A Gamer-Girl's Escape

Yvette nodded and headed back to her usual spot by the console. "Well it's nice to officially meet you, Mohammed. And for the record, I think it's a nice name. I'm guessing you don't like nicknames like 'Moe' or whatnot?"

He nodded. "Yeah, those never felt right. Thanks for asking."

She sat and resumed her game, checking her menu to equip some new weapons and armor she'd bought. "So what are you reading tonight?"

He smiled. "Well, I'm rereading Neal Stephenson's stuff right now, the Snow Crash guy? This one's called 'The Cobweb', something he wrote under a pen name with one of his relatives. Kind of a gulf war spy thriller thing. Then after a few chapters of that tonight I've allotted half an hour to listen to some 'Extra History' videos I'd heard about that chronicle the events that led up to World War One. Fascinating stuff, but also seriously tragic."

She nods. "Those are great videos, I've seen them. Their other channel is 'Extra Credits' where they talk a lot about video game design. You might find it enlightening."

His eyebrows rose. "I will make a note of that, thank you. Shall I let you get back to your game?"

"Yes, thank you."

***

Day 4:

"Do these lights even work?" Mohamed flicked the wall switch off and on a few times with no visible result.

"Apparently not." Yvette shrugged as her team of heroes wandered the plains in search of a friendly Chocobo to tame. "I kinda like it like this, though. Makes it more peaceful."

Mohammed dropped his bag on his sofa and fished out a large biology textbook and a reading light that clipped to the book's cover. "True enough, but trying to read in the dark without enough light is rough on the eyes." He gestured to his new light source. "I hope this doesn't bother you?"

"Nah, it's fine." A new fight began on the television -- still no Chocobos to be found. Ah well, one would show up eventually.

For a few minutes they just sat there quietly, the game's exquisite soundtrack bringing back memories of the first time Yvette had played this game many years ago. Finally a Chocobo did indeed show up, and she successfully tamed it. This enabled her to safely cross an otherwise deadly swamp by riding on the large bird's back like a horse. "Finally!"

"So Yvette," Mohammed said as he looked up and turned off his little light, "I wanted to ask you something, if that's okay."

She hit the menu button to pause the game, set down her controller, and turned in her seat to face him. "Yeah, alright. What about?"

He motioned to the console and the TV. "I still feel bad for being so out of line about the whole 'proxy goals' thing I said the other day. Just... inexcusably rude of me. So in an effort to do better and maybe make it up to you somehow, I'd like to get a better idea of the whole video game thing. What is it about games like this that you like? What's the appeal? Part of me wonders if I'm missing out on something good."

She smiled. "How big of a part?"

He put a hand to his chest, pretending to be offended. "Why Miss Goble! That's a rather personal question, wouldn't you say?" He smiled, and it was a nice smile even in this low light. "Let's say it's more a part of me today than before I met you. You've got me curious, what can I say?"

She laughed. "Well you've already said 'I'm sorry' a lot lately, so I don't think there's any need to say that any more for now." She shifted in her seat, contemplating the question. "Well, there's a lot to like, but for me personally? I mean, I like this one, Final Fantasy VII, because of the story and characters."

He looked surprised. "What, there's an actual narrative going on?"

"Oh yeah!" She picked up her controller and pointed at the screen. "The spiky blond guy with the big sword? He's a soldier who went AWOL and fell in with eco-terrorists. Long story short, one of his ex-military buddies discovered they were part-alien and has decided to use their alien powers to destroy the planet, which naturally our hero and his friends have to stop. I mean, there's a lot more to it than that, but that's the elevator pitch. There's themes of identity, the environment, corporate greed, confronting mortality -- it's some deep stuff, and the ensemble cast is really fun."

He nodded. "I thought all games were simple things like 'you're a guy with a gun, go shoot all the drug dealers' and that was it."

Yvette slapped her knee. "I know that one! NARC, from 1988!"

"Wait what? I just made that up!" Mohammed looked thoroughly confused.

"Nope. Real game. Top-tier graphics for the time, rocket launchers making body parts fly everywhere." She grinned. "Try again, I bet no matter what kind of weird shit you come up with, there's already a game for it."

He looked skeptical, but sat back and thought for a minute. "Okay. How about... you play a dumpy middle-aged guy trying to get laid? I can't see how you'd make a game about that, jokes about 'joysticks' notwithstanding."

She snorted. "Leisure Suit Larry, 1987 -- and they made over a dozen sequels over the next twenty years. Come on, man. You can do better than that."

"Wait, how would that work? You press a button to grab a girl's butt or something?"

She held up her controller. "Games can get a lot more complicated than that. Try again."

"Alright. Something weird and unlikely. Okay, I've got one." He ticked off bullet points on his fingers. "You play a journalist, taking pictures of everything with your camera, but you're in space and your best friend is... um... a talking pig or something." He looked triumphant. "I pulled that completely out of thin air, there's no way that's a game."

She snorted, tapped on her phone, and held it up the search results to show him the game's box art. "So you don't think I'm lying. 'Beyond Good & Evil', 2003. Considered an all-time classic. Although to be fair, the pig is more of a pig-like alien, named Pey'j."

He looked closely at the image. "Christ. Okay, let's get surreal." He looked up and pursed his lips. "Okay. You play a secret agent...um... but you don't actually shoot or stab anyone. Instead, you have to save the planet through the power..." He paused for effect and made a dramatic pose. "...of interpretive dance! There's no way someone made that."

She didn't even hesitate. "Elite Beat Agents. 2006." She laughed at the look on his face. "One level has you stopping a thunderstorm by dancing to 'September' by Earth, Wind, And Fire, and then another level has the agents dancing to 'You're The Inspiration' by Chicago to summon the ghost of a little girl's dead dad because he promised to be home in time for Christmas. God's truth, that's a real game." She grinned at his agape expression. "There's a game out there called 'I Am Bread' where you play a piece of bread whose life goal is to become toast, or 'Untitled Goose Game' where you control a mean-ass goose who just wants to make a bunch of human's lives miserable. Just like there's books about any subject you can imagine, you can make anything into a video game. And that's one reason why I love video games. Every time it seems like things have gotten stale, someone comes up with a brand new idea that changes everything and redefines the whole industry."

She held up the controller. "And here's one more thing with video games. With books or movies, you're a passive observer, watching the narrative play out. With games, you control the narrative with your actions. Depending on what I do in Final Fantasy VII, there are characters and their subplots that I might never meet or experience. Or here's another example. In this game, there's a point where the main character goes on a date in an amusement park -- and depending how you'd been interacting with the other characters up to that point, there are different people you might end up going on that date with, which changes the story in significant ways."

Mohammed thought about this. "Interesting. I need to find some books on the history of video games, sounds like."

Yvette grinned. "I appreciate that you're taking this seriously enough that you're willing to learn something new."

He held up his tablet. "That's the entire reason I read -- to learn something new. Thanks, Yvette."

"You're very welcome."

***

Day 5:

"I'm really glad you're here, Mohammed," she called over her shoulder as she heard the door open. "I think my roommate Tori is starting a sex cult and I have no one to talk to about it."

A new voice responded. "Well, that's first-year students for ya. Happens every fall semester, yes sir and ma'am."

She turned to see a large middle-aged man with a thick blonde beard walking in behind Mohammed with a ladder. "Sorry to intrude, miss. Your friend Mohammed here told me how the light fixtures were busted, and I figured I'd come on over to fix it." He set up the ladder below one of the fixtures and waved in greeting. "Name's John Jackerman. I work in the campus physical plant, so all this kinda stuff is my job. I'll be out of your way in about ten minutes, I reckon."

Mohammed shook his hand. "Thanks, John. I mean, we normally just hang out with the lights out anyway, but I figured it was better to have it looked it, in case there was loose wiring or something."

"Well I do appreciate you bringing it to my attention. Very conscientious of you." From the way John put an emphasis on that word, Yvette guessed that it was one of John's highest compliments. Screwdriver-drill in hand, the engineer climbed the ladder and started his work.

Yvette turned in her seat to look at the man. "Wait, you said this happens a lot? The sex cult thing?"

Mohammed laughed as John nodded. "Well, maybe not actual cults per se, but us staffers call this dorm 'Hormone Hall' for a reason. I mean hell, there's jizz stains and worse to clean up in every dorm, don't get me wrong. But Howard Hall seems to get everyone hot n' bothered more than regular -- especially if they dump a lotta first-year students there, which they usually do on account of the rooms in here bein' a little smaller than the other dorms." He pulled off a light fixture cover. "Can one of y'all take this and set it on the floor by the wall? Thank ya kindly. But yeah, I've walked in on more fuckin' than Hugh Hefner in the glory days of the Playboy Mansion, I reckon."

Yvette laughed. "Did you ever join in?"

John just laughed. "Naw. I'm fifty-three, and I've always preferred folks my own age. Besides, my dear lovely Anisha would no doubt see me walk in the front door with some stupid grin on my jaw, lipstick on my neck, suspicious stains 'round my junk, and she'd just rip my wanger straight off. No ma'am, I'm a one-woman man and I'm right fine with that arrangement."

She sighed. "I tried talking to the Resident Advisor, but she said that students were 'welcome to explore their sexuality in a safe environment.' When I tried to explain that it was costing me sleep and the use of my own room, she just ignored me."

Mohammed exhaled in commiseration. "When I complained about Harvey, all I got back was a vague apology that they couldn't do anything about him. I did some digging, and it turns out that he's the son of some rich alumni schmuck who's donating millions to the college, so they're not going to rock the boat unless he starts actually assaulting people rather than just acting creepy and gross."

John worked silently for a minute and then descended the steel ladder. "I can't help any on the wank-brat problem -- yeah, I know all about Harvey, and his dad. Greasy fuckers, both of 'em. But If it helps any, the whole 'sex cult' thing gets easier after the Thanksgiving break. We're still in that initial rush of a bunch of kids bein' on their own for the first time and in an almighty hurry to dip the wick or get dipped, if you catch me." He picked up the fixture cover and set it aside on a high shelf. "Maybe it's all the tryp-to-phan in the Thanksgiving Turkey calmin' folks down or somethin' but come December, mark my words, the madhouse orgies start to simmer down. December finals probably got somethin' to do with it too. Can't rightly practice your verb declensions with someone's turgid tallywacker down yer throat, after all."

He pulled off his electrician gloves. "Okay, I need a favor from y'all. Mohammed, you were saying you two are the only folks who come in here anymore, so I need you to keep an eye on that fixture cover for me. There is indeed a problem with the wiring here. I've fixed it so nothin' bad will happen for now, but it'll take too long to fix it all proper tonight, and I don't have the right tools on me. So I'll be back here during the day tomorrow and take care of it while y'all are at classes." He gave them both a smirk. "Now don't you going startin' no sex cults tonight or nothin', all right? Wouldn't wanna have to hose the room down before I start my work." He made a snorting laugh at his own joke and hefted his ladder under one arm. "I'll catch you two later. Have a good one."

After he left, Yvette went back to her usual spot on the central sofa. "What would you even call a sex cult full of book nerds and gamer nerds? Instead of Dungeons & Dragons, it's 'Pixels & Pages'?"

Mohammed laughed and stood over her, waggling a finger. "Now now, you heard the man. No sex culting in here tonight. It wouldn't do to inconvenience the man who's helping us to maintain our secret hideout."

"Awwwwwww!" Yvette mock-pouted. "But I wanna! I wanna enslave people with my feminine wiles so they'll buy me expensive designer shoes!"

"Now you see here, miss," Mohammed said with a stern expression while doing a passable imitation of John's mixture of southern and midwestern accents. "Just you wait 'till after Thanksgiving like the good man said. All the starter sex cults will have tuckered themselves out, and then you can grab the leftovers and make yerself a man-harem with all the fixin's."

"But what if I don't wanna wait 'till Turkey Day?" She stood up and got in his face, making a deliberately silly show of stomping her feet like a petulant child. "I wanna get my pussy licked nowwww!"

Mohammed opened his mouth to respond, but absolutely nothing came out. He blinked in stunned silence.

Sensing the sudden awkwardness in the room, Yvette mentally rewound and reviewed what she'd just said -- and her eyes got wide. She was at once very aware of how she was only inches away from him. From his face. From his lips.

She cleared her throat and turned towards the couch. "Um. Metaphorically speaking."

Mohammed stood there alone in silence for a moment before a full-body shiver snapped him out of it. He returned to his sofa and sat down, quietly putting in his earbuds and staring intently at his tablet.

Yvette caught herself staring at the bulge that pressed up against Mohammed's zipper. Forcing herself to look away, she returned to her game, turned up the sound on the TV, and the festive theme music of Final Fantasy VII's "Gold Saucer" amusement park filled the dark dorm lounge.

No one said a word for the next three hours. Yvette desperately wanted to say something, but had no idea where to start. She knew what she wanted, but the idea of saying it out loud terrified her.

Eventually Mohammed checked the time on his phone, packed up his books and tablet, and quietly left.

Yvette stared at the television and silently cursed her cowardice. She took a minute to save her game's progress, then unhooked her console from the television, packed everything up, and made her way to her third-floor room.

She unlocked her door, and inside it was lit with only a few small candles, giving the space a soft glow. There were three people there, their features shrouded in the low light. One of them was Tori, who was prone face-down on her bed, grunting into her pillow as some unknown man loomed over her and methodically spread her buttocks to slip his rod inside her ass. The candlelight reflected off the lube coating his length as he pulled out, and the pair groaned in stereo as he slid back into her.

The other man was standing nearby watching, a bottle of lube in his hand. He was stroking himself to a very respectable erection that was already glistening with clear slick gel. He turned to look at her, but Yvette couldn't see his face in the shadows. She didn't want to see his face.

Tori had taken no notice of her roommate's entrance, and Yvette couldn't blame her. If I had a thick one in my ass, I wouldn't care about anything else either, she thought as she stared at the shadowy face a few feet away. He was still stroking himself, watching her.

She closed her eyes and took it all in. The sound of Tori and her mystery lover grunting. The faint squeak of Tori's bedsprings. The deep breathing and the sound of lubed skin against skin from the man in front of her. The gentle smell of the scented candles. The heavy scent of Tori's no-doubt drenched pussy mixed with the natural musk of two amorous strangers. The wind whistling past their window. Then new sounds came through the wall, a new trio of voices. "Oh god, he's inside me! Yes!" "You gonna fuck both of us tonight, big man? Please?", and a deep-voiced man groaning and growling in time to the thump of their bed's headboard against that thin wall.

It was like dangling a sizzling steak in front of a starved prisoner. Yvette opened her eyes and made a decision.

She turned away and carefully set down her gaming console on her desk. She kicked off her sneakers. Leaving on her blouse and bra, she undid her belt and pulled her sensible blue jeans down off her thighs. She stepped out of them, and then looked down. She was wearing simple panties. Nothing formal, nothing fancy. Neither dowdy "grannie panties" nor sexy lingerie. Just panties. They were robin's egg blue, though it was hard to see that in this light. She pulled them down her legs and dropped them to the floor.

Staring at the wall on her side of the room, listening to the sound of Tori mewling with delight at each new violation of her ass, Yvette walked over towards her bed. She picked up her two pillows, and dropped them into the middle of the floor. Her knees dropped down on one and she put the other pillow behind her. Without a word she bent forward and lifted her ass into the air, resting on her arms crossed in front of her on the floor.

She didn't have to wait long. She heard the sound of footsteps behind her. The sound of the lube bottle placed carefully on the floor nearby. A hand just barely touched her ass, hesitating. She answered by lifting her hips higher, pushing her soft cheeks into his grasp. A finger slipped into her pussy, and she did nothing to indicate this was a problem. A second finger joined it, and a small affirming groan escaped her lips.

After a few seconds of this, the fingers withdrew and she felt his palms on her hips. His hands were shaking, as if he was unable to believe was was about to happen. She could relate. This wouldn't be her first cock, but she remembered how nervous she was when her first time was about to happen. Was it this man's first time? It looked like he'd been waiting his turn to fuck Tori. Had he fucked Tori or any of her friends in here before? Was he an experienced lover, or was he a shy first-year like herself who'd never imagined that some mysterious black girl would silently beg him to fuck her? Did it matter? No, it really didn't.

She heard a deep breath behind her, and she was at once filled with thick heat. It was wonderful, it was delicious, but her thoughts were entirely empty of anything beyond physical need. This wasn't romance. It certainly wasn't love. It was just cock. Maybe that was enough. It was what she wanted in that moment. Her nameless partner gave it to her, and it felt so good going in. It felt good sliding out. His hands were warm on her hips, and they slid forward under her blouse to cup her bra-encased breasts as he rammed her.