Over the Top

When I thought of writing this story I wanted to try to set a couple of goals. Write a story in two genders, believable in both. To have it be erotic but without "on screen sex." Just though emotion, actions and setting only.

There are only three main characters, two female and one male. The narrative is done only by one female "XX" Melisa, and one male "XY" Mark. So the breaks in the narrative are labeled XX or XY how else. The second female character is defined only by the narrative of the other two, plus a little direct dialogue late in the story. (Writer comments) aren't many but indicated as such.

The leader intro to the story is "Love at First Sight, Twice?" I've tried to ask the questions. Love at first sight, what's it like? How young can it happen? Can it evolve as we grow?

The story title is on purpose, a lot of this story is Over the Top, larger than life, tongue in cheek and meant to be, characters, scenes, villains, Over the Top and all in fun. All characters within are purely products of my imagination and are well over the age of 18.

This is my first story submission to Lit. Many thanks to the Literotica Editor Program and many special thanks to GaleneGia for her intelligent help in editing. But as we all do I've added some last minute changes so any errors are mine, and I'm keeping them too.

xx

My friend Janey wanted me to go out to this sports bar with her, where all the "dudes are fine". Why do we never get out of high school? I mean here we are in our mid to late 20's successful independent business women and its still guys, dude's or whatever is short for men on this day. If you listen to the guys, its chicks'- gals'- ho's- or babes'. It's like we stopped when we were fourteen. Plus Janey and I, BFF's. I don't mean that we're not. We've known each other since the 4^th grade, Miss Stillman's class. But BFF_WTF_OMG and don't get me talking about texting or sexting. It just feels like well... I stopped. I mean how, high school, we're cruising a sports bar looking for "dudes that are fine". Oh well ... shit. I think I'm disgusted with myself.

Janey and I really are best friends since 4^th grade and on. But look at what we did today. I dressed Janey and she dressed me. NO get your mind out of the gutter. It's no licky, licky, moan moan, heaving breasts and panting. She usually went to my closet and got my "hot" clothes. I went to hers and assembled a look for her. There really is a reason for that. I'm always little black dress, tailored slacks, soft jeans and silk blouse. Now Janey... micro minis, halter top, painted on jeans and bra-less wife beater. Get the picture, opposites that need a little help centering. How "high school," but we even more those twin's apart. My white wine and her Jagger. My calm centered approach to...reading! Her slap you upside the head, screams in your face, blast you off center view on life. It really works for us. More on that later.

Dressing...ah, I think we did good!

Like I said, Janey can go...a little to the slut side of things, oh...ok, a lot to that side. I mean like last Christmas party. I had to meet her there so I knew it was going to be, scary. Picture this gold lam'e string top. Strings in the back, small loose kerchief in the front, don't bend over. 12 inch black micro mini. Black thong, you didn't have to bend over to see the thong, just lean. Wide patent leather belt, almost as wide as the mini. Plus 5 inch open toe lace up gold CFM's. I know, it sounds bad, cliché, oh so cliché. God, the thing of it is that not only can she make this work, the smoke hasn't cleared from last year, people still talk and not badly of her. When she went to get a drink at the bar. You DO NOT let someone get your drink for you. Mama always told you not to take candy from a stranger and it's even scarier today. But back to Janey. To the bar it was, Janey the choo-choo and the little tuxedo rail cars, all in a line. Janey is...sssss!! Add about 5 to 10 pounds on a pro beach volleyball player body, just in the right places. Plus she is...tomboy tall. Her green eyes are the color of grass, no shit! Bright grass green with gold flecks, blond hair down to there, yes down to her... So now did I dress her? Remember this is a sports bar. Black 5 inch heels, why does SHE always need heels?? She always has her heels or sandals or boots, shit kicking, steel toed or otherwise. Dressed up where the "dudes are fine" HEELS.

Sports bar right? Soft washed light blue jeans. Ladder tears on the knees and the cheek of one butt, one front pocket, no panties. SHE wanted my shear white silk blouse no bra! I said no not only no but hell no. You could see why not, and other things too. What she got was a shear soft BLACK, button to the neck, blouse, no bra. Janey is a little smaller topside than me so the bra-less ultra-lite aspect of the blouse moved...very nicely. Blond hair down to there, loosely combed back. Sharp, causal, hot... Janey.

Another thing I love about Janey is her totally satirical sense of humor. Some things that will just bust her up, go right over the head of most people. Things she thinks are hilarious most people will look at and go WTF (oops I didn't mean that). Plus she's a master at role play. In this case she dressed me up as a total comment with a wicked sense of...who knows. A complete 1950's pin-up girl, sun dress, and bobby-pinned hair and all. I didn't know what was going on, I asked about Halloween, it's not. It's a mid-week baseball summer evening. Janey went shopping for me, why?

I know we have this pact, that when we go out. So we don't embarrass each other. One dresses the other, but a 50's pin-up girl?? When I asked her what was so special about tonight, she got this real funny look behind her eyes.

Then said "I don't know, but it's... important" and grinned.

Then looked down and repeated "I don't know" softly.

Our pact, you remember last Christmas and the little Janey choo-choo? "I" can really get in the Christmas spirit, really in. You also remember that I had to meet her there, scary. At the last minute, I found the perfect outfit for the party. Red velvet A-line skirt with white fur trim. With a red silk bustier white fur trimmed and the most adorable red velvet Santa hat you ever saw. She almost bitch slapped me, was she mad OMG (oops). She was so mad, but she said that the mistletoe earrings' were WAY over the top. She wouldn't even let me sit with her until she had about 4 shots, Jagger of course. Last Christmas was just reinforcement of our pact. So when the 50's pin-up girl appeared and the knowledge the night was 'important'... Well, OK, I guess it's about trust. She brought out the box with the dress in it, flat box high-end department store, tissue wrapped like a present, WOW.

The dress, IT WAS NOT QUITE RED RED, not quite. It was not orange either, or copper. Not as dark as maroon just a real, special color, like the forecast for tonight, 'important'. It had this endless black line that swirled randomly all the way though the dress top and bottom. What there was of the top, no back, and string-type halter style. Did I tell you I'm a little bigger topside than Janey, no bra...well OK, I guess, at least it wasn't polka-dots! White flats too, 50's pin-up all the way. Janey has to have heels, I'm 5'1...flats. You have to remember Janey and I met in the 4^th grade just two little girls all elbows and knees , according to my dad that is. We did not plan this Mutt and Jeff, ying and yang thing. It just is, like Janey and I. Grass green eyes blond hair down to there Janey. I, Missy, oh yah, Melisa, raven dark hair, porcelain white skin. Sun block companies get rich off me. Janey calls my eyes, blue ice, not blue, not gray; I think they're weird like a husky dog. Can we spell petite, JCPenny's little girl shop, Victoria Secret lingerie, a little bigger topside remember? The trend now is to shave from the neck line south. Don't have any never did, I save on razor blades. Always been Missy and Janey that y-thing young girls get with giggles and secret languages. We met at school first day, at first sight. We weren't born together, didn't live next door or across the street, had no life changing event together. Just, were, always Janey and Missy, Missy and Janey. One day not, next day were. That's what makes part of this that happened so fuckin' amazing.

Did I mention that things just really worked for us? Ying against yang, little bit and raven dark on the shoulders or tom-boy tall, blond down to there. BOY FRIENDS...We needed a little more than help centering... OMG (oops I didn't mean to use that).

Driving back home one afternoon Janey wants a drink! Of course when she wants a drink and she is the one driving, then she gets to choose where. Weathered barn wood, broken neon sign, roadside...whatever. Equal choice of 4x4 pick-ups or Harleys and one not so 4x4 coupe, Honda, ours. But it is Janey's choice, so in we go. Dark... one pool table and long bar. A few small tables with wooden chairs. I thought I saw a spittoon and a brass foot rail, but maybe not. What Janey saw was this GUY, 6 ft plus-plus-plus. Wide as a tree trunk, zero percent body fat. Radar eyes that locked on to Janey like a NASA moon shot. He just had to buy US lovely ladies a drink. I could have been Big Butt Bertha or Bettie Boobies he didn't know or care. Radar was in, Lock on mode, and Set.

There might have been a couple of other people in the dark, I didn't look. The minute radar eyes locked on Janey I knew we had trouble, big trouble. Janey is a bad boy girl, catnip, cotton candy, rolls in the clover, bad boy girl. She has NO willpower in this. The bigger, the badder, the better. It's just a bigger bag of catnip to Janey. This guy was over the top bad. Black leather vest, no shirt and black-leather-pants, I'm not too sure. Boots, oh yes, big black, or maybe gray boots? I couldn't tell. Maybe too filthy, I couldn't tell on his tan either. Sun, dust, motorcycle grease or a combination of all. Did I mention his hair care products by bacon grease and the cute rolled up kerchief head band. Okay maybe the bacon grease was a stretch but remember the white wine girl, try warm beer and pork rinds.

Sadly he and Janey were in a reality free bubble. Nothing can penetrate the enchantment. I wasn't listening to them talk, I was trying to think. This 5ft 1 petite little bit needs to get in front of this train wreck. Hopefully with a red flag and no rail road tracks on my butt. But not listening to them talk is what bit said butt. The next thing I see is the GUY and Janey heading for the door, still in the reality free zone. As I make it to the door, the GUY is on a Harley waiting as Janey gets ready to throw a leg over the rear seat. Oh...shit, I'm out of time if she gets on that seat, it's over, and Janey has the car keys, plus she'll be ...GONE!! I don't think, just react, and these little porcelain fingers grab that blond down to there hair and try to hold on.

Janey falls on her ass, I'm on my knees in the parking lot. Talking at Janey as fast as I can draw breath. What's your mom going to think? Your dad will get his shotgun. Is this example for your little sister (she doesn't have one). You cat's going to hiss at him, the dog will piss on his foot and your roses will wilt... ANYTHING. As Janey turns those grass green eyes to me, no gold flecks, nobody's home! Oh...shit. Janeeeey, you can't leave me here. Janeeeey, please don't leave me here. You have the keys. Don't leave me all ...ALOOONE! I hear the sound of my own voice and I can't believe I'm wailing!!

As Janey turns from the GUY to look at me again, she looks at ME. I can see the gold shine start to come back in her eyes. She looks at little bit me, elbows and knees on the parking lot ass in the air, dirty, with two handfuls of her hair. She starts to giggle. Hides her mouth behind her hand and giggles. Points her finger at my little skirt and panties' covered butt pointed up in the air and laughs. Lays over on her back in the gravel holds her belly and laughs and laughs. I'm pissed, scared stupid, mouth hanging open and she laughs. As we get up and start for the car. I still have two handfuls of her hair, pushing her in the small of her back. Herding her toward the driver's door of the car. She turns and hugs me, really wraps her arms around me and giggles in my ear "sorry, but your ass did look cute." Absently she throws a little wave to the GUY and we crawl in the car for home. OMG (oops, I didn't mean to use that.)

But as they say ying is to yang. Thurston Howell the Third, Janey's name for him. I know broken boat, desert island, professor and Maryann. I think we both forgot what his real name was. We, okay Janey didn't even try, I met him at an office mixer. Our company, yes we both work, somewhat for the same company. With all its branches, satellite offices, department head complexes, division annexes, most people don't know who works where. You work closely with your fellows and some connecting work paths, but other than those, who knows? All this company map talk was for is the fact that, Janey, thinks he didn't even work for our company, a common gate crasher.

Our casual company mixers can get that big, plus in my own defense, the company encourages the Rarefied offices to mix with even the mail room, though these casual mixers that is. Thurston Howell the Third looked polished, you couldn't call him handsome, he was almost too pretty. Not tall like Janey but lean, long carriage. Blond hair slicked back, abit of a wave to it. "Abit", listen to that, just like the English sound he had to his voice. Not quite an accent, or maybe like one that had been polished out, Americanized. His eyes had "abit" of blue to them, kind of pale. A light sharp suit where most other people wore Friday casual. A dark ruby, heavy gold ring on his right hand, glass, Janey said. He was polished, debonair, he moved with a slow stately grace that I liked to watch. Janey gave me the stink eye when she saw that. I think that's when she started to watch us.

Some time ago Janey decided she really had to watch me. I mean I didn't get into physical danger like Janey did, the big bad biker from hell and others, many others. Remember Janey tomboy tall, pro beach volleyball player body but attitude too, with a little slut thrown in. Janey came to life with a light coat of body armor on. Missy not so much... okay not at all, no armor. Remember 5ft1 JCPenny's little girls shop, Victoria Secret lingerie, girly girl, heart on her sleeve. Janey had to hold me and wipe my tears for two days after my dad brought little fluffy back. Not only the day my puppy was lost, two days after. Then Tommy Johnston dumped me for Betty boobie because she had boobies first. That was good for almost a month, Janey hugs and my tears. Janey said Betty only got her boobs early because she watered them in the sun too much. When you have got the only in-ground swimming pool, with a fenced backyard, plus an all over tan, in the 7^th grade. You had to have watered them too much. Who notices a 7^th grader with no tan lines... only Janey. I think she only told me about the sun and water just to make me feel better.

So Janey decided she had to watch me, not for my skinned knees and elbows. Emotional investment is what she called it, in the 7^th grade, and she watched out for it. Said it was worse than motorcycle road rash, hurt more. I believe Janey. That's what makes part of this just so fuckin'- amazing. (Janey she's just a small part of all this.)

So when Thurston Howell the Third walked so stately across my life, Janey watched him. I got the stink eye. I didn't know what I was getting the stink eye for, but I did. I was only talking to this well-mannered older gentleman who was an officer of our company. Small talk started as usual, who's your parents, where you went to school, weather, yada yada. What's your favorite color, yada yada? He did mention that his role with the company was in an advisory capacity, yada yada. He did like my sense of style, so feminine and refined. Not like the crass clothes, "sniff" most wore on this casual Friday, so attractive, soft and appealing. Yada yada. Mostly his advisory role was in data mining of several world markets and capital investment groups, yada yada. His advisory path was though the PA to the CFO, yada yada. He was also with the advisory group to the COO. The real connection was direct to the CEO. Yada yada, my eyes were so unique, so beautiful. Yada yada, my skin so soft and clear, just like fine china. Yada yada, (enough with the yada's). He talked of stock group corporations, the unique problems due to response timing of world markets. Of currency investment collations. I knew all this stuff, I was just paying attention to the modulated tones of the English in his voice. The soft scent of old world money, pretty with pale blue, long narrow fingers. Soft graceful seduction.

Remember Janey, that tomboy tall pro beach volleyball player body. Grass green eyes, blond down to there. I grew-up with her, I knew when her first period started. I knew when she cheated on that math final; I knew when she lost my good silk blouse. But I can't understand how she learned to stand right there, shrink, and fade to nothing. I've tried, but I can't, she can. So when Thurston Howell the Third started talking about the mid-level manger counseling/mixer/back- patting/party that Janey and I would have to go to next week. How his BMW has to be in for maintenance, but not to worry. He'll get the limo to pick us up and I can go with... him? Janey leans over my ear and whispers "buzz, buzz words." Then she folds those oh so long legs into the small booth that Thurston Howell the Third has enfolded me in, how did I not notice that??

Janey starts the small talk again yad...(not going there again!!). She wants to know if his advisory path to the CFO goes though Ms. Stinson or Jeremy Smith? Of course Ms. Stinson, Thurston Howell the Third answered, she's the primary secretary to the CFO's Personal Assistant. Jeremy Smith is a hardnosed; take no prisoners, major roadblock to the CFO. Jeremy is a pain in everyone's ass, he's a legend. Who's Ms. Stinson, where does she work? As the rose colored over head lighting starts to fade. Janey asked Thurston Howell the Third, which BMW dealership is the best? The one in Evergreen or the one on Ashwood? She's having problems with her's (Honda Accord, nice, but Honda). Thurston Howell the Third, "Evergreen of course!" Zero for two, there's not much in Evergreen certainly not a BMW dealer, POSER. As Janey and I rise, I decide that I need a white wine and Janey wants a Jagger. The overhead lighting is bright and white, thanks to Janey. Just fuckin' amazing. (Some time's the small bit players are the ones that have the most important roles. Just fuckin' amazing.)

xy

I'm on top!! Strong, powerful got the group all here. We decided to go to this sports bar that has the most, biggest flat screens, all with the best games. It's in one of the better neighborhoods so the ladies are...nice. The most important game, Yanks vs. Reds, everyone's talking smack. RBIs, most errors per inning, stats, whose got the biggest chew and can spit the farthest. Why the Red's wouldn't get rid of their leadoff batter, who can't hit shit. Yea hot shit short stop, but a first base with a hole in his damn mitt. Damn Yankees, everyone loves to hate the Yanks, well almost everyone. Yank pitchers, don't get Mike started, I think he's got a spread sheet for ALL the pitchers in both leagues. Ex pro pitcher, IT now, out of Miami South Beach area, grew up there, Florida State top 5%, his dad was a plumber. Worked hard with his dad, got a full ride scholarship. Still worked his ASS off, could have let it slide, and worked the ball. Knew the pros were going to pick him up, still hit the books. Top flight school you don't get top 5% easy. When the arm injury happened, already had the sheepskin. Had the internship done, had the masters, stepped right in ready to run, and did he run. Dragged our company like a block of dead wood, not to the 21st, not to the 22nd, to the 23rd century. Provided the training so that everyone is in the 23rd.