School Fling Anthology: Class Is in Session

by Jessica Wood

His full lips curved into a brilliant smile, and those deep-set dimples made my knees weak. He pulled me closer to him as we walked towards the blanket that floated in a sea of candlelight. His embrace was warm and comforting, and his intoxicating smell made me dizzy with anticipation.

  As we sat on the soft, smooth blanket, he poured the champagne into two crystal flutes. I took a glass from him, and he said, “To us. To the first day you came into my life. To the moment you took a chance on us. To every day I’ve been able to spend with you. And to the rest of our lives together.”

  We touched our glasses together in a light ping and we drank deeply, our eyes never leaving one another.

  “I cannot imagine loving anyone else the way I love you,” he said as he pulled me closer and sweetly kissed me on the forehead. I sighed with complete abandonment. I looked up at him and into those warm brown eyes, and I felt my body melt in delight.

  As if sensing my desperate wanting, he leaned down and kissed me deeply. His full lips were soft, warm, and delicious as they enveloped mine, and as I eagerly kissed him back, I could still taste the remnants of champagne on his lips, which were even more amazing from his lips than from my glass. I could feel my heart pounding harder as our kisses grew deeper.

  For a second, he gently pulled away from me, leaving me yearning for more. He picked up a strawberry and looked at me longingly as he slowly took a bite before sensually feeding me the rest with his fingers. As I took it into my mouth, I playfully sucked on his fingers—the roughness of his skin against my tongue sent a shiver through my body. As his index finger slowly left my slightly closed lips, he let out a deep, primal groan of desire.

  We locked eyes again, and suddenly, our lips met again, this time with more urgency in our movements and more need in our responses. He pulled me toward him and I straddled him. Our legs were intertwined with each other’s as our lips continued to discover one another’s without missing a beat. I slowly unbuttoned and removed his shirt, and I inhaled sharply as I took him all in—his smooth, sun-kissed, muscular chest; his defined six-pack abs; his broad, strong shoulders; and his lower ab muscles that led to his erection. I shifted my body on top of him and a growing need built in the pit of my stomach as I felt the push of his erection through his khakis and my lace panties.

  I felt his hands moving all over my body—rough, strong, and desperate—down my back, down my legs, up the inside of my dress, and down my panties, where he grabbed my butt cheeks and pulled me up against him. I gasped as I felt his hardness pressed up against me.

  His lips left mine as they roamed the hot spots around the nape of my neck and my ears then down toward my breasts—his tongue always working in unison with his lips. With a swift movement of his hands, he pulled my dress over my body and quickly unhooked my bra. The urgency in his movements caused my body to grow hot with need. He grabbed my breasts and kissed them one at a time, softly at first, but with growing roughness and need. I gasped with pleasure as my body naturally responded to his touch—his soft, wet tongue, his stubble, his rough hands—sending electric, hot shockwaves through my body, causing a growing throb at the pit of my stomach.

  “My God, Emma. You’re so hot. I need you so badly right now,” he said, his voice ragged with lust. “Do you know how much you light my body on fire?” He grabbed my hand and said, “Every inch of my body needs and craves every inch of you.” He guided my hand down onto his khaki pants where his erection was desperately pushing through.

  The instant my hands felt the hardness, I could not resist any longer. I unzipped his pants and inhaled sharply as my hand found him—hard, smooth, and ready.

  His head jerked violently back as I ran my hands down the length of his erection. “Oh God, Emma, you feel unbelievable.” His voice was coming out increasingly strained and shaky. “I don’t think I can take it any longer,” he stammered out.

  He then moved up slightly and laid me down on my back. He quickly stood up and removed the rest of his clothes. I looked up at him and his gorgeous, muscular body. My eyes immediately locked on to his long, hard erection, and the need inside me was ready to explode in anticipation. Within seconds, his warm, strong body was on top of mine. He licked my ears, and his tongue caused waves of pleasure to shoot through my body. As he moved slowly and rhythmically on top of me, I could feel his erection through my panties, and a flush of warmth spread through me as every part of my body came alive.

  I struggled as I pushed my panties down my leg and off of me. “Please,” I said with insatiable need, “I can’t take it any longer. I need you inside me.” I squirmed beneath his crushing weight, desperately arching my body up towards him.

  Finally, I felt the tip of his erection push against my opening. I let out a deep moan, anticipating the pleasure that would soon greet me—

  BEEP BEEP BEEEEP! BEEP BEEP BEEEEP!

  As I opened my eyes, I clumsily found my alarm clock. I was lying on my bed. In my bedroom.

  Realization slowly crept its way into my consciousness. It was all a dream. All just a dream. A dream.

  Yet it had felt so real, and I could not remember the last time I had had such a vivid dream. I was filled with an overwhelming feeling of loss as I tried desperately to go back to sleep, to go back to him—that deliciously hot man in my dreams. My body still tingled from the memory of his touch, was still intoxicated by the memory of his smell, and still yearned for his body to join mine.

  Chapter One

  “Emma, did you book your flight yet?” Jill asked as she popped her head into the kitchen with excitement in her voice and a gleam in her eyes. “I booked mine this morning!”

  “Not yet. I’ll buy my tickets later tonight. Promise.” I looked over at her with a reassuring smile and knew she was anxious for me to finalize my flight before prices went up even more.

  “Okay, and I’ll make sure Steph and Gloria get their tickets soon too,” Jill said. “We only have a month left to plan this trip, and there’s still so much to plan out!”

  I laughed. “Jill, don’t stress out about it. We still have a whole month left before spring break. I’m sure we’ll have a blast together regardless of what we do. Besides, with you as our event planner, I have no doubt that it’ll be the best spring break ever,” I said.

  Jill was the planner and meticulous one in our group of four. She had lists for everything and loved to organize events and trips. This was great for the rest of us. Without Jill planning our senior year spring break trip to Cancun, we’d just show up and try to figure out what to do when we got there, which probably wasn’t the best idea considering that Cancun was supposed to be the spring break hotspot for college students.

  “Thanks, Emma. Sorry if I’m being anal about this,” she said. “But this will be our last big hurrah before we graduate, and I really want it to be unforgettable. I don’t want us to forget each other when we all graduate and go our separate ways and—”

  “Jill, don’t think like that,” I said, interrupting her. “I know we’re all moving away from L.A., but that’s not going to change the fact that we’re all best friends. We’re only a phone call and plane ride away. Trust me,” I reassured her.

  “Yeah, you’re right, Emma. Gosh, I’m really going to miss you when you move away.” Jill sighed. “Who’s going to keep me fed when you move out?” she teased.

  “So what you meant was, you’re really going to miss having your own personal chef,” I shot back with a laugh.

  “Well, that too,” she giggled, “but seriously, it’s going to feel weird without you here in L.A.”

  “Yeah, I know what you mean,” I agreed. Out of our group of four, Jill was my very best friend and the closest thing I had to a sister. We had been roommates since the beginning of sophomore year, and for the past three years, we’d lived in this small—but perfect—two-bedroom apartment in Brentwood, just a few minutes west of the UCLA campus where we went to college.

  Jill and I met during Welcome Week freshman year. She was one of those effortlessly
trendy people who seem to always have it together. She also possessed this natural charm that people seemed to gravitate towards. Plus, she was a hapa—half Asian, half white—and gorgeous; every guy at UCLA seemed to drool all over her when she walked by. And the infuriating part was that she was clueless to the lure she had on people. From the moment I saw her, I wanted to hate her.

  But when I actually spoke to her for the first time, I had instantly loved her. She was genuine, bubbly, and thoughtful, which made it difficult for anyone to resent her for very long. We’d been best friends and inseparable ever since then.

  It was going to be weird not seeing her on a regular basis after graduation. Out of the four of us, Jill was the only one who was staying in L.A. after graduation. She was going to be an accountant at PricewaterhouseCoopers. Our friend Steph was attending law school in the fall at the University of Pennsylvania in Philadelphia, and Gloria was moving to Paris after graduation to be an assistant art curator for a prominent art gallery there. And as for me, I was moving to San Francisco right after graduation. I was going to be a marketing associate at Fisher & Morrison Consulting, one of the top consulting firms in the country. I was beyond excited for this great opportunity and, of course, incredibly freaked out at the same time. I knew that I’d worked hard in school and deserved this job, but part of me felt inadequate—what if there had been a mix-up and they had never intended to hire me?

  “So what are you making today?” Jill asked with delight, changing the subject and pulling me out of my thoughts. She loved it when I decided to bake.

  “I’m just finishing up these chocolate brownies for the Student Body Bake Sale tomorrow,” I said as I quickly put on the oven mitts and pulled a fourth batch out of the oven. Two more batches to go and then there should be more than enough for the bake sale, I thought.

  “Oooh, can I have one, Emma?”

  Before I could say yes, Jill reached for a cooled brownie. I laughed at her excitement.

  “These are amazing!” she exclaimed. “I’m sure Mike will appreciate all your help with his Student Body stuff. He may be the big hotshot president of UCLA’s Student Body, but he’s nothing without you and your help. You’re the best girlfriend a guy can have.”

  “Right, thanks,” I said, feeling a tinge of guilt wash through me.

  To be the best girlfriend, you shouldn’t be having sex dreams about a man who’s not your boyfriend. And you probably shouldn’t wish that mystery man were real and doing unspeakable things to your body. And you certainly shouldn’t have those desires when you haven’t even done those things with your boyfriend! I thought to myself.

  I hadn’t told the girls about the dreams I’d been having almost every night for the past few months—not even Jill. It was that same dream every night, with that same mystery man, on that same beach. I felt guilty just thinking about him again. Plus, the thought of this man made it difficult to think about pretty much anything else, and the memory of his touch made me hot and weak all over.

  “So why are you baking so many brownies?” Jill asked, bringing me out of my reverie. “I mean, don’t get me wrong, I would never complain about you baking,” she continued as she reached for another brownie, “but aren’t there a lot of people bringing baked goods for this sale? Four pans of brownies seem to be a lot from one person.”

  “Actually, I’m making six trays of these,” I said quickly, feeling slightly defensive. “I know I’m making a little more than normal, but this is a big bake sale and they’re trying to raise a lot of money. I just want to be supportive,” I said, trying to convince her—and myself.

  “You really are the best, Emma. Well, I have to finish my history paper tonight, so I better get back to work. Thanks for the brownies,” Jill said gleefully as she grabbed a third one to go. “And thanks for subtly calling me out on being a Cancun-spring-break-planning Nazi. I know I can be slightly obsessive when I get into my planning mode.” Jill laughed at herself.

  “I know, and we love you for it. But trust me, we will have an unforgettable time in Cancun, and I know you’ll do a great job planning it, like you always do.”

  After Jill left the kitchen, I was lost in my thoughts.

  Why are you baking so many of these for Mike’s bake sale? I knew Mike wasn’t expecting me to bake this many. In fact, I had only been planning on baking one batch, not six.

  Okay, yes, it was true that I loved to bake and found it really relaxing. But maybe I went a little overboard with six batches. Jeez, Emma, you’re only baking for a bake sale, not trying to feed a small village in Africa. What were you thinking?

  Then a thought came to me. Was I trying to compensate for my feelings of guilt? I knew that I’d been feeling guilty lately with these dreams. No, I couldn’t control my dreams, but the fact that I didn’t want these dreams to end was the source of my guilt. Sometimes I caught myself making an excuse to go to bed early, just for the possibility of seeing him again, touching him again, kissing him again. My skin prickled at my memories of him.

  Don’t get me wrong, I really cared about Mike. We had been together for about a year now, and we got along pretty well. One thing I really appreciated about him was how understanding he was that I wanted to wait to have sex. Most men I had dated had dumped me pretty soon after they realized that they’d have to wait awhile before I would even consider having sex with them. They hadn’t cared that I had my reasons. In fact, even after I told them about what happened to me that night during my freshman year—the night that changed my life forever—they still broke up with me when they realized that I wanted to wait.

  But Mike seemed to be different. Even though he wasn’t a virgin, he respected the fact that I was. He seemed okay with the fact that I wanted to take things slow. He once told me that he wanted to be my first and was willing to wait until I was ready. And for the past year, he waited patiently, but for some reason I couldn’t explain, I still hadn’t felt ready to have sex with him.

  I knew I wasn’t a prude. I’d done everything up to sex. But I’d always wanted my first time to be special—and with someone special. And as much as I cared about Mike, it never felt right to me—he never felt right to me. I knew it was silly to compare, but I’d never felt that unquenchable need for Mike that I felt in my dreams for the mystery man. In fact, even in my waking hours, I yearned for this mystery man that only existed in my dreams.

  People described the feelings they had for the one they loved—that electricity they felt when their bodies touched. I hadn’t felt that yet with anyone, and I wanted to feel that with the man I would give my virginity to. Maybe I was being naïve to think that kind of love could be real, but I was not ready to give up the hope that it could be a reality for me.

  Chapter Two

  After several weeks of shopping and of desperately searching for some decent-fitting swimsuits—which, by the way, was nearly impossible—Cancun was just a day away. I was giddy with anticipation at the thought of the fun-filled week Jill had planned for us. It took me over two hours to pack, but I finally managed to pull the zipper around my suitcase, which was now stuffed to the brim.

  I heard the doorbell sound from the living room. That must be Mike. We were going to have dinner and hang out before we both left for spring break tomorrow.

  “Hi, babe,” Mike said when I opened my apartment door to let him inside. He was wearing my favorite worn-down grey t-shirt and dark-washed jeans, and he looked handsome this evening. It looks like he just shaved before he got here, I thought to myself.

  He leaned in for a hug and I inhaled deeply the familiar smell of his cologne as I buried my face into his embrace. He only wears his cologne on special occasions. “You smell nice. Are we wearing cologne tonight?” I teased as I leaned up toward him to give him a kiss before leading him inside.

  “Well, considering we won’t be seeing each other for all of next week, I wanted tonight to be special.” There was slight rawness in his voice, and I felt a tinge of guilt. “I know, I’ll really miss you,
but we’ll talk on the phone daily. Promise.”

  “Are you all packed for Vegas?” I asked, trying to derail the conversation.

  “Not yet. My flight isn’t until tomorrow afternoon. I’ll pack in the morning.”

  “Mike, you are such a procrastinator,” I laughed as I playfully slapped him on his shoulder. “You always leave things to the last minute.”

  “Hey, what can I say? I work well under pressure,” he said with a smirk.

  He pulled me into his arms and kissed me. I let out a deep sigh of content. Mike made me feel comfortable and safe, and I never felt pressured to do anything I didn’t want to do.

  “I love you so much, Emma,” Mike whispered softly into my ears, his warm breath sending chills down my back.

  I looked up at him. “I love you too, Mike. And I really will miss you when I’m in Cancun. I promise to send you lots of pictures of the beach, the sunset, and Chichen Itza.”

  “Chichen Itza?” he asked, his eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

  “Yes, remember? I mentioned it to you before. It’s one of the places the girls and I are visiting next week. It’s one of the largest pre-Columbian Mayan city ruins,” I said.

  “Oh yeah, right. You did mention something about that,” he said with a hint of disinterest in his voice. I felt a shot of annoyance in his response. He never seems interested in anything beyond what’s going on immediately around him.

  “So where did you want to order dinner from?” I asked, trying hard to brush off my irritation.

  “I was thinking maybe some Chinese take-out. What about you?”

  “Chinese food sounds great. Do you know what you want to get? I have a few menus here somewhere,” I said as I sifted through the kitchen drawer dedicated to take-out menus, condiment packets, and other random odds and ends.

  “Yeah, some Kung Pao Chicken would hit the spot. Want to share?” he asked.

  “Mike, you know I have a peanut allergy. There are peanuts in Kung Pao Chicken,” I said, my irritation starting to return.