Nature of the Experiment

I watched the girl as she laughed and flipped her hair. Her black dress was pulled down to reveal much more than her parents would allow, and it was so short that I was almost scared to see what would happen when she sat down.

Who am I kidding? I’d enjoy whatever would happen.

“Oh, Mike,” she cooed, fingers trailing up and down my jacket. “You’re just the funniest thing.”

My friends glared at me. So far, they had had no luck with the ladies.

The girl—Cindy, or Lindsey (or Sydney, maybe?)—winked at me, her blue eyes covered with makeup. Her full pink lips were tantalizing. “You wanna get away from here?” she asked seductively.

I grinned. “Sure, babe, but you know, I can’t leave my friends unhappy like this.” I nodded my head in their direction and winced.

She smirked. “Oh, don’t worry. They’ll be taken care of.” She turned and motioned to someone behind her. Three girls, just as gorgeous as she was, approached my friends.

The girl turned back to me, eyebrows raised.

I smirked and got up out of my seat. “Where do you wanna go?”

“My place.” She grabbed my hand and led me outside. We caught a taxi and she gave the driver her address. The streetlights blurred together as the alcohol buzzed in my head. She began kissing me, mouth open, hot breath wafting into my mouth. I could taste the alcohol on her tongue. The taxi stopped, and we got out. We got into the elevator and I pushed her up against the wall and kissed her. The doors opened. We ran down the corridor to her room, and as she was unlocking it, I was already unzipping her dress.

In a flash, we were in. The night followed like most nights did. The shoes were off. The dress was down. My clothes were soon strewn about the room. Off came the undergarments. On came the protection. Soon I was in her; no time for foreplay. We rocked back and forth to our own rhythm, moaning and groaning as our goal for the night was fulfilled. When it was over, she laid back down in her bed, covered in sweat. I took a few seconds to breathe before getting up and dressing. I bade her farewell and closed the door behind me.

As I exited the apartment complex, I pondered my night. The girl had been better than the one from the night before. I made a mental note to check back in with her in a few months.

I hailed a taxi and gave the cabbie my address. I arrived home fairly quickly; I decided to take the stairs up to my apartment and unlocked the door in a still slightly-drunken state. I stumbled into my apartment, locking the door behind me. I stripped as I made my way to the bathroom. I turned on the shower and stepped into the burning water. It relaxed me, and I sighed out loud.

As I showered, I thought about my life. I had it all—the job, the friends, and most importantly, the sex. Oh, the sex.

But lately, they had been easier than usual—and I had to admit, I was getting bored.

Bored with sex? I mentally kicked myself. Oh, please.

I walked into my living room, towel wrapped around my waist, picking up the trail of clothing I had left behind. I threw it into my hamper and continued to my room. I passed by the calendar that hung on my wall, throwing a glance at it. I did a double take and backed up once I saw that the following days was my sister’s birthday party. “Shit,” I moaned. I stumbled over to my bed and face-planted onto it. I almost immediately fell asleep.

--

“Brittany!” I yelled, and greeted my sister with a huge hug.

“Mike!” she screamed, and hugged me back. “I’ve missed you so freaking much!” She ruffled my brown hair. “Wow, did you finally get taller?”

I stuck my tongue out at her.

For some reason, whenever we were around each other, our maturity level was rendered to that of ten-year olds.

“So, you’re finally twenty-one.” I grinned. “Welcome to the club.”

She rolled her eyes. “You joke, but you’ll die three years before I do.”

I laughed. “Just because I’m three years older doesn’t mean I’ll die three years before you.”

“That’s what you think.” Britt winked. “Anyways, have fun. Go mingle.” She gestured to the hundred-or so people behind her.

I hugged her once more and checked out the crowd. Once I some friends, I scoped for some girls. So what if it was my sister’s party? Didn’t mean I couldn’t be happy, too. I scanned the crowds, judging these girls in my head—too fat, too skinny, too short, too tall, she’s okay, etc.

I’m well aware of the fact that I am a pig. Please move on.

I was about to give up and go for some random girl, when I saw her. I didn’t know her name, but I can assure you, I wanted to. She had red hair, delicately curled into little loose ringlets, and bangs straight across. She was pale, long-legged, and I really wanted to go up to her to see if her eyes were green, like I suspected. One of my friends noticed my stare and nudged me. “Eh? She’s fine. Go for it.”

And I did. I left the counter I had been leaning against and made my way through the throngs of people towards her.

“Hi, excuse me.” I touched her arm, and she turned around. Her sparkling emerald eyes instantly hypnotized me, and I congratulated myself on correctly guessing the color of her eyes.

“Hi?”

“I’m Mike. Mike Thompson.” I gave her my best smile.

She cocked her head to the side. Oh God. Her face held such an innocent expression that I froze. “Thompson. You related to Brittany?”

I nodded. “That nutcase is my sister.”

The girl laughed. A real laugh. It was good to hear one of those from a girl, instead of the fake or drunken giggles. “I’m Karen.”

“Karen?” I prompted.

“Smith.”

“Karen Smith.” I tasted the words. I smiled at her. “Nice name.”

Things were looking like normal—it looked easy. Like I had it all in the bag.

I had mixed emotions over it, but, hey, sex is sex.

However, it soon became clear that Karen wasn’t another whore. She didn’t have a drop of alcohol, and she rebuffed the advances of many guys through the night. I played it safe and continued to just talk to her. At the end of the night, I asked her out. Saying the words “Will you go out with me?” reminded me back when I used to date.

God, I hated those days, and here I was, making an ass of myself.

Surprisingly, however, she flashed me a smile and said, “Sure!”

I was doomed.

--

The next day, I was getting nervous. I felt like an idiot, but I hadn’t gone on a proper date in a really long time.

I had made plans to pick Karen up at six. I spent the day doing nothing, waiting for four to roll around so I could get ready.

And boy, did I get ready. I made sure to clean myself up well, shave nicely, put deodorant on (twice. Like I said, I was nervous), and brush my hair. I put on nice slacks, black shoes, and a blue button down shirt that went well with my eyes.

I took a deep breath as I locked my door. It had turned out that Karen lived a couple of buildings down from me, so I arrived at her door in just a few minutes. I rapped on the door with my knuckles and stepped back, taking deep breaths to steady myself.

When she opened the door, I almost collapsed. She looked gorgeous. Karen smiled that gorgeous smile and asked, “You ready?”

“Yeah.” I smiled, even though I was lying.

But that’s just the nature of the experiment.