She smacked me across the cheek. “Fuck you, asshole!” She said, getting loud. “I’m not fat, I’m pregnant.”“Oh, shit. I’m sorry. That j...st wasn’t the first thing I thought of,” I said, looking back down at her belly. “How far along are you?”She was looking down at her belly too while rubbing it slowly. “Almost four months. I’m just starting to show.”“Oh, so, is that why you’re upset about breaking up with your boyfriend?” I asked.“No. I don’t think he’s the daddy,” she said.“Oh, you don’t think?. This was it. Do I follow through and risk it being a trap or do I call it a night and be proud I made it this far?I remembered the picture of the girl. She was petite with long, black hair, pale skin, and small breasts. Exactly my type. The photo had a clean room and she even smiled in the picture. I imagined walking in and seeing her in the same lingerie that the photo featured--thin, black lace that revealed her pink nipples and succulent clit. Fuck it. If it's a trap, oh well., I thought.I. More

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