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Chelsea stared at the email with disappointment. For the last two days, she had been consumed with thoughts of her stranger from the bar. As originally requested, she had written up an account of their encounter—and composing every paragraph had sent blistering waves of sexual obsession through her body. Being forced to relive every stroke, every thrust, made her twist in her chair. She had to see him again, couldn’t wait any longer. Just one day away from him left her drenched in yearning, too distraught to concentrate on her schoolwork.
Now she would apparently have to wait a few more days before seeing him. Then again, what if she never saw him at all? What if her next test featured a different man? She couldn’t bear that. She wanted this man. They belonged together. Maybe they had never exchanged a word, but any man who caressed her pussy like that had to be the one for her.
The whole thing was like something out of a fantasy—or a scene penned by Jonathan Danvers. She knew it was the silly fantasy of a love-struck fan, yet she couldn’t deny that it seemed more and more like she was destined to wind up in Jonathan’s arms. First she discovered his novels as an innocent virgin; then she attended his alma mater, only to stumble upon a secret society of erotica authors. Now she was actually being initiated into that same society in rites that involved a tall, sexy, brown-haired stranger—who was also the most talented lover she’d ever known.
Jonathan, Jonathan, Jonathan. It had to be him, didn’t it? The lush brown hair, the broad shoulders, the height, and most of all, that almost supernatural erotic chemistry between them…
Her dorm room door swung open. “Hey there,” Nikki said, coming in with a shy girl from their floor. Her name was Brianna and she usually looked downcast, but today a radiant smile lit her face. “Have you seen Jeff? He said he’d help us with our Shakespeare papers but I don’t think he even came home last night.”
“No idea,” Chelsea replied, discreetly shutting her laptop. “What are you so happy about Brianna? You win the lottery or something?”
Nikki rolled her eyes. “Some guy in her Russian history class asked her out.”
“Good for you,” Chelsea said, not understanding Nikki’s sarcasm.
A shy smile broke across Brianna’s face. “I’m just so excited,” she said. “I haven’t had a boyfriend since three semesters ago.”
“He’s not your boyfriend yet, Brianna. It’s just a date,” Nikki said pointedly.
Chelsea shot her a warning look. “It could develop into something. You have to think positive, right, Bri?”
“Right.” Brianna’s eyes were dreamy. “You know how it is—every year on Valentine’s Day all the other girls get called down to the front desk to pick up their roses while you get nothing… Then they go to dinner at Les Bijoux while you eat in the dining hall. I know it’s stupid but it’d be nice to actually have a boyfriend for once on Valentine’s, you know?”
Chelsea and Nikki exchanged a knowing glance. This was exactly the kind of attitude they scorned—succumbing to the pressure to celebrate what they viewed as merely a commercial, conformist holiday. Yet Chelsea couldn’t judge Brianna too harshly. The girl was obviously lonely. “I hope this guy works out for you,” Chelsea told her.
The very mention of Valentine’s Day reminded her of Jonathan, or rather, her Muse. They would both be at the Society’s Ball and that would make this a lusciously erotic Valentine’s indeed. If the party she had glimpsed last weekend was anything to go by, surely the Society’s holiday ball would be a spectacle of eroticism and art. Let the other girls in the dorm have their drugstore candy and mediocre off-campus restaurants. She would be living out her hottest fantasies.
She smiled to herself.
“Well, look who’s thinking of her own loverboy,” Nikki said, catching the dreamy expression on her face. “Would you
please just tell me who you hooked up with last weekend?” To Brianna, she said, “Chelsea came strolling in last Saturday night looking disheveled as all get out, but she won’t admit she actually got laid.”
Chelsea couldn’t suppress a mysterious smile. “It’s not important.”
“It’s not important,” Nikki mimicked in a nasty voice. “God, Chelsea, I tell you everything. You’re no fun.”
Nikki’s acerbity seemed to be making Brianna nervous. “Um, I’m going to go since Jeff isn’t around,” she said. “I’ll see you guys at dinner.”
Nikki slammed the door after her.
“How pathetic,” she grumbled. “Getting all sprung on some guy just because he asked her out.”
“Well, three semesters is a long time to go without action,” Chelsea said. “She’s excited—we should be happy for her.”
Nikki stared at her. “Oh my God, please don’t tell me you’re turning into one of them. If I have to room with a Stepford Girl who starts bragging about the flowers and jewelry she got on a trumped-up holiday—”
“Nikki, calm down! I am not a Stepford Girl. God.”
“Well, I certainly hope not.” Nikki looked sulky. “It is a little weird that, after acting like a nun for months, you suddenly go out and get some nookie a few weeks before Valentine’s Day. If you found this guy just so you won’t be alone on V Day…”
“I don’t have a problem being alone on any day,” Chelsea said tartly. She wanted to say that if anyone seemed to have a hang-up about being alone on Valentine’s, it was Nikki, but she held her tongue. She sensed that her roommate was starting to regret her numerous exploits on fraternity row. After all, if there was anyone who’d be eating alone in the dining hall on Valentine’s, it was frat rat Nikki. Plenty of guys had taken her to bed in the time Chelsea had known her, but so far, none had taken her on an actual date.
Suddenly Chelsea felt bad for her roommate. “Let’s go look for Jeff,” she told her, putting on her coat. “Maybe we can grab some ice cream at Union while we’re at it.”
“Okay.” Nikki still looked dejected. Chelsea gave her a hug and pulled her out the door.
* * *
