Secret Maggie

by KT Morrison

  “Let’s go,” she said, gesturing with a hand to the flight of stairs twenty feet down the hall that would lead them up to his dorm room. Cole smiled too now, and there seemed to be a rapprochement here. A bridging of two halves that used to come together quite nicely when they were just friends. She would hate to lose that.

  3

  Johnny vs. Kitana

  Wednesday, October 4th

  Cole led the way and she followed. She was noticeably quiet, lost in thought about all the protocol when a woman who was engaged was spending time in the private room of another man. She shook her head, tried to keep herself away from the salacious, wanted to say something, but the best she could come up with was, “What games does he have?”

  Cole spoke over his shoulder, said, “I don’t know. I never play with him.”

  “Oh,” she said. Then back to a self-conscious quiet, two canines pinching a lump of her slippery inner lining just below her bottom lip, making it tangy.

  They climbed to the third floor, turned right, and made their way to his room. She saw Caitlin who she attended Literature study group with and she felt a tingle of fear. Like she’d been caught sneaking around. But Caitlin just said Hi, Maggie, Hi Cole as she passed, her face lit with a big genuine smile. Maggie’s heart was pounding. Where did this guilt come from? Caitlin knew she was friends with Cole, she’d seen them together before. Even on this floor...even near his dorm room.

  Cole went ahead of her into his room. Past his shoulder she could see that his roommate was sitting up on his bed with his back up against the wall, reading a book.

  “Satinder, buddy...” Cole boomed.

  “Hey, Cole,” he said meekly, putting his textbook down on his thighs.

  “Hey Satinder,” Maggie said to him.

  “Hi Maggie. How’s Max?”

  “He’s good. We all just had dinner together.”

  Cole sat on Satinder’s bed, looked over his shoulder at him. Satinder looked at Cole with an eager urge to please. He had a boy-crush on Cole. That’s how she would describe it. He would love to please Cole, just to be considered part of his world. Cole said, “Dude, we were going to play Xbox, me and Maggie, we get here and the Ole Miss Alabama game has the rec all jammed up.”

  “Oh hey,” he said. “You can...you want to play here?” He sat straighter, inching himself closer to the edge of the bed.

  “Yeah, man, that’d be great. You set it up for us?”

  “Sure,” Satinder said, and he got his sock feet on the floor and dropped to his knees, walked to the mid-size flat screen near the foot of his bed on his side of the room. Satinder worked buttons and brought out controllers. Cole smiled to Maggie. She sat on Cole’s bed across from them.

  “What do you want to play?” Satinder said.

  “I don’t know. What do you got? Something two-player. Something head-to-head.”

  “Mortal Kombat X?”

  “Perfect,” Cole said, looking to Maggie. “I will kick the living shit out of her,” he said, looking in her eyes.

  As Satinder got it set up and the screen came to life with the menu for the game Cole said, “You got somewhere quiet you want to go? It’s going to get noisy in here, I don’t want to disturb you.”

  “Yeah,” he said, his already sad eyes drooping a little in the corners.

  “Cool man. Cool.” He got up and came to his own bed and sat next to Maggie, on the side nearer his pillows. As Satinder put his things together and slipped his books and laptop into his knapsack Cole opened the drawer of his bedside stand. A flash of silver winked in his hands as he drew out a flat metal flask the size of a slim paperback. “Got this on Monday,” he said.

  “A hip flask?” she said.

  “Have fun,” Satinder said as he backed out of the room with his hand on the door lever.

  “Thanks, Satinder,” she said to him as he closed the door.

  “Thanks a lot, buddy,” Cole called after him. He unscrewed the cap and took a swig.

  “What is it?” she asked.

  “Whisky,” he said, and swiped his mouth with the back of his hand. He held the flask out to her.

  She took it, sniffed the contents. It was fierce. She sipped it, and it burned her throat going down. She made to talk, winced as a fire erupted from within her. She lowered her head. “Oh shit, that’s terrible,” she laughed.

  “Not as good as what your dad buys, I’m sure, but it’s not Thunderbird.”

  “Oh wow,” she said, fanning her face.

  “Have another sip,” he said, urging the flask to her mouth. “It gets easier.”

  “It does?”

  “It does. I swear.”

  She took another sip and held it in her mouth. No burn, cool against her cheeks. She swallowed. The fire returned. “Ouch,” she giggled.

  Cole took his flask from her and tipped a healthy gulp of his own, closed it up and lay it on his bed.

  “Come on,” he said, and he left the bed and set himself in front of the TV, sitting cross-legged on the floor. He pat the space next to him. She hesitated on the bed, sitting with her elbows dug into her thighs. Cole stayed expectant yet confident, still patting the space next to him. He had a black lacrosse sweatshirt, grey cotton pants and chukkas. He looked very good to her. His unshaved face and his strong features, then that thick but lustrous blonde hair. She sighed.

  “What?” he laughed.

  She said, “Should we...be alone in your room?”

  His smile didn’t falter. He said, “Would you have come to my room last week?”

  “Yes.”

  “So, Maggie, don’t let that be ruined.”

  “I don’t want it to be ruined.”

  “It’s something in our control. Just don’t think about it.”

  “Sure,” she said. “Okay.” It was a warm feeling he gave her but she couldn’t help wonder what it would take to bring out that man that had dominated her on the day of her wedding planning. The bold one who stood on the altar with her where she was to be married and told her to go and take her panties off and put them in his pocket.

  “Fuck it, right,” she said. She got down on the floor next to him and she sat cross-legged, pulled her Weejuns off and slid them to the edge of the wall. Cole worked though the menus, picked a two-player head to head challenge and started scrolling through characters looking at their digital mugshots and settling on whom he would assume to engage her in combat.

  He landed on Kitana and selected her without hesitation.

  “So sad,” she said.

  “Why?”

  “Your culture’s propensity to appropriate mine with such easy vigor.”

  Cole laughed, said, “Hey, Maggie, you can pick the cool white dude if you want. I’d be honored not offended.”

  “Oh, I am,” she said, settling on Johnny Cage and locking her choice in. “I’m going to kick your skinny Japanese ass, hold you down and make you slap yourself in the face with your dumb fans.”

  “They’re called sensu, whitey.”

  She laughed and threw her head back, feeling like it was all falling back in place.

  “You ready?” he asked her.

  She turned to him and said, “Hey, what did you think of my parents?”

  “They were nice,” he said, a smirk tugging one corner of his mouth.

  “What did you think of my father? ...Really think?”

  “Your dad...seems like a no-nonsense asshole, if you don’t mind me saying. But like, he cuts throats too. He’s not just hard-line discipline, he’s got a boner for success and winning.”

  “Not bad. Pretty close,” she said. “Actually, very close, like bullseye-close,” she murmured to the side. “And, what about my mother?”

  “Your mom is so hot.”

  She was stunned. She looked at his profile as his gaze was fixed to the hopping readied fighters on the screen. He wasn’t joking. “What? ...She’s hot?”

  “Fuck, yes,” he said with enthusiasm.

  She shook her head,
said, “She’s so stern looking.”

  “I like that,” he laughed. “She looks like she might like it real rough.”

  Her jaw dropped. She had never, ever, ever in her life heard anything like that. No one had dared refer to her mother in that manner. She never thought of her mother like that.

  Cole turned and his expression had fallen, his eyes tinged with a worry. “What? ...Oh, that make you mad? Sorry, Maggie...was that inappropriate?”

  She couldn’t stop herself. She burst out in laughter. Honest exuberant joy exploding from her at that crazy thought. The more she thought of it the more it leapt from her. Her eyes went wet with tears. She pictured her mother in the hallway at The Poirot, pressed against the wall with Cole looming over her, sticking his hand down her panties and touching her quite assuredly very-hairy snatch. She laughed harder. Pictured her mother powerless against him, nothing mean to say to him, nothing to use against him as he slid a finger inside her. A different Cole, not the boy-Cole next to her now, not the student—the man with the tie, the confident one who’d made her sex-sweat leak down her legs. Now guffaws came. She was aware of Cole watching her and laughing along now too but her vision was so warbled with tears she couldn’t make him out. Pictured her mother in the conservatory taking it up the ass with Cole’s big fat cock. Pictured her tight mouth forming O shapes as he pummeled her, heard imaginary gasps and cries tinged with her Chinese voice. Now she fell back on the floor, laughing so hard she couldn’t breathe, she fanned her face and tried gulping for air. “Oh, oh my God,” she managed, then was racked with more laughter. She heard Cole laughing too, a good honest belly laugh, enjoying that he’d got her so bad with such a ludicrous thought.

  When it subsided she wiped her tears away, her finger digging into the hollows of her eyes and her belly still quivering with humorous aftershocks.

  Cole said, “You’re crazy.”

  His voice was close, very close and she blinked away the wet and moved her hands from her face. He was above her, his masculine face over hers. She giggled, “I’m picturing it. Oh shit.” Her body was seized with more laughter, her stomach sore now.

  Cole said, “Maggie’s got the giggles.”

  “I do,” she said, looking up into his eyes. They weren’t face to face, more side to side. His eyes darted over hers.

  He put a hand on her cheek, his thumb brushing away a wet streak that she felt plop into her ear canal. He said, “Max is so lucky. You’re going to be as beautiful as her when you’re fifty. Just as beautiful as you are now.”

  She whispered, “You think I’m beautiful?”

  “Inside and out.”

  A tremble passed through her jaw and she was sure it was visible. He looked into her eyes and she didn’t look away. This was way too bad. This wasn’t dirty this was just plain bad. A smile pulled her cheeks up, she laughed again. She said, “You ready to get your ass kicked?”

  “You sound confident.”

  She sat up, still wiping her face and sniffing. The controller was in her lap and she scooped it out. “Oh I am.”

  He watched her from the side, she could sense a confident smile on him, see it in his posture. He said, “Stakes then?”

  “Stakes? Like what?”

  He shrugged but his face was still turned to her. “I don’t know… Strip Mortal Kombat?”

  She chuckled, turned to him, said, “Strip Mortal Kombat?”

  “One clothing item per round.” He smirked and cocked an eyebrow.

  “I don’t know...”

  “It’s innocent.” His head was cocked, his smirk morphing to a devious smile that narrowed his eyes.

  She inhaled. Exhaled. “Fine. I’m going to win anyway.”

  “Then you don’t mind a challenge reward...”

  She turned to face him again. “Reward?”

  “Like a dare. Loser performs a dare.”

  “What is this...high school? Not that I played strip anything in high school...it just seems a little juvenile.”

  “It’s fun. Can’t have fun when you’re twenty? Believe me, we’re not that mature. We’re about to play strip Xbox...”

  She laughed, “That was your idea!”

  “You like it. Dare me...”

  She sucked her lower lip into her mouth, smiled, bit it. This was bad but it was fun. Maybe something like this would be somewhere in the middle. Fun and friendly and playful but an acceptable level of nudity and hanky-panky. They were friends, they had been intimate, there was nothing between them other than friendship, and quite frankly the idea of playing strip games with him right now was so incredibly exciting. She didn’t want to be seen naked by him...and that was startlingly arousing. Put a fear in her like she imagined maybe Max would get. Knowing she didn’t want to be revealed to him in these unflattering dorm room lights but the naughtiness of it so alluring she wanted to submit to his dumb game. And if she won, she would see him naked. And she liked that. That was just as exciting. Taboo in its way but somehow even more prominent. She hummed, let her lip plop out, said, “When I win, you’ll be naked. So...you have to streak. Like from here, across this floor, down the stairs, across the fourth floor, up the stairs back here.” She drew the imaginary route in the air with her forefinger for him.

  “Sweet,” he said.

  “Sweet? You better take this seriously. What’s your dare?”

  “Uh...mine’s for the greater good.”

  “What?”

  He said, “You stiffened up on me...”

  She frowned, her head angling back. “When?”

  “In the music room.”

  Now she bristled. A flush of warmth worked through her from her head, her ears, across her face and down her neck to her collar. “Stiffened? Stiffened how?”

  “Anal,” he said casually

  She tilted her head back, her mouth open like she was laughing but she was silent. She laughed quietly. “Cole, your...” she leaned closer and whispered, “your dick is really thick.”

  “You can take it. I want you to relax. So, my dare...you have to lay with me and let yourself relax on it.”

  “No, we can’t do that. What about Max? We can’t have sex without him. We can’t...”

  His eyebrows went up in supportive calm, he said, “I think you tightened up because Max was there. We can’t make it work when he’s making you tense. I’m not saying we have anal sex, honestly. I just want you to...accommodate me. Get used to me.”

  “Why?” she laughed, the laugh becoming a girlish giggle.

  “I can do amazing things to you, to your ass. I don’t want you to miss it.” That confident narrow-eyed smile was back.

  She imagined future couplings. “We’re not having sex?” she asked with speculative expression, looking for confirmation.

  “I swear. I’m training you.”

  She squinted, said, “Breaking me in?”

  “You’ve got a tight virgin asshole.”

  “You’re gross.”

  “You don’t think I’m gross.”

  “No,” she laughed, looking at his merry but serious face. She sighed, looked up at the ceiling, looked down at Johnny Cage, hopping from foot to foot in anticipation of the oncoming melee. “Okay. No sex though.”

  “Look at your face, you’re blushing. You’re thinking about losing aren’t you?” he sang in mock intimidation, picking up his controller.

  “Fuck off,” she giggled. She shot up, went to his dresser and looked at her reflection in his mirror. Her face had red fever splotches, “I am blushing,” she laughed and she pat her own cheeks. She turned and she put her butt on his dresser, lay her hands over its edge. “We have to tell Max, Cole.”

  “If you want. It’s up to you,” he said, his eyes honest and expressive.

  “We have to tell him,” she said.

  They took five games apiece, alternating win after loss over their first ten match-ups. Each had removed five items of clothing.

  Maggie had tried to put her shoes back on before they start
ed but Cole wouldn't let her. He took one out of her hands, peeled one off her foot that she'd managed to slip on. Then, before they began, she made him take off his shoes too.

  Maggie lost the first game and Cole taunted he would win in eight straight, and he would soon see her naked. He said it to frighten her, to shake her game. She peeled off one sock. She won the next and he took off one sock. Then, two more matches they both wound up bare foot. The next loss Maggie removed her black V-neck cashmere sweater, folded it and tossed it onto the chair with Cole's bag and books taking up the flat of the seat. Next, Cole removed his sweatshirt. Then Maggie lost. She took off her watch.

  “Come on,” Cole had exclaimed, and she laughed. He didn't argue, but when he lost the next game he ceremoniously removed his leather bracelet, humming the tune from the Olympics, and then tossed it onto his bed.

  When Maggie lost the next game she was in a dilemma. She could remove her shirt and sit in only her bra and pants; she didn't like that one. So she removed her pants and sat bare-legged in her panties, her shirt tails covering herself up.

  Cole lost the next one and he took off his belt. Another loophole in their game, she thought he'd be taking his T-shirt off.

  So now they both sat, having some battle experience, both of them more familiar with their controls. Maggie was in her panties and bra and a button up white Oxford. Cole was in a T-shirt and his grey cotton pants.

  She said, “You wearing underwear?”

  He thought about it, eyes rolled up, thumbs hovering over the buttons of the controller. “No,” he said.

  “So I can win in two?”

  Then he blurted, “Wait, no...I wore underwear today.”

  “Shoot,” she said.

  She won two in a row. The first victory she watched him stand, saw that he was mildly aroused, a curve of flesh pressing upwards eagerly against the crotch of his pants. He peeled his T-shirt off and sat back down, bare-chested. She tried not to look but did give a lingering glance to the round muscle of his shoulders, a fuzzy memory coming to her, a phantom feel on her palms knowing what his body felt like under her touch. Then, after the next loss, he rose and unbuttoned his pants and slipped out of them, let them fall to the floor and kicked them into the corner. Now he was only in a pair of white Y-front briefs.