Gain Access to Member Area

Signup for the free Bronze membership (it takes 20 seconds), which gives you access to not only the full 15,000+ story library, but also the exclusive member area with lots of cool features like: Voting on stories, Bookmarking stories, searching for stories, reccommended stories, member forums, profiles and much more!.

Click here to create your free account



Story Info

Posting Date 2010-01-03 11:27:29
Author Spurinna
Title A Well-earned Kiss
Category kissed a boy/girl
Where it happend A friend of a friend's party
Age then 21
Age now 22
Gender MALE
Viewed 78
Story Length 2249

(9 votes / 21 points)

Rate this story











Bookmark this story! View Authors Profile!
Send comments to Author. View Authors BookMarks
Report this story to the admin!

Back to latest search results

A Well-earned Kiss


For those of you who read my previous story, you know I’m very much into swords. It’s not me being a psycho or anything, I just study them from both a historical and practical standpoint. Anyway, after getting into a swordfight with a friend of a friend, I began studying a lot more. I got into the old medieval fight books and manuals to learn more about how swords were used. After a couple of months, during my second semester in college, I bought myself a new sword. It was just a basic hand and a half sword made by Generation 2 (they’re a really good company, so I’m giving them some free advertising). It was an awesome heavy-duty thing. First day I tried it out, I wound up chopping through a 2 x 4 in two massive cuts.
About a week later, a friend of mine, Silva, calls me up and invites me to a party at a friend’s house. Sad to say, I’m the responsible one in my group of friends, and he asked me along to keep an eye on things. I’m not exactly big, but I’m smart enough to diffuse some situations and crazy enough to end others. So, I agree, and I toss my new sword in the trunk to show it off before the party. I meet up with him at his place and he oohs and ahs over my blade (no jokes, please), then we go to the party.

We get to the guy’s house (I think his name was Cameron, though whether that was a first or last name, I never knew), and the party’s already underway. There are about forty people there ranging from about 17 to me, the oldest person there at 21. And these kids were from literally all walks of life. Turns out, Cameron went to one of those talented and gifted schools and there were kids who could do anything from painting perfect replicas of the Mona Lisa to finding the cube root of infinity if they wanted.

Things were going well, and Silva only got into one scrap that I was able to clear up pretty easily. He’d tried palming one ace too many in a poker game and got caught, but I made him split half his money amongst the other players, so they stayed cool. Well, nothing happened after that, so I decided to have one or two beers. Now, contrary to what most people think, I am not an angry drunk. I’m very friendly, but being descended from Scots, I do tend to get a bit pugnacious. Needless to say, this led to trouble.

Off in one corner of the main room, close to where Cameron had set up four Xboxes for an ultimate Halo tournament, there were five goth kids, two guys, two girls, and one supposed guy who probably could have made Oscar Wilde look manly. I put them all at seniors in high school, so 19 or 20. Anyway, they’d laid out a 2 foot square of plywood, painted black with a red pentagram on it. There were candles all over it and each person was at a point. The leader of this jolly band had a sword in his hand and was directing the “ritual” with it. It was a cheap ass fantasy sword that you can find in any pawn shop. All points and stainless steel and fake leather. Absolutely useless. He was really into the whole thing and so were one of the girls and the likely gay guy.

Turns out that those last two were siblings and had been friends with this fearless leader for years. The other guy was his best friend and the other girl was his girlfriend. They both looked a little bored, like they really just wanted to enjoy the party. She’s the one who caught my attention.
Where all the others wore chains and spikes and torn black clothes, she actually looked elegant. About 5’6 with pale skin, black hair, and bright blue eyes, all of which I found out later were natural and not the result of dyes, contacts, or make-up. Her other assets were obviously natural, somewhere in the neighborhood of 34Cs. She had all the right curves in all the right places. She was dressed in black pants and a black tank top. She was actually wearing relatively sensible black flats, which surprised me. As did the black ribbon choker she had on. It was obviously a family heirloom, not some cheap piece of costume jewelry. Me being a friendly sort and having lost the good sense to stay out of bad situations, I walked on over to her and said hello.

Before anyone else could say anything, the fearless leader of the group, a lanky kid about four inches taller than my 5’9, stood up and got in my face.
“Fuck off! You’re ruining our ritual!”
“Oh? And what ritual is that, Sunshine?” Turns out Goths who take themselves too seriously really hate being called “sunshine.” Irony was not this guy’s strong suit.
“We’re trying to summon the spirit of Pan the Satyr-god!”
“Okay, why?”

At this point he blustered and stammered out something about his place in bringing about the madness necessary for a really cool party, but I got the feeling that it was just something for him to do to feel all high priest-like. I got tired of it about halfway through and cut him off.

“Well, first of all, Pan isn’t the god you want. You want Bacchus. Second, you should start pouring libations onto the ground or sacrifice a rabbit or something instead of using generic pagan or satanic imagery. Third, unless you want a god made in China, you’re not going to get anything using that cheap waste of metal.” I would like to go on record as stating that as no point did I challenge his ability to summon an old Roman god, I just did my duty as a Classical Studies major and corrected him. He did not appreciate it.

“What the fuck do you know about it? I’ve read the books on this shit! I know what I’m doing! And I could fucking kill you with this sword if I wanted to!” All this was repeated by his two intense followers (the gay guy and his sister) like a couple of semi-retarded parrots. His guy friend was ready to get in between us if things got nasty and his girlfriend just sat there and rolled her eyes. I got the feeling this sort of thing happened a lot.

“Have you ever actually done any damage to anyone with that toad-sticker?” I asked innocently. Okay, not innocently, but it sounded like it at the time.
“Yeah, I got into a fight with my brother once, he stole a knife from me and I totally gashed him across the forehead with this!”
“James, your brother’s only fifteen years old!” This came from the girlfriend, who had finally had it with this guys bullshit.
“Yeah, and he was just joking around taking that knife. You take things too seriously, man.” The best friend defects to the ranks of the normal people.
“Both of you go to hell! Neither of you knows shit about being goth! I taught you both how to do it!”

By now, this whole situation has attracted some attention. With a crowd of people gathering and challenges to his supposed authority growing, James (or, as I liked to call him, “Sunshine”) got a desperate look in his eye. He was either going to run from the room crying or he was going to go berserk. At this point, my adrenaline began pumping and negated the alcohol. But, me being me, I had to get one last jab.
“You sure you’re goth and not emo?”
Next thing I know, I’m having to jump backwards as this cheap (yet sharp) sword swings past me. I fall over someone and half a dozen people are holding Sunshine back.

“I’ll fucking kill you, you little bitch!”
“Tell you what, Sunshine, I’ve got a sword in my car. I’ll get that and meet you in the backyard, and we’ll see who’s better.”
“You’re on, asshole!” he shouted as he stormed outside.
I went out to my car and popped the trunk. Took a quick look around to make sure no cops were around, grabbed my sword and walked through the house to the backyard.
Most of the people had formed a ring outside to see the action. Sunshine was at one end of the yard pacing back and forth. I unsheathed my sword and took a few steps towards him. He raised his sword and was about to charge the last ten feet between us, but I held up my hand to stop him.
“Hang on. Rules first. #1: This is only to first blood or disarmament or surrender. #2: No attacking the face or stabbing at the torso. #3: No throwing. Understood?”
“Yeah, fine. Let’s go!”
“One more thing! Would you like to make things a little more interesting?”
“What do you mean?”
“If you win, I give you $100 and help you research ancient rituals.” This was bullshit, of course, but I wanted him to put something on the line.
“And if you win?”
“I get to kiss her.” I pointed at his girlfriend. She looked a little shocked, but didn’t protest. I think I surprised everyone by asking for something that seemed so little in comparison to what I was risking, but hey, a guy with a reputation for chivalry tends to get more attention.
“Who? Livia? Fine, you can have the treacherous bitch!”
“You do have a flair for the melodramatic, don’t you, Sunshine?”
“Stop calling me Sunshine, dammit! Let’s do this!”

And with that we began. He charged me and swung a couple of times for my head. I either ducked or blocked them easily. This wasn’t like last time, where I was against someone with some skill. This guy had taken everything from old Errol Flynn movies. Lots of swinging around and slow heavy blows. This kept going for a while with me losing ground, making it look like he was forcing me backwards. And during this time, his blade got notched and battered by my sword’s better steel. Finally, when I was running out of space to retreat, I turned the tables on him.
I blocked his next swing and hammered him in the gut with the pommel of my sword. This knocked him back a bit. I just walked towards him, swinging at him, forcing him back and blocking his attacks. As we were reaching the other end of the yard, he tripped (though he may have been faking) and fell on his back. I lowered my sword and stepped back so he could get up. He picked up a rock and threw it at my head. It caught me a glancing blow on my right cheek, spinning me half around just by reflex.

He jumped to his feet and raised his sword overhead and began to swing it down. I reacted faster than he expected and swung for his blade. They connected and for a second there were sparks and a bunch of flashes. I thought people were taking pictures. Turns out, I’d managed to completely snap the blade of his sword off not three inches above the hilt. He was off-balance and I swung my arm at him, backhanding him across the face. He fell to the ground, his lip bleeding, staring up at me with utmost hatred.
“I win, Sunshine.”

“You’re gonna pay for that sword, you bastard. It cost me eighty bucks.” At this point, I just moved the tip of my sword to within inches of his nose.
“You gonna make me?” And with that I walked over to Livia (it is so awesome for a Classicist to meet a girl named Livia). She closed her eyes nervously. I took her right hand in mine, and kissed the back of it. She opened her eyes in time to watch me sheath my sword and call for a drink before walking inside. I winked at her and went in.

The party goers dwindled from there. Some left because there was no way to top a swordfight. Others because they thought the cops might show up. I stayed at the kitchen table talking to people all night, with my sword across my lap. I didn’t drink any more alcohol, figuring one fight was enough. At one point I saw Sunshine walk out alone. An hour or so later, Livia came round looking for him. Turns out he was her ride home. She was so pissed when she found out he left. Taking my cue, I downed the last of the water I was drinking, thanked my host, told my Silva he was on his own for getting home, grabbed my sword, and walked Livia to my car.
I got her home no problem. What happened next, however, is another story entirely. So, next time someone says chivalry is dead or that swords are obsolete, don’t believe them. Both can come in handy.


Gain Access to Member Area

Signup for the free Bronze membership (it takes 20 seconds), which gives you access to not only the full 15,000+ story library, but also the exclusive member area with lots of cool features like: Voting on stories, Bookmarking stories, searching for stories, reccommended stories, member forums, profiles and much more!.

Click here to create your free account