Red
Red hair. Red dress. Red hat. Red eyes. And slightly red skin, even. All about this girl was red. And all that red was staring straight at you. You, the weird one, who had asked her out on a a date when everyone else in your college class thought she was weird for being so entirely red. But you were brave enough to ask her out. And she turned out to be nice enough. Now if only she didn't constantly stare at you with those red eyes. You ask her what she's staring at.
She takes a moment to think of her answer.. Then she reaches over the small coffee table and carreses your cheek. She says she's staring at the one guy in the entire class who didn't find her weird. She then takes a sip of her Bloody Mary, another thing red about this date. You sip your espresso (such an interesting choice, by the way) and ask how she got the way she did. You quickly specify all the red about her. She chuckles and explains.
Her eyes and hair are red by heritage, obviously enough. She dresses in red because she happens to like the color, and it's what suits her best. Her skin, however, is another story. She was at a beach last summer, and her skin got burnt all over. She blames it on her lack of sun lotion. The burns haven't worn off, however. It doesn't hurt anymore but her skin seems to be stuck that way. You say it looks nice on her. She giggles, hiding her mouth as she does.
You ask her what color her skin used to be. She tells you she used to be the whitest girl in the world, damn near paper color. You say you prefer her current look, that it gives her more character and personality, that it makes her unique. She seems taken aback, but soon stands up. You wonder if it was something you said, that she was mad at you for some reason. She walks around the table and takes your hand. She pulls you up and whispers in your ear. She says her place, right then and there. You flinch slightly, barely noticeably, knowing what she means. This was not planned but getting with this red hot babe couldn't hurt. What, were you going to get burnt? You internally chuckle at your own joke.
You arrive at her place. Her apartment's door says "Scarlet". Huh, fitting name, you suppose. She opens the door and inside you see more red. Red curtains, red chairs, a red table, a red laptop, a red purse, red closets. Hell, even her toilet is red. She drags you over to her bedroom. It's small, quaint and red. Tch, you assumed something else at this point? She pushes you onto her bed. You land on you ass with a small creak from the red bed.
She places her hat on her nightstand. She straddles you, pushing you further down on the sea of red you're on. Eventually you're laying down, her abundant red hair surrounding you from every angle. There's no escape, nor would you need one tonight. She smiles, having trapped her prey, so to speak. She kisses your neck. You gasp slightly. She giggles as she stares down at you. She approaches your lips.
"You know…"
Kiss
"You're the first one…"
Kiss
"To say such nice things to me…"
Kiss
"I can't…"
Kiss
"…let that kindness…"
Kiss
"…go to waste."
She unties the ribbons that hold her outfit together. The red fabric falls down. She's not wearing a bra, you observe… WAIT, WHAT? SHE'S NOT WEARING A BRA? She tosses her outfit aside, saying she won't need it for the night, that she's got something else to keep her warm. She lays down on you, tracing your chest with kisses. Her generous bust drags along your belly. You tense up. Natural instinct, you assume through the haze of emotions you're feeling. She notices you're tense. She chuckes quietly, making you wonder what the hell she's got up her sleeve. She tells you you need to loosen up for this to be worthwhile, and that she'll help you get there. She approaches your pants, and in a matter of seconds the damn things are off. She says it looks like she's not the only one who's hot and bothered. She slips her hand inside your boxers and the rest of the night was magic. Red hot chili-pepper magic.