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Tuesday was the first day of classes. I had only three, but heeding Gloria’s warning, I scribbled like mad. After each class I reread my notes and filled in information I’d missed the first time through. I hoped that the habits I’d learned that won me top honors in high school would work for me here, too.
I sat next to Gloria in English Lit, but there wasn’t time to say more than hello. Even so, I was always conscious of her presence. As the room grew warm, I basked in the aroma of her body, now unmasked by artificial perfumes. Her scent was different than RoseAnn’s, but nonetheless arousing. I wanted to have coffee with her afterward, but she had to rush off to another class.
Though it was only two-thirty, I was done for the day, and walked back to the apartment. Sitting at my brand-new desk, I set up folders in the file cabinet, one for each class, and wrote down the upcoming assignments in the desk calendar. With the preliminaries done, I began a reading assignment for English.
At four-thirty, I began preparing a chicken casserole, working from one of RoseAnn’s cookbooks. I had it in the oven and the timer set when the phone rang.
“I’m leaving work now,” she said. That was the entire message; the phone clicked. I quickly ran around the apartment, straightening the bedcovers, washing the dishes I’d used to prepare the casserole, and setting the table. I had her glass of wine poured and my clothes stripped off when the garage door mechanism rumbled under the floor.
She enjoyed the casserole, and she also enjoyed straddling my face afterward, before sending me to do the dishes. For my own part, I preferred the aftertaste of RoseAnn to that of the casserole, and I told her so. It drew a wide smile.
I put on a pair of briefs, with her permission, to avoid distraction while finishing my assignments. It was nine o’clock when I put the last of the work away and joined her in front of the TV. She motioned for me to remove my briefs and sit on the floor with my back against the sofa, the more conveniently to rub her feet.
After a time, my attention drifted from my task.
“Barry, pay attention!”
“I’m sorry, I got to watching the TV.”
“Then turn away. Kneel facing me and pay attention to my feet.”
Television programs sound different when you can only hear the sound. Laugh tracks sound as phony as they are, and much of the dialog is wooden and artificial, as if written by robots. But as minutes ticked past, I forgot the TV and focused totally on the exquisite beauty before me. My cock remained erect throughout, so she couldn’t resist teasing it with her toes.
At ten o’clock, she led me to the bedroom and arranged herself on the easy chair. She rested her heels in the small of my back and ordered me to explore her pussy with just the tip of my tongue until she was ready to climax. I wandered over the crease at the top of her thigh, and the hairy outer lips, and the delicate inner lips, and the bottomless vortex of her vagina for at least a half-hour before she pulled me up to her clitoris and had me take her over the top with the flat of my tongue.
While she drifted off to sleep, she had me kneel at the foot of the bed, where I resumed rubbing her feet, using a few drops of baby oil as a lubricant. Even after she was clearly asleep, I continued to rub her for another fifteen minutes. It felt good to be fully erect and serving her, even as she slept. My cock was still at the alert and my balls ached, but there wasn’t the overwhelming need to enter her, or even to come, as there’d been last week.
As I slipped into bed, I realized that I’d lived with RoseAnn exactly one week. Until now, I’d assumed she’d taken possession of my spirit and transformed Escort Şişli me into a different person, with different needs–her besotted lover, her slave, her servant.
On reflection, I saw that she hadn’t changed me at all. She’d found needs in me that had been there all along, and only needed the opportunity to reveal themselves.
* * *
The week drifted past, falling into a routine, for that is how we spend the majority of our lives. I prepared breakfast for RoseAnn each morning, attended my lectures, spent a morning and an afternoon in labs, worked on assignments, and came home to tidy the apartment and fix dinner for us. She taught me to prepare her clothes for morning, brushing off lint and steaming out creases. At her whim throughout the evening, I’d bring her to orgasm, at least once, more often twice. Afterward, she stretched and purred with contentment, and teased me with her tongue and fingertips until I begged for relief. Finally, satisfied with my agony and frustration, she smiled and giggled and turned over to sleep.
I met Gloria for coffee or lunch at least once each day. On Friday, I found her sitting with a broad-shouldered man with hairy arms and an oily complexion. He seemed a little older than me. I guessed he might be a junior or senior.
“Mind if I join you?” I said.
“We’re talking business,” said the man.
Gloria said, “It’s all right, Mike. Barry’s a member.” She looked up at me, and said, “It’s Biochemistry Club business. You can listen in if you want. Learn how we do things. That’s okay, isn’t it?”
Mike grunted and shook hands, nearly crushing my fingers. “Mike Worthington,” he said. “Pleasetameecha.” I told him my name.
The two of them were poring over the membership list, which had been neatly typed up, and a penciled spreadsheet marked ‘1983-84 Budget’. They talked of things I knew nothing about while I ate quietly.
Feeling out of place here, I turned to thoughts of RoseAnn. On simply whispering her name to myself, her face floated in front of me, made beautiful by that smile that I loved so much. Today was Friday! My cock stirred. A full week had passed since RoseAnn had condemned me to go for seven days without an orgasm. Tonight would be the night!
Somehow the prospect didn’t excite me as I thought it would. I’d come to love the constant sexual tension, the stirring of my cock at the merest thought of her, the violence of her orgasms, the expectation that anytime, day or night, she might call on me to service her. Once I came, all that would go away, at least for a day or so. The little chores and duties that thrilled me now would lose their sexual drive, and I’d resent them instead. The triumphant smile that turned my insides to jelly would seem like only a contemptuous smirk. I didn’t want that.
Even so, once I began thinking of my situation, I was aware of the low-level ache in my balls. I must have a gallon of semen stored in there by now. I imagined it gushing from RoseAnn’s vagina as I withdrew from her–
“Barry! Did you hear me?” Gloria tapped my shoulder.
“My mind drifted for a minute.”
“I said, the club needs a secretary for this year. Do you want the job?”
I shook my head to stop the parade of thoughts of RoseAnn. “What would I have to do?”
“Just keeping minutes of the business parts of the meetings, if there are any. And writing up our newsletter–it’s only a page or two once a month. And letters to invite speakers and to thank them afterwards.”
Mike chimed in. “Frankly, Barry, it’s the entry job for the Executive Committee. It’s more work than other Committee jobs, but normally you’d move on to Treasurer, VP, and eventually President. Sultangazi escort So it’s a good idea to get in on the ground floor while you’re a freshman. Gloria was secretary last year, and now she’s Treasurer.”
“I can help you get started,” said Gloria. Light glinted in the green eyes. “In any case, I’d have to transfer all the archives over to you.”
This was one way I’d get to see her more often. Why not? It wasn’t exactly a commitment to wild sex. I said, carelessly, “Okay, I’ll do it.”
“We have to have an election and all, but there are never any nominations from the floor, so being on the slate is as good as being elected,” said Mike.
I excused myself and went off to my afternoon physics lab, simultaneously worried and excited over my growing attraction to Gloria, and the inevitable hurt to RoseAnn if she discovered what was developing.
* * *
I walked back to the apartment at six o’clock with a quiver in my belly. Should I remind RoseAnn that the seven days were up, and hadn’t I earned a climax? Or should I wait for her to broach the subject? I supposed she’d expect me to make dinner first, in any case. I had at least a partial erection as I climbed the steps to the apartment door.
But the heavy oak door was ajar, and unfamiliar female voices and laughter came from inside. I eased the door open and counted five women in the room. RoseAnn was seated at one end of the sofa, with her glass of merlot. I saw immediately that she was wearing pantyhose for the first time since I’d moved here. The sight of those muscular legs sleekly clad in nylon made my belly quiver.
Two other women sat, and two stood. All five seemed to be talking at once. The air smelled of Chinese food.
I caught RoseAnn’s eye, and asked, “What’s going on?”
“Oooh, this must be the entertainment!” said one of the standing women, a young blonde. With three-inch heels, she barely came to my shoulder. She carried a full glass of wine and seemed a little unsteady on her feet. “Where’s your policeman costume?”
“Yah! Take it off! Take it off!” shouted a brunette who shared the sofa with RoseAnn. She clapped her hands in glee.
“Forget it, ladies,” said RoseAnn, her voice raised. “He’s taken.” I forced myself to stop staring at her nylon-clad legs.
The third seated woman raised an eyebrow. “You mean this is Barry? Do you lend him out?”
“What’s going on?” I asked again.
“A celebration,” said RoseAnn. “The first successful field test of our switching software.” She reached over to the coffee table, and held up a framed certificate for me to read. Her name was inscribed in large letters below a formal expression of praise to ‘The Babel Team’, for ‘Successful implementation of a switching system for cellular telephony.’
I shook my head, puzzled.
“It means,” she said, “that as you drive around, using your mobile telephone, it’s talking to one transmitting tower at a time. When a tower gets too far away, it finds another that’s closer, and switches the call over to that one. And if you’re in your car, talking on the phone, you have no idea that anything has happened. Not even a click or a buzz as it switches over. You just keep on talking.”
The short blonde cut in. “…and when you’re not using the phone, the computer still keeps track of you and knows where the nearest tower is, in case someone wants to call you.”
“I’m not sure I understand it all,” I said, “but congratulations, RoseAnn. Did anyone else here get an award?”
The brunette shook her head. “Just RoseAnn. Half a dozen men got awards, too, but they’re having their own celebration at a sports bar. We girls decided RoseAnn deserved something Taksim escort bayan better than a football game, so we bought some wine and food and came over here.”
Another woman, tall and at least part black, said, “We’re all support staff, but RoseAnn’s our rock. She stands up to management for us, and we owe her. So here we are!” She lifted her glass.
RoseAnn was blushing, but said, “Barry, be a good boy and fill everyone’s glasses, would you?”
I swallowed the ‘good boy’ remark and smiled, picking up the bottles of white and red. If it had been just RoseAnn, I might have indulged myself in a little snit. But I wouldn’t embarrass her in front of her friends, nor did I want to blunt her victory. In any case, I was fascinated by the smoky shade of nylon on her athletic legs.
The short blond caught my forearm, as if to keep her balance, while I topped up her glass. “They won’t tell you this at work,” she slurred, “but all the good ideas for this project came from RoseAnn. And you know I’m telling the truth, ’cause I’m her technical assistant and I see everything that goes on.”
The black woman brought me a glass. “Pour some for yourself and join the party, why not?”
I hesitated, and said, “I’m sorry, I can’t drink.” I was about to explain that I was three years away from legal drinking age, when I caught RoseAnn’s sharp glance. I extemporized. “I’ve got to study tonight. Anyway, who’s going to drive you all home when the party’s over.”
She shrugged and nodded thoughtfully. “You can’t be too careful, I guess.” She set the empty glass on the coffee table.
The blonde’s hand was still on my arm. “I’m Diane, by the way.”
I still held both bottles, so I couldn’t shake her hand. “I’m Barry, but I guess you know that.”
She hiccupped and said, “RoseAnn’s been telling me about you all week.”
“We’ve been friends since the spring,” I said.
“You’re doing her, right?”
I backed up a step. “That’s a personal question,” I said. “Maybe you’ve had a little too much wine.”
She giggled. “I guess I got my answer. Good thing, too. RoseAnn’s been floating around on a cloud all week. I’ve never seen her so happy. I wish I had a big handsome man who’d screw me until my eyeballs fell out.”
“Diane, that’s quite enough,” I said. The black woman was still listening and smiling. I tried to keep a stern face, but could barely suppress a laugh. “Maybe I should take that wine from you.”
“Over my dead body,” said Diane, drawing the glass close to her breast. “I’m just saying, whatever you’re doing for RoseAnn, keep it up. I actually look forward to going to work in the morning.” She drifted off to the kitchen table and the remains of the Chinese food.
The black girl came forward again. “Don’t blame Diane. The whole group’s under a lot of pressure. Diane was calm and organized six months ago when she started this job, but now she’s as frantic as everyone else. Whenever they make a deadline or come in under budget, the bosses cut the budget and accelerate the schedule so the squeeze is on again. We all try to get together and get ourselves hammered at least once a week, just to save our souls.” She thrust out her hand. “I’m Charlotte.”
I shook hands, but we both seemed to realize we had nothing more to talk about, and turned toward the general conversation in the room, general gossip about people I didn’t know. I picked up my backpack and slipped past the women to my room. Once my books were laid out, I returned for a plate of Chinese food and took it back into the bedroom.
I was immersed in a couple of difficult chemistry problems when a change in the tone of the chatter caught my attention. Curious, I wandered out into the living room. The time was eight-thirty, and the women were filing out the door.
“Anyone need a ride home?” At least two of the women would never pass the most elementary sobriety test.
The women either ignored me or shook their heads, no. Moments later, the door closed behind the last of them.
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