Just As

Warning: You're probably not gonna get off to this story, at least not this chapter.

If you plagiarize this work, remember that you'll never reproduce anything that sounds like it. ;)

*****

"Yes baby, your ass is so tight! You're so fucking hot."

I love it when they say that. Here I am, riding the semi-decent cock of the semi-douchebag who picked me up at the club, having what until then had been a semi-decent fuck, and then the guy goes and says something like that. I love when they talk dirty to me.

"Fuck me harder!" I command. His thrusts pick up and strike deeper inside me. I moan as the waves of pleasure roll through my entire body, and I swivel my hips to meet his strokes. I wish I could get out of my head and just enjoy this. As fun as this is, it could be way more fun. I open my eyes and look for the bowl. It's on the table next to the bed. Still fucking, I reach over and lift the bowl and the lighter off the table and to my lips. I light the contents of the bright piece and I close my eyes as I inhale. The smoke is bitter and harsh, but I'm not new to it. I hold my breath, double inhale. My lungs are full and I'm suppressing the urge to cough. It's perfect.

The fresh high hits me, compounds what I smoked before I went out. I haven't even exhaled yet. I circle my hips over the cock in my ass, press in when it aims to explore deeper. What little discomfort I felt before is gone- I am gloriously numb.

"You gonna exhale babe?" I look at the man beneath me, his scratchy chest hair under my hands. A forgettable face and a body I will have to work to forget tomorrow, yet he's the one who took me home. I've been holding in my hit for a long time now. I'm a singer, breathing is one of the things I do best. I make eye contact with the man, lean in, and exhale right into his hungry kiss. I push everything out, and I squeeze his cock with my ass, feeling it driving in me.

The man moans as he exhales, and I relax on his chest as I catch my breath. I had to have been holding that hit for at least two minutes. My cock is pinned against his stomach. I can feel it in his stomach hair. I hate body hair. How desperate am I right now, fucking a man who turns me off? I sit back up, ready to finish this and go home. I've had my fun. I start really working my hips, and I play up my moans for good effect. My cock's been soft for twenty minutes now, but I'm playing like this is the best sex I've ever had.

The sad part is that I can tell it's working. The man beneath me is visibly more aroused, and his breath is coming less easy. His face and chest are getting red, and his rhythm is quickly adopting a more staccato approach. He won't be long, which is good, because the lube from his condom is almost worn out and I'll need more soon. May as well just end it and move on. From the way the man below me is bucking, there won't be much more to endure.

I muscle into overdrive, seeing as how I'm doing all the work anyway. The man is trying to hold back, but the heat and grip of my ass is really getting to him. I play his nipples in my hands and bite at his chest. It'd be really great if he could stop fighting me, because I've been ready to leave for a while. I think he's almost ready to go over the edge when he says it:

"Yeah bitch, you like my cock? Take it like a bitch, I know you love it, you little whore."

If I could have a small band follow me around and play the soundtrack to my life, the percussionist would have played a record scratching just then. I didn't have that, but any mood I was in died just then.

"Excuse me?" I stopped my hips, drew my hands off his body in repulsion.

"Don't stop, bitch! I'm close!" Clearly the man didn't understand his offense.

"What was my one stipulation?" I demanded of him. The high that had me in a good mood was now the same force that made me hyper-aware. I could feel my anger driving a hole into his face.

The man was struggling to continue fucking me. My long, muscular thighs had his torso on lockdown, preventing him from fucking me. "I said keep going, bitch! I'm about to finish! Now where do you want it, you sexy little slut?"

I fought back the urge to maul him like I fought back the urge to cough earlier. But I'm the bigger person- literally, since he stands more than a foot shorter than me.

"What was my one rule?" I ask again. I slip off his cock and move to get off the bed and back into my shorts.

The man grabs my arm, hard enough to intend to leave a bruise. "Where do you think you're going? We've got business to finish?"

I yank my arm from his grip and stand up, locating my shorts with difficulty in the darkness. "I said I don't want to be demeaned. What the fuck was that?"

The man looks angry. Well, frustrated. I'm sure I would be too, if I was having any fun. I have my shirt on before he realizes what he's done. Suddenly he's all apologetic, and rushes off the bed to where I am collecting my things.

"Baby, I'm sorry, I got carried away. I know you said that, but I was so turned on by that sexy body, and I just couldn't help what I was sa-"

I wave my hand to cut him off. I can't find my shoes, but I'd got them for a dollar at Old Navy anyway. I have my wallet, my keys, my phone, and my clothes. I have everything else that I came in with, I can leave the shoes.

"I don't want your fake apologies." I say to him, heading toward the door. "I told you what I didn't want, and I told you what would happen if you messed up." The guy seems to finally realize that I am serious about leaving. He catches up to me as I am about to open the door, wraps his arms around my stomach from behind. In a taller man, I suppose the gesture would have been romantic. However, from way up where I was at six four, he feels like a midget to me. I break his grip, though he tries to resist, and I turn around.

"Have fun jacking off tonight." I say, looking down at his face. He comes up to my sternum, God! The short daddies always develop attachment issues. "Thanks for trying." With that, I close the door to his motel and start my walk.

The sky was clear, and the night pleasant. I've walked home in worse conditions before. I check my phone- 3:38AM. This may actually be good for me. I put on what I think of as my "big city" walk- shoulders back, spine straight, confident gait. I cut an impressive figure when I walk. I use the same confident walk that I use when I go to auditions. No one bothers you if you look pissed off and dangerous; and with my broad shoulders, height, and walk, I feel like I pass for both.

I hate boring sex. This was supposed to be my fun weekend, my break, and I couldn't seem to catch a break. I was supposed to go out, get hella blazed, fuck a stranger, wake up tomorrow and get my life together. Instead I ended up with half a high and unsatisfying sex. It's a good thing that guy lives so close to town, because walking in this part of the mountains at this time of night is dangerous. Not because I'm threatened by the thought of being mugged (by who? Maybe a thousand people live here), but because I'm afraid of being run over by the idiot drivers in this area.

I look up again at the sky as I walk. I love going to school in the mountains. Up here, I live in the valley, and the peak of the mountain is a ten minute drive; and in the valley, the stars are so brilliant and plenty. You don't see that back home. There are so many stars in the sky that I can hardly see the sky behind the stars. I want to stop and look at them, really look at them.

I'm also high, so why the fuck not? I plant my happy ass in the middle of the road, lay down, and look at the stars. I would love to be a star. Stars are so real. I wish I could be real like that. I bet stars don't have subpar sex with pint-sized Smoky Bears; I bet stars have amazing, explosive sex.

I get a little horny on the road, thinking about sex. I can feel my dick responding. I think briefly about taking my dick and just stroking myself off here in the middle of the road; but even high, I know it's a bad idea to lay here for much longer. I start the arduous process of getting up, leaving behind the comforting warmth of the blacktop.

I get back on the side of the road and dust myself off, bits of road falling back to the ground. I am just about to start walking when I hear a car approaching from behind. Momentarily, my panic rises as I think it's the man from earlier. There is forest on the other side of the road, I think perhaps I can escape there if necessary. I walk again, not wanting to look any more suspicious but also not wanting to look threatened.

When the car slows down and pulls up next to me, I am prepared for the worst. I've got my phone in my hand in my pocket, ready to dial 911. I've got my lighter in the other hand, ready to... defend myself. Somehow. But when the car's window rolls down, it's not the guy from earlier. It's some guy on the football team at school. I relax my grip on my phone and lighter. Okay, he's not really "some guy", he's definitely the hottest one, I've definitely fantasized about him wrecking me in the locker room; but I don't chase straights.

"Hey, don't we go to school together?" he asks. His face is a mixture of concern and doubt. I have no idea how I look right now. The guy I just left found out I love my hair pulled and really ran with it. He also found out how much I love to be bitten and choked. I probably look like the missing link.

"Yep. You're on the football team." I say, because I am smooth and an in no way awkward.

"And you're a PA!" he says, face lighting up. I'm high as balls, and that might be affecting my thinking; but I swear that the entire cab of the guy's SUV just lit up from his smile. Holy shit, this guy is a fucking picture!

I smile ruefully, recognizing the shorthand. "Yeah, I'm in the performing arts department. Couldn't hide it."

He laughs at my lame joke. I guess he's feeling just as awkward as I am. I hope he'll invite me into his car soon.

"I knew I'd seen you around campus!" I nodded. I'm not sure how else I can add to this forced conversation; plus, I'd really like to know if he's going to give me a ride or if I have to keep walking.

The guy gives me a sympathetic look. "Where you going? You want a ride to campus, man?"

Um, fuck yes. "That'd be sweet." I say. He leans over and opens the passenger door for me, and I waste no time hopping in. The interior of his car is spacious and smells like Christmas. I close his door and he speeds along the road to campus.

"It smells like nutmeg in here." I comment.

The guy laughed. "It's a car freshener. I buy up all the snickerdoodle refills at Christmas so I can have them year-round." Oh great. A romantic.

I'm glad it's dark because he can't see me roll my eyes. "That's cute." I say.

He laughs again. "Whatever, you don't have to be polite. I'm a white girl inside."

This time I am genuinely moved to laugh, though only a chuckle. He's lame, but he knows it.

"So where am I dropping you off?" he asked, eyes on the road. I want to say his room. I want to say my room, with him in it. I want to tell him to pull the car over, put down the back seats, and fuck me senseless in the back of his car. But instead I tell him where I live.

"Oh, the honors dorm, huh? Shoulda known, since I hardly understand anything you say in class." We both laugh, but my mind is racing. Do I know this guy from class?

I go through my schedule. He's definitely not in any of my PA classes, those are so small I'd know. He's not in any of my English classes either, those are pretty small too. I look at him. He is slouched at the wheel, in a nondescript hoodie which does nothing to complement his statuesque figure. He's way too normal and fit to be in either of my departments. The only class that made sense would be my lit class.

I take a chance. "Dr. Jockey loves it when I talk. He thinks everything I say is gold."

The guy laughs again. "For real though! I remember when you got him talking about gender and bees while we were reading Henry III. That shit was hilarious!"

I remember him from class now. This gorgeous jock sits behind me and to the right, which is why I never see him. He never talks in class, he just shows up and listens to me debate Shakespeare with Dr. Jockey. What was his name? Jake? That's why I was so slow to recognize him from class- he's a much more frequent guest in my fantasies.

I do remember the bee thing. Dr. Jockey started the comparison; I only corrected it. I work up my best Dr. Jockey voice and say, "I am NOT getting into a gender issue about bees!" We both crack up, and the tension in the car loosens palpably. I look out the window, and I see the downtown strip passing by. We'll be at my dorm soon. I decide to just go for it.

"Listen, I don't mean to be a dick; but I'm super high and I don't think I know your name."

Apparently honesty was the way to go, because Hot Jock looks at me and says, "I'm Jackson. Pleasure to formally meet you." He offers his hand for me to shake, the one he's been using to shift gears. I take it, and tell him my name.

"I'm Hayden." We shake, and I swear his hand fits mine perfectly. His hand is warm and strong, I immediately picture it exploring the best parts of my body. I feel goosebumps running up my arm and I know for certain I've got it bad for Jackson.

The car rolls to a stop. We're outside my dorm. I open the car door but don't get out. The cab light turns on. "Thanks for the ride," I say.

"No problem," he breathes. It's very quiet in the car now. This straight guy has been giving me mixed signals all night. I look at his eyes, and find they are looking right back at me. The tension's back again, only different this time. I get the distinct feeling that this beautiful man wants to kiss me. I look at his heart-shaped face, the dark brunette hair, the chocolate eyes. I don't trust myself to venture further down, where I know his beautiful body is waiting for me. I distinctly want to kiss this beautiful man- excuse me, his name is Jackson. If he did it right now, I would let him. And I would let him do so much more. If he asked. But he's not going to ask, because he's straight. And I don't pursue straight guys. Jackson draws a breath.

The moment passes, and I climb out of the SUV. "See you around," Jackson calls as I close his passenger door. I strut up the walkway to my dorm's door. I turn around and wave at him, conscious of the very short shorts I am wearing. I stick my key in the door and turn it, and the door opens. Jackson is waiting in his car to make sure I get in my dorm okay. I'm so high, I can hardly believe what I'm about to do.

I turn around, look him dead in those gorgeous brown eyes, and I wink at him. He gives me a huge smile and I return it with a smaller, slower one; and I slink into my dorm and close the door. I lean against it as I listen to Jackson driving away. I breathe deeply, and I'm not sure if the hallway is pounding because I'm so high, or because of what I just did.

I do know this: I'm never skipping my Shakespeare lecture again.