And so concludes the story. Well, mostly. There is the matter of a young girl awaiting her final lessons…poor Evelyn, is she ready for what is in store for her?
But I will conclude that thread another day. For all intents and purposes, the story is complete. I went ahead and placed the story as a whole in one place so that it can easily be read from beginning to end: “A day in the life of…”
Miranda
They left the inn in silence. Demnse Jacobsen’s voice must have carried as the servants on the third floor all stared at Jaedin as he led Marcus down the hallway and stairs and out of the building.
Outside, Jaedin paused to draw on his leather gloves and took the opportunity to instruct Marcus. “Pay attention. You cannot always know which way the deer will bolt. But you can make some damn good guesses and make sure the bush they run through are ones you planted beforehand.”
Marcus digested this and then said, “M’lord…I’ve been thinking about those fireworks. I think…pardon me for saying so…that it is highly unlikely that they could have caused the immolation we saw in the kitchen.”
Jaedin inclined his head slightly, “Highly unlikely? No, not highly unlikely. Impossible.”
The boy blinked, “Impossible? But -”
“Remember, for the last six months Miranda has been beaten and raped regularly by M. Leindrich.”
The boy fell silent and no further words were spoken until they reached the corner of the road, rounding it, “But if you knew…why didn’t you….”
“Stop it? I won’t coddle them, Marcus. If I had stepped in and put an end to what is a disappointingly common set of circumstances, I would have spared her this pain at the expense of a future filled with it. She is not under my care and I cannot always protect her. That she needed me to step in would signal to all the other predators that she is easy enough prey. Now….well, no matter what the findings of the court, people will wonder about exactly what happened. And she will be left alone.”
Stumbling, Marcus paused in his walking. “The court! If they should make the connections -”
“They won’t.” Jaedin tapped the boy on the rump with his cane to start him moving again, “They’ve already been publicly embarrassed over this. They won’t want to revisit the issue. Even should they suspect, they are more then likely to sweep it under the rug. What is the fate of one cook or the vengeance of a man known for his brutality compared to their illustrious careers? No, Marcus, this case has been closed.”
The boy appeared lost in thought for the rest of the walk to where the carriage was waiting for them, “The firecrackers…don’t you have an interest in them as well? The old man who comes around every other fortnight with his cart?”
Jaedin gave a thin smile, “Perhaps. Let us say that I dislike leaving things to chance. And arranging for the fireworks vendor to stop by their house early last week is a small price to pay for peace of mind.”
Marcus shook his head, “The whole time you were investigating, you knew exactly what had happened. But how? How…did you know she would do it?
“She is imperfect, like the rest of us. I did not lie to the Constable, Marcus. This was not an involuntary act or accident of any sort. It was the deliberate act of a human being pushed too far. Yes, I did train the girl. But despite public opinion, my job is not to break them apart. It is to break them down and then give them the tools to rebuild. In that process they gain the strength and knowledge to control their abilities. They are not inhuman, and we all have our limits. M. Leindrich found hers, and though her training made it possible for her to control her gift when angered, it did not have stop her from it’s deliberate and calculated use for the oldest of reasons. Cold hatred. I more than knew what would happen, Marcus.” He paused, “I made it happen.”
Marcus fell quiet for the rest of the walk and only spoke again upon reaching the carriage, “I think I understand, Master Jaedin.” He hesitated and then followed this up with, “Does that mean we all…have a breaking point? Even you, Master Jaedin?”
“Don’t be impertinent boy.” With only the barest hint of a smile he helped the boy into the carriage. The journey home was uneventful.
It is popular to hate on Valentine’s Day – the holiday itself, the people who enjoy it, and those in your life that fail to live up to it.
I’m not a particular fan of the day myself. To me, it is up there with holidays such as President’s and Flag day. If you happen to be a president, a flag, or a valentine, then the holiday has some significance for you. If not, it is just another day.
Except – it’s not. On Valentine’s day, so many were dissappointed with how things turned out. I did not read a single story of a Valentine’s day that had a happy ending.
But I did hear about one. So I made her write it down.
***
NE’s Words:
My husband looks at Valentine’s Day as a way to reflect…not as a responsibility. Well, that is not entirely true; he does have some responsibility due to the fact that Valentine’s day is also my birthday.
I woke up and he was getting ready to go to work. He brought me tea in bed. I had some things to finish downstairs before I went to work, so we went downstairs together. While I was working he made me breakfast of eggs and toast, all the while being sweet and wishing me a good day. I finished my work and I went upstairs to get ready for work. He packed me lunch and met me by the cars to leave. I asked, “Are you going to be home when I get off work?” He said that he would be here. I noticed he forgot his badge and so I said that it was upstairs by the bed. He told me to go ahead and leave…he knew I had to get to work. So I did. I was completely fooled into thinking he was going to work, he played me so well. I even left the freaking garage door open for him.
I went to work and soon enough I was at my desk, working furiously through my lunch hour and I turned around and there he was…in the door of my office. Standing there with balloons and flowers. He had taken off work that day to surprise me! I was so happy to see him. I had somewhere I had to be, so he tied the balloons in my office and dropped me off at the building. I was worried about the flowers, but he said that he would go home and put them in a vase for me. I want to add here that I was so freaking surprised to see him. We kissed and hugged in my office. He was so cute with the balloons and flowers. The flowers were all different kinds and shades of my favorite color, purple. When he dropped me off at the building, he instructed me to be outside at 3:45, so that he could pick me up (we would get my truck later). We had some place to be at 4pm. I said no problem.
I breezed through my afternoon, happy and smiling. I was outside at 3:45 on schedule and he picked me up. He had a snack in the car, because he knew that I usually eat something when I get off of work before dinner and he had my favorite soda cold and ready for me. So I said where are we going? He said, I finally made that hair appointment for you that you haven’t had time to schedule. Now to some of you this may sound silly, but for those of you who are really busy, you know that the little things that make you feel good, but don’t have time to take care of really matter. This was a really sweet thing for him to do. So I got my hair cut, got to relax and get a shampoo (get off of my feet that I had been on all day), and generally not worry about anything.
We left my hairdresser and picked up my truck, so that I would not have to worry about it for tomorrow. On the way, he said that he picked up the next DVD in the series that we were watching (Lost, which is a totally fun and cool series) and that we had 45 minutes or so before we would leave again. He thought it might be fun to watch part of an episode. I said, awesome. We got home and settled in the family room. (I might add a clean and beautiful family room; he cleaned up the house for me!) Before we started, he came in with a gift bag. “I want to spread out your gifts and so here are your first ones.” Now I want to preface this with the fact that we had agreed for our birthdays this year that we wouldn’t do anything big…we are currently re-doing our study. I was surprised. Inside the bag was a beautiful small stuffed lion. (He used to call me his Lioness when we were younger, because when I was on top of him my blond hair would fall and frame my face…Ok we both know that female lions don’t have manes, but it is still a great nickname). I loved it.
Underneath were a pair of comfy pants and matching sweater. He got this for me because I only have stupid old hang out clothes of sweat pants and my best friend has cool hangout outfits that not only are comfy, but look good. He remembered that I had been wanting something similar to hers. I am always jealous when she says that she is going upstairs to put on comfy clothes and comes down looking just as good. So he got me a perfect outfit, and it was the right size although I didn’t try them on then due to the fact the we were going back out in a half an hour.
So we left at the appointed time and we arrived at a beautiful Italian restaurant in our neighborhood. He had made the perfect reservations, and I only felt slightly bad for all the couples waiting. (There were so many men and women waiting and you could see in the men’s eyes that they had forgotten it was Valentine’s Day and said…ok, where can I take her to a nice dinner? Little did they know they would have to wait at least an hour.) He ordered us a bottle of wine and we sipped at that and had the bruschetta on the table while we decided on our meals. I got the baked chicken stuffed with wilted spinach and smoked mozzarella in a garlic, white wine sauce over angel hair pasta, while he ordered the veal. While we had our wine, I got my second bag of gifts. He got me 2 books, and a set of DVD’s I wanted. He also got me a small box of Godiva chocolates, because he knew that I wouldn’t order dessert and he wanted me to have something sweet for my birthday. But the best part of the bag was my card. It was a beautiful Valentine’s Day card, but inside was a typed note.
The note was folded in the same manner that we used to give each other notes when we were kids. The note first had a small printed picture of 2 teddy bears, meant to be him and I (in case you didn’t figure it out, I have an attachment from my childhood to stuffed animals) placed in one of the folds. I opened the note. Inside he had composed a typed letter about all of the different times and ways that he has fallen in love with me over the years. (we have known each other since we were 11 and been together on and off since we were 14). It was amazing. Hearing someone reflect on why they love you and how that happens is truly eye-opening. I of course balled while I read it at the table.
We had lovely dinners and afterwards, wanted to go to the bar for an after dinner drink. Unfortunately, all of those sad couples were clustered around the bar, so thick that we couldn’t have even found room to speak to the bartender, let alone, sit down. So we sat at our table for a minute while I finished my glass of wine. He looked at me, and said, do you want your last present here, or at home? I couldn’t believe it. (Hell, the card was all he had to get me and I mean it!) I said here, why not? So he unzipped his jacket pocket and pulled out a small gold-wrapped box with a red bow. I was so surprised. I gave him a dirty look for spending too much and then I unwrapped it. Inside was a stunning diamond and amethyst necklace to match the earrings that Djaevle had given me for Christmas. I was amazed. I was ready to get out of the crowd and hug and kiss him properly, so we left for home.
We got home and I rushed upstairs to try on my new comfy outfit and my necklace. He took up his normal position on the bed when he watches my try things on; laid out, head propped up on the pillows, arms behind the head. Luckily, I was wearing some sexy underwear, and when I was undressing, I did a little sexy dance for him and came over and crawled on top of him. And the sneaky guy says, Ok, well, there is one more gift for you. He pulled out from behind the pillow another wrapped box, this one a clothing box. I couldn’t believe it! The fucking timing was just amazing. I ripped it open while I was straddling him and inside…you guessed it, an incredibility sexy negligee with a robe. As with everything else for this day, I was absolutely surprised. He made my day perfect. We spent the rest of the evening by the fire together. It was wonderful. I walked away from the day feeling so loved, but even more than that I felt incredibly understood and cherished. I think that is what the day is really for.
***
I will end this with a final thought.
Some of you may be wondering, after reading the previous story, why she would ever want anything other than the man she sleeps next to every night; why would she want me? The answer is simple. Bear is perhaps the single most giving, intuitive, and genuiniely nice person I have ever had the grace to know.
On the other hand, I am, perhaps the single most cruel, unyielding, focused person that NE has ever known.
Would you choose to give up either one?
Grace
A short carriage ride later brought Jaedin and Marcus to the front of a large inn. As if to make up for his earlier silence, Jaedin had encouraged his protege to speak up; the ride, brief as it was, had been filled with questions.
“We’re a society of leisure, Marcus. They’re not going to bestir themselves much over death by stupidity.”
Marcus’ brown eyes looked to Jaedin, “Stupidity?”
“Raping someone who has a reputation for starting deadly fires qualifies as stupidity in most anyone’s book.” Jaedin answered before climbing out of the carriage and approaching the doors to the inn.
Marcus followed, and, ever the diligent servant, held the door the inn door open, “Then why…”
“…is there a fuss at all? Because we can’t have the hired help offing the rich, even if they deserve it. If one gets away with it, others may get similar ideas of justice.” If there was sarcasm to his words, Jaedin hid them well in the tightness of his smile. He stepped past Marcus and into the inn.
—
No one seemed willing to disturb Demnse Jacobsen to notify him that his had visitors. When even the innkeeper himself refused, Jaedin lost his patience, “Room three-one?” The innkeeper nodded, looking slightly abashed.
“Right then. Marcus, with me.” Jaedin took the stairs quickly, sick of the time already wasted. On the third floor he found the right door and knocked loudly. It took several minutes of constant knocking before a servant answered the door and he and Marcus were granted admittance.
—
“Do you know Grace?” Jaedin was standing in front of a large desk, behind which sat a man of rather large proportions.
“Grace?” Jacobsen’s dark brows furrowed as if he was searching his memory. “No, I don’t believe I do-“
“She knows you. She runs the Crimson Room and considers her time spent with companions quite confidential – but we are old friends. Old…and close…friends.”
“What are you suggesting?” Jacobsen pushed away from his desk and stood, his large meaty hands landing atop the hard wood with the sound a large tree being felled – intimidating, if you were you were the sort to be intimidated. When Jaedin didn’t react as Jacobsen had expected (which is to say, react at all), crimson bled into his cheeks, “Do you know who I am? I am a Demnse of the church! I can have you branded a heretic. I can have you shackled and buried somewhere so deep you won’t remember your name by the time your rheumy eyes next see daylight. You will be a snack for the other prisoners and the rats they keep as pets. You are nothing! How dare you come in here with accusations and slander….” Jacobsen would have continued, but his large frame couldn’t seem to catch the breath it needed to keep him standing, much less speaking. He leaned into his desk, red-faced and heaving as Jaedin studied him.
After a few seconds, Jaedin spoke, calmly, and in soft tones polar opposite to those used by Jacobsen. “Let us be frank. You don’t have the stature needed to have a prominent citizen of this county detained, much less,” Jaedin paused as if the act of calmly recalling Jacobsen’s words took an act of considered restraint, “dragged into a dungeon and left as a snack for the vermin. The only reason you have any authority over this particular case at all is because ArchDemnse Henliech is enjoying a three week sabbatical at one of my vineyards and you were visiting a relative here in town at the time of the murder. As for your time spent with Grace – well, the other clergy might not be too shocked that you buy time with women of her nature – many of them do the same – but they may be more disturbed by your…oh, how did she put it… inclination to prance? We all have our vices, Demnse, but being mounted by a woman while wearing nothing but a saddle, bridle, and horse tail sticking out of your ass, may strain the respect of even the most liberal of your brethren.” Jaedin smiled, “Not that I have anything against such behavior. Very forward thinking, very in touch with your animalistic side. But will your peers feel the same?”
Jacobsen stared at him silence, whether still out of breath or simply without words, it was hard to tell.
Jaedin withdrew his handkerchief from his pocket and settled it on the desk. Carefully unfolding it, he revealed the small black cylindrical object he had picked up earlier: the charred remains of a firecracker. “Let us discuss this case against Miranda. There really isn’t one. All we have is an eyewitness placing her near the kitchen at the same time as the fire. Oh, and the knowledge that in the past she has exhibited some small gift for firestarting. A gift she has not used in five years. There are no reports of its’ use, by the Kytrell family or anyone else, since her training was completed. For all we know, the gift has been entirely repressed.”
“On the other hand, we have some concrete evidence, found through diligent investigation, that suggest another explanation.” Jaedin nudged the blackened side of the firecracker, rolling it across the desk. “This was found amid the debris of the scene. And we have an eyewitness that says a box of fireworks were purchased by the household in preparation for the upcoming solstice festivities. Purchased and then placed in the kitchen above the firepit. Perhaps not the safest place for it to be kept.”
“Isn’t it more likely that Master Kytrell was at fault for his own death? That he reached for a caramel pear, found a firecracker instead and his surprise caused him to knock the whole box of firecrackers into the firepit, sending flaming fireworks through-out the kitchen – an act that may have ultimately led to his demise?” Jaedin lowered his voice to a notch just above a whisper. “Why don’t you forget about Miranda, Demnse Jacobsen. Forget about her and my good friends ArchDemnse Heinlich and Grace. Decide the case as inconclusive due to reasonable doubt, and move on to better pastures.”
Silence. Seconds stretched into minutes as the two men stood staring at each other. Finally, Jacobsen spoke, “Get…out.” The words were forced past clenched teeth and the knuckles on Jacobsen’s hands turned white as his fingers curled against the desk. “Get out, or I will have you thrown out.”
Jaedin shook his head slowly, “No. I don’t think so. Not until I know you are going to do the right thing and let past actions stay in the past.” Just whose past he was referring to was left unsaid.
“Oh, you will have your writ.” The table shuddered under Jacobsen’s weight as he drew himself to his full height, “But I warn you, should our paths ever cross again, outside of this shitty little province you call Erenthia, you will not find yourself a happy man.”
“Happiness is fleeting, Demnse Jacobsen, and the path to it strewn with misguided hopes. I walk a different path.” Jaedin turned and motioned for Marcus to follow him out of the room.
I was alone until it rained –
and faltering words on lips were stained.
You taught that words were promises,
in a feast made of your pride.
And I bought them with the silver
in the tears that you denied.
But when all the rain has passed tonight,
taking all the things I’d soon forget.
The one lesson you failed to teach me,
was in the words we’d both regret.
Miranda
Books; the room was filled with them. Three of the four walls were lined with shelves and each shelf was so crowded with books they became geometrical puzzles of art. The room was being barely large enough to hold two people, much less two people and several hundred books. Jaedin felt slightly uneasy in the small space.
One look at the woman sitting on a wooden bench beneath the shelves and suddenly there was little room for feeling anything but a quiet sadness. “Miranda.” Her name filled the small cell, and she looked up. Her eyes were red from weeping, but there were no tears on her cheeks now.
“Master J-jaedin.” There was the slightest quiver in her voice; Jaedin shut his eyes as if to block out the pain wound so tightly into those two words. The name was a prayer to her, a prayer, question, and answer. Two steps brought him to the bench; his fingers brushed the top of her raven black hair. With a small shudder, she leaned into his hand. “I tried, really I did. I tried so hard to do as you asked.”
“I know you did.” Jaedin slowly drew his hand away. “You did all that was asked of you. I just wish…” He paused, “that you had not been forced to endure for so long.”
And now the tears came again. Quiet tears, one after another, falling without sound onto the floor of the room. “Every night…he came to me and f-forced…f-f-forced himself…it was t-t-too much…”
Placing a hand on either side of her face, Jaedin gently raised her gaze to his, “He raped you, Miranda. He raped you in the worst possible way. What he did gives even rape a bad name.” Lips brushed her cheeks, tasting the salt of her tears. “You must be strong for a little longer yet, dearest Miranda.”
***
Although the next destination was only a few minutes away by carriage, Jaedin sent the carriage ahead and struck out on foot. Marcus tailed behind him wordlessly.
Half an hour later, Jaedin paused before a large stone gateway with a hanging sign that read ‘Kytrell’. Motioning Marcus to proceed ahead of him, they passed through the gateway and onto the estate’s grounds. It did not take Jaedin long to find the kitchen. Even the stones that lined the outside of the room were blackened. The door that had once provided the kitchen access to the woodpile was no longer there. Jaedin and Marcus stepped through the empty doorway and into a room filled with the faint aroma of charred pig and burnt spices. Silently, Jaedin paced along the edge of the room, careful not to disturb the wreckage of pottery shards and ash taking up much of the space.
Marcus finally broke the silence, “Are you looking for something, Master Jaedin?”
Instead of answering, Jaedin ran the edge of his walking stick through the ashes, shifting charred black pieces aside. Lowering himself, careful to keep ash from the cuffs of his stark white shirt, Jaedin lifted a small black cylindrical object from amongst the debris. Satisfied, he stood and spoke, “Come Marcus, we have one more stop to make today.” Wrapping the object in a handkerchief, Jaedin pocketed it and led the way back to the carriage.
For the most part, people aren’t captured by an idea that is entirely foreign to them. The words that hit us the hardest, that stay with us, are those that manage to clarify and illuminate thoughts that we are already intimately familiar with. These words are a key that fit a lock we’ve been carving inside ourselves for a long time.
To me, reading someone’s writing, especially if they don’t do much of it, can be more intimate then kissing. (Note – this is a *fictional* story).
I slowly let my skirt fall below my knees, revealing my pink garter and crotchless panties. I bent over, picked up the shirt, and put it on the chair with the rest of my clothes.
“Dance,” he ordered. I slowly began to gyrate my hips, running my hands over my breasts, my stomache, my crotch.
“Take off your bra.” I unhooked the front of the clasp and placed my bra on top of my other clothes.
“Pinch your nipples.” I let my hands roam over my round breasts, stroking my nipples until they were hard. I pinched each nipple between my index finger and thumb.
“Twist.” I twisted.
“Pull.” I pulled.
“Stop. Go answer the door. Don’t put on any clothes. Bring your guest in here.”
I went to the door and opened it. There stood a tall, beautiful, dark haired woman in a long leather coat with a large hand bag. I took her back to the room.
“Tie her up.” Wondering what I would use, I reached for her. She grabbed my wrists, took a pair of handcuffs out of her coat pocket and placed them on my wrists. “Put her on the bed and secure her hands to the headboard.” She tied the handcuffs to the headboard.
“Make her beg.” She took off her coat to reveal she was wearing nothing underneath. She grabbed my right breast and twisted my nipple hard while she bit my left breast. She continued to work my tits with her mouth and moved her hands to my cunt. She parted my lips and slipped a finger inside me. She massaged my clit with her thumb while she moved her fingers in and out of me. I was so hot…and then she stopped. She sat down in a chair, pulled a cigarette out of her coat and lit it. She told me that if my nipples did not stay hard, and my cunt wet, I’d pay. I laughed. She smoked her cigarette and went to the bathroom. When she returned she pinched my nipple and declared it was time for my punishment. I tried to tell her I was still wet, but she would not listen. She tied my legs to the bed so that they were spread wide. She took a clit whip from her bag and began to spank my clit. It stung. My clit burned. It turned me on even more but I wanted her to stop. I asked her very nicely to stop. She laughed. I begged.
“Stop,” came the command. She stopped. “She’s had enough of that for today. Make her come.” She bent over the bed and kissed me. She moved her mouth down my body to my cunt. She gently sucked on my clit and fucked me with her fingers. After just a few minutes, I came.
“Now leave.” She stood and untied me. She kissed me on the mouth, put on her coat, and started to walk out the door. I noticed the clit whip sitting on my chair. I told her she was forgetting it.
“It’s a gift from him, ” she said as she walked out the door.
I went to the computer and typed, “Thanks.”
“I thought you might like it,” he replied. “The money has been deposited into your account. Same time, same place?”
“Of course,” I replied. I turned off my webcam and shut down my computer.
I love being a cyber whore.
~SB
“That’s why the workshops were so life-transforming. We told each student the first impression he made. We weren’t afraid of hurting his feelings. We corrected his every gesture, phrase, and item of clothing, because we knew he wasn’t living up to his potential. None of us is. We get stuck in old thoughts and behavior patterns that may have been effective when we were twelve months or twelve years old, but now only serve to hold us back. And, while those around us may have no problem correcting our minor flaws, they let the big ones slide, because it would mean attacking who we are.
But who are we, really? Just a bundle of good genes and bad genes mixed with good habits and bad habits. And since there’s no gene for coolness or confidence, then being uncool and unconfident are just bad habits, which can be changed with enough guidance and will power.” ~ Neil Strauss, “The Game
***
Honesty, at this level, is difficult to handle. And even harder to expect from those close to you.
I think it is critical to have people in your life that aren’t afraid to kick you in the ass when you find yourself slipping into behavior that diminishes you. Surrounding yourself with the right people will force you be to a better, more complete person.
Note – I’m very stubborn, but I take criticism well. I listen carefully and if it fits in with the person I want to be, I’ll do something about it. But there is a line between direction and demand. Nothing puts my back up quite so quickly as people insisting I change. I want people around me who aren’t afraid to tell me when I’m wrong; I’m not looking for people to reshape me into what they think is right.
Do you have someone in your life who pushes you to correct the big flaws, along with the minor ones?
Socially, the first two years of college did not differ much from my high school days. My time spent on-line decreased as I spent more time in classes and hanging out with the other guys in the dormitory. Still, it didn’t take me long to figure out how to check for other users on the college network and send talk requests to random women to see who would respond.
I met with some success, seducing two or three of those girls into rather intimate conversations. This is how I found NE.
We only spoke once or twice, but I managed to get her to admit she was getting turned on – no mean feat considering she was in a computer lab surrounded by friends. Although we only had a couple of conversations during my freshman year, her name stuck with me over the next few years.
Midway through my junior year, I began to come into my own as a qualified social human being. I had weaned myself away from the on-line world. Through the guidance (and corruption) of a good friend, I got drunk for the first time and was forced into situations where I had to prove my value as someone worth hanging out with. I learned how to turn my quirks into interesting personality traits. I gained confidence. I helped start an underground literary magazine. I DJ’d for the college radio station. Those years spent seducing and manipulating women on-line had honed my intuitive skills – it was easy to make people feel comfortable around me.
The night I met NE in person, I was sitting on the steps of my dormitory and smoking a clove. We shared a mutual friend, SB, so when it was time to head back inside, we invited NE to join us. I knew who she was, but I wasn’t sure she had made the connection.
She had. As I later found out, after our on-line conversations she had taken to keeping an eye out for me (especially at lunch where I would often sit along and enjoy a good book while I ate). She knew my habits and friends. It would have been disconcerting if it wasn’t weirdly flattering.
As mentioned, I had a knack for creating a comfortable social setting and NE was looking for a hiding spot (she was dealing with her own social issues) which made hanging out in my room ideal. I spent the rest of the semester getting to know her while playing cards and just goofing off. I even had a movie date with her.
The interesting thing was, I never felt pressed to do anything. I had past the point of needing social validation, so enjoying her company was purely gravy. When we all left for the semester break, she gave me her number and said I should call.
Several weeks into the break, I did. Her mother said she wasn’t available, so I left a message requesting she get in touch with me. She never did. I was rather annoyed, but I wasn’t going to pester her.
For my last semester at college, I got my own room. This room would quickly became the social hang-out for my group of friends. Everyone had the room combination, I always had good music playing (the dawn of MP3s), I didn’t mind people smoking in the room, and I had a fold-out table that was easy to play cards on. I never pushed NE on why she hadn’t called but I did distance myself from her a bit and took to pretending to be upset with her, which drove her crazy. Each evening around 1am, when I would kick everyone out, she would hang back to spend a few minutes alone with me. Minutes became hours, and talking became something else.
But I never gave her as much as she wanted. I would give her long intimate back rubs. Gradually I upped the ante, teasing her until I knew she wanted, needed, more. And then I would send her back to her own room. Night after night of this left her confused – and hooked. After one particularly late night, she asked if she could sleep over.
I relented. I told her she could sleep over, but she’d have to sleep on the floor.
She did.