*Editor's note: This story takes place about six months before A Frightful Night's Delight, special thanks to Falone for helping me with editing*
Monica sipped her drink as she stood in the corner of the dark crowded room. The sound of techno music pulsed throughout the house as various partygoers danced, made out, or for the most part, just talked and hung out with each other.
It was a housewarming party being thrown by Charles and his roommates. Mostly it was being thrown by Kyle, a tall, broad-shouldered giant of a man. He had good taste in alcohol, she had to admit. On the other hand, he did have the tendency to become rather obnoxious and feely when he became inebriated, so she had retreated to the far corner of the room.
As she finished her drink, she turned to see a man of average height, medium build, probably in his early 20's. In fact, there didn't seem to be anything at all distinctive about the brown haired, brown eyed man. He wore a black t-shirt and blue jeans, topping the whole ensemble off with a pair of sneakers. Truly on the cutting edge of fashion, she thought wryly. She realized then that he had been talking to her.
"I'm sorry, what!?" she shouted over the throbbing beat of the music.
"I said I don't believe we've met!" replied Mr. Average. "I'm John. I'm Charles's and Kyle's roommate."
"Oh! Nice to meet you, John! My name's Monica, I'm a friend of Charles!"
"Glad to meet you, Juanita!"
"MONICA!"
"Oh, sorry!" John looked sheepish for a moment, looking around quickly, and then noticing her empty cup. "Do you need that refilled?"
"Yes, please! I'll have some Jack and Coke!"
John took the plastic cup, wrinkled his nose, said something about taste, and weaved his way through the groups of people in the living room as he made for the kitchen; sharing pleasantries with the one or two people he made eye contact with on the way.
He hadn't been gone five seconds before she was being hit on by some especially obnoxious drunk. An especially obnoxious drunk who couldn't take a hint.
"Hey baby, whas' happening?" The tall blonde, who obviously thought highly of himself, seemed determined to use her waist as a handhold to keep himself up, regardless of what she thought on the matter. She twisted out of the way, trying to make her way towards the kitchen, and he grabbed hold of her shapely ass. Before he knew what hit him, she had grabbed his wrist, spun around, and was now twisting it painfully in a death grip.
"Don't touch. Got it?"
"Yeahh, shorry." The blonde guy grunted as she continued to twist his arm for a few more seconds before she released him and he wandered off cradling his arm and muttering. She turned around again to see John holding two cups, eyebrows raised.
"Remind me not to grab your ass. I happen to be fond of this arm." He grinned as he handed her a fresh drink. She glared at him for a moment before grinning and taking the offered drink. "Sorry about that, Monica. Sometimes Mike over there tends to be a lot less charming than he thinks he is."
She leaned in close to him and asked, "Is there another room we can go to? This place is too loud for a conversation!"
John nodded and waved a hand in a come-hither motion and made his way through the room again in a fashion that could only be described as "weaving" towards the hallway next to the kitchen. She followed him down the hallway a bit, sidestepping various clusters of people chatting, spotting Charles at the end of the hall chatting up some Hispanic girl. John opened a hallway door, turning on a lamp and waving her in after him.
Once inside, he closed the door and put his drink down, rubbing both ears with his palms. "Gahh, that techno crap gets old fast."
"You don't like techno?"
"Nah, more of a lounge music fan. Jazz too. Techno is good for action movies, but not much else."
"Hey, now, I might have to disagree with you there!" She grinned at him as she sipped her drink. She turned and looked around the room, taking it all in. There was a cheap computer desk with a newish looking computer on it, strewn with CDs and empty soda cans and loose bits of paper and cables. Various posters covered the walls, covering the subject matter that usually adorned the wall of the college-aged male in his natural habitat. He had all the usual assortment of furniture: dresser, bed, and a footlocker serving as a bedside table holding an alarm clock, a couple books, and another lamp.
As she looked around his room, John took a long look at the brown-haired girl. Very impressive. What he could see of her suggested she worked out a lot, with toned arms, and a confident, graceful way of moving. Strong legs and a full, shapely ass were encased in a pair of blue jeans, and a blue long-sleeved blouse was buttoned up over a slim waist and full breasts. A pair of black combat boots completed the ensemble. Above the blouse was a graceful neck, full lips, and a set of blue eyes looking back at him.
Shit. I guess I could have been more subtle.
Monica arched an eyebrow and grinned at John. The effect that had on him was notable, to say the least. He coughed nervously.
"Uhh... so would you like to have a seat?" he asked, waving at the bed with his arm. She sat down, her grin turning to a grimace of pain as she did so. "You all right, Monica?"
"Yeah, it's just that my back and neck are sore from... uhh... working out."
Now it was John's turn to raise his eyebrow.
"Working out?"
"My job, it involves lots of heavy lifting and moving around."
Noting the vagueness with which she spoke of her job, John decided to change the subject. "If you want, I can give you a backrub. I'm told I'm a pretty good masseuse."
She wasn't sure if it was the alcohol or just the prospect of a back massage, but she nodded in agreement. John sat on the bed next to her and she turned away from him so he could put his hands on her shoulders.
"Now just relax, Monica, and I'll see about working these out."
He firmly squeezed her shoulders at the base of her neck, working his way out to her shoulder blades and then back in, gently but firmly massaging the sides and back of her neck with his fingers before going back down to her shoulders. She relaxed her neck and her head lolled forward, hanging limply as he worked his hands down her back. He worked the muscles along her spine with his thumbs, while using his fingertips to massage her back farther out.
"If you lay down, I can do this better."
By this point she was more than eager for him to do it better. She stretched out on the bed, laying face down with her arms folded under her head. He ran his hands up her back, pressing down as he did, then spread his hands to massage her upper arms, then working his way back towards her neck.
Monica made a sound somewhere between a moan and a purr as John continued to massage her back. Thus encouraged, John moved from her back down to her feet.
"You want me to massage your feet?"
"Whaaa? Mah feet?"
"Yeah, your feet. And your legs, if you like."
"Sure, no problem, whatever you want."
John untied each boot and pulled them off, quickly followed by her black boot socks, and proceeded to use his thumbs to massage her feet as she curled her toes and made a pleased groan.
