"Hey," Amber greeted as she opened the car door. Finally they could leave and spend hours and hours together, cuddling or fucking or talking or whatever else they damned pleased. (She drew the line at spoon-feeding each other, though. That was beyond the limit.) This morning they weren't able to follow up through their various interesting beginnings, and the night before, Amber's feelings had gotten in the way of the real conclusion to any sex. On the verge of getting what she wanted, she realized just how frustrated she was with the waiting.

The orange on her seat cut through her lustful and ambitious fantasies. "What's this?" she asked, picking the object up, wondering if it was some present. But Amber was pretty sure Eric could deliver a better gift than a day-glow sheet of paper, even on short-notice. Her eyes skimmed the big, playful letters as she settled in her seat; Howl-I-Day was a terrible pun. If the name was that bad, the rest would be even worse. And, as much as Amber wanted sex, she wanted fun, too-- which this festival promised to be. She could delay her gratification just a bit longer, for the sake of other amusements. "I bet this is awful," Amber said, grinning and waving the sheet at Eric. "Let's go mock the hell out of it." If he'd thought the porn lines were embarrassing, he'd probably hate the poor puns even more. Which was why she'd said it, just to tease him.