Which meant taking stock of any situation and weighing the pros and cons before going in. Sort of the opposite of Orlando, who tended to blaze in with all cylinders firing and risking blowback at every turn, but that was part of his charm and one of the reasons that Drew knew he was so perfect for Karl. Drew was protective of her friends, and Karl had been a friend first before they'd been lovers (she loved that she was old enough now to use that word with such panache), but it hadn't her long at all to figure out that Orlando was right for Karl in all of the ways that she knew she'd never be, not if she lived to be a hundred or had a sex change operation (which she wasn't about to do – tits like hers didn't come around every day). So, she'd bowed gracefully out of that battle – not that there'd been much of one, or even a reason to fight (Drew may be dramatic, but she wasn't stupid, she knew the writing was on the wall well before Karl did) – and had taken the mantle of Karl's all-knowing and wisdom-dispensing best friend with ease. She sort of thought of herself as a much younger Auntie Mame, giving slightly crazy but totally spot-on advice and making Karl and Orlando's lives more colorful and a helluva lot more fun. God knew Karl needed all the fun he could handle. In fact, it was pretty much her goal in life to be Auntie Mame to the world. Only maybe with more sex. Alright, a lot more sex. And possibly less cute, but precocious children running around. At least, at this stage of the game. Which led her to her latest strategic battle. Jacob Gyllenhaal, newest running back for the Georgia Bulldogs football team, and the object of many of Drew's late night fantasies. She'd taken one look at him in his tank top and shorts practicing with Karl and Orlando on the field – or, to be more honest, she'd taken one look at his shoulders and his ass – and that had been that. Jake totally didn't know it (yet), but he was going down in a blaze of glory and she was going to be riding the reins all the way. She shaded her eyes with her hand as she watched the guys running sprints up and down the practice field. Karl and Orlando were keeping pace with each other as they tended to do – they were so OTP, in a really cute way – and Jake was three steps ahead of them, keeping his own time. His thin grey t-shirt was plastered to his back and his face was flushed with exertion. Drew wondered if he looked like that after really athletic sex. She hoped to God she'd find out soon. Her vibrator needed new batteries as it was. Karl waved in her direction as soon as the guys all paused for a much needed break. Drew took that as her cue to waltz over to their bench, mindful of the picture she presented in her pink babydoll tee that was stretched tight across her breasts, a skirt that flared just above her knees, and slides that had just enough heel to emphasize her legs, which were damn nice, if she said so herself. Another part of the battle was dressing the part. And Drew always dressed the part. "Hi boys." She waggled her fingers – nails painted to match the shirt, of course – in a friendly wave. "Stunning as ever, I see," Karl replied, and bent to buss her cheek affectionately. He smelled of sweat and pure male and looked so damn good standing there that Drew felt a momentary pang that she wasn't riding in that particular rodeo these days. But it was only a momentary pang. Instead, she exchanged a quick wink with Orlando, and an exaggerated leer, which Orlando returned with a waggle of his brows. They understood each other perfectly. Jake held up a hand in greeting. The other was clutching a Gatorade cup. "How's it goin'?" "Peachy keen, how about yourself, sugar?" Drew deliberately laid on the Southern accent. Guys like Jake – boys from out West – lapped up Southern accents like cream. Of course, Drew intended for Jake to lap her up like cream, but she'd start with reeling him in with the accent and the tits and work her way from there. "Uh..." Jake looked momentarily lost for words. Karl just sniggered. "I'm good," he finally replied. "Hotter than a motherfucker out here." Oh yes, you are. "That's early fall in Georgia for you, still as hot as full summer most days," Drew replied, her voice all sympathy and smiles. She stood straight, girls front and center, the way they should be. "Lukewarm shower'll cool you right off until you're ready to get all sweaty again in a more pleasant way. What're you up to after practice?" Jake chewed adorably on his full bottom lip. His gaze started at her toes and moved north slowly. "Um..." Drew fought back the smile. This was going to be a piece of cake. "I was thinking you could buy me a drink." By this point, Orlando was practically leaning against Karl for support, his shoulders shaking with what Drew assumed was silent laughter. Jake just looked like he couldn't decide if he should full-on stare at her chest or continue to be polite and keep up with the sliding glances. "A drink?" he finally said. "I hear people need to drink." This time, her smile wouldn't have melted butter. "Yeah, okay." Jake's adam's apple bobbed in a flattering way when he nodded. Drew couldn't wait to get him some place alone and mess up his spiky hair even more. "Drinking sounds good. With you. I, uh, I mean, a drink would be nice." "Good. I'll just wait here, then." She made a production of turning, gave Karl and Orlando another quick, surreptitious wink, and walked (slowly, mind, showing off her very nice ass) back to the benches to wait. She gave herself a mental high five for an easy victory. Challenges were all well and good when it came to a role or a test, but men should always be easily gotten and easily kept. Drew intended to win that battle every single time.
Onto Cherry Flavored
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