by Lila Price
“This is Barrett!” the girl— who the hell was this girl?— said, spinning me around and nearly throwing me into the arms of a kind-faced and slightly pudgy football player.
“Hi, Barrett— I’ll be right back,” I said, relieved to find that without Jacob’s eyes on me, I’d regained the power of speech. I smiled at him, then hurried toward the porch.
Air, I needed air, and now.
Football House’s porch was still packed with people, but I wound my way to the backside, behind the kegs and away from the heat of the other partygoers. I put my hands on the railing and took a deep breath. What was wrong with me? It was just some guy— some arrogant guy who had a parade of women ready to suck his cock, one of whom was apparently my suite mate.
But I’d never had someone look at me like that— like they not only wanted, but planned to undress me. Me—a country girl, clubhouse waitress, nineteen-year-old-freshman, virgin. He hadn’t looked at Piper like that, had he?
No. He had, I cautioned myself. Surely he had— I figured he must have one of those gazes that made you feel like the only girl in his world, even though that’s not true.
Still, I remembered what he’d said: I already know her name.
One of those freshman had said someone had been asking about me. Could it possibly have been Jacob Everett? Had he spotted me that early in the night, and sent someone to learn more about me?
It didn’t seem believable, not with the parade of women that were circulating by him constantly.
I took a few deep breaths, then backed up and sat in one of the lawn chairs that lined the deck. It was hard to see the stars here— too much ambient light in the big city. So very, very different than Tifton, where the stars stretched on for ages and the only noise you heard after eleven o’clock was the trill of cicadas. Here, I could still hear the rumble of car engines and sirens, even though tucked away on the backside of the house I could see neither.
I enjoyed the cool night air for a few moments that quickly became nearly a half hour. I finally felt like myself again, and was about to turn around when someone caught my eye in the tiny yard down below the deck. Two people— the tall, leggy black girl from earlier, tugging along another form, this one tall and strong looking, even in partial shadow.
It was Jacob Everett, I realized, and I hated the fact that a wave of hurt rocketed through me. The girl was pulling him into one of the yard’s benches, and though I wanted to look away immediately, I kept my eyes on them just long enough to see the girl dramatically bend over the bench, her sundress flipping up as she did so. Jacob put a hand on her ass, then spanked it just hard enough that the popping sound reached the deck. The girl giggled in response; Jacob slid one hand down her ass, to the darkened space between her legs, and used his other hand to fumble with his belt—
I spun around, squeezing my eyes shut for a moment. I had to get out of here, now— after all, Jacob Everett was about to have another one of his apparently famous hookups, and why would anyone want to see that? I repeated this to myself more than once, trying to quell the unwelcome disappointment that was welling up in me. When I couldn’t, I took off at a jog, around the side of the deck, back to the party, which was louder, hotter, and drunker than I left it. I looked around for Piper or Kiersten— I wanted to go back to the suite, now. I didn’t see them anywhere, but the bartender was still a friendly face in the crowd. I hurried up to him.
“Hey— are Piper and Kiersten around? I need to tell them I’m leaving,” I said hurriedly.
The bartender looked surprised. “Oh. Um. Kiersten is probably in someone’s pants, or in the very least in someone’s apartment, by now, and Piper left a few minutes ago.”
“They both left?”
He nodded, giving me a pitying look. “Everything okay?”
“Yeah, I just…I just need some sleep,” I said, shaking my head. I smiled at the bartender and backed away. They’d left me.
Some first day of college.
4
I found my way back to the dorms quickly enough, though on the way I managed to rack up a not insignificant amount of frustration that my roommates had left me to walk alone, in the dark, tipsy. My feet were sore from Kiersten’s shoes and, by the time I climbed the steps to our suite, I was fairly certain I had sizable blisters on my toes. I refused to limp from them, though, when I pushed open the door and stepped inside.
“Hello? Kiersten? Piper?” I called out, forcing my voice to sound bored, rather than upset.
“You’re back early,” someone— Piper, I realized, who was on the couch— said flatly.
“I wish I’d known you left,” I said.
Piper gave a tired shrug but ignored my comment.
“Would you like me to wash this dress?” I asked, trying to hide my disappointment at being abandoned at the party. After all, this was day one and I couldn’t very well be feuding with my roommate within the first twenty-four hours of meeting her.
“That dress has to be dry cleaned.” She looked me over. “Let me take it so it doesn’t get ruined. Also, you should probably go get some of your own stuff to wear out. This fit you okay, but I think it made you look a little hip-y,” Piper said, rising.
After a second of confusion, I realized she was asking for the dress back. Normally, I’d have hurried back to my room then handed it over, but some combination of alcohol, being left, and the strange hurt feeling I had when watching Jacob bend that girl over a garden bench made me feel reckless. I dropped my purse, then twisted to unclasp the dress. It dropped to my feet and, with a quick smile, I stepped out of the puddle, then snatched it up to hand it to Piper.
“Thanks for letting me wear it,” I said. I felt myself cooling— literally and figuratively. Maybe it was a mistake. Maybe they didn’t understand how many “being safe in college” type brochures I had read. Maybe this was all a big misunderstanding. I took a breath and slowed my anger down.
Piper smiled, lips tense. “Glad you had such a successful evening.”
“It was fun,” I said. “I really did have a nice time. Why’d you leave without me, though?”
Piper shrugged. “You looked like you had things under control.”
“Yeah, but still. Can you just tell me next time? Please?” I asked, trying to let kindness shine through my words.
Piper looked annoyed, then tossed the dress into the door of her open bedroom. “I’ll try to keep that in mind. Calm down, New Lily.”
I licked my lips, then nodded and walked down to my bedroom. It was still unpacked, though I’d had time before the party to make my bed up. I knew I should wash my face, but I needed a moment alone. I hit the lights and, still in my bra and panties, curled up onto my bed in the darkness.
Calm down, New Lily. Piper said it in a way that baited me, begged me to demand I be called by my actual name. It hadn’t worked, though— one, because I could tell it was bait, and two, because I couldn’t stop thinking about the face of the one person who not only knew my name, but perhaps had even sought it out.
Jacob Everett.
I took a deep breath at the thought of him— of gray blue eyes and dark hair and the way his muscles looked against the fabric of his shirt. I was from south Georgia, so I’d seen plenty of boys who considered themselves football gods…but Jacob Everett was the only one I’d ever seen that managed to pull me into his orbit so quickly and completely. I didn’t even care about football, after all, but there was something about him…was it the way the other people at the party so clearly worshipped him? Was it the fact that he’d looked at me, asked about me when someone as confident and sexy as Piper was sitting beside him?
I smashed my face against my pillow, and reminded myself that despite all that, Jacob had been out in the yard doing god-only-knew-what with the pretty black girl. I bit my lip and wondered what it was like to be that girl, to so happily bend over and invite Jacob to take her right there, under the night sky.
I found myself clenching the muscles between my legs at the tho
ught, wondering what it would be like to let Jacob into my most private areas. The smallest of moans emerged from my lips as, for a moment, I allowed myself to think of his hands sliding between my legs, pushing them apart.
Don’t be stupid, I scolded myself, forcing my eyes open. I wouldn’t even know what to do if Jacob wanted me— I certainly wouldn’t have had the nerve to hike my dress up and bend over, no matter how well I could imagine myself doing exactly that.
But what does it hurt to imagine it? I thought, and blushed at my own brashness. Jacob Everett had asked after me, but it wasn’t like it would ever become anything— so why not have a little fun with the memory while it was fresh? I reached for my phone and Googled Jacob’s name. A million photos popped up immediately— Jacob in football gear, at press conferences, signing autographs. I scrolled along them until I found a candid photo of him walking off the football field, I assumed after a workout— it looked to be late afternoon, and sunlight was bouncing off the sweat-slicked muscles of his abs, so defined I wanted to run my fingers along them. There was a girl beside him, a pretty petite thing in a sports bra, and it looked like she was laughing at something he’d just said. I carefully resized the photo so that Jacob alone was in the frame.
I rolled over onto my back and bent my knees up, then slid my hand down my stomach and into my panties. I held the phone up so I could see the photo as my fingers slid along the wetness— the significant wetness— of my slit. My own touch made me jump; I so rarely did this, but suddenly, I wanted the release of an orgasm. No— wanted the release of an orgasm at Jacob’s hands.
The fact that I was a virgin, that I had no idea if my fantasies were realistic or not, that I was the one rubbing my fingers against my clit, none of that mattered suddenly. I stared at the picture of Jacob and imagined what it would be like if he were here, looking at me the way he had at the party. Looking at me hungrily. What if I’d stayed longer, fought past Piper and the other girls’ efforts to get me out of his immediate proximity? Would he have lead me into the garden?
I took a long, eager breath, and surrendered to the fantasy.
He would have grinned at me, that cocky, arrogant grin that sparkled all the same. He’d have shrugged Piper and the other girls off, and walked toward me intently, gray blue eyes never falling from mine, then taken me by the wrist. He wouldn’t say anything, not really, but he’d have pulled me gently along behind him, strong and sure and confident in all the ways I wasn’t. We’d have gone out one of the back doors, into the yard together, into the cool night air. Jacob would have turned around then and pulled me against him, then lifted me up so I could wrap my legs around his waist. He’d kiss me, hard and powerful, and I’d be able to feel his cock prodding at me through the fabric of his pants. He’d slide his hands underneath my ass, fingertips brushing against my pussy, and his eyes would sparkle like they had at the party— knowing I was in his arms, making me want him, making me groan from wanting him to slide his fingers closer, closer, until they groped at my clit…it would turn him on, and seeing him get so hot would make me feel wild and reckless and desperate.
In my bedroom, I licked my lips and began to rub at my clit harder, feeling the rush of blood and desire. I kept thinking of Jacob, of what he’d do to me— or what I wanted him to do to me, at least.
He’d have set me down gently, that careful, measured way that only someone wickedly strong could handle. He’d have let his hands slide up my body, pulling my dress along with it, and I’d have been left standing in my bra and panties and heels before him, open to his judgment. He’d smile— the sparkling one from the party— then tell me to take off my bra and panties. Not ask— tell— and being told would be so freeing, so simple, that I’d comply immediately. When I was undressed, night air licking at my nipples and ass, he’d place his hands on my shoulders and turn me around. I imagined his hand on the small of my back, his other hand gripping my shoulder as he bent me over. I rubbed myself faster as I imagined how it would feel, the heat of him positioning himself behind me, the ache of my pussy wanting to be filled, then the rush of feeling him enter me. Nine inches, nine inches of cock, sliding into my body; the idea made me ripple with pleasure, with want, with curiosity. What would it feel like to not only be fucked, but to be fucked by someone that large? I imagined his hips kissing against me as he pushed all the way into me, then withdrawing, slow at first, then faster, harder. His cock would throb inside me until I felt like I might break into a thousand pieces from the heat of him.
I was nearly there, and I whimpered into the darkness of my bedroom, knowing I was a moment away from orgasm.
It’s my fantasy— it’ll happen my way.
Jacob would have reached around me easily, so large in comparison to my tiny frame, pressing against my clit as he continued to pound into me, and I’d hear him groan behind me. Quietly, almost impossible to hear— he wouldn’t want me to know how close he was, but I’d be able to feel it in the way his cock was growing ever-harder inside me. I felt the rush— in real life and in my fantasy— of my orgasm finally swelling, and I groaned as I started to cum, a rush of heat and tingling sweeping through my body.
I cried out, something I’d never done before, but it was all so much, so overwhelming, and I could feel him in me, feel him possessing me in the most intimate of ways. His name— I cried out his name and despite the want to close my eyes and regain control, I stared hard at the photo on my phone as the orgasm tore me to pieces.
When it was through, I felt dissolved— a puddle of sweat and wetness and exhilaration. I finally lowered my phone, staring at the ceiling, and the less pleasant parts of the evenings felt worlds away. Nothing would ever come of this, of course, but I couldn’t help but feel appreciative toward Jacob Everett— one look at a party, and in the end I’d had one of the greatest orgasms of my life.
Still, I thought as I closed my eyes and sighed. I wish I knew what it’d actually be like to have him fuck me.
5
Jacob Everett was a problem.
Well, no, he wasn’t a problem— but the memory of him, and how thinking of him had made me feel…that was a problem. I had never had trouble focusing on school before, my hunger to put a check mark beside the “studied for two hours” line of my to-do list was usually the big priority in my life.
Now, though, I found myself thinking of Jacob in the middle of class. After class. At the library. And perhaps, worst of all, late at night, when I fought fantasies of him off for hours before finally giving in and touching myself to the thought of him on top of me.
So, yes, Jacob Everett was a problem.
Two weeks into the semester, I woke on a Saturday morning to find Piper and Kiersten were buzzing around the common area in Harton green sundresses, hair pulled up and makeup flawless. The fact that they were awake before me was remarkable— I rarely saw them before noon.
“You guys are up early,” I noted blearily, rubbing my eyes.
“It’s game day,” Piper said brightly, like it was Christmas or her birthday or the first day of eternal world peace.
“Oh. I didn’t realize,” I said. “Are you going? This early?”
Kiersten looked a touch offended, but went on, explaining as though I didn’t speak English. “It’s a three-thirty game, so we’ll go tailgate with some friends in about an hour until it starts. We don’t have tickets. Hardly anyone gets lottery tickets to the season opener, except seniors.”
I nodded. “Right. Anyway, I was just going to run down to the grocery store and get some cereal and stuff, so I guess I won’t see you guys till after—“
There was a quick knock at the door that cut me off mid-sentence. Piper and Kiersten looked at each other, clearly confused; Kiersten was the one that finally walked over and answered the door. On the other side was a muscle-y guy wearing athletic shorts and a Harton Rams jersey. It took a moment, but eventually I remembered the guy from Football House— one of the freshman football players.
“Hey, I’ve got a letter
for—“
“Oh my god,” Piper said, bouncing up and down on her heels.
“Is it from Jacob?” Kiersten asked him frantically.
“Yes,” he said, hesitant in the face of their gushing.
“Oh my god,” Piper squealed even louder, then snatched the letter away from the freshman. “I knew it. I knew it’d be me for the first game!”
“Open it open it open it open it,” Kiersten said. “Hurry!”
I swallowed nervously as Piper tore open the envelope. Was this the invitation that bartender told me Piper was after— was Piper going to be the one to suck Jacob’s cock before today’s game?
My inner feminist recoiled in horror at the notion, and yet I found myself growing envious, then hurt, that Jacob could look at me the way he had at the party but still come to Piper this morning.
“These are tickets!” Piper said, sounding alarmed and angry. She spun around to face the freshman player. “Where’s my locker room pass? Don’t I get to see him before the game?”
“That’s what I was trying to say,” the football player said. “He asked me to give tickets to someone called The Mime?”
Piper looked like she’d been punched. She turned to me, lips parted, eyes flashing angrily.
I felt as though someone had poured a bucket of ice water over my head.
“What? What’s happening? Who’s a mime?” Kiersten asked, frantically looking to the others for an explanation.
You’d have thought we’d just heard the school was closing down with the panic she was showing in her eyes at this turn of events.
“Well. You must have made quite an impression,” Piper said, rolling her eyes and shoving the now-torn envelope towards me.