Beats Getting Caught

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Drunk girl gets herself in trouble.
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Hello out there.

This will be the first story I have ever posted anywhere, so I really want to know what you think.

Thank you!

*****

1.

Gotta make it to the window, just to the window and I'm good... my legs just won't do what I want them to! It's frustrating but at least I don't think I've been seen, it's dark and raining; nobody in this apartment building seems to be looking out the window to see me creep and stagger along in the shadows looking guilty as sin. I stumbled and dropped my purse, and I took way, way too long picking my things up.

I never get this drunk, either, but damn it, I was supposed to lose my virginity tonight! And instead, my boyfriend is a douchebag and not my boyfriend anymore, and I drank like fifty gallons of vodka and cranberry juice. My worst birthday ever. After things went bad, I wanted to leave, but I was stuck because everybody was too messed up to drive. Two girls at the party took custody of me and fed me drinks for what felt like hours, until Annie came through and offered to drive me home when she heard what happened. The clock in her car informed me that I had only been drinking for about one hour and as I started to do the math, I realized I didn't have long before the rest of that alcohol came creeping up on me.

I had made my bed and must lie in it, I guess; but getting into bed was going to be pretty hard. I had to climb in the window at the end of the hall and tiptoe to my own room in perfect silence, without waking my parents. I could do that, I thought, but I caught my breath as I pushed back the dizziness that rose and stole my thunder. I had to, didn't I? Couldn't stay out here, that was for sure.

I gulped back my fear and the lingering taste of cranberries, and slid the window open, wide enough to slip in one leg at a time. It was so dark, and I was almost there when my sock caught on a nail and I went sprawling to the floor. I got the wind knocked out of me for a second; I fell right on my face and tore my sock open on the way down, making a high-pitched, smothered squeak when I hit the floor. I caught myself on my hands but I scraped my nose and cheek on the carpet. That's new; why would someone put a nail in my windowsill?

I felt dread like a lump in my belly, growing as I struggled to my knees on the scratchy carpet... carpet... mom hates carpet. We don't have carpet in my apartment. I have made a terrible mistake.

Slowly it washed over me that I was in a lot of trouble. I stared frantically into the dark but I could hardly see anything; then, a blinding light seared my eyes and that's when I heard his quiet, furious voice through the painful brightness.

2.

I just had to pick the ground floor. Nicer living room, but no security bars and hindsight is always 20/20. Now someone was breaking into my house and it was too late for regret. I picked up the nearest heavy object, the Mag-lite in my nightstand and snuck out of my bedroom as quietly as possible, gearing up to have to kick some thug's ass.

My jaw dropped, though, when I got my mind around what was happening in my hallway. I wanted to laugh when I saw her, moving with the unmistakable care of someone just too drunk to know they shouldn't be doing this at all. I saw her long before she noticed me, and had a few minutes to take in the view.

Her long hair was wet from the rain and clinging to her cheeks, streaked wildly across her pretty face and streaming down her bare shoulders. She wore an old t-shirt, cut down to her hourglass curves and slicked down by the rain; cutoffs short enough I almost thought she was wearing nothing at all, and those long, dark socks that end right past the knee. She was too young for me, that's for damn sure, and I would say too young for that hipster-slut outfit too, but the view was nothing to argue with. I saw her snag and fall, and fixed my face in a stern mask. If I was to meet my intruder, I was going to give her a scare.

I flicked on the flashlight and shone it right at her, watching her recoil and cower, shaking like a leaf and moving her mouth like she wanted to speak but not making a sound.

"What the fuck do you think you're doing?" I growled the question at her and watched her eyes get as big as dinner plates. "Why are you in my apartment?"

"I-I-I'm so sorry, Jesusomigod I can't believe I did this I'm so sorry, I don't wanna steal anything," she babbled, terrorized. Her explanations made enough sense. She was definitely wasted enough to make such a mistake.

"Please don't call the cops on me, my folks are gonna kill me if they catch me like this!"

Literally, the girl clasped her hands as she spoke: it was enough to break your heart and it gave me ideas that were far from law-abiding.

"Wrong window, really?" My tone made her flinch. "Okay, what's your name, and where do you live?"

"Tessa-Marie Shipman, and I live in #113 with my parents."

"I think I have seen you around, come to think of it. I didn't recognize you, without your clothes."

That got her. She looked down in shame and put her hands over her face, and her eyes were full of tears when she looked back to me; she nodded, and swallowed hard to keep from hiccuping. I let the smile creep into the corner of my mouth and a little kinder tone in my voice the next time I spoke.

"Tessa-Marie, have you had a rough night?" She mouthed the word yes without making a sound. I sighed wearily, but calmly said, "I tell you what, kid: I'm going to sit you down in my kitchen with a cup of old, microwaved coffee, and you're going to explain to me why you got wasted enough to break into my apartment. Deal?"

She followed me into the kitchen and I pulled a chair into the center of the floor, pointing at it. She sat, and looked at me in quiet alarm as I poured a cup of leftover coffee and stuck it in the microwave, letting the silence get louder and louder until the timer went off.

"Do you go out like this much?" I loaded it up with cream and sugar and handed it to her, watching how carefully and deliberately she took the cup and held it between her hands.

"Not really, I mean, I've snuck out before, but this was the first time it was for a real party, and not just hanging out somewhere. I'm not a big drinker most of the time, I'm in over my head for sure. You're amazing for this, by the way, I don't deserve how nice you're being. It was a really rough night. I feel really stupid."

"You could have ended up a lot worse, kid, a lot worse. I can't let you just climb back out that window, I don't care how many feet it is to your house. You had trouble standing up to come in here." I watched her take a deep sip of the coffee and try to gather herself, and in a few more sips she was telling me about Ray, the boy that started it all.

"We got close over spring break and started dating but we hadn't really got physical yet, and he was pretty cool about it, you know. I thought so, anyway, cause he went and planned this whole party, for me. I forgot that part, huh? It's my birthday, right, and we were gonna have this special, romantic night... he said he wanted our first time together to be just right."

She took a breath and paused, looking at me a little guiltily. No way would she admit this sober, I thought, she's done enough shots of truth serum tonight to say anything. "But when it came down to it, he wouldn't put a condom on when I saw he had this thing on his... you know, and he got all pissed at me when I said he had to. I mean, I just know his ex and she's actually cool, but I know she doesn't make anybody wrap it up and I don't want to deal with that... I'm not crazy, right? He made it seem like the worst thing in the world. He didn't even know about the pill.

"I drank a lot, and way too fast, before his brother's girlfriend drove me home. Before I left I heard him telling someone I couldn't fuck 'cause I came straight from the abortion clinic. I feel stupid for even thinking I would kiss him... " she trailed off into a shudder, and drained the cup. She blinked slowly and thanked me again. "Oh shit." A look of dismay crossed her already dazed-looking face. "I think I ate a weed candy too. Oh, God."

"You don't fuck around, do you little girl?"

I did laugh then, I couldn't help myself. She blinked at me with surprise, and then giggled in defeated agreement, giving a theatrical shrug of her shoulders. I laughed with her for a moment because this situation was absolutely ridiculous; she was this bizarre temptation, sent from the universe to fuck with me, to be near enough to touch and obviously still in high school.

I had soaked up the girl's story and felt like a monster because as she told me her woes I was watching the wet clothes cling and hug her, revealing the rhythmically trembling cleavage of her full, creamy breasts. I leaned back against the kitchen counter and let our fit of giggles wear itself out.

"Tessie, I think you dodged a couple bullets tonight. Do I need to worry about you? Because I'll cover for you this time, but if you're going to keep falling through my window drunk and heartbroken, I might have to tell your parents."

"I swear I'll never sneak out again, and I'll never bother you again, I swear to god. I just want to go to bed and pretend none of this ever happened."

"That's a good girl. I almost can't believe it in that getup, though." I watched that shadow of shame flickered over her face again. "What was the pill? You said you took a pill the boy didn't know about."

Her eyes went wide. "I didn't mean to say that! It isn't drugs, it was... ohh, this is really embarrassing. It was the, um, morning-after pill. I was trying to be really careful."

"Christ, kids these days." I shook my head; I couldn't keep the wry smile off my face.

"I must look awful, and you've gotta think I'm like the biggest whore ever." she whispered "I spent all night wondering how bad the outfit was, because of how people kept looking at me; most of the girls at the party were dressed like this, but it's totally not my usual thing."

"Come sit on the couch; I can give you a blanket and get you warmed up. And happy birthday, by the way." She looked at me so gratefully that I smiled back. "So, how old are you, anyway?" I asked, expecting the answer to be felonious.

"What time is it?"

I was a little surprised at the question, but I pointed to the clock on the microwave. It read 12:35 AM.

"Eighteen," she answered softly, struggling with her hair. I was glad she didn't see my eyes light up, or catch the hungry smile on my face. I took a breath and tried to process this technicality, which made me feel no less evil for wanting to reach out and tear her shirt in half, but made the consequences for doing so a bit less daunting.

"Then you're old enough to know, it's not because you look awful, sweetheart. From a boy like your ex to an old man like me, we think up some scary things when a girl shows up somewhere dressed like you are."

She turned and looked at me again, suddenly afraid. "What do you mean, what kind of things?" And I had to, I had to. I touched her. She shook as my hands slipped around her waist, but she didn't pull away; I felt her breath quicken as one hand roamed lower, thumb slipping into a belt loop in the skimpy cut-offs. I pulled and made her stumble just a little, and let my hand slide further down, cupping her hot little mound through the thin denim.

"I was just thinking about these shorts. I'm your neighbor, you know, I'm a good guy and everything, but all I can think," I let my finger run just under the frayed hem as it arched over her thigh and vanished between her legs, and I let my voice drop down to a growling whisper, "is how easy it would be to turn them into a useless belt. All it would take is a quick little tug and like magic, nothing in the way. And that might be too much, sweetheart. I don't know how good a guy I'd be then, I really don't."

I never dropped her eyes while I said this, I just watched her; her cheeks were burning and her lips quivered. She was afraid, but not like I would have expected her to be. I was expecting her to scream or run or slap me, call me a pig, anything I would expect from a girl in her position, but instead, all she said was, "I don't know your name."

I backed her against the wall and let myself loom over her for a moment, close enough to feel the heat coming off her body; she was a humid climate of rain and perfume and pheromones, and it was irresistible.

"Frank Peterson. Forty-one, divorced, kind of new in town."

"What are you going to do?"

"I'm going to take you into the living room like I said, and we're going to sit down and get to know each other." I tried not to make that sound threatening and I knew I had failed. Still, she walked ahead as I guided her, my hand resting at the small of her back. I stole a look at the curve of her ass, juicy and begging to be cupped and squeezed. I might not be going to jail for this but I was definitely going to hell. It had been a long time, even before the divorce, and I couldn't think past what it would take to get that girl into my bed.

I sat down first and took her by the hand, pulling her down so she sat on my knee; I let her shift to find her own balance and she tumbled against me. She was breathing fast and absently biting her nail.

"Do you think I'm a slut?" Her tone was soft, a real question, not the cutting defensive I would have expected. I groaned a little as her weight pressed against my crotch. It seemed a silly thing to ask in the middle of your own seduction. As much as I was hoping she was, I didn't really think so. I shook my head and slid a hand up her thigh and my other arm around her little waist.

"You're a nice girl, Tessie, it's why I like you right where I can reach you, just like this." I held her close and felt her nestle against me; I slid my fingers under her shorts, over the smooth, smooth skin I found there. I let out a low whistle of astonishment.

"Don't tell me baby, you did this for that stupid boy?" She was completely bare, as far as I could reach.

She was beet red, and her mouth dropped open in shock. "You like it?"

I've seen some variety in women in my time, but hers was the first brazilian I'd got my hands on. Her little pussy was the softest thing I'd ever touched in my life, and I felt my cock stiffen as my hand cupped over it.

"I love it. I'll never let you go now, honey. But we have to get those wet clothes off you, cause you're dripping all over the place."

"What am I gonna wear?"

"I'll find something for you," I lied.

"Well... okay. I don't wanna get your stuff wet."

I couldn't have asked for more.

3.

How did I get here? It was wrong, but it felt so good as he touched me with those firm, patient hands that I had to move, to squirm and twist against him as he reached up with his fingers and rubbed over my silky lips. I got the wax a few days ago and it felt so wicked under my normal clothes that just crossing my legs made me wet.

Maybe I was acting like a slut, maybe it didn't matter, but I leaned my head against him and sighed as his hands slid my shirt up and lifted my arms. He peeled my top off and just looked for a minute, like he couldn't believe what he was seeing.

"Oh, you're in for it now," he growled through a smile.

I really shouldn't be doing this, I thought. He scared me, but why did it feel so good when he put his hands me? He touched me like I belonged to him, like he knew something about me nobody else knew. Maybe he did. He kept looking at me like a starving man looks at food; my outfit can't have helped matters, but nobody ever looked at me like that before. They had gawked and everything, and that was normal, even though it made me really self-conscious. It made me feel silly at the party, but somehow this man devouring me with his eyes made me feel wild.

He took my shirt off, and I was just sitting here in his lap doing nothing to stop him, in the pretty white bra I got just for tonight. It took a second for me to remember he could see right through it, I forgot how sheer and tight the lace was until I saw my own nipples harden after the shirt came off.

He slid one finger into the strap of my bra and said, "It's pretty, baby, but it's got to go. You got my robe all wet. Stand up." I did, taking a step back as he stood up too. He reached forward and undid the button and fly on my shorts in one fluid motion. "No more clothes for you."

My mouth dropped open, and my breath felt short; it felt so real, suddenly, and so terrifying, that I was here, inebriated and alone with my strange neighbor and he was taking off my clothes, and touching me with those knowing fingers... I froze up, and before I knew it he was holding me again. He touched my face and I stopped shaking, and then he kissed me. Like a slow avalanche of passion his lips came down on mine and he crushed me against him. The heat of him just wrapped around me and I couldn't help myself, I wanted him to rip my clothes off.

His tongue snaked into my mouth and I tasted traces of mint and cigarettes as I met it with mine. I moaned as I felt him, hard against my flesh as he pinned me to his body; my heart sped up and my head began to spin, and he drew his face away and smiled.

"Let me see you, girl. Don't be scared."

He looked me over slowly, the first man to see me naked. It was like I could feel his eyes raking over my exposed body and eating me up.

I looked away, and I couldn't find the right way to say it. I had to tell him I was a virgin.

Words just failed me, but I couldn't let him find out on his own.

4.

He sat me down on the couch again and pulled my legs apart; it was a moment before he touched me, he just stared for a while. Drunk as I was, when he threw my legs over his shoulders I didn't pull away. He kissed me on the belly with his scratchy lips and it tickled, so I yelped and wriggled. My limbs flailed, clutching the cushions as he dragged his lips from my navel to the top of my slit, and his hands clasped around my thighs to hold me in place.

I jumped when I felt his tongue, and his grip tightened; the room began to spin again and he was the only thing holding me down. His quick, silky strokes over my clit had me quivering in seconds. I couldn't believe he was doing this to me, never missing a beat he had me naked and gasping, splayed out on his couch. What if I had tried to stop him? He held me in such a way I couldn't move away from his mouth, and he had the access to do anything he wanted. He wouldn't stop, not now... his tongue flicked up and down over my inner lips and finally finding my opening, and finding out with his mouth what I hadn't been able to tell him. I was a virgin, after all, I had an excuse to be shy.

I felt him draw back, but trail his lips up to my clit before he moved up to look me in the eye. "Baby, I don't believe this. You never... " He looked surprised, certainly. For some reason, I was afraid he would be mad at me, but the darkness under his smile was definitely not anger.

"I'm sorry. I meant to tell you... " I moaned as his thumb moved back over my clit and he probed my pussy with his finger. "I can't... talk very well, um, right now."

"I don't think I would have believed you. That you've walked the earth this long and still held on to your cherry, it's like a fucking miracle. Now you're gonna lose it to me."

He undid the knot on his bathrobe and I saw there was nothing underneath; his cock was rock hard and enormous, standing out from his body at a assertive angle. My heart began to pound even harder than it had been, staring down that throbbing monster and the heavy sack that hung below, and I could feel my mouth watering and my pussy dripping as he stroked himself in front of me. He must have known the look on my face.

12