I was at this fraternity party. Usually I don't go to these things; too much trouble, too many drunk guys, too many lost memories and way too many hangovers. Sophomore year, I thought Well, I am going to be here for the next couple years, I might as well go... I hadn't drunken anything alcoholic when I got dragged in to play "Seven Minutes in Heaven." Of course they really meant "A Night in Heaven" but why change the name? The game was being run by the Drake twins --who were in my class—Jared and James. A lot of people were playing, seniors, juniors, and some other sophomores.
When my name was called, I reluctantly got up and picked something from the box that Jared was holding. I pulled out a crumpled up drawing ...I didn't recognize the piece at all, but it was amazing. It was a drawing of a woman, her hair flowing in the wind, her eyes sparkling with tears. The expression captured was like "goodbye" or longing. Lost? Forlorn. It kind of looked like me...a strange idea... I was wondering who did it, when I felt warmth creeping up to my cheeks because a man with long brown hair stood up. I recognized him instantly. Matt. The artist. From high school. I had no idea he was attending college here, it didn't occur to ask all those years ago... He swaggered over to me in his loose jeans and button-down shirt --which was only half buttoned showing off the tattoo on his chest-- and grabbed my hand. My stomach did a little flutter.
"This, is yours Matt?" I asked as I handed it back to him. He nodded, put it into his back pocket and began to lead me upstairs to --what I was assuming— his bedroom.
I could hear James saying to Jared, "What a shame, that a banging body like hers would be wasted on a scrub like Matt." I could only hope that Matt didn't hear that. God, his eyes were still gorgeous.
The room was surprisingly nice. There was a queen sized bed, and that was the only bed there. He had a balcony that had French doors. Matt closed the door to the room behind me, and looked down at me. He pulled me into a hug. I was a little surprised at this, but then softened and hugged him back. He smelled like kerosene and hair gel. I looked up at him and saw his captivating turquoise eyes for what seemed like the first time in forever. They were staring at me with such intensity that I reached up and touched his face with my hand, stroking his cheek. He smiled and whispered seductively,
"I have wanted some time alone with you, Gina since the day we met."
We met my senior year in high school. He was a sophomore in college coming in to demonstrate to the class how to draw skulls for this Hamlet art project. The skull of Yorick I believe it was. He told me that he'd read all of Shakespeare's plays which I thought was impressive. He came in every day for 2 weeks. My friend called him a "pirate hottie" and noted that his eyes were intense. At the time, he reminded me of my uncle only because he'd seemed so shady but none the less, I liked him and looked forward to my classes. I also remember that he had a certain interest in me...
I blushed, remembering, and looked away. Matt gingerly put his fingers underneath my chin and pulled me back and asked, "What are you thinking?"
"Just a memory... about you..." I said still in my reminiscence.
My face must have had a longing expression because when our eyes locked, he came in to kiss me. His lips were delicious and he tasted like mint and something that I couldn't identify. I timidly returned his kiss, but grew less and less shy as I let myself want him openly. I closed my eyes and fell into him. His lips parted mine, and his tongue entered my mouth exploring its contours and gently sucking on my own tongue. His hands brushed against my arm and then my breast, making me shiver. He felt me do this and laughed a little, continuing to kiss me with a ferocious passion.
I could feel a fire being stoked in me, and my desire for him was growing. I'd never felt this aroused and it felt better than I imagined. However, a whisper of my conscience was telling me that I didn't want this but I ignored it. His hands felt their way underneath my shirt, skimming my bra for the clasp and undoing it when they found it. My breasts spilled out and were free. Following his lead, my hand traced down the front of his shirt, unbuttoning each button, one by one. I ran my hands over his abs and up to his chest as he was caressing my breasts, teasing my nipples with a curious level of expertise.
"How big are you now?" he asked.
"Mmm the last time I saw you I was a D-36."
"That's not the case anymore is it?" He chuckled, cupping them --they barely fit into his hand.
