Professor Johnson's First Frat Party
All characters are over 18.
"Professor Johnson?" a vaguely familiar voice called out. "In my frat? Are you kidding me?"
I turned around to see Ronald Williams gawking at me in surprise.
"It
is
you!" he hooted. "Welcome Professor! I'm so glad to see you here!"
"Well, thank you Ron," I replied, "but I've told you many times - I'm not your professor. I'm just an undergraduate teaching assistant, right?" I felt my face turning red.
"Well, you're a professor to me," he smiled. "Can I get you a drink?"
*****
It wasn't until my junior year that I gave in to my friend Deidra's cajoling and agreed to go to a fraternity party. Doing so would allow me to finally experience that hallowed college tradition and, more importantly, get my friends and family to stop nagging me about "having a little fun once in a while." My boyfriend, Daniel, despised parties of any sort so we never participated, spending most weekends in his dorm room or the library. We had been together since the first week of freshman year and he was the only man I ever slept with. Now, however, he was away on his junior year abroad so I was free to make my own decisions regarding social activities.
Of course, I had no idea that of all the fraternities on campus, Diedra happened to choose the one in which Ronald Williams was a member.
Ron was one of the few upperclassmen in the freshman English class I was TA for - Twentieth-Century American Literature. He was majoring in Computational Analytics, or something of that sort, and registered for my class only to fulfill his core requirement; he made no secret of the fact that he didn't want to be there. He curried favor with the real professor, of course, but during the weekly group discussions that I led Ron was dismissive and arrogant. To make things worse, he was very intelligent and would rudely critique my and other students' opinions. I complained to the real professor about his behavior but he wouldn't hear it. He thought Ron was brilliant and that I needed to do a better job of leading the discussion.
Ron was also amazingly attractive. Six foot two, solidly built with blue eyes and sandy hair, and one of the better players on the University soccer team. He was smart, charming and good-looking and he knew it.
*****
"Here you go Professor," he said, offering me a red plastic cup. "Best Jungle Juice on fraternity row!"
"What is it?" I asked, eyeing the pinkish liquid suspiciously. "And please - call me Alice! You know I'm not an actual professor!"
"You will be one day!" he laughed, tapping his cup against mine. "Cheers!"
I rarely drank with Daniel, although occasionally we would share a bottle of wine. Nevertheless, in the basement of the frat house with laughter and loud music, Ron's blue eyes smiling at me, I tipped back the cup and took a healthy gulp.
Oh, my God!
I thought. It tasted like pure alcohol. Ron laughed when my eyes went wide, but I had to admit I enjoyed the burn in my throat. It was unfamiliar and exhilarating. I took another big gulp, bringing a look of surprise to Ron's face.
"Welcome to Sigma Epsilon Chi!" he laughed as he drained his drink and called to the bartender for refills.
"I think I'll sip this one slower, if that's allowable," I joked, not wanting to get as drunk as many of the other revelers seemed to be.
"Whatever works for you," Ron said reassuringly. With all the noise he had to lean in close to make himself heard. His looming presence was oddly exciting, as if he was creating our own private space amidst the madness of the crowded room. "I'm just glad you showed up!"
"I am too," I admitted demurely, smiling up at him. I could feel the alcohol helping me relax.
"You know," he added, bringing his face near to my ear. "I think having you here will allow you to understand me better."
"Is that so?" I challenged.
"Yes, it is," he maintained, nodding thoughtfully. "Think about the authors we read -- they use place to frame the narrative, right? The way Faulker does with Yoknapatawpha County in
As I Lay Dying
? Or Virginia Woolf and the frozen river in
Orlando?
It's all about the physical and cultural setting, don't you agree?"
I raised my eyebrows. "Impressive analysis, Mr. Williams. Seems you have quite a grasp of twentieth-century American literature."
"Thanks," he grinned. "I have a really good teacher."
There was a momentary lull in our conversation as I took a sip of my drink and found myself getting lost in Ron's blue eyes.
"And how exactly does my presence here increase my understanding?" I inquired.
"Well," he laughed. "You already knew I'm smart, right? Now you know I like to have a good time, too."
I looked around the room. "Yes, that's clear," I agreed.
"Want to dance?" he asked.
I love to dance, but Daniel hated it so I rarely got the opportunity, except at weddings. When I was alone I would dance all the time - while cooking breakfast or folding my laundry - but never around Daniel. I knew it would annoy him.
Nevertheless, I really hadn't expected to drink
or
dance tonight. I had planned to show up and depart swiftly, allowing me to truthfully claim that I had indeed attended a college frat party.
I was wavering -- I already drank, should I dance too? With Ron Williams?
Ron saw my hesitation. "C'mon," he implored. "Just one dance?"
"OK," I relented, placing my empty cup on the bar. Ron eased his hand onto the small of my back and led me through the crowd to a tiny space we could call our own.
It may have been the alcohol, but it was surprisingly enjoyable to be on the crowded dance floor, immersed in the flashing lights and thumping music, bodies swaying back and forth. Way more fun than a wedding! They even had a fog machine; it felt as if we were dancing on a cloud in a lightning storm. Ron was a good dancer, too, moving seductively and smiling, his whole attention focused on me.
I couldn't believe it - I was having fun at a frat party! After two fast songs a slow one came on. I was unsure of what to do, but as the other couples moved together Ron pulled me close and I simply went along. He wrapped his arms around my waist and I draped mine on his shoulders. I felt small but secure in his embrace.
"I've always wanted to slow dance with you, Alice," he whispered in my ear.
"I --," I didn't know what to say. I certainly never thought about slow dancing with him, but I had to admit it was quite pleasurable. Instead of speaking I wrapped my hands around his neck and put my head on his shoulder. Understanding my wordless response, Ron tightened his grip on me and we swayed, letting the music, alcohol, and a faint spark of emerging desire fuel our movements.
When a second slow song came on and Ron saw that I had no intention of extracting myself he dropped his hands lower to rest on my rear end, making me shudder. When I didn't protest it emboldened him. At first he gently squeezed my cheeks, then gradually increased the pressure until he was kneading my bum like dough and pulling my midsection against his. I gasped. His obvious and sizeable erection was now pressing firmly into me, leaving no doubt as to Ron's state of arousal.
I looked up at him in disbelief, but didn't pull away.
"You excite me," he explained with a shrug. When I simply buried my head in his shoulder he ground into me even harder. I pushed back and we remained like that for the rest of the song, Ron squeezing my butt and grinding his hard penis into me, me pushing back against him, both of us moving with the music.
When the song ended Ron put his lips to my ear. "Want to see my room?" he asked. I was somewhat taken aback but before I could even respond he took me by the hand and led me through the throng. I followed willingly as he weaved through the crowd to a door just off the dance floor. He unlocked it and offered me entry, standing like a gentleman with his arm extended, not forcing me in any way. Ron gave me every opportunity to decline his offer. I could have said 'no,' I could have walked away, but I didn't. Against my better instincts I stepped into his room and he shut the door behind me.
I was nervous, but quite excited by the events that were now unfolding. Ron flicked on a salt lamp, bathing the room in a soft, colored glow. Daniel always insisted on complete darkness when we were intimate, so it was a strange thrill to be alone with Ron in the sensuously lit room. The party was raging just outside the door, with loud music and drunken voices. Every few moments someone would bump into the door, making it shake. It felt like we were still in the middle of the dance floor, but with complete privacy.
"Shall we dance some more?" Ron asked, moving his arms around me. I was nervous and expected him to resume groping me, but he was on his best behavior. I placed my hands on his shoulders and smiled up at him as we moved slowly around the room.