Stephanie Fahey was by far the cutest girl in my college biology class. We were freshmen, both away from home for the first time, and we happened together by the chance of our last names being similar.
Lab partners we were, and over time friends outside of the class room and lab as well.
But that was it: friends.
The lovely, long-brown haired girl was a picture of perfection, a recently turned 19 with a fantastic body that looked great in a snug pair of jeans. Her baggy shirts belied the bountiful breasts she hid, but on the rare occasions when I dropped of class work to her dorm room and she met me wearing a tee shirt and sweat pants --- the ones with "Pink" written across the behind, I was in utter awe.
I had a crush on the girl, but it seems so did everyone in the college. Stephanie seemingly dated a different boy every weekend. Week nights were not for dating, she was a relentless studier, and we'd spend one or two nights a week as study partners in math as well as biology.
The more time I spent with her, the more my crush expanded. Whatever the reason, though, I knew we wouldn't get together. She never looked at me like she looked at other guys. She'd comment on their looks, brains and sports prowess, adoring from afar. And one of "those" guys asked her out she'd date them. Never anything serious, she enjoyed her popularity but she confided she really enjoyed her freedom.
Nothing was going to tie her down before she wanted to be in a relationship. And I clearly wasn't on her list...I was a friend, lab partner and Boy Friday, running to the store on and errand for her, judge of her outfits while shopping, you name it. But there was nothing between us in the romance department.
We'd cut up on each other in lab class as we were cutting into dead critters. She'd joke about my hair (to this day I have a hard time keeping it with a kept look) or lack of muscle, while I'd joke about her being fat (yes, if two ounces past perfect was fat) or the strange twang she had from her southern upbringing.
When I learned she was actually born in West Virginia before moving to Maryland, I'd remind her of every faux pas she might make that "It figures, coming from a backwater state where cousins are more than family, their boyfriend or girlfriends." Okay, so maybe she didn't sleep with a cousin, it sounded like a good a dig.
We'd share coffee at the student union or downtown at The Talented Bean, the local coffee shop. On a few occasions we'd visit the "TB" as we called it after a round of studying and listen to local artists do their acoustic thing. I'd think of these occasions as a sort of date, while Stephanie, I'm sure, thought of it as time with a friend. Even the peck on the cheek she'd give me when I walked her back to her dorm was brother like.
Still I was on cloud nine when spied by others walking side-by-side with the pretty girl.
Stephanie had a superb body, one that I used when I made love to my hand late nights when my roommate was asleep. It's funny, when I'd masturbate thinking of other girls I'd think of banging them hard in unusual places, like in the woods or at a park or office. But when I did myself thinking of Stephanie she'd always be very loving as we gently made love with each other in a comfy, cozy bedroom.
Maybe it was that I thought of her as pure, maybe it was because I couldn't imagine her doing naughty things even behind closed doors. Whatever, I'd blast my stuff all over my bedspread when thinking of that perfect girl.
Every once in a while Stephanie would mention a guy she was seeing while we were together, and it was like a dagger in the back. Oh, obviously we weren't in that kind of a relationship where I should be jealous, still it hurt when she talks about the guys she was seeing. I knew sooner or later she'd fall for someone and a romance would blossom.
That one was Roger, a football star destined for All-America honors. After they'd been dating for a while I figured he was probably getting into Stephanie's pants on a regular basis. Heck, rumor was that he'd fucked his way through a wave of girls, and it always pained me to think he was doing Stephanie.
I'd imagine them screwing and wondered if he was considerate with her. I hoped so, I know on several occasions I dreamed of sneaking around and watching them doing "it" while I watched as a pepping Tom from outside the room. In this fantasy Stephanie would always be on her hands and knees, taking him from behind, so that I could see him bouncing against her ass while her breasts swayed freely and her hair whipped side to side.
Hey, it was my fantasy, and I could have her do anything I liked, right? I wondered if she gave good head, if she willingly blew guys or if they had to beg for it. Did she spit or swallow? Did she have many different partners? Could she cum with them? Oh, if only I could read her mind or view her diary!
Midway through the second semester after intense studying for midterms Steph and I had had it with the books. We decided to hit the TB in search of some decaf and entertainment, and spent the next couple hours swaying in our seats to the fine sounds of a local acoustic performer. She wanted to learn to SCUBA dive while I wanted to kayak some rapids.
We'd talk between sets, mostly of school but sometimes of home, summer plans and other classes and classmates.
On the way home she hit me with a bombshell: "Do guys only think about sex? I mean, is it a 24/7 thing with you guys?"
I looked at the girl and saw she was serious. She was, and I had no idea what to say.
"Well?" asked the girl.
"I think most guys think about sex a lot, sure," I cautiously replied, not knowing whether to be open or coy with my answer. "Why, do you want to go into the bushes and find out what I am thinking?"
Stephanie laughed. "In your dreams, bozo, in your dreams...it's just that most of the guys don't want to get to know you. Oh, they want a date, but they go from A to C without lingering on B. They have no problem with asking for, no, demanding sex. It's quite unsettling."
I said I didn't think all guys were that way, but that we did think about sex a lot.
"You know, Steph, that you are very beautiful and I am sure guys are very attracted to you. Why do you ask?"
Stephanie didn't answer, just continued to walk. I could tell her mind was running, that something was bothering her, but was afraid to bring up.
"Stephanie, you can count on me. If you want to talk, I am here for you. You are very important to me, not only as a classmate but as a friend."
The girl looked over at me, smiled, and nodded her head. She stopped at a bench just inside campus and pulled me over. We sat, and said nothing as we looked at the stars.
"Do you think they are watching us, those aliens out there," questioned the girl, almost seriously.
"If they want to know about humans...sure. You would be a great specimen for them to examine thoroughly, so don't go entering any space craft or anything."
Stephanie smiled and leaned back against the bench, sort of scooting down a bit and gazing up at the sky.
"Roger said I'm a prude for not having sex with him," admitted the girl. "I don't, you know, I draw the line there and it pisses him off. I know he's not used to not getting his way with girls. He has his way with a bevy of women, right behind my back. He's fucking half my dorm, I think, and he's working his way through the cheerleader team one-by-one. I don't want to be on that list."
I was shocked. I just assumed she was fucking the football star. It was almost a requirement in the co-ed handbook. The star was known around campus for his sexual escapades. On one occasion I noticed him kissing a girl goodnight at her dorm, only to wait outside for a few minutes when a different girl appeared and the two went walking hand-in-hand away.
While I often wondered if each of the girls knew about the other, I really wondered whether Stephanie knew because he would tell people that she was his girlfriend. So I couldn't imagine what he told my friend, or what he didn't say.
"I've stumbled upon girls talking about him, about how he's so hot in bed, and it pisses me off."
"So why do you date him?"
She smiled. "Maybe because he's so cute, or that I really do have feelings for him. I've thought I could change his ways, so that he would sow his wild oats and then want only me. Maybe it's that I just fell for him and now don't know what to do about it. But it's so humiliating for me. The other night..."
"What?"
"Oh Rob it was terrible. I can't believe it, but I think it's true."
