His eyes lifted, and I offered a small smile that he returned. "Thanks."
We parted, and I left the museum, not sure where I was going - only that I had to go someplace where he wasn't. For an hour or so, I'd played make-believe with him, keeping that familiar depression away and allowing myself a small joy. Now, that darkness descended on me...and uneasily, I recalled how that mystery force always showed up when I was troubled. That was its lure: comfort when I felt desperate and alone.
Roman might be my offense, but I decided then to go for a good defense. I needed distraction. "You aren't going to like this," I murmured, assuming Roman was close enough to hear.
Distraction wasn't the only thing I needed. I needed a good energy fix. I was sleeping with enough men regularly that I had a pretty consistent supply of energy. Still, being at full power, so to speak, would keep my strength up - which hopefully would increase my mental resolve.
Not that sleeping with random men was always cheering. I was in no mood to go hunting for victims in a bar. I needed something slightly easier, something a little less sleazy. Normally those two were mutually exclusive, but I'd come up with an idea while driving home that might accomplish both.
There was a twenty-something guy named Gavin who lived in a condo down the hall from me. He was nice enough and had a serious crush on me. He never said or did anything overtly, but it was obvious. He alternated between nervousness and poorly done jokes whenever I was around. He always seemed unwilling to part when we ran into each other in the garage or lobby or whatever. His gaze also spent more time on my cle**age than my eyes.
The beauty of it all was that he also had a girlfriend. I didn't know if he'd cheated on her before or just wanted to. That wasn't important at the moment. What was important was that when I showed up at his door after the museum, his girlfriend wasn't around.
"Georgina," he said, taken aback. "How...how's it going?"
"Not great," I said, forcing distress into my voice. "I got locked out of my place and have to wait for my friend to show up with a spare set of keys. Can I wait here for her? I'm afraid if I go outside, it'll rain again."
It was then that Gavin seemed to notice my drenched state, particularly the now transparent white sundress I'd shape-shifted into without a bra.
His eyes bugged out, and then he glanced quickly behind him before turning back to the wet, clinging fabric encasing my br**sts and their hardened ni**les. "It...it rained? But it's so nice out." That brisk fall sunshine was pouring in through his windows.
"I know," I said glibly. "I was kind of surprised too. It was this really fast freak thing that came out of nowhere."
This was apparently so unbelievable that Gavin actually managed to tear himself away from me to once more scrutinize the brilliantly blue sky outside. Finally, deciding not to fight this, he beckoned for me to come in.
"Do you have a T-shirt or anything I can wear?" I asked sweetly. "I'm freezing in this."
His scrutiny had shifted from my br**sts to the very noticeable black thong underneath the dress. I think changing out of the dress was a huge disappointment for him, but he wasn't so socially inept as to refuse me.
"Sure, come on."
I followed him to his bedroom where he dug out an oversized Seattle Mariners T-shirt and a pair of green flannel boxers. He handed them over.
"See if these work," he said, backing out of the room to give me privacy.
"Thanks," I said, giving him a winning smile.
He managed a nervous one in return just before shutting the door. I crossed my arms and waited a minute, during which an invisible Roman said: "This is ridiculous. You should have just shown up as a pizza delivery girl."
"Hey, the wet dress technique is tried and true. Works every time."
"Wait in the other room then," I said. "This shouldn't take long."
I opened the door and shouted down the hall, "Hey, Gavin? Can you come help me?"
He popped back in, and I couldn't help but notice his dark brown hair was a lot neater than it had been earlier. He'd probably dashed off to the bathroom in a quick grooming attempt to impress me.
"What's wrong?" he asked.
I turned around and pushed my hair over one shoulder, showing where the straps of my dress's halter top were tied behind my neck. "There's a knot here I can't get undone. Can you give it a shot?"
He hesitated for only a moment before moving forward to assist. I'd shape-shifted a pretty good knot, and it took him some time to work through it, during which I backed up against him as close as I could. At last, he managed to undo it, pulling the straps apart and releasing them so that I could grab them. I missed, of course, and as the straps fell, so did most of the dress. It went against the laws of physics, seeing as how clingy that wet fabric had been.
I caught the dress in a weak attempt at modesty, but not before it almost entirely fell off. Nearby, I heard another exasperated sigh from Roman.
I turned to face Gavin, holding the dress against me in a way that completely exposed my chest. His eyes were naturally fixed on it, and I glanced down too, as though trying to figure out what he was looking at.
"Oh, man. I'm wet all over. Do you have a towel? I don't want to get the shirt wet."
In record speed, he raced to the bathroom and returned with a small hand towel. I decided then not to bother with any more convenient excuses and simply stepped forward, hoping he was smart enough to accept the invitation.
He was. Hesitant at first, he slowly ran the towel over my br**sts, lingering when it was obvious they were dry. He moved down to my stomach - which he dried pretty quickly - and then to my hips and thighs. I'd long since let my soggy dress fall to the floor and helpfully pulled off my thong so that he could reach every part. He had to kneel to do my inner thighs, and I heard him mutter, "Oh my God." I wasn't sure if that was simply because of the situation he was in or because his girlfriend hadn't gone Brazilian.
"You have great hands," I purred.
"Th-thanks," he said inanely. He'd just finished my legs and stood up. I took the towel and tossed it on the bed. Catching hold of his hand, I gently stroked it and brought it between my thighs.
"Really great," I said in an even lower voice. "Long fingers..."
I guided a couple of those fingers into me, and I swear, he gasped louder than I did. After a little more urging, he no longer needed my assistance and began rapidly thrusting his fingers on his own. I pressed to him, moaning as though it were the most amazing experience of my life. I was wetter on the inside than out, and the only resistance he encountered was in how tight I'd made myself.
Reaching around his arm, I unfastened his pants and pulled them off in one motion. His erection pointed out at me long and hard and ready. It had probably been that way the moment I showed up at the door. Gripping his shirt I pulled him toward the bed.
"The rest," I gasped, spreading myself in front of him. "Let me see how the rest feels."
The hand that had been in me left as he laid himself on top of me. He pushed my thighs apart and thrust in with a force that contradicted his earlier shyness. In fact, his face showed no nervousness whatsoever anymore. He was all eagerness and desire, emitting small grunts each time he shoved himself into me.
"Harder," I told him, giving him big, passionate eyes. "I want it harder."
He obliged, increasing the speed and force. After about a minute of this, he shifted up so that he was kneeling. Holding my thighs just below my knees, he spread my legs far apart and leaned in. The new position allowed him to get deeper, and I exclaimed my approval, urging him again to do it harder and harder.
Steadily, I felt his life energy begin to flow into me. It was a decent amount, and it felt glorious, spreading through my being and reinvigorating me. With it came his thoughts and feelings, at which point I learned he never had actually cheated on his girlfriend before - but, oh, he'd wanted to plenty of times. She barely crossed his mind at the moment. He was too consumed by me to feel much guilt. The only brief concern he had was that he should have used a condom. That was a regret, but it wasn't strong enough for him to stop, not when I felt this good.
I let my cries escalate into small screams and felt him grow closer and closer to coming. My head was getting dangerously close to the headboard, but the roughness of it all was really turning him on. He'd never had the opportunity to just go so wild. Harder and harder he went, thrusting himself in all the way each time. The energy increased by leaps and bounds, and just before the big moment came, I decided to drive home the guilt a little. It made me feel some guilt in return, but at the end of the day, guilt marked the soul, and that was what Hell employed me for.