Phil Styvers was a second semester freshman attending college on a journalism scholarship. By a combination of good luck and talent, he found himself regarded as the college's star sports reporter, resulting in invitations to most if not all of the Greek organizations' weekend affairs, even though he had turned down a number of invitations to join the fraternities on campus.
One midwinter weekend, Phil arrived late to a frat party, and found most of the members and guests quite well advanced into the state of inebriation. Several couples could be seen in the living areas engaged in activities which should have been reserved for a more private setting. As he looked around the room, he saw a young woman he recognized from one of his classes and from the paper stagger drunkenly into the room from a hallway. As she stumbled her way across the room, she saw Phil and changed direction to aim herself at him. Upon reaching him, she put her arms around his neck and slurred, "Philly baby, wanna dance or something?"
Phil slid his hands around her waist. "Not here. Want to leave and go somewhere quiet and private?"
She giggled. "Nasty boy. 'Kay you convinced me. Now, where did I leave my coat and purse?"
"Cloak room?" suggested Phil. "What's it look like, I'll help."
It took a few minutes, but they found the bag and her coat. Phil led her from the house to his car, and asked where she lived. A sophomore, she was able to live off campus, and shared a two bedroom apartment with three other girls, who, she said, had all been at the party. Phil found the place, and helped her into the building. By the time he got her to the apartment, she was beginning to show signs of an impending retch. He quickly found the key above the door and got her to the bathroom where he positioned her over the appropriate fixture, holding her stomach and forehead. When she was done, he washed her face, and gave her a glass of cool water. He asked which was her bed room, and steered her to the one she indicated. He helped her out of her sweater and skirt, and into bed.
He stood there a moment, looking at her. Her nutmeg colored hair framed an attractive, Slavic face, a pair of bright blue eyes, with a longish straight nose and wide cheekbones, topping a wide, thin-lipped mouth. Her pink lacy bra covered a generous pair of breasts, and matching panties hugged her mons and slit, revealing a wide landing strip of dark pubic hair. Covering her up, he said, half to himself, "I must be some kind of idiot."
"A nice kind. Don't worry, you'll get your reward someday." She reached up and patted his cheek, then fell asleep.
In his car, back at his dorm, he saw her purse on the floor in front of the passenger seat. "Tomorrow," he thought.
At noon, he knocked on the door to the girls' apartment, not knowing if anyone would be awake enough to hear him. Before the second rap, the door opened, and Sally, the girl whose purse he was holding up, greeted him. "Oh, good! You came back. I promised you a reward, didn't I? Come on in."
As Phil entered, he stepped into the large living room/diningroom area. Hearing a number of squeals, he turned toward the kitchen area, to see the three nude roommates attempting to cover themselves. "It's okay, ladies. I'm pretty sure I saw you all at the party last night, dressed just about the same way."
"That was different. It was a party, and we were drunk, and didn't know it. This is just you and us, in our house." A girl named Dorothy was speaking. She used the other bedroom. Fran was her roommate.
"Would you be more comfortable if I turned my back?"
"That would certainly seem the gentlemanly thing to do."
"Don't worry about it, Phil. Come with me," ordered Sally leading the way to her bedroom. "Barb, if you're going to need anything in the next couple of hours, you better get it now, go without, or be embarrassed when you come in."
She turned to Phil when they were in the bed room. Reaching up to put her arms around his neck, she kissed him lightly on his lips, slipping her tongue between his teeth. "I went to that party last night because I wanted to get laid. I'm a twenty-almost-twenty-one year old virgin. All my friends lost their virginity before the beginning of this school year. I feel like some sort of social reject. Since you saved me from getting laid last night, I think it's only fair you help me accomplish my goal today. Don't you agree?"
Phil took half a step back and looked at Sally, from head to toe and back again, remembering the lacy underwear she had been wearing when he put her to bed. He reached out and untied the belt to he robe she was wearing. "I'm certainly willing to try. Was there anything special you wanted included? Anything you've heard about from your friends that sounded interesting?"
Sally looked at him, doubt clear on her face. "What are you thinking of," she asked.
"My girl back home, she used to like it when I kissed her here," he said reaching up to fondle her bare breast, "and here," reaching between her thighs.
