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I swallowed, and moved so close only a sheet of paper could’ve fit between us. No part of my naked body touched his, save the very tip of my wet, erect nipple.
Simon knew I was there, and remained unmoving. I wondered if he, like me, was afraid to break the moment.
In a sultry tone, I whispered, “Here’s your towel,” and reached my arm around his torso to place it in his hand. I wrapped around him like Cleopatra’s snake, encircling him with my limbs. His hand was low, close to his hip, and in placing the towel in it, I came a breath away from what I could tell was a straining cock. I’d never felt power like this — power in showing my sexuality, in commanding the situation, in making a beautiful grown man weak in the damn knees.
“Thank you, Catya,” he murmured. I drank in his voice, and then, “I’ll see you at practice tomorrow.”
I snapped out of it like my brain itself had experienced whiplash. Practice. Oh God, right. For a minute there, it hadn’t seemed like a real thing, as though we were just two adults on the verge of devouring one another. Like there were no complications to this, you know? But of course there were. How dumb of me.
“Right, right,” I said. “Practice.”
I took a few steps away, putting distance between us, but remaining close enough that I could see the muscles under his shoulder blades tighten. What did that little twitch mean? I was trying to read the knots in his back as though they were Morse code.
“I’ll see you then,” he reiterated, and with no further fanfare, hurried away from the showers. Moments later, I heard the sound of the heavy locker room door swinging shut.
Chapter 10
Catya
After the encounter with Simon, I got dressed quickly, grabbed my stuff and left the fateful locker room. I was well and truly done with it for the day, maybe for the foreseeable future. On one hand, I’d never felt as alive and turned on as I did under that shower, and then seeing Simon see me doing the things I was under that shower… but on the other, fantasizing about impossible trysts is almost like engaging in self-harm.
The sorority house was looming in front of me before I realized I’d walked all the way there. Had time elapsed that quickly? Seconds blurred, and the usual features of the campus melted away before me. I was walking through the gelatinous state of my own baffled mind.
I passed under the predictable Grecian columns, turned the heavy brass knob which rested just beneath a custom sign that read ‘DOU,’ and entered. Even though I felt ineffably different, the house hadn’t changed in my absence. That seemed wrong. Shouldn’t the environment reflect my shifts like a mood ring?
The whole bottom floor was open plan. To the left, a formal dining room. To the right, a study room. Straight ahead, a generalized ‘hangout’ space. My stomach in knots, and my head in no mood to retain information, I walked straight.
The hangout space, otherwise known as the DOU Zoo, had everything a college student could want — a beer pong table also known as a regular ping pong table, bean bags, and enough snack food to feed Napoleon’s troops. It was a little safe haven of indulgence.
Usually.
This time, I saw Sharon-Ann, Max and Grace. Like I mentioned before, a couple of the soccer girls were also in DOU, and while this usually meant lots of fun and extra bonding time, I was not in the mood. I felt like if they looked at me for long enough, they would totally see through my calm front, realizing something big had happened. In short time, they’d figure out my dirty secret, and I’d be screwed metaphorically, much to my own consternation.
I was planning to pull the coward’s move — pretend like I hadn’t seen them and go upstairs to my own double — but they had athlete’s instincts.
“Hey, Catya!” Sharon-Ann chirped.
“Oh hey,” I said, feigning surprise. “Well, been a long day, I’m just gonna go—”
Max interrupted, “Dude, how good was that prank?”
I made a thumbs-up sign, and a smile that didn’t quite read as enthusiastic. “Funny,” I affirmed. No one bought it.
Grace chuckled languidly, and replied, “I’d tap that.”
“Simon?” I asked, my throat dry.
“Duh,” she said with an eye roll. “I mean, if it weren’t against league rules and all.”
Uh, what?
Out loud, I demanded, “What’s that supposed to mean?”
She held up her hands in the universal symbol for ‘take a chill pill,’ and replied, “Come on, Catya. You’re team captain. You must’ve heard these rules before.”
Grace leaned in conspiratorially, and added, “If Melanie and Alan were really having an affair — and we all know they were — then that’s probably why they had to leave. To avoid Title IX stuff.”
