A
My College Years
story
INTRODUCTION
This story is set in my sophomore year.
I had left my home town for the first time to go to college. I was still in state – my parents aren't wealthy – but nevertheless nearly three hundred miles from where I had grown up and most people I knew.
It had been a nightmare finding accommodation. But luckily my Dad had a good friend who lived in the city where my college was located. He had kindly offered me a room in the house he inhabited alone, his wife having died a few years earlier.
His name is David and he became both a father figure for me and my first guide into the realm of sexuality. He will play a part later in this story. But my tale starts with a girl. It starts with...
—
PART I – AMY
I had had my eye on her for some time. The quiet girl, with the studious manner. Amy was her name, short for Amelia. We took American Literature together. Despite our differing majors, we had a number of classes in common. But, in Literature, she typically sat a couple of benches ahead of my customary spot; sometimes to the left, sometimes a little to the right. Today it was to the left.
It was her neck that started me thinking about her in a different way. Not that there was anything wrong with it, quite the contrary. Mostly it was veiled by her long lustrous dark hair, which was brown, like her eyes, but so dark that it could often appear black. One memorable day she had her hair up in a loose bun on top of her head, and held in place with a pencil. I guess she hadn't washed it, I struggled to get in on time for early classes too; I was often up late, er... studying with David's help.
Looking at the back of her neck that day, I had a strong urge to kiss her there, my lips brushing her pale, soft-looking skin. There was something about how the dark hair slowly transitioned to alabaster that had me feeling tingly. Actually I had an urge to kiss various other parts of her body as well, but the neck would be a good place to start. I had seen swans with less shapely necks.
I realized that I had unconsciously placed Amy in the dowdy column, she was a stranger to make-up, and often seemed to want to explicitly deflect attention. But, after my nape-induced epiphany, I looked more closely.
She had an elongated face, with a high forehead, and culminating in a gracefully angled, narrow jaw. Her coffee-colored eyes had a hint of being almond-shaped, and were accentuated by dark, arching brows. Her lips were full and rosy, even without the help of gloss. Her nose was narrow at the top, and for much of its length, before finally broadening to an up-turned ending, a feature that I found desperately cute.
Her cheek-bones were high, but not chiseled. Together with her dark hair and pale skin, the overall effect would not have been out of place in a Peter Jackson movie. I had certainly mis-categorized her, then I thought that was probably what Amy wanted to happen.
I had shared my fantasies about girls with David pretty soon after our relationship became physical. I wanted to be open about all aspects of my sexuality with him. Indeed it was my honesty about sexual feelings for someone else that had led David and I to become lovers a year and a bit ago.
We had agreed early on that monogamy was not a requirement. David seemed content enough with our time together, and didn't appear to seek out other partners; at least as far as I could tell. I had also spent time with a few boys (one at a time, how traditional of me), and two girls, all my own age. The boys had not gone so smoothly, and the girls were not serious relationships. David encouraged me to explore, his only caveat being that, if I found a girl who might be willing, then he'd be delighted to meet them too. Not long after I started crushing on Amy, I also began to fantasize that she might be just such a girl.
Though we had been at college over a year together, Amy wasn't really a close friend. Actually neither of us exactly had close friends. We hung out with the same loose group of people. We'd sit at the same table for lunch sometimes.
Indeed Amy had been there when Mike Johnson had delivered his infamous "Emily the spinner" diatribe -- Mike and my previous crush Rob were both now blissfully out and Mike and I had made our peace some time ago -- but I never saw Amy away from college. She was always somehow aloof, not unfriendly, not self-absorbed, just that little bit apart from the crowd. Which made it all the more strange to meet her one Friday night.
—
In retrospect, if either of us had seen the other first, we probably would have taken evasive action. As it was, we almost literally bumped into each other. She was at the bar ordering a cocktail, I was approaching it to buy a couple of preparatory lemon-drops. I didn't recognize her from behind and, when she turned away from the bar and almost spilt her drink on me, it took a couple of seconds before we both registered who the other person was.
Recognition was followed by astonishment on both our parts. At school, each of us rather faded into the background attire-wise, me favoring standard college girl clothes, while Amy seemed fond of the shapeless, verging on nondescript. Tonight was different.
I was wearing the shiny, black, strapless skin-tight dress I had inherited from David's wife. It was matched by patent leather, high-heeled boots. They were as long as my dress was short. Amy’s attire was also striking. She wore a bright red, close-fitting PVC boob-tube that was at most four inches deep, and a short, black leather skirt with a split up the right side that exposed almost as much flesh as the laced side sections of my dress.
Her dark hair was drawn back in a loose ponytail, showing off her bare shoulders to full advantage. A black choker further accentuated her beautiful neck. The boob-tube did little to disguise her equally shapely breasts. They were small to mid-sized, but pert, with prominent nipples that showed through the thin material. I thought they were close to perfect.
Her bare midriff extended a long way from the bottom of her boob-tube to the top of her low-slung skirt, which revealed enough to have made an early career Britney Spears blush. To be entirely honest, my eyes were occupied elsewhere at the time, but later I saw that she wore high-heels strapped to her calves with leather strings.
I managed a stuttered introduction. "Hi Amy. Are you... er... going to a party?"
Her tone in reply was also hesitant. “Hi Em, kinda yes... I suppose... You?"
"Me? I'm... um... I am meeting... er... someone."
With our shared skin tone, blushes were pretty hard to conceal and we both laughed, before Amy added. “We seem to be the strapless sisters tonight Em."
The tension eased. For me it began to be replaced by other feelings. "You are right. Yes we are. Let's sit down and talk about it shall we, Amy?"
Any agreed. “Sure. It's nice to see you, if maybe a little... unexpected?"
But first, I had other priorities. "Let me just get a drink, OK?”
Being rather flustered to meet my secret crush in this way, and even more flustered by how she looked, I didn't choose my next words terribly wisely. "The usual please Ray, that booth over there."
Ray smiled broadly. "Sure Em. See you later."
