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“Focus, Chloe, focus.”
Scribbling madly with a black pen at the back of the classroom, Chloe was about five paragraphs of the way through her (suitably well-argued) essay on Thackeray, Dickens, and Gaskell, when she recalled having seen a post on social media about a party that Alex De Soto planned to be hosting at his off-campus co-op, and she started to wonder if … she should go. Which was weird, because she hated parties.
Not only that, but she started to wonder if … she should show up to the party … wearing Stephanie’s red vinyl jeans.
What the fuck? Absolutely not! Where did such a colossally stupid idea even come from?
Well, on the other hand … Stephanie’s circle and Alex’s circle didn’t really overlap much at all. It was entirely possible that not a single person there would have known who Stephanie was, or had even seen her wearing those PVC jeans. Besides, the party would be way on the other side of campus … and, you know, it was a pretty big campus …
“Chloe, you’re really losing it,” she thought. “Nope, nope, and double nope.” Wearing them in her bedroom was one thing, but out in public? Stephanie would probably hear about it one way or another, and then the shit would hit the fan. Or maybe … Stephanie would never even know?
“OK, that’s great,” Chloe said to herself, “but what about finishing this fucking essay first, and then entertaining spectacularly moronic ideas about Stephanie’s wardrobe later?” Chloe pushed the thought away through sheer force of will, and tried to focus on the three-part question she needed to at least attempt to try to answer.
An hour later, she burst into her apartment, chucked her backpack onto the floor, and took another look at Alex’s post. No way in hell — out of the question. The mere thought of it made her blush. Everyone would just make fun of her and laugh at her for wearing something so abnormal and out-of-character.
Besides, what if she put them on again, and started floating around the room like she did the other night? Ha, could you imagine? How exactly would that go down? Yet somehow, in her gut, Chloe sensed that, if she did wear them to the party, the “magic” would take on a more subdued, less visibly bizarre quality this time — if it even factored in at all.
She got up off the couch, quietly slipped into Stephanie’s room, glanced at the red trousers that were resting on the dresser, then walked back to the couch.
Her mind began filling with visions of strutting into that party, her legs covered in that shockingly red fabric, the vinyl on her thighs audibly catching against itself with every step, her butt cheeks glistening in the swirling light, the eyes of every boy in the room (and maybe even a few girls?) staring directly at her. She suddenly saw crystal clear images of herself flirting with cute guys, and letting guys rub her pants, unzip her pants, slide their hands into her …
You know what? She just needed to de-stress, that was all. She’d undergone a whole week of cramming, she’d finished her finals, and it was time to find something else to distract her mind with for a couple of days. No Alex’s party, no messing around with Stephanie’s clothes, no crazy bullshit of any kind whatsoever, all right? Feeling like she’d settled the issue once and for all, Chloe sat on the couch and pressed “play” on another episode of The Crown.
“Hey Marco what’s up?”
Marco waved hello as he entered the front door of the spacious co-op, the warmth in the front room contrasting invitingly with the chilly December air outside.
“Hey Sara.” Parties usually weren’t his thing, but oddly, he was really looking forward to this one.
“Not sure I expected to see you here.”
“Not sure I expected to see you here either,” he replied as he hung up his jacket. “How do you know Alex?”
“I don’t, but I know another guy who lives here, he told me to come. And now I don’t see him anywhere! Fuck it, though, at least I know you, right? I wonder who else is going to show up.”
“I heard there were going to be some wild goings-on tonight.”
“Oh you think so?” Was that a hint of sarcasm he detected in her delivery?
Marco knew Sara from the freshman dorms, but they had never really been close friends. Mostly he remembered the time she got extremely drunk and threw up in his roommate’s car. She had long black hair and a nice figure, but he never found her especially attractive. Her eyebrows were unnervingly thin, and her teeth were on the crooked side, but sometimes she would flirt with him a bit, so hey, that was nice. Tonight she was wearing a white long-sleeve button-up blouse over a pair of blue jeans, with her ponytail poking out from underneath a baseball cap. Not quite what he was looking for, but better than nothing.
For reasons that eluded him, Marco had shown up to Alex’s party feeling unusually eager to soak in at least one or two hot girls. He wasn’t typically the horny, aggressive, objectifying casino siteleri type, but maybe it was that comment he’d received from Jon’s girlfriend Jessica a week earlier that had given him some extra confidence.
They’d been hanging out in Jon’s room, and Marco has started singing along to the stereo, doing his best rock star imitation, and Jessica, who was super confident and sexy, flat-out said, “Marco, you’re a catch! Why are you single? You need to meet someone who will play with your penis.” He blushed at her statement, but had ultimately found it encouraging.
He certainly wasn’t like his buddy and fellow newspaper staffer Eric, a nominal “virgin” who had done just about everything else you could do with a girl and yet was constantly obsessing over losing his virginity to that “special someone.” Eric would openly talk about which girls were “fuckable” and which girls were “babes” and he constantly had sex on his mind every waking minute. But that night at Alex’s party, Marco suddenly found himself, for once in his life, in “Eric mode.”
Did he honestly expect to make anything “happen”? Naw. He just wanted to generate at least a little bit of fantasy material that he could use later on while jerking off. But which other girls were going to show up?
Probably Liz was going to be there, the sports editor. He didn’t really have a “crush” on Liz, but she could be sexy at times. He loved that one outfit he’d seen her wear, the denim summer dress with the long-sleeve white top underneath — sort of a “Rachel from Friends” look. He’d thought about that outfit a couple of times when he’d stroked himself. But Liz didn’t quite approach that level of “hotness” he was looking for this evening.
Maybe Claire and Isabel, the Biology girls, would swing by. Claire was such a babe. He loved that little dark red dress she would wear that made her look like a peasant girl from an old Bavarian village, with puffy sleeves and white trimming all over. God. Whenever she wore that dress, he just wanted to lay her down in a grassy meadow, slowly lift up the fabric, and fuck her brains out, while all the birds and woodland creatures looked on in bemusement. She could be really unpredictable though. Kind of high maintenance — but hot.
Isabel was hot too, but in a more subdued way. He liked that one time she was wearing a white polo shirt and a short denim skirt. Oh yeah. He just wanted to slide his hands up those smooth thighs of hers and make her squirm and twitch and … “Marco!” he thought to himself. “What has gotten into you?” Yeah, he’d used Isabel a couple of times recently.
Then there was Stephanie. He knew Stephanie a bit because Jessica was also on the volleyball team. Maybe Stephanie would show up in her red vinyl pants. She wasn’t necessarily that good-looking, but man, whenever she wore those vinyl pants, she just … stood out. It was hard to look away. She had seemed like such a classic “good girl,” and then one day she started wearing those tight, glossy red pants, and … talk about completely subverting expectations. It was the shock factor, really. There was something hot about the “good girl” going “bad,” but only just a little bad.
And because Stephanie was normally so straitlaced and boring, what could have come off as “desperate” or “sleazy” instead came off as tasteful and creative. She would “dress down” the shiny jeans with, say, a white t-shirt or a striped blouse. It suggested a certain intelligence — and intelligence was sexy. What it boiled down to was this: if Stephanie was willing to wear that, then what else was she willing to do? She probably fucked like a maniac. He’d never fantasized about her before then, but after she wore those red vinyl pants, he definitely rubbed a few out while thinking about her.
Sometimes with women, attitude was everything. For example, Marco had to concede that Stephanie’s roommate Chloe, whom he knew mainly from his Victorian Lit class, was actually more naturally pretty than Stephanie — “nerdy cute,” if you will. She seemed to share his dry sense of humor, and passion for books, but … he never fantasized about Chloe like he did Stephanie. True, sometimes they would get a bit flirty with each other, but in general, Chloe just didn’t put out that kind of energy — although perhaps the potential was there.
At any rate. Here he was, and so far the only girls he’d spotted were Sara and a couple of other, presumably freshman, females he didn’t recognize. He kept his eye out.
And what a weird building to find oneself in! The co-op that Alex lived in was sort of like a “frat house” that wasn’t really a frat house, an “apartment building” that wasn’t really an apartment building. About 20 people lived there, but when you walked around, there were all these hidden little rooms with couches and kitchenettes and things like that. A fella could get lost in this place if he wasn’t careful.
Suddenly, Marco saw Alex stride out of the hallway and head toward him and Sara.
“I know slot oyna these parties aren’t really your thing,” Alex said, “but I just want to say, I appreciate a man stepping out of his comfort zone.”
“Am I supposed to feel … honored?”
“Seriously, lookin’ sharp.” To be fair, Marco was dressed more stylishly than usual, wearing a blue short-sleeve sweater-type shirt with little vertical ridges in it, and some black slacks. “We gonna see you out on the dance floor tonight?”
“Yeah, I dunno…”
“Sounds like a ‘yes’ to me!” Then Alex talked some business. “So I was up last night still working on the story about the Engineering dean.”
“Wasn’t Eric going to help you with that?”
“Yeah, but he headed back to his parents’ a bit early.”
“I mean, we don’t really have all the facts on this.”
“Yep, yep. There’s such a tendency to rush to judgement — especially these days, you know?” Right about then, as Marco had expected, Liz entered the room. Alex punched Marco gently on the arm and scooted off to say hello to her. She was dressed in a dark green short-sleeve velvet dress and heels, her curly light brown hair pinned up over her head. So far, she came the closest to fitting the bill, but he still held out hope for a girl who would serve as some serious eye candy.
Sara turned to Marco. “You on the staff at the Bulletin?”
“Yeah, you’ve probably seen my name in there — Assistant Editor.”
“Hate to break it to you, but I don’t really read it.”
Just then, Marco noticed a bright red glimmer in the corner of his eye. He turned toward the front door and saw Chloe walk in, wearing a puffy brown winter jacket, and what appeared to be … wait a minute. Weren’t those … Stephanie’s red vinyl jeans?
“I mean, maybe if I’m stuck in the library and there’s a copy around or something,” added Sara.
Marco glanced again and observed Chloe as she slowly removed, and then hung up, her brown jacket. With the coat off, Marco could now see that she was wearing a snug black ringer tee that featured a glossy “space-themed” illustration across the chest, tucked tightly into the waist of her jeans, which were circumnavigated by a black leather belt. The shiny drawing on the shirt consisted of cartoonish renderings of Jupiter, Saturn, the moon, and a rocket ship, in a mixture of blue, yellow, and orange shades. The white rings on the sleeves and neckline contrasted sharply with the black cotton surrounding them.
The legs of the jeans stopped just above Chloe’s small black leather boots, leaving no skin on her calf visible. A gold clip rested in her hair, on the right side, which, along with her usual black-rimmed glasses, lent her face a slightly sweet, girl-next-door quality that contrasted beguilingly with the rest of her outfit.
Marco didn’t know the why, how, when, or where, but he knew one thing: tonight was going to be a good night.
Alex turned toward the door. “Hey Chloe! Was wondering if you were going to make it.”
As she strolled over to Alex, Marco came to a quick conclusion: if those really were Stephanie’s red vinyl jeans, well … they looked even better on Chloe than they did on Stephanie.
His classmate’s unexpected entrance had caused him to almost entirely forget about his conversation with Sara, who seemed, with suitable grace, to sense his mental retreat. “I’m gonna go grab a drink,” she stated, patting him lightly on the arm as she stepped away.
As Chloe wandered around the room, Marco’s eyes continued to stare incredulously. Come to think of it, hadn’t he seen Stephanie wearing that same exact ringer tee as well? Had Chloe just, like, raided her roommate’s wardrobe or something? If so, she wasn’t about to get any complaints from him. Chloe’s breasts, which were slightly larger than Stephanie’s, stretched the slick, painted graphic on the noticeably tight shirt even more than Stephanie’s did.
Time to admit it: Chloe had gone from nerdy cute … to nerdy hot.
After a few minutes of contemplating the perfect wellspring of future fantasy material before him, he wandered across the room to grab a beer. Another friend of his, Sean Nguyen, came towards him, followed by the one and only Chloe.
“Marco! Give it up!” Sean shouted with a laugh, hi-fiving him as he passed.
“Hey Marco,” Chloe said with an inviting smile. Then she proceeded to drag her hand down his soft blue shirt for a few seconds as she walked by.
Oh yeah. Tonight was going to be a very good night.
A few minutes later, he noticed Sara sitting on a couch. Beer in hand, he walked over and sat down right next to her. As she continued to lean against him and poke him on the arm, every so often he would glance over at Chloe, and think about all the terrific material he would have for later.
It was funny — of course she looked different, and yet, not radically different. She’d applied just a bit more make-up on her face than he’d usually seen her wear, but not too much more. canlı casino siteleri It wasn’t some unfathomable leap or complete physical reinvention into sex kitten territory, but just a few slight tweaks had somehow made quite a difference. Well, time to milk his good fortune for all it was worth.
As she sauntered around the room, every so often he spotted her tugging the waist of the trousers upward, as if she were quietly reminding herself of what she was wearing. Hummina hummina. He almost wanted to head into the bathroom right then and there and wank off at the party. Marco observed Chloe talking to a few other guys, and yet, she didn’t seem to give them quite the same look she’d given him. What was that all about?
Led Zeppelin’s “Kashmir” came on the stereo. “Ooh, I love this song!” Sara exclaimed. “This is … oh God, it’s on the tip of my tongue.”
“Led Zeppelin,” Marco replied with a slight hint of condescension.
“That’s it! I mostly know that one album, you know, with the hermit with the bundle of twigs on his back on the cover?”
“Yeah, that one.”
“Well, people say that’s their best album,” Marco argued, “but I think the one before it is my favorite.”
“What songs are on that?”
“You know ‘Immigrant Song,’ and …”
Just at that moment, Marco suddenly found a gloriously red PVC crotch resting immediately in front of his face. Chloe had wandered over to the couch.
“What are you guys talking about?” she asked him coyly.
“Led Zeppelin,” Sara explained.
“What about ’em?” God. Marco couldn’t even lift his neck to look at Chloe’s face when she spoke. “Go on.”
He tried to recall what he had even been talking about. “Well, I was just saying that I kinda prefer Zeppelin III to Zeppelin IV.”
“Love both of ’em, but my favorite is II,” Chloe said.
“Yeah, that’s a good one.”
Chloe then took this opportunity to sit right next to Marco on the empty side of the couch, the slick material sliding freely against his slacks. “I mean, ‘Whole Lotta Love,’ ‘Ramble On,’ ‘What Is and What Should Never Be’ … do I look like an idiot to you?”
“Good arguments, good arguments all.” Damn, the girl knew her shit. But how was he supposed to concentrate on discussing the finer merits of the Led Zeppelin catalog with this radiant red vinyl vixen sitting right next to him the whole time? Hell, he just wanted to reach his left hand over to her jeans and just feel around. Chloe almost looked like she wouldn’t have minded if he’d done just that. “Uh … What about this album?”
“Is this on Physical Graffiti? Never actually listened to it all the way through, I don’t think.”
“Really. You should check it out.”
Just then, Alex came by, and Chloe waved her arm to catch his attention. “Hey Alex, I wanted to ask you something!” She swiftly stood up and chased after him.
“Oh yeah. About the paper, right?”
Marco gaped in awe at her tight, fire engine red buttocks as it swiveled away, then he turned to chat with Sara a bit more. Guess it would have been asking too much to expect the superbabe of the evening to sit next to him for any longer than that, right?
About ten minutes later, several of his fellow revelers gathered in the center of the room and formed a small dance floor. Only when “California Love” came on did Chloe suddenly appear, swaying back and forth next to a couple of other guys Marco didn’t know, raising her arms in the air, sliding her hands down her shirt and her waist, occasionally brushing her brown hair back from her cheeks, her eyes virtually closed, dancing for no one in particular, like she was privately basking in her newfound sex appeal.
Marco sat on the couch and soaked in the show, admiring this girl whose entire outfit popped with so much color and style, only briefly looking around to confirm what he suspected, which was that at least three or four other guys were shamelessly staring at Chloe’s lower half and probably thinking the same exact thing he was thinking: “That girl is hot.”
Forget about enough jerk-off material for a week; this was enough jerk-off material for an entire year. And yet, some of the other men in the room didn’t even seem to notice her. Were they half-dead inside?? Marco must have had some kind of vinyl fetish — or maybe just a Chloe fetish.
After a couple more songs, Chloe sat back down and took a rest. Santana’s “Oye Como Va” suddenly came on, and for reasons he failed to comprehend, the calls for Marco to dance grew increasingly intense.
“Marco, come on!” Alex shouted as he twirled Liz around in the middle of the room.
“Naw, I dunno.”
“What’s the matter?”
Then Chloe spoke up. “Come on Marco, let’s see what you got!”
Well, that was enough for him. He moved toward Alex and Liz and started improvising some moves, Liz rubbing her velvety shoulders and butt against him as he did his thing. He glanced over at Chloe, who was now leaning against the wall with her thumbs resting in the front pockets of her jeans, giving him that “look.” He kept on dancing, trying not to think about it too much, or do anything too stupid. But flirtatious vibes were in the air, coming at him from all directions.
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