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Playing With Fire.

It first happened at Nick’s Divorce Party, while I was vomiting in the bushes. This was all thanks to Waldo, by the way — that pudgy, pasty, poison-pushing bastard with the blow-horn voice. He buys people drinks when we’re at the bar, mixes drinks for people at parties. Sounds nice enough, right? No. When he’s around, people vomit.

I heard the door open and close, the noise of the party inside blast through and then be cut off at the throat as the door clicked closed again. I heard soft footsteps on the grass towards me. It took me some time to realize that Nathan’s girlfriend, Angie, was now standing right beside me, saying things to me and trying to hand me a bottle of water. Through talking, in between yacking into the greenery surrounding the house, my hand somehow starts touching her feet. Somehow this serves as an anchor in the swirling vortex inside the confines of my severely inebriated mind.

At first it was just like that: I needed to hold onto something, and she seemed to offer her foot. She has boots on, I suddenly notice. High boots. My girls-wearing-boots fetish kicks in. Her boots are like those cool shoes, only they’re boots laced up to the fucking knee. There was a girl who wore those very same shoe-boots in one of my college classes, and she always sat right in front of me and I would watch her as much as I tried not to. Just seemed so fucking sexy. I wanted her naked, with just the boots on, and I’d plow myself in and out of her like a goddamn jackhammer right there in the lecture hall.

As my hands went further up, up her dress, she didn’t stop me. Seemed to actually lean in to allow more easy access. Laughing, giggling, finding those hungry fingers on my wild and roaming hands as somehow cute. My hands went from the ass cheeks, across the taint, to the cushion of panties and nylon concealing her lovely lower lips.

This went on for perhaps ten, fifteen minutes. Its ending was memorable enough. It was when she said, laughing, “Just wait till I tell your sister about this,” that I stopped.

That’s right, I said to myself. She graduated with my sister, Eve. She was friends with my sister. Fuck. As I turned to continue vomiting, she pat my back and told me she was just kidding.

I saw her next at Terra’s Halloween party. While I was drunk, this time I was not violently emptying my guts into unsuspecting shrubbery. The first time I caught her out of the sight of Nathan, I promptly and sincerely apologized for my molesting behavior at the last party, but she just laughed and brushed it off. And then, not missing a beat, she asked me to slap her ass.

With a moment’s hesitation, I did.

“Firm, isn’t it?”

I touched it.

“Squeeze it.”

You could hardly squeeze it. Indeed it was firm, and no doubt from all her horseback riding. Or other riding.

“Do it again.”

I did.

“Harder.”

I did. I did slap her ass harder. And she liked it. And judging from where I myself was getting harder, I did as well.

“Now,” she demanded, “pull my hair.”

Now it was getting unbearably hot. So hot the radiation almost drowned out the discomfort I felt from the fact that we were not at all alone in Terra’s basement. She was playing with fire so nonchalantly. I thought to myself, “Just let me bend you over the beer cooler and rail you.”

“What did you say?” She asked.

Evidently I was drunk enough to be thinking out loud.

“Nothing,” I said, and bolted out of the basement door and into the darkness of the yard. I wandered a bit, trying to ignore how unbearably horny I was, which was difficult even in the simultaneous presence of profound guilt over doing moments ago what I had just finished apologizing for having done before.

Eventually I found refuge by the bonfire, around which a small group was revolving. Conversation began. In time, Nathan showed up behind me. At some point, Angie herself popped up beside him, and a while later Nathan says to her, “Why do you always end up getting molested by Ben at these parties?”

He said it casually. Annoyed at her, but not in any truly threatening, violent or even angry way. And towards me? Nothing.

I was utterly confused. Not only had she quite clearly told him about what had happened, but he seemed to hold no scorn about it.

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