Mark & Rana, the Iranian Girl
Mark cavorted with Mrs. Morgenstern and Fay and Arianna separately until it was time to head off to the University of Nebraska to pursue his dream of becoming an architect.
What he didn't anticipate was a sexual drought that would last into his third year there. The subject matter proved difficult and the professors he encountered were merciless as far as Mark was concerned. After almost flunking two vital courses his freshman year, Mark refused all invitations to parties and football games to hit the books. His grades improved, but he felt like an outcast among his peers and found himself falling into a depressed funk.
But that all changed one particularly blustery February morning when the four-story apartment building that Mark lived in with other students because the rent was cheap and one older family who served as the janitors---i.e. took out the trash, cleaned the snow and ice from the sidewalk outside the building and so on.
Mark was staring into the mirror while shaving when the building shook and shuddered as the sound of an explosion reverberated throughout his apartment. Within seconds he heard the screaming, dropped his razor and ran to the door, flung it open and headed down the stairs two at a time as smoke wafted its way up the stairwell.
There was more screaming, surely females, he would recall later on. But as he reached the ground floor a female student who was crying pointed toward the basement stairs. Without another thought, Mark headed down the stairs and into a dark cloud of billowing smoke. The concrete floor of the basement was strewn with red hot coals and some fifteen feet from him, Mark saw a man face down among the coals. As he ran to the stricken man, he realized that the furnace had exploded and there was certainly a danger that he might be engulfed in flames at any moment, for the wall just behind the fallen man was ablaze and moving toward them.
Mark reached the man who appeared to be nude, with most of his flesh burnt away, leaving him as red as a lobster pulled from a cooking pot. He did however; have a belt tied around his waist.
Jesus Christ, his clothing's burnt off him! Mark thought as he started to pull the man away from the approaching flames.
"Ow!" Mark yelled as he burned his hand touching the inert man's shoulder. There's no time to fuck around, he thought, and ignoring the searing heat from the injured man's body, picked him up in what's commonly called the 'fireman's carry' and began hauling him up the stairs to the first floor where he could get the man safely out of the building.
Half-way up the stairs Mark was met by a fireman who helped him transport the badly burned man to the paramedics just getting out of the ambulance. By this time the victim had turned from red to black.
Mark shuddered at the sight and said a silent prayer for the man, who turned out to be the janitor living on the ground floor.
Mark was thanked for his service by the Fire Captain and asked his name and how he came to be down in the basement. He answered the questions to the Captain's satisfaction and asked if he could return to his apartment.
"Yeah, sure, we got it under control. It's all but out already. You know, the furnace blew up in the guy's face. Poor bastard, I don't think he's gonna make it. I've never seen anyone burnt that badly that did."
Mark checked his watch and saw that he had fifteen minutes to his next class. He thanked the fireman who helped him and bounded up the stairs to his apartment, finished dressing and jogged to class.
The girl who had pointed Mark toward the basement was a young Iranian woman named Rana. She was rumored to be a distant relation to the last Shah of Iran, (Mohammad Reza Shah who was overthrown in the Iranian Revolution of 1979. Considered an asset by the CIA and American oil interests, many in his family and close relatives were given refuge in the United States.)
Lately Rana had felt on-edge, she was having trouble getting to sleep at night, and her mind was racing with all manners of strange and alluring thoughts, ideas and fantasies. Confiding in her friends, they all came to the same conclusion: she was horny. She was very horny. She was in a seemingly constant state of physical, mental, emotional and sexual arousal. She was masturbating at least five times a day but couldn't achieve the satisfaction sought.
Rana was taken with Mark's heroic act and good looks and contrived to meet him that afternoon in the Students Lounge on campus. She waited until he wandered into a corner of the student lounge that was unoccupied by anyone else.
This was it, she decided. This was her opportunity. She moved in on him like a tiger closing in for the kill.
"Hi," she said and smiled: she assumed the pose she had practiced before a mirror earlier; it made her breasts jut out even more than usual.
"Hi," he replied, recognizing her as the girl from the second floor.
"I ... um, saw what you did this morning. You're very brave. Have you heard anything about Mr. Deems? I know he was terribly burned."
That must be the guy's name, Mark thought, but couldn't tear his eyes away from her breasts.
"No I haven't. But the fireman said he'd never seen anyone burned that bad make it. I'm so sorry."
"It's a terrible thing ... and such an explosion! Why we might have been killed too," she said noting where his eyes were focused and not minding. Not minding at all. In fact, she could feel her heart beating; ordinarily she couldn't feel it beating, but now she could hear the thump-thump in her ears, could feel the blood pulsing through her veins; and her hands were trembling ever so slightly.
"I---I--I'm Rana. I live on the second floor. I'm majoring in architecture."
"Oh? Well I'm Mark, and of course I live in the building too, um, I'm on the fourth floor and guess what---my major is the same as yours."
After only five minutes conversation, Rana felt that despite his appreciation of her breasts and other body parts, he seemed lacking in that certain something that allows a guy to actually seduce a girl.
He was cute, no question, and he had a nice body and quite a shapely butt to boot, and he was a real hero. It was then she realized that she would have to seduce him without his knowing she was doing it. But how?
He was no longer staring at her body, but had shrugged off his backpack and sat down at a table and all but ignoring her opened a text book and began reading.
Rana was puzzled and frightened. Why isn't he looking at me? He's supposed to be flattering me with little phases about how I look ... things like that. Is it possible he doesn't have sex on his mind? I thought guys thought about sex every seven seconds. Fuck! What do I do now?
She had to get the ball rolling, and she could think of no quicker way to do so than to be as direct as possible.
"You want to know something?" she said.
"What's that?" he said, not looking up from whatever it was he was reading.
"I," she said, "am extremely sexually frustrated."
He was seated at a table in the Student Lounge; he stopped reading and looked up. Rana was perched against the window in front of him; her posture accentuated the tightness of her skirt against her leg and inner thigh, watching his reaction.
Mark was stunned.
