"Seduction By Numbers: Past Prologue" by Eagle1

Brandon could hear the steady drip from the faucet in the next room.

Drip.

Drip.

Drip.

He found the sound strangely soothing. Like a metronome, it provided him with a rhythm. With a beat. It was a constant. It was reliable.

Letting his eyes drift to the walls around him, he didn't need to come to any realization that he had no idea where he was. He'd known that since he'd first arrived at wherever here was. He'd merely come here. He'd merely cum here. But that sound had kept him grounded throughout. Kept him from sinking into a well of his own despair. Gave him a reason to let his thoughts drift to something real. Gave him something to concentrate on as the drugs and the alcohol from last night had worn off. Had left his mind clear again. He'd lain here all night listening to it. Unable to find solace in sleep.

The girl beside him stirred. Starting to move in her sleep, edging towards wakefulness.

Brandon tried to concentrate on a memory of her. Any memory at all. Tried to find anything about her in which he could remember exactly what had happened the night before.

He remembered being at the party. His fraternity had thrown yet another party. Was always throwing a party. The brothers were nothing if not consistent. And he'd sat there in the smoky room watching all those people. Like he was watching a movie. He'd watched the college kids and he'd watched the townies. They were dancing he'd decided. Not dancing, but dancing: an interaction, a way of relating. He'd sat there with his beer in one hand and his cigarette in the other.

Whatever he'd taken from Joel earlier in the night had left him a visitor in his own flesh. Emotionless and void, bringing him face to face with himself. It was frightening. He'd known then what his problem was. That evening's epiphany. He was so fucking bored. So unbelievably fucking bored.

He had become empty. Devoid of emotion.

The girl had been across the room from him. She'd been drunk or high, or maybe like him a little of both. He'd fucked her only because he felt he'd had to. Because she was there. Because it was what guys do. It was a reaction to the situation that was called for and nothing more.

He'd gotten up from his chair. Taken her by the hand and told her he was going to fuck her. Not that he wanted to. Merely that he was going to.

She had accepted this as a foregone conclusion, even though she hadn't spoken a word to him yet.

She'd taken him here. He had no memory of the journey. But he assumed that he was in a dorm room somewhere. Probably somewhere at the College. Then again he had no memory of even who this girl was. She could have been any girl in the world. She was any girl in the world.

Then they'd fucked.

That was the most surreal part. Her pussy had looked so surreal, and his body had responded to the stimulation she'd provided on its own accord. He'd watched her lying there on the bed and felt his dick grow. But the experience had been like watching one of the porno tapes he kept back at the dorm. His body had become the star of a show that nobody was watching.

Even when his cock had slid into her, he felt it could easily have been sliding into anything. He looked at the end table next to the bed and saw the condom wrapper lying there. A tear obscuring the logo. She'd moaned and pulled at him. Digging her fingers into the flesh of his back as he lay on top of her doing his business. That's exactly what he was doing. His business. It all felt very normal. He craved the normality. And this girl was just another opportunity. Just another. Just another what? A fuck? A score? An easy lay? Had he laid her before?

For a second he realized that he couldn't remember. He panicked. He felt he was sinking into the bed. He sat bolt upright unable to recall ever having fucked another person before. The walls closed in upon him. It was like realizing he'd left his pot burning back at home and it had caused the entire dorm to burn down. No that wasn't right he thought, it was that he'd left the oven on.

Whatever.

Then the walls were back to normal. The pounding in his chest eased and he felt himself relax, sinking back beside the naked woman next to him.

What the fuck, he thought. What's the matter with me? He felt the need to see a shrink.

The girl rolled over next to him.

She was pretty, he thought. Or at least he would have thought she was pretty if he'd thought anything about her at all.

Then the urgency to piss came upon him and he realized that he couldn't lay there forever. Wherever there was. So he got up. The air was cool against his flesh, and the room took on a different perspective as he stood. He casually bent down to pick up the two condoms that lay on the floor next to the bed filled with his own essence. For some reason he felt that he couldn't leave them lying there, so he tossed them in the garbage can near the table.

The sound of his own piss hitting the toilet bowl brought him comfort in the same way that the leaky faucet had. He felt that at least he could still take pleasure in the simple things life offered. Like the feeling of relief that occurred whenever a guy took a really good, really long, really hard piss.

The last of the feeling of panic drained into that toilet bowl, and he was relieved to think that he might be okay. That he might get through this. Whatever this was. And for the first time in a very long time, he felt life start to flow back in his veins. As he turned to walk out of the bathroom, he reached over and turned the faucet tightly to stop the steady drip.

Back in the bedroom she lay there awake, watching him walk into the room.

"Hey," she said.

"Hey," he replied, unsure what else to say.

He noticed that her gaze drifted over his muscles and his cock. Then it drifted back up to his eyes. He turned his gaze away, finding that he was unable to look at her. To look her in the eye. He knew she was beautiful. Awkward as she lay there, but nevertheless beautiful and charming. Each round curve offering a promise of comfort to his needs. Providing the response necessary to make him a man.

"So, I'm gonna hit the road," he told her, his voice filled with an early morning gruffness, "Got stuff to do."

She merely regarded him. Maybe she was at loss for the events of the past night too.

He gathered up his clothes and pulled them on.

"So, I'll see ya round?" he asked as he stood in the open doorway.

She nodded slowly. Her face remaining expressionless. He nodded his response to her and went out the door. He could hear it close behind him on its own. Like everything else that had happened that night, the door had acted of its own volition, not his.

The elevator seemed to take forever. He wasn't sure what time it was, but it must have been early for no signs of life stirred from behind any doors on the hallway. It was deathly quiet.

When the elevator doors opened he was blinded. The light of the early morning sun spilled into the lobby, and into his eyes. He pulled his designer sunglasses out of his bag and slipped them on. Beyond the light now shielded from his eyes he could see the outline of the campus of the College. He looked at it a moment and sighed.

The desk attendant called to him as he approached the doors, reminding him insistently to pick up the driver's license he'd used to check in last night, but Brandon just ignored her insistent drone.

He just didn't want to remember who he was for a little while....

* * *

(c) 2003 by Eagle1 - all rights reserved. Any similarity to characters or situations, real or imagined, is purely coincidental. Unless you happened to be there of course.

May be reprinted without permission of author in materials distributed free of charge or on websites where there is no fee charged for access.