His breath catches in his throat, half from the
sudden jerk of his collar and the other to the
abrupt close proximity of the blonde-- whom he,
by the way, didn't even know the name of. Oh,
if he'd known he'd have such an encounter, he
would have worn something that didn't scream
'I’ve had this sweater since i was eighteen' with
it's faded colours and jagged hems. The whole
pull of his sweater would have had him choking
on his sucker; if it weren't for the fact that it had
slipped out of his mouth from her force he may
have actually died.
He clicks his tongue, staring at his fallen candy.
❝Such a derogatory label for yourself.
It’s about time to stray yourself from society's stereotypes, innit?
C'mon now, say it with me, not all strippers are sluts.❞
His hands move to instinctively rub at his nape,
but is quickly brushed off when he feels her hands
release his sweater to ring around his neck. At
this point, he's got no where else to look but at
her; not at the ground, or the street behind her.
While her blue hues, seemingly lustful and
mischievous, bore into him, his green eyes carried
confusion and surprise. He heaves a sigh, one that
makes his stress of the whole situation audible.
❝Guessin’ you're a pretty straight forward gal, huh?❞ He starts,
❝Some dudes like that in a girl and admittedly I do too.
Now, I appreciate your... offer,❞
—— Was it right to call it an offer?
❝But how 'bout we hold off the fun for another time--
say, when we're not out in the open and in the
middle of the day.
Exhibitionism is exciting and all but not so much
fun when you're caught. Believe me,
I’ve had to learn my lesson through the hard way. ❞
It wasn’t like he didn’t want to take what she’s giving,
the back of his mind shouting ‘do it, do it!’, he much
more prefers to keep his business behind closed doors.
Not between buildings.
