Pressure - By Jeff Strand Page 0,14

was watching the guy scratch an alternate cheek?

But what if the door got stuck the next time and they couldn’t close it again? Or what if one of the women came outside? What if that happened mere seconds after we left?

“There’s something else we could do,” said Darren.

“What?”

“Knock.”

“We’d get in trouble.”

“Not if you ran fast enough. Just knock and hurry back here. They won’t catch us.”

“Why don’t you do it?”

“I’ve already seen inside.”

“Right, so it won’t matter if you don’t get to see it while you’re running.”

“You’re the one who wants to see in there,” said Darren. “Don’t worry; I’ll make sure you don’t get caught.”

“How?”

“I just will. I promise. C’mon, go up there and knock.”

Since Darren had dragged me along to this place without telling me where we were going, there was a definite flawed logic to the whole “you’re the one who wants to see in there” line of thinking. I also had very serious doubts about his ability to make sure I didn’t get caught, considering that he would be hiding thirty feet away. I tried to express both of these arguments, but somewhere the line of communication between my mouth and brain was disrupted, and my response was far less articulate than I would have liked: “Uh-uh.”

“Fine,” said Darren, pushing himself up to a kneeling position. “We’d probably better get going anyway.”

“You’re right,” I agreed, unwilling to back down.

Darren looked over at the building and shook his head sadly. “Biggest tits I ever saw,” he said, and then started to walk toward the railroad tracks.

He was bluffing. He was definitely bluffing. There was absolutely no question in my mind that he was bluffing…at least for his first two steps. Then I decided that he wasn’t bluffing at all and that if I didn’t act quickly I’d rob myself of this golden opportunity.

“Okay, okay,” I said. Darren looked back over his shoulder at me and smiled. Not the excited smile of a twelve-year-old who might get to see a naked stripper, but the smug smile of somebody who’d convinced his friend to do something against his will. It was, truth be told, a little bit unnerving. But then the smile vanished and his expression turned serious. “All right, I’ll watch your back,” he said, returning to his spot on the ground. “Just knock a few times, loud, and then run back here.”

I nodded, took a deep breath, and walked toward the building. Technically, this wasn’t as bad as stealing condoms. There was nothing illegal about knocking on the back door of a strip club and running away, at least as far as I knew. Of course, if I got caught and they called Branford Academy, I’d be screwed in a very big way.

I walked up to the door.

I raised my hand.

I looked back at Darren, who nodded his approval.

I took another deep breath.

I knocked once, twice—

The door opened.

Suddenly I found myself staring directly at a sweat-stained white T-shirt. The ugly guy, one hand out of sight behind him, looked down at me and coughed.

My first and second instincts were to run and to pass out, respectively. I did neither, and instead just stood there in shock.

“Yeah?” the guy asked.

“I…” I managed to blurt out, or at least something that sounded like that particular vowel.

“This ain’t no place for kids,” the guy said. “Whaddya want?”

“I just need to use the phone,” I heard myself say, which was a pretty good cover considering that my brain had stopped functioning.

The guy shook his head. “Can’t help ya. Go someplace else.”

“Yes, sir.”

There was movement behind the guy, and I peeked past him. A woman stood there, with long black hair. She was incredibly beautiful, was covered with a thick sheen of perspiration, and was absolutely, completely, gloriously naked. I’d seen plenty of naked women in movies and a couple of times in magazines, but this was my first time seeing one in real life. There were no surprises, anatomically, but the experience was entirely different.

I’m pretty sure I gasped.

The woman made eye contact with me, placed her hands on her hips, and winked.

The guy glanced back at her briefly, then smiled, revealing dark yellow teeth. “Get the fuck outta here, kid,” he told me as he shut the door.

I stood there for a long moment.

“Alex!” said Darren in a stage whisper. “Get over here!”

I didn’t want to go back to Darren. I wanted to cherish the memory of what I’d just seen. But I also didn’t want the ugly guy to