It had been a stupid bet to make and now Corinne was really regretting it. She'd been so desperate to be "one of the guys" with Steve and his buddies that common sense had blown out the window the evening they were all picking their favorites for March Madness. There had been several rounds of shooters involved as contributing factors too. But Corinne had figured her college training in statistics would serve her well in a contest like this.
It didn't. When all was said and done she came in dead last in her picks. The guys had all seemed to pick virtually the same lineup with subtle deviations in each case. She had managed to select every loser in the very first round.
What made things worse was that the "prizes" they all had agreed on ranged from a bottle of fifteen year old Glenfiddich for the best picks to "punitive sex" for the loser. Everyone else had assumed that Brembo or Lou would end up the loser, that Corinne's math skills would serve her better than they had. Punitive sex had been defined as a date with an individual to be chosen by the group with the requirement that the loser obtain a "trophy" before the nights end. All present knew that a trophy meant a pair of panties, obtained by whatever means required. All also knew that the individual chosen would likely be Mel.
Mel, like Corinne, hung out with the guys from time to time and was just as desperate to fit in. But where Corinne was wispy and tomboyish at five three and a hundred fifteen pounds, Mel was an amazon at six four and tipped the scales somewhere in the two hundred pound range. She did little to enhance her very plain appearance but projected an air of sexuality, constantly hitting on every guy she met, never to any result as far as any of them were aware.
When it turned out that Corinne ended up on the short end of the stick, the guys took pity on her, agreeing that setting Corrine up with Mel would not be appropriate. Instead, Vince volunteered his cousin Chris.
None of the group had ever heard of Chris before. All Vince would volunteer was that Chris was a Loyola Law School grad, worked in Manhattan, would be visiting him the first week of April, and was not a jerk.
Corrine knew that Vince had her back and wouldn't set her up with his cousin unless they were at least a halfway decent individual. She and he had slept together a couple times on a purely fwb basis so there was a certain amount of a trust factor. As far as she was aware he'd never let on to any of the others that he knew her on an intimate level.
The fact that Chris was a New York attorney intrigued her. It sounded cosmopolitan and powerful. She envisioned a tall handsome young man in an expensive suit and tie. When she plied Vince for more details he was evasive. All that he would offer with regard to further information was that Chris practiced environmental law, played racquetball, sailed, and was single.
As the evening approached, Corrine's anticipation grew. She found herself deciding to up her game a few notches, getting a fresh cut to her boyishly short hair, shopping for a new dress, new shoes, and some decidedly more girlish lingerie than was her norm. On the appointed evening she stepped out of her apartment wearing a short celadon green sheath, a saddle colored leather blazer that she wore only occasionally, and new shoes that matched the blazer. Usually she only wore the blazer with jeans but she was pleased with how dressy and hip it looked when paired with four inch heels and a great deal of bare leg.
Beneath it all she wore sheer white panties, a matching bra coddling her b cups and doing little to control her aroused nipples. She'd never been in quite such a state before. The mystique had gotten to her.
The guys had set up the location, one of the nicer restaurants in town. Corrine was to meet Chris at the bar, a table had been reserved, and they'd even taken care of obtaining a room at the hotel an block away. As she settled into a barstool the hem of her dress rose dangerously high and she crossed her legs which precluded overexposure but resulted in the display of a great deal of sleek upper thighs. Surveying the other patrons there was no one that seemed as though they might be Chris. Vince had offered up a bit more with regard to Chris's physical appearance just before she'd headed out - five nine, fit, slim, blonde and blue eyed. The last part had thrown her a bit as she'd been envisioning someone with brown hair.
As the bartender approached she wondered if there was something amiss. His sandy colored hair might be misconstrued as blonde but she would certainly not consider him to be slim or fit and as he neared his eyes were decidedly brown, not blue.
"Good evening Corrine." He had obviously been prepped by the guys. As she raised an eybrow he reached into the breast pocket of the black and crimson vest he wore, removing a small photograph and after examining both it and her adding "You're much prettier in the flesh."
