The Art of Deflowering

Deflowering boys was a tricky business. Usually it was easy: most boys just wanted to have sex so they could tell their friends that they were ‘experienced’. Georgia liked dealing with those boys – they were aggressive and she rose up to the challenge, dominating them in such ways that it made the experience that much more enjoyable, at least for Georgia. Most boys liked to be dominated, but a few didn’t and tried to protest otherwise – but they lost that battle, as Georgia had to ask them whether they wanted to be devirginised or not. Silly boys. When would they learn?

But then there were the sensitive types – the ones where losing their virginity was some precious act and had to be a sacred or momentous occasion. These boys were fun to play with, because Georgia had to actually try to get into their pants. The longest it had ever taken Georgia was a month, and boy, was that month worth waiting. The boy, Adam, was one of her favourites – he was sweet and gentle, and she had even nursed a small soft spot for him. It was a shame he moved away though, because she would have liked to have slept with him again – Georgia never slept with the same boy twice. They usually weren’t worth it.

Stiles however, Georgia noticed, were neither of the two. She originally pegged him to be the sensitive type, since he was raised by his dad who was on the force, and his best friend was one of those jock types who were also caring and kind. He was off and on with Allison, meaning that he was off limits to Georgia. She was a girl who slept around, yes, but she wasn’t a home wrecker. She had her limits. Coming in between couples was out of her league. She didn’t need that extra drama.

Girls didn’t like Georgia much, because they tended to be sidestepped by the boys while Georgia went after their men. It was unintentional, how was Georgia supposed to know which girl liked who? There were a lot of boys in high school and in out, and it wasn’t up to Georgia to know the ins and outs of everyone. She wasn’t necessarily self-centred, but she didn’t care about others besides herself. And her parents and younger brother, Milo. Oh, and her cousin, Lydia. They both went to Beacon Hills, and occasionally she hung out with her cousin. They ran in the same social circles, but Lydia usually hung out with Scott, Isaac, Allison and Lydia, and that crew seemed a bit intense for Georgia. Plus, she had her eye on Isaac for a bit, but it soon became apparent that he had issues, with his father and all. So Georgia wasn’t interested.

“Greenburg! Late again! I just saw you in the corridor a minute ago, you move slower than my dead grandmother!” Georgia had to admit, Coach Finstock was one of her favourite teachers. He was funny and had the habit of quoting Independence Day often, and although economics was a dry subject, he made it interesting. Sometimes.

“Stilinski!” Georgia sat up straight in her seat, making sure that her shoulders were back and that when Stiles walked past; he could see the hint of cleavage poking out from her shirt. “What’s your excuse this time?”

“Sorry Coach,” he was breathing heavily, his hands on his knees as he tried to catch a breath. “I-” Puff. “Was-” Puff. “Being chased.” Puff. “By uh, a rabid dog.”

From the corner of her eye, Georgia could see Scott smirking, but she ignored the look as she focused her gaze on Stiles, checking him out in a plain grey shirt and jeans. He had never really fared well in the fashion department.

“Lahey! That’s the third time you’ve been late this week! You and Stilinski! After school detention for the both of you!” Isaac strolled into class, slapping Stiles on the back casually as he slid into an empty seat behind her. “You too, Greenburg!”

The only seat left was the one diagonally in front of Georgia, to her left. Perfect time to check him out – well, the back of him, anyways. She let her eyes trail his body as he shuffled into his seat, wondering whether he was a skinny boy that she predicted or if he did have some sort of muscle under there. He probably wasn’t as defined as say, Scott or Jackson, but perhaps there was hope for Stiles. Georgia could only hope.

As though he felt her gaze, he turned around, his eyes first flickering to Scott’s and then to Georgia’s. Georgia wasn’t fazed; she merely smiled her pearly whites and watched in amusement as his chocolate coloured eyes slightly widened before turning back to the front again.

So Stiles was one of those types, then. He was a little awkward but a lot cute – Georgia already knew she was going to have fun with him. She had to find a way to get him alone though, since Stiles tended to stick to Scott like glue.

“Walters!” Georgia blinked rapidly, not realising she had been in another one of her dazes. “For the third time, are you ready to present your findings to the class?”

She raised an eyebrow at Coach. “What findings?”

“The findings that were due for class today,” Coach Finstock reminded her, annoyance seeping through his tone. “I set the work on Tuesday and said it was due today. Thursday. Pick a country. Find out whether it was in deficit or surplus. List solutions on how to manage the problem. Any of this coming back to you?”

She remembered, and she did do the work – it was tucked neatly into her economics folder, situated on the floor, next to her desk. An idea struck her suddenly, and with a smile, Georgia shook her head. “Sir, I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Detention!” He barked at her. “And you’ll get another if you don’t complete it today.”

Georgia ducked her head to keep from grinning. This was her plan, of course, to have some alone time with Stiles. She wondered how she would approach her newest victim, sweetly or subtle? Direct or teasing? She was going to have fun with Stiles, that was for sure.