As college roommates go, Samantha was about as good as they get. She was a mature, sexy, woman of the world at 20. Her grades were good, she didn't hog the common room television and she didn't come in at all hours of the night.
We had her set of friends, I had mine, and are paths seldom crossed except when we were in our room or at breakfast at The Owl.
She knew when to leave me along, knew when to offer words of encouragement, and pitched in to keep out home away from home a pleasant place and relatively livable.
Still, heading into our second year as roommates, Samantha remained a bit of a mystery to me. While she had a lot of friends, she didn't seem to many guy friends. I on the other hand, had a slew of them, but most were either a little too nerdy for my taste or hooked up and dated friends rather than me.
Samantha and I would joke at how we had to date Mr. Right Vibe from time to time, although not knowingly in each other's company. I once did wake to moans coming in the middle of the night from the other side of the room, but quickly put my pillow over my head to block Samantha's personal moments with herself from my ears.
My eyes were opened to a new side of Samantha one Friday night at a mixer in the student union. There I was sharing a pitcher of draft beer with some of my sorority sisters when one asked how it was like to room with a woman like Samantha.
"She's a great roomie," I replied. "Sam couldn't be any nicer. And what I really like is that she is always willing to do her share around our room. I mean, I've never had a roommate who actually helped with the laundry before."
There were a series of nervous smiles around the table.
"Uh, Mary, that's probably because she's smelling your panties or doing whatever they do!" said Courtney.
I looked at the girl as if she were from Mars. "That's gross," was all my mouth could muster.
"Oh come on, Mary, tell us, what's it like to live with a lesbian?" said Dee. "I mean, you aren't, well, you know..."
"I am surely not!" I replied with an air of indignity. "And neither is Samantha."
The table was full of women staring at each other, as if a major revelation was about to me made. Finally, Courtney broke the spell. "Mary, I can't believe you didn't know this, especially since she's your roommate, but your darling roomie is a lesbo. She dating Karen Ficaro, and I was told she had a thing with Mrs. England last year."
"Mrs. England, surely not," was my incredulous reply. "The history prof? You have got to be kidding."
"It's no joke," said Dee. "Jennifer Cross saw the two of them together at Arnie's Bar down the shore once, and they were all over each other in a booth. No, your roommate likes girls. I mean, she doesn't have guys calling all day and all night now, does she?"
Come to think of it, Samantha was somewhat quiet about her personal life. We'd talk and joke about boys from time to time, but I had never met a male date of hers. I had been around, though, when she left the dorm with a girl friend of hers. Somehow, in my own naive state, I never put one and one together to make two.
My eyes and ears were wide open from that point forward. I didn't say anything, but I think my inner emotions must have show through for late one Tuesday night Samantha called over to me after lights out.
"Mary, is something wrong? Have I offended you in any way," asked Samantha, concern in her voice. "Come on, you can tell me."
Whatever possessed me, I can't recall, but after a bit of a pause I merely asked my roommate if she liked girls. I think I said something to the tune of, "Uh, well, since you asked, Sam, uh, well..."
Not a lot of substance to that sentence, I thought. I stammered some more, until finally Samantha begged me to spit it out.
"Are you a lesbian?" I replied.
There was quiet from the other side of the room. I heard covers moving, as Samantha sat up in bed.
"No," was the word, but there was more. She flipped on the light and looked at me. "I have to admit I don't like guys as much as the average girl, I guess, and yes, I have been with a woman, so I guess I would have to say I'm bi."
"You mean you..."
"Uh huh, I've been with a woman. Yes. Do you hate me?" questioned my roommate.
I didn't know the answer to that. I mean, I surely didn't hate her. I'm no prude, but I'd been brought up to believe that it was the cock that was the thing girls had to be wary of, that it was a penis which could cause us all kinds of trouble. I hadn't spent much time thinking of women in any vague sort of a sexual way. Yet here my friend and roommate declares that she has had intimate relationships with another female.
Nothing came to mind, so I merely said, "Okay. I'm fine with that." The room was quiet for a while, and I felt like I had to say something. But I didn't know what. So I merely copped out. "I'm going to bed now, Sam. Good night and sleep tight."
The subject didn't come up again for several weeks. In that time my mind was a jumble of emotions. I really didn't think it was terrible, that Samantha was a switch-hitter as my friends said. I really just didn't know what to think or say. Samantha was so normal in so many ways, she was a friend, and if she, well, liked girls as well as guys, who was I do put it down.
The more I thought about it, the whole idea of being with another woman intrigued me. This despite knowing in the pit of my heart that men and women were the chosen way to share the sexual experience. I didn't particularly like my own body, but I surely looked at some of the other girls with envy. Some looked good in whatever they wore, others were bountiful in the right places. I was merely plain.
My curiosity finally got the best of me one Friday night. Samantha and I had hit the sack, separately, just after midnight. I had spent the night on an uneventful movie date, one which ended with a peck on the cheek from a guy who really didn't do anything for me. Sam had come in just after me, and after heading down the hall for a shower, re-entered the room clothed only in a bath towel.
I looked up from my book when she re-entered the room. As was recent custom, she quickly dried off then threw on a tee shirt and panties for bed.
"Hey Sam, you know it's okay if you take your time and really dry off," I said with a chuckle.
She laughed. "Well with my bodacious body I just didn't want to turn you on so much you would turn into a l-e-s-b-i-a-n or something!"
We shared a laugh, split a coke, and then slipped under the covers of our respective beds. After a while, I got up the nerve to ask the long unasked question.
"Sam, what's it like? I mean, you know, with another woman?" There. I said it. I asked the question I had wanted to ask since her revelation.
"Do you really want to know?" she replied?
I thought about her question for a bit before answering in the affirmative.
"It's very exciting, it's satisfying, it can be very special, but I think that's true no matter who your partner is," said Samantha. "Don't you feel something like that with guys you've been with? I know I have felt that way with guys. I think what turns me on about a woman is how sensitive we are. I mean, how many times have the guys you've dated left you wanting for something more. Now, I'm not saying it's for everyone, but I know that being with a woman can be extremely satisfying for me. If...it's the right woman."
We talked for more than an hour about some of her relationships, some of the highs, some of the lows. Samantha revealed that she lost her virginity in the back seat of a Ford after her senior prom, having just turned 18. She had sex with three other men since the first, but had enjoyed five women since her first foray into the wild side of sexuality. She told me that the most intense orgasms she has had have come from a woman, but that she still enjoys and has yearnings for cock.
I relayed my three experiences with men, and how two were less than enjoyable quick romps. A relationship with Jon, a guy I had dated for two years, was satisfying in the sex department, despite his being a jerk for leaving me with no warning for a tart from college.
We laughed, so much that it nearly turned to tears, as we discussed our highs and lows of dating and sex. Like the time Samantha's parents caught her asleep in their bed --- along with a boyfriend. Or the time I was orally pleasing Jon in a parking lot after dinner when a bright police flashlight caught us in the act.
Along the way I steered the conversation back toward her lesbian tendencies, and wondered which was more satisfying to her, guys or girls?
