the offer itself is relatively inconspicuous--- come outside for a smoke, that’s all. with four flutes of champagne already settling themselves into her system, the promise of privacy and cigarettes didn’t involve much swaying. skulking out the back entrance with a relative stranger - a frat boy, she knew, but could only place him with the heavy scent of cologne he bathed himself in. the cigarette hangs from his lips, but he’s certainly not sharing; large hands indulgently travel along her curves, a slurring mouth whining for a peek of what’s underneath. it dawns on stella that this isn’t fun anymore, and her defense immediately goes up. “put away the claws, kitten,” he snaps, only stirring her ire and provoking the rough shoves against his chest. the actions are futile, and it’s only when a back door swings open that she clings to any hope of escape. ( @jsperblck )
