Played

by Natasha Stories

  "Was that your first time?" he asked softly. Still overcome, all I could do was nod.

  "Did you like it?" That struck me as funny. How could he have not known that I liked it? Never realizing it was a rhetorical question, I kept nodding as tears of deep release began to roll down my cheeks.

  "Here, now, don't cry," Justin said. "It won't be the last. Would you like to do something for me now? Something I'll like as much as you liked that?"

  I kept nodding, willing to do anything to stay in this man's presence, feel his lips on me, and maybe have that glorious shattering again. Though it had been incredible, I now felt hollow below, as if something were missing from my body, and I knew just enough to know that it could only be filled and completed by his body; by the member that was even now being nudged into my hand again by the artful thrusting of his hips.

  "Come on, baby, you know what I want," he insisted. I thought I did, but I wasn't sure. Nor was I certain how in our present positions he would be able to put it into me. I wriggled a little and tried to spread my legs.

  "No, not yet," Justin said, sounding a little frustrated. With a sigh, he sat up and pulled me to a sitting position, then straddled my lap, facing me on his knees. His manhood bobbed in front of my face as he thrust a finger into my lips and pulled down until I opened my mouth. His finger tasted of something unfamiliar and sensual, and it occurred to me that this was the finger that had invaded my opening as he pleasured me with his tongue. The thought surprised me enough to make my mouth go slack.

  "That's it, baby," he encouraged, thrusting himself forward until I understood that he wanted to put it in my mouth. Suddenly understanding flooded me, and I seized his shaft to guide it. The warm, velvety skin felt divine against my sensitive lips. For a few minutes, I reveled in those sensations, the thick ridge between the tip and the rest of it, the veins that interrupted the smooth surface of the shaft.

  His unique scent, heavy on the male musk and only lightly smelling of his woodsy cologne, wafted past my nostrils and undid me. With a moan, I wrapped my tongue around him and drew him into my mouth, eliciting an answering moan from Justin. His hands guided my head to pull back and then dip again to take him all in. Justin's fingers on the skin just next to my lips drew my eyes to his as I took him all in again.

  "That's good, baby. Suck, now." I obeyed and was rewarded with his quick intake of breath before he pulled all the way out of my mouth and bent down to kiss me deeply once more. Then he again repositioned us, this time with me on my back and him crouching between my spread legs. I heard a ripping sound and then he fumbled between his legs for a moment before leaning forward to kiss me again.

  "Pull them up, baby," he said, placing my hands on my own legs, the fingers curled under my knees. I pulled up, spreading my knees wide for him, as he fell into me.

  I only became aware of how ready I was when he thrust in with no further preparation, sliding in with little resistance, assisted by my slick juices. I felt myself carried away, as if a giant bird had swooped down, picked me up, and swooped back into the air. The earth dropped away and I was suspended in a cocoon of pleasure so intense that I wondered if I'd died and this was heaven.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Rihanna was deeply asleep when I got back to the dorm in the wee hours of the morning. Grateful that I wouldn't have to face an inquisition, I went to bed myself, hugging my excitement and joy to myself. The peace wouldn't last long, though. I'd been asleep only a few hours when my bed shook as Rihanna pounced on me.

  "Where the hell were you, girlfriend?" she shrieked.

  "Oof, get off," I said.

  "No. You worried hell out of me. I deserve an answer. You couldn't leave a note? I thought you'd been kidnapped." Rihanna’s indignant tirade got through to me at last and I opened my eyes fully.

  "Sorry, Ri. I had a date that came up suddenly. You weren't home."

  "What part of 'leave a note' did you not understand? Jesus, I'd have let you know if I was going on a hot date, so you wouldn't have to stay awake all night wondering if I was safe or being raped and murdered."

  "I'm sorry," I said again. She was right; I should have left a note.

  "So who was it? Anybody I know?" Rihanna asked, mollified by my apology.

  "I don't think so," I hedged.

  "I don't think so. Girl, don't make me beat it out of you. What. Is. His. Name?"

  "Um, Justin," I said, unable to think of a lie on no more sleep than I'd had.

  "Omigod! You did NOT sleep with your professor!"

  I did my best to turn over, though she was straddling me, and put my pillow over my head.

  "Shit, Janey, what did I tell you? So now what? Are you guys a couple? Tell me it was a one-night stand and I'll let you up."

  I pulled the pillow off my head and twisted back to face her, a big grin on my face.

  "God, I hope not! It was amazing."

  Rihanna scrambled off my bed and stood in the middle of the room, pointing at me with a shaking finger.

  "No good will come of this. Mark my words," she said, her dark tones making me giggle.

  "Since when have you been reading Victorian novels?" I asked.

  "Fuck you, I'm not speaking to you," she said, flipping me off.

  "Okay. Can I go back to sleep, then?" I knew she'd come around eventually, but I was too exhausted to fight about it, especially when she kept making me laugh and that made her even madder.

  "Fine. Whatever," was her parting shot.

  Too soon, my bed bounced again as Rihanna jumped on it to wake me.

  "Ri, what the hell?" I complained.

  "Wake up! It's noon and I'm starved."

  "Well, go get something to eat. I'm sleeping."

  "No, you're not. You're coming with me and you're going to give me every detail. Roll out before I pour this glass of ice water on you."

  My eyes flew open to see that she indeed had a glass of water poised to pour on me.

  "Okay, okay! Don't," I gasped. Rihanna got off my bed and stood back, watching to make sure I got up.

  She might have been able to get me out of bed, but nothing she did or said would make me give a graphic description of the night I'd had with Justin. All I would say was 'amazing'. Finally, frustrated, she gave up.

  "So will you get an A in the class?" she asked.

  "Why does everyone assume I can't get an A without sleeping with the professor?" I complained. "I was already getting an A."

  "Well, this cinches it, doesn't it?"

  "Whatever."

  "When will you see him again?" Rihanna continued to pry.

  "Tomorrow morning, in class," I said, smug with the knowledge that, while my answer was truthful, it wasn't responsive. However, Justin hadn't said anything about next time. I assumed he'd tell me at coffee in the morning.

  The following morning, however, I sat in the Student Union with my coffee, waiting for him in vain. Alicia came by and asked if she could join me.

  "Oh, hi Ali. Sure, why not?" I said, brightening.

  "Where's your boyfriend?" she asked.

  "Excuse me?" I responded.

  "Where's Prof. Mackey?" she clarified. "Isn't he usually here with you for coffee? I never see you anymore, except in class." Our friendship hadn’t advanced much, as we’d discovered we didn’t have a great deal in common.

  "Oh, yes, sometimes he joins me." The little white lie was for my benefit as much as it was for Justin’s. I didn't know where he was, or why he wasn't there with me that morning, and I wanted the whole thing to seem casual.

  Alicia let it go at that, but seemed to examine my face more closely than just a casual glance. We went our separate ways when it was time for the next class. I spent the rest of that day and the next in an agony of indecision. Justin had my number, why didn't he call? Should I call him? Rihanna wisely stopped pestering me by Tuesday. By that time, I was mad. Wednesday morning, I dressed carefully to wow any male who took notice, and stomped off to class.

  For the first half-ho
ur, I'd raise my hand for any question Justin asked of the classroom, regardless of whether I had a prepared answer. He never called on me. I stopped doing it when I realized that some of my classmates were throwing pitying glances my way, while others were hiding smug smirks. After class, I went for coffee from sheer force of habit.

  A girl whose face was familiar but whose name I didn't know slid into a chair across the table from me. I looked up to see a face full of sympathy.

  "So, he nailed you and dumped you, too," she said. My stomach did a flip.

  "What are you talking about?" I asked, knowing all too well what she meant, but unwilling to admit I'd been a fool.

  "Oh, come off it. It's his pattern. We all know it, but we all hope we'll be the one to change him. He's a hot lover, isn't he?"

  I got up and left without another word. Let her think what she wanted; I wasn't going to confirm or deny, as they said of politicians.

  On Friday, the same game played itself out, without my participation, as I didn't raise my hand for the questions. If Justin had just wanted to 'nail' me and then dump me, I wasn't going to humiliate myself by begging.

  Rihanna, however, was beside herself. It took her all week to notice I was more subdued, but when she did, she was relentless in ferreting out the reason. Friday night I finally broke down and told her Justin had been ignoring me all week, without any explanation. She was livid.

  "That motherfucker! Want me to cut off his balls for you, hon?"

  I couldn't help but laugh. That's exactly what I wanted to do, not let my friend fight my battles for me.

  "Don't worry about it, Ri. It isn't as if you didn’t warn me, and I did get a night of amazing sex out of it. So it was a one-night stand, so what?"

  "You used protection, right?"

  "I think so."

  "You think?" she howled.

  "I'm pretty sure."

  Mumbling to herself and shaking her head, Ri went to her closet and pulled out a short skirt and U of U Utes basketball jersey.

  "Come on, we're going to the game."

  ~~~

  The huge dome of the Huntsman Center was full to capacity. The game we'd see tonight was just an exhibition, though, which Rihanna explained was a practice game against a visiting team that wouldn't count toward season rankings.

  "Ri, you realize I've never seen a basketball game in my life," I said. I didn't even know what season rankings were, or how the game was played.

  "Yeah, yeah, I'll teach you what to look for. You'll love it," she stated. I was not so confident, but to my surprise, I did. It was so fast that often I was still puzzling over whether the ball had gone through the hoop at one end, while the players were already at the other end jockeying for position. Ri explained the scoring as it happened, and showed me how to watch the large screen hanging from the ceiling if I wanted to see a replay of what I'd missed. The diagrams were helpful, and I began to detect patterns in how our team, the Utes, moved and circled, trying to get the ball closer to the basket before attempting a shot. I couldn't understand Rihanna’s disappointment when the score was so lopsided at halftime, thinking it was the win that was important.

  "We're killing them," she said. "Coach will bench Drew and put in the second and third string. Come on, we might as well go."

  Disappointed that I wouldn't get to see the rest of the game, I tagged along reluctantly. At The Pie, Ri explained.

  "It's so much more exciting when the game's close. Besides, I really wanted to see Drew more. I haven't been to watch practices, and I'd like to know how he's improved his three-point shooting since last year. He's NBA material if he keeps getting better."

  I hated to ask, since she was already disappointed. "What's…"

  "NBA? Lord, why do I bother? You're like a blank slate, you know? It's going to take years to bring you into the twenty-first century." As I began to bristle, she relented. "National Basketball Association. Pro ball. It's a big deal, Janey, trust me. If he got drafted, he'd be able to get out of Ogden and do something with his life."

  I was still a little miffed at the blank slate remark, so I didn't answer.

  When Rihanna judged that the game would be almost over, we headed back to the stadium, meeting trickles of people heading away. Since it was near the end of the game, Ri led us to seats that were much lower than the ones we'd started in. From here, we could see much more clearly in a way, but in another way, it was more confusing. I couldn't see the patterns anymore, though I could keep track of the ball better. There were two minutes left in the game, and we were ahead 88-54.

  As Ri had predicted, her friend Drew was sitting on the sidelines. The only exciting thing that happened after that was a long three-point shot with 41 seconds to go, and then the other team basically folded. Ri said they 'hadn't shown up', which I assumed was another slang phrase, since they were clearly on the court. When the horn sounded, she grabbed my hand and hustled me over to the players' exit, where Drew would see us as we passed.

  "Drew!" she shouted as he was about to pass a few feet from us. His head came up and the look on his face changed from neutral to a big grin when he spotted Rihanna.

  "Hey, Ri! Were you here the whole game?" His long stride had brought him to face us and he gave Ri an enthusiastic hug.

  "Nah, when they took you out, we took a break. Good game, though," she said.

  "Woulda been better if we had an opponent," he said, looking at me with interest. Rihanna took the opportunity.

  "Janey Nielsen, I'd like you to meet my bestie, Andrew Craig," she intoned. His big hand reached to engulf mine.

  "Nice to meet you, Janey,"

  "Hi! Nice to meet you, too, Andrew."

  "Call me Drew, my friends do," he invited, smiling. Turning to Janey he added, "You guys want to go have a coke or something after I clean up?"

  "Sure!" Rihanna answered for both of us. When Drew had continued down the passageway, I looked at her curiously.

  "He can't drink during the season," she explained. Fine, then, we'd have a coke.

  "Ri," I said, staring at Drew's broad back and short hair. Even from the back, he looked built like a weight-lifter, his deltoids and lats rippling under his Utes t-shirt as he walked.

  "Yeah?"

  "Um, never mind," I said. Rihanna’s eyes followed my line of sight.

  "Oh. Yeah, he's seriously hot," she said, shrugging.

  "So, what's wrong with him?" I asked.

  "Nothing! What gave you that idea?" Bristling, Ri was ready to defend the smoking-hot Drew.

  "You aren't dating him?" I ventured.

  "Ew! That would be like dating my brother. Seriously, I've known him since nursery school. Believe me, there's no spark, but there's abso-fuckin-lutely nothing wrong with him." Rihanna’s voice had risen, and Drew looked back at us.

  "Wrong with who?" he asked.

  "No one. We'll get a table, you get the cokes," she answered.

  I actually didn't want a coke, but if Drew was buying, I wasn't going to make an issue of it. He came back to the table with a tray that was laden with three large cups of soda and a huge tray of French fries with cheese melted all over them.

  "Hope you girls are hungry," he said.

  Rihanna dug in and brought up a handful of soggy fries, stringing cheese across the table to her mouth. Slightly repulsed, I watched her with horrified fascination, taking in the change in her expression as she bit into the gooey mess.

  "Have some, Janey, it's manna of the gods."

  "Um, no thanks," I said, sipping at my coke. "It looks a little messy."

  "What's wrong with messy?" Drew grinned, as he scooped some up, too. "C'mon, try it. You'll love it."

  Reluctantly, I dipped my fingers in, doing my best not to get melted cheese on them. I managed to snag just a couple of fries, with a little cheese on them, and bring them to my mouth. I'm sure my eyes popped nearly out of my skull at the first delicious taste.

  "Omigod," I said, unconsciously echoing one of Ri's favorite expressions. "I ca
n't believe how fabulous this is. Where have you been all my life?" I addressed the fries.

  Drew laughed, a great booming sound that echoed off the walls and ceiling and drew stares from people all around us. "Why haven't you ever tasted them before?" he asked.

  With a quelling look at Rihanna, I shook my head. "Just never got around to it," I said.

  We finished the cheese fries in record time and before they were gone, we were all laughing like maniacs. Drew was a very likable character, not at all the snobbish elite athlete that characterized the football team. When Rihanna started talking about his NBA potential, he put a stop to it quickly.

  "Hey, kiddo, that's only if I'm very lucky and the Utes have a couple of winning seasons. I'm too small for the NBA, so it's going to really take luck."

  I goggled at him. Too small? He was at least six-foot-six, and built, as the cowboys would say, like a brick shithouse. Or, maybe that was only for girls and there was a more appropriate word for guys. Whatever, Drew was just as shredded from the front view as the back. I wanted to ask him if he worked out, but some measure of common sense told me I'd sound like a complete idiot if I did. There was no question that he worked out. I remembered his quick transition from one end of the court to the other and wondered if his legs showed the same kind of muscle definition. I knew his calves did, but the long basketball shorts hid his thighs. Thinking of thighs made me remember Justin's between mine, and I blushed, apropos of nothing.

  Drew stopped talking and looked at me as the slow flush climbed my neck into my face. I was looking anywhere but at him, hoping he hadn't noticed, and that he had said something that would account for it, but truthfully, I didn't know what he'd just said.

  Ri looked from Drew to me and a sly grin spread across her face. "Drew, I think she likes you."

  I threw her a horrified glance and fled to the ladies' room, planning to stay there until she came to get me and tell me we were going home. I couldn't face Drew after that little episode.