Disclaimer: Like all lit stories this one would fit in multiple categories. This story has sexy tattooed girls, exhibitionism, and lots of light bondage. If those aren't your thing, stop now and find another story. Also, this story is a lot darker than I usually write and the characters will piss you off. They have few redeeming qualities. In fact, if you are upset by the end of the story then I've accomplished what I want as far as the tone I was able to convey.
*****
(Jace) Being a genius sucks.
For the record, I'm a genius.
Not the type of genius that's good in school and gets good grades from childhood on. Or the wheezy, asthmatic type that never sees the light of day. I'm the kind of genius you see on the television shows like "The Big Bang Theory." I graduated high school when most kids were still in elementary.
I had a bachelor's degree by the time I was 18. By the time I'd turned 24 I had my second doctorate. I did consult jobs for computer companies, and the University I'd graduated from allowed me to teach a few courses in software engineering, my specialty.
Since I was 14, I'd spent my spare time contracting out and had invested all my earnings into various emerging giants, Apple, Google, and Amazon to name a few. Now I had a savings account with seven zeros and could generally do whatever I wanted.
All this seems to contradict my original statement, right? My life should be perfect by most people's standards. Except for one thing... women!
I mean let's face it guys, the world revolves around women. We earn more money to attract women, we work out our bodies to attract women, and we will do the absolute dumbest things conceivable in order to what...? Say it with me fellas, attract women.
This is a problem when you have a great big intellectual wall that separates you from the rest of society, let alone the more interesting half.
Here's a myth I want to dispel. Geniuses don't like women, we like to spend our time in intellectual pursuits. That's the biggest load of crap imaginable. I was ahead of the game in every way growing up. Believe me, I noticed the difference between men and women well ahead of my peers. I never went through the stage of thinking girls had cooties. I thought they were wonderful from the get-go. Which makes wooing them even more of a problem when you're a genius.
Let me put it in perspective for you. While growing up, despite my vast intellect I still shared the same problems as the rest of the kids my age acne, puberty, social learning, etc. Imagine as an adult you could only talk to kids in elementary school, and you had to talk to them about politics, education, news, and everything else. How soon would you want to pull your hair out? Yes, I lacked the experience of the adults in my life, however, I did not lack understanding of political climes, newsworthy events, and even the pressures of having a job. In this I could talk to adults as an equal, but who wants to talk to adults when you're a teenager? I wanted to talk to girls, but talking to girls was the mental equivalent to talking to a group of third graders to me. Yeah, the teenage girls were pretty to look at, but then they'd open their mouths and the only thing I could think of was, "Dear god, would you please shut up. Who gives a flying fuck who went to the mall this weekend with so and so's boyfriend," or whatever else they were talking about.
You would think this would dissipate somewhat as I got to college. I mean yeah, I was working on my doctorate when they were starting, but finally, intelligent conversation. Wrong! (singing in tune to church bells) Wrong, wrong, wrong, wrong, you're wrong, so so wrong!
If anything, it got worse, because now they thought they were adults and knew everything, yet they still talked about "The Voice," or "America's got Talent" and how big a deal it was. God save me and end it now!
Plus, I had my own stigma. While I knew I was considered pretty good looking, and unlike most nerdy geniuses I kept in shape and played sports I found that I was a bit of a social outcast. Not many people wanted to hang out with the weird kid.
So, there were very few women in my life. I'd had a few girlfriends in high school, and I wasn't a virgin, but nothing ever lasted.
Fast forward to present day, I was eating lunch at the school cafeteria when a colleague of mine walked into dining hall. It was a busy day with few open seats but he noticed I was at a table of four by myself. Making a beeline to me he tilted his head in a silent question and I gave a short nod back acknowledging him to sit with me.
Chance was another gifted individual, but not on my level. He graduated at normal times but he was top of his class. He was one of those ridiculously good-looking guys that lived for academic life. He was smart, good looking and very impressive to fresh faced coed girls that were generally experiencing their first time away from home and wanted to show they weren't dumb by hooking up with a professor type.
He also had something of a tough guy image. Despite the fact he was a professor he looked like he belonged in a motorcycle gang. I knew he cultivated the impression. He actually came from old money. He kept his long black hair in a ponytail, and had a close-cropped goatee. He stood a couple inches shorter than me at 5' 10" and was close to two hundred pounds. He tended to wear jeans and work boots with his shirt and jacket. I know I wasn't really a fashion example myself, I tended to dress for comfort versus style, but in my opinion, he looked like an idiot. Kind of like a cross between gang banger and teacher. Which is what I assumed he was going for.
Regardless, I was friends with Chance for a couple of reasons. We'd worked on a couple of projects together, he was smart, and he didn't fill the air with useless chatter. Don't get me wrong, his morality was questionable at best and he was roughly five years older than me but we had the same interests so he was one of the few people I got along with.
We ate in silence but for the drone of the people around us.
After a while Chance looked up, "Hey dude, I need to ask you a favor."
I inwardly groaned. Chance tended to ask me for lots of favors, he knew I was a bit of a social outcast and even though we were friends I always got the feeling that he felt being his friend was a status symbol. That I should be honored or something.
His favors tended to orient around girls and covering for him in some way or another.
He explained that he wanted me to be his wife's study partner this weekend before finals. She was finishing her degree and if she got good grades on her finals she'd graduate with honors.
I was actually impressed for once. That feeling evaporated with his next sentence.
"And I need you to make sure and keep her busy all weekend. I've got some coeds coming in from an out-of-state school," he said with a wink and an exaggerated leer.
And there it was, "You've got to be kidding me," I said.
"I'm serious."
I stared at my friend for a while as he gave me his best pleading expression. It didn't help, it actually made me want to punch him in the face. Chance was a fellow professor and a friend, but what he was asking for was close to crossing the bounds of our relationship on both levels. It was one thing to cover if somebody asked for you, an entirely different thing to take part in the subterfuge.
"I need a weekend with her not asking any questions."
I shook my head, "Man, you're an idiot. Kiera is one of the most beautiful girls I've ever seen and you're messing around on her. Are you stupid?"
"Kiera is cool and all but she's kind of boring in bed, you know what I mean? I need you to study with her this weekend. I promise that's all."
"Yeah, until the next time. I don't want to get in the middle of your drama."
"I promise there'll be no drama. Kiera knows you, she thinks you're cool. Just cover me so I can get a little free time. You know what I mean."
He gave me a lecherous grin and nudged my arm with his elbow. The urge to punch him in the face doubled.
I try not to judge other people, not out of any religious morality or anything but simply because I know how I am and I don't like anybody judging me. I'm condescending as hell and generally believe most people have the intelligence of a toaster oven, which, compared to me is true, so I certainly don't feel the right to judge others on their transgressions.
The problem I had with him over this was I didn't want to be dragged into his drama. I hated other people's sordid affairs. Kiera was his wife and if he wanted to cheat on her I didn't care. If he wanted to date a new girl every week, more power to him, just leave me out of it.
I personally didn't understand cheating. Like most regular emotions it was a concept that seemed weird to me. If you wanted to mess around with multiple women why would you marry one? I knew I didn't understand people most of the time but this behavior really baffled me. He kept looking and asking me to do him this favor. I knew he was using me because Kiera was my age and since I didn't have a girlfriend, he felt that my getting to hang with his hot wife would be a win for me.
Rolling my eyes, "Fine, I'll do it."
"Fuck yeah," Chance said, he jumped up and high-fived me which I only halfheartedly returned.
"I owe you," he said, slapping me on the back.
*****
And that's how I found myself standing in front of their small apartment complex on a Saturday afternoon. I'd dressed casual in simple sweats, black Batman t-shirt, and sneakers. Clouds dotted the sky on a warm and sunny late-May spring day. Earlier, I'd texted Kiera what time I'd be there so I knew she'd be expecting me as I rang her doorbell. When she opened the door, I looked up and smiled. Kiera was a vision, she was exceptionally beautiful Latina of medium height with curly ringlets of raven-black hair framing an oval face with lightly tanned skin. Her cheekbones were sharp and high, her features near perfect, she looked a little like Emily Ratajkowski. Most extraordinary were her eyes, almond shaped and brilliantly blue. She wore black spandex gym shorts that showed most of her tanned sculpted legs and a tight-fitting pink sport bra that that was being strained by her large D sized tits.
She'd played for the college soccer team for four years so her body was the perfect combination of youth and muscle. But what really did it for me, were her tattoos. She wasn't a goth girl, but she did have multiple sexy tattoos. One arm had black and white geometric patterns from her elbow to wrist. Her opposite leg had two Koi fish and the center of her chest below her tits had roses.
"Hey," she said.
I was momentarily breathless. I'd known her for more than a year now and she still took my breath away every time I saw her. Looking into her eyes, I was spellbound. They were the most vibrant blue eyes I'd ever seen. The term "liquid sapphire" always popped into my head when I looked into her eyes, and with her long dark lashes and light brown skin she was captivating. A flash of annoyance at Chance rushed through me as I remembered my purpose today was to distract her.
"Hey Kiera," I said while giving her a heads up. "How are you?"
"Fine. You?"
