Sorority Girl

Chapter One        Chapter Two        Chapter Three        Chapter Four

 

Sorority Girl - Chapter Four


If something is important enough for a plan, it's important enough for a backup plan. I learned that from watching reruns of the A-Team when I was a kid. Getting back together with my boyfriend William was very important to me. So I had a plan, Plan A, which was to go to the library and have a talk with him. I knew he'd be working, and his answering machine wouldn't be able to stop me, nor would his roommate, Donald. It would just be me and William and he'd have to listen to me as I explained everything, calmly, coolly, and carefully.

Plan B was almost exactly like Plan A, except it was the backup plan, so it happened on Tuesday. It was basically the same as Plan A actually, except there was a lot more begging involved on my part. If William wouldn't listen to reason and admit that he still loved me, well, maybe I could sway his heart with pity. Or that was the theory anyway.

I went to my first class Monday morning, but all I could do was fidget and stare at the clock. I was so anxious waiting for the day to pass so I could see William that I just couldn't sit still, and I knew some of the other students, and maybe even the professor, thought I'd been jerking off probably. But I hadn't, sex was the furthest thing from my mind right then, which may seem like a strange thing to say, granted, but true nonetheless. I sat there dry as a bone, watching the clock impatiently and wasting an hour of my life.

After that experience, I just gave up on my classes for the rest of the day, deciding I needed better distractions than sitting in a classroom listening to some old guy telling me how the world was supposed to work. I needed something to take my mind off what was coming, and failing that, I thought I could at least do something positive about it. A girl of action, yeah, that was me. Right.

I headed off campus to find some flowers. I'd thought about the poetry thing, but that seemed kind of iffy. I knew what sort of flowers William liked anyway; being a guy, he liked roses, but his taste in poetry? Who knows what other people like? Plus he knew a whole lot more about that stuff than I ever would, so I didn't want to run the risk of picking out something really cheesy. But flowers? A dozen roses, that's what the situation called for in my expert opinion. I just hoped I had enough money. I didn't know exactly how much roses might cost, but they probably weren't cheap or they wouldn't mean as much, right?

I grabbed all the cash I had, about $238.47 and walked off campus, heading towards the shops and stores that constituted the local chamber of commerce. Mostly they were geared towards the college crowd, music stores, vintage clothing, little head shops selling clove cigarettes and the occasional water bong, just in case you liked your 'tobacco' real mellow. And of course there had to be a florist, several of them in fact, because there were always girls like me who needed to get back together with guys like William.

"Hmmm…" I stood in front of a big glass refrigerator, scratching my head because that's the universal signal for a woman in distress. The guy working the flower shop knew it well and it wasn't long before he walked over with a helpful, even sympathetic smile.

"Can I help you find something?" he asked pleasantly and I nodded.

"Yeah, um, I need some roses. What do the colors mean?"

I'd been looking at a rainbow of roses, white, black, blue, green, yellow, even red, although I wasn't sure why anyone would want red roses. Maybe for a funeral or something and I made a note of that in case something went terribly wrong later.

"Um, well, the white ones are mostly for romance," he made it sound like a question, "since they're, you know…white?"

"Like the virgin thing." I nodded, looking at him just to see if he'd blush, but he didn't.

He just giggled and I wondered why he wasn't in school. He looked cute in his green apron and white blouse, but he looked about twelve-years-old too. Sort of a petite young man, you know? He wore a name tag shaped like a daisy or something and it said Peter on it.

"The blue ones are like for sick people? Or uh, if you have a baby and it's a girl, you give your husband blue roses."

"And pink ones for a boy. Okay." That seemed pretty obvious.

"Right," he smiled. "You, um…You didn't have a baby, did you?"

"No!" I gave him a little laugh and then a look up and down. "Not yet. Why?"

"What?" Peter did blush then. "Uhhh…Oh! Black ones are for apologies and stuff like that, and…"

"Apologies? So like if I wanted to apologize to my boyfriend for something, I'd get him black ones?"

"Yeah. Exactly," he nodded, brushing his brown hair back as it fell into his eyes. "Or white ones…or both sometimes. Lots of people like to mix them up."

"Black, huh." I pondered that. "Why black?"

"I don't know," Peter shrugged.

"It's the shadow of guilt," a familiar voice said and I turned around and almost didn't recognize the young man standing there. "The renaissance painters used to darken their subjects, or place them in shadow if they were guilty. Like Judy Iscariot in the painting of the Last Supper."

"Wow! Cool." Peter smiled, nodding his head. "Thanks. I didn't know that."

"If the person you give one to accepts it, he's supposed to pull the petals off, tossing them into the wind as a symbol of forgiveness," the man explained. "A lost custom, I'm afraid."

"Valentine?" I asked, licking my lips nervously.

He was dressed differently, of course, wearing a yellow sundress that seemed practically sheer as the morning sun streamed though it. His blonde hair still lay across his shoulders in a perfect French curl though, and his eyes were still wonderfully green and smiling into mine. He looked even more beautiful than I remembered and as I suddenly recalled everything, I felt my cheeks redden. What did a girl say to the prostitute she'd pay for once upon a time and not so long ago?

"I thought it was you," Valentine nodded with a cheerful smile, holding his purse in front of him with both hands. "Hi, Jennifer."

"I'm…I was just, uh…I'm buying flowers," I said, feeling utterly helpless.

"But not for me." He laughed lightly and Peter gave us curious looks.

"For my boyfriend, William," I explained, not really sure what sort of ground I was treading on.

"Ah!" Valentine nodded again. "Good, we like flowers." Valentine reached out and gave my hand a little squeeze, surprising me.

"I'm just trying to figure out which kind," I shrugged. "Um, you wouldn't happen to…"

"You want advice from me?" he asked with a precious giggle. It seemed flirtatious, but innocent too and if I hadn't loved William so much…

"Well," I grinned. "Yeah."

Valentine had to be just about the most sophisticated person I'd ever met, really. Like he didn't belong in this little town at all, you know?

"Hmmm…" Valentine pursed his lips and narrowed his eyes a little, looking at the flowers, "…roses for your boyfriend, right?"

"Uh-huh," I agreed.

"Making up with him?"

"Yeah. Sorta, um…Yeah," I sighed.

"White would be best," he told me. "For your boyfriend."

"White." I nodded.

"But if it were me?" Valentine turned his beautiful face to look into my eyes. "I'd want the red ones."

"Red? For you?" Peter asked and the salesboy sounded shocked.

"Why red?" I asked him.

"Because red is the color of passion," Valentine smiled. "They're for secret loves, not husbands or boyfriends."

"I thought they were for funerals," I admitted, feeling foolish.

"Yellow is for funerals," the boy next to me shrugged. "Red is for, uh…gallants."

"Yes," Valentine smiled at the look on Peter's face. "Give her a dozen white ones, with baby's breath…" he looked at me, "…a dozen?"

"Uh, yeah," I nodded. "How much are they?"

"They're $8.50 each," Peter said, "That's $108.12 including tax."

"Let me have one red one too," I said, making up my mind on the spur of the moment. "Uh, separately."

"For me?" Valentine smiled. "You'll spoil me, Jennifer!" He laughed, clutching my arm briefly, and I seriously doubted I could ever spoil him.

"No problem," Peter said with a small laugh as he started selecting roses from the refrigerator. He probably saw all sorts of weird customers though, even college girls buying roses for prostitutes.

"Do you want to have lunch with me?" Valentine asked as we waited for the flower boy to do his job.

"Lunch?" I blinked at him. "I don't want to, um…you know…ah…"

"It's okay," Valentine giggled. "I'm not working right now. Just lunch, I promise."

"Uh, sure. Okay," I nodded, and I suppose part of me felt disappointed that he'd meant it so literally, but I was glad Valentine hadn't tried to talk me out of another hundred dollars too. I seriously doubt I could have said no more than once.

=--=-=-=--=

"So, now you have to tell me what happened," Valentine decided. We were seated in an outdoor restaurant, Trattoria Manzo, an Italian restaurant with red and white canopies over the tables.

"About what?" I asked innocently.

"About why you have to buy a dozen roses for your boyfriend." He smiled. "It couldn't have been me, so…?"

"Oh, no. It's nothing." I shook my head.

"Maybe I can help." Valentine leaned across the table touching my hand. "I know an awful lot about boys, believe me."

He had a point there, but I wasn't sure talking to him about my boyfriend was necessarily a good idea. I did have some feelings for Valentine, although I wasn't comfortable with them and I did my best to hide them away. I remembered telling the man I loved him, and that was enough to redden my cheeks noticeably. Falling in love with a prostitute had to be some sort of cliché, didn't it? But Valentine had shrugged it off so easily, and not without some small amount of grace. Perhaps I wasn't the first customer who'd told him that and the thought made me vaguely jealous.

"Uh-hmmm…" I cleared my throat, looking down at his small hand holding mine. "He loves me, but he's graduating this year and, uh, well, he thinks we're too close." I shrugged. "That we'll get too close and when he has to leave, um…when he has to leave me, it'll be too painful or something."

"So he broke up with you?" Valentine asked.

"Yeah, he broke up with me," I agreed with a sigh. "And he won't even talk to me about it." Which I suppose was what really bothered me most of all.

"Too close…" Valentine looked at me. "You mean if you have sex?"

"I don't know." I sighed. "He's a virgin so, yeah, maybe." I paused for a second. "But I wouldn't ever do anything, you know, force him or whatever."

"I know." Valentine gave me a supportive smile.

We stopped talking while the waiter took our order. Valentine wanted to order for me, since all I knew of Italian food was spaghetti, lasagna, and pizza, and I'd heard once that pizza wasn't even really Italian, so maybe I knew even less than I thought I did.

"Hey, that stuff with the roses and the paintings, how do you know so much about that?" I asked, trying one of the warm breadsticks that the waiter had left behind.

"I'm an artist," Valentine said. "I used to work on canvas, oils mostly, but now I like to sculpt."

"Porcelain?" I guessed and he rewarded me with his brilliant smile. "I saw the dolls and the figurines."

"Yeah, I did those," he nodded. "I want to go to Italy, to Florence. There's a famous school there, specializing in sculpture and porcelain."

"So you should be an art major," I suggested, "not a…What was it? A psych major?"

"Ah, well, I lied about that," Valentine laughed. "I was a psych major once, but I dropped out. I wanted to make money and chase the dream…"

"Rather than spend money and end up chasing the clock, right?"

"Exactly," he shrugged. "I make good money, working…" he gave me a little smile, dropping his eyes modestly, "…and I save quite a bit. I don't have any real expenses except my apartment."

"So when are you going to Italy?" I asked, not teasing him at all.

"Next year." Valentine's green eyes were shining with intent. "I've sent samples of my work, arranged letters of introduction through a gallery in San Francesca."

"A gallery, huh?" I nodded, wishing I was smart enough to really appreciate what Valentine was explaining to me.

"Yeah, I show my work there. Once in awhile they sell something, and that's always nice," he said. "But it hasn't made me rich."

"It's a start, right?" I smiled at him.

"It's a start," Valentine agreed.

We ate our meal, smiling and talking and becoming intimate, I think, without realizing it. We talked about our families and friends and growing up and plans for the future. Valentine was charming and beautiful all the while and he somehow seemed to bring out the best in me, or so it seemed. I couldn't remember feeling so comfortable with a boy, not even William until I'd known him several months at least. I couldn't imagine it was simply because Valentine was a prostitute and must have had more than a fair share of people skills, it had to be something else, something deeper, and it confused me.

"Do you want to come up to my apartment?" Valentine asked softly, leaning close across the table.

We'd finished our meal and sat there, sipping wine and smiling and paused in our conversation. Not one of those awkward pauses, but one of the good sort, the gentle, natural pauses in which we seldom indulge for lack of confidence.

"I thought you weren't working," I said, and immediately regretted it with a blush, but Valentine just giggled and I felt his bare foot rubbing my leg under the table.

"I'm not." He licked his passion red lips.

I stared at him for a long moment, thinking about William, or trying to at least. There was little doubt that I loved William, but my emotions were awash with desire for Valentine. He seemed too perfect, just sitting there. I hadn't looked for flaws, but how hard were they to find in another person, really? Usually not very and we would overlook them, or make our own silent excuses and forgive them, but Valentine…There was nothing about the man I could find disagreeable to my nature, even knowing that he had sex for money couldn't stain my image of him.

"Yes." I let out the breath I was holding. "I want to come up to your apartment very much."

I insisted on paying for the meal, which had been exquisite, although that had more to do with Valentine's company than anything else. I wouldn't remember what I'd eaten a year or even a month later, but I'd remember his eyes, his smile and laugh. I'd remember him forever.

While we waited for the waiter to return, Valentine opened the small clear plastic box his single red rose had been packaged in, tied shut with a thin red ribbon.

"No one has ever given me a rose before." He smiled at me, holding up with his fingers just beneath the half opened bud and the remainder of the long stem curving down.

"I don't believe you," I laughed.

"Not a single rose, not once," he assured me.

"I should have bought you a dozen," I said, meaning every word of it.

"No, I've had a dozen." He smiled at the flower and his voice was soft. "This is better. It means more to me than a dozen roses ever would." His eyes lifted, looking into mine through a veil of golden hair. "Thank you."

"You're welcome," I said, feeling self-conscious for some reason, but every time he looked at me like that I felt…not inadequate, not that, Valentine gave me confidence. I felt as though I wanted to be a better person; to be the person that he was seeing when he looked at me.

"I'm going to carry it like this," he giggled. "And hold your hand and everyone will know I'm your gallant. Not your husband. Not your boyfriend, but your lover."

"Are you?" I couldn't help but ask for fear that he was teasing me.

"Today I am." Valentine smiled and for the first time perhaps I saw something shy behind his eyes. "Tomorrow you can tell me."

The waiter returned and we left, with Valentine as good as his word, carrying the rose close to his chest and holding me close as well. I had my arm around his waist, as we walked the few blocks to his apartment. A gallant, pronounced in the French tradition, was a role much like that of a mistress, although there were rather more of the former than the latter, of course. And doubtless Valentine was playing with me, since a woman would be expected to provide for her gallant and I had barely the means to buy us lunch. But it was a very fine illusion and I enjoyed the man's attentions very much, even if I didn't understand why they should be mine.

"Why me?" I asked, standing close to Valentine in his apartment, holding him in my arms much as I had on my previous visit. "What did I do to deserve this? To deserve…you?"

"Because you have to ask," Valentine sighed into my ear. "You're so sweet…"

He kissed me, pressing his lips to mine and I groaned into his mouth, pulling him hard against me so that I could feel my hard nipples against his chest through the t-shirt I wore. Valentine's tongue was wet and long, moving slowly around mine, and he had his hands low on my back, to my ass so that our hips pressed together. I felt his hard cock, barely contained beneath the thin cotton of his dress, grinding against my crotch.

Morning had changed to early afternoon by this time and sunlight streamed through the large windows behind the brass bed, filtered by scarlet curtains to give the room a warm, passionate glow. All around us were the porcelain dolls and figurines Valentine had crafted with his own delicate fingers. Soft music played and all I could feel and taste and smell was the man in my arms.

When Valentine began undressing me, I didn't resist. I moved as he desired, allowing his hands to roam where they would, lifting my shirt over my head so that we broke our kiss briefly, both of us smiling and flushed and panting for air. He tossed my shirt carelessly, returning us to kiss again as his hand found my breasts, caressing my body and making me shiver momentarily. My nipple was swollen and stiff beneath Valentine's thumb and I felt his other hand lower, working blindly at my pants.

"I want to suck you," Valentine breathed, undoing the zipper of my trousers and slipping his hand inside to feel the moist warmth of my sex.

"God yessss…" I hissed between my teeth, guiding the man down to kneel in front of me with a wonderful sense of déjà vu. He undressed me, just as he had the night I'd been with him, taking his time and making a sensual ceremony of the simplest acts imaginable.

The air felt cool on my skin, but the warmth of Valentine's breath felt even better and he kissed my thighs, his hands moving up and down on my calves, stroking the short dark hair curling from my skin. He teased me with his mouth, kissing around my sex, at the tops of my leg, across the swell of my pubis, and around to the other side.

"Like this…" Valentine was whispering, turning me with his soft hands on my hips, until I was turned completely and he knelt behind me.

Goosebumps broke out across my skin as he kissed the back of my thighs and finally my ass, dragging his teeth across the round swell of my cheeks. Valentine bit me, kissed and sucked at my skin, his hands in constant motion and finally spreading my ass so his mouth could delve into the soft warmth hidden there. I'd never had a rim job in my life and Valentine pressed his hand to the small of my back, reaching higher and urging me silently to bend over, thrusting back with my hips to present the man my most private places.

"Ahhmmm…" I sighed deeply, and then gave a gasp as Valentine's tongue brushed across the tight pucker of my anus.

I was literally shaking with unexpected pleasure, having never guessed such a thing could feel so good. Valentine was working his wet tongue hard against my ass, urging me to open for him, just enough so the tip could penetrate my virgin hole. I found myself reaching back, groaning with pleasure as my fingers dug into his silky blonde hair, pulling him hard against my flesh, begging the man to eagerly tongue my asshole. It seemed dirty and nasty and oh so sexy like that. I felt myself close to cumming already and he hadn't even come close to touching my throbbing clit as yet.

When I felt Valentine's finger replacing his tongue I arched my back, sucking a deep breath into my aching lungs. Anal sex was something most women seemed to want, but most men were reluctant to try, at least the so-called 'nice guys' and it was hard to remember that Valentine was a prostitute and had probably tried things I couldn't even imagine. He turned his finger slowly, withdrawing it every few seconds so that he could lick around his penetration, adding his spit to ease his finger ever deeper until I felt the soft muscles inside my ass yielding, letting him push his finger past the first knuckle and then the second.

It became impossible to avoid touching myself, reaching down with my right hand to rub my burning clit. Juices were already leaking between my swollen labia, the wetness clinging to my skin, cooling the insides of my thighs. My body shuddered as I jerked myself hard, my fingers moving across my clit in a blur. I was breathing hard, moving my hips, and fucking my ass on Valentine's fingers. I had to cum, I was close and my heart hammered in my chest.

"Cum on my face…" Valentine breathed, contorting himself to keep his finger buried in my ass and turning his body, sitting on the floor between my widely spread legs.

He looked up at me, so beautiful with his flushed face shiny with spit from eating my ass. He had his mouth open, his pink tongue extended just below my burning cunt. I groaned, staring down at him and he stabbed his finger hard into my ass just as my orgasm peaked, filling me with perverse pleasure. I felt my cunt spasm wildly, spraying my cum across Valentine's upturned face.

"Oh God…" I was felt dizzy, my knees weakening and I could do nothing but stroke my clit, watching as my fertile girl juice streamed out of my pussy like piss, pooling inside Valentine's mouth and running across his cheeks, down his chin and neck. It was in his hair and nose and he had to close his eyes against the sudden flood.

Valentine swallowed my cum and quickly brought his mouth to my cunt, covering my tight hole with a lewd French kiss. His tongue pushed inward, stiff and wriggling through the taut muscular ring of my hymen, clenched tightly inside me. My cunt muscles were spasming, contracting instinctively around a non-existent cock. It always felt like a curious and almost disappointing sensation, cumming without penetration, but I couldn't complain. I was nearly senseless with pleasure, my orgasm subsiding slowly, replaced with the endless mini-orgasms which would last for a good long time to come.

"Down…Down here…" I was dimly aware of Valentine's voice as he pulled me down, withdrawing his finger as he positioned me on my hands and knees. He hadn't undressed at all and I stared with lust filled eyes as he simply lifted his cum stained dress, kneeling behind me and letting his skirt cover my back like a thin blanket.

He freed his penis, perhaps wearing a thong, like the G-string he'd worn the other night. I could feel it, Valentine's cock, hard and huge seeming as he rubbed the head across my cunt, not that he could fuck me there, my hymen was much too tight for that now, but he gathered the wetness still spilling from my slit. He lubricated his cock generously with my girlish fluids and I watched him over my shoulder, his face wet and shining with my cum. I willed my body to relax as I knew valentine intended to push his thick penis inside my tender rectum.

"Fuck me…Fuck my ass…" I panted for him, shaking uncontrollably with excitement.

I'd never dreamt I'd take a man up my ass, or at least never really believed it would ever happen, but now Valentine was pressing the smooth head of his lubricated cock to my little hole. He was wet with his precum and my own orgasm and I moaned loudly, clenching my teeth as I felt it finally, stretching my ass painfully at first, like a cramp and then sharper, like a blunt knife stabbing into my body.

"You're so tight…So good…" Valentine's voice was filled with the pleasure of my ass being stretched around him.

He would push himself inside me a little deeper with each stroke, taking me slowly, giving me time to accept his cock, my muscles surrendering only reluctantly. I felt a mix of intense pleasure and surprising pain, like a sharp burning sensation that might have been unpleasant any other time, but right then it was perfect. I found myself pushing back, rocking my body against Valentine's thrusts as he held my hips. We were soon fucking hard, his long thick cock moving back and forth in my ass easily, making love to me even as my cunt burned empty.

Valentine took a long time to cum, surprising me as I imagined he must have been as close as I'd been, but he wasn't. He had amazing powers of self control and I as he began fucking my ass hard I was reminded of how he'd been able to fuck my spasming cunt for so long the first time we'd had sex. It was incredible, the sensations produced inside my body. Valentine was smaller than me, being a man, weaker and soft, but it didn't seem that way. He pushed me lower, lifting himself to change the angle, so that he was pushing his cock down, spearing inside me until his heavy balls slapped against my sweltering sex.

"Uhhh…I'm going to…cum…" he groaned softly, drawing a deep breath as he drove his cock as far inside my tender asshole as he could. I could feel him seeming to swell even more, his cock suddenly pulsing inside me, spurting rapidly and filling the depths of my ass with his hot sperm. I felt sore and hot back there, but still I tried to find those muscles, to squeeze his penis, wanting to milk him with my ass the way my pussy would have.

"Did you like that?" Valentine asked, smiling and breathing hard as he lowered his chest to my back, keeping his cock inside me as he kissed my neck and cheeks and finally my mouth when I turned my face to him.

"God yes," I panted. "I loved it"

We kissed like that until Valentine's cock softened just enough for my weary muscles to force him out. I'd been well-fucked and stretched inside and my bowels felt funny, loose and greasy as I moved, feeling Valentine's sperm squishing around as my rectum tried to regain its natural form.

My little orgasms were ending finally, slowing and fading quietly, and my hymen began to relax, the ring-like muscle shrinking back and opening my cunt as I was finally able to rest after almost twenty minutes of constant stimulation. Valentine stood up, holding out his hand and helping me stand on shaky legs. It had been a wild experience for me and I still felt a little dazed by it all.

"Can you unbutton me?" he asked, smiling over his shoulder as he turned around and I nodded.

"I think I need a shower," I grinned, undoing the buttons along Valentine's spine. I felt damp and sticky with sweat and the juices from my cunt, not to mention the small bit of sperm starting to leak out of my well-fucked ass.

"I have one of those." Valentine slipped his dress over his shoulders, letting slide down his smooth flushed body. "And it's big enough for two."

"You weren't wearing any underwear?" I almost gasped at the realization as he led me into the bathroom.

"Not today," he giggled. "You could have really embarrassed me at lunch."

"Oh God!" I laughed.

I wiped at my anus with a bit of tissue while Valentine turned on the shower and I glanced at it, surprised to see some pinkish blood mixed with the man's sperm.

"I'm bleeding," I said, still looking at the tissue.

"It was your first time." He offered me an apologetic smile. "I tried to be gentle for you."

"I know, it's okay. I guess I'm not a virgin anymore." I laughed, shaking my head at the thought and tossing the tissue into the toilet.

I wondered what it would be like to feel that sort of pain the first time I'd had vaginal sex and I couldn't. My cunt was made for fucking and the first time had felt wonderful, only boys had to suffer that initial discomfort and sacrifice a bit of blood in the name of love. At least now I had some small idea of what that must be like, but of course I was sure it had to be very different for them as well.

I felt no guilt leaving Valentine's apartment, except maybe for the mess we'd made. He must spend all of his free time cleaning, I thought, getting girl stains out of the carpet and bed sheets. I know I'd made a mess of it on my two visits. He'd given me his phone number and a promised lunch date with him the following day. His nights were spent working, Valentine had said, but he would be mine during the day. I tried not to think about what he would be doing on those evenings, because it did make me jealous. But girls were supposed to be jealous and possessive, it was in our blood. Boys were less inclined and better able to understand the varied needs of our bodies.

Women could have sex anytime, for as long as they wanted really, every day of the week and twice on Sundays. Our bodies were made for it, but men, they could only make so much sperm, and only so fast, and they needed time to recover. When a man had been drained completely he might not even be able to get an erection for a day or two, or even longer as he grew older, while his wife or girlfriend was ever anxious and ready for more. So it only made sense that a woman should have more than one lover and very few boys would disagree, although most couples found themselves happily monogamous after marriage. But even then it wasn't unreasonable for a woman to enjoy the occasional flirtation with a man not her husband.

But these thoughts were fleeting as I made my way towards the library. I'd spent all afternoon with Valentine. We'd made love in the shower, but as much as I'd wanted him to, he wouldn't cum inside me. He couldn't afford even the smallest chance of getting pregnant. He'd withdrawn just before my second orgasm of the day and used his mouth to give me pleasure beneath the hot spray of water. I wanted him to cum as well, but he'd had to save himself for work, which was another small disappointment for me, but one I could live with.

It occurred to me that men weren't really suited to be prostitutes, but who else would do it? There were a lot of women who were willing to pay for sex and I guess that was why Valentine was so good with his hands and mouth. His mouth seemed as good as regular sex…maybe even better. Almost.

What I was really thinking about though, as I walked somewhat stiffly with my sore ass a constant reminder of Valentine, was William and what I was going to say to him. I carried the long box with his roses under my arm, feeling a little strange as it had to be obvious what I carried, I suppose. But I was a girl with a boyfriend, my roses announced, and one I cared a great deal about. So it put some small sense of pride into my step, as well as all the confidence in the world, thanks to Valentine who had done nothing but compliment me and thank me for fucking him the way I had. I'd smiled and accepted his praise, of course, but I had more than a small suspicion that he'd been the one fucking me.

Valentine liked my innocence, I think. I was good looking, I knew that, but I didn't exactly possess the most dynamic personality in the world either. Perhaps he liked being my teacher. I pushed that thought out of my mind though, needing to be dynamic and aggressive, and confident as I approached the library. I couldn't imagine not persuading William to take me back. I hadn't really done anything wrong and if he loved me as I thought I loved him, we owed ourselves a chance to talk about the possibilities we might have together. He had to give me that much at least.

"Hi." I smiled at William, who sat there behind the big front desk, just the same as always. Except this time he didn't smile back.

"Jen," he sighed, tilting his head slightly. "You shouldn't have come here. I told you…"

"I love you," I said, not bothering to lower my voice at all and I didn't even look around to see if anyone was looking at us.

William didn't look around either, but his cheeks colored pleasantly.

"I brought you something." I put the box on the desk. "Flowers." I tapped them with my finger lightly, as if making sure they really were.

"Jen, I just don't want to be hurt," he whispered. "I don't want to hurt you."

"Just…" I held up my hand. "Just listen to me, okay?" I looked at him and he nodded, and then I did look around, seeing about a dozen people pretending not to watch us. "Come on…"

"No...I can't..." William protested, but I wouldn't let go of his hand.

I led William past rows of books to the farthest, dimmest aisle I could find. The place where nobody ever went and I glanced at the shelves because I'd never been there before either. They were filled floor to ceiling with old encyclopedias from before I'd even been born, the covers faded and torn and the glue in the bindings yellow and dry like dandruff on the shelves.

"Don't they ever throw these things away?" I asked, almost forgetting why I was there.

But then I caught myself, looking at William as he stood quietly in a dark dress, with a full length skirt and white lace around the cuffs and collar. He looked like a librarian on his way to a funeral and that dress belonged on a man twice his age at least. He was trying to be unattractive, I thought, but it didn't work. His face was still lovely and his eyes still the prettiest shade of blue I'd ever dreamt of. He took my breath away and I had to take another before I could speak.

"William…" I said quietly, reciting the words I'd practiced in my head a thousand times that day. "I know why you want to break up with me. You're afraid I don't love you, that I'll ask you to do something that you don't want to do. You think that once you graduate you'll never see me again and maybe I'm just another girl looking for sex or whatever."

I waited to see if he'd say something, if he'd disagree with me, but he just stood there, looking down at a place just below my eyes, at my mouth maybe. William played with his fingers nervously and chewed his lower lip. I wanted to take him in my arms so badly right then. He was the man I loved, the one I wanted to care for. I wanted him to need me, as much as I needed him. These feelings were so much different from the ones I had for Valentine - he'd never need me for anything, and it even seemed our roles were reversed somehow. But William, he was the man I could hold and protect and have children with someday.

"You're afraid if I ask you, if I push you to make love, you'll do it." I did reach out then, holding the boy by his shoulders, pulling him closer, and wishing he'd look up at me, but he merely turned his head further down.

"I don't know," he whispered, blinking his eyes and I knew it was the truth. He loved me and William wouldn't say no, even if it meant he'd leave college without his dignity. Without me after I'd gotten what I wanted. He had to protect himself and I had to convince him of the truth.

"I love you, William. I…I don't have a ring or anything, but…" I knelt down on the cold marble floor in a musty row of useless books. "Will you marry me, William?"

I held both of his hands and looked up, trying to see his eyes in the shadow of his beautiful face. I stayed like that, unable to breathe as I waited for his answer and praying that it would be the one that I wanted to hear.

"Yes." I heard him say and for a second I thought I'd only imagined it. "Yes, Jennifer. I'll marry you." I felt his fingers squeeze mine and I saw just the barest smile on his face as he nodded.

The air rushed out of me suddenly, like I'd been keeping myself upright with it, and as I let it go I almost fell over, but I didn't. I smiled and stood up quickly, taking William in my arms and kissing his cheeks, finding them wet with tears. I kissed his eyes and then finally his lips, enveloping the boy in my arms.

"I don't ever want to lose you again," I whispered. "I love you so much…I love you…"

"I love you too." He was crying, but they were tears of joy, even relief perhaps. We kissed long and hard, everything else forgotten until I felt the swell of William's penis beneath his skirt, rubbing my thigh as he played his tongue beneath mine.

"I want you to be a virgin on our wedding night, okay?" I whispered into his ear.

"Oh! God, yes…I'm sorry. I'm so sorry, I didn't..." William sighed, kissing me again, as if he couldn't get enough of me suddenly. And perhaps we were both famished for each other as I never wanted to let him go. I couldn't lose him ever again.

"My parents want to meet you too," I started telling him, thinking of all the things that were suddenly changed. We were getting married! I felt crazy inside, like I was doing cartwheels on a merry-go-round or something.

"They do?" William looked at me, his eyes wide and I nodded. "What if they don't like me?" he asked with a nervous giggle.

"They will, don't worry, and I want to meet yours too," I laughed. "Maybe your mom won't like me."

"No!" William smiled happily. "I'll make her like you!"

"We can go over Christmas, okay? My parents will pay for it, a few days at my house, a few days at yours…"

"A few days by ourselves?" William widened his eyes impishly, bringing his hand to my breasts, giving me a playful squeeze.

"When do you want to get married?" I asked him.

"A spring wedding." William smiled, his eyes shining into mine. "Ummm, after Alde rises again, in May."

"Okay." I kissed him. "God, I love you."

"I'm so sorry." William kissed me back. "I wasn't thinking. You kept talking about the sorority and the initiation and I thought for sure you were going to join and make me do…" he lifted a hand helplessly, "…something." He looked up at me, licking his lips. "You can have my virginity whenever you want it, Jen."

"On our wedding night," I told him sincerely. "That's when I want it. I want us to get pregnant, okay?"

"Really?" He smiled nodding and hugging me and I could feel his cock as it must have been aching painfully in his panties. "It's gonna be hard to wait," he giggled in my ear.

"I can tell." I laughed, reaching down to hold his tight round ass in my hands. "Umm, the sorority thing…I need you to come with me on Wednesday." I felt William's body stiffen slightly in my arms. "To the initiation."

"But I thought…" He narrowed his eyes, frowning slightly.

"It's okay, you'll still be a virgin afterwards, I promise. No one will hurt you, I swear," I said, watching his cloudy face as he listened. "You have to trust me, okay?"

"How do you know? I mean…"

"Because my dad told me," I smiled at him. "He was the virgin at my mom's initiation."

"Oh." William seemed to think about that.

"Trust me, okay? Please?"

"Okay." William licked his lips and made his decision. "Yeah, Jen. I trust you."

And then we kissed again.

 

        End