I was sitting in the middle of Max’s living room. I had gone to the bathroom for a minute to freshen up; when I returned to the living room of his small apartment near the campus of FSU, Barry White was pulsing from the stereo, and Max had lit some tall red tapered candles on the coffee table. A typical romantic mood setting cliché.
Poor Max was trying so hard to get in my pants. We had just met a few hours ago at a kegger. Max was an average looking guy, about 5″9, short brown hair, and kind of skinny. He had convinced me to come up to his apartment around 2:00 this morning; the party we had just left was getting loud and out of control, and we could barely hear our own voices.
He was probably thinking “Please, God, I hope I get lucky. I’m really horny and want to score tonight, but I always strike out.” We had already made out a bit at the party, and I could clearly see the bulge in his jeans. He wanted me so badly…but probably thought he wouldn’t get much further than second base.
Boy was he wrong!