AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“Okay,” I muttered half-consciously. “College Rule Number One sounds very effective. What’s Rule Number Two?”
“College Rule Number Two is you try College Rule Number One on me.”
By now, a few of Mike’s buddies had gathered and become avid onlookers as they engaged in some locker-room trash talk. I didn’t care; I was lost in the moment, until...fuck...I had no idea how to perform Rule Number Two.
“Mike,” I confessed sheepishly, “I may need some help here. Not sure how to do it.”
“What? Kiss a neck?” He laughed a bit fiendishly. “Haven’t you ever made out with a boy?”
I shook my head.
“Not really—just that one time with you on the golf course...”
“That wasn’t making out; that was turning my balls blue,” he countered.
His pals laughed.
“A virgin,” I heard him mumbling under his breath. “Unbelievable. I’ll walk you back to your dorm.”
I was hurt, but I was hooked. Those kisses along the neckline were stoking my libido.
I vowed silently to reclaim his tongue on my skin again.
Mike left me at the dorm and took my phone number. He said he would call. For the next three nights, I fell asleep to the vision of Mike planting kisses up and down my body.
“College Rule Number Three,” he whispered in my dream. “Take off your panties...”
Waking up was another matter. This was my first collegiate experience with a boy who promised to call and didn’t. My naïve, romanticized mind couldn’t compute the pain. I had lived through a long history of rejections from high school, but college was supposed to be different.
“Why would he say he’d call and then forget? Why lead me on?” I lamented to my roommate Carrie.
“He’s a guy,” she replied. “They all do that shit. It’s their standard operating procedure.”
“But why?”
“Who the hell knows? They’re perpetually in heat and then suddenly they go ice cold. They’re afraid sex is being used as a weapon to drive them to a ‘permanent’ relationship. So, after they’ve emptied their tank, they go Splitsville. But don’t worry, you’ll find another asshole tomorrow. I personally think women are a better bet, if you’re interested.”
Not exactly. I still wanted Mike.
My mother’s advice was never far from my mind. The GPA was still the primary concern. Going back to nun status temporarily repressed more salacious obsessions. After that first treacherous night with Mike, I had stopped engaging in the typical undergrad debauchery.
Then one day after first semester finals, Carrie coaxed me out of my dorm room seclusion for a weekend of frat-row parties, which combined expansive flesh exposure with excessive alcohol intake.
I couldn’t resist. I could feel the neglected hormones reuniting and cogitating in aggressive compliance. And I knew exactly what to wear. I had borrowed one of Carrie’s short pink skirts and a tight white T-shirt with a spangled design. It felt likeI waswearing a Hooter’s costume. I was definitely the most fuckable girl in the room.
I was rarin’ to go, and by good fortune, our first target was Mike’s fraternity—still known as the most outrageous frat house, which seemed to have opened the doors for the frosh this particular weekend.
As soon as I walked in the door, boom, there was my man, already a bit sudsed-up. His reddened eyes met mine almost instantly. That didn’t stop him from demonstrating hispatented vampire move number one on the neck of a very willing young redhead standing next to him.
My body felt as if it had been thrown into a boiling pot.
Did I say Mike was nasty? He was in character all right, just like the self-centered asshole my roommate had warned me about. But then there was a momentary flash of hope. What was that look on his face? Guilt? Shame? Embarrassment? Nope. It was the same lust, the same assaultive desire that had brought him sniffing around the first time.
Oh Rory, look at him now, leering at you. Dump your glass of wine immediately. Go home and get outta here.
But I couldn’t stop the scenario. He was the male animal charging toward his target, who was presumably awash in estrus. No matter that Mike was stumbling drunk, his eyeballs as wide as an elephant’s buttocks, zigzagging in my general direction.
“You look gor-jus, Rory,” he mumbled, putting an unsteady arm on my shoulder.
