Steamy Dorm

by Kristine Robinson

  The sparks that'd been building up inside of me were coalescing into a ball of raw heat and power. He knew how to tease that flame. He was the fuel that kept it going, and with the right touch, he knew he could make it grow higher.

  He was rubbing his cock up my thigh, laughing, panting and driving himself further up. My desire turned into desperation, so potent that it became a force of its own, pulsing through me, fueling the fire that was already blazing inside me.

  “Fuck me,” I whispered.

  He lifted his head and bit down on my earlobe. “I can't hear you,” his piercing whisper gave me shivers. I could feel him pressing in, just a little bit farther now.

  “Do it,” I groaned. My hungry body couldn't take the force that moved through me. It was too much, and I was too small and insignificant. He loomed over me and I could feel his desire. I knew he wanted it just as much as I did, but he wasn't going to let that show. No, he wanted to play with me.

  “I can't hear you.” Another whisper, another shiver.

  “Fuck me!” I cried out.

  “No.” His finger moved closer to my hole. He licked one and began moving it over the outer rim. Now he'd done it. I was going to cum. I could already feel the pressure pushing inside me, driving towards the perfect spot just beyond the entrance.

  “Fuck me. Do it now.”

  “No,” he drove his finger in and the convulsion was instant. Nothing could contain it now. I was going to explode. The spasms, like pagan drum beats rolled in, one after the other, an unearthly wave, driven by that one finger, parting the entrance and pushing past.

  Then, when I couldn't take it any longer, and the sweet mix of pain and pleasure was too much, he pulled his finger out and let the tip of his cock rest at the entrance. I pressed against it. “Do it,” I groaned. He dove in so fast I could barely handle it.

  All I could do was lean my head back. “O-o-h God,” I shuddered, but god had nothing to do with it. He was pure demon, slamming me with wave after heavenly wave until my shuddering cries were drowned out by his deep moans, vibrating through me.

  He knew how to move, how to be gentle while still slamming through faster and faster as my body struggled to acclimate to it. There was no getting used to something like that. I just had to let him push through it, taking in every inch as dove deeper.

  I wanted it all, not just some petty push, but a drill, hammering inside me. He seemed to sense my need and increased the tempo. “You like that?” He growled and drove himself in as deep as it could go.

  “Oh,” I shuddered.

  “Yeah,” he dug in. “You like that don't you?”

  “Uh-huh,” I was doing everything I could to stay sane, but it wasn't working. Every thrust was another flame rising up inside me, threatening to overwhelm me. If he didn't stop, my entire body, both inside and out was going to erupt.

  Alan was enjoying himself as much as I was, laughing with a cocky grin and a dark tone. He caught me up and wrapped his arms around my back, with his lips pouring in, pressing behind my ear, my neck, my chest and my lips, all the while driving through me with relentless momentum.

  I could feel him inside me, increasing the speed. As the friction mounted, our voices grew louder and melded together into a symphony of raucous cries and desperate pleas, all leading to the explosion that rippled through me, obliterating flesh and consciousness, until there was nothing left but that sweet wave of blissful emotions that spread out, over my chest, my stomach. It trickled down my fingertips and up my neck.

  Alan's deep, sudden growl signaled a burst of wet fire shooting through me. He kept it up until we both fell over into each others arms.

  I woke up to the smell of sea salt and something dark, like burning herbs. The smell caught me instantly and lured me up. Alan was standing at the stove, wearing nothing but an apron with his tight butt waving back and forth. He was pouring something into a pot slowly. “You hungry?”

  “Dear Lord, yes.” I stood up. “That was amazing.” I walked up behind him and wrapped my arm across his chest with my body pressed against his. “What are you making?”

  “It's Haitian.” I kissed him behind the ear. “Mmm, yeah?”

  “Yeah.” He purred.

  “What's in there?”

  “Crab.” I kissed him again.

  “Yeah?” This time harder.

  “Yeah.”

  “What else?” I dug my teeth into his neck.

  “Taro.”

  “And?” I dug my teeth in a little longer.

  “Oh,” he groaned deeply. I took the chance to reach my hand around front. “Just, try it.” He pulled himself away to grab a plate. “You'll love it.”

  “There's no bugs or anything, is there?” I joked.

  “A few, but only the little ones.” He spooned the dark green mixture onto the side of a bed of rice and poured me a glass of dark beer.

  “Hmm? This is a beer dish?”

  “That doesn't make it any less appetizing.”

  I took a spoonful and let it rest in my mouth as the myriad flavors, both foreign and familiar mixed in a way I couldn't possibly imagine, evoking an intoxicating sensation that drove me to eat more and more until my plate was almost gone. “Oh, dear God.”

  “Mon cher, you haven't tried anything yet.” I could feel him pressed up against me.

  “What is it? I have to know. I need this in my life.” I turned back to him.

  “It's crab callaloo.”

  “I will never be able to re-create such a thing.” I took a drink of my beer. “See there's so much about you I don't know. I don't even know where your country is.”

  “Southwest of here in the Caribbean.”

  “See, stuff like that. I wanna know you.”

  “Yeah?” He had the sweetest way of biting his lower lip when he was excited.

  “Yeah.”

  “Well I don't know anything about you either. It's got to be tit for tat, you know.”

  “Well, tell me more and I'll tell you.”

  “You don't want to know.”

  “I don't wanna be that guy anymore. See, with the way I grew up, we got everything we wanted, but I never saw my parents. My mother was always working and I don't think I've ever met father. There was no love. But you, you know love.”

  “I did have love in my life. That's the only thing I can say. My parents are some of the kindest, most generous people in the world.”

  “How did you grow up? How did you live?”

  “We had a small, concrete home a little bigger than this studio. There was no water and no electricity. We didn't have microwaves. All of our cooking was done on a camping stove my mother inherited from her aunt. So you see, it's not the kind of life you'd be willing to live. It's embarrassing. I never tell anyone.”

  “You should. People should know what they have here. I'm willing to bet that you were better off because of your upbringing. You probably cherish the little things.”

  “They're not little things. They're the only things that have been on my mind since I was a little boy.” He began spooning himself a plate. “My father was caught stealing from the local market when he was younger, because he didn't have enough food to eat. He was never able to leave and go to the United States like he dreamed of doing.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because he was a criminal.”

  “But he had to eat.” I protested.

  “You don't let people off for stealing when they're hungry, not here or in Haiti. I was forced to grow up with nothing, no clothes, no food, just what we could salvage. My mother sold fruit at the market, and my father worked on cars, but there is never enough work there. People are too poor.”

  I nodded my head.

  “I don't feel grateful. I should've been here all along. Instead I was forced to starve and live in a concrete shack for most of my life. It took me seven years to save the money to move here, and the only way I was able to do that was because I survived on nothing that entire time.”

 
“That's terrible.”

  “I think the guy that caught him just wanted a seat on the boat to go north.”

  “Did he take your father's ticket?”

  “No. Not literally. It's like the Titianic.”

  “The Titanic?” I asked.

  “Yes. You know how they put the first class on the lifeboats and chained off the bottom so the lower decks would die. That's my life.” He shrugged.

  “But you just have to work hard. It's not about the man getting you down.”

  “I intend to. It's harder. That's my point. People make it harder for people with nothing like me.”

  “What do you wanna do?” I asked.

  “Mmm,” he swallowed a bite of food and took a quick drink of his beer. “I want a restaurant.”

  “Of course.” I dipped my head back. “This is amazing. I think you'd do well.”

  “You think so?”

  “Yeah. I mean, I could help you.”

  “I don't want charity, Jake. I'm an independent man.”

  “Oh, come on. Charity?”

  He lifted one eyebrow. “Do you take me for a fool?”

  “You mean something to me, Alan. I know you don't believe that, or maybe you think I have a short attention span. I don't know. But I really like you.”

  “You do?”

  “Yes.” I reaffirmed. “Let me take you to my mom's for dinner tomorrow. I wanna prove this to you. I don't want any doubt between us.”

  “Between us? You really want to start something, don't you/? Are you for real?”

  “Yes, and I want you to know that.”

  “Oh, I don't know. I want to try this, but it's a little out of my element.”

  I walked around behind him and wrapped my arms around him. He stiffened up. “Will you come with me, please?” I planted a kiss on his cheek.

  He turned bright red. “OK.”

  Chapter 5

  That night, after we were done eating, Alan carried me to the bed and held me. At first, I thought we were going to have sex. I wasn't horny, but I would've let him. Instead, we lay in each others arms for hours, saying nothing.

  I'd never felt anything like it. It wasn't the same as the explosive burst of pleasure you get from an orgasm. It was different. It was like a warm feeling that built up and never stopped. There was no finale, just the sweet touch of a beautiful man and a soft place to put my head.

  When we woke up the next morning, I took him back to my house to shower and we began the drive. My mother lived in the hills to the north of a city in a white, columned palace with two pools, a tennis court and a six car garage that'd been filled up with every class of car, all in hot pink.

  To get onto the estate, we had to go through two security checkpoints, one for the community and one for her personal compound. Throughout the process, I kept an eye on Alan. I was petrified that at any moment he would ask to take me home.

  He was tense. That was obvious. He was shifting around, looking at everything, but he didn't say anything. Instead, he stared out at the window and let me drive. At one point, I did turn to him to ask if he wanted to go back, but I had my own reasons for doing this. I wanted him to know that I was serious.

  When we got closer to the house, I pulled over.

  “What's wrong?”

  “I just want you to know that I like you.. I don't want you judging me or getting upset with me. My life is different, and my mother is not the loving matriarch you'd hope to find.”

  “Don't worry.” He squeezed my hand and leaned in to kiss me.

  Marla, the head of the house staff, was standing near the entrance when we pulled up with her stout face stretched into an incorrigible grin. “How are you, dear?” She gave me a hug.

  “I'm alright.” She was more of a mother to me than anyone.

  “And who's this?”

  “This is, Alan.”

  Marla shook his hand. “Where are you from, Alan?”

  “Haiti.”

  Marla turned bright red. “Well, that's wonderful.” She turned back away quickly and pulled me aside. “Haiti?”

  “What?” I jerked away and stomped back to where Alan was standing.

  “What was that?” He asked when we started walking up the wraparound driveway towards the main entrance.

  “It's nothing. She just didn't know who you were is all.” We were ushered through the marble foyer into the parlor. Everything was faux antique. We sat down side by side on a stiff-backed, horse hair couch while we waited for my mother to get done with whatever she was doing. The second the maid left the room, I hunted down the bar and poured myself a shot. “You want one?”

  “By the time you're done there won't be anything left.” I turned around to see my mother walking in wearing a pink skirt suit with a newly dyed blond beehive. She was the perfect poster child for the feminine elite.

  “Then I'll keep it all to myself.” I downed my drink and poured myself another. Two shots and I'd have the strength to drown out her voice. Three and I'd have the courage to back talk. Four would start a revolution.

  The woman snatched the bottle out of my hand and handed it to one of the servants. “I don't know what's wrong with you.” She poured herself a double and downed it. Judging by the way she drowsily batted her nose, that wasn't all she'd had.

  “How's vicodin?” I asked as if the pill were a member of our household.

  “What happened to Tyler?” She countered. “Is this your new, uh,” she cleared her throat, “paramour.”

  “Alan, and I think that term signifies a casual relationship, does it not?” Alan got up with his hand outstretched.

  “Infidelity.” She ignored his hand. “Casual's relative. What I might consider casual, you might consider a marriage.”

  I poured a shot from another bottle. “We're not fourteen, mother.”

  She suddenly went rigid and turned her sharp blue eyes on me. “Did I a—

  “Dinner's ready.” Marla must've been waiting outside because she came in at the perfect moment.

  Alan got up to follow Marla. I tried to go after him, but my mother blocked my way.

  “Well, I see you've had your opium treatment today. They haven't moved you up to needles yet, have they?”

  Her slap threw my head to the side. “Now you listen to me, you little shit. You don't have anything between your ears, so I'm going to make this perfectly clear. You are not dating third world run off. If you don't end this tonight, I'm cutting you off.”

  “What am I supposed to do? I don't even have a degree. You want me to live on the streets, simply because you don't like the man I'm with? Are you gonna laugh when they evict me in six weeks, huh? Is that how you wanna run your life? Hurting your children?” My voice was growing louder and louder.

  “Shut up. You shut up right now. It's your decision what you want to do.” Before she left, she looked at me and said, “You should've stayed with Tyler. I can't believe you left him.”

  “I caught him cheating on me.”

  “At least you'd have amounted to something. This man is an animal. I know where he's from, Jake. They don't live like people. They're monkeys.”

  “You've got one word rolling through your head and you can't say it, because everyone knows just how sick it is to even think that word aloud. Racism's not dead. It's just old and chock full of opium.”

  “Do you like your credit cards, Jake?” She motioned for me to follow her to the dining room.

  “Will you just give him a chance? Just one. There are millions of people on that island. Not all of them are animals, mother. He's a good guy.”

  She sighed. “I will make that decision.” When we walked in, Marla was sitting next to Alan, talking. “Ahem,” mother called out.

  “Oh, sorry ma'am.” Marla ran out with a mop bucket in tow.

  “See,” my mother whispered, “birds of a feather.” She was bracing herself against the table, just enough to keep herself balanced. I should've kicked her leg out from under her. Instead, I sat dow
n like I was supposed to and played nice.

  Mother was showing off. The staff came out all in a row and started serving us in the traditional fashion. There was a braised duck, duck truffle gravy, and every side dish imaginable. Alan's mouth fell wide open when they set his plate down. Then, when he took a bite it was like he'd completely lost sight of where he was. “Miss Woodhouse, this is amazing.”

  “Call me Eve.” She had the staff refill her wine while she moved her thousand dollar serving around on the plate. “I imagine you don't have anything like this where you're from.”

  “No. In Haiti the food is much different.”

  “Haiti?” She exclaimed excitedly. “I had no idea.” Her eyes never left mine. “I know that there was an earthquake a few years back. Are we still offering refugee status to Haitians?”

  “No.” He tensed up.

  “Well then you must have your papers in order, I'm sure.”

  “No. He tied a bunch of logs together and rode here on a raft—with the help of Poseidon, of course.”

  “If you'll excuse me.” He started to get up, but I snatched his hand.

  “What are you doing?” He averted his eyes and ran out.

  “I'm going to kill you.” I told my mother as I began to step closer to her. “You're nothing but a lazy drug addicted whore. You've probably had five men in the past week!”

  “You can't sit here in my house and talk to me like that.”

  “I sure can and I will. He scraped and saved for years, surviving on nothing—nothing just to get here. You couldn't even comprehend doing something like that.”

  “I don't have to.”

  “You're no longer a part of my life.”

  She laughed, took a drink of her wine and shook her head. “You are nothing without money. If this is what you want, then leave and don't ever come back here again.”

  I ran out of the dining room, towards the foyer where Marla was pushing around a mop over the marble floor. “Where is he?”

  “Your mother had a car waiting in case anything happened.”

  I ran out into the driveway. It was completely empty, save for my own car which had been taken back up to the entrance by the valet. I wasted no time in grabbing my keys and peeling out of there.