Life is Pain ((LitShark & RainingHeat))

[LitShark]

Lightning cracked the sky and the raindrops cut like knives. The wind was howling, whistling from and back into the towering funnel cloud as it made landfall. The trees all around were cracking, breaking and joining the cloud of debris and hurricane-force wind. Another crack of lightning split a tree in the distance, illuminating the long shadows with brief, flickering orange flame before the pouring rain doused it.

At the center of it all, a young woman—beautiful and petite, her long, purple hair fluttering across her face, sticking and wet.

The pale glare from the lighthouse passed over her face, illuminating the scene for a moment before continuing in its rotational path. Somehow, the lighthouse seemed to represent safety—it beckoned her.

A translucent figure of a doe—seemingly made of pure light, looked up and darted toward the lighthouse. Just as the girl approached, a boat, lifted and tossed by the wind, crashed into the side of the lighthouse. The broken tower came careening down, straight for the girl!

-FLASH-​

“…the depth of field is what gives texture to an image. The sharp or soft focus of an image allows our eyes to perceive it in three dimensions.”

Professor Mark Jefferson noticed Max startling herself awake but chose not to call attention to it. The poor girl was so shy and timid, it felt almost like his glance might shatter her, like she was made of ashes and cobwebs. Nonetheless, he’d noticed her—a quiet genius, still discovering her own substance—still malleable, like molten glass not yet set. Opportunity made manifest.

Jefferson cleared his throat, forcing his mind back to the lesson, turning to reveal a stunning black and white landscape poster. It was impossible to know when the image of Yosemite’s Half Dome was taken—it was developed by hand before being meticulously reproduced. In turning, he was able to disguise the faint hint of an erection in his slacks.

“In bits and pieces, this exquisite piece of art is visual gibberish. No faces, no recognizable forms, just textures—but the depth of field makes this image what it is. The sharp against hard focus creates the depth of field and gives this image the scale which makes it a coherent image. Who can name the artist?”

Jefferson hesitated, waiting for a reply but looking expectantly to Max.

“Ansel Adams, of course.” Victoria chimed in, ever eager to please.

“Correct. Good work Victoria, but please stop throwing things.” She thought that he hadn’t noticed her hitting Kate with a wadded-up piece of paper while his back was turned, but Jefferson didn’t miss much.

Victoria blushed.

“Ansel Adams was a master at utilizing depth of field. He took advantage of the static nature of landscapes to find the ideal ratio between sharp and soft focus to create timeless artwork. Speaking of which, I’m still waiting for most of your submissions for our “Everyday Heroes,” photography contest. Aside from Ms. Chase there,” he nodded to Victoria who seemed poised to chime in and remind him that she had, in fact submitted already, “the winner gets to join me in New York at a showcase in which the winning photograph will be featured.”

There came a shutter click, a whir of an old-school Polaroid. Jefferson looked to the back of the classroom, curious to see if his favorite student had deigned to join the discussion.

 

[RainingHeat]

She had been so sure, when she made the decision months ago, that going back home was the right thing to do. It was home after all. Familiar. Not that where she was, 3000 miles away in the Northeast, was not familiar, she had made herself familiar with these new surroundings. But it was not home.

Home, and home was Arcadia Bay in Oregon, small, intimate, a typical NorthWest small town, had invaded her dreams. Home had begun to invade her studies and her work. She had found herself seeking landscapes, subjects, situations that reminded her of home.

Being artistic, she had always had an open mind. And a talented eye for that matter.

Max, short, of course, for Maxine, had shown her talent for photography and art when she was no more than 5 years old. Stealing her father's camera to take picture after picture. Not the typical burry pictures of a tree or flower or treasured pet that another 5 year old may have taken. No, not at all. Max would focus on a butterfly wing, or the thorn of a rose glinting in the sunlight, or the drop of dew clinging to a leaf.

This had progressed into her stunning ability to see beyond the obvious. To see the shadow of the snake that slithered in the grass, not just the snake. To see the reflection of the dragonfly upon the glassy surface of the water and focus on that instead of the dragonfly itself. To see the pain in one's eyes, despite the smile on said person's face. She had once captured the flicker of flame in a child's eyes as that child stared upon her home being destroyed by that flame.

She left home when she graduated High School, gaining entrance into Yale University, with a major in Photography and Art. The first 2 years were busy, with Max struggling to fit into this new normal, away from home... Her photography suffered as she struggled, until she caught the image of a coastal lighthouse, engulfed in lightning as the storm raged around it, the beacon of light reflecting through the darkness on that night she had snapped the picture. It was haunting, ethreal, ghostly, the Lighthouse seeming alive, frozen in time.

There was talk of greatness, talk that she had the eye, that she had the talent, that she was special...

But all she could think about was Home..

Her dreams kept taking her home.

It was time, she needed to go home. She felt the pull deep inside her, deep in her mind, her heart, maybe even her soul. She had no ties to Yale, or to Connecticut. It was not home.

~~~***~~~

To be continued....

 

[RainingHeat]

Lightning cracked the sky and the raindrops cut like knives. The wind was howling, whistling from and back into the towering funnel cloud as it made landfall. The trees all around were cracking, breaking and joining the cloud of debris and hurricane-force wind. Another crack of lightning split a tree in the distance, illuminating the long shadows with brief, flickering orange flame before the pouring rain doused it.

At the center of it all, a young woman—beautiful and petite, her long, purple hair fluttering across her face, sticking and wet.

The pale glare from the lighthouse passed over her face, illuminating the scene for a moment before continuing in its rotational path. Somehow, the lighthouse seemed to represent safety—it beckoned her.

A translucent figure of a doe—seemingly made of pure light, looked up and darted toward the lighthouse. Just as the girl approached, a boat, lifted and tossed by the wind, crashed into the side of the lighthouse. The broken tower came careening down, straight for the girl!

-FLASH- -BOOM-

Startling awake, Max nearly fell out of her seat. Had she actually heard the loud crack of thunder tearing through the skies, had she seen the bright white -flash- of lightning as the bolt tore a hole through the clouds, striking, seeking to devour. The winds, howling, swirling, the lighthouse groaning against the onslaught. Lighthouse? She was staring up at a Lighthouse. What was it about that Lighthouse, any Lighthouse? Yes, she had photographed many, she believed that a Lighthouse had a soul, seemed to be alive, the eye of light guiding ships safely to shore, safely through the storm. An Angel in the night, a Savior. A light in the eternal darkness.

The crack, the groan, the Lighthouse falling victim to the winds, the storm and the very ship that it sought to save, crying, screaming, as the ship tore it apart, the Lighthouse eye flickering in shock, beaming upwards as if begging for help from it's own angels as it fell..

Fell... crumbling, cracking, destroying itself....

She had been running toward the lighthouse, seeking that same safety that it provide the ocean bound ships, yet now, it was coming for her. Falling into her.

-FLASH- -BOOM-

No.. NO WAIT... NOOOOO

Her body physically jumped, nearly sending her to the floor. Shaking her head, dark eyes struggling to focus, struggling to catch her breath. Where was she? It took her a full 2 minutes to even breath, let alone get her mind tuned into the fact that she was sitting in class. Mr. Jefferson's Class. Wait, Professor Mark Jefferson's class. Home, this was home. This class was home, let alone the town she lived in, small as it was. He was one of the leading Professors, and Experts, in Photography, Art. And she was in his class. She was home.

“In bits and pieces, this exquisite piece of art is visual gibberish. No faces, no recognizable forms, just textures—but the depth of field makes this image what it is. The sharp against hard focus creates the depth of field and gives this image the scale which makes it a coherent image. Who can name the artist?”

Name the artist? Max focused on the image. Well, that was easy, Adams of course.

Victoria had blurted out the answer, feeling oh so bloody proud of herself. It was easy. How could ANY Photography student NOT know Adams. Surely it was a trick question. Nothing was ever that easy..

“Ansel Adams was a master at utilizing depth of field. He took advantage of the static nature of landscapes to find the ideal ratio between sharp and soft focus to create timeless artwork. Speaking of which, I’m still waiting for most of your submissions for our “Everyday Heroes,” photography contest. Aside from Ms. Chase there, the winner gets to join me in New York at a showcase in which the winning photograph will be featured.”

That snapped Max back to reality. Without even thinking, she had lifted her old, so very old, Polaroid and snapped a picture. She liked to use the polaroid to get perspective, before she would used her much more modern digital camera. It helped her to see, frame, what she was trying to say, show in her pictures. The picture she took was of Professor Jefferson. She caught him mid speak, as he was looking at the students. The look of concentration, of his imparting of his knowledge was written all over his face, and it was as if she caught that aura. Sometimes, the polaroid was all she got, and it was perfect. This was one of those times.

It wasn't that she wanted to suck up to Professor Jefferson, altho the small fact that he was so very handsome was not lost on Max. But it wasn't that, it was not his rugged, intellectual good looks that seemed to attract her, it was him, how he spoke, talked about photography. How a picture could tell a complete story with no words needed. How a photo could convey the strongest of emotions. Max would never admit to having a crush on Professor Jefferson. Hell, she'd never had a crush of any kind on anyone, really.

Max, even tho she was so very beautiful in a darker kind of way, with her black/purple highlighted long hair and storm cloud eyes, paired with the palest of skin, had never even had a boyfriend all through high school, or during her time at Yale. While others were partying and enjoying college life amidst their studies, Max had not. Quiet, shy, some would say timid, she kept to herself other than her tiny circle of friends. Those friends were home.

There were really only 2, Crystal and Sarah. Crystal was her best friend, had been since she was 6 years old. Both her and Crystal were pretty much outcasts. Max was just shy and timid, often disappearing into her work of photography. Crystal was a tomboy of sorts, even with such a feminine name, she was bullied, called "queer" and "gay" often called "Chris" when being teased. Max was one of the only ones who Crystal could turn to, Max and Sarah.

But Sarah, was missing.

That was a whole other story in and of itself.

Right now, Max had finally cleared her head enough to know where she was and what was going on. She had her submission to the "Everyday Heros" theme that Professor Jefferson was now speaking of. She was sure there would be plenty of photos of policemen, firemen. In fact, she had seen Victoria's entry already, a photo of a cop making a traffic stop, smiling for the camera.

Max's entry was not so cheerful. She had gone to the Hospital, and in the Surgery Observation room, taken several photos of the Doctor and Nurses that were, at that moment in time, performing heart surgery on a child. The photo was graphic, one may even say bloody. But it was how Max saw everyday heros. Graphic and bloody....

"I have mine, Professor" Max spoke up, her voice soft, almost melodic. Almost a whisper.

She pulled the photo from her folder, handing it to him as he approached. Several others saw the image, including Victoria, who loudly exclaimed "oh gross"... Kate giggled at that... But Professor Jefferson paused, staring, his eyes nearly glowing.....

 

[LitShark]

A smile tugged at the corner of his mouth as Jefferson saw Max snap his photo with her “retro” styled Polaroid camera. Most of these young people fetishized old equipment and style in pursuit of some ever-changing, never-aesthetic fad or another. Struggling with typewriters and vinyl records for the sake of appearances and seeking to elevate themselves through downgrading their tech—but Max was different. Her use of the Polaroid camera was a part of a cohesive visual language that was uniquely hers.

It was hard sometimes not to play favorites. Unlike Victoria and most of his other students who he merely tolerated, Mark liked Max. He wanted to be around her more and more—to discuss the works of the greats—to taste her sweat on his tongue…

“Very well, let’s see it then,” Jefferson nodded, allowing Max to bring her submission to the front of the class, her voice gentle but not weak, like water flowing gently over river rocks.

For a moment, the image froze him in place.

Blood.

So much wet, fresh blood splattered across the frame. Living and warm—the fluid that balanced the scales between life and death spilling into and out of frame. It reminded Jefferson of fond memories. He barely heard Victoria’s objection. The bell pulled him from his thoughts enough to fire up a Shakespeare quote.

“From now on, my thoughts be bloody, or they be nothing worth. Dismissed. Think hard about your contest entries—if you hadn’t noticed, the bar has been raised,” Victoria bristled at that, “Max, would you hang back for a sec?”

Jefferson waited for most of the students to clear out. Unfortunately, Victoria wanted a word or two of her own with him. He regretted letting her suck his cock—she’d practically begged him, but ever since she was calling him by his first name, flirting in public, expecting things from him, trying to make excuses to be alone with him.

It had been fun but was more trouble than it was worth.

“Mark, when you said that ‘the bar has been raised,’ or whatever. You didn’t mean—”

“Victoria, let’s discuss this later, please,” Mark all but ushered her out of the classroom and closed the door behind her.

Once he and Max were alone together, he locked the bolt. He moved back toward his student, gently laying the photograph on his desk, where both could easily see. His tone was different in privacy, no longer speaking to the room, speaking only to one, speaking gently as if coaxing a wounded dove from a nest.

“You are undeniably talented, Max. I’ve always known it…” Mark moved behind her, gently laying his hand on her hip, looking over her shoulder at the picture she’d submitted, “this piece is objectively exceptional. Top tier work, foresight and execution—but, I worry that you focused too much on the hero aspect and not enough on the everyday. This work is exquisite, but it could be anyone’s work. It doesn’t tell me enough about the one who took it. I want to see who Max Caulfield looks up to—not society as a whole. You held up a mirror to the assignment, I’m happy to accept it from you—but I think you can do better.”

Mark removed his hand from Max’s hip and he went back to the door to unlock the bolt.

“Show me who you are by showing me the ways in which heroism defines your life.”

Mark opened the door, allowing her to leave.

*-*-*

Just outside of the main building, Blackwell Security officer David Madsen was on patrol. He’d just gotten into an argument with one of the teachers who was actively acquiring signatures for a petition against his motion to beef up the antiquated security monitoring system around campus.

These fucking assholes. They gave him an impossible task, policing this herd of wild beasts—drug addled and hormonal, a constant throb of need that he was helpless to keep up with.

The latest indignity was a video that was circulating of an apparent drug-fueled orgy that took place on his campus. David had to watch the video—it was part of his job, he had to watch it… for evidence. The way the film had been shot, only one students’ face was visible—Kate, or something like that.

David had questions.

“Hey! Stop right there!” David shouted across the courtyard at the sleight girl with her books hugged to her chest, “wait right there!”

David walked right up on Kate, imposing his size. His hand was on the grip of his Glock—his personal sidearm, as this shit job refused to provide one. They scarcely allowed him to carry his own weapon. Fucking assholes.

“What were you doing last weekend? Who were you with? I know what you did, you need to help yourself and tell me who you were with,” David’s tone and volume remained aggressive, unaltered since he was shouting at her across the courtyard.

 

[RainingHeat]

“You are undeniably talented, Max. I’ve always known it…” Mark moved behind her, gently laying his hand on her hip, looking over her shoulder at the picture she’d submitted, “this piece is objectively exceptional. Top tier work, foresight and execution—but, I worry that you focused too much on the hero aspect and not enough on the everyday. This work is exquisite, but it could be anyone’s work. It doesn’t tell me enough about the one who took it. I want to see who Max Caulfield looks up to—not society as a whole. You held up a mirror to the assignment, I’m happy to accept it from you—but I think you can do better.”

"I want to see WHO Max Caufield looks up to"

Those were the words she focused on in that moment. He was right, of course. He seemed to always be right, well, at least most of the time. She tried NOT to focus on his light touch upon her hip, even tho she could feel her skin warm, her heart speed up just a little.

Who did she look up to?

Her parents? Nope. Her mother was a home maker, and slept with anyone and everyone she could. Her father was a salesmen, he could sell almost anything. Annoying is how Max had always seen them. No, she did not look up to either. She did not doubt their love for her, but she had never been happy in that house. It was not a home. Home now was a small studio apartment over a drug store. It was small, dark, dingy, but it was home, filled with her photos, that's what made it home. She paid for it by doing side work photographing weddings, or submitting photos to news organizations. That and her savings, she was ok. She was home..

“Show me who you are by showing me the ways in which heroism defines your life.”

Max's eyes darkened a bit. In reality, she did not believe in "hero's". She certainly did NOT subscribe to the "Sports Hero" mentality, or the "Music Icon" mentality. For her, a Hero was someone who did something, and that something could be anything, for another out of the kindness of their hearts. That would or could change the someone's life for the better, and never expecting recompense for that action. Max understood that her photo of the surgery, while shocking and vivid, and yes, Doctors and Surgeons were hero's, he was doing this surgery because that was his profession, that was what was expected.

A true hero, often did the unexpected.

She already had an idea in her head as she left the classroom...

Stepping out into the grey light, it seemed the sun did not shine on the northwest coast nearly as much as it did on the east coast, Max paused to get her sunglasses. The grey light wreaked havoc on her headaches, that dimness seeming to trigger them. She much prefered either full on night or full on sunshine. This grey mess just did not suit her at all. But again, it was home. She should have been used to it. It certainly did provide a great backdrop for photos, that was for sure.

“Hey! Stop right there!, wait right there!”

Max looked up at the shouting. She recognized the voice, David. David Madsen. She did not like him, not at all. There was something about him that just rubbed her the wrong way. He had just married Crystal's mother, Joyce...

Joyce fancied herself a glamorous woman. David was very masculine. They seemed to make a decent couple. What Max hated, and so did Crystal for that matter, was that David had a tendency to always have his hands on Joyce, groping her, even when Max and Crystal were there. Crystal HATED it. Crystal HATED him. And she did everything in her power to piss him off, including partying, drugs, drinking and anything else she could think of. She still lived at home, she had never been as good with money or even holding any kind of job, as Max was. But she spent most of her time at Sarah's, before she disappeared, and at other friends, or boyfriends. Max did not have the room in her tiny place for Crystal to stay, and even tho they were best friends, Max was kind of glad about that. She valued her privacy and much preferred being alone.

But David was not yelling at her. He was yelling out to Kate, Victoria's lackey. Kate followed Victoria around like a puppy dog, hoping that some of Victoria's beauty, charisma, something, would rub off on her.

Kate was harmless, as far as Max was concerned. Her opinion of Kate was pretty neutral. She neither "liked" or "disliked" her. She was just there, usually where ever Victoria was. This time though, Kate was alone. Victoria had stormed off after Professor Jefferson had ushered her out of the classroom.

“What were you doing last weekend? Who were you with? I know what you did, you need to help yourself and tell me who you were with,” David’s tone and volume remained aggressive, unaltered since he was shouting at her across the courtyard.

Kate nearly stumbled backwards at the onslaught. His yelling was aggressive, and scary.

At first, Max just shook her head. The man had a complex where he had to be the "biggest rooster in the yard". Always puffing out his chest and acting all dominate and commanding. He did the same thing at home, with Crystal and her mother. Her mother seemed to like it, but Max's opinion of Crystal's mom was never high up on the scale. The woman seemed to "need" a man. Max never understood that. Why would you "need" anyone.

But what alarmed Max was the fact he had his hand on his gun. There was something wrong with that. What was he going to do, shoot Kate? She was 5'3" tall to his 6'1". Did he really see her as a threat?

Kate's face went bright red. She frantically looked around for Victoria, but she was no where to be seen. And the man with the gun, she did not know his name, was striding toward her. She had been at the party, the orgy. How had he known? What was he going to do if she admitted it? Should she? Where was Victoria when she needed her? Victoria always knew what to say, how to lie!!!!

"I... I" Kate stammered, before Max stepped in.

If she had been under 18, she would have called him Mr. Madsen. But she had decided when she turned 19, she was an adult and the only time she would use Mr, Mrs, or the like was when said person demanded respect. She had NO respect for David Madsen.. None at all.

"Leave her alone David!!! What do you care what she did over the weekend. Unless you were THERE and saw what may have been happening..." Keep in mind Max was NOT at the party. She had heard whisperings about it, and Crystal had been there, but she had yet to get the details this particular Monday morning.... "and even if you DO have questions, there is NO reason on this planet WHY you should be palming your gun. Unless of course you're afraid of us.... Is that it? Are you afraid of us???"

Max was not even sure where this bravado was coming from. It may be due to the fact that she knew the man, he was not a stranger to her....

 

[LitShark]

David nearly flinched when Max joined the conversation, taking up for the girl from the porn film. It wasn’t really a surprise. Max was one of Crystal’s little friends—probably just another junkie slut like his stepdaughter, like this good-time gal he was in the process of interrogating. If he had the closed-circuit cameras that he was asking for, such crude tactics wouldn’t have been necessary. Interrogation was the least effective form of intel gathering, yet more often than not, it was the only way to advance an investigation.

How can you tell that a teen is lying? Their mouth is moving.

Nonetheless, David removed his hand from his gun. The last thing he needed was to get “canceled”. He adjusted his belt and turned his hips toward Max, his adjustment making clear how large his package was.

“Calm down, Grape Juice,” a derisive name that David often called Max, given how he felt about her hair color, “don’t interfere with my investigation.”

Even to his own ears, the word sounded ridiculous. Like a special needs kid playing sheriff and it infuriated him that he was still so far from the version of himself he wanted to be. He glared at Kate, pointing his finger back at the obviously terrified girl.

“I’m not through with you. And as for you, stay out of my way, Grape Juice.” David nearly shoved his way past Max, the keys on his belt rattling audibly. There was a vague sense that this moment would have consequences later.

“Hey! Mad Max! What’s up?” David had scarcely departed before Warren, notorious film buff and self-styled nerd, approached from the parking lot, it was obvious from his goofy smile that he hadn’t witnessed the altercation between Max and David.

“I’ve got those movies you were asking about,” Warren held out a flash drive, “I set them up in chronological order. The Cabinet of Dr. Caligari to American Mary.”

Warren had maxed out the flash drive’s memory with a fairly impressive library of cult and obscure films.

*-*-*

Nathan Prescott was pacing back and forth, visibly nervous and upset.

He’d been the first out of Jefferson’s class and now he was impatiently waiting on Crystal with no clear sense of what to tell her. He owed her money and she was dragging his debt to her connect, who was most likely not the kind of person she wanted to owe for long—but Nathan didn’t have it.

His family was loaded, but he couldn’t exactly be like ‘hey pops, I need cash to pay my drug dealer for roofies that I used to sexually assault my classmate.’ Nobody even knew that he or the Vortex club were involved with Kate’s little viral video—and he aimed to keep it that way. It wouldn’t be hard to blackmail Kate with the video—but Crystal might be a problem.

That was why Nathan had brought his gun. A present from his dad on his eighteenth birthday. It was a Glock 9mm—not a lot of gun, but enough to deal with the average drug-dyke like Crystal.

Nathan touched the handle of the gun as Crystal’s truck pulled into the parking lot.

 

[RainingHeat]

“Calm down, Grape Juice,”

GOD she hated that. He was nothing more than a condescending jerk as far as she was concerned. He had to "prove" his manhood by talking down to any female, trying to show he was the alpha dog. Made her sick, to be honest, but he was married to Crystal's mom, so Max had to "deal" with him every so often. She was not sure what Crystal's mom saw in the jerk, but then again, she was no prize herself.

“don’t interfere with my investigation.”

Max snorted at that. Investigation. He was such an idiot.

“I’m not through with you." He directed his anger toward Kate once more. " And as for you, stay out of my way, Grape Juice.” David nearly shoved his way past Max, the keys on his belt rattling audibly. There was a vague sense that this moment would have consequences later.

Max was about to shove him back. She was tensed, her muscles taut, her reaction but a millisecond away when she heard another voice. David, hearing the other voice, seemed to think twice about reacting any further and stalked past the 2 girls, just as Warren called out..

“Hey! Mad Max! What’s up?” It was obvious from his goofy smile that he hadn’t witnessed the altercation between Max and David.

“I’ve got those movies you were asking about,” Warren held out a flash drive, “I set them up in chronological order. The Cabinet of Dr. Caligari to American Mary.”

Max had to think for a minute. What movies? Oh yeah, she could always count on goofy Warren to find the most obscure movies out there. Of course, those were the only kind of movies that she really enjoyed.

Kate, head down, still shaking, nodded a bit to Max in way of thanks perhaps? And was quickly scurrying away. Yes, she had been at the "Party" on campus. Yes, she had taken whatever drugs were offered her. Yes, she had either fucked or blown, several of the guys there, at the insistence of Victoria. She so wanted to fit in and Victoria was her best friend after all. And she had fucked and blown at least a couple of the guys, right? Or had she? Kate was not sure anymore. All she knew was that she had a cock either in her mouth or pussy most of the night, more than once, at the same time. They had treated her more like a sex toy doll than a person. One had even fucked her up the ass, which she hated, but she dared not protest. She wanted to "fit in" after all. She was still sore, still had marks on her neck and tits from guys biting at her or pinching and twisting her nipples. And... there was another "Party" planned for the upcoming weekend. Victoria already told her that several of the guys who had, well.. used her... friends were going to be there. She had been talked about, alot, among the boys!!!!

Max watched as Kate slinked away. She had heard about the orgy, and heard some stories. It was hard not to hear about that kind of thing. She felt bad for Kate. She had fallen in with the wrong crowd, that was for sure...

"Hey Warren... how's it hanging?" that always made Goofy Warren chuckle and this time was no exception...

Max took the proffered flash drive. She knew Warren was waiting for an invitation to watch them with her, or at least watch one.

"I'll let you know when I watch them. Maybe you can come by" He was harmless. Yeah, he had a gargantuan crush on her, but he was not like most of the other guys on campus. He was more naive than she was...

Warren flashed his smile. "Awesome!!"

Max waved him off at that point. She really wanted to concentrate on what Mr. Jefferson had said about showing him what and/or who SHE considered a hero. Who she looked up to, admired. The idea hit her then. She never looked up to people. People always disappointed. Always hurt others. Always let others down. There were very few people that she even wanted to be around, with the exception of Warren, who was harmless, and Crystal and Sarah... and Sarah was still missing... and lastly Mr. Jefferson. She always enjoyed his class, hearing him speak, watching his lips move as the words danced, studying his movements as he strode thru the class room, or down the halls of the school, or just standing and thinking, and his scent, so masculine..... "Stop that MAX" she had to whisper to herself. Alot of students had crushes on their Professors. She knew so many of them crushed on Mr. Jefferson, she refused to be one. BUT, she wanted to impress him, more than anything...

But it was then she knew what photo she would submit... She just had to catch the "right" angle, the "right" photo...

********************************************

Crystal didn't "like" Kate so to speak. But she felt sorry for the girl. She had seen the videos. She had seen what they had done to her. They had done it to others, but Kate had been the "star" of that little party. And she had performed like a star. They could not get enough of her.

She hadn't realized the extent the boys were going to go when she got the roofies, amongst other drugs, for Nathan. Nathan was loaded, well, Nathan's parents were loaded, and Crystal wanted and needed the money. And it put her in better standing with her dealer, Xavier.

Fucking him was one thing, but when it came to the drugs and money, just fucking him would not suffice. She needed his trust, she needed him to believe her whenever she needed more, believe that she would pay, that she was able to pay...

Nathan needed to get that money to her. 15K was ALOT of money to her. But, as was stated, his parents were fucking loaded. 15K was a drop in the bucket to them. Never mind that she had only given Nathan 3/4 of the drugs she had procured for him. She kept the rest for herself. She considered it her "cut"... she deserved it!!!

Crystal pulled her beat up truck into the parking lot. He'd better had the money, she thought to herself. If she had to fuck him to get it, she would. Mattered not to her. Never mind the fact that she had just come from showing one of the new girls a "good time"... wait, what was her name again? She had already forgotten. But that had not satiated her. She had driven that new girl to 3 pretty intense orgasms, but the girl had NOT managed to get her to cum, and she was still wildly horny. She would teach the girl, that was for sure, but for now, she was still chomping at the bit to cum, and cum hard... she could feel her clit throbbing...

She saw Nathan and turned the truck toward him, hiking up her short skirt with one hand as she did so. Her panties were long since gone and she was so slick and wet, the seat where she sat was getting moist. She hadn't fucked Nathan before, but she really needed to orgasm badly...

"Hey Nathan" She slipped the truck in park and leaned over to open the opposite door, inviting him in. He complied, eyes narrowing a bit, until he caught a glimpse of her. Her skirt was hiked all the way up, and her bared pussy was glistening wet... He paused, licking his lips. This was gonna be fun, he thought to himself as he climbed in, forgetting all about the debt for the moment.....

 

[LitShark]

“Awesome!” Warren beamed.

He’d been hoping for something like that—a hint that she was interested, too. He had been looking for a way in since he first saw her. When she turned away, he felt his opportunity slipping. His heart increased its tempo, he mustered his courage to the sticking point, he shot his shot.

“You know, the Cinemark downtown is showing a midnight Kung Fu marathon his weekend. Ip Man, Fist of Fury, Fearless and Ip Man 2. I know that’s a lot of movies, but I think it’ll be fun. You know. If you’re equal to the challenge…”

Warren raised his arms and one of his legs, setting into the Miyagi Crane Stance from Karate Kid, making faintly problematic “martial arts sounds,” as he balanced. He hoped this was charming because he could not see himself.

“Be there or you will bring shame upon your family,” Warren chuckled before letting Max evade him toward the parking lot.

He thought that had gone well.

*-*-*

Nathan was surprised but relieved to see that Crystal was… excited to see him. Perhaps this didn’t have to be confrontational as he’d anticipated—which was good, because the jury was still out on how soon was too soon to delve into his quiver of homophobic slurs. But maybe he wouldn’t need them.

“Well, I guess you’re glad to see me,” Nathan reached across as he slid into the passenger’s seat of Crystal’s infamous truck, slipping his hand onto her inner thigh, “where to?”

It was clear that he meant somewhere private, oblivious to the idea that she might be manipulating him by flashing her wet, shaven sex. As far as Nathan was concerned, every moment spent talking about something other than the money he owed was a gift.

He had an idea about what he could offer her to settle the debt—but if he could offer his cock as part of the bargain it was a win-win.

 

[RainingHeat]

“Be there or you will bring shame upon your family,”

His chuckle caught her off guard and Max smiled.

Warren really was harmless, in the grand scheme of things. She saw no ill intentions in his actions, heard no ill will or dubious ideas in his words, got not sensation that he was only cozying up to her because he wanted something, that something being sex.

So many guys, sooo many... that was all they wanted. All they could think about. All that mattered to them. Getting their cocks wet in some girls pussy. David was like that. All he wanted to do was to bang Crystal's mom, and Max had the inkling he wanted to bang Crystal as well. The man was nothing more than a rutting pig. Max just never understood that fascination with all that. She never understood the need for sex. Not to say that sex did not interest her. Just the physical aspect did not interest her. She liked feeling good, she had masturbated before. A couple of times, and she liked how it made her feel. But she simply did not crave it. Not like Crystal seemed to, or Victoria, or even Kate. Despite her demeanor and her embarrassment, Max had seen snippets of the video from the big "cum" party, and Kate had more than one orgasm, that was for sure.

Max winked back at Warren with a grin. "I'll catch up with you later"...

Of course, thinking about sex, in any capacity, always took Max's thoughts back to Mr. Jefferson. He was different. Not in a Warren, goofy, harmless kinda different way. But he was different. Max never got the sense from him that all he thought about was sex. Max knew, somewhere deep in her own primal nature, that sex with Mr. Jefferson would not be just about the physical.. it would involve emotion, passion, hunger, heat, sweat, desire... crying out for more, begging for him to push deeper, screaming out her climax.....

Blinking, Max shook her head to get those thoughts out of her mind. Her heart was racing, her skin damp. What the hell was that all about?

"Heros.. Max... concentrate... Who to I look up to?" .... again she did not look up to anyone really, not even Mr. Jefferson. She found most people to be useless, and in some cases, disgusting. Mr. Jefferson had been right, her photo of the OR had been a shock value photo, and if she "had" to pick a "person" to look up to, the ones that healed were some of the only ones she would even admit to thinking about.

But that was not what Mr. Jefferson wanted. He wanted to know his students on a deeper level.

She had thought she had hit upon what she wanted to take the photo off, but in thinking on this once again, it came to her...

Max went home, and the photo she took was of herself, in the mirror. She was not smiling, she was not frowning. She was looking, deep into her own eyes. She looked up to herself. She looked up to the person she hoped to be. Different from all others. Smart, compassionate, loving, open, a person she hoped, as she navigated the world, would make a difference, in some capacity, to someone... The photo was almost ethereal, she having manipulated the lighting, and the mirror, the reflection almost ghostly. Her eyes, large, vivid, full of life, wonder, intelligent, yet still questing to be better, to be more... It was her eyes that stood out among the almost whispy image. She wanted to show that she was merely an image that could be sharpened, could grow and brighten into a better person, into a better Max.

That would be the photo she would offer Mr. Jefferson ..

*****************************************************************

“Well, I guess you’re glad to see me,” Nathan reached across as he slid into the passenger’s seat of Crystal’s infamous truck, slipping his hand onto her inner thigh, “where to?”

She could have mounted him right then and there she was so fucking horny. But the last thing she needed was anyone seeing her having sex. Not that she was not into others watching, the idea was HOT, but she didn't want Max, or, God Forbid, David, seeing her.

Winking at the already hard and ready Nathan, obvious by the large bulge in his jeans, Crystal slid the truck into Drive, while spreading her legs a bit more as an invitation... Which Nathan quickly accepted, his fingers easily finding the wet, slick folds of her pussy as he slid closer to her on the seat. "Like that do you" he purred in her ear as he slowly danced the tips into the soaking softness, her breathing quickening in response.

She would have to find someplace quickly or she'd explode right then and there.

The cemetery, perfect. Most times it was quiet, just like now.

She pulled her old beat up truck past the entrance and to the very back of the large grave yard, parking behind a rather regal old oak tree that stood guard over several graves.

"Oh yes, very glad to see you" she purred back at him, the truck in park. Crystal pushed Nathan back a bit and turned, easily climbing onto his lap. "Fuck me" she whispered in his ear as he fumbled with wet fingers to get his zipper down and his cock free of his jeans. Took all of a minute and Crystal was lowering herself down onto the thick, hard shaft, a low sigh of almost relief at finally getting some satisfaction rippling past her lips.

She began rocking her hips, swaying, quivering atop him, his cock easily burying itself into the slick, tight, soaking wet depths of her sex. The sound, the scent, filled the truck as she rode him, her breasts bouncing which only urged him to rip open her blouse. Of course she had no bra on, and Nathan feasted on each juggling orb, licking, nipping, suckling first the left nipple and then the right as she continued to ride his pulsing cock.

Just as she was about to cum, the pressure building, he was now squeezing her ass as he thrust hard up and into her as she came down upon him, his cock pushing deeply, the walls of her pussy grasping at him, enveloping him, the heat surrounding both him and her, she leaned forward and whispered "I expect my money for this little tryst, Nathan. Pay me what you owe me and I will make you cum everytime you see me, I promise you that...."

Of course she was lying, but Nathan wouldn't know that...

***********************************************************

Max laid back on the small mattress that was her bed. The room was small, but it was hers. That was all that mattered. Taking the photo, and in the picture she had nothing more on than a bra and panties. She wanted that vulnerability to show, had got her thinking, again, about Mr. Jefferson.

Now, as she lay back in the bed, she let her hand wonder down, between her open, outstretched legs, slipping beneath the pink cotton panty she wore. She was alittle surprised to find herself moist, and the feel of her fingers lightly caressing felt, soothing, and arousing at the same time. Her fingertip found her gently pulsing clit and began to circle around it, causing Max to gasp lightly. It took only a few moments before the release hit her, cascading thru her as she shook on the bed, panting, and picturing Mr. Jefferson, over her, touching her...

 

[LitShark]

Mark Jefferson was sweating as his hips moved up and down rapidly, barely even paying attention to the bound girl below him. Her thighs bore the bruises of her prolonged captivity as her leg wobbled in air, being aggressively fucked with her leather wrist shackles still padlocked to D-rings mounted to the floor.

The harsh, bright, white light was a stark contrast to the girls running makeup and the dingy mattress under her. Jefferson was choking her with one hand while the other hand was gripping a remote.

-FLASH-​

The whole room seemed to explode in white light as various spots and flash-bulbs bounced off of reflective surfaces around the bed where she was bound. Some ten yards away, the computer uploaded a hyper-focused close up of her expressive, aqua eye—her lashes clumped together from days of crying, blood-shot and streaked with misplaced eyeliner and mascara.

-FLASH-​

Another picture of her eye joined the portfolio, the most expressive by far. Even without a single other feature of her face, her eye communicated loud-and-clear.

Help me, her eye cried out, Save me, please! Make it stop!

-FLASH-​

*-*-*

“Heh,” Nathan chuckled, “most girls try a little harder to disguise the fact that they’re whores. It’s good to see you embrace it so open-handedly. Refreshing, really.”

Nathan continued caressing and squeezing Crystal’s round, firm tit while his cock still caught by the insane grip of her uniquely dexterous pussy. Victoria would probably consider this cheating, which was ironic since she had enthusiastically encouraged him through the most despicable of the things they’d done to Kate.

“Look, I can get the money. I’m a Prescott, but it’s short-sighted. Anybody can scrape together some money—what you really want is my family’s influence. You want to wield that Prescott power. I’m sure you’ve heard that the police do what we say, well it’s true—and it’s not just for making my DUIs disappear. Instead of the couple grand I owe you, why not take advantage of my family’s leverage to set up hundreds of thousands in future business.

“Talk to Xavier. Offer him a chance to complete the biggest buy this town has ever seen with complete immunity from local law enforcement. Once it works out, we can do it again—but next time, I take a cut. First time free.”

As if to punctuate his offer, Nathan bowed his head forward to suck Crystal’s tit into his mouth, sucking harder and harder until his lips lost the seal and her breast fell away from his mouth with a “pop.”