It Takes a Village Pt. 02

Quick note: Hi everyone! This is part 2 of a little series I wrote a while back and kind of forgot about. I broke it up as such so that each part has at least one sex scene. There should be 8 parts in total, and I'm working on getting them all submitted. I really appreciate (constructive) feedback, so please leave a comment or message me or whatever if you feel so inclined! This is my first attempt at writing, though, so please don't be too harsh

PART 2

Chapter 4

It was already Thursday in the first week of classes of the second semester. I was particularly nervous about a data analytics course that focused on regression models, and since Isaiah had aced the class the previous semester, I met up with him at the library.

"Hey, Dot!" He said warmly, as we embraced each other. Isaiah is a large guy, probably at least 6'3", easily 250 pounds, with a personality to match. I could see why Mia liked him so much. He is kind and funny, has the most perfect dark skin and eyes, but most importantly for me, he's wicked smart.

"Hi Isaiah," I said as I let him go. "Thanks again for helping me with this. I'm gonna grab some tea, can I get you anything?" That was our deal. If he helped me with work, I always offered to load him up on caffeine.

"Yeah, I'll take a large Americano, extra shot. I'll meet you at my table, okay? Third floor, along the South windows."

I gave him a thumbs up as we went our separate ways, laughing to myself. A large Americano with an extra shot was essentially just five straight shots of espresso topped with hot water, but I knew from experience that that much caffeine didn't affect him like it would most people. The line at the café was short, and minutes later I was approaching Isaiah with our drinks. Another good reasons to study with him; tables at the Grand Library were almost never available, but since Isaiah was just slightly intimidating with both his size and his serious stare, he usually ended up snagging one.

We worked for an hour or so, going over the syllabus, reviewing his notes from the class, and checking my homework for the week.

"I don't actually think you needed my help, Dot. Everything looks good. Just keep the codebook nearby while you work, and you'll be golden." He stated, closing his battered notebook.

"Thanks, but we will see how it goes as the semester progresses." I said with a wince.

We were silent for a moment, finishing off our respective drinks and gathering our stuff. My phone began ringing at that moment. I didn't even need to check who it was; I recognized the ringtone as the special one I set for my mom.

"Hey, mom. Gimme just one second, I'm in the library." I ran down the stairs to the main floor, which was always busy and loud, so I wouldn't bother anyone with my conversation. "Okay, sorry. What's up?"

"Hi sweetie, I didn't mean to bother you. I just have a favor to ask." She sounded very serious and I felt my heart drop to my stomach.

"What is it?"

"I need you to call your dad. I need you to try to see where he is."

"It's past 8, he's not home from work yet?"

"No, and he didn't call me or anything, but I know he's—" she cut herself off.

"You know he's what?"

"Nothing, ignore me."

"No, if I'm doing you favor, I want all possible information."

She sighed loudly before saying, "Fine. I may have shared his location with me the other day," She paused, "and he may not know about it."

"Are you kidding me? You have his location? What the fuck do you need me for?" I yelled quietyl, still trying to keep my voice in a whisper.

"Language, Dot. I just want to know if he will be truthful when you ask where he is."

I thought for a minute, even though I knew it was pointless; I had a very difficult time saying 'no' to authority figures.

"Fine, but I need you to talk to him this weekend. Like, a serious, grown-up, no-lying conversation."

"Yes baby, I will. Thank you, just call me back when you're off the phone with him."

"Mkay, bye."

I laughed to myself. How was it that I, a 20-year-old college student living almost two hours from home, somehow ended up mediating my parents' marriage? I dialed my dad's number and waited. One ring, two rings, thr—

"Hi sweetie, is everything okay?" He asked, his voice laced with concern.

"Yeah, yeah, I'm fine. I just... remembered that I have a paper due tomorrow night and I was hoping you could proofread it for me?"

"Oh... um, yeah... yeah, just send it to my work email. I won't be able to get to it until tomorrow afternoon, though."

"That's okay, thank you. Whatcha up to?" I silently prayed that was casual enough.

"Oh nothing, just eating dinner." He sounded truthful, but I also heard quite a bit of background noise. Working through dinner wasn't entirely uncommon for my dad, but that would mean he would be eating in the silence of his office.

"Somewhere nice? Sounds like fun." I hoped some sincerity would shine through my complete bullshit.

"Yes, your mom and I went out to Rosemary. It's a little more crowded than normal, I suppose."

"Yum, get their pad thai for me! Okay, I won't keep you. Have a good night, dad. Love you."

"Love you too, sweetheart."

I hung up, and the nausea that was initially brought on by my mother only intensified. So now I had to tell my mom that my dad was lying to both of us.

"Hey, mom."

"Hi Dot, how'd it go? What'd he say?"

"I can't talk long, but he told me that he was at dinner...with you."

"That son of a—"

"Mom."

"Sorry, Dot. Where'd he say he was?"

"Rosemary."

"Interesting. That is actually where is location is placing him."

"Great mom, I can't really hang around to conspire. I'll talk to you soon." I hung up the phone before she could answer.

How could this be happening? What transpired between my parents? My childhood was completely normal, I thought my parents were so in love. There's no way my dad would cheat on my mom; she's already way out of his league. And why couldn't my 55-year-old mother manage to grow some ovaries and confront him? Stooping to secretly tracking him? Ridiculous.

I had hoped for a peaceful night, maybe going to bed early for once. After that interaction, however, it looked like I had some pent-up frustration to get out.

Chapter 5

Isaiah cleared his throat as we left the library and started the trek across the quad.

"So, how's everyone? Ruth? Mia? Perry?" he asked quietly.

"Cut it, Isaiah, I know you really just want to ask me about Mia." I gave him a knowing look and his eyes shot to the floor, hiding his pain and embarrassment. I gave him a second to get it together.

"You're right. How is she? Has she said anything about us?"

"She's okay, her break was pretty uneventful." I paused, knowing I was about to switch into a much more serious topic. "She misses you. She hates how things ended and she really thinks she fucked up."

"I guess. Is that what you think?"

"C'mon, you know I can't speak for her." We stopped at the crosswalk, waiting for the light to turn. "For whatever it's worth, I think there has to be something more to the story than either of them is letting on. You know my thoughts on Matty."

"Does Ruth know your thoughts on Matty?"

I thought for a minute. "No, actually, she doesn't. I wanted to let her make up her own opinion of him but now I'm thinking it would be best to tell her what's going on with him and Mia."

Matty and Isaiah had been friends ever since sixth grade. They now lived together in an off-campus apartment just a few blocks from my house. My best friend and roommate, Ruth, had always had a thing for Matty but was too shy to tell him about it. Matty had rubbed me the wrong way from the moment I met him, the very first week of my own freshman year.

After Isaiah and I met at a Data Analytics major meeting he decided to look out for me. I know now that it was an act of solidarity; him being a black man and me being a woman, we were few and far between in our chosen field. Isaiah had invited me to his apartment that coming Friday, where he would be throwing a mixer of sorts for DA folks. This mixer, of course, was not school sanctioned, and was guaranteed to be a blast by all the other DA students that Isaiah had introduced me to.

The thing was, being a freshman and all, I did not realize that when Isaiah said the party started at 9, what he really meant was that it started at 10:30 PM because that's when people would start to arrive. I knocked on his door at 8:55, confused by the quiet. I heard footsteps coming, a lock turn, and the door creaking open. I raised my eyes, expecting to see Isaiah, and was taken aback when I saw a medium-height, skinny white guy that looked like he hadn't showered in a few days and read Marx ironically. The smell of weed hit me like a brick, and I coughed a little as he looked me up and down very slowly.

"Who are you?" he asked, no inflection in his voice whatsoever.

"Dot. Hi. Sorry, does Isaiah live here?" His gaze lingered, and I was suddenly very aware of the clothes I had on. It was still August, so I was wearing high-waisted jean shorts with cuffed hems that I had salvaged from a thrift store and a tight black tank-top that left nothing to the imagination. My face flushed, and I was unexpectedly annoyed with how forward and unsubtle men felt they could be. My stare finally met his, and he narrowed his eyes. "Yo, I, someone is here for you!" He turned around, left the door open, and began walking down the entrance hall. I stood on the porch, confused as to whether or not I was supposed to follow. Just then, Isaiah poked his head out into the hallway and smiled at me.

"Hey, Dot! What's up! Come on in." He motioned for me to enter, and I closed the door behind me.

"Dot, this is one of my roommates, Matty. I've known him since we were like... 10 or so?" Matty nodded. "Matty, this is Dot, and I've known her since, well... this morning at the DA meeting." He laughed lightly.

"Nice to meet you," I said, smiling. "Are you in Data Analytics, too?"

He scoffed, his arms crossed in front of his chest. "God no, no I'm in Finance." He said, with a slight emphasis on 'finance,' implying I should recognize it as something special. I wanted to remain friendly, but I also wanted to take a jab at him, so I did my best to combine them into one statement: "Oh, well, Finance and Data Analytics are so similar, we both work with numbers and stuff! But Finance majors can only really work in finance, and DA majors can work in basically any field..."

Isaiah tried to cover a laugh by turning it into a cough and Matty let out a quick "hmpf," realizing I wasn't going to be pushed around too much. All three of us began to walk back to the kitchen, but I grabbed Isaiah by the shirt and pulled him aside.

"I'm sorry, I should have known that 8 o'clock doesn't actually mean 8 o'clock. I can come back late—"

"No, not at all!" Isaiah cut me off with a smile. "I'd love the company. You can help me make the Jungle Juice."

Isaiah had a large 5-gallon bucket and bottles of alcohol everywhere. We slowly dumped them in one-by-one: vodka, rum, orange juice, cranberry juice, lemonade mix. Isaiah grabbed two plastic cups, filled them up about an inch, and handed one to me for a taste test.

"I literally don't taste any alcohol." I said incredulously.

"Then I'll throw in the second bottle of vodka." He winked, knowing we had a fun night in store.

Hours later, when the jungle juice was gone and there were cups all over Isaiah's apartment, I started picking up. There were still a fair number of people around, but I thought it would be a nice way to help. I was on my hands and knees in the kitchen, reaching for a few empty cans that had been kicked under the table, and my butt had arched back as a result. That's when Matty walked in the room, with someone else whose voice I didn't recognize joining as well. I heard them behind me, so I sat back onto my heels, a small trash bag in my hand.

"No, keep stretching, don't let me stop you." Matty motioned to the table.

The other man was slightly taller than Matty, with short, curly hair that swooped onto his forehead like the little swirls of coffee creamer when you first start to stir. His hair was about the color of the end result of the mixing: a lighter brown with almost grey undertones. He was covered in freckles and had blue eyes with the similar grey tinges. He was fascinating to look at.

"It's okay, I got them." I knew what he was referring to, I wasn't stupid, but I really did not expect what happened next. Matty finished off his drink, crushed his plastic cup in his hand, and threw it past my face, back under the table. The other man elbowed Matty in the side and scolded him, "Dude! C'mon, not cool."

Matty and I had a spontaneous three-second staring contest before I leaned down, remaining in my squatting position on my heels, and reached for the cup. Matty laughed.

"What kind of name is 'Dot' anyway?" He asked me as the other man grabbed a few paper towels and began wiping at a sticky spot on the kitchen floor. Spilt beer, maybe?

I scrunched my face up and asked, "What kind of name is 'Matty' anyway?"

"I asked you first."

"It's short for 'Dorothea'. It's a family name."

"'Dorothea? Are you kidding? I guess that's cooler than 'Matthew.'"

His eyes stayed on mine as a slightly puzzled look appeared on my face. Was this... an attempt at conversation?

"Do you like polka-dots?" the stranger ask suddenly, still scrubbing the mess on the floor. It took me a second to realize the question was directed at me, as he didn't even look up from his work.

"Me? Yeah, sure, I like polka dots. Why do you ask?" I started to stand up and tie the trash bag shut.

He stopped what he was doing and mirrored me, making it obvious that he had at least 8 inches on my 5'3".

"My grade school nickname was always 'Polka-Dot'." The left side of his mouth turned up into an adorable smile as he motioned at freckles. My observation of his face continued for a few seconds until he laughed and went to take the trash bag from me.

"I'm Rian," he explained, "pronounced like 'Ian,' but add an 'R.'" He took the trash bag into his left hand and stuck out his right for a handshake.

"Nice to meet you, Rian. Cool name." was all I managed to get out.

Chapter 6

I recovered with a little bit of small talk, and I learned that Rian was actually Isaiah and Matty's third roommate. He was a sophomore at the time, majoring in History. He was born in Ireland but moved to the United States when he was two, hence his particular interest in the Irish War of Independence. I admitted to him that I didn't actually know much about the topic and he told me that few people do. He didn't simply start explaining it to me, which is one of my pet peeves. Almost like he was playing hard-to-get, his unexpected quiet made me want him to speak to me even more. I asked if he had a SparkNotes version that he could tell me, and he lit up as we moved outside to clean up the yard. He was clearly passionate about this and I loved it. Seeing his joy and getting a little glimpse into his vast knowledge was thrilling. I realized I was very turned on.

"I'd have to guess that you're Irish, though." Rian said to me when he was done with his overview, more as a statement and less of a question.

"I'm actually not entirely sure." He tilted his head and looked at me, silently urging me to continue. "My mom was adopted when she was a baby I haven't really looked into the genetics of her side. Dad's side is all Middle Eastern." I said, motioning up and down my body. He nodded his head slowly.

"Well, you certainly look Irish."

"How do you mean?"

"The crazy dark hair with the pale skin; it's not a super common complexion." I froze in place, unsure how to respond. It might have been the few drinks I'd had numbing my mind, but I had a feeling it was Rian's presence. Realizing I'd stopped, he turned back to me and explained.

"It's breathtaking, really. The skin, the hair, the light eyes; it makes you wonder what made a god put all those dissimilar pieces together."

I made a promise to myself before I left for college. I was going to be honest with myself and other people. Not in that super annoying way where you use it as an excuse to be an ass to everyone, more in the way that I wouldn't do unnecessary things I didn't have time for so I could do things that excited me. In that moment, Rian excited me.

"Do you have freckles... everywhere?" I asked Rian, making sure he saw that I was looking him up and down. He grinned mischievously and let out a low laugh, sending a rush of heat to my core.

"I have freckles on my arms, if that's what you mean."

"I think you know that's not what I meant."

"You can find out, if you want to." His eyebrows went up his forehead and he flicked his head towards the apartment.

"I want to."

He put out his hand and we walked over to the large dumpster, throwing our trash bags into it. We walked about 10 feet away, just so the smell was out of range, and he turned to face me, his hands on my upper arms.

"I want to make sure we're on the same page here." he started. "You want to stay over tonight, with me."

"Yes." I answered quickly.

"And you want to have sex?"

"Yes." I answered even faster.

His eyes darkened, and that mischievous smile returned. He took my hand and lead me back to the apartment steps, through the front door, past the spot in the living room where both Isaiah and Matty were socializing, and finally into his bedroom. Before I had time to look around, he pushed me against the closed door, his hands on either side of my head, and leaned in close. My breathing was rapid and irregular as he slowly planted his lips on mine. The kiss was soft, almost sweet. Each one was progressively more intense, and eventually, I felt his tongue prodding my lips. They parted and gave way to him, our tongues meeting in my mouth. I moaned softly, loving how he guided this, my hands sliding up his chest. He pulled back just an inch and clasped my hands in his.

"Let me be in charge." He whispered.

All I could do was nod as I was too breathless to answer verbally. He kissed behind my ear, down my neck, and started with soft bites. I moaned again. He took both my hands and held them together in one of his and pined them softly above me. He kissed my lips once and looked at me for a long moment.

"Beautiful." He whispered again, though I wasn't sure if he was referring to my response to his request or my body. Either way, it was the first time that I remember someone actually making me feel beautiful. I'm rather short and I have some curves; I honestly love my ass and my breasts, as well as my strong thighs, but I could do without the looser midsection.

"You're sure about this?" He asked.

"Absolutely." I replied definitively.

A loud collective laugh erupted from the living room and I froze at the sound, but Rian used this as an opportunity to seize my mouth once again. I felt a little strange without the use of my hands, but Rian compensated in every way; his free hand roamed my body, his mouth explored mine. He eventually slid his hand up under my tank top, moving it up to my breasts and giving them a hard squeeze. I gasped in response, and Rian ripped my top off over my head. He released my hands to undo my shorts and guided them down my legs, and my arms naturally fell to his shoulders for support. As he stood back up, still fully clothed, me in only a skimpy bralette and my panties, he took my arms once again. He turned me around, so my front was flat on the door, my arms held together at the small of my back. Rian returned to kissing my ear and whispered, "Don't make a sound."

At that moment, he let go of my arms but pulled me flush against him, instead wrapping the arm around my stomach. I felt his other hand reach down over my mons to pull my panties to the side. I tried to silence my heavy breathing, but in that moment, knowing some of my new friends and classmates were just a room over, everything felt incredibly sexy. I clamped my mouth shut before another moan escaped as he slid a finger up and down my slit, spreading my wetness. He busied his mouth with more neck and shoulder kisses, the light bites becoming more frequent and more intense. He slowly pushed one finger inside me and found my G-spot with ease. He pushed in a second finger and began rubbing them against my front wall, causing me to start whispering "fuck" over and over.