Well, that made as much sense as anything, and it wouldn't be the first time. Was it pictures of his father on her phone, hints about his pedigree and prospects, or did she tell the stupid cape lie again?

A million different denials, scathing shutdowns, and benign excuses died on his tongue when the girl finally came to a stop in front of him.

Her smile evened out when he continued ignoring her. She craned her head this way and that to try and get him to look back before giving up with a little pout. Against his better judgement, he finally turned toward her in acknowledgement. He studied a smattering of freckles around her nose that seemed to glow.

"Hey. I haven't seen you around these things before. Do you know Cadence or something?"

"No," he replied, "Ruth brought me." As if she didn't know.

"Oh!" Her eyes lit up and he nearly made contact with them, but the effect it had on her smile was also difficult to look at directly. He was trapped. "She's so nice. I haven't spoken to her much, but we end up at a lot of the same parties. I'm Emma, by the way." She extended her hand and he took it on reflex in a brief, curt shake.

"Is that so," he said, and if she noticed his incredulity it didn't show. Was he wrong about her, or was she just really good at this? "It's my first time attending... one of these."

"I know what you mean," she leaned in, her voice quieter despite an increase in enthusiasm. "I hate slumming it, but you've gotta keep up connections somehow, right? It's one thing to stay in touch with the kinds of people I meet while modeling, but I also need to make appearances with the people I got to school with. It's really tiring." Her eyes traveled up and down his outfit before she finally leaned back.

Any doubts that she knew about his... upbringing died then. She was working an angle, sizing him up for a feast. It didn't mean she was lying, per se, but she was definitely leaning on the elitism to try and make inroads with him. It was his first chance at something normal, away from his family, but here he was: wasting it. Not only that, but someone was trying to take advantage of him.

"Say," the redhead stepped closer, putting a hand on his arm, "I didn't catch your name...?"

"Yeah."

"C'mon, don't be like that! Let's see... Vince, maybe?" She considered his expression for a moment before bringing a finger to her chin. "No, not a Vince. Alexander? Seth? Robert? Teddy?"

Whatever reaction he gave, she caught immediately, pushing herself closer and placing a hand on his chest. She was nearly bouncing.

"I prefer Theo," he sighed. She wasn't going to go away. He was trapped between her and the wall.

"Aww, but Teddy is a such a cute name," his admission of defeat gave her even more energy, and her words didn't match her tone. "It really suits you, too."

Was that a fat joke? She was giving up all pretenses and just assuming he'd do whatever she wanted, now.

"It was a compliment, jeez."

"Sure it was, matchstick."

"Holy shit, there's a person in there," she said in mock surprise before laughing at her own joke. "Finally. Maybe now we can have an actual conversation. I've been so bored since my friend ditched me."

"Yeah, I know how much that sucks." Ruth was still nowhere to be seen.

"Oh my god, right? At least mine had a decent excuse. Ruth's been bouncing from guy to guy all night. Pretty messed up... oh god, I didn't even... you aren't, like, in to her, are you?"

Theo tried to hold back his laugh but snorted instead, then laughed anyway. He had to wipe away tears when he was finished. Emma just regarded him patiently until he was done, matching him with a smile.

"I'll take that as a no, then."

"Nope. I've known Ruth for too long — and know too much about her — to think of her that way. She's a... family friend."

"Ooh. Well, that sounds like a `later' story. I look forward to squeezing it out of you." She took the forgotten cup out of his hand, setting it down, before pulling him away from the wall. "But now, Teddy, we dance."

Like before, the denials died in his throat. There was something refreshing about a person whose intentions were known and predictable. Was it still manipulation if he knew in advance? Was he the scumbag if he knew she would be expecting some connection or favor in the future but had no intention of delivering?

He stopped thinking about it when they mixed with the other dances and she began to move against him.

Theo still didn't recognize the music. He knew several dances. He wasn't good at them, but he knew them. None of those really helped here, and neither did turning to the guys around him. He'd be hard pressed to call what they were doing dancing, and that was without counting those that were obviously drunk and stumbling.

So he kept it simple, swaying and bobbing and working in a move or two when it seemed appropriate. No one stopped and stared or laughed at any point he could tell, and Emma never missed a beat or gave an odd look. She did most of the moving, anyway, and most of that amounted to grinding on him.

It was starting to have the expected effect on him, and she definitely noticed. She stuck even closer to him, ass in his crotch and wrapping his own hands around herself. She guided them over her body for a bit before he took over, groping and pawing at the flesh under her dress. He'd expected her to recoil or pull away at any moment to admonish him, but she just grew more enthusiastic.

"I'm glad you're having as much fun as I am," she said during a slow build in the music. It seemed to do this a lot; evening out to a low, steady beat before building up to some raucous chorus.

"Yeah," he was speaking before he realized it, "me too." There wasn't going to be a better opportunity, and he wasn't sure he could make it through another session like that. "But do you want to go somewhere a little quieter?"

"Sure," Emma said, surprising him.

One foot in front of the other led them to an unoccupied bedroom. Theo wasn't sure how he'd found it or how it could possibly be empty this late in the party, but he was not going to argue. With a gesture, Emma entered first and made her way to the bed. From the doorway, he admired her as she went; her posture and gait seeming to gain confidence and allure once she'd passed him. She spun around and fell back on to the bed, barely holding herself up with arms behind her. She looked back at him and waited.

There was no one else in the hallway, no one to stop him or even see who he was with. The music was loud again around the corner, more bass and vibration now than lyrics or rhythm.

"Well?" She asked, and he jumped a bit at the sound. There was some lit to the tone, but he couldn't tell if it was mocking or nervous. He thought she looked more nervous, now, though.

"Yeah, sorry." The apology came easily, and he nearly cursed himself out loud immediately after. He'd made it this far, somehow, and he'd need to keep up some faГade of confidence if he was going to finish it. He stepped in to the room and closed the door behind him, hand pausing halfway to the wall before coming back down. There was just enough light coming in from the cracks to keep from tripping; it was probably for the best to leave them off. She didn't object.

He approached steadily and sat down next to her. Their thighs were touching slightly, and he had to fight the urge to slide away. It didn't seem to bother her, since she sat up and put her shoulder to his. They were fairly close in height when she didn't have the advantage her heels gave her. They gave her other advantages too, and the silence dragged on between them while the thought of them provided an easy distraction.

"Um," she spoke quiet and close, breaking the spell.

"Sorry," he repeated, instantly clenching his fists in response to his mouth's betrayal.

The motion brushed his hand against her leg and she leaned closer, putting a hand around his waist. He did the same before he could think better of it, and a small breath escaped her, tickling his neck. She kept getting closer somehow, even though they'd started sitting as close as he could imagine getting.

His hand ran up and down her side while she brought one of hers to his chest. Her dress was so tight on her slight frame that it could hardly wrinkle under his touch. His shirt, however tailored it was, rolled and bunched as she explored. It needed to be loose enough to give any kind of illusion he might be a decent shape. Leaving the lights off had been the best decision, even if it meant he didn't get to see much of her.

He turned to try and see what he could, but found her leaning over to meet him.

As first kisses went, it probably could have been worse. Her smell filled his nose, and it was a sweet but understated mix of fruity shampoo, a dab of inoffensive perfume, and just a hint of perspiration from their dancing. He became acutely aware of his own sweat, but it was too late to worry about that.

Emma started to pull back, and he worried maybe he had bad breath or something on top of everything else, but she reversed almost as quick. The kiss resumed as she pulled him closer with a fistful of his shirt. He somehow picked up on the signal and opened his mouth to hers, tongues coming together.

They laid the rest of the way down on the bed, still clutching at each other and continuing the kiss. He found himself partway on top, pushing down on her as much as she was pulling. Her tits filled his hands completely, marking their size. Like the kiss, he didn't have any other experiences to compare it to, but playing with them was every bit as fun as he'd imagined. She pushed herself into his grip as he did so, wiggling beneath him. Certain touches and motions changed the deepness of her breathing, though he wasn't sure what was doing it. Before he could figure it out, her motion distracted him.

Her hands came down to his sides, grabbing handfuls of his paunch and making him jump. She quickly changed it to a caress. It didn't feel any less humiliating, but it slowly turned into an insistent tugging that pulled his dress shirt free from his belt. It wasn't as easy as it should have been to ignore the urge to stop her and keep covered, but trying to work her own dress off helped.

The thing was tight enough on her that it wouldn't just slip over her shoulders at first, but he pulled harder and it eventually gave. He kept going, and eventually it was below her chest. His eyes had adjusted to the darkness some, and the contrast of her bright pink nipples against the rest of her white flesh froze him in place.

While he stared, Emma finished with his belt and began working his pants down. Before he realized what was happening, she had her hand in his boxers and grabbed a handful of her own.

"Holy shit that's cold!"

She barked out a laugh before she caught herself, putting her other hand on his shoulder and slapping it lightly. The frigid claw on his dick began a slow, steady stroking, light with the occasional squeeze.

"Sorry, sorry," she said evenly, thought there was still some laughter framing the words, "but don't worry. I can fix that."

It was hard to believe it wasn't on purpose with how much she seemed to enjoy his discomfort. Trying to ignore it and enjoy himself, he went back to exploring her body. It was hard to tell, but he could swear her tits were smaller naked. They filled his hands comfortably anyway, and her own grip on him became a bit more frantic when he started rolling her nipples between his fingers.

The hand around his dick had quickly warmed up and the strokes were pulling his attention away from her chest more and more. He redoubled his efforts, their bodies bucked and moved against each other earnestly. Her free hand came up and took hold of one of his, and he felt her stealing his warmth. At the same time her mouth sought him out. He tried to replicate some of the things she was doing with her tongue, and she seemed to respond positively.

The hand holding his took it down to the bottom of her dress. She let go of him long enough to work the hem of the dress up around her waist, something she did quite easily, before taking hold again. Using his hand as a tool, she rubbed herself over her panties. After a few examples, her hand came away and left him to continue on his own. While he concentrated on that, he felt her moving around oddly beneath him.

He worked at her covered sex with his hand for several long moments. The entire time she continued doing whatever she was doing and didn't seem to react to him at all. He was about to ask her what the hell she was doing when her absent hand came back into play. It joined her other around his penis, pressing something to the tip before starting to roll it — oh. That's probably a good idea.

"Don't stop, you were doing good."

How was he supposed to fucking know that? He put his hand back into motion with a repressed growl before clamping his mouth down on a nipple. He didn't quite bite, but he wasn't gentle. That got him a little coo and a shiver, causing her to pause in unrolling the condom and squeeze him tight.

She finished stretching the condom over him as he sucked and stroked her. One of her hands teased and circled the tip while the other began tweaking her bare nipple. More sighs and shivers escaped her, and each one drove him on to be a little rougher.

When he finally full-on bit her, she yelped and bucked, suddenly throwing her hands around his head and hugging him to her. There had been a noticeable dampness building under her panties while he'd been rubbing her, but now the scent jabbed at him and his fingers were wet.

"Alright," she all but whispered, "fuck me."

The words bore into him, and he didn't need any further instruction. Theo took himself in one hand while supporting himself in the other. Emma adjusted her position a little, propped up on a pillow, and pulled her underwear to the side.

He rubbed himself on her for a bit. It was something he'd seen in porn before; though he wasn't sure what it was supposed to accomplish. It didn't really feel like much to him compared to what they'd been doing, and he doubted it did much for her. However, it did disguise his amateur fumbling and buy him time to properly line things up. He hoped.

He felt a bit of give and pushed hard. He sank into her, letting out a moan in time with Emma's own. For any other girl he might have worried he'd hurt her. She said nothing though, as he pulled almost all the way out before pushing back in just as hard.

She clamped down on his arms with her hands, nails digging in as he kept up the staccato motion. With each thrust he tried to lift her up off the bed, tried to pin her back up against the headboard, before pulling back and going again. Each time she cried out, at him and setting herself back down to where she started.