by Emma Luna
Three
Piper
From the second I make eye contact with him, he ignores the group of people that he is obviously here to party with and makes his way across to where I’m sitting. We met last night when I came to scope out potential suitable candidates and it wasn’t long before Chance Reighton was throwing himself at me. Not that I mind, because he is most definitely not bad to look at. Chance has your typical surfer type style, which would be a lot cooler if the nearest beach where you stood any chance of riding a wave wasn’t over three hours drive from here. The south shores of England get enough of a swell that you’re able to ride some small waves, occasionally, if you don’t mind freezing your ball sac off at the same time. But this sleepy town just outside of London is nowhere near any sea, let alone any with waves. Yet Chance doesn’t seem to care, he owns how he looks.
Chance Reighton is just one of those guys who exudes confidence. It’s seeping out of every one of his beautifully smooth pores. And he has every reason to, he’s gorgeous. His sandy blond hair is sloppy, with a sexy combination of wind swept and just fucked, like he has run his fingers through it and given it that tousled look. In reality, that’s probably bullshit, he probably spends longer in the bathroom gelling his hair to the perfect messy look than I spend getting ready. Yet, the look suits him. The hair falls around his face in little waves, framing his gorgeous face whilst emphasising his angled jaw line. His crystal, sea blue eyes sparkle with the playfulness that oozes off his personality. His cheeks are covered with very short stubble, almost like he has just missed shaving for a couple of days, rather than going for any kind of beard look. He even has dimples in his cheeks when he raises his lips into a cocky grin.
Chance strides towards me with purpose and people move out of the way. I throw a glance back at the crowd of people that he just left to head over here. There are four guys, about the same age as Chance, who are all raising their beer bottles up into a toast, no doubt toasting their friend who they think walked off to get laid. They don’t seem all that bothered their friend is leaving them. Although, watching the way their eyes stalk over the different women in the crowd, it’s clear each of these men are here for one reason only. To pick up girls for sex. But that works perfectly for my plan. What doesn’t work well is the girl who is standing with the group and is staring daggers at me whilst looking like a wounded puppy dog. She is dressed as an American high school teenager with a short sports top on and an equally short skirt with shorts underneath. Her boobs are straining to explode out of her already too small top that is being made even worse because she’s folded her arms up underneath them, pushing them higher. Her abnormally straight brown hair and overly made up face tells me that she is no different to the men of the group. She came here looking for sex and her target just walked over to me. I try not to smile and instead, look back at Chance. I need her to move on because the less eyes on us the better.
Chance has paid about as much attention to the Halloween costume requirement as I have. He is dressed in tight blue jeans that have rips across the knees and a well worn feel. They hug his muscular thighs and arse just right. He’s wearing his well worn, signature Vans that he tells me he wears all the time and with everything. Completing his outfit is an extremely tight, white t-shirt that has thick black lettering across the centre, saying, ‘I sparkle in the sun’. Clearly a humorous reference to his very awful vampire costume. Yet, I can’t help but admire the t-shirt itself. Under the lights of the bar, his shirt at times appears almost see through and he absolutely works out. His pecs stretch the fabric tightly, spreading the writing out more than it should. Then it stretches down over his hard abdominal ridges. He really is a good looking guy, and that makes the flirting stage a whole lot easier.
“Hey, gorgeous, don’t you make a sexy devil?” He asks me once he’s within hearing distance and just before I have a chance to reply, he leans in and kisses me on my cheek. I ball my hands into fists. Not only do I not like to be touched without permission, I’m also the only person who can initiate any sort of sexual contact. As his lips touch my skin, it's almost like a ripple of disgust washes over me and spreads deep into my nerve endings because a shiver flashes over my body. He looks proud of himself, like it was a shiver of passion as opposed to complete repugnance. Still, I can’t let him know that and so I force my usual bubblegum smile on my face and wink at him when my brain finally registers he asked me a question.
“Thank you. Love your costume too, it suits you,” I say sweetly as he moves closer and puts his beer bottle down on the bar next to my drink. He angles his body slightly so he is leaning against the bar with his left hip, yet the rest of him is inclined closely towards me. He’s going for the typical macho look, trying to show that he doesn’t truly care, but we both know that’s not true. His flag has been flying half mast since he started his walk over to me and he’s practically drooling as his eyes take in my dress. I watch as his gaze takes in the tight silky material and he follows it down over my body. I have my right leg crossed over my left in front of the stool, keeping my legs together to not show off more than people paid to see. Yet, this position does emphasize the slit in my dress and my thigh. Once Chance takes his eyes off my tits, he will soon be able to see the beautiful tattoo that adorns my thigh and leg.
“Wow, babe, you have really gone all out this year. How long did it take you to paint those fucking disgusting rodents on your leg?” he asks, an air of abhorance in his voice that immediately gets my hackles up. I hate when people are judgemental towards my babies. They always get a bad rep and it pisses me off. History has spread lies about them being dirty and evil, but they are far from it. It takes all of my effort not to call the dickwad out on it right now, but that isn’t what a normal person would do.
“Well, go big or go home,” I say casually, not really answering his question. To distract him further, I adjust my leg ever so slightly and that magically brings the slit higher up my leg, exposing even more thigh. His eyes are now no longer focused on the tattoo. Instead, they are drifting higher up to my core. I see him examining my dress and the moment he works out I’m going commando is obvious. His sharp intake of breath is audible, even amongst the loud bass surrounding the club. He grinds his teeth down on his lower lip and instinctively leans further towards me. This catches the attention of the woman from his group and that worries me. She is still watching us like a hawk and if her scowl is anything to go by, she’s sporting a bit of the green eyed monster right about now. She wasn’t here yesterday or I would have reconsidered choosing Chance. I need to know what her connection to him is.
“Looks like you are being missed by your group,” I say seductively, leaning in closer to talk directly into his ear. Where we are, the music isn’t loud enough that we can’t hear each other, but it's a good pretence to get closer to him. I see the little shiver that ripples down his spine as I breathe into his ear. He turns to look at what I’m referring to, but it's only a quick glance. Like he can’t bear to not be looking at me.
“Oh yeah, that's Layla. She is the sister of one of my mates. I only met her today. Didn’t even know she was coming,” he said dismissively. He subtly moved closer to me and now our bodies are touching. I subtly, as if by accident, brush my arm against his as I reach for my drink. He watches me as I swallow some of the delicious liquid. The burn that slides down my throat sizzles and awakens my nerve endings again, just a little bit. It’s my way of subtly reminding Chance that he needs to give me all of his attention. It’s a pointless task because his eyes, that are almost molten with sex, have barely left my body.
“Looks like she has a crush,” I say into his ear again, this time purposefully placing my hand on his bicep. When my hand connects with his t-shirt covered arm, there's an initial tension, almost like he can’t believe that I’m touching him. This is exactly what I wanted. I want him to crave my touch and be desperate for it. Looks like it’s working.
“She is no one compared to you, babe,” he says, repea
ting my trick of whispering into my ear. He adds a little chuckle onto the end and I know he’s inflating his own ego. He thinks I’m jealous. He probably has some stupid scenario in his head of two girls fighting over him. That will not be happening. When I’ve set my sights on my target, I always get what I want.
His breath has no effect on me at all, the way mine does to him. I know he’s trying to turn me on and so I give him the reactions he’s looking for. I scrape my hand down his chest in a flirty way and pretend that I get a whole body shiver, before looking him in the eye and smiling my best bubblegum barbie smile. Showing him how happy I am with his statement, making him think he’s the one who chose me. Men are so predictable.
We chat and have a few drinks together by the bar and conversation flows easily between us because it’s your standard filler shit. I make sure to confirm with him all the important details that I learnt from him last night. Faking the fact I had too much to drink and that my memory of last night isn’t as good as it could be, I reiterate some of the more important points.
“So, you are only visiting this delightful little town and going back home tomorrow?” I ask, already knowing the answer but needing to hear that it hasn’t changed.
“Yeah. My boy, Ricky, over there, it was his birthday yesterday. I came down from uni to celebrate with him yesterday and since tonight is Halloween, I couldn’t turn down another party. Then I met you last night and there's no way I was turning down another night with you,” he says with a bit of a slur to his voice. He had a few Jack Daniels and I have had Lena up them to doubles without Chance knowing.
“Aww, I know. When I met you last night, I was so pleased you said you were coming back again tonight. When did you say you have to head back to uni? How long am I going to be able to talk you into staying for?” I whisper in his ear and this time, I place my lips ever so gently, almost ghosting them over the sensitive pulse point in his neck. He lets out a little gasp followed by a very deliberate groan.
“Fuck, I have to leave real early in the morning because I have a meeting at the uni that I am not allowed to miss. But you can bet that I will be back here the first chance I fucking get, baby girl,” Chance shouts in frustration. He mentioned yesterday he needs to leave in the morning before the sun comes up if he stands any chance of making it to his uni meeting in time. Apparently, Chance here is having issues with his grades and his behaviour. This meeting is to come up with a plan to allow him to stay at the school. If he doesn’t attend, it will look like he has decided that school isn’t really for him and he has dropped out.
Chance sees me smiling my very normal, yet slightly scary megawatt smile. I know he thinks it's because I like the misogynistic nickname he used on me or the fact he confirms he can’t stay away from me. But he’s wrong. I like the fact everyone knows he will be leaving in the morning and so nobody he came to the club with tonight will ever question where he is. There’s just one last thing that I need to clarify before I know things can move forward as planned.
“What about your family, Chance? Are they coming to the meeting with you?” I try to make my questioning sound like I’m genuinely interested in getting to know the handsome boy in front of me like loads of other girls are doing all around us. Sounding like an interrogation or like I’m fishing for information might make him ask questions. Then again, Chance is so far under my spell, I’m not even sure he would notice.
“Ha, yeah right. My family don’t give a shit, babe. My mum is drinking herself to death in our country house whilst playing the role of devoted wife to the bigwig CEO. She hosts dinner parties and attends charity functions, all to boost my family name. In the meantime, my father is travelling the world on his business meetings which usually result in him putting his dick into multiple women. He has been cheating on my mum for years and she has been drinking to pretend she doesn’t know and to block out her existence. I was raised by nannies. I’m not even sure either of them know I’m failing. Until I miss some important business function that, as heir to the Reighton family business, I have to attend, they wouldn’t even realise I’m missing.” He speaks with anger lacing his words, but there’s also a sadness there that I know most people wouldn’t be able to pick up on. I, on the other hand, couldn't be happier to hear his tragic life story. Admittedly, this little rich boy from a famous family is more high profile than I would have liked, but nobody really gives a shit about him, which for me is good. I just need to know that they aren’t in regular contact
“Sorry to hear that. Do you not see them often? Or at least talk to them?” I ask with compassion lacing my voice. He needs to think I care in order to think I am asking for the right kinds of reasons.
“Fuck, no. I will be home at Christmas because I have to be. My mum will leave me the odd drunk voicemail, but she will forget we didn’t actually speak. I might have the odd conversation with the secretary my father is banging about how much of a let down I am, but that’s about it. He doesn’t contact me himself and she’s so used to me hanging up on her now, I’m sure most of the time she just tells him she called me and doesn’t bother. Perfect parents, right?” he spits sarcastically, disgust clearly evident.
“I’m sorry,” I say whilst trying not to smile. The professional in me knows he’s opening up to me because he trusts me and likes me, he sees this as having potential. A normal girl, who started taking the conversation to a deeper level than is typically acceptable in a club, by bringing up family life, should now reciprocate or show him kindness. It's about the next step of bonding in a relationship and finding that compatibility. Whilst my brain knows all this, it couldn’t be further from my plan. I have no interest in getting to know Chance. Now I know everything I need to know, and there is nothing standing in the way of me going through with my scheme, I need to take things to the next level. The time for talking is done.
“Why don’t we dance and forget all about the heavy stuff?” I suggest seductively. His eyes rake over my body again and I know he’s looking forward to not only seeing how I move, but also how close I will let him get. He is quick to say yes and we both down the remaining bits of our drinks before I hop off the bar stool. I take hold of Chance’s hand to lead him into the middle of the dancefloor.
The music is louder in the middle of the already full dance floor. There are bodies surrounding us and the beat ripples through the floor and up into my body. It’s intoxicating. I have always loved the way that music can influence your body. A deep, booming bass rippling across the room like right now enhances all of your senses and makes you desperate to move to the beat. Whereas a soft, soulful, piano piece has the power to pull your mood down, make you reflect inwardly, and cause you to feel. Music has a power most people don’t realise.
Allowing the beat to flow through me, I forget that Chance is even here with me, at first, and I just move my hips. I swivel them around seductively, shaking my arse while I run my hands over my body. As my palm connects with my silk covered skin, it feels electric, as though all of my nerve endings are finally waking up and I feel alive. I close my eyes and lose myself in the rhythm and the sway of the music. Although I can hear people all around me and I can feel their body heat radiating like a furnace, I still feel like I’m alone. In my own little bubble.
I’m quickly dragged out of my solace when I feel a rougher hand touch my hip and my eyes shoot open. Chance is in front of me, his normally crystal blue eyes now look to have been filled with a storm cloud. His eyes are almost black with desire. His breaths are coming in short, sharp pants and I don’t even need to touch him to know that his heart will be racing. I’m sure if I look down right now, his jeans will be strained tight as his dick tries to escape. I don’t allow my gaze to wander, instead I allow him to look at me. Biting down on my bottom lip seductively, I allow my hands to gently graze over my nipples and with all the tension and electricity in the room, it’s all they need to become erect and visible through my dress.
With a masculine growl, Chance places his remaining ha
nd on my other hip and he pulls me towards him, closing the remaining gap between our bodies. His leg slides through the slit in my dress and I have a leg on either side of his. I allow my core to rest just slightly against his denim covered thigh and, fuck, does it feel good. Reluctantly, I remove my hands from my nipples and throw them around Chance’s neck. I twirl my fingers through his blond curls, tugging occasionally to pull out the delicious moan I know will come. Moving my hips, he does the same until we are dancing together as one. Our bodies moulding together and moving in time to the beat.
Resting my head against Chance’s neck, I feel his heart racing and I know it has synchronised with mine. Every nerve is on fire and with each agonising sway of my hip, my clit grinds down against his thigh just slightly. It’s never enough to send me over the edge, I would need more for that, but it’s just enough to drive me insane and make me crave more.
Chance’s hands glide down to my arse and he cups my cheeks, slamming my body harder against him. I can feel his hard erection, straining against his jeans, pressing against my stomach. The resulting moan in my ear is intoxicating. He nibbles on my earlobe and unexpectedly, it causes me to release the most sexy sigh. I thought I knew all of my turn-ons, I had no idea I would enjoy someone nibbling on my earlobe, but points to Chance for that one.
