Friday's Party


The day had started out badly. As typical to this time of the year in Houston, it was overcast, hot, and humid. Paul, however, was not thinking about the weather. His thoughts were focused on something else entirely. He had a party to go to that evening, and a full day of school still ahead of him.

Friday nights were always a nice change from the usual drudgery involved in classes at the local high school. Since he had gotten his driver's license the year before, his social life had improved tremendously. The weekly routine involved, school Monday to Friday, party Friday, getting over a hangover Saturday, another party that night, another day recovering, and rushing through homework that night. Yet, despite the regular partying, Paul managed to keep his grades quite high. Just the week before he had been admitted into the University of Pennsylvania, and was expecting the reply from Cornell that afternoon. His parents are quite wealthy, so paying for college would not even be a strain on the family budget. All in all, he had everything a guy could ask for.

Classes started with Calculus on Fridays, and Mr. Johnson was the type of math teacher who's voice never seemed to hold any emotion. As the class droned on in the typical monotone, Paul began to let his mind wander. He had to write a letter to his grandmother, she had been bothering him for a while about how he never writes anymore (although he HAD sent a two page letter around Christmas time). The woman lived an hour away in Sealy, its not as if they were that far away! Then he needed to call up Penn, they hadn't said anything about their deb. . .. "WALTERS!"

"Ugh, yes sir?"

"Please take the derivative of the equation."

"Umm. . ..2 x?"

"Walters, if you intend to hold on to your tenuous A in this class, I recommend you keep your mind off of the girls, and on to the calculus. . .that is after all why you are here. McDonald, please help Mr. Walters with the derivative of 8."

"Yes, sir. The derivative of 8 is zero, by the power rule which states&emdash;"John McDonald is abruptly cut off by the irritated teacher.

"Thank you McDonald" and after giving a significant glance to Paul, turns back to the lesson.

The remainder of class passed without incident, as did the rest of the day until lunch. Lunch seems to be one of those times in the mess of the day that can be looked upon in two different ways. Either with extreme dread or extreme excitement as the cafeteria becomes a meat market where girls and boys alike strut and preen for each other's benefit. After all, it was never too early to be thinking about getting a prom date. Well, Paul managed to find a third avenue, complete and total indifference. At least that is what a casual observer would think, especially since his eyes seemed to look at the guys as much as the girls, but never lingering longer on one rather than another. For some reason though, Sarah was determined to make today different. Sarah had long been known to have a crush on Paul, but unlike most high school crushes, this one was not going away at the end of the week.

That is not to say that Paul did not have his share of girls getting crushes on him. Most attractive boys had that problem, although problem would hardly be the appropriate adjective. Nor is it to say that Sarah was not worth going out with. She had been a varsity cheerleader since her freshman year, which in the cutthroat world of high school cheerleading was hardly a simple feat to accomplish. A major reason she had managed to hold the post, was the way she could look coyly over her shoulder at the coach. The look was specially designed to melt hearts and harden significant other locations. Exactly two inches shorter than the six-foot Paul, with long blond hair and cornflower blue eyes, she was the perfect match for him. At least that is what she had convinced herself of. So, for three years, she had been relentless in chasing Paul. At first, Paul was flattered, and then gradually more annoyed. He had done his best to ignore her this year, but she was not the type to give up on what she wanted.

"Hi, Paul."

"Hello, Sarah." She took the reply as an invitation to sit down. She then leaned over and whispered in his ear, meanwhile, all around the interaction of the two cutest students in school was being watched with avid interest.

"You know, I want you so bad. I would even let you do me right here in front of all these losers if you wanted."

"Sarah, come on. . ." She leaned back and spoke more loudly.

"What the FUCK is your problem Paul. Are you a FAG or something?" At that, Paul looked truly uncomfortable as about five hundred pairs of eyes focused in on him.

"You think it takes being gay to not be attracted to you? You have some ego, Sarah." Paul managed to stammer.

"You are aren't you. . .you are a fruit! I don't believe it, I've had a crush on a fucking fruit." At that, she ran out of the cafeteria weeping.

Jesus Christ, now what am I gonna do? Paul thinks to himself. I'm gonna have to do damage control, shit I'll even fuck her if that's what she wants so bad, anything. He then got up and walked after her. Shit, why do girls always go to the bathroom when they are stressed? Fuck it, I'm going in. . .


"Go away faggot." She sobs.

"Sarah, Mike's having a party tonight, do you want to go?"

"You mean it? You really want to go with me, even though I called you that?" She sounded as if she was going to break down again, as she walked out of the stall. "Oh, God, I'm so sorry Paul, I didn't mean it. I'm so sorry. I can't believe I did that."

"Its okay, just come on, I don't want to get caught in here." Sarah then gives him a significant glance.

"Well, you know, we won't be bothered if you want to. . .you know. . .make up. . ."

"And get expelled? No thanks, tonight maybe. . .but not here. I want it to be special." Jeeze I can't believe I'm saying this shit. . .

At that, Sarah's eyes lit up and jumped up and hugged Paul as he thought to himself, Lord I know I'm going to regret this. . . After they exited the bathroom together, she gives him a long passionate PDA kiss. The rumor of Paul being gay died right there and then.

After school that day, Paul went to check the mail. Inside the small box was an enormous envelope from Cornell University. "WHOOPIE!!!!" His father was an alumnus of Cornell, and really wanted Paul to go to his alma mater. Paul had looked forward to this day since he was five years old, his dad would be so happy. He was whistling when he got on his clothes for Mike's party. He would have to go by Sarah's house to pick her up, so he left around five-forty. Sarah was fashionably late, and made him wait for about ten minutes as her parents raked him over the coals. Paul of course was quite good at putting parents at ease. By the end of the ten minutes, had they been asked, they would have gladly given their blessings for marriage. Paul and Sarah got into the car, and almost immediately, she asked him, "Can I blow you? I really feel bad about today, and I want to make it up to you." Damn, does this girl have nothing else on her mind?!

"I told Mike that I'd help him with clearing stuff out of the living room. Maybe we can talk about that afterwards." He offered belatedly.

"Okey dokey. . .whatever you want. Paul, I need to tell you something."


"Well, I've never been with a . . . you know. . . boy before. I'm a virgin. I know you aren't. I know you have been with a couple of girls. . .all of them speak. . .umm. . .highly of you. I guess what I'm asking is that I want you to be gentle with me. I want to give myself to you. . .I've wanted that for a long time." She then proceeded to check her make-up one more time. Jeeze, she's a virgin?! Now I not only have to fuck her, I have to make it special too! For the second time that day he wondered to himself about what he was getting himself into.

They arrived at Mike's without further incident or conversation. Paul's Z3 looked rather nice in front of the large house. By the end of the night as the various Mercedes and BMW's filed into the area, it looked as if it were a gathering for the rich and famous of the Houston area rather than a teenage party. Alcohol of course was provided compliments of Mike's father, who had been bullied into providing when his son had asked for the fortieth or fiftieth time. And needless to say, Mike's parents were spending the night at the River Oaks house, which the family used when entertaining guest from the Medical Center where Mike's father worked. So the house and the booze were all turned over to the teenagers for the remainder of the evening.

Initially, Sarah was more than happy to stand by Paul and soak up the admiring glances from all the other females in attendance. After about an hour of this, she whispered to Paul "Baby, please" with that same coy glance that had made her a varsity cheerleader. Christ, I might as well get this over with, thought Paul to himself.

"Uhhh, Mike, can I use your guest room? I mean, Sarah and I need to. . .umm. . .talk. . ."

"Sure HOSS, go for it. . .umm the you know what's are in the dresser drawer. . .<wink> lucky bastard." Said Mike with a conspiratorial voice and obvious reference to the condoms he had smuggled in for his own midnight encounters.

"Thanks man, I owe you."

"No prob, man."

As soon as they got upstairs, Sarah locked the door, and kissed him so passionately he thought he was going to suffocate. She stripped him to the waist, and undid his belt. About half way through the blow job, he pulls her off, and puts on the condom. He then strips her clothing off and breaks her hymen. After about twenty minutes she hit orgasm, and about one minute later, so does he. He pulls out and goes to the bathroom to clean up. The only words that had passed between them were gasps, and almost silent groans. Five minutes later, Paul walks out of the bathroom and helps the sweating Sarah to the sink.

"Paul, will you tell me the truth?"

"About what Sarah?"

"Are you really gay?"

"Do gay guys have sex with girls?"

"That isn't what I asked you Paul."

"I know."

"Good God, you are gay. Would you have preferred it if it were Mike up here!?"

"It wasn't Mike who was up here, it was you. I gave you what you wanted right? You wanted to have sex!"

"What are you? Fuck it, tell me! Do you think I'm ugly? Do I turn you off or something?"

"No Sarah, you do turn me on."

"Then what's the problem?"


"Does Mike turn you on?"

"Come on, let's go down. We are missing the party." Says Paul gently, praying that she'd drop it.

Once they were downstairs, Paul immediately went for the keg. After about 4 or 5 mugs of beer, he was in a significantly more jovial mood. He also was too far gone to notice it when Sarah whispered into Mike's ear. Laughing, Mike whispered an agreement. Sarah had decided to test her theory. Mike started to head to the center of his living room, and had begun to dance with lots of hip thrusts and groin grabbing. Meanwhile, Sarah had maneuvered into a position where she could hold on to Paul's crotch as he watched Mike's display. She wasn't surprised when Paul's crotch became hard almost immediately.

She then nodded to Mike. Mike who had also had about three beers more than he ought to have had, walked over to Paul and grabbed his hand. He then proceeded to dance very close to the drunk Paul. Paul was too wasted to realize that he had fallen into a cruel trap by his date. He danced, and as the speed of the music increased, so did the intensity of his arousal, until finally he grabbed on to Mike, and kissed him fiercely on the lips. Mike was far too surprised to resist, so as complete silence descended (Sarah had cut of the music), everybody watched as Paul kissed and groped his best friend in the world. About thirty seconds later, Mike was yelling and screaming, "GET YOUR FUCKING QUEER, SHIT-PACKING, ASS OUT OF MY HOUSE!" After about thirty minutes of sitting outside in the cold damp lawn, Paul's mind cleared enough for him to realize what had happened.

Thirty seconds later he had made a decision about what to do about it. He took his car keys, and got into his beautiful car. His only regret after making his decision was that he would have to wreck his car. He then got into the car, and drove to Highway 6. There he quickly turned off his headlights, and switched into the lane for on-coming traffic. He finally saw the Mack truck that would end his life, and gunned the engine. He impacted head on with the eighteen-wheeler while going a hundred and ten miles an hour. The little car, along with Paul, was crushed into the front of the truck. The truck driver was unhurt, although he had a severe headache for many weeks, and was late to his drop off point. By sheer coincidence it was a Miller Light truck. . .the beer that had gotten Paul and his friends drunk in the first place.

Since the highway was on Paul's route home, his death was labeled as a result of drunken driving, rather than a suicide. Paul's family never learned about what really happened at the party, nor why he had decided to go home early. They did find it curious, that his blood alcohol level was only slightly about the legal limit, especially since he had driven home under similar conditions before without incident. But the idea of suicide seemed too impossible for them to imagine, and they too accepted that their son had simply died because he had had one too many to drink. They had a large funeral, with much of the senior class coming in to pay last respects, and many lectures about the hazards of teenage drinking. Mike and Sarah sat next to each other in the front pews.

No lawsuits were filed, and insurance took care of the truck's damages. To this day, Paul's death is regarded as a random death due to drinking and driving, because nobody who was at Mike's party ever said anything to the contrary. Sarah and Mike eventually hooked up, and are currently dating at the University of Texas at Austin. Neither speaks about what happened, and that way avoid the guilt involved in the possibility that they might have been responsible for this tragedy.

Paul is buried in a nice cemetery, and his parents come every Saturday to put flowers over their son's grave. Both weep over what could have been had he stayed sober that night, and thankfully they neither know the true reason nor the circumstances under which their only son died. They have since successfully managed to bring another child into the world, to whom they hope they can give some of the love that they had for Paul. Jason is now one month old.

©1997 Oasis Magazine. All Rights Reserved.