"You slept with
eight
guys!?"
"Yep," Rachel confirmed smugly.
"Eight
different
guys?"
"Uh-huh."
"You were gone for nine days!"
"Yeah, well you know how it is, Christy," she smiled wistfully. "Even God needed a day to rest."
My roommate Rachel had flown back from Ft. Lauderdale earlier in the day. Her dad's an orthodontist on Long Island and lets her charge whatever she wants to his credit card. You'd think sharing a dorm room with a spoiled little rich girl would be its own circle of Hell, but Rachel's actually pretty great. She's witty and generous and she knows how lucky she is.
She also has stories that I could
never
confess to my priest.
"Geez, you are such a slut," I shook my head with a laugh as I unpacked my suitcase, keeping my back to her. I'd just gotten back to the dorm after spending my sophomore spring break at home with my family in Baltimore.
Rachel had invited me to come along to Florida with our more affluent friends, and even offered to buy my plane tickets. To save my pride she made up a story about her travel agent offering a group discount. But my parents would freak out and call it a wasteful extravagance. I didn't want to deal with that guilt trip and besides, even with free airfare, I couldn't afford a week in Florida.
"Maybe," she countered, flopping down on her bed. "I'm not the only one, though. The hotel's pool bar had like, three wet T-shirt contests every day. Debbie entered every single one. She even won a couple."
"Seriously? She got up in front of all those guys? I could never."
"Yeah, me neither. But you know how Debbie Daddy-issues likes the attention."
"God, can you imagine?" I mused, as I put my freshly laundered clothes away. "Up on stage with all those guys staring at your body like that?" The very idea terrified and thrilled me at the same time.
"I know, right? But Debbie has great boobs. You might as well flaunt 'em while you've got 'em."
Rachel rolled over on her back and propped herself up on her elbows. Her voice took on a hushed, conspiratorial tone, and her eyes flashed with immoral glee. "By the end of the week she was up there stripping
completely nude
. She even bought herself a new string bikini just so she could make a big show of untying the bottoms and taking them off... And last night... she and another girl sucked the MC's dick on stage."
"Oh my God, she didn't!"
Debbie was always kind of a flirt and an attention whore, but I never thought she'd debase herself like that. The thought of Debbie naked, down on her knees, sucking a guy's dick in front of hundreds of cheering guys—it made my head spin.
"I mean, she'd already slept with him by then," Rachel added with a shrug. "It's not like she sucked off a total stranger... Debbie managed to bed eight guys too. It was a tie."
"Wait, you two were having some sort of competition?" I asked, trying my best not to sound judgemental. Rachel and I have very different opinions about guys and sex. The fact that we can have a mature disagreement is another thing that makes her a great roommate. "Like a slut-off or something?"
"'A slut-off'?" she grinned. "I like the sound of that. We should totally do that next year... I mean, it was nothing formal or anything. We just compared notes on the flight home... Oh! But guess who joined the Mile-High Club."
"You didn't!" I gasped.
"Who, me!?" she sat up indignantly. "Fuck in tiny little airplane bathroom? Ew, no. This slut needs to spread out," and she sprawled back down writhing across the comforter to illustrate.
"So Debbie, then?"
"Nope..." Rachel sat up again to drive her surprise home. "Sara."
"No way! No fucking way."
Sara is a quiet, mousy little thing who spends every Saturday at the Hillel Center. I always considered her a kind of kindred spirit among my more promiscuous friends.
"She did! If I hadn't been there, I wouldn't believe it either." Rachel sat up cross-legged, making room for me as she started to dish.
Forgetting about my unpacking, I bounced onto Rachel's bed and sat across from her, carefully folding my hands in my lap. There was a good story coming, and it sounded like it would be worth sitting through Father Tom's lecture on gossip at my next confession.
"We were all at the airport waiting for the plane to Florida to start boarding, and the whole waiting area was filled with students on their way down to spring br-"
"Wait, wait," I interrupted. "This was on the flight
down
!?" I figured after a week of enduring Rachel and Debbie's conquests, maybe—just maybe—Sara could have worked up the courage to do something daring, but not on the very first day.
"Yes!" Rachel confirmed, her eyes brimming with titillated excitement. "Debbie and I were joking around, pointing out all the guys we wanted to hook up with once we got to Florida. And Sara was trying to play along, but she kept giggling and blushing.
"There was this one guy in a Yankees cap. Oh my god, his cheekbones! And his jawline!" she mock-swooned. "I swear, he could be a model, and you could just tell he was totally cut under his sweatshirt. He was wearing shorts, and his calves were like chiseled out of marble. I mean,
gorgeous
. We all agreed.
"So anyway, we finally board the plane, and we're all sitting together, and Sara has the aisle seat. And guess who's in the seat right across the aisle."
"Gorgeous marble Yankees guy?" I guessed, because that only made sense.
"Exactly," Rachel confirmed. "He's sitting like three feet away from her, and Debbie and I are telling her to say something to him, but she's being all shy and shit and covering her face in her hands and giggling."