Author's Note: Just a one-shot I created for a prompt/challenge. I wrote this in a day. Then edited over the course of a week, or so. The challenge was to create a bizarre resolution.
^^; Thanks, Vena & Em, for your betaing. S2
Nude Model Needed
"I saw it, Chel."
Chelsea whipped her head around, crumpling the page of notebook paper she'd been writing on. Standing in her doorway was her twin, Sophie.
"Wh-what? Saw what?"
Nervous, Chelsea forced herself to relax. She didn't want sister dear getting any ideas.
She eased her hand off the crumpled piece of paper, refusing to smooth it out and sigh and draw more hearts. Sophie would just die of hilarity if she saw it.
"I saw it, my lovely twin."
"What did you see?" Comforted, Chelsea settled down. There was no way Sophie would dance around the bush like this if she'd known about her twin's resolution for the new year. No way.
"It was absolutely hot! Rock hard. Bigger than I expected. Better than I expected. Oh, dear lord, way better." Sophie stepped over the sneakers that littered Chelsea's floor, spinning in a circle before throwing herself onto the bed.
"…What, are you sexing up your tutor?" Shifting the drawer out from her desk, Chelsea dropped the ball of paper in. She glanced over to her twin to see if Sophie had noticed.
Stars – wait, no, more like hearts – in eyes. Sighing at the ceiling. Hands clasped over her breasts.
Definitely no way Sophie had noticed.
With a quiet sigh of relief, Chelsea turned around in her chair to face her exasperating twin.
"I was in the gym – you know, Student Council's handling the preparations for the Valentine's Ball. Anyway, we got there just as the wrestling team finished up and were heading into the locker rooms." Sophie glanced over at Chelsea to see if she was paying attention.
"Oh, just finish the story so I can get back to my mental masturbation, Sophie." Chucking a highlighter toward the bed, Chelsea resisted the urge to pull out another sheet of paper. There'd be no point in writing a revised list now that Nosey Sophie was in the room.
"Jesus, just be a killjoy, why don't you, babe? I need to set the scene, build it up. You have to see what I saw." Sophie flipped onto her stomach to see Chelsea better. And saw her hefting another highlighter. "Put down your weapon, or else I'm not telling you the rest."
Chelsea grinned and dropped it. "Fine, go on already. I'm just dying from the suspense."
"Can the sarcasm. Where was I? Abs? Wait, no. Nooo, I spoiled it." Covering her face with her hands, Sophie couldn't help the smile that had her lips spread ear to ear.
"Okay. Mental masturbation has been dropkicked to the curb." Chelsea scooted her rolling computer chair over to the bed. Prying Sophie's hands away from her face, Chelsea leaned in close. "You said abs. Whose abs are we talking about?"
"Only the hottest guy everrrrrrr in our senior class. I am going to nominate him as homecoming king and rape his hot body."
Chel gasped, "No. No way. You saw his abs? His abs?"
"Yes! Yes! And they were so incredibly ripped – so incredibly well-defined – I swear I could give each two-pack one of your bras, and it would fill them out better than your boobs!" Sophie giggled.
Rolling her eyes, Chelsea muttered, "We're twins, you retard. You realize you're just criticizing your own lack of mammary tissue, right?"
"Whatever. Point being is that I saw something God never meant for me to see. Not unless he wanted me in a rut, lusting after that poor male. He won't know what hit him now that I've seen the goods."
Chelsea squashed the jealousy that began to build. It was fine. She jumped ship from Student Council last year. Staying on the council just to see Kenneth's abs would be horrible of her. Yes. Absolutely sensual – selfish. Selfish. It would be absolutely selfish.
"I can't believe you got to see Kenneth's abs! I hate you."
Wrinkling her brows, Sophie stared at Chelsea.
"I didn't see Kenneth's anything."
A grin spread across Sophie's lips. She stood up and headed over to the desk.
"My love, my twin. You've been keeping a secret from me."
Chelsea grimaced. And waited for it. Might as well let the cat out of the bag.
Take Sophie to be the fine example of a smart blonde. A smart, perceptive blonde.
There. The slide of the drawer. The crinkle as paper was picked up. Oh, God. Now the unfolding, the smoothing, the chortle, the dubious laughter—
Glaring at the crumpled heap of paper in her desk drawer, Chelsea thwacked it with her pen. Then, she thwacked it again, and took satisfaction in the way it bounced.
She just knew Sophie would find out. Of course, her own big blabbering mouth just had to shoot off Kenneth's name when Sophie was talking about someone else's glorious abs. How was she supposed to know that her horny twin had a thing for Trent, and not the studly Kenneth? Jesus.
Keeping secrets? Hah! As if.
The idea behind her "secret" was simple: the fewer people that knew, the less chances of her plan being a flop. Well, that was shot to hell. Then again, she supposed that her "unique resolution" – as Sophie put it – would probably be easier to carry out with some help.
She snagged her pen and thwacked the paper ball again.
Her lips lifted at the corners.
"Um, okay. What are we doing in the shadiest corner of the cafeteria?" Lindsey chewed on her bottom lip, shuffled herself away from the wall as if the germs would come alive to whisk her away, and eyed the group of junior delinquents to her right.
"We are going to have a very short, very private conversation. That's what we're doing." Chelsea hooked arms with her two best friends, and dragged them outside the cafeteria doors and into the spill-out.
Picking the bench farthest away from any other groups, she led them there. It would be quiet since it faced the fields, and they could keep their privacy. Perfecto.
Sophie grinned. "Just wait, Linds. The information Chel's going to spill will not let you down. At all. Trust me."
Arching a beautifully threaded brow, Lindsey asked, "Oh? It sucks that you two are twins and never think to phone me as soon as something juicy happens."
Laughing – to Chelsea's chagrin – Sophie replied, "Linds, oh Linds. This is something best told in person."
"Well, get to it." Lindsey sat down, crossed her slim legs, and waited.
Sophie settled down beside her.
This wasn't something she could just tell them. Well, explain. They were her best friends, but she wasn't an extremely open person when it came to her feelings – specifically, feelings about guys.
"Okay. Well, you see. It's about this person… that I've been thinking about."
Once she noticed Lindsey's eye twitch, she elaborated, "Okay, that I've been slightly thinking about… intimately."
"And?" Curiosity lined Lindsey's body. She hadn't heard a peep from either twin about Chelsea having a crush. Ever. This was news.
"Um, I may have picked a resolution centering around this one individual." Chelsea twisted the fabric of her cardigan in her hands. She wrinkled – if not wrinkled, then sweated – lines into the material.
She glanced between her two best friends.
"Okay, I have a crush. And, since it's the start of a new year, I made up this quirky resolution."
There. Now she only had to explain what the resolution was, and whom it was based around.
"And?" Lindsey urged. Frustration had her standing up and gripping Chelsea's hands. "And?"
"And, I need your help to fulfill this resolution, Lindsey. You and Sophie."
"Well, doesn't it just get better? You know, by the time we're done with all this foreplay, I may be dead, Chels. Sophie, help me out or I may never get the expositional orgasm I'm looking for." Exasperated, Lindsey sat back down.
Sophie shook her head, laughter pealing out from behind the hands clamped over her mouth. "Oh-oh-oh, God. I just couldn't. I just can't. This is something you need to hear from her, no matter how long it takes. This is just priceless." More giggles overflowed her words. "Although, with the time it took for me to get it out of her, last night, I completely understand you. I wanted to bludgeon her with her tennis racket."
Stifling the rest of her laughter, Sophie waved her hands. "Continue, do continue. You can't leave Linds out of the loop now."
Chelsea expected to hear her cardigan rip. She looked down at the ends of her red sweater, sure that her faced complemented the color.
"My resolution this year is to be less shy. But, specifically, I want to…." She had glanced up to look at Lindsey, to look her in the eye and let her know this was serious, not a metaphor for sex, or something silly or inane. At least, not to her.
But then she'd noticed movement behind Sophie and Lindsey, and all brain-to-mouth functions ceased.
Her face flamed altogether for a different reason.
Oh, boy, oh, boy.
Kenneth was jogging down the football field, long legs covering the distance with ease and speed. Running in just a ribbed tank and gym shorts. Ribbed tank. Cut arms. Cut shoulders. Mmmmmm.
Frustrated that the damn girl wasn't speaking any more – and sure that Chelsea needed the information pried out with sharpened tweezers – Lindsey stood up, ready to slip her best friend into a choke hold if the information wasn't forthcoming in the next five seconds.
But then Chelsea stepped away, her amber eyes locked on something over Lindsey's shoulders. Chelsea's lips were still rounded in a slight 'O' when Lindsey turned around to see what had caught this suddenly flighty girl's attention.
Or, should she ask whom?
She caught gazes with Sophie, and tilted her head towards the man of the hour.
Biting down on her lip to avoid laughing out loud, Sophie nodded.
Leaning back on her heels, Lindsey surveyed the boy who'd sucked away all of Chelsea's neurons.
Spinning around, she pushed a finger into Chelsea's shoulder, snapping the other girl's attention back to the girls around her.
The plan, the plan. The resolution. Mmm, just wait. She'd—
"Wait, huh? What?" Chelsea blinked.
Surprise. Part panic. "What are you talking about?"
"Ken-neth," Lindsey enunciated, shoving her manicured index finger into Chelsea's shoulder for, what, the fourth time?
Lifting both brows, Chelsea placed her hand over her chest. "No. Chelsea." She patted herself on the chest. "Chelllll-seeea."
Pointing at Lindsey, she sounded out slowly, "Liiin-dsey."
Lindsey narrowed her eyes just as Sophie laughed. "Haha, very funny Chelsea Morgan."
"Oh, Christ, Chel. Just tell Lindsey what the hell it was you wrote on that paper before she skins you with her nail file."
Man, what happened to blood is thicker than water?
"Alright, alright. Jesus. I just wanttotakeapictureofKennethinhisunderwear."
Startled, Lindsey's eyes widened. "Wait, what? Run that by me again?" Her mouth twitched. "You want to do what to that poor, innocent boy?"
"Oh, shut up. He's probably as innocent as you are a virgin in cosmetics usage."
"Well, yes, but to do that to that poor, unassuming boy, who probably thinks you're a shy little girl who likes to play tennis and draw. Why, Chelsea, I didn't know you had this in you." Lindsey's breath hitched on the last word. Her shoulders shook and her hands grasped at Sophie's.
And, like a duet, Sophie and Lindsey's laughter bubbled out at the same time.
Disgruntled, Chelsea shrugged. "It's not a big deal."
She watched as the two girls continued cracking their ribs in glee at her resolution.
"If you two would just can the laughing, we could get onto the important part."
"Holy. Oh, God. I think my abs are getting the workout of a lifetime this week. Hearing it this second time was even better." Sophie swiped at her eyes, giggling still.
"Okay, okay. What I can't get over is the fact that you don't just want a picture of him hanging on your wall, but that you specified, 'in his underwear.'" Lindsey leaned over her knees, slapping the bench with both hands as she went down, laughing.
"Jesus, Linds. You should have seen her last night. She had worked out this whole plan on a sheet of paper, had angles set up, a red herring to lure him into the right spot in the locker room after wrestling practice – the lighting you know, a very, very important detail since she can't use a flash camera—" A smile broke through, followed by another round of laughter. "Christ, Christ. The plan. Her plan!" Sophie crowed.
Chelsea slumped onto the bench and shook her head, and decided to wait out their insanity.
"Guys, lunch is almost over, and I'd like to finish explaining about the plan, A-sap." Grumbling, Chelsea rolled her eyes and slid off the bench. "Okay, when you guys are done, I'll be finished eating and in class."
"In his underwear!" Lindsey laughed, but got up to go after Chelsea.
"No, wait, wait. Aw, Chelsea, don't be like that. We're just messing with you." Grinning hard, Sophie caught up and swung an arm around Chelsea's shoulders. "You know that when you need us, even if it's to do something potentially illegal, like taking photos of a man bare-ass naked, we'll be there for you."
Nervously glancing around, Chelsea elbowed her twin in the ribs. "Shhh. And I don't want him naked, for Christ's sake. I just want to be able to visually gobble up his physique whenever I want to."
"I can't believe this is what you wanted as your new year's resolution. You are twisted, sis. Absolutely twisted." Bumping brows with Chelsea, Sophie crooned, "I love it."
Lindsey buffed her nails against the material of her skirt. "Look, with us two to back you up, we can have him strung up in your bed, oiled up and begging you to bang him, if you wanted. We'll figure it out. Don't you worry."
The determined look in Lindsey's eyes scared Chelsea.
And had her heart thumping a hundred beats a minute.
What had she done?
"No! Stop. Noo!"
Her jeans were stripped from her legs.
"God, that hurts. This is too much. I can't do this."
Her breasts were abused until they were flattened. Molested, that's what.
"O-o-oh! This is rape! Gender – no, identity rape!"
Sophie arched an eyebrow and hit her sister in the face with the jersey she'd been holding.
"Shut up, or I'm marching over to Kenneth to tell him what a slut you are."
"You wouldn't." Grinning, Chelsea slipped the jersey over her head, and over the tank top she had on. "Sorry, couldn't help myself. Getting nervous about this boy-meets-boy escapade you guys came up with."
Glancing down, she had to admit that with the bandages wrapped around her torso, she was a straight line down her front side. Not a bump in sight on her chest, to her acute displeasure. She had a small waist, but heck if you could see that through the baggy jersey. And her hips? And her toned thighs and calves? Gone, beneath shorts and invisible with the pair of ratty sweats she had on.
"Okay, run through the plan for me again. My brain is freezing up like a bad PC," Chelsea murmured.
Lindsey, observing the twins from her seated position on Chelsea's bed, started, "We're heading back to campus at four-thirty when varsity wrestling is done with their practice. We give the jocks half an hour to chat, compare dick measurements, change, and get out."
"Then," Sophie picked up, "you are going to slip into the locker room when we give you the go ahead. Look like a boy. Become a boy, Chelsea. That way if there are stragglers, you won't look out of place. So, you keep your head down, your hips from swaying, your left leg crippled while you walk to look ghetto, and head for the showers."
Jesus, Jesus, Jesus.
What on earth was she doing?
Chelsea bunched the hem of the Miami Heat jersey in her hands.
Her face lit up like Rudolph's nose as she contemplated what Kenneth's personal choice of underwear could be: boxers, briefs, or boxer-briefs?
"Then, since we've observed that he tends to be last, coming out of the gym, you will wait in a stall until you hear him belt out with his daily tune. According to our mutual friend, Austin, it changes depending on his mood, but he sings without fail once all the other boys are out, and just as he's stripping. Once that gets going, you jump out, snap a picture, run for the girl's locker room, and we'll save you from there."
"Simple as pie, Chels. Now, it's almost four-thirty. Are you ready?"
Something terrible gleamed in Lindsey's expression. But Chelsea couldn't pinpoint what it was.
She could trust them.
So she ignored it.
Oh, gosh. Oh, Christ.
Chelsea was in way over her head.
Standing outside the boy's locker room brought things into perspective. She could be caught! Kenneth could buy into the she-male get up and pop some sweet wrestling move and have her wiped out and knocked out. Did they even have one-hit KOs in wrestling, or was that only boxing?
What if he reported her?
What if someone else saw her?
She glanced around the hallway, empty save for the trash on the floor.
Shit, and the bindings itched like a mother. Sliding a hand up her shirt to scratch at it, she realized with dread that she'd tugged the binding loose.
Oh, what the hell. It wasn't like her breasts would be obvious anyway. And the bindings were damned itchy.
Just as she pulled off the rest of the bandages, her cell phone vibrated in the pocket of her sweats.
She pulled it out, and picked it up, dropping the useless bandages on the floor.
"It's a green, Chelsea! Good luck!" Sophie's voice sang out through her cell, followed by a resounding click.
This was it.
She felt her hair to make sure not a wisp of blonde hair had escaped the beanie she had on. Checked her other pocket for the digital camera. Kept her head down, and opened the door.
"Kenneth Grant, ready or not, here I come."
Taking a deep breath, she stepped into the locker room.
The scent overwhelmed her.
Taking shallow breaths in and out from her mouth, Chelsea tried not to contemplate the fact that what a person smelled were particles of the actual thing itself. She wasn't inhaling or eating microscopic particles of sweat or mold or old gym clothes. No way.
She headed for the showers and kept her head down – more to try and bury her nose in the scent of the jersey than to keep her face out of sight.
The boy's locker room was the exact reverse of the girl's locker room. Heading straight for the showers, she'd expected Kenneth to start singing any moment now. Certainly, she hadn't expected to see anyone.
But she did.
She saw feet.
And as her gaze froze on such obviously male feet, her eyes crawled inch by inch up the legs attached to said feet.
Calves. Toned. Ooh.
Thiiiighs. Well. Sculpted. Thighs. Very nice.
Her eyes crossed as they took in a very interesting cock.
Centered on a pair of boxer briefs, with a couple chicks and hens surrounding it.
Haha. She'd almost choked. Although, that answers one question.
Her gaze continued its trek, drinking in the sight of deliciously tanned and toned abdominals and obliques.
Oh, boy. She was in no way legal for this stuff. She was getting drunk off the sight of him.
Pectorals. Defined pecs. With little erect nipples.
Oh, dear God.
She hadn't signed up for this.
Hadn't signed up to see his strong neck, corded with muscle. And that delicious hollow at the base of his throat, just temping her to nibble on it and along his collarbone.
And his arms! With his hands settled on his hips, his entire body screamed, "What are you looking at?" But, look at those arms. The shadows created by his triceps were, in a word, mouth-watering.
But she couldn't stop. Not until she got the full picture. Though, it did cross her mind that she ought to stop staring and flee.
She jerked her stare up to his face, studying his chin. His sharp jawline. His wide cheekbones, straight nose, and yummily full mouth. Which, you know, currently looked a bit amused.
And, oh, boy. Look at those gorgeous blue eyes, the shaggy head full of black hair – hair she wanted to slide her fingers through, bury her nose in because surely it smelled as good as he looked.
Chelsea's stomach turned over a few times while her heart thumped La Cucaracha against her ribcage.
Caught up in his dark blue gaze, she had a sudden moment of fight or flight. This was all too much. His effect on her senses weren't natural, and if her heart beat any faster, she'd have heart failure.
Her hands trembled as they clutched the digital camera.
This was it.
She hit the Power button of the camera, jerked her hand up and snapped a picture without checking to see if his entire body even fit into the photo.
"Sorry," she squeaked, and sprinted for the locker room's exit.
Rushing for the door, she tugged on the handle.
And tugged again.
Wrenched at it.
Oh, God. Why were the doors locked?
To her horror, she heard footsteps approaching her, slowly, calmly.
Oh, God, Oh, God.
She squeezed her eyes shut, mortified to be caught like this.
He'd punch her now, thinking she was some pervert with a penchant for high school boys. Then it'd be Lights Out for Chelsea Morgan.
Trembling, with her hands still holding the doorknob, she winced when the footsteps stopped moving.
Spinning around to face him – she had that much courage, at least – her mouth dropped as Kenneth yanked the beanie off her head.
Blonde curls tumbled around her face, just as she gasped.
With a cocked eyebrow, Kenneth leaned in and placed his palms on the door behind her, an arm on either side of her. Caged by his body, Chelsea blushed and grappled for words – anything – to explain what she was doing.
"So, what have we here?"
The depth of his voice sent shivers up and down her spine. He wasn't perfection, but damn her if he wasn't close enough to it, in her opinion.
"Ahahaha…." She laughed, forcing a smile as she lifted her head to look him in the eye. Her knees quaked.
She was so dead.
"Chelsea Morgan, is this what you like to do for fun? Hmm?" One hand moved from the door and trailed a path down her cheek to cup her chin. His hands were rough, but warm, and she wasn't sure what he was trying to do.
But, boy, oh boy, she liked it.
"I-I'm not a pervert. Okay, maybe I am. But, you see, I just wanted to get a picture. Of you. And if you're horribly inconvenienced by it, I can just delete it. You can delete it, if you want to make sure. And, um, I promise not to do this again if you promise not to knock me out."
Oh, nerves. How intelligent they made her sound. Ashamed, she swatted his hand aside and dropped her gaze, too appalled to look at him.
"Are we even if I get to have a picture of you?" Kenneth moved closer.
Her brain stuttered. She wasn't sure if it was due to his movement, or his question.
Chelsea inhaled. For someone who had just finished wrestling for an hour, he sure smelled divine. Good deodorant, or cologne? Who knew?
"Chelsea, look at me, please."
Incapable of denying him, she hesitantly did as he requested.
"I'm not mad, so just calm down." He caught her wrist, circling it with his much larger hand. "I have to admit, I expected this."
Shocked, Chelsea spluttered, "What?!"
"You girls aren't very good at keeping secrets, you know. And, I suppose Lindsey may have set you up for this a bit."
What on earth was he talking about?
"Chelsea Morgan, I like you."
"And just like you, I'm going to do something about it. Although, I admit I'll be more straightforward about it," he said wryly.
He bent down, his mouth centimeters away from hers. "Tell me to stop now, if you don't want this."
Staring at him, she couldn't form any words.
He waited a beat before sliding his hands around her waist.
Waited another beat before pulling her gently forward, flush against his body.
Maybe silence was answer enough.
Waited one last beat before pressing his lips against hers.
She moaned softly against his mouth before slipping her arms around his neck.
The camera clattered to the floor.
"Are you getting this?" Sophie whispered, excitement and adrenaline leaving her frazzled.
"Yes, I am, Sophie." Lindsey motioned Sophie to be quiet and continued the video recording of the two lovebirds having a heavy duty makeout session.
"You know, she's probably going to kill us once the lust dissipates and she realizes what we did." Grinning, Sophie watched the two with a twinge of envy. She wouldn't mind landing a kiss like that on Trent.
"Sweetheart, with the way he's kissing her face off, I think she'll be praising us 'til the end of time." Lindsey turned the recording off just as Chelsea and Kenneth ended their kiss. Standing up, she brushed off the dust and dirt from her jeans and held out a hand for Sophie.
"Now, my dear best friend, about you and Trent…"
The end! :D
Hope you liked it. Let me know what you thought! :)