This is an excerpt from a novel I am publishing here at Literotica. Just for fun, I have been releasing some of the sex scenes for those not interested in a long read. Following is a brief setup to the scene.
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Gwen Yoshimura's world is falling apart. Her long time best friend, the Honolulu socialite, Betty Nagata, has cast Gwen out of her life. Distraught by her best friend's unexplained shunning, Gwen approaches Hawking Detrick, Betty's handsome boyfriend in hope of finding some answers.
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Weeks after my big blowout with Betty, I ran into Hawking Detrick. Well, it was more of a sighting really. I saw him in my post-modern history class. Ironically, it was the very same class that Betty gave me the textbooks for. Hunting for the textbooks in her closet had led to Hawking's secret porn stash and the porn had somehow led to Betty shunning of me. I could count the times I had met Hawking Detrick on one hand. Although, our last meeting should have made me quite memorable since I had been totally naked, posing for a painting Betty was working on.
His taste in sleazy porn aside, the guy was hot and his face has dominated many of my late night bed fantasies. My latest is me running into him at the end of the history lecture. We would be alone in the lecture hall. He didn't know who I was so to spark his memory, I strip naked in front of him and then he would say, "Oh yeah ... it's you, Gwen ... Betty's friend."
Anyway, back in the slightly less absurd real world ...
The class was held in a large auditorium. I keep a distance from him. I had no idea what went down between him and Betty and I didn't have the strength to deal with any more Betty fallout. Also, I was still deeply embarrassed about the naked modeling thing. What I knew about the guy was pretty sketchy: handsome, serious surfer, A grade student ... I think.
Like any modern twenty first century woman, I Googled his name. Hawking Detrick-Heinz is his full name but he dropped the Heinz part a while back. It seemed that he was distancing himself form his Grandfather the famous physicist Eisenhower Heinz. Hawking completed his graduate work at San Diego State at the unbelievable age of seventeen. He did his grad studies at George Mason University where he cut his anthropological teeth at important archeological digs in Norfolk and Roanoke. At twenty seven, he is considered brilliant in his field and is now the coordinator for several archeological digs in the Hawaiian Islands. At the university, he wasn't quite an instructor, more of a long-term guest lecturer at the physical anthropology department. Betty had mentioned his frequent island hopping and I had assumed that he was looking for the endless summer on a surfboard. It was his job that moved him around a lot it seemed.
Even the guy's love for surfing was way above par. A couple of Google searches told a story of a world-class surfer winning his share of surfing tournaments worldwide. In his interviews, he insisted everyone call him Hawk.
He had an arrest record too. In California, he did two months in jail for chaining himself to the fence of an electrical power plant protesting the plant's habit of pouring pollutants into a local river. Goggle images popped up with endless shots of the guy looking good on the covers of countless surfing magazines. But I didn't need Google to tell me that he was hot; I saw that every Tuesday and Thursday for myself in the history department's main lecture hall.
I made the decision to stop stalking the guy and meet him face to face. So, on the morning of the next post-modern history class, I wore a snug skirt and a nice white top. I even put on my hardly used contacts and some makeup.
Looking good, I thought with a nod as I admired myself in the mirror at home.
"What you up to Japanee girl?" I asked my reflection.
"I simply don't want to approach him in my usual, grungy, Bohemian state is all," I answered back.
Yeah right.
At the lecture hall, I sat in a seat behind the row that Hawk usually sat in. My plan was to get his attention before the class started—after that I had no idea. As the minutes oozed by, I fearing that he picked today of all days not to show up. Just as the instructor showed up, Hawk appeared and moseyed to his his habitual spot. I slumped and held a notebook up to cover my face with just my eyes showing. His six-foot form looked good in a light blue polo shirt, khaki shorts and worn sandals. I admired his athletic build; apparently surfing kept him fit. Real fit. His blond hair was a little longish and sun-streaked, his skin a pleasing light bronze.
Since the lecture had already started, I decided to make contact at the end. Before the lecture ended, I slipped out to avoid the bottleneck and found a spot just passed the door to wait for Hawk to emerge. Not accustomed to wearing my contacts, the late morning sunlight made my eyes ache. The double doors of the lecture hall slammed open and students spilled out in a torrent. The flow of people soon turned to a trickle but Hawk wasn't among them. Apparently he had taken some other exit out of the building. With dueling emotions of disappointment and relief, I hefted my backpack and made to go just when Hawk exited the building in the company of the instructor, the cool and sexy Professor Piedmont. They stopped a few feet from me to talk.
"Dude, that bit about the Maoists was total bullshit," Hawk said.
Piedmont laughed. "That's what history's all about, dude. The most persistent bullshit gets printed."
Hawk laughed too.
"See you at Waimeha Sunday," Piedmont said, waved and walked away.
Hawk turned and walk right into me. He staggered back and said, "Gwen?"
"Hey," was the best response I could come up with. Then after a silence the size of the Molokai channel, I finally said, "I'm surprised you remember me."
A microscopic smile appeared on his face that seem to say 'I never forget a naked body.'
"Betty talked about you all the time," he said. Evoking Betty's name made his face flush red. He looked in my eyes then turned his head aside and said, "You know we broke up."
For weeks I rehearsed a whole slew of things to say to this man, from haughty to demanding, even seductive, but all I manage to squeak out was, "She broke up with me too."
An unreadable expression clouded his face and neither of us spoke for a long time.
To break the ugly silence, I asked, "Can I buy you a cup of coffee?"
He didn't speak for several beats more then he said flatly, "No."
My heart sank like a stone in water at the rejection.
Then he said, "I've had my cup of the day, make it a lemonade?"
My heart soared like a sea turtle in a warm current.
"Sure," I said.
We headed to a nearby food kiosk and didn't speak until we were seated on a concrete bench shaded by a monkey pod tree.
"I almost didn't recognize you without your glasses," he said with a smile.
