“Too much to drink?” a voice asked softly next to her, and she jumped as she heard it. She looked up to see a familiar face. He was a senior, and a football star, and he had no idea who she was. She couldn't imagine what he was doing there, or why he bothered to talk to her. Maybe he thought she was someone else. She sat up and shook her head, expecting him to walk off and leave her.

“No. Just too many people. Too much everything, I guess.”

“Yeah, me too,” he said, sitting down next to her, uninvited, and it was impossible not to notice how handsome he was, even in the moonlight. “I hate crowds.”

“That's a little hard to believe,” she said, sounding amused, and feeling oddly comfortable with him, even though he was a hero on campus. But it was all so unreal here, sitting outside the gym, on a bench in the dark. “You're always surrounded by people.”

“And you? How do you know who I am?” He sounded intrigued, and looked gorgeous. “Who are you?”

“I'm Cinderella. My Buick just turned into a pumpkin, and my date turned into a drunk, and I came out here looking for my glass slipper. Have you seen it?”

“Possibly. Describe it. How do I know you're really Cinderella?” He was amused by her, and he wondered why he had never noticed her before. She was wearing an ugly dress, but she had a great face, and figure, and a good sense of humor. “Are you a senior?” He looked interested suddenly, although everyone in school knew he'd been going with Debbie Flowers ever since they were sophomores. There was even a rumor that they were going to get married after graduation.

“I'm a sophomore,” she said with a wry smile, surprisingly honest, even when confronted by Prince Charming.

“Maybe that's why I never noticed,” he said honestly. “But you look older.”

“Thanks, I guess.” She smiled at him, thinking that she should either go back to David, or start walking home. She shouldn't be sitting there all alone with a senior. But she felt safe here.

“My name's Paul Browne. What's yours, Cinderella?”

“Maribeth Robertson.” She smiled and stood up.

“Where are you going?” He was tall, with dark hair and a dazzling smile, and he looked disappointed.

“I was just going home.”

“Alone?” She nodded. “Want a lift?”

“I'm fine, thanks.” She couldn't believe she was turning down a ride with Paul Browne, star senior. Who would have believed it? She grinned, thinking about it, what an achievement.

“Come on, I'll walk you back to the gym at least. Are you going to tell your date you're leaving?”

“I should, I guess.” They walked easily back to the main entrance of the gym, like old friends, and as soon as they approached, she saw David, already hopelessly drunk, sharing a bottle unsteadily with half a dozen friends. There were monitors inside, but in spite of them, the kids seemed to be doing what they wanted. I don't think I need to tell him anything,” Maribeth said discreetly, and stopped long before they reached him, looking up at Paul with a smile. He was a lot taller than she was. “Thanks for keeping me company. I'm going to go home now.” The evening had been a total waste for her. She'd had a rotten time, except for talking to Paul Browne.

“I can't let you go home alone. Come on, let me give you a ride, or are you afraid my Chevy will turn into a pumpkin too?”

“I don't think so. Aren't you the handsome prince?” she asked, teasing him, but then feeling embarrassed. He really was the handsome prince, and she knew she shouldn't have said it.

“Am I?” he quipped, looking incredibly handsome and sophisticated as he helped her into his car. It was an impeccably kept 1951 Bel Air with the new chrome trim, and the inside was all red leather.

“I like your pumpkin, Paul,” she teased, and he laughed, and when she gave him her address, he suggested they go out for a hamburger and a milkshake.

“You can't have had much fun. Your date looked like a creep …sorry, maybe I shouldn't have said that …but he certainly didn't do much for you tonight. I'll bet you didn't even get a dance. You might as well go out for a little fun on the way home. What do you think? It's early.” It was and she didn't have to be home till midnight.

Okay,” she said cautiously, wanting to be with him, and more impressed with him than she wanted to admit. It was impossible not to be. “Did you come alone tonight?” she asked, wondering what had happened to Debbie.

“Yes, I did. I'm a free agent again.” He suspected from the way Maribeth had asked that she knew about Debbie. Everyone at school did. But they had broken up two days before, because Debbie had found out that he'd gone out with someone else over Christmas vacation, but he didn't explain that.

“I guess that was lucky for me, huh Maribeth?” He smiled disarmingly, and asked her questions about herself, as they drove to Willie's, the diner where all the popular kids hung out at all hours of the day and night. And when they got there, the jukebox was blaring and the place was jammed. It looked like more kids than at the dance, and suddenly she was more conscious than ever of the ugly dress her parents had made her wear, and of who he was. Suddenly she felt every minute of sixteen, and less. And Paul was nearly eighteen. But it was as though he sensed her shyness, as he introduced her to all his friends. Some of them raised their eyebrows questioningly, wanting to know who she was, but no one seemed to object to her joining them. They were surprisingly nice to her, as Paul's guest, and she had a good time, laughing and talking. She shared a cheeseburger with him, and a milkshake, and they danced to half a dozen songs on the jukebox, including a couple of slow dances, when he held her breathtakingly close to him, and felt her breasts pressed against him. And she could instantly feel the effect on him, which embarrassed her, but he wouldn't let her pull away, and he held her close to him as they danced, and then looked down and smiled at her gently.

“Where have you been for the last four years, little girl?” he said, sounding hoarse, and she smiled in answer.

“I think you've been too busy to notice where I've been,” she said honestly, and he liked that about her.

“I think you're right, and I've been a fool. This must be my lucky night.” He pulled her closer again and let his lips drift against her hair. There was something about her that excited him. It wasn't just her body, or the spectacular breasts he'd encountered while they were dancing, it was something about the way she looked at him, the way she responded to him. There was something very bright and brash and brave about her, as though she weren't afraid of anything. He knew she was only a kid, and a sophomore would have to be a little intimidated by a senior, and yet she wasn't. She wasn't afraid of him, or of saying what she thought, and he liked that about her. Breaking up with Debbie had bruised his ego, and Maribeth was just the balm he needed to soothe it.

They got back in his car, and he turned to look at her. He didn't want to take her home. He liked being with her. He liked everything about her. And for her, it was a heady experience just being with him.

“Do you want to go for a little drive? It's only eleven.” They had left the dance so early, they'd had plenty of time to talk and dance at Willie's.

“I should probably get home,” she said cautiously, as he started the car, but he headed in the direction of the park, instead of her house. It didn't worry her, but she didn't want to stay out too late. She felt safe with him though. He had been a perfect gentleman all night, a lot more so than David.

“Just a little spin, then I'll take you home, I promise. I just don't want the night to end. This has been special for me,” he said meaningfully, and she could feel her head reeling with excitement. Paul Browne? What if this was for real? What if he went steady with her instead of Debbie Flowers? She couldn't believe it. “I've had a great time, Maribeth.”

“Me too. A lot better than I had at the dance,” she laughed. They chatted easily for a few minutes after that, until he drove into a secluded area near a lake, stopped the car, and turned to face her.

“You're a special girl,” he said, and there was no doubt in Maribeth's mind that he meant it. He opened the glove compartment then and pulled out a pint bottle of gin and offered it to her. “Would you like a little drink?”

“No, thanks. I don't drink.”

“How come?” He seemed surprised.

“I don't really like it.” He thought that was odd, but he offered it to her anyway. She started to decline, but as he insisted, she took a little sip, not to hurt his feelings. The clear liquid burned her throat and her eyes as it went down, and there was a hot feeling in her mouth afterwards, and she felt flushed, as he leaned over and pulled her into his arms and kissed her.

“Do you like that better than gin?” he asked sensuously after he'd kissed her again, and she smiled and nodded, feeling worldly and excited and a little sinful. He was so incredibly exciting, and so unbelievably handsome. “So do I,” he said, and kissed her again, and this time, he unbuttoned the prim dress as she tried to keep the buttons done up, but his fingers were nimbler than hers and more practiced, and within seconds, he was holding her breasts and fondling them as he kissed her breathlessly and she had no idea how to stop him.

“Paul, don't …please …” she said softly, wanting to mean it, but she didn't. She knew what she had to do, but it was so hard not to want him. He leaned down then and kissed her breasts, and suddenly her bra was undone, and the top of her dress was completely open. His mouth was on her breasts, and then her lips and then he was working her nipples with his fingers. And she moaned in spite of herself as he slid a hand under her skirt, and found her expertly and quickly, despite her attempt to keep her legs together. But she had to keep reminding herself that she didn't want what he was doing to her. She wanted it to frighten her, and yet nothing he did scared her. Everything he did was exciting and delicious, but she knew she had to stop, and finally she pulled away, out of breath and out of control, and she looked at him with regret and shook her head, and he understood it.