Lola’s Graduation Day

"Sure you do," I shot back. "Just invite me to your next office happy hour and I'll show you who your coworkers really are."

Jesse opened his mouth as if to speak, but said nothing. We sat in silence for a minute, each of us sipping our drinks.

"Well," I said, looking over my shoulder. "I think he's gone."

"Okay," Jesse mumbled. "So you're going, too?"

"Thanks for helping a girl out." I took one last sip of the drink he had bought me and stood up to leave.

"Hey, before you go," he muttered, standing up beside me. We were probably around the same height, but in my heels, I was taller than him by at least an inch.

"What's up?" I said, picking up my purse.

"Would you--could I buy you another drink?" he stammered. "Some other time?"

"Jesse," I smirked, crossing my arms in front of me. "Are you asking me out?"

"Yea," he gulped. "I am."

"I dunno, Jesse." I took a deep breath, the fabric of my top stretching deliciously as my large tits rose in his direction. "You seem like a nice guy, but I'm not sure."

"I am!" he pleaded. "I know I'm... not some cool dude who knows how to pick up girls at a bar, but I'm a good guy."

"You're not a secret asshole, are you, Jesse?" I narrowed my eyes at him. "If you're one of those white guys who thinks Asian girls are easy, just be honest, okay?"

"I'm not! I promise I'm not!"

"Hmm," I sighed, scrutinizing him. "I actually believe you."

"So can I--can I have your number?"

I pursed my lips for a moment. Then, I reached over to the bar and picked up his phone.

"Before I do this, I need to know you aren't the jealous type," I said, holding his phone limply in my had. "I've been with controlling, possessive guys before, and I won't tolerate that from you."

"I'm won't get jealous," he said, staring desperately at the phone as if he could will my fingers to move. "I'm not controlling."

"Good," I said, "because I'm my own person. You don't own me and you never will."

"Of course not," he shook his head violently. "I understand."

"You do?" I asked, cocking my head quizzically. "Are you sure?"

"Yes," he nodded emphatically. "I don't think like that."

"Ooooookay," I shrugged, my fingers beginning to tap the screen. "Then here you go, Jesse."

Jesse beamed as I handed the phone back to him.

"Thank you," he said breathlessly.

"Don't call me," I said, rolling my eyes. "Just text, okay?"

...

It was shocking how quickly Jesse asked me to be his girlfriend.

In another man, this might have been attractive, a show of confidence from a guy who knows what he wants. But when Jesse did it, he could barely look me in the eye, and his body language practically reeked of insecurity. He struck me not as confident or self-assured but as an eager beaver greedy to secure his good fortune.

We were outside a movie theater in Santa Monica when he worked up the nerve to ask.

"You seem sweet, Jesse, but..."

I paused to look him up and down, casting my eyes toward his belt and lingering there. I let him stew in silence for a few delicious seconds as I chose my next words carefully.

"I just don't know if you're... equipped... to be my boyfriend." I gave him a pitying half-smile. "Do you know what I mean?"

"I mean, no, not really," he said dejectedly, frustration and confusion and disappointment evident in his voice.

"Let me see a photo of your ex," I said, gesturing for him to hand me his phone. "I want to see your last girlfriend."

"But--why?" he said, bewildered. "I'm single now."

"Not the point," I muttered, grabbing his phone. "Where is she?"

"Uhh, hold on," he said, taking his phone back and scrolling through old photos. "Here. This is her."

I took the phone from him. On the screen, I saw Jesse sitting next to a small girl on a beige couch. She had a mousy sort of look to her: pale white skin, glasses, brown hair cut into unstylish bangs that were obviously meant to hide her oily forehead. She wasn't ugly by any means, but she struck me as the plainest girl I'd ever seen, someone quiet and forgettable who was destined to act as a background player in the lives of other people.

"What's her name?" I asked.

"Caitlyn," he replied. "We broke up last year."

"Caitlyn," I said, wrinkling my nose as if her name tasted sour on my lips. "Did she break up with you?"

"No, I--I moved to LA for work," he said. "We tried long distance, but it was too hard."

"Did you like dating Caitlyn?" I asked.

"I mean, yeah, I guess," he muttered. "We were together for awhile."

"Then maybe you should try to get her back," I said, handing him back his phone.

"What? Lola, what the hell are you talking about?" he said, puzzled. "I want to be with you!"

"Jesse, honey," I said, looking sideways at him. "If you liked dating Caitlyn, then I don't know if you're going to like dating me."

"Lola, what--can you--I'm really confused," he said, rubbing his temples in frustration. "Please, I like you! I just want you to be my girlfriend, okay?"

"Caitlyn and I are not the same, Jesse," I said slowly. "You get that, right?"

"Of course!" he replied, getting exasperated. "You two are totally different people."

"No, Jesse," I said, matching his tone. "Like, just look at me, okay?"

He lifted his eyes to look at me.

"Now tell me how I'm different from Caitlyn," I said deliberately.

"You're... I dunno, you're from California, and she's from Michigan," he said, casting about blindly for what to say. "You're really into tennis, and she doesn't like sports."

"Physically, Jesse," I said, rolling my eyes. "Physically, how are we different?"

"She's... pretty short. You're taller than her."

"What else?"

"You don't wear glasses."

"What else?"

"You're... half-Asian," he said, obviously uncomfortable.

"Good," I nodded, giving him a tiny morsel of encouragement to continue in the right direction. "Keep going."

"You're... more athletic than her."

"God, Jesse, do I really have to do this? You're making me act like such a bitch," I said in frustration, grabbing his phone impatiently and holding it up next to me. "Look at her. Then look at me."

"I am!" he said, defensively. "What the hell do you want me to say?"

"Who has better skin?" I sighed.

"You do," he said, fidgeting.

"Who has nicer hair?" I turned my head to show him the long, glossy mane of jet black hair that cascaded in waves past my shoulders.

"You do," he sighed.

I took a deep breath.

"Who has bigger boobs?" I asked, the air in my chest pushing my large, full breasts proudly against my top, the stretchy fabric pulling taut in a mouthwatering display.

"Jesus Christ," he said, his eyes drifting down to stare at my chest. "You... you made your point, Lola."

He was clearly flustered by the turn our conversation had taken, but from the way he was leering at my breasts, it was obvious that he was also aroused.

"So, who's hotter, Jesse?" I asked him softly. "Me or Caitlyn?"

"You are, okay?" he said, his voice barely a whisper. "Of course you are!"

"Dating me is not like dating Caitlyn," I said, handing his phone back to him. "I really hate that you're making me be such a bitch, but you need to understand that."

He nodded his head as if he understood, but his movements were hesitant and uncertain.

"You still don't get what this is about, do you?" I said, feeling annoyed.

"Lola, can you just tell me--"

"Jesse, did other guys ever hit on Caitlyn?"

"I don't know," he shrugged. "Maybe."

"But did they ever hit on her in front of you?" I pressed. "Did you ever watch another guy try to fuck her?"

"I... I guess not," he said sheepishly. "I don't remember."

"But do you remember how we met?" I said, teasing it out of him. "Do you remember why I sat next to you at the bar?"

"Because you were trying to get away from some jerk."

"That's right," I nodded. "I was trying to get away from an asshole who thought he could bully me into showing my tits."

Jesse stared at me, his face a mix of concern and confusion.

"I know it makes me sound like a stuck-up bitch, but a lot of guys see a half-Asian girl with a body like mine and just assume that I must be easy or submissive," I sighed. "I have to deal with aggressive guys like that all the time, Jesse. And if you're going to be my boyfriend, then you're going to have to deal with them, too."

Jesse's face, which had been dour and downcast for much of our conversation, suddenly lit up as he realized there was still a chance that I might agree to date him.

"I don't care about that stuff, Lola," he said hurriedly, rushing to dismiss my concerns. "I'm used to dealing with assholes."

"Really?" I said, crossing my arms skeptically.

"I wasn't... cool, growing up," he said. "I've dealt with plenty of bullies. They don't bother me."

"How do you mean?" I asked.

"I just ignore them," he said, trying to reassure me. "All they want is to get a reaction, but if you don't let them get under your skin, they get bored and leave you alone."

"You think that's all they want?" I said incredulously. "A... reaction?"

"Yes," he replied, satisfied with his answer. "And if you don't react, you take away their power."

"So, you just... ignore them?" I asked. "And that really works for you?"

"Believe me," he replied, trying to sound confident but striking a pleading note. "It works."

"So if some guy came up to us right now and started hitting on me, what would you do?"

"I would ask him to leave us alone," Jesse said.

"And what if he didn't?" I shot back. "What if he kept it up?"

"I'd just keep talking to you like he wasn't there," Jesse said. "Eventually, he'd see that we're just going to ignore him and he'd go bother someone else."

"And what if he put his hands on me?" I said, a note of challenge in my voice.

"Then we would leave and go somewhere else," Jesse sighed.

"But Jesse, what if I don't want to leave?" I countered. "What if we're at a party or club and I'm having fun with my friends?"

"I dunno," he shrugged. "I don't really like going to clubs anyway."

"Well, I do," I said firmly. "And my friends do. And if you want to be my boyfriend, then you do, too."

"Okay," he said, backing down instantly. "No problem."

"So if we're at a party and some guy starts trying to dance with me, you need to be able to handle that," I said. "If that happens, are you going to get all jealous and make us leave?"

"No way," he said, shaking his head. "I won't do that."

"But how will you handle it?" I pressed. "What will you do when that happens?"

"I don't know!" he said in irritation. "I've never been in that situation, so how am I supposed to know what I would do?!"

"If you're going to get upset just from talking about this," I muttered, leaning away from him and folding my arms across my chest. "Then there's no way you're going to be able to keep your cool when it actually happens, which it will."

"Lola, I'm sorry, okay?" he said, his tone softening. "I just--I don't know why we're even talking about this!"

"And that's the problem," I pouted, turning away from him.

"Will you please just be my girlfriend, okay?" he said, craning his head to look at me. "I don't know the answers to all of this stuff, but if you give me a chance, I'll figure it all out. I promise I will."

"I just really don't like jealousy, Jesse," I said flatly. "And I hate when guys lie like they're cool about this stuff when secretly they're possessive douchebags."

"I'm not," Jesse pleaded. "I promise I'm not. Please, just give me a chance and I'll prove it."

"Fine," I said softly, uncrossing my arms.

"Really?!" he said, shock and elation rising in his voice. "You'll be my girlfriend?!"

"I'll give you a chance," I said cautiously, turning back towards him. "But that doesn't mean we're going to have sex right away."

"No, no," he said, nodding his head rapidly. "Of course not."

"Guys think I'm easy, but I'm not," I continued. "You say you aren't the jealous type, but I need to see that for myself before I even think about having sex with you."

"Okay," Jesse said. "No problem. I can be patient."

"Good," I said, nodding at him. "Think of this as being on probation. You can introduce me to your friends and people at work as your girlfriend, but I'm still deciding whether I can trust you to be who you say you are."

"But you're my girlfriend," he replied, beaming.

"Sure," I shrugged, brushing my hair back behind my ear. "But that doesn't mean you can go bragging to your friends about fucking me. If I catch you pretending that we've had sex, I can promise you it will never happen in real life."

"I won't, I promise," he said. "But..."

"But what, Jesse?" I sighed.

"Can I... kiss you?" he asked sheepishly. "Since technically, you are my girlfriend now."

I licked my lips as I considered his request, a tiny smile forming at the corners of my lips.

"Close your eyes," I said slyly.

I leaned in, softly pressing my lips against his. As his lips parted, I slowly slipped my tongue into his mouth, gently caressing him from the inside for several seconds. I could feel his heart racing in his chest.

Then, I pulled my mouth away, my nosing grazing his cheek as I moved towards his ear.

"I hope you know what you're getting yourself into," I whisper, breathing into his ear.

...

Two weeks after Jesse asked me to be his girlfriend, I asked him to come up to my apartment after he took me out to dinner.

"So this is your bedroom," he said cheerfully, putting his hand on my shoulder.

We still hadn't had sex yet, and I could tell Jesse thought tonight was going to be the night. And why wouldn't he think that? He knew that my roommates were gone for the evening, and I'd dressed up nicely for him, a tight black tank top hugging my chest, several inches of tan midriff on display above a pair of high-waisted, skin tight jeans. And on my feet? A pair of borrowed Louboutin heels, to accent the look.

"Look, Jesse, there's something I need to talk to you about," I said, shutting the door behind us.

"Okay," he replied warily, a note of worry entering his previously cheery demeanor.

"I know you've been very patient," I said, sitting down on my bed. "And I know it hasn't been easy for you to wait for me."

"It's... fine," he said, scratching his face. "You told me that I would need to be patient."

"The truth is that it's been hard for me, too," I nodded. "If I'm being honest, I really miss having sex."

Immediately, I saw Jesse perk back up. The boy really had no guile whatsoever.

"I probably seem really prude to you," I continued. "But I need you to know that I'm not."

"I don't think that," he said, shaking his head.

"What if I told you..." I began, trailing off. "I dunno if I should say it."

"What? Told me what?" he said eagerly.

"It might change the way you see me," I murmured, looking at him with doe eyes. "You might not want to be my boyfriend anymore."

"That's not going to happen, Lola," he said, putting his hand on my shoulder. "You can tell me."

"What if I told you that I... I really need sex," I said hesitantly, shrugging his hand off my shoulder. "If I told you that I love to get fucked... would you think that I'm a slut?"

"No, no, of course not," he said, rushing to reassure me as eagerness flooded his face. "Lola, are you... saying that you're ready?"

"I want to, Jesse," I sighed, letting my voice ache as I turned away from him. "But I can't. Not yet."

"Oh," he said, deflated. The blood seemed to drain instantly from his entire body.

"But I need a release so badly," I whined, sounding as if I was the one being let down. "Maybe there's something else we can do..."

"Like what?" Jesse said hopefully.

"I know a game that we could play," I said mischievously, turning back towards him.

"What kind of game?" he asked.

"The naked kind," I whispered in his ear.

"Fuck yes," he said, his voice tinged with arousal.

"Go sit in the big chair," I said huskily.

In a flash, Jesse got up and bolt across the room, practically throwing himself into the overstuffed armchair in the corner of my bedroom.

"Close your eyes," I whispered. "I need to get something."

I slipped softly across the room, reached into my dresser, and rummaged about for a minute or two. I saw Jesse smile as he heard the sound of the zipper on my jeans going down.

"Keep your eyes closed while I describe the rules," I purred. "Don't open them until I say so."

"Okay," Jesse said, a shit-eating grin plastered across his face.

"This game," I whispered seductively, "is called the Queen's Guard. Do you know why?"

He shook his head.

"Have you ever seen the guards who stand outside of Buckingham Palace?"

"Yes," he nodded.

"Then you know that no matter what anyone does to distract them, they aren't allowed to move or speak. They have to stay perfectly still and just... watch."

Jesse gulped. I could see the tent starting to form in his pants.

"The Queen's Guard isn't allowed to move. You can't touch me, and you can't touch yourself," I continued, moving closer to him. "And you're not allowed to speak. If I ask you a question, you can nod your head for 'yes' or shake your head for 'no,' but that's it. Do you understand?"

He nodded.

"As long as you follow these rules, then the game can continue," I purred. "The game lasts as long as you do. Understand?"

He nodded again.

"Open your eyes, baby," I whispered.

As soon as Jesse's eyes opened, they began to widen as he took in the scene before him.

When Jesse had closed his eyes a few minutes earlier, I'd been wearing jeans and a tank top. Now, I was standing across the room from him in an oversized night shirt, one shoulder slouched down my arm to reveal a lacy black strap. The hem of the shirt hung down just past the mound of my pussy, and below it, my tanned, toned legs were completely bare all the way down to my Louboutins.

"Oh my god," Jesse said, his mouth hanging open.

"Shh," I said, lifting a finger to my lips. "No talking, baby. If I hear you again, then I'm going to start putting clothes on instead of taking them off."

He nodded frantically. He was trying to stay still, but the tension in his body was obvious. The tent in his pants had grown, although disappointingly, not by very much.

"Good boy," I cooed, beginning to walk towards him. "Just sit there nice and quiet for me, okay?"

I stopped walking just in front of the chair. Slowly, I knelt on the floor and looked up at him.

"Do you want to see what I'm wearing underneath this shirt, baby?"

He nodded, eyes wide.

"If I show you, are you going to lose control?"

He shook his head hard from side to side.

"I don't know if you'll be able to handle it," I said, standing up and turning away from him. "Maybe it's not a good idea."

From behind, I could hear a guttural noise, barely audible but obvious all the same. Jesse was trying to beg without making a sound.

"But you have been such a good boy," I muttered, my voice conflicted. "Maybe you deserve a reward."

With that, I reached down and grabbed the hem of my night shirt, pulling it over my head in a single, fluid motion.

As the nightshirt fell to the floor, I looked over my shoulder at Jesse, whose brain was struggling to subdue any physical reaction to the stimulus before him.

There I stood, looking coyly over my shoulder at him, my silky black hair cascading down the center of my bare back. To the right and left, thin black straps ran parallel to my mane, descending halfway down my back before connecting with the thin, lacy fabric of the black teddy I'd put on.

I watched Jesse's eyes scanning my body desperately, crawling over the twin mounds of my firm, exposed ass, which was framed by a flimsy triangle of fabric that disappeared into the gap between my thighs.