Phone

Your eyes snap open, robbing you of pumping dose after dose of hot, salty goodness down your roommate's throat (even if it is only a dream.) You snarl as you pick up instantly on the annoying chirping of your phone.

"Better not be work..." you growl as you swipe the phone from your night table and let your eyes adjust to the glowing screen. It's a random number, but it appears to be local. Musing on whether or not to answer or what you would say if it turns out to be a prank call, you figure there's no better way to figure out what's going on than to answer it.

"Hello?" you groggily mumble.

"Hey, it's me." It takes your brain a second to catch up to the sound and realize it's Roxanne. It's hard to hear her, something cacophonous and thumping in the background.

"Roxy?"

"Yeah, issss me. How's a' goin'?" She slurs into the phone, barely audible given her surroundings.

"Roxy? Roxy I can barely hear you. Where are you?"

"I dunno. Sssommebar."

"Roxy? Roxy, are you listening to me? Give the phone to the bartender."

"Why?" she drunkenly giggles.

"Now."

You can hear the fumbling as the phone trades off.

"Hello?" a female's voice answers.

"Hi, sorry to bother you. That's my roommate in front of you. Look, I know it's not your job, but I have to ask for a favor."

You ask the bartender to keep an eye on Roxanne as you make your way down to the bar. You give her your name and tell her not to let Roxy go home with anyone else. She gives you directions to the bar, and, very irritated, you get dressed and make your way to the local boozery.

It takes you longer than you'd hoped to find the place, and by the time you get there, the lights are on inside and you can see chairs being flipped and set onto tables. Jumping out of the car you rush inside.

"Is she still here?"

"Oh, it's the guy with the roommate!" says the very attractive blonde bartender. You express your gratitude and try not to look at her long, tone legs poking out of her all-too-tiny jean shorts. You try desperately not to oggle those breasts that outclass even Roxanne's (although they are definitely fake, they are still--simply put--bigger) or the obscene amount of dollars wedged between so much cleavage that her shirt is more of a tasteful joke than clothing.

"She's still here," she reassures you. "She's just in the bathroom, freshening up. She's a lot better now. Been feedin' her water for the past hour."

You stand and make idle chatter with the delectable bartendress. Suddenly, you're not so annoyed at Roxy and wouldn't mind if she wanted to take her time. You've almost forgotten about her until you see her waltz out of the bathroom. Just as suddenly, you're absolutely thrilled that Roxy woke you.

Roxanne likes to occasionally tease men at watering holes by 'slutting-it-up'. Tonight is no different. Roxanne is clad in a slinky red top that's so sheer it's damn near transparent. Competing for how to show off her breasts the most, the skin tight fabric squeezes her breasts together, sending her cleavage nearly spilling over the neckline that reveals the very faintest borders of areola.

Her skirt, equally constrictive, eliminates any hope of an athletic stride. Shorter, confident steps are taken in her red mini skirt that begs you to mentally measure the inches between the hem and the thong she is surely wearing underneath it.

"Here she comes," the bartender says, breaking your gaze. "Well, I guess that's all there is to it. But a little advice? I wouldn't let my girlfriend dress like that if I were you. Sends out all kinds of signals."

"Oh, we're not together," you correct her. "She's just my roommate."

"You're not hitting that? Wow, you really are stupid then, huh?" she teases.

"Believe me, the thought's crossed my mind more than once," you say. You almost can't believe how frank you're being with a total stranger, but the night's events have shot any chance at being civil. Though your current company doesn't seem to mind.

"So you came all this way to get your friend and you aren't getting any? And then you have to wake up to that and she still doesn't give it up?"

"Yep," you sigh. "I may have made a mistake on that count."

"Well, you are a decent guy. Stupid. But decent. And way overdue to get laid, apparently. You need to go find yourself a sweet little thing to help you out with that tiny problem of yours."

"It's not a tiny problem," you say with a sly grin on your face.

"UGH!" Roxy interjects. "Look, thanks for picking me up and everything, but I don't wanna be sick anymore tonight. Three's my limit. So when you two get done fucking each other, I'll be in the car."

You both laugh and both stare lustily after Roxy as she walks out of the car. Even though you can't see it, both you and the bartender lean to watch her ass ripple and shake as she trots in her heels through the door.

You turn and shake the bartender's hand. She says, "Well, looks like that's you cue."

"Yeah. I should probably go. Unless I can help you with anything first?"

She smiles wickedly. "Hmmm...let me think..."