Rachel's Test

"What?" I stammered, blushing immediately as she smiled even broader at me, "What are you talking about?"

Rachel slid in closer, stepping over to the side of me and glancing at them along with me. And when she spoke she was whispering sweet nothings in my ear like a devil on my shoulder.

"Which one," she repeated, "Would you like to fuck?"

And then, seeing my general horror at the thought of it, she expanded.

"I'm not saying you will or that you have to, doofus, but I'm just saying which one would you choose if you could choose. We could play fuck, marry, kill if you want. I've got ideas and suggestions if you'd prefer that. I can get the ball rolling."

"But why?" I stammered again.

"Because clearly we need to get you out of your shell and this is a part of it. This right here is a step along the way to making you a liberated woman, my dear Emily. It's taking a chance and doing something you don't want to do."

"But fucking them..." I trailed off.

"Isn't realistically going to happen, though you could if you wanted. You could do whatever you wanted, sweetie. But first step to getting there regardless is to start flirting and that's what you're going to do right here and now.

"You're going to pick one of them. You're going to pretend that you're super interested in their club. And then you're going to flirt until you get them to convince you to sign up and then you're going to sign up and you're going to get their number too."

"I am," I replied, incredulous.

Rachel nodded, "You are. You have **** in it. I'm going to sit over here and watch and you're going to get them to fall in love with you."

I stared across the way at them, at the three options. The stoner, the jock, and the cute little artist girl. Each one of them had their own appeal in their own way, but fucking them truly seemed like a step way too far for me.

"But I've never done anything like that before," I blushed harder, both at the thought of doing it and at the confession I'd just made.

"Really?" she replied, sarcastically laying it on real thick for me, "You've never done anything like that before? I'd never have guessed. It's not like your whole being screams out 'never been fucked' with every fiber of yourself but hey that's the point, babe."

I flush and I blink rapidly and I feel my body tense and I can't stop staring at them and I can't stop thinking about that whole phrase about being nervous and picturing an audience in their underwear and that's has a bit of a different context when you're talking about someone who you're supposed to be picking out of a lineup based on their fuckability.

"Calm yourself," she said, "It's really not a big deal and that's kind of the idea. It's just a bit of harmless flirting and I mean I think you've got that in you. You just need to take a chance and you need to realize an ultimate truth here."

"What's that?" I asked, mortified at the thought of what this might be.

"You're hot," she tells me, "You're cute. You're fuckable. Guys check you out. Girls check you out. And when you're as fucking gorgeous as you are flirting is just as much about being present and just showing yourself as open to the possibility as anything else.

"I can almost guarantee that if you so much as go over there and bat your eyes a little and get them to look at you then they'll be falling all over themselves trying to get you into bed.

"That's a bet on your power, darling. And that's an idea that we're going to put to the test."

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