Michelle's Jar

There’s no doubt in your mind that Michelle should be the one to receive all your tickets. The way that negligee hugs her skin, so close to baring it all, is persuasive as any argument gets.

“As you know, we’ll be drawing five names from each raffle jar, and each sorority sister will get the chance to pick which of those five lucky guys she wants to take upstairs with her,” Savannah announces into the megaphone.

After the guys for Tatiana’s jar are drawn and she makes a seemingly arbitrary pick between the five studs before her, Savannah calls down Michelle. She walks down the steps with dainty grace, surveying all of you men with a haughty look. You get the feeling that, were it not for her sorority obligations, she wouldn’t be here at all.

Savannah sticks her hand in the jar, shuffling up all the raffle tickets in there, and pulls out five tickets. Lifting her megaphone up, she calls out the names: “Winning the draw for Michelle, here are your five lucky guys! Please step up to the staircase Walt Goldwasser, Jim Williams, Stewart Haynes, Gavin Rich, and Alex Knight!”

Your sigh of relief stands in contrast to the murmurs of discontentment as, inevitably, most of the men lose the raffle. Even with your fistful of tickets, you weren’t sure that your name would be called. You make your way up to the bottom of the staircase, standing shoulder to shoulder with the four other men who were called up. They’re good looking guys, well-groomed and reasonably stylish. You send a silent prayer to the Lord above. To come so far and not be picked would be cruel.

Michelle folds her arms over her bust as she looks at the assembled guys. She does not seem impressed. The seconds tick by as she looks at each of you. What is she considering?

“Michelle is taking her sweet time with the guys,” Savannah narrates into her megaphone. “What’s caught her eye? Is it Walt’s cool hairdo? Jim’s roguish charm? Stewart’s clean style? Gavin’s schmancy watch? Or—”

“Come with me, Alex,” Michelle says, extending her hand towards you.

The other men all turn to look at you, jealousy flashing through their eyes. You wordlessly accept her hand and follow her up the steps to the promised land.

The room Michelle takes you to isn’t hers. In fact, it isn’t anybody’s. It’s a barebones bedroom kept by the sorority sisters for events just like this: a place to get intimate without fear of bringing any baggage in.

As soon as the doors close, Michelle drops her shoulders.

“Fuck, that was too close,” she says. “I don’t know why I do this.” She sits down on the bed, putting her head in her hands. You sit down next to her, putting an arm around her, and make a concerned sound. She looks up at you, her dark green eyes softening. “I’m so glad your name was called, Alex. God knows what I would have done if you were all strangers.”

“That bad, huh,” you say quietly.

“There’s no way I could have done that with any of them,” she shivers, and then she leans closer into you.

You instinctively hug her tighter.

“It would have been fine,” you say, doing your best to reassure her.

“No. It wouldn’t have,” she says, and you’re shocked by the hard edge in her voice. “You know what this fundraiser’s about, right? You know what was promised. That’s why you bought all those tickets, right? Come on. You’re not innocent.”

Those biting words shock you. You’re not sure you know exactly what’s up, but you have an inkling. You could try to push back against her, except… something tells you that staying your hand will work out better.

“Look, we don’t have to do any of that, you know that,” you say, giving her shoulder a gentle pat. “We can just sit here together for a bit and walk out the room. Nobody out there’s going to know.”

Michelle looks at you with disbelief.

“So why did you pick me?”

“Because you’re cute, and from everything I’ve seen in lab, you seem pretty cool, too,” you say. “I thought it would be cool to hang out with you. You know, see where things might go…”

“Yeah, so same story as every other guy,” she says, although a hint of a smile cracks through her face.

You smile and give her forehead a quick peck, saying: “Sure thing.”

“It helps that you’re such a damn charmer,” Michelle sighs.

“Helps what?” you ask.

But you’ve already noticed the way that she’s leaned in closer to your chest, her head tilted upwards. You’ve noticed the way she eyes your lips, and like two celestial bodies in the aether, your faces drift towards one another in a heartachingly slow fashion, the heat of her breath blooming on your cheeks, your exhalation coloring hers, until your lips connect and her eyes flutter shut. You hold her tight against you as you kiss her, trying to convey the message that all is well to her. Her fingers grip your shirt so tight you’re scared she’ll tear it right off. Maybe that wouldn’t be such a bad thing, except that it might freak her out. It doesn’t matter. You’re kissing Michelle, the heat and slow emotions inside of you stirring up the urge to make sure that she makes it out of this room alright, no matter what you have to do.

Eventually, the kiss breaks. Michelle blinks, her dark green eyes lost in a world outside of yours.

“You’re a good kisser,” she says, a truer smile slipping onto her face.

“So are you,” you say. “I could go for more.”

You lean down and she eagerly meets you, kissing you with more **** this time around. You trace your fingers around her collar, the simple contact of skin on skin sending a shiver down her spine. With her in this negligee, it would be so easy for you to reach down and get a feel of her forbidden fruits. But you stay your hand, resting a hand on her neck, pulling her into another kiss, savoring the feeling of her lips against yours. She is a good kisser.

“Wow,” she says, backing off from you, blinking as the kiss ends. “That was… good.”

“There’s more where that came from,” you say. And then, thinking that you can push your luck a little: “And it doesn’t even have to be on this set of lips.”

You reach out and brush her face. She lets your fingers play across her face for a moment before she replies, her clouded thoughts taking their time to surface.

{if Michelle > 79} “Maybe I want you to show me,” she whispers. “Just… take it slow.” {else} “Thank you, but not… not tonight. It’s probably better if I have some time alone now,” she says. {endif}

“Whatever the lady wishes,” you smile.

Michelle +25