called, with this mystery man.” I smile and point at the guy beside me thinking I have no idea of his name, or I’d introduce her formally.
“Ha-ha ... Are you insane? Everyone knows this mystery man,” she says to him putting on the Morgan Chamber’s full flirt effect. I just shrug it off knowing she knows everyone, and I don’t really care who my game coach is. At this point, the most important thing in the world is that he’s teaching me how not to lose this game.
He nods at the table, dismissing her flirtations, and I realize the game must continue. The other guy is up. He shoots, and the ball sinks in a corner cup. Does that mean I drink? Shit. I don’t know how this part works. Do I only drink when the girl sinks a ball? Wait. When mystery man picks up the cup and passes it to me, my heart sinks. I was having fun, but I don’t want to drink. What would my parents say if I got caught drinking? I’d be screwed.
I shake my head and tell mystery man to drink up, none for me, but he ignores me, assuring me again that game rules require I take this one. He resumes the authoritative tone leaving me to either drink or look like a fool with everyone watching. But I know if I do drink, everyone’s watching and word could easily get back to my mother.
Morgan, reading my thoughts, leans forward speaking quietly to me so no one can hear. “Drink it, Char, it’s fine. It’s not even a full beer.” With her influence and the pressure of everyone watching, I pause staring down at the cup and know this will either be a really good or a really bad decision. We shall see. I tip the cup and chug; with a smile on my face, I toss the empty cup to the side of the table next to the others.
“That didn’t suck,” I tell her over my shoulder then meet the eyes of my coach before he takes his turn, of course sinking the next ball and every one that followed. Even though I missed a couple of the tougher shots when the cups were spread farther apart, I still took pride in the fact that I did far better than the other girl did. By the time the game ended, I had consumed four cups of the gross beer. I have no idea what that equates to in actual full beverages, but I was feeling a little lighter nonetheless.
“Thanks for the game, Coach,” she says cheerfully, and I see she’s planning to make a quick retreat. I watch as she turns, and I get another whiff of sugared daisies, and like an addict, my nose follows the trail of her scent. I became addicted the second I got my first whiff, and in the last thirty minutes of her standing next to me, I didn’t get enough.
Need more. If she smells like daisies and powdered sugar, I can’t even imagine what she tastes like. FUCK. What’s wrong with me? I adjust my cock that’s getting crushed from the tightening in my pants, wishing I could kick my own ass for getting rock solid at the thought of just her taste.
I can’t take my eyes off her. I’m trying to play it cool and not be obvious. She’s looking through the crowds trying to find someone, probably her friends, but maybe she’s looking for the bathroom or a drink. It’s doubtful, though. How in the hell Morgan Chambers is a friend of hers could be the mystery of the century. Anyone with eyes could look at her and know that she and crazy-ass Morgan have nothing in common. I’m sure it would be an interesting story of how that match came to life, and even more surprisingly, I want to know.
Morgan left her a while ago saying she was going to get a refill and would be right back. She’s not back, and while I’m not surprised, Charlie is. I glance over the crowds, using my height as an advantage since she doesn’t have that benefit, to see if I can spot her shitty friend at either of the drink stations. And as I suspected, she’s nowhere to be seen. Charlie is looking more and more stressed by the second with her failed search
“Ha-ha ... Are you insane? Everyone knows this mystery man,” she says to him putting on the Morgan Chamber’s full flirt effect. I just shrug it off knowing she knows everyone, and I don’t really care who my game coach is. At this point, the most important thing in the world is that he’s teaching me how not to lose this game.
He nods at the table, dismissing her flirtations, and I realize the game must continue. The other guy is up. He shoots, and the ball sinks in a corner cup. Does that mean I drink? Shit. I don’t know how this part works. Do I only drink when the girl sinks a ball? Wait. When mystery man picks up the cup and passes it to me, my heart sinks. I was having fun, but I don’t want to drink. What would my parents say if I got caught drinking? I’d be screwed.
I shake my head and tell mystery man to drink up, none for me, but he ignores me, assuring me again that game rules require I take this one. He resumes the authoritative tone leaving me to either drink or look like a fool with everyone watching. But I know if I do drink, everyone’s watching and word could easily get back to my mother.
Morgan, reading my thoughts, leans forward speaking quietly to me so no one can hear. “Drink it, Char, it’s fine. It’s not even a full beer.” With her influence and the pressure of everyone watching, I pause staring down at the cup and know this will either be a really good or a really bad decision. We shall see. I tip the cup and chug; with a smile on my face, I toss the empty cup to the side of the table next to the others.
“That didn’t suck,” I tell her over my shoulder then meet the eyes of my coach before he takes his turn, of course sinking the next ball and every one that followed. Even though I missed a couple of the tougher shots when the cups were spread farther apart, I still took pride in the fact that I did far better than the other girl did. By the time the game ended, I had consumed four cups of the gross beer. I have no idea what that equates to in actual full beverages, but I was feeling a little lighter nonetheless.
“Thanks for the game, Coach,” she says cheerfully, and I see she’s planning to make a quick retreat. I watch as she turns, and I get another whiff of sugared daisies, and like an addict, my nose follows the trail of her scent. I became addicted the second I got my first whiff, and in the last thirty minutes of her standing next to me, I didn’t get enough.
Need more. If she smells like daisies and powdered sugar, I can’t even imagine what she tastes like. FUCK. What’s wrong with me? I adjust my cock that’s getting crushed from the tightening in my pants, wishing I could kick my own ass for getting rock solid at the thought of just her taste.
I can’t take my eyes off her. I’m trying to play it cool and not be obvious. She’s looking through the crowds trying to find someone, probably her friends, but maybe she’s looking for the bathroom or a drink. It’s doubtful, though. How in the hell Morgan Chambers is a friend of hers could be the mystery of the century. Anyone with eyes could look at her and know that she and crazy-ass Morgan have nothing in common. I’m sure it would be an interesting story of how that match came to life, and even more surprisingly, I want to know.
Morgan left her a while ago saying she was going to get a refill and would be right back. She’s not back, and while I’m not surprised, Charlie is. I glance over the crowds, using my height as an advantage since she doesn’t have that benefit, to see if I can spot her shitty friend at either of the drink stations. And as I suspected, she’s nowhere to be seen. Charlie is looking more and more stressed by the second with her failed search
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