Free Your Princess is in Another Castle by Richard Fore

because you’ve taken several and presumably passed them.  But you never share with anyone outside of class.
    “Now, Kilgore Trout is described as a bad writer, albeit one with some good ideas.  I wouldn’t know if you’re a good writer or not.  But the thing you have in common is that you both could never be successful as failure is what defines you.  You wouldn’t know what to do with success.  You couldn’t function as a success.  Neither could Trout.  The man lived in his basement apartment as a failed writer overlording over a bunch of little paperboys, bitter and cantankerous.  He wouldn’t have been able to handle a real publication contract with any promotion.  When he meets Billy Pilgrim, one of the only people who’s ever heard of him, and he goes to Billy’s anniversary party he’s asked by a woman what is the most famous story he’s ever written, and on the spot he just makes something up that doesn’t exist.  I can see you doing that.  I can see you being a bitter old man who never had the faintest taste of success but deep down you never really wanted it or could have handled it anyway.
    “And you just proved this theory with your refusal to ask out Sabrina.  You’ve been given all the evidence you could realistically ever hope for to prove she’s interested in you, and you still won’t ask her out.  Why?  Because you just couldn’t handle having a cute little dorky girlfriend who likes you, because your whole wide world of pessimism and negativity would collapse on itself leaving you unable to know how to live.  You’re a young Kilgore Trout, that’s what you are.  You should have a t-shirt that reads keep the hell out of my body bag .”  
    I hesitantly stare into my glass like a child looking down into a pool from a diving board.  Hands begin to run up and down my chest as Montana Wild places her head on my shoulder.  “I’m sorry for the interruption,” she says, “because you were having the quite the conversation there.  But you see you’ve made a commitment to spend a little time with me.”  She runs her fingers through my hair and sits on my lap.
    Seth appears amused. “By all means, take him away.  I’ve said what I wanted to say already.  I’m morbidly curious though, just how big are those?”
    Montana looks down at her breasts.  “That’s a very good question.  Undo me please, would you sweety?” she asks me.  I undo her top’s knot.  Montana fondles her breasts as Seth looks at her repellently.  “I had them done big enough so that they transcend the traditional A-B-C-D measurement scale,” she says.  “But I think I’m somewhere around an F or G-cup.”
    “He thinks they’re too big,” I say, turning on Seth as if it needed to be verbalized.
    Montana takes my hands and covers her breasts with them.  Touching them is a joy as I have no connection to her, the opposite of getting to grab Jessica’s ass, where the longing for more dampened the experience.    
    “ They occupy something of a specialized niche,” admits Montana.  “They might be a bit much for some guys.  But I’m like a cult leader.  Every follower I do have is going to be mine completely.”  She tilts her head to look at me.  “You’d pretty much do anything I asked, wouldn’t you?”
    “Yes,” I say.
    “You look like you’d happily down a glass of cyanide flavored Kool-Aid if she asked you to,” says Seth. 
    “Flavor-Aid ,” says Montana.  “The Kool-Aid Man would never hurt anybody.” She rises and pulls me out of my chair.  “Come on, let’s go play.” 
    Taking me by one hand and holding her discarded top in the other Montana leads me into a dark and narrow hallway near the entrance of the club.  Little rooms line either side, and as we search for a vacancy I spot Chris in one of the rooms with Starry.  I wonder how much he’s spent on her given how long he’s been in there. 
    “Do you want a couch or a bed dance?” asks