I learned that she finished high school and had plans to study Business Operations so that she could follow her dream and open her own clothing store, but that she never chased that dream because she haphazardly landed the job she currently had and absolutely loved it. She'd always been a passionate Essendon Bombers football club supporter, and she adored retail, so I guess working with both really was a dream come true for her.
During our city walk that cool winter's night, her button nose pink, her scarf of the same colour wrapped tightly around her neck, she'd explained how she'd become friends with Chris, having met him shortly after he'd been traded to the team when he'd stumbled into the store one Sunday morning, shirtless and without his wallet. Apparently, he'd been out the night before and had ended up at some random girl's house - which just so happened to be around the corner - and instead of waking up the poor girl who was sleeping in his shirt, he'd just skipped out on her and escaped to the sanctity of the club, or more accurately the club's store, so that he could get a new shirt and call one of his teammates to pick him up.
The story made me laugh - it seemed fitting - but what also made me laugh was the fact that Danielle and Chris became roommates as a result so that she could keep him out of trouble and he could keep her fed. She said he was akin to her own personal Gordon Ramsey, but instead of him getting into trouble out of anger, he found strife from being too damn horny instead.
Hearing that, rang alarm bells, because I sure as hell didn't want any horny fucker around Danielle, let alone living under the same roof as her. But when she assured me that he was one of the best friends she'd ever had, my unease lifted. After all, I knew her stance on fucking her friends.
Boy, did I ever.
Deep down in the confines of my heart, I hoped that stance would change where I was concerned. In fact, I already felt things beginning to shift for the two of us. We couldn't keep our hands off one another for starters, regardless of whether anyone was watching. Handholding. Hugs. A lingering kiss. Nothing like that first night when she stayed over, but the chemistry was certainly there, bubbling under the surface ready to explode.
A bit like my cock.
And speaking of exploding cocks, I was almost sure we were about to witness something extraordinary at the lion enclosure at Melbourne Zoo - our fourth, or was it fifth, date.
"Lots!" Danielle exclaimed, her fingers tightly clenched around my arm. "Are they? … Is that? … Oh shit, they are! They're going to mate." She let go of my arm and pressed herself against the enclosure glass like a perverted starfish. "Ohhh! This is exciting! I've never seen lions go at it before."
I couldn't help but scan the length of her from behind: tight jeans hugging her tiny legs and perky arse, white Converse runners, and fitted flannel shirt. Cute and incredibly sexy; perfectly Danielle.
"You're a little kinky," I said, raising my eyebrow. "I like it."
She quickly glanced over her shoulder and fired me a playful glare. "I'm just curious." She turned back to face the lions. "Ooooh … did he just bite her head? Wow! This is hot."
I laughed and stepped up beside her, albeit refraining from mashing my face against the glass.
"Has he even found her hole yet? I mean, it looks like he's just rubbing his lion dick all over her lioness back."
"He will." I smiled in anticipation, having seen a documentary on lions previously, which included mating rituals, so I knew what to expect.
"She's biting him back! Yes! Bite him back, girl. Bite. Him. Back."
The male lion growled and tensed, and the female growled in response then rolled onto her back, her jaws ferociously snapping in his direction. Danielle's eyes were wide. Anticipatory. Until she noticed both lions lie down and appear to take a nap.
"That's it?" she asked, turning to face me as if I knew the answer, of which I did.
"Yeah, pretty much. They might do that again, a couple of times."
"Nooooo! What an anticlimax."
"For you or the lioness?"
She attempted her signature arm whack, but I jumped out of reach just in time. "Maybe you need to watch antechinus mate. I'm guessing you wouldn't be disappointed with the male's efforts."
"Why's that?" she asked, as we made our way toward the giraffes and zebras. "And what the hell is an antineckee what?"
"It's a marsupial. And you'll be impressed because he'll go at it for up to fourteen hours then die of exhaustion."