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"Play along with him? Just accept this?"
"Maybe if you play along, he'll think you're giving in. And then he'll let his guard down. He’ll be gone in no time."
I considered that. "You know, I don't mind that idea, and it might actually work."
"See? I do have some good ideas.” She put her arm through mine conspiratorially. “This could actually be fun, you know. Torturing him incessantly. You know how to do this. It's like a cold war. You make him rue the day that he turned up on your doorstep."
Maybe I’d always underestimated Jamila. "You know, I've always loved you."
She laughed. "Oh, I know."
As we settled into our economics lecture hall, I started thinking of all the ways that I could make Westin St. James pay. Or at least make his life so miserable that he wanted to quit.
Jamila was right. This could actually be fun.
Nissa
Several days after my vow to boot my human ankle monitor, I hadn’t managed to make him quit yet. Not that I was trying too hard. I had a full class schedule, and I was using any available free time to chase leads on my sister. I’d gotten lucky seeing the article mentioning Sister Mary’s retirement. I’d been able to make some calls but so far no one would give me answers. My next step was to go there.
Today.
I was trying to motivate myself to get up when I heard the low grunting from the living room.
He was doing this on purpose. He had to be. Who else woke up at five a.m.? Only the truly wicked. I knew he wanted to work out, which was okay with me, but did he have to make those sounds? I couldn’t take it anymore.
Another low and throaty sound came from the living room and made my whole body pulse. It sounded... dirty.
There was no other way to describe it. It sounded like somebody was getting a proper dicking in the kind of way that would make an old lady blush and a college student lament her current lack of a boyfriend.
Who are you kidding? You've never had a boyfriend who made you groan like that, ever.
None of them had compared to Westin.
Not once. I'd had exactly three boyfriends. The first real one when I was seventeen. He thought my boobs were squishy toys, so no groaning there. Mostly irritation and pain, and I refused to ever go out with him again.
Then there had been Ned Williams at eighteen. He was better and a very good kisser. Solid marks. But he'd only ever seemed to want to kiss. The one time I did put his hands on my boobs, he recoiled as if they’d burned him. So no groaning there, either.
And then there had been Matthew Leroy a year ago. Much better about the kissing and also with the boobs. We hadn't made it very far though. The moment he stuck his hand down my trousers, he'd started rubbing at my left flap and pulled back and watched me, asking me if that was how you did it. I was so shocked and surprised all I did was blink at him for a moment, and then I said, “No, a little to the right, actually.”
He did not appreciate the directions, so no groaning for me.
It was fine. I was twenty years old, and to date, only one person had ever made me moan. And unfortunately for me, he was currently grunting through a workout in my living room.
The problem was, I needed to like someone as a person in order to sleep with them. And after what had happened with Westin, I couldn’t bring myself to trust anyone again.
Jamila kept telling me that I was odd. That nobody cared who they shagged.
Except, I did. Not that I had ideas of something flowery and romantic. I didn’t need rose petals on a bed or anything like that. I just needed to like the person.
Like is the wrong word. You mean love.
Well that was a problem because I certainly didn’t love Westin anymore.
All I needed to know was if they were decent, kind, good. Did they kiss like a dream? And did they have any idea how to make me moan without actual sex first? Basically, were they skilled in the art of foreplay?
Not too much to ask for.
Maybe it was me. I had no idea. My point was, at 5:05 this morning, Westin had me remembering exactly what it would be like to make him moan and that he could make me moan.
