Sam and Dean went back to the hotel room and crashed. The next day they did all the tedious chores of life: laundry, grocery shopping, cleaning. Neither man had plans to leave this town anytime soon. Eventually it was time for the brothers to split up once again. Dean gave Sam a lift to the college library to meet with his study group, then headed off to the club for another gig.

Dean was standing on the stage in the spotlight, searching the crowd with anticipation. She was usually here by now. The band began to play the intro to "That How It Starts" by the Features. Dean saw the door open; the streetlights outside shined through the door, creating the profile of the perfect hourglass figure standing in the doorway. Dean's mouth became a wicked grin.

Chalice De Mornay wore a short, silky red spaghetti strap dress. From the way the dress hugged her breasts, it was obvious she wasn't wearing anything underneath. Her bright red lipstick and stiletto heels were as eye catching as the dress. Her golden hair was in a tight French braid with just a few loose curls framing her face. She sat down in the front row; the regular crowd gratefully saved her seat, just so they could watch her giggle her way to the front. She sat down seductively as Dean began to sing.

There was no one else in the room to him. Dean was in ultimate male sex kitten mode; playful one moment, forceful the next. He was in control and her slave at the same time. His guitar was on fire. His voice, his body language, his facial expressions conveyed the passion and lust he had for her. She returned his look with equal intensity. The rest of the audience became voyeurs as he sang to her, in a voice that was both rough yet smooth.

For the softest part of the song, he purred the lines,

"When I discovered the wonder of
The path was easier to see
There ain't no other but the one I love
Won't you come deliver me?"

There wasn't a dry pair of panties in the house. Even some of the men felt a stir.

Dean and Chalice were kissing when they entered her house after the show. Chalice undressed him down to his boxer briefs, took him by the hand and led him into the kitchen. She turned on the light in the kitchen so Dean could see his surprise.

The nearby counters were lined with giant cream pies, more than he could count. (She purchased the extra-large ones from Pete's Pie & Porn Shop.) They were banana and coconut, luscious, white, and creamy. Dean was giddy with horniness. Chalice picked up one of the pies, ran her finger through it, and sucked off the creamy filling provocatively. She ran her finger through the pie again and smiled as her cream filled finger was enveloped by Dean's succulent lips. A mischievous look washed over his face.

With lightning speed, he pulled down the front of her dress until her breasts were completely exposed and squeezed together. With the other hand, he pushed the pie that Chalice was holding in front of her against her chest, and rubbed it in good to make sure every inch from her cleavage to her nipples and beyond was smothered in pie. Chalice closed her eyes and inhaled sharply, standing frozen, adjusting to the cool squishiness. The pie tin and the crust slid to the ground. Dean bit his lip and embraced her forcefully, lifting her off the ground in the process. He leaned her back against the refrigerator door, shoving his mouth into her cleavage, licking and sucking greedily. She hugged his face and watched his lips and tongue dance over her naked flesh. She almost came when he sucked on her nipples.

The messy pie wound up on her hands, and from there wound up as a handprints down Dean's back. She giggled when he came up for air because the whole bottom half of his face and neck was covered in white cream; he looked like Santa Claus. She placed her tongue at the base of his throat; his head fell back as she ran her tongue up his throat and over his chin. She continued to lap the creaminess off his face as she smeared pie down his chest to his stomach, and over his shoulders and arms. Dean shivered in ecstasy. The cool slippery pie felt good over his skin. Her tongue tickled. He moaned approvingly when her mouth played with his nipples.

He felt her pull down the back of his boxer briefs. Now it was Dean's turn to gasp, because Chalice had managed to reach a pie behind him and smash it against his bare bottom. The cream got everywhere. While Chalice was laughing, her dress slid to the floor. Dean's boxers soon did the same. They flashed each other a diabolical smirk…this was war.

Dean and Chalice ran around her kitchen laughing, throwing pies at each other's nude bodies. From every view, their lower extremities were hidden behind her large counter in the center of the room. They both had remarkably good aim; soon pie covered all their erogenous zones and then some. Without warning, Chalice tackled Dean head-on. He fell backwards, bracing for impact.

To his surprise, he fell on soft padding. She had waited until he was standing in the perfect spot before she knocked him down. He hadn't noticed the thick, smooth gymnast mat earlier. Chalice made sure it was clean enough for them to eat off of it. They were both smothered in pie, accept for their faces. They began to wrestle, rolling over and over, slipping and sliding all over each other in the luscious squishiness. They played naked twister, licking and sucking or nibbling were ever their mouths happened to end up. Eventually they were playing the numbers game with her on top; Dean wondered if this girl even had a gag reflex. She gave the best head he ever had in his life, and he wondered how he was so lucky to find this chick. They both made the O face at the same time with equal ferocity; she gulped him down like a Mountain Dew.

They lay still for a little while panting in afterglow. They were both sticky and sweaty. Chalice got up to get them both some milk. "Ready for round two upstairs?" she asked him suggestively as he drank.

He thought for a second and felt his second wind coming on. "Yeah," he answered and got off the sticky mat. He was used to having sex with her at least twice, if not three times in one night. He never touched the bottle of Viagra, not even once. He hadn't felt this energetic since he was in his twenties. In fact, he never remembered feeling this good in his entire life. When he was around her, it was as though the weight of the world was lifted off his shoulders. When he made love to her, he felt invincible. He'd give up hunting…he'd give up anything and everything for her. He knew deep down that something wasn't right, but he was so tired of being miserable that he didn't want to question things too much. She took him by the hand and led him to the shower, where they got each other squeaky clean. Then it was off to the bedroom.

From a view from outside of Chalice's house, all that could be seen was movement behind Chalice's bedroom curtain and the sound of the bed thumping vigorously. Their moans were getting louder and louder. Upon orgasm, Dean yelled out so loud that he set off Chalice's car alarm. Inside Chalice's room, Chalice was massaging Dean's back. Dean was completely spent. He wasn't only satisfied, but felt utter peace and tranquility as well. He normally didn't feel this good after sex; he never felt this good. Maybe this is what feeling high on drugs felt like; she was changing him. Maybe she was evil. It didn't matter anymore.

He was losing the battle to keep his eyes open. He rolled over. "Can I see you tomorrow?" he smiled drowsily.

"Aw Sweetie, you know I work and go to school. I only have even nights free. I'll see you Saturday, I promise." She began to kiss his arms and shoulders. It was hard for her to keep her mouth off of him.

He fell asleep instantly, and it looked like he was still smiling. He was so sweet and beautiful, so angelic to look at while sleeping that it broke her heart. She kissed him lovingly on the forehead, and walked out of the room.