Waves and Light: Opposites Attract Series

by Elizabeth J. Merrill

  “You don’t like the Daisy Dukes? It’s the first day of September which is still basically August for goodness sakes. The high today is 98. I’m not sure I can stand dress slacks.”

  “The Daisy Dukes are fine for a day at the beach or a trip to the park, but they do not inspire confidence in one’s tutor or physics researcher. Cotton slacks won’t suffocate you and nothing says mindless idiot like Daisy Dukes. I mean, they’re basically Jessica Simpson’s uniform. Do you want me to start calling you Jessica…or Bambi?

  “I see your point,” I agreed grim faced. He was right. I didn’t need to dress like a…Bambi. “I’ll change.” I started unbuttoning my shorts. Since David was gay, I thought it would be fine, and I didn’t feel like carting clothes down the hall to the bathroom.

  David

  “Whoa, whoa! What are you doing?” I almost screamed as I held up my hands to shield my eyes.

  “Changing my clothes like you asked,” she replied in an exasperated tone.

  “At least warn a guy.” I turned around and closed my eyes in case some mirror on this side of the room reflected her back to me. I thought of cold showers, grandmothers, and jock straps in an attempt to keep my erection at bay, but every time I heard obvious disrobing sounds like zippers unzipping or clothes dropping, my cock swelled a little more. By the time she told me to turn around, I had a full-blown hard on. Fortunately she stood in front of the mirror-door of her closet considering her reflection by tilting her head from one side and then the other. I folded my hands in front of my crotch in the classic trying-to-hide-my-erection stance.

  “I kind of forgot about this blouse. It really is cute. I love the way the cats look like dots then cats. And it does look better with black pants.”

  I was tempted to let her walk around campus with the blouse untucked, but she still looked a little disheveled and I wanted to see her cute body clothed even if it tempted my resolve to keep my hands off B.D. I couldn’t deny myself all pleasure associated with her. “You’re not done yet.” I shuffled over to her closet with my body pointed away from her to hide my erection which fortunately was starting to go down now that she had finished dressing. I pulled out a thin turquoise belt and handed to her.

  “Blue? But everything else is black. This belt doesn’t match.”

  “Trust me. It will set off the rest of the outfit.”

  She tucked in the blouse and strung the belt through the pant loops. Then she pulled some turquoise socks from her drawer and held them up for my approval. I nodded. She put on the socks and shoes and contemplated her reflection again. I explained why this outfit worked for her.

  “See even though this blouse isn’t a V-neck, keeping the top two buttons unbuttoned creates that same line which you need because you’re short. This pale pink color looks great on you and really compliments your skin tone. While jeans would work, as you pointed out, the black pants bring out the cat dots. And the hits of turquoise draw just enough attention to make the black pop. Plus the light cotton weave of these clothes will allow air to blow through thus keeping you cool even though, as you pointed out, the high is supposed to be 98.” She tilted her head again.

  “I see what you mean. I do look good and taller even.”

  “It’s a visual trick. The long black line makes you look taller.” I dug around in the box of jewelry she had on her desk and pulled out a matte silver cat hanging from a chain, and pearl stud earrings with rhinestone cat ears. “Here, go over the top with the cat theme. That’s plenty whimsical.” I dropped the jewelry into her hand.

  “Will you help me?” She handed the necklace to me, turned her back to me, bowed her head, and pulled up her hair which had come down from its messy bun while she was changing. I dutifully reached around her and clasped the necklace around her neck and glanced at her reflection in the mirror. Her breasts pulled slightly at the buttons on her blouse, and the blue belt made her narrow waist look even narrower. My cock rose to full mast again. “I’ve gotta go. I’ll be back for the box later.” I grabbed my back pack and bolted out of her room, ran down the stairs down the mezzanine, jumped into the first elevator, and ran to my room. I stripped naked as quickly as possible and, even though I took a shower just over an hour ago, I jumped into my shower. While I soaped up my now painful erection, I imagined sliding her turquoise belt from its loops and slipping the tiny, white pearl buttons through the pale, pink button holes on her cat blouse. As I stroked my hard dick, I imagined sliding a pale pink bra strap from her shoulder and tearing pale pink panties from hips. I imagined her lying on my bed wearing nothing but her little cat necklace and little cat earrings, and then I imagined how the silver cat would bob in the hollow of her throat as I thrust into her, and finally I found my release.

  B.D.

  “He’s gay. He’s got to be gay. He knows what velveteen is. He doesn’t know anything about contact sports. He picked out black and pink for me to wear. Only gay guys know what looks good with pink,” I explained.

  Wendy flounced on her pink, frilly bed, wearing a blue and white matching pajama set with ball fringe. She looked up at me with her adorable blue eyes and replied hesitantly , “I don’t know B.D. Maybe a few straight guys do know those things. Last summer when I was modeling in New York I met plenty of guys that didn’t know anything about sports and David does swim.”

  I looked at Wendy’s pajamas then fiddled with the frayed edge of my old, gray, junior-high team t-shirt that I loved to sleep in. “Swimming is not a contact sport! It doesn’t count. And that was in New York. I will allow that men living in different parts of the planet may be more attuned, shall we say, to their feminine side, but in Texas straight guys don’t know what a kitten heel is much less use the phrase in a sentence.”

  “Houston is a big city. His mom was one of Ford’s top models before she quit to marry David’s dad. And my friend Felicity said that she dated David for two months two years ago, and she claimed it was the best sex of her life. Apparently, David not only knows how and where to use his hands and other relevant appendages, but his tongue is magic. MAGIC!”

  “One, (I held up my index finger) Felicity is not the sharpest knife in the drawer, and I’m pretty sure she doesn’t know what the word cunnilingus means much less have the ability to judge it’s quality. Two, (I held up my middle finger) maybe David was just experimenting. Guys, especially in a homophobic state like Texas, do that just to see if they can stand switching, before they find their niche in college. And three, (I held up my ring finger) Felicity can’t remember what she had for dinner last night. She could easily be confused about who she slept with two years ago.”

  Wendy shook her head slightly. “I don’t know. I think Felicity has plenty of experience with cunnilingus even if she doesn’t know what it’s called. And I’m pretty sure she can differentiate good from bad. And when she claimed he was hung surprisingly well for such a thin guy, she actually pointed out the member in question in the cafeteria. I had to almost tackle her to get her to put her arms down. How could she get such a good look at his shlong without actually sleeping with him?”

  “Penis, you can call it a penis. And like I said, perhaps he was experimenting. Besides it’s a moot point as far as I’m concerned. I wouldn’t let any penis that had been inside Felicity anywhere near my private parts. That girl is stupid and skanky. How do you know her again?”

  “She came to our church’s vacation bible school every year,” huffed Wendy in an exasperated tone.

  “Oh, right, vacation bible school, it’s always full of geniuses,” I murmured. “I’m going to bed. Leave the light on, on your side of the room if you want.”

  “Nope, lights out for me too.”

  Chapter Eight

  David

  I’m not sure how I had missed her before, but since B.D. and I both swam most mornings, I quickly fell into the habit of having breakfast with her right after my swim. Despite her irritating morning perkiness, our morning chats always proved useful in some way. She gave me tips on
Baker’s homework, pointed out things like how Kleinberg always coordinated his pen color with his shirt (who does that), or told a joke like the one about the Higgs-Boson at church. And now that I had taught her how to dress, she wasn’t bad to look at either. She caught on fast. I didn’t much enjoy the way all the football players eyed her, but she wouldn’t give those meat heads the time of day. Our morning chats were going so well; I decided to invite her to gaming night. One Saturday a month our little group of physics freaks would meet to play games like Risk or D&D. This Saturday was Risk—a relatively easy introduction. D&D could be intense. She could meet the rest of the guys, hang out, and maybe play a little Risk. It would be easy for someone like her to catch on.

  When she sat down, I asked. “So…this Saturday is what we call “game night.”

  “I know. What’s the game this Saturday?” she nonchalantly asked.

  “You know? You’ve been to game night?”

  “Sure. Tyson took me a couple of times, but I don’t remember seeing you there?”

  “I go most nights except for card night. I’m not much for card games.”

  “That explains it. I somehow could only make card night last year. Since I usually waited tables Saturday nights I was only free a few times, and they all turned out to be card night.”

  “Oh…you went with Tyson?”

  “Yeah…what’s wrong with that?”

  “Nothing as long as you’re not into conversation or anything,” I answered a bit too snidely.

  So she answered a bit too defensively, “He is a little aspergery, but that’s what made it so sweet of him to ask me. He got out of his comfort zone to ask if I wanted to go. He basically suffered so that he could include me in the physics group.”

  “Uh, yeah…so what is your relationship with Tyson?”

  “Not that it’s any of your business really,” she explained while looking me up and down, “ but we’re just good friends. I don’t have time for a relationship. Besides, I thought he started going out with Brenda.”

  Whew, I knew I couldn’t date her—don’t shit where you eat and all--but I didn’t want to watch her waste her hot bod on a geek like Tyson when one of the geek girls, like Brenda, would work for him just fine. “Right, Brenda, I had forgot that they were now an item. So, back to Saturday night, want to go?”

  “Sure.”

  “Need a quick Risk tutorial?”

  “I’ve played a few times,” she replied cryptically.

  “Fine. Pick you up at 8:30 in front of the dorm? I want to stop on the way for snacks.”

  “8:30 it is.”

  “Good.” I picked up my backpack and made my way to class congratulating myself on another good deed. I usually didn’t want to cut into my gaming experience by worrying about syncing with the person I came with, but I could sacrifice this once as a favor to B.D. for all those homework tips.

  B.D.

  I looked myself over in the mirror. Wendy wasn’t available for outfit advice since she’d decided to visit home for the weekend, but I think I still did pretty well. Instead of the T-shirt I would normally wear, I opted for a button-up blouse with little blue flowers. I didn’t button the blouse all the way up, so it created the v-neck that David was all about and it framed my cat necklace perfectly. I kept the outfit casual with blue jeans and loafers—not date-wear as Wendy would say—but better than schlepping-around-campus wear.

  Just before 8:30 I got a text from David saying he was headed out for the car. A few minutes later I sauntered into the lobby just in time to see David pulling up in his shiny, red Honda. I dashed across the lobby and into his car. How did he get here so fast?

  David greeted me with “hey” just as he slid the car into first gear.

  “Hey,” I managed to croak back while I tried to catch my breath. David gave me a perturbed look.

  “What?” I snapped. Did I pick the wrong thing to wear?

  “Nothing, you didn’t have to run. I would have waited, “ he explained.

  “I didn’t want you to get a ticket. I planned to be waiting for you, but you got here fast.”

  “I lucked into a close spot. I thought we’d go to the HEB on Red River to get some chips and soda if you want something non-alcoholic.”

  “Soda would be a good idea, although I might have some beer.” I wouldn’t be 21 for almost two years, but everyone at these things just acted like everyone else was old enough to drink.

  We wandered down the too bright aisles of the HEB until we found the chip aisle—conveniently located next to the soda aisle.

  “How about some barbecue chips?” he asked while holding up an offensively large bag of Lays Barbecue chips.

  “Ewwww. Gross. Those things will slowly eat out your stomach. Can’t we just get plain tortilla chips?” I asked. He glanced at the chips then back to me.

  “What do you mean? I was raised on barbecue chips. I love them.” He looked around conspiratorially, drew close to my ear, and stage whispered, “Some nights when I’m extra stumped by those gigantic proofs for Simonson’s class, I rub them on my skull and math angels come down and reveal the answer to me. These things create a direct doorway to the divine.”

  I snatched the bag out of his hand and stuffed it back on the shelf. “What you do in the privacy of your room is your business; at the party, we need tortilla chips.”

  “Fine, but I get to pick the salsa.”

  *

  We stood on the front stoop under a bare bulb waiting for someone to answer the doorbell with our arms full of snacks and drinks. David had somehow managed to sneak in the disgustingly large bag of barbecue chips, but at least I got my tortilla chips. The house itself was a slightly dilapidated post-war house with peeling yellow paint. Loud techno music spilled from the open windows. I guess they didn’t have air-conditioning nor could hear the bell. After the third ring, we let ourselves in. A hot and heavy game of Risk was already going in the living room. Four players sat on the worn, hard-wood floor staring at the board set-up on a fifties, colonial-style coffee table. Tyson strolled in from the back wearing an honest-to-God green velvet, smoking jacket puffing on a pipe for all he was worth. He waved his arm magnanimously inviting us to come further into the room. “B.D.” he said in a slightly high voice while he leaned in to kiss me on the cheek. “David” he said in a low voice with a nod towards David. “So glad the two of you could make it to my humble abode.”

  “Yeah, thanks for inviting us.” I glanced around at the big stain on the ceiling and sweat sheen on everyone’s face. “Your house is…lovely. I particularly like the Star Trek mural on the wall.”

  “Brenda did that. She’s so multi-talented. She also found the light.” He pointed to a yellow wicker light fixture hanging over the space that should hold a dining table, but instead housed several bikes. “She found it on the sidewalk on bulky trash day. Can you believe it? She pointed out how it really ties the interior to the exterior of the house.”

  “That girl has a great eye,” I nodded agreeing with Tyson.

  “Yes she does,” Tyson agreed as he herded us into the kitchen where the designer in question was dumping bags of chips into bowls.

  “Look what the cat dragged in dear,” Tyson exclaimed while he presented us to Brenda who was wearing a dress that wouldn’t look amiss on June Cleaver. She even wore a set of fake pearls—longer that June’s though—that disappeared into her sweaty cleavage.

  Brenda took the bags from us and gave us the party low-down. “Hey guys. Thanks for the snacks. The keg is in the back. Ice for drinks are in the cooler.” She motioned toward a green, Coleman cooler sitting on the floor next to the table. “D&D is about to start up on the back patio. Kurt has some multi-player video game set-up in his room. I think he has room for four players. And another game of Risk is about to start-up in the library.” She waved her hand to the front corner of the house. “And…the bathroom is at the end of the hall.”

  “Great…I think I’d like to get in the Risk action if I could
. I haven’t played in while. If that’s okay with you…David,” I asked.

  “Sure I’m not your keeper. I’m just your ride. Go have fun. I think I’ll go checkout the D&D.”

  David wandered out the back door. I grabbed a red solo cup, scooped some ice out of the cooler, filled the cup with Coke then mounded tortilla chips on a plate and headed in the direction of the library.

  David

  I wandered out to the backyard where a keg sat in a trash can in the middle of the patio and a crowd was forming around a picnic table set up in the middle of the over-grown backyard. Most of the yard was covered in grass at least a foot high, but had been trampled to create a path and a clear spot around the table. I stopped at the keg to get a beer.

  In his best snarky voice, Ben observed, “not sure what Brenda and Tyson are trying to prove with this whole fake domestic bliss thing they have going on.” His crazy black wiry hair appeared to defy gravity as he leaned and pumped the keg.

  “Yeah, they’re not fooling anyone. They’re trying too hard,” Wang agreed.

  “Hey guys.” I waved at them, grabbed the keg nozzle, and started pumping the keg.

  “Slade, my man,” Ben held up a fist for a fist bump. I glanced at his fist and then down to both of my hands full of solo cup and beer nozzle and shrugged. Ben dropped his fist.

  “So,” Wang started as he pushed his black glasses up his nose, “I heard B.D. might come.”

  “Really!” screeched Ben a bit too enthusiastically and started nervously fingering one of the buttons on his plaid, short-sleeved shirt.

  “Ummm, yeah, she’s here. I brought her,” I explained.