Anirudh gave Amy another slow once-over. Face-wise, she was an eight-out-of-ten match for Aurora, just missing that ripe, flirty edge.
Her low-cut gown didn't pop when she stood, but parked next to him? Oh yeah—he caught an eyeful of cleavage. Not as razor-tight as Aurora's killer line, but still rocking a solid D-cup.
Three loops of pearls hugged her neck, white jade earrings swaying lightly. She had this classy, chill vibe—like the sweet older sister next door all grown up.
"Truth or Dare!" Amy grinned softly.
"How's it work?" Anirudh blinked. Back home, fun was cards or chasing tail. No tail to chase, he'd hit the gambling tables—'til folks ran the second he showed. Couldn't blame 'em; he never lost.
"Piece of cake. Roll dice—highest wins. Loser spills a truth to the winner's question. Three losses in a row, you chug a cup. Five, it's dare time—loser does whatever the winner says," Amy laid out, cool and patient.
"Any question?"
"Yup…"
"Any dare's fair game?"
"Yup…"
"So if I win and say 'strip dance,' you're in?" Anirudh tossed out, all shy-like.
Amy's eyes rolled so hard they nearly popped out. This kid—barely legal and already a horn-dog. Still, Aurora's sneaky little assignment nagged at her. She bit down and growled, "Yeah, if you can beat me…"
Dice? She ruled this game. Not even Aurora could touch her. No way this punk was winning.
"Cool, let's roll. I suck at this, so go easy, alright?" Anirudh flashed a sheepish grin.
"Sure, I won't stomp you. Here we go…" Amy smirked, snagging a bamboo cup with five dice and shaking it like a pro. Her wrist snapped fast, dice banging out a da-da-da rhythm. Then—bam—she slammed it down with a crisp thwack.
Smooth as hell. Anirudh's eyes bugged, jaw dangling.
"Master…" he muttered, starstruck.
"Psh, child's play. You're up…" Amy grinned, cocky as ever.
Anirudh fumbled for his own dice cup, peeked at hers on the table, and tried her move. He yanked it back—dice scattered like confetti.
"Whoops, my bad…" He dropped to grab them, sneaking a look at Eleanor's crew. Aurora's skirt flared just enough—his hawk eyes clocked black panties in a flash.
Subtle as a ninja, he scooped up the dice, killed the skirt-staring, and hit Amy with a bashful smile. Tossing them in, he skipped the shake and smashed the cup down with a loud clang.
Amy's grin stretched wider at his rookie flailing.
"Alright, flip it!" she chirped, popping her cup off like a champ.
Anirudh peeked: three sixes, one five, two threes—twenty-eight points.
"I'm screwed…" he moaned, face crumpling, dragging his cup up like it weighed a ton.
Six dice stared back: all fives.
"Hell yeah, I win!" Anirudh lit up like he'd hit the Powerball. Amy slapped her forehead—cursed by luck. This guy's dice mojo was nuts.
"Fine, I'm out. What's your question?" Amy sighed, dodging any dance demands.
"What's worth asking?" Anirudh pouted, playing bummed.
"Whatever you want—hit me!" Amy waved, all big-sister generous.
"For real?"
"Spit it out!" Amy snapped, grabbing her wine for a quick sip. She was parched.
"What color's your bra today?"
"Pfft—" Wine sprayed everywhere. Eyes locked on her; she coughed, "No biggie, too strong—caught me off guard…"
Eleanor and crew went "Oh," spinning back to their chaos, but Eleanor and Aurora swapped a sneaky glint.
"You little creep, of all the damn questions…" Attention off, Amy hissed at him, low and fierce.
"Heh, you said anything…" Anirudh snickered, eyes dipping to her chest. She leaned in a hair, those pale curves teasing out more.
A smidge more tilt, and he'd have scoped that bra himself.
"Purple-black…" Amy shot him a flustered glare, cheeks pink as she mumbled.
Spilling bra deets to some dude she just met? Total cringe.
"Heh…" Anirudh grinned, snagging the dice and giving them a quick table shake. He froze mid-move and nodded. "Done—you're up."
Amy glared daggers, grabbed her cup, and went to town. She'd trained for this—not pinpoint perfect, but big numbers? Her specialty.
The cup flipped and spun in her grip, then—bam—down it went with a solid thud.
"Show it. No way you're beating me again…" she scoffed, flipping her lid. Anirudh matched her, and they checked the damage. Hers: four sixes, one five, one four—thirty-three points. His: five sixes, one five—damn near a clean sweep.
Amy's gut tanked. This kid's luck was straight-up cheating reality.
He could pull that off?