Invitation To Treat

11 was an odd number; it reminded Freshman Jorge of his unhappiness. He longed to make it even.

As he laid out all 11 panties, he saw each girl in front of him, naked and bruised, struggling to get up from the floor. In his revelry they were abducted from their rooms, those who used to smile at him and those who did not, dragged by their hair across the hallway's harsh carpet. He had them tied up like Christmas gifts.

"Better find a wheelchair to lie in, once I'm done with all of you..."

Jorge had collected panties from every girl on his floor except one.

That despicable bible chick at the end of the hallway. The tag on her door said "Mckenzie." Every week her whiteboard had some inspirational bullshit from her good book. "Do the right thing!"

She had dark hair and dark eyes but was very pale and not much taller than a garbage bin. Not terrible-looking, but certainly undatable, unless those granny clothes were taken off her little body.

He saw Mckenzie around campus with some other freaks harassing people with their cheap pamphlets. "Dangers of abortion." "Your body is a temple." "A celibate love." Jorge cringed. Who still believed in craps like that?

But the truth was, Jorge wouldn't have hated Mckenzie as much if she'd not always locked her door.

No one else locked their door around here. It was a good college and no one stole things. No one even shut the doors, just leaving them ajar. That way one got more airflow, and also avoided the inevitable loud slamming.

Except for Mckenzie. Jorge constantly heard that door slamming from the end of the hallway. So did everyone else. There was even an email complaining about it. But she hardly gave a shit for others, despite of her pretense. The slamming continued.

Until one day.

Jorge was on his way to make water when he noticed Mckenzie's door was unlocked. An understatement; it's left open, like a pandora's box beckoning.

He heard showering from women's bathroom. He looked over his shoulder and at her door again. It was late night Friday, the floor's empty, everyone else out partying off campus. Must be her taking the shower then.

Jorge just needed sixty seconds. He had gotten incredibly good at unearthing secrets in a stranger's room. The trick was to go straight for their dirty laundry. No time to search for clean ones stashed away neatly in drawers. That might cause a disorder and they'd find out.

Plus, dirty ones worked better anyway. The rich odor would linger for weeks.

He had no interest to romanticize this woman. Even the idea of it came as a little gross. He just wanted to make up his collection.

He took a head dive and sneaked behind Mckenzie's door.

Jorge felt like entering a convent. Walls stripped all bare apart from a cross over the bed. A brick of a book laid flat on the desk next to a mug of coffee. No immediate sign of her laundry though.

He searched the wardrobe. The scarcity of colors there was predicable. He opened the drawers near bed and saw the neatly stacked chaste white panties.

This would do, he thought, though he was a bit disappointed by the lack of variety. He went for the bottom of the stack then felt something else lying; a peculiar object. He took it out.

A purple dildo! With a curve and a smaller branch on top to spice things up. Gotcha, you little slut! Jorge found himself shaking with excitement.

He inspected it. There was a button. He pressed out of curiosity and nearly jolted; the vibration was so strong it swung out of his grip. On the floor the toy moved like a big worm, its buzzing sound filled the room.

Suddenly Jorge heard someone humming a tune in the hallway.

Shit, Mckenzie's back.

He scrambled to close the drawer, grabbed the vibrating dildo, and hid under her bed. He made it stop just before she pushed open the door.

Jorge watched the girl's small feet in slippers shuffling in. She put down her shower bucket and moved around the room to perform her little rituals before bed. He stayed still. Then she turned off the light and came kneeling by her bed.

Jorge stopped breathing. He smelled a pleasant coconut scent that must be from her body wash. Mckenzie began praying.

"Help me forgive myself, my Lord, just as I ask for forgiveness from you. For I have sinned again today. I let my mind wander in ways I know are not right. It shames me to recount my thoughts, but I endeavor to be completely honest with you my Lord, so lend me strength and peace..."

In Jorge's astonishment she began to tell her fantasies in such vivid details that he was soon stiff in his pants. The tales seemed to have affected the girl herself. Her voice became weak and unsteady, and finally ceased.

He heard the bedside drawer open and clothes' soft rustling. She was looking for her dildo. He grabbed the missing item tight in his hand, afraid that she might start a search.

After a brief effort the girl cursed and stood up. She didn't turn the light back on. He heard her weight pressing against the mattress. She was in bed.

Now Jorge wondered how he'd get himself out. Maybe she'd sleep like a corpse and he could sneak out. He would need to be very careful about opening the door, for it was locked again.

The Mckenzie girl turned out to be a poor sleeper. She was constantly tossing about like a caught fish, now on her back, now on her belly, legs kicking against the mattress.

He waited for her to quiet down but it only grew worse.

Perhaps he'd have to stay all night until tomorrow. He agonized in the darkness. You got what you deserve, idiot. He'd be exposed. He'd be expelled. His name would be all over the local news.

Then Jorge heard something else. At first he thought the girl was crying. Then it got louder, her breathing came out in ragged gasps. Accompanying it was a watery noise, a gentle rhythmic splatter.

It took him a few guesses to connect the dots here. By then the bed started to creak, and Mackenzie was in her falsetto.

In darkness Jorge was hard and drooling. His mind began to conceive of an unthinkable deed. It'd be unthinkable one moment ago for him to want Mackenzie, but never was he so close to a girl, and she's inches from him touching herself... There's nothing else he could do. He kicked off his shoes and loosened his pants.

Sounded like she'd just rode another wave. She's quiet now, breathing softly, building for the next momentum.

Like shadow the young man crept out from under the bed. He saw her white panties wrapped around her knees and her arm between her thighs. In an instant he climbed over her.

Before the girl could scream Jorge put his hand over her mouth.

No one's in the dorm tonight. Not one soul would hear her muffled cries. Her legs were kicking, her hands waving and nearly scratching open his face.

"Stop or you'll be sorry." He sounded like a cartoon cast.

He crushed his entire weight upon her, seizing her two wrists and pinning her legs down with his knees.

Mckenzie's struggles ceased. She must have realized it was a hopeless fight. In the darkness he felt her wide open eyes staring at him in fear. She was waiting for what could come next.

All Jorge heard was the thumping of his own heart. He had a naked girl under him and suddenly didn't know what to do. He thought of grabbing the pillow and smothering her, but the morbid idea made him shiver. He felt her breathing on his throat and in the confusion took one of her hands by wrist and guided it towards his groin.

The moment her fingers touched him she shrieked and nearly bolted away. He persisted. She was sobbing in irregular pattern. Then her fingers found their way back. Soon she grasped him whole, though it was only a gentle grasp, as if afraid to break what she held.

He gave out a sigh because it felt good. A woman's touch was softer and colder.

Then Mckenzie's hand locked around him and applied pressure with an earnest that surprised Jorge. In her tight grasp he grew even harder. He grabbed her thighs and pulled her down to him.

He was rubbing against her in all the wrong places, like a blind man playing darts. A little too north, a little too south. Like those one of the alleyways you needed to turn into but kept driving past by.

But that seemed to have made her feel good. Emm. Emm. She uttered as if to affirm an earlier statement. She had been very quiet, but he still remembered how she moaned earlier. He could feel she was very wet even on the outside.

Finally he found the right entrance. It was like slipping into a warm sweater on a snow day. He held the girl close and pushed further inroad. He had no idea if she's virgin, but she was tight, even when well lubricated. He had to proceed gingerly or it'd hurt.

After a while her passage loosened up somewhat.

Jorge was ready to pick up the pace when he felt her elbows pointed against his chest.

"Hey." Her voice sounded as if he had merely blocked her way in a supermarket aisle.

She slipped out of bed and bent in front of the drawers. She opened each of them. What happened? He listened to her restless scavenging with panic returning.

When she came back with rubber he'd gone soft. She knelt on bed and bent down as if worshipping him. He was in her mouth. Jorge was stunned by her audacity. He soon grew back to fill her mouth and throat, and she sucked with an enthusiasm.

He almost came but held back, and it was one of the hardest things he'd done in life.

Mckenzie sized up his girth from root to top, tore the package open and slid the rubber down on him.

Then she stood up and flung something white over the cross. He realized it was her panties. What a strange whore! He was amazed. She turned around and dropped on fours with her pale shoulder blades facing him like wings still hatching.

"Take me this way."

They fucked for half an hour. She had a clock on desk and the red digits were blinking. He tried to keep the rhythm with its blinking but found himself lagging behind again and again.

The room was stuffy. They were both covered in sweat; her hair was soaked, sweat almost boiling formed on his own chest to land on her back, drop by drop. A few times Jorge nearly came. And he caught a strange smell of urine too; it was everywhere and electrifying.

Finally it got so hot as to be unbearable; they were two fellow pilgrims in a scorching desert, having run out the last supply of water. Both ceased the action around the same beat. The moment he was out of her it was like leaving behind a fever dream. The little woman under him suddenly seemed wretched and lame as she always had been.

"Open the window." Mckenzie said.

Jorge looked out with disinterest. There were people smoking suspicious joints and chatting on the street, sorority girls in heels heading to the next party. A car blasting beats down the road.

The woman squatted near her small fridge and opened. It's almost empty, just a few canned drinks.

"Zero or diet?" He heard her say.

The girl turned back judging at him, the bluish light from the fridge casting half of her face in a ghostly hue.

"Zero or diet?" She repeated her interrogation.

Jorge answered Zero, though he never knew there was a difference.

She handed the drink to him, her arm extended as far as she could, like she wouldn't take any extra step towards him. He met her half way and accepted the offer.

It was cold. He cracked it open with almost a commercials sound effect, and poured it down his throat. So he broke into someone's room, forced her against her will, and now he's drinking her coke.

The awkwardness hang in the air as they leaned against opposite side of the room. In the dimness her unflattering shape could barely be made out against the wall. He heard the carbon dioxide burping up her throat. Was she looking at him too?

He suddenly wanted to spend the rest of his life plowing this woman on her little bed, whether she likes or not. If she disagrees then he'd keep going until she changes her mind.

Silence and darkness. He was cooled enough.

Then he heard her small voice:

"You want to continue?"

Like gladiators they climbed back into the arena.

They tried every position they could think of. In some he dominated her, in others she led him. It was the utmost confusion, where all orders were lost, where host changing place with the guest, and the hunter became the prey.

The limit of geometry meant there was only so many possible angles, but he kept gaining momentum in each slight tweak. They were like a many-limbed curiosity, tumbling around in sheet with intertwined legs and strange sounds.

A primal thirst glued their bodies together. He won't let her go and neither would she.

Their arms and legs became each other's prison. But it was not love; they fucked like they hated each other's guts. They'd rather eat themselves alive, devouring limbs and licking flesh clean from the bones....

And Jorge realized he was playing losing game.

He thought he had the girl overpowered, stretched loose and waving white flag. But from every fall to shameful abyss Mckenzie returned stronger. She was learning and getting better with what her body was capable of, and control it in such ways that maximized her pleasure at the young man's expense.

He began to feel light and dizzy in the head. She climbed on top and he was ridden like a tired out pony. She had not much meat on her frame and almost all of it was in her thighs and hips. She put arms around his neck and slammed her entire weight upon him.

"Slow down. Wait. Please!" He was short of breath.

"No. Not yet... Stay with me."

She kissed him and bit his lower lip so hard it drew blood. He cried out. She fished in his mouth and liaised with his tongue.

He came.

Jorge lay back, his soul having departed the body. He was floating somewhere around the ceiling of the room, looking down, and found himself with arms stretched out a little like christ on the cross.

But Mckenzie kept grinding and slapping. In her victory she became relentless. From there it was pure agony for Jorge. His body was not designed to reach another natural release in such a short time. He wanted to die but couldn't. She had him pinned firmly between her thighs, forcing him to stay stiff and sucking his soul away little by little.

Then in one stroke he went loose again.

It was dry and intense; a tearing pain stopped him seeing for a few seconds.

Jorge felt the condom taken off him; as vision slowly returned he opened his eyes to see her spill it in her mouth, in the pale streetlight her throat moved in a beautiful and grotesque manner.

For a long time he lay there like a cold corpse. She licked his nipples and warmed up to his cheeks. She put him into her mouth again and covered it in her saliva. But no matter how hard she tried he remained a soft pathetic display, an utter failure of manhood.

"Get off my bed." Her voice turned hoarse. He was pushed off her lair.

Jorge collected his clothes and fled.

Before he left he saw her kneeling in front of her bed praying in a trance.

"Forgive me o forgive me o forgive me..."

Jorge wasted his next few days in despair. He threw away all the stolen panties in a bag, and almost had a heart attack at every police siren. He stopped going to classes. He had become an invalid in his room, drawing the curtain completely in and not venturing one step outside.

He knew he was entirely at her mercy now. No one would believe what he said. Every evidence was against him. She would have him locked away for years for what he did!

He was miraculously transformed into a penitent. He kept a beard and started writing his plea, but the battled words brought him no peace. In truth he was already serving prison time on his own terms...

Then one night Jorge was unable to fall asleep, watching the new moon up his window with remorse, listening to the owes, when someone knocked at his door. He nearly jumped from his bed. Clear rapid knocks by cold small knuckles. They did not continue.

Something was smuggled from under the door, then the hare-like footsteps of someone dashing away.

He came close and saw a white thing on the ground. It was a pair of panties. He picked it up. It was still warm and moist around the crotch.

Jorge buried his face in the soft fabric and howled.