One Eventful Trip (Open)

[Little_Red_Rose]

Name: Emma Washington
Age: 18
Height: 5'6
Cup size: DD
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I enjoyed the warm summer air running through my hair, my eyes looking out of the window and taking in the different scenery. I knew that this little road trip of ours was going to be nice, hence why I was one of the first to advocate it. My four friends and I were from a small town in Alabama and haven't left the state since we were born, so now that we were all eighteen years old, we figured that it wouldn't be such a bad idea to explore the unknown. Of course, my father wasn't too ecstatic of the notion; and neither was my mother, though to a lesser extent. Both were, as you could imagine, incredibly protective of me. It only got worse through my teenage years (where my body began to develop) and especially so when they caught me making out with a boy from school. Since then curfews were rampant and they constantly called my cellphone when I hanged out with my close friends. It was embarrassing, but I knew that they meant well. Still, it was frustrating - it took so much begging and pleaded for them to let me go on this trip. Of course, they refused over and over again, until I asked my dad (after he had a few beers with his buddies) and he said yes. Of course, I knew that he didn't really mean in, seeing as he was a little tipsy. So...I sort of chickened out, left early in the morning and left my cellphone behind. I'd deal with the consequences later.

"Pat, stop that." I said, slapping Patrick's hand away from my bare thigh. I suppose this is what I get for sitting next to such a sleazeball like him, wearing this pair of skimpy denim shorts, four inch heels and bikini top. I was a little naive, I think. I liked the attention dressing in a certain way would get me, but couldn't deal with men acting upon the emotions that I stirred in them. I was a bit of a tease, I suppose, given that I never even had a boyfriend (unless you'd count that one kiss that I had about two years ago). We made a few pit-stops, enjoyed the scenery and made our way back on the road. Our goal was to get to New York city within two days. By driving, nonetheless.

So, as the sky dimmed and nightfall came, we decided to sleep somewhere for the night. We had made our way to a hotel, which seemed pretty nice. A little too expensive, given our budget, but Janice (another friend of mine in the car) thought that the motels that we passed by looked too rundown. So, we paid for our rooms but as it turned out, we were too many to share one single room.

"I'm sorry, but it's against our policy for more than two people to share a room."

"Oh don't worry about it. One of us aren't even staying the night here."

Of course, that was a lie, but she seemed to let it slide. It couldn't be the first time someone pulled such a move here. We paid for two rooms and the rest of the gang went to the pool after settling our things. Being a weak swimmer and all, I decide to head off on my own to the bar - they probably wouldn't card me and even if they did, I'd just say that I left my things by the pool. After all, with my get up, it wouldn't be too unbelievable.

"Okay. Don't forget to meet up with us by eleven." Pat said.
"Please. Who are you, my dad?" I replied with a chuckle and went over to the bar. It seemed like fun.

It was a little quiet, that much could be said (I had been originally expecting some flashy lights and/or loud music) but things were still a bit interesting, given how I was getting a few stares and glances. I mean, how couldn't? I knew what my body was capable off and how the slight bounce of my round breasts in my bikini top would get me any man to do what I wanted. I knew also, how a bit of sway to my hips got the attention of anybody, given how firm and inviting my backside looked, especially in these pairs of tight denim short shorts. Or how long my legs looked in these four inch heels. Yup, I knew all of this and still went ahead and teased men for free drinks because hey, I could. I wasn't a slut or anything, because I didn't let it get further than that. So, I went over to the counter, leaning over (pushing my butt out, not on purpose, but when I had noticed my demeanor, I hoped that the small butterfly tattoo wouldn't show. I mean, isn't that considered a 'tramp stamp'?).

"Hey bartender? Could I get a Smirnoff please?" I asked with a smile.

He paused and said "Sure thing."

((Hiya, I need one dominant male writer to play with me. Basically, I would bump into your character here and well, the rest is self-explanatory. We could make things a little more taboo, if you're into that. Let me know with a PM. Thanks!~ ))