Title: Blow
Rating: PG
Summary: Seth has a slight victory.
Disclaimer: I don't own anything etc.
Notes: Just drabbles. Takes places during 'The Gamble', but I think that's pretty obvious.
I swear, I thought I had posted this, but I guess I didn't. Anyway...
Champaign flutes clinking.
The ping of a tiny plastic ball skidding on the roulette table.
Technicolour lights blaring in the background.
Pumping, big-band music.
The cha-chink of chips dropping.
Obnoxious, drunken laughter.
Above all else, he hears those words that rock him on his feet.
'Blow on these.'
Blow on these, she says with her chest buried in red seduction silk, taunting him.
And it's probably his imagination that makes him think Summer's eyes roamed down the front of his pants.
Blowblowblow.
And it's probably a bad thing that his memory goes back to that innocent question Marissa asked him earlier, 'what's up?'
What's up is definitely not an innocent question now, because what's up is an erection that is beginning to become painful. What's up was probably never an innocent question when Summer was around.
You cannot just say blow with that seductive, sex-mouth and not expect to get a reaction like that.
And that's what made Seth think Summer Roberts knew exactly what she did to him.
Blowblowblow.
Too stunned to do anything else, he put his lips together and with half-closed lids, he let out a slow, deliberate breeze of air that was probably too light to even make it to the dice.
But she spins on her heels and gives a toss, rolls her hips and bounces up and down when she claims victory.
And it's his victory too.
Blowblowblow.
'You're not going anywhere, Sid!'
No, he's not. And maybe she'll even learn his name.
Blowblowblow.
And maybe she won't...but who needs names when you can blow.
--
end.