Jaycee's Blog - Wed, May 19 (Patreon)

I found out what Grief's curse on Brooke was. She called me on Zoom last night and told me about her Monday evening. She had decided to take a walk (before curfew) on St. Joseph street, where there are plenty of (currently closed) restaurants, pubs, and popular shops. It was just to stretch her legs and get out of her place—we all have cabin fever, these days, right? By her own admission, she might have worn an outfit that was a bit revealing, and—in typical Brooke fashion—foregone putting on a bra.

Obviously, that drew some attention from the more juvenile males she crossed. It was all right, she said, she doesn't mind the stares. the trouble started when one of them wolf-whistled her. He was a young guy in his early twenties, and he was cheered on by two of his (equally juvenile) friends. Brooke said the effect was instantaneous—she got a little excited down there. Her nipples might have gotten erect, and against the flimsy and form-fitting fabric of her white shirt, they broadcast a clear message of arousal to the guy.

"Do I know you?" he asked. "Because you sure look like my next girlfriend."

Again, Brooke felt another jolt hit her crotch and got weak in the knees.

"Hey," one of his friends said, "look at her squirm. I think she likes you."

Loverboy didn't need the encouragement and continued his assault of cheesy pick-up lines.

"Is it hot in here or is it just you?" he said.

"Oh fuck..." Brooke grumbled, steadying herself against a lamppost. It was getting pretty bad down there, and she decided it was time to retreat.

As she hurried away (on wobbly legs, she said), he threw one last line at her.

"Aside from being sexy, what do you do for a living?"

As his friends cheered for him, she turned a corner and disappeared from their view. The arousal didn't stop, however, and stayed at the exact same level (which, I'm told, was an 8 out of 10) until Brooke got home and "took care of business."

I had to chuckle a little, which apparently offended Brook. She (in her pick-up artist days) had used enough of them on helpless girls, so I had to laugh at the poetry of it. She told me to shut up, that it wasn't funny, and that now she didn't dare go outside because someone might hit on her and she might not be able to get away quickly enough next time.

Dear readers, you know what I did next, right?

"Are you a bank loan?" I asked. "Because you've got my interest."

Her eyes grew wide instantly and she winced. Before she could react, I spoke again.

"My love for you is like diarrhea, I just can't hold it in!"

"Shit," she grumbled, her hands reaching below her waistline in reflex.

"Do you like Star Wars?" I continued. "Because Yoda one for me."

"Aaah!" she cried, shivering on her chair. "Asshole."

I saw her face blush beet red she she trembled like a leaf in a hurricane. I hit her with three more lines in rapid succession (I've learned a lot of pickup lines from Brooke back in the days, so that wasn't hard). Finally, she collapsed the floor and I lost track of her on the camera. I heard her flopping on the ground, then there was the rustling of clothes sliding off her body. When the wet sounds started, I ended the call. A girl needs her privacy, and I'm not a complete asshole.

She hasn't called me back yet, and I suspect she may only text me for a little while. :)

--Jaycee