If you've just discovered this series, I'd urge you to read the Prologue to Chapter 1, and maybe even start there. This is a slowly-building series that I'm trying to keep fairly realistic, the sexual awakening of a shy 18yo boy, then his budding romance with a girl. But I think there's enough erotica in each part to keep it interesting, even if you just start here.
Sunday, 10/30
Nia and I met at the campus library to do homework and study, something I personally needed to do because I'd been running around too much. And working. No shenanigans, just hanging out together. We found out we were both avid readers starting around 5
th
grade, mostly the classics. Some titles we talked about, and if I don't say who read it, it was both:
Pride and Prejudice
(her),
To Kill a Mockingbird, Brave New World, Jane Eyre
(her),
The Call of the Wild, Moby Dick, 1984
(me),
The Grapes of Wrath, Beloved
(her),
Tom Sawyer
and
Huck Finn, The Iliad
(me)
, The Catcher in the Rye
, etc.
We were surprised by how many books we'd both read, and from that list you get an idea of what kind of books she liked vs. what I liked. Which only reflects the differences between male and female, I think. There were plenty more that only one of us had read (for example:
Dune
for me,
Little Women
for her), but I should stop boring you.
For early dinner we went to a gyro shop near campus, and though they were new for me, they became a life-long favorite. Nia bought, saying I shouldn't have to buy all the time. That was nice, though a challenge for me because I'd internalized that the man always bought. But I guess that was for first dates, or the first few anyway. Nia and I had been morphing into a relationship for a while now, so I reasoned that it made sense that costs should be shared.
We were closer to the ZP house than my dorm, so I said I'd walk her home. She said I didn't have to, she'd be fine, but I reminded her that, "I'm a bit of an expert at spotting
wicked cracks
, so it would be best if I escorted you." She laughed delightfully at my callback to the Friday night ride-along with Gabby. "Careful, there's one now!
Easy
..." She giggled and took my hand to help her across, then continued to hold it the several blocks to her place.
I asked what she'd scored on the SAT, it must've been high because she was so smart. She proudly said she'd aced the Verbal section. "Not as good on Math, but still 90
th
percentile. How about you?"
"The opposite of you: aced Math, and pretty high on verbal." I'd said only 'pretty high' because I didn't want to brag; or really, beat her 90
th
percentile in Math. It wasn't a competition, after all. But she wanted to know how high my Verbal percentile was. "It's not important, really. Call it in the 90's."
"Baby, I know you're smart, you don't have to be ashamed of it. And I know you've read a lot, so your Verbal was probably really good. 97
th
? 98
th
?"
"99
th
," I said shyly. I didn't like to talk about my scores much with people, but my high school counselor was very impressed, and I won an award for acing the Math. Would've gotten the award for highest overall, but a Chinese guy beat me by one point. No worries, I didn't care about the numbers anyway. The ladies at the Boys' Home threw me a little party, but I wished they hadn't because after that some of the boys teased me about it. Nothing really mean, but stuff like, "Make room, here comes brainiac," or whatever.
"Wait, you aced Math and
almost
aced Verbal too? I knew you were smart of course, but that's crazy-smart! Now I wonder if I'm smart enough for you..."
"Don't say that, Nia! You're crazy-smart too. And anyway, I think Verbal is more important, and you aced that. Math is just something you might need if your interests lie in that direction, but you don't need much of it for everyday life."
"You seem okay with talking about your parents and your foster homes and stuff, so I hope you won't mind, but I wonder how much better you'd have done if they'd been around." I pondered that for a minute.
"Ya know, I really think maybe it was my foster experiences that made me this way." She looked at me like
how so?
"With real parents (and I was an only child) they'd have probably wanted me around them a lot and taken me places and stuff. And that would've been cool and all, but in foster care there wasn't a lot of that: your basic needs are met, food and shelter, but then you have a lot of time to yourself. So I lost myself in books, and I guess I learned a lot. I'd spend whole weekends at the library just learning stuff from reference books and magazines like Popular Science, then I'd check out novels or collections of short stories (especially science fiction) for the week. I was always reading: at lunch, at dinner, even in classes, which I didn't much have to pay attention to because I'd already read ahead 2 or 3 chapters in the textbooks. So yeah, that's hard to say. Their genes gave me my innate intelligence, but after that...I don't really know."
"Well I'm still sad that your parents were taken from you at such a young age, but I see what you're saying. Either way, you're crazy-smart and know so many things, and I'm proud to call you my boyfriend." Said simply, with a stretched-up kiss on the cheek for emphasis.
"Nia, I'm still pretty clumsy at relationships and stuff. Should I give you a ring or something to show that..."
"You already did, baby. This necklace!" She held up the gold wire heart pendant with cubic zirconia 'diamond' I'd given her just 2 weeks ago. "I tell everyone you gave it to me."
"
Ohhhhh
... I just thought it was pretty and you should have a pretty necklace, I didn't think of it like that."
"Well you
should
think of it like that, because I never take it off. I sometimes just hold it and think about you. To me the heart represents your love for me, and I cherish both." She reached up and kissed me on the cheek again, but this moment called for a proper kiss so I stopped us and turned to face her, holding her face with my hands and kissing her tenderly on the lips. Then we hugged tightly and she said, "I love you
so
much, Mark Livingston."
We walked the last block without saying anything, but our hands were clasped tightly. At the door she invited me in and we set our backpacks on a bench in the hallway. She took us to the kitchen and fixed us hot chocolates. "
With
marshmallows, right?" She remembered. We went and sat in the parlor, and different girls came through saying hi, some stopping or even sitting to chat with us.
Then I heard the 'click-clack' of high heels and knew Rita was coming. "Mr. Livingston, so good to see you!" I stood because a woman (what I considered a
grown
woman) had entered the room, and that's what you're supposed to do. I promise, it was only reflex, and I didn't do it to accept the hug she offered. The hug that, as always, mashed her large, firm breasts against my chest. Not to mention that she smelled heavenly, some floral-musky perfume. (
Rita has a lot of dialogue here, so just a reminder to read her with a British-African accent. Her looks make her exotic, but her accent amplifies that.)
"You two are still getting along fine, I see. How long has it been now?"
"Four weeks today since you first introduced us." Nia looked at me quizzically.
"You remember the date? And keep track of the weeks?"