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Raging Hard

By:B. B. Hamel

Chapter One: Claire


The bass made a booming thud in my ears, rhythmic and hypnotizing, as I leaned back in my plush-covered chair behind the VIP rope. I sipped my champagne, feeling totally out of place in the club despite everything being owned by my dad.

"Oh my god, bitch, I love this," Lydie said, practically screeching in my ear.

"You do?"

"Yeah, girl! It's hot as fuck."

I could agree with that one. It was hot as hell in the club considering it was jam-packed with people all writhing away to the music. Other than that, though, it wasn't my scene. I wasn't against partying or any of that, but I preferred something a little quieter, maybe a spot I could actually think and hear people when they spoke. Not this mass of drugged-up strangers all trying desperately to get in with each other.

"See him?" Lydie cut into my thoughts, leaning over me. "That beefcake is totally checking me out."

She winked and waved at the guy, and he grinned back at her.

"Ew. Are you joking?" I asked.

"Hell no. Look at those muscles!"

"Lydie, he's like fifty."

"Thirty at most. And who cares, so long as he takes care of himself?"

I laughed and eyed up the guy. He probably was in his mid-thirties and wore expensive-looking madras shorts and an expensive-looking white Oxford shirt with an expensive-looking watch, all of which I knew Lydie absolutely had noticed before she saw his muscles. He was tanned and preppy and good looking in a really conventional way, and I could totally see him doing Jaeger bombs with his bros or possibly killing a hooker by mistake. The longer I looked at him, the more sure I was that he had killed at least one hooker in his lifetime.

The Outer Banks were full of guys like him, especially in the clubs and restaurants my dad owned. They were all the same, money managers and investment bankers and hedge-fund assholes all trying to get blackout drunk and impregnate the first thing they could find.

Of course, once they got their rocks off, they disappeared the next morning. Which was fine, if you were into that. And Lydie was, or at least she pretended she was. Truthfully, I hadn't seen her go home with very many guys at the end of the night. She was more bark than bite.

Me though, I was totally disgusted by the whole thing. It felt like such a weird transaction; plus, I'd never met a guy I was into enough to want to risk getting choked to death or something by a psycho I'd just met. Those hedge-fund assholes cared more about coming on your back than they did about making you feel good.

Not like I had a lot of experience, mind you, but I'd noticed a thing or two in my time.

"Oh, and he has a friend," Lydie said in a singsong voice in my ear.

"No way, Lydie."

"Come on. They're cute and clearly rich."

"Not my type. Not even close."

She made a face. "What is your type, anyway? Or do you just bang your calculator every night?"

I laughed, shaking my head. It was the summer before our senior year and Lydie was always making fun of me for putting studying and classwork ahead of everything else. Especially ahead of sex.

"Seriously, Claire, when are you going to put out? It's more than time."

"I'll ‘put out' eventually. Just not with those guys." I made a face at her choice of words.

"Come on! We have to pop that cherry before you end up a spinster."

"I don't mind knitting, though."

"Oh sure, it's all knitting and book groups until you die of a heart attack alone in your house and thirty cats eat your body." She paused to sip her drink. "You do not want to be remembered as the dead cat lady."

"Gross. I don't even like cats."

"It doesn't matter; cats are attracted to virginity. You'll end up with hundreds!"

I laughed and shook my head as Lydie began to wave at the two prep school douches. They came over and Lydie got the bouncer to let them through into the VIP. I sighed, annoyed that she was already ruining our night, and took another sip of my champagne. I had looked forward to a night out with just her and me, but she clearly had other intentions when she had insisted we go to my dad's club.

"Claire," Lydie said, "this is Mike. And I didn't get this one's name." She giggled and jabbed a finger into the original guy's chest.

"I'm Tommy," he said, smiling at me.

"Oh, Tommy. Guys, this is Claire. I promise she's more fun than she looks."

I rolled my eyes at her as Tommy held his hand out. I shook it, and he suddenly brought it up to his lips, kissing my knuckles.         

     



 

Shivers of disgust ran down my spine. He basically left a snail trail of saliva on my skin, totally violating my personal space. It was a harmless move, but it was totally gross and unasked for. He was the absolute opposite of charming. He radiated smarm and self-importance, and really he just made me more depressed than anything else.

I wasn't usually such a party pooper, but I was in a particularly bad mood. The truth was, I didn't want to be back in the Outer Banks. I didn't exactly get along with my insanely controlling father, let alone want to spend my summer with the upper-crust assholes he was always bringing around.

But three nights ago, I got a call late in the afternoon. It turned out that Dad had eloped with his new girlfriend, this ex-model named Lucille. I didn't know much about her, aside from the really basic things Dad had told me over the phone.

I wasn't exactly hurt that they got married without saying anything to me, but I was a little annoyed. This was wife number three for him, and so I guessed that he was probably pretty sick of the big weddings. Still, it would have been nice to at least have been invited, or maybe just deemed worthy enough to be told ahead of time.

But no, that was typical of Jonathan Forester. He did whatever the hell he wanted without a care in the world. Meanwhile, he expected perfection from his only daughter.

"Is she angry?" one of the guys called out, looking at Lydie.

"No. She just has a resting bitch face."

"I do not!"

"You totally do, Claire."

I frowned and took another sip of my drink. This was typical of her, taking the side of some random guys, busting on me all night, until eventually she decided to ditch them and leave with me. She wasn't usually like this, just basically when she got too drunk. And with my dad's people providing all the drinks we could want, she was getting plenty drunk.

"Sorry about them," Tommy said, sitting too close to me on the booth couch. "He can be very obnoxious sometimes."

I smiled at him. At least he was trying to be nice, and I really shouldn't be such a jerk to him. Who knows, maybe he would turn out to be a decent guy, someone worth finally giving my V-card to.

That was my biggest shame in life. I was a virgin at twenty-one, basically a social pariah. Well, I would be if anyone knew. I'd had some boyfriends in the past, and everyone just assumed we had slept together, and I never bothered correcting them. The truth was, every time I finally got close to wanting to have sex, they'd leave me, calling me frigid or crazy.

Which was classic asshole guy behavior. They couldn't get what they wanted right when they wanted it, and instead of working for it or just taking it like a real man, they acted like prissy little babies. I was better off in the long run and I knew it.

But still, I felt like such a weirdo. As far as I knew, I was the only one of my friends that hadn't had sex yet, and it was like a badge of shame. Sex shouldn't have been so important, or at least it didn't seem like such a huge deal to me, and yet I thought about it all the time. I didn't want to be a virgin, but I also had enough respect for myself that I wasn't going to give it away to the first horny idiot I saw.

Lydie said I just hadn't met the right guy to really ignite my panties. And maybe she was right. Maybe I just needed to get it over with.

"Come on, have a shot with us," Tommy said, smiling like a sleazeball. I couldn't help but mentally want to gag every time he spoke.

"I don't know," I said. "I have to be up pretty early tomorrow."

"Have some fun, Claire!" Lydie called out, handing me a shot glass.

I frowned at it. "Are you sure? You know my dad wants me up to meet my new stepmom and stepbrother."

"I've never been so sure before in my whole life."

"I don't think so. I shouldn't get this wasted."

I put the shot glass down on the table.

"Oh come on, Claire. For once don't be such a virgin."

I gaped at her, totally shocked. The two guys laughed and took their shot, not really noticing what had just gone down. Lydie stopped short, her whole face falling, realizing what she had just said to me.

"Shit, Claire," she said quickly. "I didn't mean it like that."

"I know what you meant." I stood up and slipped past Tommy, inwardly praying he didn't touch my ass. Fortunately, he was too busy checking his brand new iPhone to even notice it right in his face.

"Claire, come on. I'm sorry," she called after me.

I walked away quickly, anger rising in my chest. Of everyone, Lydie knew how I felt about being a virgin. She knew I was embarrassed about it, like it was some disease or something. She had never thrown it in my face like that before or used it against me. It was worse that she did it in front of some stupid guys over a stupid shot, all because she wanted me to party like she did.         

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