...It was the beer! Honest!

Kurt watched as Rogue deliberately delayed Betsy with some nonsensestiostions, and as Gambit realized it and left the room. He smiled and made his own exit. Bobby had told him to wait five minutes, then follow him to Kitty's room.

"Kurt?" Kitty came around a corner and walked toward him. He frowned. Bobby hadn't said anything…

She gave a sensual smile and reached for his shoulders. Ah. He finally understood.

"No. Stop it, succubus." Damn her. Why did she always have to spoil his fun?

She pouted. "Would this have been a better form?" she asked, taking the tall blond form of Angel and reaching out to him again.

"Nein. I already told you, the form isn't the problem." He turned and walked away from her. She re-appeared in front of him, taking his naked shape.

"You're not drunk enough," she said, disappointed. "If you were drunk enough…"

He laughed. "Unnamed one, if I were that drunk, I would be no use to you."

She smiled, stretching languidly. "You would be surprised what I could do to make sure you were. This is what I do, how I feed." She slowly shifted into a nude female version of himself and winked. "Want a screwdriver?"

"No." He was, in fact, wishing he had not had so much alcohol tonight already. This was very hard…difficult. Very difficult.

She began stalking toward him, and he teleported into his room. He had believed she had finally given up on him. He hadn't seen her for three weeks. Why did this have to happen?

A brisk knock disturbed his thoughts. "Was ist?" he called. A muffled voice said, "Hey, man, what are you doing?" It was Bobby Drake. Kurt leaped up, then stood for a moment and nodded. He opened the door and stepped back a few paces. Bobby was standing there, a slight smile on his face, wearing some old jeans and a sweater he hadn't worn to the party.

Bobby tried to walk into the room, and the ward at the door activated, exploding into a beam of thousand watt light and hitting "him" in the face. The succubus was blown back across the hall and slammed into the wall with a crash. She shook her head and rose, dark anger on her face. "You don't know how to ward. Who did this, and why did you let them?"

He smiled. "You forgot my mother and sister, didn't you, Margali and Jimaine? You're not crossing their wards to get at me unless you truly have some feelings for me…other than your usual lust, of course."

She snarled. "You can't stay in there forever." She vanished, and Kurt fell onto his bed. He, too, had been surprised by the violence of the ward, but impressed. He sighed and got up to lock the door. His dry spell was not going to end yet, apparently. Too bad.
****************
"Remy?" His eyes remained on the retreating form of Rogue, heading toward Scott's room again. "Remy?" He turned around.

"Yeah, Psylocke?" He was clearly irritated. She pressed on anyway.

"Do you, perhaps, want some company?" Her eyes shone up at him, and he smiled and looked down the hall, where Rogue had disappeared.

"Cher, I ain't given up yet. If I do, you the first one I call, okay? But right now, I gotta hold off."

He walked away, and Betsy said, "Bloody hell."

She was disappointed. She hadn't gotten to do anything interesting at the party. Kurt and Bobby had gone after Kitty, Hank was probably going straight back to the lab to get with Jean, Wolverine was probably off somewhere sulking over Jean too, Remy wasn't interested in anyone but Rogue, and Sean and Professor X were just too old. The very idea made her a little sick. That only left Angel, who was probably flying off somewhere and impossible to reach, or Jamie, who was so drunk he probably wouldn't be good for anything. Still, you never know. She went to her room, leaving the door slightly open, and took off her clothes. She clicked on the lamp beside her bed. At least this was a little naughty.

She laid back on her bed and felt like crying, so she started talking to try to cheer herself up. "So Betsy, what's your favorite sexual fantasy, love? Well, Betsy, it has to have someone other than me in it. Really, Betsy? So your favorite one isn't being ignored in favor of a tart who goes sodding off with a boring old stick of a man or being passed over for a twit who probably can't handle one man, much less two men, at once? No, Betsy, it isn't."

"So what is your sexual fantasy, Betsy love?" a deep voice asked. She looked up and saw Jamie in the door, eyes twinkling. He smiled. "Oh, do go on. I wasn't as think as you all drunk I was, and I'm even less think, seeing you lying there."

Finally! She relaxed and started really enjoying herself. "Well, Jamie love, I'd love at least one fella who saw me a bit inebriated take advantage of me right here."

"At least one, Betsy love? Does that mean you're willing to play with more than one?"

"Yes, Jamie love, I'd be glad to. I'm certainly drunk enough." She laughed, and Jamie put his head out of the door.

"Come on in, Warren, the water's fine!"

She blinked. "Now, wait just a minute, gentlemen…" she stammered as Angel came in and closed the door. "You can't be…I thought you meant…"

"Just me? Well, Warren and I talked about that, and we both decided what we wanted to do was have all three of us play for a bit. Right, Warren love?"

Angel nodded and grinned lasciviously at Betsy. "Right, Jamie." They approached the bed, and Betsy tensed, then relaxed. After all, this was very nasty…and if she didn’t want nasty, she should have been more careful what she wished for, she thought, as she embraced the two men.