—I could make anybody want me, that’s no trick. More like I had to figure out making them not want me.

She folded her arms. —Gotta think that woulda come easy.

—Fair enough. He shrugged. —But I don’t see you getting up and leaving.

—Yeah, well, give it a minute.

—I mean, I have sex. I didn’t lose interest or anything. Just, I got to feel like it was kind of a cheap use of my talent.

—Sure. Your talent for accosting women at parties and boring them to death.

—Always pushing myself at people, you know? I mean, they’re people. It isn’t always about seduction. They want things, they have things they need, you just have to listen.

Like you’ve been listening to me.

—I mean, do your thing, sure, but maybe you can help somebody, at the end of the day. You know? Be a benefactor.

—Mm-hmm. So, lucky me, I guess? Tonight’s benefactee?

—Well, I don’t know you yet. I don’t know if you need my help yet.

Not unless you can help me go back in time an hour and decide not to come to this party.

—Honestly though, strong self-sufficient girl like you? Might not need me at all.

He cast his eyes around the dance floor. —Like, you notice that one? He lifted his chin towards a leggy, very sorority-pretty blonde grinding against a whole little crew of guys in a far corner. —Like I don’t even need to talk to her, even from here it’s like she’s practically calling out to me for help.

—Oh really? Fine, I’ll bite. —And what sort of help exactly is she begging you for?

—Okay. He shifted in his seat to face her more directly. There was a wicked glint in his eye. —You know how you hate wearing panties? Like, hate hate. Like you’d never be caught dead in the nasty things.

She took stock for a second. Her eyes narrowed. —How did you know that? How I felt about panties?

He grinned. —I told you, I can read people. Same way I know you’ve also got a drawerful of ‘em at home.

She squirmed in her seat. —So does everybody.

What the fuck. She raised a buttcheek off the couch and craned behind her to see if there was something underneath.

—Cuz you still buy ‘em, right? They’re still sexy. Just cuz they’re gross and uncomfortable and you hate ‘em doesn’t mean you don’t spend all kind of time fantasizing about them.

—Dude. She looked down at herself and very quickly raised then lowered the front of her skirt.

—I bet it's the only way you can even masturbate. Isn't it? Stick a pair up your twat, get it all nasty—

—Dude. She turned and stared at him, hard. Her face was red. —Did you do something to me?

—What? Do what?

—Panties this, panties that, all of a sudden I'm fucking wearing them? What the fuck? She was practically shouting. She was too weirded out to care if anyone heard.

He looked concerned. He opened his hands and spread them wide. —Hey, I didn’t … I mean, I'm sorry but I don't—not like I have magic— He looked around and then dropped his voice. —You know what, nobody’s really watching, it’s OK, just, you know, slip ‘em off, get rid of ‘em.

Keeping her head low, she raised her skirt over her hips, hooked the panties with her thumbs, coming only as far off the couch as she needed to, slid them rapidly off and then stuffed them between the cushions. She shuddered and smoothed her skirt back down. —Jesus, how did I leave the house with those things on.

—Well not there! He waved at the panties’ burial ground. —You want somebody finding them?

Hurriedly she pulled them back out of the couch. —Ok so well what do I do then?

The panties were red and lacy. She dangled the fabric off her thumb, keeping the rest of her hand well away.

He took them from her, made a couple folds, then rolled them into a neat wad. —Open up.

He packed the panties in her mouth and pushed her chin up. She looked mildly surprised. —Ok, that’s good. And this way at least you know they can’t get back on you again. Keep ‘em out of sight till you can find a trashcan or something.

There was a brief awkward silence between them. Her eyes seemed to lose focus. He looked out toward the dance floor, and her gaze drifted after him. For a few moments they both stared out at the dancers.

—Oh wa bougha bahm?

—What's that? He gestured toward her mouth. —Pop ‘em out a sec, I can’t understand you.

—What about the blonde? That one. The one you said was like, practically crying out to you.

—Oh her! Oh yeah. Sorry, all the excitement, whatever … Yeah, well, like I was telling you: that girl’s wearing panties.

—Oh wuh! She shot him an exasperated look and took the panties back out of her mouth. —So she’s wearing panties, so what! Women generally do?

—But that’s my point, that kind of girl? Absolutely should not be. Way she’s dancing, I bet you any money she wears the kind of panties girls like her end up getting in trouble with.

Somehow he had managed to catch the blonde’s eye. He raised his hand and made a gesture like he was summoning a waiter. —Tell me you don’t see it. All those predators circling, she hasn’t got a fuckin’ clue.

She listened and nodded, panties tucked safely in her mouth, and watched the blonde slithering and pinballing herself towards them across the floor. She looked a little drunk.

He turned to talk closer to her ear. —See you, you’re experienced, right? Kind of girl knows the score. Soon as you saw you had those panties on you just whiffed ‘em right off like, couldn’t do it fast enough.

—Her though? I mean, look at her. The blonde was smiling in their direction. He waved.  —That girl needs a benefactor.

—Hey! I’m Tara! The girl planted herself between them in front of the couch with her arms clasped behind her. She swayed in place slightly.

—Hi Tara! Hey listen, I need you to settle a bet, OK? Tell my friend here about your panties. Describe ‘em to her.

—Oh! Tara’s chipper didn’t fade. —Sure! They’re like, um, Brazilian? Kind of high cut? Black. They make my butt look cute. Tara flirted her ass around so she could look back and admire it.

—Ah beh.

Tara looked at her, confused.

—She says she thinks they really do make your butt look cute.

—Oh thanks! Oh and also? There’s like this panel in front, this peek-a-boo lace thing? She looked down and blushed. —Most of the front really. But you can’t really see anything. I mean, it’s not all the way see-through.

He arched an eyebrow at his couchmate. She leaned towards him. She tried to enunciate. —Aigh, oh ah oo aw heb uh?

She sighed and put her hand up to her mouth but he waved her off. —But see I’m not gonna help her. You are.

She made a skeptical, interrogative face at him. Tara was staring aimlessly at the wall behind them, still swaying.

—Come on, huh? I know you. Think I don’t know the deal with that panty drawer? You finally break down, stank up one a them really sexy numbers, stick it over your face and start coming your brains out? He nodded up at Tara. —As if this isn’t exactly the kind of bitch you’re imagining riding you.

Her eyes were glued to the blonde. There was a trace of drool at the corner of her mouth.

—See this is what I’m saying. About my ethics. I help you, you help her. He settled back and put an arm up on the armrest. —Pay it forward. Tara here loses herself a dangerous pair of panties, and you get a hot-girl trophy. That's what that drawer's really for, right? Start a collection.

She looked at him with a wild expression. Her eyes were smoldering.

—They got a bathroom right off the second-floor landing. You won’t be interrupted. Easiest trick you'll ever have, take her up there, make out with her, finger her or whatever; only make sure the panties stay on. Make sure she's wearing 'em when she comes. He looked at Tara and snickered. —Because she will come for you. Trust me. Probably soaked already.

—Hey Tara! You’re gonna go along with my friend here, I want you to do whatever she wants, OK?

Tara bounced on her heels. —OK!

—And then tell her to give 'em to you. He reached for his couchmate’s mouth. —You make her peel off those nasty cummed-on panties; he took out the wad of red lace, —you ball ‘em up all nice, just like this; he mimicked doing it again, and she opened her mouth, —and bam! shove ‘em right in there. She'll follow you around the whole rest of the night. Your own little sorority-chick meat puppet.

He smirked. —Don't say I never gave you nothin'. She stared at him wide-eyed for a few seconds. Her hand made a gesture toward her mouth but she thought better of it. Instead she leaned forward and put her lips to his cheek.

She and Tara were a couple steps away, hand in hand, when he called back to her. —Hey, hang on a sec.

He stood up. —Gimme your purse. He flashed her a business card and dropped it in.

—That’s my private line on there. Tell you what, you start getting a few trophies in that drawer, you give me a call, OK? See if there isn’t something else I can help you with.

She turned at the bottom of the stairs to look back at him. He gave her a thumbs-up. She winked, then disappeared with her prize.