It was the tail end of Summer. Hot and humid. I had just turned 18. It was my first year of college, my first year living outside my home, without my parents there to guide me - my first for a lot of things.
I had been brought up in the Church. Service every Sunday. Bible Study every Wednesday. No sex until marriage. I was all about the life. I didn't feel hampered in any way. I believed the line right down to my bones. Until I met Frank.
She was like no other person I had met before. She lived life for the feel of it, for the love of it, for the thrill.
But I'm getting ahead of myself. Perhaps I should start with my first day.
Sunday ~~
I hadn't met my roommate yet. She had come in early and moved in all her stuff before me and was nowhere to be found the first night. I assumed she was off with a friend somewhere. So, I slept, alone, our two bunk beds facing off against each other in the small cinderblock room. Each bed had a futon couch underneath. Next to the bed, near the window, was well-appointed desk. We had a sad amount of closet space and a small dresser, each.
She, whoever she was, had put up a few posters over the cinderblocks -- one behind her desk, an original poster of the movie the Labyrinth, and one near her closet, a picture of Eddie Izard.
The wall behind her bed was covered in pink fishnet material along with a line of string lights, not lit up at the moment.
I looked to my side of the room. It was plain. I hadn't brought anything to decorate my dorm. I hadn't even thought of it. I felt rather dull, in that moment. Taking my sketchbook out, I drew a large cross in black marker. Using watercolor, I painted it blue, then, cut it out with an X-acto knife. Taking a piece of rolled up tape, I situated it on the wall behind my bed.
I wanted something more, I realized, looking at the cross. I wanted to become more. Experience more. I wasn't sure what, but I knew there was a calling in me, a need.
When I went to bed, I turned over, facing the wall. The cinder blocks were grey, painted still another shade of dirty grey, with a ceiling that was off white and dull. The only color was the blue cross I had painted.
Eventually, as the night wore on, I realized I wasn't falling asleep. I was worried about the following day. I had a Life Drawing class, early, and was used to getting a full night's rest. Looking over at my roommate's bed, I remembered I was truly alone in the room.
Hmmm, I thought.
I pulled my shirt off, over my head, and kicked my panties down to my heels. I had always been self-conscious of my breasts. They were rather large and usually got in the way. I always had to hug people with that awkward side hug. But I had to admit, they were fun in times like this. I began massaging my breasts with my fingers, rubbing my nipples. After a few moments, I let my right-hand slip down into my underwear. I was wet. I rubbed my clit, biting my lower lip and moaning slightly.
The room was silent, save my moans and the wet sound of contact between my fingers and my pussy. My pussy twitched and pulsated as I moved my finger in circles over my clit. I was close. When I came, I cried out for a moment, then stifled the noise with my hand. I didn't want anyone to hear. When I had finished, I let out a long breath of satisfaction and stretched.
Getting up, I went to the bathroom. I felt myself growing tired. As I yawned, I got back into bed and snuggled up, looking back at the blue cross. I made a bit of a face.
"Don't look at me like that," I said to the painting.
Monday ~~
When I awoke, the sun shone down through the window into the middle of the room. My arms were above my head and my mouth was open. I had been snoring. I was thankful my roommate wasn't there, yet.
When I looked at my phone, I saw I only had a few minutes until my first class. I hopped out of bed and brushed my teeth, quickly, choosing an outfit and getting ready. I was so angry with myself. How could I do this on the first day?
Running through campus with my sketchbook and backpack, I made it to Atler Hall about fifteen minutes after class had started.
My first day of Life Drawing was an interesting one. I had taken the class straight away because I found the human form beautiful. I wanted to paint and draw like the old masters.
When I entered the room, the class was already drawing. I took my place and began to set out my things, taking in the model before me. She was beautiful. She had warm skin, a lean figure, large breasts and thick thighs. Her face was lovely, with olive green eyes and full lips, her hair chopped at her ear, dyed red with black tips.
I started to plan out her form in my sketch book, delicately tracing her curves in charcoal.
The class went by quickly.
When it was over, I began packing my things up. The model walked from the middle of the room over to my station.
"Mary?" she said, standing naked before me.
"Yes?" I responded. Everyone in the class was looking at me with envy. How did she know my name? Why had she come up to me of all people? I was the quiet, late girl.
"I believe you're my roommate," she said, holding her hand out. "I'm Frank."
~~
When I returned to my dorm that night, Frank was sitting at her desk, studying. I had opted to reserve a study room in the building. I was taking an Art History class that was essentially all memorization. I was never very good at that sort of thing, so I often went to the library or a private place to study when I had to do it.
Frank looked over at me as I entered the room. She was wearing a crop top and short shorts, a pencil hanging out of her mouth.
"Hey!" she said. "I was wondering where you were."
"Studying," I said.
"Me, too," she took the pencil from her mouth and circled something in her book.
"What's your major?" I asked.
"Accounting," she said. "Yours?"
"Art." I set my things on my desk and settled into my futon. "I think it's really cool you sit for the Life Drawing class."
"You do?" she said, a bit surprised.
