Let's call this an essay, less lyrical, a list of facts. His name was James. I remember lots of dark chocolate, French press coffee, long hours pretending to study but really just amusing ourselves with conversation. He bought me things, he took me places. We were friends, with some sort of physical chemistry and a small amount of mental connection, but were virtually opposites in almost every way. When I'd first seen him, I was completely repelled by him, but over time we'd gotten to know each other, played music together and gradually developed a semi-explosive relationship. There on campus, we were a running joke, as to whether we were communicating or at odds with each other. And sometimes he was just a little bit cruel. He didn't comprehend me or the way my mind and emotions worked, but we spent hours and hours together.
Let it be noted, I went to a very strict religious college. The rules included a detailed list of requirements on appearance including: long skirts, uncut hair worn styled up on our heads, not hanging around our faces; long sleeves, no bare skin showing on our legs, high necklines, and nothing that fitted tightly. (Except the concealed panty hose of course.) I played violin in an orchestra, in which we had to wear hose and heels at least two inches high. We would be addressed and receive demerits if our appearance didn't meet the rules. I had taken to wearing patterned hosiery; eventually the women's dean said they'd decided to make a rule against fishnets, even though I was the only one wearing them.
I was very much a virgin, and extremely naive. When I began college, I only even had a vague idea of the physical aspects of male arousal, and even my own sexuality, though present, was basically latent. Naturally, there were separate dorms, which faced each other across a courtyard. My room was on the far side, which faced the city and overlooked the dumpsters. I usually left my blinds open, and remember talking to James once on the phone while he stood below my asking to see my breasts. They were rather splendid, large and full at that stage in my life; most of my weight was in my bust: five foot nine, size eight dress, bra size of 34DD.
This school required students to get approval and basically sign papers in order to date. Physical contact was not permitted on campus by any couple, and even off-campus supposedly you had to write up a list of limits and abide by them. Students were allowed up to three friendship dates, which James and I utilized. One of them included going to a upscale mall, where I tried on a variety of dressy outfits and he took pictures. Instead of eating supper, this was followed by him humping me in the car, fully clothe, of course. His stain never did come out of that long, green satin skirt, so I eventually threw it out in the free clothes pile in the dorm. A male and female student were otherwise not supposed to be off campus together alone, but instead of going on "dating rules" we just included at least one other student on our outings or occasionally managed to meet up somewhere. We were just friends.
