Disclaimer: I do not own Dragonball Z

Author's note: This story contains material intended for mature audiences. For those easily offended, this will offend your sensibilities.

Chapter 1: Setting the Standard

The night was colder than it should have been; it was unseasonable weather for the end of April. That Saturday night, the line to get into the club was just as long as ever, but tonight the eager entrants stood closer together than usual, making the line contract into more of a cluster.

Of course, he didn't wait in lines. He skipped the group and was let in with no questions asked, a girl on each arm, a smirk on his face. The inside of the club was dark but the sporadically flashing lights could have induced seizures. The music was harsh to his ears, but he tuned it out quickly, leading the two women up the sweeping staircase to the VIP section. Up there, the alcohol was flowing, the city's elite were mingling and it was a playground of beautiful women for Trunks V. Briefs. He sipped a glass of expensive champagne and looked about for his night's prey. His dates were fawning over a movie star who didn't mind the attention.

He spotted her. A red-head, looking pouty and alone in the far back corner; he rose and casually moved over to where she sat. He took the seat beside her and offered her a glass of champagne. She took it with apprehension, looking at him warily. "So, sweetheart, why are you sitting here all alone looking so lonely? There are so many people around to talk to," he said, reaching his arm around beside her, resting it on the back of her seat and not her shoulder. She was too distrusting of the wolfish man beside her to fall for that kind of trick.

"Well, if you must know, I came here with him," she said, pointing to a man Trunks recognized as the city's chief councilman. "But once we walked in the door, I became invisible." She was new to the scene. She didn't understand the rules of the VIP suite.

"What's your name?" he asked.

"London," she answered. "I'm his administrative assistant." Trunks nodded. Secretary.

"Well, London, my name is Trunks," he said, extending his hand.

"I know," she answered.

"Since that is settled, how about you get up from here and have a good time since you're already here and all dressed up? Want to go downstairs and I'll buy you a drink? Do some dancing?" He stood, offering her his hand. She timidly took it, setting her empty champagne flute to the side.

"All right then, Trunks."

The next morning, he woke to a sprawl of shiny red hair across the pillow. The woman was naked, asleep, in his bed. She was beautiful for sure. A little inexperienced in bed, but, altogether, it was a good night. Trunks got ready for work quickly and silently, closing the door behind him as he left. He told his butler to fix the young lady, whose name he did not quite remember, some breakfast before showing her out. And to call the chief councilman and tell him that his assistant would be running late this morning, excuse her tardiness.

With that, Trunks turned and walked out to the elevator and off to work.

Pan was also sneaking out quietly from the house, (albeit a stranger's house) leaving the previous night's conquest naked in his bed. She slipped on her blue jeans, shoved her underwear in her purse, looked down at her ruined shirt and took one of his T-shirts out of his dresser. Then she stepped out the front door to greet the early morning grayness.

She went home and showered before slipping on some training clothes to go workout before she had to be at work at 9. When she got to the gravity room, Vegeta was inside waiting for her.

"You are late," he said.

"I was waylaid," Pan answered coolly, stretching out.

"Mostly just laid," the Prince retorted tartly. "You stink."

"You know, if I had a coin for every time you have said that, I'd own the bank." He crossed his arm and gave a condescending look.

"Hurry up, brat, I am losing my patience."

"I didn't realize you had any left to lose," she said, readying herself for the fight.

"I don't." And he struck.

Two hours later, Pan was rushing into work down in the experimental section of Capsule Corps labs. Nine o'clock on the dot.

"Good morning," she said kindly to her co-worker, Kathy, who was an older woman looking retirement in the face.

"Good morning Pan," she replied warmly. "I am certainly glad that it is Friday."

"So am I! This has been such as busy week."

The nighttime found her out with a few friends at a local bar, drinking before going off downtown to see a band play. Actually, Pan didn't have a ticket to the sold out show, and didn't really desire to go see some bubblegum pop act that she was too old to listen to, from nosebleed seats. Bra stopped by for a little while, but then left to go meet Goten for dinner.

Once everyone was gone, Pan was left sitting at the bar, sipping highballs, and waiting. She knew her mark when he came in. Dark haired, dark eyed, strong for a human. He slipped off his light jacket and hung it on the coat rack beside the door. Shaking off the cool spring air, he stepped up to the bar and ordered a stout, looking around for his friends as he waited on the bartender. He spotted his comrades in a table toward the back, and started back with his beer in hand. Pan caught his eye momentarily, but acting coy, turned back to her drink. In the background, his friends were greeting him with laughs and jokes.

Pan drank two more drinks and ignored two men before getting up and sauntering over to the pool tables in the very back of the restaurant. As she passed the dark-haired man, she brushed against him just enough to make him know it wasn't an accident. She continued to the pool tables, knowing his eyes were on her; her tight blue jeans, high-heeled boots, and long black hair.

She was sizing up cue sticks when he walked over. Her mostly-empty second drink sat on a coaster on the edge of the table. He sat his beer beside it. "Wanna play a game?" he asked. She looked at him, sizing him up, before downing the rest of her drink.

"Sure. If you buy me another drink."

"No problem."

By the time he returned, she had finished setting up the table. "I didn't catch your name…" he said, handing her the drink.

"Pan."

"I'm Chase." He sipped his beer and pulled a cue stick from the wall, looking down the stick for any flaws. It passed his test. "So, Pan, what are the stakes going to be?" he asked, casually leaning on the cue.

"Well," she said, leaning over the table and staring down the eight ball before sending it speeding toward the triangle of colorful spheres. "I win, you take me home. You win, I take you home." He nodded.

"Sound good. I call a re-rack, though."

"Yeah?"

"Nobody agreed that you were going to be the one to break."

Trunks was being dragged across the atrium of the new art museum by a very lovely art student named Marie. There was a gala being held for the grand opening, and he had just happened to meet the stunning Marie. As she pulled him through the crowd, he was making his plan of escape (which included taking her with him). She was desperately searching for her favorite professor, a man who had dedicated his time to the design of the new museum. Of course, always a philanthropist, Trunks (or, really his mother), had donated a large sum to the museum foundation. Basically, Capsule Corp paid for the building.

"Dr. Robinson!" Marie said, finally locating the older man.

"Marie, dear!" he said, face lighting up in the greeting.

"I found Mr. Briefs and was just thanking him for what his company has done for the museum. I thought you might like to meet him." The gray-haired man turned to Trunks and smiled.

"You can call me Trunks, Dr. Robinson," the President said, extending his hand. As soon as Dr. Robinson took it, he launched into a series of thank-yous and praises and then into the finer points of the museum and different nuances and yaddah-yaddah. Marie was enrapt with what the man was saying, and Trunks let him babble on for Marie's sake. Just when he thought he couldn't take anymore, the good doctor was called away by someone else.

"Now that that is through, Miss Marie, what would you like to do next?" he asked.

"My place is only a couple of blocks over," she said. Trunks typically didn't spend the night at women's places; it was an inconvenience when leaving. But, since it was close and Marie was in love with Dr. Robinson, he figured it was a safe bet she wouldn't mind him leaving. He offered his arm and she led him to her apartment.

Pan and Chase were back at his place, not wasting time. It was the lucky difference between Pan and Trunks: she didn't have to woo her tryst into bed. But Trunks was the last thing on her mind at the moment. Always having a knack for the darker side of things, Chase was tied to his four post bed, naked while Pan lingered over him, teasing him, tasting him and torturing him. She had on her black lace bra and matching thong, her hair wild and everywhere as she took her time trailing down his body with kisses and bites. And then she did something she enjoyed doing more than anything to a man (besides fucking him later). She straddled his middle, leaned forward enough that her breasts were just touching his chest and began a very long and torturous monologue in his ear.

"So Chase…are you so sure I will let you have me now? I could leave you strapped here to your bed for your roommates to find…but could I be so cruel? I saw you walk in tonight and knew immediately I wanted to take you home and fuck you like a bitch. You'll be eating my pussy until I let you quit. And I will fuck you until your dick was as raw as my cunt. And I won't untie you. I'll make you lay there and I won't let you come. Your cock will be so hard and you won't even have your hand to help you, bitch…" and her hand slipped down his body coming to rest at his inner thigh. Her hand crept up, brushing his sac, then down toward a place he was not expecting; all the time, she murmured in his ear. And then her fingers forced their way inside of him. He tensed. "Oh no, Chase. You're going to take this." And she was massaging inside him, working her fingers, and all of sudden, he knew he was going to come. But she stopped. "Don't get ahead of yourself."

"Got any roommates?" Trunks asked, following Marie up the stairs to her apartment.

"Yeah, my brother, who is out of town, and his best friend, who is out getting shitfaced and probably failing at seducing a freshman." And they were outside her door and she turned to look at him, unlocking the door. And without his expecting it, she jerked him into a kiss, hopping up and wrapping her legs and arms around him. "So we are all alone," she whispered against his cheek. Her body slipped a little and brushed the new tent in his slacks. He nearly groaned as he pushed past the opened door and into the dark apartment. He slid off his jacket as she suckled down his neck. Good thing he was immune to hickies…because Marie seemed prone to giving them. Hopefully she's good at sucking elsewhere, he thought. He slid his hand beneath her skirt, up her thigh and under the edge of her panties. She groaned.

"Where's your room?" he asked into her breasts. "At the end of the hall, last door," she managed, finding pleasure at grinding her core against his traveling fingers. He pressed her back against the wall, fumbling with his belt beneath the tightly wrapped legs. "Don't stop," she breathed. And then Trunks froze.

"Fucking goddamn you fucking cunt whore!" a man growled.

"Fuck," Marie breathed. "I guess he did find a fucking freshman."

"Or something," Trunks said, slipping two fingers into Marie's pussy, making her forget the roommate. But Trunks heard the roommate's partner. A low sultry voice, seductive and dangerous. And amused. It sent shivers down his spine and was vaguely familiar.

"Now Chase, if you want me to let you fuck me, you have play the game. I promise you the best sex you can have is when you have to prove you are a man to a woman who has taken all your dignity." Trunks heard a groan from the man. "I want you to beg me. Beg me to let you have one hand." He cursed her quietly then groaned again. And again. It was a pained groan. And with his Saiyan ears, Trunks couldn't block it out, even though Marie had slid down his body and was sucking his dick. He let out a quiet groan; she had quite a talent. "Beg me." Marie fixed him back up and looked him in the eye. "I want to show you something in my room," she said, wide-eyed.

"Please, please, untie me, for Kami's sake," the roommate groaned.

"Are you sure?" the voice said.

"I beg you."

"All right then." And then Trunks's eyes widened. PAN. That was PAN SON'S voice.

"What the fuck?" was all that came out of Trunks's mouth. Marie looked confused but Trunks was already opening the door and reaching for a light switch. And the scene he found was, by all means, not pleasing. There she was, black lace underthings, slim body and triumphant face, flicking toward the source of the interruption. Chase had been let go and was frantically rubbing his engorged penis and coming, in large, white looping spurts. Projectile coming, all on himself and his bed and the floor, his eyes closed tightly, face wrenched in pain and pleasure and he let out the deepest shuddering groan known to man.

Marie's look was priceless shock. But Trunks's look was unmistakable anger. Pan looked at him, slightly confused and then very aware. "Hi, Trunks," she said kindly, quirking a smile more resonant of a smirk than a grin.

"What. The. Fuck. Are. You. Thinking?" he managed.

"I'm wondering why you are interrupting my evening."

"You know her?" Marie asked, finding her voice and obviously grossed out.

"I used to babysit her. My best friend's niece. And, well, Pan, your evening is over, now." Chase had returned to the same planet as everyone else and was now looking very embarrassed that three people were able to watch what had just transpired with him.

"No the hell is it not," she said, putting her hand on her hip.

"I'm not going to let you stay here. It's not right."

"Pot calling the kettle black, huh, Trunks?"

"Please let it be over," Chase said, untying himself with his free hand. "You're going to fucking kill me."

"Pussy," she spat.

"Sorry, Marie." Then, before any objections were made, Trunks grabbed her, threw her over his shoulder and left.

"Okay," Chase said after the two departed. "Can we pretend this didn't happen?"

"It is burned into my retinas but I will not mention it again. Unless I am drunk at my wedding and you make a shitty toast."

"Deal." Little did Chase know, four years later, Marie would be telling all of the guests the unseemly story at her wedding.