Now Peter was sure she was checking him out. Toby had made for the bathroom amid complaints about his shaky bladder, and so Peter figured if she was still looking it was at him, despite Toby’s vociferous claims to the contrary. He had an unobstructed line of sight across the living room and she didn’t seem to be interested in anyone else at the midweek house party. Peter knew which move he would use and was already mentally running through his sexy and self-confident build-up list, albeit without his ‘lion face’ as he was with company; Pete, you are a sexual being. Girls know you are a sexual being, and they like it. You are a sexpert. You are a Sexican bandit.
By the time he had reached ‘she will definitely enjoy it, definitely, don’t worry’, he felt ready, and nonchalantly met her eyes across the crowded living room. Feigning bashfulness he dropped his gaze, ready to raise it again with a shy but knowing grin. Not a huge one though, as he remembered that the girls didn’t like those ones when he was a stranger staring at them at house parties.
He chalked up another success to his textbook look-drop-grin as she smiled back, and began his approach. He affected an air of apprehension for his introduction, but Peter knew he was packing four and a half ounces of Sussex heat and by the funny feelings he was getting in his trousers, he proudly expected that soon she would too. Peter raised an eyebrow when he heard her accent; she was Welsh, and local she told him, or a native as he decided he would ironically describe her in the union bar the next day. He was pretty sure he was being charming, but he was having difficulty concentrating on mixing witty-but-not-too-raucous anecdotes with flattering-but-not-too-obvious compliments while at the same time imagining twiddling her nipples like an Etch-a-Sketch. This was exacerbated when he simultaneously began to ponder whether or not he could draw his penis on the Etch-a-Sketch he had back in his room.
Peter kept talking, and she was still listening, which made him so relieved he almost let it show on his face. This would have been unacceptable, and he resolved to write it down in the book when he got home in order to remember to punish himself for it at a later date. With this in mind, he began internally searching for a story of his cool wit, but as he paused, his lady companion leant into his ear. He inhaled sharply as her light brown hair brushed against his cheek and her hand fell on his hip, but he quickly steadied himself. She drew in breath and Peter felt the chill in his earlobe; she softly spoke and her words seemed to drop heavily into his lungs, to such a degree he could barely breathe. We should go outside. Peter instantly forgot the entire contents of the seduction book he had spend the previous seven weeks writing.
She span around and made for the front door, Peter caught up with her as she entered the hallway, slowly stroking the wall up and down with her hand as she moved along and stretching the other out behind her. Peter instinctively clasped it and followed her, taking a hefty swig from what was now his fifth bottle of blue WKD. She reached the door, but the momentum given to him by the alcopop now swilling inside him was too much; he pulled her around and pushed his body to hers. Her arms fell around him and, both breathing heavily from inebriation, she made as if to speak. Before the words could form, Peter pressed his mouth to hers and their tongues met, frantically but purposefully. She ran her hands down Peter’s back, as he brought his up her sides hoping to cup her breasts for a bit. She pulled back from him, panting, grinning, and insistently told him to, “Come on, let’s go.”
She was several paces in front of him, facing him, but still laughing and running. She turned a corner and Peter saw his chance to momentarily drop his wry grin and gasp for breath. He quickly followed the pavement around and almost ran past her as she waited for him against the wall. He paced towards her, trying not to look too tired out and asked her, “Where are we going?” But she just smiled back at him, knowingly. He decided not to press the issue and leant in to kiss her once more, but she slid from under his arms and continued running down the street. “Hurry up,” she laughed at him.
“This is my house,” she told him when they finally stopped a few minutes later, “and try not to wake my fucking parents.” Peter drew a deep breath while walking up to her front door, one that gave him the tingles he only felt when something super special was about to happen. Peter gave his tummy a little tickle for lack of anybody else to high five, and quickly withdrew his hand when she turned around to beckon him in. He mouthed the word ‘itch’, hoped she wasn’t on to him, and made his way inside.
Toby was now convinced that Peter wasn’t going to come back and began to contemplate how he would make him feel guilty when they got home. He would probably invent something for which he had required Peter’s help that supposedly happened during his absence. It couldn’t be something too important though, as this would interfere with Toby’s ongoing plan to make Peter feel as though he couldn’t do anything useful.
Peter snuck past the living room, where it became apparent that her dad had fallen asleep with the TV on, the noise of the late night drunk-baiting quiz possibly providing cover for the sounds that film and television had led Peter to believe sexual intercourse might entail. They made their way up the stairs, treading carefully, and reached a locked door. She brought out a key and unlocked it. Peter noticed, though he hoped it wasn’t that last event that had caused it, that at that point he had an erection. “This is our stop,” she told him as she turned around, pulling him against her and leading the two of them inward. Peter awkwardly held his crotch away from her, stumbling alternately over her feet and his own rather than let her know quite how much he was anticipating the act, now feeling uncharacteristically self-conscious.
While she was closing the door, Peter had managed to kick off both shoes and throw off his sweater. Before she reached the bed where he now sat, he had managed not only to remove his jeans and boxers, but also to wink in a manner he felt was pretty seductive. She stopped for a second, staring at him in his t-shirt and socks with an expression that did not seem to Peter to indicate arousal. He worried for a second, but quickly recovered with a lion-face and claws in her direction. She continued towards him and Peter notched up yet another quick save to his trademark face/hands combo.
TO BE CONTINUED!.... At a later date, though not too much later, I promise.
