by M. K. Claeys
After CiCi left, I went back upstairs to join the rest of the group in the study lounge. I managed to get through a few chapters in my textbooks, but my heart honestly wasn’t in it. Jamaal was sitting next to me, as per usual, and his hand was resting on my knee, as per usual, but I could tell even he wasn’t able to concentrate on his books if the way his hand was absently running up and down my thigh every once in a while was any indication.
I was all studied out after the midterm I’d just taken, and what I really wanted was a night off. What I really wanted was…
I scribbled on my notebook and then turned it so Jamaal could see.
* * *
Hey there, good lookin’. Wanna ditch?
* * *
He took his hand off my knee under the table, grabbed his pen, and started scribbling away.
* * *
Hey, hot stuff. Maybe. What’s in it 4 me?
Popcorn.
We could bring p.corn back here, but then every1 would want some.
* * *
He rested his hand back on my knee, rubbing up and down once again, although this time it wasn’t absently. He was waiting for my reply.
* * *
I don’t like 2 share. Esp. if we eat the cookies my A. Jo sent me.
Don’t lie, Mitzy, your nostrils will flare.
THEY WILL NOT! Who said that?
Rae told me. And besides, you love to share. You’re Southern. It’s your nature.
Fine, I do like to share, but some things aren’t meant to be shared…with certain people.
You’ll still share with me, right?
Sure. I think you’ll like what I want to share.
So, like, what exactly are you planning on sharing that can’t be shared with everyone?
* * *
I thought about it. Did I dare? I did. I lifted my pen to the page once more.
* * *
Me naked.
* * *
Jamaal’s eyes bugged out of his head as he read my last note. He didn’t even bother to reply but just grabbed his books, took my hand, and dragged me out of the lounge, leaving me barely enough time to clutch my books to my chest as we hauled out of the room and tore down the hall. We both slammed into the door, and I had to try three times to get my key into the lock before the door finally opened. We threw ourselves inside, banging the door closed behind us and immediately going into a frenzy of heated kisses. When we came up for air, I locked the door, turned off the main light, and lit my lavender candle. I knelt on the bed in front of Jamaal and lifted his shirt over his head, following suit with my own, which left me with just my camisole. He raised his eyebrows questioningly at me, and I smiled shyly in answer.
“Your skin is always so soft, and for once in my life I want to feel it against mine while we sleep. If that’s all right with you, of course,” I added regretfully, fearing that I might have been too forward.
He didn’t move, so I embarrassedly reached for my shirt and prepared to pull it back over my head, but Jamaal gently took it from me and set it down on the floor. Leaning me back against my pillows, he kissed my forehead and straddled me, the most minimal amount of his weight resting against my abdomen.
“I am more than okay with it. You sleep in tank tops and shorts all the time, so it’s really only fair, isn’t it?”
I smiled slowly, crinkling my eyes at him. “I guess so. But I mean, an eye for an eye, right?”
I gently pushed him off me and sat up, removing my camisole. Jamaal stared at me, and for once I knew it wasn’t in a bad way.
“I’m sorry in advance if I drool on you,” he murmured. “Because those look to me like soul food after a year-long fast.”
“Oh? I guess I never thought about it, seeing as I live with them every day.”
“Well, you know what I’d do if I lived with them every day?” he asked, his eyes gleaming.
“Hmm?”
“This.” He leaned down and brought his mouth to my breast, and I groaned aloud with pleasure.
Seriously, why did I wait so long to do more than kissing and hands-under-the-clothes action with him? It just feels right for him to touch me.
We kissed and touched and caressed, and soon it was me on top of him, exploring his body in the way he’d explored mine. It should have felt strange to me, having never really been that physically active with a person before, but I knew Jamaal wouldn’t mind me familiarizing myself with his contours…no matter how long I took. And I definitely took my time, wanting to savor the moment and remember each and every line, including the little birthmark he had on his right hip bone. I explored to my heart’s content, until he suddenly grabbed me and flipped us over so I was underneath him again. I giggled with pleasure at the way he had abruptly resumed control and smiled to myself about how good it felt to be wanted so badly.
His touches were the most exquisite torture I could have ever imagined, and he asked my permission before taking the rest of my clothes off. What happened from there I can’t even begin to describe because it was the most unearthly thing I’d ever experienced. I exploded almost immediately, my body convulsing at the slightest touch. Jamaal came and lay down beside me as I fought to get my breathing back under control, kissing me on the forehead. Once I finally brought my heartbeat back down to a normal rate, I turned to face him.
“Jamaal?” I asked softly, admiring the slight smile that was still on his lips. “Do you want to be with me?”
He opened his eyes and lay quietly for a long time before he answered. “Mitzy, I want to be with you more than anything I’ve ever wanted in my whole life. But I don’t want to rush anything.”
“I know, Jay. I don’t feel like we would be rushing.”
His eyes widened, and his face looked completely torn between emotions, though which ones, I couldn’t directly tell. “I don’t either,” he said finally, “but I-I don’t have any condoms, Mitzy, and I know Buck Buck’s sells them, but it’s one in the morning. They’re closed.”
I smiled widely. “Actually, I have some.”
“What?”
I blushed. “Well, they’re not mine. I mean, I didn’t buy them, that is. I found them in Tasha’s desk drawer when I cleaned it out before CiCi moved in. She had a completely unused three pack.”
Jamaal laughed, and pretty soon I was laughing, too. “Well, I guess that’s the one nice thing your ex-roommate ever did for you,” he said.
“So do you want to?” I asked, after a few moments of silence.
Jamaal leaned in, pulled me close, and kissed me deeper than I’d ever been kissed before. “Mitz, you know I do. I just want you to be sure.” I started to protest, but he stopped me by putting a finger to my lips. “I’m not saying I doubt you in your ability to know your own mind, Mitzy; I’m just saying that it’s really easy to get caught up in the moment. I mean, sure, it’d be the easiest thing in the world for me to just roll you over and take you right now.”
My stomach flip-flopped.
That aggressive tactic actually sounds rather thrilling, if you ask me.
“But I don’t want it to be like that,” he continued, oblivious to my inner monologue. “Not the first time. So just think about it, okay?”
I nodded. After all, it made sense. “I will, Jay.”
We both got up and used the bathroom, and then he blew out the candle, turned off my desk lamp, and came back to bed.
“Get over here, hot mama,” said Jamaal, grabbing my hand under the blankets to pull me close from where I had cornered myself against the wall. “I still want to feel you next to me. Don’t think I love you any less than I did before tonight because if anything, I love you more. You were honest and you told me how you felt, and I could never ask for a braver girl. And the fact that you were the one to approach me about sex is hotter than you know. So come here and let me feel that fine body of yours.”
I came. And I enjoyed what was one of the most fantastic night’s sleep I’d ever had.
The next morning, we wo
ke up early—early for college students on a Saturday, that is. But being the morning-person farm-girl that I am, I woke up before Jamaal. This morning, though, was different. This morning I wasn’t content to let him cuddle me in his sleep. I ran my hand across his stomach—his very naked stomach—and woke him up by gently tugging on his lips with my own.
“Good morning, gorgeous,” I said, smiling brightly at him.
He kept his eyes closed and groaned. “No. I’m not waking up. I’m dreaming that I’m in bed with a very beautiful, blonde-haired, blue-eyed girl.” He caressed my body, feeling every inch of my exposed skin as I shivered. “And a very beautiful naked girl at that. I refuse to wake up and find out it’s all just a fantasy.”
I grinned. “Well, wake up and make your dreams come true, lover boy, because it’s a beautiful day outside, and I am awake…and I want you.”
His eyes opened cautiously, one at a time, as if not daring to believe what they would see when they did. What they saw was me looking back into them, completely serious and overflowing with suppressed desire. “Really?”
“Really.
Jamaal leaned up on his elbow and looked me long and hard in the face. Then his features softened, and he lightly brushed my hair out of my face and leaned in to kiss me, ever so softly. “I want you too, Mitzy.”
He kissed me, and I was surprised at how easily aroused I was. I mean, I had just had a fantastic orgasm, like, seven hours ago, but seeing Jamaal in the light of the morning made it a completely different experience than it had been the night before, although I did light the lavender candle again. I lay back on the bed, and Jamaal immediately ran his hands from the crown of my head down the outside of my body to my toes, his eyes drowning every part of me in their warm-chocolate gaze.
“You really are beautiful, you know that, Mitzy?”
“I feel beautiful when I’m with you, Jay,” I replied and was rewarded with a smile.
“Where did you put the, um—”
“In the dresser. Second drawer from the top on the left-hand side in the back.”
He got up, left the bed, and was back before I even had time to miss his warmth.
“You fold your socks.”
“Doesn’t everybody?”
“No.”
“Oh. Makes me more special, then, I guess.”
Jamaal laughed, giving the impression he was going to lean down and kiss me, but then he hesitated, as if second-guessing what was about to happen.
“Jamaal Landon Diop,” I cried, “if you don’t kiss me right now, I am going to kick you from here to next week!”
“Yes, ma’am.”
And he kissed me. It was just as spontaneous as the night before, but more tender somehow when he moved farther down and put his head between my legs. I was definitely enjoying myself, and then he stopped, grabbed a condom from the package, and looked at me one last time before opening it. I didn’t trust myself with words, so I just smiled, but I guess it was the right thing to do because he smiled back at me and carefully tore open the wrapper.
He entered me slowly, and although I knew exactly why, it didn’t make me any less impatient. I loved him, and I wanted all of him, but I was sure he knew what he was doing. He filled me, and Lord, did it feel good. I mean, it was a tight feeling, but not uncomfortably so—in fact, just wonderful. I won’t deny that I wanted it, and so I ground my hips against his, savoring every sense of touch. It didn’t take long for his breathing to become irregular and his muscles to tighten, and I responded by grinding harder and faster until I felt him shudder.
I didn’t orgasm, but it didn’t matter. I felt wonderful, and from the way he was panting and gazing at me, I knew he did too. And I knew that he was Jamaal, and because he was, he would clean himself up and then make sure I was taken care of and that I was feeling okay about everything, because that was the kind of man he was.
And that was why I chose him to be my first.
19
Auraelia
So seriously, what the heck was up with the way my life was going? I thought I had gotten everything together over Christmas. I mean, look at everything I’d accomplished! I’d told Dave Baxter exactly where to get off, I’d taught my little sister how to fix her hair, and I’d read books to my niece and nephew and taught them some of the shadier aspects of U.S. history I had learned from Mitzy.
I’m not even kidding. Why didn’t they teach us in school that Columbus really landed in Haiti and liked to rape, pillage, and plunder? It certainly would have made my education much more interesting!
What else did I accomplish? Oh yeah. I learned that boys are the root of all evil and that maybe I should expand the arsenal of what I throw at them. Like, maybe I should add rocks in addition to keg beer, granola, and orange soda. It might help me get my point across a little easier. I perused the apartment complex Ryn had found on the internet and decided to sign the lease to live there next year with her, Mitzy, and possibly even Paul. It would be twenty bucks cheaper a month if we lived in a four bedroom, and if Paul signed on, we could avoid the potential hazard of ending up with a random fourth roommate to occupy the space. And plus, Paul was cool, not to mention the fact that his sexual orientation would attract more men to the apartment.
Granted, the majority of those men would most likely also be gay, but gay men tend to have very hot straight friends. Very hot, open-minded straight friends. And I could totally use that to my advantage.
Which brought me to my current funk. I hated Bradley Davis. I couldn’t hate his girlfriend, even if she was way hotter than me, because she really was sweet. She’d even stopped by to say that it was nice to meet me on her way out that fateful day. And I mean, sure. I’d gotten my revenge, hadn’t I? The entire dormitory now knew what a player he was, and it was unfortunate for Kim that, as a high school student, she wasn’t able to view what was being smack-talked about him on the Illington Don’t Date This Bastard! network on Facebook. I supposed I could send her an anonymous link to my profile, but, well, it wasn’t my responsibility to let her know what an ass her boyfriend was.
I sincerely hope they’re not having sex. Because Brad is probably dirtier than Erikson Hall’s community shower floor. Shit, on that note, I’m glad I never had sex with him.
So here was the real question: did I attract drama, or did it solicit itself upon me unwarranted and unfairly? And it wasn’t like all men were evil. Take Scott, for example. Scott was a great guy who wanted to go to med school. He pretty much blatantly refused to get intimately involved with any Illington undergrad, because he (A) didn’t want them to distract him from getting accepted into Harvard’s medical program, and (B) duh, he was going to med school in another state next fall. How would that ever work? But he was a great friend to me, even if you took away the fact that he bought alcohol for me on a regular basis. And he was really good to talk to about grad school because I knew that with my major, it would be an impossibility to get a good job right out of undergrad. Another plus: since I knew he wasn’t interested in me sexually, I could talk to him about pretty much anything. And since he had, like, three years on me, had done study abroad, and was raised in Chicago, he had a lot more world experience that he could apply to help me get through my situation.
In all honesty, I guess life wasn’t so bad. I had made a lot of great friends at Illington. I’d secured a great apartment that would save me a lot of money next year. I’d made some mistakes, but I’d learned several valuable life lessons. And you know what? What better way to celebrate that newfound knowledge than to throw a kick-ass party?
And flaunt it right in front of Brad’s face…well, maybe more so his door, but still. The point is that this is going to be the best party East Williams has seen all year, and he is so not invited.
“Ryn, I want to have a party. A toga party.”
“A toga party?”
“Yes. A toga party. Because not only will it be fantastically fun, it will also give me a reason to not wear underwear in front of Brad.�
��
“I’m going to pretend I didn’t hear the last part of that statement and replace it with ‘no year at Illington is complete without a toga party.’ When are you planning on having said toga party?”
“Valentine’s Day. Because it is a lame holiday, and everyone that doesn’t have someone, which is, like, everyone but Mitzy, will want to come to support our Anti–Valentine’s Day Movement.”
“All right. I’m down. We should go to the dollar store downtown and buy some of that fake ivy stuff that we can make those Greek headdress thingies from. Because that would be cool.”
“You mean it? You want to help me throw a party?”
“Sure. I can print up flyers and put them under everyone’s doors who we want to come.”
“And I’ll give Scott the money Abigail gave me to buy alcohol, and we can ask people to donate if they want to drink it, or they can bring their own.”
“Scott should drink for free, though, since he’s buying it all for us.”
“Ryn, you’re a genius.” My party was in the works. And I was super excited.
* * *
“So do we have everything?” I asked, poking my head into the big paper bag Ryn was carrying up the front steps to the dormitory.
“For the last time, Rae, yes! If I didn’t hear you telling me sixteen million times a day how over Brad you are, I certainly wouldn’t believe you didn’t care about him with the way you’re obsessing about this party.”
“Oh, my God, you’re right. I need to stop. Let’s just have fun. We can do pre-party shots to make it happen if necessary.”
And we did. They weren’t anything hard because we didn’t want to be so sloshed that we wouldn’t notice if things were getting out of hand…or stolen. Paul brought his new boy, Dani, and we could all tell that he was drooling over him behind his glass, but I had to hand it to the man. He totally didn’t let Dani see. Scott even brought some of his really hot senior friends, and after we had a few drinks with them, they stopped seeming to mind that they were hanging out at a freshman dorm party instead of the bar.