It was late. Or at least it was getting there. The three of us had been talking for about an hour and a half. Mason, Cynthia, and me. We were all friends from grad school, and we had decided to hit the coffee shop one night after a long class session.
"See, I think that they should make suicide its own DSM diagnosis," Cynthia said.
"Why's that?" I asked.
"Because, I mean, it's part of so many other diagnoses, but I think that for some people it can be a big part of their overall mental illness. I think it deserves its own classification and its own treatment."
"Yeah, but," I began, taking a quick sip of my mocha, "the problem with that is that it makes suicidality less fluid. If you lock someone into a diagnosis, then it makes it harder for them to see getting past that."
"Good point," she mused. She sipped at her iced tea, looking at me quietly.
I know, we're nerds. I guess we should just establish that part from the outset. But, really, what do you expect from second year counseling psychology students?
"Well," Mason interjected, "I'm going to head back. I still have a paper to finish for Dr. Tanis' class."
"Okay, Mace," I said. "Good luck."
"Thanks," he said, and grabbed his bag and left the coffee shop.
Like I said, it was late, but the place was still fairly hopping. There were little pockets of people all around the place, but it didn't feel crowded.
I looked over at Cynthia, who was sipping her drink and looking out the window. "Whatcha thinking about now?"
"Oh, nothing," she commented. Cynthia had a soft voice, with a small bit of a lisp. I always wondered what it would be like to be one of her clients, sitting in the chair and trying to take her seriously. But, she pulled it off well. Actually, it was kind of cute. "I was just thinking that you're pretty smart."
"Aww, well, thank you."
"And pretty cute."
Whoa. I'm not going to lie, I wasn't expecting that one. I mean, Cynthia and I were classmates, but we had never even flirted or hinted at liking each other. I hadn't even thought about it, really, until she said that.
Cynthia looked a bit embarrassed. Her cheeks were a little red, and I could see her blue eyes looking around nervously from underneath her black hair.
"I think you're cute too." I replied softly.
Cynthia smiled, and we went on to talk a little bit more. I don't quite remember what we were talking about. I think it was mostly about class and the next paper we had due, but eventually Cynthia decided to drop another bomb in the conversation. "Do you want to go back to my place and have sex?"
"What?!?" I gulped a little, and looked around to make sure no one had noticed my minor commotion.
Now Cynthia had a wicked look on her face. Her eyes were narrowed, and she was smiling as she was running her thumb along the straw of her drink. "I want to fuck you."
I took a few breaths, wetting my mouth to speak. "Sure," I managed.
"Good," she smiled bigger. Quickly she grabbed her back, stood up, and took my hand. I didn't even have a chance to put my cup on the counter before she drug me out of the coffee shop and led me to her car.
As we were walking, and as my dick had time to start throbbing and swelling uncomfortably in my pants, I took stock of Cynthia. She was dressed rather conservatively. She had on some black shoes, jeans, and a black blouse top. Her right arm was covered in bracelets and her left had her watch. That was the hand she was leading me with, casting smiling glances at me as we walked down the sidewalk.
When we reached her car, she unlocked it and looked at me before getting in. "Do you have any condoms?"
"Not with me. Should we stop and get some?"
"No," she said, hopping into the car, "I've got some at home."
And just like that we were in her car on our way to her place for what was sure to take our mind off school for a while.
* * *
We arrived back at Cynthia's place, and hopped out of her car to head inside. She seemed to be in a hurry, though she didn't say much or offer any outward advances. She opened the building door first, asking me to follow her up to the third floor where her apartment was. She deftly opened the door to the apartment, inviting me inside.
Cynthia's place was pretty cool. I'd been over there a few times for game nights, study sessions, and even a class dinner. It seemed familiar now, but still somehow different. Maybe it was because most of the lights were off, or maybe it was just because of the fact of what we were about to do. She dropped her bag into a chair at the dining room table, and then came confidently towards me.
Silently, her lips were against mine. She was sensual and forceful at the same time. I could feel her body press against me, and in turn press me against the door, as she let out soft moans into our mouths. I responded by grabbing her butt, pulling her crotch against mine so she could feel my now fully erect dick against her. She moaned at that, and reached down a hand between us to start rubbing my crotch. I groaned, and she bit my lip a little, pulling and tugging at it playfully.
