Emelie in the 80s: 17 (Patreon)

As Pete walked down the hall at school Monday, his heels clicking on the tile floor, he noticed people were looking at him differently. Girls were huddling, whispering. Guys were doing the same. He’d grown to expect all the attention, and for sure he still sensed the lust and jealousy from the kids, but at the same time— something had changed.

“Good morning!” Fiona almost shouted as she burst into the scene, grabbed Pete’s wrist and dragged him to a quiet corner. “There’s a tape,” she said. ‘A tape!”

“Okay, dork. I have no idea of what that means.”

“The party? Your sex fest? That creep Jerry Stein taped it!”

Pete thought about it for a second, then his mouth dropped open. “Oh, no.”

“Yes, and he made copies.”

Pete turned and marched off.

“Where are you going?” Fi said.

“To have a little chat with Jerry Slime,” Pete said.

Pete stormed through the hall, spotted Jerry at his locker, a couple guys crowding around him as he pulled some VHS tapes out of his locker. Pete charged. Jerry never saw him coming, so when Pete put both hands on Jerry’s shoulders and threw the whole weight of his weight against Jerry’s body, Jerry slammed into the locker with a “clang,” his head bouncing off the metal, and he sank to the ground, holding his head, groaning. Everyone backed away, “ooooohhhhhh” and formed a circle around Pete and Jerry.

Pete planted a heel on Jerry’s chest. “Jerk!” He spat. “Who do you think you are?”

Jerry looked up into Pete’s furious eyes, shaking his head. “I… uh… I…”

“Get on your knees,” Pete said, removing his foot from Jerry’s chest.

Jerry obeyed. He hadn’t thought this through at all, nor had he expected to become obsessed with “Emma.” He’d just done what he did, but now having Emma enraged at him, he just had to do whatever he needed to do to make it right. On his hands and knees, he looked up at Emma. The other kids were laughing, shaking their heads, seeing Pete standing there, regal, nose in the air, hands on his hips.

“Kiss my foot,” Pete said.

“What?” Jerry said, looking at all the other kids. “I…. um…”

“Kiss it!”

Jerry leaned down, kissed Pete’s foot. Pete tossed his long hair triumphantly. “Give me the tapes. All of them.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Jerry said, crawling around, gathering the tapes. The bell rung, and the other kids scattered, even as Mr. Kelly came down the hall, curious as to what was going on.

Fiona went to Jerry’s locker and grabbed the rest of the tapes, while Jerry handed the pile he’d collected from the floor to Pete. “I’m sorry…” he mumbled.

“What's going on here?” Mr. Kelly said, avoiding Pete’s eyes.

“Oh, I accidentally dropped some videos and little Jerry is helping me,” Pete said.

“Is that right?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Jerry said, slump shouldered, completely broken.

Mr. Kelly sensed there was something more going on. “What’s on these tapes?”

“Walk away,” Pete said.

Mr. Kelly hesitated, but he knew if it ever came out that he had slept with his student, his life would be over. “Okay. Okay,” he said.

“I better not hear anything more ever about tapes,” Pete said, stepping right up to Jerry, who sank back against the lockers. “You better destroy any more copies.”

“I will. Yeah. Yeah.” And then, as Pete turned to walk away, he added, “thanks.”

Pete smirked. He and Fiona walked out to the parking lot and threw the tapes into the trunk of his car. “You’re amazing,” Fiona said.

Pete tossed his hair. “I know.”

Talk of the tapes and the showdown with Jerry filled the school the whole day. The girls were amazed. They thought for sure Emma would be shamed, knocked down, destroyed forever as a massive slut, but somehow she only seemed to grow bigger, more powerful. They could all see the way the guys drooled over her even more.

Pete reveled in the attention, the power. He decided it was time to take Brad down. The way he’d humbled Jerry had triggered all kinds of things in Pete, and he wanted more, lots more. When his last class ended, he pulled out his lipstick and a compact, and he touched up his lipstick. “I’ll see you later,” he said, checking his face, mussing his hair.

“What are you doing?”

“Take Brad,” Pete said, getting up.

Brad was at his locker, holding court, his usual group of bros gathered around him. Pete pushed through the circle, grabbed the collar of Brad’s rugby shirt and pulled him away from the guys. “I need to talk to you,” Pete said.

Brad smirked at his bros and followed, letting his eyes fall to Pete’s plump, inviting ass. Pete dragged Brad all the way down the hall, out of the school and off to a spot behind some bushes behind the storage unit where the maintenance crew kept their gear. He didn’t stop for small talk, but pushed his body against Brad’s, grabbing the boy behind the neck and pulling him down for a kiss. Brad responded, slipping an arm around Pete’s waist, pulling him in, meeting the kiss.

Pete attacked like a wild animal, and somehow Brad found himself on his butt, Pete yanking his pants down to his knees. Pete climbed on then, kissing Brad, pushing him onto his back, straddling him. Brad tried to roll them over, to take the top position, but Pete rolled with him and ended up back on top. “Just lay back sweetie,” he said.

“I don’t know,” Brad said, feeling weird, knowing that “Emma” was taking the dominant role, which made him feel— weak.

Pete rubbed his thumb along Brad’s lower lip then slipped it into his wet mouth. “Suck,” Pete said.

“Mmmpf,” Brad answered, turning his head, but Pete kept his thumb in Brad’s mouth, pushing it deeper, rubbing it against his tongue. With his free hand Pete pulled his shirt open, revealing his bra, his cleavage. “If you want all this, suck,” he repeated. Pete loved that Brad was fighting, resisting, and it made it all the sweeter when something seemed to flicker in Brad’s eyes, and he started to suck, slowly, bashfully at first. Then, he started to bob, letting his mouth slide up and down as he flickered Pete’s thumb with his tongue, enjoying the salty taste.

“Yeah, baby,” Pete said, mussing Brad’s hair with his free hand. “That’s good. That’s the way I like it. He pushed his hand under Brad’s shirt, pinched one of his nipples. Brad arched his back, moaned. He was lost in lust, confused and ashamed but also driven by need. He had to have Emma, had to do whatever it took to please her.

Pete pushed his panties down, climbed on Brad and started to bounce. Brad kept sucking, his cheeks pulled in, making moaning sounds. “You’re so pretty,” Pete mocked, “and so good at sucking.”

Brad didn’t care. He was inside Pete now, sucking on his thumb, Pete riding him, hard, and he reached his arms up over his head, arching his back while Pete slammed onto him and then he felt himself explode and Pete sighed as he came, and then they collapsed next to each other, silvery breath clouding the air above them as they gasped, panted.

Brad put an arm over Pete’s waist, started to spoon him, but Pete pushed him off, getting up, pulling his panties up, fixing his clothes. Brad watched, confused. “What’s wrong?” He said.

“Nothing,” Pete said. “I got what I wanted. Be good, babe.”

And with that he walked off, leaving a confused and angry Brad laying on his back, wondering what had just happened— and what he would need to do to get another roll in the hay with that incredible girl. He noticed a scarp of paper on the ground. “I think you dropped these,” Brad said, looking at the numbers on the scrap.

“What?” Pete patted his pockets as he walked back, realizing he’d dropped the code from Daba. “Oh, thanks.”

“What are these coordinates?” Brad said, glad to have found a chance to spend more time with Emma, to have a chance to get in her good graces. He’d never had sex like that before, and it scared him but he wanted it more— a lot more, even though he was pretty sure Emma had made him her girl.

“Coordinates?” Pete said, taking the piece of paper.

“Yeah. Those are coordinates.  Like map coordinates. Boy Scouts,” Brad said. “I have a badge for this.”

“Of course you do,” Pete said. “Get dressed, doll. I need your help with this.”

Brad got up, got his pants pulled up. Pete had an impulse and took off his beret, putting it on Brad’s head. “I think you should wear this,”he said, giggling.

Brad grimaced. “Really?”

“Yeah. You look cute.” Pete grabbed Brad’s hand and dragged him to the parking lot, then unlocked the passenger door for him and held it. Pete was totally getting into the whole reversal thing. Brad, blushing, knowing some of the other kids in the lot saw him wearing Emma’s girly beret, got in, hunching over, trying to hide.

Pete smiled and closed the door, then went around and got in the driver’s seat.

It was Pete, Fiona and Brad gathered around the coffee table in Fiona’s basement. They’d found an old map, and Brad was locating the coordinates. He slipped the beret off, but not until Fiona had given him some shit about it. “And those coordinates are— here.” Brad said, pointing to a spot on the map.

“That looks like nothing,” Pete said.

“Yeah. It’s just green and squiggly lines.”

“It’s a hilltop in the woods outside town,” Brad said. “Actually, that’s a campground. Closed for the winter. So, what’s this all about?”

“Don’t worry your pretty little head about it,” Pete said, mussing Brad’s hair.

“So what next?” Fiona said.

“I guess we go there. Maybe there’s another clue or something.”

“Can I come with?” Brad said.

Pete looked at Fiona. She shrugged. “Why not? Maybe we will need him to lift something?”

“Okay,” Pete said. “You come, too.”

The sun was going down as they parked outside the chained off entrance to Camp L’amour. The air temperature was dropping, dropping, and the dark, low hanging clouds threatened snow. The air smelled like winter. Brad had the map, and he was leading them along, their three flashlights cutting back and forth against the dirt path, when the klaxons back at town sounded.

“Tornados?” Fiona said.

“It doesn’t seem like tornado weather,” Brad said.

“Let’s just go,” Pete said. His feeling of dread was growing, like something terrible was about to happen, or maybe was happening back in his own time. They had to press forward. As they reached the top the hill, the blazing remnants of the sun were still smoldering in the western sky. They looked around, standing close together in the dying light.

“Nothing,” Pete said, kicking the ground. Hitting something hard. “Wait. There’s something here.” He kicked at the ground again, seeing something hard and flat beneath the grass. “Brad,” he said. “Clear this off.”

Brad did as he was told. Cleaning the earth away, revealing a stone tablet implanted in the ground. There were letters carved into the tablet. Some were in a strange, unknown language, but beneath in what looked like fresher carvings, were Roman letters that spelled out Daba.

The three of them crouched around the tablet. “Daba,” Pete said. “We already knew that.”

“I didn’t,” Brad said.

“It doesn’t mean anything,” Fiona said.

“A dead end?”

High above them, a squadron of jets cur across the now starry sky, leaving their trails cutting across the blackness. The klaxons still sounded. Brad’s digging had made him a little sweaty, and his manly musk was swimming in the air, filling the heads of Fiona and Pete with thoughts.  Without anyone speaking it out loud, Fiona and Pete climbed onto Brad, pushing him down, kissing and caressing him, pulling each other’s clothes off, all three of them writing and moaning and kissing and touching…

Soft moans and panting, bodies writhing, steam rising from their hot, sweaty bodies in the frigid air…. When it ended they lay tangled in each other’s arms… Pete realized something. He had found himself thinking about the tablet. “We’re supposed to read the tablet. Here.”

“All it says is Daba.”

“It’s a chant,” Pete said. “A summons.”

“How do you know?”

“I just do.”

Still naked, starting to shiver, he found a flashlight, found the stone. He was kneeling in front of it, pushing his hair to the side. But then, he realized something. “I don’t care,” he said. “I don’t want to go back.”

“Really?” Fiona said, though she wasn’t sure she’d ever believed Emma’s crazy time travel story.

Pete reached out and cupped Fiona’s soft cheek. “I want to stay here with you. Friends forever. We’ll go everywhere. Climb mountains. Live!”

“Really?” Fiona said, touched.

“I love you,” Pete said, even as he realized it for the first time. “I’ll do anything for you.”

Fiona found herself crying. Ugly crying. She reached out and gathered Pete into her arms. It was good to have one true friend. Neither of them heard the sound of the Soviet missile approaching, and they were barely aware of the explosive crack. The nuclear missile detonated right above them, and they died holding each other, feeling only love.