The only thing they shared

Gregory rested himself on Abigail and almost laughed. She took a quick glance to see who it was. Then released a sigh of relief. It was their duty to convincingly pose for the camera. But she didn’t make any effort to move away from his advances. Gregory knew Abigail very well; and he knew a friendly photo with some ice pops would preoccupy her mind. Maybe even put her at ease. So when she neglected to deny his gentle approach, he suspected she was seduceable. Needless to say, her display of comfort foreshadowed her downfall. The photo was only a way to get his foot in the door, metaphorically speaking. And with all those wonderful ice pops, Abigail had to know she was a target. And not just a target for thirst-quenching sweet-tooths, like Gregory, but the target of a textbook case of first degree rape.

By distracting Abigail with a box full of Assorted Flavored Fun Pops, Gregory knew he could entertain her long enough to take advantage of the situation that would follow. Once they were done posing, all bets were off. He had the evening planned out, and he knew exactly how to soften her up; what to do, where to go. He didn’t care anymore if they were “just friends.” He knew he had to have her. All while he perversely forced analogies into his daydreaming: like the ice treat he once provided to keep her happy, he yearned for the moment all the ice melts away, and only the juice remains in the plastic sleeve, temporarily quenching his unyielding thirst for more.

It took only five minutes alone with Abigail before Gregory found out she used to be a dude.