After that night, Tara became a nearly daily presence in Marcus's life. She was always asking him uncomfortable questions or sending him dangerous pictures. Before, he thought that she'd been a bully, but now she took it to a whole level.
'I'm going to seduce Emma's boyfriend tonight. Which pair of panties do you think says that I'm easier?' she asked one night, followed by pictures of her modeling the aforementioned underwear.
The former was a red satin bikini cut, and the latter was black lace that showed off more than a little bit of her pussy. It made him instantly hard.
'I think either one will work just fine,' he answered, unsure of how to respond to something like this.
'See - this indecisiveness of yours is why no one wants to fuck you,' she sent back a few minutes later, 'but since a loser like you thinks either option is okay, I'm going to go commando instead. Have fun jerking off while I have fun.
She sent him a few short snaps later that night. Her kissing some blonde girl he didn't know. A room full of people dancing at what he thought was the Daniels house across town, and later, though he didn't see it until he woke up in the morning, a message of a snoring man lying in a dark room and a message that read, 'finally, a limp dick that's an even bigger loser than you. He drank too much to fuck me. What's a girl to do?'
Marcus didn't respond, but he couldn't help but wonder if he might have gotten lucky if he'd stayed up late on that Friday night or if he would have finally gotten his chance to fuck his desperate nemesis if he'd gone across town and attended that party with her.
They were desperate fantasies. He realized that, but they called to the sad, pathetic part of him that wanted to fuck Tara even if he knew it was a terrible idea.
Still, that's exactly what he found himself doing the following weekend after enduring another week of teasing and tormenting from the object of his obsession. On Wednesday, she'd almost set up a bizarre encounter with him and Emma so that he could punish the other woman for her boyfriend's terrible sin of not being able to get it up. That had fallen through at the last minute, though, and she'd sent him home, ordering him not to jerk off until she could 'find someone else for him to empty his balls into.'
Marcus hoped she meant something specific and showed up at the party she'd told him she was going to be at the following Friday, but when she saw him there, she just laughed at him and asked, "Really?" before she'd gone upstairs with a guy he recognized from his calculus class.
That enraged Marcus just enough to get hammered. For almost three weeks, he'd been reading between the lines with this crazy bitch, and just when he thought he might actually have a shot, she publically humiliated him. He actually had some pills on him. He was sure that with a little effort, he could find a pretty classmate to bang whether she wanted to or not.
Being halfway to drunk, though, he didn't trust himself not to fuck it up and get himself into trouble, so he just chatted with whoever and got slowly more wasted. That was when he ran into Rachelle.
He and Rachelle had actually gotten to know each other very well last year, though she certainly didn't remember it. Judging by her reaction when he turned to apologize for bumping into her, she didn't even know who he was, but Marcus would never forget the way her tanned skin and large breasts had looked when he'd gotten her out of her clothes at another party not so different from this one.
That look of surprise stole his apology away before he could utter it, and instead, the confluence of alcohol and entitlement brought together an altogether different response to his lips. "If you don't keep those tits to yourself, I might just take that as an invitation."
He expected to get slapped for it or maybe even beat up by some of the other guys standing around, but he didn't really care. He hadn't had a good fight since high school, and maybe the fists of strangers or assholes could knock enough sense into him for him to finally get the fuck over Tara and her mind games.
"Excuse me?" Rachelle said. It wasn't as angry as he expected, though. She was acting like she legitimately hadn't heard him over the music. Apparently, god was looking out for him and giving him a chance to change his mind.
"You heard me," he said, leaning forward slightly, practically begging for it. He didn't want to be let off the hook. He wanted her to slap him and scream and get his ass kicked. Certainly, if any woman in the world had the right to do that, well... Rachelle would be on the list at least. He swallowed hard as he realized how uncomfortably long that list really was.
She didn't scream, though. Instead, she furrowed her brow briefly before she smiled. "Maybe that's exactly what it was," she said before wandering off toward the kitchen and leaving him there with his head spinning and his dick hardening.
"Did she just fucking hit on me?" Marcus asked himself.
She couldn't have, of course, because no one had ever done such a thing, but somehow... some way... that's exactly what had just happened, and it had been a girl that he'd taken advantage of before. Rachelle was way out of his league. It was easy to see that just from the amount of cleavage. She was a hot bitch, and judging from the way men she crossed paths with looked at her, they'd be inclined to agree.
Still, Marcus was feeling self-destructive, so he decided to follow and surreptitiously see how the other half lived. He had no real experience with women who were conscious. He'd stopped asking women out after rejection number twenty-four while he was still in high school when Patricia Nealson had staked him through the heart in front of her friends.
