Bared to Him

by Sylvia Day

  Bared to Him

  By Sylvia Day

  ©2015

  Chapter One

  Samantha slid between her soft white sheets, half awake. Her pink boyshorts brushed against her mocha-cream colored thighs. Sunlight from the dawning sun filtered through the blinds of her dorm room window, covering her skin and the sheets in zebra-striped light and shadow.

  She raised her head to eye the alarm clock on her study desk more closely. It was 8 a.m., and class was at nine. She looked over at her roommate’s bed. It was empty. Charlene had a 7 a.m. class she never missed. Samantha smiled, she was nearly as bad as John. She didn’t mind too much, though. Having the room to herself was a rare opportunity for solitude in the dorms.

  The warmth of the light from the window and the feel of the fabric against her skin made her feel a sleepy kind of comfortable. The friction of the gentle cloth rubbing between her legs as she shifted position created a growing pressure in her groin. Her breasts tingled, and her heart beat rapidly between her contented breaths.

  Slowly, she rolled onto her back, softly cupping her left tit as her right hand slid down her flat, toned belly – covering the slightest arching pout before dipping into the blue laced boyshorts she loved so much. Her breath quickened as her hands continued to move along her contours, feeling the blonde patch of bristles just above her pussy.

  She sighed.

  Slowly, careful not to touch her groin, she moved a finger between the left side of her vulva and her leg, caressing gently. She couldn’t take anymore!

  Samantha pulled down her underwear, tossing them on the ground. She pulled the white linen sheets over her. Sometimes she liked the exposure to cool air while she touched herself, but the sunshine had given her a desire for warmth.

  Slowly, she rubbed her outer lips as she felt them engorge.

  Knock. Knock.

  “Hey, you there?” Said a male voice from the other side of the door. She huffed, frustrated. Good timing, John Husky.

  “Hold on,” she said, tossing the sheets aside and grabbing her underpants.

  “What was that?” asked John from outside the door.

  “I said hold on!”

  “Oh…Okay.”

  Samantha strode over to her small wooden drawer, standard issue in all of the dorm rooms. She reached into her pants drawer and pulled out a pair of skinny jeans – also fairly standard in the girls’ dorms, but sold separately. She grabbed a v-neck shirt from Charlene’s drawer. Charlene wouldn’t mind….probably.

  Samantha paused as she moved to open the door. An idea occurred to her. She could get revenge for the interruption of her “session” and have a little fun, too. A sly smile slowly crossed her lips. She unbuttoned and unzipped her pants, letting her pink underwear reveal itself in a ‘V’. She pulled the v-neck over her head, tossing it onto her bed. She still wasn’t wearing a bra, and her perky breasts stood at attention. Atta girls.

  “Samantha? Can I come in?”

  “Of course,” said Samantha, in an innocent voice. She opened the door wide, leaning against it nonchalantly as she did so.

  “Come on in, study buddy.”

  “Oh my god!” John said, averting his eyes. But he came in anyway. John was a cute, nerdy white dude with round spectacles, a button up top under a sweater vest, and khaki pants. He was handsome enough, Samantha supposed, but his prim, proper, shy demeanor was turn-off a lot of people, so he was always single.

  “Nice rack,” said another voice from the hall.

  Samantha snapped the door in front of her, covering her body but leaving a sliver to identify her “admirer”.

  It was Brandon Petersen, a junior at the college with a reputation for being a lady’s man. Brandon and Samantha’s eyes met, and it took her a while to decipher how she felt about the comment. He stared at her plainly with his green eyes, his smile dripping with lasciviousness. The tone in his voice had been mocking, but earnest.

  “Enjoy. Because that’s the last you’re seeing it.“ She slammed the door closed. After a thought, she opened the door a sliver again.

  “Perv!” And closed the door, again. She twirled toward John.

  “My tits ‘1’, Brandon ‘0’,” she said, raising her hand to get a high-five from him.

  “Put a shirt on, for chrissakes,” said John. He was averting her head and covering her eyes. Under his hand, Samantha couldn’t make out John’ expression. She could tell, however, that John was sporting his trademark blush. Samantha suppressed a giggle. As annoying as it sometimes was, John was the only reason she’d stayed on track with her studies through her first year of college. Samantha was smart, but she needed a grounding influence in her life. John was grounded alright, but so grounded he was forever in a hole, hidden. John had made most of his friends through Samantha, and Samantha had made much better grades because of John. It was a symbiotic relationship.

  “I’m sorry John, but you really should knock,” said Samantha, finally unable to suppress her laugh.

  “I did knock!” Said John, still blushing, but lowering his hand as he saw Samantha put her shirt on.

  Maybe he lowered his hand a little early there, thought Samantha as the white v-neck slipped back over her head. She’d had her suspicions about John’s sexuality, which was why she hadn’t minded baring her breasts to him, but other than light teasing hadn’t really confronted him on the issue. One of the reasons their friendship worked was because they respected each other’s space. Mostly.

  John tossed his backpack onto Samantha’s bed, neatly sitting next to it and smoothing out his sweater. Samantha sat on Charlene’s bed, leaning back onto her elbows and watching John bemusedly. Reaching into the bag, John pulled out a thick textbook and a red spiral notebook. He pushed his glasses up his nose, and began flipping through the textbook.

  “Today, I figured we’d do some Chemistry II work,” he said, continuing to flip through the textbook. He didn’t seem to be referring to the table of contents. Samantha grinned and shook her head sardonically. She wouldn’t put it past John to have the chapter page numbers memorized.

  “First, let’s take a few minutes to review the basics…” John opened a small pocket on the back of her bag and pulled out a stack of flash cards held together by a rubber band.

  It might have been the unexpected level of pleasure she’d gotten from making John blush. Or, it could have been the fact that she’d been cut off before being able to finish her “quality time” with herself. Possibly, it was just that John was looking cuter than usual that day. Either way, Samantha felt a strange compulsion bubble up, inside her. One that hadn’t bubbled up before during the course of their friendship. She wanted to push her earlier prank further.

  She raised herself slowly from the bed as John continued to separate the nomenclature cards from the chemistry deck. Samantha walked over to John, sauntering with her hand on her hip and a pencil she’d grabbed from the nightstand in her mouth. John stopped sorting and looked up with an impatient expression.

  “Hey there, good-lookin’,” said Samantha in her breathiest voice, doing her best impression of a naughty librarian.

  “Samantha, what are you doing?” asked John, but he couldn’t hide his wandering eyes - or the burgeoning blush that was beginning to form on his face. Samantha smiled and wondered if he was able to stand up… This was just too easy, and too much fun.

  Samantha rushed John, and John fell back onto the bed as Samantha laid on all fours above him. Samantha looked at John, staring intensely at him with barely a blink. Their smiles faded as the moment became serious. John’s face was bright red, and his chest was rising and falling - as if trying to get more air. Had he been working out? Samantha let her eyes trace down to John’s chest. She unbuttoned the top button of his shirt, taking a peek
at his chest. She knew John wasn’t scrawny, but she hadn’t realized he’d developed this much since freshman year. She let her eyes retrace their steps, up John’s exposed neck and onto his face. John’ short, brown hair was in disarray, sticking slightly to the small beads of sweat forming on his forehead. His lips were parted slightly. His eyes seemed to be slowly traversing Samantha’s face as in a trance, lingering on her lips often and dipping down to her breasts periodically.

  “You’re beautiful,” John said, realizing suddenly that he’d said it aloud. His breath quickened. Before he could think, he had moved in for a kiss. Their lips met, and at their contact there was a tiny explosion. Behind her closed eyelids, Samantha could see firecrackers going off.

  They made out gently, the slight smacking of their lips after each kiss marking time. A soft moan escaped from John, reverberating through them both like a hum. Samantha felt that same heat from earlier build. She increased the intensity of their kissing, pushing in and letting her tongue flicker out over John’ lips. Samantha began to respond in kind, when there was a knock at the door.

  They parted lips in surprise at the sound. Samantha looked over at the door, tempted to let them knock. She got the feeling the moment was lost though, and decided to answer it.

  “Hold on a sec,” she said laughing and blushing now, herself. John smiled.

  “Okay,” she said, softly.

  Samantha hopped off of the bed and over to the dorm room door, cracking it open. In the hall there was no one, but she heard a similar knock a few doors down.

  Peeking her head out, she saw an Indian kid putting some sort of flyer on her next door neighbor’s knob. Looking down at her own, she saw a copy of the door hanger flyer. There was a picture of Brandon with a beer in his hand, smiling brightly as he looked toward the camera. A blonde was next to him, laughing as she touched his arm. In the background was the Indian guy. He was talking to a pale-skinned freshman in glasses. Underneath the photo read: “Brandon Petersen’s big 2-0!” Below that in smaller lettering: “March 5, @ The Cabin – Map on Back”. Samantha thought about the current date. It was the third. On the back was a map and a phone number for details.

  Samantha looked up to see John gathering his things.

  “I…have to go,” he said, putting his glasses back on and brushing his hair back. He turned in the doorway, stopping for a moment to study Samantha. Hugging his chemistry book to his chest he moved to say something, but stopped. Instead, he looked at Samantha with a quiet intensity, and smiled. She smiled back, wanting him to stay. Instead, he left.

  Samantha was standing with the flyer in her hand, transfixed on the spot where John had been moments earlier. She felt slightly dazed. What just happened? Should she have given him a kiss on his way out? Had he been waiting on one? Then, Samantha decided to handle it the way she handled any problem that wasn’t dire: she shrugged her shoulders and laughed. Closing the door behind her, she left the dorm to get some fresh air. It was time for lunch, anyway.

  Chapter Two

  Later that day, after a test and a meeting with friends at a local café, Samantha returned home exhausted. She plopped down on her dorm room bed, savoring the feel of the springy mattress and lying still for a few moments.

  After a while, she turned on her desk lamp and opened her laptop to browse her various social network accounts, and watching what Charlene referred to as “brain garbage” on YouTube. Samantha scoffed. “Brain garbage” was pretty much anything on YouTube according to Charlene.

  After a while she closed her laptop, yawning. She changed into her night clothes and plopped back into bed. Her hands went to work for the second time that day, and she closed her eyes as she rubbed her stomach and caressed her breasts. Reaching down into her pajama bottoms, she slid her hand straight down to her groin, stroking lightly. She stopped, thinking of John for a moment. No. With John it was too confusing right now, too personal. A grin crossed her face as the large and chiseled form of Brandon Petersen came into focus in her mind’s eye.

  This time, she went undisturbed.

  John looked at his vague, translucent reflection in the window of the library. He and Samantha hadn’t talked since their incident at the dorm a few days ago, and it was bothering him more and more. Since they had first met during freshman year, they’d never had a situation that they hadn’t resolved in a day or two. Samantha closed her Calculus III book and reached into her backpack, pulling out her doodle book. She remembered Samantha teasing her about it, once:

  “God John, you doodle in a separate notebook? You are the epitome of the paradox that is regimented fun.”

  John chuckled. Samantha was funny. And smart. And exciting. He sighed. And gorgeous. Sure, John had had many crushes on girls, but he had only been sexual with one once. He’d been close friends growing up with the daughter of the next door neighbor, a blonde-haired girl named Alice, and they’d been each other’s first. It had been amazing, but his days at an all-boys religious school had made girls a bit of a mystery. And a terror. Something about the intimacy in that relationship though, and something in his friendship with Samantha, opened him up in a way he had trouble doing when meeting most girls. When a woman was around, he often felt as though he was a deer in the headlights. Especially if it was a girl he was crushing on.

  Inside of his doodle book, he took out the door hanger invite delineating the doodled pages from the fresh ones. He eyed the smiling photo of Brandon Petersen. He didn’t resent guys like that. He just didn’t get their appeal…

  Taking his pencil, he began to doodle and let his mind wander. His parents were coming to visit in a few weeks, and he dreaded having to play the good little boy that they had brought up in the suburbs. However, he doubted that they would appreciate or support the fact that they were paying for his development into ideologies that were the complete opposite of the conservative Catholic ones that they had taught him as a child. He was seriously beginning to contemplate pre-marital sex, for one…

  Indeed, originally they had scoffed at the idea of a liberal arts education with its principles of diversity and free thought. He had been allured himself originally by the beautiful campus and the friendly atmosphere. The idea that it was the opposite of what his parents wanted was merely a perk – one that fit in with his burgeoning rebellious, aggressive personality.

  Since his arrival, he’d made friends with all sorts of people with different backgrounds and philosophies. If he were completely honest, he’d spent the first few months of freshmen year avoiding many of those people. Some of them still weirded him out. Few he had met, however, were so different from him than Samantha. Yet, they got along almost instantly. For one, Samantha sympathized instantly with John’s parental situation. Samantha and John were in the same mixed-gender dorm Freshman year (another perk of a liberal arts education), and from his open door Samantha had heard his parents long list of embarrassing advice.

  “Stay focused. Don’t go to parties, we’re not paying for you to party,” went her father.

  “Stay away from girls. They only want one thing. No sex, but if you do, wear protection,” said her mother.

  “Go to church.”

  “Wear clean underwear.”

  “And remember. Study, study, study.”

  When it was finally over, and John was left to recover as best she could, Samantha had sauntered easily over to her open door.

  “Um. Wear clean underwear?” She had said, her eyebrows raised and her lips smiling.

  “I assure you, I change my underwear,” he said.

  “Good. If I smell anything funny across the hall, you’re hearing about it.”

  “Ugh,” John covered her face in agony. He had prayed that this girl in her doorway wouldn’t spread start spreading rumors about him. And though Samantha teased, she never did say a word to anyone.

  “See ya later across-the-hall neighbor. I look forward to hanging out. With parents like that, you’ve got to be a boat load of fun,” and she left as easily as she
had come.

  That was that. Afterward, Samantha would come to her door while John was studying (as he always was) and ask to join. Soon they were hanging out regularly.

  John had only met Samantha’s parents briefly. It’s was when they came to check on her freshmen year mid-fall. They seemed like lay back hippies compared to John’ parents. Samantha had traveled for much of her early life, before her parents had decided to settle down in California. Her father was a consultant of some kind, and her mother ran an online business. They were open-minded, intellectual people. Sometimes a little too open-minded, John sometimes thought. That was why, he felt, Samantha craved the structure and boundaries that John often exemplified.

  He looked down at himself. John had decided to wear a white t-shirt and jeans. He was beginning to like dressing a little more informally now and then, but wasn’t comfortable enough yet to switch his wardrobe out entirely. He was in shape, and he was sure to work out, regularly. Mostly, it was to make sure he was in top studying condition. Healthy body, healthy mind and all that. He’d found, over the years, that a well-cut body deterred bullies. Of course, he supposed, the fact that he considered a white shirt and jeans too informal for a college campus was a little ridiculous. “Maybe junior year I’ll finally be ready to throw out those sweater vests,” he thought.

  An alarm went off on his phone. It was time to grab lunch and head to his R.A. meeting. He picked up his textbook and notebook and put them in his bag, picking up the door hanger invite last. This was probably going to be the biggest party of the year and, while that was not a selling point for John per se, it meant that there was no way Samantha would miss it. As a bonus, there would be a ton of other attractive girls there too. And they would all be drinking. He looked up and around the library, as if someone could catch his thought. Anything was possible. His gut was telling him this wouldn’t be a party he would want to miss.

  John was beginning to trust his gut more and more, lately.