Extreme Temptation (open to a guy with principles)

Denise felt horrible because her boyfriend had broken up with her. So she decided to put on her sluttiest outfit and go to the frat party. Short skirt, white panties, halter with no bra, flip flops. She was skinny but had creamy thighs that could make guys drool.

When she got there she started drinking right away and looking for a guy to make her feel dirty. The frat boys just humilated her, squeezed her ass and called her names, which she didn't like. So she wandered outside, walking around in the dark. Finally she found herself sitting on a curb with a bottle of Jack Daniels, her head in an alcoholic swirl.

Suddenly a car came by and stopped with a screech. A guy got out. "Are you ok?" he said.

OOC: Need a guy with principles, maybe married or engaged, maybe with a gf whose away, or maybe vowed to celibacy, or just clumsy, you get the picture.

Mac knew it was true, what he'd said at the airport - what they'd both said. He still loved Ellie, in spite of what she'd done. Didn't he? She'd promised never to see the woman again, hadn't she? What more did he want?

Driving home, letting some misgynist rant on the radio get into his head - something about Bitches and Switches - or was he imagining it? - he felt the rhythm of the music in his groin. He wanted sex with Ellie, not her away for a month again thousands of miles away, not her promises...

Don't stop.

Poor woman, she looked like she might be in trouble.

She also looked hot as hell.

Hell. Yes.

He did a U-turn. He almost drove by again, then he saw her take another swig from her bottle and stopped. Maybe he could get her home.

He took a deep breath. He did, yes he did briefly check himself in the rear-view mirror. Then he got out. Jeez, it was too cold for what little she was wearing. 'You ok?'

The headlight were painfully bright. Denise shielded her eyes, wondering why the car was stopping. She was oblivious to the fact that her legs had been splayed apart, and the headlights shone a direct beam onto her exposed thighs.

She screwed the top on the bottle and got up. Her head spun in an alcoholic swirl. Her first steps were unsteady, but then she got hr balance and walked toward the car. But then a rock got into her flip-flop. She stopped and shook her foot, but it wouldn't fall out.

Then in a fit of poor judgement, she lifted her foot to try to clear it with her hand. Bending slightly to reach it, she completely lost her balance and crumpled to the pavement.

"Shit," she growled, the lights' glare still on her. Instinctively, she had held the bottle high to keep it from breaking. She felt the raw edge of helplessness sweep over her and hoped the figure coming towards her was sympathetic.

Of all the things to say when he approached, she picked the unlikeliest:

"Here, can you take this." She held the bottle out to him. "I don't think I want any more."

"Here, can you take this." She held the bottle out to him. "I don't think I want any more."

There was more of her skin exposed to the harsh light than was covered by her clothing. He could see the tops of her thighs, and, in her fall, her right breast had somehow almost escaped out into the world. No bra. There was a thudding in Mac's temple. He took the bottle. He could use a swig from it.

Stay sober. At least until you get the bitch somewhere.

Who called her that? A voice inside him had. 'Hey,' he said to her. 'You need...?'

Her eyes weren't focussing. He wanted to feel her body against his, if only for a moment. He squatted down on the sidewalk beside her and put his right arm around her bare shoulders. Yes: he liked that, the softness of her, then the sharp edges of bone. 'Look, why don't I get you somewhere?' His hand was under her armpit, lifting her up, he could clamp that right hand of his on her right breast any time he wanted - but of course, he wouldn't. He would just help her to the car. 'Home, maybe? Or wherever the next party is?' No hurry: one step, another, another, her leg against his, her breast against his sweater.

Maybe a swig of whisky.

No, no, not yet.

I could fuck you right here right now and no-one would care. Not even you.

What was that she was saying?

She leaned into his hands and they made their way to the car.

"Uhhh...yea....if you could get me home, that would be great. I really drank a lot I think, more than what's gone from there." She gestured toward the bottle.

In the car, she fumbled with the seat belt, and sat at last holding the buckle and leaning over the slot with a perplexed stare. He took it from her and plugged it in, her head still draped over the concole in awe. She looked up, her face only inches from him.

"Thanks," she said, with a kind of helpless grin.

She sat up, and then leaned her head against the window. Her legs flopped apart just as they had on the curb.

"What did you say your name was?"

'I didn't. People call me Mac. And you..?'

She didn't seem to hear. She was leaning against the window, sprawled as if ready for sex, or lately sated by it.

No. That was the voice that called her bitch inside him. Be nice, Mac, be nice.

'So where is home?'

Her eyes were open but it was as if she was out of it. 'Both lost, hey? You know Emily Dickinson?

I lost a world the other day.
Has anybody found?
You'll know it by the row of stars
Around its forehead bound.
A rich man might not notice it;
Yet to my frugal eye
Of more esteem than ducats.
Oh, find it, sir, for me!'

Now she was staring at him as if he were an alien of some kind. Maybe he was: a guy old enough to be her teacher, not confessing the lost one was himself, not confessing the angry wild feeling inside.

'Well, lost - that's how you looked. So where is home?'

"Wooowwww, you are one smart dude. That's so pretty. I don't really understand what it means. Sometime when I'm not so drunk will you tell me about it?"

Suddenly Denise thought she ought to be a little more decorous with him, and pulled her legs together.

"Well, Mr. Mac, I am Denise, ex-girlfriend of Jason as of....," she squinted and looked at the clock on the dashboard, "...five hours and....forty three minutes. At that moment I became a wanton soul and have recently sought solace in the arms of some anonymous fraternity boy. But those fraternity boys are freaking idiots, so I cast my lot with my friend Mr. Jack Daniels."

"The residence where Jack and I reside...actually you can keep him if you like. It's ahead then right on Walnut."

"The only poem I can offer was written by my friend Janis this afternoon at 4:13 on facebook. 'Deni,' she said, 'Is it true ya'll split up? Is Jason available?' Mr. Mac, of such superior wisdom, if you have a girlfriend, you need to check facebook to make sure you're still together."

Nothing about her alcoholic stupor could restrain her from the volley of abject sarcasm she spewed into the night air. She sighed deeply, having released a world of anger and grief. Then, just as quickly, her mood changed.

"You do have a girlfriend, don't you?"

There's always a moment when a man with principles comes to a fork in the road. I could follow a certain narrative. Me? Girlfriend? Nah.

Or -

'I think so.'

'You think so?'

'She just left for a month. Work.' She just claimed she ended an affair with some b, some beautiful woman she met on her last job. 'But there've been some stormy seas so I'll check Facebook later.'

She laughed OK, even when drunk. He liked her laugh. She was gesturing with her right index finger.

A man with principles. He thought about driving straight on. But he obeyed her directions and took the right on Walnut. She'd closed her legs and her eyes were wide open. Maybe she was sobering up and didn't like the look of him any more. Or maybe...?

'Hey, I could use a drink or two to catch you up. Stormy seas. Wanna join me at a late bar? Or invite me to join you and Jack?'

No harm in trying. Hadn't he been the perfect gentleman? Had he even touched except in the link of gentlemanly duty?

"Oh my goodness yes, come and help me work on this bottle. See the parking lot up there, take a right and park by the building. But I've just got my room in a suite with some other kids. It's fine, but if your place is bigger...."

"You've got a lesbian girlfriend? Mister Mac that is sooooo cool. Does it make you hot thinking about them?"

She thought the look on his face suggested otherwise.

"Oh...I see...you've kinda gotten cut out of the deal. That's nasty. Really nasty. And a slap at your manhood too. But it's still way more interesting than my creepy boyfriend Jason. EX-boyfriend."

'My place sounds bigger.' He smiled, pumping the gas lightly as he drove past her building, on and up the hill. Maybe they would fuck right there on the bed where Ellie had betrayed him. Maybe that would make him feel better. Maybe he would get to tie her to that bed just like he had Ellie and then -

He swerved a little. The oncoming driver gave him the finger. OK, he'd wandered across the road a little. God he felt like a swig of that Jack Daniels.

Five minutes to home. Was he being silent? 'Your bottle's on the back seat. If you want some fuel. Hey, Denise, betcha you've got a great voice. Sing to me, why don't you? Sing me home. Here's the bass.'

And, suddenly exhilarated at her company, at the half-promises in her 'if your place is bigger', at the drink that would soon pass between his lips he began to be a bass, an acoustic bass riffing in the key of G, just squeezing her thigh briefly to say, 'Go ahead, sing!' before getting his attention back on the road, B-dum B-dum, B-dum...

"Shit, Mac, you're gonna get us killed," Denise teased him. She reached back for the bottle, unscrewed the lid and took a sip. She held the bottle up to his mouth to see if he'd take a drink.

Then he started in that bass line, and Denise started improvising some crazy melody.

"Oh, oh, Mac had a girl
Who cheated, she cheated
What're we gonna do
Oooo, ooooo, oooo"

The Jack Daniels smelt good. Really good. She held it under his nose for what seemed like forever.

'When we get home,' said the good man in him, and he said it out loud to, kind of to his own surprise. He blnked away the vision of her milky thigh, seen out of the corner of his eye. Shoot, should have been left at that intersection, but she's not to know that is she?

And he joined in the song, feeling rhymes in him, feeling rhythm in him, feeling a wild kind, angry-happy kind of lust in him:

'Oh oh Deni had a man
and he ain't worth chasin'
Deni had a man
he's gone without a trace an'

Mac had a girl
who cheated cheated
But he is nohow
not defeated...'

And suddenly here they were, he flicked the remote to open the gate to the parking lot and hey, time for a fucking drink and who knows what with this girl all limbs and liqour...

"Shit, Mac, you've got a freakin gate. Damn! And to think we came this close to going to my place."

"And here I am dressed like a cheap whore. Can you get me in the back way? I don't wanna cause a scene, what with the servants and all." She was being facetious, but nonetheless took another sip from the bottle to calm herself. Then she fixed the strap on her halter top.

She noticed her nipples poking at the halter. "Shit, Mac, look at those nipples. I can't go in like that."

He smiled, and drove in. 'So we go up the back stairs.' There: into his space at last. Engine off. 'Look at those nipples, did you say? Don't mind if I do.' And, gzing hard at her breasts, then up at her, with a wry smile, he took a long, long draught of the Jack Daniels, and felt it head all the way through his body in a rush. Maybe he'd suck those nipples soon. Or put a nice clamp on them and see if she was the kind that juiced up when he tightened it. 'Come on up, Denise. Tiptoe is fine.'

Denise watched Mac guzzle the Jack Daniels. When he finished she snatched the bottle.

"Shit, Mac, you are one drinking son-of-a-bitch. I'm gonna have to be vigilant to get another two sips."

She took a sip, then another. Then Denise noticed Mac eyeing her nipples. She pressed her breasts toward his face.

"There you are, Mac. Nipples, nipples."

He smiled, only slightly embarrased.

"Mac, you know I wouldn't have dressed like a slut if I didn't want you to see that and more. But what I want to know is, how you can possibly have a lesbian girlfriend if you're locked in on tits and ass. I thought lesbians didn't like that shit. I'd like to hear about this, and I'm gonna want details."

'Come on up and I'll tell you all about it.'

His arm round her – the deep draught of booze suddenly hit him on the stairs - God he could pin her against this wall and fuck her now -

Get yourself to the apartment Mac, go steady, pop open one of those bottles of Cava that are nicely cooled in the refrigerator and -

'Mmm,' he said, finding his hand was actually inside her halter top, on that breast he'd been ogling before, 'small but perfectly formed.'

Just then, on the landing for his floor, they heard a noise from along the corridor. Both of them turned to the other, finger on lips – which made it harder not to laugh - then a door slammed and he pulled her along to 203.

'Make yourself at home,' he said, 'Cava in the fridge, I need to freshen up a moment...'

Denise slipped off her flip-flops and walked barefoot over to the fridge. There were no open bottles, and she didn't want to deal with opening a new one. She looked around the room and saw that Mac had set the Jack Daniels down on a table when he came in. She had stolen it, unopened, from the frat house, so there was still plenty left. She walked over to the table and took a hearty swig.

On the table were some pictures in frames, and Denise found one of Mac with his arm around a girl.

"Hey, Mac," she shouted so he could hear in the other room. "Your lesbian girlfriend is pretty." Then she smirked and added, teasing, "I want to meet her some time. Will you introduce me?"

She walked around the room, surveying it, feeling the soft carpet press into her toes. It was tastefully decorated with typical modern furnishings and gave away little about Mac or his girlfriend. She decided that he probably wasn't a poet, or she'd have seen more of that around.

She took another sip from the bottle. After vowing to have no more, she'd caved and downed a good bit more. She set the bottle down on a coffee table to keep herself away from it. Then she began walking around the room just to keep herself active.

He drifted back in to the room in only his blue towelling robe – discreetly covering him, no need to be pushy. She was pacing around like a woman in a cell. Liquor could do that to you.

'Hey, steady.'

He wanted to touch her, but he wanted a drink too. He got the cava out of the fridge; with practised ease he undid the foil, and forced the cork out, letting it pop! Right up to the ceiling so the woman jumped nervously.

'Steady,' he said, pouring his sparkling wine, taking a sip, then another, then topping up his glass as the bubbles subsided.

'Come on over here, sweetheart,' he said, settling on to the sofa – he wasn't going to chase her round his own living room, dammit, let her come to him – 'and I'll tell you about my lesbian girlfriend. Here's what she liked me to do. She liked me to handcuff her wrists in front of her, so all she could do was touch herself, or so I could almost hang her from her wrists from the hook she had me put in the ceiling in the bedroom' – well, this wasn't too far from the truth, what did it matter whose idea the handcuffs and the hook had been? - 'while I told her how bad she was for wanting women instead of me. Is that how you like it? Come on over and tell me...'

"Jeeezzus freaking christ, Mac. That is totally sick." She jumped up standing in front of him.

"I don't mean sick sick, I mean wierd sick. I mean, just look at me. Last year I was in high school, riding the school bus. I'm just a regular girl, at least now. When you found me, I'd been trolling the frat party in my slut suit lookin' to get laid. You're my last hope of the night to wet a guy's dick. If I end up tied to the ceiling with you telling me to do it myself...shit, Mac...shit...I know I'll go over to the other side, just like she did."

"Think about it, Mac. All over the world, guys from sixteen to sixty are jackin off to pictures of girls like me, wishing they could get just a sniff of my creamy thighs. You're the chosen one, Mac. The entire reputation of manhood is on your shoulders."

Denise's heart pounded after so exciting a performance. She sat back down, letting out slow deep breaths to calm herself.

"So, are you telling me she enjoyed this stuff? And you knew this and she knew this when the two of you got together?"

Denise thought hard about that. "So you can never break up, neither of you would find anybody else like that, right?"

Another pause, deep in thought. "So what about this other woman? How did she get in the picture? What does she do?"

He shook his head. It didn't clear. Did he want it to clear? He drank some more sparkling wine and refilled his glass. There was too much swilling around his head, like bubbles.

'Hey, enough questions, Denise. You're a pretty woman and you're nineteen. Some things look different a little later on. Who says we can never break up, though? Every woman I've met – it's a new thing, you take it as it comes.'

That didn't seem to shake her thinking. What the heck. Another drink.

'Or maybe it should be my turn with the questions. Come right here, next to me, tell me: you never had a kinky dream in your head? You talk about what all the men want from you. But what is it you dream of getting from them?'

Denise was somewhat reassured by his response, but still thought he was being brutish. She rolled her eyes at his question.

"Mac?!? Mac?!?! Kink? You want kink? What about getting down and dirty with a bunch of horny frat boys? At worst, I was expecting them to take turns on me, standing around cheering each other on. That's kinky, don't you think?"

"But they're a bunch of grab ass idiots who just wanted to hurt me. That's what I think about your freakin chains...what the fuck do I get out of it?"

Denise walked over to the table to get the Jack Daniels and brought it back. She took a deep swallow and felt it burn all the way down her throat. Passing out was beginning to look like an attractive option. She took another gulp and sighed.

"Here's the deal, Mac. I'm beginning not to care what you do to me. I'm drunk and discouraged, and I just want to forget about Jason."

Standing in front of him, head swirling with new alcohol, she slid her skirt down her legs, leaving the halter and panties. Then she lay down on the couch and put her head in his lap. She could feel his cock under the robe.

"Mmmm...." she said, and reached a hand up to squeeze it through the robe.