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Live The DareChapter 2: Live The Dare free porn video
After firmly shaking my hand, Brad headed inside moments before Julie joined me on the porch. Following Brad's lead I asked, "Hey Jules, you ready to go?"
"Only my friends are allowed to call me Jules," she snapped before smiling sweetly and accepting my hand.
Talk about mixed signals! Not quite sure if Julie was rude or just nervous, I gave her the benefit of the doubt and, shrugging off her reply, led us towards the Metro.
Attempting to break the ice I asked, "So what would you like to do?"
"Whatever," Julie replied with a shrug, letting go of my hand as she briefly rummaged in her purse and pulled out a tube of lip gloss.
"Alright, well would you like to hangout near Dupont?"
"Sure," she replied dismissively as we approached the Woodley Park Metro station.
"Cool," I called out as I chased after her down the steps. Even though Julie wasn't wearing heals, her shoes were very loud and I had to force myself not to cringe as she clanged her way down the left side of the escalator.
Once we entered the station I again tried to jumpstart the conversation.
"I know there are plenty of ethnic restaurants we could go to in Georgetown for dinner."
"Yeah," she agreed while heading over to the Glenmont side of the platform.
I was trying to be patient and give Julie time to come around, but even the way she stood, with one hip jutted out and a hand on her hip spoke volumes about how she'd rather not be there. Even her eyes radiated how she'd expected more from her Docent.
Growing slightly uncomfortable with the situation, I was glad when our train pulled into the station a few moments later. Once aboard I asked what I hoped to be good conversation starters like, 'Do you have any hobbies?' or given the location of her house, 'Ever hang out in the National Zoo?' Yet while Julie did loosen up some and even asked a question once, the initial disappointment of our meeting hung like a moldy shroud on her shoulders.
I tried asking if there was anything in particular she wanted to work on, but after pointedly glancing towards the other passengers on the train she didn't bother to reply. Instead she gave me a look that telegraphed, 'With you? Is that a joke?'
Alright, so maybe I'm putting words in her mouth, but by the time we exited the Metro I was losing patience with her apathetic attitude. I knew my 'First Date' was supposed to be a humbling experience and had anticipated having a difficult or demanding client. Yet apathy was the kiss of death for any client evening as you can't force someone to learn.
Hoping that the change of scenery would help break the ice, I led us to the park in the center of Dupont Circle. As the weather was still nice, the park was rather crowded and there were numerous people milling around the semicircular benches that surrounded the central fountain.
Since the usual conversation starters had failed I tried a different track and started rattling off the history I'd read about the park. Julie seemed to barely stay awake as I briefly summarized Admiral Samuel Francis Dupont's accomplishments in the American Civil War. Pressing on, she actually yawned when I remarked on how the fountain was designed by the same people who created the Lincoln Memorial.
Sitting us on one of the benches and running out of ideas, I decided to try one of my favorite games from the Institute.
"Do you want to play Live the Dare?"
"What's that?" Julie asked in a rather uninterested voice.
"It's a game we play at the Institute."
"How could a game played at the Institute be any fun if I've never heard of it?"
Julie's tone was dismissive, but eyes challenged me to prove her wrong. For the first time Julie seemed slightly interested, yet I didn't want to appear desperate for her attention. Ideally I wanted her to take the initiative come to me, but figured in this case it may be necessary to goad her a bit.
"You're right. It'd probably be too difficult for you."
"What!" she shrieked before quickly covering her mouth. After visibly willing herself to relax, she demanded, "Wait; at least explain the game first."
Mentally I was doing back flips at her new found interest, but didn't want to sound too eager.
"I don't know..."
With an exasperated sigh Julie turned to face me on the bench.
"Fine, I'll play. Now, what are the rules?"
"The basic premise is rather simple in that we each dare the other to do something. You get one point for attempting the dare and one point if you actually succeed. The person with the most points at the end wins."
"And if I refuse a dare?"
"Then you lose five points and must Live the Dare."
"Live it how?" Julie suspiciously asked.
"Well if I dared you to kiss the man over there and you refused, then you'd have to kiss me instead. Either way the dare must be attempted or fulfilled."
Almost reluctantly, Julie allowed her interest to show.
"So what do you win?"
"That depends," I hedged. "At the Institute it would have been bragging rights if a large group had been playing or perhaps something a bit more intimate."
When Julie blanched, I hastily added, "But that probably wouldn't be appropriate."
As if tossing her perfect persona aside, Julie blushed and quickly nodded her head.
I could tell she was intrigued by the game, but wanted to suggest a prize she'd be willing to fight for. It had to be something at least a little juicy or she'd never go for it, but I didn't want anything too degrading.
Setting the hook, I offered, "What about the loser has to loudly sing, 'I'm a Little Tea Pot' in a public place?"
Once again Julie hesitated, but this time I could tell exactly when she'd made her decision as suddenly her eyes took on a devious gleam.
"Perfect!"
Assuming she was contemplating all kinds of possible dares I cautioned, "Remember, the game gets more challenging as the dares get more specific. Also, I will make my dares just as challenging as yours so be careful what you ask."
As if finally sensing that I wasn't just going to roll over or go easy on her, Julie began to pout.
"That's not fair; you've played more than me."
"I told you it would be difficult, but there's no rule against asking me for advice. Or did you want to just sing 'I'm a Little Tea Pot' now and get it over with?"
At her look of indignation I decided to cut off any biting reply by asking, "Are you ready to start?"
"Of course!" she snapped before adding, "How about you ask first?"
"Sure, you see that guy over there," I said pointing to a guy chilling on the bench about twenty feet away. When Julie nodded I finished, "What's his middle name?"
"Too easy," Julie replied and practically jumped off the bench.
As I watched Julie talk up the guy, the Institute photographer discretely waved to get my attention. Perched on one of the benches opposite us, he had a clear shot of where I was sitting yet made it appear as if he were taking pictures of the fountain. He blended near perfectly with the other tourists and I doubt Julie even noticed him. In fact, once she returned I forgot all about him.
Almost five minutes later Julie rushed over to our bench and triumphantly announced, "Alfred!"
"Not a bad start," I agreed but couldn't resist adding, "but next time there will have to be a time limit."
"Well with a middle name like Alfred I bet you'd also hesitate," she replied with more than a little attitude.
"And can you blame him if most people share your reaction?" Not waiting for her reply I continued, "It's all about making people comfortable; if people are comfortable around you then you can talk about just about anything."
Perhaps miffed at my rebuke, Julie seemed to struggle to come up with a very personal dare for me before pointing and asking, "Oh yeah, then what's her bra size?"
Squinting slightly in the bright sun I carefully watched as the girl rotated slightly so her profile became visible, "Easy, she's a 32B."
Rolling her eyes, Julie clarified, "No, I meant get her to tell you."
"Sure, just a sec," I replied as I got up and headed over.
I went over, introduced myself. She had the definite feel of a little sister, but I didn't quite feel like pulling my trump card. Instead I came clean, explained that she, while pointing over my shoulder at Julie, had dared me to do something really embarrassing. Even though after training at the Institute, this was a fairly tame conversation I decided to work the 'I'm an embarrassed teenager' angle. Blushing I stammered, "Um, so I'm supposed to ask ... um ... what's your bra size?"
At first she just laughed but when she saw I was serious, and after plenty of ribbing from her friends she proudly claimed to be a 32C. Of course I nearly choked as, since it was quite warm and she was wearing a very tight top ... well let's just say I looked incredulous. Noticing my reaction, the girl's face darkened and reaching down to grab the hem of her shirt she offered to prove it.
Still playing out my role I blushed furiously, politely declined, and nearly ran back to the bench where Julie was laughing her ass off.
"She looked pissed," Julie gasped between laughs. "Looks like you almost got more than you bargained for."
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