At the end of our last chapter, I had shared another painfully hot encounter with a woman that I ended up entangled with for the better part of the rest of that year. I'd like to tell you that this post is about the first time that I actually, finally, got to have sex with her, but the truth is this - she was so bad at it. It's not that she wasn't trying; she had enthusiasm in spades. No, she was simply the most incredibly boring fuck that you could imagine, and I'd hate to bore you with the details of how I spent the next 8 months cycling between blue ball hell interrupted infrequently by 15 minutes of the same doggystyle sex each time.
I was bummed, because she was just way too hot to be that boring in bed, but I couldn't escape the fact that she was a far better tease than she was a lay. Don't get me wrong, she really was a grade-A cock tease, which remained fun for a long time. Over time though, jerking myself off after nights out with her started to get really stale, and my efforts to pick up my game at school were beginning to bear fruit. Leading into the summer term, I was up for a really prestigious internship that I'd been nominated for by a professor-turned-lifelong-friend. Though my first serious relationship and the yields on my hard work were beginning to show and mature into a more adult confidence, the prospect of interviewing for this internship had me in bits for weeks. I redoubled my efforts to prepare, finding time to leave the house only when I could no longer put off the breakup conversation that was long overdue.
The days ticked on by and the eve of the interview was upon me. I was a mess. I couldn't stomach a bite of food, sleep eluded me but for some cat naps in the library, and texting the ex for comfort started to look real appealing. Gladly, I was saved from near disaster that very evening, when I found myself, again, in class. I wasn't in any mood to pay attention, but I wouldn't allow my discipline slip, so I went.
That's when Kate sat beside me. I hadn't noticed her before, which struck me as odd, considering we were in the last few weeks of term. Another panicking student, turning up at the 11th hour to beg for clemency from a professor poised to record an F for her term, most likely.
She flopped her books down beside me, and told me she was Kate. I hadn't asked, or even looked her way frankly. But she was Kate and she stuck her hand out to shake the one that I was not actually offering. I took it anyway. It was nice to meet her.
She was small, and boyish. Pretty, if that matters, but the close cropped hair did give her the look of a teenage lad. She smelled too, I'm sorry to say, like stale beer, cigarettes, and faintly of vomit. On top of that, she was covered in the most random array of badly done tattoos that have ever been inked in any grungy basement by a rebuilt cassette deck tattoo gun. Are you horny yet? No, I don't suppose you are. And neither was I. I do sound like a horrendously judgey prick at the moment though, and I'm positive I came off that way at the time.
We chatted, class started, we chatted at the break again, class resumed, class ended, we chatted on the way out of the building, and she went off into the night. And I was smitten. We loved the same bands, drank the same shitty beer, spent our weekends in the same gross kinds of bars, and she was funny as all hell in a morbid way. I swore to myself that wouldn't be the end of things. She'd almost, but not entirely, forced the anxiety of the week out of my system. Since traces of it did linger on, I settled on meeting some friends at the pub to chase the rest away. I'd never do the same now, of course, but I was 20 and invincible.
I went home, cleaned up, and headed back out. Nearing the street most commonly frequented by the students looking to bar crawl, I saw my friends smoking outside our hole. Waving, I caught the briefest glimpse of Kate slipping inside a, shockingly, dumpier looking joint than even I spent time in.
Obviously I blew my friends off.
