The Real Bully

The Girl

On her 21st birthday, Anne decided to set everything aside—her stressful job, her overprotective boyfriend, her endless pile of school work and grad school applications—and let loose with her 3 best friends. They went to a fancy night club in thin dresses, dark lipstick and hair curled like soft ribbons, giddy and carefree. They guzzled tequila, sashaying drunkenly through the club to the fast paced music, twirling around the bartender and other college students, and laughing as their mouths formed sentences that weren't really sentences but rather words strung together in nonsensical manners.

"Watch this!" Anne squealed, and she jumped into a cage, climbing the sides of the walls and flashing the tops of her breasts at her friends and the interested crowd. Her fingers slipped and she tripped over herself, collapsing into a stranger's arms.

"You should be careful," the man whispered, a hint of a chuckle mixed with concern. He slowly brushed Anne's bangs out of her drunken red eyes. Anne gazed back intently at him—his soft blond hair, a dimple in his left cheek, piercing blue eyes, a hint of facial hair—and noticed the strong arm muscles that flexed against her bare back.

"You...you caught me," she whispered back, thankfully. Her friends disappeared, returning to the chaotic dance floor and leaving Anne alone with this mysterious yet enticing man. And then the club faded and only she and the man existed, him holding her up and she staring into his deep, deep blue ocean eyes.

He carried her to a booth in a quieter part of the club and politely offered to buy her a drink. Anne smiled, watching how his button down stretched over his muscles as he walked. He returned quickly, a smile lighting up his face. "So what do you study?" he inquired.

Forgetting her friends, Anne began speaking—describing her political science classes and desire to become a lawyer. She talked about her participation in Student Government and Model UN, her conservative political beliefs, and how she liked to paint in her free time. Meanwhile, the man nodded, his grin amplifying the dimple that made Anne's insides melt.

"Tonight was just...my break before going back to work!" Anne said, nuzzling into the man and sipping from the drink. God, it tasted good. "I just needed some time off..."

"Well I could give you a relaxing night..." the man murmured seductively in her ear.

"Oh yeah?"

"Come home with me, Anne. You know you want to," he teased. He tickled Anne's sides, causing her to giggle and lean even closer into him.

"Maybe...I should probably tell my..." Anne began, her blurred vision searching for the friends she suddenly realized had left her a while ago.

"Anne, please." The man started kissing her neck and Anne moaned softly. "I really like you. You're smart, interesting, funny. Just give me one night..." He trailed the kisses down her neck, stopping at her collarbone. "And I promise you won't regret it."

"Oh, alright," Anne agreed, forgetting her friends. She would send them a quick text later and everything would work out.

The man took her hand and led her to a black car outside. Her buckled her seat belt for her, slowly caressing her hips as he did so. Then he asked her what music she listened to—Paramore, she replied enthusiastically—and together they sang along on the way home. Occasionally, he would throw a loving look her way, reassuring her that she was special, perfect, and preparing her for the best night of her life. He parked the car and took her hand once more, leading her upstairs to a secluded but expensive apartment.

"W-what's in that room?" Anne asked, pointing to a closed door down the hall with blue light seeping out from under it. She felt the effects of the alcohol consuming her, eating away at her senses and turning up the notch on her libido.