Timber did as she was told though she was tired. Jeanine had come over at nine that morning and the two girls had worked diligently on the ballet basics Timber had forgotten during her two year hiatus. After an hour of that, they went to jazz, working for quite some time before moving on to pointe. Timber, clad in a black, spaghetti-strapped leotard, pink tights, and black legwarmers was nearly drenched in sweat, her legs shaking as she tried to stay on point in fifth position with her legs tucked together, straight out underneath her. Her arms arced elegantly in the air, her back straight. Jeanine sat on the steps, sporadically taking a swig out of her Evian water bottle to stay hydrated. She had a similar black leotard on, but with grey sweat-shorts over the bottom half. The feet of her pink ballet tights had been chopped off so they ended at her mid calf. She too donned very worn in pink-satin pointe shoes, contrasting Timber's new ones, because Jeanine had danced on hers religiously for the past few months. Her wavy hair was swept up in a high ponytail to stay off her shoulders, the tiny wisps at the back of her neck sticking to her skin with perspiration.
"Shit." Timber cursed flatly, as her sore feet gave out and she came down from relevé. "I always sucked at pointe." She commented.
"You only did it for half a year anyways Timber, don't get down on yourself." Jeanine coached, standing up from her seat on the third step and stepping down to join her friend in the foyer of her home. "Try building up your legs. You need to get back into eating right Tim, your legs are too thin." She commented, circling around her friend as Timber went back up onto pointe. "That's enough pointe for today, you'll hurt your feet if you don't go into it slowly."
"Yeah, well, I want to be good." Timber mumbled, raising her arms back into an oval over her head and going onto her toes once more. "I can't go into a class sucking."
"Yes you can. That's the point of a class, they help you get better." Jeanine smirked, stretching out her legs by bending over to touch her toes. Her palms settled with ease against the marble floor while her legs were completely straight.
"Yeah." Timber responded blandly, her eyes trained forward.
"Wanna grab a bite to eat Tim? It's already twelve-forty. We're going shopping at one and I have to run home and shower." She suggested.
"Who's going?" Timber asked, doing the same to stretch. She couldn't yet flatten her palms against the floor like her friend could, but she was close.
"Kelly isn't going anymore; she claims to have a hangover, which I don't doubt. Carmen isn't going either. She also says she has a hangover, but I bet she just wants to try to coerce Bob into having sex with her." Jeanine chuckled. "So it's just you, me, Angie, and Clint."
Timber grinned. "Okay." She agreed.
"Timber! Quit already!" Jeanine laughed as her friend attempted to perfect her relevé once more. She went to the steps and began to untie the ribbons on her toe shoes. "We've been dancing for over three hours!"
"Fuck!" Timber shouted, her perfect position faltering when her foot twisted awkwardly and she landed on her heels.
"See! I told you! You almost broke your foot there!" Jeanine gloated. "I'm going home to shower, change, and get some lunch! You should get some lunch now too, aren't you famished?" she asked. "I think I just burned like nine hundred calories."
"I'm not that hungry." Timber replied, finally giving up and beginning to untie her toe shoes. The second toe on her right food was scraped after being chaffed by the toe pad inside the dance shoe. There was a small spot of blood on the pale colored wool.
"How can you not be hungry?" Jeanine asked, suddenly concerned. "Timber, I think you should eat something, right now. You're going to be too skinny to dance. I mean, look at your legs."
Timber looked up. "Chill Jen." She laughed. "I ate a huge breakfast, like four bowls of Cheerios."
"You've lost weight, incase you think I can't tell." Jeanine commented carefully, touching upon a silenced issue.
"What are you talking about?" Timber demanded. "You're just like my dad! He's always bitching about how I look like I've lost weight! I'm the same weight I've been since I stopped growing! In fact, I want to gain weight! Maybe it'll go to my boobs!" she exclaimed emphatically.
Jeanine cracked a smile. "Okay, okay. Sorry. I was overreacting. I know you're a picky eater anyways." She dismissed. "You just seem thinner from a few weeks ago, but then again, I guess you always kinda fluctuate. Maybe it's a puberty thing." She shrugged. "I always forget that you're right in the thick of things." She smirked.
"What are you doing checking me out anyways?" Timber laughed, taking off her other shoe.
"I'm just worried about you." Jeanine admitted.
"Why?" Timber asked cautiously.
Jeanine shook her head. "Nevermind. Just get something to eat before we go. Dancing is a major workout and part of the art is eating healthy. That means limited junk and three balanced meals a day along with two snacks." She rattled off, remembering what all her instructors had said in her previous years.
Timber raised an eyebrow sarcastically. "Thanks Jen for basically telling me I have a little kids body, but I think I can manage. Geez, you're like my parents when they're actually home." She smirked. "But just for your benefit, I'll get a sandwich or something after I shower."
"Thanks." Jen smirked, getting off the steps and cramming her shoes into her shoulder bag. "I'll see you in a few hon." She said briskly, heading across the foyer, barefoot with selected toes taped over to protect them from the inside of her toe shoes.
"See ya." Timber smiled, tucking her own shoes under her arm as she prepared to go upstairs and shower.
Jeanine let herself out and Timber stood idle in the middle of the foyer, waiting until she heard the tires of her friend's Jeep Cherokee speed off. She promptly dropped her armload to the floor and crouched down to put on the black slippers meant for jazz. She figured she could get in a few more minutes of practice.
* * *
Clint awoke around the hour of noon. As the sun spilled diagonally over his bedside clock, he remembered his shopping date and immediately smiled, swinging his legs out of bed and getting up.
After the usual morning piss with longevity and brushing his teeth, the second Moffatt son sauntered down the steps and went into the kitchen for a bowl of cereal. Dave was sitting at the table wolfing down Berry-Berry Kix, while Scott sat across from him, his head in his bowl and sleeping.
"'Morning." Dave smirked.
"Hey." Clint paused, looking strangely at Scott.
"Hangover." Dave whispered. "I didn't want to wake him."
Scott suddenly jarred awake with a startled groan, sitting straight up and having milk cascade down the side of his face that had been in the bowl. "Shit." He muttered, squinting as he looked at Dave. "Why didn't you wake me up?" he demanded, starting to stand up and picking his bowl up with him. His eyes remained squinted as he shuffled across the kitchen in only a pair of wrinkled bower shorts and placed his bowl in the sink.
The sun was shining brightly that afternoon and standing by the kitchen window, Clint realized that he hadn't yet seen the sky so blue that summer. There was not a single stitch of clouds in the sky, just the blank blueness of the ocean seeming to go on for miles above.
"Arghhhh!" Scott moaned, shielding his eyes with his arm. "Somebody turn the fucking sun off!"
"Morning boys." Frank smiled, prancing into the kitchen. "How was your party last night? What time did you get in?" he asked, the latter being his real inquiry.
"It was okay." Dave replied, finishing his second bowl of cereal as Clint slid into his usual seat at the table with an empty bowl.
Dave reached for the box of Kix in order to fix a third helping, but was thwarted by Clint who smiled cutely and requested his brother pore him a bowl too while he was at it.
"We left at like eleven and spent the night at Ben's." Dave continued, complying with his brother's wishes before meeting his own needs. He glanced back up at his father who was turning on the coffee maker.
"Who all spent the night at Ben's?" Frank continued to ask as he crossed the kitchen, straying from his usual itinerary of questions.
Clint and Dave exchanged a look. "Me... Clint..." Dave began. "Scott... Timber... Ben, of course, Bob... why?" he asked.
"Where did you all sleep?" their father continued, his back to his sons as he took an orange from the fruit basket on the island counter and began peeling it.
Dave once again looked at Clint, raising an eyebrow. Clint decided to respond this time. "I slept on the far end of the bed, Ben slept on the close side; I remember because I couldn't fall asleep right away and I was looking at the radio. We had to draw straws. So I won and I got the bed, and Ben won so he got it too. Then there were only two sleeping bags, so Timber and Dave got the first one and Bob had to share with Scott. But Scott kept rolling around so Bob moved to the recliner and got a horrible night's sleep, so he's sleeping now to make up for it." Clint rambled on.
"Where were the other girls?" Frank asked, continuing his attempt to peel the orange in one piece.
"Well, Kelly was sick I think." Clint replied, pushing his bowl towards Dave for him to pour the milk. "Something like that. So Jeanine, Angie, and Carm took her home. Actually, I didn't really see Carmen, but she got home." He lied, not wanting to indulge his father with the details of his friends getting drunk and high to the point of passing out.
Frank paused, leaning back against the island so he could face his sons and stroking the stubble of his chin in deep thought. He held his orange, sans the peel, in his other hand. "Do you boys think Timber's parents mind her spending the night with five boys... alone... sleeping in the same sleeping bags and such? I mean, if I had a daughter, I most certainly would not allow it."
Clint swallowed his mouthful of Kix. "Oh please Dad. Timber's parents don't care. Bob sleeps over all the time even when her mom's home. Ghinger thinks it's cool that Timber has friends that are boys and girls. I don't think she cares at all."
"Well..." Frank trailed off. "I'm just saying. The way boys are at that age... I would lock my daughter up."
"Please Dad." Dave chimed in. "Weston and Ghinger trust us. I also think they make her wear metal chastity underwear, but that's just me. They trust us though." He said shrugging. "She's one of the guys anyways." He added.
"One of the hot guys I wanna fuck, but yeah, one of the guys." Clint mumbled in order to prevent his father from hearing.
"I heard that Clint." Frank said smirking.
"Right." Clint blushed, finishing his last swallow of Kix. "I've gotta go get ready!" he said quickly, taking his bowl to the sink where Scott had successfully fallen asleep against the counter.
After setting his bowl inside, Clint smirked devilishly and screamed loudly and suddenly into Scott's ear, jarring him awake once more. Chuckling, Clint ran from the room to get dressed.
* * *
Sometime later, feeling restless, the eldest triplet escaped the boredom of his house and skipped across the sunny street to Timber's. He glanced up at the sky, grinning through his aviator sunglasses before running up the front steps and ringing the bell.
Clint had selected a pair of dark blue jeans and a white baseball shirt with crimson sleeves. Feeling sexy and chic, he leaned against the doorjamb, awaiting Timber's response.
It wasn't long before the pattering of footsteps to the door was heard. Timber swung it open, smiling awkwardly and tilting her head to a flattering angle.
"Hello there young man." She smirked. "Come on in."
Clint grinned. She was wrapped in a towel, fresh from the shower. He followed her inside, shutting the door behind him as she jogged up the steps.
"I was just getting dressed man, I had to take like, a forty second shower!" she called down to him in the foyer.
"Angie said one right?" Clint called back up to her from the bottom of the steps, itching to go up and see what she was doing.
Timber peeked her head out of her bedroom, the second door in the hall. "Yep. It's one-o-two, so if she shows up, I guess I'll have to go naked."
"Bad for you, good for me!" Clint called, grinning at the prospect. "Can I come up?" he asked.
"Yeah." She replied from somewhere inside her bedroom.
Clint rubbed his hands together, dashing up the steps and taking them two at a time. Biting down on his lower lip, he peeked into her bedroom through the gaping door, disappointment etching onto his features.
Timber looked up from her dresser where she was putting in her platinum studs. She smiled warmly at him. "Hey man." She said.
She was clad in a white wife beater and a pair of pressed grey trouser shorts with stiff crease lines down the front on either leg. They extended to just the middle of her knee, hanging easily on her hips. Clint had been hoping to catch her undressed. His only consolation was that she wasn't, as usual, wearing a bra and her tiny breasts poked out just barely in the thin fabric of her top, the dark nipples straining a contrast against the white cotton.
She caught him staring. "What?" she asked, immediately self-conscious.
"Nothing." Clint smirked, not tearing his eyes away from her breasts. "I just thought it was pretty neat how you aren't wearing a bra." He mentioned candidly.
Timber smiled sheepishly. "Well, my bra was actually burned yesterday, but then again, you should know about that since you were the one who suggested the whole reenactment of a sixties women's-right's movement."
Clint snickered. "And now I'm quite pleased with myself." He responded, still staring at her chest but leaning against the white dresser.
"Oh please, there's nothing there anyways." She informed him. "You'd be better off staring at your own chest." She quipped, swiping mascara onto her eyelashes.
"Timber!" Clint exclaimed, finally bothering to look above her shoulders. "It's not the quantity of the breasts, it's the quality." He explained emphatically, gesturing obscenely with his hands cupped against his own chest.
Timber raised a questionable eyebrow, sticking the mascara wand back into the tube and throwing it in her make-up drawer.
"Good Lord!" Clint exclaimed. "You have just about every Mac eye shadow color known the man!" he pulled the drawer out further and marveled at her collection of small, black, round eye shadow containers, each with a different hue peeking through the circular window on top.
"Not all, just the ones I liked." Timber explained, applying lip gloss to her full, pouting lips. "I don't really wear make-up, but when I wear eye shadow it has to be Mac. So I went and got all the colors I liked so I could be done with it." "Only eye shadow?" Clint asked, perusing the contents of the small drawer.
"Well, and like, one eyeliner in this charcoal color. The rest is just lips stuff from a bunch of different brands." She said, looking into the drawer herself and realizing she could do to organize it someday. "And make-up brushes. How did you know about Mac?"
Clint looked up at her. "Oh please child." He said matter-of-factly. "I watch the style channel, I know what's up." He grinned. "You should wear some of this stuff sometime. I bet you'd look hot in it."
Timber smirked bashfully. "Well, thank you very much Clint." She murmured, shutting the drawer and grabbing a black handbag.
"Are you ready to max out our credit cards?" Clint grinned, patting his pocket where he had his stashed.
"Ready as always." Timber grinned, sliding her feet into her black flip-flops and following him out of the room.
Outside, Angela honked the horn on her convertible.
* * *
Bob finally dragged himself out of bed sometime between one o'clock and one-thirty in the afternoon. Rather tickled by the fact that he had slept through a hangover that would have otherwise been quite painful, he quickly prepared for the day and was heading downstairs by one-forty.
As he stepped down to the foyer, he could see Scott's bare feet at the end of the couch in the living room. Nearing the entrance, more and more of Scott's slender physique was revealed until Bob was standing in the archway, surveying the scene of his friends.
Scott was hogging the couch for himself, stretched out in a pair of blue and green plaid pajama pants and a white v-necked tee-shirt. Ben and Dave sat side by side on the couch in front of the sofa, both with their knees tucked up in a similar fashion. Ben was wearing a red tee-shirt which read, 'Objects are larger than they appear...' in white lettering and Dave donned his favorite Sailor Moon tee-shirt. It was times like that when Bob actually dwelled on the thought that they were age-old friends. He hadn't given it much thought, but just as he had Timber, Dave had Ben.
Kelly and Carmen were parked on the loveseat, Carmen in a purple tank top and jean shorts curled up with her head on her friend's lap. Kelly was clad in a white tank top that just barely showcased her buxom physique. Bob couldn't see what she was wearing on her lower half due to his girlfriend's head, but he could see that she had on a pair of cute white sneaker-clogs; one of those "preppy princess" things he could only imagine Kelly to wear.
No one noticed him as he entered the room and fell onto the leather recliner, realizing it was free. It wasn't until the seat sighed beneath him that he caught the attention of the others.
"Dude Bob, say excuse me." Scott scolded, apparently relieved of his hangover for the time being.
"Obviously that was the chair." Bob responded, rolling his eyes. He directed his gaze to the big screen television, instantly startled. "What the fuck are you guys watching?" he asked, not particularly fond of 'I Love Lucy' reruns.
"Yeah man, what the fuck are we watching?" Ben suddenly agreed, as if the thought hadn't occurred to him until Bob mentioned it.
"It's not like there's anything else on!" Scott defended, still possessing a certain I-just-woke-up look about him.
"I love Lucy is a kick-ass show." Kelly defended.
"Then go watch it in the basement man, let's see what else is on." Bob smirked, leaning all the way forward in the recliner to reach the remote control on the coffee table.
"Nothing else is on man. It's a weekday afternoon." Dave informed him.
"Well what are we usually doing at this time?" Bob asked, flipping through the channels with a very serious expression on his face.
"I'm usually watching porn, music videos, or music videos that might as well be porn." Ben responded truthfully. "I actually have some porn with me man, you want me to get my videos?" he asked.
Bob paused for a moment, mid channel-switch. "Awwwwhatthehell." He smirked. "Let's watch porn."
Ben clapped his hands together, smiling. "I luckily left a few videos over the other day so..." he trailed off, jogging out of the room and up the stairs.
"Where are the other three... and Clint?" Bob asked, looking around and noticing they weren't in sight.
Scott scrubbed the fingers of his right hand back through his hair, his cheek propped up on his left elbow. He somewhat moaned before replying, "They, like, went shopping or something."
Bob nodded, continuing to sit forward on the recliner off towards the right of the television set, aimlessly flipping channels.
Dave suddenly stood up, upon hearing his best friend's treading on the steps. "Hey Scott, move over, I want the couch too." He ordered, slapping at Scott's feet until the older boy reluctantly moved over.
"Hey man! I was comfortable too." Scott whimpered, throwing his legs off the couch and sitting up in the corner so he could lean over the left arm of the seat.
"Okay, so what'll it be guys?" Ben asked, entering the room with a large Structure shopping bag tucked in to his hip. He pulled out a few videos. "Janet Jack-me... Crouching hummer, hidden cum-shot... The Nutting Professor, Forrest Hump... Booty and the Beast... Naught Nurses one, two and three..."
"Whoa there Ben!" Carmen cut him off, sitting up partially. "I thought you said a few videos!"
Ben looked up innocently. "Oh, you should see my collection at home." He smirked.
"No thanks..." Kelly said dryly.
"So what'll it be boys?" Ben asked. "I have other ones too, your welcome to look." He smirked charmingly, setting his bag on the coffee table. Scott and Dave crowded over to take a look.
Curiosity even got the best of Bob, who hurried to the table, dropping onto his knees and beginning to peruse the contents of the bag.
"You guys are so immature." Carmen scolded, fidgeting onto her back so she could look up at Kelly. "Aren't they immature?" she asked.
"Very." Kelly agreed.
"Oh! We have to watch Petticoat Planet! Two girls get it on in this one! I've seen it!" Bob exclaimed.
"Petticoat Planet it is." Ben grinned. "And what a fine choice, might I add."
* * *
"She's cumming already!" Kelly exclaimed in blatant irritation, as if she were watching a sport's game. "He just put it in and already she's cumming! That's about as unrealistic as it gets. I mean, it doesn't work that way!"
"I know!" Carmen, now sitting up, was also critiquing the pornographic performance on the television before her. "He just stepped up to bat and she's acting like he already hit a home run!"
Kelly shook her head in pity. "This is retarded. Look, he's not even doing it well and she's acting like he's some super stud. I mean, she's all screaming and shit like he's actually hitting it right."
"I know! She's screaming like she just struck oil." Carmen emphatically agreed.
Bob tore his eyes from the big screen television to look at his girlfriend. "Hello pot, meet kettle." He said sarcastically, returning his attention to its previous point.
Scott snickered. "Tell me about it."
"Yeah Carm, you could wake the dead." Dave agreed.
"So I'm a screamer, so what?" Carmen defended herself.
"What am I? Am I a screamer?" Kelly asked, directing her attention to Ben.
"Not really. More of a... soft moaner. See, that's sexy. Softly moaning, sometimes loud moaning, but screaming sounds fake to me."
"Oh it's real." Carmen smirked.
"Yeah, totally." Scott agreed, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees.
"Is Angela a soft moaner?" Ben asked.
Scott pondered this question for a moment. "Naw, not really." He replied. "She's more of a... breather. Not a hard breather, but a gentle breather. Like, a soft, gasper. That's a major turn on for me." He smirked.
"Yeah, gaspers are cool. I'm still a soft moaning guy though." Ben accorded, winking at Kelly and smiling.
She mocked hubris and shrugged helplessly.
"Yeah, but I've been with a few screamers." Scott continued. "That gets annoying after a while. Especially right in your ear. I mean, it's like 'Hey bitch, if it's that good then pay for it.'"
Bob, Dave, and Ben broke into hysterics at this comment, while Kelly and Carmen exchanged a look that said, 'Boys... can't live with them, can't live without them.'
"I bet you guys fuck like everyday... knowing you Scott." Ben smirked. "You sly devil you."
"Oh! She's orgasming!" Bob interrupted, pointing to the television.
"As if she really is." Kelly muttered, sighing and resting her head heavily on her hand.
* * *
Timber and Clint had soon temporarily parted ways with Jeanine and Angela, wandering into their own system of shopping and leisurely holding hands as they strolled from store to store, accumulating more and more bags. An hour soon passed, seeming as if it had chugged by much too quickly. They were scheduled to meet the other two girls quite soon.
Clint squeezed Timber's hand gently as the two headed for the food court. He noticed she was quite uncomfortable for some reason or another, glancing surreptitiously around them and scrutinizing every passerby carefully. He finally bothered to ask what her issue was.
"Okay." He stopped walking, yanking at her hand so she stopped too. "What's your beef man?"
Timber grinned at his query. "Nothing." She shrugged, pulling at his fingers laced in hers. "Let's go."
"No man, something's up. Is my fly open or something?" he asked, having the decency not to look down and check in public.
"No!" Timber chuckled. "Nothing like that. Now let us go." She tugged at his hand once more, clattering the bags in her left hand. "Shom'on." She urged.
Clint didn't budge, staring at her intently and patiently waiting for her to tell him something to ease his curiosity.
Timber turned to face him, staring him directly in the eye. "What?" she demanded, noticing his eyes falter and land on her chest for a split second.
"Nothing." He replied, shaking his head and blushing slightly. "You have a problem man. Tell me."
"Well you obviously already know!" Timber laughed with a twinge of nervousness.
"What?" Clint asked. "I can tell what?" he pressed like small child with an endless supply of questions.
Timber glanced in both directions, stepping closer to him. "Okay, but don't go yelling anything out." She made him vow. "... and don't look either." She added.
"What? Is your fly undone?" he grinned, leaning back to get a better look.
"Clint!" Timber scolded, chuckling and unlatching her hand from his to smack him. "No. Seriously man." She said, dropping her voice. "Can you really see through my shirt? Like a lot?" she asked self-consciously.
Clint chuckled, his eyes dropping to where her dark nipples stood out against the white fabric. She was almost completely flat chested, but with her tiny nubs poking out at him, he couldn't help but feel turned on.
"You're not supposed to look!" Timber exclaimed, smacking him on the chest.
"Sorry." Clint smiled, looking again.
"It's just that I barely wear a bra anyways, but I usually wear one under my white shirts." She explained. "I mean, if you can see through them. But since my one and only bra was set ablaze yesterday..." she trailed off. "Is it that bad?" she asked.
"Timber..." Clint began, shaking his head. "It's fine from my view, but come here." He directed, still clutching his three large shopping bags in one hand while his other grabbed her right hand and led her into the nearest boutique, happening to be Burberry. He led her to the full-length mirror near the purses.
"Oh my God." Timber whispered, not able to stifle a giggle.
"You can see the ta-tas, but it's not too bad." Clint informed her, standing beside her and watching their reflection. "It's not 'porno bad.'" He added, reinforcing his statement.
"Yeah, but I'd like it so that you can not see the ta-tas." She informed him. "I need a bra anyways. What time is it? Do we have time to run to like, Victoria's Secret or something?" she asked.
"I'm not wearing a watch." Clint replied. "Bare wrists looked much better with this shirt." He explained. "And FYI, there is always time to run to Victoria's Secret. A lingerie store Timber? We have all the time in the world for that." He smiled disarmingly.
Timber nodded in agreement, giving him leeway for possessing a penis. "How did you tell me what time it was before then?" she asked.
"It was on my receipt from Club Monaco... so it was probably like, two minutes off." He replied, turning around and looking back over his shoulder so he could see his backside in the mirror. "But I'm sure we have time before we have to meet Jen and Gie." He added, shrugging passively and trailing after her as she started out of the boutique.
Back in the hallway, Clint skipped a step to fall into stride with her. He slid his hand back into hers and smirked. "Vicki's Secret. Haven't been there in a loooooong time."
"They probably banned you from the place because all you did was put the panties on your face." Timber snickered.
Clint shrugged. "Well, you get it where you can." He grinned.
Just as he and Timber recovered form a mild fit of giggling, a girl of about Clint's age accosted them, her blonde ponytail bobbing furiously behind her head. She caught Clint's mocha eyes on her pale green ones, grinning brightly and mildly slipping her hands into the pockets of her loose jeans. On top, she donned a pale green halter-top, which displayed two very sculpted arms. As her eyes lowered, her sheer blonde ponytail splashed over her tanned shoulder like a feather duster, the silk tresses flopping back when she glanced up once more.
"I'm really sorry to come up to you like this." The girl began, stopping before the two. She was slightly shorter than Timber, merely five feet and perhaps four inches high. "But you're Clint Moffatt right?" she asked, clearing her throat to be rid of the nervousness.
Clint nodded, smiling pleasantly. "Yeah, I am... hi." He placed his shopping bags on the floor for a moment, leaning them against his leg, as he extended his hand to her.
She looked up from the floor once more, blushing even through her deep tan. "Hi." She said, smiling brilliantly and hesitantly accepting his hand. "My name's Chloe." She added.
Timber watched the exchange, smirking. She was thankful that Chloe wasn't like most of Clint's usual fans, loud and obsessive. Trying to be polite, Timber attempted to detach her hand from Clint's, but he squeezed it tighter, not allowing her escape.
"Well hello there Chloe." Clint grinned, noticing she hadn't really said anything.
"Sorry..." she chuckled foolishly. "I'm a really big fan. I just wanted to take this opportunity to meet you." She admitted.
Clint's smile broadened. "Well thanks Chloe, that's very flattering." He said in a friendly tone.
She peered up at him. "Do you think that... you could give me your autograph?" she requested.
Clint smiled. "Most certainly Chloe." He smiled.
"Okay, um..." she hummed, searching her pockets. "Shoot, I don't have a pen," she blushed. "But um..."
"Here, I have one." Timber piped in, tugging her hand away from Clint's so she could go into her handbag and extract her black, shiny leather clutch. She unbuttoned the top layer and it folded open like a pocket book, a pen dangling from a holder. "Here ya go." She said, handing it back to Clint.
"Thanks."
"Thanks." Chloe added, tucking at a wisp of hair that was to short for her ponytail.
"What shall I sign?" Clint asked.
"Oh, ummm..." Chloe dug in her back pocket and found her own compact wallet while Timber put hers away. The shy girl searched for a moment before coming up with a business card from a paint store. She handed it to Clint who flipped it over to the blank side and scrawled a quick message.
'Chloe, you're an amazing girl. I hope I see you again sometime. -Clint.'
While Clint wrote, the petite blonde glanced at Timber and smiled warmly, obviously wondering if she was Clint's girlfriend. Timber decided not to touch the subject.
"Here you go." Clint said, handing her the card. "It was nice meeting you."
Chloe turned her attention back to Clint. "It was excellent meeting you Clint. You made my whole day." She smirked bashfully."
"As you did mine." Clint flirted, leaning in to give her a hug before picking up his bags and tugging Timber along with him.
"You tease." Timber murmured once they were out of earshot.
Clint just sighed; rolling his shoulders back a bit to loosen them up, as if he had just engaged in a strenuous activity. "Man," he said arrogantly. "I wish these hoes would just back up off me." He sighed, still smirking. "'Let a player play."
Timber chuckled warmly. "Loser." She teased.
* * *
After the slight delay, Clint and Timber decided to go immediately to the food court and regroup with Angela and Jeanine. The four settled down for lunch, taking a break from shopping for the time being. After lunch, it was back to shopping, this time in their quartet, and heading for the other end of the mall where they had not yet been that afternoon.
Entering a trendy boutique named Bebe, Angela immediately wrinkled her nose. "I don't think I'd ever wear anything here." She murmured to Clint, who smiled and put his arm around her shoulders.
"Yeah, too bad this place is slut central." he grinned.
Timber and Jeanine had wandered ahead into the store that was geared towards the more exhibitionistic dressers. There were several different racks, all containing flashy and skimpy clothing, only a small section dedicated to more sporty attire that left more to the imagination.
"Is this tank cute, or is it cute as hell?" Jeanine asked, smiling cutely as she posed with the hanger in front of her chest. The tank was white with sparkly lettering across the front.
"Cute as hell, try that on!" Clint urged, knowing Bebe was a store for females, but enjoying the fact that he could watch the girls change.
He hugged Angela's shoulders, leading her away to a black dress on display. "If you don't try this on, I'll be forced to kill you." He informed her. "You would look so hot in that..." he continued.
Angela smiled slightly. "That's really pretty." She agreed, going to where there were a few of them hanging on a rack by the wall and searching for her size.
Clint grinned. "But just be careful." He added. "Because if you look too hot in that, I might have to steal you from Scott." He grinned.
Angela smiled back at him, patting his cheek gently and heading for the dressing rooms where Timber and Jeanine had already disappeared. Clint paused for a moment before hurrying after her.
* * *
"Damn this top rocks on me." Jeanine smiled, pleased with her appearance as she twirled in from of the full-length mirror that was in the hallway just outside the fitting rooms.
Clint sat on a chair in the hallway with Timber wrangled on his lap, having not been allowed to join his girlfriends in the small cubicles. "Yeah, your tits look great." He added cheekily, winking at her when he caught her eye.
Jeanine stared at Clint for a moment, a pleasant smile taking over her features. She even allowed alight giggle to escape. "Thank you Clint!" she said warmly.
"You okay in there Gie?" Timber called, leaning back against Clint's chest with his chin settled on her right shoulder. His hands were wrapped around her waist, rested on her stomach with her hands palm-down on top of them. She was quite comfortable, her legs draped over his, wagging slightly to the almost invisible rhythm of the store music. "Come on out babe! We wanna see you!!"
"One second!" Angela called back. Shortly after, she parted the dark purple, velvet curtain to her individual cubicle and stepped out. She was wearing the dress, doing an elegant justice to it. The fabric was lacy and black, v-necked with spaghetti straps. The hem fell to just below her knees, tapering in and hugging her voluptuous curves, namely her hips. Under the overhead lights, the tiny sparkles in the lace caught the light, glittering brilliantly, as if maybe her beauty were creating the sparkling illusion. She smiled crookedly, slightly awkward in such a number, and shifting on her feet in the doorway of her dressing room.
"Hubba hubba!" Jeanine exclaimed. "You look hot girl. Hot."
"Damn Gie." Clint smirked, eyebrows raised as he scanned down her frame. "You look hot. Totally fuckable. Now strut your stuff to the mirror and back, show that sexy self off." He ordered, grinning salaciously.
Angela giggled, putting on a serious model face and prancing down the hall to the three-way mirror at the end, then back.
"Awww... sookie-sookie now!" Clint grinned, clapping his hands over Timber's stomach.
"Look at her work her shit!" Timber chuckled.
"You look hot." Jeanine nodded, standing behind her friend at the singular full-length. She studied their reflection for a moment, smiling satisfied. Noticing a mark just at the neckline of her best friend's dress, Jeanine leaned closer. "What's that?" she asked, stepping in front of Angela and turning around to see the bruise closer.
"What?" Angela asked, looking down. "Oh." She chuckled, opening her hem a bit to better display the small reddish-purple mark just at the top of her breasts and several others that stretched farther down. "They're from Scott." She replied quietly, giggling slightly.
"Are those... hickey's?" Jeanine asked, quite amused.
"I wanna see! I wanna see!" Timber exclaimed, hopping up from Clint's lap. "I wanna see the hickeys!"
She ran to where her girlfriends were huddled a few feet away and peeked into Angela's top. "Hey! Don't those hurt?" she asked, tugging the top of the dress open even more.
Angela looked down at the cheetah spots decorating her breasts. "Not really." She replied.
Jeanine pulled her friend's bra open. "How far do they go down?" she asked, inspecting her breasts to see that the marks even covered the small, light brownish-pink circle around her nipples. "Dude, when did you get all of these? Damn, there're a lot."
"Geez. Scott sure has a breasts obsession!" Timber chuckled, poking one of the marks towards the top her Angela's left breasts. "Does that hurt?" she asked. "What does it feel like when he gives you them?"
"It's just like getting a hickey on your neck." Angela explained.
"I've gotten those before... hell, I've gotten hickey's on my tits before, but not so fucking many!" Jeanine said in sheer amazement.
Clint, still sitting a ways away in the chair finally stood up. "I wanna see!" he informed them all, strutting over. "Can I see?" he asked, peeking over Angela's shoulder from behind and looking into the top of her dress at her breasts. He grinned. "Man. You have really great boobs. Good quality boobies." He added, smirking wider yet.
Angela shut her top. "Don't you tell Scott you saw that." She smiled at him, blushing and slightly embarrassed. She couldn't believe she had just shown another guy her breasts after it had taken her over a year to warm up and show Scott, who had been a huge fan of her breasts since the beginning.
"Are you kidding? He'd kill me." Clint agreed. "But your boobs..." he shook his head, smiling cheesily and sucking back air through his teeth to create a sizzling sound. "Grade A. Two thumbs up, fine family fun. And if that whole thing with Scott doesn't work out... you just call on me and I'll take care of all-a-that."
Angela rolled her eyes, patting Clint's arm. "I think I need this dress in a different size. It's kind of loose back here." She stated, spinning in the mirror and taking notice that the dress was indeed sagging on her posterior.
"I'm getting this tee." Jeanine informed them.
"I just wanna try a different size, then we can go." Angela said, heading for the main part of the store.
There were few patrons in Bebe that afternoon, the saleswomen clad in trendy clothes merely ambling around and conversing amongst themselves. Angie sighed, sauntering across the white-washed wood of the floor on bare feet to the rack with all the dresses that matched the one she had on. She began to weed through the remaining garments, searching each tag for her size.
"... what happened last night?"
A female voice from the other side of the rack asked in a hushed tone.
"Marcinne, I told you that a girl never kisses and tells." A second female voice, deeper and with more confidence, responded. "Hmmm... I wonder if they have this top in my size?" she added as an afterthought.
"Oh please, Delta!" the first girl pleaded. "Tell me! You have to! I was an accomplice! I'm your best friend!" she coerced.
Angela couldn't see the two figures on the other side and pretending not to pay attention to their conversation, embarrassed by the fact that she actually was. Nevertheless, her ears couldn't possibly tune them out right then.
"Okay Marcinne," the second girl began, though it was blatantly obvious she had been willing to share whatever story she had to tell from the start. "Are you sure you wanna hear? Because as I recall, you were the same one who had been discouraging me from... pursuing... him in the first place because he had a girlfriend." She taunted.
"I'm sorry!" the first voice exclaimed, instantly dropping her voice. "Now what happened?" she asked in a hushed tone.
"Well Marcy... let's just say we had an interesting game of pool going." The second girl replied, making her smirk obvious.
"You didn't..." the first girl asked in disbelief.
Angela shook her head, trying to stop listening, but finding the conversation taking place across the dresses to be rather suspenseful. Risking voyeurism, she focused in her attention, putting her dress-finding on hold.
"Yes I did." The second girl replied in that same smug tone. "I fucked Scott Moffatt."
* * *