When I woke up on January first, nothing had seemed particularly off to me. I woke up earlier than I meant to. Since school was out for winter break, so I didn't have any reason to keep an alarm set for another two weeks. I eventually dragged myself out of bed after a bit of scrolling through social media, and while my feed was a little different than usual (primarily a far smaller number of internet women advertising their body in places that were...intrusive), I didn't think much of it.
I stared out my window, looking out at the snow that had blanketed the neighborhood, still nude and very glad that I wasn't going to have to do any shoveling today. Eventually, though, the cold started to get to me, so I went to shower, brushed my teeth and get dressed.
That was the first major difference that I noticed.
My shirts were a bit different in cut than the ones I usually wore. Rather than the men's shirts I was used to, whose collars settled just above the collarbone, these shirts' necklines now plunged down far more significantly, stopping somewhere around the middle of the breastbone and revealing far more of my neck and collarbone.
Have my shirts really become this worn out?
It was possible, I supposed. I didn't like throwing out my shirts, so I surmised that the stress of wearing them out loosened their collars. Most of them were purchased from various live performances of different bands I liked. I tried to get a tour shirt whenever my dad took me to see one, so a lot of them held sentimental value to me. The rest were gifts from friends, depicting symbolism from various video games or fiction novels I enjoyed.
I rarely bought my own shirts.
My sweatpants were still the same, luckily. I slipped some on, deciding to go commando today, despite the early morning chill. Forgoing underwear always felt nicer to me, so I did so whenever I didn't feel like it would be too cold to attempt it. After getting dressed, I slipped some socks on and headed downstairs for breakfast.
Once I had whipped myself up a few pancakes from some shitty "premade: just add water" pancake mix, I topped it with a bit of butter and slowly ate them as I watched some inane gaming video on my phone. Once again, nothing particularly struck me as odd, YouTube seemed as I remembered it, but the video was just some indie side-scrolling combat platformer. There was a term for that type of game, but I couldn't be bothered to remember it.
"Good morning, Jason," my mother greeted me, stepping into the room. I glanced up at her and gave her a smile, which she returned. Her dark hair was done in a loose ponytail to keep it out of her face, showing off her pale skin and green eyes. I'd like to say I inherited them, but unfortunately, I didn't. My dad's grey eyes weren't too bad, though.
"Morning, Mom," I yawned a bit as I returned her greeting.
She snorted. "Did you even brush your hair this morning?"
"Would it make a difference?" I replied dryly, raking my hands through the charcoal-black mane that fell down practically to my shoulders. My hair was eternally messy, especially when I didn't bother to cut it for months at a time, which I often didn't, because I liked to keep my ears warm, and I liked running my hands through my hair. It always felt nice.
It did get me a couple of comments about looking kind of like Harry Potter once or twice, but most people didn't immediately notice the resemblance.
I was lucky I didn't need glasses.
"I suppose not," she said as she moved towards the kitchen, mussing my hair lightlyas she passed me. I pulled away from her halfheartedly, but I really didn't mind it all that much.
She began cooking some pancakes of her own, softly humming some tune I vaguely recognized. Probably some song she heard on the radio.
"Is dad up yet?" I asked, turning partially towards her so that she could hear me.
She laughed. "You know your dad's not really a morning person."
"He doesn't have work today, then?"
"Of course not, honey, we both took two weeks off. We go back to work on Monday," she reminded me. I nodded my head, pretending I remembered that she told me in the first place.
My parents both worked for a fairly popular fashion chain, generally catering to more fashion-minded middle and upper class people. They had met each other in college while interning at some other company. My mom always liked to recount the story of how they had met to nearly anyone that would listen. It had to do with my dad jumping down a flight of stairs to try to rescue someone's dog that had slipped down the steps. It was a cute story, but after hearing it a hundred times, it can become exhausting to hear over and over.
"You aren't usually a morning person, either," she mentioned. I could feel her suspicious gaze on the back of my head as I continued to eat. "What's got you up so early?"
I didn't really have an answer to that, so I just shrugged. "Woke up. Didn't feel like going back to sleep."
"Hmm," she responded, playfully suspicious, but quickly moved on. "Any plans today?"
"Not that I know of," I responded blithely. I was feeling a bit more energetic than usual, though. I didn't feel like curling up with one of my fantasy novels or playing some video game with friends like I usually would on a cold day.
Maybe the ski slopes aren't too crowded?
"You think the ski resorts are gonna be packed today?" I asked my mom.
"Thinking of going snowboarding again?" She inquired while she transferred the cooked pancakes onto a plate with a spatula.
"If it isn't too crowded."
"Mm," she hummed, digging around in the pantry for the maple syrup. "Do you think you'll need some extra money for the lift ticket?"
"It certainly wouldn't hurt," I grinned brightly at my her. She snorted amusedly, giving me a fond-but-exasperated look before searching for the syrup bottle again.
After another minute of scouring the pantry, my mother gave up her search. "Do you know where the syrup is, Jason?"
I shrugged. "Might be in the fridge," I offered. Dad sometimes stored condiments there, most likely so they wouldn't turn sour. I've still never seen maple syrup or ketchup go bad, but I also never cared enough to ask him what his reasons were.
"Ah, found it!" my mother cried victoriously, pulling the bottle out of the back of the refrigerator. She wasted no tone in opening the cap and drowning the pancakes in syrup. I gave her a quick thumbs up, still focused primarily on my food.
"I'm going to take this to your father real quick," she told me, gesturing with the full plate of pancakes, "then I'll give you some cash for the ticket and lunch. Just make sure to be back before it gets too dark."
"I will," I told her indulgently. The resort usually closed at four anyways, and I would probably be too exhausted to go anywhere else, anyway. I'd most likely just come back home and continue reading the new fantasy novel I got for Christmas.
Mom slipped away to her bedroom to deliver the pancakes, and I cleaned up my plate, rinsing it off in the sink before I washed my hands and face briskly. I dried my hands on a hand towel near the sink and slipped away towards my room to get ready for my trip. The nearest resort was still forty-five minutes away, and the longer I waited, the less time I would have on the slopes.
I changed into one of the tighter pairs of sweats I owned, slipped on some snow socks and grabbed my snow gear, dragging it all out of my room and piling it by the front door. My snowboard was already in the garage, so I could easily load that into my car last. After I set everything down, I walked back to the kitchen, expecting to see my mother there, but she had already disappeared, leaving only some cash and a note that told me to have fun and not to go on the black diamond slopes or do anything similarly dangerous.
Right. Like I'm even that good at snowboarding.
I walked over to her and Dad's room, and I was about to knock and say I was leaving and would be back by dinner, but the muffled noises from the door made me reconsider my decision. Instead, I quietly walked away and gathered up my stuff, heading out to the garage.
I smiled sardonically to myself.
At least their marriage is going strong.
I tossed all of my gear into the backseat of the new black Sonata that my parents got me for my sixteenth birthday. It was a nicer car than I had honestly expected to get, since it's usually not a great idea to get a teenager a new car (I had seen what kind of accidents some of my friends had gotten into with their cars, and I would bet money that their parents were very glad that they had bought their kids cheap, used cars), but my parents had bought it so that they could also have a nice, new cruiser whenever they felt like taking it for a spin, and ownership of the car would only be legally transferred to me after I moved out.
The drive up was relaxing. There weren't as many people as I had expected there to be this early, probably because it was a holiday. The snow had already been cleared off of all the streets, so I had few problems on the drive up the mountain. Finding a good parking spot was a little annoying, though, since the resort was pretty popular today. I decided to park near the back, since it was less crowded, even if it was a longer haul to and from the car.
I opened the back door, pulled on my snow pants and jacket, slipped on and tightened down my snow boots, grabbed my board and helmet and locked the car, walking towards the slopes. The snow was still fresh, which meant that I wouldn't be trying to snowboard in slush, so I was in a great mood as I scanned my pass and went to sit down at one of the benches and finish getting ready.
The slopes looked pristine, I noticed as I slipped my ski mask and gloves on. The uniform, powdery-white hills gleamed beautifully, broken up only by the swaths of rich, dark green pine trees cutting their way across the mountain. I couldn't imagine smoother conditions for snowboarding.
I'm still gonna end up on my ass like half the time, aren't I?
I admired my snowboard for a bit—a Burton, muted blue with red and white designs inspired by ancient Roman and cultish art, such as a wreath, a skull with a snake slithering out of its eye socket, stylized crossbones framed by lit candles and arrows, and the brand name in gothic script across the underside. It was well-used, and well-kept, easily one of my most prized possessions. I had purchased it after finally pulling off my first three-sixty back when I was using an old hand-me-down board from a friend's mother.
Deciding I had wasted enough time, I strapped in one of my boots, placed my goggles over my eyes and slid over to the line for the first ski lift, ready to tear up the mountain.
No one rode with me on the lift, so I sat in silence, anticipating the first downhill run the whole time. As soon as I hopped off, I barely even slowed down, strapping in my back foot to its binding as I slid around the bend to the edge of the slope and leaned forward, letting gravity pull me down the mountainside.
I could feel the grin on my face already.
Oh, I've missed this.
I picked up speed quickly, accelerating down the hillside with a carefree laugh. I zipped down the mountain as quickly as I could, feeling the wind on my face through my ski mask, making as few turns as I possibly could until I reached a narrower, more uneven section of the slope, at which point I had to start controlling my speed with languid, carving S-turns so I could navigate the more difficult terrain without accidentally catching an edge and falling over.
The bumpy, packed snow wasn't exactly the most pleasant terrain to snowboard down, but I had managed to carve through without getting thrown around, and the snow became much smoother again. I bent my knees to pick up a bit more speed, before pulling up my front foot, lifting the front of my board off of the ice, springing off the ground using the back of the board and twisting around, landing a clean frontside one-eighty. I bent my knees a bit on impact as the landing made me pick up more speed.
Hey, that's better than I thought I would do.
The backside one-eighty wasn't nearly as clean.
I rode switch for a bit, trying to clean up my S-curves and hone my control over my non-dominant side, since I needed the experience, before trying to perform a backside one-eighty, and caught an edge on the landing, nearly sending me tumbling end-over-end. I recovered before I could, but found that the snow had adjusted my trajectory when I caught the edge, throwing me towards a large pine tree on the side of the slope. I had to stop entirely so I wouldn't end up in the wooded areas.
One of my classmate's relatives apparently died falling down a tree well, and I had no plans of doing the same, thank you very much.
I waited until the ski trail had merged with the bunny hills near the bottom to practice a few more one-eighties, all of which I landed way more cleanly than that first backside. Eventually, though, I reached the bottom of the hill, and I had to stop and rejoin the line for the ski lifts to get another go.
The next couple of runs were pretty uneventful. I didn't really talk to anyone that sat on the lift with me—not beyond the barest hint of polite conversation, anyway—and I didn't have any more spills on my warmup runs, so I was finally ready to hit the parks.
The park was a lot less bumpy than some of the downhill trails, but it was still far from easy. Boxes, rails, ramps and jumps littered the slope, and a giant halfpipe sat at the center of it all, looming over the entire park.
I'd like to say I immediately went try the halfpipe, but unfortunately, I'm not quite that brave.
I started off with the boxes, just practicing my jumps, exits and landings, doing slides, grinds, and one-eighties as I practiced at a leisurely pace, enjoying the smooth slides and clean jumps and transitions I was doing. It's hard to explain, but just the feeling of improving at something is satisfying.
Then I decided to hit the jumps.
I unbuckled my back boot, pushed myself over to the first hill, strapped my back foot back in, brushed the extra snow off my jacket, took a deep breath to center myself, and then pushed.
I accelerated as hard as I could before I reached the ramp so I would have enough airtime to perform a trick and stick the landing cleanly. I bent down further, pressing down a bit on my toe edge to keep only a thin point of contact on the snow and pick up even more speed.
Hitting the ramp was jarring. I felt like I barely even had time to prepare myself, let alone springboard off the edge of the jump before I was suddenly in the air. I decided to just do a frontside grab instead of any of the fancier spins or anything like that. It was the first jump of the day, and I wasn't prepared to do a spin from the get-go, so trying halfway through the air would only end with me eating snow.
Even though I only did a basic grab, the landing was still tricky. Landings always are, honestly. I had to keep my board as still and level as possible as I landed, since an odd angle or sideways momentum could easily throw me face-first into the ground, and even after I successfully stuck the landing, I had to account for the increase in speed after I hit the ground without losing control.
Jumps aren't easy.
Impacting the snow with a muted thud, I landed cleanly and leaned into the speed increase in preparation for the next jump. It came at me even faster than the last one, but I was prepared for it this time. With a spring and a twist, I threw myself high into the air and spun around in a beautifully executed three-sixty, getting a quick panoramic view of the gorgeous scenery as I did. I adjusted my momentum once I completed the turn, righting my board for another clean landing, and gaining even more momentum.
The final ramp was even bigger than the other two, so I wanted to see how high I could jump. If I could get enough air, I could go for something a little more complex than just a three-sixty, which was the most advanced trick I could perform consistently at this point.
Flinging myself skyward off of the final jump, I twisted into a frontside spin as I was launched incredibly high into the air. It was probably the highest I had ever jumped; I felt like I would never come down. I grabbed the board on the toe edge and pulled it closer to me, spinning my body to the left as hard as I could.
I spun fast. The world whipped by my eyes as I flew through the air, all blurred together. My adrenaline was pounding, and I checked to see how close the ground was. I had already passed the apex of my jump before I completed my first three-sixty, so I wasn't confident I could complete a seven-twenty with this little air left. I'd have to settle for a five-forty.
As soon as I completed my next half-turn, I pulled my body straight just before I landed, leveling my board and facing cleanly forward. I bent my knees in preparation for the impact, and landed weightily on the snow, just barely keeping my board under control as I did.
Not bad for landing switch.
Taking a moment to pop another one-eighty so I didn't have to deal with both riding faster than I had ever rode before and having my non-dominant foot forward at the same time, I carved languidly down to the bottom of the hill without any further incident beyond nearly running into a couple people while tearing down the beginner's slope at the end of the trail. All in all, it was a pretty successful run.
I hadn't noticed until now, but a couple of hours had already passed, and the mountain had become far more crowded than it was when I arrived. Between that and my stomach demanding food, I decided to take a break for lunch. The halfpipe could wait until afterwards.
The lodge was impressively large, befitting of such a popular ski resort. The first floor dealt with gear and tickets, and was rather crowded at the moment. I had to squeeze past a couple families while trying to reach the stairs to the second floor, where the cafeteria resided.
Once there, I stood just outside the line, looking through the menus and trying to decide what I was in the mood for. I eventually decided on just grabbing a philly cheesesteak, figuring that the beef and veggies would help me keep up my energy and keep me warm when I went back out on the slopes, and added a side of fries, because fuck it, why not? I was gonna burn it all off on the slopes anyways, and I worked out regularly, so I wasn't too worried about the occasional unhealthy side.
I should probably stop trying to justify my bad choices.
Oh, well.
I made a mental note to work harder on the slopes after lunch.
The sandwich was ready pretty quickly, since there weren't many other people eating lunch right now. The lunch rush probably wouldn't be for another hour, so I sat quietly at an empty table and ate slowly, enjoying my food as I scrolled through some webpage about snowboarding tips and tricks, since the subject was on my mind. I had mostly tuned everything else out, only looking up to admire the scenery outside the wall-to-wall window I was facing.
About halfway through my sandwich, I set my phone down to run my fingers through my hair, so that it didn't feel so pressed down. It was no less wild than before, but a couple hours of snowboarding had really matted down my hair, and the feeling of it tended to get on my nerves.
As I stretched, trying to work out the kinks in my back, one hand still on the back of my head, I heard some giggling off to my right. I glanced over, and I noticed a few girls in snow gear whispering and laughing to themselves. After a couple seconds, they all looked over at me and then quickly turned away once they noticed I was looking back, before breaking out into another round of whispers and giggles. One looked back at me again, a tanned brunette with freckles, and I gave her a polite smile before turning back to my food.
I had no plans to get involved any further, since getting the attention of a pack of girls was usually trouble, in my experience. From what I'd seen, they either thought the guy was cute and wouldn't approach them, or they would want something from him, or just want to make fun of him, and would send one of them to approach him, having her scout him out, or they would all come at him in a group. Either way, it was probably a bad idea to try and attract their attention on purpose.
Unfortunately, it seemed that they had already decided on messing with me.
Even from where I sat, I could hear a whispered, "Come on! Go!" from the girls' table. I glanced over, and the one who looked at me, the freckled one, was seemingly being pressured by the others to go talk to me. She looked obviously hesitant, maybe even nervous, and had to be continuously badgered by her friends to actually get out of her chair and come talk to me. I listened passively, pretending to not notice, but she eventually caved to her friends with a sigh and got up to talk to me.
She walked over to the seat opposite mine, but rather than sitting down or leaning over, she kind of just stood there awkwardly for a few seconds. I nodded politely at her, trying to keep any of my thoughts from showing on my face, and instead took that bit of time to study hers.
Her brown, somewhat curly hair seemed a little bit frazzled, but I supposed that was expected since we were all wearing helmets before we ate lunch. Her face was decently attractive, with a cute nose and high cheekbones, and was spattered heavily with freckles. Her lips were chapped, and she might have had a bit of acne and slightly uneven teeth, but overall, she looked quite decent. I couldn't really see much of her figure, since she was wearing thick snow gear, but she didn't look significantly overweight or anything like that. I'd have to see her in more normal clothes to get a better understanding of what kind of shape she was in. Her snow gear looked brand new, so she probably was a beginner. This may have even been her first time skiing. If so, her friends probably invited her here.
"Hi," she started. "You, uh, just come from the slopes?"
I blinked. I don't know if I could have thought of a more awkward attempt at a normal conversation if I tried. Regardless, I didn't want to seem super prickly, so I tried to keep things cordial.
"Yeah, a little bit ago," I told her. "I'll probably be out there for a couple more hours after I finish lunch."
"That's cool," she responded lamely, glancing back at her friends with a strange look that I couldn't really place. I followed her line of sight discretely, trying not to make it obvious that I was also watching her friends. They were giving her some weird, almost supportive-looking gestures, like a thumbs-up or an encouraging fist pump. It looked a little strange, to be honest. It definitely wasn't what I was expecting from them. Maybe they still were making fun of me, but were just better at hiding it? Usually, their mischievous giggling was a little more obvious.
"So, why'd you come talk to me?" I asked, probably a little more bluntly than I intended. I didn't want to sound rude or hostile, but I had seen quite a few instances of girls making fun of guys by leading them on like this, or trying to butter them up to extort something out of them. I had even heard of a case where a girl got some blackmail on some rich kid and basically drained his wallet dry for a few months.
She lost her uneasy smile, looking distinctly unconfident as she fidgeted in place. I suppose I had been a bit more hostile than I intended.
"I'm sorry," I told her remorsefully. "I didn't mean to sound so standoffish. Wasn't my intention."
"Oh, okay. It's not a problem," she responded, though she still looked a little uneasy. "Listen, I just think you're…well, you're really cute, and I wanted you to know that."
The words weren't incredibly surprising to me, but the tone of her voice threw me for a loop. When girls tried to butter up guys, usually they tried to sound forward and flirty, but this girl was god-awful at it. I could literally hear her trying to keep the stutter out of her voice, like she was a freshman trying to ask out someone way out of their league.
"Thank you," I responded neutrally. I didn't know where this was going, so I decided it was probably best to not be rude, but I was still a little wary.
Apparently, this was the wrong move. What little remained of her confidence crumpled like paper. "I'm sorry, I can tell I'm bothering you, I'll just go," she sulked dejectedly, turning to scamper off back to her friends. Something in her body language felt really genuine, and I felt bad hurting her feelings when I really had no reason to.
Plus, she was still cute. I liked her freckles.
"Wait," I told her, freezing her in her tracks. She whipped her head around to look back at me, her eyes brimming with hope. I gave her a gentle smile. "Here, sit down. Let's talk."
Her expression flipped around immediately. She smiled brightly, quickly coming to sit down. Now that I really looked at her, she didn't seem like she was trying to mess with me, just that she wanted to talk to me and didn't know how to go about it. Almost like she was afraid of being rejected. Her friends seemed to be cheering as well. It was kind of odd, really. I still couldn't tell if they were messing with one or both of us, but Freckles seemed like an honest person, at least.
"You here with your friends?" I asked her noncommittally. She nodded, pointing over to the two girls she was talking with.
"Yeah. They go skiing more often than I do. I'm still a beginner, so they're helping me learn," she told him.
"That's cool," I responded. You ski or snowboard?"
"I'm learning to ski. Apparently snowboarding's hard to get into," she shrugged.
"It is, yeah," I agreed. It had me a lot longer to get the hang of snowboarding than it had taken one of my old friends to get the hang of skiing, and he always gave me shit about it. I probably wouldn't have gotten as good as I had at it if I didn't want to get past him giving me shit about it. It was too bad he moved away, since I couldn't show him how far I'd progressed since we began.
I should probably invite him to come back up to Seattle on vacation sometime. Maybe over spring break.
"Ah, so you snowboard?"
I nodded. "Yeah, I do. It's a lot of fun, but you do have to get past that initial learning curve."
"Maybe, uh, do you think you could show me some tricks after lunch? I haven't gone past the bunny hill, but I can try, I think I've got the basics down," she began to ramble.
"Well, hold on," I interjected. "I don't even know your name yet. I'm Jason, nice to meet you," I offered my hand out for her to shake.
"Mabel. It's nice to meet you too." She took my hand, her hazel eyes sparkling. She looked fairly nerdy, and probably a few years older than me. Maybe she was a college student, but she had a lot less confidence than I would usually imagine in a cute college girl. She seemed the bookish type, probably a little lonely and in need of getting out of her dorm more often, but usually girls with decent faces usually were more confident and choosier about what guys they decided to talk to, whereas even decently attractive guys could have some confidence issues.
Take me, for example. I look good, in my humble opinion, but I also know I'm not the traditional male ideal, given my more aristocratic, mildly feminine/pretty boy features, slim figure and longer, wild hair. I definitely looked like I wouldn't be too out of place in the punk scene, though I lacked the piercings and eyeliner to really pull off that look. I was decently confident in my ability to strike up conversations, but if I didn't bring forward a good amount of confidence, I would be an easy target to be picked on, similar to what I had thought would happen just now.
However, I already had plans, and I didn't want them to be interrupted by someone who already had friends here, so I was going to have to let her down, if she was looking to spend time with me. I paid good money for my pass, after all, and I was going to use it.
"Unfortunately, I'm gonna be in the park the rest of the day, so I won't be able to spend too much time with you today. I want to practice the half-pipe." Her face noticeably fell, and I felt a little bad about rejecting her, even if I let her down easy. "I'll tell you what, though. We can keep talking until I finish my food, and maybe I'll give you my number so we can come hang out here another day. Sound good?"
"Uh, yeah, sure!" she replied cheerfully, if a bit hesitantly. I took another bite of my sandwich as she thought of what to say. After a bit of mulling, she finally decided to ask me something.
"So, uh, is it rude to ask how old you are?"
I shrugged, swallowing my food. "I'm legal, if that's what you're asking," I skirted the truth. I was seventeen, and the legal age for consent in Washington was sixteen, but I couldn't exactly vote. "I'm not old enough to drink, but I imagine you're barely old enough to drink either," I teased a little. Hopefully, she wasn't the type to be offended at my teasing. I know I can sometimes come off as abrasive, even when I don't mean to be.
Luckily, she didn't seem to take offense. "Yeah, I turned twenty-one a couple months back."
I nodded. "You're in college, I assume? What's your major?"
"Anthropology. I like studying cultures and stuff," she shrugged.
"That's cool," I responded politely. "What do you think you're going to work in?"
"I don't know," she admitted. "Working in a museum sounds cool, but I might just want to write books on, like, historical cultures of different nations and stuff. Maybe a teacher, but I don't know how good of a teacher I'd be. Plus, like, I might have to get a PhD for that, so that's a lot of money."
"Yeah, probably," I agreed. "You read a lot of books? Are you big into fiction, or do you stick to non-fiction?"
"Mostly non-fiction. Never really got into like, fantasy or anything like that."
"Ah, I much prefer fantasy," I admitted, chuckling. "Non-fiction is usually too dry for me. It can't hold my attention for very long."
"Oh, well," she shrugged. "Guess we can't have everything in common."
"That's fine. So long as you enjoy reading next to the fireplace, we'll probably get along," I told her. Admittedly, I had no clue if I actually wanted to be in a relationship with her, but she seemed nice enough, and she thought I was cute, so that had to count for something.
She smiled at me happily, like she was grateful that I was as receptive as I was, which I found weird. Sure, I was being flirty just to flirt—it was fun, after all—but I was expecting her to play coy, not look like I was making her day.
Well, as long as she's happy, I guess.
Mabel looked like she was fumbling for a way to keep the conversation going, so I decided to give her one.
"Your friends there look like they're rooting for you," I pointed out with a tilt of my head. "They've been staring at us for a while, y'know. What'd they tell you?" I pressed teasingly, still fishing to see her real intentions just a little.
"Oh, just some girl talk, y'know," she laughed it off awkwardly. "Nothing real important."
"Come on, you can tell me," I smiled easily, hoping to look as likeable and trustworthy as possible. "I won't be mad or anything, I'm just curious."
"It's dumb, don't worry about it," she deflected, unable to meet my eyes as she began to blush.
"Hm," I played up my musing a bit. "I'll tell you what. Lean in real quick," I told her, leaning forward above the table to whisper in her ear. She tilted forward eagerly, clearly wanting to see what I had to say, from the look in her eyes. I smiled mischievously.
"Tell me what they said, and I'll give you something you want."
I was thinking about giving her my number and promising her a date to somewhere decently upscale, but the rosy blush spreading across her face her face either told me that whatever her friends told her was pretty embarrassing, or that whatever she wanted from me was potentially very embarrassing.
One look into her eyes, and I knew I had her.
"Alright, fine," she murmured. "It was just some dumb stuff about, like, how you were kinda cute and that they were saying I should try to…like…" she hesitated, glancing around and lowering her voice to a whisper, "score with you."
I was shocked. That was not what I expected to hear from her. To be honest, I didn't think girls were nearly that forward regarding sex at all, even with their friends. Mabel clearly noticed my surprise, too, because she almost immediately started backtracking.
"I wouldn't do that to you, of course, I know that's rude! I'm not asking you to do anything like that! I just want to know if we could just get dinner or something," she rambled on for a few seconds before I cut her off by pressing a finger to her lips.
"Relax, Mabel," I told her, trying to smile reassuringly. "I'm not mad, I promise. I get it, it's just your friends messing with you."
Mabel visibly calmed down, trying to compose herself a bit so she could recover the conversation and bring it back to a more normal topic. Maybe she thought she could still salvage her chances with me? I didn't really know why she thought I'd be offended at her friends teasing her, though.
Regardless, I knew what was on her mind now, so I figured I might as well pounce on that opportunity just to see what happened. Worst case, I struck out and I'd still be single. I'd just finish my sandwich, go back on the mountain and never see her again.
The upside was much higher. I was willing to take the chance.
"But I can still tell you're thinking about it," I teased, my smile becoming more devilish. It was very satisfying watching her blush return so fiercely. I stood up slowly, leaning fully across the table to whisper the question I had on the tip of my tongue into her ear.
"Do you want to?"
She shivered, swallowing nervously.
"Are you…do you mean it?" Mabel whispered, sounding almost…hopeful for some reason. It was an odd reaction, especially for someone who seemed rather reserved, but hey, if she was thirsty, I was willing to show her a good time.
"I do," I whispered in response. "There's a family bathroom on the other side of the building, it's not used too often. Head in there, keep the door unlocked, and act like you're just washing your hands or face. After a minute or two, I'll join you."
"You promise? You aren't, like, messing with me or anything?" she asked nervously. Again, an odd reaction. Usually, I was the one who thought like that. I'd never heard of a situation where guys were promising girls that they'd have sex with them and then going back on their word.
"I promise," I told her seriously, setting my hand over my heart.
Mabel nodded, blushing furiously. She stiffly stood, pushed her chair in and walked hurriedly to where I said the bathroom was. I sat back down and wolfed down the rest of my now-slightly-cold sandwich, taking a swig of water, and heading to that bathroom myself, bringing the water bottle with me.
Given what I was about to be doing, I had a feeling I'd need it.
Opening the door just wide enough to enter the bathroom, I slid inside and closed and locked the door with an audible click. Mabel quickly looked up from the sink, locking eyes with me through the mirror. I gave her a sultry grin, slowly walking up behind her. She never once took her eyes off of me as I did.
It was a bit of an ego boost, I'll admit.
"Sit on the toilet lid," I whispered the command into her ear before trailing a small line of kisses down her neck. Mabel shivered, blushing brightly, the red of her cheeks likely compounded by the cold. She leaned into me, not wanting to move while I was giving her so much attention. I had to pull my lips off of her neck and swat her ass lightly to actually get her to do what I wanted.
She shuffled over to the toilet, shedding her jacket and leaving it on the toilet paper dispenser. I dropped to my knees and pulled off her boots, setting them off to the side before I hooked my thumbs into the sides of her waistband and slid them down slowly, so that she could feel the sensation of the cold air slowly come into contact with her bare skin.
Her anxious shivers were wonderful to watch.
I pulled her pants off entirely and shed my own jacket before I took a good, long look at her pussy. She clearly hadn't shaved in a while, but it was a nice color, a proper hot pink that absolutely glistened with her juices. Her clit poked out stiffly at the top of her sex, begging for my attention. The whole thing was surrounded by a thick bush of coarse, milk chocolate colored hair that dipped down past her taint and probably ringed her asshole, but I couldn't see that all that clearly. She smelled a little fishy, but it was honestly fairly mild.
"Sorry, I haven't shaved in a while. I wasn't, uh, expecting…" Mabel trailed off, a little mortified.
"It's fine," I assuaged her, waving her off. "It's winter, I get it."
Before she could respond, I dove into her dripping pussy, giving it a long, thorough lick. Her legs jerked suddenly, and her breath hitched. My tongue began to circle her labia, coating everything in my spit, before I closed in on her clit, swirling my tongue around it quickly, seeing what kind of reactions I could draw from her.
Mabel's hips bucked into my mouth, and before I could get too predictable, I shifted back down to her hole, shoving my tongue into her slowly before I began exploring her insides thoroughly, trying to see where else she was especially sensitive. Fortunately for me, it seemed to be nearly everywhere, as she was bucking and thrashing her hips the entire time I attended to her cunt, whether I used quick swirls of my tongue to stimulate her clit or long, sensual strokes across her vulva and deep inside her hole.
She had to bite down on her hand to muffle her moans, her legs twitching all the while as I continued to pleasure her to the best of my ability. It didn't take her too long to orgasm, and her tangy juices flooded into my mouth as she squealed into her hand, her hips bucking desperately into my face. I swallowed what I could, but I was primarily focused on dragging my tongue across her g-spot to make her orgasm as pleasurable as possible, and some of it was definitely dripping down my chin.
I didn't stop eating her out after she came down from her orgasm, though I did tone down the intensity to let her regain her bearings. My tongue didn't feel that bad, so I figured I could make her orgasm at least once more before it became too difficult to continue.
"Mmh…th-thannnk youuuuu," she moaned out wantonly as I continued to explore her soaked pussy with my tongue. The naked lust and gratitude in her voice was incredibly sexy, and the knowledge that I was the one causing her to feel that way was a heady rush of pride and arousal. My cock strained against my pants, practically demanding that I pull it out and bury it as deep as I could inside her.
Unfortunately, fucking her here would most definitely cause a scene, and probably get us arrested. And even if it didn't, the sex would wear out my hips and make the rest of my time snowboarding a lot more miserable.
Oh, well. Another time, I suppose.
I redoubled my efforts, putting my all into bringing her to another orgasm before we could be found out and kicked out of the resort. I extended my tongue as deep into her hole as I could, intent on stimulating every nerve that my tongue my tongue could reach. Mabel seemed more responsive than in round one, possibly due to her recent orgasm making her vagina extra-sensitive. One of her hands was still being used to dampen her moans, but the other was now gripping the back of my head, trying its damndest to pull me even deeper into her sex.
I would have grinned in satisfaction, but my mouth was still otherwise occupied.
A sudden knock on the door startled us both. Mabel practically jumped off of her seat, and I had to physically stop myself from whipping my head around to look at the door. I knew I locked it, so I had no real reason to worry, though Mabel still looked like a deer in a pickup truck's headlights.
She tried to sit up a bit more, despite my arms keeping her legs locked in place, and she cleared her throat quietly, obviously preparing to call out to whoever was knocking. A wicked idea formed in my mind—one that could get us both in serious trouble—but I was too turned-on not to try it. I got back to work, sensually teasing Mabel's drenched cunt.
"Hello?" a voice from the other side of the door floated into the bathroom.
"O-occupie-ahn!" Mabel's response devolved into a moan as I ground my tongue roughly against her clit, sending her into another orgasm just as she spoke. Another wave of her juices splashed across my tongue as I licked her deeply, and her legs were vibrating in my arms as her eyes practically rolled upward.
Damn, I'm good.
I heard footsteps walking away outside, and we heard no further response from the door, so I assumed we were in the clear for the moment. I pulled back and let Mabel recover for a bit. Her breaths and deep and shuddering, still clearly feeling the aftershocks of her orgasm, but she finally came down from her high enough to actually speak after a few moments.
"Fuck," she cursed breathlessly, glancing down at me. "You did that on purpose, didn't you?"
I grinned, trying to look innocent, but given how she looked at me, I probably failed. "Guilty," I shrugged. "You enjoyed it though, right?"
"You were fucking amazing," she intoned, her voice still the slightest bit shaky. "My friends are probably worried about where we went, though."
I nodded. "Alright. We'll make this last one quick, then."
"Wait, wha-ah!" she moaned as I began sucking on her clit. I swirled my tongue around her pink nub as I practically made out with it, forcing her to muffle her mouth with the crook of her elbow to stifle her moans, her other hand still gripping my head like she was holding on for dear life. Her hips were trying to cram her clit into my mouth as far as she could, like she was desperately trying to get as much pleasure out of it as she could. She was almost acting like a virgin guy getting his first deepthroat, practically humping my face in a way I found incredibly sexy.
I upped the ante by slipping two fingers inside her hole, quickly locating her g-spot in the frontal wall of her pussy and just going to town on it. Despite how she had muffled herself, her moans had only increased in volume, almost to the point where I was beginning to worry whether people passing by would hear her.
Oh, well. I'll finish her off quickly, either way.
"Mmh, mmmph!" she hummed erotically and desperately into her arm as I redoubled my efforts, really grinding against her weak points as best as I could. Under my best efforts, she couldn't last much longer; I could practically feel another orgasm build up inside her as she began to leak more and more fluids, coating my hand and running down my arm.
The entire round took just under a minute.
"MMMMMMMMMPH!" Mabel practically screamed into her arm as a third orgasm wracked through her whole body, her free leg shaking wildly all the while. Her hand on my head tightened to almost painful levels as she rode out her final climax of the session. I ground her g-spot slowly throughout her orgasm as her pussy contracted rhythmically around my fingers. All the while, I dutifully sucked her clit. I only released her from my touch after she slumped backwards bonelessly, falling back to earth from the heights of pleasure.
I pulled my hand out of her and stood up to give her forehead a kiss, pushing her bangs out of the way to do so. Her eyes were still hazy, and she was breathing heavily, like she had just run a mile straight and her lungs were trying their hardest to recoup as much oxygen as they could.
"Holy shit," Mabel breathed out shakily, still shivering with pleasure. She looked like she had just had her world rocked—her eyes were glassy, and a bit of drool was smeared across her mouth, as well as the arm that she used to cover it. It was a far better job than I had done on my ex, who was the only other woman I'd had any kind of sexual encounter with up to this point. She was the one who had taught me how to eat pussy in the first place, and it had apparently paid off, given the state of the woman I was staring at.
She looked past me, eyeing the door tiredly. "We're gonna be in so much trouble," she bemoaned.
"Eh, we'll be fine," I waved her off casually. "Besides, you enjoyed it, didn't you?"
Mabel just looked away from me, her cheeks reddening a bit further. "Yeah," she admitted, trying to keep some measure of composure, and obviously failing. I grinned, probably looking far too smug for my own good, but I had earned it, given what I had just done to the woman.
"Hey, I'm glad you had a good time," I told her sincerely. "But I wanna get back on the slopes before this place closes, so I'm gonna wash up and get out of here. Lock the door behind me, then you can clean yourself up and head out yourself." I washed my hands and mouth thoroughly, trying to get as much of her smell off of me as possible. Once satisfactorily clean, I threw my jacket back on, pulled on my boots and blew Mabel a kiss goodbye. She waved at me with an almost drunken half-smile before I slipped out of the bathroom, closing the heavy, wooden door behind me.
I couldn't wipe the stupid smile off of my face for the rest of the day.
I arrived back home after sunset, still pent-up from what I had done with Mabel, though all the exercise I had gotten on the halfpipe kept my erection at bay. I was definitely going to be sore tomorrow, both from snowboarding and kneeling on a bathroom floor for long periods of time. It was a shame I didn't get to fuck her, but I knew that I would have destroyed my hips and probably would have hurt myself badly once I went back out on the slopes.
Plus, we definitely would have been caught and kicked out if I also decided to fuck her in the public bathroom. What we did was already risky enough.
Oh, well. I'll probably just beat off once I'm not sore anymore.
It was too bad I hadn't gotten her number. She was decently cute, and she probably would have been down to sleep with me if she was willing to get eaten out in a public bathroom. I hadn't had sex since my ex and I broke up about a year ago, so today was a great ego boost.
Maybe I could find her on social media?
Hopefully, she wasn't too far away.
I found a plate of food wrapped in foil left on the dinner table for me. My parents had already eaten without me, apparently, but at least they were kind enough leave a plate out for when I got back. It was a simple meal, just some chicken and rice with gravy, but I quickly wolfed it down, absolutely starving after everything I'd done today. Once I finished my food, I rinsed off the dishes in the sink and placed them in the dishwasher before grabbing a bottle of water and heading upstairs to change out of my dirty clothes.
Closing and locking my door, I immediately stripped off my clothes, tossing them into my hamper as I cracked open my water bottle and took a long drink. I had gulped down about a third of it before I set it down on my nightstand and flopped onto my bed. Pulling my heavy mass of blankets over my nude body, I checked my phone, seeing no new alerts, and contemplated whether or not to text my friend about my day. I could have bragged to him about snowboarding and blowing a girl's mind in the lodge bathroom, but I was honestly just exhausted, and didn't really feel like dealing with him today. Instead, I ended up pulling up social media to try to find Mabel's account, but to no avail.
I noticed that my timeline looked somewhat weird. Nothing was too crazy, news seemed normal, just some basic international politics, cool cars and guns, snowboarding highlights, fantasy novel, show and video game discussions, but the fashion was kinda weird. I was following a few fashion accounts since both of my parents were fairly high up in the industry, and both the fashion account posts and the more normal posts from acquaintances were odd. All the clothing seemed kind of different. Women were dressed a bit more plainly and conservatively, wearing generally muted and plain colors, while men took to much brighter, flashier color combinations, and seemed to have no problems showing off a bit more skin or wearing tighter pants.
I mean, I know skinny jeans are in fashion right now, especially in Seattle, but some of these were a little ridiculous.
Now that I thought about it, I noticed that a lot of the men's tee shirts were cut in a similar style to all of my new ones, with deeper, V-shaped collars that showed off the collarbone and a bit of the chest.
Hm. Weird.
Shrugging it off, I decided to just read until I went to bed. I would have masturbated, but I knew that it would only make me even more sore the next day, so I got out of bed reluctantly, did a few stretches so that the soreness wouldn't be as bad the next day, and slipped back under the covers, reading a fantasy book on my phone until I eventually passed out.
Little did I know just how much my life had already changed.