“I’m a journalist” I said, “What about you?” “I’m an artist” she replied, suddenly taking the time to look at my cleavage. I could fee... my pussy aching for her touch by now, and I was pretty sure that she felt the same way about me. She continued to stare at me then said, “So, do you want to come back to my place?” “I do” I said, finishing my drink off. “Good” she said, “When do you want to leave?” “Now” I said, standing up. She agreed and we went to her car, quickly hurrying back to her place.. He didn’t want her to be another notch on his belt-of-fame – as his friends so kindly referred to it as – but rather someone who could potentially be girlfriend material. He didn’t want to risk fucking everything up for a night of alcohol-induced sex. Even in the midst of his pleading with her, she didn’t relent. She knew what she wanted and she was more than determined to get it, even if that meant completely throwing herself at him. “Babe, let’s not do this just yet…” he tried to reason with. More

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