britt blair

“Rachel?” I asked. Yes, that was right. The amazing blonde who I'd watched sitting at the bar, turning away attempts to chat her up all night. But when I'd gone over to refresh my drink, she'd asked my name, had wanted me to sit with her. To give her a break from the guys trying to hit on her, she'd said. “You... you spiked my drink! What did you give me?”

“That’s it! You are disqualified from the tournament!”“Fine by me, just make sure it goes on the record that this is his loss, understand?” The ref was silent. “Understand? I don’t care about the next match, just so long as I am the winner of this one. So go ahead and say it. I want to hear you say it.”

The next Saturday night looked to follow the same as the others, but even as Sarah awoke just after midnight there was a greater urgency. Perhaps it was the fact that without school that day she had been lazing around for most of it, or perhaps the fact that her nightly drinks weren’t enough to satiate her anymore. As usual Sarah strode in through the open door of her father’s room, not bothering to tiptoe anymore knowing it wasn’t necessary. With a gentle flick the sheets of her father’s bed came sliding off and fell to the floor. Sarah crawled like a cat onto the bed, she had stopped wearing clothes a few nights before and her modest bosom grazed the top of his legs as she made her way up to her usual spot.