Chemistry 101

When you're in a relationship with someone, you should have a lot of chemistry right? Well this isn't your typical story of a guy trying to seduce an innocent girl. No, my name is Jenna Hamilton and I'm trying to seduce Marcel Styles. My own boyfriend.


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2. Two

 

I guess I should explain how this whole seduction business began.

 

 

A week or two ago Marcel came over to my house to work on a project for our history class. My mom had gone out to dinner with a few friends, leaving us with the place to ourselves for a few hours. (Yes that's how far my sweet reputation has gone. My mother had trustingly left two hormonally-charged teenagers home alone on a Saturday night. Someone please stop this madness!)

 

Anyways for a while Marcel and I were in my bedroom carefully completing a timeline of San Francisco's fascinating past. We remained sprawled on the ground, a huge piece of poster board between us and markers littered around us. But at some point, when Marcel was researching on his laptop, I started to realize just how handsome he looked and began to steal glances of him. This last year had been pretty good to him. He gained a few inches and bulked up quite nicely since last year. Heck, even the way his brown hair was styled perfectly on his head was extremely sexy.

 

"What?" Marcel asked, looking at me with a slightly bemused expression.

 

 

"Nothing." I quickly answered, wiping up any excess drool and fixing my eyes back on to the face of John W. Geary—San Francisco's first mayor.

 

 

"Are you feeling okay?" He sounded genuinely concerned.

 

 

"Sorry Marcel, it's just…very warm in here," I said.

 

 

I did actually feel my cheeks grow a bit hot. Slowly I unbuttoned my sweater, revealing a tiny white tank top I'd put on earlier. For practical purposes. Yeah. . . because low cut tops help me concentrate on schoolwork better. After tossing the garment on to my bed, I ran a hand through my long curly hair a few times and put it up into a messy bun. All the while I felt Marcel's eyes on me. At last, this was the opportunity I was looking for.

 

 

"Marcel?" I peered at him with a carefully feigned look of bemusement. I'm not exactly sure what I looked like to him but I imagined that my eyes had turned as round as saucers, brimming with innocent sensuality. Hah, Lolita had nothing on me.

 

 

Marcel swallowed hard and looked away, trying to look at anything but my chest—which threatened to pop out of my tank top at any moment.

 

 

"Jenna, what are you doing?" he asked in surprise, unconvinced that his sweet girlfriend would act in such a way. He quickly got up and ran to the windows, opening them.

 

 

"But honey, won't it get too cold? I think its sprinkling a bit outside."

 

 

"N-no. It'll be fine. Just fine."

 

He stood in front of the open window for quite some time, his hands clenching the windowsill. Finally he turned around, taking deep breaths, and sat back on to the floor. Picking up a marker, Marcel began to work on the project in earnest, almost puncturing the poster with the force of his blunt-tipped sharpie.

 

Obviously I was going to have to work a bit harder.

 

 

Letting out a yawn, I pulled both hands behind my back and stretched, sticking my breasts out to its furthest capacity.

 

 

He dropped the marker. But his eyes remained straight on the paper.

 

 

I reached across the poster, momentarily blocking Marcel's access to the assignment, and grabbed a marker. I did this ever so slowly, so as to offer Marcel an ample view of his scientist-turned-sex kitten girlfriend. I felt ridiculous, but it seemed to be working. . .

 

 

He was stiff and his eyes seemed to burn through me and remain fixated on the timeline. I placed my hand gingerly on his very tense thigh.

 

 

This appeared to be the last straw because all of a sudden I found myself on my back and Marcel on top of me. His lips were firmly planted on my own and I felt his hands settle on my hips and slowly creep their way up.

 

 

Now this was more like it.

 

 

I happily played along, kissing him and running my fingers through his hair. I even ignored the markers that were digging into my back. Sure we've kissed before, heck we've even made out a few select times. But never with this much vigor. Suddenly I began to really feel that all-consuming passion I'd secretly read in romance novels.

 

 

And then, just as quickly as it began, it ended. He abruptly snapped back into Sir Marcel-A-Lot mode. As if struck by lightning he disentangled himself from me and hightailed it out of my room and into the balcony. By then the sprinkling I'd alluded to earlier had escalated to a full-fledged downpour.

 

 

Sighing, I got up and I walked over to my poor, tortured boyfriend.

 

 

"Marcel," I called out to him from the doorway.

 

 

"Yeah?"

 

"It's raining."

 

"I know."

 

"And it's cold."

 

"I know Jenna," He answered. "Believe me, I know."

 

Needless to say Marcel stayed out on my balcony for a very long time. So long in fact that I managed to watch TV for an hour, call up Taylor and even give myself a manicure before he finally retreated back inside.

 

"Hey Jenna?" Marcel was absolutely soaked and creating lakes on my hard wood floors.

 

"Yes, sweetie?" I inquired pleasantly.

 

"I should go now."

 

"What? But we're not done yet."

 

"Oh believe me we're done—I mean that's okay honey! I'll finish it myself." He picked up the timeline and headed down the stairs and through the door. I would also like to add that he did all this without even kissing me on the cheek, as was customary.

 

On Monday he showed up to History with a runny nose and horribly put together timeline. It was so horrible in fact that I received my first B+ in years. Marcel refused to even look at me that day. Possibly because I was wearing a halter top. But what can I say? I'd forgotten to do the laundry and it was the only thing left in the closet. Really.

 

I don't get it. Marcel and I have been going out for quite some time. We had this great unshakable love for each other and he still treated me like a sister. Now I wouldn't venture to call myself some lust-driven vixen but even I got a little antsy. I decided then and there to take the bull by the horns. I wanted Marcel to look at me with that all-consuming passion, his eyes filled with love. . . and yes lust as well.

 

But how was I going to do that?

 

 

Thanks for the feedback on the last chapter! I hope you like this one :)

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