Cleaning Duty Ch. 03 - Yuletide Trysts

The rain had passed during the night. I woke to the sun peeking through the blinds and Meghan dreaming upon my shoulder. I ran my nose through her matted, blue hair, drinking in the aromas of old shampoo and the previous night's sweat.

My hand crept beneath the tangle of blankets. No bra, the T-shirt I had lent her had ridden up to her bellybutton. I found the gym shorts still in place. They had finally dried, her series of orgasms now just stains upon her panties and my futon.

I cradled her rib cage, maneuvering her off my shoulder and onto her back. I glued a lucky hand to her abs. The palm sweated against their soft warmth.

She woke with a groan and a yawn. Her eyes fluttered open, wincing at the daylight. Through her sleepy daze, she saw me watching over her. Recognition spread a smile across her face. "Mmm...Good morning!" she whispered.

"Did you sleep okay?"

"Mmm-hmm. What's the time?"

"It's not even six. It's hours until either of us has to be anywhere."

"Good...I just want to roll back over until January..."

My palm made small circles upon her abs. "It was a great night, wasn't it?"

"It was definitely a new one for me."

I cupped her cheek in my hand and kissed her lips. She had stale morning breath. Then again, so did I. Neither of us took the taste too well. We giggled and rose onto our haunches, scrubbing the saliva from our chins.

Meghan said, "I think we both skipped teeth brushing in all the excitement."

"Oh, shit! I don't have an extra brush for you."

"Uh-oh. Is it cool if I use yours?"

"I guess if I'm going to catch cooties, the damage is already done, right?"

She dodged my lips but let me kiss her scalp on the way to the bathroom. She got a shower while she was in there, her second since arriving yesterday afternoon. She emerged in her sweat-clothes, still soggy from the storm, and let me have my turn.

In the shower, I scrubbed the flakes of dried sperm from my groin and legs. I spent a few extra minutes soaping my cock and balls. I lathered up my shaft, thinking about how good it had felt, jacking off with Meghan beside me. No lubricant but a delicious tongue and pair of lips. The warmth of her skin. The hard buds of her nipples. The high pitch of her gasps. That brief taste of her moistened pubes.

Body washed and teeth brushed, I exited the bathroom to find Meghan flipping pancakes in the kitchenette. I watched her from behind, my aggravated cock splitting a seam in my jeans.

I curled a hand around her shoulder and guided her lips to my own. She let the batter bubble in the pan as we lashed tongues. She eased into my coital embrace until she felt the head of my dick poking her hip.

She broke the kiss with a giggle. "Adam..."

"What? It missed you in there," I whispered and closed in upon her mouth.

She stopped me with a palm to the chest. "Let's just, like, ease up a little. Okay?"

I furrowed my brow, already feeling my testicles turning shades of purple. "What're you talking about?"

She flipped the pancakes and spoke with halting words. "What we did last night was...It was fan-TASTIC! And I would LOVE to do it again. But for now, can we just, like...have breakfast?"

I threw an imaginary glass of ice water onto my balls and tucked my erection out of sight.

We ate breakfast cross-legged on the futon, our plates in our laps and our coffee cups set safely upon the floor. Before we dug in, Meghan held both my hands and said a prayer out load.

"So," I asked between bites, "does this mean we're dating now?"

Meghan picked at a stain one of us had left upon the cushion. No doubt a reminder of another stain on a certain choir room carpet that she had once cleaned. "I don't know. Dating doesn't quite seem to fit this situation."

"So, what should we call it? Dry-fuck buddies? Friends with clothed benefits?"

"Do we really have to call it anything?"

"Huh. I guess we don't, do we?" I smiled at that thought. The freedom it allowed. The opportunities. "These pancakes are delicious," I said.

"Thanks! I don't know about you, but I've got, like, a monster of an appetite this morning."

"Well, we certainly had a great workout last night."

She smirked. "Indeed. A lot of calories got burned."

"Do you want to maybe work off a few more before heading out?"

"Tempting. Very tempting. But...don't you think we ought to space these sessions out?"

My lips twitched. "How much space are you thinking?"

"Like, a day or two? Something to give us a little time to, like, debrief and maintain perspective?"

"Not fall in love?"

"Yeah..." She bit her lip. "Would that be okay?"

"I guess so. I'll probably sprain my wrist in the interim...But I'll keep it to myself."

"I mean, we can still, like, hangout during that time."

"Well, I should hope so! But what about you? Do you think you can resist my devilish charm -" I flung back my ponytail with debonair relish "- and devastatingly good looks for that long?"

Meghan giggled. "I won't have a choice!"

"Oh, yeah?"

"I mean, I've already destroyed one pair of panties. I've gotta do a boat-load of laundry before we start in with any real damage."

* * *

Meghan waited until we had finished breakfast to suggest that we take the rest of the weekend off from each other. "I don't want to, like, drive you crazy with my presence," she said. "Or make pausing on the other stuff more difficult than it's already gonna to be." I assured Meghan that she could never bore me, but I reluctantly agreed.

I spent the rest of that Saturday lurching about the dorm room. I rolled on the futon. I buried my face in the stains of her pussy juice and pumped load after load of semen into the very T-shirt I had lent her.

Sunday, I cleaned the place, floor to ceiling, throwing a coverlet over the futon before Jeremy returned from his parents' place. Nodding his greetings, he said, "You're gonna wanna crack a window or something. It's smelling way too lucky in here, dawg."

Monday morning passed like a kidney stone. I couldn't focus on a single class. I found my mind wondering perpetually to Meghan. The seat of my jeans kept growing far too tight. I guzzled coffee by the pot, terrified that I'd doze off for a nocturnal emission, mid-lecture.

After her morning shift at Chick-fil-A and before her afternoon classes, Meghan rendezvoused with me in the University Center cafeteria. We grabbed some bowls of chili and carried our meals outside to the stone steps of the Humanities Amphitheater.

Friday's storm had dropped the temperature by ten degrees. Suddenly, it was scarf and toboggan weather, like wading through a much-needed, icy shower. Meghan kept her pre-lunch prayer silent, but I still held her hand. We burned our tongues, trying to gobble the chili before it cooled.

Meghan took a deep breath. "So, we may have a kinda, sorta...complication..."

"Impossible. My semen wound up nowhere near your pussy."

"Adam!" She backhanded my shoulder. "It's not about that. Well, like, indirectly, but...Whatever, here it goes. My sorority sisters confronted me about not coming home on Friday. They were not too happy about it."

"So what? You're an adult. You weren't missing some sort of event, were you?"

"No, but one of them saw me walking into Vol Hall with you."

"And?"

"And...a couple of my sorority sisters had started blowing up my phone and texting me, 'What's going on? Are you okay?' Like, that whole night. And of course, I'd let my phone battery die, and for obvious reasons, I'd totally forgotten to recharge it. They were all convinced I was either getting raped or...basically doing exactly what we did."

"Oh. Woops."

She sighed, scrubbing her cheeks with both hands. "So, yeah, that was a little awkward."

"What did you say?"

"Well, I lied my little butt off. I told them that my cousin David had been admitted to the ER with a burst appendix. I said that you had to go to your dorm to get your car keys to drive me to the hospital and that I had spent that whole night sitting up with everyone, praying."

I stared at her. "Wow!"

"I know. I'm not exactly proud of it."

"And they bought all that?"

"Kinda. They asked me why I went to you for the ride instead of one of them. I mean, we're, like, supposed to be sisters in our pledge...and in Christ. So, I kinda, sorta told them you were my...Christian boyfriend..."

"As opposed to your atheist hump-buddy."

"It seemed a better explanation at the time."

"Huh. So, now that I'm your Christian boyfriend, am I going to have to start, you know, making appearances at church? Showing up at sorority fund raisers? Leading prayer groups?"

"I mean, I'd love it if you did, but I'm not gonna to make you start living a lie to cover for me."

"Ah, right, that's just for when I'm not in the room."

"Oh, come on, Adam..."

"Alright, alright. It was a bad joke. I'm sorry."

"Me, too." She offered me a timid smile. I returned it and squeezed her shoulder. We sat in silence for a moment until she cleared her throat. "There's just one other thing."

I chuckled. "There's more?"

"I might've kinda, sorta gotten you invited you to a Christmas party that my sorority sister Bridget is throwing in a couple weeks when her parents will be out of town. Which is to say that I totally did get you invited..."

"A sorority Christmas party?"

"With a special emphasis on Christ."

"Ah. Well, then." I shrugged. "Will there be...drinking?"

"It'll be dry. Bridget's Baptist."

"Will there by dancing?"

"Adam. She's Baptist."

"So, no sexy music? No pornos on the TV? No knife fights or lines of cocaine or heroin party favors laced with rat poison and baby -?"

Meghan headbutted my shoulder. "You gonna go or not?"

"Of course, I'm going to go. Just don't try make me lead a prayer circle or hand out tracts at the fucking eggnog line."

"I'll make an effort."

I sighed, leaning back into the stone steps and hugging Meghan against my shoulder. "The things a man will do for a friend...with clothed benefits."

Nuzzling into my chest, she said, "I knew you'd understand."

* * *

In the weeks leading up to the party, I laid further ground rules for Meghan. I would be forced to say no prayers aloud. I would be forced to discuss no religious beliefs. I would be forced to sing no praise and worship songs. I would be forced to sign no impromptu purity pledges.

Admittedly, backed-up sperm made most of the demands. With Jeremy constantly studying for finals in the dorm, Meghan and I had no place to jack off together. I had to make do with memories and trinkets. The pussy stain on the futon. The strands of her hair in the sink. The two shirtless pictures she sent me, one with her bra on, the other with it nowhere to be seen.

I made the second picture my phone's wallpaper. She had snapped the shot in her bathroom, her blue hair a morning mess and her red pajama shorts pulled down almost to the slit of her vagina. Her skin pale, her nipples small and hard in the room's sterile chill. One hand holding the phone, the other splayed across her lower abdomen.

During one astronomy class that I thought would never end, I slipped off to the restroom, where I consulted the topless pic and fired a quick load against the stall wall. Once I'd finally cleaned up that mess, I started carrying condoms with me everywhere I went. In a week's time, I had left a dozen of them, filled and tied off, scattered in obscure alcoves across campus.

The night of the party itself, I grabbed a red button-down and some jeans and picked up Meghan outside her late afternoon class. I found her in blue jeans and a green sweater with white snowflake patterns. I kissed her on the lips, just a hint of tongue. The entire drive to Bridget's parents' place, I fought the urges to either slip a hand up the hem of her garment or brace her palm against the bulge in my pants

Their home was a yuletide nightmare. A nativity scene stretched across half the front yard. A life-sized Santa and his reindeer knelt with the shepherds and wisemen before the Savior's manger. Fake snow blanketed the ground. Tens of thousands of Christmas lights twinkled up and down the house and throughout the holly bushes.

Bridget answered the door in a Christmas tree sweater with functioning lights twinkling across the front. She dived upon Meghan and then me, squealing, "OMG! OMG! You guys are FINALLY HERE! Now, you have GOT to be Adam! Meghan has told us so much about you! Well, no, she's told us next to NOTHING! LOL! But that's what tonight's for, right!"

Bridget snatched my forearm. I hardly had time to glance back and catch Meghan's sheepish smile before our hostess hauled me, yelping, inside.

She dragged me through the throng of partygoers, most of their faces a featureless blur. "This is Wendy, and this is Charles, and this is Susan and Ruthie and Rachel and Josiah and Jean-Marie..." I lost track. I could only smile and try to shake at least a few hands as she raced me through the gauntlet. She cut me loose in the center of the crowd, assuming I could fend for myself from there.

Christmas carols blasted through the house, all of them religious, all of them recent recordings. The smells of baked cinnamon and holly leaves filled the air. On every stick of furniture, I found nutcrackers, porcelain elves, and miniature trees. You couldn't escape the holiday anywhere.

With Meghan either locked in conversation or outright missing whenever I searched for her, I put on a happy face and forced myself to mingle. I reaped dismal results. Most partygoers who even deigned to speak with me clearly weren't listening. They ladled on the toothy smiles and tittering laughter as they peered over my shoulder in search of someone more interesting.

Minutes stretched into eons, never mind hours. Asshole though I probably was, the partygoers nauseated me. As did the constant Christmas carols and whoever I heard endlessly spouting, "Tis the Season!" and "What a beautiful, God-given evening!" Too much more of that, and I'd find myself dangerously close to scaling the roof and howling, "HAIL SATAN!"

It couldn't have been half an hour before I decided, "Fuck I, I want out." But when I searched for the door, I found a solid wall of partygoers. The faces shifted and changed before me. Their conversations about what movies to watch and what games to play and what flavor of cookies to bake all melded together. I couldn't find Meghan or her voice anywhere. I didn't let that stop me.

I smiled and told everyone, "Merry Christmas!" as I plowed through them. Somebody snatched my arm and spun me around. I stuffed my hands into my pockets to check my reflexes from slugging them.

Bridget's face appeared before me, screaming, "Hallmark or Disney!"

I blinked, hard. "You what?"

"We're voting on what we're gonna watch. The Hallmark Channel or Disney!"

Someone somewhere in the fray shouted, "How the Grinch Stole Christmas!"

"Or the minority vote. What say you, Adam!"

"Uh, Hallmark movies."

Bridget lifted her hands and voice to the room. "That's thirteen for Hallmark! The majority has it!"

Even as the lone voter for The Grinch demanded a recount, I fled from the living room straight into the front hallway, up the stairs, and down the landing to the bathroom.

Locked inside that tiny lavatory, I could finally breath again. Oh, the temptation to rub one out with everybody just downstairs. I could just leave my anonymous load streaked across the toilet seat. If Bridget pointed out the drying, white crusts upon the porcelain, I'd shrug and say, "I have no idea what that is." And if she explained it to me, I'd tell her, "Oh! Is that right? Well, you see, my parents never gave me the talk...LOL, right?"

I changed my mind, even as I worked up a semi. Sure, it would be fun to make some holiday cheer and leave behind a Christmas present for Bridget, but if it was going to become that kind of party, I wasn't about to celebrate alone.

I searched the room for inspiration. I found it in an aloe plant by the window. I pinched off a dried-out leaf, tucking it into my back pocket.

I worked my sails to full mast. I dug the condom out of my coat pocket and rolled it onto my erection. I made sure to tear the wrapper to shreds and then flush the evidence. I waited until some blood receded from my penis before tucking it into my pants and rezipping.

Through the cracked bathroom door and over the stair railing, I watched the living room grow dark as the partygoers gathered for the Hallmark Channel film. Did they notice my absence? If so, did it matter to them? I wouldn't have taken it personally. For me, there was only one girl at this shindig who held my interest. After a few minutes, see appeared on the scene, backing out of the living room and into the hallway.

"No, no, you don't need to pause it," Meghan said. "I'll literally be right back. You know me, I just go, like, totally bonkers if I know there's a mess lying around."

She headed down the hallway and disappeared into the kitchen. After a few minutes, I followed.

* * *

It had been a while since I had stepped foot in a real kitchen. Bridget's family had stocked the place with a stainless-steel stove, a two-doored oven, and a turbo-powered microwave. A marble, butcher block countertop stood on an island in the center of the room. A massive fridge/freezer combo stretched across half a wall. I found Meghan scrubbing dishes at the duel sinks with her back turned.

Easing the door shut behind me, I tiptoed across the stone tiles. I paused, inches from her back. I held my breath against the urge to sniff her hair. Just like back in the janitorial days, I goosed both her sides and watched her jump.

Dishes splashed in the sink water. Meghan tried to shriek, but I slapped a palm over her mouth. Into her ear, I whispered, "Don't break anything."

She giggled into my hand. When I released her, she spun around. "You get me every time! How do you keep so quiet?"

"You've given me plenty of practice."

"You're like a pervy ninja without a topknot. Ooh!" She combed her fingers through my hair. "I bet we could totally give you one of those."

"I seem to recall you successfully sneaking up on me at least one time."

She turned pink at the memory. "Well, until you, like, turned around and caught me."

"Give it time. We'll make a professional creeper out of you yet. What're you doing in here, anyway? Don't tell me the party's getting to you."

She rolled her eyes. "I needed to get away for a minute. I mean, they're my sisters and friends and all, but...yeah, I just needed to get away. Are you enjoying yourself?"

"Honestly? It's kind of a bore."

"Aw...I'm sorry, Adam. Are you liking any of my friends?"

I sighed. "Man, I don't know. I'd probably like most of them okay under different circumstances. And not crowded so close together."

"Eh, that's fair. So, what made you pull out the whole creeper-ninja act?"

"I've got a surprise for you." I retrieved the bathroom trinket from my pocket and dangled it above her head. "Mistletoe!"

She raised an eyebrow. "That's an aloe leaf."

"Yeah, Bridget said her parents wouldn't allow the real thing in the house."

Meghan fell upon my mouth. My lips opened to her touch, permitting her tongue inside. I stroked it with my own. She tasted of sugarplums with traces of peppermint. An assortment of yuletide pleasures dancing between her gums. She combed my hair with one hand and confiscated the aloe-leaf-mistletoe with the other.

When we broke away, Meghan smirked without wiping the saliva from her mouth. Glancing at the closed door, she lifted her Christmas sweater to her bra and placed the aloe over her navel.

Traditions, even their last-minute stand-ins, demanded respect. I sank to my knees and planted kisses across her exposed flesh. I made a cross out of her bellybutton, dragging my tongue north, south, east, and west. Meghan braced her back against the sink, unable to control her giggling spasms.