All characters are 18 years of age or older. Copyright 2024. All rights reserved.
Welcome to the little college town of Ballister! I hope you enjoy your stay. This is a multi-part serial. If you've arrived at this part without reading the ones before (and you care about understanding what's going on), you may wish to start at the beginning of the story.
----------
The black Audi barely jostled its driver as it crossed the railroad tracks marking the east part of town. The other side of the tracks. It wasn't merely a cliche. Marco's car stood out now. At the college, the Audi was practically understated, at least until he drove it. Pickup trucks, old minivans, and beat up station wagons lined the streets on this side of town.
Marco looked around as if at a foreign country. Sam came from a different world, and a somewhat impoverished one by the looks of it. Was that part of her appeal? Or, was he here because of Kyle and a competitive impulse? Yeah, that was probably it. Marco liked to win.
A water tower rose on a hill to his left. A shuttered gas station stood fenced and desolate to his right. Was he really in the same town?
Competition might explain why he wanted Sam, but could it explain why he'd seduced a woman in the registrar's office to gain access to Sam's college application? The woman had sold the information fairly cheaply: a long, full-body hug, a little groping, and a rather chaste kiss. Had he really expected a small-town, low-level college administrator to show great ambition? Anyway, he now knew a lot about Sam: her home address, place of employment, financial situation, and college dreams. She wanted to be a doctor and had the class schedule to prove it. So, perhaps there was also some curiosity. What would this smart, ambitious girl be like? What would she do with a man like him?
Marco turned the Audi smoothly onto Seventh Street. The market where Sam worked stood at the end of a block of middle class storefronts: a shoe store, the town's one Thai restaurant, and a used book store. He found a street-side parking spot and made his way inside the market. A skinny young man at the clerk's counter greeted him. Marco nodded perfunctorily. He wasn't here to shop.
The store was medium-sized, too large to be a convenience store but too small to be a full-fledged supermarket. A tough niche to fill, Marco thought, but he didn't know of any other large stores on this side of town. He'd arrived near closing time in hope of fewer patrons, and he was right. There seemed to be only one couple touring the aisles with their shopping cart.
Marco found Sam working in the back corner of the store. She was lugging a crate full of milk cartons toward a large refrigerator. The crate seemed too big for her tiny frame, but she was managing. Not so weak, then, Marco noted in approval.
He watched her for a moment, noting how the apron she was wearing, embossed with the store logo, was also too big for her. Such a small thing. She couldn't be more than five feet tall. The apron swelled nicely over her breasts, though. He couldn't wait to get his hands on them. She'd swept her brown hair into a ponytail, which better framed her high cheekbones. With her pert little nose (everything about her seemed little to Marco) and pale skin, she had an almost elfin appearance. Her eyes were light and luminous, and Marco wanted to spend a day looking into them. He wanted them to fill with awe and admiration of him. A surge of lust swamped Marco's senses. He wanted to ravish her right then and there.
This was nuts. She was some small-town freshman girl. But...when was the last time he'd gone out of his way to meet a girl? When was the last time he'd been the hunter?
Marco took a deep breath before striding up the aisle toward her. He stepped into Sam's path and reached down, deftly slipping the crate handles from her grasp to his. She looked up in surprise, and Marco watched her beautiful eyes widen. Holy fucking shit, they were amazing. Stunning, really. So bright and guileless. Defenseless. He wanted nothing more than to throw down the crate, lift her into his arms, and fuck her hard against the nearby refrigerator. Spectators would be welcomed: let everyone see how he conquered this sweet, little wood sprite. Marco gritted his teeth and refocused his attention as she took a step back, crate forgotten.
"What are you doing here?" she said, shock plain in her tone.
He tried for an innocent smile, but it proved difficult, so he swung around and carried the crate to the fridge.
"I wanted to see you."
"Me? But I'm...you're the...this is..."
Marco let her struggle for words as he noted the brands of milk, filling the appropriate slots.
"I'd like to get to know you." That sounded innocuous, right?
Sam appeared at his elbow. She reached around his solid bulk for the milk carton in his hand.
"I can do that. It's my job."
Perfect. She had come close on her own. Marco tipped the last carton into the slot and pulled her reaching hand to his chest, pressing her palm into the hard muscle. At the same time, he captured her other wrist. Instinct almost drove him to pin that wrist to the glass, but he restrained himself and held it in a soft grip.
Sam blinked in surprise, clearly not expecting to touch him. He'd purposely worn a thin cotton polo, open at the neck. She flexed her fingers tentatively, testing the unyielding tissue of his chest muscles. Her eyes widened.
This was going well so far, so Marco took another small step. He tightened his hold on her wrist, drawing her attention. She was shockingly small—the smallest woman he'd ever touched. His strong hand seemed to completely envelop her narrow wrist.
Sam's eyes wandered up his arm, taking in his thick forearm. He pressed his fingers together to make the thick sinews flex without tightening his grip. He didn't want to hurt her, at least not yet. Her eyes traced up his bulging bicep, which strained his short sleeve, up to his thick shoulders. Her eyes settled on the yoke of his shirt, stretched open by the broadness of his chest and shoulders. She swallowed hard.
Marco waited. That's right, Sam, take me in. Then you'll want me to take you.
One corner of his mouth tipped upward in a smug smile. Her eyes slowly made their way to his face. He could see a range of emotions in her spectacular eyes: surprise, wonder, a little fear, and, yes, desire. Her breath was coming in little gasps.
"Do you want to hang out sometime?" Marco asked softly.
Sam didn't move for a long moment. Then, she nodded. Marco smiled, and this time he didn't have to hide its meaning. Triumph.
"Let's hang out this weekend."
She nodded again. Marco almost laughed at her dumbfounded expression. His work was done.
"See you tomorrow, Sam."
***
The next morning Sam was a nervous wreck. She almost missed her bus fretting about the right clothes to wear. She did her best to keep track of the calculus lecture, but her mind kept veering off to daydream of Marco.
Her nervousness doubled as she walked to her writing class. The only way she kept putting one foot in front of the other was to convince herself the whole thing had been a mistake. Sam scolded herself. Get to know her? More like play a trick on her. She'd been an open book of attraction, and she'd seen the smirk on Marco's face. God, his face, though. Talk about wow. At least she hadn't said the word out loud. Marco's face was chiseled magnificence: a strong, square jaw, full lips, those intense green eyes. His black hair had looked so soft sweeping across his brow. He had even smelled good, too, of soap and leather.
He was probably just messing with her. Someone had made a bet--that was all. She'd get to class, all the fancy girls would laugh in her face, and the big joke would be over.
Like before, she was first in the classroom. She took the same seat; she might as well remain the odd one on the "boys' side." The order of arrival was the same as before, the bevy of beauties first, then Kyle leading his handsome knights around the other side of the table.
Marco arrived seconds after Prof. Ellard. This time he didn't wait in the doorway. He walked directly to the seat next to hers, which no one had taken as if by his order. He placed one of his long, strong arms across the table parallel to her notebook.
