until, that is, she takes a job at His and Hers novelties, working for the sultry Dianne and her husband David. When Dianne learns that Alexis has never done the deed, the older woman, and her husband, give Alexis a toe-curling, unforgettable introduction into the world of pleasure.
Kacie
I wasn’t even speeding.
It was a week after my eighteenth birthday. I went to a concert with a few friends. Nothing crazy, we just went out for some fun. It was the middle of the summer, and I only had a few weeks left before I started my freshman year of college. I was excited and scared at the same time, looking forward to taking the next big step and moving into the adult world. At the same time, I thought about packing up all my things and leaving my bedroom empty and deserted, and the thought felt hollow. I knew my mom wouldn’t turn it into a sewing room or anything like that, but once I started living somewhere else it would change. I was so lost in thought, imagining so many possibilities, that I didn’t notice the spinning blue and red lights behind me until the cop spun up his siren in a loud
bee-boop,
to get my attention.
As I pulled off the road, he pulled the cruiser up behind me, canted to one side with the wheels turned out, like he was afraid he was going to have to chase me. It was the middle of the night, so I turned on the dome light and rolled down both windows. I had my hands perched on the very middle of the wheel as I watched him walk up to the car. He was young, older than my older brother but younger than my father, and he looked like one of those cops that spends all his time off duty in the gym, working out. His summer uniform had short sleeves, and I could see his rippling muscles and tight skin. In one hand he had a flashlight, so blindingly bright I couldn’t see his face. As he walked up to the car he shined the light all through it, and I got nervous.
Always, I’d been squeaky clean. I was valedictorian, vice president of the student government, and a half dozen other things. I’d never gotten so much as a speeding ticket. Unfortunately, my friends weren’t all that way. I’d driven to the concert, and I had a sudden flash of panic, wondering if Michelle left a pipe or a baggie of weed in my back seat. I sniffed the air and gripped the wheel, trying to tell myself the smell I picked up was just my imagination. The cop swung his light away as he leaned into my window and looked me over.
I was dressed for the weather, and it being the middle of August that meant I was wearing next to nothing, a pair of cutoffs with no real legs to speak of and a gauzy yellow t-shirt that slid and slipped around my shoulders, always trying to expose me. With the windows open the cool, conditioned air inside the car mingled with the hot breeze outside. The cop looked me up and down and glanced around inside the car. I shifted on the seat.
“Can I help you, officer?”
“Where are you headed?”
“Home.”
“Where are you coming from?”
“I was out with some friends, sir.”
His eyes bored into mine. “Have anything to drink tonight?”
I shook my head, then added, “I’m not old enough.”
He stood up. “I’ve never known that to be much of a deterrent. License and registration.”
As I leaned over to fish my driver’s license out of my purse, which lay on the passenger’s seat. My shirt rode up my back and I could feel his eyes on me. I quickly pulled my license out, then fumbled to pull the little leatherette book with my registration and insurance cards out of the glove box. I handed them over, and his fingers brushed mine when he snatched them out of my hand. I went to fold my hands on my lap, but remembering that video about dealing with police I saw on the Internet, I put them back on the wheel. The cop looked over everything, paying particular attention my driver’s license.
“Just turned eighteen, eh?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Last week. I guess that makes you barely legal.”
I shifted in the seat again, squirming. “I guess so, sir.”
“So you haven’t had anything to drink,” he said, looking around in the car. “Where’d you and these friends of yours go?”
“A concert,” I said.
“Like a rave? Ya’ll do any drugs? Smoke any weed tonight, miss?”
“What? No!”
“That’s funny,” he said, sniffing the air, “I swear I could smell something.”
I shook my head. “I don’t do any drugs, sir. I swear.”
“Don’t cry, sweetie. Step out of the car for me.”
I swallowed hard, undid my seat belt, and stepped out. I swung the door closed, but he caught it with his hand and pushed it all the way open. I stood between him and the inside of the car. It was ninety degrees out and humid, but I felt like I was freezing. I rubbed my arms and watched him. His face was a blank mask, studying me.
“Mind if I have a look inside?”
“I… I don’t know…”
“If you’ve got nothing to hide, you’ve got nothing to worry about, hon. I just need to make sure you don’t have anything you’re not supposed to have. You can agree to it now, or we can sit here and call for a warrant. I’m sure mom and dad would love to hear that.”
“Okay,” I said.
“Step around behind the car, and put your hands on the trunk.”
I blinked. “Why?”
“Do it.”
I did as I was told. I stepped behind the car and put my hands on the rear deck lid, while he opened my door and the back door of the car, and started looking around.
“Stay still, or I’ll have to cuff you and put you in the cruiser, and we don’t want that, okay?”
I nodded. Somehow, leaning over the back of the car made me uncomfortable. It made my hamstrings feel stretched out, and my back clenched. I watched him sit in my seat and open up the glove box and console, and check under the sun visors. Finding nothing, he got back out, and ducked down to look under the seats. He ran his hands between the cushions in the back and peered under the seats back there, too. As he stood up I let out a breath. There was nothing to worry about in the trunk, I was sure of that. As he stood up, he pushed the doors closed. I started to stand up, but he gave me a sharp look and I pressed my hands to the trunk lid.
“Hands behind your back,” he said.
“What?” I squeaked. “I didn’t-“
“You’ve been a bad girl,” he said, producing a small, plastic baggie. There was a green-brown nugget of cheap weed inside. It dangled from his fingers, accusing me.
“It’s not mine,” I whimpered, “I swear, it was my friend-“
“What friend?” he said, looking around. “I’m pretty sure we’re alone here. Put your hands behind your back, sweetheart. We don’t need this to get rough.”
Slowly, I stood up, and brought my hands behind my back. He stepped behind me and I felt the cold sting of his handcuff on one wrist, then the other, and the sound of them clicking shut as they tightened and pressed the cold, bare metal against my skin. He took me by the arm and pulled me to the car.
“Am I under arrest?”
He didn’t answer me until we got to the car. He pulled open the back door, put his hand on my head and pushed me inside. The back seat of the cruiser was separated from the front by a clear panel, and it smelled like old gum, blood, and body odor. I cinched up, trying not to let my bare skin touch the disgusting seat. I had to turn sideways, because of my arms behind my back, pushing against the seat. I watched him close up my car and return, sliding into the front seat. He tossed the baggie and my paperwork onto the seat next to him and started up the car, shutting off the lights as he did. My car was still sitting on the side of the road.
“This is very serious,” he said.
I was too choked up to talk. “It’s not mine.”
He shook his head. “Wish I could believe that. You seem like a nice girl. Shame about your birthday.”
“What do you mean?”
“If you were a juvenile, this’d probably be nothing.
You wouldn’t even spend the night in jail. You’re looking at a week in county, sad to say. Pretty little thing like you, they’ll smell you coming a mile away.”
I tightened up on myself and whimpered.
“Where are we going?” I managed, as he pulled out onto the road.
He didn’t answer me, he just drove. We were out in the sticks a little bit, so there wasn’t much around. I expected a police station, but he pulled off at the old, empty weigh station instead, driving down the truck lane and stopping next to the squat, ugly building next to the truck scale. He got out, opened the door, and took my arm. I was pulled unsteadily to my feet and shook my head, trying got get some loose strands of hair out of my eyes. He led me to the front door, and everything was painted a sickly yellow by buzzing bug lights as he opened it and pushed me inside, and flicked on the lights. The inside was empty, all the desks abandoned. He led me by the arm to one of them and sat me down on it. I scooted back until I felt like I was no longer likely to fall and waited while he took a slow walk around the room, closing the blinds.
“What is this?” I said. “Why did you bring me here?”
He patted me on the head, and I wormed out from under his hand.
“Like I said, sweetie, you’ll be charged as an adult. Possession with intent to distribute.”
“I’m not a drug dealer!” I squeaked.
He sighed. “Not how it works, baby cakes. You have enough to sell, that’s intent to distribute, and it adds to your sentence. The only thing worse would’ve been if you had a firearm in the car. Then
you’d be looking at federal time on top of the state.”
I couldn’t take it anymore. The tears burst out all at once, followed by a sob.
“Please,” I begged, “I can’t go to jail!”
“Prison,” he said. “You’d go to prison. Medium security, probably, but don’t let that fool you. You’d be marked as someone’s property by the end of your first day.”
“W-what would they do with me?”