“I tell you what, BJ.”
“DJ, actually.”
“Whatever. I tell you what, BJ. You pay me back the $200 the booze you cost me in alcohol, and I’ll call us even. How’s that sound?” Her friends vocalized their agreement with the sentiment, clearly not expecting an RA making less than half of that a month to accept such terms.
“Fair deal.” DJ reached into his wallet, still overflowing with the money he’d made with Sydney last night. (Ordinarily he’d never walk around with so much cash, but he figured things being the way they were, what did he have to worry about?) He counted out $200 bill by bill, dropping it on the table in front of the stunned group of girls.
When he finished, he slid it over towards her. “You’re sure it was just $200?”
Too shocked to consider exploiting the implied offer, she just nodded. “Um, yeah. That oughta cover it.”
“So we’re cool now?”
Ashley looked to her friends, and she to them. A brief murmured conference took place before she looked back to DJ. “Yeah, we’re cool.”
DJ grinned. “Cool. I’ll see you around.” He walked away feeling good about himself. So far, so good.
His second temptation came that night. DJ and the few friends he did have got together one night a week, usually Saturday, to play games and hang out to do the kind of things nerds did, and today was it. He took the bus to the apartment Logan and Derek shared, his stock of board games in his duffel bag. Robbie, the final member of the foursome, was not coming—working on a big project due Monday, evidently.
He contemplated whether or not to tell them what had happened to him, and decided he may as well. He began with the incident in the lounge, and proceeded up through last night at the strip club. The guys listened with some interest, and when he finished, he looked to them for reaction.
“Yeah, so is it my turn or yours?” Logan asked.
“I think it’s yours,” Derek replied.
DJ laughed to himself, and just played the game. After the craziness of the previous couple days, it was nice to just be hanging out without any mischief or complications. He lost the first game, and was losing the second with an easy contentment at the uncomplicated evening.
That is, until Rachael showed up. She walked in without knocking, a hamper full of clothes held in front of her. Rachael was Derek’s little sister, a freshman at the university. Worst of all, Rachael was cute. She was thin, skinny really, with breasts that were probably just barely a B cup but complimented her wide-eyed innocent face, and with a butt so tight DJ thought he could cup it in one hand.
Derek was well aware that Rachael was a distraction—and was not at all keen on having his friends eyeing his little sister. “What the hell are you doing here, Rach? The guys are over. It’s game night.”
“Don’t mind me, fellas—just here to do a little laundry.”
Derek arched an eyebrow. “On a Saturday night? And you say I’m antisocial.”
She set down her hamper in front of the closet that held the washer/dryer and flipped her brother off. “My friends all went home for the weekend,” she said in a tone that made it clear that was not something that interested her, “and besides, every time I do laundry at the dorm, stuff goes missing. I think there’s some perv going around stealing panties and stuff.” She made a face.
Logan perked up and asked her to join their game and take Robbie’s usual spot, but she politely declined. Instead, she got a load going and curled up on the couch with a beauty magazine. She was wearing short shorts, and neither DJ nor Logan could resist glancing over at the exposed expanse of slender leg. Derek glared at them whenever he caught them.
And so it went for most of an hour, DJ just thinking all the while how easily he could go over there and act out every fantasy the nubile freshman had ever inspired in him. But as it happened, it was Derek who finally pushed him over the edge.
“Earth to Swanson?” Derek slugged him in the arm, a little too hard, and DJ dragged his eyes away from where Rachael was repeatedly bending at the waist to grab the clothes from the wash and toss them in the dryer. (For a moment, DJ wondered that someone had willingly hit him, but he quickly rationalized that this was just a common and annoying habit Derek had with his friends.) “If you’re not too busy dreaming up bullshit stripper stories, you could take your turn, eh?”
Rachael looked over curiously, and DJ tried not to notice the lacy red bra in her hand. “Stripper stories?”
Derek shook his head. “Don’t get him started. Came in here earlier telling us he’s got a super power that lets him bang strippers.”
Rachael arched an eyebrow, laughing. “I guess that’d be a good one to have.”
She bent down and, with perfect innocence, grabbed a thong out of the washer, turned and twisted it until she could figure how to get it right-side out, and put it in the dryer. The image, the taunt, the legs…
No. It’s your friend’s sister. It’s wrong.
Derek slugged him in the arm again. DJ’s resolve broke.
As Rachael dumped the remainder of her hamper into the washer, DJ was there to stop the lid from closing. “Say, what about the clothes you’re wearing?”
She looked down at her baggy t-shirt and short shorts. “What about them?”
“Don’t you want to get them clean? I just hate that feeling when I do laundry, get it all folded and put away, then I have to toss the clothes I’m wearing in the hamper.”
She laughed, humoring him. “Yeah, me too. Still, can’t exactly sit around naked for the next two hours while it cycles through.”
DJ waved a hand. “Sure you can! You got your brother here to look out for you, make sure none of us try anything.”
“I kinda don’t want him seeing me naked either.” She stood awkwardly, not sure what to do with DJ’s hand still keeping the lid open.
“Nonsense.” He grasped the bottom of her shirt in both hands, and without asking, began lifting it up. She squirmed a moment, but only a little, and it wasn’t nearly enough to thwart the efforts of a man determined to get her top off. A moment later, there she was in her little pink bra, her little breasts so small that even the tiny garment looked baggy on her.
“DJ!” She squeaked.
“We’re all adults here—besides, Derek doesn’t think I have any ‘super power,’ so since I don’t, I’m sure he’ll step in if I take it too far, won’t you Derek?”
Derek gave him a hard look, but kept his seat. “Rachael’s a big girl; she can take care of herself.” Meanwhile, Logan just stared like he thought if he looked hard enough, his eyes would melt the bra right off of her.
“C’mon Rachael, let’s go. Rest of your clothes. C’mon. C’mon.” He took her wrists in hands and moved them to her bra clasp; she lowered them, but after a few times of him putting them back in place, she finally undid the clasp. Her breasts were petite, but they were no less lovely for it, just large enough to have that little crease between them and the skin of her upper stomach.
DJ took the bra from her hand and tossed it in the washer as she covered her breasts with her hands. Tall as she was, and short as her shorts were, she was already mostly bare. “Good girl, Rachael, now the shorts.”
“What?!” she half-shrieked, half-whispered. “No, no way.”
“You can take them off or I can take them off for you. Your pick.”
Somehow she blushed even deeper, and after a moment, hooked her thumbs in the waistline of her shorts and wiggled them down. She kicked them off when they hit her ankles. Her panties were silk leopard print and clung to her trim frame like a second skin.