Initiation to mischief

The day seemed to go by slowly after that, as I went about my mundane business, wondering what it was exactly that Riley had in store for me. I was rather excited by the whole situation, since it broke me out of the monotony of the summer this far. I was practically beaming when I walked back in to the Smug Mug. I slowly walked past the booths, peering in each occupied one until I saw Riley. She motioned for me to sit. There were four cups of espresso on a tray in front of her. "Drink up," she said. "A little caffeine will go a long way." I drank the espresso with her, even if a bit more awkwardly. With the coffee drank, Riley placed her hands on the table.

"Here's the deal. I like to be excited. I like to feel adventurous, in danger, all that jazz. We're going to see if you like that too. Cool?" She looked at me intently.

"Yeah, cool," I said, trying to sound confident, but secretly wondering what exactly she had in mind.

"I can tell you're not sure," Riley said quietly. "But if you want to give it a whirl, follow me out the door." She slid to the edge of the bench, and stood up, grabbing a green rucksack that had apparently been on the bench next to her. I slid out and stood up as well, and followed her out the door. We walked down the block, her leading the way, and turned up a side street that went up a fairly steep hill. About halfway up the hill, Riley stepped off the sidewalk into the bushes that lined it, and further still through a break in the hedges just behind them. Behind the hedges was an even steeper hill, up to a parking lot above. I followed her. Within the confines of the tall hedges, Riley turned to address me.

"OK. How do you feel about misdemeanors?" Riley was smiling as she asked me. I stammered out a non-answer. "Well, if you don't want to committ one, you'd best walk away now." She paused. I didn't move. "Good. Put these on." She pulled a pair of latex gloves out of her bag, and handed them to me. As I put them on, she fished out a pair for herself as well. "Follow me," she whispered, after she had put her pair on.

Riley turned and scampered up the steep hillside to the parking lot above. I followed after her, though, being bigger and generally heavier than her, it took me a little longer. Once up top, I met Riley, who was peering at the fence, a six foot high chain link affair. She jerked her head, then scrambled over the top of the fence. After I crested the fence and joined her inside the parking lot, she whispered to me, "this lot is used primarily by the people in that law office over there." She nodded towards a six story building, on the other side of the lot. "That law office makes the majority of its money off of tabacco contracts. So, we're going to decorate their cars for them. Don't worry, I scouted this lot out earlier to make sure there were no cameras - we just have to be careful to avoid any watchmen or passersby."

She pulled a box with two bars of soap out of her rucksack, and handed one of the bars to me. We set about walking around the parking lot, writing things like "I sell cancer to children," and "Corporate whore" on the windows of any vehicle that appeared to be worth more than $40,000, of which there were several. It felt wrong, but it felt good, too, and the nervousness I felt only made me more excited. We ducked in the shadows of vehicles whenever a car drove past on the road nearby, and before long, had tagged all the obviously expensive vehicles. We stealthily hurried back to the chain link fence we had jumped to get in the lot, and climbed out. Riley half walked, half slid down the hillside, back to the hedges, where she collected the soap and the gloves from me and put them in her rucksack.

"Well done, neophyte. Did you enjoy your little act of social rebellion?" Riley was looking at me, grinning broadly, with a strange glint in her eye.

"I did," I returned immedately, still high on the experience, the blood still pounding in my head. Riley kept grinning at me, and I noticed her run tongue along the inside of her upper lip. That was all the warning I had before she grabbed my head with both hands, and planted a large, wet, warm kiss on my mouth. I was too shocked to react at all. Riley pulled one hand off my head, lifted her face just long enough to mutter, "God, this stuff turns me on," then kissed me, again. This time I reacted, kissing back, though she was still in the driver's seat, her small mouth tautly locking on where she willed it too, and eventually pulling away with one final, lingering suck on my lower lip.

Riley turned and started walking away. "Come on," she said quietly, over her shoulder. "Let's get out here, go get high, or something." I hastened to follow.