soaked -:- d!ddy mgc [cs]

3: victoria's secret and food court bathrooms

[snapback, sunglasses michael got me feeling some type a waY. im crying but not from my eYES]

Days passed, then a month, and then another, and at that point Michael and Mara assumed they had seen the last of each other. Michael stopped looking for her face in crowds and Mara's tense watch for a head of unruley blue hair eventually faded in a mere few days, the one thing the pair had in common was they weren't the type to easily give a fûck, and at times like these, it was paying off.

On a Sunday afternoon, most guys don't spend their time in a Victoria's Secret, but most guys don't plan on hooking up with Ashlyn Gold the day of the huge annual sale, so there Michael was: hung-over and horny in a store dedicated to lingerie and boobs.

Now let's just get this straight, Michael didn't want to be enswarmed by teenage girls fighting for the last pair of yoga pants, I mean he didn't mind wandering through the dressing rooms every once and a while to help 'size' a girl or five, but Ashlyn charged a demi bra for 3 handy-blow job combos, and since it was a sale, the pale boy figured he would take advantage of the discounted rate and get the expierence over with.

Slumped againist a display rack, Michael mindlessly scrolled through his phone, a familiar manicured hand slapping his arm to turn his attention up. Ashlyn, or as she prefered people to call her 'Ashy', held up neon bras to her tanned skin, giving a hard stare as his eyes wandered her cluelessly for a moment. "Should I get the pink or the green?"

Eyes widening a tad, the blue haired boy took his lip between teeth, grimacing at the gaudy choices and tempted to say neither. "Why do they have to be so bright like-"

"Jizz fades into the neon, duh.", the dark haired girl groaned, rolling eyes and clicking tongue obnoxiously, showcasing her annoyance.

Her stilettos tapping away as she searched for a sales assistant to give an actual opinion, Michael took a gaze at all around him and cringed at the high voices chattering annoyingly loud, the girls poking and proding at each other. Slipping out the entrance, the green eyed boy managed to duck out unnoticed. Taking a seat at the metal bench fashioned right in front of the store's window, he ran hands over the stubble sprinkling his face, giving an exasperated sigh. "This is why I have a dîck."

Getting lost in the multiple figures that passed by, a stumbling girl caught his eye, tripping slightly over the metal underlying of the doorway. Frazzled, she ran hands over her uniform, readjusting casually, but to Michael it was so much more. Eyes landing on an ass he could never forget, and swooping curves, and dark curls, he felt it in his dîck that he just had a run in with destiny because it was of all people, the girl responsible for giving one hell of blowjob, Mara.

"Fûcking jackpot." A smirk curving across scarlet lips, wordlessly he got to his feet and made a sharp turn in the direction she was heading, not really sure of what his intentions were but knowing they were ranging from getting digits for future booty call material to resolving the tightness in his pants.

Now Mara just walked on of course, she didn't see Michael and even if she did, it wasn't certain if she would acknowledge the familar hookup with fûckboy tendencies. The only thing on the short girl's mind was food court chinese, her hunger and overwhelming stress from working in customer service during a sale caught up to her similar to the way Michael was following behind unnoticabley.

Shuffling in the migrating crowd, dodging strollers and couples more focused on eating each other's faces then the obvious obstruction in the flow of walking they were causing, the smell of cinnamon and grease filled nostrils as a corner was turned and behold: eateries of every sort. Eyes trained on the pale girl despite the rather rambuncious crowd, with her Michael swerved, and turned, and back tracked a tad only to come to a halt in front of P.F Chang Express. The tension in her shoulders evidently releasing, patiently they stood in line, an old woman being the only thing standing between the two, unbeknowingst to Mara but almost maddening to Michael who at this point could be diagnoised with restless leg syndrome at the rate his foot was tapping. A few minutes passed before the dark haired girl gave a warming smile and rambled off her order, picking up her dish quickly and sliding into a lone booth, not focused on the rambling around her but the tanginess of orange chicken on her tongue.