College Girls Ch. 01

"Ah, hi," he said. "This is a bit embarrassing ... Could I ask you to, ah, throw me my clothes?"

Susan smiled, despite herself. "Sure."

She picked up his jeans, pullover and blue-and-white striped boxers and tossed them to him. "I'm heading over to the bathroom to take a shower. The room's all yours for fifteen minutes or so."

"Right. Thanks. Look ... I hope we didn't disturb you last night."

His voice was tentative. He evidently wasn't sure what she'd seen or heard. Susan shivered a little.

"No," she said. "No problem."

* * *

Susan set the water as hot as it would go and let it stream down her hair and her back. She closed her eyes as the water ran over her butt and her legs. The heat and the water's smooth caress summoned images from the night before: Kate flipping her hair out of the way before she took Peter's cock in her mouth, the ripple in the flesh of her bottom as her body slammed down on his, the small high-pitched cries that came faster and faster ...

Damn it, she thought, I'm burning up inside. I really don't have time for this right now. Nevertheless, she let her soapy fingers stray down between her legs, massaging her outer lips, the way she always liked to start when she touched herself. The she turned around and let the water sting her breasts and bead up on her rising nipples ...

Oh, hell, she thought. I really have to get to class. She pulled her hand away with a sigh. Maybe later. She dried herself and dug through her duffle bag for a sweatshirt and the loosest pair of jeans she had. She didn't want anything pulling against her crotch today. It was going to be hard enough to stay focused on chemistry without any other distractions.

She straightened herself up and walked back into the hall – and found herself looking right at Peter as he stepped out of the men's bathroom. They were practically nose-to-nose. They stared at each other for a moment, then they both started to laugh.

"I'm Peter," he said.

Susan smiled. "Susan."

"Kate's still sleeping. Do you think I should wake her up?"

"No, she doesn't have any classes for a while. Let her snooze. You wouldn't like her first thing in the morning anyway." Susan put her hand to her mouth. "I'm sorry. That was catty. I just meant that she's usually a bit testy when she gets up."

They kept looking at each other. Neither moved.

"Anyway, I've got to go," Susan said. "Nice to meet you."

"Ten o'clock class?"

Susan nodded.

"Yeah, me too," Peter said. He hesitated, looking a bit unsure of himself for the first time. "Ah, do you want to get some breakfast first?"

Susan's mind went blank. She couldn't think of what to say. She looked at her watch. "Okay. We'll need to be quick, though."

* * *

Susan blinked as the morning sunlight washed over her. The day was going to be chilly but gorgeous.

"It won't be easy to concentrate on statistical mechanics on a morning like this," Peter said, mirroring Susan's thoughts. "I love the fall here. All the colors and the quality of the light, everything so clean and crisp."

Susan looked at him. Who was this guy?

"How did you meet Kate?" she asked, feeling the need to keep him grounded.

Peter looked a little embarrassed. "Actually, she came by looking for one of my suite-mates. He wasn't around and there was this party she wanted to go to ... "

"So you got lucky?"

Peter actually blushed. "Yeah, I guess so."

The thought crossed Susan's mind that maybe it was Kate who had gotten lucky. She wondered what the two of them had talked about. Probably not statistical mechanics. Okay, that was catty too.

After another minute they reached the cafeteria. Susan got some yogurt and granola. Peter piled French toast on his plate.

"Sit outside?" he asked.

"Sure."

They found a table and basked in the sunlight for a moment.

"You're a freshman?" he asked.

"Is it that obvious?"

He shook his head. "Not particularly. It's just that I think I would have noticed you before now if you weren't."

Susan smiled. "Was that a compliment?"

Peter blushed again. It was sort of endearing, especially in a big guy like him, albeit a bit geeky.

"Yes," he said. "Yes it was."

He looked awkward, not at all the powerful, confident lover of the night before.

"Do you know what you want to study?" he asked.

Every guy she'd met since she started college a few months earlier had tried out that line. But, for some reason, she didn't mind it coming from Peter.

"Astronomy, I think. Although everyone keeps telling me how dismal the job prospects are."

"Hey, I'm in anthropology. It can't be worse than that. I started in economics, then urban planning. I can't quite make up my mind."

That seemed odd to Susan, who had always valued focus and self-discipline ... last night not withstanding. "How come?"

"I'm sort of interested in everything. And when else am I going to get a chance to study semiotics or industrial design or Nordic sagas? But it also means that I'll be stuck here for a fifth year."

Peter knocked back his last slice of French toast. "I'm sorry, I really have to go. I've got a mid-term in my first class."

Susan felt a little pang. She wasn't quite ready for breakfast to be over. But she said: "Sure, no problem. Good luck with it."

"Yeah." He looked rueful. "I didn't get as much studying done last night as I'd planned."

Susan laughed. "I'll bet."

He stood up and was suddenly awkward again. "Look, this is a bit weird. But can I see you again?"

Susan felt her cheeks flush. She should have seen this coming. Maybe she'd even wanted him to ask. But she couldn't, she just couldn't. This guy had been in bed with her roommate an hour ago.

"No," she said. "I really don't think that would be a good idea."

Peter stood very still. "Yeah. You're probably right. I'll see you around, okay?"

"Sure," she said. "Thanks for breakfast."

He nodded and was on his way, his tight butt moving quickly out of sight in the hubbub of the morning rush.Damn, she thought. And damn Kate for spotting him first. Susan shook her head. There are a thousand other guys on this campus just like him. She nodded resolutely, then wavered. Well, maybe notjust like him ...

* * *

Once Kate started talking there was no stopping her. It was Peter this, Peter that. They were going to a club one night, a party the next. He didn't really seem like a club guy to Susan – that was probably Kate's influence. But despite all the narrative from Kate, Susan hadn't actually seen Peter since their hurried breakfast two weeks earlier. Kate was gone every other night it seemed, leaving Susan to herself more often than she liked. She'd go to sleep after some uninspired studying, half-hoping that she'd be woken up by Kate and Peter coming back to her room. She would lie half-asleep for hours, finally having to wake up and touch herself. She remembered how Peter's hands had moved over Kate's body, lifting the soft weight of her breasts, digging his fingers into the pliant flesh of her hips. But did she really want to see them doing it again? Would that make her feel any better?

Susan lay back on her bed and stared up at the ceiling. She needed to get over this. Soon. Her work was suffering. She was losing sleep and moping around her room far too much. Her social life wasn't going anywhere.

Her thoughts were interrupted by the phone. Her hand had drifted between her legs and she pulled it away abruptly and picked up the receiver.

"Hello?"

"Hi, is that Susan?" A male voice. "It's Peter. Remember me?"

Susan smiled, despite herself. "Yes, Peter, of course I do. Do you want to speak with Kate? I'm afraid she's out right now."

"No, actually, I was looking for you. I have a physics exam on Thursday and I was hoping you could study with us tonight."

"Us?"

"A study group from the class. We're meeting in my suite."

Susan thought about it. It seemed okay to be with Peter as long as there were other people around. Kate couldn't really object to that.

"Sure. What time?"

"Most of the guys are showing up around eight, but whenever is fine."

"Eight's good. I'll see you then."

Peter thanked her and gave her his room number. After she'd hung up, Susan started worrying again. What should I wear? How formal was this going to be? No sense in dressing up, she decided; it wasn't a date. Although maybe some of the other guys might turn out to be interesting. She decided on a sweater and a soft denim skirt and sandals. At the last minute she put on a little lipstick. That was normal enough. Kate always did it when she went visiting, and when it came to that sort of thing, Kate's expertise was inarguable.

Ten minutes later Susan was knocking on Peter's door. She took a deep breath, wondering what it would be like to see him again. In the last two weeks her image of him had coalesced into a sort of idealized male face and body, and she knew that the real guy couldn't possibly measure up to her transmuted recollections.

But he did. The door opened and there he was, wearing a black t-shirt and jeans, his dark hair falling across flashing grey eyes that stared at her just long enough to make her feel uncomfortable.

"Hey, Susan," he finally said. "Glad you could come. You look terrific." He finally stopped staring and looked a little embarrassed. "Come in, please."

Susan stepped inside the suite's common room, which was more or less identical to her own, albeit with a larger television. The three other guys in the room were introduced as Vic, Paul and something Italian-sounding she couldn't remember. They were non-descript upperclassmen with nervous smiles and baggy sweatshirts. They weren't too helpful when it came to special relativity problems, either. She could see why Peter had wanted her around. The subject happened to be one she'd been interested in and studied a bit over the summer. She enjoyed showing off and acting wise and patient, and all the guys seemed grateful for the help. Peter was a perfect gentleman, getting her a Coke and sticking to business. But she did catch him sneaking looks at her once or twice (which wouldn't have happened if she hadn't been looking athim, of course).

Susan was having fun, and she was a bit disappointed when one of Peter's suite-mates came in and said that he wanted to watch something on television. Vic, Paul, and whoever the other guy was decided to knock off for the night and watch with him.

"Is that it, then?" Susan asked Peter.

He frowned. "A couple more problems? We haven't done the stuff from the section on time dilation."

"Okay, that's pretty easy. It's the same algebraic equation with a square root that you use for mass increase."

"Let's go to my room. It's kind of loud out here."

He headed down the narrow hallway before she could say anything. Peter opened a door and held it for her. She hesitated for a second, but what could she do? She went inside and didn't say anything when he closed the door behind them. The room was tiny, just a twin bed, a desk with a chair, a bookshelf, and a Bauhaus poster on the wall. This must be where Kate was spending so many of her nights recently, Susan realized.

"You have a single," she said, stating the obvious.

"There are quite a few of them in this dorm. Some compensation for the plumbing not working half the time, I guess."

Susan pulled the chair out from the desk and sat down. Peter sat casually on the bed across from her.

"I think you intimidated my friends a little," he said.

"Yeah, I'm pretty scary," Susan agreed.

The smiled at each other.

"Time dilation?" she prompted.

"Right."

They worked one of the problems, but Peter had the equation upside down.

"No, look," Susan said, getting up from the chair and sitting next to him. She drew the right graph in his notebook. "The total velocity can't ever be faster than light, okay? So the velocity term has to be in the denominator."

Sitting so close, Susan couldn't help noticing that he smelled pleasantly of soap. He must have taken a shower right before she came over. Well, so had she. Their shoulders touched as she leaned over towards him. She drew back quickly. He looked up, his face only inches from hers. She knew that she looked frightened, terrified, probably. Then his face came even closer. She couldn't move, couldn't react. His lips touched hers, light as air, just a warm contact of pliant surfaces. His arm went around her and pulled her against him. His lips were so soft, the scent of his hair so clean. She was lost, collapsing into him, encircled by that strong arm.

How had this happened? How had she ended up alone with him? Whatever was happening here, it had to stop. Somehow, she made her hands push against his chest, gently moving him away. She closed her eyes and collected herself for a moment.

"No. You're Kate's boyfriend, remember? I like Kate. She drives me crazy sometimes, but I like her. I don't want to hurt her."

Peter looked at her intently. "Do you really think I matter to Kate? She's so ... I don't know. She has her toy of the moment, and it's me right now."

Susan shook her head. "No. She likes you. She talks about you all the time."

"Really?"

"Really. And if you did break up – think how awkward it would make things between Kate and me if you and I started going out. And I have to live with her for the rest of the year, no matter what happens."

Peter put his hand over hers. Susan could feel the subtle pressure of his pulse; her own heartbeat raced to keep up with it. He leaned over to kiss her again.

"No," Susan said, pulling back. The vehemence of her reply startled both of them. "I don't want to have to lie to her. I hate lying." She took her hand away. "I don't think we should touch each other." She blinked back tears. "Not like this, anyway."

"Just physics problems then?"

She tried to smile. "You can't get much more platonic than that."

"How about a foot massage?"

"What?"

"A foot massage. My sister is a physical therapist. She taught me a bit. But I could use some practice."

This was getting a little silly. Where should she draw the line? Would Kate care if Peter wiggled her toes, or whatever? No. Her conscience felt pretty clear about that. And it would keep him off the bed at least.

"Sure," she said. "That would be nice. Should I take my shoes off?"

"I'll do it."

Peter got down on his knees in front of her and unfastened the straps of her sandals. Then he began to run his thumbs along the inside edge of her left arch. She couldn't remember ever having gotten this kind of massage before. It felt just lovely. Maybe it wasn't the massage itself so much as the intimacy of the act. He drew his fingers across her sole.

"Mmm," she purred.

Would it feel as good if someone other than Peter was doing it? One of his non-descript roommates, for instance? No, she decided. She looked down at him, mostly seeing tousled dark hair. He was concentrating on what he was doing, his face – what she could see of it – was composed, serious. His hands were relaxed and assured, though. She liked that. Her high school boyfriends always seemed so rushed and nervous when they touched her. She felt as if she was missing something with them, like they were skipping the best parts, whatever they were. She closed her eyes and leaned back contentedly. He pulled methodically on all the little bones down there she'd never given a moment's thought to before now. He stroked the skin along her ankles. Someone was practicing an instrument somewhere. A clarinet? Or maybe an oboe? It was so faint she couldn't quite tell. Whoever it was had started with scales, but now had moved on to something soft and haunting, like a shepherd playing to himself on a still summer evening.

Funny, when she'd first seen Peter he'd been rolling around on the bed with Kate, and he'd driven Susan almost insane. Now he was making her feel so completely different, so calm and dreamy. She was glad that Peter wasn't saying anything. Words, even his, would ruin the feeling. But the music was perfect.

She looked down at him again. He seemed to feel her gaze and tilted his head up. Their eyes met. His hands stopped where they were, lightly holding her left ankle. The music rose into a high arabesque. She felt open, serene, totally sexy.

She moved her legs apart.

Peter's eyes widened. His lips parted and his tongue ran across them once. His hands released her foot and moved up along the insides of her calves, still gentle and unhurried. Susan closed her eyes again, listening, feeling. Smooth fingers caressed her bare skin, drawing little circles along its surface. It was as if every place he touched came alive. She was sure she was flushing: her face was getting warm; so was her upper chest.

His fingers were brushing the insides of her thighs now. She was so sensitive there ... she could barely stand it, her flesh quivered with each touch, little prickles of heat radiated up her thighs to the place where they met, each one adding to the last until she was so warm and slippery she couldn't sit still. She wriggled her hips a little and Peter's breathing deepened. He inhaled her excitement and his hands grew bolder. He pushed upwards at the edges of her skirt. She didn't move at first, then she lifted her hips off the bed, just a little, and the skirt slid back, bunching up at her waist.

Her panties were exposed now. They were lime green, sheer, but nothing special. She hadn't given them any real thought when she'd dressed that morning. But now ... they were damp with her arousal, almost translucent, and pulled taut against her swollen pussy lips. Could Peter tell how wet she was? She wasn't embarrassed. She wanted him to know. She slid forwards, stretching her panties tighter against her pussy. The thin fabric outlined her outer lips and dipped into the space between. Her little tuft of chestnut pubic hair made a small, soft bulge, and a few hairs escaped above the waistband.

Peter's fingertips slid higher up her thighs, leaving faint pink traces. They found the bottom of her hip bones, and for the first time his hands hesitated. There was a new note in his breathing, a deep, animal rasp. Susan realized that she was making almost the same sounds. Peter's index finger trailed downwards across the front of her panties until it was directly over one of her outer lips.

Susan began to tremble, and her arms suddenly seemed too weak to support her. She could feel her breasts heaving, the heat flowing from his hands up into her belly, her chest, her overheated face. She just had to take her sweater offnow. She leaned forward and pulled it over her head. Peter watched her, not sure how to react. She undid two buttons of her blouse, then shook her head. That was enough.

Peter looked back to the dark place between her legs. He stroked her gently for a moment then pushed one finger against the moist fabric until it slipped between her folds. A tremor ran through Susan's body. She looked down and saw Peter's finger buried part way inside her, held back only by the thin cotton. Her rapid breathing was making her light-headed. She reached down and put her hand on Peter's cheek, then tangled her fingers in his dark, curly hair. He began to lean forward, to move towards her.

No!That wasn't what she'd meant. She'd just wanted to touch him. But his face moved irresistibly closer to her pussy. She was about to say something, to let him know that this had gone far enough, when his lips brushed her inner thigh. She cried out so loudly she was sure someone in the common room must have heard her. Peter moved his hands so that they were holding her hips, his fingers sliding under the lower hem of her panties, digging into her bare flesh. He was kissing her thighs, moving closer to her center. Her hand was still tangled in his hair; she could easily push him away. But she felt his warm breath against her skin, saw his nostrils flare as he breathed her scent in. Now his tongue was tickling the straining fabric of her panties.