Confessions of a Rich Girl

Chapter 1: Zeke

     "London! Hey! You look fantastic, love the dress."

     "Thanks babe." I smile, "Yours is gorgeous, red looks good on you." Confession: I hate her dress.

     I had assumed the conversation was over, and if not, I was already walking away joining the army of teenagers that smell like teen spirit and cannabis. It is Dylan Schneider's party and the place is packed. Right from the doors, you could smell the excitement and anticipation in the air. Smoke from happy green plants and various drugs danced together. The house was illuminated with neon lights and all I could see were tons of bodies sweating and grinding on each other. The music was feeding the victims of liquid courage aka Jack Daniels. I swear that stuff turned the Mother Marys to playboy bunnies in less than an hour. I'm always amazed by how quickly the Bible Humpers lose their religions somewhere inside bottles of Patron. All I'm saying is if the more you drink the shorter your dress gets; put down the tequila honey. Then again, who am I to judge, I won't be gracing the covers of Church Monthly anytime soon.

    As I walk by I am greeted by the usual males that had more blood directed to their small sized pants than their even smaller brains. They did their classic catcalls and whistles, with the borderline creepy stares. Lord knows what is going on through their heads. I couldn't blame them though, I am a sight for sore eyes. As much as I would love to entertain the little boys, I am looking for someone in particular. Now I am not the tallest girl and this crowd is blessed with small giants. As I am craning my neck over the crowd, I feel a set of arms snake around me from behind. Now only one person is brave, or stupid, depending on which you prefer, enough to do that.

    "Hey babe." Speak of the devil and he shall appear.  His breath smelled like sins. I could feel my gag reflexes kicking in. It took a lot in me not to bathe him in holy water. I have about three shots of tequila in me and we need to get it over with before I start thinking. Lord knows  I really need to not think for a little while. Confession: I hate the way his arms feel around me

    "Hey you," I flirted, "Where have you been? I have been looking for you all night." I'm getting way too good at this charade.  

     "I missed you." I pouted my red stained lips as I looked up him. I saw his gorgeous green eyes zone on my mouth and sparkle, I already knew the thoughts that were running in his head and they weren't sanctified ones. That's why he's my favorite play thing. Just a few words and pout and he's already where I want him. He is way too easy.

    "Really? Huh, is that the ONLY reason you're looking for me?" He whispered almost breathlessly, as he started kissing up my neck. 

    He cut right through our little banter. I sometimes enjoy our word play. Right now though I do not mind one bit. This boy might be the spawn of Satan, but damn does he have a set of lips on him. That's not surprising since he's a 6'2, broad shouldered football quarterback. And do not get me started on that body. God had no mercy when he sculpted this boy out of stone and to top it all off he had wavy brown locks. Honestly, with him being attractive, and a great lay made it easier for me to stand him.

    He continues to kiss my neck while his hands move up and down my curves. A small moan escaped my lips and I felt his smirk against my neck. He had reached his destination. He started to nibble on that beautiful spot between my neck and collarbone, and he showed me no mercy. And for a moment, I forget how repulsive he is to me. He was sending me to overdrive, and like autopilot, I find myself facing him. Somewhere between love bites and kisses, we end up walking towards one of the rooms in this huge house. A giant screen TV on the wall and what looked like a queen sized bed covered with a simple black duvet. The walls were a vibrant red, with pure white carpet. I wasn't sure whose room this was but, I couldn't be bothered with that because I currently have a hot guy touching me in places my mother would not approve of. Or maybe she would.