This is a work of fiction. It is also in an entire different universe. This chapter taps the different universe, more will be shown later as the disparity grows.
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My name is Victor Gallagher, and, to best describe myself, I'm a geek. So much of one, in fact, I chose to go from wire frame glasses to a pair of Buddy Holly frames (y'know the thick, black frames). All through high school I had pretty bad acne around the jaw line that wouldn't even go away with anti-acne prescriptions. Add that to pale white skin, red hair, an average build with no real muscle tone, no job, and no car and you realize why I wasn't popular with the ladies. Sure they talked to me, I was a nice, sweet guy, but I never had a real chance; except for when a rich sophomore asked me out senior year. I fucked it up though; I wasn't talkative enough her. Some things work out, we turned out to be great friends, and after all, she only dated closeted gay guys, so I'm glad it didn't work out between us.
So, here I am, three months as an 18-year-old and into college. (I started kindergarten early and the University of Missouri-Saint Louis started on my birthday.) I didn't have enough financial aid to get a dorm so I work at Steak 'n' Shake to pay rent. (I share an apartment with my thirty-something 'uncle.') My 'uncle' (alright, he's just one of my dad's best friends, but he's like an uncle) drives back to my house every other Sunday to play Dungeons and Dragons with my old friends, my other 'uncle' (same story, only more so), and my dad and so I can do laundry. Back at college, I'm a first year nursing student. It looks like I'm in the top of my class, so woot!
The bad thing about UM-SL is its location. Saint Louis is a big city, rivaling New York, Los Angeles, and Chicago, in both population and crime. It's a pretty bad place to live. It used to be a decent place to live before my family moved out the first time, now though, only The Hill is relatively safe from the gangs, but there are rumors of mafia there. The apartment I live is in one of the better neighborhoods, we have a good cop across the cul-de-sac. Sgt. Merkel keeps our streets clean – well, cleaner than the surrounding streets at least.
The great thing about UM-SL is the lack of Friday classes, so before I go to work (usually at 4:30 pm) I go to the college pool and swim laps. Between my cycling to campus occasionally, swimming, daily pushups and sit-ups, and eating healthy, I lost twenty pounds of fat off of my 164 pound frame and gained 8 pounds of trim muscle. Now, I don't have a six-pack or anything yet, but I lost my love handles and sculpted my former 'ghetto booty' into a tight enough ass to garner compliments from my new girl friends. They, while having flirted and/or playing a few rounds of grab ass, don't declare a desire of any kind of sexual or romantic relationship with me. So, I'm left to my right hand to relieve my stress. However, my private time is down from high school (4-6/week to biweekly) because of more exercise.
I guess your wondering why I'm still a virgin. After all, I'm much better looking than high school and I'm pretty damn smart. I have...issues. You see, I have all kinds of moral limitations on myself. I don't want to lose my virginity to a drunken whore; I want my first time to be special. I want it to be with someone I love. But, I can't get a girlfriend because I'm too nice of a guy apparently. I still get the let's just be friends routine even after some flirting. Maybe it's because I'm too stupid (academics aside) to make a move; I'm too shy to go for it. Or, maybe it's because I'm already in love with someone. Which I am, I love Darla Stacy, my best friend. She goes to Webster University as an Anthropology/Dance dual-major. Yet, for three, going on four, years she's maintained a platonic stance, even though I've stated my intentions and she has said that she'd marry me when I ask her; which I fully intend to as soon as I graduate with my B.S.N.
As I said, I room with my uncle. We live in a decent apartment not far from campus. I usually make some extra money by helping neighbors around their apartments, cleaning, going for groceries. After all, I have really good memory and don't have to study much so I take the surplus cash how I can. My most frequent client is our neighbor across the hall: Shauna Wilson, a thirty-six year old mother of two. She works two jobs so she gives me twenty bucks every two weeks to go grocery shopping for her, and another twenty to clean her apartment and watch her two kids. They're good kids, so when I need to study I can while I'm babysitting. Actually, back home, they wouldn't need to be watched. Then again, I come from --------, an all-white town with very little crime. While not quite Smallville from the movies, it fits Smallville from the TV series. Only, less hotties per capita. The kids, two boys, are twelve and eight and when I bring my video game console over they stay quiet except for casual yelling like "that kill was crap Alex!"
Shauna and I had gotten to know each other the past couple of months. We become quite friendly, with her usually talking for a good half-hour over sodas before I return to my room. I'm pretty sure we've been flirting for a large portion of time, because she always finds an excuse to graze my elbow or knee while we're chatting. I know I should recognize flirting, especially if I'm doing it, but I can't. Just about anytime I talk to a fairly pretty girl, my actions and demeanor are always said to be flirtatious.
Tuesday night before Thanksgiving break, Shauna had to come home late and when she arrived, Alex and Will were already asleep. She came in flustered and exhausted. She crashed into her armchair and, like always, I couldn't help but admire her mature beauty. Her raven hair cascaded to just below her shoulders with full body. She had perfect bedroom eyes, such sultry sexiness showed her experience. Her dark chocolate colored face was finely sculpted except for the laugh lines and crow's feet, which I thought only made her sexier. Her t-shirt hugged her breasts like a glove; her wondrous grapefruit sized breasts standing proud. She had a little bit of pooch around her middle, but that softness, while taking away from sexiness, added to her overall attractiveness. She looked approachable, but I considered her to be too old to be worth an attempt, not because of her age but because of my youth. I didn't think an eighteen-year-old, especially me, would stand a chance to have a relationship with her.
"Hi Victor, thanks for staying so late." She breathed with a casual smile and closed eyes.
"No problem Miss Wilson, what're neighbors for?" This is rare for me, I usually call respected elders by their first names, as was the practice in my old Scout troop. However, the exception, then and now are teachers, and Shauna was an elementary teacher. So the habit stuck.
"How many times do I have to tell you? Call me Shauna; I'm only Miss Wilson between eight and three. Other than that, my name tag reads Shauna." Shauna worked as a waitress to supplement her inner-city teacher's salary. She groaned as she bent forward to remove her tennis shoes. "It's not like I was ever your teacher."
"Okay Miss Wilson, I mean Shauna. Sorry, old habits die hard. I'm guessing your boss talked you into a double tonight."
"Yeah, it wouldn't have been as a bad if I didn't keep getting parties that weren't tipping. I swear, more than half didn't tip tonight including a bunch of Japanese businessmen. I don't even know why it was so busy on a Tuesday." She shot a sly grin at me. "I know this is asking a bit much, but I would really appreciate a foot massage."
I could actually feel my face reddening. "It would be my pleasure after all I never turn down a pretty woman, but how about you lay down on the couch so I don't have to sit on the floor." In reality, I didn't have any problem with sitting on the floor, I didn't want to stand up and reveal my erection. Luckily for me, Shauna acquiesced and lay on the couch with her feet resting on my thigh. She put a pillow under her head, above the armrest, and closed her eyes. I went to work on her feet. I rubbed my thumbs under the arch, and then move to the heels. She lets out a moan of release as I vigorously kneading her heels and move to her Achilles' tendon.
"You're really good, have you been taking any massage classes at college?"
"Nah, but my mom is a nurse and my best friend is a dancer, so I learned how to give good foot rubs early." I moved upwards, caressing her calves, feeling the firm muscles against my hands, thinking how I would love to have them rub up higher, and wishing she was naked, her pussy open to my ministrations. My penis twitched with the very thought.
Shauna sat up and gently touched my hands. "What other massages are you good at? I need a good rub down." She asked in a sultry half-moan, her eyes sparkling.
"Well, I've been complimented on my back and neck massages." I was too naïve to catch the double entendre, so I was completely dumbfounded when she put one hand behind my head and leaned forward to kiss me. Wow! It was my first real kiss, her tongue jutted out, quickly entwining mine. I didn't know what I was doing so I just went with the flow; I started wrestling her tongue with mine. My eyes were snapped shut out of reflex and my hands went to her hips, moving in small up and down strokes. I felt her grab my right hand and move it to her left breast. I gently caressed her bosom and felt her bra under the cotton tee-shirt. Her other hand reached for my butt and squeezed, to which I jumped up, startled, but soon relaxed. My left hand moved on its own accord to squeeze her large, round ass. She broke the kiss and took my hand from her breast, but just as I caught my breath she redoubled her attack on my tonsils. My hand returned to her boob and I realized there was no longer a tee shirt covering her spectacular breasts. She moved her legs and strattled my hips so I was leaning back with the small of my back on the arm rest as she was vigorously kissing me. My thumb started to trace circles over her hardened nipple through her brassiere as she started rubbing her crotch into mine. My cock was as hard as steel and wanting to be free of its denim prison.
I moved my left hand from her magnificent bum and moved it upward, following her spine, to her bra strap. I pondered whether or not to try to unhook it and make myself look like a complete virgin or return my hand to softer pastures. I chose to cower and move my hand back to her ass whilst she was gyrating on my jean encased crotch. Her hands, having returned to behind my neck and my ass, moved to my belt buckle and she tried to unfasten the hook without breaking the embrace.
"I can't." I whimpered as I pulled away from her heavenly mouth. I opened my eyes and drew in her bra-encased tits. The white fabric contrasted beautifully with her dark chocolate complexion.
Her face contorts to show a look of surprise and mild anger. "What do you mean you can't? I can tell someone wants to play. Is it because I'm black?"
Again, I can feel the blood, the ten cells that aren't in my penis, rush to my cheeks. "No. Not at all. I...I...just..."
"Is it because I'm old enough to be your mother?"
"No, wait a minute. Thirty-six minus eighteen equals eighteen. Yeah, you are old enough. No, that's not why." Sometime after, I realized why I was still a virgin at that point.
