Ask her out. Maybe to a movie?

Remembering what you got up to last night with her, your arousal builds. Jane may have just jacked you off, but you had crazy sex yesterday. Even the idea of seeing Pearl again is getting you hard.

You text a quick reply.

You: Want to go downtown? We could catch a movie or look at stores or something. (Now)

A minute later, your phone buzzes with Pearl's response. It's prefaced by a thumbs up emoji.

Pearl: Pick me up in ten minutes.

Your heart skips a beat. Your fingers fly over the buttons as you tug on one of your nicer pairs of jeans and a button up shirt.

You: OMW

You're out the door before you even hit sen. You finish buttoning up your shirt on the driveway, hop into your rusty green truck, and take off.

--

Speed limits mean nothing on your way to Pearl's house. Thankfully it's only a couple neighborhoods over - you used to bike back and forth to hang out before you got your driver's licenses Sophomore year, and you got the keys to your dad's old truck.

You text Pearl as you're pulling up.

You: Here.

She texts back instantly.

Pearl: Okay

Half a minute later, Pearl slips out the front door and does a running tip-toe to your car. There's nothing stealthy about her departure in broad daylight, but maybe it's the thought that counts?

She wrenches open the passenger side door, throws herself into the car, and waves you forward with a serious face. "Drive."

With your eyes stuck on your longtime curvy goth friend you totally slept with last night, you put the pedal to the metal to get out of sight of Pearl's house. There's no need for explanation. One look at Pearl is all you need to understand her desire to avoid her mom and sister.

Pearl pulls out the seat belt and secures it in one swift motion. The strap cuts into her shirt between her large, very wobbly tits.

"Holy shit," you say, trying to wager a 50% checking the road, 50% checking out Pearl ratio higher and higher into Pearl territory without crashing into a tree.

Pearl catches your eye and arches an eyebrow. "What's up?" she asks innocuously, her tone cool.

Beside you, Pearl settles into the passenger side seat wearing a canvas sneakers, matching black knee socks, and an big black Sabaton Great War t-shirt with a WWI battlescape on the front (you went to that concert with Pearl the year you met her, you remember her buying it even).

The way the seatbelt hugs her chest, it's clear she's braless. And the space between her socks end and the hem of her shirt begins is all Pearl's pale, soft, upper thigh. With her sitting, too, the shirt rides up even further - it definitely wasn't meant to be worn as a dress. Stretching, it barely makes it down around the curve of her ass when seated, leaving her skin almost to the hip exposed.

"You can quit drooling anytime," says Pearl, smirking as she primly fixes the hem of her shirt, without actually pulling it any lower.

You overcome shock and manage to avoid beaching the car on a suburban lawn. Your mouth is dry, and your jeans are tight. "You look good," you say lamely.

Pearl preens at the compliment. "Thanks. I wanted to go with something cool and edgy for our date," she says, sounding very pleased with herself. "I'm not even wearing underwear right now. Check it out."

Before you can question Pearl about her use of the word date, she scoots forward an inch and hikes up her shirt to demonstrate her complete lack of panties. You see a flash of skin from thigh to waist, Pearl's wide, soft hips stealing the show (and your breath).

Coyly, Pearl drops her shirt back down and smooths it out. It doesn't quite cover as much as it did a second ago - she now sits bare-assed on the seat next to you.

"You can't go out like that. The cops will kill you," you say, reflexively.

Pearl scoffs. "Dude, chill. It's my outfit, not yours," she says. "Plus you've got your bullshit claiming powers. You could just claim jurisdiction if it's a problem, which it's not. Don't tell me you think I look bad."

"You look hot," you say. "That's not the problem."

You can't imagine the scene you'll make having Pearl with you out in town dressed as she is. It turns you on, but it makes your stomach turn with nervousness. Everybody's going to be looking at her, aren't they??

"There is no problem, Chase," says Pearl, rolling her eyes. "I look badass."

"And you're half naked," you say, shaking your head in disbelief. Practically half naked, anyway. Which yes, is awesome, but still...!

"I happen to like how I look, dumbass," she says. "Girls showing some skin is cool. I'm an adult now, I can wear whatever the fuck I want. And, well, after last night, I want you to see who I really am. I want you to see my true self. Now give me a damn compliment already."

You recognize some of the wording Pearl uses. It's eerily familiar. Shit - last night you claimed and changed her clothing preferences, to get her to dress up all slutty for you. You weren't really thinking this far ahead, but it stuck. All of it stuck. What did you even say to her?

Okay, it's okay. You can fix this later. Right now you have more pressing problems. Namely the evil eye Pearl's burning into the side of your head.

"Fine, you look stupidly hot, Pearl," you say. "I've never seen a girl so goddamn beautiful so close to me in my entire life." Your jeans strain at the truth of the statement. God this is crazy.

Pearl gives a big smile. "Thanks." She relaxes happily back into her seat, and looks to the road.

You're still deep in suburbia.

"So where to?" she asks.

After seeing Pearl's outfit (more accurately, what's under her outfit) you forgot all about why you ostensibly picked your friend up in the first place. It's hard to even think straight with Pearl so available and half naked beside you.