Beg for Your Love -wlw-

II

(Underage drinking, drug use, sexual references, smoking)

Metal Man was awesome. The music was loud, lights flashed, people were getting "undressed" together in the corner, people shooting drugs, sniffing lines, stuff like that. More of a rave than a concert.
I have to admit, I was sixteen and I got hammered. But who really cares? No complete adults in their ages of 25 were there.
When I was getting off a barstool by the bar of course I bumped into someone slightly familiar. My drink spilled on their shirt and mine, but mainly theirs.
"Shit." the person spoke, their English accent sticking out like a sore thumb especially with the music blasting. It was Nala Evergreen, the towns golden girl.
At a heavy rock concert.
I couldn't help but stare at her boobs that were slightly visible through her black laced bra under her cropped tank top.
"Aren't you the trouble maker? The one having people get stitched up?" she said tapping my chin to make me look up. Her hair was half up and a curly strand of hair to the side of her head. Cargo pants that revealed slightly toned abs and v cut. And of course the now soaked crop-top tank top with ripped edges.
"Trouble maker? Darling, I'm the one who ends it." I respond, my plain -but raspy- accent showing blandness.
"Don't call me that. Plus if you're as 'tough' as you show yourself to be you wouldn't be so off guard to my chest."
"Oh, 'ha ha,' doesn't being daughter of the mayor rule for you to not go to almost illegal parties?"
"Doesn't being a cop's daughter always in the station rule for you to not be here also?"
Well, shit. She got me. I couldn't help but stare at her and laugh. I gotta admit, it did shut me up, even if it wasn't so offensive.
"He's not my dad." I finally responded, leaning back on the counter.
"Legally he is."
"I didn't come from his sack." There was a short but definite pause in the conversation. She crossed her arms.
"Why don't you still just come and listen to the music with me?" she asked, analyzing my face . . . and my body.
I sighed, "Sure." her mouth formed a small smile. She grabbed my arm and dragged my to the crowd. Not the most pit, but a slightly calmer area. We danced the rest of the concert.

***

"So what does the mayor's daughter do for fun?" I asked, sitting down on a bench in a nearby park, grabbing out some cigarettes. I was drunk still, she was only buzzed.
"Why do you wanna know?" she asked, smiling and looking at me.
"Curious."
"I draw and write. Ya know just because I'm always 'Little Miss Perfect' doesn't mean I don't do things that are fun."
"I know. Not everyone is boring. Unless its my stepdick." I laughed and smoked the cigarette. She stared at it.
"Can I have one?"
"Pardon? You want a cigarette?" I stared.
"Duh, doofus. Give me one." I paused and reached in my pocket, grabbing the pack and putting one out slightly, she took it. "So, you into girls?"
"Why?" I asked.
"Curious." she said, like I did. She smiled and lit the cigarette.
"That's a familiar word," I chuckled, "Uh, yeah . . . I am." The conversation paused.
"Cool. Well, it's like three in the morning. I got to go." She said staring down at her watch.
"Are you free tomorrow?" I asked, grabbing her arm so she couldn't walk away.
"It's what . . . Sunday tomorrow?"
"Yeah." I toppled off of the table, almost falling.
"Yup, I'm free."
"Great! I'll pick you up at 1?"
"You know where I live?"
"You're the mayor's daughter?" I responded, smiling at her. She nodded and walked away. I stared at her ass, gotta admit, no shame.

(Okay, this was shorter than I thought, but next chapter will have slight smut! Hope you enjoyed the read!)