“I don’t know,” mused Meghan. “I imagine Sacco is teaching a class or something. I don’t see her around Leopold very much.”
“Have you ever stopped into the office?” I asked.
“Not yet,” she said. “I suppose I still need to pay for my spot for the trip as well!”
“Okay,” I said. “I’ll meet you in the caf’ in just a few.”
“Cool!” said Meghan. She grinned and gave me a theatric wave. It made me happy to feel included.
I walked down the stairwell of the dorm and slinked through the narrow hallway. The walls were stucco and beige, like they hadn’t been redone in my lifetime. I ran my fingers along the bumpy stucco as I made my way toward the end of the hall where I knew the office was. As I neared, I saw that the office door was open and I saw the vagueness of a person sitting behind the desk.
“Hello?” I said softly, giving a gentle knock on the wooden door. The person, a young woman, looked up from the desk. At first she was surprised but then her visage melted into friendliness. She didn’t look much older than me. Her long hair, framing her face, was very dark brown, almost black, her face was pale with a light smattering of freckles near her eyes though she certainly wasn’t as freckled as me, and her eyes were a murky blue.
“Come in,” she said, beckoning me with her hand. She pushed her keyboard away from her, moved some paperwork around, and generally tidied up her desk to make me feel welcome. “Have a seat,” she said.
“My name’s Natasha Blake,” I said, moving into the small office and lowering myself in the seat in front of the desk. “I’m a freshman.”
“I’m Hosannah,” she said with a bright smile. “I’m — uh — a junior!”
Hosannah. I meditated on her name for a moment. It was so beautiful and it fit her perfectly. I could already tell that her personality was luminous, her eyes and lips telling that story. There was something special about Hosannah and I was eager to find out more.
“I like your name,” I blurted out and then felt embarrassed. I felt my face redden and I looked down. Hosannah just laughed.
“You can thank my grandmother,” she said. “Or, rather, my great-grandmother who named my grandmother.”
“It’s lovely,” I remarked.
“Thanks Natasha,” she said. “So what can I do for you?”
“Do you work for ALOHA?” I asked, looking around the office. It wasn’t much of an office really. There were a couple of small windows near the ceiling, as we were in a basement after all. Two wicker chairs hung off in the corner opposite Hosannah’s desk. There was a framed poster that outlined all the degree paths in the Arts & Letters department on one wall, and a poster advertising an ALOHA end of year party from a few years prior, also framed, on another. An overstuffed bookshelf sat behind Hosannah.
“Yep,” said Hosannah. “I’ve been in ALOHA since I was a freshman. But I work for the office part time and I’m also Anna Sacco’s assistant.”
“Wow,” I said. “That’s pretty cool. I didn’t know that was a thing.”
“It’s a thing,” said Hosannah with a knowing grin. I suddenly felt quite anxious in my seat. There was a weird quality to Hosannah that I just couldn’t place. She made me feel excited.
“How come I haven’t seen you at the ALOHA weekly class?” I asked. Every Monday at 8AM, the ALOHA freshmen met for an hour to discuss the program, to listen to various scheduled speakers, and to work on group projects. I’d only been at college for a couple weeks, but with Hosannah working for the program I figured I would have seen her around by now.
“Dude,” said Hosannah, smiling, leveling with me. “I did my time. Monday at 8AM? Once you’re a junior — hell, once you’re a sophomore — you learn to not take any classes before 10:20.” She laughed, which inspired me to laugh softly with her.
“I mean, you’re the ALOHA assistant though,” I said. “You don’t have to go?”
“No,” she said frankly. “They know I did my time as well.”
“I see,” I said quietly.
“Not to keep beating the same drum…” said Hosannah trailing off and widening her eyes with a hint of sarcasm.
“Oh!” I said. “Yeah, I’m sorry, I’m here to pay my dues for the Shakespeare trip.”
“Terrific,” said Hosannah, pulling the keyboard back out. She looked into the computer monitor and clicked around a bit with the mouse. “So it’s $180 for the tickets and the hotel. Do you know which shows you want to see?”
“I have my slip right here,” I said, reaching down into my jeans and pulling out a folded piece of paper. Between the paper was also my check for the cost. I slid them together across the desk toward Hosannah.
“Thanks,” she said, looking down at the slip on which I marked which plays I wanted to see. “King Lear and West Side Story,” said Hosannah, raising her eyes to me and offering up a glint of joy. “That’s what I’m seeing, too.” In Stratford for the Shakespeare festival, between a handful of theaters, they not only did actual Shakespeare shows but also various musicals and other productions. ALOHA advised us to see one of the Shakespeare plays, which were always high quality, as well as something lighter because those shows were always fun.
“Really?” I said. “I love both plays. I’m excited.”
“Likewise, Natasha,” said Hosannah, typing my information into a spreadsheet on her computer. She affixed my slip and check with a paperclip and slid them into her desk drawer. “Have you ever been to Stratford before?”
“No,” I said.
“It’s awesome,” said Hosannah. “We’re going during the Dragon Boat Festival, which is super cool, and there’s this really neat toy store there. Like, even if you don’t care about toys, it’s just a really fun experience.”
“Do all the juniors like you go?” I asked.
“Nah,” said Hosannah. “It’s usually mostly freshmen. But I’ve gone the last two years with the program. I love theater and Shakespeare. I’m an English major.”
“I’m an English major, too,” I beamed. I was thrilled that I was connecting with Hosannah though I still couldn’t tell what she thought of me yet.
“We have a lot in common,” smiled Hosannah.
“Do we?” I said, letting my excitement show. Hosannah let out an amused giggle.
“What English class are you in right now?” she asked with interest.
“I’m in 201H,” I said.
“Honors,” she said, putting on an impressed face. “Is that taught by McGregor?”
“Yeah,” I said. “I’m enjoying it so far.”
“I was in that very same class,” said Hosannah.
“Wow,” I said. “That’s really cool. If I have questions, can I ask you about them?”
“Totally,” she said, her smile warm and inviting. I could tell she was a good person.
“Maybe we could hang out in Stratford, too,” I said, not sure if I was overstepping my bounds but too excited about meeting Hosannah that I couldn’t help myself.
“Maybe,” she said, grinning with a hint of mystery.
“Oh, that reminds me,” I said. “I had another question about the trip.”
“Shoot,” she said.
“What’s the hotel situation like?” I said. “I mean, who do we share rooms with?”
“The rooms we get are all two full beds,” she said. “You can share a room with whomever you like, though not with the opposite sex,” said Hosannah. “I mean, we’re all technically adults here but some of the parents might flip if we allowed coed sleeping arrangements.” She rolled her eyes.
“So just, like, my roommate?” I asked.
“Yeah,” said Hosannah. “Most people just share with their current roommate.”
“All right,” I said.
“Is there anything else I can help you with?” asked Hosannah. Her face revealed a charming glow, like she was there to serve me, like I wasn’t an annoying freshman asking silly questions.
“No,” I said, pushing my chair ba
ck and beginning to stand.
“It’s was really great meeting you, Natasha,” she said, sticking out her head toward me. I took it in my own and we shook.
“It was nice meeting you, too,” I said.
“I’m in room 326 upstairs if you want to stop by sometime,” she said. “I don’t hang out in the lobby much anymore.”
“Is that just a freshmen thing?” I asked sheepishly.
“Yeah, kinda,” said Hosannah, grinning.
“Room 326,” I reiterated. “Thanks Hosannah. I’ll talk to you soon!”
“Bye Natasha,” she said with a single wave.
I smiled at her and turned from her desk, walking out of the ALOHA office and trying to steady my frantically beating heart. I was anxious and excited, ecstatic to have met Hosannah and the possibility of making a friend that seemed so much like me.
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DORMITORY DEAREST
“OKAY,” SHE said, like she was preparing for some task. “Get up here.” She motioned to my legs, indicating I should sit crosslegged like her on the couch. I followed her instructions and the two of us positioned ourselves to face each other.
“All right,” I said, breathing deeply, feeling my nerves buzz. I was preparing myself for anything, which was a difficult task for me.
“Look at me,” said Hosannah tenderly. Our gazes met and I tried to follow along as her blue eyes shifted ever so slightly back and forth.
“Okay,” I said in a subtle murmur.
Without saying another word, Hosannah slowly leaned her face in closer to me, causing my heart rate to speed and my arms to shake just slightly. As she moved toward me, I watched as her eyes closed and I followed her lead, closing my own eyes. Before I could even allow my brain to process much more information, I felt Hosannah’s lips touch mine, her plastic glasses bump lightly against my nose, instigating a delicate and gentle kiss. She placed her palm on my leg and leaned into me, releasing a low sigh, her lips wetly smacking against mine in an amorous collision. Although I had actually kissed someone else before, a boy, when I was younger, this kiss with Hosannah, sitting there on my dorm room couch, felt like my very first real kiss. It felt passionate and right.
I moaned just so as I quickly learned from Hosannah, tilting my head to one side just as she did, focusing on feeling her lips coalesce with my own. Her hand felt heavy and pressured on my leg, in a comforting way, and although my anxiety was running wild it all felt like some necessary release, some detonation of pent up doubt. As I kissed Hosannah, I could feel pleasure and happiness welling up in my heart.
Just as quickly as it had happened, the kiss came to an end. Hosannah slowly moved her head back and our eyes opened together. I longed for more. I didn’t want it to end. I wanted to taste her lips forever. I wanted to feel that closeness and intimacy again and again, a never-ending cascade of sensual pleasure and affinity.
“How did that feel?” asked Hosannah softly, her eyes dancing with spirit as she searched in me for a hint of what was going on in my head.
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CRAZY FOR A GEEK GIRL: A NOVELLA
WE COLLIDED into one another once again, warm skin melting together, arms wrapping around, lips meeting. I was overjoyed by this arousing cupidity, letting my hands do the talking for me as I explored along Henry’s torso, her chest and pierced nipples, and even moving a hand between her legs to grope at her womanhood through the attenuate material of her panties. I laid half on top of her, half to her side, the two of us lustily searching each other with nimble fingers, our lips hotly and moistly pushing together.
I felt Henry’s hand move down my backside, graze over the thin waistband of my panties, and plug a single finger into the string of my thong. She moved her finger downward, causing the string to lift out from my crack, and she just simply moved her finger slowly up and down along the stretchiness of the string as we fervently kissed.
“I’m crazy about you,” I sighed between kisses, instantly feeling self-conscious by my impulsive pillow talk. But Henry just giggled and cooed, rubbing her body into mine, our chests pushed together, our joint arousal growing.
“Hey Netty,” she murmured, removing her finger from my thong string and gently placing her hands on my sides. “I’ve got a secret for you.”
“Yeah?” I said, leaning down and kissing her neck tenderly.
“I’m really good at going down here,” she said, on the word “here” her fingers slithered between my legs and gave me a light pinch through the fabric of my panties. “Will you let me?”
“I would love that,” I said, pulling away from her and rolling over onto my back. Henry eagerly leapt up from her laying position, sitting next to me on her knees, her hands making their way to the elastic band of my thong.
“Let me take these off,” she said, taking hold of my panties and beginning to slip them off my hips. Henry slowly pulled the small article of clothing down my thighs and then off my feet, giving them an absentminded toss as she returned her attention to my body.
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MY WRITING PROFESSOR: A NOVELLA
BEFORE I knew it, I had set my phone down on the bed and I was laying back into my pillows, happily beaming, eyes closed, my hand tenderly massaging myself through the thin tensile fabric of my pale blue panties. I could feel my own subtle dampness. It had been a little while since I’d gotten intimately involved with someone. In fact, I hadn’t had a girlfriend since before I moved to Chicago. There was that little one off with this girl Kristen, who I’d met through Erica, but that didn’t really work out and it wasn’t too inspiring anyway.
But stuff with Harriet, it thrilled me. And I was taking that thrill out on the sex-starved, achy little blossom between my thighs.
As I kneaded my fingers into myself, my impending wetness lightly soaking through the front of my panties, I thought about what life could be like with Harriet. I pictured her beautiful smile, those piercing blue eyes, her long blonde rivulets of hair twisting and turning down to her shoulders. And I thought of being in her writer scene. I don’t want to make it seem like I was simply interested in her for her connections, that was more something that Minju portrayed. But I can admit that it would be a definite plus. It’s just part of the total package.
“Mmm,” I happily moaned as I pushed two fingers together up and down my slit, petting myself through the stretchy material, feeling my midsection growing hotter. I squirmed a little bit there in my sheets, tossing my head from one side to the other, wriggling in my bed as I lazily pleasured myself. I had gotten good at it. Practice makes perfect.
It wasn’t much longer before I was eager to go further. Taking hold of the waistband of my panties, I slid them down my legs and kicked them off my feet, then returning my fingers to my pussy to do a bit more petting. My fingers easily slipped between my lips, rubbing myself back and forth, feeling a little erotic spark each time my wet fingertips hit my clit. After a few of those enticing sparks, I decided to focus my attention on my clit, fingering it around in smooth, soft circles, resting my palm on my trimmed up bush.
Harriet was foremost on my mind as I masturbated, and I dreamt up all the scenarios I could to make me feel closer to her. I imagined being in class, having her talk about my story, a story that — in my dream — she had already read and edited, remarking to the class how thoughtful and true it was, how refreshing and exciting. We would then wait for the rest of the students to leave once class ended, we’d poke at each other lovingly, we’d kiss and giggle, and then we’d slip out of the classroom hand-in-hand to run off to have fun, just the two of us.
My fingers, glistening with my own wetness, continued to push through my lips, parting them, moving back and forth. Every so often I would slip my fingers inside of myself, giving myself a few firm thrusts, a couple solid tugs outward to apply pressure, before removing them with that gentle, subtle sound of wet flesh and suction, and return
ing them to my clit to redouble my stimulation.
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MY FRIEND THE BRIDE: A NOVELLA
“EMMA,” I said softly as she crept toward me. The smile she wore was happy, lusty, intoxicated. “What are you doing?” She looked so beautiful in her sleepwear, little pokey nipples showing through the thin fabric of her tank top, athletic and smooth stems of legs from the floor up to her striped cotton shorts.
“Just one more time,” said Emma. “Before I’m married.”
My heart rate skyrocketed and I felt the coolness of sweat on the small of my back. I knew very well what Emma was suggesting and in that moment I was so incredibly torn. Although I wanted dearly to touch her, to kiss her, to make love to her, I didn’t want to be complicit in her cheating. As my mind dwelled on Emma’s suggestion, she closed in on me and slid her hands around my waist.
“What about Seth?” I murmured.
“He doesn’t have to know,” said Emma simply, as if that was all it took.
“Emma, I think you’re drunk,” I said. Emma pulled herself close into my body, gently grinding on me as we embraced. She was warm and inviting, her body thin but firm. I let my hands move around her backside and rest loosely on top of her butt.
“A little,” she said. “But I’m too good at saying ‘no’ when totally sober. I’m much more inhibited and good. Really, I just want to say ‘yes’ and stop worrying about it for a little while.”
And with that, Emma sweetly pressed her lips to my neck, kissing me, nuzzling her face against my skin, holding to me tightly. I couldn’t help but release a soft moan.
“Why won’t you just admit that you’re a lesbian?” I said, my fingers sneaking into the back of her tank top and tracing over her flesh.
“I’m not,” she said. “I just like you.”
“You’re a lesbian,” I said. And with that, Emma ardently pressed her lips against mine, partly to shut me up but mostly to take our intimacy there in the cottage bedroom to the next level. I couldn’t stop myself, having held a romantic candle for my friend for a very long time, and I eagerly returned her kiss, the two of us standing there, arms wrapped around one another, tenderly kissing amid sounds of lusty wet lip smacks and gentle moans.
The MILFs of Muffy Lane: A Lesbian Erotica Short Story Page 3