This story is a sequel to "Holly, Tiffani and Me." I would strongly suggest reading "Holly, Tiffani and Me" before jumping into this story. Enjoy!!!

 

Tiffani Takes Charge               by: Kimberli Nicole McCarthy

 

Morning found me groggily coming to, cradled warmly in Michael’s lap, with my hand resting comfortably between his legs. My initial surprise was offset by fond recognition, and fonder memories, as I surveyed my body, admiring the black bra and panties that I was still wearing.

Yes, this was incredibly weird, but while I had these clothes on, I was still Tiffani, and I acted accordingly. I ran my fingers through Michael’s hair and lightly kissed his sleeping lips. His slight smile as his head shifted from one shoulder to the next showed me that he didn’t regret the night before either.

I thought of a way to thank Michael for one of the most wonderful evenings of my life.

I gently snuck of Michael’s lap, grabbed my dress, gloves and shoes from the floor, and ran up to Kristin’s room. To say that Kristin is a deep sleeper is to say that Michael Jordan is mildly popular. It was at lest three and a half hours until noon, and I knew that my sister would not arise from her coma until at least then.

So I stood in front of her mirror to see if the illusion had worn off. Sadly, it had.

The hair extension was a stringy mess, my eye makeup was blurred beyond repair, and I had left my lipstick all over Michael’s body. Think fast!!!

I grabbed a brush off of Kristin’s vanity and with a few strong brushed and a scrunchie that I found in the drawer, The extension was pulled back into a bouncy ponytail. I knew that I had no ability to make me face up, and I certainly wasn’t going to wake Kristin to ask her to pretty me up so that I could seduce my best friend, so I grabbed a pair of oversized sunglasses (but different htan the ones I wore the night before) from Kristin’s dresser.

Putting the sunglasses on and primping out the bangs of my hair put me back on the path to passability. The pink lipstick sealed the deal, from the neck up I was once again a hottie!!! I knew that time was of the essence, but I couldn’t seem to pull myself away from the mirror, smiling coyly and blowing sweet kisses to myself.

After five minutes of that, I fortified my bra, making large and alluring breasts out of Kristin’s pantyhose.

Now, I thought, what does a girl wear to look sexy on a lazy New Year’s morning? A skirt would be too obvious, too desperate a measure. I found the answer laying on top of Kristin’s hamper–a pair of navy blue nike jogging pants with a yellow stripe down the side and a matching navy and yellow sports bra.

Jeez, I should really think about getting a belly button ring, I though to myself as I admired my flat stomach and the expanse of skin showing between the loose, crinkly pants and the tight, busty sports bra.

Again, I thought it would be too much to wear heels with this get-up, but I didn’t want to wear boring old sneakers, so I ran into the bathroom and found a shade of nail polish that matched my pink lips, and quickly painted my toenails.

Twenty minutes later, the kitchen was filled with the wonderful smell of a full country breakfast. Picking up the tray of eggs, bacon, pancakes and toast that I had arranged for my Michael, I headed toward the living room, but not before checking myself out one more time in the reflection of sliding glass doors in the kitchen.

It is scary how quickly I’ve become a convincing girl. With the exception of the oversized sunglasses, which would have been adorable with just about any outfit other than my jogging pants and sports bra, I was a spectacularly cute young co-ed. It wasn’t hard to imagine boys turning their heads as I jogged past on a sunny spring afternoon, my ponytail swishing this way and that in tune with my paces.

I hoped Michael would feel the same way. I wanted to see him smile to see his perky little date serving him breakfast in bed. (or on a couch).

The empty couch and bare carpet told me that at some point during my preparation for the perfect morning, Michael had other ideas and gathered his things and left.

 

In retrospect, what amazes me most is not what Michael and I did on New Year’s Eve, but the relative ease with which we resumed our friendship without mentioning it again. It was as if Tiffani never existed, and we spent the evening as we usually spent New Year’s–sitting on our asses and watching Dick Clark.

I guess Mike was embarrassed, or disgusted, or who knows what, but I knew that I wanted it to happen again. But since it wasn’t, entertaining that notion would only hurt even more, so I filed the memories away and went about being Charlie.

Of course, I’d be lying to you if I told you I wasn’t thinking about it on the night of Valentine’s Day.

"Charlie, can you come here I second?" I heard Kristin calling.

"This better be good," I yelled, pausing my game of Driver 2.

"I need your advice for tomorrow night. Justin is taking me to the Garlic Rose for dinner, and I can’t decide what to wear. Should I wear this?" she asked, posing in the little black cocktail dress she had tried on, "or this?" motioning toward a long black skirt and a red turtleneck sweater she was holding on hangers.

"Ooh, I don’t know," I replied, "that’s a tough call. I’d probably need to see you in both outfits to be sure."

"He’s gonna be here in ten minutes," she said, "I don’t have time for a fashion show."

"Then just wear what you’re wearing, you look great."

"But I think it might be a little much," she said, "after all, we’re only going to dinner, and this is more of a party dress."

Without thinking, I gave Kristin the solution, "Well, if you really want to see how they both look, why don’t I put on the skirt and sweater, and then you can see the two outfits side-by-side. We’re the same size, and I fit into your New Year’s Dress perfectly, so we might as well try it." What am I saying?

Kristin stopped laughing hysterically only after she saw the range of emotions on my face. From an earnest expression of wanting to help, to disappointment, to a forced "I was only kidding" laugh, to red faced shame.

"You’d do that for me?" she asked, stifling giggles, "that’s so sweet."

Kristin was clearly intrigued by my proposition, and though we never spoke in depth about how I felt dressed as a girl for New Year’s, I think she was starting to figure out that I liked it a lot more than I let on. This revelation was helped in no small part by the excitement and speed with which I stripped out of my clothes, and threw on a bra full of toilet paper, the ankle length black skirt, and the tight short sleeved red turtleneck.

Looking down I was instantly aroused by the way the ribbed sweater curved around my breasts. Looking around in the closet, I found a perfect pair of clunky three inch black heels, which looked better with the outfit than I thought they would.

"How’d you know that those were the shoes I picked out with that outfit?"

"What? These? They were the first shoes I saw in the closet."

"Charlie?"

"Yes?"

"Is that you?"

"Whattya mean?"

"I mean, when did you get a fashion sense, and more importantly, when did you start wearing women’s clothing?"

"WELL FORGIVE ME FOR TRYING TO HELP MY SISTER!!!" I screamed, "I’ll have you know that this is only the second time I’ve dressed like this, and both times it was your stupid idea, so just back off!!!"

My idea? Kristin thought. "Sorry Charlie–or should I say Charlene?"

"Tiiffani," Charlie interjected, immediately regretting it.

"Oh so you have a name too, this is just too precious."

"Shut up," I said, for lack of a better comeback.

"Well then, Tiffani," she said "let’s have a look."

I walked towards Kristin a few steps, did a supermodel spin so she could see the backside, and then lay across the bed, crossing my legs and propping my head upon my hand. "Will Justin be able to keep his hands off you in this outfit?"

"I don’t think so," said Kristin, " take it off, I think that’s the one."

 

A half hour later, sitting on the couch watching the tube, my thoughts turned to the rudeness of Justin.

Geez, I thought, they’ve been going out for almost a month now, you would think that he’d want to come inside and introduce himself to his girlfriend’s roommate/brother. If Mom and Dad were still alive, they’d be appalled that he just honked the horn and made her come out.

My thoughts were interrupted by a faint sound from the upstairs. A siren song was singing to me from upstairs, and I found myself racing up the steps, my feet barely touching the floor. The song was coming from my sister’s room, where I saw the black cocktail dress laying innocently across her bed. The siren would be me.

Some time after that, I watched myself in the mirror as I applied the red lipstick. This is no joke, I thought, I look really pretty as a girl. Th spaghetti strapped black cocktail dress hugged my body beautifully. The skirt stopped a few inches above my knee, exposing lovely black stocking encased legs. The shiny black pumps were definitely an attention getter. As usual, the only problems were my eyes and hair.

Well, in truth the eyes weren’t exactly a problem, the baby blues glowed gorgeously under my lashes, elongated by the mascara. But what was I going to do about making up the rest of my eyes? I feared that any attempt at eyeshadow and liner would leave me looking like a hopeless fool, so once again, I turned to my old standby, oversized black sunglasses.

But what of the hair? True, I hadn’t cut it since before New Years, but even so it was just barely below my ears. I tried a headband, barettes, little clips shaped like butterflies, you name it, no matter what I always looked like a girl with a boyish haircut. And not a cute boyish haircut, mind you, just a plain old crappy boyish haircut.

Aw shit, I thought, I guess the hair and eye lessons are for some other time, this’ll just have to do for now.

I returned to the couch, practicing various forms of leg crosses and other feminine poses as I flipped through the channels.

The flipping stopped when I came to HBO. There was a documentary about drag performers on, featuring a tall, incredibly gorgeous, red haired drag queen named Candis. She was wearing a long velvety red gown, and her hair was pulled up in a very glamorous do. I became aroused at the thought that as beautiful as she looked, I was just as passable. Unfortunately, my attention span is shorter than your average hyperactive three year old on a sugar high, so my fingers found the remote again, this time stopping on a repeat of Beverly Hills 90210. In this episode, it seems that Mr. Walsh was having fantasies about his nubile young secretary, and in this particular fantasy, the secretary saunters into the office, crawls across the desk, and pulls him toward her by his tie.

As I watched, I imagined myself as the secretary, crawling across a desk behind which Michael was sitting. I was getting myself really hot, and without hesitation, I went to the bathroom, returning with a big white bath towel so that I could get some relief from the heat I was feeling.

My thought returned to New Year’s Eve as my hand wrapped around my swollen penis.

 

Passed out on the couch, skirt pulled high and hand on myself, I woke violently with the sound of the front door opening.

Good Christ in Heaven, what the hell am I going to do.

Thinking fast, I straightened the dress out, wrapped my head in the towel as if I was drying my hair, and I threw on the sunglasses.

"And who is this?" asked Justin, as my sister stood next to him, looking as if she has just seen a band of purple monkeys cartwheeling across the living room.

"I’m Tiffani," I said, extending my hand. "I’m Kristin’s sister."

"I thought you lived with your brother," said Justin, turning to Kristin.

"I do..." said Kristin, the wheels turning furiously in her brain. "Tiffani lives around the corner."

"That’s right," I chimed in, "I’m sorry to surprise you Kris," I said, "but we ran out of cold water tonight and I had a date with Umberto, and I didn’t know what to do, so I came over here to take a shower, but then I fell asleep because I’ve been working so hard this weekend...oh my God, Umberto is totally gonna dump me for this, oh my god!!!" and feigning tears I ran upstairs, hopefully to safety.

"Your sister is a bit odd, wouldn’t you say?" asked Justin.

"She’s a friggin’ fruit loop!"

"Why was she wearing sunglasses at two in the morning?"

"Oh that? She poked herself in the eye with a fork last week. She’s a little sensitive to light."

 

The next few months were a whirlwind. Kristin was thrilled to have a sister to hang around with, and we spent a lot of our free time tending to Tiffani. Tiffani was given makeup and hair lessons. Tiffani’s hair grew longer, and was eventually shoulder length and layered. Charlie, of course, had to spend a lot of time making it look like a head of hair that was not taken well care of, so that he would look like a guy who didn’t give a damn about his unkempt hair, rather than a girl who certainly did.

Tiffani usually wore her sister’s clothes, but occasionally on trips to the mall she would supplement "their" wardrobe with a new skirt or sweater, or maybe some new shoes.

Unfortunately though, Tiffani remained a secret between sisters. And while Mike thought it was a bit peculiar that Charlie was letting his hair grow long for the first time after he was through with his rebellious teenage years, he didn’t give it too much thought.

In early October, a full ten months after the New Year’s incident, about which Mike and Charlie had still never conversed, Charlie received a phone call.

"Charlie,"

"Yeah, what’s up Mike?"

"Listen bud, I need a huge favor."

"What’s the problem?"

"You remember that wedding I got invited to? Dennis from college? The one I’m the usher in?"

"What about it?" I said, the hairs on the back of my neck standing up in excitement.

"Well I don’t have a date for it yet, and it’s next Saturday, and I’m the only usher who doesn’t have a date, so the dais will look really lame if I can’t find a chick to bring."

"And.." I said, trying hard to hide the anticipation I felt at the opportunity to wear send Tifffani to a wedding.

"Well can you ask Kristin if she’s got plans for Saturday. I ‘m in a real bind here."

With heavy heart, I convinced Kristin to do this favor for my best friend.

 

Saturday morning, my time spent contemplating my navel was interrupted by the whine of my stupid bitch man stealing sister Kristin.

"Charlie," will you please come here for a second, I need a favor."

"This had better be good!!!"

Kristin’s eyes had a mischievous glint to them. In her left hand was an amazing burnt orange gown, in her right hand were the pair of crutches she wore in Janaury, as well as what looked to be a leg cast. "Which one do you think I should wear tonight?"

I ran to her and threw my arms around her next, my tears falling on her chest.

 

We both looked great.

I was wearing the floor length burnt orange gown. The spaghetti straps lay gracefully on my shoulders, the neckline exposing a cute little cleavage, magically enhanced by breastforms and the corset Kristin tied me into. My makeup was perfect, with fall earthtones enveloping my eyes and brown lipstick on my pouty, kissable lips.

Kristin’s hair lay haphazardly on her head, to go with the fake hangdog expression on her face. She looked natural with the crutches, and I was touched that she would actually apply a plaster cast to her leg just for me.

Kristin continued styling my hair, giving it a perfect and shiny shoulder length bob. It curled beautifully inward below my jaw. Kristin then tucked my hair behind my left ear, placing a blooming rose there dyed to match my burnt orange dress perfectly.

"It’s a bit much," she shrugged, "but I want you to look really special tonight."

"Kristin," I trembled, "I’d cry if I knew it wouldn’t mess up this spectacular make up job."

 

"Jesus Kristin," Mike stammered, standing at the door in a black tuxedo and a look of dismay. "What happened?"

"I’m so sorry Mike," she said, "but I was cleaning the leaves out of the gutter today, and I slipped on some wet leaves and fell off the roof."

"You were on the roof! Why didn’t you make Charlie do it?"

"Because Charlie was doing other things."

"Like what?"

"Oh, I don’t know, this and that, he’s been gone since this morning."

"Well what am I gonna do now?"

"Don’t worry about a thing, I found a girlfriend to go in my place."

"Thank god," said Mike, leaning over to kiss Kristin on the forehead, "you’re a lifesaver, who’d you get."

"She got me," I said, descending the stairs as a princess would to meet her receiving line.

"I don’t think we’ve met, I’m----oh Sweet Jesus, Charlie, is that you?"

"Charlie, who’s Cahrlie," asked Kristin.

"I’m Tiffani," I said, performing a slight curtsy, "I believe we’ve met before, haven’t we Michael"

"Uhh..yes, we have," Michael gulped, ‘but that was a long time ago, I didn’t think I’d ever see you again."

"Well here I am, Michael. It’s up to you whether or not you wish to bring me to the wedding."

Shuffling his feet, turning red as a fire truck, I started to feel bad about putting him on the spot like this. This was truly awkward, and I should have respected Mike’s decision to try to forget about Tiffani. I had to make this right.

"Don’t worry sweetie," I said, resting my hand on his bicep as my arm entangled with his. "I won’t bite. This is a platonic date, just a friend doing a friend a favor. I’ll be a good girl."

"Well as long as we’ve got that straight," said Michael, "I’d be glad to escort you to the wedding, and I thank you for making such a lovely, and convincing, companion."

* * * *

We didn’t say much on the ride to the church. Twenty-five minutes of silence begins to grate on you, and finally, Michael exploded.

"For crying out loud Charlie–"

"Tiffani," I interrupted, patting Michael on the knee, "remember Darling, we must keep up appearances."

"Whatever, Ch..Tiff, how often do you do this?"

"Accompany you to weddings? This is the first time pumpkin, but I’m really looking forward to it" I asked.

"No dumbass, I mean how often does Tiffani come out?"

"Not very," I lied, "this is only the second time. I only did this for you and Kristin. This is Kristin’s dress."

"Bullshit, you are way too natural. You must do this often."

"Oh Michael, that’s so sweet. I’m very flattered that you find me so lovely, but I assure you, I only do this for you."

"Let’s get one thing straight Tiffani, I didn’t ask for this tonight, nor did I ask for it on New Year’s. I’m not a homo."

"Who called you a homo, honey?" I asked sweetly as we pulled into the church parking lot, "of course you’re not gay. If you were, you wouldn’t be allowed in the church. Besides, there is nothing gay about a man kissing a beautiful woman."

"You may be beautiful, but you are no woman," he shot back.

"Baby," I purred, batting my eyelashes, "you called me beautiful. You’re so thoughtful." To my surprise, he didn’t flinch as I leaned over and planted a kiss on his cheek. "Now come on, let’s get this party started."

 

Two glasses of white wine into the cocktail hour, I was starting to get upset. At first it didn’t bother me that Michael was introducing me as Tiffani, his "friend from home," instead of his girlfriend. I grew more upset as I spent time alone at the bar while he flirted with every single girl there. I really wanted to cry when I overheard him telling his friends that things were "strictly platonic" between us and that there "just wasn’t any electricity, no real connection."

My self pity was interrupted by a gentle tap on the shoulder.

"Excuse me, but do you mind if I get to the bar, I want to order a beer."

"Oh, I’m sorry," I said, moving out of his way.

"I see your glass is almost empty, would you like some more wine."

"Are you buying?" I asked.

"Uh, it’s an open bar."

"I know that silly, I was kidding."

"Oh...oh yeah, ha, that’s funny."

"I’m Tiffani," I said.

"I’m Jack," he said, "have we met before?"

"Is that your best line?" I asked, smiling to let him know I didn’t mind if it was.

"No, actually I have much better lines. However, what I meant was, are you a friend of the bride or groom?"

"Neither, I’m here with Michael Davidson."

"Davidson? That jackass is lucky enough to be here with a girl like you? He never had that kind of luck in college."

"He doesn’t have that kind of luck now," I said, "we grew up together, I’m only here because he was stuck for a date."

"Really?"

* * * *

Jack was not as good a kisser as Michael, but he would do for now.

What started as a brief flirtation at the bar turned into a few dances. When I noticed that Michael was trying his best to ignore my time spend with Jack, the dancing became a bit more intimate. It got slightly erotic when I allowed him to grind his hips into mine during "Gettin’ Jiggy With It."

His hard on felt wonderful grinding into me, and I held the back of his neck as his arms wrapped around my lower back.

"You are an excellent dancer," he said.

Out of the corner of my eye I spied Michael spying us.

I began massaging the hair on the back of Jack’s head.

Leaning to his ear, I whispered to Jack that things were getting a bit hot on the dance floor and asked if he’d like to join me outside.

The crisp autumn wind felt refreshing as it swirled around my back and up my skirt.

"Tiffani," asked Jack, "are you sure Michael won’t mind?"

"Do you really care Jack?" I asked as I sat on the hood of the limousine, crossing my legs and looking at Jack in a way that showed him that even if he did, I certainly did not.

"Well, we are old friends, and I don’t want to step on his..."

I think Jack was going to say toes, but I’ll never know, because the only sound he made was a moan as I wrapped his tie around my hand and pulled him toward me. Like I said before, he wasn’t as good a kisser as Michael, but it was still nice to feel his warm lips against mine, his tongue searching ferociously for mine, his hands massaging the small of my back.

"Oh Jack," I moaned.

"Tiffani," he said, looking deeply into my eyes, "you are gorgeous. I need you."

"I need you now, Jack" I whispered.

Within thirty seconds, Jack had paid the chauffeur twenty bucks to get lost for a half hour, and I was laying on top of him in the back of the limo.

His hands were running up and down my back, occasionally stop at my ass to give it a soft and sensuous squeeze. I sat up, riding his hip thrusts, throwing my head back and forth so that my hair would fly dramatically across my face. His hand shot up to feel my breast, but I caught it and enclosed my sweet lips around his finger. I smiled and moaned as I sucked his finger.

"Jack," I said, removing his hand from my mouth. "Do you want me?"

"Oh, God I want you."

"How bad do you want me?"

"I want you more than anything."

"Will you do whatever I say?"

"Anything you ask."

My hard cock strained against the gaff in the corset, my excitement grew as I realized that I had Jack wrapped around my finger. That feeling of complete power and control was a wonderful aphrodisiac.

I untied Jack’s tie and pulled it from around his neck. Then I ripped his shirt open, buttons flying everywhere. I leaned over and kissed his chest, stopping for a while at his nipple as I playfully bit it. I could feel and hear Jack’s racing heart. His penis was throbbing hard against my thigh. Every one of my senses was heightened as I continued to suck his nipple as his hands massaged my hair.

Sitting up, I again asked Jack if his wish was my command.

It was.

The tie was a perfect length to bind his wrists together and then again to the inside arm of the passenger door.

The look on Jack’s face was pure ecstasy as he wriggled helplessly beneath me.

As my painted nails began to undue his belt, Jack’s passion increased, as did mine.

I hungrily ripped his pants and boxers off, and smiled as I gazed upon his rock hard cock.

"Jack?" I asked, pressing my finger lightly on my lower lip, "would you mind if I kiss it?"

Jack squealed.

As my hand wrapped his warm and throbbing cock, I ran my tongue around my lips, looking Jack in the eye, seeing his hunger.

"I want your cock so badly," I whispered, "I need it now."

I leaned over and kissed his belly right above the navel, running my tongue downward toward my ultimate goal. Jack continued squealing, he sounded like he would burst.

As the tip of my tongue met the head of his dick, burst he did, shooting a huge load all over the limo, but mostly in my face.

I would have bit his dick completely off had it not been for the excruciating wail that emanated from Jack’s horrified face. My anger turned to pity as the look on his face told me that it was clearly not his intention to ejaculate so ridiculously early.

"Tiffani, I’m so, so, so sorry," he began as I wiped my face with some tissues I pulled out of my purse. "It’s just that you are SO beautiful, and you were turning me on SO much, and I just couldn’t hold it in, you drive me absolutely wild."

I couldn’t help but suppress a small smile. "It’s friggin’ disgusting what just happened, but I guess I won’t hold it against you."

"I’m sorry Tiff, really I am."

"Alright, enough of this apologizing. Listen, if you take me back in right now, I promise to save you a dance before the reception’s over."

"Fine by me, you’re just gonna have to untie me first."

"Certainly," I said, leaning my body over his to untie the knots, "do I really make you feel that crazy inside?"

Face to face, Jack pressed his forehead to mine and said, "Tiffani, you are an amazing woman."

* * * *

"YOU WHAT?!?!?"

"Stop yelling, it wasn’t like I planned it, it just sorta happened."

"Oh, you just happened to find yourself in the back of a limo with Jack?"

"Yes, it was spontaneous."

"SPONTANEOUS?!?!"

"Michael, please, watch the road, you’re going to kill us."

"I’m gonna kill myself. I mean, I might as well just do it before Jack finds out I hooked him up with a guy."

"How’s Jack gonna find that out?"

"He’ll find out the next time you see him. It’ll probably take two seconds for you to get naked and show him the goods you dirty slut."

"I AM NOT A SLUT. JACK AND I DIDN’T DO ANYTHING, JUST A LITTLE KISSING," I lied.

"My ass, I’m sure you went down on him faster than you did on New Year’s?"

"First of all, I did not suck his cock," it was only an attempted cock sucking, I thought to myself, "and second of all, what you and I did ten months ago had nothing to do with tonight."

"It had everything to do with tonight Tiffani!!! I thought what we did was just a crazy, one time thing, but now I find out that I my best friend is a fag."

"I AM NOT A FAG!!!! DON’T YOU CALL ME THAT!!!" I screamed, choking back tears.

"Well what would you call a guy that sucks every dick that comes his way."

"YOU ASSHOLE!!!" I screamed, tears streaming down my face. "I’ve only sucked one dick, and that’s yours, and if I had sucked Jack’s tonight, it would only have been to piss you off!!!"

"To piss me off? When did we start dating? Earth to Tiffani, Earth to Tiffani, you ARE NOT Tiffani, you are CHARLIE!!!"

"Stop the car."

"What?"

"Stop the car right now."

"Why?"

"Just do it."

"But were fifteen minutes from home. It’s too far for you to walk."

"Just stop the car for a second."

"Fine, whatever."

Michael pulled the car to a stop at the side of the darkened road.

"Stay right here for a second, and leave the lights on," I demanded.

"Whatever."

I checked myself in the rear mirror and wiped away the tears and mascara smudges.

 

I’ll show him, I thought to myself, stupid asshole bastard.

I got out of the car and walked around to the front of the hood. Slowly, I began a variation of the dance I did for Michael ten months earlier. I swayed seductively, caressing myself with my hands, running them through my hair, striking every pose I could ever remember Madonna hitting on MTV. It was cold out, but I was determined. As I crawled up the hood to face Michael through the mirror, I could see his adam’s apple bobbing down a nervous gulp.

Michael got out of the car and pulled me off the hood.

"Get off the car, Tiffani, you’re going to attract too much attention."

"Michael honey, there’s no one around, look how dark it is."

"Just get in the car, I’m taking you home."

"Why so fast?" I asked with both my eyes and mouth as my hand found his concrete shaft. "You’re just getting excited. Are you rushing me home to get me home, or to get me into your bed?"

"What are you trying to do to me?" Michael whispered.

"I’m trying to get you to admit what you feel inside."

"What’s that?"

"That as strange as it may be, Tiffani drives you crazy. You want her. You want to be inside her."

"I do. I want you so badly. I wanted to kill Jack tonight."

"Then do what you want to do."

Michael’s lips, so close to touching mine, spread apart in a blood curdling scream as my knee thrust into his balls. I stood over him as he writhed on the ground.

"THAT IS FOR TREATING MY LIKE A FREAK ALL NIGHT!" I screamed, and then kicked him again. "AND THAT WAS FOR CALLING ME A SLUT. NOW GET UP PUSSY BOY, YOU JUST GOT YOUR ASS KICKED BY A GIRL, AND SHE WANTS A RIDE HOME NOW."

I do not exaggerate when I say that the next fifteen minutes were filled with the most deafening silence these ears have ever heard.

As the car pulled into my driveway, I leaned over an gave Michael a quick peck on the cheek and a reaffirming squeeze of the knee.

"Michael, I sorry for being so mean, but you really hurt my feelings tonight. I’d say we’re even. No hard feelings then, heh? "

Michael groaned in response.

"Tell you what, I think you and Charlie should hang out tomorrow, maybe play some video games. How’s that sound."

The tone of his groan told me that détente had been achieved.

"Thanks again sweetie," I called out, swishing my hips back and forth as I walked into the house, so that I could give him a good idea of what he missed tonight.

 

To be continued

 

 

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