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It catches me off guard because, up until now, the awkwardness of my lack of clothing has kept interactions to a minimum. Having an extended, close-quarters interaction with a large, visible bulge in the only patch of fabric on my whole body is more than even I bargained for. Mitch's eyes frequently flick down to my nipples, my belly, my bulge, my bare legs. I can't call him out on it because I'm the one who volunteered to wear outrageously little.
I can't help feeling that this conversation, while friendly, is meant to turn the tables on me. It's a power move, I can feel it. Mitch is changing the dynamic. I no long feel like the confident, prior tenant constantly pushing boundaries and flaunting his body; instead, I feel like a vulnerable submissive, caught at my own game.
When the conversation ends with an agreement to spend an evening in the near future at the new bar Mitch mentioned, I excuse myself and turn to head back to my room. To do so I have to turn my cute, bare ass to Mitch, and he gets to watch it orbit and shake for ten or so steps down the hall until I get to my room. I pretend I don't care and force myself to walk slowly. By the time I get to my room, I'm dying to disappear inside and cover up.
Wow. That happened fast, I observe to myself. I wonder what that was all about?
But I had no idea what was really coming.
- COMMENTS
Anonymousover 3 years agoI love your exquisite details that heighten the heat, erotic and otherwise, painting the picture stroke by stroke. I am happy that you embark on a series— college has a wealth of possibilities. Thank you!
