WARNING!  This document includes material of a 
sexual nature.  Reader discretion is advised.  If 
this stuff is illegal where you live, please don't 
read it.  If you are under the age of 21, please, 
find something else.  The characters in this 
document engage in risky sexual behavior that 
could result in pregnancy, disease, or social 
distress.  They are imaginary professionals; they 
don't worry about such things.  Please, don't try 
this at home.  Please don't redistribute this 
document without my express permission.  Reposts 
are fine, provided this little blurb is in the 
front of the document.  Please don't put it on 
your web page without my permission.  Trying to 
make money from this is a definite no-no.

-- Demotic
(c) 2003 by Demotic


A DRINKING GAME (MF pett) [1/4]


Part One
Introductions


I sighed and considered my first essay of the 
year.  At the top of the page was the statement, 
"Describe the causes of the American Revolution in 
terms of political, social and economic factors.  
Discuss the importance of each on the uprising.  
Remember to cite your sources."  Beneath was a 
hastily written outline of thoughts, ideas and 
queries to myself.  After a week of reading 
densely written tomes, scholarly articles and a 
careful rereading of the course's text, this was 
all I had to show.

I stood and stretched.  It was my third Friday 
night at Arizona State this term, and I could hear 
happy voices and laughter echoing down the halls 
of my dormitory.  I wished I could join them, but 
I was so overloaded with work that I hadn't been 
able to enjoy the finer points of being a college 
sophomore.  It was my own fault.  I was taking 
eighteen credits, six more than required for a 
full load.

Not particularly eager to resume my studies, I 
went into the bathroom and splashed water on my 
face.  I contemplated my dripping visage in the 
mirror.  My dark hair was short, my blue eyes were 
bloodshot and supported by dark circles, and my 
face was curved downwards in a distinctly 
unpleasant frown.

My break from studying was interrupted by the 
sound of a key in the door.  My roommate, Tom 
Hudson, was an old friend of mine from San Jose.  
I grabbed a towel and wiped my face as the door 
swung open.  "Justin?" his voice pierced the 
silence of the room.

"Yeah?" I replied, stepping out of the bathroom to 
greet him.  Tom was wearing his omnipresent blue 
jeans and a black Santana T-Shirt.  His hair was 
light brown and always slightly tussled.  A smile 
was perpetually only his lips, and he wore a pair 
of round, subtly glasses.

"There you are," Tom replied.  He glanced at my 
desk and saw the pile of books and papers.  "Are 
you still working on coursework?" he asked, 
incredulous.

I nodded guiltily.  "Yeah."

Tom looked at me, disgusted.  "Come on, Tom.  It's 
Friday night.  You should come out with us."
For the first time, I noticed that Tom wasn't 
alone.  Behind him stood two young women.  "We're 
going to a movie," he announced.  "Come on."
"I can't," I responded.  "I've got too much work 
to do."

"You can do it tomorrow," he said firmly.  "When 
was the last time you went out?"

I couldn't remember, but it was certainly before 
the term began.  He took one look at my face and 
grabbed my arm.  He drug me out into the hall and 
shut the door.

Two attractive girls smiled at me.  One was medium 
height, with large blue eyes and a thin face.  Her 
skin was pale and clear, and her shoulder length 
blonde hair was hanging free, with the right side 
tucked behind her ear.  She was a thin girl, with 
a small, pert chest and slender figure.  Her shirt 
matched her eyes, and she wore tight blue jeans 
that displayed slender, but still shapely legs.
The other girl had dark hair, dark eyes, and full 
red lips.  She wore a tad too much make-up for my 
taste, with lavender eye shadow and dark mascara, 
and a heavy dose of blush.  Her shirt was the same 
shade of red as her lips, and it was one of those 
bare midriff halters, showing plenty of belly and 
cleavage.  Below was a knee length black skirt.  
An open, blue denim vest completed the ensemble.  
Where the blonde was thin and delicate, the 
brunette was curvy and voluptuous.  The brunette 
had large breasts, a narrow waist flaring out to 
generous hips.  Even their purses contrasted:  the 
blonde's was small and compact, while the 
brunette's was the size of a grocery bag.

Tom gestured to the blonde.  "This is Cindy 
Holmgren and this is Anna Hayes," he introduced 
the two girls.  Tom gestured to me, "Ladies, this 
is my best friend, Justin Ford."

Compared to Anna, I felt underdressed in my gray 
t-shirt and blue jeans.  I stammered out a hello, 
and Tom looked at the girls.  I checked my watch.  
It was eight o'clock.  It was Friday.  What the 
hell?


*	*	*


The movie started at eight thirty, and was one of 
those ninety-minute slasher flicks that felt like 
three hours.  We sat near the back on the side, 
with Anna next to the wall, followed by Tom, me 
and Cindy.  Anna was definitely into Tom, and I 
noticed her hand grabbing his thigh repeatedly 
during the movie.

Though the movie was terrible, it served to break 
the ice.  On the walk to the multi-plex, I got the 
distinct impression that Anna and Tom were setting 
me up with Cindy.  They kept asking questions of 
Cindy or I, and we awkwardly responded with 
simple, one word answers.

As the movie struggled to its long-awaited finale, 
Cindy leaned over and whispered, "This movie is 
_horrible_."  Her breath was hot and soft in my ear, 
and I had to restrain myself to keep from 
shivering.  I managed to nod, and Cindy flopped 
back into her chair.  Next to me, Tom had moved 
his hand into Anna's lap and there were distinct 
movements.  They were encased in shadows, and I 
didn't exactly want to find out what he was doing.  
But given the soft moans Anna was trying to 
conceal, it didn't take much effort to guess.
The movie ended, and the lights came up, and I 
noticed Tom regretfully take his hand out from 
under Anna's skirt.  I quickly looked away, and 
noticed the Cindy had just turned her head as 
well.  She was blushing prettily, obviously 
embarrassed by her friend's behavior.

No one wanted to go home.  It was only ten 
o'clock, and we were all very awake thanks to the 
sodas we had consumed during the movie.  We were, 
however, hungry.  There was a pizzeria that was a 
favorite of mine a short distance from the 
multiplex.  It was decided we would share a pizza.
With Tom leading the way, and Anna on his arm, 
Cindy and I walked behind them.  Tom and Anna were 
deep in conversation, leaving us to our own 
devices.  I looked at Cindy, apologetic.  "I'm 
sorry about the movie," I said.   "Tom always 
liked those things."

Cindy giggle, a dainty, musical sound.  "Quite 
alright.  Tom didn't give us much choice."
She looked at me somberly.  "I'm sorry about this.  
I didn't know they were going to. uh." she paused 
looking distinctly uncomfortable.

"Set us up?" I finished for her.

She nodded, blushing once more.  I decided I liked 
it when she blushed.

"Don't worry about it.  I had no idea, either," I 
told her.

At this point, we were pushing our way through a 
crowd in front of the theatre.  People were lining 
up for late showings.  Most of them were college 
kids, like ourselves, or teenagers enjoying their 
first tastes of night life.  We pushed our way 
through the throngs of people in front of the 
theatre and passed down an alleyway between 
buildings.  It was a nice alley, not a dark, dirty 
place littered with the refuse of the day, but a 
well-manicured stretch of pedestrian walkway, 
lined with benches, rocks, and even a strange, 
gurgling monolithic fountain bursting out of the 
cement.  It was less crowded here, and quiet, and 
the soft murmurs from Anna and Tom were audible in 
front of us.

To break the uneasy silence that was developing, I 
asked, "So, what's your major?"

It was a lame question, I'll freely admit.  But it 
was the first and only thing that popped into my 
head.

"Elementary education," she told me.  "What's 
yours?"

"General studies, at the moment," I told her.  
"Maybe anthropology or journalism."

She smiled, and the silence began to develop once 
more.  This was horrible!  There was an attractive 
girl walking next to me, and I had no idea what to 
say.  "Definitely not history," I added.  The 
silence between us had lasted to long, and it 
sounded almost out of the blue.  I wanted to 
strike my head in the middle of my forehead and 
say, "Doh!" but I managed to control myself.

"Yeah?" she responded.  "I kind of like history.  
It's interesting to find out how other people 
lived."

I nodded.  "I'm taking this monster course, 
introductory history," I told her.  "I've got this 
miserable tee-a teaching it.  She's horrible."
She smiled again.  "Yeah, my math instructor is 
like that.  He's from central Asia or something, 
and has this horrible accent.  I can't understand 
a word he's saying."

"Well, I can understand what mine's saying, but I 
can't make heads or tails of what we're supposed 
to be learning about.  I always did well in 
history in high school, but man."

"I know exactly what you mean.  I have this 
chemistry lab that I'm so lost in.  I spend all my 
time studying it, and I still have no idea what 
we're doing."

For the first time, Cindy seemed to have relaxed, 
and she seemed to have lit up.  Her whole face 
underscored each word she said, and she used big 
sweeping gestures to punctuate her statements.  
When she was listening to me, her eyes would open 
wide and her face would become earnest.
The alleyway ended too soon.  We arrived back into 
the mainstream of traffic, where young people and 
those young at heart were jostling for position on 
the wide sidewalks of Mill Avenue.  Cars were 
jammed into four lanes, all of them were full of 
cruising teens, honking and hollering at one 
another.

In moments, we were safely across the street and 
were soon walking down University Road.  The crowd 
noise died down, but there was still plenty of 
traffic rumbling by, so it wasn't until we reached 
our destination that we could hear each other 
again.

The restaurant was a stand-alone building that 
looked surprisingly old.  Not much looked more 
than twenty years old in the Valley of the Sun, 
but downtown Tempe had an older feel to it.  
Mama's Pizzeria wasn't an historic building by any 
means, but it was definitely not a new structure.  
Inside the dimly lit building were about a dozen 
booths and a dozen tables, and about half of them 
were occupied or carried the refuse of past meals.  
We ordered our pizza and found a booth in the 
corner.

The booths were delightful.  They were tall, 
wooden things with padded green benches.  Into the 
wood, generations of college students had carved 
their names or slogans, from the mundane "Go 
Devils!" to the obscure references to Betty Jane's 
well-endowed anatomy.  Unlike most college hang-
outs, Mama's was a place you could talk.  There 
were several television sets sitting around, each 
with the sound turned down low so that 
conversation could be heard.  There wasn't any 
loud music nor were there rambunctious drunks or 
rowdy Greek types.

"What do you think?" Tom asked the girls.

"Let's wait and see what the pizza tastes like," 
Anna replied cautiously.

"I think it's quaint," Cindy declared.  "It has 
character."

"So, was that a great movie, or what?" Tom said 
enthusiastically.  "That Clive Barker really knows 
how to spin a great yarn."

Cindy and I exchanged knowing glances and 
struggled to keep ourselves from laughing.

"Well," Anna replied.  "I guess if you like that 
sort of thing."

Tom looked hurt.  "You didn't like it?"

Anna looked like a deer caught in headlights.  She 
looked to Cindy to help bail her out.  Cindy sat 
at rapt attention, her eyes wide and innocent.  
Desperate, Anna turned her gaze to me.  I just sat 
there with a slight grin on my face.  She looked 
like she was going to panic.  I waited a beat 
before letting her off the hook.

"So," I began.  "Do you think the Devils will win 
tomorrow?"

A great look of relief spread over Anna's face.  

"I hope so," she said hurriedly.  "It's their 
first Pac-Ten game.  Cal's supposed to be really 
good."

Cindy had that same wide-eyed expression on her 
face.  She looked like she'd be a mean poker 
player, the way she kept her face so innocent.  "I 
hear they have a really good quarterback," she 
added.

"Nah, we'll crush them," Tom said, his eyes 
narrowing as he looked at me.  He knew what we 
were doing, but Tom was a good sport.   "Cal 
always finds a way to lose."

So we chatted about football and drank soda out of 
our Styrofoam cups until Tom's name was announced 
and he went to pick up the pizza.  Anna watched 
Tom as he approached the counter to pick up our 
food, then she turned back to us and leaned 
forward.  "Thanks, Justin.  I didn't realize how 
much he liked horror movies."

"No problem," I told her.  "I've had to put up 
with it for years."

Tom returned with the pizza and we all dug in.  
The pizza was delicious, and we all appeared 
ravenous, because it was several moments before we 
spoke again.

Out of the blue, Tom announced, "Anna is a 
psychology major."

I nodded.  "That's nice."  To keep the 
conversation going, I added, "What are you taking 
this year?"

"Intro to child psych, English one-oh-two, Physics 
and Spanish," she said.  "Thirteen credits.  Lots 
of homework," she looked up from her pizza, her 
dark brown eyes focusing on me.  "How about you?"

"History one-oh-three, physical anthropology, 
Journalism one-twenty, Chemistry, Computers, and 
Introduction to Geography," I replied.

"See why you haven't met him before?" Tom chimed 
in, with a friendly grin on his face.  "Justin, 
here, wants to graduate in four years."

"I wanted to take Journalism, but I can't until I 
finish English one-oh-two," Anna said.

"Justin's a genius," Tom said slyly.  I kicked him 
hard in the chin.  He winced and looked at me, 
hurt.  "Well, you are."

"I am not," I replied.  "I just took some a-pee 
courses in high school."

"Justin's being modest," Tom continued.  "His eye-
que is one-seventy-three."

I kicked him again.  Hard.  That was private.
Steaming, I changed the subject.  "What are you 
taking, Cindy?"

"Psych, Spanish, Chemistry, Computers and Buried 
Cities and Lost Tribes," she rattled off, 
obviously mulling over what Tom had said about my 
IQ.  "Your eye-que is really one-seventy-three?"
She was giving me that wide-eyed innocent look, 
and waiting my response with rapt attention.  

"Yeah.  But eye-que tests don't mean much," I 
replied.

"Yeah, but you got a fifteen-twenty-three on your 
S-A-Tees," Tom added.  "And a scholarship to 
Berkeley."

I glared at him.  Tom realized he had said to 
much.

"Why'd you come here?" Cindy breathed.

"To get away from my folks, I guess," I said, 
grabbing another slice of pizza.  "They live in 
the Bay Area."

"But. you gave up Berkeley to come here?" Cindy 
repeated.

I bit into my pizza and nodded.

An uncomfortable silence drifted over the table.  
I swallowed and turned to Cindy.  "So where are 
you from?"

"I'm from Flagstaff.  I wanted to get away from my 
parents, and A-S-U had a good teaching program, so 
I came here," she said, still staring at me with 
amazement.

I nodded.  "Why not some place farther away?"

"I had to stay in state."  Her earnest face seemed 
crestfallen, and I decided not to press her.

"How about you, Anna?" I asked.

"Oh, I come from Boulder, Colorado," she replied.  
"I came here because it sounded nice."  She smiled 
sweetly.

Tom, of course, grew up in the same suburb of San 
Jose that I did.  It wouldn't do to ask him a 
question like that.  Anna, thankfully, saved me 
from coming up with another innocuous question.
"So," she said, her chocolate eyes luminous.  "Did 
you hear what happened over at Sigma Epsilon?"

I was never much on Greek life, and didn't 
particularly care, but it kept the subject on safe 
ground.  Cindy had her wide, innocent eyes on 
again.  "What happened?" she asked, almost like it 
was an obligation.

"Well, I overhead this girl in my psych class 
talking to one of her friends," Anna said, leaning 
in conspiratorially, "and apparently they had a 
hot body and wet tee shirt contest going on."  She 
paused, to make sure everyone was listening.  "And 
apparently, it got really wild."

"How wild?" Tom whispered.  Any sentence with `wet 
T-shirt' in it got his attention, and this was no 
exception.

"Apparently, one girl gave one of the guys head on 
stage," Anna said knowingly.

Cindy looked aghast, and Tom's eyes got really 
wide.  I felt heat flush my cheeks.

"You're kidding?" Cindy stated.

Anna shook her head.

"I could never do that," Cindy said, earnestly.

I could see the gears turning in Tom's head.  
"That is wild."

Tom was always thinking with his dick.

"That's disgusting," Cindy stated flatly, leaning 
back.  "And on stage!"

I grabbed my empty cup, filled it with soda, and 
downed it.  "It's probably just a rumor.  No self-
respecting girl would do that."

"I don't know," Anna said, her eyes twinkling.  "I 
bet it's true."

"I'm with Justin," Cindy said.  "No way.  The 
university would be outraged."

"The university probably doesn't know," Tom 
pointed out.  "Besides, how could they prove it?"

"Camcorder?" I suggested.

Tom rolled his eyes.
"I bet neither of you have gone to fraternity or 
sorority party," Anna said.

"Neither have you," Cindy pointed out.

"True," Anna allowed.  "But I hear they get really 
wild."

Cindy sighed and picked up the slice of pizza she 
had been eating.  "You are such a slut, Anna."
Anna glared at her.  Next to her, Tom couldn't 
help but smile.  I almost kicked him in the shin 
again.

"Anyway," Cindy continued.  "Do either of you have 
a car?"

I nodded.

"Cool," Cindy said, with one of her entire face 
smiles.  "Do you like hiking?"

I smiled.  "Love it."

"Great," she said.  "Ever been to the 
Superstitions?"

I hadn't, and told her so.

"They're a great place to hike," she told me.  

"Just don't get lost up there.  People do it all 
of the time, especially during the summer.  Why 
people hike the Superstitions in the summer is 
beyond me.  They never take enough water, they get 
dehydrated, lost, and eventually stuck.  Then the 
fire department has to rescue them."

I chuckled politely.  I hadn't yet gone hiking in 
the desert, but the thought was appealing.

"The hiking up north is great, too," Cindy 
continued.  "Make sure you visit Sedona and Sunset 
Crater.  They're gorgeous."

"Sunset Crater?  Is that where the meteor hit?" I 
asked.

"No," she said, as if I was being silly.  "It's a 
cinder cone volcano.  It's beautiful out there."
"Oh, a cinder cone," I brightened.  I knew what 
those were.  "I've never visited one.  Do they let 
you climb it?"

Cindy shook her head.  "Nope.  Too fragile.  But 
there are other cinder cones up north you can 
hike."

"Do you have earthquakes up there?" I asked.

"Not very often," Cindy continued.  "Little ones.  
Not like what you get out in California."

I could see Tom and Anna exchange befuddled 
glances out of the corner of my eye.  I turned to 
him.  "What?"

"Well," Tom said, in that tone he always asked me 
before he asked me a favor.

"What?"  I asked, this time more warily.

"You two seem to be hitting it off," he said, 
looking distinctly uncomfortable.  "Do you mind if 
Anna and I split?"

I glanced at Cindy.  "It'd be all right with me.  
How about you, Cindy?"

"Sure," she said, with a coy little smile.  "Don't 
stay up too late, you too."

Tom gave me a wolfish grin and the two took off, 
leaving Cindy and I with a pizza and a quarter of 
pitcher of soda.

Cindy and I stayed at Mama's, talking about 
various hiking experiences, until they closed at 
midnight.  I walked her back to her dormitory, the 
towering Manzinita Hall, which was about half-a-
mile from the pizzeria.  We talked about all sorts 
of things, hiking, school work, the strangeness of 
living in the urban desert.  By the time I left, 
it was close to two.  And we had agreed to meet 
the next day for the football game.


*	*	*


I was still furious with Tom over his indiscretion 
at Mama's, and despite my elation at meeting an 
attractive young woman who actually seemed to be 
interested in me, it didn't take the edge off.  So 
I slipped into a pair of pajama bottoms and lay 
down in bed, trying to go to sleep, but really 
waiting for Tom to come in.

He arrived at around three.  Quietly, he unlocked 
the door and began getting ready for bed in the 
dark.  I reached over and turned on the light.
Tom look like a little kid who had been caught 
with his hand in the cookie jar.  "Hi, Justin," he 
stammered.  He could tell by the look on my face I 
wasn't happy with him.

"I can't believe you told them!" I hissed at him.  
"What were you thinking?"

Tom sighed.  "Come on, she obviously likes you.  I 
was just keeping things moving."

"By telling her my eye-que score?"

"Anna told me she likes smart guys," Tom replied 
lamely.  "What's the big deal?"

"You know I hate it when people know I'm smart," I 
seethed.  "They look at me different."

"It's kind of hard to hide the fact that you're 
intelligent, Justin," Tom pointed out.  "It's not 
like you can pretend you're stupid all the time."

"I don't pretend I'm stupid.  It's just I don't 
want people to know I could join Mensa!"

"Well," Tom replied.  He was thinking of something 
to say.

"You didn't tell her my father was a minister, did 
you?" I demanded.

"Christ, no," Tom said, wounded.  "What do you 
think I am, crazy?"


*	*	*


The football game and Saturday itself seemed far 
too short, and unfortunately Cindy and I had 
massive piles of homework, so after the game and a 
long dinner I didn't want to end, we both had to 
hit the books.  I felt terribly behind on my 
coursework after just taking a day off, but I 
managed to finish my essay for history and tackle 
my journalism homework with plenty of time to 
spare.

I left for classes the next day, feeling terribly 
good about myself and remarkably rested.  Things 
went sailing right along until chemistry lab.
It was only my second real chemistry lab.  The 
first one had been a brief introduction by the 
teaching assistant who would be running our lab 
section, and after about fifteen minutes in class, 
we were dismissed.  The second one was a lecture 
on various pieces of chemistry equipment.

This class, however, was an actual lab.  We had to 
use Bunsen burners and various chemicals to 
identify a series of metals we were given.  We 
were given a battery of tests to use, and then let 
loose on our projects.  I was in such high spirits 
I had barely noticed the blonde beauty sitting 
next to me.

My obliviousness was shattered when she turned to 
me and introduced herself.

I couldn't tell much about her figure, since she 
was wearing the loose, long lab smock that made us 
all pretty much uniform in appearance, but she was 
strikingly pretty.  Her blonde hair was pulled 
back in a pony tail, and her eyes were a gunmetal 
gray.  Her face was heart shaped, and she wore a 
conservative amount of make-up:  a hint of blush 
on her cheeks, a pale shade of lipstick on her 
lips, and a little eye shadow.

"I'm Mandy Sneed," she told me, extending her 
hand.

"Justin Ford," I replied, shaking her shapely, tan 
hand.

She smiled at me and cocked her head.  "Do you 
know Cindy Holmgren?"

"Yes, I do," I stammered, surprised.  "Uh. how do 
you know Cindy?"

"She's my roommate," she said.  "This is so 
weird."

I nodded in agreement.

We chatted idly for a moment about the weather and 
our lecturer, then got into the nitty gritty of 
our lab.  We partnered up and attacked the 
assignment.  While we worked on the lab, we 
talked.  Mandy was a political science major from 
North Carolina.  She had known Cindy since the 
beginning of the last year, when they had been 
assigned each other as roommates.  We finished the 
lab quickly.  We went our separate ways, I 
marveling at the shapeliness of Mandy's figure 
(sans lab coat) briefly before heading off to the 
library to stay on track with my reading.


*	*	*


I ran into Mandy again on Wednesday, during the 
lecture section of our chemistry class.  We 
chatted about the wonderful weather before the 
lecture started.  After class, Mandy and I found 
ourselves walking to the social sciences building.  
We both had classes there, so we continued our 
conversation during the walk there.

I had called Cindy Tuesday night, and was finding 
my newfound social life rewarding.  It was nice 
having other friends besides Tom, and I found that 
I got more work down quicker when I had social 
contacts to maintain.  Thursday, Mandy called me 
with a question about our chemistry homework, and 
then Cindy took away the phone to tell me about 
this documentary she had seen on the Grand Tetons.

I was in the best spirits I had been in all 
semester.  I was looking forward to Friday; I 
wasn't sure what it had in store for me yet, but I 
hoped to do something with Cindy.  We were playing 
it by ear until we knew how much coursework we had 
to do.

Friday morning, while Mandy and I walked to our 
social science classes, she was particularly 
talkative.  "What are you doing tonight?" she 
asked.

"I don't know yet," I replied.  "Cindy and I were 
waiting to see how homework stood."

She scoffed.  "You two have always got your noses 
in your books.  Tell you what you are going to do.  
You and Cindy are coming to a small gathering at a 
friend's."

"I don't know," I began.

"Come on, it'll be fun," she told me.  "You can't 
have that much homework.  Live a little.  Anna and 
Tom are coming, by the way."

"How many people are going to be there?" I asked.  
I was never big on crowds.

"My friend, her boyfriend, her roommate, her 
boyfriend, a friend of mine, Tom, Anna, Cindy and 
you.  Small gathering," she said, dismissively.  
"Come on, it'll be fun."

"I don't know, Mandy," I began.

"Oh, come on, you old straight arrow.  You two 
need to loosen up," she said.  "My friend is 
twenty-four," she said, as if dangling a carrot in 
front of me.

I may be smart, but I'm not always quick-witted.  
"So?"

"Plenty of booze.  Bring blankets, a pillow, 
toothbrush, something to sleep in and change of 
clothes," she told me.

"But."
"You're coming," she said, and darted up a flight 
of stairs to her class.


*	*	*


As soon as I got home from my classes, I called 
Cindy.

"Oh, hi, Justin," she said happily.  "I've got 
good news.  I can go to the party tonight."

"Good," I replied, not really sure if I believed 
it.  "Mandy told me about it."

"Oh?" she didn't really sound that surprised.  
They were roommates, after all.

"Yeah," I said, not really sure what to say next.  
"She said it's a sleepover."

There was a long pause on the other end of the 
line.  "A sleepover?" she said, hesitantly.  
Obviously, Mandy hadn't informed her of that 
little detail.  I was hoping she would back out.  
Cautiously, she spoke, "That might be fun."

Peer pressure is a horrible thing.  Especially 
when a girl you really like is involved.  "Um, 
okay."  My mind was whirling.  If she was going to 
be there, I would go too.  But maybe I could still 
talk her out of it.  "Mandy said her friend is 
twenty-one.  There might be a lot of drinking."

Cindy thought about that for a moment.  "Well, I 
guess it's good it's a sleepover, then.  Nobody 
will be driving home drunk."

That wasn't the response I was looking for.  My 
parents would be furious with me if they knew I 
went to a co-ed sleepover.  It didn't matter if we 
were being responsible.  Then there was the fact 
that there would be underage consumption of 
alcohol.  The problem with being an nineteen-year-
old boy is that you don't always think that way.  
So what if we were underage?  Or that it was a co-
ed sleepover?  There was this attractive young 
lady that was willing to go with me.  Who knew 
what could happen?  And that was a powerful 
argument.

Then there was the fact that I had rarely drunk 
any alcohol before.  When I was in high school, I 
had always been a good kid.  I studied hard, 
walked the straight and narrow, and kept my nose 
clean.  In college, I kept myself so busy that I 
rarely cut loose with Tom.  He had brought a six-
pack of beer home from a party once, and we drank 
it during a San Francisco football game, but that 
was the extent of my drinking.  It was what was 
expected of a minister's son.  It seemed like 
everyone in the dormitory was obsessed with 
alcohol and getting wasted.  The parties started 
on Thursday night and didn't wind down until early 
Monday morning.  To say I wasn't curious would be 
a lie.  I was always curious.

It took me a torturous ten seconds to make my 
decision.  "Okay," I said, covering my forehead 
with my hand.  I couldn't believe I was doing 
this.  "What time do I come by to pick you up?"
"The party starts at nine," Cindy said brightly.  

"Pick me up at eight?"

"Are we talking Mandy with us?" I asked.

"Nope.  Mark's already picked her up.  They were 
going to Dos Gringos."

I knew were Dos Gringos was.  It was between 
Mama's and Cindy's dorm, next to a hamburger place 
and a deli.  "Alright," I said.  "I'll see you at 
eight."

I hung up and put my head in my hands.  What the 
hell did I think I was doing?  It was about three 
o'clock, and I still had to do some homework.  I 
walked over to my desk and dove into my school 
books.

Half-an-hour later, Tom came in.  "Hey," he said 
happily.  Tom was always at his happiest on Friday 
afternoons.  "Why are you doing homework?"

I just gave him a dirty look and returned to my 
books.

He grinned and slapped me on my shoulder.  "So, 
are you going to Jessica's party?"

It occurred to me I had no idea where I was going 
tonight.  "That's this girl's name?"

Tom nodded.  "You're coming right?"

I nodded.  I was beginning to really regret this 
decision.

"Good," he said, his grin growing even larger.  "I 
can't wait to meet this Mandy chick.  She sounds 
hot."

"She is," I grumbled.  "But aren't you dating 
Anna?"

"Nah," he said, opening up a drawer in his 
dresser.  "We're just seeing each other.  Besides, 
you and Cindy have really hit it off.  And I 
noticed you couldn't help noticing Mandy."

I blushed furiously.  I was the one who had told 
Tom of the beautiful Mandy.

"What's this Jessica like?" I asked.

Tom shrugged.  "About five ten, big hooters, dark 
hair, blue eyes, killer body."

I frowned at him.

"What?"

"Don't you ever think with anything besides your 
dick?"

Tom laughed at me.  "Ah, come on.  You've got to 
admit Anna and Cindy have hot friends.  Don't tell 
me you haven't noticed it."

I had noticed it, and had told Tom as much over 
the past week.  I was, after all, a heterosexual 
male.  And nineteen.  "Yeah.  But you and Anna are 
sort of dating."

"We're seeing each other," Tom said.  "Besides, I 
wouldn't dream of making a pass at any of Anna's 
friends.  They tell each other everything.  You 
know how girls are."

The semantics eluded me.  "I fail to see the 
difference between dating and seeing each other," 
I said bitterly.

Tom rolled his eyes.  "See, that's one of those 
things you can't hide.  You talk smart."

"What does that mean?"

"'I fail to see the difference between dating and 
seeing each other,'" Tom repeated.  "You talk like 
my English professor."

That stung.  I was always censoring myself, 
avoiding large words like the plague.  And now Tom 
was calling me out on my grammar.  "I didn't 
realize that bothered you," I said, turning my 
back to him and gazing back at my books.

"Relax, Justin," Tom said.  "You just think you 
hide your intelligence better than you do."

I pretended to ignore him by turning a page.

"Well, you aren't going to ruin my evening," Tom 
continued.  "With any luck, I'll be bedding Miss 
Hayes again tonight."

That got my attention.  Tom had told me that last 
Friday and Saturday the two had fooled around.  
Anna, at least according to Tom, was great in the 
sack.  "At the party?" I asked, stunned.  "Are you 
out of your mind?"

He looked like he had said something horrible.  He 
tried to cover, "Oh, lighten up," Tom told me.  
"You are such a prude."

Tom grabbed an empty athletic bag and began 
dropping some clothes into it.  "You know, if it 
hadn't been for Cecilia and Prom Night, I'd bet 
you'd still be a virgin."

Cecilia was a girl I had dated last year, and it 
had been pretty serious for a while.   The 
reference to Prom Night reminded me I hadn't lost 
my virginity until I was a senior in high school.  
On Prom Night.  I whirled on him.  "What's that 
supposed to mean?"

"Exactly what I said," Tom said haughtily.  "You 
never cut loose, take any chances.  You're in 
college, Justin, and you hardly ever go out.  
You're away from your parents, no one knows who 
you are.  Live a little."

I glared at him, and felt my ears burning and my 
cheeks flushing.  "I've had a lot of course work."

"Which is a joke to you," Tom pointed out.  "I 
noticed your homework always takes up exactly as 
much time as you have.  When you talk to Mandy or 
Cindy, the homework gets done quicker.  
Convenient, huh?"

I was, once more, furious with my best friend.  
First last Friday, then this Friday.  "Well, if 
you'd just applied yourself a little harder, you 
could've gotten into Berkeley," I snapped off.
"I didn't make you come here," Tom snarled.  "You 
were the one that decided to come.  I came here 
because everyone in my family went to school 
here."

"You wasted your opportunity," I roared.  "You 
blew off high school."

"Why are you here, then?" Tom yelled back.  "You'd 
never go to a bad school.  Not Mister Perfect.  
You were number three in our class, remember?"

I had no ready response, and Tom knew it.  A long, 
awkward silence developed between us.  I grabbed 
my duffel bag and went to my dresser.  I started 
filling it with things for the evening.  Tom 
grabbed the pillow off his bed and started folding 
up his quilt.  There was a long pregnant silence 
as we clattered around our tiny dorm room, 
ignoring each other.

Tom went into the bathroom and grabbed a few, last 
second things.  "I'll see you at the party!" he 
yelled.

"Fine!" I hollered back.  Tom slammed the door as 
he left.


*	*	*


I left Ocotillo Hall to pick up Cindy at five till 
eight.  I had dressed in a navy shirt, a pair of 
black jeans, and a pair of battered Doc Martens I 
usually wore hiking.  When I arrived at the 
sixteen-story dormitory that Cindy lived in, I 
couldn't find a parking place in the tiny visitor 
lot it shared with the nearby Palo Verde complex.  
So I double parked.

Cindy must have been waiting for me, because I 
just started looking for her when she opened up 
the passenger side door.  She was dressed in a 
tight, turquoise-colored shirt that showed a 
sliver of bare midriff.  Tight, hip hunger jeans 
rode low on her hips, exposing a wider swath of 
pale flesh when she moved.  I noticed her breasts 
were larger than my prior assessment, and I 
figured this was because the shirt was a lot more 
revealing.  "Nice car," she said, admiring the 
black Volvo.

"Graduation gift from my parents," I told her.
She tossed an overnight bag, a pillow and a neatly 
folded blanket and quilt into the back seat.  I 
smiled at her as she buckled in.  She looked at 
me, tucking her hair behind her right ear.  She 
wore more make-up than I had seen her wear before.  
A hint of rogue on the cheeks, a light eye shadow, 
eye liner, and a pale red shade of lipstick. "You 
hungry?" she asked.

"I could eat," I responded.

"Want to pick up a sandwich or something before we 
head for Jessica's?"

I nodded.

We stopped by a place called Dilly's Deli, where 
we ordered oven-backed sandwiches.  As we dug in, 
Cindy asked, "You haven't met Jessica yet, have 
you?"

I shook my head.

"Me neither," she told me.  "But Mandy told me 
about her.  She went to cosmetology school, then 
got a job at a beauty saloon, and found out she 
hated it.  So she decided to come to university to 
get a degree.  She's a junior now."

"How did Mandy meet her?"

"I'm not really sure," Cindy responded.  "They 
have a class together."

"Tom's met her," I said, digging into a side of 
potato salad.

"Really?" Cindy replied.  She looked wary.  I 
shared her apprehensions about this party, but 
something kept me from voicing them.  A quiet 
pause hung between us, filled with unasked 
questions and unknown answers.

"This potato salad is delicious," I told her.  It 
was out of the blue, and the salad was good.  More 
importantly, it broke the silence.

She smiled prettily at me.  It occurred to me that 
she reminded me of a pixie.  "Mandy told me this 
place was good.  She's really nice," she told me.  

"I thought you'd like her."

"What's her roommate like?"

She blinked, then grinned flirtily.  "She looks a 
lot like me, actually.  Met this really cool guy 
last weekend."

I felt heat rise in my cheeks, then said.  "I 
meant Jessica's roommate."

"Ah," she said, feigning confusion.  God, she was 
cute.  "You mean Selene?"

"Selene?" I repeated.

"Selene," she gave me a little smile.  "Mandy says 
she's very pretty, with a high squeaky voice."  
She said the last in a high, squeaky voice of her 
own.  She giggled.  "I'm not sure if she's in 
school or not.  I know she's works for her dad."

Apparently, she had exhausted her knowledge of the 
mysterious Jessica and Selene, since she asked me 
how my classes were going.  I told her that they 
were going well, but I had a lot of work.  Her 
classes were going well, too.  She was finally 
getting adjusted to this term's workload, and 
didn't feel quite so overwhelmed.

Bellies full, we continued our journey to Selene 
and Jessica's apartment.  The apartment itself was 
an older complex of buildings, not far from the 
deli, painted white and surrounded by neatly 
manicured, lush lawns.  Their apartment was 
located in a one-story unit with four other units 
in a neat little row.

It was about a quarter till nine, I noted on my 
watch.  "We're early," I said.

Suddenly, Cindy had grabbed my face with both of 
her hands, turned me to face her, and planted her 
lips on mine.  I could feel her warm, probing 
tongue on my lips, so I opened them and her tongue 
met mine.  It was a delicious, delightful kiss, 
very sudden, but very welcome.  I immediately 
sprung an erection, but in a dark parking lot in a 
dark car, I didn't really mind.

My breathing became heavier as the kiss became 
urgent, and I turned awkwardly in my seat and 
wrapped my arms around her.  Her body seemed very 
lithe and very warm as I rubbed my hands over her 
back.  I could feel her quickened breath against 
my cheek, could hear hungry little noises coming 
from the back of her throat.  Her lips were eager, 
yet gentle, and her tongue was prodding and poking 
in a delicate but unhesitant way.

She pulled away, breathing hard.  The slight rogue 
on her cheeks had turned to a very evident 
crimson.  "I'm sorry," she said, hand to her 
mouth.  "Was that too.?"

I smiled at her, noticing the warm glow of my own 
skin for the first time.  "No, it was nice," I 
told her.  That seemed to make her relax, and she 
smiled at me.

"I got some lipstick on you," she said, digging in 
her purse for a tissue.  She reached out and 
gently wiped it off my lips.  She seemed extremely 
flustered; her hand was shaking as it touched my 
face.  Satisfied she had wiped the evidence off my 
face, she cracked open the passenger door.  The 
overhead light came on, and she pulled down the 
visor so she could reapply her lipstick.

There is something very erotic about watching a 
girl put on lipstick.  As I watched, I realized my 
erection wasn't going down.  Great.  I glanced at 
my watch.  Ten till.  Bright headlights suddenly 
washed over the car, and a blue Lexus pulled up.  
In the passenger side, I recognized Mandy.  The 
driver was a tall, dark-haired man with a goatee.  
The car simply exuded wealth.

"Mark and Mandy are here," I told Cindy as she 
returned her lipstick to her purse.

"Really?" she sounded a little disappointed.  I 
realized I was too.  I was kind of hoping for 
another kiss.  Cindy opened her door the rest of 
the way and waved to Mandy, who had emerged from 
her ride.  My erection was finally shrinking, so I 
decided to open my door, as well.

If I had thought Mandy was beautiful before, she 
was dreadfully stunning now.  Even in the dark, 
her heart-shaped face was framed by her lustrous 
blonde locks, which she had teased into a 
completely different hairstyle than the one she 
wore to school.  She also wore more make-up, as if 
she was going dancing:  lots of eyeliner, blue eye 
shadow, a lot of blush, and deep red lipstick.  It 
usually made girls look slutty to wear that much 
make-up, but on Mandy, it seemed to work.

If Mandy's make-up and hair was stunning, her 
outfit was practically spectacular.  She wore a 
black leather chemise, leaving a stretch of her 
midriff bare and the top of her shapely breasts 
open as well.  Two spaghetti thin leather straps 
held it to her top.  Her jeans were tight and 
black, displaying her wonderfully shapely legs, 
and she wore red pumps that matched her lipstick.
Mandy greeted me with a huge grin and hug.  As I 
wrapped my hands around her, I realized the back 
of her leather shirt was open, criss-crossed with 
thin leather straps.  I could feel the smooth skin 
of her back, as well as the exposed back of her 
strapless bra.  My penis stirred once more.

"Glad you could make it," she whispered in my ear.  
She pecked my cheek and then ran over to Cindy.
"Hey girl," Mandy said playfully.  "I haven't seen 
you in ages!"  It was an inside joke.  They had 
seen each other only hours before.  The girls 
embraced and Mandy began talking animatedly.

I glanced over at Mark, who was grinning at me.  
He gestured at his cheek at the same spot where 
Mandy had kissed me.  I realized I had make-up on 
me again.  I rubbed my cheek and walked over to 
him, blushing horribly.

Mark was indeed tall, well over six feet, with 
raven-black hair and an almost impossibly dark 
goatee.  He wore a shimmering gray shirt and black 
dockers, and there were expensive loafers on his 
feet.  He looked quite a bit older than me, I 
guessed mid or late twenties.  He smiled at me.  
"Mark Winters," he told me, extending his hand.  
"You must be Justin."

I nodded, still feeling embarrassed.  His date had 
just left lipstick on my cheek.  "Nice to meet 
you," I said.

He bent and whispered to me.  "We'd better 
separate them," he said with a grin.  "Or we'll be 
out here for hours."

I decided I liked Mark immediately.

With the girls still chattering on the other side 
of my Volvo, I popped the trunk and gathered up my 
things.  Mark did the same, his items under one 
arm, Mandy's under the other.  I glanced at the 
trunk of his Lexus, and noted that even the 
interior of the trunk looked posh and expensive.  

He walked up to the apartment and rang the bell 
while I grabbed Cindy's things and followed him 
up.  Behind me, Cindy and Mandy were still talking 
animatedly, but were slowly making their way to 
the front door.

The door burst open and we greeted by a short, 
petite young woman with wavy auburn hair and a 
large friendly smile.  "Hey, Mark," she said, her 
voice high but cute.

Mark greeted her and gave her a friendly hug.  
Then he stepped inside.  The pretty young woman 
turned her attention to me.  Her auburn hair 
cascaded down past her shoulders, and her eyes 
were a vivid shade of green.  She wore just a hint 
of eye make-up and a light shade of lipstick on 
her full, generous lips.  She wore a chemise-like 
light green shirt, exposing the pale skin of a 
flawless throat and chest.  A few freckles were 
scattered over the tops of her small, pert 
breasts.  Pink bra straps arced over her well-
formed shoulders.  Blue-jean cut-off shorts 
revealed powerfully-built thighs and calves.  She 
definitely worked out.  She was barefoot, her 
toenails painted green.

"I'm Selene Davis," she said to him, glancing at 
me.  "You must be Justin Ford?"

I nodded.  I shook hands with her awkwardly.  
Everyone seemed to know me already.  It made me 
feel somewhat uneasy.  Her hand held mine for a 
moment.  She had a good grip and smooth skin, and 
her fingernails were painted green to match her 
shirt and toes.

She smiled, then told us to come in.  Mark and I 
maneuvered pillows, blankets and bags into the 
apartment.  The apartment was a two-bedroom, with 
a large common room between.  In the back of the 
common room, an open door led into a small 
bathroom.  The kitchen was offset into the wall, a 
bar running continuously from the back wall of the 
room.  The bar was covered with liquor bottles.  
Curtains were pulled in the kitchen, and the 
bedrooms were dark.

The common room was very roomy, at least twenty 
feet square, and a sofa and easy chair were pushed 
against one wall.  The coffee table was under the 
window next to two end tables.  An entertainment 
center stood in the corner between the sofa and 
the tables.  A large television and sizeable 
stereo were ensconced inside.  This left the 
lion's share of the common room open.  Two large 
bean bag chairs were occupied by two young men.  
They stood up as we entered.

Over the couch was a strange object-de-art.  It 
was large wooden circle, roughly three feet 
across, with a pair of shiny aluminum bars, one 
vertical, one horizontal, cutting through it's 
middle.  Mounted on the bars was a giant red 
heart, presumably wooden as well.  In a room 
otherwise devoid of pictures, art or other wall 
hangings, the circle and heart seemed to be of 
special significance.

"Pile up your stuff on the couch," Selene told me.  
She greeted Mandy warmly as the girls arrived 
inside, then introduced herself to Cindy.

"Jesse!" Selene called.  "They're here!"

There was no immediate response, so Selene excused 
herself to find her roommate.

The guys approached us.  The first was a swarthy 
looking guy, shorter than my five eleven by 
several inches.  He was muscular, with deeply 
tanned skin and hazel colored eyes.  His dark hair 
was short and wild.  He wore a light blue polo 
shirt, jeans and sandals.  He looked to be around 
the same age as Mark.  He introduced himself as 
Frank Castillo.

The other guy was named Jeff White, and was taller 
than Mark, very lanky.  His pale skin was covered 
with freckles, and his brown hair was neatly 
manicured and a bit greasy looking.  His eyes were 
light shade of brown, and he wore a T-Shirt that 
read, "One Tequila, Two Tequila, Three Tequila, 
Floor."  He wore a pair of denim shorts and a pair 
of grungy old sneakers.

Jeff was Jessica's boyfriend, while Frank 
introduced himself as a friend of the group.  
Whatever that meant.

Both were affiliated with A.S.U., Frank a biology 
graduate and Jeff a general studies major closer 
to our age.  Neither seemed very interested in 
scholarly pursuits.  Frank worked at a blood 
testing facility in Phoenix, while Jeff worked at 
T.G.I. Friday's in Mesa as a waiter.

Jessica entered the room then, and Tom was right, 
she was a knockout.  She looked taller than me, 
but she was wearing platform clogs at the end of 
incredibly long, tan legs.  She wore a pink, knee-
length skirt that suggested curvy hips.  A black, 
bare midriff top exposed an impossibly flat, brown 
belly, complete with shapely belly-button.  The 
black top swelled at her chest, indicating that 
Tom's assessment of her endowment was not far off.  
Topping off this impressive figure were waves of 
black hair and a slender face.  Jessica's lips 
were small, red and wet, yet were surprisingly 
full.  A narrow nose and high cheek bones were 
offset by bright, shining blue eyes and delicate 
eyebrows.

"Well, hello," she said to Cindy and I, 
practically purring.  "I'm Jessica Smith."

I stammered out a greeting.  She didn't seem to 
need an introduction from us, and I once more 
found this odd.  Jessica sat gracefully next to 
Jeff's beanbag, her skirt carefully arranged about 
her in a pink disk.  Selene came up to us and 
pressed cold cans of beer into our hands.  "Have a 
seat, gang."

Mark and I sat across from Jeff and Frank, and we 
were soon joined by Cindy and Mandy.  Cindy had a 
red wine cooler in her hand.  I watched her 
unscrew the top and tentatively take a sip.  She 
made a face that I hadn't seen before.  She leaned 
into me, resting the cold beverage on my knee.  
"Tastes different," she whispered into my ear.  
Her breath was hot and sweet, sending delightful 
shivers down my spine.

I popped open the can and took my first swig of 
beer.   It was bitter, just as I had remembered 
it.  Cindy had put her wine color down on the 
floor and replaced her hand on my thigh.  I was 
very conscious of the warmth of her touch.  She 
leaned into me again, and whispered.  "How does it 
taste?"

I turned to her face, inches away from mine.   Her 
lips were partly opened, exposing her white, even 
teeth.  I gulped.  "Bitter.  Want to try some?"
She nodded, her eyes locked on mine, and took the 
can from me.  She took a swallow, made a face, and 
returned it to my hand.  I could tell by her face 
she didn't like it.  Cindy changed positions, her 
hand leaving my thigh, but her body very close to 
me.

Mark was in insurance, and he was talking to Frank 
about the dismal state of the stock market.  
Mandy, sitting between Mark and Cindy, looked 
bored and turned away.  I caught her eye and she 
winked at me.  She returned her attention to the 
discussion Mark and Frank were having.  If I 
didn't know better, I'd swear Mandy was flirting 
with me.  She seemed to have shifted her seat a 
little to give me a better view of her slightly 
tanned, nearly naked back.  I realized, in the 
better light of the apartment, that Mandy's tan 
line was visible as two lines reaching up and over 
her shoulders.  I could also see the line of her 
panties clearly defined in her tight jeans, and 
could see the black waistline just peeking out of 
her jeans.  The string appeared, and a tiny bit of 
bare skin below it seemingly winked at me.  I 
gulped.  The view was decidedly erotic, and one 
that I shouldn't be witnessing.  She was Cindy's 
friend and roommate, and now my friend as well.  
It was wrong to look at her that way.

Across from me, Jeff and Jessica were sitting 
facing one another, engrossed in a deep 
conversation.  Selene returned with a light green 
wine cooler in her hand, noticed Cindy and I 
sitting next to each other, and made her way 
towards us.

"So," she said as she sat down before us, cross-
legged.  I noticed the incredible muscle tone of 
her legs again, and how high she had cut her 
jeans.  "It's nice to finally meet you in person."
She smiled at Cindy for a moment.  Her green eyes 
danced.  "I know Cindy's working on elementary 
ed," she began.  Cindy looked surprised that 
Selene knew that.  "What are you studying, 
Justin?"

"General studies," I told her.  "I haven't really 
decided yet.  How about you?"

"Well, I was a business major, but I dropped out."  
She added, "I work for my father now." She took 
several swallows of her wine cooler.  "You guys 
are sophomores, right?"

We nodded.  "Don't party too hard," she warned us.  
"I have a lot of friends that didn't make it 
through their second year."

She took another drink, then glanced at us, then 
our drinks.  "Drink up!" she said with a 
mischievous glint in her eye.  She threw back her 
head and took five, big swallows.

I took a swallow of my beer, and Cindy took one of 
her wine cooler.

She looked at us warily.  "Come on.  You can do 
better than that."

I looked nervously at Cindy, who looked equally 
concerned.  We both took our beverages and threw 
them back.  I managed four swallows before the 
warmth and bitterness forced me to stop.  Cindy 
was still pouring hers down her throat, and I 
marveled at the shape of her long neck as she 
swallowed.  A tear seemed to be running down her 
cheek, and she finally stopped, gasping, making a 
horrible face.

Selene beamed.  "That's the spirit!"

I noticed that Jessica was standing up, her long 
legs flexing.  An empty beer bottle was in her 
hands, along with a can.  I presumed the can was 
empty and belonged to Jeff.

Selene leaned in closer, her emerald eyes bright 
and playful.  "When Tom and Anna get here, we'll 
play some games to break the ice.  Don't you 
worry.  Here."

She had taken Cindy's wine cooler from her hand.  
Selene stood on her knees beside her. "Lean your 
head back," she told her gently.  

Cindy did.

"Farther," she said.

Cindy tilted her head back till she gazed at the 
ceiling.  Her hands were supporting her, knees 
were bent, feet flat on the floor.  I wished I was 
a vampire sucking on that neck.

"Open your mouth."

I could tell by the look on Cindy's face that she 
was uneasy.

"Don't forget to try to breathe between swallows," 
she told her.  "Some people can't lean back and 
swallow like this, so I'll stop quickly, okay?"  
She raised the bottle of red liquid over Cindy's 
lips.  She tilted it and slowly poured the liquid 
into Cindy's mouth.  Cindy started gulping, eyes 
closed.  I could hear the breath racing in and out 
of her nose.  The muscles in her throat worked 
constantly, keeping pace with the wine cooler that 
Selene was pouring into her mouth.  Selene stopped 
briefly.  "Are you alright?" she asked.

Cindy nodded, breathing heavily.  I couldn't help 
but notice the rise and fall of her bust.  My 
penis twitched and started to swell.  Mentally, I 
groaned.  Not now.

"Okay, let's do it again," she said.  Cindy leaned 
back, closed her eyes, and opened her mouth.  The 
red liquid poured, and this time Selene kept 
pouring and pouring.  It was a small trickle, but 
constant, and Cindy kept swallowing, swallowing, 
swallowing.  Her bust rose sharply between each 
gulp, her breath coming out hard and audible 
through her nose.

A tear ran down her cheek, but she kept 
swallowing.  I was amazed.  She must have taken 
twenty gulps.  Half the bottle was gone.  A stream 
of tears was running over her cheek and into her 
silky blonde hair.  Selene tilted the bottle back 
at one point when Cindy's swallowing seemed to 
stop, but it was only a momentary pause.  Cindy 
took a gasping deep breath, then Selene started 
trickling, then pouring, the bottle once more.  
Cindy's eye lids fluttered for a moment, and I 
noticed her cheeks were really red.  Everyone in 
the room was watching Cindy and Selene.  All 
talking had stopped.  It was almost an erotic 
experience.  The bottle was almost empty, and 
Selene kept pouring.  Suddenly, Cindy spluttered, 
and Selene immediately stopped pouring.  None-the-
less, some of the beverage spilled onto her lips 
and over her cheeks.  Cindy leaned forward, 
blinking.

Selene hooted and the rest of the roar exploding 
into a roar of cheering.  I looked at her, amazed.
Cindy gasped and wiped her lips off with the back 
of her hand.  Selene reached out and ran a finger 
up the rivulet on Cindy's cheek, collecting the 
ruby liquid with her finger tip.  She put the 
finger in her mouth and the group cheered again.  
Cindy looked at the ground with an embarrassed 
laugh.

Selene handed her the bottle.  "See, almost 
finished."

Cindy took the bottle and tilted her head back, 
greedily swallowing the last four swallows of the 
wine cooler.

Mandy let out a hoot next to her and clapped.  
Selene stood up and walked to the kitchen.  I 
watched her ass and legs for a moment, then 
glanced over at Cindy, who was looking at me 
accusingly.

She leaned into me, whispered.  "Do you like her 
better than me?" She sounded hurt.

"No," I breathed.  "She's pretty, is all."

Her eyes seemed to well up with tears.  Her lip 
quivered.  "Don't you think I'm pretty?"

I touched her chin, moved into kiss her lips.  It 
was a gentle kiss, and I could taste strawberry on 
her mouth.  "I think you're beautiful."

That seemed to brighten her up.  Selene returned 
with another can of beer and another red wine 
cooler for Cindy.  She looked at me, then at 
Cindy.  Selene reached over and took my beer out 
of my hand.  She offered it to Cindy.

"Cindy," she said.  "Why don't you do Justin?"