“FUUUUCCCCKKKK!!!!” Christos shouted.
A thick rope of semen jetted out of his cock.
“AAAAAHHHHH!!!!” he shouted again.
More and more come gushed out of him, splashing on the shower floor.
“Oh my god!” I blurted. “There’s so much!” Not that I had much to compare it too, but it was a lot more than I had expected.
Christos was lost somewhere. Knowing that I had taken him on this journey was about the coolest thing I’d ever done in the bedroom, er, I meant the shower. I’d done it. I’d made him come.
Me.
Wow.
I kept wringing the head of his cock with my fingers and pumping the shaft with my other hand, wondering how far I could take things. Christos’ body was sagging against the shower wall. Then suddenly, he lurched forward as my fingers again slid over the head of his cock.
“Fuck! Stop!”
I yanked my hand away, suddenly worried I’d broken something. “I’m sorry! What did I do?”
He slung his arm over my shoulder and kissed my cheek. “The head gets super sensitive after I come. I mean, like, a million times more sensitive.”
“Oh. Is that bad?” I asked, concerned.
He kissed me briefly. “No, it’s all good.” He chuckled throatily. “I mean, crazy, insanely good.”
“Do you want me to stop?”
“No. Just, let me relax, and keep doing it, just go slow.”
“Are you sure?”
“Totally,” he moaned.
I started up again, slowly. Every time the ring of my circled fingers squeezed down the head of him, his entire body shivered. I worried he was going to fall to the tiles and hurt himself, he shook so hard.
“More?” I asked uncertainly.
“Uh, uh, uh, uh, uh,” was all he could say.
Eventually, he knelt down on the tiled floor, and I had to release him from my grasp. He hadn’t come again, but I swear he’d had a five-minute orgasm or something.
“Are you okay?” I asked tentatively.
“I’m about to pass out,” he whispered hoarsely.
Was that a good thing? I wasn’t sure what to do next.
“I’m fine,” he reassured. “Just went to the moon for awhile. Fuck, Samantha, you are a fucking natural at that.”
Christos was kneeling in front of me and leaned his cheek against my stomach. His arms wrapped around my ass and he pulled me into a strangely intimate embrace, his mouth inches above my womanhood.
Wow. I couldn’t believe it. I’d literally brought this insurmountable mountain of a man to his knees.
Me.
Whoa.
I couldn’t get over how this magical man was teaching me things about myself, things I would never have guessed, as if he knew me better than I knew myself. In many ways, I thought maybe he did. Almost daily he showed me who I could be, if I only gave myself a chance and took the risk to try. I’d had no idea.
I could only begin to imagine who I might become with Christos in my life. With him, the stars were the limit.
I suddenly felt overwhelming emotion pour through my body. I loved Christos so much, I wasn’t sure what I would do without him. A powerful protective urge welled up into my chest, heating my heart, filling my body with a womanly fire. This was my man. Mine.
I would do anything to keep him safe.
Anything.
I was desperately scared life would snatch him from my arms. I squeezed him as tightly as I could, my hands cradling his head against my belly.
“Agápi mou,” I whispered passionately.
“I love you,” Christos said.
Why was I suddenly so terrified?
SAMANTHA
After we cleaned up from our shower, we went downstairs.
Spiridon was sitting in the kitchen, sipping coffee. “Good morning, Samoula!” He smiled from ear to ear. My parents never smiled in the morning.
And I never looked at them ten minutes after having tons of sex. Heck, I don’t think I could be in the same city as my parents for at least ten days after what Christos and I had done upstairs. My face boiled over. Hopefully Spiridon thought it was from the shower. Er, I mean, from taking a shower, alone, like a proper girl. Crap, I needed to run out the front door and drive off before embarrassment caused me to spontaneously combust.
“Hey, Pappoús,” Christos said. He didn’t seem the slightest bit uncomfortable. “How was Walt?” He walked up to his grandfather, leaned over with an arm around the man, and kissed the top of his head.
Wow, I would never kiss my dad or mom like that under any circumstances. Had I woken up in the Twilight Zone? Without giving it a second thought, I wrapped my arms around Spiridon and gave him a huge hug. “Morning!”
He rubbed my back while he said, “Good morning to you too, koritsáki mou!”
My embarrassment disappeared as quickly as it had overtaken me a moment ago. I didn’t feel weird at all. Probably because Spiridon didn’t act weird. He probably didn’t even give what Christos and I were doing a second thought. I could easily get used to this.
My parents, on the other hand, would be prodding for cracks in my defenses, snooping around for whatever inappropriate behavior I had most recently engaged in. I was so done with that kind of treatment.
Christos made us breakfast while Spiridon and I sat at the table.
“Walt was terrific,” Spiridon said. “We had a good talk. Mended some fences.”
“That’s great,” Christos said.
What was the mystery behind the history between Walt Childress and Spiridon Manos? I still had no idea. It didn’t seem like any answer would be forthcoming over breakfast.
Afterward, I drove to my apartment in my VW and told the manager about moving out. He told me I had to give a 30-day notice in writing, and I had to pay the pro-rated amount for the days in March I hadn’t yet paid for. Oh well, at least I was moving out.
As much as I wanted to, I couldn’t quit Grab-n-Dash right away, but I was happy to keep my job at the Eleanor M. Westbrook art museum for the rest of the academic year. It seemed like I got more studying done for Sociology and History at the museum than I did anywhere else anyway, so that was okay. I was all about killing two birds with one low-stress on-campus job.
I left my apartment and drove to campus by myself. For the first time since I’d started at SDU, my drive didn’t feel one bit lonely.
I was totally wrapped up in the warm embrace of Christos and his welcoming grandfather. I had never experienced this sense of pervasive peace growing up. My life had always been tense, nervous, filled with problems and worries and frustrations.
I started to wonder if perhaps all those concerns my parents labored under were nothing more than their own creations. It’s not like they were broke, or had major health problems, or dangerous jobs. They just didn’t seem happy. Like they didn’t know how to be happy.
Was it that simple?
I didn’t really know. But I did know that I was starting to feel a happiness and contentment that was worth it’s weight in gold. No, strike that. At this rate, I think my happiness was verging on priceless. I had discovered the greatest treasure a person could hope to find in life.
Unconditional love from my second family.
I was beaming with a huge smile when I parked on campus at SDU and walked to Oil Painting class.
SAMANTHA
My happiness bubble burst when I walked into the Oil Painting studio in the Visual Arts building.
Kamiko had set up at an easel between two other students. Up until the fiasco with Brandsome at Charboneau Gallery, she had always set up next to me and Romeo. Ever since then, she’d set herself up so that there was no room for me or even Romeo.
I felt terrible about the whole thing. I’d tried to apologize to her about Brandsome via texts, emails, stopping by her dorm room, anything I could think of. But she wasn’t ready to talk. All I could do was give her space.
I set up my paints, brushes and palett
e at a free easel, and saved the space next to me for Romeo. He was running late today. When he finally came in, he set his book bag down next to me and pulled out his supplies.
“Hey, Sam,” he said, somewhat flustered.
“I think this is the first time I’ve ever made it to class before you,” I said in a friendly voice.
“I was up late working on another scene for Playwriting. I had to get it just right,” he smiled. His expression dropped when he saw Kamiko ignoring us on the other side of the room. “I see that Kamiko still looks like a wounded bunny rabbit. Poor thing.”
“Yeah,” I sighed. I had already told Romeo in detail what had happened at Charboneau with Brandon and how he broke Kamiko’s heart. “You told Kamiko I was sorry again, right?”
“Yeah. I’ve told her a hundred times how bad you feel,” Romeo said.
“And you told her that Brandon had totally come on to me? Not the other way around?”
“Yes, Sam,” Romeo reassured compassionately. “I don’t think she’s actually mad at you. More than anything, I think she’s just sad. You know how it is, Kamiko’s so busy with studying, she never gets out, never dates, and that hot bastard Brandsome had to go and send her a bunch of mixed signals on New Year's Eve. She’s probably been making secret wedding plans ever since.”
“Doesn’t she tell you everything?” I asked.
“Usually. I mean, she’s been prattling on about Brandsome non-stop for weeks. But I know Kamiko. I’m starting to think she was holding something back. I guess I didn’t realize how bad she had it for the guy.”
“Oh,” I said.
“Yeah, I’m a little worried about her,” he said. “She’s been secluding herself more and more lately. It’s not good for her.”
“Is there anything we can do?” I asked. “I mean, I know she’s not talking to me, but I want to help somehow.”
“If you’ve got any of that love potion you used on Christos left over, maybe we can trick Brandsome into drinking some,” Romeo joked.
I shook my head and rolled my eyes. “I wish I did,” I smiled forlornly.
“Wait, I know!” Romeo said. “Professor Bittinger is a witch! Maybe she can stir up a fresh batch in her cauldron!”
I smiled. “Sadly, I think if she knew how to brew potions, she would’ve already used one on Hunter.”
“You’re right,” Romeo sighed. “I guess all we can do is give Kamiko time to get over it.”
“Yeah,” I said. I glanced at the clock on the wall. We still had a few minutes until class started. Professor Cogdill still hadn’t arrived. I looked around the room and saw that all the students were chatting or setting up. All had a lightness of spirit and purpose. Except Kamiko.
She sat on a stool, slumped over, totally miserable. She was breaking my heart. I walked over to her.
“Hey, Kamiko,” I said quietly.
She looked up at me with heavy eyes that revealed an equally heavy heart. She didn’t respond.
“I, um, Kamiko? I just wanted to say again I’m really sorry about what happened. It wasn’t my fault. Brandon came onto me, and when you left I told him what a jerk he was for treating you like that.” I sounded nervous, and the proximity of the other students wasn’t helping. At least they were engaged with setting up, or were chatting with the other students nearby. I wished this conversation had been private, but I hadn’t been able to find a better location. I was desperate.
Kamiko stared back at me, her face long. She looked completely miserable. Was I making things worse? Should I leave her alone? I glanced back at Romeo. He shrugged his shoulders sympathetically. He didn’t know what the answer was either.
I squeezed around Kamiko’s easel until I was standing beside her. I put my hand tenderly on her shoulder. “I’m sorry, Kamiko. I really am. I don’t know what else to say. But it makes me sad to see you hurting like this.”
Kamiko had to crane her head to look up at me. The naked heartbreak in her tearing eyes almost broke mine.
“I’m so sorry,” I said. I wanted to hug her. I leaned tentatively toward her.
She shrugged me off and turned back to stare at her feet.
I let my hand slide from her shoulder as I walked back toward my easel. I was ready to cry. I needed to step outside for a minute. When I opened the door to the studio, Professor Cogdill came walking in.
“Thank you, Miss Smith,” he beamed. “You must have X-Ray vision to have seen me coming through a solid door,” he quipped.
I stammered, “Oh, uh, no, I…”
He smiled back. “It’s okay, your secret’s safe with me,” he winked. “Ready to start painting?”
“Yeah,” I muttered. I would have to save my cry over Kamiko’s distress until after class. It made me so sad to see her like this, but there was nothing I could do. Romeo was right. She needed time to heal. I just wanted to help take away her pain somehow. But I couldn’t. I could only offer support which she didn’t necessarily have to take.
Maybe she just hurt so bad because she thought the whole world was against her. I could totally relate.
I knew what it was like to have strict parents like hers. Hers were pushing hard for her to become a doctor as soon as she possibly could. But all you had to do was take one look at all the paintings covering her dorm room to realize that maybe medicine wasn’t the path for her.
Sadly, no matter what I did, I couldn’t change her situation. It was her struggle between herself and her parents. Would she grab hold of her dreams and never let them go, or would she succumb to the demands of her family?
I almost felt guilty for having Christos in my life. He was the one light that had guided me into safe harbor from the tumultuous, miserable life I had lived back in Washington D.C. under both the iron influence of my parents and the rejection of my peers.
For all I knew, Kamiko was wishing that Brandon Charboneau would be her Christos, her savior from a bleary future she didn’t want, her guide out of the prison of her parents’ dictatorial demands. And now Brandon had closed that door for her.
As I returned to my painting easel next to Romeo, I silently thanked my good fortune that I had Christos in my life. I feared that without him, I would be as distraught and lost as Kamiko was right at that moment.
I shivered and pushed my dark thoughts away, determined not to fall prey to my own morbid worries.
Besides, I had my own issues left to deal with. When Oil Painting was over, I would have to go to Sculpting and face Hunter Blakeley. I still hadn’t seen him since the incident with Christos.
SAMANTHA
Romeo had lunch with Kamiko after Oil Painting, just the two of them. He told me was getting worried about her, and wanted to check in with her privately. I understood.
I bought a sandwich at the Student Center convenience store and went to the Central Fountain to eat in solitude.
I sat down on a bench and unwrapped my sandwich. I couldn’t believe how warm it was for February. My heavy winter coats were all packed away in the back of my closet in my apartment. I didn’t think I’d ever need them in San Diego. The thought brought a smile to my face.
While I chewed on a bite of my sandwich, I glanced around and noticed someone carrying a huge bouquet of flowers along one of the walkways that connected to the Central Fountain.
I wondered who the flowers could be for. Maybe they were going to some professor’s office, a gift from a secret admirer, delivered by some singing telegram man? Maybe some graduate student was about to propose marriage to another graduate student who was a T.A, and the guy with the flowers was going to walk into his girlfriend’s section in front of a bunch of undergrads, and get down on one knee? I smiled. The romantic possibilities were endless.
I smiled to myself as the massive bouquet and whoever was carrying them approached the fountain. I felt increasingly nervous as the flowers got closer and closer. By now, I would’ve expected the person holding them to have turned and headed off toward their destination.
But th
e flower man kept coming, until he stopped right at my feet.
Gulp.
I couldn’t see around the bouquet. Who was it?
Christos?
The flower man lowered the bouquet.
Hunter Blakeley.
Oh, great.
I had a moment to thank the fact that Kamiko wasn’t here to witness yet another guy throwing himself at me. Not that Hunter was right for Kamiko. Hunter was right for himself, and that was about it.
“Hey, Sam,” Hunter smiled.
Yes he was handsome. For once, he didn’t have his aviator sunglasses on and his amber eyes seemed to glow like warm embers in the overcast light.
“Hey, Hunter.” Did I sound like I was groaning? I didn’t want to be rude, but I didn’t exactly want to be polite to Hunter, either. Not after how he’d treated Romeo and Christos. Screw it. Maybe I needed to be rude.
“I bought these for you,” Hunter smiled, setting the bouquet down on the bench next to me. “Think of it as a peace offering. For what I said to your friend,” Hunter smiled.
Did he expect me to thank him? After what he’d said and done? I glared at him. “He has a name, you know,” I growled.
Hunter’s smile dimmed slightly.
“You don’t even know his name, do you?” I shook my head. “You’re a jerk, Hunter.”
“Would it help if I said I’m sorry?” he asked.
“Not to me, it wouldn’t. Besides, I can see right through you, Hunter. You’re not here because you care about my friend’s feelings. His name is Romeo, by the way. Maybe you can remember that and apologize to him the next time you see him.”
Hunter scoffed at my suggestion.
“Yeah,” I smirked, “that’s what I thought. You’re just making a play for me, Hunter.”
His mouth opened to protest.
“Zip it,” I barked. “Let me try this one more time. You have met my boyfriend. He is a real person. We are in love. And…I. Am. Not. Interested. Okay?”
“But—”
“Do I need to hire a skywriter to put it up in smoke clouds for all of San Diego to see? ‘Samantha Smith has a boyfriend. She is not going to date Hunter Blakeley. Or go out with him. Ever.’” Did I sound harsh? Maybe I did, because I was mad. I wasn’t going to let Hunter get away with being charming when I knew it was all an act. A Lame Damian sort of act.
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