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  1. George Groves & Kate: The Groper
  2. George Groves & the Girl: A Sexy Game

George Groves & Kate: The Groper

Categories Sex Joke, Authoritarian, Reluctance, School

Authror: TheMartinKnight

Published: 07 May 2018

  • Font:

George Groves & Kate

Author: Early 20s, male, USA, single, straight, handsome (or so they say). Getting my life started. Doing this for kicks.

Info: This isn’t a continuous series. You can read each of these “George Groves” stories separately. They are each structured differently, and have different characteristics.

Cheers.


___

“You know, I groped a girl once.”

What?! Tell me about it.”

“I will. But I want you to hear me out first. Hear my position.”

“What position? What do you mean?”

George cleared his throat. “Well, I have this theory about women. But it ties to my first theory, the one about ass-grabbing. So let me explain that one first… Can I explain?”

“Dude, whatever.”

“Cool. Well, let’s say we were both alone in a room – you’re a girl, I’m a dude. Now if I walked up to you and tapped your shoulder, what would you do? Sure, if I was a hobo of some sort, you’d maybe be a little nervous. In fact, you might not even be nervous. Maybe just tense. But let’s not even leave that to conjecture. Let’s just say I’m clean-cut, and you’re clean-cut. Suits and everything. So if I’m clean-cut, and you’re clean-cut, and I tap you on your shoulder, what would you do? You’d probably turn around and smile, right? Let’s say I’m pretty, too. You’d smile, wouldn’t you? You’d smile and wait for me to introduce myself.

“Now let’s say it’s the same scenario, and I walk up to you. Let’s say, instead of tapping your shoulder, I put my hand on your shoulder blade. Now what would you do? You’d turn around and smile, right? Remember, I’m not a hobo – I’m pretty. You’d turn around and smile and wait for me to introduce myself.

“Now, let’s say it’s the same scenario again, and I walk up to you, just like before. But, instead of tapping your shoulder or touching your shoulder blade, I rest my hand on your lower back. In this situation, what would you do? You’d turn around and smile, wouldn’t you? In this scenario, maybe your smile would be forced. Maybe you’d feel a little uncomfortable. But you would recognize that you don’t have the position to push me off aggressively. Because touching your lower back, especially when I haven’t even communicated my intentions to you, doesn’t pass the assault threshold yet, right? So you’d turn around, smile, and wait for me to introduce myself.

“Finally, let’s say it’s the same thing, and I walk up to you and grab your ass. What would you do? Maybe you’d turn around and slap me in the face. Maybe you’d stare at me like a deer in headlights and then make a lot of noise. Maybe you’d just skip the stare and start making noise. Whatever you do, you sure as hell wouldn’t turn around, smile, and wait for me to introduce myself, right?

“But why? What makes the ass, which is only a half-foot away from the lower back, which is only a half-foot away from the shoulder blade, which is only a half-foot away from the shoulder, so sacred that even touching it would inspire your outrage? Why would touching the ass be considered a violation, where touching the shoulder is a mere greeting? I’d posit that the ass cheeks, in and of themselves, don’t really represent anything sacred. You wouldn’t be triggered if I grabbed your waste bin, right? So why would you be triggered by my grabbing your ass, the human source of waste?

“I’ll tell you the answer to all these thought-provoking questions. It’s because the ass is closer to the vagina than the lower back, which is closer to the ass than the shoulder blade, which is closer to the lower back than the shoulder. You see, as your hand moves closer to the vagina from the shoulder, you scale up what I call the levels of sexual clearance.

“Sexual clearance?” John had never heard of that term before.

“Sexual clearance is basically the extent of a woman’s willingness to relinquish her sex to you. Basically, if I haven’t met you yet, and I jump straight to grabbing ass cheeks, you’d want to kill me, right? You’d want to kill me because I skipped levels of sexual clearance. In others words, I’ve encroached upon your vagina without you feeling comfortable enough to allow me to encroach upon your vagina.

“But why does this matter? Do you not like it because I’m making sexual overtures to you when I haven’t proven my sexual attractiveness? Is it because you haven’t yet received sufficient proof of my good genes, or my ability to raise and lead a family?

“Nope. All of that is evolutionary, biological bullshit. Humans don’t think like that. The reason you don’t like it when I grab your ass when you don’t know me is because I’m disregarding your own control over your body. It’s because, in skipping the many levels of your sexual clearance, I’m seizing your power.

“This is why powerful men love groping women. It’s why weak men fantasize about being able to do it. It’s because, to grab some ass cheeks and get away with it represents having the power to violate a woman’s sexual clearance – her consent – and get away with it.

“But this theory of ass grabbing leads me to another point. And that point is this: what difference does it make if I grab your ass versus touch your shoulder? Surely, if I grab your ass without your consent, your perception of your own power will change, but, in the long run, does that really matter? I mean, if you were starving, dehydrated, emaciated, and stranded somewhere, would it really matter to you whether or not your perception of your own power was strong or weak? No, you’d be more concerned about surviving thru the end of the day, right?

“So, in other words, a woman’s perception of her own power is a luxury. It is something that doesn’t have to exist. Of course, we would all love to drive Ferraris, but in the end we don’t mind the fact that we don’t have them, yes?”

John interrupted. “Well, that’s respect, isn’t it? Basically – and, correct me if I’m wrong – but basically, you’re saying that you don’t have to respect a woman because, at the end of the day, she won’t really need respect to survive.”

George replied. “You see, John, this is why I like you. I tell you I grope a woman and you don’t mind having a civil conversation about my position on the groping.”

“Well, you did help me with that thing that one time. So we’re cool for life, essentially.”

“Awesome. Well anyway, it is about respect.”

“Well then, I guess your position is worthless,” John retorted, “because, in the end, it’s better to respect a woman than not to. So you’re wrong no matter how you look at it.”

“This conversation isn’t over at all. I’ll tell you why: you might expect me to respect a woman and her wishes. But what about me? What about my wishes? It might be my wish to feel your ass. Why should I respect your wishes as a woman when you don’t make any effort to respect my wish?”

“Well, it’s different, right?”

“How?”

“I mean… I dunno. I guess there’s a difference between me wanting to grab your ass and you not wanting to get your ass grabbed. One desire is offensive and the other is defensive.”

George smiled. “You would think that, wouldn’t you? Anyone would. But understand this: it’s offensive to me that you don’t respect my offensive wish. It’s disrespectful that you prioritize your own defensive wish without any regard for my offensive one. You see, a woman’s decision to respect my wishes can’t be defined absolutely as a right or a wrong. Particularly in this case, it’s totally subjective. If I were the emperor of Rome, and some woman were my subject, she wouldn’t have a problem with me groping her, would she? She might even enjoy it as a sign of my imperial favor. If I were a fellow subject, however, she would perceive the act as a sexual assault, right? But what difference does the act of groping make on her physical state of being? The point is, in the end, does it really matter if I respect her defensive wish, or if she respects my offensive one? I’d say no. Respect is a luxury, no matter how you look at it.

“It’s like beer. If I took your beer away from you, you wouldn’t like me for it. After all, it’s disrespectful to you, in light of your desire to drink. But, at the end of the day, whether or not you were able to take an extra swig of beer doesn’t really matter at all, does it? Beer is just a luxury.”

“But it isn’t a polite thing to do.” replied John facetiously.

George smiled again. “Aha! You’ve confirmed my point. Is ‘politeness’ necessary? Or is it a luxury? Luxuries, when necessary, become expendable. Think of the woman who sucks her professor’s cock to pass a class. Surely her dignity is important to her. But she throws it away as soon as she needs to. It’s a luxury.”

“But she’s doing it on her own terms.”

“That’s beside the point. When a person throws his life away on his own terms, what do we call that?”

“Suicide.”

“Exactly? And how does society perceive suicide?”

“As the product of mental illness.”

“Once again, exactly. Even though a man does the action on his own terms, life is so necessary that the expending of it must be prevented. In other words, life isn’t a luxury. But one’s perception of their own power? Is that necessary? Not at all.”

John sighed. “Alright, let’s take a step back, though. If I slapped you right now, then, in your own words, I’d be offending your desire not to be slapped. I’d be assaulting your sense of dominance, your sense of control over your own body. I’d be disrespecting you. So you’d be okay with that, right? Because those things are just luxuries to you.”

George laughed. “John, if you slapped me, I’d slap you right back.”

John smiled. “I can’t win with you, can I? Just skip the rest of this philosophical bullshit and tell me about the time you groped a girl.”

“Okay, fine. But first, you have to say: ‘George, I agree with you.’”

John sighed and paused for a moment before consenting. “George, I agree with you.”

George chuckled. “Okay, now I’ll tell you my story.”

___________

“Kate, I have heard rumors that you are the most rational, logically-oriented woman on the entire campus. Are these rumors true?”

“Yes.”

“Well I’ve got this theory about women and ass-grabbing that I want you to hear. What do you say?”

Kate was taken aback to the point of flinching. She’d never had a person, let alone one she barely knew, approach her with such an absurd request. And, because the pair were all alone somehow, she was even a bit concerned. “Um, ass-grabbing? Are you insane?”

“Ask me what I mean about ‘ass-grabbing’ and I will explain.”

Kate was still a bit concerned about her situation, but her rational, logical nature created in her an ever-expanding curiosity. If only she could hear his theory, she would be able to utterly destroy it (with reason). And, because the two were alone somehow, she did not have to worry about shutting George down in order to maintain an acceptable image in the face of such an outrageous remark. But her feminine instinct prevented her from moving past playing hard-to-get.

“I think you’re crazy.” she said emptily.

“If you thought I was crazy, you would’ve walked away. There’s nothing holding you back from leaving.” George pointed to the door of this unusually isolated room. “If I’m so crazy, then surely my theory is as absurd as it seems. But how can you discern that if you haven’t even heard the details of my theory in the first place?”

Kate’s curiosity increased with every second. She wanted to hear what he had to say. But she still wasn’t prepared to give in to him. She remained silent for a few seconds.

“Alright, fine Kate. Let me ask you a question. Let’s say… let’s say the two of us are in a room, alone – just like we are now – except your back is turned to mine. Let’s say you’re a woman, and I’m a man, just like we are. And let’s say I’m really handsome. Now, if I walked up to and placed my hand on your shoulder…” George placed his hand on Kate’s exposed shoulder, “…what would you do?”

Kate felt a tad-bit uncomfortable about George touching her, particularly after he’d made such an odd remark. But she was so fixated on what George was saying that she didn’t really mind him. “My back is turned to you, so you’ve approached me from behind, right?”

“Yep.”

“Well I would probably turn around to see who you were. After all, the purpose of touching someone on the shoulder is to get their attention. And, judging by the fact that you mentioned you were handsome, I’d probably be disarmed on glancing at you.” Kate’s apprehensions were dissipating as her mental wheels began to spin. Even though she’d developed into a beautiful woman, Kate was always more brains than body.

“Disarmed enough to smile, right?”

“I suppose so.”

“So, what you are telling me is that, if I approached you from behind – in the manner I just described, and under the circumstances I just described – you would turn around, smile, and wait for me to say whatever I had to say?”

“Yes.”

“Now, then. Let’s keep the scenario identical, and let’s say that, instead of placing my hand on your shoulder to grab your attention, I place my hand on your shoulder blade. Like so.” George took a diagonal step forward, so that he ended up next to her. He then slid his hand from her shoulder to her shoulder blade, his eyes fixed on hers’.

Kate, of course, was a bit taken aback by George’s sliding his hand down from her bare shoulder. But, because she wore a tank-top, only part of her shoulder blade was exposed. Besides, she was so fixated on trying to predict where this was going that she didn’t really mind his touching her. And, to some extent, Kate found the touching useful, because she could use her own reactions to inform her answers to the questions.

Kate processed for a few seconds, and then answered. “Well, to touch someone like you’re touching me now might suggest familiarity. I would turn around expecting to see someone I knew. In other words, I’d be disarmed from the moment the contact began. And, if I turned around and saw some handsome man I hadn’t met, maybe I’d be expecting him to flirt. I’d smile, but the smile would be more formal than polite, as had been the case in the first scenario.”

“I couldn’t have asked for a more thorough answer. Now – same scenario again – but this time, instead of touching you on your shoulder blade…” George slid his hand down to her lower back, “…I rest my hand on your lower back. Now what do you do?”

Once again, Kate was instinctually taken aback by the physical contact. But, once again, her fixation on the argument kept her from minding him.

“If I didn’t have a boyfriend, I’d be concerned. If I did, I’d be expecting to find him on the other end of that hand.”

“But…”

“But?”

“But you’d probably still turn around, smile, and wait for me to say something, right?”

“I guess so. The smile would be forced, and I would use it to diffuse the situation.”

“Smart. Now – same situation again – but, instead of touching your lower back, I touch your ass.” George carefully slid his hand down to her butt, as if doing so at a slower pace would somehow make it more acceptable.

He could feel more ass than he’d bargained for, as the grey leggings she wore were tighter than expected.

“Well, if you weren’t someone very close to me, I’d be afraid for my safety. And, even if you were someone close to me, I’d be apprehensive about allowing you to touch me like that in a public place, no matter the level of seclusion.” Only after Kate finished her remark did she realize George had his hand resting across her plump ass. She instantly swatted him away and backed up, dropping her water bottle in the process.

“Get your hand off my ass!” she exclaimed. If the room had been any less secluded, perhaps someone would’ve heard and barged in.

George smiled as he recoiled from her swatting him away. “I take it you wouldn’t be smiling at all, right?”

Kate angrily balled a piece of paper on the desk beside her and threw it at him. “Fuck you, George!” she exclaimed as the piece of paper bounced off his head.

George laughed a little after a soft flinch. “You see that?! That’s anger. Now here’s the second part: explain why you feel anger right now.”

Kate did in fact feel an immense anger. But, after George made his request, the very nature of this rage began to perplex her. Truly, why did the action make her angry? She knew George had just touched quite a few parts of her body. But none of those actions made her angry. What was it that made the ass objectively different from her lower back, and from her shoulder blade, and from her shoulder? She knew George’s intention wasn’t to do her harm. His actions were carried out merely for the purpose of establishing a theory. Perhaps, though, this was all a part of some elaborate ploy to feel her ass, for the purpose of sexual gratification?

As Kate mentally perused this last question, her mind exploded with ideas and thoughtful insights. She had an answer for George within seconds.

“You touching me that way represents, per our society’s standards, an overt sexual act. Now, before you argue that it’s okay to touch a woman like that (because society’s inception of some standard doesn’t really constitute anything scientifically tangible), I’d inform you that you can’t pick and choose the societal standards you don’t like and deem them groundless. In the end, we will both agree that society itself is necessary for our continued survival, and that all of its many rules should therefore be respected.”

“Hmm, I’m not so sure about that, but continue.” interrupted George.

“Anyway, I mentioned before that your touching me represented an overt sexual act. The undesired sexual touching of a woman would make the woman angry because of reasons rooted in instinct and evolution. Or at least, that is what you would think, right? But, when I got so angry a second ago, very little of it had to do with anything scientific. The reason I was so angry is because you ensnared me in your overt, sexual act without my consent.”

“In other words,” interrupted George, “I disregarded your power over your own body.”

“You disrespected me.”

“Yes!” exclaimed George. “Yes. You are smart.” George paused his dialogue for a moment as he paced closer to Kate. “Now, Kate, answer another question. What difference does it really make whether or not I respect you or disrespect you?”

George closed the remaining distance between himself and Kate, at which point he picked up her water bottle and placed it on the desk beside them. “I might respect you.” He then paused for a moment, smiling slightly as he stared into her eyes.

“Or I might disrespect you.” George then wrapped his arms around Kate and grabbed her ass cheeks through her tight leggings. He had such a hold on her that, if she hadn’t been wearing underwear, he would’ve been able to spread her ass in the pants.

Kate let out a surprised squeak as George’s big hands wrapped around her ass. She bent her forearms upward quickly and swatted his arms away. She then slapped George across his face, causing him to recoil.

George only smiled. “Or I might disrespect you.” he repeated after caressing his face for a few seconds. “At the end of the day, what difference does it make? Are you in any way injured by my-”

George was interrupted when Kate threw her water bottle at him.

“Ouch!” he exclaimed jokingly after it hit him square in the forehead.

“Fuck you!” she exclaimed, balling up another piece of paper and throwing it at him. This one hit him in the head, too.

“You have really good aim.” he remarked, laughing.

Oddly, Kate could feel a laughter welling up inside her. But she was still too angry at George, and allowing it to bubble up to the surface would have completely demolished her emotional position.

So she doubled down on her anger in an attempt to maintain it: she balled up and threw a third piece of paper at George. When it hit George’s forehead, his laughter only intensified.

Kate could no longer hold her laughter back and let out a light chuckle. She smiled and dropped her head slightly as her face reddened.

“You see!” exclaimed George as he pointed at Kate. “If my disrespecting you made a difference to your well-being, why would you be laughing? Are you any more hurt than you were a second ago?”

Kate’s mouth opened, as if to form speech. But no words flowed from her mouth. To George, it seemed as if he’d already beaten her in this argument. In his mind, she must’ve run out of things to say.

He smiled smugly. “I guess you’ve run out of things to say?”

“No.” she answered in a tone calmer than what George was expecting. “But, what you’ve just shown me is that actions speak louder than words.”

“What do you mean?” asked George, genuinely perplexed.

“Let me show you.” she replied.

And, without a moment’s hesitation, Kate walked up to George. As she looked him in the eye, she reached for his blue basketball shorts and grabbed his balls through the fabric.

She squeezed his nuts so tightly as to put a vice to shame. George let out what could have been characterized as a squeal, grimacing in an awful bout of pain.

He wrapped his hand around her wrist in an attempt to move her off him, but the pain was so immense that he could not even use his strength.

“I can respect you, or I can disrespect you. What difference does it make?” she said, mocking him as she tightened her grip further.

When she finally let go, George fell to his knees. After some time, he finally spoke up.

“That actually made a difference.” he whimpered as he held both his hands to the fabric covering his cock, as if the gesture would wipe away the lingering pain. “You probably killed my children.”

“I can imagine,” started Kate, ignoring George’s comment as she stood over him, “that you didn’t find that pleasant. Even though you suffered no bodily harm in my disrespecting you, I’m sure you do not enjoy the fact that you were disrespected.”

George left her statement unanswered as he tended to his balls. After a couple dozen seconds, he felt good enough to stand back up, picking up Kate’s water bottle as he did so and handing it to her.

“No,” he finally replied, “I will admit I did not enjoy that. And I will admit you didn’t do me any bodily harm. Or, at least, you didn’t do me any substantial bodily harm. But, at the end of the day, here I am. Standing right here, as good as new. You see, even though I was disrespected, I’m as fine as I was before the disrespectful act. So does it really matter who disrespects whom, and for what reason? At the end of the day, respect is a luxury. If I lived without it, I would still survive.”

“Maybe you’d survive after being disrespected once. Or twice, or three times. But if the one who disrespects you continues to do so, who’s to say he won’t end up destroying you? If you made it a habit to grab my ass, or if I made it a habit to squeeze your balls, how would the people in our lives perceive us? If they saw that you could be disrespected, why shouldn’t they disrespect you too? With all these people disrespecting you, who’s to say you won’t eventually be harmed physically, to the extent that your life would be threatened? ”

“That’s conjecture. Besides, in my initial scenario, the disrespect occurs when we are alone, such that the impact never extends beyond the two of us. The fact that I grabbed your ass, for example, will never be known by anybody outside this unusually secluded room.”

“But earlier you mentioned that respect is a luxury, and that you could survive without it. So, when you define respect, are you confining it to your ‘perfect world’ scenario, or are you speaking of it in practical terms?”

“I would like to change topics,” stated George abruptly, “to discuss society’s understanding of an ‘overt sexual act,’ as you described it, and how society’s standards aren’t right just by virtue of their existence.”

“In other words,” retorted Kate, “you’re losing and would like to dig yourself out of a grave?”

George ignored her. “Isn’t it true, Kate, that the same societal norms you speak so highly of once oppressed women? If these norms are as unassailable as you claim they are, then why are you here, at college, studying alongside men? Isn’t it true that, if we did not have the ability to pick and choose the norms of the past, we would not have been able to exclude female oppression from our society as a norm?”

“It’s true. But I’d argue that the process of removing the oppression from our society was one that society itself achieved as a unit. In other words, one man didn’t ignore oppression as a norm because he wanted to grope some woman.”

“You’re wrong. The changing of the norm requires single individuals to act as mavericks who push society to a point at which the norm can be collectively destroyed. Feminists were required to ensure that women got the vote.”

Kate’s mind raced as she thought of a response. But George didn’t give her time to speak up. “If it’s true that I, as an individual, can lead the change of a societal norm, to such an extent that the norm shifts, then am I truly wrong for doing something that might be frowned upon? Surely, something as vile as murder will always remain a societal negative. If we could all kill each other without consequence, society would collapse. But what about the evil grope? Would society collapse if this became a societal norm? Indulge me for a moment.”

George closed the small amount of distance between himself and Kate. He then passed right by her and stood behind her.

Before she could really process what was happening, George had his hand on her ass. Her whole body instantly lit up with anger. But, even after her body jerked slightly, she did not stop him. Out of her curiosity to hear what he had to say, she would indulge him (if only for a moment).

George continued. “Now, I’m sure your impulse right now is to throw your water bottle at me, or to ball up another piece of paper and hit me, or to squeeze my balls to death. But why? As my hand rests on your ass, and as I walk you through my thinking, am I actually committing some overt sexual act. Try to ignore society’s definition of what it means to be sexual. Do you truly think – absent and societal influences – I am attempting to be sexual with you right now?”

Kate thought for a few moments as George continued to rest his hand on her ass. Even as she felt he was sliding it (ever so cautiously) around her plump cheeks, she did not act on her anger. But she knew that George’s sliding his hands itself represented a counter to his own argument. She decided she would demonstrate this fact boldly.

“You know, George,” she started with a hint of smugness, “this is the second time you’ve demonstrated that actions speak louder than words.”

“You aren’t going to asphyxiate my balls again, are you?” replied George, recoiling slightly, but making sure to keep his hand on her gorgeous ass. How else could he have demonstrated his point?

“No.” said Kate. She moved forward far enough that George no longer had his hands on her ass. “I won’t need to exert that much energy.”

Kate grabbed hold of her grey leggings, and of her underwear, and pulled them down, revealing her bare ass and stunning George. As she pulled them down to her ankles, she bent, so that her pussy lips spread slightly. And, as she slowly stood, her firm, thick ass snapped back into place in a smooth motion. She then backed up far enough that George’s hand lay where it had been moments ago.

George was so stunned that he could not form a single word in his mind. His heart suddenly pounding, he placed his free hand on a desk, as if he needed the support to stand. His crotch began to light up as he processed the feeling of her soft, warm butt.

The two stood there like that in silence for several seconds, until Kate spoke up. “Come on, George. Don’t be shy.” she said in a tone whose character was both matter-of-factually and seductive.

She grabbed George’s wrist from behind and began to motion his hand around her ass. George stood there in awe as her butt cheeks moved up and down, left and right at the command of his own hand.

And then, after some more seconds, the sheer warmth and softness of Kate’s butt prompted George to act on his own accord. When he realized she wasn’t stopping him, he began to move his hand on his own, going so far as to squeeze one of her butt cheeks. She jumped a little, but didn’t stop him.

George became more excited. He moved his free hand from the table and placed it one of her ass cheeks. He then pulled her butt apart, exposing her tiny butt-hole and vagina.

Just as he made this motion, Kate bent down slowly and grabbed her pants and underwear, pulling them up slowly enough that George was able to grab her butt cheeks one last time before her undergarments were in position.

When she finished, she turned around slowly, looking first into George’s eyes, and second down at his crotch, after which time she pointed at it. George glanced down in this direction, to find a massive bulge in the fabric of his shorts. He was as hard as a rock.

“If you weren’t attempting to be sexual, why are you as hard as a rock?” she said, smiling. “If, on touching my ass, your intentions were purely asexual, then surely your cock wouldn’t have shot up like it did. To you, who touches asses with purely asexual intentions, even a few layers of fabric shouldn’t make a difference, should they?”

George did not reply. He was still processing what had just occurred.

“The point I’m trying to make, George, is that, in order to drive the change of a societal norm, as I’ll concede is possible, the driver has to truly believe in the movement he represents. In other words, if you intend to make groping a societal norm – due to your belief that groping isn’t an overt sexual act – you must yourself respond asexually to the groping. Indeed, the very fact you claim to want to change the norm indicates to me that your words don’t align well with your actions. I say this because, if you responded to groping asexually, what reason would you have to make it normal to grope in the first place?”

Once again, George did not reply. But this time he’d processed everything she said. He simply lacked a response for it. He’d taken the thing as far as it should go.

Gathering himself, he smiled. After a few seconds he spoke up. “You win, Kate. I concede defeat.”

“Ha!” exclaimed Kate. “You better.”

Kate was already late for her next engagement, so she did not linger. She had gathered her possessions soon after George conceded defeat. But before she left, Kate felt she should share some departing words.

“Next time you want to share some half-baked theory, make sure someone else hears it before I do. We wouldn’t want to shatter your world twice.” She then turned around to walk out of the unusually secluded room.

Just as she reached the door, George called to her.

“Kate.” he started. She turned around.

“You know I just wanted to feel your ass, right?”

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George Groves & Kate: The Groper

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