A Cheerleader in the Hood Ch. 02

CHAPTER 2: I am given a new uniform and travel to a new part of town

In my absence Chloe and friends had forced open my locker, and all of my things - clothes, money, keys, 'phone, purse, make-up and so on - had been emptied out.

In their place was just a shoe-box, with a post-it note attached.

With a sinking heart I read the note.

"Dear Little Miss Goodie Two-Shoes,

We couldn't wait for you any longer. What were you doing in there with Coach? (as if we didn't know, slut!).

We've gone to the restaurant to set up your squad dare. We've ordered you a pre-paid cab. Go to the Sake Lounge where we will give you your stuff back in exchange for a forfeit.

P.S. As an extra penalty for being Coach's slut, we decided that you don't get to wear panties.

Love and kisses,

Chloe."

I smiled ruefully, trying to compose myself.

I dried myself down a little and cleaned myself up before opening the package. I felt my heart sink even lower as I saw the outfit that I was to wear.

The most conspicuous part of it were a pair of bright red, high-heeled shoes. I wondered where Chloe had got them, and how difficult it would be to walk in them. My highest heels, those that I wore for special occasions, were not even half the height of these.

The other items in the shoe-box were two scraps of cotton. On further examination they revealed themselves to be a skirt and a crop top. Eager to be wearing something at least, I put them on.

The skirt was bright red, matching the heels, and absurdly short. On the front and back of it was a motif, a diagonal cross in blue, with each limb of the cross containing white stars. It was even shorter than our official uniforms, which were already, in my opinion, too short to wear off the field. Furthermore it was split on one side, all the way up to the waist band with two buttons, one white and one blue, just an inch or so apart, all that held it together.

It brought a new meaning to the term 'skimpy', and I was in little doubt that wearing such a mockery of a skirt, without panties, in a public restaurant, would be a nightmare.

I put on the crop top, which was tight and low cut, revealing plenty of my cleavage and also baring my midriff. It was also held together by a couple of buttons, at the front, in the middle, which made it easy to put on, but it seemed as if they might give way at any moment. I strongly suspected that Chloe had especially chosen one that was a size or two too small for me. It would be just like her. It had the same diagonal cross motif as the skirt.

I checked the corners of my ransacked locker.

Nothing.

I sighed again then sat down and began to put the heels on. I knew that it would require careful concentration just to walk in them.

Once I had the heels in place I stood and, wriggling, pulled the skirt as far down upon my hips as I could make it go, straining the little blue and white buttons as I did so. Even when I had pulled it down so that they were practically popping off it was still only just long enough to afford any basic decency and I could see that even the slightest breeze was going to compromise my modesty severely.

The anticipation of being out in public wearing such an ensemble, no doubt coupled with the memory of my encounter with Coach Lafitte seemed to combine to send an insistent surge of sudden desire through my body.

Almost without knowing I was doing it, my hand was gliding over my right breast, feeling my nipple hard and projecting through the tight top. My fingers sliding down over my taut, bared midriff. I tilted my head back slightly and parted my lips, feeling down still further over the thin material of my skirt, and then up and underneath it.

I moaned quietly as the questing tips of my fingers found the little nut of my protruding love bud. I felt a quake of excitement course through my provocatively clad body. I ran my finger back and forth over the hard little nut of flesh. Then I caught sight of myself in the changing room mirror, standing, knees bent, hand exploring under my tiny skirt. For a moment I thought that I might climax there and then.

It was as if sucking off Coach Lafitte had triggered something deep within me. I had always been a shy girl, determined not to do anything that might be regarded as 'naughty' or 'scandalous', and yet I had just pleasured a black man, much older than I, at his command, nude upon my knees, my hands behind my back.

Now, just thinking about it, here I was wantonly touching myself in the squad changing room.

These did not seem to be at all the actions of a shy, demure, English rose, and yet, as I glanced down at my half-clad body once more, I whimpered softly, and almost without realising that I was doing so, pressed my slim fingers inside myself, pushing gently. The muscles of my dripping sex contracted about them, as I began to work back and forth. A further, louder, moan of pleasure escaped my parted lips and I threw back my head and closed my eyes tightly, allowing the thrilling sensations to wash over me.

I was lost in the pleasure that my actions were eliciting from my body. I groaned loudly, my breasts pressing forward against the thin fabric of the crop top. I knew that my climax was already close, and that it was going to be immense. I began to move faster and faster, ramming my hips forward, lost in myself, oblivious to everything except my wanton desires. I felt the juices from my sex soaking my fingers.

"You order taxi, girlie?"

I gasped, opening my eyes to see that, to my shame and mortification, a man was standing at the changing room door!

He was bearded, and wore foreign dress including a turban. He was staring at me with a mixture of shock, contempt, and lust.

I quickly moved my hands away from between my legs. I did not know whether he had knocked, nor how much of my lascivious exhibition he had witnessed.

I'm sure that I blushed crimson.

"Y...yes, Sir," I stammered.

"You late," he said, "Taxi only paid to go to Downtown, not to wait for long time."

I recalled the note from Chloe saying that a pre-paid taxi had been ordered to take me to the restaurant for my squad dare.

"I...I'm sorry," I said, lamely, "I was getting ready."

I got unsteadily to my feet, still aflame with desire, and tottered over to the door in the high heels. I could feel my juices trickling down the inside of my thighs and hoped desperately that they wouldn't show beneath the little skirt.

As we stepped outside I feared the slightest breeze as we walked from the changing room to where the man's cab was waiting. How long had he been standing there? Oh God! And yet still I felt on tenterhooks, on the very brink of a precipice of arousal, my body practically quivering as I, trying to ignore his staring gaze, climbed awkwardly into the back seat of his vehicle.

He got into the front seat and I could see him checking my body out in his rear-view mirror.

"Where you want go?" he asked, brusquely.

"Th...the Sake Lounge?" I said, nervously. I fortunately remembered that that was where the note had said they were going.

"Where you say?" asked the cabbie truculently.

I repeated the name of the place and then spelt it out.

"S...A...K...E...Lounge,"

The driver nodded, "Okay, gashti, I know that place. I see that place many times. I take you there."

I found it amazing that in Bayton the taxi drivers seemed to want a medal simply for knowing where places were. Surely that was a basic part of their job? In this case, I was glad that he knew where it was, as I had no idea. It had been talked about before, being one of the squad hang-outs, and I knew that it was a swish and overpriced sushi restaurant, although I had never been invited along before.

I guessed the reason that this particular restaurant had been chosen for my dare was that I had let slip that I disliked sushi. No doubt Chloe's plan was to make me eat some. I was sure that I could probably manage to eat a little of the disgusting stuff. Perhaps they might give me my clothes and other possessions back first. I wasn't really familiar with what squad dares entailed. Surely they didn't try to embarrass you too much? We were all meant to be on the same team after all.

It was quite a long journey and the driver seemed to spend more time looking in his rear-view mirror than anything else, and several times he almost drifted off the road.

Still aflame from my antics in the changing room, I found myself practically squirming in the back seat of his cab, my sex still wet and throbbing. I tried to think of other things to calm myself down a little, but it was exceedingly difficult to do so, dressed as I was. I pressed my bare legs tightly together to try to stop him looking up my skirt. I didn't dare cross them. I felt like a taut bowspring, my body in a kind of delicious torment, as if some sort of hot trigger had been pulled deep inside me.

I just couldn't get out of my head the way that I had felt kneeling before Coach Lafitte, my hands behind me, servicing him with my lips and tongue, desperate to persuade him to sign my replacement visa application form. I was sure that I had been on the very brink of the most glorious feelings in my life, yet it had been shattered by the sudden appearance of this gruff, disapproving cabbie.

I was practically panting as I sat, unable to suppress a slight whimper that brought another disapproving look from the rear-view mirror. Determinedly I suppressed the strong urging that almost seemed to come independently from my fingers - to allow them to recommence their delicious and salacious explorations.

After what seemed an age the cab pulled to a halt and the man hurried out and almost ran round to open the door for me.

"This the place," he said.

He waited for me to get out, and I blushed, guessing that he was not opening the door for me out of simple courtesy.

I have no doubt that his excessive vigilance for my welfare was rewarded as I attempted the practically impossible task of manoeuvring myself out of his cab without displaying all of my charms and assets.

Once I managed to get out, he stood there, obviously waiting for a tip. I shrugged my shoulders, nervously.

"You are pre-paid, aren't you?"

"Tip not pre-paid," he said.

"Well I'm sorry," I said, "but I don't have any money for a tip."

He scowled. I wondered for a moment if he was going to demand the same sort of services as I had given to Coach Lafitte, this time in exchange for a tip. In my heightened state of arousal I might even have complied!

Partly to my relief he walked back to his cab.

"Seeing you fucking yourself have to be my tip, gashti," he cackled, dismissively, as he climbed in and quickly pulled away.

So he had seen me! Even without anyone around I felt myself cringe with embarrassment and mortification. What sort of girl allows herself to be caught masturbating in a public place? The same sort as sucks off her coach so that he reapplies for her visa, I thought to myself.

I looked around to find myself standing on a street very different to those that I had previously encountered in America.

Whereas the university sector of Bayton abounded with designer clothes stores, coffee shops and hair salons, here it seemed that almost every shop front was boarded up. The few that were not had heavy grilles in front of them, and revealed themselves to be mostly pawn shops and so forth.

The road itself was full of pot-holes, and the few cars parked on the side of it were generally burnt out and derelict. Some of the vehicles had bricks propping them up rather than wheels.

All that I wore was the pair of bright red six inch heels, the matching little skirt and the crop top.

I could hardly have been more conspicuous had I been totally nude.

There was a gust of wind, and I felt my little red skirt blow up. I tried to hold it down and desperately hoped that no-one was watching me from the dingy alleyways that branched off from the street every few yards.

I shivered, glad that the thoroughfare seemed deserted. It seemed a very strange venue in which to locate a fashionable sushi restaurant, although I knew that shabby chic, distressed warehouse walls and such, were all the rage. There was an old-fashioned, no doubt fashionably retro, neon sign that said "Sake Lounge". The 'S' was made up of what looked like a large green eel. I thought with some trepidation that pretty soon I would probably find myself swallowing eel or even worse if the squad dare went as I expected.

I sighed to myself. I didn't want to go through with it, yet it seemed that I would have to, if I wished to reclaim my possessions from Chloe and the others. Perhaps too, once I had eaten the sushi, or whatever other forfeit she had in mind, I would be accepted more by the rest of the squad. Even so, just to enter a crowded restaurant dressed as I was seemed an ordeal, and I hesitated, trying to get myself ready for whatever lay ahead.

To my dismay, one of the scruffiest, ugliest men that I had ever seen lurched out of the alleyway closest to me and staggered towards me.

"Hey, Blondie! How 'bout a buck for a cup o' coffee?"

I shuddered. He was one of the most disgusting examples of humanity that I had ever encountered. I could smell the pungent aroma of strong alcohol on his breath, mixed with the even more unpleasant smell from his unwashed body and ragged clothes.

I absolutely loathe being solicited in the street for money. Have these people no shame?

"I...I...don't have any money on me, Sir," I replied, which at least was true in this instance.

He squinted at me.

"H...hey," he said, "You're...you're a cheerleader, ain't cha? You girls always put it about, how 'bout a li'l kiss or somethin, doll?"

He lurched towards me, and got a hand on the top of my skirt. I managed to shake it free, but as I did so, I felt a hard digit take the opportunity, with my defences down, as it were, to grope between my legs, and a goosing finger suddenly exploring my still moist private area. Desperately I pushed him away, and he, unsteady on his feet, lurched back. To my intense relief his finger dislodged from my love hole. I backed towards the door of the bar.

"Hey, look Blondie, you're all wet! I make you hot, huh?" He waved his dripping finger accusingly, and then lunged for me once more.

In my high heels I knew that I had no hope of outrunning him. I had only one option. Any reservations that I might have had about entering the venue were dispelled there and then.

If I could just get in I would be in a public place with the rest of the squad, and safe from the unwanted attentions of this horrid tramp. I pushed open the door and went in, turning to close it forcefully in his face.

For a moment I leant with my back to the door, panting a little, trying to catch my breath. I expected him to try and force open the door, but no pressure came. I saw dim shapes through a fug of smoke. I had never seen anyone smoking inside a bar in the University District, and had thought it to be illegal. A television in a corner of the bar was showing a basketball match. On one side there was a small raised area like a stage, that for some reason had a pole in the middle of it. I had never been in such a dingy looking establishment.

There was a hum of conversation that stopped just after I came through the door.

I had the uncomfortable feeling that every eye in the room was turning to stare at me. I squinted through the smoky gloom, but could see no sign of Chloe and the others anywhere. As far as I could make out through the smoky fug, every face was black. In addition, the expressions on their faces as they took me in seemed to be of disdain or even outright hostility. Several shook their heads as if in disgust. As a strikingly pretty girl, I could never recall provoking such a reaction when entering a bar. For an instant I felt my nerve diminish somewhat and briefly considered turning tail, but then remembered the disgusting hobo who would still no doubt be lurking outside.

I swallowed, hard, trying to settle my fluttering tummy, then made for the bar counter trying to look less nervous than I felt, smoothing down my little red skirt with the blue diagonal white starred cross motif.