Paige and Steve ended up having lunch at a small seafood restaurant near the Santa Monica pier. Their conversation was light and airy, but was still leaden with the attraction that was hanging in the air between them.

After they ate, they went to the pier itself, which was buzzing with people. They walked along together talking animatedly, stopping every now and then to play a carnival game. Steve won a stuffed animal for her, by knocking over milk cans with a ball.

"Guess I really know how to handle my balls, huh?" Steve quipped.

Paige snickered, and Steve looked distressed suddenly.

"I'm sorry...I shouldn't have said that." He said, visibly kicking himself for his comment.

"No, it's okay!" Paige said with a laugh, "I've heard much worse."

He looked at her, "I really like you though, I don't want you to think I'm like that..."

She smiled softly at him, "Steve, don't worry about it." She assured him, "I'm not offended."

"Good." He said, relieved, "I wouldn't want you to think I was like Trace."

She scoffed, "Do you think if you were anything like that guy, I would be here with you?"

He stopped walking and smiled tentatively, "Then I'm really glad I'm NOT like him..."

She blushed, "Thanks."

"So tell me more about yourself..." Steve said, leading her away from the busy walkway of the pier toward the side where they could look off into the ocean.

Paige started to feel nervous...she plunged her hands in and out of the pockets of her pants, and then ran her fingers through her hair, searching for what to say next.

"Well..." She drawled, "I live in an apartment with my friend, Liz...and I go to school part time, and work part time...Ummm..."

He smiled at her, urging her to go on.

"I'm sure that my life isn't half as exciting as yours is...but it's all right...we have fun...I spend a lot of time with my girls, and that's cool..."

His hand inched over slowly and landed on top of hers.

"Paige?" He said softly, interrupting the happiness she felt when he took her hand in his.

"Yes?" She said, looking over at him.

He took her chin gingerly between his hands, and pulled her face to his. Their lips met gently, and the kiss sent waves of pleasure down to her toes.

But it was over as quickly as it had begun, and they pulled away from each other, both of them smiling contentedly.

Lex lay back against the pillows, watching Chris take off his shirt. She admired his body until he moved back so he was hovering over her, holding himself up on his hands at either side of her head, staring down into her eyes.

He bent down and kissed her deeply, grinding his still clothed groin against hers. She moaned, and moved her hips back against him, silently conveying her desire for him.

He thrust his tongue deeper into her throat, and reached up under her shirt to pull it off her. She raised slightly off the bed and lifted her arms in the air to accommodate this move, and he tossed the shirt off the bed onto the heap of clothing he had pushed onto the floor.

He placed a trail of soft kisses on her cleavage, reaching back with one hand to undo the clasp on her bra. In a moment, he had it undone, and was pulling that too off of her.

She lay before him, bare chested. He looked at her with the sweetest smile on his face, as though he was committing the vision to memory, and then lowered his head to her breast, catching a nipple between his lips and grazing it with his tongue.

She gasped, shocked from the feeling of his cool, wet tongue against her hot flesh. He continued to gently lap at her nipple, reaching up to take the other one between his thumb and forefinger.

She hissed his name, grinding her hips against his, his erection now evident behind his blue jeans.

He slid down her body in a serpentine fashion, hooking his fingers through the waistband of her light blue sweat pants, and pulling them down past her knees. He stopped when he realized that her tennis shoes were still on, and gave her a goofy grin.

She smiled down at him as he pulled them off and threw them aside hastily. Then completely having removed her sweatpants, so that she only lay before him wearing a pair of lace panties and her socks, he began to take off his own pants.

As his jeans fell around his ankles, she noticed his hard-on...begging for release from behind the material of his sport shorts. She licked her lips in anticipation and he smiled at her.

"Should I just go for the whole nine yards?" He asked with a grin.

She nodded, "Might as well...easier to make a touchdown that way!"

He laughed and shucked his underwear...then reached down and slid hers down her legs as well...Then with a playful growl, he pounced her much like a cat on a mouse. She giggled and threw her arms around his neck, and her legs around his waist.

Justin tossed back his fourth shot of Tequila, and leaned forward to suck the lime wedge from between my lips. He missed by about 5 inches however, and ended up tumbling into me.

"That..." He slurred slightly, "Didn't work at all..." And then burst into a fit of laughter.

I leaned down and brought my face up to his, forcing the lime into his mouth with my tongue. He sucked it dry, spit out the rind, and then pulled me down on top of him, shoving his tongue into my mouth.

I kissed him back passionately, having had three shots myself.

He pulled away from me, and lay down flat on the floor in front of me, pulling off his FuBu Jersey and wife beater.

He reached over and picked up the half-empty bottle of Tequila off the floor beside him and opened it, struggling to get the cap off at first.

Once the bottle was open, he turned it upside down over his muscular chest and stomach and dumped the contents onto himself.

"Justin!" I exclaimed, "What the hell did you do that for?"

"It's your shoot!" He said..."I mean, shot!"

"You...want me to..." I stammered.

"LICK IT OFF ME WOMAN!" He bellowed..."THIS SHIT IS COLD!'"

I was never one to disobey a direct order...so I bent over him and began to suck the alcohol off his stomach, which twitched and jumped beneath my mouth.

I worked my way up to his chest, stopping to twirl my tongue around each of his nipples once. He groaned, and thread his fingers through my hair, urging me to continue.

I did as he wished, and his groaning turned into full-blown moans. I don't know if it was the affect of the alcohol, or the sounds of his pleasure...but something was sure as hell making me want to abandon all knowledge of right or wrong and make mad passionate love to him then and there.

I wanted him more in that moment, than I could recall wanting any man in my life, and by the feeling of his steadily hardening erection against my leg...The feeling was mutual.