Double Grades

by Kristine Robinson

  Being the pushover that I am, I agreed. Fiery sex sparked my interest and I went along with her plan, no matter how much I didn’t want to.

  The closest male strip club we could find was a sketchy little go-go bar, and the moment we arrived, she went into her own little world. It was like her entire personality changed within the blink of an eye. She immediately ordered drinks and we took our seats around a table where a guy in an American Flag thong was bumping and grinding his body against and around a pole. We watched him for a while, giggling like little girls whenever he made eye contact with us.

  I had to admit I was slightly enjoying this. Rachel actually seemed a little less crazy and more like herself. I watched her drink in the view of the man’s perfect body, and felt a little something like jealousy.

  “You attracted to him?” I finally ask.

  "I mean, he's very attractive," Rachel admits.

  “But are you attracted to him?” I was getting antsy.

  “What are you trying to say?” Rachel gets defensive.

  “I mean, if he asked you, would you go screw him in the bathroom?” I blurt out, sounding a lot bitchier than intended.

  Shit, she was super offended. “Excuse me? You think I’m a slut or something?”

  “Whoa, ladies…” The man up on the table interrupts the argument. “No fighting needed…” He kneels down on the table and starts driving his crotch into the table’s surface.

  Rachel looks at me with a fire in her eyes. “I told you. It turns me on.”

  I take another look at the man and he winks at me. Spontaneously I take Rachel’s head in my hands and kiss her. She kisses back, and we melt into each other. The go-go dancer leans down even further and runs his hands through our hair, thrusting his hips basically into our faces. Rachel and I grab each other even harder, the heat rising.

  The man moans and groans as an erection grows under his thong. I was slightly disgusted but it was kind of hot. Rachel and I’s lips finally separate and we fall back onto our seats, both hot and bothered. The man had a satisfied smile on his face and stood back up, not even ashamed of his obvious boner.

  “Good job, ladies,” He winks at us before he continued dancing.

  The next hour or so was decently fun. We changed tables every once and a while and made out in front of the strippers a few more times.

  But at about midnight, Rachel kept ordering shots for our entire table, and began morphing into the avid partier that I hated. She drank an unbelievable amount of alcohol in the next hour and when I said I wanted to leave, she wouldn’t. If I was a heartless asshole I would’ve just left and let her take care of herself. But she was sloshed and I felt responsible for keeping her safe.

  Around 2am, Rachel had officially become the complete opposite of herself. She was unhealthily drunk and kept on climbing up on the tables and thrusting against the dancers. I was thoroughly embarrassed, and as always, found a spot at a corner booth where I would spend the rest of the night.

  Eventually, around 3:30am, Rachel woke me up and we got into a cab. She starts yelling at me but then I break out in a rage, “I can’t keep doing this! You want to go out and party every single fucking night and I am tired! I feel like your mom, with you getting so drunk everywhere we go. I love the person you truly are. And I know this party girl is not it. Now can we have a night out every once and a while? Of course. But I can’t keep doing this. I don’t want what we do in bed to be the only reason that I deal with you anymore. I want us to be more than just friends with benefits. But I can’t keep dealing with your drunk insults every night. And I wasn’t built for this kind of crazy lifestyle. So if you really think that this is the real you… I guess you should find someone else.” I act confident but really I’m breaking inside. I look away, careful to not let her see any tears.

  She was completely silent for several long moments. She was probably too drunk to process any of that anyway.

  “I’m… sorry…” She says under her breath. My face is still turned away. I won’t break that easy.

  “I don’t know who this person is either… I guess I just… liked forgetting about everything.”

  “I know,” I say, turning around, “But you don’t need to party and get drunk every night to do that.”

  “What can I do to fix this?” She asks desperately.

  I thought about it for a moment. “Let’s go out for dinner. Somewhere nice. Gotta make your last few nights in New York count.”

  Rachel half-smiled. “Okay,” She goes in for a hug. “I’m sorry.”

  I wrap my arms around her as she just kind of falls against me. She reeks of sweat and alcohol but I let her lay on me.

  Back at my apartment, I make Rachel drink a tall glass of water and then lay her down in the bed. She immediately falls asleep and starts snoring. I sit next to her and push the strands of hair off of her gorgeous, sweaty face.

  I couldn’t believe I had broken through with her. I never thought I would be strong enough to do something like that. And she actually listened. And wanted to fix what was wrong. What if this could actually work?

  I laid down and stared at the ceiling, thinking about her and I, until my eyes couldn’t resist sleep any longer.

  ***

  Boulevard Bistro was the perfect date spot. Mood lighting, romantic decor, jazz music, and delicious Italian food for a reasonable price. I decided it was a must-have for Rachel before she left the city.

  “I really am sorry, Kelly. I guess I just got wrapped up in all the excitement. The city is literally hypnotizing, and once you get pulled in to the inner scene, it’s hard to escape the trance. And you made me feel… adventurous again. And I just took it a step too far.”

  “And I’m sorry I can’t be that type of person for you. I just… my life is pretty boring but I think I’m okay with that. What I did with you was like enough excitement to last me years.” We both chuckle.

  We both take a sip of our drinks and nibble on the breadsticks while making small-talk.

  Eventually, Rachel takes my hands and looks me in the eye like she’s about to propose or something.

  “I have something to tell you.”

  “Oh?” My heart was racing.

  “Yeah. I…”

  “Kelly?” I hear someone calling my name from behind. I turn around and see a man walking towards me.

  It’s Tom.

  CHAPTER 6

  Shit, shit, shit.

  With everything that’s been going on over the last few weeks, I forgot to ever get back to him. My stomach sunk and I knew this wouldn’t end well.

  Tom walks up to our table, looking quite dapper in a suit. He must’ve been at a business dinner of some sort.

  “What are you doing here?” Tom asks.

  “Just out with a friend,” I gesture to Rachel.

  Rachel raises her eyebrows, “Just a friend?”

  “I mean…” I suddenly run out of words.

  “What’s going on here?” Tom asks suspiciously. “Also, why have you not answered me yet? Why have you been avoiding me?”

  “Excuse me, who is this?” Rachel butts in.

  “I’m her boyfriend, who just proposed.” Tom shoves in Rachel’s face.

  Rachel looks at me, disgusted. “You have a fiancé?”

  “Wait, who are you?” Tom asks Rachel like she’s being an inconvenience.

  “I’m her girlfriend…”

  “What the hell, Kelly?!” Tom yells.

  “Yeah what is this shit?” Rachel also yells.

  Several people around us give us a cautious glance before turning back to their own business.

  “I was gonna say no, Tom.” Definitely wasn’t the best time for that to come out, but it did anyway.

  Tom takes a step back, obviously hurt. He said nothing else except, “Oh.”

  “I’m so sorry, Tom. You’re a good guy, just not the guy for me.” I admit. I grab the ring out of my back pocket, which is where I’ve kept it ever since he proposed, and hand it
to him. “The right girl is out there for you.”

  “Yeah… okay…” Tom turns around and slowly walks away, his head hung low.

  “So I was practically the other woman?” Rachel speaks up.

  “No… I never really wanted to marry him,” I twiddled my thumbs nervously.

  “But you were still technically with him when we hooked up?”

  I took a moment to think about a good answer, but couldn’t come up with anything that would made me look like a better person than I am.

  “Technically, yes.” Rachel starts to get up but I stop her, “But we were already practically done. I didn’t love him.”

  “Kelly, you still cheated on him. I may be a partier and somewhat of a whore, but sleeping with committed people is where I draw the line.” Rachel stands up and gets ready to leave.

  “Rachel please…” I stand up, begging her not to go.

  "And you know what the worst part is? I was about to tell you that I requested that my boss transfered me so I could stay in New York permanently. But I guess I'll just tell him never mind now." Rachel begins to walk away but stops and turns around once more. "But thank you for helping me find myself again. I won't forget that. Bye, Kelly."

  I watch as Rachel walks away and exits the restaurant. I slump back into my seat, put my head in my hands, and cry. Never had my life went from so fabulous to so sucky in such a short period of time.

  Even though I hadn’t even gotten dinner, I asked for the bill and then went home, curled up in a ball, and sobbed.

  I felt like I was officially the world’s biggest asshole. My life was actually looking up, and I royally fucked it up. I spent the entire weekend in pajamas, eating ice cream, watching sappy romance movies, and balling my eyes out. Rachel was probably already back home at her snazzy job and Tom was most likely on a date with one of the many women who pined over him at work.

  Tom could've had any of those girls. And he chose me. During the entire time we were dating, he never cheated. He stayed faithful even though other women were throwing themselves at him.

  And Rachel. She was ready to uproot her entire life and move here to be with me. If that’s not an act of love, I don’t know what is. Our entire relationship was less than a month, but in that month I learned more about myself than I ever had.

  Carl spent most of the weekend with me, just being there to listen to my pity rants and give his pieces of advice here and there.

  At the end of my 3rd day of depression, I think Carl had had enough.

  "Just call her," Carl suggested.

  “Oh please, I can’t do that.”

  "Yes, you can. Everybody screws up. You didn't give up on her when she went through that party phase. You never know. She might give you a second chance."

  He was probably right. But I couldn’t muster up enough courage to do it. I just accepted the fact that I was going to be miserable, and that it was all my fault.

  ***

  That night, I laid awake, not being able to sleep, same as every other night ever since the big fiasco.

  Suddenly, the doorbell rings. I jolt up and look at the digital clock by my bed. 2:30am. Who the hell was at my door at this time of night. I put on a robe and make my way to the door. New York at night can be kind of sketchy, but I open the door anyway. Right in front of me stands Rachel. Her makeup is destroyed and it looks like she's been sobbing for hours.

  I stand frozen, my mind going in a million different directions.

  “I can’t leave you,” Rachel says desperately.

  My heart overflows with joy and regret and every other emotion known to man. “Rachel, I’m so sorry. You were the only good thing in my life and I lied and I cheated on Tom and I…”

  Rachel steps inside and kisses me.

  “I can’t imagine living without you,” Rachel barely gets the words out without crying.

  “I can’t stop thinking about you, and how I hurt you,” I start crying as well.

  “Forget the past,” Rachel says as she closes the door behind her and carries me into my apartment and lays me on the bed. We both take off our clothes, but this time it’s not with fire or something out of an erotic novel. We rather look at each other with adoration and desire, appreciating each other’s every flaw.

  I missed her body against mine. It felt so right. And as we spent those passionate moments together, we realized that even though everything ahead of us would be new and so unbelievably scary, we wanted to go through it together and needed each other to survive.

  THE END

  Freshman Year

  ~ Bonus Story ~

  A First Time Lesbian Romance

  Katia

  I was anxious about going to varsity, not wanting to leave me parents. The farm life in Kansas dealt with me perfectly, and I really wanted nothing but to stay around the familiar. I had got a scholarship to study at Westwick, though, and so I knew that I had to go. My parents were so proud of me, too, that there was no way that I was not going to go.

  Upon arrival at the university, I met Sam. She was worldly, and clearly from a bigger town than me. I was about to discover a lot more about myself, because of this meeting with my extremely open-minded roommate…

  Sam

  Westwick wasn’t my first choice, but my parents had insisted that I go to college. With my high-school track record, it was the first college to accept me, and so I had to take it. I just hoped that I would find the type of people there that would be conducive to the lifestyle I had started to live.

  I was lesbian. Not really by design but life had made me that way. When I met my roommate, Katia, I really hoped that she was open. I was soon discover that she would be a hard nut to crack, though, but I was determined, and I knew that I would get between her thighs before the semester was over…

  * * *

  Chapter One

  I knew that I would miss everything about Kansas. Growing up with the freedom of a country girl meant that I could go fishing and climb trees, ride horses and lie under a starry sky without a care in the world.

  New Hampshire would be different. College life would be different. I was afraid that I too would be different, somehow changed by all the vices and temptations of Westwick. But, I had received a full scholarship to study American History, and my parents were really very proud of me.

  I had to go.

  “Honey, you’ll be just fine. Who knows, you might even like it. And if you don’t, you’ll be back in six months and we can talk all about it!” My mother was really more like my best friend. She was my best friend. I think I hated leaving her most of all.

  “I know mom,” I said, stuffing the last of my jumpers into my bag. I really packed very lightly. ‘Make for an easier escape,’ I told myself, half in jest, half not.

  I tried to sound as sure as I could, noticing the tears forming in my mother’s big brown eyes. She had probably noticed mine too, but said nothing. Eagerly, more eagerly than I actually was, I stuffed the remainder of my belongings into my bag and tried to appear as excited as I could.

  “Katia, Katia, Katia,” my dad said as he hurricaned into the room. He really was excited. He was also very proud, having said so several times a day since I got my scholarship letter. Pulling me close, he kissed the top of my head, whispering my name a further three times, just for effect. I’m still not sure how I was saddled with such an exotic name, coming from a farming community in Kansas’s back of beyond, but my father was really proud of this name. I suspected he was the originator of it.

  My dad had always had lofty ambitions for me, it seemed.

  “All done,” I said, sliding out of his grip and embracing my mother hard. She had started to cry now.

  “There, there Linda, there’ll be plenty of time for tears in New Hampshire. But we’ve got to get going if we’re going to get our baby settled in before tonight,” he said, kissing my mother on the cheek so that he wiped her tears away with his lips. I loved how affectionate my parents were with one another. And they were to
tally unapologetic about it, too.

  We arrived at Westwick just after four, and thanks to y information pack, we found the dorm rooms easily. I would be sharing with a girl named Samantha Howard. That was all the information I had on her, and I secretly hoped that she too was a farm girl. New Hampshire was beautiful. Westwick College was beautiful. But I was already feeling so far out of my depth that I really needed just one thing to be familiar to me. When Samantha burst into the room, though, I knew immediately that she was anything but rural.

  “Katia? Hello. I’m Sammy. These must be your parents. Don’t worry, I’m going to take the best care of her. Which side of the room do you prefer? Personally, I like the corner furthest from the window. I hate morning light!” Sammy seemed to rattle off in one long continuous sentence so that you weren’t sure if she expected you to respond.

  My parents greeted her politely, and then thought it best to leave me to get settled in. Actually, my dad couldn’t wait to get my mother as far away as possible, the waterworks threatening an encore. I hugged them fiercely outside the building and then watched them leave, get into a cab and drive off. Then, I took a deep breath, and went back inside to deal with my new life.

  Of course I had no conversation for Sammy, who seemed like she had enough chatter for twenty people. Where I was from, people spoke slower, processed, and then responded accordingly. She didn’t seem to care much for real conversation so I just let her speak, nodding and mouthing the occasional yes, until she eventually left me alone.

  After Sammy left I sat on my bed under the window and just cried. I had to. I couldn’t help it. I thought of my home and my friends. I thought of my brothers, and especially my parents. She came back into the room smelling of cigarette smoke and I remembered how much I hated cigarettes. But she was quiet suddenly, not saying a word to me.