Plans in Motion

The Narrator's reassuring voice echoed through-out the house: "George Michael decided to interpret his father's advice in a different way, and go find a bottle of something from the liquor cabinet."

You calmoy open up the usually-locked cabinet and slip out a sleek-looking bottle of vodka. You sneak it under your shirt back to your room, where you place it on Lindsay's pillow on her side of the room.

The Narrator: "Later that night, Lindsay returned home from a benefit, still sexually frustrated."

Lindsay stormed in, pushing open the door than slamming it shut. You were already in bed, but certainly not asleep--you were laying with a painful erection trying to hold off and wait for her return.

"I just don't see why all those tree-hugging activists have to be so... Ugly," she sighs to herself before reaching the bed. Assuming you're asleep, she glances at the pillow: "Hello..."

Before long she's unscrewed the cap with a twist of her fingers and is taking that rough Russian on a ride down her throat. She smiles with satisfaction about how just plain... Rich... it takes. Her long, slender blonde body arches up as she stretches out across the bed, kicking off her heels, getting out of that cute beige little jacket-number and down into a bra and panties.

You keep one eye open, stealing nervous glances at her. Unfortunately, she appears to be dozing off. You curse your luck and go to sleep as well, trying to think of a better plan for tommorow. And an explanation to GOB as to where his vodka went.

You expect to awaken to the taunting noises of Lindsay's steamy morning shower. Instead you find yourself slammed into consciousness with a hand over your mouth. It's now the middle of the night. Lindsay crouches next to the bed.

"Before I got in here, your father gave me a talking to, telling me to steer away from you... Normally I wouldn't fuck you, but the fact he doesn't want me to do it makes me sooooo hot."

Before you even open your mouth, she continues: "The walls are so paper-thin in this place that he'd hear us if we had sex in here. That's why we stick to your washroom's shower. The water and noise will cover up our moans and fucking. Sound good?"

"Yes," you say.

She smiles. "And he'll notice if the shower goes on right now... So we wait to tommorow morning..."

"Okay..." you say. She returns to her bed. Holy fuck! How can you sleep now?!