Steamy Dorm

by Kristine Robinson

  “For me,” George says, his voice silken, his dark blue eyes bright in interest, “I like being in total control. Knowing the other person is at my mercy. The power is intoxicating. Watching the reactions pleases me. I like to see fear as well, when I suggest pain, only to erase that fear when I make the person come.” He sighs then. “I know I shouldn't like to see the fear, because I'm not aiming to make the other person afraid of me. But there's something... intriguing about it.”

  The fact a psychopath is talking about the joy of watching fear on someone's face should be alarming. But I think I understand what he's trying to say.

  “It sounds more like you just enjoy power, in whatever form you get it. Maybe you'll abuse it a little, but you would never misuse it to the point where no one is happy, I think.”

  “Hmm.” George shrugs. “Perhaps. I think I'll need to work on curbing it a little, though I'm unlikely to make it fully go away.”

  The more we talk and open up about this, the closer I feel to them. I actually find myself intensely liking them as people, and it's so strange. Aren't humans meant to be monogamous?

  When a rapid knocking alerts us to someone standing outside the music room door, we all bolt into action, hastily rearranging things and hoping the room doesn't smell too much like sex, when George finally takes off the jacket from the door and opens it.

  He apologizes to the teacher, and says that he just wanted to give his friends a private session with the violin, and Peter, Dennis and I nod and smile and leave the room, under the angry glare of the teacher, with her severe gray hairbun and wrinkled face, which resembles a prune.

  We laugh to ourselves, exhilarated that we got away.

  We continue our talk after college ends for us in the library, because virtually no one goes here anyway.

  We continue meeting up often after that. Sometimes for sex sessions. Mostly so we can learn about one another.

  I listen to Dennis talk about his games and nod and smile, telling him I'm willing to try more of them out with him if he wants. I like seeing the passion he feels for them. It's sweet. Anyone with that kind of passion deserves to at least have their voice heard.

  I listen to Peter talk about his sports, and the nerve wracking pressure he always feels to perform well and not disappoint his teammates. He puts on a tough front because people are like wolves, always seeking to find out his weakness, and drag him under.

  George, on the other hand, says that he finds music relaxing, and sometimes a good substitute for when he's alone with his thoughts. He's glad to feel as he does, as he sees the way neuropaths are often crippled by their emotions, and relishes in the clear headed thinking he indulges in. He admits he knew something was different about him from an early age.

  “This is going to sound dumb,” I say, “but did you like, torture any animals?”

  “No,” George says. “I was actually kinder to animals than most kids my age. They are simple creatures, far less complex than humans. You treat them nicely and with respect, and they reward you with boundless love. Between having a creature be afraid of me or in love with me, I know which one I'd pick every time.” He doesn't seem offended by the question. He's probably used to being asked it. “I was officially diagnosed when I was about eight, and my mother put me to therapists to help me better understand why I was different and to always consider the consequences of what I do. I bet they're glad how I turned out.”

  “I'm sure,” I say. I think about my parents. How devastated must they be to see all of us here like this, to know that we actively share in deviant sexual activities together. I don't think they'd understand. But I don't like hiding it from them, either.

  “I admit I like this arrangement,” I say to them, leaning over the table to take all of them in, as if they're the most important things in the world for me at that moment. “I don't know if it can work long term. I don't really have a guide book for this kind of thing. But I like you all. I actually want to come over and play games or hang out. Obviously I like the whole sex thing, too.”

  “Me, too,” Dennis says. “I keep expecting myself to erupt in jealously or something, but I just look forward to having us all here together.”

  “Same,” Peter nods. “I try not to think about it too deep, because let's be honest. This is fucking weird.”

  We laugh. It's true.

  “I think we can compliment each other well. We can be a positive influence to one another,” George admits. “And for me as well, something like music, or something like the thrill we get from this is one of the few ways I truly feel alive. Part of the world, and not just an observer. I wouldn't mind keeping this going and seeing how our lives pan out.” He leans back in his chair. “There's simply no point worrying about the future. We might break up. Anna might fall more intensely in love with one of us. Anything can happen. What's important is what we have right now, and that we enjoy it. That's what matters. So as long as we're all okay with this, I'm happy to keep things as they are.”

  His words have a wisdom in them, a truth. I wouldn't say I'm in love with these guys. How can I be in love with people I've fantasized about for so long, and only really started getting to know them now?

  It's extremely likely I will fall in love with one, or all of them. I'm already fond. I'm already excited at the possibility of sharing more intimate moments with them.

  “It's a deal,” I say. “Let's try this out. Let's listen to each other's desires and find ways to act them out. Let's support one another. I like all of you. And I hope you like me too.”

  “We do,” George says. “Though I'd like to hear more about you and your background as well. Have you as a friend, as well as someone to act out my desires with. Is this alright with you?”

  “It's more than alright,” I say, smiling. It's something I've wanted for a long time.

  I stare at each of them, infused with excitement at the possibility of sharing my future with them. It's weird, sure, but I honestly think we can make it work. And I want to give it a try.

  We can compliment one another. We can feed each other's dark desires. Just as long as we're open and honest to one another.

  I make a sucking noise with my teeth and lips.

  Now that little notion is sorted, I need to somehow explain all this to my mother and father, because I certainly won't be able to conceal this forever.

  Or maybe I can just wait a little longer, and then cross that bridge together with my new friends and lovers.

  I'm glad Peter caught me staring outside the music room, even though it made me explode in embarrassment at first – and that they noticed me staring at them. Obviously I need to improve my staring game, so people don't see me openly drooling at them, but it worked out for the best.

  I kiss each of their lips in return, positive at the idea of beginning a new future with them.

  You never know until you try, right?

  Double Education

  ~Bonus Story~

  A Steamy College Menage Erotica

  “I’m all too aware of the tears streaming down my cheeks, and it feels as if my lips will bruise from the force of the kiss that had been forced upon me. I’ve never felt so violated in my life. Jason slackens his grip on the other basketball player, and the two of them approach me hesitantly.

  I look between them, wanting to throw myself into one of their arms but unsure of who to pick. They seem to sense my unease, exchanging a glance. The decision is made for me as they step up on either side of me, forming an small and intimate group hug. I press my face against Ricky’s shoulder, and can feel Jason gently rubbing my back from behind me.

  I choke out sobs, trying to find some small measure of comfort in their embrace. For a moment, I feel as if I can calm down, as if the world is slipping away all around us. Then, realizing what our position will look like to anyone who sees us, I abruptly shove away from them. Tears continue to spill down my cheeks, harder than before this time, and I sputter helplessly, keeping them both at an arm’s distance
…”

  * * *

  CHAPTER ONE

  I watch with as much apathy as I can muster as my father frets behind his office desk. His glasses slide down on his nose, and he wipes a bead of sweat from his forehead. I respond, appropriately in my opinion, by averting my eyes and chewing my my fingernails. It’s a dirty habit, one I detest but one of the few things I’ve been unable to break. I know why he’s called me in here, as it’s the same discussion we have before every home game at my college. I suppose a bit of background is in order.

  My name is Jenny Parker. My father, Greg Parker, is the dean of education at the prestigious Columbia University. People would call me something of a daddy’s girl, I suppose, and it wouldn’t be awfully far from the truth. My father considers his position a very honorable one, and has been priming me for my enrollment in the university for some years. Though it’s been a year since I enrolled full time, and moved onto the dorms on campus, he stills feels it necessary to drag me into his office every so often. You may find yourself wondering why. Well…

  Truth be told, my formative years were… interesting, to say the least. Most teens have a rebellious phase, but mine went beyond the typical punishment baiting. My hair was dyed, my nose pierced, and I had a way of attracting the worst of the worst when it came to bad boys. My dad was surprisingly lenient in the beginning, I suppose he just hoped I would get it out of my system. In a way he was right, but not entirely. Though my hair has returned to it’s natural honey blonde color, and my piercings have been removed (aside from a tasteful earring set), I still have a bit of a penchant for… well, jerks.

  Which brings me to the next topic of conversation, that topic being the biggest jerk on campus: Jason Smith. He just so happens to be the star basketball player as well, but that does little to help his attitude. Much like the boys from my early teenage years, he’s a foul mouthed, tattooed, and downright sleazeball of a guy. I might have found him enchanting when I was younger, but now I’m in college and have something to prove. I won’t let myself be swayed by cocky basketball players, no matter how devastatingly sexy they are. I’m going to get my degree, and do right by the prestigious history of my university.

  It helps that my dad would kill me if I smeared his reputation…

  Which brings you up to speed, mostly. Cue my dad’s angry rambling about stupid sexy basketball players.

  I consider my father through only vaguely interested eyes as he fidgets, cursing the star basketball player with every breath he takes. Perhaps what bothers my father the most is that Jason refuses to conform. If he was your nice, well behaved young man, our dating would be great from a media standpoint. You know, if I wanted to date him. As it stands, he remains something of a forbidden fruit. Or, as my dad would likely refer to him, the forbidden fruitcake. The thought brings a grin to my face, and I smother a giggle as my father turns his angry gaze in my direction.

  “What on earth is so funny, young lady?” He demands, and I keep my amusement internalized for the time being. I simply sit up in the chair across from him, folding my hands carefully in my lap.

  “Nothing, daddy. Just remembered something one of the girls said,” I say casually, though frankly I have little to do with the other women on campus. Daddy dearest doesn’t need to know that however. He seems to accept my lie easily, grabbing his handkerchief and dabbing at the sweat gathered at his brow.

  “You know how serious it is that we not incite any… unseemly scandals.” He mutters, and I roll my eyes good naturedly. It’s somewhat irritating that my father thinks I’m too dim to follow his direction, but I won’t fuel the fire by engaging in an argument with the old timer.

  “Of course not, daddy.” I say, ever the picture of innocence. He smiles fondly at me, and I quirk my lips in a smile that does not quite reach my eyes.

  “Oh, I should know better. You’ve been on your best behavior since enrolling in the university…” He trails off, and though I couldn’t agree more, I simply wave a hand dismissively. His fretting seems to ease off, and I breathe a sigh of relief, taking this as my opportunity to slip away.

  “Bye, dad,” I say simply, and he offers a wave as I slip out the door.

  It was growing nearer and nearer to time for the home game, and I needed to wear something that suitably screamed team spirit. I meandered in the direction of the dorms, looking up as I hear a masculine voice call my name. I look up, narrowing my eyes in annoyance upon seeing Jason some yards away. He waves, playing innocent for a moment, but as I continue to watch him, he crudely grabs his groin. He makes use of his free hand to make plenty of rude gestures, and I decidedly ignore him, turning my back towards him and continuing towards my dorm. I can hear him shouting after me, but I block out his voice, opening my door and slipping into my dorm. I slip my backpack off my shoulders, breathing a sigh of relief to have the majority of the day over with. I have around an hour before the game starts, which is less time than I would like, but it gives me time to find something to wear. I step into my bedroom, and rummage through my closet, thanking my lucky stars that I have one of the few single dorms. Though I had not before considered it, it likely helps to have my father in such a high position.

  I grab a cute outfit in the team colors, taking a moment to freshen up in the bathroom before tugging on the new clothes. I glance towards the clock, cursing how little time I had to make it to the game before it started. I brush my fingers through my hair, pulling it up into a low ponytail before slipping out the door. I rush towards the gymnasium, spotting my dad lingering outside the door, as if waiting for someone. I exhale a sigh, realizing that someone is likely me. I approach him with a carefully schooled expression, and he smiles, grabbing me in a particularly embarrassing hug.

  “I thought we could sit together, for the game.” He beams, and as much as I want to deny him, I know that’s not really an option. Instead, I quirk my lips in a hopefully believable smile.

  “That’d be great, daddy. You don’t often attend these games, do you?” I murmur, allowing him to take me by the arm as we step into the gymnasium. It’s packed to the gills, but we manage to find a place on the bleachers.

  “I thought it would do well for the team to see that they have my support.” He announces with a smile, though I’m more certain he’s here to make sure I’m on my best behavior. We watch as the cheerleaders do a small routine before the team scatters onto the field. I see Jason with one of his teammates, locked in what seems to be heated conversation. They break apart, and Jason looks into the crowd as if searching for someone. His eyes meet my own, and he breaks into a devious smirk. My eyes follow his every move as he takes his place on the ball court. I know he knows I’m watching him, but more than anything, I’m aware that my dad is beside me, and he probably knows too. I swallow a thick lump in my throat, trying to ignore the rippling in his muscles as he reaches up to slap the ball from the air, tipping it towards the home team. He succeeds, and his smile is nothing short of cocky as he rushes across the court to join in on the action.

  The game seems to stretch on for an eternity, and by the time it’s over, the team is covered in sweat. Jason had been shooting me secretive little smiles throughout the game, and as the game ends in our favor, he does something that drives the crowd wild. He pulls his jersey off, thumping his chest and roaring victoriously. The other girls in the crowd scream, and it’s all I can do to ignore the rush of heat flooding to my cheeks among... other places. My father is tense at my side, and rises to his feet, shouting reprimands to the star player. Jason simply smirks, throwing his jersey over his shoulder and blowing me a taunting kiss. It’s an unmistakable action that’s likely noticed by the entire crowd, but I can hardly find it in me to care. My cheeks simply flare up even hotter as I offer my father an apologetic look.

  “That boy is bad news, Jenny.” He rumbles unhappily. I can’t bring myself to disagree. Jason Smith is definitely bad news, but the stirring between my thighs is also unmistakable.

  “I know, daddy.” I ma
nage, watching as the crowd disperses. The team is gathering in the locker room, and before I can summon images of what’s going on in there, I stand from the bleachers to slip away as well. “I’m going back to my dorm. Goodnight.” I tell my dad weakly, and he stares uncertainly at me before reaching out to ruffle my hair.

  “Goodnight, sweetheart.” He murmurs. I slip away from him, paying very little mind to where I’m going. All that matters is getting out of this gymnasium, and as far away from Jason Smith as possible.

  CHAPTER TWO

  As I’m walking away from the gymnasium, I find myself getting rather lost and shoved around in the crowd of people leaving at the same time. I stumble to the side as someone rudely shoulders past me, slamming into something solid and warm.

  “Son of a…” I begin, rising up with the intent to give my assailant a piece of my mind. They’re gone before I can see the guilty party, and my anger is fueled by a rumble of a laugh from whoever I had bumped into. I turn to face them, knowing it’s irrational to be angry, considering I’m the one who hit them. I fail to see what’s so funny about the situation however. When I turn, however, I am met with perhaps the most gorgeous man I have ever lay eyes upon. I recognize him immediately, though I can’t place the name as quickly. He’s the very same man Jason was bickering with before the game, and he’s known through the University as being a sort of rival for the other basketball player.