The Nymphetamine Girls

The cafeteria is bustling today, the wild silly laughter of other girls talking with their friends obscuring the conversation Natalia and I are having, which I’m grateful for.

“He’s watching us again.”

I pull my phone out, glancing at the black screen for just the briefest second before I tap it, seeing all the notifications. She’s right. I catch his reflection in the glass, and although I can’t prove it’s us he’s looking at specifically, he’s certainly looking this way.

It’s Friday, his day to monitor ‘A’ lunch. Tuesdays and Friday’s. My two favorite days to come to school.

“You do look especially alluring today,” Natalia tells me, as if I didn’t already know that. Taking extra care with the thinnest white shirt from my dead mother’s closet.

The one that shows the light brown of my areolas and the stiff peaks of my nipples against the chill of the air conditioning that breezes through the spacious room.

“Yes, but he hardly ever notices me.” I complain, sliding my hand up her thigh, and tracing the lining of her panties under her skirt. “I love your skirt today, by the way.” I whisper into her ear, gently licking her earlobe as I tell her so. “Easy access . . .” I gently trace one side of her outer lips, teasing her. She likes it. She always does.

It’s our game, the talking, the temptation, the carefully hiding as we fly just under the radar of authoritative suspicion. Seeing how long we can tease each other before we give in. So very girl boss close to the sun, which describes us perfectly in everything we do. Limits are meant to be pushed.

“He notices. He’s trying not to give himself away right now, that’s all. He’s thinking dirty thoughts, I can feel it,” she laughs, as we both glance over at him, catching him whip his head around, as if he wasn’t watching.

John May, 24 and fresh from college. He also happens to live in our neighborhood. A small gated community in one of the poshest suburbs of Austin, Texas.

Verdant Hills is where the rich live, and our tiny gated estate is even harder to get in to. Verdant Glen is where my mother decided to plant us, a year before she divorced my ass hat of a father. An abusive drunk, who married some vapid trophy wife who had all the sense of a half-priced hooker.

A generous settlement from one of the wealthiest oilmen, and a healthy monthly stipend in alimony and child support made her death an easy one for her to find. Lost in a haze of cocaine, pills, and liquor.

Claire has been my unofficial legal guardian for nearly six years. My father of course couldn’t be bothered, living so far away. But I refused to leave Verdant Glen, and there was no way I was leaving Natalia.

An elderly woman now, Claire was the one who took care of me as my mother drank herself through one liver and destroyed the donor one as well.

The endless parade of men through the house, and the parties she threw were still talked about in hushed tones when Natalia and I were seen out and about on our street. But no one speaks ill of the dead here. Not in the South, and not in Verdant Glen. Accidents happen all the time.

Natalia’s mother is Blair and was my mother’s best friend. We’ve known each other since we were eleven. You could say that we’re close.

More than friends for sure. Blair and mothers’ parties were famous. Nearly everyone in our little haven has been in some compromising position over the past, we have proof of that. Including the two of us.

A sudden splash of ice-cold water across the front of my shirt knocks me from my thoughts as I see Natalia smiling. “Oops,” she says with faux-innocence, taking a lingering look down at my ever-stiffening nipples through the silky shirt.

“Fucking cunt!” I tell her with a laugh, as she licks her lips. “But I’m guessing from the look on your face that it worked. Should I go and ask him for a towel?” I ask her playfully, as I stand and walk toward him.

He tries to be polite, to not look, but he can’t help but glance. There’s no way he doesn’t notice. Hell, everyone in the cafeteria is staring, even the janitor with his yellow bucket and mop in hand.

“Mr. May, I’ve spilled water on my shirt.” I inform him, carefully watching his face for any expression. I love the restraint he’s trying so hard to pull off right now.

“Lisette, you can towel off in the bathroom.” His flat tone professional, carefully keeping his gaze above my head. But as hard as he tries, he can’t help himself from flitting his gaze toward my shirt once more, as I stand there until he does.

“Thank you Mr. May,” I say, and he knows what I’m thanking him for. I slowly lower my eyes to his crotch, seeing how well he was able to conceal the desire I knew was pulsing through him. The faint outline of something impressive is struggling inside his trousers right now.

As I turn to head back to Natalia, I catch him slightly adjust his stance. I’ve aroused him, and it makes me aroused, as I feel my panties moisten at the thought.

He’ll be thinking about me tonight for sure.

“Very well done.” Natalia remarks with a hunger in her eyes. “We’ve only one class left after lunch, should we ditch?” She asks, knowing that I want to. She knows everything about me.

“We may as well.” I decide, pushing the half-eaten salad away and grabbing my Louis Vuitton backpack. It’s not like anyone would notice or even care.

We do whatever the fuck we want. And if we ever do get in trouble, it’s usually overlooked, given that the new gym was recently renovated by two very wealthy benefactors that happen to have our last names.

The gunmetal Porsche cools off quickly, even in the Texas heat, which radiates in waves from every surface under the sun. And during this time of year, it never really stops shining. It’s nearly Summer, and our last year of High School before we both go off to Julliard next fall.

Natalia continues to pester me as we drive, gently flicking each of my nipples in turn until they’re nearly raw. “Goddamnit, bitch. I told you to stop!” I snarl over at her, as she continues to draw slow circles around her clitoris in the passenger seat. Teasing herself to the point where I’m at now.

“I can’t help myself.” She pouts at me, as I grip the wheel tighter. “You’ve gotten me all worked up, along with poor Mr. May.” She says with a childish giggle.

We’re nearly to Verdant Glen, the ornate gates opening at the click of the remote on my visor.

“Your house or mine?” I ask, although I don’t really care which. Claire is most likely watching her soaps, or passed out in her motorized chair, and we both know that Natalia’s mother is passed out drunk by this time of day.

“Mine. I have something I’ve been wanting to try.” She flicks my right nipple again, this time hard enough to make me flinch.

“Your house it is.” I agree, returning her flick with a none too tender pinch on her inner thigh, leaving a bright red welt, as she moans and cups her pussy in her own hand, slowly grinding against it.

“Keep that shit up and we’ll both come within seconds.” I warn her as she smiles. Although it’s actually the other way around once we get into her room. Natalia makes the rules in the bedroom, while I run the show in public and online.

We drive past the imposing mansions which line the street like a life-sized monopoly board. The high vestibules gracing the front of each brick porch, at the front of each stucco home, on each perfectly manicured lawn we pass. The perfect picturesque neighborhood, and all the dirty closed-door secrets that come along with the deeds.

Natalia’s house is no different, three houses down from mine, and conveniently catty corner to John’s. His is one of the first and the oldest in this tiny alcove, and smaller than the rest, right at the end of the cul-de-sac.

I pull up under the porte-cochere, next to her Lexus and behind her mother’s Land Rover. Both our mothers had married and divorced well. And both would probably meet the same fate, sipping martinis at the bar in hell or some shit like that, I think smugly.

“Grab my bag too.”

“Yeah, yeah.” I reach into the back seat and grab both bags. We don’t carry much in the way of books in our packs. They’re more for looks than anything. And status. Status is everything, even at school.

We take the stairs up to the pool house above the outdoor cabana alongside the oasis in the backyard. Memories of growing up splashing in that pool were some of the best I could remember from my childhood.

“Hi.” I stare at the little girl outside the open front door while the men are still moving in furniture and boxes.

“I’m Natalia, do you want to come swimming at my house?” She asks me with a smile.

“Sure. I’m Lisette,” I say, hollering for my mom, finally hearing her heels click against the marble entryway floor.

“Hi there, I’m Genevieve, Lisette’s mom.” My mother is beautiful, blonde hair like mine and bright blue eyes that sparkle with life. I can’t wait to grow up and be like her.

“I’m Natalia, can Lisette come to my house and go swimming?” She asks with a bright smile.

“Where do you live?” My mother asks, glancing out the front door as Natalia gestures.

“Just across the street, and I know my mom would like to say hi too, when she’s feeling better.” Natalia explains with a bit of hesitation.

“That would be lovely, we’re just moving in as you can tell.” My mother laughs, filling the foyer with sounds like music. “Lisette was worried she would have trouble making friends and look how that worked out!”

“How old are you?” I ask as we walk across the street, my beach towel in hand.

“Eleven.” She says, as we swing open the metal gate to the backyard and the tropical oasis. The waterfall cascading down the rocks, palm trees and real sand with beach chairs sit just above the sloping entrance into the pool. It’s like I’ve stepped into a world of magic.

“Me too! So we’ll be in the same grade.”

“And best friends!” She declares as I nod in agreement.

The smell of night blooming jasmine that floated up from the sagging blooms, white and fragile alongside the vibrant music that reverberated as we watched movies, peeking out the windows from time to time.

Watching the men and women, drunk on expensive champagne and fish scale cocaine, strip naked and give themselves over to pure pleasure, knowing somehow that we would be them one day.

The ten-foot-tall fence that bordered the property was like a refuge for wild animals, which perfectly described some of the things we’d witnessed growing up.

And being that the County Constable frequented Blair and mothers’ parties, he ensured that the gatherings never ended, and that the supply of sex and drugs was never interrupted.

We wanted what they had, the women in fine clothes and red-soled shoes, the ones who’s faces screamed in delight as they were fucked by random men over and again, while we watched it all from the safety of our hidden room above the pool.

That room was no longer for innocent slumber parties of thirteen-year-old girls. Although looking back, even those hadn’t been innocent for very long.

We were eighteen now, fully adult in our own minds, and fully fluent in the language of sensuality. We embraced who we were several years ago, as soon as my mother was laid to rest. Blind to who and what we were now.

We are the Nympthetamine Girls.