<div class="floatright">(http://imageshack.us/a/img825/6530/affphot01.jpg)</div><strong>Name:</strong>Vivian Abasi<br/><strong>Time:</strong>Earlier in the School year<br/><strong>Tagging:</strong>Elizabeth<br/><br/>It was awkward to lean over in that way, her knees slightly bent, her back arched so that she could come face to face with her blindfolded friends. Her own hands tied behind her back wit ha surprising amount of care taken so that she could not move her arms or hands very well at all. Her friend's eyes hidden behind a similar makeshift tie-restraint. Pink lips held a red strawberry the quiver of uncertainty or perhaps the quiver of the awkward way that the strawberry needed to be held. Dark locks of hair fall forward as she continues to close with the strawberry held by the lips of her best friend.<br/><br/><span class="bbc_size" style="font-size: 12pt;"><em>Begin</em></span><br/><br/>Her own dark lips form around the wider, bulbous 'top' of the strawberry, forming around the fruit to help hold it in place. Her jaw works, opening while her mouth strains to hold the strawberry in place.<br/><br/><span class="bbc_size" style="font-size: 12pt;"><em>Nibble</em></span><br/><br/>A small bite, the jostling of the strawberry a clear sign that Elizabeth had taken a small bite as well. Was it getting warm in here? Sweat already began to accumulate on her dark brown skin giving it a surreal shine in the dimmed lights that illuminated the room only partially. The thought of the beautiful blonde's lips floated through her mind. Of course she had noticed how beautiful her friend was, how... Where she not so afraid of what might happen she would have gladly simply kissed the girl... Isn't that a Disney song?<br/><br/><span class="bbc_size" style="font-size: 12pt;"><em>Nibble</em></span><br/><br/>She had to move her lips, forward to hold the strawberry as two small bites had taken the top off of the small piece of fruit. Her lips go taught, holding the strawberry in place so that Elizabeth could take her own bite. A tingling feeling, not in the hands where it should be, but a feeling of warmth of... excitement in somewhere far more intimate, perhaps it was a bad idea to wear dark pants? And perhaps the lacy, and not particular absorbent undergarments were -also- a bad idea.<br/><br/><span class="bbc_size" style="font-size: 12pt;"><em>Nibble</em></span><br/><br/>She could not lean in this position anymore, a squeak fills the room as a foot slides forward on the hardwood floor. It was too hard to hold the strawberry now, it kept slipping, threatening to spin, to move, to dislodge. It had to be done, it was the only way to keep going!<br/><br/><span class="bbc_size" style="font-size: 12pt;"><em>Contact</em></span><br/><br/>Soft, incredibly soft... Dreamy sort of soft. The type of lips that one could only hope to press theirs against once in their lifetime. Nearly as red as the fruit that they held between them, but who could tell anymore? Brown lips come flush to pink counterparts. The strawberry? An afterthought as the only thing she could -think- of is the lips that now pressed against her own. It was a dream. The Captain of the squad, the shoe-in homecoming queen. And that is who she had her lips pressed against right now. The bad part? She did not want to stop, that contact, that sweet, aching contact, that... that was something she was at this moment, at this time unwilling to part.